#Devious Delights Rocky

[willowthefoxxo]

Devious Delights candies!

The candies made for @sora-the-air-wubbox @greythewulf @indigoblu2 @xneolivia and @danichicklets

you five are welcome to display the candy you received on your profile if you'd like to, and anyone including the five listed can purchase permission to display all five of them by reblogging this post with their own fanart of any of my silly Devious Delights.

If you all want another set like this, the next five trick-or-treaters will be receiving members of the Toxic Treats group.

and yes, these are all my characters. you are both welcome and encouraged to ask whatever questions you'd like about them.

[tonycries]

Initiation!

Synopsis. “Just a small initiation, nothing too serious.” Couldn’t be too hard, right? So why are you - the all-new frat sweetheart - being pinned to the bed and stuffed full from all ends by your frat brothers?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader, Geto Suguru x Reader, Fushiguro Toji x Reader, brief Nanami x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, fratboy! JJK men, gangbang, frat sweetheart! reader, cumplay, choking, oral (male + female), anal, double penetration, cunnilingus, Suguru is MEAN - so is everyone else, some heinous things idek how to tag, unprotected, no curses! AU, marking, pet names (princess, darling, doll), swearing.

Word count. 4.8k

A/N. Am not the same person I was before I wrote this…

Art by @_3aem on X.

Tequila was your best friend when Suguru and Satoru weren’t around.

Which is probably why you were five shots deep before 9pm, heavy bass thrumming through your veins and sleek tabletop steady under your rocky heels.

Everything was a blur. The pulsing neon lights, cheers following your every sway and twirl, and the atmosphere heavy with beer and laughter in that heady Jujutsu Phi frat house. 

You almost miss that familiar flash of cloudy white locks and those narrowed black eyes greedily watching your hips to the beat. Almost. 

An excited exclamation of “There’s our all-new sweetheart!”. And the world tilts.

Falling down really does feel good. Especially when the ground is so warm - and smells faintly of overpriced cologne. 

“Careful, there, Satoru. Wouldn’t wanna hurt the sweetheart right before initiation.” 

A pair of strong arms underneath you, and a deep voice hot against your ear. “Havin’ a lotta fun without us, huh?”

Oh, you’d recognize those devastatingly handsome faces anywhere. You blink, eyebrows furrowed slightly at your best friends as you tried to focus on their words. “Sweetheart? Me?”

To your right, Suguru nods slowly, a sly smile playing on his lips. “Absolutely. Who else? No one better we can think of, darling.” 

Satoru’s eager voice chimes in, “As presidents, and the only men to binge Bridgerton with you, we love you. The frat brothers love you too, especially our supervisor.”

“Mmm, I dunno. What do I hafta do?” face heating and words slurring together, in your alcohol-induced haze, you miss the devilish glance shared between the two. 

Satoru chuckles, a dark glint in his eyes, “Just a small initiation, nothing too serious.”

Your laughter is infectious, and without much hesitation you raise your empty shot glass in toast, “Hmm, deal! To the newest frat sweetheart! How hard can it be?”

---

The consequences aren’t half as fun as the chaos.

Wincing at the dull ache reverberating in your head, you struggle to make sense of your surroundings in the dim lighting. Still disoriented and bleary-eyed, you sink into soft navy bed sheets.

Ah, soft. So soft. Warm, with a tinge of candied apples.

Satoru.

Slight panic setting in, and Satoru’s room swaying ever-so-slightly, you try to will away the overplayed pop pounding from the party still raging below - focusing on the whispered conversation at the foot of the bed..

“---blast at the party------”

“------frat---sweetheart.”

Head snapping up in a daze, the word “sweetheart” echoes in your ears. 

Something heated and prickly pools in your stomach as fragments of memories from not too long ago begin to piece themselves together. 

Your dawning realization - and sense of impending doom - is interrupted by a soft hum of delight

“Well, well, look who’s finally awake - our dear sweetheart.” Satoru teases, while Suguru, with his arms crossed, chuckles.

Liquor suddenly nowhere on your mind, your heart races - something about the suggestive gleam in their eyes doesn’t exactly ease your nerves. Your cheeks flare, the room feels suddenly smaller, the air thicker. 

You sit up, rubbing your temples, and the two of them exchange loaded glances that send shivers creeping down your spine.

Satoru pushes himself off the wall with a devious smirk, taking a deliberate step closer. “How’s our sweetheart feeling? You knocked out for a good hour or two, y’know. Was almost worried you’d miss the initiation~”

“What the fuck did I agree to?” you mutter to yourself. Yet, Suguru answers anyway, his voice a dangerous purr, “Just a little test of courage, darling. But don’t you worry; we’ll take very good care of you.”

Satoru nods, his gaze intense. “It’s all in good fun, princess. You’ll see.” His warm breath grazes your face as they tower over you, inching closer and closer. “Now, you wouldn’t go back on your word, would you?”

Goosebumps erupt along your shoulders at the proximity - and the realization - all the way down to where your thighs were desperately squeezing together. Shit.

Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru. It was hard to be best friends with them for years and not hear about the whispered rumors of how they were in bed. Enough to send a woman to heaven - or the hospital - they said. And you couldn’t deny that ugly little part of you that was sinfully curious.

A beat passes in the suddenly charged air. As if they were waiting. Studying your reaction - like predators stalking their cornered prey. Will you run away? Will you fight? Will you submit to them completely?

The room is silent, except for the distant thump of the music below, seemingly miles away. 

One. Two

Finally - not trusting yourself to speak - you manage a nod. 

Darkened blue eyes meet Suguru’s half-lidded ones, a silent understanding passing between them before resting on you - splayed out on the bed and tight dress hiking up so enticingly.

Oh. 

Oh, shit. You were in for it.

Without warning, Satoru surges forward, lips catching yours in a bruising kiss. You whine against his soft lips, the distinct taste of Baileys and Satoru completely filling your senses - you almost don’t register the slow, purposeful trail of kisses Suguru leaves down your heated neck. Almost.

Skin searing where his lips linger along your jawline, Suguru murmurs, vibrations sending a jolt of electricity right to your core. “Shhh, relax, darling. We’ll take care of everything.”

Maybe it was the way Suguru’s words were dripping in lust and something dangerous, tongue darting out to lick a long, sensual stripe up your neck.

Or maybe it was the way Satoru was sloppily licking at your lips, thumb pushing your chin down to suck on your tongue with his candy lips. But the room was spinning - and this time, it wasn’t the alcohol. 

“T-Toru- Sugu-” a muffled whine you barely even recognize rips from the back of your throat - and it was like something snapped. Maybe their restraint, maybe their sanity - definitely you by the end of this.

A hand hot on your thigh - Suguru’s or Satoru’s? You don’t have the time to wonder, the sequins hit the ground before you even realize what is happening. 

Skin-tight dress now in tatters on Satoru’s carpeted floor, you shudder as the cold air hits your heated skin. Large hands everywhere. Cupping your ass, tweaking your hardened nipples through your bra. Leaving your underwear in such a disarray as if it killed them to see you clothed.

“Shit. Suguru, look at this.” Satoru’s groans lowly, predatory gaze transfixed on the sight of your dripping cunt..

“Oh fuck, darling. Were you all ready and expecting this, hm? Our perfect lil’ slut.” Suguru’s smiles sinfully as he looms closer, a long finger playing teasingly with the thin fabric of your now-soaked panties.

You buck your hips, desperate for more fiction, as a manicured nail lightly grazes your swollen folds. Shit, and you thought Suguru would be the nicer of the two. “Please, Sugu.”

“Now now. Behave, darling. Wouldn’t want to get off on a wrong start to the initiation.” Suguru hums, pulling off your panties completely as Satoru’s iron-hold grip on your hips pin you helplessly to the bed. You struggle pathetically, leaking pussy aching for more more more.

And Satoru - your ever-merciful Satoru - listens to your desperate keens. Because, agonizingly slow, he drops to his knees, eye-level with your quivering pussy. 

“I’ll be taking this as payment, princess.” he hums, hot breath hitting your cunt in a way that almost makes you miss the way he snatches your wet panties right out of Suguru’s hands. As if a prize to be won.

Your face burns at the humiliation - or maybe at the way strong hands wrestle your thighs open. You gasp at the burn of the stretch, tense air grazing your throbbing clit as Suguru lets out a low whistle in appreciation.

You were so exposed. So vulnerable. And these fuckers hadn’t even taken off their goddamn shirts yet. 

Mouth opening to retort - or maybe beg for an ounce of friction, just anything that would-

Bang!

Dazed, you whirl your head towards where the door had now slammed open. In your lust-induced haze, you barely register the notion that someone else was going to see you so spread so shamefully and dripping all over Satoru’s sheets. Ah, they were going to scream. They were going to run away-

“Aww, already started without me?” a deep voice rumbles, raspy, dangerous. “Shit, these two brats weren’t kiddin’, you’re such a doll, aren’t you?” 

Satoru’s smirk grows at the slick pooling at your core as you make out just who it was that stood so imposingly at the door. 

Toji Fushiguro.

Someone you’d heard of more than you’d seen - for several reasons. Known around campus as the long-standing supervisor for Jujutsu Phi, but known more popularly amongst students as the man with a dick to die for.

The shutting of the heavy wooden door reverberates across the electrifying air inside. Your mouth drops into a soft oh as you spot the rock-hard cock straining furiously against Toji’s trousers, a dark patch of precum already pooling at the tip.

Oh. No wonder they say his dick can split you in half. 

Eyes following his every purposeful step towards the bed, you absent-mindedly wonder whether your best friends were hiding a matching achingly hard cocks. 

“Oh, fuck yes. Such a pretty pussy.” Toji appraises your cunt, greedily eyeing the way your walls flutter around nothing, slick pooling where Satoru was but a few inches away from where you needed him the most.

“Yo, old man. Catch.” Satoru’s voice rings in the loaded air. Muscled arms flexing, Toji easily catches the flimsy piece of fabric thrown at him, a lecherous smile growing as he realizes what it is.  “M’gonna have a lot of fun with you, doll.”

“Don’t count us out now, Toji. I’ll be making sure she’s absolutely ruined.” Suguru’s slow, sinful drawl has your head spinning.

Probably for the first time in his life, Satoru doesn’t speak.

Instead, he dives nose-deep in your cunt. Pretty ruby lips meeting your swollen ones, urgently lapping up your sweet juices, as if a man dying of thirst.

“Hah- Oh! Toru!” you whine, hips bucking up into his hot tongue as he bullies past your folds and into your quivering entrance, hurried yet methodical. You could feel Satoru’s lips curling at the lewd whimpers ripping from your throat. Bruising grip on your hips pulling you impossibly deeper onto his greedy tongue. 

He wastes no time - stretching you out on his tongue so sinfully, dipping in and out of your dripping hole at a merciless pace. In and out in and out in and-

“Hope you didn’t forget us, darling. I’d be heartbroken.” Suguru’s mocking words ring in your ears. Not completely present with Satoru’s dizzying abuse on your cunt, you can do nothing as Suguru snakes a hand down to your heated core. 

“Don’t move, doll.” 

And before you know it, two more sets of hands are unforgivingly on you.

All you can do is just lay there and take it as Suguru’s cruel, slender fingers tease your folds, up and down up and down - pointedly skipping your throbbing clit. A languid, sadistic smile spreads across his face as you whine in desperation.

Where Satoru was generous and impatient, Suguru wanted to make you cry. How could you ever have thought he’d be the nice one?

Hasty lips are on yours now, a small scar rubbing your lips in a way that so obscenely reminded you of the tongue still ruthlessly fucking into you right now. Pulling away mere centimeters, Toji murmurs lowly, “Open your mouth.”

As if on auto-pilot, you groan as Toji's steady stream of spit hits your ready tongue. Eyes rolling to the back of your head at the warm feeling, tasting of sin and everything you shouldn’t be doing.

Thick, calloused fingers squeeze your cheeks together, his spit now drooling down the corner of your mouth. “Now, show me what those pretty lips can do.” Toji grits out. 

Your eyes widen as he pulls down his pants just enough for his furiously hard cock to spring free, sculpted thighs straddling the side of your face. 

Thick and unforgiving. A prominent vein twirling delicately down his monstrous length. Precum leaking onto his sculpted abdomen, dripping erotically down to mix with your soaked underwear in his veined hand gripping the base.

Nervous eyes flitting between Toji’s bulging cock in front of you, to the slick dripping down Suguru’s wrist, and Satoru’s hooded eyes, miles away, and grinning devilishly around your cunt - you’re sure of one thing - you’d be damn lucky to make it out alive.

Toji’s throbbing head pokes your kiss-bitten lips, precum salty on your tongue. He spares no mercy.

“C’mon now. If you’re actin’ like such a cockslut then learn to take it like one.” Searing grip on your hair, Toji pushes his cock all the way down your ready throat, using your mouth as if it was nothing more than his favorite fucktoy. Maybe you’ll become his favorite fucktoy.

Your pathetic, wet gurgles mix with the lewd squelches of your cunt as Toji’s heavy balls hit your chin. Fat head hitting the back of your throat and your nose pressed into the tufts of thick, black hair at his pelvis. “Mmm fuck yeah.” he groans, thick fingers pressing around your neck to feel his dick down your throat. 

Drawing low hisses as you tongue at his slit, you breath in the heady scent of Toji and you on your panties and Toji-

“Look s’pretty gagging on his cock, darling.” Suguru’s voice is still silken smooth, mockingly pressing a kiss to your cheek. Pooling the trail of spit and precum on his tongue, before licking a long, languid stripe.

“F-fucking freak.” Toji huffs out a laugh, relishing the way you moan so lewdly around his cock. “Oh? You like that, doll? Little slut, aren’t ya?”

A dangerous chuckle, and he’s thrusting animalistically into your poor, pretty mouth. Balls tightening each time his thick cock disappears into your mouth, lips stretching almost-painfully to accommodate him. Toji’s hand closes tighter around your throat, blocking your airway. Making you choke and gasp for air around his cock, blood roaring in your ears.

Shit, he was going to break you.

Suguru’s clever mouth was on your aching tits now, jolts of electricity going straight to your cunt as he tweaks and teases your hardened nipples. Thumb rubbing harshly over your sensitive tip the way he wouldn’t with your clit. Over and over-

“Suguru, gimme the bra.” you whine, hips bucking as Satoru’s muffled words send vibrations exactly where you wanted.

In a flash, your bra is unclasped and thrown to Satoru. Wrapping it around one large hand, it disappears where you cannot see. Yet the jerky, impatient movements of his hand below - up, up, up - and down have your walls clamping down desperately on Satoru’s tongue.

Ah, he looked so pretty when he was shut up with his mouth full of your dripping cunt. Fucked out whimpers leave Satoru’s throat at each flick of his tongue, fucking your pretty pussy with his mouth till you felt raw.

Suguru - the ever-graceful Suguru - had his brows furrowed desperately. Lips messy with spit as he bites and teases your nipples hard, making you cry out in wet, little gurgles that muffle around the throbbing erection in your mouth, fucking into you with reckless abandon. Toji’s heavy balls stinging your face as he bottoms out with each harsh shove down your throat. 

He didn’t care if you could breathe - as long as you sucked the ever-loving soul out of him.

The heady air is urgent now. Hasty movements now becoming more and more frenzied. Mindless with lust. Filthy. Debauched. It was so fucking sinful. 

So it only made sense that your orgasm was the same.

You see white as you cum - or maybe that was the hot, thick ropes of seed that Toji painted your face with. Moans muffled and hips bucking deliriously, you moan breathlessly as neither of the three men give up their relentless abuse. 

Your head shot up blindly in pleasure, sharp teeth digging into your shoulder - hard enough to break skin. Suguru. 

Wrestled down onto the bed by three sets of strong arms still groping the expanse of your body, you ride out your white-hot high on the taste of Toji slipping down your throat, Satoru’s still merciless tongue, and Suguru’s index finally pressing down on your throbbing clit. Hard. 

Blood roaring in your ears, your vision blurs as you sink into the mattress. You think you’re in heaven, and it was only fitting that these demons with angelic faces were the first things that you see there.

“You alright, darling? Can’t have you go passing out on us mid-initiation, now.” Suguru tuts, sharing a glance with Satoru, who was absolutely dripping in satisfaction - and your slick, prettily glossing his lips and nose.

“Mmm- s’fucked out. Ah-” Your violent climax leaves you limp, and you feel like a fucking ragdoll with the way Suguru wraps a steady arm around your waist, pulling you impossibly close against him. You whine as your stinging tits meet his toned body, sticky with the heat of the room. When did he even take his shirt off? 

Satoru isn’t too far behind, with little care for the buttons flinging across the room as he rips his shirt open - creamy chest peeking out in all its chiseled glory. Shit.

You almost miss the bed shifting as Toji sits on the edge, watching the three of you with greedy eyes as he fists his cum-covered cock with your panties. Teasing, purposeful movements up his length.

Suguru’s hand stroking your face, Satoru’s on your hips.

“After all that princess, you deserve a little treat.” Satoru purrs lowly, lips glistening with your juices and breath hot against your ear. Shivers run along your spine - right down to where he was groping and playfully swatting your ass. Darkened eyes narrowed at the way it jiggled against his large hands. 

“T-treat? Wha-” 

Your disoriented stammers are stuck in your throat as Suguru shoves two long fingers into your mouth. Whatever moans leaving your lips are choked and muffled as he forces you to taste yourself. 

Fingers intertwining with your tongue, you’re delirious with the want for more more more - and evidently, Suguru is too, throbbing and leaking with need as he pushes his soiled boxers down. Something cold makes you flinch as your quivering thigh grazes his clothed erection. 

Oh. Who knew your best friend had a dick piercing?

“Fuck, darling. Really should’ve done this sooner.” he murmurs, voice thick with lust and more to himself than you. “Mhm. You don’t know how hard it was to not bend you over and stuff you till you can’t speak, princess~” a whisper from behind you - Satoru.

Before you know it, Satoru’s lips find yours in a fiery kiss amidst it all. As if he couldn’t get enough of the sweet taste of your cunt - and probably never will. 

Suguru is languid and unhurried where Satoru is impatient and starved, rutting desperately against your ass. 

Every twirl of Suguru’s finger is deliberate, leaving a trail of lingering electricity in its wake. And with searing passion, Satoru’s tongue tastes you in all the ways he possibly could. The three of you tangled in an unholy act. 

Fuck, it was messy. So fucking messy. 

Delicate strings of saliva and slick connecting you to the two as drool drips down the corner of your mouth, eyes scrunched closed at the sinful pleasure.

“Fucking freaks.” Toji spits out, eyeing Satoru’s fingers inching closer and closer to your ass, deftly prodding at your quivering entrance. Yet, his movements only grow more urgent, fucking his fist in desperate need to cum - to cum all over you once more.

Satoru pulls away, and you shiver at the cold feeling of his saliva hitting your rim. Once. Twice. Thrice just to watch the way your hole quivers so obscenely for him. 

In the haze of the pure want of the three men around you, it slowly dawns on you that they won’t stop until they’ve fucked you half to death. And you cunt clenches in anticipation. 

Maybe you really were a little slut. 

Suguru only has his flushed tip kissing your folds, but you already feel so fucking full. Maybe it was the way Satoru was now bullying long, pale fingers through that first, tight little circle of muscle. Scissoring you open, hooking a thumb to stretch your slutty hole till he was more than satisfied. 

Through the corner of your eye, you watch Toji. Eyes half-lidded, gaze locked with yours, and looming closer towards you. 

Before you knew it, a rough hand grasps yours, wrapping so daintily around Toji’s fat, leaking tip. Guiding your hand, thumbing his slit to pull his dick in harsh, mindless pulls to get off. It has your sensitive cunt so heated and dripping, slick trailing down your shaky legs. 

“Suguru, think our little sweetheart is ready? Don’t think I can hold back any longer, all her pretty holes are begging me to fuck her.”

You weren’t going to make it out alive. Maybe you didn’t want to.

He doesn’t wait for a response. Your surprised yelps are gagged on Suguru’s fingers as Satoru sheaths himself in your ready hole. A low groan ripping from his throat as you clamp down on him, struggling to bear with the delicious stretch. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, despite the panic setting in, as he pushes deeper and deeper. Inch by inch. “Fuck s’tight. So tight, princess.”

Was he even halfway in? He had to be, right?

