#empty mirror queue

[ofbakerst]

[mattis-flo]

I gotta know KAKDKD does Mirror Venus have feelings for Reya? I am very curious ahehe

FR THO YFSAJVFJ She probably does x'0 tho she may or may not be a little obsessive and wouldn't leave reya's side until she's told to leave by her or venus hfdvjbfhj

[fxrina]

tag dump

[raitonsfw]

𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜 | 𝚎𝚍𝚘𝚐𝚊𝚠𝚊 𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚙𝚘 ꨄ

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: Ranpo wasn’t supposed to raid the ADA’s lockers for snacks, but he does anyway. When he opens your locker and spots an enclosed box of Valentine's Day chocolate, he immediately snatched it. Of course, why would he bother to read the ingredients? Cocoa butter, milk, sugar, an aphrodisiac supplement... What could go wrong? Obviously everything; you didn’t know Ranpo was such a whiny bitch when he was horny.

warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, fem!reader, horny!ranpo, slight switch!ranpo (subby then dom), accidental aphrodisiac/drug usage, banter, begging, whining & whimpering, humiliation (ranpo has to ask reader to help him), masturbation, blowjob, ranpo’s a fucking head pusher, teasing, fingering (if you squint), implied sexual intercourse, pet names (good girl), he’s like a dog in heat frfr (or rut, whatever floats your boat), ranpo’s a bit manipulative at the very end, reader works at the ADA, reader has a crush on ranpo & kinda simps for him silently, dazai mention (typical suicide mention & he’s the idiot that started this shit lol)

a/n: hello helloo, my queue posted early but imma keep it up anyways. my lil valentine’s day event starts now (albeit early), with ranpo edogawa leading it with some sexy v-day drug consumption! my first valentine to you until thursday, feb 1st! 💌 wc: 3k. v-day m.list | m.list

divider credit: @hitobaby & @firefly-graphics

“Ranpo, what are you eating?” This was a common phrase that the Armed Detective Agency yelled, much like when you yell at a puppy when they have something in their mouth that they’re not supposed to have. Ranpo’s cheeks poked out slightly as he turned towards you, his head tilting in confusion. He was sitting on top of one of the desks, lounging about like normal but with something noticeably different in his hands; instead of the usual candy he munched on, it was a tiny red hearted box of… chocolate?

You had already started walking towards him with a bit of a rush calculated into your step, eyeing the familiar box of chocolates that were abandoned now on his lap as he leaned back. He popped another piece of chocolate into his mouth as you recognized the wretched package. He had stolen your aphrodisiac chocolate Dazai had jokingly gifted you for Valentine’s Day. “Ranpo!”

“What? You shouldn’t leave chocolate lying around when I’m here.” He said in a matter of factly tone, reaching for another one. You grabbed his wrist quickly to prevent him from eating another, throwing the near empty box in the trash. “What’d you do that for?!”

“Ranpo, those weren’t yours! And they weren’t lying around, they were in my locker!” You pulled him off of the desk by his hand and he stumbled into you slightly as he gained his footing on the floor. “You didn’t even look at the ingredients.”

“You didn’t have to trash ‘em!” He pouted at you, looking back at the trash can with an overexaggerated whine. “Why would I have to look at the ingredients? It’s chocolate.” 

“Because– they were drugged.” You barged into the restroom with him, making sure it was unoccupied. You left him in the middle to wander and he immediately took a seat on the long counter adorned with sinks. The lengthy mirror stared towards the back of him and you could see out of the corner of your eye that he was swinging his feet as you locked the door. 

“Drugged? Drugged with what?” Ranpo asked, a bit too calm. It’s like this has happened and he’s not very surprised. You’ll ask about that later, right now your main priority was getting him water and a nice place to sweat it out for the next few hours– or day considering he ate almost the entire box.

“Aphrodisiacs.” 

“Isn’t that the drug that like… stimulates you?” Ranpo interrupted your thoughts, stretching his arms out with a yawn. How was this man tired in such a constrained situation? “I don’t feel anything.” 

Maybe you should go back and read the amount that’s housed in each chocolate, you could figure out the percentage exactly and then you'd be able to gauge just how much time he would need alone. If you could get him out of the door towards his dorm, of course; that was another issue as you don’t know how fast he consumed the hearts.

“Oh trust me, you will.” You huffed out, mentally checking off everything you needed to do in order to get him out of the office. You needed to collect your paperwork so you could do it while making sure Ranpo didn’t keel over from the dosage and acquire a water bottle in case it's too late to get him to the dorms. “I’m going to get you water, stay right here okay?” 

“Sure, bring me some more snacks while you’re at it.” He leaned back against the mirror with his hands tucked behind his head, crossing his leg over the other with a sly wink at you; perhaps the only time you’d see his green eyes bright before they darkened like a storm. “Don’t keep me waiting long.” 

Fucking idiot.

As you scampered about trying to find a water bottle for Ranpo, you gathered up your belongings and wrapped your head around the situation. You were going to thoroughly kill Dazai if he hasn’t done so already himself, the thought of poisoning your coworker with a shit ton of sexual stimulants weighing heavily on your mind. You knew Ranpo most likely wouldn’t care who you got it from or why you even had it, he would probably brush it off as some weird shit you’re into. Realization suddenly hit you like a million bricks; you didn’t know him sexually, so you had no idea how exactly the aphrodisiacs would affect him.

You were close with Ranpo, but not on this level. 

You also had a slight crush on him ever since you started working with him; he had bothered you for treats on the very first day as you sat down in your office chair. You haven’t even had the chance to set up your desk, trinkets filling the box in your arms as he wheeled over in his chair to you. You liked his personality and gave him a small piece of candy you had stashed in your pocket, which was the worst mistake of your life because now he toyed with you every chance he got; whether you had snacks, candy, or a sweet drink in your hand, it was a ‘can i have some?’ 

“Ranpo?” You knocked on the bathroom door as you returned from the depths of the office, relieved to hear quiet shuffling about the tiny room.

Your relief turned to dread though when you heard his voice answer you back in a tiny whimper. “D-Don’t come in.” 

Oh, you were too late…

“I have water for you.” You said through the door, trying to bask around the uncomfortable situation that’s handed itself to you. Of course it would hit him while you were trying to find things that could help him get through it; why couldn’t the drug have waited a few more minutes?

Ranpo didn’t answer and your mind wandered, what if that dosage was lethal? Dazai would have yet another crime on his fruitful list that he so explicitly told you about, but now you’re an accomplice because the twisted chocolates were in your fucking locker. You tried to open the door, but he had locked it behind you when you had left. You could hear faint breathing on the other side, but it was too hard to make out if he was saying anything. 

“Y/N…” Ranpo managed to speak up after a few moments, quiet desperation overtaking his voice. “Why’d you have that type of chocolate in your locker anyway?” 

Oh, so he does care. It must be serious then. You hung your head against the door, a quiet sigh escaping your lips as you contemplated whether to tell him why or not. 

“Here, let me in. I can help.” You offered, gathering up the things in your hands a bit more neatly as you tried to get him to open the door. You didn’t have a choice but to stay there with him and your paperwork was sitting stale in your hands, the time ticking away and your deadlines getting closer.

“Help with what? I-I got it under control.” Ranpo stammered at the idea and you realize it sounded like you meant something else.

“Not that. I have snacks, you idiot.” 

He opened the door a few seconds after, his cape had been pulled around him towards the front of his lap and he briskly walked back to where he was sitting on the sink’s counter. You could already see the hardened bulge of his cock within the mess of the fabric that covered it and his face had become increasingly red with a blush you’ve never seen on him before. His legs were pried open on the counter and he looked so so desperate, even as he tried not to show it, he failed miserably through the small pants that huffed out of him through every syllable he managed out.

You set the snacks near him on the counter, taking in the sight of his flushed skin peeking out from underneath his clothing. He glanced towards you and your eyes immediately met the mirror in front of you, a blush creeping up on your own face. “Do you want me to stay here with you?” 

“C-Can you sit outside the door and make sure no one comes in?” Ranpo stuttered, looking away from you as he squirmed against the counter. You felt the sudden rush of heat between your legs and you tried not to stumble in front of him as you walked back towards the door. God, what a dream it would be for him to ask for your help but you knew he didn’t like you like that; he would’ve shown interest by now or have been begging on his knees for you to touch him. What a sight that would’ve been…

As you sat amongst the door in the middle of the hallway, you didn’t hear him eating his snacks which was dreadfully odd. He didn’t talk to you through the door either, the man was quiet for once; not a word spoken since you left the bathroom. It must’ve hit him really hard and all you could think about is what if he actually touched himself? What if he was pumping his cock to the thought of who knows who right now, behind the thin door that separated you too? 

You so wished you could hear the potent whimpers that slipped from his mouth as he sucked his tie between his teeth, careful to not let you hear the wretched sounds. The way that his chest would rise with heavy breaths as he went ahead and pleasured himself to get rid of the ache, the strain of his cock from those damned aphrodisiacs he was so unfortunate enough to eat. You could barely sit straight, the door awfully cold against your back as the heat emanated from you, pleading for you to touch yourself with him.

You heard one of the stall doors in the bathroom slam shut or maybe open, you didn’t know but it spooked you out of the dirty thoughts that crossed your mind. Of course you would stray off track as you sat there, thinking about your coworker– your fucking coworker. Christ, get a grip.

“Please, please, please help me Y/N.” Ranpo called out and your heart skipped a beat, taking back everything you just preached to yourself. “I can’t take it anymore, I don’t know what to do.” 

“Help you? You must be out of your mind.” You mocked back, but in reality all you’ve been thinking about was that mental image engraved in your head; he must be dripping precum by now and you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together to keep your slick from pooling into the middle of your panties.

“Come here, please Y/N...” He whined out, a quiet moan bouncing off the walls of the bathroom and you’ve never moved so fast in your life. It felt like you yourself had eaten one of the aphrodisiacs, how fucking needy you were for him now just because he asked for you, no– whined for you.

You opened the door, your eyes meeting the empty spot of where he was previously sitting. Then you noticed the last stall’s door open and you rounded the corner to peek inside. When you did so, you did not expect to see Ranpo fisting his cock over, his back leaning against the wall of the stall with his knees nearly buckling underneath him. 

“This is so fucking embarrassing…” Ranpo muttered out as he noticed your presence, but his hand didn’t stop pumping his cock and he let out a quiet whimper. “Y/N, help me? Shit, please–”

“Are you su–” You started to say but you were cut off by some more of his obnoxious rambling, albeit it was slightly hot as his voice knocked up a higher pitch with desperation seeping through.

“Yes, please– fuck, I just need someone to–” Ranpo gasped out, his head nearly slamming back against the wall as he bucked up into his hand. White spurts of cum painted the floor as he came (probably again), his face screwed up in pleasure with a lengthy moan. “Ah–! I need you.”

He needed you… What did you do to deserve this? Not that you were complaining, everything went according to fate in your eyes as you realized he entrusted you to take care of him during this uncomfortable situation. 

“I’m not going to get on my knees inside this tiny stall, go sit back on the counter.” You said in an even tone, trying your best to not lose your cool. You followed behind him as he hopped onto the sink, his cock still leaking with more precum as it stood proudly against the pudge of his clothed tummy.

On top of admiring that, you finally noticed his outfit; or the lack of it anyway. Ranpo’s black vest was nowhere to be seen, his light tie had come undone, and the top buttons of his white collared shirt were ripped from their threads, some hanging off loosely. He looked absolutely mangled, sweat gleaming on every inch of his skin and you knew you’d both probably never talk about this again– best to enjoy it for the time being.

“Shouldn’t have eaten those chocolates, huh?” You tutted, pushing his legs open a bit more so you fit snugly in between them. You crouched down with your knees closed, eye level with his cock and you nearly choked when you saw it twitch.

“S-Shut up and help me.” Ranpo whined out and you silently grabbed at his cock, running your hand up it. He openly groaned at the sensation, thrusting up into your hand with defeated relief. His head had tipped back, his hat nearly slipping off and you took the courtesy to reach up and place it on the counter. 

“Want me to suck it?” You looked at him through your eyelashes, teasing him lightly as your breath fanned over his cock. “Or you wanna fuck me?” 

“Both… God, please Y/N, put your mouth on it already…” One of Ranpo’s hands threaded into your hair and pushed you towards his cock and you immediately shut up, taking him into the warmth of your mouth. He was bitter and slick against your tongue, the precum dissolving against it as you lapped at it. A heady moan escaped him as you swallowed him down, his thighs trembling underneath your palm and you felt his fingers grip your hair. 

“Feels so good, shit, please keep going–” Ranpo groaned, his eyes slinking down to where your mouth hollowed out around him and he couldn’t help but push you down a bit and you gagged around him– he was thick and it was hard to breathe as he started to thrust up shallowly into your wet mouth. You braced yourself on both of his thighs now, letting him fuck up into your mouth and with watery eyes, you glanced up at him again. 

Ranpo’s entire body was on fire as you complied to his thrusts, your throat slack for his cock and he couldn’t help it– as he saw one of your hands start to unbutton the top of your dress pants and disappear into the lace of your panties, his hips jutted still and he came instantly into your mouth without a warning. 

“Fuck, atta girl…” He drew out in a long moan as he watched you swallow everything he had to give, pleasure shooting through him and his vision went a little hazy as you pulled off of him with a wet slurp. Ranpo’s eyes were still glassy with lust when he opened them, the aphrodisiac wearing down slightly but not by much. As he caught his breath, he wiped the excess that dribbled out of your mouth when you swallowed, his fingers caressing the side of your cheek. “Should’ve asked for your help sooner…”

“You came so fast…” Your voice was raw and you coughed a bit afterwards, a quiet chuckle answering you.

“Thanks to the sexy chocolate you had on hand.” Ranpo mentioned with a smirk and you pressed down on his thighs as you stood up, your legs nearly giving out from the position you were in. You fell against him, his hands coming to catch you by your waist and you realized you were close to his face now. He looked considerably better, he wasn’t nearly panting as hard now but there was still a prominent flush to his cheeks. 

“Which you shouldn’t of fucking eaten in the first place.” You retorted, pouting at him with puffed out cheeks and he laughed, his hands dragging down to the plump of your ass. You let out a surprised sound as he squeezed gently, looking you dead in the eyes still.

“Oh, boo hoo. Look where it got you.” He teased, his fingers hooking through the loops of your dress pants. “Aren’t you happy you finally got your hands on me?” 

Ranpo pulled them down in one swift motion and you blushed profusely, looking away from him quickly as his fingers swiped through the mess of your cunt. He grabbed you curtly by your chin, making you look at him again and you shook with pleasure as one of his fingers curled up into you. You moaned around your words as they spilled out of your mouth in a rushed tone. “W-What are you talking about? Ranpo…” 

“It doesn’t take my deduction skills to know you like me~ Now, why don’t you ride me like a good girl? You’d like that, huh?” He breathed out against your lips as he pressed them against yours, slipping his tongue inside swiftly whilst adding another finger to the swell of your cunt and earning a wanton moan from you.

Ranpo’s other hand made you grip his cock again, which was still rock hard against the soft cotton of his shirt. His bigger hand practically covered yours in one fell swoop as he made you start to pump him again, quiet whimpering falling against the frame of your lips. “It’s your fault, y’know… you should take care of me.”

This was going to be a long work day.

a/n: wanna get tagged in future writing posts? join my taglist!

[dearharriet]

I Want Your Video; Steve Harrington x Reader 📼

summary: steve always takes care of you on a night out.

word count: 1.4K

warnings: drinking, smoking, swearing, fem!reader, fluff

a/n: inspired by a djo song with the same title. i’m such a sucker for steve <3

“I ‘ave to go t’the bathrooom,” you tell Steve, holding tight to the hot skin of his bicep. In a drunken stupor, your thumb swipes sweetly over it once, unable to resist.

His other arm, the one you’re not holding to, has your clutch tucked under it. It’s unclear if he’s being gentlemanly or if he’s monitoring your intake. He certainly didn’t take Nancy’s or Robin’s. Or Argyle’s belly bag.

“‘Kay, be safe,” Steve says, patting your elbow. He looks a touch hot, red-cheeked and a little damp around the edges. Dancing must’ve made a mess of you if he looks so disheveled from just standing and talking. You furrow your brows.

“Come with me?” Pouting, your grip slides down to take his hand, but he pulls away.

“Uh—maybe Nance or Rob should do that.”

He says it like such a request is verboten. You look back towards Nance and Robin, relentlessly moving on the dance floor.

“They won’t go with meeee—“ you whine, and then simper when he sighs in defeat.

Steve steers you toward the stairwell that leads down to the toilets. While you weave through the crowds, he stays behind you, a steadying force at your back.

The stairwell is much cooler than the bar. It’s a relief to suck in air that’s not muggy with sweat and beer. At the bottom of the dingey stairs a couple is draped over one another talking closely, and nearer to the bathroom there’s a trio of people sharing a smoke and waiting. Steve and you take up residence just next to them. The concrete wall is cooling on your hot back and it elicits a sigh.

“Having fun?” Steve asks, facing you with his arms crossed and a shoulder leant on the wall. Your clutch is shoved in his front pocket like a miniature Bible.

“Uh-huh.” You nod with exaggerated windedness. “Wish you’d dance with me, though.”

The bathroom door clicks open and a guy comes out, nodding awkwardly at all seven heads turned his way. The queue dwindles to three again—plus Steve, who is smiling at you apologetically.

