#it feels like i m That Word but it is overshadowed by my VERY LOUD CLOWNERY and i CANT TURN IT OFF LKHFKLHGKLJSHG

[wheresarizona]

Learning to Live Part 25

summary: Javier is taking you on a trip to Miami to meet the Murphys, and baby fever hits hard when you see each other interacting with their small children. 

rating: E (18+! No y/n, alternating POV, age gap (about ten years), explicit smut, chair sex, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, anal play (f receiving), kinda double penetration, masturbation (m), sneaking around (you don’t want the Murphys to hear you), baby fever, (MASSIVE) breeding kink, dirty talk, spanking, (1) Papí, spit as lube, traveling, Javier being really cute with children, Javier losing his mind at seeing you with children, Steve giving Javier so much shit, Steve trying to keep you from fucking in the guest room and you two doing it anyway, grumpy Javier, feelings of insecurity/body insecurity (and Javier making you feel better), pregnancy discussion/talks of the future)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

word count: 18.2k+

a/n: Happy Halloween! This is my treat to you for Halloween and the end of Kinktober. I hope you enjoy! This Miami arc is either going to be two or three chapters long. Thank you to the lovely @senorabond for betaing! And also, thank you to @juletheghoul for ensuring my Spanish makes sense! 

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

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Javier’s cell phone only rang for four reasons: his dad was calling, you were calling, it was one of the Murphys; Steve for their regularly scheduled Thursday chat, or Olivia wanting to talk to her tío and sometimes needing help with her Spanish homework. Last, and the phone calls he always ignored outside of business hours, were from his office. 

The first time your boyfriend took a call while he was with you, you’d barely been dating a week. 

While the two of you were cuddling on the couch on a Monday, watching some movie you couldn't even remember the name of because your brain at the time was focusing on getting naked instead of actually watching it, his phone on the coffee table in front of you started ringing. He apologized when he picked it up to check the caller ID and apologized again when he told you he had to answer it since it was his niece and got up from the couch. 

It should’ve been an endearing moment, but your confusion had overshadowed it because you knew he had no siblings. You could admit it was pretty cute overhearing him in the kitchen talking to her in the sweetest voice he clearly saved for children, asking about how her summer was going. 

After he hung up and returned to you, he’d explained: she was his best friend, Steve’s daughter, and he was her godfather, a role he took very seriously by being the best uncle to her and her younger brothers. 

That was many months ago, and with today being Friday and Javi’s phone ringing on his bedside table in your shared bedroom, you had a feeling it was Olivia since he talked to his dad on his way home—the problem, though: your boyfriend was in the shower. 

This seemed like an order-in kind of night, with it being the end of the week and you both wanting to relax. You’d just set the bag of Chinese food on the coffee table when you heard his phone going off. In less than thirty seconds, you had it in hand, the caller ID reading ‘Murphys,’ which was their landline, and confirmed your suspicion. Stepping inside the bathroom, the sounds of water roaring and splashing in the shower stall and the overhead fan humming greeted you; the large mirror over the sink was fogged up, steam permeating the air. 

“Babe?” you said loud enough for him to hear. 

The frosted glass door rolled open enough for Javi to stick out his head, his hair lathered in shampoo. 

“Yeah?” 

“Olivia’s calling.” You held up the ringing phone. 

“Can you answer it and tell her I’ll call her back later?”

Now, Steve and his family were well aware of who you were, and you knew all about them, but you’ve never spoken to any of them. So this request had a nervous flutter erupting in your belly. 

“Yeah,” you answered. “I can do that.” 

A swoon-worthy smile appeared on his face. “Thanks, mi amor (my love).” 

Immediately, you clicked the answer button, putting the phone up to your ear as you said, “Javi’s phone,” before making your way back into the bedroom and shutting the bathroom door behind you. 

“You’re not Javi…” said a deep male voice that had your eyes going wide. 

“You’re not Olivia…” 

There was amusement in his tone, not expecting the smooth southern drawl. “No, I’m not. I’m her father, Steve Murphy, and you must be the woman my best friend is madly in love with.” 

With a smile, you replied, “That’s me,” and introduced yourself.

“It’s nice to finally meet you—well, talk to you, at least. I gotta say I don’t think I’ve ever seen Javi this happy in all the time I’ve known him. You’ve been real good for him, and I’m glad he finally found someone who can put up with his grumpy ass.” 

Warmth spread through your chest, his last comment making you giggle. 

“You wanna know a secret?” you whispered. 

“Yeah?” 

“When he’s with me, he’s not grumpy. He smiles a lot and laughs. He’s really adorable, to be honest.”

“I don’t know if I’d call him adorable, but he’s like that with my kids, too.”

“Oh, Javi with kids is my kryptonite—he’s so good with them.”

“Let me tell you, when I came home to Miami after getting Escobar, he stayed with us for a while, and it shocked me how good he was with Olivia.” That didn’t surprise you. He’d grown up with practically all his cousins being younger than him, and he has a lot of them. “I don’t know if he told you, but not too long after he quit the DEA, he lived with us for a bit ‘cause he was having a hard time being in Laredo—from what I understand, there are some people there who aren’t too kind to him.”

“That’s an understatement, but yes.” 

Javi staying in Miami for a time was something you were aware of. 

Being back in Laredo had been hard for him, like Steve said, and he was known to run from his problems, so he went and lived with the Murphys for almost a year in their guest room. Then, one day, his dad called and told him not to worry, but doctors were running some tests after finding a mass on his liver that could possibly be cancerous. Javier’s mother, Antonia, died from breast cancer that wasn’t caught in time, so when he got off the phone, he packed his bags and was on the first flight home. 

It was the kick in his ass he needed to realize his dad was all he had left and was worth braving his hometown. Chucho’s mass was benign, and Javi annoyed the fuck out of him his first month back by being a mother hen and fussing over him nonstop.

“Well,” Steve continued, “he came and lived with us and was a huge help with Olivia and Stevie. He was a natural with them—they love Javi more than their actual uncles.”

A grin was on your face, loving to hear that he’d done so well helping them with their children. “And he loves them like they’re his biological niece and nephews.”

“He really does.” There was fondness in his tone. “You know, when we were in Colombia, all the guys we worked with thought he was a giant asshole since he didn’t put up with their shit—I was his partner, and I thought he was a giant asshole, but all the women in the office seemed to love him because he was sweet to them. Your man only lightens up for women and children ‘cause I sure as hell did not have a partner who smiled and laughed a lot. Like, I’m looking at this holiday card y’all sent, and I barely recognize him with that big ‘ol grin.”

The holiday cards had been your idea. 

Chucho did the photo shoot, and the picture you both chose had Javi and you in matching outfits of red sweaters and jeans, with him holding you from behind as you both smiled at the camera. Daphne and Velma, the seven-month-old calves you lovingly called your bovine children, were on either side of you wearing fake antlers, all of you in front of the red wooden barn, the bottom of the card reading, ‘Happy holidays from us to you,’ typed in a fancy script. 

It was very cute. 

It delighted you people were finally getting them, now wondering when you’d get that disapproving call from your mother. You knew it was looming on the horizon when your parents finally got theirs. 

“It’s nice, though, right?” You chewed on your lip. 

“Oh, it’s more than nice—it’s fuckin’ great! That man has been to hell and back, and it’s about damn time he finally gets to be happy and relax for once. Which reminds me why I called—were you guys able to get that time off next week?”

The two of you hoped to go to Miami the following week; there were just some issues with you getting days off. 

“Yes! Javi was going to call you tonight. We can do Thursday through Saturday, but we need to be home Sunday for his birthday because we’re celebrating with his dad.”

“That’s fine! We’re just happy you can come! Excuse me, ma’am, Connie just came in the room and has a question for me,” It sounded like Steve covered the phone, hearing his muffled voice say, “Yes, baby, they’re coming… Thursday through Saturday, they need to be home for Javi’s birthday Sunday… It’s not Javi, it’s his girlfriend… She’s great… You know Javi, he doesn’t want a fuc-flipping birthday party… Fine, I’ll ask her.” Now you could hear him clearly. “My apologies, ma’am. My wife wants to know if you’d like us to throw Javi a birthday party?”

“Oh, you guys are already letting us stay with you. I couldn’t ask you to throw a party.”

“Okay.” He spoke to his wife. “She says that’d be too much since they’re staying with us.”

Noise sounded over the line like the phone was being passed, followed by a woman’s voice now speaking, “Hi, is this Javi’s girlfriend?” 

“Yes,” you replied, giving her your name. “Is this Connie?” A baby was babbling in the background, and you thought she might be holding their youngest child. 

“It is! It’s so nice to meet you! I can’t wait for you to visit next week.” 

“I can’t wait either! I’ve heard so much about all of you, and I’m excited.” 

“We’re just as excited! Now, it’d be no problem throwing Javi a little party, and the kids would love to celebrate with him. I mean, they love any excuse to eat cake.” 

Giggling, you replied, “Well, we can’t deny the kids cake. If you insist, I’m sure Javi would be touched by the gesture.”

“Great! We’re going to have such a wonderful time. Javi’s told us how much you love the beach, so we’ll have to spend a day there, and I need to go grocery shopping. Is there anything you want to eat while here?” 

You were hoping to go to the beach, and happy she mentioned it. 

“I can’t think of anything. I’m not picky.”

“If you think of something, just give me a call. We want you to have a great trip.” 

“I know it’s going to be amazing,” you said truthfully. 

“I hope so! Okay, Steve wants the phone back. Nice to meet you, bye!” 

“Nice meeting you, too!”

“It’s me again.” Steve was back on. “Are you guys going to need a ride from the airport?” 

The bathroom door opened, and you looked over your shoulder to see Javi coming out in just a white towel wrapped around his waist, his hair blow-dried and styled. 

“I don’t know…?” you distractedly answered. With you going on the trip soon, you had been refraining from sucking marks into his skin to avoid any awkward conversations with the Murphy kids. Still, there were fading hickies your eyes took in as they moved down his torso to the tantalizing trail of hair that disappeared beneath the cotton. 

With the fan on in the bathroom, he could hear Cielito on the phone; however, he was unable to make out anything she was saying, thinking she might be talking to Robyn or one of his family members. He walked into the room, and she looked over her shoulder at him, his chest puffing out a little at how she was checking him out. 

“Who are you talking to?” he whispered.

Her gaze snapped up to meet his. “Steve,” she answered just as quietly. 

That had him taken aback since he was pretty sure his best friend and wif-girlfriend had never spoken before. Was it Steve who called and not Olivia? Has she been on the phone with him this entire time? 

What were they talking about?

“What does he want?” Javier asked. 

“I’m sorry, Steve,” she said to the other man. “Javi’s here, so give me a sec.” She turned in place to face him, covering the speaker. “He called to find out if we could visit next week—which I told him yes, but he just asked if we’ll need a ride from the airport, and I don’t know the answer.” 

Immediately, he held out his hand. 

She uncovered the phone, talking to his friend again, “Steve, Javi wants to talk to you.” A big smile was on her face. “It was nice talking to you, too… Oh goodness, that’s so sweet… He makes me happy, too. Like super happy.” She shielded her mouth so Javier couldn’t see it, her eyes locked on his, while she whispered in a conspiratorial tone, “Don’t tell him I said this, but he’s an amazing boyfriend and so goddamn dreamy. Literally, the best partner I’ve ever had, and I cannot wait to marry him, so he’s mine forever.” What she said made him smile, and his heart skip a beat. Steve must’ve said something funny because she laughed. “Bye, Steve.” She passed the phone to him. 

“Hey,” Javier said, with the cell phone pressed to his ear. 

“Hey, Jav. Your girlfriend’s great, and we can’t wait to meet her.” 

After his last relationship with Lorraine, and how he missed the red flags and ignored his mother’s warnings about her, having his family love the woman standing in front of him, and now Steve also liking her, it reassured him he was making the right choice for who he was going to marry—not that he had any doubts. Javier knew for a fact she was the one he was spending the rest of his life with. It just made him feel great that others could see how amazing she was. 

“Yeah, she’s fucking incredible.” 

“You’ve got it so bad for her.” Steve chuckled. “I got your holiday card, and I couldn’t believe my fucking eyes—the way you’re smiling, the matching outfits, and the dressed-up cows—” 

“Daphne and Velma,” Javier interrupted. 

The girls behaved well for the photoshoot—with the help of many treats and pets. He loved how the card turned out and was beyond happy Cielito even wanted to do something like that with him. It made him think of the future and the cards featuring the additions of tiny Peñas and seeing their family grow with each holiday season—showing their friends and relatives how their family had grown. Not that he loved the idea of rubbing their happiness in her parents’ faces or anything…

“These are your—what do you call them? Your bovine children?” He’d mentioned the calves on previous calls. 

“Yeah,” he answered. “The red one is Daphne, and the other is Velma.” 

“Okay, I’ll admit they’re pretty cute.” 

“They are. So anyway, we don’t need you to pick us up,” he said, getting back on topic. “I’m gonna rent a car like I always do.” 

“Sounds good.” 

He turned away from his future fiancée as he spoke a little quieter, “Did you say anything embarrassing about me?” 

His question made his best friend laugh, and he frowned. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, Javi. We talked about how great you are with my kids and that you’re only nice to women and children.” 

That didn’t sound too bad. 

He whispered, “How’d she react about me being great with the kids?” 

Steve laughed again. “Positively. A direct quote is, ‘Javi with kids is my kryptonite.’”

Javier smiled. “Good. Tell mis sobrinos (my niece and nephews) I need them to be extra cute when we visit.”

“Will do. Speaking of the kids, Connie needs my help, so I gotta go.” 

“Give them all my love, and I’ll see you next week.” 

“I will. Bye, you asshole.”

“Adiós, pendejo (Goodbye, asshole).” He clicked the end call button, walking over to set the phone back on his bedside table. 

“You’re a dork,” she said. 

Turning toward her, amusement was clear on her face. 

“Why am I a dork?” he asked, taking a few steps to stand in front of her.

“Asking my reaction to how good you are with his kids.” 

His hands went up to cradle her face. “He said I was great with his kids.” 

“Yeah, he did, and he said you were a natural with them.” Her eyes had darkened, her fingers dipping into the top of the towel at his waist as she bit her bottom lip—she was turned on, and it made him smirk, his cock beginning to harden. 

“You like that?” he asked, leaning forward until his mouth was a hair's breadth away from hers, her eyes closing. “You like that if I got you pregnant, I’d be great with our baby?” 

“Yes,” she breathed. 

This was the moment his brain decided to remind him he needed to book everything for their trip right away.

His eyes squeezed shut, taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out as he pressed his forehead to hers. 

“I’m sorry, Cielito,” he sounded pained. “We can’t fool around right now. I’ve got shit I need to do.” 

“But we were about to have really kinky sex,” she groaned.

“I’ll make it up to you after I get all our stuff booked and we eat dinner.” He sweetly kissed her. “Anything you want,” he said when he broke away, looking her in the eyes. “Anything.”

“Okay. That’s acceptable. I both love and hate that you’re a responsible adult.” She pouted. “Use my credit card and book us in business class since it’s two seats in a row. That way, we won’t have to worry about anyone sitting with us.” 

He smiled. “Yeah, I didn’t want anyone sitting with us either and planned on booking business—maybe first, depending on the price.” 

“Meh, stick with business.” 

“Okay. Window or aisle?” 

“Window.” 

“Good, ‘cause I like the aisle.”

That made her grin. “It’s like we’re meant to be or something. Next, you’re gonna tell me I can have your peanuts.”

“Oh, yeah, I never eat them. I usually just have a drink.” 

Whiskey on the rocks. 

“We’re soulmates.” 

“We are.” He agreed with a nod. 

“Ugh.” She stepped away from him, and his mouth turned down, his hands falling. “You’re basically naked, and I want to jump your bones. Put on some clothes, you saucy temptress.” Her head turned, shielding her eyes with her hand. 

“Saucy temptress?” he chuckled, walking so close as he passed her their arms brushed, heading toward his dresser. 

“You heard me—seducing me with your manly wiles and, god, your rockin’ bod. Okay, I’m going to the living room because you are so close to getting your dick sucked.” He opened a drawer, pulling out his sweatpants. “You know,” she said, still standing in the same spot but shuffling to face him. “You’re gonna be on the phone, right?” The towel dropped to the floor as he pulled on the pants. 

“Yeah,” he answered. 

“So, I mean, while you’re talking, theoretically, I could suck your dick while you’re doing it.” 

He sucked in a breath, his half-hard cock twitching at the thought. 

“You’re the saucy temptress,” he rasped, bending down with a groan to grab his towel and moving to toss it in the nearby dirty clothes hamper. “No, mi amor (my love), that’s how I end up accidentally booking us on a flight to fucking Australia or some shit.” 

“You’re no fun.” She was pouting again, looking adorable. 

“But I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” 

The Laredo Airport wasn’t very big. 

Built by the U.S. Government during World War II, it was used by the United States Air Force, then during the Cold War, it was a pilot training base. With the defense cutbacks after the Vietnam War, the military presence ended by the tail end of 1973, with commercial air service not arriving until the summer of 1975. 

The commercial air service? It would take you to exotic destinations, like Dallas/Fort Worth and Houston-Intercontinental. Basically, you flew from Laredo’s tiny airport to one of the larger Texan airports and, from there, headed to your desired location. 

This is how you ended up on a flight from Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport at 8:45 AM on a Thursday morning in December. 

The trip would only be three days long, so you both packed carry-ons that Javi insisted he carry, or roll, for your suitcase; he brought a leather duffle bag for himself. He safely stored the luggage in the overhead compartment, and you had seated yourself by the window and buckled in, your boyfriend beside you in the only other seat in your row.

For a comfortable flight, you wore leggings, an oversized T-shirt, and tennis shoes. Javier? The man refused to look anything but his best out in public, so he was in his usual tight-ass jeans, a white button-up with a blue patterned design, and his black leather jacket—to go to Miami, where the weather was hot and, from what you were told, humid. 

The things he did in the name of being the sexiest man alive. 

Your leg was bouncing, your shoulders tense, chewing on your thumb. 

Warm fingers laced with those of your free hand, Javi gently squeezing it. 

“You a nervous flyer?” he whispered. 

Turning your head toward him, you answered, “Little bit. It’s mostly take-off and landing. Once we’re in the air, I’m fine.”

“Yeah? How can I help?”

“I don’t know. Talk to me? Are you a nervous flyer?” 

A little smile was on his lips, barely shaking his head. “No. I’m used to it with all the traveling I did for work. I will say I prefer planes over helicopters, though.” 

The last of the passengers were boarding, but you aren’t paying any of them mind, in your little bubble with Javi. 

“Did you fly in helicopters a lot?” 

“Thankfully, no. We used them mostly when we needed to go out into the jungle, which I always fucking hated.” 

“The helicopter ride or the jungle?” 

“Both. It’s hot in there, and the animals. I, uh, don’t like snakes…” 

His answer made you smile as you replied, “That’s very Indiana Jones of you.” A thought came to you. “Oh! Would you wear a fedora if I got you one?”

His eyes squinted. “No...” 

The pilot came over the speaker. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome onboard Flight AA319 with service from Dallas/Fort Worth to Miami. We are currently second in line for take-off and should be in the air in approximately ten minutes. We ask that you please fasten your seatbelts at this time and secure all baggage underneath your seat or in the overhead compartments. We also ask that your seats and table trays are in the upright position for take-off. Please turn off all personal electronic devices, including laptops and cell phones. Smoking is prohibited for the duration of the flight. Thank you for flying American Airlines. We hope you enjoy your flight.”

You frowned at Javi, going back to your conversation. “But you’ve got the leather jacket—” You patted it over his pec. “—and the button up, that we can sluttily unbutton to show some skin, and we’ll get you a pair of khaki pants.” 

His eyes remained narrowed. “Why do you always want me to dress up as characters played by that guy—what’s his name? Harry Ford?” 

“Harrison Ford, and it’s not my fault he’s played some iconic characters that you’d look hot dressed up as—don’t lie to me and say you wouldn’t enjoy dressing up as Han Solo. You think he’s the coolest guy.” 

He was frowning now. “Han’s okay, but Boba Fett’s cooler.” He shrugged.

Your eyebrow rose. “Do you want me to get you some Boba Fett armor so you can pretend to be a space bounty hunter, and we can make it horny and have you hunt me down?” 

The wheels were turning in his head, and he seemed to be thinking it over, which made you giggle. 

“It’d be too uncomfortable,” he finally answered. “And I wouldn’t be able to see shit in the helmet. If I’m gonna dress up as a Star Wars character, I’ll stick with Han.” 

“Smart man.”

Javi kept talking to you about nothing important to keep you distracted as the plane started moving, only pausing when the flight attendants went over the safety briefing. 

What you didn’t expect was right before take-off, he kissed you, and not a chaste kiss but a toe-curling, forgot-how-to-think, skin-heating, breath-stealing, tongue-tangling kiss that had you so caught up in him, you didn’t even notice the plane had left the ground, or rose thousands of feet into the sky. 

When you finally broke away for air, you felt dazed; your eyes had closed, panting breaths and smiling. Arousal swirled in your belly and dripped into your panties, feeling the cotton dampened and sticking to your skin. 

“Still feeling nervous?” he asked, kissing your chin. 

“God, no.” You replied breathily. “Feeling horny.” 

A ding sounded, the light showing ‘seat belts needed to be fastened’ turning off, a flight attendant announcing, “Ladies and gentlemen, the Captain has turned off the fasten seat belt sign, and you may now move around the cabin.” 

“Javi?” Your eyes opened. 

“Yes, Cielito?” 

Leaning close to press your lips to his ear, you quietly asked, “Have you ever joined the mile-high club?” 

He audibly gulped. “No.”

“Would you like to?” His jacket was unzipped, and you walked your fingers over the skin on his chest, revealed by the top few buttons being undone, his aviators hanging in the dip. 

“Hold on.” Suddenly, his seatbelt was clicking open, and he was rising, keeping his head ducked until he was in the aisle, hastening toward the front of the plane. Watching curiously, he opened a lavatory door and went inside, coming out a minute later, a grumpy look on his perfect face as he made his way back to you and sat down beside you with a grunt. 

“It’s too fucking small,” he said, turning his torso to face you. “And I think we’d get caught if we tried.” He looked so disappointed, and the news made you sigh. 

“It’s good one of us is a responsible adult making the right decisions.” 

Leaning closer, he whispered, “I can get a blanket from the flight attendant and finger you under it if you really want to get off while we’re flying.” 

The idea caused your cunt to clench hard around nothing. 

“That sounds so good, but I’d want us both to get off. Guess we’re just gonna have to fuck when we go to bed tonight, and you’ll have to keep me quiet.” Your hand rubbed along his thigh, his eyes darkening. 

“I love you so fucking much,” he rasped. 

“I love you, too.” 

“Steve would hate us fucking in the guest room.” 

“That just makes you want to do it more, doesn’t it?” 

“Oh, yeah.” He smirked. 

“You’re such an asshole to him,” you giggled. 

“He deserves it,” he replied, closing what little distance was between you to kiss your lips. 

The flight was barely three hours long, which you spent reading the small book stashed in your purse, your boyfriend beside you with his reading glasses on, his big hand holding his own book you’d kept for him. 

When the flight attendant came down the aisle with the drink cart and snacks, Javi got a whiskey, while you got ginger ale and both bags of peanuts. 

The books were put away when it was time to land, and he held your hand tight while the other caressed your face as he distracted you with another mind-blowing kiss—you’d never enjoyed taking off and landing so much. 

Off the plane, Javi had the bags—carrying his duffle by the handles and rolling your luggage through the airport to the rental car agency. You took his bag when you got to the counter so he could fish his wallet out of his back pocket, passing the employee his driver’s license with you standing beside him.

The dark-haired man on the other side was smiling as he read the card and started inputting the information into a computer, his name tag reading Martin and beneath it, ‘Hablo Español.’

“Welcome to Miami, Mr. and Mrs. Peña!” Martin said, his words heavily accented. Your eyes rounded, Javi’s arm wrapping around your waist to pull you into him. “I hope you had a pleasant trip!” 

“It wasn’t too bad,” your future husband replied. “Right, Mrs. Peña?” He was smirking when he turned his head toward you, looking beyond delighted. 

“Right, Mr. Peña,” you answered with a smile, getting closer to him by hooking your arm around his middle, resting your head against his chest. “The flight was pretty great.” 

“Awe,” Martin replied. “Newlyweds, no? Here on your honeymoon?” He glanced up from what he was doing. 

“Something like that,” Javi responded, kissing your hair. 

The conversation transitioned to business, with your boyfriend having to sign a lot of paperwork before he handed you a small stapled stack and the employee directed you where to go to get the car, which involved getting on a shuttle bus. 

The sun was shining down from the clear blue sky, the temperature hot and humid, Javi having to take off his leather jacket. You were more than happy to carry it along with the papers for the car while he took care of lugging around the bags when they dropped you off at the car lot. A stop had to be made in a small, blissfully air-conditioned building to get the keys and have someone take you to where the vehicle was parked. You would think for such a short trip and the small amount of stuff you had, he would’ve rented a full-size sedan at most—nope, Javi rented an SUV, a brand new forest green ‘98 Ford Explorer, to be exact. 

His aviators were on, leaving you with the bags on the ground at your feet. At the same time, he meticulously inspected the SUV’s exterior for any scratches or dings that needed to be reported so they weren’t blamed on you, rubbing his thumb over some spots. 

Sometimes—well, a lot of the time when you were out in public—he had an intimidating aura about him, ‘just don’t fuck with me’ vibes wafting off of him with the grumpy expression on his face and how confidently he moved about. It came in handy when you were in crowded places because people stayed out of his way and didn’t bother you—instead of scary dog privilege, you had scary boyfriend privilege. An issue with scary boyfriend privilege: he was making the rental car agency worker extremely nervous, the poor man holding his clipboard and sweating profusely, which you didn’t think had anything to do with the weather. 

He was standing by you as Javi did his thing, shorter than your boyfriend with light skin, brown hair, and if you squinted, he kind of looked like Tom Hanks in Sleepless in Seattle—same hairstyle, same forehead. 

“He’s a teddy bear,” you whispered to the employee. 

There was confusion on his face when he looked at you. “What?” he asked. 

“Javi—” You nodded in the direction of the man, who was crouched at the passenger side door and using his thumb to see if a mark was dirt or a scratch. “—he’s a teddy bear. It’s just how his resting face looks. Watch this.” You called out to Javi, “Find anything, baby?” 

“No,” he answered, grunting as he rose to stand. His hands were on his hips as he gave the side of the vehicle another look over. 

“I love you,” you told him. 

His head turned in your direction, giving you a beaming smile. “I love you, too, mi amor (my love).” 

He looked back at the SUV, and you said quietly out of the corner of your mouth, “See.” 

“I didn’t notice anything,” Javi told the employee, heading your way and wiping his hands on his jeans. 

“That’s great, sir,” the worker replied. “I just need you to sign here.” He pointed at a place on the paper clipped to his clipboard with the pen he showed your boyfriend. Javi was quickly signing and taking the offered keys. 

“Thank you,” your boyfriend said, shaking the other man’s hand. 

“No problem. If you have any issues, just give us a call.” 

“Sounds good.” 

The employee went away. 

The vehicle was already unlocked, so Javi walked over to the front passenger-side door. “Let me get your door, Mrs. Peña,” he said as he opened it. 

It made you giggle, moving his way with his jacket and the paperwork still held in your arms and hand, avoiding the bags on the ground. “That really made your day, didn’t it?” you asked, leaning in to kiss him when you were in front of him. 

“Yes, Mrs. Peña,” he murmured against your lips, feeling him smile. One of his hands was on the top of the door with the keys tucked in his palm, his other grabbing a handful of your ass. 

“You’re adorable, Mr. Peña.” Breaking away, you continued, “Give me the keys so I can get the AC going.” There was a grin under his perfectly trimmed mustache as he dangled the keys in front of your face, and you maneuvered the stuff in your arms to free up a hand to grab them—he pulled them away before the tips of your fingers even touched the metal. 

You glared at him when he said, “Ask nicely for them this time.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah.”

Inhaling deeply, you let the air leave your nose in a huff. “My love, may I please have the keys so I can get the AC going?”

“Of course, baby.” He handed them to you. “I’ll take care of the bags.” Leaning in, his lips met your cheek in a loud smacking kiss, slapping your ass before he walked away.

Miami had become a home away from home for Javier. It was a place where he could relax and be surrounded by the Murphys, whom he considered family even though they didn’t share blood. 

Colombia never felt like home. 

He knew he wasn’t welcome down there, finding his sparse apartments cold and lifeless, the only personal touch he made in the later years being the ofrenda for his late mother. There was no relaxing in South America when each morning he woke up could’ve been his last. Sure, he had Steve and Connie for a lot of it, but they were just as stressed as he was, and more so when Olivia came about, to the point Connie just up and left, back to the States. 

Colombia was never home, and at the time he was sent back to Texas after his fuck up with Los Pepes, Laredo didn’t feel like home either. 

He hadn’t known where he belonged when a good portion of the people in the town where he was born and raised still judged him for something he’d done over a decade earlier, a handful even hostile toward him. 

After Steve finished their work and got Pablo Escobar, he returned to Florida to his wife and kid. They invited Javier to visit and stay in their guest room for however long he needed, and he had. They wouldn’t take any money he tried to offer them, but they accepted his help around the house and caring for Olivia, who was five by then.  

Then he was called back to South America, and upon returning to the U.S. after that stint, he stayed with his dad for a month before he was in Miami again, that time for about a year, where he helped out with their barely ten-month-old, Stevie, and seven-year-old Olivia.

After going back to Laredo to be with his dad, he’d take occasional weekend trips like he and Cielito were doing now to stay with the family. Those trips became less frequent when they adopted Nate—he felt it was important they all had time to bond with their new addition without him being in the way. 

He spent so much time in this Florida city, he knew his way around pretty well, like how it was faster to take 874 South instead of Ronald Reagan Turnpike, and as a bonus, they’d avoid tolls. 

The air conditioning was cranked high, whooshing loudly while a Spanish station played loud enough to hear. He had one hand gripping the steering wheel, the fingers of his other laced with those of the woman he was going to marry, resting on her thigh. 

She was looking out at the scenery in interest as they drove. 

“Why’d you get this car?” she asked, staring out her window. 

“So we’d have room for the little passengers.” Bringing her hand up, he kissed the back of it. 

She looked at him. “The kids are gonna want to ride with us?” 

He glanced at her, resting their hands back on her leg, smiling. “Oh, yeah. At least Olivia and Stevie—Nate’s too young to care. Doing the whole car seat thing in a smaller car fucking sucks.” 

“So, what I’m hearing is we will be getting something like this when the baby-making starts and my car will have to go?” 

Her car was a tiny two-door Honda, and just thinking about getting a car seat in it was making his back hurt, her question also causing his chest to go tight from happiness.

His eyes were back on the road. “Sorry, baby.” He squeezed her hand. “I know you love your car. I was thinking something bigger than this.” 

“True,” she replied. “We gotta have room for all those babies you’re gonna knock me up with.” 

A shock of arousal shot through his belly. 

He had to clear his throat, his voice a little deeper. “Yeah…” 

“I can’t believe that innocent comment turned you on,” she laughed, and he frowned. 

“Don’t laugh,” he grumbled, having to wiggle a tiny bit in his seat with how blood had rushed to his dick. 

Immediately, she stopped but still sounded amused. “I’m sorry, babe. I know it excites you a lot.��� 

“Excites you a lot, too.” 

“Yes, it does. So, let’s talk about something safe. How long before we’re there?” 

“About fifteen minutes.” 

“That’s not too bad.” 

She questioned him about what they lived close to, and he answered they were near a zoo, some parks, and the ocean was a ten-minute drive.

The Murphys lived in a one-story ranch-style house with an A-shaped gable roof extending over the front porch. The stucco on the outside was painted a golden yellow with crimson trim, and the window panes were outlined in bright white. 

In the driveway, Connie’s minivan and Steve’s little truck were parked. Javi pulled in behind his best friend’s rig, and not even thirty seconds later the front door was opening, hearing muffled, high-pitched squeals. 

“Hey,” he said to Cielito, getting her attention. “Relax. They’re gonna love you. You have nothing to worry about.” 

“Promise?” 

He smiled, letting go of her hand to hold up his pinky. “I pinky promise.” That made her smile as she looped hers with his, and he leaned in to kiss her quickly. 

“Okay, we better get out,” he said. 

“Okay.” 

Out of the vehicle, Javier walked around the front, a tiny dirty blonde toddler screaming at the top of his lungs as he ran out of the house, “Tío (Uncle)! Tío! Tío! Tío! Tíoooooo!”

It made him smile, crouching and opening his arms to catch the little boy, holding and hugging him as he stood back up. “Mi sobrino (My nephew)!” The child was securely sitting on one of his arms, looking more like his dad than the last time he saw him. “You’ve gotten so big, Stevie!” He tickled the toddler’s belly, making him laugh and squirm. 

Connie came out with Nate on her hip and Steve smiling beside her. 

“What are you feeding him?” Javier asked his friends. “How has he grown so much in, what, eight, nine months?” 

“Kids grow fast, Javi,” Steve answered. “Nate’s already walking.” 

His eyes went wide, getting a good look at the baby who’d only been six or so months the last time he was here and now was over a year old and a toddler—he was bigger, his olive-colored arms not as chubby, the black curls on top of his head longer, and eyes still as dark as he remembered.  

“You’ve gotta be fuc—” The other adults gave him looks, quickly correcting himself. “—freaking kidding me. He’s walking? Already?” 

“Yep,” Connie answered. “And talking. Right now, he’s tired because it’s nap time. Isn’t that right, baby?” she cooed, kissing Nate’s hair, his head resting against her shoulder and babbling. 

He was stunned at how quickly they grew in so little time, feeling a ball of anxiety form in his gut, thinking about his future children and losing so much time with them because of work. Dread was heavy like a stone on his chest at the thought of missing milestones of his kid’s growth. 

Fingers snapped in front of his face to get his attention, hearing his name and realizing it was Steve, Javier swallowing hard. 

“What?” he asked. 

His best friend’s eyebrow rose. “I asked if you were gonna be polite and introduce us to your girlfriend.” 

“Oh, shi-shoot.” She was on the side with his empty arm, and he rubbed his hand up her back, smiling. “Sorry, Steve, Connie, this is the woman I’m gonna marry—” He told them her name. “—or I just call her mi Cielito, my little heaven.” He kissed her temple. “Cielito, these are my best friends, Steve, Connie, Connie’s got Nate, and—” Straightening, he looked at the child in his arms. “Hey buddy, you wanna tell her your name?” he asked gently. Stevie hid his face in Javier’s neck, and his big hand went to the back of his head while his parents laughed. “Awe, it’s okay, bud.” He rubbed over the boy’s hair. “I know she’s a new person. She’s really nice and excited to meet you, and she makes amazing cookies.” 

His little head popped up. “Cookies?” his tiny voice asked. 

Javier smiled. He knew that’d get him. “Yeah, she makes amazing cookies.” 

“I want cookies,” Stevie replied. His attention turned to Connie. “Can we have cookies, Mommy?” 

“One second, baby boy.” She walked toward Cielito to whisper something in her ear. 

His girlfriend nodded her head, answering, “Sure! I can do that!”

“Is it really okay?” the other woman asked, meeting her eyes. 

“Yeah!” 

“Okay.” Connie looked at her eldest son. “The nice lady says she’ll make cookies with you, but you’ll have to tell her your name.” 

The boy looked past Javi to excitedly shout at Cielito, “Stevie!” Reaching his little arms toward her, and it made warmth spread through him when, without missing a beat, she took the toddler from him. 

“Hi, Stevie,” she said with a warm smile. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

They were facing him, and Javier pointed at her. “She’s gonna be your tía (aunt), Stevie.” 

The child’s eyes moved from him to her. “Tía?” he asked, shoving a finger at her chest.

“Yeah, bud, she’s your tía (aunt), and I’m your tío (uncle).”

