#fic: trust and intuition

[flightlessangelwings]

Trust and Intuition Chapter 1- The Vigilante

Din Djarin x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

Word count- 3.2k

Warnings- set between seasons 1 and 2, canon typical violence, action, suspense, protective!Din, badass!reader

Notes- While this chapter doesn’t have smut, my blog is still 18+ only so minors please do not interact! This is a rewrite of the very first Mando fic I ever wrote! And boy did I realize how choppy my writing used to be as I was editing and reworking this lol! But this will be 4 parts to this series and then some sequel fics as well so we've got a big story here! The planet here, Dria, is one I made up. Updates on Mondays. Enjoy and let me know what you think!

Feel free to follow s my update blog and turn on post notifications to stay up to date on when I post! @flightlessangelwings-updates​​

~

The Mandalorian sat in the cockpit of the Razor Crest and sighed. His new mission was simple in theory, but daunting in reality: find where this child is from and return him home. He stared back at the baby as he found himself wondering where in the galaxy he should start. The child just stared back at him and smiled widely. The pair stared at each other for a few moments in a comfortable silence before the Mandolorian spoke.

“We’ll figure this out, buddy,” he assured the baby, who giggled in response. As he stared at the little creature with affection, Mando remembered a planet that was renowned for its vast library and research. “That’s as good a place as any to start,” he sighed to himself as he set a course, “Dria.” 

The trip there was quiet and uneventful; everyone in this part of the galaxy seemed to keep to themselves, which was completely fine with the Mandalorian. The Maker truly looked out for him this time as no one bothered him as he landed his ship in a dock on the outskirts of the capital city. From above, Mando could see several different climates on the planet, but the capital was a bustling spot of green and life in the middle of a desert region. Buildings lit up the landscape and the nearby sea reflected the bright sun that beamed down on the people there. Further into the desert and the outskirts, old ruins covered the landscape. 

It felt peaceful.

The child babbled and watched as Mando gathered his weapons and prepared for the trek out, “Ready kid?” he asked as he settled him into his pram. Mando gently stroked the baby’s cheek once and tilted his helmet with affection as his foundling looked up at him in awe, “Come on.”

Dria’s capital city was bustling with life. Traders worked in the large market in the center of town, and there were libraries on every corner. Education was obviously highly important in this society as a school was almost always in sight. The Mandalorian spent most of the morning browsing around the libraries for any information on the child’s species, but with no luck. 

“I’m looking for any information on a rare species,” Mando asked one of the scholars at the third library he visited as he laid his hands on the counter. The child stayed at his side in his pram, quietly looking around at the sights that Dria had to offer.

She glanced down at the child and studied him for a few moments, but obviously was unfamiliar with what he spoke of, “I think what you’re looking for is in the archives at the royal palace,” she suggested, “That’s where the most lucrative information is kept.” 

“Well, I guess it’s the palace then,” he told the child with a heavy sigh. Having no other options, the Mandalorian went to the large palace on the top of the hill and asked for an audience with the king. The palace guards and advisors scrambled: what does a Mandalorian want with the king? 

“Mandalorian, the king will see you now,” a guard called Mando’s attention just as he was about to give up and leave. He nodded without a word and followed the guard into the main audience chamber.

It was a lavish room filled with old weapons as decor on the walls and the best woven rugs on the floors. The only decor that stood out was the large tapestry with the crescent moon and three stars symbol: obviously the symbol of Dria. For how much it was decorated, the room itself was mostly bare. A few tables lined the walls, a few bookshelves littered the walls, and the large throne sat elevated in the center of the room. On that throne, sat the king, dressed in all black topped with a dark silk cape.

“I am King Vero Alcyron of Dria,” he spoke in an authoritative yet smooth voice, “But you already knew that.” The king had an imposing presence that commanded the attention of a room. He could be considered classically handsome and he was tall; one would find him charming upon first meeting. Yet, there was something about him that Mando instantly didn’t trust, he just couldn’t quite figure out why. Perhaps it was because he held a vague resemblance to someone… 

Mando gave a small nod, but said nothing yet. He stood tall with his arms crossed in front of him. 

“What brings a Mandalorian all the way out here to my humble little planet?” Vero stood and stepped down to level with the Mandalorian, “What could my archives possibly have that would be of interest to you?” his eyes dropped down to the child for a moment before meeting Mando’s visor once more. 

“I’m looking for answers,” he stated simply.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific than that,” the king scoffed. 

Mando chose his words carefully, “This creature,” he gestured to the baby reluctantly, hating having to draw attention to him, “I’ve never seen one like him before and I need to know more.”

The king sneered, “I thought your duty was only to capture targets, not ask questions, Mandalorian.”

“I have been tasked with something more with this one,” the words rolled off his tongue easily. When it came to the safety of the child, Mando had no hesitation. There were only a few he trusted, and this king was not one of them. Omitting information came easy when the child was on the line. 

“I’m intrigued,” Vero paused for a moment as a huff left his lips, “I’ll grant you access to the palace library, but I need you to do something for me first. Nothing comes for free after all.”

The Mandalorian sighed quietly; of course it wouldn’t be this easy, “What do you need?”

“There’s a vigilante running around causing havoc in my city,” King Vero started.

“And you need this vigilante taken care of,” Mando guessed the end of his sentence.

“Yes and no,” the king paced, “I need him brought to me alive. You see, not only has he stolen from me and started riots in my streets,” he took a few steps towards the bounty hunter as he tapped his fingers together, “But he’s also kidnapped my queen. I need to know what he’s done with her,” his voice lowered to no more than a growl.

“Understood,” Mando said simply before he turned to leave, not having any interest at all in the king’s affairs. The baby’s pram followed close behind, never leaving his caretaker’s side. 

“Alive, Mando!” Vero called to his back. His eyes narrowed as he watched the armored figure walk away and a dark smirk lit up his face. 

*

You navigated your way through the busy plaza with your small embroidered duffle bag strapped tightly against your body. A hood covered your head, you wore goggles to cover your eyes and a mask with a voice changer covered the lower half of your face. Your identity was completely concealed. No one paid you any mind as you kept your head down and ducked around anyone you passed by. The only time you let your presence known was to help a woman that was being heckled by an unruly customer, and then went right back to your anonymity. 

You came up to a stand and made a purchase quickly before you moved on, your purchase safely tucked in your bag. You took a few steps before you had a strange feeling, like you were being watched. As you looked over your shoulder, you noticed who was watching you: a Mandalorian. A short gasp escaped your lips as you turned to run, knowing instantly that he was here for you.

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath as you weasled your way out of the crowded part of the plaza. In the back of your mind, you knew it was only a matter of time before the king would send someone after you. He didn’t exactly approve of your presence in his city, especially since it made his citizens question his authority. You didn’t look behind you, but you knew he was still on your tail. 

When you turned around a corner to a quiet alley, you almost ran directly into the Mandalorian. Without a word, he reached out to grab your arm, but you slipped back before his hand closed on you. In one swift movement, you flung your bag into the shadows and pulled out two small staffs. You were determined not to go down without a fight, even if you knew what the outcome would be. As you readied your stance, you noticed the pram at the Mandalorian’s side and the little green creature with wide eyes and a soft gasp escaped your lips. 

The Mandalorian stood his ground and waited for you to make the first move, and it didn’t go unnoticed by him that you paused upon noticing the child. You exhaled before you lashed out at him with your batons. He ducked and countered with a knife. The alley was quiet, save for the clangs of your weapons as you parried with the bounty hunter. You groaned under your mask as you quickly realized you exerted more energy than he did, and you knew your disadvantage quickly.

After studying your movements, Mando got the advantage and knocked you off your feet. He was actually impressed how well you fought and held your ground until this point. You even managed to get a few hits in too: something not everyone could say. With a grunt you hit the ground hard, and the bounty hunter kicked your weapons away from you. 

As you collided with the ground, your head hit the hard floor and your goggles shattered. You strained to push yourself up to a sitting position, and with a sigh you pulled your goggles off of your face. Your head throbbed, but you got lucky that your mask hit the ground and not your head directly. 

Mando watched as you took a few deep breaths before you raised your hands up in surrender. He took a pair of cuffs out and locked your arms behind your back before he dragged you to your feet. The child watched with a soft coo as the fight ended, although he didn’t seem worried about you as a threat for some reason. 

“Wait,” your voice sounded normal, the voice modulator in your mask must have broken when you hit the ground. You cursed to yourself; that would make things harder when he got you back to the palace. 

“I’m taking you in,” he said simply.

“Just wait,” you said breathlessly, tired from your spar. This made him stop in his tracks. “Just do me one favor. Please,” you begged, left with no options than to plead with your captor.

The Mandalorian just stared at you, unsure of what to say. It was definitely bold of his target to ask anything of him. It wouldn’t be the first time, but Mando had no interest in what you had to say; you were just like any other bounty he captured before.

“Please,” you started, “This is important. Just take my bag to the temple Lux ruins on the outside of the city,” desperation lined your voice, “I promise it’s not a trap.” 

He looked into your eyes and saw the genuine concern in them. He also heard the pain in your voice, which wasn’t the voice he was expecting to hear. Suddenly, you seemed different than the other faceless targets before. Suddenly, Mando was more interested in your story. His grip on your arm loosened slightly as something in his head told him to trust you.

“I can pay you,” you added in a last effort to get the bounty hunter to comply with your request, “You have a kid there right? Then you understand…”  

That snapped him out of his thoughts as he glanced over at the child.

“In my pocket here,” you nodded your head to your right. Mando stared at you for a moment, and as if you read his thoughts you added, “I know when I’ve been defeated. I’m not going to try anything. These cuffs are pretty tight anyway,” you added with a dry laugh. 

The bounty hunter tightened his grip on your arm as he reached for your pocket. Right at the top, he felt the credits you mentioned. He looked into your eyes again as he pulled them out before he led you back to the palace with the child’s pram following loyally behind. 

Neither of you spoke again after that. 

*

The large doors of the grand hall opened to let in the Mandalorian and his catch. Your arms were still bound behind you and a strong hand held you tightly. You held yourself tall and wore a fierce look in your eyes, the only part of your face visible.

King Vero sat on his throne and watched the two of you walk in alone; the pram that held the child was noticeably absent. A dark smile graced his face when he saw what the bounty hunter had brought him, “Excellent work, Mandalorian,” he spoke as he walked towards the center of the room to meet you.

Mando simply bowed his head slightly as he released his grip on you. Uninterested in what the king had to say, he turned to a steward behind him for his payment. Ignoring the Mandalorian behind you, you stared at the king with a fierce look, as if you tried to stab him with your gaze alone. 

“Did the vigilante say anything, Mandalorian?” Vero’s voice called his attention.

He turned slightly back towards the voice, “Didn’t say a word.”

Under your mask, a smile flashed across your face, but you were careful not to let it know in your eyes. Though left with no other options, you were grateful that your gamble to trust the Mandalorian paid off… at least for now. In your eyes, all you let show was hate and rage directed at the king that now stood directly in front of you.

“Where have you taken her, scum?” King Vero’s voice was but a growl as he grabbed you by your collar. 

With your voice modulator broken, you knew your voice would give your identity away. Instead, you chose to answer with action and headbutted the king, hitting him directly on the nose. His body flew back as he lost his footing and his guards shouted and aimed their blasters at you. Mando didn’t move, however, and under his helmet he smirked to himself. There was definitely something about the king he did not trust, even if he couldn’t figure out exactly why. He took the distraction as an opportunity to slip out of the room with his payment unnoticed.

King Vero raised his arms up, “Lower your weapons,” he ordered as he touched his hand to his face, now coated in blood that dripped from his nose. The guards obediently did as they were told. He sauntered up to you and took your masked chin in his hands. He studied your eyes for a moment before he spoke, “No one looks at me with that much open rage,” his voice was low so that only you could hear him, “Maybe some time in the dungeon will make you more amenable to conversation.”  

You understood the threat in his voice, and knew exactly what his words meant. You sighed as the guards hauled you out of the grand room. The only hope you had was that the Mandalorian was a man of his word and would go where you asked him to. What lay there was more important to you than your life anyway. As long as that was safe, then you were at peace with your situation. 

*

When the Mandalorian got back to his ship, the child was there waiting for him. He greeted his caregiver at the door with a wide smile. Mando put his bags down and scooped the child up into his arms.

“Sorry I was longer than I thought,” he told the child in a soft tone, “But I brought you something to eat.” Mando had a bad feeling about King Vero, and opted to leave the child on the Razor Crest before he took you back. There was something about the way he leered at the child that set him on edge, and he decided the kid would be safer here until he got back. 

The child cooed as he grabbed a hold of the Mandalorian’s arm, happy to see him again. Mando carried the baby across the ship and set him down at a little table. He sat a small bowl in front of his foundling before he sat down opposite him.

As he watched the baby gleefully eat, his eyes drifted to the pile behind him. On top of that pile lay the embroidered bag he took from you after your fight. Mando was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice the child stopped eating and just looked up at him. He felt the gaze of those big, wide eyes and it shook him out of his trance. The two stared at each other for a few minutes, and seemed to have a conversation without any words.

After several moments, the Mandalorian sighed, “Come on,” he said as he reached for the child and headed for the door. He also picked up the duffel bag on the way out.

Under the cover of night, the bounty hunter went on foot to the edge of the vast city with your bag slung over his shoulder, and the child nestled secretly in his pram. The further away he got from the center of the city, the quieter the area became. The warm air of the desert faded into a crisp evening in the sand. He kept his stance tense, ready for anything that may jump out of the shadows. 

As he stood on a small cliff on the city’s border, Mando focused a scanner to look for life in the ruins that you spoke of. It appeared to be an old temple, maybe jedi. Lux, he remembered, was what you called it. He still wasn’t sure why he was out here in the first place; maybe it was the look in your eyes, a look that whatever was here was more important than your life. 

And he knew that feeling all too well.

He gave a quick glance down at the child before he went back to scanning the terrain. To the naked eye, there was nothing there. However, Mando could see about a dozen heat signatures hidden within the ruins. They were all small, and none appeared to carry any weapons.

“Strange,” he thought out loud before he moved to enter the ruins. The child followed close behind, in his pram, and Mando had his blaster ready in case of danger. However he was confident that whatever was here did not pose any threat. Something in the back of his mind made him very sure of that. 

Out of the peripherals of his vision, Mando noticed movement; someone was watching him. Careful not to startle, he kept still, and watched as the figure slowly crept out of the shadows. It caught the bounty hunter off guard when he realized it was a child, no older than 11 he guessed.

“A kid…?” he breathed. 

What had the Mandalorian stumbled upon this time?

#fic: trust and intuition #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x you #din djarin imagine #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fic #din djarin fanfic #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x y/n #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfic #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fandom #the mandalorian fandom #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #Star Wars fanfic #Star Wars Fic #star wars fanfiction #din djarin fluff #the mandalorian fluff

[izloveshorses]

god, maya’s impression of bellamy must’ve been absolutely legendary. first off, she’s only heard stories about him from jasper and co, who all essentially worship him, and then when she meets him he. he knows her name right away, like some kind of mythical creature. he’s is this powerful and intense and vengeful guy with beautiful and kind eyes who keeps asking if she’s okay. and then not 2 minutes into their relationship he beats the shit out of someone and gets all bloody and looks monstrous in this yellowish lighting, but then he’s like, “are you alright?” in this soft and gentle voice, as if he’s not the one bruised and pained about what he had to do. i can’t imagine how intriguing he would be. and then he’s super intense and serious and broody for the rest of their walk, until they meet the children, and he’s even more tortured about it. and when he talks to clarke about their plan and maya doesn’t seem confident about the long laundry list of tasks they have to do, he still smiles and assures that it’s not a problem. always believing in the impossible for the sake of everyone else. 

the way he immediately steps into that big brother role with her. the way maya sees all these complicated sides of him all at once, and still chooses to go all in. 

this dynamic is one of the most interesting ones on the show, it’s a shame we only get to see it for just a few episodes.

#the 100 #iz watches t100 #bellamy blake #maya #2x11 #idk if this is coherent sorry alhksdf #but god #i love how smart she is i love how brave she is i love how intuitive she is #and he's just so desperate for someone to trust #she doesn't know his original plan failed immediately #but she chooses to help him anyway bc she knows it's the right thing to do #and he trusts her bc he trusts the word of clarke and his people #idk idk idk it's so compelling to me #does anyone know of any fics about this specific chunk of eps from maya's pov

[allsassnoclass]

okay i’m going to level with you all right now.  i don’t know when the rest of the prompts will get done. i don’t know when my next fic for this fandom will be.  i am trying to be nice to myself and allow myself to write what i want, rather than what i think i should be writing, so right now i have a lot more motivation and enjoyment for writing other fandoms.  I still will try to get the prompts done by the end of the year at the very latest, but I haven’t necessarily had good writing mojo for a few months so i want to write the things that i feel excited and good about rather than forcing myself to write things i don’t have inspiration for and then using up all of that writing energy quicker.

#personal #i feel like i took too many words to say this #but. yeah. idk y'all i'm trying to put myself in a place where i *love* the act of writing again #rather than sometimes enjoy it and then other times force myself into it #trying to treat my writing like intuitive eating lol #like. writing what i want when i want without expectations and trusting that at some point i'll return to other stuff #so if you're subscribed to me on ao3 and see more fics for other fandoms... that's just how it is sometimes #also don't judge the fandoms sometimes a tv show writes their characters so badly that i just. i NEED to fix it yknow #i WILL write more for this fandom don't worry. this isn't me saying goodbye or anything #i just want to manage expectations especially with the prompts #to the 9 people waiting for their prompt: you will get it. but you probably won't get it for a little while #it'll all depend on many factors

[hannieehaee]

heyy! What are your thoughts on possessive bsf!mingyu😵‍💫😵‍💫

18+ / mdi

could literally write an entire fic on this lmao

my thoughts below <3

possessivebsf!mingyu would always make up excuses as to why you should stay in with him, claiming that maybe your ex would be at that party, so you should probably just skip it! or how that mean girl from psych class was talking to your previous situationship, so you should just avoid the awkwardness of it.

would entice you into always bringing him on the off chance you did go partying, insisting it was dangerous for you to go out alone at night.

not a moment would go by in which he wasnt by your side, looming over you as he threw death stares to every guy who even dared look your way.

on the off chance that someone spoke to you while he went away to refreshen your drink, he'd immediately cut them off, letting them know you werent interested.

part of you would be annoyed, while the other part would assume he knew something you didnt, trusting his intuition more than anything.

would thrive off of every occasion in which you were confused for a couple, never once correcting anyone who called you one.

in very obvious fashion, his resolve would eventually break the moment he caught you texting some guy, seemingly wanting to meet up.

would convince you that he could give you whatever you were looking for in that other guy, claiming that he could give you that and more. he was your best friend, after all. who could take better care of you than your bestie?

his whines against your cunt as he told you how well he'd take care of you would have your eyes rolling back. he'd savour every sound out of your lips, promising that he'd be the only one to hear those pretty moans from now on.

would cum untouched just at the bare feeling of your cunt pulsing against his tongue, cream coating his face as he dragged your hips against his tongue until you almost passed out from the pleasure.

wouldnt take long for him to grow addicted to the new development of your friendship, now getting even more in the way of your other romantic or sexual endeavors.

he'd gradually get more and more daring, leaving hickeys on obvious places to claim ownership over you, or fucking you so hard you'd need his help to get by.

eventually he'd just start introducing himself as your boyfriend, telling you that it was just the obvious next step in the relationship. he gave everything you needed in a a boyfriend anyways, so why not make it official.

would be pleasantly surprised at your lack objection. he may have played the long game, but if you were now his, nothing else would matter.

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #svt fanfic #seventeen #svt #svt x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen oneshot #seventeen smut #svt smut #mingyu imagines #mingyu fic #mingyu smut #mingyu x reader #mingyu oneshot #mingyu fanfic

[maximotts]

firm hand, gentle touch ⁘ w. maximoff

based off of an ask from @leolionsblog that was supposed to be a short response, but turned into a full fic.. Also, I know it's been a little bit since I've written for Wanda and Doll, but quick reminder that it's a dark AU so pls heed warnings and expect the morally gray 🩶 warnings are clearly labeled, please don't add community filters

Doll House! AU. masterlist || main masterlist :: Thinking is a dangerous game; thinking you know better than Wanda... that's asking for pure trouble wc. 2.2k . cw: 18+ only, minors DNI. mommy!Wanda and doll!reader. imposed routines. piss play (coerced bedwetting). dumbification. general teasing. subtle manipulation. series typical pet names and squishy times. Wanda who is trying her best to be gentle and patient and not use her powers to control you as much as she had.

Imagine it's early on in Wanda's little hex; Doll's so rarely allowed to go anywhere without Wanda and most often, she doesn't have the desire to anyways. Still new to the privilege of talking, you don’t find it much of a problem -Wanda always knows what you need- until you want something Wanda doesn't want to acknowledge.

Wanda loves holding you at all times, whether it's your hand while on an afternoon walk or pulling you close as you fall asleep, once she lets that boundary down there’s hardly a moment you have to reach out too far to her. And bedtime is a new exception.

In the beginning, the brunette was firm with putting to your bed on your own, staying long enough to tuck you in before retiring to her separate room for the night. She’d reasoned to herself it was good to have time apart, to prove to herself both that she could trust you to stay put and her to establish a routine. Night after night of dragging you back up the hall to your room and dealing with your sleepy cries had worn her down— now you slept in either of your bedrooms, together.

Your shared days now ended with an abundance of gentle intimacy, a new routine created to account for the unexpected closeness. Despite the gray circumstances bringing you together, a secret, less confident piece of Wanda expected you to resent her and keep distance whenever you could the more free will she gave, but you continued to surprise her.

Unbeknown to you, he genuine devotion only seemed stoked her need to control.

Standard practice meant Wanda always asked if you had to use the bathroom after your evening bath, but tonight you'd refused, impatient to get into bed and snuggle with your mommy. There was gentle suggestion that you at least try, but when you looked seconds from stomping your foot, Wanda relented, not wanting to fight over something so simple.

Now though, you paid the price, squirming as as you struggled to find the most comfortable position, something that typically wasn’t so hard when Wanda was stroking your skin and telling you a story. Typically perfectly intuitive, you assumed she’d stop speaking and lead you to the bathroom, having expecting some gentle admonishment while she sat you tired form on the toilet, but Wanda ignored all your hints at discomfort.

Eventually the pressure was too much and guessed your punishment must be the confusion of being left to your own devices. Alas you guessed wrong and the moment you twisted to sit up, Wanda held you back.

