#a big tangle of Bad in different degrees in different ways all of which i dont wanna touch!!!

[blazehedgehog]

You need to reread Archie Sonic. I can assure you, it was not as nearly as good as you thought it was, and the IDW comic is not as nearly as bad as you think it is. Slow arcs doesn't mean bad arcs, and there's more character development than just "Surge attacks Sonic." And this arc clearly had an ending. Stop letting the metal plague arc overright your critical thinking skills. It was *years ago.*

My question to you is this: are you involved with the production of IDW Sonic? Because if you aren't, it sounds like you're taking something personally that was not directed at you and have saddled yourself with the responsibility of teaching me a lesson.

I'd like to point you to this post from six months ago, where I had nothing but nice things to say about IDW Sonic. I ran across it recently while digging through my blog for a different post (which I could not find, thanks Tumblr Search). Contrast that with the post where I say "the last six months have been kind of boring in retrospect."

I think I'm allowed to say that. I'm allowed to be bored. A story arc that amounts to "Eggman built a really big and scary city" feels weirdly low key and kind of bland (he's built a lot of cities), and none of the other story arcs feel like they've been paying off.

Coming at me from the angle of "WELL ARCHIE SUCKS TOO YOU JUST DON'T REMEMBER IT" is very strange to me, because that's just, like, your opinion, man. You even suggest the concept of opinion itself is fallible.

And maybe mine is. I dunno. Who I was yesterday is not who I will be tomorrow. But who I was when Archie was good thought it was great. I was practically counting the days for new issues. I was about to start a monthly comic review column for TSSZ just to have an excuse to get a subscription.

I was a different person back then. But also I was feelin' pretty high on IDW Sonic just six months ago and now it feels like they're stalling.

Yes, I said it's felt like something has been missing for a long time, and to some degree it has. The world of IDW Sonic revolves around six characters and four or five locations, and some of those locations don't have very strong identities outside of "it's like the place from the video games." The depth and the breadth of Archie isn't there.

But you at least had intent. Surge was interesting, Starline was interesting, Belle was interesting, Sonic jabbing Eggman about Mr. Tinker was interesting, everyone jabbing Sonic about letting villains go all the time was interesting, Tails was desperately trying to use the non-violent approach with Kitsunami. There was strong characterization for miles.

What have we had over the last six months?

Surge came back, and she repeated a longer, slower version of the same interaction she had with Sonic in issue #50.

It was revealed that Surge is having PTSD hallucinations of Dr. Starline.

Eggman built another city, but this builds and repairs itself, which doesn't actually mean anything given we've never drawn attention to how Eggman builds or repairs his cities before. The dude has a robot army, it's reasonable to assume he's always had cleanup and repair crews. Telling me it's "special" now isn't really exciting.

Tangle said the wrong thing, upset Whisper and they had a girlfriends moment about it. But given Tangle was just being the way Tangle always has been, this isn't exactly a major event.

We were introduced to Lanolin, who so far has very little backstory and barely established a personality besides "does not want to put up with Tangle's shenanigans." So like half the cast, then.

Team Dark was retconned back into existence, so Shadow gets to be part of stories again.

It doesn't feel like this is going anywhere right now, and the world around it isn't robust enough to pick up the slack and keep it interesting.

And you don't have to take it personally. You don't have to hit back. It isn't about you.

[nefja]

The Icie FAQ

Why did I decide on an Icelandic Sheepdog?

I was looking for a medium-sized, healthy, friendly, fluffy dog breed you could do sports and/or long hikes with and found a huge list of dog breeds. After some scrolling I had my top canditades which now required further inspection.

The Icie stood out once more so I contacted a breeder, met up with them and fell in love with their 6 Icies.

What’s Nefja’s personality like?

Icies are generally friendly, playful, curious, not fearful, tough, agile and intelligent. Their “I need to run after that fast moving object!!”-drive (prey drive) is manageable if you start working with them from a young age and preferably they don’t have an experience with 5 months in which they run after a long-gone car in the woods for 1km after breaking free.

Due to bad experiences, Nefja is a bit wary of big dogs, cows and sheep. She knows what she wants and what she doesn't want. She has opinions and makes you listen to them.

You can wake her up at 3am and she's ready to do stuff but that's just her character. Other may Icies give you the stink eye.

How fluffy are they and what kind of fur do they have?

They come in short and long coat but the long one is way more common. Both are soft and weatherproof with thick undercoat. You can pet them for hours without getting oily/greasy hands.

Coat / Paw / Ear - maintenance

Coat maintenance is actually quite minimal which means I brush Nefja every 2-3 months. Before her spay I brushed her for summer/winter coat change. There are some coat texture differences so others may get knots/tangles behind the ears. I bathe her with dog shampoo when she rolled in something stinky.

General paws require no different care to other dogs. A trim to tame the gremlin feet if you feel like it and normal nail clipping.

Dewclaws

Icies have single or double dewclaws on both hind feet which need regular clipping (we use a dremel). Some are only attached by skin but some are attached by bone. When they get too long they can get caught on stuff or the ones on the other leg and hurt the dog. There is no need to medically remove them as long as you keep them short. In fact, it actually falls under mutilation in Germany and other countries just like ear cropping.

How biddable and affectionate are they?

Yes.

It depends on character obviously but I think all of them want to please you to some degree and they are definitely biddable. Nefja’s getting more affectionate as she’s getting older but others are already cuddly from the start. They want to be with you at all times or at least know what you’re doing and where you are.

What sports do Icies enjoy?

There are almost no limits I’d say.

We’ve tried a bunch which I’ll link a post to here.

They’re overall too friendly to do Schutzhund with and some breeders (mine) even have it in their contract that you’re not allowed to do it with the dog.

[readymades2002]

like...i DONT trust lefttubers fhkdsj ill listen to their shit bc its long and its white noise but like i do not trust any of them 

[sluttywonwoo]

desperate || c.sc x reader

Summary: the first time seungcheol fucks you raw (sponsored by irresponsible decisions)

Warnings: swearing, smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: originally posted on my tom holland fic account ( @wazzupmrstark )

Masterlist

additional warnings: oral (m receiving), choking, unprotected sex, semi-public sex (bathroom), creampies

“Baby,” Seungcheol groaned against your neck in an attempt to get your attention, but if you’d heard him you were choosing to ignore him as you continued to grind down onto his lap with your head buried in his shoulder. “Baby,” he tried again, “I don’t have a condom.”

He was still desperately rifling through his wallet with one hand and digging through the pockets in his jeans with the other in the hollow hope that maybe he’d find one.

He always carried condoms with him, he had since before you had started dating. How the hell was he missing one now- then it dawned on him. Last month, at that bar back in London when you had been wearing nothing under your tight black skirt and he just had to have you… god damn it, Cheol, he thought to himself. He had used the last one then, when he fucked you in the bathroom that night. But now you were the needy one and he couldn’t even take the edge off for you.

Despite the circumstances at hand, Seungcheol’s body was reacting accordingly to your actions. His cock was straining against his jeans and he was almost positive you could feel his erection against your thigh. And if your moans were any indication, he was right.

He sighed into your shoulder, and used his hands to still your hips. Your bottom lip jutted out in a pout momentarily before you began pressing languid kisses to his neck, sucking hickeys right underneath his jaw.

“Y/n, I-I don’t have a condom,” Seungcheol stuttered out again and pushed on your shoulders to make sure you heard him this time.

“I don’t care,” you whined, slumping forward onto your boyfriend in defeat. “I want you so bad.”

“I know, darling,” he said in a hushed whisper, trying to ignore the way your hips were still rocking instinctively on top of his.

If you were at home it wouldn’t be such a big deal. Seungcheol could just pop out to the shops and be back within the hour with enough condoms to go as many rounds as you wanted. But you were all the way in Monaco at the F1 Grand Prix- it wasn’t like you could just come and go as you pleased, once your ticket was scanned at the beginning of the day you were stuck there because the no re-entry policy was strictly enforced at all exits. You’d learned that the hard way on the first day.

When asked later, your friends would claim not to know where you and Seungcheol had run off to. But everyone knew. You were a bit infamous for bathroom quickies, hence that night at the bar last month, and you had been before Cheol was in the picture. Bars, restaurants, movie theaters, clubs, and department stores were all fair game to you. Today was no different. Seungcheol was sitting on the counter with his back pressed against the mirror in one of the racetrack’s tiny, one-person facilities and you were straddling his lap.

Everything had been going routinely when Seungcheol broke the news and you felt your heart (or rather, your pussy) shatter into a million pieces. He just looked so goddamn good in that pink shirt with his hair slicked back like that… fuck. And the way he’d been acting this weekend, so casually confident with his friends and the racers, it brought out something primal in you.

“You want my fingers?” Seungcheol offered, holding up the middle and ring fingers on his left hand.

You shook your head. “Just want you.”

He chuckled lightly and brushed your hair out of your eyes. You knew you were being a brat, but you were too desperate to care.

“I know, but I already told you-”

“I don’t care that you don’t have a condom,” you sighed. “Just go without.”

Seungcheol blinked at you in surprise. “Wha- are you sure?”

In all the time that you had been dating, you and Seungcheol had never had sex without protection. It wasn’t that you were opposed to the idea, you were on the pill, but you had always been overly cautious and you and Seungcheol had never really… talked about it before.

“Y/n?” You had fallen silent.

“Hm?”

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

You could only nod at first before you could verbalize.

“I need to hear you say it,” he murmured, voice an octave lower than it had been a second ago.

“I’m sure,” you managed, “please, Cheol.”

He smirked, biting his lip. “Of course, baby.”

You pushed yourself off of him and watched as he unfastened his belt. Your mouth watered as he pulled at the button and zipper on his jeans and you thought for a brief moment about how pathetic you were.

But as soon as Seuncheol had freed himself from his pants you found yourself not caring anymore. The humiliation burning in your cheeks melted back into want and you felt the temperature in your whole body rise a degree or two.

Seungcheol pushed his jeans down to where they sat bunched around his thighs and looked at you expectantly.

“Ready, angel?” he asked, dark eyes giving you a onceover.

It wasn’t often that you were the one fully clothed and Seungcheol was the one exposed to you, but on the rare occasion it did happen you liked to take advantage of it.

“Wait, can I?” Your gaze fell to his lap and he cursed.

“Always.”

You smiled and licked your lips as you bent over to take him into your mouth. Seungcheol wasn’t the biggest you’d ever had, but his cock was still able to hit the back of your throat, which you loved. You suppressed your gag reflex as best you could while you sucked him off, feeling the arousal simmering in your stomach multiply tenfold just because of how full your mouth was. He brought a fist to his lips and bit down on his hand to stifle his moans, tangling his other hand in your hair.

He twirled your hair around his fingers into a makeshift ponytail and tugged gently. You moaned around his cock and took him even deeper so that the tip of your nose was pressed against his pelvis.

“God, y/n,” Seungcheol groaned, bucking his hips upwards into your mouth. “Sorry,” he grunted.

“S’okay,” you said with a smile, still somehow managing to keep your pace.

“So desperate for my cock, you’d take it any way you can get it, huh?”

You whined in response and nodded your head. You heard him laugh, then choke when you pulled off of him. He scowled at you as you licked a stripe from the base of his cock, along the vein, to the head, before taking him fully in your mouth again, making him throw his head back in pleasure.

“Stop, stop, I’m close,” he warned and pulled you off his cock by your hair.

If you weren’t so intent on having him inside you you would’ve finished him off there. He looked so hot like that- jaw clenched with restraint, stomach taught and firm, even under his shirt. And the way he looked down at you while you sucked his dick, fuck.

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and leaned in to kiss your boyfriend on the lips. He met you halfway and pressed his lips to yours, smiling into the kiss. The taste of champagne lingered on his lips.

“C’mon, baby,” Seungcheol grunted and motioned for you to climb on top of him.

You did just that and hiked your skirt higher up on your thighs, pushing your panties to the side so that he could have easy access to you.

You reached for him and used your knees to brace yourself on the counter before he held out a hand to stop you.

“Wait,” he said breathlessly, “let me taste you first.”

You watched as reached a hand under your skirt and used two of his fingers to collect your arousal before bringing them to his lips and sucking it off. When he was satisfied with his work he offered the same two fingers to you.

“Open,” he instructed.

You sucked his fingers into your mouth as he’d asked and moaned around them, which might have been a little over the top, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. Seungcheol retracted his fingers after a couple seconds and kissed you again, cupping your face with both of his hands. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, groaning when you whimpered. You could taste yourselves on each other’s lips, but as you continued to make out they became indiscernible, a mix of both of you. All you knew was that you couldn’t get enough.

Seungcheol struggled to pop the first few buttons on your shirt, but eventually got the hang of it, and unbuttoned the rest with ease, exposing your chest to the cold air.

“Fuck, I’ll never get tired of your tits,” he whispered, mostly to himself.

You rolled your eyes and pushed his shoulder lightly. “Cheol, stop teasing me,” you begged.

Your entire body ached. You were clenching around nothing at this point and it was torture. You needed something inside of you right that minute and if Seungcheol wouldn’t give it to you your own fingers would have to suffice.

“I’m not teasing you,” he insisted earnestly.

“Then fuck me already!”

He smirked for what felt like the millionth time and raised an eyebrow.

“You’re going to have to keep your voice down if you don’t want us to get caught, darling. Do you think you can do that?”

You nodded fervently, knowing it was a boldfaced lie. Seungcheol knew it too- you had literally just been yelling at him to fuck you seconds earlier, but you were already this far and he’d made you wait so long already.

“C’mere,” he said lowly and put a hand on the small of your back to pull you closer. “Spit,” he commanded and held out his hand for you. You spat into his palm and watched as he used his hand to pump his cock a couple of times, ensuring that it was lubricated enough for you to take comfortably.

He then lined himself up with you and held back a groan as you sank down onto his cock. You sighed in relief at the feeling and wrapped your arms around his neck to steady yourself. You stayed there like that for a minute or so, not moving, just enjoying how full you felt.

Seungchel always felt good inside of you, but like this… without discomfort of the condom, without the resistance of the rubber or the texture of the latex, without anything in between you… it was indescribable. You could feel every vein, every curve of Cheol’s cock. You could feel his pulse in your pussy and the sensation was enough to make you forget how to speak.

“G-god,” you gasped.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Seungcheol muttered through clenched teeth.

“Feels so good,” you mumbled.

Seungcheol managed a smile and brushed your hair out of your face. His smile faltered when you began to ride him without warning and he choked out your name along with a string of profanities.

You rocked your hips forward to meet Cheol’s over and over again, moaning quietly every time the head of his cock brushed your g-spot. It wasn’t long before Seungcheol was doing most of the work, slamming into you like his life depended on it. It was actually impressive, how hard he was fucking you in the position he was in. He was sitting upright with all of your weight on top of him and was still railing you like it was nothing.

“Is this what you wanted?” Seungcheol asked, voice low and gravelly. “For me to fuck you like a slut?” You could only nod. “Answer me,” he demanded. “Are you such a desperate fucking cockslut that you couldn’t wait a few more hours like a good girl?”

“Yes!” you cried.

Seungcheol brought a hand to your throat and wrapped his fingers around it, rubbing his thumb along your pulsepoint. He squeezed lightly, smiling darkly when your eyes rolled back in pleasure.

“Do you think you deserve to cum?” he asked, knowing you were close.

“Yes,” you whimpered.

“Do you think you can be quiet?”

“Yes. Please, Cheol-”

“Please what?”

“Please can I cum? I-I need to cum, fuck!”

You fell over the edge before your boyfriend could respond, not even allowing him the chance to get a word in before your entire body was overcome by waves of pleasure. Your vision went white as you rode out your orgasm and Seungcheol held onto you tightly the whole time, whispering praises in your ear as you came down even though you knew you were in for it later.

Your thighs were still trembling when the aftershocks had finally subsided and you gave Seungcheol a sheepish smile.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, baby,” he assured you. “I made you wait long enough.”

“You were teasing me! I knew it!”

He kissed you chastely on the lips and winked. “Couldn’t resist. You’re so fucking hot when you’re desperate.”

“Fuck you.”

“You already did.”

“And if I remember correctly, you haven’t come yet. I could always leave you hanging-”

“No! No, I’m sorry,” he apologized hastily.

You laughed and pushed his curls out of his face as you began to ride him again, ignoring your own arousal still burning in your stomach. Seungcheol cursed, letting you know that he was right there on the edge.

“Where do you want me to cum? Your mouth? Your chest?” You didn’t answer and leaned down to kiss his neck instead. “Baby, I can’t,” he rasped, “I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that.”

“I want you to,” you whispered.

“What?”

“I want you to cum inside me, Cheol. Want you to fill me up-” your pleas were cut off with a moan as Seungcheol came and you felt him tense underneath you as spurt after spurt of cum filled your cunt. If you thought you had felt full before-

You threw your head back at the feeling and helped your boyfriend ride out his high. It wasn’t enough to make you cum a second time, but the way his cock throbbed inside of you, the way he clenched his jaw and bit his lip as he came… it certainly… sparked something within you.

Seungcheol was out of breath by the time he could open his eyes again and when he did he smiled at you from underneath messy hair and hooded eyelids, completely blissed out. He pulled out of you slowly, watching his cum drip out of you and onto the counter.

He turned around and snatched a few paper towels from the dispenser on the opposite wall and handed half the stack to you while he used the other half to wipe down the counter.

“What a gentleman,” you said sarcastically as you used the towels to clean yourself off. You knew when you stood up there would likely be more dripping down your legs, and that was if you could stand, but you would have to cross that bridge when you got to it.

“And they say romance is dead,” he quipped back cheekily, holding his hand out for your half of the used paper towels.

“Can’t imagine why.”

You watched from the counter as he threw them away and washed his hands. He pulled a couple more paper towels from the dispenser and wet them in the sink before making his way back over to you and just tossing them between your open legs.

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

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[wildfire317s-oc-box]

Demon slayer headcannon/theory:

So this is a theory that involves Rui and certain habits of his:

I have a theory that being a Spider demon specifically effected Rui (and naturally the rest of the spider fam) quite a bit. Now that is already pretty obvious but I mean effected him more than is plainly shown. So it seems to be pretty obvious that Rui does not like loud noises and sure one could chalk that up to him being a demon and having more sensitive ears but looking at all the other demons shown so far the only other demon that is anywhere close to being that annoyed by loud noises is Kyogai who being a writer and an introvert prefers things to be quieter but even he doesn't get annoyed to the point of straight up attacking whatever is being loud (i feel like if tanjiro had been quieter rui would have been a lot less annoyed and maybe more reasonable). Changing lanes here for a bit but stick with me because these are connected. Rui also has a pretty broad attack range or an A.O.E (area of effect) if you will and his attacks tend to go in a sweeping motion even his "murderous eye basket" attack is pretty broad starting out as a large dome and steadily getting smaller until inevitably (unless the threads are cut) whoever is trapped inside is cut to pieces. Also similar to Kyogai whose main attack is a sweeping claw attack. Now you may be wondering "Wildfire whats the connection there?" Well lemme tell ya; Both Kyogai and Rui have bad vision but for different reasons (kyogai's being better than rui's) Kyogai has bad vision because he keeps his eyes rolled about 160-170 degrees backwards most of the time, Rui however has bad vision because he is a Spider demon and actual spiders are near-sighted to the point where they have to rely very heavily on their other four senses, movement and temperature sense as well for most things, which mean that his ears are even more sensitive than the majority of other demons. Which is why whenever Rui was fighting Tanjiro he only attacked with his actual limbs when Tanjiro was within a certain distance because thats when he could actually see what he was doing well enough to know that he wouldn't miss. This is also why he didn't really attack when Tanjiro was not moving and instead taunted him to try to get him to move so he could see or feel the vibrations of where he was. This could also explain why when he cut his own head off with his threads and when he was fading away respectively he had his hands out infront of him, because at the distance his head was from his body he couldn't really see where his body was going and had to feel for vibrations instead. This could also explain how he knew that Nezuko had passed out without even looking at her, because she wasn't moving around anymore and thus not causing his threads to vibrate. This is also how he could tell where that other slayer that tried to sneak up on him thinking he was an easy kill was before he ever started talking because of the temperature sense and while he could have been mistaken for some human sized critter, he decided to open his big mouth and after that he was screwed. Now you may be wondering "Wait if he has more sensitive senses than other demons why wasn't he distracted by the spider father's scent like tanjiro was" well since he lives with the rest of the spider family he and the rest of them got used to each-others scents so that was part of the "home-court advantage" and made the slayers scents more obvious and made it easier for them to guesstimate how many slayers were left because in theory every-time a slayer got either wrapped up and liquified, tangled or turned into minions they got covered in the spider scent, however since Rui was already pissed off and distracted by Tanjiro, Giyuu went unnoticed until it was pretty much to late. Also depending on what type of spider Rui inadvertently based himself on, his looking at the moon may or may not have been his way of giving himself a form of dark/night-vision.

[vocalyunho]

fire within.

pairing — San x reader (f).

genre — fluff, smut (first time).

word count — 3k

warnings & tags — established relationship, reader is a virgin, San isn’t, a lot of making out, some parts are hella cheesy (sorry), San has a vertical labret piercing and a habit of holding reader’s neck while kissing, grinding, San gets hard just by kissing uwu, handjob (not really), spanking (?), sub! reader, soft dom! San, brief mention of blood, explicit protected sex (positions: missionary & face off), you have every right to criticise me for failing to put an actual plot in this, i deserve it.

synopsis — y/n had never imagined she’d lose her virginity on a snowy night, right next to the fireplace.

The snow had covered the city like a white silky veil. It was freezing cold, the degrees certainly being under zero and the streets were all empty. In contrast to the real temperature, seeing such view made y/n feel so warm inside...or maybe it was the fireplace that burnt for a couple hours now, that made her feel this warmth. 

It was the first time, since the moment she rented this apartment, that she actually felt good for it being on such a high floor. The view of the snow-covered city looked like a picture taken by a talented photographer and not by her own two eyes. 

San was outstretched on the bed next to the big window, limbs covering more than half of the double mattress, and his head was tilted to the side to look at the darkness outside that got dissipated by thick snowflakes that had started falling again. 

San and y/n don’t live together but he got snowbound in her apartment since last night when the heavy snow-falling started. Everything has been immobile since then, no one can ride their cars and the public transportation has stopped too, that’s why San didn’t leave but, to be honest, he didn’t complain and neither did y/n.

The oversized hoodie he was wearing covered his body till his thighs, hiding the black boxers and making him look more comfortable than ever. y/n was lying on her stomach next to him, her head was resting on his outstretched arm, and she was looking outside just like he did. 

Suddenly, she propped herself on her elbows to take a look at the street, and when San felt the movement beside him, he turned to face her. She stretched her neck and squinted her eyes.

“what is it?”, San asked.

“someone’s walking down there”, she stated and he only let out a snort at her comment.

“and what if they do?”

“they’re gonna catch a cold if they stay outside for long”

She stated, as if it was a fact, and San let out a louder laugh this time, finding both funny and heart-warming how much y/n worried about a random stranger’s health. He stayed looking at her as she stared at the person who was probably just taking a healing walk on the snow, until a gentle hand got wrapped around her neck. He moved it upwards, on her jaw, and ran his index finger across her lower lip “some people like the snow, you know”.

“says you...who begged me to light the fireplace so you can stay in your underwear”, she rolled her eyes. 

San gasped, acting offended by the talk back, and y/n snickered. He held himself up on his elbows, meeting her face.

“come on, i’m waiting for a good one”

She commented cheekily but as much as San tried to think of a good comeback, the sight of her mocking smile got the best of him. The metal bar on his lower lip got between his teeth in an attempt to hold back any urges he had to kiss her... but the corners of his mouth curled up when she cocked a brow at him and a second later, his lips were on hers. y/n was more than glad he couldn’t think of anything good to talk back with because she really needed this softness against her.

She kissed him back gently and if it wasn’t for her trying to part, San wouldn’t have placed his hand around her throat again. She couldn’t lie, she lost her mind every time he did that and that’s exactly what happened now too. He kept her in place before lying down and bringing her with him. y/n simply held herself up on her elbows before bringing one hand up to the pink hair and tangling it in between the locks. They kissed slowly, San’s hand remaining around her throat and occasionally moving her head the way he wanted, and when he slightly added pressure on his hold, her eyes fluttered the most pleasurable way possible.

