#its DONE i NEVER have to touch it again at least until. i get feedback on it and i cry if its not 100000% positive

[crunchycrystals]

hallelujah i finished fixing my essay its not the BEST but its DECENT and most importantly its DONE

[12gaugefalls]

Bottom of the River

A Sinclair brothers fanfic. (House of Wax)

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A/N: Hi guys! I got this fanfic idea from a song I listened to called "Bottom of the River" by Delta Rea. (Please let me know if I got that wrong.) I would really like to know your feedback on this and if you would like more! Thanks! Have a great day!

Tw: implied child abuse, guns (although brief), blood. Please tell me if I missed anything

( This font is signing)

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(No one's POV)

It started out the same. It was always the same for them. Yelling, screaming, fighting and survival was second nature for the Sinclair boys. These things made sense to them, like breathing or drinking water.

Leaving the house was easy when no one wanted you there, so packing a small bag filled with bottles of water and small snacks, they head out to their place. A place where they weren't sure if they were wanted but no one was yelling at them to get out so they stayed. They went there over a thousand times, it had rarely changed. A small part of the river that wasn't too deep in some parts but so deep you couldn't touch it in others.

Now, Louisiana has its mystery, everywhere you looked you would find something that didn't quite make sense but a part of you told you to keep moving and don't acknowledge it. This river had never changed in the Sinclair's short lives, but it had today. The brothers had only been there for a few minutes when it changed, it wasn't subtle. The distant sound of yelling and the muffled sound of footsteps is what caught their attention. And through the bushes on the other side three figures emerged.

The figures looked to be trying to catch their breaths, all the while, the brothers watched. When the figures looked up at them, they were shocked to say the least. Three girls (judging by the clothes they wore) about the same age as them, stood across the river. But that's not what scared the Sinclair boys. What scared them was that the girls were almost identical to them. From the scaring on Vincent's face and the puppy dog look Lester always sported to the bands of scars on Bo's wrists, these girls looked like them. One of the girls, specifically the one that looked like Vincent, quickly looked down to hide her face. The girl with Bo's scars stepped in front of her sister, something Bo would have done for Vincent.

The girl had said something to them but it was muffled, like a barrier had been placed to keep them separated. The brothers looked at each other confused before looking back at them. The Vincent girl, since they didn't know their names yet, started to sign.

"Who are they?"

Was all the brothers could make out as she was still behind her sister. Vincent stepped closer to the waters edge, Bo grabbed his arm to keep him from going any closer. Vincent started to sign to the girls and they seemed shocked that he could. After answering a few questions, none of which made sense to any of them, the brothers found out the girls names were Emily, Bo's counterpart, Scarlett, Vincent's counterpart, and Charlie, Lester's counterpart. They lived in a place named Ambrose as well, and from what they described it sounded exactly like theirs. Needless to say the brothers were confused, sure they had seen their fair share of weird things but this was weird.

But child curiosity couldn't be swayed. The brothers came back whenever they could throughout the years, eventually making friends with the girls who didn't seem to grow up as they did, staying young well into the brothers adult years. The river hadn't changed again... until it did.

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It had been slow that day, tourist season dying out. Soon there would be no one to use for art or Bo to take his anger out on. But it came collectively to them, and they went. Went to the river where the sisters were. And that's when it changed, when the Sinclairs lives changed. It changed how it did the first time, muffled yelling and running, until the girls burst through the tree line once again. But the yelling didn't stop and they were different from the last time the brothers had seen them. More damaged, more injuries than last time. Emily started shouting at her sister and Scarlett scooped up a crying Charlie and moved to the river.

Throughout the time the brothers knew these girls they had passed things through the barrier, small things like trinkets or drawing stuffed in bottles. But never anything big and never anything living.

So when Scarlett tried passing Charlie through the barrier, the brothers understandably freaked out. Vincent was the first to understand that Scarlett wanted them to take Charlie and moved into the water. He heard Bo yelling at him to get back here and to not go any closer but he couldn't, or maybe it was he didn't want too and soon enough he was standing in front of the two girls, just as a man, who looked strangely like their father burst through the tree line. He started to push his hands through the barrier, even though his hands felt tingly and grabbed Charlie. Lester had moved to the waters edge and when Vincent handed him the crying girl he quickly brought her to the sidelines. When Vincent looked back at Scarlett, he noticed she was moving back towards her sister. Emily was standing there, screaming something at the man, until she pulled a small gun from her waistband and pointed it at the man.

At this point time seemed to slow down for the Sinclairs, as they watched different versions of themselves fight like they had their whole lives. The man looked scared but even Bo could see the burning rage the man had and the temble of Emily's arms. The little girl wasn't prepared for her own father to jump on her, knocking the gun out of her hand, and started to try to kill her. That's what sparked something in Bo. If you were, to ask him what it was, he'd say he couldn't tell you but it moved him. It moved him across those waters and through the barrier. It moved him so fast that he didn't know he killed the man until Scarlett's broken screams finally hit his ears.

Scarlett wasn't screaming for the man, no she was screaming for her sister who lay unconscious and bleeding on the ground. Bo stood up seeing Scarlett cradling Emily, and slowly walked over to them. Gently placing a hand on her shoulder, he moved to pick up the injured girl. Once she was secured in his arms, he moved into the water and to where Vincent was waiting with open arms.

The girls, who the brothers had known most of their lives, were now on their side of the barrier. They took the girls back to their childhood home, where Charlie had pointed out looked exactly like theirs, and Vincent moved to their fathers old office to fix Emily up. The brothers could tell there was no going back from what they had done but with the three peacefully sleeping girls in the spare bedroom, they couldn't find it in themselves to care.

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A/N: and that's it! That's the thought! I hoped you all liked it and i hope it was worth the time! Any feedback is much appreciated and is welcome! Thanks! Have a great day!

Tagged: @beaugard-sinclair, @waxxl0ver

[yaminerua]

Hhhh my face is giving me hell

well I guess it was nice to have a couple of months where my face was marginally less red but with the anti-inflammatory antibiotics course done and finished it’s just erupted right back to where it was before I’d started on it, minus the spots but I’m sure they’ll come back as soon as the inflammation goes unchecked for long enough.

idk what I’m going to do tbh I’ve done all I can wrt changing my diet and trying to cut out everything that triggers this perpetual flush but it seems to just do it on its own with no discernible immediate trigger. I wake up with it before I’ve even eaten or done anything, or it sets in several hours after any meal regardless of what was eaten (and also I eat the same shit every day atm to try to monitor it for consistency and there IS no consistency). I eat the blandest shit with no seasonings atm bc it’s supposed to be safe from flare ups and I don’t touch any of the things on most trigger lists. And yet now it’s the same as tho I’d had a big old tomatoey curry even tho I haven’t touched tomatoes or spices of any kind since early June.

Thermal temperature is hard to control but I do know it plays a role. I can’t eat my meals warm, I have to wait for them to be cold. And bc this house heats like a sauna on even mildly warm days but it gets frigid cold on cold ones and when the heating is on that’s just as bad as if it was a warm day and i have to sit with a fan on to try to keep burning out of control.

I can do nothing about that or the heat in the kitchen when cooking. But even with those factors there was still a good period in the middle of this course of meds where my face was relatively calm and only faintly pink and yet it’s slipped back over the last two weeks as tho I wasn’t still on those meds at all. And aside from meds reducing inflammation idk what else made it work before that isn’t now bc as mentioned I haven’t changed anything about what I’m doing. My routine is the same now as it was at the end of June and yet the response is completely different.

I’ve been using my calming skincare shit this whole time too but that’s burning a hole in my pocket. I thought it was working bc it does usually have an immediate redness reduction effect when I use it but now it doesn’t feel like it’s working either.

it’s like my face is just immune to every attempt I’m making to calm it

at this point I can only assume it’s a negative feedback loop from stress. It must be something like that. It’s the only other thing that’s completely out of my control

irl is so stressful rn money wise and I’m perpetually waiting for terrible news to do with the house that I know is coming bc the deadline is reached and there’s nothing that can be done about it and it’s been looming and destroying my mental health for ages. I can’t use stress relief methods bc I’ve never ever found one that works in any capacity at all so I’m always stressed and that makes my face flare and that makes the stress worse and you can see how that just goes from there…

I feel pretty hopeless tbh. Like yeah maybe I’ll eventually be able to afford to have some laser therapy (I don’t think I can get it on nhs for this so it’ll need paid for I think) to try to deal with any blood vessels that need shrunk but like I wish I didn’t have to resort to that but it’s basically an inevitability at this point. If I can keep the inflammatory spots happening that’ll be good at least but it’s the redness in the face that makes me want to just never be perceived again bc it was so intense that people would point it out to me like what did you do to your face? I look like someone took a hard edged brush of bright red and drew an exaggerated anime blush in a thick line across my cheeks and nose and I hate it. I look like I’ve been skiing with goggles on in the snow and burnt the shape of the goggles under my eyes

and it burns and prickles and itches so much when it heats up. It’s almost unbearable.

But until then idk how to bring it under control and it’s making me feel so awful.

I mean like. I’m white and Scottish so like. Yeah. So many of us get this shit. Ruddy faces are a common sight. My dad’s side of the family all mostly have it, in the form of the visible blood vessels but all of them only have it localised to the cheeks, like some rosy cheeked Santa Claus look. Nothing on the nose or any kind of diffuse redness all over the face. And none with the inflammatory spots form, or even the burning or hot feeling. It’s like I got a completely different rosacea and it’s just. So unfair. I could handle it if I looked like the rest of my family but I look so much worse and idk how much worse it might go on to look and feel and I’m just.

Tired

Idk maybe it’s just that I handle stress so badly it manifests more severely for me. I’ve had trauma to wrestle with since before I reached double digits in age and there are a great many things I just don’t handle well at all. But god that was bad enough on its own in the ways it hinders my life without all that stress also giving me new issues to be stressed and depressed about. Like honestly what next

I want to do things I enjoy and write and draw and go out and see friends and this shit is sucking all of what little enjoyment I can find in life right out of me. Can’t eat the foods I used to love, can’t exercise in the fun ways I used to, can’t do anything I used to without this horrible burning redness cursing me wherever i go and of course you KNOW it gets worse when I have to wear a covid mask bc of the hot humidity of my breath in the mask but that’s not something i can give up bc covid is still around and I refuse to stop protecting myself from it bc as far as I know I’ve never had it yet and I just know with my luck if I ever get it it’ll fuck me up really bad.

so idk what to do other than sit here venting about it and wanting to cry bc of how awful and hopeless it feels

feel like I’m waiting for a life changing miracle to get rid of my stress but like lmao the world itself is stressful in general with all the awful things going on. How is anyone supposed to feel optimistic or hopeful or not stressed about everything…

Idk what I’d expected after the meds ran out tbh I knew from the start it would only temporarily offer relief and then it would surge back. I just had hoped maybe I’d be wrong.

hhhh fml. I should just go to bed

[leviathans-watching]

HI PRETTY!! i was wondering if you could write an imagine for the brothers of an mc who is all bundled up, cheeks red, mittens on, etc, when its snowing and the brothers finding it cute? i literally cannot wait for winter oml summer is so mid

the brothers seeing mc all bundled up for the cold

includes: the brothers x/& gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned)

wc: .6k | rated g | m.list

a/n: hello!! i'm not a huge winter fan but i did my best so i hope you enjoy! my inbox is open to chat, leave feedback, or req so come say hi

please reblog <333

➳ lucifer watches as you pull on another layer, wrapping a scarf around your neck until it covers half of your face. “are you sure you need all of those layers?” he asks, and you shoot him a glare. the effect is somewhat diminished by the thick hat pulled low over your forehead and he resists the urge to smile. “yes,” you say, exasperated, words muffled by the aforementioned scarf, “i don’t think me becoming a human popsicle would reflect well on the exchange program.”

➳ mammon doesn’t understand how your teeth are chattering. it’s not even that cold! “to you, maybe,” you mutter, shaking another pack of hand warmers, “but humans aren’t meant to be exposed to the frickin’ elements for that long.” mammon laughs, tugging you close to his side, a feat considering the large, puffy coat you’re wearing. “don’t worry,” he says, “i’ll cuddle you when we get back, get you all nice and toasty.”

➳ levi surreptitiously takes a photo of you, inwardly squealing at your cuteness. you had dragged him out to play in the snow, something he’d never done before, and your excitement was infectious. “isn’t this great?” you ask, breath fogging into the air. “the cold air makes me feel alive!” levi grins at you, watching snowflakes drift onto your shoulders. “i’m glad you’re having fun,” he says. “winter might be my new favorite season.”

➳ satan looks at your pleading face. “what do you want?” he asks, sighing. you crack a rueful smile, gesturing down at yourself. “i can’t put my boots on,” you explain. “my snow pants are in the way.” satan raises a brow. “so you want me to do it?” you nod, and he sighs again, before kneeling down to help you. you giggle the whole time, but he can’t find it within himself to be too out of sorts, as the slight of you all bundled up is one that’s going to stay with him for a while.

➳ asmo can barely see you under all of the winter gear you’ve put yourself in, and he knows there are several more layers of sweaters and long-sleeved shirts beneath your coat. “that ensemble is so not cute,” he sighs, looking you up and down. “couldn’t you have at least gotten a matching set?” “no way,” you laugh. “i needed the thickest stuff they had which meant buying independent pieces. i’m sorry, but you’re just going to have to live with it if you don’t want me to freeze!” asmo tilts his head to the side, considering. “ugh, fine. i guess it’s not too bad,” he finally admits, “but that's only because it’s on you.”

➳ beel watches you blow on your hands, rubbing them together to stimulate blood flow. “are you alright?” he asks, and you sigh. “i forgot my gloves at the house. feel how cold my hands are!” you thrust your hand out at him, and beel grabs it, jolting at the sensation. you’re much colder to the touch than you normally are. “that won’t do,” he says, “come over here and put your hand in my pocket.” you do as he says and he covers your hand with his, already planning on switching sides in a few minutes to do your other hand.

➳ belphie groans at the feeling of cold wind on your cheeks, but your eyes are bright. “this is so fun!” you exclaim, trying to adjust the earmuffs covering your ears. your mittens get in the way and after watching you struggle for a few moments belphie wordlessly steps forward and moves them back into place, reviving a bright smile in return. “the cold sucks,” he says, and you laugh. “don’t be like that. we can go in and wrap ourselves in blankets soon.”

leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your won

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Desperate Measures 2

Warnings: nonconsent and rape (miniseries); stalking, fear, intimidation, fingering, toyplay, fuck machine, control, overstimulation, cock ring, oral

This is dark!Steve Rogers and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: At first, you think it’s a joke when you get the strange messages, but when they don’t stop, you realise too late how real it all is.

Note: Okay, here’s the last half! 

Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Part 1

I can't let this, I can't let this go When I got you right where I want you I been pushing for this for so long

💌

You put your to-go box in the fridge. Your appetite was all but gone after the encounter but Eva barely seemed to notice as her gushing went from the unexpected cameo of America’s hero to Ray again. Another argument meant she was holding out to punish him but you knew it wouldn’t last. She was already incessantly checking her phone.

You sat as she took selfies on Snap and shared them in her passive aggressive way. You knew this dance. She’d keep going until she got a reaction. You took your own phone but hesitated before you lit up the screen. It unlocked as it registered your face and the number over your inbox made you wince.

It was like a story in itself, the unanswered text bubbles lined the rectangle; ‘where’d you go, sweetheart’ to ‘what’s wrong?’ to ‘I will find you’ to ‘you better answer me, sweetheart’. You could almost hear them in Steve’s deep tones and it made you shiver. The phone suddenly vibrated and sent another wave through you.

‘Seven tonight. I’ll meet you in front of the bar,’ the message said tersely.

You lowered the phone as Eva searched for better lighting and angled her phone around as she pouted. You watched her and the phone buzzed again. You looked down at the next message.

‘You answer me, sweetheart.’ Still all you could do was stare blankly until you felt another jolt, ‘either you come to me or I come to you.’

The threat was clear. It wasn’t just about you. He knew you were at Eva’s and you had no doubt he would break through any obstacle between you. You saw him sitting across from you in the restaurant, felt the way his eyes bore into you.

‘Okay,’ you texted back. It was all you could handle.

Eva giggled and flopped down on the sofa, “oooh, Ray is so mad.”

“Uh huh,” you murmured as the heart emoji popped up on your screen.

“I sent him the pic I got with the Captain,” she smirked, “he’s so jealous.”

“Do you two ever stop?” you rolled your eyes and set aside your phone.

“Babe, he might be a jackass but the way he serves--”

“Say no more,” you pointed your thumb down your throat, “please.”

💌

Eva was gone before seven. You were thankful that you wouldn’t need to explain yourself to her but disappointed nonetheless. You walked the block down to the bar and stood by the corner of the low wrought iron fence that lined the busy patio. You held your phone in your hand and hugged yourself with one arm. You felt sick and numb.

You felt a light touch on your elbow and spun. Steve smiled down at you as he wore a ball cap and dark blue jacket. 

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting,” he said, “I got a bit held up--”

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, finally finding your voice.

“Sweetheart,” he warned as his lips straightened, “I don’t like to be interrupted.”

“I don’t understand,” you hissed, “I just don’t. I don’t know why you’re doing this.”

“Why I’m doing what? Why I love you? Sweetheart, you need to be better to yourself and if you can’t do that, then I guess I have to,” he tickled your cheek with his fingertips, “are you hungry?”

“No,” you crossed your arms as he glanced over at the patio, “please, just stop. Leave me alone.”

He closed his eyes and his jaw tensed. He swallowed and his hand dropped to your shoulder. His thumb rubbed your shoulder through your light cardigan.

“Don’t be like this,” he said, “after all I’ve done for you. After--”

“I never asked for any of it,” you croaked.

“You interrupt me again,” he squeezed your upper arm and leaned in, “and there will be consequences.”

Your eyes widened and you gaped up at him. He grinned and dropped his hand to take yours. He drew you away from the hedges along the fence and walked you down the street.

“Since you’re not hungry, I guess we can just go home,” he tugged on you as you dragged your feet and you stumbled to catch up. It felt as if he would crush your hand as he stopped by a sleek car and reached into his pocket to unlock it with a chirp, “sweetheart,” his tone was grizzly as he exhaled in frustration, “I don’t like this. This isn’t you.” He opened the door and loomed over you as he lowered his voice to a whisper, “be a good girl.”

He nudged you into the car and you sat heavily as he shut the door with snap. Your hands shook as you turned your phone over and hit the emergency call number. Before you could hit the nine, he was in the driver’s seat and ripped your phone from your grasp. The doors locked with a loud click.

“What do you think the police will do for you?” he growled as he started the car, “do you think they’ll believe you? You think they don’t have a record of all the crazed fangirls who ever followed me around?” he scoffed and reached over to slap your thigh, “buckle up…” he lifted his hand and stroked your neck, “we don’t want you getting hurt, do we?”

You slowly pulled the belt over and buckled it. You were trembling so much it took several tries. You let out a brittle breath and sank back against the seat, “no,” you said quietly as you glanced out the window.

“Good,” he said as he drove with one hand still on your leg, “I only want to keep you safe.”

💌

The walk-up looked like any other on the street. She iron railing along the concrete steps, the faded brick, the frosted glass slats of the front door, and the twisted metal numbers just above the mailbox. Steve walked behind you and kept you trapped between him and the door as he unlocked it.

You entered if just to get away from him and he calmly locked the door as he followed. He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it with his cap on the hook along the wall. He waited and crossed his arms as he watched you expectantly. You hesitated and pulled off your cardigan. He took it and draped it beside his jacket.

You froze and stared at the shoe rack. There were several pairs of women’s shoes in the cubbies and the hooks not only held his own jackets, but at least two meant for a female counterpart. You took a step back and peered around. Your blood turned to ice as you saw yourself smiling back from a photo; a picture printed out from your social media.

“I’m still working on some things,” he said as he followed your gaze and adjusted the frame on the hook, “of course, you can bring some stuff over to make it more homey.”

“What…” the air rushed from your lungs and your head spun.

You backed up and caught yourself on the wall. You were losing your mind. This couldn’t be real. None of it. He was crazy.

“Let me show you around,” he didn’t seem to notice your distress, or he just didn’t care. He grabbed your hand again and pulled you away from the wall.

