#feat cora

[devilsmenu]

@misteriios - Kyle & Cora

Kyle didn't had the Praetor Lupus in the city or neither Maia was around, he was definitely a packless wolf at that moment. His Praetor pendant wasn't with him, probably with Simon, so it definitely made him look like a lone wolf. The scent of another wolf fill up his nostrils and he waited till the other got closer. "Sorry, buddy, but I'm not on the mood for a fight tonight".

#misteriios #feat cora #ch: kyle #fighting mention tw

[felteverywhere]

closed starter for @distantxdaydreams​

“Thought I might find you in here.” There was a classroom that Beau and Cora frequented in the early days of their relationship, one that was rarely used and never checked during the lunch break. They used to sneak off to be unruly and obsessed with each other. He hadn’t thought of it at first, as he looked for her around the Cafeteria, but then he’d suddenly remembered it and came to find her. “I come bearing gifts.” He held up a paper bag stuffed with three cookies. “Bribed a lunch lady to give me some extras for you.” Bringing it towards her, he reached out, fingers brushing her cheek. “Are you okay?” 

#beau whiteside threads. #beau feat. cora #distantxdaydreams #verse: fairhope island

[belovedcorvid]

“is now a bad time to tell you i’m claustrophobic?” my oldest law headcanon is him being claustrophobic sooooo-

❣ | Memes :: This One | Forced Proximity Sentence Starters

---

" Damn it- "

Rocinante's curse was scarcely a breath - not angry but tense and desperately worried. This wasn't going to plan: that was always when he unravelled if he wasn't careful. Sure, they were not always welcomed everywhere they went, but times like this when people were as a whole immediately and openly hostile were rare. Government sponsored misinformation could be a hell of a thing. Finding a place to wait them out before sneaking back to their boat was proving to be a difficult task, between their ever-present pursuers and his own ridiculous size limiting possible hiding places. While they were trying to hide from a group of aggressive people wasn't the greatest time to find out about this, no, but that wasn't Law's fault. If anything, Rocinante supposed it was his fault for not picking up on that sooner, and the idea filled him with a kind of guilt that might have made him pause if not for the adrenaline already tearing through his system. After all, he knew what his own situational fear looked and felt like when it decided to raise its ugly head. Even if it was difficult to control or even fully perceive your own reaction when it occurred, he still knew what his behaviour was like when the two of them were being chased. The arms that held the other a little closer were careful, despite the way this situation made his whole body wire tense.

" I'm sorry, Law. "

That much was genuine, but the small space that they were going to have to duck into for a bit couldn't really be avoided with people right at their heels. This was an afterthought sort of space between buildings, an alcove no bigger than a cupboard and probably intended as a storage space or a spot to get out of the rain, but it would work for this. He had to kind of fold himself up in order for them both to fit with the door slid shut, but he still pressed himself as close to the walls as he could to forfeit space to his companion - even if it was sort of a futile effort. Though he wanted to help, the kid would probably not find much he could do to be comforting in this moment; Corazón kept a sharp ear on their surroundings instead, focusing on making his own breathing something quiet and steady for the other to copy and brushing a thumb along the inside of his wrist in a way that he hoped would be comforting but non-invasive.

#❣ | peace signs :: answered | #sleeplesswork #| that makes sense to me ! #Cora's like I get you but damn #feat. tall bird problems |

[attyattlaw]

cross posting yesterday's rambling thread for posterity and because tumblr lets me edit things. anyway this is a sorta long thing and i might add things i forgot to mention in the twt thread

i tend to draw on-model canon because im a coward + just personal preferences. but the way i convert the canon designs into my artstyle is that i take the distinct features oda gives them and then combine it with personal headcanons to complete what should look like a unique human. Starting with Trafalgar Law, who is unfortunately a bland-ass conventionally pretty boy

someone commented a while ago the law hat drawing tutorial i made a while ago didn't make much sense and i realize its bc of the specific way i draw law's face: heart shaped (ba-dum-tss). That meaning, a narrow chin widening into a mild defined jaw, wide cheekbones, and up to his know-it-all brain dome.

given that, the pudgy guitar pick shape of his head i mentioned here should make a lot more sense.

i don't think this design point is unique to me, as most conventional pretty anime boy gets given jaws like this. a lot of law artists tend to veer into this head shape. just how life be sometimes. other points: flat, thick eyebrows is bc im a hairy gal and i need to feel better about myself.

Killer gets to be more interesting, because he shouldn't be considered conventionally attractive. my idea behind killer's is that those individual features is smth he would be insecure with enough to hide himself in a helmet but i draw him with all the love in the world actually. i'd like to think its how kid sees him or yknow, law, bc he's my kin assigned blorbo and maybe you ship lawkill as a guilty pleasure too i mentioned before (and ruined people's days) when i said whenever i draw killer he looks like griffith before i put on his goatee. the upper half of his face is distinctly feminine, with the lower half kinda over compensating. other than that uhh...idk. stan killer

Kidd is the bane of my existence, i feel like i can never draw his face consistently. yet at the same time he's so damn fun to draw everyone gotta try it.

my problem with kidd is that this mf does have eyelids. most kidd painters out there interpret this as him having deep set eyes (think Matt Smith or jeffrey star) . and yeh skill issue on me i should practice that. other notes, i try to make him younger than canon makes him look. he is my babygirl and he deserves to look cuddly. my band au kidd version has the honor of being allowed some chubs. he's just tries to look older and more menacing with edgy makeup. also i try to give him dimples when i can because, well i can.

Rosinante last bc i lost steam after kidd. the thing abt cora is that aside from not having eyebrows, everything is structured with the generic one piece man template. which means i gotta do everything myself doffy is there bc the way to figure out how to draw these two is to give them minor differences from each other, that being doffy gets slightly sharper features. in canon, these two are also rly wide boys (more of an oda style feat tbh) but i make them long. though bigger brained donquixote artists know that of these two brothers, doffy should be the wiry-er built. anyway that's it. in conclusion, i need to draw more girls actually i feel like im becoming misogynistic by osmosis from oda's style and now i draw girls all looking the same too.

#one piece #trafalgar law #eustass kid #eustass kidd #op killer #massacre soldier killer #donquixote rosinante #donquixote corazon #donquixote doflamingo #was gonna do robin and perona too at least but like...i have a job and stuff

[love-that-we-were-in]

the harder the pain, the sweeter the sun

the aftermath of Luke's quest. or the consequences of not being a hero.

a/n: hello i didn't mean to be so sad on my entrance but we move! have fun (i'm so sorry)

It shouldn’t be like this, he thinks as he steps back across Camp Half-Bloods borders. There’s still the same mill of activity, archery and pegasi and swords grating against one another. Everything is exactly as it was when he left. Some people notice him as he makes his way towards his cabin - they don’t make small talk, what’s the point of that when he’s not the hero returned. His scar, still fresh, still raised and red across his face, feels heavy. It’s almost a beacon; a guiding light towards his failure. No one comments but he can feel it, the shift in energy as he walks past each cabin. Pity for the son of Hermes. 

His bunk is untouched. 

Collapsing onto the sheets, he glances around the space. It’s only him here, faced with his own reckoning and renown. His bunk is untouched but there’s two abandoned opposite, a careful stack of belongings at the end of each. Before dinner, he’ll change those sheets. He’ll pack Cora and Eric’s belongings into a box to stow away in the big house, amongst a dozen others he’s left there over the years, and he’ll burn shrouds to them with his campmates in the evening. 

Luke wonders, as he takes in the makeshift beds on the floor, if it was even worth coming back at all. 

Everyone moves on. Within days, there’s barely a mention of either of his quest companions. Both of them were unclaimed, watching their lives tick by in the two years he’d known them with little idea of who they were. The Stoll twins were given their beds upon their arrival at camp two days after he returned. They had been claimed, sent in the right direction by Hermes himself, and Luke despises the way he has to sit down with people he’s known for years and tell them they’re back to sleeping on the floor. Seniority is one thing - being claimed is more important. 

He trains. It’s the only thing he can do. There’s no pride that comes with failure. Some of the Ares kids jeer at him but none of them try to fight him, just watch as he fights with Annabeth like old times. Knife against sword. He trains and he studies and he watches as the floor of Hermes cabin becomes a minefield of belongings as summer peaks. 

Little will change between now and fall, he knows that with certainty. He’ll still be stuck burning food for his father, willing something to happen that will earn him a deserved quest. Maybe it’s foolish, this desire to try again, to keep going on quests until he returns from one he can say was his. Not a feat of Hercules, but a tale of Luke. He has camp glory, he needs more than that.

*

Summer ends, as it always did. He says goodbye to more cabinmates than anyone, standing at the edge of the borders until the sun is nearly setting in the sky. Thalia’s tree is behind him as the last kid leaves, an eleven year old girl that had done nothing more than stare with wide eyes every time he lifted a sword. He wonders if he’ll see her next June at all. 

“Back to basics again,” Annabeth says from behind him and he rolls his eyes as she shimmers into existence, baseball cap in hand. “Do you think it’ll get easier?”

He forgets sometimes that she’s still a kid. Wise beyond her years, a strategist to be admired, but just a kid. And a first time cabin counselor. She hasn’t said goodbyes like this before, to everyone she’s housed over three months. Teenagers that had looked to her as their leader, even if they didn’t understand her being given such power. Children who revered her position and her history as if she were a Greek tale herself.

Luke had understood it, had fought for it in April when Kieran Ho had sent word to Chiron that he wouldn’t be returning that summer. She had seemed so prepared to take on the role. He hadn’t realized that it might take more of an emotional toll than she was ready for. 

“Honestly,” he leans back against Thalia’s tree, surveying the camp below them as if he’s never seen it before. Annabeth glares at him for it. “It gets harder every year. It doesn’t end.”

“Some of those kids aren’t coming back.” Annabeth says it as a statement, a fact of life that they’ve both come to terms with. But there’s a shake to her voice, the kind saved only for when she’s terrified of being wrong, so he lets it linger in the air and get carried away. He thinks that’s answer enough. 

*

Winter Solstice comes and he feels ready. Months of only fighting Clarisse and Annabeth. Meals spent with the busiest table still, but with nothing to talk about. So long dedicated to being angry, to dreaming, to waking up in a cold sweat from everything he’s been given permission to see. 

He steals the bolt. It’s a simple plan, one he doubted originally, but it works a charm. There’s no questioning how important the Gods think of themselves anymore, how above everybody else they view themselves (literally and figuratively) to be. He escapes from floor 600 of the Empire State Building with the source of Zeus’ power in his possession and no one bats an eye. 

