#Be cautious Damien

[ofwondersandhares]

“ why did you help me? ” (Damien to Pesha!!)

"Ah, Damien, poor little sweet lost boy, so naïve and so innocent. I was never that way, not even when I was your age."

That was funny, hearing her say those words, considering she was not that much older than he was. She could lie to him, surely, he was already so easy to manipulate wasn't he? It was almost too easy, like taking candy from a baby.

"I helped you because we have someone in common. All I want to do is unite our kingdoms, Damien, and you are the way to do that. Aren't you happy here? Haven't you been treated well? Servants at your beck and call, all the attention from others you could ask for whenever you want, isn't that the real reason you haven't run away?" She had leaned in really close then, her fingertips lightly carding through his short hair.

"After all, your parents haven't paid you much mind, have they? Not until you ended up here. Your sibling gets everything handed to her while you get stashed away in another realm for their convenience. It really is true, Damien, you never know how much you miss something until it has been taken away."

[tiger-grace]

I feel like in Gotham there’s crime rumor mills just based on who from the batfam is on patrol and their family drama bc it greatly impacts the violence level the melee criminals will receive 😭😭

Joker Goon #1: hey we still on for the shipment tonight?

Joker Goon #2: we delayed it. Red Hood just had a fight with his dad

Joker Goon #1: ah.

Bank Teller: hey man for your own safety you might want to get out of here early

Robber: I am literally holding a gun to your head?? wdym

Bank Teller: Nightwing is PISSED tonight

Robber: what- oh. he’s rampaging isn’t he

[yandereunsolved]

Yandere Batfam pining over Bruce's reluctant darling—why are you so frightened? is it because Tim is cyberstalking you?

Yandere Batfam aren't subtle about their obsessive nature. They are already aware that you are cautious around them and have tried to leave several times, so what is the point in hiding it? Every unhealthy behavior of theirs stems from their trauma and vigilante status. They hope if they are more open about it, then you'll have more of a willingness to stay with them.

Vulnerability isn't exactly a word in any of their vocabularies.

So they are reaching out and showing you their true selves. You were going to figure it out eventually, and it would have only made you more skittish.

Come on. They aren't that bad.

Yandere Batfam just has a few unique quirks. They take away any semblance of privacy you had. Whether it be stalking in the flesh or on the internet. Both a set of cameras and eyes are always trained on you.

They see it as a way to appease both of your anxious natures. They get to know you're safe. They get to learn more about you so they can better please you. You get—them.

You never have to worry about anything ever again!

Yandere Batfam makes sure to give both you and Bruce time 'alone'. They hate that word, especially Damien. What do you mean by alone time? It's asinine. You have managed all their attention and affection poorly thus far! Giving you more time away from them all is only going to decrease your ability to love them all. Which Damien is fine with, as long as your ability to love him doesn't wane even a point of a percentage.

With that in mind, they all know you were Bruce's first. If you aren't comfortable with him, then how are you going to be comfortable with the rest of them?

So they give you that illusion of you simply dating Bruce. He works on wooing you. He tries to.

He doesn't know how to react when you suddenly shut down from his advances. When you pull away from his touch, all he can feel is hurt. A type of hurt that exceeds any he has ever felt. It's like multiple knives twisting into his heart while his soul is crying out in anguish.

He still tries. He gives you your space and little by little breaks down those walls of yours. In return, you end up doing the same with him. He doesn't even realize how much he loves you until you're absent from his presence, even if only for a mere moment.

Yandere Batfam end up learning how hard it is to share. Bruce is the head of the family, so it feels natural to allow him the largest sum of your time. However, how do they split the rest of it? How much time is too much time with you? Who goes first? (Damien insists it should be Dick and then him.)

They could always ask you, but you seem hesitant enough when just asked base-level questions about yourself.

So it's often a hot topic between all of them. If you are closer to one family member than another, the other's are instantly jealous and try to copy the tactics of that member. They'll even go as far as to abuse their power in the familial hierarchy to give themselves a disadvantage.

(Jason really doesn't give a single fuck about schedules. So you'll most likely see the most of him second to Bruce. He is mostly silent in the time he spends with you. He's just content to be in your presence, even if it is farther away than he would like.)

Yandere Batfam aren't going to strip you of your freedoms, yet. You're like a fawn just learning to walk. They can't have you running. You'll get yourself hurt. You can't protect yourself.

Bruce just wants you to love him like you did when you first met him. He's still that same man, albeit a bit more stalkerish. His family is still the same bunch of loving idiots, just more obsessive.

So please join them before their patience runs dry. If you push yourself too far away, then they suddenly won't care if you have any reluctance towards them or their methods.

[solbaby7]

This Will Do

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: jealous!az, toxic relationships, swearing, sexual themes, descriptions of physical violence and abuse, idkkk it just sucks wanting what you know you shouldn’t have :(((

previous parts [ one ] [ two ]

—

Coming here was by far your worst idea yet.

Maybe, it wasn’t even a conscious decision since it seemed like your feet were moving without being told, pushing you to a destination that your brain hadn’t been made privy to. Not until your heart was thrashing in your chest and blood was pumping so fiercely through your veins that you could hear it in your ears.

You don’t even register where you are until you���re knocking on the door, swallowing thickly when it’s ripped open not even seconds later. “Azriel,” You breathe out in relief, too frazzled to properly appreciate the half-naked body before you.

The smell hits him before his eyes even catch that you’re absolutely covered in blood, hands stained and leathers soaked through. It’s instinctual the way he snatches you to him, past the front door and into the sitting room of his personal residence. A fires going, crackling softly to the left a few feet away from a Illyrian sized sofa. Still steaming tea siting on the table before that, its wood a shade so deep you wondered if it were made from the night sky itself. “What the fuck happened? Are you hurt?” His hands sift over you, shoving aside ruined fabric until he’s examined every inch of bare skin thoroughly.

“Not really, I just—“ Your eyes slide shut when you feel him go still. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Whose blood is this?”

You say absolutely nothing. Fingers fiddling in your lap, nails biting into skin and now that the adrenaline had subsided, every second seemed to lag—the weight heavy on your shoulders.

“Stay here,” Azriel mutters into your hair before disappearing down the hall. He’s gone no less than a few minutes, returning with an outstretched hand damp from steaming bathwater. “Let’s just get you cleaned up first.”

You're too numb to fight it—to fight him when in truth, his touch was the only thing keeping you sane.

Golden eyes barely hide the extent of his worry as each layer of clothing is peeled off of you and tossed aside, every move is cautious as if you were a stray animal that would scamper off at the slightest inkling of danger. Warm water draws out the anxiety, eyes fluttering closed when Azriel ran his fingers through your hair, working up a lather with shampoo that smelled like him. “We got in a fight,” You finally confess when you feel him tense near your cheek, a finger grazing over slightly raised skin. “Damien and I.”

“About?”

“About you.”

Intrigue forces his eyes to dart down to you in surprise, not bothering to look away when he notices that yours are closed. A brief pause, a silent evaluation of the newly cleaned skin and anger laces every single word when Az catches the imprint of a hand against your cheek. The bruise of fingers around your neck and arms. “Tell me what happened.”

Your jaw clenches, face shying away the longer he stared at the marks. “I was still a little heated after leaving the sparring ring so I just went back home. Damien—he wasn’t supposed to be back so early and I got an attitude because he kept asking so many questions. Kept demanding to know whose scent was all over me.” His hands move slow, memorizing every word, every bruise, every flinch and shake of your voice. Soap suds dance along your skin, washing away blood, sweat and tears until nothing was left but you and Az. “I walked past to go to the room and he yanked me back,” The ache of your scalp throbs at the reminder of Damien’s hand curling around the length of your ponytail.

Fingers graze against the blues and purples dotting at your back. “He threw you into the wall?”

Water trickles as you adjust, the warmth soothing stiff muscles and you can feel the grit of bath salts barely resolved against your feet. You nod once, refusing to elaborate further when Azriel’s shadows begin to stalk up the length of the walls, clawing their way up his spine and over his shoulders to report further damage. “He thought I was cheating on him—said I was using training as a ruse to cover up the fact that I was really just the spymasters whore.” Years of training and dedication; growth and back breaking labor reduced to nothing more than a piece of ass. Your fingers clench into fists subconsciously, the feeling too fresh; the rage too raw and willing to return at the very reminder. The brief moment where Damien’s words made you falter—made you question and forget yourself. Disgust coils in your belly at the fear that formed when his palm connected with your cheek. “I’d never seen him so upset,” You confess, allowing Azriel’s comforting touch even if you knew deep down you shouldn’t be here. “He didn’t even look like himself anymore; he just kept shoving me into the wall over and over and over. Kept promising that if I was so interested in—“ You choke over your words, teeth gritting and eyes filling with tears. “That if I was so interested in mangled flesh then I should have some for myself to match.”

Azriel’s hands freeze at your shoulders, the sopping wash rag dripping warm water down your spine. “Did you kill him?”

You swallow audibly, glancing at the pink tinge in the tub. “I’m not sure. I hurt him pretty badly though—bad enough that he’ll have no choice to explain what he did to deserve such an injury.”

He’s rising to his full height before you can even finish speaking, drying off his hands and opening the large closet doors connected to his bathing chambers. Your eyes follow his every move, tongue tracing your bottom lip when he begins to attach holsters with freshly sharped knives sliding into place. “Where was the last place you saw him? Your apartment?”

Azriel barely reacts when you climb out of the tub; movements almost mechanical until a hand rests delicately on his shoulder. “Please don’t go,” He doesn’t want to listen, that much is obvious by the array of lines that tug their way across his handsome face but there’s no denying his body’s reaction to the plea. Shifting closer, yearning for more as he basked in the first gentle touch you’d initiated since that night. “Just stay here with me.”

Just choose me.

Just one time, please stay with me.

The tension in his muscles slowly fades the longer golden irises stare into your own, falling victim to the warmth residing there—reserved just for him. It’s instinct to pull you closer, the bare shape of you melting into his own as if it were made for him. “You don’t want this,” Every syllable burns like acid on his tongue. Still, he doesn’t step away; refusing to let you go when he’d waited too long to have you this close again—even if it was just for tonight.

“You’ve never cared what I wanted before.” Brutal and yet still the words are dripped in honey. Azriel’s grip tightens on your waist as you ease the holders from their place. “All of that changes because some asshole roughed me up?”

“He hurt you,” He states sharply, knuckles ghosting over the bruises on your arms. “No one gets to hurt what’s mine and live.”

“Except you, of course. Right?” Your eyes roll on their own accord, lips twisting into a sneer as you pull away from him; suddenly too bare and entirely too exposed. “My mother always did say the handsome ones were the most selfish.” You make a point to avoid the plethora of fresh towels provided on the counter and snatch for Azriel’s hanging on the rack instead. “I’d hoped she was wrong.”

“Well, she wasn’t,” Azriel doesn’t allow the thick towel to cover even an inch of you, ripping it free and caging you to the wall behind you. This time, when your heart races in your chest—it’s not with fear. “I am a selfish male but only with a select few things.” He’s everywhere at once, assaulting ever sense and smothering you with a panty-dropping amount of affection. His nose teases against your own, eyes sliding over the planes of your face until they catch at your mouth. “And with you,” Azriel whispers your name, thumb sliding over the plush of your bottom lip. “—with you and I am the most selfish of all. You deserve better.”

Your hands slide up his arms and over his shoulders before hooking over his neck, nails scratching at the dark hair within reach. “Then, give me better. Just for tonight.”

Azriel contemplates for half a second before shaking away logic. If this was going to be the last time then he would savor every moment; would devour every moan and whimper. He’d survive off your touch and thrive off your love; memorizing the bite of your nails on his back and your teeth claiming at the skin of his shoulder.

It feels all too familiar, entirely too natural, devastatingly comfortable when the shadowsinger cups the back of your thighs and bares the brunt of your weight with little effort. He denies any distance, a large palm splayed along the middle of your back to press every inch of bare skin against his own. His kiss is unusually soft and you can’t fight your body’s need to lean into it; to indulge in the girlish fantasy you’d crafted of the life you could’ve lived. The one where you were Azriel’s first choice, foolishly in love and desperate for a moment alone to make out or franticly fuck in shadow cloaked corners like the world was ending.

“I missed this,” The rasp in his words sends goosebumps along your skin and your bare cunt clenched around nothing when he trails kisses down the length of your neck. “I miss you.”

“I hate you,” It’s a lie, one he doesn’t call you out on but you needed to say the words before your heart took the reins and forced three entirely different words out. Bare thighs constrict like a snake at his waist, urging him closer until you could feel the hard press of his cock through his sweatpants.

A groan pulls from his chest, mouth slotting over your own as his hands explored freely. Memorizing every dip and feminine curve until the reward of such thorough examination seeped through the fabric of his sweats. “You may hate me but you want me more.” It’s filthy; the sound of your arousal hitting your ears as you grind down harder, chasing a high that cleared away the fog of life and cloaked you in pleasure. “I know you do. I can feel it every time we touch.”

You refuse to respond, digging your heels into his waistband to shove the offending material away until the warm weight of his cock springs between you. “I want this,” Azriel’s eyes follow your every move, breathing growing heavy when you lick the palm of your hand and reach down to hold him in your grasp. A whine drags from your throat when you coat him in your slick, brows pinched and mouth parted as you allow the tip of him to prod at your entrance. “Give it to me, Az.”

“It’s yours. Take it.”

Your free hand curls behind his neck, pulling him into a kiss that forces him into silence. It’s cruel; the clashing of teeth and tongue, lips swollen as Azriel’s fingers tangle themselves in your hair. He takes a step closer, intent to keep you secure against the wall but all it does is give you exactly as you’d wanted—the delicious stretch of his cock filling you up.

Your name is like a swear on his tongue, spilling free harshly as he adjusts to the feel of you, the slippery wetness of your arousal dripping down his shaft but he doesn’t move. “Please, Az?”

“Say it.”

I love you.

“I hate you.” Patience wears thin and your hips rock to satiate the need burning low in your gut. “Hate how fucking good you feel.” You rip a page from Azriel’s book and you take. Taking more than you ever allowed yourself before. He buckles into your demands, guiding your motions and watching where he begins and you end until he doesn’t care to difrenciate it anymore. You squirm under the scrutiny, a faint blush fanning across the apples of your cheeks and tips of your ears. You have to shake your head a little to slap yourself out of the stupor; nearly sinking into the love he was finally giving. “Hate me back,” You grip harder at his shoulders, chasing your release but Azriel wasn’t fucking you like he used to. “Give me what I want, Az.”

He’d replaced his rough touch and venomous bite. Instead, Az kissed every bruise, whispering sweet promises down the curve of your spine, knuckles grazing at your cheekbone as if you were the most precious flower with delicate petals. Azriel gives. Returning all the care and devotion with deliberate touches as soft praises are crooned in your ear. “I will if you say it. Just once—for me.”

Your vision goes blurry, eyes squeezing shut as your head falls back against the wall in defeat. “I want you.”

The friction you’d been itching for is finally granted and you’re too caught up up in the feel of him fucking into you to give a second thought towards your confession—not when he was finally giving you what you’d been craving. He fulfills every desire. Every want. Every need until you’re a mess of limbs and drawn out moans. You allow the marks he sucks into your neck, covering the ones done in anger. He doesn’t stop; not until your legs are shaking and your lungs were fighting for a full breath.

His forehead rests against yours, arms caging your head as he whispers ever so softly. “Please don’t go. I love you.” It takes everything to pull away. To grab your messy clothes and shove them on as quickly as possible. “I’m so sorry.”

Your hand is already on the doorknob, head bowed and heart screaming for you to stay. “I don’t forgive you.”

[thesilmarillionblog]

𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 ── Part 3

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: In the hopes that things would improve between you, you choose to lose your virginity to your friend Dean Winchester because you have been in love with him madly for a long time. However, he doesn't feel the same about you.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Warnings: Unrequited love, angst, jealousy, tension, language

Word Count: 6043

A/N: English is not my first language.

Song: 'It takes a Lot to Know a Man' by Damien Rice

While it was exhausting in some ways and occasionally involved people who were a little noisy and irate, spending an entire day at the hospital and taking care of patients felt good. It was occasionally unclear which task you had more difficulty with than the other: hunting or nursing. That being said, one of them was a little too dangerous for you.