You let him guide you through the front room, the dining room, the kitchen and back up the hall as he pointed out the half-bath. You didn’t process much of it and as he urged you up the stairs, you tripped and hit your knees on the next step. He helped you up swiftly, his arm around you as he walked you up the rest of the way.

You could hardly support your own weight. He sat you down on a bench along the wall as you struggled to breathe. He knelt before you and framed your face with his hands.

“I was gonna wait,” he said, “but you made me do this. And now neither of us are ready but this how it has to be.”

You reached up and grabbed his hands as you stared back at him in horror. He didn’t even flinch as he kept his hands around your face.

“Get yourself together,” he said darkly, “now.”

He dropped his hands and stood. You watched him and nodded. You gulped and got to your feet, your legs weak but you forced yourself to stand.

“I’m sorry,” you said without thinking. He smiled and your heart dropped. Why were you apologising to him? You weren’t wrong, you were trapped.

“Come on,” he shoved you ahead of him and pointed you past the open bathroom door. You peeked in as you passed and stopped at the next, “go in.”

You entered the room. It was a tidy bedroom with everything in its place. The rug, the chair, the bed, the sheets, the dresser; everything was finely arranged and painted a scene you found in lifestyle magazines. He brushed by you and pointed to the door at the other side of the bed.

“Your closet,” he said.

You went forward and opened the door as he watched. He flicked the switch as you poked your head in to look around at the hangers. There were more clothes in the closet than you ever had. Some of them were even identical to pieces you already owned.

“Before we move on,” he went to the dresser and the subtle whisper of the drawer sliding out pulled your attention back to the room, “you should change.”

He laid out a frilly lavender piece. The fabric was see-through and there was no crotch. There were flowers embroidered where your nipples would be, the fabric ruched along straps. You looked at him and back at the flimsy lingerie.

“I’ll wait outside,” he backed away, “surprise me.”

“I… Steve--”

“Captain or sir,” he corrected as he filled the doorway with his broad figure, his hand on the handle, “you will learn the rules as we go.”

“I can’t--”

“You can,” he insisted, “rule number one: you address me properly. Rule number two, you do what I say. Rule number three,” he held up three fingers, “you break the rules and there will be consequences. Don’t make me repeat myself again.”

He stepped into the hall and slammed the door. You flinched and looked back at the purple bodysuit. You shuddered and sniffed as your eyes tingled and your nose tickled. You wanted to break down and cry but your fear kept your tears inside. You undressed and pulled on the dainty lingerie.

He knocked just as you finished and pushed open the door without response. His lips parted as his eyes roved your body and you tried to fold in on yourself. He waved you forward and you reluctantly crossed the room. His fingers danced along the seam along your side and lingered just along your pelvis. You may as well be naked.

He gestured you further down the hall to the door at the very end. He slapped your ass as you walked ahead of him and he groaned. You stopped as you saw the thick latch above the handle and you felt him against your back as he caught up.

“It’s unlocked… for now,” he said.

You opened the door as the lightbulb bloomed to life on a censor but you couldn’t cross the threshold. Your mouth hung open as you looked around at the walls, sketches of you pasted across every inch. In all of them, you were naked and contorted in some lurid position; some alone, some with Steve, others you were strapped own while a few had you touching yourself.

You took a step back and collided with Steve. He urged you inside with his body and the door closed. You peered around as he turned to lock the door but there wasn’t a keyhole but a keypad. You couldn’t see what he pressed as he shielded it with his back and your legs threatened to collapse again.

More than the pictures on the wall, the room was a personal playground. There was a bench in the middle that was fit for those kinkier videos you found on the internet, with straps hooked in rings along the legs. 

Aside from that, there were leather cuffs, crops, and other whips lined up neatly over a table, surrounded by a litany of silicon, metal and glass toys. In the corner, there was a boxy machine on wheels with a rod sticking out of it. 

You spun around and Steve caught you. You reached over his shoulder for the door as panic flowed through you like electricity.

“Please,” you begged, “please, let me go. You can’t--”

“Sweetheart,” he cooed as he took you off your feet and carried you further into the room, “tonight, we’re just getting you ready…”

“No, no, no,” you ranted as you struggled against him, “no, I can’t--”

He threw you down on your feet and as you wobbled, he caught your throat, “never say no to me,” his eyes flared with anger, “do you understand?”

You swallowed and nodded stiffly above his large hand, “yes..”

“Yes, what?” he sneered.

“Yes, sir,” you forced out, “I… I…”

“Will you be good?” he asked as he lifted a brow.

“I’ll be good, sir,” you echoed.

“Turn around,” he released you harshly and you staggered awkwardly until your back was to him. 

He rounded you and grabbed your wrist, he pulled you to the cushioned horse and urged you up onto it with a curt order. As he strapped you in, your panic spiked again and you pulled with a squeal of terror.

“If you continue to struggle, it will only be worse,” he said as he buckled in your ankle, your pelvis prone over the end of the bench, “sweetheart, I have to train you because right now, you’re being bad. I can’t love you if you’re bad.”

“Please,” you eked out, “Steve, this isn’t you. You’re-- you’re Captain America--”

“And you’re mine,” he snarled and grabbed the back of your neck as he stood and pushed your head down against the bench.

He trailed his hand down your back and slapped your ass. The strike stung badly and you whimpered as you braced for another. It never came and you sensed him move away from you. You turned your head to watch him as he went to the table but could not see what he was doing.

He spun back and marched around the back of the horse. You tried to crane your head up to keep an eye on him and he smacked your ass again. 

“Eyes forward,” he commanded.

You turned your head straight as you let out a whine and he pushed his hand down your thigh. He prodded your ass with the toy in his other hand and the soft click turned to buzz as the vibrations reverberated through your flesh. He rolled it down and pressed along your folds. You squeaked at the sudden ripple it sent through you.

“Just relax,” he coaxed as he pushed between your folds and cupped the toy against your clit, his hand nestled between the leather and your cunt. Every muscle in your body tensed and you gritted your teeth as your core burned to life, “that’s it, sweetheart,” he kneaded your ass with his other hand, “gotta get you ready for me.”

You muffled a sob and pressed your cheek to the bench. You curled your fingers around the metal legs and braced yourself against the rising pleasure. His touch crawled down your ass as he rolled the toy against your bud and he pushed a finger into you. You moaned as he pulled in and out.

“That’s it,” he purred and added another finger, “sweetheart, you’re so tight. So tight for me.”

Your breath hitched as clicked the toy to a higher setting and his fingers sped up inside you as he bent them to reach that most tender spot. Your voice wisped from you without restraint and your eyes rolled back as the pleasure smothered your fear.

“I don’t think you’re ready,” he said, “too tight…” he fucked you even harder with his hand, “you need more.”

Your cunt clenched around him as you came and your walls twitched against his thick fingers. An ocean of pleasure washed over you as he teased your clit to the point of pain. You cried out at the overstimulation as your orgasm crashed down on you. You barely had time to catch your breath as he brought you to another peak and you whined desperately through your teeth.

He slid his fingers out slowly and spread your juices down your thigh and left the toy beneath you as he freed his hand. He backed away and you heard the sloppy noise of him sucking on his wet fingers. Your eyes fluttered open as he went to the table again and wiped his hand on his jeans.

He came back to you and pushed down the straps of the lingerie. He lifted you the inch allotted by the restraint and pinched your nipples with the metal clamps, letting the chain hang between them as he dropped you back down. You grumbled as the feeling plucked at your core.

He returned to the table then went to the corner. You looked up as he rolled the machine towards you, a dildo screwed onto the rod. You pulled at your cuffs helplessly and he slowed as neared you. He stopped and knelt to caress your head as he gripped the firm toy.

“Not quite as big as me,” he smirked, “but it will help…”

“Please,” your thighs tensed as the toy beneath you kept buzzing, “please, sir, no more.”

“Shhh,” he stood and rolled the machine around you.

You listened to him as he adjusted it and lined it up with your cunt. He pushed it until the tip was at your entrance and you stretched around it as he inched it forward. He stopped until the toy filled you. There was a momentary lull and then a subtle whir added to the vibe of the toy as the dildo moved mechanically in and out of you.

You sucked in air as you were fucked by the toy and Steve fixed the vibe beneath you so that it was flush to your clit. You cried out and he backed away as he looked you over. You squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to resist the pressure building inside of you. The steady motion of the toy was enough to push you further and further with each stroke.

When you opened your eyes again, you found Steve leaned against the table, his eyes watching you over a sketch pad as his hand moved a pencil on the other side. You didn’t even have the sense left to be ashamed. You bit your lip and rolled your eyes back as you succumbed to another orgasm. You heard his low hum of satisfaction and quaked atop the bench.

You groaned and opened your eyes again as he neared. He pet your head and held up the pad before you. Lines of graphite etched your image onto the paper and you stared at the sight of your fearful pleasure. He smiled proudly and stood. He puffed his chest and ripped free the page and taped it up with the rest.

“I think that’s the best one,” he said, “it’s a lot easier with the real thing.”

You quivered and panted against the bench. He disappeared behind you and the toy plunged into you even faster and deeper than before. You grunted and lifted your head as you arched your back.

“You’re doing so good, sweetheart,” he reached under you again and clicked the button on the toy until it was on the sixth setting, a vibration that built to top speed only to restart at the lowest and build back up, over and over, urging you to climax only to ease off right before it came, “you’ll be ready… soon.”

He retreated and you looked around your shoulder as you heard the pinpad, “where… where are you going… sir?”

“You need time,” he said as he opened the door, “I’ll be back when you’re ready.”

The door closed and you whined. You tried to rip your hands free from the straps and kick your legs but did nothing but add to the whirlwind of pleasure and pain. You were screwed, literally.

💌

You didn’t know how long Steve left you for but it felt like forever. You hardly heard the door as he entered or the deep of the pin pad as he locked it. You only truly knew he was there when the machine stopped. He slowly slid it out of you and rolled it back to the corner. He took the dead toy from beneath your cunt and paced around you.

He wore only his briefs and stopped by the table as he rubbed the front of them. Your vision was hazy and your mind could only think of your core. Even after all that, you wanted more. You need more. You’d been fucked for what could have been hours but hadn’t cum since he abandoned you.

He pulled down his underwear as he faced you completely. He was only half-erect as his fingers toy with a silicon ring. You squinted as he squirted lube onto the ring and rolled it down his length. He grunted as he got to his base and stroked himself as he neared.

He traced an oily finger along your cheek and gripped your jaw, “open, sweetheart.”

He was completely hard by then and pushed his tip to your lips until they parted. He slid inside as he spread his hand over your head and pinned it to the bench as bent his legs. He poked at your throat but didn’t force himself deep, even as you hardly took in half his length. He fucked your mouth carefully as your saliva squelched loudly.

“You ready for me?” he asked as he continued to thrust, “hmmm?” He pulled out of your mouth and you coughed as your spit clung to his tip. He pushed a finger against your tongue and bent over you, “we have lots of time to use that mouth…”

He stood and dragged his hand down your back and came up behind you. He groped your ass and spread your cheeks with a purr. He rested his cock between them and rubbed himself against your ass as he kneaded your hips.

“You ready, sweetheart? You gotta tell me,” he dragged his nails down your thighs and you trembled.

“I’m… ready…” you gasped out, “sir, please…”

You couldn’t think straight, you could see clearly, and you surely couldn’t fight it any longer. You wiggled your ass and let out a pathetic groan.

“Mhmmm,” he gripped his cock and pushed his tip down along your folds. He pressed against your entrance and tapped it cloyingly.

“Please… sir,” you begged, “please, I’m good. I’m being good.”

“Yes, you are,” he praised and pushed into you just a little.

You moaned and slowly he inched deeper. He was bigger than the toy, thick and throbbing as he filled you more than you could handle. You whined and exclaimed as his pelvis came flush to your cunt. Your toes curled and you scratched at the metal.

“Fuck,” he bent over you, his hard torso to your back, “you are so tight…” he whispered in your ear and felt along the clamp over your nipple, “is it too much, sweetheart?”

You nodded and bared your teeth. He pulled back and you exhaled but he thrust just as deep and you shouted in surprise. He did it again as he crushed you against the bench and squeezed the clamp tighter on your nipple. Your voice trickled from you in weak whimpers as your body shook uncontrollably.

His other arm snaked around you and he buried his hand beneath your pelvis. He parted your folds with two fingers and flicked your clit with another. You murmured and rolled your head against the leather as he sped up, his flesh clapping loudly as he hammered into you without restraint.

“Ah, sweetheart, I don’t think I’d last much longer,” he purred in your ear, “fuck I coulda cum in your mouth if I didn’t… prepare.”

He stood up and kept his hand under you as he rutted into you, his free hand against the small of your back as he played with your bud and tilted his hips wildly. His voice mingled with your own but you were so dazed, you could only hear the squelching and slapping of your bodies.

“You’re mine,” he panted between thrusts, “aren’t you? Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m… yours…” you uttered, “sir...CAPTAIN!”

You shouted as he slowed and rolled his hips tauntingly. You raised your head and squeezed the straps of your restraints as you tried to bend your legs. Your body tensed and your back arched against your will. Your tongue lolled out of your mouth as you came at last.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he groaned as you gushed around him, “fuck, you fit me perfect.”

You dropped your head and he pulled back to grip your hips, fucking you faster and harder. Your entire body ached as he railed into you. The bench quaked under you and you feared both you and the metal would break.

“All mine,” he buried himself entirely and held himself there, “sweetheart.”

He pulled out of you suddenly and you gulped at air as he came around you. He bent to unstrap your wrists and ankles. He lifted you off of the bench and you let him, too weak to stand on your own. He bent his knees and scooped you up, tossing your arms over his shoulder as he held you against him and entered you from below.

He nibbled your lip as he moved you up and down his length and you hugged him loosely. He walked around as if you weighed nothing and turned to lay you down on your back, staying inside you as he stood over the bench. He gripped your sides and rammed his hips against you as he held your ass just above the leather. Your reached up and clung to the bench above you and let your eyes roll back once more.

“Mmmm, don’t pass out on me now, sweetheart,” he grabbed your chin and forced two fingers into your mouth, “I’m not even close to finished with you.”

[gotnofucks]

A Man’s World

Pairing: soft!dark!Andy Barber x Reader

Summary: To advance in a man’s world, you must allow one to own you. He promises you success, as long as you give yourself to him.

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: Dub-con (at the beginning), smut, language, implied age gap, poor knowledge of law and legal system, 18+ ONLY

A/N: This is my late entry to Berry’s Sugary 4k Challenge (everyone go and send some love to @donutloverxo​ for being so awesome. I am also dedicating this fic to Lexi ( @bluemusickid​ ) who’s had a difficult few weeks recently. I hope you feel better my love.

Sweat was building under your top hat, the urge to itch making you frustrated with the delay. The officer before you was young, probably your age and fumbled with the papers you had handed to him. You tried to relax, almost as nervous as the man in front of you and tried to console yourself with the fact that he was far too jittery to look at you long.

No one will find out, you’re safe.

“Sir?”                                                                                  

You chewed your chip, feet tapping irregularly on the ground in agitation.

“Sir?” The officer said again, peering at you worriedly. You quickly pulled down the rim of your hat, still not used to being called ‘sir’.

“Uh, yeah. Yes.” You said, clearing your throat and trying for a deeper voice. The officer handed you your papers back, all signed and stamped. “Thank you.”

He nodded slightly and motioned for you to wait while your client was brought out. This was the first time you’d been out in the open alone, the fear of discovery clashing with the freedom that ran in your veins.

“Did you bail me out?” A rough voice asked. You looked up at Mr. Lane, a huge mountain of a man who towered over you. You nodded and offered him your hand to shake, wincing as his rough palms scratched against your soft ones. He looked doubtfully at you and you could understand why. You barely looked like a person who belonged in the police station, no matter as a man or woman.

“I am Mr. Barber’s assistant. He was busy with a hearing and sent me to bail you out. If you’d follow me to his office, he’d like a word before we proceed to your trial next week.” You explained, a little more confident. You knew the work, you knew the ways. You only needed to sell your lies to make your truth valid.

Mr. Lane nodded, following and entering the coach outside the station after you. He sat across from you, eyes narrowing as he ran over your soft features, the clip clop of the horses the only sound within.

“You old enough to be an assistant, boy?” Mr. Lane asked, and you scowled. Oh, how you’d like to tell him you were old enough and good enough to be not just an assistant but also a lawyer. You could be the one representing him in court and making him a free man. You should be that one. But, alas, this world doesn’t see women doing much rather than peeling potatoes and popping out a child every second year.

“I am.” You replied in a gruff tone that made it clear you weren’t about to entertain more questions. Your companion nodded, looking out the window and into the streets where peddlers screamed about discounted watches and handkerchiefs and buttons. Not many people had cushioned coaches like this, but Mr. Barber insisted one for your travels.

The journey to the office was quick and silent and you gestured Mr. Lane to follow you up to the top floor where your boss sat in his office. Some people nodded at you, now getting used to seeing you here though they didn’t stop to talk. You had never spoken much to anyone here outside of the receptionist who was deaf in one ear and considered every man under the age of 40 was a boy.  

“Wait here, I’ll let you in in a moment.” You said and had Mr. Lane take a seat on the benches outside. Then, you knocked softly and entered, shutting the door after you. Andy was sat behind his desk, frowning at some paper, and beckoned you closer without looking up from them. You walked over to him, licking you lips softly.

“Sit.” He said, taking your hand and pulling you into his lap. You positioned yourself on his thigh, squirming a little. He scribbled something in the corner of his paper before pushing it away with a sigh, turning his face to you. His eyes, bluer than the ocean at the docks, glittered at you and a small smile curled on his lips. With a practiced move, he removed your top hat and released the band that held your long locks tied together at the top.

Running his fingers through your hair, he leaned closer to press a kiss on your lips. You instinctively kissed back, holding onto his shoulder and moulding your lips to fit his.

“How did it go?” He asked, caressing your cheek softly. You fingered his collar, not looking in his eyes.

“I was worried someone will see through me.” You softly murmured. “There were so many men out there.”

Andy chuckled, pressing another kiss on your lips as his hand sneaked around your waist to bring you closer.

“There are always going to be men around. But you must remember you’re better than them. Better than any other son of a dick out there pretending he is the boss.”

You looked at him at that, taking in his beautiful face that had you smiling and crying in equal parts. You could tell exactly how that well-groomed beard felt between your legs, how those lips could make you utter the filthiest of sounds and curses and how those large hands touched you in the dark of the night.

“Better than even you?” You tentatively asked and Andy smiled, taking your hand and bringing it to his mouth.

“You’ve always been better than me.” He said. You blinked and looked away, his gaze far too intimate to hold. Try as you might, you could not figure this man out. Months you’d spent with him, living, and working and being his any way he asked, and yet he was as much a mystery as he’d been the first time you met.

“Uh, Mr. Lane is waiting outside. Should I call him in?” You asked and he nodded, squeezing your side before releasing you. You put your hair up again and wore your hat, hiding your face under its shadows and calling the client in.

When a girl turns a certain age, she is expected to find the most eligible bachelor and flutter her eyelashes in a bid to secure a match. Your mother threw grand balls for your sisters and was planning an even grander one for your introduction to the society. But you had had enough of dancing with lecherous bastards with as wandering hands as their eyes. You couldn’t stomach the thought of being bound to one of them, so you took your chance and ran.

Leaving behind your quaint town, you entered the bustling city with an assortment of clothes and a heart full of hope. It took you a week to understand that this was no place for you, no place for a lady who dreamt of being her own person. No one wished to employ you, a young girl who had no business demanding pay and rights.

However, in this bustling city of strangers, you found a man who wished to own you. Andy Barber told you in no uncertain terms that he would not hire you as long as you dressed like a woman, but he also promised that he could train you to be better than any other man. Provided, you give yourself to him. You weren’t naïve enough to pretend to not know what he was asking for, but you were desperate enough to say yes. This was better than a marriage anyway. There too, a man would have parched his thirst over your naked chest, but at least here you could learn and get paid for it without being bound to him.