"Lay still and close your eyes, dolly. It's time for bed." Playing dumb was cruel when Wanda so clearly knew what was wrong, skirting a hand under your sleep shirt before pressing lightly on your sensitive belly. Wanda liked to call them your wigglies, called them so whenever they cropped up, quickly inquiring which problem possessed you; a telltale sign she needed to check in. Tonight, she remained willfully ignorant.

You whined into her neck, hips rolling into her thigh as you shuffled clumsily atop her, hoping if you burrowed deeper she wouldn't be able to make it worse. It proved to be a false hope once that same devious thigh bent between yours. "Wanna get up.."

“Why’s that? Does your tummy hurt?” The shy nod was as far as you were willing to confirm, lifting your hips to keep away from her teasing. You were still sparing with your words, much more used to actions or motions to communicate, but as soon as Wanda started letting you speak she expected proper response when disciplining you. “Tell me what’s wrong, baby.”

Resting on your knees gave Wanda just enough space to splay her hand over your stomach as she did when it ached, but for your current plight the warmth of her palm atop your bladder felt too taunting. “Can I go pee, mommy? I’ll be quick!”

A speedy return was far from Wanda’s concerns; watching your struggle set off a new lightbulb within and exhausted as she was, she deferred to her curiosity.

Wanda’s subsequent too tight squeeze left you clamping your legs about her waist, focusing on holding that heavy, full feeling inside. If she’d stopped there you’d surely run as fast as your legs would let you, would surely think twice before stubbornly rejecting Wanda’s suggestions, but the basic behavior of minding her in the future wasn’t sating her interest. "You told me twice you didn't need to go; either you lied or you didn't know any better.”

You so rarely second guessed her, a quick scan of your thoughts earlier confirmed you only did so tonight in the name of skipping to another nightly cuddle… Poor thing, you really did always mean well, but sadistically, she longed to impose more memorable consequences. “From now on you're going to listen to me, aren't you?"

The resulting agreement was expected, your deference was almost always automatic particularly in quest to get what you wanted faster. Wanda would give it just, not how you imagined. "Go ahead then, sweetheart, you don’t have to get up. Let go and we can go to sleep."

Almost.

"But that's messy…" Surely she was joking; the messes you left on the floor or at the dinner table were the primary reasons you found yourself in trouble. Brain already stretched dozens of ways, you could only imagine she was waiting for you to slip up. There was the occasional time where your mommy would give you the opportunity to prove yourself, one choice she’d guided you towards once or twice and one obvious misstep you still sometimes mindlessly fell for.

Worriedly pouting lips betrayed your conflict, trapped body twisting more sloppily as the seconds ticked on. Admittedly, she acted a bit out of character in accessing how much progress she’d made with her new toy. Slowly the witch had been relinquishing her hold on your will, hoping it’d been long enough you’d bend to hers without struggle. At the very least, tonight was now an exercise in how far you’d come.

New freedoms aside, she didn’t want you to think, certainly not hard enough to debate her commands. “Did I ask you about the mess?”

Silence wasn’t enough, Wanda’s free hand tugging the ponytail she’d lovingly tied in your hair just over an hour ago. The swirling red tendrils forming in her irises signaled she meant business; whether Wanda’s eyes changed on purpose or not was a question you had yet to ask aloud, but you knew well enough she’d reached the end of her patience. “Speak up when I ask you a question.”

Combined physical and mental pressure was too intense to bear, pitiful whimpers catching in your throat. “N-no, you didn’t…”

“Then don’t worry your silly head.” Her fingers were so soft on your cheek, petting your rapidly heating cheeks and saying nothing of the tiny spot of wet that spilled atop her thigh as you faded into her— before you caught yourself. Either the missteps weren’t obvious enough or Wanda hadn’t done proper work on your hesitation. Wanda laughed at your panic, holding your jaw until you finally understood you needed to stop fighting her.

“I don’t have to go anymore,” The whisper was such a blatant lie, one Wanda nearly slapped you across the face for… but she’d resolved early on to never scare you so terribly again. Gentle things often did best with equally gentle punishments.

Your mommy took in the pathetic sight of her doll, stuck swimming in her struggling thoughts, and oh she felt bad. It’d be nothing to whisk thoughts thoughts away, to leave you again as nothing but a dumb thing without a care for any perceived standards. She feared you’d never learn if you didn’t do so for yourself and so, agitated as you were, Wanda decided to let you drown if you insisted on it.

“No? Such a fuss for only having to go a tiny bit,” she chided, loosening her grip despite your continued clinging. Guiding your lower half down alongside her leg, Wanda’s demeanor turned around, once brutal and probing now lighter than a feather and you felt as though you were suffering from severe whiplash.

It was obvious she didn’t believe you -you didn’t even convince yourself, legs still clenched desperately about Wanda- but she played pretend, shutting off the lone bedside lamp and shifting so you both laid down. “If you’re really all done then it’s past your bedtime. Shut your eyes and rest.”

And that was all she said. No goodnights or further affection, just lights out and quiet. You’d be a fool to think Wanda would let you slip away to the bathroom now, her only given solution hanging pendulous above your too fuzzy head. The longer you lay there, the more confusing refusing it seemed.

You didn’t know what tiny voice in your brain convinced you to suffer and think, but as the minutes ticked by in the dark, you grew to hate that sound. Whatever it was wasn’t your mommy, the only person you ever wanted to please. Listening to it only got you an awful tummy ache and distance between you and her, having spoiled your cozy moments with Wanda.

Letting Wanda decide was easier, much less work than the headaches resulting from making any right choice. Mind made up, your abdomen was the only thing nagging you now, but you were still bashful. “Mama?”

“What is it, little one?”

Her voice was the calm to your inner storm, tone sweet and oh so loving. “…maybe I have to pee more…”

“Be a good girl and do as mommy said.” A simple kiss sealed your fate, relinquishing the last bits of hesitancy in favor of your mommy’s soft lips on your forehead.

Gratefully she allows you to burrow into the crook of her neck, still a little too embarrassed to face Wanda as you relaxed, freeing your pent-up belly with a slow stream, spreading warmth growing on her hip. She praises you through it, comforting hands stroking the small of your back, distracting your overexerted brain from your damp underwear.

“There you go, now doesn’t that feel better?”

A subtle excitement lingered between your thighs, one you’d ask to explore another time when you had the energy. “It feels icky..”

Wanda cooed at your exhausted observation, patting your backside in an effort to keep you calm and quiet. “I meant for your poor tummy, but I’ll fix that too.”

Her favorite parts were always the consequence and the aftermath, savoring what an honor it was to take care of you long after you’d be able to care for yourself. That was her job, after all, tending to your needs and protecting you, even if sometimes it was from yourself. “I’ll clean you up in a bit, I promise.”

Your hazy gaze searched the brunette’s face with unfiltered confusion, desperate to be back under Wanda’s tender care. It was true; she always left every aspect seamless, never asked you to think about anything— so why were you? No more questioning her, you promised yourself for a final time, right then and there. “Are you mad at me, mommy? Did I mess up badly?”

“Oh, no no,” she soothed, rubbing your bare shoulders before tightening the plush comforter around them. “You did such a good job, sweet pea! I’m so proud of you.”

“Even though I lied?” Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Wanda unbuttoning her silk shirt and you wiggled down on instinct, ready to round out your bedtime routine. Preening under her affections was second nature, obedient and kept a state you were more than willing to accept.

“Yes, even then, but don’t do it again.” Wanda rewarded your eventual good behavior by guiding you down until wet lips captured her pert nipple. She knew her smart girl would come around sooner rather than later and as she studied your now fully unwound form, not a singular worry pecking at your cute head, the older woman basked in the genuine pride she held for her work. “I only want the best for you, my love. You’ve got the big job of telling me the truth so I can look after you properly, I know you can do that for me, can’t you?”

There was a muffled mhm from somewhere, much more preoccupied with the overwhelming comfort you basked in. You didn’t struggle to ignore anything now, head feeling lighter each second you melted further into your mommy, heavy lids fluttering closed under the gentle brush of stray hairs tucked behind your ear, her oh so soft hum of a melody that’s quickly become your favorite song…

Some time in the night you stirred, still heavily draped over Wanda’s sleeping form, and where you expected to feel sticky and uncomfortable, a shift of your thighs confirmed you were back to normal. You wore the same pajamas, woken in the exact position you’d dozed off in, and yet… it was as if nothing happened. Wanda’s lax cuddle wound around your midsection tighter, nurturing squeeze prompting your head to lay back onto her chest. “I told you mama will always take care of you, dolly. Now go back to sleep.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #mommy!wanda maximoff #doll house au. #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff fanfiction #motts writes. #maximotts

[zanarkandskylines]

𝔥𝔬𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱

( chapter 4 - the grey )

『 ♡ pro-hero fem!reader x pro-hero bakugo; pro-heroes au | friends to lovers 』

status: on-going rating: mature (16+) #✩.hollowheart

꒰ summary ꒱ A glimpse of hope appears out of nowhere, giving Bakugo and Midoriya the lead they needed to pursue your location. It proves to be much more difficult than they imagine, so they call upon some friends for a search party.

꒰ tags & warnings ꒱ mentions of blood/violence, eventual & mild smut, kidnapping/abduction, experimentation, physical & psychological torture, PTSD, implied/referenced self harm, cursing, talks of trauma | angst with happy ending, emotional hurt/comfort, regret, mutual pining, friends to lovers, insomnia, eventual romance

꒰ Ao3 version | word count; ~20.6k as of ch.4 ꒱ Master List Chapter 1 | Hurricane [5,092k] Chapter 2 | The Ghost of You [4,799k] Chapter 3| Choke [3,995k] Chapter 4 | The Grey [6,756k] Chapter 5 | The Good Left Undone Chapter 6 | Tourniquet Chapter 7 | There is Fear in Letting Go 『♡』 this fic has a playlist! ✩

"So...let me get this straight," Uraraka ponders, finger on her chin while staring up into her metaphorical thinking space. "She's underground?"

"Yeah, I know, it sounds fuckin' insane." Bakugo shakes his head as he crosses his arms defensively. "But we gotta try. She needs m- our help."

Midoriya nods in agreement and turns to the group. "Sorry to ask on such short notice, but thank you all for -"

"Like you have to ask!" Jiro interrupts, hands on her hips. "She's important to us, too ya know." 

Bakugo and Midoriya had called all of their friends the following morning of your text, gathering an emergency rescue group. Uraraka, Kirishima, Jiro, Mina and Todoroki dropped everything they were doing and met up at Bakugo's apartment the following night. They needed a plan, one that the agency won't catch wind of before they can execute it. It wasn't going to be easy, that much the boys knew, but the consequences did not outweigh the reward - getting you home, safe and sound, was their number one priority. 

"The agency doesn't give two shits about this, so we're takin' it into our own hands. I'm done sittin' around waitin' for a miracle." Bakugo's words are flat as he motions for the group to follow him over to the kitchen table to analyze the diagram that him and Midoriya drafted. He points to the left side to start explaining their plan.

"Ears, we'll need ya to figure out where the compound is located, see if you can hear vibrations or some shit. It's gotta be somewhere in this field. Pinky'll burn a hole to make an entry point for us. They'll keep guard while the rest of us go inside. I'm guessin' it'll have multiple floors, so we'll split into teams to cover it all. I'll take the first floor, Deku and Icyhot take the second while Cheeks and Red take the third. Get in, search for her and other hostages, get 'em out and fuck up anyone in our way." He stands back, shifting his gaze to everyone's faces. "Got it?"

"You sure you wanna go alone, Kat?" Kirishima asks, quirking his head to the side. "Not sayin' you can't handle it, but I wouldn't want anything to happen to you."

Bakugo grunts, casting his eyes to the floor. "It'll be fine. We'll have our comms and stay in contact."

Midoriya knew the reason why he wanted to go alone and didn't dare vocalize it to the group. He trusted Bakugo knew what he was doing, even if it meant going head first into danger by himself. They're top heroes - intuition is one of their strongest feats and he trusts his childhood friend with his life.

"Do we know anything about the drug they're making?" Todoroki asks, directing his question at Midoriya. 

He frowns in response. "Not much, unfortunately. I tried to analyze it in the agency lab and couldn't crack anything about it, didn't have enough of a sample to properly break it down. The only thing we know is that one dosage lasts about an hour."

"Deku, come with me for a sec," Bakugo demands, stomping past Midoriya and into his bedroom away from the rest of the group. Midoriya obeys and follows him down the hall, stopping in the doorframe.

"What is it, Kacchan?" he asks, unsure of what he needed him for. Bakugo droops his shoulders in defeat, palming his face in embarrassment. 

"Izuku, I need a favor." His voice is hushed.

Midoriya walks up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder to gather his attention. 

"Anything, what is it?"

"Don't make me say it," Bakugo grumbles, shaking his head in disbelief that he was asking him for support a second time.

Midoriya knew exactly what that meant. He silently wraps his arms around Bakugo, enclosing him in a soft hug.

"We'll find her, Kacchan, I promise."

Bakugo loosely returns the embrace with one arm. 

"What if I'm not strong enough to save her again?"

Midoriya pulls back to look him in the eyes. "That's not going to happen, we have your back - all of us."

Bakugo knows his friends would support him through thick and thin, but that's not what he's questioning. The possibility of letting you slip away a second time is slowly eating away at him, afraid he'll have to experience you disappearing all over again. A quiet 'yeah' is all he can muster before composing himself.

Bakugo pats Midoriya on the head as he leaves the room.

"Let's get goin'." 

~ TIME: 8:39PM

An hour goes by as the group makes their way to Sector 42, enough time for the sunset to fade into a starry sky and help hide their presence in the night. The seven of them re-group in the same area that you'd previously disappeared in - the barren field. 

"Where did you say the portal opened?" Jiro questions.

Bakugo walks over to a set of rocks, pointing at the area. "Right there. Deku marked it a few days after it happened."

Jiro nods and kneels to the ground. She plants both her headphone jacks to the dirt and focuses for a few moments, listening for any frequencies below them. She hears it straight away, the sounds of metal clanging faintly in her ears. 

"Found it!" she exclaims, unplugging herself from the soil. "About 20 feet deep, and it's a huge facility. I can't quite tell how many floors, but it's big." 

"Knew I could count on ya. Pinky, you're up. Make a big enough hole for us to fit through," Bakugo orders, standing back with the others. 

"Roger that!" Mina gathers a coating of acid around her hands, forming makeshift armored gloves. She began to dig while oozing acid into the ground, carving out a tunnel for the group. The others stood nearby, keeping lookout for any potential sneak attacks. Bakugo can’t help but repeatedly thump his foot like an angry rabbit, his patience wearing thin as he’s forced to wait, not able to direct his anger at anything in the moment. He wanted nothing more than to blow the whole place to smithereens, scoop you up, and take you home. Uraraka notices his fidgeting and pulls him to the side.

"You wanna talk?"

"About what?" Bakugo grumbles, scrunching his brows at her in annoyance. Obviously, he didn't wanna talk about anything at all, let alone his feelings.

"Fair enough. How about I make you a promise?" she says, extending her pinky to him. "When we find her in there, you'll be the first one we call."

Bakugo stares at her, blinking a few times before sighing contently. He wraps his pinky around hers. 

"Thanks, Cheeks. I...really miss her." He lets his hand fall away from hers as she gives his shoulder a light squeeze. 

"Me too. You better make a move once she's back!" Uraraka bats at his arm playfully before skipping back to the others. Bakugo's got his arms crossed and nose to the sky, failing awfully at hiding his flustered expression. Meanwhile, Mina crawls out of the hole she's dug, covered head to toe in dirt. 

"Hah...okay," she pants, out of breath and wiping the sweat off her brows with the back of her hand. "It's wide enough for two people. It takes you to a hallway...that's all I could see. Bit of a drop, so just be careful."And with that, the plan was in motion. The five infiltrators shimmy down the hole one at a time, dropping into the hallway as quietly as possible. Bakugo and Midoriya exchange quiet glances, noting how off-putting the silence is to their entrance. 

"Eyes up, keep a low profile, and call immediately if something happens," Bakugo whispers. "And try not 'ta get hurt."

The four of them nod in agreement at him, partnering up according to plan and going their separate ways.

~ TIME: 9:18PM

Things are quiet in the compound tonight - eerily quiet. It's been days since your distress text was sent to Bakugo, leaving you yearning for escape to the outside world. Did he have a plan? Are him and Midoriya on their way? The lady who helped you steal your phone hasn't returned since that night, not since she took your phone back to the contamination room. Something felt wrong about this setup, that same gut feeling invading your body like the night of your abduction. You can't help but feel guilty about pulling the boys into potential danger, but what choice did you have? There was no possibility of you being able to escape yourself, much to your dismay. It was physically impossible without your quirk. Being helpless has been humbling, but a fucking aggravating experience.

You roll over on the cot, tracing imaginary drawings on the metallic wall as a distraction. The annoying 'beep!' of a keycard sounds from the cell door, but no footsteps follow. You're expecting a barrage of harsh commands, but they never come. Even though that's peculiar, you don't turn over to investigate - you couldn't give two shits about anything in the place any longer.

~ TIME: 9:43PM

Once they've successfully navigated their way through the compound, Uraraka rounds the corner of the steel corridor on the third floor with Kirishima at her side. She stalks slowly down the hall, taking time to examine all their surroundings. 

“Hey, up there! Looks like another cell,” Kirishima mutters, pointing over her shoulder. She silently nods in response.

The two of them approach the glass wall of the cell and carefully peer inside. Uraraka audibly gasps and she scrambles to the door, anxiously fidgeting with the electronic lock. She kicks the door as a last resort and is shocked when the cell door pops open, loosely swinging inward on its hinges. She pushes her way inside, a soft smile crosses her lips when she spots your form on the small cot. You don’t move out of habit, assuming it’s a pissed off guard coming to grab you for another round of testing.

“Found ya,” Uraraka sighs, desperately trying to hide the tears pooling in her doe eyes.

Is that…?

You flip over at the sound of her voice, bewildered at her physically standing before you. 

She’s not an illusion...right?

“Ochaco?” You compose yourself as you sit upright. “Is that…really you?”

Uraraka doesn’t hesitate any longer as she’s rushing toward you, wrapping herself around your frail form. One of her hands makes its way to hold the back of your head, trembling fingers clutching a handful of your messy locks. Her warmth engulfs you and coaxes the emotions to the surface that you previously submerged, soft hiccups bubbling in your throat. You return the hug, squeezing her tightly and shrinking in her arms. 

“Yeah, I’m here. I’m really here,” she assures, quietly stroking your hair. Kirishima comes into focus over Uraraka's shoulder.

"Hope we didn't scare ya!" he says while wiping a tear from his cheek. He strolls over to the cot and takes a seat next to you, gently patting your back. "Good to see ya!"

Uraraka pulls back and moves her hands to your shoulders. Her eyes are glassy as her lips curl into another smile, her signature dimples adorning her cheeks. You haven’t seen the sun in a months time, but seeing her euphoric gleam more than made up for it in the moment. 

“Before we talk about anything, I promised someone a small favor,” she says, nodding her head. She clicks the earpiece that adorned her helmet with one hand while thumbing away a stray tear off your chin with the other.

Promise?

“Hey, Dynamight,” she says over the intercom. The mere mention of his hero name from Uraraka is enough to make the butterflies in your stomach flutter ferociously. You can barely make out his voice through the device, but hear Bakugo’s signature twang when he replies. It makes your cheeks flush strawberry. 

She grins at you as she replies to Bakugo, "I've got a message for ya."

Your heart stops as Uraraka releases her hold on you and reaches for her helmet. Her hair ruffles from underneath when she tugs it away and shifts to place it over your head. She runs her fingers over your hand delicately, urging you to talk to him. 

She mouths ‘go ahead’ while holding the intercom button for you. Kirishima pats you twice on the shoulder for encouragement. 

How does she know?

You swallow, hard. Every nerve in your body is firing on all cylinders. There’s an endless amount of things you want to say to him, but that moment isn’t here yet. You choose to settle on a greeting, praying you don’t start bawling your eyes out. 

“Hey Katsuki,” your voice quivers as his name leaves your lips. 

You hear Bakugo suck air through his teeth over the radio communication, knowing he’s probably cycling through a million emotions over the sound of your voice, too. 

He clears his throat briefly before responding. “Hey…y’doin’ okay, Lite-Brite?” 

You can tell by the way his voice trembles that he’s doing his damndest to keep his shit together. Uraraka continues to hold the button on the helmet, motioning for you to continue talking. 

“Never better,” you joke, huffing out a laugh. “Food sucks here, though. I had to trick myself into thinking it was your cooking to even stomach it.” 

He exhales a quiet laugh. “I’ll make ya whatever you want when we get home. Now get your ass movin’ so we can get the hell outta here.” 

The signal turns off with a click. Uraraka takes the helmet from your head carefully and places it back on her own. 

“You’re gonna have to tell me everything about you two when we get home!” she exclaims, pinching your pink cheeks lovingly. “I’ve missed you - we all have.”

“It’ll be a relief to have you home,” Kirishima chimes in. “C’mon, lets get a move on.” 

He stands from the cot and extends his hand for you to take. Him and Uraraka help you to your feet as you brush yourself off and fluff your hair over your shoulders.

“Are you hurt at all?” Kirishima asks, removing his arm from your back. He takes a look at your arms - they're covered in bruises of varying sizes and colors.

“Not on the surface, no. It’s a long story,” you explain. “The condensed version is they’re formulating a quirk suppressing drug. The experiments they’re running down here are fucking horrific.”

His face morphs into shock and slowly fades into sympathy. Flashbacks of the Overhaul situation from high school come flooding back to him, wincing at the thought of another anti-quirk uprising.

“But you’re okay?” Uraraka asks a second time as she takes your hand in hers, one pinky lifted to prevent her quirk from activating.

You decide to spare her the mental agony you've been through, saving it for later. “...yeah, I think so. Just exhausted. My quirk isn't fully restored, either.”

Kirishima’s earpiece beeps twice when a muffled voice comes through. He turns his head while clicking the button to respond.

“Yeah, we’ve got her. How’s it goin’ up there?” he asks. The voice that responds faintly resembles Midoriya's. He responds once more before clicking off the communicator. "Alright, we'll head up now. Hang tight!"

“There’s one stop I’d like to make before heading upstairs,” you say, knowing you do not want to leave the prison in your current hand-me-down clothes. “It’s around the corner.”