Your thoughts raced at every word Dean said, hinting that he didn't want you to tear down your bond, as you thought back to the evening he'd spent with Jo while Sam spent his time watching TV. Though he hadn't stated it explicitly, his sharp statements with soft tones made it clear. Although you were happy that he was trying to be respectful and polite, the fact that it hurt so much made his efforts a waste.

Perhaps it would be better for you to listen Sam. Giving new people a chance and meeting them might perhaps heal whatever hurts you on the inside. But when it came down to it, you were a coward for being devoted to someone you never had and never would. Especially when you saw Dean enjoying himself with Jo there in front of your eyes, it didn't even make sense. 

As if absolutely nothing happened between you. 

It was just too much for you, yet it meant nothing to him. But because you were the one who let everything happen and didn't even inform him that you were a virgin, you had no reason to hold Dean responsible. Nothing at all. However, that was such a burden. 

You cleared your mind of thoughts and saw your colleague doing his job while you treated the small girl's hand when she reached you with her nervous mother, who was frequently repeating to her that she had warned her not to play with sharp objects. It wasn't that horrible, but you did your best to soothe her and divert her attention by carefully cleaning her hand.

You informed her mother that there were hundreds of such and even worse incidents in emergency, much like her daughter, after the sharp glass was removed from her arm. You were given the task of stitching, and you began it meticulously and with caution. Sadly, it had to be stitched. Even doing it with adults appeared to be challenging. 

She was trying her hardest not to weep when she saw the needle because she felt guilty and ashamed, but you swiftly covered it up and looked at her mother to let her know that she too needed to calm her daughter. Fortunately, she got the message. 

I was just wondering what your name is. You haven't told me yet," you inquired, trying to complete your task without drawing attention to your hands. 

“Talia,” she sobbed as she turned to face her mother as if she wanted to see if she was still angry with her.

“It's a very lovely name.” You replied, “It's good to meet you, Talia,” and gave her your name. Making sure her kid wasn't gazing at you while you were taking care of her arm, you encouraged her mother to talk to her as well. Not in an angry way, of course.

“It's not very pretty,” she said. Children typically complain about several things. 

“Why do you say that, though?”

“It sounds like 'Arya.' I was playing with Aisha when she told me that. I don't even like that name.”

If there was anything positive about kids, it was being prone to share too much. That was really beneficial for handling youngsters during an emergency, though. It would have been better, of course, if they had just been cautious and not gone through at all. It seemed to you that the other girl she was referring to was her closest friend. 

“I don't believe so. Their pronouncations are really differently,” you observed. “I has a very beautiful meaning, and it's not a very common name, which is a nice thing. Don't you think so?”

“Yes,” she said after giving it some thought. “Will it hurt?” 

“Just a little bit,” you smiled reassuringly at her. “People say my hands are really soft.”

She was unable to conceal her frightened and apprehensive look as you began stitching as her mother went on to remark about how impulsive her daughter might be at times. Additionally, you saw her continuing talking with her daughter about topics that would divert her attention. 

She inquired, “Do you have a boyfriend?” with curiosity.  She was attempting to cover up the hurt expression on her face so her mother wouldn't say anything further.

“No,” you smiled and stated. 

“Why?”

“I'm not sure.” You attempted to respond vaguely in order to get her to stop interrogating you about your nonexistent romantic life. “Adult life is difficult to comprehend when it comes to such matters.”

“Now I'm not interested in growing up. Mine is not difficult.”

You interrupted with, “Good for you,” and carefully cleaned her arm while smiling sincere at her. “It is finished. I told you that my hands were soft, right?”

You felt better as the rest of the day passed, taking care of other patients, listening to them, and doing what you could to help them. It dawned on you that becoming worn out was an effective distraction from troubling thoughts. Making yourself occupied at that moment was definitely the best thing for you because you were going to lose your mind over thinking about Dean constantly, even when you had to pee. Your body was hurting so much that you had no energy left to consider anything but resting.

You were taken aback when one of your closest friends randomly stopped by the hospital where you work right before you were about to leave. You looked him in the eye and saw that, indeed, it was him. You shivered in anticipation as you gazed at him because of the little coolness in the air. Your pulse was pounding with excitement and curiosity as you narrowed your eyes and caught him with such a focused glance that he knew you were the one gazing at him before you could.

In a tone that suggested both shock and joy, you exclaimed, “Robert?” as you approached each other. You could have recognized him sooner, a few minutes earlier, before you left the hospital.

He was your pal from college. Before you left the hospital where you both worked and joined Sam and Dean, you two were extremely close friends. With Rob, everything was simple, and he was a really nice and supportive friend; you would never deny that. But at that point, you couldn't simply bury your desire to go after the family business in addition to your own work, and it was difficult to say no to Dean. He was the one who initially convinced you. After all of your losses, you had also yearned for something different—something that could brighten you up. 

During the times you worked together, Rob was a highly professional, talented, and encouraging doctor. Even though there was a hierarchy between you at the hospital, you respected the fact that he never treated you worse than necessary or better than he should have. He was always completely aware of the lines.

But even though you've been in touch with Rob, your connection with him has been weakened since you've spent so much time with Dean and Sam. There's no denying that.

You gave him a huge, tight hug, and he chuckled, “Hey,” as if he wasn't at all shocked to see you. He knew that you were working here after all, but you didn't expect to see him anyway.

Warmly hugging him again, you said, “What are you doing here?”

He winked and added, “I was in the neighborhood,” as you drew back and gave him a suspicious look. “I wanted to see how you were doing.”

Dean attempted to divert his attention throughout the day while he fixed things and cleaned Baby. He became consumed with a sensation of rage and frustration that he just didn't comprehend. He was thinking about the past three weeks nonstop, even if nothing was wrong. Particularly the last night. 

After speaking with Jo over the phone about his intention to stop their connection and his lack of interest in pursuing a serious relationship, Dean was pleased that she accepted his request and that she wasn't interested in pursuing it further either, even though she offered him to go hunting. His and her desire to hunt were similar, but Dean didn't comprehend how different they were in fact. He was glad Jo felt the same. 

If Dean had cared a little bit more, he may have been ashamed by his obviously poor performance last night, but oddly, he didn't. He felt a lot of burden when he realized that even for a brief while, he fucked Jo thinking about you. Imagining your body under him. It wasn't fair, and he didn't even mean it. He was aware of that.

The worst thing about it was that he enjoyed it and wasn't pleased with it behaving like this. Clearly stating that one night shouldn't be enough to ruin your friendship, he shouldn't reciprocate by fantasizing about fucking you. About filling you with his—Uh. Whatever. 

All day, he tried to find a way a way to divert his attention with Baby and all things mechanical. He sometimes purposefully broke things so he could fix them again. But he also couldn't quit thinking about your most recent conversation.

It wasn't the unclear situation between him and Jo that was causing him the strain he thought it was. It didn't ease him at all to cut his links with her so quickly. He was surprised to see that you were encircling him in his thoughts, imprisoning him there. 

“You look messy,” Sam said, observing his ripped t-shirt and dirty face. 

As he bent over and looked at Sam, he said, “Thanks,” in a dismissive voice, while searching for the right tool for his car. 

“You seem to be quite busy today, aren't you?” said Sam to carefully avoid getting his shirt dirty as he gave Dean the right tool in his palm from afar. 

“You think? I guess it was a long time since I took care of Baby.”

“Yeah, for around a week. But why in the world are you behaving like a cranky old lady?”

“Sam, don't get started. I mean it.” Dean shot back immediately, suddenly becoming quite defensive. He felt like the irritation was pouring into him again, but he didn't even understand why, which was making him angrier. “I have too much to do as you see.”

“By the way, when did Jo leave? Even though I got up early, I didn't see her.”

“Yeah, she left in the middle of the night.”

Recalling the evening did not soothe his feelings, but Dean responded to Sam, stating to let the fuck him alone as soon as possible. But Sam seemed intent on playing the part of the curious bitch, as if he intended to test Dean's patience to the maximum extent possible. 

“After you two had finished, huh? She's an awesome girl, but her loudness..is definetely something else. I'm not trying to say it in a mean way, but for heaven's sake, Dean. If you two have... kinky stuff, it would be best if you spent the night at her place. I bet you two also probably made it difficult for Y/N to fall asleep.”

Dean shot a look at Sam, who was attempting to say something without coming out as weird about Jo or whatever. Sam didn't dislike Jo at all; it wasn't that he despised her. She was a little too cunning and rebellious for Dean's liking. That was a known fact. His brother was sometimes a bitch; that was true, but not that bitchy for sure. 

When Sam brought you up in the chat, Dean found it difficult to focus on his work and became disoriented while lying down beneath his car. Sam was trying very hard to get under his skin for sure.

He had become frustrated in some way by the thought that you heard him and Jo. He wasn't trying to get you to hear something or anything. Dean frowned with distaste, picturing you hearing Jo's exaggerated noises. He shouldn't have brought her home to have sex in the first place, but what is done was done. Even it wasn't right. Fuck that.

Dean attempted to lightheartedly remark, “Women have a hard time with staying silent when I'm around, huh,” in an attempt to divert Sam's attention. He attempted to change the subject at hand.

“Have you seen Y/N in the morning?”

“Why are you asking that right now?” Dean grunted and glared at Sam. He suddenly lost control of the tool he was holding and groaned in pain as it landed across his face. “God. Fuck this.”

Puzzled by Dean's odd behavior, Sam put his hands in his pockets in between his complaints. His recent behavior has been peculiar. Sam was hesitant to confront it since he thought it was likely to do with their father and other hunting experiences, but he couldn't help but wonder if he was still angry with you for what happened on the previous hunt.

Sam was appreciative of Dean for constantly watching out for him, taking care of him, and protecting him from harm—even if there were times when it made him feel like a little child. Sam knew that Dean would always be looking out for him, even if he lived fifty years old. Dean has always been overly protective, and he always will be. However, there were times he was being too much. 

“Have you?” Dean was curious and asked. Remembering your swollen eyes, he wondered if you were okay. It didn't appear like you got much sleep. 

Sam said, “Yeah,” while keeping his hands in his pockets and observing Dean's struggling with Baby. “She seemed pretty bad though.”

“Why do you say that?” Despite his best efforts to appear indifferent and normal, Dean's tone betrayed him. There was absolutely no stopping it. He was wondering if he was treating you too harshly these days. Neither Dean nor you were ever good at expressing yourself clearly.

“I'm not sure. She was quite exhausted, and her eyes appeared to be red, but I'm not sure. Her having to work and hunt at the same time must be challenging.” Sam thought you were pushing yourself a little too hard since he got to know you; however, he wasn't sure if it was just weariness or something more. He was impressed by your ambition and couldn't help but feel respect and appreciation for you.

“Maybe,” Dean interrupted, reminiscing on the way you looked the previous night. You looked so worn out, but he was too preoccupied with the talk to notice. Even though he wasn't sure whether he would believe it himself, he would prefer to pretend that you were just dizzy or sleepy. He would have said that you had sobbed uncontrollably all night, but he quickly brushed this idea from his mind as a sensation of uneasiness overcame him. “She must be tired.” 

“Did you apologize to her?”

“For what”

Sam kept rolling his eyes at Dean because he was becoming a little irritated with the way he was acting. He would claim that throughout the previous two or three weeks, something inside of him had altered. 

“For acting like a grumpy old bitch,” Sam shot back. 

Dean kept it short, refusing to elaborate on what had happened the night before. “We talked it out,” he said. “She'll start being more watchful now. By the way, is your arm okay?” 

Sam kneeled down and attempted to look into Dean's face in an effort to start a meaningful conversation, realizing that Dean was unwilling to acknowledge that his reaction was wrong. 

Sam remarked, “It's been a year since she joined us, and she's far too helpful and too kind for how you reacted there," dismissing his inquiry over his arm. Though I'm grateful for your concern, it's wrong. You need to be a little softer and gentler.”

“Do you think I don't know that?” After switching out the tool, Dean gave Sam a stern look.

“No.”

Sam grumbled in frustration, acknowledging that it would be impossible to alter Dean's perspective. “It wasn't very kind to tell someone that you have only one left to care about when they don't even have one.”

For a brief period, Dean's hands paused, and regret overcame his mind. He couldn't recall the exact moment those piercing words, as if he intended to intentionally harm you, came out of his mouth. It was never his intention to do so. Gradually, Dean's hands slowed, and he stood up, recalling that you were the only member of your family still living. For a moment, he stopped being interested in everything. 

“Now you know what you must apologize for, huh?” With a broken smile, Sam remarked. At least Dean wasn't so rigid, which relieved him. “Do you know when her shift ends?”

Dean murmured, “Yeah, I guess,” in a tone that was more controlled and calm. 

“You need to fix this; I'm serious. Give her a call, and bring her over for tonight. Having a dinner together might be a wonderful place to begin, and she'll be too exhausted anyway.”

“Don't tell me what to do.” Dean hurriedly walked by Sam, messing his hair to annoy him. He returned inside from the garage, determined not to engage in any further discourse. 

After a quick shower, Dean changed into new clothing and stood in front of the mirror, making adjustments with his hair until he was satisfied with the way he looked. He bit his lip anxiously and walked the room for a little while, considering calling you, but then decided to come get you because he knew you would be finished with work in an hour. It would be better to give you a call on the way. On the drive back home, it may be somewhat more appropriate for conversation. Driving back after so many hours at work would exhaust you too much. Besides, it was becoming late. Perhaps you might even consider eating in a restaurant.

“But why didn't you inform me about your arrival? You could have called me,” you wondered, your mouth making into a smile. It surprised you too much to see him so abruptly, even though you knew he would let you know if there was another time. 

Unexpectedly, he replied, “I actually did it on purpose.” You waited for him to continue. “I thought, surprising you about that, I'm going to work here from now on, and seeing that face of yours would be worth it.”

“Oh my god,” you said, displaying greater excitement than you had expected.

“You can't be serious.”

“I am pretty serious actually.”

When your phone began to ring, you apologized and continued to ignore Dean's calls. Rob then informed you that he had chosen to relocate after his father passed away, and you had attended his funeral around a month prior. You assumed that it must have caused some sort of trauma, but you didn't pursue the matter further since you didn't want to reopen old wounds.

You inquired excitedly, “Do you want to come over? I could make you some food so we can have an actual conversation instead of chatting under that weather. You know, it's kind of cold, and I'm sort of tired as hell,” you joked, hoping he would take you up on your offer. It has suddenly occurred to you that you have been missing your friend, an old friend you haven't fallen in love with despite knowing for years.

Dean eventually lost patience with you and, making an annoyed sound, placed his phone back in his pocket. He thought about giving you another call right after he parked and got out of his car, but if his eyes weren't playing tricks on him, you were speaking with a man. He could tell that you had ignored his calls since you were having a heated chat that briefly made him stiff. If he didn't see you giggling and even giving him a firm hug, which caused his body to tense up for a brief moment, he would say it was simply small talk.

Dean wasn't sure if being ignored was the cause of his growing ire. Since his rage had been driving him insane since the morning, he put the blame on his lack of patience. His pride was hurt by your disregard for him as well. 

With a sidelong glance at the man you were speaking with, Dean saw his rage flare up. Not feeling calm since the morning was tiring though. The man had a prideful appearance yet exuded a sense of confidence. From a distance, he could express that enough. 

His body stiffened for a moment, indicating that the conversation was... intense. So that was the reason that you ignored him for that long. 

Dean moved fast but calmly to avoid making a scene, attempting to maintain his composure despite his mind racing with thoughts. As he walked to each of you, he considered lying about his work. Maybe he would pretend to be a doctor in order to create a good impression, or he would claim to be working for the CIA or FBI in order to make dirty jokes about you and him. He would decide that soon enough.

You whispered, “Dean?” in shock as he unexpectedly appeared at your side. It was unusual for him to show up, especially considering how distant you two were in the last couple of days. He glanced in your direction, but then his gaze shifted to Robert. 

Dean glanced at you and added, “I've been calling you for some time.” It was a little judgmental, which bothered you.

Robert stared at you both bewildered, and you lied to him, “I wasn't aware,” but he didn't interject. Awkwardness suddenly filled the air. Three of you were waiting on foot as the chilly weather grew more intense. It was a really uncomfortable moment. 

As Robert extended his hand for a formal introduction, Dean said, “Can't imagine why,” while concentrating his entire attention on him. Dean talked first: “Dean Winchester.” 

Robert also introduced himself quite sweetly and kindly. He was typically really polite and mindful. You hoped Dean wasn't feeling like making uncomfortable remarks or embarrassing you in any way. He wasn't a reckless person, but when he wasn't in the mood, you just didn't know whether he knew the lines. 

