#prompt / secret wars

[mischievous-thunder]

[wildsaltair]

if ever there was a man who was hurt-comfort-writing-inspiration personified, it’s Maximus

[lavendernlilac]

secret husbands 100% tried to bring the turf war roleplay into the bedroom at least once by “hatefucking” as their mother spore/mayor personas

omg yeah, 100%

one of them offhandedly suggests it and they agree to try it and see what happens. it’s the “roughest” they’ve ever been with each other — all teeth and bruising kisses. the mayor doesn’t go easy on mother spore either, pushing him into the mattress and completely ruining him

mother spore always puts up a fight, whether it’s their “hatefuck” or some other scene they’re doing — but the mayor knows how to make him fold. they walk away with a significant amount of bruises, and grian is definitely limping a bit, but it’s fine

scar showers him with so much love afterward, worried that he might’ve hurt him. but grian gently reminds him that he’s perfect, and he enjoys a bit of roughness from scar

I think mother spore and the mayor were definitely one of their spicier segments of their sex life, mhm mhm. the mayor certainly tried to “fuck the mycelium out” of mother spore (read: he railed grian within an inch of his life—) a few times.

scar knows how to command grian in the bedroom, and grian knows how to get what he wants too.

[parvuls]

high school romcom trope subversion: unpopular kid eric bittle is failing history, and notorious jock jack zimmermann is assigned as his tutor.

[in-love-with-writing-whump]

Prompt

Whumpee and Caretaker had been through hell and back together countless times, and somewhere between rough beginnings and the present, they'd fallen in love. Whumpee spent years by their side, a stoic right hand who carried out the will of Caretaker, the virtuous leader of the group, making the tough calls, but not without guilt that they admitted to Whumpee behind closed doors. In turn, Whumpee would open up about their own past and concerns. They were each other’s person, matching halves.

Most didn't know about their relationship, not really anyway. There were rumors of course, but given Caretaker's rank, things were mostly kept quiet. A, Caretaker and Whumpee's friend, knew and often was the one spreading rumors, making jokes about how Caretaker and Whumpee embodied the "tall x smol" dynamic.

One day, Caretaker dies in a battle of some sort, and despite Whumpee's efforts, they can't stop them from bleeding to death. A watches with utter horror, openly bursting into tears as Whumpee closes Caretaker's eyes.

The rest of the group grieves quietly, busy tending to their wounds, not paying much mind as Whumpee and A take Caretaker's body to a nearby building where they can retrieve it later for burial.

For the first time ever, A sees Whumpee fall apart, kneeling before them, crying violently. They find themself at a loss for words, Whumpee's screams of agony the only sound in the building.

The only difference the rest of the group seemed to notice when they returned was that Whumpee's cloak/coat was a bit larger. Only A knew that it was Caretaker's name inscribed on the inside.

[tremorsmackenzie]

okay, so hear me out:

no agents of sword, because i dont think it makes much sense for the astro ambassadors to leave shield, its literally their life, and its not even necessary for space exploration. shield is back, they dont need to covertly go through other agencies anymore.

now lets assume daisys mission after the finale is to get out there, get the lay of the land, find allies for earth, and figure out who the enemies are or something to this effect (just because thats what i think makes the most logical sense). not the most interesting premise, but stay with me. the main characters would obviously be kora, sousa, and daisy, with kora essentially taking the role skye had in season 1 as the audience bait. depending on how much you want to recreate the full-on ensemble feel of aos itself, you could also add maybe two relatively major characters from the crew, piper and davis style but more relevant.

it would be a miniseries with about 6-8 episodes as part of the secret wars arc theyre setting up for phases 4-6. we would get one episode at the beginning a couple of months after the mission has started, and wed get to see what theyre up to and what their team dynamics are and everything. they could then meet with a representative of xandar to discuss possible cooperation in security matters (not diplomatic relations, that would need to be left up to official first contact teams etc, despite sousas nicknames these are still spies). the talks would go okay but not well due to earth still being perceived as a primitive backwater, and the ship would depart. just as its jumping away, it suddenly and violently explodes, leaving the team to stare out the cockpit in shock. roll credits.

the crew have skrull saboteurs among them, sent not to stop the mission (because earth could just send another team), but rather to sabotage it so thoroughly that earth remains completely isolated and alone, with noone coming to its aid once the skrulls pull off their plan and take control. making it look as if the widely known outlaw quake destroyed a xandarian transport with some kind of dignitary on it in service of earth would be pretty damning. xandar responds immediatley and puts out a bounty on her head, and the rest of the show would be them trying to root out the saboteurs, set the record straight, and win xandars support for earth after finding out about the skrulls plans from the infiltrator in their crew once they reveal them, all while trying to avoid a slew of pursuers of varying allegiances. could maybe contain the stereotypical "somethings off" detective character on the xandarian side who smells something fishy and cooperates with the team behind their superiors back to help stop the skrulls. the end of the show could be the team getting called up by nick fury to assisst him, or contacting him themselves in order to inform him of their findings.

i tried to come up with something thats new and compelling for aos just like every new season used to be different from what came before, but also sort of keeps the feel of the show to a degree, and is distinctly its own thing and relevant to whats going on in the mcu right now and ends with the team being set up for future appearances. if i wasnt so lazy id maybe turn it into its own fanfiction.

[disastertriowriting]

@clonefandomevents

Here's our fill for "secrets". :)

In a universe where Wrecker and Crosshair are born twins, their closeness results in a telepathic connection only they share. It isn't always a good thing. It also isn't always bad. Either way, it makes confronting each other, and everything they did to each other, simultaneously more difficult and easier.

[viviennes-tears]

Keeping a secret (Tom Hiddleston & Tom Holland one shot)

18+ blog: It is YOUR responsibility, as a reader, to think about the content that you consume at your own discretion. 

~

A/N: I'm so excited for you all to read the first prompt from the new batch of requests! I hope you like it 😊 x

Prompt request by VampireQueen666 on A03: Tom Hiddleston is on the Avengers set and the others are giving him a little surprise celebration for something. Holland is tasked to watch him till they're done setting up. Hiddleston and Holland are watching tv in their costumes. Hiddleston knows Holland is hiding something, and he knows he can't keep a secret, So Hiddleston stars seducing him, kissing his neck and stripping him out of his costume, playing with Hollands naked body, Holland is having a hard time keeping the secret, sex ensues but Holland succeeds in keeping his mouth shut.

Summary: Tom Holland accidentally found out that The Avengers Infinity War cast and crew have been planning an anniversary party for him and Tom Hiddleston. Much to everyone's reluctance they intrust him to keep their secret from Tom, despite how he's never been any good at not giving away any spoilers. However he finds himself betting with Tom whether or not he can truly stay true to his word, having to endure a tortuously pleasurable coaxing, without spoiling anything. 

Warnings: Smut, spanking, deprived orgasm, dirty talk, oral sex, masturbation, bondage, anal fingering, m/m established relationship, fuck used once?, teasing and dom Tom Hiddleston if you squint.

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

The Avengers Infinity War cast and crew cheered and clapped as filming had finally wrapped after an exhaustingly long day. During the aftermath some people formed small groups, standing around whilst chatting and laughing among themselves, also exchanges of a job well done. Hiddleston jumped up out of his chair and rushed over, wrapping an arm around Holland's neck, as he messed up his already static hair which was caused from wearing his Spiderman mask. Both Toms were laughing in between Holland's puny attempts at protesting.

"Now, now Loki play nice." RDJR mockingly-chastised with a smirk across his lips. Tom lets Holland go shortly thereafter, receiving a playful shove in return, then he follows that by pushing his face away playfully as if to get rid of his smile. Of course neither could stop smiling, and being close to each other. As proven by Hiddleston pulling Holland close to his side and placing a peck to his cheek.

Before long both Toms exit the set with Chris Hemsworth, the three of them chatting away, whilst Hiddleston walks with his arm around Holland's shoulders and Holland has his around Hiddleston's slim waist. Also, despite Hiddleston's last scene of the day having ended ages ago he waited around the set for Holland to finish, he enjoyed watching the younger man perfect his craft, and he couldn't wait to spend some alone time with him now the filming part of the day was over. Especially since it's their third month anniversary, having met during a meeting with Kevin Feige and other executives, as well as many others like Downey. It was merely their paths crossing briefly, kind of meeting, until they had gotten together a short while after filming had begun, both falling fast for the other. However what Hiddleston doesn't realise is that the cast and crew have been planning a little surprise party to celebrate the special occasion. Whereas Holland found out accidentally, and he now has been tasked keeping Hiddleston occupied, at least until the final preparations are finished.

"Remember what we all said earlier?" Chris Evans asks, after he races to catch up with them and Elizabeth Olsen in tow.

"Yeah, it's important mate. Keep this...." Hemsworth covers Holland's mouth with his palm as they halt in their tracks, "shut, alright?" He says seriously and then removes his hand, as Holland just nods in agreement.

"We're trusting you, ok?" Evans adds as he points his finger at him.

Hiddleston's eyebrows knit together in confusion, "about what?," he asks as he glances between them all.

Holland opens his mouth to speak but..."couldn't say, sorry..." Elizabeth says, then shrugs with her lips pressed into a thin line. Whereas both Chrises mumbled some nonsense, before they pointed into different directions, as if pretending they had been called away.

"Lizzy?" Tom tries to coax her to talk in his low menacing Loki voice, as he closes the distance between them.

"It won't work on me, Hiddles." Elizabeth says, folding her arms under her cleavage with a satisfying confidence in herself.

"Humph...it did when we were dating." The pair narrowed their gaze at each other and his jaw flexed while tightly clenched together.

Elizabeth is the first to break eye contact, "good luck with this one." She says teasingly and playfully pats Holland's cheek as she passes him.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hiddleston asks defensively, but he's not given an answer or even a backwards glance as she disappears.

Holland came up beside Hiddleston and kissed his cheek. "Come on, don't let it spoil our anniversary." He says in an annoyingly comforting way, causing Hiddleston to roll his eyes at him, while a smile plays on his lips simultaneously.

Hiddleston then takes Holland's hand as they single file into Hiddleston's trailer. Once inside Holland gets comfy in the seating booth and instantly reaches for the TV remote, as Hiddleston closes the door behind them, then he moves gracefully towards the kitchenette which is opposite Holland. He is careful not to block the TV screen that is attached to the wall underneath some cabinets, as he grabs them a couple of beers out of the fridge. He twists off the caps before tossing them carelessly onto the counter and then he joins Holland in the booth. He sets both beers down onto the table before he slouches down and leans back into Holland's chest as he flicks through the TV channels.

The TV flickers from picture to picture until Holland finally settles on a random movie which had barely started. Satisfied with the find Holland puts the remote down next to his untouched beer before his fingers find their way into Hiddleston's inky black Loki wig. He twizzles a strand around his fingers as Hiddleston wraps his other arm around him. They settle into a peaceful silence for a while as they watch the movie, that is until Hiddleston begins interrogating Holland for some answers.

"What did Chris mean when he told you to shut it?" Hiddleston asks, as he peers up at Holland as he stays nestled back in his chest.

"Oh...er...you know just about the usual spoilers and stuff." Holland replies without taking his eyes off the TV screen.

"Right...." Tom trails off in disbelief, a questioning quirk of his brow, as he sits up in order to look Tom sternly in the eye. "You're not usually this quiet." His gaze unfaltering as Tom tries to appear innocent, evidently his facial expression was too transparent, Hiddleston knows him far too well and Holland knows it too.

