#i saw the tropes and ran with them to ao3 immediately

[d1sheclectic]

nobody prepares you for the isolation you feel when the rest of your class stops caring about the outsiders when you’re knee deep into your hyperfixation on it like u guys can’t seriously be leaving me here ALONE😕💔

[sunandflame]

Shards of Glass, Chapter 6

Summary: Kyojuro Rengoku, History Teacher on the Kimetsu Academy, is constantly having strange dreams about a Slayer who looks exactly like him. He thinks nothing of it until he recognizes a very specific person from these dreams and feels a very unique connection to her.

Pairing: History Teacher Kyojuro x Teacher Fem!Reader

Trope: Reincarnation / Sequel to Flame and Water (can be stand-alone)

Word Count: 1962

Warning: slightly suggestive

Pinterest Board of Shards of Glass

Crossposted on AO3

Masterlist of Shards of Glass

It was Friday. Kyojuro was dressed up nicely in clean jeans and freshly washed shirt, having a single pink rose on his desk and the two tickets for the Kyogen Theater show in his pocket. He was ready for his date, or at least he thought so.

‘Hey, I’m sorry, can’t make it today but have fun at the theater!’

He looked at the message on his phone with a sullen expression and frowned. Luckily he was the only one in the staff room so no one could see the disappointment in his face. He had decided to stay a little bit longer in school and then go to his date straight from there. He sighed. He had been really looking forward to the date, not necessarily because of the girl - but for the event because he loved the Kyogen Theater and hoped to have other thoughts than thinking about Y/N, who he had avoided as much as possible all week.

He let out another sigh as he sat down in his chair and hung his head. He felt miserable. The rejection was his punishment for ignoring her. He had seen how she had tried to approach him for conversation, but he always fled. Like a coward. He ran his hands through his hair and immediately felt his heart beat faster when he saw her in front of him, realizing he was not the last one here.

“Hey, are you alright?”

Her voice was so gentle and sweet, nearly angelic - he realized how much he missed it. He had ignored her and she was still worried about him. He should commit seppuku, he thought sullenly. "Yes, everything is alright."

“Did you know that you are a bad liar?” She tilted her head and raised a single eyebrow.

“I guess you are right.” He chuckled. Who would have thought that his bad mood could change so quickly with her.

“I am always right,” she giggled with a teasing smile. “You really look sad and depressed. It’s very unusual for you. You can confide in me. I promise I won’t tell anyone.” She came closer and sat on his desk.

Kyojuro tried not to stare at her thighs that were suddenly so close to his face. It also didn’t help that she was wearing one of her flowy sundresses that looked so pretty on her. He leaned back in his chair to create a bigger gap between them, closed his eyes and sighed. “I just got dumped.”

It was silent for a moment and he dared to open his eyes again. She just stared at him again with her head tilted and mustered him. “So this is why you are dressed up so nicely?”

“Hey, I always dress nicely!”

“Well that one tie with the flames you wore one day was not that nice, but I think the fashion gods can forgive you since you are so handsome.” She giggled with a blush on her cheeks.

“You think I am handsome?” His ears perked up and he got slightly up from his chair. Her soft and innocent flirting made his blood rush.

Her blush turned a tint deeper and she tried to change the topic by bringing back the original one. “I am really sorry that you got dumped. This must hurt.”

“Yeah, it’s a really bummer since I already bought these tickets.” He brought the tickets out of his pocket and threw them on the table. 

Interested, she took one of them and read it out loud. “Kyogen Theater… Is that not a traditional comic theater? This sounds fun! Though I never saw one.”

"Well, I have two tickets, you know…” Before Kyojuro could realize what he said he saw how her eyes lit up. 

“Really? I would love to! Just let me message Kenji quickly before getting ready! I would not want to make him worry.” She slid excited from his desk to get her phone and quickly typed a message. 

Kenji, so that was the name of that man that holds Y/N’s heart. His thoughts would have turned bitter, but her excitement was so refreshing that he did not have the time for it, watching her as it brought a smile to his face. “There is also a free flower with the tickets.” He gave her the pink rose he had bought for his date, but who was he lying to. When he bought the rose in his break time he had thought about her, and her pretty white dress with the pink flowers.

She took the flower from him and took a pair of scissors to shorten the stem and blunt the thorns. He watched her with interest before seeing her put the flower in her hair. She smiled and turned around the circle. “And does that suit me? Am I even properly dressed for that? What do you wear to an event like this?”

He watched how the fabric of the dress flowed around her hips, swaying perfectly. His heart was beating fast again and before he could stop himself he said, “You look perfect.”

~ ~ ~

Never had he had so much fun in his life. It was not the first time he was at this play, which was hilarious, but having this experience with Y/N. Seeing how she enjoyed the evening, how she got tears in her eyes from laughing, seeing her happy. It was all more than he wanted. That she was sitting so close to him, the thighs next to each other, her perfume waving over to him and haunting his senses. Or how she put her hand on his forearm to keep from doubling over with laughter. It was a bonus and something that pushed away the thought that she actually belonged to someone else and that he would probably never get over her.

Even when the play ended she didn't let go of his arm until they arrived at his car. Still laughing and talking, getting out of her shell in a way he did not see in the school or at the drinking party. The blonde man was on cloud nine, since she trusted him so much to be herself and feel comfortable. They talked for a long time about the performance and then about everything and the world, neither of them realizing that they had already arrived at her house. But they were so deep in their conversation that she simply stayed sitting in his car the whole time. 

She looked at her watch. “Oh no, it’s already so late!”

He also looked at the time and was surprised at how quickly the evening had passed. “Yeah, you shouldn’t keep your boyfriend waiting so long. He’s definitely worried about you.”

But not a single word about Kenji left her lips. She just took the flower out of her hair and put it onto his, leaned in and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. “Thank you so much, it was a wonderful evening. The most beautiful one I’ve ever had.” With those words, she got out of his car and walked into the apartment complex, leaving Kyojuro sitting there in the car with his mouth hanging open.

He touched his cheek almost blissfully, not believing what had just happened. She had kissed him! His face beamed beyond measure and no one could spoil the smile on his face. Not even Kenji, who had watched the whole thing from the window, but Kyojuro didn't know that as he happily started the car's engine and drove home with the pink rose in his hair.

Y/N felt all giddy and excited like a young schoolgirl. The butterflies in her stomach were dancing. All the feelings of happiness she was experiencing suddenly disappeared when she saw Kenji in front of her as she entered their shared apartment. She was startled. It wasn't that he scared her, Kenji was a nice guy who would not hurt a fly. She had known him since middle school. He was the type of guy who persisted when pursuing his dream, or even the girl he loves. Since back then he had adored and followed her around, asking her several times on a date until she said yes. One date turned into two and later into a relationship. She liked Kenji a lot but everything always felt -

“Y/N, do you actually know what time it is?” His gaze was expressionless. She didn't like it when she didn't know where she stood with him. She didn't like it when people suppressed their feelings.

“I'm sorry, we totally lost track of time.” She put down her bag and took off her coat.

"Who is we?"

“I texted you that I was with my colleagues. You know that I'm trying to make new friends at my new workplace." She didn't look him in the eyes, taking off her shoes.

“You have the audacity to lie to me. You didn’t write anything about a male colleague!”

“Yes, because I knew how jealous you would become!”

“How do you expect me to react if I see you kissing him in the car!”

“That was a harmless good night kiss on the cheek!” She knew that was not true. She knew that no matter what she said, Kenji would not calm down, because no matter how kind hearted and friendly he was. No matter how much he loved her and would put the world at her feet, he was also terribly jealous. And she knew that this heated argument was just the beginning and would not end quickly.

 ~ ~ ~

The kiss on his cheek lingered for a long time as the smell of her perfume haunted him. He had slept great and woke up with something hard between his legs as his dreams took a lewd direction for the first time. Embarrassed, he took a cold shower to calm himself down and decided to visit his parent's place again. After yesterday he was more determined to find what he was searching for.

And he actually found what he was looking for. Behind the crib he saw a piece of clothing hanging. Put in a special plastic to preserve garments and protect them from moths and aging processes. He pushed everything aside to take a closer look. It was a haori in white-yellow gradient pattern and red flame-like ridges at the end. He stared at it for a few moments until he understood that this must be his ancestor’s haori whose memories he kept seeing. 

Kyojuro had to sit down on the floor at this realization. This was remarkable! The haori was still in such good condition after all these years. The history teacher's passion had been awakened. He wasn't supposed to do it, but he unzipped the plastic cover to the side and wanted to feel the texture of the material. It felt like someone was pulling him through a void the moment he touched the fabric of the haori.

Everything was black for a fraction of a second and then so bright that it blinded him. It took him a few seconds to get used to the dazzling light just to find himself in bright daylight in a field filled with red spider lilies. He saw someone in the distance and slowly walked towards them. With each further step he recognized first the haori and then the blonde-red hair. "Who are you?" As soon as the question left his lips, the person turned to him with a smile as his white haori blew in the wind.

The history teacher, who felt so out of place, widened his eyes and recognized him immediately. It was the same presence he had felt over 5 years ago, watching him constantly over his shoulder.

“It’s you.”

[acourtofladydeath]

The way I ran to this inbox!!!!!!!!!!!!! Given our recent discussion...I'd love to see some angsty feytamsand with a happy ending!!! Maybe forced proximity trope thrown in there? 💗

OK THIS IS VERY EXCITING.

Was I initially shooting for 500 words? Yes. Did I immediately know it would be 1K but still want it to be under that? Yes. Is it? noO. But that's okay! This is the first in what I hope will be a series of exercises where I learn to write and achieve my story goal in less words. In the end, I just had to take my hands off the keyboard and go with it in the spirit of the drabble exercise!

I sort of forgot about the forced proximity part of the request...but it's definitely angsty and leads to a HEA! I sincerely hope you enjoy "Live, and Be Happy." What is the first of what I think will be many polycule ACOTAR fics I write.

TW: mention of slight self harm

Read here on AO3 or under the cut!

A loud crash sounded through the main hall of the river house as Lucien burst through the doors, coat askew and breathing heavily. 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Rhysand jumped from the couch where he lounged next to Feyre, who sat up and immediately asked, “is he okay?” 

Lucien stood hunched and disheveled, sorrow in his eyes as he looked between the mated pair before him. When he’d caught his breath enough to speak he could only get out a few words, “he’s not well,” before they were both heading out the door, brushing past him carelessly. 

“How was he when you last saw him?” Feyre asked as she rushed to keep up with her mate's frantic longer legs.

“Not bad enough to worry you.” 

Feyre scoffed, pacing past him to turn and face him, stopping Rhysand in his tracks. “That was not the deal, Rhysand. We agreed you could go see him in person without me until he felt ready if, and only if, he was okay in the meantime.” She stared down his violet eyes, unyielding in her anger and fear. 

Rhysand had continued to visit the Spring Court in hopes of helping Tamlin rekindle his control. They hadn’t counted on it rekindling other things as well. After one particularly long visit, Rhys had explained his former relationship with Tamlin before they’d become high lords.

After Rhys revealed their former, and newly sparked feelings, Feyre had started writing back and forth with the male she’d once hoped would become her mate, and was surprised to find her own feelings for him returning as well. Tamlin it seemed was happy to love them both, but his depression and the trauma he’d been dealt and never dealt with had taken its toll.

Rhysand’s violet gaze was full of emotion, pain for the male they both had grown to love again, fear for his condition, conviction to protect Tamlin, and shame from deceiving the female they both loved so deeply. Eventually, he bent under the solid will of Feyre’s stare, dropping his head toward the ground between them. 

“Take me to him” she said, a statement with no room for question, as she held her hand out to grab his own. Rhys quickly winnowed them to the place in Spring he knew Tamlin would be. 

Tamlin’s struggle with his own monsters had been going on much longer than he’d wanted to admit, and when he’d finally started opening up to Rhys about it after that one solstice, it was like a damn broke, drowning him thoroughly. Today had been worse than most. He and Lucien had been discussing how the courts were still healing from the Hybern War and Amarantha’s reign under the mountain, when he’d suddenly been triggered by a particularly bad bout of memories.

Unable to stop himself, he’d transformed into his beast, attempting to punish himself for being the cause of so much suffering. His friends, his courts, the other courts, and worst of all the suffering of the two people he held closest to his heart. 

When Feyre and Rhysand arrived, he was huddled on the floor of the cabin he ran off to to be alone, away from the prying eyes of his court. Both arms wrapped around his head and knees tightly as if he could hold himself together while his claws pierced into his skin, drawing thin streams of blood that flowed down his bare skin. He’d managed to stop harming himself most of the time, but still couldn't stop this one action to hurt both to punish his wrongs and to remind himself he was still alive. 

In the doorway, Feyre let out a soft sound somewhere between a gasp and a sigh, her tattooed hand rising to stifle the noise as she looked up on Tamlin for the first time in years. Rhysand moved forward slowly, his focus solely on the male before him. “Tam, it’s me,” he said as he slid onto his knees in front of the broken person in front of him, taking his tortured face between both his hands. 

As Rhys tried to tilt Tamlin’s face up toward his, he felt the male recoil away. Placing their voices together, Rhys spoke in a soft voice cracked with emotion. “Please don’t hide from me. I’m not scared of you. We want to help, Tamlin. Please let us help.” 

With that word, Tamlin looked up, his dulled eyes currently a deep, pained green. With a voice harsh and hoarse from what Rhys was sure had been hours of screaming, Tamlin spoke, “we? I thought Lucien left?”

Feyre had slowly walked into the cabin as Rhysand steadied her first love, until she was not standing a few paces away as she spoke. “He did, but he didn’t abandon you Tamlin. He came to get us, to get me.” Slowly, Tamlin turned to face her. Rhys’s hands still steadied him, one caressing his jaw tenderly, while the other softly ran across the spots Tamlin had punctured his shoulder. 

Unable to stay away any longer Feyre rushed forward the last steps, dropping to her knees and wrapping her arms delicately, yet firmly around his neck. After a long moment, Tamlin spoke, his face buried in her neck. “Why are you here…why would you bother to care for me, Feyre…after everything I did.”

Feyre pulled back, one hand caressing Tamlin’s chin as the other reached to cover Rhys’s hand still rubbing the sore marks on his shoulder. “We are both here Tamlin, because we see you. Because we’ve been where you are, and you deserve someone in your corner as you work through this.” 

Tamlin seemed to scoff at that, as if he either believed he didn’t deserve to heal, or was incapable. “That doesn’t explain why you are here, either of you.” As he said the second part of the statement, Tamlin looked between the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court, sensing the cooling mist of Rhys’s magic that always seemed to calm him.

“We’re here because we love you, Tamlin.” Rhys’s smooth and soothing words hanging in the air between the three of them. Feyre spoke then, adding to her mate’s words, “both of us. You deserve to be loved.” 

Using her hand to tilt Tamlin’s chin up to meet her gaze. “Do you remember what you told me, after you brought Rhys back? You told me to be happy. You deserve to be happy too, Tamlin.”

Rhysand’s one hand rested on his mate’s back while she held Tamlin’s gaze, his other gently holding Tamlin’s neck, thumb brushing against his jaw softly, in the way he’d often done so long ago. “Let us help you come back, teach you to be happy again. The three of us.” 

Tamlin closed his eyes, a tear softly falling and being wiped away before it tracked too far. And for the first time since his father died, Tamlin truly felt like it was true, like he could learn to be happy. The three of them together could bring him back to life.

[andreafmn]

I'm Not Afraid - Chapter 1

Word Count: 3,325

Characters: Female Reader Argent Character, Original Male Argent Character, Derek Hale, Allison Argent, Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey, Lydia Martin, Chris Argent, Jackson Whittemore

Story Description: (Y/N) Argent arrived at Beacon Hills to put to rest her father's sister, Kate Argent. For the first time, her family has decided to settle down and sustain a life in this interesting small town. After 17 years, (Y/N) has the opportunity to establish interpersonal relationships but will she be ready to face the complications that come with relating to her cousin's, Allison, friends; especially, the infamous Derek Hale. She will face the adventure of being associated with the Derek and McCall pack as well as being faced with the discovery of certain aspects of her life she never imagined.

*DISCLAIMER* I do not own in any way Teen Wolf, all credits of the pre-established characters, script, and storyline belong to Jeff Davis and MTV Network. The only thing I own is Argent Reader insert, her immediate family, and her storyline, as well as her effects in the others' storyline.

Chapter: 1/?

Chapter Description: (Y/N) finally arrives at Beacon Hills for the funeral of her aunt and meets a certain wolf to which she feels a special connection.

A/N: Second fandom I'm writing for. I love Teen Wolf so much and the trope of hard Derek but only soft for you makes my heart sing. If you enjoy my writing I’ll also be posting them in AO3 and Wattpad along with other stories (I also hope to start taking requests if ya’ll want) Hope you enjoy and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

Next ->

Chapter 1

I hugged the black coat to my body as hard as I could whilst pushing through the sea of press. Our family's last name became quite known after the reports about my aunt, whose burial we were attending. She had allegedly burned down a house with people in it.  She killed them in cold blood. I hugged my grieving uncle and his less grieving wife, then my cousin who had a painful look on her face. I hugged her the longest. She let herself crumble on my arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Even though she was a horrible person she was still our aunt, family.

I took my seat behind Allison when my father, my mother, uncle Chris, and aunt Victoria stood up. Allison didn't lift her head and neither did I. I just tried to comfort her.

"It's been such a long time I don't expect you to call me grandpa." We both looked up to see a white-haired man who resembled the Argent features. "Don't worry about it, just call me Gerard." He hugged both of us, an overpowering aura emanating from his being. When we were engulfed, I looked to the side and saw two boys squatting behind a gravestone. If they were hiding, they were doing a horrible job at it.

"But I prefer Grandpa," Gerard said walking to his seat. I sat back down and drifted off during the whole ceremony. Once it was over, I joined my parents and we drove to our new house. I have a feeling that life here will be very interesting.

That weekend I decided that I had been putting working out off for too long. I changed into comfortable workout clothes and gave food to my dog, Brody. I headed out the door, put my earbuds on, and started to jog. I really didn't know where I was going since it was a new place for me, all I know is that I kept running until I reached the woods. The bad thing about this, I had no idea how to get back home. Even though I knew of this sidetrack and I knew I would be late to get back home, I kept running, needing a release from the mundane feeling of being new in town and having to reunite from our estranged family in a funeral.

I had gained a lot of momentum. God knows how fast I was running at this point that is until I hit something, it almost felt like a wall. When I looked up, I saw a very handsome guy. Spiked hair, green eyes, and slight stubble. If it weren't for the fact that I was already sweaty I would have started to sweat showers of how nervous I was. That is until he opened his mouth.

"Watch where you're going." He growled at me.

"How about you fucking move and not be a prick?" He looked at me with big eyes, probably in surprise, but quickly changed to his menacing look. Who was he trying to fool?

"Well, this is private property, which means that you're trespassing, meaning you should pay more attention to your surroundings."

"I'm sorry but a burnt-down house with almost no walls or roof is barely a property. So, how about you stop being an idiot and I can be on my way." I started to jog once again but he gained my attention once more.

"You're new here, aren't you?" I turned around to face him.

"What's it to you?" He raised his eyebrow.

"I'll take that as a yes." The cockiness oozed out of his pores.

"And why the hell should that matter?"

"Because no one would dare talk to me that way."

"Who would be afraid of a little sour wolf?" He tensed up. "Dude, chill. I'm just kidding. But I doubt anyone would be afraid of Mr...."

"Hale. Derek Hale." He said extending his hand to me. Gee, after screaming at me he wants us to be acquaintances. I thought about not shaking his hand, but I didn't want to be rude. Well, more than I have been already.

"(Y/N). Argent." I shook his hand. Strong grip. Suddenly I felt a rush of déjà vu; I had met him the day before. "Wait, aren't you that guy I accidentally hit with my grocery cart yesterday?"

"Yeah, that really hurt. You hit my ankle. You could've had me limping."

"But you're not, so be grateful I didn't break your ankle." He laughed. "Damn, if I had known how cocky you really were, I would've hit you harder."

"So, you admit that you hit me?"

"Oh yeah, of course, I hit you. Accidentally that is."

"Yeah, yeah."

I looked around trying to find where the hell I had come from but there wasn't even the slightest trail as to where I was to go.

"So, miss (Y/N). Do you even know your way home?"

"No, but I'm sure I can find my way back." Then, he took keys out of his pocket and pointed to his car.

"Come on, I'll drive you around and you just tell me when something seems familiar."

"And why should I go with the guy that almost ripped out my throat for bumping into him? For all I know you could be driving me to my death." I crossed my arms over my chest, and he let out a loud sigh.

"Look, I'm sorry for snapping. But I'm trying to be nice. That doesn't happen very often."

"Alright, Mr. Hale. I'll let you take me home just because you are being nice now, after being a prick, and I'm exhausted."

"See, no one can resist me." I rolled my eyes at his cockiness. Seriously does he buy cans of it on eBay?

"Don't get cocky with me. I can punch the living daylights out of you." He chuckled and started to drive.

We drove for about 20 minutes until I finally recognized the curb that led to my house. Upon arriving at my driveway, I got out of the car and walked to the driver’s side.

"Give me your hand” For some reason, I felt compelled to do so. He took a pen and wrote down a number. "Call me if you ever need a tour of the town."

Three weeks later, I walked inside the school to meet up with Allison. I moved here with my family since dad had some business taking float. Being the new kid in town is never fun. I would know. I switch schools almost every year. The pro and con about this would be not being attached to anyone. Usually, I'm the one who doesn't talk to anyone and is called a freak. A derogatory term given to people who are way too different from others, but a title I wore proudly.

"Oh my gosh, (Y/N)! How have you been?" Allison wrapped her arms around me and hugged me tightly. It was as if she hadn't seen me just three weeks ago.

"Hi, Allison. I've been good, getting acclimated to the new town. You?" You would think that because we were cousins, I would be more affectionate towards her but honestly, I wouldn't see her again for like three more years, so what's the point?

"I'm good. A little rocky at the start of coming here but good." Then, a boy with a buzz cut and one with great brown hair walked by and smiled at Alli. "Ooh, you should come meet my friends. Stiles, Scott!! Come here." The boys turned around with goofy grins on their faces.

"Hey, Allison. Who's this?" Buzzcut kid said.

"This is my cousin, (Y/N). She just moved here from Virginia."

"Pleasure to meet you. I'm Scott." The one with the great hair said.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Stiles." I shook their hands and smiled.

"Nice to meet you, too, buzzcut." Allison and Scott laughed but Stiles only ran his hand through his hair, suddenly becoming hyperaware of his lack of locks.

"Allison. Who might this sexy lady be?" I rolled my eyes. The last thing I need is a narcissist with a god-complex trying to get close.

"Oh, Jackson, this is my cousin, (Y/N)."

"Hi." He extended his hand and looked me up and down.

"Hi." I smiled sarcastically, and when I didn't extend my hand, he dropped his.

Finally, after standing awkwardly behind Allison whilst her friends talked, the bell rang. Talk about saved by the bell.

"Hey, (Y/N), what's your first class?" I checked my schedule.

"Um, chemistry."

"Oh, good, then you're coming with us to Mr. Harris' class," Scott said pointing towards him and Stiles. I smiled and walked behind them.

Once we got to the classroom everyone turned to me, the ever-present sign of being new in the class evident in the stare of my classmates.

"Um, hi, my name is (Y/N) Argent and I'm new." The teacher, whom I guess is Mr. Harris, turned around to face me.

"Oh, yes, Miss Argent. Welcome. You will be sitting next to Isaac Lahey. Lahey, raise your hand." Once Isaac raised his hand, I noticed he was sat near Stiles and Scott. Two people I was trying to avoid. As I walked past, I accidentally pushed Stiles' book on his lap, startling him, resulting in an awkward descent from his lab stool onto the floor.

"Hi, again. I guess we are gonna see a lot of each other for the rest of the school year." I nodded and he scratched the back of his neck. "So, um, what school did you come from?"

"Lancaster High," I responded whilst writing down what Mr. Harris was writing on the board. Stiles kept trying to talk to me, but I would only give him short, cold answers or just ignore him. That is until Mr. Harris called our attention, that's when he finally got the memo to shut up.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I just wanted to introduce myself since we're gonna be seated next to each other all year. I'm Isaac."

"I figured." I tried giving him my best smile. The vibe he was giving off seemed like he needed it. "I'm (Y/N)."

"Well, nice to meet you, (Y/N). Now I'll leave you to the class because if I don't I know I'll be failing even more than I am."

"Oh, well, maybe I can tutor you some time. I'm actually really good at science. My mom was a chemist professor once upon a time so I'm bound to understand all this."

"Really?!" His puppy eyes seemed to light up and I nodded. "That would actually be amazing."

"Sure thing. Now let's get back to class."

After Chemistry finished, I put everything in my bag as quickly as possible and sped to my next class, Math. Thankfully, none of Allison's friends shared this class with me but I did share it with Isaac.  I didn't consider him much a friend but more an acquaintance in desperate need of help.

As the day progressed, I noticed the rest of my classes were shared with one or more of Allison's friends. They all tried to strike up a conversation but were quickly discouraged when met with my one-worded or vague answers. Especially, Stiles. He tried especially hard to get answers out of me, only being met with the occasional laugh or stare at his comical occurrences. He seemed like the kind of person you could just open up to. The same could be said about Scott. His shy nature was alluring, and he portrayed himself as a very trustworthy and loyal being.

But I would not allow myself to let them in. My whole being yearned for a real friendship, someone to share nothing and everything; never again.

At lunch, I sat outside and ate my food quietly, a book in front of my face to shield my eyes from the sun the prevalent stares of my peers. After some minutes of appreciated loneliness, the empty table was filled with conversating teenage bodies. I smiled politely but, in my mind, I was cursing them out.

"So, (Y/N), how's your day been?" Allison asked whilst munching on an apple. I swallowed what was left of my bite and answered.