Robert gave you a long stare when they finally got to meet, but he remained silent. Rather, he said, “So are you two friends or?” 

“Yeah, very close,” Dean said immediately. Robert only nodded to him. “How do you know each other?”

“Well, I'm a doctor.” Robert said, giving you a real, heartfelt smile that warmed your heart, “We've known each other for a long time and worked in the same hospital for quite a long time from my perspective since I'm always on the move. She’s a very good nurse, very talented.” When someone you looked up to complimented you, your heart skipped a beat. These days, it's difficult to find someone who values your effort.

You tensed up for a moment when Dean responded, “I know,” in a proud voice and with a sly smile. When he saw Robert smiling broadly at you, he was powerless to stop himself. Licking his lips, he added, “She has very soft hands indeed and definitely knows how to use them.”

Though Dean had no intention of making any inappropriate remarks, his patience with the man in front of him was getting thinner by the moment as he kept looking at you while he talked. Dean felt like he was getting in the mood when he observed Robert's face change. With a confused expression on his face, he seemed to be trying to figure out whether Dean meant it literally or if it was a metaphor or something.

You gave Dean a glare, but you remained silent despite your cheeks turning red from his unexpected and dirty statement. You were shocked that he chose to act this way in order to make you feel uncomfortable in front of your friend. You didn't mind when he made similar jokes when there was just you and him; nonetheless, you felt embarrassed acting in this way in front of Robert. You weren't sure of Dean's actual intentions. 

You choose to cut it off in order to release some tension. “Robb, would you like to have an actual conversation with me later, or simply come over? Of course, if you have the time.”

Dean gave you and Robert a bitter look as he realized how fast and recklessly you had welcomed a man to your house at that hour. He knew you well enough to know that you weren't someone who liked to greet guests at your place with such ease. It didn't matter how hard you tried to disguise your trust concerns; you had trust issues. You were so at ease and full of energy around that man that he wondered how close you must have been to him. Dean closed his eyes for a while, pushing the terrible pictures from his mind as he considered the scenarios involving you and him.

“Actually, I came here at that hour to visit with a different friend before spending the night with my aunt. Can we have a call for tomorrow to set up a suitable time?” Robb remarked very politely, “I guess your friend came here to pick you up,” glancing at Dean as if he required clarification from both of you.

You went to offer him a hug by saying, “Of course. I'm so glad to see you again.”

His hands massaged your back as he gave you an even closer embrace, kissing you briefly on the top of the head and telling you to take care of yourself. He promised to text you as soon as he had some spare time.

Dean gazed at you and him confused as he saw you two embrace like lovers who had met years later. He questioned whether the man's irritating conduct was intended for annoying him. He was curious as to how and when you two first connected, as well as why, given that you spent the entire year with Sam and him, you would still be so close to someone a year later. Although Dean was aware that you remained in contact with your pals, he was unaware of how close you were to one of them.

Dean was ready to say something, but he instantly changed his mind and was waiting for you to end the hug. He kind of wanted to break Robert's face and hands when he touched your back. Dean wondered when he'd felt you give him such a yearning hug. Most likely never. Considering all the times he had saved your ass, you were ungrateful. Later, he would speak about this. 

Dean turned to face you shortly after Robb departed and said, “I've called you many times.”

You apologized as he gave you a strange look. You had no idea why you sounded so aloof and cold. “I haven't seen him in a very long time. He's one of my closest friends.”

You questioned, “Why are you here?” before he continued.”Has anything happened?”

“Not at all. I arrived here to pick you up.”

“But my car-”

“I will drive you to work tomorrow, alright?” Dean watched as you began to tremble in the chilly weather. As Sam mentioned, you looked pretty tired. 

Dean felt his heart melt and sigh as he saw you shiver from the cold and appear exhausted. Even though he didn't mean to come across as so crude and distant, there was still an uneasiness between you that seemed impossible to get past.

“Fine.”

You continued to shake as you got in the car. You knew you were starving yourself to death when you heard the loud sound coming from your stomach. You had hardly had time for an adequate meal because you were so busy with work.

“You need to have dressed properly.” Dean softly remarked, “It's cold outside these days,” observing your attempts to sooth yourself by lightly massaging your bare arms.

You said in a whisper, “Yeah,” while Dean pressed a button to warm the car up. 

Your muscles gradually relaxed, and you began to feel much better as Dean drove. He turned his head to face you, giving you a little, pleased look after he heard your little satisfied sound. He liked it so much. “Relaxed now?”

Giving a quick nod to him, you muttered with a hint of gratitude in your voice. “Uhm, yes. Thanks.” 

Dean said, “So,” his gaze glued to the dimly illuminated road. “How long are you friends? You and him. You appeared to be really at ease with that guy.” 

“I think for four or five years. I find him to be a really caring and compassionate friend. I hadn't seen him in a very long time, so it was a surprise to see him, as he didn't give me a call in the first place.”

You were taken aback by Dean's attempts to have a polite, regular discussion with you. Your pulse beat with excitement and anticipation since it had been a long time since you had spoken to him in that way. All you wanted was for things to be normal between you two again. You might get by with less and normal if you are unable to have more. 

Prior to Dean addressing Robert and your friendship, you said, “Baby looks and smells amazing today. Have you just given her a wash?”

“She's a good girl all the time,” he remarked, chuckling. His hands around the steering wheel were more tightly now. “She needed to be clean and nice.”

You eagerly questioned, “Why did you come, by the way?” as the minutes ticked by in quiet. You wanted to make it seem like nothing occurred between you as well, and now it looked like a good moment to sort out things between you and him. 

“I decided to pick you up to avoid an accident after Sam warned me that you looked terrible. Are you hungry?” Dean wouldn't say 'no' to a pie right now.

“Actually, I'm starving,” you answered, sidestepping the comment Dean made regarding your appearance. You bet you did. 

“Alright.” Dean glanced at you and said, “I know a good restaurant,” in a rough voice, clearing his throat. 

Stating, “To be honest, I'm exhausted.” in a sorry tone, you waited for him to offer something else. You instantaneously forced the never-to-come-true visions away from your thoughts, even though you really wanted to go on a date with him. It wouldn't be a date, but it would be a nice moment. However, it would only get your situation worse.

“You wasted the opportunity. After that, you're going to eat anything Sammy orders.”

You smiled and responded, “I'm okay with that,” but you couldn't help but worr if Jo was still there.

Your face sank unintentionally, remembering the noises she'd made with Dean last night and how he'd been distant when you two chatted. You didn't want Dean and Jo's relationship to fail if it would harm Dean in any way, but you were unable to give up and were hoping that she wouldn't be around for tonight at the very least. Undoubtedly, your body was worn out, but your heart was spent beyond comprehension. 

Dean occasionally glanced at you, and thoughts of you and Robert were constantly racing through his head. He was thinking a lot of things at once—things that would make him see red, things that would make him angry, and things that would make Dean want to punch Robert in the face. 

“Have you slept with him?” unexpectedly Dean asked in a stern voice that made you stiffen in hurt and disgust.

Though he didn't want to sound so harsh and judgmental, Dean couldn't resist posing the question. He had to know the answer, even if he had no idea why.

You said, “What?” your heart thumping with pain. You never wanted to tell Dean that he was your one and only and how much you gave of yourself to him that night. “How could you ask such a question?”

Dean said, “It's a simple question,” as if he were defending himself. His attitude altered upon witnessing your expression transform to one of disappointment and rage. He wasn't sure if it was really necessary to get the answer. “Did you get fucked by him?”

You responded angrily, “He's my friend,” yet both of you stiffened at the words. Your body was filled with shame, and your heart ached from the burden. All you needed was Dean making no mention of wanting to cause you more damage. Wasn't it enough?

He said, “I am your friend too,” which made you tense up in your seat. “But things happen.”

You told him sternly, “You're being too much,” while doing your best not to seem pathetic or reveal how upset you were. “I can't believe you.” 

“Why are you not answering the question?” Again, he lost his temper. Dean noticed that his tolerance was wearing thin and that the pictures that were filling his mind were not helping the situation. He was aware that he shouldn't have said those things, but whatever. Fuck that. He wanted to know. He needed to know.

You snapped, “Of course not, Dean!” as a wave of rage overcame you. You wished he would have remained silent the entire way. Both of you should have stayed quiet.

Dean fought himself not to exhale in relief as a sensation of ease exploded in his heart. He didn't understand the significance of your connection with Robert or if it mattered if he really fucked you. However, the very idea was plenty to irritate him. You deserved better than this haughty, dumb man. It was such a simple question. That was it.

You didn't ask Dean whether he loved wounding your heart these days or why he was acting like an asshole. It pained your heart to see his suspicious look, even if you had no intention of telling him that he was your first to not ruin whatever you had from the beginning. If you told him the truth, you weren't sure how he would react. But knowing that he was still distant from you, you were unable to find the trust that you needed. You had no idea how he would react.

You said, “I want to go home,” in an icy tone, though you didn't actually mean it. You desired more time to be with him. It hurt so much to not be around him. Your eyes welled with tears, but you forced them back as your need for him reminded you of how pathetic you truly were to him.

He had an innate ability of ruining a nice moment just when you thought everything was going well. You realized that in order to stop him from hurting you, you needed to find a method to physically separate from him rather than cling to him. If nothing else, perhaps you could convey to him the meaning of his behavior and how easily his sharp words hurt you. Maybe someday.

“We're already-”

But you soon interrupted, saying, “My home.”

When he proposed that you have dinner at a restaurant, you should have accepted. Maybe you would chat about things that could break the ice between you, or even better, maybe you would find a way to bring up the young girl you took care of and her thoughts about love. Maybe he would act a little differently, acting more kind and cheerful rather than staring at you with rage. If only you had known which way to go to win him over, so much may have been different.

Next Chapter

⋆⋅☆⋆☆⋅⋆───⛥───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───⛥───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───⛥───⋆⋅☆⋆☆⋅⋆

A/N: Please, let me know what you think about this one. I hope you like it. Comments and reblogs are very appreciated! They keep me going. ^^

Taglist: @procrastination20 @faiirynyaa @deangirl96 @steelthespooder @t1asstuff @slut-for-evans-stan @esposamultifandom @rebecca-hvnstn @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @sammyxorae @filmologetica @n-o-p-e-never @stoneyggirl2 @hhiggs @neptua @yuckqr @steelthespooder @jaredpadonlyyyy @jeysbae @robynn9436-blog @x3zerochanx3

@midnightpearlaurora @zaratahir @opheliadynah @mango-munchies @spxideyver @chirazsstuff @anyisaravia2001

[lowkeycasanova]

have a baby by me

trafalgar law x f!reader

Plot: Law wants to have another baby

warnings: smut, breeding kink (18+)

*pic isn't mine. all creds to the original owner, whoever you are*

You blink open your eyes, realizing you’re in Law’s arms and his lips softly pressed to the skin on your shoulder. His leg is in between yours and you can feel his morning wood against your backside but that’ll be dealt with later.

Gently escaping his grasp, you slide off the bed and into the bathroom. Law should be waking up soon now. He usually wakes up minutes after you leave his arms.

You close the bathroom door, enveloping the quiet solitude of the morning. The soft glow of dawn peeks its way through the window casting a warm hue on the tiles as you make your way to the sink.

Before turning on the water, you pause. You senses heightened. You listen out for Damien in the fact that he might be awake. Usually you hear the pattering of his feet against the floor, or maybe he's playing with his toys and talking to himself. At least he sleeps through the night.

It's around his second birthday now and your mind drifts back to when you found out you were pregnant with him.

When your breasts started becoming tender, Law spectulated that you might be pregnant. You brushed him off because he came off as unserious. Also because you two weren't trying. Sure, you talked about it and you were both for having children, but it wasn't planned.

With him being a doctor, he started getting nervous when you started getting heartburn and when you finally began vomiting all the time, he went out and bought too many pregnacy tests and made you drink water until your stomach hurt.

Fast forward nine months after that, nothing woke him up faster when you went into labor that night. You were irritable and in pain for twelve hours. Thirty minutes into the second stage of labor, your son was born. He was born with a full head of dark hair and bright yellow eyes, just like father.

You named him Damien, he was the kind of baby that was constantly on the move. If he wasn't sleeping, he was exploring his surroundings.

He's a good kid. Sure, there are times where he throws his tantrums. He is a toddler after all and it's just his way of asserting his independence. However, there are times when he will patiently wait for his food and play quietly whenever Law took him to his office and worked.

And the rest of the crew were always down to help. Bepo, Penguin, and Shachi loved him. They were the only ones that could make Damien laugh as hard as he did. His face becomes red and he lets out this loud, yet infectiousbelly laugh.

Damien plays with them a lot.

As you finish up your morning routine, you hear that telltale morning groan. A smile comes across your face as you peek back into the bedroom, watching as Law slowly sits up, rubbing his eyes.

"Mhmm, good morning." he says in that deep, raspy voice that makes you want to jump on him. "Is Damien up yet?"

"Don't think so. But thank God he's not wailing in the middle of the night anymore."

"I kinda miss that."

You raise an eyebrow. "Really?"

Law shrugs. "It's just a reminder that he's getting older."

He reaches out his hand to you and you immediately walk over and grab it, letting him pull you back in bed. You sit against the pillows and he lays down on his side, his arms wrapping around your waist.

He lets out a sigh, trailing a fingertip along your arm as if he wanted your attention but didn't wanna ask for it.

"Do you need something?" you joke.

He rests his chin on your shoulder and looks up at you with a mischevous gaze in his eye.

"Do you want another baby?"

You tensed up and his inquiry hung in the air. Finally meeting his gaze, he continues to trace your arm and maintains eye contact. He's cautious though, hoping he didn't overstep a line by asking.

The weight of the question settling in you. Of course you wanted another kid. The joys that came with parenthood were undeniable, but it was also a lot of responsibility.

"It's something to think about, isn't it." you say with a soft smile, breaking the silence.

He grins and moves his hand from your arm to under your shirt, kneading the soft skin. "Let's have sex."

You chuckle in amusement. "Kids are a lot of work." you tell him and hug your arms around your waist, inadvertently pushing his out the way.

Law knows you too well. Your subtle action manifested because you still weren't in love with your body yet. He uses his palm to lift himself up and give you a kiss on the cheek. A sign to remind you that he still found you beautiful.

"Law," you begin in a soft voice. "I don't know." You don't tell him why- because he has the responsibility of being a captain to his crew and you would need all the help you can get raising the kids- but he knows.

"No, no, listen," he says and turns all of his attention to you. "I want to take a break from being out on the water. I've already talked it over with the crew. Traveling around like this, it's not safe for him." He pauses, squinting slightly. "I want our son to have a stable environment, go to school, make friends. I want him to have siblings to grow up with. We'll go back out to sea eventually, but for now, I want to live a different kind of life."

You studied his face, seeing the sincerity in his eyes and the love he held for his family. Also, deep down, you think it's because he envisions his kids to have the life that he experienced, before it was taken from him.

You gently caress his lip with your fingertips and he puckers them, giving them a quick kiss.

"You really mean that, don't you?"

He nods.

You look up at the ceiling and slowly exhale. You have been wanting to discuss another baby but that would be coupled with the asking him to take a break from his work. But he's willing to do ut for you already. A smirk flashes across your face and you lean in to give him a kiss. "Let's have a baby then."

You don't need to tell him twice.

He maneuvers his body to face you, the lower half of your bodies still concealed by the sheets, and pulling you in for a searing kiss, tongues moving slowly with each other. You reach up and grab his hair to tug on it, just enough how he likes it. Feeling his hands on your waist, it's easy to lose track of time. But Damien's room is down the hall and he will be up any minute now.

While he's kissing you, he reaches down and pushes the fabric covering up your pussy to the side so he can use his hand to rub on the slick that's gathering in between your folds. His hand then sldies to the top of your underwear, fumbling with the fabric.

"Law don't-"

Too late. He's ripped them off before you can finish your thought, balled it in his fist and tossed them to the side.

"Sorry." he mumbles so casually before leaning back down to kiss you again. But you know he's not. He does this often.

His two middle fingers push themselves inside you, hitting that spot that you need. You lean in to press yourself into his neck to kiss him there. Mainly to keep your voice down.

"I'll buy you some more." he hums.

"You know," you say in a voice that's barely above a breath. "They're pretty good quality, and the fact that you can rip them off like that is pretty impressive."