Tiny blue eyes met his. “Tío—” His head turned to her. “—Tía.” 

“Yes.” She confirmed. “And you’re Stevie.” She gently poked his chest. 

“Stevie!” He clapped his hands. “We’re gonna make cookies, Tía?” 

“Yes, your mom said after your nap.” 

“Well, let’s head inside then, guys,” grown-up Steve announced. 

“Come with me,” Connie told his girlfriend. “The men can get the bags, and I’ll put the boys down for a nap.” 

“Okay,” she replied. 

It made him smile how easily she went, his eyes on her back with the toddler on her hip, whispering to him, and Javier thought it looked so perfect, so right; his mind was running wild with images of what she’d look like holding their child—wishing she was holding their child. Stevie looked like a miniature version of Steve; would Javier’s child with his future wife look more like him or her? Or would they be a mix of them both? What he knew for sure was they’d be perfect, and he would love them more than anything in the goddamn world. 

Fuck, he couldn’t wait to get married.

Hands landed on his shoulders from behind. 

“Jesus Christ, Jav,” Steve laughed, giving him a playful shake. He got out of the hold, spinning around to see his friend’s grinning face that made him clench his jaw. “I knew you had it bad, but this is something else—you’re really in love with this girl.” 

His eyebrows creased, frowning. 

Steve had known about his girlfriend since their relationship began and even gave him wanted and unwanted advice when he did and didn’t need it—he knew damn well Javier loved her. He’d been on his ass to fucking tell her, like how he’s been on his ass to get him to fucking propose, and only now was he actually believing it was all real? 

It pissed him off that his best friend doubted his feelings for her.

“Fuck you, man,” he replied, shoving the other man’s shoulder and watching his face fall. “Yeah, I fucking love her. I’ve fucking told you.” 

“Hey, hey—” Steve put up his hands in a placating gesture. “—I know you love her, Javier. I’ve known from how you’ve talked about her, but seeing it in person is something else.” 

“What do you mean?” His hands were perched on his hips, ignoring the beads of sweat dripping down his spine under his shirt. 

Steve smiled. “That ugly mug of yours—” He gestured at Javier’s face. “It’s clear in how you look at her. It’s like you’ve got fuckin’ hearts in your eyes or some shit,” he chuckled, Javier sighing. “I’ve known you for a long fucking time, Javi, and I’ve never seen you look at anyone the way you look at her.”

The explanation mollified him.

“I’ve never felt like this with anyone but her.” 

“I know.” His friend clapped a hand on his bicep. “And I’m really fucking happy for you, Jav.” 

“Thanks.” 

“I’m sweating my balls off. Let’s get inside.” 

“Yeah, it’s fucking hot,” he replied, heading toward the back of the rental. 

He didn’t need help carrying the bags or directions to the guest room. 

The house was nice and cool as he walked inside along the stone tiled floor and directly into their formal sitting room containing a long beige couch against the far left wall with a walnut-colored coffee table in front of it; a smaller version of the sofa along the wall beside the front door and under the large white-framed window, a chair that matched the same style across from it, and end tables at the sides of the couches. 

They never actually used this area unless they were hosting guests or during Christmas when Connie would rearrange the furniture to make it picturesque with their tree. Steve thought it was a waste of space; his wife could never know that.

His shoes came off with everyone else’s by the front door, where Connie had a shoe rack overflowing with pairs for adults and children, leaving his next to Cielito’s on the floor. Going further into the room, Steve headed for the kitchen while he turned down the hallway that opened to the right and led to the bedrooms and bathrooms. Olivia’s was the first door on the right. The second was a full bath themed around dolphins, her favorite animal, with them on the shower curtain, the art on the walls, painted on the toothbrush holder, and soap dispenser.

Next was Nate’s room, his door closed and across the hall from his parents’ master suite. 

The two boys’ rooms happened to be connected by a bathroom between them. Javier stopped in his tracks at Stevie’s open door—the woman he came here with, the one who made him the happiest man in the world, who he was going to marry and spend the rest of his life with, was sitting on the edge of his nephew’s bed with her back to the door, her attention on the child lying on his side facing her with his eyes closed under a light blanket as she rubbed small circles on his shirt-covered back.

Javier’s eyes crinkled at the edges when he smiled, a soft sigh leaving his lips. 

“She volunteered,” Connie whispered behind him, causing him to jump in his skin. “Sorry for scaring you—“ She squeezed his arm reassuringly. “She volunteered,” she continued. “Asked me how she could help and what Stevie’s nap time routine was, and it looks like she’s a pro. She’s great with him.”

“Yeah, she is.” He spoke just as quietly, glancing over his shoulder. “Rubbing his back still puts him to sleep?”

She playfully slapped his arm. “That’s your damn fault.”

“It makes him fall asleep, doesn’t it?”

“Quickest way. We do it with Nate, too.”

“Then why are you mad at me?”

“It’s not right you out-parented us. Now, you better marry this woman, Javier. It’s about damn time you become a father.” 

He scratched at his mustache. “You, uh, think I’d be a good dad?”

She looked at him like he was stupid. 

“Javier, you’ve always been so much help when you stay with us, and the kids adore you. Yeah, you’re gonna be a fantastic father.”

His throat was feeling tight. Steve arrived at Connie’s back, holding a beer. 

“What are y’all whispering about?” the other man quietly asked. 

“Javi being a great dad,” his wife replied, looking over her shoulder at him. 

“Oh, yeah, we’ve known that for years,” Steve said. “We just didn’t think you’d ever pull your head out of your ass and settle down.”

“Didn’t find the right person until now.” Javier shrugged. He peeked into the room, seeing his future wife was still occupied. Turning his head, he told the other two, “Follow me to the guest room. I need to ask you a favor.”

To be honest, you were really nervous about helping with nap time and stayed a little longer than necessary, rubbing the sleeping three-year-old's back to ensure he truly was passed out.  

There’d been whispers in the hall that hadn’t helped your nerves, wondering what the other three adults were saying amongst themselves and knowing it was probably about you, hoping it was positive. Steve and Connie seemed to like you, and she had trusted you to help with her child, so that was a good sign. They’d disappeared into the guest bedroom, down and across the hall, Connie had pointed out earlier when she gave you a very quick tour. 

You figured it was probably safe to leave now, ensuring the toddler was tucked in under his dark blue blanket before you’d gotten up and quietly tip-toed out of the door you closed behind you with a soft click. 

It didn’t take too many steps to get to where the guest room door was cracked open, with light spilling out into the hallway, and muffled voices could be heard. You entered, finding your boyfriend and the other couple huddled at the foot of the queen-sized bed directly in front of you.

The walls were painted a soothing greige, the greyish-beige color accented by the eggshell white ceiling, trim, and doors for the closet and en suite. An interesting choice was the wrought iron bed frame that looked old and out of place alongside the nice newer black bedside tables and dresser across from it and the stone-colored armless accent chair in the corner—even the lamps were modern, making the dark, possibly rusting, iron stick out like a sore thumb. The large framed photos of ocean waves crashing and rolling decorating the walls made up for it, though, enjoying the room's atmosphere. 

Javi’s head turned toward you, and he smiled. “Hey, baby.” He took a couple of steps to grab your hand and pulled you over to the Murphys. 

“What were you guys talking about?” you asked. 

“Going to the beach tomorrow,” Connie answered with a big smile. “Olivia’s staying home from school, and we were thinking we’d spend the day there.” 

That made you grin. “I’d love that!” Javi pulled you into his side. 

Your bags were on the ground in front of the dresser. 

“I know,” your boyfriend said, kissing your hair. 

It had warm fuzziness spreading through your veins at how thoughtful they were. 

“Well, glad we’ve got that figured out,” Connie announced, clapping her hands together. “Javi knows, but let me show you where everything is.”

“Okay.” 

She took you into the pretty standard bathroom—the combination shower/bathtub against the furthest wall from the door with a floral printed shower curtain on a golden rod; the bathroom vanity on your right as you walked in, painted white with a similar color laminate countertop and sink with red handles to open the drawers and cabinets under the sink, a large mirror hanging on the wall above it, and the toilet in the space between it and bath. She opened the doors under the sink so you could see where the towels and washcloths were kept and led you back into the bedroom to open the closet door so you knew where the extra blankets were. 

“—and I’m sorry about the bed.” Connie grimaced. 

“Yeah,” Javi interjected. “What happened to the old bed frame?” His hands were on the top of the footboard that looked like a wide, upside-down U made out of a thick pipe, with two smaller ones going across and others connecting those two in the middle. He gave it a little shake, the metal squeaking loudly.

“Steve saw this—” She pointed at it. “—and said it reminded him of a bed he’d slept in at his grandparents, and he just had to buy it. He thought it’d look great in here.” 

“Right…” Javi replied, turning his head, and even though all you could see was the back of it, you knew he was glaring at his friend.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Steve asked, crossing his arms. “I have fond memories of spending time with ‘ol peepaw and granny. Like when he’d take me duck hunting.” 

You were pretty sure you heard Javi mutter, “Fuckin’ hillbilly.”

Obviously, he was not happy about the sounds the bed was making, and you were a little disappointed about it, too—he hadn’t been joking about Steve hating you fucking in here. 

The blonde man was smirking. “What was that?” 

“I said it’s great you’ve got fond memories,” Javi sighed, looking forward again with the fingers of one hand pressed to his forehead. 

“So,” Connie began, “again, I’m sorry about how squeaky the bed is—”

“I’m not,” Steve interrupted, which earned him a middle finger from your boyfriend, whom the blonde man simply laughed at. 

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” you said, trying to keep things civil. 

“Hopefully,” the other woman replied with a nervous smile. “Well, we’re gonna get out of your hair ‘cause I’m sure you wanna freshen up after your flight.” 

“If it’s okay with you guys, I might take a cat nap after I shower. Getting up so early and traveling has exhausted me.” 

“Oh, that’s absolutely fine, honey.” She checked her watch. “We’ve got a little over an hour before Olivia is home, and the boys will sleep until right before she gets home. Come on, Steve, let’s leave them alone.” 

“Yes, dear,” her husband answered, following her as she walked out of the room, Javi moving to close and lock the door after them. 

He turned around with a grumpy expression, letting out a loud, long sigh. 

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think it is,” you told him as you took a couple of steps to the bed and started getting on it—immediately, high-pitched squeaks sounded with any kind of movement you made on the mattress. “Okay, so it’s worse than your bed at your dad’s…” 

“He did this on purpose,” he seethed, putting his hands on his slim hips while all his weight went to one side. 

You were lying on your side with your head propped up on your arm to look at him standing over by the door. 

“Uh, yeah, that’s obvious. It was a lot of effort to put into cock blocking you. He really doesn’t like the idea of you fucking under his roof.” 

“I told you he’d hate it—didn’t think he’d do this.” He pouted. 

You didn’t like how upset he was, and you had a great idea of how to cheer him up. 

Ignoring the ear-splitting sounds as you got up from the bed.

“Keep standing there, looking pretty. I’ll be right back.” 

You saw the confusion on his face for only a moment before you were walking around the front of the bed and away from him to go through the bathroom door beside the dresser. In seconds, you were back in the bedroom and tossing a white towel onto the grey chair in the corner on the other side of the en suite door. 

“Are you taking a shower?” he asked, watching with curiosity as you moved toward him, his eyes on yours. 

“Not right now,” you answered. “I’ve got more important things to do.” 

Finally, you were in his space. “Like what?” 

“You,” you answered, grabbing him by his open collar and tugging him toward you to crush your mouth against his, swallowing his moan. His arm went around your waist, the other hand on your back, allowing you to lick into his mouth, his tongue eagerly moving with yours in a familiar dance you both knew all too well. 

Arousal was burning in your belly, feeling your heartbeat at the apex of your thighs, your need for him seeping into your underwear. 

Your fingers started working open the buttons on his shirt. 

“We can’t fuck on the bed,” he breathily said between kisses, a big palm grabbing your ass. 

“The chair,” you replied, nipping at his bottom lip. 

Suddenly, he was pulling back to look you in the eyes, his reddened lips glistening from spit while his shirt was unbuttoned, hanging open. 

“The fucking chair,” he rasped, a look on his face like he was only just realizing. 

“Yeah.” You nodded. “There’s also the floor, the counter in the bathroom, the shower, and the clear space at the wall right there—” You pointed behind where the door opened. “—if you were in the mood for wall sex, but you’re really upset about the bed—” You rubbed your hands up his bare chest. “—so I thought you’d enjoy getting ridden on the chair.” 

His lips turned up in a toothy grin. “I love you so fucking much.” He kissed you quickly.

You matched his expression, looping your arms around his neck. “I love you, too, and I’m not letting a sabotaged bed stop me from getting dicked down. We just have to be… creative and quiet.” 

His eyes darkened, the pink of his tongue peeking out for a second, and when he spoke, his voice had gone deeper and raspier. “You’re not tired,” he said matter-of-factly, his arm pulling you into him so your bodies were flush.

“Nope.” You popped the ‘p.’

“You don’t want to take a nap.” 

“I don’t want to take a nap,” you confirmed. 

His fingers slid along your cheek until he cradled your face, his gaze stuck to yours. “You want me to fuck you.” 

“Very much.” 

His head moved until his lips were grazing yours, nuzzling your nose with his. “What got you so worked up you couldn’t wait until we went to bed tonight, Cielito?” 

His proximity was fanning the flames of arousal inside you, making your entire body heat, your nipples tighten, and your lips tingle where his barely touched.

Snaking your hand between your bodies, you palmed his hard cock straining against the zipper of his pants. “Probably the same thing that has you hard as a rock—I can’t stop thinking about having babies with you.” 

“Fuck,” he groaned, thrusting into your hand. “I can’t fucking wait.” 

“To get me pregnant?” you purred, stroking him over his jeans. “Or to fuck me?”

“Both,” he growled, grabbing the hem of your oversized shirt and saying as he roughly pulled it up and off your arms to land carelessly on the floor, “and you fucking know it.” You did, and it made your pussy throb. 

“I do.” You helped him shrug off his button-up, your hands going to his belt next. “And I can’t fucking wait either.” The buckle clinked as you effortlessly worked it open and unbuttoned his jeans, hearing the teeth pull apart as you unzipped them. 

Warm palms held your face to make you meet the dark pools of his eyes. 

“To get pregnant,” his voice had gone lower, seeing his tongue quickly wet his bottom lip. “Or for me to fuck you?” 

His pants were undone, and with there being no underwear in your way, you reached in and took him in hand, his shaft feeling like steel wrapped in heated velvet—hot, hard, and silky to the touch. A thrill moved through you at his mouth falling open and eyes closing, his groan going straight to your cunt. 

“Both,” you answered. 

One word and he became ravenous, desperate, smashing his mouth to yours in a passionate kiss while he went about undressing you as he walked you backward toward the chair—your bra getting tossed somewhere to your left, his lips leaving yours and stopping long enough for him to tug down your leggings and underwear in one fell swoop. He ghosted kisses up your body when he rose again until your mouths were attached once more, continuing the journey to the corner chair, his arm holding you around your middle to help guide you, your hands hanging onto his shoulders. 

He spoke between presses of his lips to yours, “You looked so fucking perfect holding the kid…. You’re gonna be an amazing mother to our children…. I need you so fucking bad…. I wanna give you a baby…. Let me fuck a baby into you…. Please.” The last bits made you moan into his mouth, your nails digging into his skin. 

The lines were blurred, and you weren’t sure if this was him leaning into the kink you shared or if he was being serious. It was true you couldn’t wait to get pregnant, but you both were well aware the apartment you lived in wasn’t big enough for the addition of a baby and had been actively working with one of the only two architects in town to design the home you planned to build. There was also the fact you wanted to get married first, and the proposal was months away. As much as you both wanted a child, you couldn’t start trying for another year at minimum.

Why were you overthinking this? You would just have a discussion with him after the sex to make sure you were both on the same page. 

“God, yes,” you gasped. “I want it.” 

The soft fabric of the chair hit the back of your legs, his big hands gripping your asscheeks, murmuring against your lips, “Let me eat your pussy first.” 

“Later,” came your muffled reply. “This has to be quick, so we don’t get caught.” 

You could feel him frowning before he broke away. 

“I don’t fucking care if we get caught.” His eyebrows were furrowed, and his lips were turned down.

What he said made you sigh, another thing that had you overthinking. “I know you don’t care,” you kept your tone as gentle as possible, rubbing your hands over his bare back. “But I do. They’ve been your friends for years and already love you. I’m only just meeting them, and I don’t want to give them a bad first impression. Yeah, I’m okay with going against Steve’s wishes and fucking here, only as long as he doesn’t know. Does that make sense?” 

“Yeah, I get it. I’m sorry.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I was an asshole for even thinking of letting us get caught.”

“It’s okay.” Your hands skated along his naked sides. “Now, let’s get back to the sexy—I am so horny.” 

His hand fell. “Do you need me to finger you?” 

“I think I’m wet enough. One second, though.” You held up a finger before turning around and spreading the towel over the seat. Facing him again, you ordered, “Pants off, Mr. Peña, and sit,” and moved out of his way. 

He huffed out an amused breath, pushing down his jeans. “As you wish, Mrs. Peña.” Stepping out of them, a pained groan slipped from his throat as he straightened, taking the seat as you requested. 

The armless chair was about as wide as a dining room chair with some cushioning and a channel-stitched back, covered in grey velvet, the wooden legs painted black. Javi sat down, getting comfortable as he sat back and spread his legs. 

The sight before you had your mouth going dry. 

His lust-filled gaze was looking up at you, taking in the broad shoulders, the expanse of his golden chest down to his soft tummy, where below his belly button, a trail of hair led your eyes to his big hand slowly stroking his hard cock; the tip was red and shining from the steady dribble of precum leaking from it, that he was using to ease the glide of his palm—he was the perfect picture of seduction and you were under his spell, willing to do anything he wanted.

A crooked smile appeared under his mustache. 

“You wanna watch me jerk off?” he asked. “Or are you gonna ride me?” 

The questions snapped you out of your reverie. 

“Sorry,” you quickly apologized, stepping to stand between his widened knees. “You’re just so sexy, and you know, watching you jerk off really gets me going.” 

“I know, mi amor (my love),” he chuckled. 

His hand left his dick, the long shaft resting against the coarse hair on his belly. Gently, he tugged you by the arm down for a kiss, and you took over, slowly stroking him at the odd angle, making him groan into your mouth when you went lower to fondle his sack, his large palm reaching around to trace the curve of your ass before giving it a squeeze.

On occasion, your husband-to-be had the tendency to get caught up in kissing—Javi loved kissing, so when he pulled you forward by your backside, your arms went around his neck for balance, and you welcomed his tongue when it pressed between your lips. His palms slid up your sides to rest on your ribs as he plundered your mouth, your heart hammering in your chest, feeling slick coating your inner thighs. 

The needy ache in your core got worse and worse with every passing minute, finally getting to the point where you had to get him inside you, or there was a chance you were going to combust from the pent-up tension. 

You broke away, his lips chasing yours. 

“I need you,” you panted. 

His eyes met yours, his pupils blown so wide that only a thin sliver of chocolate brown remained. 

“Okay,” he said through heavy breaths with a nod. “I’ve got you, baby. Stand up.” 

You did as he said, watching as he spit on his fingers and rubbed the saliva onto his cock, doing it a couple of times until his entire length glistened in the bright overhead light. 

Once satisfied, his hands were on your upper thighs as he helped you get one leg over his onto the ground beside the chair, then the other to have you standing on either side of him and straddling his hips. Not wasting any more time, you reached between your legs, guiding him to your entrance, and slowly lowered. That first stretch always stole your breath, resting your arms on his freckled shoulders, one of his going around your back to bring you flush to his front, his free hand skating down your back to grip one plump cheek of your ass. 

Javi’s eyes had squeezed shut, his breath hitching, feeling how your walls were having to make space for the girth of him and relishing the slight burn from the lack of foreplay. He wasn’t even halfway in, and you rose until only the tip remained, dropping again to take a little more, doing the same thing over and over, taking more of him each time until he was fully seated inside you. 

The familiar fullness made you smile, a deep sigh leaving you at how good it felt. Your skin was buzzing just below the surface, your body hot all over, sweat beginning to form on your brow, and you were in heaven. 

His face was against your collarbone, his warm breath hitting your skin. “You feel so fucking good,” his voice was muffled, the hand on your ass tightening. “Fuck, te amo (I love you). No sé cuánto tiempo voy a durar (I don’t know how long I'll last). Úsame para hacerte venir (Use me to make yourself come). Úsame, por favor (Use me, please). ¿Puedes hacer eso por mí, Cielito (Can you do that for me, Cielito)? ¿Puedes hacerte sentir bien (Can you make yourself feel good)?” 

“Sí (Yes),” you answered. “Sí, Papí (Yes, Papí).” 

His chest rumbled under you from his groan, a hand coming down on your ass in a sharp slap that made you clench around him. 

“Monta me (Ride me),” he ordered, smacking your backside again. “Monta me duro, mi amor (Ride me hard, my love).” 

Grabbing the hair at the back of his head, you pulled on it as you straightened your spine to make him look at you, his eyes heavy-lidded when they blinked open, while yours narrowed in a glare. 

“Javier, stop smacking my ass,” you hissed. “We have to be quiet, and you better make sure I don’t get too loud.” 

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. 

“Lo siento, cariño (I’m sorry, sweetheart).” His warm hands rubbed along the sides of your spine. “Prometo, estar más callado y evitar que hagas mucho ruido (I promise, I will be quieter and keep you from making too much noise).”

“Thank you,” you replied, pushing his hair back from his face. Leaning in close, you gave him a gentle peck on his lips and the tip of his nose. “If you come before me, it’s fine—it would probably take me with you, anyway.” 

“Fuck,” he breathed, feeling him twitch inside you. “With how you’re soaking my dick, I think you’ll get off pretty fucking fast.” 

“Probably.” You shrugged and started rolling your hips, watching in delight as his mouth fell open in a moan and his body shuddered. 

His arm wrapped around your waist, the other hand holding your jaw, keeping his eyes locked on yours, your own arm over his shoulder, and free hand caressing the side of his face. Both of you were sharing in the pleasure, your bodies fitting together so perfectly like two puzzle pieces, breathing each other in, losing yourselves in this moment. 

He wanted you to use him to make yourself feel good, so you did. 

Standing made it easy to rise on your legs, sliding up his hard cock to leave only the head and fall back down, thrusting your hips forward on the downstroke to take him to the hilt and make him raggedly groan. 

Heat was blooming in your belly, getting hotter with every second you worked yourself on his dick. He pulled you in for a kiss, and you slowed to a grind, the rough curls at the base of his cock rubbing deliciously against the swollen bud of your clit, adding gasoline to the fire inside you.

Like this, he was in so deep you were sure you could probably feel him if you pressed on your stomach, and you knew if he knew that, he’d be a smug bastard about it, which was valid.

You started moving again, the kissing becoming sporadic as you rode him in earnest, your arousal spilling down his shaft to coat his balls. His fingers were digging into the cheeks of your ass, his arms flexing as he gave you momentum and helped you move. 

The two of you were trying your best to stay quiet and hold back your sounds, Javi’s face flushed and forehead wet with sweat, both unable to keep some noise from slipping out. The loudest sound was between your legs, hearing the wet suck of your slick gushing around him when his dick pushed into your drenched hole. 

Something about fucking in places where there was a chance of getting caught really turned you and him on. Add in, you were told without explicitly being told you weren’t allowed to have sex here, and the higher risk had you rocketing toward your orgasm—Javi was right; you were going to get off quick. 

His hands went to your tits, his thick fingers zeroing in on your pebbled nipples, pinching and rolling them before his mouth's hot, wet heat pulled one stiff peak into his mouth. 

“God, yes,” you moaned, pleasure shooting directly to your cunt as you bounced on his thick cock. 

The muscles in your belly were tightening, adjusting your hips so every time you sunk down, he was pressing into that one spot that dotted your vision with stars, his mouth giving your other breast the same treatment. 

This all felt amazing, but there was something you needed…

“Touch me,” you panted, rising and falling in his lap.

His head popped up, glazed over eyes looking at your face.  

“Anywhere?” he breathily asked, and the question made you stifle a moan. 

“Yes.” 

“I’ll get you there.” And you had no doubt. 

He started with tweaking your wet nipple, roughly pinching it, his other hand going between your bodies to rub his thumb against your sensitive clit, the sensations feeling like electricity arcing up your spine, making your rhythm stutter for a moment—the heat in your stomach was growing and getting hotter, the closer you were to your climax. 

“Hang onto my neck,” he told you.

“What?”

“Lean forward and hold onto my neck.” 

You did as he said, pressing into his front and hanging onto him. 

His hand on your breast moved to cup your bottom, and he adjusted in the seat, grunting as he sat up, the chair creaking beneath him. Your tempo slowed while he continued circling your bundle of nerves with one hand, his other arm reaching around your thigh to spread two fingers around where his cock was impaling you, feeling how he was stretching you open.

“Your tight little pussy takes my dick so well,” he spoke into your breasts with how you were raised up on your feet, his cock halfway inside you. “I swear I was fucking made for you.” 

A moan slipped from your lips unbidden when those same fingers slid through the abundance of your slick on his length and continued up, swiping along the edges of your puckered hole, causing sparks to dance in your center. One thick finger slowly pushed into the tight ring of muscle to the first knuckle, your eyes rolling back in your head and toes curling at the added fullness, biting your lip to keep yourself from making any noise. You worked yourself faster on his dick, tilting your pelvis so he was pressing into all of the right spots, his digit fucking in and out of you at the same pace, it all making you go dizzy with pleasure. 

Your inner walls were fluttering. 

“Come on, baby,” he rasped, not stopping what he was doing. “Once you come, I’m gonna fill you up.” His head lifted. “Gonna fuck you full of me.” He kissed your clavicle, maintaining your pace. “Stuff you so full of my come, I knock you up.” You whimpered and were almost there. “Isn’t that what you want?” His fingers were still circling your clit and pushing in and out of your asshole, your hips rolling on his cock. “For me to finally get you pregnant?” he asked. “I’ll fuck a baby into you, Cielito, all you have to do is ask.” 

And you knew he meant it, the thought entering your mind that you could throw out your birth control today, and odds were he’d have you pregnant by next month—that was what made you crest, sitting all the way down in his lap as you came, your body tensing up tight as euphoria exploded out from your center, spreading through your system. His hand on your front was suddenly over your mouth to smother your loud cry, your body trembling as you slumped into him. 

“Good girl,” his words came out thick and rough. “You’re so good to me.” 

Your chest was heaving, enjoying the aftershocks and the feel of your cunt spasming around his dick that was still hard inside you. 

His hand left your lips to ghost up and down your spine, and he removed the finger from your ass. 

“This baby stuff is getting dangerous,” you sounded drunk, slurring your words, your face in the crook of his neck. 

“What?” 

“Our breeding kinks. You wanna know the thing that fucking got me?” 

“Yeah.” 

Leaning back to look him in the eyes, you told him, “The thought that if I tossed my birth control today, you’d probably have me pregnant by next month.” His cock jerked hard inside you. “I got off on you being fucking virile.” 

His eyes were practically black, licking his lips before he spoke. “We, uh—” He cleared his throat. “—we, uh, could test your theory…?” The hope was there on his face, and it made you feel like utter shit to have to deny him of his dream. This man wanted to be a father so fucking bad, and you more than wanted to make him one. It just wasn’t feasible at this point in time.

You held his face in your hands, stroking your thumbs over his cheeks. 

“Javi, I love you,” you started. “I want to have all of your babies, but as we both know, the apartment is too small for us and a baby. There’s also the whole I want us to be married thing, too.” 

“Pop said we can move in with him while the house is being built, and we’ll be married before a baby is born.” He sounded very sure of himself. 

Your eyebrow lifted. “How are you so positive we’ll be married in less than ten months?” 

He smiled. “Because you pre-accepted my proposal and told me you didn’t want a big wedding.” 

That was something you told him. 

Standing in front of a giant room full of people you actually only knew a fraction of and being the center of attention sounded like a literal nightmare scenario. A tiny wedding with only close friends and family in attendance was something more your speed—hell, eloping seemed like a goddamn dream. 

It hit you then the possibility of how soon the two of you could be married, and excitement bubbled up inside you, doing the first thing that came to mind and kissing him deeply, cradling his smooth cheeks in your palms. His lips were soft and plush, his tongue delving into your mouth with a moan, it turning into one of those kisses that drove you wild. 

You needed to make him feel good. You needed him to feel your love and happiness.

His dick was still throbbing in your pussy, and you started rolling your hips, his hands cupping your backside, keeping you in charge of the rhythm while he assisted in your movements. 

The way he liked it when you were on top was for you to go hard and fast, so you lifted and slammed back down in quick succession. It was slippery between your thighs, his cock sliding easily in and out of your wet heat, the kisses turning messy with how you were moving on him. 

In this position with both of you sitting up, you could get him to come pretty quickly if you sloppily made out with him and occasionally clenched your cunt around his cock; he’d say that was playing dirty if this was a regular romp, but under current circumstances, they were legal maneuvers like how he toyed with your clit and put a finger in your ass. These were all finishing moves that generally only came into play during quickies, though, when he was in the mood to make you come multiple times, he was liberal in their usage—and every time you were about to utilize a move, the fatality screen from Mortal Kombat came to mind, hearing in your brain the announcer say, “Finish Him.” 

His eyebrows were knitted together, and his eyes were closed, the effort he was putting into being quiet causing pitiful whines to escape his throat. He was tense beneath you, every muscle in his body pulled taut like a bowstring close to snapping, and you knew he was almost there, clenching up around him on your downstrokes. 

“‘M close,” he murmured, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your behind and spreading your cheeks while helping you rise and fall.  

“Yeah?” you replied through heavy breaths. “I want you to come for me, Javi.” Your kiss landed on the side of his mouth. “I love you.” This kiss made it onto his lips. “I want to marry you, have your children, and spend the rest of my life with you.” 

He pressed his face into your chest, kissing what he could while you moved up and down—over the tops of your breasts, along your collarbones, up the line of your throat; all the while, he was saying against your skin, “Te amo (I love you). Me voy a casar contigo (I’m going to marry you). Te voy a dar todos los hijos que quieras (I will give you as many children as you want). Voy a pasar el resto de mi vida contigo (I’m going to spend the rest of my life with you). Fuck, te sientes tan bien (you feel so good). Eres perfecta (You’re perfect). No puedo esperar a verte embarazada (I can’t wait to see you pregnant).”  

“Embarazada con tu bebé (Pregnant with your baby),” you panted. 

A strangled noise came from him, shoving his face in your neck to mute it as he pulled you down to completely bury himself inside you. His teeth sunk into the spot where your neck met your shoulder, and you hissed at the pleasurable pain; his dick thickened, feeling it jerk, and the familiar wet pulse of spurts and spurts of his come gushing deep in your depths to fill you. 

You ran your fingers through his sweat-damp hair, his heaving breaths hot against your skin as he soothed over the bite with kisses, your own chest rising and falling rapidly, his arms hugging you close to him. 

The solutions he had so you could have a baby were rolling around in your head, and you wondered if it really would be that easy. 

Chucho would be over the goddamn moon if you guys temporarily moved in with him, and then a baby on top of that? His first nieto (grandchild)? The thing he constantly brought up? Chucho wanted to be a grandfather just as bad as Javi wanted to be a dad, and you knew he’d do anything for you both. 

Why were nerves fluttering around in your belly? You should be ecstatic, but there was a voice in your brain that sounded a lot like your mother pointing out you haven’t even been together a year. For all intents and purposes, you were still in the honeymoon stage of your relationship, and that’d have to end at some point. Would you both still feel the same after a year has passed? Two? Five? Ten? Would he still be as attracted to you after your body changed from pregnancy? 

These questions were stressing you out. 

“Javi?” 

He hummed in reply. 

“You know how you feel about me right now. Do you think you’ll still feel that way in a year?” 

His head came up with his eyebrows pulled together. 

“Yeah?” he answered. 

“What about in two years?” 

He was giving you a look like the answer was obvious. 

“Cielito, I’m gonna love you like this for the rest of my fucking life.” 

Your voice was small, “How can you be sure?” 

His hands had started rubbing comforting circles on your hips, looking at you with a tender gaze. 

“I’m my father’s kid,” he said, “and when we find the person meant for us, that’s it; it’s game over. We dedicate our lives to them, and we love them so fucking deeply we feel it in our souls—this is going to sound stupid, but Pop says we’re penguins.” 

“Penguins?” 

“Yeah, he watched some nature documentary and found out they mate for life—we’re penguins.” 

It made you grin. “That is the absolute cutest shit I have ever heard.” 

He smiled. “I knew you’d like it. Does that make you feel better?” 

“Yes,” you answered truthfully. “We’re mated for life.” 

“Yeah, we are, and I know it’s not gonna be all sunshine and rainbows. We’ll have our ups and downs like all couples do, but there’s no one else I’d rather go through the good and bad with.” The look on his face changed to something unsure. “Do you, uh, think your feelings will change?” 

“I don’t think so. My love for you is so embedded inside me that it sometimes feels like you’ve always been with me, and I just didn’t know. So, I think I’m a penguin, too.” 

He chuckled, leaning in to sweetly kiss you. When his lips left yours, he nuzzled your face. 

“Anything else you need reassurance about?” he gently asked with his nose sliding along yours. 

“Um, the other thing was if you’d still be attracted to my body post-pregnancy…” 

A thing you loved about Javi was how you could basically tell what he was thinking from the expression on his face, and right this second, as he stared at you, he was trying to work out how to politely tell you it was stupid to think he’d find you unattractive after having his baby.

“Are you talking about the body that grew our baby and kept them safe for nine months?” he asked, and yeah, you realized now how dumb it was to think something so absurd. “Yeah, I’m still gonna be attracted to you,” he continued, “the woman I love, who made me a father. I’m not gonna care about stretch marks or if you put on weight or any of the other shit that’ll change. You did something fucking incredible, and honestly, it makes me hard thinking about you being pregnant, so if there are things to remind me of that, I’m probably gonna be all over you constantly. Feel better?” 

That eased your worries. 

“Much.” You gave him a quick peck on the lips. “Thank you. Now, let’s go take a shower.” You started to move, and he stopped you. 

Hope was swirling in his eyes. “Is this a yes to a baby?” 

“This is a maybe on the baby, and we will need to have a long discussion with your father.” 

The smile he gave you was so blinding, you were sure it outshined the sun, a joyous laugh coming from him as he hugged you into his arms and squeezed you tight. 

“I’m so fucking happy.” The emotion was heavy in his voice. “Thank you so much.” He sniffled in your ear. 

Your hands slid over his back. “Don’t thank me yet. It’s not set in stone.” 

He pulled back, his eyes rimmed red, tears falling down his cheeks. 

“No,” he replied. “Thank you for loving me and being with me and wanting to have kids with me. I know it’s not a sure thing, but it’s the fact there’s a chance.” His voice cracked when he said the last word, his shoulders shaking. 

“Oh, babe.” You wrapped your arms around him and held him close to your body. 

This reaction for a maybe made you want to throw all caution to the wind and say fuck it, and just start trying, the rational part of your brain telling you to cool your jets. It was an angel and demon on your shoulders situation, with you leaning toward the baby, and it wasn’t going to help that the two of you would be around children for the next few days. 

The way Javi interacted with Stevie? Almost killed you. He was so sweet, and the child clearly loved him so much it had your ovaries aching. Three days, you were going to have to watch him with the Murphy kids, and you weren’t sure if you were going to survive or keep from throwing your birth control in the trash. 

You had to be strong. 

Javier knew this trip would be important since he was bringing his wif-girlfriend to meet his best friend’s family. He just didn’t expect also to get the news they might be able to start trying for a baby sooner than they had planned. 

Don’t get him wrong, he was excited about having their house built and getting to have a say in the design, but they were looking at twelve to fourteen months before it’d be ready to move into, and he did not want to wait that long to start their family—he was feeling… impatient. He’d already wasted enough of his life, and with him turning fucking forty on Sunday, he’d been plagued with thoughts of how many years he had left above ground. 

