#first gifs on my new tablet so lemme know if there's anything wrong with the speed or the colouring looks whacky!!

[itwasmagic]

ENDLESS SWAN QUEEN GIFS: 67/∞ » you’re sure you don’t want me to take the place apart? reblogs are encouraged!

[oh-for-fic-sake]

Superman's Dishcloth

A small cute headcannon thats been sitting on my tablet?

Summary: some people use pick up lines to get a womans number, henry uses a crochet lesson.

Warnings: Fluff?

Your fingers twisted the yarn around the hook automatically looping and pulling untill you made another double crochet stitch that the pattern required.

To be honest you wasnt paying that much attention as you worked your project, which was stupid really because you were making a new pattern, a bobble popcorn style head band.

You couldnt concentrate for two reasons

One. You were on a goddamned plane soaring across the Atlantic ocean. And if things went tits up you cant swim.

And two? You were seated next to none oher then mr henry cavill himself.

Not that you made a thing about it or even dared to look at him.

He he was watching you, eyes frowning as your fingers twisted the yarn into an intricate looking yet fairly simple pattern.

Youhad to stifle a laugh as his fingers twitched tryig to follow the moves and figure out what you were doing.

You growled missing count again. One, two, three three, skip three. A crochet, half double crochet, two double crochet in one stitch then skip three stitches and repeat untill the end.

Normally youd have no problems but your audience was putting you off.

You dropped the project in your lap as you miscounted again and realised you had to undo the last twelve stitches otherwise you'd be a set out on the end.

You closed your eyes grunting before slipping the hook out and began to tug the working yarn slowly before pinching it and slipping the hook into the loop catching it before it all unraveled.

"Why'd you undo it?" You jumped a little as the huge man beside you spoke up after watching you quietly since take off.

"Huh?... oh i misscounted i skipped four instead of three so it'd be out of line on the end and curl round..."

"How'd you know?" He frowned now leaning over even more curious then before.

You chewed your lip trying not to freak out as he peered over your little project.

"Err well i just counted the stiches i had left on the row, see i was up to here and there was five left not six, so i pulled it taught to spot the odd one out" you explained pulling more yarn through so you could point out the stitches to him with the hook.

"It looks complicated, you twist it so many times?" He said as your fingers began moving once more creating the repetitive pattern.

"Yeah... its not too difficult, Im doing a few different stitches is all, once you know a single crochet stitch and a chain stitch your good to go" You muttered with a smile.

"I doubt its that simple" he replied trying to keep up with watching your fingers guiding the hook jthought the piece making the fabric grow.

"It really is, here you see the little v on top?" You said slowing deciding to show him just how simple it was.

"Yeah?" He hummed quietly watching keenly.

"Thats the row before, so you slip your hook under both strands like this and loop your yarn over then pull through under that v so you have one loop on your hook" you said moving slowly and loosened the stitch with a light wiggle so he could see properly.

"Then loop the yarn over again so you have two loops, and pull the second one through the first... and thats a single crochet stitch" You explained showing him slowly.

"So you make lots of tiny loops and pull them through one another and it some how becomes fabric?" He asked fascinated by it, watching as you began to work on the next stitch.

"Yeah pretty much"

"But that one you pulled the wool over before you did anything at all?" You paused impressed he had noticed the slight difference... he had been watchkn that closely?

"So that was a half double, when you do a half double or double you yarn over first, then you just keep yarning over and pulling through until your left with one loop on the hook" you tried explaining as simply as you could.

"... it still sounds hard" he uttered still focusing on your hands that had been creating stitches.

"Honestly its not, i taught myself in about an hour and a half? Here try it? I've got extra yarn in my carry on if you want to give it a go?" You offered and instantly flushed you did not just offer to teach superman how to crochet like a fucking granny!

Before you could take it back and apologise he beamed.

"Really? That would be fun, i've never tried anything like this before" he said eagerly.

"Err yeah sure lemme just get you started, i'll give you a 5 hook... here" you said surprized digging about pulling the small ergonomic crochet hook out and some mustard yellow yarn.

"So you start with a slipknot... and then a few chain stitches" you began guiding him through it slowly teaching him the steps.

"So do you always crochet on long flights?" He asked pokeing his tongue out as he tried concentrating on the stitches he was doing.

"Yeah, im not good with confined spaces... especially confide spaces that are a good few miles in the air over the open ocean" you chuckled nervously chaining a stitch then turning begining your next row.

"Honestly im not either, usually i have kal- my dog but... not this time... this is good though, its helping take my mind off it thank you" he said sincerly.

"Dont mention it"

"Oh... i think ive done it wrong?" He said andnheld it out to you, you prodded it and to be honest you were impressed, it was neat, not a dropped stitch in sight... just a few loose stitches here and there, but he was finding a good tension.

"No, thats not wrong... just your tension thats all it comes with practice" you said handing it back to him.

"Tension?" He said making you pause. Oh yeah, he wouldnt knpw what that is yet.