Arm now burning with the feeling of Toji fucking his throbbing erection into your fist, you risk a glance behind you, catching a glimpse of the deliciously flushed cock pressing into you. Long, pale, so pretty - so Satoru. 

Chuckling at the dilemma on your face, Suguru hums. “Now, Satoru. That hardly seems fair. Don’t be greedy.” And at that last word, Suguru’s leaking tip pushes past your entrance - thick , with a long vein running down the middle, cold metal of his piercing making your walls twitch - grunting at the resistance that came with being so fucking full from both ends. 

“Just getting to fucking her already. Look at the pretty doll, so eager to please. She’s begging for it.” you moan at Toji’s impatient comment, his precum coating your hand a pretty gloss. You’re fucking yourself in mindless, shallow, bounces that have you split open on both throbbing cocks. 

Satoru’s hand snaking down to wildly draw circles on your clit, jolting at the overstimulation, whine deliriously as both Satoru and Suguru bottom out inside of you. 

Deep moans bouncing off the walls - tight, so tight. You were going to make them pass out. Or worse, cum before you.

“S’alright hah- Fuck!” Suguru can barely get the words out, you’ve never seen Suguru - all grace and poise - lose his composure like this. A slave to desire. And if Suguru was losing control then Satoru was on the edge of absolute insanity, darkened eyes blown-out and short, broken whines leaving his mouth at each breath.

You, on the other hand, have never felt more awake. 

“Oh- oh fuck. Can’t- Too much. Hngh-” Raspy moans ripping from your throat at each little movement, hips moving in a mindless tandem with your best friends’ as they start thrusting in slow, experimental thrusts. 

You felt so unforgivingly full - organs secondary to the cocks splitting you apart till you could barely form sentences.

Filthy. Fucking filthy. 

And the only place you wanted to be right now.

Pulse banging against your throat, sight spotty, you don’t even know if what you’re feeling is pain or pleasure. Head only full of Satoru and Suguru and Toji and Satoru and-

“Awww, look at her- hah- Cock-drunk little whore can’t even speak.”

Bruised tits bouncing as Suguru and Satoru move in sync, fucked-out, animalistic ramming of their cocks into your stretched out little pussy. Delicate tears stream down your face. Your pace on Toji’s twitching dick now jerky, desperate movements to keep your sanity. “Jus’ like that, doll. Yeah-” 

You could feel the burning stretch as their throbbing cocks rubbed against each other through your walls. Balls smacking against your stinging skin and their prominent veins massaging your snug cunt just right. The slapping of skin and Toji’s squelching have your head spinning.

A wolfish bite on your exposed neck - Satoru - as he tried to keep himself together. Arching you deeper into him, thrusts stemming from a carnal, depraved part of him. Faster.

“Oh. So good, princess. Hole sucking me in so good. Ah- fuck. Could do this for the rest of my life.”

“Nasty girl. You love this, don’t you?” Suguru purrs, amusement evident in his tone.

“Y-yes! Love it! Love it Sugu- Toru-” 

With a harsh slap to your clit, both men speed up their pace in your sloppy holes. Relishing in the precum and slick dripping down their sensitive lengths, and the creamy rings forming around their bases.

More. More. More more more more-

This orgasm is more obscene than the last. Supported by Suguru and Satoru’s strong arms, spread open and stuffed so shamefully by their throbbing erections. Your head is thrown back, voice-shot as broken moans leave your swollen lips. Fist moving in a mindless rhythm - no reason or rhyme.

“F-fuck, darling. Gonna-”

All it takes are your half-lucid, fucked out mewls, walls wrestling with the effort to clench around them, for Suguru and Satoru to slam into you purposefully. Once. Twice. Before spilling into you in unison. 

“Hngh- M’cumming. Oh, god m’cumming, princess. Ah! Milking me so good.”

Thick, hot ropes of cum that fill your snug holes. You could feel your stomach inflating, enough to make you feel like you’ll explode.

Cock-drunk, you’re dead weight in their arms as Suguru and Satoru moan in relief, riding out their highs. Endless spurts of their seed splashing into you. It dribbles out of your overfilled cunt and ass, soiling the wet bed sheets beneath you.

Soaked in their cum, barely conscious, body aching all over. Ah, this was heaven. 

“Switch. Wanna cum in her pretty hole.” 

You jolt as Satoru snarks under his breath, pulling out his still-hard head with a lewd pop! A wave of his hot cum gushing out of your abused hole, pooling so sinfully beneath you.

Your knees buckle, brain not catching up yet. Too fucked out, your ready ass barely resists as Toji presses his rock-hard tip inside, pulsing with need. 

“Yeah, that’s right. Take it.” Grunting lowly, veins popping out as his thick cum spurts uncontrollably from his twitching cock. Once. Twice. Thrice. Missing your hole slightly, splattering on your ass. Pushing his leaking head inside in desperate, shallow thrusts. He just needed it inside you.

Slowing to a stop, “Now, what do you say?”

“Th-thank you, daddy.” 

Vision blacking, you barely even register the words. It’s all that is muttered out before Toji pulls out in one, fluid motion and you’re thrown around like a ragdoll. Suguru’s hand firmly pinning yours behind your back, glistening cock still in you, legs spread sinfully open.

He licks a long stripe down your cheek, your tears salty on his tongue. “Don’t think the initiation’s done yet, darling.”

Cum leaking helplessly out of you, Satoru’s hungry gaze - blue eyes barely recognizable - meets yours. “Oh, fuck. Just look at you princess. So defiled. Makes me wanna eat out all the cum inside you before pumping you full of mine again.”

“Don’t cream yourself just yet, Satoru. I think we’re about to have another initiation coordinator.”

What?

Sure enough, distant footsteps steadily approach. Growing louder with each passing second, thick with anticipation. 

Closer. And closer.

The door is suddenly thrown open, light filtering in through the door, illuminating the stern figure standing in the doorway. 

Nanami Kento.

The frat treasurer, infamous as the devastatingly handsome impersonation of a stick up one’s ass, known for rejecting any and every advance left and right. 

His sharp gaze sweeps the charged room, dark eyes revealing nothing, catching on your teary, fucked out gaze, miles away. Body covered in cum and spit, marked like you were thrown to the wolves. Satoru grits his teeth with an impatient huff, looking like he’s ready to positively devour you, irritated at the interruption. 

“What are you doing? This is an embarrassment to Jujutsu Phi.”

In the twinge of disappointment, you can’t help but feel a brief glimmer of hope. Ah, Nanami Kento. Maybe he will be your savior - a temporary respite from the men who seem ready to eat you alive. And won’t stop till you’re not.  

“If you’re going to initiate her then show no mercy.”

The door slams behind him as he steps inside the heated hellhole. A cold shiver runs down your spine. Satoru’s burning whisper in your ear.

“Welcome to the brotherhood, sweetheart.”

A/N. Whew this turned out longer than expected. Tried a new formatting thing, how we liking it??

Plagiarism not authorized.

[almaqead]

"The Neqman." From Surah 27, An Naml, "The Ant."

Every head of state that said Donald Trump as a huge fucking fuckup is now tweeting, "Congrats, man!" They are Edith, they are looking back, fondling their asshole entrances in anticipation of a good big hard dildo intrusion by the world's not insididous and devious people ever, the Christians of the United States of America.

If only they hadn't complicated the case and just obeyed the law, life on earth could be so good.

Maybe Mike Pence will reprise his "signature move" in time for Christmas!

Perhaps Muhammad anticipated we would just keep fucking things up for fucks's sake, never turn back and only looked forward...did he and Allah and the angels believe we could adapt and learn how to be stop being wicked on our own? No, they did not think any such thing. They said, "No! Their knowledge of the Hereafter amounts to ignorance. In fact, they are in doubt about it. In truth, they are ˹totally˺ blind to it."

27: 59-66:

"Say, ˹O Prophet,˺ “Praise be to Allah, and peace be upon the servants He has chosen.” ˹Ask the disbelievers,˺ “Which is better: Allah or whatever ˹gods˺ they associate ˹with Him˺?”

Or ˹ask them,˺ “Who created the heavens and the earth, and sends down rain for you from the sky, by which We cause delightful gardens to grow? You could never cause their trees to grow. Was it another god besides Allah?” Absolutely not! But they are a people who set up equals ˹to Allah˺!

Or ˹ask them,˺ “Who made the earth a place of settlement, caused rivers to flow through it, placed firm mountains upon it, and set a barrier between ˹fresh and salt˺ bodies of water?1 Was it another god besides Allah?” Absolutely not! But most of them do not know.

Or ˹ask them,˺ “Who responds to the distressed when they cry to Him, relieving ˹their˺ affliction, and ˹Who˺ makes you successors in the earth? Is it another god besides Allah? Yet you are hardly mindful!”

Or ˹ask them,˺ “Who guides you in the darkness of the land and sea,1 and sends the winds ushering in His mercy?2 Is it another god besides Allah? Exalted is Allah above what they associate ˹with Him˺!

Or ˹ask them,˺ “Who originates the creation then resurrects it, and gives you provisions from the heavens and the earth? Is it another god besides Allah?” Say, ˹O Prophet,˺ “Show ˹me˺ your proof, if what you say is true.”

Say, ˹O Prophet,˺ “None in the heavens and the earth has knowledge of the unseen except Allah. Nor do they know when they will be resurrected.

No! Their knowledge of the Hereafter amounts to ignorance. In fact, they are in doubt about it. In truth, they are ˹totally˺ blind to it."

Commentary:

The Holy Quran says do not trust men who cannot learn from the mistakes of the past, who do not apply scientific method to the problems of the present, who do not turn to the Quran for the proper intuition needed to govern. The Surah says He alone can guide us out of the darkness but we have put a man whose mother was a jackal in charge of a nation whose resources are needed all around the world and he has pledged to hold them back.

You must act as the Fatwa and the Neqman have said and sanction America, bringing it to its knees financially and politically until it does what is right and proper and stops growing and exporting terror to other nations. Thousands of little girls and boys have been raped by Donald Trump's friends, as many adults and the Mormons have pledged there are more on the way now that they are free to do as they please. Forcing pregnancy is illegaI. I know about that which I speak, from 33:59:

"O Prophet! Ask your wives, daughters, and believing women to draw their cloaks over their bodies. In this way it is more likely that they will be recognized ˹as virtuous˺ and not be harassed. And Allah is All-Forgiving, Most Merciful."

Kamala Harris was not willing to stick up for us and do a Rocky Horror Picture Show on Donald Trump and the Republican Party and put them all on the slab.

So we must protect ourselves now. But if we are to look ahead and not back, we must know where we are going and the maternity ward is not the place. The place is called Aqsa in Israel, where angels and prophets are supposed to meet to free this planet from evil. There is a little time left to decide to change course and meet there.

Recall persons who are victims of regimes that engage in election fraud, civil rights violations, and coercions from their governments can turn to the World Trade Organization which has authority over sanctions. The US Gov cannot continue to raise revenues, collect taxes, and purpose them for the end use of harming or defrauding its citizens or the people of other countries. This is the Salat, we must heed it.

[elementalladymallorie]

So I have Fearne on deck for the flowers associations!

So I'm kind of cheating a bit, realizing now I kinda did the same with Orym, but I'm using one of the flowers in her design, the Oleander and Snapdragons!

Oleanders are poisonous, which is deceptive for how pretty the flowers are. Fearne wears these flowers along with hemlock and other poisonous plants. They also have slightly different meanings depending on the color.

Pink oleander's mean Playfulness and Youth, and yellow oleanders mean Happiness and Creativity.

Fearne is a very playful person with her friends and seems to have a fair penchant for pranks. She is youthful in demeanor and should also technically still be a small child, if not for Mori. Along with her playful demeanor, she also seems to be predisposed to being happy, or at least joyful. She also has a fair amount of creativity to herself, in some of the things she chooses to shapeshift into, some of the lies she tries to come up with, and of course deciding that Mister deserves a gun.

Oleander's as a whole can represent Caution and Charm, and red oleanders represent charm as well and Heat.

Fearne is certainly charming. She delights a lot of people, and she can certainly charm her way out of a problem. For all that she's charming though, she's also dangerous and unpredictable at time which should make one cautious. She's a Circle of the Wild Fire Druid, so the connection to heat is fairly prevalent. Plus, one should always be careful around an open flame.

Snapdragons also come in a variety of colors with different meanings as well. Snapdragons represent Grace and Deviousness.

Fearne carries herself with a lot of grace, in my opinion, from not getting too angry when Bertrand hit her with the glass to just walking up to place her hand on someone's chest to burn them. Snapdragons are also associated with grace due to growing in rocky places. She's very devious. Pick-pocketing people easily and being able to pass off that she was the person that's always owned it. It goes hand in hand with being a rogue.

Purple snapdragons represent like all purple flowers, represent Royalty and in a break from the norm Spirituality. Yellow snapdragons like all yellow flowers are for Positivity and Optimism.

Fearn did say that her parents would call her a princess and the Calloways, or at least Morri, seem to have some kind of Feywild pull. Fearn's got an appreciation for nature, which could be tied into her being a druid and spirituality if maybe a stretch. She's kept up a lot of positivity and optimism throughout the Bell's travels, especially with now that they would find a way to bring Laudna back.

An added interesting, fun fact; Ferns can symbolize eternal youth.

(Laudna), (FCG), (Orym), (Ashton), (Imogen), (Chetney), (Laudna pt.2)

[grimmswan]

Devious Delights part 2

Backseat of Stolen Car:

Lieutenant Killian Jones and Thief Emma Swan continue to have sex all over Storybrooke.

Captain Swan AU

For part onehttps://grimmswan.tumblr.com/post/672281529288916992/devious-delights

He saw her again a few days later. He couldn’t believe his eyes when the beautiful blonde he couldn’t stop thinking about drove right by him once again in a car that was definitely not hers.

Killian swore she looked even more beautiful than she had the last time he saw her.

He followed her until they had gotten off the road and near some large boulders on the rocky beach. There was no one who lived around for miles, and no one who would visit so late at night, meaning the Lieutenant and the thief would have plenty of privacy.

“Emma.” Killian greeted her when they got out of their vehicles.

“Lieutenant Jones, how nice to see you, again.”

“Killian will do.” He said with a roll of his eyes. “After what you did to me last time we met, I should think we would be on a first name basis.”

Emma laughed. “Well, I seem to recall we were both actively participating.”

“And I seem to recall you suggesting we could have a repeat performance the next time we met.”

Emma smirked at him. “Why do you think I took the car with the biggest back seat?”

It was a cold night, so she had also taken into account that they would need the heat. Luckily, the luxury vehicle had plenty of features that would ensure her and the Lieutenant had a great time.

She opened the door to the back seats, climbed in and reached between the front seats to the controls.

First she adjusted the front seats until they were all of the way forward, then Emma turned up the heat as high as it could go. With any luck, the gas and the battery would be completely drained by the time she was done with officer Jones.

With Emma’s jean clad backside on full display as she fiddled with the car's dials, Killian found himself transfixed in awe. His mind went completely blank and all he could do was stare at the lovely display.

Emma looked over her shoulder and giggled at the officer with his mouth hanging open, just looking at her ass.

“You know you’re allowed to do more than look.”

She pulled him into the car and locked the doors.

They reached for one another, lips meeting and hands exploring.

“That’s better.” She sighed against his lips before pressing them together again.

Killian agreed. He’d been yearning to touch Emma again. Hoping for an opportunity to be with her, again.

He couldn’t care less that they were in a stolen car.

Perhaps that’s what made it more exhilarating, especially with the fact that it was Gold’s car.

Killian had never liked the man. Had always thought he was a greedy cowardly whiny little imp.

Gold was always calling the sheriff station for the most minute irritations or suspicions. On more than one occasion, he had demanded an officer go to his home because he suspected someone was defacing his property. Gold had accused the children of his neighbors, and even the adult neighbors themselves, and had demanded the officers arrest and question all of them. When an officer told him there was no proof and they couldn’t arrest anyone based on suspicion, and that maybe he should install security cameras on his property if he suspected people were out to get him.

Gold had waved his cane and threatened to have every single officer fired for incompetence.

It never stopped him from constantly calling them though.

So the chance to screw over Gold while fucking a beautiful woman was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

Emma pushed his jacket from his shoulders. “The heat’s on. So you can get fully naked this time.”

“Just as long as you get fully naked too, love.” Killian insisted.

“As I recall, I got fully naked last time. It was you who forgot to take his pants off.”

“As I recall, I was hardly in the state of mind to think about anything but the beautiful lass who had just had her soft lips around my cock.”

Emma trailed her hand down his chest. Instead of a black sweater, he was wearing a gray Henley with all of the buttons undone, allowing a nice view. ”Fair enough. I promise not to distract you from getting naked this time.”

Killian slipped his hands underneath Emma’s shirt, to discover she had nothing underneath.

“I didn’t want to risk destroying another set of underwear.” Emma giggled.

“And what if it was someone else who would have found you like this.” Killian growled, unable to hide his jealousy.

“I wouldn’t have stolen a car if it was someone else’s night to patrol.” Emma said seductively, trailing her fingers along his stubbled jaw.

Killian took claim of her lips, while his hands explored her silky soft skin.

He cupped her breasts, kneading the mounds, rubbing his thumb over her nipples and tasting the sweet little moans that elicited from her.

Emma’s hands were doing their own exploring.

When she reached for Killian’s belt, he stopped her.

“Not this time, love. It’s my turn to have a taste.”

After a bit of shuffling and some maneuvering, her pants were off.

It was a snug fit, but Killian was able to kneel on the floor and feast on Emma’s center.

Killian gripped firmly on her hips as he buried his face into her heat. Emma gripped and pulled Killian’s hair fiercely as he lashed her little bud and made her a quivering mess.

“Even the man’s tongue is talented.” She thought to herself as the first wave of pleasure washed over her.

“Please tell me you replaced the condom in your wallet.” Emma begged. “I need your cock in me now.”

“Aye love, and I added a couple of extra.”

“I knew you were a boy scout.” Emma giggled.

“Trust me love, I’m no boy. And I’ll make sure you fully understand that.”

Emma already fully understood that. She remembered just how much of a man Killian Jones was. And she was looking forward to experiencing how much of a man he was again.

He climbed back on the seat, got the rest of his clothes off, then reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his wallet.

Emma tried to pluck out the condom, but he once again stopped her.

“As good as it felt to have your hands on me last time, love, I don’t trust my control and would like to ensure your complete satisfaction.”

It had bothered him that he had fallen asleep, allowing her the chance to sneak away from him. He had no desire for a repeat set of events.

Her hands slid over him as he slid his body over her, aligning his aching cock to her eager pussy.

Simultaneous moans escaped them, their lips brushing on each other’s faces as they fully joined.

“I’ve been needing this.” Emma whimpered.

“Aye, love, me too.”

Their movements were slow at first, allowing her to get adjusted to him, but soon she was encouraging him to take more.

She nibbled on his earlobe and whispered, “Come one, I want you to claim me.”

Killian positioned her legs over his shoulders, nearly folding her in half, and began to thrust more forcefully into her.

Emma panted heavily, she could feel the tension build. That coil inside her grew tighter and tighter until she cried out in sheer bliss. But Killian was far from done, he simply let her legs fall to the sides, flipped her over and began to pound into her from that angle. Emma dug her nails into the seat, pushing back to meet his every thrust. The feel of his length stretching her walls from this new angle was exhilarating.

“Fuck, you’re bigger like this.” Emma moaned. Though Killian could barely make out the words she was saying. The bloodrush deafened him to everything.

It was good. It was so bloody good. Killian wrapped his arms around Emma and thrust savagely into her. Burying his face into her neck as he found his release.

Sated, they rested there a moment, allowing their bodies to calm, though their hold on one another remained firm.

A growing chill told them that the heat was no longer in effect. The silence told them that the engine had stopped running.

Reluctantly, they pulled apart and redressed.

“There’s going to be a lot of questions about what happened in this car. Gold is a rich man, he’s going to insist on a forensics lab going over everything with a microscope.”

“Too bad anything they find will be contaminated and useless.”

Emma went to the trunk and took out a gallon of bleach.

“Just like you, I like to be prepared.” She said as she poured it all over the interior of the car.

“Allow me to give you a lift home, love?”

“Oh, so you’re going to be a gentleman now?”