As Hiddleston's gaze softens slightly he leans in close to Holland, so close that his lips are ghosting Holland's, their lips don't touch as he waits to see what he does first. Waiting to see if there's any cracks in his futile innocence. Albeit as the seconds tick by and Hiddleston doesn't seem to be backing away, Holland presses his lips into a thin line, as if to keep himself from slipping up. When Hiddleston finally does make a move he kisses the side of Holland's mouth, then he kisses along his jaw while his left hand cradles Holland's head, as it lulls to the side and exposes his neck completely to him. Now Hiddleston has access he slowly makes his way down his neck. The soft caress of Hiddleston's lips on Holland's neck causes him to let out a moan and his hands grip onto Hiddleston's forearms. His grip tightens as the kisses soon turn into bruising ones instead.

"You've never been able to keep that pretty little mouth of yours closed for long though." Tom says seductively, once he looks back into Tom's eyes, and he runs his thumb along Holland's bottom lip as he speaks.

"I can keep a secret!" Holland whinily complained with a pouty lip.

"Just like the time when you told Jacob Batalon and then the rest of our Marvel co-stars about us after we agreed to keep it between us for a while." Hiddleston said seriously.

"When are you going to let it go? I apologised several times and then some." Holland says and then bites his lip.

"Insufferable..." Hiddleston mockingly-scoffed.

"Yeah, but you love meeeee." Holland pecks Hiddleston on the lips.

"I suppose so..." Hiddleston agrees as another sly smile across his lips. "Do you want to make a bet?" He suggested.

"What kind of bet?" Holland asks cautiously.

"You let me do whatever I want to you until your writhing beneath me...unable to keep quiet...panting, moaning and crooning into my ear." Hiddleston says in his most seductive Loki voice and he nips Holland's earlobe for good measure. "You'll be so putty in my hands that you will tell me everything and you'll cum harder than you've ever cum before." He whispers into his ear.

"W-what happens if I don't?" Holland replies a little breathlessly after that imagery was put into his head.

"If you don't I won't let you cum." Hiddleston says, gently patting Holland's cheek with a knowing look.

"No, don't be like that. It's our anniversary. Anything but that, please?" Holland pleads with puppy dog eyes.

"Ehehe, I know that look, I'm the master of that look as well as others..." Hiddleston winks with two fingers hooked underneath Holland's chin. "Those are my terms, not that you have any say in the matter."

"But-" Hiddleston's lips crash against Holland's, silencing him this time, hungrily moving against his. Within moments Hiddleston's tongue prods eagerly against Holland's lips, asking permission for them to part, which they do so willingly and Hiddleston's tongue is met by Holland's, massaging against the other's and teeth slightly scraping together.

As Holland's eyes slowly open after their lips part to catch their breath, he sees Hiddleston sliding on his knees backwards, until he steps out of the booth and his eyes never leaving Holland's as he moves gracefully. However Holland isn't given long to get his breath back before he's dragged to the edge of the booth by his ankles, his hands are now in Hiddleston's reach, and then he's yanked up onto his feet. Tom instantly presses his body into Hiddleston's as their lips find each other again, with his arms wrapped around Hiddleston's waist, while Hiddleston's wrap around his neck. As the kiss deepens Hiddleston toys with the zipper at the back of Holland's SpiderMan costume, pulling it down slowly, his knuckles brushing against his flesh. Once the zipper reaches half way down Tom's back Tom pulls the latex away from his right shoulder, exposing his delectable soft skin to him, which is asking to be marked like his neck had done earlier. A gasp leaves Holland's lips at the sudden bite to his shoulder.

Hiddleston soon carries on, pulling Holland's costume down slowly and with the newly presented areas on his chest becoming bruisingly marked, licked and caressed affectionately. Each nipple taken into Hiddleston's hot mouth in turn as the other was rolled and pinched between his fingers. Thus far Holland hadn't said a word except for the sounds of approval. Evidently Hiddleston had to up his ammo. Firstly Hiddleston wiggles Holland's costume down past his hips, then he yanks it off the rest of the way, and reveals his cheeky black lacy thong underneath. Tom curled his fingers around the thin edges wrapped around his hips, once he stood back to his full height and then he roughly pulled Tom's hips to his own, both groaning at the sudden closeness.

"I like these ones." Hiddleston growls.

"I thought you'd prefer a more grown up look for the special occasion instead of my usual novelty ones you keep tearing off." Holland said and it was his turn to nip at Hiddleston, taking his bottom lip between his teeth, pulling gently on it for a few seconds.

"What makes you think these ones won't get torn?" Hiddleston asks as he rolls his hips against Holland.

"Because I'll run out before filming wraps." Holland replies, his cheeks heat up as Hiddleston lovingly strokes his face with one hand, the other still tangled around the edge of his thong.

"Humm...we can get you more." Hiddleston said, as he ripped Tom's thong off with one hand, letting the torn material fall by their feet, his fingers then tracing down the v-dip and brushing the light sprinkling of pubic hairs.

Tom's breath hitches in his throat as anticipation within his body tingles delightfully, albeit Hiddleston doesn't touch him where he needs him most, at least not yet anyway. Instead he stood there in all his bare glory for a couple of minutes only to have Hiddleston return to him with his famous Loki scarf. The scarf runs along his jaw, down the side of his neck and his chest, the fluffiness causing him to giggle as it dances across his ticklish skin. He easily allows his arms to be caged between his back and Hiddleston's chest once he was spun around. He felt the scarf being tied tightly around his wrists, as Hiddleston gently kissed his shoulder blades, the last of Mr Nice Guy for the time being.

Hiddleston seats himself back into the booth, spreading his thighs generously to accommodate Holland's naked form, which he draped over them roughly before his hand thwacked against his backside. The full spans of Hiddleston's hand struck in quick sessions, reddening the pale skin beneath his hand, Holland letting out cries of pleasure mixed with hisses as he felt the sting and heat begin to radiate from his tush. It had been a while since he'd been spanked and unashamedly he missed it. He felt his cock hardening between his thighs and he could feel Hiddleston's own growing bulge against his stomach too.

Heavy pants filled the air following on from the relentless spanking session mixed with the low murmurs of the TV still on in the background. Holland lay draped over Hiddleston's lap still waiting to be let up, as he felt Hiddleston knead his bum, and then he felt a cold lotion being poured onto his reddened flesh. It was gently rubbed into his skin to help soothe him.

"Ready to talk yet?" Came Hiddleston's gruffly voice.

"N-no..." Holland said around the lump in his throat.

Clearly it wasn't the correct answer, earning himself another harsh thwack, before he was forced to stand on shaky legs as Hiddleston dragged himself out of the booth. Next he was forced down onto the table. The untouched beer bottles and TV remote were pushed to the end to make space for his body, while his arms remained trapped beneath him, as his wrist remained tied together. His legs were hoisted up and forcefully parted with his feet planted firmly on the table. Hiddleston's lusty gaze roamed over the fine specimen before him and he bit his lip to suppress a groan. Eventually his fingers traveled lightly down the valley of Holland's chest, spreading the light sheen of sweat, and spares of hairs matted together. His fingers stilling at his navel as he meets his gaze. Next Hiddleston leans down, peppering kisses once more down chest, Holland's toned abdomen tightening, caused by Hiddleston tracing around his muscles. Before long Hiddleston was kneeling down with his head between his thighs, placing sloppy kisses to each of them, whilst his fingers stroked in small circles on Holland's hips.

"Anything you wish to tell me?" Hiddleston asks, his lips ghosting hotly against one thigh.

"I-I told you....n-no." Holland panted.

"No?" Hiddleston growled lowly.

Tom sat back on his heels as he spat into his palm before taking hold of Holland's engorged red flushed cock into his hand. Holland gasped and felt his cock twitch in his hand as he was being stroked at a leisurely pace. Hiddleston's salvia coated his cock as he spread it from head to base. He then pressed the pad of his thumb against the slit and massaged his balls with the other hand. Pearls of precum trickled out after a few swipes of his thumb. Leaning forward Hiddleston used the flat of his tongue and licked a wet stripe along the slit, making Holland hiss through gritted teeth, and his fingers twitched behind his back to ensure the blood still flowed.

Hiddleston nuzzled his nose against Tom's manhood, inhaling deeply, his own cock practically wanted to burst out of his tight leather trousers. He swallowed thickly before taking the head of his cock between his already reddened lips. He sucked gently at first, creating sounds as though he was enjoying a lollipop instead, until he returned to licking the tip. A few times this happened before his gaze through his lashes was met by the younger man's own gaze, his lips slightly parted, a dreamily glint in his eyes, as he held his head up to watch. Watching his cock disappear between beautiful thin lips, and the feeling of wanting to tangle his fingers into Tom's own hair instead of the wig, which now fell around his face in messy tendrils. Yet the upwards thrust of his hips begged Hiddleston to take more of his needy cock. Thankfully he obliged. Hiddleston took him all the way down his throat and hollowed his cheeks, until he pulled back, the head only seated between his lips. He repeated this action several times at his own pace until Holland began rutting upwards and further down his throat. Usually Holland would lay back and let Tom take his fill, but seeing as this was a bet he wanted to push him, to get Tom to make him cum without spilling the tea. He managed to slide off the table and began to impatiently force his length all the way to the back of Tom's throat. Hiddleston had to grab tightly onto the backs of his thighs as Tom used his mouth, tears springing up from his eyes, while he tried to relax his throat and keep breathing through the merciless fucking.

The quack in Holland's thighs was the telltale sign of his pending climax, but before he could fathom what was happening Hiddleston ripped himself away, his saliva and Tom's precum dribbling down his chin. Holland whined at the loss of his hot wet mouth around him. His plan had failed.

Hiddleston tsk'd as he rose onto his feet, wiping his chin and mouth with the back of his hand, before he forced Holland back down onto the table. Forcing him back into his previous position with his legs hoisted up and parted. Holland didn't dare try anything else and waited for his boyfriend to resume his agonising bet. That he did when he was pleased enough with the way his climax had subsided. He continued with his ministrations, his hand collecting the slick from his cock, before tracing and rubbing two fingers around Tom's hole. His sore ass scraping against the knotted wood beneath him. Also no matter how many times he was touched there by Tom he always shivered with delight at knowing the inevitability. A gasp escaped his parted lips as one finger entered him, it wiggled around inside a bit, until only the tip remained. Hiddleston repeated the action two more times before a second finger joined in. Wiggling both around and then gently spreading them, opening him up, enjoyment etched on his face from the slow torture.

"Tom p-please go faster." Holland pleaded through ragged breaths.

Tom removed his fingers momentarily, allowing Tom to sit up as he untied him, "don't try anything just because I untied you." He warned and gently laid him back again once his arms were freed.

Holland embraced the freedom of his hands, allowing Tom to massage them above his head with one hand, the other hand finding its way down his body. He moaned at the feeling of his fingers returning to his now sodden hole. Only this time he was a lot more rougher, his fingers fucking him wildly and Holland's hands flew up to hold steadfast onto Hiddleston's leather bound hips to keep him grounded. The feeling intensified as his cock was taken back into his hand, being pleasured in such a way that just as Hiddleston said he was crooning into his ear as he lent down to him.

"That's it baby, sing for me. Tell me all." Hiddleston whispered hoarsely.

Unfortunately just as Hiddleston also said Holland didn't get to cum. He lost the bet as he stayed true to his word. Although deep down Tom was proud, but he wouldn't let it show.

Heaving breaths filled the air as Tom sat up and saw Hiddleston stooped against the kitchenette counter, as he unzipped his leather trousers, freeing his flushed viney cock out of its tight confinements. He spits into his palm again and takes hold of his needy cock. Bravely Tom slid off the table and wobbled towards the older man who's fist was tightly assaulting his length. Upon approaching closer he could see Hiddleston's pupils are completely blown out, just like he suspected his own to be like, the same could be said for their lips to be red and swollen.

Holland tries to reach for him with pleading eyes, but his hand is instantly slapped away, followed by a grunt falling from Hiddleston's lips causing his own cock to twitch wantonly in his hand. His lustful gaze roaming over Holland's flushed aroused body, soaking in every ounce of him, his thrusts into his hand becoming erratic as his eyes stopped at Tom's proudly erected cock.