“Nah, you wouldn’t wanna see me dance. I tend to intimidate people with how skilled I am.”

A laugh bubbles out of you. “Ohhh, right,” you nod. “Must be hard, having all that talent. And you’re s’busy keepin’ me sober.” You speak so fast the words slur on the way out, and Steve chuckles teasingly.

“I’m doin’ a shit job, aren’t I? You’re in a state already.” He reaches out and brushes your arm when he says this, his knuckles leaving goosebumps behind them. When he pulls his hand back he’s grown more sincere. “Who said I’m keeping you sober? I’ve let you drink all you want.”

“You let me,” you tease, “But you’re keeping my wallet. And you’ve been watching me all night.”

“Yeah, well.” He looks defensive. “Someone’s gotta have your back.”

The bathroom door opens again, and the line shrinks even more. You pick the conversation right back up.

“What ‘bout Nance and Rob? And the guys?” Turning toward Steve, your arms cross so you’re mirroring him. “They’ve all got their wallets.”

“They’ve got each other, too.” Steve playfully swings at your shoulder, and you take the hit willingly. “Who’s got you, huh, rockstar?”

A smile splits your face with glee at the nickname. You step closer and you’re about to answer—you, you’ve got me—when Steve clears his throat.

You frown, and Steve smiles, juts his chin toward the bathroom door. It’s empty, you realize, and Steve and you are alone. It seems the third member of the bathroom trio was only company, like Steve.

“You know what to do,” Steve mutters, and you reluctantly peel away from the wall.

“Oh, wait!” You whip around and offer a hand out for your wallet. Steve gives it over wordlessly, and then you’re locking the door behind you.

As suspected, you look a mess. Your hair is frizzed and a touch tangled. Dark mauve eyeliner has smoked itself out—all over your undereye—and your cheeks are red and dampened with sweat.

Despite it all, you feel good. You brought your clutch so you could touch up your lipstick, and you do, but you don’t need to. It’s almost like what Steve said; You’re a rockstar. You look like one, anyway.

After washing your hands, the only thing you do to your appearance is fluff your hair up even more, playing up this smudged version of your original look.

It feels impossibly easy to grin at Steve once you emerge from the bathroom. Steve laughs.

“Why do I feel like you got more drunk while you were in there?”

You tighten your smile primly. “Not drunker, just better looking.”

Steve pulls his brows together almost painfully, his features unreadable. You saunter over to him anyways, stepping into his bubble. His full back is pressed to the wall now, a leg kicked up, and you’re as close as you can get without being thigh-to-knee. Steve’s nervous eyes scan you.

“Want me to take that?” Steve points to your clutch. You nod, but ignore the hand he has waiting for you. Feeling bold, you reach around him and tuck it into his back pocket. Your chests meet, and then crush closer as you both gasp. Pulling away feels suddenly impossible, so you don't, and Steve doesn’t make you. He licks his lips.

“Y’didn’t lock the door,” he mumbles, but your brain jumbles as his hand smooths over your ribs.

“Hmm?” You can’t be bothered with words, feeling more intoxicated by his touch than the three drinks in your system.

Steve rubs a small circle over your side. “The bathroom door,” he says softly, “it stayed on vacant the whole time.”

Oh, yeah. It had. Your mouth pops open, and then you shoot him a wry grin.

“Whoops.”

Steve’s responding head shake is exasperated but fond.

“You trust me too much,” he sighs.

It’s not a joke. A string of insecurity holds the sentence together, and you know what it is. It’s easy to see that he knows, too. Moving closer, committing to the embrace you’ve found yourself in, you pin Steve with a sincere stare.

“Do I?” It’s excessively rhetorical, stilling any rebuttal he has. Steve purses his lips together, and then glances at yours. You toe up ever so slightly, in anticipation. Both of Steve’s hands are on you now, though they’re holding your arms, keeping you at bay.

“We can’t,” Steve whispers, glancing at the stairwell, and you realize the bar is still upstairs with all of your friends. They’d probably come looking soon, vying for another round, another dance. You look to the stairwell too, and then to the other side of the hall, and back to Steve.

“Yet here we are.” The murmur is sultry, luring Steve closer, tempting his hand to wind into the soft hair at the nape of your neck.

“Here we are,” Steve repeats, and then your lips are abruptly too occupied by his to respond.

Steve’s hand that’s not gripping your neck winds over your shoulders, keeping you close. His nose crushes to your cheek as he drags his mouth over yours again and again.

A part of you—the same part that’s observing how good of a kisser he is—can’t believe you’re mouth to mouth with the Steve Harrington from high school. The other half, probably the truer half, knows it’s been a long time coming. Years of patching up and skirting around each other, protecting each other because you had to, and now taking care of each other because you wanted to. Because no one else would.

When you separate, you’re both breathless and effervescent. Steve is staring at you like you hung the moon.

“You’re so beautiful,” he coos, his thumb caressing the rosy apple of your cheek. Steve has a way of marrying sincerity and charm, and it needles at your heart ruthlessly.

You beam and kiss him again as a thank you.

“Think you might be glowing,” he continues, speaking right into your mouth. His teeth clack against yours as the kiss grows too smiley for its own good.

“You look pretty, too,” you goad, tracing his lips. “Cherry’s a good look on you.”

Steve pinches his brow and then notices your smeared lipstick.

“Aw, come on.”

You laugh and help him wipe it off, but when you return to the bar later, Argyle still complements Steve’s beautiful makeup.

+

thank you for reading ! my requests are open :)

masterlist

[bunny584]

For I Have Sinned ୨୧ Chapter III

“Abstain from sinful desires, which wage war against your soul.” 1 Peter 2:11

Priest Geto has unfaltering faith in his hands. They have traversed deadly straits. Blossomed gardens. Taken and given life.

Can he trust his hands to mold you for another man?

Pairing: Geto x Female reader

Art credit: Grartss on tumblr/insta

A/N: someone needs to peel me away from I wanna Be Yours x Artic Monkeys and the third scene. That song fits TOO perfectly to my ears. I hope this chapter edges you just as much as it did me.

Previous | Next

CHAPTER III: Courtside

Duchess, 

Allow me to apologize. It was inappropriate to end our session so abruptly. 

You have been on my mind. It will serve your marriage best for you and the Duke Ahriman to pursue individual counseling prior to pre-marital counseling. 

I cannot guide you to love one another, your hearts will make that determination. But I can help unravel your layers; to allow for independent growth. Having a strong sense of self, above all,  is paramount for successful matrimony.

Think on this proposal. If you both accept, we will proceed. 

Warmly, 

Suguru Geto

Suguru Geto. 

His name tastes just as rich as it reads. 

Elegant. 

Too ethereal to be bound by ink and manila paper.

A name like that is meant to be said out loud. Shouted from the mountain top. Meant to be worshipped. 

Praised. 

“Darling? Are you decent?” Ezra calls from the other side of your heavy chamber doors. 

You flicker down to your robe. Technically you aren’t. But your continued attempts to avoid your betrothed — conscious or not — remain futile. 

Especially, today. Your formal introduction to court. The future Duchess Ahriman. You will be fused to Ezra’s side for hours on end. Grateful to have been bestowed the honor. An honor you will spend your life upholding. 

Pro Deo et patria. 

For God and Country. 

“Yes, I’m decent.” Hoping whatever he needs can be addressed from behind your barrier. 

“May I, my love?” 

A bitter scoff glides down your throat, but your words seep sweet. “Yes of course!”

Arella, who is diligently arranging your formal attire on the golden rack, fetters over to welcome the Duke.

Instinctively, your hand tightens the silk knot as he steps into view in your mirror. Ezra’s emerald gaze is warmer than the Grecian sun. Excitement buzzing off of his boyish grin and short strides to your vanity. 

The Priest’s letter finds its away into your pocket, just as strong hands land on your shoulders. 

Ezra didn’t notice. And why would he? The letter isn’t illegal.

“How are you feeling?” Like plush Evergreens withstanding all seasons, Ezra peers into you and roots you in place.

He’s unwavering, your fiancé. He doesn’t yield so easily. 

“Are you ready for tonight?” 

“Not like I have a choice in the matter.” 

Almost instantly you regret the response. The Duke offers you a pained smile and tender kiss on the crown. 

A sudden gust of wind brings the bouquet of fresh Dahlias to everyone’s attention. Ezra rubs a soft petal between his fingers. 

“These are outstanding, darling. Who brought them to you?”

Before a half truth drips off your tongue, Arella speaks up, taking stride toward where you sit. 

“I picked them this morning. From the garden.”

She grazes over your empty, half parted mouth.  Planting her own kiss on your warm canvas.

“We should get ready for the ball, yes little Dove?” 

Ezra’s good natured laugh overflows. He raises both palms in feigned retreat.

“I suppose that is my queue. I’ll take my leave.” Your handsome fiance keeps his word. Shutting the heavy doors behind him. 

“Arella!” Your head whips around to face your beautiful handmaiden. 

She is swanlike. Coordinating the intimate pieces of your gown. Not another word on her lips but a whole diary on her face. 

“Why did you lie for me?” Your hands steady her busy ones. 

Arella’s voice is small enough to fit through the cracks in the walls. 

“My allegiance is to you and only you, little Dove.”

 · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 

“Under His Eye, Father.”

“Under His Eye, Rhea.” 

“Blessed Be The Fruit, Father.”

Of course. The greeting used when women are trying for child, the handmaiden chose to use with him. Suguru offers a polite, but pointedly distant smile.

Since his arrival to the compound, there hasn’t been a shortage of high court handmaids and the women they tend to ‘greeting’ him in a similar way. 

Well within the unspoken rules of engagement, but a message served loud and clear. 

“May The Lord Open, Seren.”  Suguru returns the pleasantry as scripted. 

The pretty maiden smiles like a Cheshire kitten. Taking her position in line behind the clergymen. Suguru keeps his gaze ahead. Remaining neutral in the midst of hushed giggles and whispered praises. 

His index finger wires beneath the formal collar. Tonight is the first of a long line of celebrations he will have to stomach. 

A commemoration of a new contract between families. A new marriage of countries. A long awaited treaty as precarious as the peak of Mauna Kea. 

And as the appointed Chaplain he is tasked with praying over each event. Handing out blessings to the soon-to-be-wed and those that wish them no harm. 

He’s already exhausted.

The processional begins and all extraneous chatter settles to the ground. Just in time for you and the Duke to step into view. At the height of the sprawling staircase, there you stand. 

Regal. 

Breathtaking.

Not a single strand out of place. The rigid corset digs into the small of your waist — accenting the feminine swell of your hips. Sage satin drips off the rolls and hills of your mind-altering lines. 

Curve and dip. 

Curve and dip. 

Your figure could render the most veteran fishermen seasick. 

Then your eyes collide with his and Suguru nearly falls backward. Knocking more air out of his lungs than any sea storm ever has. Ten times more deadly than the waves he rode along Drake’s Passage.

The infamous strait holds legend amongst seamen, old and new. The lethal dance between the South Atlantic, Pacific and Southern oceans gives way to the notorious Ship’s Graveyard.

At 60 degrees south of the Equator, Suguru’s father tweaked his usual saying before he dove off their vessel. 

“Below 40, there are no laws. Below 50, there is no God. Don’t go trying to find One, Son.” 

Suguru strips his eyes away from you. Currently plunging well below 60 degrees south, he will drown in you if he keeps gawking up like that.

Focus, Suguru. 

Lines from tonight’s production begin circulating in the Chaplain’s mind. Every moment rehearsed down to the breath. The night is already stifling. And he still has to look you in the eye and bid you a lifetime of love and prosperity with Ezra Ahriman. 

He’ll have to repent for the lie tomorrow. 

Patent leather dress shoes echo a path into the ballroom. Suguru and the rest of the priesthood fall behind the last line of noblemen. His stomach suddenly plummets lower than its usual residence. 

Public speaking isn’t the issue. 

A room full of eyes trained on his every word has never shaken his nerves. 

The problem is the air around him suddenly deciding to shed its layers. 

Leaving one, thin strip of sustenance left for Suguru to breathe in. While he rehearses the lies he has to spew in front of a congregation. 

Half of which is so forbidden. Basking in the thrill of lusting after a “Man of God” bound by law — biblical and not — to remain pure in the face of temptation. It’s thrilling for that half of the congregation. 

Then there’s the other half.

Seeing him for the foreigner that he is. 

The other. A man with eyes more inclement than the worst of Heaven’s rainfall. Who bares tattoos of a past life. Acting as if that part of himself is so far lost at sea.

That half of the congregation is counting the seconds until Suguru can be properly burned at the stake. Words he reads directly from the Bible sound like lies to their ears. 

Which half of the congregation do you reside in?

“Father, I have a hard copy of your speech if you want it.” Noel whispers, just a few paces away from entering the ballroom.

And Suguru is so fond of the boy. The little brother he never got to grow up with.

“I think I have a handle on it, Noel. Thank you.” The Chaplain flashes a brief smile his way before taking in the last gust of oxygen. Praying that it gets him through the dreaded speech.

Violin notes reverberate in sync with Suguru’s footsteps toward the podium. You are somewhere behind him. Probably 20 paces or so. Polite about your wave. Genuine about your smile. Convincing the masses that you are one of them. 

The decades your home country spent in war with them mean nothing. 

Welcome home, Duchess.

Suguru’s deft fingers wrap around the microphone. 

“Welcome in.” He starts. It takes nothing for the room to come to an obedient silence. Listening intently. Taking in every word.

“Please, may the congregation rise? To give and receive blessings this evening.” Suguru prompts the room, a gentle up-flick of his wrist, raising all to their feet. 

“I’d happily kneel, Father.” A muffled comment from the pretty handmaiden that made a point to greet him a few moments earlier. 

Normally, Suguru wouldn’t entertain it. But something about this being his first formal engagement strips his usual restraint. 

“Such a dedicated servant of the Lord, Seren.”The Chaplain glances over to the blushing crowd of women at his right. 

Seren’s outburst crumbles to nothing under his pointed gaze. And a collective chuckle fills the room.

That should be enough to stifle any additional outbursts. 

Here he goes. 

“To the Duke Ahriman, and the Duchess-To-Be.” Suguru tilts his glass of water up at the noble pews — everyone else holding goblets of red wine.

Beauty and grace lock his eyes into place. Coaxing words out of his parched throat. He couldn’t deny you his voice if he wanted to.  

“I pray the Lord brings you unwavering love,” A lie whipped sweeter than cream rolls off his tongue. Suguru’s eyes float from you to the Duke. An eager smile on his face. 

But, what is the expression you’re currently wearing, Duchess?

Are you desperate to come up for air, too?

“A never ending fountain of peace.” Suguru continues to bless the ‘happy’ couple. With eyes that can see with inhuman clarity below the level of sea that receives penetrance from Helios.

The Midnight Zone may as well be daybreak to the Chaplain. And those same sharp eyes see something other than joy in your face. Something other than peace. 

But he continues his script, nonetheless. 

“An unconditional well of prosperity.” Suguru shamelessly sips from your tantalizing presence. If someone whispered to him that you two were the last beings on earth right now, he’d believe it without question. 

The finishing lines cause physical pain.

“And most importantly, to an Ahriman heir.” Suguru chokes out. “For God and Country.”

The room erupts in near uncontrollable cheer. 

“For God and Country!”

“For God and Country.” 

You mirror the Preist’s words and he memorizes every twitch in your lips. Every intonation of your voice is burned into the most permanent part of his mind.

Festivities flicker past Suguru’s short term memory. The night is a complete daze. Hundreds of courteous smiles. Dozens of handshakes. A handful of empathic stares and one all-consuming gaze that halts the Father in his tracks. 

How are you allowed to exist when lust is apparently a sin?

The answer to that never comes.

Boisterous music. Drunken celebration. Complete disinhibition comes in full force instead. 

Suguru wires around the women flinging themselves into his embrace. 

No matter the intention, he wants no part of it. In fact, if he could make it home to steal a few hours of uninterrupted sleep he would consider the night a roaring success. There’s no telling how many seconds, minutes, hours have passed since the start of the celebration. 

Not until his eyes find you swallowing more  than a mouthful of red wine at the edge of your seat. Avoiding eye contact with everyone in the room as if the clouds are your native home. 

“Blessed be the fruit, Duchess.” An inebriated noble nearly trips into your arms. 

You narrowly miss his impact. The flame in your campfire gaze ascends high enough to singe the crescent moon. 

“May the Lord open.” Each one of your words sharper than swords made of dragonstone. 

Suguru starts to make his way over to flailing man, to rip him away from you at the very least. 

But you are more skilled than he is in still waters. Beneath your fiancés nose and a host of prying eyes you find an exit to slip past. 

The Chaplain’s feet move before a knowing smile tugs on his lips. 

Suguru knows exactly where to find the woman who doesn’t want to be found. 

 · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 

Saline seabreeze intertwines with your loose mane. Erupting goosebumps along your exposed décolletage. Expanding the lungs imprisoned by your steel-boned corset.

Breathe.

The moon is curved and high. Super-terrestrial hands knead the low tide crashing along the cliffside. 

To what end?

Your mind searches for a finish line to the marathon. Desperately seeking refuge from the journey with no endpoint. Traveling further than Pheidippides, who ran hundreds of miles from the battlefield to the citadel to deliver news of victory. 

All before dropping dead. 

A chuckle more bitter than the goblet of wine escapes you. 

You would travel further just to be home. Even if it meant instant death in return.  