His eyes darken with lust as your comment pratically fuels his ego.

"God." he mutters.

He moves to lay on his back, impatiently shuffling off the sheets as an invitation for you to straddle him. You accept it as you move one leg over his, reaching down to grab his cock to align it with your dripping pussy. You're wet enough so it doesn't take much effort to sink down on him. You love how he fills you up whole. You lean in to kiss him and he meets you halfway in an attempt to silence your moans, pulling away once your fully down on him.

He laughs halfheartedly when you give him a smile and you move your hips to try to adjust to him. His hands knead your ass and eyes squeeze shut as you pull up off him then slide back down. Since having a kid, you two haven't been having sex as often, but that doesn't matter. You'll always have to adjust to him.

"Mmph fuck me."

You bury your face into his neck again as you ride him, his hands helpng you out at a steady pace. The sounds of skin slapping fills the room along with your occasional whines and his occasional grunts as he thrusts into you. Your nails dig into his shoulders, surely to leave crescent marks behind. But you don't care and neither does he.

"You know what?" he says in a low voice. Your ear is right next to his mouth, so you have no choice but to listen. "I'm gonna fucking fill you up. Fill you up to the brim with my cum and force you to take all of it."

His words cause you to clench around him.

"Fuck, and then- mmph fuck- then I'm gonna do it again. I'm gonna fuck you again. I'm gonna fucking get you pregnant and watch you swell with my baby."

He palms your clit with just enough pressure to make you squirm, a hand still on your leg to encourage you to keep rocking your hips against him. You're overstimulated now. You clench and unclench and you finally reach your high.

"That's a good girl." he coaxes. "Now tell me how much you want my baby."

Your legs are exhausted from riding him for so long. At this point, all you want it for his to release inside you. "Please," your voice is desperate. "Want you to cum inside me. F-fill me up and get me pregnant."

In that second, he flips you over so you're on your back. Interlocking his fingers with yours and holding them above your head. He's thrusting into you so hard that the headboard is striking the wall. He grabs it to try to keep it stable. But all other ways to try to be quiet? Forget about it. Your hands aimlessly roam his back and he's groaning and his movements quivering.

"Oh my-fuck." He groans, slamming his hips into yours and you can feel him erupt. His head dips down into your neck as he releases, keeping his whole shaft inside, as deep as he can, and his tip as close to your cervix as possible. "Take it all, babygirl."

He pulls out and flops right down in front of you to where he's putting his weight on his bent knees. You're so tired, you can't even muster the energy to get up. So you lay there, still on your back with your legs open right where he can see.

You're a little embarrased that he's looking at you with that amazed expression. However, you begin to feel his cum seep out, so you take a hold of his cock and use the tip to sweep it back and deposit the white fluid back in.

Looking back up at him, he's left with his mouth agape.

"That...you...I..."

He's so astonished at your action, he can't even speak.

"You're so sexy."

He leans in with the intent of kissing you, but is interrupted by pattering against the floor on the other side of the door.

"Mama!"

You cover your face with the palm of your hand. Law quickly gets off of you and scrambles to put his pants on. "I got him. You stay right there."

[waterfall-ambience]

also he spends way too long doing this when using the inoculation loop for aseptic technique

yes i think avery's too normal so he has to be a bit of a freak (affectionate) about something and have a beige flag. that flag is that he's a little too enthusiastic about using sharp objects. he enjoys cooking, dissections, sword fights, and taking leaf explants for plant organogenesis.

[xmalereader]

Bruce Wayne X Male Reader

-

|| Masterlist ||

-

Authors Note: The requests are finally coming in! I enjoyed writing this one out and tried my best to add as much demon facts as I could make up or find. I made sure that Bruce became a softie and tried to make readers and Bruce’s relationship sound special or romantic-ish? But either way. I hope you like it!

Request: I would like it to be by Bruce Wayne (the version you want) x male reader, where the reader is Bruce's boyfriend or fiancé but hides that he is a vampire or demon and that every night he goes out to consume blood or souls (if he is a demon) but that he only hurts criminals, and that during a patrol he meets batman (and if you want also one of the robins) and that they fight, but that during the fight the reader was seriously injured and that there bruce realizes that it is about her boyfriend/fiancé. || @apolo1808 ||

Warnings: Fluff, slight hints of angst, mentions of the bat family, language, Bruce is a softie, demon biology facts, chaotic friendships, mentions of marriage, Damien loves reader, platonic friendships.

Word count: 3.1K

—

—

He was suppose to be in hiding, away from society and blending in with them instead of taking over them. He’s had family who were just like him, seeking havoc upon humans and torturing them for their pleasure. Not many of them were able to live with humans and found different ways to survive while others died off slowly due to the lack of souls that they consumed.

Y/n had been one of the few to survive, turning their hunger towards humans who, he thought, didn’t deserve a second chance after going after innocent people and getting them hurt. He’d only feed on criminals who lurked the dark streets of Gotham, brining fear into their eyes as they grew cautious of roaming the streets at night. Many would think that they fear the night due to Batman when in reality they feared the demon who lurked the streets, ready to strike anyone who crossed his path.

Y/n didn’t spend much time in the streets, learning how to survive on small amounts of souls and continuing on with his daily life with no issues. Their were nights that he felt guilty about keeping it hidden from his fiancé and family, afraid of what they would think of him if they were to know what he is. He was always waiting for the right time to tell Bruce about his abilities, but the right time went on for years to the point where he fell engaged to the great Bruce Wayne. He’d sometimes stare at the ring on his finger, feeling the guilt take over him as he continued to hesitate on telling Bruce the truth, knowing that the longer he drags this out the outcome could be worse.

He’d spent hours trying to figure out how to tell Bruce, not knowing how he’d react when he founds out that the man he wants to spend the rest of his life with is a demon who eats the souls of criminals. He’s known about Bruce’s identity of being Batman along with his kids too, which he didn’t mind. He knew that they were always safe and would come back home to him. But, the fact that his own future husband is Batman only made the situation even more complicated and continued to hold back on telling him anything.

During his own night routine he’d make sure to keep his face hidden, usually wearing all black in order to blend into the darkness as he hunted down criminals. He wanted to make sure that he wasn’t caught by any members of his family and so far he’s been smart enough not to get caught. He’d given himself a reputation that he was not proud of. Upon entering the cave he spots Bruce by his computer typing away while the rest of the boys did their own thing on the side. It took Y/n some time to warm up to the boys, when he first started dating Bruce he was nervous to know if they would like him not. He had gotten Dick’s and Jason’s approval in less than a few days, the two liking him at an instant.

Tim only took time since the poor kid was always busy with helping Bruce along with balancing his own schedule. He’d been around to force Tim to eat something healthy and drink anything else besides coffee to the point where he hid the coffee maker from Tim and told Alfred to keep him from leaving the house and buying any coffee. His relationship with Tim grew with the time they spent together, the two working together at Wayne enterprise.

The bond he struggled with the most was with Damien. He knew about his background and where he came from and for Bruce to openly accept his son into their home meant a lot to him. Their relationship was rocky at first as Damien ignored Y/n’s attempts at getting along with him. There were times where Damien would snap at him because he was ‘trying’ too hard or that he shouldn’t force a relationship.

Y/n didn’t give up. He continued to approach Damien even if the young kid grew annoyed he was always going to be there. Some could say that Y/n was often present in Damien’s life than Bruce, not that he was a bad father. Bruce was a wonderful man but he had his own flaws. It took months before Damien finally claimed him as family, growing protective over Bruce’s partner and always joining the man on errands. Everyone know that their bond was stronger than the others, but Y/n still loved everyone equally.

Which is why he struggled in the last few days with saying anything about his abilities. Pushing back on them as he provided fake smiles and reassurance. Spending his night hiding in alleyways as he waited for his prey, keeping himself hidden in the dark. He was doing fine for a few days without consuming souls, acting normal and doing his daily routine until he felt an emptiness in his stomach.

The sudden hunger was reaching its peak to the point where he’d have to head out and find a few souls he could consume in order to live for the next few days. He had planned to escape the manor tonight but, his plans were quickly cancelled by Bruce taking him and the kids to watch a movie together. Y/n had brushed off the hunger and joined his family.

He brushed the hunger away longer than a few days, going over his limit. His side affects were showing and it was becoming harder to hide each day: First, his throat felt dry. No amount of water could wash it away, next was his fatigue. He was growing tired to the point where he’d zone out during mid conversation whenever he spoke to Bruce or one of the boys. His third were his eyes, no longer their natural color but turning completely black. Once he reached that last phase he knew that he had to go search for a few souls he can consume.

Y/n spent his day packing up a small bag, clothes being shoved inside as he wore sunglasses indoors. It wasn’t until Bruce passed by their room, looking inside to see him packing his things. “Where you going?” Bruce asks while Y/n looks up and smiles. “I’m staying over at Susan’s place.”

Bruce paled, swallowing nervously as he steps inside the room. Bruce knew that whenever Y/n stayed at Susan’s it was because he did something wrong or wanted time away from his family. “Did I do something?” He asks nervously, watching his fiancé zip up his bag. Y/n tilts his head in confusion until realization hit him. “Oh! No, It’s nothing like that.” He approached him. “Susan has this friend who’s getting married and she was chosen as the maid of honor and was placed in charge of a few things. I’m going over to stay with her and help her out with organize everything since she’s terrible.” He chuckled out. “It’ll just be for tonight.”

Bruce sighs in relief, afraid that he’d done something wrong to upset him. “Sorry, I thought I did something due to being busy constantly.”

“It’s alright everything is fine, Bruce. I’m just gonna help Susan.” He takes his bag in hand and sighs softly, leaning forward to press his lips against his cheek before pulling away. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” He gives Bruce a small wave and leaves the bedroom, rushing down the hall and eager to leave the manor. His statement wasn’t a total lie, his friend Susan of a few years did need his help and he needed hers. He only had a few hours before night fall, giving him enough time to ride his own motorcycle to Susan’s place, her apartments located deeper into Gotham as he rode his way down the busy streets.

Upon arriving to Susan’s apartment he’s able to park his motorcycle inside the garage, collecting his bag and quickly rushing inside. He dodged neighbors using the stairs, giving them an apologetic smile before skipping steps as he runs to the fourth floor. He gives Susan’s apartment door a few knocks until she swings the door open, her hair all messy while she wore her reading glasses. “Thank god!” She threw her arms around him and pulled him into a bone crushing hug. “I’m gonna die.” She mumbled out.

“What—why?”

She whines. “I can’t do this wedding stuff, it’s too much work and I don’t even have a dress yet!”

Y/n rolls his eyes and gentle carried her inside, kicking the door closed behind him and sets her down. “Susan, you were picked to do this because your friend knew you could do it.”

“Not this kind of wedding!” Susan throws her arms up, turning around and walking to her living room. “This is some fancy shit.” She looks up from her work, glaring at him from under her glasses. “You’re isn’t going to be this big and chaotic is it?”

Y/n shrugs. “I told Bruce that I didn’t want anything too big. A simple ceremony, probably private.” He sets his bag down, joining her by the coffee table and sitting across from her. “Yeah, we’ll it better not or else I’m not going.” She began to gather all of her things, stacking up papers and setting them aside in order to give each other some space to down their own work. While she cleaned, Y/n had slowly removed his sunglasses revealing his black eyes.

Susan’s hand froze, eyes wide as she takes notice of his eyes. “Shit, When was the last time you ate?”

“Three weeks ago…” He mumbled.

“Three weeks?!” She shouts, causing him to flinch. “I told you the minimum of not eating is four days not three weeks! You can get yourself killed or let alone hurt.” She stood up from her spot on the floor, walking around the room angrily while also giving him a lecture. Susan had been friends with Y/n for years, knowing about his abilities and helping him with collecting souls. She was his main guide and the only person he trusted with his dark secret.

Y/n watched her as she takes out a small box from her book case, setting it down on the coffee table and sitting back down. “Can’t believe you’d do this—do you know how dangerous this is? You can die!” She groans, flipping the box open and taking out a few pictures with post it notes attached to them. “You’re lucky I found a few guys for you.” The photos contained images of criminals that roamed the streets freely; allowed to do anything.

Susan had easy access to these criminals due to her working as Gordon's assistant. She had access to many criminals files and knew who walked freely and their criminal records. She kept a collection of the criminals, later providing them to Y/n as his next targets. “Here.” She slips him five pictures.

“Five? It’s usually three.”

“Three if your on track, five since you went over a few days.” She glared, closing the box in her hand setting it aside. “These five are close to the area, take your time on consuming the souls and try not to get caught.” Y/n shakes his head. “I won’t.” He slips the pictures in his pocket and gives her a small smile. “Do you have my outfit?” He asks in a soft tone, trying to lighten up her mood but continued to glare, eyes narrowed at the demon before her.

“Yes.” She points to her bedroom behind her. “It’s in my closet, furthest in the back you’ll find it.”

Y/n scrambled to a stand and rushed to her bedroom where he collects his outfit that he used at night. All black along with a face mask that covered his face. It helped him stay hidden and was easy to move around whenever he was running or having to climb over things. He’d look out the window and see the sun setting, signaling that it was time for him to feed as he changed into his outfit, tying his boots and slipping on the mask. Once stepping out of Susan’s bedroom he smiles under his mask.

“Now remember,” Susan started. “Don’t get caught and if you do—you know nothing about me.”

Y/n chuckles. “I know.”

“Go kill someone.” She sighs out, earning an eye roll as he takes her balcony, climbing up the rooftops, giving him enough space and access to see his surroundings. He’s running on the roofs and jumping over them, checking the alleyways and empty streets for any signs of his targets. He’d check the post it notes every once an while, giving him an idea of where they could be located or doing at late hours. It only took him thirty minutes to find his first target, launching himself on the man and pinning him on the ground while he thrashed and shouted.

He’s quick on his work, usually keeping it clean but today he was starving and didn’t care about the mess he caused. After watching the life die from the man’s eyes he’s quick to throw the limp body aside, licking his lips under his mask and moving onto his next target. His strength was slowing coming back after he consumed soul after soul, chasing after his prey as he watched then beg for mercy, knowing damn well that they didn’t deserve it after what they did.

Y/n was down to his last soul of the night, holding the picture on hand as he reads Susan’s notes, standing over the edge of a roof before sighing deeply and slipping the picture in his pocket. “One more and then we can go gone.” He whispers to himself, preparing himself to jump off the building only to be pulled away from the edge by the collar of his shirt.

“What—!”

He falls back on his back and groans in pain, looking up to see Nightwing. His eyes widen in realization as he watched him. “You trying to mill yourself or what?” Dick turns to look at him only for his own eyes to widen. “Wait, you’re that killer that everyone talks about.” He points a finger at him, causing Y/n to shrink in shame. Before he could reason with him or say anything he’s startled by Jason who stood behind him. His back bumping against his chest and turns around to face his masked helmet.

“This the one that’s been killing people?” Jason questions, giving small steps forward while Y/n took a step back. He’s corned by the two, swallowing nervously as he adverts his eyes away from the two. “Think B will want to do something?” Said Jason, placing a hand on his hip and cocking his head to the side. “We should probably let him know.”

Y/n’s eyes widen at the mention of Bruce. He couldn’t let him know, not like this. Without thinking he reacts quickly, shoving between the two as he makes a run for it. He can hear the two shouting and running after him while he makes his way around the roofs, jumping onto the next building and stumbling in his step. With the last four souls he consumed he feels fueled up and has the strength to run and perhaps fight back if it comes to that conclusion. He can hear their footsteps behind him, taking a sharp turn towards another building and quickly taking cover behind a wall.

He remains quiet and listens as the boys run past him, shouting at each other that they couldn’t see him anymore and had lost sight of him. Y/n moves quietly and glanced towards the direction they ran off too, sighing in relief and turning the other way to head back to Susan’s place only to yelp in pain when a sharp pain is felt on his arm. His hand goes over the open wound and faces Damien.

His little Robin staring at him with narrowed eyes as he holds his katana in both hands. “I wouldn’t try to run if I were you.” He warns, voice full of venom. “I saw what you did to those men—now, what the hell are you?” He raised his sword, watching closely as Y/n clutched his arm close, wincing from the pain. “I—“ His throat is dry, licking his lips under his mask and watching Damien.