"Fine, thank you." This time no one pressed on after my short answers, finally getting the hint of my disinterest. In the corner of my eye, I saw Isaac sitting under a tree munching on half a sandwich. I excused myself and went to join him, heavily enjoying his tranquil aura.

"Oh, hi, (Y/N)." He smiled sheepishly.

"Hey, Isaac. Is that all you're eating?"

"Yeah. I'm not very hungry." He looked down as if he were ashamed.

"Nonsense! Here," I gave him the other half of my burger and another bag of chips I had in my bag. "You can't tell me you're not hungry. You're a boy in peak development."

"Thanks." He smiled as he continued munching on his food. I put on some music and we continued eating in silence. No conversation required.

The day went on smoother than it started. Classes flew by fairly quickly and the incessant chit-chat seemed to diminish. During last period I was like every other student, anxiously waiting for the bell to signal the end of the school day. When my pleads were answered, I packed the necessary book into my bag and left the rest in my locker, expertly avoiding any more social encounters. Quickly, I made my way to the waiting open car door of my father's car, ignoring Allison's beckoning me t.wards the small group of friends.

"How was your first day, darling?" My father spoke up breaking my attention from the scenery.

"Like any other first day I've had." I smiled. "The towns might change but school is always the same."

Finally at home, we were greeted with the sight of my mother cooking; people were coming over.

"(Y/N), honey, Chris, Victoria, and Allison are coming over tonight. So, go do a quick workout and come back to get ready." I nodded and ran to my room to change into workout clothes.

My routine would normally consist of waking up, working out, go to school for a dreading eight hours, come back home, workout again, do my homework, eat, and go to sleep. I lead a very monotonous life and it had been this way since I could remember. One of my earliest memories was of my father teaching me archery alongside Allison, a great distraction to our always disrupted home life. As I got older, my father started training me in boxing and knife maneuvering. How would these skills help me in life were still a mystery but I felt safe knowing them.

I got changed and decided to take Brody out with me on a quick jog through the woods. "Hey, boy, ready to go?"

He jumped on me which I took as a yes and started for the woods. We ran down the same trail I had been going on for the past three weeks. Mostly, I went down this track in hopes that Derek would make an appearance, and today was not the exception. As the ruins of his house came to view so did his tall figure.

"Trespassing again?"

"It doesn't count if I know the owner." During our greeting, Brody's leash slipped out of my hand and he ran to jump on Derek, leaving slobbering licks on his cheek. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it." He chuckled and helped me bring him down.

"I guess he likes you, even though he doesn't like anyone but me. Guess you're special."

"Maybe." He grinned.

Out of nowhere, I hit him in the shoulder. "What was that for?!"

"For trying to run me over with your shopping cart two days ago. It was uncalled for."

"No, it was revenge. You hit ME first. In the ankle."

"You're still on with that. Come on, sour wolf. That happened three weeks ago, and it was an accident."

"Whatever. Come on, I'll give you a ride home. It's getting kind of dark." This had also become part of my routine. After "bumping" into Derek he would offer to drop me off at my house, claiming it was for security.

"Okay, we're here. By the way, the offer to show you around town is still up. Just call me whenever." He said as he stopped the car in front of my house.

"Alright, will do, and thanks for the ride, Derek. I'd invite you in, but my family is coming over."

"No worries, maybe another time."

"It's a date. Anyways, thanks again. See you when I see you."

"Okay, goodnight."

"Night." He waited until I entered the house and drove away.

"Munchkin, is that you?" My father screamed from the kitchen.

"Yeah!" I screamed back.

"Okay, well, go take a shower and get ready your uncle will get here soon."

I hurried up the stairs and hopped in the shower letting the hot water stream down my body calming any aching muscle that was palpitating. In my room, I searched through my closet for an acceptable family dinner outfit, deciding a grey sweater and black jeans would be enough. I braided my hair out of my face and went downstairs to help my mother set the table.

After we put the last plate the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it!" I ran to the door and was greeted by my uncle. "Uncle Chris!" I jumped and he hugged me. There was no doubt that he was my favorite family member, his presence was always welcoming. His wife on the other hand was as cold as the winters we spent in New York. She was nice but absolutely scary. "Hi, Aunt Victoria."

"Hello, (Y/N)." I hugged her and said hi to Allison.

"Come in, guys." They walked in and I closed the door behind them.

"So, (Y/N), how have you been?" Uncle Chris asked while stuffing his mouth with mom's famous lasagna.

"I've been good. I mean, moving all the time takes a toll on you at first, but I got used to it. It's easy now to pack it all up once the school year ends."

"Oh, honey, that must be so hard on you," Victoria said. I could not read her tone, her words spoke in sympathetic notes with an underlying melody of sarcasm.  Not knowing what to answer, I bit my lip and nodded.

The whole evening was spent on us catching up and eating, laughing, playing games, but the good times came to an end when the clock hit 9:00 pm. It was stupid to set a curfew, but my mom usually had everyone in bed at this time, 10:30 as of late.

"You better come around the house more often." Uncle Chris demanded and hugged me.

"Yes, sir." I raised my hand to my eyebrow and saluted, as did he.

"Let's go, Chris. And thank you for the lovely dinner, Rebecca," Victoria said linking arms with my uncle and smiling at mom.

"No problem. Come by any time." They talked for a bit more and after they left, I went upstairs to change for bed.

"Momma, I'm gonna go to sleep."

"Okay, honey. Goodnight." I went upstairs, brushed my teeth, and put my hair in a ponytail.

Before bed, I made sure everything I would need for the next day was packed into my bag and made sure my alarm was set. I pulled all the throw pillows from my bed and set them aside, then making my way to the window to draw the curtains. Something caught my attention in the backyard, though. My eyes squinted trying to make out the figure in front of me. Blinking the confusion away, I made a double-take and looked back at an empty yard. I laughed to myself as I crept into bed. Why would Derek be in my backyard?

Next ->

[randomshyperson]

hiii hope you’re doing well and drinking enough water!!! I’ve got an idea for high school nerdy wanda that I wanna share with you and you feel free to write it or not! so wanda is nerdy, shy and adorable and reader is popular and actually nice and has always been intrigued by wanda. I was listening to drivers license by olivia rodrigo when this idea came to me so, reader probably gives wanda a ride and it becomes their thing and reader is always saying wanda should get her driver’s license and they eventually get together and it’s all cute and fluffy but there’s this blonde girl (for the sake of the song lol) who’s obsessed with reader and always makes wanda nervous and jealous. so when said girl finds out about reader and wanda (let’s just consider this girl the typical most popular girl in school trope) she threatens reader and makes reader break up with wanda and get with her. you decide what the threat would be. maybe something really personal about reader or wanda’s past that would haunt them if people were to find out. but then reader and wanda get back together in the end of course. sorry it’s so long and again you don’t have to write this!!

Hi, honey, is everything alright? I hope so! I had to listen to Drivers Licence One Hour Version to write this, but I liked it haha This song is great for dramatizing a romance I never experienced, and I hope you'll be pleased! By the way, i kept the original drama of the singers (the whole guy was older and stuff)

Happy reading.

Drivers License - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Warnings: 13+, Language, mentions of abuse/sexual harassment, bullying, underage kissing.

Words: 2.642K // Read on AO3 too 

You met Wanda Maximoff in your senior year of high school. 

It was raining heavily, and you had stayed late at school to take care of your responsibilities as leader of the athletic team. You figured that at that time there would only be you and the janitor in school, but as you were leaving towards the parking lot, you bumped into someone.

- Damn it, I'm sorry! - you said, looking at the person. It was a girl about your age, but you had never seen her before. She looked away from you immediately, as she bent down to pick up the books you dropped. - Hey, let me help you with that.

You bent down and helped her pick up the books, and when you stood up, you handed them to her with a smile.

- Thank you. - She spoke softly without looking at you. Maybe she was shy, you thought. 

And then you heard thunder and let out an exclamation, an idea occurring to you.

- Hey, are you driving? - you asked gently, and the girl frowned, but denied it with her head. - I can give you a ride, because of the rain.

- Oh, that's okay. No need. - She denied, blushing. You let out a little giggle when a louder thunderclap sounded.

- It's no bother, really. - You said, smiling. - Where do you live?

- On the Sokovia complex.

- Wow, you see? We are practically neighbors. - You reply cheerfully. - I live two streets away from your house.

The girl nods, looking away. You put your hand in your pocket.

- All right then. - She finally agrees, and you smile as you open the door to the parking lot, and walk out in front with her walking slightly behind.

You walk in silence to your car, but when you start the vehicle, you want to talk to her.

- So, what's your name? - you ask gently as you drive in reverse to leave the parking lot.

- Wanda. - She answers in a small voice looking out of the window. - Wanda Maximoff.

- I've never seen you before, Wanda. - You comment, and then you are outside, and the rain makes a loud noise against the car. 

- I'm a first-year. - She says and you let out a sigh of understanding. That' s why you didn't know her, she was a freshman. - But I know you.

You let out a surprised little laugh.

- Oh yeah?

- Everybody knows.

- Is it bad?

She shrugs, smiling slightly. You think you already like her. You then turn on the radio, letting some pop song play softly, and then you start tapping your fingers on the steering wheel to the rhythm of the song. 

- Since you are a first-year, you must not have a driver's license yet, right? - You comment, and Wanda denies it with a grumble.

- I'm only 15. - she says. You stop at a traffic light.

- Why were you in school until now? - you ask curiously.

- It's the best time to be in the library. - She answers, looking at you briefly. 

You are silent again, and then you arrive in the area of the Sokovia residences.

- Hey, Wanda. - You call out to her before she opens the door. - I can drive you to school if you want. - And seeing her surprised expression, you quickly add with amusement. - Just until you get your license.

Wanda smiles, and nods in agreement before leaving. 

It took 160 rides for you to realize that you were in love with Wanda Maximoff. And you thought it was not surprising at all.

From the first time you saw her, you thought she was impressive. And then every day of the week, you had a vision of her half-asleep leaving the house, and greeting you with a smile. You talked about everything, from the most superficial and random things, to your insecurities and fears. You shared your breakfast, and sang songs together. But then you'd get to school, and your friends would surround you, and Wanda would disappear. You only got her back on the way out, when you gave her a ride home.

You didn't say anything about it, and neither did Wanda. It was as if your car was the safe space in your relationship. And you were completely terrified of messing it up.

And then it rained again, but this time your car was in the outside parking lot. You ran to the car through the rain, and when you finally took cover you were soaked. You started laughing the next second, and when you looked at Wanda, you couldn't control yourself. 

- I want to kiss you. - You breathlessly confessed when you stopped laughing, Wanda blinked in surprise, her face red. - Is that all right?

It takes a moment, but she nods. Then you move on the seat toward her, and she meets you halfway. When your mouths meet, you both sigh. It's sweet and tender, and you part, leaving your foreheads together.

- Why did you stop? - She whispered with her eyes closed, making you gasp. And then you kissed her again, this time until the windows were fogged up.

Unfortunately things don't get amazing after that. The routine comes back to you, and then you are overwhelmed with end-of-year tasks. Even though you are completely in love with Wanda, and steal kisses between one ride and the next, you see the distance between you grow. Maybe it's the way you two act like you didn't know each other at school, or how Wanda won't tell you what your friend Sharon Carter was talking to her about the other day at school, or maybe it's the way you don't tell her that Tony Stark made fun of you for weird freshman.

And then things get much worse when you turn eighteen, because your friends start mocking you with the law on their side. And it's hard to concentrate on the good memories with Wanda while they tease and mock, and you want to go back to the car, but you have to smile and nod politely, because that's what they expect of you, and soon you're graduating.

You receive your acceptance letters from the universities, and you want to tell Wanda, but she is traveling with her family, and you are bored. And so you agree to celebrate with your friends who also got their letters, at some bar in town. When you start drinking, it's easy to dance and laugh all night, and when they tease you again, you want to leave, but there is a gentle touch on your shoulder. Sharon hugs you, and tells you that everything will be all right, that you should go out with someone who looks more like you, who is compatible, and when she says lots of sweet words, you want to remember smiles and stolen glances at school and gentle touches in your car, but your head is spinning and you accept her kissing you.

When you wake up, you are wearing no clothes, and there is a hand on your waist. You want to throw up, because even though you and Wanda never made a commitment, you feel the betrayal burning in your bones.

You want to yell at Sharon and tell her to leave, but then she's threatening you, with pictures you don't even remember taking. And when you get back to school, she tells everyone that you two are dating, and you wait for Wanda in the parking lot, but she doesn't show up.

You cry at your graduation, and not from happiness. And when the ceremony is over, you get in your car and drive one last time to Wanda's house, and you cry against the steering wheel. You are 18 now, with a diploma and a girlfriend. This is over, and you have to move on.

In college you meet someone who helps you, her name is Shuri, and after you have spent the whole first year being completely miserable, you have a literature assignment together. When you are going over the details of the presentation, at the third coffee meeting, you cry when you tell her about the photos.

- My girlfriend is blackmailing me. - You whisper, and she looks surprised for a moment, but then she hugs you, and assures you that she will help you.

There are police for a while, and then courts and court orders, and then therapy. You also make new friends now, good friends who don't judge or make fun of you. And then you pay attention in class again, and agree to join the track team. 

You try not to think that there is only one thing missing in your life, because you have no right to disappear and go back to her life, but you can't help it missing her.

But you swallow your feelings, and try to pay attention to the future.

You come home in the fall, and your past comes back to you. You don't think you've ever talked much to your brother about school, but then you find yourself asking. And as he talks, you ask about Wanda.

- Wow, I remember her. - He says. - That girl you used to drive around with, right? - he asks and you nod. - I never understood why Sharon was so mean to her, but I guess it all makes sense now.

You blink in confusion.

- What do you mean?

- I thought you knew that story. - He remarked nonchalantly while you were in the kitchen, he was looking for cookies. - She used to say such bad things to Wanda, as if she was superior to her, you know? I think she acted completely different around you.

Your heart is racing. Confused and angry.

- Why didn't anyone ever tell me this? - You complain and your brother frowns.

- Look, it wasn't anyone's problem. 

- It was my problem. - You retort. - I would have interfered, I liked Wanda!

Your brother is surprised by your outburst, but says no more. You drag your feet out of the kitchen.

You want to scream in anger, or punch Sharon in the face, but it's not mature and there's a court order. So you throw yourself on the bed, sinking your face into the pillow. When you fall asleep, you dream of Wanda.

On your last day at home, you know you shouldn't, but you drive to her house. You think your heart is going to burst out of your chest, but you swallow your nervousness and get out of the car. Wanda is on the porch, with her brother, and she looks surprised to see you. You assume that she didn't want to see you, but when she is close enough, she hugs you around the waist, putting her face into your chest. Your body instantly relaxes. You don't know if you're blushing from the hug, or from her brother's gaze on you, maybe a little of both, you think as you hug her back.

When you two are left alone on her veranda, you apologize for long minutes, because you're just sorry you lost her. But Wanda smiles, and holds your hand. And you are silent for a while, swinging your feet on the rocking chair. And then Wanda giggles.

- I got my driver's license. - She comments, and you let out a surprised and happy exclamation. 

- Let's drive somewhere now. - you say excitedly. Wanda laughs.

- Where?

- Anywhere. - You answer already getting up, pulling her by the hand.

While you are in the car, she tells you that she is going to a university in the south, forty minutes away from yours, and you can't hide your excitement. And then you are turning on the radio and singing along with Wanda loudly as she drives down a highway.

When she drops you off, you exchange numbers, and you know that this time you're not going to let her get away.

You are busy with college. Very busy. But this time, there are messages and video calls from Wanda almost every day. And then she's in college, and she's just as busy as you are. And you start missing her a lot, and your friends comment that you should tell her how you feel.

So you're driving to her dorm, but when you get out of the car, she's arriving, distracted with some books.

You hug her from behind, lifting her slightly in the air, she is startled at first, but as soon as she realizes it's you, she laughs. She turns around quickly, hugging you by the neck, the books are pressed against you, but you don't mind.

- What are you doing here? - she asks with a smile. You think she looks beautiful.

- I miss you. - You say, making her blush. - Can we go somewhere?

Wanda thinks for a moment, but smiles.

- Sure, I just need to leave some notes with my roommate. - She says. - You can visit my dorm.

You nod, escorting her into the dormitory. When you walk in you try not to get too excited. Everything is so organized, even for a college dorm.

Wanda's roommate is not here, so she just leaves her notes on the desk while you admire her polaroid collection.

- Where did you take this one? - you ask, pointing to a photo where Wanda was wearing a sailor costume.

She walked from the table to you, and let her chin rest on your shoulder. 

- At Sam Wilson's birthday party last year. - She answered, looking at the picture. 

- You look nice. - You commented, letting your gaze wander to the other pictures. Then Wanda's hands encircle your waist, in an embrace, and you bite the smile from your lips. - And this one?

You point to a photo where she is with Pietro.

- Halloween. - She answers after a moment. - I think we were on the street outside the house. - You murmur in agreement, looking at the photos, and then Wanda is moving her face. - You smell good.

- Thank you. - You comment, ignoring the fast beating of your heart. And then your gaze catches an interesting photo. - Ulala.

Wanda looks at the photo you are reaching for with your hand, and lets out a sigh, hiding her face behind your back as she laughs.

- Wanda Maximoff in a bikini, world. - You playfully try to look at her, but she just lets go of the hug, hiding her reddened face in her hands.

You raise your hands to her belly, tickling her until she pulls her hands away from her face. And while you're laughing, Wanda tries to push you away, but you hold onto her waist, and you both end up falling onto her bed. 

Your laughter slowly dies down, and you realize that Wanda is on top of you, your faces close together, and you swallow dry.

- I want to kiss you. - She confesses with reddened cheeks. - Is that okay?

You sigh and smile.

- Of course.

She smiles before bringing your lips together. It's as good as you remember, and then you're kissing until you're breathless, and Wanda sits on your lap at some point, and when your hands are on her waist and your fingers are through the fabric, you remember:

- I thought we were leaving. - You play out of breath.

- You're not going anywhere. - She replies with a smile and her lips swollen, before kissing you again.

Many dates happen after that, and two weeks later, you come back late from one of these, and you were planning something beautiful and impressive, but Wanda is smiling as she says goodbye and the words just slip out:

- Will you be my girlfriend?

Wanda blinks in surprise, taking her hand off the doorknob.  And then she smiles, and advances against you, kissing you on the mouth.

-Of course, you idiot. - She says against your lips, kissing you again.

And you are smiling, and kissing. And you don't want to let her out of the car, but you do, knowing that she would come back.

[angryschnauzer]

Just What I Need - Part 2

Summary; Working in a coffee shop you meet all sorts of people, but one customer in particular is always friendly, a local Detective from the nearby precinct. When one night he orders through a delivery service rather than in store, you get more than a tip when you make the delivery.

Part 1

Fandom; Nomis (Night Hunter) Movie, Henry Cavill

Pairing: Detective Walter Marshall x Female Reader (no race or size specified)

Trope: Coffee Shop Meet Cute

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Flirting, unprotected sex, Vaginal Sex.

I do not operate a tag list but instead please pop over and follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and put that blog onto notifications, then you’ll get an alert every time i post a new story. My Masterlist got too long and tumblr ate it, so all my past stories can also be found on my AO3, link HERE

I don’t plan on expanding this story any further at this time.

Part 2

Walter pushed the bike through the door to his apartment, resting it against the back of the couch before looking up and realising you weren’t sat on the couch where he’d left you just a couple of minutes ago.

“The snow is really beautiful”

Turning to the sound of your voice he grinned as he pushed the door shut. You’d pulled the net curtain up and was kneeling on the other couch that sat in front of the window, your head tucked under the curtain to watch as the feathery flakes of snow fell on the outside world.

Walter’s attention however was trained on the way your ass was perfectly framed by his t-shirt where it has ridden up as you’d bent over. With your long woolen socks pulled up to your thighs he’d started to grow hard again in his soft sweats, and as if on a SWAT raid he quietly snuck across the room and got to his knees behind you. 

The first touch of his lips against your pussy were a shock, but as his large hands gripped your hips you relaxed and arched your back, widening your stance as you knelt on the chair and presented yourself to him like a bitch in heat;

“W-Walter!”

“Hmmmn”

“Someone will see!”

He pulled away for a moment, rising to his feet before kneeling on the chair behind you;

“Its the middle of a blizzard. If anyone is even outside, they aren’t going to be looking up to the fourth floor”

With his body pressed to yours he rutted into you from behind, the obscene bulge in his sweats fitting perfectly in the crease of your ass. Pulling the curtain out of the way you let it drop down to the floor before turning your head, Walter catching your lips with his own for a fierce kiss, before he moved his attention to your neck to suck at the soft skin where it met your collarbone;

“Come to bed, let me keep you warm”

Clumsily getting to your feet, there were kisses and caresses as the pair of you bumped into furniture, neither leading but both eager to get to the soft confines of his massive bed. When you finally reached your destination Walter tumbled first, falling back onto the bed;

“C’mere and sit on my face” he quietly ordered, but you just grinned and slid to your knees, your fingers curling around the waistband of his sweats and tugging them down.

“No, its my turn, Detective”

At the use of his title his dick twitched and grew harder, and as you wrapped your nimble fingers around his hardness he let out a shaky breath of anticipation. Pushing himself up so he could watch, he damn near blew his load the second your warm mouth engulfed him, your tongue working on the thick vein that ran the length of the underside, your hands keeping busy by grasping his shaft and cupping his balls. 

You didn’t hold back, hell with a dick this good it would be a crime not to. Once Walter realised you were really going for it he pulled some pillows behind his head so he could lay back and the show, a smile on his lips as he watched you force more of his length into your throat, and he couldn’t help but to lay a hand on the back of your head as he rained down praises;

“Holy fuck your mouth is fucking amazing… Yes, do that thing with your tongue again, oh OH Fuck yes, that… so fucking good… knew you’d been good that this when i watched you inhale that marshmallow cake pop you guys were doing for Halloween…”

At his last comment you had just pushed down as far as you could go when your immediate response was to laugh, as you remembered him walking in just as you were attempting to win a bet with your colleague that you could fit the whole thing of four large marshmallows decorated as pumpkins into your mouth at once, and had managed it just as Walter had walked into the coffee shop.

Pulling off of him you coughed and spluttered, a large hand coming down on your back to pat it before you were pulled up onto the bed and onto his chest;

“You’re fucking adorable, you know that?”

“You’re only saying that ‘cos i can deep throat you”

“True, but you do it adorably. Now come and sit on my face so i can hear some adorable squeals…”

He pulled the pillows away and you straddled his head, his massive hands immediately pressing to your ass and pulling you down onto his waiting mouth, his tongue eager to burrow between your lips. Leaning forwards you wrapped your hand around his dick and took him back into your mouth, the grunts from between your thighs telling you he hadn’t been expecting it but it wasn’t an unwelcome development. 

It was now a race, who could get the other to cum first, and as good as Walter was at eating pussy, you were determined to get him to cum before you did. Taking him as deep as you could you swallowed around him, internally smiling to yourself as you heard whimpers from between your thighs as your throat constricted around him. As your hands worked on the rest of his shaft you were a woman on a mission, and when you finally felt that tell-tale tremble you pulled back just a little so he could release into your mouth without suffocating you. His shaft swelled and his hot salty seed flooded your mouth, swallowing around him as he filled it again before finally with a shudder finishing. Lifting your mouth and ass at the same time, you smiled at the string of quiet expletives coming from his lips, moving until you were laying beside him, your head on his chest and his arm naturally around your shoulders;

“You are a devil”

“Yes Detective” you grinned, your smile widening as he rolled you onto your back and kissed you, his hand pushing between your legs and he slid two thick fingers into your soaked hole.

“I just wanted to eat that pussy, and there you go distracting me with your amazing mouth”

You wanted to reply, but his thumb had found your clit and a third finger had slid in alongside the first two, Walter playing your body like a musician played well tuned instrument. His mouth found your breasts and he took one peaked nipple into his mouth, his beard brushing against the soft skin as his tongue worked over the hardened bud. He curled his fingers within you and found that delicious spongy spot, rubbing against it with the pad of his finger, his lips curled into a smile when he felt you getting closer and closer to your orgasm. Pressing kisses to your chest he worked up to your neck, his lips brushing against your ear;

“You gonna cum for me? Can feel you squeezing my fingers, feel so fucking good, gonna soak my hand? Such a pretty little pussy, taking three fingers so well…”

With a scream you came, your body shaking and he immediately kissed you to swallow your cries of pleasure, his hand stilling between your legs before he carefully and gently pulled his fingers out. Tracing a pattern up your stomach with your juices he finally brought them to his mouth and you watched as he licked each one clean as if it was frosting on a cupcake, before leaning forwards and kissing you again. 

It was late and in the glow after your orgasm you could feel your eyelids dropping, and with a strong arm draped over your waist Walter pulled your back flush with his chest as the both of you soon fell asleep, the world outside being blanketed in a soft quilt of snow.

-

Walter lay in bed, one handedly scrolling through his phone, the other hand wrapped around your shoulders where you slept soundly curled up to his side. Apart from a trip to the bathroom around 6am, it was the longest he’d spent in bed for months, even years, and he wasn’t minding it one single bit.

At some point in the night you’d stripped yourself of his loaned t-shirt and your long socks, and when he’d returned from the bathroom he’d seen your ass peeking out from the duvet, and as much as he’d have loved to give it a squeeze, he settled for a few seconds of gratuitous staring before he climbed back into bed beside you sporting a semi.

You stirred beside him, a smile forming on your lips as he watched you stretch and feel your muscles protest after the nights activities. Setting his phone down on the nightstand he ran a fingertip down your cheek, before pressing a kiss to your lips as you woke;

“Mmmm good Morning Detective”

“How is my little muffin this morning?”