“For God and Country.” Sharp words through terse lips. “For God and Country.” 

Thick, unforgiving fog fills your brain space. Heels echo through the chapel garden, pebbling the stone path to the rocky edge. Red wine powers your clumsy stumble. Chasing an ever elusive clarity. 

The marathon continues.

“What if…what if I don’t serve your God.” You hiss at the stars above. 

Resentment more potent on your tongue than the spirits you ingested tonight. Before rules of conduct blare through your drunken haze, rolls of sage satin fill your balmy fists and you take a seat on the ground. Legs dangling over the edge. Enticing the dangers below. 

“For God and — what if I think your God is deaf and dumb and…and—“

“And He loves you all the same, Duchess.”

Oh, that voice. 

That voice that smells like honey. And tastes like a dream. And sounds like lilac. 

No.

Violet. 

Like the eyes of its owner. 

“Suguru!! I-I mean Father. Shit. I’m sorry.” Bitter resentment is replaced with sour regret. 

Did you really need that last serving of truth elixir?

The Chaplain lets out a deep, velvet chuckle. It runs smooth along the curve of your flushed cheeks. He takes a seat on the ledge. A full hand width or two away and yet, his presence kisses you in the way sun rays do, when they tuck in for the night.

“You must think I’m a petulant woman, Father.”  Shockingly sober words, thanks to the company beside you. 

Another rich, truffle laugh. You cant help but notice his prominent Adams Apple gliding down the muscular column of his throat. 

“My name sounds like a ballad when you say it.” Irises softer than an oil painting cement you in place. 

“Please use it.”

Because it is, Father. 

His name is a ballad. A sonnet. A monologue in its own right.

A love letter. 

“And what of my name, Suguru? When will you use it?” 

Sobriety flutters away as quickly as it cloaked you in the first place. Cobalt winds lift the hem of your dress. A sheet of goosebumps along your bare thighs now on display. 

From the glacial breeze? The damp earth beneath you?

…Or is it the way the Chaplain’s Adam’s Apple and gaze descends?

“When I’ve earned it, Duchess.” 

Long, deft fingers reach over to re-drape the  satin over your knees. You swallow a gasp before it erupts. 

Of course he fixed your dress. It’s where your hem belongs. Especially around a man who has taken a vow of celibacy. 

No, no. 

Especially as a woman who is engaged. Spoken for. Under the God he serves and the law you abide by. 

“I trust you’ll have enough..” Suguru’s lips curl up at a thought reserved for himself only. 

And somehow, the perfectly centered dimple  on his appled left cheek comes to your attention for the first time. 

“Enough what?” You probe, sinking in the cavern you’ve discovered. 

“Conviction.” Volcanic eyes trail up to the moon. “To tell me the exact moment when I’ve earned the privilege.”

Suguru gives you ample space to bathe in him while he bathes in moonlight.

It’s uncanny. 

How the Priest exists in two different places at once. Down here, with you on the cliff edge. He’s tangible. Thick locks in a poetic cascade down his back. Limbs nearly twice as long as yours, beckoning creatures that only break the surface of Leviathan’s playground to wreak havoc. 

Sure, he’s down here. 

But he’s also up there. 

Somewhere in the ether. Traversing altitudes well above the average, simple minded being. High enough for the Gods to confess their sins. Because Suguru is the only one worthy enough to forgive them.  

“You’re staring, Duchess.” His voice holds a grin, and that grin has fingers. 

Cruel, torturous fingers that pet and stroke and tease your throbbing core until it’s plush. Your cunt is more intoxicated than you are.

“Eyesight is not a sin, Father.” You retort, crossing your legs before any more arousal leaks from your warm sex. Your gall entirely fueled by Arella’s quote imbedded in your mind. 

“Suguru.” The Priest corrects.  His sleek, jet black brow elevates. You must be an amusing drunk. 

“Suguru.” You acquiesce with a bashful nod. 

“So demanding.” 

He gifts you his left dimple once more. A feature that is rapidly soaring through your mind’s construct. Undoubtedly the only boyish thing about the stallion of a man next to you. 

Straight from Poseidon’s steed. 

“Very.” He agrees. “Only when the time calls for it.” 

And what time would that be?

“The Dahlias I sent, did you enjoy them?” Suguru deftly redirects the conversation like a captain navigating treacherous waters. As if he heard the blasphemous thoughts starting to brew. 

“They are gorgeous.” 

Stifling heat emanates from your cheeks. You were so fond of the bouquet that you felt compelled to lie to your betrothed about the source. 

“Good.” His eyes capture a moon ray and holds it hostage. 

“And the letter?”

“I loved it!” A slurred confession. “I’ve re-read it more times than I can count on my fingers and toes.” 

How does his laugh sprint down your spine the way that it does? 

Unraveling you bit, by bit. You would stay drunk and stupid if it meant you could keep drawing that addicting sound out of his full lips. 

“I was referencing the proposal in the letter, Duchess.” 

Suguru’s eyes drop to your bottom lip, now rolled under your teeth. Not even a second passes before he flickers back out to the sea. And you’re grateful for the privacy to darken like Pinot Noir on a corkscrew. Both hands cup your reddened cheeks. 

“Yes, of course.” You wave, a matter-of-fact, of course. 

“I’ll do whatever you ask of me.” 

That response draws something new from the enigmatic Priest. 

Raven locks lift off his back from the speed at which his gaze recoils back to you. Lightning strikes the volcanoes in his eyes. A clenched fist and tense arm drops between his legs. 

Is he…steadying himself?

You can’t quite name his expression.  Wine or not, you’ve never seen anything like it.

It’s dark. Ominous. Full of bloodlust. 

And you’d gladly offer up a vein. 

“Pardon?” He rasps, completely fixated on your lips. As to not miss a single word of your answer.

Your hips roll around under his unrelenting stare. “I-I mean, you know best. I will do whatever you think is best for my marriage.”

Suguru barely hears your repeated answer, judging by the way he briefly makes eye contact, before re-settling on your mouth. Heat swells in your puffy cunt. Already hugging your thin, sodden undergarment. 

The Priest offers no words. 

Just a heady, quiet that pins you to the ground. And your mind, suddenly promiscuous, wonders if this is what it feels like to be beneath a man’s weight. Caged in by muscular arms. Scalded by fiery eyes tracing inch by inch. 

Not that you would know. 

Not that you know anything about making love. Or men. Or loving a man. 

“Will you…can you teach me how to love a man?” The tips of your ears threaten to melt off your head the second your sentence is complete.

Another shocking blow to the Father. His lips hang open in disbelief. For one, two, three seconds before he zips back up. Concealing his thoughts behind a courteous but very present steel barrier. 

“I—“ He starts carefully, averting away. “Surely you don’t need to be taught—“ 

“But I’m pure, Father.” You counter. Searing into his angular profile. “I’ve never…I don’t know how to—“ 

Cool fingers gently tilt your chin upward. To brand his correction into your memory. 

“Suguru.” The Chaplain’s voice glides lower than your inhibition. 

Something says that he won’t correct you a third time. 

Despite the temperature maintaining the same degree, a sharp jolt of pleasure straightens your spine as your nipples pebble against the silky fabric. You gnaw your cheeks to keep from physically squirming.

“S—Suguru.” You repeat. Subservience wets your drooling sex in a way that makes you want to keep following commands. 

Suguru’s tone rubs the folds in your brain smooth. 

“Good. Quick learner.” A pleased grin blooms across his lips. “I’ll start with focusing on you.”

The two of you slowly peel away from one another. Crashing waves replace the heady silence. 

Well, silence other than your heartbeat rattling between your ears. In your periphery, the Chaplain is now peering outward, at his true home. The coast is clear to return your greedy eyes back to his acute, feline features. 

Just enough of his mane is tied back to reveal a pretty mulberry dusting his high cheekbones and pointed nose. 

A pleasant surprise to know the demigod warms like the mortals he walks amongst.

“You’re blushing, Suguru.” Girlish satisfaction heavy on your tongue. 

Another decadent chuckle pets your womanhood. And this time you have to swallow a moan.

“As are you, Duchess.”

“Darling? There you are!” Ezra’s voice is just as, if not more sobering than his footsteps approaching. 

Too soon. 

Time bows at Suguru’s feet. The concept doesn’t exist around him. Someone, be it Arella or Noel or now, your soon-to-be husband, someone always has to physically draw you back to the present. 

Reality never comes on time. Always too late. Or in your case, always a little too early. 

The Chaplain is on his feet in seconds. He swiftly lifts you from the edge and sets you on solid ground. Leaving you dizzied and breathless on the surface. 

Guilty and red-handed beneath it. 

“Oh sweetheart,” Ezra paws at the soiled fabric, concern etched into his face. “Your dress is completely ruined.”

“I’ll live.” You’re sharper than intended. Surely, from the spirits still thrumming through your veins. 

Ezra falters like a wounded puppy. And it tugs on your tattered heartstrings.

“Thank you for the concern, Ezra.” You soften, thumbing his cheek. Purposefully avoiding the violet beams aimed at your face. And shoulders. And hands. 

As if the Priest is daring you to keep provoking his searing gaze. 

But your fiancé unravels under your rare display of affection. He eagerly leans over to kiss your forehead. Meanwhile your hand desperately magnets to your side. 

“Sorry for leaving so abruptly Ezra, I—I had a bit too much to drink and I needed air then—“

“Don’t give it a second thought, my love.” 

Your fiancé is gentle with you. Little strokes along the small of your back. And maybe…just maybe your reaction time is dulled because you don’t immediately flinch away.

“Individual counseling starting early then?” Ezra jests. Pristine jade eyes dance between you and Suguru. 

The Priest offers a smile about as warm as the Siberian tundra. 

“Hardly. Just ensuring the Duchess is out of harm’s way.”

Like your fiancé did with you, you flower under the pad of Suguru’s thumb. A brief swipe, to remove a stray saltwater droplet. But your skin scorches all the same. Unreasonably missing a touch that lasted all of half a moment. 

Ezra clears his throat and drops his broad, but not nearly as broad, shoulders.

“I received the memo from your office staff, Father. Please accept this as my formal agreement to proceed with individual counseling.” He reaches out and Suguru takes his hand firmly. 

“Duchess,” Suguru beckons without breaking focus on Ezra. 

“We will be begin your sessions in three days. Meet me around 8:00 AM in our garden. Yes?”

Our garden.

You are a dirty woman. 

The way your core aches at his meaningless, frivolous, harmless words. 

“Y-yes. I will be there.” A half-baked attempt at maintaining neutrality. 

Your agreement earns you Suguru’s left dimple again. You toss your gaze elsewhere before your knees commit treason. 

“Duke, is there an activity you enjoy?” Suguru probes Ezra. 

“Sailing.”

“Sailing…?” Suguru lifts an incredulous brow. Blatantly amused by his automatic response. 

Granted, you don’t know your future husband that well, but he’s never made mention of any maritime activities.

Meanwhile everyone in this country, two countries over, possibly your home country knows that water belongs to the Chaplain. The element bends to his will. 

“Are you certain about that, Duke Ahriman?”

“Yes, Father. We have quite the fleet. I think you would be impressed.” 

“Understood. You and I will set sail before Sunrise the day after tomorrow.” 

The men exchange pleasantries as they do. Ezra intertwines his loving fingers into your reluctant ones. He ushers the long night to a welcome end.

Five steps into your path home, a blistering heat snakes up your spine. Fanning your shoulders like high noon during summer solstice. 

You don’t have to do it. 

You know the source, already. 

But you do it anyway. 

Over your left shoulder, you find the Naval Prince strolling along the unstable rocky ledge with as much grace as he does flat terrain. Eyeing the tide. Searching for the perfect entry home. 

Suguru’s trident reflects stark against the moonlight. Upper body completely shed of clothing, lower body with a long, black compression garment. Heavy locks now woven in the same singular braid you met him with. Dark overhead skies somehow illuminating the ridges and shadows of his sculpted arms, and back…and chest. 

A glimpse of heaven. 

…is staring right back at you. 

Possessing you.

“Enjoy your swim!” 

The words string together without your consent. Ezra lands his attention on you, startled by the sudden crack in silence. 

And the demigod shakes his head.  One part disbelief, two parts fond. 

“Enjoy your dreams!” Suguru calls back before turning his trident to you. His night has just begun.

You walk away with your betrothed, cloaked in soiled satin and guilt. 

Were you in the wrong? Maybe so.

But your heart didn’t choose Ezra. Not yet. You aren’t sure if your heart has even chosen you. 

Arella’s gentle wave from the patio welcomes you home. Sleep suddenly descending on your heavy lids. 

At least you’re safe, here in your mind’s haven.

For now. 

     · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 

“Fuck.” 

A tormented hand swipes the bead of moisture tickling a path down Suguru’s temple. 

0345

Obscenities seem to spill from his lips a little too easily these days. And his usual coping mechanisms are falling a little too short. 

The chaplain drags the hem of his sleepwear down to his thighs. 

Each bone, muscle and tendon is utterly spent after tonight’s swim. Every part of his body except the thick rod that springs free from its cage. 

Glistening with beads of lust. Taunting him. Making a mockery of his code of conduct. 

Thou Shall Not Covet Thy Neighbor’s Wife.

“Really?” Suguru scoffs and screws his eyes shut. His nails dig into the abused sheets to keep from gripping his cock and tugging himself numb. 

How convenient. 

The Holy Book of Answers and all of its rules makes no mention of how to survive the likes of you. 

How does one circumvent murky waters when Thy Neighbor’s Wife is Aphrodite’s reincarnate? 

Suguru’s heavy, oversized length pulsates. Its blushing head lays flush with his abdomen, a few inches past his belly button. Leaking pearly arousal onto his damp skin. Still not fully air-dried from the second icy bath since returning to his quarters. 

‘I’ll do whatever you ask of me.’

You dangled your submission in front of him. 

Him, a red-blooded man. 

A ravenous, touch starved, cunt-drunk beast of man. And you sat there. With your dizzying silhouette. And puffy lips. And pert nipples, pebbling from his gaze alone.  

Did you think he couldn’t see? 

How you pressed your mouth-watering thighs together? With wide, gorgeous eyes. Desperately trying to deny yourself the indulgence. 

What if he asked you to spread your legs then and there, pretty girl? 

What if he asked you to watch his fingers pet that weeping little cunt of yours? Watch how much honey he could coax out of your needy opening. 

Because you were. 

So fucking needy.

Suguru could see it from a mile away much less sitting next to you. Tensed legs. Short gasps. Studying his features when you thought his attention lapsed. 

‘Can you teach me how to love a man?’

“Oh, sweet girl,” Suguru rolls over to settle a plush pillow between his thighs. The cool, soft cotton rubs blinding friction against his aching length. 

This is wrong. 

Immoral. 

He’s a filthy, disgusting, pervert.

Suguru lurches his hips forward in a deep thrust against the cushion. A shattered groan pushes past his clenched jaw. 

It’s a disgrace, the way saliva pooled in his mouth and cum drooled from his cock when you unveiled your purity. 

Suguru’s hips rut faster. Brutalizing the pillow. Animalistic sounds bubble out of him. 

“Fuck…fuck no..don’t..” Pathetic pleas contradict the pace he humps the fabric. Chasing the whirlpool of lust in his groin. 

Demons in hell couldn’t concoct the vile things his mind is showing him. The intricate ways he wants to violate you.

A moral stain for the church 

The priest tilts up on his knees. Fucking the pillow in earnest. Picturing its your precious, dewy center that he’s defiling. 

He could teach you, gorgeous. 

He could shape your untouched core to fit his cock like a sleeve. Perfectly molded to his veins. Slotting into your warm, wet, noble sheath with ease. 

He would have you sit on his lap for your first lesson. 

His swollen length buried inside you to the hilt. He wouldn’t thrust, not yet. Your body would just clench and squeeze and leak around his intrusion. Suguru wouldn’t retreat out of your cunt until you were begging him to. Teary eyed and drooling from every single opening. 

He could teach you. Break you. Turn you into a pretty little cockdumb puppet at his touch.

“God..nngh fuck.” Opaque fog fills his head and lungs. 

Sordid moans echo against the walls. Reflecting his sinful behavior, but Suguru is too intoxicated to care. He curls around his swollen cockhead. Feverishly jerking his abused sex. Grinding so pitifully into his hand. 

Suguru drops his head. Mumbling your name in full before spewing himself empty into his grasp, the sheets, his pillow. 

Shame warmer than the mess of cum he’s currently laying descends. Filling the fuzzy corners of his brain. 

Is he really so weak?

“Be stronger than this.” The priest hisses angrily.

Unable to lay in filth for another second, Suguru rockets out of bed. Pulling his sheets, folding his sins away. To be cleansed in the next load of laundry.

A third, icy shower serves the same purpose for him a few minutes later. Glacial droplets soak the length of his mane, again. His manhood hangs away from his body, bucking every couple moments. Threatening to steal his virtue for a second time. 

He’ll be a better man when the sun rises. 

A tired sigh escapes his lips. At least Suguru is safe, here in his mind’s haven. 

For now.  

E/N: Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Chaplain, you really have to get a handle on those pesky hands of yours. 🤭

Taglist: @blkkizzat @hayakawalove @rotteneyess

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A Secret Held Tight (3/?)