“so?”, y/n finally broke the kiss. San let go of her and ran a hand through his hair, sliding back the hot pink locks on his forehead, before speaking up.

“i’m kinda slow, i need more time to think”

“...right”

“if you kiss me again, I might think of something”, he said, his expression taking a skeptical turn and making a dimple appear on his cheek.

“your flirting skills are so bad, how did i even fall for you?”, y/n tsk-ed.

“you actually fell for my piercing, not me”

“you...did not lie”

“that’s why i’m putting it to good use”

San puckered up his lips, displaying the -so attractive- piercing and y/n only meant to peck it but, a moment later, she was found on top of him with a single push on her side. She didn’t hesitate to straddle his waist comfortably and once he deepened the kiss, the cute make out took a completely different turn.

His arms traveled southern until he groped her ass and squeezed it nonchalantly. As much as this surprised her, double the amount she liked it because he’s never touched her like that. San kneaded the soft flesh, occasionally pulling it so much that it stung, but she didn’t mind it, she actually liked that more. 

Her tongue dominated his and the more she guided him, the more bothered San was getting until she felt it. 

“are you hard just by kissing?”, she asked not, actually, breaking the kiss.

“yeah”

“that’s cute” 

Since she, now, was aware of it, San didn’t hesitate to guide her hips against his crotch. He grinded her on him and y/n could feel nothing but his hard on even above the warm hoodie.

Her hands moved downwards and to the hem of the oversized clothing San was wearing and with slow hands she gripped it, subconsciously using it as support, and started grinding her crotch against his without San’s help. 

He moaned against her lips and y/n decided, at that moment, that his moans were turning her on more than any other sound he’s ever made while making out.

As if he wanted her to know that he liked where this was going, San slipped his hands under the shorts she had on and squeezed her now bare ass in his hands, definitely leaving his nail marks on it. She let her first moan out at that, only for San to let a low ‘fuck’ fan her lips. Her mouth found his neck and as San played with the soft flesh, she left wet kisses on him, occasionally biting down when she needed to hold back a moan. 

At some point, San’s left hand pushed her hips up making them both lose the friction they had created. y/n whined but didn’t separate from his neck. He pushed his hoodie up, till his belly button, and the boxers down, enough to let his hard on out and with a slow hand he grabbed it. With her knees pushing on the mattress, y/n held herself above his body. San pumped himself for a moment before pressing two fingers against her clothed core, making her widen her eyes and bring her head up to face him. 

She hadn’t noticed what was going on down there, until his fingers left the sensitive area between her legs and went to his dick. That’s when she glanced between their bodies, only to see San’s hand wrapped around his length, moving up and down gently. 

She had never seen his lower half naked before, let alone his dick being hard. Her lips fell agape and she raised her body to get a better view. She thought it twice before deciding to reach for it and San took his own hand away. He couldn’t believe the effect a single touch had on him, it felt like he needed instant release when he felt her hand on his tip. 

It was rather cute seeing her experimenting with her touches, finding out how an erection feels like. She wrapped her hand around the upper part and it was more than obvious how small it looked around him. She squeezed it a little and San’s breath got caught in his throat. 

“San-”, she caressed the soft skin on the tip “i have some condoms on the nightstand”, she said and moved to sit between his legs.

San didn’t expect to hear that but he definitely loved the way it sounded.

“want me to make you feel good, baby?”

y/n nodded and he sat up. He took her cheeks in his hands and pecked her before switching their positions, making her lay down on her back.

As soon as she was against the warm mattress, the eagerness took over her and so she reached for the shorts and slid them off along with her underwear, fast. She tagged on San’s hoodie, making him take it off and, now, the only remaining piece of clothing between their bodies was her sweater which was taken off too with a single nod from San.

Being bare under him was new but not that uncomfortable. Maybe the reason why she didn’t feel bad was because he glanced on her nude form and licked his lips or because he remained hard. Deep down though, she knew she didn’t feel uncomfortable because she was sure about him.

He licked two fingers and as if y/n knew, she pushed her legs open displaying where she needed San to make her feel good. 

“i didn’t think you’d be so straightforward on your first time baby but i’m loving it”

He pressed the digits on her clit and her knees, immediately, trembled but he kept dragging them down, over her folds until he stopped on the most glistening area. 

“you’re so wet”

...and the moment he said that, y/n momentarily pictured him slipping in and out of her with zero effort. She sighed and closed her eyes all the while her legs trapped San’s hand between them. 

He pushed them open fast and placed his right knee on one of them, to keep it from closing.

“don’t do that again”, a slap landed on her clit. y/n gasped, the feeling was so new and so overwhelming already...if that felt so good, how was she supposed to act once he was inside her? 

“oh-ohmygod”

Her fingers found her breast and started playing with her nipple, making the stimulation even sweeter and San...he wanted to push her hand away but the scene brought him thoughts he had never had before...the idea of her moaning for him, the idea of her feeling good because of him and, especially, the brief thought of her touching herself to the thought of him, like he had before, got him insane.

“I need you, San-”, she suddenly whined, breaking his train of thought.

“gotta make sure you’re ready, baby”

“i am...pplease”

His next ministration got her eyes rolling back and they hadn’t even done anything proper yet. San held her legs down and brought his face against her core. He gave a quick suck on her clit, humming as he did so, and left her bothered to get the so needed condom.

The cold metal against her pussy had her in shambles. Her body had given up already and when San was back between her legs, the sudden realisation that she was about to lose her virginity hit her like a truck. She was so worked up though and so in need to have him, that her mind was only filled with nothing but the upcoming pleasure.

His body was above her when he positioned himself on her entrance and y/n stuck her knees on the mattress as much as possible when she felt him dragging his tip along the folds. She sighed once again and tried to relax her muscles and San was met with a squeal when he pushed his tip in. 

y/n panicked. The pain was more than what she had expected and the feeling way too uncomfortable but San held her down. 

“it’s okay”, he whispered and kept pushing ever so slowly. Her walls were way too tight around him, it almost felt like she sucked him in but held his sounds back just for now.

“h-hurts”

“only for a bit”

He glanced down when he was halfway in and withdrew even slower, momentarily noticing a minimum amount of blood around his condom. 

“we just broke your hymen, angel”, he looked at her.

y/n’s eyes were on his but it felt like she didn’t hear a word. Thus, San pushed in and pulled out again and again and again just as slow as the first time and it must had been the fifth or sixth thrust when she, finally, moaned.

“that’s right baby, it feels good now right?”

“San-”

He kept being careful, thrusting only halfway in until her arms went around his neck and on his hair. She kept him close and wiggled her hips once he was inside her and San hissed.

“you got confident so fast?”, he groaned and y/n pouted.

“more”

“more?”

He felt his body relaxing, now that she seemed to enjoy it “are you sure?”

“i want all of you”

He granted her wish with a single thrust and he loved her reaction more than he’s ever loved anything. Agape lips, raised brows, hands pulling on his locks, that’s what he needed to let himself free. He thrusted faster and y/n lost her mind. 

“San!”

She sucked him in like she needed him the most. She felt him in places foreign to her and she couldn’t control her sounds anymore, even if she tried.

The snow was falling in bigger snowflakes now but they hadn’t noticed, and the degrees outside decreased even more, contrasting the hotness of the inside of the apartment which had reached a different extent. 

y/n was wetter than before and the momentary fantasy she had a while ago, was slowly coming into life. San was snapping his hips against hers with little, if not zero, effort and the sounds her pussy produced got her flustered. The ardor she felt, though, for more didn’t give her the time to feel embarrassed. 

“ohmygodd-”, she writhed spreading her legs without much thought now “harder”.

Her nails pulled his hair violently when he snapped his hips faster and as if it wasn’t even her first time having a dick inside her, she took it well. 

Suddenly, San wrapped his arms around her waist and brought her on his lap as he sat on his heels on the bed. 

She went dizzy but when she felt what was happening her needy cries were back, louder and more pathetic. San bounced her on his dick. She held on him for dear life, he groaned against her lips non-stop both from the pleasure and the effort and his hold on her back was too tight but she couldn’t notice as her mind was everywhere but her head... and as their breaths resounded in the small apartment and the fire kept burning on the fireside, the two fucked for the first time as if it wasn’t the first time. 

If someone was to walk into this exact apartment, the first thing they’d see once inside is a young couple making love with the whole dark, yet white-covered, city as their background. The lights on, almost, all apartments on the neighboring buildings were on...their owners doing all sorts of things, from watching tv to working on their laptops, as the weather outside their cozy homes was getting colder and colder. The owner of this one just lost her virginity to the person she wanted the most and she did it on her favourite weather just next to the warmth of the fireplace.

y/n captured San’s lips in a messy kiss, spit and moans being its main contents. She took his piercing between her teeth but he didn’t let her stay to that. A moan filled her mouth before his lips got the best of hers, the metallic sound of the labret hitting their teeth was loud but so was the slapping of her ass against his thighs. Her insides felt like exploding from the way she was repeatedly getting penetrated and San felt almost the same, the only difference being that he felt like exploding from the pressure she offered him.

She suddenly felt an immense amount of pleasure building up and taking over her entire upper body “g-god yesyesyes”, she cried in every bounce.

“-gonna cum, baby”

San mumbled breathless but y/n was too lost in the overwhelming senses of her first orgasm to even respond to him. She stilled, cries getting the best of her, and as he thrusted a couple more times, her silky release covered the entirety of his condom. 

San’s quick spurts got stopped by the thin silicon around him and, as he came, needy moans left him, moans that got mixed with low curses and his tired head resting on her shoulder. 

They breathed loudly, chests heaving and bodies sticking from the sweat. He felt so good inside her, almost as if he belonged there but after some moments, the feeling of her own silk staying inside her felt weird. 

However, y/n cupped San’s jaw and lifted his head from her shoulder. She took the time to observe the, now wet, hair and the drowsy eyes and she didn’t fail to feel his arms holding her back tighter, yet more lovingly now.

“I can assure you I didn’t fall just for your piercing”.

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[lucemferto]

recently i saw someone say that new lmanberg vs. technoblade was the A plot of season two, and tommy’s exile with dream was supposed to be the B plot, but it wasn’t properly executed (no pun intended).

what are your thoughts on this? and if you agree, what are ways you would change season two to properly focus on the A plot more?

This is a very interesting ask and a very interesting thing to think about in general!

I think, first of all, it’s fair to assume that the content creators did not approach Season 2 with an A-plot/B-plot/C-plot model in mind. As something that’s (at least partly) improvised, I imagine it’s hard to make such distinctions in advance – especially as the different storylines are sometimes or often times streamed concurrently.

That being said, unintentionally or not, some storyline gets more weight and more development than others and becomes storylines that the majority of the audience would consider “main plots”.

What’s interesting about the comparison between the Exile-plotline on the one hand and the Butcher Army-plotline – and I think what is meant to be expressed by the “A-plot/B-plot” categorization in this context – is that the Exile-Arc is solely character-focused, while the Butcher Army-plotline is more in line with how Wilbur wrote Season 1 – as in having both movement in terms of character arcs as well as big, server-wide plot points.

Exile is really the outlier, as it’s – by design – isolated from the rest of the storylines by an unprecedented degree. For the majority of the time, it’s just the Tommy-Dream-Abuse hour. Barely any other characters. No L’Manburg. No big political moves.

Even Wilbur’s descent in Pogtopia was very much tied to what was going on on a macrolevel in the world (Schlatt’s presidency, Techno’s involvement in the rebellion, Fundy’s and Tubbo’s spy-arcs, etc.)

By that virtue – and considering the medium and how that affects things* – the Butcher Army-storyline would certainly fit the idea of an “A-plot” more. This is where the big server changes happen, this is where the ideologies clash, where the fate of nations is decided.

The problem in that regard is twofold:

Number 1: This supposed “A-plot” is not getting enough screentime and – more important – not enough “dramatic movement”.

Tubbo, Phil and Techno are streaming at least semi-regularly, but no major or minor tension is every really developed. It all remains rather static.

New L’Manburg itself is barely, if at all developed. Which is bad, seeing as the climax of Techno’s arc revolves around L’Manburg and the whole political and thematic argument is all tangled up around L’Manburg and Tubbo’s presidency (and Quackity’s vice-presidency). The Butcher Army itself is barely developed outside of some propaganda posters.

And all the while, Tommy and Dream are streaming every day – and not just that, they’re being dynamic! They tell a story that has an arc, that has ups and downs!

They, proverbially, hog all the screentime – and that in medium where you have basically unlimited screentime. That’s impressive. But in this case also not … uh, ideal.

Number 2 is really more of a problem if you strictly consider the Season as it’s designated by the content creators.

Just structurally, the Season starts with conflict centred around Tommy, then the most prominent subplot of the first half of the Season is – AGAIN – centred around Tommy, and then Tommy teams up with Technoblade and becomes part of that subplot (with Doomsday making the Tommy-Techno-fallout front and centre of the event) and the Season-finale is AGAIN pretty much solely focused on Tommy and Dream (and Tubbo).

As a character, Tommy dominates the entire Season not just in terms of “screentime” but also just with often he is at the centre of the major tension. The Butcher Army-storyline never really gets the chance of becoming the “A-plot”, because even Hog Hunt – the only event that’s pretty much solely focused on that storyline as a major tension – has a Tommy-appearance in it.

If we wanted to make the Butcher Army-plot the “A-plot” bringing Tommy into the fray was not a good move. Especially with how much the two subsequent events building off of Hog Hunt – the Green Festival and Doomsday – focus on Tommy’s personal conflict and make HIM central to Technoblade’s conflict.

Neither Tubbo nor Quackity really have much to do with Technoblade after Hog Hunt, even though their ostensibly his antagonists. That would have to change in order to make the Butcher Army-storyline are more “standalone” A-Plot

*In traditional media, Tommy’s plot could easily be the A-plot if the author decides to intentionally set this very intimate personal story against the background of some big world-changing events. But on the Dream SMP, there are rarely outright background characters – at least intentionally – and especially not fan-favourites Tubbo and Technoblade. So this path … I mean, everything can work, but it would very intentionally subvert the way the medium had been used thus far.

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Their Doll 4

Y/n Stark

B.Barnes x Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

series synopsis:  y/n Stark, all records of her non existent, and yet Hydra still find her. When she is kidnapped by a certain super-soldier and no one believes her, she finds herself searching for unexpected familiarity in her not-so-distant past.

Series Warnings: smut, violence, torture, swearing

Chapter Summary: the avengers find some stuff out about y/n

Warnings: swearing

A/n: The timeline in this has been altered, as there I things I wanted to include but I also wanted this fic to follow the storyline/timeline of Winter Soldier and Civil war.So for purposes of this fanfic, Peter Parker was discovered by Tony at a much younger age - when he was bitten - and has been an intern with him since, almost like a protégée.(For the purposes of this story Peter was bitten much younger too - more like when he was 9 or ten rather than 14/15)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

"SO there's some weird HYDRA girl locked and sedated in my basement? Cool, don't want to know." Tony dismissed, not looking up from his white mug as he tipped a generous amping of sugar into his black coffee. He swirled the liquid in the mug and turned around, leaning against the counter as he raised the drink to lips lips and took a sip before sighing intently. Bruce frowned, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Tony, I don't think you get it, I ran a DNA test and-"

"And she's probably some innocent girl that went missing years ago and was never found? I get it, I feel bad for her but at the end of the day she has nothing to do with me." Tony dismissed, pushing away from the counted to deposit his now-empty mug in the sink. He turned the tap on, rinsing out the cup before carelessly placing it on the drying rack.

"Just, please, come and see her. You won't regret it, and if you do - dinner's on me?" Bruce suggest, arms outstretched in welcome. Tony rolled his eyes, before scoffing.

"Yeah, no. I'm good. Catch you in the lab later though?" Tony was quick to deflect, exiting the room with so much as another glance. Bruce's hands feel to his side with a slap as his shoulders sagged in defeat.

...

Bruce nervously paced the lab, desperate to tell someone his horrifying discovery. The click of the door made his head snap up, a smile of relief spreading his on lips at the sight of Nat.

"Nat, finally." He sighed, walking towards the scowling girl.

"What did you need to tell me Bruce? You sounded pretty urgent when you called." She pressed, crossing her arms over her chest and raising a brow. His smile faulted, his gaze dropping to his hands where he fondled with a biro pen.

"I- uh. I made a... discovery about y/n." Bruce confessed, finally meeting Nat's eyes.

"Go on.." Nat prompted. Bruce took a deep breath, chewing on his bottom lip nervously. "Bruce-" she started.

"Y/n isn't entirely human-"

"Well we knew that much."

"It's what she is, that's shocking. Looking threw all her blood tests and whatnot - it's showing she has an ability to manipulate minds when she s-sings. It's like a certain note her voice forms that can control the minds of people around her."

"So what is she?"

"I don't know, there's not really a name-"

"A siren. She's a siren." A third voice joined the room, and both the avengers' heads snapped round to the direction it came from. In the door stood Steve, shoulder leant against the frame and ankles crossed.

"Who's watching y/n?" Nat asked.

"Clint. Anyway, my father - he used to read me a story when I was a kid. The Odyssey, I believe it was called. It was a Greek myth about a bewitching girl who lured saloons in with her voice so she could feed off them." Steve continued, pushing himself off the door frame and walking further into the room.

"There's no way that's real, though." Nat dismissed, frowning heavily at his words.

"No, no. He has a point - I mean, look at Steve. Look at me." Bruce said, gesturing to himself and Steve. "We shouldn't be possible, but science does some crazy things. Y/n was with HYDRA, right?"

"Yes, but-"

"Well, what if they did this to her. We know she was taken when she was young, so what if they did so to experiment on her?"

"I should go talk to her, you know - girl on girl. She seems to like me, maybe she knows what she is and she might open up to me, if I ask nicely." Nat suggests, walking out the room when she was met with no protests from the two men.

"There's something else I should mention." Bruce started fidgeting again, which man Steve's brown knit together.

"What is it, Bruce?" The super-soldier prompted. Bruce continued to fidget, not looking up from him hands as he spoke.

"Are you aware Tony used to have daughter?" Bruce asked sheepishly.

"Tony had a daughter?" Steve said, brows now raised with genuine shock. He knew of Tony's...escapades from before he was with Pepper, but he couldn't see Tony as the type to actually keep a child from just a one-night stand.

"She was adopted, some kid he found on the streets with no parents. So he took her in, raised her and then she just disappeared. Many people have forgotten she existed, and those that remember her are all under the impression that she is dead. I thought so too, until..." Bruce paused, flipping through some papers on his clipboard until he found what he was looking for. "Until this." He finished, handing the board over to Steve.

In Steve's hands was proof that matched y/n's DNA to that of Tony's adopted daughter.

"Well that explains the name, and her hesitation to tell us who she really is." Steve frowned, eyes scanning over the paper repeatedly. Bruce hummed in agreement, taking the clipboard back from Steve when he held it out for Bruce to take. "Do we tell Tony?" Steve asked after a moment.

"He doesn't want to know, I've tried telling him but he doesn't care." Bruce told Steve and Steve pressed his lips together as he thought. "I do think we should wake her up though. If she's Tony's daughter there can't be anything that's more dangerous about her than you expect her attitude." Bruce said and Steve nodded, suppressing a laugh.

"I'll tell Nat to wake her up." Steve said as he exited the lab.

...

The steam from the shower engulfed me, my hands running through my hair and brushing out the tangles lightly. As I scrubbed the shampoo from my scalp, I hummed a small tune - thankful to be somewhere noisy enough that I wouldn't risk affecting anyone with my powers. After waking me up Nat told me to clean up and get changed before handing me a pile of clothes and telling me that she would meet me at my room in half an hour to take me to meet the rest of the team.

Shutting the water off, I slid the glass door open and my feet padded onto the thin bath-mat. The towel wrapped around me as I patted my hair dry with another one, looking over my scarred figure in the large mirror opposite me.

A large scar spanned the width of my stomach, smaller remnants of cuts littering my thighs that were joined by one larger one from where I was once stabbed. Looking at myself over my shoulder, I observed the large scars that spanned over my back, the layers fading at different degrees from their varying ages. The memory of how I got them brought tears to my eyes, which I was quick to blink away and focus back onto what I was doing.

Pulling the large sweatshirt Steve had lent me over my head, I left the large bathroom clad in a pair of leggings and some socks I borrowed from Nat. I brushed my fingers through my wet locks, detangling them. I threw the towel onto the bed in the room I had been assigned and plopped down next to it, taking my time to survey the room I barely got a look of earlier.

The door to the en-suite bathroom I just exited sat on one side of the room, accompanied by a big closet and a dressing table. A chest of draws was propped next to the king sized bed the sat in and the free corner housed a small kitchen. It had a stove, fridge-freezer, sink and a few cabinets. On the side sat a kettle, toaster, blender and some chopping boards.

A sharp knock on the door bought me back to my senses, making me perk up a little at the sound of Nat's voice.

"You feeling okay?" I nodded. "Good, well Steve and Bruce want you to meet them in conference room 4. I'll take you." She quickly added the last part in seeing my scared face.

As we walked down the halls we chatted, talking about our pasts and finding out that we were fairly similar - we were both forced into the bad things we did, we both found a way to redeem ourselves, neither of us have ever had a boyfriend and we both love chicken noodle soup.

"Well, this is it." She announced, pointing at a door to our left. I nodded, going to open the door before pausing and turning around.

"Thank you. For taking me with you, for giving me this chance, for hiding me from HYDRA - thank you, really." I spoke softly, giving her the friendliest smile I could muster.

"No problem. I couldn't live with myself if I knew we could've helped you. Everyone deserves a second chance."

"I genuinely can't thank you enough - you saved me." I said, quickly swiping away the threatening tears with the heels of my hands.

"I was nice meeting you, y/n."

"You too." And with the last words said, I pushed the door open, walking into the room and being instantly greeted by Bruce and Steve.

"Hey, y/n, why don't you take a seat and we'll get the introductions out the way?" Bruce suggested and I nodded shyly. I took a seat next to Steve, who appeared to shuffle slightly away from me but I couldn't be sure.

"So, another midgardian?" a bulky man with shoulder length blonde hair and a red cape clipped to his shoulders broke the silence. He was clearly the God I'd been hearing about - I mean how much more of a costume does he need to look like Thor?

"Yes, we think so." Bruce confirmed. I frowned at this. Midgardian? What the hell was a midgardian?

"We think she's been tampered with, like me," Steve elaborated, "but as far as we know, she is of this earth." Steve spoke and Thor nodded. "We are keeping her safe from HYDRA." Steve said to break the silence as they all stared at me with funny looks. I kept my eyes cast down now, cheeks hot with embarrassment after feeling so many eyes on me at once.

"Does she-" I interjected the second I heard another voice. I stood abruptly, pushing me seat back and wincing at the screeching noise it made before resuming my angry face. I slammed my hand down the table as I stood, catching the attention of everyone sat at the table.

"If even one more of you refers to me as 'she' rather than just fucking talking directly to me I am going to end up sirening one of your asses!" I demanded, seething with anger. A grin broke out on Thor's face.

"Atta girl, I like this one already!" He laughed and I sat down again, smiling contented ay his compliment.

"She's got Tony's patience, all right." Another man remarked with a smirk. Steve simply rolled his eyes as common menus about my attitude were thrown around the room. Finally, someone addressed me. It was a woman with Blonde hair and kind eyes. She looked motherly.

"Hey, I'm pepper." She smiled kindly and I quickly reciprocated it. They went around the table - the man who had commented about my patience was called Clint, the blonde man was was indeed called Thor and obviously I'd already met Bruce and Steve.

"I'm y/n." I returned and she repeated my name in her beautiful voice, almost as if she was testing how I'd felt in her mouth.

"Y/n. A stunning name for a stunning lady." Thor commented, boyish grin still in place and I gave him a sheepish smile.

"Oh, cut it out big guy - you're like, a billion times her age." A voice came from the door and we all turned to find out who it was.

"Tony. I wasn't aware you'd be joining us." Steve said in a monotone voice and Tony gave him a tight smile.