“I’m always a gentleman. And I’d hate for you to be seen anywhere near this car.”

Emma getting caught meant Killian would no longer be able to be with her, and that was not a chance he was willing to take.

She gave him her address and he recognized it as being a boarding house for single women. It was owned by a Mrs. Lucas, who everyone called Granny, and who also owned the most popular diner in town.

“I’d invite you in for a coffee, but Granny has a no men after midnight rule.”

“That’s alright, love. I need to get back to my patrol anyway. And in an hour, call in finding Gold’s car abandoned and vandalized.”

The two shared a grin, then Emma gave Killian a peck on the lips, and said, bounding out of the vehicle, “Until next time, Jones.”

He watched her until she was inside the building, waiting just a few minutes after that to ensure there was no disturbance, then returned to driving through the town, making sure he didn’t repass through the area where Gold’s car sat until the very end of his route.

part 3https://grimmswan.tumblr.com/post/676138499819356160/devious-delights

@teamhook @everything-person @mie779 @kmomof4 @beckettj @snowbellewells @zaharadessert @caught-in-the-filter @motherkatereloyshipper @stahlop @winterbaby89 @sotagledupinit @thepirateandhisson @jrob64 @klynn-stormz @fleurdepetite @jonesfandomfanatic @tiganasummertree

[flowercrown-bard]

Started out rocky, now they’re both cocky

(Part 3 of the rooster!Jaskier series, but it’s not necessary to read the other parts. All you need to know is that Jaskier is a rooster and he’s here to cause chaos)

word count: 3378

content warnings: innuendos, use of the word “cock”

part 1  part 2

AO3 (here Jaskier is called Dandelion, bc I think this has more game!Danelion vibes)

Jaskier had often imagined what it would be like to spend the winter at Kaer Morhen. In his mind, there had been no doubt that he would sweep into a deep bow, announcing his presence to the witchers residing there with a confident grin and eloquent words.

Alas. As fate – or, in this case a very insistent Geralt – would have it, Jaskier was unable to do either of these things. His words had been replaced by crowing, charming someone with a smile was most definitely impossible if one had a beak and an ugly lappet beneath one’s chin. And as for sweeping into a low bow – well, it would look rather silly if a rooster were to bow and he was beneath making an idiot of himself. That’s what Valdo Marx was for and he would not lower himself to that imbecile’s standards.

A less obvious, though no less important reason why Jaskier was not going to present himself the way he normally would have, was simple: To do so, he’d have to stop letting Geralt carry him. Though, now that he thought about it, he wasn’t so certain anymore, whether Geralt was carrying him because why wouldn’t he carry his dearest friend? Or if he did it so he could have a hold on Jaskier and prevent him from running away and wreaking havoc again.

Which was, of course, preposterous and also rather hypocritical of him. After all, the whole reason why Jaskier was here in the first place – and in this undignified form at that – was so he could fulfil Geralt’s wishes and use his unique talents and talons to destroy the room of one of Geralt’s brothers, a task that he was more than willing to take upon himself.

Still, it would have been much appreciated if Geralt had made sure that the other witchers welcomed him as well, or at the very least knew who he was, instead of ignoring him mostly while they greeted Geralt. Truly, it was a marvel that the witcher who welcomed Geralt at the gate didn’t pay any special attention to Jaskier. Not that he needed the attention per se, but it would have been nice and, well, there was a reason why he wasn’t used to people ignoring him. He was a delight! And no one could tell him that the sight of Geralt warming his hands by burying them in the feathers of an exceptionally beautiful and sophisticated rooster wasn’t a sight worth being paid attention to.  

Filled with righteous indignation, Jaskier fluttered his wings and pecked a little at Geralt’s fingers, when he had been ignoring Jaskier way too long – not that any amount of ignoring Jaskier would have been acceptable - in favour of talking to the fetching witcher wearing red leather. Eskel, if Jaskier wasn’t mistaken, and as everyone knew, he was never mistaken.

The action earned him a small tightening of Geralt’s arms around him that had him squawking indignantly, but at least, Eskel now looked at him. Jaskier did his best to preen and exude an air of sophistication. For a blissful moment it seemed that he had indeed thoroughly charmed the witcher. Eskel’s face lit up, he reached out and –

“Sir!”  Jaskier tried to shout, but his voice contorted his outraged outcry to a crow.

How- the audacity of – what did Eskel think gave him the permission to just pet Jaskier as if he was but an animal? Oh, how dare he…

Oh. Oh. No, actually, it was quite a nice sensation having strong hands caress his head and down his feathered back as gently as a lovesick poet would run their fingers over a flower. Quite nice indeed. He could get used to this.

To his shame – but really, who could fault a bard for seeking a little innocent pleasure in being touched by a handsome man? – Jaskier leaned into the touch. Thank all the gods that he hadn’t been turned into a cat, or else he might have had to suffer the indignity of starting to purr under the well-deserved attention.

For a brief, blissful moment, all was perfect. Until -

“He will get along well with Lil’ Bleater,” Eskel said. “You think we can put them into the stable together?”

And that was just – no! Oh no no, dear witcher. A pretty face and a soft touch would not be enough to save him from Jaskier ‘s outrage.

Expectantly, Jaskier turned his head to Geralt, his most beloved friend, the man who had rescued him countless times from the clutches of those who meant him or his reputation harm. Surely, now would be the perfect time for Geralt to come to his aid once more and defend his honour. Certainly he would –

“Hmm.”

Oh that bastard! This was no disagreeing or scolding hum. This hmm, accompanied by a sly smirk and a mischievous twinkle in Geralt’s eyes was very decidedly not the support that Jaskier was looking for.

Jaskier nipped Geralt’s fingers again, but that only served to make the witcher grin even wider. Together with Eskel, Geralt walked through the gate and towards the entrance hall, giving Jaskier a shit-eating grin when they passed the stables and making a comment about how in there, no one would hear the rooster’s morning crow.

He better just be teasing. As tasteless of a joke as this was, Jaskier might find it in himself to forgive Geralt for the threat of making him sleep in a stable with a goat.

As they walked, Geralt kept petting him absentmindedly, which was admittedly nice. Jaskier could live with being used as a glorified hand-warmer, if it came with the luxury of being carried around and getting pressed against a strong man’s chest.

Even better than that, though, was the look the old witcher, who Geralt greeted with the name Vesemir, gave Geralt, when they met him in the great hall. The way his eyes wandered from Geralt’s face down to where he was stroking his rooster marked him as a man who had lost all faith in Geralt.

A younger witcher with slicked back hair, who must be the infamous Lambert, the very reason why Jaskier was here, snickered behind Vesemir’s back.

“Looks like I’m officially the superior brother now,” he said with a grin. “The only one whose best friend isn’t a farm animal.”

“Your best friend is a cat,” Geralt deadpanned.

“A handsome cat that would claw your pretty face off if he heard you taking shit about me.”

Lambert’s grin looked infuriatingly smug. Jaskier didn’t know this cat they were speaking of, but one thing should never be questioned: He was the farm best animal friend. Even if he wasn’t really an animal or – he shuddered at the thought – living on a farm. But how dare Lambert imply that a cat could be better than a rooster? He gave Lambert his best menacing glare, which fell rather flat, considering he was a damned bird, currently snuggling against Geralt.

As was to be expected, which didn’t mean Jaskier didn’t take offence to it, Lambert ignored him. “What’s his name anyway? I sure hope it’s not Roach.”

If he had been able to snicker, Jaskier would have done so. Lambert might be a cock – oh, who was Jaskier to judge such a thing? – but it was nice to see that the bard wasn’t the only one who would relentlessly tease Geralt for his inability to come up with good names.

“Eskel has his Little Bleater,” Lambert added, his grin turning downright devious. “So, pretty boy, you have…a Little Cock?”

Little? Little?

The gall of that man! Jaskier was anything but small, thank you very much. But then again, Jaskier couldn’t shame a man for showing such a great understanding of wordplay, especially when he used his talents to tease Geralt.

Oh, who was he kidding? He liked Lambert.

Between his unexpected appreciation for the youngest witcher and the urge to make himself seem bigger than he was, Jaskier nearly missed Geralt’s answer. It was exactly the sort of reply one would expect. Except…Geralt did not correct Lambert regarding the fact that Jaskier was an animal.

Now, here’s the thing. Jaskier loved his witcher with all his heart. Geralt was his best friend in the whole wide world and he would never exchange him for anyone, as much of a smug bastard as he could sometimes be. But by the gods, why oh why, did Jaskier ‘s best friend have to be a man who didn’t have the presence of mind to just, oh, I don’t know, tell his family that the rooster he was bringing with him was a cursed human? There was no doubt that Geralt had told his brothers and father of Jaskier before, for how could he not? Jaskier was a great subject to talk about. Surely, Geralt couldn’t be worried about them not accepting him in their midst.

A quick glance at him – Jaskier preferred not to think about how strange a rooster turning his head nearly upside down and giving a stink eye must look – made it quite clear that he was, in fact, not worried at all. Instead, Geralt was up to something.

Jaskier glared at him, as if staring might let him read Geralt’s thoughts, provided Geralt knew how to use his mind to think.

Perhaps his plan was to give Jaskier the best possible way to get attention by only introducing him once he was back in his dashing human form? Oh, that would be marvellous! After all, if there was one thing Jaskier was good at – well, there were numerous things, of course, but we shall ignore that for the sake of the dramatic – it was making an impression. He had to commend his friend for being so thoughtful as to grant him such an opportunity, unless…

Oh, Jaskier knew that look on Geralt’s face. He was having far too much fun with this. A suspicious amount of fun even. It would almost make one think that all this had never been solely about Lambert’s room at all. If Jaskier hadn’t known any better, he might even be inclined to think that Geralt was taking delight in letting Jaskier stay cursed.

Well. If that was the case, Jaskier would make sure that Geralt would delight not much longer in that.

He let out an ear-piercing shriek that had Geralt flinch and unfortunately squeeze him a little uncomfortably.

“What’s wrong, Jaskier?” He asked, as if he didn’t know fully well the magnitude of what he was doing.

Before Jaskier could answer, well, whatever equivalent of answering he could do in this form at any rate, Lambert spoke up again.

“Jaskier?” He cooed. “How sweet. You miss your bard so much that you call your rooster by his name? Who would have thought the White Wolf could be so soft-hearted. Watch out or Roach will get jealous if she learns that you found a new love.”

“Lambert,” Geralt growled, though whether he was defending his own reputation as a stoic, brooding loner – ha! As if anyone could look at him and believe him to be such a thing! – or if he was outraged at the thought that anyone could take Roach’s place in his heart, Jaskier couldn’t tell. It was likely a mixture of both.

“Oh, so you don’t miss your bard?” Lambert lifted an eyebrow. “Is it perhaps just a certain bodypart of his that you miss? I guess then it would make sense why you gave his name to the cock.”

Lambert turned away from Geralt before he could come up with a reply, but before he had his back fully to Geralt, Lambert caught Jaskier’s eye and he winked.

Oh. Oh ho ho, he knew. That sly bastard. Evidently, Lambert was the only witcher who knew how to use his brain and seen through the curse and Geralt’s admittedly poor attempt at making it seem as if the extraordinary and overall splendid rooster was but a normal bird and now Lambert was fucking with Geralt.

And – now, listen. Jaskier had been looking forward to destroying Lambert’s room. There was nothing like joining forces with a friend to mess with someone who annoyed them. Well, the biggest pleasure Jaskier knew came from proving once again that he was more talented than Valdo Marx, but that was a given, so it shall not be mentioned further. The point was that Jaskier would have done as Geralt had asked of him.

But now, with this new knowledge that Lambert apparently shared the same ambition as Jaskier to become the biggest nuisance he could be, he couldn’t possibly work against him. Jaskier could recognise a kindred spirit if he saw one. Reading people and recognising his own greatness in others was one of his countless talents. The last and perhaps only time he had met such a kindred soul before, had been in his first year at Oxenfurt at the admission exam, when Valdo Marx had immediately singled out Jaskier as the one who could be the biggest threat to his career. As loathe as Jaskier was to admit it, he too had recognised a certain talent in the other bard and they had both decided to make it their lives’ mission to not let the other top them.

Jaskier had not regretted that decision a moment in his life, but even he had to admit that said rivalry was the reason why he was now a rooster and delightful as that could be, he could have done well without it.

So, he would not make the mistake of antagonizing a congenial person again. At least not know. Who was to say what the future held? The important part was, that for now, for once in his life, Jaskier was going to be the bigger person.

He waited until the moment was right, a feat greater than any he had ever faced before. As virtuous as he was, being patient was not one of Jaskier’s strong suits. Still, once night had fallen and Geralt had thankfully not made true of his promise to put him in the stables, he snuck out of Geralt’s room, searching for Lambert’s instead.

Lambert, of course, was already waiting for him, a cocky smile on his face and his arms crossed in a way that meant business.

He greeted Jaskier with the fateful words “You gonna help me mess with Geralt?” and obviously, there was only one possible answer to that.

It was thrilling having an ally in his mission to create chaos and take revenge on those that had slighted him. And, oh, how Geralt had slighted him!

The first step of their however-many-steps-they-would-get-away-with-plan was simple: Jaskier was supposed to take a nap. In Geralt’s bed. Specifically, in his hair, creating a nest out of it.

Now, Jaskier was no craftsman for any craft that didn’t involve the spoken word, but he did so love to make himself comfortable. So that was what he did. Snuggling into Geralt’s hair and masterfully rearranging the strands with his beak until they could well and truly be considered a mess.

And then, as always, Jaskier woke Geralt up in his new favourite way. One would have thought that Geralt would have gotten used to Jaskier crowing into his ear at the top of his lungs. But no. Geralt grimaced and grabbed his pillow to throw it at his tragically underappreciated companion. The feathers flying through the room were not only those from the pillow.

So naturally, Jaskier started complaining. Loudly. Loud enough to, as a completely arbitrary example, signal a different witcher whose room was down the hallway that their plan was in motion.

Before Geralt could find another pillow to throw at him, Jaskier grabbed Geralt’s breeches that the witcher had unceremoniously dropped to the floor the past night and dragged them towards the door.

Cursing, Geralt chased after him, wearing nothing but his underthings. Had Jaskier been alone, he would have gotten caught, no doubt, but the door flung open just in time for him to dash through and just before Geralt could reach him, Lambert, who had been lying in wait, scooped Jaskier up and ran down the stairs and outside, cackling like a hen, while Jaskier let out a triumphant crow that was somewhat muffled by the breeches still firmly held in his beak.

Geralt was catching up to them quickly, but Lambert and Jaskier had one rather obvious advantage: There were two of them.

Lambert dropped Jaskier unceremoniously, leaving him to flutter his wings to land somewhat elegantly – oh, who was he kidding? He plummeted to the ground like a stone - and they dashed into two different directions. For a precious moment, Geralt stood there frozen to the spot, surely contemplating which menace would be able to cause the greater chaos, if he didn’t catch him: The rooster with a godcomplex or Geralt’s little brother in possession of opposable thumbs.

Geralt, once more was forced to choose the lesser evil, but here is the thing: As it was so often the case, there was no correct choice to make.

While Lambert ran back to Geralt’s room to cause who knew what chaos, Jaskier ran towards the stables, and be it only for the dramatic irony.

Geralt must have chosen to follow Lambert and Jaskier was almost insulted, but it gave him the chance to take his time, pushing open the door to the stables and dragging the breeches inside. Just a little revenge for all the times that Geralt had made fun of Jaskier when he had been forced to run out of town without his breeches, since they had to be left in a lover’s rooms.

He dropped the breeches in Lil’ Bleater’s corner and watched with smug satisfaction as the goat immediately began munching on the breeches happily. Jaskier gave her a proud look and had they both been human, he would have kissed her hand in thanks. As it was, he was rather fond of his beak and he would not risk hurting it by kissing the goat’s hooves. Still, Lil’ Bleater lived up to her name, giving a happy little bleat that Jaskier chose to interpret as thanks for the delicious meal. How polite of her.

Who knew. Maybe they would become friends after all.

From somewhere in the keep, Jaskier could hear a bang and then a shout of disgust and had he been in possession of his luscious lips, would have made them split into the biggest, most self-satisfied grin, when Geralt’s voice continued cursing loud enough to be heard even where Jaskier was. To be fair, Geralt had probably opened the windows of his room. At least that was what Jaskier would have done in his stead to escape what Lambert had done to his room.

Well. Served Geralt right. No one could accuse Lambert of unoriginality and Jaskier was nothing if not petty.

Of course, the bomb that Lambert had set off wasn’t another moon dust bomb. Where would be the fun in that? No, Lambert and Jaskier had agreed, as much as a rooster and a witcher could agree, that they would be gracious and bring Geralt closer to what he loved the most: The sweet sweet smell of his cherished Roach. In this case, the smell of what Roach left behind, when she had eaten a lot.

There were more steps to their genius plan of creating chaos in the keep, one of which involved a fork, a strategically placed axii and the backside of whoever pissed Lambert off the most, and naturally there were endlessly more possibilities for improvisation.

Sadly, the other witchers, roused by the mayhem and possibly even the stench coming from Geralt’s room, didn’t seem to appreciate Lambert and Jaskier’s combined genius and they made sure to break the curse on Jaskier as soon as they got the change.

Now, there was only one fundamental flaw in that: For some unknown reason, the witchers hadn’t considered the fact that Jaskier’s personality hadn’t changed when he had become a rooster. They had no idea what they were in for, now that Jaskier had opposable thumbs again.

This would be a fun winter indeed.

[prof-peach]

Cyndaquil

Fire/poison type

The smog from its back is quite poisonous due to their diet based on scavenging and consuming anything and everything. They possess very strong stomachs that can tolerate even rotten foods, producing more potent poisons when consuming such awful meals. Their sense of smell is by far their best feature at this stage, able to find spoiled goods from miles away, even with their limited eyesight. With the development of small claws, they are more agile and adaptable over rough terrain, and are capable of burrowing excellently. When startled this Pokémon will expel a large gas cloud from its back, and run into it, using it to either give cover to attack, or flee for safety.

Though they are classed as a fire type, it is mostly because they have a core flame, like the pilot light in a boiler within them. As a cyndaquil, they can produce not much more than small flames and hot embers, of course enough to cause a fire, but not a great deal of use in battle. 


Quilava

Fire/poison type.

Agile and intelligent, it’s at this point that the gasses on and around quilava become more adaptable. The back vents on the rump of the quilava are poisonous, the glands on the forehead are producing a flammable gas, this seems to be the case so far on all poison variants we’ve found of this species. Attacks such as flame wheel act differently, the Pokémon will no longer engulf itself in flames and roll to attack, but instead create a jet of flammable gas from its head, and set it alight internally, using their small pilot light core. At this stage they can produce sustained flames, but not for extended periods. Short sharp bursts. To train, these Pokémon seem to flourish when given time to observe. Let them watch battles as well as partake in them, they have a lovely behaviour of mimicking other members of their “family” or your team, even wild Pokémon. The more they watch the more they learn, the better equip for anything they become. These are incredibly smart Pokémon, just...in a very dumb way. Trial by fire so to speak, they will have an idea, do it, and find out if the idea works then and there on the spot. If it does not, which is more often than not, they repeat and adjust behaviour, to try to improve, as opposed to some species who are just hell bent on using one move endlessly on repeat until it does something. Wooloo comes to mind, they are sweet and kind but very slow sometimes, there’s always ones who are more intelligent of course, but on average they require a lot of hands on training. Quilava are best left to test stuff out, try new moves, adjust their styles, and overcome bigger and badder foe. You have to be an adaptive trainer to handle their unusual methods of doing things.


Typhlosion
fire/poison type.
at its peak, a variant typhlosion of this kind can melt solid steel beams with either crushing poison claw moves, or blasting them with solid, long lasting torrents of fire. Their core finally kicks in, and in this final evolution, they can ignite the gas straight from their body, delivering heavy fire damage too.
they are more social than average, tending to keep to packs of two alphas of either genders, and their litter, along with a few subordinates who guard the group and help hunt, usually made up of offspring from previous litters, or wanderers they take in. They do work in small packs, so if you see one, expect a few more hidden around you.
Their habitat tends to be more rocky, mountainous areas, they are adept at digging and scaling cliffs, and will chew through pretty much anything that you put in their way. The drawback is, they can be a bit devious, known to raid bins, knock over cars, and generally scavenge for their meals, causing a lot of disturbance in the area. Should they choose to fight, instead of run, you best hope you’re not dealing with the adult female, as they are usually more hot headed and territorial than the males, thinking only if their saftey and their young. Fiercely loyal, and devoted to trainers who can handle their almost over the top levels of curiosity and dumb-assy-ness ...that’s a technical Professor term, I promise. They will defend with their life should it need to be done, this can be both a blessing and a curse.