────────── DEMETRIAN TITUS x F!READER x CATO SICARIUS ⚠️ Romance, Pregnant!Reader Weeks after a night of celebrations, you find yourself pregnant and ready to run, only to have your plans thwarted by Titus who vows to keep you safe. Now you must navigate the complexities of falling in love, and the scrutiny of Captain Cato Sicarius. a/n: Cato makes his appearance! This could probably do with another round of editing since I was writing it between dungeon queues. chp. one / chp. two

You awaken slowly, groggy and disoriented, as the events of last night come flooding back. Your body is heavy, and your spirit drained. With a weary sigh, you sit up, a sudden wave of nausea hitting you. You clutch your stomach as you fight through it. Thankfully, nothing comes up.

Taking a moment to recover, you look around at your new quarters. The room is small and barren, save for the bed you sit on. With time and care, you could make it cozier, maybe even squeeze a bassinet in for the baby. The two doors pose a challenge though — one leads to the hall, while the other likely connects your room to Titus’.

Rising carefully, you make your way to the door and knock. There’s no response. You open it cautiously, peering inside only to find Titus’ room empty. Curious, you step through.

His room mirrors your own in its simplicity. A neatly made bed pushed up against the wall, and a desk nearby with a modest collection of books stacked in the corner, their spines worn from use.

Just as you’re about to examine the books closer, Titus enters, a tray of food balanced in his hands. He’s surprised to see you up, and he smiles. It’s awkward at best, as though he’s unsure if he’s doing it right. In truth, there haven’t been many causes to warrant smiling lately.

“Good morning,” he says, placing the tray down on his desk. “How are you feeling?”

You take a moment to answer him, resting a hand on your rounding belly. It wasn’t obvious yet, but you could already feel the changes. Just last night, you had steeled yourself for a life of solitude with your child. Now you were safe in the place you tried to flee — safe under an Ultramarine’s protection.

“I’m better, thank you, my lord.”

“Titus,” he corrects softly. “Please, when we’re alone, there’s no need.”

“O-of course. Titus,” you echo, testing his name on your lips. It’s strangely intimate to address him without titles, and both of you blush like bashful teenagers.

An awkward silence follows until Titus clears his throat, gesturing toward the tray. “You slept through breakfast, so I brought you some.”

“Thank you,” you say, sitting down at the desk and looking over the contents of the tray. It’s a modest feast — bread, an array of fruits, and a jug of clean water, far more than what you were accustomed to eating before. You nibble at the bread. It seemed the safest of the options for your rolling stomach.

“I informed the kitchen it was for a pregnant woman,” Titus says, sitting on the edge of his bed, “and they insisted I bring it all. You’d think I stumbled into a nest of nids with how frenzied they were.”

You laugh quietly, and Titus’ gaze softens when he looks at you. “When you’ve had your fill, you may accompany me to battle practice.”

The meal passes in silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of pages as Titus reads through the codex astartes. You eat what you can, mindful of the persistent morning sickness that kept hounding you.

Once you’re finished, you follow Titus to the training grounds. He joins his brothers, exchanging a few words as they wait for others to join. You find a bench in a cloister that’s out of the way and settle in to watch.

The respect the other marines have for Titus is obvious, even amongst the younger brothers who look at him with open admiration. You’d heard that Titus had been demoted, though the particulars remained a mystery — details a serf wasn’t privy to. Still, losing rank did nothing to reduce their respect for him.

You brush your hand over your stomach. He’ll be a great father.

With all the brothers assembled, training begins in earnest, their first drill focusing on close-quarter combat. The sounds of power armor whirring and the grunts of exertion fill the air. And Titus is magnificent. His form, stacked with muscle and powerful, moves with grace and precision from years of training. Each swing, every punch, every move is efficient, nothing is wasted.

Every so often, his gaze drifts towards you, and when your eyes meet his, your cheeks bloom with warmth and you duck your head with an embarrassed smile. A younger brother nearly gets a hit on him while he’s distracted by you, but Titus recovers with a dodge.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice a figure approaching, clad in gleaming blue armor — Cato Sicarius. It’s almost theatrical how the sun glints off his armor, casting a bright reflection. His piercing gaze is locked on you, and your heart races as he gets closer.

“Serf,” he says, his voice calm, yet the way he addresses you cuts deeper than any blade. It’s like an insult. You lower your head.

“My lord,” you murmur.

“I had heard Titus took on a pregnant serf. I’m disappointed to find it true.” His eyes narrow, his eyes boring into you with a strange, unsettling familiarity. “And who is the father?”

“I-I don’t know, my lord. It’s complicated,” you stammer.

Sicarius regards you with a mixture of frustration and annoyance. He doesn’t give you a moment to collect yourself. “Complicated? How do you not know?” he presses harder, his voice low and urgent. “You must have some idea.”

Your hands tremble, and you clasp them together to keep yourself from shaking. The world seems to close in; the accusations are heavy and crush the air from your lungs. Before you can muster a response, another marine strides purposefully towards you, his face stern — Titus.

“It doesn’t matter who the father is,” he declares. “What matters is her safety and well-being, and that of the child and I will take that responsibility.”

Sicarius jerks his head to face Titus with a frown. “Titus. Remember your duty. Do not let these personal matters interfere with that.”

Titus is unwavering, a bulwark against Sicarius. “I assure you, Captain, my duties are my priority. If you take issue with my decisions, we may take this to the Primarch.”

Sicarius glances once more between you and Titus, his lips pressed into a thin line. After a moment, he nods curtly. “Very well, brother,” he concedes, though his tone implies this matter is far from over. He turns and strides over to the group of marines, his voice rising in stern commands as he begins scolding and correcting their forms.

Titus sighs, relaxing as he looks down at you. “Are you alright?” he asks, jolting you back to reality.

You nod, clutching your hands protectively over your stomach. “I-I am, thank you. I feel like I can’t stop saying that…”

“There’s no need for thanks, I am happy to aid you.” Titus smiles, and this time, it seems more natural. “Do not dwell on his words, Cato has always been difficult. Come, midday meal is soon. I’ll see you to the kitchens.”

He holds out his hand, and you slip yours into his. Titus’ grip is steady and reassuring as he helps you to your help, and you take comfort in that — in him.

Later that night, after concluding evening prayer, Titus made his way towards the kitchens, planning to retrieve a meal for himself and you. He wonders what they’ll suggest you eat this time. How much did you need to eat, anyway? A million thoughts race through his mind as he rounds a corner.

From behind a column, a figure emerges and Titus stops, watching as the person hurries to him. It’s a serf, one he recognizes as serving Cato Sicarius. This can’t be good.

“Lord Titus,” the serf begins, his voice hushed and heavy with fear. “I have something important I must tell you, concerning your serf.”

Titus straightens, snapping to attention. “Speak.”

The serf hesitates, casting worried glances around as if someone might overhear him. Walls of the fortress had ears. “Captain Sicarius is the father,” he blurts out, eyes wide with fear. “I-I saw him leaving my chambers that night, and when I entered, I found her.”

A heavy silence falls upon them, thick and oppressive, as the revelation hangs in the air. The tension stretches into a long, suffering stillness. The serf wrings his hands in an attempt to calm his nerves, searching Titus’ face for any sign of emotion — and finds none.

Finally, Titus speaks, his voice cold and measured. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

With a hasty bow, the serf scurries away, gone as quickly as he appeared, leaving Titus alone with his turbulent thoughts. Titus breathes deep, his nostrils flaring. His fists clench at his sides, the knuckles turning white from the force.

That bastard.

🏷️ @danart501

[octuscle]

Fun on the not so fair ground

Where Darren was, Darren wasn't there because he was particularly clever or hard-working or charming. No one knew exactly how Darren had made it to division manager. And how he had remained division manager despite dissatisfied colleagues and customers. No one liked the arrogant, smug asshole. He was moody, incompetent… But he was divisional manager and because of some skeleton he had in the closet with some board member, he remained divisional manager.

One of Darren's most striking characteristics was his stinginess. And his resentment. He was annoyed that he hadn't won any tickets for the rollercoaster or the Ferris wheel in the lottery organized by the HR department for the company outing to the fair. But he was all the more delighted to win a ticket for the ghost train. Everyone else had always won two tickets. He suspected that the ghost train was so expensive that there was only one ticket for it. And he had it.

For Darren, going to the fair was more of a chore. Having to deal with his colleagues in the evening was an imposition. But since he had won the ticket, he had to go. And he especially had to go on the ghost train. His colleagues wished him a lot of fun, the meeting was in a beer tent in half an hour. Darren joined the short queue. The ticket taker looked at his ticket. "Oh, the special tour!" he said with a grin. His eyes just lit up red for a moment. Must be some kind of special effect, Darren thought to himself. The bar on his gondola closed. The ride started.

It was a terribly boring ride. Only small children would be frightened on something like this. Darren was happy when the ride was over and the bar opened again. He walked towards the exit. Suddenly a door slammed shut in front of him. And a hidden wallpaper door creaked open. This had to be the part with the special tour. But here too: Lame, boring effects. Some of them were obviously broken. And the dust and cobwebs seemed to be real. Darren stood in front of a picture with the caption "Your greatest horror". Well. Biggest horror. It showed a young man with cheap clothes, a cheap haircut and obviously no future. Darren wasn't afraid of people like that. He ignored people like that. There was a mirror next to the picture. It was captioned 'Your future'. Darren saw a young man with cheap clothes, a cheap haircut and clearly no future. Fuck! He grabbed his face and the reflection did the same. His skin, which had just been flawless for a man in his late 30s, was blemished. As if from too much alcohol and nicotine. And too little care. Maybe it was the remnants of acne, because the man in the mirror was younger than Darren. Maybe in his early 20s. Badly shaved. His hair styled in a preppy undercut. And he stank. That couldn't have come from his reflection. The jacket was made of cheap, badly tanned leather. Sweat. Cheap deodorant. Nicotine. His fingers smelled like those of a chain smoker. And his teeth were yellow like a chain smoker's. In a panic, Darren looked for the exit. He found himself behind the ghost train. There was a "Staff only" sign above the exit. Darren tried to open the door. He rattled the handle. A man opened it for him. Behind the door was a small staff room. The man asked if he wanted to apply for the position of young man to travel with the fair. Darren ran away in a panic.

Where to now? To the beer tent? What would his colleagues say? They wouldn't recognize him. He tried anyway. The bouncer turned him away. For invited guests only. Darren had an invitation. He used to have an invitation in the inside pocket of his jacket. Now he had an almost empty pack of filterless cigarettes and a battered Zippo. His wallet hung on a chain from his torn jeans. With a bit of cash. A ten-ride bus pass that was almost used up. And a driver's license. For big trucks and tractor-trailers. Bloody hell! He still had to be on this ghost train. It was better than he thought. But he didn't feel like it anymore. He wanted a shower and then to get into his silk pyjamas. But his car key was gone. And where his car had been, there was now a completely different one. He had to walk, Darren had no idea how he was going to get home on the bus and he didn't have the money for a cab.

He had been walking for almost half an hour when he finally got home. In the dark windows of his elegant old apartment on the mezzanine floor, the "For Sale" signs were covered with "Sold". The. Is. A. Cursed. Nightmare! Darren no longer had a key for anything. Not for this apartment that used to be his, not for a missing car, not for his office. He had no cell phone, he had the few things he had on his person. A nightmare! His worst nightmare! His biggest horror! Darren climbed over the fence. It was surprisingly easy. His new body was athletic. He had already noticed that on the way here. There was a Victorian summer house at the back of the garden that belonged to his apartment. And he always hid a key there. Under a flower pot. A flowerpot that no longer existed. Everything on the porch of the garden shed was an army duffel bag. With a rucksack in it, a tracksuit, underwear. Everything wasn't quite clean anymore. But it was obviously his. Darren picked up the duffel bag, walked over to the fence, threw the duffel bag over and climbed in after it. A policeman shouted "Freeze!" And Darren ran for his life.

It had taken him three quarters of an hour to get back to the fair with his duffel bag. No idea why he had come back here. A few drunks staggered out of the beer tents. Darren didn't recognize any of them as colleagues. Most of the rides were just closing. "Son, can you give me a hand?" Shouted an older gentleman struggling on the bumper cars. "A few dollars, a bowl of soup, and by the look of you, you could use a place to sleep." Darren took a deep breath, grabbed his duffel bag and helped the man push the bumper cars together and lock them up.

The first few days were hell. Darren wasn't used to physical labor, even though his body was. The little money he earned was enough for cigarettes and pre-paid cards for a cell phone. And the guys he had to share the trailer with snarled and stank. But Darren probably snarled too. And he certainly did stink. The only thing he enjoyed was sex. Plenty of sex. Apparently there were lots of girls and boys, young and old, who liked the fairground rebel type. Darren had stopped counting how many cocks he had sucked between the frames of the rollercoaster, how many asses and pussies he had fucked. Sometimes for free. Sometimes for a handful of dollars. He could put that money to good use. A buddy had a booth at the fair where he did tattoos. Real works of art. Of course Darren got a special price. But even among the bros here at the fair, nothing was for free. The first few days went by. The first weeks went by. Darren, who everyone had long since just called Daz, had gained routine in building and dismantling "his" rollercoaster. The other guys who helped out here were runaways, vagrants… They were usually gone again after a few days. Not Daz. This was his home. This was his family. He loved his job. And he was damn good at it.

When Daz took over the management of the small fairground company with a rollercoaster, a bumper car and a lottery booth a few years later, nobody was surprised. Daz belonged here. Always in a good mood, always ready to help. And always horny!

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Hear me out! II teaching reader how to play drums

Slightly suggestive

Play along

His drum sessions were for him and him only. The basement studio he had crafted for himself was his oasis and he didn’t plan to share it with anyone. But you had always been the exception in his life. From the moment he saw you, there was no desire to be grouchy. Quite the opposite. His heart had plummeted down when he had turned around to throw a nasty remark over his shoulder as you both were stabbing in a pretty tight queue and you had nudged him a couple of times. He always said that it was your eyes that had left him speechless but it was everything else too. You were just what he had been looking for. He had that feeling about you.

“Hey, love”, his voice sounded down the hallway, “Where are you?”. You put your book down, glancing up, “Living room”, you called out, watching ii slowly emerging, drumsticks still in hand. “Hi”, he muses a smile on his face. He always seemed to smile when his eyes landed on you. A default reaction. “Hey, gorgeous”, you mirrored his bright face, “Why are you back up so soon?”. He doesn’t say anything before reaching for your hand, making you frown, “ii”, you question softly. “Come”, is all he says as he drags you towards the basement stairs.

The studio is dimly lit. His notes were scattered on the floor alongside empty Red Bull cans. The last time you were here he had been setting his drum kit together, now it proudly stood almost in the middle of the room. “Well, you cleaned up nicely”, you mused, glancing at the poster and record-covered wall. “I will pick up the trash”, he states, making you giggle because he knows that you are a clean freak deep inside. “It’s your haven you live how you want in it”, you shrug, as he moves to sit behind the set, pulling you onto his lap. The seating is snug. You can feel him behind you even if he’s only semi-hard, his thighs caging you in. You brace your palms on them, slowly running the pads of your fingers over his tattooed skin.

“Do I get a private concert from the drummer’s point of view?”, you ask turning back slightly, catching a glimpse of the smirk forming on his face. “I want to teach you something”, ii simply state, “been wanting to see you behind my set so long”. Now it’s your time to smirk, “Why, gets you hot and bothered?”, you tease him, pushing back against him. “Careful, or you will be learning about the other side of the kit after I bend you over it”, he growls against your ear, pressing his lips onto your neck, nibbling at your skin before littering the spot with feather-like kisses. You lean against him fully. Welcoming the feeling and warmth of him.

“Want to play the summoning with me?”, he whispers against your ear, and you simply nod. Watching him softly position the drumsticks between your fingers before he fraps his much bigger palms over your whole hand. “Just relax and let me do the rest, I’ll whisper the notes in your ear”, he muses and it’s enough to send the shivers down your back. It feels surreal to sit there like this. It looks that you sitting there between his spread legs doesn’t give him any trouble. He sounds just like he does during the concert. Your eyes follow his movements as he continues to play.

And then he’s leaning in, kissing your neck between every word. You lean deeper into him, wishing your hands were free so you could feel him. “Turn to me”, he orders thickly and you don’t hesitate. Catching the glimpse of the glisten in his blue eyes and right before his solo part I crash his lips onto yours. The kiss is messy and eager. Deliciously addictive but it’s not even that it’s the fact that you can hear him still playing and still hitting all the parts right if not better. You try to throw him off track as you pull back, biting onto his lips, but he’s right there, leaning back in, kissing you even deeper, both moaning against each other.

You pull away breathlessly when the music finally dies down. Slipping your hands from his, letting the drumsticks clatter to the floor as you turn to face him, only to climb back onto his lap, this time straddling him. Ii palms move to cup your ass, squeezing it a couple of times.

“Show off”, you muse against his lips, making ii let out a chuckle, “I just wanted to test my theory”, he says between kisses. “What theory?”, you pull back, leaning up to watch his smug face. “If I could play just as well while kissing you”, he explains. You roll your eyes, “Now tell me that it was iii who put this thought in your angelic mind”, you shake your head. Ii laughs and you know that you’re right, “It was him but I had thought about it myself just… just in a different sense”, he adds, eyes watching you. “What different sense?”, you ask, letting your hands rape over his shoulders. Ii smirks and a part of you knows what’s coming. “I wondered if I could fuck you while I play”, he says so casually that for a second you can’t help but tell yourself that you misunderstood him but then that’s exactly the answer you had been waiting for. “Of course you thought about that”, you roll your eyes but can’t help the smirk on your face. “Come on, tell me that you haven’t thought about it too”, I pull at your hair slightly, just enough to make you look up. “Guess you have to put words to actions to see”, you shrug innocently. ii shakes his head, before reaching for the band of his joggings.