Stretching again you winced;

“Sore… but a good sore…” you finally opened your eyes and smiled at him, before your gaze went wide when you saw how light it was, sitting bolt upright in bed; “What time is it?”

Walter glanced at the clock on his phone;

“Almost Nine”

You lept out of bed;

“FUCK… i’m late…”

In a panic you ran around the room trying to find your clothing, pulling your skirt and socks on, before finding your bra hanging from a set of drawers. Pulling at the duvet you scanned the floor;

“Walter, where are my panties?”

“Muffin…. Stop…”

“WALTER, i’m going to be LATE!”

“Sweetie…”

“ARUGH! I cannot go commando all day in a skirt!”

“Oh i don’t know, i like the sound of that…”

You turned and glared at him, but before you could say anything he was out of bed and standing in front of you, his hands resting on your arms;

“Check your phone… the blizzard has shut down half of downtown, the coffee shop’s facebook page said they were closed today around 7am this morning”

You visibly relaxed in his arms, nodding before you quickly ran to the other room and pulled your phone from your coat pocket, smiling when you saw a message from your boss that the shop would be closed due to the snow.

A large pair of arms wrapped around your waist, and you leaned back into Walters embrace;

“You have any idea how horny it makes me knowing you aren’t wearing panties under that skirt?”

Pushing your ass back against him you could feel he’d put sweatpants on, but his meaty dick was growing impressively hard against you;

“I think i can feel how horny you are”

He spun you and lifted you into his arms, walking you back until he could rest your ass on the counter. His lips were on yours as he one handedly pulled his sweats down and you felt the meaty slap of his erection against your inner thigh. Widening your stance you wrapped your hand around him as you pulled him to your core, gasping as his hot flesh speared you. You gasped into his mouth, sharing breaths as he filled you, his forehead pressed to yours. With the tiniest thrusts of his hips he skillfully brought you to orgasm, fucking you straight through it as he angled his hips to drive you crazy again.

Your gaze fell to his naked chest and stomach, watching as his muscles moved as if they were fluid, waves of power rolling as he used the power stored in them to push deep inside you. Snaking a hand between your bodies he rubbed quickly at your clit, his breaths growing short as his thrusts became erratic, pushing you to meet your peaks together so he could relish the feel of your walls gripping him so tight as they milked him of his seed.

With one final thrust you were cuming hard, Walter throwing his head back as he came inside you as you felt him swell and release another load in your waiting womb.

-

You’d showered alongside Walter after your kitchen escapades, hand and lips exploring each others bodies, but it didn’t go any further than fondling, both of your bodies and minds an equal mix of sore and sated. 

Eventually you’d managed to find all your clothing with the exception of your panties, but you had eventually given up on that idea and just accepted you’d have to head home commando much to Walter’s amusement;

“Not to worry, the seats in my truck are heated” he said with a grin as he poured you a cup of coffee and set it onto the counter; “I have to go check on my Daughter later, but can drop you off on the way if you like?”

“Thanks” you smiled before pausing; “You have a daughter?”

Walter let out a quiet laugh;

“Yeah; Faye... sixteen years old and full of attitude. She’s amazing. Lives with her Mother - my ex and the new husband”

“Nice… its nice you’re still on good terms”

“Yeah. So what about you?”

“Me? Oh, no kids. Not really any ex’s to talk of… there hasn’t been anyone important since i moved here eighteen months ago”

“Important… so how would one become important?” he smiled and inched closer to you

“Dinner would always be a start.... And something that isn’t delivered by me is even better…”

“Out or homecooked?”

“You cook?” you laughed as he feighed shock

“Yes, i just don’t always have time to go shopping for groceries…” he wrapped his arms around your waist; “So can i get your number so we can arrange dinner?”

“You sure can”

-

Two Weeks Later

Cleaning the milk steamer you glared at it as it hissed out hot water, not helping your mood. In fact the mood had been steadily growing over the last ten days.

Walter had shovelled the snow from around his truck and loaded your bike into the back, before carefully driving you home after your night at his place. A heated kiss on your doorstep had only ended when your roommate had opened the door to take the trash out and had interrupted the two of you. You’d swapped numbers and he’d said goodbye, and that afternoon you’d gotten a facebook friend request from him. Three days and nights of messages and chatting had ended with a short ‘new case, speak soon x’ from Walter.

And then nothing. You’d tried not to be offended, you’d spent more hours than you’d like to admit trawling through his sparse facebook profile, seeing that all 26 of his friends were either colleagues or family; and you’d seen his daughter Faye’s picture too. She had his dark curly hair and bright eyes.

Trying not to read too much into it, he was a Detective after all and it could be all manner of things, but what if he was hurt? Or worse? Or… he was just ignoring you? But why would he have added you on social media? You’d spent far too many hours overthinking the whole thing, far too many nights losing sleep.

The sight of a customer standing at the counter drew your attention away from the milk steamer, instead wiping your hands on the cloth that hung from your apron before greeting them with a smile;

“Hey, what can i get for you today?”

“Could i get a non-fat soy latte, with two pumps of hazelnut sugar free syrup?”

“Sure thing, anything else?” you asked as you scribbled her order on the side of the paper cup

“That’s it, thanks”

The young girl went back to looking at her phone as you rang up her order, swiping it over the Apple Pay reader before walking to the end of the counter to the pick up station, still absorbed in her phone.

You were on auto pilot, working through the drink before setting it on the counter;

“Order for Faye”

She looked at you, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth and you realised what you’d said;

“Shit”

“Yeah… i never gave you my name”

“Fuck”

“Dad says that… a lot”

You were thankful the coffee shop wasn’t busy and there were no other customers waiting to be served as you stumbled on your words;

“I’m so sorry… i’m… friends, with your Dad”

“Yeah i know”

“We… kinda went on a date…”

“Yeah… I know”

“And he added me on facebook… and then hasn’t called. I’m sorry, i just recognised you from your photos of the two of you he has…”

“I. Know.” she said with a grin; “Firstly, you liked one of the photos i was tagged in, so i got the notification. Secondly, i follow you on instagram”

“You do?” you said, shocked.

“Yeah. This shop is on my way to school, i saw the chalk art you did on the windows a few months back and followed you ever since”

“Oh”

“And Dad kept talking about this one coffee shop girl that he liked, and i’m glad he finally asked you out”

Your mood suddenly deflated;

“Yeah, well we had… coffee… and then urh… well he ghosted me”

“No, he’s on a case… he’s undercover”

“Oh!”

Faye leaned forwards on the counter;

“He really likes you. He told me. And the case, whatever that is, i only know because he was meant to be taking me to visit a college last weekend and he had one of his work colleagues get a message to my Mom… he isn’t ghosting you”

You let out a deep breath, the tension slipping away from your body and mind;

“Thanks Faye”

She took her drink a smiled, pushing her ear-bud back in as she started towards the door before calling your name;

“It was good to finally meet you”

Nodding you smiled; “You too Faye… take care”

-

That night you were settled into your comfiest pyjamas, enjoying the fact you had the apartment couch and TV all to yourself, your roommates catching up on work in their rooms or simply sleeping, so you were surprised when there was a knock at the door. Setting the bowl of popcorn down you called out to ask if anyone had ordered takeout, but with negative answers you frowned before checking the peephole… and letting out a gasp before flinging the door open;

“Walter!”

Standing in the hallway was your favourite detective; SWAT vest still on, the metallic tang of gunshot residue hanging in the air from his sweater and hair. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously;

“Hey Muffin…”

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pressed your lips to his, the kiss deepening before he finally pulled back just enough to speak;

“Wow… now that’s a warm welcome…” the smile on his face growing; “Seeing as i kinda left you on read without any explanation…”

“Yeah, well Faye came by the coffee shop today and explained…”

“How do you know…?”

“I recognised her from your photos on facebook, and she follows me on instagram, and…” you walked fingers up his chest; “And she told me she had encouraged you to ask me out”

He threw his head back and laughed;

“Kids, they aren’t great at keeping secrets”

Before you could say anything else, one of your roommates called out;

“Hey either take the delivery or refuse it, you’re letting all the heat out of the apartment!” followed by the slam of their bedroom door. Walter turned his attention back to you;

“Well, are you going to accept the delivery or refuse it?”

Taking his hand you pulled him into the apartment;

“I’ll accept it… but don’t expect a tip, the order updates were awful”

“Oh don’t you worry about a tip, i’ll make sure you leave a five star review after what i deliver tonight”

With a slam of the door it was the start of a very sleepless night… for you AND your roommates, but for wildly different reasons.

[ruewrites]

Hii! so i really love Dialuci and i wanted to request a fic about them. I like the 5 things + 1 thing trope but i saw that u already have a fic like that, so if you dont wanna use i understand, i just want a cute Dialuci fic bc they are adorable 💖

5 Times Diavolo Felt a Little Less Alone

AO3

Ship: Diavolo/Lucifer

Word Count: 2005

Warnings: None

A/N: Hi Anon! I’m always down for 5+1 requests! I hope you like this! I’m still getting used to writing for this ship, but I had fun!

1

Diavolo’s fingers danced along the castle walls as he gazed at the fallen Morning Star. He was more than the prince could ever wish for, to ever hope for, and he was standing right there. Well, sitting. He’d met Lucifer before, but he’d never seen him this worn. It was understandable, but still.

Gripping his nerves, Diavolo decided to approach him once more. Lucifer’s eyes swept up towards the movement and the Prince suddenly was all too aware of his heart pounding away in his chest. 

“May I take this seat?” he asked.

Lucifer was silent for a moment, then he nodded, “I suppose you can.”

He was a bit more eager than he’d like to admit at the ‘okay’. He wanted to turn the Devildom into a home for Lucifer and his brothers, to make them all feel comfortable. He wanted them to want to stay. 

Lucifer regarded him oddly, almost as if he couldn’t make out Diavolo’s intentions. Which was fair by all means. Perhaps he wasn’t setting the most appropriate of moods, but he found himself giddy at the mere thought of sitting close to the Morning Star. Even if the circumstances that brought them together once more were grim, he was still happy that he got to see him again. 

“Can I get you some tea?”

He wasn’t sure if he wanted something to calm Lucifer or his own nerves. He’d have Barbatos bring every type out that he could find. He wanted to give Lucifer the widest variety of options that he could. He wanted to give Lucifer anything that he could.

“I suppose that would be nice,” Lucifer seemed hesitant. It was understandable of course, but Diavolo was already summoning Barbatos. He was going to make the Devildom home for Lucifer. 

***

2

Diavolo loved parties. They filled the castle up with people and laughter and music. Things Diavolo wished there had been more of as he was growing up. Even so, sometimes the parties still felt lonely. Others wouldn’t address him the same way they addressed each other. It made sense, he was the Devildom’s prince. They had to treat him with respect. 

He could act like one of them.

But he couldn’t be one of them.

His fingers tightened around his glass. 

“Lord Diavolo, are you quite alright?” Lucifer was staring at him. Lucifer’s attention was on him. 

He forced a laugh and put his hand on his shoulder, “Of course! Why would I be anything other than okay?

Lucifer’s brow furrowed and his lip twitched. He didn’t believe a word that had just come out of Diavolo’s mouth. Lucifer was the eldest of his brothers and the one that kept them in line, he knew when he was being lied to.

But before he could get a word out, Diavolo was already spewing more words at him. “I mean, just look at everyone out there having a grand time! There’s nothing to be disappointed about when there’s so many smiling faces,” he said, “In fact, shouldn’t you be out there enjoying yourself too?”

Getting Diavolo to try to go back to their previous discussion would be like taking Cerberus to the vet. So Lucifer played along, for now.

“I don’t believe I will, I have a perfect vantage point of my brothers from here.”

“Vantage-?”

Diavolo glanced out to where Lucifer was nodding. The rest of the six were all in perfect view with a slight turn of the head. He shouldn’t be surprised, Lucifer always had to make sure his brothers were on his best behavior. Well, Diavolo didn’t necessarily think that Lucifer had to per say, it was something he just did. 

“So if it’s quite alright with you, I think I’m content on staying right here.”

For the first time that night, Diavolo felt himself relax and offer a genuine smile, “Of course.”

***

3

He knew it was late, but come on. Diavolo tapped the back of his D.D.D. restlessly as he listened to the line ring. Sure he could send a text, but he just wanted to hear someone else’s voice for a moment. Just a moment. Then he would be content.

He was about to hang up and redial again when a tired voice came  up on the other end of the line. 

“Diavolo? Do you have any idea what time it is?” 

Part of him felt bad when he heard Lucifer yawn on the other end of the line, but his heart also leapt at the sound of his voice. Lucifer had a strange affect on him, and Diavolo was addicted to the sensation. It filled a void that rested deep within him, and he didn’t want that space to ever be vacant again. 

“Ah, I apologize Lucifer. I just had something I wanted to tell you,” he stopped. Well, that phrase wasn’t completely a lie. He was sorry, but he didn’t have anything to say. “But it all seems to be slipping my mind right now.”

Silence flooded the other end of the line. A sigh entered his ear. “Diavolo- Send me a text when you remember then. You can always tell me to-”

“Wait.”

He could feel Lucifer hesitate. He could practically see the way his eyebrow raised, how his arms would fold if he wasn’t holding his D.D.D.  He could feel the way he analyzed him, looking for the smallest bit of truth, the tiniest give away in his being. His words died at his lips, his normal forms of begging and pleading refused to come out. 

He didn’t want to be alone.

Not right now.

Not ever.

“Please don’t go.”

His voice came out so small. It didn’t fit him. Normally his presence was powerful and captivating, but not he felt like the smallest breeze could blow him away. The ticking of his clock started to flood his mind, drawing out any other possible thought he could have had. 

Time stretched out in odd ways Diavolo couldn’t comprehend, and there was only one thing that brought him back.

“Alright, alright. I’ll stay on the line, just don’t mind if you hear snoring. Now, what do you want to tell me?”

***

4

“Oh Lucifer! Look at this!”

Humans had such odd little things, but they were also incredibly dear. Who would have thought about making tiny clothes for animals? Adorable! 

Diavolo held up a small yellow raincoat and pushed it  into Lucifer’s face, “You should see if you can get a big one for Cerberus.

“Cerberus will be fine without,” yet his eyes lingered on the small outfit for a moment too long. A smile cracked at his lips, “I do believe I know a certain chihuahua it might fit though.”

Lucifer chuckled to himself as Diavolo continued to gaze at the little treasures that decorated the walls. “Oh they even have little rain boots! It’s a shame they don’t have anything bigger. Human dogs are just so tiny.  And they don’t have nearly enough heads. They’re still just as lovable though.”

His hands moved to the bones and a frown spread across his face, “These are hardly fit for a dog.”

“On that front I agree with you. Not bloody enough.”

“Not big enough.”

“And they hardly look study.”

“It would barely function as a toothpick!”

“And no meat either.”

“It’s sad really.”

“Trully.”

The human world was different from the Devildom, very different. Diavolo could honestly say he’d never experienced something quite like it before. Everytime he thought he had it figured out something new popped out from around the corner. What made the entire thing even more wonderful was having someone to share it with.

He peered at Lucifer from the corner of his eye. Before he knew what was happening, the warmth of Lucifer's lower back was pressed against his hand. Lucifer stiffened ever so slightly. Then his muscles relieved themselves of their tension.

The Demon Prince had someone to share his experiences with.

***

5

This was an ethereal experience. It wasn’t something he could take lightly. This was a sign of trust. This was so much bigger than him, and Diavolo wasn’t about to take it lightly. Lucifer’s naked back was to him, his blackened wings stretched out before him. Diavolo felt as if he could see every breath the Morning Star took, every heartbeat drowned out the ticking of the clock. 

“Are you sure?” Diavolo wanted to give him one last chance to back out. This was something sacred and intimate, something that he knew must have Lucifer on edge. 

Lucifer’s head nodded ever so slightly, “Just remember what I told you.”

Diavolo swore he could feel his hands shaking, anxiety curled around his stomach like a serpent the closer he came to the majestic sight before him. Then the soft silky texture brushed against his finger tips. He couldn’t help but admire them as he ran his fingers along their gradient. 

Lucifer trusted him with this.

Lucifer wanted him to do this.

He could have teared up in that moment, He promised himself that he would forever hold this specific moment close to his heart.

Of course Lucifer’s wings wouldn’t preen themselves. “Tell me if I do anything wrong.”

Perhaps he’d gotten too close to Lucifer’s ear, maybe his breath had been a little too hot, maybe he shouldn’t have gazed at Lucifer’s reddening cheeks as long as he did. But he wouldn’t change it for the world. His right hand man trusted him. A man as wonderful and beautiful and radiant and intelligent as Lucifer trusted him. Diavolo was allowed into his life.

The room was dark, quiet, and safe. 

Diavolo never wanted to share anything this intimate with anyone else.

***

+1

The first thing Diavolo registered was how warm everything around him was and the fire softly crackling against the wall. Slowly his eyes peeled open and he sat up. After taking in his surroundings, he came to realize that  he’d fallen asleep at his desk. Something quite unusual for him. He grabbed at the blanket around his shoulders as questions filled his brain.

“This is quite the role reversal isn’t it?”

Ah. Lucifer. 

Diavolo hadn’t even noticed him.

A kiss was pressed against his cheek and a cup was set down onto the table. Spices immediately filled all of Diavolo’s senses flooding every corner of his head. 

“Usually you’re the one doing things for me when I’ve been at my desk for too long, and now here we are.”

Diavolo brought the cup to his lips, enjoying the warmth against his skin, “It took so much for you to allow me to spoil you.”

“Not everyone in the world is as genuine as you Diavolo, and affection isn’t something I’ve been particularly used to.” 

Lucifer’s hands soared over the desk as he started to organize various papers and documents. Honestly, at this point Lucifer was probably almost as skilled as Barbatos when it came to organizing Diavolo’s desk. Diavolo liked watching him work, it almost reminded him of a dance. Watching Lucifer was always a wonderful time, it was a treat. Perhaps domestic was the correct word.

“I believe you’ve told  me before that there’s more comfortable places to relax than a desk.”

“Like plush chairs by the fireplace?”

“I do believe you mentioned those, yes,” Lucifer took his hand and helped him up, “Join me?”

Diavolo had gotten a taste of company all those years ago, and now he constantly lived in company. His old self would be envious of what he had now. As long as he had Lucifer he wouldn’t be lonely, he’d have warm nights and bright days. There would always be a reason to make a second cup of tea or to bring two plates to the study. His things would sit next to Lucifer’s, they could have long conversations or comforting silence, and the chair next to him would never be empty. 

Finally Diavolo had someone to share his life with.

Finally life wouldn’t be lonely anymore.

[this-is-moony-lovegood]

Nat’s Plan (Part 1/2)

Summary: When a recon mission in Lagos goes sideways, Sam and Bucky have to find a creative way to slip away from terrorist agents without causing another international incident. To do so, Bucky suggests they use one of Natasha’s old plans that helped her and Steve dodge HYDRA agents back in 2014. In other words, I can’t help my obsessive need to write about the kiss-to-hide-in-plain-sight trope for Sambucky.

Word Count: 2.9k

Link to AO3

Lagos, Nigeria - 2024

The last time Sam Wilson was in Lagos, was eight years ago in 2016. He, Steve, Nat, and Wanda were on a mission to get a bioweapon out of the hands of Brock Rumlow and his merry gang of ex-Hydra agents which should have been successful. Technically, it was successful - minus the international incident that ensued when Steve didn’t clock a bomb vest and Wanda accidentally blew up a building trying to stop the blast. Maybe semi-successful was a more appropriate word.

Regardless of Sam’s interpretation of the events, the US government and SWORD took extra time and care to warn Sam, Torres, and specifically Bucky Barnes that this trip to Lagos was meant to be incident-free. No super suits, no guns, no knives, no weapons of any kind unless absolutely necessary.

After everything with John Walker over the past few months, Sam thought it was a good idea for Captain America to not go in guns blazing. Yes, they were trying to stop a new terrorist cell, but if Sam could use this trip to gather intel that would help stop them without exposing the Nigerian people to even more threats, then that would appease the government and his conscience.

For the most part, everything had been going swimmingly. No one had recognized them, they were working incredibly well as a team, and had easily slipped inside the terrorist HQ due to Torres’ ease of hacking into the security cameras, and Bucky’s innate ability to knock people unconscious with ease. Bucky and Sam had even managed to make it through the mission without bickering (at least, not more than the usual acceptable amount).

See, everything was great. Was being the keyword, because, after five minutes of trying to hack the cell’s computer to retrieve the data they needed on their upcoming attacks, Bucky got a little too impatient and accidentally tripped an alarm.

Sam groaned and threw his head back, “You’ve got to be shitting me. You’re the ex-assassin, aren't you supposed to be the stealthy one?”

“An ex-assassin with a metal arm who used to not give a fuck about who saw him coming. I didn’t have to be stealthy as the Winter Soldier, Sam. I just took what I had to and killed anyone who got in my way.” Bucky replied, ripping the flash drive out of the PC the second the last file transferred over. Sam sighed, watching the wave of guilt washing over the soldier’s features.

“Don’t start.” He added, holding up a hand to shush the former PTSD support group leader. “This is not the time for a therapy session.”

Lying, Sam began, “I wasn’t gonna-”

“Yeah, you were. Now, let’s get outta here.” Bucky said, motioning for Sam to follow him over the door.

“Hold on, Cap, let me get the wings, and your suit. I’ll be there ASAP.” Joaquín called over their coms. Sam could hear a rustling in the background like he was tripping over items as he rushed for the wings. Sam knew he had been itching to use them but now was not the time.

“No, stay where you are.” Sam insisted, physically holding his hands out as if he could touch Joaquín. “No suits, no wings, we can handle this.”

“Are you sure about that? ‘Cause according to these cams I hacked, you two are severely outnumbered.”

“He’s got a point, Samuel,” Bucky said, reaching for his gun he had tucked in the back of his jeans. Sam reached out, holding onto Bucky’s right wrist. 

“No guns.” Sam’s eyes darted to Bucky’s metal hand inching towards his knife holster, “Or knives. Not yet.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, “then what’s the plan, Cap? Cause you know I hate to admit that the kid is right.”

“A kid that outranks you.” Annoyance flashed across Bucky’s face at Joaquín’s quip, and before he could snap back Sam immediately stepped in by saying, “Alright, Torres use those cameras and find us a route out of this building. If we get out of here first, then we can go from there.”

“On it.” Sam could hear the rapid clicking of keys against Torres’ keyboard, before he said, “Head down that hallway and take the first door on your left.”

With Joaquin’s directions, they two made their way out of the building, only having to fight a few agents (which the partners easily took care of without weapons), but unfortunately, they weren’t the only ones with access to the cameras. More agents were hot on their tails as they burst out one of the side doors. Sam and Bucky took off running, cutting through side streets until they slipped into the crowd at the marketplace.

“We’ve gotta blend in,” Bucky said, immediately stripping off his jacket as they walked, and dumping it on the back of a chair outside a small food stand. Sam couldn’t help but admire the way his flesh and metal arms flexed as the super-soldier revealed that black t-shirt that hugged his chest and biceps in the best possible way. He quickly swallowed, before averting his eyes ahead, only to catch Bucky swipe a pair of sunglasses off a merchant table.

“Woah, what are you doing?” Sam said, gripping Bucky’s army to stop him in his tracks. “You can’t just steal shit, Buck.”

“Now is not the time to lecture,” Bucky said, looking over his shoulder, to see a few agents following them, eyes scanning rapidly scanning the crowd. “We need to hide in plain sight. Dressing like the locals is our best shot to do that.”

“Find another way, besides stealing,” Sam said, taking off his black baseball cap and quickly setting it on a kid’s head that ran while chasing after his friend.

“Fine, hand me your wallet,” Bucky said, extending his metal hand. Sam rolled his eyes before stopping briefly and begrudgingly gave his wallet to the super-soldier. “Good, now take off your jacket.” Without hesitation, the captain slid out of his jacket and tossed it over to Bucky.

Sam watched as Bucky quickly ducked over to an open clothing stall, and greeted a local merchant woman in Yoruba, a smirk spreading across his face as he pointed at a few clothing items and then pointed in Sam’s direction. The woman smiled brightly looking back and forth between the two of them as Bucky handed over a few bills from the wallet along with Sam’s jacket for a short-sleeve button-up shirt with a blue geometric print, a Nigerian football polo, and two brightly colored baseball caps. Bucky said something else quickly, causing the woman to giggle while she placed one of the caps on his head and pinched his cheek.

The entire exchange probably lasted no more than thirty seconds, but Sam couldn’t help but be enthralled in the moment. First, Bucky knew Yoruba? How many languages did he learn as the Winter Soldier? Second, what exactly did he say to that woman to get her light up like a Christmas tree? What did Bucky tell her about him?

“What did you say to her?” Sam asked as Bucky approached quickly.

“I’ll tell you later,” Bucky replied, tossing the polo in Sam’s direction and placing a blue and pink cap on his own head. “Put that on.”

As they continued weaving their way through the crowd, Sam slipped the polo on over his t-shirt. The shirt was a bit snug, hugging his chest tightly. What the hell had Bucky bought him? “Looking good, Samuel,” Bucky said, giving him a once over with a glint in his eyes and a smirk playing on the corners of his mouth. He then threw the button-up over his own short-sleeve shirt (which he didn’t bother to button) and set the other cap on Sam’s head backward. “There you go, now you look like a real local.”

“You know that was one of my favorite jackets that you gave away.”

“Don’t like the shirt I just bought you? I think it suits you. Shows off all those shield throwing muscles.”

“You mean the shirt I just bought me?”

“Semantics.”

“Where are you guys?” Joaquín’s voice called over their earpieces once more.

“Blending in.” Bucky’s smile faded, as he responded. “I count six agents trying to track us. What does the bird say?”

“Redwing,” Torres began, and Bucky could sense the sass rolling off his tongue, “shows six behind you, and six approaching from the front.”