“Talk!” Damien shouts the tip of his sword pointed at him as he steps closer, causing Y/n to shift backwards. Damien takes his movement as a sign of ‘running away’ making him swing his sword at him. Y/n is quick on his feet and dodges the blade, cursing under his breath and wincing at the pain before mumbling a small apology to Damian. He swings his leg at Damien, hitting the kid in the ribs and causing him to stumble back. That only angered him. Y/n doesn’t wish to hurt Damien nor does he want to cause him any harm but his simple kick only riled the kid up.

“Shit.”

Damien runs at him.

Y/n doesn’t think, reaching for his mask and yanking it off. “It’s me! It’s me! Stop!” Damien halts the tip of his katana pressing up against his throat, not hard enough to cut him. Upon revealing his face he takes notice of Damiens posture stiffen. “Y/n?” The realization hitting him as he lowers his sword.

“That’s enough.”

Bruce’s voice startles the two, Damien turning around to face his father. “Da—Batman I didn’t—“

“I know.” Bruce reassured him, placing a hand on his shoulder, giving him a soft look before his eyes avert to Y/n who stood a few feet away from him. His hand still covering his injury, face covered in sweat and his hair sticking to his forehead. He didn’t know what to say or do now that Bruce knew and instead decided to wait until he made the first move. Bruce steps forward, approaching Y/n as his anxiety heightens and lowers his head in shame.

“I can explain.” He’s quick to say, expecting Bruce to integrate him like he did to all of the criminals that he dealt with each night. Instead, the man wraps his arms around him and pulls him close into a tight embrace, startling and confusing Y/n. “Bruce?” He whispers against his neck.

“Your injured, let’s talk back at home.” Is all he says before he’s picking him up bridal style and taking him with him. He’s shocked by the situation and looks over his shoulder to see his boys watching in disbelief and shock. He can see the look of anguish on Damien’s face, frowning to himself and he looks away from his boys. The trip back to the cave is quiet between him and Bruce the tension growing as they got closer to home. Y/n stared out the window from the Batmobile the whole way back until they arrived.

He clears his throat nervously and stumbled out, grunting in pain from the bruises and injury that he’d gotten from Damien. He tries his best to ignore but, Bruce takes notice of it and calls out to him. “You’re injured.”

“I’ll manage.” Y/n gives off a small chuckle, waving it off but Bruce doesn’t fall for it. He drags him to the nearest medical table and forced him to sit down, removing his cowl and gloves and searches for the medical kit. “Shirt. Take it off.” Bruce orders his back facing Y/n as he gives off a small nod, sighing to himself and trying his best to slip off the shirt before Bruce turned back around to focus on his injured arm. He’s quiet when stitching him up, focused on his task. It doesn’t take long for Y/n to cut the tension between them. “I’m guessing you want that ring back?” He mumbled out softly, giving Bruce a glance.

Bruce stood mid stitch, raising a brow at him and asks. “Why?”

“Why? I mean, you all saw what I did—what I do and I figured you would be islet and probably want the engagement ring back.” Y/n nervously fiddled with the discarded shirt that lied by his side, trying to keep his focus on something else. “I saw what you did, but you haven’t explained to me why.” Bruce suddenly says, finishing up the stitches and wrapping his arm.

Bruce turns to him and sighs to himself, reaching up to get his attention by turning his head towards him by the chin, fingers gripping his jaw softly. “I want the truth.” His voice is stern.

Y/n sighs. “Okay.” He whispers. “I was consuming souls. Souls that I need in order to survive and to keep myself healthy or else I can lose control of my hunger.” He began to explain. “I’m a Demon. One that he’s lived for many years, I’ve seen things that no one else has and have met many different people throughout my life. I just didn’t expect myself to settle down.” Sadness and regret fill his eyes, gently brushing Bruce’s hand away from his jaw. “I wanted to tell you but I was afraid of how you’d react and what you would do if you saw me doing that.” He refers to the soul eating.

“I didn’t want to make you or the kids and—“ his breath hitched, eyes growing wet as he tries to hold back to tears that threaten to spill. “I’m sorry, I should have told you before things got serious between us.”

“You were trying to survive.” Bruce’s voice is soft. “You know I don’t agree with what you did but, I can’t stop you from trying to live. It’s the way you can continue living with us, with me.” His fingers brush up against his cheek, leaning down to press their foreheads together. “I’d still marry you whether you’re a demon or not.” Y/n sniffles, leaning into his soft touch. “You are loved.” Bruce added before placing a soft kiss on his temple, holding him close.

“I still love you too.” Y/n whispers in return. The two holding each other close. Bruce is the first to pull away and sigh in relief. “You’ll have to explain to the others, especially to Damien after he,” He nods down at his wrapped up arm. “You know. Damien cares for you.”

Y/n nods. “He probably feels awful, poor kid.” He thinks about Damien and how awfully he must feel after knowing that the man he attacked was the same man who cared for him and claimed him as his son. “I’ll make sure he’s okay.” He reassured Bruce, stealing a kiss from him as the two smile at each other. That same night Y/n explains to the boys about his past and what he is, he also reassures Damien and tells him that his wound will heal fast. Damien decided to sleep with Y/n every night as an apology for his actions, clinging to his other parent every night while Bruce huffed in annoyance since he was forced to take the couch due to him not fitting.

[cjsarchive]

Hi! I love your work so much, and I was wondering if you would be up to doing your headcanons for Mika's beginning of relationship with each incubus? Michaela said that there was naturally a small weight period after Diana left to see if the relationship would work, so I was curious. Take your time, and thank you for all of the writing you've done:)

Thank you for the compliments! This prompt was so fun to do and I loved going back and playing the first game again in preparation for writing it. Hope you enjoy:D

James:

Would be every respectful, almost careful

A bit too gentlemanly

Waits on Mika hand and foot, he does it throughout the entire relationship, but it’s especially prominent at the start of the relationship

Is still getting used to what love is, so is very cautious and attentive to Mika

Has a few conversations and simply asks Mika what she expects from him and their relationship to make sure she never feels uncomfortable

Mika reassures him of her love for him and tries to relieve some of his precautions

Erik:

Still has doubts that she could really love ‘someone like him’

Is scared of not being enough for Mika

Feels like he’s dreaming

Wants to be physically close to her to confirm that he’s not dreaming

Wants to do everything to try to make her happy, down to the little things like simply holding the door open for her or making her coffee in the morning

Mika makes sure to keep reassuring him of her love

He can’t help but keep genuinely complimenting Mika

He tries really hard to get everything right

Sam:

A lot of gazing at Mika, can’t really believe it’s happening

He’s still getting used to love, so he’s pretty shy, a lot of stumbling over his words, mentally smacks himself for it

Anything Mika needs or wants, he immediately runs to get

Almost tries to downplay his personality at first, worried about messing something up

Tries to act overly gentlemanly at first, Mika appreciates the gestures, but reassures him to relax and that there’s nothing wrong with him being himself

Takes a bit to really start being playful and being fully himself

Matthew:

Actually pretty confident starting off

Very playful

Is always trying to make Mika smile and laugh

Wants to be touchy, but is still a bit hesitant, Mika initiates most of the touches at first

Many small kisses, whether on the cheek, the forehead, or the lips, they keep giving each other little kisses

Many compliments (You’re cuter, no you’re cuter!)

Corny in a fun way, are aware they’re corny, are as cheesy as possible just for the hell of it, they love being in love

Damien:

Blushes a lot

Is pretty clingy, loves being around Mika and wants to be physically close to her, Mika doesn’t mind and loves the clinginess

Is always checking on her

Is super grateful for Mika and does literally everything for her, wants to try repay her in anyway possible

Can’t stop smiling at Mika

Constantly complimenting each other

Mika can’t resist kissing him at every opportunity, he’s just too cute

He manages to bring up Mika in every conversation

[verieriberries]

the girls definitely thought bruce was a villain when they used their x-ray vision the first time they stepped foot in the manor.

batonium had been going at this dating thing for a couple of months now and the girls are still on the fence about bruce. surely if he was another sedusa situation then it wouldn’t take months for his evil plan to unfold, right? they can’t deny that bruce makes the professor happy but the trauma from the sedusa incident was deeper than they realized. as much as they wanted to trust bruce, there was something within them that couldn’t, at the moment.

bruce was briefed by the professor about the unfortunate ‘ex’ cause utonium felt like bruce deserved to know. it’s not that the girls hate him exactly, they’re just super cautious. bruce completely understands and only works harder to earn the girls’ trust. part of his campaign was opening up more of himself to the little family of the man he’d grown to adore. well, as much as he could while still keeping the batman thing a secret and trying to unlearn his emotionally constipated ways. (he goes to therapy because he deserves and needs it)

and so, what better way to open up more about himself than to open up his home to the utonium family? of course, he picked a day where most of the batfam were busy. only dick and alfred were in the house, which is basically the best combination bruce could think of when introducing a prospective partner who has children of their own.

alfred and dick were wonderful to the girls and it was heartwarming to see how content it made utonium feel. bruce felt like he could get away with wrapping his arm around the professor’s waist and it turned out to be true when he only got a glare from buttercup and no demands to unhand her dad.

on the girls’ part, dick and alfred were effective persuasion to start sort of warming up to the idea of boyfriend bruce. granted, it would take some time for them to actually start trusting the man but it was a start.

bruce was giving the utonium family a tour of the wayne manor, dick tagging along with them and supplying an inane story that happened in every space that they walked through. it was great entertainment for the girls and utonium as well. the batfam is nothing but rambunctious to say the least. buttercup was starting to think that damien might be her favorite of the bunch (oh how wrong/right she was).

they eventually reach the study that had the secret entrance to the batcave and blossom just suddenly has this niggling feeling. she’s an intuitive girl and her instincts have never steered her wrong before, no matter how young she was. deciding to trust herself, she uses her handy dandy x-ray vision and could see what she could only assume was an entrance to a secret villain lair. she wasted no time flying to her father’s side and her sisters were close behind despite their confusion.

utonium immediately chastised his daughters while bruce and dick momentarily paused before looking at each other.

“dad, we told you! he’s a bad guy!” blossom yelled causing her sisters to gasp and glare at bruce. dick couldn’t stop the loud cackle that pushed through his lips even if he tried. bruce looked confused.

“now what makes you say that?” utonium asked as he kneeled down. it had already been a few years since the science accident that created his daughters and while they were steadily growing, they were still quite small compared to his tall stature.

“he has a secret entrance to his villain lair behind the clock! bubbles and buttercup can look for themselves to prove that i’m telling the truth.”

after doing as their sister said, they flanked the professor with their assent that yes there IS a secret entrance to an evil lair there, we wouldn’t lie about it!

utonium knew his daughters had no reason to lie for something quite as serious as this so he could only look towards bruce for answers.

of all the ways that bruce could’ve revealed the batman to the professor, he didn’t expect that it would be like this. he had wanted to wait a bit more, maybe a year, before telling. and even then, he was hesitant about revealing the vigilante thing entirely. he was content to keep it a secret because he didn’t know how he could deal with utonium reacting negatively. it was only with the combined intervention of all his children and alfred that he even began to consider divulging his and his family’s alter egos to the utoniums. bruce couldn’t enter a relationship that he had hopes of lasting if he couldn’t share the single most important thing about him as a person.

he was really hoping that the moment he tells utonium would be under his own terms in which he had control over the situation but the girls just. poof. made all that hope go down the drain. he’d already been told by the professor that the girls were superpowered and that they had a range of abilities but it seems like he’d be putting x-ray vision into the list.

glancing at dick who was barely stifling his gighles, bruce sighed. “i’m not a villain or a bad guy. i’m. . . batman.”

now, utonium has heard of batman. who hasn’t? and ever since living in gotham, he’s been hearing more and more about the guy and he’s made an opinion. batman is good, though his slightly violent methods seem to suggest otherwise. gotham needs someone like the dark knight to keep things in check, and something that a lot of the public didn’t notice is that he was a lot more compassionate than they realized. why else would he send a gaggle of rogues to a psychiatric institution if not to give them the means to heal themselves? (utonium would feel differently about arkham whenever he finds out about the abuse and neglect that was prevalent in the facility.)

so when he heard buttercup say that the batman sounded very much like a villain name, utonium chuckled. and so, everyone’s attention was suddenly on him. his girls looked confused, wondering how he could laugh about this like it’s a light matter and he found himself smiling softly at them, silently wishing they’d stay this innocent for a little while longer.

“girls, remember how i told you about how townsville was before? how bad guys would always do bad things and that the people there would be too afraid to even go out of their homes?”

“yeah!” exclaimed buttercup. “but then you made us and we beat up the bad guys!” she looked very proud of that statement, as did her sisters. when utonium glanced at the waynes still standing in front of them, they both looked confused. utonium sighed.

“yes. you beat up villains so that they’d go to jail and everybody would be safe. it’s the same for batman.”

“oh.” they still looked unconvinced, but the professor always told them the truth. it was only dick’s comment, that batman was friends with superman, that made the girls release the tension that was holding them up. their shoulders relaxed as they regarded bruce with a curious look. bruce nodded at them, confirming everything that’s been said about him.

“so… you won’t hurt us mr. batman?” bubbles hesitantly asked and isn’t that heartbreaking, that the thought of bruce harming them was at the forefront of their minds

bruce kneeled on one knee to be eye level with utonium’s daughter. “i promise you, i would never harm you, your sisters or your father intentionally. if i end up being mean and hurting you guys, you have my explicit permission to beat me up.”

bubbles giggled, the most trusting of the three, and held out her pinky finger. “pinky promise? and you can’t break it ever.”

since they were still at the age where pinky promises were sacred, blossom and buttercup also held out their pinkies with determined looks. bruce’s lips quirked into a small smile, bringing up his own pinky to seal the deal with each of them. “i pinky promise.”

dick, when recounting what happened to the rest of the family when they arrived back at the manor and bruce was driving the utoniums back to their apartment, had a lot of to say about how adorable the girls were and how funny it was when they called bruce a bad guy.

jason had to interrupt him. “wait, what do you mean they beat up criminals in their hometown? aren’t they like, 3 years old?”

it was at that point everybody realised something. sure, damian was also young when he started as robin but that was mostly due to the hellish and dangerous training that he was put through under the league at such a young age. was it the same for the girls? what it they were being forced to do it? sure, they had powers but they were still children.

although they expected to feel excitement about meeting the utoniums soon, now they could only feel a small sense of dread.

[clovis-enthusiast]

What other Clovis ships do you enjoy? 🤗

(Other than Clovico)

AH HI YES HELLO i always forget to check for asks (and actually answer them as well. so sorry ares cabin asker one day u will get ur post... one day....)

i actually am a huge multi-shipper so the list of characters i ship clovis with is quite long! there are some i prefer and flesh out/explore way more than others for sure, but generally i think they're all very lovely 🫶

ANYWHOOZLE HERES A LIST OF ALL THE SHIPS THAT I LIKE(D) THAT I CAN THINK OF ATM!!

pollux

lou ellen blackstone (i prefer queer platonic partners for them but including anyway)

will solace (by himself or in a poly relationship with clovis AND nico)

jake mason (originated from one of my cosplayer friends apolloshalfblood who duets me as jake!!)

michael yew (originated from one of my cosplayer friends theturtleking72 who duets me as michael! i actually have a WHOLE lore/story behind this ship if anyone would like to hear abt it someday!!)

drew tanaka

mitchell

leo valdez

valentina diaz

butch walker

malcolm pace

dakota

octavian

damien white

jason grace

katie gardner

miranda gardiner (originated from a fanfic by mew-tsubaki!! note: that person also ships lacy and clovis which i do NOT condone. lacy is too young to be in a romantic relationship with clovis.)

sherman yang

nyssa barrera (originated from a fanfic by akheilos and delphin inc and inspired slightly by my cosplayer friend whatami.doing2!!)

alabaster c. torrington

piper mcclean (this was before she got together with shel so while i still like the ship, i feel cautious abt it just bc piper said she doesnt know what her sexuality is and since shes currently woth a woman, i dont want to disregard her potentially having a sexuality that woukd exclude clovis for one reason or another)

austin lake (originated from the artist baylx!!)

ethan nakamura (this is the most recent ship i got into actually! from a rlly good fic called even if you run away, you still see them in your dreams on a03 by mondtstadtlover6000)

and im probs missing a ton of others but these were the ones i could think of off the top of my head!!

(and then i also ship him with some of my own ocs :3 one is named marty diaz from the ares cabin, one is a daughter of hecate who doesn't have a name just yet, and one is a child of hecate named miles/miley!)

my personal favorites (besides clovico) are niclovill, pollovis, and (atm) ethan x clovis!!

and for reference, i hc clovis as somewhere between bi and pan but not rlly caring abt labels. also i hc him as being nonbinary/gender fluid if that adds anything to these ships lolol)

[aipens]

Every Robin has a Batgirl.

