#but then it sat in my wips folder for like three months lol

[bambiraptorx]

It's a tradition in flying circles that after a student's first solo flight, the back of their shirt is cut off. The date, their name, and the plane's identification number are then written on the removed fabric, which is usually pinned up on a wall with the shirt backs from other students. The first solo is a significant milestone in learning to fly, as it displays enough control and knowledge to fly as Pilot In Command.

TLDR: I think Donnie should get to fly planes.

Bonus: the plane (without Donnie or the slight lens blur)

i was not gonna spend a bunch of time figuring out how to draw a plane though so i just traced a picture lol (with a few alterations)

[angelasscribbles]

Solace: A Bad Romance One-Shot

Series: Bad Romance

Bad Romance One-Shots

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings for series: [(Riley x Liam x Max) + (Riley x Drake)] + (Riley x Rashad)

Paring this chapter: Liam x Max

Rating: NSFW 🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋

Warnings for this chapter: LEMONS

Word Count:  2,059

A/N: This has been in my WIP folder since Bad Romance ended four months ago. I finally got a wild hair last night and finished it.

This takes place concurrently with Chapter 26: An Audacious Proposal. While Riley spends the night with Drake, Liam and Max grow closer and begin to form a relationship in their own right.

Shout out to @harleybeaumont who has been patiently waiting for this chapter for four freaking months lol!

My other stuff: Master List.

Max moved around the sitting room as Liam sat slumped in his favorite chair. He wasn’t pouting exactly, but he wasn’t not pouting either.

Riley was with Drake and probably would be all night. He’d told her to go. Not that she’d ever needed his permission for a goddamned thing. She’d always done whatever the hell she wanted and there wasn’t much he could do about it, never had been.

He was trying to be understanding and accommodating. It was true that Drake needed her tonight more than he did. Drake certainly needed to be with someone that he loved, someone that could comfort and soothe him. It was just dumb stupid luck that described the same person for both of them. Considering what Drake had done for her, and what he’d been through because of it, and because of him, his own inaction, he couldn’t even be mad about any of it.

But he was frustrated. Frustrated by his own actions, frustrated by the situation he’d help to create, frustrated by his own inability to keep her attention focused on him and only him. She was wild, untamable, his elusive goddess. Trying to tame her was like trying to corral the fucking wind. It only made him want her more.

“Do you want something to drink? We have your favorite bourbon.” Max’s voice filtered across the room to him.

Liam blinked as he looked up, focusing his eyes on the other man. Max was watching him closely, trying to gauge his mood. Liam sighed. He was being handled and he didn’t like it.

“Yeah, sure.” Liam said as he pulled his tie loose. He watched as Max poured the drinks then crossed the room to him. What were they to each other now? Friends still? Friends with benefits? Lovers?

“What the hell is a throuple?” Liam asked, remembering Riley’s words.

“Same as a couple.” Max answered, handing him the tumbler of bourbon as he took a seat on the couch. “But with three people instead of two.”

“Hm.” Liam regarded the other man thoughtfully.

“What?” Max looked at him in alarm, “Is that too much? We don’t have to put a label on it! If you don’t feel that way, it’s ok-“

A smile quirked at the corners of Liam’s mouth, “Max. Stop talking.”

“Sorry.” Max dropped his eyes to the drink in his hand before tipping it up and taking several long gulps.

Fuck. Well, he was certainly distracted from the Riley being with Drake issue now. Max’s demeanor set off every predatory instinct he had. He tipped his glass back slowly as he sipped the drink, focusing on his sudden arousal. His eyes stayed locked on Max whose gaze darted to him then away again several times.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Max.”

“I just don’t want to presume things.”

Liam sat up straight and leaned forward, drink clasped in both hands, “What would you like this to be?”

“I want it to be whatever you want it to be.” Max practically whispered.

“Whatever I want?” Liam’s gaze stayed fixed on the other man, heavy and intense.

Max dropped his eyes to the ground, “Yes my king.”

Liam stood and crossed the room, grasping Max by the hair and pulling him out of the chair. “Look at me, Max.” He commanded.

Max pulled his eyes up to lock on Liam, desire surging through him. That tone in Liam’s voice made him want to do anything, everything that he was told. More than wanted to, he craved it. He wanted to beg the other man to command him, but he held still, heart beating wildly in his chest as he waited for further instructions.

