#this was posted on ao3 last month but i forgot to make an official post so here it is now

[randomshyperson]

I Put A Spell on You - Wanda Maximoff Kinktober #03

Summary: After a tense week and a training session, Wanda finally had enough of your attitude.

Warnings: (+18), heavy smut with power dynamics,  brat tamer!Wanda and sub!Reader, edging, orgasm denial, slapping, a lot of teasing, blindfold and magical restrictions, enchanted strap, kind of rough,  implied enemies to lovers, some cursing | Words: 3.559k

A/N-> This is almost late. I totally forgot I had to post the stories.

General Masterlist | Kinktober Collection | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

It was Natasha's idea, or at least it was a Black Widow kind of thing.

Most of what Wanda knew about it came from Steve's official report on the training, and the rest of the story came from Sam gossiping around the tower.

But in a nutshell: You had your vision temporarily impaired on the last mission, you were knocked out by it and it almost fucked everything up. Wanda would have thought that this was all it took to diminish your ego a bit, but instead, you and Nat had a weird widow's agreement about eliminating weaknesses or whatever, and this was adapted to your training.

The whole story was the reason you were training with a blindfold on. 

And don't let Natasha hear this, but you were an impressive fighter, even more than the older widow. Somehow you were more agile and stronger than Nat, and it was the kind of thing that made Clint remark worriedly about how much harder your widow training could have been and secretly made Wanda's heart beat faster.

But back to the point: Wanda shared very few training shifts with you. Steve and Nat found peaceful interaction between team members advantageous, so as you didn't get on so well, she had fewer training sessions in your company.

Well, that changed because you seemed determined to prove that you could block blows without seeing them.

"Wow, you're still here." It came out more ironic than she wanted, but Wanda was actually almost impressed. It had been nearly a month since the whole thing had started, and this training was coming after a particularly exhausting mission. She was just going for a quick session - so that the muscles wouldn't lose habit as Steve liked to say - when she found you in the empty tower gym. 

The eyes covered by a black cloth were an almost comical sight, or at least, Wanda assumed that finding it funny was what she was feeling, every time she saw your serious and concentrated form, sweating in the gym.

"Good evening, Wanda." You greeted her without looking at her, your head down. You were listening to her movement she assumed. 

Wanda muttered the greeting back, busy leaving her belongings on the bench and looking for a treadmill. But you cleared your throat. "Don't you want a real challenge?"

She chuckled, rolling her eyes. "Oh, and that would be you, of course."

You smile, your hands behind your body. Wanda thinks she likes the blindfold, it allows her to stare you brazenly, without you even knowing.

"I'm a legendary fighter, yes."

She has to laugh at how naturally you say that. She takes a quick look at the treadmill, and well, smashing your ass really does sound more interesting.

"Okay, real challenge, show me what you've got."

Wanda positions herself on the opposite side of the mat from you, and clears her throat when you remain static.

" Won't you take your shoes off?"

She grimaces softly. Yeah, your hearing was starting to impress. Sighing begrudgingly, she uses magic to make the shoes come off and float away, and before she even has a chance to speak, you do.

"No magic tricks." It sounds like a serious warning, rather than a request, and Wanda doesn't miss a chance to torment you.

"Oh, is that too much for a legendary fighter?" She mocks, but all she gets back is an easy chuckle that she isn't able to reciprocate because you adjust your training gloves and the movement is distracting enough.

After a moment, you get into position. "I'm ready."

"At last." She scoffs, stepping forward. 

Ultimately, she's impressed. And she almost begins to believe that maybe the cloth is fake - there's no chance that you can dodge absolutely all the blows she's so exhaustively learned with such ease. 

It doesn't take long for Wanda to start getting impatient, and for you to start smiling at her, in that smug way that makes her skin itch.

She makes a mistake, and it's enough for you to knock her to the ground.

"Again." You say, standing next to her, equally out of breath but without a scratch. Wanda huffs.

"How the fuck are you doing this?" She asks, getting to her feet with a magical push. You swallow dry, taking a step back, very alert.

"Practice, of course." You mutter. "Are you ready to continue?"

But Wanda narrows her eyes, her head tilting slightly at your sudden alertness. She decides to test a theory, and red sparks appear in the air near your head.

The leap you make in the other direction makes her giggle playfully. 

"Something wrong, darling?"