Andy was not unkind. As a mentor, he was strict and meticulous. He worked you hard, taught you well, gave bitter feedback but praised you just the same. As a lover, he was exacting, exploring your chaste body with touches rough and soft, demanding response and reverence. The first night you laid with him, he spent hours worshiping you. His lips, lined by his bushy mustache, traced your face and neck, roving over each contour of your body until his mouth had tasted all.

The modesty you had guarded forever was bare to his gaze, but he didn’t lust like a man who cornered women in dark alleys. He had knelt before your open legs like men of cloth did at the lord’s altar, kissing the dewy folds of your sex with so much passion and delicacy that you had indeed felt like a goddess. Never had you imagined a man to put his mouth there, not when your mother had told you it was unclean. Andy, on the other hand, tasted it like he tasted absolution in your nectar.

He taught you more than simply law. The pleasures of flesh, of learning to please yourself and your companion were lessons that took place in the dark of night. He whispered things that Satan preached in your ear, seducing you into sin that you soon came to crave.

“Touch yourself”, a command he gave often. Nothing pleased him more than seeing you bring yourself to completion with your eyes trained on him, thoughts full only of him and how his body rocked yours.

You had done a great many things with him, things that had you flustered for days on end whenever your thoughts would turn to him, but what you were doing now was nothing short of scandal. It was blasphemous, something that would ruin you way more than if people found you falsely parading as a man in the city.

“Andy!” You hissed, pushing against him to no avail. He had dragged you into the men’s room inside the courthouse, cornering you against the wall and pressing his body flush to yours. He was wearing his best clothes today, about to represent an important man in a case that had made the front page for two weeks straight. Time together had been more work than pleasure, and it seemed Andy had reached his breaking point right before the trial started.

He started working on the buttons of your waistcoat, a frenzy in his eyes. “I need to take you now. This might as well be the most important case of my career, and I’ll begin it by being inside you, and end it just the same!”

You moaned, letting your hands roam his body as he finally undid your waistcoat and shirt, frantically ripping away at the bandages that bound your breasts. As he took one of your hardened nipples in his mouth, you palmed his pulsing hardness from over his pants, shivering at the thought of feeling it inside you again.

He scared you like this, for someone could walk in and see the illustrated Andrew Barber making a beast with two backs in the male room with someone who greatly resembled a man. He will be ruined. You would be ruined. And as of now, the very thought of that caused wetness to pool in your underpants.

“Get on your knees and taste me.” He urged, pulling out his cock and pumping it. “As you sit beside me today, I want you to have my taste in your mouth. One day, I’ll sit beside you too.”

You were a gently bred lady of impeccable reputation, but you sunk to your knees with the practiced move of a street woman to take him eagerly in your mouth. Oh, if your proper mother could see you, sucking a man like a whore in the damp men’s room, her teachings of propriety and modesty all but forgotten. But nothing made you feel more than a woman that receiving Andy like this. His desire, his need for you burned in his eyes and you lapped on those flames to quench the thirst in your heart.

His hand moved behind your head, easing you into taking him deeper. “Look at me” He whispered, and your eyes met his, shining with unshed tears. He did this to you, reduced you to who you loathed to be and yet loved. Swirling your tongue over his soft skin, you bobbed over his length, the squelching sounds filling the small room.

Just like always, you tasted his power and his yearning. The milky drops of precum coated your tongue, your nose taking in the smell of his musk as he groaned above you. He reduced you, but then why did you feel raised?

“Touch yourself, let me taste you too.” He ordered, and you complied. Your hand slipped inside your pants, finding your moist core. Generously lubing your fingers in your slick, you rose on shaky knees and presented your wet fingers to Andy who sucked them eagerly in his mouth. Warm, wet, his tongue took in your taste with relish.

You couldn’t stop but stare into his blue eyes, eyes that should have haunted your nightmares, but you only saw them in sweet dreams. “Kiss me” You begged, and he did. He kissed you like a man starved, like a man who could suck out your soul and draw it in himself. He kissed you like dew kissed the morning grass, like the colours of rainbow that scattered in the sky to paint it pretty.

“Tell me where you want me, how you want me.” He said, surrendering control. You stilled, hands resting on his chest. How were you to lead him when he was infinitely more experienced about the art of making love?

“I – I want you inside me.” You softly said, eyes fluttering as you shy looked away. Why was saying what you do so many times so difficult.

“Inside where?” Andy asked, tilting your chin up again. You gulped, your face and chest flushed.

“In my – in my” You stuttered, fearing to speak the word he spoke often. “In my pussy.”

You would have thought he would ravish you as soon as you said the words, instead he brought you closer and nudged your nose with his. His breath came out in erratic spurts, his need evident in his gaze. “You will put me inside you, however you want. It’s time I let you take some lead.”

Holding his gaze, you pumped his length gently before turning around and presenting him your ass. You struggled to position him, trying to place his tip at your opening. He didn’t move an inch to help you, only chuckling slightly when you huffed in frustration. Finally, you felt him at your slit, and you slid him between your folds carefully, trying to coat him in your wetness like you’d seen him do.

“What if someone walks in?” You asked, hesitating for just one moment.

“They’ll have to wait while we finish. You’re not walking out of here unsullied, so how about we hurry up?”

You pushed back into him, taking him inside your pulsing sleeve with ease. The stretch of his cock had always felt good, a pain that had a lasting effect and reminded you of him. As you moved back and forth, urging him to meet you halfway, you wondered why the self loathing never came. Andy had a way of making you feel like a queen when others may suspect you of nothing more than a whore.

“Andy” You brokenly said as he thrust inside you faster, “I want more. Please.”

He gave you more. He took over, holding onto your waist and sliding home inside you in deep, powerful strokes. You whined under his assault, jerking when his fingers found your nub and mashed it. Praises, curses, words of love and lust that had the power to destroy hearts and armies flowed freely from his mouth, as if the only thing tethering him to this earth was your body.

Your hands went to play with your breasts, a strangled moan caught in your chest. Suddenly, even when he moved inside you with such passion, you craved more intimacy than his cock could offer. You tilted your head to the side, offering him your mouth that he took in a sensual kiss. You were so close that you couldn’t decide what limb was yours and which was his anymore. In the age old dance of sensual love, you became one.

“What do you want?” He asked, and your eyes met his. He asked you this every time, and you had always answered the same thing. But today, this felt different. You were in the courthouse, a lawyer’s battleground and also the place of worship. He was more than your mentor and boss, he was also the man who you had grown to care for so deeply it could only be called one feeling.

“Inside me. I want you to finish inside me today.” You answered and his hands clutched you tighter. You’d never allowed that before, never allowed him to call you his so completely. But you felt compelled by his heat today, by the desperation he never bothered hiding from you. Once, this may have felt like a chore. Today, it was your blessing. “Andy, make me yours.”

He groaned, pumping in you with abandon and bringing you over the edge with his fingers that were running circles around your clit. You moaned loud, blubbering in pleasure that spilled from you, uncaring if someone were to walk in. His thrusts were getting irregular, hips jerking until you felt him twitch and release inside you in hot spurts. Warmth bloomed in your core, your essence mixing with his.

He hugged your sweaty body to his, the wool of his coat scratchy against your flesh. “You were mine, even before. Now, more so than ever. And one day, when you’re ready, I’ll claim you in front of the world as fully as my heart has done in private.”

You felt him run his thumb over your ring finger and licked your lips. He wasn’t asking, and you weren’t answering. But one day, maybe you will. Until then, you were happy to be his beautiful secret, posing as his assistant and learning from him.

“Don’t,” He whispered hotly in your ear, turning you around swiftly. “Don’t think too much. We’ve got a case to win.”

He helped you dress again, buttoning your shirt and waistcoat with nimble fingers. He was getting back to being your boss, and you couldn’t have been prouder of him at this moment. One day it will be you in his spot, you knew it.

“Just one question.” You said, fixing his tie and smoothening the wrinkles on his clothes. He raised an eyebrow at you, softly smiling at the mischievous look in his eyes. “What will happen once I am a lawyer too?”

Andy chuckled, pressing the softest of kisses on your lips. “Whoever wins more cases gets to be on top of course.”

You exited the men’s room with him, head high as any other man’s. As you entered the courtroom, you licked your lips and smiled as you tasted him on your tongue.

[forever-rogue]

Baby Steps (A Good Man)

A/N: Hello my sunshines! I’m back with another little installment of the AGM ‘verse with our favorite Javi and Dulzura! I love them so much and I’m glad y’all do too! I hope you guys enjoy!  As always, comments and feedback are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged let me know! Xx

*can be read as a standalone or part of the ‘verse as a whole*

Pairing: Professor! Javi x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: language, pregnant!reader

A GOOD MAN ‘VERSE MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

JAVIER MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Mrs. Peña?” the sound of your name still surprised you, despite the fact that the students had been calling you for several months now. A grin worked its way onto your face as you looked at the young boy who was watching you with wide, eager eyes. Putting your pen down, you motioned for him to continue, “will you come outside and play with us?”

“You want me to hang out with you guys?” you almost laughed at the idea that any kid deemed you worthy of spending time with them, “I thought teachers were lame, Mikey?”

“Some of them, but not all of them! You’re pretty cool,” he smiled and displayed his toothy grin. How were you supposed to say no to him? You nodded and stood up, taking the hand he was holding out to you, “besides we’re playing kickball and we need one more person!!”

“I should have known you were just using me for my exceptional skills,” you pretended to be hurt as he pulled out of the building and into the playground, where the sun was shining brightly. 

Normally, you’d have turned him down, opting to get some work done during the lunch period, but decided you might as well indulge him and yourself. You really enjoyed the kids you had this year, and it was a gorgeous early spring day. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

Turns out, kickball with a bunch of seven and eight year olds was not as simple as it seemed. They seemed to come up with all sorts of nonsense rules, and on top of it all, they happened to be extremely competitive. And yet...you were thoroughly enjoying yourself - and glad you had opted to wear jeans today instead of a skirt or dress. Javi had been particularly fond of the tight, high-waisted jeans that hugged you in all the right places, getting very handsy before you both had to leave for work. Typical Javier; not that you minded of course. 

“Come on, give us a good one, Mrs. P!” Mikey yelled at the top of his small lungs as you proceeded to kick the ball that was rolled at you. You offered up a firm kick, but not one you would have used if you’d been playing with only adults. Taking unfair advantage was something you definitely didn’t want to do.

As soon as your foot made contact with the red rubber ball, you watched it whistle through the air before running to the first base. But...it was over before it started as you ran and then immediately proceeded to trip over your slightly untied shoelaces. You made contact with the hard earth before you knew and rolled your ankle in the process. 

You landed with a mixture of an annoyed sigh and a loud oof as you chided yourself. You should have made sure they were properly tied before doing anything. The kids clambered around you, faces anxious as they tried to make sure you were okay. Physically you were sure you’d be just fine, but mentally your pride was wounded. Oh, to make a fool of yourself in front of a bunch of children. 

“I’m alright,” you promised as you slowly rose to your feet; an instant tinge of pain shot through your ankle and leg as you almost lost your balance again. Maybe you were hurt… “it’s alright - you guys go back to playing and I’m going to go back to the classroom and sit for a moment. I might have twisted my ankle.”

They nodded, but gave you wary looks as you hobbled back inside the building. You should have remained the umpire and refused to play; you were obviously not coordinated enough for any of this. Slumping back in your chair, you rolled up your pant leg and hissed at the sight of the already swollen ankle. Shit.

“You’d better get that checked out,” Anna, one of the teachers from across the hall looked at you with a pained expression, “looks painful.”

“Nothing some rest and elevation won’t fix,” you insisted as you slumped against the back of the chair, “I’m too old for this! When did I become an adult?"

“Hey, at least they think you’re cool,” she huffed playfully, “they never ask me to play! But seriously, that looks pretty bad. And it happened at work, you know how they get about stuff like that.”

“Fineeee,” you groaned, “I’ll go to the school nurse.”

“I would recommend an actual urgent care or ER visit,” she raised an eyebrow, “besides, you know how Javi gets - he'll flay us all if he thought we weren’t looking out for you.”

“He’s...something else.”

“He’s amazing,” she reminded as you nodded in agreement. For how much of a worrywart he could be, you knew it was all out of love, “now go and get it checked out. I’ll handle getting the sub in and telling everyone. You have enough to worry about. Can you make it okay, or will you need a ride? Should I call Javi?”

“I can drive myself,” you promised, thankful it happened to your left foot and not the right, “I’m not going to bother my darling, overprotective husband just yet. Not until I can confirm that nothing is actually wrong. I don’t want him to stress over nothing, and I’m sure by the time he gets home tonight he’ll just be laughing at me and my clumsiness!”

“Alright,” Anna grabbed your purse and handed it to you, as you managed to slink out of the chair, “go get checked out and feel better. If you need anything at all, just call me.”

“Thanks for all of your help,” you hobbled towards the door, trying to keep as much weight off of your foot as possible, as Anna grimaced at you, “I swear it’s not that bad - worse than it looks.”

“Sure, sure,” she disagreed politely, “now quit stalling and go get help!”

»»————-　♡　————-««

The white walls and bright lights of the exam room were enough to rattle your nerves, even if just ever so lightly. You sat on the examination bed and tried to keep yourself calm as you waited for the nurse to come back and begin examining you. Nothing but the distant sounds of people outside and the tick-tock of the aging clock met your ears. You almost wish you’d called Javier just to have some company. Shit.

“Mrs. Peña?” a kind looking woman, maybe around Javier’s age poked her head in as you nodded, “sorry for the wait, we’re pretty busy right now. You’re here for a rolled ankle?”

“Yeah,” you answered as you relaxed at her comforting presence as she came in and sat on her rolling stool, eyes immediately dropping your swollen and irritated ankle, “I was playing with my kids outside - kickball - and then tripped over my own damn feet and ta da!”

“Were you at home when this happened? Playing with your kids?”

“Oh no, I’m a teacher,” you quickly explained, a warm flush rising up your cheeks at the thought of children, “it was on their lunch break at school. I-I don’t have any children of my own.”

You weren’t sure why you felt the need to offer up a clarifying statement.

“I see,” she made a few notes before turning back to you, “it looks pretty bad, to be quite frank. I’m going to assume it wasn’t a break, a sprain rather, from how you’re managing, but we’ll need to do some x-rays to confirm. We’ll do your blood work as well just to make sure everything is in order. Before we do x-rays or anything - are you pregnant?”

“No,” you admitted, looking at your feet as you tried not to sigh. It had been on your mind recently, and you weren’t sure quite what to make of your own feelings on the matter. While you hadn't been actively trying, you couldn't help but wonder if it would ever happen.

“Any chance you could be?” 

“Umm,” you twiddled your thumbs as you shrugged your shoulders, “I-I suppose. I’m not on birth control and my husband and I don’t use protection...we’ve been trying but not trying if that makes sense? But my cycle’s been regular so I highly doubt it.”

“Okay,” the scratching of her pen on paper was almost maddening as she was making notes and you just sat there. You could curse yourself for babbling on to her, but you couldn’t really help it. Besides, it’d be better for them to know all the details if they were going to x-ray and poke and prod you, “very good. Let me just go get everything and we’ll get started and a better look at everything. We’ll have you set and on your way in no time.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Here you go,” you scratched Stevie’s ears as you offered him a treat, a scrap of carrot from the vegetables you were chopping up for dinner, “what do you think, buddy? Should we tell him tonight?”

“Should we tell who and what tonight?” Javi’s voice startled you so much that you almost dropped your knife. You hadn’t even heard him come in, ever the sneaky DEA agent as he walked into the kitchen. A smile was on his face as he came over to you and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, “hi baby.”

“J-Javi,” you couldn’t help but melt into his touch, despite his surprise arrival, “you’re home!”

“Oh very observant of you, Dulzura,” he teased as he pulled back and started to undo his tie. It was only then that he noticed you weren’t wearing what you had earlier in the day; you were in one of his sweaters and a pair of joggers and… “what the hell happened to your ankle?!”

There it was  - Javier switching into overdrive. You put everything down on the counter and turned to him, putting on your most innocent and sheepish expression. His large, warm hands found your face as he looked you over to make sure you were okay. 

“It’s nothing, Javi,” you promised him, “I swear it. It’s just a bad sprain, but I went and had it looked at and they wrapped it and gave me pain killers. It’s umm...a stupid little story actually…”

“What happened?” he bent down and reached out to tentatively and delicately cheek the binding to make sure the nurse had properly tended to your sprain. He made a small sound of disgruntled satisfaction before standing up and waiting for a proper explanation, “why didn’t you call me?”

“I didn’t want to worry you, Javier,” you promised as he crossed his arms over his broad but acquiesced with a nod, “you’re so busy, and honestly, it wasn’t a big deal at all. Besides, Anna was ready to call you immediately, but I told her not to worry. All that happened was that I was outside with the kids and we were playing kickball and I tried over my laces, fell, and twisted my ankle. It hurts, but no fracture or anything.”

Javier’s lips twitched as he tried not to laugh, his shoulders shaking with effort as he just studied you, “are you....are you serious, Dulzura?”

“Don’t laugh at me!” you pouted as he started laughing at your dismal nod when you confirmed that that was what actually happened, “they thought I was cool and how was I supposed to say no to them!? I’m the cool teacher to them!”

“And look what that got you,” he snickered as you sighed heavily, “I’m sorry - I’m sorry. As long as you’re okay, that’s what matters. Whatever you need, just tell me the word and I’ll make sure you have it. I’ll take good care of you, Dulzura.”

“I know you will...you always do,” your heart raced as you tried to decide whether or not to tell him the rest of your revelations. But then he looked at you with those eyes, those soft brown, gentle eyes, and your heart melted. He gently pulled you into his arms as he kissed you again, chasing after your soft, sweet lips with his own, seemingly never able to get enough of you, “Javier, I love you.”

“I love you too,” you felt him smile against your lips, “what’s brought on your sudden declaration of love, mi alma?”

“I...I’m pregnant,” you blurted it out without even really thinking about it. Javier pulled back as a surprised expression crossed his features. He looked at you, seemingly in a state of shock, before opening and closing his mouth a few times, “Javi?”

“You’re pregnant?” he repeated as you nodded. It took about a moment for everything to finally come full circle as he finally realized what you had said. Immediately, an overwhelming wave of emotion came over you as you felt the back of your eyes start to sting with tears. He grabbed your face and slowly crashed his lips back onto yours and kissed deeply and slowly, “holy shit.”

“I know,” you beamed at him, “they asked before they did x-rays and blood work and then well...they discovered I was pregnant. I had no clue and then they told me and yeah - holy shit."

“That’s amazing,” he said softly, “pregnant....”

“I know,” you breathed him in and ran a hand through his dark curls, “I’m not far along, only like six weeks, so it’s still very early, but yes. We’re finally having a baby, Javier!

“I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around and held you in a tight embrace, “I love you so much.”

“You deserve this - everything. You are such a good man, Javier, and I am so honored to call you my husband, and the father of my child,” he almost melted under your praise as you traced along his features before resting your hand on his cheek, “I love you, Javi. I am so excited for this.”

“Me too,” he agreed, “this is everything - you are everything.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

3 months pregnant

“Dulzura?” Javier yawned as he wiped the sleep from his eyes as he got up and found you in the kitchen, peering into the fridge. You were in the mood for...something. You just weren’t sure what that something was. Everything sounded good but nothing seemed to satiate that craving you had deep within, “what are you doing up?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” you admitted, hoping you hadn’t woken him up by accident, “and I got hungry. I’m sorry if I woke you, my love. Go back to bed, Javier.”

“It’s fine,” he insisted as he shuffled into the kitchen and slowly pried you away from the fridge, “sit down, and let me make you something to eat. What sounds good?”

“Javier,” you did as he asked, padding over to the other side of the counter and taking a seat at the bar. You rested your head on your hands as he stifled a yawn, "honey, go back to bed. You're exhausted and you've got back to back classes tomorrow."

"They start in the late morning," he insisted, with a sleepy nod as you just laughed at him. He was such a stubborn man sometimes it drove you crazy - but you knew it came from a place of love and concern, "don't sleep well without you anyways. 's better when you're there."

"Oh, my sweet husband," he reached into the fridge and pulled out some cheese, butter, and your favorite pickled jalapeños. You watched in curiosity as he went to the bread box and grabbed the fresh loaf of bread you'd purchased earlier at the store, "grilled cheese?"