He didn’t need to beg though, didn’t need to say a word, Liam could see the desire to be dominated right there in those burning blue eyes. He pulled Max’s head toward him and brought his lips crashing down to meet his own, his tongue forcing its way into his lover’s mouth.

When he broke the kiss, he grabbed Max’s hand and placed it between his legs, “Do you feel that? See what you’ve done to me? What are we going to do about this?”

Max swallowed loudly, “Whatever you tell me to, my king.”

Liam groaned, “God, Max, you’re such a good little subby boy.”

“I’m your good little subby boy, Liam.”

Liam leaned in to whisper in his ear, “Yes, Max, you’re mine. I can do whatever the fuck I want with you, you know that, right?”

Max whimpered in acknowledgement and pleasure at the thought, “Yes, please use me.”

Liam released his hair as he instructed, “Go into the bedroom, take off your clothes and wait for me.”

Liam picked his glass up and took a long drink as he watched Max scurry into the bedroom. His dick was rock hard and throbbing. He’d have to get Max to the edge first because he was already teetering on it. The thought of pushing himself into Max’s well-toned, tight ass had his entire body thrumming with desire.

He quickly stripped down to his pants; shirt thrown carelessly into an empty chair. He started for the bedroom then quickly backtracked to grab his tie. Padding into the bedroom bare footed and bare chested, he clicked the door shut behind him.

Max was laying naked in the bed. In his bed. This beautiful, sexy, boy sprawled out on his bed, awaiting his instructions. Liam had to close his eyes for a moment to get himself under control. “Stand up.” He said hoarsely.

Max scrambled out of the bed and to Liam’s side. “Yes, my king? Tell me what you want. I’ll do….literally…” He stepped closer with each word, “anything…you…ask.”

“Fuck, Max.” Liam squeezed his eyes shut as his heart rate spiked.

“I mean it.” Max said as he circled Liam, kissing and licking as he went, “Anything.”

Liam stood with his eyes closed, luxuriating in the sensation of Max’s lips all over him. When Max made his way back around to the front, he started to slide down to his knees, but Liam caught him, “Nope. Stand up. It’s my turn.”

As Max stood, he found himself spun around and Liam’s tie looped around his wrists, trapping his hands behind his back. Liam tested it to make sure it was snug, “That ok? Is it too tight?”

“It’s fine.” Max responded as Liam turned him back around to face him.

Max leaned forward for a kiss, but Liam drew back, just out of his reach with a grin as he pushed Max down into a sitting position on the bed then knelt before him. He licked his lips as he looked up into his eyes. Max groaned as Liam’s tongue made contact with the tip of his cock. He thrust his hips up toward him, but Liam pushed him back down, his fingers digging into his hips and holding him in place while he playfully licked up and down Max’s length, teasing and tormenting him.

Liam took his time, going slowly, touching him gently, gradually pushing him closer and closer to the edge, methodically ramping his desire higher and higher. When Max was trembling and whimpering, Liam released him and stood up. His hand went to his own dick as he gazed down at Max with unadulterated lust clouding his eyes. He stroked himself as he commanded, “Stand up and turn around.”

Max stood and turned without question or hesitation. Liam untied his wrists and dropped the tie onto the floor.

“Good boy. So obedient.” He pressed his naked body against Max from behind, reaching around to firmly grasp his manhood. He gripped him tightly in his fist as he started to move his hand up and down, “You like that, don’t you?” He murmured before biting into the back of Max’s shoulder.

“God….yes…..fuck!” Max panted.

Liam used his foot to spread Max’s legs further apart and his other hand to work his hole, getting it ready for his use. He rubbed the lube on, gliding his finger over and around it before probing a finger inside. Max’s moans pushed his own desire higher.

“God, Max, you’re so sexy, I fucking love the sounds you make!” Liam told him as he pushed himself inside him.

Max fell forward so he was laying on his stomach on the bed, his feet still on the floor as Liam’s stood behind him, thrusting himself in and out in long, slow strokes that gradually built in intensity and strength before becoming shorter, faster and less controlled.

Max’s hands fisted in the sheets, his groans filling the room, “Fuck Liam, goddamn, yes! Fuck me baby, harder! Give it all to me, hurt me!”

A high pitched whimper escaped Liam as he pounded into Max harder, faster, his need pushing him to a frenzy. His eyes ran across the well defined muscles of Max’s sweat slicked back and shoulders, over his perfect, toned ass and he felt his balls tightened. “Fuck, Max, I can’t hold off, I need you to cum now!”