Annabeth will never have to come to terms with losing campers. Thalia’s sacrifice won’t be in vain the way it has been since his return. Hermes won’t be able to ignore him any longer, pretending as if being a glorified mailman means more than his son. By next summer, the world will already have begun to change. 

Trekking through Manhattan, he understands now why he was destined to fail against Ladon. What his scar will come to represent in years to come. Luke Castellan was never meant to steal an apple - he was destined, instead, to change history and with that, the world.

#luke castellan #percy jackson #pjo #🖋️abi writes…

[leakyweep]

@risenwrites says; For your 500 followers event, I say... A4!! (If that's okay jdndjejf)

A/N; Of course it's okay! Thanks for joining Leaky's Bingo! I hope you enjoy your piece! Feat. baby Law

Words; 0.5k

A4 - Donquixote Rosinante / Goofy fun

While this work is safe for everyone, my blog is not. Minors and ageless blogs, do not access my page. You will be blocked.

"Hurry up, Cora-san! Hurry up!"

"Okay, okay! Just gotta... there."

Cora pulled up from your sleeping form on the couch, placing his hands on his hips successfully. He had planted the trap.

In his hand; a can of whipped cream. In his mushroom-hatted accomplice's hand; a feather. Little Law was snickering quietly behind his palm as he passed over the feather to Cora. He gave the boy a wink and a thumbs up before kneeling beside you to tickle your nose.

Law peeked in from behind Cora's shoulder to watch yourself smear whipped cream all over your face. This had been his idea after all, and after getting his uncle convinced, he was practically vibrating with excitement. "Their eyes! I saw them move!" Law whisper-shouted, pointing at you as you slept.

"Don't worry, Traffy. You'll get your revenge." Cora stuck out his tongue to carefully and unknowingly pet your nose with the feather, making you smear your palm of cream all over your face.

This had all started when you thought it would be funny to tell Law you ate all of his halloween candy. To say the kid was sad was an understatement; after telling you it was alright, he stomped to his room and cried into his pillow. It seemed he had been looking forward to his Reese's cups. When he found out it was a joke, though, he pouted and swore to get you back.

Now, he watched Cora lean over you and tickle your unsuspecting nose, a child-like smile painted across his cheeks. "This is gonna be good. Great idea, Traf."

Law's confident smirk graced his features-

Until, in one fateful moment, your hand collided with skin, splatting cream everywhere and causing you to startle from your sleep. Law started to laugh, but his giggles deafened as he observed the scene. However, it seemed you weren't the one covered in cool whip.

It took a moment for Cora to realize he had been smacked in the face with your handful of whipped cream, but when he did, he couldn't control his laughter and fell onto the floor, leaving both you and Law confused on what the hell had just happened.

When he explained the situation, you had only one response,

"Of course a joke planned by you would backfire."

"Well, at least it was still funny! I'm sorry I tried to trick you. Lemme give you a kiss to make it up." Cora laughed and pressed a kiss to your lips before rubbing his nose against yours, leaving you both soiled with sugary faces.

"And I still gotcha."

Before Law could make his dramatic gagging noises and tell you guys to stop, he got one look at your face and lost it. The revenge he was so savagely seeking was quenched. You couldn't even be mad at how Law fell on the floor laughing, saying it looked like a bird pooped on you both. It was a harmless prank, and you loved both of the boys too much to let something so cute get to you.

#corazon x reader #corazon x you #leaky's bingo #rosinante x reader #rosinante x you #x reader #donquixote rosinante #one piece fanfiction #one piece #fanfic #mi corazon #op #liv writes

[stlamb]

pisces season energy....

#music

[velnica]

🎄 Happy Starlight 2023! ✨

Thank you for all your support this year as I expand my OC & bard boys lore. It’s been a blast and a half, so let’s have even more fun next year!

Love ~ Vel, Fjora, Cora and the bard unit

After the Final Days were thwarted and the various contingents returned home, the populace—soldiers and civilians alike—needed something positive to cling to. Not just hope on the ephemeral Warrior of Lights, but also something nearer and dearer to their heart: a return to normalcy. Thus for Starlight this year, the bard unit had been roped into performing on stage, and Sanson asked for every one of his team to join him and Guydelot.

They were supported by Fjora, Cora, and Haurchefant, who had settled—for now—in Gridania. To Sanson's shock and Guydelot's amusement, Commander Vorsaile had raised his hand to join the festivities, and who was Sanson to reject the chance for more merriment? Group assembled, they took to the stage, ready to share some Starlight cheer for one and all.

Individual photos and bio of the bard unit under the cut 💖

The following character bios are written to fit into my WoL's canon timeline and therefore will not reflect the game's information. Edit 25 Dec: I have updated some of their ages to a few years younger, to explain their absence from being conscripted at Carteneau.

Warrior of Lights:

Fjora Swiftmane: A Rava Viera of fourty-eight summers who left Golmore in search of freedom, only to find it eventually trampled under Garlean ruthlessness. She joined the Dalmascan resistance for a time, though Livia sas Junius' massacre ended her involvement. Fjora left Othard with anger and grief in her heart, and Hydaelyn's calling to be her champion was the start of her healing journey. She is an Uhlan, a heavy-infantry lancer whose skill is now augmented by her Dragoon training.

Corentin Arceneaux: A Wildwood Elezen bard of twenty-five summers, born to antique trader parents in Othard. He became a ward of Rasho and Tansui after his parents were murdered by the Garleans for being undercover Resistance financiers. Cora stayed in the Ruby Sea until the liberation of Doma, when he decided to travel with his long lost sister/close family friend Fjora. His weapon of choice is his giant Hingan bow and his magic-imbued Sanshin. At present he is entangled in some kind of strange relationship to one Hancock Fitzgerald, to whom he owes money for breaking a priceless vase in his collection.

The Twin Adder Bard unit:

Sanson Smyth: A young Midlander lancer who captains the Bard unit. He is steadfast with a strong sense of morality and justice, a trait that often puts him at odds with his Adder superiors. Yet with the support of Guydelot and Vorsaile, he vows to stay true to his conviction and lead Gridania to a better future. At twenty-two years of age, he still thinks himself inexperienced, despite the accolades that he is fast accumulating on his mantelpiece. He is in a long-term relationship with Guydelot.

Guydelot Thildonnet: A talented, wilful Wildwood bard who was infamous for his truancy and recalcitrance towards any kind of authority. In recent times he's seen a marked improvement in his attendance, and one might even say he's turned a new leaf into the straight and narrow, all under the stern command of Captain Sanson Smyth; a feat backed by the medal tally that the man cared little about. What most people do not know, however, is that the twenty-four year old bard owes this change to his genuine interest and commitment to this unit... and to Sanson himself.

Karinae Béringer: Sanson's second in command ever since he was made Captain, Karinae is a skilled Duskwight lancer who's ready to defend her friends and comrades at any moment's notice, no matter when or where. Usually you would find the twenty-three year old in the Druthers, hustling free drinks out of any poor souls with her captivating charm���except for Dietrich.

Perinnault Deschamps: A novice bard with brilliant aim and a keen sense of tempo who joined Sanson's unit before the liberation of Ala Mhigo. At twenty and one summers, the Wildwood Elezen is eager to learn everything there is about being a bard, and is improving markedly with every mission that he undertakes.

Dietrich Eltz: Despite his splendid marksmanship, the twenty year old Midlander is a sensitive soul who is prone to crying at the drop of a hat when overwhelmed. His voice had been likened to the sweetness of a spring bloom, and his good looks had won him the admiration of many; yet all he wants is to learn how to become confident in his own skill, and to be admired by the merit of his battlesongs.

Minh'to Zhwan: A twenty-three year old Keeper of the Moon lancer who was temporarily assigned to Sanson's unit just after the Ballad of Oblivion quest, Minh'to gained the utmost respect for the Captain after they survived and routed an Ixali skirmish. He asked to be transferred permanently and is now thriving under Sanson's leadership, which allows him to learn a myriad of combat skills from their joint Alliance training. He is fiercely protective of his twin sister.

Aemi Zhwan: Stuck in a rut at her previous unit with no pathway to improvement, the twenty-three year old Keeper of the Moon conjurer eventually asked for a transfer to Sanson's unit at the insistence of her twin brother just before Ghimlyt. After surviving the bloody battle, she vowed to support her newly-found comrades in any way she could, having been awed by Guydelot's prowess in the field. She was a sickly child growing up, and Minh'to stepped in to be her protector.

Dya Nakhiri: A studious conjurer, the twenty-four year old Highlander can often be found sequestering themselves in the corner of the Nest, surrounded by books on conjury and battle tactics. When the bards joined Sanson's unit, suddenly their horizon was expanded and now they are deep into research on how to better align the bards' songs with the conjurers' healing spells. Despite their stern countenance, Dya is quietly warm and welcoming once you endear yourself to them.

Supporting casts:

Haurchefant Greystone: Stolen away by accident to the First at the moment of his death by Crystal Exarch, Haurchefant had been living and training there for nigh ten years, all to better support Fjora when she finally comes to save them all. After a harrowing reunion, they decided to rekindle their relationship, though the plan went awry when Haurchefant became tempered by Fjora's absorbed Light. After an intervention by Hydaelyn before she departs, his soul becomes stable enough to be housed in a Hannish simulacrum, crafted personally as a gift for the Warrior of Light. He now travels with her and Cora, ever ready to defend his friends and family once more. Counting his time in the First, he is now thirty and eight summers old.

Vorsaile Heuloix: The High Commander of the Twin Adders is no stranger to challenging authority, a trait that had served him well during his mercenary days. Ever since the affair with Gylbarde's Journal, the thirty-five year old Wildwood had taken a shine to Sanson and his upstanding integrity and despite not being his direct superior, he's been mentoring the Captain to be his protégé—in defiance to every Adders protocol that keeps him employed. He still grimaces when people affectionately calls him 'Vorsie' though he might be warming up to the nickname at the slowest of snail's pace.

#aaaaand done #thank you all for indulging me this year #next year I will become more unbearable #happy starlight! #oc: fjora swiftmane #oc: corentin arceneaux #haurchefant greystone #vorsaile heuloix #sanson smyth #guydelot thildonnet #oc: the Adders bard unit #haurchewol #guydesan #bard boys #ffxiv #ffxiv gpose #my gposes

[lucky-bishop]

WIP Tag Game!!

Thanks for the tags, @dear-massacre and @rosieposiepuddingnpie!!

I have so many WIPs. Like. Too many. Some of these will probably never end up actually getting written. BUT, alas, here we go!

