#but he pulls it off anyway. wade is fuming.

[sciderman]

Do you think Peter learned how to breakdance when he got his powers just to add flare to his movement?

i think peter parker had been trying and failing to breakdance long before the spider-bite, and is just happy to discover he finally has the upper body strength to actually pull it off now

[sluttywonwoo]

the bet || j.ww x reader

Summary: you help your boyfriend’s best friend win a bet against your better judgement

Warnings: swearing, lil bit of jealousy, light smut (18+) 

Word Count: 2.8k

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

Masterlist

“Hey, can I ask a huge favor?”

You hoisted yourself up from your beach towel onto your elbows and pulled down your sunglasses to glare at the boy in front of you. You narrowed your eyes at him in suspicion. What could Kim Mingyu possibly want from you?

“What is it?”

He ran a hand through his still-wet hair awkwardly. “Um, the boys and I are about to play a game of volleyball, and we’ve bet some money on it…”

“Okay?”

“And, well, it’s me and Hansol against Wonwoo, Soonyoung, and Seungkwan. Wonwoo’s their best player and I was wondering if you could distract him? So that we have a better chance of winning?”

“Distract him… how?” you asked, not fully understanding.

“You know… whatever it is you do that drives Wonwoo crazy. He’s your boyfriend, I’m sure you know how to wind him up.”

“You mean you want me to get him hard during your game?”

Mingyu nearly choked at that. “Um, I mean pretty much, yeah. Just do something that will throw him off his game.”

“So you want me to help you guys cheat?”

“It’s not technically cheating.”

“I think your definition of cheating is much looser than mine.”

“So is that a no?” he asked.

You thought about it for a second. “Is there anything in it for me?”

“We’ll give you a cut of the winnings.”

You found yourself grinning. “How much did you guys bet?”

“Two hundred if they win, three hundred if we win. Basically whoever’s on the losing team has to cough up a hundred bucks.”

“Jeez, I can’t believe Wonwoo is risking that much on a stupid game.”

“Are you upset?”

“No, it’s his money he can do whatever he wants with it. I just think he’s a dumbass.”

“Not arguing with that.”

“Do you need me to remind you that you’re betting the same amount?”

“Fair enough,” he chuckled. “So you’ll do it? For a hundred?”

“Yeah, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Pleasure doing business.” Mingyu smirked and held out his hand for you to shake. You rolled your eyes at the formality but shook his hand anyway, just as Wonwoo came up to the both of you and clapped Mingyu on the shoulder.

“What are my best mate and my best girl talking about?” he asked, leaning down to kiss you.

“I wanted to go swimming, but Mingyu said you guys are about to play volleyball?” You piped up before Mingyu could say anything. Maybe you should’ve felt guiltier than you did about lying to your boyfriend and for what you were about to do, but hey, a hundred dollars was a hundred dollars . And if everything went according to plan, you’d be getting some good dick too. A win win.

Wonwoo frowned a little bit. “Oh yeah, sorry. Wanna play, love?” he offered. “There’s still some room on Mingyu’s team.”

You made a face. “What about your team? Can’t you make one of your other team members switch?”

He winced. “I love you, y/n, but you’re shit at sports.”

Any trace of remorse left over what you’d agreed to do dissolved in that moment. He fucking deserved what he was about to get.

“The stupid game is that important to you? Asshole,” you scoffed, and put your sunglasses back on before laying back down on the towel.

“Y/n,” Wonwoo whined, and crouched down next to you. “I-”

“Go play your fucking game.”

He stood back up, but lingered for a moment. You could tell he felt bad, but you weren’t having it. “Wanna go swimming after?” he asked in a quiet voice.

“Sure, whatever.”

You could tell he’d walked away when the shadow over you disappeared. You weren’t going to lie to yourself, you were a little pissed about the comment he’d made. Were you shit at sports? Yes, definitely, but could he have at least pretended to love you enough to be on the same team as you? Also yes. He should’ve known you were going to say no anyway.

While you were still fuming you hadn’t even realized the boys had started the game. Not even a minute in and you were already slacking on your end of the bet. You propped yourself back up for a moment to watch. You could see why Mingyu had asked for your help. Wonwoo and his team were dominating so far, and you couldn’t help but admire how fit your boyfriend looked as he served the ball to the other side of the court. You licked your lips absentmindedly, ready to pull him back to the car right fucking then.

You forced yourself to stop watching the game stood up from your towel, brushed yourself off, and began walking towards the water. You made sure to pull your bikini bottoms as far up your ass as you could in the process just to get Wonwoo’s attention as you walked past the volleyball net. Sure, you’d agreed to go swimming with him after the match, but you’d never promised to wait for him.

As you made your way down to the shore, you noted that not only Wonwoo’s head turned to watch you walk, but all five of the boys cast their attention away from the game and towards you. You glanced behind your shoulder for a second, and caught Mingyu’s smirk. He took advantage of Wonwoo’s lapse in concentration to spike the ball back over to their side and score a point.

You heard some yelling and protestation, but pretended to ignore it and continued to wade into the water.

It was warmer than you thought it would be, and deeper. There was a steep drop a few feet in that you might have tripped over if you weren’t careful. You only ended up staying in the ocean for a few minutes; Wonwoo couldn’t really get distracted by you if your whole body was submerged underwater. You weren’t there to swim around anyway, just to get your bathing suit wet so it would stick to your body.

You’d worn one that didn’t have pads in it so you knew that once you got out of the water the whole beach would be able to see your nipples poking through the fabric. You didn’t have a problem with that. Wonwoo might.

While you were down there you got your hair wet too, just for good measure. Might as well pull out all the stops since a hundred dollars were on the line.

You weren’t sure what the score was by the time you made your way back up to your towel, but you didn’t make an effort to ask. What you did know, though, was that Wonwoo was getting frustrated. Even from where you were you could see that his jaw was clenched and his brows were furrowed.

The opposing team seemed to be doing just fine though, and you stopped to watch them high-five each other after Mingyu scored another point by slamming the ball over the net onto Wonwoo side of the court.

“Damn, nice one, Gyu!” you called out from where you were standing, giving him a big smile and thumbs up. It was sort of dorky, not to mention a cheap shot, but if you knew Wonwoo as well as you thought you did, it’d be the perfect thing to rile him up.

“Thanks, y/n!” he shouted back and winked, ignoring the weird look Hansol gave him. “It’s about time you started rooting for the winning team!”

You struggled not to laugh when you looked back over to the other side of the court and saw all three boys scowling at Mingyu. You didn’t even know why he needed you in the first place, he knew how to push their buttons so well already.

Wonwoo’s fists were clenched now, and he looked this close to tackling his best friend to the ground. The two of you weren’t even flirting with each other, not really, but Wonwoo was the most competitive person you knew and it wasn’t always the best color on him. For you to be cheering for the team that he’s not on, and for that team to be winning- there was no doubt in your mind that he was royally pissed. Not to mention, that you just so happened to be cheering for his attractive best friend who may or may not have mentioned having sex dreams about you once or twice in passing.

It was good, but it wasn’t enough. Soonyoung made some offhand comment about how close the scores were so you knew you needed to keep going. You turned your attention away from the game again and lowered yourself down on your stomach on top of your towel and casually undid the strings of your bikini top to “sunbathe”.

If anyone asked it was so you didn’t get tan lines on your back, it was something that a lot of women did. In reality, however, you didn’t give a shit about tan lines, you just wanted to see how Wonwoo would react.

You pulled out your book to read while you tanned, tuning back into the game every once and a while to see how it was going. You could hear Soonyoung and Seungkwan yelling at Wonwoo to ‘pay attention’ or ‘snap the fuck out of it’ and smiled to yourself, excited for what was to come.

After several more minutes, your bathing suit was almost dry and you were starting to fall asleep on your towel. The volleyball game was taking way longer than you anticipated and you just wanted Mingyu and Hansol to win already. You didn’t have any other ideas to distract your boyfriend so you hoped they could pull it off.

Then, what you would call a fucking miracle happened. You were still nearly dozing off on top of your book when a pink Frisbee landed on the sand right in front of your face.

“Sorry about that!” called the voice of its owner and you squinted to see him jogging over to you. A few of his friends weren’t far behind and they all congregated in a little group in front of your towel. They looked to be about your age, maybe a little older. “Sorry to wake you up,” the ringleader apologized again, but smiled like he wasn’t really that sorry.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, one hand holding your loose bikini to your chest, while the other handed the Frisbee back to smiling guy. “No worries, I didn’t mean to fall asleep anyway.”

“What’s your name?” Ringleader asked. “I’m Jeonghan, and these are some of my fraternity brothers.”

Of course. You should’ve guessed. They were all jacked, tan, and had an air of privilege about them that you couldn’t miss. They were objectively cute, sure, but nothing in comparison to your boyfriend playing volleyball behind you. Not to mention their pack mentality freaked you out a little.

“I’m y/n,” you said and held your free hand out to them to shake, still keeping your other hand on your bikini top so you wouldn’t flash them. “Are you guys on a holiday break or something?”

“Yeah, just trying to make the most out of our last few days.”

“You from around here?” another boy asked, not being subtle at all in the way he was eyeing you.

“No, we just took a little day trip,” you explained and cleared your throat, wondering how long they’d stick around and when Wonwoo was going to come over and dick you down out of jealousy.

“We?” Ringlea- Jeonghan asked, cocking his head to the side. “Are you here with your friends?”

“Her boyfriend, actually,” Wonwoo piped up calmly from behind you. You looked back and saw him standing a few feet behind your towel with his arms crossed. He could be annoying, but fuck if he didn’t have good timing.

“Oh-uh, well I was nice to meet you.” Jeonghan mumbled abruptly and nodded to his friends to get back to their Frisbee game. They were gone before you could even say goodbye back.

“Attracting all sorts of attention today, aren’t you, love?” Wonwoo sneered and knelt down beside you.

His words went straight to the heat between your legs and you turned over onto your back to get a better look at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lied, daring him to challenge you.

“I think you do, y/n,” he continued. The way he whispered your name sent a shiver down your spine. “I mean, you’re practically naked in front of the whole beach right now.”

“I’m wearing a swimsuit.”

“You know what I mean. And all for what? To make me jealous? So I’d fuck you? Because you could’ve just asked, baby.”

You whimpered, but didn’t say anything and leaned up to kiss him, desperately wanting to feel his lips against yours. He leaned in too, but stopped just short of your mouth, pulling back a bit to look into your eyes. “I could just pull your bikini bottoms to the side, no one will notice.”

You moaned softly, wanting nothing more than for him to do exactly that. You weren’t even sure if you could wait to get home at this point, you wanted him inside of you now. He put a hand on each knee and spread your legs apart, whistling in awe at the wet spot on your bathing suit. You felt your face heat up in embarrassment. “I haven’t even touched you and you’re already this wet.”

“All because of you,” you panted, reaching out for him, but he pulled back.

“You know all of your teasing made me lose the game, right? I couldn’t focus because I was so distracted.” You nodded. “I was so fucking hard the whole match because of what you were doing”

And then your dumbass had to open your big mouth. “So Mingyu told you?”

Wonwoo pulled back, and gave you a confused look, clearly caught off guard. “Told me what?”

“Y/n, that was incredible, you were perfect!” Mingyu exclaimed as he ran up to you and Wonwoo, holding out a hundred dollar bill to you.

You winced as you took it, wishing you hadn’t said anything.

“Y/n, what the fuck?” Wonwoo demanded, even more frustrated than he had been a minute ago. “What were you incredible at?”

“Fucking distracting you, dude. I asked her if she’d be in on the bet with me for a cut of the winnings since you guys had more team members.”

Your boyfriend glared at you. “Is that true?”

“I mean, it’s just a game… and I thought it’d be fun,” you said quietly.

“That’s what you guys were talking about earlier, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, she didn’t need any convincing she was totally down-”

“Mingyu,” you interrupted, pinching the bridge of your nose, “please, if you have any mercy for my pussy please shut the fuck up.”

His face went scarlet and he shut his mouth without further comment.

“So that’s it?” Wonwoo asked, obviously not ready to drop the subject yet. “You’re just gonna sell out your own boyfriend that easy?”

“You said you didn’t want to be on a team with me!”

“Don’t turn this around on me! You’re the one who helped them cheat!”

“Oh I don’t know if I’d call it cheating,” Mingyu interjected again.

“Shut up, Mingyu!” you and Wonwoo both shouted.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Mingyu said quietly. “If I had known it was going to be this big of a deal I wouldn’t have asked her. I just thought I was being clever, that it’d be a fun way to beat you guys, but I’m sorry I went too far.”

Wonwoo sighed and ran a hand through his wet curls. “It’s fine. I’m sorry I overreacted.”

“So… we’re good?” Mingyu asked, holding out a hand to help Wonwoo up.

“Yeah, we’re good. Next time, though, we’re playing fair.”

“Deal.”

“Y/n, you still want to go swimming, love?” Wonwoo asked, turning back to you.

“We’re not- we’re not going home?” Despite everything you were still incredibly horny, and you’d been patiently waiting for Wonwoo to rail you for what felt like hours now.

“Not yet,” he said and helped you to your feet. “Let’s make the most of our beach day.”

“I think the rest of us are going to find an ice cream shop,” Mingyu added. “Winners are buying. Do either of you want anything?”

“No thanks, we’ll hang out here by ourselves for a while.” Wonwoo answered for the both of you.

He wrapped an arm around your waist as you walked down to the water together and you relaxed, enjoying the feeling of his warm skin on yours. Only once you were out of Mingyu’s earshot did he lean down and whisper “your ass is going to be seven shades of red for that little stunt once we get home,” in your ear. Now it was your turn to be distracted.

lmk what you thought; i always appreciate feedback)

wonwoo tags: @wonw00t 

shoot me an ask if you’d like to be added to my taglist

[bedbellyandbeyond]

The Straw

(Story Post)

After a long day of work, the last thing Sydryn wanted to see was their refrigerator items strewn across the kitchen counters and floor while their sibling took a nap at the kitchen table. There were also several grocery bags among the catastrophe, heaped and overflowing with countless fluffy pink pastries. “What in the world is going on here?” Sydryn demanded, loud and stern enough to startle Seranan awake. “Sissy! What, oh…” Seranan sat up and looked around. “Oh, yes. I was just doing some reorganising… But then I got tired and took a nap, I guess.” “Reorganising my refrigerator? Full of my food?” Sydryn snarled. “Why in the world would you do this? Not to mention, you left the refrigerator door wide open!” “D'uh. How else would I access it during lengthy grocery reorganisation?” Seranan asked, propping up their head. “And I did it to fit in my groceries.” Sydryn picked up one of the shopping bags and held it open. “This is entirely roll cakes!” “Yes. Disgusting, I know. You can blame your little angel for introducing me. Now I have a wicked craving all the time,” Seranan groaned. “Don't blame Köbi for this! When did you even go out and get nine bags of these? You're not to leave the house!” Seranan rolled their eyes and tapped their phone on the table. “They have grocery delivery apps now. Join us in the 21st century, Sissy.” Sydryn fumed. “You of all dragons did not just tell me to modernise...” “Just because I'm a history hoarder does not mean I don't know how to use the internet,” Seranan huffed. Sydryn threw the grocery bag down and pointed to the hall. “Get out of my kitchen immediately!” Seranan rolled their eyes and got up, cradling their underbelly like it was such a struggle. “I bought them for you too, you know. The angel said they’re your favourite.” “Stop talking to Köbi!” Sydryn snarled.

“You should be happy we get along at all...” Seranan shrugged. “All your little pets typically piss me off.” “Köbi is not my pet, he is my employee,” Sydryn growled. “That kind of talk is exactly why I do not want you talking to him.” “Where is the little ‘employee’, anyway?” Seranan huffed. “He should be here to help clean up this mess...” “First of all, he is my assistant, not your maid. Second of all, I was going to ask you the same thing. I had to work late, so he should've been home over an hour ago.” Seranan shrugged. “I haven't seen him.” Sydryn sighed and stepped out into the hall. “Köbi?” they called up the stairs. Köbi poked his head out of the powder room just down the hall. “Yes?” “Ah. You are home. Seranan said they hadn't seen you.” “Huh?” Köbi walked over and looked into the kitchen. “You don't remember me coming in?” Seranan waved a hand. “How am I supposed to pay attention to what you’re doing all the time?” “But you asked for me the minute I got home. We had a whole conversation about where Syd buys their roll cakes,” Köbi reminded. “I thought that was yesterday.” “It was definitely today, because they would've been closed yesterday.” Seranan waved a hand. “Unimportant. Must have slipped my mind. Anyway, your employer's home. Shouldn't you have dinner prepared by now?” “You specifically asked me not to come into the kitchen since you would be occupying it during your delivery,” Köbi reminded. “Several times, I checked back to see if I could get dinner started, but you hissed me away." Seranan frowned and shrugged. Sydryn groaned and grabbed Seranan by the braid. “Clean up this mess immediately, or I will burn all of these desserts and you won't have any dinner tonight!” Seranan whined. “My tail! Sissy, that's so mean! You wouldn't starve a pregnant dragon, would you?” “Starve?” Sydryn motioned the plastic wrappers strewn across the kitchen table. “You've eaten twenty of these already!” “They hold absolutely no nutritional value, though...” “Then stop eating them!” “It's a craving! I can't help it!” Köbi waded through the sea of plastic grocery bags to get to the fridge. “I was going to make a roast, but I don’t really think there’s enough time, so how about…fettuccine?” “Absolutely not. I will vomit if I eat another beet coloured pink pasta noodle,” Seranan declared. Sydryn yanked their sibling’s hair again. “You’ll eat what you’re served.” They looked to Köbi, though. “I need meat.” “Okay… Uh, how about smoked meat sandwiches?” Köbi suggested. “Perfect. Thank you.” Seranan rolled their eyes. “Everything’s always smoked meat, pink pasta, rose tea, salmon, prawns, grapefruit…” With another swift yank, Sydryn spun their sibling around grabbed their wrist tightly. “Are you mocking my hoard?” Seranan snarled, scaling up under Sydryn’s grip. “…You’re hurting me, Sissy.” “Syd, let’s calm down…” Köbi said, reaching out to take the dragon’s arm. Sydryn flinched away. “Don’t! My sibling, whom I so graciously have been putting up and feeding while they escape prosecution for dracocide, seems to think they can have an opinion on how I run my house.” Seranan glared at Sydryn. “Colours are for children. Your hoard is stupid.” Sydryn’s eyes widened, a wild look of pure and concentrated wrath set ablaze inside them. “Syd! No!” A split second later, Köbi was between them, his hands up, his stance wide. Seranan was in shock, having been pushed back down into the kitchen chair, their sibling’s grip relinquished. Sydryn’s crazed look was gone, instead replaced with surprise and distress as they stared at the angel. Light dripped from his cheek as Köbi reached out and placed a hand on Sydryn’s shoulder. “Sleep.” “Köbi—” Before Sydryn could finish, they passed out, falling into the angel’s arms. Köbi grunted under the weight then sighed as they picked up the pregnant dragon bridal style. “You’re hurt,” Seranan finally emitted, slowly standing up. “They struck you.” “I’m fine. Just a little scratch.” Köbi wiped his cheek on his shoulder and the injury completely disappeared. “Better me than you.” “I would’ve been fine,” Seranan stated, straightening up. “Dragons can scar other dragons,” Köbi reminded. “And it’s Syd I’m concerned about. They’re strung out and emotional right now. If they really hurt you, I don’t think they could forgive themself.” Seranan frowned. “So, what are you going to do? They must be heavy…” “I’m going to put them to bed for now,” Köbi said, shaking his head. “But don’t worry about what I’m doing… If I were you, I’d consider cleaning things up around here a bit. Syd won’t stay asleep long. And I think after a long day, waking up to a meal made by family would just make my day. Wouldn’t you agree?” Seranan scrunched their nose. “…You can’t tell me what to do.” “I can’t. I can only make suggestions.” Köbi carried the slumbering dragon out to the hall. “I’ll come back in a minute to help.” The red dragon barely dignified that with a huff. Köbi just continued on, taking Syd up to their bedroom. As soon as they were tucked in, Sydryn began to wake up. “...Köbi.” They looked at the angel standing beside their bed. “Did I... Did I hurt you?” “No.” Köbi shook their head. “Must've been a bad dream.” “Angels shouldn't lie...” Sydryn sighed, rubbing their eyes. “I'm so sorry...” “No, I'm sorry for sleeping you without permission,” Köbi said. “I’m not supposed to touch you...” “You did what you had to,” Syd insisted. “It could have been bad... Is Seranan alright?” Köbi nodded. “Yeah. They're perfectly fine. Don't worry about them. Tell me about your day. What's got you so riled up?” Sydryn sighed and sat up. “Everything. I have patients who shouldn't be getting pregnant getting pregnant, almost getting pregnant, and I'm pregnant, and I also have to keep an eye on Gardi, even though he wants more responsibilities, and Ix and I are supposed to be collaborating on the celestial pregnancy research, but beyond that, they hardly say a word to me and I wonder if somehow I've upset them in some way... I don't know. I genuinely enjoy working with them, but not when they won't even look me in the eyes.” “Oh. Oh, um...” Köbi rubbed his neck. “Well, if you're worried about Ix, I think you should just talk to them about it. With Reid, from what I can tell, he's pretty much fully recovered. If you trusted him to manage your practice while you were away in the Fall, I think you can trust him now. And as for all the patients, maybe giving Reid more responsibilities would be a good thing. You really need a break. You're putting a lot of stress on yourself.” Sydryn shook their head. “I can't take a break. There's too much going on and even if I let Gardi have more responsibilities, he can't take all of them on.” Köbi tilted his head. “Well, right now, you really should just rest. When dinner's ready, I'll bring it up.” “No, I should probably come down and apologise to Seranan,” Sydryn decided. Köbi shook his head. “I don't think you're ready for that. Wait for them to come to you.” Syd sighed, laying their head down. “...Alright. Thank you, Köbi.” “Don't mention it.” Köbi made his way back down the kitchen where Seranan was now trying to stuff away their groceries into any empty cupboard space they could find. Kobi noticed some bread and meat had been pulled out and placed on the kitchen table as well. “Looks like you got started,” Köbi said delighted. “I’ll get the rest out, and—” “I don’t need your help, I am perfectly capable of constructing a few sandwiches…” Seranan growled. “Go about your business.” “Okay… I just wanted to add, um…” Köbi rubbed his neck. “I’m sorry I prioritised Syd in the situation when they lashed out. After what you’ve been through before, I can understand if this situation was…difficult for you.” Seranan’s eyes narrowed as they turned their gaze onto the angel in disgust. “If you’re trying to suggest that any of my experiences have left me weak with ‘emotional trauma’ or some kind of ‘victim complex’, you are sorely mistaken.” “Alright. Well, just so you know, you can always talk to me,” Köbi stated. “Actually, I’ve been explicitly told not to talk to you, and from this point on, I plan to follow along.” “Okay.” Köbi shrugged. “Well, I like pickles with my smoked meat sandwiches.” “I fail to see the one who asked!” Köbi chuckled before backing out. “Talk to you later, then.” “You will not!”

[dhwty-writes]

Prompt: toads. Just toads.

...are you the socks anon...? If so, you leave fantastic prompts! If not, I’ve got two anons who do :D All the better

Anyways, here is TOADS! I had a field trip with this. There's two horrible poems, friendly dunking and wrestling, and two grown men running after a single toad while trying not to laugh too hard. Have fun!

Read on AO3

"Gracious gods, Geralt, did you really have to take this contract?" Jaskier complained loudly and wiped his grimy hand on his breeches.

"Hm," the witcher grunted very unhelpfully and ducked down into the reed again.

"I mean, reall- eww," he tried to wipe his hair from his forehead and managed to smear mucky pond water all over it. "'Collect some toad toes', what kind of contract is that? And why in Melitele's cursed name do you need a witcher for it?"

"Told you, Jaskier," Geralt muttered and he could hear the tell-tale sign of two empty hands clapping together. "It's for a friend."

"Some kind of friend that is..."

He groaned and stood upright again. "Have you caught anything yet?"