A couple of weeks ago, his therapist told him he was having a mid-life crisis, which he scoffed at because he sure as hell wasn’t buying some expensive sports car or chasing women half his age—he outright owned his dependable truck and was more than happy in his amazing and healthy relationship with a woman slightly younger than him. Then the therapist went for his jugular over why he’d begun wrestling with feelings of his mortality and how it started with him planning their trip to Miami and thinking about the Murphys and Cielito. What it boiled down to was he regretted the time he lost to his job and now felt unfulfilled that, at his age, he didn’t have a family of his own like Steve. 

The guy was right, and it annoyed him. 

It gave him a swift kick in the ass to figure out some things, though. 

Like how he went out to his dad’s last Tuesday after work to have a beer with him and ask if he was serious about them living with him if they were ever expecting and their home was still under construction—he said yes, and told Javier when Cielito eventually got pregnant he was planning to turn the guest bedroom into a nursery anyway. 

There was also the ring box he rolled up in a pair of socks tucked away at the bottom of the duffle bag he brought.  

He was ready to make some big changes, and by the end of this trip, he hoped more than anything he’d have a fiancée. 

After he got all of his happy tears out, they kissed and got off of the chair to take a shower, stopping on the way for her to grab her toiletry bag from her luggage. 

They washed each other and stole kisses, his hands wandering over her soapy skin with her giggles echoing in the stall. It didn’t take them very long to finish, going through their after-shower routines to get dry and do their hair. They changed into clean clothes, and he put on a lavender-colored button-up and some jeans, his eyes glued to her ass in the high-waisted denim shorts she was wearing as she bent over to put on her socks. He found himself closing the distance in two long strides to grab her hips, carefully bumping and rubbing the front of his pants against her backside. 

“Are you seriously humping me while I put on my socks?” 

He frowned. “I’m not humping you. You’d know if I was humping you.” 

“Fine. Are you seriously grinding on me while I put on my socks?”

“Maybe…”

She finished what she was doing, her socked feet planted on the floor, standing back up and turning in his arms. 

There was an exasperated look on her face as she smiled. “You’re so fucking ridiculous.” Her arms went around his neck. 

“They’re nice shorts,” he replied, making her laugh when he grabbed handfuls of her ass.

“Well, you’ll be excited to know I only brought shorts and leggings.”

He smirked. “I’m very excited about that.”

“Good. Have we been in here long enough that they’ll believe we showered and napped?”

Checking his watch, he answered, “We’ve been in here about an hour, so I think we’re in the clear.”

The look on her face shifted to something nervous. 

“Do you think we made too much noise?” 

For her comfort, he slid his hands up and down her sides. 

He’d never lie to her, so he told her the truth. “They’re on the opposite side of the house, and between them and us is their master bathroom that’s on the other side of that wall—” He pointed at the wall next to the door to the guest room’s en suite. “—then their walk-in closet, their big fucking bedroom, and finally you’d end up in the kitchen. Unless they used their bathroom or came down the hall to check on the boys, which I doubt because they have the baby monitors, I don’t think they heard anything.” 

“You’re sure?” 

The smile on his face was reassuring. “Yes. I’m not lying, Cielito.” 

She let out a breath, and her body seemed to relax. “Okay, fingers crossed they didn’t hear anything. Let’s head out there.” 

“Bésame antes de irnos, por favor (Kiss me before we go, please),” he said, puckering his lips.

“So polite.” She leaned in to kiss him.

When they separated, he took her hand, leading her out to find his friends. 

They found Steve in the actual living room they used at the back of the house, having to walk through the kitchen and dining room to get to it. There was a massive brown leather sofa in the middle of the room, Steve’s recliner next to it, a coffee table, and a decent-sized television in their entertainment center against the wall in front of the couch that had an abundance of VHS movies aimed towards children, and it looked like Connie had cleaned up after the boys, all of their toys put away in their toy box or back in their designated spots in the part of space designated for the kids. 

Walking in, they were behind the sofa, seeing Steve was watching ESPN and the highlights of a basketball game from the previous night between the Chicago Bulls and Orlando Magic, a beer held in his hand. 

His head turned toward them, his lips turning up in a shit-eating grin. “How’d y'all sleep on the bed?” 

Javier’s eyes narrowed. “Like babies.” 

Cielito moved to stand beside him in his friend’s view. 

Steve sputtered into laughter, and Javier frowned at the sudden outburst. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!” the other man finally said. “Matching shirts?” He looked over at his future wife and her V-neck that was the same lavender color as his, he matched out of habit—all the shirts he brought had counterparts to what she had in her luggage. It was their thing. His friend wiped at his eyes. “Who are you, and what have you done with my asshole of a best friend?”

“I don’t see what the big deal is about us matching,” he replied, crossing his arms. “So what if we like to look good together? Where’s Connie?” 

“Doing laundry.” He nodded toward the door that led to the laundry room, and as if she were summoned, it opened, and she came in holding a large basket full of clothes against her hip with one arm. 

“Oh, great!” she exclaimed. “You’re up!” She paused after shutting the door. “Be honest with me, how bad is the bed? If you can’t sleep on it, I’ll pull out the air mattress.” 

Just the thought of sleeping on an air mattress made Javier’s body ache.  

“It’s pretty squeaky,” Cielito answered. “But we’ll survive. It’s seriously okay.” She waved away the concern.

“If you’re sure.”

Sounds started coming from the baby monitors on the coffee table, Stevie and Nate both in their separate bedrooms calling for their mom.

“Oh,” Connie said. “Looks like the boys are up. I’ll go put the laundry in our bedroom and get them.” 

“Don’t worry about it, Connie,” Javier told her. “I’ll get them.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah,” he replied. “It’s not a problem.” His head turned to the woman next to him. “Do you want to come with me or stay out here?” 

She smiled at him. “I’m sure you can use an extra set of hands—I’ll come with.” 

He nodded with a matching look, taking her hand once more and guiding her back to the hallway where the bedrooms were located. 

First, they stopped in Nate’s room, finding the tiny boy standing at the railing of his crib, crying for his mom. 

“Oh, mi precioso (my precious),” Javier cooed, quickly making his way over and scooping the child up. He held him on his hip, bouncing a little while rubbing his back. “You’re okay, buddy. Shhh, you’re okay. We’ll go see your mom in just a minute.” Turning to look at Cielito, she had a soft expression on her face. “Baby?” She was just staring, and it made him grin. “Mi amor (My love)?” 

She visibly jolted. “Sorry. Yes. Did you say something?”  

“Was trying to get your attention. I need to change his diaper. Do you wanna go get Stevie?” 

“I can get Stevie, yes,” she answered, nodding. “Be right back.” Immediately, she turned and left the room.

Nate had calmed down and wasn’t crying anymore, murmuring mom over and over again with his hand in his mouth. 

“That was your ​​tía (aunt),” he informed the little one as he walked him over to the changing table. “I know you can keep a secret,” he whispered, laying the child on the cushioned top. “I’m gonna propose to her tomorrow.” Grabbing a clean diaper and the wipes from the shelf underneath, he went about changing the toddler. “I figured out how I’m gonna do it last weekend,” he continued talking, his hands working. “So, she’s gonna be your tía, and hopefully soon you’ll have some primos (cousins).” He tossed the dirty diaper into the lidded bin he opened with the foot pedal, the kid now in a clean one as Javier buttoned back up his turquoise onesie with a sleeping long-eared, white, spotted dog on it.  

“Who’s that?” Came his soon-to-be fiancée’s voice from the doorway. He turned his head to see her holding the other boy in her arm while she pointed at him with a smile. 

“Tío!” Stevie shouted, grinning. “Tío and Nate!”

Javier picked up the younger of the two children and smiled. 

“That’s right, buddy,” he said, turning toward them. “Who’s holding you?” 

The three-year-old pressed his finger against Cielito’s chest. “Tía!”

“Good job!” He was close to them now, affectionately ruffling the kid’s dirty blonde hair with his hand and making him laugh. “You’re so smart.” 

Stevie held out his arms to Javier, and he quickly took him in his free arm, both boys sitting comfortably on each of his hips.

“Oh, no,” his future wife breathed, staring at him with wide eyes. 

Concern was etched on his brow. “What?” 

“My ovaries feel like they’re gonna explode.”

“Is that a bad thing…?” He wasn’t sure. 

“For my self-control? Yes. For you getting that thing you want really bad? No.” 

“What thing do I want…?” 

Her answer was to point at Nate, and his heartbeat stuttered, sucking in a breath.

This meant she really was contemplating them not waiting to have a baby, and it made hope swell in his chest. He didn’t want to be an asshole and deliberately wear down her resolve. Still, he also couldn’t control how he usually interacted with the Murphy kids, which apparently was getting to her—it made him happy that she was so affected by him being great with the children. He was beginning to think this trip was going to show her that he’d be a decent father.

He didn’t have a chance to respond, hearing from down the hall in the living room, Olivia shouting, “Is he here?!”

She must’ve just gotten home from school. 

“Sissy’s home!” Stevie exclaimed. 

“It sounds like she is,” Javier replied. “Let’s go see her.” He looked at Cielito. “Ready to meet the oldest?” 

“Yep.” 

Running footsteps could be heard as they made their way out of the room, his wif-girlfriend behind him on their journey toward the sound of voices. The young girl seemed to have run to where her father was in the living room because she came speeding back through the dining room that connected it to the front sitting area and finally found them. 

“Tío!” Olivia had a big grin, missing a couple of baby teeth in the front, throwing her arms around his middle when she reached him, hugging him hard. 

“Hola, mi sobrina (Hi, my niece). Lo siento, no tengo brazos para abrazarte en este momento (I’m sorry, I don’t have arms to hug you right now).”

Steve and Connie felt that Olivia should learn Spanish and had enrolled her in after-school classes for it since she first started going to school. Her dad’s Spanish was shit, and her mom’s wasn’t much better, so any time she needed help with homework she’d call Javier.  

“Está bien (It’s okay). Estoy feliz que estás aquí (I’m happy you’re here).”

Connie was walking up, having come from the kitchen. Nate immediately reached toward her and chanted Mom.

“I’m here, baby,” she said, taking him from Javier and returning to where she’d been. 

With a hand free, he patted Olivia’s back. 

“Hi, Sissy!” Stevie greeted. 

“Hi, Stevie,” she replied. 

“¿Cómo te fue en la escuela (How was school)?” Javier asked the nine-year-old. 

She let go of him to look up and meet his eyes. 

“Bien (Good). Aprendí sobre (I learned about), ¿cómo se dice dinosaurs (how do you say dinosaurs)?”

“Los dinosaurios. ¿Qué te enseñaban sobre los dinosaurios (What did they teach you about dinosaurs)?”

“Oh, my teacher wasn’t teaching us about dinosaurs today,” she said, switching to English. “I don’t know what she was teaching.” The girl shrugged. “I was too busy reading this book I got in the library about dinosaurs.”

He smiled. 

“Which dinosaur is your favorite?” 

“Triceratops! They could take on T-Rexes. I want to look for dinosaur fossils when I’m older!”

“You want to be a paleontologist?” 

She looked confused. “What’s a pale—a palien-tol-gist?”

“Paleontologist,” he said slower. “They’re scientists who study fossils.” 

“Yes, I want to do that!” She nodded enthusiastically. 

“Sissy!” Stevie loudly called, bouncing in Javier’s hold. “Sissy!” 

“Yes, Stevie?” 

“Tía’s gonna make cookies with me!” 

Confusion was on her face again. “Tía?” 

It made him realize he hadn’t introduced the young girl to his other half. 

“Yes, your tía,” Javier told her and moved the toddler from one arm to the other so he could wrap the free one around Cielito’s waist. “Olivia, I want you to meet the woman I’ve told you about who I’m gonna marry.” He introduced her to Cielito. 

“Oh! Cielito!” She looked over at the older woman. “Hi!” She waved.

Cielito was smiling. “Hi,” she replied. “It’s nice to meet you, Olivia.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, too. I wanna make cookies! What kind?”

“Chocolate chip.” 

“My favorite!” 

“Mine, too.” 

“Cookies!” Stevie shouted, making Javier snort and his future wife giggle. 

“Better head to the kitchen,” Javier said. 

“Yeah,” Cielito responded. “Let’s all go make cookies. You too, Olivia.” 

“Yes!” The girl did little jumps of excitement. 

In the kitchen, they found the ingredients for the cookies waiting for them on the counter, Connie having already gotten them out along with measuring cups and spoons, a large bowl, and an electric hand mixer. Hands were washed, including Stevie’s, who had a little stool to stand on so he could help as well as a toddler could. 

Cielito entranced the children as she walked them through step by step how to make the cookie dough, and Javier left the room for only a minute to run to the bedroom and grab his camera. 

She had Stevie in front of her on the stool, holding the toddler’s little hand to help him scoop the flour and sugar into the bowl, and Olivia next to her. She showed the young girl how to crack the eggs, and when they got to adding the chocolate chips, they all took handfuls to snack on—and through it all, Javier took pictures, getting candids of them laughing and others where he asked them to look and smile at him, Stevie always grinning big and saying cheese. 

Baking with a three-year-old was chaotic with how he wanted to touch and get into everything, but Cielito handled it like a champ and had the patience of a saint. 

It all had him thinking about their future, easily picturing her doing this same thing with their own kids. It reminded him of how some of his favorite memories growing up were cooking with his mom, and it made his eyes burn that his children would get to have similar experiences.

What he has known, and was being proven right, was he’s found his perfect match and the person he was supposed to spend his life with. 

From the moment he met her, there was something about her, some kind of pull—he was drawn to her like a moth to a flame, and as he got to know her, she engulfed him, and he fell hard. After their first date, on his drive home, he experienced something new: he imagined what his future would look like with her in it. A lifetime played out in his mind of them dating, getting engaged, married, buying a house, getting a dog, and he’d never felt so much hope before. 

He didn’t think he had a chance in hell to make it a reality. He was positive he’d fuck it up before the third date. 

By some miracle, he didn’t. 

When he thought about those first few dates, the second was when he fell in love with her—that was when he knew she was it. By the third date, he knew he was going to marry her. 

A thing about Javier was when he put his mind to something, he got it done, and he didn’t like to waste time—this evidently also included relationships. He fucked up when he said he’d propose on their anniversary because there was no way he was going to be able to wait that long—and he cracked quicker than an egg hitting a wall. 

How could he not when she was so perfect?

Life was dull before her, empty; he always felt like something was missing. She was what was missing, filling that space inside him, turning everything vibrant and lively. There were an infinite number of ways their lives could’ve played out, and he knew in every single one the path he chose would always lead him back to her—they were meant to find each other. 

His love for her burned brighter than the brightest star in the night sky, and she was a part of him now—he could feel her burrowed deep down in his bones to the point there was no him without her any longer. She was his first and the only love of his life; there was no one before, and there wouldn’t be anyone after because she was the one for him. 

And when he held her, he held the entire world in his arms. 

She was his world. 

She was everything. 

And in less than twenty-four hours, she would hopefully say yes when he asked a particular question while holding a ring. 

Until then, he’d try to stay calm while watching her interact with his friend’s kids and ignore how his chest was filled with so much happiness he thought it might burst. These glimpses of what she’ll be like as a mother were driving him crazy, and it was taking everything in him not to haul her back to the bedroom and show her how much he loved it—they couldn’t, anyway, with the kids wanting to spend time with them and the damn bed. Fucking Steve.

He didn’t want to rile himself up, so he’d do his best to avoid thinking about her being the mother of his children or how earlier she said maybe to a baby.

Who was he kidding? It was all he could think about, and he was dying to get her alone.

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[bellofthemeadow]

Dawn Ends the Night - Chapter 3

Aemond Targaryen x FemReader (Dayne)

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Rating: M for Mature (18 + no minors allowed)

Word Count: 4.7K

Warning: All warnings on the Series Masterlist, will update if necessary (Re-iterating, no minors allowed! Thank you)

Chapter Summary: The aftermath of the attack sees Prince Aemond wrestle with new feelings.

Notes: Hello everyone, I hope you are all enjoying this chaotic posting schedule just as much as I am!!! I am back with a new chapter, a little window into Aemond's very messy mind. That man is a softboy at heart, he just needs like 20 years of therapy. RN its the beginning of a slight "obsession" as our boy for the first is feeling... something that is not murder, or hatred, or the need to burn everything with Vhagar. So yeah.

Like always thank you to everyone who reblogged and commented I love interacting with y'all and I really hope that you enjoy this chapter 💜💜💜

Taglist: @duds31 , @snh96, @lol-im-done, @heavenly1927, @whimsywilde , @queen-123s-posts

Through your Eyes

In the silence of his bedchamber, Aemond's pulse raced like the chained dragons lagering in the dragon pit, its beat echoing from the cavern of his chest to the very tips of his fingers, awakening the primal blood-rage that slept within his Targaryen blood. The air around him trembled with his ragged breaths, each one a stormy gust tearing through the otherwise stillness of the room. Alone, he wrestled with his armor, the leather stained with the day's deadly encounter. He would need to get the leather treated so the blood wouldn’t leave its reddish mark, Aemond thought with annoyance.  His hands, though shaking with a fury he struggled to contain, methodically peeled away each layer, dismissing the need for a manservant's aid. This was his ritual of solitude, after a lost fight in the yard with Ser Criston, or an annoying dinner with Aegon, Aemond needed to take a moment to confront the tempest within, a moment to try and tame the dragon. 

“My thanks for saving us” your sweet words echoed in Aemond’s brain like the hymns his mother had once insisted he memorize, trapped in his mind – relentless in their grab for his undivided attention. Although he had just met you earlier (had it only been 3 hours?) each detail was etched into his memory with unnerving clarity —the putrid stench of Flea Bottom that now seemed to permeate his very being and clung all the way to his smallclothes, the satisfying melody of the guard's screams echoes loud as he replays  the moment he severed the man's hand from his foul body; an act of true dragon-justice.  

 Your eyes. 

Those eyes, captivating and raw, rimmed with red, their watery sheen reflecting a tumult of fury and fear. It was a look Aemond rarely witnessed in others, but they were a mirror to the emotions he often grappled with in his daily solitude. Staring into his own reflection, he was accustomed to seeing the same intensity in his sole eye, the other a remnant of his past, a void where fear once dwelled. Now, that fear was often overshadowed by a simmering fury, a relentless fire that had become his constant companion. Yet, in your gaze, he saw the fear and anger, a young bird still scared of an unknown, cruel world – but oh so angry and unwilling to get yourself drag down by its cruelty.  

Since coming back to the keep after he had settled the matter at the market, Aemond’s mind was inexorably drawn back to the market, to the moment he first laid eyes on you. He had not needed anyone to point you out; he knew who you were from the second he saw you, holding that little boy who was clinging onto you like the barnacles that littered the rocks in blackwater bay.  

Seeing you so small yet standing so tall in the shadow of the guard’s golden cloak, he had only seen the resolve and desire to protect; for Aemond, it was like a visceral pull that transcended mere sight that had drawn him to you, like he was being pulled with a thight string attached to his heart.And in the dirt of Flea Bottom, you had stood cloaked in a gown of gauzy lilac in a style of dress he had never seen at court. The sheerness of the sleeves and the plunge of the loose bodice defied the strict, colorless conventions of the court and in a way that would surely raise his mother's brow in disapproval. But Aemond did not care for what was proper, as when he freed the man’s body from its hand, he only longed to take you in his arms, to press the silky fabric of your gown, under which he knew luscious curves hid, between his fingertips.  

Aemond closed his eyes trying to imagine what you would feel like in his arms, he could almost feel it if he concentrated enough - were he a bold man, Aemond would have tugged on the fabric of your dress to bring you closer to him, to hold you tight. Not for unseemly reasons as you were still his betrothed, a lady of noble birth at that, and he was no Aegon. It was hard to admit it to himself, but all he wanted was to inhale the sweet citrusy scent he had caught when you had tied the purple scrap of silk to his bicep.  

Aemond unwound the fabric from his arm with a tenderness that echoed the way his mother handled her most precious emerald necklace, an heirloom passed down from his grandmother. She cherished it so deeply that she allowed only herself to touch or clean it, guarding it like a dragon hoarding its treasure. But to Aemond, this simple piece of purple cloth was infinitely more valuable than any gems or riches that lay in the royal vault; it was the only tangible thread linking him to you. Through this favor, you were his and he was yours, bonded through blood and silk. He hoped one day he could shower you in trinkets; ruby-red necklaces, perhaps paired with a green samite gown, or freshwater pearls jewelery ; he had heard that Riverrun made amazing hairnet with them  –Aemond could not help but smile at the thought of you outfitted with tokens from him, all would know that you belonged to him.  

Aemond let the fabric dance lightly between his fingertips and bringing the scarf closer, he tentatively pressed it against his nose, inhaling deeply. The fragrance was faint, a hint of your presence as if you had only briefly held the fabric in your grasp. Frustration flickered within him as he sought more of your scent, breathing in with an intensity born of deep longing and desire. Aemond was no stranger to yearning; his life was a testament to insatiable hunger - for recognition, for greatness, for respect, and for the Iron Throne. His brother, with his lecherous appetite and penchant for debauchery, and his older sister who is always entangled in a web of deceit with her brood of Strong bastards, were both underserving of what should have been rightfully Aemond.  

Yet, as he held the fabric close to his face, Aemond felt his greed transform from ugly and covetous to an all-encompassing desire to protect and care. He yearned not for accolades or crowns, but for the intimacy of your existence in his arms. Indeed, Aemond was a greedy man, and at that moment, he longed to truly have you, to have your scent permeate his skin. The mere thought of burying his face in your hair, drawing in the essence of your being, became a need that tugged at his very core. He almost scoffed at his thoughts, to think that the dragonrider of Vhagar would be reduced to a puddle of quivering emotions! If, when his mother first informed him of his betrothal, Aegon had told him that in barely a moon's turn he would desire nothing more than the simple pleasure of his betrothed's closeness, to breathe in the sweet aroma, he would have throttled his idiot brother. But you had ensnared him – a simple instant in your presence, a look from your beautiful eyes and he was yours. What a mess he was.  

Closing his eyes, Aemond did his best to recall the delicate touch of your hands as they had wrapped the fabric around his arm. The feeling of your delicate fingers resonated deep within him, intimate and gentle, unlike any he had ever experienced. The soft pressure of your fingers against his skin, the careful way you secured the scarf, it all felt like a silent promise, I shall care for you, my lord husbands. Words Aemond yearned to hear falling from your plush lips.  

Under the tender scrutiny of your eyes, Aemond felt a man transformed; Gone was the bitter sting of being known as 'Aemond the Dragonless' or 'Aemond-who-sends-the-maids-crying.' Instead, he felt seen as who he should have been, had fate not cruelly snatched away his eye – a true dragon prince, deserving of admiration and respect. Deserving of a crown, even if his weak father refused to admit it.  

"Prince Aemond!" The call from Ser Criston echoed forcefully through the door, breaking the stillness of the chamber and brought Aemond from his musings. Huffing, Aemond groaned in displeasure, he could understand now why Aegon stopped his sword training - Ser Criston did have the worst of timing. Maybe if he held his breath, Ser Criston would go away. He waited a minute, but the pounding restarted; Of course, he would not go away, the knight was relentless.  

"Just a moment," Aemond replied tersely.  

"The Queen requests your presence immediately, my prince. The matter is urgent, so please make haste my prince" came Ser Criston's insistent voice from the other side. 

Aemond groaned before swiftly splashing cool water across his face, feeling it's refreshing touch against his skin and hastily pulling a tunic over his head, covering his bare chest. There would be time for a proper bath later in the evening, before dinner and the official presentation of his betrothed to court, he reasoned. 

His fingers then reached for the purple silk and carefully he tied it around his wrist, positioning it high enough to remain concealed beneath the folds of his jerkin. Though hidden from view, its presence was a secret comfort, a reminder that he did not dream you – that you existed, in flesh and blood.  

Aemond flung the door open, his movements brusque, revealing the stern figure of Ser Criston Cole. The knight looked annoyed; his lips downturned in displeasure. Without exchanging words, Aemond began striding towards his mother’s solar, the path so familiar that he required no guidance, least of all from his mother’s shadow. 

"The Queen is quite agitated, my prince," Ser Criston broke the silence, his voice echoing down the dimly lit corridor. "She has been informed of the incident at the market and is... less than pleased." 

Aemond's steps faltered, his fists clenching at his sides, he knew it was coming, he just had not imagined it would happen so soon, although it made sense as Alicent had many eyes and ears all over the city. Aemond looked at Ser Criston before rolling his eye, the knight had no doubt babbled the second he had reached his mother's vicinity. The thought of disappointing his mother tightly squeezed at his heart, with gritted teeth, Aemond let out a noncommittal grunt in a thinly veiled effort to maintain composure. Ser Criston, however, persisted. "In light of the current tensions at court, such a public display of violence was... ill-advised, to say the least. For a prince of the realm to act so rashly..." 

Stopping abruptly, the torchlight casting long shadows that danced on the walls, Aemond turned sharply, his eyes a stormy sea of frustration and barely contained rage. "And what would you have had me do, Ser Criston? Stand by while that animal threatened my betrothed with cold steel? Be grateful I let him leave with his life." 

Ser Criston's demeanor remained stoic, attempting to soothe the prince's anger. "These are indeed trying times, my prince. But your betrothed should not have found herself in such a predicament. A lady of her station venturing away from her escort raises questions about her discretion. Such behavior could bring unforeseen troubles to our doorstep..." 

Aemond's voice cut through the air, sharp as Valyrian steel. "I severed the hand that dared harm her. What do you think I would do to the tongues of those who dare tarnish her name?" 

Ser Criston's expression flickered, a brief moment of uncertainty crossing his face. "My prince, I did not mean to imply—" 

"I know exactly what you implied," Aemond interjected, his voice laced with a cold venom. He unconsciously reached to his right arm where he knew your favor was hidden, touching it to bring your bravery to his words. "Remember your place, Ser Criston. As much as you are a valued member of this household and as much as I have always considered you to be a great mentor, I will not tolerate any slight against my betrothed. Is that clear?" 

"Yes, my prince," Ser Criston conceded, the strain in his voice evident. "I shall be more mindful." 

With a curt nod, Aemond turned away and, as he moved through the corridors, passing servants and knights alike, he noticed their efforts to avoid meeting his gaze. It was a dance he had grown accustomed to, yet today, it felt more pronounced as it made the hole beneath the eye-patch throbbed. Trying to keep the pain at bay, he imagined you at his side holding his hand and giving a sweet reassuring smile. It seemed to help somewhat as the pain started subsiding, leaving in its wake only the feeling of emptiness. It would do for now.  

 Reaching the door to the Queen's solar, Aemond paused, collecting his thoughts. He had hoped that by now, his usual icy composure would have resettled over him like a familiar cloak, that the fiery dragon within would have been tamed and subdued. Yet, beneath his skin, a prickling heat lingered, a reminder of the inferno that had coursed through his veins earlier. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself for the encounter ahead. The comforting memory of your grateful eyes had to be set aside, replaced with the bracing reality of his mother's scrutiny. 

Aemond gently rapped on the door and after a brief pause, one of his mother's handmaidens opened the door, allowing him and Ser Criston to enter the room. Inside, Queen Alicent, adorned in a dress of her usual striking green, paced before a large window. Her anxiety was palpable, evidenced by the way she gnawed at her cuticles, some of which were surrounded by tiny specks of blood where she had bitten too deeply.  

Aemond felt a pang of shame tighten in his gut. He was rather unaccustomed to being the source of his mother's disappointment. Throughout his life, she had always shown him a particular kind of attention, especially during his more vulnerable, bullied childhood years when he did not have a dragon to stop people (Aegon) from mocking him. Displeasing Queen Alicent was not something he took lightly. His gaze swept across the room, and Aemond noticed the unusual absence of Otto Hightower, which was odd as the man always had a way to immerse himself in every family discussion. 

Aemond's thoughts were shattered by the sharp rebuke of his mother. "Aemond, for the love of the Seven, what possessed you?" Queen Alicent's voice might have sounded stern and strict to the uneased ear, but Aemond could hear a pinch of desperation. "To attack and dismember a gold cloak in full view of the public. Do you realize the talk this will incite!?" Her eyes, usually so full of maternal warmth reserved for him, now bore into him with a sternness that made him inwardly flinch. 

The smoldering embers of Aemond's anger flared up once more, and he met his mother's gaze with his own steely look – the one that made grown man shudder. "Mother, that man was a disgrace to his cloak. He was assaulting the woman who is to be my wife, threatening her life. He was a beast, unworthy of his position and of the gold on his back. By intervening, I not only did what was necessary to protect my intended, but I restored the name of the King in the eyes of the people of King’s Landing. I will not apologize for my actions as I was under the impression that Lady Dayne, being betrothed to a prince, would be under the protection of our house. It seems I was mistaken. Perhaps I should have allowed her to be stripped naked and beaten for all of Flea bottom to see, would this have been more appropriate?!" 

Queen Alicent, her fingers once again finding their way to her mouth, bit her nails nervously. With a weary sigh, she approached Aemond, her hands reaching out to gently grasp his arms. "Aemond, you misunderstand my concern," she began, her voice tinged with fatigue. "Your actions in defending your betrothed were commendable, but the manner in which you executed them... it is the brutality of it that troubles me. Such a display of violence and cruelty, it's not befitting a prince of your stature." 

Aemond's response came with a touch of bitterness, "Mother, the people of King’s Landing have always viewed me as a monster. What I did today is likely mild in comparison to what they all believe me capable of. And frankly, the man got off lightly. Had it been solely up to me, I would have fed him to Vhagar without a second thought." 

Queen Alicent's sigh was heavy. "Aemond, please," she implored. "I understand your urge to protect your future wife, but you have not even properly met her, your reaction was..." 

"You understand nothing," Aemond interjected sharply, his voice rising with indignation. "My name is Aemond Targaryen! NOT Aemond Hightower and I will uphold the words of my house, 'Fire and Blood,' in dealing with any who threaten us. And that includes Lady Dayne, from the moment Ggrandfather arranged for our betrothal. " 

Alicent's expression turned grave, her gaze unyielding "Is that truly your desire, Aemond? To be remembered as another Maegor the Cruel? To walk the same dark path as your uncle, the rogue that all the nobility of the realm scorns? What legacy do you wish to leave – Aemond the Monstrous? Aemond the Brutal?" 

Aemond winced upon his mother's words – Aemond the monstruous? A bitter retort escaped his lips, "Perhaps I do want that. Perhaps if they called me 'Aemond the Cruel' openly as they all think it, my dear older sister would reconsider herself, parading her bastards as if they were legitimate heirs, worthy of the throne." 

Queen Alicent took a deep, steadying breath, her eyes closing momentarily in a silent plea for patience. She released Aemond's arms, turning away from him, her posture one of weary resignation. "I only wish that you would remember the lessons of mercy taught by the Mother," she said softly. "I understand your anger, Aemond, but you must see that there are alternatives to your actions. Violence, war, death – these are not the sole answers to all our difficulties." 

Aemond felt sour upon his mother’s words, had she always been so blind? "And what would be the 'appropriate' answer, mother, when Rhaenyra learns of your plans with Grandfather? When she discovers your intention to crown Aegon over her?" 

"Aemond, please," Alicent implored, but he pressed on relentlessly. 

"Do you truly believe she will simply just accept it? Do you not see that war and violence are already at our doorstep? Is this not why you arranged my marriage to Lady Dayne – to secure Dorne's support when conflict inevitably breaks out? Consider how our position would weaken if I had allowed the first Dornish lady on our soil since the conquest to be abused on the streets of King's Landing. Prince Quoren might have renounced our alliance entirely. And then what, Mother? Whom would you have me marry? A distant Beesbury cousin? Perhaps some lesser Velaryon to challenge Lord Corlys? What would your grand strategy be, mother?" 

Alicent remained silent, her figure still and composed, even as the tension in the room thickened. Aemond felt like a snarling dragon, spewing fire at the calm and poised figure of his mother – but a dragon could burn down a tower if needed. From his vantage point in the corner, Ser Criston, who had been observing the exchange in silence, finally spoke up, his voice stern. "Prince or not, you will show the proper respect when addressing the Queen." 

Alicent's voice was calm, final. "It is alright, Ser Criston. My son is evidently still distressed from today's events. You may leave us, Aemond." She did not turn back to look at Aemond, her gaze fixed somewhere distant. 

"Mother," Aemond uttered, the anger was still there, but a deep feeling of regret was starting to tightnened in his troath – he had never spoken to his mother this. Had always revered her as the woman who had always loved him, would always love and cherish him, eyes or no eyes. The woman who had taken his side on Driftmark, who had been willing to draw blood for him. So why was he so angry? Because you know of another woman who would have taken your side on Driftmark now, a smooth voice whispered in his mind. He could imagine Lady Dayne, except instead of the little street urchin clinging to you, it was him – holding you as you were soothing him and urling insults to the Strong. Nevertheless, although Aemond knew he had won the argument, the victory was hollow and left a bitter taste in his mouth.  

As Aemond stormed out of his mother's solar, the door slammed shut with a force that was quite petulant and wholly unbefitting of his princely demeanor. The urge to visit Vhagar tugged at him; her presence, the soothing texture of her scales, and the smoldering depths of her yellow eyes often brought him solace in tumultuous times. Soaring through the skies on her back, he found unparalleled freedom, a sense of true self that grounded him amidst the chaos of court life. But today, his steps wavered, his usual path to where Vhagar rested, momentarily forgotten. 

A different impulse guided him instead, steering his course through the corridors of the castle. He caught sight of a maid, her steps quick and purposeful towards the kitchens. In a swift motion, Aemond reached out, his hand gently but firmly grasping her arm. His voice, though laced with the lingering storm of his recent encounter, carried a softer edge. "Tell me, where in the castle is the Dayne retinue lodging?" 

The maid, attempting to maintain her composure, did everything to avoid the intense gaze of his solitary eye, stuttered her reply. "In... the west wing, my prince," she managed, her voice barely above a whisper. With a nod of acknowledgement, Aemond released her, his mind now set on a new destination. 

Navigating the labyrinth of corridors towards the West wing, Prince Aemond was in a whirlwind as each step he took was shadowed by uncertainty - would you be there in your quarters? And if so, would you welcome his presence? He wondered if the radiant spark that had lit your eyes earlier, the one that had captivated him so completely, would still shine when faced with him alone. Doubt nagged at him, whispering questions of whether you might prefer solitude over his company. He shook his head, none of it mattered; the second-guessing, the fear. He needed to see you, to lay eyes on you and ensure your well-being. These thoughts propelled him towards your quarters, and he felt more like a dragon than ever before, like a great beast tracking its prey before feasting – unrelenting, with a singular purpose. You.  

As Prince Aemond neared the West wing, he was met with a contingent of guards adorned with the Dayne sigil – a white fallen star against a field of lilac. A frown marred his features. Where had these men been when you needed them most? "I wish to see my betrothed." Aemond’s tone left no place for arguments. 

However, one of the guards, an older man with a graying beard and sharp brown eyes, appeared unmoved by Aemond's royal status and instead eyed the prince distrustfully. "The lady is currently resting after a taxing day... My prince" The last part was definitely added as an afterthought. 

Bastard, Aemond thought angrily, did he not know he was speaking to a prince? How dare this commoner (who had let harm come to you) come between him and his need to see you! Aemond's sneer was barely concealed. "I'm well aware of her trying day, as I was present," he retorted, trying to quell the anger that pulsed in his veins. "Is it a Dornish custom then, that betrothed couples cannot converse? Especially after one of the party saved the other. Quite a peculiar custom if you ask me." 

Another younger guard grumbled “Not as much as fucking your siblings...” If Aemond was not so consumed with thoughts of you, he would have had whipped this guard for the insolence.  

The older guard's expression soured further, his eyes narrowing. "Given today’s events, where one of your men assaulted our lady, you'll understand my prince,” definitely a sneer” “Our caution.”  