You grumble, raising a hand in warning, irritably hitting exactly the right spot to point it at her. "Stop this. I told you, no magic."

But Wanda is tired, and she's feeling naughty tonight. Something about your vulnerability makes her body heat up.

She chuckles darkly, taking steps away that only make you swallow dry. "Someone's scared." She sighs, and the sparks appear again. You gasp, clearly anxious and not knowing where to strike.

It's Wanda's fault, there are too many of those and magic is much harder to defend against.

She chuckles at your state, and you snap back almost immediately."That's not funny, Maximoff." 

A magical tug pushes under your knee, behind your elbows, near your foot. Everything makes you jump with fright and sends Wanda into a fit of giggles.

"You're not so cocky when you're scared."

In a desperate attempt, you try to attack the magic, which only disappears into thin air against your skin. Wanda just stands back, watching the scene with amusement.

With an impatient grunt, you raise a finger at her. "Stop this shit, I'm warning you-"

"Don't be rude, darling. I like you best when you're polite." Wanda interrupts, and your exclamation of indignation turns into a grunt of pain when a magical tug forces you to your knees on the mat.

"What the hell?" You gasp, raising your hand to remove the blindfold. 

But the sensation that follows is like ropes grabbing your wrists and pinning your fists behind your back. Your heart is racing at the same moment. "Wanda, what the actual fuck you're doing?"

Although you can't see her, you hear her very well. Her slow steps towards you, until she makes you jump gently when she touches your cheek. You swallow dry. "Stop this bullshit, Wanda, I'm serious."

She pushes her tongue into the roof of her mouth, a clicking sound that makes you swallow dry again. Her fingers caress your cheek, and the lack of visibility makes everything all too vivid.

"You have a very dirty mouth, kotenok (kitten)." She retorts in a tone that makes you shudder from head to toe. With a dry throat, you look up, even though you can't actually see her.

It must be a good thing for your sanity, though. God knows what you would have done if you could have seen the way Wanda's eyes darkened with hunger when she saw you on your knees, looking up at her.

Licking your lips, you say calmly: "Be very careful with your next action, Wanda. It will be definitive for our future interactions."

She bites back a smile, and her hand leaves your cheek for your hair, the motion in the strands at the nape of your neck drawing a stubborn sigh from your lips.

"See, it's much better when you're polite." She says softly, letting her fingers slide between the strands, stroking your hair gently. "That's how it goes. You behave nicely, and you're rewarded. Behave badly, and well..."

To illustrate, she moves her free fingers. You hear the magic before you feel it - right under your blouse, like a rough tug on your left nipple that makes you grunt in pain.

"Fuck, you little shit-" But swearing at her makes it worse. The sensation is repeated on the other nipple, not real enough to hurt the flesh, but enough to cause pain. And in the current scenario, on your knees and blindfolded, just the right amount for a wave of pleasure to wet your panties. 

It takes you by surprise, so much so that instead of grunting in pain, you practically moan. And that makes Wanda smile, especially as she can see the blush rising on your face.

"You need to improve that attitude." She starts again, adjusting the grip on your hair to force your face in her direction again. You bite the inside of your cheek hard, certain that this time, you would have whimpered. "You've been acting like this for too long, you've gotten comfortable in your naughtiness. I can fix that."

"Wanda..."

"Shush, darling, now you don't talk. You listen. Isn't that what you were hoping to train yourself to do?" She teases, and the grip loosens. You don't have to obey, but you're desperate to do so.

With a lump in your throat, you nod and remain silent. And the next second, when the sound of a zipper fills the room, you grow restless and alert.

You're ready to question when Wanda sighs.

"Shit, honey, that's been working for me too." She panted and you were dying to understand what the hell she was talking about when, along with her shortened breaths, you heard a sound that shook your body to its core. 

Was it really possible that Wanda Maximoff was fingering herself right in front of you?

"W-wanda-"

The slap isn't magical - nor is it weak. Your cheek burns, but Wanda grabs your face anyway.

"I told you to be quiet." She grunts, and in a way, the affected voice is confirmation enough of your suspicions. You can feel your underwear starting to feel uncomfortable with the dampness gathering. "You've talked a lot of shit since I joined the team, now you listen, you brat."

Not only do you hear it, but as the movements continue, you can smell it. Her sweet, intoxicating essence is enough to make you moan for the first time in the night.

Wanda let that one slide, because the sound is too good to punish you for it.