Non-Teen Wolf:

Nadja Pegs Laszlo (WWDITS)

The one-brain cell polycule (WWDITS)

Guillermo Mercy Kills Nandor (WWDITS)

Gay Besties (endgame Steddie but mostly abt the Steve & Robin friendship, Stranger Things)

Teen Wolf, Not Prompts:

7 minutes in heaven (Stiles' sexy birthday celebration w/ the pack)

A Parting Gift (MCD) The nogitsune leaves a gift behind. Sterek.

Affectionate Biting - Malia's love language is Biting

Lonely Girl (MCD) - Allison's ghost haunts Lydia

Alpha Peter bitches Stiles

Shifter Royalty Stilinski Family Steter

Extra Hedonist Peter w/ Bottom Dom Stiles

S1 monster of the week crack feat. the sheriff, Scott, Stiles, and Derek

Deputy Chris Argent, endgame Chris/Sheriff

DILF Chris Argent, mostly Stargent w/ endgame Stiles/Chris/Isaac

Erica Prom Queen Murder Spree

FBI Trainee Stiles

Stiles can't suck dick but Peter uses his face in Other ways

Monsterfucker dildo where Stiles gets a monster mate

Steter monsterfucking in the woods

Peter's presumptuous when he gets with Stiles but ends up getting an actual BDSM education

Non-con mating bite, Steter

Possessive Peter Steterek! The only one of these that's currently on AO3 as Possessive Beasts!

Peter babytraps omega Stiles

Sciles makes an "if we're not married by x" pact and then commits shenanigans trying to keep each other single

Unrequited Stiles/Scott where Scott rejects Stiles

Crack shrunken Peter fic

Smart Scott 5+1

Stiles/Peter/Deucalion college fic

Stargent Painting Fic - inspired by Lorde

Dark Stargent - Chris takes Stiles as a surrogate daughter after Allison dies

Sterek (MCD) - Derek returns to find Beacon Hills, and Stiles, in shambles. He tries to save them both.

Peter finding out that Stiles doesn't trust him even though they're together, inspired by T.Swift "Hoax"

Steter "hands are meant to be held" Valentine fic

Part 3 of the Steterek feminization where Stiles tops the hell out of Derek and Peter

Stiles is horny and has access to a 3d printer (Steter getting together)

Stiles/Cora/Derek dangerous Hales make Stiles horny

My very Steter take on The Train Station

Stiles gets bit by a grindr hookup fic

Transmasc Stiles and TA Peter get together

Teen Wolf & Buffy fusion, where Stiles is a Watcher (end game Stetopher)

Untitled Sterek watersports fic

Writer in the Dark, another Lorde-inspired fic, with the Kira/Cora pairing!

Teen Wolf, Prompts:

Greenberg has an absolute glo-up and everyone Notices

Stiles and Scott go looking for trouble (feral Derek and Peter) and they find it

Co-Alphas Scott and Derek fuck

Derek is being thrown a surprise party, but doesn't like surprises, and this leads to him and Stiles boning

Derek spanks Scott and Stiles for being shitheads towards him

Peter shows off wearing panties and the whole pack takes turns taking them off of him

Fox Stiles and Scott are roommates, and they compete to respectively make Peter and Lydia loud in bed

So I guess. That's technically 45 wips which is actually insane! Especially because that doesn't count any of the ~10 events or so I will probably participate in per year!

Anyway tagging: @lavender-lotion, @beaconfeels, @like-lazarus, @thotpuppy, @midnightwinterhawk, @meggie-stardust and anyone else who would like to play along!

#tag game #wips #my life is out of control #my writing

[writingcold]

Hi there.  Welcome to Chapter 16.  We’ve had some fluffy healing.  It’s time to start buckling up.  We have a few chapters left of Act II, and Act III is… fast.  

If you are just joining us, you can find the Master List to the series here

A very huge hug and thank you goes out to @lvnterninthenight, @gardensgatedaisy and @whitesuitjake.  You’ve heard me gush about them all the way through, and there’s still more to go.  Yeah.  Pretty amazing humans there.

This is a work of fiction, and is totally mine.  Please do not take it for your own personal use.  I’ve put in hours of research, hours upon hours of writing, re-writing, screaming, yelling and vomiting over this epic of a story.  But it is mine.

Content warning:  Again, just saying this is an 18+ story for a reason.  This has elements of violence, so please be ready.  There is harm to women, there is harm to two major characters.  

Word count: approx. 6000

Chapter Sixteen: Dark Horizons - Cora

     Late Autumn storms shedding rain and snow had descended on Kingsford.  The last week of October was encroaching.  She felt like she blinked and six months had culminated in so much life that she scarcely believed it ever happened.  To be away from the farm and to be free of Kilbourne was a feat unto itself.  But to have the love of Jacob was unbelievable.  To have found an equal footing and beginning of a friendship with Joshua made her smile.  This family had welcomed her without hesitation, without warrant, supporting her, sheltering her and her own.  Jacob wanted a family - with her.  The notion filled her with something she had very little of six months prior: hope.

      “Morning, Joshua!”  she called as she walked through the back door, tucking her key into her bag.

      “Morning, lovely,”  he called back, his nose already buried in work.

      “Going to have lunch with Jacob today,”  she said as she started pulling out her first tasks.  “Are you going to come along?”

      He appeared in her doorway.  “Actually, I have lunch planned with the Reading brothers.”

      They laughed.  The Reading brothers owned the feedlot that Josh had offered to purchase several times.  It had become a running joke that the brothers so enjoyed Josh’s free lunches only to turn him down when it came time for him to pitch his deal.  Josh would shrug it off and continue laying in wait for the time that he would offer half of his original purchase offer and they would have to take it as they had no one else interested in their fading business.

     Cora settled in at her desk.  Josh had asked her to start looking into the balances of the bank in prior years, essentially making sure that the business of the bank itself was sound.  She had been reading line by line entries in the bank’s records, noting anything that looked odd or did not line up with accounts.  Though she had come across a few errors, she had yet to truly find anything that would be considered riveting. 

     Sitting up and looking away to refocus her eyes, Cora felt a shiver.  The bank was awfully silent for the hour at hand.  There seemed to be no customers in the lobby at all - a true rarity.  Closing her eyes to rest them just for a few moments, she felt her brain readjust.  Standing, she went to the bookcase by the door to retrieve the next ledger.  The scent of tobacco struck her nose and a grin tugged at her mouth, thinking perhaps Jacob had arrived early.  As she turned back to the desk, another scent struck, it was dark and mildewy.  The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as a chill touched her cheeks.  Pain flared at the back of her head as a hand grasped hold of her braided bun, yanking her frame backwards.  A surprised yelp was cut short as another hand wrapped around her throat, crushing the air from her.      “Where’s my wife, bitch,”  Harold Archer's voice filled her ears.

     Her body slammed against him but he slapped the side of her head.  Her ear exploded in a fit of ringing while stars cast across her right eye.  He yanked her backwards once more, dragging her from her office into the short hall.

     “Are you really this stupid?”  Josh’s voice came from behind.

     Archer spun them around, his free hand moving out to steady them.  She gurgled for air, her body flinching with shock.  

     “Think it through, Harold,”  Josh said calmly.  “This cannot end well for any of us if-”

     Cora felt something sharp run across her forearm like a thousand bees were being dragged by their wings, followed by pain that forced a whimper from the bottom of her gut.  Josh’s face grew hard.  His dark amber eyes went flat with rage.  Cora gritted her teeth as the sharp point was pushed into her ribs as she started to be dragged away from Josh, Archer’s hold on her tightened as he laughed over the situation.

     “Come on, little man.  Come on out here so that we have more room to play,”  Archer taunted.

     “Fine, Harold,”  Josh replied, his voice kept low and calm.

     Cora’s insides twisted and jostled as panic began to pool in her feet.  She could feel her arm bleeding, the shock of injury making it feel hot and itchy.  Once to the main area of the bank, her eyes went right to the tellers.  Both ladies were behind the locked counter, their faces wild with fear, but both seemed unharmed.  The windows were all covered.  Cora’s breath began to stutter as her own fear began to stab and twist in her, much like the knife that was digging in her side.

     “Cora,”  Josh called out, trying to get her attention.  “Cora, listen.  Don’t fight.  Hear me?”

     Archer laughed.  “Oh, I think she’s gonna want to fight.  If she knew what I wanted to do to her, she'd want to fight.  She owes me a wife, I can just take it from her.”

     Her body quivered.  This was Junie’s daily experience.  This man who presented such respectability was a monster.  Involuntarily, she strained, only to have him dig the blade deeper.

      “Cora,”  Josh soothed, despite his eyes widening with emotions.  “Please…”

      “On your knees, Kiszka,”  Archer seethed.

     She watched as Josh complied, sinking to his knees, hands out before him.  Her heart raced, but she stayed as still as she possibly could as the hand slid away from her neck, down her chest, grabbing a breast in a painful clutch.  She did not give him the satisfaction of a reaction, keeping her eyes directly on Joshua.  For a moment, there was comfort.  Whatever Archer planned, Josh would ensure they survived together.  She ignored the shredding of her pretty blue dress - the one that Molly had given her and had insisted she wear it on the last day of shop trial, and wear it for Jake.  She ignored the man’s hand as he attempted to humiliate her before Joshua.  However, the sight of Josh’s face flashing panic as he lunged forward cued icy fear to flood her brain.  Archer kicked him, landing a solid blow to his face.  The clerks screamed.  

      “You should’ve been mine,”  Archer oozed.  “That twin of his has been fattening you up, hasn’t he?  You’re not all skinny like your sister.  Has he put his cock in you yet?  Shown you what a man is?”

     “Harold!”  Josh said sharply, rising up again.

     Archer kicked him again, this time in the ribs.  Before she could move, Cora felt something sharp stab into her right buttock.  She hissed over the stark sting.  Archer laughed before planting a wet kiss against her cheek.  His body shifted against her as he reached into his pocket.  The knife dug against her side causing her to gasp.  Archer slammed his hand against her mouth and nose.  Cora choked as powder invaded her, chalky and bitter.

     “Yeah, I think I’ll enjoy taking that,”  he said crudely.

     “Please, no,”  she whispered, tears hitting her cheeks as Josh struggled forward once more, blood smeared across his face.