Immediately Bucky stopped them in their tracks and scanned the crowd ahead of them. Sure enough, he could make out six familiarly dressed agents scanning the crowd for them. “Fuck.” Bucky cursed, “Come on.” Before Sam could react, Bucky had grabbed his hand and pulled them into a small alley between two buildings. He had been hoping they could sneak through onto another side street, but no, the alley was a dead-end into another building. “Damnit.” Bucky dropped Sam’s hand, and Sam nearly sighed at the loss of contact.

Bucky groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, “I think it’s time for guns, Sam.”

“Do you see how many people there are out there? They will all be caught in the crossfire. Do you really want that?” Of course, Bucky didn’t want that. Sam knew - hell was there for - the nightmares Bucky experienced because of people becoming collateral damage for the Winter Soldier. He’d been there to talk Bucky through the aftermath of them when he was willing to talk and fix a cup of coffee or hot tea when he wasn’t. The pain and guilt in his eyes for something he had no control over… that look alone hurt Sam, he couldn’t even imagine how much it hurt Bucky. No, he would not allow Bucky to feel that pain any more than he already was - you know, on top of not harming the civilians. “We need an alternative plan.”

“They’ll be approaching you in about forty-five seconds, Cap. What’s the plan?”

“I have an idea,” Bucky said, looking up at Sam, a look of uncertainty across his face. “Steve told me once about one of Natasha’s plans that they used years back to slip away from Rumlow and the rest of HYDRA’s agents. It could work.”

“One of Nat’s plans? Hell, it’s got to be good. What is it?”

“Don’t know if you’ll be up for it.”

“Buck, we’ve got twelve bullets and a metal arm between the two of us, and I - and the US government - would like to avoid using any of them if possible. If Nat’s plan doesn’t require using those, I’m down. Does it?”

“No guns, no weapons of any kind actually.”

“Alright, then I’m up for it. What’s the plan?”

“Not a lot of time to explain. Really going to just have to show you.”

“Well, go on with it then.”

“Thirty seconds.”

“Do you trust me?” Bucky asked, a question directed only to Sam, sincerity in his eyes. 

Do you trust me? What kind of bullshit question is that? Sam thought. Of course, he trusted Bucky. They’d been going on missions together for months since they stopped the flag smashers and they’ve had each other’s sixes constantly since then. He'd welcomed Bucky into his home to be around his family - and practically live there. Sam Wilson trusted Bucky Barnes with his life, with his family’s lives. No questions about it. Attraction (or deep-seated feelings) aside, how could Bucky not know that by now?

“We don’t have time for this, Buck.” Sam protested, peeking around the corner of the alley to look for the approaching agents.

“I need an answer, Sam.”

“Fifteen seconds, whatever you’re going to do, hurry it up!”

Groaning, Sam said, “Fine, yes, I trust you. Now, will you just-“ Before Sam could finish scolding him, Bucky had swiftly pushed the captain back against the brick wall, and covered his lips with his own. 

Bucky had his metal hand securely on Sam’s hip, while his flesh had cupped Sam’s left cheek simultaneously holding him in place and pulling him as close to the soldier as possible. To say Sam was surprised was an understatement, but it only took him a few seconds to just let go and relax under Bucky’s touch. Bucky’s lips were wet and warm, and moved effortlessly against Sam’s. Sam wasn’t sure what compelled the super soldier to do this, but at that moment Sam didn’t care. This mission at hand and the approaching agents faded from his thoughts as he melted into the kiss he had secretly been waiting for.

Bucky’s tongue swiped across Sam’s lower lip, asking for entrance, which Sam immediately obliged, letting him deepen their kiss. As he did so, Sam roughly fisted the collar of Bucky's new button-down, tugging him forward as he tried to eliminate any distance between the two. Bucky’s flesh hand ghosted down Sam’s neck, then his left arm, and his side, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake before it settled under the hem of Sam’s shirt, before settling on his lower back. The touch sent a shiver up Sam’s spine and he let out a small moan, which Bucky easily swallowed with another kiss.

Sam couldn’t remember the last time that he had been kissed like this - so passionate, yet so gentle. In an attempt to make it a little less so, Sam let go of Bucky’s collar and snaked his hands up to the base of Bucky’s neck, and buried his hands as deeply as he could in his short dark locks, giving them a tug. The moan that followed this action, was much louder than Sam’s, and almost resembled a growl. Damn, Sam loved that sound and knew he’d do anything to make Bucky elicit that sound again, and again.

Bucky responded by kissing Sam harder than before, and pushing himself closer to him, settling his body into between Sam’s legs, as he moved to deepen the kiss once more. He gripped Sam’s hips so hard he was sure they were going to bruise, but Sam loved every second of it.

He didn’t know how long they had been like this - seconds, minutes, hours - it didn’t matter. Time had stopped the moment their lips touched, and everything else around them had faded, which is exactly why Bucky had to be the first to pull away - because Sam wouldn’t have dreamed of it.

Bucky had disconnected their lips, but both of his hands lightly rested on Sam’s hips. “Sam,” he breathed, his words barely coming out above a whisper before he swallowed hard.

Sam loosened his grip on the Sergeant’s shirt but still rested his hands against his chest. “What... was... that?” He asked, a bit dazed. He was breathing heavily and his hooded eyes lingering on Bucky’s pink, slightly swollen lips.

After a moment, Bucky responded, “Public displays of affection make people uncomfortable.” Sam hummed in response, but only because he couldn’t string any other words together. All he was thinking about was that uncomfortable was not the word that he would use to describe what just happened at all. “When I kissed you the agents only looked for a second before turning away and going right past us.” 

When did Bucky have time to look for some damn agents during that fucking unbelievable kiss (more like a make-out session if you asked Sam)? “They did?”

“Yeah.” Sam needed a minute to let the words sink in. The kiss was just a part of a plan. Nat’s plan. A kiss as a distraction/cover. Of fucking course that was a Romanoff plan. A damn good plan, but he couldn’t help but feel the sting of thinking that the kiss - that fucking amazing kiss - was supposed to be… strategic. 

For weeks he had been battling over this lingering feeling of wanting something more with Bucky than just a partnership… until this moment of crushing realization, it felt like they had possibly moved to the next step.

Then again, if it was just strategic, why was Bucky still so close to him? He hadn’t made any attempt to move away, still holding Sam against the wall - albeit, without the arousing force he had minutes before.

“Do you think they’re all gone?” Sam asked, loosening his grip just enough for his hand to rest on the sides of Bucky’s neck.

“Probably.”

“But not for certain?” Sam questioned, rubbing his thumbs along Bucky’s strong, stubble-covered jawline, and down his throat. His fingers grazed over Bucky’s pulse point, and he could easily feel the artery pounding beneath the surface.

“Would probably need some more recon to confirm that.”

“Well until then, better to be safe than sorry, right?” Sam dared, doing anything he could to get Bucky’s lips back on his. From the way, the soldier’s heart was racing Sam could only hope that maybe, just maybe, Bucky would want to kiss him again, too.

“Right,” Bucky breathed, and without hesitation, leaned forward once again to kiss Sam, only to be interrupted a minute later, by Torres’ voice in their coms calling for their attention. 

“Cap, Sarge.” This time, when Bucky pulled away he dropped his hands and took a few steps back, instantly putting a few feet between the two partners. The captain silently cursed Joaquin and his incredibly terrible timing. “I’ve got eyes on them, they’re headed back to base. You should be in the clear.”

“Okay, good,” Bucky said, a little too quickly for Sam’s liking. “We should be back at the safehouse in 20 minutes. Gotta run an alternate route just in case we’re being followed.”

“Got it,” Torres said, signing off. 

Bucky quickly removed the earpiece before shoving it deep into his pocket. He looked around the corner, scanning the crowd before motioning for Sam to follow. “Come on, it’s hot as fuck out here, and I need a shower.”

Yeah, me too. A fucking cold one, Sam thought.

[visionsofus]

Regarding Scarletvision prompts.....I’m such a sucker for the trope where one member of a couple goes apeshit and all protective/NO TOUCH when they think the other member is grievously hurt, maybe something like that with Vision instead of Wanda? With potential fluff/comfort once things are fine. Your fics are wonderful!!

anon you are totally speaking my language with this prompt!! I absolutely love this trope so much too (and was actually halfway through writing one where Wanda loses her shit). Decided to go with Vision for this because we don’t often see him lose his cool in canon. Thanks for this request!

Really hope you enjoy! 

| read on AO3 here | send me a scarlet vision prompt |

Wanda and Vision’s Mixtape Track #17: Can You Feel My Heart

One year into being a fugitive Wanda gets cornered, Vision sees the news in real time and runs to her aid. Aka Vision going apeshit when he thinks Wanda is dead.

Warnings: angst, references to guns and blood. 

“Vision, look at me,” Tony said waving a hand in front of Vision’s eyes in an attempt to get his attention. “You can’t go. You understand that right?”

Vision dipped his chin in acknowledgement even as his brain ran furious probability equations through and through again. But they came back low again, and again, and again. There was only going to be one option.  

“Yeah, I don’t know about that,” Rhodey said from his seat before the flatscreen occupying half the wall of the strategy room they had gathered in. “Tony, this looks pretty bad.”

Vision turned his head and his gaze to the lights flashing across the screen, a live news report of everything that was going down in New York.

Tony swore at the sight before them, and Vision put a pause to his maths in shock. The camera was tracking a hooded redhead through a crowded street, suddenly zooming in on the individual’s face as she turned her head to look over her shoulder.

“Wanda Maximoff has been a fugitive since 2016 when she was decreed an international criminal by the United Nations,” the news reporter said over more footage of Wanda blending in as best she could with the crowds of the city. “While Maximoff has evaded capture for over a year, authorities now believe they are close to apprehending her.”

At this Vision had to quickly let go of the chair he was sitting in, lest he split the arm rests in two.

“We go live now to New York. Please be aware the next clip could be distressing to some viewers”

Tony scrambled to turn the news off even as Vision overrode his authority, ordering the compound AI to keep the report running.

The scene changed once more, and Vision watched as the crowd parted around Wanda as she engaged in a close combat fight with a man clad all in black. Her red magic had him restrained immediately as she spun around, a clear attempt to identify her best exit route. From that moment Vision knew her chances of getting out unharmed were dismal. In those precious seconds another agent was at her back, smartly keeping his distance and instead engaging her with his taser. Wanda’s head snapped up as her body jerked, but she somehow managed to twist around and send the man flying away. All around her agents emerged from the throngs of people trying to get off the main street. They began to close in like a pack of predators.

“Vision—” Tony said reaching out, but he was too late. Vision had risen without thinking when he saw the first taser, his legs moving of their own accord so that he had phased through the wall and was flying out away from the compound in moments. He’d never pushed himself to see how fast he could really travel and now he’d need every ounce of power to get to Wanda’s side in time.

The world was a blur, even to him. The only thing that kept his worries at bay was her in his head, the closer he got the louder her cries grew. He didn’t know how she was doing it; she’d always needed direct physical contact for her voice to be this loud in his head. He reached the streets of New York with her voice as his guiding light.  

‘I need you.’ She was weaker now. ‘Hurry.’

He was close now, all she had to do was keep talking.

‘I hear you, I’m coming for you,’Vision thought back, but he couldn’t say for certain if his voice reached her.

It didn’t matter though, he had arrived.

Vision managed to slow himself down enough to land, though his feet shredded the asphalt beneath him. Bullets flew his way immediately but he sidestepped easily and used the mind stone to blast two agent’s guns to pieces in their hands. The few bystanders left at the edge of the arena now before them, realised this was their indication to leave. They were quickly replaced by what must have been a hundred soldiers.  

Another agent took a run at Vision, electrified baton raised but all it took was a well-placed foot to send him to the ground. Vision continued walking forward, reading for the next onslaught even as Wanda’s voice echoed in his head again. ‘You shouldn’t have come’.

That made him angrier. He didn’t blink as he took out the next three agents before disarming two soldiers who’d mistakenly decided to try their luck against his inhuman body and the power inlaid in his forehead. They’d had enough difficulty restraining Wanda with carefully directed electrified pulses that had her incapacitated, on her knees in pain. They tried the same, turning the pulsing weapons his way but the energy passed harmlessly over him as he phased, carefully avoiding it. He was almost at her now, if he could just get to her side and get her out of the square, away, safe, alive. It was all he could think about.

Someone must have figured that out because next thing Vision knew, all weapons were trained on Wanda.

“Stay right where you are,” a voice crackled over a loudspeaker from a waiting cop car.

Vision didn’t stop until someone took a carefully aimed warning shot and he heard Wanda cry out in pain as she was hit by something. He didn’t know if it was just another pulse or if it was something more final.

The loudspeaker crackled again. “You take one more step and we won’t be taking her into custody, she’ll be going somewhere much more final.”

Vision had been learning a lot about feelings in the last year with Wanda. He’d experienced joy, love, lust, longing. He’d discovered these were warm emotions. Now he knew what rage tasted like.

Rage was cold, so cold. Rage made him irrational. And he was about to discover what happened when he turned that rage against others.

Wanda was on the ground again, clutching at her knee. So, it had been a bullet then. Vision’s shoulders trembled with unrestrained rage as she locked eyes with him, and a bloody, desperate hand reaching out.

And Vision exploded.

Eye-witness accounts would later say it was like the street had come to life. Others would say they thought a Chitarui ship had broken free from beneath the city, that the street had risen from the ground like a huge snake. Others still, would describe the red man, who had supposedly faced down two hundred members of the defence force, as impossibly fast, the yellow energy crackling around him like lighting. They’d say it felt dangerous, it was an ancient power that made the hairs at the back of your neck rise and your gut scream at you to run in the opposite direction. Those testimonies would never reach the news because no one could believe them.

Vision himself couldn’t be entirely sure what happened. He only recalled that he acted without thinking, his movements entirely guided by the immensity of rage crackling through his blood, calling to the stone at his forehead.

The stone, which so often sat dormant at his forehead, acted without his control. The power spread throughout his body and in his anger, he raised his hands, the golden light phasing and crackling about his arms, and thrust them towards the ground with a cry.

The soldiers didn’t have time to use Wanda as bargaining tool as he did this. As the power hit the tarmac the street shuddered and cracked. It didn’t reach the surrounding buildings, restrained only to the street and those who tried to weaponize Vision’s lover. She’d already been used that way once; he’d never let her be trapped again.

With the armed forces in varying levels of disarray, some injured while others just stunned at what they had seen, Vision darted towards Wanda.

The news would later say that an unidentified man and woman arrived on the scene some point into the chaos, but they would never be able to identify the individuals. Something about their cameras conveniently cutting out just in time.

Steve and Natasha raced for Wanda, lying prone and vulnerable in the middle of the street. They’d sent her out for the regular grocery run but hadn’t anticipated her getting caught. Afterall, they’d been in New York often in the last year and had never had problems like this. Vision was quicker and again it was as though the stone acted on his emotions. It took him a moment to recognise Nat and Steve past the caps pulled low over their heads and the masks taking up lower half of their faces, but by then the stone had already done what he must have deemed necessary, at least subconsciously.

As he reached Wanda’s side, throwing himself to his knees beside her and desperately surveying her body for injuries, a barrier appeared crackling in the air around them. Whatever irrational part of him that had seen his old teammates as a risk, wasn’t going to quieten down until he was sure Wanda was safe.

Steve didn’t manage to stop in time and went flying off the barrier. Nat helped him to his feet even as they both hesitated behind the crackling ring of gold energy. Vision didn’t know how to lower the barrier, but at that moment it was the least of his concerns.

“Wanda,” he whispered lifting her carefully and drawing her into his lap. He supported her shoulders and laid a hand against her cheek even as her eyes cracked open. Her lip trembled even as she winced, trying to sit up.

“You weren’t supposed to come,” she said, coughing slightly. “I had it covered.”

“Evidently,” he murmured absentmindedly looking over her knee, glad it had only been grazed by the bullet. The rest of her was fairly scratched up from hitting the ground so many times, but she was remarkably okay. “You know I couldn’t stay away.”

“We promised,” she said, and Vision saw the tears welling in her eyes. “We promised we wouldn’t put each other at risk.”

Vision sighed, if she had the time to worry about him in her state then she really had to be okay. His relief was immeasurable as he dropped his shoulders and pressed his forehead to hers lightly, taking comfort in their shared breaths, evidence they were both still alive. He had thought the worst for a moment.

As he closed his eyes the barrier around them dropped and Steve and Nat were finally able to get to the pair.

“We need to leave, now,” Steve said with all the authority of the leader he had once been. “They’ve called for reinforcements and with the guns their bringing in, we won’t stand a chance like this.”

Vision helped Wanda stand but when she staggered on her injured knee, he immediately scooped her up.

“You understand the decision you’re making her, Vision,” Nat said as they started away from the scene they had caused. “There’s no going back now, are you staying or coming?”

“Staying is not an option anymore,” Vision said without hesitation. His decision had been made the moment he left the compound.

Wanda sighed sadly but rested her head against the crook of his neck in defeat. “You’ll lose everything.”

“As long as I never have to lose you.”

[lemonpeter]

STARKER, by Peter B. Parker

Chapter 8: Bondage

That’s only the tumblr title so it shows up in tags, the real one is on ao3 I believe

A/N: how do these chapters always end up so long? we don’t really know. peter’s going through it, yall. we’re officially halfway through this story, and we can’t wait to get the rest of it up for you to read. big things are happening!! - bloo and bri <3 💕

(also- you may have noticed, but for every chapter, the title is in reference to the au or trope it features. we aren’t just lazy and unoriginal lol...there’s a method to the madness)

Warnings: privacy invasion (Peter dealing with the fallout of the previous chapter), very nff, d*m/s*b relationship

Masterlist ao3

————

With shaking hands, Peter slid the glasses from his face. He closed his fist around them as he tried in vain to steady his breathing. He had no idea what he was supposed to do. What the fuck was he supposed to do?

Once again, it felt like the world had shifted on its axis and everything was closing in on him.

What the fuck was that? How had SHIELD infiltrated EDITH’s programming in order to allow May into his illusions? How long had she been real? If she’d been the May he’d conjured every time...

That would explain why his spidey sense had reacted so strongly that first time, when he introduced his family to Tony. He had known that something was wrong, but hadn’t been able to discern what. Because he was looking for a threat in his environment, not a digital one.

Hindsight was always fucking 20/20.

May’s presence in the illusions aside, the fact still making his skin crawl, how long had SHIELD been watching him? What had they seen? Were they always watching?

The thought made Peter feel sick to his stomach. They all knew what he was doing, they saw him with Tony. That meant that they...they *knew how he felt about* Tony. Fuck, they’d seen them having sex, something that was not meant for anyone else to even know about, much less witness. If they’d been watching at all, they had to have seen it, there was no way they hadn’t.

Tears began to sting in the teen’s eyes, and he swallowed thickly around the bile that was making its way up his throat. He felt...dirty. Violated.

Betrayed.

This was supposed to be just for him, just for him and Tony. But instead, a bunch of people he didn’t even know were watching his deepest fantasies play out with an illusion of a man who was thirty-odd years older than him. Not to mention the fact that said man had been…gone for nearly a year.

...That meant that even May had seen.

The reality of that fact made his stomach flip, shame and disgust burning in his veins.

Not only had his aunt seen him cuddled up to Tony, watched as he married the man, not holding anything back... She’d probably seen him in every vulnerable moment, any time they’d slept together, even the less explicit intimate interactions the two of them had shared. Just like the people at SHIELD had.

He wrapped one arm around his torso in a weak attempt to comfort himself and soothe his churning stomach. He hadn’t eaten anything in a few hours, but the meager food he’d had was threatening to make a reappearance. The more he thought about the reality of the situation, the more it sunk in, the worse he felt.

Guilt piled on top of shame, disgust was added onto betrayal, violation was added to the entire mix. And it all made him want to crawl out of his own skin and be sick.

He wanted to disappear.

The only consolation he had was that they wouldn’t be able to get in again. There was no way for them to influence him or have any sort of impact on the illusions. He couldn’t control anything else they might do, but EDITH had guaranteed that the new 24/7 monitoring and firewall improvement would ensure that they wouldn’t be able to get back in and mess everything up.

He couldn’t believe May had done something like that. Well. He could, but he didn’t want to. He knew that she wanted him to go back to New York, back to her and Happy, but it hadn’t crossed his mind that she’d actually get involved enough to try to intervene.

He’d thought that maybe she of all people would understand why he was doing it. She had lost so much herself. Maybe she would get it and let him be. Since he was finally truly happy, for the first time in a very long while.

But apparently not. She’d somehow come in without permission, lied to him in order to get him to trust her and then proceeded to try to take him away from the one thing, the one place, the one person that made him feel safe. She obviously didn’t give a fuck about Peter’s actual happiness and well-being. She was just being selfish, not thinking about what he actually wanted but rather what she wanted for him.

He still missed her, though. What she did... really hurt him. He wasn’t going to get over it anytime soon. But he still loved her. He knew that in reality, she was the only living family that he had left. He wished that she could have just understood, could have accepted the choices that he’d made and would continue to make. Maybe they could have even coexisted, in the new world he was creating for them. He could have had his family back, all of them, together and whole, just the way it should have been.

He was doing everything in his power… How was everything still falling apart? The whole point of leaving, of coming to the compound, of not communicating with anyone, was so that he could get away. So that he could have some peace.

And he’d found some, or at least he thought he had.

But his happiness was once again being stolen from him.

He was so tired of having to deal with the utter crock of bullshit that was his life. Fucking Parker luck.

He didn’t want to be in charge anymore.

Maybe he didn’t have to be.

(In the back of his mind, he thought briefly again of the fact that everything he did had spectators, whether he liked it or not. Despite feeling massively uncomfortable, he knew there was nothing he could really do about it, not without having to rewrite part of the program. And there was no way he was going to do that. There was always a small chance that he would lose any existing data. He couldn’t risk losing what he had built with Tony.

If they were going to watch, then…..well, he was going to put on a show.)

***

Peter had decided that he was going to bring his idea up to Tony. Even after thinking about it for a while, he wasn’t sure how to go about it. What was he supposed to say? “Hey Tony, I want you to be my dom?”

If he was being completely honest, that probably would have worked. (In fact, he knew it would have.)

But Peter couldn’t make himself just come out with the words like that. It wasn’t him. That wasn’t how he did things.

So instead, when it was time for Tony to come home from work, and he had gotten himself ready, put on some of the lingerie he’d bought during the honeymoon, Peter positioned himself on the floor in front of the elevator, kneeling on a pillow he’d taken from the couch.

He was only there for a minute or two when the doors opened and out walked his husband, making his heart beat wildly in his chest.

“Peter? Baby, what’s going on? What’s wrong? Why are you in the floor?” He paused, taking in the fact that Peter’s body was clad in only a lace bralette and matching panties, the aegean blue material popping enticingly against his skin. The man blinked, letting his eyes roam over the man’s submissive form before they snapped up to meet his husband’s. “Pete?”

For a moment Peter just sat there, searching Tony’s face. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath to steel himself for what he was about to do. His gaze met the older man’s once more. “Daddy.”

Eyes flashing, Tony reacted to the title much like Peter had hoped he would, and he recognized the dynamic that the boy was trying to set up. But he still wasn’t sure what was happening. “C’mon, baby, talk to me.”

That was the last thing Peter wanted to do. He shook his head minutely and closed his eyes again, sighing heavily.

Why couldn’t Tony just roll with it? He never had a problem indulging his kinks with no conversation before. They never needed to talk about it. Or so Peter thought. Why was the man insisting that he come out and say it this time?

“If you really want this, I need to hear you say it, Peter.”

“I’m tired,” he said finally, voice soft. “I don’t want to think anymore, I don’t want to think about any of it. I want…” Peter let himself trail off, swallowing. “I want to give control to you, Tony.” He let his eyes meet his husband’s again.

The man watched him for a moment more, face neutral. Whatever he saw must have satisfied him, as his eyes darkened and his stance shifted almost imperceptibly.

But Peter definitely noticed.

Something about the subtle change in his posture made Tony immediately appear more dominant, and Peter felt something deep within himself give. Yes, this was exactly what he wanted. To give himself to Tony, all of himself, until there was nothing left of him that wasn’t Tony’s, too.

A low hum emanated from the taller man’s chest as he crossed his arms, sharp yet caring eyes still trained consideringly on Peter’s kneeling form. “You need Daddy to take care of you, honey? Show you that you don’t have to do everything on your own, that it’s all gonna be okay?”

Peter was nodding before he even realized it. “Please,” he whispered. “Tony, please, yes.”

“Ah-ah,” Tony chided, walking forward a few steps until he was standing right in front of the boy. He reached down, taking Peter’s chin in his hand. His grip was firm, but gentle enough that it didn’t actually hurt. “That’s not my name right now, kid. What do you call me?”

Mouth suddenly dry, Peter swallowed. “Daddy.” The word had the muscles in his lower stomach clenching as he felt that molten heat begin to pool deep inside of him.

Tony smiled down at him as he ran the pad of this thumb over Peter’s bottom lip. “That’s right, baby.”

Peter let his lips part and he pushed his head forward slightly so that the finger entered his mouth. He gently sucked on the digit, enjoying the weight and warmth of it on his tongue.

“Do you trust me, Peter?” Removing his hand, Tony shrugged off his suit jacket, letting it fall to the floor and rolling up the sleeves of his white button-up.

“With my life,” Peter said automatically, still staring up at the man with wide eyes.

“Good.” His hands moved to pull at the knot of his tie, feeling the boy’s gaze burning into his skin. The gold of his wedding band glinted in the light. “Now crawl to the bedroom.”

Tony watched as Peter did just that, adjusting his position so that he was on all fours as he began making his way across the entryway and through the living room. A shiver ran through Peter’s body, and Tony knew that the hardwood floor was cold, especially with practically all of his skin exposed.

But he knew that his baby could take it.

Peter would take whatever Tony wanted to give him.