All three enjoy spoiled food items, sometimes have been spotted purposefully drinking quite toxic water from landfills, and all of them have stomachs that can cope with that. The more bad stuff they consume, the more potent their toxins become, a good way to judge this, is your pokemons colour. If their fur is dull and grey in nature, it has low potency, if it is a very saturated tone, bold and bright, it’s pretty poisonous. This is key to them choosing mates of course, as worthy males will fight and prove they would make good partners to powerful alpha females who watch and decide. Colour seems to be a key factor when choosing a mate, duller colours will usually fall short when it comes to finding love.

A note, they have a sweet tooth, often ravaging Combee and beedrill hives for honey, they also absorb the poisonous stings and use that as fuel for their body, ie. they get more potent poison attacks for a while. Fun fact, during matings season the males will actively do this to have an edge in battle.


As a variant the noticeable difference is they have become more quadrupedal, burrowing well through all of their evolutions. Claws are very much one of the main defining features of the variant, and as they grow they harden to become capable of crushing their way through rock, digging out long tunnels for dens, and to forage for bug type snacks, or tuberous roots of plants and plant Pokémon. In battle this makes for an effective escape method or way to dodge. 


Typhlosion of this category are often seen ramming into their targets with their bulky front end, the more low down posture is crucial to their well-being, their spines can’t comfortably carry their new weight distribution upright, so you’ll find they only really travel on all fours when cruising comfortably. 


Ability: Poison Trail
Their attacks often mix in the use of their toxic gasses, so if they get in close to use quick attack for example, they will leave behind a trail of poison in the air. This has roughly a 30% chance to poison your opponent.

Ability: Quick Learner

When hit by a fire attack their special Attack stat is raised. When hit with a poison type attacks, their attack stat is raised. There’s a 5% chance that an attack landed on your Pokémon from the fire or poison categories will be instantly used by your Pokémon, back at your opponent.

EDIT!!! Someone in comments asked if they would be able to hug this Pokémon, their gasses can be halted, and are not poisonous to you should they trust you. They can turn it on and off most of the time, but the Cyndaquil will obviously have a little less control.

They usually love a good scratch.

10/10 would pet.

________

Man I have to note, cyndaquil is the only fire starter Pokémon I really bonded with, so this was a delight to do, and I love poison types so of course I got hype when @kitsunaluna commissioned me to do this!

[the-goth-catte]

A Shifting of the Sands: I

The sun might have set over the barren, rocky desert of Thanalan, but the heat had yet to fully abate. Perhaps a bell, maybe two, had passed since the radiant disc that burned so bright, and hot, over the arid landscape had set, and blessed darkness had descended to give its slowly-cooling relief to the denizens of the scorched desert. As the sun had sank beneath the glittering domes and spires of Ul’dah, the sky had come to life with a myriad of blazing, brilliant colors - painting both the sky, and the imagination, in rich hues of orange and red, fading up to purples and deep blues, eventually merging all together into the blackness of the abyss at the crown of the world. As the moments ticked past the colors played out their panoramic show for all the world to see, living art dancing gleefully in the skies above them; at dusk slowly ilmed its way toward full night a sprinkling of stars began to twinkle into existence in the darkness that replaced the vivid sunset; only the brightest appeared at first, their brilliant radiance defiant against the dying of the day’s light. But as the world descended further into darkness, their brethren began to shine fully into view until the sky was once again alight with color. This time, instead of broad swaths across the entirety of the horizon it was a dazzling show of faintly shimmering lights across the heavens, like little camp fires on some far and distant shore.

Y'naalie Vhenna had sat on a moss covered rock, the gentle mist from the slow running stream-turned-waterfall wafting over her sweat-coated, exhaustion-laced limbs. Beneath that slowly fading sky, magenta eyes watching the colors bleed from the day as the twinkling lights of the stars slowly showed their radiant faces. The day had been long for her - most days, truth be told, were - and these quiet moments in which the world transitioned slowly from the glaring, bright heat of desert day to the calm, strangely serene night were some of the scant few in which she could find a measure of peace. From well before the rising of the sun at dawn Naalie was hard at work within the halls of the gladiator's guild, honing her craft to be the fiercest underdog that stepped foot onto the blood sands. Being as short as she was, as slender as she was, Naalie was no stranger to not being taken seriously in the world of combat; larger foes oft looked down their noses at the diminutive gladiatrix, scoffing away the woman against whom they had been pitted due to her stature. These disdainful, dismissive looks from gladiators and fans alike only drove her to train harder, fight harder... so that she could show them just how ferocious she can be. And that is why Naalie rose several bells before the dawn began to lighten the horizon, shuffling her way to the hall so that she could be the first in to practice her maneuvers... and why she was oft the last one to leave, leaden limbs carrying her out into Ul'dah by instinct alone. Not wishing to return to the cramped, crowded apartment that she shared with the remnants of her tribe, Naalie often found herself wandering beyond the city walls and into the desert proper; if she got here at just the right time of night, like tonight, it was a sight to behold and worked some sort of magical wonder at easing some of the tension that perpetually plagued her body. As the world fully gave way to night, the little nocturnal creatures began to stir themselves to life; night time insects began to chirp their songs to one another, creating an almost organic melody that carried across the barren wastes while keen-eyed birds made their shrill calls and gentle coos in search of dinner and companionship. And all the while, the splashing of the small waterfall behind her added a soothing soundtrack that Naalie could sit and enjoy for bells on end. A gentle breeze picked up the mist from the falling water, carrying it across the rock upon which Naalie sat and out toward the arid landscape beyond; what little moisture in it wouldn't last long, this verdant oasis seeming to cling jealously to the precious water and plant life it had carved out for itself. A backward glance from Naalie was all that it took for the idea of slipping into the water to form in her mind; despite the retreat of the sun, it was still quite hot in the desert... and coupled with the weary exhaustion, the thin film of dried sweat, and the need to do anything relaxing, well... it was too much for the blonde Miqo'te to resist. Never shy about nudity, even when around others, Naalie surmised that she was alone enough to justify shedding her training clothes without undue attention; making short work of the wardrobe, and glad to be out of the clothes that clung limply to her skin, she was soon slipping into the knee-deep water with a newfound energy. Slender legs splashed through the dirty, sand-laced water without a care, seeming to take a certain glee in making noise and kicking up the water; by the time she'd shuffled underneath the crisp, falling water there resided a small, content smile on her thin lips. With her head back, Naalie allowed the cool water to soak her hair and flow over her face; rivers of the sweet, refreshing liquid ran down her body to join once again at the pool in which she stood. She was the proverbial stone in their path, the obstacle around which they must flow to continue their journey eternal. But what a delightful stone to be, if for that moment alone. Clap. Clap. Clap. Three staccato bursts of sound, so innocuous and innocent, snapped Naalie out of the quiet reverie of her moment of oneness with nature. The Miqo'te turned, hand reaching quickly for the blade that always rested at her hip. The blade that was, specifically, not at her hip at she stood beneath the cold, flowing water. Fingers clenching futilely at empty air, the gladiatrix grimaced as she realized her potentially dangerous predicament.  Standing just shy of the lapping edge of the sandy pool were three figures, two tall and imposing uniformed men flanking a short, swarthy, gaudily dressed Lalafell man. His hands held still before him, motionless after the dramatic announcement of the trio's arrival; gloves of black silk padded the percussion of his palms, muffling the sound somewhat against the song of the desert night. The gloves, like the rest of the flowing and colorful silks he wore and seemingly limitless number of gemstone encrusted jewelry bedazzling his figure, spoke of an ostentatious amount of wealth. The smirk on his lips, the gleam in his eye, all suggested this was a man who seldom, if ever, didn't get what he wanted. Money. Power. Influence. Danger. All writ large on the smug expression of that little Dunesfolk. "Who-" Naalie began, only to be cut off by the little man. His arms retracted, folding lackadaisically over his partially bared chest; Naalie could see the glistening of oiled and perfumed chest hairs peaking out from the edges of his robe, catching the reflection of the wan moonlight. For some reason, that was what caught her eye beyond all else. "Who I am isn't necessarily what you should be concerned about," His voice, gods, his voice. Grating and nasal, it was every bit unpleasant as one would assume from looking at him. "It's who you are that is why we're here." He went on, leaving no room for interruption, "The Crimson Jaguar, Ul'dah's scappiest little gladiator! Not undefeated, but quite impressive in the arena. A darling favorite of the Jewel and her people, not to mention the bookies who rake in the gil hand over fist with every hard-fought victory you claw for yourself. I'm a fan, I'm quite impressed. Smitten, even. To think, I'm in the presence of the Crimson Jaguar. Boys, can you believe it?" The little Lalafell asked, glancing up to the two men on either side of him; a dull chorus of laughter echoed following his prompting, though from the sound of it neither men truly understood what they were laughing at.  "Can't believe it, boss." "Nope, I don't believe it." With the snap of his fingers the two goons fell into immediate, practiced silence so that the only sounds were, once again, the singing of the crickets and the splashing of falling water. There was something uncomfortable in that man's stare, something intense and foreboding. The slowly spreading, more-than-slightly sinister smile did nothing to allay that notion. "Now, if I remember correctly..." the nameless man went on, "... you have an important fight coming up, don't you? Against, oh... what was his name...? Boys, do you remember?" "Sure don't, boss." "Nope, boss, can't remember." Snap. "Bjornulf. Bjornulf the Hellsbeast." "Oh, boss, it was Bjornulf." "Bjornulf, boss, I think is the guy's name." The chorus chimed in. "Bjornulf the Hellsbeast," the man echoed once again, clucking his tongue as if, for some reason, this provoked some sort of thought in the devious little cogs of his mind. "You know, my sweet Crimson Jaguar, the odds they have in the betting houses? You to defeat that monster of a Hrothgar by over 50:1! Ul'dah's rising star." He paused his speech, only to begin a slow, idle pace around the water's edge without ever coming so close as to sully the shoes he wore. "A lot of people stand to make a lot of gil when you win that fight. They'd be crazy to bet against somebody who has shown as much skill and determination and drive as you have. I mean, could you even imagine the payout if somebody were to go all in on Bjornulf and he won?" The Lalafell asked; at first, the question seemed innocuous enough, but the tone with which it was delivered... the narrowing of the eyes, the arching of the brow, the curling of the lips. It wasn't a question, it was a suggestion. An offer? A threat. As the realization dawned on Naalie, the Lalafell's smile grew all the broader... and feigned innocence. Little shoulders lifted in a shrug, prompting the jingle-jangle of excessive jewelry to call out in the still night. "I'm not going to thro-" Naalie began, before once again being cut off. "Nobody is asking you to throw anything," The Lalafell cut in once again, his tone harsh. "But, if it happened... the payout." His demeanor shifted, his smile returned, and his shoulders shrugged their nonchalant little shrug. "And I'm certain your patrons would reward you for your valiant effort, win or lose. There's no shame in it, after all... right, boys?" "No shame, right boys?" Left goon echoed. "Left boys, no shame." Right goon said. The Lalafell paused at that, merely shaking his head a few seconds later. "You don't know who I am, Crimson Jaguar, but I know who you are. And I know who pulls your strings. Work with me and we can go far. Don't, and..." his golden eyes shifted to the side, brow arching with an unspoken implication. "... well, you're a smart girl." An awkward moment of silence followed before the man turned, giving a wave by the wiggling of his fingers, and walked away into the desert with his cohorts.

[sgt-morgan]

Lucky Kentucky ch. 2

Chapter 1

Hello there, welcome back to my Rockstar!Bucky x Reader fic. It was heavily inspired by my love of seventies mega rockstars, Almost Famous, Classic Rock, and a little bit of personal whimsy. I hope you enjoy, and read responsibly.

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️ : cussing, sexy times, drugs, booze, smoking, objectification, fornication, liberation, and a litany of other sordid topics and traumas.

“HEY! NOBODY FUCKING MOVE!” To say that the last thing you needed was a missing rockstar, was a drastic understatement, and a testament to your unending will.

“Where in the good sweet name of Jesus is that dick head?” You fumed stomping towards the rest of the band.

“Your guess is as good as ours sweetheart, we got nothing. No phone calls, no texts, no nothing.” Shrugged Steve Rodgers, guitarist and all around good guy. “If I knew that all the time, I think I’d be a millionaire.”

You sighed and looked around you at the fleet of your busses and equipment trucks, and you could have sworn that you were ready to kill that asshole with your bare hands. “Well hot stuff? He better show up quickly, or so help me God he will be sleeping in a tour bus with the newest, dweebiest, roadies I can find. Do you know how bad new roadie busses smell? He will if he dosent get his ass here by the time the last piece of your stage equipment is packed.”

“I think you should land his ass there anyway, to give him time to think about what he’s done.” Sam shrugs, Clint vehemently nodding his support as he wrangles one of his two delightful children. “I think his punsishmet should fit his crimes personally.”

“Oh yeah! I think that’s a great idea! Or, he could stay with Laura and I on our bus, I’m sure the whining infant won’t keep him up all night, He’s gonna love it!” Clint nods, “We have a rule, no booze, broads, or bud around the kids! He’ll dry out quick!”

“No Clint, no worries at all. He won’t sleep or get laid on the roadie bus,” you laugh, “he’ll be surrounded by filth, and endless questions, and gawking. He won’t get the back room either, I’ll give him a bunk. Frankie will be on his bus, that way he never gets away with anything. No escape artists on my watch!” You wink, plucking his oldest, Cooper off his back and wrestling him into a head lock.

“Oof, devious as always.” Natasha laughs nodding and throwing her arm around you. “I remember when I got on your bad side, wasn’t worth the never ending week of publicity with no coffee. That was the strictest ban I’ve ever dealt with for sure.”

“Someone start calling his ass.” You laugh pulling away from Tasha and waking towards Peter to get a rundown on the status of loading up.

“Oh captain, my captain!” Peter saluted, about nine or ten roadies following in his lead while the rest just stood gawking as if they had never seen a woman before. “We are about twenty minutes from setting sail, I have my men sorted into busses and vans, Frankies bus has one extra bed open as per request, and, as our lady of perpetual mystery might be interested to hear, we have a new crew of over eager security team members stocked to the brim on Frankies bus, even worse than the roadies. Is everything ship shape?”

“At ease Parker,” you giggle, shoving him out of his stiff rehearsed stance, “indeed we are ship shape, now if only our little diva Jr. would show face, we could be on our way.” Just as you were finishing that sentence, a car pulled up, and out stumbled the man of the hour, James Barnes.

James Buchanan Barnes was drunk. Inibriated, intoxicated, off his ass, pissed, blitzed, sloshed, ranked, hammered, wrecked, out for the count, drunk. He stumbles out of the Uber, bottle in hand, but at least he was dressed. He stumbled over to the rest of the group, he had a duffel bag, wether it was packed with anything useful is up in the air, you’d make sure you’d get your hands on it and ensure that it had what he needed. Wanda could take care of filling in the gaps. You have now decided that there is no escape from Frankie for him. You’d have to put someone on the bus. You don’t know who yet, but someone. Maybe Quill? Whoever it was, needed to get along with Sam and Steve. Thor, he would work nicely. You’d see to it that Frankie had him moved. Now there was the Liquor problem. This was a decision every road manager has to dread. As any good rockstar could tell you, you have to be stone sober or completely fucked to perform a good show, you just had to decide what would or wouldn’t ruin the band... or him. So, sober it was. No use dragging it on any longer.

“JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES!”

—————————————————————————

Any man alive knew that sound was trouble. No woman used the full Government name if you were in good standings. That was just facts. However, drunk thoughts beget sober truths and the truth is, that was incredibly sexy. When he turned hands raised in surrender whiskey bottle and duffle abandoned he was greeted to the glorious sight of her. Kentucky, dressed in leggings and a ripped up old band tee that he could faintly register belonged to Led Zepplin. Her hair piled up on her head shining in the sunlight her curves begging to be expl-

*whack*

Well, that will sober you up quick.

“Hey dickhead, so glad you could make it!” Sam, not looking too thrilled despite his statement of glad tidings gave him a smile he could only describe as cat catching canary. “I think Lucky needs to see you. Loose the doe eyes, it’s getting creepy.”

“Yeah buddy, I can catch on pretty quick.” He fumbled for what to say, and settled on “Bluegrass, doll, you look stunning this fine morning. Care for a swig of Kentucky’s finest?” He slurred, She sauntered up to him and he could swear he felt the magic, until she snatched the bottle and promptly tipped it out onto the ground. “Hey, woah! Easy there Kentucky, that was a bottle of Kentucky’s finest! that was a bottle of Eagle Rare!”

“No James, your looking at Kentucky’s finest, and you should know that I’m better than all the barrels in Frankfort. Buffalo Trace has nothing on me. Now, since you came in all washed up and wandering right smack dab before the deadline, I’m gonna be merciful, but the next time you pull this shit? Theres a bunk in Frankies bus with the minors that has your name on it. Are we clear? Brooklyn?” She had the empty bottle in her fist, her other arm draped under her breasts and she was jabbing him in the chest. He had never been more frightened and turned on in his entire life.

“Reading you loud and clear KY, I got the message.” He nodded backing away slightly.

“Good!” She smiled turning into an entirely different woman. One with sunshine and laughter in her soul, her perverbial horns retracting. She snatched his sunglasses right off of his aching eyes, and placed them on her face. Low blow, but not entirely unexpected. “Now that the princess is here, load up and let’s roll! First pit stop is in Vegas, so we got a lot of ground to cover!” She stuffed his empty bottle and his duffle back into his hands, and headed for her bus, he just caught the conversation as the Barton family began to load up watching her go by.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, Lila?” Clint said helping his little girl put her little pink hello kitty duffle under the bus.

“Is Uncle Bucky in trouble?” She asked innocently looking back at Bucky, who gave her a little wave.

Clint turned to face him, chucking as he met his gaze, “Oh yeah honey, lots and lots of it.”

—————————————————————————

You loaded yourself onto the administrative bus, plopping yourself into the little booth right at the front near the head bus driver, Phil Colson.

“Hello Phil!” You smiled, opening your laptop and checking on your hotel reservation. The kind bus driver smiled and started up the bus. Next on we’re your bunk mates, Wanda, Vision, Bruce, and Peter. That left two bunks open for Tony and Pepper for when they joined you on the occasion.

“Well, I can proudly announce that Barnes’ military training has not gone to waste, even sloppy drunk he knows how to pack his essentials!” Wanda’s beautiful soothing voice waltzes its way into your ears as she and Vision loaded themselves onto the bus. “He’s got his tooth brush and everything! It’s a miracle!”

You nodded at that eyes still focused on checking your route’s traffic and totaling how much it would cost you for a late check in if nessicary. “Good, he can be a functioning adult when he wants to be!”

“The widows are settled onto their bus, everyone’s got what they need. Carol said she could do with some more angry Lucky, she missed you apparently” Bruce sighed plopping down next to you silently checking over your figures.

“I’ve got everything packed so that it should only take the lighting crew and I two hours to shore up, which puts my productivity up by 30%” Vision shrugged putting his arm back around his beautiful wife.

“And I can move heavy things and take good photos. Also, I fixed that stage piece you were worried about and it is no longer does the rocky thingy.” Peter grinned giving you finger guns.

“Ugh, I love the sound of efficiency!” You sigh, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear as you throw your stuff in the bunk closest to the shower. “Thank you all for agreeing to take this on with me, I wanted you because you’re my A-team, and I knew that I couldn’t do this without you... plus I knew it would look fantastic on your resumes.” The crew in your bus gave a here here for that statement.

“So, Barnes. How do you plan to tackle that battle?” Peter said plopping down on top of Wanda and Vision as if they were just two decorative pillows. “He’s gotta strong will and a heady brooding nature, rough shit I tell yah.”

“Not to mention the fact that he’s incredibly handsome,” Wanda said pushing Peter to the floor, “We know you’re a pushover for that type!”