And because you've held still long enough for her fingers not to be enough anymore, she's decided that you deserve a reward.

"Open your mouth, darling, I've got a little treat for you." She sighs, and you obey almost immediately, even though your face is burning.

Wanda removes her fingers from inside herself, sighing softly as she does so. Unhurried, she presses them against your tongue and has to bite down hard on her own when you buckle forward, sucking on her fingers with enthusiasm.

"Look at you, who knew you were such an eager little thing?" She taunts, although the sensation of your tongue on her fingers is almost making her lose her train of thought. She can only imagine how deliciously warm you must feel elsewhere.

You just keep moaning, sucking all her wet pleasure from her fingerprints, and Wanda has to reach down and grab your hair once more to regain some of her sense of grounding.

Her voice is hoarse when she speaks again, but you don't seem to mind. "Did you like your treat, darling?"

You open your mouth to reply but hesitate before doing so. And Wanda smiles proudly when she realizes. "Oh, dear, you can speak if it's to answer my questions. Tell me how much you appreciated your treat."

Swallowing dryly, you lower your head. "I loved it, Wanda. And I would love to taste it from the source."

She bites back a giggle, using one hand to lift your chin. "You didn't even thank me."

"Th-"

The magic squeeze comes directly to your clit now. You let out a little yelp, but Wanda's hand doesn't let you lower your head. 

"I didn't tell you to thank me. Rather, I was reprimanding you because good manners don't come to you naturally." She clarifies, and with tears of pain and pleasure in your covered eyes, you nod in understanding. Wanda sighs. "I'm going to make a good girl out of you, even if I have to keep you on edge all night for it."

The whimper that escapes your throat is humiliating, Wanda loves the sound. 

The next sensation on your skin is that of a chain, wrapping itself around your neck. 

"We need to continue this in a more private place, darling. Where no one will interrupt us." Wanda guides, and the chain gives a gentle tug, the hint caught just in time by you, who are on your feet almost immediately. Wanda bites back a smile. "Fuck, I could get used to this."

She manages to lead you quietly and obediently through the empty corridors, but your anxiety overcomes you at the door to her room.

You stop walking, gulping. Wanda smiles because you're waiting for permission to ask a question, even when you're dying to have it answered.

"It's my room." She clarifies, but you shake your head, signaling that it wasn't your doubt. She shouldn't be impressed that you've already become able to memorize the sound of the way to the rooms, but she is. Smiling, Wanda brings a hand up to your face again. "What do you wish to ask, darling?"

You sigh at the permission granted. "Are you... are you sure? About this..." Wanda is taken aback. Your hands are still bound, you're still blindfolded, at her mercy, and yet you're worried about how sure and comfortable she is. You take a deep breath as if trying to find the right words. "This is important, Wanda. We can't go back to how things were before if I come in. And if you're not sure, send me away, and I swear we won't talk about this again and-"

Wanda moves in, it's quick and less hungry than she thought your first kiss would be, considering recent events and frankly, the way she's been craving you.

Your lips are soft and kind of addictive. Your mouth kisses her with real confidence as if you've done it a dozen times, and Wanda has no idea how often you've done it in your dreams. 

But reality is superior to any of those.

You grunt against her mouth, impatiently, and Wanda knows it's because of your trapped hands. But all she can do is smile mischievously, using hers to pull you by the shirt into the room.

The door is magically closed behind the two of you.

You're not surprised to be put on your knees again - even if a moan of protest escapes you. Wanda smiled, feeling a wave of excitement at your vulnerable anxiety, your eyes blindfolded and your head moving gently as if you expected to hear what she was up to.

Wanda bit her lip, working on her own clothes without magic, so that you could hear the motions. It brought a shiver to watch you squirm gently, swallowing dry as if you could picture her naked. And your pleading sigh, practically meowing her name, made Wanda lose her mind.

Now wearing only her underwear, she grabbed your face again and kissed you with everything she had - teeth and tongue - and swallowed every throaty moan until she needed to breathe again. When she pulled away, a line of saliva connected your lips.

"We need a system, darling..." She murmured, her fingers working to open the belt loop of your sweatpants. "You know the color one? Green for go, and red for stop?"

"Y-yes, Wanda, please, just keep going-" She interrupted with a kiss mixed with a giggle at your desperate response, the hands that had opened your pants helping you to the bed, laying you down. The magical chains had adapted, and your hands were attached to the headboard now, holding you open for Wanda. Your arousal grew so intense that Wanda could see your muscles twitching.