"Grilled cheese with jalapeños," he corrected, a lazy smile tugged up the corners of his mouth. You made a small sound of musing as you realized it didn't sound too bad at all, "and tomato soup, naturally. How does that sound?"

"Sounds delicious," you grinned eagerly as you leaned in to watch him work. You made a small sound of surprise as your stomach rumbled loudly. Apparently you were hungrier than you had thought, "apparently, my stomach and I agree. I think its your daughter that agrees."

At the mention of your baby, Javier paused and smiled, his eyes flitting to your barely visible bump. Some days he still couldn't believe that you were having a baby. You were his wife. What a wild world it was indeed; years ago he'd never dreamed he would have all of this. The Javier that once existed and refused to believe that there was any light in the world could never have pictured any of this. 

But here you were. Continually proving him wrong. And he loved it all.

"Wait - how do you know we're having a girl?" he asked, suddenly wide awake as he raised an eyebrow at you, "I thought we still need to wait another month or so."

"We do," you grinned at him, "but I just know. I'm sure of it!"

"Well, you do have a fifty-fifty chance of being right…"

"I have a hundred percent chance of being right," you insisted as you reached over the counter and grabbed the jar of pickled jalapeños and fished a few out, and popped them into your mouth, "don't argue with your pregnant wife, Javier Peña. You of all people should know not to cross someone so dangerous."

He snorted with laughter, suddenly feeling much more awake as he sliced up cheese and turned on the stove, "and if we end up having a son?"

"Then we keep having more until we have a daughter and I am proven right," you plastered on a sweet smile, knowing it would wind him up. You'd never really discussed how many children you wanted or planned on having. It was just a sort of...whatever happens happens type thing. But, if you were being honest, you'd probably have given Javier as many children as he wanted. Your husband fell silent as he watched you for a moment before taking the jar away from, "nothing to add? Silence isn't like you, my love."

"We can have as many as you'd like," he promised, "you're the one doing all the hard work. If you're done after one, then it's fine for me. You already amaze me every day."

"Don't make me cry, Javier," your whole body soaked in the warmth and love from his simple words, "its getting really easy at this point, and you're taking advantage!"

"Sorry," he shot you a wink before leaning over and pressing a soft kiss to your lips, "back to business."

"Hmm," you mused quietly, "I thought kissing me was business."

"I thought you were hungry?"

"Fine," you playfully huffed as he carried on cooking, "Javi?"

"Dulzura?"

"I love you," you beamed at him, the little smile that worked its way onto his face take your breath away - as it always had. 

"I love you."

»»————-　♡　————-««

6 months pregnant

A huff escaped your lips as you tried to reach for the socks and underwear that had fallen out of the laundry basket. It was no easy feat when you couldn’t see your own feet anymore. But you were determined to get everything up and off the floor as you walked back towards your bedroom to put away the clean clothes. And you weren’t about to give up and ask for help - not yet anyway.

Instead, you opted to awkwardly lower yourself to the floor in order to blindly grab for the discarded items. But it was no use...this was almost harder. 

“You alright, Dulzura?” Javier came in and found you struggling, cleaning his dirty hands off on a rag. He’d been working outside, getting the garden spruced up as the summer slowly came to an end, “can’t reach?”

“I can,” you stuck your tongue out at him as he huffed with laughter, but motioned for you to go on. Wanting to prove that you were right, and weren’t completely helpless after all. It hadn’t been easy having to give up a lot of the things you used to be able to do with ease as you progressed in your pregnancy. The fact that none of your pants would fit over your belly anymore had been a point of horror for you - it meant you were truly and actually pregnant, you were actually having a baby. You’d always known, but that had been what made it all extremely real. Every day you got closer and closer to your due date, it all became a little more real. Exciting - but terrifying. 

Not being able to see your feet had been another blow. You could hardly get proper shoes on anymore, opting for easy slide ons, which were great for the warmth of summer and didn’t matter since you were on summer break along with your kids. It was almost as though Javier could sense your frustration, and he’d often silently help you with getting your shoes on in the morning. He never said a word, knowing he didn’t have to. He always told you he loved you in so many ways, often without saying it. 

You tried to again, dangling your hand along on the floor as you tried again. After watching you struggle for a moment, Javier came over and grabbed everything in one foul swoop before taking your hand in his and helping you upright. 

“Hey,” you pouted at him as he put the items back into your basket, “I almost had it!”

“I know,” he kissed the tip of your nose, “but I wanted to help. Why can I not help my gorgeous wife?”

“Your very pregnant and easily frustrated wife?” you teased as you started to walk towards the bedroom. He followed after you, swatting at your bum as you squealed in delight, “Javier!”

“Come on, mi alma,” he grinned, “let me help put everything away.”

“If I let you help, you’re just going to take me to bed and then I’ll have to wash the sheets again!”

“I’ve never heard a single complaint from you before,” as you set the basket on the dresser, he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist before settling a hand on your belly and gently rubbing it a few times. He pressed a few kisses to the side of your neck as you tilted your head to give him easier access, “there we go, Dulzura. Just like you like it.”

“You’re the worst,” you teased as you turned your head to kiss him, “you’re lucky I love you. And I’m seemingly always in the mood right now - they really weren’t kidding about pregnancy making you more horny. Although, I’ve never heard a single complaint from you before.”

“And you never will,” he promised, his low in your ear as you tried not to completely let your mind wander too far away, “do you have any plans for this afternoon, Dulzura?”

“N-no,” you  managed to choke out as one of his hands skimmed along the waistband of your leggings. You knew exactly where this was going, and you were loath to stop him, especially as he slowly kept kissing you.

“Good,” he rasped, “because I have plans for you. Been thinking about you all day, especially in these tight leggings. You knew exactly what you were doing, didn’t you honey?”

“Uh huh,” you agreed as his warm hand slipped inside and a shiver ran up your spine, “Javier. Please.”

“Don’t worry, mi alma,” he captured your gasp in a sweet kiss, “I’ll take good care of you.”

The laundry could definitely wait.

»»————-　♡　————-««

9 months pregnant 

It was an early, chilling morning as you sipped on some tea as you sat out in the garden. It was probably too cold to be sitting outside, but you were handled up in blankets and didn't care. 

Christmas was a few weeks away and you enjoyed peeking into the neighbor's yards to see what they all had going on for decorations.

"Are you sure you don't want to come inside?" Javier poked his head out from the sliding screen door, his brow furrowed in concentration, "its freezing! And I have breakfast!"

"I've got blankets and a baby keeping me warm," you reminded him, pointing at your large belly. You were due in a couple of weeks; how time had flown. He jokingly frowned at you, sticking out his tongue. Playfully rolling your eyes, you clambered to your feet and waddled over to him, "fine, hold on you big baby. This is because I want breakfast."

Javier was on his winter break from teaching and you were on maternity leave now and you definitely didn't mind having him around all the time. If you could have always had it this way, you definitely wouldn't have minded.

"I'm just looking out for you," he insisted with a pout as you pressed a kiss to his lips, "I talked to Papà. He's really excited to come in a few weeks - more like excited to meet his grandbaby."

"I'm not complaining at all," you insisted, knowing there would be many sleepless nights and chaotic days ahead of you, "we'll need all the help we can get. Hell, maybe we can convince Steve and Connie to come and visit too…"

"I'm sure we'll have all the help in the world between our families and friends, Dulzura," he promised as he took your hand and pulled you into the warm kitchen, putting a plate of breakfast for you on the counter, "I'm sure we'll get sick of having so many people around."

"I guess we'll just have to wait and see," you took a bite and smiled as Stevie laid by your feet. The whole house was warm and cozy, perfectly decorated for Christmas, with a huge tree and already lots of presents. Javier had really outdone himself this year, seemingly more in the Christmas spirit than you. Honestly, you were feeling a little bit out of it - being so pregnant would do that to you. 

You watched your husband for a few moments, admiring his profile and lazy smile. Gods, you were still so in love with him. He felt you watching him closely, and turned to you, cooking a dark brow, "what's on your mind, mi alma?"

"Nothing much," you shrugged lightly, feeling a flush of warmth was over you at him catching you, "just thinking about how I love you, and how I'm glad you're here with me, that you knocked me up, and yeah. Are you…are you nervous Javi?"

"About the baby?"

"No, about the Astros' odds next season," you snorted as he groaned at your joke, "of course the baby. I'm just...so nervous. Like I feel ready to meet her, but I'm so scared that I'll fuck it up somehow."

"You still think its a girl?"

"Positive," you grinned at him - you'd decided not to find out the sex ahead of time, leaving it a surprise for both of you. You were still convinced it was a girl, Javier was undecided, "we'll find out soon enough!"

"Either way," he brought his plate and sat down next to you, "everything will be alright. You're going to be an amazing mother, Dulzura. You are everything."

"I love you, Javier," you beamed as he gently put a hand on your belly, "I know it'll be alright, but holy shit - I'm so nervous. Its getting so real lately. We're going to be parents."

"Parents," he repeated, "fuck."

"Who would have thought-" you were quickly cut off when you felt the baby flutter round. A small sound of surprise left your lips as you grabbed Javier's hand and placed it on your belly, "she's telling you not to curse."

He was silent for a moment as a smile spread on his features; despite having felt this many times by now, it still continued to surprise him. He couldn't even imagine how it felt for you, "this is...everything."

"I realized I didn't know what to get you for Christmas so I got you a baby instead," you don't know why it came to mind, but as soon as the words left your lips you brought into a fit of laughter - Javier joined in, a brilliant sound that you adored above all.

"Best Christmas present ever," he whispered before leaning in and giving you a gentle kiss - sweet from the syrup and pancakes he had just eaten, "I mean it. I love you both more than you will ever know."

"We love you too," you grinned as he stroked your belly, "I'm glad your class was the only one available and I took it. I'm glad you were a grumpy professor that let me into his office - I was able to work my magic and look where that got us."

He threw his back with laughter, his dark curls shining brilliantly in the light as his eyes crinkled in the corners. You'd never been more glad for subjecting yourself to his class.

"Me too," he whispered as he put a hand on your cheek, "you always were a stubborn thing."

"Some things never change," you stuck your tongue out at him, "I trust your daughter will be the same!"

»»————-　♡　————-««

You were humming to yourself as you shuffled around the kitchen and tried to put together a mid afternoon snack when you felt an odd sensation in your lower belly. It caused you to drop the knife on the counter as you held onto the marble and gritted your teeth. Stevie was at your feet in an instant, looking at you with concern.

"Its okay, buddy," you reassured him as the pain passed. Surely it couldn't have been anything too bad...probably just an end of pregnancy pain. Sighing at your nonsense worry, you reached for the knife again but before you reached it, the pain was back, "never mind, shit shit shit."

Trying to keep yourself calm, you leaned against the counter and tried to even your breathing. Contractions. Of course. You were due in a week and you still hadn't been expecting it.

"Javier?" he was down the hall in the second bedroom that had been converted into the nursery, putting away the final touches of clothing. Before he could respond, you felt an odd sensation followed by liquid running down your legs, "Javier!"

"What's wrong, Dulzura?" he rushed down the hall and back into the kitchen, worry etched onto his features as you stood there in shock and clutched at your belly, "honey-"

"My water broke," you said meekly as you pointed to your wet pants, "and I've had a few contractions - I think the baby's coming."

"Okay," he immediately kicked into gear as he remained cool and calm, despite wanting to panic and worry along with you, "its okay. I'm going to get the hospital bag, we'll get you in the car, Stevie to the neighbor, and then we'll go and have a baby."

"You make it seem so simple," you huffed lightly as you tried to channel his inner calm demeanor, "we'll be okay, right? I-I'm scared…"

"I know, honey," he promised as he kissed the side of your head, "you've done so amazing already, it will all be okay. I'm right here, okay? I'm just going to grab your bag and the dog and we'll go. Ten minutes and we'll be on the way."

"Okay," you agreed as he practically ran down the hall to get your packed bag, "we're going to have a baby, Javi."

"Indeed we are," he agreed with a small smile as he reached for his wallet and keys and stuff for the neighbor to watch Stevie for a few days, "we're having our baby."

Holy shit.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“You’re doing amazing, sweetheart,” Javier praised you as you squeezed his hand after another push. You groaned and gritted your teeth as you glared at him; this was absolute hell, “the baby’s almost there.”

“Shut up, Javier,” you hissed as you got ready for another push, “I am never letting you touch me again! You did this to me.”

“Hey - it was a team effort,” he reminded you in a vain attempt at a joke. Your death glare and the squeezing of his hand said it all, “sorry, Dulzura. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you said as you took a deep breath, “but right now, I’m blaming this on you.”

“Fair enough,” he said as you pushed again. He was sure his hand was going to break.

»»————-　♡　————-««

It wasn’t much longer before you were laying back and holding the smallest bundle you could ever imagine in your arms. You were somewhere between crying tears of joy and exhaustion, as you stared at your newborn daughter in awe. Javier was sitting next to you, looking down at her, his own eyes glossy as he gently touched her cheek. She had the darkest eyes and a shock of dark hair, already taking after her father. She had come into the world squealing and crying but had fallen asleep almost as soon as Javier held her. 

“I told you we were having a girl,” you teased him softly, “I was right. Look at her, Javier. That’s our daughter. We made her.”

“You did all the hard work, mi alma,” he whispered as he pressed a kiss to the side of your head, “she’s beautiful.”

“Lucia Luna Peña,” you grinned at your husband, “it’s perfect. I love you both more than you could ever know. Javier...you really are everything to me - the best friend, best husband, and now the best father. She’s going to love the hell out of you, just like I do.”

He remained silent for a moment as he looked at the sleeping baby before looking back at you. His whole world was in his arms, and the thought of that alone was enough to overwhelm him with emotion. He’d never thought he wanted this - a “boring” job, a home, a wife, and a baby. 

But here he was. And he had never felt happier, never felt more full of love and life. This was everything. 

“I love you so much, Dulzura - you and Lucia,” he promised as he rested his head on top of yours, “you have given me everything, more than you know. Te quiero con todo.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[reidsconverse]

welcome home • spencer reid

DOM!SPENCER X FEM!READER

Warnings: SMUT!!! masturbation (F) oral (F) unprotected sex! choking, spitting, squirting, spanking, daddy kink, mild degredation (if u squint)

A/N: my first spencer smut!! i hope you all like it and check out my other work, under the #myworks! tag and please send feedback!

"I miss you so much." You sighed, Spencer was currently away on a case and he thought it’d be another week until he was back.

"I miss you too doll, but we've already done 3 weeks we can do another one." Spencer said, this was the first time he’d been away for this long and it had taken a toll on both of you, "I gotta go, Hotch is calling, I'll talk to you as soon as I can okay?" He said.

"Okay, bye Spence, stay safe, Love you." You said before putting the phone down.

Four days had passed since you'd talked to Spencer, and you really missed him, it had been a long 3 and a half weeks since you two had been able to have sex and you were starved. Spencer had left you with some rules: 1) Don’t touch yourself. 2)Don’t use the toys he bought you. 3)Under no circumstance should you cum.

But you were so horny you couldn’t have cared less, and so consequences be damned you began stripping yourself of your clothes and sat back on the bed. You slowly built yourself up, teasing your breasts and running your hand over where you needed it most but never touching. Thoughts and memories of the last night you and Spencer had shared, how he'd felt inside of you, his hand wrapped around your throat and his other hand digging into your hips leaving small bruises.

You slowly placed a finger across your slit feeling how wet you were, and you scoffed at how he was able to get you so turned on when he wasn't even here. You inserted your finger, slowly curving it to hit your spot and you gasped, it wasn't Spencer but it was good enough, you continued this and brought your other hand to rub against your swollen clit. Short gasps and moans left your mouth, and you were grateful that your neighbours weren’t home at that moment as you were being so loud. You came with a chant of Spencers name, your head was thrown back and vision going white.

You stopped and lay there trying to catch your breath before you were caught off guard by a small, slow claps coming from the door, and you gasped when you saw Spencer standing there leaning against the door frame. "That was quite a show, doll." He said in a low voice, a small smirk across his face.

You were shocked and flustered to say the least, "Shit, Spence? What are you-you're not supposed to be back for days" You said before sitting up on trembling knees. He made his way over and placed a hand on your chin, lifting your head up before placing a small kiss against your lips.

"We finished early, so we came home." He said ridding himself of his jacket and converse. "Fuck I missed you so much. Wanted to surprise you and treat you for being such a good girl whilst I was gone." His hand wrapped around your throat pulling you up so you could face him, “But you weren’t a good girl were you? Just a slutty brat who couldn’t follow daddys instructions.” His hand reached up before making contact with your cheek which made your eyes roll back and let out whine, “Shhh, not a word from you little girl.” He pushed you back on the bed and hovered above you.

He moved his lips down to your neck at an agonisingly slow pace slowly, his hand making his way to your bare heat, a finger rubbing figure eights against your clit. "How about we play a game," He said pulling away to take his shirt off. You looked up at him questioningly, "I'm gonna give you an orgasm for each week I was away." He said before getting on his knees, facing your wet pussy. "Would you like that doll? Want me to make you feel good?" He said, his tone full of dominance and teasing causing you to whine and let out a muffled "yes".

He placed a short sharp slap on your inner thigh before rubbing it gently, “I couldn’t hear you princess, wanna try that again?”

You were so desperate for him at this point, so horny you were in fuzzy headspace where all that matter was him, his name flashing in your mind. Spencer Spencer Spencer.

“Yes sir. Please make me cum, w- need you to let me cum, please please please daddy.” You whined, as he hummed in approval.

He looked up at you as he slowly let a trail of spit fall from his mouth on to your soaking heat, leaving small kisses against your clit before working his way up your body to your heaving breasts, he brought his mouth to grab one of them, his tongue swirling around the hardened nipple and slowly sucking, his hand kneading your other breast. You were so distracted by him working wonders on your upper body you didn't even notice his hand making its way down to your soaking pussy until he placed a finger against your swollen clit and continued rubbing figure 8's, you gasped and moaned at the feeling of him pleasuring you.

"Come on babe," He said before switching the side his mouth was on, making sure to treat them both equally. You were struggling to catch your breath and the familiar heat started stirring in your stomach, he pressed down hard against your clit and you could feel yourself let go.

Spencer didn't give you a moment to rest before inserting a finger in to ease you in, before adding another finger and moving them curving them to just brush against your g-spot. His mouth worked it's way up from your tits to your neck and you could feel him leaving marks down it and onto your collarbone. "Fuck, fuck daddy I'm so close." You whimpered and he gave you a shit-eating grin before adding another finger and tapping your g-spot causing you to go over the edge again, your legs were trembling as he took his fingers out of you and shoved them in your mouth to let you lick them clean allowing you to taste yourself and you moaned as he bought his lips to yours again.

"Daddy, please. Need your mouth" You whined and to your surprise he went back on his knees and began placing small kisses across your thighs, leaving small bite marks along the way. You could feel his breath against your burning heat and you looked down, his pupils were dilated and he had a smirk on his face.

"Who made you this wet?" He asked, his eyes marvelling at the sight in front of him.

"You did." You said, your voice low and hoarse.

That answer didn’t please him, as he suddenly bought his hand down leaving a sharp slap on your clit causing you to buck your hips, "I said, who made you this fucking wet, who made you cum this many times. I wanna hear you scream it doll."

“You Spencer, you did." You said, your voice still a whisper but he knew soon enough you'd be screaming.

His mouth made its way onto your slit, licking a stripe up, dipping in teasingly before making its way to your clit and leaving small kitten licks against it making you gasp and let out a loud whine. He nipped at your clit before moving his tongue back in between your slit and devouring you like you were his last meal. He was grinding his hard cock against the mattress to find some friction, ready to be inside of you as soon as he made you come again. It didn't take long for you to feel your orgasm building up once again, your hands went to grab his hair, tugging at the long strands and you screamed his name and curses as you felt the pleasure wash over you. It was the most intense one you'd had so far.

Spencer sat back in awe, staring at your panting body, your breasts heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. He did this, and he felt so proud, he was the only one who could make you feel like this and he knew it.

"Spence, holy shit." You said, he was soaked from where you had squirted but he didn’t care, he stood up to remove his trousers and boxers, his hard, throbbing cock springing out, it was oozing pre-cum, and you couldn't wait for it to inside of you. You may be tired but you wanted more, you'll always want more with Spencer .