"F-fuckkk!" Tom groaned with his eyes tightly closing in perfect timing of his release. He comes in thick ropes, spurting out onto his hand, some dripping through his fingers and landing on his leather boots.

Holland finally closes the distance between them and kisses Tom's temple. "You're beautiful." He whispers.

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

Later Holland manages to convince Tom to go out instead of being cooped up in the trailer for the rest of the night, like they'd previously planned on doing, at least that's what Tom thought their plans were. Plans of eating a takeaway and staying in for the night just the two of them. Although Holland's foolproof excuse was that he needed it after the torturous bet between them, it seemed to work too.

Their car pulls up at a quiet out of the way grand stoned venue. Hiddleston looked out the window as his eyebrows knitted together, his mouth opening to ask where they were, but the words could barely form as his attention was drawn away from the window. The sounds of Holland opening the door on his side and hoping out onto the gravelled drive had confused him more. He thought they were going to some restaurant in town, evidently the newer and better TH he often referred to Holland as had other ideas. Wordlessly Hiddleston decided to join Holland, stepping out onto the gravelled driveway, holding his hand when he rounded the car and letting the younger man guide him inside.

The venue's foyer was elegant, empty of people, and warmly lit by the posh glass chandelier above their heads. Not that Tom gave Hiddleston much time to enjoy the architecture or finer details of the entrance, he was beaming that much was clear, guiding Tom further inside. Ahead of them down the other end of the corridor was a large wooden door and as if on cue they swung open once they were right outside of them.

"SURPRISE!" Came a chorus of familiar voices of the cast and crew who had grouped together in the centre awaiting their arrival.

Hiddleston was completely stunned. They'd made a lot of effort in elaborately decorating the venue. A banner hung across two pillars, it read 'happy anniversary!' in a bold black font, with a golden swirly pattern in the banner's corners which complimented the back writing. Balloons of black and gold were scattered about the dance floor as well as helium ones decorating the decked out tables. After everybody had spurts out Hiddleston became mobile again. Both Toms got to drink, dance and laugh as well as tuck into the delicious buffet that was spread out at the back.

Near the end of the night when a slow song came on both Toms got onto the dance floor with the rest of the couples. They swayed gently in each other's arms to the music.

"Soooo...do I get to cum later?" Tom asks loud enough for only Tom to hear him with a wiggle of eyebrows.

"I'm not promising anything." Tom says as if thinking about the request, adding to Holland's accomplishment of keeping all of this a secret, except for the twinkle in his eyes was giving him away.

Tom Hiddleston Masterlist

Source: @viviennes-tears​ ​

[byoldervine]

It was supposed to be a normal mission; find the Paracosian creature, minimise human casualties and other collateral damage, send the creature home through a realm portal and get out of there before we attract the Guardians. Sounds simple, right? Routine. And for the most part, it’s getting there, the job’s getting easier. Fun, even. As a kid I always thought it would be cool to be a superhero

Kid me didn’t take into account how terrifying it is to watch your superhero partner get stabbed through the shoulder by a fellow Guardian

Angelus yelled in pain, I yelled in panic. Sure, we hasn’t always gotten along, but - shit, you know? Angelus could face his final death from this. I mean, I don’t know if he’s an immortal or not - I’d like to think he’s immortal, but hell if I’m the one to test it

The Guardian hardly has time to block my sword when I swing it at their face. I’m not really trying to put up a good fight here since I know I’m not capable of that yet, I just need to wedge myself between Angelus and the Guardian, which fortunately works. At the sight of the sword, the Guardian recoils, then reluctantly retreats, flying off into the night

I open a realm portal back to Tyrion, crouching by Angelus where he collapsed, clutching his wound. “Are you okay?!”

“Do I look okay to you?!” He snaps, breath shaky and quick. What little of his face I can see is all scrunched up and contorted. I gently move his hand away to inspect his wound. “Okay, it isn’t as deep as I thought… I should be able to patch you up, just stay conscious. Keep talking to me.”

I scoop Angelus up bridal style, moving carefully to avoid aggravating his wound. He still yowls in pain, wings tucking in and shuddering violently. “Shit…!”

I carry Angelus through the portal, closing it behind us, and set him on the floor so I have easier access to him. “Keep talking, Angelus. Uh… how was your day?”

“Are you seriously- ngh… asking me about my day right now?”

“If it keeps you talking, then yes,” I confirm, searching around my room for some kind of first aid kit or whatever else. I’m an revival immortal, I don’t plan for this shit. Hell, I commit die just to avoid the hassle of waiting to heal naturally!

“It was… meh… lot of busywork… fuck, vision’s going…”

“That’s fine, try not to panic.” I give up and grab an old T-shirt, ripping it to shreds that I can bandage Angelus up with. “What kind of busywork do you do?”

“None… of your… business…”

I return to Angelus’ side, kneeling by him to start wrapping his wound. “Okay, that’s fine,” I reply, making sure to tie it night and tight to provide the most pressure. Pressure’s supposed to be good for this, right? I need to take a first aid course or something in case Angelus gets hurt again. Or anyone else, but Angelus is most likely

“Keep talking. What things do you like?” I prompt, pushing down on the wound through the cloth. The once white shirt is already staining a pinkish-red. Angelus yells again. Are those tears escaping his eyes?

“Fuck! Shit, shit! Ah! Uh… d-dogs! Dogs! Fuck, I like dogs!”

“Really?” I look to Angelus curiously. “Well that’s new.” “What do you want, a fucking prize?!” He snaps. His eyes are screwed shut right now. I don’t think he’s opened them this whole time we’ve been here. Which is probably for the best, considering I really shouldn’t have brought him to my own room. With the benefit of hindsight, that isn’t really doing much to help the whole secret identity thing, is it? Shit…

“What dogs do you like?”

“Fuck… uh… the spotty ones… black and white…”

“Dalmatians?”

“Yeah. Them.”

At least I’ve got him talking now. “Yeah? Good choice. What do you like about them?”

“Dunno… cute…”

“Tell me more, come on. Tell me about dogs.”

“I don’t fucking know… fucking interrogation…”

“If you keep talking, you keep conscious,” I explain briefly. “That’s one of the few medical things I actually know. Now keep talking, even if it’s just you swearing at me.”

“I’m not fucking swearing…”

Despite everything, I can’t resist the urge to laugh a little at this, if only to let out my anxiousness. “Sure you ain’t. You’re the literal angel, aren’t you supposed to be all ‘holier than thou’?”

“Fuck off.”

“Guess that’s a no.”

Angelus doesn’t respond for a minute. I look closer, then when I see no movement I check if he’s breathing. “Angelus? Angelus, keep talking!” I demand, my tone sharp with worry

“Tired…” his voice is quiet

“I know. Fuck. Just keep talking. It’ll make you better.”

“How…?”

“I don’t know, I just know that you’ll have better chances of surviving if you stay awake. Learned that from experience.”

“… When… you die…. is it good?”

I give him an incredulous look. “Is what good? Dying?”

“Yeah…”

“Well I could do without the process. Nexus is nice, though I’m speaking from a place of privilege. The fuck am I saying, you won’t be finding out for yourself any time soon.”

“Oh…”

“Angelus, I need you to think; is there anywhere I can take you to get patched up properly?”

“You can’t…?”

“I don’t have the knowledge of the resources. You need actual help.”

“… Uh… Anessa… Princess…”

I pause at this, unsure if Angelus is serious or if it’s just the fact that he’s on the verge of passing out. “You mean… you, a fugitive, want me to take you to the daughter of the man who wants you dead?”

“Anessa… she’s good… she knows me…”

“… Is there anywhere else…?”

“No.”

I hesitate, considering my options, but I don’t think I have any real choice; it’s either risk Anessa turning Angelus in to King Aegis or letting Angelus bleed to death on my bedroom floor…

“You’re gonna be okay,” I tell Angelus softly as I scoop him into my arms again. “I know a secret entrance. I can get you into the palace. But if you’re caught, there’s nothing I can do to help you.”

“… Thank you…”

You’ve always had a literal guardian angel- but she’s currently bleeding out on your bedroom floor.

[queernoob]

Whumptober 2024 - Day 7!

Prompts: "trust issues", "only for emergencies", "secrets revealed", "regret"

"They knew what they had to do, there was no choice now. If they didn’t stop this Inquisitor here, she would kill Cal. She would kill their friend. They weren’t going to let that happen. No matter the consequences, no matter the personal cost, they wouldn’t let it happen again..."

Third fic for Whumptober! Major spoilers for my fic A Fall Too Far, minor spoilers for my main fic Jedi: Remnants

[mostlysignssomeportents]

“If buying isn’t owning, piracy isn’t stealing”

20 years ago, I got in a (friendly) public spat with Chris Anderson, who was then the editor in chief of Wired. I'd publicly noted my disappointment with glowing Wired reviews of DRM-encumbered digital devices, prompting Anderson to call me unrealistic for expecting the magazine to condemn gadgets for their DRM:

https://longtail.typepad.com/the_long_tail/2004/12/is_drm_evil.html

I replied in public, telling him that he'd misunderstood. This wasn't an issue of ideological purity – it was about good reviewing practice. Wired was telling readers to buy a product because it had features x, y and z, but at any time in the future, without warning, without recourse, the vendor could switch off any of those features:

https://memex.craphound.com/2004/12/29/cory-responds-to-wired-editor-on-drm/

I proposed that all Wired endorsements for DRM-encumbered products should come with this disclaimer:

WARNING: THIS DEVICE’S FEATURES ARE SUBJECT TO REVOCATION WITHOUT NOTICE, ACCORDING TO TERMS SET OUT IN SECRET NEGOTIATIONS. YOUR INVESTMENT IS CONTINGENT ON THE GOODWILL OF THE WORLD’S MOST PARANOID, TECHNOPHOBIC ENTERTAINMENT EXECS. THIS DEVICE AND DEVICES LIKE IT ARE TYPICALLY USED TO CHARGE YOU FOR THINGS YOU USED TO GET FOR FREE — BE SURE TO FACTOR IN THE PRICE OF BUYING ALL YOUR MEDIA OVER AND OVER AGAIN. AT NO TIME IN HISTORY HAS ANY ENTERTAINMENT COMPANY GOTTEN A SWEET DEAL LIKE THIS FROM THE ELECTRONICS PEOPLE, BUT THIS TIME THEY’RE GETTING A TOTAL WALK. HERE, PUT THIS IN YOUR MOUTH, IT’LL MUFFLE YOUR WHIMPERS.

Wired didn't take me up on this suggestion.

But I was right. The ability to change features, prices, and availability of things you've already paid for is a powerful temptation to corporations. Inkjet printers were always a sleazy business, but once these printers got directly connected to the internet, companies like HP started pushing out "security updates" that modified your printer to make it reject the third-party ink you'd paid for:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/11/ink-stained-wretches-battle-soul-digital-freedom-taking-place-inside-your-printer

Now, this scam wouldn't work if you could just put things back the way they were before the "update," which is where the DRM comes in. A thicket of IP laws make reverse-engineering DRM-encumbered products into a felony. Combine always-on network access with indiscriminate criminalization of user modification, and the enshittification will follow, as surely as night follows day.