It first started with Dick Grayson and Barbara Gordon. However briefly, Tim Drake and Stephanie Brown followed, as did Damien Wayne and Cassandra Cain.

But where does that leave the second Robin? He, too, deserves someone that gets him. Because, though he tries so hard to do well in school, none of his peers are anyone he can call his friends. He’s simply too different from them.

As exciting as this new life is, both as Jason and as Robin, it is also lonely.

So why not give him some reprieve?

Allow Batman to cross ways with a spunky, fiery brat. Someone that doesn’t cower before him, even as he looks down at her, menacing as ever. Maybe she was engaging in some petty crime, bumping into all sorts of Gothamites and clearing their pockets of anything of value without them noticing. It’s probably an entirely too common sight— for all the good Bruce Wayne tries to do for his city, not everyone gets enough.

But playing thief puts food on the table. The motions are smooth and practiced, like she’s been doing this for months, at least. Maybe she has.

Any other time, perhaps he might’ve been more strict. But the unfazed look in her eyes, even as the city’s Dark Knight himself corners her is telling enough of her character, and a man like him can see beyond the raggedy clothes and the grime on her cheek— if nothing else, there’s potential for growth and, in their field, that is everything.

Let the news be dumped on Jason. Let initial skepticism at the prospect of a partner evolve into cautious interest, then competitive enthusiasm. He’s always been an independent, headstrong guy. Why is there a need for another sidekick? Is this some half-assed attempt to replace him?

Or maybe, it is more of a challenge. A means to prove himself to Bruce, outperforming her and establishing himself as the better choice.

And, above all, let her match that energy. Allow that feeling of being undermined to make way for camaraderie. He, too, can recognize that if Grayson had a batgirl, it’s only right he gets one, too. Allow his forced partner to become his ally, even if reluctantly. And from there, let him earn a dear friend.

Let them grow together, as vigilantes and as people. Let them share their backgrounds, and bond over common experiences.

As he grows from an ever-happy boy to one far more critical of Batman and his methods, keep Batgirl as this constant source of lightheartedness to balance his own brooding nature. Let their banter and jokes help them both cope with the darkness of their work.

Let him have someone to reach out to about fears and vulnerabilities. Because, for as grateful as he is to Bruce, he is often the object of his grievances. In cases like those, her presence is always welcome. In turn, let him feel relied on when she returns the favor and seeks him out for comfort. He’s hardly anyone’s first choice, and he knows that much.

But also, let him realize some special sort of feelings may be starting to flourish. Let him grapple with whether or not it’s best to remain silent as the idea of a crush settles in. As he sorts himself out, let him question if saying anything will be worth it at all.

It’s innocent and has that juvenile quality to it. Let him become hyper-aware of her presence. Let the familiar closeness make him bashful, but not enough to deter him from looking for any and every opportunity to spend time with her. He’s not unlike a peacock, sometimes, showing off his feather to impress her. Grand movements during a fight during patrol together, followed by undertones of self-consciousness if she calls him out on being a show-off. Toning it up with the wit and the charm, and always checking to see if he’s at least earned a small laugh. Perhaps he’ll even try to play the act of the chivalrous gentleman… to an extent. Not pulling out a chair for her, or anything. That seems too obvious. More like prioritizing her safety, and readily offering support.

He tries hard to put himself in a favorable light. To someone like Batman or Alfred, the flashy behavior might be entirely too conspicuous. But indeed, he does well in showcasing himself and catching her eye. For as long as they’ve worked together, she’s known him to be rather fearless. (Although, when it comes to him, that’s pretty synonymous with reckless). He’s a reliable, quick thinker, and can be charismatic when he’s not being broody. Let her return those feelings.

And, lastly, let him resolve to be true to himself and tell her soon, but not soon enough.

Let him fall into the Joker’s grasp before he can try to do anything. Have him endure great suffering at the hands of his captor, and isolate him from the world. Let him grow frustrated at his situation, and have him long for home. Even as he lies beaten and broken, allow him some solace in his memories of before. He deserves that small comfort.

On her end, allow her to remain hopeful of finding him, no matter how long’s passed. And, even if her mentor has accepted Robin’s death, let her hold on to the possibility that that might not be the case. In consequence, however, let her grow resentful of Bruce and his apparent lack of compassion for his own son. Let Bruce shield her from the recordings of his Robin getting beaten down. He knows how much those two care for each other. Let him try to protect at least one of them.

Let her assume that the appearance of the small Tim Drake is Bruce’s quick acceptance of the absurd idea that Jason isn’t coming back to them— to her. Let her grow angry. Let her snap at Bruce for failing them both, and let their relationship forever remain severed.

Even as months pass, she will do her best to find him. But then again, if the world’s best detective failed, what can you expect this Batgirl to do?

Let the first real interaction in months between Batgirl and Batman to occur upon receiving news of Robin’s whereabouts. Let them both rush off to that damned warehouse, and let Jason’s final thought be that he hears a familiar call of his name as everything explodes around him.

Let Bruce return home, having lost two members of his family. One to death’s hands, and one to grief and anger. Let her run and vow to never return, blaming Batman for having failed them both, and let Batman be powerless before his own losses.

[ladyeckland28]

Shadows Of Charming

A fan fiction by Ecky

Starring @samcrosfaith

**Disclaimer:**

This fan fiction story is a creative work set in the Sons of Anarchy universe, inspired by the original series created by Kurt Sutter. It contains mature content, including violence and strong language, in line with the tone of the show. Please enjoy this fan tribute for entertainment purposes only. Thank you for being part of this fan fiction journey in the world of Sons of Anarchy.

Part 1: Arrival

The night cloaked Charming in a veil of secrecy as Sam Crois Faith stepped off the Greyhound bus. Her combat boots hit the cracked pavement with a soft thud, the sound barely audible over the idling engine. She tugged her black leather jacket tighter around her slender frame, her piercing blue eyes scanning the deserted bus station.

Sam's heart raced, her breath shallow. Every shadow seemed to hide a threat, every rustle of leaves a potential pursuer. She knew Damien wouldn't give up easily. The thought of his rage, his possessive fury, sent a chill down her spine.

"You okay there, miss?" The bus driver's gruff voice startled her.

Sam forced a smile, tucking a strand of jet-black hair behind her ear. "Yeah, thanks. Just... taking it all in."

The driver nodded, unconvinced. "Well, be careful. Charming ain't always as nice as its name suggests."

As the bus pulled away, leaving Sam alone in the pool of dim streetlight, she muttered, "Nowhere is."

With her duffel bag slung over her shoulder, Sam set off into the unknown streets of Charming. The town slumbered, unaware of the storm she brought with her. Shop windows reflected her pale face and dark attire, a gothic apparition gliding through the night.

Sam had no destination in mind, just an desperate need to disappear. Each step took her further from Damien, but the invisible tether of fear still bound her. She walked for what felt like hours, the weight of her past growing heavier with each block.

As dawn began to bleed into the sky, Sam found herself in front of a garage. The sign read "Teller-Morrow Automotive Repair." A row of gleaming motorcycles caught her eye, their chrome accents reflecting the first rays of sunlight.

"You lost, darlin'?"

Sam whirled around, her hand instinctively reaching for the switchblade in her pocket. A man with wild, curly hair and piercing blue eyes regarded her with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. His kutte bore patches she didn't recognize, but the words "Sons of Anarchy" were clear.

"I... I'm new in town," Sam stammered, forcing her hand away from the concealed weapon. "Just walking."

The man's lips curled into a grin that was equal parts charm and menace. "Hell of a long walk. Sun's barely up." He extended a hand. "Name's Tig. And you are?"

Sam hesitated before shaking his hand. "Sam."

Tig's eyebrows rose. "Sam? That short for Samantha?"

"No," she replied curtly. "Just Sam."

Before Tig could respond, the rumble of motorcycles filled the air. Three bikes pulled into the lot, their riders eyeing Sam with obvious suspicion.

"Making new friends, Tiggy?" A blonde man with a neatly trimmed beard dismounted, his eyes never leaving Sam.

"Just being neighborly, Jax," Tig replied, his grin widening. "This here's Sam. Says she's new in town."

Jax approached, his swagger confident but cautious. "That right? What brings you to Charming, Sam?"

Sam's mind raced. She couldn't tell the truth, but lies had never come easily to her. "I... I'm just passing through. Looking for work, maybe."

A older man with scars on his cheeks stepped forward, his Scottish accent thick. "Aye, and what kind of work would that be? Don't recall many job openings for gothic princesses 'round here."

Sam bristled at the comment. "I can do anything. Mechanic, bartender, whatever pays."

Jax exchanged glances with his companions before turning back to Sam. "Why don't you come inside? We can talk about it over coffee."

It wasn't a request. Sam knew she was trapped, at least for the moment. She nodded, following Jax and the others into the garage's office.

The space was cluttered but organized, with a distinct masculine energy. Sam perched on the edge of a worn couch, hyper-aware of the exit points and potential weapons.

"So, Sam," Jax began, leaning against a desk. "Where you from?"

"Around," Sam replied vaguely.

The Scottish man snorted. "Aye, that's specific."

"Chibs," Jax said, a warning in his tone. He turned back to Sam. "Look, we don't mean to interrogate you. But Charming's a small town, and we like to know who's coming and going. Especially when they show up at our doorstep at dawn."

Sam's fingers twitched, itching for a cigarette. "I told you, I'm just looking for work. Is that a crime?"

"Depends on the kind of work," a new voice interjected. A woman entered the office, her presence instantly commanding attention. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, fixed on Sam. "You running from something, sweetheart?"

Sam's breath caught in her throat. This woman saw too much, knew too much with just a glance. "Aren't we all?" Sam countered, trying to keep her voice steady.

The woman's lips curved into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I'm Gemma. Jax's mother." She looked at her son. "Clay's looking for you. Club business."

Jax nodded, then addressed Sam. "Stay put. We're not done talking."

As the men filed out, Gemma took a seat across from Sam. The two women studied each other in tense silence.

"You're in trouble," Gemma finally said. It wasn't a question.

Sam's defenses crumbled under Gemma's penetrating gaze. "You have no idea."

Gemma leaned forward. "Try me, sweetheart. I've seen it all."

For a moment, Sam considered spilling everything. The words danced on the tip of her tongue – Damien, the drugs, the beatings, the desperate escape. But years of caution held her back.

"I can't," Sam whispered. "It's not safe. For anyone."

Gemma's expression softened, just slightly. "Honey, nothing in this life is safe. But sometimes, the right danger can keep you alive."

Before Sam could respond, the office door burst open. Jax stormed in, his face a mask of barely contained rage.

"We've got a problem," he announced. "Seems our new friend here brought some baggage with her. There's a guy tearing up Main Street, flashing your picture." He fixed Sam with a hard stare. "Want to tell us what the hell is going on?"

Sam's world tilted. Damien had found her. The fragile illusion of escape shattered, leaving only cold, familiar dread.

"I have to go," she gasped, bolting for the door.

But Tig blocked her path, his earlier friendliness replaced by steely resolve. "Not so fast, doll. You've got some explaining to do."

Trapped between Damien's approaching storm and the Sons' suspicion, Sam realized she had run out of options. The shadows of Charming had ensnared her, and there was nowhere left to hide.

****

Part 2: Revelations

Sam's eyes darted frantically between the Sons, searching for an escape route that didn't exist. Her chest tightened, breaths coming in short, panicked gasps.

"Hey, hey," Jax said, his tone softening as he noticed her distress. "Take it easy. We're not gonna hurt you, but we need answers. Now."

Gemma stood, placing a steadying hand on Sam's shoulder. "Sit down, sweetheart. Deep breaths."

As Sam sank back onto the couch, Chibs peered out the window. "Shite. We've got company, Jackie boy. Mean-looking bastard in a suit, asking questions at the gas station across the street."

Jax's jaw clenched. "Tig, take Juice and run interference. Keep him busy, but don't engage. I want to hear Sam's story first."

As Tig nodded and left, Jax pulled up a chair directly in front of Sam. His blue eyes, so like her own, held a mixture of concern and wariness. "Start talking."

Sam took a shaky breath. "His name is Damien Cross. He's... he was my boyfriend."

"The guy out there?" Jax pressed.

Sam nodded. "He's dangerous. More than you know. I had to get away."

Chibs scoffed. "Aye, we gathered that much, lass. What we need to know is how dangerous, and to whom?"

"To everyone," Sam whispered. She looked up, meeting Jax's gaze. "Damien isn't just some abusive ex. He's a drug lord, with connections spreading from here to Mexico and even Colombia."

The tension in the room ratcheted up several notches. Jax and Chibs exchanged loaded glances.

"Jesus Christ," Gemma muttered. "You sure know how to pick 'em, don't you?"

Sam's eyes flashed. "I didn't choose this. I was a stupid kid who thought she was in love. By the time I realized what Damien really was, it was too late."

"How deep are you in this?" Jax asked, leaning forward.

"Deep enough to know too much," Sam replied. "Names, routes, contacts. Damien liked to brag when he was high. Said it turned him on that I knew how powerful he was."

Jax stood abruptly, pacing the small office. "Shit. This is bigger than we thought."

The door burst open, and a young man with a mohawk and tribal tattoos on his scalp rushed in. "Jax, we've got a problem. That guy? He's not alone. There's at least four more, armed, circling the block."

"Thanks, Juice," Jax said, his mind racing. "Get everyone inside. Now."

As Juice left, Jax turned back to Sam. "How many men does Damien usually travel with?"

"At least a dozen," Sam said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Ex-military, mostly. Loyal to a fault."

"Christ," Chibs muttered. "We're outnumbered and outgunned."

Jax's phone buzzed. He glanced at it, his expression darkening. "Clay wants us in church. Now." He pointed at Sam. "You're coming with us. Gemma, keep an eye on things out here."

Gemma nodded, her face a mask of grim determination. "Be careful, baby."

Jax led Sam through the garage and into a back room. A large wooden table dominated the space, carved with a reaper logo. Men in kuttes similar to Jax's filled the chairs around it, their faces a mix of curiosity and hostility.

An older man with graying hair and scarred hands sat at the head of the table. His piercing gaze locked onto Sam. "This the girl?"

"Yeah," Jax replied, guiding Sam to stand at the foot of the table. "Clay, we've got a situation."

Over the next few minutes, Jax laid out what they'd learned about Damien and his operation. The room grew increasingly tense as the full scope of the threat became clear.

Clay's eyes never left Sam. "And how do we know she's not working with this Damien? Could be a setup."

Sam's temper flared. "If I was working with him, why would I tell you about his operation? I'm trying to get away from him, not lure you in!"

"Watch your tone, little girl," Clay growled. "You brought this shitstorm to our doorstep. Far as I'm concerned, that makes you a threat."

"Clay," Jax interjected, his voice tight. "She's scared and alone. We need to focus on the real problem here."

A large man with a wild beard spoke up. "Jax is right. If this Damien's got the connections Sam says he does, we could be looking at a full-scale war. Mayans, Niners, everyone's gonna want a piece of this action."

"Opie's got a point," Chibs added. "We need to tread carefully here."

Clay leaned back, his eyes narrowing. "Alright. Jax, take Tig and Chibs. Go talk to this Damien character. See what he wants."

"And Sam?" Jax asked.

Clay's lip curled. "She stays here. Insurance."

As the meeting broke up, Sam grabbed Jax's arm. "Please, don't hand me over to him. He'll kill me."

Jax's expression softened. "We're not gonna let that happen. Just sit tight, okay?"

As Jax left with Tig and Chibs, the remaining Sons eyed Sam warily. She hugged herself, feeling more alone than ever.

Outside, Jax approached the sleek black SUV parked across from Teller-Morrow. A tall man in an expensive suit leaned against it, a cruel smile playing on his lips.

"Damien Cross, I presume?" Jax called out.

The man's dark eyes glittered. "And you must be the local muscle. Jackson Teller, right? I've heard interesting things about you and your little club."

Jax's stomach churned. This man radiated danger in a way few others did. "Seems like you've done your homework. Want to tell me why you're tearing up my town?"

Damien's smile widened. "Come now, Mr. Teller. We both know why I'm here. Where is she?"

"Who?" Jax asked, feigning ignorance.