     “Cora?”  he asked, his eyes full of fright.  Each letter seemed suddenly drawn out, like she was watching him speak in symbols.  “Cora?  Lovely, stay with me.  Keep your eyes…”

     Pain exploded against her side as she was shoved down.  She brought her hand up, unable to understand the fluid that was so sticky that covered her hand and arm.  The world started to dim, as if colors were beginning to not exist.  Her head felt heavy and her neck could no longer hold the weight.  She shivered.  Her whole body felt cold and hot in intermittent waves as she struggled forward.  She knew Joshua was calling out to her, but the words made her eyes want to flutter.  She needed Jacob.  Her Jacob.  She needed his warmth and gentleness.  Each time her eyes drifted closed only to open again, leaving her more confused if it was real or dream.  Nightmare or hell.

Chapter Sixteen: Pt. 2, Jacob

     The sky was heavy with clouds that would eventually spill snow as he walked towards the bank.  He had set up Mr. Thornaby in the Tiger.  He had dropped in on Sam as he continued to make adjustments to the Moon now that he could take the time to really study and experiment on the rig.  When he arrived at the Northern Trust door, he was startled to find it locked.  The curtain on the main window was drawn obscuring anything that may have been going on.  His gut twisted.  His breath steadied as he listened to anything that may be happening on the other side of the door.  The quiet made his mind sizzle with panic.

      “You’re one of them Kiszka brothers,”  a voice called out.  “I’ve been waiting to get in there.”

      Jacob looked up at the man that was walking towards him.  “Oh, so sorry.  I’ll get right on that, sir.  It’ll only be a few more minutes.”

      Turning, he walked across to the post office, all the while trying to make his face look calm.  The clerk behind the counter looked up as he entered.

     “I’m sorry to be a bother,”  he said, forcing his voice to sound friendly.  “I’m -”

     “What can I help with, Mr. Kiszka?”  the gentleman asked.

     “I need to borrow your telephone,”  he said, looking back out the window across the street.  “I fear I have forgotten the key for the bank and it was my morning to open the doors…”

      “Oh, of course.  Here, step this way,”  the clerk said with a wave of his hand.

      He waited until the man moved out of earshot to call the garage phone.  Sam picked up, his tone annoyed.

      “Get heavy back up and meet me at the center with keys,”  he said firmly before hanging up.

      He flashed his biggest smile.  “Thank goodness for baby brothers, right?”

      He paused to glance out the window once more.  The thought that it was Archer in that bank with Cora and Josh prickled just underneath his skin.  There was no telling how long the man had been inside and what damage he had already been entailed.  He dug in his breast pocket for his cigarette holder as he crossed the street.  By the time he was rounding the back of the building in the alley, he had one out and lit.  He paused at the windows, listening for whatever was going on, only to be met with silence.  The minutes felt like days as he waited for Sam and Marcus and anyone else his brother would be able to rouse.  

      Two smokes lay crushed to the pavement beneath his feet.  Jake’s panic was beginning to choke his throat.  A muffled scream from inside chilled his heart.  His brain could not identify if it was Cora or someone else in the bank.  Was it one of the clerks?  Was it Cora?  His brain registered the tone as feminine sending his blood to raging.  His thoughts raced faster than his body could keep up with them.  Just as he was about to say the hell with it and break the door down, Marcus jumped down from the running boards of the Kissel as Sam parked.

      “What the hell is going on?”  Sam asked, holding out the keys.   

      “Everything’s locked up, windows are covered,”  Jake said, moving towards the doorknob.  “It’s gotta be Archer.  I can’t hear anything, and it’s been too long to be a fucking bank job.”

      Marcus stopped him, his face hard.  “You two stay behind me.  Jake, no matter what you see, do not feed into him.”

      The vein in his forehead began to throb.  Marcus had been the darkness of an enforcer for so long for the Diamante family that nothing surprised the man.  Jake nodded, turning the key in the knob as slow as possible to not make sound.  They moved through the short hall into the rear offices of the bank.  Jake noticed that Cora’s door was open and the room empty.  Josh’s door was closed, but it was easy to figure out that he was not in his office as Jacob heard his brother’s voice sharp and cold in the main lobby of the bank.  The words were followed by a hard slap and grunt.  Marcus had his pistol out.  The man’s grizzled face was hard with the duty at hand.

      He crouched his frame down and nearly crawled to the edge.  Jake and Sam followed suit.  

      “Don’t know what the fuck you think you’re going to get out of this Harold,”  Josh muttered, his voice thick.  “No one will trust you after this.  No one will allow a sick assed bastard who likes to hurt little girls to be a part of their community, let alone the head of their largest bank in town.”

      Jake felt Sam flinch as Josh was struck.  He couldn’t see anything around Marcus.  Mentally, he tried to picture anyone who would be in the space aside from Josh and Archer and Cora.  There would be two clerks.  Or, would there only be one…  His brain fuzzed over as he heard Archer hit something, but no sound followed except for Josh growling and spitting venom.  Marcus looked back at him hard.

     “Jacob, no matter what, do not come around this corner until I say.  Do you understand?”  the elder said, his voice thin with anger.

      “What the fuck did he do-”

      The man’s eyes held death.  This was the enforcer that Sastrato Torello had sent to them for protection of his daughter for a reason.  Jake felt himself melt into the wall behind him.  Sam held onto his shoulder as Marcus snuck out into the main space.  Archer was absolutely rambling in his fury.  He anticipated a gunshot, but instead was surprised by the sickening crunch of bone, followed by screaming.  Screaming of the women behind the counter bounced off the walls.  Screaming of a man in pain pierced the ears.  There were wet thuds that made his stomach turn.  

     “Marcus,”  Josh’s slurred voice called out as another hit landed.  “Marcus stop…”

     “Fuck it, Sam,”  Jacob hissed standing up.

     “Marcus!”  Josh called again, his voice a little stronger.

     Jake stepped out into the open with Sam right behind him.  The narrow room froze as his heart pounded like it was lurching from his chest and back.  Sam rushed forward as Josh was trying to reach out to Marcus.  The youngest grabbed hold of the enforcer’s arm to capture his attention, nearly incurring the man’s wrath.  Archer was gasping for air beneath him.  Josh was holding onto his ribs, cheek pressed to the wood floor.  Wild-eyed, he searched for Cora.  Following his twin’s gaze, he discovered she was hunched over between the wall and counter.  Her eyes were closed and her head was slumped against the brick of the wall.  No air reached his lungs.  His jaw grew slack.

     “Jacob,”  Josh groaned as Sam dragged him up to sit upright.  “I don’t know what he doped her up with, but I wouldn’t let him touch her, Jake.  I took it.”

     He looked at her, realizing that her dress was in pieces on the floor.  Shrugging out of his coat he started to move quickly towards her, but her head snapped up, panic in her face.  There was no recognition in those blue eyes he so loved.

     “Sam, go get Sheriff Moore,”  Josh was saying behind him.

     “Finch,”  Jacob whispered, holding his hand out to her.  He wanted to weep as she tried to claw herself away from him.  “Baby, it’s me.”

      He tried to hush and soothe.  All the while, he wanted to turn and rip the skin from the sick fuck that lay in a bloody mass behind him.  The fury that bubbled in his stomach made him want to vomit.  Cora’s body folded once more and took advantage of her weakness, covering her body with his coat and wrapping his arms around her.  He repeated his love over and over as he smoothed her hair.  

     Gentle hands came down on his shoulder.  He moved slowly so as not to startle Cora.  Mrs. Cooper and Miss Klass were behind him, their weary faces full of concern.  He was about to turn back, but Mrs. Cooper held out Cora’s long, lined coat.

     “This might work better, Mr. Jacob,”  she said.  “Can we help?  Maybe get her to a chair.  Marit, go get her chair from the office.”

     The younger lady moved away without a word.  Jacob slid himself backward, while trying to keep his hands soft on her.  The emotion choked him at the sight of the blood on her hand, arm, and on her side that seemed to be from a deep slice.  His breath rushed from him as her eyes flared but her mouth remained mute.

     “Steady, Mr. Jacob,”  Mrs. Cooper whispered, as she moved to his side, her hand wrapping around Cora’s other shoulder.  

     Together, they got her from the small space.  Cora started shrieking, clawing at the air, her blows landing on Jacob’s back in hard thunks.  Mrs. Cooper tried to catch the flailing arms, but could only catch one before the other broke free.  Marcus moved around to come behind them, clutching Cora around the middle.

      “Jacob, sit down,”  he directed.  “You’ll have to hold her.  Move that chair over, close to the wall.  She needs a small space.” 

      Jake sat down, uncertainty pounding through his body as Marcus lowered his girl into his lap.  He held on as tightly as she would allow.  He caught Josh’s gaze.  He could not hide the heaving emotions that pushed at him.  The fear that pulsed in his brain, to the love that quivered in his chest, all of it lay bare for everyone to see as Cora writhed against him, her whimpers piercing him like blades.  Marcus draped her coat over them, effectively covering her, and tucking it around her frame for modesty.  

      “Miss Klass, go fetch Doctor Boone.  Tell him it’s an emergency,”  Mrs. Cooper ordered, her voice firm, despite the tremble of fear that still resided in the moment.

      “Marcus,”  Josh said, his voice thin.  “You need to get out of here.  Sheriff Moore can’t see you.”

      The enforcer’s eyes closed for a few beats of breath.  Jake watched as the man was struggling.  

      “You take care of her, Jake,”  he said quietly, the hardness evaporating from his face, replaced by concern. 

      “I will,”  he whispered.  “Tell Rosemary for me.  Tell her mama that I will care for her.”

      He watched as Marcus moved quickly out the back door.  Cora’s cries softened.  Her body shook under his touch.  His eyes landed on the fabric of her dress, the swirls of color on silk that lay hidden just beneath the chiffon.  The tip of his tongue pressed against his upper lip as if trying to hold back the anger, the fear that was merely the front for the guilt that loitered along the fringes of his thoughts.  

      He vaguely recognized that Sheriff Moore had entered with Sam, a few deputies were with them.  Martin quickly posted the extra men around the front to control the crowd that had gathered.  At the sight of Archer, the man needed little explanation of events.  Josh was fading fast.  Jake kept whispering against the soft perfume of Cora’s hair, trying to will her back to him through the drug haze that the monster had unleashed on her.   

      Doc arrived.  One look at Cora and he was dismayed.  There was no telling what Archer had shot her with.  The hypodermic needle that he utilized would be helpful, but only if they had some notion of what was in it prior to injection.  The doctor identified the wounds as being knife stabs and slashes that needed stitches.  The puncture on her ribs was going to need attention.  Josh was in rough shape.  He had broken ribs, the left arm was dislocated at the shoulder, a few fingers were snapped.  Archer had yet to rouse from the beating that Marcus had unleashed.  Jake silently thanked the man for each shattered bone, each break of the skin, each bruise.  The remorse that he was not in the building pounded only as bright as the shame he felt for wanting to have been the one to dole out the terror that had been unleashed by Marcus.