Liam slammed himself into Max even harder as he demanded, “Cum for me, Max, I want to hear you scream.”

It worked. The throbbing in Max’s center exploded as he came. He screamed, he screamed Liam’s name and a string of obscenities that tapered off into incoherent grunting as the orgasm ripped through him.

Liam thrust inside him one last time as his own release took him. He collapsed on top of the other man, their sweat mingling where their bodies touched, and nipped gently at the side of his neck.

As his breathing returned to normal, Liam pulled out and flopped down onto the bed. Max stood and attempted to walk away but Liam grabbed his arm and jerked him down onto the bed with him, “You’re not going anywhere, come here.”

Max landed on top of Liam who flipped them, so he was on top then proceeded to rain kisses all over him.

Max giggled, “Not that I’m complaining, but what’s that for?”

“I want to make sure you know that I like you, Max. I know I can be very…demanding during sex…but, that doesn’t reflect on…I mean…I do like you, for more than that.”

“I know. Liam, I like it when you’re dominating, because there’s no mistaking your desire for me. Being submissive makes me feel safe. I know it may seem counterintuitive but turning over control to someone you trust and letting them dominate you is an amazing feeling. It makes me feel loved, protected, cared for. I don’t know if you can understand…” Max trailed off.

“I can,” Liam replied, “I understand the turn on from both sides. I can be very dominating, but I have been known to give up control, occasionally. I don’t really have much choice when Riley puts her mind to it.”

“She is really good at it!” Max agreed. “You should let her peg you sometimes!”

“That’s never going to happen!” Liam told him.

They shared an awkward laugh.

“Is it weird, talking about her like this?” Liam asked, “It feels weird, but different, in a good way. Not that long ago I would have been raging with jealousy at the thought of her with you.”

“I don’t know. I think it’s a good thing.” Max responded, “I feel like it means you and I are getting closer.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Liam rolled off Max and stared up at the ceiling for a bit. Then he turned his head to his lover and asked, “Will you stay here tonight? Sleep with me?”

Max smiled so wide his face hurt, “I thought you’d never ask!”

Liam wrapped his arms around Max as he snuggled into his side. A throuple. That didn’t sound like a bad thing to him.

Instead of laying awake all night tossing and turning and obsessing over Riley being with Drake, Liam found himself entranced with the way Max smelled, the way his body moved when he stretched, the low murmur of his voice as he whispered to him in the dark.

He missed her, he wanted her in his bed, but he was content with the man in his arms, and the knowledge that she’d be back. The woman he loved always came back, and for tonight, at least, that knowledge was enough.

[dragonnan]

Author Interview Tag

Tagged by @aelaer a week or two ago, thank you!

Name: Tanya (among family I'm Nan or Auntie Nanny)

Fandoms: Sherlock, MCU, Psych, Prodigal Son, and a goodly collection of others

Where you post: For a number of years I posted on FFN but between the really shitty reviews and extremely cumbersome posting process I finally quit.  I posed on Psychfic while still an active part of that fandom but that, too, has pretty much ended.  I put a few stories on Wattpad but found it to be pretty meh. I now post exclusively to AO3.

Most popular multi-chapter fic: It's a tossup between “Fury” on Psychfic and “All Nighter” on AO3 – one based on comments and the other on Kudos.  Frankly “popularity” is really subjective because there's also stuff like read count and with comments, at least nearly half are replies from me and read count also includes re-reads as well as every time I clicked on the damn thing to edit so....

You know I'm just really not sure how to properly answer this??

Favorite story you’ve written so far: Like others have stated you can ask me this on three different days and get three different answers and there will be more than 1 fic mentioned every time so.... Because I write in different fandoms I just absolutely can't list a single fic.  The best I can narrow it would a fic from my top 3 fandoms.

Psych: Paint it Black.  I had read a fic where Shawn was gradually going blind and had really been enjoying it and the challenges it presented.  Sadly it was never completed.  As has happened before I decided I would write my own damn fic if I couldn't get a completed story so that was the primary motivation to start this.  What I most love about this is writing from Shawn's perspective as he navigates being blind and not knowing whether or not his condition is permanent.  I did my best to honor the experience of blind and partially blind people and tried to look beyond the cliché.