"Of course not," Jaskier huffed and waded over to him. At least the way the mud squelched between his toes felt nice.

"A toady monster shall be slain,

But how can I praise prettily

That venerable victory,

If the white wolf cannot stake his claim?"

He slung an arm around his shoulders and revelled in the sight of Geralt staring at him intently.

"For I am but a humble bard,

Who, when he woke with a start

This morning, didn't think he would depart

With this stunning piece of art-"

"What?!" Geralt snapped and Jaskier had a hard time not to double over laughing.

"-who lives up to ev'ry ounce of his fame,

That I have equipped him with,

The man, the witcher, the myth,

Geralt of Rivia is his name!

But if you bet on him, go to your broker,

He can't catch a measly croaker.”

Geralt growled menacingly. 

"You don't like it?" Jaskier frowned. "Alright, let me start over.

Though he's surely not a savage beast, 

He pried me from a lover's side, 

To go for a different kind of ride. 

And I swear there was a growl at least.

 He led me into the forest deep, 

To a pond that stank to the skies, 

Where we were attacked by vicious flies,

Far away from any town or keep.  

 There he said to me: 

"Get right into the fray,

On this superb sunny summer day, 

Forget the bed where you could still be,

 Forget the adventure on the roads,

And collect some fucking toads."

 Geralt glowered darkly and Jaskier smiled brightly. "What," he growled quietly, "the fuck?!"

Now he couldn't hold back the laughter anymore. "Oh, my dear witcher, the look on your face! If you could just see yourself, you-"

"Bard," he rumbled, "you're treading on very thin ice."

"-I mean, what was it that brought your mind to a screeching halt? The alliterations? The rhymes? I think I crafted those two sonnets just marvelousl- fuck!" 

He had scarcely any chance to react before Geralt wrapped both of his arms tightly around his waist and tackled him into the water.

He thrashed around wildly, kicked and scratched and bit, and even tried to scream, although he wasn't very successful, just to pull Geralt down into the water with him. 

They were still scrambling at each other when they resurfaced, Geralt attempting a chokehold and Jaskier pulling at his hair. "Fuck!" he howled, soaking wet and fuming. "Geralt, you brute, you ruined my new shirt!"

"You wrote two fucking sonnets because I can't catch a bloody toad!" he barked and dunked him again. This time he landed a vicious kick into the hollow of his knee that made the witcher grunt as his legs buckled beneath him.

"Bastard bard...," he grunted and hauled him up.

Jaskier grinned widely. "Witless witcher," he countered and dealt a blow that Geralt had taught him. Roach let out a judgemental snort and moments later Jaskier discovered why: The punch had been a severe miscalculation, for Geralt saw it coming. He deflected his punch and before he even knew what was happening, he fell face first into the mud. "Elgh, Geralt, that's disgusting!" he complained and struggled to get to his feet. 

He rose up to shaky knees, but Geralt was on him again, smearing the muck into his hair. "Do you yield?" he asked and rubbed it in deeper. "Do you yield already, Jaskier?"

"I don't, I don't!" he screeched and Roached moved as far away from them as the lead rope let her. "Big bloody bastard man, get off me so, I can repay you, you- Geralt!"

The witcher laughed and attempted to push him into the mud again. "What? D'you want more?"

"No, look! Toad!"

And there it was, mere inches from their faces, staring at them with large eyes. It croaked quietly.

"Get it!" Jaskier screamed. "Fucking get it!"

He didn't need to, for Geralt was lunging already, hands outstretched. With a deafening SPLASH he landed in the mud, the wet squelching sound soon drowned out by Geralt's laughter.

"It's getting away!" He scrambled to his feet, slipping and sputtering, dashing after the small animal. "Fuck, Geralt, keep up, it's getting away!"

"I'm coming," he assured him, still fighting the giggles, but sprinting after the toad all the same. "There it goes!"

"Where, where?" Jaskier skidded to a halt and landed on his butt again. "Bollocks, I've missed it!"

Geralt ran further ahead, trying to reach down a few times, but evidently missing. 

Jaskier tried to stand up again, hindered by the peals of laughter that bubbled out of his mouth when he watched the six-foot-two-hundred-pound witcher try to scoop up a single toad, completely unaware of his surroundings. "Watch out!" he wanted to shout, but before he even completed the sentence, Geralt had already noisily collided with a tree.

He groaned quietly, rubbing at his shoulders. "Fuck," he muttered and Jaskier had to sit down again, holding his aching belly.

"Geralt, please," he wheezed, "I can't take it-"

"Jaskier!" he bellowed. "It's coming your way!"

"Fuck!" He was right, there it was hopping towards him. He bit down hard on his lip, to keep from laughing and gathered the last bit of his strength to throw himself at the beast, effectively squashing it beneath him. "I've got it!" he cried triumphantly. "Geralt, I've got i- yuck, it's slimy, Geralt, come, quick, it's icky!"

"I'm here, I'm here," the witcher assured him and crouched down beneath him. "Where is it?"

"Nooo, eww, it's trying to squeeze into my shirt! I don't want it on my skin, I don't want it, Geralt, help!"

"Where is it, where?" he asked again, squeezing his hands beneath Jaskier's upper body in search of the nasty little fiend.

"On the left, higher, no, higher; are you groping me, you bastard? Stop that, get this thing off me first!"

"I've got it!"

"Good," Jaskier sighed with relief, "now get off me."

"Can't. I've got it in both my hands and you're spread-eagled on them."

"I'm very much not," he huffed, but wriggled out of his arms nevertheless. Not without using Geralt's forehead as leverage for his foot while pushing away, of course. "Spread-eagled," he muttered. "As if I ever did such a thing..." He got to his feet, dusting off his pants in habit. The only thing it managed was smearing the mud further. "Gross," he muttered. "What now, Geralt?"

"I'm supposed to only bring the toes," Geralt said with a grimace.

"Pfft. Your 'friend' can cut them off themself, if they insist on it. I'm not touching that thing ever again. It's far too well acquainted with my body already."

 "Hmm. We still have to transport it there somehow." He looked around the small clearing. They had rid themselves of armour, doublets and boots before wading into the water and left them with Roach, who was staring at them disapprovingly. Jaskier's lute was with her, too, and-

"Ohh, no!" he declared loudly and backed up. "No, no, no, no, no! I won't, Geralt."

"Come on," he taunted, "do it for a friend."

"A friend?! Oh, now we're friends! Yeah, that sounds convenient!"

"Jaskier..."

"No, Geralt, you can't ask that of me. That's beyond cruel, even for you, and-"

"We have to put it somewhere, Jaskier. We don't have anything else where it might fit."

"No, and that's my last word."

"Fine," he growled and folded his legs beneath him, "I'll take you to Oxenfurt for the Bardic Festival this year."

He narrowed his eyes at him. "Keep talking."

"If you win all your celebratory indulgences are on me." 

He raised his eyebrows.

Geralt sighed heavily. "And if you lose to Valdo Marx, I'll help you pelt him with rotten fruit when he goes to accept his prize."

Jaskier beamed at him. "I love to do business with you, Geralt!" He sauntered over to Roach and untied his lute case from her saddle. Gently he took out his priced instrument and wrapped it in his doublet — that was clean, at least — and approached Geralt with his newly empty lute case. "I swear to every god out there, if it shits into my lute case, I'll rip you a new one."

"Hmm," he answered and lowered his hands into it. "Quick, close it!" he hissed. He pulled his hands out, the lid snapped shut and they both threw themselves onto it to keep it that way.

Together they closed the buckles and only when Geralt had inspected them they dared to breathe a sigh of relief.

"Fuck," Jaskier muttered emphatically, sinking to the muddy ground next to Geralt. 

"Hmm," he agreed.

He cautiously eyed the brackish water: "I need a bath."

"Not here," Geralt grunted and struggled to his feet. "We'll get a warm one once we deliver that fucking beast." Jaskier took the offered hand and reluctantly put on his boots again. 

With his toad-infested lute case slung over his shoulder and the lute cradled in his arms he fell into step next to Geralt. He delighted in the smiles and japes he could pry out of his usually taciturn friend. 

Entertained like that the way to the remote tower in the middle of fucking nowhere didn't seem quite as bad as before. Once they got there, he almost wasn't angry anymore. 

They knocked and were quickly ushered in once Geralt gave his name and the name of the witch that lived there — one Triss Merigold. The servant took one look at them before leading them to a room with a sizable bath in the middle.

"Oh, fun!" Jaskier said. "Someone's got manners."

Geralt snorted and crossed his arms. "He's saying you stink."

"Pffft, pish posh. As if you smell any better, you-"

Unfortunately, their banter was cut short when the door opened and a beautiful woman with dark curls entered. "Geralt," she said with a smile, "you've brought a friend- what on earth happened to you?"

"Jaskier the Bard," he answered and bowed with a flourish, "at your service, Madam." He produced the lute case and held it out with a wide grin. "We've retrieved your toad. Slipped in a bit of mud in the process."

The sincere smile on her face faltered, reduced to a confused, albeit polite one. "My... toad?"

"Toad toes," Geralt ground out, "what you wanted."

And then, the miracle that made sure Jaskier would never forget that day occurred: a sorceress was stunned speechless before his very eyes. "Toad toes," she repeated slowly. "That's what you got me?"

"Yes."

"Well, not quite," Jaskier cut in. "It seemed a bit cruel to rid the poor thing of his toes, truth be told. So, we procured the whole animal. If you'd be so kind to relieve us of it? I'd like my lute case back, thank you very much."

"Geralt..." A grin tugged at the edge of her mouth. "You're no stupid man. What exactly did I tell you to retrieve?"

He frowned deeply. "Toe of frog."

"Is that a problem?" Jaskier asked without lowering the case. "Come on, that can't be a problem! Toad, frog, that's practically the same thi- wait a minute. What did you just say?"

"Toe of frog," he repeated, obviously very confused.

"Toe of frog? No, Geralt, please tell me this isn't happening."

"What?"

"Toe of frog," Triss supplied helpfully, "is a flower. Not an animal. Buttercups, to be precise." She giggled quietly and took the lute case. "Don't worry. I'll clean it. You two go on and clean yourselves. Dinner's in three hours, you can try again tomorrow." With that she left the room, a sly smile on her lips. 

"Oh, I can't believe it," Jaskier groaned. "All of that for nothing? Couldn't you have asked her what she wanted toe of frog for? Couldn't you have told me? I would've known! But no, instead you say 'fucking toad feet'. Those are not the same, Geralt!"

He still stared after her. "Fuck," he muttered.

"Unbelievable!" he threw his hands up. "I want a bath, now. So, out with you." He walked over to the large tub and tugged the shirt over his head. 

"Hm." 

He turned and quirked an eyebrow. "What?"

"What you said earlier... Technically, I got the toad off you."

Jaskier prided himself on being a man who had travelled wide and far, and seen enough of the world that nothing short of the impossible could shock him. So, he wasn't ashamed to say his jaw dropped when he heard that. "Are you serious?" he spluttered.

"You're the one who said I could grope him if I got that thing off him."

"Geralt of Rivia," a wide grin spread on his face, "you impossible man."

He grinned, too, and pulled him closer by the hips. "Is that a yes?"

"'Is that a yes?'" he mocked him affectionately. "'Is that a yes?' asks the man who insulted my poetry, dunked me under water, slammed me into mud and smeared it all over my hair, made me chase after a toad, and, if that wasn't enough, made me carry said slimy, despicable animal in my beloved lute case. All in the span of one afternoon!"

"Mhm. Sounds like a horrible person." 

"The worst." He sighed and slung his arms around his neck. "He also happens to be my best friend, who I love very much and who I am very angry at, at the moment."

"And what do you propose we do about that?"

"Kiss me," he ordered, "clean me, and take me to bed."

Geralt grinned. "That I can do." He bowed down and kissed him very gently on the lips. He wanted to pull away again, so Jaskier whined and tightened his grip. Geralt chuckled and deepened the kiss, drawing delicious little moans and gasps from Jaskier's lips and even a quiet squeal when he simply picked him up and began crossing the room. It was everything his fantasies had promised to be, sweet, heated, and pas-

All of the sudden the world dropped out beneath him. Jaskier had barely time to shout before he hit the water once again and the bottom of the tub shortly after. It took him significantly less time to resurface, though. "Geralt of Rivia!" he bellowed indignantly, wiping water and softened mud from his face.

The witcher only laughed and stripped to join him in the bath. 

 Send me prompts

[pixiegrl]

hi my love, “I made this for you.” with cake please 💕

Hi sweetheart!!! You had suggested I do this as a paper rings thing bc i said I wanted to write a Cake proposal and I turned this into a 5+1 for different ways that Calum could propose! I hope you like it!!

On ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28757919

“Honey, I’m home,” Calum calls as he enters the house. Luke winces when he hears the front door slam, Duke starting to bark loudly at the noise. Petunia is unbothered by the noise, continuing to snore on the couch as Calum tries to shush Duke, making his way through the house to the kitchen. 

Luke glances up from where he’s been standing at the sink, cleaning up the dishes from his earlier attempt at making banana bread.  Calum’s holding too many Target bags in his hands for the simple trip for groceries that he went on. Luke raises an eyebrow at Calum, giggling when Calum looks away bashfully from Luke’s eyes. Calum peeks over Luke’s shoulder before turning to look at the bread on the cooling rack.

“Ooo, did you make banana bread?” 

“Yes, just for you. You wouldn’t stop talking about it and we had bananas that were getting ready to turn anyway so I just used them,” Luke says, turning to Calum, leaning in for a kiss. Calum rolls his eyes, granting Luke a quick kiss on the lips before setting the Target bags down on the counter.

“Well then, I guess you don’t need the sweets I bought from Target,” Calum teases. Luke perks up, hurrying to dry his hands off to see what Calum’s bought. Luke starts rummaging around in the bags, pulling out snack packs of fruits and nuts, chips, dog treats, a little neon heart light he’s bought because it reminded him of Luke, and some fake succulents he’s bought as well. 

Calum pulls out two bags of chocolate he’s bought before he grins triumphantly, pulling a pack of cupcakes from another bag. They’re chocolate and vanilla, covered in pink and red frosting, clearly meant for Valentine’s Day. The thing that gets Luke though, is the little plastic rings adorning the cupcakes. They’re big and pink, heart shaped atop the cupcakes. Luke can see the front from here, pretty cursive that says things like I Love You and Be Mine. Luke giggles looking at them, charmed by the sweet, simple nature of them.

Calum grins, popping the lid of the container open, dropping dramatically to one knee and holding out a cupcake to Luke. Luke’s heart starts to pound a little, heart jumping into his throat at the idea of Calum asking Luke to marry him. 

“Hey Luke, will you be mine?” Calum giggles, as Luke takes the cupcake from him. Luke doesn’t want to admit that it disappoints him a little, knowing that Calum’s only teasing him. Luke tries to cover it up with a forced smile.

“Are you asking me to marry you with a cupcake ring Cal?” Luke asks, popping the ring off the cupcake and licking the frosting off. Calum laughs, pushing himself from his kneeling position, watching Luke put the ring onto his left ring finger as he peels the wrapping off the cupcake.

“Are you accepting?”

“I don’t think so. You’re a world famous musician. I’m holding out for a better ring,” Luke says airly, trying to cover up his racing heart at the idea that Calum might be asking him to get married for real. Calum hums, leaning down to pick Duke up in his arms, letting Duke lick his face excitedly as he pets him.

“You’re being a diva, Luke. Demanding a nicer ring.”

“I think I’m well within my rights to ask for a nicer ring than a plastic one from a cupcake. We’ve been together for five years. I demand nothing less than a diamond and a proposal of you waxing poetry about your love for me,” Luke teases, licking icing from the cupcake. Calum laughs, swiping some icing from the cupcake and bopping Luke’s nose with it. He goes cross eyed looking at it, trying to wipe his nose off.

“Diva. You just want to be told how much I love you.”

“Is that a crime?”

“It’ll go to your head and you’ll be even worse than you already are.”

Luke rolls his eyes, “See if I share my banana bread with you.”

“See if I share anymore of my cupcakes and rings with you,” Calum shoots back. He sets Duke down on the floor, leaning over to press a kiss to Luke’s cheek and starting to clean the groceries up. Luke doesn’t want to admit he’s a little sad at having only gotten a joking, fake proposal instead of a real one. 

***

Luke and Calum are on a mission to clean their house up. Neither of them got the clean genes in the band, but Luke’s trying to turn over a new leaf in the new year. He’s on a kick to deep clean their whole house, despite Calum’s protests for a relaxing Saturday. 

“The whole of not being on tour means that we get to relax,” Calum whines from the bedroom. Luke’s tasked him with going through their closet, pulling out things they don’t wear anymore so they can get rid of them. Luke’s in the bathroom, trying to scrub the tile in the shower. He knows he’s picked the more daunting task, scrubbing at it with cleaning powder and a sponge, but Luke’s anxiety has been acting up lately and the methodical, repetitive task is helping put the loop in his head at ease.

“The whole point of being on tour means we’re home now. Which means now we should actually enjoy the home we live in.”

“By cleaning?”

“It’ll help with the vibes.”

“I hate that you’ve said that. I hate even more that I understand what you mean,” Calum calls back. Luke laughs, burying his face into his elbow to muffle some of his laughter. It shouldn’t be as funny as it is. Maybe Luke’s high from the cleaning fumes.

“Oh my god Luke! Guess what I’ve just found,” Calum calls, giddy and laughing. Luke sits back, taking a rest on the soft carpet on the floor and turning around to see Calum rush into the bathroom. He’s holding a small black ring in his fingers, grinning widely, eyes crinkled at the corners. Luke squints, standing up and getting closer to Calum to take a look. Luke raises his eyebrows when he realizes what it is.

“Is that my old lip ring?” Luke asks in wonder as he looks at it. Calum laughs, delighted.

“It is! Good, can you believe I found this? It’s been five years since you’ve worn it at least.”

“I dropped the lip ring for you,” Luke says, grinning.

“I should have said no when you asked me out just for that. I only agreed because you looked sexy with a lip piercing and then you get rid of it a week later.”

“It just didn’t fit my vibe anymore.”

“Might look nice with it again.”

“Please, I’m an adult now. Maybe I’ll get a nose piercing instead. Or my cartilage.”

“Hmmm, you would look hot with a nose piercing. You have the right nose for it,” Calum says, reaching over to bop Luke on the tip of his nose. Luke giggles. 

“I’ll keep that in mind for your next birthday gift. Nose piercing.”

“Not your lip again?”

“Calum, if we’ve found a five year old lip ring, I think it’s a sign we need to clean the house more,” Luke says, rolling his eyes. Calum smiles mischievously.

“Luke Hemmings, with this lip ring, will you wed?” He teases, holding the ring out dramatically. Luke ignores the way his heart jackhammers at the sound of Calum proposing to him again. It’s silly and a joke and not real. Even if it thrills Luke to hear Calum say the words, to imagine what it would be like for the proposal to be real.

“Very funny Calum. Are you trying to make up for the plastic heart ring from last time?”

“Well, this one has more sentimental value. Although you did keep that heart ring, I remember,” Calum says. Luke blushes, glancing away. Luke thought he was doing a good job hiding the plastic ring from the cupcake in his nightstand. Clearly, Calum’s caught Luke anyway.

“I will not confirm nor deny the existence of such a ring,” Luke answers breezily, plucking the lip ring from Calum’s hand. Calum laughs, leaning in to kiss Luke gently.

“I’ll take that as a yes to both things,” Calum boosts, calling over his shoulder as he leaves the bathroom.

“I’m not agreeing to anything,” Luke answers. He looks at the ring in his hand. If he stores it in his pocket to add to the ring in his nightstand, well, no one but Luke has to know about that.

***

It’s too warm in the house today. The weather in LA is warming up and while the change is nice, Luke does not appreciate the sudden heat in the house. Luke’s taken to sitting outside in the pool, floating around on the pineapple shaped floatie he bought on a whim. It’s done nothing to cool him down, but it makes him feel nice at least. It’s more fun anyway than sitting out on the deck or sitting instead. 

Calum’s gone out to the store again, to buy more snacks and get away from Luke’s whining probably. Luke doesn’t mind either way, taking the time to float around, Petunia and Duke sitting on one of the deck chairs, sleeping soundly. Luke has  on Taylor Swift’s album Lover over the little portable speaker they have, feeling soft and warm in his chest today when he woke up to Calum curled into his side. They’d made breakfast together this morning, an excuse really to cuddle against each other in the kitchen, pressed close as they made waffles and coffee, kissing at every opportunity. It’s put Luke in a nice mood for the day, despite the heat and all, and when he’s in a good mood, he likes to put this album on. It makes him think of Calum, all soft pinks and blues, filled with love and warmth and promises of forever.

“Hey, lover boy,” Calum calls from the sliding door leading from the living room to the deck. Luke startles, jumping slightly and overturning the float into the water. Luke resurfaces, spitting out water and pouting as Calum laughs. Calum approaches the edge of the pool, jumping out of the way when Luke tries to splash him. Luke wades over to where Calum’s standing, shopping bag hanging from two fingers, grinning. He leans down, meeting Luke halfway as Luke stands on his tiptoes to press a kiss to Calum’s lips.

“You made me lose my sunglasses.”

“Aw come on now, you’re an Aussie. You can swim for them and everything,” Calum says, kicking off his sandals and putting the bag on the ground, so he can roll the legs of his pants up. Luke sighs heavily, pretending to be put out as he drives down in the pool to grab his sunglasses from where they’re sitting on the floor of the pool. He grabs them, coming up for air and shaking his hair out. Calum cries in mock upset as the water drops hit him, shielding his face from the water. Luke perks up when he notices the box of popsicles poking out of the bag, bright fruity flavored ones. Luke’s weak for them, something Calum clearly knows and is using to his advantage in the face of Luke’s whining about the heat. Calum laughs when he follows the track of Luke’s eyes, ripping the box open as Luke swims over.

“Dry your hands first,” Calum chides, holding out the beach towel resting by the side of the pool. Luke does so, making grabby hands for the popsicle once he’s dry, eagerly ripping open the white plastic, thrilled to find the orange flavored popsicle and licking at it. Calum laughs at Luke’s face, sucking on his own cherry popsicle.

“Thank you,” Luke mumbles around the popsicle in his mouth, words muffled. Calum giggles.

“You’re welcome sweetcheeks. Thought you deserved a treat with how much complaining you’ve been doing.”

Luke huffs, enjoying his popsicles, Taylor Swift filling the air. They finish their popsicles in comfortable silence, Luke biting at the stick when he’s done for something to do with his mouth.

“Oh!” Calum exclaims, startling Luke a little. Calum rummages around in the bag, pulling out a small bag and holding it out to Luke. Luke takes it from Calum, blushing when he realizes that it’s a ring pop.

“What is this Cal?”

“A ring pop. Remember those? I think this is blue raspberry flavored,” He says. Luke rips the foil open, pulling out the ring pop, blue lollipop and red plastic ring.

“You remembered?”

“That blue raspberry is your favorite flavor? Give me some credit as your boyfriend,” Calum jokes. Luke smiles.

“Thank you.”

“Wait!” Calum exclaims, holding his hand out for the ring.

“Come on Calum. You can’t be serious,” Luke groans. Calum continues to make grabby hands for the ring. Luke sighs, heavy and pretending to be put out. 

“You’re not going to give up, are you?”

“Nope. Better to just give it to me now and get it over it.”

Luke rolls his eyes, holding the ring gingerly in his fingers. Calum takes it from Luke, holding it out dramatically to him again.

“Luke. Love of my life. Darling. Sweetheart.”

“Does this have a point?”

“Rude. Here I am trying to propose to you and you just want to rush me along.”

“I want my ring pop before it melts in the sun with how long you’re taking.”

Calum sighs heavily, gesturing for Luke’s hand. Luke holds out his left hand, letting Calum slide the ring onto his ring finger.

“Will you marry me?”

“Hmmm, maybe. You’re getting closer to a yes, I will say that.”

“I’m going to dump you for Ashton if you don’t start appreciating my love.”