Damien chuckled, the sound devoid of any real mirth. "Please. Don't insult my intelligence. Samantha is mine. She belongs with me. I've come to take her home."

Tig stepped forward, his hand twitching near his gun. "Listen, asshole. I don't know who you think you are, but—"

In a flash, Damien had a pistol trained on Tig's forehead. "I'm the man who can have this entire town turned into a war zone with one phone call. So please, choose your next words carefully."

Jax raised his hands placatingly. "Easy. We're just talking here."

Damien lowered the gun but didn't holster it. "Indeed we are. So let's talk business, Mr. Teller. I know your club has certain... entrepreneurial interests. I'm willing to offer you a mutually beneficial arrangement. All I ask in return is Samantha."

"And if we don't have her?" Jax asked.

Damien's eyes hardened. "Then things will become very unpleasant for Charming. You see, I have friends in low places. The cartels owe me favors. It would be a shame if they decided to move their operations into this quaint little town."

The threat hung in the air, heavy and ominous. Jax's mind raced, weighing their options.

"Give me 24 hours," Jax finally said. "If she's here, I'll convince her to meet with you. Peacefully."

Damien studied Jax for a long moment before nodding. "24 hours. Not a minute more." He got into his SUV. "Oh, and Mr. Teller? Don't try to run. There's nowhere she can go that I won't find her."

As the SUV pulled away, Chibs turned to Jax. "What's the play here, Jackie boy?"

Jax ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know yet. But we need to find out more about this guy. Juice!"

The young intelligence officer jogged over. "Yeah, boss?"

"I need everything you can find on Damien Cross. Dig deep. I want to know every skeleton in his closet."

Back inside, Sam paced the small office like a caged animal. Gemma watched her with a mixture of sympathy and suspicion.

"You weren't entirely truthful before, were you?" Gemma asked.

Sam stopped pacing. "What do you mean?"

Gemma leaned forward. "You said you were just some stupid kid who fell for the wrong guy. But there's more to it than that, isn't there?"

Sam's shoulders slumped. "How did you know?"

"Honey, I've been around long enough to spot a girl running from her past. And you? You're running from more than just a bad relationship."

Tears welled up in Sam's eyes. "I didn't have a choice. My parents died when I was 16. I had nowhere to go, no one to turn to. Damien... he seemed so kind at first. Offered me a home, a family."

Gemma's expression softened. "And by the time you realized what he really wanted, you were in too deep."

Sam nodded, wiping away a tear. "He made me help him. Said it was the price for his protection. I... I've done things, Gemma. Terrible things."

Before Gemma could respond, the office door opened. Jax entered, his face grim.

"We've got a problem," he announced. "Damien's given us 24 hours to hand you over, or he's bringing a cartel war to Charming."

Sam's face paled. "Oh God. I never should have come here. I've put you all in danger."

Jax shook his head. "This isn't on you. But we need to figure out our next move, fast."

A knock at the door interrupted them. Juice entered, his laptop tucked under his arm. "Jax, you're gonna want to see this."

They gathered around as Juice opened his computer. "I did some digging on Damien Cross. This guy's no joke. He's got ties to the Galindo Cartel, the Russian mob, even some rogue CIA operatives."

"Jesus Christ," Jax muttered.

"That's not all," Juice continued. "I found some chatter on the dark web. Seems Damien's been making moves lately, consolidating power. Word is, he's planning something big. Like, 'reshape the entire West Coast drug trade' big."

Sam's eyes widened. "The Avalon Project," she whispered.

All eyes turned to her. "What's that?" Jax demanded.

"It's... it's Damien's master plan," Sam explained, her voice shaking. "He wants to create a new pipeline, one that bypasses the traditional cartels. He's been working on it for years, calling in favors, making alliances."

"And you know the details of this plan?" Clay asked, having entered silently during Juice's explanation.

Sam nodded. "Some of it. Enough to destroy everything he's worked for."

A tense silence fell over the room. Finally, Clay spoke. "Alright. Here's what we're gonna do. Jax, you and Opie reach out to Alvarez. See if the Mayans have heard anything about this Avalon Project. Chibs, touch base with the Irish. If Damien's making moves this big, they might have some intel."

"What about me?" Sam asked quietly.

Clay fixed her with a hard stare. "You're gonna tell us everything you know about Damien's operation. Every safe house, every contact, every dirty little secret. If we're going to war, we need all the ammunition we can get."

As the Sons dispersed to carry out their tasks, Jax pulled Sam aside. "Hey. You okay?"

Sam let out a shaky breath. "No. Not really. Jax, I... I'm sorry for bringing this to your doorstep. I never meant for any of this to happen."

Jax's expression softened. "I know. But you're not alone anymore, Sam. We're gonna figure this out."

For the first time since arriving in Charming, Sam felt a glimmer of hope. But as she looked into Jax's eyes, she saw something that both thrilled and terrified her – a fierce protectiveness that mirrored Damien's in the early days.

"Be careful, Jax," she whispered. "Damien has a way of twisting people, of making them do things they never thought they were capable of."

Jax squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "I can handle myself. You just focus on staying safe and remembering everything you can about Damien's operation. We're gonna need every edge we can get."

As Jax left to meet with the Mayans, Sam couldn't shake the feeling that she had set something in motion that would change Charming forever. The shadows were deepening, and she feared that by the time this was over, they might consume them all.

Outside, Damien Cross sat in his SUV, a phone pressed to his ear. "Yes, everything is proceeding as planned. The Sons took the bait, just as we anticipated." He paused, listening. "No, they don't suspect a thing. By the time they realize the true scope of the Avalon Project, it will be too late. Charming will be ours, and with it, the key to controlling the entire West Coast."

As he hung up, Damien's gaze fixed on Teller-Morrow Automotive. A cold smile played on his lips. The pieces were falling into place, and soon, very soon, he would have everything he wanted – Sam, Charming, and an empire that would make him the most powerful man in California.

The clock was ticking, and the fate of Charming hung in the balance.

****

Part 3: Unraveling Threads

The chapel of the Sons of Anarchy clubhouse had never felt so claustrophobic. Sam sat at the far end of the table, surrounded by leather-clad bikers whose expressions ranged from curiosity to outright hostility. Clay presided over the impromptu meeting, his scarred hands splayed on the wooden surface.

"Alright, darlin'," he growled. "Start talking. We need everything you know about this Avalon Project."

Sam took a deep breath, steeling herself. "The Avalon Project isn't just about drugs. It's about power. Total control over the West Coast's underworld."

Tig leaned forward, his blue eyes intense. "How's he planning to pull that off? Guy's got balls, I'll give him that."

"It's a three-pronged approach," Sam explained. "First, he's been quietly buying up properties all along the coast – warehouses, docks, even small airfields. Second, he's been infiltrating local law enforcement and government offices, planting his people or blackmailing officials."

"And the third prong?" Jax prompted.

Sam's eyes met his. "Us. Or rather, clubs like yours. Damien believes that if he can control or eliminate the major MCs, he'll have a clear path to dominance."

A heavy silence fell over the room. Chibs was the first to break it. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. The bastard's trying to build himself a bloody empire."

Clay's jaw clenched. "You're telling me this Damien character thinks he can just waltz in and take over? He's got another thing coming."

"You don't understand," Sam insisted, her voice rising. "Damien's not just some upstart drug lord. He's methodical, patient. He's been planning this for years."

Opie spoke up, his deep voice rumbling through the tension. "How do you know all this? No offense, but you don't strike me as the criminal mastermind type."

Sam's gaze dropped to the table. "I told you, Damien liked to brag when he was high. But... that's not the whole truth." She took a shaky breath. "I was more involved than I let on. Damien... he was grooming me to be his partner in all this. Said I had a mind for strategy."

The revelation sent a ripple of unease through the room. Jax's eyes narrowed. "Just how involved were you, Sam?"

Before she could answer, Juice burst into the chapel, laptop in hand. "Guys, we've got a problem. A big one."

Clay glared at the interruption. "This better be good, Juice."

"I've been monitoring police channels and dark web chatter," Juice explained, setting his computer on the table. "In the last hour, there's been a spike in activity. Looks like someone's making moves against every major MC on the West Coast. The Mayans just had one of their gun shipments seized. The Niners are dealing with a sudden influx of rival dealers in their territory."

Jax's eyes widened. "It's starting. Damien's making his play."

Sam nodded grimly. "The Avalon Project was always designed to be a swift, coordinated attack. Weaken all potential opposition simultaneously."

Clay slammed his hand on the table. "Goddammit! We need to shut this down now. Jax, get Alvarez on the phone. We need to coordinate with the Mayans. Chibs, reach out to the Irish. If Damien's disrupting gun shipments, they need to know."

As the Sons scrambled into action, Sam felt a hand on her arm. She looked up to see Gemma, concern etched on her face.

"Come on, honey," Gemma said softly. "Let's get you some air while the boys figure this out."

Outside, the California sun felt at odds with the darkness gathering around them. Sam leaned against the garage wall, lighting a cigarette with shaking hands.

"You're carrying a hell of a lot of guilt, aren't you?" Gemma observed, lighting her own smoke.

Sam exhaled a plume of smoke. "You have no idea."

"Try me," Gemma challenged. "I've seen my fair share of shit in this life."

For a moment, Sam considered brushing her off. But something in Gemma's eyes – a mix of hardness and understanding – made her reconsider.

"I didn't just know about Damien's plans," Sam confessed. "I helped create them. The strategy, the timing – a lot of that was me. I thought... I thought I was building something. Creating order out of chaos."

Gemma studied her for a long moment. "And when did you realize you were just trading one kind of chaos for another?"

Sam's laugh was hollow. "When I saw what it was doing to people. The lives destroyed, the communities torn apart. Damien didn't care about any of that. To him, it was all just numbers on a spreadsheet."

"So you ran," Gemma finished.

Sam nodded. "But not before I sabotaged what I could. Changed some key details in the plans, altered delivery schedules. It won't stop Damien, but it might slow him down."

Gemma's expression softened slightly. "You did what you had to do to survive. We've all got shit we're not proud of."

Before Sam could respond, Jax emerged from the clubhouse, his face grim. "We've got trouble. Alvarez says the Mayans are under attack. Looks like Damien's men are making a play for their territory."

Gemma straightened. "What are you gonna do?"

Jax ran a hand through his hair. "We don't have a choice. We need to help the Mayans. If Damien takes them out, we're next."

Sam stepped forward. "Let me help. I know Damien's tactics, his weak points."

Jax hesitated, studying her. "You sure about this? Once you're in, there's no going back."

Sam met his gaze steadily. "I'm already in, Jax. Might as well do some good while I'm here."

Inside the clubhouse, plans were coming together rapidly. Maps were spread across the chapel table, marked with potential targets and strongholds.

"Alvarez says they're hitting the Mayans from three directions," Jax explained, pointing to the map. "Here, here, and here. They're trying to cut off escape routes and supply lines."

Chibs nodded. "Classic pincer movement. Bastard knows his stuff."

Sam leaned in, her eyes scanning the map. "There," she said, pointing to a spot just outside Oakland. "That's where Damien will be coordinating from. He always likes to be close to the action, but not too close."

Opie raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that?"

Sam nodded. "Positive. It's an old civil defense bunker. Damien had it retrofitted as a mobile command center."

Clay's eyes narrowed. "If we could take out their command post..."

"We could throw their whole operation into chaos," Jax finished. He turned to Sam. "What kind of defenses are we looking at?"

Sam closed her eyes, recalling details she'd tried so hard to forget. "At least a dozen men, heavily armed. State-of-the-art security system. But..." She paused, a memory surfacing. "There's a weakness. A maintenance tunnel that doesn't show up on any official plans. Damien had it built as an escape route."

Tig grinned. "Sounds like our way in."

Clay nodded. "Alright. Jax, take Opie, Chibs, and Tig. Hit that command post hard and fast. Juice, you're on tech support. The rest of us will coordinate with the Mayans, try to push back Damien's men on the ground."

As the Sons prepared for battle, strapping on kevlar and checking weapons, Sam felt a surge of conflicting emotions. Fear, guilt, but also a strange sense of purpose.

Jax approached her, adjusting his holster. "You sure you're up for this? It's gonna get ugly out there."

Sam met his gaze, her blue eyes hardening with resolve. "I helped create this mess. It's time I helped clean it up."

Jax nodded, a hint of respect in his eyes. "Alright. Stay close to me. And Sam?" He paused, his expression serious. "When this is over, we're gonna have a long talk about everything you know."

As they headed for the bikes, the roar of engines filling the air, Sam couldn't shake the feeling that she was crossing a point of no return. The shadows of her past were colliding with the uncertain future of Charming, and she was caught in the middle of the storm.

The ride to Oakland was tense, each member lost in their own thoughts. Sam clung to Jax, the wind whipping through her hair, carrying with it the scent of impending violence.

As they approached the outskirts of the city, Jax's voice crackled over the helmet comms. "Alright, boys. We go in quiet. Hit 'em hard, hit 'em fast. Sam, you're with me. Lead us to that tunnel."

They ditched the bikes a mile out, approaching the bunker on foot. Sam's heart raced as she led them through overgrown paths, memories of her time with Damien flashing through her mind.

"There," she whispered, pointing to a rusted grate barely visible beneath a tangle of vines. "That's our way in."

Tig made quick work of the lock, and soon they were crawling through the dank tunnel. The sounds of activity grew louder as they approached the main chamber.

Jax held up a hand, signaling them to stop. He turned to Sam, his voice barely audible. "Last chance to back out."

Sam shook her head. "I'm seeing this through."

With a nod, Jax gave the signal. The Sons burst into action, catching Damien's men off guard. The room erupted into chaos – gunfire, shouts, the crash of equipment being overturned.

Sam stayed low, her eyes scanning the room for Damien. She spotted him near a bank of computers, barking orders into a phone.

"Jax!" she called out, pointing. "There!"

Jax fought his way across the room, determination etched on his face. But before he could reach Damien, a familiar voice cut through the din.

"Well, well. Samantha. I must say, I'm impressed."

Sam froze, her blood running cold. She turned slowly to see Damien standing just a few feet away, a cruel smile playing on his lips.

"Did you really think you could run from me?" Damien asked, his voice deceptively calm. "That you could betray everything we built together?"

Sam's hand inched towards the gun Jax had given her. "It's over, Damien. Your plan's falling apart."

Damien's laugh was chilling. "Oh, my dear. This?" He gestured to the chaos around them. "This is just the beginning. You of all people should know – I always have a contingency plan."

As if on cue, a new wave of armed men flooded into the room. The Sons found themselves outnumbered and outgunned.

Damien's eyes gleamed with triumph. "Now, Samantha. It's time to come home. We have an empire to build."

Sam's mind raced, searching for a way out. But as she looked around at the Sons – bloodied, cornered, but still defiant – she realized there was only one path forward.

"No," she said, her voice steady. "I'm done running. And I'm done hiding." She raised her gun, aiming it squarely at Damien's chest. "This ends now."

The room fell silent, all eyes on Sam and Damien. The fate of Charming, and perhaps the entire West Coast underworld, hung in the balance.

Sam's finger tightened on the trigger, her past and future converging in this single, defining moment.

*****

Part 4: Reckoning

Time seemed to slow as Sam faced down Damien, her finger poised on the trigger. The air crackled with tension, punctuated by the ragged breathing of those around them.

Damien's eyes narrowed, a flicker of something – respect, perhaps, or fear – crossing his face. "You won't do it, Samantha. You don't have it in you."

Sam's hand trembled slightly, but her aim remained true. "You're wrong, Damien. You don't know me anymore. Maybe you never did."

Jax inched closer, his gun trained on Damien's men. "Sam," he said softly, "you don't have to do this. We can end this another way."

Damien's laugh was cold. "Listen to your new friend, Samantha. Put the gun down, and maybe I'll let him and his little biker gang live."

The threat snapped something in Sam. In that moment, she saw with crystal clarity the path that had led her here – every compromise, every justification, every step deeper into darkness. And she saw, too, the possibility of redemption.

"No more threats," Sam said, her voice steady. "No more manipulation. It's over, Damien."

She squeezed the trigger.

The gunshot echoed through the bunker, followed by a moment of stunned silence. Damien looked down at his chest, a red stain blossoming on his expensive shirt. His eyes, wide with disbelief, met Sam's one last time before he crumpled to the floor.

Chaos erupted. Damien's men, momentarily frozen by their leader's fall, surged forward. The Sons met them head-on, the room exploding into a frenzy of gunfire and hand-to-hand combat.