~ TIME: 9:54PM

Once you've successfully retrieved and changed into your hero suit, along with collecting your cellphone, the three of you proceeded to the second floor to meet up with Midoriya and Todoroki. You can't help but notice how the material hangs from your frame and no longer hugs you comfortably. It's to be expected, all things considered. Even though they fed you, the stress was more than enough to cause you to lose weight and muscle strength over the course of the month. If anything, it pissed you off to know you'd have to work hard to build back your prior stamina. 

They didn't bother to wash the damn suit, either. It thankfully didn't smell, per se, but was covered in aged splatters of dirt and grime. Your phone screen was also cracked, hinting that the lady who helped you dropped it "for effect," or some other stupid excuse to inconvenience you.

Your ears perk up at the sound of voices around the corner as Uraraka, Kirishima and yourself are approaching the second floor corridor. 

"There's only 10 hostages here, that's strange," Midoriya explains aloud, presumably to Todoroki. "I thought the reports noted more than 10. Maybe I'm misremembering..." his voice tapers off as he begins mumbling to himself. Oh how you've missed the sound of his rambling, something so minuscule but endearing about him. 

The three of you come into view, catching both of the boys' attention. Midoriya's eyes whip up toward you, emeralds glistening when they widen under the pale hallway lights. He’s charges down the hall to you, tripping over his own steps from the pure adrenaline pumping through his veins. 

"Izuku!" you cry out when his body engulfs yours, gripping onto the back of his costume and squeezing the material as you buried your face into his shoulder. You can't help the tears reforming in your eyes as he spins you around, overwhelmed with joy to see you safe and sound. Before you can stop the tears, you're sobbing into the crook of his neck - a combination of relief and dread. 

"Hey...it's alright, Y/N. You're safe," he soothes. "It's okay."

Midoriya places your feet back on the floor, pulling back and cradling your face tenderly. Not surprising, he's got tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, too. He wipes some of the tears from your eyes with his gloved hand.

"Are you alright? Are you hurt anywhere?" he asks, dropping your face from his hands while assessing your body for any visible harm. 

"N-no. Couple bruises, but that's about it," you stutter, a sudden tremble taking over your body. "Quirk's not..." you trail off while your vision dilates out of focus for a second. Midoriya doesn't skip a beat and catches you by the shoulders.

"Save your energy, Y/N. I'll carry you upstairs, okay?" his smile is genuine, but you can tell it's laced with anxiety. "We'll get you back to the entrance with Ashido and Jiro, they're keeping watch outside. We'll get the hostages out of here, too."

You nod, the vitality within you draining at a brutal pace. Could it be withdraw symptoms of the quirk suppressant? Is it possible to get addicted to such a drug? You're not sure what in the hell they mixed with the drug itself, it seemed to be different concoctions with each test. You're praying to any deity that would listen to be free of this hell.

Midoriya gives you a quick peck to your forehead before turning around, arms out and ready to lift you onto his back. Uraraka places a hand on your back to help you into his hold, securing your arms around his neck and legs tucked at his sides. 

"Uraraka, Kirishima, come help me gather the hostages," Todoroki notions, waving a hand to the cells at the end of the corridor. 

"Go ahead, I'll regroup with Kacchan upstairs and get her to safety," Midoriya vows with determination. The others hum in acknowledgement as the party separates.

~ TIME: 10:02PM Bakugo's stalking the area of the first floor, seeing a bunch of empty laboratories and rooms with no one in them. No one has reported any sightings of scientists, workers, or anything since they broke into the compound.

What the hell? Ears said this place was rattling with vibrations. Somethin's not right.

He's habitually calm during patrol missions, but now? His nerves are on fire, shoulders tensed from the stress in his heart. Bakugo couldn't shake his intuition, guts churning with unease at the silence of the facility. A faint scraping sound catches his attention, spinning on his heel with an arm raised. Taking careful steps, he makes his way back toward the entrance and into, what he presumed, the large concourse.

"It's about time one of you shows up," a woman's voice calls out, reverberating off the walls. Bakugo jumps back a few feet, gauntlets raised and hands prepared to fire explosions at any second.

"Who the fuck are you?" he seethes, biting the inside of his cheek to prevent his anger from overflowing. 

He hates that his gut feeling was right. ~ TIME: 10:12PM Midoriya is taking his time with you on his back, vigilantly navigating the two of you to the first floor. He's attempting to keep you as steady as possible, even though you've told him multiple times you're unharmed. Your head is tucked against the back of his shoulder.

"You holding up okay?" he asks, tilting his head back toward you.

"Yeah, thank you. I feel like if I let you go, I'll float away," you mutter, bitting your lip to prevent more tears from spilling out of your eyes. You're so fed up with crying, not wanting to be perceived as weak - a damsel in distress. Midoriya would never think you're anything less than strong, and you knew that in your heart, but still can't help feeling powerless in the moment.

He gives a reassuring squeeze to the back of your thighs. "Don't worry, no one will take you away from us ever again."

BOOM!

Midoriya halts in surprise, looking upward as the floor shook. The sound shakes you out of your self-deprecating chain of thought.

"Kacchan?! What's going on?" he asks frantically into his earpiece. There's static on the other line - no response. A few more explosions ring out above you two, increasing in succession.

"Dammit! Hang on tight," Midoriya warns, rocketing down the hallway while green energy begins crackling around his legs.  ~ TIME: 10:14PM "Talk about jumping the gun," the woman taunts Bakugo, sneering in his direction from across the lobby. "Afraid of the presence of a strong woman?"

Bakugo stood his ground, eyes fixated on the woman in the lab coat before him. Was he scared of her? Fuck no, not in the slightest. The thing that frightened him was she was alone - no one else showing their face in the facility thus far. Where was the man that took you away into the portal? Or any of the "henchmen" from that night?

"What an honor to have a top ten hero visit our lovely establishment, especially number four himself."

"Don't flatter yourself, especially 'cause you're alone," Bakugo yells back at her. He's trying to weed out the possibility of a sneak attack and rile up the woman to reveal her hidden defense. He knows she's got backup here, but where the fuck are they be hiding?

"Am I, though? I thought heroes were trained to have keener senses." 

Shadows appear on each side of her as her words hang in the room, revealing two more white cloaked men armed with dart guns. They simultaneously aim at Bakugo, the canisters reflecting the dark liquid in the chambers under the dim lighting.

Shit...! ~ TIME: 10:15PM Midoriya is approaching the open lobby with Bakugo in his sights in the main concourse. You can see over his shoulder that he's standing defensively, presuming that the enemy finally played their ace. 

"Izuku, I need you to launch me in front of Katsuki," you instruct, pointing a finger to his location.

"What?! No! I need to get you out of here," he retorts, shaking his head.

"Izuku. Please." 

Midoriya huffs, knowing you will not take no for an answer. Your heart is in the right place - he's right. You're in a weakened state, you should be rushing to the exit.

But that's not what heroes do. ~ TIME: 10:16PM "It was nice of that naïve little bitch to drag more heroes into our testing ring! Want a sample, darling?" She boasts, one hand on her hip as she points toward Bakugo with the other. "I think he'd benefit from it."

Bakugo hears a dart gun fire, but is distracted by a burst of energy shot out of a nearby corridor, blinding him momentarily with its radiance. He covers his eyes with his gauntlets, bracing himself for a surprise attack from the front as he takes a knee to the ground. He could hear the sounds of feet scuffing in front of him, along with glass hitting the ground, as if someone slid in from the sidelines. 

It wasn't an attack - no, it was a defensive shot. He squinted to sharpen the image of the shadow of whoever rushed to his defense, assuming it was Midoriya.

Time ceases its natural flow as Bakugo realizes who’s standing in front of him. He was speechless, mouth agape as he couldn't help the few stray tears fall from his awestricken eyes and roll over the leather of his mask. 

A glimmering energy shield danced in front of the two of you as you peer over your shoulder, shooting him wink and a smile.

"It's fine now, Dynamight. Why? Because I am here!"

Bakugo snorts, laughing hysterically at the absurd comment. His laugh is contagious and gets you giggling - your heart soars into the heavens hearing his laughter again, his joy curing the darkness swirling in your head temporarily. You never thought a moment like this would return to you anytime soon, and yet here you are, cackling at a dumb joke with your best friend on the damn battlefield. 

"Get up already, idiot," you chuckle, turning toward and extending a hand for him to take. His signature shit-eating grin spreads over his lips as he takes your hand with no hesitation.

"You came," you whisper, his hand lingering in your grasp.

Bakugo smiles, his eyes the gentlest you've ever seen them. "You called."

He tugs you into a hug, careful not to crush you too much with his gauntlets. He wants to melt into a puddle with the way you're clutching onto him like you can't get close enough, burrowing your face into his chest. You breathe him in, the faint scent of burnt sugar filling your senses while clawing at the back of his hero suit, not able to contain the heartache of being apart for so long - how it could have been your final days in this wretched hell.

Finally - you're reunited. You've found him, and he's found you. 

Everything's going to be...okay.

"Y/N, Kacchan - watch out!" Midoriya calls from hall, black whip vines reaching for the two of you. 

But it's too late. 

Again.

The energy barrier crackles behind you as it evaporates into the air. Everything begins to fade into a haze, that all too familiar filtered vision returning to you. Soon enough, you're slumping into Bakugo, your feet failing to keep you upright. 

"H-hey! What's wrong?!" he panics, clutching you tighter as your arms go limp, letting go of his back. "Talk to me, Y/N! What's happening?!"

That's when Bakugo peers over your shoulder and sees one of the dart capsules stuck in the back of your thigh, the injection mechanism switched on with an empty vial. There's a set of broken glass nearby, but that was only one of the darts. The second broke through the forcefield, your quirk not strong enough to parry both shots.

You can take it - you've endured it for a month. 

What's one more dose?

"Fuck! Lite-brite, hang on, I got ya," he reassures while taking a knee, lying you down as daintily as he can before ripping the dart from your thigh. You don't react - shit, you can't even feel the needle being pulled from your skin. He watches your eyes glaze over, their usual shine lightless under whatever chemicals are working their way through your system. 

"K-Ka-Kat-suki...," you whimper through broken syllables, unable to form a coherent sentence. 

Bakugo strokes your shoulders. “I’m here, I’m not leavin' ya.”

"Aww, what a lovely reunion!" the woman chimes in mockingly, regaining Bakugo's attention. The guards next to her have sheathed their guns and stand with their arms crossed.

"Color me surprised that she not only has connections to top ranked heroes, but close relationships with them? Talk about luck."

"What did you do to her?!" Bakugo's chest tightens, fury brewing hotter within himself. Midoriya makes his way over and slides to the ground beside Bakugo in a defensive stance.

"Little miss hero has been such an obedient subject, our best results thus far. Her quirk factors are strong - exactly what we were looking for."

"What did you give her?!" Midoriya repeats, eyes narrowing in her direction. 

The lady cackles to herself, proud of her accomplishments in breaking you from the inside out for her own benefit. 

"She was gullible enough to believe I was an undercover hero! I let her reach out so it would be easier to round up more test subjects - especially heroes. These civilian quirks were getting tiresome and boring to study." 

You were so fucking stupid for believing her. How could you be so naïve? The torture of this place was getting to be too much...you needed a miracle, no matter how narrow the possibility of escape looked. The desperation to be free was stronger than the ability to see through her lies. 

"She fell into our laps at the perfect time. Her psionic energy quirk has been groundbreaking for our serums, especially the hallucination and forced quirk exertion compounds. Speaking of, that one should be kicking in any minute now."

On queue, your body begins to twitch on its own, a surge of energy zapping you back to life. It's as if you're being puppeteered by an invisible handler, rising from the ground and to your feet. 

Both boys rocket to their feet, taking a guarded step back from you. Your head hangs low while your fingers flex, a glow emanating from your palms. Before they can ask any questions, your head snaps up at them, a spellbound look in your now flickering irises. 

"-the fuck?" Bakugo mutters, a horrified expression on his face. The pain is excruciating as the pressure of the energy is begging to be released in any way possible. You can't vocalize the pain through your quivering lips, the only hint at the anguish being the lone tear streaming down your face. 

"Now, subject 57 - begin sequence 23," the lady dictates, clapping her hands.

The instinct to fight becomes impossible to ignore, drowning out all of your attempts to regain control of your body. Instead, you're on auto-pilot, launching an attack toward Bakugo and Midoriya. They dodge out of your range, but you pivot lightning quick toward Midoriya, gunning to attack him.

"Hey, it's me! Izuku!" he yells as he weaves through your strikes, thinking it could wake you up from the mind control of the drug. "You know me!"

You successfully land an energetically charged punch to the right side of Midoriya's jaw, knocking him backward before kicking him in the chest and sending him skidding across the concrete. 

Bakugo approaches you from behind while you're distracted, gripping your shoulders firmly. 

"Calm down! We can work-"

You silence him by placing a hand on both his gauntlets, not bothering to turn and face him. Shockwaves of energy come bursting from your hands - his gauntlets shatter into pieces instantly, leaving his arms and face cut open from the shards. Next thing he knows, your fist is connecting to the underside of his jaw.

Bakugo grunts from the impact, gritting his teeth as he's trying to hold onto you a second time. 

"Hey! I know you're in there!"

Should we answer the door, or slam it in his face? 

…who the fuck is in my head?!

The devilish grin settling on your lips is enough to send shivers down his spine - that's not you. Something’s gotta be fucking with you in your head from the drugs. He swallows nervously, not knowing what to do to help you. You shove him away from you with an energy blast to the chest, sending him careening to the concrete like Midoriya. 

Your chest is heaving, huffing and puffing as the drug surges through every avenue of your body. You can barely form a cohesive thought, let alone understand what's happening around you. It's as if you are seeing yourself through a kaleidoscope lens - this unknown version of you  in the drivers seat. 

“What a marvelous display of success!” The woman cheers, hands clasped in front of her happily. “The ‘Overdrive’ serum is exceptional in true combat.”

Something whips at you from behind and wraps around your arms and torso. 

“Stay…still!” Midoriya shouts, pulling the black whip vines taut to keep you in place. You wiggle in its grasp, grunting and thrashing around like a caged animal. 

“Ah, fuck that hurt…Deku! Let her go,” Bakugo calls out as he’s picking himself up off the ground, wincing at the pain in his jaw. “I got her. Take care of that bitch in the coat!”

“But Kacchan, the drug-”

“Trust me, dammit! Let her go before I make you!”

Midoriya retracts black whip as it releases its hold on you. He’s about to leap toward the group of scientists when the rest of the rescue team appears with the hostages in tow, scurrying down the far hallway. He motions for them to keep going to their exit as planned. Uraraka shoots him a nod and thumbs up. 

“Huh? Who opened the cell locks?!” The lady yells, pointing to the rescue team as they disappear down the corridor to freedom. She’s about to charge after them when Midoriya stomps in her path, fists raised in preparation to fight. 

“Your fight’s with me, lady. No matter what, you’re under arrest according to the laws of hero society. You can surrender, or I can make you surrender.”

“It’s gonna take a lot more than a threat to bring us in, hero. We’re making world changing progress that's far beyond your jurisdiction.”

Midoriya winds back and jumps into action against the scientists. Meanwhile, Bakugo’s got his eyes locked on you on the far side of the room, gesturing for you to come over to him. 

“I’m not gonna hurt ya, I don’t wanna fight,” he starts, taking cautious steps in your direction to close the gap between you two. “I wanna help, Lite-brite. I know you're in there.” 

You can't trust him, he's a monster and you're his prey. He's only here to hurt you, to keep you down. Don't let him near us...don't let him near us!

He stops in his tracks when you visibly recoil, clutching your head in your hands with a blood curdling scream. Midoriya whips his head around to the sound, catching him off guard and causing him to take a hit from one of the men. He shakes it off, trusting Bakugo with your well being instead of rushing to your side. 

Bakugo sprints to you, wrapping his blood stained arms around you with no hesitation. You flail, smacking at his arms with open palms, weakened energy pouring out of you with each hit.

Hurt...kill him. Take the monster down.

"Let go of me, Katsuki!" you shriek out of nowhere, hopelessly trying to shove him away from you. 

"No! I'm never letting you go again!" he shouts back, squeezing you tighter. The bursts of energy from your palms are kicking up in strength again as you continue to swat at his body, red marks forming on his exposed skin. 

"I'm not fuckin' losing you a second goddamn time!" 

He can tell that you're spiraling, that this serum is driving you mad inside your head. If only he could go into your mind and pluck out those vicious thoughts, free you of the agony and take some of that weight onto his shoulders.

If you don't take care of him, I'll make you.

"I don't want to hurt you, I can't control this!" You're sobbing, the looming thoughts forcing you to wallow in the pain. "Please...!"

Bakugo grapples the back of your suit, the neoprene material bunched in his shaky hands, locking in his decision to stay put. "I can take it...don't you dare let me go!"

Something in his declaration to stay by your side snaps you back to reality, enough to control the output of your quirk for a split second, stopping the outbursts of energy. The clouds in your eyes start to disperse, clearing the fog from your sight.

You can fight me all you want. I'll always be part of you, waiting in the shadows for you to break again. 

No words leave you as tears gush from your swollen eyes, bawling against Bakugo's chest in defeat. He loosens his grip to pull you away from him, forcibly making eye contact with you. His heart sinks at the sight of your bloodshot stare, but he can see that you're eyes are not as nebulous as before, energy no longer dancing around your pupils. Maybe the drug is wearing off? It's hasn't been an hour, but it's possible this version has a shorter fuse than the normal quirk suppressant.

"No need to cry," he comforts, thumbing away the tears dribbling off your chin. "Everythin's fine. See? Just a few scratches." He points to his biceps and cheek, tiny cuts from the shards of his gauntlets explosively bursting apart. 

That well-known lightheadedness from past experiments returns tenfold, your body's energy depleted to nothing. Bakugo must see the exhaustion in your body language as he helps you settle onto the ground. He takes the mask off his face, untying the back of it. 

"Sit back for a sec."

Bakugo pushes the hair out of your face and runs his hand into your hairline, brushing it back as he stretches the leather of the mask over your forehead. He ties a small knot at the back and tucks it under the remainder of your hair, creating a makeshift headband. Once he's satisfied with it, he taps the earpiece to call into the rescue team.

"Need someone to call the agency, get the cops here an' round up these assholes."

Kirishima responds instantly. "You wanna call the agency? I thought-"

Bakugo cuts him off. "Change'a plans. Get on it, Red! And have Cheeks come back down, need her to lift Lite-brite outta here." He huffs before tapping the earpiece a second time to disconnect the line and casts his eyes toward Midoriya. Two of the scientists are knocked unconscious, the only person left being the witch that started it all.

Bakugo's attention is drawn back to you at the sound of your sniffling. Your tears have dried on your cheeks, faint stains reflecting in the light. He knows you're safe now, no longer lashing out uncontrollably from the fucked up substance in your system. You look like you could collapse and pass out at any moment, but are fighting the urge to let yourself rest.

"Hey," he mumbles, almost too quiet to hear. You turn, head tilted to the side like it's too heavy for your neck to hold, blinking lazily at him.

Even in this disheveled state, Bakugo is aching to kiss you. He knows it's not the right time, not even close to the perfect moment, but the desire burning a hole in his chest is difficult to ignore. Fuck - he didn't even know if he was ever going to see you again outside of his dreams, and here you are.  ~ TIME: 10:38PM "You think you have me cornered, don't you?" the lady jeers at Midoriya. "A revolution is upon us - my revolution. My masterpiece is ready."

Without warning, she pulls a dart gun out of her lab coat, positioning it against her jugular vein. The sounds of her wicked snickering fill the concourse as the dart gun fires, injecting an unknown toxic into her bloodstream.

"Kacchan!" Midoriya cries out, catching Bakugo's attention. "We've got a problem!"

The dart gun clatters to the ground as the scientist convulses, her limbs spasming unnaturally as she wails in pain. She composes herself after a moment, raising her gaze from the floor to Midoriya, her eyes aflame with energy pulsing out of them.

Holy shit. 

She's got your quirk.

"Not so tough now, boys! Now come on, let's dance!"

⋆ ˚ʚɞ — i'm so, sooooo sorry for the delay on this chapter! hopefully it being the longest in the series makes up for it! i honestly just kept writing, deleting, writing, deleting for over a month. but i'm content with this. enjoy the ride! ⇢  tag list! @bakugouswaif @k1tk4tkatsuki @bells2319 @st0nedbitch @deftonianfr @musicbecky @bakubae-by @slayfics @maddietries

#bakugo x reader #mha bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugo angst #bakugo fluff #mha bakugo #my hero academia x reader #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #☆.rei writes #✩.hollowheart

[wh0re-behavi0r]

How to write 911 characters: Black women

since its black history month, here's how to write Athena, Hen, and Karen. I want to do this because I see really offensive things in fanfic when people write them and that usually goes unnoticed.

Athena:

✨ reference the source material (for everyone actually) ✨

Athena is a very kind and affectionate person with her friends, she's a great listener and always willing to help others out. She's stubborn when it comes to herself and taking breaks. She's a great mom and partner, though conflict has arisen when it comes to letting people in.

2. her relationship with Buck is not necessarily motherly. If you like to write her that way, it's your story but be careful you aren't falling into the mammy trope.

that would include, treating buck as though he's a child that needs protection from everyone, a cartoonish fondness and exaggerative movements, mainly as a character just to prop up Buck.

3. do not write her speaking voice different from the rest of the characters. I've seen things like: "A' course sugah!" Not only is that inaccurate, it's inappropriate.

4. Athena's relationship with being a cop, being in an interracial relationship, and being previously married to a gay black man are all very complex issues in the black community that require research before speaking on. I haven't seen people ever go in depth with this in fics but the show can only encapsulate so much about it without offending viewers so if you'd like to be more candid, please take the necessary steps.

Hen and Karen:

✨black queer love, especially wlw, isn't just to support your main ship please appreciate them ✨

hen is very driven, very caring, very intuitive. She's always been a listening ear for others, and finds comfort in her friends' advice. She's a great parent and a great partner.

Her relationship with Chimney can be silly, serious, protective, and everything you need in a best friend. They both look out for each other and aren't afraid to call out bs. Her relationship with Athena is also really great and balanced.

Hen can be a older sister to Buck, but it's a lot more light hearted. They also can be idiots together and Buck holds a lot of respect for her. Again, do not reduce her to this, that will be insensitive.

While we don't see Karen a lot, you see how much she cares about her family, how she does trust Hen but has been concerned about losing her loved ones. She's a brilliant woman and she often hangs out with Athena and has been friends with Chimney before she was with Hen.

again do not write any of their speaking voices differently. most of the time, Hen code switches and rarely uses any slang so stay away from that.