“Like Michael would let you get away with taking Ashton and overlooking him as a replacement,” Luke says, rolling his eyes.

“Take this seriously Luke.”

“You take it seriously. You don’t know how to propose properly.”

Calum rolls his eyes, huffing, “You know, one day I’m going to propose for real and you’re not going to know what to do.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Luke fires back, tampering down on the flare in his chest at the idea of Calum proposing for real, glancing away as Taylor Swift sings about love in the background, heart fond as Calum kicks his legs in the water, smiling softly at Luke, Luke smiling back and squeezing Calum’s ankle.

***

Luke wasn’t expecting to spend date night a planetarium, but he doesn’t think he should be surprised. Luke and Calum have both been fascinated by the stars for years, the idea that no matter where they are, everyone is sharing the same sky. It used to bring them comfort back when Calum was in Rio on his own, separated from Luke and Michael, and later when the four of them were living in England alone for the first time in their lives, thinking about their parents. 

The sky isn’t as much of a safety net as it once was, but Luke still adores the night skies, the stars. He and Calum like to lay out on the deck at night, staring up at the stars and claiming that they can see whatever shapes people swear are out there. Calum keeps saying they should buy a telescope, but they’re both lazy and keep putting it off.

It led to their date tonight, Luke and Calum sitting in a planetarium, listening to the narrator in the theater tell them about the stars and what’s up in the night sky. Luke keeps grabbing Calum’s hand, squeezing it excitedly everytime they see something interesting on the screen. Calum’s smiling fondly at Luke, squeezing back whenever Luke does it.

The man moves on to talking about the planets now, working his from Jupiter to Saturn, giving off fun facts about the planets.

Calum leans over, whispering into Luke’s ear, “Hey, you know what Saturn has?”

“What?”

“Rings,” Calum says, raising his eyebrows and wiggling them. Luke groans, letting his head fall back against the seat.

“Not this again Calum.”

“Hey! It’s a ring,” Calum says, the people around them shushing Calum when he gets too loud. Calum sinks down in the seat, embarrassed slightly at it. A few moments pass before Calum turns to Luke again.

“It counts Luke.”

“It does not. You cannot propose to me without something physical.”

“Why not? It’s a ring.”

“I will not say yes to a proposal that does not come with a physical ring,” Luke says, turning back to the presentation as the narrator moves onto the next planet. Luke thinks that’s the end of it, Calum going quiet next to him. Luke glances next to him, chest warming as he looks at Calum, bathed in galaxy lights, staring up at the ceiling in wonder. Luke’s almost forgotten about the exchange until they’re in the gift shop later, poking around. Calum lets out a little whoop of excitement, turning to Luke and poking him.

“What?” Luke asks, turning to Calum, going cross eyed at the postcard that Calum’s waving in his face.

“Look! It’s a postcard of Saturn!”

“Okay?”

“It’s a physical form of rings! I can propose to you with this!” Calum crows. Luke sighs heavily, rolling his eyes.

“Calum it still does not count. It’s not an actual ring.”

“Please Luke? Will you marry me?”

“If I say yes, will you drop the argument for including Saturn’s rings?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes Calum. I accept your bogus proposal,” Luke says. Calum shrieks in happiness, leaning over to press a kiss to Luke’s lips and rushing over to the cash register to buy Luke’s proposal “ring.” Luke sighs, pretending to be put out when Calum hands the postcard to him in a dramatic swipe. If the postcard goes up on their fridge, well, only Luke and Calum have to know about it, Calum grinning knowing and Luke rolling his eyes the whole time, pretending to be annoyed, but instead feeling fond and loved.

***

Calum’s on a weird art kick. It’s unusual for him. Usually, when Calum’s feeling creative, he plays his bass or writes songs, walking around the house humming under his breath. Today though, Calum has hidden himself away in the studio with some art supplies. He squirreled it all in there this morning, hiding it all from Luke and making Luke promise that he won’t come and look before Calum is ready to show him. Calum had claimed it was a surprise, despite Luke’s whining about being left out. Luke’s feeling very uncreative this morning, spending the day on the couch, flipping around the TV still he gets sucked into a marathon of Say Yes to the Dress.

Luke’s lost track of time, hollering at the TV and alternating between arguing with the family’s who won’t let brides wear what they want and brides who have poor fashion taste (Luke’s been in Fashion Week, he should know a little about fashion). He doesn’t even realize Calum’s standing there until he hears him clear his throat from the doorway. Luke startles a little, turning to look at Calum. Calum crosses the room, coming to stand next to the couch. He’s holding both hands behind his back as he drops to one knee. Luke swallows, panicking filling his throat. Is this really when Calum’s going to propose? Luke knows his answer, but he isn’t ready to say yes. He needs time to process this. 

Calum takes his hands out from behind his back, holding something up, held gingerly between both fingers. Luke squints, leaning forward to take a look at it. 

“Cal?”

“Yeah honey?”

“What is this?”

“It’s a ring. I made this for you,” Calum says. He’s holding the paper ring out to Luke, face open and eager. 

“I think you’re supposed to give it to me,” Luke says. Calum grins even wider. He takes Luke’s offered left hand, holding it in his own as he slides the ring onto Luke’s ring finger. Luke admires the paper. It’s a soft pale pink, slips of paper interwoven to create a braided effect, ends all tucked into one another. Luke can’t tell where the paper starts or ends.

“Do you accept my proposal?” Calum says, tone light and teasing. Luke glances up, noticing the nervous, worried flicker in Calum’s eyes at Luke’s hesitation. Luke smiles softly, tugging Calum closer, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“Are you proposing for real or just practicing?”

“Will that change your answer?”

“Well, I don’t want to get my hopes up if this is all just a trial run,” Luke says, aiming for casual, coming off as nervous instead.

Calum hums, “Maybe this is your proposal. A paper ring and my love.” 

Luke hums, examining the ring, “Pink is my color.” 

Calum grins, “Well then, Luke Hemmings, do you accept my pseudo proposal?” 

Luke huffs, smacking Calum’s shoulder, “Just for that I’m saying no Calum.” 

“Oh come on. You said you would say yes.” 

“Not if you’re going to mock me,” Luke says, haughty and trying to cover up the hurt in his voice as he stands from the couch. Luke knows it’s just silly teasing, a game between the two of them, but his heart aches everytime he thinks Calum is really proposing to him, only to be let down yet again. Luke wants to know when the proposal is going to be real. Luke places this ring away with the cupcake ring and lip ring to hold a special place in his heart until Calum is ready. 

***

Luke wakes up, frowning when he realizes that the bed is empty next to him. A quick glance at the clock confirms that it’s only 8:00am, far too early for Calum to be up and out of bed. Frowning, Luke rolls over onto his back, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. He gets a bearing of his surroundings, can hear Calum banging around in the kitchen. Curious, Luke gets out of bed and starts to head down to the kitchen. 

Calum’s in there, humming along to the music he’s playing through his phone speakers. He’s dancing around the kitchen slightly, coffee heating up, waffles cooking. Luke clears his throat, startling Calum and causing him to turn around. 

“Morning sunshine,” Calum says, grinning at Like. He looks nervous, which confuses Luke. He’s never seen Calum with this much energy in the morning. 

“Morning love. You’re making breakfast?” 

“Yep. Almost done. You should take a seat,” Calum says, jittery. Cautiously, Luke makes his way over to the table and sits down. He watches Calum plate the waffles, dumping blueberries and strawberries onto the plate as well and carrying them both over. He puts one in front of Luke and goes back for the coffee. He pours two mugs, bringing them over as well. He puts them down on the table, smiling down at Luke. 

Luke smiles back, “Are you serious you’re okay? You seem nervous.” 

Instead of answering, Calum drops down to one knee. Luke’s heart stops. He doesn’t know if he can take another fake proposal. Calum pulls a small velvet box out of his pockets. Oh...oh. Luke swallows. This is real, this is happening. Calum’s hands are shaking as he opens the box. It’s a beautiful ring, light blue stone set in a gold band. 

“Oh Calum. It’s beautiful,” Luke whispers. 

“Don’t say anything. I have a whole speech planned and you can’t distract me,” Calum says. Luke zips his lips, earning a nervous laugh from Calum. 

“Luke, I’ve known you for so long. It’s hard to put a number on it because it feels like forever. You’re a part of my days, my life, my being. Everything you do just puts me more and more in awe of you. You’re a bright, sunny, wonderful part of my day. I don’t know what I would do without you. When I picture the future, I picture you in it. Growing older, getting more dogs, maybe a kid. I always picture you. Our lives are ever changing, but you are the one constant in my life. I love you so much. Luke Robert Hemmings, will you marry me?” Calum asks, holding the ring box up. Luke whispers out a barely audible yes, nodding fervently. Calum’s face breaks out into a wide grin, pulling the ring from the box and sliding it onto Luke’s finger with shaking hands. 

Luke thinks he might be crying as he pulls Calum in for a kiss, but it doesn’t seem to matter, Calum’s face equally wet with tears as they kiss, ring band digging into Calum’s cheek. 

“See, I told you I had a good plan. You just had to wait,” Calum says when they pull apart. Luke rolls his eyes, pulling Calum down onto his lap. 

“Sap,” Luke says fondly, burying his face into Calum’s neck. Calum’s smile is in his voice as he plays with Luke’s curls. 

“ Got you to say yes.” 

“Fine fine, maybe all your other proposals were good prep,” Luke says, rolling his eyes when Calum laughs. It doesn’t matter either way. No matter how many ways Calum’s proposed to him, this one way is Luke’s favorite. It’s sentimental and true and real. Luke is Calum’s and Calum’s is Luke’s. Forever and ever now. All the other parts are just fluff as long as they have each other.  

[ampmiscfiles]

The Webs We Weave: Chapter 29

Start From The Beginning

Luke groaned as he opened his eyes. Looking around, he found Danny and Jessica laid out on the ground beside him. The room they were in was plain and vacant. It clearly wasn’t meant to house anyone.

“I feel like shit.” Jessica groaned, sitting up and holding her head. “Worse than any hangover I’ve ever had.”

“That’s impressive.” Danny mumbled into the floor.

“Shut up you ass.” she huffed, shoving him.

“As fun as it is to hear you two bicker, we got bigger problems.” Luke grunted, pushing himself up off the floor and walking to the door.

“Seems like a poor attempt to keep us hostage if they put us in here.” Danny frowned.

“All the better for us.” Luke said, pulling back his fist and slamming it into the door and flying back into the wall.

“Holy shit!” Jessica screamed, rushing to Luke’s side had his entire arm looked burnt. “What the hell was that?”

“Not as poor an attempt as I thought.” Danny winced as he looked over Luke’s arm.

“It’s a-”

“High powered electric field.” Norman’s voice cut off Luke’s reply. “It would be very foolish to keep three powerful individuals like you in such a simple room. Don’t worry though, you won’t be here long. I just have some things to take care of first.”

“You better hope your little field holds up Osborn.” Luke growled. “Cause it won’t be pretty if I get my hands on you.”

“You’ll find I’m not very concerned with what actually happens to any of you.“

They could hear the dismissal in his voice.

"I’m more concerned with the idiot ‘billionaire, playboy, philanthropist’ and the special little spider I’ve managed to catch. Enjoy your stay.”

The sound of the speaker crackled out as Jessica erupted into curses.

Danny felt around his ear, taking note for the first time that his communicator was missing. Unless Jessica or Luke had theirs, there was no way to reach Frank.

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

Felicia wiped her eyes as she continued down the tunnel. They had no idea where Peter and Tony had gone. They had no idea if continuing down the tunnels would even help them at all. No one knew where they all went anyway! What if they never found them? What if Norman already had them? What if whoever Norman was working for had his own plans for Peter? It wouldn’t be the first time someone would think they could experiment on him.

She wiped her eyes again.

She wanted her Peter.

If-no-when they got him back, he was going to be on house arrest until she deemed him safe enough to return to the outside.

It shouldn’t be to hard to keep him indoors. He’d have unpacking to do in his and Wade’s new apartment after all.

She sniffled.

“Hey,” Bucky said, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her into a hug. “We’re going to find him. I won’t just leave one of my idiot brothers behind.”

“One of your brothers?” Felicia asked, her face buried in his chest.

“Yeah.” Bucky chuckled. “Steve is idiot brother number one, Peter is idiot brother number two.”

Felicia giggled as she clutched his shirt tighter, enjoying the warmth of his arms around her.

“Usually Peter would have something snarky to say at this point.” she smiled.

“All the more reason to keep going. We’ve got to find him and take care of this Norman guy. We’ve all got lives to get back to that don’t involve a lunatic with a Halloween fetish.”

“Yeah. I’ve got to tell him how you held my dainty figure in your strong, masculine arms while I cried for him.” she snickered as Bucky choked.

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

Wade Wilson knew fury. He knew the dark desire revenge could be. He had given into that desire often enough to consider himself an expert.

Having Peter taken from him brought that dark desire front and center. He itched to pull the triggers of his guns, or swing the sharp blades of his katanas through someone’s flesh.

His thoughts were dark, and bloody. His ideas involved trails of blood and dismembered body parts. No, Peter wouldn’t like it, but he didn’t have to know either. Wade would never enact such things in front of his baby boy.

Still, if Wade was seething, murderous vengeance, he wasn’t sure what to describe the thing next to him as.

At this point, Wade had seen Matthew Murdock in various stages of emotions, but this was an entirely different beast.

For the first time ever, Wade realized the ‘Devil’ in Matt’s vigilante title might mean more than he thought.

A darkness seemed to roll off his shoulders. He was to silent to be natural.

Even the brat had noticed.

While he hadn’t been really interested in talking to either of them after the big reveal of Spider-Man’s identity, the kid was even quieter now.

“So, I can’t believe I’m the one asking this, but what’s our plan?” Wade said, breaking the tense silence.

Matt stopped completely, his face turned straight ahead.

“You two will get Peter and Stark. I will handle whoever’s there.”

“You wait a sec-”

Wade grunted as he was slammed into the wall, Matt’s arm buried in his throat.

“You listen to me Wilson, I won’t repeat myself. You two will get Peter and Stark and get them to safety. We have no idea what kind of shape we’re going to find them in. Considering our situation, I seriously doubt either of them would be any use to us. I need to know Peter is safe. I trust you to follow directions and get him out.

"Bu-” Wade choked as Matt pressed harder.

“My son was taken from me. You may be dating him Wilson, but he was my kid first. I made a promise to his aunt to get him out. I can die, Wade, you can’t. If anyone can make sure Peter gets out, it’s you. That’s always going to be your role. Peter is always going to be your job to protect. If you decide to ignore me and fight whoever we find, you better hope I die there. If I don’t, I’ll make it a personal goal to find a way to make sure you do. I’ll do what I have to, regardless of what it means for me.”

Matt growled as he released Wade and shoved him to the side before turning to Harley.

“The same thing goes for you. Get Stark out.”

“And if they’re fine?” Wade coughed, standing up fully. “You know Pete isn’t just gonna stand aside.”

“Then you better make sure he’s not alone.”

Even after being surrounded by Avengers, looking at Daredevil, Harley felt he could finally see what being a real hero really meant.

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

Tony winced as his eyes cracked open to bright lights. His head throbbed and he felt sore. Peeling his eyes open slowly, he took note of his state. He was in a propped up position, but strapped to a metal table. Across from him, in the same situation, was a still unconscious Peter.

“Peter? Peter! Wake up kid!”

“He’s not going to hear you, Stark. I was very careful about how much sedative I gave him over you. I wanted us to have a few moments together.”

Tony growled as Norman stepped up beside him.

“I have to say, while I was hoping to catch two birds with one stone, you weren’t the other bird. Still, I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“Who was crazy enough to let you out?” Tony glared.

“There was a time I would have risen to that bait, but I believe that out of the two of us, I’m not the one who has anything to worry about.” Norman smirked, moving over to Peter.

“He’s something else, isn’t he?” Norman asked, running a finger down Peter’s cheek. “A marvel for sure.”

“Don’t touch him!”

“Has he ever really discussed himself with you?” Norman asked, moving away from Peter, ignoring Tony.

“He’s done research on himself, you know. Extensive research. He’s accessed my servers to an extent Harry doesn’t even know about.”

Tony frowned, wondering where this was going.

“You know, the spider’s venom he received was never meant for human experimentation…..at least not when he was bitten. My people had run multiple tests on them and had been recording the changes in their poison. It was a secret project, so there were no time constraints.

One of the very few projects I gave free reign to.

I needed it to be perfect before anyone could know about it….and they were making progress all the time.” Norman looked over at a large monitor detailing information on the spiders.

“What was the project supposed to be?” Tony asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“Once properly developed, they would be harvested to create a new breed of super soldiers…ones that would put Steve Rogers to shame. It isn’t a coincidence that Peter’s abilities are greater than Captain America’s. That was always the point.

"You just said it was never meant for human experimentation!”

“I said the spider that bit Peter wasn’t meant for human experimentation. None of the spiders in that batch were even remotely ready to be harvested. Truthfully, the fact he’s even alive is incredible. The venom literally altered his DNA.” Norman paused, looking from the screens to Peter.

“He’s far to precious to be out unsupervised. You had no idea what you had with him.” Norman said, glaring at Tony. “He nearly died the time he saved your ass by protecting your precious Stark property!”

“How about when you attacked him!”

Norman laughed as Tony fumed, guilt over the entire event of Peter’s Homecoming night gnawing at him.

“If you ever thought Peter’s life was really in danger, you’re more of an idiot than I took you for. While I didn’t know who was under the mask, I would never have killed them. They were far more valuable alive than dead. That said, he wasn’t going to come in quietly, and his abilities made close combat difficult to achieve. Naturally, I had to up the ante to acquire him. Admittedly, I underestimated the intelligence under the mask. It wasn’t simply brute force that beat me. Peter’s mind works amazingly fast to try and analyze everything around him.”

Tony didn’t respond, he didn’t need to. He was fully aware of the brilliance of Peter’s brain. While he would never flat out say anything to Harley, if Peter had decided to return to him and SI, he would easily put him as the main inheritor to the company.

Harley was smart and could most likely run the business perfectly but , he could be rash and come off a bit abrasive. Peter on the other hand, was extremely intelligent with a calm and friendly personality. Out of the two, people would most likely be more willing to deal with Peter than Harley…..kind of like how people were more willing to deal with Pepper than him.

Still, none of that mattered if they didn’t get out of here.

“Oh yes, you know all about him though, don’t you?” Norman sneered, sarcasm heavy in his voice.

“You know all about his perfect grades from the moment he entered school till he left. You know all about his life before his uncle passed.”

“I know they haven’t had it easy-“

“All you know about him is what any idiot can look up. You know nothing about what the Parker’s have experienced emotionally. Peter and Harry have been friends since they were very young. I’ve watched Peter grow up. I was around when he lost his parents. I went with my wife and son to the funeral. His parents were brilliant scientists.”

Norman chuckled, looking at Peter.

“He definitely took after them.”

Taking a breath, Norman moved to a small table and picked up a glass cube.

“I had hoped spending time with Peter would have been good for Harry. Maybe get him on the right track. Unfortunately, Harry will never amount to anything.”

“He seems to be running Oscorp just fine .” Tony sneered. “Better than you.”

“I’ll give it to him on one thing.” Norman said, walking up to Tony. “He made a smart move hiring Peter for the pharmaceutical department.”

Tony glared as Norman stopped before him. A sly grin spread across the man’s face as he held up the glass cube.

“Anyway, what do you think?”

Tony looked into the cube, taking in the small spider suspended inside. There was nothing special in the way it looked, but he had a pretty good idea of its importance.

“I’m sure you know why I’m showing you this. It’s the very spider that bit Peter.” he twirled the glass.

“It was found on the floor after the field trip had ended. At the time, we all assumed the spider had just died being outside of it’s controlled environment.”

Norman chuckled at himself.

“I’m honestly ashamed of myself for taking so long to put the pieces together on where Spider-Man might have gotten his abilities. Of course, when I did, I tried to offer him a place as a partner. With his abilities, given by me by the way, we could have made a formidable team.”

“How’d that work out for you?”

“It wasn’t to surprising.” Norman shrugged. “Spider-Man had chosen the path of the hero long before I got to him. It was just disappointing.”

“When did you figure out it was Peter under the mask?”

“Oh, I have you to thank for that.” Norman laughed.

“Think back, Tony Stark . Think back to the early days of a certain webslinger. Think back to a moment in time where you failed him by not trusting him over your own issues.”

Tony frowned, feeling like he should know where Norman was going, but missing something.

“Does the moniker of ‘Vulture’ ring any bells?”

Tony’s eyes widened.

“Oh yes. He was willing to keep Peter’s secret, until he was offered his freedom. It’s amazing what people will do for the chance to get what they want. For Toomes it was his family, for me, well, he’s right across from you.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“And you’re so much better?” Norman asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Have you not been pushing him to rejoin your little hero group? From what I’ve gathered, Spider-Man has never seemed to be interested in joining the Avengers. In fact, I’d say he went out of his way to avoid you.”

Tony’s jaw tightened.

“I guess my return worked more in your favor than you want to admit.” Norman smirked, moving back over to Peter.

“He should be waking up soon, then the real fun will begin.”

“What are you planning?”

“Well, I can’t let him out to wander the streets, now can I? No. So, he’ll have to be kept inside. Luckily, I’ve got some….. volunteers testing out some new features I plan to use in Peter’s room.”

“You’re going to keep him locked up like some prisoner? Yeah, I’m sure that will work out for you.”

“Well, it will only be temporary.” Norman shrugged. “Once he learns his place, he’ll be able to leave his room.”

Tony growled, pulling against his restraints.

“How cute, Stark. Do you really think you’ll be able to break those without your fancy suit?”

“You’re going to regret this Osborn!”

Norman just smirked, looking over at Peter as he started to stir.

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

Frank grunted in annoyance as he checked over his gun for, what felt like, the hundredth time.

He was growing restless, not to mention the increasing feeling something was wrong.

“Hell with this.” he said, standing up.

“This stealth shit ain’t working for me.”

Grabbing his bag, Frank left the rooftop and headed off where he had watched the members of the Defenders go.

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

“We gotta get out of here.” Jessica huffed, stalking around their prison cell.

“Well, until we figure out a way around that field, we arn’t going anywhere.” Danny sighed.

“It would be nice to have the nerd with us.” Luke mumbled.

��That little shit is definitely taking me out drinking once this is all over.” Jessica grit her teeth, kicking the wall to relieve frustration.

Danny watched as she stalked off toward the other side of the room, not bothering to look where her foot had made contact with the wall.

He looked however.

His eyes widened at the small dent and hairline crack in the wall.

Maybe they weren’t as trapped as they thought.

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

Peter groaned as he struggled to regain consciousness. His head hurt slightly, and his eyes felt heavy.

Making to move his hand to rub his eyes, Peter snapped to awareness as he felt the restraints work against him.

“Wha-Tony?” Peter croaked out, throat dry.

“Peter!”

“Isn’t that cute.” Norman sneered. “Tony Stark all concerned for Peter Parker’s well being.”

“I’m not the one that drugged him and strapped him down!”

Peter took the two men arguing as a chance to fully assess his whereabouts and his situation.

He and Tony were both restrained and at the mercy of a psycho.

‘ Great. ’

Peter internally huffed.

He needed to figure out a way out of the restraints, but he could still feel the drugs in his system. He wouldn’t be anywhere near as good in a fight right now as he would be normally.

Still, he had to chance it.

He couldn’t let Tony stay here.

Norman wasn’t after Tony, despite their long time rivalry. That made Tony expendable. Expendable people usually didn’t last in these situations and despite their history, Peter couldn’t let anything happen to the man.

Spider-Man didn’t abandon anyone.

Twisting his wrists, Peter tested the strength of the restraints and various angles and points. Infuriatingly though, they were solid at all points.

“Well now, Peter.” Norman smiled. “Let’s help you get a better look at things.”

Peter watched as Norman moved to the side of the table and pressed a button. The table gave a slight vibration as it tilted forward, putting him into an almost standing position.

“There we go. Now we can all properly see each other.”

Peter held back his glare, refusing to give anything away as to how he was handling things.