This is the root of all the right to repair shenanigans. Sure, companies withhold access to diagnostic codes and parts, but codes can be extracted and parts can be cloned. The real teeth in blocking repair comes from the law, not the tech. The company that makes McDonald's wildly unreliable McFlurry machines makes a fortune charging franchisees to fix these eternally broken appliances. When a third party threatened this racket by reverse-engineering the DRM that blocked independent repair, they got buried in legal threats:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/20/euthanize-rentier-enablers/#cold-war

Everybody loves this racket. In Poland, a team of security researchers at the OhMyHack conference just presented their teardown of the anti-repair features in NEWAG Impuls locomotives. NEWAG boobytrapped their trains to try and detect if they've been independently serviced, and to respond to any unauthorized repairs by bricking themselves:

https://mamot.fr/@q3k@hackerspace.pl/111528162905209453

Poland is part of the EU, meaning that they are required to uphold the provisions of the 2001 EU Copyright Directive, including Article 6, which bans this kind of reverse-engineering. The researchers are planning to present their work again at the Chaos Communications Congress in Hamburg this month – Germany is also a party to the EUCD. The threat to researchers from presenting this work is real – but so is the threat to conferences that host them:

https://www.cnet.com/tech/services-and-software/researchers-face-legal-threats-over-sdmi-hack/

20 years ago, Chris Anderson told me that it was unrealistic to expect tech companies to refuse demands for DRM from the entertainment companies whose media they hoped to play. My argument – then and now – was that any tech company that sells you a gadget that can have its features revoked is defrauding you. You're paying for x, y and z – and if they are contractually required to remove x and y on demand, they are selling you something that you can't rely on, without making that clear to you.

But it's worse than that. When a tech company designs a device for remote, irreversible, nonconsensual downgrades, they invite both external and internal parties to demand those downgrades. Like Pavel Chekov says, a phaser on the bridge in Act I is going to go off by Act III. Selling a product that can be remotely, irreversibly, nonconsensually downgraded inevitably results in the worst person at the product-planning meeting proposing to do so. The fact that there are no penalties for doing so makes it impossible for the better people in that meeting to win the ensuing argument, leading to the moral injury of seeing a product you care about reduced to a pile of shit:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/25/moral-injury/#enshittification

But even if everyone at that table is a swell egg who wouldn't dream of enshittifying the product, the existence of a remote, irreversible, nonconsensual downgrade feature makes the product vulnerable to external actors who will demand that it be used. Back in 2022, Adobe informed its customers that it had lost its deal to include Pantone colors in Photoshop, Illustrator and other "software as a service" packages. As a result, users would now have to start paying a monthly fee to see their own, completed images. Fail to pay the fee and all the Pantone-coded pixels in your artwork would just show up as black:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/28/fade-to-black/#trust-the-process

Adobe blamed this on Pantone, and there was lots of speculation about what had happened. Had Pantone jacked up its price to Adobe, so Adobe passed the price on to its users in the hopes of embarrassing Pantone? Who knows? Who can know? That's the point: you invested in Photoshop, you spent money and time creating images with it, but you have no way to know whether or how you'll be able to access those images in the future. Those terms can change at any time, and if you don't like it, you can go fuck yourself.

These companies are all run by CEOs who got their MBAs at Darth Vader University, where the first lesson is "I have altered the deal, pray I don't alter it further." Adobe chose to design its software so it would be vulnerable to this kind of demand, and then its customers paid for that choice. Sure, Pantone are dicks, but this is Adobe's fault. They stuck a KICK ME sign to your back, and Pantone obliged.

This keeps happening and it's gonna keep happening. Last week, Playstation owners who'd bought (or "bought") Warner TV shows got messages telling them that Warner had walked away from its deal to sell videos through the Playstation store, and so all the videos they'd paid for were going to be deleted forever. They wouldn't even get refunds (to be clear, refunds would also be bullshit – when I was a bookseller, I didn't get to break into your house and steal the books I'd sold you, not even if I left some cash on your kitchen table).

Sure, Warner is an unbelievably shitty company run by the single most guillotineable executive in all of Southern California, the loathsome David Zaslav, who oversaw the merger of Warner with Discovery. Zaslav is the creep who figured out that he could make more money cancelling completed movies and TV shows and taking a tax writeoff than he stood to make by releasing them:

https://aftermath.site/there-is-no-piracy-without-ownership

Imagine putting years of your life into making a program – showing up on set at 5AM and leaving your kids to get their own breakfast, performing stunts that could maim or kill you, working 16-hour days during the acute phase of the covid pandemic and driving home in the night, only to have this absolute turd of a man delete the program before anyone could see it, forever, to get a minor tax advantage. Talk about moral injury!

But without Sony's complicity in designing a remote, irreversible, nonconsensual downgrade feature into the Playstation, Zaslav's war on art and creative workers would be limited to material that hadn't been released yet. Thanks to Sony's awful choices, David Zaslav can break into your house, steal your movies – and he doesn't even have to leave a twenty on your kitchen table.

The point here – the point I made 20 years ago to Chris Anderson – is that this is the foreseeable, inevitable result of designing devices for remote, irreversible, nonconsensual downgrades. Anyone who was paying attention should have figured that out in the GW Bush administration. Anyone who does this today? Absolute flaming garbage.

Sure, Zaslav deserves to be staked out over an anthill and slathered in high-fructose corn syrup. But save the next anthill for the Sony exec who shipped a product that would let Zaslav come into your home and rob you. That piece of shit knew what they were doing and they did it anyway. Fuck them. Sideways. With a brick.

Meanwhile, the studios keep making the case for stealing movies rather than paying for them. As Tyler James Hill wrote: "If buying isn't owning, piracy isn't stealing":

https://bsky.app/profile/tylerjameshill.bsky.social/post/3kflw2lvam42n

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/08/playstationed/#tyler-james-hill

Image: Alan Levine (modified) https://pxhere.com/en/photo/218986

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

[ellecdc]

The Bolter

Sirius Black x fem!reader who meet again [5.5k words]

prompt: poly!wolfstar or just Sirius x reader in which they were friends with benefits but it was obvious they loved each other even though they acted like they weren’t. Then, reader finds out shes pregnant and before telling them, they do something stupid. so reader runs away for a few months. When she comes back (only bc she had to for some reason) shes like 6-7 months pregnant

CW: secret pregnancy, angst, FWB to strangers to lovers, second chance fic, post war trauma, both Sirius and reader are meeesssssssssssyyyyy in this! I don't approve of what they've done but I understand it

“So…she’s coming back?” Sirius asked cautiously, focusing more on the condensation pooling on the coaster underneath his pint than the concerned gazes of his two best friends. 

“Well, I don’t know if she’s coming back, but she’ll be here for Harry’s birthday.” James mollified, sharing a nervous look with Remus.

“Right.” Sirius murmured around a swallow; throat tight and dry though neither the pint nor the pitcher of water in front of him looked as though they’d be able to help him with the matter. 

“Are you going to be alright?” Remus queried, and Sirius offered him the most arrogant scoff he could muster; he missed by a long shot.

“Of course I’m going to be alright.” He huffed. “Why? Can’t two friends see each other after five and a half months of silence?” 

“Sirius-” James started, but Sirius carried on. 

“She’s the only one who’s been silent, you know?” Though he knew that they did indeed both know. “I’ve tried. I’ve tried reaching out.” 

“Pads.” Remus offered consolingly, looking frustratingly like he was going to reach a hand out to Sirius as if he were some over tired toddler on the brink of a meltdown.

“Stop, no I- I’m fine, honest.” He insisted as he took a steadying breath. “I- you… talked to her, then?”

James and Remus shared another look before James allowed the segue. 

“Mostly by owl, but she has spoken on the phone with Lily a few times.” 

Sirius nodded as he considered this; considered the number of owls Sirius had sent that had gone unanswered - perhaps even unopened if the silence meant anything at all.

“She��s…okay?” 

Remus let out a sigh as he shot Sirius a tight smile that looked more like a grimace. “She’s…vague.”

“She doesn’t share a whole lot.” James agreed. “Says she’s fine, things are good. Mostly asks about…all of us, Harry.” 

“She’s still staying with that great aunt,” Remus added, “helping her with the property.” 

“She seeing anyone?” There was no point in pretending that wasn’t the most pressing matter in Sirius’ mind; of course it was. And as angry and bitter as the idea made Sirius, it would have been his own fault, his own doing. He had no one to blame but himself. 

And he’d have to live the rest of his life knowing he was the one who let you slip away - pushed you away - right into the arms of someone else. 

“Not that she’s mentioned.” Remus responded honestly; he couldn’t say for sure that you weren’t, but if you were, you clearly hadn’t said anything about it. 

“Right.” Sirius offered shortly. 

“Pads, I…we would understand if it's too hard for you to see her. If you can’t come-”

“Don’t be daft.” Sirius scoffed deploringly. “I’m not going to miss my godson’s birthday. If anyone should be missing it, it should be her; I’ve been here for the past four and a half months, she’s the one who fucked off for good.”

“Sirius-”

“I don’t understand why you had to invite her!” Sirius shouted then, startling even himself when he realised how breathless he sounded all of a sudden. 

James smiled at him sadly; Sirius wished he’d stop doing that. “We wanted all of Harry’s uncles and his aunt to be there, Sirius…it’s important, yeah? We…we almost didn’t get this chance.”

Sirius could feel a wicked migraine coming on; between talking about you, the close calls and the fact that the group of you were all alive following the war by nothing but chance, and the fact that the person Sirius was most angry with was himself, he downed the rest of his pint and flagged the server in favour of having to look at the pitiful gazes being shot at him by Remus and James.

Sirius couldn’t tell if he was eager for Harry’s second birthday or dreading it. But like it or not, Sirius was going to be seeing you again. 

It had felt like a good idea at the time.

It felt beyond foolish now, but it had felt like a good idea at the time. 

*ೃ༄.ೃ࿐

“Sirius, we just won. We just won, why do you have to leave now?” You practically begged as you followed Sirius through his flat. 

“Because if I don’t get out now, I’m going to be stuck here for eternity.” He all but spat at you as he shoved articles of clothing into his duffle rather haphazardly. You felt like grabbing the bag from him and folding them properly if the act wouldn’t leave you feeling like you were aiding and abetting his abandoning you.

“But what about James? And Remus? What about Harry? You fought this war for them, and they for you - we just got them back!”

“And they’ll be here when I’m ready to come home!” Sirius shouted; turning to look at you with wild, red rimmed eyes. 

“What about me?” You asked quietly, hating how small you sounded.

“What about you?” He asked; face falling painfully neutral. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought he was occluding. 

“I…I don’t know.” You started awkwardly, shrugging one shoulder. “I thought…maybe we’d have a chance now. To try?.”

“Y/N.” Sirius sighed as he rubbed harshly at his eyes; entire being oozed exhaustion at having to have this conversation with you. “Have I not been entirely clear about what this was between us?” 

“Right.” You agreed quickly, biting roughly on your lip and looking anywhere but at him as he let his hand fall away from his face. 

“It’s…it’s not you, doll-” but even your humourless scoff didn’t derail him “I’m not the kind to settle down and be content I- I wouldn’t be enough for you.”

“I’m not asking you for any more than what we have, Sirius-”

“Yes you are.”

“-I just want you to stay.”

“That’s too much for me.” He stated; his voice never raised though he may as well have screamed it at you. “I cannot sit here and play house, I cannot be that guy for you.”

“Cannot or will not?” You asked quietly, regretting the question the second it came out of your mouth and he looked at you with nothing but pity in his eyes. 

“Y/N…”

“I’m sorry I asked.” You let out with a chuckle as you harshly wiped tears from under your eyes. 

“It’s…it’s not forever, yeah? I just…I can’t see myself being happy here…not right now, at least; not for a while.” 

“Where will you go?” Your voice grated painfully as it came out, but you tried to keep an air of nonchalance about you. You wouldn’t look at him, but you could see his shoulders shrug helplessly. 

“I don’t know…everywhere. Anywhere.”

Anywhere was better than stuck here with you, apparently. 

“I hope it’s nice, wherever it is.” You offered, and you found that you meant it. As much as it hurt to say, you really, really meant it. Sirius had been fighting and running his entire life, and he finally won. If he wanted to celebrate his victory by taking off to be that rich, vague uncle who popped by with lavish gifts every so often, who were you to deny him? 

You loved him.

You were in love with him.

You loved him enough to let him go. 