"Yeah, how tight you hold the yarn and hook determies how tight your stitches are... mines pretty bad, i have to always use a size bigger hook" you expalined simply

"Really?"

"Yep, i do it too tight- even snapped a metal hook in my hand before" you chuckled remebering the way the hook had just... snapped mid project.

"Wow that sounds painfull?" He huffed eeingnyour hand curiously as if expecting you to snap a hook then and there.

"Yeah, i will admit i was frustrated with the project so it probably didnt help" you chuckled sheepishly.

"Frustrated? Was it complicated like that one?" He asked nodding to your growing head band.

"No, i kept loosing count on a pattern of 78 stitches" you said trying to wave it off but in actual fact that project had been murder.

"So what are you making?" He finally asked eyeingnyour work that had grown wider.

"A little headband, and hopefully i will widen it at the ears to keep em warm" you giggled wrapping it around pinchingnthe ends together proudly presenting it to him.

He grinned and looked down at his little square fiddling with it.

"And im making a... mess?" He laughed holding up the uneven square cheeks tinted pink when you giggled again.

"... Dishcloth?" You offered prodding it gently.

"Perfect, im making a dishcloth!" He bellowed nodding proud of his new diy dish cloth.

"I'm henry by the way. But from the way you were shaking in your seat im guessing you knew?" He finally introduced himself holding out a hand.

You smiled shyly and took it shakingnhands trying not to fawn over how huge hot and soft the palm was.

"Yeah... sorry i was nervous and you probably dont want to be bugged. Im y/n" you tried explaining nervously but he chuckled.

"I wouldnt mind being bugged by such a cutie~" he uttered quietly smirking at you tipping his head down a little too make sure you heard him despite his voice being quiet.

"Oh stop it" you flushed quickly looking down at your headband noticing your stitches werent as even as they could have been, but it couldnt be helped you had handsome distraction.

A very distracting handsome distraction.

"Its true. Besides i think it was me bugging you... and i have managed to plunder through your wool" he grinned sheepishly holding up his little dishcloth.

"Its fine, it not expensive, this is left over yarn from other projects" you waved him off. It was true ou had lots of odd ends and half skeins of woll from other projects.

"Well still i appreciate it, i hate flying" he said sincerly.

"Well now you have something to practice. Youll leave the plane with a new skill to stick on your cv" you added with a grin nudging him playfully.

"Indeed... And perhaps i can leave the p,ane with err...maybe your number to? You know to replace the wool and erm swap err instructions?" He said nervously jumbling his words.

You paused and looked at him shocked blinking. Did he just?

You blinked again watching as his face grew red and he chuckled nerously plucking at the woll on his dishcloth.

"Well i suppose every student needs to be able to contact theor teacher~ and these instructions are called patterns" you smiled to him nodding slowly.

"Right right i knew that of course they're patterns" he chuckled grinning ear to ear relived you hadnt turned him down.

"Well we have a good few hours, perhaps a few more lessons for my little student?" You teased picking up the pattern to show him some of the abbreviations. Mostly to try and concentrate on somthing other then the fact superman had just asked for your number... and was taking crochet lessons.

"Of course" he said excited eyes glittering with glee whilst looking at the small page.

[1zashreena1]

Trading Trauma -13

18+, m/f, technically OCxDiego Jimenez [Power]

Summary:  They share the rough stuff while trying to figure out how to be gentle with each other. And an antagonist?

WARNINGS: Ridiculous descriptions and ‘the code is more like guidelines’ outlook on grammar. Is it OOC if the character was given essentially zero development in canon???

Detailed discussion of abuse in all forms- Physical-Mental-Emotional-Verbal*** SERIOSULY HEED THIS WARNING Anxiety attacks, vague hinting at mental-behavioral health disorders, plus size woman+fit man, This one is all feels and 

I Am So Sorry.

A/N:  Princess took on a life of her own and has essentially become an OC. There are infrequent mentions of her description (specifically as plus size) and her actual name in later pieces (its Bicki). She started as self-insert so she looks like me (plus size, white, short, blue eyes, curly hair). If that is not your thing, I totally understand. And do not feel obligated to read this, I will not be offended!

I’m not a fan of “plot” so be aware that most of this series is just meandering through their relationship, angst-fluff-smut whiplash style. But with dick jokes.

TAGLIST: @chelsfic ​ @symbiont13 ​ @nicke0115 ​​ @bunnykjm ​ @rosee-sensuelle ​ @girlpornparadise ​ @mandoplease ​ @heresathreebee ​ @xxsteph-enrixx ​ @jetiikad ​ @joalsglasses ​ @mutantcookiesecrets ​ @demoncatstone ​ @squidlywiddly87 ​ @lockedoutofmyotherblog ​ @poeedamerons ​

I believe gif came from @girlpornparadise​ 

Its a Friday like any other and Bastian picks you up like always. Only, something is wrong. You can tell because Bastian is silent; absolutely, completely, dead silent.