#911 #athena grant #hen wilson #karen wilson

[jinkookspencil]

til you make it | jjk

jungkook is startled when you call him in need of a favor... to play his dream role - your boyfriend - for a day...

tags/description: jk x chubby reader / fluff / friends to lovers / fake dating trope / rating: like pg13 or 15 with swear words / slow paced / it feels like one very long date :)) / this can be read as a oneshot but it ends in a way that sets up a part 2 which i will likely write but i still haven't gotten the chance to do so please bear with me / image from koomoments, i found it on goggle and edited it further

words: ~7.7k

tw+note: this fic includes fatshaming - detailed description: someone makes a comment about jk being out of oc/yn’s league and her not being good enough to date jungkook because of her size (the person says this to jk, behind oc/yn's back). oc/yn assumes people think that too, and talks to jungkook about her experiences dating as a plus-sized woman, mainly the fact that her ex was ashamed to go out with her. and in case anyone is wondering about where this fic comes from and any sensitivities regarding this fic, this is another fic that is loosely based on an experience i had myself... well, i wish this was what i had ~.~ i channeled my hurt into something comforting for myself and hopefully others. if anyone has ever been in a similar position and was fat-shamed or made to feel like they don't deserve good things because of your size, just know that you never deserved that treatment - you deserve all the good the world has to offer. lots of love always to my fellow curvy/plus/chubby people, and anyone who takes the time to read my fics <3

“Jungkook… Jungkook are you there?”

Your muffled voice echoed through his phone, thrown on the bed behind him as he searched his room frantically for his sweatpants. Talking to you on the phone wasn’t uncommon, but he jumped the moment he saw your name and when the clock on his bedside table confirmed the time. 3 AM. Later than you’d ever called. Dressing might’ve been a silly notion, but at this hour, his fight or flight response was triggered, and he couldn’t bring himself to think, let alone talk to you half-dressed. The urgency and/or intimacy of it all… frightened him.

“Yes! I’m here!” he calls out, hopping into his sweatpants before grabbing the phone and putting you up to his ear, feeling the cool glass of his screen nudged between his neck and his shoulder as he tied the strings at his stomach. “What’s up?”

“I need… a favor.”

“Anything.” He couldn’t have answered any faster. In the back of his mind, Jungkook hoped you’d called for another late-night talk, maybe one of your delirious, exhaustion-caused conversations where you’d fall asleep to his voice as he played along with whatever you’d wanted to talk about… Those were his favorites, even doing the same to you himself. Or maybe it was to inquire about one of his ramen recipes, going so far as to hope you’d ask him to come over and make it for you… In a perfect world, maybe. Well, if it were a perfect world, it’d be a confession.

A favor only made his heart race faster. Jungkook trusted his intuition in getting dressed, already walking to his front door, ready to go to you wherever you were... He already presumed you weren't drunk in a club and in need of someone to pick you up... you didn’t sound like it. The ramen recipe, perhaps? Though you sounded too anxious for it to be so. In any case, he meant his words - he’d do anything for you…

“It’s not serious, but it will take up some of your time tomorrow.”

“I said anything,” he reiterates, partly relieved.

“I’m invited to a wedding next week - my sister's best friend - and I need to get a dress. Do you mind coming to the mall with me tomorrow…”

That’s it? Jungkook joyously helped you pick out outfits, accessories, and even nail polish colors in the past, and every time he did - whether you’d asked or when he’d subtly recommended something he liked to you - his heart would flutter whenever he’d seen you actually take his advice, so he’d definitely agree, happily even…. but there had to be more to it.

“Well, I mean, of course….” he whispered quietly into the phone, his confusion apparent.

“Yeah, there’s more to it - don’t agree just yet...” In the moment of silence that followed, Jungkook silently prayed you’d ask him to go to the wedding with you. To be your plus one. Oh, what he’d give to spend the night beside you, the both of you all dolled up… Imagining the possible starlights at the scene with love in the air, he knew it’d be a great chance at finally confessing. If he chickened out, at least he’d be able to imagine what it’d be like to be your boyfriend for a night.

“Would you…. Would it be okay if you pretended to be my boyfriend?” Jungkook felt his stomach turn at the thought of the heavens answering his prayers that quickly and immediately regretted not asking for more. He almost missed what you’d said next. “If we go shopping tomorrow…. Would it be okay for you to pretend to be my boyfriend?”

“When… when we go shopping?” Jungkook choked, knowing you could hear his confusion through the phone once again.

“Yeah… You see… Most times when I go shopping… someone always has something to say about my body, and I’m kind of sick of it. ‘You won’t find anything in our store. Please leave.’ ‘I’m surprised this fits you.’ And then, just last week, I got the ‘Honey, no dress could flatter you enough that you’d be able to pull a man.’ That got me thinking, and…. I kinda suspect you, or someone, a man, being there with me might shut them up… some weird form of using the patriarchy and people’s internalized misogyny to, weirdly enough, protect my peace.”

Jungkook felt his blood boil as you went on. You, the most beautiful person he’d ever met, were being shamed… spoken to in that way…. often? People went out of their way to make you feel bad…. for having a body?

“What the fuck…”

“Yeah… I’m a bit embarrassed, actually… Should we forget it? Pretend I never asked. If it’s too much, I could just go alone - if I experience it, I experience it. I’m used to it. I just want to… try this as an experiment.”

“Don’t ever feel embarrassed. You don’t have to be. I feel embarrassed for not… for not knowing... I’m so fucking sorry you… ever had to go through that.” He’d felt a pang in his heart as the words left his mouth. An idiot was what he thought he was. It was something he’d never spared a thought about - how people, how you, could be mistreated in everyday life for simply existing as you were….

“No, don’t be sorry, Jungkook. It is what it is.”

It is what it is? It shouldn’t be, he thought.

“Of course I’ll be there, ____. Of course, I’ll be your boyfriend.” He told you he’d do anything for you, and he meant it - he needed you to know that - and this was the very least he could do. “And hey, for the record, I’ll never let that ever happen to you again, you hear me? You just call me, okay? Anytime. I’ll do whatever I can. You’re not going through this shit again, okay? I'm your boyfriend whenever you want me to be... ”

Did you take the hint?

“Thanks, Jungkook,” you say, with an exhale and a slight giggle that gives away that you’d been choked up, the final nail in the coffin for Jungkook’s composure…

It wasn't the right time to confess, he knew that, but an ‘I love you’ still rested at the tip of his tongue. Friends loved each other... 'I love you' was always a comforting thing to hear... would it be so awkward now? You both have told each other variations of the saying in the past - from ‘love ya’s’ to random finger hearts in crowded rooms- but never the exact phrase. It held too much weight - the weight of the confession that, similarly, he’d been dying to relay…. but he reminded himself... it wasn't the right time.

“I told you… anything”

“I’ll see you tomorrow… boyfriend.”

✿

“Hi… girlfriend.”

Jungkook didn’t even try to hide the smile on his face. It’d hopefully overshadow the bags under his eyes… He’d been up for hours after your call - pressure, joy, anger, and pain overwhelming him all at once as he imagined what you might’ve gone through before, what undeserving, cruel words you’d heard from people too blind to see the sheer beauty before them. It hurt him even more that you felt embarrassed about asking him for help. You never should’ve been embarrassed about a damn thing. If anything had been embarrassing at the situation, it was the time he’d spent in front of his mirror, rehearsing vague, angry threats and snide comments he might have had to make, tapping out after a cringey “that’s my girlfriend” line.

Jungkook was never one to insult and intimidate others so purposefully, his enigmatic baby villain-like exterior always doing the work instead. It'd work whether they saw him as the lovestruck, caring sweetheart he was or the tough, protective boyfriend he could also be... but he knew the tattoos, piercings, and his physique probably aided him with the latter option, with Jungkook himself assuming it was the reason you'd asked him specifically to help out, especially over Taehyung, your mutual friend who also happened to be an actor... And busy on a late-night shoot, Tae left him helpless. He could not prepare any speech or insult to save his life, stuck between how to go about his dream role. You'd trusted him, and Jungkook decided he had no choice but to trust himself too. Whatever he emulated was up to the other person, and whatever came out of him would be the truth he’d been feeling at the moment. Whether he leaned into either side - either knowingly or unknowingly - all of it was still him, and specifically him as a boyfriend... That killed the nerves more than anything and allowed him to focus on the silver lining. He’d gotten the role he’d always wanted, and though there could have been better contexts, you looked as beautiful as ever in your flowy sundress… even as you did roll your eyes.

“Boyfriend,” you greeted him jokingly, smiling too before looking at him up and down. “What do you have going on today, Koo? I can't tell if you just came from the gym or not.”

Jungkook shakes his head in response, a proud, bunny-toothed smirk on his face. After ransacking his entire wardrobe that morning, he paired his go-to ripped jeans with a Nike muscle tee, clutching his motorcycle jacket in his hand. It wasn’t like him to wear sleeveless tops outside of the gym, still shy to show off the muscles he’d worked so hard for, as well as the tattoos he’d designed himself…. but provided he was there to intimidate others - and hopefully impress you - he had no doubts about showing them off and his mish-mash of an outfit. “This is just in case anyone even thought about saying anything to you today,” he added, flexing his muscles before spreading his arms wide open. “Come here.”

It didn’t pass Jungkook’s eye that you’d hesitated to step into his arms, but when you do, he finds himself inhaling deeply - your scent, but more so the feeling of you. With you in his arms, everything fell into place, as it always had with you.

“I’ve always got you. I have your back, you know that right?” he whispered into your neck, digging his fingertips as hard as he could into your soft, plush skin, hoping it’d emphasize his promise when he noted how your heartbeat hadn’t slowed as it always did when you hugged.

You hadn’t said a word the entire time, even as you pulled away and glanced up at him - ever so briefly. He'd have waited until you said something first, but he’d always read your face with ease, and the panic he sensed emanating from you only agonized him further. Once again, he tries to push away the scenarios you must’ve gone through.

He murmurs your name, sparking your attention. Remembering his role for the evening, Jungkook allowed himself to follow an urge he’d always resisted, brushing a stray hair away from your face, cupping your round chin in his hands. It felt too good - a taste of his forbidden imagined scenarios and the person he'd always dreamt of.

“Always, okay? I won’t allow my girlfriend to go through this,” he said, forcing himself to emphasize the title he wanted to give you in a teasing way. Again, you roll your eyes and push his hand away.

“We’re just testing a theory, Koo,” you say, starting to walk with him alongside you. “Don’t… get too into it.”

“Are you kidding? The acting classes I took years ago are finally coming in handy. This is good practice,” he said, wishing he could just tell you that he likely wouldn’t be acting at all - merely doing all the things he wished he could do on a regular basis. He kicked it off by grabbing your wrist, intertwining your fingers into his.

Jungkook had been so cool, so collected until this moment. It was only until he actually did it that Jungkook realized that hand-holding was expected, and he cursed himself for not spending more time prepping himself in front of the mirror. It was such a simple act, what he always wanted to do.... and so it drove him crazier than the hug. You’d hugged in the past, as friends do, but never held hands... not like this, at least. Taehyung had urged him to try doing so in the past, to ‘gauge your response,’ but he’d always been too much of a coward to do anything besides ask for high-fives and offer his elbow for you to hold when he walked you home. You were braver, taking his hand and tracing his tattoos whenever your talks went a little too deep or needed a distraction…. just as you did now, with your finger rubbing the skin below his thumb... Still, this felt different for the both of you.

Jungkook bit at his lips, trying to hold back….something. He himself wasn’t even sure if it was a smile or a squeal, but he soon remembered the point of his presence. The favor. A boyfriend - he, as a boyfriend - would never be able to keep his eyes off of his loved one. So, he’d allowed himself to steal glances your way, noting every single time how low you’d kept your head as you walked.

"Hey," he says, stopping.

"What?"

"Nothing," he smiles, taking in your expression and the way the sunlight beautifully shone on your face. "I just wanted to look at you."

"Okay, Bradley Cooper in A Star is Born," you chuckle, nudging him to continue your walk. "You need to watch more movies."

"And you need to know that you look really pretty today. You do know you're pretty, right?"

"Oh, shut up, Koo... I know."

Jungkook didn't know if you believed him or if you were serious or not, but he knew damn well that he was... Perhaps he was overdoing it already, but remembering how quickly his prayers had been answered just the night before, he held out hope that the universe still had his back, silently praying you’d soon realize see how good of a “fake” boyfriend he was and asked him to be your real one.

“This is the main store I wanted to visit, Koo,” you say, stopping in front of a modern gold and beige storefront on the busy high street. Suddenly, he felt an emptiness in his hand and at his side when you let go to reach out and pull open the glass door. Already half open, he forcefully tugs the brass handle as far back as he could, holding the door open for you to walk in first.

“I’m your boyfriend, remember? Let me do it,” he whispers by your ears and into the stony silence of the cool room.

Looking around, Jungkook quickly saw plenty of dresses that’d look great on you. It was overwhelming at first glance, but the one you pulled out from a nearby rack trumped them all. A blush, floor-length tulle dress, with tiny embroidered daisies scattered all over the fabric, including the translucent balloon sleeves and an off-shoulder neckline. It was almost as beautiful as you were.

“I knew they had this in stock! What do you think?” you smile, putting it up against your body. For the first time that day, Jungkook’s mind went blank - he was suddenly grateful you hadn’t asked him to accompany you to the wedding. It’d be too much to see you in it.

“Pretty,” he murmurs, holding the fabric between his index and thumb, tracing over a tiny daisy.

“Right? I’ll go try it on. Wait here, okay?” you say, moving to leave but quickly returning to place a swift kiss on his cheek.

Jungkook was so taken aback he did nothing even long after he’d seen you approach the sales assistant in the back and disappear into a dressing room.

“You can sit over here,” said the woman, who now returned and pointed at the arrangement of chairs a few steps away.

“Thanks,” he whispered, only now realizing his hand had been on his cheek, tracing the ghost of your kiss. You’d kissed his cheek. He’d been happily playing the role of the boyfriend the entire time, he hadn’t realized you hadn’t done much to play the role of ‘the girlfriend’ in return. But you did it. You kissed him. You wanted to, at least in that moment…

Jungkook tried not to linger on the thought any longer, knowing it’d feed his delusions. Pulling out his phone as he plopped onto the velvet seat, he loaded up the mobile game he’d been struggling with, and it was a few minutes later when he realized someone had been calling him.

“Sorry?” Jungkook asked, looking up to see the sales assistant leaning on the couch opposite him.

“I said ‘Hey,’” she repeats.

“Hey…” he responds, perplexed until he realizes you might've been calling him. “Is she okay in there? Does she need me?”

“Uhm, I don't think so,” she replies, seemingly just as confused as he was. “But… I was wondering… what’s her deal?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is she rich or something?”

“What?”

“I mean, what’s the catch, exactly? Why are you with her?”

“Because I love her? There's no catch.” It was freeing to say the words so openly, Jungkook thought - they’d left his lips without a thought. Still, what's it to her?

“Oh, come on,” she went on, rolling her eyes. “You know you’re out of her league. Just keep her for 'her kind' and the fetish freaks on the Internet, you know? You’re too hot to-“

In utter disbelief and refusing to hear another word, Jungkook stood up and made a beeline for the dressing room, his long strides and huffs echoing throughout the store in response.

“Hey, babe - need any help with the dress?” he asks a little too loudly, knocking on the dressing room door in the same fashion.

“....Yeah, actually. Can you get the woman that works here?” you say on the other side.

“No. Let me in.”

“Jungkook, just call her.”

“Let me in. I’m your boyfriend,” he emphasizes. “Let your boyfriend help.”

“…This dress is supposed to be a surprise, honey,” you reply.

“Babe, I already saw the dress,” he half-chuckles, almost forgetting his anger. You were clever as hell but never thought of the wittiest comebacks - it was endearing.

Jungkook rushed through the moment you pried open the wooden door, turning the metal lock behind him. Still lost in his thoughts, he mindlessly zips up your dress before stomping to the room’s bench, sitting upon it with his head in his hands.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” he lies, feeling just how furrowed his brows had been as he stared at the floor.

“You don’t seem like it. Why’d you insist on coming in here?” you say by the mirror a few footsteps away.

“.....Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit, this was uncool. I just wanted to get out of there. The… uh… scents on their diffuser were too much. My nose acted up... started sneezing.” It was hard to lie to you. He’d rushed over because he always had, for you were his safe space even now, but it surely was to prove something too. His eyes darted around the cramped dressing room, trying to look anywhere but you... he was too ashamed. “I'm so sorry, ____. This was my first thought. I didn’t even think that you were obviously getting dressed. Should I leave?”

“Koo, honey, relax. I don't know what's up, but... I don't think I want you to leave," you softly whisper.

Pink obstructed his vision, the spot on the carpet he'd been so focused on. Daisies made him snap out of his rage. And the hand on his knee interrupted the voice in his head that’d been on a tirade on the injustices of the world. But looking up at you, the world suddenly seemed so beautiful - you were in it.

“I'd never leave, then,” he says with a smile. “I’m fine.”

The reassurance was enough for you to get up from your crouched position by his legs and return to the mirror.

“We both know you can't lie, so I need you to tell me how I look in this dress. My curves stick out a little more than I’d like, and I don’t know how I feel about the whole arm situation. But I think I’ll get it. Nice, huh?”

“Nice." Repeating your description was the only thing he could do, unable to think of anything else to say. You were covered in flowers, yet here you stood, prettier than every single flower he’d seen in his entire life, let alone the ones on your dress. The dress did cling to your body at certain angles, and that’s what made it even all the more alluring. He had no idea what you’d meant by 'the whole arm situation' - the skin he’d always wanted to bite on was even more tempting through the translucent fabric… and with your shoulders out... it was a sight too good to be true. A wave of envy rushed over him, thinking of all the wedding guests that'd see you in the dress for hours while he only got a glimpse... They had no idea just how damn lucky they were, but Jungkook knew that he was as well, grateful for this very moment and trying to take a photographic memory of how you looked, twirling so alluringly in the room with him alone.

“Beautiful, actually,” he quickly adds.

"Good. If your nitpicky Virgo ass thinks it's a beautiful dress, then that means it really is pretty,” you say, satisfied.

It wasn't the dress that was so beautiful...

He opens his mouth to correct you, but nothing comes out, and you speak before he does. “Uhm, help me with the zipper again?”

Jungkook’s anger had blinded him when he’d zipped it up - the intimacy of the moment only just sinking in when he stood behind you, facing the back of your neck and shoulders. He was unzipping your dress - granted, not in the context he’d always imagined, but he couldn’t help but do it at the speed he’d always wanted to… slow and steady. What felt like an eternity later, just a few centimeters from the top of the dress, Jungkook sees lace peeking through. Abruptly letting go of the metal in his hands, Jungkook inhales, trying to shove away the image, but it must’ve been the hardest thing he’d ever tried to do. He never imagined you were the type to wear a strapless, lacy maroon bra. He didn’t even think bras came in that color. The rare times he dared to take his imagination that far, only for fleeting moments, he’d mentally dress you up in pink or black… Maroon was, somehow, sexier. This... this was too good to be true.

But Jungkook, always so detail-oriented, quickly spots a tiny piece of metal at your waist. Another zipper. Did he zip that one up as well? His fingers pull the zipper down, only for your hand to cover his, stopping him.

*“*Thank you, Koo... I got it from here,” you say with a hush.

"I'm sorry," he says in a similar fashion, stepping away.

"Don't be. But, uhm... I’ll get dressed. You don’t have to leave, but… can you... look away?”

“Of course,” Jungkook panics, turning around to face the abstract art on the wall. He tried his hardest to make sense of the colorful shapes in front of him, but all he could take in were the sounds behind him. Soft fabric, falling onto the carpeted floor. The brushing of bare feet… bare thighs. Fabrics, zippers, a clanky hanger…. He reckoned that if he tried hard enough, he might’ve been able to hear the humming of a radiator that must’ve been hidden behind these walls - he could certainly feel the heat, wiping away a bead of sweat. Another zipper. Probably the actual source of all the heat.

“Done, Koo,” he hears softly from behind him.

With a blink, Jungkook realized the shapes in front of him clearly made up a cityscape.

“Koo,” you call again, and he finally turns around to face you, hoping his face hadn’t been as flushed as yours was. You’d been changing - what excuse did he have? The giggle you let out confirms his suspicions, which he tried to cough away... until he gets an idea.

"Oh, hey, wear this," Jungkook says, handing you his leather jacket.

"W-why would I?" you ask.

Because I always wanted you to wear my clothes, I finally have an excuse to ask you to do so, and this will drive me and everyone else crazy, Jungkook thinks.

"It's cold outside," he utters.

"Jungkook, it's almost summer... why else would I be wearing a sundress?"

"It can get breezy! And hey, you want my opinion on fashion? Your outfit will look better with this on." Not exactly what he wanted to say.... "You know... sundress and leather jacket? Pretty and tough... Juxtaposition... It's a thing. It's... what couples do."

"I don't know if it'll fit, Koo," you say quietly, staring at the piece of clothing in his hands.

"Drape it over your shoulders, then," he says, doing it himself. He guessed that it would have fit you but didn't insist on it then and there - even if it hadn't, he'd always find ways to make you feel loved as his girlfriend... And you looked adorable in his jacket.

"Looks even better this way, actually..." you murmur, brushing away the hair from your face, clearly flustered. It gives Jungkook the exact rush and confidence he needs. He unlocks the door, taking your hand as he walks out of the dressing room together - more than ready to nail his dream role once again.

“It was a perfect fit - I’ll buy this for sure,” you say to the sales assistant with a smile, placing the dress on the marble counter. Jungkook could feel you try to let go of his hand, but he wouldn’t budge and only held on tighter - he’d let you struggle with your purse one-handedly if it meant he was holding your hand.

It only helped him reach for his wallet with his free hand quicker, handing the woman his black card after she’d announced the price.

“Jungkook, no,” you whispered, hand deep in your purse, the other still trapped by his grasp.

“Baby, it’s only fair that I pay,” he starts, in a low, hushed tone just loud enough to be heard as he takes in your quizzical expression with a smirk on his face. “…Since I’ll be ripping it off of you later.”