“Well lady and gentlemen, I plan to kick his ass into shape. Good looks and broody behavior be damned!” You huff.

“I may point out, that is not exactly a plan darling.” Vision says sympathetically patting you on the head as he carries his and Wanda’s things to the back of the bus.

“Well Viz, darling I am well aware of that. I have a plan. He’s gonna have to sober up. This behavior isn’t normal for him, his band mates and Tony have made that clear, he’s on the string for some girl that couldn’t have given less of a shit about him, so he’s all fucked in the head. MY job, is going to be reminding him he’s a goddamn rock star, who doesn’t need a bitch like that to make him happy!” You gesticulate as you unpack the supplies you’d need for a shower. “Then, all should be well with the world again, and I can go back to managing tours that don’t make me want to kill myself.”

——————————————————————————

“Say Stevie, that uh, that Kentucky sure is one tough dame right?” Bucky say’s as he charges shirts, “gotta lot of spunk?”

“Yeah Buck, she’s a real hot head when she wants to be, but she’s fantastic at this. I’ve not seen a better organized tour in my life!” He hears his best friend laugh from the front.

“Not to mention,” Sam started from his position on the couch, “she’s one hot mama, veeeeeery fine. You can tell she knows it too. I wonder if she likes dark chocolate, I think I should find out.”

Bucky felt anger deep in his gut at Sam’s teasing, but for the life of him he can’t figure out why. He dosent need another relationship, hell, dosent want one. That only leads to broken hearts and empty bottles... broken hearts and empty bottles... a little cliche but he could make it work. He’d write it down later. Right now, his sole purpose was intel. Gathering as much info on Kentucky as he could.

“Gotta make sure she’s not already tied up Sammy boy!” He laughed, “besides, I think she likes Seargents.” He winked.

“Well if it’s information on the lady Kentucky you want, I’ve got you covered.” The big braun-y security guy Thor chuckled, “she’s single as it comes, bad break up with some hot douche bag in some other band. Wasn’t pretty that breakup, I tell yah. Frankie and I had to beat the guys face in to get him off her door step, she started road managing in order to get away from him, being constantly on the move made her a moving target, it worked better that way.”

“Sheesh, any ideas on that band name? I’d hate to bump into them sometime.” Bucky shook his head, “she sounds like a tough lady.”

“Oh she is,” Thor chuckled, “got some rough and tumble to her, she’s good at what she does. Hydra? I think that’s the name at least.”

“Sheesh,” Steve muttered, “She messes around with hard hitters huh? Hydra is huge on the pop punk charts, they’re not topping out on the hot 100 or anything, but they pull a decent crowd for sure.”

“Yeah, this isn’t the first time I’ve heard stories about them being absolute dicks either,” said Sam, “poor thing. I hate that for her.”

“She’s a good lady, really, she’s always so kind, goes out of her way to learn names and remember important dates, never afraid to pitch in where she’s needed. You guys are lucky to have her for this tour.” Thor nods, putting his things away and laying down in his bunk.

“Yeah, very lucky.” Bucky nods, daydreaming about a woman he just met. This was gonna be a long tour.

——————————————————————————

Their first stop was in Nevada. Los Vegas, baby. The first show of the tour was at the colosseum at Ceaser’s palace. This meant discounted hotel rooms, larger merch sales, and quite a bit of press was involved, but you were ready to take on the challenge. You arrived in Los Vegas around 6am, all of the bands stumbling off their respective busses and making their way towards the resteraunts in the hotel. You and Bruce headed off to snag hotel keys, and settle the bands into place. Wanda, Vis, and Peter, headed with the rest of the crew and the equipment trucks to the Venue for set up.

“Alright Bruce, you get the Widows settled in their rooms, I’ll take care of the boys. Tell the girls their press is at 10 and their rehearsal will be at noon, they are to be at the venue no later than 9:15. They will arrive and go straight to Wanda, who has outfit options, and makeup. They have a lunch break at 2:00, and they need to be at the venue by 5:00 for their sound check at 5:30, curtain is at 7:30.” You rattled off handing Bruce back stage passes and a few printed copies of tonight’s schedule. “I’ll meet you outside in twenty to send the busses to the venue.” Bruce gave you a tiny salute and you wandered off to find the Commandos. You found them sitting in a resteraunt, a waiter bringing them their drinks. You noticed Bucky had a screwdriver, now that just wouldn’t do. You snatched the glass from him right as the waiter was about to put it in his hand, slamming it back in one go.

“Woohoo! Good morning Kentucky!” Clint laughed clapping with Steve and Sam, who were pointing at a dumb struck Bucky.

“Damn, sugar! I didn’t know you had it in you this early!” Sam laughed.

“We,” you said gesturing between Bucky and yourself, “will take water and a coffee.” You said to the waiter with a wink. “Good morning boys! We’re in for a good one today! Starting off at the colosseum is a great first gig! Now I hate to be a downer, but unfortunately, I gotta lay down the law. This tour will have a no show day drinking policy. Zero tolerance, breaking this rule leads to a prohibition to the breakers caffeine supply, and lands you in a bunk in Frankies bus with the newbies. The only exceptions are exactly one pre show shot and or beer for last minute jitters, or a celebratory toast. Any other hard day drinking will lead to repricutions. Rule number two, I run a right ship, I do not appreciate tardiness. I went easy on you the first day, but here on in, if you are late by more than ten minutes, I will assume you’re dead and send the cops to come find you. Very loud, very messy, and definitely will make the news. So, do I make myself clear?” You looked around and met their gazes everyone seemed to be okay with these rules, except Bucky.

“What the hell lucky? Am I some kinda child or something? No drinking? No tardiness? Am I a high schooler? Jesus, you gotta pair on you if you think that I, a grown ass man would ev-“ your food came about five words into his little tirade, and as soon as the waiter left your food, you shoved a roll in Bucky’s mouth.

“Stuff it Brooklyn, we wouldn’t fuckin NEED these rules if you could get your ass together for five minutes to see what you’re doing! Your drunkenness has made you sloppy, you’re late on your due dates, your waisting Tony’s time and money on your pouty bullshit, and your friends are worried about you. So yes, we’re gonna have rules, they will have consequences, and I’ll beat your ass myself if you show the inability to get it together!” You rant jabbing your finger into his chest to get your point across. “Now, eat your waffles, here’s your schedules, and if you are not showered and decently dressed at the colosseum by 10 am sharp, so help me God I’ll call the cops.” With that you gathered your coffe and your purse and stalked away. Handing Steve they’re schedules, passes, and hotel keys as you went. It was gonna be a long night, you could feel it.

“Did anyone else find that extremely sexy?” Sam asked, and by god Bucky couldn’t help it, he nodded in agreement.

—————————————————————————

Steve and Bucky followed eachother up to their floor of the hotel, crew, secrity, and bands took up the entire fifth floor. Later tonight, when everyone actually got to unload after the show, It would be a real party, people leaving their doors open, coolers of beer, goods and services being exchanged, instruments and duffle bags and food being passed from room to room, it was Bucky’s personal favorite part of the evening.

Right now, it was sad and empty. So, he showered, and he went to sleep. At approximately 10:15 am, Bucky was rudely awakened by a pounding on his door. He looked at the time and he jumped to his feet so fast he almost broke his neck tripping on his sheets. Kentucky was gonna kill him. He just hoped to God whoever was outside his door didn’t drag him out of the hotel in handcuffs.

“Ok Bucky, time to shine!” He muttered to himself and threw open the door. Outside was quite possibly the largest man he’s ever seen, and he was no pipsqueak himself, he towered over bucky by at least a foot, and his biceps were roughly the size of his head. “Hello there, seeing as you’re not in a police uniform, you must be Frankie.” The big man grunted his assent. “Ok then, may we g-“

“Listen here pretty boy, I don’t care if your famous, you hurt Kentucky? I hurt you. Understood?” His voice felt like a blast of attic wind. It made Bucky shiver. Where was this coming from? How would he hurt Kentucky, it’s not like she would ever date him, he couldn’t even get a woman to Mary him, let alone bag an absolute catch like Lucky.

“Yes sir, won’t happen again.” Bucky saluted like he was still in the service then realized what he was doing and always my scratched his head. “Can we?” He pointed at the door, hoping against all odds to escape this absolute shit show of a conversation.

“By the way kid? You’re lucky she didn’t send the cops.”

——————————————————————————

At the colosseum, Y/N was pracitcaply putting a hole in the rug of their dressing rooms, while the various other band mates who bothered to show up on time, sat there bored out of their minds.

“I’m gonna kill him,” you muttered, biting at your bottom lip.

“No your not mama,” Natasha laughed from the couch, “You think he’s sexy, you don’t burn fine art.”

“Dammit, you’re right.” You sighed throwing your hands in the air and plopping dow on top of her and Peggy who were sitting next to eachother looking at dress designs Wanda sent them for SNL next month.

“I like the black one Nat, the red detailing is classy and fun.” You mutter, Peggy nods in agreement.

“I like Wanda’s idea of us all having black dresses with different colors, we could do it 1950’s style and put our hair up? I think it would look really cool. Fits the vibe of our song choice.” Peggy says casually flipping through the designs.

“Carol and I respectfully request to wear suits if that’s ok?” MJ pipes up, “I think two and two will look cool.” She shrugs, I’ll do the regular hair and makeup though.”

“Can I get a broad brim mobster hat?” Carol asks popping up from her place on the floor beside MJ’s chair.

“Yes, I like this idea. SNL will like it too I bet.” Wanda nodded. “If they let Megan and Billie do what they want, I’m guessing your performance will be just as accepted. That and it can be in black and white. Rami Malik is also the perfect host for that. I’ll pitch it to their team.”

“How about you boys, any ideas? You’re the week after.” Wanda said looking towards the Comandos who had already made it.

“I like the Jailhouse rock Idea! I think we sh-” Just then, Frankie walked in holding James by the collar.

“Put him down Frankie,” you sigh “he’s an ass, but we need him.” After Frankie let him go, he brushed himself off and grinned at you sheepishly. “You better have a damn good explanation for this.” You grind out.

“Over slept?”

“Im gonna kill him”

——————————————————————————

All in all, the show went off without a hitch, the bands both sailed through their songs beautifully, and earned themselves an encore. However, on the last encore of the night, Bucky made things a little more interesting.

“This last one, goes out for a little special someone!” When he said that, you could swear he winked at you.

“Hey hey mama said the way you move” when he held out that move? You could feel your soul shake. He was going it slow, taking the opening slow to really get the crowd worked up. It was like he was expressly trying to lock eyes with you, seat his irises into your soul. “Gonna make you sweat, gonna make you groove.” Then when the first two lines were done and they kicked into tempo, you remembered where you were, what you were doing, and you let the song echo behind you, as you went to help Wanda pack up the dressing room.

What was that look? What game was he playing at? He couldn’t want to mess around with you, you were a nobody. He was James Barnes, lead singer of one of the biggest bands of the decade, he had no interest in you. You were a road manager, a stick in the mud, a hard headed know it all. He dosent know a thing about you and dosent want you. You were just getting caught up in the music right?

[ymiwritesstuff]

Hey, is it possible for Diego x Gyro's sister reader where she doesn't mind Diego's company and will often be mischievous with her brother and Johnny? Thank you, you're an amazing writer!

Wow I had soo much fun with this one. It turned out to be a tiny bit different than you requested but I still hope you enjoy! Thank you so much for the request and continued support!!

Just a Little Scheme

Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure Part 7: Steel Ball Run

Diego Brando x Gyro’s Sister!Reader

Summary: The obvious connection with you and Diego doesn’t sit well with your brother who absolutely despises the man. And one night this hatred is brought to the surface in a new yet terrifying way.

Notes: Swearing!

“Absolutely not.”

The words left Gyro’s mouth in an instant, wanting to reject your utterly insane suggestion as quickly as possible. You frown your brows at your brother’s answer. “What? C’mon Gyro,” you say with a pleading tone, trying to convince your brother to accept. You weren’t sure why he was so persistent on rejecting your offer as he didn’t even know Diego. To you he had always been kind, albeit a little smug, but he never did or even tried to do anything to harm you. 

“No way I’m letting that asshole travel with us. It’s already bad that he’s got his eyes on you.” Gyro wasn’t blind. He knew exactly what Diego was thinking every time he laid his cyan eyes on you. And those same eyes were looking at him with clear mischievousness, as if to mock him. Needless to say, this frustrated Gyro a lot, hence why he wasn’t going to let the blond male journey with them.

You blush at your brother’s words as there was some truth to them. It was clear that Diego was intrigued by you as most of his words consisted of compliments and corny, yet highly effective flirting. The attention didn’t bother you in the slightest, in fact you often fired back at the male with equal words. You had met him in secret to avoid alarming Gyro and you always enjoyed your time with the blond. There was a clear connection between you two and you thought it would be delightful to have him travel with you. 

“Gyro please.. He isn’t that bad. You don’t even have to talk to him! He won’t bother you or Johnny at all!” You say as your brother turned his back to you and began to walk to his horse and Johnny who waited while on Slow Dancer. You weren’t sure if Johnny was bothered by Diego, not that it really mattered as it was your brother that was the more difficult one. “He can eat shit for all I care, but he sure as hell isn’t going to travel with us!” You let out a sigh of frustration. This wouldn’t do. Just as Gyro was about to mount Valkyrie you quickly opened your mouth to object:

“Then I’m traveling with him alone.”

Your brother’s green eyes practically shot to look at you, your words making him lower his foot from the stirrup. You were like a child. Arms crossed, eyes closed and you held your chin up, determined to make your brother accept your offer. “No you’re not” Gyro said sternly. Even worse than having Diego with you three was having Diego travel alone with you. The guy was far too unpredictable and Gyro would never forgive himself if something happened to you. “(Name), you’re not going to travel with that bastard.”

“Then stop being so stubborn and let him come with us!” You finally opened your eyes and looked at him. His eyes twitched in annoyance. “You’re the stubborn one! Stop actin’ like a kid and let’s go!” Instead of listening you scoffed and mounted your own horse and began to head for the opposite direction. Gyro’s face twisted in confusion as he mounted his own steed. “Where are you going?!” Gyro shouted after you causing you to look at him and stick your tongue out in a childish manner. The light-haired male sighed out loud and shook his head in defeat. He knew there was no fighting with you. This would be a long ride.

~

During the ride Gyro’s face alone told all about his frustration. He kept quiet the entire time, not even looking at you and Diego who were right behind him and Johnny. He could however hear every word you two shared. From the awful flirting to the sneaky compliments Diego threw at you, everything just made Gyro fall deeper into the rage that was engulfing him. The worst thing of all though was that you were happily laughing at his words and complimenting him back, which made Gyro want to throw up.

“Say, (Name).. How about we have some fun?” Diego asked, pointing at the two males playing poker not too far away from the fire. The four of you had settled down for the night, wanting to let yourselves and your steeds to rest. You immediately got the hang of his idea, intrigued to hear what he had in mind. “What do you have in mind?” Your curiosity caused a devious smirk to appear across Diego’s lips and he quickly glanced at Gyro whose gaze was focused on the cards in his hands, but still alert as he promised himself to keep an eye on you two. 

“Just play along, dear. This’ll be hilarious.” Excitement bubbled with in you, your lips forming a smirk of your own as Diego took a hold of your hands. From the corner of your eye you could see Gyro glance you two, seemingly interested in what Diego was about to do. “You’re absolutely stunning (Name). The way your (E/C) eyes shine under the moon is enough to completely blind me.” Diego’s obviously over the top compliment still managed to make you blush, despite the fact that you wanted to laugh at the corny remarks. Gyro’s eyes were now locked on you and Diego, his gaze shooting daggers at the blond. Diego noticed his enraged look, which only encouraged him to continue.

“Oh how could I ever take my eyes off you... You are downright...” One of Diego’s hands made its way to your face, caressing your cheek, his face inching closer. “Addicting.” The heat on your cheeks only got worse and you could practically feel the sheer rage radiating from your brother. Johnny had his gaze both on you two and Gyro, seemingly preparing to hold his friend back if he were to lash out in anger. A low chuckle left Diego’s lips. His little scheme was working a lot better than expected. “My dear, surely you’d want to come with me rather than travel with these.. Insects.” Diego glanced at Gyro and Johnny with an expression that emitted disgust. His hand moved to the back of your head, his face dangerously close to yours. “Don’t you dare...” Gyro muttered through gritted teeth, his knuckles white from trying to contain his irritation.

“Diego... Maybe you should-” You tried to warn him as you knew how your brother got when he was angry. It was brutal to say the least. However Diego quickly ignored your warning as you felt his lips finally meeting yours. The feeling was far beyond what you had imagined. The butterflies in your stomach went crazy and the feeling of Diego’s passionate hold on you made you crave more. Diego shot yet another glance at Gyro, a smirk forming during the kiss due to his expression. Almost immediately you wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to enjoy the kiss before it would be inevitably broken by your brother.

Unfortunately the moment was short lived as Gyro’s loud, absolutely livid voice cut through the air. “YOU ASSHOLE! I’M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU!” Gyro shot up from the ground and quickly began running towards you, rage blinding his eyes. Diego was quick to pull away, readying himself for a strategic retreat, but not before looking at you and quickly kissing you on the cheek. “Arrivederci, my dear.” You were left completely stunned as Diego ran towards his trusty steed, not wanting to deal with Gyro’s enraged state. Perhaps another time.

With a quick wink towards you, Diego kicked the sides of Silver Bullet and the horse began galloping away, leaving the three of you behind under the moonlight. “YOU BETTER NOT COME BACK, YOU SHITHEAD!” The way Diego had intentionally agitated Gyro was enough to make him want to kill him. The sheer fact that he intentionally toyed with him by making moves on you was working far too well and Gyro would not let Diego fiddle with his anger any longer. The further away Diego’s form got, the more Gyro’s anger calmed down. However when he quickly turned around to scold you like a brother would, he was instead met with you laughing your heart out at his reaction.

“My goodness Gyro, I thought you were going to kill him!” Diego was right, this was extremely hilarious. You don’t remember the last time you’ve seen your brother so full of fury. Gyro muttered something under his breath before retreating to his previous position beside Johnny who was also cracking a smile. “The next time I see him I’m gonna bash his goddamn brains in.” He then looked at you. “How can you even like him?? The guy’s a total asshole.” Your laughing had calmed down but you still let out a small chuckle.

“Well you aren’t any less of an asshole, ya know? And besides, this was funny. I think I’ll invite him along again.”

“You better fuckin’ not.”

No matter how hilarious it was to see your brother like that, you still understood his worry. He was your family after all and nothing would ever change that. You figured it would be for the better if you remained with him and Johnny during the race, despite how much you loved Diego. You knew how important the Steel Ball Run was for Gyro and you would help him in any way you could.

Next stop: Rocky Mountain Village.

[willowthefoxxo]

Trick or treat Halloween is eternal

fr

have a Rocky hard popping candy

my favorite little chaos gremlin

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Spideychelle as parents?

Here it comes―the fluffnami I warned you all about on Monday. You’ve officially waited too long to seek higher ground. The fluff is coming.

Kid-Me-NotPairing: Peter x Michelle (Spideychelle), Ned x Betty (Netty Pot)Rating: T (a very smol swear)Word count: 2060

They think about moving every year, but so far they haven’t.Peter knows it’s both of them, not just him, because sometimes he catches hiswife staring at a particular facet of their apartment, and when she looks athim, he goes, “I know,” and she makes a face like it’s doubtful that he’s readher mind.

The farthest out of the city they get on a regular basis isBetty and Ned’s corner of suburbia. Peter likes the drive and his wife likesthe mature trees, but not the ‘1950s American Dream capitalist bullshit vibe,’as she calls it. She also likes the blonde-bricked houses and Peter takes hisfoot off the gas whenever they pass one so that she has longer to admire themwithout having to state her preference out loud.

A trip to the Leeds’s is a regular thing for them, thoughmore frequent once summer rolls lazily around again. Flo is five now and goesinto a streaming shrill vibration of excitement at the mention of a visit.She’s been raised to call the two Leeds kids her cousins. The drive is just farenough that it used to put her to sleep, but these days the sedative propertiesof the car ride are only powerful enough to lull her small body into a consciousdoze. She exists in this low-power mode with a hand propped under her chin anda serious expression as she gazes out the window, not really noticing theflowers in people’s gardens or the dappled light on the perfect grey curbs, andnot really caring about what she’s missed. Peter’s great delight of the driveis catching glimpses of her in the rear-view mirror.