She sighed contentedly as she sat on your hips, watching your curious and expectant movements. Magic did the work of removing your pants, but Wanda was taking her time teasing your skin under your blouse, having the best time in the world watching you squirm and gasp.

"Tell me what you want." 

You swallowed dryly, forcing your voice out: "Anything you want to give me."

Wanda bit back a giggle, her fingers tracing your torso. "Good answer, darling." She sighs, and in one tug, rips off your shirt. The remaining pieces are swept away as you try to keep your breathing under control. Wanda adjusts herself and sits on your stomach, her wetness and warmth against your skin making you wince. "I have an idea, you let me use you and I might consider letting you touch me, what do you think?"

"Fuck." You moan, and Wanda can't let that one slide, though the slap on your cheek is light, and much more of a teasing warning than a punishment. It makes you throb inside.

"Language." She warns, and you sigh.

"I'm sorry."

Wanda strokes the soft red on your cheek, leaning in in a way that makes her wetness slide down your abdomen. The involuntary contraction of your muscles draws a gasp from both of you.

"Behave yourself." She warns, and it seems to be as much about the language as your slight movements, and although you nod, you repeat the gesture. Wanda gasps and grips your cheeks tightly. But you force your body upwards, and her grip loosens as she begins to grind against your stomach, giving in to the sensation. 

It brings some kind of pride to know that she's just as affected by this as you are, but even as she's drenching your skin with her hot pleasure, Wanda lowers herself to wrap her hands around your throat and as she uses your tense abdomen to reach her own orgasm, her grip warns you who's in charge. She doesn't take long to come - all the teasing outside has gotten under her skin - and it's the hottest thing that's ever occurred to you, even if you can't see it.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." She gasps through the last waves of her orgasm, her hips thrusting hard into you, who pants beneath her. Her juices run down your belly and you squirm impatiently.

"Please, Wanda. Let me touch you." You beg breathlessly, but she kisses you hungrily, her hands going down to your waist. At first, you think she's going to give you what you want, but Wanda gropes you in an unusual way, and you hear her magic before you feel a new volume between your legs. It takes you by surprise, the enchanted item and your tense body makes Wanda break the kiss.

With her forehead pressed against yours, she asks: "Red or green, darling?" As if to encourage an answer, Wanda grabs the conjured fake cock in her hand. It's really enchanted because you feel everything and the pleasure of the moment's stimulation brings a gasp. You move your hips, in the same direction as her without realizing what you're doing, and Wanda giggles. "I still need words."

"Fuck, green, yes." You moan and Wanda gives you a warning bite on the lips for cursing, but your head is spinning with pleasure from the movements that continue between the two of you.

Toys are nothing new - but a magic strap-on that you can feel as an extension of you certainly is. And Wanda seems willing to drive you to the brink of insanity when she simply adjusts the toy at her entrance and sinks in all at once.

You whimper, almost coming at once. She rocks gently against your lap without caring.

It's hard to breathe, especially when Wanda picks up speed and practically jumps on your cock, her warm walls clenching around you, trying to stop you from pulling out. Everything is too hot and just when you're ready to come, Wanda grabs your throat.

"Hold it." It's an order, almost impossible to obey when she rides your lap with such determination. You choke, struggling against the chains, the hot knot in your belly begging to break.

You almost sob. "I-I can't... please-"

She lets out a wicked giggle and doesn't stop moving. "Don't worry, babe, you're not coming. No matter how much you want to."

Wanda moans, and suddenly her movements stop. She groans heavily, gets impossibly tight and you think you're going to come, but something holds you back. Almost like a force of strength, and when Wanda falls limp against you, and her body continues to tremble from the intensity of the orgasm in contrast to yours, burning with more frustration, you understand what she's done.

"Wanda, what the fuck?" you gasped in a mixture of disbelief and irritation. And instead of losing her temper, she giggles mischievously at you.

"That's why you don't deserve to cum, baby. You're a foul-mouthed brat." She bites your jaw as she sits up, and you gasp, feeling her clench around you. "You're not coming until you improve this attitude."

She thrusts into you as a warning and although you feel as if you could come, your body simply won't obey. Because of the blindfold, you can't see her red irises either. 

"You're so mean, Wanda." You groan, sighing at the sensation of her pulling out. 