Staying a few paces behind his lover at all times, Tony’s eyes roved over Peter’s ass, watching the way it moved as he began ascending the stairs. He licked at his bottom lip, already imagining all the ways he was going to take his boy apart, break him down until he was begging for Tony to fill him up, to stuff him full of his cock.

The heat of Tony’s eyes on him had Peter’s blood thrumming in his veins as he reached the top step, turning the corner where he could see their bedroom door a few feet away. He felt...anxious, but in a good way. He didn’t know exactly what the older man had planned for him, but he was being honest when he said he trusted Tony.

(He didn’t say that Tony was probably the only person he trusted at this point.

Once they had both made it into the room, Peter now kneeling down on the floor at the foot of the bed, Tony didn’t let the teen out of his sight even as he pushed the door closed, arm extended out behind him. It shut, the sound nearly deafening in the quiet.

Shifting his weight, Tony opened his mouth, making no moves to get closer to his partner at the moment. “How you doing, baby?” The man tried to keep his voice soft, so as to not startle Peter, but as he had already allowed himself to slip pretty far into his dom headspace, he couldn’t completely get rid of the deep, commanding rasp.

Peter swallowed. “I’m okay,” he said quietly, making eye contact for a second before lowering his gaze to his knees, where his hands were loosely clasped.

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Just okay?” He paused and ran a hand through his hair, resulting in him looking slightly disheveled. It was at odds with the rest of his put-together appearance. “I’m gonna need more than okay, Pete. What are you thinking? Tell me.”

Eyes wide, not able to explain why he felt so compelled to comply, Peter did. “I’m great, Daddy. I’m just...nervous, I guess. I trust you, more than anything, and I want to know what’ s going to happen. Also I just,” he paused, a flush coming to his cheeks. “I love you so much.”

The older man’s eyes softened, and then he did take a step towards Peter. Then another. “I love you too, Peter.” He kept walking until he was standing right in from his husband, staring down at him, the tips of his shoes not even an inch from the bare skin of Peter’s knees. “Your safeword is ‘rhubarb’, okay baby? Repeat it back to me.”

A hint of a smile tugged at Peter’s lips at the word. He took a deep breath to compose himself before peering up at Tony again and speaking. “My safeword is ‘rhubarb’,” he intoned lightly.

“Good boy.” Something ignited in Tony as he witnessed the other’s reaction to the words. “You like that, don’t you, baby?” As if he didn’t know the answer from the barely audible mewl that escaped his lips and the way the ruddy tinge to his cheeks intensified. “Like knowing that Daddy’s pleased, that he’s happy with you?”

Peter nodded softly. “Yes, Daddy.”

“That’s all you want, isn’t it baby?” His hands moved to his tie, which was draped over his neck. He pulled it down and held it out in front of him, an end in each hand. “Close your eyes, Peter.”

Obliging after only a moment of hesitation, Peter’s lids fell shut. He sighed at the feeling of the soft, cool silk on the heated skin of his face.

“How does that feel?”

“It’s nice. I like it.” He paused. “There’s no strong smells in here which is nice but I can hear everything. I mean I already could but- This is so much more-”

Tony tutted softly, seeing the way the boy was getting frustrated with himself for rambling a bit, the nervous energy needing some way to escape. “Shhhh, relax baby. You don’t have to think, remember? Turn that little genius brain of yours off for a bit, huh? Let Daddy handle it, I’ll take care of everything, Pete.” He made a point not to touch him, not wanting to overwhelm him any further.

Peter sniffed, his nose twitching. “Okay.” He shifted his posture, rolling his shoulders and leaning to the side a bit to adjust his legs. He focused on the beating of Tony’s heart rather than his own, finding it more reassuring. “Okay,” he repeated, quieter this time, mostly speaking to himself.

Tony let them sit in the quiet for a moment, until he was satisfied that Peter had calmed down. “Good job, baby.” Hands dropping to his waist, Tony began to unfasten his belt. The sound of the metal clink might as well have been a gunshot with the way that Peter jerked. “Easy, kid, it’s just me.” After he pulled the leather through the loops on his pants, he let it drop down to the carpet where it landed with a thud. He undid his button and zipper before pulling his cock out so that he could stroke himself to full hardness.

“Look at you, baby. So pretty, down there on your knees for me,” he groaned. He circled his thumb around the head a few times, spreading the wetness there as he took in the sight before him. “So perfect for Daddy.”

Peter’s nipples had hardened underneath the dark lace and he pressed his thighs together at the sound of Tony’s hand moving over the slick skin of his shaft. Saliva was beginning to pool in his mouth; he could feel the heat of Tony’s erection in front of his face, the deep musk of the man’s scent like a drug to him. He made a soft noise in the back of his throat. “Please,” he whispered.

Now fully hard, Tony grabbed at Peter’s mussed curls with his left hand. He used his right to guide his cock to the boy’s lips, letting the tip rest there before tapping it against them a few times. “Open up, sweetheart.” When Peter did as he was told, Tony let out a deep sigh at the feeling of his mouth suckling on the head.

Peter whined again. His tongue danced around the tip of his husband’s cock and he sucked greedily at the salty fluid there. It was so heady, and he could already feel himself slipping down, bleeding into that space he’d always wondered about. His jaw began to go slack, the rest of his body relaxing in kind.

“There you go, baby,” Tony groaned, starting to cant his hips, pushing himself further into the wet heat of Peter’s mouth. He could tell from the way Peter suddenly went more pliant that he was starting to drop. “It’s alright, I’ve got you.”

The boy took him readily, even unconsciously reached a hand up in an attempt to find Tony’s hip and pull him closer. He keened in displeasure when Tony gently nudged him away.

“Hey, uh-uh, hands behind your back, kid. No touching.”

Another whine, but the young man once again followed the instruction. He began to bob his head, the lewd sounds of his mouth moving on the slick flesh filling the air.

Tony kept his fingers tangled in Peter’s hair as he cursed under his breath. “*Fuck*, Peter, that’s it baby. So perfect, you suck Daddy’s cock so good.” He started to thrust his hips again, shallowly at first but then getting deeper. When he reached the back of Peter’s throat, the boy’s muscles contracted around him as he gagged, desperately trying to swallow. “Shit, shit,” Tony muttered, eyes slipping shut at the sensation.

When Peter started to tense up, rising on his knees slightly, the man pulled back, leaving him spluttering as he tried to catch his breath. Thick drool was running down his chin as he coughed, and Tony didn’t hesitate before running his dick through it. “Open,” he commanded, scooping some of the liquid up with the pads of his fingers so he could push it back into the boy’s mouth. His cock was quick to follow, immediately going as deep as he could in order to make Peter’s body jerk again. “Swallow.”

Peter did his best, trying not to choke as the muscles in his throat contracted weakly around the intrusion. He tried to focus on breathing through his nose, but he gagged anyway, lurching backwards even though he was unable to get away, tethered by the firm grip of the hand clutching at his head.

Pulling back to let him breath for a moment, the sound of the frantic gasping making him grow impossibly harder, Tony only waited a few seconds before snapping his hips forward again. He fucked gently in and out of Peter’s mouth, praises falling unbidden from his own. “So perfect, Peter, god, you’re perfect. So good for me, kid.”

He could feel himself getting close, too close, after a minute so he roughly pulled Peter from his dick. “Shit, baby, almost made me cum,” he breathed heavily, almost as loud as the boy’s hurried lungfuls of air, and slowly tucked himself back into his slacks, still slick with spit. “You did so good, Peter.” His fingers released Peter’s hair, running through it soothingly a few times instead before moving to the lack of his head to tug at the blindfold.

Peter was firmly in subspace now, so the older man felt that the sensory deprivation wasn’t necessary anymore. And he wanted to see those big brown eyes for what he had planned next.

Kneeling down in front of him, Tony kissed the teen’s forehead and then his lips. His thumb swept over the apple of his cheek. “Hey, baby, can you look at me? How are you doing?”

Said eyes blinked up at him tearily, and Peter sniffled before coughing wetly. “Good,” he said, voice soft and wrecked, only able to meet the man’s gaze for a moment before his eyes fell. They paused on Tony’s clothed erection for a moment until they were trained on his own knees again. He blinked a few times before his mouth opened. “Knees hurt.”

Tony immediately moved, scooped the boy into his arms. “Thank you for telling me,” he said into Peter’s temple, pressing a kiss there before he gently deposited him on the bed. “Lay down for me, honey.” His eyes ran over the slight body sprawled out on top of the sheets, taking in the flush that seemed to cover most of Peter’s skin.

He looked absolutely delicious, slightly dazed with his cock hard and leaking in the dark blue of the lace panties.

Leaning down, Tony pressed gentle pecks over each of Peter’s red kneecaps, then switched to leaving a trail of them up the inside of his thighs.

Peter sighed happily, squirming a bit at the touch. He inhaled sharply when he suddenly felt the heat of Tony’s mouth over his fabric covered erection. “Daddy,” he whimpered, hips automatically twitching up in an attempt to find more stimulation.

“Shhhh,” Tony soothed, pulling away. He rubbed his thumb over this inside of Peter’s ankle. “Think you can kneel again for me, baby?” At Peter’s slight frown, he clarified, smiling softly. “Not on the floor, up here on the bed. Can you do that?” When he received a soft nod in response, he helped get the boy into position before climbing off the bed to rifle through one of the drawers in the nightstand, reassuring Peter that he just needed to grab something.

Peter watched him for a moment, mind drifting. He felt floaty, like he wasn’t quite in his body. It took a lot of effort to wiggle his toes, they felt...far away. Moving his fingers was easier, but it still took a good bit of concentration. Everything was soft, muted, like his head was stuffed full of cotton. Or something thick, like molasses.

It was a feeling that he decided he liked.

Suddenly Tony was back in front of him, stroking his cheek. “There you are, kid. Gonna tie you up now, okay honey?” He waited until Peter made eye contact with him before accepting it as consent, pressing a soft kiss to his lips and beginning to fiddle with the bundle of soft, black rope in his grip.

Peter smiled dopily to himself as he watched how Tony wrapped the silky cords around one hand before unwinding them again.

His gaze stayed on the man’s hands. He trusted those hands with anything. They were strong, capable. He never worried that those hands would hurt him. Not unless he wanted them to.

His eyes snapped up to Tony’s face when the dominant cleared his throat, calling Peter to attention once more.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, not breaking the heated eye contact that followed. He was getting lost in the depths of Tony's dark irises.

Tony hummed softly, fingers sliding against the soft rope that he was holding. “Don’t be, baby. It’s alright. What were you thinking about?” It was asked gently, but was clearly more of a command to answer than just a casual question.

“Your hands,” Peter answered instantly, cheeks heating at how eagerly he responded. He wanted to look away but found himself unable to.

“Uh huh. And what about them?”

“How strong they are. And beautiful. And how much I trust them. How much I trust you,” he whispered. He finally broke the eye contact, face burning. He probably sounded ridiculous.

“Look at me, honey.” Tony watched him, moving closer until he was kneeling on the bed in front of Peter. “I’m so glad you trust me.” He leaned in and pressed a gentle yet firm kiss to the sub’s lips as his hands moved to remove the blue lace from Peter’s chest. “Gonna take this off okay?”

Peter nodded slightly, melting into the kiss and whining when the heat of the other man’s lips left his.

A low chuckle came from Tony when he heard. He let the bralette fall to the floor at the side of the bed. “Sorry, baby. I’ve got something else I need to do before I can keep kissing you. Is that okay?”

“Yes, Daddy.” Peter’s bottom lip poked out slightly in a pout, despite his words.

“Thank you. Now, can you work with me here? I’ll need you to stay still for this part. Then we’ll lay you back down to do the rest.”

Peter nodded obediently, fixing his expression as he gazed at his husband.

Tony got to work quickly, staying silent as he focused.

The rope was looped around Peter’s chest, resting snugly on top of his pecs as it was brought back around and secured.

It was wrapped around again, underneath this time. The rope was tight around him, but not enough for it to hurt or even dig into his skin uncomfortably.

All he knew was the firm pressure of the cords around his body, holding onto him. He knew that he felt safe.

His eyes slipped shut as he relaxed, letting Tony artfully secure the silk rope around his body.

He didn’t open them again until he felt the warmth of his partner’s hands pulling away. He wasn’t quite sure how long he’d been spaced out, peacefully floating in his mind while Tony worked on him.

Tony leaned back to admire his handiwork, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “How does that feel, baby?” It certainly looked gorgeous, the black silk contrasting perfectly against Peter’s pale, lightly freckled skin.

“It’s-“ Peter’s voice was crackly as he started speaking. How long had it been since they started? Much longer than he’d realized, it seemed. “It’s really nice. Tight. But not too tight. Huggy.”

The older man laughed softly, rubbing a finger over one cord. If it was obvious that Peter was deep into subspace after the blowjob, Tony didn’t even know how to describe the boy’s current state. He loved it. It was nice to see him so relaxed and content.

He’d obviously needed someone else to take control of him for a while. And Tony was happy to help. He’d do anything for Peter.

“That’s good, honey. I don’t want it to hurt you. It’s supposed to be calming. Is it working? Do you feel safe?” He couldn’t keep the amused note out of his voice.

Peter nodded sluggishly, like the movement took all his focus. And it honestly did, given how deep he was in his headspace. Everything was soft and warm around the edges and nice.

“Good. Let’s lay you down now, okay? I’ll do your wrists next. Then your feet.” Tony walked the boy through the plan, letting him get used to the idea. He rubbed at his back as he straightened up on his knees, humming. “Not as young as I used to be, huh.” It was more to himself than anything.

“That’s okay, Daddy,” Peter spoke up gently as he moved forward on the bed a bit. It was hard to do so without being able to put his arms out to help steady him, so he was a bit wobbly on his knees, but managed to get to the center of the mattress. “I like you just the way you are.”

Tony chuckled, nodding. “I guess I’m glad for that, huh.” He placed a hand on the small of Peter’s back, helping guide him first into a sitting position, legs out in front of him, and then so that he was laying on his back. “Come on, baby. I know you’re all relaxed and everything, just need you to help me out a little with this.”

Once Peter was settled, he relaxed into the down comforter, content to just watch what the dom was doing.

Tony grabbed the final lengths of rope that he’d need to finish up. One for Peter’s wrists, then two others: one for each of his ankles. Those would be used to tie his feet to the end of the bed, keeping his legs spread. Less calm-inducing than the others, but it was infinitely more functional given his plans.

He took the longer cord first, humming as he tried to think about how he wanted Peter’s hands tied.

Typically he’d go for behind the back, it always had a nice, clean look and made the temptation to touch lessen. It also did a lot for making one feel truly restrained. But he needed the sub to be on his back, so he ultimately decided that his hands would be tied in the front.

He mentally went through the rope work he was planning, wanting to make sure he didn’t overlook anything, before he began executing the action on his husband.

It took only a few minutes for Tony to secure his hands in front of him, before he was moving on to his lower body. He tied the rope around his ankles and feet, so that the pressure wasn’t all in one spot and making the boy sore, and then finished by securing it to the footboard of the bed.

Peter tugged at the bonds slightly when he noticed that Tony was done, looking down at the loops around his ankles from where his head was propped up on the pillows.

He knew that he could easily get out of the restraints if he wanted. But the thing was...he didn’t want to.

He was finally able to give up control, not having to constantly have everything in his grip. He was able to hand it all off to Tony, letting himself relax.

And it was absolutely perfect.

He was pulled out of his thoughts as Tony’s hands started sliding up his sides, stopping when they reached the harness wrapped around him.

“You look amazing, baby,” Tony mused. Then he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the center of his sub’s sternum. Right above the place where the harness was divided up the middle and split to loop over Peter’s shoulders.

As he pulled his lips away, his hands came up to cup at Peter’s chest. His pecs were pushed out from the way the rope was tight around them. Tony was entranced.

“Look at these gorgeous tits,” he teased, thumbs quickly swiping over Peter’s peaked nipples.

It caused Peter to flush and shiver, arching up into the slight contact. It was nothing too serious, but he needed it all the same.

“Daddy,” he whined, breath catching in his throat. “Please….”

“Please what?” Tony asked, smirking slightly. “Use your words, kid. What do you want?”

Peter huffed. “Want you to touch me,” he breathed.

Tony’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Oh, is that all? Want me to touch you? Well, baby, I’m sure I can do just that.”

The gleam in his eyes made the teen slightly nervous again, but-

No, maybe nervous was the wrong word. He still couldn’t quite come up with a better description, though. Maybe he was… He was excited. Tony obviously had plans for him. And he still couldn’t wait to know exactly what they were.

“Thank you, Daddy,” he said sweetly.

Tony hummed softly, quickly pinching one of Peter’s nipples before withdrawing his touch entirely. “You remember that, okay? You wanted me to touch you. Acted like you’d die without it.”

Peter whimpered at the sharp stimulation and then again at its absence, hips rocking up unconsciously. “I’ll remember, Daddy, promise.”

“Good. I think it’s about time we start.” He paused for a moment, sitting back as he looked over his boy. “You remember your safeword?”

He shook his head as Peter nodded. “I need you to tell me what it is, kid. So I know that you know.”

Another little huff, the teen squirming impatiently. “It’s ‘rhubarb’, Daddy. Please-”

Tony smiled. "Alright, baby, thank you." Reaching out, he caressed Peter's cheek before leaning down to press their lips together. He let his tongue swipe over the teen's bottom lip and he was instantly granted access.

Peter mewled when Tony’s tongue licked at his own, body going boneless when a hand also began to apply a gentle but firm grip on his neck. He could feel the metal of Tony’s wedding ring. The soft, plaintive sounds just kept coming while Tony explored his mouth and a punched out little gasp left him when he suddenly found himself under the pressure of the man’s bodyweight. Without his permission, his hips jerked forward, desperately seeking more friction than the snug press of the lace panties against his leaking cock. The differing textures of Tony’s shirt and pants sent a shiver down his spine, and while the pace of his rutting was slow, the amount of force behind it increased.

Breathing heavily, Tony pulled back for a minute and turned his head so that he could mouth wetly at the side of his husband’s neck. He sucked a bruise into the skin there, drinking up the high, whines that the action elicited from Peter. “That’s it, baby, you gonna use Daddy’s body to get off?” He let out a groan when Peter’s erection slid against his own where it lay trapped in his briefs and suit pants.

Nodding, the boy shifted as he tried to move his limbs to wrap around Tony’s neck and waist. He cried out softly when he couldn’t, pulling at his restraints. “Daddy,” he whined, voice thin. “I want- I need-”

“Shhhh,” Tony soothed, lips capturing Peter’s again before pulling away, a strand of spit connecting them. “I know what you need, Peter.” He licked filthily into the teen’s open mouth. His dick throbbed at the way Peter went boneless underneath him again, offering himself up and letting Tony explore his mouth in a way that was truly indecent.

Their bodies undulated against each other as they made out, and Tony could tell that the younger man was getting close by the way his muscles would clench every couple of seconds.

He ground down against the soft, pliant body on the mattress, groaning. “Fuck, baby,” he breathed, looking into Peter’s moony eyes as the boy rutted desperately against his abdomen. “You’re so perfect, Peter, so beautiful. Shit, c’mon kid, make yourself cum for Daddy. C’mon baby.”

“Ahhhhh,” Peter whined, squeezing his eyes shut. “Daddy, please, gonna- I’m gonna-,” the words were cut off by a choked gasp as he tensed, toes curling. Still trapped in the panties, and in between their bodies, his cock jumped in its confines, hot spurts of sticky cum pooling underneath the head and smearing with his movements.

Tony could feel a wet patch forming on his thigh and he moaned low in his throat, his own erection almost painfully hard. But this wasn’t about him, it was all for Peter. He’d get his turn eventually. “Good boy, Peter,” he whispered roughly, pressing kisses wherever he could reach, taking in the blissed out look on his boy’s face.

“Daddy,” he sighed, heart thumping wildly in his chest. Peter’s body continued shuttering through the aftershocks, hips twitching up weakly as Tony pulled away.

After one more kiss, Tony started sitting up again to look over the teen’s body. His mouth watered at the sight of the cum against the lace covered hipbone, and the corresponding stain on the dark fabric of his pants. He ran a hand lightly over his own cock, adjusting it. “How did that feel, baby? Happy now?”

“Mhm….” he mumbled, again going limp against the bed. He felt like he was melting, disappearing like wet spun sugar. Everything felt slow. “Jus’ what I wanted, so good Daddy….” but he couldn’t deny that he still wanted more. He wanted his Daddy’s hands on him, possessive and guiding. Although he already felt the sensitivity creeping in, making him think that maybe waiting for a little bit before going again would be a good idea.

“Uh huh. That’s good, honey. You were so good for me, Peter.” Tony’s fingers trailed up Peter’s thigh, watching the muscles flex and tense underneath his touch. “But I’m not done with you yet, kid.”

Peter made a confused noise in the back of his throat before he started whining as his Daddy’s fingers brushed over his slowly softening cock. He arched his back, pushing his ass down into the bed in a fruitless attempt to get away from the touch. “Daddy, too much.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. He didn’t move his hand away, since Peter didn’t safeword, but he did pause, not doing anything more. “Too much? Do you need to use your word?”

The teen slowly shook his head, breathing hard. He didn’t want Tony to stop. He was just sensitive and he knew that the feeling would only increase.

“Okay, baby. If you’re sure.” He hooked his fingers underneath the waistband of Peter’s panties, slowly starting to tug them down his thighs. He grinned at the sight of the teen’s flushed cock laying against his hip, skin slick with streaks of cum. “You look gorgeous, Peter. You know that?” He brushed over the half-hard length, chuckling at how the boy twitched. “I know, I’m sorry. But I’m just doing what you wanted.”

Peter figured that was right. He had wanted to be touched. He should have known that was going to come back to bite him in the ass. A soft whine left him as Tony’s fingers started massaging his cock back to hardness. Although it didn’t take much.

“There we go...I knew you could go again. With that incredible recovery period of yours,” he teased.

Suddenly his touch was gone and Peter squirmed, hips rocking again. But he stilled when he noticed what Tony was doing.

The older man started with a chaste kiss to his lips, trailing presses of his lips down the teen’s body slowly. He moved down the bed as he worked, settling between Peter’s thighs with his lips on his hip bone. Hardly an inch away from where Peter wanted him.

Peter’s cock twitched against his stomach, like it was trying to reach Tony’s mouth. “Daddy….”

“Uh uh,” Tony chided, blowing a gentle breath across the sub’s damp skin. “You stay still. I’m doing things at my pace, you need to be patient.”

Dropping his head back against the pillows, Peter let out a shaky breath. He had a feeling that it would be a long night.

[southsidestory]

Hi longtime reader of your work (mostly SS) with your other works I saw that you ship Reylo and I was wondering what draws you in to that ship? After reading a smidge of your work with them I can honestly say I like them.

Buckle in, nonny, because this is gonna take a minute to answer 😅

Once upon a time (in January 2016), I went to see The Force Awakens. Before watching the movie, I ran across some anti-reylo sentiments floating around tumblr, and so I went in without positive expectations for the ship. But then I fell in love with the entire cast of characters, and I came out of the theater ecstatic. I was 1000% on the Stormpilot train from the start, but I resisted Reylo. I ended up seeing TFA in theaters FIVE TIMES which is *not* something I had ever done before. By viewing #2 I accepted that I was Star Wars trash… and by viewing #3 I accepted that I was Reylo trash lmao

There were a lot of things that drew me to Reylo initially (and most of them can be found in the interrogation scene).

1) Adam Driver’s FACE. I know that’s superficial but gotdamn the man is pretty, okay??

2) How fierce Rey is, even in her most vulnerable moments.

3) Conversely, how vulnerable Kylo is, even in his fiercest moments.

4) Rey and Kylo’s mutual loneliness. These are two people who deeply and intimately understand what it feels like to be alone, and they recognize that pain in one another—even though they really don’t want to… at first.

5) Enemies-to-lovers enemies-to-lovers enemies-to—you get the picture. I’m a simple creature who loves the ETL trope more than life. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

6) The fact that this dangerous, volatile man with literally royal lineage is immediately so fucking SOFT for this nobody girl from a desert junkyard??

7) Rey and Kylo are equals in the Force, which is established pretty damn quickly, and you can tell that Kylo is garbage for her from the get-go. The way he looks at her? Like she’s the most enchanting thing he’s ever seen?? Just kill me.

8) I also really enjoyed that she thrashed him during their big fight on Starkiller base. I do love a villainous man paired with the powerful woman who can kick his ass lol

There’s more. So much more. But those are a few of the things that made me a Reylo after I saw TFA. The Last Jedi was practically Reylo The Movie so it obviously only deepened my love for the ship!

If you want some recs for Reylo fics, just check out my bookmarks on AO3! There are a lot of goodies in there that you might enjoy 😉

[fangirl530]

Acts of True Love Don't Have to be Romantic

AO3 link

Rapunzel touches something she shouldn't while at the spire, sending her into a deep sleep. As the trope goes, only an act of true love can wake her up. No problem, this will be easy!

... Right?

-

“-and I’m telling you, the best way to read is to lie on the floor with the book above you,” Calliope said from her place on the floor. “You’re all doing it wrong.”

“Okay,” Rapunzel interjected, closing her book. “Maybe we should take a break.” She, Eugene, Varian, Lance, Angry, and Catalina were at the Spire, helping Calliope to find out what the various artifacts it held did- as they weren’t labeled.

Rapunzel had warned the younger members of their party that Calliope could be a bit… egocentric, but words hadn’t prepared them for meeting her. She could tell they were about to snap.

Immediately after she voiced her suggestion, Angry jumped to her feet. “Race you outside!” she said to Catalina, before sprinting to the door. Catalina jumped up too, chasing after her with a determined smile. Lance stood, stretching.

“I’m going with them,” he said. He grinned. “Keep them out of trouble, you know?”