"So," You try from the passenger seat, "What the fuck is going on that you don't want to tell me?" Its raining and everything in New York is shaded in tones of gray. The gray buildings pass by, people in gray coats with gray umbrellas trudge along the sidewalk, even this SUV is gray. It still has new car smell. What happened that he bought a new SUV?

A muscle tics in Bastian's jaw as he tenses under your attention. Pale green eyes dart to you, then back to the road. Finally, Bastian speaks, "Alicia was here today." 

Your jaw drops. "What? Why? Is he okay?" Your immediate concern is Diego, both his physical safety and his mental well-being. Bastian's silence is an obvious negative. After staring at him for an indeterminate amount of time and receiving no further details you go back to the windshield. "We can order food later, just take me to him."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Diego is stationed on the sectional when you arrive, working on his laptop. Bastian places your bag just inside the penthouse then retreats back into the elevator. That's never a good sign.

Diego looks up and smiles, its blindingly gorgeous and your heart stutters. The laptop gets dumped to the side in favor of grabby hands going for your curves. You climb into his lap, knees outside his hips, loop your arms around his neck, and fold him down into your softness. With a huge sigh, Diego melts into you.

"Princess. Missed you." His rumble is soft and quiet against your neck. He wraps you up tighter and squeezes your squishy middle. "Stay. Please." What started as an order ended as a plea in under two words. 

You stroke over his hair, kissing his forehead and nodding gently. "I'm here, baby. Are you okay?" The likelihood of getting a straight answer is slim but you have to ask. You need him to know that you care, that you want to take care of him. 

He nods into your neck and settles further. Apparently this is where I sit now. His breathing is normal, he doesn't flinch or jump wherever you pet him, and his clothing is in place. As far as you can tell, he is physically well. The only thing out of place here is his hidden face.

He is surprisingly cuddly in private, your Murder Panther rather enjoys petting, but he has never hidden from you. Its concerning, especially in conjunction with Bastian's hushed announcement in the car. 

"What do you need me to do?" You keep your voice even and quiet because you're not sure how upset he really is. Broad shoulders shrug under you, he seems almost defeated. You try a different tact and ask, "Okay, when did you last eat?" 

"Dish mornin." Diego mumbles into your skin like a kid. In truth, he is like a large child a lot of the time. He gets easily distracted by activity and is frequently lost in whatever task happens to be most interesting to him at that exact moment. He fidgets minutely under you, a tiny bit of his normal reaction to your presence is evident. 

You turn to smirk into his cheek, "I meant food, but if that's what you need, well, it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make." His deep chuckle shakes your entire body. "Where's my phone? Lemme order dinner before you go after dessert."

Diego pulls your phone out of the back pocket of your jeggings and passes it to you, then replaces it with a huge hand. You laugh but proceed to order from that steakhouse you like in Brooklyn.

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

By the time dinner has been completed Diego is relaxed and loose-limbed, sprawled on his back across your lap in the corner of the sectional. He is still quiet, but if you keep both hands on your tablet a little too long he makes his displeasure known with a growly whine. You’ve been absent-mindedly petting him for some time when you decide to try again.

"So, can I do anything to help you? Listen? Massage? Cuddle? Err, cuddle more intensely?" You don't look at him in an attempt to not make him uncomfortable. 

Diego heaves a sigh and holds your hand flat to his chest. You can feel his heart, its picking up speed and you feel a little guilty. He licks his lips and finally speaks, "Alicia was waiting for me when we came back from a meeting this morning. She has been questioning my books. I suppose she doubts my math." Diego waves a dismissive hand in the air.

You have seen this man complete statistical mathematical analysis in his head, everyone knows his math isn't a problem. 

"Um. First of all, no. Secondly, n-o-o-o." You draw the word out in your sarcasm and Diego snorts with amusement. "Why do you think she was really here?" You ask soberly.

"It is the math. I need to redistribute my surplus. What is that saying? Use it or lose it?" Diego looks up at you from under raised brows, waiting for you to confirm or correct his language. 

That is fucking adorable. Your chest tightens with his easy familiarity with you and his trust that you have his back in all things, even something as small as a possible mistranslation. You nod in confirmation, but also need some clarification. "So, help me understand here, you have a surplus of what? Profit?" 

Diego nods succinctly. "Technically, it is a deficit of expenses. However, the expenses are paid out of the profits, so I simply hadn't moved the profit surplus into the expense account, which would have highlighted the cost deficit. I attempted to not draw any undue attention to it, but that failed. I must find somewhere to funnel the excess money that would not arouse suspicion."

It takes you a minute to process that whole thing. Diego watches you mentally work through it with amused patience. You now have more questions than answers. "Okay, wait. Rewind further back. Why do you have extra money? Are you not spending as much?"  What is happening? 

"It is two folds," Diego holds up a hand with one finger raised, you don't bother correcting him this time, "I am not consuming my own product, therefore selling more and netting more profits." He raises a second finger and continues, "I am spending substantially less on incidental costs. Not so many bottles or strippers or whatever. So saving more." 