"Oh, darling, we have barely started."

[polutrope]

For the modern AU holiday prompts @i-did-not-mean-to requested Beren + accidental drunkenness, and MoonLord requested Thingol, Beleg, Túrin, and Mablung + Decorating a tree. ~2.2k words, rated G. [The Edain in this AU are officially whatever age and relation I want them to be.] Posting these to AO3, here. Prompt list (prompts closed). Beleria Cast of Characters

The flamboyant man at the booth in the back cried out, “Another round for the bar!” and Beren and Lúthien joined the patrons in a celebratory whoop.

Lúthien threw her head back and laughed as a server set two more two more beers on the table.

“I can’t believe this guy,” she said to Beren. “Who is he?”

“His name is Saeros,” the server answered. “A regular. I think he owns a record label or something. Celebrating a chart topper.” She smiled and cleared their empty glasses. “Enjoy.”

“No way,” Lúthien said, and left her mouth hanging open.

“What?” said Beren. Lúthien continued to gape. “What, what? You know him?”

“Yeah! Saeros Green. He offered my brother a record deal years ago.”

“And Daeron turned it down?” Beren asked.

Lúthien dipped her chin affirmatively with an air of pride. “He did. The guy is a smarmy bastard. Milks his artists for everything they’ve got. I mean, look at him!” Lúthien said, gesticulating with both arms in his direction. “Look at all that bling! And the red velvet suit, on a Thursday afternoon, really? Looks like he got in a fight with the Yule display at Mírdain Mall!”

“Ssshh sssh,” Beren said, giggling. “He’ll hear you! Anyway, I like him. Free booze!” He raised his glass in a toast and took a large gulp.

Lúthien was laughing when he lowered it. “You have foam in your beard!”

Beren grinned, making no effort to remedy the situation. “How do I look? More wizened?”

“Like an idiot!” Lúthien blurted, and laughed again.

She was so beautiful. Beren fell into a besotted stupor, staring at her face lit with mirth, listening to her musical laughter… he could die happy right here, right now, getting day-drunk with the most beautiful woman in the world—

“Beren,” she said. “Beren! Your phone is ringing!”

“What, birdie?” he said, surfacing.

“Your phone!” she said, and shoved it into his hand. “Someone’s calling you.”

He looked at he call display: Morwen Ethel-Wang. “Shit,” he said. “Shitshitshit.”

The call dropped before he could answer. Lúthien stared, awaiting an explanation.

Beren exhaled a long breath before giving one. “You remember a few months ago when we talked about my buddy Húrin’s son staying with us for a few days while his wife is at a conference in town?”

“Oh yeah!” Lúthien said. “When’s that happening?”

“Um,” said Beren. “Today. They’re at our place now.”

“Shit,” said Lúthien.

*

On the monitor, the minutes of the last City Council meeting swam in and out of Elu’s vision. He sighed. The permanent bikeway through Hithlum park had been voted down. Again.

His eyes drifted to the thick folder of letters his intern Beleg had dropped on his desk earlier, from the Hithlum Homeowner’s Association — all variations on the same template, laying out the supposed dangers of a “bike superhighway” through a “family-oriented” neighbourhood. Since when were bicycles dangerous? He pushed the folder aside. Well, they got what they wanted.

It was those damn developers from Valin! Hithlum used to be the alternative neighbourhood back in the 80s, where the artists and students hung out, now it was overrun with wealthy— Elu took a deep breath. He valued the diversity of Beleria. He did. But by god if it didn’t make it impossible to get anything done in this city! You would think, as Mayor, that your word actually meant something—

His phone pinged.

Lúthien💮💗

Hey papa! I know you’re working but I have a biiiig favour to ask.

3:14pm

Elu Singh-Goel

What is it, sweetie?

3:15pm

Lúthien💮💗

Sooo Beren has this friend and his kid was supposed to stay with us this weekend and we kinda forgoy

forgot*

Anyway him and his mom are at our place now and we’re… not lol

3:16pm

Elu Singh-Goel

Oh? Where are you?

3:18pm

Lu?

3:21pm

Lúthien💮💗

Sorry!!

We went to Gabilgathol for lunch and accidentally got drunk

3:23pm

Elu drew back from his phone. That was not like his daughter. It was times like these he found it most difficult to accept her choice of partner. Beren was an admirable man, with respectable ambitions, but he was so young. Accidentally drunk…

Lúthien💮💗

Some guy was buying rounds for the house lol

3:24pm

Elu Singh-Goel

I see. And how do I come into this?

