#*offended traveler noises intensifies*

[croftersforlife]

Wait wouldn't be funny if sh'ia adopted sara and protected of her, and traveler have to deal with it because of sh'ia

This is what I imagine that would look like:

Sara: Thanks for making breakfast, your Majesty! It’s really good!

Si’ha: Please, Sara. You can call me by my first name. Your family now!

The Traveler: Could I get some break-

Si’ha: Make it yourself

[minor-solemnity]

hi i love your work and am excited for your series. i was wondering if you can do a one shot where the reader comforts tom and let’s him fall asleep on her while she plays with her hair 😩 soft tom 😈

Yesssss! Soft Tom - I cannot resist! This may have gotten away from me a bit so I hope you enjoy 2.6k of fluffy comfort!

Tag List: @jinxqsu @naps-and-lemons @riddles-wifey @mainlynonsense @cakesarecute @crumpets-are-better-with-jam

What Equates to Worship

The door to your bedroom is open and you roll your eyes when you peer inside and find the source of your broken wards slumped in the armchair next to your bed. Tom’s best robes are in a heap at the foot of the bed, his smartest brogues are kicked into the furthest corner of the room, his hair - usually so neat - is disarray. He looks like the world’s most harangued man. “Good evening, my love,” You murmur as you make your way over to his side, kneeling on the floor so that you can take hold of his hands which are resting loosely in his lap. “You broke my wards again.”

It’s late when you get home. There is a Very Important Case being tried in the Wizengamot and your boss, Gerald Montague, is running you ragged in an attempt to get the edge on the prosecution. It’s a nasty case, the defendant, Mr Vickers, is on trial for the kidnapping and murders of five women. His chances aren’t looking good - there is enough physical evidence to bury him and his alibi is flimsy at best. In private, both you and Montague are convinced of his guilt but that doesn’t matter when it’s your job to convince the Wizengamot and a jury of his innocence. Needless to say, it’s not been an easy couple of weeks.

Your shoes click against the uneven cobblestones as you make your way down the narrow road to your flat situated just off the main drag of Knockturn Alley. It’s not the best part of town, but the flat itself is double the size of what you would be able to afford if you lived somewhere more reputable. Besides, it’s not as though you’ve ever been scared by the less savoury parts of humanity and society - you’d be awful at your job if that were the case. You throw a couple of sickles to the hag that operates outside your building, and she promises you glory in the afterlife in thanks. “If you could promise me glory when I’m alive, I think I’d find that more useful,” You say as you fumble with your keys.

She laughs, “That will cost you more than a few sickles, love, try again tomorrow.” You chuckle and shrug a shoulder. It was worth try at least. The gas lamps that lead the way up the winding stairs to your attic flat are already lit, casting a dim, flicking light across the stairwell. You frown slightly as you make your way up the stairs; no one usually lights the lamps, leaving it up to you to light them when you return from the Ministry every day. Your curiosity is further piqued when you reach your front door and find it glowing a dim red, indicating that someone has broken through the wards. You have an idea of who it is, but you take your wand out just in case you’re mistaken. You have a few files from the Very Important Case hidden in the depths of your bedroom, which in the wrong hands, would be disastrous for you and Montague.

The inside of your flat is dark and cold and looks just as you’d left it this morning. With a sigh, you flick your wand at the fire and smile as flames begin to flicker and burn. Your flat is relatively spacious, but the fireplace is enchanted to spread the warmth further than a normal fire would and with any luck you’ll be toasty and warm within a few minutes. You shrug out of your travelling robes and kick off your heels, rubbing your aching feet with relish. Next on your list of things to do is figure out who has broken into your flat and if it's something you should be concerned about.

You pad through the flat, your stockinged feet making no noise against the polished wooden floorboards. The door to your bedroom is open and you roll your eyes when you peer inside and find the source of your broken wards slumped in the armchair next to your bed. Tom’s best robes are in a heap at the foot of the bed, his smartest brogues are kicked into the furthest corner of the room, his hair - usually so neat - is in disarray. He looks like the world’s most harangued man. “Good evening, my love,” You murmur as you make your way over to his side, kneeling on the floor so that you can take hold of his hands which are resting loosely in his lap. “You broke my wards again.”

He makes a small sound in the back of his throat which is honestly pitiful and you are struck by a burning desire to make whoever put him in such a state pay for their crimes. Tom should never look so downtrodden - it doesn’t suit him in the slightest. You rub soft circles against his palms, smoothing the tension out of his fingers with careful strokes as the quiet of your flat weaves a gentle spell of calm and soothing around the two of you. “Is it a good evening?” He mutters and when you look up at his face, you can see the hard lines of annoyance and defeat marring his forehead.

“Hmm, don’t frown, darling - you’ll ruin your pretty face.” This at least gets a small hum of amusement out of him which you count as a win. Heaven knows that when Tom gets in these moods it can take a lot more than gentle touches and murmured sweet-nothings to get him to smile. You rise from your position and move behind the armchair, resting your cheek on the crown on his head and your hands on his shoulders to kneed at his knotted muscles. “I assume that you didn’t get the job?”

You’ve been so busy with your own work that you’d forgotten that Tom’s interview with Dumbledore was today. If you had remembered you would have taken the day off because even the most optimistic person would have known there was a fool’s chance of Tom getting the Defence job. Despite everything though, Tom is an optimist. You would never have guessed it when you first got to know him, but underneath his taciturn facade is a terribly hopeful young man who still believes that things will turn out in his favour. His idealism is part of what you love about him if you’re being honest with yourself. It’s a good contrast to your cynical realism.

It’s ridiculous, of course. Tom, despite his young age, is the most qualified person you can think of for the position. He knows more about Defensive magic than anyone save for maybe Dumbledore himself, and beyond that, he has the right temperament for it. It comes as a surprise to most people who meet him that Tom would be a good teacher, but he really is. His love of Hogwarts, defensive magic, and his desire to impart that knowledge all adds up to someone who sees struggling students and wants them to succeed. If it had been anyone other than Dumbledore, he would have been a shoo-in for the role.

“You assume correctly.” His voice is still tight and muted with resigned anger, but he begins to loosen under your hands, his head lolling to the side and coming to rest against your forearm.

“Did he give you a reason why?”

Tom sighs and the sound is world-weary and destitute. At that moment, your hatred for Dumbledore intensifies. “He never intended on giving me a chance. He invited me in and lectured me about dark magic. He essentially said that as long as he was Headmaster I would not be welcome in the castle.” The worst thing is that Tom sounds so forlorn. Unlike you, who had decided after a year at Hogwarts that the only thing you wanted to do was leave, Tom’s fondness for the school is unparalleled. “Knowing him, that won’t be for another hundred years or so.”

“I’m so sorry, Tom,” You say, dropping a kiss into the dark curls of his hair. “He’s an old coot. Still so struck by the mythology of his own genius that he can’t see past his own prejudices.” He hums lowly in response and eventually, you feel him start to relax. It’s gratifying to know that it’s you over anyone else, that he comes to when he needs support. You know his friends and followers would do anything to gain his favour, but at the end of the day, he doesn’t seek them out. No, he doesn’t trust them to see him like this, to see him in his more human moments of vulnerability. He trusts you to understand him and comfort him. That in itself is a gift.

“Now, come on. We can worry about Dumbledore later, but right now, let me find us something to eat.” Food, in your opinion, can go a long way to right a lot of wrongs and you have a sneaking suspicion that Tom probably hasn’t eaten all day. He’s annoying like that, too wrapped up in his own thoughts to care about silly little things like eating and taking care of oneself. You can’t help but chuckle softly as he mumbles something under his breath and reaches for your hands to hold you in place. “Later, my love. I promise,” You say and disentangles yourself from his grasp.

Tom follows you out of the bedroom and watches you with a look of exasperated amusement as you search your kitchen. Your cupboards are sinfully bare when you go to inspect them, the rush of the last two weeks has meant that you’ve neglected a lot of your more basic chores. “And you accuse me of neglecting my needs. You hardly set a good example, my dear.” He murmurs from where he’s lounging against the stove. You roll your eyes as you shove your feet back into your heels and head for the door.

“Veeraswamy?” You ask and have to hide your smile when Tom’s eyes light up. It’s not often that the two of you treat yourselves to restaurant-quality food as neither of your jobs’ salaries really allow the indulgence, however, tonight, you think an exception is called for. “Feel free to look over the files I brought home - maybe you’ll notice something I missed.” You don’t even finish your sentence before Tom is digging through your work bag and pulling out the offending files. Typical, you think fondly. Tom is as curious as a cat and one of the easiest ways of making him feel better about anything is to introduce him to a puzzle.

Fifteen minutes later you apparate home with a brown paper bag of Veeraswamy’s finest selection of curries and sweet treats. As a rule, they’re dine-in only, as many of the restaurants in muggle London are, however, you’re not above a confundus charm to get what you want and you always make sure to tip splendidly to offset any guilt you feel for taking advantage. When you get in, Tom has the case files splayed out on the small kitchen table and you spare yourself a moment to admire the elegant curve of his neck and the way his curls fall in graceful arcs across his brow. Without looking up, he makes a space for you to drop the bag of goodies on the table and you collect plates and the bottle of wine that is the only thing you already had in your flat.

You discuss the Very Important Case over dinner and he indulges in your complaints about Montague’s refusal to even consider your line of defence. “Vickers says that he went to a Seer and was told that these women would die by his hand. I want to make the case that he can’t be fully held accountable for the murders if it’s already foretold.” Never mind that that isn’t how prophecies or fortune work, no one in the Wizengamot understands the intricacies of Divination well enough to know that just because something is said, doesn’t mean it will come to pass. “Montague is convinced that we can prove his innocence without resorting to asking for lesser charges.”

“And he’ll lose the case because of it.” He hums, sets his fork down and reaches for your hand, his long fingers looping around your wrist. “Have you considered the fact that Vickers may have been compromised? The file says that when he was found, Vickers was abnormally placid and made no attempts to hide the evidence that would have been easily disposed of? Maybe hire a mind-healer and see if he’s been the victim of an imperius curse,” He says nonchalantly as though he hasn’t just dropped the biggest break in the case in your lap.

“Tom. Tom, you are a genius. How did you even begin to come to that conclusion?” He must hear the wonder in your voice because a small, self-satisfied smile curves his upper lip and he leans over the table to press a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips.

“These things are obvious if you know what you’re looking for.” The knowing in his voice hints at something darker and your eyes narrow slightly. Tom’s proclivity for the dark arts is no secret, neither is his cunning and ruthlessness. You don’t ask and he doesn’t tell, but you suppose it’s probably a good thing that you’re training to become a defence lawyer. Maybe one day he’ll need one.

Tonight is not the night for those kinds of thoughts though. You doubt any night will be - if ever there comes a day when you have to reckon with Tom’s less savoury pursuits, you already know where your allegiances lie. With a soft hum of acknowledgement, you stand and lead him to the bedroom. “Enough maudlin talk for tonight, I think,” You say as you settle against the headboard and motion for him to join you. “You must be tired after today.”

Even though he tries to hide it, you can see that the day has worn on him. Shadows form like ink stains underneath his eyes, and he holds himself with a kind of forlorn regret that fills you with a feeling of sympathetic sorrow. He crawls up the bed and raises an eyebrow when you don’t move to make room for him. Instead, you simply lift an arm and smile, sleepiness and tenderness mingling into something soft in your eyes. After a few second of internal debate where Tom looks from you to the spot you’ve made for him, he gingerly lowers himself against you, his head resting in the hollow where your shoulder meets your neck. He lies unnaturally still and tense in the way a feral kitten might react to the kindness of a stranger.

Honestly, it’s more than a little heartbreaking. Slowly - carefully - you rest one hand over his heart and begin to card your other through his hair. You’re not entirely sure how he manages it - you’ve never seen a haircare potion in his vicinity - but Tom has the softest hair of anyone you’ve met. It’s dreadfully unfair, really. You rub gentle circles against his scalp and smile softly in the dim light as you feel him relax against you, the long hard lines of his body soften as you continue your gentle ministrations. Gradually, you sense him ease into a contented state as he seeks clemency from the day in your touch.

That you can do this for him, that you can be this for him is not something you would have ever thought possible. You remember vividly the uptight rigidity with which he had held himself throughout your time at school. The fervent dedication he had channelled to reach the top of the pecking order, never allowing himself a moment of softness or reprieve. You’re certain that if he’s not careful he will burn himself out before he’s had a chance to truly shine, and you know just how brightly he could if given the chance.

You brush his hair from his eyes and lazily draw abstract patterns against his chest, feeling the way his breathing deepens as sleep overtakes him. In this moment of calm, sleepy repose, you feel your heart expand with all love and care you think you might ever feel, and you brush a soft kiss to the crown of his head, revelling in the almost breathy sigh that escapes him. “You’re far too good to me,” He mumbles, half asleep and entirely too sincere.

“Agree to disagree, my love. I am exactly as good to you as you deserve.” He chuckles at this, nestling deeper into your side and flinging an arm across your waist. “Now, sleep - we have so much time for everything else.”

AN: Also before anyone accuses me of anachronisms, Veeraswamy is London’s oldest Indian restaurant. It was opened in 1926 and I’ve been there once before - the food was so so so good and it was disgustingly expensive. I’m assuming that it wasn’t that pricey in the 40’s

[comphersjost]

More Than This ➸ Mikko Rantanen

its 3 am and i couldnt wait to post this. its self indulgent, all of it

You have a thing for bigger guys. And Mikko, well, he takes notice.

word count: 3.9k+

warnings: slight angst? if you squint, reader cant get off, size kink (obviously), smut, thigh riding, mutual pining if you squint, sorta best friend!jt

masterlist

You didn't know how you let JT talk you into letting him swipe through your Bumble account. And you definitely don't know how he managed to get you to let him do it while displaying your phone on his Apple TV. And what you absolutely, totally, completely did not know, was how you let him keep going when Ryan, EJ, Gabe, Mikko, Naz and some of the wives and girlfriends arrived at his and Josty’s shared apartment. 

You'd known JT for years, so your dating life wasn't exactly a new subject for you. Besides, it had seemed fun at the time, the group of you lounging around the living room as JT swipes through Bumble for you.

“Hey what about this guy? He's cute!” Gabe says. JT scrolls through the guy’s profile.

“Wait,” you said, stopping him from scrolling any further. “6’4? Swipe right.”

The group erupts into laughter at your words, though you were being completely serious. JT swipes right anyways without scrolling through the rest of “Andy”’s profile, the group cheering as you match. You lock eyes with Mikko, completely by accident, and the dark look in his eyes tells you he knows something you don't. He stands, announcing he's going to get a drink from the kitchen, but you don't miss the smirk tugging at his lips as you gulp, your eyes travel up his hulking frame. 

Your attention is pulled away by Naz saying something about a guy’s bio being “ultimate douchebag vibes”, and that’s when you decide it's been enough. You snatch your phone back from JT, disconnecting from the screen mirroring despite the protests around you. 

“You guys have snooped into my dating life enough,” you laugh, “All thanks to Comph here, but that’s enough, seriously.”

With a grumble, the group relents, allowing the conversation to progress past “6’4? Swipe right.”

-

You were staring again. 

You knew it too. You also knew that if you didn't stop soon - like, now - you were gonna get caught. Again. Just as a thought goes through your head, you feel an elbow digging into your side. 

“If you want to fuck him, just shoot your shot.” You turn to glare at Ashley, finally tearing your eyes away from the blonde brute on the other side of the bar. You reach over to smack JT with the back of your hand as he starts laughing.

“Fuck off, dude,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Even if I wanted to - which I don't, by the way - I couldn't.”

“Says who?” JT says incredulously. “Besides, don't you have a thing for big dudes?” As your oldest friend of the group (though he wasn't always your friend for as long as you've known him, he was your brother’s friend from college before you moved to Denver), JT had the most shit to talk. 

“Says my contract with your team, Jimothy.” The ginger grimaces at the nickname, but lets it slide, opting out of his usual reaction of punching the guys in the arms when they called him that. Instead he laughs again at your defensive expression and your avoidance of his question, turning to call the rest of the guys back to your table. Your glare intensifies as he gives you a shit-eating grin. 

“Technically you don't know that it says that. What's the worst that could happen, Y/N?” he teases, wiggling his eyebrows in a manner that was so unlike him. Drunk JT was the worst you thought. “I'm sure he’d be down for a -” he pauses dramatically “night of passion.” 

You gag at the way he says it, at the same time you here an accented voice say.

“Who wants a night of passion?” 

You tense, not having realized the rest of the team had actually come back so quickly. You force yourself to relax and paint a playful smile on your face, turning to look at the Fin. 

“Nothing, Jimothy’s just being stupid as usual,” you say dryly, scooting over as Mikko motions for you to move further in the booth. You pretend not to notice Ashley’s shit-eating grin as Naz rolls his eyes at her antics. Luckily no one at the table says anything incriminating before the boys start up a new conversation. 

In the chaos you almost don't notice Mikko stretching, placing an arm behind you on the booth. But you do notice, and it makes you stiffen. Mikko feels your body go rigid, glancing down at you with a confused pout. He leans down for a moment until his mouth is by your ear. 

“Are you okay?” he murmurs as his hand drops to caress your shoulder in what you guessed was supposed to be a comforting manner. 

“I’ve got a lot on my mind,” you lie easily, avoiding his gaze. “Just a little on edge.” 

If it was possible his voice lowers, making you strain to hear him. “Just relax.” And - that really doesn't help, heat settling in your gut at the words. 

“Actually -” you say abruptly, finally meeting his eyes for the first time that night, “I think I’m gonna go home. I’m just not feeling it.” 

You can see Ashley watching you closely from the corner of your eye, but you don't turn to look at her. Instead you raise an eyebrow expectantly, motioning for Mikko to get up out of the booth so you could leave. He looks surprised by your sudden desire to leave - lips parted in confusion and what you thought was a hint of hurt. 

With a reluctant look on his face, Mikko slides out of the booth, stepping aside to let you slip past. You send a quick wave to the table, and after a brief goodbye, head towards the exit to wait for your Uber. You assumed Mikko sat back down as you walked away, so it surprised you when you heard Mikko call after you just as you'd begun to walk towards the curb. 

“Y/N! Wait!” 

Your step falters for a moment as you glance over your shoulder, pausin to let Mikko catch up with you. He reaches for you for a moment, before pulling back. 

“Are you okay? Seriously.” 

And like, you hate the concern in his voice. Stupid you think. Stupid accent and stupid pouty lips and stupid - 

Your thoughts are interrupted by Mikko repeating your name, softer this time, as he takes a step closer to you. Your breath hitches at you stare at him towering over you, trying to force yourself to think of anything other than how his massive hands would feel on your body. 

“Yeah,” you finally choke out, taking a step backwards towards your waiting Uber. “Yeah, I’m good, just - I'm just tired and have a lot on my plate right now.” 

You're reaching for the door before he can respond, barely catching his faint “Text me when you get home safe!” before the door is closed. You pretend not to hear him. The driver glances at you in the mirror quizzically, seemingly wanting to ask how you left Mikko Rantanen outside of a bar without so much as a goodbye, but thinks better of it, turning up the soft music on the radio as he begins the drive towards your apartment. 

You feel drained when you finally get home, showering and changing into more comfortable clothes as quickly as you can before crawling into bed. Your thoughts drift to Mikko as you close your eyes, the heat in your gut from before returning. You consider taking care of yourself, but considering you haven't been able to get off in weeks, the idea seems even more exhausting, so you let sleep overtake you. 

- 

“You didn't text me.” 

You glance up from your laptop to see Mikko standing in the aisle of the plane, his eyebrows furrowed into a slight frown. 

“What?” you say dumbly, you stare up at him, forcing your attention away from one of his enormous hands as it curls around the back of the seat in front of you. You only succeed in noticing his thighs in his basketball shorts, the chiseled muscles making your mouth go dry.

“When you left yesterday,” he clarifies, pulling your gaze away from his thighs. “I told you to text me when you got home safe.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah, oh.” 

You're taken aback by irritation in his tone - and slightly offended. Who was he to be annoyed with you? 

“Well, I was really tired, so…” you trail off, eyes falling back to your laptop screen. You hope he takes it as an end to the conversation, and luckily, he does. 

You feel bad for being short with him, but JT and Ashley’s teasing from the night before - and, let’s face it, from months before - was getting to you. You can't help but watch Mikko’s back as he retreats, heading back to the front of the plane where he usually sat. 

You see him slump in his seat, blonde curls barely visible over the backrest, and a pang of guilt shoots through you. It’s gone the moment you catch JT’s eye, flipping him off as he grins knowingly, before shaking your head and focusing on your work. 

You didn't have time to lust over Mikko. Not when you had the job that needed your complete focus. 

The flight is short, and you arrive in Edmonton faster than you thought you would. You try to ignore Mikko’s burning stare as the players and staff exit the plane, trying your best to tune into the animated story Josty was telling JT. 

You breathe a sigh of relief once you close the door to your hotel room, finally relaxing for the first time all day. The game wasn't until tomorrow, so you knew you had time to do what you wanted - which was absolutely nothing. 

And nothing you did, lounging around in your room watching Netflix and declining an offer from JT to go out with, well, everyone. It didn't help that you knew Mikko and Mark’s room was directly next to yours, but as you heard the chaos of a group of 30 grown men, and then some, heading out for the night, you relaxed a little more. 

An idea pops into your head when the noise finally fades, your hands slipping further down your body to rest above your shorts. You were tense, and needed release - desperately. You give in to yourself, slipping your fingers under your shorts and panties, gasping as your fingers slide through your folds. You're already wet, sensitive from not having been able to cum in weeks. 

A soft whimper escapes your lips as your fingertips find your clit, rubbing gently to work yourself up. You can't help the noises that escape your mouth, trying to keep yourself quiet, but easing up when you remembered that everyone had gone out. 

Your breath quickens as you rub tight, fast circles on your cunt, your back arching. Your other hand finds your breast through your thin t-shirt, pulling and pinching at your nipple. The added sensation makes you moan loudly into the empty room. 

Your hand moves faster and faster in your panties as you pinch your nipple roughly, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth to keep yourself quiet - just in case. 