He stares at his own raised fingers in bemusement before muttering thoughtfully, "Julio always led me to believe that women are expensive to keep but you have been saving me money. Hmm." He glances up at you with a small smile, tentative and cautious, so very not Diego-like. 

Your shrug is exaggerated, but your flush is not. "Glad I could help? I mean, its my fault this extra money is sitting around, so its my fault she noticed and then came here. I'm sorry, baby." Sometimes when you open your mouth everyone goes on a surprise trip, including you. It wasn't meant to turn self-deprecating, but here you are. You really do feel guilty. My presence has altered his lifestyle and its a problem.

The worry must be obvious on your features because Diego catches it immediately. He rushes to soothe you, "No, Princess. I chose to do these things, or rather to not. You have done nothing wrong. I would rather have you and this problem than to not have you and not this." His right hand comes up to cradle your cheek and direct your gaze down to him. Those beautiful brown eyes are molten, fierce with some emotion you don't want to analyze. It still fucks you up.

You swallow hard and lick your lips, "So what do we do?" Diego follows the path of your tongue with his thumb while his lips curl up in pleasure at your choice of wording. The way he looks at you sometimes, like he might try to move heaven and earth for you, it hurts. You can't decide if you like it or not.

"We must spend the money." He winks at you. "I will invest some and hide it in offshore accounts. If anything happens it will come to you." His air of finality is chilling.

Looking him over, you can feel tears welling up. "I don't want the money. I mean, don't get me wrong, I enjoy being spoiled, because duh. But if I have to make some ultimate choice between money or Murder Panther?" Your hands fling around with impassioned gesticulation. 

Diego chuckles, "What does," he imitates your sharp movements, "mean, Princess?" His eyes sparkle with the city lights twinkling in through the windows, but so far he is succeeding in suppressing his smile.

"It means, you know!" You flail your hands around faster, as if that will make your point. 

Diego does it back faster, so you interject with even faster movements, and Diego rebuts the same way until you grab his hands to stop him. The both of you dissolve into almost hysterical giggles.

He uses your joined hands to pull your forehead down to his. You can see a dizzying array of emotions swirling in his eyes, its breathtaking. His breathing hitches, brows draw down, and then his eyes close. 

"Baby." You sigh, cupping his cheeks gently, "What?" The question is soft, tentative. He doesn't release the hold on your wrists, but allows you enough space to pet him minutely. 

"When I have you here it blocks out everything else." Long fingers spasm on your forearms as Diego pauses to drag in a ragged breath, he continues, "I want to keep you here."

I don't know what to say. You're dumbfounded. "What? What does that mean?"  Your voice has shrunk down to a quavering whisper.

Diego opens his eyes to look up at you and they are deep enough for drowning. "You are coddling me and I like it. I want you here every day. Give me this whenever I want it." He whispers roughly. Diego studies your form as though committing your features to memory. "You should," that raspy voice hesitates and Diego grips your arms tighter, "You should quit your job and move in with me."  He stares up at you in complete sincerity. 

You're trying to keep it together. Diego is the one who had a bad day here. You're supposed to be helping him, not having your very own freak out. Think rationally about this. He isn’t here all the time, sometimes he's in LA. I'm not hot enough to be a trophy wife. What would I do all day? Just help him? Wouldn't that just be a different job? Oh my god, if I say yes to this… what if he asks me to go to LA? What if--

"PRINCESS!" Diego's bark cuts through your mental tornado and you blink back to awareness. He is still in your lap, cupping your jaw in one giant hand, while he watches you silently freak the fuck out. 

"I'm sorry," you gasp, "I didn't mean to just. Just. Zone out." Your breathing is shallow and you can feel your heart racing. 

Diego just watches you, unreadable. You glance down at him then look away. One of the coffee mugs is missing from the tree. Must be in the dishwasher.

"Hey." That rumble is soft and you cannot ignore it. Your eyes shoot down to his again, then away, and you shake your head 'no' minutely. Diego shifts to sit up (Via only abdominal muscles, your entire pelvis helpfully informs you) but keeps a hand on you. He sits back into the corner of the sectional and beckons to you. When you move toward him Diego spins you so your back is to his chest while you sit in his lap.

He wants to maintain contact but not overwhelm me by being in my face. I wonder if he’s been researching again.

Its enough to crack your heart open a little.

His long legs bracket your hips and you smile fondly, it reminds you of all the times spent in the jacuzzi tub. Diego rests his prickly chin on your left shoulder, wraps huge hands around your middle, and just sits there. Your hands pet over his thighs, his knees, then inward to cover the grip on your rounded stomach. 

"Logically," you clear your throat, "I know you don't mean it this way. But. I, well, I basically gave up my entire self once before and, as you know, it did not go well." Your voice is clear but soft as you continue, "You're not him. You are so very not him. But I still have… scars." Your hands are shaking noticeably so you stuff them under his. Diego laces his fingers with yours and steadies you.