"You good, doll?" He asked you gently. You nodded and pulled him closer to you. "One more baby, come on." He moved down and gripped his cock, teasingly nudging the head against your puffy clit making you whine before slowly pushing it inside of you. He stilled to give you a moment to adjust, his mouth wide open at the feeling of you clenching around him "Holy shit you're so fucking tight." He groaned, his head falling into the crook of your neck and leaving small kisses there.

"It's been - fuckin shit - 4 weeks Spence." You practically screamed, loving the feeling of him filling you up. He began moving and set a quick and brutal pace, you both knew that neither one of you was going to last long, you were already so sensitive from this overstimulation, and Spencer had been close ever since he had tasted your sweet release. His hand wrapped around your throat, gripping so hard you were sure the marks would be on your for weeks. Your nails dragged across his perfectly sculpted back as a hand gripped on your hips, definitely leaving marks which wouldn't fade for weeks. Pornographic moans left you as he strategically lifted your leg over his shoulder to go deeper and hit your g spot perfectly, your pussy gripping him like a vice letting him know you were close.

"Cum for me, come on darling cum all over my cock." He grunted, and as if your body was made to listen to him, to obey him, you had the most intense orgasm you'd ever had, your back arched, head thrown back, legs shaking and all you could see were stars. It seemed to last for minutes, you felt fucking euphoric. Your release triggered his and he came inside of you coating your walls, your name leaving his mouth like a chant. You closed your eyes focusing on steadying your breath and you were relieved to feel him dropping next to you before pulling you in for a deep kiss, much softer than the ones before.

After a few moments, he leaned down and got a shirt to clean you up with. But first, he needed to tease you one more time, so he placed his thumb on your clit and watched in awe as you clenched around nothing causing his cum to drip out of you. You whimpered at his touch, still sore and sensitive from your 4, well 5 including the one you gave yourself, orgasms.

"Are you okay?" He asked you gently, and you laughed.

"I'm fine, I probably won't be able to walk for a while but I'm okay. Welcome home baby." You said giving him a quick kiss.

"I missed you so much, I'm never leaving you for that long again." He said, wrapping an arm around you. "Get some sleep doll, we can catch up tomorrow." You closed your eyes again, mumbled a small goodnight and leant your head against his chest beginning to drift off. Spencer waited a couple of minutes to make sure you were asleep before he placed a kiss against your forehead and whispered a small, "I love you." Because he did, he didn't think he was capable of loving anyone and you'd proved him wrong. He held you close as he drifted off into the most peaceful sleep he'd had in weeks, all because of you.

tagged: @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @slutforthegubes @ooooohoki @meowiemari (reposted)

[12gaugefalls]

Bottom of the River

A Sinclair brothers fanfic. (House of Wax)

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A/N: Hi guys! I got this fanfic idea from a song I listened to called "Bottom of the River" by Delta Rea. (Please let me know if I got that wrong.) I would really like to know your feedback on this and if you would like more! Thanks! Have a great day!

Tw: implied child abuse, guns (although brief), blood. Please tell me if I missed anything

( This font is signing)

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(No one's POV)

It started out the same. It was always the same for them. Yelling, screaming, fighting and survival was second nature for the Sinclair boys. These things made sense to them, like breathing or drinking water.

Leaving the house was easy when no one wanted you there, so packing a small bag filled with bottles of water and small snacks, they head out to their place. A place where they weren't sure if they were wanted but no one was yelling at them to get out so they stayed. They went there over a thousand times, it had rarely changed. A small part of the river that wasn't too deep in some parts but so deep you couldn't touch it in others.

Now, Louisiana has its mystery, everywhere you looked you would find something that didn't quite make sense but a part of you told you to keep moving and don't acknowledge it. This river had never changed in the Sinclair's short lives, but it had today. The brothers had only been there for a few minutes when it changed, it wasn't subtle. The distant sound of yelling and the muffled sound of footsteps is what caught their attention. And through the bushes on the other side three figures emerged.

The figures looked to be trying to catch their breaths, all the while, the brothers watched. When the figures looked up at them, they were shocked to say the least. Three girls (judging by the clothes they wore) about the same age as them, stood across the river. But that's not what scared the Sinclair boys. What scared them was that the girls were almost identical to them. From the scaring on Vincent's face and the puppy dog look Lester always sported to the bands of scars on Bo's wrists, these girls looked like them. One of the girls, specifically the one that looked like Vincent, quickly looked down to hide her face. The girl with Bo's scars stepped in front of her sister, something Bo would have done for Vincent.

The girl had said something to them but it was muffled, like a barrier had been placed to keep them separated. The brothers looked at each other confused before looking back at them. The Vincent girl, since they didn't know their names yet, started to sign.

"Who are they?"

Was all the brothers could make out as she was still behind her sister. Vincent stepped closer to the waters edge, Bo grabbed his arm to keep him from going any closer. Vincent started to sign to the girls and they seemed shocked that he could. After answering a few questions, none of which made sense to any of them, the brothers found out the girls names were Emily, Bo's counterpart, Scarlett, Vincent's counterpart, and Charlie, Lester's counterpart. They lived in a place named Ambrose as well, and from what they described it sounded exactly like theirs. Needless to say the brothers were confused, sure they had seen their fair share of weird things but this was weird.

But child curiosity couldn't be swayed. The brothers came back whenever they could throughout the years, eventually making friends with the girls who didn't seem to grow up as they did, staying young well into the brothers adult years. The river hadn't changed again... until it did.

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It had been slow that day, tourist season dying out. Soon there would be no one to use for art or Bo to take his anger out on. But it came collectively to them, and they went. Went to the river where the sisters were. And that's when it changed, when the Sinclairs lives changed. It changed how it did the first time, muffled yelling and running, until the girls burst through the tree line once again. But the yelling didn't stop and they were different from the last time the brothers had seen them. More damaged, more injuries than last time. Emily started shouting at her sister and Scarlett scooped up a crying Charlie and moved to the river.

Throughout the time the brothers knew these girls they had passed things through the barrier, small things like trinkets or drawing stuffed in bottles. But never anything big and never anything living.

So when Scarlett tried passing Charlie through the barrier, the brothers understandably freaked out. Vincent was the first to understand that Scarlett wanted them to take Charlie and moved into the water. He heard Bo yelling at him to get back here and to not go any closer but he couldn't, or maybe it was he didn't want too and soon enough he was standing in front of the two girls, just as a man, who looked strangely like their father burst through the tree line. He started to push his hands through the barrier, even though his hands felt tingly and grabbed Charlie. Lester had moved to the waters edge and when Vincent handed him the crying girl he quickly brought her to the sidelines. When Vincent looked back at Scarlett, he noticed she was moving back towards her sister. Emily was standing there, screaming something at the man, until she pulled a small gun from her waistband and pointed it at the man.

At this point time seemed to slow down for the Sinclairs, as they watched different versions of themselves fight like they had their whole lives. The man looked scared but even Bo could see the burning rage the man had and the temble of Emily's arms. The little girl wasn't prepared for her own father to jump on her, knocking the gun out of her hand, and started to try to kill her. That's what sparked something in Bo. If you were, to ask him what it was, he'd say he couldn't tell you but it moved him. It moved him across those waters and through the barrier. It moved him so fast that he didn't know he killed the man until Scarlett's broken screams finally hit his ears.

Scarlett wasn't screaming for the man, no she was screaming for her sister who lay unconscious and bleeding on the ground. Bo stood up seeing Scarlett cradling Emily, and slowly walked over to them. Gently placing a hand on her shoulder, he moved to pick up the injured girl. Once she was secured in his arms, he moved into the water and to where Vincent was waiting with open arms.

The girls, who the brothers had known most of their lives, were now on their side of the barrier. They took the girls back to their childhood home, where Charlie had pointed out looked exactly like theirs, and Vincent moved to their fathers old office to fix Emily up. The brothers could tell there was no going back from what they had done but with the three peacefully sleeping girls in the spare bedroom, they couldn't find it in themselves to care.

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A/N: and that's it! That's the thought! I hoped you all liked it and i hope it was worth the time! Any feedback is much appreciated and is welcome! Thanks! Have a great day!

Tagged: @beaugard-sinclair, @waxxl0ver

[nanakasaa]

everything between them - eren x mikasa

pairing: eren x mikasa

words count: 1.4k

summary: eren and mikasa arrive earlier than everyone to jaeger’s camp house and they just happen to know how to spend their time the best way possible.

cw: nsfw, oral sex (m receiving), slight dumbification, unestablished relationship

note: so guys it was super spontaneous and I wrote it in notes on my phone in like 30 minutes or so. and I might write a longer and more detailed version of this or a part two. i would also appreciate your feedback! thanks for reading!

it was mikasa who started it.

of course it was her. always needy and desperate for eren. for his touches. for his affection that never failed to drive her crazy; to make her drunk. to make her think that in a whole world it was only eren for her. and in a way it was.

they arrived at jaeger’s camp house earlier than anyone else. armin had some unfinished assignments for some smart ass class he was taking this year. he said he needed to submit it before they all go up in the mountains and he would be torn between enjoying his time with his two best friends and his family or being locked up in the house. but eren knew him better than this and the slight pink shade of armin’s cheeks when he promised he would be there, just two days later, didn't really help him. the true reason probably was a blonde girl who happened to rent an apartment in the same building as eren and armin did. but as a good friend, eren just nodded, pretending he didn’t know shit and asked him not to be too late or he would miss all the fun.

eren’s family,  levi and armin’s grandpa unfortunately couldn’t make it on time too. since the road to the camp village had to be blocked due to heavy snowfall. with no overpass they all had to stay at some road motel and mikasa joked about how filthy levi must be feeling.

so it left only the two of them alone in the house they spent half of their lives.

but as it always happened in mikasa’s presence all those things suddenly became meaningless to eren. the second she got on her knees in front of him, he completely…

“oh shit...mikasa...fuck!” he spits out almost harshly as his legs tremble when she swirls her hot tongue around his tip.

he is almost afraid to look down at her. afraid he would just come undone if he meets her innocent gray eyes. if he sees her cute mouth stuffed with his cock.

holy fucking hell.

the things she does to him.

eren didn’t even remember when they moved from best friends to lovers. or were they just friends with benefits since they never established whatever relationship they had between them now? he stopped seeing other girls when they first kissed and he was sure mikasa wasn’t really going out with anyone before. at least she never told him.

and without much conversation they somehow decided to keep it all secret. not telling anyone of what they were really doing in mikasa’s apartment every other day besides quick study sesh. and this mutual concealment they both shared brought them impossible closer to each other. intimacy and fondness, as well as thousands of other feelings,

but eren wishes he knew what was all this between them. if he could really call mikasa his.

until then…

“just like that, miks,” he can’t bring himself to say her full name now and when he hears her moaning, voice muffled, at his praise, he blindly reaches his hand out grabbing at her silky hair firmly.

mikasa started off with long, slow licks from top to bottom, her tongue giving particular attention to that prominent vein on the right side of his dick. just how she knew he liked it. slow and nice. she wanted nothing more than to feel him inside of her mouth already, but she didn’t want to rush. not now when they got this precious extra time alone together.

and that’s how after teasing, licking and sloppy wet kisses she pressed all along his cock, she got eren hot and trembling. by now his only desire was probably just to grab her head and fuck her. slam himself into her mouth. she would let him. just a little bit later. for now she wanted him to herself.

she soothes him, kissing his tanned skin of his inner thighs, her hand reaching out to grab him. eren groans at the contact and mikasa looks up just to see him looking down at her this time.

it is intoxicating.

his pretty green eyes.

heavy breaths he lets out through his parted mouth.

but more it’s the aura around him.

dark and twisted.

filled with lust.

trailing wet sloppy kisses across his thighs mikasa slowly pumps him. her hand smeared with a mix of his precum and her saliva from her short-cutted intercourse before . it helps her move her hand effortlessly against him until her mouth reaches his length again and she presses kisses to its tip, finally taking him between her lips once again.

she likes to watch him in a moment like this. so aroused and so senstive. but it is the thought that he is like that because of her that makes her take his cock deeper in her mouth. and as much as his body reacts to it, hers is doing exactly the same. cause for mikasa sucking him off is not only for his pleasure. it’s for hers too. so it’s to no one’s surprise when she feels a burning need that goes straight between her legs. aching to be touched, filled, licked… anything.

anything would do now.

so she takes it further, putting her left arm on his thigh for support as she welcomes his cock as deep as she can take him. her right hand jerking around what she can’t welcome into her mouth.

and suddenly it gets too much for eren, but not really enough.

he wants more. he craves more of her.

eren shudders. and then the next moment he is shaking both of his hands stretching out to grab a fistful of mikasa’s dark hair. and before he pulls her off of him, eren pushes her all the way down. and she is choking and gagging and her whole body is trembling. she tries to say something and maybe to pull him away because her hands are in the air and her scream is indistinct, but eren is quick to react.

“fucking hell! fuck!” he still holds her hair in his hands as he speaks in low thick with arousal voice.

after some seconds and heavy breaths his gaze travels to her hunching figure next to his legs. her breath is unsteady and as much as he can see her her chin is glistening with saliva. it’s fucking messy and he loves it.

he loves her.

the overwhelming feeling makes him soft and he moves his hands to hold her face. his thumbs gently rubbing circles around her cheeks, soothing her. and when mikasa is almost calm, eren brings himself closer to her. his full lips hovering over hers which are terribly pink and plump.

“you are gorgeous. so so gorgeous.” eren doesn’t really think that this an appropriate thing to say right now. not after he forcefully slammed his cock into her throat.

mikasa lets out a small giggle. she probably doesn’t consider his little praise a suitable thing to say either. not when the insides of her neck hurt from his sudden move a minute ago. not when she can still feel him on her mouth. but maybe she’s already too fucked out to even understand this.

“i want you, mikasa.” eren mumbles, running his hands through her hair on the either side of her head. “i want to make you feel good. will you let me?”

“yeah.” mikasa says in a hushed voice and this is all he needs to hear. “yeah. please. i need…”

but she doesn’t finish the sentence. and the unspoken words burn his tongue when he kisses her.

they could save all those talks for later.

for now he wants nothing more than to feel her on his cock.

to make her his again.

to fill her tight cunt with his seed.

to hear her whines and moans. to hear his broken name coming out from her lips.

to have her in his arms after they are done.

to watch her fall asleep.

they can talk later about their relationship.

well, they have all the time in the world plus a week in jaeger’s camp house, don’t they?

who knows what can happen in a week?

[goldenkirstein]

somewhere only we know

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chapter two: don't know where, don't know when

pairing: jean x gn! reader, mikasa ackerman x gn! platonic! reader

wc: 2.2k+

tags: angst, fluff, aot manga spoilers, mention of food/drink, mentions of death.

a/n: chapter two !! finally done my exams, this took me a while to finish but hopefully it sounds good and you enjoy it !! feedback is always appreciated

prev. ✭ next

series masterlist

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The shrill noise of the kettle broke you out of your thoughts.

You reached over to the cupboard situated next to the stove, taking two tiny teacups alongside a teapot and set them down on the countertop. Hands moving like clockwork, you grabbed the loose leaf tea jar and placed two spoonful's in the teapot. Your hand moved to grasp the small cotton cloth from the counter, swiftly pouring the hot water into the teapot before placing the kettle back to cool down.

You chuckled at the sight in front of you; the teaware set adorning your family crest, the piece of cotton bearing the Azumabito clan’s symbol, and the tea blend was an old Braus family recipe. The entire house was like this, a mish-mash of objects from here and there, never truly fitting in where they were. You began setting up the small table, placing the teapot and teacups down. The raucous noise of the wooden chair scraping against the floor made you grimace.

Your fingers began to trace the delicate needlework on the cloth, occasionally catching on raised bumps of threads. It was the work of a skilled artisan as well as an amateur. Mikasa and her mother.

Waiting for Mikasa to return from her bath, your fingers traced the embroidered emblem, you began to get lost in your thoughts once again.

“Is the tea ready?” Mikasa’s soft voice interrupted your repetitive movements.

You quickly set down the cloth and shot her a kind smile. “Yeah, come sit.” You poured out the tea in her cup before pouring out a cup for yourself.

She accepted your invitation, sitting opposite you. The woman began scooping spoonfuls of sugar in her tea, an old habit from training years. You remembered how you once mistakenly took her cup, thinking it was yours until you took a sip and immediately spat out the sickeningly sweet liquid. The others and she wouldn’t stop laughing at you until Captain Levi had come and threatened you all, bearing that stone-cold expression that struck fear in your bones. How was he doing?

“Are you okay? You seem out of it today.” Mikasa looked at you; worried expression etched into her face, eyebrows scrunched together.

Your fingers circled the teacup, and you let out a sigh looking down at the fragrant liquid. You could lie, tell Mikasa you’re okay; knowing her, she wouldn’t prod you any further with questions. Though she would spend all night thinking about you, and you didn’t want to worry her. Option two was scarier, in your opinion; you could open up and tell her what was troubling you, Mikasa would undoubtedly be concerned, but she would appreciate your candidness.

Taking a deep breath in, you glanced back at the girl before your eyes landed on the frame behind her. “I’m just anxious about tomorrow,” you let out a nervous chuckle, eyes meeting Mikasa’s again.

“I already told you, we’re all a little different. It’s nothing-”

“No, it’s not that; I- what if they hate me? Mikasa, what if he hates me.” Your eyes shifted between the frame and Mikasa’s, voice coming out as a whisper.

She took a sip of her tea. Your name slipped out of her mouth in a tired sigh, “they would never, and Jean isn’t like that. He could never hate you.”

The framed picture behind Mikasa was of the scouts on their expedition to Marley. Sasha had pulled the lot of you inside the cramped shop, begging all of you to take a photograph. She had said that you all needed to document the momentous occasion; who knew when the opportunity would come again. Your beaming faces contrasted the scowl the Marleyan had on his face when you all crowded in his tiny shop. Commander Hange had even managed to get the Captain to join in, and subconsciously you thanked Sasha and Hange for their pestering. Who would have known that it would be one of the last times you would see them alive and breathing, that after that night, everything would change.

You noticed Mikasa’s soft smile in the picture, and Eren-who stood behind her, was looking at her instead of the box camera. Armin had his arm around Eren’s shoulders, and Jean and Connie were next to him, directly behind you. Your eyes trailed down Jean’s arm; it rested on your shoulder. You were sandwiched in between the Captain and Sasha, head resting on her shoulder. All of you were giving your best smiles, save for Eren. He was living through his hell, and the rest of you were oblivious to it. How could you have known?

He had stayed behind with you at the photographer’s studio after everyone had left to visit the other shops Marley had to offer. The both of you walked around, observing the various framed pictures the Marleyan had hung up to advertise his work.

Jean trailed softly behind, watching as your fingers traced and lingered on the stained brass frame.

“What do you suppose their stories were?” You turned your head, smiling at the boy behind you. He approached you, his finger and thumb hooked under his chin, as he thought of a story for the people seated in the photograph. You waited for him to amuse you with his foolish tall-tales, noticing that Jean screwed his eyes as he intently examined each person in the picture.

He raised his eyebrows, a grin breaking out on his face; he flickered his eyes to yours, “they’re a South-Marleyan family hiding a terrible secret. They’re those godforsaken Island Devils.” He leaned in to whisper in your ear.

You pulled away, head whipping back to see if the photographer had heard; thankfully, he was preoccupied with developing your photos. You spun back around to hiss at Jean, “You can’t just say that, you dipshit! What if he heard!”

Jean laughed at your stressed state, “Well, you don’t need to worry; he didn’t.”

You began to walk away from him, but before you could get far, he reached out and wrapped his fingers around your wrist.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry, please don’t be mad at me.” You looked back at him, his eyes pleading for you to stay.

You relaxed your shoulders and rolled your eyes at him, “wonder what shitty story you’ll come up with for our picture.”

“Brave heroes, their valiant efforts saved the world, and they were given mountains of gold and the finest wines possible to repay them for their kind acts.” He pulled you closer to him, and you giggled at his antics. “Oh yes, and one soldier more extraordinary than the rest-”

“Obviously, that’s me.” You quickly cut him off, silencing him with your remark. You gave a quizzical look at the boy, who was now sporting a noticeable blush.