“I’m so glad to see you again, Peter.” Norman smiled, an unsettling scenarity in the action. “Our time together was so short last time.”

“You’re the one who left.” Peter replied.

“Well, I had a few things to take care of.” Norman shrugged. “But everything is how it should be now.”

Norman moved directly into Peter’s eyeline, his expression sent Peter’s Spider-Sense screaming.

Norman reached out a hand, grabbing Peter’s chin roughly.

“Now, Peter, how about we finish what we st-”

“Osborn!”

Peter froze.

He knew that voice.

He knew that voice so well.

The missing puzzle piece had finally fallen into place

Norman grinned before dropping his hand and pulling Peter’s mask back over his face.

“Can’t have just anyone knowing your little secret, now can we?” Norman chuckled before  turning to the new arrival.

“I apologize for the lack of a proper delivery but ,” Norman chuckled. “I don’t believe we’ll have to wait much longer. As you can see, we have something he’ll be very anxious to have returned.”

“We better not.” the man threatened, before turning to both Peter and Tony.

Tony looked between the two men. It was obvious they were talking about Peter, but what business did either of them have trying to lure in Deadpool?

That was who they were after, right?

“I must say, Tony Stark was not who I was expecting to see when I came here.” the man chuckled before focusing his full attention on Peter.

“Hello again, Spider-Man.”

Peter looked at the man before him, a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“How’s it going, Fisk?”

[squidpro-quo]

AN: Because I’m a sucker for The Witcher now, I guess? Just a short look into the little things, I got stuck on Jaskier’s ‘bread in my pants’ line and now Geralt has to deal with it too (also on ao3) 

Geralt knows that Jaskier had introduced himself as a ‘man with bread in his pants’ but after experiencing his characteristic chatter, he’d immediately assumed it was a metaphor for something else entirely, probably lewd or perhaps just plain inane. At the time he’d been making far more of an effort to not pay attention to any of the other patrons in the inn, including the bard, be it the booing from the other end or the whispers that swarmed at his sight, and so it comes as a surprise when he finds Jaskier was being completely forthright. 

Months later, after a feast he’d begrudgingly attended for reasons he’d rather forget, he’d been on his way out of the hall as the more drunken noble guests became rowdier than a saloon with free ale. Shoving his way free of the stragglers, he’d caught sight of an as-yet still buttoned and far too brightly colored set of clothes ducking down to table level, only to rise with an odd bulge added to the front as if its wearer had gained an extra roll of fat in the span of seconds. 

“Jaskier,” he growls once he’s closer, interrupting the bard’s attempts at stuffing another piece of loaf of bread down his sleeve that would undoubtedly have made them as thick as Geralt’s, if not more prone to crumbs. 

“Ah, Geralt! Off to recuperate after a strenuous evening of people smiling at you and badgering you with unwanted gratitude? I’m about sung out myself, always a bit more stored in there of course, for a last serenade or two for a bedfellow, but I’m—”

“What else are you storing?” Geralt pokes the offending section of Jaskier’s chest, his finger sinking into the fabric as what was underneath gave under the pressure. But instead of the sheepish hiding that he’d thought the accusation would bring out, Jaskier splutters and fumes like a barely boiling pot of water. Holding his head high as if it wasn’t Geralt who had jabbed him but rather one of the nobles accusing him of sleeping with their various innocent relatives, he backs into the table so suddenly his lute twangs. 

“Oi, that’s my breakfast in four days! Don’t need you squashing it before its time.” 

“It’s already squashed,” Geralt mutters, which only brought even more affront into Jaskier’s face. 

“I’ll have you know, this is the finest sweetbread you could find this side of Toussaint.” 

“And this side of your pants.” It was a habit he wouldn’t have thought to pin on the man who stuck out in a village like a peacock among partridges, but more likely he was just so attached to the finer foods in life that he’d stock up however he could. Besides, the cooks in the castle won’t miss the few loaves that fit up Jaskier’s trousers and he can’t fault the man for taking advantage of the situation, albeit in an unconventional way. 

But it continues. 

“You stepped on that one,” he notes, once Jaskier has plopped onto the bench beside him, their shoulders bumping together as he takes a swig from his tankard. The inn is as filthy as they came, the patrons even filthier, and yet Jaskier stuck to stuffing what had to be at least half a loaf of bread into his pockets. 

“And? This town might not appreciate the delicate nuance of my songs and tales, honestly that lady in the corner near took my eye out with her aim, but that doesn’t keep them from feeding us, one way or another. Roach would say not to look a fellow horse in the mouth.” He tears a bite off the one he still held in his hand and leans back with a sigh. 

“Even she wouldn’t eat some of this.” Geralt has to wonder if this was what Jaskier had grown used to from before they’d met. Despite his rancor at the earworm of a song that the bard had created, even he would have to be dull as a bogweed to not notice the decline in curses, glares, and general spitting that greets him in a new town and how much of that might be owed to the one currently filling his pockets with crumbs. And yet with fortune smiling on them more often, it hadn’t lessened this odd habit of frugality at all. 

“I don’t say anything about your morning talks with her, when you think I can’t hear you even though you discuss more with your horse than with me. Nor about how you have an apparent allergy to smiling.” 

This close, with Jaskier pushing into him as he fiddles with his lute in the small space, Geralt can see the collar of his doublet with fine gold stitching along the edge that must have cost at least ten full dinners if not more. The doublet that Jaskier had complained about being soiled during a back-alley fight with a few mercenaries a fortnight ago when a seam had been ripped is the same as the one he is now stowing stale bread in. The bard has enough coin saved up from the last town to afford a meal served on a plate instead of the floor and yet he never gives up the chance to play in an inn, no matter the crowd’s reaction. 

“Why?” Geralt finds himself asking; the question pushing against his mind until it slips out against his better judgement. He shouldn’t care, Jaskier’s habits, as long as they’re not getting him killed or annoying him personally, are just another facet of him that Geralt doesn’t understand, like the running commentary on their adventures or his insistence on helping with baths. Just another part of Jaskier that he’d forgotten to question somewhere along the way and now it’s merely another shade of color in his many and varied clothes.  That doesn’t stop him from being curious, however. 

“Why do you have an allergy to smiling? I don’t know, Geralt, you tell me.” Jaskier waves his bread to accentuate his point, flakes of it raining onto the table like dandruff. 

Instead of replying, Geralt finishes off his pint and returns a patron’s glare with a blank stare until the apparent butcher turns back to his dinner sans bread. 

The third time he brings it up, he doesn’t have to ask Jaskier the question. It’s almost half a year later, a time after they’d separated for their own purposes, and his only concern is collecting the coin he was promised after clawing his way through a burrow of rotfiends. The venom he’d ended up coated with drips onto the street with every step and it must have clogged his ears too, because that’s the only explanation for why he hears Jaskier’s voice from the dark gap between two shops. 

“I’ve got more! You can take it all.” 

His first instinct is to unsheathe his sword again, ignore the ache in his bones and wade into whatever puddle of trouble Jaskier had fallen into. But the words don’t sound like the bard’s being mugged, not fearful or worried, quiet though they are. 

Stopping by the entrance to the small alley, he wipes a hand over his splattered face and peers in to see Jaskier crouched by a gaggle of urchins pulling hunk after handful of bread from his sleeves and pockets to accompanying laughter. None of the children look older than ten, one of them trails a grubby dwarvish doll from a three-fingered hand while another sits in the mud to chew the scraps he’d gotten with teeth sharp enough to gnaw bone in half. 

“That might be all,” he admits after another minute or so, before sweeping the feathered hat he only wore during the gaudier festivals off his head to show its contents. “Ah, I’d almost forgotten about these! They had a fresh harvest last night, just on hand I guess, and I caught a few besides.” 

The hat is quickly emptied and the children scatter, one scooting by Geralt with her ears hidden under a torn kerchief pulled low, until the alley is empty save Jaskier standing up to dust his hat and pat down his much emptier jacket. Geralt meets his eyes as he turns to leave and the smile that crosses his face is fast, deceptively fast. 

“Geralt! That rotfiend must have been a wimpy one for you to finish so quickly! I wasn’t expecting you back until nightfall, would have made for a dramatic return, but no matter, I can tweak that in later. Besides, hard to recognize you anyway, looking like a pustule come walking like that.”

“There’s lettuce in your hair,” Geralt notes, pulling the stray greenery out with his offal-sticky fingers as Jaskier ducks his head to brush away any more telltale signs.

“Oh that, that’s nothing. I had a face full of tomato last night, some villagers had a bumper crop, I guess. Had those on hand when they were trying to take Roach from the stables, but she wasn’t having it so I tried to shoo them off and got a few vegetables from my trouble...” Catching sight of Geralt’s expression, Jaskier trails off with his arms still gesturing madly with hat in hand. “What?” 

“Your actions speak louder than your words, bard.” The odd feeling that’s warming him doesn’t bother Geralt at the moment and Jaskier’s grin is infectious enough to make his foot slip in the pool of slime that had collected on the cobbles. 

“Aren’t you the one who was asking about respect back then? My songs are for you.” Jaskier shrugs, patting Geralt’s shoulder. “But I do with my bread what I want. Including storing it in my pants.” 

“Hm.” He rakes his gaze down Jaskier’s clothes, the embroidery fuzzing up at his wrists and the slight pouch shape still retained by his shirt at the waist. “You could use some bigger clothes.” 

“Are you offering me your own then?” Jaskier dances into motion when Geralt strides off at the comment, ending up skipping backward up the street to keep up with his faster pace. “I couldn’t refuse such a generous gift, but I do imagine there’s bits of kikimora caked into every inch—”

“No.” His destination can’t come fast enough. Pushing the door to the inn open, Jaskier follows in his wake like a bee that won’t stop buzzing until its duty is done. He spares a look at the villagers waiting at the bar, deciding his current state will do nicely in securing the coin they’d promised and strides across the room to slam his sword down on the counter. 

“It’s all right here!” The first man’s fingers fumble with the pouch as he pulls it from his pocket. “Are they all dealt with?” 

“Depends on how my horse feels about revisiting the site to check for any stragglers.” 

“Yes, I see. Well,” he adds a few extra pieces of silver in with the rest, a nervous smile nailed onto the man’s face, “A fine mare she is, to carry such a man.” 

Looping the drawstring around the pommel of his sword, he makes for the stairs, ignoring the way Jaskier’s glare disappeared as soon as he’d turned around. Just as he makes a point to forget the handful of silver he slips into the pocket of Jaskier’s pants when he steals Geralt’s bath after he’s done.

[vidkid20ssimblrlair]

Episode 24: A Special Job

"Audrey?" I heard Matthew’s weak voice call out to me. He stared up at me from bed. "Everything ok?"

"Yeah."

I looked over my shoulder and flashed him a reassuring smile. I nodded and went back gathering more clothes. He watched me fold them and put them in a small pile. T-shirts, blouses, pants, jeans. An array of choices to choose from.

"Who's are those for?"

I paused and cut my eye at the door. I knew she was out there waiting for me. Listening. Maybe even watching through the crack.

"It's for Gemma. Our new housemate."

He narrowed his eyes. "The redhead?"

"Yes."

He reached out his hand to me and I came closer. He pulled me towards him and whispered, "Be careful."

I nodded and glanced back at the door. The more time I took, the more she had time alone to do who knows what but I knew she wasn't stupid. She had got what she wanted. A golden ticket to infiltrate this house. She would just watch and listen for now. I hurried towards the door and spotted my katana leaning up against the wall next to the door. It had been sitting there since I had last slept in this room. I grabbed it, revealed it's blade, and yanked the door open.

As I expected, she was standing there eavesdropping with her ear to the door. She jumped backward and screamed in surprise. She looked down at my katana as the blade of it was inches away from her torso. A look of shock and wonder on her pale freckled face.

"What is that?" she gasped.

"My katana," I said still brandishing my weapon. "Come on let's go."

"No. Wait. What's a katana?"

I lowered my sword and rolled my eyes. "A Japanese sword."

"Oh. Interesting. Who's that in there? Is that...?" she started, but I knew what she was about to ask and I didn't give her a chance. I poked her lightly with the sharp tip of my blade interrupting her. "Ow!"

"You can change your clothes in the bathroom. I'll show you."

I pushed her forward and dug the tip of my weapon into her back. She quickly followed my lead. I placed the clothes in her arms and ordered her to change. She entered into the bathroom begrudgingly. She started to pull the door close, but I stopped her.

"Keep the door cracked," I barked.

She frowned. "I would like some privacy."

"Well, sorry. That's not going to happen. I'm a woman just like you anyway, so no need to feel uncomfortable."

She groaned loudly looking even more annoyed but followed orders. She looked the clothes over. She picked through clothes much like a messy teenager and threw any clothes she didn't like to the side on the floor to my displeasure.

"Hey!" I cried staring at the cleaned garments. "Don't just throw them like that!"

"Oh, sorry," she said dryly. She then proceeded to throw any others she found undesirable at me. A muffled scream escaped my lips as a shirt and a pair of jeans hit me in the face. 

I could have sworn I heard her laugh, but she apologized again. "Sorry about that."

I pulled the clothes off my face just in time to see her put on a pair of pants under her dress. She also seemed to have picked out a shirt as she grasped it in one hand. She looked over at me as she studied the shirt again and glared at me. She then proceeded to pull the dress over her head. I looked away hoping to escape an eye full. When I looked back I was sure she was dressed, but she stood there shirtless covering her boobs. A menacing look on her face.

"What are you doing?" I asked half annoyed and half confused.

"I need to wash up," she hissed.

Then without warning, she slammed the door shut and I heard the lock click. The sound of rushing water followed. For a second I stared at the door in disbelief. She had caught me off guard completely, but I shook it off and began pounding on the door. I screamed her name over and over again. I even try to push it open with all my might, but it was no use.

"Gemma! Gemma! Open the door!!!"

I heard the door across the hall from me open and Nathan suddenly appeared at my side. He looked angry. "Is she in there?"

"Yes."

He pounded on the door and yelled, "Open this door! Open it now or I'm going kick it in!"

This seemed to do the trick and the door swung open immediately. She was fully dressed. Her bloody white dress replaced with a billowing salmon pink blouse and loose-fitting pants. Her frown replaced with a smile. She laughed. "Calm down."

"Calm down?!" I fumed. "I said crack the door! Not close it and lock it!"

"I just wanted a little privacy. I couldn't go around with clean clothes and blood all over my body could I?"

"You... you...!"

"You weren't supposed to close this door. I don't care if you have maggots all over you, you do what you're told. Rather if she's in charge or I'm in charge," he roared. He pointed his finger at her. "Either you follow the rules or get out!"

She was speechless. I was speechless. I don't think I've ever seen him that mad before. From what I gathered he was supposed to be the calmer twin. He looked over at me and soften his expression. "You ok?"

"Um...yes. Thank you," I said quietly.

He looked back at her and then from where he came from. Aaron's room. The doctor stood in the doorway watching the scene play out with concern.

"I'll be downstairs if you need me," he said looking at me and then at Aaron. He looked down shyly. "Just yell or something."

He hurried downstairs leaving me and the doctor alone with the redhead. While the awkwardness didn't dissipate, it was a convenient situation for me. The next stop on my prisoner's to-do list was a checkup with the doc. I grabbed her arm and pushed her towards him.

"Um... Madison wanted...," I started.

"I'm already aware, Ms. Anderson," he said sounding less than pleased. "Come in Ms. Ryan."

We both entered and Gemma was instructed to sit down on the couch. I stood by watching her. The anger and embarrassment of moments before still simmering within me. If I could just say "no" some days. "No, I will not watch Gemma." Ugh.

I watched Aaron examining the redhead. He seemed to be doing an honest examination much like he did with me. Checking her pulse, studying her eyes with a light, and the usual things doctors do. Despite everything, he seemed to take his job seriously.

"Say ah," he mumbled sticking a popsicle stick in her mouth. He inspected inside. When he was done, he threw it across the room towards the trashcan and missed by inches. He then felt her head. "Well, you seem healthy. No fever. If you were bit, it would be evident by now. You are a bit on the skinny side, but overall you seem quite healthy."

"Ah, what a relief," she gleamed.

"Yes," he said clearing his throat. "So you say you're pregnant? How sure of you of that?"

"Very sure. I'm definitely pregnant."

"How many weeks?"

"I don't know, but I know," she said winking. "Trust me."

Aaron furrowed his brow. "Well, I'm going to have to take your word for it. Would you mind being subject to a pregnancy test eventually?"

"Um...yeah," she said hesitantly.

He pointed to her stomach. "May I?"

She nodded her head yes and he felt her stomach. She cringed uncomfortably as he prodded and pressed on it. She then recoiled. "That's enough!"

"I'm sorry. My apologies, Ms. Ryan," he said quickly.

"Whatever," she scowled. "Are you done?"

"Are you experiencing fatigue or nausea?"

"What?! No."

"Are you experiencing breast tenderness?"

"No. What are you? Some type of pervert?" she spat reaching peak annoyance.

"No. I'm a doctor," he said bluntly. "I think we're done here. Audrey..."

"Yeah, yeah. I got her," I sighed. "Gemma. Downstairs."

Next on the agenda, the last on the list. Hand her off to Madison downstairs and be done with her for the evening. At least till they pawned her off on me again. Lucky how I happened to be the one other able female Gemma hadn't grown to detest yet. We headed downstairs and into the dining room where Madison stood waiting.

"How things go?" she said eyeing Gemma. "No problems?"

I shrugged. "Not really. Well, she did lock herself in the bathroom."

"What?!"

"I wanted some privacy," Gemma snarled. "That's all."

"You're don't get privacy here. You..."

"Madison!" Wade shouted entering the room with a tray of food. He smiled at Gemma. "Let's try to be polite to our new housemate."

"But..."

"Gemma is one of us now. Remember?" Wade said winking at Madison. "She's entitled to a little privacy. She's also entitled to a little lunch."

"Oh, is that for me?" Gemma squealed.

"Yes. Mr. Jones was saving this for a special occasion in the back of the fridge and he considers this a special occasion. Now have a seat and eat up."

Madison scoffed. "We have a food shortage and you’re wasting food on her? She’s also on probation as well, so she’s not entitled to anything yet. DJ explained that much. Remember?"

The two of them stared each other down before turning their attention back to Gemma. The woman had sat down in front of the large tray of food and was stuffing her face as if she hadn't eaten in days. Her jaws full. Her face a mess. Madison gawked at the sight of her and even Wade stared.

She stopped and looked up seemingly noticing she was the center of attention now. She swallowed the contents in her mouth and grinned. "Uh...sorry. I was starving."

She went back to filling her face and the three of us looked away in disgust.

I shook my head. "Well, what now?"

"Well, Wade will stay here with his little girlfriend and we adults are going upstairs."

"Ha. Ha. You're so funny. Not!" he said rolling his eyes. "I'll keep my eye on her. Just fill me in later."

So we took our leave and headed back upstairs. She approached Lin’s room and knocked on the door. Tao answered and she gestured for him to come here quietly. He did and he seemed surprised to see me waiting in the hall. He straightened his posture immediately and smiled from ear to ear just from the sight of me. Something he often did when he wasn't staring at me from afar creepily.

"You didn’t tell me Audrey was here too,” he said. He smoothed back his hair. "So um..whatsup? You need something?"

"I need you and Audrey for a special job."

"Special job?" I perplexed.

"Yeah. I need you two to spy on Gemma. Follow her around. See what you can find out."

"But why us?"

Well, why not?" Madison smirked. "You're the most stealthy in the house. Tao is good at pick-pocketing and stealing. You're quiet and smart. Seems like a good combination."

"Sounds like a good team to me coach," Tao beamed. He could hardly contain himself. He stepped closer to me and put his arm around me. "We’ll be a super spy team."

Madison chuckled. "Well, I guess something like that. All I ask is that you keep this to yourselves."

"But why?" I asked ignoring Tao and pushing his arm off of me.

"Because Vince and Lin would flip their lids if they got word. Just keep this under wraps for now."

"Sure thing boss," Tao exclaimed.

I nodded. "Yeah fine."

"Well, then that's it. Report to me if you see something or hear anything."

She saluted us and went downstairs. The two of us stood in silence. Tao nervously fidgeted in place.

"So.."

"Well, I..uh," he stuttered. "We should do this in shifts. I'll take the night shift. You take the day shift."

I shrugged. "If you want. Doesn't matter to me."

"Cool. So super spy team is a go am I right?" he said sticking out his hand.

I shook it reluctantly and sighed. "Just try to stay out of my...er...stay out of each other's way. Got it?"

"For sure! This is gonna be dope!"

Previous Episode

Sorry for taking so long. Writer’s block keeps trying to sabotage me. I’m also trying not to speed into the crazy that’s about to go down. I’m so excited to get to the action that I have to make myself reign things in. xD

[dontmindthefangirling]

The Heartbreak Prince {p.p.}

chapter 4

gif not mine - credit to owner (message me)

Bad Boy!Peter Parker x Reader AU

Summary: The heart is fragile. Easily broken, difficult to build back up, and Peter Parker knows that. Maybe his own heart is fractured and that’s why he goes around breaking others. Will you let him break yours?

Warnings: angst, angst, angst, enemies to lovers, suggestive conversations, language, underage drinking, violence, both reader and Peter are 18+

chapter 3 | series masterlist

-

You could hear the music coming from inside Flash’s house as you walked up the front steps with Betty and Ned. You were surprised the house wasn’t shaking with every beat of the bass. As soon as you stepped foot in the house, your senses were overcome with the smell of booze.

You could barely hear your own thoughts over the music, but you waded your way into the crowd. 

“I need a drink,” Betty said over the music, leading you towards the bar that Flash had set up near the DJ station.

“Look who it is!” Flash yelled over the microphone. “Midtown’s newest and baddest attendee...(Y/N)!”

You whipped around to look at Flash, with wide eyes as suddenly all of the attention was on you. 

“Let’s hear it for her, c’mon guys!” Flash edged on, earning cheers and applause. Your cheeks flushed, not used to this attention, but you just smiled sheepishly and grabbed one of the mixed drinks, taking a big swig. 

“Wow, who knew I’d be friends with a celebrity?” Ned teased, nudging your arm with his elbow. 

“Shut up,” you laughed, taking another sip. The fruity drink masked the effect of the vodka, but the effect was all the same. You felt it go right to your head, with a warm feeling tingling throughout your body with every sip. 

Flash went back to mixing music, bumping to the beat while you hung out with Ned and Betty. Eventually, you met up with some of your newer friends that Ned and Betty had introduced you to, and you found yourself getting lost in the music, letting the alcohol consume you. 

Halfway through the eighth song, you looked up and spotted Peter leaning against a wall with a red solo cup in his hand. He was by himself, but you were sure his goons weren’t far away. He was watching you, which immediately made you stop dancing, suddenly self-conscious. You thought you saw a small smirk tug at the corner of his lips, but it was probably just the alcohol. 

“I’ll be back,” you said to Ned who was twirling Betty around. 

You stalked over towards Peter, his eyes never leaving you as you got closer. He seemed amused when you approached him, a small glint of humor in his eyes. You really must have been drunk because you came over here with something in mind to say, but as soon as you were face to face, you couldn’t find your words. 

Peter chuckled. “Is there something on my face?”

“What’s your deal?” you suddenly blurted out. “Sometimes you’re nice, and sometimes you’re a jerk.”

“Why do you care so much?” Peter asked, without any malice in his tone, but genuine curiosity. 

In all honesty, you didn’t know why you cared so much. You didn’t know why your eyes were drawn to him in the hallways every time he walked by you, and you didn’t know why you wanted to pick his brain apart and find what made him tick. You didn’t know what it was, but it started since your first day at Midtown and you’d been hooked ever since. 

“I don’t know,” you admitted.

Peter stared at you, with...was that admiration? Maybe it was the alcohol, but for once he didn’t look like he wanted to punch someone. 

“Where are your friends?” you asked, clearing your throat as you took another sip of your drink. 

Peter shrugged. “Probably with some girls.”

“And you’re not?”

“I’m with you, aren’t I?”