     Josh’s sharp yelp brought him out of his thoughts.  Doc had popped the arm back into the socket.  He watched as his twin slumped to the floor, eyes closed, nearly mirroring the unchecked mass that Martin stood over.  Boone wanted all three to the hospital, just to have a quieter stage to clean everyone up.  Jake had not realized the noise outside the bank.  A crowd had gathered, some panicked about not being able to get inside the bank, others loudly yelling about a bank robbery.  Martin had the deputies load up Josh and help Jake get Cora into the Kissel.  Sam drove across town, leaving the sheriff and his men to figure out what to do with the now destroyed Harold Archer.

Chapter Sixteen: Pt. 3, Cora POV

     She could feel sunshine - cold - but sunshine on the skin on her face.  Her mouth felt like sand had been poured inside until she could hold no more.  She barely moved and her body erupted in hot, throbbing pain.  Cora instantly froze, keeping her eyes closed.  She drifted into the silence.  Sleep rolled across her like she pictured how waves would feel if she were ever to visit Lake Superior, or dared to really travel and see the ocean.  She could hear Jacob’s voice from time to time, leaving her to wonder if it was just in her dreams or if he was really talking to her but she was unable to answer.  Mingled in, she thought perhaps she heard her mother.  All the while, she longed for Junie.  The brutality that she faced - alone - was unforgivable to be put through such a state and still call her family for what they still needed to be: family.

     Cora wanted to move.  She wanted to whisper through the thick mud that resided in her throat.  Her limbs felt like concrete; heavy and unmoveable.  Her brain wanted nothing more than stillness.  She felt drawn under once more.  The dark was rich and velvety, like Jacob’s voice when he would whisper to her in the night against her ear.  The way he would talk to her as they made love.  The way he would tell her he loved her.  Her heart swelled over the notion that this man chose her.  This man saw his life with her.  The quiet stretched into dreams filled with color and warmth.

      The next time she surfaced above the sleep waves, she could hear Joshua talking.  His voice seemed so distant.  He had been her protector for as long as he could.  She wondered if her body accepted Archer in her frozen state.  If her body allowed him to be inside.  If her body betrayed her heart and mind.  How was Jacob going to look upon her when she did fully wake from her haze?  She wondered if she would still be the object of love for him.  She wondered if Josh would have to explain it to his twin what he was witness to.  The thoughts tore at her spirit.  How that monster clung to the fringes of her - did he have to touch her?  Did he have to violate her?  Would she even know fully what he had done not just to her, but to her sister?  They were not questions she needed to truly answer… did she?  Instead, she allowed the wave to carry her away once more, settling into remembrances of the way Jacob walked at her side, treating her as equal.

     “You would’ve been proud of her, Jake,”  Josh’s voice echoed through her thoughts.  “She gave that fucker no satisfaction of any kind of reaction.  She was beyond brave.”

     “I don’t want her to…”  Jacob’s voice cracked.  “Josh, I don't want her to remember.”

     There was silence.  Cora focused on the hurt in his voice.  The strain.  Whatever Archer did after the end of her memory must’ve been awful.  

     “Why would she need to?  He -”

     Josh’s words tumbled through the abyss as she plunged downwards once more.  How one could feel like they were underwater but walking through the desert at the same time was beyond her reckoning.  There was blood here.  There was pain.  That monster’s laugh pierced her with each twist of his knife.  But Joshua was there.  Those eyes, so much like her Jacob, but more like dark caramel, more bits of gold and mischief.  Those eyes kept her rooted, kept her with him.  It was not just her blood, her pain, was it?  He barked and badgered, insulted and whined, anything to bait Archer away from her.  So much of those moments were shrouded in gauze that was stickier than spider silk.  

      Sunshine on her face.  She could see the light on the outside of her eyelids.  It was a warm, fuzzy light that beckoned her; welcomed her home.  She experimented with sliding her arm up to touch her face.  Then she flexed her toes.  The pain wasn’t so bad.  She turned her face against the pillow, hoping to breathe Jacob’s scent in, but it was a sterile smell, one that was foreign.  Blowing out a breath, she tried to clear the debris from her throat.

     “Finch?”  Jacob whispered, his voice next to her.  

     Her fingers landed on her throat.  She tried to form words, but she was so dry.  The grit of whatever dirt was in her windpipe kept her from saying anything.  Instead, she tried to open her eyes to look upon him.  Sharp rays of sunshine stabbed at her and she was quick to shut them back out.  He pressed his hand to her shoulder and the sunshine dimmed against her.

     “Finch?”  he whispered again, his face close enough for her to feel his breath.  

     Cora tried again, opening her eyes to a haze of light.  Her eyelids felt like each one weighed tons, fighting against herself to look around.  His fingers touched her mouth before sliding across her cheek.  He let out a soft laugh as she struggled to focus.  She could only imagine what she looked like with her eyeballs feeling like they were moving in opposite directions.

     “I’m so glad to see you, baby,”  he whispered, planting little kisses across her face.

     She tried to say something… anything…  Only air escaped through the throb that pulsed on the inside of her throat.  She tried to whisper, to get something out, but the air caught, leaving her gasping to fill her lungs.

     His brows knit together as he shook his head.  “It’s all right, Cora.  Doc said things are bruised in your throat.  Don’t force it.”

     Joshua appeared behind Jacob’s shoulder.  His eyes were warm as he looked at her with a little wave.  His face was swollen and cut and bruised badly.  If he looked like that, she was sure she looked similar.  

     “Hello, lovely,”  he whispered.  “I’ll let you have your fella, hmmm?”

     She felt the corner of her mouth tug.  She grimaced as she tried to move, to create space.  Jacob tried to stop her, but  she frowned.  Cora continued to slide and rock until she was on her side and there was enough room for Jacob to lay down next to her, belly to belly.

     “Oh, Finch,”  he sighed, brushing back her hair.  “Are you sure?”

     She tapped against the pillow.  He smiled as he carefully lay next to her.  

     “You’re probably wondering where you are.  You’re in the hospital.  You’ve been here for two days.  You scared the shit out of me, baby.  I’m so glad you’re awake.”

     He was careful in where he set his fingers, where he touched and brushed against her.  However, each touch was full of light and love just for her.  Cora stared into his face, searching for what he saw in her in the moment.  There was only concern and honest joy.  He whispered against her, telling her about how Rosemary had stayed through the nights with him.  He had the boys at the house, sleeping in the parlor after too much sweets and hot cocoa each night.  Sam was already honed in on educating Matthew about auto engines and Jon about actual engineering.  It had been two days that she had lost.  Two days that she had slept.  She managed to ask about Joshua and Jacob smiled.

     “You find a scrap of voice and you ask about him?”  he teased, brushing his thumb across her bottom lip.  

     Broken fingers.  Fractured right arm.  Left arm was dislocated.  Four broken ribs.  Stabbed in the thigh and left arm.  She wanted to weep.  Joshua had placed himself before her as a sacrifice.  Jacob’s voice warbled as he whispered his love for her.  His fear for her.  His regret that he hadn’t been fifteen minutes earlier.  

     The next time she awoke, she was in her own bed, in her own home.  She remembered being wheeled out of the hospital and Jacob helping her into the Kissel.  She could recall Matthew grabbing Georgie’s collar and holding him back when she caught her toe as they moved through the front door.  She could remember her mother telling Jacob to take her into the bedroom and how his cheeks warmed as he helped her sit down on her bed.  When she stirred, she could hear the boys swarming around the house, and the base of Jacob’s voice calling to Matthew from the kitchen.  

      “He slept on the sofa last night,”  Rosemary whispered as she was buttoning up her dress.  Cora frowned, unsure of if her mother disapproved.  The woman smiled softly as she was reaching for her brush.  “He stayed with you the whole time.  By the time we got you here, he was completely exhausted.  He sat down and was asleep in moments.  I dared not wake him, and neither did the boys.”

      She smiled as her chin dipped.  The idea that he would not be far from her made her heart skip a bit.  Rosemary twisted her hair up into her typical thick bun before moving towards her with the brush.  She grimaced as her mother started on some of the blood matter in her hair.

     “Tell you what, I’ll get the boys through breakfast, then I’ll run you a bath,”  she said with a gentle squeeze on her shoulder.  

     “Thank you, Mama,”  she whispered through the fire that still burned in her throat.  

     “Still pretty raw,”  Rosemary remarked.  “I’ll send Jacob out for some honey.  It will help your throat and we can put that on the …  on the …”

     “Cuts, Mama,”  she answered, hurting over the struggle that her mother allowed herself to show.  “I’m sure he would be happy to.”

      Rosemary continued to brush through the thick hair, her fingers holding firm to each section.  “I do not expect you to understand fully, Cora.  To have one daughter harmed by my choices, only to have a second fall prey to the same hands…”

      Cora stopped her mother’s hands, looking up into her face.  She appeared old and young at the same time.  The woman had aged considerably since the loss of her husband, but all the more so in the past weeks after the plight of her daughters.  

     “I can send you and the boys to Junie if you wish,”  she whispered, enclosing her mother’s hand with her own.

     “I won’t go until my whole family can,”  Rosemary answered, her blue eyes sharp with care.  “And I don’t just mean you and the boys, Cora.”

     Her chin dipped at how her mother had brought back her own words, but tailored it to her own fashion.  “Thank you, Mama.”

     “You just sit back and rest.  I’ll have one of the boys bring you a plate,”  she said as she tied the thick hair back in a simple plait.

     She felt like a stranger in her skin.  Slipping underneath the blanket once more, Cora stayed up, sitting against the headboard, her hands quiet in her lap as her eyes drifted closed.  Her whole body still ached.  The wounds pulsed.  Not quite as bad as when they were fresh, but they throbbed in a way as if they were calling out to her attacker like he could hear the pain they still caused.  She focused on bringing breath in and pushing it back out as her ears took in the sounds of breakfast beyond the door.  Jacob’s voice wove in between Matthew’s and Jon’s with Georgie’s trill over top in excited bursts.  She sighed.  Jacob sitting at the table with their children trickled through her thoughts.  The smile that would grace the man’s face would incinerate the room in joy.  She felt herself drift upon that hope, her mind focusing on each detail in dreamlike quality as her breathing evened out and tugged her into the stillness of her heart's desire.

     The warmth of him drew her from her slumber before his touch against the ridge of her cheek.  Sleepily, she opened her eyes as she leaned into his touch.

     “Hey, Finch,”  he whispered.