"And the man responsible has been dealt with," Aemond countered firmly, his gaze unwavering. 

The standoff continued for a tense moment before the older guard relented under Aemond's intense gaze. For once, Aemond was quite satisfied that his one eye could make even the fiercest of men grow uncomfortable, it helped to get his bidding done. The guard led the prince to a corner door and knocked briskly. "My lady, Prince Aemond is here to see you," he announced. 

The response came in the form of your familiar, melodious voice, which had haunted Aemond's thoughts throughout the day. "Come in!" you called out, and Aemond felt a mixture of relief and apprehension as he prepared to enter. 

Upon opening the room, Aemond was met with a scene quite unexpected. There you were, center stage in the spacious chamber, having exchanged your earlier attire for a strikingly different ensemble. You were adorned in a long, elegant purple tunic with short sleeves that left your arms gracefully exposed. Underneath, a pair of voluminous white breeches reached down to your calves, leaving the lower parts of your legs exposed. Aemond gulped loudly at the sight of you, he had never seen a young lady dressed in such a manner. Were all Dornish ladies such beautiful women, who scorned proper attire? Were all Dornish ladies so... enticing? No, Aemond thought decidedly, you must be one of a kind, a lone bright star in the otherwise dark skies of his life.  

Yet, it was the action before him that truly caught him off guard. You were in the midst of a tussle with the same young boy from earlier - Daven, was it? You were attempting to apply soap to his hair, a task he seemed to be resisting with all the vigor a 5-year-old boy could muster. On the large bed nearby, another boy of a similar age sat, munching on a bright red apple, his eyes wide with fascination as he observed the struggle. 

“My Lady... Am I... Bothering you? Aemond muttered, at a lost feeling like he might be intruding on such a strange, yet merry moment.”  

Your smile bloomed like a desert rose at dawn, eyes sparkling with the kind of joy that one might associate with discovering a long-lost treasure, or seeing a long-lost friend... Or lover. Gently, you shifted the still-pouting boy in your arms to face Aemond, calling to him with a warmth that melted the icy barriers around the prince's heart. "Look, Davos! Our brave prince who saved us earlier has come to see us!" The boy, Davos, offered a shy smile and a timid wave, his earlier resistance forgotten in the presence of his hero. 

Aemond felt an unfamiliar flush of warmth spread across his cheeks under your gaze, filled with gratitude and something deeper, something that seemed to stir the very core of his being. The usual fire that raged within him, driving his every ambition and desire, seemed to simmer down into a comforting warmth, a feeling he couldn't quite place but didn't wish to escape. 

His heart pounding a rapid rhythm, Aemond offered a slight bow. "Might I be of assistance, my Lady?" 

Your response came with an infectious beam. "Another pair of hands would be most welcome." 

Positioning himself to be of help, Aemond muttered, "Guide me to where I can be most useful, my Lady." 

With a soft and tender smile, you replied, "I believe, my prince, that you are perfect just where you are." 

Perfect right where he is?  

Aemond would never leave your side, nothing would ever tear from you and you from him. The Gods had always scorned him since his childhood, this was payment. His due. You were his and he was yours from this day until the end of his days.  

Next chapter

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen x ofc #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond x oc #aemond targaryen x fem!oc #fanfic #fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond fic #ewan nation #ewan mitchell #ewanverse #alicent hightower #criston cole #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond angst

[sixeyesgojo]

jjk characters handling your period

Summary: “What do you mean, no baby this month either? Okay, suffer then.” - your damn uterus

Pairings: Gojo/Megumi/Nanami/Naoya/Toji x Reader

Content warning: the monthly bloody nightmare your uterus puts you through and the whole shebang that comes with it, language warning, suggestive themes, explicit warning for Toji (you’ll see why)

A/N: purely self-indulgent because I suffer. @megumifushi and @sukirichi , my gals, I gotcha. Also dedicated to all readers who suffer from the same fate (may it be right now or not). Also: Yes, absolutely open the video I linked in Megumi’s part (it’s safe, I promise).

Gojo Satoru

You turn and turn in bed uncomfortably. Something isn’t right, you think and it’s not the fact that Satoru is missing next to you. Not knowing immediately irritates you. All of a sudden you become painfully aware of your lower region. Yes, of course it had to be that time of the month. You just knew you already stained your panties and perhaps the sheets haven’t been spared either. Getting out of bed, then realizing it was already past noon, you sprinted to the bathroom. Fuck, moving fast was not a good idea. 

Having changed the sheets and your stained panties, you made your way to the kitchen. Your stomach growled, signaling you were hungry, but at the same time you feared. Smelling food, let alone tasting too much of it, was a slippery slope – either your nose would protest or your stomach, no in-between. Regardless, you had to eat; or were you supposed to starve to death because of this? Not in this lifetime. “I AM BACK!” an annoyingly loud voice rang through the apartment. You groan and turn around. “Fuck off, Satoru,” you say. Your irritation flaring up for seemingly no reason. “Stop being so motherfucking loud. My head feels like it’s going to split in two and my pussy is fighting the crimson war right now,” you snarled at him.

“Oh honey, seems like I called the right shots then,” he declared proudly and held up a bag filled with... snacks? “I already called in sick for you for the next few days,” Satoru continued to explain as he wrapped his arms around you, “and I’ll be by your side 24/7 for the next two days. We’ll do fun stuff. How does movie night with lots of cuddling for tonight sound?”

“Why are you so nice to me right now?” you mumbled, tears welling up in your eyes. “Simple: I don’t want to be castrated by you,” he whispered back and planted a kiss on your cheek. “Fair enough. What will we do tomorrow?” He stayed silent but pulled out a black card out of his sleeve. You gasped.

Fushiguro Megumi

Ping. A notification. Quickly, you scrambled to get your phone to see what that was about. You desperately needed some distraction right now. The pain was too much. Your boyfriend Megumi had gone somewhere you didn’t know. All you knew was that your boobs were sore, the sensitive nipples rubbing against the fabric were already too much. In addition to that, you also experienced period cramps, resulting in back pain as well. Life was not easy at the moment but at least you could lay in bed for today, doing absolutely nothing.

Unlocking your phone, you saw a new message from Yuji: “omg look at this???” [Video link] It was a video of 42 seconds. There was a cute seal – probably the cutest and fluffiest seal you have ever seen – and background music. It may have only lasted 42 seconds but it definitely triggered some happy feelings inside you; it was so pure and you loved the energy of the clip. Perhaps these feelings were a bit too intense and overwhelming. Tears streamed down your face and you started sobbing uncontrollably. Why were you like this? It wasn’t even a sad video, was it?

You buried your face in the blankets, weeping as if someone just broke up with you. Through your loud crying, you did not notice the door opening. A jangling noise could be heard from your nightstand. Instantly, you shot up to check for intruders but luckily, it was Megumi. A frown spread on his face. “What happened?” he asked as his thumbs wiped your tears from your cheeks. You showed him the video, still sobbing, “Look at the seal... It’s so c-cute. I just... got emotional because it really t-traveled the world. This cutie deserves the whole world...”

“And so do you,” he bluntly stated, “now take the ibuprofen I brought you for the cramps and rest up.” As a matter of fact, he not only brought you painkillers but a hot water bottle and food as well.

Nanami Kento

“No, give me that. Lay down and rest. I can dust off the shelves on my own,” his deep voice commanded. If there was a man that screamed “male wife” it was definitely Nanami Kento, particularly when it came to you being on your period. You weren’t allowed to do anything in the house, except for very light chores. With good reason. “Kento, I can do–” Yeah, no, it wasn’t possible and Kento knew it too well.

You weren’t lucky when it came to period symptoms. Besides excruciating back pain, extremely sore breasts and headaches, you also had the luck to suffer from dizziness every single time you experienced the monthly nuisance. The first time you even passed out. In fact, it had happened several times. And that was precisely how Kento decided to not let you do anything. Still, you felt bad to leave everything to Kento. His work already demanded so much from him and here you were, being babied and even spoon-fed. You didn’t even have to cook your own meals or wash and iron laundry.

You had barely said those words when the unwelcome whirling sensation took you over again. Your feet wobbled, you were in danger of crashing to the ground. In a flash, Kento was by your side to steady you. “I told you not to overdo it.” He cupped your cheek with his warm hand. “Sorry, Kento. I’ll... just rest for a minute.”

Zenin Naoya

Period pain? Laughable. Naoya thought it was pathetic. A woman – these already weak creatures – having period symptoms was a mystery to him. What could possibly hurt about bleeding a little? He couldn’t understand. Your pitiable and sorry state was only another inconvenience to him. Not that you hindered him in any way – you were obedient enough to be quiet and complain as little as possible – but he absolutely despised seeing that annoying expression of pain on your face every time he had to look at it.

Hell, he didn’t even want to engage in sexual activities with you during that time, even though he had randomly picked up somewhere that it might help. Not that he wanted to help you, it was your problem and yours only, not his. “Stop looking at me with those eyes. It’s disgusting,” he remarked condescendingly as he got dressed for wherever he had to go. “When will you be back?” you croaked out but he totally ignored you.

“Women are so damn weak. It’s so fucking pathetic, I almost want to give you a hug,” Naoya gagged. He was about to leave the room but stopped in his tracks. Looking over his shoulder, he caught a glimpse of your face that was contorted with pain. In long strides, he made it to one of the cabinets, fished out a tiny box and threw it on the bed. “Tsk, you better get well soon so you can serve me again, dumb bitch.”

Fushiguro Toji (soft)

Work hadn’t been treating him kindly: not yesterday, not today, not ever. Although he was highly capable and never failed to exceed himself, all Toji truly wanted to do was to go home. When he finally made it through the door, he called out, “Am home.” Usually, you would come running to greet him but when nothing but silence greeted him, his hand instantly moved to the cursed creature lingering on his shoulder. It was suspicious. Did enemies manage to find this hideout? Where were you? His hands started sweating.

Stealthily, he approached the kitchen. To his surprise, he saw your form in front of the counter, hunched over in pain. Dropping his offensive stance immediately, he quickly strode over to check on you. “Hey, what are you doing there?” he asked, hesitatingly putting a hand on your shoulder. You looked at him, grimacing with pain, “Oh, Toji. I didn’t realize you were home yet. Sorry, I’m not done cooking dinner yet, I just feel so nauseous, exhausted and my entire back  and shoulders hurt so much. It’s so sore.” “I see.” He nodded, understanding what was happening. Suddenly, he lifted you effortlessly. You squealed, “Toji!! What are you doing?!” “Taking care of you,” he promised. “But dinner!” “Don’t care.”

Making his way to the bedroom, Toji laid down with you on top of him. Something about his warmth already made you feel better but as his large palms rubbed your back in circular motions, you felt as if you were in heaven. Toji’s ministrations soothed the pain so well, you almost let out a moan. Now that the pain didn’t overshadow all the other symptoms anymore, the drowsiness took over. “Toji, ‘m tired,” you mumbled; eyelids fluttering already. “Then sleep. I’ll take care of dinner later,” he whispered. You only hummed in response, already far too gone. Slowly but surely, his steady heartbeat lulled you to sleep. “Sleep tight.”

Taglist: @megumifushi​ @gojos-mochi​ @assbuttbaek​ @bleueluna​ 

#gojo x reader #megumi x reader #nanami x reader #naoya x reader #toji x reader #gojo satoru #fushiguro megumi #nanami kento #zenin naoya #fushiguro toji #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen naoya #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #tw: period talk #tw: periods #tw: menstruation

[loth-wolffe]

If you are still taking requests from the song list, I believe it was 41, but if not I know it was “They Dont Know About Us” by One Direction.

And I was wondering if you could do it for Crosshair perhaps?? Like reader and him are in a relationship and the rest of the batch doesn’t know because they up hold an “I hate” cover around them still??

-🌪

hIYA! (a million years later, sorry @ 🌪️), bUT HERE IT IS. also, I think it took an different turn from the actual ask at the end?? and I don't know if this is what you had in mind, but I tried to keep the feeling of the song more than trying to use the actual lyrics, so uh,,,,,,, I hope you like it!

They don't know about us

Pairing: Crosshair x reader (no y/n)

Prompt: 41. They don't know about the things we do, they don't know about the I love you's. - They don't know about us by One Direction

Word count: 1,4k

Warnings: none. just a trashy ending as usual 😌

It's always sneaking around with him; in the middle of the night as the others sleep, either on the Marauder or back in Kamino, he would always find a way to get to you, quiet steps making their way to you in the darkness, as if every path would lead to you.

Cold hands always holding you from behind, close to his body, either on your way to the 'fresher or in the bunk of your quarters, and he would inhale your scent, the smell sweet shampoo he always took a moment or two to breath in, and he would whisper in your ear a "hi" or a "miss me?" before pressing the faintest of kisses on your temple and turning you to face him, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss that would leave you breathless, an ardent touch, so needy and urgent that made you sigh and feel like jelly as your fingers get lost in the short locks on the nape of his neck, sometimes tugging, sometimes scratching oh so softly, grunts and empty promises leaving each other's lips.

You could swear every time he kissed you, you died and came back to life in the blink of an eye, in the smallest of breaths, in the quickest way possible only to find him again, and again, and again, in the very same position, hearing the same words, feeling the same touch, and yet again, never seeming to get tired of it, of him, of how he feels pressed against you or how long, calloused fingers left goosebumps in their wake, how your knees felt weak with every exploration of his tongue and how intoxicated he left you, making you dizzy and heart pounding wildly in your chest, two beats away from leaping out and fall straight into his hands.

But he always left you wanting more, having to wait till the night fell, and leaving before the sun rises.

It was only in the shortest period of time when you could have him, in the dead hallways or in the darkness of your room, away from prying eyes and whispers that might know what you two are up to, afraid they find it was nothing but a facade how you two acted around each other when the sun shone bright.

A never ending bicker over the simplest of things, eye rolls and tired huffs thrown at each other along with sarcastic comments, an act in which the two of you played your part so well since you met no one could think it was just that, an act, and neither you or Crosshair knew how to stop. And when it was for your eyes only, you showed something else, a vulnerability and a kindness people could only joke about you two having, whispering confessions on each other's skin so low and so soft sometimes you don't believe you heard them right.

Still, there were times where you wanted to say them out loud, scream them at the top of your lungs as you held his hand on the way to the Marauder or maybe just confess it in a murmur as you kiss him goodbye, whisper a be careful followed by an I love you when you had to stay behind. Wishing to place your head on his shoulder as you fell asleep after a hard day and for him to kiss your forehead while muttering a sweet dreams, I'll be here when you wake up and have the certainty that he will.

"We could tell them." You had muttered once, when his head rested on your chest and your fingers played with his hair.

"Sneaking is fun, though." You hummed, mind absent as you think in the possibilities.

Sneaking is fun, and there is a thrill you can't get so easily from other things, the rush and adrenaline you get from the mere thought of being caught is something else, truly, but there's an ache too, of a secret that burdens your heart because all it wants to do it's to scream out loud that it's taken and in love.

He met your eyes, and you kissed his forehead.

"We'll get in trouble if anyone finds out."

And you know that, so you kept from saying anything else, there's no way around this, much less with trying to change Crosshair's mind, so you just nodded.

"I know."

But you end up forgetting, breaking the unspoken promise of keeping it for yourself, exposing it all without second thought, an action so natural that you didn't notice until the tense silence caught up with you, Crosshair's little smirk assuring you it wasn't as bad as what you thought it would be if anyone ever found out, eyes glinting with a special something that let you know you were good.

He was close to the breaking point too.

A kiss is what betrays you.

It happens after a mission, when you thought everyone but Hunter were in the cockpit, and you were tending an ugly cut in Crosshair's chest.

"You need to stop moving," you say under your breath as you try to apply bacta on his chest.

"I would if you stopped moving." He grumbles, and you sigh, giving him a look, and it's just the beginning of another silly argument with him.

"I would if Tech did a better job piloting."

"Well, that's not my fault."

"Neither is mine!" But before he can make a remark, Hunter passes behind you.

"Cut it off you two," Hunter orders as he passes to the cockpit and you roll your eyes along with Crosshair, a smirk making its way into both of your lips and you shake your head.

"You heard the Sarge, cut it off." And his smile widens, eyes narrowing in a silent challenge and you know the action well and what comes with it.

"Why don't you make me?"

And you look at him for a second, forgetting for a moment where are you and who's around you, his amber eyes and light smirk overshadowing every coherent thought as you take the bait.

In your defense, you did think you were alone, so it's what pushes you to smile to yourself while murmuring a "you asked for it" before sitting on his lap, his hands flying to your hips by inertia and you don't see his smug expression before you kiss him hard, sloppy, taking his breath away with the action as he lets a surprised gasp on your lips and you try to hold back a triumphant smile.

When you pull away, his eyes shine with adoration and something you can't place just yet as you smirk, pecking his lips before going back to apply bacta on his wound.

There's a loud "finally", you that makes you freeze, head snapping towards Crosshair, alarmed, but he only looks relaxed, a cocky expression on his face as he shrugs, as if it was something destinated to happen, and glances to the person behind you, you turn your head to the side to find the four boys looking straight at you.

Wrecker looks disgusted, Tech's not impressed and Echo and Hunter have the smugest smiles you have ever seen.

Your cheeks heat up and you'd do anything to leave right then and there or maybe if you could just simply disappear, but Crosshair's grip is keeps you in place, not letting you move from his lap. If anything, he tightens his hold.

"We don't know who you tried to fool, you weren't exactly subtle." Echo says, but you were subtle, and it makes you wonder, before you can ask about it, Tech quickly continues as he tries to reassure,

"But don't worry, we won't tell anyone if that's what you were afraid of."

Your face reddens and your voice fails when you say thank you, and Crosshair gives Tech a sharp nod, and there's a conversation unknown to you as they look at each other that ends with the others nodding as well.

"We're happy for you," Hunter eventually lets out, understanding flashing through his eyes before he adds, " but next time avoid the whole make out session, we don't need that." And the smirk in his voice, makes you groan before hiding your face in Crosshair's neck while he chuckles softly.

"Yeah! It's disgusting!"

You visibly cringe and that's the last you hear before everyone begins to scatter around the ship, Crosshair tires to soothe you with making lazy patterns on your back with his fingers and he kisses your temple before your eyes meet, he brushes your hair from your face as he mutters the quietest you've ever heard him,

"No more hiding."

With a fluttering heart, you grin widely.

"No more hiding."

Taglist: @foodandbooksplease @dottiechan @ladykatakuri @tacticalsparkles @murdertoothpick @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s @weirdcharacter

#🌪️ #crosshair x reader #crosshair x you #tbb crosshair #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch #i refuse to write something for crosshair without tbb making an appearance lmao #i just love them sO MUCH

[honeysidesarchived]

WHERE THERE IS NO TEMPTATION, THERE IS NO GLORY.

⊱ a santino d'antonio / oc short-fic

interlude ii ( read on ao3 ) ( masterlist )

words: 2.4k

warnings: none really! just an impending, pervasive sense of doom.

rating: m/t

notes: so happy to have finally gotten this little interlude edited and pieced together! just more soft moments because they deserve it considering what's going to be coming up. thank you everyone who has been reading/interacting with this little love project of mine; it took a minute to get myself dug out of the trenches and posting bite-sized chapters because this is a short-fic is definitely doing something to me (lmao) but we're here!

as always you can find translations on ao3, where it's easier to store them in a place that doesn't get in the way.

There is very little time between when Santino cooks her dinner and when he moves her into his apartment. It happens without much acknowledgment from her; she finds herself swallowed up in moments of casual intimacy that break her down to nothing except a girl in love.

Santino wakes her up by kissing her neck and pulling her against his chest; she makes him dinner barefoot in the kitchen, all of the recipes that her mother taught her, and he drags his hand along her hip to reach over her into the cupboard; he stands still and obedient while Euphemia slides his tie into place, and when he zips her dress for her, he peppers her shoulder with kisses. He tolerates taking a walk through the park, even in the chilliness of late Fall or Winter, because Euphie can’t stand to not get some fresh air once a day. When one of her friends asks why he lets her bully him into the cold weather, he wraps his arms around Euphie with a sly smile and says, “How could I not, when I am the one who gets to warm her up after?”

He is an exceptionally tactile man. There is always a reason for him to touch her, trace each line of her, put his lips against her skin. Santi isn’t a man who loves; he covets. And Euphemia shouldn’t like it as much as she does, but she does. Her therapist says that it isn’t uncommon for a girl who grows up without touching to crave it, desperately, like an addiction.

So, she finds herself living in his loft to feed that addiction—which becomes their loft—and teaching him words in French, and feeding him olives while sauce simmers (and does not boil), and kissing the red-wine taste from his lips. It’s all very romantic and greatly overshadows the moments where Santino comes home raging mad, or when his bad mood takes over their conversation and stirs a fight between them. They’re both hot-headed—her more so than he—and he knows all of the ways to diffuse her while she knows none about him.

But it doesn’t matter, in the end; because Santino always kisses her, and always says, Mi dispiace, cara mi, ti amo, ti amo, ti amo, lip-locking between each break in words until her lungs ache.

Euphie has never wanted to be loved sensibly, anyway.

Making money stops becoming an issue. Santino might have been fine letting her wrap up her loose ends, so to speak, encourages her, even—“You should never leave business undone, my Euphie,”—but he’d never tolerate her continuing to skim out of the pockets of his associates. Not out of respect for them, of course, but because Santino is more than happy to provide.

“I have to do something,” Euphie insists, often. But Santino clicks his tongue and shakes his head, inspiring indignation in her. “That money goes to my mother, Santi.”

“Princesa, what are you worrying for?” He replies every time. In this instance, he is reading over some documents, his voice casual, simple, effective at bringing her to heel. “If your mama needs money, she’ll get it. Tutto quello che vuoi è tuo.”

Euphemia used to think that he was doing it to be generous, but as time goes on, she knows that isn’t the case. If Santino didn’t think he was benefitting from sending her mother money every month, he wouldn’t do it: but he does. Euphemia stops playing at arm candy for other powerful men; he endears himself to her by taking care of her mother; he endears himself to her mother; he’s afforded a sense of control. There is no facet of it where he isn’t getting something out of it. And she thinks, too, that maybe Santino likes it like this, where she is completely reliant on him for everything.

She doesn’t mind so much.

She would, if Santino didn’t drench her in his longing, if he didn’t make her feel, every day, that he is desperate to treasure her. She has always heard about this kind of love—and it is love—and never thought she would have it for herself.

But she does now, and she doesn’t want to let it go.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Tea or coffee, mama?”

Santino is busying himself in the kitchen. They’ve been together for a little over a year now, and they’re on a tour of Italy—not for fun, necessarily, but for integration. They have just spent the last week with Santino’s father and sister, and now they will spend the next two days in the Tuscan countryside with her mother.

Two days for her mother, instead of the week that they gave Santino’s father and sister, in part because his father deserves more time and in part because Euphemia doesn’t think she can tolerate her mother in much more than two-day increments.

“Coffee, please,” her mother says, very charmed by Santino.

“Tea,” Euphemia interjects. She looks at her mother—her face is tired, and older than she really is. Euphie knows that this is a side effect of heavy, abusive drinking and years spent in emotional terror, not the passage of time. Still, she finds it hard to drum up anything except distant pity in her heart. “You don’t need the caffeine.”

“Oh, you always ruin my fun.”

Santino re-enters the room with a small cup—it’s an espresso cup, but he’s poured it with regular coffee.

“A compromise,” Santi explains, handing the cup to her mother, smiling handsomely. “To make both of my girls happy.”

Her mother preens, glows under the affection. “You are so sweet, Santi. A perfect son-in-law.”

He has always called her and her mother his girls. His own mother had passed since before Euphemia; and while he knows that Euphie’s relationship with her mother is strained at best, he does what he can to ease it. Because it makes her happy, he says, and if she’s happy, he’s happy.

“Not yet a son-in-law,” Euphie corrects, and Santino flashes her a quick, amused little smile.

“You see how cruel she is to me, madonna? I have asked her to marry me, you know.”

“Santi,” Euphemia sighs, but it has had its desired effect; her mother looks scandalized, mortified at her daughter’s resistance to marrying a man as good and handsome and charming as Santino.

“Effie, tell me that you haven’t been bullying Santino like this?”

“Mama, there is no reason—he is just teasing. Ascoltami, you don’t need to look so horrified.”

“I do not know where I went wrong with you, Euphemia Sancia.” Her mother clicks her tongue, muttering something under her breath and taking a drink of the coffee Santi made her, and Euphemia can’t bring herself to say that not everything she has done wrong in her life is a slight against her mother’s parenting skills.

Santino smiles and leans across to Euphie, bringing her hand up to kiss it.

“Don’t worry,” he says to her mother, his voice blooming with practiced warmth. “I will ask her as many times as it takes for her to say yes.”

Euphemia feels her heart stutter painfully in her chest. She knows that he means it; he’s suggested it to her three times, now. It seems to be the only thing he doesn’t mind asking more than once.

“She’s always been fussy, my Euphemia,” her mother says, breaking the magic of Santino’s eyes on her. “Never happy with what she has, just like her father. Except for you, Santi—you are the only thing she holds onto.”

Exasperation and disgust flood over her. Both the mention of the man considered to be her father and any similarities they might share has her mood souring. “Mama—”

But Santino is sweeping in, like he always does when he can tell Euphie is getting tired of her mother, coming to a stand and asking her, “We should get started on dinner, cara mia, don’t you think?”

Just like that, he’s taken control of the conversation again. He sees her flailing and steadies her. Euphemia is certain that he doesn’t love her mother—that he doesn’t even like her—but that he can spend his time tolerating her with charm and grace despite knowing what her mother allowed to go on under their roof is indicative of the man that Santino is.

“Yes,” she replies, standing as well. “You look tired, mama. Take a rest while Santi and I make dinner.”

She wanders into the kitchen with Santino trailing after her. As soon as they’re alone, he winds his arms around her waist and kisses the juncture between her shoulder and neck.

“Is it true?” he asks coyly. “That you don’t hold on to anything except for me?”

She doesn’t want to tell him very much, because he knows already, and because to say it out loud will give it legs. A year together, and she still doesn’t want her feelings for him to have legs. Santino splays his fingers against her sternum and kisses her jaw.

“You know that it is,” she says at last, her voice a little unsteady. She can feel Santi smiling against her skin.

“Euphie,” he purrs, “marry me.”

Yes, she wants to say, as her eyes flutter shut. Yes, I’ll marry you, Santi. Anything that you ask. I’ll do anything for you, if you would just keep saying my name like that.

She wants to say it but the words won't come out. There is nothing quite like the feeling of Santino peeling back each individual layer of her defenses, piece by piece; so close, she knows, he is so close, but not quite. Not yet. She is most comfortable keeping him at arm’s length as much as possible—to kiss and to fuck and to let someone hold you at night is one thing. To let someone in past the barbed-wire of defenses is yet another, impossibly reckless. To be seen feeling anything deranges you, as the poets like to say.

“Sancia, hm?” he continues instead, when she can’t bring herself to answer, as the words stick in her throat. It’s one of those things where Santino seems to exercise a surprising amount of patience, this whole ordeal of to marry or not to marry; later, Euphemia will come to understand that it is because Santino believes their life together to be inevitable, that she will always say yes to him, one way or another.

For now, she turns in his arms, cocking a brow at him. He continues, “It means sacred.”

Euphemia nods sagely and props herself up on the counter. “Buon ascolto, my love. I suppose that means you should work very hard to worship me well.”

Santino laughs. He leans in, trapping her against the counter—though it isn’t much of a trap if she’s a willing participant—and noses the slope of her jaw.

“Yes,” he murmurs, “I suppose that it does.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━

On the last leg of their tour of families, Santino insists that they spend a few days in Rome by themselves.

The days are used mostly for doing a lot of nothing; neither of them are particularly interested in sight-seeing, but rather interested in seeing each other, a thing which they don’t seem to tire of particularly quickly. Instead, they shop, or lay in bed together until the afternoon, or go out to eat when street lights kick on and the city takes on a life of its own.

“You are much happier, Euphie,” Santino says one evening, smoothing out his napkin on the table absently, “when you are not around your mother.”

It’s not a question, per se, though she knows that he expects an answer. But she is still young and a little petulant, and she likes to push his buttons and make him say exactly what it is he means, so she takes a sip of her wine and replies, “Yes.”

He arches a brow at her. He looks particularly handsome like this, she thinks—not around his family, just eating dinner in a streetside restaurant in Rome, illuminated in warm candlelight and the glow of the streetlights outside.

“Are you going to tell me why?” he asks, amusedly.

“If you ask.” Euphemia sets her wine glass down on the table, and when Santino reaches for her hand, she lets him take it, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “But it is so boring, Santi, to talk about my mother. Why don’t you ask me about something else?”

The brunette’s mouth is curving in a little smile. “Like…?”

“Like…” Euphie gestures with her free hand, like she has to really think about it. “Euphie, how did I get so lucky to have a woman like you? That is a good place to start. Or, what will you do with me once you get me back to the hotel? Or, Euphie, will I ever be so fortunate as to call you my wife?”

Santino laughs, leaning into their conversation, bringing her fingers up to kiss them. He has long lashes; soft, and dark, and they brush the tops of his cheekbones when his eyes close. Santino glances from her fingers up to her, that boyish grin on his face.

“I already know the answers to the first and last question,” he says casually, like it’s no big deal, but he’s grinning wickedly at her when he says it. She scoffs.

“Dimme poi,” Euphie insists. “I am dying to know, Santi.”

His expression is very sage, very wise, and he nods his head. “Il destino,” he says, winding their fingers together, “e tra un anno.”

There is something very heart-stopping about the way Santino articulates il destino, as though it is fact, as though there is something undeniable about their coming together.

“How do you know?” she asks. “In a year?”

“Because if you do not want to marry me by then,” Santino replies matter-of-factly, “then I am certainly not suited for marriage at all.”

She rolls her eyes, taking a drink of her wine and savoring the way his eyes trail over her, admiring, drinking her in.

“Well?” he prompts. She looks at him expectantly, and he reiterates, his gaze set on her, “What will you do with me once you get me back to the hotel, belladonna?”

Euphemia feels her heart stutter painfully in her chest when he looks at her like that; like she is the only person in the entire universe, like she has become the sun that snags him in her planetary pull, like he will never, ever grow tired of looking at her. It sweeps the breath out of her.

“Anything, mio amato,” she murmurs. “Anything you want, if you promise to never stop looking at me like that.”

#john wick fic #santino d'antonio/original female character #santino d'antonio #c: euphemia volpe #f: where there is no temptation there is no glory #spilled ink #john wick oc #i'm fine we're fine this is all fine nobody panic #gonna #q #this so that i can pretend i don't see it djhfbjdf #x: senza tentazioni senza onore

[chanluster]

master | {m}

oneshot | vampire! au | 2.1k words

“There were deities much more addictive than your master’s fangs.”

s u m m a r y > > it was time for the most powerful vampire to feed. you should not keep him waiting.

w a r n i n g s > > vampire! jeongin, servant! reader i guess, jeongin is obviously extremely beautiful, shadows and magic related stuff, jeongin’s a little mad at the start, reader do be very horny, making out, jeongin is so sensual, fingering, orgasming, and very very very slight fluff at the end.

a u t h o r ’ s n o t e > > i feel dirty writing this for jeongin but ion CARE he’s got me so fucked up lately !!! was originally for seungcheol but since our little boy’s playing wild ass games w me recently i decided to change. i hope you enjoy and jeongin i’m so sorry 🖤

back to masterlist

YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE MADE YOUR MASTER WAIT.

Heart in your throat, you rushed down the murky hallways of your master’s manor, the eerie torches guiding you to your destination. The mere light curved towards the black mist, lingering around you as if he himself led you to him.

Another turn to your right, you met the double doors of the main hall, closed before you — dark, ancient writing was encrypted upon the metal, and when you touched it the element sang, glowing slightly over your presence. You pushed the door open, you braced yourself for the man who awaited you.

No, no. Not a man.

A fairytale. A legend only told in stories, a villain who haunted the nights of many.

The creature which had bound you to him.

Your eyes widened at what it exposed.

There he was — Yang Jeongin, the notorious beast, engulfed in midnight as he sat on his obsidian throne; his beautiful face, illuminated by the full moon revealed through stained glass windows, was laced with a strong emotion, darkened lips pursed as his eyes, closed, were nearly hidden by his slick black hair, cascading over his forehead. He adorned a silk shirt, overshadowed by his large longcoat, and his one leg was folded, an ankle over knee as the only shadows trailed over his trousers.

The vampire was darkness incarnate. Swallowed all light until, when he heard you enter, his eyes fluttered open. The colour of rubies shone in his irises, so intense it stole the very breath from your lungs.

His gaze was red. It was with this fact you realised that the strong emotion was pure, unadulterated rage.

Rage, swirling with another vivid feeling entirely.

“Where were you?” His deep, solid voice thundered in the throne room.

You tried to speak, but were met with no words upon your tongue. God, his mere presence brought you to vulnerability.

When his question was not answered, he unfolded his leg, a THUD! resonating in the room as his foot hit the obsidian steps of his throne. “Can you not even speak before me?” He taunted in his iron murmur.

“I-I…” you began, taking in a deep breath to study yourself. It hurt how ethereal he truly was. “I...I am here now.”

The shadows began to crawl towards you. “I can see that, darling.”

You felt the inky accomplices of your master, curling around your feet, shifting upon your skirts. You tried to look down, but an exterior force had you raising your chin to look at Jeongin, whose eyes had reddened even more.

His hands fisted upon the arms of his throne. “Come here.”

You did not need to be told twice.

Obliging him instantly, you walked up to the black steps, ready to kneel down before him when a small grunt escaped him.

“No, no, darling,” he said, raising a hand.

When his fingers drummed against his leather-kissed thigh, you swore you felt the floor sway beneath your feet. “Right here.”

Oh, dear Lord.

Balance uncertain, you made the final step upwards, standing right before the seated hunter of the humans. He flicked his fingers, and instantly dark mist curled towards you, a small rush of breath escaping you as the force had you sitting down — right upon his lap.

The granite hardness of his thigh had your eyes widening, a strange, mystical sensation pooling at your core. When you locked eyes with Jeongin, though, it seemed to fasten even more.

You did not know if it was misfortune or pure luck that he picked up in your shift of attitude. “Damned above, doll, I can smell the sex off of you.”

He chucked when you gulped, a little too loud. “I have not even touched you, darling,” he mused, his phantom hands encircling your waist. “Yet here you are, already frantic for me.”

Your hands fisted upon your lap, urging to have your fingers threaded in his midnight locks. “Please, master,” you mumbled, caging yourself in his otherworldly gaze. “Use me already.”

Jeongin parted his mouth, and already his canines began to sharpen. He ran his tongue over the teeth, as his other hand gripped onto your chin.

“That’s what I like to hear, doll.”

You could not answer back. Not when the creature had closed the distance, enveloping your lips with his own.

The sheer hypnotism of his kiss had a moan climbing up your throat, but his mouth upon you refused to let the sound free. He hitched his leg higher, having you engulfing in his darkness, fingers on his chin tilting your head for added pleasure.

His tongue played along the seam of your lips, and you couldn’t open your mouth faster enough. He explored your inner workings, feeling your very heartbeat under the pads of his fingertips and relishing at how it rushed with every swirl of his tongue against yours.

When he pulled away, you couldn’t suppress the whine inside you as his hand cupped your jaw, the other roaming your waist. His eyes glowed even brighter, radiating the hunger which heightened with the kiss.

“Fuck , ____, I think I want to ruin you,” he guttered.

You blinked slowly at him, running your hands up his silk-stained chest. “Ruin me then, master.”

The greatest vampire on earth had never obliged on someone else’s wishes faster.

His next kisses were harsh, roughened as he thrust his tongue inside you, fingers trailing up and down over your body. You finally received refuge in his hair, and the soft, velvety locks were, ironically, pure heaven, cherishing them more when Jeongin removed himself from your lips, instead trailing down. His mouth found solace upon your cheeks, jaw, and then down the column of your throat, emitting a gasps of pleasure from each touch.