"You never told me what he did to you. I want to know everything about you, Princess. Let us make a deal, huh?" Diego is always just a little bit greedy and you can only respect that as a fellow hedonist.

Tilting your head to the left, you lean your cheek against his nose, then answer warily, "I'm listening…"  You can feel Diego's smirk.

"I will tell you what happened when I was little and you will tell me what happened during that 'relationship'. An even exchange." He stares at you from a few centimeters away and you return the calculating look from the corner of your eye.

Your lips purse while you consider, then offer a caveat, "Only if I can write it out and not speak it." You turn to face him fully. He looks so… soft.

Diego licks his lips, "Deal. Now kiss." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You write out everything you can remember from your ex.

How no one was allowed to know you existed, you could have no title, that it wasn't a 'relationship' despite living together for eight years. 

You worked full time, you cooked, you cleaned, you kept a household budget even when it meant emptying your savings account to pay for his bankruptcy filing. 

The way you paid all the bills but your name was only listed on the lease, the three cases of beer you had to buy every week no matter how tight money was for groceries, you weren't permitted to hang anything on the walls so your ex could cover them with posters of girls half your size. 

You kept your hair dyed strawberry blonde because that was what he liked, because then he would touch you without sneering. The other girls you poached for him to sleep with instead of you. How you were supposed to be grateful that a man would even deem to fuck you at your size.

The wake up call when you argued back the first time after all those years. How he had backed you up to the top of the steep stairs in your second floor apartment and then loomed over you. The way you teetered on the precipice before diving under one of his arms and escaping to the bathroom, the only door with a lock.

How one day while he was at work you stuffed everything that would fit into your car and just left. The way you had to start over from scratch with no credit history or savings. The court proceedings for the restraining order, that you had to recount everything in front of your family, a judge, and the ex himself.

. . . . .

You don't realize how badly your hands are shaking until Diego takes the tablet from them. He sets it down on the neighboring cushion and locks the screen dark before turning back to you. Those huge arms wrap around your middle, on top of your own arms hugging yourself, and pull your back flush to his chest. You ponder his largeness; his thighs are as long as your arms, the stupefyingly huge hands and feet are an endless source of fascination, the biceps are your favorite pillow. You grin dumbly. 

"What?" Even at a whisper his voice vibrates deep in your chest. Its not especially deep, but its so rough, it almost reminds you of a cat tongue. Diego watches your face from an inch away.

Left shoulder raising in a lazy shrug, you sigh, "I love sleeping next to you. And I don't like sharing a bed with anyone." You blush a bit with the confession, but its true. "I feel safe with you even though realistically I know it should feel the opposite. You won't hurt me and you won't let anyone else either." Its a direct contrast to what you were just writing about and you say it with absolute conviction. 

"Of course not! But, but if I do, accidentally obviously, you will tell me?" Diego sounds simultaneously aghast and condescending but not at all offended by your acknowledgement of his potential danger. Amazing.

You turn to face him and lean your forehead against his. Diego sighs softly and squeezes you tighter. "I mean, I might write it, but yeah." 

He makes that adorable scrunchy-thinky face that you love before announcing, "I'll allow it."

Your eyes roll fondly as you sigh, "Oh good. So glad that meets your approval."  His sly smile is mesmerizing. 

"So. Are you gonna read that or…?" You glance down to the tablet then back up at him. "No, wait," you interject before his open mouth can start making noise, "Tell me yours first. Please." You turn solemn as you consider how bad this might be. Watching his face gives you a hint; his forehead smooths and his eyes shutter while soft lips turn down at the corners. Its his poker face, he is hiding from you.

Diego clears his throat quietly and looks away before he begins, "Our mother died when I was young, before I started school. My Lita said she committed suicide, apparently she was depressed after I was born. Alicia blamed me." 

You knew he had grown up without a mom, all of his delighted reactions to your own mother knowing and hearing about him had suddenly made a hell of a lot more sense when he told you. And you already knew that he was close with his grandmother, Lita, that she had looked out for him. And now much of Alicia's behavior made sense, too.

"My earliest memory of Alicia is at age twelve for her. By that point she had convinced our father that it was my fault. I was four the first time he hit me with a belt. The buckle, of course." Diego's jaw grinds, you can see his right eye twitch. You want to reach out to him but he probably won't tolerate it right now. He frequently misreads sympathy for pity. I'm starting to understand why.

"When I was eight she said to get in the car, I was allowed to go to the grocery store with her. The nearest was the next town to the east. Halfway there she pulled over and told me to get out, then she left. A neighbor driving home from the store saw me and took me to Lita. I do not know how long I was out there but I was very hungry." Here Diego pauses and swallows, "Lita said I ate a pound of beans." His wry smile is bitter. 

Brown eyes turn to you, his face is closed and guarded at first. You keep your mouth shut and just look at him. Slowly but surely, Diego's big body relaxes behind you, his eyebrows flatten and his lips soften. 