You're so so close, you can feel it. Your orgasm is right there, and it feels endless as you chase it. You move the hand that's playing with your breasts down to slip under your panties, sinking two fingers into your pussy. Your back arches even more at the feeling, whines escaping you now even with your lip between your teeth. You just - you need something to push you over the edge into you euphoria but - 

“Fuck!” you sob, your body collapsing back onto your bed as your hands cease their movements. You draw your hands out of your shorts, repeating “Fuck”, before resigning to the fact that you just can't cum. Tears slip down your cheeks as you attempt to catch your breath. It ached, how bad you needed to cum but you just couldn't. So you give up on, trying to find anything else to focus on. Only hours later did you find yourself falling into a restless sleep. 

- 

The knock on your door makes you jump, the sound echoing in your empty apartment. You frown as you think Who the fuck is here this late? You'd only just gotten home and settled from your trip to Edmonton, finally relaxing on your couch with Netlix already pulled up and ready to browse through. You're so caught up in wondering who could be at your door that another three heavy knocks sound at the door. 

 Impatient much? you think bitterly as you make your way to the door. 

You nearly slam it shut again when you see who's on the other side. 

“Mikko,” you say, a questioning tone to your voice. “What are you-” 

“I heard you.” His words are abrupt, cutting your sentence off. You frown, not understanding what he means. You step aside to let him come in, and he doesn't hesitate before sweeping into your apartment, slipping his shoes off and taking a seat at your couch. 

You raise your eyebrows at Mikko’s boldness as you come to stand in front of him, about to ask him to clarify what exactly it was he heard, before he answers the question for you. 

“Last night. In Edmonton.” 

Your blood runs cold, but his voice lowers, thick with intention. 

“I could hear you, when you couldn't cum.” 

“I - I -” you stutter for a moment, “I thought everyone went out last night.” 

It's not a denial of what Mikko said, and he knows it. 

“I stayed behind,” he says simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. His eyes are dark, and you can't bring yourself to look away, no matter how badly you wanted to. 

“I…” You flush under his gaze, somehow both absolutely mortified by him hearing you, and curious to see what he would say. “And you're telling me this because…?” 

Mikko is silent for a few moments, mulling over his words. “Let me help you,” he finally says, his voice low and husky. “Let me help you cum.” 

You can't help the way you gasp, the desperation from the night before flaring up again. 

“Mikko I don't-” 

“Think it's a good idea?” he finishes, his hands coming to rest on your waist, pulling you closer. “I don't care. I want...I want you. I want this. I want to help you.” 

“Mikko…” 

You sound uncertain but he knows you've already made up your mind. You let out a yelp as he tugs you roughly into his lap, smashing his lips into yours. A moan escapes you immediately, god he was incredible. Mikko is big, he's so big that one of his arms wraps itself almost completely around your waist, the other coming up to cup your face, nearly covering half of it. You feel small in his lap, and you love it. 

His tongue darts in and out of your mouth, coaxing small noise from you as you grip his shoulders. It was better than you could have ever imagined, the way he bites your bottom lip and tugs back on it with a smile. You whine again as his giant hand falls to your ass, flexing over the flesh and squeezing. 

He pushes against your ass, guiding you to rock against him. You tear your lips away from him, head falling to his shoulder at the friction. Your brain is fried, unable to think of anything but the behemoth of a man in front of you. 

“God he's so painfully my type” you remember telling your friend when you first moved to Denver. You didn't tell her why. You didn't tell her it was because of his size. You didn't tell her it was because he was over a foot taller than you. And you definitely didn't tell her it was because you wanted him to use that size to his advantage with you. 

And use it he did, moving your body the way he wants against him as you whimper pathetically. Mikko maneuvers you so that you're seated on one of his massive thighs, your leggings doing next to nothing to provide a barrier between your cunt and his thigh. 

“Please,” you find yourself whining before you can stop yourself. The pressure of his leg against your clit makes you giddy, unable to think of anything but more more more. Mikko’s hand on your ass guides you, rocking your hips against him as the other caresses your hair. 

“That's it,” he spurs you on, accent thickening as he moves you, “Just like that, good girl. Feels good doesn't it?” 

You whimper again and nod against his neck, moving your hips even as he guides you. The friction feels delicious against your cunt, and you can already feel your orgasm building up. Mikko murmurs soft words of encouragement as you rut against him, the tent in his sweatpants growing tighter as more noises escape your throat. 

Logically, you knew Mikko’s size would likely match the size of his cock but - nothing could have prepared you for what you felt against your thigh as you rocked harder into him. His cock was straining against his sweats, thick and heavy as you pushed against him. 

Mikko’s hand disappears from your ass for a moment, before coming down again with a rough smack. You jolt at the sting and cry out as it only brings you closer to the edge. Your hand curls around his neck, your face smushed into his shoulder with his other hand cradling the back of your head. 

“Please, Mikko, please!” you sob into his t-shirt, so fucking close to release. You were desperate, strings of curses and his name and “pleasepleaseplease” the only words leaving your mouth. He coos gently at your desperation, bouncing his leg slightly to give you more friction. 

“I've got you, rakas,” (beloved) he murmurs lowly, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “You're close aren't you?” 

“Mhm.” Your voice comes out whiny, but you could really care less, too caught up in chasing your orgasm to care how you sounded. “Mik - Mikko, please, please.” 

“That’s it,” he repeats, the hand that was cradling your head disappearing, only to come down on your ass sharply. A sob is ripped from your throat as you wind your hand into his hair and pull. “Come on, there you go, are you going to cum for me?” 

“Yes yes yesyesyes,” you babble, frantic as you seek your high. 

“Cum for me, rakas,” Mikko growls. “I want you to cum for me.”

The filthy, commanding tone he uses is enough to send you over the edge, throwing you into white-hot ecstasy as you finally - finally - achieve the release you've been craving. You're faintly aware of the scream you let out, and the tears slipping down your cheeks, but you're too focused on the pleasure you're feeling to be embarrassed - or even care, for that matter. 

Mikko holds you tight to his body as you begin to regain consciousness, rocking you slower and slower against his thigh until he stops, tugging you so that you straddle his lap instead. You're hyper aware of his cock pressing against your thigh, achingly hard. 

“You did so well,” he purrs, peppering your neck with soft, wet kisses. “You did so fucking good, you're so beautiful when you cum for me.” You whine at the words, finally finding the strength to lift your heavy head from his shoulder. 

“Sorry I ruined your shirt,” you snivel, gasping out a sob when another tremor wracks your body. Mikko pulls you back into his chest, chuckling softly. 

“That's alright, suloinen asia. (sweet thing) You did so good for me.” 

Mikko strokes your hair softly as your sobs slow to a stop, holding you tightly to him to build you back up where he shattered you. He whispers sweet nothings in your ear as his fingers caress you, the heat radiating from him lulling you into a daze. 

“Thank you,” you whisper softly, curling your hand around the back of his head. You pull back softly to look at him, and you can't help but revel in what you see. Mikko’s cheeks are pink, his lips swollen and bruised, and his eyes are blown wide with lust. He stares up at you in admiration, smiling almost shyly at your gratitude. 

“Y/N I - fuuuck,” Mikko’s words are cut off when you rock your hips against his aching cock, his hands flying to your waist. “What are you - oh - Y/N - shit -” 

“Please?” you mewl softly, pouting softly at his reprimanding stare. 

“Stop that,” he groans, his head tilting back slightly in pleasure. Whether he's talking about your pout or the way you were grinding on him - who knows. 

“Please?” you repeat, smiling triumphantly when his hands on your waist push you a little harder against his dick. 

“Yeah,” he breathes, “Yeah, yeah, okay, one condition.” 

“Mhm,” you hum, too distracted with roaming your eyes over Mikko’s chest and arms to pay attention. 

“Hey.” Mikko grabs your face between two fingers, squishing your cheeks together as he forces you to look at him. You stop breathing for a moment, his grip on your face unrelenting as you wait for him to tell you his condition. “My condition,” he says, “is that I want more than just this. Let me take you on a date. And no more swiping right on any other big guys on dating apps.” 

His words catch you by surprise, and you laugh loudly. Mikko lets go of your face when you do, watching you throw your head back joyfully. He's confused for a moment, but accepts your kiss, smiling against your mouth as you giggle against his. 

“Is that a yes?” he murmurs between kisses. 

“It's a hell yes,” you smile brightly, leaning into to steal another. 

“Great, now can I fuck you over the back of this couch and make you cum again or what?”

[true-blue-sonic]

Without A Trace

Alternative title: In Plain Sight

A small fluffy story about Silver and Espio playing hide and seek together!

The bush in front of him was twitching.

Silver sneaked closer, keeping his steps as quiet as possible and his breath even. His eyes wide with the thrill of the game he determined the best way for him to get the jump on the foliage without giving his noisy target the chance to escape, checking his position to make sure he wouldn’t get caught. He was downwind, the sun was shining over his back instead of his eyes, and the grass was silent underneath his feet, giving him the perfect set-up for his ploy. There was something hiding in there, something that he was looking for…

“Ha!”

With a cry of triumph Silver jumped right into the bush, only to yelp as there was nothing underneath his hands but crumbling twigs and leaves, plus a very offended bird that chirped shrilly and flew out of the way before it got crushed underneath the hedgehog’s hands. “Oh! Sorry,” Silver apologised to it as he untangled himself, his feathery companion long gone already. “I thought you were my boyfriend, but I guess not.”

Staggering out of the bush in full and falling backwards onto his behind he sighed, ears flicking. He and Espio had been playing hide and seek for over an hour now, at the hedgehog’s request and after a lot of pestering, but wherever Silver went the chameleon managed to be not. He’d looked around the park they had gone to no less than three times now, or at least that was what it felt like, and yet there was no trace of the sneaky ninja. He should have realised Espio would never be so noisy when hiding away anyway, Silver chided himself. He knew the chameleon could turn invisible and had a whole slew of ninja tricks up his sleeve, he had learnt that quickly enough while getting to know the other, but even sending his powers around him and underneath benches and foliage to detect him yielded no results. He’d almost assume Espio had just up and left him, were it not for the fact that the other was much too devoted and kind-hearted to even think of such a prank. At least the area was serene enough to keep him at ease, grasses and branches swaying in the breeze and the slight shift of the sun in the sky the only indicator that time was passing.

“Where did you go, Espio…” Silver hummed as he got up in full. He wasn’t in the small cluster of trees to the hedgehog’s left, also not in the reeds at the edge of the pond he’d fallen into accidentally, nor could Silver see him hiding behind the hedgerows the time traveller had walked by so many times already. Would he really do something so mean and evil as switch spots while the psychic was searching? So far it was the only explanation Silver could think of, deciding immediately Espio would get scolded if that was indeed the case. He’d gone over every possible hiding place already, unless he was truly missing out on something… With the situation beginning to look more and more like the chameleon had flat-out disappeared instead of merely hiding himself away the hedgehog was honestly getting a tad worried now.

Contemplatively staring ahead with a deep frown on his face Silver jolted up as a very quiet laugh sounded behind him. Whirling around he thought he could make out a distortion in the air accompanied by a slight gust of wind, a single transparent leaf drifting down and landing on the path before it dissipated in full. Briskly stepping towards the movement with his hand flung in front of him Silver spread out his powers, knowing for sure that there was something there for him to detect in his mind. That leaf had been much too recognisable for it to be anything other than Espio’s… but still there was nothing there.  

Despite how confidently his walk had started the psychic slowly came to a halt when sending out his psychokinesis yielded no result, staring at the field and swaying trees in surprise. He’d seen the otherworldly happening correctly, he knew for sure… With a deep sigh he prepared his whine of displeasure, though the noise that came past his lips quickly turned into a loud yelp as something twitched against his side. Stumbling around from the surprise he launched his fist ahead in reflex, only to strike thin air. His other side fell victim to the gentle pinching immediately afterwards, and as his body instinctively turned around in reaction the squeaking hedgehog knocked himself off-balance and tumbled right down to the ground. “Ouch!”

That quiet laugh sounded behind him anew, and as Silver shook his head to get rid of the disorientation something tugged on his ear before the air shifted again and whatever was hiding behind his back began to move away. “Don’t you dare!” the hedgehog cried out as he scrambled up, unleashing his psychokinesis  before his assailant could make his escape. Quickly shrouding the area in front of him in his power he grinned in victory as he caught the invisible figure, whisking him up from the ground as he rushed over. That could be only one person, and Silver quickly pushed away his fond smile by mock anger. “You cheater!”

“Excuse me?” Slowly but surely Espio showed himself, his purple colour covered by Silver’s teal and his gaze filled with amusement. The chameleon seemed to be entirely unperturbed by getting plucked off of the ground and levitating in the air at Silver's mercy, though perhaps that was because it was one of the psychic's favourite past-times to tease him. “As far as I am aware there are no rules about hide and seek that say you can’t move around while hiding, you know,” he cheekily chided.

Offendedly the hedgehog huffed at the other’s smug smile, feeling his cheeks heat up at how affectionately Espio looked at him. “There absolutely are, you jerk. I was getting really worried about you, and instead of helping you tricked me!” Immediately afterwards he flew up also to give Espio a nuzzle, purring as the other wrapped his arms around him and pressed a kiss to his brow.

“The ninja lives to be cunning and unexpected,” the simple answer to Silver’s agitated objection was coyly whispered into his ear as the hedgehog rolled his eyes, snuggling closer to the chameleon as he slowly lowered the two of them to the clover-filled grass below in such a way he could sit in Espio's lap comfortably.

“The ninja should take into account his boyfriend more. Don’t tell me you really just went from spot to spot after I searched them.”

“Worse,” Espio laughed, and it was the most annoying yet pleasant and coveted sound Silver’s ears had ever picked up on. “I didn’t even need to hide, I just walked after you while you stumbled into the pond and scared away the local wildlife in no less than five bushes. Those poor birds will have a trauma now, as will the frogs.”

“You saw me end up in the pond and didn’t even think to help me? And don’t get all high and mighty about frogs, you don’t even like frogs,” Silver scolded him anew, giggling as Espio’s fingers skittered over his abdomen and pushed away the mock-affronted frown on his face.

“I’d have jumped in immediately if you actually were in danger,” Espio smiled warmly at him as he nuzzled Silver’s forehead. “But you’re correct about the frogs… I love you a lot more than I like those.”

“Love you too,” the hedgehog grinned back, relief setting in now that Espio was safely in his arms. “But I’m glad I found you… I really was getting worried, you know,” he admitted, though his worries dissipated immediately as the chameleon chuckled and smoothed out his quills.

“I appreciate the gesture, though I assure you that there is no need,” Espio stated affectionately with all the smugness of a chameleon who knew how to take care of himself and was more than willing to show off that tidbit of information to the rest of the world. “But if you do feel worried still, would you like to be the one who hides next, as opposed to me? I believe that’s how the game is supposed to be played anyway.”

Mulling over the offer Silver flicked his ears amusedly as an idea crossed his mind. “Hm… I think not,” he cheekily retorted, flopping down back-first into Espio’s lap in such a way the other could only get up through pushing him out. Both of them knew very well the chameleon could never muster such a heinous thing against him, and the psychic was beyond happy to make use of that knowledge. “You didn’t follow the rules, after all. So now you gotta be punished first!” he elaborated at the other’s entertained glance.

“Oh, dear.” Amusedly Espio quirked his eyebrows, his tail curling over Silver’s body. “And what kind of punishment did you have in mind for poor little old me, who only tried to humour his beloved?”

“One million cuddles and petsies,” Silver immediately demanded, his own tail wagging as Espio’s much longer one curled around his hand and clutched it close. “And not a single one less!”

The chameleon hummed in contemplation. “You mean in seconds or the collective amount of cuddles and petsies?”

“Yes.”

The hedgehog giggled as Espio laughed out loud at his silly demand, the chameleon sending him a glance that was so filled to the brim with love and affection it made Silver just about melt on the spot. “Very well, then. But you’re the one keeping count, not me.”

His purrs only intensifying Silver snuggled closer to the other, who laid down slowly in the grass also while petting Silver’s ears and grooming his quills. He probably would be unable to count either the seconds or amount of cuddles between him and Espio, though the hedgehog figured it wasn’t that important anyway. Closing his eyes as he basked in the sun and the chameleon’s presence he let his mind slowly drift, going over all the possibilities to make hide and seek just as lengthy for his boyfriend as the other had made it for him. He’d make sure to rest first now… and then it was time to have some fun.

[generallynerdy]

How could we have not seen ourselves before? (Obi-Wan Kenobi/Quinlan Vos)

Summary: “Hello,” Obi-Wan says to the little Twi’lek. “I’m Obi-Wan. What’s your name?” “Aaylas’ecura,” she declares, crossing her arms again. “You like Quin?” He blinks a few times. “Well, yes. He’s my best friend.” Quinlan beams, all happy-proud-sappy in the Force. Aayla looks between them, considering. She remembers how they smiled at each other and the way their presences were immediately twenty times brighter in the other’s vicinity. She pokes Quinlan’s chest as if he isn’t already paying attention to her. “He can stay.”

Warnings: yes the timeline is all wack no I don’t care, Wookieepedia says canon but my heart says no :), No Sith AU Word Count: 1,020

Author’s Note: Inspired by Eylle9’s comment on the first part of this (now) series! They mentioned Aayla and Anakin’s reactions to Quinobi and I physically could not help myself. I’m working on ideas for Anakin’s bit but so far I’m blanking, so have Aayla’s. Hope you enjoy! Title is from Absolute by Jacqueline Woodson.

This is a sequel to this fic, but you don’t have to read it first. Technically this happens before it, actually.

Read on AO3

*

    “Aayla, stop that.”

    The little blue Twi’lek crosses her arms fiercely as she finally-- finally-- stops chewing on Quinlan’s Padawan braid. He’d grimaced disgustedly the first time she did it, but after a few days of space-travel with her, he’s now used to having youngling saliva everywhere. Master Tholme, who has much more experience with little monsters, always snickers when she reaches for the braid.

    He’s snickering now, actually, signing off on some paperwork for Aaylas’ecura, a new resident of the Jedi Temple.

    Quinlan shoots him a glare, knowing he can feel it through their bond, then looks back at Aayla. “Are you excited to meet some new people?”

    “Wanna stay w’ you,” she mumbles, head shaking and tiny hands grasping his robes.

    He snorts. “You can’t stay with me all the time, silly. I have missions and classes.” Quinlan very nearly melts at her adorable pout. “But I’ll come visit you lots, I promise.”

    That gets him a wide, gap-toothed smile. “Okay!” she chirps.

    “Quin!”

    Quinlan’s grin almost-- almost-- matches Aayla’s. He whirls around to see a familiar, short figure with bright red hair making a beeline for them. The boy makes to hug his friend,but abruptly remembers the toddler in his arms and stops, simply using his free hand to wave.

    “Hey, Obi,” he greets. Then, he frowns. “What are you doing in the Halls? Are you hurt again?”

    Obi-Wan winces. “Um...no, it was Master Jinn this time. He actually found a creature that he couldn’t adopt.”

    He earns a glare by snickering, but ignores it. “Serves him right.”

    Meanwhile, Aayla wiggles in Quinlan’s grasp, trying to get a good look at the new person. She examines his traditional robes and his pale, freckled face with more scrutiny than a judge, eyes squinting. Then, her gaze lifts to his hair and her eyes widen.

    She points. “Your hair’s on fire!”

    Both boys laugh-- not at her, she can tell-- but Quinlan shakes his head. “It’s supposed to be that colour, don’t worry.”

    “Hello,” Obi-Wan says to the little Twi’lek. “I’m Obi-Wan. What’s your name?”

    “Aaylas’ecura,” she declares, crossing her arms again. “You like Quin?”

    He blinks a few times. “Well, yes. He’s my best friend.”

    Quinlan beams, all happy-proud-sappy in the Force. Aayla looks between them, considering. She remembers how they smiled at each other and the way their presences were immediately twenty times brighter in the other’s vicinity.

    She pokes Quinlan’s chest as if he isn’t already paying attention to her. “He can stay.”

    He cackles. “I’m so glad you approve, oh Grandmaster. He lived here before you did, genius, of course he’s gonna stay.”

    Obi-Wan muffles his laughter at the offended look he gives Aayla when she ignores him, rolls her eyes, and looks back over at the ginger.

    “Quinlan’s gonna train me,” she says. “When ‘m bigger!”

    Obi-Wan softens when he sees Quinlan’s proud little smile. “Good. You’ll keep him on his toes.”

*

    Aayla Secura certainly keeps everyone on their toes, long before she’s even left the creche. Quinlan and Obi-Wan are sure to visit her often, as they’re apparently the solution to quelling her rebellious streak, a streak which only intensifies after someone introduces her to holonovels. 

(Bant regrets nothing.)

    She’s very nearly ten years standard when she picks up on Quinlan and Obi-Wan acting weird.

    Today, they’ve convinced her to join them in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, beside one of the artificial lakes. Aayla is perfectly happy to throw herself right into the water-- Quinlan taught her to swim a long time ago-- while they sit on the edge, only letting their feet soak.

    She isn’t really paying attention to what they’re saying, but she is paying attention to them. Quinlan’s trying to get Obi-Wan to laugh and he’s doing pretty well, actually. Every time he manages a snort, his Force presence beams, creating a little bubble of joy around them that’s almost blinding. More than once a Master has paused in passing them to soak in the emotion before leaving.

    They don’t even notice. Aayla thinks they’re silly.

    It reminds her of Master Tholme and Master Saa, sort of. The Masters are better about not being a tiny sun in the middle of the Temple, but sometimes when Master Saa does something, Master Tholme just...lights up.

    Bant says they’re in love, which makes sense to Aayla. She decides that Obi and Quin must be in love, too.

    But, clearly, this is the same situation as The Dragon and the Knight, where the Knight doesn’t even realise he’s in love with the boy that was cursed to be a dragon forever. Aayla frowns. Okay, maybe not the same situation because Obi and Quin won’t break a curse by kissing. But still! They’re supposed to live happily ever after!

    Aayla huffs and crosses her arms. Then, she takes a deep breath and shouts; “Will you jus’ kiss already?!”

    Both of them jump, heads snapping around to face her.

    Obi-Wan is bright red, pulsing with embarrassed-afraid-horrified in the Force. “What?” he squeaks, as if he didn’t hear what she said.

    Meanwhile, Quinlan glares. Aayla! He shouts over their Force-bond.