3:25pm

Lúthien💮💗

Can she bring Túrin to the office?

3:25pm

Túrin is the kid

Just for a couple hours! Nellas says she can take him tonight if we’re not sobered up

hahaha

3:26pm

Beren says he’s quiet. Just give him some crayons and paper.

3:28pm

Elu’s thumbs tapped out ‘OK’ before his mind had a chance to catch up. He stopped them, hovering over the send button. What had happened to him? There was a time he would have locked Lúthien up in her room for the weekend for getting drunk at 3pm on a Thursday! — but he couldn’t very well lock up an adult woman. Certainly not one he was going to lose.

Well, not lose. Not entirely — that had almost happened, when he’d tried to talk her out of marrying Beren, but he’d soon repented of that mistake when she disappeared for two weeks without a word to anyone. A cold current shivered down Elu’s spine. That had been a terrible winter.

But now, every day was another closer to her and Beren moving to Dead Man’s Isle. It was ridiculous: she had not needed him nearly half her life now, and yet Elu’s heart dropped when he thought of her so far away. Not around the corner, not where he could drop by on an evening stroll to say hello with a container of leftovers or a tin of Melian’s homemade lembas biscuits.

Because of all this, he had become a complete sucker and lost all ability to say no to her. And damn it if she didn’t know it, he thought with a rueful smile.

Elu Singh-Goel

OK.

3:26pm

Lúthien💮💗

Omg thanks so much papa!!

Beren will tell Morwen to bring him by

3:26pm

Elu Singh-Goel

Don’t to worry about it. I think I can send my intern to pick them up. Tell them to wait at The Dimbar.

3:27pm

Elu set the phone down, then picked up the receiver on his desk phone and dialed Beleg’s extension.

“Hey big guy, what’s up?”

Elu smiled. He really ought to impress a more professional attitude on his interns (it’s what they were there to learn after all), but there was something… rejuvenating about this one’s breezy familiarity with him — and besides, it was good for the ego to have some carefree college student call you “big guy” once in a while when you had a pile of letters on our desk addressing you as “Your Worship”.

“Beleg,” said Thingol. “Would you be able to run a little personal errand for me?”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“I need you to go pick up a kid and bring him to the office.”

*

Half-an-hour later Beleg rounded the corner at the end of the hall, running with a lanky, dark-haired boy clinging to his back.

“Here he is!” Beleg announced, and let the boy down. “Túrin, the Master of Fate! Isn’t that right?” He ruffled the boy’s hair. “We outsmarted fate six times on the way over, didn’t we little guy?”

“Red lights aren’t fate,” Túrin said, in the tone of a child who thinks he knows better. “They are for controlling traffic flow.”

“Beleg.” Elu did his best to conceal his amusement with a frown. “I hope you were not racing lights in a municipal vehicle again.”

“No sir,” said Beleg. “No racing. All very strategic.”

“Mm, I don’t think I want to know.” Elu rose from his hair and came around the front of the desk. “It’s nice to meet you, Túrin. Welcome to the office of the Mayor. I’m Elu.”

Túrin did not look impressed, and made no move to take Elu’s hand when offered. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Túrin.” Then he turned back to Beleg. “Can we go on your computer now like your promised?”

Elu lifted a brow, for Beleg’s benefit, as he addressed Túrin. “He promised you, did he? Funny, because Beleg does what I tell him to do, and I do not remember telling him to do that.”

Beleg laughed, not sounding nearly as nervous as he should have.

“Oh.” Túrin paused, visibly processing this new information. ���Well can you tell him to play games with me?”

Elu had to laugh at the boy’s quick tactical adjustment. “I’m afraid Beleg doesn’t get to play games at work. But, while he was off picking you up, I thought of something else we could do.”

“What?” said Túrin and Beleg at once.

“Well,” Elu perched on the desk so he needn’t tower above them, “in the storage room there should be one of those fake trees and a box of decorations. We used to set it up in my office every year. I’d forgotten all about it, but since we’ve got you here, Túrin, I thought it would be a nice thing to do. What do you think?”

Túrin seemed to be deep in thought.

“Hey!” Beleg nudged him. “Sounds fun to me!”