Calliope nodded. “There are a lot of dangers out there,” she said. “Watch out for the wolves.”

Lance chuckled. “Yeah, sure,” he said, smirking. “We’ll be careful.” he left, and Calliope frowned, looking at Rapunzel.

“You're not more concerned about them?” she asked. Rapunzel shook her head.

“No, they’ll be okay- they know what they’re doing,” she reassured. Calliope rolled her eyes.

“You Coronans,” she said. “It must be awful to be so dumb.”

“Hey, why don’t we look at the artifacts?” Rapunzel suggested quickly as Varian gaped at the keeper. “Maybe they have a clue on them about what they are?”

“Of course!” Calliope grinned. “The artifacts may have inscriptions on them about how they’re used. That’s brilliant, I’m so glad I thought of it!”

Eugene put an arm around Varian. “Goggles and I will check these ones, over here,” he said, leading the grumbling boy away from her. Rapunzel and Calliope went their own way, examining various artifacts. After setting down a box with a heart on the lid, Rapunzel moved to a spinning wheel and knelt in front of it. She tilted her head to one side, curious.

It didn’t look magic- the spindle wasn’t even sharp! She reached out, tapping her finger against it- and hissed as it pricked her finger.

“You’re sharper…” her eyes grew heavy, and she yawned. “...then...you look…” her eyes closed, and she fell over with a soft thud.

Varian looked up from where he was examining a sword, in the direction he’d seen Rapunzel go.

“Did you say something Rapu-” he gasped, eyes widening with horror. “Rapunzel!” he cried, running toward her. He was vaguely aware of Eugene close on his heels, but he only had eyes for the unconscious princess.

He fell to his knees at her side, fear filling him. Was she…?

Eugene must have had the same thing in mind, because he reached out and placed his fingers on the side of her neck. After a moment, he sighed in relief.

“She’s just asleep,” he reassured Varian. “Still not good- but better than the alternative.” he looked at the wheel in front of them, frowning. “It must have been this thing that caused it.”

Varian looked around, scanning the piles of books. “I think I saw a book on artifacts related to sleep earlier,” he said. He started to rise to his feet, prepared to search the piles, but Calliope’s yell stopped him.

“I’ve got it!” she called, waving the book in question around with a triumphant grin. The book slipped from her hand, and Varian’s eyes widened. He ducked, and the book flew over his head and hit Eugene in the face. The man grunted, and when Varian turned to look at him, he had an extremely unamused expression on his face. Varian snickered, reaching for the book.

“Nice catch, Eugene,” he teased, opening it and flipping through the pages.

“Yeah yeah,” Eugene said, smirking as he shuffled over next to him, placing his hands on his shoulders and leaning over to look past his head at the book.

“So,” Calliope said loudly, plopping down next to Varian and leaning up against his side, scanning the book. “Find anything useful?” Varian frowned at her as he flipped the page.

“No, not yet- wait!” he pointed at the page, excitement in his voice. “Here! ‘The spindle of sleep’. Designed to fool its targets by seemingly being blunt, and when they touch it, it puts them in a deep sleep.” he dragged his finger down the page. “It says here, an act of true love can wake her up.” his eyes narrowed. “But there’s a part at the bottom that’s blotched out with ink- I can’t make it out.”

“It’s probably not important.” Calliope shrugged it off. “Anyway, an act of true love- that should be easy.”

-

Eugene sat at Rapunzel’s bedside with Pascal, watching for any changes. Of course, he’d tried kissing her- which had been slightly awkward, at first. Varian had been courteous enough to look away, but Calliope had stared at him until Varian put a hand on her shoulder and suggested they go tell Lance and the girls what had happened.

After they were gone, Eugene had pulled Rapunzel up gently, supporting her head, and kissed her gently. He’d sat back, waiting- and nothing had happened. Unsure what to do, they’d all said goodbye to Calliope and rushed back to Corona.

“Hey buddy,” Lance’s voice said, drawing he and Pascal’s attention. The man stepped into the room with Angry and Catalina close behind him. “How are you holding up?”

Eugene sighed. “I’m worried about her, but I know we’ll find a way to wake her up- Varian is in the library right now, searching for a solution.” he stood. “I’m going to go help him- could you stay with Pascal and keep an eye on Rapunzel for me?”

“Sure,” Lance agreed. “But, that’s not what I meant.” Eugene looked at him, confused, and he continued. “With your kiss not waking her up,” he explained. Eugene snorted, much to the Schnitz family’s confusion.

“Oh, that,” he said. “No, I’m not concerned about it at all.”

“Oh no, he’s gone mad with worry,” Lance stage-whispered down to his daughters. Angry raised her hand, grinning maniacally.

“Can I be the one to smack him?” she asked. Eugene rolled his eyes.

“I’m fine, guys- really. I know a lot about acts of true love- mostly because most of the books I read got it wrong.” he crossed his arms smugly. “As long as the person doing the act of true love truly loves the person, it will work- the person doesn’t have to love them back.”

“Huh, guess all those romance books we read came in handy after all,” Lance mused. Eugene grinned.

“I know, right?”

“But then why didn’t Rapunzel wake up?” Catalina asked, confused.

“Remember how the book had a part at the end that was blotched out?” Eugene asked. “It must have been a stipulation- a rule, or something. So it’s not easy.”

“It never is,” Lance agreed. He clapped Eugene on the shoulder. “Go help Varian- we’ve got things covered here.” Pascal jumped from the bed to his shoulder and nodded.

“Thanks Lance,” Eugene said. He gave them a cheerful smile. “I’ll be back soon- it shouldn’t take too long! How many books can there be?” he left, missing the sympathetic look Lance sent him.

“Poor guy’s never searched the magic section in that library,” he said, shaking his head. “Better make yourselves comfortable- we’re gonna be here a while.”

Eugene walked through the castle, heading for where he thought the library was. He had been in there before- not often, but enough to have a pretty good idea how to find it. Sure enough, he soon came to a large set of doors that he definitely remembered belonging to the library.

He opened them and stepped inside, turning to close them behind him.“Hey Varian,” he called over his shoulder. “Did you manage to find any books on-” he stopped, jaw dropping at the sight before him.

“Hey,” Varian said, waving. “Yeah, I managed to find a few.”

A few was an understatement. Varian and Ruddiger were surrounded entirely by stacks of books, at least six books tall.

“Well,” Eugene said, laughing slightly. “We’d better get started, huh?”

-

“I can’t believe this,” Varian said, slamming closed the book he’d just flipped through with a thud. “Every one of these books has ‘an act of true love’ as the only way to wake someone from an enchanted sleep!” Ruddiger patted the boy’s knee reassuringly, and Varian scratched behind his ears with a slight smile.

Eugene closed his own book, sighing. “Same here,” he said, standing. “I’m going to go grab us something to eat, and let Lance know he can take Angry and Catalina to the kitchen to eat too.” he gestured to the pile of unread books. “You okay with taking the rest of these up to Rapunzel’s room?”

“Sure,” Varian said, grabbing for another book and flipping it open to the index.

“I’ll come to get you when the food’s done,” Eugene said. Varian looked up at him with a grateful smile.

“Thanks, Eugene,” he said. Eugene smiled back.

“No problem, goggles.” After he left, Varian went back to reading. The one in his hands quickly turned out to be useless, so he pushed it aside with the others and picked up a new one.

“Come on,” he muttered as he flipped it open to the section on enchanted sleeping spells. His heart sunk as he saw yet another page explaining acts of true love- but it lofted again when he spotted a little three next to one of the words. “A footnote!” he said, excited. He scanned the text at the bottom of the page until he found the three.

“‘For a potion to reverse the effects of a sleeping spell, turn to the potions section- located on page fifty three.’ yes!” he grinned, practically vibrating as he flipped through the book. Quickly skimming the page gave him all the information he needed to make the potion. He grinned. “I found it, Ruddiger!” he said to the raccoon, who chittered and crawled onto his shoulders as he stood. He put a paper in the book to mark the page, and ran from the room.

He wanted to get the potion done as soon as possible… but first, he had to see Rapunzel. Once he arrived, he poked his head inside and found it empty, except for the princess, and Pascal, who was sitting by her side on the bed.

Eugene must have come to relieve Lance and the girls already, he thought, stepping in. he crossed the room to Rapunzel’s bed and kneeling in front of it, placing his arms on the surface.

“I think I found a way to wake her up,” he said to Pascal. The chameleon immediately brightened (literally- he could have sworn he turned a shade or two brighter green) and Varian smiled. “I have to get the ingredients first, but it’s not hard to make.” stood, puffing his chest out. Varian looked at him, confused for a moment before realizing what Pascal was trying to tell him. “You want to come with?” he asked. Pascal nodded, and Varian grinned. “Well, welcome aboard!” he held out a hand, and the chameleon crawled onto it and crawled up to his shoulder with Ruddiger.

Before he left, he looked down at Rapunzel and hesitated for only a moment before lifting her up gently and giving her a tight hug.

“Hold on just a little longer Rapunzel,” he whispered into her shoulder. “Just a little longer, and we’ll have what we need to reverse the spell.” he laid her back down and left the room, determination filling him. This had to work- it just had to.

-(just a few moments after Varian left)

Eugene backed into the door, pushing it open, a tray of food in his hands. “Hey Goggles,” he called out. “You here? I got the food- even got some fruit for the frog and an apple for Ruddiger.”

“Eugene?” a voice that was definitely not Varian’s said. Eugene slowly turned around, and was met with his wife sitting up in bed and watching him, a soft smile on her face.

“Rapunzel!” he said, his face breaking into a smile. He barely remembered to put the food down before running across the room, throwing his arms around her. “You’re awake!”

She giggled, hugging him back. “I’m awake,” she agreed.

Eugene pulled back, though keeping his hands on her shoulders. “Not that I’m not grateful, but… how?” he asked. “The act of true love was the only way we knew- and it didn’t work.”

“I actually have an explanation for that!” Rapunzel grinned. “There was a really nice person in that dreamscape I was in- they said that the act of true love had to be one that was platonic. Like, friendship.”

“Ah, that makes sense!” Eugene grinned, though he still looked puzzled. “So… who was it?” he asked. Rapunzel’s smile grew softer.

“It was Varian,” she said. “I could hear him, in the dreamscape- and I felt his hug.” she brought a hand to her chest. “I felt a warmth, right here, and I could feel his arms around me. OH!” she grabbed Eugene’s shoulders, her expression becoming urgent. “We have to go stop him! He’s about to go get ingredients for a potion that was supposed to reverse the effects!”

“Come on then!” Eugene whisked her off the bed, dropping a kiss onto her forehead as he did so. Together, they rushed down to Varian’s lab.

-

Varian ran back and forth across his lab, picking up various flasks and containers to store the ingredients in and putting them in his backpack. He also dropped in some of his alchemy solutions and creations, in case he needed them.

“Okay,” he said, shuffling through it. “I think that’s everything we'll need! I just need to get my cloak. Now where is it…” as he looked around his lab, he heard the creak of the door opening and footsteps coming down the stairs. “Hey Eugene,” he said, spotting the cloak and crossing the room to grab it. “I think I found a way to wake Rapunzel- Ruddiger, Pascal and I are about to get the ingredients I’ll need.”

“Varian,” an achingly familiar voice said, laughter in their voice. Gasping, Varian spun around and saw Eugene and Rapunzel standing at the bottom of the stairs.

“Rapunzel?” he whispered. Rapunzel nodded, and Varian rushed forward and into her arms. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he said, after pulling back. He looked at her quizzically. “But… how did you wake up? Except for the potion, you can’t wake up unless you’re given an act of true love.”

“I was!” Rapunzel said, beaming. “You gave me an act of true love!” Varian took a step back, eyes widening.

“But- I mean, I love you, but I don’t-” he looked at Eugene, alarm filling him. “Eugene, I swear I don’t-”

“It’s okay, Goggles,” Eugene said, chuckling. He put a hand on Rapunzel’s shoulder. “Blondie, you can’t stop there- you need to explain a little further.”

“Right,” Rapunzel said, blushing. “Sorry, I got excited. The act of true love has to be platonic,” she explained to Varian. “Not romantic. It has to come from someone I’m not romantically involved with.” she smiled, putting a hand on his shoulder. “It was your hug that woke me up.”

“Wow,” Varian said faintly, as Pascal came across the floor on Ruddiger’s back. Ruddiger crawled onto Varian’s shoulder as Rapunzel picked him up and held him close to her face, giggling as he hugged her cheek.

“I missed you too buddy,” she said, kissing his head. After transferring him to her shoulder, she put an arm around Varian, and stuck her other through Eugene’s arm. “Let’s go find Lance, Angry, and Catalina,” she said, pulling them both to the door. “I want to see them.” They found the family easily- they were still in the kitchen, eating. When Rapunzel walked in, both girls gasped and rushed to her, latching onto her waist.

“You’re awake!” Catalina said, grinning. Rapunzel laughed, squeezing them both.

“I am,” she agreed. After they released her, she was swept into a hug by Lance. She hugged him back, the smile never leaving her face.

“Glad you’re back, Rapunzel,” he said, with a grin equal to hers.

“I’m glad to be back,” Rapunzel said, as they separated. She looked from him, to Eugene, to Varian, and to the girls, her eyes bright with emotion. “I love you guys, so much,” she said. “I’m so lucky to have a family like you.” she spread her arms out, grinning widely. “Group hug!”

Angry and Catalina dove in immediately, relatching themselves to her waist. Varian put his arm around her and placed the other on Angry’s shoulder, a little smile on his face. Eugene and Lance stood on the outside, hugging everyone in their little group- including each other. Ruddiger chittered, grinning at Pascal (who had crawled onto Rapunzel’s head). The chameleon smiled back.

For a girl who had grown up alone in a tower, with only a cold woman who only cared for her power as a mother… she sure had a big, loving family.

[b-else-writes]

the tiger shark and the sun

New chapter posted for my Star Wars/Avatar the Last Airbender-RebelCaptain fusion AU! Feat: Jyn calls Obi Wan an old fart, Jyn tells Luke and Leia to stop being melodramatic about becoming evil, dragons, and me ranting about the “evil sexy matriarchy” fantasy trope. 

Read on AO3 | Read from start

Pairings: Jyn/Cassian, minor Han/Leia and Baze/Chirrut, random minor background pairings

Rating: T

Summary: Star Wars/Avatar the Last Airbender fusion AU. The Fire Nation, under  Fire Lord Palpatine and Lord Vader, has been at War with the world for  the last twenty years. When Jyn Erso lands on his doorstep the day  Cassian, last southern waterbender, is assigned to protect the Avatar,  she seems just another obstacle in ending the War. An obstacle he would  willingly remove. For exiled firebender Jyn, the Avatar is her last way  home - and to her hostaged father, never mind her own conscience. But as  their paths keep crossing, and the Avatar needs all help in saving the  world, Jyn and Cassian find they are more alike than they ever thought  possible.

Snippet under the cut!

Jyn woke with a start, rapidly trying to figure out where she was. She was lying on a straw mattress in a stone room. The early morning light filtered in through a low window. On the ceiling were carvings of circling sky bisons.

Slowly, her memory returned. Jyn sat up, taking in the small room in Hynestia, the Western Air City. Cassian and Kay were nowhere in sight. He had removed her bracers and her boots sometime after she’d fallen asleep, and left then. But there was a dent on the mattress from where he’d been. She could still smell him – and his horrible lizard – and she gave herself a moment to imagine a world where someone like her…

She hastily shoved the thought aside. Another, more pressing concern than her unrequited feelings had emerged. She was supposed to teach. Jyn buckled on her bracers and slid her boots on quickly. She combed her fingers through her hair, repining the bun, and set about finding Enfys.

It took her a surprisingly short time to get around: the entire city seemed to have been developed and built for easy accessibility, with lifts, railings, and maps everywhere. Enfys, after she’d shown Jyn her room, had said she was going to the temple. Jyn found her and Luke curled up on the temple floor, fast asleep.

Jyn crouched and poked her. “Wake up!” she hissed.

Enfys groaned, red braids falling in her face. “Jyn, it’s only dawn…”

“Enfys, I need your help.” Luke made a noise but continued to snore. Jyn pursed her lips. “I’ll make you those wheat pancakes with dates and honey you love,” she said in her sweetest voice.

Enfys cracked one eye open. “We don’t have honey or dates.”

“I brought a jar as a peace offering,” she admitted. There was a pause. With a groan, Enfys extricated herself from Luke’s arms, pulling her cape on. Luke made a little grumble and rolled over. Jyn refrained from commenting as Enfys trailed after her to the central atrium. Enfys was perfectly liable to turn it right back on her.

As Jyn got the ingredients out from her satchel on the war balloon, Enfys asked, “So, what’s the issue?”

Swallowing her pride, “How did you teach the twins?”

There was another long pause. “You didn’t think this through at all, did you?” Enfys said, covering her mouth with her hand. Jyn glared. “I’m not laughing, I’m not!”

“I hate you,” Jyn said, swatting the date jar away from Enfys’ grip.

“No, you don’t,” Enfys said happily, dipping one finger in the honey jar and licking it. Jyn crouched to light the cookfire. It took a moment for the flame to appear on her fingertips. She frowned, but Enfys continued to speak, refocusing her attention. “Well, for me it was simple – I just followed how I was taught by my mother and aunts and elders. I already had a lesson plan ingrained in me.”

Jyn shook her head, feeling her pulse race, though it had been a decade since Master Jorus had backhanded her to perform better. “That…is not going to work.”

Enfys’ face clouded over. She stood from her perch and began to help Jyn, brushing her hands against hers. “Well, then, start simple. Like how to produce fire. And go from there. Basic punches and blocks, you do that a lot, don’t you?”

“They’re called fire fists.”

“My mistake,” Enfys said, her eyes sparkling with mirth, “Fire fists and fire kicks and fiery-ness and aallll that.”

Jyn bit back a smile, extending the plate with honey-drizzled wheat pancakes. “For her highness, the Queen of Mon Cala.”

Enfys immediately grabbed it, digging in with a moan of delight. “One of the few things from the Fire Nation worth saving,” she said, her mouth full of food.

“What’s the rest?”

“Don’t fish for compliments,” Enfys said easily, making Jyn grin. As Baze and Chirrut came in, Enfys added, “Just remember to be patient.”

“I am a beacon of patience.”

Enfys laughed. “I meant with yourself, Jyn. You’re doing something new and difficult. So be kind to yourself as you figure it out.”

She sighed, resting her head against her best friend’s shoulder. “And yet you won’t share your portion with me?” she asked, fighting down her own rising panic.

“You’re impossible,” Enfys laughed, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Now eat up for your first big lesson, Master Jyn.”

Jyn stretched and popped out her muscles. She, Luke, and Leia stood in a beautiful courtyard of cream and white clay and wood. She imagined it must have been a communal space when Hynestia had still housed Air Nomads. She didn’t like dwelling on that too long. She could still feel…something clinging to the place. Fire child, they whispered, stroking her face and hair, this is what your people did.

She would have preferred pure hatred, but she felt that was not their way. It would have been easier than guilt. Especially when she saw the sadness in Enfys’ eyes.

Jyn focused back on the twins. Both wore expressions of trepidation, Leia in particular throwing her suspicious looks. Jyn tried not to take it too personally. “Have either of you ever firebent before?”

They exchanged a look. “Once,” Luke said, shifting a little, “We… we burnt Cassian by accident.”

Multiple statements immediately became clear in Jyn’s head. She pushed aside her own empathy for Cassian – and her instinctive urge to get angry on his behalf. Cassian held no grudge about it. Patiently, she said, “Most firebenders accidentally burn themselves or others when they’re starting out as children. It’s…normal.

“Alright then, let’s see what fire you can produce,” she said, folding her hands behind her back. Keep patient. Don’t be like Master Jorus. Don’t be what the Air Nomads know you could be. The summer heat touched the scars on her arms.

Exchanging another uneasy glance, the twins sank into a low hot-squat, good form, and punched.

A puff of smoke came out.

“That’s it?” Leia glared. Jyn resisted the very powerful urge to groan. “Let me demonstrate,” she said. Her muscle memory was so honed that Jyn didn’t even need to think. She sank and punched, sleeves billowing.

She produced a tiny gasp of flame.

Leia began clapping. Jyn scowled. “Don’t patronize, you know what it’s supposed to look like,” she grumbled. Jyn punched again. She slid into various forms, again and again. Only wisps of flame. “What in the…”

“Maybe you were never as good as you thought you were,” Leia said, grinning slightly.

“Oh, you’re hilarious,” Jyn snapped, trying in vain to produce more flame.

“Maybe it’s the altitude?” Luke suggested, though he didn’t look convinced. Jyn stared at her hands. Her inner flame felt cold and dull in her chest, despite the sunlight pouring over her skin. Sól, give me power, she thought, but none came.

Her firebending was gone. Somewhere, she could feel Master Jorus laughing.

The group sat around the cookfire, eating and chatting. The summer days were long, Chirrut knew. He could still feel heat despite the dinner hour. Baze had passed him his bowl, their fingers brushing. He smiled, gripping Baze’s fingers momentarily and grounding them both.

He heard Jyn clear her throat to speak. “There’s…a problem. I’ve lost my firebending. Well, not lost…but it’s weaker now and I can’t figure it.”

Chirrut considered as he munched. Bending was inherently spiritual, something that many had now forgotten, preferring to use as a blunt instrument. Jyn had never struck him before as someone who wanted to look within herself.

“Maybe it’s because you changed sides,” Cassian spoke up. Chirrut’s seismic sense could feel Jyn immediately perk up and orient towards him. Oh, young love. “Your firebending used to come from anger and desperation. Now you have none.”

“So, what? We piss Erso off?” Han asked, poking Erso with his sword butt.

Jyn kicked him in the shin. “Cut that out! It’s not an option.”

“What you need is a new source,” Chirrut said. “And by that, I mean an old one. The original. For earthbending, the first earthbenders were the badgermoles. When I was young, I ran away and hid in a cave. A blind child was better off gone.”

He still remembered the pain and fear as he had fled Jedha’s orphanage, stumbling through the crowds of people out into the scorching, shifting ground he had learnt was sand. Finding his way into the Catacombs. Surrounding by the dead, as he imagined he would soon become.

The Spirits had other plans. There had been a great crunch of rock, and a soft, wet snout had nosed him. They had recognized him as one of their own. “The badgermoles are also born blind. I learnt earthbending as an extension of my senses. Earthbending is not a martial art – it is a way of interacting and moving through the world, and that is the form I taught Luke and Leia.”

The wonder he had felt as he began to feel the world expanding outwards beneath his palms and feet. The grubs and creatures that lurked beneath the desert sand. The hardy plants that nourished from the earth. The secret oases. The possibilities that had exploded to him. His only regret was that it was no help to non-benders and other benders, but Chirrut was nothing if not stubborn. He had tried to help them too, as a Guardian of the Whills.

“Firebending isn’t like that,” Jyn said quietly, standing up and pacing.

“But surely you must know who the original firebenders were,” Enfys said, “I learnt from my Tribe, but the first airbenders were the sky bison. That’s influenced our bending to use gliders to fly, to our culture!”

Jyn walked over to Chirrut. He felt the same turmoil of his childhood self, in her. “It won’t work. The first firebenders were the dragons, and they’re extinct. There’s no other way.”

Baze squeezed Jyn’s hand. “There is always another way.”

Jyn was silent for a moment. When she spoke, he felt the vibrations. There is something she is concealing. “We’re not far from the island of Dathomir. The witches of Dathomir were said to be the first to learn firebending from the Dragons. They were killed off thousands of years ago. You still hear stories, but there’s no proof their society still exists. We might find something. Otherwise…”

“Sometimes the shadows of the past can be felt by the present,” Chirrut said. Several of the group shifted uncomfortably.

“We don’t have much of a choice,” Luke said, “Han, can we borrow the Falcon?”

keep reading

[hookedonapirate]

Through the Rising Tide

Thank you so much for the beautiful graphic @itsfabianadocarmo​!

Summary: The Jones brothers are polar opposites. Liam's the safe and honorable one, straight-laced and straight as an arrow. The good son.

Killian's the dangerous one, the bad boy with tats, leather jackets, a motorcycle and a questionable past.

The only things they have in common are panty-melting sea-blue eyes, the flat they share in Storybrooke and a rare blood type.

Oh, and apparently their taste in women.

Or rather, one woman.

Feisty.

Blonde.

Gorgeous.

Green-eyed Goddess.

Killian saw her first, but she chose his brother—the nice guy over the playboy. And even though she’s dating his brother, it doesn't make him want her any less. If that's not bad enough, she moves in with them and he has to pretend he's not completely in love with her. His life could not get any worse…

Until Liam dies in a tragic motorcycle accident.

Leaving each of them with one half of a broken heart.

Now Killian and Emma are left helping each other pick up the pieces.

Just as they're beginning to learn how to live in their new reality, another riptide pulls them further into the deep end when she finds out she's pregnant with Liam's baby.

Notes: 

Starts out as Jewelled Swan. Don’t like, don’t read!

Thank you @ultraluckycatnd​​ for looking it over!

This story was inspired by Baby Mine by Kennedy Fox, and I loved the book so much and thought it was very much underrated. I’ve wanted to write a fic like this for a long time now because it’s one of my favorite tropes, but after I read that book, I just had to write my own take.

The title comes from the lyrics of the song, Lay By Me by Ruben. The particular line goes like this:

"I hope you know through the rising tide

That I'll be here and you can lay by my side"

If you've never heard it, I recommend giving it a listen. It's an amazing song and very fitting for this story.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VFJbLzEtoZw

P.S. In case you're unable to read the shoulder tattoo in the picture above and are wondering what it says—

"There is no happiness without tears

No life without death

And no true love without heartbreak"

Rated: Explicit for smut (including sexual fantasies, masturbation, implied and detailed sex, etc.) and language (lots of F-bombs).