    Don’t yell at me! She shouts back. He loves you.

    Quinlan’s eyes widen and Aayla watches, bouncing on her heels, as he looks back over at Obi-Wan like lovesick tooka. The ginger boy, however, is covering his face with both hands in an attempt to hide the fact that he’s turned into a space tomato.

    “Obi?”

    He makes a despairing noise, wordless and kind of hilarious.

    Reaching out with more gentleness than Aayla has ever seen him with, Quinlan grabs Obi-Wan’s hands and draws them away from his face. Still, he doesn’t get him to look up, but that doesn’t matter. Aayla cheers when he leans forward and kisses him, earning him another surprised noise. Obi-Wan is completely still for a long moment, but relaxes, his hands finding their way into Quinlan’s dreadlocks. It’s really cute, Aayla thinks, and a long, long time coming.

    She ducks her head under the water to shoot a thumbs up at Bant and Master Fisto.

*

River’s Tags: @hahaboop & @mystoragehatesme

Masterlist

[indiavolojones]

“No stake to the heart?” Diavolo asks, but it’s lacking its usual charming force. Lucifer’s nails dig into the medical bag holding the supplies.

“You woke up before I could finish whittling it down,” he says, and Diavolo’s choked laughter looks like it hurts. Lucifer hates the tight feeling in his chest, hates that he has no name that he’s willing to call it. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he brings the kit up and places it on the nightstand.

“You need blood,” he says.

alt summary: *stares at index cards* uhhh diavolo sucks the poison out of lucifer’s body and then horny vampire bite, thank you for coming. this is in the same universe as this post.

1.7kish words, uh, tentative E, vampire!diavolo/legitimate businessman ;)!lucifer

-

If the last thing Diavolo sees is Lucifer, shirt pulled up to reveal his stomach with a snarl on his face, he thinks he could die happy. 

There’s the slight, less than sexy addition of the bleeding knife wound in Lucifer’s side, stinging from an unfortunately poisoned blade, but Diavolo’s on his knees before Lucifer can protest, his lips pressed to the wound. 

“What are you–ngh!” 

Diavolo sucks down on the cut, hard enough that it hollows his cheeks and Lucifer hisses above him. There’s a moment where Diavolo thinks that he should have explained and Lucifer’s about to slam an elbow down on the back of his head for his impudence, but some poison can travel unreasonably fast and Diavolo’s not about to take any chances. 

Humans are fragile, after all. 

His hands are firm on Lucifer’s hips, holding him still, but Lucifer doesn’t shove him away. He rests his hand on Diavolo’s shoulder, smearing his blood on the other’s obnoxiously bright Hawaiian shirt (an affront to the eyes and all of mankind, Lucifer had said not four hours ago, to Diavolo’s raucous laughter), but it moves to the nape of Diavolo’s neck of all places. 

It’s surprisingly gentle, Diavolo spares a moment to think, and a pleasant thought that gets him through the abhorrent taste of Lucifer’s poisoned blood. 

He doesn’t let up until the sour taste disappears. Unwilling to let any of it make its way back into Lucifer’s open wound, he swallows it down. Disgusting, absolutely disgusting–Diavolo’s body wants to reject the bitter taste, but the sight of Lucifer, already too pale, his heart still and no light in his eyes, no proud smirk to the curve of his lips–

Diavolo cuts that thought off with a finality that only the undead understand. 

When he’s sure that he’s taken enough and that Lucifer’s natural (or conditioned, Lucifer might have mentioned something about that once) immunity will take care of the rest, he pulls his mouth away. His tongue lavishes wetly over the wound to aide in its healing process, but he feels dizzy when he tries to stand. The traitorous ground shifts beneath him, and he blinks in surprise when his ass hits the cement. Gray starts to blur in his peripherals, even when he tries to blink it away. 

“That tasted like shit,” Diavolo grins, looking up at two Lucifers. Huh. That can’t be good.

And ah, well, at least he got to see Lucifer sort of shirtless. 

Diavolo slumps back, and hopes that Lucifer doesn’t leave his unconscious body behind.

-

-

-

“No stake to the heart?” Diavolo asks, but it’s lacking its usual charming force. Lucifer’s nails dig into the medical bag holding the supplies. 

“You woke up before I could finish whittling it down,” he says, and Diavolo’s choked laughter looks like it hurts. Lucifer hates the tight feeling in his chest, hates that he has no name that he’s willing to call it. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he brings the kit up and places it on the nightstand. 

“You need blood,” he says, hands working efficiently to unzip the bag and start laying out the necessary implements. The tourniquet, alcohol swabs, gauze, gloves–Diavolo’s eyes grow wide as Lucifer brandishes a large needle. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Is it too soon? Is there poison still in my system?” Lucifer asks, unbuttoning his long-sleeved shirt and shrugging it off, looking at Diavolo with a small frown on his face. 

“No, but...” Diavolo breathes, shifting to sit up. Lucifer’s free hand shoots out to touch Diavolo on the chest. Messily, they speak over each other. 

“If you’re still not feeling well–” he says, as Diavolo’s own hand curls around Lucifer’s wrist, “I won’t do it.” 

Lucifer balks at this, too stunned by the words to dispute Diavolo’s grip on his wrist, “You’re saying no to my blood? After all this time?” He’s quickly starting to feel offended, to think that he’s here, offering Diavolo his blood, after weeks of Diavolo begging for another taste–

“I’m not saying that,” Diavolo says, stopping Lucifer’s thoughts in their tracks. His hand around Lucifer’s wrist loosens, but it does not pull away; it slides up to cover Lucifer’s hand, pressed against his chest. Lucifer blinks, not realizing that his palm had been placed over where Diavolo’s heart rests. Slipping his fingers under Lucifer’s surprised hand, Diavolo brings Lucifer’s hand to his mouth. 

Lucifer’s breath catches in his chest as Diavolo places his lips against Lucifer’s palm, pressing a soft kiss to the skin there. His gaze does not leave Lucifer’s, pale gold eyes too sharp as they cut him deeper than any knife could. 

“If I’m going to drink your blood, the only way I’ll accept it is if you let me bite you.” Lucifer resists the urge to look away, Diavolo’s voice going soft, “I don’t want you to be in pain because of me.” 

Diavolo must be hypnotizing him. There’s no way he’s not using some kind of vampiric powers of persuasion to manipulate Lucifer into wanting such a thing from a monster. 

“I want to make you feel good, Lucifer.”

Yes, that must be it, Lucifer thinks. 

There’s no other way that Diavolo could draw him in with such intensity without the aid of supernatural gifts. There is no other logical explanation for the way that he allows Diavolo to reach one shaking hand out, curl around the back of his neck, and pull him in for a kiss. 

-

-

-

Kissing Diavolo is unlike anything he’s ever experienced before. 

Though Lucifer does not believe himself to be in any danger, there’s an unshakeable thrum of anxiety at being so vulnerable towards someone that make his survival instincts scream predator in warning. While the kiss starts soft, as if Diavolo is giving Lucifer the option to push back, it quickly turns into Diavolo exploring Lucifer’s mouth when Lucifer gives silent consent into his space. After his initial bout of momentary surprise, Lucifer refuses to let himself be a passive participant, and he responds with equal fervor. 

Predictably, Diavolo is a biter.  

And yet, his kisses are far more gentle and nowhere near the level of ferocity that Lucifer expected, knowing the other’s personality. It feels like Diavolo is holding back, being actively careful with his fangs to the point that Lucifer feels a spike of irritation at the tender handling. His hand moves to also curl through the hair at the back of Diavolo’s head, roughly pulling him in deeper. 

Diavolo gasps into the kiss, Lucifer licking into his mouth and accidentally grazing his tongue against one of Diavolo’s fangs. 

The taste of iron fills his mouth, and Diavolo moans, both hands grabbing at Lucifer like he’s a lifeline. With only a moment for Lucifer to catch up, the pace of their kissing intensifies, Diavolo kicks off the covers to pull Lucifer on top of him. 

Diavolo’s hands cannot stay still, running over Lucifer’s naked torso, dragging his nails down to make bright red lines against his pale skin. Lucifer tries to stifle the gasp when Diavolo finally breaks the kiss to mouth at the skin of his neck. He cranes his neck back, baring it freely for Diavolo’s grazing teeth and worshipping tongue. 

Every time the sharp tip of Diavolo’s fangs brush against his skin, his breath catches–is he, will he–Lucifer wants to groan when Diavolo sucks on the spot instead. Lucifer will be furious with him later for the hickies Diavolo’s teasing has left, but he has other things in mind at the moment.  The rational part of him remains staunchly horrified at his desire, but the proud part of him is thrilled to have Diavolo here, to have Diavolo be so openly wanting for him. It fuels a heady sense of power within him, to have this over an apex predator.

With the element of surprise on his side, Lucifer is able to card a hand through Diavolo’s hair and yank back, pulling Diavolo’s open mouth from his neck. 

“What are you waiting for?” Lucifer demands, but he nearly stops mid-sentence when he hears the breathy quality of his voice. Diavolo makes a low growling noise, nose tucking behind Lucifer’s ear to nuzzle at the skin. 

“I am trying to be gentle with you.”

“You might be immortal, but I am not. I don’t have forever,” Lucifer murmurs, dragging his nails down Diavolo’s back hard enough to leave angry welts. Diavolo, pupils blown wide from the hint of blood from Lucifer’s mouth, gives a husky laugh. 

“Careful what you wish for,” he grins, licking his tongue over his fully extended fangs. In the next moment, Diavolo flips them over, poised over Lucifer. Lucifer’s throat goes dry at the sight, his head tilting back as Diavolo’s head dips down to where his pulse races.

Diavolo’s fangs break his skin, and the words die on Lucifer’s lips as the brief shred of pain is followed by a white-hot burst of pleasure flooding his senses. Eyes rolling back, there is no possible way for Lucifer to muffle the strangled moan that escapes his lips at the sensation. His entire body tenses in Diavolo’s arms, eyes fluttering shut as his hands scramble for purchase against Diavolo.

“Oh,” Lucifer gasps. 

Immediately, intimately aware of Diavolo sucking at the puncture wound, the flow of his blood leaving his body, Lucifer finds that he couldn’t care less. No, it is impossible to care less. 

The ecstasy curls his toes, cock painfully hard between his legs as he pushes his hips up against the firm line of Diavolo’s body above him. It is unlike anything he’s ever felt before, a white hot burn of pleasure that rushes through his veins, too much and not enough at the same time. He realizes that Diavolo could drain him right now, and Lucifer, blissed out of his mind, would be begging for it. At the action, Diavolo’s mouth pulls away from his neck, tongue lapping at the blood that pools there. 

“Fuck,” he groans, Lucifer’s head tilting invitingly to the side. Now that Diavolo’s no longer biting, the pleasure ceases to be overwhelming, instead fading to a heavenly throb throughout his body. He understands the appeal, and deep down, he understands that the apprehension accompanying it is also valid. 

“I told you should have let me bite you sooner,” Diavolo purrs, a healthier flush to his face thanks to Lucifer, licking a spot of blood off his lips. 

A fang peeks from Diavolo’s smile, glints in the low light of Lucifer’s bedroom. Sense has yet to fully return, but Lucifer can at least find some semblance of himself, grab Diavolo by the hair, and yank him into another kiss. 

[buckyskorpion]

tess brain go hnnnnnnngh

hello this is only thing ive written in like a week and its for a new fic im SORRY but i thought i would post it anyway bc i have nothing else to offer hehe. it’s the beginning of my fic for laur’s writing challenge and boy oh boy has this morphed into it’s own beast. under the cut for those who dont care

“You know she’s not going to be happy about this,” Sam says.

“She’s never happy about anything,” Bucky replies. He flicks at a photograph pinned to your corkboard, your arm around some guy kissing your temple while you grin at the camera. There’s a bunch of photos just like it with the same dude; receding hairline, squinty blue eyes, tall but skinny in a vaguely malnourished way. One photo from what looks like a Halloween party catches his interest. You have a cardboard sign hanging over your shoulders to look like a square from the periodic table, and it reads ‘AH! The element of surprise’. Nerds, Bucky thinks with a scowl, and turns away from the corkboard.

Your office is nothing like he thought it would be, and that aggravates him. It’s hardly surprising - most things about you aggravate him. You have statues of Star Wars characters on your desk, a dying pot plant in the corner, books on quantum mechanics and Deutsch propositions left open and scribbled in on the coffee table. There’s too much personality left carelessly lying around, and none of it is yours. Bucky can’t wait to get the hell out of here.

Sharon walks in first, closing the door softly behind her and shoots them both a grimace. “She’s coming, but, uh- she’s not happy about this.”

“See?” Sam says, gesturing to Sharon as if she’s proving his point when Bucky agreed with him. He turns to face Sam lounging in the armchair on the other end of the room and flicks him the finger.

“Let’s try and contain this situation, shall we?” Sharon says. She’s nervous, Bucky notes, moving to stand in the middle of the room and smoothing down non-existent creases in her slacks. She refuses to look at Bucky, and that gives him a bad feeling. “Just listen to her yell for a bit. Bucky - let us do the talking, ok?”

Sharon is still not looking at him. Bucky nods instead of replying, baiting her to glance over, which she does. She trains her eyes on his nose and gives him a frankly insulting smile of recognition, immediately turning back to the door as her face drops. Bucky’s bad feeling intensifies.

Before he can try and figure out why one of the best Agents of SHIELD and former CIA operative can’t seem to pretend everything is fine, the door to the office slams open. It bounces back, smacks you in the shoulder as you storm into the room, and you push it back again with an aggravated shout. Sam rolls his lips together to smother his laugh but Bucky doesn’t bother. You turn a murderous glare onto him, and the shouting begins.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” You march up to Sharon and jab a finger in her chest, forcing her back a step. “You gave me this job, why the hell are you coming in here fucking it all up?”

“We have some new developments,” Sharon says, keeping her voice even like she’s trying to placate a feral dog. It does not have the desired effect.

“Ever thought of picking up the phone?” you shout, throwing your hands wide. “Sending a text? A letter? A carrier pigeon? Anything but showing up to my six month long deep cover mission with two of the most recognisable faces on the fucking planet! Really, Sharon? Captain America?”

“She’s right, y’know,” Sam says, smiling through Sharon’s warning glare. “My face is pretty unforgettable.”

“It’s good to see you, Sam” you say, gritting your teeth like it physically pains you to derail your tirade for some niceties. “You should’ve left Barnes at home.”

“I offered to stay in the car,” Bucky says. He smiles, all teeth, and you poke your tongue out at him.

“Do you know how difficult it has been to be stuck here playing dumb with this bunch of incels for six fucking months?” You say, spinning away from Sharon now to open the small fridge in the corner. You pull out one of those mini bottles of whiskey and down half of it, baring your teeth at the sting. “Please don’t make it all for nothing or I will kill you all, and then myself.”

“The timeline has moved up,” Sharon says. She shakes her head when you offer her the rest of your whiskey and you shrug, chugging the remaining half. Sam makes an offended noise and you grab another one, chucking it towards him as he makes grabby hands. Bucky doesn’t even bother asking.

“That’s funny, because as far as I remember it’s me who sets the timeline,” you say. “And I say it’s staying exactly the fucking same.”

“Look, I know this has been a rough mission-“

“Rough? I am watching a bunch of psychopathic virgins reinvent time travel at a snails pace whilst entertaining their neo-nazi purist ideals and I haven’t been able to physically hurt any of them? Rough is an understatement.” you say.

“Sounds terrible,” Bucky says with an eye roll. Everyone in the room turns to glare at him.

“I’d like to see you spend one day with these scumbags,” you seethe, stepping forward with your teeth bared.

“Something tells me it can’t be any worse than having my brain fried by Nazi’s, sweetheart,” Bucky says. You hate when he condescends you like that, and Bucky knows it. You make to throw the empty mini-whiskey bottle at him but Sharon steps in-between you two, holding her hands up with a disappointed frown.

“Bucky, you were supposed to leave the talking to us,” Sharon says. She turns to you and adds, “And you would do well to remember that I’m your boss, agent. I give the orders.”

“Aw, let them fight,” Sam says from the armchair. “It’ll be fun.”

“Enough,” Sharon says. She claps her hands together to regain control of the room, but it’s tenuous. To you, she says, “We need you to speed up __________’s research. Find a way, I don’t care how, but in a month they need to figure out Stark’s theory of time travel.”

“Excuse me?” You glance between Sharon, Sam, and Bucky like someone can offer an explanation but no one does. Incredulously, you say, “I’ve been here slowing them down so they don’t figure it out, and now you want me to- speed them along? Give them the answer?”

“Yes,” Sharon says. Her eyes are saying something else to only you and Bucky aches to know what it is. “Sam and Bucky have come across some new intel that requires the _____ to finish their machine. We need you to help them get there in one month’s time.”

“Am I allowed to know this new, game-changing intel?” you ask. There’s a muscle ticking in your jaw that looks set to explode any second.

“Only that there is someone who is very interested in buying into what the ________ come up with,” Sharon says. “When you’ve completed your mission, you will be fully briefed.”

“Oh, great,” you say with an eyeroll. “I love ambiguity.”

“You’re a spy,” Sam says, staring at you. “That’s literally your entire life.”

“Can we focus?” Sharon asks, shooting Sam a warning glare to which he holds his hands up in a Gesture of innocence. To you, she asks, “Do you understand your mission?”

“No,” you say simply, turning away from Sam to have a silent conversation with Sharon that involves a lot of eyebrow movements. Softly, as if no one else in the room can hear you, you say, “You know why I can’t let them figure it out.”

Sam and Bucky share a look while the two spies in the room have some kind of telepathic argument. It doesn’t seem to last long. Once again, the bad feeling in Bucky’s gut returns when you look to the floor and don’t make eye-contact with any of them again. As per usual in Bucky’s life there are things left unsaid, omitted by silence, and he itches to know what has your shoulders rounding and the fight you always fling around like confetti, dying out as quickly as it flared up.

“The goal remains the same,” Sharon says, “but as I said, the timeline has changed. We will see you in a month or so, agent.”

“I guess you will,” you say. Sam claps you on the shoulder as he walks out and Sharon hands you a dossier with your new mission parameters. Bucky always feels awkward with goodbyes, especially with people he doesn’t particularly like and who don’t like him in return. You glare at your toes and say, “Don’t even think about touching me, Barnes.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says. He shoves his hands in his pockets as he walks past you and adds, “Don’t fuck it up.”

“You’ll know if I do,” you bite back, just as the door closes behind him. Your words follow him down the hall, past the laboratories blinking with dull red security lights and the fire exit door they left chocked open when they broke in. He doesn’t like the way that sits in his brain. It clunks around, tinkering with things he’d rather leave untouched.

Spies, Bucky thinks. They always find a way to get inside his head.

[flowerfan2]

Affinity - Ch. 11 (10.11)

McDanno, A03, 20k so far (2k this chapter)

A continuous story of season 10 episode codas.  Steve may describe their relationship as a dysfunctional marriage, but at some point, will he and Danny take a closer look at what it really could be?   (The answer is yes).

Chapter 11

Danny grins as Steve comes out of the bathroom, still damp from his shower, a pink and green flowered towel wrapped low around his waist.  This was a fantastic idea.

 “See something you like?”  Steve asks, putting a little swing in his step. “Because there’s another one in there with purple flowers.  Plumeria, I think.”

 Danny steps up close to him and runs a finger around the top of the towel, around the jut of Steve’s hipbone. “I’m pretty sure there’s an orange one, too,” he says, his still clad chest pressing against Steve’s wet skin. “And,” he says, letting his voice drop lower, “turquoise.”

 “You sure know how to treat a man,” Steve says, tilting his head to let Danny nuzzle against his cheek.

 “Now you don’t have to worry about me using up all your clean towels.  And Grace is away at school – she’ll never miss ‘em.”

 “You charmer,” Steve says.  But just as Danny tugs on the edge of his towel, Steve grabs hold.  “Nope. Go shower.  You smell like your house.”

 Danny’s eyes fly open.  “No – ugh - really?  All day and you just now said-” He’s sniffing under his arms to see how bad it is when Steve bursts out laughing.

 “No, I’m joking, stop it,” Steve says, pulling Danny close.  “You smell just fine.”

 Danny huffs, the flush of embarrassment still warming his cheeks.  “You’re an ass.”

 “I’m sorry, I am.  Come here,” Steve says, one hand low on Danny’s back, the other cupping his cheek.  “You smell great.”  Steve digs his face into Danny’s neck and inhales deeply.  “I love how you smell.”

 It should be weird, Danny thinks, but instead it’s just turning him on.  It doesn’t hurt that Steve is unbuttoning his dress shirt, kissing his way down Danny’s chest, making appreciative noises as he goes.  Steve straightens up to slide Danny’s shirt off his shoulders, and Steve’s pink towel falls off too.

 Danny can’t help but sneak a peek down Steve’s length.  He’s still every inch the Adonis.  Steve may worry that he’s not as fit as he once was, but Danny can’t find a single flaw on his toned body.

 “What?”  Steve catches him staring, but Danny has no shame about it.

 “You’re fucking gorgeous, babe. Look at you.”  Danny takes one more appreciative look, then steps in for a teasingly chaste kiss.  “You’re amazing,” he says, holding Steve’s gaze.

 “You’re not so bad yourself,” Steve says, a pleased smile on his face.  

 They make quick work of the rest of Danny’s clothes, and Steve tugs Danny into bed.  They actually made it home tonight at a reasonable hour, they haven’t been in any gunfights recently, and neither one of them has even a recent injury.  It seems like it’s too good to be true.

 They’re both getting close, Steve with his hand around Danny’s cock and Danny pulling at Steve’s, when they hear a shout from downstairs.

 Danny freezes.

 “Danny – what’s wrong?  I’m good, keep going-”  It actually makes Danny a little proud that Steve was so involved that he didn’t hear the first shout, but he hears the second one.

 “Guys, I’m here,” Junior’s voice comes from downstairs.  “Tani’s got a thing with her brother, so…  I’m, um, gonna go for a run, maybe, okay?  I’ll take the dog.”

 “Shit,” Steve says.  He belatedly stops jerking Danny.

 “A long run.  I’m going for a <i>long</i> run.  See you in, uh, at least an hour.  Bye!”