MCU: I have so much fun writing these stories! In spite of the dumpster fire the film canon became I do so love this sandbox and employing various forms of unfucking it.  So I'm gonna cheat a little and pick two for my faves here since one is a WIP.  Sed Diabolus.  I don't need to have completed it yet to know this will be my all-time favorite.  This is the first fic that has been entirely plotted out and OMG I'm so excited for iiiit!!  The second is Simple Math which seems like an odd choice given there's zero action – mostly just one character – hell, not even any whump.  But there is something about that deep dive into Tony's mindset that keeps this as a fave even though it was the first thing I ever wrote for the MCU.  I learned about Tony as I wrote this and I also worked my way through those motivations that bothered me regarding Stane.  Even years later I still mentally go back to this fic whenever I write Tony because I feel encapsulates the essence of how I see him as a character.

Sherlock:  Compared to other fandoms I'm still quite new to this fandom so I don't have nearly as many fics.  But I still have a favorite!  And, like with the MCU, it's the first story I ever wrote for this fandom; The Tiger and the Shark. Returning to a plot device I've employed in other fics, this one is built around a sexual assault and taking the character on a journey from that terrible event to the point where they rediscover themselves.  PTSD ever being my favorite form of whump I employ that fairly a lot in this story and employ some kinda radical methods for coping with those memories.  

Fic you were nervous to post: I mean until I start getting comments I'm a world of anxiety with every story I post.  But grabbing a specific fic that hit my nerves – that Sherlock fic I'd said was my fave certainly qualified.  Not only was it my first Sherlock fic – it also was charging out of the gate with a very heavy topic so yeah – I wasn't sure if people would absolutely hate it or find my characterizations totally off or what.

How you choose your titles: It varies a bit.  In some stories, like Sed Diabolus, I actually consult friends on various ideas.  Other times I'll consider songs or lyrics and my favorite thing is if I can alter the known title just a bit to make it more relevant to the fic (I did that a LOT with Psych fics which was the method the show also employed for its episode titles).  One of my favorite Psych titles is “The Wizard Was the Wicked Witch and the Scarecrow Lost His Courage”.  

Do you outline: Almost never – not until “Sed Diabolus”.  That story, though, is so astoundingly complex that without an outline I'd be hopelessly lost.  I am, though, trying to make a practice of outlining more because it helps SO much!

Complete: If we count every one-shot collection and challenge collection it likely is over 200 stories. Of course a lot of those are one-shots.  My total completed chaptered fics number maybe around 34?

In progress: 16 – between Psychfic and AO3.  All Psych stories are on long-term hiatus for the foreseeable future (some, honestly, I will never finish as they are many many years old and I've lost the inspiration for the plot). Several MCU stories are also on the back-burner while I focus on “Sed Diabolus”.  I admit I get LOTS of story ideas and staying focused on a single fic is not something I've ever been greatly successful with.

Coming soon/not yet started: I meaaaan.... lots?? I have probably several hundred ideas and partially started fics across many fandoms.  As to “imminently coming soon...” I don't think I currently have an active story that I haven't already posted at least a first chapter.  Sadly I have zero patience for developing something for months before posting which is why I have so many WIPs.  That said I DO have a Sherlock au that has been poking at me now and then involving the witch trials that started in Denmark and, eventually, made their way to Salem.  The idea would be that Molly Hooper is accused of being a witch.  She, of course, is innocent but cause this unfortunate attention due to her “uncanny” ability to heal the sick and injured (not so much uncanny as opposed to employing methods that aren't so reliant on superstition and folklore).  

She is scheduled to be tortured and executed but is saved by Sherlock – a strange recluse primarily ignored and given a pass as he solves mysteries for people. He and his friend John save Molly from this awful fate. The twist is that Sherlock is a sorcerer (bit of marvel crossover-ish) and able to transport them to safety.  

Do you accept prompts: I wish I could cause I love ideas but I don't have the time/energy to always work on what I already have and I'm awful at follow thru.  Like I will never turn away an Ask wanting to share ideas but I can't promise that I can actually write anything.

Upcoming story you are most excited to write:  As was the reply to a previous query – I have lots that are ideas that will linger in partial stages for sometimes years.  If it's “upcoming” I've already posted the first chapter lol!  But, again, I have several story ideas that whenever I poke through my folders I get excited about someday actually writing them.  Here is a teaser for an MCU fic involving Tony Stark and Obie (I still feel this was never explored enough – certainly not in fic):

They were doing a retrospective, ten year anniversary kinda... whatever.  Unofficial, of course. Certainly nothing Pepper would have dreamed up even at her most drunk (which, honestly, was never her scene.  Tony had sorta owned that space well beyond the time it had started owning him).  Whose idea it ultimately had been?  Frankly Tony couldn't give a fuck.  That he was asked to be one of the speakers was slightly more... awkward. Awkward was the right word, yeah?  Nauseating was certainly another and possibly a bit more accurate.