His words made your mouth go dry and your cheeks burn. You looked down at your Converse and shifted your weight, forcing yourself to not look vulnerable in front of him. 

“Don’t be cheeky, Parker,” you spat. “You’d never have a chance with me.”

Peter smirked, humor in his eyes as he took a sip of his drink, never breaking his gaze from your own. You wanted to melt under his stare, but you stood your ground. 

“Well isn’t this cute?” a voice sneered from behind you. Peter’s eyes instantly narrowed as you turned around and saw Jed Davenport standing behind you. His eyes went back and forth between you and Peter before he chuckled. 

“Did she make you go soft, Parker?” Jed sneered. He took a step closer to you, and almost instinctively, Peter put his arm out and pushed you behind him. 

“You shouldn’t be here, Jed,” Peter said. 

“Why? I didn’t get suspended from parties. Just from school. Thanks to that bitch,” he spat, pointing at you. 

“Hey-” you went to fight, but Peter’s arm held you back and you glared up at him. 

“She broke my record for football. You know how many colleges were coming to see me play?” Jed continued.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have been a dick then,” Peter said calmly. You wondered how he was managing to stay so calm. You were fuming already.

“Fuck off, Parker,” Jed spat. “Just because your girlfriend died doesn’t give you an ‘I am holier than thou’ pass.”

“Don’t talk about her,” Peter growled, his sudden calm composure melting away. You stared at Peter’s back, slightly shocked. You knew that he and Ned had a mutual friend who passed away a year ago, but you didn’t know that she was Peter’s girlfriend. You couldn’t imagine how he was feeling.

Jed scoffed. “Whatever. She was a freak anyways.”

It was like everything was suddenly in slow motion as the music blurred in your eyes. The yelling was louder than any of the music as Peter lunged at Jed. It only took a millisecond for him to begin beating the crap of Jed, again, but this time you stepped in, not wanting the cops to get called and for Peter to get in actual legal trouble. 

You grabbed his arm as he went back for another swing, pulling him away with all of your strength. By now, Flash was running over with some of Peter’s other friends, pulling Jed away. You managed to stop Peter before he did as much damage as back in gym class, but Jed was definitely going to have a bruise in the morning. 

Peter was still shouting profanities at Jed as you dragged him away and pushed your way into the nearest empty room, shutting the door behind you. As soon as the door was shut, it was like the rest of the world’s noise shut off and all you could hear was Peter’s heavy breathing. 

You turned and saw him pacing, tugging at his hair as tears rolled down his cheeks, dripping onto the bedroom floor. His face was red and his muscles were tense, and your heart broke for him. 

“Peter,” you said, using his first name for once. You could still hear some of the commotion from outside as Flash was probably kicking Jed out of his house or calling the cops, but you tried to focus on calming down Peter.

“Peter, please, take a breath,” you encouraged, taking a cautious step towards him. He stopped pacing and looked up at you, letting his hands fall to his sides with an absolutely broken expression on his face. You inhaled sharply as you stepped closer, testing the waters to see how far he’d let you comfort him. 

“It’s okay,” you whispered. He stared at you, his eyes glassy. “You need to breathe.”

Peter closed his eyes, a few tears running down his cheeks, as he inhaled deeply. You took his wrists gingerly and led him over to the bed, coaxing him to sit down. As soon as he was seated, he leaned forward on his knees and burying his face in his hands. 

You gently rested your hand on his shoulder, feeling him breathe beneath your fingers. 

“It’s okay,” you continued to whisper, over and over, hoping that that would bring him some sort of comfort. After a few minutes passed, and Peter’s breathing became more even, he sat up, and stared at the wall blankly. His eyes were still red and glossed over with tears, but he wasn’t hyperventilating anymore. 

“It’s my fault she’s dead,” he said, his voice cracking and broken. 

“Don’t say that,” you whispered. “It can’t be your fault.”

“But it is,” Peter cried, looking at you. “I wasn’t good enough, fast enough, and when-”

He stopped talking because if he continued talking he’d have to reveal his secret to you. That his enemies kidnapped MJ and Ned, his girlfriend and his best friend, because they wanted to get to him. To Spiderman. And by the time he showed up...she was already gone. He remembered kneeling over her lifeless body, cradling her in his arms as his sobs could be heard all over the city. 

He had been so angry. So angry that he didn’t get there sooner. That he didn’t hide his identity better. Angry that Ned lived and MJ didn’t. As awful as that sounded and as awful as he hated himself for thinking it. He was just so so angry. So he turned on Ned, and everyone else around him because he blamed the world for taking MJ from him. 

But your voice was so calm and soothing. It was gentle, and soft, and your hands were soft too, and he would never say it but just the one touch on his shoulder was enough to even his breaths. And you looked at him like he wasn’t a monster who let his girlfriend die and put his anger on the rest of the world. You looked at him like he was just Peter. 

He looked at you, and saw your soft (E/C) eyes staring back at him. You didn’t press him for more information, but you continued to draw small circles on his shoulder, as an effort to keep him breathing. 

“I just miss her,” he croaked, looking down at his lap. 

“Of course you do,” you sighed. “I don’t blame you.”

Peter let out a sharp breath and ran a hand through his already messy hair. 

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly. 

You looked at him, cocking your head to the side in confusion. “For what?” 

“Just...y’know being an ass,” Peter shrugged. You looked down at your lap and nodded. You were starting to understand. 

“Why don’t we go home?” you said after a few moments of silence. “This party isn’t that great.”

Peter chuckled lightly and nodded. “Please.”

-

You and Peter walked side-by-side in silence back to your shared apartment building. The sky was clear, with a bright moon looking down on both of you as you briskly walked, trying to avoid the cold. A breeze caused goosebumps to appear on your arm, and a shiver to run through your body. Peter stared at you for a moment, before he quickly slipped his jacket off and placed it on your shoulders. 

“Oh you don’t need-”

“It’s fine. I’m wearing a long sleeve and you’re in a crop top,” Peter chuckled. You pursed your lips and gingerly slipped his jacket on. You weren’t expecting for him to smell like a mix of the ocean and vanilla, but those were the scents that rushed into your nose.

“Thanks,” you said softly. You continued your walk in silence until you reached your apartment building, both of your hurrying inside to escape the cold. As soon as you were inside, you handed the jacket back to Peter, despite his protests. He wouldn’t admit it, but he liked seeing you in his jacket. 

“What floor?” Peter asked when you entered the elevator. 

“Three.”

Peter pressed three and then five right after that. 

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” you asked as the elevator began to go up. Peter put his hands in his pockets and nodded. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “I’ll be okay. Thanks.”

-

It was only two minutes after you shut your door to your apartment when you heard a soft knock. You had only taken your shoes off when you padded over to the door, looking through the peephole and seeing Peter standing in the hallway, his hands in his pockets still. 

You opened your door, and Peter sighed. 

“I didn’t want to be alone,” he said. 

You smiled sadly and stepped to the side letting him in. “I figured.”

Peter walked in slowly, taking your apartment in. You were sure it wasn’t much different from his.

“My parents are out but we can watch a movie or something,” you offered, walking over to the kitchen to grab a bag of microwavable popcorn. 

“That sounds nice,” Peter said softly. You weren’t sure if you were meant to hear that, but you smiled at him as you put the bag in the microwave before walking towards the living room.

“Are you a Disney fan?” you asked, switching on the TV. 

“Yeah,” Peter almost whispered. You could tell he was still shaken up from earlier, and was probably still thinking about his dead girlfriend, so you tried to find something that would pull him from his dark thoughts. So you found one of your all time favorites, the Star Wars: Empire Strikes Back. 

“You like Star Wars?” Peter asked, almost surprised as he looked towards you from the other end of the couch. 

“Yeah, do you?”

“It’s my favorite movie series.”

You smiled. You weren’t exactly expecting that from him, he didn’t seem like the type to like Star Wars.

“Well then I picked a good one,” you chuckled. Peter smiled at you as the microwave finished popping the popcorn. 

You got up from the couch to go grab it while Peter continued watching. When you came back over, you paused behind the couch, staring at Peter and taking him in completely. His cheeks were flushed and blotchy from crying, and his hair was a mess, but his eyes were glued to the screen, and you spotted a few freckles painted across his nose that you wondered if had always been there.

“Popcorn’s ready,” you said, breaking yourself from your trance and plopping down on the couch. You put the bowl between the two of you, and grabbed a blanket before tossing it to Peter. 

“Oops,” you laughed when the blanket hit him in the face. 

“Ow!” he whined, but you only laughed. 

“Sorry,” you apologized with a grin as he peeked out from underneath the blanket. He narrowed his eyes at you, but you could see the humor behind them. 

You and Peter continued to watch the movie in silence, Peter just happy to have some company and to be distracted by the movie. He was grateful you didn’t turn him away like you easily could’ve. Especially after how horribly he treated everyone around him. 

About three-fourths through the movie, and two bowls of popcorn later, Peter glanced over, and saw you sleeping peacefully with your head on armrest of the couch. He found himself staring at your features, taking every single one of them in. He found a new distraction that wasn’t the movie and he liked it better. He smiled to himself, as a soft snore made its way from your lips. 

He, as quietly as he could, placed the blanket he had over you completely, and shut the TV. He stealthily made his way out of your apartment and towards the stairs where he’d go up two flights to his own apartment. He didn’t know what time it was, but there was this warm fuzzy feeling in his heart after being with you that night.

And it terrified him. 

-

chapter 5

taglist @justanothercynicalgenzkid // @ ilytomholland // @ star-holland // @ludiclove // @clipopex-writing // @imboredandneedwritingprompts // @futuremrspeterparkerholland // @someinsanefangirl // @tiny-friggin-human // @toms-irish-girl // @santa-feigh // @parkeret // @spidreling // @awokenfandoms // @wizliar //  @ spiderbiteholland  // @ baconlover001 // @ snowflakeamour // @geekofmanyforms // @spider-manholland // 

[harryandmolly]

Change of Pace - Prologue

cowritten by @achinglyshawn

summary: Shawn and Maya meet again 10 years after life got in the way of love

warnings: language

wc: 2.1k

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

“Don’t you want to?”

“Want to what?”

“Kiss me.”

He laughs, cheeks pink. “Well, yeah. I thought that was pretty obvious.”

“Just checking.” Her grin is cheshire.

“Been thinking about kissing you for a while, actually.”

“Maybe you should get on with it then.”

He always wakes up before the kiss. It’s bittersweet. He wants the fantasy, but he also knows no dream can compare to the reality of it.

He won’t tell his therapist about the dream, even though it’s the fifth time he’s had it this month. His therapist doesn’t know about her though, and Shawn doesn’t really feel like talking about her. He doesn’t want to wade through the sharp static of his memories to pick out the relevant information. It’s better left as is; he’s gotten good at compartmentalizing.

He blinks at the ceiling and waits for his alarm to go off. He always wakes up first, but never drags himself away from the warmth of his duvet until Taylor Swift tells him to.

‘If you can see I'm the one who understands you, been here all along so why can't you see, you belong with--’

One by one, the joints in his spine crackle as he sits up and smashes “Stop” on his phone with the pad of his thumb. Taylor quiets, and now all he can hear is the annoyingly chipper twitter of birds outside his window.

His shower is hot, too hot, scalding, but he likes it. He likes the shock to his system first thing in the morning. He likes the burn of reality, the zing of clarity that cuts through any dream-like remnants still hazy in his mind.

Geoff bangs on his door as he’s pulling boxers on, his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth.

“Wha’?” he calls, grabbing the brush and working on his molars as he opens the door.

“Starbucks trip, dude,” Geoff says, swinging his car keys around his index finger.

Shawn hums, jerks his head towards the bathroom then goes to spit, gargling a mouthful of cool water before emerging once more.

“You think they’d make my latte Irish?” he deadpans as he pulls on some clothes, tight black skinny jeans and a white shirt that says ‘HEAVEN’ across the chest. He thinks it’s funny. He’s definitely not going to heaven, if it’s real.

“Dream again?” Geoff asks as he rests against the doorframe.

“Starting to feel more like a nightmare. Or like. A warning.”

He hears himself. He knows it sounds stupid. But you don’t have a dream like that over and over without developing a sense of impending doom.

Geoff snorts, keeps him grounded with a roll of his eyes. “Yeah like, if you don’t get laid soon your dick might fall off, kind of warning.”

It’s not a sexy dream, but to anyone else Shawn guesses it might sound that way.

He doesn’t want to get into it.

“Stop worrying about my dick and take me to my coffee, driver,” he crows after shoving his wallet into his pocket, pushing Geoff towards the front door.

+++

His blistered fingers tap his phone as he contemplates getting another latte delivered. He doesn’t think coffee is really worth the Postmates delivery fee, but it’s also only 11am and he’s ready to crawl back in bed.

The Cordoba C12 in his lap begs him for a break; he’s been fiddling with it all morning and each time he thinks he’s finished the refurb, he sees another detail that’s just left of perfect.

His work takes time, but the time and care is what makes him the best. And that’s what his clients pay for. The absolute best.

If he’s gonna keep giving this Cordoba the star treatment, he needs more caffeine, but he also needs to get away from the fumes of his shop. He swipes out of the Postmates app and decides to get off his ass.

Sand crunches beneath his Chelsea boots on the sidewalk as he makes his way down the beach to the Starbucks. It’s quiet when he gets there, only a few people tapping away on their laptops as a Top 40s playlist tinkles through the speakers.

Cheri behind the counter knows him, knows a midday visit means he needs a triple shot caffe latte and starts making it before he can even reach the counter.

“I love you,” he rasps when she sets down the coffee in front of him. He hands her a ten and puts his wallet away, because he refuses to ever take change.

She laughs and plucks her tip from the register, slipping it into her back pocket. “No, baby, I love you. No one else tips $4 on a $6 cup of coffee.”

“Guess I’m just a sucker,” he says with a quick wink and a smile.

There’s a girl typing furiously on her laptop at the little table in the window he usually picks, so instead he goes for a walk.

Most people in town don’t wear Chelseas to the beach, but Shawn’s not one of those people who carries around flip flops to change into. Instead, he lets the heels of his boots sink into the gripping sand with each step he takes.

The waves are good today, and Shawn thinks about the board he rarely uses tucked under his bed. He’s not a bad surfer, he can catch a wave or two in the right conditions, but he’s a bit out of practice now because he doesn’t have anyone to surf with anymore. It’s not very fun alone.

He doesn’t think about it.

He sees a surfer in the distance, watches her skim a smaller lick before dropping into the water. After a moment, she resurfaces on her board and paddles her way to the shore.

He’s not quite close enough, but Shawn doesn’t think he recognizes the surfer. He doesn’t recognize her board, anyway, and he’s pretty familiar with the local surfers in the area.

She’s a wave chaser, he figures, someone who travels the coast in search of the best beaches and surfing communities. Avila Beach gets their fair share of them.

Shawn takes a sip of his disappearing coffee and squints at the surfer over the lid of his cup. She emerges from the water, board under arm, and heads for a towel and a beach bag further up the shore. He’ll have to walk around her, eventually.

He watches her dry her hair with a towel she pulls from her bag, and he wonders if she’s done with this part of the beach for the day. Where will she try next? He figures she’ll hate LA if she hasn’t already been. Too crowded, too touristy.

He’s only half paying attention to her as he gets closer, can see her knelt down and fumbling through her bag but not really processing it, too busy thinking of how dirty tourists leave beaches. Avila Beach gets plenty tourists, but it’s nothing compared to the shit you see in LA or San Diego.

Eventually the surfer stands, emphasizing the movement with a flick of her hair that catches his attention, like she’s trying to fling away excess sand. It’s when her hair settles around her shoulders that he really sees her, and his heart stops.

So much for a quiet walk on the beach.

He has no thoughts, no feelings, only panic. Panic that stings the back of his eyes and burns his throat and carries him from the beach to the sidewalk as quickly as possible.

Please don’t see me, please don’t see me, is all he can think as he makes a beeline for his shop, his anxious heart rattling against his ribcage. He makes it to the storefront incident free, but even then his body won’t let him relax.

He almost calls his therapist, but he’d have way too much explaining to do.

He paces in his office and calls his mum instead, lies and says he almost got into an accident, so he’s kind of shaken up. She coos the way mothers do, says she’s glad that he’s okay and reminds him to be careful, and that’s that, really.

He feels better. His mum’s voice always helps.

He has no way to investigate if Maya Lu is really in Avila. There was no such thing as Instagram or Snapchat when they knew each other, and her Facebook hasn’t been active for years. (He hates that he knows that.)

The only thing he can do is tell himself it’s not her. It’s not her. It can’t be her. She’s in New York. Or Vancouver. Or Paris. Or whatever. Wherever she is, it’s not where he is.

Plenty of beautiful, tan, raven haired women like to surf. The woman he saw on the beach is just another one of them. And obviously, his mind filled in her face with Maya’s because of his dream.

That stupid fucking dream. Her face is already haunting him while he sleeps. It only makes sense his mind would start playing tricks on him when he’s awake as well.

So it wasn’t Maya and he doesn’t want it to have been Maya, really, he doesn’t, but he spends the rest of his day looking at the remains of her Myspace anyway.

There’s nothing new, and much of the old is missing, too. Pictures from college, from parties, from the one time they went to Mardi Gras is all gone. Purged when she applied to business internships, probably.

(Pictures of him purged when she left, like remembering him wasn’t even worth it.)

The Córdoba taunts him from his workbench with each click of his trackpad, but he’ll get to it in the morning. John Mayer has plenty other guitars to keep him occupied. Well. It’s not really John Mayer’s guitar, but Shawn likes to pretend.

He pretends a lot these days.

+++

Maya’s eyes close, stinging with sunblock runoff and saltwater that she barely notices. She sits up and breathes, just like her very expensive yoga instructor taught her. She curls her fingers through the water on either side of her surfboard like she’s stroking it — she’s showing it she missed it. It’s an apology, an act of contrition, a show of affection. She’s been missing a lot of things lately. That’s why she’s here. Moving to Avila was a sexy secret daydream of hers since right around her 26th birthday, which coincided with her promotion from assistant portfolio manager to portfolio manager. 80 hour weeks were paying off and bringing her... more 80 hour weeks. So when the nights were long and all she had to show for herself was an enormous park-facing apartment that was totally devoid of personality, she would dream of Avila. She dreamt of a cottage on the beach where the view was the real draw. It would have space for a little makeshift art studio — some easels, maybe a pottery wheel. She’d drive an orange Wrangler with a rack for her surfboard that she’d wax herself and ride every morning. Maybe along with all of that would come someone to share it with. That part of the dream was always fuzzier — the man her imagination gave her was an amalgamation of the few men she’s dated over the years (some more clearly represented than others, to Maya’s annoyance). It’s not that she didn’t want to think about Shawn. She wanted to consider Shawn every once in a while when he popped into her mind and think, oh yes, that was a nice time in my life. She wants to maturely gloss over him like the plastic coverings on the photo albums her mom keeps of her past. What Maya doesn’t want is for it to still fucking hurt. She doesn’t want to think of him as the one that got away. She doesn’t want to believe her best chance at partnership and love and passion has passed her by with a margin of 10 years. That’s an ugly thought and there are no ugly thoughts allowed in the sea. It’s one of Maya’s rules. Baggage is for land, not sea. Maya has not been on this surfboard since she spontaneously ran out of the office during a long lunch break and got on a flight during the worst week of her professional life. It was the first time she came back to Avila after that summer with Shawn. It was when the dream started. Maya’s well-trained fingers sense the change in current tempo. She flattens herself on her board and paddles out, feeling her arms burn in protest from disuse. It feels so fucking good. She hunts the wave down, chasing it like she chased the Avila dream. She made it, she’s here. So it’s time to ride the wave.

---------

Taglist: @the-claire-bitch-project @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn @mendesoft @singanddreamanyway @alone-in-madness @abigfatmess @shawnitsmutual @awkwardfangirl2014 @september-lace @grittyisaho @sinplisticshawn @rollingxstone @yslsaint @randi-eve @fallmoreinlove @heyits-claire @itrocksmysocks @parkerspicedlatte @desire-to-live

[always5hineee]

Hell and Back- Chapter 6: Good Samaritan (Trials 8-9)

Chapter warnings: Mild language

Word count: 1868

-----

       "Let me go next!" Kris demanded excitedly. Looking down, both Y/N and Suho seemed concern. The latter was the first to ask what was going on.

       "Why are you so eager?" He asked suspiciously. "Shouldn't you be worried about what the trial is? They're getting worse, after all. Not only that, but we don't even know who the limited power is yet."

       "Because! Vandalism and shoplifting? You guys are stealing all the fun ones! We have an excuse to be crazy, I'm sure as hell taking it. Y/N! Who's the limited power?" Glancing down, she searched for it.

       "I, uh... Xiumin." Frost powers.

       "See? No reason not to let me!" Sighing, Suho held his hand out in defeat.

       "If you guys are okay with it, I don't see why not." He conceded. Looking through the list, she selected and pressed Kris' name, waiting for the challenge to load up. After a moment of silence, everyone broke out into laughter. Kris, confused, tried to look over everyone's shoulders to see the trial.

       "What's so funny?" Getting frustrated, he pulled out his own phone, opening the app and clicking in to read the trial's description.

       Trial 8: Charity

       Find someone in need and make their life better out of your own generosity.

       Limited power: Xiumin

       Drop-out Fee: $200

       "You're kidding." He muttered, eyes wide in some form of annoyance or disbelief.

       "Hey, you're the one that wanted to go next." Lay snickered, causing him to turn around threateningly. He, of course, wasn't as scary as he thought he was, not to mention that nothing could get the group to stop making fun of him.

       "Man, it's not that hard, just give some homeless man a fiver or something." Sehun consoled him.

       "This is so dumb. Why am I the only one that didn't get a cool challenge?"

       "Property damage isn't cool-" Chen tried to tell him. "If anything, you're not in any danger, you should be grateful."

       "ʸᵒᵘ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵇᵉ ᵍʳᵃᵗᵉᶠᵘˡ" He mimicked, still annoyed as Chanyeol pointed out the windshield.

       "Just get off at the next exit, there are always homeless people lurking around. I wouldn't be surprised if there were a few on the corner." Unfortunately, there were none directly on the corner, but about fifteen seconds down the road, there was a clearly disheveled man traversing down the sidewalk. Pulling up rather aggressively, Kris through a few dollars out of his still-rolling window, saying rather loudly,

       "Here." Before continuing onward with his foot pressed on the gas. "There, I did it. What's the next challenge?" Looking down, Y/N noted a new message.

       "Uh, you didn't complete the challenge."

       "What do you mean?" He demanded, practically fuming at this point. "I literally did what the dumbass thing wanted. What the fuck else can I do?!" Suho put up a hand to warn against his language, but no one paid any mind.

       "It put up an extra line of dialogue that says, That wasn't very nice." She read to him as he was driving. Foot still pressed onto the gas pedal and hands tightened in anger around the steering wheel, everyone started looking for parts of the car to hold onto in fear.

       "Calm down, man! It's just one-" Luhan tried to start, but Kris cut him off.

       "Shut the fuck up." Driving until he saw another group of homeless or at the very least destitute, he rolled to a complete stop, grinning with one of the scariest smiles Y/N had ever seen. As they looked upon him with both wariness and curiosity, he held out another small amount of money. Walking up to grab it, they thanked him as he grit his teeth.

       "Have a good day." As he pulled away with forceful slowness, rolling up his window, he looked back over with flames in his gaze. "Was that fucking better?" Looking down again, Y/N sighed with relief.

       "Yeah. Trial completed."        

       "Who's the next power limit?" Baekhyun asked, leaning over as his elbow slipped onto Y/N's shoulder. She didn't know why they were all relying on her to look, they all had the app. Breathing out, she searched.        

       "It's Chen, so no lightning powers again. Who wants to go?"

       "Are you sure you don't want to take your second turn, Kris?" Kai laughed, poking him in the shoulder.

       "If you think it's so funny, do it yourself." The man grumbled.

       "Maybe I will." Kai retorted, reaching over to Y/N's phone and tapping his own name before she could stop him.

       "Kai-!" She reprimanded as they watched the new trial appear.