"When I was ten she pushed me through an open window. He beat me with the metal frame from the broken screen. At twelve I burnt one of the kitchen cabinets trying to make food before they got home. It was a rake that time. Thirteen was a microwave, I did not know about the thing with aluminum foil so it sparked and it was ruined. Also, I somehow got a video tape tangled in the VCR, I have no idea how. I begged my friend not to leave, father would not do anything until we were alone. It only made it worse." You can't take it anymore, your right hand comes up to his far shoulder and strokes up to cup his jaw. 

Diego turns toward you, rests his forehead into your neck, then proceeds to give you more. "I was sixteen when father staged the coup and killed his uncle to take over the cartel. He and Alicia sent me on 'errands'. I learned that these were suicide missions when I turned nineteen. Each time I came home fucked up but alive they were furious. Every time the cartel experienced a setback Alicia convinced everyone it was my fault, that I somehow ruined everything I was given." The seismic effect of his voice has shrunk in correlation to his volume. You can clearly tell that this is the time period when Alicia cemented into his mind that he was a total fuckup. 

Rough beard sears your skin as Diego raises his head to rub a cheek on you. You shudder and fist his shirt in your hand. With a deep sigh he goes on, "I was twenty-two when I made my first deal with a cousin. It took three years but we arranged for a rival outfit to give information to the DEA and they took our father away. Alicia decided this was her chance to take over everything but the men did not all take her seriously as a woman. Thus, she finally had a use for me and so here I am still."

You lean into him, rubbing back. Diego is the first and only person with whom you have actively wanted and enjoyed cuddling. He always smells good to you, even when he should probably shower you still like to bury your nose in his hair and breathe deep. Its gotta be pheromones. 

"She doesn’t know that you made that deal, does she?" You question cautiously, wary of upsetting him. He shakes his head 'no' and brushes fleeting kisses up your neck to your cheek. You take it one step farther, "So could you potentially take over everything by yourself?"

Diego pauses to meet your gaze, his head cocks to the side just the tiniest bit. "Do… do you want me to do that?" His voice is hesitant, cautious even. 

"No." You whisper softly. "I just want you safe. As safe as possible. And I know you'll be safer if she is out of your life." Your smaller hands cup his jaw through their own volition, thumbs stroking over the silver patches in his goatee. Plunging straight into the deep end, you offer an alternative, "Or, if that isn't a viable option, maybe you could quote-unquote 'retire'?" You study his beautiful face as his eyes unfocus while he digests your words. His brow furrows and he purses his lips in concentration. 

"That is worth some deliberation, Princess." Diego admits. Then, with a visible shake, he comes back to the topic at hand. "But now, it is your turn. Turn back, huh? I'll read this." Big hands move you around like a ragdoll and you melt a little inside, I wonder if he could just carry me like a baby all day.

You snuggle back into thick torso and sigh with pleasure. Yes, you're still anxious about this but you trust Diego more. Knees drawing up, you hide in your thighs, he only squeezes you tighter. You can hear him picking up the tablet and. And.

Breathe. Just breathe. My jeggings are soft, the couch is slightly fuzzy, his pants are silky, the blanket is plush. I'm here, with Diego, right now. Safe. You practice the grounding techniques that have worked in the past while he reads silently. His stillness is killing you slowly.

Finally, the tablet goes back to the cushion and the second hand comes back to you. Diego grips your stomach tightly before speaking, "Princess. You understand that you are beautiful, yes? I said I love you because I meant it. You. Just like this. Round and soft and thick. With your glasses and your big dark eyes and these curls in so many shades of brown and silver. Smart, sarcastic, funny, ballsy. You are shrewd and sneaky, that's sexy!" He chuckles a bit and you laugh raggedly, trying to hold back tears. 

"But," he continues in a milder tone, "I understand why you were unnerved earlier. I did not mean to absorb you, or, or erase you. I only want to take care of you. Spoil you how you deserve it. You understand?" That dark voice directly in your ear is incredibly distracting, and then the words register in your consciousness. 

"I, I mean I understand but I don't get it. You know?" Your voice is raspy, you're so tired deep in your soul. This is everything you never allowed yourself to dream of and you're not entirely sure that maybe you aren't in a coma somewhere hallucinating all of this. It certainly feels real, you snort to yourself as you pet over Diego's muscled arms. 

Nuzzling into your neck, he sighs deeply, "Oh, I do. You have no criminal record, you rescue tiny baby animals, I have seen you buy food for other people when their card declines, you sort recycling, woman." Here he laughs wryly and you join him. You see his point, you're both from very different backgrounds and from the outside probably don't seem like a good fit. But still…

"Most of my insecurities come from my size and the way that has influenced other people's demeanor toward me. You have never behaved like that, you always treated me just like all other women. It's both confusing and freeing. Like, at times I don't know how to behave but other times I just run with it." Your confession comes out evenly and sounds logical. Huh, maybe I'm finally getting over some of this.