     She realized the house was silent.  Her brows pinched as she sat up.  “Where is everyone?”  

     “Rosemary needed to get to work, the boys left for school,”  he said, trailing his fingers down her bare arm.  “You fell asleep and your mother did not want to wake you.  I volunteered to stay until after lunch.”

     Her gut began to sink as she continued to wake.  “She was going to run me a bath.”

     “I can do that, although I told your mother that Molly could help you,”  he smiled, his eyes soft with care.  “In fact, I don’t think it would be good to miss getting those cuts cleaned.”

     He stood and disappeared for a few moments.  She could hear the tap clunk on and the water hit the bottom of the enameled tub.  Jacob returned with a towel and a sleepy grin.  He helped to get her night dress off and covered her lean frame in the towel.  Into the tub and he knelt down beside it, keeping his fingertips at the water to make sure it stayed the right temperature.  He helped to take the linen bandage off her side, a near inaudible hiss escaping him at the sight of the bruising, puncture, and gash that marred her ribs.  

     Cora reached out to him, her fingers sinking into his hair as he rested his forehead against the rim of the tub.  “Jacob?”

     “I’m sorry I wasn’t there, Finch,”  he whispered.  “I’d give anything for your body to not know violence.”

      When he looked at her, the emotion that was etched in his features stirred her, strengthened her.  He moved around her, washing her hair and limbs and body as if he loved each piece, each perfect and each flawed morsel of her.  He dried her and redressed her wounds before following her back to her room to help her dress.  

     “Rosemary left you some biscuits and jam.  Does that sound good?”  he asked as she finished buttoning up.

     When she nodded, he kissed her cheek before leading her out to the dining table.  He was talking about nothing important as he rummaged around the kitchen.  Cora just listened to his tone, the rumble of his words as they escaped him.  The vibration of him washed over, comforting, vanquishing the harm within and replaced it with a softness that was only for him.  She watched as he finally settled down next to her.  He reached for her, touching her cheek with the tip of his finger.

     “I’m glad I picked you,”  she whispered.  The sight of the joy in his eyes made her smile wider.  “I’m so glad you picked me.”

     He leaned forward, kissing her forehead.  “Always, Finch.  You’re my always.”

Yeah.  That just happened.  I hope you stayed with me through this chapter.  Like I said at the top, we only have two more chapters until the end of Act II.  Now that I said that, I guess I should say that there’s 25 total chapters and an epilogue.    So, we have a lot of story left, and much of that is going to be rough.  Be aware the violence only amps up as our characters hope to survive leaving Kingsford.

I do have a tag list - you can find it here

@lvnterninthenight @doodle417 @luverleaver @jakesgrapejuice @fictional-duchess @whitesuitjake @milkgemini @positivegvfthings @songbirds-sweet @streamingcolors-gvf @gretavanbitches @samsurfgreenbass @gardensgatedaisy @babyhoneygvfarchive @myownparadise96 @josh-iamyour-mama @starcatchercarol @loveisonaroll @jakesstarlight @reesetrippingthelight @builtby-gvf @ignite-my-fire @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @wetkleenex-gvf @gold-mines-melting @starsasone @puzzle-gvf @mysticalstarcatcher @montenegroisr @takenbythemadness @way-to-go-lad @cal-a-bungaa @lightmylove-gvf @thewritingbeforesunrise @leftjudgeempathsuitcase @brokenbells11 @imborrowedshesblue @vanfleeter @sammysvanfeet @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @jaketlove @redsierra1960 @gvfmarge @becinabubblegvf @wildbluesorbit @sinarainbows

#greta van fleet #gvf #jake gvf #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #josh gvf #sammy gvf #sam gvf #daniel gvf #danny gvf #greta van fleet fanfic #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet fanfic au #greta van fleet au fic #greta van fleet x ocs #bootleggers and wildflowers

[bookaestheticsbybern]

The Camorra Chronicles

[Cora Reilly]

------------------------------------

Falcone Brothers - Las Vegas

#1 | Twisted Loyalties - Fabiano & Leona ⭐️⭐️⭐️

"She’s seen me at my worst, and she’s still here.”

#2 | Twisted Emotions - Nino & Kiara ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

“Try to scare her as little as possible.”

“I can be pleasant and gentlemanly if I try,” he said.

Fabiano laughed. “Sorry, Remo, but that’s the best joke I heard in a while.”

...

“Before you, there was calm. There was order and logic.”

I remembered the beginning of his song, that perfect composition. “And now?” I let out a hoarse exhale.

“Now,” he growled and his expression twisted, “now there’s chaos.”

#3 | Twisted Pride - Remo & Serafina ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

“I’m fairly sure God designed your body to drive men into insanity,” Remo said darkly.

Stifling the excited thrill Remo’s words sent through me, I retorted, “You believe in God?”

“No. I don’t. But looking at you, I could turn into a believer.”

#4 | Twisted Bonds - Nino & Kiara ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️.5

Remo touched my shoulder looking from the baby up to my face. “You are going home and talking to Kiara.”

#5 | Twisted Hearts - Savio & Gemma ⭐️⭐️⭐️

He became still. “You’re asking me to cancel your promise to my brother?”

I merely nodded. “Then he’ll be free to do as he pleases, and I can find someone who really wants to marry me.”

#6 | Twisted Cravings - Adamo & Dinara ⭐️⭐️⭐️.5

“The role of Ken and Barbie in the family are already taken so we had to settle for the emo couple,” I shot back before I could think it through.

-------------------------------------------------

#Camorra Chronicles #cora reilly #Twisted Loyalties #Twisted Emotions #Twisted Pride #Twisted Bonds #Twisted Hearts #Twisted Cravings #Falcone #Remo Falcone #Serafina #nino falcone #kiara #savio falcone #gemma #adamo falcone #dinara #mafia romance #something spicy #book aesthetic #enemies to lovers #arranged marriage #found family #new adult #las vegas #Spotify

[ohmightydevviepuu]

imperfect boys. perfect ploys. (this is a song about tragedy) [2/6]

“My ‘story’ is that I left a fucked-up situation and it kind of fucked me up,” he’d said.  But it was the way he’d said it, like it hadn’t broken him.  Like it was just a fact. But Emma’s life was a story, too.  A fucked-up situation that had kind of fucked her up.  She wasn’t that kid anymore.  Confidence could be learned.  And maybe—maybe—she wasn’t broken, either. Not if she picked up the pieces.  Not if she told herself a new story.  About who she was.  About what she wanted.  Roots, family, friends, a sense of the familiar—these did not have to be fairy tales. “You owe it to yourself,” Mary Margaret said. “Happy endings always start with hope.”

–

S3 post-neverland canon divergence. 20k of no-curse renaissance.

read it on AO3

to @wistfulcynic and @thisonesatellite who sat with me while we daydreamed on a hilltop in cornwall on the summer-iest summer day england has ever seen. it took me eight months but i got there in the end.

thank you to @shireness-says for time and feedback and kindness to the IAS @spartanguard @optomisticgirl @idoltina @initiala @thejollyroger-writer @phiralovesloki for always giving me a cheer when i needed it

–

four. 'wouldn't you like to know?'

He watched her recitation with a kind of morbid fascination:  Mother, sheriff, bail bonds, True Love.  Savior.  Her parents hovered—eager, encouraging, and more than a bit alarming.  Regina was sullen and Killian stayed silent because he had already won the only battle he would win today; for now, at least there would be no magic.

Emma had agreed with him.

So had the prince.

Her parents’ eagerness, though, it rankled him in a way he could not quite pinpoint.  “If this is a game, that means you can win,” Snow White had said.  True enough, in its fashion, but Pan’s response to such a feat would merely be to change the rules.  Were they really so naive?  Whatever the Charmings had faced against the Evil Queen and even Cora was merely a prelude to what Pan could dish out and Killian was unfortunate enough to know this from experience.

A woman, a mother, the product of True Love, a savior.  But she’d left off the most salient bit.  Killian knew it and Pan would have, too.  It was probably why he’d sought her out in the forest and set this particular game in motion.

Emma Swan had the Look.

Which meant that would be the key to unlocking her map.  He wondered if Emma knew that yet.

Her parents certainly did not.  Pan was a bastard, but he wasn’t wrong, was he?  Here she was, surrounded by family, but still holding them aside.  

Killian followed them into the jungle anyway.  Followed her, really.  Emma had done him the courtesy of respecting his experience and he would return the favor and follow her lead, even as it took them deeper into the darkness.  Even as it took them into battle.  Sword-to-sword against Felix, he could only shout a single warning—“Watch out for their arrows!  They’re laced with dreamshade!”—as the game shifted, became deadly.  Bad form, indeed.

He saw the arrow out the corner of his eye and he was certain it had grazed the prince, but there was no time, not now, not for that, not with Emma frozen and the battle called off.  Killian chose to believe the prince when he pointed to the hole in his jacket because some things were not to be borne on this island full of nightmares and Emma still had a game to win.

Still, he took himself away from the camp for a few minutes.  Snow White and her daughter needed time for a decades-overdue chat and he needed a moment to get his head straight.  David said he was fine; he would be fine.  Emma was a survivor; she would break the spell on the map.  They would find the boy—Henry— 

“She’s done it!”

Killian ran.  Rather, he ran as much as he could with an armload of wood for the fire.  It was more of a hurried stride.  But he dumped the pile and presented himself.

“The map is working.  We know where Henry is.”  Emma held the map in her outstretched hand and in front of…him.  Like she trusted him.  Like the rules of their game had changed.  Like it was just that easy. 

“Um,” he said.  “We’re here at the southern tip of the isle.  In the middle of the Dark Jungle.  And Pan’s camp”—Killian pointed with his hook—“is due north.”

“That’s where he’s keeping Henry,” Emma said.

“So what are we waiting for?” Regina’s impatience was visible.  Palpable.  And she wasn’t wrong.  But rushing off would be foolish.

“Well,” he said, slowly.  “The terrain is not easy.  There will undoubtedly be some nasty impediments along the way.”

“We should prepare,” David agreed.  “We only made it out of our last encounter because Pan let us.”

Killian looked at Emma and thought that it was rather because Emma had understood her answer, face-to-face with the Lost Boys.  He held the evidence in his hand; either way, she was energized.  Ready to take it on and start all over.

“We need to stop playing his game and make him play ours,” she said, determined.

“And if I disagree?” Regina asked.

“Go ahead, but I think you know our best chance is together.”  The certainty in her answer made him smile.

“Excellent show of patience, love,” he said, the endearment slipping out as the group dispersed.  “That is how you defeat a nasty little boy.”  

“I hope so,” she said.  