The shadows, at his call, curled over your legs, caressing the hem of your skirts, teasing it upwards ever so slightly. The cold night air brushed your exposed skin, the dress hitching higher until the vampire’s own fingers took up the task instead. Shivers ran down your spine as his touch glided up your skin, all the way up to your thighs as the skirts bunched you at your waist.

Tearing away from your neck, the beast took a glance down at the hidden treasure between your legs, salivating to find it soiled from his labour. His hand slid over to the underwear, palming your core upon the fabric.

A lewd moan tore from your throat, much to Jeongin’s pleasure.

He carried on, a malicious smirk spreading on his face, and you thrived off his amusement till he began to pull your underwear down.

Discarding it completely, the fangs he tried to contain slid sharper when he took in your gleaming cunt, all courtesy of him.

When imprisoning you with his gaze, his blood-shot eyes seemed to glimmer with ecstasy.

“I’m taking you to Hell, darling.”

As his fingers began to brush against your inner thigh, Jeongin focused his eyes on your exposed neck, already rooted to the network of veins and arteries within your skin. Planting his lips upon a certain spot, he offered open mouthed kisses, causing you to hiss at the sheer thrill that evoked.

When his digits began skimming over the surface, however, a soft whimper escaped you, along with the double pleasure of teeth grazing upon your throat.

“P-please, master,” you gritted out, holding onto his hair for dear life. “Stop teasing.”

“Shh…” he kissed you further down your throat, and all this waiting had you sensing a deep heaviness in your belly.

You were about to complain further when the creature plunged the first finger inside of you.

A broken groan rooted out of you, his digit digging right up to the knuckle, a slow drive which had the full potential to drive you insane. The assault on your neck was prevalent, and you feared you would pass out if he drained you of your blood now.

The thought was not pondered over further when the second finger joined in, stretching out your walls and lapping up the arousal pooling between his invasion. Jeongin then began a rhythm of slowly pulling out from your cunt, and then diving back in, fastening his pace until you thought you dribbled out your responses.

His other hand gripped onto your chin, forcing your gaze to lock with his. “Are you ready?” He whispered, and although you were nearly fucked out, you understood what he truly meant. You only nodded, tilting your head to the side so you fully offered your neck to him, already bruised from the roughened kisses.

The vampire’s ruby eyes glistened. “Use your words, darling,” he rasped out, continuing his ecstatic efforts upon your cunt, thumb grazed over your clit. “I want you to say it.”

You could barely feel yourself sat upon his lap anymore, your very own throne. “Yes,” you declared in a ragged breath. “Take my blood master.”

A devil smile enveloped his spit-slick lips.

“Wonderful.”

In seconds, the creature was upon you, never stopping upon your core as he skimmed his teeth over your skin.

It was then you felt the fangs upon your throat.

Although he had done so many times, there was always a shot of pain as his canines pricked your neck, slowly, ever so slowly digging deeper into your skin. You cried out, but then the bastard thrust a third finger inside you, and the cry became a scream, so intoxicated from his mouth and fingers, working simultaneously and too damn well. Both had the same objective to decimate you completely.

Your orgasm thrummed deep within you, right on the edge and threatening ruination. You said so to the creature, attacking you on all fronts. As if understanding, Jeongin only quickened his pace, beginning to drink.

An enchanted sound hummed from him as he engulfed your blood, like the sweetest nectar of all the land if he was a little bee, flying away in the countryside. He had drunk the life out of hundreds, yet the taste of you had been the most alluring to him — he had never known why, but this mystery had him all the more attracted to you, as he sucked on your neck.

His slow drainage had you delirious — your eyes became heavy lidded, your grip nearly gone upon his locks, and you could hardly feel your legs, shaking from the soon undoing of the vampire.

“M-mas...master,” his title slurred from you, and you needed it. The final push, the last thrust forward into bliss.

And perhaps it was the endearment, the fucked out rasp or simply because it was you, all pillaged, which had him sending his three fingers plunging inside your cunt. You let out a shuddered scream, your orgasm tearing through your body, tears down your eyes as you came over his digits. His thirsting was unfinished, so you did not cease your whimpering.

Black spots entered your vision, Jeongin slowly withdrawing his fingers, skimming soothingly over your folds. All the while, he drank, a treacle of blood trailing down his chin. You thought this was the end, that maybe he did not realise that you were going to die if he kept draining you, and you tried tugging, but the strength was gone.

When you nearly went limp in his hold, only then did he slow down. With shuddering relief, he slipped his fangs out your throat, and lapped his tongue over the pricks upon your skin. After pressing a soft kiss upon the wound, he finally looked down at the mess you had made.

“Oh, no, darling,” he cooed softly, hand sliding under your head. “Undoing yourself from just my fingers?”

He caressed your locks. “I thought you would like to go all the way today—” he shushed your whining, your wish of his cock in you, “—but we might have to do that another time.”

A cruel smile caught on his face. “I do not wish for another blood bag. I quite like the thought of you staying with me for a little longer.”

Those words alone could have killed you.

He swiped your skirts down, holding onto you still. “How would you like a bath, doll?”

You nodded erratically, yet he sensed your enthusiasm with a laugh. “You are damned lucky I like you, ____,” he declared.

Even with the fucked out state, you felt yourself blush.

You are damned lucky I like you, ____.

It was this little declaration which lingered still, when, picking you up in his arms, he stood from his obsidian throne.

With the help of his shadows, as you were cocooned by midnight, you and the greatest vampire in the world disappeared from the hall.

#jeongin imagines #jeongin smut #jeongin scenarios #stray kids oneshot #stray kids smut #yang jeongin #yang jeongin smut #yang jeongin imagines #yang jeongin scenarios #yang jeongin oneshot #jeongin hard hours #jeongin dark hours #stray kids imagines #stray kids dark hours #stray kids hard hours #stray kids x reader #jeongin x reader #jeongin sweetie im so sorry #tags better fucking work

[phobiadeficient]

BLU M!Sniper and RED F!Sniper split roasting their lover M!Scout?

(warnings for roughness and mention of jealousy, possessiveness, etc)

He had to know it was a long shot, but there he was, giving her puppy eyes and trying his best to explain himself.


It was a bold thing to ask. And he admitted as much, admitted that he knew she hated the guy, and besides that he didn’t know how fond she was of... well, sharing. She spent probably half the time she complained about things complaining about the guy being a bastard, and a shitty sniper overall, accusing him of being a prick and having a big head and being a coward first and foremost. But also, Scout just thought, y’know, maybe...

And she had a very confident ‘no’ locked and loaded, ready to go, but then she looked back over at him and saw those puppy eyes again, and the only word that she managed to say after a minute was a particularly grumpy “Bugger.”

And when she eventually said yes—with a few stipulations—he didn’t exactly need to know, that... some of the problem was the fact that after a few years, her frustration with the other team’s Sniper had gotten a bit... charged. In a few ways. And she made sure to stress that she wasn’t going to be the one putting in the leg work to try to convince the bastard of anything, but she would be calling the shots.

The speed at which Scout agreed to all of that made her a little concerned that she was somehow being played, still.

Then apparently he actually managed it, then they were meeting at a bar, and Scout tactfully placed himself between the two of them at that bar so they wouldn’t strangle each other before they could talk, and she knew him well enough to be able to tell that his smile was just slightly forced as he looked between them.

“Uh, so, Snipes,” he said, and she raised an eyebrow at him. “Uh, we figured the name thing might get confusing, so I’ll still be callin’ you Snipes, but, uh—“

“Mick,” the other Sniper cut in before he could keep rambling. “Just call me Mick.”

“Funny, rhymes with ‘prick’,” she quipped.

His jaw tightened. Scout fidgeted, hurried to cut in again.

“Uh, but, yeah, I couldn’t get into details much since I figured we could kinda figure that stuff out a little better once, uh... once we get there, y’know?” he trailed, glancing around their vicinity briefly, self-consciously.

“I get the gist of it,” Mick said. “Agreed enough to show up, at least.”

“Not worried we’re here to ambush and kill you?” she asked.

“Implying I’m scared of you,” he said, and her grip on her glass tightened, and she was about to say a few choice words when she felt Scout’s hand on her knee, squeezing lightly, and she just huffed, taking another drink.

“So, if you’ve got any, uh, questions—“ Scout tried.

“Here’s one,” Mick cut in. “What are we all telling our employers?”

And he was surprisingly civil after that while they talked briefly about the implications for their jobs, and came to the collective conclusion that if one of them was screwed over, they’d all be screwed over, so they didn’t particularly plan on being rats. Sniper then informed Mick about a few house rules, mainly that if Scout told him to stop or let up, he’d damn well stop and let up, and that he could get rough if Scout asked, and Scout flushed all the way up to his ears during the entirety of it but for the most part she considered this important enough to ignore him.

And then they were finishing off their drinks, and then they were heading to the motel, and then Scout was getting them a room key and left the two of them alone for a moment.


She had Mick by the collar in a moment, yanked down to make up for the two or so inches of difference in their heights. “Alright, you listen here,” she growled, sunglasses pulled off for the moment. “I bloody well mean it when I say that I don’t want you trying to make this into a contest. He’s my boyfriend, end of story. No matter what happens, I had him first. Clear?”

“Too bad you apparently need to bring someone else in to help keep him pleased,” Mick smirked, grinning like a bastard, and the only thing she could think to do that would wipe that stupid fucking smile off his face better than a swift punch to the nose was to kiss him like she wanted to maim in the process, so that’s what she did.

When Scout came back not even five minutes later, he found them both flushed, hair a mess, looking borderline murderous. “So... we’re doin’ this?” he asked feebly, and was yanked bodily towards their room.

She found herself on top of Scout in bed, boxing him in and kissing him like the world was ending while Mick mucked around in the bathroom. She didn’t waste time before starting to pull him free of his shirt, of his belt, and wasn’t surprised to find him already half-hard by the time she got a hand into his pants to cup at him.

When she pulled away enough to try and get her own shirt off, she registered the surprise that seemed to be evident on Scout’s face, the vague confusion largely overshadowed by awe. And she took the opportunity to bend down, mouth finding the space just under his jaw, stopping there to nip and suck hard enough to make him jolt, groan, grip at her shoulders—not pushing or pulling, just holding on for dear life as she sucked a mark and finally pulled away to look down at him again.

“Mine,” was all she said, voice a growl, and he nodded vigorously, clearly already dizzied by the entirety of what was going on.

And then she heard the door to the bathroom opening, and she pulled back enough to glance back in the direction of it, and was only half-surprised to see Mick already shirtless. Still had the shades on, though.

“Be patient,” she murmured to Scout, pressing a brief kiss to his cheek to quiet the beginning of a complaint when she sat up and climbed off him, moving to her bag to get what she’d need.

And by the time she’d untangled the increasingly-familiar harness and gotten it most of the way on, she was distracted by the sound of a stifled groan. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that apparently Mick had taken over for her, and was two fingers deep and carefully spreading Scout open, quieting how loud Scout tended to get with a biting kiss.

She paused entirely to watch for a few seconds, surprised by how hot that visual was making her, sending a shiver clambering up her spine, and even slightly more surprised at how quickly he was working. Clearly he had some experience with this.

“Bring a lot of men around seedy motels?” she couldn’t help but quip, trying to distract herself from the heat thrumming through her.

Mick pulled away from the kiss to raise an eyebrow at her. That was when she noticed that apparently Scout had coaxed him out of his glasses. “Enough,” he admitted casually, tone entirely more level than it should have been given the way that, now without a kiss to distract him, Scout had needed to bite down on the meat of his own hand to keep quiet, a litany of pleased little noises pouring out of his mouth.

“I imagine this is just another Saturday for you, then,” she huffed, finally managing to get that one buckle that always stuck to cooperate with her.

“Nah,” Mick replied, glancing back down at Scout for a moment while he reached and took his by then straining dick in his hand, giving it a brief pump just to hear the way Scout’s voice cracked high for a second. “Have to admit, this one here’s been caught on my scope a few times besides just to shoot him. He’s good-looking.”

Scout looked like he very much wanted to reply to that somehow, but his first word was replaced by a choked noise as Mick twisted his wrist just so and squeezed around the head, thrusting his fingers once, hard. She caught Scout’s eye, saw the same awe on his face, like he wasn’t entirely sure this was really happening, then saw the hunger flit into his expression as she pushed the toy into place on the harness and finished tightening it. “You’re right on that,” she agreed, moving over and cupping at Scout’s cheek, feeling the heat of his face under her hand and grinning at the fact that he couldn’t seem to decide whether to look at the strap or at her face. “But if you think he looks good now, you should see him here in a few minutes.”

“Might not be that long,” Mick replied, glancing over at the attachment and pulling his fingers free, wiping off his hand.

“I’m, I’m good,” Scout agreed, nodding hard. “So, how are we gonna do this, are we—“

Mick shut him up with a pair of hands bodily flipping him over and promptly pulling him up onto his knees, and Scout’s shiver of pleasure at the manhandling was misread by Mick, who squeezed his hips comfortingly for a moment. “Me in front, yeah?” he asked Sniper, who nodded, Scout hurriedly stammering out in the affirmative as well.

And she was slowed down in her attempt to arrange everything how she pleased at the visual of Scout fumbling his way through trying to open Mick’s pants one-handed, just a little bit too pleased at the notion of sucking him off, taking him into his mouth with enthusiasm that was just a touch too much, made that jealous streak flare up for just a second, and she didn’t bother reining herself in as much as usual as she dug fingernails into his hips, pushing in.

That groan he always made at that initial push was muffled, then echoed by Mick as Scout sank further forward and apparently did something very right. She couldn’t tell as well from the angle she’d found herself in, and didn’t particularly care. She’d only care if those noises started sounding too strained.

“Pull his hair,” she suggested, pleased to find that at the very least, she got to be the most put-together. Mick glanced up, expression hazy. “He likes it.”

He did so without further commentary, threading a hand in through the longer hair up at the top of his head and tugging, using it for leverage to push him down further. Scout groaned his appreciation, a distinct flex in his back letting Sniper know he was honestly leaning in to it just as much as Mick was pulling.

Alright, she was coming around. He won. Scout was right. This was a good idea.

She didn’t bother warming him up into things, knowing that he’d sometimes complain about her going too slow when she did it on normal nights, and he’d be even more frustrated if she did now. She just started straight into rocking her hips in steady motions, knowing by then just the right rhythm to leave him breathless without making her get too out of breath. She could keep it up for a good, long time, and always ended up enraptured at the way Scout melted, arching into it and gasping and moaning and gorgeous.

This time, he was a little distracted by clearly putting a good amount of effort into sucking off the other man, but even then he was noisy, and that only made Mick buck into his mouth all the more often.

“Gorgeous thing,” Mick choked, petting through his hair for a moment before snaring it and using it to buck into his mouth with more intent than before, and Scout just moaned, tilting slightly to accommodate. “God. Like you’re bloody made for this.”

“You have no idea,” Sniper said, breath a bit hard but still even, rhythm speeding for a moment to make Scout squirm. “I go too long without doing this to him and he gets so needy. He’d probably beg, if I made him wait too long. The way he begged for this tells me that much.”

“He’s blushing,” Mick informed her with a breathless sort of chuckle, and she saw that his ears were indeed turning red. “Poor thing. Can’t even defend himself with his mouth full.”

Scout made a quiet noise in the back of his throat that might have had something to do with the little extra roll Sniper put on the end of her next thrust, but Mick raised an eyebrow, pulling him back from his hair.

“Somethin’ to say, there?” he asked, hand falling to tip Scout’s chin up, and Sniper heard the way he was panting and slowed down her thrusts, knowing how close he had to be if he was making that kind of noise on the exhale.

Scout panted for another few moments, and finally made a disgruntled noise, shifting his weight. Sniper had to move forward with him a little bit, and he choked on breath for a moment before he recovered enough to speak. “If you’re gonna fuck my mouth, do it already,” he said, voice harder than expected. “And, and you can pull my hair harder than that.”

Sniper chuckled at Mick’s expression, slightly taken aback but clearly thrilled by this turn of events. “Alright then, get back down here,” he rumbled, and Scout did with enthusiasm, and then the pace was shifting.

She waited until Mick found his rhythm before she matched it, stepping up a notch, moving in double-time with the thrusts into Scout’s mouth. The skin of their thighs slapped together and Scout made desperate little noises every few thrusts, clearly completely overwhelmed by the way he’d gone so lax she needed to hold up his hips some amount for him. She only stopped occasionally to try and catch her breath or to readjust, shifting to long, slow strokes aimed as best she could to drag mercilessly against his prostate, and Scout whined helplessly each time it happened, bucking for emphasis until she started back up into the speed she’d had before again.

Mick seemed to sense something she didn’t—probably aided by the fact that he could see Scout’s face, feel his moaning—and told Scout to stroke himself. He did, moaning kicking up in pitch with his desperation, and that pushed Mick over the edge, swearing and fucking more roughly into Scout’s mouth before he spilled with a hard shudder. Scout moaned his pleasure when he could get air, strokes slowing down as he focused on not choking, and then his mouth was freed and he was panting and groaning against Mick’s thigh, rocking more firmly back into Sniper’s thrusts.

“Gonna come for me?” Sniper crooned in the sweet, teasing voice that always made him shiver when he was like this. “C’mon, we wanna see.”

Mick hummed in the affirmative, petting through his hair. Scout’s head was tilted a bit now, and Sniper watched Mick’s thumb drawing across his bottom lip, watched Scout’s eyebrows screw together with it, eyes falling closed, and Sniper filed it away as something she should try on him later. She moved to those long, firm strokes again, and Scout choked on nothing, going tense, jerking under her.

“Gorgeous,” she praised, rocking once and twice more for good measure, and he unclenched his teeth enough to gasp at it, and then he was relaxing, breathing hard.

She pulled free slowly and carefully, and Scout’s grunt of vague discomfort was muffled, Mick having leaned down to kiss him, still dominating but considerably more gentle than before. She left them to it as she stood to unclasp the harness, a little out of breath herself.

She’d only gotten one leg free when a pair of arms snaked around her waist, a familiar nose pressed into her hair, a breathless little chuckle fanning against her overheated neck. “Hey, c’mon, what about you?” Scout mumbled, half teasing and half hopeful.

She scoffed, but it was hard to get much feeling behind it. Seeing him like that, and the way the strap pressed against her as she’d been fucking him, and how hot the whole situation was, it all added up to make her feel… well. A good bit more turned on than she’d thought she would be. “What about me?” she asked, kicking free the rest of the way and trying not to separate from him.

“I want you to like this, too,” he said, and she jumped a little at the feeling of fingers trailing at her inner thigh.

“You don’t need to do that, I’ll be—“ she started, and was cut off as her breath hitched, Scout having gotten bold enough to push his fingertips against her more firmly. Her exhale was shaky as he trailed his fingers against her, the slickness there under his callouses apparently taking both of them by surprise if Scout’s little gasp was any indication.

“Jesus,” Scout whispered, sounding a little awed, a little desperate. “C’mon, please? I can’t just leave you like this, I wanna—“


His index and middle fingers found either side of her clit, rubbing with just the right amount of pressure, and her knees threatened to buckle for a moment. “Ngh,” was what she managed instead of a proper response, pulse hammering, and she gasped outright as Scout’s other hand rose to cup and squeeze at her breast, making her arch. “Christ, I, fine, just—“

He nosed her hair aside, pressing a kiss into her neck and kneading at her just so, his own breathing a little shaky.

“Wait,” she bit out, and he stopped, freezing in place.

That gave her time and brainpower to move, turning around and pushing him down onto the bed again, boxing him in with her legs before leaning down, kissing him absolutely silly. His noise of confusion morphed into a noise of contentment, hands finding her waist almost automatically. When she pulled away again a long moment, he was flushed and clearly a little dizzied, his lopsided smile on display. “That a yes?” he asked, hopeful.

She glanced him up and down. “Mostly I’m just surprised you’re still up for more,” she admitted. “Figured we’d put you through the paces already.”

“Nah,” he said, squeezing appreciatively for a moment. “You know I’m always up for more of whatever.”

“Even after getting fucked two ways in one go?” she asked, eyebrows raising.

“Especially,” he admitted, head turning for a moment to glance at the other man, who admittedly she’d almost forgotten about. Mick appeared to be about halfway through a cigarette, shamelessly ogling the two of them, making no attempt to cover himself up and grinning a little when she met his eyes.

Mick looked at her for a moment, then down at Scout, who she felt shift a little under her, clearly preening at the attention, at the heat there. Mick stretched his neck from one side to the other languidly and reached to tap out his cigarette before he looked back over at Sniper. “You’ve got rubbers, yeah?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at her. She nodded. “How about I take back and you take front this round?”

She blinked, glancing him over, then down at Scout. She was honestly a little surprised to hear they were ready to go again already, having not expected much more than that first round and maybe an attempt to crowd into one mattress if Scout was feeling particularly needy after. But then she looked at his face, and Scout seemed to be trying his hardest to give her his best puppy eyes.

“Bugger,” she sighed, and Scout grinned.

#//sniperscout #//fem!characters #//teasing #//powerplay #//begging

[tttinytrash]

((Ok so in my head Blue is a reluctant pred. He likes it, but it takes a lot to make him not just feel overwhelmingly guilty about enjoying this even if it’s safe. So have some Swap Sans vore! I wanted to play more with the pred’s pov since my last couple were more prey focused. Also sorry for making it a not romantic thing but my ace butt prefers it that way. Friends should be able to cuddle friends, dammit! But I guess if you wanna you can squint and just assume Blue has a budding crush and/or is in denial of a crush. Regardless, enjoy!))

Sans was so pleased with his and his brother’s house on the Surface. It was about the size of their home back in Snowdin and even better, it came with a new friend! The little borrower in their walls, a female named Lark, had lived there before the two moved in and had been quickly sussed out between the skelebrothers. (Benefits of magic.) After some tension in the beginning, she was now almost part of family! She was certainly the best roommate Sans could have asked for. 

She loved hiding in Sans’ bandanna to go with him on his morning run, and was glad to help with cleaning the nooks and crannies Sans was unable to reach. But she also loved taking naps and staying up late with Papyrus, and finally gave the taller brother a run for his money in his video games (after Undyne made them a properly sized controller). Their interests were a harmonious blend between the brothers which meant she’d be equally likely to be found perched on the shoulder of either brother whenever she wasn’t taking time for herself in her holes in the walls. 

As for right now, she was laid on Papyrus’ sternum. Sans was slouched in the corner of the couch, and Papyrus pillowed his skull on a cushion laid in Sans’ lap. They were all watching a movie, and apparently all three had underestimated how gory the horror film would be. Papyrus was the least affected, but Sans was a wreck and the borrower was only mildly better. When Lark cracked and ducked to hide in Papyrus’ hoodie pocket Sans used it as an excuse to quit before the end. 

“THOSE HIGH RATINGS WERE SO MISLEADING, THAT WAS AWFUL!” Sans declared in disgust, relieved beyond words that the horrible movie was gone. (No. He was not suppressing the sounds of his bones rattling, thank you.)

“yeah, not my cup of tea either.” Papyrus then directed his attention to his pocket, patting it lightly and asking “you wanna stay in there, tiny tot?”

Sans didn’t hear it, but could tell the answer was an affirmative as Papyrus mounted the stairs. 

Sans finished putting the room back in order and trotted up after his brother, going into his own room to get ready for bed. It was pretty late after all, and he had to wake up bright and early to get a head start on his training!

Once he could no longer distract himself with bedtime prep and cleaning, however, Sans quickly found he couldn’t get the film out of his mind. It felt like the worst scenes were imprinted in the back of his eyelids. Ugh, he didn’t want to be alone.

To Paps’ room he went, relieved to see the light of his computer shining dimly from under the door. He wasn’t asleep then, yet. He reluctantly opened the door and froze at the sight before him. 

Papyrus was sat at his PC, still in his hoodie but he’d at least switched to PJ pants. This was normal, Papyrus did have a tendency to do most of his sleeping in the form of daytime naps rather than at night. No, what shocked Sans was seeing the borrower sized pair of legs hanging out of his brother’s mouth. He couldn’t help the horrified gasp when those legs disappeared with the quiet sound of a gulp.

The gasp obviously alerted Papyrus to Sans’ presence, and he greeted “hey bro. how long you been there?” He shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket, and Sans didn’t miss that he appeared to be swiping his thumb over his belly under the cover of the fabric.

“LONG ENOUGH! WHAT DID YOU DO THAT FOR?!” Sans fully entered, obviously confused and flustered.

Papyrus shrugged. “they asked.”

“WHAT?!”

“they asked me to take em in, bro. they wanted to hide. what’s with you? you know this is safe, i used to take you in too.”

“YES, YOU’RE RIGHT. BUT I WAS A BABYBONES!”

Papyrus just looked at Sans, shrugging again. He turned back to his computer.

Sans left, movie forgotten completely. He was eventually able to fall asleep, but spent far longer than he’d admit thinking about it and feeling guilty about blowing up like that. He KNEW it was safe, like Paps had said. So why did it bug him so much? Sleep came before an answer, unfortunately.

------

Breakfast the next morning was something Sans wasn’t particularly looking forward to. He made an extra effort to make a lavish assortment of waffles, cut fruit, and even made pancakes with M&Ms tossed in the batter like he knew Papyrus liked.

Papyrus eventually came downstairs, Lark carried in his cupped hand. The smell of cooking food usually woke him up, and if the borrower had followed his sleep schedule she was ordinarily dragged along. They both perked up at seeing the spread before them, before the lanky brother seemed to catch on to his sibling’s bribery.

“apology breakfast, bro?”

Sans sighed and faced his brother, gloved hand wringing the hem of his apron, “YES. I OVERREACTED LAST NIGHT AND I AM VERY SORRY. WHAT FRIENDS OR DATEMATES DO BEHIND CLOSED DOORS IS THEIR BUSINESS.”

Both Papyrus and Lark laughed at that. Before Sans had the chance to be insulted Papyrus explained.

“bro, nah. w-we’re just buds.”

“Nothing there, Sans. Promise. Don’t tell me you’re getting jealous, now.” she added.

“I AM NOT!” Sans squeaked, blush tinging his cheekbones.

She was still laughing, giggling a little extra in fact as she teased “You wanna give it a go, there Sans?” Snicker, “Need tummy cuddles too?”

Sans felt his eyelights go out and the blue glow of a blush burning his whole skull. Amid the uproar of laughter, he swiped the plate he’d set out for himself (waffles with strawberries on top) and skittered retreated up to his room.

He heard their laughter, and will admit he felt relief when he heard his brother called up “sorry, bro. but now we’re even, yeah?”

However, that relief that his breakfast gesture had worked was completely overshadowed by shame. Oh gosh please no, that feeling can’t be right can it? She hadn’t meant it, but she was right.

Sans did want to try it.

Delta help him.

------

The thought had been creeping into his mind no matter how much he tried to sweep it under the rug throughout his whole morning jog. He even ran an extra mile, but couldn’t outrun the problem. She hadn’t come with him this morning, so he found her instead on the coffee table when he came back. Papyrus was up taking a nap apparently, snd she was playing a game on her own. 

“Hey Sans, wanna play? There’s a co-op mode!~” She called, having paused the game.

Ugh, he couldn’t stand to look at her now. His tongue had even manifested unbidden. “N-NO. SORRY. I’M SPARRING ALPHYS TODAY, AND I WOULDN’T WANT TO BE LATE!” 

She bought the lie, and he got out of the house with no issue.

...But he had no plans with Alphys, no errands to run, but also couldn’t go home.

Well crap.

He’d ended up at the Librarby. He ended up there a lot the past couple of days. He knew Papyrus and Lark were getting concerned, but didn’t know what else he could do. 

For now, he was home. When his brother was around he could forget the intrusive thoughts. Just being alone with her was the trouble. So he was happy to watch another movie, and this one was absolutely making up for the awful horror movie that had afflicted their last movie night.

Eventually, the singing humans finished the closing number, and the credits began to roll. So Sans cleaned up the room, and Papyrus trundled up the steps with the borrower cupped in his hands. Once he was done cleaning, Sans bounded up the steps himself and dipped into the bathroom to swap into his pajamas.

Lark was sitting on his pillow when he entered his room. 

Sans would deny the startled squeak that slipped out when he caught sight of her til he dusted, but she didn’t even look amused. That didn’t bode well.

“Sans, is there anything wrong?” she asked.

“WHAT? N-NO! WHAT MAKES YOU ASK THAT? I HAVE BEEN ACTING EXTREMELY NORMAL!” Sans lied. Poorly, he knew.

“Sans. We both know thats not true. Did I do something wrong? Because you’ve been avoiding me. Paps noticed, too.”

“YOU’VE DONE NOTHING, EVERYTHING IS FINE!”

“...is it about Papyrus taking me in?”

Sans couldn’t actually muster words, just feeling his magic heat his cheekbones uselessly.

She sighed. “If it really bothers you that bad, we’ll stop. It’s not worth losing a friend, ok?”

“N-no... that’s not it...” Sans had even lost his usual volume, which made her take notice.

“Then what, Sans? I’ve been wracking my brain for days.”

Sans finally sat on the end of the bed. “...It was taking in stuff... But I’m not upset about you two doing it. It’s what you said that morning.” Sans felt so vulnerable, but as she’d put it, this wasn’t worth losing a friend.

“What? About you wanting to too? Oh, I went too far teasing you didn’t I? I’m sorry, I’ll lay off-”

“You were right.”

She faltered. “What?”

“I can’t stop wondering what it’s like. I’ve never taken anyone in before, and you two so clearly enjoy it. But I would never want to make you, So I’ve been trying to avoid the issue. But I think I just ended up avoiding you. I’m sorry.”

She looked confused for a solid few seconds, then slumped and gave a comically loud sigh of relief, even punctuated with a breathy giggle. “That’s all?”

Sans was now even more uncomfortable. “Yes?”

“Dude, then take me in! I’m fine! If that’s all the issue is, that’s such an easy fix.” She even took the extra initiative to bound over the span of the bed, straight for the skeleton before her. She only stopped a few inches short when she realized he was recoiling.

“Oh. It’s an easy fix for me, not so much for you. Huh, bud?” She asked quietly.

Sans made an unhappy noise, and that was answer enough.

“Ok. If the problem is me not wanting to, that’s clearly not an issue. Is it nerves because you don’t know what to do? I can walk you through it. Really, Sans, I actively want to do this, because maybe it’ll help close the gap we made between us. If you really don’t want to, then that’s fine too but just know the reluctance isn’t on my end, ok? I love and trust you just as much as Papyrus. Promise.”

Sans forced himself to relax, and cycled a breath. Thinking about it, he had no reason to refuse. And honestly, he would be happy to put his self-quarantine to an end. So he nodded. “Ok, but only if you’re sure.”

“Yep!” They beamed up at him, reaching upwards in a clear request to be picked up.

He gently cupped his hands around them and lifted them off the mattress, up to his face. “Ok, what do I do?”

“Why don’t you open up? I’ll get in myself, just bring your hand close ok?”

Sans had to take a moment to breathe, but did open up his mouth. His tongue had manifested itself by this point, so that wasn’t an issue. But that also meant he felt and tasted their hands when they were set down. He was going cross eyed to watch her progress as much as the angle allowed, but she seemed to have no issue and slid in easily. He was surprised by the lack of friction, honestly.

She scooted a bit father forward, making him lose sight of her feet, and called “Alright, go ahead and close your mouth. Makes the next part easier.”

He did so slowly, and felt butterflies knowing what the “next part” was.

“Good, you’re doing fine. Now tilt your head back, just til I start to slide back. Once I hit the back you can swallow.”

Sans tipped his skull back ever so slowly, until he felt her weight shift backwards. Once she hit the opening of his throat he instinctively gulped, which caused him to jolt a bit in surprise. 

He felt the magical tubing thread along the front of his cervical vertebrae, felt the weight of her body tugging downwards, every little twitch of her tiny body. His fingers flew up to his neck, fingers ghosting over her form contained within himself, until he lost her progress under his clavicles.

It almost felt like his soul was gently bumped aside to allow her to pass through his chest, which left a calm fuzzy feeling. He felt a slight pressure at the top of his belly, then she spilled in fully. 

His soul fluttered like a caged bird, could she hear that? Feel it? He pulled the hem of his shirt up, making his magic transparent so he could check on her. 

“A-are you alright?” he asked, watching her reorient in the new space.

“Peachy! You did it, Sans.” She smiled up at him, utterly at ease.

Seeing that she hadn’t been harmed, his soul settled into a more typical rhythm. “I did, thank you for helping. Please let me know if you want out, alright?”

“Will do. Glad to see you’re calming down.”

“You could tell?”

“Can’t hide much from this perspective. I could hear how uneven your breathing was. Here, maybe this will help to wind down.”

What was she doing? Ooh, he loves the shocks he got when she moved. Her hands were on the floor now, she started to move her hands in circular patterns...? Oh.

Sans melted. That was such a nice feeling, who knew his belly was so sensitive? He dropped his shirt, letting his magic go opaque.

“That’s really nice, wowie. Is it ok if I move though?” He asked.

“Go for it. Lie down if you want.”

He did just that, getting under the covers. He felt her slide around, and once she seemed to resettle, she resumed her rubbing.

Sans purred, which she giggled at. He was feeling far too good to care, dignity be hanged. He laid a hand over where she rested, doing his best to run at where he thought her back was. He felt her lean into the indirect touch, which made him smile.

“Y’know, I can stay overnight if you want.” Lark piped up after a few minutes of silence (barring the happy skeleton sounds).

“I think I’d like that.” Sans replied, feeling pretty sleepy. “Are you sure you’ll be comfortable?”

“Oh yeah, no issue there. You guys are pretty cushy inside, despite the boney exterior.”

Sans chuckled at that. “Ah, good.”

She stopped rubbing (which he was a little sad about) and moved until he felt her weight go still by his spine. 

She fell asleep quickly, her weight going limp and heartbeat (which he could feel if he concentrated) slowed.

A very content skeleton followed his tiny friend into the land of nod not long after.

#undertail vore #undertail underswap vore #soft vore #safe vore #extreme cuddling #willing vore #reluctant pred

[hotel-japanifornia]

Like, I love Miles Edgeworth, but he's overshadowing literally everyone else. Like he's not overrated since he actual holds up to his love, but damn, there are so many fics on him and his story from the og trilogy only. Miles has grown up beyond it and I love him for it since it makes him three dimensional.

Ok, you wanna know what greatly amuses me about you mentioning how people only pay attention to him and his story from the og trilogy only?

Edgeworth plays an important role in 4 of the 5 cases in the original game (3 of 4 if you really hate RFTA and want to exclude it from your mind. Feel free to do so but you’ll be hella frustrated when you play AJ. Unless you liked Ema.)

He only appears in 1 of the four cases in JFA and is mentioned in 2 and cameos in 1. If you don’t count the cameo, which I do, that only adds up to 1 case. Comparatively a small role, but he has a big impact on Franziska’s motivations and is the reason she wants to crush Phoenix so badly. Points to Takumi for not doing a generic “avenge my father” plot. Respect him (and Franziska) for that. He does play an extremely important role in the one case he appears in, so don’t think I’m trying to downplay him or anything.

Edgeworth is majorly absent in the third game. He prosecutes in only one case and that’s his annoying 20 year old self. He comes back in the fifth case to fill in for the defense and does play a hand in Iris and Dahlia switching places. Had it not been for that earthquake, he wouldn’t have freaked out and lost sight of Iris in the first place. He doesn’t do a whole lot else after that though. 

I say this because if you think about it, Edgeworth is only in 7 of the original 14 cases if you count physical appearances only (6 out of 13 in the OG trilogy). While I won’t argue that Edgeworth isn’t important in the cases he’s in because he is totally, I will argue that it does feel odd how the focus is on him so much of the time.