 The door slams shut.

 Danny lets out a long breath, his heart still pounding in his ears.

 Steve snorts against his shoulder, and shifts closer, his hand sliding down Danny’s body and curling around his cock again.  

 “Are you – really – you can really just?”  Danny tries to protest, but his body apparently doesn’t care at all that Junior practically walked in on them.  It’s still one hundred percent on board with the sexy Steve program.

 “I can, and I will,” Steve says. “It’s all about focus.”  Steve sucks at Danny’s collarbone, and then kisses down his chest.  “You’re so hairy.”  He pauses, nuzzling at Danny’s belly.  “Can I?”

 Danny is distracted by the way Steve’s looking up at him through his lashes, pupils dark, when he realizes what Steve is asking.  They haven’t done anything yet except use their hands on each other, and while Danny would have been perfectly fine continuing on that path for the rest of his life, he’s certainly not averse to trying something else.  

 “Okay.”

 Steve grins, and shifts around so that he’s between Danny’s legs.  Danny feels suddenly exposed, and he’s not sure what to do with his hands, but Steve lurches forward and kisses him soundly until he starts to relax.

 “We can just go back to what we were doing,” Steve whispers in Danny’s ear, lying pressed against him, heavy and warm, fingers tracing patterns on Danny’s chest.  “I’m good either way.”

 “No, it’s good,” Danny says, hips moving restlessly against Steve.  “You can keep going.”

 “Cool,” Steve says, and happily slides back down.

 Danny has a scant moment to reflect on how easy this is, how much fun, before Steve’s mouth is on him and he can’t think about anything else.  The wet heat and suction are overwhelming.  It’s not as if he’s never had a blow job before, but Steve is particularly skilled and Danny is in heaven.  

 It’s a little different, too, and all the better for it.  The scratch of Steve’s beard on his sensitive skin is something that he didn’t know he’d love until it happens, and it only intensifies his arousal.  Steve does something wonderful with his tongue, and then Danny’s coming undone in the most amazing way.  

 “Holy crap,” Danny says, when he can breathe again.

 “Had to complete the mission,” Steve says.  He smirks and butts his head against Danny’s.

 “You did not just say that,” Danny says.

 “Pretty sure I did.”

 Danny swings a leg over Steve and leans over him, grinning down at Steve’s goofy face.  He can’t really think of a come back, so he just devours him with wide mouthed kisses until Steve is breathing hard and rutting against his hip. Danny drags his teeth across Steve’s jaw, and spends a moment teasing at Steve’s ear, making him shiver delightfully.

 Then Danny reaches down, taking hold of Steve’s cock.  Danny loves the heavy feel of him.  He’s rock hard, and bucks up into Danny’s touch.  Danny figures this isn’t going to take long for Steve either, but he wants to make it good.

 Danny keeps up a steady rhythm with his hand, while his mouth travels down Steve’s chest, pausing to lick and suck at first one nipple, then the other.  Steve stifles a moan that would make a porn star proud, and Danny redoubles his efforts.  When he gives Steve’s nipple a squeeze, Steve comes with a shout, spilling hot and wet over Danny’s hand.  

 It’s too early to go to bed, so they clean up and go downstairs, Steve taking the armchair, and Danny the couch. Junior comes in after they’ve almost finished a whole episode of The Crown – he clearly meant what he said about a taking long run.  No one says a word about what Junior almost walked into.

 Later, Danny sneaks into Steve’s bedroom after Junior has gone to sleep.  

 “I really think you should have just come up with me,” Steve says, tugging at the blankets and ruining the burrito Danny was creating for the two of them.  “Junior’s got to know now.  What’s the difference?”

 “He might not know.”

 “Danny.”

 He might not, Danny insists in his own head.  Junior is really oblivious.  Danny turns over, pulling the blanket with him.  Steve grunts and gets out of bed, returning with another quilt.  

 “Should I be offended?”  Danny asks, looking back over his shoulder at Steve.

 “You’re a blanket hog,” Steve replies. “I get cold at night.”

 “We live in Hawaii.”

 “And yet, you’re a blanket hog.”

 “Okay, fine.”  Danny turns back over and presses close against Steve, his head on his chest.  “Give it.” He arranges the first blanket until it is evenly draped over them both.  “Better?”

 “Yes, Danny, it’s better.” Steve’s warm breath puffs against Danny’s scalp.  “Night, Danno.”

 “’Night.”

 Danny’s dreaming about rescuing an angry NeNe goose from a bloody crime scene when he wakes with a jolt.  Steve is thrashing next to him, clearly caught in a nightmare.

 “Hey, buddy, wake up,” Danny says, his voice rough with sleep.  He shakes Steve’s shoulder, but it doesn’t work.

 “No, don’t – you can’t – no-” Steve mumbles, and then sits straight up in bed, eyes flashing open.  “Leave him alone!”

 “Steve!”  Danny kneels in front of him, trying to catch his wide eyed gaze. “Steve, hey, it’s okay.”  Danny cups his chin and tilts his face towards his own.  “It’s okay, you’re home.  You’re safe.”

 “Commander, everything okay?” A voice comes from outside the door.  Shit, shit, shit, thinks Danny.

 “We’re good, Junior,” Danny says, heart racing.  Then, quieter, “Steve, you with me?”

 Steve’s eyes are still wide and glassy, but he slowly focuses on Danny, and his breathing begins to slow.  “What happened?”

 It’s strange to see him this disoriented.  Usually nightmares don’t hit him this hard.  “Just a bad dream, babe.  You’re okay. You’re home on Oahu, in bed with me. It’s the middle of the night. That was Junior, just coming to check on you.”

 Steve looks around the room, sees their clothes tossed together on a chair, the pink flowered towel hanging over the doorknob.  “I’m home. With you.”

 Danny sits back on his heels, and lets out a long breath.  “Yeah.”

 “Fuck.”  Steve falls back against the pillows, grabbing Danny and taking him with him.  Danny wraps his arms around him, stroking his shoulder and down his back.

 “That one really got you, huh?” Danny asks.

 Steve nods, his chin digging into Danny’s chest.  “I really could stand to go a few more years without Wo Fat coming back to haunt me. Why does it always have to be him?”

 “He’s dead and gone, babe.  You took care of that.”

 “But someone just raided Wo Fat’s leftover weapons stash, killing half a dozen people in the process.  There’s got to be a connection to Wo Fat.”

 “Wo Fat’s been dead for what, five years?  Six?”

 Steve shakes his head.  “I know, but… that set-up at the empty storage building today - that was arranged specifically to send a message to us.  It felt personal.  How does he keep doing this to me?”  Steve’s voice is a little desperate, and Danny’s heart goes out to him. He’d really like to be done with Wo Fat, too.

 He remembers Steve confessing, after an evening drinking some very fine whiskey, that he hallucinated Wo Fat when he was trapped in the sensory deprivation tank.  That was over a year ago.  The poor guy deserves a break.

 “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.”

 “Yeah, I guess.”  Steve shuffles closer, pulling the blankets back up around them.  “Sorry if I freaked you out.”

 Danny huffs out a laugh.  “It’s not the first time.”

 “I’m not sure that’s particularly reassuring.”

 “Don’t worry, you’re not gonna scare me off.  Although I think Junior was a little concerned.”

 Steve groans.  “What are we going to tell him?”

 Danny shrugs.  “How about the truth?”  There’s no way Junior doesn’t know by now, and all this sneaking around is losing its appeal.

 “Can it wait ‘til morning?”

 “Of course it can, babe.”  Danny strokes Steve’s head, and leans in to press a soft kiss to his mouth.  “Go back to sleep.”

 “Okay.”  Steve shifts a little, getting comfortable against Danny’s chest, one knee pressed against Danny’s leg.  “Danny?”

 “Yeah?”

 “I’m glad the contractors kicked you out of your house.  But,” Steve pushes up on an elbow and smiles at Danny.  “I’m pretty sure you would have ended up back here anyway.”

[peaches-of-1]

Peachtober | Day 10: Hybrid

Naga!BTS x Black!Reader

First chapter! The rest will be written in November, but for now, please enjoy the beginning of forever. Requests for moodboards and reactions open!

Even though I was the one who came to Korea after months of travel trying to find the origin of my family’s necklace, I was so tired of the king. It was clear his actions were ruled by fear. His rules and such were so harsh for the simple reason of fear. He wanted to keep the kind hearted foreigner--aka me--safe.

“Please, do not go near the rivers at night. Stay away from all caves and for goodness sake, do not go to the waterfall unattended.” He said in his outfit which I had learned was a hanbok. Rich in blue tones and emblazoned with gold.

However, I was able to get information from the help around the palace and from my few supervised trips amongst the commoners. I was no different from them other than my pallor was the same as some of the medicinal bark they tried to sell me.

Nearly 34 moons had passed since I arrived in this land. All were spent confirming what I knew. This is where I was supposed to be. The King’s fear came from the scaled beasts which roamed near those areas and were known for kidnapping its youth to eat. There were also rumors of those who bathed near the waterfall becoming impregnated with non-human children.

At least, most would appear human until they hit puberty. Others showed their scales before or after, but most hide if they even suspect they have part of the scaled beast within them. Another option for the half scaled creatures’ offspring was that the parent who birthed them sent them away or killed them before too many people knew about it.

I was going to see what was up. That is why I had gone out under the guise of washing clothing to bond with the maid--although I was treated like a royal guest--and had left the clothes basket behind once I was out of the sight of the king. I went as quickly as I could to where the “cursed” waterfall was, discarding my shoes to make sure I made less noise and could better control where I left my mark.

There was a young man wading in the water. Something was trailing behind him, but I wasn’t at the right angle to see what it was. He opened his arms and spoke the language of their elders. The ground shook but the gateway did not open.

I ducked down behind the rock and made sure the reds and yellows of my skirt weren’t peeking out.

“Human~ I know you’re there~! You are not from here and should go back. I will count to five before I start looking for you…1, 2, 3, 4--”

Suddenly a face was right in front of my own, a very handsome face, “Five. I found~you~” he had a grin on his face and…

His eyes. I couldn’t look away from his eyes. Slitted like a snake, and I wanted to look at his body and yet all my thoughts seemed to seep away

“That’s right, beautiful stranger. Look into my eyes. You came here to find me, did you not? The scaled beast in charge of cursing all the humans in the King’s Village? His pretty little palace?” He chuckled, his low voice hypnotising me as much as his eyes which started to strope in an array of green and blue. “Did you want to get cursed to? I’d be happy to help fertilize the eggs that your beautiful form carries. Give you some beautiful naga children.”

There was a heat on my chest. His movements were puzzling. Why was he wiggling so much? He had the tail of a snake and yet the torso of a human man. Was this what they were so afraid of?

“What are you doing?” I asked and reached out to him.

He pulled back and was confused, “You can speak?”

“I have a voice. What else would I do with it?” I questioned him.

Both of us looked down at the glow of my necklace. It was green and warm and intensified the moment he got closer. His face was serious now, and I felt like I had been awoken from a deep sleep.

“So, you’re the one we’ve been waiting for.” He said.

The man bowed low, his tail coiling behind him, “My name is Kim Taehyung. I am at your service, Princess.”

“Princess?” I asked.

He looked at me, “Yes. You have the necklace...and you look just like the art. How did I not recognize you sooner?”

I held my necklace. It was called the Gorgon’s Eye and had been passed down by my family for generations on end. I was the one chosen by my mother to wear this with the promise that it would protect me. It always had but never in such an important situation. After all these years... The necklace was made up of seven silver intertwining snakes around a green emerald eye.

“Taehyung?” I said his name.

His eyes met mine again, but then he looked at the ground. I followed him to the water’s edge because he moved without a word, and I was not sure what to say just yet. He was completely serious about the whole Princess thing. Yet I could never--could I?

The blue haired man looked back at me, “Please, ride on my tail and hold on tightly if you wish to know more.”

I did as told, holding Taehyung around the neck. My necklace glowed faintly as he slithered through the water, doing his best to keep me dry and above it. He spoke what I thought was Korean when hiding behind the boulder, but now knew it was something more than that. Something older and more familiar than the Asian language.

It reminded me of the song my Grandmother would sing to me, but I only recognized one word, “Home”

The cave to our left began to glow, and he smiled. We went through the entrance and it was an amazing sight.

“We are headed for the castle where I am sure you belong. Our princess has finally returned to us. What a joyous day!” Taehyung seemed in a good mood and full of light unlike a few moment ago where I had been sure he was trying to attack me.

“I assure you I am no princess.” I replied. “I am just a woman wanting to know where my family’s necklace came from.”

“Don’t worry, Princess. You will.”

“Stop calling me that. My name is Y/N!” I pouted.

The blue haired naga smiled, “As you wish, Y/N.”

The two of us soon ended up in front of a palace which seemed to have marble everywhere. The walls were decorated with natural gems. As soon as I stepped off of the blue haired being’s back, there was another young naga wiping the sweat from his face due to the hot sun. I looked at the difference between the two attractive faces.

Well, to start, the young guard had long-ish black hair and greenish yellow eyes compared to Taehyung’s blue tone. Taehyung also had green scales compared to this man’s black iridescent ones.

“Did you really fall for another human?” He asked. “No offense, ma’am. You’re beautiful, but…” Then his eyes went wide and his voice softened in reverence, “Taehyung. Is she…?”

Taehyung nodded, “Yes, Jungkook, this is our princess, but she prefers to be called Y/N.”

Jungkook bowed, “Princess! Oh, Princess Y/N. I thought I would not see you again until my next life!”

“Princess?”

“Our Princess is here?”

“A Princess?”

Soon enough, three other young snake...men showed up and were bowing to my feet. What the hell was going on? Two of them were basically entwined with one another. Dark red hair and vibrant red scales to match such a bright personality wrapped up with brown hair and baby blue scales with a bit of a sheen. They looked at me eagerly and with curiosity. Hope trailing right behind.

“Princess Y/N,” Jungkook began. “This is Hoseok and Jimin.”

He motioned to each. Hoseok was the red scaled one. Alright.

And then there was another who slowly slid out of a tree. White scales that shone rainbow in direct sunlight. His eyes too, were like sunbursts though he kept a pretty even demeanor. He hung around behind the others but was still very much curious to see the face of the one they called their princess.

“She doesn’t look like royalty. You didn’t steal that necklace, did you?” He asked, speaking in sort of a pout.

I was offended and my necklace knew this as it began to burn more brightly against anyone who dare doubt me.

He raised his eyebrows a bit out of surprise, “Ah. I see. I guess you are our Princess.” The mint haired man bowed low. “Welcome. I am Yoongi.”

There was a slight smile on his face as well.

“Where is Namjoon and Jin?” Taehyung asked.

Hoseok spoke up, “Namjoon went for a walk and Jin is…”

A beautiful tenor voice came from up high accompanied by guitar. The men all smiled fondly and then Jungkook climbed up the castle wall after shooting Jimin a devious grin with a suspicious glint in his eye. Though his stature was quite large, he barely made a sound as he slithered up the wall to the rooftop, using every groove and peg he could to keep his body elevated. The next thing I heard was a sour note and a loud voice go.

“YA!!! YOU SCARED THE CRAP OUT OF ME! How many times do I have to tell you not to sneak up on me while I’m singing? I will bite you, Jungkook. Try that again, and I swear to--”

A short moment of silence and then two adorable faces peeked over the edge.

“Princess?”

They came down and the pink haired one known as Jin rested his chin in the area between his thumb and pointer finger to size me up.

Then he reached out for my hand, and I gave it to him. He kissed it. He was very VERY handsome. Who knew that snake genes made one so good looking? Would he have been this alluring even without those genes.

“Princess. I cannot tell you how long I have waited to see you in person. I will be your extremely handsome Naga in Waiting. Ask for me whenever you need anything, and I mean anything. Call me Jin, or call me yours. I will answer to either.”

The others rolled their eyes at the charming one with a slender face.

He scolded them, “Excuse me! Don’t roll your eyes like that! Who is the oldest around here?”

“It’s definitely you, grandpa.” Said the adorable one I learned was Jimin.

“I will bite you.”

Jimin giggled and let his tail grab Jin by the waist and pull him closer, “Then do it” and showed his neck.

Jin slithered out of the hold, “I am a naga not a vampire. The neck is gross.” and shivered.

I had to say something, “I have questions. Like. A lot. Is there like a book or something I can read that will get me to know as much as you do? I have no idea what’s going on. If you knew me, I’m not fit to rule over anyone. Least of all, snake people. I’m human. I shouldn’t be ruling over things I am not.” I began to back up. This was all so much.

My back met up with the front of someone. I reached back and tried to see what it was since it was tall like a tree, and also hard. However, I knew snakeskin anywhere. I squeaked and turned around to meet dark purple eyes.

“Jungkook. Did you scare our meal? The meat doesn’t taste good when it’s scared.” His deep voice rumbled.

“She’s not that type of meal, Namjoon-hyung. Look at her.” The guard replied.

He was different from the others. His face was covered with a white mask and he was holding baskets full of vegetables and fish. Did snakes even eat fish? These ones must have.

Namjoon peered closely at me as Jin took the food from his arms, and he gasped, “My princess. You’ve arrived.” He bowed.

“Ok. Enough with the bowing. What the hell is going on?” I asked with frustration being obvious.

“You must have many questions.” He said as he took off his mask. “You must have many questions. Yoongi, Jimin, with me. The rest of you, make everything clean and beautiful. Our princess has returned to us.”

He gave me a gentle smile as the others set off to do what they were told. Both the tired looking naga and the cutesy one approached and we made our way into the building and down a few flights of stairs. They were wide and ancient, the edges chipped and rounded from decades of use. These halls were more Greek inspired than the rest of the buildings I had seen here.

I remembered Greece, when I thought you were so close learning the name of your necklace but not the power. However, I wasn’t as close as I thought. This was close. So close that I could almost taste the answers that this place held. They rested on the top of my tongue yet waited to be spoken by these nagas. Jimin gave me a small smile when I looked up at him his sky colored tail trailing behind him..

Both of these men seemed small compared to Namjoon, then again, nearly everyone did. Yoongi would not meet my eyes, looking away when I noticed him staring at me from the corner of his eye. Water dripped somewhere nearby in several places. Mayhaps this was an old cistern?

“We are here.” Namjoon said and turned to the others. “Will you two do the honors?”

Yoongi drained some of his venom into the elongated basin and then Jimin placed his torch upon it. They stepped back and motioned for me to place my necklace in the designated space. The whole place began to come to life the moment it was in the slot .I was in awe as the fire filled notches below wall paintings and such. 

“Everything we tell you is true whether you believe it or not.” Yoongi said. “However, it will be easier for us if you do. These are your answers if you’re willing to listen.”

I nodded, “I will. I will listen.”

Jimin smiled, “Good. I guess I’ll begin. That necklace you’re wearing. It has been passed down from generation to generation in your family because humans don’t live as long as humans do. It was first created by Medusa, her sisters, Lamia, and Nagas. Lamia kept it safe from humans, but soon fell in love with one. A performer.”

“My family has always been taught the arts. It really is tradition.” I whispered.

The baby blue naga smiled, “Yes. A long one that hopefully keeps going.”

“You see,” Yoongi picked up. “We’ve been dwindling in numbers and very few of the offspring we create survive past the age of 15 due to denying who they are or hiding in fear. This land used to be ours until we were attacked in our sleep and with poison in our water. We came to this spot...where we hid, where we’ve stayed.” He spoke with reverence to the dead.

I looked at him, “You were there. Weren’t you?”

He nodded.

Namjoon picked up where his friend left off, “We’ve survived mostly on hope that, one day, our princess would return to us from extinction. It has been a long time, so we have accepted that she would be mostly human. There is some of Lamia which resides in you still. Our princess that would bring the Naga and Lamia race back with the protection of a Gorgon. All the pieces are here. You’re here.”

The light finally reached the end of the hallway, where a piece of art hung. It was my face created out of snake scales. My eyes looked at all the photos. The war. The necklace. The long wait and ways of trying to create more.

“Create...more? Save you from extinction? You mean I have to…” the thought was not unwanted, just really shocking.

Namjoon replied, forcing himself to look at you although he was embarrassed,, “If you want to. I mean. We will die out sooner or later if more are not born soon, but...yes.”

“We have to mate, yes.” Yoongi said, his cheeks and ears getting increasingly red.

“How come it has to be me? I’ve heard you impregnate most anyone who comes this way.” I folded my arms.

The blonde and tall man replied, “They produce beings that are more human and can’t produce anything but human children. They aren’t you.”

I couldn’t argue with that. If my body really was made to carry half snake children, then I was the only one who could do it. Still…

“Then why mate with them at all if they can’t produce what you need in the long run?”

“Listen. Snakes have times when we can’t stop the need to breed. Not to mention, they come to us. We don’t seek them out.” Jimin nervously brushed his hair back when I turned his eyes on him. “It’s consensual. That’s one of our rules.”

I scoffed, “Then what was that spinny eye thing Taehyung did to me earlier?”

“Oh, he was going to kill you, not mate with you. That just makes sure you don’t fight back.” Yoongi said simply.

Well fuck.

“...I...I have to think this over. I spend my whole life to find out why I was entrusted with this necklace, and I’m just meant to be an incubator for snake children?” This wasn’t what I had in mind when I found the source.

“But you’ll be bringing back an entire race!” Jimin said as if this were an easy choice.

I stalked towards him, “Or I can drink myself silly, forget this ever happened, and have normal children with the King. He’s been courting me since I got here. Hell, I could even just go back home.”

The green light got more intense, and I heard the signature sound of a rattlesnake. Jimin was making it, the anger and bulbous rattle obvious. I stared him down. My glare dared him to attack me and instantly regret it. The glow of my necklace got brighter, turning the orange flames green.

Yoongi got in the middle, “Stop it, you two. She is free to do what she wants.”

“What about us, Yoongi? I want us to survive!” the small one replied. “And she wants to mate with the King? Are you kidding? That’s our enemy! His great-grandfather--”

“I know. I know, but--”

“If she was really our princess, this wouldn’t be a choice!”

That cut deep, and I didn’t understand why. “Listen here, baby blue. This is ALL new to me. I haven’t been adventuring and travelling the EARTH for the past 5 years of my life to become the baby maker to some BEAST.”