*ೃ༄.ೃ࿐

He had sent James a postcard a few weeks later. Turns out he started in the South of France; his family had a home there that had been left untouched by the war, and Sirius was going to start by figuring out what to do with the property. 

And you? Well, you found out you were pregnant. 

You suppose it was a small mercy that Sirius wasn’t here to know; you’re sure it would have hurt more hearing him tell you he was leaving if there were two of you he couldn’t find it in him to love. You would have hated it even more if he felt trapped into staying with you just for this.

But all this meant was that you couldn’t stay, either. 

You supposed that was alright, though; the life you wanted to build here was with Sirius. You loved your friends, but you had a little one to think about now, too. 

You made up a story about a great aunt needing help tending to her property and wishing to be closer to your relatives now that you could be, now that it was safe. No one questioned it, likely because Remus had done the same following the war; moving back home to help his dad and ailing mother tend the property in whatever ways he could. 

You found yourself a little cottage, you wrote to the boys and had the occasional phone call with Lily, and you grew.

It had felt like a good idea at the time. 

But now you were almost six months pregnant and returning home for the first time since you moved to celebrate your nephew’s birthday with all of your closest friends, the love of your life whose child you were carrying, and none of them knew. 

You wondered if you should even go, but the thought of missing out on sweet Harry’s second birthday that the lot of you almost never got the chance to see made your throat constrict with tears you refused to shed since the war. 

You wondered if you should tell everyone before you arrived, but the thought of them all discussing you and your pregnancy without you being there left you feeling small and ashamed. 

You wondered if you should tell Sirius, but you looked over at the stack of unopened letters he had sent to you in the past four months - the first thin, perhaps a postcard, the second and third were thicker, the fourth was by far the thickest (like he had drafted an autobiography that he wanted you to proofread for him), the fifth was similar to the second, whilst the sixth (the last) couldn’t be more than one page - and wondered how the hell you’d even start that conversation after all this time.

Hey, remember me? Yeah, the bird who caught feelings during our friends with benefits situation that we both agreed would remain platonic amidst a battle for survival and then begged you to stay with no success? Well, whilst you’ve been off probably shagging every beautiful woman across the British Isles, I’ve been pregnant. Right, with your child. How was France, by the way? 

You swallowed around your gag reflex and groaned at your image in the mirror. You put on a pair of gingham pants with the baggiest band-tee you could find, planned on sucking in the best you could if anyone (when everyone) insisted on a hug and hoped to every deity that they all just assumed you’d been eating really well since the end of the war. 

You smoothed the fabric over your bump one last time before you left - looking at the proof that, if nothing else, you were protecting more than just yourself, and you let that be enough - before you grabbed Harry’s birthday present and called for Potter Manor, throwing a fistfull of floo powder into your fireplace and travelling by way of the flames. 

You could hear Harry squealing in delight in one of the adjacent rooms as you stepped into the floo reception room at Potter Manor; a smile taking over your face uninhibitedly at the sounds of the people you loved more than life itself, happy and celebrating.

How could you have gone so long without this? 

“Y/N!” Lily shrieked as she made for you, and you sucked in before returning her hug. “Merlin, you're glowing! Where’s your aunt's place again?” 

“Erm. Killarney.” You offered; not entirely untrue - you did have an aunt in Killarney. 

“Well,” she let out with a breath, eyes turning a touch glassy as they darted across your face, “it seems that Irish air’s been for you.” 

You smiled back at your friend before pulling her back in for another hug. “I’ve missed you, Lils.”

“Don’t let it go so long next time, yeah? We can come to you, too; I’m teaching James how to be a muggle, and Harry’s only had the odd burst of accidental magic yet. We could play the part in front of your aunt.” 

“I’d love that, Lily.” You responded earnestly. 

“Y/N!” James hollered then before you were being bodily tackled by the former quidditch chaser, a brief flash of anxiety at his hold around your stomach abating only when he relinquished his hold on you. “Where in the sodding hell have you been!?”

“Killarney.” Lily answered for you. 

“I love Killarney!” 

“Have you ever been to Killarney, Prongs?” Remus asked then, appearing in the door as he leaned against the archway. 

“No! But I love it there! I just know it!” 

“Hey Moony.” You greeted, quickly accepting his open arms and breathing him in.

“We’ve missed you.” He murmured into your hair, and you couldn’t help the traitorous hitch in your heart that he might’ve meant-

“Uncle Pafoo!” Harry squealed, suddenly standing right underneath you. 

“That’s right, Haz!” The voice that haunts your dreams called out. “Auntie is here!”

“Hullo, Harry!” You cheered as you picked him up, sucking in before settling on your hip. “Happy birthday, little dude.” 

“Am two!” He announced as he held up four fingers. 

“You are two! Way to go!” You laughed. “Is everyone here?” You asked the room, shooting Sirius a tight smile so you couldn’t be accused of hostility when your heart stuttered for an entirely different reason. 

He looked tired - a bone deep tired that no amount of sleep could rectify - and the bags under his eyes seemed to be chronic. But he was still so beautiful; his hair had grown slightly longer since the last time you’d seen it, the last time you’d run your fingers through it, the last time you’d brought sheers to it, and he donned more than a few new tattoos if the few you could see were enough to go by. 

You had to look away.

“Reg’s going to be by after work; his part-time student called in sick so he needed to be there to close the shop himself. Thankfully, they’re only open in the morning on Sunday’s.” Remus explained kindly.

“Good, it’ll be nice to see him.” You offered, and the room fell slightly awkward.

“Uncle Pafoo, aeroplane?” Harry asked then, and whatever exhaustion seemed to be plaguing Sirius vanished as he beamed at his godson. 

“Absolutely, little man!” He agreed, holding his arms out and taking Harry’s weight from you.

“Do you want something to drink, Y/N? Wine? Beer, Cider? Juice? Water?” James rapid fire, causing Lily to groan. 

“We just got her back, Potter. Do try to control yourself.” 

“Water would be great, Jamie. Thank you.” You laughed, following the group into the open concept kitchen-to-living room. 

Save the fact that you and Sirius seemed to be doing acrobatics to avoid each other, you were almost stunned at how easy and natural being back here felt. Regulus returned and the two of you shared friendly jibes, Lily caught you up on all of the drama at the Ministry, James strong armed you into agreeing to join them for their next pub quiz night, and Remus said that your old professors all wished you well. 

You loved your cottage - the home you’d built for yourself and your little one - but you found yourself feeling homesick for here, and you hadn’t even left yet.

You were leaning on your elbows against the kitchen island, watching Sirius and Regulus pretend to be knights in shining armour as they fought off a fire breathing dragon (Harry) to save the princess (James) when Remus appeared beside you and mirrored your stance. 

“It’s not the same without you, you know?” He murmured then. 

“But they seem to be alright.” You responded simply, and Remus allowed the two of you to fall into silence for a few beats.

“How far along are you?” 

You stood up straight and turned to stare at him in horror, only to see him smiling kindly at you. 

“How do you-”

“Lycanthropy - I could smell it on you.” He said with an embarrassed wrinkle of his nose. “I knew Lily was pregnant before she did.”

You shushed him and looked over your shoulder to ensure no one else could hear you.

“Come.” He said with a sigh, gently taking you by the elbow and ushering you out of the sliding doors to the back yard and closing it behind the two of you. 

“Remus-”

“Is it his?” He cut you off; his face held no judgement though perhaps just a touch of concern. For you or his best friend/virtual brother-in-law, you weren’t sure.

“Yes.” You whispered, not bothering to clarify who he was talking about; you both knew. 

Remus simply nodded as he looked you over. “Is that why you left?”

“He left first.” You hissed petulantly.

“He left you, but you left all of us.” Remus countered somewhat sternly. “Besides, I didn’t ask about him; is this why you left?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” 

“Because, Remus!” You shouted, tears flooding your vision as you turned to look at him. “Because he didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want this, he didn’t want me. I wasn’t going to force him to come back just because… just because.” 

“Don’t you think he should have been able to make that choice for himself?” Remus asked gently.

“He chose! He did choose! He told me he couldn’t play house, he told me he couldn’t be this person for me. I loved him enough to accept that. I loved him enough to let him go.”

“Loved?” Remus asked with a tilt of his head. “Past tense?” 

“Remus.” You groaned. “Please.”

“He came back for you, you know.” Remus pointed out. “He left you, you left us, but he came back for you.” 

“Stop it.”

“It’s true, Y/N.”

“And so what if it is?” You nearly sobbed. “So what if he did, Remus? What can I do? I can’t go back in time and change my mind, I can’t go back and fix this. He made choices, I made choices, and here we are.” 

Remus heaved a sigh and looked at you sadly. “I don't think either of you realise that your choices don’t have to remain permanent; there can be an expiration date on them.” 

You were catching your breath from your mini temper tantrum when you heard the glass door slide open, both you and Remus turning to see Sirius standing there almost shy - far shier than you’d ever seen him before.  

“Just talk to him? Okay? You..don’t have to tell him now, just…talk to him.” Remus whispered before heading towards the door, clapping Sirius on the back before disappearing back into the house. 

“Hey.” Sirius offered cautiously after a few beats of silence, coming to stand beside you as the two of you looked over the railing of the patio to the rest of the manor grounds. 

“Hey.” You returned dumbly, clearing your throat before continuing. “You…you look good, Sirius.”

Sirius scoffed, and you could feel your shoulder rising before you saw him smirk at you - if not somewhat sadly - cutting you a playful glare from the corner of his eye. “Did you take up lying there in Ireland?” 

You let out a breathy half-laugh. “I’m not lying.” 

“Then you need glasses. I look like shite.”

“You look tired.” You amended. 

“I’m exhausted.” He agreed, and the two of you lapsed into silence. 

“You look good, though.” He continued. “Healthy.”

You hummed in agreement. “Funny what not having to run on rations and broken hours of sleep on military cots does for a person.”

“Why haven’t I heard from you, Y/N?” He blurted then, turning his entire body to face you. 

“Sirius, I-”

“Everyone else has. You’ve spoken to Lily on the phone. James and Remus have gotten letters. Even Reg got a postcard for his birthday.” 

“I’m sorry.” Was all you could manage to say.

“I wrote to you.” He continued. “Letters, a lot. Did you get them?”

You nodded your head yes shamefully.

“Did you read them?”

You felt your heart splinter at how hopeful and heartbroken he sounded over it. You felt like scum of the earth when you shook your head no, and he let out a sigh.

“I guess that makes me feel a little bit better, then.” He said as he lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. 

You found yourself taking a step away from him when you asked “why does that make you feel better?”

He let out a humourless laugh that forced smoke from his lips. “At least now I know that my begging for a second chance, begging you to come home, professing my love for you isn’t what kept you away.”

“Sirius-”

“I messed up, Y/N.” He declared earnestly. “I…I was fucking scared, terrified. I’d spent so much of my life living with one foot on the threshold of hell that after the war, I didn’t know how to live amongst the undead.”

He took a moment to catch his breath as if he’d run all the way here just to tell you something. “And I ran. I bolted, I…”

“You left.” You finished for him. 

“I left.” He agreed. “I… I didn’t know, Y/N.”

“Didn’t know what?” You asked as you choked back tears.

“Didn’t know what I had, or what I wanted. Or that I had everything that I wanted.”

“And you do, now? You know what you want?” You asked, and a look of determination painted his features as he met your gaze head on.

“For my entire life, I had never known what family meant, so I wasn’t even aware that I’d created my own with all of you until I’d risked it all. I was so sure I didn’t want to be like my parents that I never realised I may actually…want to be a parent someday. I was so sure I didn’t want to be my father that I never realised I actually did want to be a partner someday. I was so certain I’d never know what true love felt like that I didn’t even realise I had it right here all along with you.” 