"You don't get everything your way, Capsicle. Now, who's this?" Tony said, stuffing a mouthful of blueberries in his mouth before stuffing the bag of food in his back pocket and motioning to me with a nod.

"Tony, this is y/n," Bruce said moving out the way from where he was standing so Tony could see my face. The man's eyes widened instantly as the recognition sank in. "Y/n Stark."

[chockfullofsecrets]

D20 Fantasy High: Making Room

(Read on AO3)

Rating: Gen

Summary: She grunts, presumably shoving at him and not having much success given Fabian’s triumphant snickering. “I said make room-”

Riz pries himself up off the carpet, thinking of moving to help her, when Fabian lets out a startled squeak. Everyone goes quiet.

Fig leans off the bed with truly devilish glee in her tiefling eyes. “Guys, he’s ticklish.”

The Bad Kids try to plan a sleepover, Fabian needs to learn how to share, and Riz is maybe starting to get the hang of this whole friendship thing.

Wordcount: 2.1k

A/N: not to be entirely into D&D on main, but - hey, look, it’s another cool D&D campaign XD shoutout to @hypahticklish for expressing enough interest in this fic to make me want to write it <3

Loose spoilers for the end of Fantasy High Season 1, beware!

---

Riz thinks he’s really starting to get a handle on this whole friendship thing.

Solving a mystery and getting thrown in jail and killing a dragon together aren’t exactly reproducible results, which kind of sucks, but - hey, the six of them are friends now, and they’re hanging out in Fabian’s room on a summer evening, and it’s novel enough to feel like a solved case all on its own.

What’s less satisfying is the amount of missed work they have to catch up on if they want to start as sophomores next year; no one bothered to worry about bringing them homework while they were in actual prison, but all their professors sure seem to care about it now. He gets the feeling that at least part of it is Aguefort trying to keep some degree of respectability after everything that happened with Goldenhoard, but any attempt to reason with him thus far has gotten nowhere but wild-eyed stares and increasingly obtuse lectures on chronomancy and time management. And sure, Riz prides himself on being able to untangle obscure information, but he’s not touching that with a ten foot pole.

They’re all sprawled out on Fabian’s floor, working through assignments with varying levels of fervor ranging from Adaine - actually working with a stack of textbooks nearly up to her shoulder next to her on Fabian’s desk - to Kristen - texting Tracker with a lack of stealth that makes Riz want to grind his teeth a little, even more so than the way she goes bright red and giggles every time her crystal pings - when Fig groans and rolls onto her back.

“You know what?” she says to the room at large, throwing her arms wide. Her hand knocks into her bard notebook, somehow both dusty with disuse and covered in scribbled ballpoint pen sigils. She flips it neatly in the air and elbows it away in Adaine’s direction, earning a half-annoyed yelp. “We should have a sleepover.”

Half of them blink uncomprehendingly, but Kristen drops her crystal in a sudden rush of excitement. “YES,” she shouts. Gorgug, propped against the wall next to her and dozing off over barbarian meditation manuals, startles. “I can show you guys so many cool camp things! We just need a bunch of different colors of yarn and some sticks and - yeah, we can probably skip the holy water to keep the sinners away-”

Riz has - he’s had sleepovers before, if Penny coming over to babysit and finding him crashed out on the couch after a night of reading old case files from his mom counts. He reaches up and straightens his cap, trying to make it look smooth. “Hey, Fabian, do you have coffee here?”

“Wait, wait, hold on a minute.” Fabian, sitting against his giant bed, waves dramatically for all their attention. He looks them over once he gets it, self-importantly adjusting his eyepatch. “Yes, The Ball, we have coffee, we’re not peasants - but sleep over where? Did I miss that part?”

“Uh, here?” Fig says, flinging herself upright. “You’re mom’s super hot - uh, cool, I bet she’d let us do anything.”

“Stop calling my mom hot!” Fabian yelps, glowering for a moment before his chest puffs with familial pride. “Well, we do have at least five guest bedrooms that we could house all of you in-”

“Oh, I don’t need a bed,” Gorgug says hastily. “I’d probably break it, I can just sleep on the floor.”

“Yeah, Fabian, no,” Kristen interjects, gesturing with her staff. Gorgug scrambles to remove the cups they’ve been drinking soda out of from her path. “We’re all supposed to hang out in the same room, that’s kind of the point!” She frowns a little, zeroing in on him. “Have you. Have you never been to a sleepover before?”

Riz hasn’t quite gotten around to making a conspiracy board of how all the specific issues of their messed up childhoods overlap, but he can read the way Fabian startles indignantly loud and clear. “Of - of course I have!” he blusters. “I just - why the fuck would you share a bed if you didn’t have to?”

Adaine scoffs. “Fabian, your bed is enormous, I think we could all fit on it with room for the Hangman left over.”

“No, it’s not!” Fabian scrambles up, chin still raised haughtily, and throws himself bodily on the bed - judging from the way his ankles hang off the edge, he’s starfishing out as far as he possibly can. “I’m - see, I’m a growing boy, I need my space! Cathilda says so.”

Adaine, having claimed the only chair in the room and therefore being the only one at eye level with the mattress, cranes her neck and laughs. “Fabian, you’re covering less than half of the bed. You can just say you’ve never been to a sleepover before, you know.”

Fig stands up and launches herself onto the bed too, landing heavily with the zippers on her leather jacket clanking behind her. “Yeah, you just have to - oof - make room-”

She grunts, presumably shoving at him and not having much success given Fabian’s triumphant snickering. “I said make room-”

Riz pries himself up off the carpet, thinking of moving to help her, when Fabian lets out a startled squeak. Everyone goes quiet.

Fig leans off the bed with truly devilish glee in her tiefling eyes. “Guys, he’s ticklish.”

The room erupts into chaos - Fabian shouting denials, Fig cackling evilly, and Kristen shooting up and banging her shins against the bed before scrambling around to Fabian’s other side. Riz hops up on the desk next to Adaine just in time to watch each of the other girls seize his outstretched arms and start to mercilessly tickle his armpits.

“GAHAHA - no, no, stoHOP-” Fabian flails helplessly between the two of them, still trying to sprawl out over the bed. He manages to wrench his arm free from Fig and shove her away even as he shouts with laughter. “Seacasters are not - ahaaa, haaAA - I’m not ticklish!”

“Oh, yeah?” Kristen taunts. “Then why are you laughing, you - ohshit-”

They’re trying to wrestle him down, but he’s too strong for Fig and too dextrous for Kristen. She lunges for him, red hair flying behind her, and falls straight into his lap.

Fabian catches both of Fig’s wrists in one big hand and uses the other to poke triumphantly at Kristen’s belly, sending her into a fit of cackling giggles. “Aha!” he exclaims triumphantly, struggling into a sitting position. “A Seacaster cannot simply be rousted from his territory!”

All of them know better than to say anything about his dad by now. “Gorgug, come help us hold him down!” Fig demands instead, kicking at Fabian with her platform boots and making him yelp in pain.

Gorgug pulls his headphones all the way off his ears and straightens just enough to take in the tangle of the three of them, looking dubious. “Are you sure? That sounds kind of mean.”

“It’s not a problem if he’s not ticklish, right, Fabian?,” Fig retorts. “And he’s breaking sleepover code by hogging the bed!"

Kristen, still laughing uproariously as she fails to save herself from Fabian’s tickling fingers, somehow manages to shoot Gorgug a pair of finger guns. “Get him, Gorgug!”

Gorgug still looks a little confused - Riz can relate - but he gamely climbs to his feet. “Well, okay.”

He pauses to knock gently on the bedframe, sighing in relief at the heavy thunk that echoes back. “Oh, cool, that’s pretty strong.”

Fig yelps as Fabian lets up on Kristen and starts prodding at her belly instead. “Gorgug, come on!”

“Oh, right,” Gorgug says, and sends the mattress an entire inch to the left as he scrambles on.

“Hell yeah!” Fig cheers as Gorgug climbs on the bed and sweeps Fabian up in a restraining hug. “Sig Figs solidarity!”

Kristen squirms out from between the three of them. “Hey, I’m here too!”

She flops down with a breathy sigh and hugs herself, grinning widely as she catches sight of the identical what-the-fuck expressions that Riz is pretty sure he and Adaine are wearing. “Ugh, I haven’t been tickled in forever.”

Adaine makes a considering sound as Kristen twists back to the battle royale happening behind her. Riz looks over at her, catches one of her ears twitching under the attention before she looks back. “I don’t think I’ve ever been tickled,” she murmurs, a little shy.

Penny’s tickled him before, and maybe his mom when he was little, but yeah, it’s been a while. He shrugs. “You think you’d like it?”

There’s another cry from the bed, and both of them whip around to look. Fig’s looming over a thoroughly trapped Fabian now - just barely, even with her horns - and wriggling her fingers evilly with gleaming eyes. “Are you going to say you’re sorry for breaking sleepover code?”

“There’s - there’s no sleepover code,” Fabian sputters, but he’s grinning sheepishly even as he squirms against Gorgug’s hold. “Gorgug, man, come on, you can’t just betray a fellow member of the Bloodrush team like this!”

“Oh - uh -” Gorgug looks pleadingly at the both of them. “But I’m in the Sig Figs too - does that mean one of you guys is going to be mad at me?”

Fabian barely blinks. “Yes.”

“YES,” says Fig, even louder.

“Oh, come on, you two.” Kristen sits up between Fig and Fabian, poking at both of their sides and cutting their protests off as they suck their lower lips between their teeth with identical wide-eyed looks. Then, with a curious tilt to her head, she reaches around to tickle Gorgug’s side too, grinning as he squeaks. “There are no sides in a tickle fight, everyone knows this.”

Riz forgets that Kristen has three little brothers, sometimes. It’s easy to, until she starts playing peacekeeper between the rest of them.

“Where are all these rules coming from?” Fabian questions indignantly. Adaine makes a sound of agreement next to Riz - is she writing these down?

Oh, who’s he kidding, he’s probably going to ask her for a copy afterwards.

Fig smirks. “Well, I think the person with their hands free should get to enforce the rules. Like so.” She reaches for the thin tank top Fabian’s wearing and scribbles her fingers over his belly, crowing in delight as he shrieks. “Not ticklish, huh? Who’s ticklish now, bitch?”

“You - ahaha, haaa, fuck - anyone’s ticklish when they’re being restrained!” Fabian insists through panicked laughter, wriggling for all he’s worth. Riz squints - maybe it’s just the rogue homework he’s been doing lately, but it looks like Gorgug’s not even holding him that tight.

He shrieks again as Kristen bounces excitedly and reaches for him too. “Nonono, NOHOHO - Kristen, ahaha! You said - eheheee, stop - you said no sihihides!”

“These are your hips, Fabian. And no sides doesn’t mean you can’t gang up on people,” Kristen sticks her tongue out in concentration, squeezing at one of his hips and then the other. “Hey, say you’re ticklish.”

“What? No - hahaha - shit, shiHIHIT-” Fabian starts to really thrash under their teasing - Riz catches him elbowing Gorgug neatly in the gut, but their barbarian absorbs the blow like it’s nothing. Riz tries not to feel jealous and doesn’t entirely succeed.

Kristen smiles beatifically from cheek to freckled cheek. “The truth’ll set you free, brother.”

Fabian shakes his head frantically, catching sight of Riz and Adaine by his desk through teary eyes. “The Ball - The Ball, help me, this isn’t - ahahaha, nonoplease - it’s not fair!” he pleads through the widest smile Riz has seen on him so far, which is saying something. “Don’t you care about justice?”

Fig looks over at them too, now, hair slipping from her braid and fangs on full display as she beams. “Yeah, you two, get over here or you’re next! You’re missing out on the sleepover fun!”

“Oh,” Adaine says uncertainly. “I didn’t know this was part of it.”

She looks over at Riz - not that he knows any better, but he’s absolutely not going to cop to it. “Oh, yeah, tickle fights,” he blusters. “Definitely part of sleepovers. To, uh, tire everyone out.”

Adaine looks out of the window at blue skies just barely starting to blush pink and gets a small, quiet grin on her face that he can’t help but return. “Oh, okay,” she says. “Riz, are you ticklish?”

Oh. Oh, no.

Riz stiffens. It doesn’t seem like anyone else has heard Adaine’s question, maybe he can get under the bed before any of them notice -

He. He could, is the thing, he’s an awesome rogue, but - out here seems pretty fun too. “That’s more of a hands-on investigation thing,” he shoots back, and leaps for the bed before she can catch hold of him.

He is, after all, an investigator first and foremost, and there’s more room to be made on that mattress.

[heartofsnark]

Honey, I Laugh When It Sinks In. (Johnny/Fem!V) NSFW

Note: So, ya girl’s having whore hours. And I wrote Johnny getting his butthole reamed by my fem!V’s strap. 

Warnings: peggings, assplay, sex toys, oral sex, cum fixation, dumb jokes

Summary:  Johnny's got his body back, that's nice. Both him and V are super alive, doing great things. Those great things do mostly involved fucking each other and denying the fact they love each other; because they're dumbasses. But more importantly, now that Johnny can interact with real life object, V has a chance to fuck him with a strap-on. And doesn't that just sound like a fun time.

The fact that Johnny to some degree likes his ass played with is a secret to absolutely no one. But especially not to V, she’s not sure the two could have secrets from each other after their time being brain roommates. Dreams of his memories haunted her for months and the guy did a lot of fucking. It wasn’t uncommon to fall asleep and find herself in Johnny’s skin being reamed by Rogue’s strap-on or getting fucked after letting Kerry top for a change.  

There’s not a lot of mystery left between V and Johnny, to say the least.

But, for some reason, Johnny’s ass has remained uncharted territory for the merc. Well, maybe not for no reason at all. Most of their sex life has been while he’s a digital ghost rattling around in her skull and unable to interact with real life objects. And she never quite had the courage to see if that limitation included strap-ons and butt plugs, though she has a sneaking suspicion it probably did, she doubts Arasaka included a butthole exploit in their tech.

However, the two are no longer dependent on Arasaka’s ass related limits. He’s real, now, out of her skull and back in the flesh. His original flesh even, after they found it in the depths of Arasaka’s bullshit amongst the other bodies the corp had gotten their hands on over the years.

It was a whole thing; but he’s here now and they’re fucking again. Because that’s apparently just what they do. Probably because she’s hopelessly… infatuated with him and knows casual sex is probably all she’ll ever get. Because he clearly still loves Rogue and could never want her beyond sex-

V promptly smacks herself in the head, groaning as her thoughts begin to spiral. She twists in her bed, crushing a pillow to her chest. Trying to hype herself up into asking for a chance to peg Johnny turned into wallowing about her stupid fucking feelings. Because every thought about him turns into wallowing about her stupid fucking feelings.

She hears the shower turn off, having nagged Johnny into taking one as soon as they got home. Which means it’s almost time to ask and she wonders why this is making butterflies swim in her stomach, why she’s so nervous? The merc is no stranger to pegging or taking control in the bedroom.

Maybe because she does lean towards the submissive side of things and Johnny leans towards the dominant, the rockerboy having taken charge in most of their bedroom interactions. Maybe because it’s Johnny and the idea that he may not feel comfortable doing this with her, the idea that there’s a part of him he’d give others but not her, makes a pit form in her gut.

She drops the pillow and lightly smacks herself in the head again; for fucks sake she’s asking to peg the man, not asking for his hand in marriage. Not that she would ever ask for that… That would be weird. Her face is bright red at that thought, feeling like a school girl fantasizing about being Mrs. Silverhand someday. Mrs. Linder?

Both of those sound awful, actually.

There’s the padding of footsteps across her apartment as Johnny leaves the bathroom. The merc moving to sit at the edge of the bed as he comes walking closer. Her favorite geriatric rockerboy, condolences to Kerry, is absolutely shameless and as much as she chides him, she certainly doesn’t mind the show.

Johnny is completely naked, save for a towel casually on his shoulders as he ruffles it through his overgrown dark hair. Damn near every inch of skin and chrome on display to the merc. Her mouth dries as she watches a bead of water run down his stomach, past the inked skin of his ribs. V’s eyes then shift to get a look at his ass, her fixation of the night. He’s on the flatter side, to say the least, broad shoulders and narrow trim hips. But it belongs to him and thats all that matters, pancake ass or otherwise.

“You’re tracking water everywhere,” she scolds him, comfortably using her voice around him. Maybe due to left over remnants of his own brain in hers or just because it’s Johnny.

“Eh,  Nibbles will clean it up.”

“What part of  ‘don’t let him drink shower water’ do you not understand?”

“The part where you tell me what to do.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute, you know that?”

“Am I?”

He’s suddenly in her face, hands pressed to the mattress on each side of her hips, as he leans into her space. A smirk on his lips, damp hair falling into his eyes, and forehead nearly knocking into her own. She can feel the heat coming off his body, the droplets of water rolling off his skin and onto hers. And before another word can be said they’re kissing, drawn to each other in a way neither can explain, coming together like this as natural as breathing.

It feels like a tingle of electricity under her skin wherever her touches, every cell in her body begging for his tongue. The pure relief of feeling his tongue push into her mouth, to feel the scratch of his beard on her skin. It feels right, every time, as if this is just how they’re meant to be. Like a part of her soul is finally slotting back into place.

She wraps her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers in his wet hair as he kisses her, deep and heavy. The taste of cigarette smoke and mint gum still clinging to his tongue, the latter meant to help suppress the cravings for the former. Different from how his kisses tasted as an engram, but still so distinctly him.

V breaks the lip locks when his hands start to push under her shirt, a soft whimper on her lips, as badly as she wants him anyway she can get him, she can’t lose her nerve in asking for what she wants most tonight. His mouth is on her neck in a second, licking and biting at her pulse point, beard scratching the tender skin as she gasps.

“Johnny, I.. fuck,” she whines as he bites at the skin, “can, uh, fuck, can I… peg you?”

His mouth stops moving on her neck and that pit in her gut comes back, terrified she ruined something. Wanting to tell him to forget it, pretend she never asked, as he pulls away from her pulse point and she misses his touch, only a second apart and she’s starved for his affection. But then he pulls away enough for her to see his face, the grin on his lips, and it's a rush of relief.

“That what got you acting like a basket case all day?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Fuckin’ knew something was up; acted like you were a second away from humping my leg all day, then send me off to shower all by myself.”

“I wasn’t that bad.”

“You seriously spent all day thinking about fuckin’ my ass, didn’t you?”

“Not all day.”

“Jesus christ,” he lets out something between a laugh and a breath, she can’t help but giggle too, “well, then, show me what you got, princess.”

And she surges forward, clumsily wrenching  her fingers into his hair as she kisses him, teeth nearly clacking together in her messy excitement. Deep but quick, not wanting to spend much longer in this awkward position, she pulls away with a bite to his lower lip.

“Lay down on the bed, for me?” She asks softly when she breaks away, looking up at him with big eyes and a bat of her eyelashes. And she can see for a moment, the mischievous light in his eyes, the impulse to refuse, to be a brat. But he rolls his eyes and does what she asks, behaving for now.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, you know that?” he mimics her words from earlier as plops back with his hair against the pillows and she giggles, scrambling to straddle him. To have him naked beneath her.

And what a sight that makes. Johnny is unfairly gorgeous, something she’s thought for far longer than she’d care to admit. Long dark hair wetting her pillows, deep brown eyes looking up at her with lust, the messy scruff of his beard, the scar over his lip, and the burn scars that trace up the side of his neck.  Beyond the visual, as she settles over him, she can feel his hard cock smearing precum across her skin. Good to know he’s excited.

His hands squeeze her hips, the warmth of flesh and the chill of silver sending sparks up her spine. He squeezes tightly and the hint of a smirk that teases at his lips tells her he’s about to say something stupid.

“Hate to break your heart, V, but, this isn’t exactly what pegging means.”

“I’m not about to just ram a strap-on up your ass dry, Johnny, it’s a process.”

“Oh, I get prep work, damn, didn’t know I was that special.”

“Kiss me before I kill you,” she taunts, leaning over him to capture his lips. She pushes her tongue deep into his mouth, devours that distinct taste of him, getting another fill of it before she forces herself away.

It’s her turn now to latch onto Johnny’s neck, finding a spot to leave a mark not unlike the one he no doubt left her. The taste of his skin beneath her tongue, the heavy sigh of pleasure from his mouth as she sucks, bites and licks. Only when she’s certain, she’s marred his skin, does she pull away with a wet sound. Bruised skin looking back at her. She smiles at her bit of handiwork but can’t admire it for long, wanting to taste him again just as soon as she’s stopped.

V peppers kisses, licks, and bites across his skin. From his shoulder to his jaw, leaving faint little bruises wherever her teeth get involved. He groans and sighs under the touch, just soaking it in, as starved for it as she is. V can feel his cock stiff and leaking against her thigh as she nips his jawline, kisses down and across his throat, to run her tongue along the other side of his neck now. His hands grope and squeeze at her ass as she works him over, feeling the roughness of his scarred skin under her tongue. She gives the same treatment, sucking and biting every inch of flesh she can.

“Fuck,” he curses, rocking his head back further into the pillows, instinctively trying to give her more access.

V shifts her lower body, giving herself room to reach between them and touch him. She wants to make him cum before she even gets the strap in, maybe more than once, overwhelm him with pleasure and get him relaxed before she slides inside fully. The merc wraps her hand around him, feeling the heat and weight of his cock, wet with water and precum. He groans at the touch, a rumble she can feel in his throat as she kisses it.

“Might need an anatomy lesson, sweetheart, that’s not quite my ass,” he taunts, earning him a harsh bite to his neck and a tighter grip on his dick.

“Can you be patient for a fuckin’ minute? I’ll get there when I get there.”

“And will that be some time this year or next? Oh fuck, fuck,” he chokes on his words as she begins stroking him in earnest, using his precum to keep him slick as she works.

The merc has plenty of lube in the little drawer area under her bed, along with all her toys, but for now she wants to stick to the basics. It's just the first round for him and barely a precursor of what's to come. She bites and sucks his neck as she strokes him, first slow and languidly, just feeling every inch of him. Feeling the way he twitches in her hand, the way each stroke brings more precum, how he groans a little louder each time she gets to the head of his cock, flushed red and more sensitive than the rest of him.

Then she starts to get quicker, shorter, almost rougher strokes of her hand, working harder and faster to feel him cum beneath her. His breathing getting quicker, more curses beneath his breath, rumbles of them in his throat. He’s getting close, fingers sinking into her hip tighter and tighter, the other gripping the sheets as she builds his pleasure as high as she can with just her hand.

“Fuck!”

Johnny’s body draws tight, a flush across his skin, as he twitches once more in her hand and cums. White shooting quickly across his stomach and chest, cum sticking to his skin and her’s. It’s nothing compared to how much he’s left inside her before, no floodgates broke open, just enough to make a mess. She shamelessly licks and sucks off what he left on her hand, hearing him groan at the sight, the bitter salty taste of it heavy on her tongue. And she knows it should be gross to her, the taste of it, but she loves it.

Once her hand is licked clean, she moves over him to lave her tongue over his chest, catching the cum that landed over his skin. A rumble of a chuckle in his chest as she works her way down; lapping sweat, water, and cum off of him.

“Swear,  could bust into a cup and you’d down it like water, wouldn’t ya?”

“Fuck off,” she curses against his skin, already having licked the cum off of his rib tattoo, already chasing down drop of it that’s dripped down his stomach.

“Such a little cum whore.” He lazily rubs his hand through her hair, taunting her as she licks his stomach and hips clean of any cum, her face feeling like it’s on fire.

She pulls away from his skin, once she’s convinced she’s gotten most of the cum off his skin and the head of his cock starts to bump her chin.

“Spread,” she demands, trying to maintain some mask of domme-ness as she taps his thigh. Johnny bends his knee, spreading his legs slightly and hands grabbing at the pillow over his head; a painfully beautiful sight to the merc.

“Fuckin’ finally, about time,” he responds, because he’s still an asshole.

“Again, not going in dry, you’re not getting the strap quite yet.”

“Ugh….”

She pinches his thigh and he just grins, finding her annoyance just oh so entertaining. V takes a moment to peel off her shirt, feeling a bit of relief from the fever on her skin, open air hitting her sweaty flesh. And she can feel his eyes on her when she does so, brown eyes staring at her small breasts, following her pierced stiff nipples. As much as he’s bitched about her being a member of the itty bitty titty committee, he seems to always gawk at them when he has a chance.  She likes to think that… means something , but it probably just means he’s a slut.