       "Oh, calm down, it'll be fine," He started, looking at his own phone. "Trial 9: Item of value. Dig through a dumpster for an item of at least a $20 dollar value. If nothing can be found, move to another and attempt until the trial is complete. Limited power, Chen, drop-out fee, $250."

       "That's not so bad." Sehun noted.

       "No, but it's disgusting." He returned, nose already scrunching up at the thought. "I don't want to dig through a dumpster."

       "Do you think it would count if we just went to a landfill?" Y/N suggested. "At least then there'd be a couch or something, that would have to be a $20 dollar item."

       "It's worth a shot." Suho agreed. "It's better than getting all caught up in rotten food or old diapers."

       "Now why would you say that?" Kai shook his head. Kris typed in the nearest landfill to his GPS, which was still a whopping twenty minutes away. As they drove, they were beginning to realize just how tired they were. It seemed they were all in agreement to take a break for the night after this trial. When they arrived at the landfill, it was closed, but the gate had no lock. Who would want to steal trash, after all? Luhan, still in the car, slid it open, allowing the car to pass through, pulling up.

       Kai exited the car, wading through the piles of trash for a few feet, disgust evident on his features. As Y/N had suggested, there was plenty of furniture lying around. He began placing his hand on each piece, looking back up to the car. As soon as his fingers grazed a metal bed frame, the trial bar lit up in acceptance. Giving him a thumbs up, he started walking back to the car.

       "Oh, so he gets off on a technicality, but I don't?" Kris complained.

       "They just hate you." Sehun agreed.

       "I wonder why-" Lay commented, causing the duo to bust out in laughter as Kris glared. Kai re-entered the car, sitting down and breathing out.

       "So, we go back to the studio and go back home?" Suho suggested, earning nods from everyone. When they arrived, they all said their brief goodbyes, agreeing to meet at nine the next morning. Many wanted to meet earlier, but both Xiumin and Sehun were strongly against it. They made it clear that nine was a gift for everyone else. Beginning to walk away, though, Y/N saw her screen light up red. Everyone else's seemed to be doing the same. Reading the white text sprawled out on the garish screen. STAY TOGETHER

       "You've got to be kidding." Baekhyun muttered, already yawning in fatigue.

       "So what, we just sleep here?" Kyungsoo suggested, earning groans from everyone. It wasn't like they hadn't done it before, but everyone wanted a bed. Sleeping on the floor just didn't seem appealing after all the new things they'd been forced to process that day.

       "Hotel?" Chanyeol offered.

       "As if they'd let us have thirteen people in the same hotel room. It's also kind of expensive." Suho shot down the idea.

       "I guess we can just go to our dorm rooms." Kai grumbled. "Our's is the biggest anyway, some of the boys can just share beds." Unable to come up with a better idea, they all agreed, making their way to Kai's dormitory. thankfully, no one was around to witness the large parade of people piling into the same building. Kai, Sehun, Kyungsoo, and Chanyeol all lived in the dorms, so they agreed to share their beds.

       Kris volunteered to sleep on the floor out of a need for space, and Tao volunteered to do the same out of generosity.  Seuhun shared with Xiumin and Baekhyun, as they were both smaller and could manage to pack in. It would be awkward, but better than the floor. Kyungsoo agreed to share with Chen and Lay, Chanyeol shared with Suho and Luhan, which only left Kai and Y/N.

       "You can just take the bed. I can sleep on the floor." He muttered under his breath as everyone began to get ready. The only reason they had left Kai was because, although not the tallest, he was generally considered to take up the most space. She shook her head awkwardly,

       "No, you're fine, you can have it, I don't mind."

       "I'm not gonna make a girl sleep on the floor." He said incredulously. "I'm dumb sometimes, but not that dumb."

       "It's fine, we can just share, it's not a big deal." She said. "I want to go shower, though." She was silently hoping he'd be asleep before she returned- that all of them would be asleep so that she could go with her original plan and stay on the ground. She really didn't mind, she didn't want to make things weird.

       Her shower was considerably longer than was necessary, but she used the alone time to think. Things were getting worse, but not considerably so. The trials were honestly more tedious than they were threatening. Having her group of friends with her was heartening as well. She still had the issue of figuring out how to tell them that her wish had already been input, but... there was no reason to do that now. She could at least wait and see if the drop-out fee changed. Maybe it would go up and down based on how bad the trial was? While that hadn't proven to be the case thus far, she could at least hope.

       Putting a towel on her head and drying herself off, she put on her clothes, causing them to be slightly damp. While uncomfortable, she wasn't about to walk into a room full of her male friends undressed. As much as she liked them, they were basically all animals. Thankfully, when she had returned, the room was dark and littered with scattered breaths. As far as she could tell, everyone was asleep.

       Making her way to Kai's bed, she looked down at his frame, chest softly rising and falling. Her original intention had been to sleep on the floor, but... now her bones were aching and her head was pounding. It would be really nice to stay there. He had already said he didn't mind, plus, he was sleeping. What harm could it do? Conceding to her own pressures, she tried to silently slip under the blanked, facing so that they were both positioned in the same direction, her back to his side. She would rest now, then see what the morning held.

Go to Chapter 7

[msjr0119]

Love, Fate, Destiny

Part 1- Rewrite the stars

Riley Brooks is a waitress in a ‘Dive bar” in New York. One Saturday night, her past comes back to haunt her as some unfamiliar punters enter her bar on a bachelor party- one of them being someone who she was once close to.

*CHARACTERS BELONG TO PIXELBERRY*

Tags- @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @drakesensworld @butindeed @bbrandy2002 @ladyangel70 @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @pedudley @captain-kingliamsqueen @duchessemersynwalker @insideamirage @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @kozabaji @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @dangerouseggseagleartisan @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @choices97 @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415

******

Riley woke up the following morning, she had believed that she had dreamt the previous night- until she saw the note on the bedside cabinet. For the majority of the night- she had contemplated texting Drake, but didn’t want her heart to break again. Knowing that he was to return to Cordonia later today, she just felt it was best to ignore that the previous night had even existed. Getting ready for the day she decided to go to the subway and head for Central Park - walking always cleared her mind.

****

Drake woke up in the hotel room, immediately reaching for his phone- hoping that Riley would have contacted him. There were no notifications. The stab in the heart made him wake up to reality that she truly hated him- there would be no convincing her that they could change their destiny. Instead of moping about, he swiftly packed his duffel bag and headed to Liam’s room, hoping that the Prince would want to leave early. When Liam mentioned visiting New York for his bachelor party- Drake tried to convince him to have it elsewhere. Liam questioned why his friend wouldn’t want to go back? Frustration in his voice, Drake knew that Liam wouldn’t put his foot down. Who can say no to a Prince anyway?

“Hello, Drake. It’s early. I believe we aren’t leaving until later?” Liam said as stretching his tired limbs. This was supposed to be a relaxing break, and Drake had woken him up at the crack of dawn.

“I couldn’t sleep. I thought you’d be awake. I thought if the others were awake we could make an early leave?”

Liam raised his eyebrow, he had a feeling he knew why Drake was suggesting that they leave abruptly. He had told him the previous night to gain closure- maybe it didn’t go that well. Guilt began to go through his mind.

“What happened with her? I know this has something to do with Riley. Why are you wanting to run?”

“Because its what I do best Li, I tried to talk to her but she wouldn’t listen. I left the bar leaving her my number and a note. And she hasn’t responded.” - Drake had given up on all hope, he just wanted to leave asap. Forget that he ever laid eyes on her baby blues again.

“Give her time. It’s early.”

“I don’t need to Li. She hates me. This is why I didn’t want to come here in the first place. I know the city is big but I never believed we would see her.”

“She has your number Drake. The only thing you can do is wait. I’m sorry I can’t do anymore.”

Liam pat his friend on the shoulder. He knew this was Leo’s fault for uprooting Drake back to Cordonia. Leo did what he thought was best- but Liam had other people supporting him.

****

Drake went down to the hotel lobby for some breakfast. Liam had hoped it wasn’t a liquid breakfast with how his friend was feeling- he began to think and called Maxwell to his room. He required another person’s opinion on what he planning.

“Li what’s up? I’m hungover. I could have done with a bit longer in bed...” - Maxwell barely walked in the room, his hair was static and he held a black coffee in his hand.

“It’s Drake.”

“Ohhh did he and the hot waitress... you know?” His eyes suddenly widened, hoping that Drake had finally had some fun. He had been a miserable bastard the whole time they was in New York.

“No, he and Riley didn’t do anything. I need you to do something... don’t tell Drake that I’m interfering.”

*****

After the park, Riley decided to travel an hour and half to Wading River Beach. She hired a car not knowing where she was going to begin with. It led her there, to the place where they would all come for a day trip. Those summer days they frolicked on the beach during the day- the men sometimes took time out to fish whilst the girl’s sunbathed. The sunset was the most amazing view anyone could witness- the mixture of orange and pink colours rose above the clear blue warm sea water.

Riley took her sliders off, her feet sunk in the soft sand. A distant memory lead her to the rocks that overlooked the beautiful ocean. Sitting there minding her own business - listening to the waves crashing against the pebbles and pure white sand effortlessly. The slight breeze, moving her brown locks along with its direction. After seeing Drake last night, her memory lead her here- it was the first time they had kissed.

There was an awkward atmosphere, Lola had split up with Drake and was now dating Daniel- Riley’s colleague. They arrived at Wading River Beach- the usual place they attended on a gorgeous summer’s day. Lola’s younger sister, Beth and some other friends joined in the day trip. Drake didn’t really want to see his ex girlfriend frolicking around with her new crush- she invited him to try and keep civil. The first question he asked before confirming was if Riley was going. The minute he knew she was, he decided to go. Before Lola had cheated on him, he always had feelings for her best friend. He knew it was wrong but he could never get Riley Brooks out of his mind.

All the friends decided to go for a swim, the minute Riley stripped down to her bikini, Drake’s eyes widened. He finally witnessed her beautiful body. Every inch of her was perfect, her curves, her cleavage- she was better than he had ever imagined. He didn’t realise he was gawping until Lola tapped him on the shoulder.

“How long have you liked her?”- she questioned.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t play stupid Drake. I know you like her. She likes you too- she told me when we’d split up. I told her to tell you her true feelings but she’s too stubborn.”

“Lola! Please don’t try and give me relationship advise after what you did in ours. I had thoughts about Riley, which I felt guilty about until I found out that you physically went and fucked Daniel in our bed!” - Drake snapped back at his ex girlfriend. She had no right to interfere in his life anymore.

“Drake... I’m so sorry, I can’t help how I feel. And I’m telling you as a friend. Go and talk to her.”

Drake watched Riley emerge from the water with Beth. Her damp hair swaying across her body, the water trickling down her made Drake go slightly hard. Deciding that now was a good opportunity, he walked over to the two women who were paddling.

“Brooks, Beth.”

“Hey, Walker. What you doing?” - Riley asked, shocked that he would sneak up behind them- she was unsure if to cover up or not, as she was practically nearly naked.

“Well I’m going to take my top off and go for a swim. Are you both going to join?”

Beth noticed in the corner of her eye, her sister waving at her frantically- confused as to why her sister was acting that way- she decided to leave Drake and Riley to find out the reasoning behind her sisters erratic behaviour.

“Erm, you two go ahead, I’ll be back in a moment. Lola seems to be acting like she needs me. Be right back!”

Drake took his top off, flexing his muscles. Riley daren’t look in his direction- she was already blushing.

“Have you got sunscreen on Walker? Sun safety is no joke.”

“Nah, I’ll be fine. Do- do you need some?” Drake was hoping she would say no, hoping that Beth had already done it. He was already trying to cover up his slight erection. If he was to touch her, he didn’t know what would happen.

“I could do with some on my back. But I’m sure I’ll be fine until Beth comes back.”

“I can do it for you. I’m not totally useless Brooks. After we can have a race if you want?”

“Thanks. We’ll see. I’m an Olympic swimmer ya know.”

Drake laughed at her as she winked at him. He rubbed the sunscreen evenly on her back. He quickly finished as he could feel himself grow. Riley just wanted to turn around and hug him- his touch sent shivers down her spine. She now regretted agreeing to him doing this.

They both entered the natural warm glistening sea. Riley agreed to a race just to shut him up- she would win one way or another.

Drake set off before Riley, she was fuming that he had a head start. She was tired before she even begun but suddenly had an adrenaline rush- she couldn’t let his ego boost anymore. Grabbing his foot, she hoped it would slow him down.

“Hey! What was that?”

“Uh, seaweed?”

Riley smirked as she continued swimming, determined to not lose concentration- eventually she won the race. Realising how unfit she actually was as she was too breathless after a little swim- she realised she needed to join some type of gym to keep fit and healthy. Maybe Drake could help her train?

“I believe I am the winner, Walker.”

Drake grabbed her, pulling her closer him- their bodies collided. Holding her tightly he lent down to her ear whispering in a flirtatious way...

“That damn seaweed... Or would I be wrong in thinking that you pulled a cunning trick Miss Brooks?”

He brought his face back towards hers, resting his forehead on hers- both closing their eyes. After a while, he placed a stray piece of hair behind her ear before cupping her cheek, staring longingly into her baby blues.

“Ri, you are beautiful. You know that?”

“We should head back.” Riley gulped as a large lump formed in her throat- she wanted more but didn’t want to feel like a rebound or be rejected.

“Riley... we don’t have to head back yet...” - She looked into his pleading eyes before avoiding his gaze, shaking her head.

“I do Drake. Before I do something I regret.”

Drake held her close and pressed his lips onto hers. Her lips were soft with a taste of cherry balm mixed with sea salt. Pulling back, he had hoped that he wasn’t too presumptuous. Biting her lip not knowing what had just happened, she saw longing in his eyes. What’s the worse that could happen she thought? Wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders and neck- she reinstated the kiss. As the kiss became deeper and more passionate, Drake picked her up holding her tightly next to his abs- her legs wrapped around his muscly body. When they parted they were both breathless- the oxygen was knocked out of their lungs.

“Wow.”

“Wow?”

“You’re a good kisser Brooks. I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

“You- you have?”

“Yes, it was better than all my fantasies. I like you a lot, Ri....I suppose I always have done.”

“I suppose, I like you too.”

“Would you... would you like to... ya know... go on a date with me? Be my girl?”

*****

Riley could still feel that first kiss linger on her lips even after all these years. She had been sat in the same place for about an hour, and her bottom had become numb. Gathering all her things together, she took in the view one last time. Wishing she could stay for the sunset, but not really wanting to pay an overnight charge for the hire car. Hearing footsteps coming towards her, she believed it would be kids wanting to sit on the rock to search for creatures.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

“Drake? What are you doing here?”

“Probably the same reason you are. The first time we kissed. The time that ‘seaweed’ attacked me. The memories.”

“Heh, yes. Seaweed. Erm I’m just leaving, I have to return the hire car. Have a safe flight back to Cordonia. I’ll text you sometime.”

“I’d like that. I can come and visit you every so often.”

“Sure thing. Walker. See ya.”

Drake ran after Riley, he couldn’t leave it like that. He meant what he said, he would come back to New York - especially with Liam’s social season due to begin soon. No one would notice his absence- he was a nobody. He wasn’t important. Turning her around to face him, he crashed his lips on to hers- scared that she would reject him. Instead she jumped into his embrace, wrapping her legs around him as he deepened the kiss. Parting the kiss left them both breathless as it did all those years ago.

“I mean it Ri. I will come back every weekend to see you....What if we rewrite the stars? Say you were made to be mine. Nothing could keep us apart you’d be the one I was meant to find.... I’ve missed you. And I’ve never stopped loving you.”

[sserpente]

A/N: Premiere night! You’re all familiar with Arthur Curry aka Aquaman? Yep, as promised, I’ve officially added him to my list. Enjoy reading, my lovelies!

Words: 1548 Warnings: none

Alone. Alone would be what described you best. You were alone. There was no family left for you to turn to when you were sad, no friends to hang out with when you were feeling lonely… not even a dog that would cuddle with you to dry your tears.

You had always been alone, travelled from foster home to foster home and got bullied for having no parents. No time to make friends, no time to build yourself a life every teenager wished to have. By the time you finally were of age, you had accepted your destiny, your own personal misery.

All you had left now were the waves. Of course it sounded crazy. But the sea—vast, deep, mysterious and downright beautiful—had perhaps been the only thing you had ever considered a real friend. When you rid the waves on your surfboard, you forgot the world around you. You forgot your problems, your loneliness and your sorrows. You felt at ease.

When you had found that tiny island right around the corner of the bay you resided in, you had for once beamed with happiness. Breath-taking waves for you to surf on—all to yourself. You considered it your birthday present. It was the little things that made you happy, after all.

But all that was before a tall, muscly and long-haired man suddenly emerged from the water and turned your whole life upside down.

One thing you loved about your little island was the quiet. It was all yours—there was no one else. Ironic, really, considering you had been dealing with loneliness all your life.

Wading through the water, you wrung out your wet hair and marched towards your beach towel after digging your surfboard into the sand to dry. Then, you sank down on the ground and stretched, enjoying the warm sunbeams on your wet skin. The loud splashing sound you did ignore—probably just another wave breaking against the sharp rocks next to you.

But that was when something—or rather, someone suddenly stepped right in front of you, shielding you from the sun. It got dark. Squinting, you made out a tall, long-haired man with countless tattoos on his body… his muscles proved he was not to be meddled with.

You frowned. Granted, he was hot. But you were in no mood for another stupid pick-up line.

“Can I help you?” You began disinterested.

“You’re scaring the fish.”

Blinking, you sat up. “Excuse me?”

“Your surfing is scaring the fish.”

“Right. I don’t know what drugs you’re dealing with and are obviously high on but I’m not interested.”

The stranger chuckled, almost as if he had expected resistance. He let out a sigh and knelt down to look you in the eye. His expression darkened a little—the inevitable danger radiating off of him fascinated you… and so did the blue of his eyes.

“Listen, doll. You surfers have already scared them away from the bay. Why don’t you just surf there?”

“Oh yeah, have they told you that?” You rolled your eyes. Who the hell did that guy think he was?!

The stranger shrugged. “They have, actually. Now I’m gonna ask you nicely because you’re a lady—get off this island. Please.”

“Are you the owner?”

“Huh?”

“The owner. Of this island. Does it belong to you?”

“No.”

“Then mind your own fucking business.” You spat, lying back down again. Stubbornly, you closed your eyes, attempting to blend him out. Perhaps you had no friends because of your rather brusque attitude. But this island was your only source of happiness. You were not going to let a handsome stranger take that away from you. Especially not on your birthday and not because you were apparently scaring fish.

“Okay. So we’re doing this the hard way where I grab that pretty surfboard of yours and break it in two?”

You were fuming. And the absurd thing was that you actually believed he would be able to make truth to his words. You couldn’t quite tell whether he was trying to tease you on purpose or if he simply was an arsehole. Maybe he was both.

Grunting, you sat up again.

“Listen up, fish guy. You can’t just show up and tell random people to get off islands if you don’t own them. It’s not like I’m pouring oil into the ocean or fishing with live-baits to grill some fish over a bonfire. I’m just surfing. And I’m not gonna let you stop me from the last thing that is keeping me…” Sane, you concluded mutely. Your life story was none of his business either, obviously.

The stranger pouted. “It’s Aquaman, actually.”

“I don’t care.”

“Hmm. You’re charming.” He commented sarcastically and got up, brushing the sand off his hands. “I’ll let you off with a warning. But if you’re back here tomorrow, say goodbye to your damn surfboard.”

And then, just like that, after giving said surfboard a gentle pat, he jumped straight into the water. He had gone within seconds.

For the rest of the day, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get him out of your head. Part of you was tempted to go back to the island tomorrow and see if he would actually go through with his stupid threat… the other wanted to scream at you for even considering such a thing. There was something… off about this guy… which was perhaps why you just couldn’t forget him.

One of your annual birthday traditions was it to buy a cake. There weren’t many occasions you got to treat yourself after all. Besides, you didn’t have the money to do so anyway. The local bakery was small and always smelled of sweet icing—you loved spending time in there and occasionally, buying a cupcake… usually, when you were on your period and craved sugar.

Clearing your throat, you walked up to the clerk behind the counter.

“Hey, um… I’m here to pick up my birthday cake?” You began quietly. Oh, it was so pathetic, wasn’t it? Buying your own cake because there was no one there to celebrate with you… every single year.

“Oh yes, your order from this morning. Your name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Happy birthday, my love. Let me go and fetch it for you.”

“Thanks.” Nodding, you made use of the time and pulled out a couple of bills. Cakes were expensive these days. Lucky for you, birthdays only happened once a year. While you waited, lost in thought, you let your gaze roam through the shop. They had re-decorated. It looked rather pretty.

But you tensed, eyes widening when you suddenly spotted the man sitting at a table in the corner, quietly sipping coffee.

It was fish guy. And he was looking right at you.

Just your luck.

“Thank you!” Relieved, you took the cake the clerk handed you a moment later and in return put the money on the counter.

“Keep the change!” With that, you turned on your heel, attempting to bold the shop. Reckless part of you surging within you or not, the urge to flee was bigger.

“Hey, wait up!” Especially when you heard his deep voice behind you. Oh, great.

Sighing, you stopped.

“What do you want?”

“I see you’ve left the island. Thank you.” Raising your eyebrows, you stared him down.

“I haven’t said anything about not coming back tomorrow.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he replied darkly. There was something about his voice. Something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. But it was seriously hot.

You narrowed your eyes at him. You didn’t like the effect this strange man had on your body. Traitor. “Are you done threatening me?”

“I’m not threatening you. But…” He pouted. “There will be consequences if you don’t do what I asked you to.”

“That is the definition of threatening, you moron. Now get out of my way.”

But Aquaman wouldn’t budge an inch. Crossing his arms before his chest, he grinned cheekily as he stepped aside to block the exit.

“So you’re, uh, collecting your own birthday cake?”

“Yes. You got a problem with that?”

He shrugged.

“It’s just a little sad. Don’t you have anyone to celebrate with?”

“What business is that of yours?”

“I see, you don’t.” When you moved, he took another step. And you were slowly starting to freak out. “Join me for a drink at the beach bar down the road. Can’t let a beautiful young woman spend her birthday all alone.”

You blinked. Had he just… asked you out? “What makes you think I would wanna spend time with you? You threatened to break my surfboard!”

Aquaman grinned—smugly this time—and finally stepped aside, holding the door open for you.

“Come on, I’m not that terrible. You got nothing to lose, do you? And you’re not gonna eat the entire cake all alone, or are you? I’m Arthur, by the way.”

Defeated, you shook your head, sighing in the process. “And I am crazy for accepting. My name is (Y/N).”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, (Y/N). Oh, and happy birthday.”

You only rolled your eyes before following him to the beach bar. At the very least, your special day promised to be interesting, if anything.

A/N: Seriously thinking about writing a Part II.

Guys, if you liked this story, I would appreciate so much if you could support me on KoFi! YOU can help me publish my first novel! It’s easy, it’s anonymous, you can do it from all over the world and it’s just 3€! Your help counts too, I’d appreciate it so much if you helped me fulfil my dream! ♥ ko-fi.com/sserpente  

[tigerlilynoh]

Almost Got ‘em

Written for the 2019 @spnsummergen. Rating: G Featuring: Original characters, and a couple familiar faces Word Count: 3,143 Warnings: foul language Author's Notes: The prompt was “Early season - demons in hell plotting to take the Winchesters down.” I was immediately inspired by the Batman: The Animated Series episode “Almost Got ‘im.”   Summary: Deep in the depths of Hell, a group of demons discuss the two latest pains in their collective ass: Sam and Dean Winchester. Rumor is that the brothers had found the Colt and even killed a demon. Of course, rumors are just big talk— yet a pair of demons patiently listen; their plan is already in action.

Two figures made their way through the halls of the third lowest dungeon in Hell.  As they walked the jagged stone walls seemed to close in around them, but their petite, female forms prevented the blade-like rock from tearing at their temporary flesh.  Even if they were injured it would be of no importance; they were demons and there was a meeting that they very much wanted to attend.