I left the room, grabbing my necklace and running back to where we came from. I grabbed the bottom of my red and sun patterened skirt and then dove beneath the waves and swam to where Taehyung had brought me in. The rock wall with a hidden door was the only thing stopping me. I didn’t know the song. I knew where my necklace came from. Now I wanted to go home. I wanted to grab my basket and--

“Work, you stupid thing!” I yelled at the now inanimate jewel hanging around my neck Get me home! At least, get me out!” I didn’t understand anything.

My head swam with thoughts. For once in my life, I didn’t trust myself. I was unsure of what to do and how to do it. I was hungry too. I ate hours ago at the castle before leaving to “wash” the clothing.

Jin zipped to my side, “Princess Y/N. What happened? You don’t seem well.”

How could I voice all that was inside of me? My stomach began to cramp with its emptiness and stress combined. He offered his hand just like before.

“Please. Stay with us for a bit longer? I’ll be making dinner soon.”

I nodded and took his hand. He guided me onto his back using his strong tail where I subsequently passed out on his broad shoulders. It was too hard to keep my eyes and body awake with everything being so overwhelming.

~~~~~

To be continued….

[blackmaylovesfries]

MX Powers Part 2 - 1st Question

Asked: Yes, by @babybee05​​, my darling!

Words: 1904

Sinopse: “How do they discover their powers & what are their individual powers” - So, this one-shot explains more about the boys’ species and what exactly are their powers and what they do.

Notices: I’m not well versed in Fairy Canon Universe so I mostly invented here. Hope I didn’t offended anyone! Also, if you have any advice, I’ll take it! Also, this isn’t really a one-shot since I had to do a lot of explanations so it got more like a topic post… Sorry to disappoint…

Masterpost

URGENT - BIRTHDAY POLL - Wonho’s B-Day is getting closer, help me!

Previous

- Kihyun:

Kihyun is a fire fairy. He and his family are from the biggest city from the Fire Clan and always lived a good life. When he was 8 years old he started to manifest his gift: Intense Five Senses. It may not sound impressive but it was actually the reason he was able to be the main vocal from Monsta X.

In the Fire Clan, the kids would be sent to the Imperial School, where they would learn about history and how to live in the clan until they were divided by their power nature to be trained more specifically. Kihyun spent 3 years at that “manners stage”, like old fire fairies call it. Everything is quite intense at that clan, that include education.

His family were already super intense, the reunions were always crazy and fun.Just like their fights were vicious, their love were stronger than anything. Kihyun surely doesn’t fall far from the tree, he liked the spotlight and when his house was full of friends and noise, even if it wasn’t him making the noise.

When he first manifested the Intense Five Senses, Kihyun was at home for a holiday. he and his mother were talking about the school while the woman was cooking. Till this day none of them can explain exactly what happened but on one second Kihyun was talking about his new friend and at the other he was at the ground.

Since then he was forbidden at the family kitchen. Well… Until he was able to control it because as soon he was able to not pass out everytime he smelled human curry he developed a great cooking skill that none of his relatives could help but to beg for him to take charge of the place. He was actually really great when it comes to mixtures and fairy culinary.

His power is actually simple but incredible. His five senses were intensified so every sensation you receive from this world he receive it 4 to 10 times stronger. Not only that but he also can make other beings feel that amplified sensations. Like how you hear his voice and see his performance.

As he grown, Kihyun were able to control how his power affected him and how it affected others. That’s why he developed the taste for cooking and doing house chores, he was able to tell when the smallest thing is wrong in the ambient and guess what combination of flavors would be better for people like Jooheon that can’t eat everything all the time.

His power is also why he was able to be the ‘mother’ of the group, since his super senses make him quite sensible to humor changes. Besides that he could experiment things and know almost instantly how the public would receive it. Kihyun was definitely surprised when Monbebe started to just kinda of love everything he did on stage.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

- Hyungwon:

Sweet Hyungwon is a water fairy. He and his family lived at a river inside the country, only having contact with others twice or thrice a year. Not that it matter since they were a happy family, always taking care of each other and having one night guests staying in their house.

Usually there were travelers that needed a place to stay in Hyungwon’s house. His parents were careful but they loved to hear the stories that the travelers told them. It was rare for his house to be empty. That was how Hyungwon discovered his gift at 11 years old.

He was busy the whole day, picking flowers and playing with his younger sibling so he wasn’t home until nightfall. Only then he discovered that his parents had a new guest. Well… an old one actually. That human had being with them a couple of times already and he was super kind to all of them. This time he was going to stay for a week with them.

The traveler had already even adapted to the family’s routine so they didn’t needed to adjust to him staying there. But this time there was something different. The human was sick. Actually it was just a cold but it was enough for influencing Hyungwon. He started to get drowsy every time he got near the man and his noise really hurted at the time.

When he complained to his father, the adult fairy took Hyungwon to a fairy doctor. It was a surprise when the doctor said that Hyungwon was super healthy and there was no problem at all. That made his father think that maybe he had developed the Healing Heart, a gift that would allow him to cure anyone he chooses to.

So, after leaving the doctor’s house, the duo of father and son went to the Big Water Fairy Library that were less than 30 minutes far from their house… Water fairies were really weird… Anyway, they found a book that helped young fairies to learn how to manipulate the Healing Heart. His father brought him and the book back and helped him to develop even more.

This gift was as pure and good as the name given. The Healing Heart really allows it’s user to heal others as they wish. But for the healing really be effective, Hyungwon needs to form a tie with the creature he wants to heal. Like a real tie. That’s why nowadays there are few peoples who are really healed by him: Monsta X and his blood family only actually.

The down side of it is that the user actually receive the pain they are healing. Like when Hyungwon is healing a cold, instead of the creature feeling pain or being uncomfortable Hyungwon will feel all of it. That’s also why he sleeps a lot, it helps his own body heal itself.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

- Jooheon:

Jooheon, like Minhyuk and Shownu, was from the Air Clan. An, again like Minhyuk, his family could turn into an animal. So, unlike Minhyuk now, Jooheon was able to turn into a caramel with black spots cat. That was why his nickname was Honey, his cat form was really like a bee.

His family did have some similar characteristics with Minhyuk’s one, like the incapacity of staying still and the recluse childhood. That’s why he just get really hype when in social situations. Their time to manifest the animal form is also the same, as soon as they can chew solid food.

The particularity of his family is that they are actually really sensible to pain. So they avoid any situations that could have them hurted or even sick. The adults are quick to teach this habit to their child so no one was really found of dangerous plays that cubs are usually down for.

Jooheon came to the human capital to join Monsta X because he didn’t thought about how he could possibly get hurt with rapping. He cried the whole night when he first fell on the dance class… Hyungwon and Kihyun have a lot of problem with he and his fear, they are mostly the ones that are always around him to help.

His cat form often influenced him in humanoid form. He loves to play with soft fabrics and chains that made small noises. Also he was always hot and ready to cuddle with anyone. Although he could be almost 10 meters tall, he could not spare with Wonho, since the oldest didn’t go easy on him like Jooheon’s mother.

His claws are able to cut through almost everything and his roar could be heard from a 40 kilometers diameter. Truly terrifying but his family was teached to fight and put themselves at risk only when their lives or their loved ones were already at risk. So although he avoid pain, he would do anything to protect his loved ones.

Jooheon’s young cat form only reached something about 20 centimeters at tops. Until he reached fairy adulthood, about 20 years old, he would always transform into a little cub everytime his other form appeared. That did not made him have a great childhood even if his parents said to him that that was normal.

He also had a lot of trouble to control his other form so even the slightest pain could make him transform when he was 15 years old. Only when he started to rap and get really into music that his control got better and better until he was able to meet Monbebes and not transform from excitement.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

- I.M:

Changkyun is a half water fairy, he was half human half fairy. He lived with his family in a small pond near the ocean. That’s why he could actually speak several languages and was quick to learn new things. Near his house was an mermaid village that were always helping travellers to reach mainland. There were always people coming and going so he learned a lot.

That was also why Changkyun was never lonely, even seeing other fairies only once or twice a year. Since he and his family lived far from everything, his mother almost never took him to season meetings besides the extremely officials ones. They didn’t wanted him to suffer so they stayed near a race that simply didn’t care that he was a hybrid.

He was almost 13 when he finally received his gift. His family were euphoric. Although most of the late manifested gifts were ordinary ones, they wanted Changkyun to feel special and equal to his older brother that had developed God’s Rhythm at 5 years old. Not that Kyun cared about it but he is still really thankful for his parents efforts.

When Kyun turned 13, his father took him to the mermaid village, where he could choose a present. Changkyun was looking around, holding his father’s hand, when suddenly he felt a strong sensation of pride. It was not a emotion he would have, not at 13 years old, although he could compare the emotion to when he was able to win a compliment from his father. 

So he did a test. Yes, Chang was smart like that. He let go of his father’s hand and noticed that the sensation passed. Then, he took it again and the sensation was back! Smiling and jumping from excitement, Changkyun described to his father what was happening and asked him what he was so proud of. His father laughed and gently said “Of you, growing up to be so shiny.”

Then Chang discovered that he had manifested Absolute Perception. It allowed him to feel the emotions of the creature he touched. Since then, he started to control it enough so no one in this universe could hide their real emotions and intentions from him. He could tell just with a high five if the fan was a true one or not.

That was why he loved Monsta X right away, although they did have prejudice on the beginning he could see that they weren’t bad inside. They just needed time. He also used his talent a lot on tours to take care of his members mental health. He is so close of them now that he just need to be around them to read their emotions.

While when you can control Absolute Perception nobody can hide anything from you, when you are untrained powerful people can actually manipulate the Perception so it can’t say what is true and what is false, so you can be fooled easily if you’re not careful.

❤♫❤♫❤.•*¨`*•..¸♥☼♥¸.•*¨`*•.♫❤♫❤♫❤❤♫❤♫❤.•*¨`*•..¸♥☼♥¸.•*¨`*•.♫❤♫❤♫

Hi!!! So, I hope you enjoyed!!! I also hope that more questions come... If not, maybe I do the one-shots later anyway... Well... Thanks for requesting ( @babybee05​ ) and for all of you for reading!

[random-fanfics-101]

There’s Just Some Things You Don’t Understand

Peter Parker x reader

By: random-fanfics-101

Note: this is my first ever Peter Parker imagine thingy so bear with me! It got pretty long.

—————

She woke up. Again. For the twelfth night in a row. She just couldn’t take it. She couldn’t take his absence. She couldn’t go on without him.

She let her tears begin to fall, choking back her sobs as to not make too much noise. She held a hand over her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut, thinking maybe, if she just wished hard enough that it hadn’t happened, maybe everything would be okay again. Maybe she would wake up in the morning, Peter next to her, happy as can be.

She let her hand fall from her mouth to her stomach, gently caressing it like she had done so many times before in the last 4 and a half months. She tried so hard to not let any more sobs pass her lips, fearful of waking Peter, but she couldn’t contain her sobs anymore.

Peter quickly stirred awake, rubbing his sleep-deprived eyes and sitting up. He carefully placed an arm around her body and pulled her to him, holding her close to his chest. She was in his lap now, hands firmly pressed against his chest, nails digging in slightly. But he couldn’t feel it. It was hard for him to feel anything at this point. He was just... lost.

“I-I can’t..d-do it... Peter,” she mumbled into his chest, her tears soaking his bare skin. His droopy eyes flew open and he squeezed her tighter. She had never said that before, and he’d read about what late-term miscarriages could do to a mother’s mental state. “I... j-just c-an’t do it.”

“Don’t say that, Y/n, we’ll get through this,” he whispered into her hair. “You can do it. I promise.”

“B-but I need him, P-Peter. I-I can’t go on a-anymore without him...” her sobs got louder and her tears intensified. His chest was basically soaked, as it had been every day and night for the last two weeks. He was tired. They both were. But sleep was impossible to achieve at this point.

“I know, Y/n, I know. But you’ve gotta trust me, okay?” His brows furrowed as he nuzzled his face into her shoulder, trying his best to comfort her. Usually, he was very good at it. But this was something even he couldn’t understand. This was something even he couldn’t fake-smile his way through.

“W-why did it h-ave to be hi-m? W-why did it have to b-e ours,” she looked up at him, her eyelashes heavy with tears, nose bright red, face blotchy, and eyes full of... pain. Sorrow. Fear. Blame.

He hated it.

He hated it so much.

He looked down as he felt his own tears begin to well up. He wanted to stay strong for her. He really did. But he just couldn’t anymore.

He looked down as he let out a sob, letting the tears he’d been holding in since last night finally spill free.

No matter how hard Peter tried, he couldn’t get him off his mind all day. All he thought about was him. How he was supposed to hold his tiny hands. How he was supposed to change dirty diapers. How he was supposed to cradle his son till he fell asleep when he cried in the early hours of the morning.

And now he would get none of it.

He’d never get to hold his son.

Or see his first smile.

Hear his first cries.

Look into his little eyes and know everything would be okay.

He got none of it.

“I-I don’t know, Y/n. I don’t know,” her heart broke even more at his words. Not the words themselves, this was a pretty routine conversation at this point. But she cried at the helplessness in his voice. The way he tried to strangle back his crying, only to result in choked sobs that came out as voice cracks. He sounded so broken.

She laced her arms underneath his and squeezed him tight, thinking maybe if she showed him enough love, she could take away his pain. Peter did the same to her, with the same goal in mind. But they knew their attempts were futile. Hugs couldn’t fix hearts this broken. Only time could do that. And at this point they both wished desperately to find some sort of fast-forward button.

“I-I just want my b-aby. I j-just want our s-son,” she bawled harder now, pressing her face into the crook of his neck, and he mirrored her actions.

“M-me, too,” he gasped.

“I-I don’t know what to d-do witho-ut h-him, Peter. I d-don’t know what to d-do,” she shook her head helplessly, her hands shaking as they found their way into Peter’s curls.

“I-I don’t e-either,” he wept, the t-shirt of his she wore now wet with salty tears. They could only cry. There wasn’t anything else they could do.

“I-it’s my f-fault,” she mumbled, just barely loud enough for Peter to hear. He pulled her back by her biceps, probably a little harder than he should’ve, but loosened his grip once he realized it.

“Don’t ever say that, Y/n. Don’t you dare,” he shook his head. “This is not your fault. Not even a little bit. It... it just wasn’t meant to be.”

“Then why does it hurt so much?” Her head hung low as more tears fell from her eyes. “Why can’t I have my boy?”

He didn’t know what to say. There wasn’t anything he could say. He simply pressed his forehead to hers and sobbed with her. He silently hoped to himself- in the morning, everything will be okay. In the morning, it will be better.

But it didn’t.

The second the two would open their eyes, sore and bloodshot from crying, they would just wish they could’ve never woken up. The same cycle was repeated daily. Wake up. Choke down a scrambled egg or two. Occupy yourself with house chores. Avoid the nursery at all costs. Go to bed. Cry. Wake up. That’s all they ever did anymore.

People were starting to wonder where Spiderman was. And so was Peter.

“You should go out today, Peter,” he heard her behind him. He turned, letting the red and blue fabric in his hands fall back onto the bed. He shook his head lightly, turning back to it.

“I can’t leave you here alone,” he said, more to himself than his wife.

“You have to start going out. People are starting to worry,” she said, walking up behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist, pressing her face into the back of his shoulder to give him kisses.

“They can worry all they want. You come first,” he mumbled, closing the case. She only squeezed him a bit harder, trying not to let any tears fall.

“We’ve got to drink some water or something. I think we’re getting dehydrated,” she whispered.

“I don’t doubt it. My head is killing me,” he turned to hold her. Her head went to his chest, like it always did. Even though he didn’t think he was tall enough to make her feel it, she always felt safe with him anyways. He kissed the top of her head, wishing so badly he could just take her pain away. He knew it would be at least two years before they tried again. Even though he wasn’t super eager to try again, he still wanted a family with her.

“Let’s go,” she said, softly grabbing his hand and dragging him to the kitchen. His son still crossed his mind, her gentle touch reminding him of the way a baby wraps their tiny fingers around your own. He felt tears prick his brown eyes, but blinked before they could escape.

“It’s gonna be a long time, Peter. It’s okay to cry,” she said, playing with the hem of his sweater as she looked at his glossy eyes. He wrapped an arm around her, the other resting on the counter, nuzzling himself into her neck as they cried in the kitchen.

•••••

It was painful. It was miserable. It was the most abhorrent torture their minds, hearts, and souls had ever endured. But they did it. And a year and a half had passed. They went on with their normal lives, Peter working in his position at Stark Industries and web-slinging around Queens, her working in her office with her graphic design clients, though she couldn’t focus on her work.

She was late, exhausted, and nauseous beyond belief. 4 tests had confirmed that she was pregnant again, yet she couldn’t decide if she was happy or terrified. She’d been down this road before and she didn’t know if she could do it again. Well, actually, she was 100% sure she could do this again, but she wasn’t sure how Peter would react. What if he didn’t want her to be pregnant again? What if he wasn’t healed as much as she thought and it destroys him? What if he leaves?

She waited quietly for him to come in through the window, excited for him to see the surprise she had for him.

*tap tap tap*

She looked to the dining room window, quickly getting up and unlatching the bottom. Peter, throwing his mask onto the table, lifted it quickly, pushing himself into the house and closing it again. He leaned in for a kiss but stopped halfway- quickly closing the blinds.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled him close and kissed him more passionately than ever. He froze for a second, taken aback, but nonetheless kissed back, letting his hand travel to the back of her neck. She pullled away breathless, and quite frankly, scared to death.

“Jeez. Does this suit really make my ass look that good?” He chuckled, earning a small giggle from the love of his life.

“Well, it does, but that’s not why I’m so happy to see you,” she smiled, pushing herself up onto the counter.

“Oh really? Then why are you?” He smirked, placing his hands on either side of her.

“Go get your normal clothes on and I’ll tell you,” she said, giving him a quick peck on the lips. He smiled and gave a Kurt nod, walking to the bedroom. She slapped his ass as he turned around, earning a fake offended face from her goofy husband. He followed up with a chucked and was soon back in the dining room, jeans and a gray v neck securely on his body.

“Alright, so what’s my present?” He beamed, pressing his hands on either side of her on the counter. She wound her arms around his neck, hands finding their way to his hair, like they always did. He pressed his forehead against hers, making her decide to close the gap between them.

The kiss was sweet, loving, and a little bit scared on her part. He pulled back, a smile still plastered on his face.

“Seriously, why are you so lovey?” He chuckled. She groaned, letting her head fall back.

“It’s in the oven,” she spoke quietly. He quickly pulled his hands off the counter and went to the oven.

“If you made me a cake, I am going to make you the happiest woman in the world tonight,” he said, opening the oven door. He looked in, quite confused. He glanced at his wife, who was blushing and grinning, still sitting on the countertop.

“It’s not hot or anything. You can just grab it with your hands,” she said, earning a small nod from him before he grabbed the small, heart-shaped cake pan. He set it carefully on the stovetop, analyzing it carefully. In the pan was a small dinner roll, a white ribbon wrapped around it and elegantly tied in a bow.

“It’s uhhh...” he wondered to himself. “It’s a bun?” He turned and looked at her, her smile still very evident on her face. He tried to keep himself from smiling at her, but barely could. “What? You look like you’re just waiting for me to figure it out. Just tell me!”

“Well, where was the bun?” She smirked, glancing between her hands in her lap and the loveable man before her. He looked back down at the peculiar pan.

“Well it was in the-” his face dropped from a smile into surprise. She couldn’t tell if it was the good kind of surprised or the bad kind. He stared down at the white ribbon, gaze flickering between the bow and his wife. “There’s a bun in the oven?” His voice was so quiet, it was almost a whisper. His head snapped over to look at her, eyes lingering down to her stomach.

She nodded lightly, scared of his reaction. She could feel her heartbeat in her fingertips. She twiddled her thumbs to try and keep her hands from shaking. She bit her bottom lip as she looked between her hands and Peter once again.

“There’s a bun in the oven?” He said again, more to himself this time. A confused, pondering, and maybe a little agitated (?) look crossed his featured, eyebrows knitting together and forming that cute little crease right above the bridge of his nose. As quickly as they’d lowered, his brows raised. His eyes seemed bright now, he looked at Y/n, a smile slowly forming on his face. “There’s a bun in the oven!” He said gleefully.

He took the two steps to his wife and grabbed her off the counter, her arms sticking to her sides as he held her happily like a little girl holding her favorite stuffed animal. He cautiously lowered her, making sure her feet were firmly on the ground before letting go. He dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing his forehead to her lower abdomen.

“We’re pregnant,” he whispered, pressing his lips against her and squeezing her tighter- but not too tight. She smiled and ran a hand through his hair, letting the other rest on his arm that was draped around her waist.

“We’re pregnant,” she repeated.

•••••

Her screams echoed through the room as she squeezed his hand tighter than ever before. He was pretty sure it was broken- there is no way the bones in his hand could survive that. Not even if he had superpowers.

He pressed his lips against her temple, not paying attention to the sweat that covered it.

“You’re doing great, baby, just keep holding on,” he spoke softly.

“It hurts so bad Peter,” she whimpered, shoulders relaxing as the painful contraction slowly faded away. “Please make it stop!” Her voice slowly rose with every syllable as another contraction rippled through her body, feeling as though there was a needle pricking the end of each nerve she had.

“I wish I could, Y/n, you know I do. You’ve just gotta pull through, okay? We get to meet our little boy if you get through this, you can do it,” he whispered, pressing light kisses all over the left side of her face. She let out another helpless cry, more tears making their way out of her eyes. He didn’t mind the pain going through his hand and shooting up his whole arm anymore. It was the least he could do.