V considers taking off her panties too, slick and sweat making them stick to her neglected cunt, but that would require far too much maneuvering to make it worth the effort. Especially when tonight isn’t about that. She’s able to balance on her knees to lean over the edge of the bed, rolling out the underneath compartment to get what she needs. And she can feel that stare now hoving on her bent over ass, not that he can even get a decent look at it from where he’s laying. But that won’t stop him from ogling apparently.

“So, when do I get to fuck your ass?” He asks as she’s grabbing lube and a butt plug from her sex toy stash.

“You’ve played with my ass before,” she says, kind of surprised, memories of his fingers and tongue in that specific hole.

“Haven’t fucked it yet, which just seems like a crime, quite frankly.”

“Oh no,” she rolls her eyes, “not a crime, we’ve never done one of those before.”

“Would you let me fuck your ass?”

In a heartbeat, she thinks immediately and is so happy he no longer lives in her skull.

“Hmm, maybe, but it's your ass on the chopping block tonight, I’m ‘fraid.”

“Yours is so much nicer though.”

“Yeah… that’s not saying much, gonna be like fucking a hole in a wooden plank.”

“Or you could just give me a titty fuck, oh wait.”

She grabs the strap-on she intends to use, a big cyan blue one that she’s been waiting entirely too long to try out. And she shakes it in front of him.

“I’m either gonna fuck you or beat you to death with it, I swear to god, Johnny.”

He grins and laughs, she’s laughing too. Unable to help it, their back and forth always bringing a lightness to her chest. It just feels like them, as they should be. Two dumbasses making fun of each other.

V has what she needs except for one other thing, she stretches to reach the night stand and grab her phone, having to lean over Johnny to do so. And she can feel Johnny looking at her funny, brows furrowed for a moment, as he watches her pull up the app she needs.

“Are you checking your fuckin’ email, what is this?”

She laughs, unable to resist a chance to tease;  “Oh yeah, just checking my texts, me and River are supposed to do something after this.”

“Haha, that’s so funny,” he says dryly, a bite to his words, as he suddenly grabs her hair and looks into her eyes, “mention the pig’s name in bed again and I’ll fuck you in front of him.”

His tone is on the harsh side, but his pull in her hair is barely rough enough to feel it. The threat and movement only serving to make her face scarlet and her cunt slicker. Johnny has always had some… jealous, possessive tendencies, especially in the bedroom when she pushes him just a bit. And she knew exactly what she was doing by mentioning River’s name specifically, the former cop always an oddly shaped sore spot for Johnny.

She kisses him, soft and quick, before pulling away. His grip not even hard enough to control her movements.

“It's an app that vibrates the butt plug, Johnny,” she explains, smiling as she quells his worries, though something in her still has to wonder why he has them.

And its faint, but she can see a hint of red come across his cheeks, pink behind the scruff on his cheeks.

“Oh, well, carry on then,” he says, letting go of her hair and running his hand down her back.

“All my attention is on you, promise.”

“Fuckin’ better be,” he grumbles under his breath as he falls back against the pillow, she doesn’t see embarassed Johnny often, his lack of shame truly astounding. But, when she can manage to get him flushed, it's adorable.

“You’re such a gonk.”

“Shouldn’t there be a way to sync it with your neuroware or something, I don’t fuckin’ know.”

“I’m not installing buttplug tech in my brain, Johnny, that’s a malware nightmare waiting to happen.”

“Didn’t have to mention that asshole.”

“Stop pouting, only asshole I’m worried about right now is yours,” she jokes, getting back to where she can comfortable play with him, starting to cover her fingers in a healthy dose of lube.

“Ugh,” he groans, “that was so stupid, its a miracle I’m still hard.”

“Being a slut isn’t a miracle, Johnny.”

“Is the way I do it- fuck,”  he gasps and curses as she slides a lubed up finger inside of him, “you could fuckin’ warn a guy.”

“You said you wanted me to hurry up, you don’t get to bitch about it now.”

He lets out a quiet groan as she works one finger inside of him, feeling the heat of him around the digit. V has small fingers, one of many drawbacks to her petite stature. One finger doesn’t even stretch him, more so just getting lube into him, so everything that comes next has an easier time sliding in. She leaves him empty for just a moment as she coats a second finger in lube and begins to work both digits inside of him.

Tighter with a second finger added, stretching him a bit more as she shifts and scissors them inside of him. He groans a bit at the added pleasure, but his sounds are still soft, her fingers not thick or long enough to give him exactly what he needs. More lube and she adds a third finger, which makes him curses, cock twitching as she does her best to prepare him.

With her other hand she starts to stroke his dick, earning a deep throaty sound, the combined pleasure making him nosier. V works faster, wanting to wring more of those sounds from him, As she works her fingers inside of him quicker, fucking them into him as deeply and fast as she can, a soft squelching noise starts to ring out combining with the wet slide of her hand on his cock.  His hips squirm and writhe, bringing himself down further on her fingers, just to thrust up into her hand.

“Fuck,” he’s reaching up and gripping the pillows again, expression tight as she toys with him, “fuck, fuck, V!”

His cock twitches in her hand she moves to wrap her lips around the head of it, swirling her tongue over his heated skin just as he cums, something between a curse and a growl as he paints the inside of her mouth white. That same salty bitter taste coating her tongue, more of it this time, that she swallows down without shame. She pulls her mouth off of him with a wet pop, her fingers leaving him with another squelching sound.

“Needed it straight from the tap this time?” He tries to sass her, but his voice is a breathy rasp.

“Gon-gonna make you cum one more time before I use the strap, alright?”

Something between a whine and groan leaves his lips, but he spreads his thighs a little wider, pushes his head a bit further back against the pillows. She rolls her eyes, just thankful his stamina is good enough to withstand all the overstimulation. V covers the butt plug in lube, a black silicone one with a flared base, tech inside to make it vibrate. Once it’s covered, slick as it can be, she gently pushes Johnny’s thigh a little big further out and slides it inside, Johnny cussing at the wider stretch of the toy compared to her fingers. There’s not much resistance to the stretch of it inside of him, every fiber of her dying to tease him for being a slut. But she stays nice, instead grabbing her phone with the app open.

Johnny honestly, probably doesn’t need as much prep work as she’s doing, Though, she is mostly doing it because watching him cum his brains out is a fun time. But he clearly is ready for the main attraction of the evening, her strap. So, she won’t drag this one out too long, she decides looking over the vibration settings and hitting the highest.

“Jesus fuck!” He yells out, not expecting the intense vibrations of the plug. His hips grinding and thrusting, squirming from the pleasure of it buzzing against his prostate. The whirr of the toy audible even through his groans and moans.

And she can feel her mouth watering at the sight of him trying not to whimper against the buzz of the toy, hips moving on instinct as it works it’s magic, hard flushed cock twitching with pleasure. V grabs his narrow hips and pins them down against the bed, feeling him squirm under her touch. And she takes his cock back into her mouth, but this time she doesn’t hesitate to swallow him down as deeply as she can, feeling the slide of it on her tongue, the head pressing into her throat.

“God damn it,” he curses and both his hands grab at the back of her head, pressing her down further, “you need more fuckin’ cum?”

She gags a little as he starts fucking her face, no longer able to keep his hips pinned, as he keeps her head in place. V relaxes her throat as best she can, just letting him use it as a fleshlight while the plug vibrates inside of him.  His pace is brutal, trying to match the intensity of the vibration as he fucks her throat.

“Such a fuckin’ whore for my cum, two loads not enough, huh, princess? Needed to feel me cum down your fuckin’ throat too?”

She’s unable to respond, too busy being choked on Johnny’s cock, mouth a drooling mess as he fucks her face. But each word, little comment and taunt makes her clit throb, makes her that much wetter. And the thought of reaching down and fingering herself is so tempting, but Johnny isn’t going to last long. Between her throat around his cock and the toy in his ass, if she bothers to touch herself, she’ll only work herself up more.

Sure enough, just a few more messy thrusts, then his cock is throbbing against her tongue and he’s cumming down her throat just like he promised. That familiar taste coating her mouth as she swallows every last drop, even when she catches herself nearly coughing on it.

He pulls his hands from her hair, still whining as the toy vibrates, V having to take a minute to come up for air and catch her breath. Once the lightheaded feeling passes away she grabs her phone and turns off the vibrating, Johnny’s body relaxing as he gets a break from stimulation, though not for long. She gives him a moment to adjust before softly pulling the plug out of him, earning a sound suspiciously close to a whimper. V puts the plug aside and grabs the strap, Johnny catching his breath, still hard and leaking by some miracle,  as she secures it over her underwear.

A bright vivid blue strap, thick and long. She slathers it in lube, no such thing as too wet, as she empties the rest of the tube over the toy. The blue silicone shining with the slick gel. Johnny watches her as she lubes it up, she can nearly feel the impatience radiating off of him.

“Any position you prefer for this?” She asks, wanting to make sure he’s as comfortable as possible. Johnny responds by rolling over onto his knees, ass up in the air with his face in the pillow.

“Should be easier like this,” he murmurs into the pillow and then chooses to wiggle his ass at her, like the weirdo he is.

“Don’t exactly have much worth shaking, Johnny,” she taunts, giving him a small sharp smack to the ass.

“Hey, you’re the one who wanted to fuck it so bad.”

She rolls her eyes and prepares to finally peg Johnny. She’s on her knees behind him and would like to line up her toy with his asshole, but… there seems to be a newly discovered logistical issue. She tries to raise herself up higher, but her hips can’t quite align with his ass. She’s well aware that Johnny is over a foot taller than her, but it only becomes a problem at the weirdest of times. She kind of assumed since he can fuck her from behind, she’d have no trouble returning the favor, but… alas.

“Can you get your butt any lower?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No… “

“This is what I get for fuckin’ a hobbit, I swear.”

“Just lower your ass, please.”

Johnny does his best to bring his ass down as low as he can and with a little finagling and the knowledge that she’ll probably have awful leg cramps for it, she’s able to get the head of the strap aligned with his hole.

She grips his hips and brings him back onto it as she slowly slides it inside as deeply as she can. A long low groan leaves Johnny’s throat, something that sounds like the word ‘finally’ With a bit of effort, she’s able to start slowly thrusting into him, watching it slide in and out of him. Hearing each grunt and curse as she fills him, the squelching of the strap sliding inside his slick hole. Slow direct long pushes into him, her thigh muscles already burning from the effort.

V runs her hand down the expanse of his back, the freckled skin of his shoulders, and she wants to kiss it. To kiss his  back and shoulders while she fucks him. And when she does her best to lay further over his back, she can barely kiss his shoulders with entirely too much effort, she must look ridiculous. This is ridiculous, she finds herself giggling, stomach hurting as she laughs.

“Are you- are you laughing?” Johnny asks, voice incredulous and she feels bad to beg him for a chance to do this, but in this position it’s just not working well.

“I’m sorry, I just, I feel like a Chihuahua trying to hump a Doberman, Johnny.” She says through laughter as she pulls the strap-on out of him. And he’s laughing too, chuckling as he rolls back over, staring at her.

And she’s sure she looks ridiculous, red faced and giggling with a blue lubed strap-on around her hips. She buries her face in her hands, unable to stop laughing at how fucking ridiculous it is, she’s too short to peg that way. Then his hands are wrapping around her wrists and he’s pulling them down, back in her space. And there’s a soft smile on his lips, that forms soft wrinkles around his eyes, a gentleness in his gaze. He’s so pretty and she can’t even fuck him right, the world is cruel. Johnny kisses her through her laugher, a soft press of their lips, before he pulls away. He lays back against the pillows, like he was before the not so bright idea of trying doggy style.

“Here,” he spreads his legs, smile still on his lips, “let’s try it like this.”

“Thank you,” she says through a giggle, moving to try this again.

It’s much easier with him laying down on his back, able to raise his hips easily to meet the strap-on. And she can look at his face now, which she definitely considers a plus. She can stay in a comfortable kneeling position as she lines it up perfectly and sinks into him again. His teeth sink into his bottom lip, head shifting back as she fills him again. Comfortably so this time and able to see his cock leaking precum onto his stomach as she fucks him.

Her nails dig into his hips as she begins thrusting into him, listening to the wet sound of it pushing inside of him. She keeps her motions slow and smooth, not wanting to fuck him senseless quite yet, watching for ever sharp intake of air from him. Staring at the flush across his skin, the sheen of sweat across his flesh. The groans, the sighs, and curses he lets out with every thrust of the toy into him.

“Faster, V, fuck, I ain’t gonna break.”

“Know what I’m doing,” she says,  just barely speeds up, wanting to tease him, to drag it out.

“That remains to be seen, fuck, c’mon, harder,” he tries to demand, writing his hips to meet each thrust of the strap, trying to change the pace.

“Nothing wrong with me taking my time, patience won’t kill you,” she teases, getting just a little harsher with the thrusts, just enough to hear the slap of her thighs hitting his, the soft pap of skin hitting skin. And he groans, eyes closed for a minute before opening again, a look in them that she’s seen too many times before.

“Nah, fuck this,” he says, then she’s being pushed back, metal and flesh hand shoving her against the bed as the world shifts around her.

“Hey!” She yells out as she’s suddenly on her back, looking up at Johnny who’s now straddling her hips. But she doesn’t have it in her to be mad, not when he’s naked on top of her, with hair falling into his eyes.

The shift in position made the strap-on slide out of him again, but Johnny wastes no time, bringing his ass down onto it, filling himself with the dildo. And she realizes he’s going to ride it cowgirl… cowboy style. He leans puts his hands back on the bed behind him, for leverage as he begins to do just that, bouncing on the silicone cock, hard and fast.

“Won’t fuck me right, gotta do it my goddamn self.”

“Swear to fuck,” she squeezes his hips, watching the way his cock bounces as he fucks himself on her strap, “next time I’m tying you down and gagging you.”

“Look forward to it,” he says, a wicked grin telling her how powerful her threat really is.

Johnny sets a brutal pace, as he’s one to do, his weight coming down on his hips heavy and powerful with every bounce. He barely pulls himself off of it with every movement, lifting himself just an inch off the slick toy before he’s bringing his weight back down. Its desperate, frenetic movements, just fucking himself on the toy. Each movement brings the slap of flesh clapping together, the squelch of the toy pushing into him, and the soft grind of the strap’s harness into her clit through her underwear. Not enough to get her off, but enough to make her whine.

And she tries to meet his pace, to thrust up into him, but Johnny doesn’t give her a chance, every time his weight comes down on her, it pins her hips in place, leaves her to lay there and let him have his fun. Just to watch as he rides it, as it slides in and out of him, barely out as he’s just desperate to grind the toy into the deepest parts of him. Let her mouth water as she watches his flushed red cock drip with precum and bounce along with his body.

“Fuck, you look so good like this, Johnny,” she tells him, just staring and Johnny groans, grinding himself down onto the dildo.

“Yeah,” his voice is breathy, panting through the words, “like watching me ride your cock?”

“Mmhmm, so fuckin’ beautiful…”

Her words trail off vaguely, squeezing his hips, just staring at him. Sweaty tanned skin, the ink that marks his ribs and arm, the rough flesh of his scars, freckles she could map out with her tongue if he let her. Broad shoulders, muscled bicep on one side and solid chrome on the other. Long dark hair with those deep brown eyes. The thick trail of hair that goes down his stomach. The trim narrow hips grinding him down onto the blue toy, his thick cock that really does deserve all the hype he gives it.

“Christ V,” he curses, voice rough and she can see the flush across his cheeks again, “stop fuckin’ looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” She asks, watching him rub a hand over his face, why is he embarrassed? Does he not expect her to look at him when he’s fucking himself on her silicone dick?

“Like, like, fuck!”

V gasps as his body goes tight, cock twitching as cum splashes across chest and chin, hot on her skin. A stray drop hitting her lip, only there for a moment before she licks it off, Johnny goes slack on top of her. Body relaxed and loose as his orgasms works its way through him, cock throbbing as a few more dribbles of cum drip onto her stomach. After a moment, Johnny curses again, blinking as he comes back to earth. Another moment and he starts to pull himself off of the strap.

“Can’t say that went exactly how I planned, but-eep!”

V squeals as he starts ripping off the strap-on harness, throwing it aside without any care before he’s yanking her underwear off, air hitting her slick cunt. He throws her panties across the apartment without another thought.

“Johnny, what are you do- oh fuck!”

Before she can finish the sentence he’s between her thighs, legs thrown over his shoulder as he buries his tongue inside of her. She grabs onto his hair on instinct as he begins to lick up every drop of slick inside of her, painfully wet after all she’d done to him with no relief for herself. Johnny eats pussy like a man starved, making groans and grunts of pleasure against her core as laps at her insides. Like he could really lick away every drop of slick, even as each swipe of his tongue makes her whine and as she just gets wetter.

Then his mouth is at her swollen clit and she’s seeing stars as focuses in on the most sensitive part of her. Never knowing when he’s going to lick patterns against the bundle of nerves or suck on it, his actions are quick and unpredictable, but everything makes her cry out. Her hips squirm and grind against his face, hands unintentionally pushing her into her center at the same time. Johnny’s arms wrap around hips and pin them to the mattress.

“Fuck, I-I’m close, Johnny, I-”

A harsh suck on her clit, the scratch of his beard against her core, and she’s gone. Toes curling and fingers tight in his hair, a keening moan on her tongue as the world goes blank. Pleasure hitting its peak and overcoming every cell in her body, a mess of her wet coating Johnny’s tongue and chin, that he licks up without hesitation.

After another moment he comes up for air, leaving her boneless and panting as she tries to get her bearings back. She didn’t expect for Johnny to touch her like the, meaning for the night to be completely about the pegging, but she really should have known. V’s sure the rockerboy would take it as personal offense if she didn’t cum at least once during sex with him.

The merc is pulled up to the pillows and against Johnny’s chest, the two settling in as they catch their breath. She’s sure the apartment is a wreck right now, things thrown haphazardly, there’s lube in her bedsheets, but can’t find the energy to truly care. V buries her head into his chest, listening to his heartbeat, smelling the musk of his skin, at peace just laying here against him.

“Can’t sleep with your hearing aids in, you know that, V,” Johnny says, skimming his fingers over the shell of her ears, just barely touching the little devices.

“I can sometimes…” She whines, wanting to fully hear his heartbeat and snoring while she sleeps. .

“And you’ll wake up with your ears rubbed raw.”

She glares up at him, pouting as he takes her hearing aids out for her, putting them on the side table. He looks back down at her, then brings his hands as high as he can so she can see them.

“Good night, princess,” he signs and she can’t be upset anymore, the sight of his admittedly sloppy sign language always making her heart melt. A flush of red crawling up her cheeks as she nuzzles her face into his chest, unable to hear his heartbeat, but still feeling the rise and fall of his chest with every breath. Mururing a good night against his skin as she drifts off.

[buckyskorpion]

11 Hours - part one

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Reader

Summary: bucky is the mystery you can’t wait to solve. if you can get out of his bed long enough, that is. a biker au.

Warnings: gang-typical violence, sex scenes, alcohol mentions, probably more to come so stay tuned

A/N: um yes so hello another au and another wip..... dont hate the player hate the game. i hope you enjoy this though! this is my take on a biker!bucky au because we definitely dont have enough of those. let me know your thoughts on this, critiques, predictions, anything! my ask is open. also i wont be taking tags for this so please dont ask. 

title taken from 11 hours by wet | playlist

You lie on your stomach, sheets pooled by your ankles, and watch Bucky watch you. One hand propping him up on his side, the other tracing slow, hair-raising circles on your bare back. He’s not really seeing you though, eyes glazed over so they look shiny and huge, big enough to get lost in. You roll away from him, off the edge of the bed and onto your feet.

“Going?” he asks, voice rough. You can’t remember the last time one of you spoke - the time between breathless moans and now seems stretched, like a liminal space you’ve both been sitting in for far too long.  It’s time to get back to the real world. You shrug one shoulder, rooting around his bedroom floor for your clothes to redress.

“It’s late,” you say. He huffs an agreement. The two of you didn’t get back to his apartment until after midnight, so who knows the time now.

“Let me call you a cab,” Bucky says, rolling onto his back to pat around the bedside table for his phone. You toss him a look over your shoulder, chosing to ignore him as you pull your skinny jeans up over your ass. Bucky pauses to watch, tongue flicking over his lips and not bothering to hide his grin when you catch him. You throw your jacket at his head which he catches with ease, laughing himself back into the pillows. Ugh, he’s such a menace.

You walk back over to the bed once you get your last shoe on, closing the distance you’d created that was so obvious in the contrast between his bare skin and you, fully dressed. You lean over him, letting him tug you close with a hand on your hip while you pull him up with a grip on his dog-tags. You kiss him, a hard press of lips and a quick swipe of your tongue that he tries to follow but you pull away. He lets you go, rolling his eyes at the tease.

“See ya later, tough guy,” you say, backing up to the door. He tosses your leather jacket back to you, and you catch it with one hand as you head down the hallway. It’s the closest thing you’ll get to a goodbye from him, so you let the front door click shut without another word.

You shrug into your jacket as you race down the stairs of Bucky’s apartment building, heading for the laundry room. It’s not like you know Bucky - all you do is fuck on any day you both happen to be free, starting at a grungy bar in downtown weeks ago and ending here, in some strange friends with benefits situation (minus the ‘friends’ part). He’s hot, and you’re not looking for a relationship, so it’s perfect. Only, something about the scars on Bucky’s knuckles and the motorbike he drives you home on after the bar makes the hair on the back of your neck raise. Something about Bucky is bad news, and you’re not about to get caught up in it just for some (mindblowingly good) sex.

So, you head to the laundry room and climb out the window rather than using the lobby doors. Nobody sees you, and it’s easy to get to if you stand on the dryer in the far right corner. You don’t know why you think someone might be watching Bucky’s apartment, or following you from your late night visits, but your dad always said you were paranoid and it’s never hurt you this far in your life. You swing a leg through the window and drop down into the patchy grass below.

From here you scale the fence into the gym parking lot next door and enter the street that way, nobody the wiser. You stuff your hands in your pockets as you walk down the street, itching for a cigarette or some gum or a pair of earphones, something to keep you company as walk home in the middle of night in New York. There are still people out and about, because of course there are, it’s New York. You make it home without a hitch and immediately head to the shower to wash off the night.

Naked again, before you get under the jet you check your phone. Bucky has texted you - probably a joke or something, his pretence for checking you get home safely. Tough guy my ass, you think as you open the picture he’d sent. He’s holding up the black lace panties you’d been wearing, the one’s he’d pulled off with his teeth and tossed aside without a second thought. Under it, he’s sent another message. Think you forgot something.

Did I really forget them? You try to bite back a grin, because it’s sad to be standing in your bathroom smiling at your phone, but you’re unsuccessful. You watch the three dots under Bucky’s name start and stop, then start again, making your heartbeat pick up. You’d made the oh-so-confident Bucky ‘dont know his last name and don’t need to’ falter. It still gives you a thrill.

Don’t think you’ll be getting them back.

Consider it a present, perv.

You like it

No comment.

You jump in the shower, leaving your phone on the vanity. You can’t leave the shower until you rub one out, the rounds of sex you’d had a mere hour ago long forgotten at the thought of Bucky doing the same thing as you to the panties you’d left behind. Maybe you don’t want to get caught up in whatever shit Bucky is in to set off your paranoia radar, but you certainly want to get caught up in him. If you aren’t already; irreversibly tangled.

***

You never find Bucky, he finds you. Or rather, he gives you a call and you know within a few hours you’ll be at whatever bar or diner he asks you to meet him at, building up the tension until you both can’t take it anymore and go back to his apartment. It doesn’t matter what you say to him, or how many times you say no - you both know you’ll be there.

This time he catches you leaving your dad’s place, pushing through the gate as you put the phone up to your ear. You turn to wave goodbye to your dad in the window he always stands at to see you off towards the subway, and say, “So soon?”

“Hello to you too,” Bucky grumbles, but you know there’s no heat in it. You’re grinning as you dodge pedestrians, tugging your puffer jacket tighter around you with your free hand - the New York winter chill has started to set in and it’s biting through even the hoodie you’re wearing under the jacket.