Jungkook can't help but chuckle, seeing you go catatonic beside him after letting out a comically loud gulp in response. He doesn’t need to look at the sales assistant’s face to know she’d been startled as well, almost forgetting to hand him the receipt. Putting away his card and wallet single-handedly, Jungkook quickly looks back at you when he realizes your hand has turned limp in his. He’d only ever seen you so petrified when he’d suggested you watch a horror film together, in the hopes of you curling up in his arms - but he’d always stupidly ruin the moment with a laugh seeing your frozen state and wide eyes, just like now…

“I love seeing my girl all flustered. You looked so beautiful in it, honey... Just wait til Sunday,” he laughs with a wink, wrapping an arm around you to pull your body closer to his and finally place a kiss on your head. He didn’t even know if the wedding was on a Sunday - if the lie fits… “Excuse me, do you know if there are any lingerie stores nearby? A place they’d sell something that suits the dress? I’m not done treating her - well, the both of us, really….”

“There’s a place two blocks down,” the woman says with her face flushed, and Jungkook yanks the bag into his hands the moment he is able to do so.

“Thanks,” you whisper, seemingly to both him and the woman. Reaching for your hand once again, Jungkook intertwines your fingers in his, occupying both of his hands and awkwardly following you out.

The two of you walk side by side in silence, replaying the moment until the store is out of sight and Jungkook finally realizes the gravity of what he’d said.

“____... Sorry about… what I said back there. I really didn't mean to be disrespectful... I should’ve checked in with you first before just saying that shit. It was just where my mind went to, and...Wait… Fuck.. please don’t think I had those thoughts when-”

“You didn’t?”

“Huh?”

“You didn’t have those thoughts?”

Jungkook could so easily read your face most times, but this wasn’t one of them. Did you want him to have those thoughts about you? Should he lie? Were you just playing the role of the girlfriend, even now? Should he answer as the boyfriend or just Jungkook or…

“Relax, Koo. It was just unexpected… a little jerky, if it wasn’t you or if I hadn’t asked you to pretend… I thought the maroon suits the dress, though,” you pout.

“It does!” Jungkook blurts. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Jungkook. That was actually nice,” you reassure him with a squeeze on his arm, interrupting his train of thought.

“Nice?”

“Yeah… this is all…. this is very nice,” you hum, tugging at his leather jacket on your shoulders before wrapping your hands around his arm.

Was it really happening?

“I know you’re just faking it, but… it feels good to be treated this way. To have a boy… treat me like this… publicly.”

“Publicly? What do you mean?” he asks, ignoring the urge to deny he’d been faking anything.  “You had boyfriends before, no? What about your ex? Mr. Organic Shoes?” Jungkook could never remember the guy's name, remembering how distant the two of you had been at that time.

You shake your head and roll your eyes. “No… no, he never… he never did this. He convinced me I wanted a too-private relationship -  you remember, I barely told anyone anything… I barely saw you or Tae... anyone. We barely went out, not for our anniversary, not to events, dinners….. nothing. The rare times we did, he’d never even hold my hand. I went along with it, figured that was his dating style and that he was just that shy, but - surprise, surprise - he goes everywhere with his new actress girlfriend, as proven by me drunkenly Insta-stalking him the other night. I like nights in more than anyone, but it was clear he just wanted me in private. In the breakup, he actually admitted he’d be ashamed to go out with me. It was that messy.”

“What the fuck does that idiot have to be ashamed about?” Jungkook fumed, even more so when you laugh in response.

“This isn’t a fucking joke, ____….. Fuck that guy, honestly,” Jungkook spits out, surveying the area he stood in and considering if it was possible to somehow track the asshole down and beat him up then and there, but with you still latched onto him so tightly…. he wouldn’t leave for anything. “You were always way too good for him, for anyone… I wish I’d told you sooner.”

“Thanks, Koo,” you whisper, hiding your face against his arm for a fraction of a second. He didn’t have the guts to face you at that moment either, knowing he’d kiss you all over just to show you how loudly and publicly you deserved to be loved if that's what you wanted.

“Thanks for today, too. My theory seems to be correct… I wasn't fat-shamed, so ‘yay’ to being treated with basic human decency. But that means you'll likely have to join me again in the future. Congratulations, Koo - you're one-off acting gig turned into a regular role in the _____ Cinematic Universe. What favor do you want in return? What’s your price, Jeon?”

“Oh, I'm never letting you shop without me ever again. See how good my leather jacket is on you? Forget being a boyfriend, my fashion advice is like no other. No... no, this is a Marvel contract now. I'm in this for life... but we agree this isn’t a one-off cameo? Spider-Kook is the star of this universe, alongside you? Just the two of us?"

"What, do you want me to get another guy to pretend to be my boyfriend?"

Fuck no. Jungkook shakes his head.

"I’m still your boyfriend for the day, aren’t I?"

".. What did you have in mind?"

“....I wanna show you something.”

✿

Nagging usually works on Jungkook. Well, nagging was a bit of an exaggeration - he caved in quickly when it came to your requests, seemingly forgetting his sheer signature willpower. But now, even you would admit that you’d been unrelenting… you couldn’t help it. Jungkook had been very vague about ‘what he wanted to show you,' the favor you'd pay in return for his current and future fake boyfriend gigs. But he wouldn't budge, even going so far as to finally resign with a smile and tell you to ‘just shut up and let him lead.’ Jungkook had always been down to do whatever you wanted to do - a true highlight in your friendship - but now, your heart fluttered at him taking the lead…. and even more so when he took you by the hand and excitedly, physically led you to all the places he did… his hand never leaving yours.

First, he took you to a bookstore - nailing the part of the perfect boyfriend with that choice alone, then taking it further when he went on to say he’d treat you to two books - one of your own choosing, the other of his. Something straight out of a romance book, as your day had been thus far.... and Jungkook must've caught on. Of all the books in all the aisles, he had to pick out “Fake It Til You Make It” - the fake dating romance book that inspired all this, only the roles were reversed… In truth, you could’ve easily asked Taehyung to pretend to be your boyfriend and help test out your experiment instead - the two of you were friends as well, and though your relationship was strictly platonic, Tae was an actual actor… But you had to jump at the chance that there might be a teeny, tiny possibility that life imitates fiction and your crush would see you in a new light. And if he hadn’t ended up thinking that dating you might not be too bad of an option… at least you’d get a day of what you’d always longed for. It was a risk. You’d never been able to hide your emotions and already got teary-eyed a number of times, seeing Jungkook act as noble as he’d always been… even better than the perfect boyfriend you’d imagined him to be. It was getting harder and harder to muster up the courage to ask him to accompany you to the wedding as well…

The second place Jungkook led you to was a photo booth studio. He spent way too much money on many different takes and overpriced photo strips, trying different decorations, poses, and photo options. If his arm around your shoulder weren’t holding onto you so firmly, you’d have bolted when he’d insisted on taking a ‘couples version,’ as if the rest weren’t torturously coupley enough. He must have found you out, and it was getting embarrassing.

“I guess…. To back up this lie,” you’d said sheepishly, trying to remind yourself of the situation.

“Sit on my lap and sit still,” he’d instructed, helping you onto his lap and wrapping his arms tightly around you.

Looking off to the side, you couldn’t tell what Jungkook did for the first photo - probably a funny face. For the second, he turned your face to his with his fingers underneath your chin, and you heard the camera click. His features seemed softer, a twinkle present in his eyes… you’d missed the countdown once again, and suddenly Jungkook’s lips were on your cheek, your face held in his hand. He let out a loud mwah you could still feel against your skin after he backed away.

“You kissed my cheek earlier, so…” he quickly mumbled.

A stinging feeling hadn’t left your face. It was hard to say whether it was the lingering feeling of Jungkook’s lips or its effect, the smile you couldn’t stop from appearing on your face.

“Here,” Jungkook whispers, handing you one of the two duplicate photo-strips.

Oh… he was looking at me in that first photo. Why do we look so in love? Holy shit, is he a good actor. Oh hey, how did I not realize he’d also been smiling when he kissed my cheek?

“Put it on the back of your phone,” you hear.

“To back up the lie,” he says, repeating your own words when you finally look at him through your lashes, catching him slip his copy into his wallet as you did into your phone case. Before you were able to process what he’d just done and the photos staring back at you, he wrapped his around your wrist, pulling you out of the tight space.

It was still hard to tell what Jungkook had wanted to show you…. More glimpses of something you could never have, perhaps…

✿

Jungkook was running out of time. He wanted to do so much more for you. He’d imagined taking you out on so many different types of dates and crammed in as many as he could with the time he had left in the day, the possibly pivotal hours that he hoped would awaken something in you.

It was hard not to get carried away, as he always had a tendency to... He’d begun speculating that he actually was in a dream in the bookstore when he found the novel with a story eerily similar to his exact predicament. Ever the believer in fate, Jungkook took it as a sign that he was doing the right thing…. and if all that he was doing couldn’t wake you up, surely the book would... Then at the photobooth… Jungkook could have sworn you’d felt like a real couple then - you’d just been goofing around together, as you always had…. In such a cramped space filled with laughter and love, he’d finally mustered up the courage to kiss you back. He could have sworn he’d seen you smile so wide after that, and that made him happier than the kiss did. Maybe he had a shot....

The third stop was a quick run to the grocery store, which he knew would confuse you most of all. He mindlessly grabbed both of your favorite snacks and drinks in a rush before dashing out, thanking the heavens that he'd made it exactly where he wanted to be, right on time after that.

The park, before sunset.

As expected, the place was packed with couples, families, and friend groups all gathered around and enjoying golden hour. The cool sun shined through marshmallow-like clouds high in the warmly-hued sky. Laughter, music, and joy could be heard all around you - the sounds of happiness, home, and peace.

A perfect spring day.

A perfect opportunity.

Once you'd set up camp and his impromptu picnic, Jungkook leaned back and silently motioned to you to lean against his chest. You do so, cuddling right against him and making Jungkook feel so whole. He'd urged you to read the book he picked out, but you settled on the second one and suggested he give the other a go himself. Jungkook was never a reader, and he would read if you'd asked him to do so sincerely... but he put the book down five pages in. Why would he read a book, especially one that you needed, when he could bask in the beauty of his reality right there in that very moment?

Only thinking this far, Jungkook didn't know what to do after this, but he knew one thing: he’d never felt more alive nor more at peace.

"It's beautiful, Koo."

Jungkook opens his eyes, after closing them briefly as he took in the moment to see you staring up at the orange-pink sky.

"Yeah, it is. You're prettier, though," he says.

"Thanks, boyfriend," you scoff. "Thanks for showing me this... Thank you for the favor. Thank you for everything, Koo. I have to say that again.”

"The sky isn't exactly what I wanted to show you today, _____."

"Oh? Well, what is it?"

“Look at me, _____.”

Startled by his sudden command, you sit up to face him. He couldn’t say what he needed to say without seeing, knowing you believed him… Your eyes always told the truth.

“All of it... All of this... This day was what I wanted to show you. I wanted to show you… the kind of love you deserve. The kind of boyfriend you deserve. Actually, no - this isn’t even half of what you deserve. This is just the shit I could think of on the spot on a Monday afternoon. You deserve so much more, _____. I want to show that to you. I want to… I want you to know that. You don’t need to thank me for anything. The favor wasn’t even a favor. You deserve to have someone do that for you, no questions asked. I said ‘always,’ didn’t I? You deserve to go on dates, a boyfriend who loves you loudly and proudly.”

When your ears perked up, Jungkook knew you were listening. Really listening. But the tears on your face interrupted his train of thought. He needed to do something.

“Here,” he starts, clearing his throat as he stands up. “I LOVE HER, WORLD - I LOVE MY GIRLFRIEND! I AM IN LOVE WITH HER!” Jungkook’s voice echoed loud enough for every surrounding person to turn to him after his very loud declaration towards the sun.

“Jungkook!” you quietly protest, pulling him back down with a shocked smile on your face.

“I don’t know if you want exactly that….” he says, a proud, bashful smile still on his face as he reaches for your hand. “But you deserve it, regardless. Even if it’s not with me…. That’s what I wanted to show you. I wanted to show the love you deserve.”

Jungkook thanked the heavens for having his back once again. He'd imagined confessing a million different ways, but he'd never have imagined for it to go so smoothly and in such a spontaneously romantic setting. For such an important moment, he was thankful he could read you like a book once again. You took in every word, and your eyes began to water. This was it.

“Even if it’s not with you?”

Wait... what?! What did he say?! What did you say?!

"_____?”

Jungkook had been just as startled as you’d been at the calling of your name. It came from a woman who’d been sitting behind you, someone he had noticed earlier who had been clearly listening in on his confession, even smiling widely with the man beside her when he jumped up and declared his love so loudly. She… knew you?

"Rina?” you say, the shock you’d already been in still present on your face. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s our last date night before the wedding! Picnic in the park - a classic, isn't it? You would know, boo! You have a boyfriend! You're doing the same!”

You turn, mouth agape, to face Jungkook. “Oh, we’re….”

“Oh, don’t bother denying it. We all heard loverboy’s declaration - straight out of a 1980s film. I love it! I won't tell your sister if you don't want me too,” she cheers, smiling at Jungkook. “Oh wait, you aren’t even hiding it, are you? Look at your phone case!”

The photos of you in his arms, him kissing your cheek, were displayed right there through your crystal clear phone case on your lap. Behind his now bashful smile, Jungkook felt a thrill at the exposure.

“Oh, don’t be so shy now, you two,” the man speaks now. “You reminded us of ourselves.”

“____! He's just your type! What’s your name, cutie?” the woman, Rina, asks.

“Oh, it’s Jungkook.”

"Jungkook, I'm Rina. I'm friends with _____ and her sister! I assume you're coming to our wedding next week? _____ must have told you about it already. As long as you’re _____’s boyfriend, you’re welcome. Jae & I are going all out and want as many people there as possible!”

Jungkook had no idea what he must've done in his life, or a past one, for the universe to have his back like this. It’s exactly what he’d wanted… except it didn’t come from you. With all eyes on him, his dart to you, relieved and euphoric to see you smile and nod.

“I, I, I’d love to…"

“Great! I guess we’ll see you then, loverboy. Bye, my love,” Rina says, turning back to give you a hug. “I know me and your sister are the ones who taught you not to hear anything a man has to say but…. He’s a good one. Keep him. Listen to Jungkook, huh?”

Jae leads Rina away, the two of them waving goodbye and turning back until they are out of sight. But Jungkook can’t face you yet. He confessed…. didn’t he? He knew you were listening, but it still felt as though his words remained in the air, unfinished. Did you finally get it? Rina did. The whole damn park did. At least he’d gotten what he wanted. One more gig… One more gig to perfect it.

“I guess you’re my date…. loverboy.”

#jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook scenario #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fluff #bts scenarios #bts scenario #jungkook x reader #bts

[flightlessangelwings]

Trust and Intuition Chapter 3- The Rebels

Din Djarin x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

Word count- 3.2k

Warnings- smut (18+ ONLY!), protective!Din, soft!Din, feelings, we learn about reader’s backstory, drama, leading up to action

Notes- This is the biggest change to this story in this rewrite. I basically re wrote this part from scratch, save for 2 little scenes (the kiss and the last exchange with Din). I also made reader’s backstory more ambiguous compared to what it was in the original. I also added smut because why not lol! Enjoy and thank you for reading!

Fic is tagged if you want to catch up on parts you missed! To stay up to date on when I post, also follow my update blog and turn on post notifications @flightlessangelwings-updates​

~

“Your highness!” an older man with grey hair and a warm, kind face greeted you the moment the Mandalorian landed the Razor Crest at the rebel base on Durane.

Your eyes lit up when you saw him and you ran towards him with your arms wide, “Sion!” you sighed in relief as you crashed into him, both of you embracing each other tightly, “It’s been too long!” You paused as you pulled away to meet his gaze, “But I told you not to call me that. You’ve known me since before I was a queen, and that’s all I want to be to you.”

Sion grinned at you like a proud father, “You were always a queen to me even before you could walk straight,” he nudged your nose playfully, “And I’ll always be proud of the woman you grew up to be,” his gaze trailed over your shoulder to the Mandalorian and the child who made their way off the ship. Sion looked at you, and when you nodded, he made his way over to him with his hand out, “Thank you, Mando,” he greeted him, “Our transports have been down, and I wasn’t sure how we would get these kids out this time. I’m more in debt to you than you realize.”

The Mandalorian took his hand and shook it, “No debt is necessary,” he said softly as he glanced over to the children who cautiously followed behind him, “Children should always have a place where they are safe,” he glanced down at his own foundling as he spoke.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Sion beamed at him before he addressed the children, “Come this way kids,” he guided them inside, “There’s food and a place to rest your heads for the night.”

The children’s faces lit up as their energy seemed to spark back at the mention of a warm meal and a safe roof over their heads. Gleefully, they bounded inside, following Sion’s lead while you and the Mandalorian tailed behind. Mando couldn’t help but notice the relief on your face as you found yourself in need of safety as well…

*

“Vero has Dria in a grip,” you spoke at the table where Sion, Mando and you gathered, “At first glance, things seem normal, but there’s more going on than anyone realizes. He’s taking children for Maker knows what, he’s hiding and destroying texts and books, he’s openly allowing stormtroopers in the palace now…” you turned to Sion with a pleading look in your eyes, “We have to do something before the Empire destroys everything Dria stands for.”

Sion sighed as he ran his hand across his face, “What can we do though?” he sounded defeated already, “He has an army. He has the Empire at his back. We number 30 at most.”

“I don’t know,” you exhaled as you dropped your head, “But I think he knows I’m the vigilante…”

Sion breathed your name as concern laced his face. He glanced over at the Mandalorian, “We’ve all lost everything at the hands of the Empire. Families. Friends. We’re all we have left.” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Mando said. 

Encouraged by Mando’s words, you lifted your head up and a fresh conviction was apparent in your eyes, “Everyone thinks the empire is gone, that we won,” you spoke with authority that you learned from your time as queen,  “But that’s not true, and I think you know that. They’re all around us, planting seeds that they wait patiently to grow. But it’s our job to stop that. We have to stop their weeds from taking root and growing so big that they choke us and take out our light. I’ve been fighting this nettle since I was small, so have you Sion, and I don’t plan on stopping until either they die… or I do.” 

Mando watched with his breath caught in his chest. He wasn’t sure what to think, or even what to do next. All he knew was he wanted to help you and the others. “So what’s your plan then?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” you sighed. 

All Mando wanted to do was reach out to you, but he stayed still. His eyes never left you, though. 

Sensing the tension, Sion interjected, “How about we rest for the night,” he looked at you with melancholy in his eyes, “I think we all need it especially after what you two have been through.” 

*

The Mandalorian sat alone in the little room he had been given for the night. An empty bowl sat in front of him as he gently guided his helmet back into his head. The silence echoed in the room as he sat alone with his thoughts, wondering what he should do next, and how to keep you and everyone else safe. The image of your face lingered in his mind as he let out a sigh to himself.

But a knock at his door broke Mando out of his thoughts. He quickly stood and opened the door, relieved to find you on the other side. He breathed your name as he stepped aside and allowed you in, “Is everything alright?”

A soft smirk briefly graced your face, “I came by to ask you the same thing,” you glanced over at the empty bowl, “I hope that was ok for you…”

“It’s fine,” Mando cut you off as he moved next to you.

You looked around, “And your kid? The others?” you asked.

“Yeah,” Mando replied, “Your father took all the kids to get something to eat.”

“He’s fine with them,” you reassured the Mandalorian, sensing the concern in his tone, “Sion is the closest thing I have to family left,” you thought out loud.

“I didn’t mean…”

“It’s alright,” you interrupted, “We’ve all lost nearly everything to the Empire. We have to hold on to all the family that we can,” you met his vizor, “Otherwise we would all be completely alone. It’s been lonely enough being married to Vero. But the rebels needed a spy on the inside… And it appeared that I was his type…” you let out a deep breath, “Sion almost had a heart attack when I told him I’d do it,” you laughed bitterly, “The sacrifices are worth it though, as king as those kids are safe,” you fired a small smile that didn’t reach your eyes, “Even if I have to do this alone.” 

Mando reached out and squeezed your shoulder as he spoke your name, “You’re not alone. As long as I’m here, you’re not alone.” It was then he made a silent promise to himself to protect you, and he realized in that moment just how much you meant to him. He also felt a wave of anger towards Vero and what you must have gone through to remain a spy for the rebels. 

You looked at him with wide eyes and even though you couldn’t see his face, you could feel his energy. In his touch, you could feel how he cared. You felt as though the two of you shared a special connection, and you wondered if he felt the same way. Warmth spread across your face as your thoughts turned from your past to your present.

“Do you trust me?” you asked him as you lay your hand on top of his. Nerves pulsed through your veins, but you fingered you only had this one night and it was now or never.

“Yes,” his answer came without hesitation. 

You ripped a long piece of fabric off your shirt and wrapped it tightly around your eyes. When it was secure and your vision was completely blocked, you reached up to his helmet. You could feel his gloved hands over yours as he helped you take it off. You listened as he set his helmet down.

When his hand cupped your face, you realized he took his gloves off as well and it was his bare skin against yours. You reached out and felt his chest in front of you, the beskar cold under your touch. You moved your hands up to feel his face. It was warm and you could feel scruff along his jawline. His gaze was fixed on your lips as your hands roamed over his face and into his hair.

He kept one hand on your cheek and his other securely on your waist. Slowly, he pulled you close to him and gently touched his lips to yours. It was a light kiss at first, then you deepened the kiss as you held onto his soft hair. Your tongues danced to a song without music as waves of feelings rushed from the two of you. The kiss spoke more than words could for either of you as both your and Mando’s emotions ran wild.

Reluctantly, you broke away for air, but your faces did not stray far from each other. Mando rubbed his thumb over your cheek tenderly as he studied every inch of your face. He pulled you close again as he rested his face against yours. You held onto him tightly, as if you were afraid he would disappear if you let go. Even though his vision wasn’t blocked, Mando had the same fear.

It was then you heard his voice, “Din.”

“What?” Your voice was just a whisper.

“My name. It’s Din Djarin,” he repeated softly.

With this, you knew how much he trusted you, and it made you realize how much you cared about him. Din held you tightly as you both enjoyed these last few quiet moments together. You were both fully aware of what was to come, and that this may be the last time you would have a moment like this.  

Feeling a sudden sense of need, Din pulled you against him as he guided both your bodies back towards the cot that sat in the far end of the room. Trusting him fully, you didn’t resist at all, and you sighed as you felt his strong grip on you. 

“Is this ok?” Din asked in a whisper as his lips hovered over yours and his hands gripped at your clothes.

“Yes,” you answered immediately. It was more than ok. It was what you had wanted since he took your hand. And unbeknownst to you, the Mandalorian had the exact same thoughts.

You lifted your arms as he carefully stripped you of your shirt first, then his hands wandered down your body. Goosebumps erupted on your skin at the feeling of his bare hands on you, and you shivered despite feeling warm. You heard his breath hitch in his throat as he stopped and cupped your breasts and soft moans escaped both your lips.