[wandafiction]

Amusement Park

Warnings: None, just lots of fluff

Mama. Mom. Come on. Let's go." You laugh as you climb out of the car seeing your daughter, Mia, tugging on your wife's arm trying to get her walking. 

"Hang on honey, we have to wait for your mom. She's just getting her bag out of the car." You smile as you close the trunk of the car swinging the bag over your left shoulder. 

"Can we go now!" You roll your eyes at Mia’s impatience as you nod your head. 

"Yes, yes. Let's go Monkey." You grab a hold of her left hand, your wife holding onto her right as she looks at you and leans to give you a small kiss on the cheek. 

"I love you." You smile widely, blushing even after all the years and the endless times you have heard her say it. 

"I love you too Wanda. Now let's get this little rascal on some rides." Mia swings her arms as you begin the walk to the gates of the amusement park, small giggles of excitement coming from her with every step closer. 

It doesn't take long for you to enter the amusement park, Mia bouncing on her toes as she drags you and Wanda over to the first ride she sees, you smile to yourself when you see Wanda’s face pale a little. 

“You really want to start with the haunted house ride first honey?” Wanda’s voice wavers slightly as she looks at the ride as Mia’s smiles widely nodding her head.

“It's okay mama. Me and mom will pwotect you. Won’t we mom?” Wanda looks between you two as you move to wrap an arm around her shoulder. 

“Yeah we will.” Mia lets go of your hands as she runs to join the queue, you and Wanda quickly follow as you keep your arm wrapped over her shoulders. “There is nothing to be worried about.” 

“I got scared by my own reflection in the mirror this morning. This thing makes things jump out at you, so sure nothing to be worried about.” You chuckle as you finally catch up to your daughter, putting a hand on her shoulder to stop her from running off again as you wait for the queue to move.

“So we will sit. Mom, me and Mama.” 

“Oh you’ve made a seating plan, huh?” Wanda smiles as she bends down to match Mia's height, brushing some hair behind her ear before kissing her forehead. 

“Yeah because I know it scawy so if I am in the middle you and mom can pwotect me.”

“Well you are very smart. You sound like a wise old woman.” Wanda chuckles as Mia scrunches her face.

“Mama I am only four. You and mom are the old ones.” That earns a tickle attack from Wanda. “Ahhh mama stop.” 

“Take it back.” Wanda picks your daughter up in one arm, setting her on her right hip as the other one continues to tickle her stomach; you just stand there smiling widely at the scene as bystanders seem to take notice and smile to themselves. 

“Okay you’re not that old.” Wanda doesn’t let up now, leaning her head down to blow raspberries on your daughter's cheeks. “Okay mama, you are not old.”

“Thank you.” Wanda kisses Mia’s forehead before placing her quickly back down on the ground as you move to the front of the line now just waiting for the next cart to empty. 

“Ready mama?” Wanda swallows harshly as you all climb into the cart and all she can do is give you both a scared smile with a nod of her head. “Here hold my hand mama.”

Mia takes Wanda’s hand off the small bar in front of her, holding onto it tightly with both of hers as the cart starts moving into the dark building. You smile when you feel them both shuffle closer to you, keeping one hand on the safety bar in front of you the other wraps around the back of them both as you pull them that little closer

"Ahhh!" You laugh as the both of them scream and turn their heads away from a zombie rattling around in the cage, feeling Wanda try to tuck her head into your neck but stopping short so she doesn’t squish Mia between you two. 

Wanda keeps her head hidden away most of the ride, screaming when the train goes down a drop or there's a small noise. Mia is laughing just like you at Wanda's shouts and screams. The train cart comes to a stop in a dark room, you feel Mia shuffle closer to you and you feel Wanda’s hand move to grip onto yours tightly. 

Suddenly, a demon appears in front of you and the cart drops straight down. All of you let out a scream at the sudden movement before the cart zooms backwards for a few seconds. It comes to a stop, but this time you can see the daylight as the cart starts moving forward and you feel Mia and Wanda relax when they realise it is the end of the ride. Wanda clears her throat moving back to the other side of the cart giving you a small glare as you smirk at her, before you both look at Mia who is giggling away to herself.

“What are you laughing at, monkey?” Wanda asks with an amused smile as you all climb off the ride once the safety bar raises. 

“You. You were screaming like a little girl.” You press your lips together to hold in a laugh as Wanda’s jaws drop with a gasp only causing more giggles from Mia. 

“I was not.” You snort out a small laugh as Wanda’s accent laces her words as she looks at Mia in disbelief.

“You so were mama. You were screaming like ahhhh! Ahhh! Nooo! Ahhh!” Mia squeals herself as Wanda wraps an arm around her small body, her free hand tickling her sides, before lifting her up slightly.

You laugh as her small legs kick out, her hands trying to keep Wanda’s away as she continues to tickle her. Wanda’s smile is wide and bright, laughing along as a few tears start leaving Mia’s eyes from how hard she is laughing. 

“Mama, stop…. I can’t breathe.” Only then does Wanda stop what she is doing, putting Mia back on the ground who quickly falls onto the floor, her arms clutching around her stomach as a few last giggles leave her. 

“See no teasing mama, monkey, otherwise you get the tickle monster.” Mia rolls backwards laying on the ground in a starfish position, both you and Wanda giggling as you look down at her.

“Hey mom was laughing too!” Your smile drops as you see Wanda quirk a brow, a small smirk plastered on her face. 

“Oh was she?” Mia hums with a nod as she sits up. “Well why don’t you help me get her then.” 

“Noo!” You run in the opposite direction as Wanda and Mia run after you, all three of you laughing your heads off not caring about the looks from the people around you.

♤♡◇♧

“She looks just like you, you know?” Wanda’s head turns to look at you with a raised brow as you watch Mia go down one of the slides into a ball pit in the indoor play area; you and Wanda sitting at a table and chairs not too far away enjoying a well earned coffee. 

“You think?” You hum, turning to look at Wanda, as she turns to watch Mia with a smile as she climbs the witch's steps to the top of the area. 

“I do. I have seen pictures of you from when you were her age. She looks just like you did.” Wanda smiles into her coffee, her eyes not leaving Mia who is giggling as another young girl she has befriended chases her through the jungle section. 

“I was always told I looked like my mama when I was younger.” She swallows harshly, hiding her emotions as she takes another sip of her drink. 

“Well from the very few pictures I have seen of your mother, I can say it is indeed very true.” Wanda smiles to herself putting her drink down on the table finally taking her eyes off Mia and turning to you. 

“You know sometimes I wish she was here to see her grow up. Helping us through it and giving that wonderful motherly advice that a mother is meant to give you. I mean of course your mom has been amazing…”

“But it’s not the same.” Wanda smiles sadly at you giving a small shake of her head.

“No, and it's not that I am being ungrateful or that I truly don’t appreciate what Melina did to help get us where we are. It would have just been amazing to be this one big happy family, with my parents and Pietro here. Nat and Yelena are two wonderful aunts, they do everything with her including taking her on adventures in the forests and around the lakes. I just wish that Pietro could be chasing after her playing games in the backyard. They’ve missed so much and, and I just wish that this part of my life is something I could share with them.” 

You listen to every word she has to say, but your eyes watch Mia who is still playing with her new friend, taking them in and letting Wanda get out what she needs. Her hand reaches for yours pulling your eyes back to her as she smiles at you with a few fresh tears in the corner of her eyes. You lean over, placing your lips gently on hers giving her a quick but soft kiss, one that makes her heart melt and smile as you pull away. She goes back to watching Mia as you take a sip of your coffee, admiring her side profile as she smiles upon hearing your daughter’s laughter. 

“I want another one.” You choke on your drink, coffee spilling over the edge of the mug and onto the table as you cough harshly a sting in your nose as you realise coffee has shot out of there too. 

“You wha?” You splutter, grabbing a napkin to wipe your nose and mouth as your face burns red and your nose and throat sore, Wanda rubbing your back as she gives you an apologetic smile. “You want another?”

“Yeah.” She breathes out, her eyes moving to watch Mia who runs towards the two of you with her new friend in tow.

“Mama, mom. This is Morgan, she’s my new friend. Morgan, this is my mama and my mom, they are lesbeans.” You choke again, this time on air just as Wanda does the two young girls raising their brows at your reactions. 

“Morgan.” You all turn to see a blonde lady walking over to you, a sweet smile on her face as her eyes scan the scene. “Morgan, who's this dear?”

“Mom, this is Mia, my new friend. These are her mommies. She says they are lesbeans. What does that mean?” Morgan’s mom lets out a small giggle bending down to the girl's height, moving some hair behind her ears. 

“Well do you know how mommy and daddy love each other very much?” Morgan hums with a nod, you and Wanda watching with amused smiles as your daughter listens too even though she knows exactly what it means. “Well Mia’s moms love each other very much too. So instead of having a mommy and daddy Mia has two mommies.” 

“Oh.” You all look at Morgan who takes in the information. “That's so cool. Mommy why aren’t you a lesbean, I want another mommy too.” 

“You dads sassy enough to pass as the girl in our marriage. Now go play.” You and Wanda chuckle as Morgan pulls Mia with her back towards the ball pit as they both giggle away to one another. All three of you adults watching them with fond smiles, but your breath catching in your throat as Wanda’s lips brush against your ear. 

“So, when do you want baby number 2?” 

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

[ofbakerst]

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wasted 2

Warnings: drug dealing/use, violence, noncon, and the usual. Proceed with caution.

Feedback is always welcome. Love you and thanks for the wonderful responses so far.♥♥♥♥

Part of The Club AU

You’ve reached the next plain of existence. That special level of drunk where you forget just enough of your doubts and problems to truly unwind. You don’t think about your dress riding up or how the strap of your dress slips down your arm. You are free.

There’s only one problem. You have to break the seal. You set aside your empty cup and shout above the remix of Rihanna to Heidi and Faye. Neither of them offer to come with you as they bounce to the beat. Oh well, you can handle a trip to the bathroom.

You turn on your clunky heels, wobbling a little before you get your feet right. You steady yourself and strut between the dancers pulsating around you. You giggle as you see a particularly eager guy grinding on a girl without a sliver of interest.

You mind the step on the way down from the dancefloor. You don’t want to be kicked out for being overserved. Again. 

You stroll past the bar and eye the man behind it as he shakes a metal mixer. You could probably go for another drink once you pee. You just need to clear the way.

You head towards the bright doorway on the opposite end of the bar and as you peer around the line of stools, your eyes meet those of another. You recognise the man from earlier, even as his face is shrouded in shadows. He’s the reason your skin is sticky with vodka and juice. Is he checking you out?

You shrug it off and roll your eyes. That’s the thing about clubs, they’re always full of creepers. If the guy wanted to buy you a drink, he had a perfect opportunity earlier.

You refocus on your destination. Your bladder makes it hard to forget. You sigh as there’s no queue for the bathroom and you quickly dip into the only free stall. You pull down your panties and hover above the seat as you urge yourself to let go.

As the pressure lets out, you hang your head back, eyelids drooping as your vision doubles. You feel good, very good. Why can’t you feel like this all the time?

You finish up and stumble out to the sinks. You blink at your reflection as you wash your hands. A girl comes out of the other stall and wavers up beside you. She looks at you in the mirror and grins. 

“I love your dress,” she chimes.

“Oh, thanks,” you slur, “like yours too.”

You shut off the sink and grab some paper towel. You dry your hands and float out of the bathroom, high on the compliment. The best kind of praise is that from drunk girls in bathrooms.

You fan yourself as the heat of the crowd surrounds you. The coolness of the bathroom makes it even more obvious as you emerge. You should get a breath of cold air, maybe sober up before you get a refill.

You grip your purse, keeping it from bouncing on your hip, and sidle along to the stairs. You go down to the door and greet the bouncer with a smile. You look at your hand and hold it out.

“Washed my stamp off,” you chirp, “please and thanks.”

He doesn’t say a word as he presses another inky smear to the back of your hand. You wink and go out onto the street. The line is all but gone as the early hours tick by. Last call soon. 

You lean against the brick and look up at the starry sky. Ugh, you’ll have to pay for a cab home. Or maybe you can crash at Heidi’s, she lives only a block away. That’s the thing about her, you always end up at the place closest to her apartment.

Another figure emerges from the club doors. You don’t look over as it blurs the edge of your vision. You push your head back and blow out a vodka laced breath. The man passes by, only then catching your full attention. 

He turns and stops, leaning beside you against the wall as he tucks his hands in his pockets. You peek over at him and sneer. It’s the same guy.

“What do you want?” You snarl.

“I should ask you the same,” his voice is rocky, timbre so deep it rolls through you.

“What’s that mean?” You ask and quickly seal your lips against a hiccup.

“Seems like you’re enjoying yourself,” he remarks, “I got something that could make it even better.”

You squint and shake your head. “I don’t wanna suck your dick, dude.”

“Not exactly what I’m offering but you might change your mind once you get a hit.”

“What are you fuckin’ rambling about?” 

You push yourself away from the wall and grab at your purse. You flip the flap up and fish around inside. You ground your heel into the pavement and pull out the pack of smokes; another careless purchase. You only really smoke when you’re drinking.

“Shit’s bad for you,” he tuts as he watches you. You meet his gaze and almost dissolve at the intensity. He slips his hand out of his pocket, giving a peek of a small baggie of tablets, “wanna roll?”

You keep from flicking on the lighter as you consider his offer. You don’t really have the money to be spending on pills. Besides, you’re already pretty fucked up.

“Shit in there is watered down” he tucks the bag back in his pocket, “This stuff’s pure. It’ll get you goin’.”

You let the cigarette dangle between your lips as you stare skeptically.

“I owe you a drink, right?” He smirks.

[starrbright]

Last Degree Of Nature | Nanami K.

Stay longer in me. Take root. Vera Pavlova, A Weight on My Back (tr. Steven Seymour)

January 5, 2024—April 5

Last continuation for Prof. Nanami: X | X | X | X |

3k words. Sickening fluff, honestly. No smut, really sorry for that. 🙇🏽‍♀️🫶🏼🫂

image used: X | a quote i used is from the 2014 film 'about time'

I had a bad case of baby fever after december 14, so......yeah. And I really was going through it and I thought of this.

Still going through it.

A few months has passed. Everything continues to go well with Nanami. Too well. Is it stupid? Honestly, you could swear it is. You sigh under your breath, tutting your head sharply to wipe away the thoughts but it comes back, the voice of your professor speaking up almost unheard, what she discusses just passes by through your ears.

Your fingers gripped around your pen tightly and loose and tighten again and again in the moment of being filled with worrying bits, at least is is for you. It's difficult not to fall on your head on the table and try to bear away what's been stirring you for a bit of awhile now.

How could you even begin to explain what you're going through. Maybe it's normal. Maybe it's too early.

And it is normal. But it is too early.

Yet, God....like again, how could you not be in the state you're in--when the two of you have been nothing but lovesick fools. When he's been someone so, a man you never dared to wish for.

You've lost count how many times you drifted far off from replaying memories in a loop.

The first time you stepped into his home, it was one what would expect for a man like him. A home out of a novel. Grand but mirrored familiarity. You were glad for him to have seem that he knew of the warm little things that makes life big before he met you.

That's what it seemed. If one would only look once and flat, they'll only see how he presents himself; gray. And a big part of him is, his life and what makes him he.

Figurines of what a home is to fill the spaces.

And then along came you to be the muse of his colorful but now he realizes--empty canvases.

There never seemed to be a missing piece even when he seeked out to satisfy his flesh. Even when you arrived in his life only for both of your indulgence. There never was.

Until his heart wanted itself to be given to you. Until he offered and you accepted it. He found there were endless crevices that could be filled more beautifully.

To see you free roaming in his home. To have you in his arms, laying back against his chest as you read a book, with him savoring the rest he can have with you, free from the confines of his work for a while.

The sun beaming through the windows while the wind flows against the curtains. The shine of the sun on your brown skin, the specks of dust he sees from the light, every little marks and dots of hairs on your arm. With him holding you as he beholds all those; he's frozen in time. And what he'd give to capture every moment. To let it flow endlessly.

It doesn't need to be said, it's in all of it already anyways--at least not yet. One would say there's the kind of rush in the beauty of just letting it be.

Though how long? How long until it can be sees as not too early?

How much more walking through it to be enough?

A few times you two have been in the café you're now in to study, to wash yourself away from the distractions. Him, who else.

Though it's been less than ten minutes of being in the place, after being in the queue and now that it was your turn to order. The cashier already familiared of you, has a little smile, almost barely showing but it's a knowing one--and when you felt a presence behind you, she laughs.

Widened eyes as you recognized the scent of a perfume, the way those arms encircled around you, the squeeze of fingers to the side of your stomach. His voice. " Angel. " He greets sweetly with a kiss on your cheek.

You couldn't find your words, too abashed at his sudden presence, let alone in public as you both stand in the line, let alone the fine man holding a boquet in his other hand as he holds his woman. "Let's go." He says before you could even protest, he's already given an ample of money for someone who didn't buy anything, he's already got your things from the table you're supposed to be--he's already had you sitting in his car.

"I'm supposed to be studying." You spoke at last.