“Sirius-”

“I messed up. I left. But what I don’t understand is why you did. Or why you stayed away.” He took a step towards you with his cigarette long forgotten in one of his hands, the ash threatening to burn his fingers before you plucked it and stubbed it out on the stone railing. He barely flinched. “Why’d you go?”

“I didn’t want to sit around and wait for you, Sirius. I- it hurt, I was hurt. And then-”

“I’m sorry.” He offered quickly, but you shook your head.

“I’m not telling you this for you to be sorry, I just-”

“I came back for you.”

“But it wasn’t just about me anymore, Sirius!” You shouted then, and you watched his brows furrow before his face fell in horror. 

“You’re seeing someone.” He asked, though he phrased it as more of a statement; like he’d been expecting it.

“I’m not seeing anyone, Sirius.” You sighed.

“Then why’d you leave? Why’d you stay away?”

“Because I’m pregnant.” You blurted, and Sirius fell silent. “I’m almost six months pregnant.”

“Six-” He started, eyes falling to your stomach still hidden behind the baggy article of clothing before you smoothed the fabric over your ever rounding bump. “Six months. Six…”

You let him do the maths in the head as he stared hard at your stomach like he was sitting in divination and it was a crystal ball that might just give him the answers if only he stared at it long enough.

“It’s mine?” He finally concluded.

“Yes.” You whispered.

“It’s mine. You’re pregnant, it’s mine.” He murmured, before his eyes met yours again. “You’re pregnant with my child?”

“Right.” You agreed, and he crumpled to a heap on the floor. 

“Sirius Orion Black,” Sirius heard Remus hiss, clearly hovering somewhere over him, “I swear to Godric if you do not wake up and eat some of this godsdamned vanilla cake you bought, your brother is going to skin you alive.” 

“It’s true.” James agreed from somewhere on Sirius’ other side. “He actually ran to the store when he found out you bought vanilla because he knew Remus wouldn’t eat any of it. Remus is going to get his chocolate cake, and you’re going to get egged.” 

“Shut up.” Sirius hissed as he scrunched his eyes closed. “Fuck.”

“How do you feel, mate?” James asked rather jovially as he clapped him roughy on the shoulder.

“Like hell.”

“Why’s that?” Remus joined in.

“Because I was in the middle of a dream and you sods woke me up going on about cake.” He muttered as he opened his eyes, realising then that he’d been propped up on a number of cushions in one of Lily and James’ spare rooms.

“S’he awake?” Lily whispered, and Sirius craned his neck to see you and Lily poke your heads into the room.

“Oh my gods.” Sirius breathed as he sat up, likely far too fast for someone who fell unconscious mere moments ago. “Oh my gods, you’re actually here?” 

“Did you hit your head, mate?” James asked as he prodded at Sirius’ head, causing Sirius to swat his arms away as he shifted towards the edge of the bed.

“You’re here.” He whispered as you slowly made your way into the room.

“I’m here.” You offered cautiously, eyes darting around at your oldest friends like there might be some secret threat lurking in the room.

“You’re pregnant…” He tried then, punching the air right out of Lily and James who both spun to stare at you in shock.

You smoothed the fabric of your shirt over your midsection again to expose a very obvious (now that everyone could actually see it) baby bump. 

“Oh my gods!” Lily and James chorused, causing Remus to snort.

“You knew, didn’t you!?” Lily accused Remus who held his hands up in surrender. 

“Only when she walked in, and not a second sooner.” 

“With my child.” Sirius continued, and you nodded at him. 

“Y/N.” Lily winced. “You-”

“You sodding scared me!” You shrilled then, grabbing one of the throw pillows James had dumped onto the ground to make room for Sirius and swinging it at him.

“I scared you!?” Sirius shrieked right back, much to the delight of Harry who started banging on the throw pillow that had landed beside him. 

“I thought I killed you!”

“Oh, well I’m terribly sorry that finding out the woman I’ve been in love with for years and pining hopelessly over for months - who was missing for all intents and purposes, may I remind you - is pregnant with my child happened to be a little shocking.” Sirius sneered sarcastically. 

“Well I only went ‘missing’ because the man I’ve been hopelessly in love with for years and pining hopelessly over for months took off an-” The abrupt end of your statement nearly gave the room whiplash as you cut yourself off mid sentence and stared at Sirius like you’d never seen him before. 

“What…what just happened?” James whispered carefully.

“Years?” You whispered then, and Sirius hated every version of himself that deigned to let you go without knowing just how loved you were.

“Probably when we were still just cosmic dust.” Sirius smiled sadly. “I’m sorry I didn’t always realise, I’m sorry I didn’t make sure that you knew.”

“I take it to guess there isn’t an aunt in Killarney?” Lily offered then, smiling kindly at you when you turned your attention towards her.

“No, I- I think there actually is an aunt in Killarney, I just don’t live with her.”

“Where do you live?” Sirius asked eagerly, wondering if you could hear it in his voice or even see on his face just how desperate he was to know everything about you.

“Near Tintagel.” You offered abashedly as Remus slapped his hand on his thigh.

“You minx!” He scolded you. “You lived basically across the channel from me this whole time!”

“I hope it’s nice, wherever it is” You offered him then, smiling through your tears as Sirius swallowed around his bile threatening its way up his oesophagus.

“I hope it’s nice.” Sirius blurted suddenly, and Sirius thanked the heavens for Remus John Lupin who seemed to understand that the conversation delved beyond the need of an audience, scooping Harry up and closing the door behind Lily, James, and himself to give you two some privacy. 

“It’s nice.” You offered wetly. “It’s quiet.”

Sirius hummed in acknowledgement. “In Tintagel, near Merlin’s cave?”

You laughed, which saw Sirius smiling. “I’m not right in Tintagel, just outside. My neighbours are mostly sheep.” 

“Does it have a picket fence?”

“To keep the sheep out of my garden.” You nodded with a smile.

“Flowers; lots of them.” Sirius deduced, you nodded again though Sirius watched your smile falter.

“You’d probably hate it.”

“Are you there?” He asked quickly.

“Well, usually, yes.” You offered, and Sirius shrugged easily.

“Sounds as though it might be my favourite place in the world, then.” 

The next breath that left you shuddered on its way out, and Sirius finally stood and met you in the middle of the room; close enough to touch but not daring to. He hadn’t earned that right yet. 

“Take me with you?” He all but begged then, and your face crumpled in misery.

“Sirius, I don’t want you to follow me because you have to, I-”

“I don’t have to though, I know I don’t; I know you’d never make me.” He assured you then, lifting a hand but pausing to wait for you to nod at him before he placed it on your upper arm. “The letters, Y/N, I- I’ve been looking for you for months.”

A sob tore through you as you lowered your head, and Sirius allowed himself to catch it in his free hand. 

“I don’t want you to feel bad; I’m not telling you so that you feel bad, love.” The endearment falling off his tongue so easily now that he had you in his arms. “But I need you to know that I want you - any of you, all of you - and have for a very long time.” 

“It’s just…you said-” and Sirius knew exactly what he said; he had played that conversation over and over and over in his mind until he found himself sick over it more than once. But we waited for you to tell him anyhow; he’d always wait for you. “You couldn’t settle down and be content, you couldn’t play house; you weren’t that kind of guy.” 

“I know, doll. I know.” He whispered. “I…I didn’t think I was capable of it. I didn’t think I deserved everything I wanted and I knew that you deserved better. That you deserve better.”

“But?”

“But I’d be happy to spend the rest of my life trying to prove you otherwise; trying to give you everything you deserve.”

“Sirius…” You sighed, and Sirius could see your walls cracking. “I…I’m-”

“Take me home? Please?” He begged then, words interrupted by a sob of his own. “To Tintagel, to Killarney, to bloody fucking Azkaban or the bottom of the sodding ocean, I don’t care where it is just as long as it’s with you, please. Please.”

Your hands landed on Sirius’ chest and he was sure you could feel his hummingbird heart beating under your fingertips. He only hoped you knew how it beat for you. 

“Please bring me home?”

James didn’t know if he could consider this a success or not. 

His motivation was not singular; it was a ‘hit two fairies with one gobstone’ sort of scenario, so to speak. Was his son turning two? Indeed he was! Was James throwing a party for said son’s birthday? You’re damned right he was. But was it also a really good excuse to force two of his idiot best friends into the same room again? Absolutely.

Except James seems to have gotten slightly more than he bargained for; Sirius falling unconscious in his childhood backyard, you sobbing into Lily’s shoulder out in the hallway as he and Remus tried to bring him back from the dead, Remus sneering at a slice of birthday cake like it personally offended him and Regulus threatening to defend his boyfriend’s honour, and - apparently - a new niece or nephew coming in the next three-ish months. 

But when he looked over to see you and Sirius emerging from the spare room - both of your faces tear stained and puffy from the grief and torment you no doubt put yourselves through - hands intertwined between your bodies and your hand resting protectively over your growing bump, and a spark in Sirius’ eyes James had thought he lost in the war but now realised he only lost when he lost you…

…yeah, James figured he could probably consider this a success.

[lightseoul]

Hiii congrats on 2k! Can you please do no. 22 for this event. Love you💗

hello, nonnie! thank you so much for the greetings <3 and yes, of course! this was so fun to write lol it practically wrote itself. hope this one makes y'all laugh! and love you too 😚

(this is lightseoul’s 2k milestone event ft. bakugou katsuki! to play, view the numbered list of prompts here, then simply send an ask with your chosen number and i’ll whip something up!)

22. "ARE YOU SINGLE?" (1.3k)

none of this would’ve happened if shitty hair—the hulking brute of a gentleman he begrudgingly calls his best friend—didn’t notice.

they were just taking a short albeit much-needed water break at the tail end of the day-shift patrol, the unforgiving sun having pushed them to near dehydration (as it always does) as they guarded this rather quiet part of the city.

and to be fair, it’s not like he did it on purpose.

he was just briefly but thoroughly scanning the area, like a responsible pro-hero on duty would, when his eyes laid on you.

“what was that?” kirishima, who just downed an entire 500 mL liter of cold water they got from the convenience store a block away, suddenly pipes up from right beside him.

“what.”

when the redhead doesn’t say anything for a beat, bakugou chances a glance at him, only to find the man sporting a shit-eating grin.

bakugou feels himself bristle.

kirishima’s grin only widens. “you just did a double take at that girl.”

“what girl?” bakugou grits out, feigning ignorance.

but any plans he had to keep that charade up practically fly out the proverbial window when the damned hardening hero moves to unabashedly point in your direction, and before his mind can catch up, his body lunges forward to restrain the man’s arm.

the man in question laughs. “i knew it.”

bakugou only scowls at him before shoving him away, as if he wasn’t the one who threw himself onto the guy in panic. kirishima takes it in stride, though, used to years of his friend’s rough treatment, taking the opportunity to look at you instead.

“ooh, she is cute.”

“shut up.”

bakugou fights the urge to follow his friend’s line of vision, knowing all too well what’ll greet him at the end of it.

he admits his gaze might’ve lingered a beat too long, not that he’ll ever admit that to his patrol buddy.

no, he’s taking that secret with him to the grave.

“let’s go say hi.”

bakugou instantly looks up in alarm, but before he can lunge forward again and hold the stupid fucking man back, kirishima is already up and crossing the street, the traffic lights having conveniently turned green for pedestrians just a moment ago.

he pauses for a second, the urge to flee and hide from you before his best friend does something to embarrass him and the curious need to go do say hi raging a tug of war inside of him.

but if there’s one thing he knows for certain as a pro-hero, it’s that a second’s worth of hesitation can cause irrevocable damage.

and so with gritted teeth, he follows suit and crosses the street, and in just a few strides, he finds himself trailing slightly behind the redhead, who’s now merely several feet from where you’re standing, holding to your chest what seems to be a clipboard.

you notice kirishima first, probably having heard the heavy booted footsteps of the two men, turning on your heel at the sound. your eyes widen at the sight, before your face morphs into a look of recognition and… pleasant surprise?