“I-I don’t know if I can do it, Peter,” she cried, relaxing again as the contraction weakened.

“Yes you can, you can do it. Baby, I know you can,” he gave her a light smile as the doctor entered the room. Y/n was so used to her coming in to check how far she was that she barely noticed, her eyes still locked with Peter’s.

“Mrs. Parker?” The blonde woman said, causing them both to look at her. “You’re gonna have to get ready to push soon. I’m just going to go get a little assistance and we’ll get to it, okay?” She asked, earning a nervous nod from Y/n.

“Thank you,” Peter smiled at her before she turned and left.

“Peter I can’t,” she sobbed, squeezing his hand again as another contraction made her insides feel like they were burning. You’d think she’d be getting used to it after 9 hours, but they were only getting worse.

“Yes you can, Y/n. You can do it. You’ve got to,” he whispered, giving her cheek a long kiss. She nodded, trying to convince herself she could. Right as she was wishing this was all over and she was holding her baby boy, the doctor came back in with 3 other nurses and Peter’s friend Harry (picture Harrison in the roll of Harry Osborn), who was almost more excited than Peter to meet the little one. Almost.

“Okay, Y/n, it’s time to start pushing, okay?” She said as Harry came to her side, grabbing hold of her other hand.

“No, no, no. I can’t. I’m not strong enough,” she cried.

“Y/n, you’ve put up with Peter for 7 years now. You’re strong enough to bring your baby into the world,” Harry said, trying to lighten the mood just the slightest bit, and failing. However, he did move Y/n to bravery.

“O-okay,” she said. “I think I’m ready.”

“Okay, hun, on the count of three... one... two... three!”

Y/n’s scream filled the room as she crushed both Peter and Harry’s hands, back arching because of the pain. She threw her head back against the pillow, chest heaving. She’d never felt this exhausted in her whole life.

“Great job, Y/n, you’re going amazing. Let’s go again, okay?” She waited for Y/n to nod before counting down. “One... two... three!”

She let out another scream and collapsed after about 10 seconds, another, smaller scream taking over after she’d stopped. Suddenly, all of the pain, exhaustion, and tears of agony stopped when she saw her beautiful little boy, his arms and legs wiggling about as he cried. Her breath hitched, as did Peter’s. It was his turn to squeeze her hand.

The doctors asked Peter to come over, handing him a scissor-like object and instructing where to cut the umbilical cord. He smiled as he went back to his spot next to his wife as they began to wipe the waxy substance from their child.

“You did it, Y/n, you did it!” Harry smiled, kissing the woman on the cheek. But she was unphased by it, watching as they cleaned her baby up, placing it on her chest.

She let her fingers run over the back of his head as he wailed against her. She’d never seen such a beautiful sight, and never heard such a wonderful sound. His crying weakened as he felt her run fingers against him, his tiny hands balling up into fists as he realized he was with mommy again.

“He’s so gorgeous,” Peter said, just above a whisper. She could only nod, not able to stop the tears that were rolling down her cheeks. Finally. What she’d wanted for three years. She finally had her son. Not the one she had wished for so badly two years ago, but the one that had saved her from her own misery. She looked down at him, careful to not let any tears fall on his tiny head, thanking God for giving her this gift. For finally giving her her little boy.

His crying had ceased and she still sat speechless, staring down at the tiny body that was laid against her own. He whimpered quietly as she wrapped her arms around him, looking at the tiny features he had. She finally let her head fall back, breathing a sigh of relief as she realized he was real. He was here. She wasn’t dreaming like she feared she had been. One of the nurses came over again, taking hold of her baby gently and taking him just a few feet away.

They took his measurements-weight, length- and cleaned him up the rest of the way, wrapping him in a soft, blue blanket and placing a tiny blue hat on his head. Y/n held her arms out needily, eyes never leaving their boy. The nurse thoughtfully placed him in her arms, and she carefully brought him close to her chest.

“He’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Harry whispered, resting his elbows against the side of the bed and leaning over to stare at the infant.

“He really is,” Y/n’s voice cracked as she spoke, more tears leaving her eyes. She’d never been this happy before in her life, and Peter obviously felt the same.

“Our wedding day was great and all but this makes it seem like it was just an average day,” Peter whispered, gingerly pressing his nose against his son’s little head, inhaling the new-baby smell deeply, an aroma he’d feared he’d never get the chance to smell. Tears pricked his eyes as he finally realized he was here. His baby boy. His tiny little son.

“He’s so perfect,” Y/n whispered, her eyes still glued to her son. Peter tore his eyes away from their little bundle of joy for a second to look at his beautiful wife, who somehow could still smile after 9 hours and 21 minutes of almost unbearable pain. Who could still weep tears of joy after all the heartbreak she’d been through.

Harry quietly got up, saying he would come back in awhile. “You two need a little alone time with your boy. I’ll be back in about an hour,” he smiled, quietly leaving the room.

She lifted him up to her, resting her lips his forehead, causing him to let out a choked grunt. “My beautiful baby boy,” she whispered, more droplets escaping her eyes. “I love you so much.”

Peter absent mindedly let his fingers trail up and down his son’s cheek, quietly enjoying the soft, tender skin. The couple’s hearts almost stopped when he yawned, tiny lips curling into an O. His eyes slowly opened, dark irises immediately connecting with Peter’s. Y/n could hear Peter’s breath stop, a smile spreading on his face as his son’s tiny mouth opened, looking at his daddy almost in awe before breaking into the tiniest smile they’d ever seen.

“First smile,” Peter whispered, the tears in his eyes finally spilling over the edges. Y/n’s tears followed, feeling the most happiness she had ever felt in her life. Her baby smiled at his daddy, and that tiny gesture meant so much more to her than she had ever thought it would.

After about two minutes of just staring at the little baby, he started to cry again. Instinctively, y/n pulled down one sleeve of her medical gown and fed him, making his crying cease immediately. Peter still couldn’t take his eyes off of him.

“What should we name him?” Y/n asked. They’d talked about names during the pregnancy, but they could never find one that was just right.

“Well... I was thinking... Tony,” Peter said, carefully moving his eyes from his son to his wife, scared to see her reaction. She only smiled, eyes still on her son.

“Tony Benjamin Parker,” she whispered, causing Peter’s eyes to light up. “I like it.” She stared up at her husband, the right side of his mouth curling into a smile.

“Tony Benjamin Parker it is, then,” he pressed his lips against hers, both of them quickly pulling away to look on at their tiny bundle of answered prayers.

[lorewytch]

Authors Note: OH boy here we go...I’ve been juggling with the idea of posting this for a bit now. Half of me wanted to wait until I either wrote a first part of this...maybe until I posted the rest of my fanfiction. But, I figure I might lose the drive. I was happy with the amount of people liked those fanfic ideas I had posted and I know at least one of you expressed wanting to read this. If I get too much negative feedback on this I may take it down..not sure yet. I’m not ready to post it on AO3 or Fanfiction.net. But...I figure here might be okay. So, story time: I listened to this song a while back and had a great idea for a battle scene with my fan character Lore. She’s joined of course by Webby, Scrooge and the gang and I tried really hard for the action to match the music but as such, a muse gets away from you and this became MUCH more than just a battle scene. I’m thinking of writing another version of this to where its just a battle scene. But I’m not sure yet. So what I suggest is because it has quite some dialogue mixed in as well as action description is listen to the song first. Then read the fanfic. Doing both together will hurt your eyes trust meeeeee ow..I tried so many times lol. I can’t read that fast. Also if you saw my previous posts it will show what the enemies look like in their duck forms. There’s quite a backstory behind this. I won’t give all details but Lore is a dimensional witch able to travel between worlds at will. But like all magic there are limits to what she can or cannot do. One of the biggest no nos she can make is staying in one world for too long. But she found herself falling in love with Duckburg and the Ducktales world. She has 3 main big bad guys after her. This is more or less a climatic scene after they found her in the Ducktales world. For more info on each villain I suggest looking at a few of my previous posts. ^^;;;; I hope you guys enjoy this...Don’t worry I will be working on my other fanfics much more than continuing this. Lore out!

Fanfic: Getting Stronger

Lore froze.

Footsteps echoed behind her as three people approached. She quickly herded the kids and began to run. “Webby take the boys and run.” Lore whispered frantically, glancing behind her and finally seeing the entrance of the cave come into view. “Go!”

“Wait, what about you?!” Webby grasped onto her hand and Lore blinked. She smiled kindly down at Webby.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be okay.”

“Yeah but those guys looked pretty dangerous!” Dewey frowned, glancing behind Lore as slowly they came into view. One woman and two men appeared. Lore stood and faced them, her long pink locks floating gently from the wind.

“Go now.” Lore ordered, facing the enemies….her enemies. “Kids I’m serious, find Scrooge and Beakley and run.”

Louie and Huey each were grasping Webby and Dewey’s hands, the two looked so unsure.

“Found you Loreeeee..” the woman said with a maniac smile. It gave Dewey the shivers and suddenly he wondered if they were out of their league. The woman’s black hair was scattered around her face and fuzzy in most places. Yet it had the strangest color, black with white dots? No….Webby’s eyes widened as she realized those were stars within the gray feathered ducks black hair. Her olive green long overcoat reached her knees and was open to reveal a simple black tank top and pants. In her hand she held a scepter with a green crystal at the top.

“Indeed.” A male duck approached. His light gray hair settled on either side of his bill. His detective hat at first blocked his eyes from view. His sharp navy blue jacket and lighter blue buttoned undershirt with the open collar seemed a bit on the singed side. Almost as if it hadn’t been washed in days. Similarly, his dark gray pants also had the same fate, covered in dirt. He held a cane in one hand and pressed the tip near his boots.

“Why are you here?!” Lore stood with her arms out.

The final male smirked menacingly and pointed to her. “It was easy to see you were hiding in a world. Guess we found out which one….now I think its time you met your fate my dear…”

Much buffer than the other two ducks, his chest was huge compared to the small blood red open vest around his shoulders. His white top matched his white feathers almost perfectly. His well kept pale hair slicked back like a greasers. His red pants also were pretty tight against his frame and the red gloves he wore completed his rather ridiculous look.

“I thought I had taken all of you out for good.” Lore whispered.  “Noir…” She looked at the green clad duck.

“Detective Mulgadget..” she glanced at the duck with the hat.

“Agni..” was to final white and red duck.

Noir chuckled and smirked at her.

“My return is a mystery Thought you had control of me  I'm offended that you're so surprised.” Her snide tone made Lore’s eyes narrow.

“That first defeat was a practice round  But I pulled myself off the ground And I've already planned your demise.”

She pointed to Lore, and as the others sang the two men began to walk circles around the group of kids and Lore on opposite sides.

“What is with bad guys and singing?” Louie grumbled.

“I won't stop fighting cause I'm not done yet You're gonna regret This time I won't let you forget.” Mulgadget stated, walking to Lore’s right. He was looking at the ground as he walked, steps keeping in time with the tempo. She kept an eye on him briefly before turning to Angi who was circling the other direction.

“You're not gonna get away this time I'll strike when you're blind You'll awake just to find you are mine.” Clenching a hand into a fist at the last line, he leered evilly at her. Gritting her bill she looked around her as it seemed as if the song was getting more intense.

She clutched at the heads of the four ducklings at her feet and held them close as the others were circling them like vultures. This was bad, she had to get them out of this before.

“You thought you won Thought the battle was over” Angi once again sang, stopping firmly behind her. She glanced back.

“But I-“ the white duck’s eyes flashed red.

“I” The woman began to glow a bright green.

“I” Mulgadget pulled out a gun.

“I’m just getting stronger!” Noir began to glow brighter.

“Enjoy your freedom

It won’t last much longer” The duck with the gun pointed it at Lore.

“Cause I” Agni stopped.

“I” Noir moved closer.

“I” Mulgadget fired the gun and it scraped her cheek as the bullet passed. She just stared.

“I keep getting stronger!” Noir fired off a blast of green energy towards Lore, who bat it away easily with her bare hand.

“When the sky turns to gray

When the light fades away” Agni’s hands suddenly exploded into flames causing Webby and Dewey’s bills to drop.

“You’ll see” Flames of black and green energy licked at her hands.

“I just keep getting stronger” Agni and Noir harmonized, both of their hands blazing.

“You can try to prepare ………Or attack if you dare” Mulgadget shrugged with a smug look.

“I don’t care, because I’m just getting stronger!” Noir’s power exploded and Lore quickly threw up a shield around herself and the four frightened kids. A crash of green and black energy slammed against the shield, nearly displacing Lore’s feet. She was pushed back a bit, but she held her ground with the purple energy surrounding them all. Glaring fiercely at the group as they continued to sing, she turned to the kids. “Please….run now!” And four sets of frightened eyes glanced up into her own. Huey looked at Louie and the two nodded. The duo then touched Dewey and Webby’s arm and then Huey and Louie made a break for the cave entrance.

“I” A blast of energy from a gun pierced her shield and grazed Lore’s arm.

“I” Noir threw a blast of pure white and green energy at the shield trying to break through.

“I” Angi slammed a fist against the shield.

“I’m just getting stronger!”

Mulgadget fired again, this time the blast hitting right through her arm.

“I” Letting out a cry, Lore glared.

Webby was looking around for something to shield them from the blasts of the gun.

“I” Noir released another blast of pure energy against the shield.

“I” Angi slammed his fiery fists at the shield, a crack forming. He continued to blast it until it seemed like the entire shield was on fire.

“I’m just getting stronger” Noir took a step towards them. Lore took a step back.

“Cause I,” Webby saw a flat rock the size of their head and grabbed it.

“I” Another blast of fire energy hit the shield hard.

“I” Dewey took a fighting stance on Lore’s right, glaring at Mulgadget.

“I’m just getting stronger!” The blast of energy intensified from Noir.

“I” Mulgadget fired a couple more times and this time Dewey and Webby were ready with a piece of rock. They used Webby’s amazing abilities to block the blasts.

“I” They could hear a crunching noise

“I” Agni broke through.

“I’m just getting stronger!” He ran towards her, fiery fist raised. Lore gasped and momentarily released the shield. Only for the energy to blast into her body. She formed a shield once more but was much weaker at this time.

Lore grit her bill against the onslaught of magic and energy zapping at her from all sides and she tried desperately to hold out with the two younger kids holding onto her purple dress. Webby was glaring at them all, wanting to fight but Dewey’s hand on her own kept her grounded. Even she knew she might not make it out of that alive. All they could do was wait for the other two to get help from Scrooge and the others. Finally Lore let out a yell and flung her arms out wide, the shield rapidly growing and knocking hard into the three villains and knocking them into various walls. Lore hit her knees, struggling to breathe and wincing at the slight pain of a wound in her right arm.  Shield dissipating, she almost passed out. The dust started to settle and she looked at the two ducklings with a small smile.

“Lore are you okay?” Webby looked worriedly at her.

“I’m fine…..but you guys really need to go.” She chuckled. “Although I’m sure that is falling on deaf ears now huh?”

Dewey glared at the trio of enemies. “How do we stop these guys?”

The sound of rocks shifting. All eyes were now on three dark forms slowly rising as if from their graves.

“Oh no..” Dewey got into a fighting stance again.

“I am the nightmare that replays in your head I am the shadow lurking under your bed.” They all sang together. Lore took a step back and pulled the two next to her once more.

“And when I lose it's never really the end You should have known I'd have a plan for revenge.” Slowly Lore’s arm raised and panting, she materialized a long wand in her hand with a clear crystal on top.

“Looks like I don’t have a choice anymore…” smiling weakly down at the two kids, she wondered if briefly if she could protect them.

“And I won't stop fighting cause I'm not done yet You're gonna regret This time I won't let you forget…” Suddenly Lore heard her name and she glanced back, surprised to see…well everyone there. Scrooge, Beakley, Launchpad, Donald, Louie and Huey who were standing back a bit.

“You're not, gonna get away this time I'll strike when you're blind You'll awake just to find, you are mine”

“Quick, take the kids and run.” Lore pushed Dewey and Webby over to Scrooge and Beakley and then turned back, using her wand as a shield as Agni threw a punch of fire at her. She knocked him away and swung her wand in a sweeping motion, a blast of purple energy pushing back the foes, knocking Mulgadget’s gun from his hand.

“You thought you won, Thought the battle was over” Mulgadget attacked from behind, cane ready only to be blocked by Scrooge’s cane. Lore’s eyes widened at this.

“But I” Mulgadget knocked Scrooge away.

“I,” Noir began to float.

“I,” Agni attacked Beakley.

“I'm just getting stronger.” Mulgadget and Noir charged Scrooge and Lore at the same time.

“Enjoy your freedom,  It won't last much longer” Careful not to get burned, Beakley punched the white duck in the chest and smirked as she watched him slide back in pain. His expression turned murderous as his red eyes flashed.

“Cause I” Charging once more he faked a few punches and kicked Beakley into the cave wall.

“I” A wand and scepter clashed.

“I” Scrooge was pinned against the other wall.

“I keep getting stronger!” Having enough of this, Lore’s wand burst in a purple light, blinding everyone and she took this chance to kick Noir in the chest. Quickly her vision darted as she blasted Mulgadget away from Scrooge and knocked her wand on Agni’s head.

“Scrooge what are you doing?” Lore asked the old miser, watching him stand up and preparing for action again.

“Ahm protecting mah Family.” Scrooge grumbled, shooting the teenage girl a pointed look.

Blinking, she glanced down and then towards the enemies before back to Scrooge. “Than take them and go! These guys are only after me! Look I’ll distract them and-“ suddenly she felt a hand grasping her dress and glancing down, she saw Webby holding a very determined look in her eyes.

“Uh oh, you know what that means don’t you?” Dewey commented, walking to Lore’s other side.

“Looks like Webby considers you her big sister and you know what that means?” Louie’s grin widened as he leaned against Webby’s back.

“When the sky turns to grey When the light fades away You will say, I just keep getting stronger!” Letting out a scream, a blast of three energies slammed into Lore, knocking her off her feet and into the mouth of the cave. “Lore!” Webby and Scrooge went to run to her.

“Stronger every day Stronger every day...”

Struggling to stand back up, her eyes widened as a blast of pure green power exploded, tearing apart the cave and mountain around them. Using her body as a shield she jumped onto Scrooge and Webby. But Scrooge yanked her off and winced as he got pelted by a few small stones. He turned to Lore, helping her up. “It means…Lore…yer family.”

Lore’s eyes started to tear up as Webby hugged her torso. For once in a long time, Lore felt a true smile on her face as tears started to fall.

A blast of energy caused her to grab Webby and dodge the blast to the left, while Scrooge dodged to the right.

“While I believe this is quite a touching moment can we wait until after these beasts are defeated?!” Beakley had Mulgadget in a headlock.

“I” The boys grabbed Noirs hair and yanked back.

“I” Donald and Launchpad teamed up and while Donald confused Agni by raging around him, Launchpad tripped the red clad duck.

“I” Lore looked on in amazement at her…friends…her…family trying to help her. The overwhelming emotion seemed to consume her and as she ran towards them all, arms stretched out before her. Scrooge and Webby jumped into the battle as well.

“I keep getting stronger!” Knocking the triplets away, Noir pointed her scepter at Webby and Scrooge.

But Lore swept in and took the blast full force as she blasted a purple ray into Noir’s green one. The two energies exploded, sending a shockwave of energy and knocking everyone off their feet.

“I” Huey was sitting by his wounded brother, Dewey.

“I” Mulgadget had Louie and Beakley cornered.

“I” Donald was panting and Launchpad was knocked out as Agni approached.

“I keep getting stronger!” They were losing.

Lore had enough.

“I” “LEAVE”

“I” “MY”

“I” “FAMILY”

“I keep getting stronger!” “ALONE!”

Using almost everything she had, she screamed and her eyes blazed purple, then black. Her wand shattered from the magic and her hands became stained with purple energy. Launching herself at Noir she sliced at her, Noir dodged, and the air that Noir was standing suddenly split into a swirling portal. The force of it knocked Noir away and stunned her.

“I” Mulgadget was next as Lore slammed him into the wall before he hurt Beakley or Louie.

“I” Lore nearly sliced Agni in half as he was kicked away by Donald.

“I” The villains regrouped, forming right before the open portal behind them.

“I keep getting stronger!” All three sent everything they had, Mulgadget’s cane transforming into a cannon launching large blasts of energy at her, Agni blasting fire and Noir sending wave after wave of energy.

Lore screamed and within a beat her magic erupted in a fury, tearing through Mulgadgets cannon, burning Angi’s gloves and sending a crack through Noir’s scepter. Sending a massive wave of magic at them all, all three were sent back into the wall of the cave.

It was then, glancing behind her at her…friends…her family there. She made her choice. As the song was finally lulling, she turned to them with a small smile.

“Lore….your hands…” Dewey commented.

“Your eyes!” Louie sounded panicked.

“It will be okay…” Lore smiled weakly, Webby felt her heart drop.

“No…”

Everyone looked at Webby as Lore’s face took on a determined expression. “Webby…take care of the boys…”

Webby shook her head.

“Louie, Dewey, Huey……watch out for Webs kay?”

“Wha-“ Dewey started. Huey’s eyes widened. Louie looked confused.

“Scrooge.”

“Nay Lass..” Scrooge looked determined. Lore smiled. “Scrooge. I have to go.”

She closed her eyes. “I don’t belong here.”

“Says who?” Donald spoke.

She opened her eyes. “Says the universe. You should know Donald. I am a dimensional witch. We can never stay in one place too long..otherwise..”

Donald looked away.

Lore formed two black swords in her hands, they sparkled like the night sky. “I guess…its time to finally go..”

“No!” Webby and the boys grasped onto her dress.

“There has to be a way to make ya stay..”

Lore shook her head. “I have to do this, you all have to get as far as you can. I’m going to cast some seriously dangerous stuff now. I can’t……I can’t promise I won’t hurt you.” The pain in her voice made it hitch.

Webby shook her head firmly. “You wouldn’t hurt us, even unintentionally. We can take them together. That’s what family does.” She took Lore’s hand. Lore searched Webby’s eyes and then closed her own.

Lore smiled. “Don’t worry…it will be like I wasn’t even here. Now go!” Not giving them any chance, purple bubbles surrounded them all and swept them out of range. Lore tried to ignore their cries. But before they left she felt a pull and glancing down, she saw her shadow morphing.

“Lena…” she breathed.

“Why are you doing this?! You are going to hurt Webby…” Lena accused, looking downright livid.

Lore sadly smiled. “Don’t worry… she will forget me.”

“You don’t know Webby!” Lena accused.

Lore looked away slightly. “No, you don’t understand….she will forget me..you all will.”

Lena paused. “What?”

“I really wished I could stay here for a bit longer..you should go back to Webby. She needs you.” Launching herself forward, she clashed swords with a cane, and fists of fire. Spinning like a dancer she kicked Agni and Mulgadget away.

“No! What did you mean!” Lena was frantically gripping at her shadow.

She approached Noir who was looking a little worn for wear. Smirking, Lore stuck the sword in the earth and picked her up by her shirt.

“Because I am not a part of this world, once I leave…it will be like I never existed.” Lore whispered.

Lena seemed to realize what she was saying. “Everyone will forget you?!”

Noir tried to blast at Lore’s face but Lore threw her into the portal.