"I know." he only chuckles. "But I missed you." He simply adds as he leans close you, a hand delicately firm on your cheek to kiss your lips. The thick presence of his perfume dizzying against the vibrant scent of the flowers--to the way he drowns you with kisses.

How unfair.

And how cliche it is. You hadn't thought Nanami would have ever pulled the kind of act, In the library, among the aisles of bookshelves, you're pinned back against a shelf as he kisses you. But then again he has fucked you more than enough times in the campus.

You couldn't say it wasn't adorable that he asked for this. His office was a building away from where you're both in as he's to lecture in a few minutes and you to attend your own classes, so that is where you ended up; making do in the library for a mere time of kissing.

"This is risky." You uttered in haste the second you both stepped in the quiet facility, to which he only hushed with another one of his, 'I know'

Next thing you know, he's hovering tall in front of you, one of his arm laying against the shelf, the other on the side of your face. "Hi." He breathes. There's no smile on him. How is it possible his eyes says otherwise.

"Hi." Nothing from your voice but just a gentle mouth of the word, a mere smile painting to be wide.

Then it slowly fell as his thumb grazes on your lips. "Let me kiss you." he still utters those kind of words. Never fails to take your breath each time.

Resolve melting away every time.

The last one recently, one which is all too vivid in your head--was the last straw to have enable all the want for more.

It was the morning of Sunday when Nanami called. yourself fresh from breakfast and was just about to wash the dishes. He tells it was Gojo who planted the idea in his mind just last night from their usual night out to drink, and he himself wasn't opposed to said idea--he liked it, really. Despite he wouldn't credit Gojo too much for it, of course. A dinner later in his home, that is. With the two men and their children.

How could you say no?

You were too happy to prepare and cook all those dishes with him in his kitchen before the night arrives. Amidst a few conversation about Gojo and Geto, their children as well, the conversation went to a boy named Yuuji.

The said boy whom Nanami has invited for later. Telling of the little story as you continue all the work in the kitchen,

Evident that the man is very fond of the boy. Spoke of how Yuuji's late grandfather was the owner of the flower shop he sometimes go to before you both happened, the said boy taking over after while still studying along in the same school and class with Megumi. Spoke of how a good kid he is. Spoke of how the boy told him that his grandfather would have liked to meet the woman Nanami has found, the old man would've been over the moon to know the flowers Nanami usually buy for his house now would be for a lover. Spoke of how Yuuji was always thrilled when he walks in the shop, having known it'll be for you. Which all led to him insisting the kid to go for the dinner, telling how he literally brightened up when he heard it.

You couldn't wait for the night to arrive.

But nothing could have prepared you for it.

As some have said, 'no one can prepare you for the love people you love can feel for them.'

All so suddenly your nerves flutter rapidly when footsteps and voices make itself known further. "That would be them." Nanami says with a little laugh following as he wipes his hands with a kitchen towel before heading to them.

Though you only remain standing behind the island, your hands fresh off the powdered sugar from sprinkling them on the now done strawberry cake you made; a dessert for the kids, but of course much more for Nanami and Gojo that your man has told you who has a bigger sweet tooth than anyone else.

Your wandering mind filled with nervousness in those short seconds was abruptly interrupted with adorable loud voices of little girls as they run in the kitchen and around to the dining room. The three professors following after and behind them is who you figured to be Megumi and Yuuji. The pink haired boy must be certainly Yuuji, by his sunshine air and the beautifully arranged flowers he holds, eyes wide with a big smile. Megumi besides him with the jet black hair and cool demeanor he has. The little girls Nanami has told earlier, Nanako and Mimiko who were now running back to the kitchen, towards where you are, little hands reaching up on the edge of the counter and tiptoeing. Loudly delighted with the cake they see.

"They really rubbed off from Satoru." Geto huffs, a mere annoyance in his voice but the fondness in his calm eyes tells so much.

"They're children." Nanami reasons expectedly, the calmest smile on his face, eyes flickering to you. Your heart just keeps on fluttering.

"And I'm your soon to be husband." None other than Gojo speaks as ever proud he is, to which only Geto, Nanami and Megumi rolled their eyes to. You, Yuuji, Nanako and Mimiko however--and despite the little girl's already knows, they have the same look of awe you and Yuuji have. "That's....that's lovely." You speak up softly, wiping your hands clean.

"Congrats." Yuuji barely stopped himself from seemingly shouting.

Then Geto laughs lightly, "Thank you." Walking up to the counter with the bag he holds, delightfully reeking of a savory scent, Gojo as well with two bottles of expensive looking alcohol. "I asked him just last night--" he begins with a wide grin but was cut off by his fiance. "Barely. He was too drunk when he did." Geto scoffs as he takes out a food container from the paper bag. "I had to get hammered, I was too scared!" Gojo protests as he pop opens the one bottle of alcohol and looked for glasses.

"He couldn't have done it normally despite feeling so." Nanami chimes in simply as he starts to set up the dishes on the table, making Gojo just following him across the dining room with the glasses now on his hands, his own already filled as he goes with his mouth.

Leaving you with Geto as the two boys goes there as well, lightly playing along with the little girls as they converse.

"It's nice to see you again." Geto says while now helping you prepare all the little things for dinner to begin and go well. "In this kind of setting, I mean." he adds, a light chuckle he makes. Having seen you a few times in the campus, of course, with Nanami secretely or just around. "And I'm glad, by the way."

You nod, abashment about your relationship with their friend almost not there anymore. "The same to you. And I'm glad as well." Happily, you smile.

At last dinner began. If simply meeting them all has had your heart growing so much, you couldn't be more wrong. You were worriedly too happy to be wrong.

That's where you begin to get.....scared.

And how you now find yourself after days and days of contemplating it--standing in front of the door of Geto's office.

Doubts of confronting it plainly gone, you were just aching to let it all out, but not yet to the man himself, so instead it's Geto. You think it's only fitting for you to go to him.

Sighing almost tiredly, you then knock on the door, when you walk in and he's met by you. He just lightly smiles and nodded for you to go in. You sit on the chair across from him where he's still on his laptop, as your eyes are nowhere on particular, gathering the bare strength to speak it out at last--he just waits for you speak, having already as expectedly guess what the subject will be or rather who about.

You breathe deeply as your head turns away before it goes back to him.

"I think I want to marry Kento."

Geto's focus stops, fingers typing away on a sudden halt, gaze now to you and eyebrows raised, "Ah." His very mere shock fades slowly into a small smile.

"Yeah," you let out barely, lolling your head to the side. Your ears at last hearing those words, it suddenly feels ridiculous. But the arrow has already been shot in you. Too much and maddening it is, still you don't want it to go away.

You find yourself then to be unwavering. The resolve finding its permanent stay.

A shaking breath flows out of your mouth, a trembling hand ghosts on your forehead as you look down. "I want to marry him." Never mind your unsteady voice, you want to say it endlessly.

Nostalgia waves pass by Geto with what reveals. Several months ago, Nanami spoke you're the one. His everything. And there you are now with an admission any longing being would dream to hear for their own. He looks at his engagement ring. A few weeks earlier, his lover was clinging to him as he tear up, drunk, asking to marry him, rambling how he wants eternity with him, promising he'll be the bestest father for their children.

He didn't ever think their lives would be this happy, he only hoped.

Geto is wordless to say the least.

His eyes back on you, it's the mellowest you've ever seen on him, mouth opening slowly, it's what he thinks to say then. "Satoru wouldn't be too happy with a double wedding. You know how extra he is--"

A breathless laugh you make in a light disbelief, "I'm serious." You say in exasperation, tears starting to fill your eyes.

Geto just smiles gently, not saying aything. What more could be said when you're just too happy for a friend, to contentedly know that until an end, they won't be alone.

"What are you waiting for?"

Going on with your day after was still as distracting, it wasn't heavy anymore though. You don't remember when was the last time you were excited to see him again without any hesitations.

When you do at the end of the day, in his house, finding rest in each other's warmth, your heart remains to be thrumming of that same thrilling joy when time has allowed you both to be with each other again, that same rhythm of feeling when you first began to have a crush on him.

And in the quietness, you deem it's time to make it known to him.

As he keeps himself cozy with his face buried on your neck, your soft body laying against his chest and in between his legs--gently, you rose from his hold and awaking him in the process. You sit yourself back on the couch as he looks at you curiously, while ever sweetly gentle, your hands still twined as he makes so. So much for how much more.

After all the time of thinking about it, you didn't see the need nor want to beat around.

" I want to marry you. "

How does one even take that in?

You were sure you've never seen your lover lose the composure on his face like that. It's nothing but pleasant.

"Marry me." The bliss in saying it, truly.

And hearing it from you, seeing your smile you evidently keep from widening, the stars in your eyes. You've taken him from his paradise to a place far greater than he would ever thought of.

You've truly taken him aback this time. He hadn't seen you were visioning the same piece as him. It seemed both of you were going through the same dilemma after all. Drowned too deep to have seen it.

You hadn't seen his eyes looking at your ring finger when his hand is entangled to yours, thikning of all the kinds of rings you'd love. How could you have possibly know he's been wishing for you to never leave his house when the night falls, for him to wake each morning with you in his arms, to get up earlier than you and make you breakfast, have and enjoy meals together without looking at the time.

You didn't see what he was painting with his eyes upon dinner that one night. How you light yourself a flame and the kids a magnet to you.

Suddenly when he holds you from behind, his hand yearned to feel a life within you. Voices of little ones echoing pleasantly in his mind. Angels running around his home.

Despite unspoken, unknown; you've been meeting halfway.

Nanami let his lips break into an opened smile, a little laugh breathing out as he tightens his twined hand on yours. "You read my mind."

Your cheeks could already hurt from smiling so much, but couldn't find any words after, you only laid your hand on both of yours, pressing your lips on his knuckles and feel your eyes ache from the tears collecting. Your lover's smile turned gentle as he sees you. " Marry me. " He murmurs. Simply indulging himself in saying it. "I'll marry you. And you of me." He says, returning your kisses on both of your hands.

You feel what he feels when he said them, and he feels what you felt when you answered yes.

Laughter flows in the halls of his home when he takes you in his whole hold once again.

"Satoru wouldn't want a double wedding--"

"I would not dream  of being in the same altar at the same time with that man."

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 Finally done with this 😭😭😭🗣️🙏🏽 i am so tired. just went to our dance practice for a subject and finished this after and still have to type it all after just writing it on paper as usual😀🫠 but here we are, and back home and still am miserable, ive been so busy with college, and it's midnight here, i have a group reporting tomorrow and i barely studied about it🫶🏼🫂 anyways, i thought of writing my little thoughts about this story, im sorry if it's silly or shit😭

i had nanami in his thirties, while our reader is twenty-five. i hadn't thought of what she's taking, really. i honestly forgot what nanami's expertise is 🤸🏾‍♀️ geto teaches art and field study 1, while gojo is in physics and physical education. they had nanako and mimiko just after they were born, heard from someone they know that the little girls' mother couldn't raise them, so they referred themselves willingly. megumi in an orphanage after the girls have grown. i really wish i involved shoko and haibara😔😔😔😔💔😔💔😔💔😔💔😔 let's just think of them being there. especially in their weddings😁 also while at campus earlier, i randomly chose songs in my playlists to queue and one of them is 'that part' by lauren spencer smith and i realized how this work is fitting for that song 😭💔😭😭😭💔😔😭💔

[phantomspiderr]

Not A Bad Morning

Pairing: Steven Grant x gn!reader (ft. Marc Spector too)

Word Count: 2.5k+

Summary: Steven was just trying to have a stress free morning before his job interview but it just seems like everything’s against him

Warnings/Tags: not a lot of warnings really, it’s fluff. Steven has a little self doubt, reader has a dog, just a little meet cute in the park, Marc being soft and helping Steven

a/n: ohhhh Steven my beloved. Yes it's another Steven fic, sorrrrrrryyy. I promise I am working on other things, specifically a tlou fic if anyone is interested👀 also this is probably terrible but I hope you enjoy anyway

*(I orginally posted this last night but something kept happening to the end of the fic where it just kept deleting the last two paragraphs so we've had to make a new post and hope that works)

**any lines all in italics are Marc talking with Steven in case that isn’t clear

･☆: *.☽ .* :☆

The morning had not been kind to Steven.

It had started with him somehow snoozing his alarm without even waking up and the water in his shower had run ice cold. Then all his clothes seemed to be in the laundry pile and he had to borrow a pair of Jake’s trousers that he felt were a little too tight for his liking.

It felt like some sick joke when he’d opened the fridge and it was empty; bar some dodgy-looking carrots, out-of-date oat milk, and a single egg—why is there just one egg?? Is it really that difficult to do a food shop??— so he had no breakfast and very little time. He makes a mental note to berate Marc or Jake the next time they show up on body sharing etiquette and making sure there’s bloody food in the fridge.

Steven was slowly losing hope for the day and it wasn't even 10am. He'd tried his hardest to plan the day to the tee. It’s been all he’s been able to think about since he saw the ad for his dream job and had been lucky enough to get an interview for it. He had wanted to make sure it was the least stressful it could've been but it was as if the universe wasn't on his side today.

Now he’s impatiently waiting in line at a local coffee shop, his foot incessantly taps against the floor as he anxiously checks his watch every few seconds.

You have plenty of time.

“Shut up,” Steven mutters quietly, looking off to the side into a mirror where he can see his own—slightly disheveled—reflection. A stranger gives him an offended look as they walk past, “not you-I-sorry!” He turns around to stare at the back of the person in fronts head and tries to act somewhat normal, giving Marc a cold shoulder in the process.

Stop stressing out.

Steven rubs at his temple while willing the queue to move even a fraction of a second quicker.

You’re going to get the job.

This time Steven sighs, this is one of those times he wishes he could just stick his fingers in his ears and hum a tune to drown out Marc’s voice.

Even if you don’t, it’s not the end of the world. We can go somewhere else. It’d be their loss.

There are just two more people in front, he can ignore him just a little longer.

You can’t ignore me forever.

A little more passive-aggressively than he’d normally be, Steven, rummages in his bag for his phone. Then he theatrically pretends to make a phone call.

“Hiya just wanted to let you know I’m fine.” He glances back to the mirror to see Marc with an unamused look and his arms crossed over his chest.

Sure you are.

“No, I’m not stressed.”

Clearly.

“I wish you’d stop saying I was because if anything that stresses me out more yeah?”

The tone in Steven’s voice is one that says he’s on the end of his tether and this time Marc just holds his hands up, not saying a word. Steven softens a little when after a beat Marc just gives him a look that says, ‘you are stressed out and I just want to help.’

“I appreciate you trying to help. I’ll talk to you later.” He pulls the phone away from his ear and gives his alter a final look in the mirror before turning back to see there’s no one in front of him now and the barista is waving their hand at him.

Now, with a fresh cup of tea and a surprisingly good looking vegan blueberry muffin secured, he takes the shortcut through the park to get to the museum on the other side. He went to check his watch, somehow forgetting the cup of hot tea in his hand and almost spilling it on himself. There was plenty of time for him to sit on that bench at the other end of the park, near the lake, where he could calmly enjoy his breakfast before his interview.

The park seems quiet enough that Steven feels comfortable talking with Marc now without worrying about people around hearing him. “You still there?” He asks the question while simultaneously knowing the answer.

Mhmm.

“Do you really think I’ll get the job?” Steven’s anxiety and self-doubt creep out with every word.

I already told you, if you don’t it’s their loss. Marc’s softens after a rather sad-looking Steven catches a glimpse of him in a passing puddle. You’re more knowledgeable on all that stuff than anyone else and you can do that job better than anyone.

“But what if…what if they just don’t like me, like how Donna didn’t?” Steven won’t even look at Marc as he passes another puddle, more interested in the plain-looking pathway below his feet.

Fuck Donna. And fuck them if they don’t like you.

Marc’s voice has an edge to it then before he relaxes again, remembering his goal is to soothe Steven’s anxiety, not make it worse.

Which they will…

…like you I mean!

People find your clumsy nature endearing.

Fuck, I’m not great at this.

The last sentence makes Steven chuckle just a little because Marc may not be the best with words but at least he tries.

As Steven goes to reply his thoughts are interrupted by shouting, for a second he’s so in his head he thinks it’s Marc but it sounds too far away and he looks up just in time to see a big dog bounding towards him. He doesn’t even have a second to react before the dog jumps onto him, knocking his tea completely out of his hand as he falls backward and lands on his ass with a thud. The dog continues to excitedly jump at him and tries to lick at his face despite him squirming as it does so.

“Val!” The shouting continues, this time much closer and it sounds like someone is running, “I’m so sorry! Val get off!” Suddenly the dog is pulled off of him and Steven’s a little dazed by what just happened. He blinks up at you, his eyes squinting because of the sun's brightness. Maybe that’s why he thinks you look like a literal angel standing above him. The sunlight behind you causes your silhouette to be surrounded by a ring of bright yellow light. “I am so so sorry! She’s a friend's dog and she’s just a pup. I’m just walking her while my friend’s away. I’m so sorry the lead slipped out of my hand and she just bolted.”

Either get up or talk please, this is painful to watch.

“Oh.” Steven’s head kicks into gear again and he awkwardly gets back up onto his feet, wincing slightly when he rubs a hand over his now sore lower back. “It’s okay, accidents happen.”

“I’m so sorry, I hope she didn’t hurt you. Shit, you’ve dropped your drink. Here-“ you start rummaging around in your pocket.