“Hello, Bucky,” you say, hoping he can pick up on the thick condescension you’re handing him, “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I can hang up,” Bucky warns, and you smirk. You’re winning this round, at least.

“Aw, don’t be like that, baby.” You jog down the subway stairs, hoping your line doesn’t cut out as you move underground. It doesn’t, Bucky’s reluctant laugh filtering clear as day through your phone.

“Baby, huh? Moving onto pet names are we, doll?”

You wrinkle your nose, “Ugh, not if they’re from the nineteen forties, no thank you.”

“I’m sure you hate it,” Bucky says, sarcasm heavy. You can hear his eyeroll from here. “What are you doing?”

“Getting on a train,” you say, as you do indeed slip through the almost-closed doors and try to avoid any and all surfaces around you. “What are you doing?”

“Talking to you,” Bucky says, grin audible. It’s your turn to huff now - Bucky never tells you anything about his life, what he’s doing, who he’s with. It’s another thing that makes you think he’s hiding something, but instead of finding it infuriating and a dealbreaker like you should, instead you’re fascinated. Your mission is to figure Bucky out, piece by piece.

There’s a muffled voice on the other line, someone talking to Bucky and you imagine him covering the receiver with one big palm. A hand that you want on you, running down your skin and pressing down over your throat and dipping between-

“You there?” Bucky asks, jolting you out of your daydream. You’re blushing, suddenly too-hot in the layers that were previously not doing enough to ward off the chill.

You clear your throat and say, “Yeah, yeah, sorry, what?”

“Mmhmm,” Bucky says, clearly amused. “I said, I’ve got a favour to ask you. Something a bit different.”

“Oh?” It had been weeks of going to dive bars and underground diners, meeting Bucky in dark corners to drink rum and cokes and eventually fuck each other senseless until you’re sure Bucky must get noise complaints. Never had he once indicated he might want to change the routine you’d set up. Never had he asked you for a favour. To say you were intrigued was an understatement.

“Come to a party with me tonight?” he asks. You have to replay his voice in your head to make sure you heard right, stunned into silence. He takes your pause for a ‘no’, hurriedly filling it with, “I get if it’s a no, but my friend Nat is a drill sergeant and she’ll give me the third degree if I don’t bring-“

“Don’t hurt yourself,” you say, interrupting his nervous ramble. You’d never heard Bucky sound anything but aggressively confident before. It’s throwing you for more of a loop than his invitation. A large part of your brain tells you to say no. You don’t trust Bucky, really - you barely know him. But thats why you want to say yes. Going to this party might change that. “I’ll go. What time?”

“Eight tonight,” he says, breathing a sigh of relief. “I owe you one.”

“Yeah, you do,” you laugh. You organise to meet at his apartment, not quite ready to give him your address yet, and hang up. Your mind is reeling, sure everyone on the train must feel the impact of that phone call, too.

They’re all going about their business as if something monumental hasn’t just happened. Bucky has invited you into his life, to meet his friends, as his date. What happened to not-friends with benefits? What if this changes the arrangement you’ve carefully cultivated, so perfect for your independent lifestyle and Bucky’s obvious commitment issues?

The temptation is too much. You practically run home when you get off at your stop, anxious to get ready. You’re about to get a few more pieces of the Bucky puzzle and you have to look good for it.

***

Bucky stops you in the front hall of the house, a hand on your arm as he stares down at you. He looks comically large in the tiny Brooklyn town house, even if it is ten times nicer and more beautiful than your place will ever be. The party filters in from further inside the house, loud music and laughter and the obvious clink of beer bottles sounding muffled through the bubble of you and Bucky.

“My friends are… a lot,” he says, drawing his lip between his teeth. You tilt your head at him, amused by what you can only assume is nerves radiating off Bucky. He rolls his eyes at you, kisses you on the forehead quickly, and adds, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I can handle myself, tough guy,” you say as he tugs you by the hand through to the living room where the party is in full swing.

“I hope you’re not calling that punk ‘tough’, lady,” a man calls out from the couch, pointing the neck of his beer at Bucky. His tone sounds aggressive but the wide, gap-toothed smile he gives says otherwise. He gets up and pulls Bucky into one of those manly half-hugs. Bucky doesn’t drop your hand as he pats the guy on the back, and you try in vain not to read too much into that.

“Sam, this is (Y/n),” Bucky says, and to your surprise Sam pulls you into a hug as well. You make wide eyes at Bucky over Sam’s shoulder but he just smirks, clearly amused. He’s still holding your hand.

“Nice to meet you!” Sam exclaims, a bit too loud in your ear but you don’t mind. His happiness is infectious. “Come meet Natasha, she’s going to love you.”

“Why’s that?” you ask, letting yourself be led by Sam with an arm over your shoulders to the couch he’d just vacated. Bucky drops his grip but follows too-close behind you, his body heat almost like a physical touch on your back, reminding you he’s there. You wonder if he’s nervous about what you’re going to say to his friends, or what his friends are going to say to you.

“Because,” Sam says cryptically. You roll your eyes - he’s sounds just like Bucky.

Sam stops in front of the redhead woman he was sitting next to when you entered, dropping the arm from your shoulders. She immediately stops her conversation and stands up, giving you a once over with a smirk tucked tight in the corner of your mouth. You try not to feel intimidated but it’s hard - she’s beautiful, and scary, and did you mention beautiful? She shoots an amused look to Bucky over your shoulder, and in response Bucky rests his fingertips on the small of your back. Barely there, but just enough.

“You’ve brought someone, James,” she says, turning her attention back to you and holding a hand out. “Natasha, lovely to meet you.”

“(Y/n),” you say, taking her hand. It’s soft -  you half expected her to break your hand. “Thank you for having me.”

“Oh, you’re adorable,” she says, and you don’t bother hiding your frown. You don’t like feeling condescended and Natasha seems to be exuding that in palpable waves. Bucky must feel you stiffen because he steps closer, if possible, and slides the hand on your back around to grip your hip.

“Nat,” he says, with warning, and you glance up at Bucky to find him having some kind of silent stare off with Natasha over your head. Eventually he looks back down to you, smiling a bit and squeezing your hip, don’t worry about her. To you, he says, “Let’s go say hi to Steve.”

“See you later, (Y/n),” Nat says, wiggling her fingers in a wave as you follow Bucky to the kitchen. You ignore her, stepping closer to Bucky on instinct as you weave through people packed wall to wall. That was weird, but what did you expect? Bucky did warn you.

Steve turns out to be a giant blonde teddy bear who sweeps Bucky into a hug that lifts him onto his toes. It’s endlessly funny to see huge, muscled, intimidating Bucky being manhandled by a touchy, clearly tipsy behemoth. Bucky doesn’t let it stand for too long, though, bringing Steve into a headlock and sending them both tumbling into the kitchen bench.

“Jerk,” Steve gasps when Bucky lets him go, eyes narrowing. Bucky grins, breathless, and punches him on the shoulder.

“Punk,” he says fondly. You’re mesmerised. You’d wanted to see more of Bucky’s life but you never expected this. It’s like watching him with his family, and it makes something soft and fuzzy swell in your heart which is bad. Very, very bad. Maybe you shouldn’t have come.

Steve finally notices you’re there and you do the normal introductions, watching your hand disappear in his huge one as he shakes it. They’ve all been very welcoming, in their own ways, you notice (bar Natasha, but something tells you she’s always like that). They don’t seem to question your sudden appearance at their party or with their friend, holding Bucky’s hand and being tucked into his side as he passes you a beer and gets to talking about things you have no hope of following. You’re happy just to watch Bucky, smiling and laughing with pointed teeth and crinkles by his eyes. You still don’t really understand why you’re here, but you’re not going to question it. This feels like a stolen moment, something you’re not meant to see and might not see again so you try and commit as much to memory as you can.

The night goes on, talking with Sam and Steve and Natasha who appear to be Bucky’s closest friends and the only ones he bothers making time for. Bucky doesn’t stop touching you the entire time. At first you think it’s nerves, but the more you observe the party around you when the conversation turns to something you can’t contribute to, the more you think it’s for everyone else rather than Bucky’s nerves. You catch a lot of people eyeing his hand on your hip or his arm around your shoulders, or just looking at Bucky in general. Hardly anyone interrupts your little party of five but not for ignoring you - it’s almost like they revolve around you, in tune to the groups’ every movement, but they wouldn’t dare approach. It’s weird. You try not to look too hard into it but your dad is right. You’re paranoid.

Eventually it’s just you and Bucky sitting on a bench outside, a canopy of fairy lights casting shadows from his unfairly long eyelashes as he looks down at your entwined hands in his lap. You tug against his grip, causing him to look up at you and you almost lose your train of thought. Bucky’s eyes are searing blue, the hottest part of the flame.

“You’re being very possessive tonight,” you say, squeezing his hand for emphasis. He doesn’t look away from your eyes, cocking his head to the side and you have the distinct feeling you’re being tested.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks. You don’t answer straight away. Truth be told, you have no idea what’s going on. You went from fucking Bucky on a semi-regular basis, keeping it at strangers who bone and nothing else, to being glued to his side at a party with his closest friends in what feels like no time at all. Whiplash, is what you feel. You don’t think you hate it, though.

“I never said that,” you tell Bucky, and watch as his face morphs from calculating to that shit-eating, confident smirk you’ve come to know. You’re relieved to see it, the sparkle of his eyes as he leans closer to you in the dark of the garden. This, at least, you know.

“You’ve done well tonight,” he says, and you hate how you glow at the compliment when you should be rolling your eyes. “I know I’ve asked a lot.”

“It’s alright Bucky,” you say, smiling at his seriousness. You’d think he’s asked you to commit a crime or something. “Although, I don’t know why you needed me here. I’m glad you did, but…”

“But you thought I only wanted you, to fuck you?” he finishes, kicking his eyebrows up in amusement. You hate the way you blush, ducking your head from him to try and hide it.

“I feel like that was a very logical conclusion,” you say defensively. What else had he given you? You didn’t even know his last name.

He takes your chin between his fingers, tilting your head back up to look at him. He’s smiling soft, not condescending at all, and he moves his hand to cup your cheek in his palm and hold you there, looking at him.

“Maybe this was a test,” he says, licking his lips. Biding time. “To see if I can trust you.”

“Do you?” you ask, eyebrows kicking up.

“Jury’s still out,” he says with a grin, light-hearted, playing it off as a joke but you know from the look in his eyes that he’s being somewhat serious. He looks out at the garden then, still holding you close, and says almost thoughtfully, “My friends like you, though. Even Natasha.”

You scoff at that, and he turns back to you with that crinkly, squishy smile he gave to Steve before. It catches you off guard, enough to not see the kiss before it comes but you catch up as fast as you can. You want to slide into his lap and run your fingers under his shirt, but that’s probably a bit inappropriate in front of a bunch of people you just met. You settle for a frustrated groan against his mouth, biting his lip and tugging so he’s forced to chase you against the back of the bench, crowding your space. He drops your hand to slide his up your thigh, fingertips dangerously close to your crotch, kissing you hard enough to bruise. His tongue in your mouth is scalding, stubble against your skin a delicious burn, and you would’ve gotten lost in it if it weren’t for the very pointed cough from behind Bucky’s shoulder.

It’s Natasha, standing with her arms folded and a smile hidden somewhere in the green of her eyes. You try to mentally will away the flush in your cheeks as Bucky pulls back, hand still on your thigh but turning to glare at Natasha. You find yourself somewhat hiding behind the bulk of his shoulder despite yourself, letting him take the reins.

“Steve is puking,” she reports, raising one eyebrow. “Sam requests your assistance.”

“Fucking ‘course he does,” Bucky grumbles roughly, getting to his feet. Right before he storms away he pauses, leans back down to kiss you again, and then he’s back on a warpath through the house. Other guests part for him like the red sea, and you watch with furrowed eyebrows as they also seem to watch him go. He never goes anywhere without an audience. Perhaps you were right to be paranoid about him.

Natasha is still standing there when you blink yourself back to the garden, watching you with an unreadable expression. You straighten your holey, vintage t-shirt under your leather jacket and stand, not enjoying the power difference with her standing above you. You wish Bucky had taken you with him, even though you didn’t particularly want to watch Steve throw up everywhere. It would be preferable to being stuck under Natasha’s x-ray vision, though.

“I like your boots,” she says. It takes you aback - such a typical girl thing to say at a party to someone you don’t know, and Natasha doesn’t give you ‘typical’. You glance down at your Docs, and then back up at her pretty sundress with a sexy v-cut.  Sure you do, you think sarcastically, as you both stand there like night and day.

“Thanks,” you manage to say, “And again, for inviting me. The party’s been great.”

“Has it?” she asks, and why do you feel like she’s asking three questions at once? As if sensing your apprehension, she smiles and adds, “Just, I know we’re a bit full on and being the new girl at a party is always difficult.”

You blink, surprised once again. The sincerity throws you for a loop, as everything seems to with Natasha. You say, “I mean, yeah, but you guys are great. You all seem really close, it’s- nice. Like  a family.”

Something flashes in Natasha’s eyes, that amused little smirk returning to her face that fills your gut with dread. Was it something you said?

“Come on,” she says, and just as you think you can’t be surprised by this woman anymore, she winds her arm with yours and starts leading you back into the house. Throwing you a conspiratorial look you’re not sure you’ve earned, she says, “Let’s go find the boys. I’m sure Steve’s finished throwing up by now.”