And the thing is, I can see how people would argue how Edgeworth is the central character in the first game. Edgeworth is the character we see grow throughout the course of the game. We learn the most about him than any other character and the events of the game revolve around him (Turnabout Goodbyes, the DL-6 incident, etc) more than other characters besides Maya who shares a connection with him as they both lost parents to the DL-6 incident (how have those two not had more interactions, honestly?) and loses her sister in the second case.

I would argue however, that Edgeworth isn’t the character at the center of the second game although we do see him mentioned in conversations by Franziska and Phoenix. I don’t know why people will acknowledge his “Miles Edgeworth chooses death” note but absolutely refuse to acknowledge how awful of a move that was. The reason being is that it was cryptically worded and anybody reading it would think he killed himself which Franziska and Phoenix did, while Gumshoe was the only one who knew what really happened. I know what the note actually meant (i.e. the death of the prosecutor Edgeworth once was) but still, it was poorly worded. 

In actuality, Phoenix is the protagonist and central character of the second game. He’s the one who goes through the most growth as we see him face a huge moral dilemma in the fourth case where he has to choose between saving his friend or sending a truly guilty man to prison. It’s absolutely interesting to see him in conflict with the character he was up to that point (someone who believed his client was genuinely innocent) and it’s something I think needs to happen more often. By that I mean, defending truly guilty defendants. While I don’t think they should be like Matt Engarde necessarily, it would be interesting to see more truly guilty defendants. (I know there’s one in DGS but not everyone has played that one so I won’t spoil.)

As for the third game, it’s pretty obvious who the main protagonist in that game is. It’s the Fey Clan obviously. Specifically, we learn more about Mia Fey, Phoenix’s mentor, through getting to play as her during the tutorial case and the other tutorial case both of which are short but help us get to know Phoenix’s wise and calm mentor. We see her during her first two cases and even get to witness her taking down Dahlia Hawthorne in an amazingly cool manner (by asking her to prove her innocence by taking Phoenix’s cold medicine which she poisoned). We also see her during her first case which was mentioned in Turnabout Memories and was said to traumatize her so badly that she felt like she was never going to step into court again. Since her opponent, Bratworth, had never lost a case before Turnabout Sisters, we know that the case won’t end well. But even so, it’s what actually happens that makes the case so gutwrenching. Seeing Terry Fawles kill himself on the stand to protect his former girlfriend who was the true killer makes for a saddening end. Regardless of what you think of him as a character, seeing Mia so distraught over not being able to prevent Fawles’ death tugs at your heartstrings. 

What’s even worse is that six months later, she loses her boyfriend when he gets poisoned by Dahlia. Which does raise an interesting question: did she see the case against Wright and take it because she saw Dahlia mentioned in the case files and thought she might be connected to it? It’s likely, seeing as she brought the article talking about Diego’s poisoning with her but who knows? Either way, seeing her so determined to take Dahlia down that she’s willing to have her badge revoked is sincerely cool to watch.

And even in the present day case that Dahlia appears in, Bridge to the Turnabout, Mia doesn’t stop being rivals with Dahlia. When Maya channels Mia to ask her what she should do after Dahlia attacks her, Mia advises her to lock herself up in the Sacred Cavern in the Inner Temple and channel Dahlia in order to protect herself. It’s an extremely risky move on Mia’s part and had Dahlia not been so stubborn in seeing Maya’s corpse for herself without considering that she might be channeling her, Maya could have died of hypothermia in there (which isn’t something I had considered until the last year or so). Still, it works out in the end and Iris and Dahlia-in-Maya’s-body switch places during the second investigation period. Mia then proceeds to exorcise Dahlia out of Maya’s body with Phoenix’s help:

Dahlia: …Grr…Mmm…Nnnn… Grrr… Ahh! M… M… Mia F… F… Fey Mia Fey! Mia Fey! MIA FEEEEY! You… You… spinster!! I was supposed to kill Maya Fey like I swore I would! And if only you had gotten this spiky-haired jerk the guilty verdict… …I wouldn’t have been hanged to death!

Mia: …… True.

Dahlia: …!

Mia: But I think you finally understand, Dahlia Hawthorne. …You will never defeat me.

Dahlia: Wh-What…!? What did you say!?

Mia: Whether you’re alive, dead, or somewhere in between, you will never defeat me. As long as I’m around, you’re destined to lose for all of eternity!

Dahlia: Grrr… Grrrr… Grrrrr…

Phoenix: …I remember what you said earlier in the trial. You said there was no way we could punish you… …because you were already dead.

Dahlia: What about it!?

Phoenix: Then you said… “Even when the body dies, the spirit, the ego, it lives on… forever.”

Mia: …That’s very true, Dahlia. And that’s exactly the punishment you’ll never be able to escape from.

Dahlia: …!

Mia: For all of eternity, you’ll have to remain as Dahlia Hawthorne. A miserable, pathetic, weak creature who can never win at anything… And for you, there is no escape from that. No hope of freedom. Since the day you were executed… …the narrow bridge that once stretched out in front of you has burnt to a crisp!

This causes Dahlia to freak out and pop out of Maya’s body with a extremely loud scream. It’s extremely chilling and awesome at the same time. 

One thing that stands out though, is that defeating Dahlia never stops being Mia’s personal victory as Godot mentions later on.

Godot: The woman who had spiked my scalding hot coffee… Dahlia Hawthorne! Ha…! Good ol’ Mia. She didn’t let me down. She got her revenge before she checked out. In the end… There wasn’t anyone waiting for me when I woke up.

In a way, the way that Mia Fey and Diego Armando go about taking revenge against Dahlia serves an interesting contrast to each other. Mia, although angry at Dahlia for sure, never let her anger consume her when trying to take her revenge on Dahlia. The only thing that Mia sought out to do was to make sure that she received justice for her crimes and upon finally getting Dahlia convicted of murder, moved on with her life. Mia even took Phoenix under her wing, despite his past connection to Dahlia. Even though he really had nothing to do with her crimes and even was supposed to be one of her victims, you can’t help but admire her for that.

On the other hand, Diego Armando never let his hatred of Dahlia Hawthorne go. Even after waking up from his coma and realizing that Mia had gotten revenge for him and got her sentenced to death. He was so blinded by hatred that upon encountering her at the Inner Temple Garden, he stabbed her with the cane sword, killing Misty Fey in the process. And unlike Mia, Diego hated Phoenix and even blamed him for Mia’s death. There’s also a line that suggests that he knew that Phoenix was the one that inadvertently helped Dahlia hide the bottle necklace containing the poison:

Godot: …… I never liked you. Six years ago… …you helped the woman who put me to sleep by hiding her bottle of poison. 

It’s an interesting line, indeed, and implies that Diego’s hatred of Phoenix went beyond Mia’s murder. Because Phoenix “hid” the bottle of poison, Dahlia was never able to be caught for Diego’s poisoning and thus escaped justice. In summary, Mia was able to move on with her life after Dahlia got caught while Diego wasn’t which ended up being his downfall.

I can also see how some people might make a case for Maya going through development of her own throughout Trials and Tribulations. During the second and third case, we see her express doubts about her own abilities as a spirit medium and it’s implied that she’s still shaken up by the murder in Kurain Village to the point that she hasn’t even returned to the village in a while:

Maya: Well, I’m kind of taking a break… I’m having a bit of trouble right now, you know?

Phoenix: (Last year’s incident must still be on her mind… I haven’t seen Maya train at all since then. I think Mia said it’s because Maya’s “at a loss these days”…)

It’s an interesting line, and is definitely one that people seem to overlook while playing through the game. Despite her lack of training however, Maya is still able to channel Mia during the last portion of the Stolen Turnabout. The conversation the two of them have reveals that Maya is going through a dilemma currently.

Mia: I’m just joking, Phoenix. Don’t take everything so seriously. But on the other hand, Maya… She seems kind of lost these days.

Phoenix: You mean about becoming the Master of the Kurain Channeling School?

Mia: Becoming the Master… means saying goodbye to our mother.

Phoenix: You mean Misty Fey…?

Mia: …Watch over her, will you Phoenix?

One thing I find interesting though, is that Maya’s dilemma about becoming the Master isn’t overly prevalent in dialogue. Sure it’s a part of what she goes through over the course of the game but it doesn’t take a huge focus. It’s certainly unique. Here’s one such example in Recipe for Turnabout 

Armstrong: You ‘ave la perfect face for a waitress, you know.

Maya: Um, thanks. I guess if things don’t work out someday, then maybe I’ll be back.

Phoenix: (What things? Is she talking about her being a spirit medium…?)

I honestly appreciate it for it’s subtlety; little character moments like this one, is what adds to the replay value of the games. True, you can just breeze through them, but taking the time to present random things to people can also reveal tons of interesting dialogue that can reveal more about the characters than if you were to do a regular playthrough and do what you need to do to progress further through the case.

All of this culminates in the last case when Maya goes to Hazakura Temple with Pearl and Phoenix to do some training which as mentioned before, she hasn’t really done much of since the Kurain Channeling incident. And unfortunately for her, it ends in disaster with her nearly being murdered by the ghost of her cousin, Dahlia and also witnessing Godot stab the spirit to death which kills her mother in the process.

When we first see Maya in the last trial portion of Bridge to the Turnabout, she’s more traumatized than we’ve ever seen her. And through this line, we get to see how she feels about the Kurain Channeling Technique in her current situation:

Maya: … I… I’m frightened. The Fey clan… I don’t want any more to do with it.

Now, let’s think about what this line means. Maya has dealt with a horrible amount of tragedy in her young life due to her heritage. She lost her mother, her sister left the village partly because she didn’t want to feud with Maya over the title of Master; her aunt plotted to have her convicted for murder and later tried to murder her through her beloved cousin, Pearl; and the one time that she decides to start training again, another tragedy occurs. Her mother was killed right in front of her by a man who was blinded by hatred towards the spirit possessing her body. It’s hard not to see why Maya would not want anything to do with her heritage after all the grief it caused her, so then, why does Maya decide to inherit the title of Master anyway?

Well, here’s the deal: The Fey Clan is extremely screwed up and has caused many of its members grief over the past two years. It’s no secret that the branch family has plotted against the main family before and has done so throughout its history:

Bikini: There is only one heir to the title of “Master” at any time, and it’s usually the eldest. That child becomes the new Master of Kurain, and her daughters, the main family. All other mediums become branch family members, with no hope of controlling the clan. That’s why nothing has changed throughout the history of the clan… Branch families always have and always will plot to erase those of the main family line.

However, Pearl doesn’t hold any sort of resentment towards Maya despite her being the heir to the title of Master. In fact, Pearl adores Maya and vice versa. The only reason she ever went with Morgan’s plan was because she thought by “It’s for the good of the Fey Clan” that her mother meant that her plan would benefit Maya and Pearl both. Maya similarly doesn’t hold any resentment towards Pearl  when she tries to blame herself for the death of Maya’s mother.

If you think about it, the fact that Maya stays and decides to become Master could also considered to be not only a result of her strength but a result of her deciding to fix the screwed up legacy of the Fey clan. As two of the people hurt most by the rivalry between the main family and the branch family, Maya and Pearl could work together to fix their family’s screwed up background and restore the Fey clan to its former glory. That’s the way I see it anyway.

Sorry for my long rant there, the Fey clan is very interesting to me. Honestly though, I’d argue that Edgeworth is more like a tritagonist. He’s extremely important at first but he becomes relatively less important over the course of the trilogy to the point that he’s only ever in one case in his present day form in the last part.

Maya is more or less the deutragonist of the games. She’s in 10 of the 14 cases in the trilogy and 6 of those cases (1-2, 1-4, 2-2, 2-4, 3-2, and 3-5) have her involved majorly in the plot whether it be her being accused of murder, dealing with her and her family history, or kidnapped (in which we get to control her too!). While she isn’t involved in the plots of 1-3 or 2-3 directly, she is the person who convinces Phoenix to take both cases and she even helps Phoenix out in the latter by raising the question of where Max’s bust is located which helps him catch Acro as the true murderer.

However, despite Maya’s overall importance to the trilogy, what stops her from being the main protagonist like Phoenix is that we don’t get to go into her head very often. We see Phoenix react to the situations around him, we get to see his thoughts while dealing with crazy witnesses and when he’s having a difficult time trying to prove something in court. Through this, we get to know Phoenix and in a sense, feel like we can connect with him. Even Edgeworth gets to be played during the first investigation and trial day of Bridge to the Turnabout where like Phoenix, we get to go inside his head and see how he thinks and how he feels about what’s going on around him.

With Maya, the time that we do get to control her in 2-4 is extremely short and doesn’t exactly allow us to get into her head. That’s not a point against her however as we do see her react to what’s going on when we aren’t in control of her. It makes sense that it would be extremely short though, as Maya is currently kidnapped when we do control her and the areas you can have her go aren’t very numerous. 

Still as much as I argue that Phoenix fits the central character and protagonist mold more than Edgeworth and Maya do, I believe that all three characters are important in their own unique ways.

#ace attorney #maya fey #phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #mia fey #diego armando #godot #god this got long #ask

[space-blue]

On the Fire Escape

My second competition win, to my dismay, since it's a romance where no one dies or bleeds out!

Most evenings after work Hatori Sonzai can be found sitting just outside his lounge's window, on the fire escape that hugs the side of his building, watching over the city as the sky is set ablaze by the setting sun, before it fades and darkens like a bruise blooming under cold skin. The best are the short minutes before the terminator comes rushing over the land, when both electric and natural light cohabit, giving a warm, scattered glow to the relentless streets. Day after day and as the seasons change, Hatori drinks this view like precious mead. Sometimes staying minutes under the rain or snow, sometimes long hours into a cool summer night. He has turned this moment of silent contemplation into a personal ritual that helps centre himself and shake off his clients' turmoils that often parasite him long hours after work. The other reason Hatori has gained in the last months to cultivate this habit is coming down the fire escape's metal stairs with beers in her hands.

"Sorry I'm late Ha-san! How are you?"

"That's alright, I'm okay. You?"

"Just okay? Well same here, but look, this should sort us out!"

Hatori needs no invite to take a look. Though it's the bottles she's showing off, it's Jean's curly blond hair, her easy smile and warm manners that captivate him, how they're so at odds with his own straight jet black hair, his dour face and formal attitude, shaped both by work and the reverential distance people often keep augures like him at. She sits by him, folding her legs neatly on a little flat cushion she brings out with her when the weather permits, and proceeds to tell him about her day, how she found one of her students being bullied in the alley behind the studio, how she fought the bullies off, walked the student home and thus discovered the micro-brewery whose hipster product they are enjoying. Though he listens intently, Hatori struggles with the emotions inside him. The way Jean's curls tumble as she tilts her head, how she calls him Ha-san with just enough irony to be perfectly adorable, her quiet, self assured attitude as she shows off her scratched knuckles in the last rays of slanting light, it's all there somewhere, what he loves about his neighbour–but overshadowed by a feeling of loss and yearning for someone else. A betrayal made all the more terrible that it is for a someone he cannot remember. He hates it, how being an augure and helping others can come at the expense of his own private life.

"Whoa, Ha-san? Hatori?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you alright? You seem dazed."

"Sorry, you were saying?"

"Well, I was asking you how was Open Day, but now I assume it wasn't so good?"

"That's right, today's lot was rough. I'm having a hard time going back to my usual self, sorry."

"Oh." Jean's eyes widen a bit, her beer stopped mid swig. "Shit. Want to talk about it, or..?"

Hatori shrugs. It's often the same stories, Open Day is just a bit more desperate. People come to augures with their most pressing questions, to ask the Gods and receive their omens. Booking an augure costs a lot, but regular "Open Days" give anyone who can't afford the usual fee the opportunity to win a free reading; allowing Hatori and his colleagues the chance to confirm that human misery knows no social bounds.

"I first had a man who wanted to know if a late change in career would benefit him. A teacher who'd always dreamt of baking."

Hatori smiles, remembering the gentle mannered man, his soft brown eyes lost behind silver spectacles; tidy, well worn corduroy clothes almost screaming his profession, and only a slight paunch to hint at a love for baked goods.

"I only had to cast the cords for him."

Hatori's beautifully woven strings had fallen down in patterns only meaningful to him, and their message had been rather favourable. "Follow your heart, the omen is good but the Gods bid you know it will be hard work." That's the other side of the job, more counsellor than divine spokesman.

"The second one had a husband who wouldn't give her a penny to spend on getting news of their estranged son. She wanted to know if he was well."

"Was he?"

Cords are for questions about oneself. Asking about others requires deeper connection between augure and client. Hatori had taken the woman's frail hand, put his forehead and nose to hers, and so invited her feelings and memories to flood him. She had asked and the Gods had whispered their answer. Each time, it feels like waking from a dream, saddened by the loss of someone you couldn't remember, yet had loved deeply till you woke.

"I told her he needed her and she had to make a hard choice." Not a very good omen. "Then came the real hard one."

Jean twirls her bottle, patiently waiting for him, and even through the numbness of his heart, he feels warmth for the woman who understands so well.

"She wanted to know if her daughter was still alive."

A poor mother whose child had disappeared without a trace, leaving nothing behind but harrowing doubts and a criminal investigation file covered in dust by years without clues. Hatori had not cared to know how many times the woman had applied to Open Days before getting the audience to ask the question she almost didn't want an answer to. Uncertainty left room for hope. In the States, where an omen is word of law, Hatori's verdict would seal the case.

"From the long face I take it she was dead?"

"Yes. And long dead, at that."

Hatori had performed the connection, heard the question, and felt the crushing wave of years of motherly love engulfing him, followed by the crippling cold tide of loss, like a great current had swept him under polar ice and pinned him there, trapped in time even as agonizing months ticked by, the face of a daughter he'd never had unchanging before his ageing eyes. It had punched a hole in his heart in the shape of a little girl, and through it had poured the Gods' ill omen. Long dead.

"At least she can grieve now," Jean says, rubbing his shoulder.

"Then I had a last lady for the cords," Hatori says, shaking himself up. "Jealous, like so often... Left John and Wu to share my last two people."

Being the head augure of his western-style shrine had to come with some sort of benefit. In the cases where the clients enquires after someone they hate, the augure is often left pointlessly angry and irritated. Many augures of his standing had long stopped doing Open Days, so Hatori figured he could at least cut himself some well needed slack.

"Too bad," Jean sighs, looking back over the city, "I thought maybe I'd ask you for an omen tonight."

Hatori gapes at her, stunned. An omen for Jean, who makes a bigger deal of his having a car to borrow than the Gods' words to share? Who hasn't even asked for a word of luck or a forecast in all the months since she moved in and joined him on the fire escape? He cannot tell if it's terror or excitement he's feeling, if he wants to please her or dreads the sort of question that would be important enough for her to ask.

He looks at her, smiling at him and waiting. He knows she'd leave him be if he asked, but curiosity burns too deep.

"What kind of omen were you after?"

"I wanted to know–" Her hand falls on his.

"Wha–"

Her body twists, propelling her too close, too fast to avoid collision. Her forehead bumps into his, and her voice explodes through his skull–"If the man I love loves me back."

The vision rushes in, and Hatori feels his heart swell, anxious–her feelings, not his. Jean, shy and timid? He has no time to wonder. There is a man she loves, and he sees him through her eyes–his dark hair he lets her pleat, the way his M shaped mouth curls and brightens his serious face when he smiles just for her, his quiet regard and attentions, and the kindness that flows not from what he says but the way she sees him lead his life...

It takes the longest time for him to realise–Hatori has never seen himself in a vision.

But the instant her question makes sense, the silence in his mind becomes loud, resounding! There is no voice whispering the truth to him, no push from the Gods. He needs none. In that moment, Hatori is a God, who knows the answer, who can speak for himself.

"Yes, he does."

Their noses bump, she kisses him, and laughs, and wipes his cheeks.

"I do, I do," he says against her lips, "I love you too!"

~~ April 2017 – Theme : Omens P.s: Sonzai means "being" in Japanese. Bit of a silly personal joke.

#original writing #original work #competition #win #fantasy #original story

[pffbts]

↳ bts: the way i see them.

―author`s note: this is a rough characterization which might not all be the real thing. literally, the longest thing i wrote here. even though it was exhausting, i can say i`m proud of myself. i hope you understand my pov for each and every one of them. and if you want you can tell me which one caught your eye the most in my ask box! anyway, happy reading, lovelies!<3

 ―seokjin

you`ll feel like the luckiest person, i swear.

as if that`s the home you need.

because seokjin is a homebody, as much as i`ve witnessed him to be.

he`ll always cook―yes, that`s his number one business.

he`s not going to let you come any closer to the kitchen or the gas or the microwave even though you continue to plead him that it`s alright and that you can at least make him a nice cup of tea or coffee once in a while.

in return of that he will tell you to treat him with tea or coffee at some fancy café, thus involving the investment of your credit/debit card.

now to the good part: pyjamas shopping

ever heard of that? no, i guess.

but it`s like a free item, or like a compulsory item/characteristic that comes with dealing and having seokjin in your life.

he loves his pyjamas, that`s his ‘loml’

probably owns too many for you to steal and he won`t even notice, i guarantee you.

people usually go for window shopping at some fancy store but kim seokjin will forget about window shopping and enter into the store to buy bear printed pyjamas.

if he`s in a good mood, he`ll probably buy you some too.

he`ll always end up calling you from the other side of the store in that loud, childish enthusiastic voice to see if the pink suits him or the baby blue one.

“which one do you think i`ll look good in?”

“jin, it`s not a suit. just get something that`s comfortable for you.”

“yahhh! i want to be presentable to you. choose one!”

against your wish, he`ll end up buying three sets of pink pyjamas.

you wanted the blue one, btw.

now to the best part of the century: guitar obsession.

literally, i feel like there are not many people who know that seokjin, indeed self-taught himself the guitar during the wings tour.

i, myself was so happy to see that.

he looked so calm and himself when he played it.

tbh if you ever hear him once playing it, you`ll be obsessed.

you`ll drag his guitar every time and request him to play it.

seokjin will be literally standing in his towel, his upper body still wet after the a nice warm shower and you`ll be sitting on your bed telling him to start playing.

your reason: “you look hot. now play me some sexy songs.”

seokjin doesn`t know why but you`re his cutest lil shit.

you never fail to make him laugh out loud or fall in love with you harder than the last day.

sometimes his ears would go red if he continues to stare at you for more than two minutes.

he gets flustered too soon and ends up gathering his composure after too many loud bursts of whining.

seokjin is the type of person to take care of our food supplies, he will not forget to pick you up from your workplace/college on time, never fails to make the most delicious tiffin.

like who even needs canteen food and fancy decorative restaurant food when you have none other than kim seokjin to take care of you.

he`ll be a little savage sometimes but that`s okay―it`s his way of loving you.

 at the end of the day, keeping you happy and content is his only business.

―yoongi

uncharacteristic at its finest.

no doubt the reason you`ll fall in love with him genuinely would be because of his uncharacteristic smile―those savouring gummies on display for you to eye feast on.

he`s the kind of person who will be the reserved and shy ones during the first couple of meetings but then as they open up like turning pages after pages in those story books, you`ll end up putting your palm up against his mouth to stop him from continuing his further liberal and capitalistic jokes.

the reason you`ll end up never leaving him because he was holding your hand all the time.

strangely that`s a very cherry on the top situation you can ever encounter with min yoongi

this man, however poised he is, never fails to make you feel special and it`s not like making food for you or arranging your clothes.

but rather he will look into the tiniest details and whenever you`ll scrunch your nose at that eye shadow shade, he`ll jump in from the other side of the room―his thousand dollars headphone around his neck like those three dollars chain (you know what i did right there, yes bye.) and tell you that you look beautiful nonetheless.

you`ll end up having a no make-up look and he`ll still never waver to look at your direction all the time.

 he`s just that kind of person―never underestimating the real you and always silently curious of what it is that makes up to you.

the most fun part with yoongi will be napping―yes, i understand that`s the dumbest thing i ever said but see what i`m trying to imply here.

you`ll never be bored because he `ll find some reason to make you feel less bored.

he`ll throw different ideas about how he wants to nap and what he wants to do.

you`re glad that one of that idea actually worked aka napping in different countries.

but it`ll be six hours with snacks spread in front of both of you and yoongi would be lying on the sofa talking like a drunk yet a sane person and you`ll be munching onto the lays while discussing a serious topic of napping.

a very peculiar person but unusually a good peculiar, you see.

for most of the time, he will not give any effort and just silently let you know that he loves you but when he gets loud, boy, does he get loud.

he`ll end up writing 349873897483 songs about you and you`ll never get bored of them cause they`re made with love.

he compares his love for you like poetry―literally liberal poetry.

i`ve no idea how he does that but that man―*sigh* you should be blessed you met him, held him and talked with him because i don`t think you`ll ever regret loving that one man. 

  ―hoseok

hmmm, first of all, figures, sun, laughter.

those are the three things that define jung hoseok of who he is.

also, another word―the much need glucose of my scorching Indian summer days.

alright, that was a phrase.

anyway, hoseok isn`t an easy person.

i can assure you that because the people who laugh a lot, talk a lot and are loud af 24/7 are the ones who hide the most.

it`ll take a lot of sad movies, a lot of sad memories to erupt at the same time for him to tear up.

i guess no one will fucking forget mama 2018.

hoseok isn`t an easy person but he`ll be the easiest one to talk to first.

it`s the understanding part that will take a while. but all that is in the insides.

let`s start with the outside―that is, his bright side.

he`s a dancer, so obviously he`ll be the energy in-between both of you.

sometimes i don`t know why but having him around you will feel like as if he`s transferring bit by bit of his energy into you and soon, you`ll find yourself swaying with that, swaying and moving with him.

that`s where your freedom of laughing freely starts, you`ll throw your hands in the air while he`ll be quick to hold onto them tightly and make you twirl on your own.

he`ll make those sounds as if putting the bgm to shame.

tbh having jung hoseok in your life is like living a constant life on a reel with sounds providing the perfect synopsis to your actions.

he`s like tunes you`ll never end up hating but nevertheless love to hold onto.

hoseok isn`t much of a work freak.

but he`ll be there to make things helpful for you, like if you need help with some stuff―he`ll be always up for some hand.

of course, you won`t have to be worried about the neatness of your room.

he`ll always end up putting things at the right places by the start of your week but will be expecting to meet with a mess of what you`re by the starting of the weekend.

but he doesn`t mind.

seriously, he doesn`t. yes, he does get frustrated but that`ll only show at the point when you both are in a stable relationship with each other. in the beginning i guess, he`ll exhale loudly, sigh a lot while arranging your stuff but he`ll not complain.

even though he`ll nag at the stable point of your relationship, he`ll just try to put things together inside you―sometimes changes are good, right??

also, the thing about hoseok is that―his temper fluctuates a lot.

but just like i said before, he won`t show that much often, not until he`s too much in this ride with you.

if you, by any chance break that tight and taut shell of his then he`ll breakdown a lot.

he`ll let you take a stroll inside his mind and especially his heart.

he`ll start getting raw with whatever he`s going through. but he`ll continue to assure you that he`s still the same happy guy whenever he`s around you

the reason, i guess, he doesn`t show these insides of his is because he doesn`t want you to feel down. he doesn`t want to become a different set of sadness on top of your own.

he wants to keep things neat, bright and vibrant for you.

he would rather be the brightest thing in this room of yours than the moon that gets overshadowed by clouds on some frequent occasions.

to conclude everything, he wants to live happily and he wants you to live happily before both of your time fades away.

―namjoon

*sighs*

a calming yet chaotic person striving hard to let you know that happiness exists in the saddest places on this earth.

yep, that`s what namjoon is.

keeping up with namjoon is difficult because he doesn`t blend in with every situation.

he likes to keep that distance you can`t see with naked eyes.

it would take a few moments for you to understand that this guy isn`t always what he let people show.

just like hoseok, namjoon has two sides of himself but for namjoon`s case, he lives in his insides rather than outsides like hoseok.

he keeps things real, and to do that he writes a lot.

a whole ‘mono’ exists to prove that point.

forget about his use of auto-tune here and there in the songs of that playlist and just go through the words.

he makes you think even though you don`t think that often and he`ll make you google things up to understand the depth of the facts he stated.

he keeps things simple.

from his clothes to his mind―he hates complicating things and that`s such a beautiful thing i can never fully describe you.

he hobbies are simple too―going for casual walks and visiting non-historical places aka parks, lake sides, river sides.

cycle is his best friend. #KimDaily is proof.

physically through a stout man, he doesn`t carry himself like that.

i`m going to say this again and again until you slap me hard but namjoon is a simpleton―he keeps thinking too simply that words don`t get stuck and gets overflowed through his hand.

i personally, relate to that.

but he`s overthinker―strange combination, i know but he thinks and complicates things a lot which makes him frustrated and so he writes a lot.

that`s the exact reason he`s always the one who contributes to the music making of Bangtan a lot more than the other three writers (hoseok & yoongi)

he runs out of words―yes, namjoon do runs out of words. if you watch some of his interviews, he stops and thinks what word to choose at that certain situation.

and you want to know why? because he has too many things at the same time in his mind and sometimes he can`t even pinpoint on single syllable over the other.

keeping up with namjoon means keeping up with his philosophical side too.

you`ll probably end up woke till 4 in the morning because human emotions are a mind-blowing concept to discuss with kim namjoon and sure it is! when it involves namjoon, it`ll always turn out to be the best thing to talk about.

namjoon`s source of entertainment isn`t for everyone.

for me, i think it`s perfect.

library dates? fuck, that`s better than sex.

to love him is to love him with your insides because this man doesn`t believe in the outsides of that person.

he prefers to dwell in the insides and pull out the string which will become the next topic of debate for both of you.

he`ll keep you on your toes when he finishes a book because then he`ll tell you everything about the characters which you, yourself couldn`t find.

he`ll tell you about things you never knew and you`ll realize that he`s by far the best thing after google.

he`s the nerd that is handsome, strong and had beautiful hands which are soft like feather.

so hold onto them tightly and don`t forget to give him his kisses.

―jimin

park jimin, you beautiful creature.

first of all, thank his parents.

listen, this man is the epitome of love.

he has always been that hard-working kid at the front of your class, never getting distracted. always loving what he does at that moment.

his parents are supportive of what he does and he never discourages them.

instead he saddens himself by degrading himself.

nothing makes me happy than knowing that he is in a better place of mind now, that he calls himself cute this days, that he loves the word ‘lovely’ too much.

 that he says, ‘i love you’ too aggressively in English these days.

i think smile suits him better than those smexy sunglasses, right?

talking about sunglass―btw, just like seokjin`s pyjama obsession, i think jimin has a knack for buying too many aesthetic coloured sunglasses.

you`ll probably end up buying too many of them too if you ever go out with him.

he`ll always make sure you`re getting enough share of food and everything necessary to survive in life.

he`ll always look out for the time you spend overworking yourself and drag you to take a rest.

but when you do the same, he`ll be like ‘babe, no worries. see i`m so strong!’

he is the kind of person i fucking need in life.

the kind of person who listens and doesn`t stop himself from crying along with you.

he`ll always lend you that undivided attention, that unshared shoulder to lean onto.

he`ll pick up the pieces for you and give you the time and space.

never will he once try to invade a space inside you without your permission.

though a flirty type of person, he is serious too.

he knows when to draw the line and the reason he is like that maybe because he loves skinship a lot.

yep, even though i`m not a big fan of skinship, park jimin sure makes me wonder what`s it like to cuddle for three hours with the loml.

thank you, jimin, now i`m depressed.

i don`t know about kinks that much but park jimin 3873873% has a praise kink.

and sure why the fuck not.

he`s after all a very beautiful, god-like person from inside and out and you better give him some love while passing by the street beside him.

100% shirt guy aka my type.

99.9% of the times that i`ve seen jimin, he`s always wearing light coloured or pastel shaded shirt and boy, he looks so good in them.

he looks better when his hair is half-wet and it`s messy.

he looks more beautiful when his face is bare and his eyes don`t have that perfect eye shadow.

his eye smiles. f u c k.

you`ll end up squeezing his face 23.5 hours a day and he won`t mind because he likes the way your skin feels against him.

also, just like hoseok his temper is very similar too. so i won`t explain much on that cause it`s too similar for me. like, no wonder whoever made them roommates, they know what`s cooking.

you`ll probably end up staying up another night with him watching too many cat videos. it`s thing that come in the whole package so you really can`t avoid even if you`re not a cat person.

on a serious note: the more you give him, the more he`ll cross the boundary of love. he`ll make you overwhelmed and thirsty with the needs.

he`ll not stop until he gives his all to you.

he`ll want you to keep going on with your life even though he knows it`s hard. he`ll give you his voice, his shoulders, his chest to rest for a while―to make you distract, to let you think of nothing but the warmth that radiate through his shirt.

he`ll probably end up loving you more than what`s meant to be and you`ll always end up thinking what did exactly you do to deserve such a precious human being.

―taehyung

i`m really tired but he`s my ultimate bias, the loml so here we go.

wow, i`m already blushing.

anyway, let`s go!

kim taehyung is the perfect definition of loving some fictional character so much that you want them to be real.

he`ll do the most animated stuff in real life and you`ll question your eyes.

but he`ll prove you wrong.

he`ll walk up to you, put on a simple snapback cap and a simple white/black t-shirt and boom! he`s the boy next door or the senior in school you`ve a crush on.

he stops everything from spinning around you and never hesitates to be honest with you.

for me he`s the most inside person ever. more than both namjoon even.

like namjoon can be vocal about his thought a few time but taehyung―no, at least i`ve not seen him much often.

even if he does, he will not talk much about himself.

he`ll try to sidetrack the conversation and make it about more of the others than of his.

taehyung dwells with the insides that continues to remain a secret to me.

if you think about it much harder, we basically know nothing about him apart from his little hobbies.

but the few things that you`ll end up encountering with him are: reading too many manga/comics over time and comparing the number of aesthetic earrings of each other.

taehyung`s wishes and habits are innocent like even though he`s a completely different person on stage.

but we all know that.

it`s because that`s a stage and you can`t just reveal the roughest patches of your character to a whole audience waiting to feed their insatiable hunger.

even though he likes investing in clothes and accessories, he does it to distract himself.

he`s the kind of person who doesn`t go out very often stays up inside his room with a jar of mixed fruit jam and bread on top of the bedside cupboard to diminish the sudden hunger while he`s binge-watching the newest anime.

he`ll end up listening to too many songs at the same time because he`s in that mood.

the one thing i love about him is that he loves to remember the little things that people usually forget about each other or the moment they`re living in.

he`ll remember the feelings, the way his heart swelled up when he looked at you, or the way his mouth wavered when he couldn`t scold his favorite character for doing something foolish.

he loves the little things and for me even though he looks into those details he never judges them.

he will respect you and never discourage you to be what you really are.

he will expect you to do the same thing in return.

dates with him will involves―too many junk foods, too much time to spend in museums and learning the names of capitals, too many time spent in loose clothes.

he`ll always be the type of rather buy clothes online than going store to store for that perfect fit.

also, apart from seokjin, i think taehyung is another homebody.

maybe that`s the reason he knows where to draw the line and never cross what he shouldn`t.

even though he`s a homebody, he isn`t much of a help with household works but tbh that doesn`t even matter.

if you want you can be the mess together. if you want you can spend a whole day cleaning while laughing at each other`s stupid mishaps.

i think those days will turn out well if you resonate enough with him because he`ll make sure to gift you the same resonance.