He sharply inhaled and gave a smile, opening his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, the Marleyan shop owner began to talk, “Your jibber-jabbering is getting in the way of my work. If you’re not buying anything else, leave my store.”

Jean took your hand in his and offered the man a quick apology before pulling you out of the shop with him.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t held your hand before, and yet the simple action sent your heart fluttering. His hands were warm and his grip tight; you wanted to melt into his touch and never let go.

However, the moment was cut short, as once you were out of the shop, Jean promptly let go of your hand, apologetic eyes meeting yours, “didn’t mean to pull your hand, sorry ‘bout that.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

You flexed your hand to shake off the feeling of his slender fingers against the back of your palm. He didn’t want to hold your hand back then; would he want to now? Why were you desperately clinging onto that memory of him?

“Do you regret coming back with me?” Mikasa’s soft voice broke you out of your trance.

“No, God no. Don’t say that. If I had to go back and have the possibility to make a different choice, I would still go with you.” You looked straight at her, gaze conveying your unwavering resolve.

You brought your hands up to your face to rub your tired eyes. “I don’t regret coming with you. I just never got to see them one last time, and I don’t know, how do I face them?” You let out a frustrated sigh. “Before, I could at least say that, hey, these are your friends, you know them better than anyone else, but now-”

You shook your head and set your eyes upon the chestnut cabinet directly underneath the picture frame. “It’s like I’ve been iced out.” You raised an accusatory finger at the cabinet which was situated under the picture frame. “Three whole years and the only reason I know Jean's even with the rest of them is because of Armin.”

Inconspicuously placed, the cabinet blended into its surroundings; for the most part, it held dishes, pots and pans alongside any other trinkets that didn’t have a place to belong. However, in one of its chipped and worn drawers, tucked away under a false bottom, were several letters addressed to a Miss. Mikasa Ackerman from a distant relative in Hizuru. These letters, of course, were actually from a Mr. Armin Arlert, from Marley, detailing updates about the peace talks that involved him, the other scouts and the ex-warriors. The letters were always short and concise, never revealing too much, as a protective measure. The exact reason for why you had stashed them in a hidden compartment; to ensure that if these letters ever fell in the hands of Yeagerists, that they would not be able to grasp the entirety of what Armin’s plans were. However, it also meant you were left to fill in the missing pieces, also missing the whole story.

“I miss him, but who exactly am I missing? We’re both different people now, and I don’t know if I’m ready to face that.” You waited for a response from the dark-haired girl in front of you.

“That head of yours is your worst enemy.” You scoffed at her statement.

“Just listen to me for once, please?” Mikasa tentatively reached over to wrap her hands around yours.

“I understand that you’re scared; I am too. But you can’t keep getting lost in the ‘what if’s’ of a situation. Tell me, how long have we known Jean?”

“Eight, no, ten years?” You sighed, wondering where she was taking this.

“And tell me in those ten years has he ever decided anything without understanding other perspectives?”

“No, well-”

“Fights with Eren do not count.” Her eyebrows quirked up before she continued. “Jean is one of the most caring and compassionate men I know. He would want to know why you left before ever being absolutely positive that he hated you. Not that he would, he adores you; I’m sure of it even after all these years.”

In a way, she was right; you were making assumptions about his character despite knowing him for so long. Yet the nagging thought persisted in your mind. The only way to resolve it would be to speak with him, which brought upon another challenge. Even if he didn’t hate you, how would you gain the courage to talk to him after all this time?

“Your tea is cold. No point in drinking it now.” Mikasa stood up to clear the table, but you swiped it from her, giving her a weak smile before she could grab the cup.

You wrapped fingers around the teacup; the porcelain no longer radiated the heat from the liquid and felt cool to the touch. Mikasa watched you as you walked over to place the teacup on the kitchen counter. Her fingers skimmed over to grab the cloth with her family symbol ingrained on it.

“Mika, I don’t tell you this often, and I should, but thank-” Before you could finish your sentence, there was a knock at your door. Mikasa gave you a confused look; it was too early for the others to be arriving, so who could it be?

You hesitantly approached the door; the both of you rarely got visitors. Occasionally the Braus’ would come by, but even then, the family would let you know before they visited. Twisting the handle, a sheepish-looking young man met your gaze as you opened the door.

“Hand-deliverance of a letter from Her Majesty, Queen Reiss.” You stared at the boy wide-eyed, whipping your head back to look at Mikasa; she shared the same shocked expression.

Mumbling a quick thank you, you closed the door after the boy departed. The letter felt heavy in your hands; neither of you had spoken to Historia in “official” accordance. What could the Queen want?

Mikasa hurriedly made her way over to you, “what does the letter say?” She urged you to break the wax seal which hid the contents of the ever-elusive letter.

“The queen wishes to have us join her for dinner at her home.” You looked over at Mikasa before continuing to read the letter, “she wants us to bring Armin and the others as well.”

a/n: jean is coming dw, ik yall are waiting for that anddd ik that there hasn't been a lot of romance-y parts but there will be !! i would love to hear your thoughts on the chapter and the series !! I am hoping to get these chapters out weekly thats the unofficial-official schedule as of rn

taglist: @httpglxssy, @keijikunn, @clean-soap, @lin-xoch

tagist form in pinned !!

Leave a like/reblog if you enjoyed reading this. I would appreciate it a lot <33

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Little Bones 7

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape, anger, humiliation, control, violence, threats.

This is dark! (biker) Thor x chubby!reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: You’re a city girl stuck in a small town, but Birch isn’t as sleepy as it seems.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown and When the Weight Comes Down

Note: Here’s the finale for Thor’s part in our Birch story! Yay! But is it yay? We never known with his BDE (Big Doofus Energy). But anyway, here we go.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

MASTERLIST

Chapter 7: Baby, eat this chicken slow, it's full of all them little bones

The morning light was pale as it slipped in between the curtains and sent a shiver through you as an immovable warmth blazed against your back and clung to your body. The night ended as well as it could have, which was poorly. Your drunken outburst settled in your gut in sour alcoholic regret.

You shifted your legs, thighs tender from the last of Thor’s irritation, and carefully sat up so that his arm fell away from you. He grumbled and rolled onto his side as he tickled your spine.

“Where’re you going?” he asked groggily.

“Coffee,” you said curtly as you touched your forehead.

“Mmmm,” he hummed and the bed creaked as he turned flat onto his back and stretched.

You stood and went to your dresser. You pulled out a night shirt and swooped it over your head, your head pulsing with your unthinking excess. You glanced back at Thor, his thick torso naked above the messy blankets as he laid with his eyes shut and arms wide. His blonde hair fanned out around his head as his chest rose and fell steadily.

You left him and went to the kitchen, tiles cool beneath your feet and the air toasty as the radiator sent off waves of stolid heat. You measured the coffee and fed the machine water. You tiptoed into the hallway and took your purse from the shoe rack and searched out your emergency bottle of Advil. You swallowed them dry and went back to stand at the counter and listen to the grind.

You watched the trickle of the dark brew as it began to spit into the pot. You hung your head and leaned on the linoleum top, fingers tapping as the stream continued. You heard his yawn and his footsteps on the hardwood before they met the tile. You didn’t bother to look over and instead opened the cupboard to pull out a mug.

As you set it down, Thor came up behind you and reached to grab one of his own. He held himself flush to your back as the porcelain clinked down beside your own and he pressed against you until your hips were at the counter. You sighed and focused on the trickle of coffee.

He hummed and nuzzled your head as he drew a hand back to feel along your thigh. He brushed his fingertips over your ass and squeezed. 

“Please, I’m hungover,” you moaned, “I just want coffee--”

“I’ll be gentle,” he cooed, “besides what better to relieve some tension?”

“Don’t you ever have enough?” you scowled as he lifted your night shirt and gripped your hips, fingers tracing the line of your curves.

“Of you? Never,” he said, “last night… you know I like your teeth, kitten, but there is a time for them to come out. That wasn’t it.”

“What do you want from me?” you gritted your teeth as he continued to feel you up. You realised as his arousal grazed your ass that he was still naked, “why can’t you stop? I never wanted--”

“I’m good to you, kitten,” he intoned, “a man like me, we aren’t nice too many.”

“Nice? Is that what--”

“You goad me,” his voice deepened as he pushed his hand between your legs, “you walk a very thin line, kitten. I’d as soon grab you by the scruff.”

He bent and dragged his lips along your neck as he spread your cunt and flicked his middle finger along your clit. You hissed and gripped the counter. His touch rippled through you and you closed your eyes in futile resistance.

“But I pet you nice,” he coaxed, “don’t I?”

“Thor--”

“Mmm, that’s exactly what I want to hear,” he grazed your skin with his teeth and nipped.

You held your breath as he added another finger and played with you. You still felt the night before but the new sensations dulled the lingering ache. You quivered as he slid further back and teased your entrance, rocking his hips so that his hardness rubbed against you firmly.

You tensed as he poked a finger inside of you then another. He sank down to his knuckles and curled them, his hand against your clit as he squeezed. His hot breath seeped below your shirt as you own hitched. He shoved another finger into you and you gulped as he stretched you.

You heard how wet you were as your walls clenched him hungrily. You hated that your body responded to him so eagerly even as that voice in the back of your head kept whispering back at you to stop.

He urged you back against him and tilted your pelvis, his other hand kneading the flesh along your thigh. He trailed around your ass and stroked himself as he angled his tip along your cheeks and bent his knees to poke against his fingers.

He slid his fingers out of you and kept them on your clit as he pressed his cock along your entrance. He eased into you slowly as he drew circles around your bud. You trembled and bit your lip as you hung your head and he bit into your shoulder as he sank to his limit.

He rocked slowly as the coil twisted around his fingertips and your walls clung to him. You spread your hands flat on the counter as he moved you against it, hips hitting the curled edge of the linoleum.

Your helplessness turned into desperation to get off. You leaned back into him as you stood on your toes, back arching as you welcomed each cloying thrust of his hips. Your voice fluttered from you and echoed in your head. You muffled yourself with your palm and he tore your hand away.

He swirled his fingers faster and you breathed through your nose as you held in the rising glee. You growled as you came, legs shaking and cunt gripping him tightly. He took your orgasm as a cue and sped up, the impact of your hips growing painful against the counter.

You felt another climax about to erupt inside of you but your nerves spiked in another way as an unexpected knock sounded. Thor grunted but never wavered as he kept fucking you. He snaked his thick arm around your neck and forced you against him entirely, nearly taking you off your feet as his other hand stayed between your legs.

The knock came again, louder and impatient. Thor’s bicep pressed to your throat as your head lolled along his shoulder. He growled and his flesh slapped harder against yours as he chased his own release. Tap, tap, tap.

“One second!” he called to the door and choked on his voice.

He rammed into you hard and you felt the sudden flow inside of you. He didn’t slow as he coated your walls, not until he was spent and oversensitive. He shuddered as the knocking became constant and he let you slump against the counter as he slipped out of you. He inhaled sharply as it made him wince and he slapped your ass.

“We have company,” he said as he grabbed the paper towel and wiped himself off. 

He turned away and tossed the crumpled rectangle into the bin. You watched him stomp through the living room and curve back around to the door as he snatched up a throw to knit around his waist. You squeezed your thighs together and pulled down your night shirt as he turned the latch. You focused on pouring your coffee as shame bubbled in your chest.

“If it wasn’t snowing, I wouldn’t have waited so long,” Loki complained as Thor opened the door.

“It wasn’t that long,” Thor grumbled, “what is it?”

“You asked me to come here first thing. Do you not remember, brother?” Loki snipped and you sensed him peeking over at you, “though I might understand why your mind wandered.”

“I recall,” Thor swept back into the living room as Loki stepped out of his boots.

“Good morning,” he slithered and you looked over at him.

“Coffee?” you asked as you held up the carafe.

“I prefer tea but thank you,” he continued on after his brother and you huffed quietly. 

You put the pot back on the burner and slowly parted your legs. You ripped off some paper towel and wiped away the cum before it grew sticky on your skin. You quivered as you brushed your sensitive cunt and did your best to clean up.

You took your mug and sneaked out of the kitchen and down the hall as you heard the men’s voices. You didn’t so much as look at them as you escaped to your room. You kept the door open a crack as you searched out some clothes and flung them on the bed.

“Well, I was thinking perhaps you wouldn’t have to remain,” Loki ventured, “your organization will need you back as soon as this snow clears.”

“You hate this place,” Thor argued, “so why--”

“I hate your little band of brutes worse,” Loki interrupted, “besides, you’ve done what you needed. You’ve come to agreement with the locals and now you can be off to your usual… affairs.”

“And what about yours?”

“My business has always been cleaning up after you. You will need one here with the acumen to secure the deal and all its complex facets.”

“These men don’t sign contracts,” Thor scoffed.

“That is not what I mean. You know my skills beyond legal tedium,” he replied, “you are far too distracted to see to it all yourself.”

“Hmmm,” Thor hummed and silence rose. 

You took a gulp of coffee and clunked the cup down. You grabbed your clothes and hurried across to the bathroom and shut yourself in. You rinsed yourself with tap water before you dressed and listened again as their tones drifted through the small apartment.

“I suppose you make sense,” Thor conceded, “Heimdall hasn’t stopped calling these last days, or at least, I think. The service here… but I should be back.”

“Father, too,” Loki added. 

“Father, too,” Thor agreed, “well, let us hope this storm passes soon.”

You emerged from the bathroom and crept down the hall. Loki stood as you looked into the living room and checked his silver watch. “I will leave you to your… recreation,” he smirked at you as he raised his chin, “but I will make arrangements for my prolonged stay as you ready for your departure.”

Thor nodded and waved him away. He leaned on his elbow as he rested his chin on his knuckles and Loki sent you another grin before he strode away. He pulled on his boots and left with a lilted “goodbye” to both of you.

You waited as the conversation replayed in your head. He was leaving. At last. You struggled not to smile and instead neared and took Loki’s former spot in the slouchy chair.

“You heard all that?” he asked the redundant question. You nodded and his blue eyes flicked out the window. “Well, we’ve got some packing to do.”

“We?” you echoed, “I… what?”

“You think I would leave you here?” his mouth curved, “kitten, this little town isn’t our end. It’s our beginning.”

“I can’t just leave. I have a job, I have an apartment, and--”

“And? You can have all those things if you come with me. Better even. We have a national archive, I know one of the curators, and I think you’ll like my place--”

“I’m not going with you,” you interrupted, “you’ve done enough. I won’t leave because of you.”

“Oh? You think it’s your decision? And what will you do otherwise? Will you drive home to your mother? She’s got a job of her own and I don’t think she has any room left in her life for her daughter. Not a daughter old enough to take care of herself. To be in the care of a man rather than her parent, yes?”

“I don’t need you to take--”

“You do need me. You don’t realise it because you’ve not seen what I could do to ruin your life. Truly. I’ve been rather generous and I’ve shown you only some of what I can do. I can give you everything or I can take everything,” he sat up and stretched his arm over the back of the couch, “you don’t want to see what I can take.”

You paused and stared at him. All light was gone from his blue eyes and his expression was void of any of his usual gaiety. You sat back as his words struck you. A sudden realisation chilled your blood.

“How do you know about my mom?”

“I’ve always been rather serious about you, kitten,” he said, “so why wouldn’t I want to know everything about you.”

You thought of Bucky’s girl and Steve’s. You used to pity them and now you were them. You pitied yourself and knew then the true extent of their futility. 

As in all things, there was no denying Thor in this. But you wanted to, so much. You wanted to scream, you wanted to hit him, you wanted to run and never stop.

You got to your feet and turned away from him. “Did you want coffee?” you asked in resignation.

He was quiet for a moment. He understood and he knew you did too. That was your white flag.

“Just a touch of milk,” he replied.

You went into the kitchen and filled his mug. Yours was likely cold by then, you thought as you stirred in a cloud of milk. You replaced the carton in the fridge and stared at the machine. Your eyes crawled over every inch of the kitchen in a silent farewell. 

You never liked this place; not the apartment, not the library, not the town. You always told yourself you would give anything to leave, to make it anywhere else. You regretted those naïve wishes. It should have been good enough. It was but now you couldn’t hold onto it.

Your fingers closed around the mug and you felt the heat through the porcelain. You furrowed your brow and let go of it. You turned and neared the other end of the counter. Your eyes rested on the knife block and you reached shakily to free a blade from its slot. You gripped it tight and turned it to catch the light.

If you killed him, you wouldn’t have to worry about him ever again. And if he killed you...

What were you thinking? What were you doing? You shook as you eyed the knife but could not bring yourself to put it back. There was only one way away from this man. Any cell would be freedom compared to him.

You tucked it into the back of your jeans and took the cup of coffee. You went into the living room and found Thor on his feet, his jeans low on his hips. You handed him the mug and watched him as he thanked you with a smile. He sipped as his other hand lingered along the top of the denim.

“Enough milk?” you asked, the air thick in your lungs as the handle of the jeans poked your back.

“Just perfect,” he assured you.

You stared at him as the hate roiled inside of you. You hated him. You really did. It didn’t matter if he could get you off, that he could be nice, he wasn’t nice. He was one of those bikers. Hell, you could be certain he was a killer. You weren’t crazy, he was.

You reached behind you as he turned and set down the mug. You pulled out the knife and cocked your arm back. You were knocked back as he spun and kicked you, his own hand flying up from his waistband. You fell onto the floor and the knife clattered away from you.

He knelt with his knee on your chest and pressed the barrel of his gun to your head. He leaned all his weight on you until you couldn’t breathe. You croaked and slapped at his leg as you gasped for air. The metal was hard and unyielding against your skull.

“I see you’ve made your choice,” he said as your eyes crossed in an effort to look at the gun, “the hard way it is.”

You closed your eyes, certain it would all end with a bang. He pulled the gun away and suddenly the weight was off your chest. As you peeked out from under your eyelids, he grabbed you by your neck and thrust you up to your feet. He had you dangling from his grip as he walked you across the room.

He slammed you into the wall so that your head spun. His blue eyes seared as he snarled and leaned in.

“Don’t you worry, kitten, I’ve got a nice little cage waiting for you,” he sneered, “but for now, this will do.”

He wrenched you forward then shoved you back against the wall. Your head bounced off it and left you in a daze. He let go and you fell to your knees. He grabbed the back of your shirt and dragged you into the hall. He tossed you into the bedroom ahead of him and moved swiftly to take his belt from where it was coiled on your dresser.

He got down to straddle you under him as you batted at him weakly. Your were senseless and stupid from his assault. You thought of the knife on the living room floor and wanted to sob. He wound the belt around your neck and pulled it tight. 

“You better get used to wearing a collar, kitten,” he snarled as he leaned in, his nose brushing against yours, “or you’ll choke from it.”

💀💀💀

END

[laughingphoenixleader]

Here’s another full-fledged fic, friends!

Pairing: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla

Rating: G

A/N: This one’s set the night of Season 3, Episode 3: The Holocrons of Fate. This is my vision of how Kanera dealt with the whole K-disappearing-for-six-kriffing-months thing. Enjoy and feel free to leave feedback if the Force calls you to!

@kanerallels <3

Hera Syndulla can’t wield the Force.

Not even a little bit.

But even so, she’s been told that she has a real talent for sensing other people’s emotions.

It started when she was a little girl—a knot in her stomach or some tension in her lekku would appear out of nowhere. She’d suddenly feel frustrated, sad, or afraid without understanding why. Except for times during puberty and her time of month—unfortunately, Hera wasn’t exempt from actual mood swings—those feelings that came out of the blue were never hers at all. When these unexplained emotions appeared within her, Hera would come to find out that someone close to her was struggling with something that had induced the exact feeling that Hera had experienced. So, she was often able to figure out what the people around her were feeling before they understood it themselves. It even, on occasion, happened with complete strangers.

Over time, she even became capable of knowing whose wave of emotions she was being hit by. Everyone’s felt slightly different. Emotional intensity varied from person to person, as did how they felt their emotions. Some beings felt their emotions pounding in their temples, others carried their stress in their shoulders, while others’ feelings made knots in their stomachs materialize. Hera became such an expert on discovering how each person was feeling that she’d often greet a friend or family member by asking why they were feeling so angry, sad, or afraid. The closer she was to a person, the more sensitive she was to their emotions, and the stronger they felt to her.