“That’s the plan..” Lore said, turning and giving Lena a slight smile before grabbing onto Mulgadget and also tossing him through the swirling vortex. Now Agni stood before the portal, fists blazing with fury.

She sighed. “Lena you have to go…I’m going to use some seriously dangerous magic. I can’t guarantee your safety.”

“No! Your going to do this all alone?! What about you? You are a part of this family! You shouldn’t be forced to wander the universe alone!” Lena desperately clung to any part of Lore’s shadow she could and Lore paused a bit at this.

“You guys don’t know how much it meant to me that you called me a part of the family. What Scrooge said will always be with me. But I can’t stay… no matter how much I want to.” This was Lore, raw and emotional. “If I do I will destroy your world. I know it. I will not allow that to happen again!” tears misted her eyes and a wave of emotion ripped through her.

She dodged an attack from Agni.

“Besides..” A flicker of energy buzzed to her right and a faint image appeared of another girl, teenage in nature.

“Lore be careful! Don’t use the-“ the voice was breaking in and out from a bad connection and the face of the being was obscured.

“I’m not really alone, yeah yeah I know!” She kicked Agni in the gut and winced as he charged into her chest. Gasping she hit the ground right before the portal and cursed her luck. The image of the other girl flickered out.

“Sorry Lena……….say bye for me..” She quickly summed up the last of her strength and with a shockwave sent Lena back to Webby’s shadow who was standing nearby the entrance with her family following close behind. Webby had heard everything.

Slicing a deep cut on Agni’s arm, she kicked him into the portal and slowly got to her feet before it, the ominous purple glow outlining her worn out figure.

Lore turned to look at Webby.

Webby gazed at Lore with tears in her eyes.

“I won’t forget you.”

Lore’s eyes widened.

“Even if I forget in my head…my heart won’t forget you.”

“Aye, ye will come back to us eventually Lass..” Scrooge put a hand on Webby’s shoulder to steady her.

Lore’s smile was pained but she nodded and stepped back into the portal, closing her eyes as the portal flickered out of existence.

Leaving behind a group of adventurers who wondered why they were in this godforsaken location in the first place. (K gonna go hide now byeeeee *runs*)

[pamphletstoinspire]

A Padre Pio Inspirational Story

Padre Pio – A Friend Forever – Part II

In the life of holiness, there are moments of profound obscurity when one must be buried like the seed that falls to the ground to die. . . When many years ago, a poor sick friar, Padre Pio, came to the monastery of Our Lady of Grace in San Giovanni Rotondo, he came only to make contact with God and to live in His presence. It is written in the Gospel, “You do not light a lantern to put it under a bushel.” And Jesus did not light a little lantern in Padre Pio, he kindled a bright sun, which was to give so much light, so much warmth to the whole world. — Father Peter Tartaglia ________

Carlo Campanini, the famous comedian and actor, met Padre Pio for the first time in 1939. Carlo had learned a little about Padre Pio from his friend, Mario. They were both working for a theater company at the time.

When Carlo and Mario knocked on the monastery door at Our Lady of Grace in San Giovanni Rotondo, they were greeted by Brother Gerardo. When they told the Brother that they were interested in speaking to Padre Pio, he told them that since it was Holy Week, it would be impossible. He explained that Padre Pio always suffered from the wounds of the stigmata, but his sufferings intensified during Holy Week. No one was allowed to visit him at that time. Carlo tried to convince Brother Gerardo to make an exception to the rule. He said that he and Mario had been looking forward to meeting Padre Pio with great anticipation. They had used their time off from work to make the trip from Bari. However, Brother Gerardo would not change his mind.

Instead of leaving, Carlo and Mario decided to stay at the monastery for a while. They walked around the grounds and made a visit to the little church that was connected to the monastery. They hoped that if they waited long enough, they might run into Padre Pio.

In order to pass the time, Carlo and Mario were cracking jokes and laughing as was their habit. It did not occur to them that it was disrespectful for them to be talking so loudly in a sacred place. Suddenly, one of the Capuchins came out of the church and complained about the noise they were making. The Capuchin happened to be Padre Pio. At once, Carlo noticed the strong odor of carbolic acid in the air. It was so strong that it caused his throat to constrict.

Many people noticed the fragrance of flowers or perfume around Padre Pio but when a strong odor of carbolic acid or sulfur or disinfectant was present when Padre Pio greeted someone, it usually indicated that the person in question needed to change his life. That happened to be true in Carlo’s case. At the time of his first visit to San Giovanni Rotondo, he was living a life that was very far from God.

Padre Pio asked Carlo and his companion to state their business. “We are two poor stage actors,” Carlo said. “We are all poor,” Padre Pio replied. “But why have you come to the monastery?” “We have come here to make our confession,” Carlo answered. Padre Pio told them both to prepare themselves and he would hear their confession after Mass the following day. As Carlo looked at Padre Pio, a certain fear gripped his heart and he began to tremble. He felt that his whole life was laid bare to Padre Pio.

The next morning, Carlo and Mario were present at Padre Pio’s Mass. It was the longest Mass that Carlo had ever attended in his life. He was out of practice, for one thing. Kneeling on the hard stone floor of the church caused him to feel severe pain in his knees. It was almost more than he could bear. He felt a great sense of relief when the Mass was finally over.

At the time of Carlo’s visit to Padre Pio, his greatest anxiety was that his work caused him to be separated from his children. He and his wife were always on the road, traveling from one city to another. Their children were living with one of their relatives. Carlo wanted to ask Padre Pio to pray that he could find work that would enable his family to be reunited. If it meant that he had to leave his acting career, he was prepared to do so. However, when he made his confession to Padre Pio, he could not bring himself to ask Padre Pio for anything. At the end of the confession, Padre Pio gave Carlo absolution, but before he did so, he made him promise to change his life. Carlo gave his word that he would make the necessary changes.

After visiting Padre Pio, Carlo returned to Bari and then moved to Rome. He found steady work in Rome that made it possible for his family to be reunited. It was a dream come true. He knew that Padre Pio had answered the secret prayer of his heart, the prayer that he had not been able to verbalize. Working as an actor exposed Carlo to innumerable temptations, temptations that he could not always resist. He felt guilty about his immoral lifestyle but did not have the will to make the necessary changes. Padre Pio had asked Carlo to amend his life, but he had not done so. For that reason, he did not want to return to San Giovanni Rotondo to see Padre Pio.

When Carlo won a leading role in a very successful film, his acting career began to soar. His photograph could be seen on the cover of numerous magazines and his name frequently appeared in the newspapers. People recognized him when he went out in public. He was offered starring roles in one movie after another and was making more money than he had ever dreamed of. But fame and fortune did not bring him the happiness he longed for. Spiritually, Carlo was in a dark place. He was depressed most of the time and was haunted by a feeling of emptiness. His life had lost its meaning and its joy. He longed for peace of mind and peace of soul and prayed to God for assistance.

One day, Carlo’s wife told him that the parish priest had spoken to her and suggested that their home be consecrated to the Sacred Heart of Jesus. They had even set the date. The priest wanted them all to receive Holy Communion on the day that their home was consecrated. That posed a big problem for Carlo. He would have to go to confession before he could receive Holy Communion. He dreaded the thought of it because he had many serious sins on his conscience. The embarrassment regarding what he would have to reveal in the confessional was very hard to think about. He did not know if he had the courage to go through with it. Carlo had not been to Mass or confession in a long time.

Carlo knew that it was important to his wife to have their home consecrated. He also knew that if he made a sincere confession, he would be obliged to change his life. He did not feel that he was ready to do that. He kept postponing the confession. Several times he went to church and stood in the confessional line but then lost his courage and left just before his turn came. He began to make one excuse after another to his wife. He finally told her that he was sorry but he would not be able to be there on the day the priest was coming to consecrate their home.

One day, Carlo made a visit to the parish of St. Anthony. He looked at the confessional line and knew that he would never have the time to wait in such a long line. “Please come to the front and take my place in line,” a stranger said to him. Carlo was surprised but he took the man’s place in line. Finally, he made a sincere and heartfelt confession and felt blessed to receive the grace of absolution. Carlo and his family were all together when their home was consecrated to the Sacred Heart of Jesus on January 8, 1950. With great joy in his heart, Carlo was able to receive Holy Communion on that day with all the members of his family. He wanted to tell Padre Pio about the wonderful changes in his life and decided to make a trip to San Giovanni Rotondo to see him. He had nothing to fear now. He had already confessed the sins of his past and he would never have to do so again.

In San Giovanni Rotondo, Carlo waited in line to make his confession to Padre Pio. In the confessional, Padre Pio told Carlo to kneel down and to begin his confession from the year 1936 forward. Carlo’s heart sank. He explained to Padre Pio that he had been to confession just two days before and had already confessed the serious sins of past years. But for some reason, it did not seem to matter to Padre Pio. He told Carlo for a second time, “Begin your confession from 1936. I know that you feel ashamed for the things that you have done in the past. You would rather that I did not know about them. But whether I know of them or not is of no importance. What matters most is that you have offended God by your sins. For some reason, that thought does not bother you.”

Carlo began his confession as instructed, but he kept his head lowered. Padre Pio called him a coward and said, “I want you to look at me as you confess your sins.” Carlo did so. After Carlo finished his confession, Padre Pio told him that he wanted him to once again make a promise to change his life. Carlo gave him his word that he would do so. This time he truly meant it. Finally, Padre Pio pronounced the words of absolution. He gave Carlo a Rosary and told him to pray it as often as he could. He promised Carlo that he would always be near to assist him in any difficulty. Before Carlo left the confessional, Padre Pio embraced him.

From that moment forward, Carlo’s life underwent a complete transformation. There was a great peace in his heart as well as a desire to lead a good Christian life. The next morning, Carlo was able to attend Padre Pio’s Mass. When he received Holy Communion from Padre Pio, it felt like a hot ember had been placed on his tongue. He felt the burning sensation in his mouth for several hours.

Before Carlo left San Giovanni Rotondo, he asked Padre Pio for his continued prayers. Carlo was aware that in some sense, his spiritual life would always be an uphill climb. He told Padre Pio that he was afraid of the temptations that he knew he would encounter once he returned home. Padre Pio said that it was good to be afraid of temptations, and that one should always have a certain fear of them. He advised Carlo to stay away from all the dark forces and satanic influences of the world. Padre Pio assured him of his spiritual support.

It was very evident that Padre Pio’s spiritual support was with Carlo through the ensuing years. Carlo attended Mass and received Holy Communion every day upon Padre Pio’s recommendation. With his work schedule, it was very difficult to do, but he always found a way to do it. He also turned down many starring roles in films. He was acting upon Padre Pio’s advice to never take a part in a movie that had immoral content. Padre Pio had explained to Carlo that the people who made such movies would have to answer to God for their actions. That included everyone from the producers to the actors to the carpenters who built the sets to the people who sold the tickets.

Padre Pio also warned Carlo never to tell off-color jokes or use bad language. If a movie script had even one vulgar word in it, Carlo would not consider being a part of the project. Movie directors and producers could not understand why Carlo was passing up such lucrative job opportunities. When they asked him for an explanation, he simply told them that he was a spiritual son of Padre Pio and that Padre Pio set a very high standard.

Whatever gains I had, these I have come to consider a loss because of Christ. More than that, I even consider everything as a loss because of the supreme good of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have forfeited all things and I consider them so much rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having any righteousness of my own based on the law but that which comes through faith in Christ. — Philippians 3:7-9 ________

In the summer of 1963, Antonio Ardillo became incapacitated by a stroke which paralyzed the right side of his body. When Antonio’s good friend Anna Rossi heard the news, she rushed to the hospital to visit him. Antonio showed her his arm and his leg, paralyzed and motionless. Anna felt very sorry for Antonio. She wondered what the future would hold since he supported his wife and children by working as a hairdresser and the family depended on him.

Anna told Antonio that as soon as he regained his strength, she and her husband would take him to the monastery church of Our Lady of Grace to seek Padre Pio’s intercession for his complete healing. Antonio was very happy to agree to the plan. Somewhere along the way his faith had grown cold and he had stopped attending Mass. He had not been inside the doors of a church for a long, long time. Nevertheless, he looked forward to the day when he could make the trip to see Padre Pio. After two weeks in the hospital, Antonio’s condition improved so much that he was released. The only sign left of his illness was a slight limp when he walked.

Anna and her husband along with Antonio and his son were soon able to make the trip to San Giovanni Rotondo. They attended Padre Pio’s Mass and were fortunate to be able to find seats in the front row. From time to time during the Mass, they became aware of a beautiful perfume, like a gentle breeze, that seemed to fill every corner of the church. Several times during the Mass, Padre Pio stared at Anna and Antonio. Anna had been praying, not only for a physical healing for Antonio, but also for a spiritual healing, so that his faith would be restored.

After the Mass, Antonio went to the booking office and signed up for confession. He had time to examine his conscience and to prepare himself for the encounter with Padre Pio. Finally, his turn came. He had only been able to say a few words in the confessional before Padre Pio stopped him. “You do not go to church on Sunday,” Padre Pio said. “But my profession obliges me to work on Sundays,” Antonio replied. “I also have to work on the Holy Days and Solemn Feast Days of the Church.” “But that is not acceptable,” Padre Pio replied. “Sunday is the Lord’s day and it must be kept holy. I will not be able to absolve you.” Antonio’s confession was over before it had hardly begun.

Antonio returned to his home full of sadness and disappointment. He had wanted Padre Pio’s absolution but had not received it. He decided to follow the advice of the holy priest. When he stopped working on Sundays, he felt the financial loss. Nevertheless, he was still able to provide for all of his family’s needs. He returned to the practice of his faith and felt a great peace in his heart. He never again missed Sunday Mass. The next time Antonio visited San Giovanni Rotondo, Padre Pio greeted him affectionately and appeared to be genuinely happy to see him. He comforted Antonio and spoke to him lovingly and at the end of the confession, gave him the absolution he had longed for. Antonio’s heart was filled with great and indescribable joy.

Antonio was a changed man. His wife, his children, and all who knew him could see the difference. He told Anna that he was happy that he still had the slight limp when he walked, the only sign of the stroke. It was a reminder to him of how Padre Pio had come into his life when he needed him the most, and set him on the right path. ________

In the beginning of the year 2000, I had a very strong desire to travel to Padre Pio’s shrine in San Giovanni Rotondo. The desire to make the trip was in my thoughts constantly so I finally made plans to go at the end of October of that year. I still did not understand why I was feeling such a strong pull to go there. In early September of the same year, my grandson was diagnosed with Neuroblastoma stage four cancer. It was a very aggressive form of cancer with no known cure. He was three and a half years old at the time. We were totally devastated with this news. My grandson was living in England. I live in Dublin, Ireland. I flew to England to help look after his older sister and to be with the family. I contacted Cathy Kelly, who runs the Padre Pio Information Centre, in Victoria, London, and she very kindly allowed me to take the mitten of Padre Pio to my grandson in the hospital. I gave Cathy my passport as good faith with the understanding that she would return it to me when I returned the mitten. We had the mitten resting on my grandson’s head all night, and I was begging Padre Pio to save this child.

My grandson had surgery at the Royal Marsden Cancer Hospital in London. A cancerous tumor which was the size of a golf ball was removed from his brain and he was given only four months to live. He was also given chemotherapy and radiation to his brain and spine. The doctor said that if he was to survive, he would have stunted growth as a side effect of this therapy. But the doctor did not believe that he could survive.

The following day, when I returned the mitten to Cathy Kelly’s office, I was totally overcome with a very strong fragrance of beautiful roses, which seemed to last for ages. I was emotional and crying and wondering what was it was all about. Cathy said that it was a sign that Padre Pio had heard my prayer. I understood then that Padre Pio would look after this child.

Now I had a reason to get to San Giovanni Rotondo, and while there I was up at the chapel door at 5 am when it opened and stayed at the tomb of Padre Pio until 8 am, talking to him and praying and begging him to heal our grandchild. I told Padre Pio that if our grandson recovered, I would do something for him. I really did not know at that time how I would help Padre Pio but I would find a way.

When I returned from San Giovanni Rotondo, I started the Padre Pio Devotions in Malahide, Dublin, as I had promised Padre Pio that I would do something for him. At first we held the devotions in the Carmelite Monastery in Seapark, Malahide but after six years we had to move to a bigger church because of the large crowds who attended. We are now at the Sacred Heart Church, Seabury, Malahide, Dublin. We meet on the first Friday of every month.

We have an organist and choir, and we start with Eucharistic Adoration, followed by Mass celebrated by Fr. Angelus, a Capuchin Priest, who blesses the people after Mass with a mitten of Padre Pio. We always have a packed Church, with 300 to 400 people in attendance, and Fr. Angelus tells us lovely stories of Padre Pio during his homily. Last September, the members of our Prayer Group bought a beautiful statue of Padre Pio in San Giovanni Rotondo. It was shipped to Dublin for our Padre Pio Devotions which have been going now for fourteen years.

Every year in September, I organize a pilgrimage to Italy. I have been doing this yearly for the past fourteen years. During our trips, we have visited Rome, Assisi, Cascia, the Holy House of Loreto, Lanciano, to see the first Eucharistic Miracle, Mount St. Angelo, where St. Michael the Archangel appeared, San Giovanni Rotondo, and more. We usually have a group of around 50 people each year. In San Giovanni Rotondo, we visit all places associated with Padre Pio, his cell, his old tomb, the beautiful new tomb where his body can be seen, the friary, the hospital, and the English office, where we see a video of Padre Pio and get a blessing with some of his relics. We also visit Manopello, the shrine of the Holy Face.

Our grandson is nineteen years old now and is 5ft. 11 inches tall and is in very good health. We are forever grateful to Padre Pio for this favor and for so many other favors given to our Prayer Group members over the years. It is amazing how Padre Pio gets hold of you in so many ways and gets you working for him. He got hold of me at first when I had the strong desire to visit San Giovanni Rotondo, even before I knew that my grandson was ill. I never dreamed I would organize the Padre Pio Devotions in Dublin or the pilgrimages to Italy but I really love to do this. Padre Pio makes you work hard for him. He is our great friend!— Noreen Handley ________

We must relearn our devotion to the Cross. It seems too passive to us, too pessimistic, too sentimental - but if we have not been devoted to the Cross of Jesus in our lifetime, how will we endure our own Cross when the time comes for it to be laid upon us? A friend of mine, who depended for years on kidney dialysis and who realized that his life was slipping away from him moment by moment, once told me that as a child, and later as an adult, he had a special devotion to the Way of the Cross and had often prayed it. When he heard the frightening diagnosis of his illness, he was at first stunned; then suddenly the thought came to him: What you have prayed so often has now become a reality in your life; now you can really accompany Jesus; you have been joined to him by his Way of the Cross. In this way, my friend recovered his serenity, which thereafter illuminated his countenance to the end of his days. — Pope Benedict XVI

[thenotoriousscuttlecliff]

Moffat Era Rewatch: The Day of the Doctor

On the last day of the Time War, before he made his greatest mistake, the man formally known as the Doctor is given a vision of his future...

Warning: Spoilers Sweetie 

Awww, the classic titles.

Coal Hill School before they ruined it by turning it into an academy. Fuck you, David Cameron and your Big Society, you fat pig fucker. 

“Waste no more time arguing about what a good man should be. Be one. Marcus Aurelius.” Clara teaching her students about her pinups. Later she teaches them about Jane Austen. Clara just uses her job to bag about all the people she fancies, doesn’t she? 

Most epic TARDIS entrance made by someone not named River Song. 

There goes the Doctor breaking the fourth wall again.  

That book has a little TARDIS on it.

Clara Oswald, so amazing she is able to snap her singers while wearing leather gloves. 

Kate’s ringtone is the TARDIS noise.

Hello, Osgood. 

“Nice scarf.”

You’re terrible at having a job, Doctor. You show up out of the blue, do a few days work and the disappear without even handing in your notice. You only get hired because you never claim a salary. 

“No more.” 

“Time Lord art. Bigger on the inside.”

The Last Day of the Time War... 

The Time War is like the War of Wrath from The Silmarillion, it’s just too big and epic to ever depict on screen in a satisfying way. Which is why it is a good thing that this episode doesn’t show us the actual war. We just get a glimpse of its end, after all the big battles have been fought and lost, the Time Lords are on the their last legs, and Rassilon is hidden away like Hitler in his bunker, ranting and raving and blaming everyone else for his own inept leadership.  

“To hell with the High Council. Their plans have already failed.” So does this take place just after ‘The End of Time’ or at the same time? If it’s the latter that means the Tenth Doctor is simultaneously destroying/saving Gallifrey

“How do you use a weapon of ultimate mass destruction when it can stand in judgment on you?” 

The barn. We thought it was just some random location, but it turned out to be so much more. 

I love the War Doctor. So much so that I wish there had been more secret Doctors played by the type of big name actors you know the show could ever get full time.  

“It's nothing. It's just a wolf.” Welcome back, Billie Piper. 

I wasn’t that keen on Billie coming back because I’m not a fan of Rose, plus I was a little resentful that she was the only former companion being brought back. But I ended up really liking her in this episode, probably because she wasn’t playing Rose. 

Still disappointed that no other companions came back, though. Not that I think this should’ve been a big reunion with companions showing up left right and centre. The last thing this needed to be was another ‘Five Doctors’. Moffat should really be commended for his restraint, because this could’ve easily been a mess if he had gone overboard on the fan services and Easter eggs.  

Still, would’ve been nice if just one classic companion had been there. I bet is Elisabeth Sladen was still alive they would’ve asked her to appear.

“Stuck between a girl and a box. Story of your life, eh, Doctor?” 

No one expects a fez. 

So was that horse Arthur? 

Look, it’s David’s controversial not as spiky as it should be hair. God, I don’t even want to know how many angry Tumblr posts were written about that. 

“I'm not English.” No, David John McDonald, you’re not. 