Part Two

~~~~~ please let me know what you think!

[writingithink]

Improbable Multiversal Transcending Temporal Spacetime Event Pairing: Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Rated: T Word Count: 7,101 Summary: The best way to show someone you care is to blow up their job ... right? Notes: I'm back! And it's not a Tangled Timelines update (sorry!) But it is something? I've had this in my WIPs for awHILE now, and when I was cleaning my studio the other night I found a planning page for it in a random tote bag and was like ... oh yeah. And the ending just came to me and I love it when that happens. Hopefully there will be another chapter up for Tangled Timelines soon, though!

As always, infinite thanks to my wonderful beta, @hey-there-juliet​ who is fine with me randomly sending her fics at all hours and with no warning XP

All mistakes are mine, as always.

<<READ IT ON AO3>>

If the other him in the other universe had taken the time to imagine their human life together in a parallel universe, the Doctor doubted he would have pictured this. His imagination, when it came to Rose Tyler, was always quite whimsical. Happiness had made him impractical, really. Because despite all of the drawbacks, all of the reasons he currently loathed himself, the Doctor knew every single reason why the other truly felt like this was the best possible option.

But maybe it wasn’t.

Sometimes, despite it not occurring too often, he was wrong.

They had spent five and a half hours on the beach at Bad Wolf Bay.

(I create myself.)

She had been so upset; said that after everything they’d went through, everything she did to get back, the other him owed her a proper goodbye. She had stopped speaking to him when he told her that, actually, he would never give her a proper goodbye.

And she didn’t let him explain why. Now that he finally could.

Now it had been 57 days since she’d last spoken to him. Since he’d gotten more than a brief glimpse of her with his own eyes. That he’d spent piecing together a picture of what her life had been like here, without him. Such a short time, really, now that it was over (almost over), but yet also some of the worst moments of his entire existence.

It seemed fair that the multiverse would demand just that extra sequence of pain, considering everything he could potentially get in return. What another version of himself could only hope for, bitterly gambling eternities, following their timeline through all of it’s complicated swirls and turns, names weaving around each other, stamping themselves on the structure of creation.

Forever isn’t something that ends.

(How long are you going to stay with me?)

Quite the opposite, actually. And he knew, eventually, she would remember that. Knew it, but didn’t feel it.

The Doctor finally understood what all of the human writers meant about falling in love. Not just the terrifying sensation of the unstoppable freefall, but also the immense pain of crashing into the immovable object at the end of the journey.

They had sat on opposite ends of a Zeppelin. He had gone back to the Tyler Manor with Jackie, and Rose had gone back to her flat. Hoping to see her, talk to her, he had immediately joined Torchwood (once they agreed to his very detailed, highly specific, entirely ironclad contract). Their paths rarely crossed, and when they did it was just tiny, insubstantial moments.

A flash of her at the far end of a hall. Her name in a report (a lot of reports). Snatches of her voice, there one moment and gone the next.

It all made everything hurt so much more, somehow, having her so close but yet further than he could have possibly imagined.

But yet …

His imagination, when it came to Rose Tyler, was still quite whimsical. So when he tried to think of the bigger picture, waxing poetic, alone on his office couch, the Doctor tried to look at the last few years as the impact, and this as the aftershock. Still, philosophical jaunts weren’t exactly a solution to his problem. A temporary solution was moving his office even further away, so that’s what he did. 

Plus, he found it kind of fitting, commandeering the inside of Big Ben. UNIT may have it in the prime universe, but in this universe he had the fancy landmark office. Well, office-slash-home (without Rose Tyler, a proper house with doors and things was absolutely unthinkable). Not that it was just about having a private laugh. The gears soothed him, the sound of ticking helped the gnawing emptiness that had filled his mind ever since the TARDIS dematerialized without him in it. The Doctor had thought it was kind of fitting - the closest he could possibly be right now to time.

Not that he wasn’t spending every possible spare moment working on the baby TARDIS, just a tiny piece of coral still, currently sitting in the extended electro-percussive environment chamber. He wondered if, in three years (his best-possible projected timetable), when the new TARDIS would be ready for flight, she would still not be speaking to him.

Incidentally, the emergence of that thought and the start of his supposed ‘self-isolation’ coincided to an alarming degree for how coincidental the two really were. The fact of the matter was, he was busy. Tons of experiments to run, alien equipment to identify, classify (and more often than not remove from Torchwood entirely), a baby TARDIS to tend to, and a backlog of Rose’s mission reports to hack into made spending slightly over three weeks in his tower easy.

The problem was the fact that during that time the Doctor avoided sleeping, barely remembered to eat, and existed on overly sugared tea alone. Not sleeping didn’t put the demons at bay, but at least when he was awake he wasn’t forced to confront the man he never wanted to remember being.

It had been 57 days since Rose Tyler had last spoken to him, and the Doctor detonated a bomb in the abandoned annex Torchwood had scheduled to be demolished and rebuilt.

Then the counter reset to zero.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” she yelled, barging into the top floor lab where he had been checking the readings on the EEPEC.

Everything that he wanted to say to her, and the Doctor was struck mute.

“Whatever plans you think you have, however good of an idea it is, for the good of the planet or, or the galaxy or what, you don’t just go blowing up buildings without a word to anyone! Do you know that everyone else was too scared to come up here and have a word with you, because that highly confidential ridiculous contract you drew up made its way through the gossips and isn’t so classified anymore. Now no one wants to go toe to toe with the man who ‘speaks for the planet’,” Rose growled through the air quotes. “So tell me, Doctor, what genius reason you’ve got for blowing up the Records Annex?”

A slow smile spread across his face.

“It worked.”

“What?”

“Remember ‘run’?” he asked, bouncing away from the baby TARDIS and circling her, picking up his new sonic screwdriver as he did and deadlock sealing the only door off the floor.

“Run?” she frowned as he circled back.

“Run,” he whispered in her ear as he passed, running up a small set of stairs to flip a giant switch that activated the clock-lights outside of their automated timer. Likely no one noticed outside with the sun still out, but it lit up the lab. “Henrik’s basement, Nestene Consciousness, shop window dummies, you and me. How did that night end?” he asked, with a manic grin as he skidded to a stop in front of her.

“Oh, that ‘run’,” Rose breathed, trying to fight back a smile. “You blew up my job.”

“I blew up your job.”

She huffed, blowing her bangs out of her eyes, and crossed her arms. His shoulders fell, exhaustion pressing down onto each and every bone of his new, much more fragile body.

“I just want to talk,” he told her, only a moment away from begging.

“Alright then. Talk.”

Everything he wanted to say to her, and all of it felt disjointed in his overtired mind. Yet she was here now, and if she left he didn’t have a new idea for getting her back again. So he talked.

“I’m sorry. That I made this choice for you, even if it was technically a different me who did it. I’m sorry that this is the best option, the safest option. I’m sorry I never got the chance to explain everything to you before. But I am never going to say goodbye to you, Rose. Never. And I know that the power of words doesn’t translate as well for you, the science of psycho-kinetic-telepathic influence on the elements of creation. But there are some things I can never risk saying aloud. There are some beings that exist, at least in our original universe, that could easily- … still, no matter what universe we’re in, I’m never going to say it. Forever, Rose Tyler. It’s longer than you can comprehend. An eternal silence stretching infinitely ahead, timelines swirling in every direction. This one is ours, if you’ll- if you could just- if you could see in twenty-odd dimensions and focused on individual temporal waveforms, the quantum reality of specific-”

“Doctor!” she shouted when his legs gave out, immediately grabbing hold of him, joining him on the floor.

“I’m fine,” he insisted, but when he moved to get back up she easily held him down. Rose gently manipulated his face, giving him a basic medical check. He couldn’t help but smile a little at how much she had learned while they were away, only to then frown at how hard he imagined it all must have been for her. Floundering, he tried to make a joke. “So, I’m still the Doctor?”

Which went ignored.

“You look like a wreck,” she told him, and it wasn’t new information. The Doctor now made much more frequent trips to the restroom and was well aware of how pale he was, of the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. He had at least been making a disjointed effort to shave, which was another activity that had increased with his meta crisis, and admittedly it had slipped his mind for a couple days.

“It’s not easy, doing this without you,” he admitted. “But if you need more time, I want you to take it. I really am alright. There’s just so much I need to tell you, now that I can.”

“What do you mean, ‘now that you can’?”

“Different universe, firm walls in between. I don’t have to worry about using the wrong words at the wrong time and having cosmic consequences … for a lot of things, not all things. With our timeline in a different dimension and reality back as it should be, at least for the moment, I can tell you all sorts of things. Though the most important one, the one I’m never going to miss an opportunity to say, is that I love you, Rose Tyler. Forever.”

“I love you, too,” she sighed, caressing his cheek for a moment before helping him up. “But I’m still mad at you. Now you need sleep.”

“But I’m not done talking,” the Doctor complained, dragging his feet as she led him over to the sofa in the corner.

“We’ll talk more after you’ve gotten some rest, okay? I promise.”

“Thank you,” he sighed, more horizontal than he remembered being just a moment ago. Something soft and warm ensconced his body. He hadn’t realized how cold he had been until just then.

Another breath and black oblivion overtook him. Peaceful until it suddenly very much wasn’t. 

A shockwave. A rift in time and space. A breached void. A crack in reality. A big red button. No more. Howling, howling, howling.

“Wake up!”

His eyes snapped open.

He didn’t know where he was. Nothing felt right; not the air, not time, not even his own body. The Doctor tried to do a quick systems check, and the results were all wrong. His hand flew to his chest, where only one heart was beating.

A choking scream echoed through the space, which seemed to be tick tick ticking, and he didn’t realize that it was him who shouted until soothing hands were brushing through his hair. Vision focusing, he saw Rose Tyler kneeling next to him, or at least it was something that looked like Rose Tyler. She felt too cool. Or maybe he was too warm.

“Are you real?” he asked, hoping that she wouldn’t lie to him.

Just one heart working, and it was beating too fast, refusing to slow down. The air was too thick, he couldn’t breathe.

“Yeah.” A sad smile. “I’m real.”

The Doctor didn’t know if he believed her, closing his eyes so that he wouldn’t have to see the moment she inevitably vanished. “I’m dying,” he told the being-who-might-be-Rose as he shuddered and collapsed back onto some sort of sofa.

“You’re fine,” she lied, but it was a lie she seemed to believe.

“Only got one heart beating,” he admitted, trying to get his breathing under control as his malfunctioning body began to sweat. The room ticked away, and he wondered if all of this was about to explode, if he should be running, if he even could run. His legs felt like lead. So did his arms. The air was too thick, dragging him down.

“That’s-”

The Doctor shut his eyes tighter, tears escaping that he hadn’t even realized were there. She must have vanished, just like he knew she would. And if she was never real to begin with, why did it have to hurt so much for her to go?

A weight rested on top of him, and he would never forget the feel of her. He vaguely wondered what it meant for him, to be having tactile hallucinations. Olfactory hallucinations. Even the buzz of time that had never left her skin after she took in the vortex was present.

“You’ve still got two beating,” Rose whispered as his arms wrapped around her in a tight hold that didn’t feel nearly strong enough to keep her. He wasn’t strong enough to keep her.

Her heart beat steadily over where his right heart had failed.

“I’m scared,” the Doctor admitted, eyes still closed though it was oddly easier to breathe.

“I’ve got you.”

“Please be real,” he whimpered, even as his mind grew foggier.

She said something, but he didn’t know what. Everything was fading away, darkness becoming darker, becoming void.

Nothing.

The Doctor awoke alone on the couch in his office. According to his time sense, he had slept for eighteen hours and twenty-one minutes. He felt better than he had in weeks, but also so much worse. He grabbed his pillow and screamed into it.

“What’s wrong now?”

The pillow dropped from his hands and his eyes locked with Rose’s as she raced up the slight stair onto the platform that separated his primary workspace from the rest of the top floor.

“What?” His voice cracked.

Rose Tyler sat next to him on the couch, hand immediately resting on his forehead, primitively gauging his temperature. The Doctor cleared his throat before trying again.

“Rose, what are you doing here? Not that I’m not glad, I’m so very, very glad you’ve come.” Her hand dropped away and he was able to get a good look at her, dressed in a pair of his boxers and one of his shirts (Jackie had bought him a ridiculous amount of clothes before he left the manor, all of which he sent out to be cleaned). He swallowed audibly. “W-why are you wearing my clothes?”

“‘M locked in here. Door’s deadlock sealed.”

Flashes of memories began to speed through him. Attaching a re-calibrated Tziklian implosion grenade to a newly-repaired retroreflective Clishtahrr drone. Obsessively trying to circumvent his vision in order to peer at his own timeline, making himself sick. A contained rift event in the lower levels of the tower that made him feel like he had looked into the untempered schism again.

(Run, run, run!)

“I’m sorry. I don’t … I’ll just …”

He pushed himself up onto unsteady legs, found his sonic screwdriver and unsealed the door. And he wished he hadn’t trapped her with him, even if he was starting to remember why (inky black terror crawling up his spine, wrong universe, wrong universe, wrong universe).

“Do you remember what happened yesterday?” she asked, following him as he went to check the TARDIS on autopilot, looking as if she was worried he would collapse (again).

“It’s coming back to me,” the Doctor admitted. Still had a good four hours to go before the shatterfry process would be complete. He straightened his shoulders, trying to stand tall as he turned to face her. “Things got a little, uhm, unpleasant. I’ll do better.”

“Unpleasant,” Rose scoffed. “I’m pretty sure you had a bleedin’ breakdown!”

“It’s been a difficult regeneration,” he deflected, turning away, leaving the platform and making a beeline to the tiny kitchenette tucked off to the side. Tea. He just needed more tea.

“So, this how it’s gonna be, then? All that stuff about wanting to talk, but now you’re just done?”

He nearly spilled the kettle with the speed of his turn, brows furrowed and mouth falling open. “What? Of course I want to talk!” the Doctor exclaimed. “Just, er, what did I say? Before?”

Memory was still a bit of a blur. Successful energy funnel for the TARDIS’ growth tank. Vodka tasting different in a universe without potatoes. Reports saying: Correct universe. Wrong time - past. No contact.

“You don’t remember?”

“I said it was coming back to me, it’s just not coming in the right order.” he sighed, refocusing on the tea.

“Well, what’s the last thing that you vividly remember?” Rose asked, moving around him, easily finding mugs and sugar and milk.

“Thirteen days ago, creating a temporal disruption chrono-field manipulator. Needed to siphon rift energy for our TARDIS. She needs a very specific growth environment.”

“Thirteen days?! Wait, siphoning the-” She leaned against the tiny countertop and covered her face with her hands. The only sound for a few moments was of the electric kettle quickly boiling the water. “Our TARDIS?”

“If you want,” the Doctor muttered, lifting a hand, wanting to touch her, but then thinking better of it. He clenched his fist as it dropped to his side.

Rose groaned as she turned back to him. “Of course I want that, you daft alien git! But you don’t exactly make things easy, do ya? I spent years getting back to you, and then suddenly there’s two of you and one of you abandons me just like I was always afraid of, but one of you stays and I’m expected to be able to process any of it? And then for weeks it’s an effort just to give myself space, knowing that wherever I go you’re so close, part of me wondering why I’m even trying to stay away when all I wanted for ages was to be back with you. Then suddenly you’re gone! I still know where you are, but there isn’t a chance that I’d actually run into you. And I still don’t know what to feel, but coming here yesterday, seeing you … I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so broken.” There were tears in her eyes. His nails dug into his palms with the effort it took not to wrap his arms around her, to wipe them away. “I can’t help but feel like it’s my fault.”

“It’s not. It’s my own fault. You haven’t done a single thing wrong,” he assured her.

“That’s not true and you know it,” she tried to laugh, but it came out watery. “I’ve been an absolute cow. And I still haven’t answered your question. You’d said some things about words being a type of science, and that you could say things here that you couldn’t in the other universe. Like you were paranoid, under surveillance or something? I think you tried to describe how your time sense stuff works, but you almost fainted.”

“Fifty-seven days without you and that’s what I was talking about?” The Doctor grimaced.

The kettle clicked off.

“If it makes you feel better, it was kinda romantic. The stuff about not saying goodbye and forever and blowing up my job.”

“Blowing up your what?!”

“That’s why I had to come here. You blew up the old Records Annex.”

“Riiiiight. That explains the drone bomb. It’s not like they weren’t going to blow it up anyway. Didn’t I help?”

Rose rolled her eyes before moving to fix both their teas. “We’ll get into that later. Right now I don’t even want to talk about us. I wanna know about you, what you’ve been doing these past two months. Because I didn’t even stop to think what this all must be like for you.”

Cuppa in hand, the Doctor led her back to the couch as he tried to think of how best to explain something that he barely understood himself.

“I was created in a two-way human-Time Lord instant biological meta crisis. Hundreds of years as one being, then suddenly two. Exact same mind, almost the exact same body, but different enough that I can barely comprehend existing in it. If you remember, the first forty-eight hours of the regeneration cycle are complicated and dangerous. Barely a few hours into mine I was dropped outside of the prime universe that all Gallifreyans are meant to exist in, cut off from all telepathic contact as the walls of reality continued to sway, slowly falling back into place. It’s been … an adjustment. Sometimes things don’t feel real, even when they are. Sometimes things feel incredibly real, even when they aren’t.”

“You had a nightmare,” Rose told him, placing a hand on his shoulder, thumb rubbing soothing circles through his layers. “I woke you up, tried to help. You didn’t think I was real. You thought you were dying, because you only had one heart.”

He tried to smile, and the action felt painful. “Sounds about right.”

“I’m sorry. If I hadn’t been so selfish-”

“There’s nothing for you to apologize for. I want you to put yourself first.”

“But I can’t stand seeing you in pain like this. What can I do to help?” she asked, a desperation in her eyes that he couldn’t bear.

“You’re already helping,” the Doctor sighed, finally giving in and leaning into her touch, lying his head on her shoulder. It was the closest he’d felt to time since they’d been left on that bloody beach.

Memories were still racing through his head. Energy coils radiating artron energy into a centrifuge. The smell of burnt flesh against the remains of a Bverni navigational system. Reports saying: Correct universe. Wrong time - future. No contact.

“The other Doctor said that you needed me.”

He laughed, but there was no humor in it.

“Yes, because he needs you. He also said that I was dangerous. I am. He is. We are. But you already knew that. It’s easy, you know, to yell at yourself. Not often that there’s actually a separate you there to yell at. I destroyed the Daleks, but we’d already done that before we met. In fact, so did you. The other me was lashing out, knowing what he would have to do but not wanting to do it.”

“That’s another thing,” Rose said, moving to face him, dislodging his head, “you said that us being here, in this universe, was the best, safest option. What was that about?”

“Something’s coming. Has come. Ended and began. There’s a massive paradox surrounding me in the other universe. Incredibly dangerous, potentially catastrophic. All I know is that it has something to do with a woman named River Song who claims to be my wife.”

“Your wife?!”

“I said claims. And she did seem to be telling the truth, besides the fact that what she was saying was entirely preposterous. My soul is entirely bound to yours.” The Doctor took her hand and squeezed it. “So I think I have an idea of the kind of man I’ll have to become in order to keep the universe intact.”

“What’s that?”

“A liar. If she is going to believe that I could possibly join myself to someone else, someone who isn’t you, I’m going to have to lie. I’m going to have to forget. I’m going to have to lie so well and for so long that even I believe the fiction I’ve created for myself.”

He wondered what the other him in the other universe would think, then, whenever he caught a rare glimpse at their timeline surrounded in gold, bound with Rose’s for all eternity. What kind of explanation he would craft. The Doctor shuddered.

“But that sounds horrible!” she cried.

“It’s the sacrifice he’s making for the sake of the universe. My timeline is dangerous and someone, something is tampering with it. You and I made one tiny little paradox and it almost destroyed everything. This one is circular, might be able to be maintained, but the scale of it, Rose. And who knows if it will even work. River seems great and all, at least I hope so, but I don’t think she has much of a handle on time travel. That, or she’s a manipulative psychopath. Suppose that’s a surprise for the other me to find out.”

Rose sniffled and he pulled her into a hug.

“He’s going to be all alone.” The words were muffled into his shoulder, his shirt growing damp with her tears. He cringed and tried to think rationally, that of course she would feel this way, that it had nothing to do with how she felt about him him. But then again, maybe it did.

“He won’t be alone. He’ll find someone. I always do, eventually.”

“B-but I-”

“We’ll figure it out. How to get you back there, once it’s safe,” he whispered into the top of her head. Maybe that would be it- what she needed this him for. And if so, it would be enough. It would have to be enough.

“Really?”

The Doctor nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“So it’s not- you really weren’t abandoning me here?” Rose lifted her head, eyes brimming with a hope that had been missing before.

“Never.” The word felt as if it was torn out of his very being.

She cupped his cheek, stubble beginning to smooth out into the beginnings of a beard. He really needed to shave.

“I thought you said to never say never ever?”

“That was before.”

It occurred to him that he had tea, so he took a sip - it had gone cold.

“Oh, right, all the, uhm, psychic-kinetic-telepathy science stuff.”

He opened his mouth to correct her - she was very close, though - but was interrupted by the ringing of the giant clock. It was heavily muffled by the sound proofing adjustments he had made while setting up the office, but still audible enough.

“It’s eight now, yeah?” Rose asked, even as she moved away.

“Yes.”

She walked over to his desk, where the Doctor now noticed a pile of her folded clothes sat. He frowned when she brought them over to him.

“Do you think you could sonic these clean for me? I’m gonna quick hop into your decontamination shower.”

“Th- there’s a proper shower, it’s two floors down. First left, third right, door marked ‘Security Level Alpha’.”

“What, really?”

“Didn’t want random lab techs using it. Has a retina scan. It’ll let you in.”

Rose laughed, ruffled his hair, and gave him a kiss on the cheek before disappearing to get ready for work. The whole thing left him confused. He went through his list again, checking and double checking to make sure that this all was real . It was, just as it had been all morning.

More memories. Recalibrating the tower’s new sub-basement weapon’s vault. Burnt toast and no more jam left. Reports saying: Correct universe. Wrong time - future. Contact made.

It wasn’t fair that she had spent almost an entire day with him yet he had missed most of it. Still, he sonicked her clothes, as well as his tea. Finished his cuppa, and then had a second before Rose came back from her shower.

“Why’s there no one around?”

“Dangerous radiation leak,” the Doctor shrugged. “I fixed it almost as soon as it happened, but apparently there’s ‘procedures’. How’d you get in?”

She bit her lip, fighting a smile. “Mighta shot a few of your doors,” Rose admitted, picking up an electro-pulse blaster off of a nearby cart. Non-lethal on organic matter. Very effective on fancy doors. “Nobody told me anything about a radiation leak, though.”

“Classified radiation leak.”

“And why’s that?” she scowled, hands on her hips.

“Everything to do with time travel is classified to this office. Bethany is not being very cooperative about putting you down as a liaison-whatever. Please believe me, I wasn’t trying to keep anything a secret.”

“Oh.” Rose glanced over at the EEPEC, absently biting her thumbnail.

The Doctor didn’t know what she was thinking, didn’t know if he should ask. After a moment she disappeared into the loo to change, promising to be back in a tick.

It was a funny multiverse, really, that his reunion with Rose Tyler would be such a stilted thing. That it would be about him and her, but not this him. Acknowledged with a few questions after his health, sure, but that was just polite. She’d always been compassionate, caring for others. Rose didn’t see him as the Doctor. Not the proper one. Sure, she used his name, but it would be easier for her to do that this time around.

He looked just like him.

He was him.

But he wasn’t.

Memories were still coming. Adjustments to Torchwood’s alien tech retrieval protocols. Nutrition shots. Reports reading: Correct universe. Wrong time - past. Contact made.

He went through the list again. Still real.

Unless it wasn’t.

Unless he wasn’t.

What would have stopped the other Doctor from knocking him out and uploading him into a matrix? Giving him a half-life with a programmed Rose Tyler?

The air here felt wrong.

(Wrong universe. Wrong universe. Wrong universe.)

“Doctor!”

(Daleks exploding. “What have you done?!”)

Pressure against his hands. Why was it so dark?

The Doctor opened his eyes to see Rose in front of him, pulling his fingers away from his palms. Oh. He was bleeding. Hadn’t even noticed.

“Sorry, sorry.” He spun away from her in order to grab the first aid kit from his desk.

“What happened?” she asked, vibrating with barely contained panic.

“Nothing, nothing. Things just got jumbled for a second,” he assured her, efficiently cleaning his palms and wrapping them in gauze in a practiced motion.

“How often do you-”

“Hard to say. I’ve been graphing them. Seems to be stress contingent, but generally decreasing. My senses are gradually acclimating to this universe, so I have to hope that once they do, I’ll be fine. Perfect. Molto bene. No inconvenient lapses.”

“Stress? What h- oh.”

He didn’t like the sound of that ‘oh’. The Doctor clenched his jaw before facing her.

“We still haven’t talked about us,” Rose pointed out, approaching him slowly. Like he was a wild animal. Like he would hurt her. “And you … you don’t really remember yesterday still, do you?”

“Not really.”

His hands hurt. His body ached. One heart, and it was beating so quickly that he was sure it would give out.

Rose wrapped her arms around him and he automatically returned the embrace.

“Maybe I should just call in,” she suggested as she pulled away. “We can just take the day?”

“Or don’t and stay anyway,” the Doctor couldn’t help pointing out. “Some bits have come back, and didn’t they send you here?”

She burst into laughter. “Oh my god, they did!”

And it was beyond words, how great it was to hear her laughing again. To see her smiling.

But …

That was wrong.

Rose was upset with him.

Time didn’t feel right.

The air tasted off.

Wrong Universe. Wrong Universe. Wrong Universe.

The Doctor staggered backwards.

His respiratory bypass was malfunctioning. It was like it wasn’t even there. He couldn’t get air into his lungs.

Everything went black.

There was a shot of gold, and then a different kind of black.

“Doctor,” said a whisper in the dark. “The timer went off for the TARDIS. ‘M I supposed to take her out of that thing?”

A TARDIS timer?

TARDIS … timer …

The timer for the extended electro-percussive environment chamber!!!

The Doctor shot up from where he had apparently been lying on the couch and ran over to the EEPEC, swiftly shut it off, removed the tank housing their baby TARDIS, and then poured in the pre-prepared aqueous nutrient solution before inserting the tank into the quasi-dimensional artron chamber (currently set to it’s highest opacity setting). 

“Hah!” he exclaimed, punching his fist in the air and itching to switch the chamber’s outside view settings to transparent. He turned to Rose, opened his mouth to ask her, and then paused.

It all came back to him, all of it, not just the jumbled recollections he had been getting earlier. Apparently he had fallen into a healing coma, and it seems to have been just what he needed … but it all truly hadn’t been fair to Rose. Though, to be fair, she was currently smiling like it was Christmas, so-

Christmas. Healing comas. 

Huh.

“Shall we switch it to transparent?” the Doctor asked, unable to reign himself in any longer. “It was clear when Benny - quite the coincidence, right? - helped me set it up. This is a quasi-dimensional artron chamber. It’s funnelling in rift energy and centrifuging artron particles, and the end result in that chamber is the specific environment needed to properly grow a TARDIS. Well, along with the chrono-nutritio aqueous habitat. Benny describes looking into it as being similar to taking DMT, which, by the way, is completely inaccurate. It’s exactly like looking into an Eye of Harmony. If it’s malfunctioning, it’s like looking into the untempered schism, which I don’t recommend. But everything’s stable now, we could-”

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to look into the vortex?” Rose interrupted, and …

“Right … erm, well ,” he hedged, scratching the back of his neck, “I mean, it isn’t actually the vortex, but you’re probably not completely wrong. Best not risk it.”

Excitement abating, the Doctor slumped against the chamber and at that moment realized that he had been changed into jim jams.

Jim jams. Healing comas.

Huh.

At least these were his own pajamas, and not some ‘friend’ of Jackie’s, though how strange was it that he owned his own pajamas in the first place?

“C’mere,” Rose said, beckoning him back toward the couch, which she was sitting next to, but not on. Not your typical decision, but he had likely taken up all of the space earlier. “I made you some tea.”

It really wasn’t worth it, cataloguing the similarities between this and when he had first regenerated into this body … even though the list did seem to be growing.

“Perfect! Just what I need!” the Doctor smiled as he walked over, taking a seat next to Rose on the floor.