Hera has never been as in touch with anyone’s emotions as she is with those of Kanan Jarrus.

During the six months when he distanced himself from Hera and the rest of his family, she had always known when the nightmares had come. But he had never come to find her like he used to when the terrors struck. Hera could feel the pull to him—it was always present, no matter how she denied it—growing inside of her until it was almost unbearable, but she had steeled herself and remained where she was (usually the pilot’s seat). She spent plenty of nights staring off into the stars like she and Kanan used to do together, feeling the pain of doing nothing gnawing at her soul. But her respect for Kanan’s desires and needs outweighed it all. She knew him better than anyone else, so she could tell that he didn’t want her help right then. If he had, he would have come and found her. He had to come to her on his own time.

For six months, Kanan hadn’t wanted her help. He hadn’t wanted her.

Hera had to keep telling herself that this hadn’t broken her heart.

When she feels the sickening wrench of panic in her chest while sitting in the pilot’s chair on Atollon, though, she knows in her core that this time is different. This time, he needs her.

In an instant, she’s jumped to her feet, placed her datapad on the floor of the cockpit, and is slamming the button on the Ghost’s controls that opens the door to Kanan’s cabin. No one but her knows that any of the cabin door locks can be overridden from the cockpit, and she plans on keeping it that way.

She’s in his cabin in a flash, heart racing and Kanan’s fear coursing through her veins. She can hear him tossing and turning in the dark as she presses the button to turn on the lights. The dark-haired Jedi in the bottom bunk is drenched in sweat, the sheets twisted around his thrashing form. His scarred eyes are shut tightly. Hera realizes that, though he returned from his self-imposed exile several days ago and lost his sight six months ago, she hasn’t seen him without some sort of blindfold or mask covering his eyes since the incident. His face is twisted into an agonized expression.

Hera runs to his side. “Kanan,” she tries to call him from whatever world of horrors he’s trapped in. “Kanan, wake up!”

The Jedi’s whole body immediately responds to her voice, turning towards her and stilling slightly. Kanan’s always told her that he loves the sound of her voice. So she keeps talking.

“Don’t worry, everything’s fine.”

Kanan’s face twists again, and he seems to look around searchingly, though his eyes are still closed. His body is shaking, his fear palpable.

“It’s me, Kanan, I’m right beside you; you’re safe.”

His eyes fly open.

Kanan’s eyes, eyes that Hera could have stared into forever (though she had usually done her best not to think about that), eyes full of beautiful, vibrant aquamarine, are now pale and colorless.

Hera scolds herself for the lump in her throat that forms. It doesn’t matter. This shouldn’t upset me. Am I really that shallow?

She shakes off the sudden wave of sorrow and focuses on Kanan.

“Hera?” he calls for her, still searching. His face fills with panic again. “Where are you?”

“Look at me—“

Hera stops short.

That was how she had always drawn him from his nightmares before. Look at me, she’d tell him. I’m here. She’d turned the light on for this exact purpose when she’d entered, forgetting for a moment that everything had changed.

She’ll have to get creative this time.

“I can’t!” Kanan cried. “I can’t anymore, Hera, it’s gone—“

“I know, I know—“

“You’re so far away,” his voice breaks as he speaks.

Hera moves closer. “No. I’m right here, Kanan.”

“No,” he says miserably. “You’re gone—you left me—everyone left me—I’m useless, I’m broken, no one needs me anymore—it’s too late—“

His voice, full of anguish, breaks again and his body shakes with tears that he is no longer able to shed. Hera forgets that he broke her heart, that he left them all, that the deepening relationship between them had suddenly become nonexistent. The man she loves is hurting, and she’s going to fix that. Or, at least, help him through it.

She goes back to the door, turning off the lights so she’s forced to see how he sees. Then she climbs into the bunk beside him.

His body is racked with sobs as she places a hand on his cheek. He gasps at her touch.

“Kanan,” she says in her most soothing, reassuring tone—the one that has never failed to calm him before—“do you feel me?”

“Hera,” he whispers, filled with relief, and sounding…awestruck, for some reason.

“It’s me,” she tells him comfortingly, emphasizing her next words. “I never left you, and I never will.”

Kanan begins to mumble her name, one of his hands finding its way on top of hers, the other holding onto her forearm for dear life. The way he says her name always makes her heart race, though she’s never really understood why. No one else pronounces it like that…the way he speaks out the two syllables somehow sounds and feels like a caress. He begins to speak hastily; desperately.

“I can still fight for the Rebellion—I have the Force, it’ll help me see—I’m not truly blind because I can see myself.”

“I believe you, Kanan,” Hera presses her forehead against his. “You’re not useless. We’re never giving up on you.”

Kanan feels her arm, touches her shoulders, his hands seeming to be on a mission to make sure she’s really there. When they near her lekku, Hera moves them away. He’s touched them before, with her permission. That first time he did was the best nights she’d ever had…and so was every other night he’d done it again. Now that he’s been gone for so long, and he clearly doesn’t want her…

Focus on your mission. He needs you—right here; right now.

Hera slips out of her thoughts and feels Kanan place his hand on the side of her face for a moment, then take her in his arms and hold her close. He presses his forehead to hers. Their closeness makes Hera’s heart attempt to catch up to Kanan’s pounding one.

Slowly, his body relaxes. His heavy breathing evens.

Hera relaxes, too. More than she has in six months.

She hasn’t let herself realize how much she’s missed the complete safety she always feels in his arms. She lets him hold her, tucking her head underneath his. Kanan makes a noise of discomfort, and she smiles softly, placing her forehead against his again. This has always been the position they’ve used when comforting each other. Kanan sighs contentedly.

Eventually, he stirs, and she knows he’s emerged from the nightmare.

“Hey,” Kanan greets her, the panic gone from his voice, gentleness and awkwardness taking its place.

There has never been awkwardness between them. Not like this.

Hera lifts her head from his. “Better now?” she asks him.

He shudders. “That’s an understatement.”

Hera strokes his cheek in reply. The last six months had seemed to fade into oblivion during the last few minutes, but now she feels the shards of pain return.

Will he ask me to leave?

“Hera…” he says her name for the thousandth time that night. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” she responds quietly.

They don’t move from their positions.

After a moment, he continues tentatively. “You don’t have to stay.”

Hera can still feel the remains of her anger towards him from several days before cutting into her, but the image of his tortured face and voice from earlier are seared into her mind.

“Do you want me to leave?” she asks gently.

His arms involuntarily tighten around her.

She laughs softly in spite of it all. Though her hurt and anger is returning, she’s delighted that he wants her beside him.

“I’m staying.”

Hera realizes that he’s been holding his breath when he resumes breathing again. His pulse speeds up, though it isn’t pounding frantically like it was earlier.

The night he’d come back, they’d had their worst fight to date. Once they were alone in his room, she’d tried—Kanan would chastise her for using that word—to hold her emotions back, to be understanding, but her hurt had led to anger, and it had burst out of her, as it often did. Words had spilled out of her, words she’d bottled up inside her for the last six months. She’d said things she knew she’d regret, things that she could see cutting through him. But her own pain had blinded her in that moment. She’d kept going for those six months, never stopping long enough to deal with her hurt, so it had only festered. Kanan had been defensive, stony-faced, his arms crossed, and that had only enraged her further.

Then, today, after several days of avoiding each other, Maul had attacked the Ghost. Throughout the experience, Hera’s lekku had burned with the knowledge that her last interaction with Kanan, besides a short phrase here and there, had been full of biting words and simmering hurt.

She’d spent the hours after Kanan had rescued her and the others contemplating out what to say and how to apologize. She’d been in the middle of doing so when the wrench of terror sent her straight to his room.

The fight had ended with her snapping, “Don’t pretend you still want me. You proved that that wasn’t true when you abandoned me—abandoned us for half a year.” Her voice had broken against her will. “You didn’t even say you were leaving. Or when you’d be back.” Then she’d slammed on the button to close her door in his face, blinking furiously to hide the scorching tears in her eyes. Hera had slid down the wall, then spent the rest of that night finally letting the tears she’d held back spill out of her.

“You…you want to stay?” Kanan now asks her uncertainly. “Everything you said several nights ago—it all makes sense, and I’m so sorry.” His earnestness and guilt rolls off of him as he continues. “I understand if you don’t forgive me; I know I hurt you—I was gone for so long—“

Hera interrupts softly. “I forgive you.”

He stops his uncomfortable, awkward squirming.

“You do?”

His tone is so full of uncertainty and hope that Hera’s heart melts.

“I do,” she tells him gently. “For everything.”

Kanan begins to protest, torture and regret emanating from his voice, even as Hera can feel some of the tension begin to drain out of him. “No, Hera, you shouldn’t forgive me so easily. I don’t deserve that. After all these years, I just left. The way I made you feel…” Kanan’s voice wavers before he continues. “I thought that the Force was telling me to spend time alone—that was my excuse. But I distanced myself from the Force, from you, from everyone—and I don’t even know why.” He shakes his head, incredulous at himself, then desperately starts to explain. “I couldn’t handle any responsibilities or obligations. My feelings took over—I thought I was useless, that I was a failure because of my blindness—my depression overwhelmed me. I was lost—lost again, like I was when you found me on Gorse.” Kanan’s still holding her, but his embrace feels almost fragile, like he’s afraid that she’ll rip herself away from him at any second. “I thought I had grown since then, that it would never happen again. It wasn’t just that I lost my vision—it was that Ahsoka is gone, that we lost against that Sith Lord—” Kanan heaves a sigh, one heavy with self-hatred. “And now I’m making it about me again.”

Hera listens intently. He’s clearly been carrying this within him for too long. “It’s all right,” she reassures him quietly. “Talk to me.”

“I never stopped wanting you,” he says in a rough voice, one filled with sincerity and raw emotion, and Hera’s broken heart skips a beat. “And I know that that doesn’t seem true, because I still stayed away.” He’s quiet for a moment. Hera can practically hear the gears in his mind turning as he works to verbalize and explain. “I couldn’t face you. Not when I felt so lacking, and you’re so…so capable, so impactful, so successful.“

Hera nearly protests at this, but she stays silent for his sake, knowing that her interruption won’t be helpful to him right now.

“I was ashamed. Ashamed of my weakness. Ashamed that I didn’t sense Maul coming, that I didn’t stop him somehow. And…I couldn’t face the pain of not being able to see you. I didn’t want to hold you back or burden you, or make you feel like you had to let me tag along on missions. I thought that you were better off without me in your way.”

Hera’s heart is reeling and rejoicing at the fact that she is still wanted, that he never really rejected her, but she also knows that he’ll only keep spiraling downward if she doesn’t interject at the right time—which is now.

“You don’t have to explain it all to me,” she tells him sincerely, though the still-angry side of her screams that that isn’t true.

“I’m just trying—I just want you to know that…that I still love you, Hera.”

The earnestness in his voice and the admission of “I love you” does it. Hera can feel her shattered, rejected heart begin to heal. What he says next only soothes it further.

“The depression drowned everything out—but sometimes I would hear your voice, or see your face in my mind, and that kept me from losing all hope. From giving up on everything.”

Hera’s heart swells, and tears spring up in her own fully whole eyes. She places her forehead against his again. His breath catches, but he finishes speaking. “I understand if you don’t feel the same way. I don’t know why you would, after how much I hurt you. I…I can tell you’re heartbroken, Hera.” His body starts shaking again, as if he’s living inside of another nightmare. “And knowing I did that to you—just because all I could think about was myself and what I needed, rather than what you and the rest of the crew needed—“ Hera can feel the unshed tears again as he begins to apologize, again and again, until he loses the ability to speak. She gently cradles his head, stroking his disheveled hair, her own healing heart throbbing at his anguish. She brushes her thumbs over where the tears would be, if everything were different.

“I’m too full of mistakes,” he sobs. “You deserve much better than someone like me.”

Hera decides that now she’s on a mission—a mission to stop her Jedi’s spiral of self-hatred.

“Listen to me, Kanan Jarrus,” she tells him in a firm but kind tone, as she continues to stroke his hair. “You’re no worse than anyone else. We all make mistakes. We’re all selfish at times. Even those of us who devote our lives to helping others sometimes hurt them instead. Caring about someone means helping them move on from their mistakes and make it right. What kind of people would we be if we never gave others a second chance?”

His dry shaking begins to stop, and Hera can feel him listening in rapt attention.

“You know I don’t give up—and I never gave up on you. I never will. Yes, you’ve hurt me, but I care enough about you to forgive you. Who you are right now is worth forgiving. You’re worthy of forgiveness, of my choosing you, even though you aren’t perfect.” Hera’s words seem to hit hard, since Kanan’s breath catches again. She continues genuinely and tenderly, “Even if I met the most perfect person in the galaxy, I’d still choose you instead. You’re truly good, Kanan.”

After a moment of silence, Kanan whispers, “You really mean that?”

Hera lifts his face and presses a kiss to his forehead. “Of course I do. And I really do forgive you. If you’ll forgive me for hurting you instead of listening to you over the last few days.” Now her own voice is colored with remorse. “I should have been there for you, helping you readjust.”

“But, Hera, I understand why you were angry. I deserved it.”

“That doesn’t make it right,” Hera points out. “Will you forgive me?”

Immediately, he replies, “Yeah. I forgive you.”

Then his hands move for the first time since his nightmare. He places one on her cheek, while the other moves to the small of her back. Hera’s heart begins to pick up speed as his face nears hers. “Is it all right if I…?” he asks in a whisper, ever respectful of her boundaries. In answer, Hera moves her own face closer to his, and their lips meet.

Six months is a long time.

But the longer you’re deprived of something, the sweeter it is when you finally get to experience it again.

The first thing Hera feels is the warmth. It spreads throughout her whole body, especially her lekku, chasing away the emptiness and loneliness that became the new normal in Kanan’s absence. One of his hands caresses her cheek, while the other pulls her close, resting on the small of her back. She pulls the band from his now-destroyed ponytail, slipping it expertly onto her wrist (she’s had plenty of practice) and threading her fingers into his hair. She can feel him smile into her lips when she does so, which makes her smile in return. Kanan seems to get a burst of excitement, a delighted gasp escaping him. Hera pulls away just enough to ask, “what is it?”

He responds, his voice charged with enthusiasm and love,

“I got to feel you smile again.”

A wave of emotion sweeps over Hera, her heart squeezing at the overwhelming amount of sweetness infused into that small sentence. She presses her lips to his again, beaming just for him. Kanan laughs giddily, a sound of pure joy.

Hera hasn’t heard him laugh in so long.

So she can’t help but laugh with him. A moment later, his thumb begins stroking her cheek more urgently. She gently breaks the kiss to ask, “What is it, love?”She can feel his giddiness rise at the term of endearment, which makes her beam again. He murmurs in a voice filled to the brim with gratitude, “Thank you, Hera. For forgiving me. I thought that I’d lost this. I thought that I’d messed up too badly to ever earn your affection again.” Misery seems to overwhelm him at the thought.

“There’s no need to earn it,” she assures him, placing her other hand, the one not entwined in his hair, on his chest. “Honestly, I couldn’t take it from you if I tried,” she confesses.

“Are you saying that you’re hopeless, Hera Syndulla?” The cocky slyness, which had made up the Kanan Jarrus that she first met all those years ago on Gorse, fills his voice.

She rolls her eyes, then remembers that the lights are out, and that he can’t see her anyway. And yet—

“You just rolled your eyes, didn’t you?”

“You earned it,” she deadpans.

He laughs again and somehow pulls her closer, so that their foreheads are touching again.

“There’s the Hera I remember,” he declares, tenderness and the classic mischievousness returning.

She showcases her own mischievous streak in her reply. “Missed me, love?”

“Every second,” he answers tenderly.

“I missed you, too,” she tells him, warmth filling her tone and her soul.

That sly mischievousness again. “Especially my sense of humor, right?”

“Actually, that’s what I missed the least,” she switches back into deadpanning.

“Hey!” he protests, his tone a convincing one of feigned offense, but then it makes way for the trademark slyness. “But you did miss it.”

Hera groans. “That is not what I said.”

“You’re not denying it,” Kanan teases.

After a moment, he declares, “I’ve finally found the one benefit that comes with being blind.”

“What’s that?” she asks, resigning herself to whatever nonsense he’s about to spill.

She can hear the grin in his voice. “Now I can’t see it when you glare at me.”

Hera rolls her eyes, then says in a playful tone, “But you can feel my anger in the Force, right?”

Kanan’s silent for a moment. “It’s impossible not to.” He shudders, mortified at the thought of it.

“Kanan Jarrus, you’re a Jedi Knight and a veteran of the Clone Wars, and you’re afraid of me?”

He lets out a huff of laughter, like the answer is obvious. “You bet.”

Hera’s voice is devious. “You should be.”

“Everybody should be. You’re terrifying, Hera.”

She chuckles, shaking her head slightly, her forehead still pressed to his. “You’re exaggerating.”

“Come on, I never exaggerate.”

After a moment of silence on Hera’s part, he amends reluctantly, “okay, I usually don’t exaggerate. You’ve seen how the kids and I look at you when you’re furious with us.”

Hera considers this. She always knows that when she gives members of her crew that glare, they’ll do whatever she says. Usually. “Maybe I should use it on whoever’s trying to attack us sometime.”

“You should. Just to see what would happen.”

She laughs. “I don’t even need a blaster. No armor can protect those stormtroopers from my death glare.”

“You better believe it,” Kanan murmurs, stroking the small of her back.

“I sure am glad you’re not angry with me anymore,” he adds after a bit of comfortable silence.

“Me too, love.”

Chills ripple over him at the term of endearment, and she chuckles lightly, a bubble of joy rising inside of her at how much he treasures her little ways of showing him how much she loves him.

Hera has no clue how long they stay like this, stealing kisses, sharing little touches, slipping in and out of conversation (complete with plenty of smiles and eyerolls). What she does know is that the distance between her and Kanan has disappeared. The emptiness and feelings of being incomplete have been replaced by fullness and completeness. No, they aren’t as close as they were before Malachor, but Hera has faith that that will change over time. What matters most is that she knows that Kanan is happier than he’s been in a long time. Eventually, they drift off into sleep, still holding each other close. Their dreams are peaceful, for there’s no room for nightmares when nothing but long-awaited contentment fills them both to overflowing.

When morning comes, the members of the Ghost Crew don’t need to be able to sense each others’ emotions to know that things have finally changed for the better.

The family is whole again.

[tulipwritings]

Let you see the heart that's inside ✧ I

Pairing: The Darkling / Aleksander Morozova x Reader (Sun Summoner)

Trope: Enemies to lovers.

Warnings: Mention of sexual assault.

(Gif's not mine)

You wrapped your kefta closely around you as you stumbled through the hallway of the Little Palace. You felt like crying but the numbness of not fully grasping what just had happened stopped you from sobbing and screaming.

You had liked Pyotr. He was your closest and only friend ever since you arrived at the Little Palace after the Darkling found you — his Sun Summoner. Your stay turned out to be a tough time, barely finding friends since most of the other Grisha held grudges against you, envying the Sun Summoner who the Darkling was so keen on, even though behind the closed doors of the war room, the both of you kept fighting, divided by disagreement on how to act regarding the Shadow Fold. He wanted to use it as a weapon which you highly disagreed with. Once the Darkling realized your stubborness and that he couldn’t simply wrap you around his finger, his behaviour changed towards you, being distant and not hiding the fact how annoyed he was in your presence. Probably the only reason for him to not simply get rid of you was that he needed a Sun Summoner and you were the only one around. Oh, how you'd love to make room for those other Grisha, there was nothing to envy about bearing the bad-tempered Darkling.

You've been on your own your whole life, the loneliness had been such a familiar feeling that it didn’t feel lonely anymore at some point. Until you met Pyotr and you got used to him being around. But now you felt sick to your stomach only thinking about him, his stupid face and red kefta. When you visited him in his room this evening so you could go to the great hall together where dinner is served, he grabbed you by your wrists, starting to kiss your neck and once you tried to push him away, he slowed down your heart rate, making you defenseless. Now, stepping through the hallway trying to get to your room as quick as possible, you could still feel his hands on your body and hear the echo of his words over and over again. "Come on, (Y/N). You've been so sweet and kind, you showed me that you want me for quite some time now..." His powers of a Heartrender stopped you from objecting, all you could do was watching him touch and kiss you.