“oh gosh—” you start, eyes annoyingly fixed on his best friend, “—red riot, hello!”

“heya, …” kirishima trails off, and you promptly supply him with your name.

his pr prince of a best friend beams at you. “nice to meet ya!”

and only then does his presence seem to register to you, because your gaze finally drifts to him, and your smile falters for just a millisecond before you school your features into a polite expression.

“hello, mr. dynamight, sir.”

he feels his eye twitch at the salutation, and he doesn’t have to look at the pro-hero beside him to know that the guy is watching the scene before him in mild amusement. he doesn’t know how else to respond if not to ask you why the fuck he’s being treated so formally while you regard shitty hair with subtle familiarity, so he settles with a grunt.

that seems enough to satisfy you, though, because you swiftly turn back to kirishima. “my best friend is a huge fan of yours, by the way.”

and as kirishima readily accepts the compliment and thanks you, bakugou finds his mind singlehandedly honing on what you just said.

your best friend is a huge fan of kirishima, not you.

also, that means your best friend is a fan of his best friend.

and if the four of you were to pair up, perhaps on a double date…

bakugou shakes his head at the thought, and perhaps too aggressively, because he catches both of your attention, the two of you glancing at him with worry.

“you okay, bakubro?”

he steals a glance in your direction, which he instantaneously regrets, because he makes eye contact with you. he immediately averts his gaze, choosing to face the guy instead.

“‘m fine.”

kirishima hesitates. “you sure?”

bakugou only tosses him a glare.

“i’m gonna take that as a yes,” kirishima shoots back, before returning the smile on his face and shifting to regard you. “anyway, we were just taking a short break from patrol and wanted to check in. everything alright here?”

that apparently is enough to make you light up. bakugou’s gut churns in what is absolutely not jealousy.

“yeah, thanks!” you reply, gratitude bleeding into your tone. “i was just—” you trail off, eyes shifting down to that clipboard you’ve been clutching this entire time, before: “you know what, do you guys have a minute?”

“sure!”

“no.”

kirishima whips to look at him. “come on, bakubro! let’s help the citizens out, yeah?”

and bakugou doesn’t know why or how, but his mouth runs off before his brain or heart can dictate to him what to say.

“yeah,” he mutters, “for all i know, this is just a fucking pyramid scheme.”

instantly, the air around the three of you goes quiet.

that is, until kirishima pipes up. “he’s just joki—”

“thanks, red riot—” you cut him off, much to bakugou’s surprise, his eyes shooting up to look at you whose lips are now pulled into a tight line.

“—but i think only dynamight here fits my research’s inclusion criteria.”

your what?

and before he could even comprehend the last three words you just uttered, you bring up your clipboard and pen like you’re about to jot something down, and hit him with it.

“are you single?”

bakugou only gawks at you, too stunned to speak. although he apparently doesn’t have to, because you continue.

“are you?” you repeat, before laughing dryly. “of course you are, what with that fucking attitude…”

at that, kirishima instantly barks out a genuine laugh, his booming voice reverberating throughout the street, even startling the cat perched on top of those large garbage disposals.

bakugou, on the other hand, only gapes at you in horror, because who would’ve thought the pretty girl from across the street was a fucking rude ass potty mouth?

a fucking rude ass potty mouth who could clock him like that?

“does he tend to go speechless like this?” you ask kirishima a few moments later, who’s still shaking in suppressed laughter.

“no,” the pro-hero finally replies after catching his breath. “you’re the first one i’ve ever seen make him this way.”

“really?” you reply, voice low and laced with sarcastic disbelief.

“he is actually single, though,” kirishima quickly adds, much to his chagrin. “…if you’re interested.”

as if on cue, you finally turn to look at bakugou, and he—swear to god—feels his heart stop when you glance at him, something akin to curiosity hidden amidst your features.

but he doesn’t get to bask in it, though, or in its implications, because his dipshit of a best friend drawls on.

“if you are, though, that’s great—”

oh, don’t make him do it.

“—because he finds you very much attra—”

BAM!

[prythianpages]

Tonight, the Light of Love is in Your Eyes

Azriel x Rhysand's Sister (reader) | You find yourself in the middle of a political affair, where you seek refuge in a dance with Azriel. And in the spur of the moment, Azriel tells you he loves you for the first time.

warnings: secret love, implied smut (brief mention), you and az being impulsive and risking it all

word count: 1,900

a/n: I used the dialogue of this scene from The Witcher as a prompt for this fic.

“Hybern is still close to Spring. Though they’ve lost the war, it seems their alliance still stands. Bradwell has shown interest in her, it’d be best if she takes his favor tonight. Or even Tamlin’s, they are closer in age.”

Your gaze is fixed forward, but your mind drifts, creeping into the quiet mental conversation between your father and brother. They speak of you, as if your own desires are inconsequential, and it stings more than you let show.

“Why should she? When the High Lord of Autumn, who fought alongside our armies, has six sons and one on the way…”

Breathe in, breathe out. You force the command on yourself, struggling to maintain the composure you’ve perfected over years of courtly life. The mask you wear feels more fragile tonight, your heart threatening to crack the facade. 

You allow your eyes to wander and regret it when you meet the gaze of Bradwell–the eldest son of Spring. He is watching you, green eyes gleaming with a predatory sharpness, his smirk oozing arrogance. As if you’re a prize to be won–a prize already won. The sight of it turns your stomach. 

It’s instinctual almost–the way your eyes gravitate toward Azriel as they always do at the slightest discomfort. He’s been your anchor, your safety blanket for years. He stands just a few steps below you, tall and stoic. 

His hands are clenched into fists, shadows weaving and writhing along his limbs in a frenzy, whispering secrets to him that you ache to hear. His head is turned toward Bradwell and there’s no doubt his gaze is hardened into an icy composure when the eldest of Spring suddenly peels his gaze off of you.  

As you pull your gaze away from the Night Court’s Spymaster, you catch your mother’s eye. She sits beside your father on a much simpler throne. She sends you a sympathetic smile and you cast your gaze down, mask faltering as a blush creeps up your neck.

By the Cauldron, how you wish you could be anywhere but here. You’d much rather be alongside Cassian and Mor, who are most likely indulging in the fine wine and cheeses. The only redeeming part of these insufferable court parties.

“Is it not best to keep our most at-risk enemies close? Spring–”

Your body tenses, each muscle coiling as you listen to the words between your brother and father, their minds still unaware of your presence within them. It’s laughable, almost. Rhysand taught you well. You were a later bloomer when it came to the manifestation of your powers but the daemati power runs strong in you. 

Movement catches your eye. It’s Bradwell. He begins to make his way toward you, one hand already reaching for the sage-green handkerchief embroidered with a golden beast. A token you know he plans to offer. The sight of it makes something in you snap. You can’t take it anymore.

You whip your head around, your heart pounding, and your gaze finds Azriel once more—the only one you want. The only one you’ve ever wanted.

“Azriel, will you dance with me?”

The words escape your lips before you even realize you’ve said them. There’s a brief moment where the world seems to still as Azriel turns to meet your gaze. His eyes widen slightly, shadows pausing briefly in midair–the only sign of emotion he shows. 

But you feel a flutter in your chest.

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s danced with you. The two of you have danced plenty of times before. However, it’d be the first time you’d give him your first dance. A notion that seems silly but held to a high esteem in the Court of Nightmares.

You feel your father’s and Rhysand’s gaze also on you–the latter’s eyes narrowing at you. He’s already sensed the lingering presence you left in his mind, and you can feel his talons scratching at the edges of your mental walls. But you hold steady, just as he taught you and push him away.

Azriel keeps his eyes on you yet his shadows peer over his shoulders, the dark tendrils darting back and forth between your brother and father. Cautious and a bit defensive.

It’s your mother who breaks the silence. She had kept her gaze on the dance floor in front of her, that same knowing smile playing on her lips. “It is impolite to keep a lady waiting.”

Azriel nods his head. “Of course.”

He shifts forward–one foot resting on the first step while the other remains on the ground floor. He extends his scarred hand to you, his shadows barely able to contain their excitement, betraying the cool mask he dons.

You smile—truly smile—as you place your hand in his, and together, you walk toward the dance floor. Your heart swells with defiance as you purposefully avert your eyes when passing Bradwell, chin held high. Rhysand’s mental claws scratch harder, desperate to break through your defenses. You continue to shut him out, strengthening the walls of your mind. 

The Cauldron simmers in your favor. As you reach the dance floor, the music shifts to a slower, more romantic melody. Azriel’s hand wraps around yours, his fingers enclosing around your palm while his other hand rests gently at the small of your back. The tension in your body melts under his touch and you find yourself leaning in closer to him, your body always yearning to be with his.

Shadows slither softly around you, hiding within the seams of your black dress like a protective shield. Azriel’s eyebrows furrow and you recognize the brief distant look in his eyes. “Rhys is not happy,” he murmurs. “Your first dance was supposed to be with the eldest son of Spring.”

His jaw clenches and you see the way his shadows curl tighter around him as if to suffocate the jealousy he dares not voice.

“Let him sulk. I get to decide who to dance with, who to be with.”

Azriel was the master of composure. He’s always calm, steady, controlled. But tonight, something in his gaze feels different. There’s something vulnerable there, something pained. He looks away for a moment, as if trying to keep his emotions from manifesting further. 

“I can’t offer you what he can..."

His hand twitches in yours, like he’s about to pull away, but you hold him tighter. “Good,” you respond without hesitation. “I don’t want anything that arrogant ass has to offer.”

Azriel’s eyes snap back to yours, searching, conflicted. He hesitates, as if still grappling with the part of himself that believes he doesn’t deserve this. That you deserve more, much better than him. Someone who can give you the world, not someone who only knows to live in the shadows.

You intertwine your fingers with his, lips curling into a small grin. “Your ass is the only one I want,” you add, your power reaching out to him and gently slipping past his defenses to show him the marvelous view you had of his backside earlier.

And as your thoughts drift to the last night you shared together, where you got to see all of him, Azriel lets out an exhale, his lips mirroring the upwards curl to yours. Taking advantage of the grip you have on his mind, you show him more memories from that night. The way his scarred hands had caressed every inch of your body, his lips following the path his hands made…

 “I can’t give you much,” Azriel’s voice had dropped to a whisper, barely a rasp as he leaned his forehead against yours. His nose brushed with yours, lips hovering right over your own.  “But I can give you everything I have.”

You smiled softly at him, your fingers brushing the side of his face, tracing every line and contour of the male who held your heart. So beautiful, so perfect. 

“That’s all I’ll ever need,” you replied and then closed the small gap between you to kiss him.

The pained look in his hazel eyes melts into something warmer, something sweeter, as he takes in the memories of that night through your eyes. He had never doubted your love, but the weight of his own insecurities—his belief that he was beneath you—constantly gnawed at him.

Every time he touched you in secret, every night you spent hidden away together, he feared that someday you might wake up and realize he wasn’t enough.

But here, dancing with you, the way your eyes held him, he felt that overwhelming doubt ease. To see and feel the depth of your sincerity, as if your very soul called out to his…

“I love you.”

Your heart stilled at the words, your step faltering. In a smooth maneuver, Azriel spins you around, catching you effortlessly before you could stumble. His hands steady you as you face him once more.

 “That’s the first time you’ve said that,” you breathe, your voice barely a whisper, though you know Azriel’s shadows are already ensuring no one else can hear your words.

“It can’t be,” Azriel murmurs in disbelief, brows furrowing slightly. 

“You used to think it,” you quietly admit, your gaze dropping for a moment before returning to his. It wasn’t that you had ever meant to pry, but when it was just the two of you, his mind was often at ease, unguarded. Sometimes, his thoughts would be too loud for you to ignore. “But tonight, you finally said it.”