Silence fell as he sipped his tea, and he found himself unsure of what to do or say next. There was too much to say, and he’d certainly done a piss poor job of organizing his thoughts earlier. 

“Feeling better?” she asked, after another moment. 

Small talk. He could definitely do small talk.

“Mmm yes, very much so.”

“Better enough to talk?”

The Doctor coughed, having swallowed his tea incorrectly (bloody hybrid body, still acting up), before nodding. Rose moved onto the couch and he scrambled to join her. 

“So,” she began and paused, face scrunching up in concentration (it was nice to know that he wasn’t the only one who found this whole business incredibly awkward), “I guess … what is it that you actually want? Aside from a working TARDIS, that is.”

His brows furrowed.

Sure, there were plenty of ways he could answer that question and have all of them be true, but he had a feeling that she was looking for a specific type of ‘want’. 

Problem was, the Doctor wasn’t quite sure what that was .

“What?” he asked, in lieu of any better things to say (as the runner up response was to ask for some jam, or maybe a banana, or some of the takeaway from the shop down the corner and blimey, he was hungry). 

“This whole time, all of it, since you c- since you were- since you stopped just bein’ a hand- ” the Doctor had a list of complaints and corrections that he barely held in “- nobody’s asked what you wanted. The D- the other Doctor chose for both of us, really, and I hadn’t really looked at it that way before. An’ I wanna know. What do you want?”

Removed from the actual experience itself (and therefore not feeling incredibly, deathly ill), visions of the slight peek he’d gotten four days ago of his own timeline played in his head.

The Doctor grabbed Rose’s hand, weaving their fingers together.

“I want this.”

She smiled and gave his hand a squeeze.

“Care to elaborate?” she asked with a slight laugh.

“Nope,” he replied, popping the ‘p’. “Because as long as you’re happy, everything else is just- just semantics. I mean, obviously it’s going to be a bit dull until the TARDIS has grown enough for proper travel, but I think we can make do?” At least, he really hoped so. It hadn’t been going swimmingly so far, but the Doctor sincerely hoped that he could chalk all that up to the initial side effects of the meta crisis, compounded by all of the, er … technical difficulties he had run into while constructing the TARDIS’ growth tank. Also, his new hybrid body needed much more maintenance than he was used to, including sleep. Really was rubbish without regular sleep. Such a waste of time.

“So, if I were to suggest you moving into the flat?”

He opened his mouth, intending to immediately agree, but then frowned. The TARDIS was here, after all. And he absolutely could not move her. Not at this stage. Not until she could connect to other dimensions on her own. The Doctor looked over at the quasi-dimensional artron chamber, once again wishing that he could switch it to transparent and watch the process unfold.

“How moved in is moved in?” he asked once he forced himself to turn back toward Rose.

“You’d sleep there, shower there, eat some of your meals. Most of your clothes an’ stuff would be there. Y’know. It’d be where you live. With me. If you want.”

“And that’s what you want?” he double checked, trying not to telegraph his surprise - he must have missed a lot while in a coma, as last he knew they were teetering on the edge of a row.

Rose rolled her eyes, and that was much more in line with where he thought they were at, er, relationship-wise.

“Well, I don’t fancy living in a clocktower office. When I’m done working, I’d like to not still be at work, ta.”

She did make some excellent points … but still, it all implied that they would be staying together. And that was what he wanted, of course it was, but the Doctor still couldn’t help but feel he had missed something crucial despite the fact that he could now remember everything clearly.

“You blew up my job. ”

“I love you, too. But I’m still mad at you.”

“You’ve still got two beating.”

Maybe there wasn’t something to have missed. Human emotions were relatively complex, after all, and there was no rule requiring them to happen in isolation.

“Are you still mad at me?” he asked, realizing as he did that to Rose it was coming from seemingly out of nowhere.

This was confirmed as she blinked, brows furrowing.

“I don’t know. Maybe a little, but …”

“But?” the Doctor repeated, unable to stand the suspense.

“It’s hardly the first time we’ve had a fight, yeah?”

He nodded, unsure of where she was planning on going with this and hoping that he wouldn’t need to begin apologizing for every insensitive thing he’d said or done since they first met. It would take ages.

“Well, we always end up workin’ it out. And we did live together, travelin’ on the TARDIS, whether we had a row or not, so …” Rose shrugged, now examining her fingernails.

Speaking of the TARDIS, though …

“First things first,” the Doctor began, rubbing the back of his neck as he stood up and began pacing, “I want it on record that I would absolutely love to live in a flat with you, with carpets and doors and things. Assuming we’d spend much of our time traveling about, that is.” He turned back toward her, having paced his way back over to the TARDIS’ QDA chamber. “The thing is, it’s … I don’t want you to think that- the TARDIS. She needs me here. This is a critical development period. For the next three to six months, the TARDIS will be growing in the chamber, learning how to connect to and create dimensions. Until she can manage it, I can’t move her and she requires near-constant monitoring. Every hour or two.” 

“She’s like a newborn baby,” Rose commented, getting up and joining him at the chamber, where she stroked the side.

“Exactly.”

“Well, I suppose this’ll have to do then,” she reluctantly … agreed? “As long as we’re living in the flat as soon as she’s moveable, mind. The bathroom here is two floors away.”

“It’s a clocktower, Rose! There’s only so much space.” The Doctor scrunched up his face as he said the word. 

“Then why’d you pick this place? I know because of the Rift, but doesn’t it stretch further than just the tower?”

“Nope,” he shrugged.

It’s not as though he hadn’t checked. 

“Really?”

“Small rift.”

“Yeah,” Rose laughed, “a small rift right under Big Ben.”

The Doctor laughed with her, amazed that he finally could.

Then he frowned.

It was all a little too good to be true.

Was this real?

“Hey.”

He refocused. Rose was right in front of him, their eyes locked.

“You were getting that look in your eyes,” she informed him.

“Look? What look?” the Doctor asked, though he was pretty sure he already knew. Some sort of dazed tell, some sort of glaringly obvious indicator that his grasp on reality was failing him.

“This look you get when you start thinkin’ you’re in the wrong universe.”

Wrong universe, wrong universe, wrong universe.

“Well, I am in the wrong universe,” he couldn’t help but point out.

“Yeah, I know. Me too. But y’know what?”

Rose wrapped her arms around him, and it was almost as if she were his tether, grounding him to this new reality they’d found themselves in.

“It’s better with two.”

[airi-p4]

While it lasts

This was supposed to be kind of a S4 theory about akumatized Luka + a canon-verse Lukanette approach. I guess my hand slipped?  This is similar to my previous fic ‘Betrayer’, in which Juleka was the akumatized one. 

Warning: ANGST.

AO3 _________________________

"Jagged Stone is your father" Anarka had just told her twin children.

Luka's world was shattered into pieces.

Jagged Stone. His favorite musician. His inspiration. His mother's old music partner.

Their father.

One word occupies his mind: abandoned.

And the image of him takes a 180 degree turn. From admiration to despise.

His idol abandoned him. Him and his sister. His mother too.

Why?

He hates it. He hates all of it.

He hates it so much, not even his girlfriend Marinette can calm him down like she usually does. Not even her sympathetic voice or her sweet heart melody can heal him. Neither could her hand pressed on his in comfort.

Juleka's mind had gone blank for some seconds. Memories of how fond Luka was of Jagged Stone occupying her mind. 'Cool', she thinks, and then she focuses on her brother, who is clearly in shock.

In silence. In a trance.

He can't hear anything anymore, she realizes, after noticing how he isn't paying attention to either Marinette's, her mother's or her own calls.

His heart song is strident, loud, noisy- And his eyes lose all his light, all his kindness too.

'Abandoned'

This word keeps spiraling in his mind. On repeat. In an infinite loop.

"Luka!" He hears Marinette's voice call him in alert, finally making him snap out of it and find the strength to fight the akuma that just entered his guitar.

“Marinette… Don’t abandon me…” he begs, holding her while fighting not to lose control and fall under Shadow Moth's control.

“I won’t”, she assures him, clearly supporting him. She keeps encouraging him not to fall into the darkness of the dark butterfly.

Her melody is sincere. So sincere she can’t hide her still unburied feelings for certain blond hair and green eyes that make her heart flutter. And he can see it: the moment that is bound to happen, the moment Marinette will break up with him to go to Adrien. The moment all walls separating them will collapse and they will meet each other in the tangled maze of secrets they’re currently trapped in. The crumble of the castle that allowed him the miracle to have her by his side at this moment.

“You won’t” he whispers, feeling his biggest fear close: Silence- loneliness.

Abandoned.

His arms tighten around her, holding her even closer, impeding her from moving. He pulls her so close he's even hurting her a little. Marinette slightly protests in a cry, but she’s more emotionally affected than physically. "Luka-!"

She's scared.

She wants to assure him she’s honest. She wishes to be able to give him all her love, her existence-

And his newly appeared akuma form is willing to take it all.

His guitar is now a big fish net, his body has grown 3 times bigger and his looks are similar to a sea God. ‘Glaucus’, he calls himself. The name of the God of the fishermen in Greek mythology. His hair is longer, and his belly has become a transparent fish tank, where he plans to keep his loved ones, both safe and close so they don’t abandon him.

Punishment for the ones who abandon, lie and betray.

Protection for the loved ones.

'Justice', he calls it.

He doesn’t even need a big fish tank, because his loved ones are limited. A countable number of individuals is enough for him: Marinette, his mother, his twin sister, the rest of Kitty Section… Mylène too, maybe, since he would feel bad for Ivan if he left her out of it. And he would consider Marinette's family too, since he knows how much she appreciates them.

As for punishment? It's also clear: Jagged Stone comes first, followed by Lila Rossi among others who have dared to hurt his loved ones, such as Chloe Bourgeois and Bob Roth.

Marinette trembles at the vision after he finally lets her go of her to grab his fish catching instrument. A tear escapes her eye, and slides to fall from her chin. And then she runs: because that’s the only way she can help him: run, transform, defeat him and fix the damage she will fight to prevent from happening.

But she's ignoring the most important fact. The fact that that's exactly the action which will lead to her down fall, the sight that frightens Luka the most: Marinette turning her back to him, leaving him all alone.

His song abandoning him.

Rage, pain and despair fills his heart, unable to be contained with his meditation or her music. The music he himself turned into a loud mess, sounding just like nails scraping on a chalkboard, painful to his ears and his soul.

And that’s when he traps her, his net capturing her and turning her into a small, bright pink colored mermaid, he literally swallows to get her inside the fish tank he carries inside his transparent glass made belly.

A relieved sigh leaving his throat: Marinette is now secured. She won't leave his side again. ‘Who’s next…?’ He questions himself, looking at his horrified mother, Anarka as he smirks. He'll soon have all of them in his treasured fish tank.

And what will happen to those who deserve punishment? Fish out of the water- dry fins gasping for oxygen. Dead fish with eyes as cold as their hearts. Or even better- Jagged is going to be abandoned on his own before that- just like he cold-heartedly abandoned him and his sister.

And now that he mentions it… 'Where's Juleka?'

The akuma looks for her, but he doesn't see her around. 'She can wait' he decides, his chants summoning a big sea wave to carry him to his unwanted father's hotel suite.

__________

Jagged Stone can't believe his eyes. An akuma claiming to be his son has just turned Penny into a goldfish, who is now struggling with tiny desperate jumps for oxygen to breathe through her newly acquired fins. Impossible without water. Fang is next to join Jagged's personal assistant, now tiny and convulsing.

"Who are you!? Why are you doing this!? I have no kids!! Don't lie!! Stop this! Turn them to their original forms! They could die!" The rock star angrily begs under Glaucus lashes.

"You're the one who is lying! My mother never lies, so you are the one lying when you say you have no children! You're the one who abandoned us!" He yells as angry as Jagged. "All the admiration and respect I had for you is now hate and disgust! You deserve punishment for the sake of Justice!"

"Stop right there, mermaid boy. Didn't we already make it clear what the difference between revenge and justice was when you were 'Silencer'?" Chat Noir joined the battle, protecting Jagged from being crushed under the akuma's weapon.

The akuma attacks again, but this time he's stopped by someone else. Someone Chat Noir brought along with him- a new superhero.

_______

During the time Marinette was trapped, Tikki, safe and sound, had carried a Miraculous to Juleka, who was watching terrified at how the events developed on TV. She was too focused to notice the kwami, but she clearly noticed the box that fell on her hand out of nowhere. Reaching it, she curiously opened it, and a magical creature appeared in front of her.

"Hi there! I'm Roarr. It's nice to meet you, Juleka!" The little tiger introduced himself.

"What are you? What's going on?" Juleka questioned.

"I'm a kwami. I grant powers! Put on that jewelry and call for the magical words to transform into a superhero"

"Me? A superhero like Ladybug? I don't think I can-" she nervously mumbled, unconfident.

"The guardian chose you for this mission! You want to save your brother, right?" Juleka nodded. "Then say the words: Roarr, transform me"

"Roarr, transform me" Juleka said, and magic surrounded her. Her new appearance was purple with tiger-like orange colored stripes over her body. Her mask was the same colors of the suit, and a pair of tiny ears decorated her now tied hair, her ponytail loose in the wind.

Moments later, she ran towards the hotel, unknowingly followed by Ladybug's kwami.

And the battle started.

________________

"Luka! I know you're hurt, but Jagged is telling the truth! He never abandoned u- you! He never knew he was a father! He probably doesn't even know by now!" The new hero desperately yelled.

"Lies! All lies! He deserves punishment! And you do too!" The akuma points at the heroes and Jagged who is hiding behind them.

"I'll show you the truth!" The tigress announces, calling for her superpower.

Her claws become shiny and with one touch, she marks an ‘X’ on Jagged's forehead, and a purple cloud comes out of his mouth and surrounds them, as if they had just entered his dreamland- except it's, in fact, the rock star’s memories.

Luka is in denial. It is true. Jagged Stone never knew about them. Which means he abandoned them unknowingly. Was he innocent, though?

No, he wasn’t. Because he had indeed abandoned his mother.

_______

Meanwhile, Marinette had been trying to find a way out of the fish tank. She couldn't transform into Ladybug even if Tikki was free, because that would make her identity public. She needed another plan.

That's when she asked Tikki to get Juleka the tiger Miraculous- and it had, once again, been the right choice.

Marinette couldn't just stay still,watching. She fought to find a way out.

Making use of the constant moving water, and with Anarka and Kitty Section's help, she found a way up, arriving to his heart. Or was it the akuma’s heart? It didn’t matter to her as long as she could save him.

The sight was not what she had expected: a vast sea surrounded by colorful stained glass with the people he cared the most portrayed on them. Anarka, Juleka and Kitty Section were there. Big, colorful and shining bright.

Marinette continued swimming in his inner tormented sea of darkness until she found another glass under a cliff: hers. It looked beautiful, but unreachable, since a rose garden guarded and protected it. Untouchable beauty.

Was this Luka's vision of her? A beautiful flower surrounded by thorns, with green stains on paint messing with the almost perfect piece of art’s balance and making it painful to watch?

Marientte felt her heart ache in guilt.

She knew she was the cause of the hurt in his eyes which he sometimes looked at her with. He had always seen through her, despite how much she had been starting to believe her own lies about ‘moving on’ and ‘love’.

Marinette shook her head: no time to waste. Cry later. Focus now.

Her tail brought her to a cliff island with a broken stained glass window next to it. The one that belonged to Jagged Stone, as his name was written on a rock. It most likely broke at the revelation of Jagged being Luka’s father, but now the window was pitch black, with the pieces scattered on the floor. Silent.

She could feel his fears of being abandoned in her own skin, and froze at the realization: his endurance and his strength were only there thanks to music. A music his heart lacked at the moment.

Music.

That's the answer. Music was what healed his heart. This time too, he needed music.

But what could she do without musical knowledge? Or without any instrument to play?

'My voice' she notices. ‘I still have my voice’

Marinette starts singing her own heart song as composed by Luka, while the battle outside continues, now with their visit to Jagged Stone's memories.

Perfect timing.

And clouds appear over Jagged's glass window, the wind carrying some pieces back to its original place- partly reconstructed.

Maybe the mermaid form had another purpose, Marinette wonders. Maybe Luka couldn't completely let go of music, after all, whether he was akumatized or not. Or maybe...

Back to present, Marinette sees a light up that lifts her out of Luka's insides. Next time she blinks, she has recovered her original appearance- clumsy human girl Marinette.

"Run!" Chat Noir commands, and she obeys. As she runs, she gazes back at Luka, who shows her a painfully sad smile.

"Marinette!" Her kwami calls her before she can give it deeper thought. "Tikki! Spots on!"

Moments later, Ladybug makes it to the battle. "Lucky charm!"

____________

The battle ends soon. Too soon, to Ladybug's surprise. ‘Why did he offer no resistance?’

She'll have time to think about this later. First… "Miraculous Ladybug!" Ladybug rushed to recover Juleka's Miraculous so they could go back to Luka as soon as possible.

"Thank you, Ladybug" Juleka says, running off to hug her brother.

Marinette detransforms next and soon reaches them too. But she hesitates again. Should she be by his side when she hurts him so much?

Luka meets her gaze and smiles softly, apologetically and embarrassed, but clearly welcoming her. And she doesn't hesitate anymore to join their collective hug, melting in love after a swirl of emotions. They part from the hug and they all focus on Jagged Stone who is still processing what happened.

"Wait a second- Are you really my children…? You thought I abandoned you…?” Jagged asks the twins, before turning his head to Anarka. “Why didn't you tell me? Weren't we partners? 'Rock-'n'-roll until the crocodile controls'. Remember?"

"You said you wanted to go solo. You left me behind. Did you really expect me to go back to you after the humiliation I suffered? I gave you my heart and you threw me away as soon as you could!" Anarka yelled.

"I was young and immature, and not the best father figure, I admit it! But I deserved to know! You should have told me!"

"I'm telling you now! They are your children, Luka and Juleka. If you ever want to meet them, you know where we live. Don’t you ever come back if you plan to abandon them later" Anarka says, grabbing her children's shoulders and guiding them to move out of the hotel room with a push.

"I'm sorry…" Luka mumbles to Jagged, before leaving the room.

"I'm the one who is sorry…" Jagged admits to Marinette before she runs to follow the Couffaines and Kitty Section. “I’ll go visit sometime! I promise!”

“Are you ok, Luka?” Marinette asks after leaving through the hotel doors, seeing how Jagged is looking at them from the highest balcony.

“I will be. Eventually…” he returns his gaze down to focus on Marinette, reaching to hold her hand. “I don’t need Jagged’s music as long as I can listen to yours''

Marinette feels her cheeks burn.

________________________

On their way home, Marinette can’t take what she’s seen out of her head. ‘It was Luka's heart, right? And Luka’s true feelings. He truly loves me’, she realized. ‘But why…?’

With an instant of bravery, Marinette pulls Luka's hand to separate themselves from the rest of his family and friends.

"Luka… I- Am I painful to be with? To watch?" She bites her lip a bit and asks in terror. “Am I hurting you?”

"Of course not, Marinette. Never.” Luka assures her with a soft, faint smile. “You're more than I could ever ask for. You're the most beautiful song I've ever heard"

"Even if I have those unbearable to watch green stains...?" she whispers, embarrassed and angry at herself for not being able to make her feelings go according to her wishes.

"It can’t be helped, can it? And even if that’s the case, for me, you’re still the most beautiful despite those colors"

“Is my heart song really enough to cover for that ugliness? I hate it myself…”

“You shouldn’t. Imperfections can enhance beauty. I don’t mind them as long as I can hear your song up close” he answers.

“But-! Are you sure…? Aren’t you afraid I might end up abandoning you?” she finally asks, scared for his answer.

“I am. I’m terrified” he admits. “But how am I supposed to stand in the way of your wishes- your happiness? I can’t and I won’t do that” Luka shrugs, “Aren’t you scared of being abandoned too?”

“I am” she answers, after giving it some thought. “and that’s not the main reason for it, but I want to stay by your side” she realizes, “more than ever”.

Luka squeezes her hand and shows her a soft expression. “Thank you for always saving me. Akumatized or not,” he whispers to her ear. It surprises Marinette to see how his cheeks are pink over his fond smile.

“No-! I- I just sang a song and- It was all thanks to the new her-” she stopped herself. Luka couldn’t possibly remember what happened when he was akumatized. No one told him, no one showed him the news. He couldn’t know he turned her into a mermaid, or how she sang. Yet he thanked her for saving him.

‘Of course he knows’ Marinette understands. ‘Yet he didn’t reveal me to Shadow Moth and he let me go on purpose, too’. Her thoughts deepen. ‘I get it now’ she reaches her conclusion. ‘He wanted me to save him. He wanted me to take him back after he realized he was on the wrong side. It makes sense. He protected me despite being akumatized once again- like when he was Silencer’.

The girl’s feet stop walking for a moment at the revelation, causing Luka to look back at her. Taking one step closer, she raises on her tiptoes and gives Luka a kiss on his lips, surprising both of them.

‘I wonder what kind of music his heart is hearing now,’ she wonders, ‘because I can only hear a grateful and sincere happy tune in my own heart right now’

“Your heartsong is beautiful” she finishes with a smile he reciprocates.

Most likely, both of them knew deep inside that their relationship as it was now was bound to end at some point, sooner or later. Maybe both of them would always be afraid of loneliness and being abandoned, too. But wasn’t it enough to enjoy the music they created in that instant, while it lasts? Isn’t it the same with live concerts? They might end, but the sensations last forever in memories. Is it something to regret? Neither of them felt it was. And perhaps both of them secretly agreed with that logic as they continued walking hand in hand, enjoying each other's company and welcoming their mutual love and support, in whatever form their relationship changes into in the future.

[gallavictorious]

concerning the ask about Ian bein the eldest child - I wonder how his relationship with Micky would even play out, when he'd have less free time and maybe a more realistic (less romanticized) view on life in general? Like, do you think he would chase after him like he did in the earlier seasons? I don't know, the whole "Ian is the eldest child" is facinating to me

Oh, this is an interesting one! I think there’s two different aspects to consider here: 1, would Ian and Mickey even be interested in one another if Ian were the eldest, and 2, if so, would pursuing a relationship be feasible under these circumstances?

I'll deal with the first issue briefly, and then with the second one at some length. Lots of different parameters to take into account here... This is obviously going to be speculative as hell, and I’m teasing the whole thing out as I type, but let’s see–

As was mentioned in the discussion that promted this ask, it’s difficult to know to what degree Ian’s personality would have been different, had he been born the eldest child – and even harder to know how that would have affected his compatibility with Mickey. He’d probably still would have been tough as well as compassionate, two qualities I believe are key to him being attractive to Mickey, but I’m less certain that Ian would have found Mickey quite as charming if he was already saddled with the responsibility for five younger siblings and a drunken father… ? And maybe Mickey embodying the South Side male in ways that mirror both Terry and Frank (look at their similar choices in clothing) would have been more of a turn off for firstborn!Ian, since he’d be the one who primarily had to deal with consequences of Frank’s many failings? Ian being a bit of a chameleon himself has him being more appreciative of Mickey being so extremely unconcerned about the opinions of others, but he might have been less amused with Mickey’s crudeness if he was dealing with a lot of other shit already? Then again, maybe none of this would have mattered! Maybe Mickey’s directness might be especially refreshing if your life’s generally a huge fucking tangle and you have slippery fuckers Monica and Frank to contend with on a daily basis. And although I think that the fact that canon!Ian often feels a bit invisible and like he's living in Lip's shadow might contribute to him fighting so hard for that connection he feels with Mickey – chasing after him, as you say – it might well be that even if he'd been the eldest, he'd still be seeking that out, because so much of his life and time is dedicated to his siblings and he yearns for something that is only his, only for him.

No easy or immediate answer to this question, though I suspect most of us prefer to think that they’d have liked each other anyway. Heaven knows there are plenty of AU:s built on this assumption.

Oh, and then there’s the whole question of pheromones. Now, obviously that’s not the be-all and end-all on sexual attraction, but given how very quickly Ian and Mickey go from trying beat the creap out of each other to eagerly fucking, and how Ian is very clear about liking the way Mickey smells, I think it’s fair to say that chemical compatibility is a pretty big factor in them first getting together. (It sure as hell isn’t the only one, but still.) With that in mind, I may or may not have had my partner, who’s a clinical research biologist, look into the epigenetic properties of pheromones (i.e. to find out if how you grow up might affect your natural body musk to the point where you’d be chemically attractive to other people than you are now). It’s not entirely clear and – predictably – the research done on what part pheromones play in sexual attraction among humans has been primarily focused on attraction in heterosexual people, but it seems that conditions in the womb and external factors in childhood (as well as changes later in life, such going on the pill, being stressed or having a disease) would affect your smell. However, we can’t readily know if and to what degree just being born first and having to take on the responsibilities of being the oldest sibling would affect Ian’s musk, and if it would decrease how attractive he is to Mickey (that it would increase it seems an impossibility because these two are already so insanely, stupidly horny for one another).

Okay. Having tentatively concluded that we can’t know for sure whether or not Ian and Mickey would still be into each other had Ian been born first (and hence not been quite the same person), let’s recklessly assume that they would, and turn to far more intriguing discussion of how their relationship would actually play out.

Do we imagine that Ian is a few years older than Mickey then, the same age as Fiona would have been at the start of canon? Maybe it doesn't matter much – it's not a huge difference, but to be honest I feel a little ickey about it since Ian would be an adult and Mickey still a teenager (and not a particularly well-adjusted and healthy one at that). Hmm. Either way, I can see them getting together in much the same way, with Ian doing something nice for Mandy – intervening when she's harassed at the local store, maybe, sparking a little hero crush on her part – and that whole thing going down more or less as it does in canon. But if it does, and Mickey and his goons beats up Ian's younger brother Lip in Ian's stead, I think eldest child!Ian might be really, really pissed and out for blood? Which gives him a nice incentive to go look for Mickey, even if Kash is not part of this picture (and I think that he's probably not). So far, so good... but if Ian's this much older than Mickey – four years? – Ian will already have started to fill out, right, turning all tall and buff, and Mickey might not have such an easy time overwhelming him. Then again, that might not necessarily serve as a deterrent to Mickey at all, so the end result is probably still the same, surprise sex fuelled by adrenaline, pheromones and general compatibility.

But... then what? To be honest, I think it'd be very difficult to make it work under these circumstances. If Ian is older than Mickey, Mickey might well have a much harder time feeling safe with him, just because he might feel like he doesn't have the upper hand in the relationship – and in the beginning I think it was VERY important for Mickey to feel like he had control and was calling the shots on when and how they met up. Four or five years is not a big difference at all later in life, but if you're 16 and your lover is 21 (or thereabouts, I'm still not super clear on the timeline, but ballpark) and they're also used to running an entire household and therefore accustomed to being in charge... I don't see this working for Mickey, not enough so that he dares let his guard down to the point required for their relationship to develop.

As for Ian, I think he'd have far less patience with Mickey's standoffishness and unwillingness to committ or even admit that they have anything beyond sex. Ian wouldn't have the time or energy or disposition to deal with that, not on top of everything else, and furthermore, it seems like it'd be very hard to keep his clandestine meeetings with Mickey secret when he's the lynchpin of the family, always taking calls and dealing with sudden emergencies. To make it properly work with Fiona, JimmySteve has to more or less move in more or less immediately and adjust his life to fit with her chaos; it'd arguably be the same for Ian, yeah? Don't really see the still very much closeted (and terrified) Mickey actually doing that – moving in, helping out with the kids and what-not. (One could also hope that Ian realizes that pursuing a relationship with a still underage Mickey would be inappropriate and calls it off for those reasons.)

So, realistically, if there's an age difference and they meet at the same time as they do in canon, I think there might be a few hook-ups, but it would fall apart rather soon, in spite of their very strong attraction. But! Maybe in a few years, when Mickey's older and the age difference less meaningful, and Mickey's had the chance to become a little more accepting of himself and his orientation, and Ian's siblings are just a little bit older so that Ian can take some more time for himself... maybe then they could run into each other again and that old spark roar back into life and they take it from there? It'd still be an uphill struggle, of course, but they've dealt with those before and always – eventually – come out on top. The whole Svetlana thing never happened, Mickey is fully on his way to coming into his own at the king of the South Side, Ian is trying to figure out who he is outside of the Big Brother, maybe Mickey is out, maybe he's not, maybe Terry is gone, maybe he's not... If one is so inclined, I think there's some fun to be had with this idea. I am, however, more partial to another:

Say that Ian's still born when he was born, so still a couple of years (according to the forms they fill out when applying for a marriage license) younger than Mickey. Maybe then, even in spite of his added burdens and responsibilities, he'd still be naive and soft enough to have a bit more patience for bad boy Mickey? It'd be before Monica ran out on them, so maybe there are still times (few and far between) when Ian doesn't have to take full responsibility for his siblings; times when he can pursue what he wants instead. And Mickey would feel more in control and safer dealing with babyface!Ian, so maybe he'd dare a bit more?

Maybe he starts hanging out at the Gallagher house after that first fuck, for a chance to be near Ian. The rest of the siblings would be young enough that he feels confident (although perhaps mistakenly) that they'll not pick up on what's going on, so as long as Frank and Monica are out (or out of it), Mickey's happy to come around. Hang out, fuck whenever they can, maybe even help out a tiny little bit when Ian makes him, and in spite of his best efforts and intentions he gets more and more pulled into Ian's life. This, I think, could potentially work, although I expect the same sort of up and downs as we get in canon. Mickey probaby won't get shot by Kash (because I think eldest child!Ian would be a little less susceptible to his ”charms”), but Frank could still – very easily – walk in on them. It would get overwhelming at times and Mickey would push Ian away and flee; Ian would get impatient with Mickey's insistence on distance and NO EMOTIONS ONLY SEX (more so than he is in canon, I think) and tell him to shape up or fuck off. It'd be volatile for sure, but in the end I think they'd always return to each other, adapt and try a little bit harder to make it work. Pull's just to strong, you know? Maybe it'd even happen faster than in canon, if Mickey isn't sent to juvie that first time, and if they have more opportunities to spend time together doing stuff other than fucking (ie just hanging out at the Gallagher house under the pretext that Mickey's just a friend, which Mickey would allow, thinking the younger siblings clueless). Really wouldn't mind reading this fic, you know, though I'd mourn Ian's relationship with Lip in this alternative reality. (Like, there’s SO MUCH potential! Maybe Mickey lures Frank and Monica away on a drug weekend just so he can stay at the house with Ian, even if it does mean having the help out with the little ones! I can see angry teenage Mickey being made to help Debbie with her math homework! Feed baby Liam! Supposed to stop tiny Carl from doing horrible stuff but ending up helping him instead! Ian is not amused! I want it!)

So, uh. That's my speculative take on this, for now. Very open to being swayed by other people's opinions, though, so I'd love to hear them, or whatever additional thoughs you might have.

Thank you so much for the ask: I had a lot of fun thinking about this, and hope that you found somet sort of satisfaction in my long-winded ramblings. <3 Also, I'm sorry it took so long to get back to you! As I've noted before, I'm unreliable (and sometimes busy).

[spacehologramcollection]

NSFW Alphabet Smoke.

Finally, the NSFW Alphabet for my man Smokey Boo Bear. I had so much fun writing this. It may differ from other HC’s about him. But this is my interpretation of what he’d be like. I feel like I’m repenting for my sins for writing Havik Smut to be fair.

Warnings: NSFW, so you know the drill 18+ under the cut. Mentions of all that smutty goodness. Some mentions of the Enenra. I cannot also speak any Czech whatsoever. So, you may have to use your imaginations. Why does Smoke not have a Czech accent though? GIF does not belong to me. Was found on google. 

·       A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Tomas is so soft after sex and he is extremely vulnerable himself. Aftercare with him is mutual thing. He needs some TLC and a hell of a lot of love after. It’s simple things like running you both a bath, helping to wash each other’s bodies. If you help him wash his hair, he will love you for it. Because it takes a fucking lot of work to comb and brush. It’s also soft touches and caresses after. The man is more on the touch starved side, extremely touch starved when you first meet. So, he craves human affection and touch. So please give it to him. A lot of soft reassuring words are passed back and forth in the dark of your shared room. Only the string lights wrapped around your bedframe illuminating you. You’re a tangle of limbs, blankets and love. In conclusion Smoke is a big softie and he loves to be affectionate after sex. After your shower he’ll also bring you both a snack and a warm drink. God, imagine him leaning back against your counter, hair in a bun, no shirt on, grey checked joggers. PERFECTION. His voice is also very soothing.

·       B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

This is a tricky one for him, because in his eyes he loves every inch of you. But if he had to choose, he’s without a doubt very partial to your chest, stomach and neck areas. He loves leaving a trail of flitted kisses and light love bites down there. He also loves your thighs, he just loves how they feel when you’re on top of him, or the way they snake around his waist. He loves running his hands over them and the feel of your skin against his. As for his favourite body part when it comes to himself. He’s not overly bothered where you touch at first, just please touch and love him, he’s been starved for a very long time and he just craves some touch. But after a while, when he’s used to the frequent contact and content. He finds he does love his arms and shoulders the most. The feel of you gripping at them, trying to remain in control as he fucks you silly against a wall. Or the way you bury your head into them as you cum. He loves it. He’s worked hard for his body and is very proud of his arms.  

·       C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

So, with Tomas, he isn’t into making messes. They aren’t his thing. So, he will prefer to cum in you or his hand if you’re not into him cumming into you. But if you’re down for swallowing he will lose it watching as you take everything, he gives you. An exception to the mess rule is shower sex. He will make an absolute mess of you, if you want him to, as long as it’s in the shower. He will never admit how much it turned him on. When you were in the shower, on your knees, tongue out waiting for him to cum on your face. He felt weird at first, until he saw you covered in his cum. Enenra does stir a little when he sees you in a mess. It’s something Smoke has to try and keep control of. It’s a two-way relationship, one which Enenra isn’t involved in and has no say.

·       D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Has had exactly one really filthy dream. He hasn’t told anyone this because it really did turn him on something fierce. He’ll take this secret to the grave with him. This dream had it all. Manipulation of his powers, fucking somewhere you shouldn’t have been, best friend walking in. It was fucking SPICY. He’d disappeared and reappeared in a cloud of smoke. Sat there, legs spread on that fucking chair. It ended with you, riding the fuck out of him on the Lin Kuei throne. Only to have Kuai walk in on you both mid fucking. Really in front of his salad? The dream ended there. But he was curious to see how it ended. He did fuck you a bit rougher that morning too.

·       E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

And with the running theme for our Lin Kuei men. Smoke has no experience whatsoever. I will die on this hill. Touch starved to fuck through choice though. He doesn’t trust just anyone, and it takes a lot for him to trust you. So, sex wasn’t on the cards. That, and he’s nervous about sex with Enenra lurking inside him. If that little shit wanted to wake up, what would happen? He didn’t want to think about it. So, abstained from sex. He has had a lot of offers. Sareena could have hooked him up with someone easily. Someone who wouldn’t have been bothered if Enenra reared his ugly arse head during. That and him masturbating isn’t easy, but more on that later. So yeah, you’re taking his virginity. He trusts you and learns to subdue the fear of Enenra, and you seem to shut the fucker down too. So, all in all. He’s not experienced, won’t be great the first few times, and probably won’t last long. But it’s all practise, a great warrior isn’t moulded over a day, give him some time to practise and he’s eager to learn.

·       F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual Will instead include badly described sex positions)

Comes as no surprise but he’s very vanilla at first. He likes to feel he has some degree of control of the situation. Just so he can stop it in case he feels like it’s getting too much. So, it’ll mainly be missionary. That and he does love to look at your face and expressions you make during. It kind of reassures him that he’s doing everything right… not that your moans and noises don’t already confirm that. After a while you try a few new positions, mainly doggy, him fucking you against a wall. Whilst he loves all of them, he does love it when you ride him. It’s like the ultimate show of trust for him. He’s putting you in control. He loves watching your hips move against him, the circular motions you make, the way your hands run over his chest. The way you grip his shoulders for leverage. It can also feel intimate when he sits up and brings you closer together. Sex is really intimate for him so he’s going to prefer positions that are more intimate.

·       G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Tomas has an interesting sense of humour. Whilst he may come across as stoic and mature (Not quiet Kuai’s level) he does have a sense of humour. And will occasionally let out a breathy laugh when you say something that’s a bit dirty. It’s just the way he is. He’s not going to sit there and makes overtly sexual jokes or tell you one mid thrust. But he has a sense of humour. It’s more prominent at the beginning of your relationship. When he’s inexperienced, it’s his way of dealing with not knowing what to do. But sex becomes a little more serious as he gets better. He will still laugh after, because he cannot believe how lucky he is.

·       H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Tomas takes care of himself. And yeah, the hair does match the drapes. He’s a little embarrassed by that. Even though you kinda knew because his eyebrows are fucking grey. But he keeps everything trimmed and well groomed. If he was to grow stubble on his face you wouldn’t be able to tell straight away. That and when he did try and grow a beard Bi-Han called him Santa for a week straight. So, he keeps himself well groomed. The only part that’s a little untamed, is the very faint trail that runs from bellow his navel down to his cock. You want to follow that trail and see where it goes.

·       I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Tomas is very intimate during sex. This is due to how he views it and himself. It’s a real reflection and insight into how he is. He doesn’t let just anyone touch him. It takes years of trust. And he doesn’t let himself close to many. But you, you’re different. He’d go as far as saying you’re his soulmate. So, when he has sex with you, he’s allowing himself to be vulnerable and showing you a side he doesn’t show many people. He’ll have a lot of sweet words leaving his mouth, compliments are being bestowed left right and centre. Lots of strokes, caresses and slow fucking. He can also be very romantic when the time calls for it. He saves these for special occasions though, because after a while it may lose it’s meaning. Like anniversary sex very romantic, it’s not surprising but it is. He’s learnt from Bi-Han and Kuai which means he should technically suck, but then again, he has read a lot of books. So, he probably pulls his romance ideas from that. A lot of rose petals, incense, some champagne. He’s gone all out.

·       J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Masturbating had never been his thing. Sometimes it had to be done. And he thought of it as a chore. It was always difficult with Enenra surging his way through him near the point of him cumming. He had to keep control and that didn’t help him focus. It was a very difficult situation; one he couldn’t just speak to anyone about. Bi-Han isn’t the best for advice, and Kuai, well Kuai is Kuai. He’s not an overtly sexual person. Neither of them has another being living in them. So, he felt stuck. He eventually, after a few awkward searches and tweaking, came up with a solution and grew to control him better. But now he has you, it’s not as bad, you silence and keep Enenra at bay. He’s not sure why. But mutual masturbation is now one of his favourite things in the world.

·       K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Sorry but he’s not overtly kinky. He’s on the vanilla side of things. And he’s still exploring everything. He does have a bit of voice kink on his part, he loves watching you come undone as he speaks in Czech. Inappropriate manipulation of smoke is another kink. He loves watching it ebb around you, swirl and reveal parts of you. He loves been able to get you off with it. So, he has a slight temperature kink. Where there’s fire, there’s Smoke…

·       L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Apart from that one dream where he fucked you on the throne. He’s down mainly for the bedroom. It’s private, intimate, little to no chance of getting disturbed and his room is really comfy. A little bit on the basic side. But the man loves his little succulents, string lights and piles of warm blankets and pillows. But he will also fuck you in the shower, he loves the feel of the water as it runs down his back as he fucks you against a wall. Or how the warm tiles feel against his body as he lays down and you ride him. So mainly bedroom, bath/shower, or wall sex. More private than public. He doesn’t want to get caught.

·       M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Seeing how undone you’re coming either when he gives you oral or as he teases you with his fingers. He can’t believe he’s managing to make you come this undone. And he’s the one getting you GONE. He also has a thing for watching you undress. If you want to get him hard, all you’ll need to do is just start removing some layers slowly. It’s still an intimacy thing. You’re baring your body to him, showing him, you trust him… that and you’re perfect in his eyes. Heavy make out sessions will also get him going, be gentle with him though.

·       N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

So, this is where this differs to some other Hc’s people have for Tomas. He’s not submissive. He needs to have some control or feel he’s in control. He been through some shit. And he doesn’t like not feeling he has some control over the situation. So, he will not be into bondage, BDSM or any of that. He won’t hurt you during sex either, or in return he really doesn’t want any of that shit either. He doesn’t mind gently tugs to his hair but don’t yank it. Tomas has been through a lot and needs some care and attention. He just wants to feel loved and not scared. So, he avoids anything that could bring harm. He can be a little rough, but he draws the line at slapping, choking etc. It makes him feel like he’ll lose control, Enenra is always there and that’s something you both need to accept. Better to play it safe.

·       O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He gets better at giving over time. And he really does love to give and he gets very, very good at it. He loves watching you come undone on his tongue and will often smirk watching you writhe against his mouth. That and with that smoke power, it feels UNREAL when he lets parts ghost out of his mouth and hands over your dripping cunt. A bit teasingly. But he’d deny teasing, because would he do that? Will also leave little love bites on your thighs.

He loves to receive too. Oh my god who would have thought it would feel this nice. He’s a little unsure at first when you say you want to take him all, he hears you gag and is a bit nervous. But he relaxes when you start moaning around his cock. He’s so impressed you can take him all. Loves running his fingers through your hair as you suck him off.  

·       P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Okay. So, Tomas is going to prefer Slow and Sensual sex, I think we’ve covered this in detail. But he just prefers it, sex is sacred to him and an intimate act, he wants that philosophy to reflect in his actions. But that doesn’t say he won’t fuck you on the rougher side. Not enough to hurt you, but he can be more fast, frantic and have deeper thrusts. This comes after a little bit of practise, but by god does it feel good.

·       Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Not a fan of them. He wants to take his time. Explore, make sure you leave with jelly legs and to him, that cannot be achieved in a short amount of time. But he will have a quickie if he must leave on a mission OR if he’s snuck out to meet you when he’s meant to be on a mission. Sometimes he has a yearning to fuck you and he can’t concentrate. And Bi-Han told him to eliminate distractions. So, you know, it’s sort of his fault if he gets caught out. But yeah. Her prefers proper sex rather than quickies. But they do come in useful and sometimes are needed.

·       R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He’s down to try new things but nothing risky. He doesn’t want you to be hurt or himself. He has Enenra in him and he cannot risk losing control of that. He’s not sure what he would do to you and he doesn’t want to take that risk. So, to be real, you will have to accept that it’s a big part of him. He wants you to be safe and he knows that means been careful. But there are other ways to experiment without taking huge risks. New locations, him sneaking out to see you, trying new things, more on that later.

·       S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He’s a ninja. He’s got some stamina on him. He can go for one long round and recover quickly. Or he can do shorter rounds. Short to him is around the half an hour mark, long is pushing the one-hour mark maybe one and a half. He can recover fast though.

·       T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He’s down for some experimentation with toys. They don’t seem very risky. Saying that, he is not into pegging, there’s an element of control in there he is not keen on. But he’s fine to use toys to spice things up. Different types of lube, vibrators… but he also has his powers which he is down for using. He’s mastered them so you know, best toy of all. Who knew smoke could do this to you?! You’ll never think of the smoke leaving the kettle the same again.

·       U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He can tease and doesn’t mind a little bit of light teasing. Such as talking about how you’re blushing, ghosting over your skin, taking his time. And he doesn’t mind this been done to him. He draws the line when it pushes past light teasing and goes into the realm of submission. He doesn’t do begging and it makes him uncomfortable. As long as he has some control over the situation, he will be fine. But it’s mainly light teasing. So, no chastity style teasing. That’s not happening. That’s not teasing his mind, and it’s a major turn off for him and it’s not great for him. BE GENTLE WITH HIM!

·       V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

For someone who is very quiet in most situations. He can be very loud when fucking. A lot of moans and groans, some filthy words been uttered under his breath. Some of them are in English, some of them are in Czech. What is he saying? He could be reading the fucking phonebook, but you do not give a fuck. His voice is a lot deeper in his native tongue, so there’s that. He does cum loudly sometimes; depends how long it has been. He has to bite his hand sometimes. He could not live it down if Bi-Han walked in. He could not.

·       W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

SFW: Such a hipster at heart. His room is just a mess of blankets, pillows, string lights and little cacti. But he’s had these things before they were cool. Has like three sets of string lights and drinks IPAs. Wears his hair in a bun because it’s long and gets in his eyes. But like, it’s fine because he’s a ninja, so it’s not a manbun. Is a manbun.

BONUS SFW: Out of all the Lin Kuei Men. Tomas is the one who can pursue a more normal relationship. He doesn’t have titles and rules holding him back. If he wants to go to the city with you on a date, he can. He doesn’t need to watch his PDA, but he still isn’t keen on it. But you can date him without fear of judgement. Because he’s not a Grandmaster or a leader. He’s just your Smokey Boo Bear.

NSFW: His cum has a smokey taste to it. I will die on this hill fight me on this. But yeah, his cum has a bit of a smoked taste to it. Fuck knows why and it’s always a bit on the warmer side. He has once cum, and smoke did come out before he blew his load. Luckily he was just masturbating, so you weren’t there. He says a silent prayer to the Elder Gods every time you fuck. Because he doesn’t want that shit to happen in front of you. Has asked his dick ‘WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!?’ A few times. Raiden must have overheard his prayers and consulted with the Elder Gods, because it’s not happened yet. He’s sure he has heard him.

·       X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He’s on the bigger side of average. Not going to lie. You were not expecting that when you first unbuttoned his jeans. It was jus there, it’s always the quiet ones. He kinda looked at you a bit sheepishly. It’s probably pushing 8” but it’s pretty thick. A nice-looking cock, 10/10 would suck.

·       Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

It’s not super high and wasn’t to begin with. It was more of a chore he had to take care of. But since meeting you and having sex, it has increased a little bit. Sex is intimate and he doesn’t want to just fuck you for the sake of fucking you. Sometimes a need does arrive and if you’re down to fuck then, lock the doors and close the blinds, cos you’re going for a ride! He doesn’t need to have sex every day, but some weeks he feels the need to. So, he really differs. On average sex probably 4-5 times a week. But it can be more, can be less.

·       Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Smoke struggles to sleep. But he sleeps better in his own bed and with you laying with him. He will fall asleep after you, he likes to make sure you’re settled and safe before drifting off. Is the big spoon and loves burying his head into your hair as he falls asleep.

[thewhumperinwhite]

ATTD: A Magician, Not a Healer (2)

ATTD Masterlist

If and when this actually becomes A Novel, I’m intentionally not gonna write anything from Will’s perspective from the time he introduces himself until [redacted], because he Does Not Want Anyone In His Head Right Now, and also its hard to write him Thinking w/o Telling Secrets. 

But this is for whump so lets get right in that horrible little head of his :) 

TW for: implied/reference child abuse; referenced minor whump; dissociation; mild/brief PTSD flashback; referenced stabbing; infected wounds; dizziness/fainting; some well-intentioned emotional manipulation.

@whumpitywhumpwhump @favwhumpstuff

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By this time the boy called Will knew the sensation of healing magic very well, and he had never liked it, never. He had spent too many years of his childhood hunched on the Healer’s bench in his father’s House, trying not to meet the Healer’s eyes, while the Healer laid cold hands on his blacked eyes and cracked ribs and split-open lips. The Healer at the House was already an old man when the boy was a child, and just as eager to avoid eye contact as the boy had been. The old man had never asked questions (or needed to ask) and the boy had felt… the way he felt about so many members of his father’s House. Gratitude and resentment and sorrow, all in equal measure.

The wound in his stomach now, where the knife went in, was among the worst he had yet received. It hurt, certainly, and itched under the bandages in a sick, distracting way.

It was hard to think of the wound without remembering the moment he received it, and the moments that followed. Without thinking of hot blood rushing over his hand. Without thinking of—

He was seated in the front room of a Healer’s Salon in Limani, Galdrea. He was many miles from his father’s House. The wound was a week old now. And he was not alone, and might in fact be required to speak at any moment. He dug his nails into the palms of both hands, hard, to force himself to stay in the room, instead of slipping backwards, through the week past and back into hell.

Jasper the Magician nudged the boy gently with his shoulder, and the boy was only halfway back into his body, and startled too obviously at the light touch. He had done that many times, now, and soon the Magician was going to begin asking him questions he had not yet thought of answers to.

“You alright over there?” the Magician asked, and the boy nodded eagerly, relieved. He did know the answer to that one.

“Yes,” he said, “I am alright.” He tried on a smile; just a small one, so as not to overcorrect. It was a delicate needle to thread. He need not pretend to be cheerful—the Magician knew he was wounded, and ill—only calm. Sane. Normal, ideally.

The Magician frowned slightly, perhaps not totally convinced.

The Magician—Jasper—had been very kind. Much more kind than the boy would have preferred, actually. He also seemed quite clever, however, and that was—inconvenient.

He was also very large. Taller than the boy’s father, and broad about the shoulders, with large hands and a large, low voice. The boy was trying not to hold this against him.

He was really trying very hard.

The door at the back of the room opened, and the Healer’s assistant poked her head through it. She was young, and pretty, which was a relief. The boy knew how to talk to pretty girls. It was easy to be what they expected. Generally.

She smiled at him, and he smiled back. He’d had enough practice that he didn’t even really have to try.

“The Healer is ready to see who’s next,” she said, in Galdrean. Obviously in Galdrean. He was in Galdrea. He was in Galdrea, and his father’s House was far away, and he had been (no one) a farmer’s son for a whole week now.

The boy stood up too fast and the room went entirely black.

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Jasper had to leap to his feet to keep Will from collapsing full-length onto the floor. The Healer’s pretty assistant gasped and hovered, a hand over her mouth.

“How terrible!” she said, eyeing the boy—who was trying to get his feet under him again, while Jasper supported his entire weight without much effort—with evident interest. “Have you been accosted by thieves? There are many in the city unfriendly to travelers. I am very sorry to see it.”

Jasper saw no reason to contradict her; he himself was much to white to be anything but a “traveler” here, to say nothing of Will, who looked about as Crythian as it was possible to look. “Aye,” he said, helping the boy forward when the assistant stood aside to let them in.

It was a small shop, with a small waiting room—empty when they entered, which was why Jasper had chosen it—and a smaller room behind for the Healer to do their work. There was no Healer present yet—an unmarked door at the back of the room presumably led to a private sitting room, and perhaps living quarters as well. This was the edge of the port city’s magic district, and there were a dozen bigger and better-appointed Healing Salons within an easy walk, which was the whole idea. This Healer was likely to be perfectly competent, and also eager enough for clients not to ask too many questions.

“Did they steal very much from you?” the assistant asked, while Jasper steered Will to the large plain bench in the center of the room. She directed that question to Jasper, since Will was still blinking very hard and likely couldn’t see, but as soon as the boy’s eyes cleared she batted her big eyes at him with a look of—compassionate over-interest. “Are you hurt terribly?” she asked Will, rather eagerly.

Will blinked at her, and then he gave her the same smile he had given Lia, in the Sheep’s Eye, before everything had gone sideways: soft and open and very deliberately charming. The Healer’s assistant almost visibly melted.

“It’s not so bad as all that,” the boy said, and the—practiced warmth, precise tenderness, of his voice was almost enough to cover the rasp of his fever-dried throat.

“It is, actually,” Jasper said drily, and the assistant looked up at him with surprise, as though she’d forgotten he was there. “He’s been stabbed. It’s an old wound—a few days, at least—and I’m reasonably certain its gone septic.”

“Oh dear,” the assistant said, and she sounded distinctly less dreamy now, which was a bit of a relief. “I’ll tell Healer Charon right away.”

She scurried from the room in a flurry of skirts. Jasper took one of the seats by the door, shaking his head in mild amusement.

“Apparently you can charm ladies even when you’re drooling blood all over them,” he said, and laughed when Will immediately reached up to wipe his mouth. “Not literally, boy. I only mean, you must be unstoppable when you’re at your fighting weight.”

Will blinked at him, frowning slightly. “…thank you?” he said after a minute.

“You’re doing it on purpose,” Jasper said, with absolute conviction, but before he could ask the obvious followup—Why?—the door opened and an old woman in a Healer’s black cap and wimple swept through, not pausing to exchange pleasantries before she pulled up a low stool beside the bench.

She flapped a wrinkled brown hand at Will. “Lay back, then, boy. I’ve to see what I’m looking at before I can scrape out whatever poison’s seeped into your blood.”

Will moved to follow her order, slightly stiff with either reluctance or pain, and while he was in the process of stretching unhappily out across the bench—it was built to accommodate much larger men, and he looked even more skeletally thin on the bench than off—the Healer glanced at his face for apparently the first time, and did a slight double-take.

“You speak the language?” she asked with obvious doubt. She had been speaking very fast from the beginning, and made no effort to slow, now. “I’ve none of the Wolfkiller’s tongue at all. I’d as soon avoid pointing and grunting unless you make it necessary.”

It wasn’t a delicate way of asking. Jasper hadn’t known many Crythians—and those few generally not under the best of circumstances—but had a vague idea that they were proud of their language, and (at least by stereotype) not overly inclined toward learning others.

The boy ducked his head respectfully before he rested it back on the bench, and said, “I speak enough Galdrean to get by, ma’am, and not to make your work a struggle, I hope.”

He said this very politely, in just a slightly different voice than he had used on her assistant—a few degrees of warmth traded for careful respect. He was also, as far as Jasper could tell, entirely fluent.

The Healer’s wrinkled mouth turned up a little at the corners. So apparently Will had calculated his tone well enough.

Jasper watched all this with interest. And maybe just a hint of suspicion.

Then the Healer said, “Wait, boy. Take that thing off, I’ll not have it in my way. You want this wound looked at or no?”

Will, laid out on the bench, stiffened. His hands came up to rest on his sword belt, obviously reluctant.

Jasper had not seen him without it since that first morning, when he awoke in Jasper’s tent and asked for it so desperately. Apparently he slept in the belt, though how he managed to sleep with three-plus feet of metal tangling around his legs was beyond Jasper.

Will looked at the Healer, and his hands tightened on the belt, and it was obvious he was going to refuse, which seemed like a very good way to be turned out and continue having a badly infected gut-wound.

“Relax, boy,” Jasper said. “I’ll take it.”

Will looked at Jasper for a second with almost total distrust. Then he nodded stiffly, and sat back up, with obvious difficulty, and slipped the belt off.

“Be—careful,” he said, meeting Jasper’s eyes with slightly desperate sincerity.

The Healer watched Will hand the—ridiculous, useless-looking—sword over with obvious confusion.

“…very valuable?” she asked Jasper, doubtfully.

“Not worth much at all,” Will answered her, delicately. “Sentimental value, only.”

The blade grew slightly hot in Jasper’s hand at this dismissal of its worth—just enough that he could feel it through the leather sheath.

Jasper was very careful not to touch the handle.