Din then unclasped your pants while you held onto his shoulders and stepped out of them eagerly. His hands landed on your now bare hips as he guided you once more towards the cot. His grab never faltered even as he fumbled backwards onto the cot, bringing you to straddle his waist.

“Fuck,” Din breathed.

You gasped, “What is it?”

“You’re beautiful,” his hands roamed up and down your body, memorizing every inch of you before he grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you in for another kiss.

You moaned into his mouth as you parted your lips for him and slowly rocked yourself along his stiffening cock. Even though the fabric, he felt so good underneath you, and you instantly craved more. 

“Din,” you whined as you buried your fingers in his hair, “Please… I need you.”

He groaned through gritted teeth as his cock twitched, “I’ve got you,” Din’s voice was low and full of his own need. He kept one hand on you at all times as he fumbled with his own pants, eager to free his cock.

You slipped your hand in between your bodies to help him, and when your hand brushed against his cock, you let out a soft gasp. Din moaned as a pulse was sent through his veins the moment you touched him. And it only grew as you pumped his cock slowly while your lips hovered over his.

“You’re perfect,” he groaned as his eyes rolled back into his head.

“You’re perfect,” you echoed back as you lifted your hips and felt the tip of his cock as your entrance, “Fuck… Din…”

Both of you gasped loudly as you took him inside you. Heat radiated from your bodies as you sunk down on Din’s cock slowly, and both of you clung to each other as if your lives depended on it. Perhaps it felt like they did at that moment.

Once your hips met Din’s and he was fully inside you, engulfed in your warmth, Din tightened his grip on you and slowly thrust his hips as much as he could. Rocking into you from below, Din watched as your mouth dropped open and your breasts bounced from the motion. He was mesmerized as you rocked your hips to match his rhythm, and together the two of you lost yourselves in each other. 

Moans and soft sighs escaped both your lips as you rode Din. Your hands stayed on his beskar covered chest as leverage, but you felt safe and secure in his strong grip. Behind the darkness of your blindfold, you saw stars every time his cock sheathed fully inside you and hit that spot that drove you wild.

Din groaned your name as he ran his hands up your back until he cupped the back of your head. Using the leverage, he guided you forward and crashed your lips against his once more in another heated, and this time more desperate, kiss. He swallowed the moan you let out as the new angle hit every sensitive spot inside you.

“Din… I’m…”

“Me too,” he groaned your name as he gripped you harder, “Let go… Cum for me mesh’la…”

With just a few more pumps of his cock, you came with a cry against Din’s lips. Your forehead stayed firmly against his as your release triggered his own as he came hard with a growl. Din wrapped his arms around you and yanked you close as he rocked his hips against yours, riding out both your climaxes together. 

Your entire body trembled as you felt Din spill himself inside you. Goosebumps erupted on your skin as wave after wave of pleasure crashed into you until you couldn’t take it anymore and you collapsed down onto his chest. Din immediately held you close as he groaned at the feeling of you around him.

“You alright?” he asked in a whisper as he ran his hands up and down your sides, caressing your body.

“Perfect,” you breathed as you grinned against him, comfortable in his strong embrace. 

The two of you settled into a comfortable silence as you laid together in your afterglow. Eventually, you rolled off of Din and you both hissed as his softening cock slid out of you. He never let you go far, though, and he settled you into his arms as you rested your head against his chest. And while both of you were comfortable and content, the tension in the air still lingered as the uncertainty of your future silently hung over your heads. 

“Din?” you broke the silence with his name.

“Hm?” he muttered back as his grip tightened instinctively. 

“Can we just stay like this for a while longer?” your voice was just a whisper.

“Yes,” Din replied in a soft tone, “As long as you want, mesh’la.” 

*

The next day brought the challenges back as you, Din and Sion met with the rest of the rebels to plan your next move. Din never left your side, and his little green child sat in his pram right next to him. Sion glanced between you and the Mandalorian as if he could sense that something happened between the two of you last night, but he chose not to say anything for the time being. As long as this warrior was willing to stay and keep you safe, he was content for now. 

“We’re at a clear disadvantage,” you said, “But there are secret tunnels under the palace that we can use to launch a surprise attack,” you pulled up a holo map of the palace layout and pointed to a shadowed part, “We would need a distraction though… Something to pull the troops away from this wing,” you gentured to the south wall.

“What do you suggest?” Sion asked. He watched over you like a worried parent, though it did not escape his notice the way the Mandalorian never strayed far from your side.

“Vero has a bounty out on the Vigilante,” the smirk in Mandalorian’s voice was apparent as the two of you shared a knowing look, “Why don’t we collect on that?”

“Absolutely not,” Sion raised his hands, “You are not going to be the bait for this. I let you become his wife and be our spy, but I am not letting you put yourself on the line like that again.” He sounded like a worried father as his brows scrunched. 

You sighed as you gave him an exasperated look, “What choice do we have, Sion?”

Silence filled the room as everyone waited for him to reply. With a heavy breath, he finally conceded, “None…” he looked down for a moment then back up at you and Mando, “But I’m coming with you then. I’m not letting you face him alone.” 

“She won’t be alone. She’ll be safe,” Mando tried to reassure him as his hand brushed against yours.

“Captain,” Sion called to one of the other men, “Let’s get a plan going. We still have some other rebels hiding on Dria, don’t we? Let’s figure out a way to get to them.” 

You couldn’t help but smile as you felt his presence at your side. It was quickly a comfort for you, and you felt more confident with the Mandalorian there. But, as the others chattered about the details of the plan, you glanced at the little one at his side. You felt a connection to the child somehow, and his big bright eyes made your heart flutter. 

You furrowed your brows as you asked, “What about the kid?” 

The child cooed happily at you in response. 

“He stays with me,” the Mandalorian said in a tone that left no room for argument.

“But Mando, it’ll be dangerous,” you protested, “Wouldn’t he be safer here with the other kids?”

“No,” his voice was firm but not harsh.

Your eyes darted around the room as if you tried to look for an answer on the walls or the floor. Everyone else drew a blank, and some looked almost afraid to go against the Mandalorian’s wishes. Then, an idea came to you, “Do you trust me?” you asked him in the same tone you used the night before. 

He looked directly at you, “Yes.”

#fic: trust and intuition #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin imagine #din djarin x y/n #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian x y/n #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fic #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal fandom #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fic #din djarin fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fic #pedro pascal character fanfic #Star Wars fanfic #Star Wars Fic #star wars fanfiction #star wars

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BEEN THROUGH THIS

➥ summary : miles cheat on you but don’t worry you ain’t trippin

➥ cheating! Miles Morales x Reader, Hobie Brown x Reader

➥ a/n: had been inspired by @thebestandrealestever fic “NOT YOU TOO”

The New York skyline glowed with the soft hues of dusk as (Y/N) sat perched on the couch in Miles Morales' apartment. The familiar comfort of his living room surrounded her, yet a sense of unease lingered in the air. Miles had been acting peculiar lately, and it was becoming impossible for her to ignore.

They had spent countless evenings like this, side by side, their laughter filling the space as they shared stories and dreams. But recently, Miles seemed distant—his smile not as bright, his attention elsewhere. It was as if a curtain had fallen between them, and (Y/N) was left to grapple with the uncertainty of the change.

"Hey," Miles called as he bounded up the stairs, a smile lighting up his face. "The food's here!"

(Y/N) managed a smile, hoping to mask the concern that gnawed at her heart. "Great, I'm starving."

As Miles disappeared into the kitchen to retrieve their takeout, (Y/N)'s gaze drifted to his phone resting on the coffee table. It was there that she had seen the signs—the late-night messages he quickly silenced, the missed calls, and the whispered conversations he tried to hide. She had tried to push away the doubts, to give him the benefit of the doubt, but the distance between them had become too great to ignore.

Just as she was about to shake off her thoughts, a message notification flashed across Miles' phone screen. The name Gwen appeared, and curiosity got the best of (Y/N). A knot formed in her stomach as she glanced over the messages—innocuous at first, but as she scrolled, her heart dropped.

"You free tonight?" Gwen's message read, followed by a string of messages that seemed to confirm what her intuition had feared.

Her heart raced, a storm of emotions swirling within her chest. She felt betrayed, hurt, and a profound sense of loss. The words on the screen were a painful reality—a reality that revealed Miles' infidelity.

Just as the weight of the truth settled over her, Miles returned, a bag of takeout in his hand. He smiled, the façade of normalcy masking the truth that lay beneath the surface. "(Y/N), I got your favorite—spicy chicken noodles."

She managed a weak smile, her heart aching as she accepted the food. "Thanks, Miles."

They ate in silence, the once-comfortable camaraderie now shattered by the truth that hung heavy between them. Every bite felt like a struggle, every moment a reminder of what had been lost.

As the evening grew darker, the urge to confront Miles gnawed at (Y/N), but she resisted. Instead, she played it cool, pretending as if nothing was amiss. As their meal came to an end, a ding sounded from Miles' phone once more.

"Sorry, I have to head home," (Y/N) said, her voice calm despite the tempest of emotions within her.

Miles looked up, his brow furrowed. "Already? You usually stay later."

"Yeah, just got something I need to take care of," she replied, standing and grabbing her jacket.

Miles nodded, his gaze lingering on her. "Okay. Let me know if you need anything."

She managed a half-hearted smile, her voice steady as she spoke. "I will."

Gathering her resolve, (Y/N) left Miles' apartment, the weight of his betrayal a burden she couldn't escape. As she stepped out into the cool night air, she couldn't help but feel the sting of tears threatening to spill. The pain of Miles' actions was a wound that cut deep, leaving her to navigate the tangled mess of emotions that swirled within.

Once outside, she walked briskly, the distant sound of city life a distant backdrop to the turmoil in her mind. The truth had shattered the world she had built with Miles, and the path ahead was uncertain.

With each step, (Y/N) resolved to confront the reality of her situation—to find closure and, ultimately, to heal. The foundation of trust had crumbled, but within her, a glimmer of strength burned—a determination to rebuild her life, to rediscover her sense of self, and to move forward in a world forever changed by the unraveling threads of a love once cherished.

Upon getting home she made her way upstairs to her bedroom but now in the confines of her room, (Y/N)'s emotions had transformed from sorrow to a fierce anger that roiled within her chest. She felt the need to release the seething frustration that consumed her, and so, she found herself screaming into her pillow, her voice muffled but her anger echoing in the room.

With each scream, she pounded her fists onto the pillow, the strikes serving as a vent for the fury that raged within. The pain in her knuckles mirrored the pain in her heart, and the act of releasing it felt cathartic in its own twisted way.

As the echoes of her screams subsided, her breathing came in ragged gasps, her body drained from the intensity of her outburst. Collapsing onto the bed, (Y/N) stared at the ceiling, the weight of her emotions now tempered by a newfound determination.

Her phone lay on the bedside table, a lifeline that connected her to her friend who had been a constant support throughout her tumultuous journey. With trembling fingers, she dialed the familiar number, her heart pounding as she waited for the call to connect.

"Hey," her friend's voice greeted her, warm and comforting.

Tears welled in (Y/N)'s eyes, but they weren't tears of sadness anymore—they were tears of anger, determination, and a desperate need for clarity.

"Hey," (Y/N) replied, her voice cracking slightly. "Can we talk?"

"Of course," her friend responded, her tone gentle and understanding.

Taking a deep breath, (Y/N) recounted the events of the evening—the cold distance, the heart-wrenching discovery, and the overwhelming anger that now coursed through her veins. Her friend listened patiently, offering words of sympathy and comfort as (Y/N) poured out her heart.

"You don't deserve any of this," her friend said, her voice carrying a mix of empathy and outrage. "You're stronger than you realize."

(Y/N) nodded, even though her friend couldn't see. "I know. And you know what? I'm done being sad. I'm furious."

There was a pause before her friend responded, her voice holding a hint of mischief. "Well, fury can be a powerful motivator."

(Y/N) furrowed her brow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," her friend's voice held a hint of mischief, "why not channel that anger into something that empowers you? Get even in your own way."

A surge of energy coursed through (Y/N) at the suggestion. It was a dangerous idea, one that went against her moral compass, but the thought of taking control of her life was enticing.

"You mean..." (Y/N) hesitated, her mind racing as she considered the possibility.

"I mean," her friend continued, her voice taking on a sly edge, "if he can cheat, then so can you. Show him that you won't be the victim in all this."

(Y/N) felt a knot form in her stomach. The idea of revenge wasn't something she had ever considered, but her friend's words were a tempting whisper of possibility.

"I don't know if I can do that," (Y/N) admitted, her voice wavering.

Her friend's tone softened. "I'm not saying you have to. But consider this—your relationship is no longer the same after what he did. When he cheated everything and everyone was up for grabs if he didn't want it to be an open relationship, he shouldn't have cheated in the first place."

(Y/N) was silent for a moment, her mind in turmoil as she grappled with the moral implications of the idea. The pain of betrayal was still raw, but the suggestion her friend had given her was a fierce reminder that she deserved better.

As the call ended, (Y/N) lay on her bed, her heart heavy with the choices that lay ahead. The idea of getting even ignited a fire within her—a fire that burned with the desire to reclaim her power, to rewrite her narrative, and to prove that she could stand on her own terms.

With the room bathed in the soft glow of her bedside lamp, (Y/N) stared at her ceiling, a mixture of anger and determination churning within her. The journey ahead wouldn't be easy, and the choices she faced were complex, but within her heart, a spark had been ignited—the spark of a woman who refused to be a victim, who refused to be defined by someone else's actions.

She had been knocked down, but as she lay there, her resolve crystallized. It was time to rise, to reclaim her sense of self, and to show the world that she was far from powerless. With every beat of her heart, she embraced the truth—that the fire of her fury would guide her, fuel her, and ultimately lead her toward a future marked not by the pain of betrayal, but by the strength of her own spirit.

Lying in her bed, (Y/N) couldn't shake the tumultuous mix of emotions that churned within her. The conversation with her friend had left her with conflicting thoughts, but the seed of empowerment had been planted. As she contemplated her next steps, her phone buzzed on the nightstand beside her.

Glancing at the screen, she saw a message from Hobie—a friend who had always been honest and forthright, even if his opinions often rubbed her the wrong way. A hint of a smile tugged at her lips as she read his message: "Hey, you up?"

With a sigh, (Y/N) tapped out a reply: "Yeah, what's up?"

Hobie's response was swift: "Can I come over? Got something I wanna talk about."

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment, her mind racing with the possibility of a distraction from her own thoughts. "Sure, come on over."

It wasn't long before a knock sounded on her door. (Y/N) got up and opened it, revealing Hobie standing there, a casual smile on his face.

"Hey," he greeted, stepping into the room.

"Hey," (Y/N) replied, offering him a faint smile.

As they settled into seats, Hobie's gaze lingered on her, his eyes sharp and assessing. "You okay?"

(Y/N) sighed, her shoulders slumping. "Honestly, no. But I'm trying to be."

Hobie nodded in understanding. "It's rough, what you're going through."

(Y/N) looked at him, surprised by the empathy in his voice. "You know?"

Hobie sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I've never been a fan of Miles, you know that. But I don't like seeing you hurt."

A mixture of emotions swirled within (Y/N) as she regarded Hobie. He had always been candid about his feelings for her, even when she was in a relationship with Miles. Their dynamic had always been complicated, filled with unspoken tension and unexpressed emotions.

"I appreciate that," (Y/N) said softly, her voice tinged with gratitude.

Hobie's gaze held hers, his expression earnest. "You deserve better, you know. Someone who values you and treats you right."

The weight of his words settled over (Y/N), a reminder that she wasn't alone in her pain. Hobie's friendship had weathered many storms, and despite their differences, his concern for her was genuine.

"I've been thinking," Hobie began, his tone measured, "about what you said earlier."

(Y/N) furrowed her brow, her curiosity piqued. "What did I say?"

Hobie's lips quirked into a wry smile. "About getting even."

A mixture of surprise and intrigue flooded (Y/N). "And?"

Hobie leaned forward, his gaze steady. "I've always told you how I feel, (Y/N). And I know you're going through a lot right now, but I can't help it. I care about you, more than I probably should."

(Y/N)'s heart raced as the unspoken tension between them crackled in the air. She had always known about Hobie's feelings, but to hear him lay them out so candidly was a revelation.

"Hobie..." she began, her voice a mixture of uncertainty and caution.

"I'm not saying this to take advantage of your situation," Hobie interjected, his voice firm. "But maybe it's time for both of us to move on from relationships that aren't making us happy."

(Y/N)'s mind raced as she considered his words. Hobie's feelings for her were no secret, and her own emotions were more complicated than ever. The possibility of exploring a new path, one that didn't involve the heartache she had experienced, was both tempting and frightening.

Hobie's gaze held hers, his expression vulnerable. "I know this is a lot to take in, and I'm not expecting an answer right now. Just... think about it."

As Hobie stood, preparing to leave, (Y/N) found herself torn between the past and the uncertain future that now lay before her. The pain of betrayal still lingered, but the possibility of finding solace in Hobie's friendship—and perhaps more—was a glimmer of hope that she hadn't expected to find.

Before Hobie left, (Y/N) found herself wrestling with the whirlwind of emotions that his confession had stirred within her. The idea of exploring a connection with him held both promise and uncertainty, and as she sat on her bed, she felt a mixture of excitement and apprehension.

“You know what, sure.” She called out to him.

As they settled into her room, the tension that had hung in the air earlier seemed to have dissipated. They decided on watching horror movies, a shared love for the genre that often led to laughter and playful teasing.

With the glow of the screen lighting their faces, (Y/N) found herself leaning back against the headboard of her bed, and Hobie settled comfortably between her legs, their bodies pressed close. The atmosphere was easy and familiar, a reminder of the camaraderie they had always shared.

As the movie played on, (Y/N) couldn't help but reach out and play with Hobie's hair, a gesture that had always been a source of comfort between them. His eyes fluttered closed, and a contented sigh escaped his lips.

Needing a distraction from the gruesome scene in the movie, she reached for her phone, fingers typing swiftly as she pulled up Gwen's Instagram profile. Her heart ached as she saw the picture—Gwen and Miles, hand in hand, their smiles radiant. The caption read, "Can't get enough of him #bestfriends." The pang of betrayal cut deep, a reminder that the wound was still fresh, and the reality of Miles' actions stung anew.

As she scrolled further, her mind raced with thoughts of retaliation, of showing the world that she was moving on, too.

After a while, she felt the urge to capture the moment—a candid snapshot that reflected the companionship they had found in one another. Grabbing her phone, she framed the shot carefully, capturing the scene of Hobie nestled between her legs as they watched the movie. The flickering light of the screen cast their profiles in gentle shadows.

With the photo captured, she added a caption that held a mixture of defiance and vulnerability: "Can't get enough of this #bestfriends." The words were a declaration of a bond that had always been present, and now, in the face of heartache and uncertainty, was blossoming into something new.

Hobie's eyes opened as she finished typing, his gaze meeting hers with curiosity. "What are you up to?"

(Y/N) held up her phone, showing him the picture and caption. "Just sharing a moment."

Hobie's lips quirked into a smile as he read the words, his expression a mixture of surprise and appreciation. "I'm honored love.”

As the movie continued to play, (Y/N) felt a sense of contentment settle over her. The pain of Miles' betrayal was still there, but in the presence of a friend who cared deeply for her, she found solace.

With every passing moment, (Y/N) was embracing the possibility of healing, of finding happiness in unexpected places, and of building a new narrative that was defined by her choices, her strength, and the companionship of someone who had always been there for her. As the movie's tension built on the screen, so did the quiet understanding between her and Hobie—a bond that was evolving, transforming, and guiding them both toward a future that held the potential for a different kind of happiness—one that was marked not by the pain of the past, but by the strength of their own choices and the connection that was slowly blooming between them.

#x reader #spiderman into the spiderverse #spiderverse x reader #spiderverse imagine #spider gang #spiderman into the spiderverse masterlist #miles morales x reader #miles morales #x reader one shot #x reader oneshot #miles morales headcanons #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x you #miles morales earth 1610 #earth 1610 miles morales #miles x reader #miles morales imagines #miles morales imagine #miles morales x gwen stacy #astv hobie #hobie imagines #hobie brown x reader #hobie imagine #hobie x you #hobie brown imagines #hobie spiderverse #hobie x reader #hobie brown #hobie x y/n #spider punk x reader

[theredofoctober]

MANNA— CHAPTER FOUR: TOAST

Dark!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Dark!Will Graham AU fic

TW for eating disorders, noncon, abuse, drugging, mild Daddy kink (it'll all make sense). Cannot stress the ED/anorexia warnings more strongly for this chapter guys!

This is chronologically the fourth chapter in the series

--

You sit with your back to Dr Lecter as he readies himself to leave for his morning appointments, feeling like an ancient sacrifice to some forest beast, blindfolded and anointed, its snail-fed bride; the dread of unseeing, of not knowing what he does as you stare at the wall is so clever a punishment that you comprehend entirely why more brutal forms were inflicted before it.

He is ingenious in his malice, this man. The fear of the worst of things is the stick that will make you the supplicant to his merest whim.

In cyclical paths you think of Hannibal’s attack at the breakfast table, how he had intuited your intent to cut his throat before you had finalised the thought. The gymnast's grace with which he’d caught you, the psychic recognition of revolt— he has held others captive, before you, surely.

Likely he has killed.

There are many like Dr Lecter, in the medical field, rapists and murderers in their masses, scything the weak, and allowing their names to fall through the cracks in the system, where few care to retrieve them. Already you feel yourself staggering into that hopeless black, soundless as your gaoler guides you back into the en suite by a hand at your nape.

“You may take a bath, if you wish,” he says— how had he known you’d only stood at the sink that morning? “I have provided toiletries for you. No razors, I’m afraid. If you desire to shave, then Will or I must be present, which I doubt you would prefer, at this time. Besides, I have to leave for my first appointment in a few minutes. I trust that you will enjoy the solitude.”

You keep your back to him, half-swooning under your dread of those pitiless eyes.

“I hope that you will not do anything unwise, while I’m away,” says Hannibal, into the frigidity of your silence. “There is no mention of active suicidal ideation in your records. I would be surprised if you drowned yourself; of all the poetic figures you resemble, Ophelia, in her madness, is not of their number.”

“Why?” you whisper. “After what’s happened, I should want to die.”

Hannibal’s arm glides past you, twisting the faucets of the bath until water beats a war drum rhythm against the porcelain.