“You're a Zygon.” He’s probably been waiting his whole life to say that. I bet Moffat didn’t even have to persuade him to be in this, he just had to said “Zygons, David” and he ran back to Wales as fast as his skinny legs could carry him.  

“Whatever you've got planned, forget it. I'm the Doctor. I'm nine hundred and four years old. I'm from the planet Gallifrey in the constellation of Kasterborous. I am the Oncoming Storm, the Bringer of Darkness, and you are basically just a rabbit, aren't you? Okay, carry on. Just a general warning.”

The long awaited return of the Fifth, Sixth and Seventh Doctors. 

“Now, I want this stone dust analysed. And I want a report in triplicate, with lots of graphs and diagrams and complicated sums on my desk, tomorrow morning, ASAP, pronto, L O L. See? Job. Do I have a desk?”

What was so special about this fez that they needed to lock it away in the Under Gallery?  

The Doctors comparing the size of their, ahem, screwdrivers.

The face(s) of a man who just realised he made out with a Zygon. 

“There's two of us. I'm reversing it, you're reversing it back again. We're confusing the polarity.”

“Why are you pointing your screwdrivers like that? They're scientific instruments, not water pistols.” 

“Brave words, Dick van Dyke.”

“Oh, the pointing again. They're screwdrivers! What are you going to do, assemble a cabinet at them?” Not every day you get scolded by your younger self. 

“Timey-wimey?” "I've no idea where he picks that stuff up.” Rule 1, the Doctor lies. 

I could honestly watch these three bickering all day.  

“Shall we ask for a better quality of door so we can escape?”

The Black Archive, home of all the Easter eggs.  

“Think about it. Americans with the ability to rewrite history? You've seen their movies.” Trump isn’t letting a lack of time travel stop him rewrite history and erase the Obama Administration. 

“Help to pass the timey-wimey.” 

The man who regrets and the man who forgets.

“Hang on. Three of you in one cell, and none of you thought to try the door?” This is Doctor Who in a nutshell. The Doctor is so consumed by how clever he is that, unlike the companion, he fails to notice the bleedin’ obvious.  

Those creatures? Has Osgood not read up on UNIT history? 

And this is why you don’t fuck with a Tudor. 

“Is there a lot of this in the future?” “It does start to happen, yeah.” Wait until you meet your future wife, then there’ll be a lot more than kissing. 

Who doesn’t love the round things?  

“Oh, you've redecorated. I don't like it.” He’s so offended. How dare this stick insect not like his TARDIS. 

Just how dangerous are River’s heels? 

“Somewhere in your memory is a man called Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge Stewart. I am his daughter.” And that is the exact point that Zygon Kate knew they were fucked. 

“You tell yourself it's justified, but it's a lie. Because what I did that day was wrong. Just wrong.” And yet a lot of people do try to justify it simply because they don’t like that Moffat undid it. 

“Peace in our time.” And that worked out just as well as when Neville said it. 

There you go, Doctor, a big red button. 

“Great men are forged in fire. It is the privilege of lesser men to light the flame.”

A lot of people really hated the shots of the children playing. I think they preferred it if Time Lords were all just evil people so it made it okay that the Doctor killed them. 

I really did think they were going to push the button and kill them all. I was so relived when they didn’t. Committing genocide would really not have been the best way to celebrate 50 years of Doctor Who.

This here is why the companions are so important and why the Doctor must never travel alone. If the Doctor had been alone he would’ve pushed that button and killed them all. But Clara was there, representing all those who came before her, to remind the Doctor not only of the many innocent lives he about to take, but also who is he. Not a warrior, not a hero, but a Doctor. 

“Then what do I do?” "What you've always done. Be a doctor.”

“Never cruel or cowardly.” "Never give up, never give in.”

“Gentlemen, I have had four hundred years to think about this. I've changed my mind.” This isn’t seven years of character development being wiped away, this is the result of that development. 

“Oh, Bad Wolf girl, I could kiss you.” "Yeah, that's going to happen.” 

“No, sir. All thirteen!” Capaldi intensifies. 

“Geronimo!” "Allons-y!” "Oh, for God's sake. Gallifrey stands!”

“So I won't remember that I tried to save Gallifrey rather than burn it. I'll have to live with that. But for now, for this moment, I am the Doctor again.”  

“I suppose it makes sense. Wearing a bit thin.” Miss you so much, Sir John. 

You fucking smoothie, Ten. 

“I don't want to go.”  If David returns for the 60th will they find another way to make these his final words again? 

Tom!!! My favourite Doctor. Still wonderful after all these years.

Can’t describe how happy it makes me to see my two favourite Doctors together on screen. 

“Oh, it's entirely up to you. Your choice, eh? I can only tell you what I would do if I were you. Oh, if I were you. Oh, perhaps I was you, of course. Or perhaps you are me." 

“Clara sometimes asks me if I dream. Of course I dream, I tell her. Everybody dreams. But what do you dream about, she'll ask. The same thing everybody dreams about, I tell her. I dream about where I'm going. She always laughs at that. But you're not going anywhere, you're just wandering about. That's not true. Not any more. I have a new destination. My journey is the same as yours, the same as anyone’s. It's taken me so many years, so many lifetimes, but at last I know where I'm going. Where I've always been going. Home, the long way round.” 

Yeah, the effect isn’t that great, but this shot still brings a tear to my eye. 

Next Time: The Time of the Doctor

[adavenhobbit]

Watching There And Back Again: Down The Rabbit Hole

Hey everyone! You know I think I’m just going to post this story here as well.

Summary:

During their trip through Mirkwood, the company finds themselves falling down a cliff. Only to appear in a strange room with a strange voice telling them they are going to see something to help change the future. Characters watch the movie type of fic because I love them and there are very few in this fandom.

I hope you enjoy!

Bilbo was tired, hungry, and absolutely done with this accursed forest. They had been traveling on the narrow, twisting path for what seemed like ages, though Bilbo really didn’t know how long it had actually been. The forest was always dark, with creatures looming in the branches. The night was worse, with the haunting eyes glowing with unknown light, the darkness so thick he couldn’t even see his hand when touching his nose. Bilbo hadn’t thought he was capable of such complete and utter loathing, and he was sure only this forest would ever be able to garner such a reaction from him. Tripping over yet another tree root that jutted up from the ground, Bilbo winced as he fell into Bofur. The miner turned his head, blinking slowly before he realized it had been Bilbo who fell into him.

“Alright there?” He asked as Bilbo straightened. Nodding quickly, Bofur turned back and continued to follow the procession. Bilbo heard the dwarves muttering but he tried to pay them little mind, busying himself with watching his feet and his own temper. However, when he ran into Bofur’s back again, this time because the dwarf had stopped abruptly, he couldn’t help but look up in exasperation

“What’s happening?” Oin called from farther forwards

“Keep moving. Nori, why have we stopped?” Thorin demanded and Bilbo could hear the barely suppressed ire in his voice, having been on the wrong end of it too many times before. Bilbo wanted to tell him they should rest, exhaustion weighing heavily on his body, but Thorin would never agree to such a thing. Maybe Nori had the same notion. The idea was quickly replaced with dread as Nori spoke up.

“The path...it’s disappeared!” Of all the advice they had been given, leaving the path and drinking the water had been the two biggest things not to do. This day just kept getting better and better.

“What’s going on?” Dwalin demanded, pushing past Bilbo towards the front.

“We’ve lost the path!” Oin said as everyone moved forward to stand on the edge of the cliff they now found themselves on. Bilbo couldn’t see the bottom, the deep chasm had a thick layer of fog. Even so, the drop made his stomach churn uncomfortably, bringing back memories of the Misty Mountains and nearly falling to his death. If it hadn’t been for a certain brooding, rude, arrogant, handsome, no! Bilbo shook his head to dispel those thoughts. Thorin would certainly never think of him in that way, he barely even considered them friends. Besides Thorin was to be a king and he was nothing more than a foolish hobbit. Bilbo sighed as he turned to look at the gathered dwarves, wondering what they were to do now. Thorin was staring angrily down into the chasm as if it personally had offended him and his entire family.

“Find it. All of you look. Look for the path!” He ordered, turning away from the cliff. As he stepped away a tremor shook the ground. Bilbo was the first to notice it, the dwarves picking up on it as the shaking intensified. There were shouts of fear and surprise as the entire company tried to scramble away from the cliff as the rocks began to crumble. A resounding crack echoed through the dense trees and Bilbo could feel the rock beneath his feet coming loose. He tried to jump back. The ground was too loose. A shout of panic was all Bilbo could let out before he was sliding. For a second he felt weightless and then he was falling, down, down, down, into the chasm.

“Bilbo!” He heard someone shout, and it had to have been his imagination playing tricks on him because the voice sounded very much like Thorin’s. But everything was drowned out by wind and the screams of the dwarves as they too fell, all of them being engulfed in the dark fog.

Bilbo wasn’t exactly sure when he stopped falling. His whole body tingled and his head felt too light. Groaning, Bilbo sat up slowly and looked around. He was in, well it seemed to be a room but he had never seen a room quite like it before. Three of the walls were covered with black cloth, while the other was white. The floor was covered in a dark, soft carpet and the only furniture in the room was a long empty table along with several couches and chairs. He heard groans and noticed his dwarves were also laying scattered around the room. They were also starting to sit up, looking at the unfamiliar surroundings. Dwalin was reaching for his weapons, his roar of anger when he found them missing rousing everyone.

“Everyone, up!” Thorin ordered, his voice far closer then Bilbo had been expecting. Bilbo felt himself being pulled to his feet, his back pressed against a very strong, and very warm, chest as the company circled up around him.

“Where are my knives?”

“Where’re me axes?” Bilbo wanted to cover his ears at the cacophony of noise around him but the thick arm across his chest prevented him from doing anything.

“No harm will come to you within these halls.” A voice said, though there was no one to accompany it.

“Who are you? Where have you taken us?” Thorin demanded staring up at the ceiling.

“Who I am is unimportant, but know I mean to help. As for where you are, you are in my theater to see something I think you will find most interesting.” The voice almost seemed amused. Thorin, however, was the exact opposite at the vague response.

“I command you-”

“You cannot command me to do anything Thorin Oakenshield. The time you spend arguing with me only prolongs your sentence here. If you and your company desire there is food on the table that you may help yourselves to. I have removed the forest’s affects on you, but if you are too tired I can provide blankets and pillows and we can start the viewing in the morning.” As the voice spoke, Bilbo heard the gasps of the dwarves and he struggled against the arm to see. The appendage relented and Bilbo turned to see it had been Thorin who had grabbed him. Swallowing thickly Bilbo tried to calm how his heart raced knowing how close they had been. He instead preoccupied himself with what had captured everyone else’s interest. The once empty table was now filled with all sorts of food. It reminded him a great deal of how his table in Bag End had looked all those months ago when he first met the company. After days of little food, the sight nearly made him cry with relief. He knew he wasn’t the only one.

“And what is it you will be showing us?” Thorin asked coming to stand in front of the company, even as he glared up at the ceiling.

“Your journey so far, along with a few additional bit of information. I believe such a thing will aid you greatly on your path to come.” There were murmurs at the voice’s words. Whatever being had brought them here must have been very powerful, Bilbo wasn’t sure even Gandalf could do such a thing. But how could showing them what had already happened possibly help them? Bilbo sighed and he wondered if all wizards were as mad as Gandalf. Radagast, and now this person, were only furthering his conclusion that they were.

“Eat, and then rest. We will begin when your minds and bodies are ready.” The voice said, before fading away. Despite Thorin demanding more answers, the voice said nothing more. No one quite knew what to do, Thorin was standing stock still and while the voice had assured them the food was safe none of them knew if they should trust it. Apparently, some stomachs were stronger than a dwarf’s suspicion.

“Bombur!” Bofur called out, drawing everyone’s attention. The ginger-haired dwarf, looked up, eyes wide and cheeks stuffed full. He gulped and, when nothing happened to him, the rest of the company descended.

Bilbo couldn’t find it in himself to give even a lick of concern for the dwarves appalling table manners. Food was being thrown merrily back and forth across the table and ale was flowing freely. Bilbo had never been gladder to see a dish of roasted vegetables in his life and he gladly took the entire dish, only sharing a bit with Bifur. He knew none of the other dwarves would appreciate the dish, too busy scarfing down the biggest roasts Bilbo had ever seen. Even Thorin seemed to relax slightly as he ate, the tension melting away. He still looked around with suspicion, but with no harm coming to his men from the food he was hesitant trusting whatever power had brought them here. Bilbo found himself pushed around the table from the dwarves antics, finally tiring of it and moving to sit closer to Thorin. They watched the company feast and laugh and forget, however momentarily the situation they found themselves in.

“What do you think the voice wants us to see?” Bilbo jumped a little as Thorin’s voice rumbled quite close to his ear. The dwarf had leaned towards him so Bilbo could hear his question over the noise. Bilbo’s heart sped up a little but he made sure to stay composed.

“I’m not entirely sure. I cannot see how showing us what we have already experienced will help us. But for anything powerful enough to do all of this, I assume they have knowledge we do not. I think it is best if we go along with what they are asking for now and if the situation turns sour later we can figure out a way to escape. If there even if one.” Bilbo shoved a spoonful of carrots into his mouth to stop his ramblings. Thorin hummed in agreement and sat back, staring down at his plate. He did not speak to Bilbo again for the remainder of the meal, both of them silently eating their meals.

As the food dwindled down, so did their high spirits. Fili and Kili were the first to fall asleep, laying on top of each other, Kili’s face dangerously close to a plate of half-eaten cake. One by one, their full bellies lulled the company to sleep. Even Dwalin, who had been complaining about the mysterious loss of his axes for most of the meal, eventually passed out, leaving only Bilbo and Thorin.

“Go to sleep Burglar, I’ll keep watch,” Thorin said, even as his eyelids drooped. Bilbo was far too tired to respond, merely laying his head down on the table. He idly wondered if perhaps their food had been drugged, but sleep took him before he could come up with an answer.

[fullmetalcarer]

Arranged Marriage / Soulmates AU - Part 2

(link to Part 1)

King Charles and Prince Erik met every day in the fortnight prior to the wedding. As was customary, they were attended by hordes of courtiers. Every time they met Charles was rendered speechless and stupid with possessive lust. Every time they met Erik leant towards him like a sapling in a high wind, "accidentally" touching Charles' fingers, or nudging his shoulder, or brushing his arm. Every night Charles jerked off frantically, picturing Erik in a variety of erotic poses.

Conversation was stilted at first, with Charles inquiring about such inspiring subjects as Erik's journey, the weather in Genosha as opposed to the Westchestrian climate and comparative farming practices. Erik gave monosyllabic answers.

The war was an obvious conversational no go area. Erik had fought in his country's wars from the age of sixteen. Charles was a seasoned campaigner; first as a guerrilla fighter against the usurper, Kurt Marko, then in the civil war against Kurt's son, Cain, and finally as a commander and participant, despite the pleas of his generals, in the war against Genosha.

A chance reference to chess changed everything. Conversation flowed as they discussed, and argued about, their preferred strategies. They adjourned to the library to use the ebony and whitewood set that had belonged to Charles' long dead father. It was a close fought game. Eric won. Charles had never been so happy to be beaten in his entire life. Admittedly, he had been distracted by Erik's habit of rolling the pieces between his long, tanned fingers. They played daily from then on. Honours were about even.

The conversational floodgates had opened. They talked about books (Erik favoured factual works, Charles preferred novels and poetry), the sciences (Erik was fascinated by metallurgy, Charles by the study of living things), the rights of omegas (in Westchester omegas had virtually the same rights as alphas, in Genosha they were very much second class citizens, except that they were expected to fight, which was rare in Westchester) and the lands they had travelled (Erik described the icy fastnesses of the north, Charles waxed lyrical on the tropical jungles of the south).

Erik was well on the way to beating him yet again, which would put him three games ahead, when Charles noticed him rubbing at a broad scar on the inside of his wrist.

"Old war wound?" he asked, forgetting the war was out of bounds.

"No," replied Erik, tone somber.

Charles was just about to apologise for asking when Erik continued:

"It's where my soulmark was."

The Genoshans were remarkable for removing children's soul marks as soon as they appeared. Soulmarks were considered a frivolous distraction from the serious art of waging war. Soulmarks encouraged people to waste time searching for their perfect mate when they could be usefully serving their country.

"When . . . when did you have it removed?"

"I was three."

"Did it hurt?"

"I don't remember. I don't remember what it said. It was a man's name, I know that."

"Do you regret losing it? I don't mean to offend. I know it is the way of your people and would not be the custom if they did not feel there was good reason for it. Forgive me, I express myself badly."

Erik smiled, not the fierce grin that ignited a fire in Charles' groin, but a soft, sad thing that stirred something painful in his chest.

"You express yourself well and I am not offended. I know we are the only people to remove our soulmarks. When I was young I thought nothing of it, it was the way things were. As I grew older, I was glad it was gone as I knew my marriage would be arranged and a soulmark might make it harder to accept. Recent events have made me wonder . . . oh . . . many things."

Recent events could only mean their impending marriage.

"I have my soulmark still and I swear I could not feel more strongly for my soulmate than I do for you," said Charles.

He took both Erik's hand's in his. His fingers were cool between Charles' heated palms. His scent intensified, the rain on green, growing things smell particularly strong.

"I have no soulmark, but I care not for I have you," Erik whispered, voice husky with need.

They were falling into each other, lips within inches of meeting, when a Genoshan courtier coughed meaningfully. It was the Regent, Shaw. Fucking bastard. They drew back and carried on playing, the match descending into a messy draw.

Their conversation was never so intimate again, but Charles repeated Erik's words in his head night and day.

"Stopped moping about your soulmate, have you?" teased Raven.

Charles blushed and told her loftily "you should have more respect for your King."

She blew a raspberry and sprinted off before he could retaliate.

The day of the wedding came at last. Charles was ritually bathed and dressed as was the custom. Erik would be going through the same ritual. Charles was clad in gold, Erik in silver. Only alphas and betas were permitted to attend to Charles and only omegas to Erik. Raven, as a beta and his nearest relative, despite being a half sister only and a bastard at that, had the duty of girdling him with his sword belt and placing the crown upon his head. She looked unusually serious as she did so, the solemnity of the event affecting even her high spirits. Neither Charles nor Erik would eat until the marriage feast.

Charles struggled to keep his temper. He should be meeting Erik in the library right now. They'd be playing chess and talking and Charles would gently tease his omega and Erik would pretend to be offended, then burst out laughing. Logic said he'd see Erik in just a few hours. His alpha nature curled his fingers into claws and put a growl in his throat at the delay. He managed not to swear at anyone or punch his attendants by saying as little as possible and practising breathing exercises.

He processed through the castle - which took hours, it was a bloody big castle - and then through the streets. The people cheered and threw flowers. There were a few boos and sullen faces because some of his subjects resented him marrying the Genoshan prince who'd waged war on their land. In most kingdoms the people would have been afraid of openly expressing their displeasure, but Charles had always been determined Westchester would be different. The vast majority seemed to be celebrating. Of course that might be because free food and drink had been laid on.

Erik would be making his way to the cathedral by another route. As an omega, he would be in a carriage, rather than on foot, and hidden from the gaze of the crowd, which was ridiculous as the public would be seeing him all the time once they were married. Something primitive in Charles rejoiced that his omega would be concealed from prying eyes. He'd arranged to have the Erik's route strewn with yellow rose petals, as his prince had mentioned in passing that he preferred them to the more traditional white.

Both processions arrived at the cathedral at the same time. Charles handed Erik down from the carriage. Erik's fingers were cold and trembled slightly. Charles gave them a reassuring squeeze. Erik squeezed back. He had strong grip. His scent - lemons, cloves, new mown hay - washed over Charles, hypnotic and entrancing. Erik was draped from head to toe in a fine silver veil. Once the massive cathedral doors had slammed shut behind them, Charles unveiled him.

"You are as beautiful as the moon," he whispered.

Erik smiled and whispered back, "You are as magnificent as the sun. Oh, and yellow roses, you remembered."

"I remember everything you say."

The Regent made a sort of "ahem" noise. God, Charles disliked the man, plus he was an alpha so shouldn't be anywhere near Charles' omega, but he was perfectly right, they were keeping three thousand people waiting.

Charles led Erik down the aisle. The huge, echoing space was brilliant with a thousand candles. Light streamed through the stained glass windows, painting the pale stonework in a myriad of jewel colours. The right hand side of the nave was hung with blue Xavier pennants, the left with Lehnsherr green and silver. Above the altar two great banners were joined in a complex knot, symbolising their union.

The priest began speaking of "the alpha taking into him the omega and the omega cleaving to the alpha." Charles didn't take in much of the service. Erik was too distracting.

He repeated the ancient words:

"I, Charles, rightful King of Westchester, Lord of House Xavier, take unto me Erik, anointed Prince of Genosha, Lord of House Lehnsherr, to be my omega. I pledge on my life and my crown to love, honour and protect him, forsaking all others, even into the end of our days."

Erik gazed at him with shining eyes.

"I, Erik, anointed Prince of Genosha, Lord of House Lehnsherr, give unto Charles, rightful King of Westchester, Lord of House Xavier, myself, as offering to my alpha. I pledge on my life and my crown to love, honour and obey him, forsaking all others, even unto the end of our days."

They exchanged rings, silver for Charles and gold for Erik, and drank from the cup of joining, Erik's fingers clasping the jewelled handles, Charles' hands atop Erik's.

"And now, your Majesty, your Royal Highness, you may exchange the kiss of binding."

Charles placed one hand on Erik's cheek and the other on the nape of his neck. The short hairs tickled his fingers. Erik's hands fastened on Charles' waist. Erik bent his head - he was half a head taller than Charles - and their lips met. Erik's lips were soft and warm. His scent intensified - he smelt like an orangery hung with drying spices - and Charles' scent - earthy, musky, smoky - mingled with it. Charles was on verge of slipping his tongue into Erik's welcoming mouth, when the priest cried:

"People of Westchester and Genosha, behold King Charles, the Third of His Name, and Prince Consort Erik, the First of His Name. Alpha and Omega, may they rule long and well under God's grace."

Charles disengaged and he and Erik turned to face their cheering people with dazed faces. Erik had tear tracks on his cheeks and it wasn't until Charles saw them that he realised his own face was wet.

They were married.

Part 3 to follow