“I don’t know,” Túrin said. “I barely know you. Tree decorating is for families.”

“Oh,” said Elu. “I suppose it’s something families often do together, yes. But they can be set up by coworkers, too, or even strangers, like us. I bet we won’t be strangers when we’re done.”

“We didn’t get a tree at my house this year,” Túrin disclosed. “My dad is away for Yule so my mom said we don’t need one.”

“I see,” Elu said, beginning to lose hope in this venture.

“All the more reason to set one up here!” Beleg offered.

“Yeah.” Túrin shrugged. “I guess.”

“Excellent!” said Elu. “Beleg, why don’t you take Túrin down the storage and have a look for it?”

*

They were gone a long time, and Elu was just beginning to wonder if he should go looking for them when they appeared toting two large boxes — and another of the interns.

“Hope you don’t mind if Mablung joins us!” Beleg said cheerily, setting the tree box upright in the corner of the room. Mablung placed the box of ornaments on Elu’s desk. “He said he was bored, I said he could help us.”

“Of course, of course. The more the merrier!” Elu said absently, distracted by fiddling with computer speakers in an effort to get the music to play. He groaned and threw up his hands. “Can one of you young people figure out why these blasted speakers have turned themselves off again?”

To his surprise, it was Túrin who answered the summons, running around behind the desk to investigate.

“It’s muted,” he said almost at once, and tapped a key on the keyboard. The bouncy beat of I’m the Happiest Christmas Tree spilled from the speakers.

The other three laughed, but Túrin crinkled his nose and hit skip on the song.

Soon, Beleg and Mablung had the tree set up and were arguing about the best placement for the string of lights. Once that was decided, they turned to debating how best to balance the bauble distribution.

Túrin seemed more interested in rooting through the box for the most unique ornaments. Elu watched him wistfully. He had not realised how much he missed being around children and their infectious wonderment at the world.

“I like this one,” Túrin said, pulling out a golden dragon. “My dad has one like it.”

“Oh, yes, very nice!” Elu said. “Why don’t you keep it?”

“Really?” said Túrin, his face brightening. He did not wait for confirmation before he shoved it in his pocket.

“Hey, what’s this now?” Beleg ambled over. “Mayor Man is giving away his ornament collection? Mablung, let’s see what’s in here!”

Beleg peered into the box, shoving aside some silver baubles and pulling out a long black icicle.

“Oh, sick,” he said, letting it dangle from a finger. “This is some goth sh— stuff.”

“Interesting,” said Elu, watching the strange ornament twirl. “I am not sure where that one came from.”

“Ohh, mystery ornament!” Beleg enthused. “Can I have it?”

“Really, you want that?” Mablung put in. “That’s weird, man. It looks like a weapon.”

“No way, it’s cool!” said Beleg.

“Well, if you want it,” said Elu, “I certainly don’t.”

“No, I want it!” Túrin shouted, and closed his fist around the icicle.

“Hey, kid, whoa, easy,” said Beleg. “You could just ask nice—!”

Beleg screamed. The ornament flew towards the ceiling, then arced back down and shattered on the floor. Túrin careened and toppled backwards, just missing Mablung lunging to break his fall.

Beleg gawked at his finger, which was bent backwards as a very unnatural angle.

“You dislocated my finger!” Beleg cried.

“Damn,” said Elu, and he was thinking neither of his injured employee nor of the crying child on the floor, but of the weeks of workplace accident reporting paperwork he’d just created for himself.

[serenfire]

Hey! I came here from glitched, and for whatever reason, tumblr absolutely refuses to let the devlog tag load for me, so my apologies if you've answered this before, but- how did you get the idea for glitched? Was it always going to be in this format of tumblr posts/ao3, or did that occur to you later?

Also, absolutely no pressure, but is the project still ongoing?

Hello! The tag redirects here, and I'll check my blog settings to see if there's a problem with it. It's the tag #glitched devlog, if the link doesn't work for you.