“I brought club soda for Betty,” his wife remarks idly fromthe passenger seat. Briefly, he grins to himself, rubbing his lip with athumbnail. Her posture is so like their daughter’s and at this point, Petercan’t remember who picked it up from whom.

“That’s really nice of you,” he says. “I’m sure she’llappreciate that.”

She goes by ‘Chelle’ now, which he feels has the sort ofheart-wrenching elegance of a ballet every time he hears it. It’s so adult.Frequently, Peter forgets they are both 34.

Pulling into the driveway is the catalyst for thelast-minute divvying up of who’s carrying what out of the car and which ofFlo’s toys are to be left in the backseat so she won’t scream if the other kidsget a hold of them. (Peter has been diligently working on his daughter’sjealous phase, but prefers not to test her restraint on what will already be ahigh-energy day.)

Chelle and he forsake the formality of the front door infavour of the gate, going straight into the backyard. He and Ned built the gatethemselves and Peter gives it a fond pat on his way through. Flo has alreadyraced ahead; it’s pointless to try to carry her. When she was a toddler, therewas less kicking, but the second her feet were lowered to the ground, she tookoff like a released wind-up toy.

“Hi,” he says to Ned. “Hi,” to Betty. And they’re saying“hi” in return, and so is Chelle, and hi’s are basically flying through the airlike mosquitos.

Sure enough, there are mosquitos flying through the air aswell because Betty’s grown sensitive to the scent of the citronella candlesthey usually scatter around the outdoor living space. In his spare time,Peter’s been working on synthesizing a replacement that will repel pestswithout the distinctive odour.

Arms full of bags of hotdog buns and an entire case of clubsoda (seriously, Chelle could’ve just bought Betty a two-litre bottle. How muchdoes his wife expect her to drink?!), Peter uses his foot to close the gatebehind him, but not before Ned’s devious cat bolts.

“Ohmigodohmigod,” Ned mumbles, flustered, but Betty justtouches him on the arm and steps around him.

“PalPY!” she calls, high and clear.

Emperor Palpatine whizzes back into the yard and the crisisis over. Peter and Ned laugh to themselves, slapping each other on theshoulder. Chelle has spread her armload of offerings on the patio table andwrapped Betty into a hug like a favourite draping blanket. She’s not asqueezing kind of hugger, his wife, but the sort to relax fully into it like avertical trust fall. There are few people she hugs.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Ned declares when Peter hands over thehotdog buns.

“Man, don’t tell me…” Peter begs.

“Yep,” Betty chimes in. “He forgets to buy them every time.”

She bites into a strawberry from a fruit tray she’s justwhisked out of the house. Chelle selects a large cube of honeydew melon,furtively stuffs it into her cheek, then bends down to make their daughterlaugh with a chipmunk impression as Flo slingshots back to her parents in asudden fit of nerves. This happens when the cousins are reintroduced. Sheclings to her mother’s leg as her smile quickly springs back up―Chelle’sstroking her wavy hair.

“Peter expects it by now,” Ned asserts, indicating what hisbest friend of 20+ years has brought.

“Nah, contingency plan, dude,” Peter avows.

“MJ,” Ned says, using the name that’s never unstuck for him(in fact, he’s the only one who still uses it), “club soda? Lame.”

Chelle rolls her eyes as their daughter torpedoes away fromher, chasing her cousins to the back fence.

“It’s for your pregnant wife. Don’t be selfish.”

“He’ll appreciate it later when I’m not sprinting to thebathroom to throw up my hotdog,” Betty predicts.

“Hon, that is so freaking gross. So, who’s hungry?” Ned askswith a chuckle.

He retrieves a pair of beers from an open cooler, rocky withice cubes, and Peter follows him over to the barbecue. Betty is close behind.

“Ned,” she protests, “I can do it.”

“The smoke can’t be good for the baby.”

“The other kids turned out fine. Ned makes up new rules foreach child,” Betty informs Peter with a wry smile.

“Peter wouldn’t let me go out on the balcony when I waspregnant with Flo,” Chelle calls over from where she’s setting out cutlery.They always eat first. Many, many summer afternoons have established theirpriorities.

Peter throws up his hands, careful not to slop the drinkhe’s just opened.

“It stressed me out!”

Chelle shrugs and gives him a smug smile.

“You got used to it.”

“I had to. You started sitting out there every night whenyou were on the phone to Betty or May or your mom.”

She grins in remembered victory as Charlie hurtles intoPeter’s side.

“Hello,” says a kid with Betty’s hair and at least onemissing tooth.

“Hey, what’s up, buddy?” Peter squats and does theParker-Leeds handshake. It transcends generations now, which is pretty cool.

“Are you watching your sister?” Betty quizzes her.

“Yes,” says Charlie, three-year-old sister nowhere in hervicinity.

“Call her like you call the cat,” Ned suggests, attention onraising the lid of the barbecue to shuffle the meat around, burgers crumblingat the edges, hotdogs reluctant to lift from the grill.

“Ooh, do we think Daddy’s in trouble for that one?” Bettychecks with Charlie, who grins, swishing her neatly braided pigtails.

Their other child, Daisy, comes staggering through thegrass, hand clutched in Flo’s. Peter feels a thrill of pride, watching theirdaughter play the big sister.

“We’re going inside,” Flo announces. “Charlie has a newLego.”

“Awesome,” Peter tells Charlie, eyes lighting up. “How manypieces?”

“I might need to snag one of your club sodas,” Chelleinforms Betty. “I feel suddenly nauseous with déjà vu.”

The wives laugh hard at the expense of the nerds theymarried.

“But seriously,” Peter whispers. “How many?”

“One. Hundred. Seventy. Four,” Charlie says, enunciatingwith care to increase the impact of how impressive this is. He thinks she couldread the announcements when she gets to high school, like her mom did, butthat’s a ways off yet. The kid’s only seven.

Flo, tired of being in her father’s company yet not thecenter of his attention, falls dramatically onto his hunched back.

“Why is it called Legos.” She says it like a demand, not aquestion.

“Uh, I don’t know. Lemme look it up…”

Before he can get his phone from his pocket, the nextinquiry has left her mouth. He can see that the Lego investigation has beentemporarily derailed.

“Why is my name ‘Florence’?”

“This is her thing right now,” Chelle explains to theirfriends, shaking an open bag of pretzels in Betty’s direction. “Questioningwhat everything’s called.”

“I know this one,” Betty teases. Peter glances over hisshoulder to watch Flo’s eyes light up with curiosity. He rubs her warm forearm.“It’s because Uncle Ned and I, and your parents, went on a trip to a countrynamed Italy and, while we were there, they realized that they loved each other.Then,” she goes on (Peter can tell by his daughter’s face that she isenthralled), “your mom and dad went back there when they were grown up and theywere in a city called Florence when they decided to get married.”

“Because he asked her to?” Flo clarifies.

“That’s right,” Betty praises.

“Barely managed it,” Ned critiques under his breath.

“Thanks, pal,” Peter snarks back.

His best friend glances down at him and they share a grin,then Ned reaches out for Betty’s hand and reels her in to kiss her cheek.They’re romantics, both of them. Betty probably remembers the moment ofengagement better than either Peter or Chelle, and she wasn’t even there.

“Why is Mommy’s name ‘Chelle’?” Flo wonders.

Peter straightens up to grab a pretzel. He sets his beer onthe fold-out ledge of the barbecue, then picks up Daisy, who is looking forlorn,so far below the tall people.

“Michelle,” Chellereminds her. “That’s because Grandma watched too much Full House while she was waiting for me.”

“Where were you?” Charlie asks, confused.

“Still in her belly,” his wife explains. She points atBetty’s rounded stomach. “Like your brother.”

“Wha’ ‘bow you, Da’?” Flo asks, wandering back from thetable as she chomps a carrot stick smothered in probably too much ranchdressing.

Peter sticks his tongue out at Daisy to make her gigglebefore turning to his daughter with a confused frown.

“What about me?”

“Why is your name ‘Spider-Man’?”

Chelle howls with laughter while Peter attempts to handlethe situation. Ned and Betty have both known his secret for years (there areonly so many excuses he can give Betty for needing to abruptly leave theirhouse on foot with a ragged backpack), but Flo doesn’t really get thedifference between saying it in front of them and saying it to literally anyoneelse.

“Are we supposed to talk about that?” he tests her.

“No. I’ll only tell Charlie.” Quickly, she bounces to hercousin’s side and, over Charlie’s giggling, Peter hears Flo’s high voicesaying, “My dad’s Spider-Man.”

“That’s definitely talking about it,” he says.

“Ok,” she is quick to agree with a mischievous smile, “I’llonly tell Palpy.”

Flo darts off after the cat, who has decided on a franticrun across the yard. Charlie helpfully tries to copy her mother’s method ofcalling the cat, but Emperor Palpatine is not convinced by the imitation.

Peter spins Daisy around once before letting the toddlerinto the fray as well.

“She’s so much like you,” Betty observes to Chelle, watchingFlo track the cat with determination. “Brave, unstoppable.”

Ned snorts.

“Nah, she’s like Peter.”

“Watch it,” Peter warns jokingly, picking up his beer.

“I was gonna say because she has so much energy, dude, duh.”

“Well, that’s true,” Chelle says, walking to Peter andpropping her elbow on his shoulder. He holds her around the waist, longing tocradle her closer than social norms permit. “I don’t know what we’re going todo with two of them.”

For a moment, there is no sound but the sizzling hotdogs(Ned’s probably burning them―Betty is the true grill-master of the Leedsfamily) and the shouts of three little girls. Then, Betty’s delighted gasp andNed’s pure shriek of joy.

Peter’s beer sweats in his hand. He has never been happier.

[lenle-g]

could you write something cute between Alan and Scott?

Ask Meme: I wish you would write a fic where… 

a rambling on brothers and space and rock climbing

It’s funny, Scott reminiscesas he braces his legs and reaches his left arm up toward a good looking handhold, he doesn’t get to hang out with Alan very often and this is actually…this is really nice. The kid keeps himself occupied 90% of the time -playing video games, tuning that guitar of his or plotting something deviouswith Gordon - and Scott’s always got something he’s busy with too. Missions ormaintenance or paperwork. It takes a lot of time and effort and money to keepan organisation like International Rescue going and, out of all of hisbrothers, Scott sometimes finds it hard to connect with the youngest of them.They’re so many years apart and Alan can be, well, such a brat sometimes…

“Geez Scott!” Alan isgrinning down at him from over the lip of the ridge, backlit by a night skyawash with golden stars. He’s evidently finished attaching his ropes for thenext segment of the climb and is peering down the length of Scott’s top rope tocheck his brother’s progress. “Hey! Think you’ll be up here before you’reseventy?”

Way to prove a point kid.

The stars give hislittle brother a glowing halo of light and Scott scowls; not just because histhighs and shoulders and burning but because he kind of hates how perfect itis.

How well Alan suitsthe stars and the stars suit him.

Scott is terrified ofspace, if he’s honest. He’s a damn good pilot and John and their Father havetrained him extensively to operate up there but… there’s something about thatvast, empty, airless void of death that can’t help but unsettle him.John would scold him for calling space empty, and yes, in theory, it’sanything but, but when Scott looks at those stars he doesn’t see what John andAlan do.

He just sees amillion different ways his little brothers could die.

“Oi! Have you fallenasleep down there? Sheesh!” Scott pulls a face at the little blond monkeyswinging about above him and he heaves his bodyweight up toward another handhold with gritted teeth.

“You didn’t exactlypick an easy trail.” He huffs, wishing he’d at least brought one of theInternational Rescue grapple lines with him even if it would becheating. “Who thinks ah yes I’ll pick the route where we’ll have to climbhalf a damn mountain to reach the top.”

Alan Tracy that’swho. Alan Tracy, champion rock scrambler, who’s currently sitting back in hisharness and laughing his socks off at him.

“There’s a perfectlygood path up to the satellite relay you know.” Scott points out. He’s in no wayout of shape but this is hardly his preferred kind of exercise. Why couldn’tthey have just gone for a jog on the beach?

“Where’s the fun inthat?” Little brother crouches down and extends a hand over the edge ready forScott to grab. It’s mostly Scott’s legs that boost him up that final bit but hecan’t deny the reassurance that those small fingers secured around his wristprovide. Finally up on the ledge of rock with his brother Scott finds himselflaughing.

“Sheesh.” He wipessweat from his eyes and slaps Alan on the back with it, finding an adrenalinefulled grin has made its way onto his face. His heart is buzzing, the airtastes unlimited. “Come out for a climb with me Scott.” He mimics theirconversation earlier that evening, teasing. “It’ll be fun Scott.”

“It is fun,Scott.” The poke of a tongue between teeth lets big brother know that Alan, therascal, is thriving off his misery.

“It’s dumb.”Scott shoots back, only this time it provokes a pout and full baby brothermode gets activated as those big puppy dog blues come into their own, fullforce.

“Well… You’re welcometo climb down on your own…” Alan’s face has dropped and his eyes looksuspiciously shiny, he pauses just long enough for effect and sniffs. “I don’tmind…” He very clearly, very obviously does mind, or, in the least, heknows how to play being the baby of the family to his advantage and that itworks especially well on his dear, humanitarian oldest brother.

Curses.

“Nngh, ok fine, it’snot dumb.” Scott concedes, “I’m having fun.” He raises his hands defensivelywhen Alan shoots him a sceptical look. “I am, I promise.”

Alan just laughs atthat, brightening like a switch has been flipped. Damn, definitely gotplayed. It’s worth it for the hundred megawatt smile Alan shoots his waythough.

“Ready for the nextbit then?” He asks and Scott looks up at the five feet of rocky wall thatextends into the sky above them with a sigh. He stretches out the tiringmuscles of his shoulders behind his head and moves onto unlooping his top ropeand beginning to secure it to the hoist for the next section of the climb.“Want some chalk?” Alan asks beside him, smug and set to go. “You’re lookingsweaty.”

“Please.” Scott nodsand waits, his callused hands outstretched as Alan pulls a handful of thepowder out of the little bag at his hip and dumps it into his palms. Scott rubsthem vigorously together to try and absorb some of the moisture and the knotshe’s putting in his line become much easier to tie. “Thanks.”

“Ha, no problemo bigbro.” Alan’s impatiently started testing the next series of hand holds like hehasn’t climbed this section so many times before that he’s not got fivedifferent good routes already in his head. “Mmm, I wonder if I could dino thatbit up to the overhang.”

Finished with hisropes Scott squints upward at the way the rock juts out above them, severalfeet up.

“With no hands?”Scott’s nose crinkles at the lingo, kids these days with their… complicatedclimbing terminology. “That seems pretty impossible.”

“Dinoing is no footholdsyou goof.” Scott gets a cheerful slap against his shoulder, “Look,” Alantucks his elbows in to his sides and grabs hold of a couple of convenient handholds. His upper body strength alone hoists him off the floor and suspends himthere. It's… actually pretty impressive. Damn kid. “You make tiny t-rex arms!”Alan wiggles his elbows to demonstrate and then there’s a flex of the musclesin his little brother’s back and the kid swings one hand free to grabs foranother hand hold. “Raar!” He crows, delighted with himself as he goes sailingup the rockface one bound at a time. “Eat my dino dust Grandpa!”

Scott, grounded belowhim, laughs and shakes his head. His fingers seek out a good hand hold to starton and once he’s got a rhythm going he realises Alan’s already up to theoverhang, sitting on the edge of it with his legs dangling over the edge,watching his brother.

“Dino it!” Alan yellsdown at him and, never one who wants to disappoint a little brother, Scottthrows himself into a valiant, legless attempt. Alan doubles over laughing aminute later as the belaying rope has to catch his big brother’s weight asScott completely misses his handholds and tumbles off the surface of the rock.“Incredible! What a flop!”

“Yeah yeah,” Scottgripes, tugging at the harness that’s gone tight around his thighs and tryingto stop the rope he’s dangling from from spinning in rapid circles so that hecan latch back onto the wall of rock. “I’ve not got the technique down yet,that’s all… And anyway! You weigh less than me!” He complains, finallystopping his rotation. “You’ve got hardly anything to lift with those weedyarms of yours to start with.”

Alan blows araspberry at him from half way up.

“Aww come on Scotty!”He cheers his brother on, “You can do it! I know you can!”

…

“Oh my gooood.” Scott collapses on his backnext to his baby brother in the moonlight shadow of the satellite relay. “Thatwas insane.”

“I know right.” Alanlaughs, and the kid stretches one hand up towards the star studded sky abovethem as if his fingers could actually brush the tiny lights. His hand forms adark silhouette against the bright sky and he watches as the little speck herecognises as Thunderbird Five passes slowly though the gap between hisfingers. “Huh… Do you think Johnny’s watching us from up there?”

“Oh undoubtedly.”Scott scoffs, the toe of his trainer flopping sideways to kick the metalsupport strut of the relay tower. “Spacecase is watching everything. Hey thereJohn.” He waves up at the big shiny dish as if it’s a holorecorder and Alansnorts at him.

“You know thatdoesn’t work like that, right?” He points out, amused, but then there’s a longsigh from little brother and the hand that was reaching for the stars flops tohis side. Scott turns his head and frowns at him.

“You tired?” He asks,concern seeping in. “We’re gonna take the path back down, no chance I’mtackling those rocks again today.”

“I’m going to get youto love rock climbing sooner or later.” A ghost of a smile passes overAlan’s face. “But I… yeah I guess I must be tired. I was just thinking…” Hetrails off.

“Thinking?” Scottprompts, rolling on his side so that he can better study his sibling’sexpression. Something about the flecks of stars reflecting in those baby bluesstrikes him, for once, as a little unsettling. “About what buddy? You ok?”

“Yeah.” Alan nods.“It’s just… space.” He says, like that in itself explains everything. “It’s so…big, you know?”

Scott’s eyebrowsraise nearly to his hairline.

“But you lovespace.” He points out, confused. He understands perfectly, of course, what it’slike to fear the void above but never had he expect that fear from Alan Tracy.

“Yeah.” Alan nodsagain, the motion getting repetitive, “But… I’m not John, you know. I can’t…” He gestures vaguely at the sky above themwith a limp arm. “I can’t just be so unaffected like he is. So completelyabsorbed in… John’s… John’s made forspace. I’m just borrowing it and it…it all scares me sometimes, you know?”

“You?” Scott blinks,surprised, “Alan Tracy, youngest space operations pilot in history is scaredof…?”

“Nevermind.” Alansnaps, cutting across him, rocketing into a sitting position and curling hisknees in to his chest until he’s squished into a little ball. His knuckles arewhite. “I knew you wouldn’tunderstand. Just… forget it.”

“No no no.” Scott’sup on his knees, shuffling over to his brother, hands outstretched. “Sorry, sorryI… I was just surprised, that’s all. You and John are always so space this,EVA that, I didn’t… I didn’t know you, uh, felt that way, is all Sprout.”

Alan’s little balluncurls a little, the fight going out of him. He raises worried blue eyes tolevel with his brother.

“I… don’t wanna diein space.” He whispers and something twists viciously in Scott’s chest.

“God Allie…”He breathes, dizzied like something has just struck him hard across thesternum. “I… You’re not going to die in space. Ok? Absolutely not. You’ve gotme and John looking out for you up there, right? There’s no way we’d let anything like that happen to you.”

“What if it happenedto all of us? What if we get trapped? What if… what if something like Eoshappens again?” He’s trembling, “John was so close to being out of oxygen and Iget nightmares about how limp he was and that moment as I pulled off his helmetand there was nothing and…”

“Alan. Alan stop.”Scott’s hands land on his brother’s shoulders, making the kid look at himproperly. “I… I understand. Ok? I know how you feel because I feel it too,every damn time we head up there. It’s a miracle of science and engineering andit’s absolutely insane that we’re leaving the planet. So often Ican’t believe it’s really happening. Space is so massive and so full of thingsthat could go wrong and… and you’renot alone in feeling… scared.” He admits, reluctantly. One good look at Alan,wide eyed and worried, cements the fact the kid needs to hear this though. “Butthat’s the thing isn’t it.” Scott’s fingers rub warm circles into his babybrother’s shoulders, “You’re not alone, ok?” He promises, “You never will be.You’ll always have one of us riding along as point, and John is always just aComm call away, and we would never leave you in space alone.”