He offered her his flask, considering.  

“Is rum your solution to everything?”  But she was smiling as she said it, and took a sip.

“It certainly doesn’t hurt,” he said.  It was certainly easier not to think too hard—or too much—and certainly preferable to share it with Emma Swan than to drink it alone. “So just who are you, Swan?”

It was a question for himself as much as it was for her, he realized.  Woman, mother, sheriff, savior?

 Survivor.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she said, handing him the flask.

“Perhaps I would,” he said, yet another uncomfortable truth and compounded by the fact that Emma Swan could tell when he was lying.  Which he wasn’t.

Her body went rigid, her eyes wide.  Killian watched her walk away and set his sights on building the fire.  Grateful for the task, and grateful for the rest.  The others needed to sleep.  He needed a break.  Time.  Time to keep an eye on the prince and check for signs of poison.  

Time to think.

They needed an ally.  Someone who knew the island.  They needed to get to the boy.  He watched the others settle themselves, heard the sighs and the shifts and the snores of slumber.   When they woke, he decided, and he had an opportunity, he would tell them about Tink.  They would try the map first, of course.  Emma had paid the price of the magic and they should see where it led them.  Another log, and another glance toward the surrounding woods for signs of Emma’s return. That’s when he heard the voices.

Pan would be displeased, Killian thought.  He would be—unkind.  So Killian stayed.  He sat by the fire and left the rum flask next to him as he waited.  Silent, staring.  He did it because he was curious and because he wanted her to see that she was not the only one chased through the night by the cries, by the demon.  He heard the rustling as she returned.  The rustling, and nothing else, as she sat down next to him—near, but not close—and said nothing.

Neither did he.  This, he thought, was enough.

five. do you believe in fairies?

“Son of a bitch,” Emma growled.  “How is it behind us?”  She turned toward him.  Him.

“You got us lost,” Regina said.  Her fingers flexed.  

Killian swung the lantern around.  “No.  No she didn’t.”  He was so tired.  “It’s the camp—Pan is moving it.”

“If Pan keeps moving the camp—how are we going to find it?  How are we going to find Henry?”  Again Emma’s eyes found his.  “This whole trek has been for nothing?”

“I told you walking was idiotic,” Regina snapped.  “We can use magic—“

“Pan will have shields against magic, I fear,” Killian said, his temper frayed to the breaking point.  “Such an attempt would end in your death—and, more importantly, mine.  Which is why we are walking.”  He said the words slowly, as if to a small child.

“Well then?” Regina gestured expectantly.  “What’s your idea?  How are we going to find it?”

He was never going to get a better opening.  “By using someone he trusts,” Killian said.  “A fairy who lived here when I was about.  She might still be on the island, and she would know how to get us in.  She might even”—happy thought, indeed—“she might even have some pixie dust left.  We could fly in.”

“You mean fairy dust.”

“No,” the prince said.  “Pixie dust.  It’s stronger, like nuclear fairy dust.”

Whatever that meant, it seemed to convince Emma.  “Wait.  A fairy?  Tinker Bell?”

“You know her?”  That would make all of this easier, to be sure— 

“Every kid in the world knows her.”

—ah.  So she was just another story, like the rest of them.  Perms and whatnot.  But Killian thought that—if she was still here—Tink might be persuaded.  It was in her nature—all of those nights they had lain together, to ward off the darkness—the way she had helped him keep an eye on Baelfire.  Smuggling food, bringing back information.  What mattered was that Emma took hold of the idea and led them back onto the trail.

They had not spoken of their shared hours by the fire but he heard the hitch in Emma’s  breath when Regina called him her ‘boyfriend’.  

‘Boyfriend.’  

A strange word for a man who had not been a boy for hundreds of years; however, if it meant that she was inclined to take his counsel and leave him for a torch-bearer he would gladly accept the title.

And when Regina said, “Mark my words, this Tinker Bell will not help us,” she sounded so completely certain and all Killian could do was wonder what Regina had done to Tink and marvel at the vagaries of time and magic. When had Tink come to the island?  He didn’t remember. He couldn’t—not when every night was the same, over and over.  Not unlike the Curse, perhaps, only he was painfully aware of each passing second. The sameness. The horror. 

The feeling of being forever stuck in the worst version of oneself until it was the only reality.

But here and now, Killian followed Emma with his torch.  

A light in the darkness, at least until his temper finally gave way, until Prince-bloody-Charming tripped over himself one time too many, panting as he tried and failed to catch his breath. As if this island had not already left him bleeding—every moment, every breath, every step he’d taken since he’d agreed to take Emma Swan to save her son.

Killian had him up against a wall before he had even realized he was moving.  “I saw what happened to you.”  He grabbed at David’s shirt as if he did not already know what he would see.  

Dreamshade.

Bloody, bollocking—

The spread of the poison, inky black and unmistakable, pointed straight toward the prince’s heart.  “I’m sorry, mate,” Killian said, and was surprised by how much he meant it.

six. the cocunut

It was the way she looked at him.  Taking him in from his boots to his brows as she handed him the coconut.  “Consider it an alternative to the rum,” Emma said.  “If you can open it.”

He raised an eyebrow.  “Of course,” he said.  He had a smile of his own in spite of everything as he waited—a beat, and then another.

“Please?”

“If the lady insists,” he said with a flourish, piercing into the rind and handing it back to her.  She took it, took a sip.  Moved to sit down and turned back to look at him, and there was that expression again.  Expectation and invitation.

If the lady insists.

He threw his coat over the log for a backrest and watched her get comfortable.  She said nothing else.  Neither did he.  They watched the camp quiet and waited, waited for the whispers from Regina and from Tink to die down, to fade away.

“What do you think Regina did to her?” Emma asked.

Killian laughed, a sound that startled him.  Loud and full and dimming out, however briefly, the cries in the night.  She smiled—a small smile, a cautious smile—as she took another sip from the fruit.  It was when he looked away, his eyes sweeping the camp, that he heard the grunt of pain as Prince Charming shifted in his sleep.  “You were brilliant today,” Killian said, meaning it.  Inviting Tink to be a part of something—Emma Swan’s true superpower.  

He had been a fool to ignore it.  To turn his back on it.  And she shared it with him anyway, offering protection from the cries of the Lost and the aches of past pain.  Tink had seen it, of course.  The way she had looked at him—and at Emma—and then back at Killian.  Not an invitation.  A recognition.  She’d smiled.  

“Thank you,” Emma said.  They were quiet together for a long time after that, their tiny fire a feeble bulwark against the darkness of the nights and of his thoughts.

If only it helped.

As the others stirred, rising from their attempts at slumber, David’s face was pale and drawn.  There was a tremor as he stood.  Noble David.  Suffering David.

Dying David.

“Pointy sticks equals death.”  Well, Dave, good riddance.

There was, however, a more immediate issue.  Tink was painfully accurate in her assessment regarding their escape plan.  Pretty words from Prince Charming—“this family always finds a way”—would not secure their return passage no matter how loudly enough he shouted.  He could not will the words into truth with the power of his belief.

Emma seemed to agree.

“Tink’s right,” Emma said.  “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, you never break in somewhere unless you know the way out.”

The lesson this island—Pan—had taught all of them, and he had taught to Bae.  He watched her as she said it.  Her eyes.  “She just lost Neal,” Snow White had said. 

They both had.

“So no one’s ever left this island without Pan’s permission?”

Neal.  Neal had gotten off this island.  

He looked at Emma.  “One man.  Her partner in crime—Neal.”  Killian lit the lantern and turned to go without another word.  He had not moved three paces before Emma fell into step behind him.

It wasn’t a long walk, as best he could reckon.  Tink had told him where the cave was; he knew where he was going.  Tink had helped Bae to find it in the first place, after he’d left the Jolly Roger.  After Killian had left him to Pan’s mercies.

Not a long walk but too long for Killian’s state of mind, and not fast enough for Prince-bloody-Charming.  The man shouldered him out of the way as they pulled the hidden entrance open, panting and gasping with every movement.

“How much longer do you think you can keep up this charade?”

“Why do you care?”

He didn’t.  He didn’t.

“Hook!”  Emma’s voice broke through.  Killian turned.  He followed the sound into the cave, reaching into his pocket for his flint.  “What is this—oh.  Neal—he lived here?”

“Aye.”  He put down the flint and glared at the prince, who was smugly snapping shut the lid of his lighting device.  “Bae spent some time in Neverland as a boy.  This was—his home.”  The light from the wall torch flared and Killian needed to catch his breath.  He’d passed along bits and bobs to Tink, intending them for Bae:  Chalk and other things an inventive lad could use for tools and writing implements and the like.  But she had never told him about the cave walls full of drawings—full of stories—the wheel of the Jolly Roger scraped into the rocks of Neverland.  “Anything important?” he asked, turning away from the drawings.

“I didn’t know he liked drawing,” Emma said.  She was quiet as her eyes and her torch scanned the walls. 

“He got it from his mother,” Killian whispered.  

“Oh.”  Emma swallowed.  “So—you knew him pretty well?”

“We spent some time together.”  Their eyes met, but she was the one who looked away.  “Alright, Swan?”

“Yeah.”  She sniffed.  “Yeah, it’s like you said—just a bunch of pictures.  What’s over there?”  

“Plates, bowls—things he must have made for himself while he was here.”  Snow White stood up. She held a small, round object.  “And a tiny…colander?”

He figured it out the same time Emma did, reaching for the snuff to put out the wall light as the prince pulled out his lighting device.  The wick of the tiny candle glowed until Emma covered it and gasped.  It was breathtaking. 

It was a map.

But the longer he looked at the map, the more something became clear—it was not a depiction of the stars and asterisms native to Neverland.  It was a jumble, the stars grouped in patterns that were almost, but not quite, depictions of the asterisms native to Neverland.

Bae had loved to study the night sky, and he was an apt pupil.  Unfortunately, celestial navigation was not all that he had learned during his time on the Jolly Roger.

The map was encoded.

And that meant—

“The only person who can read this map is—“

“Dead,” Emma finished.  “The only person who can read this map is dead.”

Killian watched her run out of the cave.  Watched her parents follow her.  The candlelit star map twinkled above him for another minute before he blew the candle out and left.  The sounds enveloped him:  The rush of air, the roaring in his ears.  Snow White and Prince Charming, arguing.