Dead for a decade and Obadiah Stane still managed to fuck with his life.

But... it hadn't always been that way. At least, not as he'd believed back when the Walkman had been on every kid's Christmas list.  

He'd thought it was bonding; at the time.  His dad had never been one for just hanging out; shooting the shit; telling tales out of school.  No, Pops, when he bothered to interact, led with questions.  “You keeping your grades up?” “You still seeing that floozy?” “When are you going to pull your head out of your ass and grow the hell up?” “You do realize it's my name you're disgracing every time you go on a bender?”

With Obie it was just, easy.  Obie might ask about school but it was always with approval and pride.  He would discuss Tony's conquests as though Tony had climbed Kilimanjaro wearing nothing but underwear and a cape.    

Obie was there when his father wasn't. Which meant that Obie was always there.  The first time he got astoundingly drunk on his father's scotch, Obie was the one to help him hunch over the toilet and vomit expensive, aged booze into the toilet.  Obie was also the one to replace the depleted bottle to keep Howard in the dark.  For a fourteen year old kid still trying to gain his dad's favor, that had meant everything.

He saw his first porn with Obie; sex education ala Traci Lords, three months shy of his fifteenth birthday.  That was the same time he was introduced to weed.  Obie had cautioned him to use it sparingly; didn't want to fry that genius brain, he'd say, and ruffle his hair.  The porn had made him uncomfortable.  Obie had turned it off and told him they could watch whatever Tony wanted.  They'd ended up changing the station to Knight Rider; smoking and munching Cheetos and laughing over their orange fingers.

It was Obie who was there, arm around his shoulders, after his parents died.  He desperately didn't want to sob in front of the man.  Things were so complicated with his dad that all he felt was blinding guilt... as though some part of him had caused this.  But Obie had filled him with bourbon until the emotions got soft around the edges and he'd sat beside the older man, head tipping gradually to the right until he was held up by Obie's shoulder.  Obie had just slung an arm around him and let Tony pass out while he rubbed a broad hand up and down his bicep.

It was strange, now, looking back with adult perspective.  A perspective that included Afghanistan and his intended execution while Obie talked about legacy and responsibility while Tony's lungs slowly seized.  He'd taken the time to sit there – arm around Tony's shoulders while one broad hand traveled up and down Tony's bicep – just like when he was a kid and Obie was the whole world.

He'd tried to remember if it had felt so... tainted... at the time.  Or if he'd always believed it was love.

Obie had never quite crossed that line. Though hindsight offered a peek into that possibility with enough clarity Tony had fought with his cramping gut for nearly thirty minutes.  He'd staved off vomiting though he was fairly certain his dignity had still been in tatters what with Bruce wandering in on his misery.

Upcoming story you are most excited about (this is basically a repeat of the above question so I decided to change it.  Do you have a future story idea you'd like to write that is not yet beyond the vague idea stage?  I love stories that put Molly in some sort of jeporady and I have a barely formed idea to someday write a “stalker fic” of some sort and not I don't care that this trope had been done on  repeat – I still love it lol!  I have a smidge of writing for it:

“I need your help.”

As afternoons at Baker Street went, this was a mundane request heard so often that Sherlock's typical reply, “Obviously, or you wouldn't be here”, could have been printed on flash cards.  The detective had actually made the suggestion after a particularly full day at the flat and having heard the statement no less than twenty times.  

Today, however, Sherlock merely blinked for a moment.  Then, with an awkwardness rare to a man with a lethal sort of grace in his movements, Sherlock gestured to John's chair, JOHN'S CHAIR, before taking his usual seat.

Molly didn't exactly smile but her lips edged up a bit before she sat.

John cleared his throat before pointing a vague hand towards the kitchen.  “I'll just go make some tea, shall I?”

“No, please, I...”  The stammer in her speech was not uncommon; though John couldn't recall such obvious fear.  Forgoing the kitchen he, instead, took the hard wooden chair facing the other two.

“Molly, what's wrong?”

Tagging: @kitcat992 @mizjoely @sgam76 @ariaadagio @hanuko @ceruleanmindpalace