Alan makes a small,unhappy noise and plops his head against his brother’s shoulder.

“Despite what you maythink,” Scott brings one hand up to comb his fingers comfortingly through thekids soft, blond hair, “It’s not just the person we’re there to rescue whoseour priority. It’s you.”

He feels Alan nod against hisshoulder.

“Thanks Scotty.” He says, verysoftly, “I… I’m glad I’m not alone.”

“You Alan Tracy, have four older siblings whowould do anything you for.” Scott curls him close, pressing a kiss to theirbaby brother’s temple. “You are never alone.”

[poorvioletdraws]

Tom vs. The Underworld

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9  | Chapter 10

6. Time Bomb

Break the bonds, tear the fabric, cleave the stones, stop the magic…

… Break the bonds, tear the fabric, cleave the stones, stop the magic…

…. Break the bonds... Tear the fabric... Cleave the stones... STOP THE MAGIC!

As the former queens of Mewni gave their final chant, all of the dark magic that had been festering in the Realm of Magic began to negate into sludge. Being their only option, Star and her family finally made a decision in order to set things right and save the lives of all monsters and mewmans. Destroying all magic from being accessed by others, despite if their intentions were good or not, was the only option they had left given the time they could work with. 

However, a core element fighting to survive its approaching death rushed away from the group of spell-casters that were now moving towards an exit well from the realm. This particle, the last remaining piece of dark magic, had fed long enough on the devious emotions of its demon host that it craved that power once more. It sought out an escape from the destruction. Anywhere at this point. As long as it can infect another host and thrive again. It couldn’t perish just yet.

The thunder roared as the dark magic speck darted away from the final spell’s effect in a direction that felt like it needed to head towards—almost as if it were being pulled. But soon it was cornered by a crystallized rock formation in the once-enchanted ocean where the water was cascading upward toward a portal. With this being its last resort, the fragmented darkness that was determined to survive retreated up the opposite-flowing waterfall just in time before it collapsed with the realm.

A familiar blue figure hung above the spectacle and bore the only witness to the successful evasion of the evil-induced entity.

“It seems that something interesting is about to happen... It’s a shame I won’t be able to observe any of it. But I am overdue for a long nap…” Glossaryck lamented as he gave a yawn and faded out of existence... 

“Goodluck, kid…”

The Crystal Dimension was going through an extreme alteration due to the instability of magic. And because the user whose powers kept those locked away within the dimension no longer existed either, the universe was in for an unpleasant surprise.

The crystals created by Rhombulus began to melt away like popsicles in the scorching heat.

“Gyaaaagh!” A jelly monster with three eyes gasped for air while huddling over the disintegrating crystal.

“Ahahahaha! I’m free! Yes, yes, yes!” A female monster dressed up in a wacky astronaut costume chortled as she jumped away from her once-imprisoned spot.

“Ussss too, usss too!” A two-headed snake creature hissed beside her unanimously.

A large three-eyed reptilian monster came forward and grumbled, “Hmmhmmm, buuuuttt whyyyyy, yo?’

“Who cares! Now I, Zedlord, destroyer of planets, shall finally continue my quest to take over the galaxy!” A rather brash male monster dressed in black armor bellowed as he barged his way into the group.

“Planets? Didn’t you only blow up one planet?” a flying bat creature scoffed snarkily.

“Uh, n-no!” Zedlord stammered.

“And wasn’t that by accident too?” The bat creature mentioned.

“Quiet, you!” Zedlord shoved the creature away from him.

As the newly-freed criminals began to bicker amongst themselves, a portal from the Realm of Magic opened up nearby and out came the last known existence of dark magic. Now that it was separated from the realm, it didn’t have much time. It was left weakened from its travel into the other dimension and from the depletion of all other magic. It would surely die out if it couldn’t infect a host within the next few seconds. But which one to choose?

“I’ll fight you, I’ll fight all of you to prove how bad I am, come on!” Zedlord challenged. 

“Nah, no time fer yer puny monstah.” A sizable monster with one eye and one horn blew him off.

“Come here, I’ll show you puny!” Zedlord tried to rush at the monster but his opponent held him back effortless with one hand while answering him with a yawn. “What?! Scared?! Come on!”  

The group of bad monsters all began to exchange an assortment of teases, boasts, and arguments back and forth with each other.

The dark magic was ashamed of its options but it was also desperate. It would just have to settle with either one of them or its existence would be over. 

“Well, hello there, aren’t you rather… familiar….” A sly voice came from behind the dark matter. Although small, his aura was immense with a sinister vibe about him.

A spike in cruel intentions came from the shadowed figure the mass was now focused on. It was the same force that led it to that portal and brought it here as if for some kind of maniacal destiny. That was the one it needed, the one meant for it!

The dark magic rushed toward the figure but was halted by his raised hand.

“I’m sorry… Have you forgotten?” The formidable figure smirked as the mass began to scatter into particles, “You’ve always belonged to me, you were just taken away. But it seems things have changed in the universe to bring us together again… Now return to me!”

The dark magic now shot into the figure and a great red light filled the entire area in a flash.

“What was that?” The group of monsters wondered aloud now distracted from their quarreling.

“It came from behind that rock!”  

“Mighty Zedlord, go take a look.” the female monster from early told him.

“Hey, don’t boss me around!” Zedlord fumed.

“Quit wasting time and look.” The two-headed snake demanded.

“Argh, who cares about some wimpy light, I’ll blast that area to bits and show you all my power!” Zedlord shouted as he brought up his cannon arm.

“That won’t be necessary.” The shadowed figure announced as he appeared from behind the rocky wall.

A miniature red being floated into the scene. He wore a purple robe and his beard and eyebrows were long, thin black slits. He had a very all-knowing look painted across his face and kept his legs folded beneath him as if sitting criss cross on the floor even though he levitated before them.

“Who are you and how’d you get here!” Zedlord blurted out.

“Obviously a captive like the rest of us, genius.” The bat creature jeered as he rolled his eyes.

“Quiet, Batty!” 

“The names not ‘Batty’, it’s Martin.” The bat creature corrected.

“Seriously?”

“Ahem.” The red being cleared his throat in order to gain the attention of the group again. He then swirled into the air above his audience and said, “My name is Appendixon. I’ve existed for a lengthy amount of time, being the first to be imprisoned here in fact. And I’m going to use you all as my soldiers in my plan for revenge.”

The group was silent for a moment but then busted out laughing. Not the response Appendixon warranted.

“And why should any of us follow you!” Zedlord snickered, jabbing his finger in the red being’s direction. “You’re nothing more than a red, puny—“

“Careful with what you say next...” Appendixon admonished as his diamond-shaped eyes of emerald green peered at Zedlord brightly. “It may be your last words for I don’t need every single one of you.” That cruel intention from earlier began to flow from the suspicious red being and intimidated his insubordinate approacher. 

A huge shadow suddenly wriggled away from the small figure and loomed over the entire group of criminals. With it came the dark emotions and substantial strength of the magic now within. They began to cower.

“Sorry if I miscommunicated, I wasn’t giving any of you a choice. Either follow, or die here.” Appendixon threatened with a glare.

“Y-yes, sir…” Zedlord piped up and bowed before the red being. The group of monsters did the same without hesitation.

“Stellar!” Appendixon changed his tone to a more jovial one and looked delighted with their obedience. 

“Now then…” He brought up his hands as his eyes lit up. A rift began to static into creation and a black portal ripped open, large enough for all of them.  “I have some unfinished business on Mewni that I’ve been itching to take care of for a few centuries. Shall we begin?”

The horde of the universe’s most evil beings agreed with a cheer for their new leader’s budding plan.

“Hey, can I get a ride with you guys?” A small, light-blue furry monster approached the departing group from a wall he was recently hiding behind. “I’ve been stuck here for so long and all I came here for was to deliver pizza!” He was holding his violet ball cap and appeared to be pleading to them.

Appendixon’s followers looked to him for an answer.

“Ugh, sure…” Appendixon shrugged. “Just because I love pizza. That sounds good right now actually...”      

First pizza, then conquest.

[lacrossepapi]

Salt, Sun, and Scales

Ao3: Link 

This is for @missleeismyname! 

Peter’s favorite time of day was twilight. The main reason for this preference was currently swimming towards him with a big goofy grin on his face.

“Stinky Petey!” Called the boy as he stretched and shook out his legs as if they hadn’t been used in a long time.

“I’m not stinky!” Peter snapped without heat.

“You’re stinky to me! You smell like sweat and something weird and only on you land walkers.” Stiles chuckled as he placed a shell on the tallest rock on the beach, just like he did every evening.

“You always call me a land walker, but aren’t you walking on land right now? How does that even make sense Stiles? Everybody walks on land.” Peter huffed, knowing where this argument headed.

“Why do you question me? Am I not knowledgeable?” He asked with a tilt of his head, stepping closer to Peter, “Am I not witty?” Another step. “Am I not beautiful?”

Stiles winked and kissed Peter’s nose like he did every time Peter saw him.

“You are all those things Stiles, but you are also silly and nonsensical. Sometimes I think I have stumbled upon a faerie.” Peter breathed, the reverence in his voice wrapping around them both.

Stiles’ laugh always reminded Peter of a barking sea lion, which should annoy Peter, but had quickly grown endearing.

“Do you think me one of the fae?”, Another bout of barking laughter, “You silly boy. Best not mention them again lest they hear and curse you for such slander.”

Peter scrunched up his face at the warning. Everyone knew the fae were just heresy the blasphemers used to scare good Christian children. They weren’t real.

“They don’t-”

“Hush now darling. Have the land walkers rotted your brain so much you have forgotten all sense?”

Peter really liked when Stiles called him darling. Stiles looked only a couple of years older than him yet spoke as if he’d been alive a lot longer, which should make Peter annoyed but had also grown to be endearing.

-

Peter’s youth passed in warm nights on the shore with his ethereal boy. As Peter matured Stiles seemed to stay the same, the “boy” always hushing Peter when he asked what kept Stiles young.

The Sea Wolves had taken Peter on the eve of his fifteenth birthday, coming for him under the burning midday sun, scared of nothing save the creatures that roamed the moonlit waters and the fearsome pirate, whose name, The Fearsome Fang, was only whispered for fear of summoning the demon himself.

Now when Peter looked back on those hazy dream-like nights he couldn’t remember if they were even real, or if they were just a boyhood fantasy.

Peter was to be their land errand boy, but soon they realized his skills and knowledge surpassed that of the usual port town boys they had taken. Yes, Peter had grown up speaking multiple languages and had learned how to treat the people of other nations from an early age, but Peter also had knowledge of the much more dangerous and rare things that one could come across out on the unforgiving ocean.

Peter knew the ways of the Fae, the language of the mermaids, the warding incantations to keep them safe, how to spot siren lairs, and much more. He had never questioned Stiles’ need to educate him in the ways of creatures he knew didn’t exist and now he was indebted to that strange boy for the knowledge he gifted Peter.

Of course Peter’s own cunning nature also helped him thrive with the Sea Wolves. Before the winds could bring in the new chill Peter had already shed his “slave name” and was an initiated member of The Sea Wolves known across the mystical realms as Sly Pete The Charming.

Sly Pete was a beautiful man, with sun tanned skin and ocean bright eyes. The mischief in his smile promised a wild night on the waves or in the sheets, humans and creatures both fell under his thrall as the man blossomed into a devious marauder.

Many, many leagues away a boy perpetually on the cusp of manhood waits every night for the boy with bright eyes and a quick wit. And every night his human does not come to greet him on that far away shore he sings a mourning song for nights lost to the treacherous days of adulthood.

-

By the time Stiles figured out who Sly Pete was the boy, who was then a man, was already a corpse.

“Genevieve, please come back!” Stiles heard the shouts, but was too deep in his own overwhelming grief to care that a human was upset.

“No! He was my youngest son! The only of your flock that truly was mine! And now he’s gone!” The woman was screaming, her anger and grief tearing across her words leaving her hoarse.

“He’s been gone for years now Gen.” The man sounded so defeated, the sound echoing  against the chasm in Stiles’ heart.

He could no longer pretend they did the grieve the same boy, the same man. He turned away from the large rock jutting out of the rocky beach that was covered in shells, to face the humans and was greeted by two tear swollen faces, one angry, one resigned.

“Why do you still wait? Why didn't you ever look for him!” Stiles hadn't realized she was talking to him until she took a  furious step toward him, “You've power indeed, yet you chose to sit here each night singing your dirges and reminding us of our losses! You could've saved my boy!”

The human woman Genevieve was in front of him quickly an accusing finger pointed directly at him.

“I did not realize he'd been taken. I thought he simply chose to explore the world.” An ashamed sigh “I could not fault him for his wanderlust of the land, but I could not follow him there. So I waited.” Stiles had thought for years that Peter abandoned him to be a typical human and make his own way in the world, he'd never thought for a second he could keep his human boy.

“You foolish immortal!” The woman hissed before dropping to her knees in front of him and sobbing, “He loved you. He loved the home he had here with us. His family and his companion. And now he is gone.”

Shiny silver tears pooled beneath Stiles amber eyes. He'd truly been a fool. He could have saved this fierce and loving woman the grief that now threatened to weaken her. He could have saved himself from the grief that wrapped around him like dark murky seaweed in the depths of the waters he had once found welcoming.

“Son, I know not what you are but I do know that you are kind. Is there any way you can find his body and give him a proper burial for us?” Stiles had been so enraptured by the scene of Peter's mother unraveling in front of him he hadn't even noticed the man approach.

Stiles could not stay in this port town, on this shore he'd called home for many years, it was splashed with memories of his precious boy, memories of happiness long passed. Finding the, now, man's body would be almost impossible, but Stiles need not succeed in his endeavor, even trying would bring peace to this family he could not protect.

“I cannot promise such a feat but I will venture out into the unknown to rectify the wrongs done to your family.” Stiles’ normally honey eyes shone the color of the sunset sun as a single opalescent tear rolled down his pale freckled cheek.

The man nodded solemnly and gathered his wife into his arms before gently guiding her back the way they'd came.

Someone had to pay for pain that ravaged his heart and the hearts of the humans under his protection.

Stiles walked into the dark moonlit water grief in his heart and vengeance in his eyes.

-

If one was to inquire, they might be told The Fearsome Fang danced and drank the nights away with strangers of every race, orientation, and even species. If they were then to actually witness his revelry they would see him leaving seedy establishments each night with a different partner. Although all of this was true, he did revel and leave with a different person each night, it was not the whole truth, for The Fearsome Fang used the farce of nightly passion to hide his actual deeds.

If one was to track the pirate, they might be surprised to find a clear trail across port towns of found missing boys, large sums of money left on orphanage and school house doors, and a single shell left on the tallest rock in the bay.

The Fearsome Fang had such a reputation for being an absolute scourge that not a single human around could see the pattern. A scourge he truly was though, despite his good deeds, he’d always had been a cunning little devil.

The bar quieted as  he entered, boots heavy and eyes flashing, but he flashed a sharp devious grin and the music started up again as if it’d never paused. The patrons knew by the second night that if Fang flashed that smile, they were safe in his presence and would be much richer soon, so they too quickly resumed their raucous chatter.

“You lose again Fang!” a drunken farmer jeered taking the last of the pirate’s money.

The larger man’s blue eyes turned cold, “Yes, yes I did. Now take your winnings and get out of my sight before I take my gold back.”

The drunk man swallowed before nodding shakily and scooping the money into his pockets.

“Dread Pirate Drake! Two-Face Timothy! Escort this drunk home and make sure my money doesn’t get stolen off his corpse on the way there.” The pirate captain commanded without looking up from his new hand to see if his men had obeyed, he knew they would.

To anyone listening it would seem like this fearsome, merciless pirate had just told his men to kill the drunk and take his gold back, but Stiles only smirked under his hooded cloak because he knew that was not the actual order. That man would arrive safe with more gold that he had actually deserved to win. Stiles had seen the pirate captain's winning hand, three rounds while the pirate had conceded his gold, he had also heard the father lamenting his poor crop harvest and his trouble finding men to take his three daughters with such a small dowry for each.

It seemed The Fearsome Fang had a heart of gold, the heart of a young boy taken from his home without a choice. Stiles grinned with undiluted delight.

“You are not subtle on your feet.” the words stalled Stiles’ next step causing him to stumble out into the dim street lamp.

He looked up as The Fearsome Fang started laughing at his clumsiness, and was met with warm blue eyes and smile lines indicative of a happy man.

“Are you to slay me where I stand?” a cough, “Kneel, I should say.” Stiles’ pale skin turned the faintest shade of pink from embarrassment.

“Ah, you still speak as if you’re from an older, more sophisticated world.” Fang chuckled with fondness as he strode toward Stiles’ collapsed form.

“You should know well the world I hail from. You travesered the vast seas without me. You know of my realm now.” Stiles tried to keep the hurt from his voice, but it was hard not to mourn the adventures they could have had together.

“Tut-tut darling.” Peter chided, “Why do you scorn me? Am I not knowledgeable?”

Peter tilted his head, his wild mane swaying over, and stepped closer, “Am I not witty?”

“Am I not beautiful?” With his final question he crouched before Stiles and kissed his nose.

Silver streamed down Stiles’ face, shining in the dim light of the moon, “Oh how I have missed you my darling boy.”

Peter smiled sadly at Stiles before helping the male to his feet.

“Boy, I am no longer, my heart.” He took a step back, keeping his arm on Stiles’ waist, so that he could look at Stiles’ form, “Though you look as if it has been but a smattering of years not the long decade that I have felt in my soul each night I did not see you.”

“Yes, I age slow like the dance of kelp on the ocean floor.” Peter’s snort cut off Stiles’ next sentence.

“What pompousness! You silly immortal, just speak like a normal person.” Peter demanded with a humored huff.

“I am not a normal person so I shall speak as I damned well please, Fang.” Stiles snapped, stepping out of, no longer Peter but now, Fang's embrace.

He did not understand how Peter came to be the new Fearsome Fang, and he was rapidly growing tired of the mind games with this stranger.

“I was sent to give your body a proper burial. Your mother blamed me for your demise. What am I to tell her now that you have assumed this title and this life?” Stiles’ eyes flashed bright once in frustration.

He’d found his human, and yet he could not keep him.

Peter grasped Stiles’ hands earnestly as he pleaded, “Tell her nothing. Come with me, my heart.”

Stiles was stunned. His kind were not followers, but they were also not known for nightly strolls along beaches, Stiles was already an outsider in his realm, he could bear their scorn for following his heart.

-

The Fearsome Fang, a name known for spreading terror among the seas, had gained a new legend to his mythic story. A legend that spoke of an ocean spirit who protected his vessels and enacted wrathful assaults on all who dared oppose him. Fang’s own men had seen the elusive beast, and yet endeavored never to look too closely at the shimmer of light against the waves that stayed just a breath behind their ship.

Double-Crossed Christopher was Fang’s quartermaster and therefore the unfortunate soul incharge of approaching the captain about the men’s fears. The season had passed with unparalleled success and yet the crew did not rejoice, they lived in fear of the creature that protected them. Sea creatures were as fickle as the sea they lived in, it might protect them now, but what would happen when the sea turned rough? Chris did not want to find out, and neither did the large group of ship hands that approached him for answers.

“You think our Llyr blessed savior is going to mutiny.” It was not a question.

“Aye.”

“Christopher I thought you a smarter man. You’ve been listening to those swabs we call a crew haven’t you?” Fang gave him a fond smirk.

“Aye.”  Chris had always been a man of few words, but more so when speaking to his captain about official business.

“And if I gave you my word he wouldn’t?”

The question caught him off guard, spurring him to speak, “The men are scared sir.”

“Aye.” Fang’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he used Chris’s own sparsely worded responses against him.

-

Despite Double-Crossed Christopher’s attempts at calming the crew, Stiles still found himself in hot water.

Literally.

“What in Llyr’s name is going on in me own vessel!” The Fearsome Fang barked as he entered the loud underbelly of the ship.

“We caught us a mermaid!”

“A merman, ya scabby-sea bass!”

“A merman as pretty as a lass, Cap’n!”

Peter’s heart rate skyrocketed as dread settled upon his shoulders like a shroud. He shoved his men roughly to the side until finally the awful sight in the middle of the men revealed itself.