Both were wearing lean, blonde women who might’ve been mistaken for sisters, but that was the limit of their outward similarity.  The slightly older of them wore a gauzy, white dress that, when combined with her delicate steps, gave her the air of a drifting spirit.  Her partner was another story.  The younger demon’s black combat boots thudded with every step, announcing her presence.  Her attire was entirely leather—the cow sort, not human—dyed dark enough to hide spilled blood.

Neither of them said a word as they approached the auxiliary dungeon rumored to be containing an unusual sort of rendezvous.  The pair didn’t have anything more to discuss for the moment.  They both knew their immediate goals, responsibilities, and when push came to shove, which of them was in charge.  They damn well better have known.  Between the two of them, they’d spent over a decade putting their respective pieces in order and double-checking their work.

When they reached the unmarked door that they’d heard whispers about, the demon in the white dress pushed it open without hesitation.  She stepped through the door with an unassuming demeanor.  Her colleague followed her, studying the contents of the chamber with a wary eye.

Inside there were eight lesser demons standing or sitting around a storage room.  Three racks had been laid out flat, then pushed together to create an improvised conference table.  Five of the occupants were perched on crates of acid, steel nails, and other implements of pain.  The remaining three leaned against the far wall, cautiously keeping some distance.

A brutish-looking man with pasty skin, a pronounced brow, and stringy black hair glared at the newcomers from the opposite side of the table.  He stared with the intensity of someone who had taken charge—he certainly didn’t hold any noteworthy rank as evidenced by his badly calloused hands that hinted at many decades or centuries of wielding a whip, the shoddy ones meant for working souls.  

In a low growl he asked the two women, “What do you want?”

“We heard that this is the place to be if you truly hate the Winchesters,” answered the elder one.

He stared at them for a moment before replying, “Get inside and shut the fucking door.”

The pair entered, closing the door behind them.  From the way that everyone turned their attention to a stout demon sitting on a box labeled ‘spiders’ they assumed that it was his turn to speak.  The two women settled themselves on a non-technically-iron maiden that was lying along one of the walls as if it were a bench.

The stout demon resumed addressing his audience.  “So then I tore the cow apart—six chunks, big ones but still enough to spread around, and some smaller hunks.  You don’t want to waste it by piling the whole cow in one corner of the room.  You might as well not bother cutting the damn thing up—Anyway, I hung pieces of it throughout the house.”  The sound of scuttling inside the box he was sitting on filled the room as he fumed for a moment in anger.  “It’s a classic omen!  It’s a horror!  And the older of the brothers makes a joke about hamburgers!”

“So disrespectful,” muttered a female demon with hollow eyes and frayed white hair.  Several demons nodded in agreement with her comment.

“That kind of work takes time,” complained the portly demon.  “I’m not a high-caste demon.  I can’t just wave my hand and make things move.  Do you have any idea how long it takes to cut up a cow?  And the first cleaver broke and I had to find a store—”

“Was it a vegetable cleaver?” asked the lean demon with a mangled left arm and long, frizzy brown hair sitting next to him.  When he looked up at her face in confusion, she rested her hand on his thigh, then said in a soft voice, “Milmont, sweetie, two kinds of cleavers.  Vegetable ones aren’t made for bone.”

“I don’t fucking believe this,” muttered a red-haired demon.  He was dressed like Billy Idol but his rosy cheeks undercut the attempt at an edgy look.  “Did you fight them or not?”

“I fought them!” Milmont replied indignantly.  “I had a knife—”

“Paring or bread?”

“—and I swung at the older one’s neck.”

One of the demons standing in the shadows noted aloud, “Swung means a miss.  You got your ass kicked.”

The stoat demon flustered a bit before reluctantly explaining, “He shot me in the chest with rock salt and hit me in the face with his gun—” 

“You fell on your ass,” guessed the red-headed demon.

“The younger brother can perform an exorcism really fast,” Milmont said while shifting, jostling the box of spiders.

“You shouldn’t have gone after them,” said the brutish leader of the group.  “You’re too weak.”

The stout demon glared as he hissed, “I have every right to go after the prey I choose.  I’m allowed to prove myself!”  He waved his hand at the rest of the room as he asked, “How many of you have been exorcised by them?  If you’re here bitching about the Winchesters on your weekly one-hour break, yeah, I’m guessing they made you look like an idiot too.”

Several of the demons nodded in acknowledgement of the point or murmured agreement.  The leader let out a small grumble as he reached into an open crate next to him.  He pulled out an unlabeled bottle containing reddish-tawny liquid, then yanked the black cork from it with his teeth.  After taking a swig, he handed it to Milmont.

“Corceo.”  The stout demon toasted him before having a sip.  

“You’re lucky that you were only exorcised,” the hollow-eyed woman told him while reaching out, wordlessly asking for a drink.  Milmont passed it to her and she took a sip before continuing.  “Rumor has it they possess the Colt.”

“Dajhila, they don’t have the Colt,” replied the demon with the bad arm.  “I brawled with them ten days ago and they didn’t shoot me.”

“Maybe you aren’t worth the bullets?” jabbed the rosy-cheeked punk.

With her good hand, she picked a knife up off the ground and stabbed it into the wooden table in front of her, inviting him to fight.

Corceo, the leader, hit the table, drawing everyone’s attention.  “Tisha, don’t carve Frey a new asshole.  He has plenty already,” he joked, earning a chuckle from one of the demons watching from the wall.  “The fact is that they had the gun.  They killed Tom.”

“Tom was an idiot,” huffed Frey.  “The only reason he wasn’t wading through viscera like the rest of us was because he was Azazel’s son.”

“Apparently he was attacking Sam, and Dean shot him,” Dajhila explained.  “There were witnesses.”

Frey shrugged indifferently at Tom’s death.  “Silver-spooned nepotist should’ve been the one to get his ass beat before he got shot.”

“I’m fine with the younger Winchester getting that bludgeoning,” interjected Tisha.  She snarled, “You know that little shit is a psychic?  I was so close to killing them.  It took me three weeks to lure them to this abandoned insane asylum.  I’d murdered twenty people in there—six hunters came before the brothers finally took the bait.  That’s the shit I had to deal with in order to roll out the red carpet for those thick-brained, underwear-model-looking—“

“They aren’t that good looking,” said Milmont.

“They are,” countered Corceo.  “Now let her finish or I’ll tear your fucking tongue out.”

Dajhila with the hollow eyes quietly said, “We should’ve kept the talking stick.”

Frey held up the pointy, splintered remains of a blood-stained wooden dowel that had evidently been used to stab someone.  The woman shrugged, conceding that it had worked better in theory than in practice.  The red-haired demon tossed it aside, grabbed the bottle of alcohol from where it had settled on the table, then gestured to their current storyteller.

Tisha waited a beat to see if anyone would interrupt her before continuing.  “I swear on my life, that Sam kid really is a psychic.  They knew it was a trap.  I’m sitting there with a semi-automatic rifle—I’m not fucking around—and all of a sudden the sprinklers are raining holy water.”  Her lips curled downward at the memory as she snarled, “Sam used a megaphone from the parking lot to exorcise me.  I only got to see their faces as my cloud was getting dragged back down.”

“Jesus,” exhaled Frey.  “A megaphone… and you had a rifle.”

“What weapon did you go after them with?” asked Tisha.

He thought for a moment before finally admitting, “A big rock.”  Everyone stared at him for a moment, then burst into laughter, so he added, “Sometimes simple is best.  We’re stronger than them and there was a big rock right there that I could throw—  It was a tactical decision.”

“With genius thinking like that, it’s no wonder we can’t catch a break against them,” said Corceo.

Dajhila commented, “The only good news is that the dad, John, he died two months ago.”

“John Winchester, hunter savante—  That piece of shit finally dropped?”  Milmont looked around, eyes wide with excitement.  “What did ‘im in?”

“I do not know.”  The hollow-eyed woman crossed her bony arms.  “Margot, down in processing, says his file is classified, but it is there.”

Frey leaned forward with interest.  “File—  We got him?  Fucker isn’t playing a harp?”

“In the pit as we speak,” she replied smuggly.  “Rumor is that Alastair’s working him personally.”

“Alastair?” asked Corceo.  “They’re breaking out the Grand Torturer himself for a Winchester?”

Tisha nodded slowly to herself as she put together a few pieces.  “Well, he is classified.”

The two women silently observing from their place on the iron maiden exchanged a knowing glance.  The one in leather subtly placed her hand on a bulge by her belt that was obscured by her jacket, but the woman in the white dress discreetly shook her head and gestured for her to wait.  At the order, the younger demon gave a quick roll of her eyes before relaxing her posture.  By the time they’d turned their attention back to the meeting, the conversation had switched back to discussing different methods of pursuing the still-living brothers.

“Dean is a hedonist,” commented Dajhila.  “Take a meatsuit with a figure as an hourglass and lay yourself in his path.”

Tisha raised an eyebrow.  “You really think he’s going to fall for something like that?”

“He’s young and proud.”

Tisha countered, “He’s a paranoid with low self-esteem—“

“Here we go,” muttered Milmont.

“—You all think they’re heroes out of a fucking Greek epic, but they’re just men—feeble, petty little things—“

“Little,” Frey scoffed.  “Have you even seen them?”

Tisha slammed her fist on the table.  “They are mortal children, too absorbed by their grief and self-pity—Yes, they are little, but that makes them paranoid, partially-psychic, sneaky cunts who use megaphones.”  She paused a moment to look around the table at the others, then said, “And maybe they don’t have it now or maybe I wasn’t worth the bullets, but they know about the Colt.  They know how to kill us—  Kill, not exorcise.”

After a brief, pensive silence, Milmont asked, “When was the last time you heard of one of us getting killed?  Cain going nuts and turning traitor?  That was almost 150 years ago—Earth time.”

Corceo nodded.  “Half the crew in my dungeon wasn’t even turned back then.  The sniveling pups thought we were immortal until they heard the news:  the fucking Winchesters killed Tom.”

There was a grumble of shared frustration at the indignity.  Humans had managed to kill demons, for the first time in over a century—and the bastards hadn’t even had the decency to stick around long enough to be killed in return.

“We have to stop them,” said Milmont quietly.  

Frey scoffed.  “Have you been listening or are ya’ as dense as iron?”

“Oh, choke on a ball of blades,” Tisha hissed.

The red-haired demon waved his arms, sarcastically miming fear.

“Save it.  The enemy is up there.”  Corceo waited to see if anyone would interrupt, then continued.  “I’m tired of all this theatrical, solo bullshit.  We murder them in their sleep.  If they salt the door, we use guns.  If they ward the building, burn it down.  Fucking drive an oil tanker truck into them—this is war.  So how do we find them?”

Milmont replied, “Since their dad died, my denmate, Bahshin, spotted them a few times with another hunter:  male, middle-aged, reddish-brown greying hair and beard, baseball cap, one of those grizzled sorts.”

Tisha nodded.  “I know the one.  His name is Bobby—don’t know the last name.  I’ve run into him and his partner a few times.  He sticks to the north central U.S.  Rural looking, lots of plaid.  He had an old truck.”

“Fucking hick hunters,” muttered Frey.

The woman in leather sitting along the wall wordlessly withdrew a small notebook and pen from her pocket, then wrote down, “Margot:  soul processing department grunt,” and “Bahshin:  den-dweller, has an Earth pass.”  

Corceo eyed the two silent newcomers from his place at the table.  “Taking notes?  Dainty little things like you gonna go gunning for the big bad Winchesters?”  He laughed.  “Well get in fucking line.  You come here, don’t say shit, and crib off our hard work—  How close have you come to offing them?  What makes you so cocky you’re gonna be the ones to kill the bastards?”

The woman with the notepad gestured to her partner, inviting her to address the challenge.  The demon in white stood up and smiled, unconcerned by the hostile attitude of the others in the room.

“We haven’t tried to kill them,” she replied.  “And we have a plan, the likes of which history has never seen.”

“Ready to shared with the class?” Frey asked.  “What brilliant plan are you two peons gonna try?”

“We’re gonna give them what they really want.”

Corceo’s eyes passed over the two women.  “A pair of eager-to-please blondes in suggestive clothes?”

The woman in the white dress corrected him.  “The only one we’re eager to please is our lord, Lucifer.”

A few of the demons chuckled at the absurd statement.  Lucifer was a fairytale, as much as God and angels were to the humans.  

“I’ll bite.”  Corceo’s mouth curled into an amused grin, punctuated by the occasional barbed fangs.  “What are you gonna give them?”

“We’re gonna make them heroes.”

The demons around the table laughed outright at the reply.

“You’re going to make them heroes?  Those hunter bastards know about the Colt.  They killed Tom.  They’ve been exorcising us.”  He placed his hands on the table and stood up, ready to confront them.  “The Winchesters aren’t scared of us—not the way they should be.  We’re demons.  That still means something.  So I don’t know what crazy scheme you’re thinking up, but it isn’t happening.  They don’t get to be heroes.  They die.”

“They’ll die when we—” She gestured to her partner “—say they die.”

“Looks like we have something of a race on our hands.”  Cerceo walked up to her and stood so that they were only a few inches apart.  A head taller than her, he glared down at her before hissing, “You think you can beat me to them?”

Her eyes turned white, causing his jaw to drop.  “Child you’re busy boasting and we’re on step fifteen.”  Lilith waved her right hand, locking the door to the room.  In a quick backhanding gesture, she threw Corceo against the far wall, then turned to look at her companion.  “Ruby.”

Ruby stood up and smiled as she drew her knife from the holster on her belt.  She systematically worked her way through the room, killing the others while her partner held them in place with telekinesis.  Afterward, she placed the bodies on the table, then rested her palms on the topmost corpse.  A few lines of Aramaic later, blue flame engulfed the bodies, destroying the evidence.

While watching the fire, Lilith asked, “Is Meg ready?”

“She’s still running recon on the other children.  In terms of pressure points so far:  four have lovers, eight of them are close to a parent, and we have a few like Sam where the sibling could be an incentive.  As of yesterday, she was watching the stoner with imprinting telepathy to figure out his achilles’ heel.”  Ruby wiped her bloody blade on the sleeve of her jacket to clean it while asking, “Did you take care of Crowley?”

“I encouraged several of his aides to let a few deals lapse.  Numbers are down.  He’s dying to get a big deal.”  Lilith looked at her.  “The second Dean Winchester’s soul comes across his desk, he’ll sign off on the contract just to get his name on something.  The grubby-fingered broker didn’t check the fine print on John; why should the son be any different?  I’ll hold Dean’s contract and the moment he bites it, he’ll get expedited delivery to Alastair’s dungeon.  No official processing.  No gossip—”  She gestured to the smoldering remains of the demon who had accidentally outed Margot as a leak in the processing department.  “—No mistakes this time.”

Ruby huffed an unamused laugh.  “The two of us sure as hell won’t have time to clean up any messes once this show gets rolling.  Round one we could afford to have things go a little sideways.  Once we pop up on Sam’s radar, that’s it.  We’re in, and I’m not coming back downstairs on a fucking milk run.”

“It will all turn out,” Lilith assured her.  “Our lord wills his return.  He cannot be denied.”

Ruby didn’t reply to the pious statement.  Instead she studied the charred racks in front of them.  “I know he’s your mentor and we couldn’t have done this without him, but Azazel can’t survive this.  You know that, right?”

Lilith nodded.  “When he finishes aligning his pawns, he’ll throw the fight.  He knows how important it is that Sam’s anger be directed solely at me.  That means clearing the field for the next generation of nemeses.”

“Don’t worry,” Ruby placed her hand on her partner’s shoulder.  “When I’m done with him, Sam will be foaming at the mouth to kill you.”

“I envy you,” Lilith sighed.  “You’ll live to see our lord.  It’s going to be beautiful.”

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

If you enjoyed this story, check out my Sam/Ruby Fic Masterlist or my Full Fic Masterlist.

[wootensmith]

Messy

Sorry this has taken so long. It was actually inspired by @hansaera a while ago, she wanted situations where Solas would be angry. I’m sure she’s found her idea by now, but I kept thinking about it and wanted to write something that wasn’t about saving Lavellan (not that there’s anything wrong with that). So here’s angry Solas and also angry Dorian plus bada@@ Krem, too.

He almost missed it. The training yard was meant for scuffles, after all. It was constantly in use. For combat training, as entertainment on slow days and, yes, to work out tensions that spilled over from the tavern. Part of the normal background noise as Solas made his way across the keep. But the use of an extremely filthy slur caught his ear. Neither Blackwall nor Cassandra barked a halt at the unnecessary insult as they usually would and he paused to look, his wandering thoughts arrested more by the vicious tone than the word itself. The training ring was crowded, eight or nine soldiers in Inquisition uniforms, but the rest of the yard appeared deserted. Instead of evenly matched pairs sparring under a watchful captain’s orders, the men seemed to be focused on only one object. Krem. Solas recognized none of the others and neither Cullen nor Cassandra or Blackwall were anywhere in sight. “Back off,” growled Krem, waving the wooden practice sword at the tightening ring of soldiers. “Was your sorry hide the Inquisitor dropped the Qunari to save. Least we can do is teach you how to defend yourself properly,” said one of the men. Solas disliked the crooked grin the man wore. He glanced at the others. It wasn’t practice swords in their hands. One of them darted forward, his knife flashing. Krem parried it, the metal thunking against wood and sticking. Another man saw his opportunity in Krem’s distraction and lunged. “Stand down!” Solas shouted before it could get worse. Only two of the men even turned to see who it was, and seeing only Solas standing there, turned quickly back to Krem, who grunted when a large sword clanged against his chest plate. He stumbled backward and the other men rushed in closer. “I said ‘stand down’ soldiers!” Solas roared and waded in. Idiot, he thought distantly, no armor, no staff, and you’re both outmatched. But it was a small irritation. He didn’t hesitate, just grabbed another practice sword from the barrel as he dashed past. Should avoid magic anyway. Last thing this situation needs is an angry templar commander out here. He swung the barely shaped board at the legs of a nearby man. It connected with a thwack across his thighs. It could hardly have made a sting through the man’s leather armor but it startled him and he turned toward Solas. “Krem’s a formidable foe,” snapped Solas, “but eight against one? Either your combat skills are embarrassingly poor or this isn’t a fair sparring match.” “Leave, apostate,” said the man, flourishing a dagger. “Not your business. Go back to your books.” Solas smacked the man’s wrist with the flat of his wooden sword and the dagger flew free and slid across the yard. “You leave. It’ll end much better for you,” he warned the man. He shook his head as the man’s face curled into a sneer and he hurled himself toward Solas. A swift sidestep and the man went sprawling. But two more had turned away from Krem and toward him. “Leave,” he told them, “We’re on the same side. Nobody needs to get hurt.” He was unsurprised that the response was only an attempt to stab him. He fade stepped easily out of the way, softening his resolution not to use magic in favor of keeping his internal organs in place. He erupted behind one of his attackers and struck him heavily in the temple with the pommel of the practice sword. The man reeled away and Solas swung at the other in the meantime, catching him squarely in the stomach. His opponent was knocked off kilter, surprised at the sudden arrest in his momentum, but it hardly slowed him and he managed to spin and nick Solas’s arm. “Felasil!” Solas cried, “Save it for Corypheus. We’re allies!” “Not if you’re defending that Vint dog, we aren’t,” grunted the man. Somewhere behind Solas, Krem shouted in pain. It sounded shocked, sudden, and Solas had a flash of fear. Holding back wasn’t helping. They’ve been warned and refused to heed, Solas told himself. Besides, if Cullen doesn’t have their heads for this betrayal, I will. He sent the man who had cut him flying with a stonefist and whirled to face the others. Frost spat from his fingers and crept rapidly down metal weapons, causing the men to drop them in surprise. A few yelped and fled and Solas allowed it, focusing on the four who remained. They’d cornered Krem against the stone wall. Solas could hear the thunk of Krem’s wood sword, but fists jabbed inward anyway, even as one man swore and pulled back at the sudden sting. He yanked one of the men away by the shoulder, but his advantage was mostly gone. The man was unsurprised and twisted rapidly to face him. Solas took a blow to the cheek and was flung to the ground before he could recover. “Should have gone while you could, elf,” snapped the man. “What’s the Vint to you? Cost your precious Inquisitor the favor of the Qun—” “Parshaara!” shouted one of the remaining men, and Solas realized this wasn’t a simple scuffle between Inquisition soldiers. He blasted the man above him with ice and leaped up. “They aren’t ours, Krem,” he called. “Some are,” Krem groaned. Which ones? he wondered, fade stepping in beside Krem, knocking back the other men a few feet. Let Cullen sort them out. Ice cracked and groaned around the knees of the attackers. It would not hold them long. Krem burst out, smashing them one by one across the back of the head with his practice sword. “I could have put them to sleep,” Solas protested. “Didn’t feel like being especially gentle,” grunted Krem. One of his arms hung at an unnatural angle and his face was already beginning to swell where it was struck. “I can’t blame you. But Leliana will want them to talk. Or Bull. There are Qunari spies mixed among them.” “Yeah,” sighed Krem. “I know. Just didn’t expect it today. Hope Bull’s okay.” “Where are the other Chargers?” “Out on a mission. Bull expected this, wanted us gone. I stayed— just thought I’d be with him when they tried.” Krem dropped the wooden sword with a clatter. “Didn’t really expect some of the regular soldiers to get so riled up by what happened on the Storm Coast.” He spat a few drops of blood and wiped his mouth. “Wasn’t just us the Inquisitor saved, you know. Those dreadnoughts were lost either way. There was no winning that battle.” He looked over at Solas, as if expecting some response. Solas nodded, though he’d no idea what had actually happened with the Qunari beyond the brief. It had been a tender point between himself and the Inquisitor and he’d felt it wiser not to ask. It was done, in any case. And Solas believed for the better, though saying it aloud would not have endeared him to the Inquisitor. “I’m— sorry for Bull. This isn’t— never wanted this to happen. When I convinced him to join the Inquisition, I thought it’d be good coin for a good cause. Never dreamed it would make him lose…” Krem shook his head, clutched his injured arm. “Glad you stepped in when you did, but I can handle it myself,” he finished. Solas crossed to him. “I know you can,” he said gently, “but you shouldn’t have to. The Chargers are part of the Inquisition. Allies. Friends. There should never have been room for something like this attack to grow.” He stopped. There was no reason to keep him standing here in pain to fume at unconscious fools. “You’re injured. May I?” He raised his hand, but paused as Krem flinched slightly. “Thanks,” he said, “but I’ll wait for Stitches.” Solas frowned slightly. “The bruises are one thing, Krem, but the arm— I think it’s broken. It will fester if you don’t see the surgeon. Krem crooked his head toward the unconscious men. “Surgeon could be with them.” “Hmm.” Solas couldn’t discount the possibility. “I could go with you—” Krem shook his head. “Thank you, but I need to find Bull. If these men were here, it means there are others.” “We’ll find him now. He can go with you to the surgeon afterward.” After hesitating a moment, Krem finally agreed. He clutched Solas’s shoulder with his good hand. “Can’t see for shit,” he said, squinting through his already swelling eyelids, “You’ll have to help.”