Killian scrubbed his hand down his face and turned to re-enter the cave.  He wasn’t looking.  He wasn’t seeing, or else he would have side-stepped.  Gone another way.  Anything else, because the look on her face when he saw Emma Swan crying was bloody murder.  Nothing for it but to follow her back in, determined as she was to find something new among the drawings.  Something they could use—something that would help.  Something that wasn’t a reckoning of the time that did not exist on this island, not anymore, but back then when there had still been daylight—

“Neal stopped counting,” she said, looking at him.  The tears weren’t dry, not yet, but they were the two that had known Bae and they were the two who knew what the marks meant.  “He lost hope, and he stopped counting, and that’s exactly what Pan said would happen to Henry—“

“We’re gonna rescue him,” the prince said.

“Henry doesn’t know that,” Emma snapped.  “We need to get him a message.  We need to start being clever.”

Snow was the one who spoke up, moving out of the cave without waiting for them to follow.  Without waiting for Killian and Emma to catch her up.  Just long enough for Killian to say, “I too know what feels like.  To lose hope.”

It was the most honest he had been in too many years to count but when she looked at him all she said was, “I’m not in the mood.”  She pushed him away, walking deliberately around him and leaving him alone and surrounded by the evidence of one of his biggest mistakes and biggest regrets.

Or—not exactly alone.  Because there was David, waiting.  Watching.

If the prince wanted to die, that was his choice, wasn’t it?

Nothing Killian could do about it.  Emma would lose a parent either way—maybe two, for he had a suspicion that Snow White would not leave her Charming even if the cost of that was Emma.  She would be orphaned all over again. 

Prince-bloody-Charming.  Who understood nothing and yet was so sure he was right. 

Noble.  Determined.  Stubborn.  Principled.

And such an easy mark.

Yet another way the prince was so very like Liam.

#cs fic #canon divergence #season 3a #no curse renaissance

[kazenomegaminowanpisu]

||Stay with me||

Warning: SFW, slight fluff, Having a nightmare,(some mistakes so please ignore it)

Feat: law x fem reader

—It was in the middle of the night. When you felt the thirsty and you stood up and went into the kitchen to drink some water.

—but you didn't notice that someone was there with you. "Why Are you still awake?" A familiar voice spoke up behind you. You turn your head to see law standing there holding a candle.

—"oh law, I just come down here cause I need to drink some water" you said putting down the glass of water on your side.

—You felt something was up. As he sat on the chair next to you. "you ok law?" Law took off his hat and place it on the table. "I just" he stutter. His voice was trembling.

—You approach him and asked him what's going on. "I had a nightmare about the little me" you nodded as listen on his stories. "I-i can't move, I saw cora-san get killed by doflamingo" he said trying to stop his feelings into bursting up.

—you hold his cold hands. "past is past law" you cupped his cheeks. "you need to move on" law look at you. "but" you hug him before he could say anything again. "Stay with me please" he said hugging you tight.

—"I will" you said pressing a kiss on his forehead.

—after that both of you stayed in one room. And you didn't leave Law's side until he falls asleep. "I won't let anything bad happen to you love" you said hugging him tightly.

#One piece canons #one piece x reader #One piece imagines #law x reader #law x y/n #law x s/o #law x fem reader #law imagines #kazenomegaminowanpisu #one piece #hannaemeraldwhitedragon #writing #anime #one piece canons #one piece x s/o

[thewayofthemandalorian]

P! for the favourite songs ask 🤗

Thanks Cora! 🥰

[unscharf-an-den-raendern]

I was tagged by @get-the-cheese-to-sickbay thank you :)

Pick a song for each letter of your URL, and then tag that many people!

U - Und du? (Vol. II) - Drangsal

N - Not In Love - Crystal Castles feat. Robert Smith

S - Steven Seagull - Frittenbude vs We Are Enfant Terrible

C - Calabi-Yau - I Cani

H - He-Man - Bondage Fairies

A - Alles brennt - TEMMIS

R - Rolling Girl - wowaka

F - fallen - GAST

A - A bien regarder ; Rachida - Sexy Sushi

N - Nur ein Wort - Wir Sind Helden

D - darkhearts - GEISTHA

E - Elegance & You - Korine

N - Nur zu weit - Traumatin

R - Rebellion (Lies) - Arcade Fire

A - Amsterdam (Liebe hat total versagt) - Cora

E - Einfach sein - Leuchtstoff

N - Nichts In Der Welt - Die Ärzte

D - Der Weg Zu Zweit - Grauzone

E - Es geht dir gut - Mia Morgan

R - Ruby Light & Dark - Broilers

N - Night In June - Linear Movement

As usual, I tag everyone who wants to do this

#tag

[quinloki]

Birthday Request Event

"It's my birthday and I'll write what I want to \o/"

Gift Details ♥ Reader: transmasc!Reader (he/him pronouns) Character: Donquixote Rosinante Kink: #1 Merinthophilia #3 Spanking Prompt: Dealer's Choice #3 "Sit on my face." Gift Giver: @dotdotdotdotsometingidk

Summary: Your relationship with Rosinante is still in the "trying new things" phase, and the gentle giant is helping to ease you into certain pleasures.

Content Notes: Transmasc can present a LOT of different ways - this story's reader has not had bottom surgery. Vaginal fingering, vaginal oral, spanking, bondage, forced orgasm, soft dom Rosi, ends a little suddenly otherwise it was about to become my newest multi-chapter story.

This birthday party is 18+, consensual unless explicitly stated otherwise, and BYOB

“Are you sure?” You ask again, taking off your top and tossing it into the corner.

“It should be me asking if you’re sure,” Rosi admits, giving you a bit of a sheepish look. “It won’t make you uncomfortable?”

“Awww, that’s sweet.” You say, realization dawning. “I’m not less of a guy without a dick, love.” You assure him, taking his face in your hands – a feat you can only manage because he’s sitting on the edge of the bed. “If I wanted to be a different kind of man, I’d work on having surgery. You love me as I am, right?”

“Yes, I do.” Rosi answers, face turning pink.

“I love me as I am too.” You assure him, leaning close and kissing him softly.

Rosinante returns the sweet smooches, and the two of you quietly pull the last few pieces of clothing away from on another. Rosi’s lips and hands travel over your body, nearly engulfing you with soft groping hands and a hungry mouth.

The rope appears in his hand, almost like magic as he gently folds your arms behind your back, threading through your fingers and around your wrists and forearms. The soft kisses continued, pulling heavier sounds and trembling moans from you before the ropes had even been pulled taut.

“My sweet boy does like his rope, doesn’t he?” Rosi muses and you nod as he pulls the ropes snug with a deft hand as he brings them around to the front of you. Crossing them against your chest, and wrapping them around your upper arms before turning you around and bringing it all together in the middle of your back.

His hands wander over your skin again, though they hadn’t really stopped, soft kisses pressing against your shoulder. You adjust your stance, opening your legs as long, large fingers slip down your lower belly. Needy sounds are already falling from your lips, and you’re half blissed out just from being tied up a little.

“Your sounds are as delicious as the rest of you,” he purrs, sucking harshly on your neck and filling the room with a needy growl from you as his hand moves away from your untouched slit. “I’d leave you bound all the time, just to hear you whimper like this.”

“It’s not… not just the ropes,” you gasp, as he turns you to face him. “You – you keep touching me I can’t… take it.”

“Mmm?” He hums as he leans in, leaving kisses and nips along your shoulders and collarbone. “But listen to you, you’re taking it all quite well.”

“Pl-please, relief – give me relief.” You beg, lifting your leg this time and resting your knee on his thigh. “Please, Rosi – my Cora-san – I’m already so close.”

“If you want relief,” he says softly, licking your neck and nipping at your ear as he lifts your other leg onto his thigh. “You’re going to have to sit on my face like a good little doll.”

You make a strangled sound, you want relief, but even with as big as Rosinante is, you’re nervous about sitting on his face. It seems dangerous.

“The only thing that will grace that wet slit of yours is my tongue.” He leans in close, fingers wandering over your body easily. “And the only way to urge my tongue out of my mouth, is if you… sit… on… my… face.” Rosi punctuates each steady word by nipping at your skin, leaving light toothy marks and pulling strangled cries from your lips.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t that dangerous.

“Then… please…” You beg, scooting yourself as close to him as you can, your eyes shifting from his eyes to his lips as he steadies you in his lap. “Please let me sit on your face, Rosi.”

“Certainly, my sweet.” He grabs you by the waist, lifting you up easily as he leans back and sets you down slowly onto his face. One large hand is against your clavicle, thumb and fingers curling gently against your jaw and neck, supporting you as he leans you forward a little.

On your own, especially with your hands bound behind your back, you’d be off balance and unable to hold yourself up, but he doesn’t let you worry. You open your legs wider, bringing your hips down against his face until you feel his smiling lips against your skin.

A large hand rests against your lower back, trapping you in place. In one motion he opens his mouth and pushes down on your back, making your legs spread wider as his tongue dives into your soaking pussy. Your toes curl and your legs twitch as the sudden pleasure nearly rips a scream from your throat.

“Silent,” he says softly, though it’s not directed at you. You know the command for what it is and aren’t surprised when the large hand lands heavy on your ass, cracking sharply inside the sound-stopping dome.

You writhe, arms twisting against the ropes as his tongue teases your clit, the sharp crack of a second blow causing your eyes to roll back in your head a little as pleasure drips from your entire body. The sharp sting of the well-place strikes against your ass, turn into a throb that digs into your body and makes everything feel better.

He shifts you a little, his tongue diving deep inside you as another crack lands on your ass. Your feet and legs seemed determined to find some kind of purchase, to squirm you away from the pleasure that has you trapped, but even if Rosinante was closer to you in height, you wouldn’t be able to get away.

He leans you forward again, landing a sharp slap on your ass again and causing you to yelp. Your ass cheeks are hot and red, and the tingle of it is traveling through your thighs and down your legs. As he begins to practically suckle your clit, two of his fingers push into your cunt, filling you full and teasing deep inside of you, his thumb running over your stinging skin softly.

You couldn’t beg, you couldn’t form words of any real content. All you could do was babble Rosinante’s name in a dozen different ways as you came, squirming against his hands, twitching powerlessly against his tongue, only for him to continue. The gentle younger brother delighted in your sounds, and showed no mercy as he enjoyed them, forcing one orgasm into another as your gushing pleasure leaked down his chin.

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#birthday request event #one piece drabble #reader insert #x reader #donquixote rosinante #donquixote corazon #...somethingidk - It took me a moment to be in a good place to get to this one #It's a little nearer and dearer to my heart than my usual reader style so thank you thank you VERY much for helping me break the seal. #Gods I really just got into it too. Heck. #idk if listening to the Desperado soundtrack helped or hurt this time XD ♥ #Manifold De Amour - whew. what a mood setter.