“But you do not,” he says, his voice so close to your ear that you jump. “Death, to you, would be an unfortunate symptom of the habits you keep. You are ambivalent about life, at the best of times, yet your goal is not to leave it. Your inherent belief is that you can maintain starvation at such a balance that you defy both those who have hurt you and God Himself.”

You watch hot water spin the air into steam, and a tear condenses on your left cheek, quite as warm.

“Does God even exist?” you ask. “If He did, He’d get me out of this.”

Dr Lecter unscrews the top of an expensive soap bottle and pours it into the bath, smoking the room with the scent of dusky vanilla; of course, his perfume for you would be gourmand.

“God kills and aids with equal relish. Who is to say that it is not your suffering that he would prefer?”

“That’s what you want?” you ask, in a whisper like a fragment of snow. “For me to suffer?”

“No, little one,” says Hannibal, touching your quivering lower lip with a gentle thumb. “If that was so, I would have left you to die in your parents care. What I want is for you to eat, and gain trust in those that yearn to help you.”

He straightens, smoothing down an imaginary crease in his suit.

“I have prepared lunch for you to eat while I am at work. I expect to see that you have eaten it.”

Your stomach, hard with breakfast, is nevertheless hollow enough to moan.

“All of it?” you ask.

“Yes,” says Hannibal, though not unkindly. “It is only a light portion. Will is joining us for dinner tonight.”

You sit down on the edge of the bath, your voice rising to a petulant note, as though Will were an unsavoury family friend, and not a man driven to rape by a whisper in his ear.

“I don’t want to see him.”

“Nevertheless, you will,” says Hannibal. “Like hunger, he is the spectre you must face, regardless of your fear of him.”

Hannibal switches off the taps and smiles down at you, undeterred by your unchanged, fearful disgust.

“Goodbye, little one,” he says. “And be good.”

You don’t reply, refusing to turn as he pats your shoulder and quietly retreats from the room. His leaving should be a relief, but his presence drenches the house like blood through a shroud. He scarcely seems to leave it at all.

You bathe rapidly, loathing to be at one with your nakedness, seeing it through your captors’ eyes.

Another set of clean clothes has been set out for you, a perfume of further vanilla, a clear bag of cosmetics, a weighty tome by Dostoevsky, and lunch in a pristine Tupperware box, which you avoid as you would a sleeping asp.

The bedroom door is locked, the sole, small window barred— new additions, you note from the shine on the steel. Hannibal has made definite your inability to escape; the only hope left bare to you is to draw attention from passers-by.

Desperate, you write a haphazard ‘HELP ME’ message in lipstick upon the window, hoping that the letters are large enough to be glimpsed from below.

That done, you sit in a convent-goer’s silence, cowed by the enormity of danger that has found you. The only thing that protects you from the engulfing depths of your abjection is anger, defiance that Dr Lecter thinks himself dictator of what may enter your body, food or flesh.

With a reedy surge of courage you vow to challenge his every attempt on your autonomy, even if you must do so quietly.

You begin with lunch. With a percussive gusto you throw the Tupperware into bathroom bin, thinking you’ve done well to avoid another round of narcotics, and to deny yourself what you do not think you deserve, after failing to abstain at breakfast.

The pasta smells delicious, of cloves and some ingeniously mixed sauce you know would break across your tongue in a tide of exceptional flavour. You pace from the bedroom to the en suite, close to retrieving the plastic tub from the clean trash bag and eating from it, unashamed of such a low; you’ve done worse, in your time, giving in to an animal urge to forage.

You lean against the wall, breathing in and out with trembling difficulty. Then you prise the Tupperware from the trash can and empty it out into the toilet bowl, flushing again and again until every remnant of food is washed down where even you cannot salvage it.

You are exuberant in your resolve, barely weakened under the burden of your captivity.

You shouldn’t be hungry, so soon after breakfast, yet you are— not in the way other people feel hunger, the ordinary cues having been lost to illness, long ago. Your desire for food is like that of a man-eating animal, driven more by a taste for flesh than necessity to eat.

That Will and Hannibal have given you a secondary conflict to wage war against your obsession is almost a gift— there is no longer much room amidst your crowding fears to pine over the food in your stomach.

Yet, there is enough. Purging has never been your particular habit—you’ve found it too difficult, requiring water you are too afraid to drink more than a glass of for fear of the added weight on the scale.

The French toast lies upon you like a sleep paralysis apparition in its density. Hanging over the toilet bowl, you choke on acid spittle, and promptly abandon the venture. Had there been laxatives, they would have been a fair alternative, but Hannibal has kept you as simply and functionally contained as a vivisectionist’s subject, which, to him, it seems, you are.

You bow to your defeat, on this count, allowing yourself another indulgence of tears. Only the fear of the calories you must burn thrusts you back on your feet, striding laps of the room until your vision swims with sparks.

Light-headed, you sprawl on the bed—the same that you were raped in, you think, and move to lie on the floor instead, comforted by the changed perspective of the room.

As a child you used to lie on your back like this, imagining that you could walk upon the ceiling. You’d lived years in such imagined lands, and would have remained in them, still, had they not grown dark, and overgrown by infiltrating matter. As you stare at the ceiling now it seems to blacken at the edges as though with a quickening mould, or else the fingers of some unseen thing, folding over your eyes until they shut.

*

You start from unsettled sleep to the gentle purr of an expensive car drawing in at the front of the house. Recalling your lip-sticked message, you blunder in a drowsy panic to the window and rub at the glass with your dress sleeve, spitting on the hem when the cosmetic merely smudges obstinately under your ministrations.

You cannot tell if the monster in the sleek Bentley below can see the window clearly, but you work rapidly, your breath sawing a panicked melody through your throat.

Though your dress is black, the cosmetic shows tellingly on the fabric. You wrestle the garment over your head and hide it at the back of a drawer, shoving on an almost identical item as movement stirs in the house below.

You sit down on the bed, picking the skin at your fingers as Hannibal approaches. When his key clicks in the lock you start, tearing a hangnail up to the cuticle. You suck your thumb like a child to soothe the wound, aware how infantile you must look.

“Hello, little one,” says Hannibal, politely, as he enters the room.

“I ate it all,” you say, in an all too eager rush. “The food. You don’t have to punish me.”

Your jailer looks at you levelly. His eyes are crow’s eyes, clever, and gelid.

“Let me see.”

He picks up the Tupperware, examining the box. Abruptly he circles the room, then the en suite, his slow tread an axe-man’s gait.

“You have lied to me,” he says, suddenly. “Lunch was disposed of. The toilet, I presume? Please do not insult me by claiming to have eaten it.”

You stare at him, nonplussed.

“I... how did you know?” you falter.

“I have a keen sense of smell. The scent of herbs is very clear in the air. An unusual aroma, for this particular room.”

There is a humour in his voice, but of a sinister kind you know well to fear.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I couldn’t. I already ate so much, and you said I have to have dinner, so I...”

Hannibal shakes his head gravely.

“You must never waste food, if you can help it, little one.”

On a whim, you reach out to sieze one of his hands in yours.

“I didn’t mean it. Please don’t hurt me, Dr Lecter.”

He shakes his head regretfully.

“That is not for me to decide.”

You squeeze his hand as tightly as you are able, aware of how cold your fingers are in comparison to his hale warmth.

“Please, I’ll stay in solitary, or... or forfeit stuff, like they do at regular hospitals. Just don’t... touch me again. I can’t take it.”

“You discredit your endurance,” says Hannibal, smoothly. “It has presented itself as your greatest strength. It would be startling to see it fragment so early into your induction.”

You snap your hand back from him, cradling it as you would a broken bone.

“What’s wrong with you?” you hiss, and Dr Lecter releases a little grunt of amusement.

“I can only echo the interrogative. You have never opened up to any therapist about the most crucial traumas in your past. I am intrigued by their mysteries.”

You glance away, lips tightened. You will give him nothing of your secrets, not even the sheerest slip. He will use them against you, this you know.

��I must prepare for dinner,” says Hannibal. "Come along, little one. You will assist me. It will do you good to be in the presence of food through its preparation.”

*

As anticipated, your presence in the kitchen is fraught with excruciating temptation. As you grate vegetables and slice meat you often clear your throat to mask the thunder of starvation in your abdomen, which Dr Lecter politely ignores.

Though he maintains a flow of light, one-sided conversation, you know how narrowly he watches you, analysing every twitch and attempt to mentally detach from the scents and sumptuous plenty spread out on the countertops before you.

At last, he relents, an unexpected mercy.

“That’s enough. You may wash your hands and sit at the dinner table.”

You linger, gawking at him, not quite believing in your release.

“Go on,” says Dr Lecter, chuckling slightly. “I will join you presently. Our guest will be arriving, soon.”

Blinking, you say, “I’m... allowed to sit in there alone?”

With an almost fond glance, Dr Lecter says, “Certainly. You will not run, for you know that I will follow.”

Will arrives half an hour later, smelling of night rain and cologne. His expression is sullen and furtive as he greets you, his eyes floorwards, lashes fluttering behind his glasses.

You clutch the sides of your chair, silent, sickened, resentful; the man behaves as if it is he who was injured by the assault, as though the shame gnaws down to the core of him, leaving him raw and naked before you.

He sits in the chair closest to the door, whether to guard the exit or to forge the path to a quick egress you cannot say.

Hannibal sets a glass of wine before him; you he only gives water, as though you are not old enough to drink.

“The first course will be served presently,” he comments, surveying the tension at his table. “I hope that you will both enjoy it. You must be hungry, little one.”

You shake your head, afraid that if you open your mouth to speak you will only scream. This meal isn’t meant to tantalise the senses, but to torture: you know it from the unwilling reunion of his guests, of the punishment that leers from a narrow future upon you.

A quivering shrew, you stare at your untouched glass as Will clears his throat, pressed by the pains of your silence to speak.

He invokes your name, making it as foul as a curse.

“I don’t claim to be a master at first impressions, but the other night...”

“Please don’t talk to me,” you whisper, and Will flinches, pushing his glasses up his nose with bumbling fingers.

You’ve upset him, you realise, with a cold start of revulsion. Him, the violator, bruised by his own brutality, as though he’d no choice in the matter. Had he expected you to be his friend, to care for his sensitivities?

There is something wrong with Will Graham, you think, like a flaw in some creaking ship apt to annihilate the vessel, under pressure. That, or bleed all around him in his shrapnel, while he tends to their many pieces with all the moroseness of Beauty’s beast.

It strikes you that you should make him your ally, this hopeless Caliban, if you can stand it. You will need his favour, against Dr Lecter, to convince him to set you free.

Still, you cannot yet bring yourself to earn it. When Hannibal returns to set the first of many plates upon the table you are wordless in your terror, your fork as slippery as a salmon in your grip.

Will and Hannibal make conversation about a murder case in the area— both seem intricately involved in the psychology of the killer, discussing at length his motives in the poetic lexis you are becoming accustomed to, in this prison.

Still, their eyes and words wind back to you with a potent eventuality, displayed before them in your borrowed dress like a goldfinch chained to an elaborate perch.

Your food remains on your plate, flattened beneath your knife, a childish attempt to conceal your inability to eat it. There is too much weight in these scarce morsels, calories that would swell you into some fantastic horror, or so your thoughts inform you.

If you could eat, you would do so; even to save yourself it is beyond you.

Only water do you swallow, the bottom of the glass thick with a bitter sediment.

“We should talk about her, shouldn’t we?” asks Will, reluctantly, his gaze darting to your plate.

"Indeed we should," says Hannibal, his hand tracing the stem of his wine glass as he would the length of your throat. “Specifically, your response to her residence here, and to her treatment. You feel guilt for having carried out a punishment you feel was not entirely deserved.”

Will swallows, the click of saliva in his throat like the folding of a leaf underfoot.

"That's the problem," he says. "It did feel deserved. Violence for violence. There was a righteousness in defending you. I've felt it before, with GarretJacob Hobbs."

The name holds significance you cannot grasp. Who was this man, and what does he mean to your wardens?

"And like that day, protecting Abigail," Will continues, "I'm left looking at my own hands, repulsed by my own readiness to engage in a taboo and... enjoy it. But she isn’t like either Hobbs."

This, directed at you with a glance of murky guilt.

"She's unwell. Confused. And, as far as your patient was concerned, she was as in her right to protect herself as I was in correcting her."

"Stop,” you say, quietly.

Both men turn to you, startled by your sudden interjection.

"You disagree with Will's analysis of last night's events?" asks Hannibal, with interest. "By all means, tell us what you see. There is no sole analysis of any art; what picture do you glimpse from within the canvas?"

"I'm not yours," you say. "You can't correct me, like I'm something you own, that you made."

Dr Lecter examines your face with a dangerous patience.

"But we are making you. Or remaking, it you prefer. That is why you are here: a construction of what we two will define from mortar and broken glass."

You cannot respond to such unhinged logic without lowering yourself to entertain it, an undeniably clever tactic.

Hannibal brings another course to the table, another, another; Roman emperors could not have gorged like this, yet the two men—both lean, and Will particularly small—clear their plates as though swallowing mere air.

You pretend to eat, chewing food and spitting it into napkins or an empty glass when the other diners look away. It is only when Will barks at you suddenly that you realise he's been watching you, all along.

"What are you doing?" he asks, sharply.

"Nothing,” you mumble.

Will scoffs.

"Nothing? Nothing is not why you're here. You’re starving yourself. Why?"

Disgust pours from him like a vapour, tainting the air you breathe with his unearned judgement.

"Because... it's just what I do,” you say, limply. “It... helps. It's taken over everything.'

“Then stop letting it,” snaps Will; you don’t understand why he’s so affronted, why he has suddenly taken up the reigns of the game. “You're giving into this, letting it cut holes into you. You'll die trying to achieve some abstract state of being that you will never reach. Do you want that?"

Strange, the echo of your conversation with Dr Lecter by the bath.

"I— don't know,” you say, after a strained pause. “Sometimes I'm not sure if I care what happens to me. And sometimes, I get scared."

Will speaks through gritted teeth.

"So let go of it."

You could laugh at so preposterous a command, but instead you say, "I can't."

The atmosphere at the table has subtly changed, all players on the board at last.

"Why not?” asks Will, softly.

You perceive something like care in his voice, an impossibility.

"Because it makes me feel better," you say. "Stronger. I don't want it to go away."

Hannibal sits back, listening in purposeful silence.

Will removes his glasses, placing them into his pocket.

"Today, at this meal, you’ll try,” he says. “Appreciate the effort that was made for you."

At this you do laugh, a soft, broken sound.

"Go to hell. You're a monster. You did what he told you to, and— and you jumped like a dog to do it. Aren't you ashamed?"

Dr Lecter’s posture tightens slightly, and Will flounders, losing a little of his confidence.

"I know it's probably not what I should have done,” he admits. “It’s a radical treatment. And dangerous. But I— we can't take it back. And if I can contribute to you evolving from this then I'll do whatever it takes."

There is honesty in this confession, somewhere, even empathy.

"Don't act like you care about me,” you mumble, and shove your plate away from you, across the table, knocking over your glass in the process.

The effects of whatever drug was in the water are taking hold, making you feel loosely unstable, your inhibitions cast down, and forgotten.

Hannibal’s smile has fallen.

"Will,” he says, curtly. “I think you have tolerated quite enough from our obnoxious guest. I suggest that you consider discipline. She has already broken the rules in place for her today. A meal discarded, a message for help written on her window— It is fortunate that no one came close enough to the house in my absence to see it."

You stand up from your seat, swaying slightly, your heart shuttering like cards on a bicycle wheel to find yourself caught you in your efforts to escape.

"I hate you,” you say. “I want to leave. Let me go."

"Hannibal,” Will cuts in; his face is white, and greasy with anxiety. “I'm not ready to handle this again."

Dr Lecter’s expression shifts darkly.

"Then I will fulfil that responsibility on your behalf."

He rises from his seat and is behind you for the second time this day before you've the sense to run. Shunting you forward onto the table top, he tears your dress methodically up your back, his free hand holding you down with the same carelessness with which he’d handle unsatisfactory meat.

"You are sure that you do not wish to participate?" he says, over your shrieks of protest.

Will shakes his head. His eyes are rolling like a bull’s in his distress.

"No. I— can't."

Hannibal stills; you feel his hand between his belt and your behind, on the precipice of setting loose his sick lust.

"Then should I choose another punishment? There are many at our disposal."

"Don't leave it up to me to decide,” croaks Will. “I feel... precarious."

"I forgive you your uncertainty,” says Dr Lecter. “I, however, have none."

A drugged swell flows through you, looping a weird ecstasy about your abdomen as Hannibal leans down to speak to you directly.

"You are a very disobedient girl. You know the consequences, and yet you do not abandon your misdeeds."

"I'm not playing your stupid game,” you whine, dimly away of how foolish you sound. “I'm not playing.”

“Of course you are,” says Hannibal, coldly. “In time you'll forget that it was ever a game, to begin with.”

He forces himself within your cunt in a smooth and gliding viciousness, sending another brocade of sensation through your loins. The drug you’ve ingested makes the pain a most succulent wonder, playing your nerves with all the sinister beauty of the Theremin.

You sob as he fucks you, slow, and sure, and deep. It should not possibly be pleasurable, is intended only to exert power, and to humiliate— but he cannot help but create art, casting you on the stage of his design.

As Hannibal hurts you, he is looking at Will, whose face bears a quickening darkness. It strikes you quite suddenly that Dr Lecter wants the other man’s approval, perhaps even his jealousy; you understand that you are a disposable object that holds the temporary interest of these two.

It may not last.

Should they tire of you, what then? Thrown back to your parents, perhaps, more broken than you arrived. Surely not, for you may spill their secrets to the world, and ruin their lives.

Something worse, then.

You circle back to that earlier thought, and terror flies back in all its night glory.

Suddenly you twitch and shake in horrified spasms, and though Hannibal continues to fuck you something alters almost imperceptibly in his pace.

"Stop," says Will, suddenly. "That's enough."

"You cannot leave a deer half-killed, Will,” says Hannibal; glancing back over your shoulder, you are horrified by how calm he appears, even now. “Maimed, it will stumble, weakened, until another predator picks it from the herd. I must hunt her to the end, Will. It is all that can be done."

You see your tears soddening the tablecloth, mucus pooling beneath your cheek.

"Don't kill me," you whimper. "I don't want to die."

Hannibal stills a moment, pulling your head back to look into your eyes.

“We do not intend to kill you, little one," he says. "Only for you to accept what you are. You will humour what we ask of you?"

"Yes!” you cry, with a delirious bray in your voice. “I— I’ll try!"

Blue eyes, black eyes, both pairs so equally bright.

"Good girl,” says Hannibal, and resumes his use of your flesh, his cock making a gauntlet of you, every thrust grinding you against the elaborate tablecloth with such intelligent pressure you groan beneath him, juddering with the effort it takes not to come.

Will's gaze has changed, and there is colour in his cheeks. He grips the edge of the table as though to prevent himself from falling, or else rising to join his companion in your debasement.

"Please stop," you stutter out, wanting to bite your own tongue off for the embarrassment of the utterance. “I won’t be bad anymore.”

Hannibal slows deliberately, his cock withdrawing to the point it almost slips from your cunt before he sinks it in the lake of your arousal again.

"Come, then," he says, simply. "And you may go to bed."

In a wailing convulsion you climax at once, scrabbling at the floor on steepled toes as the pleasure rolls from your cunt through your thighs. Hannibal waits for your last twitch to cease before he finishes within you, utterly soundless as he leans down, kissing the back of your neck in a gesture that is curiously gentle.

He steps away from the table and helps you stand, holding you to his chest as you whimper in the after bursts of sensation.

"Are you still troubled, Will?" he asks, over the top of your head.

The other man looks shell-shocked, his pallor an almost grey.

"I'm... undecided."

You pull away from Hannibal, remembering with a flare of insane joy that you are released from the table, that you need not eat, after all.

"Then I am mistaken in perceiving another response in you," says Dr Lecter.

Will looks hurriedly away, and it is only as you push past him to flee for your room that you understand Dr Lecter's meaning. The younger man adjusts himself, flushing, sitting as close to the table as space will allow.

He is hard, having watched his friend fucking you.

Will Graham is not so repentant as he'd taken such pains to seem.

#manna fic #hannibal fanfiction #dark fic #tw eating disorders #tw anorexia #tw noncon #dark!fic #hannibal lecter x reader #will graham x reader #yandere will graham #yandere hannibal lecter

[dujour13]

The Fool / The Lark - new beginnings, improvisation, trust in the universe and intuition

"It'll be fine."

My OC Siavash by the wonderful @goatanarchy who works Elyisan magic for real 🦋🦋🦋 Thank you Arsha 💕💕💕

A link to my fic The Lark and the Crow on AO3

#art #siavash #goatanarchy #tarot card art #the fool #azata #aivu #wotr commander #pathfinder: wrath of the righteous #pwotr pals #i'm sobbing #i am so in love with this #arsha took the vibe and ran with it #knocked it out of the park #❤️❤️❤️

[narachilde]

a midnight stroll.