Diego hums thoughtfully from where he is pressed into your cheek. "And you have always treated me like a person, not a bank or just a good time. Or a path to power." His voice is raspy and low, full of emotion. "As though my feelings mattered. Even that first night. You regarded me as an equal." You chuckle with the memory of forcing him to come to you in the club when you first met. His dimpled smile of delight still has the same effect on you. Recalling the morning after when he wasn't at all fazed upon seeing you while sober and well-lit fills you with warmth, too.

Diego goes on, oblivious to your musings, "I want to take care of you as a partner, not take you over. I want you just as you are, I wouldn't have taken you home, or texted you later, or invited you back if I didn't. I will share everything with you. I have kept you from the business for your own safety, but I, but if, if you want to see or learn, I know you would be an exceptional addition. It would change your life drastically and I did not want to make that decision for you; that would not end well."

You can hear the restrained hope in his words. His serious consideration of leaving the business for you is a revelation. He really and truly wants to share his life with you; to make a life together, not simply add you to his own as an accessory. He values your input and observations but doesn't want to put you in a precarious or dangerous situation. Being with him like this already does that. I'm already in this far, I'm IN LOVE WITH HIM.

"I want to think about it. I can't lie, of course I like the idea of being taken care of, not having to worry about things. But I still need to be my own individual, not a dependent, you know?" Its easier when you can't see him, you're less likely to shutdown and go nonverbal. Diego clearly understands this, and therefore you. Its new and novel and comforting and terrifying. 

With a kiss to your cheek he leans back a bit to whisper, "That is understandable and reasonable. I have been doing research, reading on normal relationships and not so normal women. I have never done any of this before.  But know this: Everything I have, everything I am, is yours, Princess. My wealth, my connections, my power, me, my heart, this dick, all yours."

You snort through tears, "That's like a fucking hallmark card, baby." It hurts underneath your ribs, Is this what love is supposed to feel like or am I doing it wrong? He's certainly doing it right. You giggle unevenly before amending, "Except for the dick. That is all Diego."

His laugh is deep and soft. "I have never bought a card in my life. Is that really what they're like?" He asks incredulously. Your enthusiastic nod only makes him laugh harder, the hoarseness of it giving way to wheezing. "That is horrible!"

"I know!" You crow and then collapse back into him in helpless guffaws. Diego wheezes into your hair, grabbing your hands and holding tight. 

"But," he pauses to giggle briefly, "But, can we try? Will you at least consider more for me? I wasn't sure when to tell you, but... we are going to split the territory and the duties. I am going to stay here, in New York, full time." Diego declares haltingly, his voice quavers with the fear of rejection. "You can come here whenever you wish and I'll be able to reach you in two hours on any day. I want to be as close to you as possible, close for you."

You turn around slowly, openly gawking at him. His big brown eyes are wet, he blinks furiously and licks his lips in apprehension. This dangerous, powerful, stunning man is afraid of your refusal.

 "You… I. I don't know what. That's. No one has ever…" you trail off and gesture vaguely. Your question is thick with shock, "You're rearranging your life for me?"

Diego shrugs half-heartedly. "You are my priority,  Princess. I don't want a life without you. Please tell me that is ok-kay." His voice hitches. For this man that is practically begging. 

You can feel your throat closing up, its all you can do to nod and throw yourself into his arms. That big body sags with relief as Diego crushes you to him. Burrowing into his neck, you choke out fiercely, "I love you, Diego Jimenez." 

His choppy sigh, the soft, "Te amo, Princess." It all shatters you apart. When the pieces come back together again its Diego who fits them into place, Diego who holds you together, Diego who tries to set you free to thrive on your own terms. 

This is like the most ridiculously lovesick puzzle in the universe. Fucking feelings.

[wickednerdery]

Title: Hoarfrost Hel: Carried Author: @wickednerdery Fandom: Marvel Pairing/character: Loki (& multiple OCs) Rating: Teen Summary: “He’s a feisty one, eh?” Notes: This is the second part of what’s shaping up to be a legit trilogy (the first is FrostBitten) - the master list is here. The story on whole is gonna be very dark, this piece itself - which picks up after Loki’s last one - includes violence. Still, for consistency and length, it gets a “Read More”.

He doesn’t sleep, he can’t; his mind runs through hundreds, thousands, of possibilities. Methods of survival, ways to escape, how to best get the upper-hand and overthrow his current situation. The collar pressures obedience so often Loki grows accustomed enough to ignore all but the greatest shocks...and even those only pause him briefly. He cannot stop; he stops and he’s submitted and Loki of Asgard submits to no one. Never fully. Never truly.

Others sleep. The snake-woman winces as she dozes. Fools. No wonder they’re all still slaves.

Loki pries at the thin metal netting encasing his hands, works to tear it apart, open. He fails at open, but nevertheless peels a strip of wire out that deft fingers begin to twist and shape. When the ship stops he searches for one of his pockets in the universe...finding he can access none, he palms it instead.

“To the back of the container!” The order rings throughout, to which those who can obey, do. Those who cannot, like Loki, merely make themselves smaller...except Loki. He’s cramped enough, he’ll not be making himself all the smaller and more uncomfortable.