Also available on: AO3 FF.N

Catch up: Ch 1 // Ch 2 //

Chapter 3

One Year Later…

 With a sleepy groan, Emma shoots out her hand to silence the loud, annoying noise coming from her phone. “Ugh…” She drops the device on the nightstand and retreats underneath the covers, not ready to get up yet. She’s never ready to get up in the morning. She rolls over to her other side, seeking warmth from the body lying next to her. She wraps her arms around his torso and buries her face in his chest, not wanting to leave him. But she has to get ready for work. She hates the thought of leaving his arms, though. They fit so well together like this, like two puzzle pieces.

 She knows the longer she lies here like this, though, the stronger the urge to stay will be. She attempts to force herself out of bed. She kisses her sleeping boyfriend’s forehead and starts to get up. His strong arms pull her back to him, his hands latching onto her hips, pulling her on top of him so she’s straddling him. Emma emits a sleepy moan when she feels his thickness pressed against her core.

 “Where do you think you’re going, love?” he asks, his voice groggy with sleep as he wraps his arms around her to ensure she won’t leave him.

 “I have to go to work,” she groans, clearly not happy about it. When he tightens his arms around her, she wiggles in his hold and laughs, trying to free herself, but honestly, she’s not trying very hard.

 He caresses her cheek and pulls her in for a lazy kiss, his tongue sweeping into her mouth to taste her. She moans against his lips, her body tingling and molding to his as she rocks slightly against him, her arousal coating his hard length as he arches his hips into her, seeking more friction. Friction she desperately wants to give him.

 But as much as she wants to get caught up in the kiss, in the effect he has on her, as much as she wants to just give herself to him and ride him into the next world, she really has to get up and go to work. She breaks the kiss, as painful and difficult as it is. “Babe, you’re not making it easy,” she says breathlessly.

 He pouts as he looks up at her, his crystal blue eyes boring into her green ones, not making this any easier. No, the way he’s looking at her right now makes it ten times harder. 

 “Sure you don’t have time for a quickie?” he begs, releasing a small groan of desperation as he palms her naked breast, brushing the pad of his thumb over her nipple, making it hard. 

 “Babe, if you make me late—” Her pleas are instantly silenced when he moves his hands to her ass and squeezes, pressing her more firmly against him. 

 He flashes a devilish smirk, one tainted with mischief that she only witnesses when they’re either talking about sex, having sex or about to have sex. “Then I’ll get to fuck you for the next hour.” 

 Emma had actually planned on getting up, but when she feels Liam’s lips on her neck and his teeth nibbling her skin, when she feels the head of his cock at her entrance, all bets are off. A moan tumbles from her lips and soon, Liam is grabbing her hips and sliding into her. Emma sits up, placing her hands on his chest in total submission and rocks her hips back and forth, eager to have him completely buried inside of her. 

 “Oh, fuck, Emma. . .”

 He reaches for her breasts again and squeezes as she rides his dick. She’s so glad she’d set her alarm clock fifteen minutes early like she always does because she knows nine times out of ten, she’ll let Liam get his way. It's their morning routine.

 But she can’t help it. Her boyfriend is so irresistible. The way he flips her over, sending Emma to her back, the way he pounds into her so rough and hard like he can never get enough of her. The way he kisses her so deeply and passionately, making her head spin. The expression on his face as her walls grip his cock, the way he groans, setting her skin ablaze. And the way he’s kissing her after it’s over, both of them breathless. When he pulls out, the way he kisses every inch of her on his way to her satisfied core, his cum dripping from her entrance as she combs her fingers through his curly brown hair. The way he laps up both of their orgasms from her cunt until her walls are fluttering around his tongue. She can’t help but give in to all of it.

 Emma’s fingers clench around his hair as she screams through another incredible orgasm. “Fuck… Liam!” 

 And once she's able to reassemble herself and jump out of bed before he can talk her into cuddling or going for another round, she immediately hates having to leave him. But now she must.

 Emma throws on some clothes, making sure she’s dressed appropriately in case she runs into her other roommate as she heads to the bathroom. The big, blissful smile plastered on her face instantly vanishes, though, her nose scrunching in disapproval when she steps on something and looks down, spotting a red, lacey thong on the floor outside Killian’s bedroom. A thong that is not her own. 

 What the actual fuck? 

 She grimaces and kicks the fabric aside like it’s contaminated with a deadly virus. She’s not surprised though. Disgusted, yes, but not surprised. Killian is always bringing a different woman home with him, and she and Liam always have to hear the noises coming from his bedroom. Therefore, they never feel bad when they’re going at it in their bedroom, and don’t even bother being quiet. 

 Sometimes she thinks the two brothers are engaging in some sort of weird contest, trying to see who can make the woman they’re with scream the loudest. She gathers it’s a pissing contest between the two brothers to see who’s the better bloke in the sack or to see who has the bigger cock. So Emma always makes sure she’s extra loud to let Killian know just how good his brother is in the sack. And so far, none of the women Killian’s brought to his bed have outmatched her. 

 Emma grins at the thought as she continues to the bathroom to relieve her bladder. She also thinks about how much things have changed since she came here to Storybrooke. She’d never meant to start a relationship with Liam, or anyone for that matter, when she’d ran into him outside his bar the night they’d met. They had exchanged phone numbers and he’d asked her out the next day, to which she’d reluctantly accepted. She was reluctant, not because she wasn't attracted to him—because God, she was—but because she still had a strong fortress surrounding her heart from when Neal had shattered it to pieces. But when she’d learned Liam too was cheated on by an ex, they had bonded over their heartaches, and she thought they could help each other heal. But they did so much more than that. 

 Emma fell for Liam and she fell hard. He’s much like a teddy bear, only soft on the inside, not the outside. He’s kind and loving and warm and best of all, he makes her laugh. When she’d discovered how good he was in bed on top of all his amazing qualities, she thought he was too good to be true. He seemed like the total package. He is the total package. But still, she’d kept waiting for the other shoe to drop; it never did, though. Or at least, it hasn’t dropped. yet.

 Once she's under the shower stream, she’s wetting her hair and singing the first song that comes to mind. Titanium by David Guetta. 

  “You shout it out, but I can’t hear a word you say. . .”

 After nine years, she still sings this damn song. But it’s so perfect for the shower because the lyrics are ones she can easily belt out, the words echoing beautifully off the bathroom walls.

 She’s been singing in the shower since she was eight years old. Her brother would always pound on the bathroom door when she was taking a shower, and yell for her to stop. It was like that when they lived in the same house growing up and it was like that after she moved in with him and Mary Margaret. She has to admit, she misses annoying the hell out of her brother. 

  Bang, bang, bang.

 “Would you stop your bloody awful singing?!" Killian shouts through the door. “Some people are actually trying to sleep around here!”

 Now that she lives with Liam, she has his pain in the ass brother to annoy. As fun as that is, it’s not really the same.

 Emma doesn’t stop though. Instead, she grins to herself and lathers shampoo into her hair, closing her eyes as she makes sure to sing even louder and more obnoxious.

  “You criticize, but all your bullets ricochet. Shoot me down, but I get up. . .”

 Ever since she moved in with her boyfriend eight months ago, Killian has been a pesky thorn in her side. He’s been nothing but a nuisance. From leaving his dirty dishes in the sink to sleeping with a different woman almost every night to pissing her off every chance he gets. He’s always trying to bring her down, always finding new ways to push her buttons. She’s not sure exactly why it all started. Maybe because he’s held a grudge against her since she chose his brother over him. Or maybe because he thinks she’s trying to steal his brother away from him. But either way, she’s not giving him the satisfaction of letting him get to her. Or at least letting him know he gets to her. 

 Emma starts shouting out the lyrics, each word louder than the previous one, purposely trying to get a rise out of him, just like he always does to her. 

 “Shoot me down, but I won’t fall! I am Tit-aaaaan-iiiiiiiuuuuuum! Shoot me down, but I won’t—”

 The whine of the faucet interrupts her, and suddenly she's shivering, no longer feeling the hot water spraying her skin. What the fuck? One second she's rinsing her hair and the next, the bathroom door is slamming shut and she’s just standing there in the bathtub with shampoo dripping down her face and no water to rinse it out with. 

 That damn bastard turned off the shower!

 “What the hell?!” she screeches, her words garbled when the shampoo drips into her mouth. She spits it out and spins around, blindly reaching for the towel on the rack, yanking it off the bar and wiping her face with it. “You asshole!”

 She steps out of the tub, blood bubbling under her skin as she wraps the towel around her body. Okay, pounding on the bathroom door is one thing, but shutting off the water while she’s taking a shower is a whole different level of asshole for Killian Jones! And she won’t stand for it. She’s not letting him get away with this.  

 She marches out of the bathroom and down the hall, leaving a dripping wet trail of soapy water behind her. But she doesn’t give a fuck at the moment. She rips his door open and storms into his room without any sort of grace. She hurries over to his alarm clock, which he leaves on his dresser across the room so he'll have to get up to turn it off. He does it so he won’t be tempted to hit the snooze button and fall back asleep. 

 Killian’s in his bed with the covers over his head as Emma turns on the music and cranks up the volume. She immediately spins around and scurries out of his room, her heart hammering in her chest, but when she makes it to the doorway, she can feel his hand gripping her arm as he turns her around and presses her firmly against the wall, just outside his door.  

 She loses her breath.

 He doesn’t say anything at all; he just stares at her, a mixture of emotions written all over his face. She can’t tell if he’s pissed or irritated, or if the look on his face is just pure hatred for her. Or if it’s something else entirely.

 Emma loses a breath when he closes the gap between them until their bodies are pressed together, his face inches from hers. He still doesn’t murmur a word, just stares at her. 

 She gulps when his eyes flicker over her face, and it almost seems like he’s going to. . .

 No, no, no, that can’t be. She knows for a fact she’s just imagining things, because Killian would never try to kiss her. Not only because his brother is dating her, but because he hates her with every fiber of his being; he’s never said it out loud, but she knows deep down he does.

 Killian’s still staring at her and she’s so stunned in her spot, she can’t even move. As his eyes move to her lips, she swears she stops breathing, her heart pounding in her ear. He hasn’t looked at her with anything apart from hatred since the night they met.

 He quickly amends his stare, his eyes snapping to hers, regret clouding his face. “I’m sorry,” he whispers huskily and releases her, dashing to his room and slamming the door behind him. 

  What the hell was that?

 He may have been able to move, but she feels like she’s superglued to the wall. She can still feel his palms on her wrists like he’s still pinning her, but he’s not.

 “What the bloody hell was all that racket?” 

 The sound of Liam’s voice makes her heart jump into her throat, and she has to peel herself from the wall. When she does, she feels a million times lighter. She blows out a long breath. A breath she feels like she’s been holding this whole time. She turns to Liam and gets on her tiptoes as she wraps her arms around the back of his neck, kissing him chastely on the lips. “Nothing, babe, it was just your annoying brother hollering at me for singing again and telling me how awful of a singer I am.” 

 “Don’t listen to him. You sing beautifully,” Liam assures her sweetly, kissing the tip of her nose. “I love your singing.”

 Emma smiles at his compliments, but her face twists at the memories of Killian turning off the water on her. “I never do listen to him, but that asshole shut off the shower on me while I was in there. And I had shampoo in my hair and it got in my eyes and mouth.”

 She can see the anger spiraling through her boyfriend, his features appalled. “He did what?!” Liam lunges toward Killian’s door, but Emma moves in front of him and places her hands on his chest to stop him. 

 “It’s fine. I got him back.” She smirks. “I turned on his music and cranked up the volume. 

 “I know, I could hear everything,” he grumbles, his eyes focused on Killian’s door. Emma’s still standing in front of him so he won’t go charging in there, but he manages to pound on the door. “What the fuck, Killian?! You don’t go into the bathroom while Emma’s using it! She lives here, too, you wanker!”

 “I already told her I was sorry!” he calls through the door.

 Emma furrows her brows. She thought Killian had said he was sorry for pinning her against the wall and almost kissing her. Or at least, that’s what it seemed like.

 “Sorry, love,” Liam murmurs, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her forehead. “My brother’s a pompous arse sometimes.”

 She can’t disagree with that. This is far from the first time Killian’s been a jerk to her and it won’t be the last. She wishes she and Liam could get a place of their own. What she wouldn’t give to be able to get up in the morning and prance around the apartment half-naked, or even naked if she so chose to be, not having to worry about annoying roommates who only stir up trouble and tell her she’s an awful singer. She knows her boyfriend wants to be close to his brother, but still, how does Liam not get sick of Killian’s shit?

 “It’s fine,” she assures him, looking up into his warm blue eyes. “I just can’t wait until we get a place of our own. Just you and me.” 

 A serene smile stretches over Liam’s lips as he gazes into her eyes and caresses her cheek. “I can’t wait either, baby.” He turns her toward the wall, pressing her back against it, much like Killian had done a few moments ago. Emma moans when she feels Liam’s thickness digging into her thigh. “Then I would get to fuck you whenever I wanted without worrying about my little brother pounding on the wall, telling us to stop.” He lifts her up and she instinctively wraps her legs around his waist as he buries his face in the crook of her neck and gives her a few gentle thrusts. Emma tilts her head back and moans, loving the way his cock feels pressed against her center. He’s wearing boxers, but she can still feel every inch of him.

 “That would be amazing,” she murmurs breathlessly as he leaves a trail of kisses down her neck. 

 “But it might not be such a good idea because then I would never want to leave. I’d want to stay home and make love to you all day.”

 Emma laughs as his words vibrate against her skin. “You’re insatiable.”

 “Can’t help it, love. You’re so bloody gorgeous and perfect. And when you have something rare and precious, you hold onto it and never let it go.”

 Emma’s heart warms, a blissful smile curving her lips. Liam’s sweet lines, no matter how cheesy or sappy, are just some of the reasons why she fell in love with him. He always knows what to say to make her feel special. Emma fists her hands in his hair and pulls his face to hers, capturing his lips for a heated kiss.

 Killian’s bedroom door opens, and he barges through the hallway, bursting their cozy, quiet bubble. “I can’t wait for you two to get your own place either. Then I won’t have to hear you two fucking every goddamn second of the day,” he grumbles as he marches down the hall.

 “Oh, like we’ve never heard you fucking one of your many conquests!” Emma hollers after him.

 “Whatever, I’m taking a shower. I’m late for work and you’re taking too damn long.” 

 Emma’s eyes widen when he disappears into the bathroom, and she releases herself from Liam’s hold and follows Killian, but before she can stop him, he slams the door in her face.

 She’s seeing red as she wiggles the knob and is even more pissed when it’s locked. “You asshole! I have to rinse the shampoo out of my hair since you shut off my shower before I could!”

 He answers by turning on his heavy metal music.

 Emma lets out a frustrated scream and pounds on the door. So much for being at work on time today.

 She’s fucking pissed and about to kick the door, but Liam’s warm arms instantly put her at ease. 

 “Come on, baby, don’t let him get under your skin. Let me make you breakfast while you wait for the shower.”

 Emma relents and goes to her room to grab her bathrobe. She rinses her hair off in the kitchen sink as Liam starts the coffee.

 ~*~

 Killian’s still cursing to himself when Emma’s in the shower for the second time that morning. He tugs on his shirt, hating himself for what he’d done earlier in the hallway. He never should’ve pinned her against the wall and almost kissed the bloody hell out of her, but he’d reacted before he could control himself. 

 When he had pressed her into the wall, she was standing there, dripping wet in nothing but a towel. He can still see the wet spots on the carpet where her hair had dripped to the floor—in his bedroom when she marched in here to turn on his music and outside his door. He’d damn near drooled when he gazed upon the soft swell of her slick breasts, and couldn’t help but notice her pebbled nipples underneath the thin cotton. He could feel her taut nipples against his chest when he pressed himself into her. She was so fucking sexy, and he wanted to pick her up and carry her to his room and have his way with her. Or seeing that she was naked underneath the towel, he wanted to lift her up and just take her there against the wall. It would have been so easy to slide inside of her and just fuck her senseless. Neither of those scenarios was an option, obviously.

 Killian sits on the edge of his bed, sighing into his hands. As much as he pretends to and wishes he actually hated her, he’s unfortunately in love with her. After he found her in his kitchen wearing Liam’s shirt a year ago, he did everything he could to forget about her. He's tried sleeping with other women, he still tries that method, but it never bloody works. It only makes him wish those women were Emma. It makes him want her more. It makes him feel more lonely than he already is.

 Maybe he would've been able to forget about her if she hadn't kept showing up here. And it was bad enough when she and Liam had their sleepovers all the time, but then she moved in eight months ago because she was sick of living with her brother, and Liam was sick of not waking up next to Emma every morning. 

 Killian hates living here with Liam and Emma. He hates having to hear them fuck in the bedroom next to his; he hates having to hear them speak to each other like they’re so fucking in love. It makes him sick. 

 He hates having to witness every milestone in their relationship. He had to listen every time Liam went on about how he was falling for Emma and how she was his soulmate. He had to hear about it when Liam told him he had finally professed his love for her; he had to hear about it when Liam said he could no longer stand living without her, and how he wanted to ask her to move in with him. Liam sought Killian's approval, which he reluctantly gave, and had to hear about Emma’s reaction and how excited she was when she said yes.

 Killian’s had to listen to every conversation Liam and Emma have had when they’re all home at the same time, he’s had to watch them feed each other, he’s had to witness one of them going into the kitchen, grabbing a can of Reddi Whip and heading back to their room countless times. For the past year, he’s had a front-row seat to Liam’s and Emma’s relationship, and he’s hated every fucking second of it.

 In the beginning, Killian had hoped their relationship would be temporary. Emma had been cheated on, too, just like Liam, so they had that in common and it was something they bonded over in the beginning. Killian thought they both just needed to cleanse themselves from their cheating exes, and that they were using each other to do that, but nope. What they had in the beginning went beyond helping each other heal. And Killian can’t blame his brother for wanting something more with Emma. She’s the whole fucking package and Killian knows this just as well as Liam does. It’s the reason why Killian hasn’t been able to tame his feelings for her, even though he knows she’s completely off-limits. 

 He’s happy for Liam, he really is. He’s glad Liam found someone as amazing as Emma. He’s glad Liam is happy. He just wishes he’d never met her at the bar that night. He wishes he’d never set his sights on her so that maybe then he wouldn’t be pining for his brother’s girlfriend. Maybe then he wouldn’t be so head over heels for her. But then again, maybe he would still feel the same way about her, no matter how or when he met her.

 Maybe it’s his fault though. He knows his feelings for her would be so much easier to deal with if he didn’t live with her.

 There have been so many times he told himself he was finding another place to live, but at the end of the day, he talked himself out of it because why should he leave? This was his apartment long before Liam even met Emma. Hell, this was Killian’s apartment before Liam moved in with him. 

 Killian moved here after he graduated from high school and his first roommate wouldn’t leave after not paying his share of the rent for six months. Killian could have gone to court, filled out the paperwork and served him with an eviction notice, which would’ve given his roommate a month to move out. But Killian had another idea in mind that would speed up the process, and all he had to do was beg Liam to go along with it. He got the idea from watching an episode of Friends. The One Where Eddie Won't Go. Chandler couldn’t get his annoying, nut job of a roommate to leave, so when Eddie returns to the apartment the next day, the lock on the door has been changed, Chandler and Joey pretend they don’t know Eddie and they act as though Joey never left. 

 So Killian had something similar in mind. Liam showed up at his apartment and went into the roommate’s bedroom. Together, they gathered his things and started moving them to the front lawn. When the roommate returned later that day, the locks had been changed and Killian opened the door after he heard the incessant pounding and pretended he didn’t remember having another roommate besides his brother. When the guy refused to leave, Liam stood at the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, and his intimidating height and size compared to the scrawny, short lad who stood in the hallway, finally left with his tail between his legs. 

 When Liam went back to his and his girlfriend’s flat that night, he walked in on her while she was banging some other guy in the bed they shared. Not wanting to be reminded of what he’d witnessed when he slept in his bed every night, he’s the one who left and never came back. Liam and Killian have lived together in this flat ever since then. And they never heard from Killian’s old roommate ever again.

 So, why should Killian be the one to leave? 

 Then again, if he stays, his feelings for Emma might become even more difficult to shake off. 

 Right, like he could shake them off. If he could, then he would’ve done that long ago.

 ~*~

 “Killian, can I talk to you for a moment?” Liam asks the next day when he steps into the apartment, shutting the door behind him. It’s Saturday, so neither of them is working, and Emma is out shopping with her sister-in-law.

 Killian’s carrying a mug of freshly brewed coffee as he leaves the kitchen, catching the serious expression on his brother's face and in his tone. He's a bit nervous if he’s being honest, certain Liam’s going to chew him out for shutting off Emma’s shower yesterday. Killian was out the door before Liam could say anything to his face about it. He supposes he deserves the lecture, though; he was kind of an arsehole to her. Okay, he was a huge arsehole. But she was being so loud. And yes, she has the voice of an angel, but it doesn't give her the right to wake up the entire apartment building. Prepared for an arse chewing, Killian raises his free hand in surrender. “I promise I didn’t see anything. I was only trying to get her to stop singing—”

 Liam shakes his head before Killian can finish, and drags a hand through his hair, sighing deeply. “That’s not what I want to talk to you about.”

 “Oh. Okay, what is it then?” Killian asks, noticing how nervous Liam appears to be.

 Liam motions to the living room, so they both head to the sofa and take a seat. He draws in a shaky breath and reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling out a velvet box.

 Killian’s eyes widen in horror as he stares at the object. 

  No, please tell me that’s not what I think it is. Please, Liam. Don’t make it so.

 Killian gulps thickly, unable to remove his eyes from the box. He’s never prayed for anything in his entire twenty-three years of living on this earth, but right now he’s praying that whatever’s in that box is not a diamond ring.

 But judging by the smile cracking Liam’s lips, he already knows the words on his tongue before he speaks them. “I’m asking Emma to be my wife.”

  Heart meet dagger.

 Killian feels like the wind has just been knocked out of him, all of the air in the room suddenly gone.

 Liam cracks open the box, showing Killian the ring. It’s a princess cut diamond with a white-gold band. “Do you think she’ll like it?”

 Liam’s waiting for some sort of approval, but all Killian can do is stare at the ring and feel a stab of jealousy. He knows he should be happy and supportive, but he still can’t help but want Emma to be his and not his brother’s. He knows Liam deserves a woman like Emma, though, and she deserves someone like Liam. He’s a good man, and if Killian were forced to pick someone besides himself, he’d pick Liam every time. And if he had to pick someone for Liam, there's no doubt he’d pick her. But that doesn’t make this any less easy.

 Killian clears the frog from his throat. “It’s stunning,” he says with a smile, trying to keep his tone even. “It’s stunning, just like Emma.”

 “That’s exactly what I think too, little brother.” He blows out a wobbly breath. “I’m so bloody nervous about asking her to marry me. We’ve only been together for a year. Well, almost a year, but I know she’s the one for me, Killian. I know it deep in my bones. I’ve known since the night I met her.”

 Killian wants to say he knows the feeling. 

 How is it even possible he and Liam felt the exact same way about the exact same woman that exact same night? 

 She made her choice though, regardless of the chemistry between her and Killian.

 He also knows how Liam feels because, apart from that first week he and Emma were together, he hasn’t exactly kept Killian out of the loop. So Killian’s known every goddamn step of the way how Liam has felt about her. “How will you ask her?”

 “Well . . .” Liam runs his hand through his hair nervously and stares off into space, as though he’s playing the scenario in his head. “For our one-year anniversary, I want to have a picnic on the lake where we went on our first date. Which reminds me . . .” Liam looks at Killian, appearing a bit skittish about something, “I wanted to ask you if I can borrow your motorcycle.”

 Killian furrows his brows. “But you hate my bike. When I first got it, you kept telling me how dangerous it was, and when I taught you how to ride it, you said you never wanted to be on it again.”

 “I know… but I want this proposal to be special, and I always catch Emma staring at your bike whenever we’re getting into my car.”

 “You do?”

 “Aye. And she’s mentioned she’s never ridden a motorcycle before, so I wanted her to have that experience. I want to do something with her she might enjoy before I pop the big question, you know? So she doesn’t think I’ll be one of those vanilla husbands who doesn’t know how to have fun.”

 Killian’s heart clenches. How many times has he dreamt about taking Emma for a ride on his motorcycle? How many times has he dreamt of having her arms wrapped around him, holding him tight as they rode his bike? 

 “Then after we eat and have some wine, we’ll walk along the beach, and when the moment feels right, I’ll get down on one knee.”

 Killian swallows hard. The scenario Liam is painting sounds absolutely perfect, and he knows Emma will love it. He knows Emma’s not a grand gesture type of lass, and what Liam has planned is the perfect combination of grand and simple. 

 “So, what do you say, can I use it?” 

 When Killian witnesses the spark in Liam’s eyes, he can’t help but say, “Of course. You can use it for as long as you’d like.”

 “Thank you, Killian,” he says appreciatively, clasping his hands together as he leans forward and perches his elbows on his knees. “I also have another favor to ask of you.”

 Killian quirks a brow as he sets his mug on the coffee table. “I’m afraid to ask.” He laughs, but he actually is afraid to ask.

 Liam chuckles. “Relax, I only wanted to ask if you’d be my best man. You’re not only my brother . . .” his face grows serious as he looks Killian dead in the eyes, “you’re my best friend, and I couldn’t imagine anyone else standing up there beside me as I marry the woman of my dreams. I imagine it’ll take a while to plan the wedding, and the earliest it would be is next year, but—” 

 “I’d be honored,” Killian cuts him off, swallowing hard. It feels like Liam just drove the dagger deeper into his chest. 

 As honored as he is for Liam to ask him to be his best man, he can’t stand at the altar and watch the woman of his dreams marry his brother. He just can’t. But he can’t possibly tell Liam that. 

 A big grin overtakes Liam’s face as he pulls Killian in for a big hug. 