It took longer than expected to find Iron Bull. He hadn’t been in the tavern, nor Cullen in his office, Solas stopping there to ask him to clean up the remainder they’d left in the training yard. People inside the Keep had gasped and skittered out of the way when they entered the throne room, but no one offered to help. Krem was leaning heavily on Solas’s shoulder by then, and Solas knew the Charger was in immense pain. “Ambassador Montilyet will know where they are,” he said gently. Krem just muttered an agreement and let Solas lead him toward Josephine’s office. It was Dorian’s voice that erupted from the War Room first. “—thinking? Might as well have the King’s messengers announcing your whereabouts across Thedas—” “Dorian, we all knew the ri—” Iron Bull’s rumble was cut off by another shout. “Vishante kaffas! Neither of us signed up to start a war with Par Vollen—” “Josephine believes we’ve avoided that much. The Arishok sent a letter lamenting the loss, but seeks not to go further.” The Inquisitor’s voice was hesitant, doubtful. “Oh yes? That’s what the letter said, was it? What’s that gaping wound in Bull’s shoulder say?” “It’s not gaping, Kadan. It was two men, easily dispatched. I knew it was coming. It isn’t worth this chaos,” said Bull. “You knew? You knew. Maker’s breath. Why were you up on the ramparts alone then? And where on earth was Krem? He’s supposed to be looking—” Solas pushed the door open and Dorian stopped to look. He looked ready to hurl the croupier rake from the table at him. “Don’t you dare come in here to defend her Sol—” he started but abruptly stopped when he saw Krem hanging onto Solas’s shoulder. “Good, Chief?” he asked, his puffed face squinting hard to find Bull. “Damn sight better than you,” said Iron Bull rising from the chair Dorian had no doubt shoved him into. “What happened?” said Leliana sharply. “Does this have to do with the assassination attempt?” “They tried then?” asked Krem instead of answering. “Could hardly call it ‘trying’,” answered Bull tipping Krem’s face sideways to get a better look at his bruises. “Should get Stitches to look at you. Broken arm.” “He’s with the boys near Verchiel on the job, remember?” “We have healers,” said Cullen. “I’ll go and—” “There were Inquisition soldiers mixed in amongst the assassins,” interrupted Solas. “Not converts. Just men angry about losing the Qunari alliance to save the Chargers. You should head it off now, Commander, unless you want a full blown insurrection on your hands. There are a few left in the training yard, but they are not the only ones who attacked Krem.” “Did you hear rumblings of this?” Cullen muttered to Leliana, even as he strode toward the door. She shook her head. “This is ridiculous!” cried Dorian. “We’re assaulted everywhere we go, at least we ought to be safe in our own hold. Among our own forces.” “I did warn the Inquisitor when we arrived that having such a public presence would entail some risk,” muttered Leliana. Dorian scowled and pushed Solas gently aside to inspect Krem. “The Inquisitor can’t be here constantly to keep order, that’s your jobs,” he said. “Don’t blame her.” “But I am to blame, Dorian. It is my decisions that caused this.” The Inquisitor half reached for Krem, her mana already gathering in her palms. Solas could see the little muscle in her jaw working and the nervous, quick movements in her fingers. She was deeply distressed. Whether it was because of the attempted assassination or Dorian’s anger or Krem’s state, he couldn’t have said. Probably all of them, though Bull seemed calm and whole. “Why has no one seen to you?” she asked Krem. “Solas, why haven’t you aided him?” “He did. Helped me pummel the louts,” said Krem. “Don’t rightly know who I can trust in the Inquisition just now. And— I’d rather people who know me.” “I’m so sorry,” said the Inquisitor. “Is there no one here you would be comfortable with?” “The Chief can set the bone. He’s done it before.” “But the other injuries— they could be worse than they appear.” Krem hesitated. “Apart from— well, you— Dorian, maybe.” “You still trust me?” asked the Inquisitor. Krem grinned, though it appeared painful. “I don’t see why you’d sacrifice an alliance just to send idiots after the Chargers when we got back to Skyhold. Unless you didn’t want the alliance in the first place.” Krem glanced at Solas. “Him— I could see where that could be. But all you had to do to back out of an alliance was not show up. We signed on until this is through. I trust you.” Solas felt a sting at the idea he’d stir up an angry mob to attack the Chargers. The rest, he couldn’t deny. “I think I’d better handle it, sorora,” said Dorian. “You have assassins to track. And I’m not letting Bull or Krem out of my sight until Skyhold’s secure again.” He turned from Krem toward the Inquisitor, pinning her with an angry glare. “They were trying to kill them, sorora. Don’t let Bull’s nonchalance lull you. These were murderers. How many of them did you kill, Solas?” he asked without looking toward him. “As of yet, none,” he admitted. “I believed them more valuable to Leliana alive.” “Hmm,” said Dorian. “You go ahead and finish it. I’ll bring their corpses back to talk.” “Dorian!” cried the Inquisitor. “He is not wrong, Vhenan,” said Solas. “They are murderers. And even if we root out the Qunari spies, the others, the ones native to the Inquisition will remain to try again. Resentment like this does not fade. It only grows stronger and more dangerous. You want to spare them? Then eject them from the Inquisition forces. Otherwise— Dorian and I will handle them if Cullen and Leliana do not.” “No need to get messy,” Leliana said evenly. “It will be over before morning.” “A somniari is never messy,” muttered Dorian, getting an arm under Krem’s good one. “Even when the situation deserves it. Come, Amatus. We have a friend to heal.” He led Bull and Krem back down the hallway.

It was late when Dorian descended into the rotunda. Long after Leliana had interrogated her agents among the soldiers and Cullen had those foolish enough to remain and defiant enough to declare themselves a part of the gang who’d attacked Krem thrown into the stocks. Long after the Inquisitor had called all of Skyhold together for a reckoning among themselves and declared those who participated unwelcome. A few hours before dawn and the candles guttering and still Solas waited while Dorian paced and muttered in the library above. At last, Dorian strode down the stairs, his staff in one hand and a bedroll in the other. “Well?” he asked. “Are you ready to go hunting or not?” “I am ready,” said Solas. “Where’s your bedroll then?” Solas picked up the staff that he had leaned against the desk hours ago. “I don’t need it.” “Right, you can sleep anywhere. Well some of us—” “We aren’t going to do this the somniari way,” said Solas. “What?” cried Dorian, “I thought you agreed with me! You stood at Krem’s side, you saw what they were willing to do.” “I did. I do. And you’re right. This situation deserves messy. It will discourage others from following these men into folly. Leliana will try to keep too many alive, thinking she can get information out of them. The Commander and the Inquisitor will spare too many, thinking they can change them. You and I both know that men like these will not change and are too ignorant to give Leliana anything useful.” “You didn’t hold back for Leliana’s sake earlier did you?” realized Dorian. “No. I held back for Bull’s sake. And Krem’s. But everyone in the keep has seen how injured Krem is. He’s a threat to no one. And the Chargers are all absent. I arranged for Varric and Sera to start up a public game of Wicked Grace in the tavern tonight. By now they are three hands in and Bull is right in the heart of it. None of them will be blamed for what we do tonight.” “We will,” said Dorian. “Yes.” “You’re okay with that? The Inquisitor will be upset.” “She is more upset that Bull and Krem were attacked than she would be by bringing their attackers to justice. They were given the opportunity to flee. If they have not departed yet, then they are fair game.” Solas leaned forward. “But I am willing to do this alone, Dorian, if you would rather—” “No.” Dorian’s hands flashed and a soft illusion fell over them. “Let’s begin, while we still have a few hours of darkness left.”

[master-sass-blast]

If Murphy Exists, I’m Gonna Punch Him in His F*cking Balls (Happy Anniversary, Darling).

THREE HOURS OF SLEEP

FUCK MY LIFE

(if it wasn’t clear, i’m editing this on no sleep. so if it sucks, that’s why.)

Summary: You and Colossus are trying to look forward to and celebrate your one year anniversary, but Murphy and his law have other ideas for you.

Rating: T for language, extremely brief and vague allusions to gun shot wounds, and mentions of the menstrual cycle.

Pairings: Piotr Rasputin x Reader.

If there’s anything you’ve learned about your life, it’s that if anything can go wrong, it will.

What can you say? Murphy really just loves fucking you right up the ass, dammit.

It’s the week before your one year anniversary of dating Piotr. You should be excited. You should be planning just exactly how you’re going to celebrate the milestone --and stocking up on condoms and lube for the “after-party.” You should be counting down every hour to the fateful day with breathless anticipation and sharing knowing looks and smiles with the love of your life.

What you should not be doing, however, is dodging bullets.

You grit your teeth as gunfire cracks all around you and tuck yourself against the back of a metal shipping container with Ellie and Yukio. “Wade! How much fucking longer!”

“It’d be faster, but Silver Balls is taking his sweet ass time sauntering towards the shooters! Hurry it the fuck up, you chrome dildo!”

“Language, both of you,” Piotr says over the comm system. “I can only move so fast in my armor.”

“Piotr, honey, I love you, but get a move on!”

The sound of Nathan’s gun going off blares through your ear piece, and then the sound of metal screeching and people screaming is audible through the tiny speaker and somewhere past the shipping container you’re crouching behind.

“There,” Nathan growls. “Shooters are down.”

You dart out from behind the container and towards the base the Brotherhood of Mutants had been working out of. “Finally!” 

Right as Piotr starts lecturing Nathan about not killing people, a mutant with gold energy glowing around his hands jumps out right in front of you.

You shriek and launch an air current right at him --sending into a tree and turning him into mutant Jello. You stare at the remains, wincing and sucking air through your teeth. “Oh shit! Too hard!”

You boyfriend takes a moment to pat your shoulder reassuringly before chucking a pickup truck at a cluster of Brotherhood members. “It happens. Try to stay focused.”

The fight ends with a middle finger to your imminent celebration.

You get shot in the shoulder and wind up in the clinic.

You blink owlishly at Piotr as he walks into your room at the clinic, armored down and only a little scraped up. “Hi... hi... babe...”

“Privet, myshka.” He sits in the chair next to yours and takes your hand in his. “How are you feeling?” he asks as he kisses your knuckles.

“A lil’ fuzzy. Hank said he was able to ‘generate mos’ of the ‘njury.”

“Da. You’ll be down for a day or two until he finishes regeneration, and then you’ll be sore for a week or so but nothing too bad.”

“Technology. Fuckin’ awesome.”

He chuckles and kisses the back of your hand. “That it is.”

So, as if literally getting shot wasn’t bad enough, Scott puts you on shit detail for the next few days for killing someone and ‘breaking the rules.’

Add injury to insult, Piotr flies out the same damn day you’re released from the clinic to go on a mission with Wolverine’s team to finish tracking down the members of the Brotherhood that managed to escape while you were attacking the bunker.

You fume next to Nathan while you work on cleaning up one of the locker rooms. You scrub at a sink basin furiously, imagining that Scott’s face is there instead of the porcelain bowl and is taking the full brunt of your efforts. 

“Jesus, take it easy. You’re gonna fuck up your shoulder again.” Nathan takes the brush from your hands and jerks his head at one of the benches. “Sit down. Rest for a minute.”

“Sure, dad.” You sit down anyway, wincing as you stretch your shoulder. “I don’t get why they punish people for killing. It just... it doesn’t make sense. I can’t explain it.”

“For people who don’t have Wade’s tendencies, it doesn’t,” Nathan agrees as he takes over cleaning up the sink. “What I don’t get is why Scott has you on cleaning duty right after discharge from the clinic. Pete’s gonna kill him.”

“Eh, he’s just like that,” you say as you rub your sore shoulder. “He hates me.”

Nathan shakes his head. “Never thought he’d be like this.”

You look up. “He’s your dad, right?”

“Yeah. Don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Okay.” You stretch your arm and shoulder, going through the physical therapy motions you’d been given before you’d left the clinic.

The week is just sucking. You’ve been shot, put on unfair shit detail, and Piotr’s not even here to comfort you through it. Fuck, you can’t even plan an anniversary date without him here! You don’t have a license; you can’t pick up supplies and you don’t want to make reservations when you don’t even know when he’ll be getting back or what kind of shape he’ll be in.

Nathan glances over his shoulder at you when you sigh. “What’s got you down?”

You feign shock and press your hand against your chest. “The famed Nathan Summers, voluntarily talking about emotions? Did his time travelling alter reality beyond his repair? Are you having a stroke? Quick, do you know where you are--”

He chuckles, shakes his head, and goes back to scrubbing the sink. “Meter’s running, kid. If you wanna talk, do it fast.”

You let out a huff and hunch over, glaring down at the --spotless--tile floor like it had personally wronged you. “Oh, it’s just that Piotr and I have our one year anniversary this weekend and everything’s going wrong. Shitty mission, accidentally got shot, Scott put me on shit detail for no fucking good reason, Piotr’s gone so we can’t plan anything, I don’t have a license or a bank account so I can’t get supplies...”

Nathan turns, leans against the sink, and crosses his arms over his chest when your voice trails off. “You do realize that Pete’s gonna be happy to just spend time with you, right? He’s not an high maintenance guy.”

“Okay, yeah, but I never thought I’d get to have something happy and romantic like a one year anniversary. I want something special --not that Piotr’s not great on his own, because I’d be totally happy just to spend the day with him too, but--”

“I get it,” Nathan interjects. “In my time, I never thought I’d live long enough to have a family. As soon as I found Aliya, I latched on to her as much as she’d let me and didn’t let go.”

“And now you’re here.”

He shrugs. “I have Wade. The team. You. Besides, since Russel’s never gonna kill Aliya and Hope, I’m never going to make the decision to go back in time to save them. Yeah, I could go back, but there’ll be another me there, and... well, I can do more good here. Try to give my wife and kid a future with the other version of me.”

You blink slowly. “Man, you really face-fucked reality, didn’t you?”

He snorts. “Something like that.” He cocks his head to the side and studies you. “Have you and Pete had sex yet?”

“Okay, I am not talking about my sex life with you in a fucking locker room--”

“I’m just saying, you could spend the day doing that. Take it from someone who’s been married, sex on anniversaries is a pretty common thing.”

And, awkwardness aside, it’s not such a horrible idea. The idea of spending the evening --or even the day--in bed with your boyfriend sits really well with you.

You smile to yourself as Nate goes back to scrubbing the sinks. Maybe this won’t be such a loss after all.

Except it is.

After a night of fitful sleep, you wake up to an all too familiar red stain in your pajama pants.

If there was a god you believed in, you’d be flipping them off right now.

Piotr comes back during the late evening, while you’re curled up in your bed with a heating pad over your sore abdomen.

You give him a mournful look when he opens your bedroom door. “My period started this morning.”

He tuts gently and sits down next to you on the bed. “I’m so sorry, myshka. Do you have everything you need?”

“Yeah, ‘cept maybe some chocolate.”

He kisses your forehead gently. “I may have solution for that. I was thinking, if you feel up to it, we could go where we had first date tomorrow. Good celebration for anniversary, da?”

And that, in spite of the gloriously shitty week you’ve had, makes you beam. “Yeah. I like the sound of that. Can we go to the chocolate shop and get some strawberries?”

“Konechno. As many as you want.”

You wake up in Piotr’s arms --and to a world of rain and thunder.

The sky is oppressively black, save for a few bursts of lightening, and rain is coming down in sheets. You can barely see the massive elm trees that sit towards the front of Xavier’s property, to say nothing of the roads out front.

“Tornado watch,” Piotr reads off his phone after you shake him awake. “Severe thunderstorms. Risk of flooding. No driving unless absolutely necessary.”

You break down crying at the news. Between the extra emotions from your period and the disaster of a week you’ve had, you can’t help it. You flop face first onto your bed --a little over dramatic, admittedly, but you’ve earned it as far as you’re concerned--and sob into the blanket.

Piotr peels you off the blanket and pulls you into his arms. He looks shocked as he wipes tears off your cheeks. “Moya lyubov’, why are you so upset? It is just rain. We can always go another day--”

“No!” You wail. “I’ve had a shit week, and I was looking forward to this, and now it’s all ruined!”

“It is not ruined, myshka.”

“It is! First we have to go on a mission, and then I killed someone before getting shot!”

It all comes bubbling out between sniffs and sobs --the constant soreness of your shoulder, how Scott had put you on ‘penance’ as soon as you’d be discharged, how your period had hit and ruined the idea of even spending an evening together, how you didn’t even have a license which meant you couldn’t go get supplies, and how Piotr hadn’t been there to plan anything...

Eventually, Piotr just pulls you into a gentle hug while you vent about your week. “I am so sorry you have had such a terrible week, dorogaya moya. I will talk to Scott and Professor Xavier about your ‘penance.’ And try not to fret, korosho? Perhaps we cannot celebrate on exact date, but it is not end of world.”

“I know!” Your breath hitches as you wipe your face dry with your shirt. “But I never thought I’d have anything like this. I wanna celebrate it.”

“I never thought I’d have you, either.”

“I appreciate that, babe, I really do, but that’s not what I meant. I grew up hearing that I was unlovable every day.” Your throat constricts as sentimentality threatens to make you cry again. “My parents constantly told me what an abomination I was and that no one would ever want me. And here you are--” you stop for a minute to try and breathe through the sobs that are shaking you “--loving me like I deserve it, and fuck I want to celebrate that but this week keeps going so fucking wrong--”

Piotr smooths your hair and kisses your forehead. “Tische, myshka. It is okay. I understand.” He smiles softly at you, thumb gently rubbing at your cheek and the dark bags under your eyes. “Why don’t you rest for little bit? I can go talk to Scott and the Professor.”

You sniffle and pout at him. “You’ll come back, right?”

“Konechno.” He nudges you back and kisses the top of your head before pulling the covers up over you. “Rest for now. I will be back soon.”

You wake up to the sound of your phone pinging.

LOML: Meet me in kitchen for breakfast? :)

You can’t help but smile. You pull on a sweatshirt --bras are overrated when you’re on your period or in general, really--and pad down to the kitchen.

The delectable scent of pancakes and bacon lures you in, and sure enough there’s Piotr putting a decent sized stack of chocolate chip pancakes on a plate for you.

“Babe!” you exclaim. “You didn’t have to!”

He shrugs, beaming and beyond pleased with himself. “Of course I did. You are my girl and you’re upset. Even if it wasn’t our anniversary, you still deserve to feel loved and be taken care of.”

Fuck, you’re gonna cry. You’ve had a shit week, and now the literal personification of sweetness is standing in the kitchen and fixing you a plate of pancakes while telling you he loves you.

It’s been a bit of a rollercoaster, and you’re on the verge of emotional whiplash.

You wrap your arms around Piotr’s waist and press your face against his side as you start weeping again. “Thank you.”

He sets the plate down, turns so your face is against his chest, and runs his hands up and down your back while he kisses the top of your head. “You’re welcome, lyublyu.” He shifts to the side, then picks up a box of strawberries and holds it up for you to see. “I found these in fridge. I thought we could try making our own.”

You let out a surprised laugh in between gasping cries. “You’re too good to me, Piotr. Fuck, I don’t even have anything for you--”

“Don’t worry about it,” he murmurs. “It can be dealt with later.”

You press your cheek against his chest and let out a shaky breath. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

The strawberry making is blast. The two of you wind up burning a pan of chocolate before you can dip the damn things --in Piotr’s defense, that only happened because you’d distracted him--and you get more chocolate on yourselves than you do the actual berries.

Piotr winces as he starts down at his chocolate smudged fingers and forearms. “How did this even happen?”

“Hey, you took your chances when you decided to work with me.” You pat his arm sympathetically, leaving little chocolate smears wherever you touch. “Maybe you should go get cleaned up.”

He eyes the stains you’ve left and sighs. “Da. Before you decide to aim for my face.” He chuckles when you promptly swipe at his face and ducks out of his way. “I’ll be back in minute. Be good while I’m gone.”

“No promises!” You wait until he’s out of sight, then wipe your hands off on your pants before reaching for your phone.

Me: Do you know how to set up a projector?

Me: And lift heavy things?

Nathan: You do realize that projectors are woefully outdated in my time, right?

Me: Yeah, futuristic geriatric, I know.

Me: Can you do it or not?

Nathan: Yeah. Why?

You grin down at your phone screen. Piotr Rasputin, prepare to have your socks knocked off.

You glare down Nathan as you stand in front of the door to Piotr’s art studio. “I’m only saying this once. If you ever tell anyone --especially Wade--about this room, I’m going to unspeakable things to all of your guns.”

“It’s an art studio. I’ve seen it in yours and Pete’s minds. And if I haven’t told anyone at this point, I’m not going to at all.”

“Good.” You open the door and usher him in. “Okay, so here’s what I’ve got in mind...”

You and Nathan --carefully--move the furniture in Piotr’s art studio to carve out a decent sized space in the room to lay out and inflate the largest air mattress you could find in one of the many storage closets in the mansion.

You’re in the process of banking the mattress with heavy things so it won’t slide all over the place when the door starts to open. “Shit!” You dart over to the door and throw your weight against it to slam it shut. “Ow! My other shoulder!”

There’s a pause outside the door that could be described as fondly exasperated, and then Piotr’s deep voice rumbles. “Myshka... what are you doing?”

“Uh... nothing.”

“Right. And I can’t come in to my art studio because...”

“Uh... reasons. I’m trying to do something, but you can’t see it just yet.”

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing to my art studio?”

You sigh, then open the door and slip into the hall before shutting behind you. “It’s a surprise. For our anniversary. I wanted to do something nice to you.”

His expression is a mixture of genuinely touched and genuinely confused. “And you have to take over my art studio because...”

“It’s the best space for the task. Look, I swear I’m not destroying anything or disrupting the order to your space. Super promise. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

He chuckles softly and kisses the top of your head. “Do you know when you will be done?”

“Uh... nope. You’re the planner, not me.”

He smiles and shakes his head. “You are handful, myshka. But, I suppose there are other things I can do while you do... whatever it is you are doing.”

You flash him a big grin. “Good. I’ll come get you when everything’s ready.”

The rest of your day is spent darting around the mansion, gathering everything you need. You swipe blankets and pillows from yours and Piotr’s room --and run smack into your boyfriend as soon as you step into the hall.

“Y/N.”

“You can’t see me.” You adjust your armload so it covers your face. “I’m completely hidden.” You dart down the hall before he can say anything else. “Love you, babe!”

His laughter follows you down the hall, and he calls “I love you, too,” after you.

You grin as you head towards the art studio. Tonight’s gonna be great.

You pile the air mattress with blankets and pillows until it’s warm, plush, and comfortable enough to fall asleep on. Once that’s done, you dart back to Piotr’s room and swipe his DVD case.

Nathan’s gone before you get back, but the projector is set up and angled at the blank white wall in the studio. You hook it up to your laptop --a birthday gift from Wade--and make sure you can work it before you go back to setting up the space.

You take a string of white Christmas lights --you don’t know why Wade had them stashed under his bed, and you don’t want to--and hang them over the window frame. Once they’re secured --you might’ve had to tape them down--you turn them on and admire the soft glow they bathe the room in before heading out to assemble the last step of your plan.

Halfway to the kitchen, you realize you’re soaked with sweat. You detour to your room, shower off, and change before heading back to your original destination.

You put together a decent dinner --sandwiches, chips, fruits and veggies, some of the strawberries you made earlier, a couple water bottles--and pack it away in a picnic basket you’d found in a storage close before you turn around and--

jump five feet into the air because Piotr had snuck up on you while you were working.

You press your hand over your racing heart. “Christ! You scared the shit out of me, babe!”

“So sorry, dorogoy. I hope you weren’t planning on carrying that.”

“With my good hand--”

“Nyet. I was happy to let you do everything else, but I draw line here.” He reaches past you and lifts the basket out of your reach. “Your shoulder is injured. You’re not carrying this.”

You relent with a sigh. “If you insist. Everything’s pretty much ready, anyway.”

He smiles, kisses the top of your head, and takes your hand in his. “Lead the way, myshka.”

You bounce up and down on the balls of your feet, waiting in nervous anticipation while you give Piotr a moment to process the drastic renovation of his art studio.

He stares at the rearranged space, gaping while he takes everything in. He blinks, clears his throat, and says “Please tell me you didn’t move all this yourself.”

“No. I had Nathan do it. And he used telekinesis, so everything should still be in order in the drawers. And --and I made sure that all your drawings and supplies were safe, but I wanted a spot that was a little more private than the rec room and a different venue that your room or my room--”

He cuts off your rambling with a gentle kiss. “This is... incredible.” He straightens and regards the room with a quiet laugh. “I can’t believe you thought of all this.”

“Well, I wanted to do something special for you. Because if I deserve it, you definitely do. You’re kind and generous and... just really wonderful, and I thought a picnic-slash-movie night would be nice since we’ve both had a long week. And, I mean, you deserve a nice night, and I felt bad that I didn’t have anything for you for our anniversary...”

He wipes a couple stray tears of joy away from his eyes and kisses you again. “Thank you. This is amazing. It’s perfect.”

You beam up at him, delighted and so in love. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”