“Oh no, it’s okay! Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t a great cup of tea anyway.” That was a lie. It cost about £6 and was actually a pretty good tea that he only got on special occasions, like today when the world seems against him.

“I’m so sorry,” your eyes look so apologetic and Steven still feels a little dazed while looking at you. He thinks you look like you belong in a museum, amongst the marble statues and fancy oil paintings. You’re something that should be admired by everyone.

Steven, the attractive person is talking to you and you need to talk back, like now.

Steven barely has a second to form any thoughts before Marc speaks again.

Let me front.

“No!” It comes out before he even properly thinks about it and he tries his best to play it off, “no don’t be sorry. What kind of dog is it?” He tries to shift the conversation so you hopefully don’t think too much about how weird he is acting.

“Oh… she’s a rescue so they think lurcher but my friend swears she’s part collie too!” You’re fondly looking at the dog while Steven observes you for just a second more, “she usually listens really well but apparently, we need to work on not running off and jumping strangers. Huh, Valkyrie?” Both the dog and you look at each other affectionately as you scratch behind her ear.

“That’s a really nice name, it’s from Norse mythology right?” Steven likes it when you smile right at him, a quiet giggle slipping out.

“Uh, yeah. That and I think my friend is in love with the king of New Asgard.” You both laugh this time and Steven thinks it’s the nicest sound he’s heard in a long time.

Then there’s an awkward moment of silence and Steven just doesn’t know how to keep the conversation going or if you even want to keep the conversation going and now he slightly wishes he’d let Marc front. Marc’s always better at flirting with people in regular conversation, he can pick up on certain social cues Steven is blind to. Steven wants to flirt with you, he was just immediately drawn to you and he wants to get to know you so badly, he just doesn’t know how.

Ask for their name or introduce yourself.

Marc’s voice filters through Steven’s self doubting thoughts.

“I’m Steven,” it comes out quickly and forcefully before he can overthink it and his hand flies out in your direction. He can barely look at you his eyes flickering anywhere but at you. That is until your hand slips into his, your hand’s a little cold but it feels nice in his slightly clammy one and he watches your smile grow after you say your name. Quietly he repeats it to himself as a way for his brain to better remember it and he really just likes the way it sounds.

“I’m really sorry again, can I buy you another cup of tea? There’s a cart just down this path that sells hot drinks.” He thinks he’s maybe getting ahead of himself or looking too closely into it but he really likes the idea of spending more time with you. Marc catches him just before he ultimately agrees immediately without another thought.

Steven, your interview.

“Oh sh-!” He reluctantly pulls his hand from yours to check his watch only to see time has somehow run away from him. Now he suddenly has very little time to get to the museum. “I’m sorry I have an interview for this dream job of mine in like ten minutes and it’s probably going to take me that long to run there!”

“Oh.” Is that disappointment seeping into your features? “That’s okay,” just like that it’s gone and you’re smiling at him again, “I owe you a cup of tea then Steven.”

“After?” It comes out a little more like a forceful statement rather than a polite question. He just had to say it before his brain chickened out. Now you’re looking at him confused, quietly repeating the word he just uttered.

Steven, buddy, you gotta say a little more.

“I’m trying,” he quickly mumbles to the side before turning back to you and more cautiously speaking this time, “maybe we could- if you want to-maybe you’d want to-"

Steven, calm, breathe.

He pauses and takes a deep breath, his eyes falling closed for just a second. When they open you’re still there. You’re real and you’re still standing in front of him, curiously waiting on him to speak again. That beautiful smile still gracing your face and he’s lost again, lost in the calm of your eyes on him.

Steven.

“Do you want to meet after?” Marc’s voice reminds him of what he was trying to say and it comes out more smoothly than he expected. Maybe that’s down to Marc being even closer to the front, almost slipping into control of the body for just a moment.

“Oh.” Steven thinks he’s misread the situation—it wouldn’t be the first time—because you look surprised. Just as he opens his mouth to rescind the offer and apologise profusely you speak again. “I-I’d love that,” Steven watches as a grin spreads across your face and he mirrors your expression.

As much as I want to see how this pans out, we’re late.

“Shi-!” Steven checks his watch just to confirm even though he already knows he’s more than late at this point, “I have to go!”

The last thing he wants to do is leave and he awkwardly moves to do so before something else inside him fights it. If this wasn’t his dream job he’d forget all about the interview and just stay here in the park with you. Maybe you could walk around the water and sit with a cup of tea on a bench, and get to know each other better.

“Go! Go!” You’re gently shooing him off so he listens, and forces his feet to move but he keeps looking back at you as he takes the first few steps. Val tugs on the end of her lead, a little cry escaping as she looks at Steven and then back to you.

Wait!

Steven halts abruptly almost falling over his own feet.

Give them your number!

Frantically Steven rushes back over to you, Val now pulling you almost off your feet as she excitedly taps her paws on the ground. How did he somehow forget a crucial part?! He quickly rummages in his bag and pulls out the receipt from the coffee shop, a loose pen, and some crumbs from his forgotten, now squished muffin.

“Here,” he messily scribbles down something that resembles his phone number and quickly decides to add a little note on the end. You delicately take the note when he offers it, smiling as you glance over it before looking at Steven again. His face hurts from how much he’s smiling, “see you later then?” When you excitedly nod he adorably waves as he starts to back away again. Steven walks backward for a second longer than he probably should just so he can admire the way you’re still standing smiling at him too. Reluctantly he pulls his eyes away from you and turns, breaking into a light jog as Marc reminds him they're late once again. Steven takes one last look at you, he’s surprised you’re still standing there reading over his little note with a large smile still plastered to your face.

You did a good job back there.

The small compliment makes Steven feel good. He'd been working hard with Marc on communication. Learning to breathe and formulate his words better in conversation and it seems the hard work is paying off.

Steven takes one final look at you before he speeds into more of a run, his heart now racing for another reason. Even now when he nervously answers the interviewer's question his mind stays stuck on you. He can't stop thinking about how nice you looked or the way you smiled so brightly-

Steven, focus!

[starlazergazer]

Trapped

Pairing: Anakin x Reader

Request: The reader is a prisoner of war when Anakin and the other jedi find them and saves them ending up falling in love

Warnings: descriptions of claustrophobia

Word count: 6.5K

A/N: Okay so I may have taken this in a rather different direction following more the spirit of the request than anything else so if anyone wants me to write this again staying more true to the request let me know!! I may do it anyways because I had so many ideas on how to do this and had so much fun writing it lol. But if anyone has any other requests please send them my way I would love to write them!!! Thanks y’all and happy holidays!!

  You had done a lot of stupid stuff in your time here but this had to take the cake.

Stealing food, blankets, clothing? Sure that made sense, people needed basic necessities and the prison guards liked to hoard them.

Sneaking around to scout any possible escape routes? How else are you supposed to stand any chance at breaking out?

But breaking into the commander’s office? That didn’t make any sense whatsoever.

You weren’t even sure what you were looking for, all you knew was something was calling to you here, an invisible string tying you to the locked office and you weren’t sure you could ignore the connection for much longer.

And because of that when the door slid open and you were met with an empty office you had to pause, had to give yourself a second to decide where to start looking, and what to start looking for.

But the pull hadn’t gone away like you had expected it to when you walked in, it got stronger if anything, more precise. The desk.

You followed the pull without question, feet carrying you quickly across the room to the desk on the other side of it, facing the door. And your hand knew what to do, on instinct going to the third drawer at the bottom, softly pulling it open.

And inside sat a glowing cube, something unlike anything you had ever seen before. You hesitated at first, thoughts running briefly through your head wondering if it was dangerous, and yet something seemed to quiet them, to assure you that it wasn’t, that you were meant to have it.

The cube seemed to hum softly as you picked it up, holding it up to the light hoping to discover anything more about it, though there was nothing. Nothing but intricate metal work backlit by light.

Close your eyes.

The words seemed to come into your mind as if they were placed there by someone else. But that didn’t really scare you, instead you listened, closing your eyes, picturing the cube in your mind.

From there it all seemed so natural, a twist of this corner, slide of a panel, unfolding of the figure, the cube seemed to undo itself in your head.

Then you opened your eyes to see the cube in your hands doing the same, now lying flat before you, then a hologram appeared.

You nearly dropped the cube in surprise, jumping back slightly as a man appeared in your hands staring up at you.

Then the door opened.

You froze on the spot, eyes going wide as you stared at the tall man standing in the doorway now, all thoughts of the hologram immediately gone from your mind.

But his expression nearly mirrored yours, eyes wide, mouth hanging open slightly, gaze jumping between you and the cube in your hands.

And almost on queue it snapped shut, jumping slightly in the air before landing back in your hands, perfectly resembling the same cube you had found in the desk just minutes before.

“How did you-?” the man was asking you a question though all you could focus on was the way he got closer, very aware of the wall just behind your back limiting your own range of movement.

Instinctively you pulled the cube back towards you, ushering it behind your back, not missing the way the man’s hands came up in front of him at the sight of it disappearing from his view. So he was here for the same thing you were.

“Look-“ Again he was speaking but you paid little mind to his words, using the corners of your eyes to scan the room, just barely catching a door to your left in your peripheral vision.

The man had slowed his pace towards you as you hid the cube, giving you the perfect opportunity.

With the briefest look into the strangers blue eyes you broke for that door, ignoring the man’s calls to wait as the door to what turned out to be a bedroom shut behind you.

You didn’t give yourself an opportunity to take in the commander’s room as you would have liked, instead you broke for the door across the way, every instinct within you telling you to protect the cube.

You heard the door to the office slide open just as you went through the next one into the hallway, not taking the time to think about where you were going, just picking a direction and sticking to it.

You skidded around corners, bumping into walls as you didn’t take the time to slow down but threw your gaze over your shoulder periodically, catching glimpses of the stranger following you.

You came to another T in the hallway and picked left on a whim, eyes darting down the next hallway as you ran, not expecting the flash of yellow you caught as you did so, feet coming to a halt when you came face to face with an entire battalion of battle droids.

The two of you just stared at each other for a moment, each taking time to fully process the situation before you, you struggling to comprehend just how deep of shit you were in.

“The prisoner is escaping!” You heard a single robotic voice call out. And to your horror you watched as each droid raise its blaster, dozens of barrels pointed directly at you.

And you found that you couldn’t do anything about it, couldn’t do anything but stand there and brace yourself, eyes instinctively going shut.

Then you felt something crash into the side of you, sending you down onto your shoulder just beyond the corner just as a dozen blasters sounded.

Your eyes shot open to see the stranger hovering just above you, nose mere inches from your own as he stared down at you, a hint of a smile on his lips as you heaved, trying to catch his breath from the chase “Oh now you decide to stop running”

“I-uh” You weren’t sure where you were going with the sentence, relieved to see he wasn’t waiting for it either. Pushing himself to his feet he offered his hand out to you, not really giving you time to grab it before he was pulling you up to your feet and further down the hallway.

“You got me lost” he groaned as he took the first turn, never slowing down as he barreled down the hallway with you in tow, his hand still firmly grasped around your own, scared you were going to break away with the cube.

And mentally you were glad your earlier scouting of the facility served you well “go left”

He didn’t question you, didn’t think twice about trusting you before he banked hard, turning left just as you had told him, not bothering to ask for further directions, knowing you would provide them.

“Right” you told him quickly, and again he obeyed, taking the next right, getting not more than a few steps before he screeched to a halt.

You slammed into his back as he did so, your shoulder hitting his hard as you fell forward, the stranger pulling you back to him with your hand, pulling you into his chest briefly to steady you before letting go.

And you were ready to rear on him, demand what was that about, when you heard it, footsteps, dozens of footfalls too well timed to be anything but droids, headed right for you.

You swore under your breath, looking desperately back at the stranger only to see him one step ahead of you, hand out before him pointed at a grate on the wall near the floor.

The grate flew off the wall and towards his hand and he tossed it aside, giving you little time to process what had just happened before he was gesturing you through the new hole in the wall.

Without thinking you took his hand that he held out to you, letting him help you down into the vent, the reality of your situation only hitting you once you were fully inside of the vent, unable to stretch out your arms or legs.

The man filed into the vent after you, pulling the grate back over the hole to hide your exit just in time for the droids to round the corner.

“Ok we just need to wait-“ the man was whispering to you but you couldn’t focus fully on his words, the only thing registering right now was the tightness of the space around you, the feeling of the walls of the duct closing in around you making it hard to breathe, your arms and legs immediately becoming uncomfortably sore for being unable to stretch out.

“Tight spaces” you managed to get out, trying to assure yourself that the space was big enough, that you weren’t stuck.

But still you could hear the echoes of your breath bouncing back at you, each one coming faster and faster as you could feel the nearness of the vent walls on each side.

You heard the man swear softly, a hand coming up to clench yours, another coming to your chin to pull your gaze to him.

“I need you to take a deep breath for me okay?” He asked softly but all you could do was shake your head, breath coming out in short, ragged bursts as you struggled to control it, struggled to feel like your lungs could ever hold enough air.

“I need you to try” he shook his head back, giving your hand a soft squeeze as he dropped the one from your chin “With me okay” And slowly he took a deep breath, in through the nose out through the mouth, waiting patiently for you to join him.

And despite every thought screaming at you to do otherwise you forced a long exhale, syncing your next inhale up with his, waiting until you heard him exhale to do the same.

“Good” he whispered back to you after a few breaths “You’re doing good, you’re going to be okay”

And though you could do no more than nod at the moment, too focused on your own breathing you knew he could feel your appreciation, the shift in your panic, as he turned back to the grate, ducking down slightly to look out of it.

“Looks like we may be clear” he whispered back to you, looking back out of the corner of his eyes though you could see the hint of a smile on his lips “ready to go”

“Please get me out of here” you said it on an exhale, already scooching closer to him, ready to crawl back through the gate.

He laughed softly under his breath, taking care this time to gingerly take the grate off the wall and softly set it down, climbing up to his feet and glancing around before extending his hand to you, helping you up to your own feet.

As soon as you were back in the hallway you took an even deeper breath, giving yourself a brief moment to fully stretch out your limbs, feeling the space around you.

You saw the stranger watching you out the corner of your eye, not in an impatient or pitying way but almost a curious one, his head slightly cocked as he watched you stretch out.

“Sorry” you whispered, starting to move further down the hallway close behind him “I don’t do well in tight spaces”

“don’t worry about it” he brushed it off quickly with the shake of his head “sorry I couldn’t find a better place to hide”

“Believe me you never have to apologize for saving my life” you laughed quietly before calling out your next instruction “left”

Again the man followed with no questions, turning down the next hall before asking you “where are you taking us?”

You couldn’t help but let the hint of a smile crawl up your face, looking at him through the side of your eye “you’ll see”

And despite everything he laughed a little at that, shaking his head slightly but following your directions nonetheless, you leading the both of you through the twisting hallways until you started to be able to hear the rush of water, knowing you were close.

The stranger didn’t say anything as you led him through the last door, darkness creeping over the two of you as nothing but the end of the wide mouthed cave was lit, the two of you taking little time to run to the end of it and look out over the massive waterfall plunging into the ocean 60 ft below.

“That is your plan?” You heard him yell at you over the rushing water just beneath you, his expression not at all perturbed by the height but almost elated, a loud laugh escaping him as he peered down over the edge.

“Yeah” you responded with a small shrug, walking slightly back further into the cave, just barely able to make out the sounds of droids rushing in the hallway just behind you, the prison mere seconds from going red alert “can you swim?”

“Yeah I can-“ and the rest of his sentence died in his throat as he turned to look back at you, his eyes growing wide as he watched you square up.

“No wait!” it was all he could get out before you came sprinting directly at him, crashing your body roughly into his sending both of you over into the abyss.

-

You hadn’t regretted the decision to escape via the ocean until the moment.

Before you were so caught up in the feeling of the air rushing through your hair as you crashed down, the cold shock of water as it enveloped you, the soft sand that stuck to you on the opposite bank. It was feelings that after your 2 years of imprisonment had become ubiquitous with freedom, so far from the harsh cold of stone walls, metal shackles, and confinement.

But now standing in the center of the jedi council chambers, 12 sets of eyes staring down at you as you could hear the water smacking the floor as it dripped from your hair, you wished you had chosen a drier escape route.

“So you were the one who got the holocron from star’s end” you could hear to monotony in the man’s voice as the one in the center addressed you, clearly as confused as to why you were here before them as you were.

“Yes sir” you answered meekly, stealing glances back towards your rescuer, Anakin you had learned his name to be, who just look on with a smug smile, the glowing cube you’d taken from the wardens desk clutched causally in one hand.

“Yes” Ankain echoed you, never breaking eye contact with the man before you, a sort of game occurring between their hard stares sent back and forth you couldn’t quite crack “but that’s not all” and with no warning he tossed the cube to you.

You caught it no problem, the jedi council collectively sitting up in their seats as their gaze anxiously followed the arc of the cubes path through the air, visibly relaxing when it landed safely in your hands.

“Open it”

You raised a brow at his command, eyes never leaving Anakin’s as you silently questioned. You’d only opened it the once, by mistake, you had no idea how you had done it.

“Skywalker what is the meaning of this?” the man in the center asked with a dejected sigh, clearly with as much faith in your abilities to open the cube as you had.

Anakin, however, didn’t respond, his eyes cutting to meet yours, a soft smile and an encouraging nod sent your way before he spoke “just do what you did back in his office”

“I don’t know what I did in his office” you whispered the words back, as if you had any chance of concealing them from the council sitting before you.