The ramp lowers, four armed and armored men enter with a fifth coming last as he examines a tablet. He calls names and, one by one, those who can come forward do so. Those who can’t are gathered up by the guards. Loki only watches, tries to see where they go once beyond the ramp and, failing that, find a routine to the roll call. ...It’s basis of origin, from first to last pickup, female to male...

“Asgard, Malina.”

She slips forward, past others, past Loki with a furtive and warning glance, before continuing on down the ramp. Of all the beings to have her fate tied to, it had to be the God of Mischief. A god whose nature she knew was to trick, to lie, and to fight...whose nature was most likely to get them both killed. She could only pray to the fates that she’d have a new master soon, that in having new orders to follow her past ones - especially Thor’s - would be negated. In the meantime whatever the god did would affect her; her well-being, her safety, her future.

“Asgard, Loptr.”

The guards lift cage and Loki tightens sore muscles, ready to spring at first opportunity. He’s dropped beside Malina as if no more than cargo. The tablet-man even scolds - “don’t damage the merchandise!” - as if he were such a thing. He growls, braces feet and back against the bars in attempts to break free...but, like all the times prior, to no avail. Unlike the other times, he does get some attention for it.

“He’s a feisty one, eh?” Tablet-man struts down the ramp, letting it shut behind him. “You want out, that it? Go ahead...Let him out.”

Loki works the hand cage lock with his bit of metal and, when the container is kicked open, his hands are as free as the rest of him. Tablet-man steps back, hitting a button that sets alarm off, while guards rush forward and Malina grips her collar preparing for all the ways this will go wrong for Loki...for her.

The first guard approaches from the front and Loki punts the cage up into his nose, breaking it with a nasty crunch and wail from him. The second guard tries a side approach and receives Loki’s makeshift lock-pick in the eye. The other two are smarter and tackle from behind together, gathering up hands and arms underneath as they force him to the dirt with a gruesome CRACK.

Pain fires in fingers, arm, to shoulder and neck as one wrist bends in the most unnatural of ways. The god twists, shifts, to avoid teeth cracking when guards slam knees into his back, forcing more weight onto the broken bone...bones as there’s a secondary punishing slam to break more.

Malina grabs her own wrist, her own hand, opening mouth in a silent cry. Loki’s pain is her own; that is her punishment from the collar. Without injury the thrall collar lights up her nerves with the raw pains of a shattered wrist and crushed fingers until tears stream down her face. She will protect Loki or she will suffer with him.

It would not be so terrible if he could merely fix it, if he could do what he’s always done. Quick as thought he’d heal bruises, bleeds, and breaks in the past...but now, Seiðr locked behind collar and muzzle, Loki has no choice but to feel it. Truly feel it. And it feels terrible; crippling as he finds himself unable to do anything with the hand and even thought of effort brings shocks of both numbness and pain. Loki cringes, cries out through gag, as the two slam him once more.

Nausea hits her in waves, she doubles over, sobs, trying to hide herself in the crowd for a moment’s peace and privacy. She takes a deep breath, tries to straighten up, when Loki’s slammed a fourth time in the rush of reinforcements...Malina’s retches, balance leaves her, stars come, and she passes out into the dirt.

“What the fuck?” Tablet-man rolls eyes with a groan and whistles as more guards approach. “Get those two to medical, the rest to processing, I don’t have time for this shit.”

Those pinning Loki yank him back up, mangled hand held in his other, as a new guard cuffs Malina by hands and feet before lifting her over his shoulder like a sack to carry away.

I’m mean...and this is just the beginning, mwahahahaha!!! Only cutting it off there so I can more properly expand in the next piece, hopefully show what medical care (and maybe processing) is like for slaves and all that. I think Loki’s wrist mainly broke due to its angling when he was tackled under his own weight (though the additional weight of the guard’s didn’t help)...Malina had a greater reaction because she’s a mortal trying to handle a god’s level of pain, if that makes sense.

(Gif found on Google)

Tagged: @chibiyanai @wadeyouwitch @creedslove @lady-crowned-with-stars @moonfaery @annievvv7  @ladyfluff @holykryptonitekitten @lokilvrr @janebrownnie @lokis-little-kitten @alexakeyloveloki @theangelsfightwithdevils @the-blue-tiefling @lokis-lady-death @dangertoozmanykids101 @prometheasmother @vethrvolnir @wintertink @amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes  @drakonwild @starscreamloki @judas-nipples @hiddles-rose  @the-lady-witchitery @galaxies-inside-my-head @jackheart180 @lukeevansandjdmobession @endlessstairway @lanabanana-86 @tom-fucking-hiddleston-1981 @lovekrystina @madoka73 @lokikingofasgardslover713 @partiallyinthecloset @ultrarebelheart  @gravitational-anomaly @manip-loki @my-world-of-imagines @lowcarbgem @tarithenurse …Think that’s everyone from FrostBitten, if you want on or off, just lemme know! (Strike-throughs are those Tumblr refuses to tag properly)