 “I’m happy for you,” Killian expresses hoarsely, trying to ignore how crushed he feels. “You deserve it, brother,” he says genuinely. 

 “Thank you, Killian. That means a lot,” Liam says as they break the hug. “Now just hope I can grow some balls to get down on one knee, and pray she says yes.” 

 “She’ll say yes, I know she will, Liam,” he says sincerely, patting his brother on the shoulder. He knows deep down Liam and Emma are perfect for each other, no matter how much he wants to deny it.

 “You really think so?” Liam is asking hopefully. 

 And right now, Killian can’t help but smile. If Liam were proposing to any other woman, Killian would be so bloody happy for him. So he shoves away the fact that it’s Emma they’re talking about so he can just be there for his brother like Liam needs him to be. “Aye. There is no one more perfect for you than her.”

 Liam grins from ear to ear. “At least we can agree on one thing,” he chuckles. “I love her so bloody much.” His face suddenly clouds with something Killian can’t quite put his finger on, and once again, Liam appears to be nervous. “That brings me to the final thing I wanted to talk to you about.”

 “Okay,” Killian gulps. He has a bad feeling about what the next thing might be, though it can’t possibly be worse than telling him he’s proposing to the same woman Killian’s completely in love with or asking Killian to stand beside Liam as he watches Emma marry someone else.

 “I need you to be nice to Emma,” he says in a condemning tone. “She thinks you hate her.”

 Guilt clenches Killian’s heart, and as much as he knows he should be nice to the woman who will be Liam’s future wife, he knows agreeing to be nice to Emma is like agreeing to jump into quicksand.

 For the past year, Killian’s had to pretend to hate Emma because he knows if he and Emma end up becoming friends, then he’ll be tempted to act on his feelings for her, and he can’t let that happen. He can’t do that to Liam. So, there’s only one other option.

 Killian has to move out, and he needs to move out soon. Until that happens, he has to throw on a smile and pretend everything is hunky-dory. “I don’t hate her,” he manages, trying to shove all of his emotions down his throat. 

 “Good, then act like it. If she says yes when I propose, she’ll be your sister-in-law soon, so get used to that idea.”

 Killian tears his gaze from Liam, unable to look at his brother right now. He feels like his ears are bleeding. Like his heart is bleeding. Liam has no idea how much his words just gutted him. He could never get used to being Emma’s . . .

 No, he can’t even think about the idea. He could never consider Emma as his sister-in-law, and there’s no way he could ever be a brother figure to her. There’s just no bloody way. He’s wanked off while thinking about her for crying out fucking loud.

 “You don’t have to worry, I promise I’ll be nicer to Emma.” Even as Killian makes the promise, he can feel himself being pulled in by the quicksand.

 “Thank you, Killian.”

 When they stand, Killian tells him he’s going to the gym. He needs to relieve some of the pain bubbling inside his chest and figure out how the bloody hell he’s going to win this internal battle inside him, or if he ever will. He should have seen this coming though. He knows Liam has been serious about Emma from the beginning.

 He changes into his gym clothes, and once the cool breeze hits his face, once Liam is no longer near him, he can finally breathe, but even then, the surrounding air feels paper-thin. He’s barely able to suck in enough oxygen to make his heart not feel so heavy.

 He puts on his helmet and hops on his bike, driving out of the parking lot and trying to figure out how the bloody hell to get out of this predicament.

 As much as he loves Liam, he can’t fucking do this. Any of it. He can’t be Liam’s best man, he can’t give a best man speech and tell everyone how bloody happy he is for the bride and groom while he’ll actually be dying inside. He can’t live with them for one more bloody second, and he sure as hell can’t be her brother-in-law.

 Which leaves Killian with only one choice.

 He needs to get out of Storybrooke. And he needs to get out soon.

  Tagging people who have shown interest. Let me know if you would like to be added or if I missed you. @itsfabianadocarmo @resident-of-storybrooke @snowbellewells @onceuponaprincessworld @viajandosinalas @teamhook @captainswan-shipper88 @jamif​ @katielovesstarcrossedlovers @uhthreeyuh @lfh1226-linda @babyyouremyqueen @sthonour @julesep3026 @fairytalewhispersinmyheart @andiirivera @wefoundloveunderthelight @wickedsw4n @eleveneitherway @eherron14 @ouatpost @transparentclodsludgeweasel @stahlop​

[kazledazzel]

Hi! I was wondering, for the au + trope + prompt game: can I request the Merry thieves in the hogwarts au? I can totally see them as marauders! Maybe prompt 23? but honestly any one of them would be cool 💕💕💕

Thank you for the prompt! I hope you like this. I tried to stick to the Merry Thieves as much as I could, but I did end up wandering to Thomastair... so I’m sorry about that, but I have been wanting to do a Shadowhunters Hogwarts Au for ages, so I plan to do a series of one shots for this au. (I want to do more Thomastair, Blackdale, The Merry Thieves, Gracetopher, etc...). Anyways, I hope you enjoy this. I have a part two of this if anyone is interested. 

Click here to read on Ao3 or keep reading below :)

“Are you sure this is legal?” Thomas asked, peering down at the quidditch field from where he sat on the bleachers next to James Herondale. The two gryffindors sat together, supervising the other half of the friend group.

 The pitch was empty, and the group had taken this opportunity to sneak down and test out Matthew’s new broom. Matthew Fairchild was a Slytherin who was as ambitious as he was cunning, and had jumped at the opportunity for a better broom. His old one, though a cleverly crafted broom made by Matthew’s father, had suffered a rather disastrous encounter with Alastair Carstairs, and was long in the bin. It had just so happened that Christopher had been in the process of making a broom, better than any Nimbus or Firebolt. He had accomplished one of his lifelong goals; to combine magic, science and mechanics. 

 Only Thomas seemed to be worried about this experiment. He was proud of his cousin, but there was often a thin line between success and disaster when it came to Christopher’s inventions. However, Christopher did seem utterly and completely focused on his latest invention. He was so lost in his work, he seemed to have failed to noticed that he was wearing the wrong tie. Grace Blackthorn was probably in the castle somewhere, searching her room for a green tie and instead finding a Ravenclaw blue one.

 “I am sure-,” Matthew started, giving Thomas false hope. “- that what the Ministry of Magic doesn't know won't kill them,”

 Thomas frowned. He turned to James for backup, but he had his head in his book. Thomas scowled, and returned to his babysitting.

 “It’s almost done,” Christopher said, raising his voice loud enough so that both guys on the bleachers could here. He raised his wand and cast a silent charm. He cleared his throat. “Matthew and Gentlemen-,”

 “Kit!” Matthew demanded. “Are you implying that I do not qualify as a gentleman?”

 Christopher shrugged, but James took this opportunity to poke at his best friend. 

 “Anna told me otherwise,” James called down. “Did you or did you not have a rather scandalous encounter with a Hufflepuff prefect last week?”

 “Hufflepuff? Alastair Carstairs’ house? Really, Jamie? I would never,” Matthew lowered his voice. “It was a Ravenclaw,”

 James laughed, while Thomas only smiled. Although the situation was funny, he was getting rather tired of Matthew’s hatred for Alastair Carstairs. Was all this nonsense really over a broken broom, or did it run deeper? Thomas didn’t know, but he needed an explanation before he could hate Alastair Carstairs. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as James and Matthew thought. 

Then again, maybe Thomas was just being silly. If he was honest with himself, he’d admit that he had strong feelings for Alastair Carstairs. Strong feelings that caused great confusion, and Thomas couldn’t tell if those strong feelings were born out of love or hate. He’d thought about talking about it with Christopher, but Kit hadn’t really picked up on the fact that Thomas may lean more towards boy, nor the fact that his science goggles were upside down. God bless Christopher and his obliviousness. 

 Then again, Christopher may have been oblivious, but he wasn’t stupid. In fact, he was one of the smartest people Thomas knew. The sorting hat had known it when placing him in Ravenclaw, and even the Slytherin prefect Grace Blackthorn had known it. Not only did Grace seem to be aware of Christopher’s genius, she seemed to be falling in love with it. Grace Blackthorn, who was so set on maintaining her reputation of being sensible and too mature for love in all its silliness, had fallen for a softie like Christopher. Thomas often found it funny; plenty of quidditch stars from all the different houses fancied Grace Blackthorn, but she was too busy looking at Christopher with cartoon hearts in her eyes to notice. 

Thomas was constantly seeing romantic love. He saw it every time Cordelia Carstairs had walked past, making James blush red like a tomato and leaving him stutter for five minutes as he tried to remember his own name. He saw it every time he went looking for Lucie only to find her writing her manuscript with I heart Jesse Blackthorn and Lucie Blackthorn written around the edges. He saw it most of all in the way Anna and Ariadne talked about each other. Thomas was constantly surrounded by his friends and their lovesick hearts, and yet he couldn’t figure out his own.

 “James, and Matthew,” Thomas said, glaring at both boys harmlessly. “Let Kit finish,”

 “Thank you, Thomas” Christopher began again. “As I was saying, I present to you all, The Lightwood Flamethrower,”

 James chuckled softly. “Lightwood. I get it. Light-wood. Brooms are made from wood,”

 The rest of the group turned to look at James, who was slowly realising the obvious. He slouched, as if he was trying to make himself smaller.

 “Come on then. Let’s try it out!” Christopher said enthusiastically, gesturing for Matthew to get on the broom. He rambled on excitedly. “It should go faster than any Nimbus or even Fire Bolt, and it has a spacial awareness feature so that you’ll be able to tell if there are any bludgers coming your way. It started producing sparks last night, but that probably won’t happen anymore-,”

 “Probably?” Thomas asked worriedly. “Have you ran any safety tests?”

 Matthew grinned with bright green eyes. “What do you think we’re doing now?” He began to mount the broom, and Thomas felt he might go into cardiac arrest. Matthew picked up a helmet and put it on his head. “Besides, I’m wearing a helmet,”

 “That’s great Math, but you haven’t strapped it on right,” James pointed out. 

 “Oh dear god,” Thomas said, exasperated. He buried his face in his hands, while James patted his shoulder. 

 “Don’t look now,” James said, his voice low. Thomas heard Matthew give an annoyed groan, and he looked up from his depressed state. He spotted the cause of Matthew’s annoyance right away. 

 At the entrance of the quidditch pitch was the entire Hufflepuff team. Leading the team was Cordelia Carstairs, in full quidditch gear and carrying her broom, the Cortana two thousand, as if it were a mighty gold sword. To be fair, it was the greatest broom one could buy. They were extremely rare, and had been discontinued. Thomas recalled how Christopher hadn’t compared his own broom to Cordelia’s. The Cortana two thousand was faster than any other broom, and could change direction easier than even a Fire Bolt. With Cordelia as their Captain, Hufflepuff was a hard team for any house to beat. It didn’t matter if the weather was against them, Cordelia flourished in rain, hail, sleet and snow.

 Next to Cordelia was Lucie, who stuck out like a sore thumb in her Ravenclaw robes. She didn’t really need to be there, but she often went along anyways to support Cordelia. 

 “And to look at Jesse Blackthorn,” James had once said to her, with both the disapproval of a protective older brother and with the satisfaction of teasing on a sibling. 

 “Very funny, Jamie. How long did it take for you to form a full sentence the last time Cordelia spoke to you?” Lucie has snapped back, while Matthew burst out laughing. 

 Alastair Carstairs wasn’t far behind his sister. Being the older sibling, some might have thought Alastair would be annoyed that the position went to his younger sibling. If he was, he didn’t seem it. He seemed perfecting content being Head Boy. Not that Thomas payed much attention to Alastair’s behaviour, or the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, or the way he-

 “I’m going to do it,” James whispered to Thomas, interrupting his thoughts. James closed his book and practically bounced out of his siting position. “I’m finally going to talk to Cordelia Carstairs,”

“Okay, Jamie,” Thomas said, standing up and following his friend down the bleachers. “Just remember that your name is James Herondale, not-,” Thomas made a series of spluttering noises. James blushed.

 “What’s all this about, Carstairs?” Matthew demanded, glaring at Alastair. Cordelia didn’t seem to realise the question wasn’t directed at her. She seemed a little hurt. 

 “Quidditch practice,” Cordelia replied, eyebrows raised. “What’s wrong with that?”

 “Oh, sorry, I-,”

 Cordelia had her head held high as Matthew struggled to explain he was speaking to her brother. Alastair looked amused, as Thomas tried to rip his gaze away from him. He often found it amusing how Matthew could hate one Carstairs so much, and be fighting with his best friend over the attention of the other. 

 By now James was my Matthew’s side, and had gained a new confidence from Matthew’s humiliation. 

 “That wasn’t very nice, Matthew,” James gloated. He was looking at Cordelia hopefully. Cordelia broke away her gaze, and Thomas could see the scarlet colour against her brown skin. Cordelia Carstairs was blushing over James Herondale.

 Maybe Thomas wasn’t as fluent in love as he thought he was. 

 “We booked the pitch,” Alastair said, moving to his sisters side. Matthew seemed to have forgotten his desire for Cordelia immediately, and was now looking at Alastair as if he was the Devil himself coming to drag Matthew back to Hell with him. Not that Cordelia noticed. She and James were both stealing glances and giving each other soppy looks. It truly was a wonder that they didn’t know their love was requited. Lucie was making her way towards Thomas and beaming. No doubt she was about to write James into her newest chapter of the Beautiful Cordelia.

 “It’s true,” Lucie said, rolling her eyes at Matthew and Alastair’s petty feud. Her and Thomas had discussed it often, but neither of them knew the root of the rivalry other than the fact that Alastair had once broken Matthew's broom after they both collided in a quidditch match, but that had been an accident. Perhaps their hatred had always been there, and this had just triggered it. Still, even that didn't add up. Matthew wasn't a hateful person. That was something all the Merry Thieves were aware off, especially James. All of Thomas' friends were like little lights in his life, and Matthew was sometimes the shiniest. Despite coming across as overly charismatic or vain, Matthew never failed to radiate what good was in him. He was constantly willing to be the guinea pig in Christopher's experiments, and never let his obvious crush on Cordelia get in the way of his friendship with James. Thomas sometimes wondered if James was even aware of Matthew's feelings for Cordelia.

 Then there was Alastair. Mysterious Alastair, whom Thomas had never cared for until his fourth year at Hogwarts. Up until then, Thomas had known nothing of the other boy save the fact that he was a fifth year Hufflepuff with a repuation, that his friends with Clive Cartwright and Charles Fairchild, Matthew's annoying older brother, and that he and his posse sometimes liked to pick on first years. It wasn't until that one day in Third Year, when James had been locked up in the infirmary with a broken leg and Thomas had been sent on the Honeydukes run while Christopher, Matthew, Lucie and Cordelia had stayed behind to keep James company that Thomas even spoke to Alastair. It had been snowing outside and it had been difficult for Thomas to see where he was going. He accidentally walked straight into Alastair as he entered the shop. Thomas had been almost terrified; Alastair had been so intimidating when he'd had his two friends by his side before. He hadn't seemed intimidating that day in Honeydukes, though. He'd seemed lonely, and as Thomas bent to help Alastair pick up his chocolate he could see that Alastair's dark brown eyes were brimmed with red. Sometimes people weren't scary; they were just sad.

 Thomas, being Thomas, had asked the other boy if he was alright. Instead of brushing him off, Alastair had admitted he needed a bit of a distraction. This led to casual conversation, and eventually the two ended up chatting over chocolate cauldrons and fudge flies. They parted on friendly terms, and had a few encounters after. These encounters were a secret, of course, and mostly accidental. Still, Alastair seemed to enjoy Thomas' company. Thomas couldn't help but feel a glimmer of satisfaction every time Alastair laughed at something he said. 

 These accidental encounters became less frequent when Alastair and Charles became a couple. Thomas tried not to feel annoyed that he'd barely spoken to Alastar all year. It wasn't like he was in love with Alastar, was he? Besides, Alastair was a year older. There was no point in falling for someone who was going to leave Hogwarts in a year.

 "We just wanted to try out Matthew's new broom," Thomas said, trying to avoid an argument. "We didn't realise the pitch was booked,"

 "The Lightwood Flamethrower," Christopher said proudly. Cordelia's eyes widened slightly.

 "Does it work?" Cordelia asked, making her way towards the broom. Alastair looked a little put off, but then his eyes met Thomas'. Thomas could have sworn that Alastair's expression softened. 

 "We don't know yet," James and Matthew said, simultaneously. Both boys blushed. Cordelia smiled.

 "Well," Cordelia said, her smile radiant. "Shall we try it out and see?" 

[innocentbi-stander]

just stumbled across your blog in my conquest to consume all feral and bamf Jaskier content within 24 hours, and i read your headcanons for necromancer Jaskier and was wondering if you had anymore, or if you had a small ficlet involving some sort of necromancer Jaskier?? (i also saw your demigod Jaskier, where he was a son of Hades, and LOVED IT) if you don't, or aren't into that trope, that's okay. i absolutely love what you've already written. god-tier writing, truly

Hi there! I’m so glad you’ve enjoyed my writing! I do have a small little ficlet that I wrote that I posted on ao3 featuring necromancer Jaskier, I’ll link it below! However I’m also never above writing more necromancer Jaskier content, so here you are:

Fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25272997

______________

Sometimes Jaskier cursed the day Death had made a pact with his unborn soul, tying him to the immortal life of a necromancer and all of the bizarre powers that came with it.

Today was not one of those days.

Because when you’ve been locked in a cage in the depths of some decrepit castle after being ambushed on the road with your witcher boyfriend and badass witch friend, those powers really come in handy. 

The bard pulled himself up into a sitting position on the cold stone floor, taking a look at his surroundings.

He was clearly in the dungeon of a long forgotten keep, by the look of the worn stone walls and rusted bars. The room was dark, and shadows flickered in the light of the few torches along the wall.

Jaskier cursed to himself as he felt the ache of his head, where he had been knocked unconscious during the attack.

The attack. The attack on the path that he had most certainly not been alone for.

A look around the cells confirmed the location of Geralt and Yennefer, each located in their own cells across the room. Clearly their attackers had deemed them the more worthy threat, as Geralt was weighed down in chains and Yennefer sported her own pair of silver cuffs decorated in runes. Magic suppressants. 

Jaskier scoffed. They hadn’t even bothered to use rope to bind his arms, too confident that the supposedly human bard would be little more than a nuisance. It was their mistake.

The pounding of his head moved into the background of his thoughts, and Jaskier became increasingly aware of a pain in his stomach. His fingers that caressed the area came away covered in blood. Shit.

Flashes of memory reminded him of the man who had run him through with his sword when one hit to the skull hadn’t stopped him from fighting back. On any other human this wound would have been fatal. For Jaskier, it meant a bothersome hole through his torso for a few days, and a very fussy witcher poking at his bandages and offering bowl and bowl of soup.

Yay necromancy powers. 

The bard lazily scanned the inside of his cell, looking for anything that might aid them in their mistake. Not that he necessarily needed any assistance, but Jaskier wasn’t fond of revealing the true depths of his powers to anyone, much less some low budget crew of hired bandits. He preferred to keep his abilities known to the few, better to be underestimated than overtaken.

He spared a glance over to the corner where Geralt and Yennefer lay. Jaskier sighed, a long and bothersome sound. For such a great witcher and even mightier witch couldn’t they wake up a little bit faster? He’d prefer being able to break them out when they could walk on their own, Jaskier didn’t think he could haul either of them back to their campsite. 

As if on cue a small moan sounded from the other side of the dungeon.

Jaskier glanced up to meet violet eyes blinking at him. 

“Ah, Yennefer, welcome to the land of the living! Or should I say ‘land of the living, also occupied by me’?” 

“Jaskier?” Yennefer’s brow furrowed, “What happened?”

“It appears as if we were attacked by bandits on the way back to the campsite, and not even clever ones at that. Hired men. Probably from that lordling Geralt and I pissed off a contract back. He seemed like the type for stupid baseless vengence.” Yennefer sat up, pulling herself to her feet to pace her cell. She jangled the cuffs on her wrists.

“Magic resistant cuffs. They must have been fairly well informed.” Jaskier laughed.

“Not well informed enough it seems. They haven’t bound me at all.” He flashed his unbound arms at her along with a smirk. A stupid mistake really, he had forgotten the blood that streaked his hands and forearms from his middle. Maybe Yen wouldn’t see.

Yennefer, clever witch that she is, noticed immediately. She crossed to the front of her cell, narrowing her eyes at him through the darkness.

“Jaskier, are you hurt?” 

“......no.” 

The look on Yennefer’s face had killed better men than he. 

“We’ve talked about not covering up injuries to look braver. That includes you too.” Jaskier had a will as strong as a limp noodle when it came to his witcher and his witcher. So he fessed up immediately.

“One of the men may have poked me a little with his sword when they nabbed us on the road.” 

“Jaskier” 

“Fine, he ran me through like he was intending to make the most musically inclined shish kebob known to mankind. Happy?”

“Ecstatic. Are you still bleeding?”

Jaskier sucked in a breath as he peeled up his blood-soaked shirt. Even though he wasn’t technically dying, that didn’t mean it didn’t still hurt like a bitch. He winced at the blood running down his stomach in little rivulets.

“Yeah, it’s still bleeding a little.” Yennefer cursed.

“Fuck. We need to get out of here as soon as possible or you’re going to have to end up taking one of my blood replenishing potions again.”

Jaskier resolved to leave immediately. Those potions were fucking disgusting. Luckily, Geralt seemed to sense the urgency and chose that moment to reawaken.

“The fuck?” Geralt threw himself to his feet at the ready as quick as one wrapped in chains possibly could. Yennefer clapped her hands together, drawing his attention to her.

“Fantastic Geralt, you’re finally up. It appears we’ve been kidnapped, you’re covered in chains, I’ve got magic suppressing cuffs, and Jaskier’s been run through with another man’s steel.”

Nothing got Geralt furious quicker than hearing of harm done to his bard.

“Jaskier?” The witcher pressed himself against the bars of his cell, eyes searching to meet Jaskier’s own. He raised his arm in an awkward wave, trying not to flinch at the steadily increasing pain.

“Hello Geralt. Lovely day to get stabbed, isn’t it?” Geralt wasn’t amused.

“Are you okay?’

“I’ll be better as soon as we get the fuck out of this awful, disgusting dungeon. I feel like I’m going to catch a disease just from brushing up the wall in here. Now how about I get us the hell out of here?”

The look on Geralt and Yennefer’s faces was one of intense worry as they watched Jaskier heave himself to his feet, almost gagging at the pain that flared throughout his stomach. Geralt barely stopped himself from reaching out to assist him, realizing that he’d never be able to help through the iron bars between them.

“You don’t have to Jaskier. You’re hurt, you need the energy to heal, not drain it summoning the undead. We can find another way.” Jaskier laughed.

“Another way? You’re covered in chains and Yen’s locked off from her magic. I can get us out of here, and then take a nice long nap.” 

He met Geralt and Yennefer’s eyes, waiting for each of them to nod their assent before his next actions.

The bard held out a hand in front of him, closing his eyes and letting his subconscious drag down into the earth below. He could feel his power begin to condense in his fingertips, creating a soft blue glow. His power sent a call out to the underworld, and a smile crossed his face when he felt something answer.

Jaskier opened his eyes to see a skeleton pulling itself from the earth in front of his cell. As soon as it stood in front of him, it swept into a low bow and hissed words in a language foreign to all living beings except those with a connection to Death. 

Masterrrrrrrrr……..

Jaskier grinned.

“Hello there! As you can see, we’re in a little bit of a predicament, if you wouldn’t mind it would be great if you could release us?”

The skeleton spared no second thought before enacting Jaskier’s wishes, ripping open the bars of his cell like they were made of paper, and proceeding to do the same for Yen and Geralt and their bonds. 

Just as the skeleton was finishing up with Geralt’s chains, a troop of bandits swarmed into the dungeon, a man dressed in red at the head.

He was no doubt the leader of the crew, and was understandably shocked to see all of his prisoners standing free. 

“I hate to interrupt the part of this whole ordeal where you’ve undoubtedly come down here to tell us all about your evil plan of capturing us, who hired you, and what’s going to become of us, but I’m afraid we simply must go. Places to be, and all that. Luckily you won’t have to go explaining to the lordling who hired you why we’ve gone missing, because you’ll be a little preoccupied dealing with some of my dear friends!” Jaskier performed a lazy wave of his hand, his fingertips resuming the familiar glowing blue hue. The bandit seemed to be having trouble processing what exactly was going on.

“What-how,” he sputtered, but was interrupted by the screams of his men in the halls behind him. The clickity clack of bone on the stone floors brought a smile to Jaskier’s face, and the tears of flesh and ligaments being torn away filled the dungeon. The men spun around, attention taken by the new imminent threat, swords raising in shaking hands. Too easy.

Jaskier felt a hand tug on his shoulder, and was pulled through a door into a forgotten corridor after Yen and Geralt. They traipsed down hallway after hallway, collecting Jaskier’s lute and Geralt’s confiscated swords. 

After a few minutes Jaskier’s steps became less steady, and his knees began to feel more like jelly. The third time the bard had to grab the wall for support Geralt lifted him into his arms seamlessly, making sure he was comfortable before ambling on. 

It wasn’t long until they reached sunlight, but by then the world had already begun to go hazy for Jaskier. He had used up too much of his energy summoning the undead and he had lost too much blood. 

Jaskier allowed the gentle rocking of Geralt’s pace to lull him to sleep, his eyelids drifting shut against the midday sun. He knew that when he woke he would be safe and the campsite, protected in his lover’s arms and soon to be met with his overbearing fussing. There would be a warm bowl of stew, a roaring fire, and plenty of blankets. There would be laughter as Yennefer told the tale of the most recent fool who had dared to cross her, and Geralt would bury his face in Jaskier’s hair to disguise his amused smile. It would be home.

Jaskier closed his eyes, and allowed himself to dream.

___________

Hope you enjoyed! Feel free to send more prompts!