"Dinner is that way" a cold and yet soft voice said. The Darkling seemed to have a good day, at least that's what the rare softness in his voice gave away.

"I'm not hungry, get out of my face" you spat, not looking at him as you tried to pass him, but his hand shot forward, grabbing your wrist and pulling you backwards until his body blocked your way.

"I beg your pardon?" The softness in his voice was gone, there was a dangerous edge to it now. His touch made you panic and all of a sudden the numbness lost its fight against the tears, making you sob right in front of him, which made all of it even worse, since the least you wanted was showing weakness in front of the Darkling, who'd use it against you as soon as it was of use. "Let go of me! I'll never be kind again!", you shouted, knowing your words must sound ridiculous without any context, before your voice broke and your tears stopped you from saying anything else. The Darkling let go of you without even blinking. He was slightly startled, almost sorry once he noticed your shattered reaction.

"(Y/N)... wha- what happened?" he asked troubled, raising his hand for a second, wanting to touch your back to comfort you until he realized his touch had made you panic just seconds ago. He bowed forward, his face only inches apart from yours, as his raven eyes locked with yours. "Tell me."

He waited patiently until you gathered enough strength to gulp back your sobs, shakingly speaking up about what happened. Once he heard what Pyotr had done he stiffened, clenching his jaw and protectively looking up and down the hallway, checking if there was any sight of the Heartrender.

"Go to your room and take a bath.", he ordered, "I'll check in on you later."

✧・✧・✧・✧

You were sitting in your nightgown on your bed, your hair still damp as you heard a soft knock on your door.

"Come in..." Your voice was barely a hoarse. You had took a hot bath, eagerly soaping your body and hoping to wash off the feeling of Pyotr's hands on your skin. It's been hopeless — you felt used, dirty even. If you could, you'd shed your skin, leaving the unsolicited touch behind.

The Darkling stepped in, a tray in his hand that he placed in front of you. "I want you to eat something, (Y/N)."

You sighed, thinking about food made you feel like throwing up already.

"I'll leave the Little Palace tomorrow, I can't stand to see him again." And you couldn’t stand the thought of your only friend betraying you, the thought of fighting with the Darkling when there was no one around to rant about his self-centered, greedy behaviour, the thought of being among other Grisha and still being all alone. You had lost your only friend — if he had ever been a friend. You felt empty and lost. Unlovable, worthless. As if Pyotr had stolen your value.

"You won't leave the Little Palace..."

"So, I'm a captive now?" you snapped.

The Darkling took a deep breath. You could sense that he was annoyed with you interrupting him, but for once he was patient and remained soft instead of threatening you as he did the countless times you were arguing in the war room.

"You’re not held captive, Pyotr is." he stated, now sitting down on the edge of your bed, still giving you space and respecting your boundaries.

Your eyes went wide. "You... you believe me?"

"Are you fucking with me?!" There he was — the annoyed Darkling, angry with something you said. This time you couldn’t be mad at him, his reaction felt nearly soothing.

"I want Grisha to be safe." he went on. "The Little Palace is supposed to be a safe place for Grisha, I won't tolerate any kind of violence that isn't at my command. Speaking of...", he frowned, "I don't want you to have breakfast with the others tomorrow. You'll eat in your room, I'll have servants take care of it." He got up from your mattress, but stopped as soon as he reached your door. "And (Y/N)... don’t let the cruelty of others take away your kindness. It can be strength too." He left before you had a chance to ask any further questions.

Once he had closed the door, he left you behind with the unknown feeling of wanting him to come back. You hated how commanding he was. Yet, it was the first time you wondered who he was besides the leader of the Second Army that you couldn’t stand. You wondered if there was a side of him you might actually like.

Once he had closed the door leaving you behind, a pool of shadows surrounded him. Now that he was on his own again he stopped suppressing his rage about somebody touching you and the waves of darkness were its outcome. Nobody would harm you ever again.

═════════════════════

This is my first attempt of publishing my stories, I hope you like it. I'd be really happy about some feedback. ♡

═════════════════════

[five-rivers]

Okay no but Vlad just trying to womb Danny before Clockwork does, not bothering to explain one goddamn thing to the poor lad. Just a one-shot. Danny escapes and flies off at the end. Clockwork in his tower laughs/chuckles at Vlad's attempt. How would that go. What would the attempt even look like

If Danny were to make a list of his least favorite places to be, all iterations of 'Vlad's house' would rate somewhere below lovely vacation spots like the River of Revulsion, the Consuming Maw, and Hell. Despite this, he wound up at one or another of Vlad's residences with some frequency.

But he'd never been to Vlad's lair. He very much did not want to break his streak of 'not being in Vlad's lair,' because as bad as being in all of Vlad's other houses was, a ghost's lair moved according to its owner's will.

Which is why his current predicament (hit with the Plasmius Maximus and in one of Skulker's nets) was so disturbing.

"Uh, Skulker, when you said lair you meant his stupidly oversized castle mansion thing in Wisconsin, right?"

"Didn't you blow that up?"

"Oh. Well, yeah, but he rebuilt." Danny subtly began picking at the knots tying the net together.

"And then you blew it up again."

"Okay, I can see how you'd think that, but the second time wasn't me. It was the government."

"Right. Sure." If Skulker had recognizable irises pupils, Danny was sure they'd be rolling.

"No, really. But I'm sure I could blow up his actual lair, too, you know? So, I'm not sure why he'd want me there. Actually, I'm not sure why you're taking me there instead of, you know, skinning me yourself."

"Something I've been asking myself since you woke up and started talking."

"Always such a kidder. But seriously."

"Well, you see, I like having an independent existence," said Skulker, "and that takes money and resources. Besides, I can always hunt you again after this. You'll be even more of a challenge!"

"Why will I be more of a challenge in Vlad's stupid lair? You know he's just going to try and clone and replace me again."

Skulker snorted.

"How do you even do that in a robot suit?"

"That's for me to know and you to never find out."

They came to a stop in front of a purple door decorated with elaborate gold inlay.

"Ugh, he's so pretentious," complained Danny, covering up the fact that his heart was currently beating out of his chest.

Skulker knocked on the door, which immediately flew open, revealing Vlad as Plasmius.

"Wow, were you waiting for us at the door? Needy much?"

Vlad looked down his nose at Danny. "I don't expect you to understand, Daniel. Yet."

"Do you practice being ominous in the mirror? I think you'd benefit from improv classes. More feedback from real people. I'd say get it from your friends but- Ow!" Danny yelped as Vlad hit him with a miniature ectoblast.

"You'll receive your payment in the usual way," said Vlad, blandly.

"Great," said Skulker. "Have fun, whelp."

Danny struggled reflexively as Skulker handed the net over. It didn't do any good. The door to Vlad's lair shut with a definitive thud.

"Whatever you're planning," said Danny, "you aren't going to get away with it."

"I daresay I already have, son."

"I'm not your son, fruitloop," hissed Danny. (The Plasmius Maximus might have rendered his ghost half dormant, but that didn't mean it was gone, or that he didn't retain behaviors learned from it in all forms.)

"Hm," said Vlad. He touched the back of Danny's neck through the net, then traced over his skin to the edge of his jaw, which he forced up so Danny had to twist uncomfortably, his hair catching in the net.

Danny scratched at the hand, but of course Vlad was, as always, wearing those thick gloves, and Danny's fingernails were currently very human and blunt.

"You're a feral little thing, aren't you?" He pushed Danny's neck into a position that was actively painful without the benefit of ghostly flexibility. "Not for long, though, I should think."

Without another word, he strode off into the depths of his lair.

Vlad's lair was much like his mortal residences. Vampire meets football fan meets dramatic gothic romance that missed the point. If Danny had access to his ghost half, he suspected he'd be able to feel Vlad's ectosignature permeating the ectoplasm in the air to an oppressive degree.

As it was, the heat was bad enough. His body had long since offloaded the task of cooling to his ghost half, and was having some trouble remembering how to act.

"Here we are," said Vlad, stopping in front of an especially fancy door. He opened it, and threw Danny in, then closed the door without entering.

Danny, a bit confused by this turn of events, took stock of his surroundings. The door had smoothed out into a tapestry-covered wall. The room was lit only by ectoplasmic glow and felt oddly... soft. All surfaces were upholstered with ornate, green and gold embroidered cloth. There were many pillows, but no hard furniture.

Also, the ectoplasm in the air was so thick it almost felt like Danny was underwater and so charged with energy his hair was standing on end. Even with his ghost half thoroughly zapped by the Plasmius Maximus, it was making Danny feel a little tipsy. If his ghost half had been active at all, he would have been blissed out and essentially immobile as he involuntarily gorged himself.

He shuddered at the thought. The energy here was probably very Vlad, not to mention putting Danny into that state was probably Vlad's plan.

Which, Danny decided, was the most disturbing part of all of this. Small doses of energized ectoplasm acted like side-effect free energy drinks for Danny. Sufficiently large doses, or prolonged exposure to high-energy ectoplasm, however, acted like a euphoric and a depressant for reasons Danny didn't understand. Since this didn't seem to be the case for any other ghosts he'd encountered, Danny had chosen to keep it quiet.

This meant that either Vlad had the same problem, and it was a halfa thing (no evidence, plus, if that was the case he'd have a hard time getting Danny out of here... assuming he'd eventually want to do that), or he'd been putting spy cams in Fentonworks again (historical precedent).

Either way, it meant that Danny had a time limit. Once the Plasmius Maximus wore off, it was limp noodle time for Danny.

He squirmed until he found the tied-shut opening of the net. As opposed to the structural knots, this would probably be easier to deal with.

... of course Skulker was also good at tying knots, darn it.

Eventually, with slightly raw fingertips, Danny crawled out of the net. Now what? The room had no doors.

If he had been in the larger Ghost Zone, he could walk through walls as a human with little effort, convincing unattached structures to go intangible around him through force of will. Even Walker's Prison, that he claimed and maintained, could be cajoled.

Lairs were different. Lairs were tied to the wills of their ghosts. Unless the power levels of the ghost in question was vastly beneath your own, attempting to fight a ghost in their lair was futile.

Getting this room to let him out would be hard.

But maybe not impossible.

Thing was, lairs were tied to their ghosts' wills. Not their brains.

(And Vlad wasn't the brightest guy to begin with.)

Danny put on his 'acting' face. "Wow, I sure love unkie Vwad~"

.

After several long, excruciatingly embarrassing minutes of monologuing about how awesome Vlad was and how cool it would be if he let him out, Danny was able to push through the wall into the corridor outside.

Embarrassing for Vlad, that is. Even having done it on purpose, Danny was still rather surprised that Vlad fell for it.

Okay. Now, all he had to do was find the door out, and assuming that Vlad's lair wasn't one that shuffled itself internally all the time...

There!

It wasn't even locked.

He dove through the door and out into the Ghost Zone, not caring that he couldn't fly in human form. Falling was fine. It was fast. There wasn't anything for him to hit.

Well...

He was inching closer to terminal velocity now.

It was mostly fine.

How long ago had he been hit by the Plasmius Maximus?

.

Far away in a very different lair, Clockwork smiled fondly at Daniel's antics. Plasmius, Plasmius, Plasmius. Didn't he know that he'd never get anywhere like that?

Clockwork set his chin on his fist as he watched Daniel fall and gently nudged various real world debris out of his path. He had a room like that in his lair as well, infinitely more suitable, waiting for Daniel. Waiting for the right time.

And, as Master of Time, Clockwork was sure it would come soon.

[othermainblog]

A (Not So) Quiet Morning

A/N: This really is the first fanfic I’ve written in years huh. I was feeling inspired because I desperately want more fluffy content between Kaeya and Crepus so I guess I’m making my own food at this point. Featuring some of my personal headcanons, see the bottom for more if you’re interested. Enjoy!

On a clear and pleasantly cool midmorning, while working on his newest painting in the study, Crepus Ragnvindr finds himself struck by an impulse.

It is a peaceful morning. Diluc has decided to visit Jean across the city, bringing that tortoise of his with him to go and visit hers. The servants have busied themselves elsewhere to give him the quiet atmosphere he desires while painting. And Kaeya, in an unprecedented move, has sought his company over Diluc’s.

Crepus is not ignorant to the importance of this moment. He is hyperaware of Kaeya’s presence in the room with him, where the boy has chosen a couch with a very tempting sunbeam on which to curl up with a book. Admittedly, it is wreaking havoc on his ability to concentrate on the scene he intends to paint, but there is no bitterness to accompany that fact.

Because Kaeya rarely seeks out Crepus’ company on his own, more often tagging along with Diluc when his brother seeks his attention. Crepus has worried that this indicates a lack of trust in him, but he has been unsure on how to address the problem.

Today, that doesn’t seem to be an issue in the least.

Again, as it has done countless times this morning, Crepus finds his eyes sliding over to observe his newest son without his conscious desire. He finds himself wondering what is happening in Kaeya’s book; whatever the narrative turn, it must be one that Kaeya is enjoying, because when Crepus looks his way, he sees a subdued smile on his son’s face.

He can feel his own mouth curling in response — a reaction he is quite familiar with from his years spent raising Diluc. In this moment, despite his many regrets, Crepus Ragnvindr feels like the most fortunate man in Teyvat.

The sudden lack of sound must be more obvious than he realized, though. As Kaeya moves to turn to the next page, he glances up at Crepus. Something about his expression must startle Kaeya, because his eye goes wide, the smile becoming uncertain and small.

That won’t do at all, thinks Crepus.

Giving Kaeya as kind a smile as he can muster, Crepus heaves himself to his feet, taking a moment to wipe his hands on the damp cloth one of the servants has had the foresight to bring to the study before making themself scarce. Then he approaches the couch.

“May I sit with you, Kaeya?”

Kaeya looks a bit bemused at this point, but nods and lowers his book to his lap, marking his place with one thumb.

Crepus lowers himself carefully to sit next to Kaeya, rather on the other end like Kaeya undoubtedly expected him to. He keeps an eye on the other’s reaction — curious but not alarmed. Excellent.

Crepus settles, and then deliberately turns so that Kaeya has his full attention. He smiles. “That looks like a good book.”

Kaeya tilts his head a bit, then flips the book to show Crepus the cover. Clearly he has no concept of where this is going, but he seems willing to play along and find out. Crepus again is humbled by the trust in him that that shows.

“Ah, that is a good one. One of my favorites, when I was about your age. I remember how determined I was to finish it, the first time. More than that, I remember how tired I was the next day, after I stayed awake all night to finish it. I actually fell asleep during lessons! My tutors were not pleased. My hand still aches to this day, they made me write so many lines.” Crepus grins and playfully shakes his hand out for emphasis.

A shy little smile is his reward, hesitantly amused by this anecdote. It is, however, much too quick to fade away again.

It is as he is processing the disappointment of this that the impulse strikes. It is one he is not wholly unfamiliar with, being a father for a good many years now, but one that has until now only reared its mischievous head around Diluc.

Crepus has kept a certain small distance between himself and Kaeya in the time he has spent with him, not through his own desires, but out of fear of frightening the boy. Not to say that he has been able to to completely suppress the desire to tease Kaeya entirely; he considers it his divinely gifted right to do so as a parent. And so far, Kaeya has seemed surprised to be included, but not unhappily so. Crepus does not think it is wishful thinking to say that Kaeya has come to trust Crepus, not with today’s request to spend the morning with him instead of his best friend.

It is this last thought that decides it. Crepus allows that spirit of mischief to posses him fully.

“Come now. That won’t do, Kaeya.” Crepus injects some transparently false gravitas to his voice, to signal the game. He would never want his sons to seriously think he was disappointed in them for even a moment.

The ploy works. Kaeya sits up straighter, open curiosity on his face. He studies Crepus for a moment before coming to a decision and twisting his upper body to place the book on the side table. Then he turns back to look up at Crepus, hands relaxed on the knees of his crossed legs. Open body language, an acceptance of Crepus’ playful invitation.

Crepus feels his falsely somber expression melt at the edges. A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, and he gives up the pretext.

“That wasn’t nearly enough. I think I need to see a bigger smile than that.”

Kaeya blinks as Crepus leans closer, lifting his hands with deliberate slowness, making it clear that he will stop if Kaeya wants him to. Kaeya does not stop him, and Crepus’ grin only widens.

“Fortunately, I have a good idea of what to do to fix this.” And Crepus proves the idea a good one indeed, as his fingers gently press into his son’s sides and wiggle.

The reaction is immediate: a jump, a surprised intake of breath, and two small hands placing themselves on his own. Crepus pauses, seeing if Kaeya will signal for him to stop, and feels warm as the signal doesn’t come. Kaeya’s hands do not push his away, and his nervous look is tinged with a playful excitement — an expression universally familiar to parents, he is sure. Crepus grins and attacks in earnest.

His hands move upwards, digging gently into ribs that are still a bit too prominent for Crepus’ tastes, and is rewarded with an exhale that shudders as it catches on a laugh. Kaeya squirms, curling away, mouth wavering into a smile, still not pushing Crepus’ hands away, and Crepus is so very fond of this boy.

It is the work of seconds to turn that exhale into a proper laugh, and Crepus is delighted to learn that his youngest son is, as it turns out, a giggler.

“Maha-! Ahaha! Master Crehehep-!” Kaeya wriggles into the arm of the couch, curling up and kicking his legs and not managing to get even one finger off of his ribs on his own.

Well, Crepus can certainly help him with that, at least.

Those fingers creep further up, worming their way under his arms to look for more giggles.

Kaeya squeaks, squeezing his arms to his sides as hard as he can and slipping against the arm of the couch until he is nearly on his back, legs coming up to again kick at nothing. It is a perfect opportunity to change targets, and one that Crepus has no problem taking advantage of. While one hand stays put, the other reaches to snag one little knee.

The reaction is a bit startling. Kaeya yelps and then bursts into the kind of laughter that can only be described as hysterical. For the first time, he manages to land a hit with the other foot, though without much force. Crepus pauses, startled, and when he looks at Kaeya he sees his son is just as surprised himself. Kaeya stares at him for a moment, eye wide, before giving a cutely nervous smile and shrinking down further into the couch.

After waiting for a signal that doesn’t come, Crepus smiles at the silent permission and slides his hand down to wrap around his calf. Holding his leg still, he brings the other hand, not back to the kneecap, as Kaeya undoubtedly expected, but behind the knee.

Evidently, this is spot is a winner as well, because Kaeya jerks and wheezes on his laughter, squirming and, after only a moment of this, letting out a snort.

Crepus can’t help but laugh at the way Kaeya freezes and slaps a hand over his mouth to contain any more, before another burst of laughter gets the better of him and he removes it to suck in more air.

Of course, all good things must come to an end, and Crepus would rather it end before it becomes unpleasant in truth. So he stops the gentle flutter under his son’s knee and releases his leg, watching in amusement as he immediately pulls it back to curl up in a little ball as he regains his breath.

Crepus allows him silence as he recovers, and eventually Kaeya gets enough breath back to uncurl and push himself upright again. He eyes his father from this new vantage point before asking.

“What was that for?”

“Ah, I’m afraid I had no other choice,” Crepus tells him solemnly. “It was vitally important that I hear you laugh today, and how else was I to do it? You never laugh at my jokes, after all.”

“Maybe you’re just not good at telling jokes,” Kaeya counters, and then freezes as he realizes his own daring.

Crepus only laughs again, reaching out to stroke displaced strands of blue out of his face. “In that case, it’s a good thing I have you around to practice on. I’ll be sure to improve my material with your valuable feedback.” His heart feels near to bursting at the way Kaeya relaxes and laughs softly again, leaning into the touch.

“I guess so.”

A/N: As with most people, I don’t think Kaeya as an adult and Kaeya as a child were exactly the same. Even putting aside the can of worms that is the whole Khaenri'ahn plant thing, getting adopted by a family in a totally foreign country is a lot for a kid to deal with. I imagine he was a little uncertain about his place at first. Of course, I also headcanon him as a bit of a little shit (but a cute one) so once he felt more settled I’m sure he could get a bit mouthy sometimes too haha.

I also headcanon Kaeya switched off between calling him “Master Crepus” and “Father” but this is set before he tried out “Father” for the first time, he’s working up to it.