The shadows hidden within the lacey seams of your dress stir and you watch as one of the shadows lingering over Azriel’s shoulders slithers up and curls around his ear. His grip on you tightens and your ears perk up. 

The song is coming to an end and though couples continue to dance and whirl around you, your nose picks up on an approaching scent. Fresh wildflowers and oak—rich and lovely, exuding the essence of Spring. Yet it fills you with dread. You don’t want this moment to end. You’re tired of pretending, of living this life of secrecy.

“Azriel,” you say, one hand reaching out toward his face to turn his attention back to you. A bold move but tonight, you’re ready to be even bolder. “Kiss me.”

His shadows stir, swirling anxiously around him, their whispers warning that too many eyes are upon you both. You can feel his hesitation, the unspoken question in his gaze as he searches your face.

“In front of everyone,” you confirm. Show them I’m yours, you speak into his mind, and only yours.

Azriel pauses, his chest tightening at the implication of your words. He can feel Rhysand’s presence–furious and demanding– trying to slip into his mind. No doubt trying to steer him away from this impulsive display and away from you. 

He feels the weight of the room pressing down on him—the sons of Spring and Autumn watching his every breath.

But all of that falls away when he meets your eyes again. 

There is only you in this moment.

The one who had always been able to see through his walls, the one who made him feel like the most precious thing in the room, the only one he cared about.

“Kiss me,” you whisper again.

And Azriel is not going to let you ask a third time.

Not when the light of love is shining so brightly in your eyes. His hand covers yours on his cheek, and then, he leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that silences the room.

Whatever comes next, you’ll face it together.

a/n: It's been awhile since I wrote for Az. Miss this shadow daddy lol. Part 2 is already up 🫶🏽 you can find it here.

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human @mrsjna, @adventure-awaits13, @lorosette

fic tag: @noisyinfluencerstrawberry

[erens-heart]

levi ackerman 𑄽ᧉྀི

summary: you share your first kiss with the captain.

cw: canon universe, fem!bodied reader, sad reader comforting a sad levi, mentions of war and death, sloppy kissing turns into an angry makeout session, hair pulling, etc, mdni <3

levi ackerman had an apparent disregard for what everybody thought of him; he broke the rules. he had the mettle to make decisions others couldn’t - wouldn’t dare - that’s what made him the perfect captain. he was distant, some would say harsh, and didn’t care to waste his breath spouting nosense about hope.

it wasn’t necessary, he thought, you would all end up dying on him anyway.

despite this, during the little time levi had to himself, he would devise strategies to ensure that you came back alive from each reconnaissance. he would beg erwin to reconsider the formation, so that you could ride next to him on the next mission, where he could keep you safe, although your chances of making it back unscathed were not minimal.

“i don’t give a shit, just make sure she’s next to me. she isn’t as strong as the others.”

he’d bluffed, knowing that you were next in line for his throne, you were nearly as strong as him. to no avail, levi tried to convince himself that was your only value to the survey corps.

you had taught levi more than a few things about softness, and of how to be patient. in the strictest of confidence, he swore an oath to protect you, and would conquer however many titans necessary to fulfil it.

“captain?” you knocked on his door, politely interrupting his concentration.

“what?” he answered curtly, the weight of yesterday’s failed expedition still resting on his shoulders. he glanced up from an empty tea cup, blinking away his exhaustion, “it’s you. i see. what do you need?”

your intentions weren’t obvious, you were off-duty and had no official business in levi’s quarters. he guessed that you needed him for something else. you hesitated, realising that you hadn’t rehearsed any of this before knocking on levi’s door. he frowned at you in exchange.

“i came to see if you were okay?” you said shyly.

“what?” he practically snorted and got up, turning his body away from you so that you wouldn’t see the surprise on his face.

you’d learned to pity your captain. his short body always looked so sore, new scars would appear on his hands, and go unnoticed. you’d once offered to attend to a cut on his knuckles but he’d told you to, quote, “fuck off and mind your own business.”

however, this wasn’t pity that you felt, this was unchartered territory. you were visiting him out of hours, you were worried. you’d been outside the walls, fought titans, and made it back alive, but insinuating that you cared about levi felt, somewhat, scarier.

levi, your captain, of all people.

you took a step deeper into his room, swallowing thickly. you’d always guessed it would be peaceful in his quarters; his room was clean and organised, and he had a candle burning at his bed side. it’s soft light flickered across your face.

“captain. i think you should take a break-“ you paused, treading carefully around the subject of work, “come for a walk with me?”

“what?” he deadpanned, looking up at you in a vain attempt to read you.

you were smiling, but you smiled at everyone, he certainly wasn’t an exception. you were being kind to him but, again, you were kind to everyone, even the assholes.

secondly, he couldn’t deduce what gave you the sudden courage to knock on his door and invite him on a walk - in the middle of the night.

“captain?” you prompted with a keen sparkle in your eyes, unsure what to make of his response, or lack thereof.

“did you have somewhere in mind?” he sighed, finally giving in and putting his cup down.

“somewhere hidden. can be our secret.” you joked, catching him off-guard again.

levi clenched his jaw, painfully aware of the implications should he get caught alone with you. he wouldn’t lose his job, no, it’d be worse than that - he would be teased for the rest of his life!

“sure.” he eventually agreed after pretending to think about it. he took a cloak from his hanger for warmth and, beneath that, he wore a shirt and tight slacks to hide the bruises he’d earned in battle.

he brushed past you, leading the way out, his small shadow dancing on the walls. you could tell that he wasn’t relaxed, he couldn’t relax, and held a permanently stiff posture. could you blame him? all that death on his shoulders, all those lives on the line.

having pulled your hood up to stay hidden, your smile drooped and you looked down at your feet as you followed behind him, wondering what you could possibly say. what could possibly make things better? or change the fate of humanity?

“so. you invited me out for a walk, and now the cat’s got your tongue?” levi asked, breaking the heavy silence.

you dragged your hand mindlessly along the cobblestone walls, and hummed. “there’s isn’t much to say, honestly. just thought it’d do you some good to get out.”

levi chuckled ungenuinely - it was honestly ironic.

“i go outside all the time.” he spoke as he glared at the tunnel ahead. “it’s just unfortunate i have to spend all of that time butchering titans.”

you frowned with him, hugging your cloak to your body you as you emerged from the tunnel onto the training grounds.

it was completely dark outside, save for the two sconces either side of the doorway you were stood in, and the stars twinkling down at you from the heavens. you watched levi’s cold breath make clouds as he exhaled, scanning the field.

“you can relax.” you mumbled, watching him scour the trees for signs of life. it was like he’d developed a reflex for hunting titans, it was instinctual now. he felt the constant prickle of anxiety, you felt it too.

you were so transfixed on levi’s scowl and the determination in his expression, that you had little time to appreciate what beauty was left in your world: the frost, the birds, the wind.

you tugged on levi’s cape, stealing his attention. his hard expression softened.

“sorry. been hard to relax lately.” he admitted, kicking the gravel with his boot.

“you’re the strongest man i know, levi.” your voice cracked,

“i don’t mean physically. i don’t understand how you get up every morning and face the world, and those titans. if- if i were you- i would have given up years ago.” you began messily, clutching your fist against your racing heart.

levi sighed, and cradled your face with his strong hands, furrowing his eyebrows as he peered into you. his hands were freezing, it was a surprise to you that they weren’t numb.

“shut up.” he scolded gently, and looked down at your glistening lips. “i would have given up too, if not for you.”

he brought you closer, snaking one of his thick arms around your waist. levi didn’t care anymore. without a second thought, he surrendered, he couldn’t bear not having you for a second longer, he was but sand in the hourglass of time.

he used his other hand to guide your chin forwards. he pressed his lips softly to yours and your heart stopped, but you pecked him back.

he kissed you so gently, carefully cherishing the taste of you, as if it were his last night on earth.

you kissed him back, holding onto his collar, whilst he made guttural sounds that lit a fire within you. you could feel all of his rough scars tickling your skin as you moaned weakly into his mouth.

crazed, he grabbed your hair from underneath your hood, pulling you into his taut body, so hard that you crashed into him. your hood fell down, revealling tears that would have otherwise gone unnoticed. he wouldn’t dare, but levi felt like crying too.

you kissed his open mouth, licking his tongue sloppily, letting him lick yours too. the way he kissed you gave you butterflies, it was more than what you’d ever imagined. your heart ached, your body tingled, your feelings felt uncontainable.

you smiled at him, sticking your tongue out for him to taste. levi groaned darkly and licked it, again and again, before grabbing a fistful of the hair on the back of your head. he tied his fingers into your hair and gripped it hard before smashing his mouth back into yours again.

you felt so alive you were sure you were going to die.

you pulled back for air after a while. levi looked at you with starving eyes, and followed you backwards into the wall. you parted your legs to make room for his knee, which he pushed up into the space between your legs. he caged your head between his two hands on the wall, gritting his teeth against your ear,

“captain…” you croaked.

“don’t you die on me. ever.” he grunted, pressing his forehead tiredly to the side of your head, breathing raggedly.

“i won’t.”

[kizzer55555]

I just had a Thought that smacked me upside the head and insulted my mother (o.o )

You know how in DC, much like in most media, all Forces have an opposing Force? Fire to Water, Yin to Yang, Order to Chaos, etc etc. Well.....

If you ADD in DP's The Zone?

That right there? Is a Realm. An Element Of Creation. Yes, the glue, the very lining, of the Multiverse. Buuuuuuuut? What is it CONNECTING? The FABRIC? The SHELL and FORM?

What, in a word, is it's Reverse Element? Just as the Speed Force has the Slow Force. As Chaos has Order. What does the Realm of Death have?

I hear you suggest "the living world?" But! Rightfully, you sound uncertain! Because! Death is INHERENT to the so called "living world". Everything is! Order, chaos. Ying, Yang. Fire and water and earth and air! All of it! It's the mid-ground. Shared and thus balanced.

So what sits on the other side of the coin?

I? Propose? Those fffffuckin IMPS! The 5th dimensional imps, known to haunt our beloved DC Heros. Immortal. Eternal. Life unending.

Driven to cruelty and boredom by it.

They are a brilliant, distorted, reflection of the Ghosts we know! Are they not? Not every Imp so powerful as the ones we've seen. But? If, say, Overgrowth or Clockwork? Wanted to just pop in to harrass their favorite Blorbo?

What's a little veil between Realms?

Only thing STOPPING them, is themselves. The Rules. You know... the ones THEY made. Because Goverment. Kinda like the Observants. Walker. Danny and his throne.

I bet they HAAAAAATE each other.

Both have Obsessions, but gods help you if you compare them. Because Ghosts Obsess with the steadiness of the Dead. The unchanging, unrelenting, persistence. While IMPS? Obsessions like firecrackers! Shifting, changing, sticking on this or that! Maybe for a nano-second! Maybe for eons! Who knows?! Not them!

They both think the other side are FREAKS.

The single most OBNOXIOUS, Irritating, Grating, Petty, PATHETIC group of LOSERS you will ever be unfortunate enough to meet.

You think Danny hates the Joker? Is On Sight with HIM? You know NOTHING of his hatred for those big headed little balls of nasally BASTARD energy. It's like weasels and snakes.

Clark loves it. Danny keeps getting free pie. Because EVERY time that Imp comes to harrass him? *unholy staticy yowl screech* *flying tackle out of the air into a cartoonish dust cloud fist fight* here comes the normally cheerful and polite Phantom, looking POSSESSED. To claw Mxyzptlk's throat out.

Of course, the Imps refuse to give up. They were stalking their targets first. PHANTOM should leave.

Phantom shouts something that makes them gasp, deeply offended, and the nearby magic users choke on their own spit.

Yep. Clark LOVES the newest addition to the team. Best decision they ever made, Bruce. He's DELIGHTFUL :D

@the-witchhunter @nerdpoe @ailithnight @hypewinter @hdgnj