Sam felt a strong hand grasp her arm. It was Jax, pulling her behind an overturned desk. "Stay down!" he shouted over the din.

The battle raged, neither side willing to give ground. Sam watched in a daze as Tig took down two men with savage efficiency, while Chibs and Opie fought back-to-back, a whirlwind of fists and bullets.

Suddenly, a new sound cut through the chaos – police sirens, growing louder by the second.

"Shit!" Jax cursed. "We gotta move. Now!"

He grabbed Sam's hand, leading her towards the exit tunnel. The other Sons disengaged, providing covering fire as they retreated.

They emerged into the fading daylight, the sirens now deafeningly close. "The bikes," Opie panted. "We'll never make it."

Jax's mind raced. "The trees. We'll lose them in the woods. Move!"

They plunged into the dense foliage, the sounds of pursuit fading behind them. Sam's lungs burned as she ran, branches whipping at her face. She could hear the labored breathing of the Sons around her, the occasional curse as someone stumbled in the gathering darkness.

After what felt like hours, Jax finally called a halt. They huddled in a small clearing, catching their breath and assessing injuries.

"Everyone okay?" Jax asked, his eyes scanning the group.

There were nods all around, though Tig was sporting a nasty gash on his arm, and Chibs had a rapidly swelling eye.

Sam leaned against a tree, the adrenaline ebbing from her system. The full weight of what she'd done – what they'd all done – began to settle on her shoulders.

Jax approached her, his expression unreadable. "You okay?"

Sam laughed humorlessly. "I just killed a man. The man I once thought I loved. So no, Jax. I'm not okay."

Jax nodded, understanding in his eyes. "You did what you had to do. We all did."

"He's right, lass," Chibs added, limping over. "That bastard would've burned the whole coast to the ground if you hadn't stopped him."

Sam closed her eyes, fighting back tears. "Maybe. But where does that leave me? I'm no better than he was."

"Bullshit," Tig interjected, his voice gruff but kind. "You made a choice. The right choice. That makes all the difference."

Before Sam could respond, Juice's voice crackled over their burner phones. "Jax? You guys okay?"

Jax grabbed his phone. "Yeah, we're clear. What's the situation?"

"It's crazy, man," Juice replied. "Damien's whole operation is falling apart. His men are turning on each other, trying to grab what they can before it all goes down. The Mayans are pushing them back on all fronts."

A collective sigh of relief went through the group. Jax allowed himself a small smile. "Good work, Juice. Keep monitoring the situation. We'll make our way back when it's clear."

As Jax relayed the news to the others, Sam felt a strange mix of emotions wash over her. Relief, certainly, but also a profound sense of loss. The life she had known, for better or worse, was over. She was adrift in uncharted waters.

Jax must have sensed her turmoil. He sat down beside her, his shoulder brushing hers. "Hey. I meant what I said before. You're not alone in this."

Sam turned to him, searching his face. "Why? Why would you help me after everything I've done?"

Jax was quiet for a moment, considering his words. "Because I've been where you are. Caught between loyalty and doing what's right. It's not an easy path, but it's one worth walking."

As night fell, the Sons made their way carefully back towards Charming. They moved in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. The events of the day had shaken them all, forcing them to confront hard truths about themselves and the life they led.

It was nearly dawn by the time they reached the outskirts of town. Exhausted and battered, they rolled into the Teller-Morrow lot. Gemma was waiting, worry etched on her face.

"Jesus Christ," she breathed, taking in their appearance. "What the hell happened out there?"

Clay emerged from the clubhouse, his face a mask of barely contained anger and concern. "Inside. Now. We need to talk."

The chapel was somber as Jax recounted the events at the bunker. When he finished, a heavy silence fell over the room.

Clay's eyes bored into Sam. "You. You're the key to all this. You know names, places, operations. If we're gonna clean up this mess, we need everything you've got."

Sam nodded slowly. "I'll tell you everything I know. But after that... I need to disappear. It's not safe for me here, or for any of you while I'm around."

Jax started to protest, but Clay held up a hand. "She's right. There'll be a target on her back. And on ours if we harbor her."

"So what, we just cut her loose?" Opie asked, disbelief in his voice.

Clay's expression was grim. "We do what we have to do to protect the club. Always."

The discussion raged on, voices rising as opinions clashed. Sam sat silently, the weight of her past and the uncertainty of her future pressing down on her.

Finally, Jax slammed his hand on the table. "Enough! We're not abandoning her. Sam risked everything to help us. We owe her."

Clay's jaw clenched. "And what do you propose we do, son? Hide her in the clubhouse forever?"

A thoughtful look crossed Jax's face. "No. Not hide her. Give her a new life."

Over the next hour, a plan took shape. Juice would create a new identity for Sam, complete with background and paperwork. The club would use its connections to set her up in a new town, far from California.

As the Sons hammered out the details, Gemma pulled Sam aside. "You sure about this, sweetheart? Once you go, there's no coming back."

Sam took a shaky breath. "I don't have a choice. It's the only way to keep everyone safe."

Gemma studied her for a long moment. "You know, when you first showed up, I thought you were nothing but trouble. But now..." She paused, a hint of admiration in her eyes. "You've got steel in you, girl. You'll be alright."

The next few days passed in a blur of preparation and goodbyes. Sam spent hours with Juice, memorizing her new identity and background. She sat with Chibs, learning the basics of self-defense. Tig, in a surprising show of sentimentality, gave her a burner phone "for emergencies only, doll."

On her last night in Charming, Sam found herself on the roof of the clubhouse, staring out at the town that had become an unexpected sanctuary. She heard footsteps behind her and turned to see Jax approaching.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked, sitting down beside her.

Sam shook her head. "Too much on my mind."

They sat in companionable silence for a while, the cool night air carrying the scent of possibility.

"You know," Jax finally said, "when you first showed up, I thought you were going to be the death of us all."

Sam laughed softly. "I thought the same thing."

Jax turned to her, his expression serious. "But you saved us, Sam. You saved Charming. Don't ever forget that."

Sam felt tears prick her eyes. "I don't know if I can ever make up for the things I've done."

"Maybe you can't," Jax replied. "But you can choose who you want to be from here on out. That's what matters."

As the first light of dawn began to streak the sky, Sam felt a sense of peace settle over her. The shadows that had haunted her for so long were finally receding.

The next morning, Sam stood in the Teller-Morrow lot, a small bag containing her new life slung over her shoulder. The Sons gathered around her, faces a mix of emotion.

Clay stepped forward first, his handshake firm. "You ever need anything, you call. You're family now, whether I like it or not."

One by one, the Sons said their goodbyes. Tig's hug was bone-crushing, Chibs pressed a kiss to her cheek, and Opie's nod held a world of unspoken understanding.

Gemma approached last, pressing a small package into Sam's hands. "A little something to remember us by. And to remind you of who you really are."

Finally, it was Jax's turn. He pulled Sam into a tight embrace. "Stay safe out there," he murmured. "And remember, you've always got a home here if you need it."

As Sam climbed into the waiting cab, she took one last look at the group that had become her unlikely family. They stood together, a united front against whatever darkness might come.

The cab pulled away, Charming receding in the rearview mirror. Sam allowed herself one moment of grief for the life she was leaving behind. Then, squaring her shoulders, she turned her gaze to the road ahead.

In her lap, she opened the package Gemma had given her. Inside was a small silver pendant in the shape of a crow in flight. Attached was a note in Gemma's flowing script: "Spread your wings, baby. The shadows can't touch you now."

Sam clasped the necklace around her neck, feeling its weight settle against her skin. It was a reminder of where she'd been, and a promise of where she might go.

As Charming disappeared behind her, Sam felt a surge of something she hadn't experienced in years: hope. The road ahead was uncertain, full of potential pitfalls and challenges. But for the first time in a long time, she was facing that uncertainty on her own terms.

The shadows of her past would always be there, a part of her story. But they no longer defined her. She was Sam Crois Faith, survivor, friend, and now, finally, free.

The cab sped on, carrying her towards a future bright with possibility. And somewhere in the distance, barely audible over the hum of the engine, came the rumble of motorcycles – a reminder that family, in all its forms, was never truly left behind.

The End...

[sweet-self-indulgence]

What do you think are the boys’ favorite sex positions (topping and bottoming) with femboy Mika?

This one comes with some basic cartoons (by graphic designer Katie Buckleitner) because trying to describe sex positions in words is so hard. I had a lot of thoughts on the subject, so enjoy more than you asked for!

James

Dom top

Super into hitting it from behind

Would default to ordering Mika to bend over a desk/bed/counter

Looks into anal sex positions since he’s worried about being inexperienced with men

“This one shows promise. It’s supposed to be good for height differences as well as offering good leverage”

Mika is such a mix of embarrassed, touched, and turned on

Of course they try it out immediately

In general, likes poses that have Mika’s back to him

It’s part power play that he’s not ready to deal with and part not liking to show his vulnerable side

His treatment of femboy Mika is the most similar to cannon Mika

Erik

Mostly a top

Erik would eat ass so good

Mika’s really into it, but would have hard time asking for it

He’s grabbing Mika’s legs, and thrusting into him while praise pours out of his mouth

“you’re so gorgeous and open for me”

Likes being the one to please a partner rather than being ridden

When’s he’s bottoming he’s a bit of a pillow princess

Likes lying face-down ass-up in a bed

Shoves his face into a pillow because he can’t deal with emotions during sex

Sam

Top preference

If Mika manages to convince him to bottom, that’s when the freaky shit comes out of nowhere

 “Fine, but if you’re going to fuck me do it right” and pulls out a very non-human dildo

Seeing Mika’s face is really important to him

Probably something to do with making sure he’s ok.

Is VERY self-conscious about hurting him

Sam’s even more cautious about hurting femboy Mika than cannon Mika

Is the most likely to default to missionary

‘if it ain’t broke don’t fix it’ mentality

Really likes having Mika in his lap

So sensual poses like this come up frequently

Matthew

Vers!

Likes to try lots of positions

Sex usually involves switching positions several times

Very verbal and a little bossy during sex

“No, you gotta put your knees like this! Oh, fuck yeah, that’s it!”

He’s the most into receiving oral sex

Has the least hangups about sex and is willing to be a little rougher with Mika

It helps that they’re almost exactly the same body size

Anyways! Several favorites include:

Doggy style (Matthew’s favorite penetrating position)

Cowboy (Matthew’s favorite receiving position)

Variations of standing with a leg perched on something (Mika’s favorite for teasing Matthew)

Damien

Bottom

He’s very content to have sexual encounters that do not culminate in penetrative sex

Damien has some sexual trauma but that’s another post

Most likely to 69

Likes the reciprocal nature of it

Doesn’t need to talk as much so that’s less of a concern

Likes giving hand jobs and fingering

Likes receiving fingering and ass-eating

Favorite sex position is cuddling

Mika is the big spoon

Goes non-verbal and just melts against Mika

Mika finds it incredibly endearing

[awesomeferret10]

In your family concept, did Ian and Anthony divorce? Did he see the kids while they were split up? Did they go stay with him?

They were teenagers (16) when they accidentally (trans masc Ian woo) had their eldest (Olivia who’s now like 17) and tried to stick it out for a few years but young parents and bad communication made it difficult so they made the mutual decision when she was 6 to split.

Anthony did his best to visit her a few times a week and call to say goodnight every night but Olivia was stubborn and absolutely not having it. Anthony had been the one too move out of the house so she was determined to think that he was the cause of the family breaking up.

They did family therapy every week but eventually the family therapist basically told Anthony to give her space and take some time to work on the mess that was his own mental health.

So Anthony moved a few hours away and only reached out on Olivia’s birthday and holidays (always sending gifts and his phone number with an offer for her to call or FaceTime him that she never took him up on)

Little did either Ian or Anthony know when they broke up, Ian had literally just gotten pregnant with Damien and Shayne. He did not realize he was pregnant for the next couple of months until after Anthony moved away. When he did realize he told him but the two of them made the decision that since the kids would never know him they’d keep low contact unless they made the choice to speak to Anthony when they got older and Ian would always let them know that was an option.

So that continued for a little with Olivia being 7 when Damien and Shayne were born and Anthony sending money as unofficial child support.

Within two years Ian has Tommy with someone else (this time on purpose, he moved a little too fast and this guy was a scumbag (human version of defy lol) but at least 23 year old Ian is in fact now aware of condoms)

He continued raising the four of them for two more years alone.

Until Anthony moved back.

He reached out to Ian for updates on the kids (which Ian had previously been sending occasionally along with pictures and videos over the years) and they begin meeting up in person every week to talk about the kids and eventually, other things.

They begin reconnecting as best friends.

Olivia (now 10) notices her Dad is a lot happier and that every Wednesday when her and her siblings are picked up from school (and in Tommy’s case daycare, he goes Mondays and Wednesdays to give her Dad a break) he’s a lot happier and less stressed than usual.

She asks him what’s up and thinking she’s old enough he gently explains every Wednesday he talks to Anthony.

This makes Olivia reconsider some stances and so Olivia accepts the request to FaceTime a few months after Anthony moved back.

She begins having visitation every Saturday. Ian is a little wary about Shayne and Damien meeting a parent they’ve never really even known existed (although Ian had done his best to not be bitter and tell childhood stories of his best friend and often let his parents talk about Anthony too all the kids).

Eventually Ian and Anthony fall in love again. They really have to work on building that trust up but they do and from there it moves a little too fast.

Ian takes his time introducing Anthony too all 4 kids as a romantic partner (the one thing he’s appropriately slow and cautious about) but once that’s done and the kids are comfortable with Anthony, they move in together fairly quickly and then pretty soon after that have Chanse and Angela (on purpose, 26 year old Anthony knows how to put on a condom now) and when the two of them are about 6 years old Ian and Anthony get married.

All their children are involved in the ceremony (Chanse and Angela are flower boy and girl, Shayne, and Damien, are ring bearers, Olivia is Ian’s best man, and Tommy is Anthony’s)

I also like too think that these two are literally incapable of not creating way too big of a family and within a few years they also have Erin, Nicole, Arasha, and Trevor. Just. A huge ass family. The last couple of kids are with a surrogate because now they have the money for that with the combined income and also the money for Ian to get bottom surgery.

The timeline is messier than it would have been if I actually thought about this when making the og post but for winging it this is basically my best idea of what the hell went down with Ian and Anthony messy ass family.

[isa-sketches]

Cain Second spawn Role: Assassin, torturer, and attack dog for anyone The Mistress points at. Bloodpowers: Shadowstep, Blink, Shatter Short history: Cain came out of the grave perfectly. Strong, fast, and agile. Everything the mistress wanted and more. The mistress, now with an enormous amount of wealth after decades of building up her blood trade suddenly saw the need for someone to take out competition, those who could not pay their debts and those who looked at her wrong. Cain spent years as her favored spawn, creating a violent rivalry with Raphael. Yet he found delight in the newfound power as a vampire and his status. It was as if he shed the label as human the moment he crawled out of the dirt. He cannot remember much of his life as a human. He was buried with another male and shared a grave until they both were reborn and placed in the same cell to wait out the feral state of a young vampire. Unknown to The Mistress, two males in a feral state will lead to bloodshed and when she opened the cell door weeks later, she found Cain victorious in a pile of flesh and blood. The other vampires in the court are cautious around him, he has not grown close to any of the other members, and the human servants fear him. Cain was never particularly interested in The Mistress, he relished being favored for the benefits it gave him. Yet the more time passed the more he felt empty inside. To him, a search for something is gnawing at his very existence. What that longing is remains unknown to him. After rejecting The Mistress's advances one too many times, she loses interest in him for a short time and creates the third spawn. He continues to obediently work for The Mistress and never fails a job until the introduction of Mara to the court turns his existence upside down. Unbeknown to a large part of the court, Cain has been urged by the mistress to stay away from touching others he doesn't intend to kill. Which is why he nearly shatters inside when Mara suddenly gives him a friendly touch on the arm. The first friendly touch in a hundred years. Slowly Mara melts his icy front when she shows him kindness without expecting anything in return and Cain, not used to this kind of regular kindness tells Mara he now owes her a favor. This begins a long string of favors owed and favors paid between the two. Personality: At the beginning of the story, Cain is withdrawn, silent, and focused with a slightly unhinged dark side. He detests those he looks upon as weak and lesser beings. He also has a more mischievous side, where he enjoys banter between himself and Mara. Later he grows closer to Damien as well. Opening up more parts of his locked personality.