“Close your eyes, focus on the cube” Anakin instructed you softly, words spoken only for your benefit “you can do it”

You looked up to see the council eyeing you expectantly before looking down at the cube with doubt. There was no way to tell if it was even you that opened the cube before, but Anakin hardly gave you any way out. So you closed your eyes.

You formed the cube in the mind, feeling its weight anchored in your hand, concentrating on as much detail as you could until you felt the weight of it slowly leave you, hovering in the air just above your hand, because though you couldn’t see it you could feel it do so, could sense it.

A twist of the corner, that was what instinct told you, the cube In your mind obeying obediently before showing you the next move, then the next, the puzzle cube unfolding within your mind until it was nothing but a flat plane.

Then there was a voice, the same voice you’d heard before in that office, greeting you.

You opened your eyes to the same hologram, speaking directly to you from the now flat cube hovering inches above your hand, and you were so caught up in your own awe that the next voice to speak startled you.

“how did you do that?”

You jumped at the sound, the cube tumbling from it��s spot in the air and crashing to the ground, hologram gone, cube now a 3D shape once again, 12 sets of eyes eagerly on you as they sat on the edge of their seats.

“I-I” you stuttered at first, unsure where you were going with the sentence before it came out “I don’t know. I just…felt…it”

The man in the middle shifted back in his seat, hand coming to his chin in thought as he just stared at you at first. “A child this force sensitive could not have gone unnoticed”

Your eyes cut back to Anakin with a raised brow, “Force sensitive? I’m not-“

“You are” Anakin cut you off with an eager nod, eyes darting between yours and the man in the center’s “You have to be, it’s the only way to open the holocron”

Your brows bunched together as you looked down at the cube, almost afraid to touch it again “I can’t- I would’ve- I would’ve known if I was”

“The question is no longer if” the man in the center boomed, drawing your attention back up to him “but how. How did you escape our detection, how do you still have such sensitivity without formal training”

“I want to train her” Anakin piped up at that moment drawing your attention back to him, your head spinning just trying to keep up. “I’m ready to take on my own padawan”

“No” the man’s answer was quick and final, the man giving the idea barely any consideration before answering, “she is too old, it is too dangerous to teach her our ways now”

“It’s too dangerous not to” Anakin countered quickly, clearly already ready for this objection “her abilities clearly aren’t going to fade, our best option is to teach her the path of the light side”

And this seemed to catch the man off guard for a moment, his eyes casting to the other jedi around him as a silent conversation took place before you, too many quick glances for you to ever hope to try and follow along before he was speaking again.

“On that part you are right” it seemed painful for the man to admit this to Anakin though Anakin’s smile grew at the words, “you may train her, however this does not make her a padawan nor you a master, this is nothing more than a side project and you are to do no more than teach her what will keep her from the dark side”

Anakin seemed to deflate slightly at the words, clearly this answer not entirely what he had wanted but the smug smile still remained, he clearly felt he had still won this time.

“Thank you master” At this Anakin bowed to the man and you instinctively did the same, following wordlessly behind Anakin out of the chambers, completely unaware of just how radically your life was about to change.

-

“You can do this” Anakin spoke to you in a soft, encouraging tone “just close your eyes and try again” and a part of you hated him for that tone, for how easy he made it seem, for how easy the task seems, lift the rock from his hand. You had opened a holocron, twice, why was lifting a rock so much harder?

But deep down you knew why it was that way, why it had to be this way.

You’d come to understand the force as an essence, existing all around you, and using it to your advantage was as easy as opening yourself up to it, lifting an invisible barrier that existed between you and it. And little things, small intuitions, sensing presences or people, that required the barrier to lift just a little, but actual telekinesis? That required a lot more, and you didn’t like what came with completely opening that barrier.

Not that Anakin knew that.

But as you looked at him you felt your resolve start to break, large blue puppydog eyes looking at you with complete encouragement and belief in your ability, and you just couldn’t let him down.

So you convinced yourself this time it would be different, it would be better, and with a deep breath you closed your eyes and slowly opened the barrier.

For a brief moment there was nothing but the force, as if invisible strings pulled you to the rock in Anakin’s hand, a simple pull on one of them and the rock was floating. You heard his cheer in the back of your mind and felt your lips turn up at the sound.

Then there was a flash across your vision, an electric whip flying through the air, a woman’s scream, a dark cell, then a small child huddled into the dirty corner of a room. You felt your breath hitch within you as you recognized the room, recognized your cell, and again part of you felt trapped, like you were back there, locked behind bars, little hope of ever escaping, of ever seeing the sun again. Then the child’s eyes snapped to you. All thoughts left your mind immediately as you met her gaze, unsure of how she could see you, unsure of how you could see her.

“You won’t leave us right?”

And you didn’t have an answer to that, because you had already left them, had already gotten out, had already left another person to occupy your empty cell.

“I-“ the words died in your throat before they could escape as you weren’t sure what to say, weren’t sure if you could say anything.

The sound of the door opening snapped her attention from you immediately, a set of armed droids waiting on the other side of it.

The girl was already shaking her head, trying desperately to pull herself further into the corner, tears welling in her eyes as she repeated “no” over and over again.

The droids ignored her cries completely, only stating their orders to her as if she were listening “it is your time for questioning”

The girl screamed, tried to kick back at them as they approached, tried to keep them off of her but she was just a little kid, there was only so much she could do.

You were rooted on the spot, unable to move even as she tried to reach for you, even as she called your name as they dragged her out of the room. You watched her disappear around the corner, given barely any time to wonder where they were taking her before you were slammed back into your body, again on the floor on the jedi training room, desperately gasping for breath, eyes rapidly scanning the room trying to ground yourself.

Then you felt a hand on your shoulder, another on your chin pulling your gaze to meet his, Anakin knelt down in front of you forcing out deep slow breaths, showing you what to do. And you were back in that air vent, not in a bad claustrophobic way but in a comforting one, a grounding one, again Anakin was there when you were drowning teaching you how to breathe.

You forced out the slow breaths in time with his, Anakin’s eyes never breaking from yours as he continued with the unnatural rhythm, waiting till you seemed to calm, waiting until you were ready. Then he carefully brought his legs in front of him to sit down, crossing them so that his knees touched your softly, leaning forward so his elbows rested on his thighs. “What happened?”

Your posture collapsed on the spot, your head going into your hands as you took a second to remember, to process what had just happened, how you had felt so out of your own body and yet still you.

“I-I was back in the prison” you started hesitantly, not daring to meet Anakin’s gaze as you spoke “They were torturing people I think and there was this girl. She could see me, she begged me for help as they dragged her out of her cell for questioning and I just sat there”

It was silent for a moment as your mind reeled, trying desperately to remember if there was any more to it before Anakin spoke in a sad, soft tone “They’re called force visions” he took a deep breath “they’re known for being unreliable”

You shook your head, gaze snapping to his as you straighter slightly “no this felt real, too real to be a vision, it felt like this was happening right now, real time and I couldn’t-“

You let the words hang in the air and Anakin knew what you meant, not stepping in to say anything as you thought, as you spiraled a bit more. “I left them there”

“you got out” Anakin’s rebuttal came quick but you didn’t let it hang in the air for too long.

“I left them there” You repeated, looking up at him with a small shake of your head “I had a jedi on my side and basically run of the place and I was so caught up in my own escape I didn’t even think about helping any of them get out. Who does that?”

“A survivor” Anakin’s answer again came quick but you were already shaking your head, gaze casted across the room as you refused to look at him.

“A coward”

His hand came to your knee immediately, pulling your gaze back to him as he leaned a little more forward, urging you to listen to him. “you are not a coward”

“I left children and elderly people, innocent people, to rot in a cell while I escaped. What right did I have to get out over any of them?”

“There was just two of us” Anakin objected sadly “we couldn’t have gotten them out if we had tried”

And it was like something had clicked within you, your posture straightening back up as your gaze cast back to his, a ghost of a smile playing on your face “so we need to bring backup next time”

Anakin’s eyebrows scrunched as he looked back at you, hesitantly retracting the hand from your knee as he spoke “next time?”

You nodded eagerly, already pushing yourself up to your feet “I need to speak to the jedi council”

-

“I want to free the people of star’s end”

The words didn’t seem to shock the council, you were under the impression that not much did, but still a silence fell over them, each member taking a moment to look at one another, sending silent messages between one another before master windu addressed you.

“You are not a jedi, you can do as you please miss L/N”

And though a part of you felt deflated, the council was playing obtuse on purpose, wanting to force you to ask out loud for their help, you saw Anakin from the corner of your eye, his tall proud stance just behind you, always having your back, and instead tried to mirror him.

“I am asking for jedi assistance with this master Windu”

Again the council shared a look, a silent discussion taking place before your eyes, before slowly each gaze returned to you, each’s expression as stony and serious as before.

“Star’s end is a separatist stronghold far too expansive for the jedi even with the clone army at it’s side to take it without many casualties”

You could see Anakin adjust his stance ever so slightly at his words, physically switching from offensive to defensive, and a part of you got angry at that, angry that you were having to prove to the jedi why the people unjustly locked in cages deserved to be free, angry that Anakin already seemed to feel this was a losing battle.

“Those people in star’s end are republic citizens, loyal to the republic in every way, the very people you all are sworn to serve and you are just going to leave them to die?”

You tried to control the anger in your voice, tried to bite it down knowing yelling at the council would get you nowhere, but couldn’t help yourself as your voice grew louder, your words coming out in rapid succession.

“We cannot serve the people of this republic if our army is dead” you could hear master windu’s own anger in his voice but you knew it wasn’t anger for his supposed forced inaction or anger in the loss of innocent lives, but rather in you, for daring to counterriot him, to argue with him in front of the council “we have a war to win miss L/N, that supersedes all else”

“The people in those cells were prisoners of war” you could hear the desperation in your own voice but in that moment didn’t care “soldiers in your war, they will gladly fight with you again all you need to do is unlock the cells. Give them a chance to help you free them”

“The answer is no”

“What if I went back in undercover”

You could see Anakin’s posture go rigid on the spot, for the first time his head snapping to you, his gaze fully falling on you as you spoke.

But in that moment you couldn’t take a second to focus on anything but master Windu’s face, the way it crinkled ever so slightly in thought, and you knew that was your chance.

“I know the schedule, the layout, how to fit in seamlessly-“

“Wait” Anakin’s voice was barely more than a whisper, his body coming inches closer as he took a step towards you, hand outstretched to grab you by the arm as if to physically stop you, but you just stepped forward, out of his reach, and continued on as if you had heard nothing.

“I still have the uniform, friends on the inside, I even know how to get in without being noticed-“

Anakin quickly gave up on trying to stop you, turning directly to the council this time, taking a step in front of you as if to shield you from them. “Master windu please excuse-“

The master silenced Anakin with a simple look, Anakin’s own words dying in his throat on the spot as he stared up at the council, gaze breaking desperately to his master’s silently begging him to do something.

Obi-wan, however, could do nothing as Master Windu turned to you, giving you a small nod before speaking “what do you propose miss L/N”

And you took a second to step away from Anakin, taking care to not meet his eye contact as you did so, your gaze never breaking from master Windu’s as you continued carefully, continued with a plan you hadn’t even realized you had formulated.

“I sneak in, unlock all the cells and the front gates giving a clone army not only unfettered access to the grounds but an entire army already within the prison” and you could see the hesitation on his face, the hesitation on all of their faces “the clone army needn’t do anything until the gates are open, and if I fail you can simply turn around. No harm no foul”

The council shared another look amongst themselves and you could see Anain’s eyes desperately scanning the room, clinging to every bit of silent conversation he could make out.

“If you are caught-“ Master Windu spoke again and you could see Anakin flinch ever so slightly at the words, his gaze whipping around to you once again as he slowly backed up to the edge of the circle, acknowledging finally he had no say in this decision, on either side. “You cannot disclose the location of this clone army should this be the plan. You cannot give any indication of the jedi’s involvement”

“If I am caught” you repeated back to him, trying your best to keep the triumphant smile off your face “well, master Windu, you said it yourself I’m not a jedi. Just a prisoner trying to escape”

-

You’d been sitting crossed legged on the floor for over an hour at this point, no longer even pretending to try and practice his exercise.

He’d hardly spoken a word to you since the council meeting this morning, no more than leading you to a training room and telling you to sit down and lift the rock in front of you while he paced.

Back and forth in front of you, none of the usual “good job” when you did it or light instruction when you failed to, just pacing.

At first you had prepared yourself for his blow up, waiting for him to yell at you, to lecture you for being irresponsible, for not talking to him before bringing your plan to the council. Instead you got silence, an impending doom hanging relentlessly over your head as you waited for the inevitable.

But a person could only wait so long.

So you had abandoned the rock lifting half an hour ago, doing nothing but sitting on the floor watching him go back and forth. And you weren’t sure if he even noticed. And quite honestly you were sick of waiting.

So one last time you closed your eyes and concentrated, easily using the force to pick up the fist sized rock in front of you, and hurling it directly at Anakin.

Anakin spun on the spot and lifted his hand effortlessly, the rock halting midair in front of him, floating there for just a second as his gaze snapped from the rock to you on the ground before it fell to the floor, hitting the hard stone with a soft thunk.

And it was only then, beneath that glare, did you start to question if that was a good idea.

“Really?” It was more demand than question “After what you pulled this morning you think throwing rocks at me is a good idea?”

You just shrugged, pushing as much nonchalance into your expression as possible “you haven’t talked to me in an hour”

Anakin sighed in complete exasperation, a hand running through his hair before coming up to pinch the bridge of this nose “And what do you want me to do?” he asked, his voice too soft for comfort “yell at you? Tell you how dumb and reckless of a plan this is because you already seem to know that considering you didn’t bother to fill me in before addressing the council”

“I didn’t know I was going to propose that” you were quick to defend yourself, pushing yourself up to your feet, feeling at a slight disadvantage on the ground “I was desperate! I just needed them to work with me so I offered the only think I could think would help”

“Offering yourself up as bait” he crossed his arms over his chest, looking at you completely unimpressed “You went in with a complete plan and points to back up that plan that doesn’t happen on the spot”

“So if I had just filled you in beforehand you’d be okay with it?” you asked him with raised brow, already knowing his answer.

He took a second to just glare at you, knowing what you were doing, that you were baiting him “of course not” he sighed “but we could’ve come up with something better”

“We couldn’t have” you shook your head, noting his softer tone by this point, daring a step forward “this is the only plan the council would have approved”

And he did nothing but shake his head softly for a moment, big eyes staring back at you telling you that he knew you were right, just not ready to admit it right. “I could go with you” he tried

And you had to laugh softly at his expression, taking yet another step closer until you were right in front of him, a hand coming up to cup his cheek softly, Anakin not yet giving in, refusing to drop his arms from in front of his chest “you couldn’t”

He sighed dejectively, finally dropping his arms, one hand coming up to grab the one cupping his cheek, giving it a soft squeeze before pulling it away, never letting it go “you know you don’t have to”

“Ani-“ you started to object before he cut you off

“I mean it” his eyes bounced back and forth between your own “You got out, you don’t have to go back to that place”

“I left them there” you replied softly, retracting your hands from his “I got distracted, didn’t think, just wanted to get out and I left them all there, I have to go back”

And you could see him wanting to object again, to repeat that it wasn’t up to you to save them but you were prepared to stand your ground and you think he saw that too. So all he said as he stared back at you was “are you sure”

And you nodded, a soft smile rising to your lips “I’m sure. I can do this Ani”

And he chuckled softly at you, nodding reluctantly “I know you can. But you get into trouble I don’t care what the council says I will come for you”

“I know you will” you laughed again at him, taking both of his hands in yours, giving them a soft squeeze “you got me out once, I trust you could do it again”

“But nothing is going to go wrong” he persisted though you could see the smile reluctantly growing on his lips as he tried to remain serious “you’re going to release the prisoners and open all the gates”

“then I’ll come find you” you nodded.

“Good” he whispered before pulling on your arms, crashing you into his chest as he wrapped them around you securely “I’ll see you at the gates” he whispered softly into your hair.

“I’ll see you at the gates”

[inventors-fair]

House Tour: Room Entries ~

@an-anarchist-shapeshifter — Secluded Bedroom / Dark Closet @bread-into-toast — Imaging Center / Splattered Surgery @corporalotherbear — Center Stage / Splash Zone @cthulhusaurusrex — Abandoned Queue / House of Mirrors @curiooftheheart — Worn Nursery / Maids' Chamber @feyd-rautha-apologist — Airlock / Hydroponics @helloijustreadyourpost — Casino Floor / Manager's Vault @hypexion — Plague Vats / Necrogen Silo @izzet-always-r-versus-u — Dressing Room / Center Stage @levelzeo — Forgotten Observatory / Mad-Man's Study @melancholia-ennui — Karok Pen / Mulch Heap @misterstingyjack — Explorer's Memorial / Hall of Expeditions @nine-effing-hells — Living Room / Hungry Hearth @real-aspen-hours — Faulty Airlock / Relic Storage @sparkyyoungupstart — Orchestra Pit / Center Stage @tanknspank — Empty Kennels / Grooming Parlour @wildcardgamez — Music Classroom / Art Classroom @xenobladexfan — Expansive Library / Secret Bunker @yd12k — Hidden Grave / Compost Bin @yourrightfulking — Singing Chapel / Echoing Mausoleum