―jeongguk

will he ever stop being the cutest brat in the whole world?

i personally, don`t want him to stop.

jeon jeongguk, you mastermind of weightlifting.

first of all, being with him mean he`ll definitely use you as a weight lifting object or like being the weight which he can keep up with.

meaning, out 5/7 days in a week, you`ll end up half-asleep at 4 in the morning while sitting Indian style on top of his back while he does push-ups.

he`ll let you sleep for those extra hours later on though.

i mean he grew up well with seven characters inside him.

so basically you`ll find all of them inside him.

being with him is like being with seven men at the same time but jeongguk has his own flavour too.

even though he`ll act like his hyungs, he`ll have you a taste of his own at that stable point of your relationship with him.

first he`ll show you his fun side, his strong muscle side but then as times passes, as seasons come along with the progress of your relationship with him, he`ll show you the bigger picture.

the bigger picture that is him sitting his purple coloured studio listening to the saddest love songs, trying to write the happiest lyrics, eating too many foods as occasional mukbangs.

he`ll end up crying a lot and you`ll end up becoming his side pillow most of the time.

but it`ll be too overwhelming on your side because he`ll become the small spoon and you`ll feel like you`re holding the whole solar system in your arms with hot and cold combined.

like taehyung, he liked storing memories but for him to notice the details takes a while because he`s still a kid and innocent and most importantly, impatient.

he`ll roll the clip for the tenth time and then he`ll realize the detail and when he does, boy, have you seen that smile?

ugh, my chest hurts.

for him, catching details come with the person who holds them. for example, have you seen the way he looks up to namjoon or like how he always gives jimin special attention.

he knows who needs what but he waits for his chance.

sometimes as for his young age, he sure does jump onto the conclusion but that`s just childish and you shouldn`t take that side of him seriously.

clearly, he`s joking.

but jeongguk knows where to joke and where to not.

for me, gguk is the one among all the seven who possess the most flaws.

he has a lot of rough edges and he needs some polishing on that.

but that`s acceptable. he`s literally watching six different types of human being all the time and he`s clearly confused unknowingly whom to completely follow.

so i feel like at some point in his 30s, jeongguk will become what he really is.

for now, he`s young and the youngest of his group so he`ll be okay.

he`ll grow up strong and be the best boy in the world.

so yes, give him the love he needs and never let him stop from showing his true colours because i`m sure, he`s something more than what meets the eyes.

#bts fanfics #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts text posts #bts rm #kim namjoon #namjoon imagines #hoseok #BTS j-hope #bts jung hoseok #hosoek imagines #yoongi #bts suga #yoongi imagines #min yoongi #seokjin #kim seokjin #bts jin #seokjin imagines #jimin #bts jimin #park jimin #jimin imagines #taehyung #kim taehyung #bts v #taehyung imagines #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook

[phantomphangphucker]

Phango - The Baffled, Braised and Butchered

(Wes Weston + Someone Dies)

Wes pays attention, he always does. Especially when it came to Danny Fenton/Phantom. And today there’s something wrong and down right predatory about him.

Wes slams his locker door shut while squinting at Danny ‘Fenton’. ‘Something’s up with him...’. Wes damn well knew Danny was Phantom, even confronted him over it. It was absolutely infuriating that no one believed him and then Danny practically rubbed it in his face.

But all that resulted in him finding as much damn evidence as he possibly could and keeping an extremely close eye on Danny. Squinting his eyes even more at catching Danny sneering meanly at his friends' backs as soon as they look away from him. ‘Odd...he often makes faces at people but they’re always more goofily mocking or annoyed, not mean’.

So Wes opts to discreetly follow after him, crouching low and skittering across the linoleum floor. Sticking his head around a corner spotting Danny head into his exam classroom. He was about to just head to his own class when he jerks to hide behind the corner slightly more at spotting Jazz creeping up to the classroom door with what looks like a weapon. ‘Strange. Are ghosts overshadowing people close to Danny again or-OH WHAT THE?!?’. Wes goes slightly wide-eyed as something just seems to taser her and she passes out, promptly getting dragged away by an invisible something. Now Wes is officially opting to just skip class and wait for Danny to get out of his exam.

Nothing else weird happens but Wes is firmly hit by this feeling of wrong when Danny walks out, practically marching with a malicious smirk on his face. ‘Could it be that Danny’s the one overshadowed this time? Doppelgänger situation? Clones? Lots of options, not enough information...yet’.

He waits until the very second where Danny disappears around the corner, quickly skittering across the floor to look around the corner. Moving again as Danny disappears out the front doors. Peaking his head out the door and glancing up at the classroom windows. ‘Drat, Lancer’s watching’, frowning deeply and looking back to watch Danny march off.

Deciding the rest of school can screw it because he is curious, Wes goes the back way around the school. He’s positive Danny’s going home, so he books it down an alleyway hoping to at least catch a glimpse of Danny quickly enough to actually confirm that he walked/flew into his house. ‘At least it’s easy to position myself. For someone with such a ‘hectic’ ‘life’ Danny had plenty of routines. Always went home the same way...well, unless he was knowingly being followed by anyone other than me’, grumbling incoherently to himself slightly, ‘since he doesn’t give a damn if I’m following. And if Danny comes back through a different route, that’ll confirm it’s not actually Danny’.  

Now what Wes wasn’t expecting was to be tapped on the shoulder, instantly whirling around, ‘shit! Did a parent or teacher spot m-’, Wes’s mind screeches to a halt when he finds himself blinking up at a smirking Danny.

Danny chuckles darkly, “always so predictable Wes”, before pulling back his fist and promptly punching Wes in the face, hard. Just before being met by darkness Wes thinks, ‘okay, definitely not normal Danny’.

Wes comes to with a groan in an alleyway, blinking and lolling his head around before squinting, glimpsing what looks like blurry crouching legs with arms resting on the knees and hands dangling loosely. Jerking as whoever speaks, instantly recognising Danny’s voice, “wakey wakey Wesley”.

Blinking a bit ‘okay, okay. There’s that stupid mocking tone he seems to reserve for me. So this is definitely Danny. Something’s just...wrong’. Squinting at Danny as his vision clears up, “what’s up with you this time Phantom”.  

Danny chuckles and fiddles with his fingers like he doesn’t give half a damn, “nothing to worry your pretty ginger head about”.

Wes glares at Danny after flicking his eyes around some, “then why have you dumped me in a pile of trash in some alley?”, Wes goes and pushes himself up. Rubbing at his sore face, ‘at least he didn’t break anything in my face. Why’d he even do that? He never hits humans like that. And the way he’s following me with his eyes is extremely predatory and off... If this is Danny, which I’m sure he is, something weird is going on in his head’.

Danny chuckles and stands up fully, hands in his pocket, “you could say it’s symbolic. Getting rid of the trash”. Wes promptly backs up against the wall as Danny takes a few fast steps towards him and sneers cruelly.

Wes is officially actually worried, watching Danny tilt his head and his eyes turning red. ‘Red eyes...red eyes...hmmm, okay, I’ve seen this before. The circus thing. Mind control. But that doesn’t seem...right’. Squinting at Danny, who’s just standing there looking somewhat contemplative. Wes snaps, feigning confidence and aggression, “what? Trying for a scarier eye colour? I don’t give a damn about your ‘angry eyes’. So why?”.

Danny chuckles and pushes a finger against Wes’s forehead, making him bang the back of his head against the brick wall, “always so curious. Too bad for you I don’t care”, Danny shrugs loosely and looks around at the sidewalls some before snapping his head back to Wes.

Wes can’t help but cringe internally at the glaringly inhuman behaviours, ‘he’s a dramatic bastard but not to this degree and- since when?!?’. Wes blinks and eyeballs the damn forked tongue Danny flicks out at him and promptly licks up the side of his face. Wes muttering, “What. The. Fuck. Phantom”.

Danny chuckles and promptly grabs Wes’s throat, pinning him by his neck against the wall. Wes grabs at Danny's wrist while Danny leans his face in, “the others are useful. I can’t just get rid of them quite yet”, Danny chuckles again, “but you? You, I can play with and kill”.

Wes freezes ‘WHAT? If there’s one thing everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, knows about Phantom, it’s that he does. not. kill. Or even seriously harm. Even damn mind control couldn’t make him let someone die. The absolute fresh Hell?’. Wes squeezes and claws at Danny’s wrist more genuinely as he feels Danny tighten his grip, fairly certain that Danny sliced his neck based on the sudden sharp pain. Not even getting a chance to try and choke out words before Danny gives him a harsh gut punch and simply drops him onto the ground.

Wes coughs and groans before scrambling up and attempting to book it away, only for something to grab around his ankle and yank him across the ground, back towards Danny; who puts a foot down on Wes’s chest. Wes grabs his ankle and coughs, “why? Why are you doing this? This isn’t like you Phantom”. ‘Did he finally lose it? Someone push him too far? Ow, fuck. For once I’m actually missing the mocking green-eyed Danny...’.

Danny laughs, and it’s a mean cold laugh, “because it’s fun”, leaning down over Wes’s face, “you want my advice kid? This is how you really get to be a gumshoe”.

“Who the fuck are yo-”, Wes gets cut off by Danny pushing his foot down hard enough to perforate through Wes’s lower abdomen. Stabbing one hand into Wes’s leg and tearing out a chunk of flesh, cackling and wiggling the hunk of meat in front of his and Wes’s face, “now that’s my kind of steak-out”.

Danny squishes the meat up in one hand, letting the blood drip down onto his forked tongue. While he cups the side of Wes’s face with the other hand, smearing around some blood that dribbles out of Wes’s mouth, “I am Danny. I’m very much the Phantom you are oh so obsessed with. I just grew up”.

Wes’s bleary eyes go wide as Danny transforms into this massive caped version of Phantom. ‘Wrong. Just....so, wrong. This is bad, really really bad. Have to...have to get away’. Wes grabs at ‘Phantom’s’ ankle frantically, spreading around bits of gore and functionally making it impossible for him to achieve any kind of grip; his one leg shaking from the pain of the large hole torn in it.

‘Phantom’ chuckles and wiggles his foot from side to side inside Wes’s torso, clearly enjoying the squelching sounds that makes. Before Wes goes even more wide-eyed at this ‘Phantom’ putting a clawed hand to his chest and pushing, tearing through the flesh and promptly snapping off part of a lower rib. While Wes makes strangled gargling sounds, jerking slightly and hacking out bits of blood and phlegm.

‘Phantom’ pulls out the rib chunk and bites part of it off with a loud snap before throwing the rest to the side and shoving all his fingers into Wes’s mouth. Chuckling, “rest in pieces you sad sad excuse for a sleuth”.

Wes makes attempted motions to grab at ‘Phantom’s’ hand start but he’s honestly far too weak. Thinking groggily, ‘evil future Danny. I’m going to die. This pain. I want to. Least I...figured it out, fir-’. His thoughts getting cut off by ‘Phantom’ yanking at his mouth, tearing apart Wes’s jaw like a bear trap; splattering blood all over his widely grinning face. While simultaneously standing up and tearing the head off the body.

Dan holds up half of the head and chuckles, letting the rest of the body drop to the ground. He spins around the head by its hair before letting it fly away to splatter against a wall, all the while playing with the blood on his other hands' claws. Chucking again before turning intangible to phase off the blood and viscera, before changing back to the form of his younger self and heading ‘home’ with a satisfied smile.

End.

#danny phantom #phandom #phango19 #wes weston #someone dies #torture #gore #blood #death #character death #violence #murder #sorta cannibalism #’cause tecnically Dan’s not human at all so.... #when being too nosey gets you bit in the ass #dark danny #dan #dan phantom #goring #tue #the ultimate enemy #wes fucking dies #have a fic suck my dick #my writing #phantomphangphucker

[ikhnyshy]

Then and Now 5

Fandom: Fairy Tail | Pairing: GRUVIA | Multichapter | Rated: M Link Fanfiction net Chapter 5: Trust.

He loved Juvia.

The confession alone was enough for a wave of negative feelings to wash over him like a tsunami. The wonderfulness that came with being in love was immediately overshadowed.

Fear. Uncertainty. Pride. They all took him down a dark path that only brought him pain.

After all those months, after suffering for so long, he was finally ready. Gray was willing to leave all that darkness and look into that feeling he feared so much. He was ready to dive in head first and fight for something else, something that would bring him closer to happiness.

The happiness that he hadn't felt in a long time…..

It wasn't unknown to him. Once in a while, he gave himself to that warm and pleasant sensation and for a moment, only for a moment, he let that feeling consume him.

He had happiness in his hands and let it escape, like water between his fingers. He watched as it slipped away. He lost it, too consumed by the darkness of his fears. But no more. He wouldn't let it escape again.

The ice wizard felt his mouth widen into a smile. It has been so long since he smiled….

He saw the imposing building of the Guild in the distance and made his way towards it.

The nervousness and uncertainty stirred in his stomach. It wouldn't be easy to take the first step towards Juvia and get her to listen to him, but Gray was determined. He would do anything and everything again and again until she was willing to hear him out.

Without realizing, he began to run, the fresh air whispering past his face softly as his quick steps took him along the sidewalk beside the river. He needed to get there. Throwing all of his doubts aside, the feeling of freedom filled his veins, rushing through his body. He hadn't felt like this in a long time, and a part of him told him that everything would be fine, that after talking with her they could start from they left off and they could be happy. Together.

He opened the doors wide, the action producing a loud noise that attracted the attention of everyone present. Ignoring the looks, Gray searched for the blue-haired girl watching every corner of the room.

Gajeel was standing next to Levy, his red eyes staring at him for a moment, then he looked back at the script mage who was absorbed in a book. The action was enough for the ice user to understand that Juvia was not there. Disappointed surged through him immediately, invading his once happy mind.

With his usual apathetic expression, he approached the bar. Being who she is, Mirajane was already waiting for him, a jar of beer in hand, which she served to him with a kind smile on her face.

"You came back quickly," Mirajane said, wiping down the bar, "How was your mission?" She asked, curiously.

"Easy," He answered simply and drank the contents of his drink in one gulp, "Where is Juvia?" He asked, feigning indifference. The bartender's head shot up in surprise, since when did he care where she was?

"She went on a job," She answered as she refilled his jar, "She'll be back tomorrow," She continued before returning to her previous work. Gray nodded and got up from his place.

He could feel Mira's questioning eyes burning a hole through his back, but he ignored her.

Walking to the board, he hesitated on whether or not to take a job to pass time or to rest until the next day so he wouldn't miss the return of the Water Mage he so desperately wanted to see.

His eyes found the mission of the lava monster and was surprised to see that it was still available. The reward was ridiculously tempting and wasn't marked as a particularly difficult mission (although he did notice the need for a group or an experienced magician). His fingers slid by the paper, but he decided not to take it.

"Mira, I think I'm gonna rest," He said, looking at his friend and greeted her with a wave, "I'll be back tomorrow,"

While walking home, he told himself that he would not change his decision in any way by waiting another day, he hoped that with a restful night, it would be easier to think of the words he had to say. The words that had been swirling around his brain for the past few months or so, the words that haunted him, yet they were the words he couldn't let go no matter what he did.

If he wanted things to change between him and Juvia he had to take that step, the one that seemed impossible only a few months ago. But it needed to be done.

He had to do it if he wanted them to further their relationship. Man, he did want them to be more than they were now. He wanted to see her smile again and wanted to be the one behind her smile and pretty eyes that used to light up when they saw him

He cringed as he remembered their previous encounters, now her eyes were filled with sadness. As if though the very sight of him caused her pain.

...

Gray felt a tingly sensation fall on his skin, and he looked up to see the sun peeking from its spot. It was just beginning to rise when he'd decided to get out of his bed to get to the guild first thing this morning.

"What a horrible night," He mumbled when he'd gotten up. His head was spinning, and his body demanded him to continue sleeping.

The night was difficult for the Ice Mage; the nightmares invaded him, plaguing his dreams.

Gray struggled against his own unconsciousness during the early morning, recognizing the irrational fear behind the disturbing images that interrupted his slumber.

He was still afraid to love. For Mavis' sake! He was still afraid to be loved!

The possibility of being a magnet of misfortune for anyone who had the bad luck of being by his side was still as high as a year ago. Nothing had changed in him to make him think that it was not dangerous to love him.

But this time….he wanted to fight. He wanted to fight against those demons that consumed his inner thoughts. He didn't want to listen to them and let them win. Not this time.

The last twelve months were real torture for him, and he believed, he had to believe, that Juvia also suffered from the estrangement…

He waited for her at the entrance of the guildhall, arms crossed, leaning against the wall near the front door. His face was still marked by his restless night, his eyes watery from lack of sleep, his body ached, he yawned more often than he would have preferred, and he had an uncontrollable urge for caffeine.

But he would not move until he talked to her (or at least until he tried).

When hours passed, all his did was sit on the floor. Even his companions were beginning to grow suspicious of what he was doing as they greeted him at the entrance, but still Gray did not move. He simply responded evasively and remained there waiting.

At midday, his stomach roared with hunger, reminding him that he had not eaten breakfast either. He ignored it, even though the throbbing pain of the empty stomach remained present. His bad mood increased because of the lack of food.

Finally, all his wait was worth it.

He got up slowly, feeling his muscles protest that were weak from fatigue. He didn't notice though; his gaze was fixed on the blue dot that was coming in the distance. Juvia was returning from her mission and Gray felt his heart stir anxiously in his chest. An involuntary smile crept onto his face, he was too tired to try and hide it. He walked towards her, his feet shuffling along, then, somehow, he found the strength to move faster.

"I was waiting for you," He told her when he got to her. Juvia looked at him with a frown and passed by him as if he didn't exist whatsoever.

"Hey!" He called out.

"Juvia doesn't want to talk to Gray-sama!" She exclaimed, her voice sounding more annoyed than last time, but Gray was grateful to hear her address him.

"We need to solve this," He said, gesturing between him and her, and she stopped, turning to look at him.

The ice mage had finally taken notice of her appearance. The vestiges of the mission apparent in her clothes. Her boots were stained with mud almost to the knees, her dress had traces of dirt as well as was torn in the sleeves, and he could see the skin of her waist. Her face and hands were also dirty.

"Is that…blood?" He asked worried, spotting the red spot on the water mage's cheek.

She took a cautious step back when she felt his hand move closer to her face.

"It's not Juvia's," She answered dryly and wiped herself with the back of her hand, leaving more mud in its wake.

Gray smiled. His girl was amazing.

"It was a tough mission, huh?" He asked, silently referring to her appearance.

"It's none of your business, Gray-sama," She responded defiantly.

"Yes, it is," He answered stubbornly, "What happens to you is my business," He insisted as his he clenched his fists on the side of his body. He had to say it, he needed to be honest with her, "I care about you," He said, the wind carrying the gentle words from his mouth to her ears.

"Juvia doesn't want to hear this," The water mage turned around and started her way to the guild.

Gray growled softly.

"I didn't want to fall in love. I didn't want to feel this way!" He said, his voice louder and higher than he expected.

His face burned with shame at being aware of his words. Finally, he was saying it and it felt strange to express it. He ran until he was in front of her again to look at her face

"I tried to resist, I wanted to get away and you insisted," He said, trying to jog her memory of them in the past.

"Gray-sama is not in love with Juvia," She retaliated, trying to dodge him again, but Gray got in her way.

"Yes, I am and you know it," He said sternly, Juvia's expression hardened as the ice mage stared at her. "You know it because you know me more than anyone, even more than I know myself," Gray continued, not giving Juvia a chance to respond.

There was a deep and uncomfortable silence.

"You can see it, right? You know what I feel for you, even if I don't say it directly," He said, their eyes locked on each other.

"It doesn't matter!" She finally bursts out, her eyes filled with misery and tears. She backed away a few steps, shaking her head, want to flee this situation filling her eyes.

But Gray didn't let her.

"It doesn't matter what Gray-sama feels!" She said. Gray flinched at her harsh words. That hurt. "It doesn't even matter what Juvia feels," She finished.

"Why do you say that?" He asked, his eyes burning with confusion, "We can solve all of this, just…" He trailed off.

"Just what?!" She asked helplessly, "It does not matter because Gray-sama will hurt us again!" She shouted, the tears pouring down from her eyes, dirt and mud mixing with the tears, streaming down her face. "Gray-sama has too many doubts and fears," She continued, "Juvia can see them in his eyes," The water user took a deep breath and looked at the ground, regaining her composure, "A year ago…when it happened…Juvia knew that Gray-sama did it on purpose. He knew Juvia would be there and he did it to hurt her,"

Gray lowered his head in shame.

"It will not happen again ... I will not let my fears…" He whispered helplessly.

"Juvia does not believe you," She stated. He felt the sour dye in her voice.

He looked at her again, the pain still present in her blue orbs. "Juvia does not trust Gray-sama, because—" She started, but was cut off.

"That's why I must earn your trust," Gray said determinedly.

"Juvia just can't trust Gray-sama," She sighed out, sounding like the weight of the world was atop her shoulders.

Although she said it firmly and her words hurt like daggers sticking in his chest, the young man did not hesitate in his determination.

"Do you still love me?" He asked the silence surrounding them immediately.

They stared at each other, searching in the other's eyes for what was not said in words.

Juvia wiped her tears with the back of her hand, revealing her colored cheeks and tried to continue on her way to the guild. Gray stopped her one more time ...

"Now I understand," He assured her with a slight smile. "You waited for me all that time," He said, grabbing her face with his hands.

"You waited for me to leave my doubts and fears. I never said it, but I really appreciated having you by my side. Even though I carried myself distant, even if I wanted to ignore you, I really appreciated it," He said, taking a deep breath as a smile grew on his face, wider than ever before.

Juvia looked at him without understanding, tilting her head to the side as his hands left her cheeks gently.

"Well," He said, a laugh escaping his lips, "I guess it's my turn to wait,"

"Gray-sama, it's not the same. Juvia— " She tried but was once again cut off.

"I already know," He interrupted her "I know it's not the same. But I want you to know something," He said, eyes brightened with determination. "I'm willing to wait all the time necessary, but I'm not going to get away from you. I will not look at you from afar, I will not keep hiding from your smiles, nor will I pretend that I'm not interested in what you're doing," He said.

Juvia wanted to talk again, but Gray continued "I don't care what others say or how uncomfortable I feel, I'll be by your side, I'll accompany you wherever I can and I'll wait patiently until you trust me again. Until you feel that I'm really in love with you," He said, his heart feeling better and lighter than it ever had before.

13 Months Before...

Gray must admit, he almost couldn't tell that it had already been a month. His life continued as usual: going on jobs, hanging out with his friends, sleeping at his house…everything the same as always.

At the beginning of the second month, though, that Juvia was away from the guild, the young ice user could already feel things changing. He didn't feel like going out on long jobs and his days began to seem too monotonous, as if they were all the same, boring and insipid.

It was at this time; he realized the enormous impact that the water mage had in his life.

Towards the third month, his anxiety directed his actions, and for some reason, only two weeks before the return of Juvia, Gray felt the panic invade him for not having a specific plan for the dinner that he had to prepare for her.

"What are you doing here, Gray?" A voice asked him, he almost dropped the book, startled by the questioning voice. Turning around, the ice user encountered the Solid Script mage.

"Oh, Levy…" He trailed off awkwardly, "I was just…" He trailed off once again, trying to think of a reasonable excuse in his mind while hiding the volume behind his back. It wasn't exactly an every-day occurrence for him to be in the library.

"A cookbook?" Inquired his partner with curiosity, leaning behind him to see the title "Since when do you cook?"

"I live alone, remember?" He defended himself, regaining his composure. "I cook daily,"

"Liar," She sang teasingly, smiling with suspicion, "You always eat at the guildhall," She said, her eyes sparkling, almost as if she were a predator that had just caught her prey.

"Sometimes I cook at home," he responded indignantly.

Levy crossed her arms; he could see that she did not believe a word of what he was saying.

"Well, I think you're looking for something special," She said, causing the magician to turn his head to look away, as distant as possible from the girl in front of him. "If you want to cook something for Juvia, you should ask Mira,"

"Are you kidding?!" He asked outrageously, "If I ask her anything, I'm screwed!" He said.

"So you admit that it's for Juvia?" She asked, smugly.

"Huh?" He asked dumbfounded, "Hey! You  tricked me!"

Levy laughed heartily as Gray felt his face heat up. Someone had discovered him with these plans. He only had one word to describe what he was feeling, embarrassed.

"I think it's cute that you want to cook something for her. I know that Juvia will appreciate it very much," Levy said, smiling, happy that Gray was finally doing something for the sweet water mage.

He looked down to see the cover of the book. He knew that the water mage would enjoy anything he did, but he still wanted to greet her with something special. For once, he wanted to be the one to show his affection with an exclusive gesture for her.

"If you don't want to ask Mirajane ... maybe Gajeel can help you?" Levy asked cautiously.

"Gajeel?" He asked as if she had proposed something crazy. "I can't ask him," He said bluntly.

"Why not? Gajeel has been her friend for so long, I'm sure he knows what Juvia likes better than anyone else," Levy said chipperly.

Involuntarily he frowned. He should not feel that way, but it bothered him to admit that the Dragon Slayer was the one who knew Juvia best.

"Okay, I'll ask him," He finally agreed.

Levy smiled at him kindly.

"I'll go with you, so I can make sure you really get an answer," She said, almost mischievously, a twinkle in her eyes. Gray was embarrassed to say that this little woman terrified him sometimes.

The iron mage was sitting at a table talking to Panther Lily, in front of him laid an exaggeratedly large tray filled with iron debris. The red eyes of the long-haired boy were fixed on them when they were close enough ...

"Gajeel, Gray wants to ask you something," Levy started when neither of the boys decided to speak. The ice user didn't know how to ask his question.

"I don't know when Juvia returns, stripper," He said roughly and grabbed one of the metal scraps.

"She's coming back in two weeks, thanks," He answered sarcastically, but inside he was glad that he knew that and Gajeel didn't. Gray felt like he had won a mini-battle.

"Then what do you want?" Gajeel asked.

The victory Gray felt was short-lived as an uncomfortable feeling settled in him.

They stared at each other and Gray could feel some threat from Gajeel.

"I don't have all day, ice princess," Gajeel grumbled, using the name that Natsu had bestowed upon Gray.

"Gray wants to cook something for Juvia, do you know what she might like?" Levy intervened somewhat exasperated, possibly tired of the duel of looks.

The iron mage clicked his tongue.

"How the hell am I going to know that?" He asked, peering at Gray irritated.

"Well, you're the one who's known her for the longest, we thought," Levy said, leaving the rest of the sentence in the air.

"Yes, I'm her friend," He responded with a contemptuous tone, "I've been stuck with the rain woman for too long,"

"And you don't know what she likes?" Gray asked, somewhat annoyed with the attitude of his partner.

"I don't care," He said and went back to grab another piece of metal, "It doesn't matter to me what other people eat," He said as he finished swallowing what he had brought to his mouth and turned his gaze to the short-haired man. His eyes fixed on him for long seconds, as if studying him. A grimace of mistrust showed on his face until finally, he let out a sigh.

"Try something sweet. She will like it," He admitted reluctantly.

"Thank you," He replied, surprised by the response. He didn't expect Gajeel to cooperate. He turned around to go back to the library and find another kind of book to prepare dinner.

"Hey, stripper," Gajeel called him suddenly.

Gray responded and looked at him over his shoulder.

"Do what you want with dinner, but I'll warn you something," The look of the Dragon Slayer darkened, the air felt tense and the feeling of threat flew over the room "If you hurt Juvia, I will tear you to pieces," He all but growled, the dragon side of his coming through.

"I'm not going to hurt her," He responded by clicking his tongue. "It's just dinner," He said, his eyes returning Gajeel's gaze.

"You've been warned," Gajeel said threateningly.

"Trust me," Gray replied, turning around and making his way back to the library.

He would not hurt Juvia.

He couldn't.

To be Continued... Link to FF.net

AN: This chapter was so hard to write! It's very repetitive, but I think that's needed for Gray to change his behavior. I apologize if he's too OOC... Next chapter is gonna be a really cute one, I wanted to write it since the first chapter! So I'm very eager to write that stuff now! I hope I'll be able to update soon :)

Thank you so much everyone who reviewed the previous chapters! This is the first time that I update in English before doing it in Spanish. Your support made me want to do it sooner.

I'm really happy to be in this fandom!

#fanfic #gruvia #gray fullbuster #Juvia Lockser #drama #romance

[shikai-the-storyteller]

CYBERVERSE WATCH

S3 Episode 9, 10, 11, 12

Episode 9

WHIRL NO WHY IS EVERYONE RUNNING oh

Gosh I love that Percy’s alt-mode sucks so he’s gotta hitch a ride on someone

Whirl *gracefully descends from the ceiling* Percy: *PLUMMETS LIKE A ROCK*

No joke I laughed so suddenly and loud at that I startled myself

RODDY PLEASE RETHINK YOUR DECISION TO USE A WAR TITAN TO FIGHT YOUR BATTLES IM BEGGING YOU TO USE YOUR BRAINCELL

Whirl *jumps directly on the Titan’s face*  Me: I’d die for you

Roddy: We need Windblade! Me: YEAH YOU NEED SOMEONE SMART ON THIS TEAM

Ok putting the masks on their head to hide from the Quints is actually a smart idea

“I can’t believe that worked” GUYS PLS

Aw I love that Clobber and Roddy do their little fist bump / high-five thing that’s so cute

CHROMIA AND WINDBLADE....Roddy you’re interrupting their date

Roddy: Clobber, you’re a lesbian, can you get through to them Clobber: Sure *picks up Chromia in one hand and walks off*

I feel like the smart thing for them to do would be to wake up Megatron and/or Optimus and use them to wake up other Autobots / Decepticons because like. If I was an Autobot and Megatron wandered by at a parade I’d definitely be on defense. Of course, then Roddy & co. would need to convince Megatron to help them so maybe that’s a no-go anyways

WHIRL NO!!! OH NO

AW I love that everyone’s taking care of Percy, Dead End holding his hand while running was so cute

HELL YEAH USE YOUR FIRE RODDY

HOT ROD NO!!!!!!!!! SOMEONE SAVE MY BOY!! AND WHIRL, WHO ALSO GOT HI--OH MY GOSH THEY KNOCKED THE THING OFF SOUNDWAVE AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

IF ANYONE CAN TAKE DOWN THE QUINTS AND WAKE EVERYONE UP ITS MY BOY SOUNDWAVE I mean, assuming ripping the helmet off his head rather than waking him up normally didn’t totally screw him up

AHHH SOMEONE NEEDS TO SAVE RODDY

WHOA SOUNDWAVE YOU GOOD BUDDY??? OH NO....

“Something’s wrong with him...” “You mean more than normal?” SHUT UP DEADEND

LMAO HOT ROD STRAIGHT UP SLAPPED A QUINTESSON NICE

OH NO IM GETTING FLASHBACKS TO THE MOVIE

COURT!?!??? PLEASE SAY YOUR FAMOUS LINE RODDY

HEY CAN YOU GUYS STOP BEING BUTTS TO SOUNDWAVE

“There are an infinite amount of universes in the multiverse. The Quintessons judge which ones are worthy of existence” NICE NICE NICE NICE OMINOUS AND NICE

ARE WE GONNA GET TO SEE OTHER UNIVERSES???

WHOA WAIT WHAT SCIENTIST, MACCADAM WHO ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT

IS THIS GONNA BE THE CREEPY WHEELJACK WE SAW IN LIKE EPISODE 3 OF SEASON ONE???

You know I’m realizing the Titan thing doesn’t explain how Maccadam knows about the future, is HE from a different universe / future?? Has he already seen all of this happen before? Is HE the true Homura of this series?

RODIMUS STALLING TO ANNOY THE COURT NICE

Every time Roddy uses his flames I lose my mind in excitement

HEY DEADEND STOP BEING A BUTT TO SOUNDWAVE

HELL YEAH RIP ‘EM A NEW ONE SOUNDWAVE, SHOW THEM WHO’S BOSS

HEY CAN SOMEONE *PLEASE* SAVE HOT ROD

UH OH IS RIGHT RODDY

“I wish I was a jet” He’s not gonna jump is OH HE JUMPED

OH THANK GOODNESS WHIRL WAS THERE, THANK YOU WHIRL FOR BEING AWESOME

SOUNDWAVE!!!!!!!!!!!

 Episode 10

I saw Soundwave in the thumbnail and got UNREASONABLY excited

AHHHHHHHHHHH IS THIS GONNA BE THE RODDY AND SOUNDWAVE EPISODE I HEARD ABOUT?!?!??! PLEASE??? PLEASE???

Hot Rod is the ONLY bot who could appreciate Soundwave’s background music PLEASE let them get along or at least be amicable by the end of the episode that would be so frickin good

“The Masters of the Multiverse” man what a good title

I’m so glad Season 3 has been so Hot Rod=focused, HE DESERVES THE SPOTLIGHT

lmao I love that Soundwave and Roddy are both crossing their arms on opposite sides of the bar, guys please you’ve got bigger fish to fry

This is embarrassing but I was legitimately so distracted by how nice Soundwave’s legs looked in this scene I didn’t hear a single thing Roddy said and I had to rewind the episode l m a o.....

Soundwave: I know you’re no Optimus Prime Me: *MORTIFIED GASP* THAT’S A SORE SUBJECT DON’T BE MEAN!!!

SOUNDWAVE NO!!! NO FIGHTING

I KNEW IT I knew he was improperly removed!!!

THEY FRICKIN SLAPPED HIM ON THE CHEST TO FIX HIM LIKE HE”S AN OLD TV IM CACKLING

OH SHOOT they already tried doing something similar to Hound oof

SOUNDWAVE AT LEAST SHARE WHAT THE PLAN IS

OH SHOOT SOUNDWAVE GETS THINGS DONE

I can’t believe they came up with names / jobs for these things

Aw Roddy I’m sorry Soundwave’s overshadowing your leadership role :(

“Maybe they’re trading beauty secrets” DEADEND PLEASE

I hope Soundwave didn’t tell her to kill him

OH NO HE DID, CLOBBER NO

Clobber: *crying while trying to kill him* This hurts me more than it hurts you! Hot Rod: No, this hurts me more GUYS PLEASE

I briefly forgot DeadEnd was a Decepticon and was like “Wow you’re not worrying about Roddy getting his head beat in?? Really??”

Gosh Soundwave looks so cool

“The evil back-stabbing music box” omg

Hot Rod: That’s not how Autobots do things Dead End: Yeah but like, we aren’t. So can we kill him

SOUNDWAVE’S INTERROGATION STUFF IS SO COOL I mean it’s mean but that’s an interesting method

AHH HE SAID THE INFERIOR SUPERIOR THING

Who IS the scientist

Uh. ok what is that brain thing. I WAS ASSUMING THE SCIENTIST WAS A BOT BUT GUESS NOT

Episode 11

Gosh the backgrounds in this show are such a delight for the eyes

*GENTLE GASP* BABIES!!!!!!!! ARE ANY OF THEM SOUNDWAVE’S BABIES???

AW OMG SOUNDWAVE IS THERE HE’S CATCHING A CASSETTE OMG OMG.....OH MY GOSH....THERE ARE REAL TEARS IN MY EYES

But at the same time SOUNDWAVE YOU CANT JUST FRICKIN NAB A BIRD OUT OF THE AIR AND CALL IT YOURS

Oh well I guess he can lmao alrighty then

OH NO....BOTS ARE DYING....GUYS YOU’RE TAKING TOO LONG TO DO THIS

how on EARTH did that work

OHOHO just Hot Rod and Soundwave I hope they learn to trust each other a bit

I’m VERY worried they’re gonna kill off Laserbeak in this episode

ALRIGHT. WELL. THAT SCIENTIST ISNT FREAKY AT ALL.

OK SUPER FREAKY HE’S WAY TOO INTERESTED IN SOUNDWAVE FOR ME TO NOT BE WORRIED ABOUT THIS HE SOUNDS LIKE A CREEPY COLLECTOR

‘‘A blue one...I don’t have a blue one yet’‘ UH OH UH OH!!!! OH PLEASE DONT HURT SOUNDWAVE CYBERVERSE WRITERS PLEASE!!!

DOES SOUNDWAVE KNOW THIS DUDE??? HOW ELSE DID SOUNDWAVE KNOW WHAT WOULD OPEN THE DOOR???