Stiles was sitting calmly in the middle of a large cauldron as the stew around him boiled. Peter would have frozen in terror if his love hadn’t been glaring directly at him.

“Smother those flames!” The Fearsome Fang’s voice silenced the men around him instantly, and spurred Double-Crossed Christopher into action.

The flames were quickly put out under The Fearsome Fang’s glare.

“Cap’n.” Christopher said with a nod.

“Listen here ye bilge rats, you are not to touch this creature. Ever.” Fang commanded.

“Aye.” The men replied.

“I’m not gonna ask what scallywag thought eating a creature as beautiful as this was fine idea, but know this men, I am not pleased.” Fang chastised with a stern look

“What should we do with it, captain?” a quiet voice inquired from behind him.

“We let him go!” Peter’s voice thundered out, the vibrations in the wooden boards around them brought a wicked smile to Stiles’ face.

The men grumbled a discontented “Aye, cap’n” before slowly moving out of the space.

“Will I be dancing with Jack Ketch by the night’s end captain?” Christopher was serious and solemn, even while asking if he’d be killed.

The question startled a laugh out of Stiles. He had not seen such sophistication and loyalty in a landwalker other than his boy. Unfortunately Christopher had not seen a mermaid or merman make any sound even similar to that of a human in his thirty-two long years.

“Oh Llyr, the expression on this landwalker’s face shall humor me for many nights!” Stiles laughed out.

Indeed, Double-Crossed Christopher, who was known for always looking angry, was staring open mouthed at the naked boy where once a mermaid had been.

“You may call me Stiles, human. The honor that binds your bones is strong, you are a male of your word and I find your demeanor while facing death comedic.” Stiles said with a sharp toothed smile.

“I know not what ye be.” Christopher breathed out as he sank to one knee and bowed his head.

Stiles’ seal like laugh echoed off the once boiling cauldron, “Ah, reverence. Christopher, I shall now consider you a friend of the sea. Rise. Fang would do well to follow your example.”, a snort from Fang followed by a dejected sigh from Stiles was all Chris heard before Stiles continued, “Alas he shall never mend his ways.”

-

“Aye ya slimy bastards! Hear ye!” The Fearsome Fang ordered, his men falling silent as he approached.

“It be time for change. I’ve got things to do, places to see, and people to screw.”

A hearty cheer rose up at the lewd comment.

“Meet your new boss!” Sly Pete said with a flourish.

The Fearsome Fang stepped out of the captain’s quarters with his head high and shoulders squared. This was when he’d be sized up and deemed worthy.

“Any objections?” Sly Pete asked with genuine curiosity, sometimes no one challenged which was quite dull.

“I object!” Slippery Scott stepped forward, a mischievous grin on his crooked jaw.

The Fearsome Fang’s answering grin was sharp yet grateful.

“As the old captain I’ll watch. When you’re ready lads.” Sly Pete said with a nod, stepping back to give the men space.

Slippery Scott, though young, was a fast and dirty fighter, and Peter genuinely enjoyed watching the clash between Scott's style and Christopher's.

Christopher's style would change the longer he was The Fearsome Fang, but at the moment it was still the professional sophisticated style of an old knight.

Peter had never asked about Christopher's past because it truly did not matter to the pirate, but over the years Peter had gleaned his origins. The older man's manners and personality spoke of a rich, perhaps even royal, upbringing surrounded by rules and corruption. Christopher would not step off the ship in some ports which spoke to where he came from.

The two opposing styles clashed in a chaotic but beautiful way that left Peter grinning and the crew calling for blood.

Scott's quick movements began to slow eventually, giving resilient Christopher the in he needed to knock the boy down.

“The challenger is defeated. Two cheers for The Fearsome Fang's first victory!” Sly Pete announced with a wicked smirk.

“Huzzah!”

-

That night Stiles listened through the door of Peter’s room as the entire ship celebrated their new captain. He had been around longer than pirates had roamed the seven seas and he would be around long after they were gone, and yet he was shockingly moved by the traditions that bloomed on these ships. No other pirate in the world could claim the legacy the original Fearsome Fang could. His has been whispered around fires for more than seventy years, though the man himself had been dead forty. Pirates, peasants, and royalty alike feared the immortal, though only very few knew he was not one man but a long line of men taking up his name and his ship. Peter would never be able to tell his family whom he’d become, but he could tell them he’d worked for the legend, which would earn him enough notoriety to protect his family and their homes from wayward thieves.

Peter had left a boy and would return a provider and a man.

Stiles dreaded facing Genevieve again, he had never met such a ferocious human, but he did not dread reuniting Peter with his mother. Not many boys taken by pirates lived past their first month, much less prosper.

“Sly Peter ya nasty bugger come back ‘ere!” The use of Peter first pirate name jared Stiles back into the moment and sent him currying across the room to lie nonchalantly on the bed. He quickly grabbed a book to read before Peter entered.

“That sounded like a merry time.” Stiles offered sarcastically in greeting.

“Yes, it was.” Peter answered before a filthy grin slid onto his face and he said, “That book is upside down.”  

“Damn you Peter Hale. May the waters never envelop you in warmth, but in icy chill instead.” Stiles hissed, embarrassed Peter had caught him.

Peter’s chuckle sent a wave of warmth over Stiles causing him to flush a pretty pale rose color.

“Easy darling. I have returned because I yearned for your company, but if you are to curse me all night I shall return to the rats outside.” Peter’s blue eyes brightened as he approached the bed, and Stiles cursed his superior senses for drowning him in the smell of Peter’s hormones.  He was done for the second his pirate had felt a sensual thought.

“Damn you.” Stiles mumbled one last time before Peter’s whiskey lips devoured him.

“I’d rather damn us both sweet boy.” Peter’s voice was low as he worked down Stiles’ throat sucking pink and green marks into the male’s skin, though they disappeared shortly after.

“Despite it being a curse on my life, I do enjoy that mouth of yours my heart.” Stiles gasped in ecstasy.

“The only cursed thing in this bed is your healing. One day I will mark your perfect skin and you will bare my claiming to both our worlds.” Peter’s voice rumbled as he spoke his promise, before biting Stiles’ pelvic bone harshly.

-

Genevieve was still as fearsome as she had been on that sorrow trodden beach years ago. Stiles would never mention it, but he’d smelled the tears on Peter’s face as he gripped that fierce woman as tight as her frail body would allow. The years had not been kind to his family, his father could no longer stand by himself and his mother was only barely able to herself. His elder sister had moved inland and sired three children and currently carried the fourth. Her boy Derek looked like Peter more than he did his own father, and her youngest Cora had Peter’s sharp tongue and mischievous nature.

Stiles made sure Peter visited all of his family members as often as possible, even if it meant leaving him at the shore line. He had not gotten to say goodbye to his mortal mother, and his father had wasted away shortly after his mate had died.  

The small shack they lived in was quaint and warm. It was everything Stiles had ever dreamed of having all those long years he mourned his human. He found himself nesting more and more each night, their home soon covered in beautiful shells of all shapes, sizes, and shades. Every morning Peter rose with him to return to the sea. Stiles would swim while Peter read to him or spun wild tales of his life as a pirate, some that Stiles simply could not believe were true.

“Peter! Those waters are full of sirens! How ever did you get passed them?” Stiles gasped, his tail slowing in the water beneath him.

“I knew what to expect my love. You kept me safe, even if you were not beside me I carried you with me. It was your warning of gray teeth like rocks and the shores behind them that kept me from getting too close.” Peter soothed Stiles’ frown lines away with his thumb as he smiled warmly at him.

“I didn’t finish my lessons with you. I should have spoke faster, and less about shells! What a bubble headed fool I was.” Stiles sighed.

Peter kissed him soft and slow.

“It matters not. I am here. You found me my heart. You brought me home. And now we have eternity.” Peter smiled again before kissing his forehead softly.

They did not have eternity, Stiles knew, but what they did have was now and now would be good enough for Stiles.

[wolfjustdraws]

The King’s Choice: The Bond - Interlude

“The Bond” - Interlude

Lockwood and Co. Series

Summary: a deal that cannot be broken

Warning: NSFW (kinda)

————

The rain’s heavy falling and the roaring thunder were the only things that could be heard around the whole kingdom. The trees were shaken around by the terrible wind that wrecked the lands, brought by the dreadful storm. River Sinforte ran ferociously at the edge of the forest and crashed against its rocky banks, the water jumping out madly to the trees.

Everyone was firmly tucked inside their beds for the night, covered by their soft and warm quilts as they snored quietly, peacefully. The children were fast asleep since hours ago, the women and men laid on their beds, holding each other lovingly, guarding the warmth of their bed.

No soul should have been wandering the streets and roads of the towns at such hour of the night, or in such weather as the one that rocked the houses and stores. No one ought to walk the lanes of the silent city in conditions as the one that oversaw the land that night.

And yet one did.

My horse’s hooves clicking against the cobblestone of the roads was completely drowned by the rain, the neighing and huffing from the nervous animal eaten up by the thunders that boomed high above us. The shops and stalls were of course closed, the fruit and vegetables having been taken inside the houses so they wouldn’t get ruined by the weather. The smell of spiced meat, roasting inside blazing ovens was obviously absent, the usual glamour of the marketplace stolen from its rightful place.

I made my way quietly through the districts of the city. There were some Guards stationed here and there in the corners of the avenues, pacing around the streets, standing in silence in the alleys as was their duty. They would eye me curiously from their posts, and many approached me to question my intentions, or likely to send me on my way back home, but they’d immediately back away when they caught the glare I gave them from under the hood of my cloak.

Soon I was out of town and making my way through the dirt-roads to the wide forest that bordered the land. My horse neighed anxiously as we advanced, entering the mass of trees that separated our city with the next.

No one dared to enter the forest, not during the day, and even less during the night, given the countless stories and legends of horrible monsters that devoured men, of the vicious devils and demons that lured people into their heinous ploys, of the godless women and men that devoted their lives to the wicked dark arts.

It had to be here somewhere…

The white light of the moon above the treetops was slowly becoming less and less as we went deeper into the forest, making it harder for me to recognize my surroundings. Not that it was easier before- the woods looked fairly the same everywhere you looked no matter the lighting you got. It seemed like everywhere I turned I would see the same tree with twisted roots and thick branches, heavy leaves that were weighted with the water of the rain. The sound of owls hooting from their nests inside tree trunks, the tiny claws of the wood’s critters agains the branches, the slight hissing of animals resting in their dens surrounded me along the rain.

Eventually I managed to see a small dot of light among the trees and I directed my horse towards it. Ignoring its nervous whining and the slightly struggle on the reigns, it followed my command and marched towards the light source. It steadily grew bigger, then another light appeared. Then another. And one more.

I pulled the reigns back, my horse stopping with a fearful snort. We stood before a great oak tree, its trunk thick like a castle’s towers, and long and tall just like one. It had some holes- windows on some parts of its trunk, which allowed to see a bright, slightly flickering light coming from inside.

The horse shifted nervously on its hooves as I jumped off- and I couldn’t blame it, there was a strong, eerie atmosphere about the place.

Just like I needed it to be. I found there to be no door on the trunk, even after I had circled it multiple times to make sure. Eventually I just decided to knock on the bark of the tree, my knuckles hurting slightly.

There was a slight new sound coming from the bark, but I had no time to recognize it before I saw a bright outline form on the trunk. It intensified gradually, taking form on the outside and before I knew it, the bark swung open on its own. I made no move back as I felt the pull of my horse’s reigns in my hand, keeping firmly in place as a tall figure made its way through the new hole.

“…why, hello there, your Highness”

Its voice was dark and deep, rather melodious, like roots of a tree that had been planted centuries ago and grown far into the ground, and yet it hid in it a jovial spark, a lightness to it, giving it a pleasant tone. Still, I could feel a twinge of snark hidden not-so-subtly inside it.

“Good evening” I answered simply. The figure kept the opening ajar with a hand pressed on it, its long, dark robes hanging from its long arm. Everything about it seemed long, from its arm, to its pale hand, to the robe that covered it, to the body that was under it, to the long mane of hair that flowed out of the hood.

“Such hour of the night to have come, couldn’t you wait for a more reasonable hour?”

“I’m afraid not” It stepped back into the trunk, gesturing me to come after it. I hesitated.

Giving the oak tree another skeptical look and making sure my horse wouldn’t ran off into the woods, I walked after it through the opening. It was impossible to hide the small gasp that came out of my mouth. The inside of the tree was at the least three times bigger than how it looked from the outside, a sitting room complete with couches, small tables, even a few potted plants displayed before me, elegantly arranged before an actual chimney. I silently wondered how it was that the fire didn’t jump out of the chimney and burned everything, but I kept quiet.

The door closed behind me and I turned around to look at the figure again. The black robe it wore covered its complete body, sweeping the floor at its feet and the hood sheltering its head. However, it didn’t cover its pale and thin face, or the dark eyes with which the figure stared at me, or the devious smirk they gave me, pearl white teeth glimmering slightly in the fire’s light.

My body grew warm under my cloak.

“I see. And what can a humble sorcerer like myself do for you?” Their voice had a certain purr to it, a deep rumbling sound that reached me and caused me to forget the reason of my visit. It came back to me a second later.

“I’m here for your help”

“And what can I help you with?”

“I need power” The words sounded pitiful to my ears, just like I knew how desperate it must have sounded to them. I felt the deprived and destitute thirst for it as I said it. The shaking weakness in my bones from the lack of it, the sickening emptiness in my stomach from the need of it, the insatiable hunger in my heart from the desire of it. My whole body, in those words, trembled feebly from need.

The sorcerer’s smirk grew “you’re quite greedy aren’t you, your Highness?”

I clenched my jaw before thinking of an answer. There were rumors around the kingdoms, feared rumors, that those who pledged their souls to the dark arts could read the souls of the people. Personally, I had never listened to those gossips, mainly because never before had I been with a conjurer or an augurer.

“My reasons do not concern you, necromancer” I spat the words at it as judgmentally as I could. They only brought a hand to its chest and faked a pained gasp.

“And here I thought I was going to be of service to this great land-” They moved the hand to their mouth and snickered quietly before finishing its sentence. I opened my mouth, fishing my mind for something intelligent with what to reply, but my words were cut before they came out as the wizard threw their head back with a barking laugh “oh glorious constellations- ‘great land’- ha! Can’t even say it- This kingdom has never been anything but wasteland!”

I glared at them from under my cloak, my cheeks heated and my lips pursed tightly. Angrily, I opened my mouth again to yell a command of silence at it, but I suddenly found myself to have an eyeful of the sorcerer’s insulting grin right before me.

“Isn’t that what got you in this situation, your Highness?” They sneered “after all, he wouldn’t have said all those things about you and your lands if they weren’t true, would he?”

My eyes widened. I took a step back, ignoring the way my legs trembled with fury under me.

“that’s- that’s-!” If we hadn’t been in their tree and if I had come escorted by my usual guard, I would have had them go to prison. However, I could do nothing against it; I wasn’t at my manor. This was their humble abode- and as a guest of their house I of course could not refute them. Specially cause there wasn’t anything to refute.

Its sneer grew indignantly wider.

“How do you know that?” I demanded.

Their hood rose a little higher above me as it stood a little straighter “I, your Grace, know everything worth knowing, and that not worth knowing too. That that should be known and that that should not be known by the eyes of the living. The indisputable and studied things of the world, and the deepest and darkest secrets of the universe. The harmless facts of life and the most dangerous mysteries of death”

In any other circumstance I would have laughed off those ludicrous claims; I would have called them mad and probably ordered them to be dragged to the dungeons and delighted myself to the sound of the pleading cries disappearing down the corridors of my manor. I would have done it if that hadn’t been what I’d been wishing to hear.

Before a word could leave my mouth I found long and rather bony finger pressed against my lips, the sorcerer ‘shh’ing me.

“But you must know, your Highness, that I can only share with you the knowledge you seek by making a deal with you”

I took a step back from their cold finger “a deal?”

“We must strike a deal for me to lay you all you wish to know”

I gave a brief nod “Well, what do you want?”

They simply shrugged “Don’t know. I usually prefer for my speaker to make me some proposals and the deal goes through when they offer me something that catches my fancy. Every soothsayer is different, we each have our methods and tastes. So…” Their smirk returned to their face “what are you willing to sacrifice for the power you seek, your Grace?”

I looked away thoughtfully, considering and meditating their words as quickly as I could. I hadn’t prepared for that- I hadn’t thought or even imagined that I’d really get where I was right now. I was only a few steps - fewer by the minute! - of acquiring the power, the means I needed to carry out my retribution! It was basically in my grasp, I just had to reach a little further…

“The kingdom” I declared proudly. The sorcerer placed a hand on their chin, seeming to consider my offer.

“Tempting. Buuuuuuuut…no”

I gawked “what? Why not?!”

“Seeing how things are as of right now, you aren’t the actual ruler of this land, thus this realm isn’t yours to trade so unless you become ‘Your Majesty’ in the next couple of minutes you’ll need something else to bargain with”

With a deep breath, and leaving behind the small glimmer of hope I had that it wouldn’t come to this, I met their dark eyes.

“My eternal soul”

They narrowed their eyes at me, like considering my offer. I realized I held back my breath, waiting for their answer. It seemed to me like it was forever before they finally parted their lips and…laughed…They guffawed obscenely delighted and ridiculously loud, doubling over inside their cloak, hands on their knees. I blinked furiously.

“Oh stars-! that was rich” They stood straight once again, wiping a tear away from their eye “First of all; I’m a sorcerer, not a demon, second, what would I ever do with something intangible and pointless like a soul? No, no, if you really want the knowledge you seek then you’ll have to offer something more…corporeal”

I cursed under my breath, listing the few things I had with me “my horse?”

“I’ve got three”

“this cloak?”

“Mine is much more prettier”

“My gown?”

“While I’d certainly love seeing you ride through this forest naked, only wearing that cloak, I’d never wear the gown, so no”

“My hair?”

“Your Highness, you insult me. Do you have any idea how much work I put into maintaining this style of my own?”

I ran over my mind in search of something else I could offer to them, but I had nothing.

“Surely there must be something you can offer?”

I shook my head.

“I see. Well, this has been an utter waste of time” The soothsayer shrugged “Guess you’ll have to find another way to look for the answer to your predicament with someone else, your Highness, or simply give up, I mean, you could forget about his words and settle for the life we both know you’ve been born to-”

“Wait!” I yelled, teeth gritted tightly “There is something else I can offer”

I almost backed down when I saw their derisive smirk “oh? And what might that me?”

“M- myself” I swallowed down the sudden lump in my throat “Give me the knowledge I came for…and you can do as you please with me”

Their eyebrow raised with picked interest. With one hand on their chin and scratching it lightly, deeply in thought, their other ashen hand rose from within the cloak and disappeared into mine, finding my chest inside and gripping it.

A furious blush rose up my entire face when I felt them squeeze.

“You- bastard!” I swatted their hand away and slapped them across the face, hard as I could. The wizard didn’t react to the blow, not even the slightest flinch to it. I huffed angrily.

“I find your offer to be…” they licked their lips, a shiver running down my spine “acceptable” Their hand pulled out from under my cloak and its long, cadaverous fingers extended at me, hand stretched for me to take “but we must shake on it”

With a soft sigh, I brought my own hand up. I wasn’t really sure what was the difference between offering my soul and offering myself other than the bodily complications and conveniences, but what was all that for a sorcerer?

My small hand was easily enveloped in their’s “Its a deal”

A wide grin split the mage’s lips “Exquisite. Although, this should hurt a little - feel free to squirm and scream as you please”

“What do you-“ My next words were killed still inside my throat. My chest was suddenly pierced by a terrible pain, a sword-like stinging, hot like iron inside a fire just over my beating heart.

My knees buckled over under me and I fell to the ground. My eyes were blinded by the pain I felt - it seemed to have extended to the rest of my body and if it wasn’t that the sorcerer was still holding my hand firmly in his, I would have writhed and thrashed violently on the floor like a maniac.

The pain stopped as soon as it came and I looked down inside my cloak. Peaking from under my clothes, I could identify what appeared to be a sigil, blood red and seemingly in constant movement on my soft and snowy skin.

“Now that the deal has been closed” The grin became dark under their hood “lets go look for the power you seek, Princess”