(gentle!blade x gender neutral reader)

scenario: your late night walks with blade were always a way for you to be there for him. tonight, you decide to take it further.

tags: fluff? it’s got kind of angsty vibes but it’s fluff.. slowburn-esque. not proofread. gentle blade, blade is healing, you help blade heal. au where he can actually walk around on the xianzhou without getting arrested immediately.

words: 1.1k

notes: this is entirely self indulgent i thought of this while walking around as him on the luofu pls dont be mad if you don’t hc blade as a gentle person i just want to hold his hand.. anyway you have a calming effect on his mara here and you want him to trust you more. also i just wrote this really quickly so sorry if it isn’t literary excellence. enjoy!

edit: i was really surprised with how many people liked this so i went ahead and wrote kind of a follow up fic that could be considered a pt 2! feel free to check it out if you like my take on gentle blade i’m really happy so many of you liked this :)

it was difficult to find a quiet place on the luofu. different kinds of people were always wandering around wherever you went, which posed a challenge for your attempts to try to get blade to go out more.

it had been a while since you were first able to help quell the mara within him. it still acted up every now and then, of course. after all, mara never truly goes away, and his case was particularly special. but you could calm him down from time to time and keep him somewhat sane while it threatened to push him over the edge, which was enough for him to allow you to stay around.

it was your idea to take him out more, but he was still pretty resistant to it. he wasn’t a people person, and the xianzhou reminded him of a past he wasn’t supposed to linger too much on. but you knew that keeping him cooped up until you departed for your next stop was unreasonable, so little by little you tried to get him out of his comfort zone.

it was an absolute no when the sun was out. too many people passing by, too much worry that he’d be recognized even though nobody was actively looking for him. more than anything else, he didn’t like how the mara threatened to show itself on the xianzhou. at night he could restrain himself better. but in the day, surrounded by all those people in a place so bittersweet? he would rather not test himself in such a way.

so you only went out with him in the late hours of midnight, when the streets were finally quieter and the only company he could keep was you (and the occasional stranger). the stores were all closed by now, the only illumination on your path being the warm glow of the street lanterns, and the rare food stall that had yet to close up.

this night was particularly empty. the soft tap tap of your footsteps played in your ears as the two of you took your usual route around the exalting sanctum. after your first time taking him out, he always walked a bit ahead of you. despite his claims of discomfort in these surroundings, he was rather at ease with taking the lead on your walks. perhaps it was the same sense of familiarity that he complained about giving him this confidence. or maybe it was just that he also recognized the intimacy of your late night walks, but was unwilling to confront it. whatever it was, you had no qualms with staying two paces behind him. this distance was kept at all times. if you stopped, so did he- but two steps ahead, of course. he would turn to watch you with soft but guarded eyes until you continued your walk.

the two of you had an understanding like this. blade was never the talkative type, so you largely depended on intuition to understand what he was thinking. you knew he was growing more comfortable with your presence. on a good day, you’d even go as far as to say he enjoyed it. as long as you were patient, you were sure you could become someone he was more open to relying on.

blade came to a stop before one of the streams the two of you liked to walk along. you stopped as well (two steps behind, as always). the atmosphere by the stream was always serene. you watched him take in the sounds- the frogs croaking by the lilies, the crickets chirping around you, the reassuring sound of the water making its way downstream. blade always stopped here. you knew the gentle sounds brought him peace.

he didn’t turn around this time. tonight he was contemplative of something you could only guess the reason for. he got like this from time to time. you knew he wasn’t too fond of living inside his mind- too many bad memories. whatever he was contemplating, you wished he would voice it for once. you understood that it would take him a long time to open up, and yet there was still that yearning for his trust. if only you could better convey your emotions to him.

you took a step forward. honestly, you hadn’t even realized you had done it until you noticed his demeanor shift ever so slightly. he tensed up in a way that told you he was receiving your actions with hesitance, as he usually did. you stopped yourself, one pace behind. but you didn’t move back. likewise, he didn’t move away. a sign of acceptance. you took it in stride.

he relaxed again soon after. you sensed he had convinced himself that the one step was alright. it was a great milestone for you, though. even if he hadn’t acknowledged it yet, a closer distance like this meant he was becoming more comfortable. maybe he really was coming to terms with the idea of having someone to trust on levels beyond that of business. you allowed yourself a small smile with this development.

but to truly get him to trust you, you had to go further. maybe tonight wasn’t a night of silent understanding, but rather of gentle action. more than anything else, you wanted blade to really understand you were there for him. so as he stared off towards the stream, you did something neither of you could have anticipated.

you held his hand.

or you tried to, at least. as your hand came down to hold his, he stiffened once more. almost instinctively, he began to pull away. physical contact, beyond that of the violence he had wreaked, was something he hadn’t allowed himself in a long time. and yet, he didn’t pull away completely. a part of him lingered, the warmth of your hand like a newfound comfort to him. one too gentle for him to accept.

but you were there, and you weren’t going to be the one to pull away first. you needed him to know that you were there for him. and for once, he found that he couldn’t say no to your gentle offer. his hand slipped back into yours.

neither of you said a word. blade continued to watch the water, leaving you to feel content with the progress you made. when he was finally satisfied he turned towards you, silently confirming you were ready to go, as he always did. his hand didn’t leave yours when he continued on the route you always took.

and you followed him, half a step behind.

#narawrites #honkai star rail #hsr #hsr blade #blade #blade x reader #blade x you #blade is soft #he’s hurt and he needs to heal #and you’re there for him

[thatonebirdwrites]

Compliation of fic I wrote

So for the Holidays, here's a masterlist of Fics I've written:

On AO3:

TLOK: How Was Those Three Years?

TLOK: Asami's Hidden Box of Letters and Poetry

TLOK: Is This A Romance?

TLOK: Spirit World Vacation

TLOK: Shared Moments Series: Book 1, Book 1.5, Book 2, Book 2.5, Book 3, and Book 3.5

Supergirl: Supercorp Endgame Series: Confession and Unraveling Realities

Supergirl: Terminal Velocity, Texts, and Cats

Supergirl: You Are the Only One Who Sees Me, Trusts Me, and Believes in Me

Supergirl: Reach For The Sky

Supergirl: Tear Apart the World To Save You

Supergirl: Lena's Grimorie

Supergirl: Books of Destiny (where most of my oneshots will be posted)

On Tumblr (now ported to AO3):

Supergirl: Boardgame Practice

Supergirl: Kara crashing Lena's Date

Supergirl: Reach For The Sky (Hiking and Recovery)

Supergirl: Indiana Jones AU Idea for Supercorp

Supergirl: Sam Confronts Kara Over Her Hurting Lena

Supergirl: Kara's Love of Misshapen Pumpkins

Supergirl: Confession

TLOK: Rain and Thunder AU

Supergirl: An Analysis of Risk (my continuation of FazedLight's ficlet)

TLOK: Endless Autumn

Supergirl: Balcony Scene

Supergirl: She Wants Me For Me

Supergirl: Medieval AU

Supergirl and TLOK: Crossover Shenanigans

Supergirl: Color Out of Space

Supergirl: Building Inspection and Lava

Supergirl: Happy and Carefree

Supergirl: Some of Lena's Handmade Spells

Supergirl: The Food Stand

Supergirl: Secret Wedding

Supergirl: The Golden Potato

Supergirl: Lena Regrets Reading Supergirl Smut (But not really)

Supergirl: Matching Tattoos

Supergirl and TLOK: A tale of Two Gentle Moments Supergirl: Cold of Death, Warmth of Love

My Original Fiction (characters from my Elivera world): A Short Trip

Supergirl: Memories

Supergirl: Fallout AU

Supergirl: Nia's Lessons on Intuition

#tlok #korrasami #the legend of korra #writing #Supercorp #supergirl cw #fanfic #my writings #Just a list of things I've written this year #Will reblog to add in any others I write #I guess I have only two fandoms Korrasami and Supercorp. Ha! #I have not posted any of my original fiction on tumblr however but should I? #original fiction

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Masterlist

Hi! This is so I don't lose track of my fics so far. I thank you all for your kind reviews and reblogs, they make my day. Main is blueredwrites. Feel free to drop your thoughts be it in the form of asks, replies or reblogs. 😉

REQUESTS NOW CLOSED! SEE THE RULES HERE

What am I working on?

✨️ Indicates smut.

🪆 Indicates possibly triggering.

🍂 Indicates angst.

🧸 Fluff.

House of the Dragon

Alicent Hightower

Oneshots

Crime and Punishment ✨️🪆

The Queen and you get along wonderfully. After all, the strongest friendships are based on shared interests.

Speak now

Alicent is not too sure of how she feels about you. Or about the fact you just proposed to run away. But she is sure about how she feels about the wedding. 

Harwin Strong

Oneshots

Win some, lose some✨️

Harwin and his wife have a disagreement over communication skills. The end result is exactly as the title says.

Lemon cake ✨️

Harwin’s wife is a tough crowd.

Aemond Targaryen

Mini series

Death in four moves 🪆

Aemond and his new partner explore trusting again after SA.

Death in four moves 🧸

Whatever souls are made of 🍂🧸

MAD

Caught in the crossfire of your familiy's ploys, you never expected to catch the eye of the enemy.

Threads of fate

Oneshots

Last man on earth ✨️

No one told King Aemond about the Song of Ice and Fire. As the daughter of Rhaenyra, you have one last mission left.

Categorical✨️

Aemond needs to blow off some steam, so you offer to verbally spar with him. 

Last word ✨️

Aemond instructs you on the importance of protecting your virtue.

Push and pull ✨️

You just love riling him up. Especially on his name day.

Bouquet of Violets 🧸🍂

You are happy in your marriage, even if your husband can be quite hellish. It all starts to go wrong when a secret admirer shows up.

The Seamstress ✨️

Prince Aemond is your favorite client.

We light the way

House Hightower does not have dragons, but they have a magic of their own.

No masters or kings🪆

Aemond has issues around sex. The thought of being married to you, an angel, it's not helping.

Unforgivable

Aemond and you are tired of being pawns. Instead of chess, you decide to play draughts.

Daemon Targaryen

Oneshots

Honesty✨️

Daemon seduces his unwilling Lady Wife.

Mirror

Courting. Daemon's version.

Capital

You think you married the plainest woman on earth, and you look away for one second and suddenly she is not. Typical. At least, for Daemon.

A Thousand Words ✨️

You want to marry him. He wants to fuck you. The two things are not as incompatible as they sound. 

Violent delights 🪆

As a dornish princess, you live by one saying. All is fair in love and war. When Prince Daemon stumbles into your life, you start to reconsider your stance.

Lookalike

Inside the highest tower of the Red Keep, lives a girl with long silver hair...

Bestiary ✨️

Your husband and you do not speak the same language. During your wedding night, you find out that High Valyrian and the Common Tongue pale when compared to the way your bodies allow you to communicate.

Vūjigon ✨️

Companion piece to Bestiary. Daemon has been having sex without love his whole life. It's easy. Marriage should be more of the same, right?

The dragon has three heads ✨️

It's Viserys first day as a King. You and your twin see him off.

You wouldn't believe the things I have done for her ✨️

Daemon lives a dangerous life. You wish you could find a way to protect him, but you are too afraid of guns. Lucky you, Daemon has a plan.

Miniseries

Gold rush ✨️

Your whole life you have been Daemon’s voice of reason. Tonight, you choose to be the impulsive one. 

Little lamb✨️

After the death of Viserys Targaryen, CEO of Targaryen industries, his heirs get into a legal battle over the validity of the will. It's a terrible time to start fucking your sister's brother in law. So of course, you do just that.

Divine intuition ✨️🪆

My take on modern reader meets Daemon

Threads of Fate

Pyrite✨️

A nefarious plot to place Princess Rhaenys on the Iron Throne leaves you, a handmaid, as the sole witnesses. Deciding to save an innocent life, you find yourself an unlikely protector. But Prince Daemon does not make favors lightly.

Helaena Targaryen

Golden Chains✨️

Helaena isn't yours, but you are always hers

Rhaenyra Targaryen

Oneshots

Baby teeth

Cousins. You love them or you hate them. And Rhaenyra knows exactly how she feels about you.

Three-headed dragon ✨️

Three times Rhaenyra marked you, and one time you did too. Or snippets of the love story I so wanted to tell but didn’t feel confident enough to write.

Threads of Fate

Viserys Targaryen (Yuck)

The dragon has three heads ✨️

It's Viserys first day as a King. You and your twin see him off.

#daemon targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #daemon smut #aemond targaryen fluff

[rinrinx2]

Omg!!! I loved your “A Father’s Intuition” fic. Could you make a part 2 with uncle Ran being an obnoxious uncle and Rindou nearly having a heart attack by his shenanigans with his kid? Please and thank you!!

Uncle Ran

Rindou x Reader

Warnings: Inappropriate language, Adult themes, Mature themes, Ran just being wreckless, Parenting.

This is about if the Rin dad series, but along the Uncle Ran series

Rindou and Renzo Masterlist

"You think he'll be okay?" Rindou asked you for what felt like the millionth time.

You slowly looked over at your husband from the mirror, watching as he sat on the bed fighting to button his evening shirt as he stressed over the same issue that plagued his mind for the whole day.

"Renzo is going to be fine" you said as you walked over towards your husband, carefully helping him align his shirt buttons into the correct holes.

"It's not Renzo I'm worried about, it's Ran" Rindou said with a sigh.

"Ran is going to be fine. He raised you didn't he" you asked rhetorically, as you finished buttoning up his shirt.

"That's the problem" Rindou said with a sigh as he stood up from the bed, following your figure back over towards the mirror where you examined your appearance.

"Ran let me skip school, eat whatever I want for breakfast, join a gang and go to host clubs all before the age of 13" Rindou continued, watching as your head turned a full 180 dawning a scowl at the mention of 'host clubs'

"I mean I didn't do anything at the host clubs" Rindou said defensively trying not to further upset you at mention of it.

"What I'm trying to get at is Ran might not be the best person to babysit Renzo, and his on the verge of saying his first word. We wouldn't want to miss that" Rindou said with sigh trying to prove his point that the two of you should rather stay at home than enjoy your couples night.

"Rin, you know I'd love to spend time with Renzo, it's just it's been awhile since the two of us had alone time" you said with softening eyes.

Rindou looked at you and felt his heart shutter at the realization that all you wanted to do was spend one evening alone with him.

"You're right, the two of us do need us time" Rindou said as he placed his hands on your waist, gently placing a kiss to your cheek as he felt a smile appear on your face.

"These are the rules" Rindou said handing Ran a sheet of paper.

Ran picked up the paper with his one hand while the other was preoccupied with holding Renzo.

Ran's eyes skimmed through the rules, eyes growing big at the odd rules you had set for a child that was barely even able to say 'mama'

"No smoking in the house?" Ran said with a snicker.

"Okay if Lil Renzo over here needs a puff I'll take out him out on the balcony. Promise" Ran said with a snicker, placing the page back down on the kitchen counter.

"These rules aren't for Renzo you idiot. They're for you" Rindou said with a face palm, trying his best not to grab his infant son out of his dimwitted brothers arms.

"Don't worry Ran we trust you'll take good care of Renzo for us" you said as you tugged on your husband's arms, his face still littered with irritation and worry. Quickly pulling at him to get to the door before he changed his mind last minute, at spending the evening with you.

Ran watched as you hurriedly ushered his younger brother out the door. Waving the two of you off as he held your son in his arms, pulling the small child's arms up to mimic his waving motion.

Ran watched as his younger brother and his wife, drove off into the cool late afternoon air, while he remained behind at their house still holding their nearly two year old son.

"Well Renzo, it's just me and you" Ran said as he turned away from the door, now walking over towards the lounge area.

"Well it won't be me and you for much longer" Ran said with a devious smile, while he continued to the little boy as if he understood what his uncle said.

At the mention of others, the door bell rang not to long after that.

"Welcome to the Haitani residence" Ran said as he re-opened the door, welcoming in a smiling Kakucho and a relaxed Izana.

Ran moved out of the way allowing Izana and Kakucho to enter.

"I thought you said, it would be packed when we arrived" Izana said as he looked around the empty house.

"I said it would get packed as soon as you arrived" Ran said as he closed the door.

"I made a few calls on the way over here. The others will be here shortly" Ran said now walking over to the opened laid put kitchen, grabbing some bottles from the fridge.

Kakucho's head quickly snapped at the sound of bottles clinking.

"Are you supposed to be drinking infront of a child?" Kakucho anxiously questioned.

"It's just ciders and it says nothing on this rule list Rin gave me about drinking ciders" Ran said as he pointed over to the piece of paper lying on the table.

Kakucho picked up the piece of paper and began reading it, taking in each word.

"There's so many rules just to look after Renzo for a few hours" Kakucho commented as he put the paper back down on the table.

"Well let's get this started" Ran said he placed the ciders on the table.

Soon the cool later afternoon air quickly became the humid evening, and what was supposed to be a few bonten members became the whole of bonten at Rindou's house.

"Fuck! I lost again" Ran exclaimed loudly as he picked up the ping-pong ball that landed in his red solo cup.

"Drink up Haitani" Sanzu yelled back watching as the lilac haired man.

Ran chugged down what could of been his 10th glass for the night.

"I give up" Ran said moving away from the once island kitchen table that was now the beer pong table.

"I'll take Ran's place" Takeomi said as he now stood where Ran once did.

Ran walked over to the couch sitting in the middle of Mochi and Koko, who in the midst of dice gambling.

"I hate playing with you Koko, you keep wining"

"What can I say Mochi, I just attract money" Koko said as he picked up the dice again, readying himself to roll it again.

Ran starred as Mochi and Koko played until he was hit with the realization that he had no idea where his nephew was.

"Fuck! Where's the baby?!" Ran said quickly standing up from the couch, as he began stumbling around the house looking for Renzo.

"Has anyone seen Renzo?" Ran shouted out with slight panic in his voice.

"Relax his over here" Mikey said, as he walked over with Renzo in his arms.

"He looks doesn't he" Izana chimed in, causing Ran to examine his nephew who now dawned a pair of sunglasses and a baseball hat.

"Looks like a real Haitani now, doesn't he" Kakucho said he reached over to Mikey to take the giggling Renzo in his arms.

"We were dressing the Lil guy up" Mikey said as he pinched Renzo's cheeks.

Ran watched as Renzo giggled at Mikeys actions before Mikey walked over to the beer pong table, replacing Sanzu.

"Sanzu are you okay?" Kakucho asked as the pink haired man came stumbling into their direction.

But before Sanzu could answer a loud sound was heard as Sanzu emptied his stomach onto the wooden floors beneath them.

"Fuck!" Ran shouted loudly as Renzo clapped and laughed in amazement at the sight he was watching.

"You're such fucking idiot, fucking throwing up on the floor and my shoes. Fuck!" Ran said as he looked over at pink mullet man who was barely able to stand up.

Kakucho placed Renzo on the floor as he walked over towards the one of the kitchen cupboards looking for a mop.

Ran still with irritation painted on his face watched as Kakucho came walking back to them with mop in hand, but just before Kakucho began to mop as the gears in Rans heard began to move.

"Where's Renzo?" Ran asked Kakucho.

"I just placed him on the floor for a moment, see his right ther-" Kakucho said looking down to see the empty spot of where Renzo once stood.

"Maybe he just crawled away a bit" Kakucho said.

"I don't see the lil guy anywhere" Takeomi said as he walked over to where Ran still stood in Sanzu's release.

"Fuck!" Ran exclaimed as he began to panic.

To make matters worst Ran began to feel a phone vibrating in his pants pocket.

Quickly Ran picked up his phone.

"What!" He said abruptly but even looking at the caller ID.

"Hello to you too, Ran. I just wanted to let you know we're on our way home" Rindou said on the other end of the phone.

"Oh okay" Ran said sweetening his voice up as he quickly tried to end the call.

"Before you end the call (Y/N)-chan wants to speak to Renzo"

"The baby" Ran questioned with slight disbelief.

"Yes the baby" Rindou said irritatedly.

"Urhm okay"

Ran quickly brought the phone lowered down so that Rindou couldn't hear the whispered conversations he was having with the others.

"(Y/N) wants to speak with Renzo" Ran whispered to Izana.

"Shit, just pretend to be the baby till we find him" Izana whispered back.

"I don't know how to sound like a baby"

"Fuck we're so screwed they're going to know we lost their baby" Kakucho said with rising panic in his voice.

"We didn't lose the baby, it's somewhere in the house" Ran said clenching down on his teeth.

"Renzo~"

Ran heard your voice call out throught the phone, now causing his panicky state to worsen even further.

"Fuck, I don't know what to do" Ran said as he looked down at the phone.

"Just give the fucking phone" Koko said as he reached for Rans phone.

"Ahhh" Koko said imitating the noise of a baby.

"Hey Renzo" you exclaimed happily on the call.

"How's my Lil man, having fun with his uncle?" You asked.

"Brrrr ee ahh" Koko continued on with his baby sounds, as Ran stood back hoping and praying it was believable.

"Okay baby you sound happy. Mommy and Daddy are nearly home only 5 more minutes, love you" you said ending the call.

"We have five minutes to find that baby and clean this mess" Koko said pushing the phone into Rans chest.

"We'll clean you look for Renzo" Koko said as he began heading for the cleaning supplies.

Ran nodded in agreement, before he sped off looking in all directions for his nephew.

'How far could a baby have crawled' Ran thought as he looked into every room, searching high and low in hopes to find Renzo.

"You find him yet?" Mochi yelled, as he continued to clean the lounge area.

"Not yet" Ran yelled back, as his whole bodied was riddled with panic.

'Rindou is going to kill me for losing his son, but I mean they can make another one' Rans thought but quickly snapped out of his absurd ideas as he continued to scower for his nephew.

Ran felt defeated as he had looked in every room. Tired and hopeless he walked into Rindo and yours bedroom, hoping to find a clean pair of shoes after Sanzu had ruined his.

Just as Ran reached down to take his shoes off he felt a soft pair of hands grasp out and tug at his pants.

Ran quickly looked under the bed to find none other than Renzo fast asleep on under the bed stretching his small body.

Ran quickly picked up the young boy, exiting the room with glee.

"I found him!"

"Okay great Haitani, we're finished cleaning" Koko said not caring that Ran had found Renzo after nearly going insane at losing his brothers child.

Ran watched as everyone quickly left, leaving him and Renzo once again alone.

Just as Ran let out a sigh of relied the doorbell rang.

Ran quickly went over to the door opening it to reveal none other than Rindou and you.

"Evening Ran, sorry we took so long" you said as you entered and Rindou followed behind.

"No you guys should have fun take your time you know" Ran said as he handed Renzo over to you.

"Well the house seems to be in one piece" Rindou said as he walked about examining everything.

"You really have no faith in me" Ran said with a fake heartsore expression.

"None really" Rindou replied, causing you to laugh.

Just as you laughed Renzo woke up looking up at you with a massive smile as he began to babble with joy.

"Sounds like his about to say his first word" you said happily as Ran and Rindou walked over to where you stood, excitingly awaiting to hear if Renzo would talk or not.

You looked at Renzo with encouragement patiently awaiting him to talk until it finally happened.

Renzo opened his small mouth to let out a word neither you or Rindou expected

"Fuck!" Renzo exclaimed happily clapping and giggling.

You and Rindou quickly looked over to where Ran once stood but found the spot empty as he now stood by the door opening it.

"Well Goodnight everyone, same time next week"

.

.

.

All rights reserved to @rinrinx2

#tokyo revengers #tokyo rev smut #rindou x reader #rindou x you #rindou haitani #tokyo rev x you #tokrev rindou #bonten rindou #haitani brothers #rindou scenarios #rindou x y/n #haitani rindou #rindo x reader #rindou fanfic #rindou hcs #rindou angst #haitani rindou x y/n #haitani rindou x reader #rindou x sanzu #rindou smut #rindou haitani x y/n #rindou haitani x reader #rindou haitani smut #rindou haitani x you #haitani rindo x reader #haitani rindou smut #haitani rindo x y/n #haitani ran x reader #haitani ran imagines #ran haitani