The fact that we can now SEE Laserbeak in his chest makes me worry we’re gonna lose her this episode 8(((

WHAT THE FRICK

ARE THESE DIFFERENT VERSIONS OF SOUNDWAVE FROM DIFFERENT UNIVERSES??? ARE THESE JUST DIFFERENT BOTS THAT SHARE SOUNDWAVE’S ALT MODE???? IM SO DEEPLY WORRIED

“Why would he collect Soundwaves and not Hot Rods?” RODDY PLEASE THIS IS NOT THE TIME!!!!! That’s a very Hot Rod thing to focus on though lmao

I feel like the Cyberverse writers went “Hm, what would make Ana feel most anxious about her favorite character?” and then proceeded to write this episode exactly about that

Like, on the one hand: Good taste weird tentacle alien dude, on the other, GET YOUR MITTS OFF HIM

“When a judge finds a universe guilty, I like to keep a little...souvenir for myself” WOW THAT’S HALF WHAT I GUESSED BUT HE SAID THAT INFINITELY CREEPIER THAN I THOUGHT HE WOULD

HOT ROD PLEASE SAVE HIM FROM THE WEIRD TENTACLE MAN

I love how this team has exactly one braincell and none of the people currently on the other side of the door are in possession of it

“I keep telling myself I don’t have room for any more, but you would go so nicely right here” me @ me when I’m buying figurines tbh

That’s genuinely so upsetting, like if I were in Soundwave’s place I’d be pissed as HELL

OH BOY ARE WE GONNA HAVE A TOYSTORY 2 SCENARIO wrt THE “You’re damaged!” THING

“I’LL SHOW YOU DAMAGED” LMAO Roddy: *starts listing off all his traumas* Tentacle Dr.: Um,,

LET GO OF MY BOY!!!!

“A parade is the best you can come up with?” ASKING THE REAL QUESTIONS RODDY

HELL YEAH GET HIM SOUNDWAVE and thank goodness he got fixed. Hopefully the guy didn’t do anything weird to him

I KNEW THAT WAS TOO EASY WHY IS THIS DUDE SO FREAKY

WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT”S FEEDING TIME

EW WHAT’S IN THERE

IM GONNA LEGITIMATELY CRY IF THEY KILL LASERBEAK PLEASE DONT KILL HIS BIRD

Why do the words “Laserbeak! Eject!” get me so emotional WHY AM I SO HEAD OVER HEELS FOR THIS CASSETTE TAPE AND BOOM BOX

DONT SHOOT LASERBEAK PLEASE

Ironic for Whirl to be the one to say “hold your fire”

Wow way to abandon Hot Rod and Soundwave

uH OH UH OH UH OH

Off-topic but tentacle dude’s voice sounds SO familiar I just can’t place it it’s a really good fit

OH SHOOT THEY”RE DRAINING THE ALL SPARK TOO

DO IT PERCY SAVE EVERYONE!!!!

Perceptor you are ADORABLE

PERCY YOU GOTTA SAY AUTOBOTS ROLL OUT

THERE WE GO OPTIMUS

Oh boy let’s see how Megatron reacts to Clobber interrupting him

Percy should just summon a hologram of Optimus, that would do it

YEAHHH THEY FREED EVERYONE!!!

DO IT GUYS!!! HEAT AND SOUND!!!!

CHROMIA!!! :D

FIST BUMP!!!!!

AND LASERBEAK IS OK!!!!

Uh oh spaghettio that doesn’t seem good

OH WOW YOU’RE REALLY GONNA END THE EPISODE THERE??? HECK I FORGET HOW SHORT THESE ARE

Not to sound predictable but I think that was the most interesting episodes of the season so far

Episode 12

Aw man the judge is still alive heck

MY BOYS!!! MY BOYS IN ONE ROOM TALKING TOGETHER AND NOT TRYING TO KILL EACH OTHER!!!

Optimus: We will work together to stop this Megatron: *half-hearted grumble of assent*

Bee please don’t reignite the war by bumping into people

LMAO WHY’S IT SOUND LIKE OPTIMUS JUST ASKED MEGATRON TO MARRY HIM

I love this they’re both like “frick this is so uncomfortable”

MEGATRON COME ON

HELL YEAH YOU TELL EM SOUNDWAVE nice teamwork!!!

KUP!!!! AND STRIKA!!!

LMAO THEY SHOVED THEM IN THE TRAINING SIM guys pls. I mean good effort but

Man can I just say it’s so nice seeing these two (especially Soundwave, the world’s most under-valued Decepticon ever) become respected leaders while getting time in the spotlight? I LOVE that!!!!

I should redraw this screenshot sometime

Bee and Arcee and Shadow Striker and Lockdown!! Such a good combo

OH MY GOSH HE SERIOUSLY DID A TOUCH REFERENCE

AHHHHHH SOUNDWAVE BACKED HIM UP WITH MUSIC, I KNEW THEY’D GET ALONG!!!! SALING YOU WERE SO RIGHT AHHHHH

I’D DIE FOR YOU TWO!!!!!!!!!!

TEAM SOUNDWAVE AND HOT ROD: THE ULTIMATE CAPTAINS!!!!

SKYWARP!!!!!!

YEAH!!!!!!!!!!

Life-or-death video games really do build friendships

WINDBLADE!!! :D

Aw man are you guys still really gonna wake up this Titan

Windblade: Did you guys ask Maccadam about this first Hot Rod: Oh absolutely he definitely said yes don’t worry about it Windblade: You sure? This dude seems like. Super evil Hot Rod: Nah it’ll be fine don’t even worry about it

THANK YOU RODDY for being the voice of reason for once

Maccadam: Now isn’t the time for this Titan, we need to save that for the season finale

Can’t believe they’re really dragging a bomb through the city

Ok so like. Where is Megatron during all of this. Are you seriously gonna sulk and miss this whole battle Megatron

Arcee with her machine gun is SO cute

Someone please shoot this shark dude and shut him up

AW THEY BROKE ARCEE’S MACHINE GUN :(

GET ‘IM WINDBLADE!!!

HEY MEGATRON OPTIMUS COULD REALLY USE A HAND HERE COME ON

WHOOPS so much for the bomb

OH AND EVERYONE ELSE I GUESS?? FORGOT THAT THE BOMB WOULD PROBABLY HIT THEM

WINDBLADE PLEASE BE CAREFUL

BEE FALLING AND RODDY IMMEDIATELY DROPPING DOWN TO SHIELD HIM, OH MAN THAT GOT ME HURTING SOMETHING FIERCE

HERE COMES IACONUS AND WINDBLADE

Man I hope we get to see Windblade and Starscream duke it out with Titans

THANK YOU FOR SAVING HER MACCADAM I WAS SO WORRIED

“I’ve lost too many cityspeakers this way” OH WOW THAT CONFESSION ACTUALLY LEGIT HURT....Mac how many times have city speakers tried controlling Iaconus? How many people have you seen die apart from the citizens of Iacon?

AW MAN BUMMER PLACE TO END IT ok let’s do a few more episodes after a quick break (I’m still SCREAMING over that Soundwave episode)

#i talk #I'm watching Cyberverse #Cyberverse spoiler / #Primordial Robot hell

[ninja-scenarios]

Oasis more like pleasure heaven - Asra smut

Someone said: “Goodness honestly, asra pleasuring himself is so fucking hot, you did an. AMAZING job! If you are still taking requests, ffff could I please ask for more of that? Like anything you want but I just love him playing with himself while thinking about the MC fffffffffff (maybe pillow humping aaaaaaaaa)”

Ahhh, thank you so much!! <3 I wrote this in one go, i´m so doneeee

But it was really fun!! I hope you like it <3<3<3

MAJOR SPOILERS!! SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS!!!

Asra seeks comfort in his oasis. Little did he know that he´ll find more comfort than he expected. or How long can he last without reliving himself?

Words: 1,9k

Relationships: Asra / Non binary reader (implied) , Asra / Himself (?)

Finally returning to the comforting confines of his oasis, Asra let out a hollow sigh. His body felt tense, rigid from the scene he had fled back at the shop. The wandering magician shook his head, fluffy white hair bouncing up and down from the movement. He´d almost destroyed everything, almost put you at danger, again. The guilt sat heavy on his shoulders, weighing him down as he left deep footprints in the sand.

Oh how he wished to be with you again. Everything had changed, back then. The overwhelming joy of seeing the lost life returning to your body had been quickly displaced with utter horror. Your missing memories put a deep hole into your existence, much like a puzzle missing its most important middle pieces. Even after three years, day after day filled with hope that you´d wake up and remember, that your eyes would light up in recognition and fill with tears as you hugged your lover, your current status hasn´t changed.

Asra wasn´t allowed to dream, to let his mind wander back to what was. Whenever he did, his heart ached for you like it was on fire, demanding your closeness and love. Your relationship was in the past, hopelessly overshadowed by the dulling, numbing present. A warm breeze swept by, engulfing the young wanderer as if to hug him, yet the thought of you still didn´t leave his mind. Here was the only place when he showed weakness and spoke his deepest, secret wishes.

Yet, while it was a paradise, the dark parts of his minds were represented as well. They hid in the deep rain forest, in the smallest cracks and holes, whispering his name whenever he passed by. Even though he himself had created this place, there were things even Asra couldn´t control.

The more striking was his astonishment when he suddenly came upon a river. There was a tent-like, open pavilion on the other side, similar to the ones in Nadi´s palace gardens. Next to it stood a resting silhouette, emitting a calming aura rather than a threatening presence. On closer inspection, it looked like a perfect reflection of himself. Maybe he was imagining it because when he blinked, the figure had vanished.

Without paying it much thought, Asra lifted the satchel over his head while he waded through the waist deep, warm water. The warmth of the river still did nothing to relax his body. He´d felt on edge for days on end. Once leaving the water, he stepped out of his pants, underwear, socks and shoes, eager to try out the soft-silky interior of the pavilion. For a second he wanted to turn around and explore it together with you. You´d have laughed at his unplanned swim, in fact Asra heard your warm laughter ringing in his ears. Oh how he wanted to share this moment with you, to bring you here.

Throwing his pocket somewhere on the fluffy carpet-ground, he let himself fall into the sea of rose-coloured pillows. They felt nice against his naked skin, so silky and cool. Experimentally he rocked against them a few times, just to be almost immediately overwhelmed by sleep. It was no wonder when he the constant thoughts tired him out. They were painful, reminding him why he had fled this time. The reason was so utterly careless that he had debated on never coming back. A week ago, he had just poked his head into your bedroom, wanting to wake you for breakfast. You had read your favourite book, engrossed in the lines like you´d always used to. When, after some moments which Asra had used the seldom opportunity to stare at your beautiful features without disturbance, you had lifted your head and smiled at him in such a heart-warming, familiar way that he had wanted to tell you everything right then and there. It felt like his heart melted in heat right on the spot and while his lips had already formed the words, thankfully his voice had failed him. I love you.

I have loved you since the first day, and will continue to do so until my last.

When he awoke, thick rain drops knocked against the top of the tent in a calm, happy tune. It was a summer rain, coming to water the thirsty plants and revive the desert. With a sigh, Asra turned around, and shuddered as his erect, hot length was exposed to the air. As much as the guilt forbid him to chase after pleasure, his inner, love-starved self got the best of him. The erection stood hot and proudly, begging for attention by oozing pre-cum out of its head.

It was no use. For the last week, the act of punishment by denying himself pleasure had taken its toll on the young magician. How he wanted to hold you, kiss you, love you… the grains of sand of the desert beautifully described how many times he had jacked off to joint, fond memories.

Finally, Asra gave in, his hand coming down onto the searing hot skin. The pure contact had him hiss, considering that it was the first one in a while. His fingertips traced patterns into his shaft, smearing his pre cum all over himself and Asra gave a tight, little moan. When it felt slick enough he stroked it, slowly moving his hand up and down the thick cock. Under some circumstances, it would be your hand, squeezing and luring the pleasure out of his body.

The pure memory of you affected the magician deeply and it wasn´t long until he was moving faster, hips pushing up to meet his hand. His fingers formed a circle, creating a loose hole for him to thrust into, while Asra called out your name. If it was in hope or in despair, no one would ever really know.

While his own hand did not provide much comfort, the feeling of your mouth around him did, forever burnt into his mind. His reflection appeared again before the pavilion, watching him as it came closer. It didn´t feel quite like his own magic, but it felt familiar. Maybe it was the magician? In this gaze, it was hard to tell. Either way, Asra wasn´t set on stopping now, having been caught anyways. Also, he was positive that nothing, except his own mind, could ever hurt him in this safe heaven.

He closed his eyes and let his cock slip through his fingers again and again, blushing at the slick sound. It wasn´t enough, though. His body strained and moved, yet the desired rush of euphoria failed to take over.

Asra grit his teeth, moving faster, tighter. When he reopened his eyes, his reflection stood before him. Despite the rain outside, it didn´t appear to be wet. A snap resounded in the air. Asra´s brain was too foggy to fully process as his other self leaned over and suddenly wrapped a surprisingly slick hand around his raging boner. The white haired wanderer cried out as his reflection jacked him off, hard and fast. His tight, slick hand moved up and down his rock-hard length, creating the lewdest of sounds while his owner kept silent.

Asra panted, tongue coming out to wet his lips as he simply gave in to the experience. He thrust into the tight grip like crazy, letting out a desperate groan as the hand squeezed even tighter.

My heart belongs to you. I´d give my self up to safe you until there´s nothing left of me.

Guilt worked against pleasure in merciless, cooling waves, bringing him down from his high. His body went rigid in discomfort and he opened his eyes. How did the reflection work? Did it know how his true self felt? I must have, because suddenly he grabbed one of the silky pillows and leaned forwards, pressing it around Asra´s cock like a second pair of skin and forming a warm orifice.

His breath left Asra in a shuddering exhale as his eyes fluttered close. The pillow felt excellent against this twitching cock, almost, almost as good as you. His hands searched for purchase, nails clawing into the sea of pillows as he let out a loud moan of your name.

It felt good, the tightness, the warmth. Asra didn´t notice how his reflection came even closer. Only when he felt a palm gently cupping his cheek, he gasped in surprise. Yet he didn´t open his eyes as he leaned into the touch, so very thankful. He could almost feel you against his skin, feeling you stroke his cheek while you cooed sweet nothings into his ear.

Your name left his lips over and over again as he thrust into the pillow for dear life. A thumb brushed over his sensitive tip whenever it peaked out in the front, making his body shudder and tremble.

It´s all my fault. If I had been brave enough you´d have never died. I left you. I don´t deserve to be around you, to think of myself as your protector when I failed to do so while you slowly died scared and alone.

“N-not enough…!” Asra mumbled between sighs and moans, frustration growing on his face.

Without a word, his reflection removed its hand from Asra´s face. Another snap, then suddenly Asra felt something warm and slick circle his hole. Gasping, he witnessed how the finger entered him. The digit fucked his hole gently, and was soon joined by another one.

I was a coward for running away and a fool for being so stubborn. To this day, this decision haunts me in every one of my dreams.  

You had always been so excellent at sucking him off, knowing all of his sweet spots and preferences and when to pull back to draw out his pleasure and prolong his orgasm. And the lovely sounds that had escaped your pretty mouth, small moans that had sent twitches right to his cock.

Asra was about to lose his mind, thrusting upwards into the heavenly pillow while he got fingered into oblivion. “F-fuck, yes…” His moans echoed in the dry sand, while the oasis bloomed with his pleasure. His shirt stuck onto his skin in sweat and heat, hair sticking against the pillows. Your name left his lips over and over again. “Forgive me! Please, forgive me…” Warm tears escaped the corners of his eyes and dripped down the wet, flushed cheeks. His cock throbbed, spasming as he felt he fingers curling against his sweet spot and spilling into the warm heat.

His other self pulled his hands back, letting Asra bathe in the afterglow. Whether his reflection was his own or someone else´s magic, he didn´t care. Just about you, he did. You would be sad that he would be gone for so long, yet he had to escape this ruined relationship sometimes. It didn´t matter how much he loved you, how much he was willing to give, when it was best if he let you alone. Your feelings, your well-being were his top priority and he would let no one, not even himself, get in their way.

Through the thick haze of the fogginess inside his brain, he could make out your face. His heart painfully tightened at the sight, was he not miles away from you in this very moment. Eyes still closed, the young magician detected some movement in the pavilion. Assuming his reflection had left, he was even more surprised to feel a palm cupping his cheek, wiping at his dried tears. Yet, this was nothing compared to the shock he felt when his other self suddenly connected their lips. They shared a slow, gentle kiss. After a few moments, the other Asra pulled back.

“I forgive you.”

#asra #asra the arcana #asra x reader #asra smut #asra x reader smut #the arcana drabbles #the arcana fanfiction #the arcana fanfic #asra fanfiction #asra the magician

[suolainensilakka]

First Meeting

(Characters belong to myself and @enderchest !)

This was a really, really, really bad idea, Duster thought to himself as he shuffled from one pede to another, trying his hardest to blend in and stamp down his nervousness as Sentinel Prime marched in front of the group of soon-to-be Elite Guard cadets, scrutinizing each and every bot with trained precision and likely gauging whether or not they were worthy of recruiting officially.

“And what do you do?” he heard the Prime’s voice say, and tried to refrain from wincing. He wasn’t really yelling, per se, not even close, but the volume was still enough to make Duster cringe. The mech being questioned chuffed with laughter, but the much smaller minibot couldn’t see him properly from behind the mass of armored pedes blocking his view to the left.

“Gimme a target and I’ll show ya,” the mech replied with an audible grin. Sentinel’s optics narrowed at the informal language but he didn’t comment further, instead pointing towards the row of blandly painted training dummies standing behind him, stepping aside.

“Alright then, knock yourself out.” He was clearly skeptical, but there was a small glimmer of curiosity in his optics as he watched the newcomer step forward with confidence.

Duster leaned over to get a better look, only barely managing to catch a glimpse of a light brown and green mech before he suddenly launched forward with almost frightening speed and collided with the closest dummy, shattering it into near-symmetrical splinters that exploded outwards and sent all nearby mechs jumping backwards with surprised yells. The mech paid them no mind, instead whirling towards his next target and obliterating it in a similar manner. One was split in half with a single kick, another was sent flying several dozen feet into the air, and all the remaining ones were taken out so fast Duster’s optics almost hurt while trying to keep up with the bot’s incredible swiftness.

The mech finished his mock battle with a victorious whoop, turning to face his audience with his arms spread outwards and frame physically radiating heat from exertion. He paused for a moment before speaking, huffing as his frame struggled to cool down, but it was clear from the look on his face that he was quite proud of himself.

“How’s that for a demonstration?” he asked, grinning. There was a beat of silence as Sentinel simply blinked in response, before brushing a few stray flecks of debris from his shoulder with a short hum.

“Quite impressive,” he said, voice slightly strained from annoyance at the mess scattered about, but nonetheless still pleased. “What’s your name, soldier?” he then barked sharply, and the bot in question let out a short laugh.

“Name’s Breakbrawl.” He paused for a moment, flexing his arm cables in an almost comically exaggerated manner before continuing, “Sorry ‘bout the mess, by the way. Things kinda tend to go boom when I’m around.” Breakbrawl then chuckled at his own little joke, shoulders shaking and teal headlights flashing briefly.

“... Alright then, Breakbrawl, you’re in,” Sentinel replied after a pause, his trademark smirk settling back on his face as he gestured for the bot to step back into the line. Breakbrawl let out another joyful whoop, practically leaping into the group and moving to stand on his previous place with newfound energy and brightly glowing optics.

Duster had been watching the performance in almost complete silence, utterly captivated by the mech’s movements and the almost physically tangible confidence rolling off his shoulders in waves, and for a moment he’d almost forgotten why he was here in the first place. His earlier nervousness came crashing back in when Sentinel snapped back into drill sergeant mode, asking for each bot’s designation and function as he gradually moved closer and closer to Duster. The brown minibot briefly considered hiding behind one of the taller mechs, but immediately - albeit reluctantly - shook the idea away. You’re here now, you’ve come this far, you’ve put in too much effort to give up now. Stay calm.

Sentinel’s pedesteps grew closer. Duster tensed. His audials were online and perfectly functional but seemingly refused to process any noise filtered through beyond unintelligible muttering, and his spark hammered against its chamber with almost enough strength to visibly shine through its protective casing - calm down, you’re not going to die, just stop panicking - and Duster fought against the urge to bolt with all his might. Then, finally, after an agonizingly long ten minutes, Sentinel stopped in front of him and turned to look. The Prime’s stern expression briefly twisted into confusion after seeing no one there, and Duster - trying hard not to let his internal screaming physically spill out of his vocalizer - cleared his throat and waved a servo nervously.

“D-down here, sir!” he croaked, wincing slightly at the spontaneous voice crack. Sentinel nearly jumped in surprise before swiveling his helm towards the voice, and a wide, amused smirk appeared on his face. Leaning down towards Duster, he folded his arms behind him and tilted his helm slightly to the side, as if talking to a lost sparkling who had wandered too far from its guardians.

“And who are you, then?” he asked, clearly unimpressed. His tone sounded almost condescending, sending another wave of fear dancing through Duster’s spark.

“I... “ the minibot began, before pausing to clear his throat again and looking back up at Sentinel. “M-my name is Duster, sir.” A raised eyebrow was his only response for a moment.

“... Alright. What’s your specialty?”

“My--” Oh. Oh. Duster’s optics nervously flicked to look at the mechs around him - all had their optics trained on him and him alone, all understandably curious - and suddenly Duster realized just how awful his idea to come here had been. He didn’t have any special abilities or strengths that he could name. Not any he knew about, at least - it was becoming glaringly obvious that Sentinel, however, was very keen on knowing.

“Well?” the blue mech prodded impatiently, and Duster swallowed nervously.

“I-- uh--”

“Drawing attention away from teammates and distracting enemies, then. Got it,” Sentinel suddenly interrupted, grin widening even further. Duster’s vents sputtered, belching out clouds of soot in surprise.

“W--” he coughed, squinting slightly. “What?”

Sentinel’s optics narrowed marginally, adding a vaguely hostile edge to his already condescending expression.

“You heard me. It’s obvious you don’t have a lick of fighting spirit in you, and judging by that flimsy, paper-thin excuse for armor you’re wearing you wouldn’t last a nanosecond in a real, up-close fight with a Decepticon.” He leaned even further in, forcing Duster to take a nervous step backwards with his audial fins pinned tight against his helm, and jabbed a digit towards the minibot’s chest where his spark was rapidly pulsing within its glass casing. “And that might as well turn you into a big, red, screaming target with the words “shoot me” painted on. Honestly, it’s a miracle cleaning models like you are even allowed to apply.” Slowly, with an infuriatingly smug air clinging to him, Sentinel rose up and turned away, seemingly ready to continue to the next bot. Faint murmurs echoed all around - some sounded concerned, some snide, and it made Duster’s plating rattle faintly in discomfort.

“So, am I… am I in…?” he squeaked softly, watching Sentinel pause for a moment before turning his helm to peek at the minibot with a glare.

“For the time being, yes. Try not to waste my time too much. This oughta be fun…” he huffed, although Duster could tell the last part was more meant to be a low murmur than a comment directed his way. The Prime then turned away with a dismissive sneer, apparently choosing to ignore Duster from that moment onwards.

It was probably a good thing he did, too. He wasn’t sure how much longer he would last pinned under the Prime’s piercing gaze. Not without completely dissolving into a coughing, anxious mess, anyways. The fact that he had actually managed to get into the training program helped in softening the blow, but his joy was still vastly overshadowed by the obviously mocking way Sentinel had delivered the news - he just had to hope he could keep his calm for the rest of the training program, too.

“Well then, folks, it seems like you’ve all been - for the better of worse - accepted officially. Make no mistake, this does not mean that I’ll be going easy on you.” Sentinel’s gaze hovered over the group, optics narrowed. “Any of you.” Duster could hear some of the new cadets shuffling around nervously, too intimidated to talk. He couldn’t blame them, really.

“Now, since this particular training area is currently… “ the Prime began, before pausing and gesturing to the destroyed remains of the training dummies behind him, “... inoperable, we’ll be using the one further north until this mess is taken care of.”

Ah. Duster had a sinking feeling he knew what Sentinel was implying.

“You, over there. Duster. You’ll clean this up while we begin.”

Yep. Knew it.

Duster repressed the urge to sigh out loud, before nodding firmly. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Sentinel flashed another - insincere - smile his way, before turning around to address his troops. “Alright, off you go now,” he barked sharply, and a chorus of loud “yes sir”s met Duster’s audials before the group trotted off with thundering pedesteps, and left the brown minibot standing alone on the clearing.

“Wow. Tough luck.”

… Well, almost alone.

Duster’s helm fins twitched towards the noise and he turned to look at the source of the voice, seeing a slender, dark silver and green mech - Shutdown, he recalled from the earlier demonstrations - standing a few feet away with a sly grin, leaning his weight on one pede and arms crossed. Duster merely raised an eyebrow, silent.

“What, not even gonna reply?” Shutdown snorted, visor flashing. Duster simply rolled his optics in annoyance, moving to pick up the nearest piece of discarded rubble on the ground and twisting the shard around in his servos.

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere?” he asked dryly, tails twitching idly. He heard Shutdown give a harsh, ringing laugh behind him and tensed, listening as the mech’s pedesteps grew closer.

“Yeah, but shouldn’t you be somewhere too, I dunno… where you’re actually useful?”

Duster’s joints froze, vents sputtering out another cloud of dirt. What…?

“I dunno why they even let you in. Like, what are ya gonna do, blind the ‘Cons with ultra-polished armor? Dump a bucket of cleaning solvent underneath their pedes to trip them? Face it, you ain’t made to be a warrior.” Shutdown’s words each stung like a sharpened blade cutting into Duster’s armor, each one more vehement than the last - don’t defend yourself, don’t provoke him, stay still, the minibot chanted mentally, struggling not to visibly tremble - but it seemed like the green ex-racer wasn’t done yet.

“Keep trying, janitor, maybe you’ll actually make it to a full week,” he snarled, leaning almost uncomfortably close to Duster’s frame.

Don’t defend yourself. Don’t defend yourself. Don’t defend yourself. Don’t--

“OI! Knock it off, chump!”

Duster blinked, armor clamping down onto his protoform in surprise. That voice…

Shutdown actually visibly flinched, whirling around to look at the mech standing a few feet away with his teal optics narrowed, engine rumbling a low, threatening note.

“I mean it. Quit badgering the little guy and haul your aft back to Sentinel’s group before I punt you across the field myself,” Breakbrawl snapped sharply, and Shutdown paused to shoot another nasty glare at Duster before quickly slinking away from Breakbrawl’s piercing gaze, still muttering under his breath what Duster assumed were things he dared not say out loud himself.

After the mech’s back vanished from view, Breakbrawl strolled over to where Duster was still paralyzed and crouched down, optics visibly softening.

“Hey, fella, you okay?” he asked with an almost shockingly gentle voice, and Duster simply blinked in response before a nervous smile found its way on his face and he gave a tiny laugh.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine. Why…” Duster paused to cough out a puff of smoke, grimacing, “... why’d you… help me?” He really couldn’t comprehend why he of all bots would deem him worthy of assistance - as much as he hated admitting it, there wasn’t anything special about him. There had never been. So why…

“Eh, I just don’t like bullies,” Breakbrawl replied, stretching his neck cables with a faint grunt. For a second Duster thought he saw a veiled look of sadness flash in the mech’s optics, but the cryptic expression was soon gone before he had time to really notice it. Breakbrawl then flicked his optics to look into Duster’s own, and despite the mask covering the lower half of his face they almost gave the impression of a warm smile. Something in Duster’s spark shifted.

“Seriously though, you okay? Do I need to kick his aft?” Breakbrawl said, winking playfully.

That got a louder, more genuine laugh out of Duster, vents billowing out soot as his shoulders shook.

“No, please don’t,” he squeaked quietly, grinning. Breakbrawl gave a chuckle of his own in response, waving an arm through the air in a relaxed manner.

“Alright, alright, I won’t.”

Duster was just about to reply before a loud shout pierced the air from somewhere behind him, dragging out a frightened gasp from his vocalizer.

“Hey! What the pit are you still doing here?”

Breakbrawl’s armor had flared out like a startled cyber-cat’s at Sentinel’s yell, but he soon smoothed down his plating and turned towards the Prime with a sour look.

“I was just making sure Duster’s okay. Is that a problem…” He paused, narrowing his optics. “... sir?”

Sentinel glared back, before shaking his helm with an irritated sigh. He paused to glance at Duster, then back at Breakbrawl, scowling.

“Well then, if you two are such great buddies now, why don’t you clean up this mess together? That oughta teach you some manners, soldier,” he finished with a disapproving mutter, before sharply turning around and marching back to where the rest of the group was in the middle of completing an obstacle course. Duster simply stared for a moment, before looking at the mech next to him with a timid smile.

“Jeez, what crawled up his tailpipe and died?” he quipped, gently elbowing Breakbrawl’s side with a dull thud. The taller mech simply gave a casual shrug in response.

“Beats me,” he replied with an audible grin and a chuff of laughter. He then paused for a moment, picking up a nearby shard of debris and weighing it in his servos with a thoughtful look. His optics flicked up to look at the back of Sentinel’s helm, where he was barking out orders to the cadets, and Breakbrawl’s optics soon gained a mischievous glint. “Say what, Dusty… Should I nick ‘im with this?” he asked, slyly eyeing the Prime before shifting his helm to glance at Duster. The brown minibot burst into a short giggling fit, rapidly shaking his helm with a mildly exasperated look on his face.

“Primus, no! Don’t!” he chided the larger bot, whose face was glowing with both glee and genuine joy of having made the skittish minibot actually laugh.

“Well, if you say so,” he replied, snorting quietly. There was a short, relaxed pause between the two before he then slowly crouched down and started collecting the surrounding debris, quietly humming a cheerful melody Duster didn’t recognize. The minibot then jolted with a faint gasp, suddenly reminded of his original task, and bent down next to Breakbrawl to reach the rubble a bit further away, face glowing blue.

Breakbrawl’s optics briefly flicked to look towards Duster with an unreadable but relaxed expression, but he soon returned to work without comment. Duster simply allowed himself to get absorbed in the soothing, repetitive motions of cleaning, replaying the earlier conversation in his memory files and spark only briefly stalling at the realization that Breakbrawl had given him a nickname.

… Maybe Elite Guard training wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Contrary to Shutdown’s harsh insult on his first day, Duster didn’t get kicked out after a week.

He managed to last an astounding two and a half weeks before Sentinel seemingly got tired of having to pretend to tolerate his presence, and loudly and gleefully announced Duster’s involuntary exit. The shocked, dumbfounded silence that followed the announcement still haunted Duster to this day as he organized his belongings with automated motions, mouth pulled into a thin line and tails twitching idly. He remembered feeling shock and disappointment, but those feelings still paled when compared to a resigned, tired acceptance. He didn’t expect to last that long, but it still stung a little. Duster paused for a moment, looking at his arm pensively - it was probably for the better, anyways. As much as he hated admitting it, Sentinel was right about his unusually thin armor being unsuitable for combat.

A sudden but gentle knock to the door in his shared quarters with Breakbrawl broke the silence, and Duster’s armor flared out as he whirled around with a startled yelp. The door slid open and in came a very apologetic-looking Breakbrawl, audial fins pinned back as his optics gave the impression of a grimace.

“Sorry, pal, did I startle ya? Didn’t mean to do that, my bad,” the larger mech said, ducking his helm to avoid knocking it against the top of the doorframe as he strode in. Duster merely blinked, still frozen, before smoothing down his armor and waving a servo through the air nonchalantly, chuckling softly.

“‘S alright. Training’s over already?” he asked, tilting his helm to the side. Breakbrawl’s expression softened a bit more to his default relaxed look, and he gave a short nod in response.

“Yup. That’s… not the only reason I’m here, though,” he replied, and Duster raised an eyebrow curiously.

“Yeah? Everything alright?”

Breakbrawl’s face, though still covered by his mask, almost looked mildly smug. The expression disappeared shortly after, but Duster was already suspicious. The minibot narrowed his optics as Breakbrawl walked further into the room and sat down onto his assigned berth, the metal creaking slightly with the impact, and took a deep breath.

“I quit.”

Duster’s pistons froze for the second time that day, before his vents soon came back alive through a sputtering, choked squeak of alarm that sent clouds of dirt billowing everywhere around the brown minibot.

“What?” he hissed, optics flying wide open. Breakbrawl waved his servos in a placating manner, expression abashed, before he went on to explain.

“Easy, Dusty, easy! Don’t twist your cables into a coil, I’ve made my decision and I ain’t changing it,” he said with a small chuff of laughter. Upon seeing Duster’s still shocked expression, he let out a small sigh. “Look, I just…” he began, idly scratching the back of his neck. “... I dunno. It was really unfair of Sentinel to kick you out, especially in front of everyone like that.” He paused, optics flashing in a smile. “It just didn’t feel right to stay when I got this far this easily and you constantly got bossed around like you were nothing. Which definitely ain’t true,” Breakbrawl added with a huff.

Duster listened, silent save for the soft whirring of the gears beneath his protoform. He didn’t know how to respond. Breakbrawl’s expression softened further, and he leaned slightly towards Duster.

“B’sides, it just… it wouldn’t feel right without you,” he murmured, voice hushed to the point Duster wouldn’t have recognized him as the same mech who oh-so-gloriously demonstrated his fighting prowess the first time Duster ever saw him if he hadn’t seen this side of him once before. Duster took a small, hesitant step forward, swallowing the lump building at the back of his throat tubing.

“Y-you…. you could have become an Elite Guard, Brawl. You could have been promoted even further - you could have become a Prime, for crying out loud!” he spoke, voice trembling. “You could have become all that - gain the respect of the entire Autobot army, even - and you quit?” Duster felt something prickle at the corners of his optics. “F-for me?”

While Duster might have imagined the expression before, now there was absolutely no mistaking of the glow of pride on Breakbrawl’s face as the bot looked at Duster with what may have been the most fondness he had ever seen on a mech’s face before this moment. The barest hint of blue glowed on Breakbrawl’s cheeks as the mech chuckled, before a sly grin found its way on his face and his vents blew out a gust of air in a scoff.

“Tell ya what, Dusty, they can keep their damn Primes and promotions. Your company is perfectly good ‘nough for me,” Breakbrawl spoke with confident triumph, servo placed on top of his spark chamber to show the sincerity in his words.

Duster’s vents gave a small, choked whine he barely managed to stifle, and the minibot broke into a small, nearly hysterical fit of giggles. Breakbrawl looked concerned for a second before Duster quieted down, shoulders still shaking slightly.

“That’s… wow,” he finally replied with another muffled snort, grinning. “You…. seriously? That’s like… the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me,” Duster murmured softly, and Breakbrawl’s optics shone.

“Yeah, well, you deserve all the nice things in the whole world if I had any say in it.” He ignored Duster’s flustered sputtering for a moment before continuing with a grin, “And I’d say you’ve gone through enough scrap in your life as it is.” Breakbrawl paused again, expression softening once more. “Say what, how about we go exploring together? I can get us a small ship, we could just…” he spoke, slowly dragging his opened palm across the air in front of him as if to imitate a starship’s trajectory, “... fly through the cosmos, just you and I, no strict higher-ups bossing us around, no Sentinel to breathe down our necks, no limits or boundaries between us and the galaxy.”

Duster listened quietly, helm fins twitching with curiosity as he nodded slowly, optics gradually gaining back their passionate shine as he watched Breakbrawl animatedly gush about their future journey. The larger bot paused for a moment, glancing at Duster in a silent question.

“I heard there’s a small team of Autobots currently stationed on a planet called Earth and that they could use some backup. A change of scenery would be pretty nice wouldn't it?” Breakbrawl asked with an audible grin, tilting his helm to the side. “Whaddya say, lil, buddy? Wanna go on an adventure with me?”

Duster gave a short, delighted laugh in response, launching forward to wrap his arms around Breakbrawl’s chassis in a hug.

“Absolutely,” he said, burying his helm into the crook of Breakbrawl’s neck with a wide smile.

#saltfish writes #transformers #maccadam #tfa #transformers animated #long post / #suolabots #suolaocs #duster #breakbrawl #yeeHAW first fic posted to tumblr #tyler #:]