The project is in theory ongoing!, and in practice going very very slowly!! I had a bit of a crisis stemming from a med shortage at the beginning of the year, and all of Jan-Feb sucked expeditiously. It was just at the beginning of this month that I've been able to get back on my feet, but through the whole time I have been thinking about glitched every day! So it's going to happen. I believe in myself :)

(I guess it was good timing that the breakdown happened right before I made an official post outlining the plan to continue glitched, because that would have been blown out of the water. But, instead of hearing anything from me, I guess what happened was I released the demo as part of NaNoWriMo and then went completely radio silent! lol)

As for the inspiration behind glitched (I wrote a lot):

I've wanted to make an unfiction/ARG focused on tumblr blogs and ao3 accounts and fan culture at large since last summer. I was originally inspired by explaining SKAM to my youngest sibling, and when I elaborated on the joy of following different pieces of a story posted by different characters and watching their personal stories collide in ways that were representative of what it's like to exist in the world as a teenager, I was like: damn somebody's got to do the chronically online fan culture version of this.

As someone who grew up on the internet, I have sooo much to say on what social media as a person's only social outlet does to your perception of how communication works, what reading/writing fic for the express purpose of connecting with authors/fans (& using it solely as a means to an end instead of a joy in itself) does to your brain (like being an internet influencer, except in this very specific niche where it's only about attention and not money), devoting large swaths of your time to something that you consciously view as Not Very Important but all the Actually Important stuff you do in your life Sucks Balls and exploring that dichotomy of depression, etc etc.

I did a bit of research into unfiction and ARGs: looked at Mystic Messenger, Marble Hornets, Neurocracy, myhouse.wad, the SCP community, the Backrooms community. Lovingly thumbed through my favorite postmodern books: Pale Fire, House of Leaves, If On a Winter's Night a Traveler.

Toodled around thoughts of any possible plot that could justify making a tumblr- and ao3-focused story actually on the platforms themselves, but I couldn't figure out a compelling plot that justified actually making accounts and posting on them at specific times. I briefly had the idea to write a horror narrative from the perspective of someone writing a callout post on Google docs, which would be updated every day with the posts from each character involved. (I realized that it was going to have to go in the direction of Deep Shit In Real Life horror for the callout post angle to work, because my idea of making it an ambiguous supernatural horror did not mesh with why one makes a callout post.)

When my antidepressants kicked in, I kind of forgot all of this and got into cyberpunk lit instead. By the time NaNoWriMo was on the horizon, I had been combing through niche games on itch.io and had a wild idea to combine a story focused on tumblr & ao3 with my cyberpunk novel idea, and thus glitched was born.

Besides, it was so much easier to strangle css into twine and have control over it as an itch.io game instead of somehow keeping track of actual posts on actual websites posted at actual specific times (dear god, could you imagine the stress).

All that to say: thanks so much for asking!! I'm really glad you enjoyed reading glitched. I've really enjoyed what I've written so far!

If you'd want to be kept in the loop and perhaps beta read things when I sort myself out, please message me, that would be so awesome! (open offer btw. I love sharing my work with people <3)

(you don't even have to want to beta read it specifically you can just say hi, i'd love to pick your brain about what you think of the format of glitched as a whole)

[samanddeaninpanties]

Title: Lion’s Share 

AO3 Link

Square Filled: Claiming 

Ship: Dean/Jack

Rating: E 

Written for the @winklinebingo 

Tags: Dubious Consent, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Dean Winchester, Alpha Jack Kline, Alpha/Alpha, Omega Sam Winchester (mentioned), Anal Fingering, Rimming, Anal Sex, Knotting, Top Dean Winchester, Bottom Jack Kline, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Dean Winchester, Jealous Dean Winchester, First Time, First Kiss, Banter, Arguing, Violence, the violence is fairly mild it’s mainly just the set-up for the sex, Wall Sex, Age Difference, Barebacking, Mentioned Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Mentioned Jack Kline/Sam Winchester, Come as Lube, Porn, Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Heart-to-Heart, Manhandling, Claiming, Mating Bites, Loss of Control, Roommates, oh my god they were roommates, POV Jack Kline 

Summary: Jack is drawn to unmated omega Sam. His asshole alpha brother Dean is having none of it. 

(A.k.a "Knot the omega you are looking for") 

“What the fuck is this?" Dean snapped, throwing a bouquet of wildflowers at Jack as he stormed into the man-cave. 

Jack caught it but his bowl of Reese’s Puffs cereal spilled and tumbled to the floor. He scowled at Dean and placed the flowers on the arm of the La-Z-Boy recliner. "Don’t tell me you don’t know what flowers are.” 

Dean rolled his eyes. "Why were they in Sam's room?"

"Because I gave them to Sam. Why were you in his room?"

"Putting his laundry in there. That's not the point. I'm pretty fucking tired of you constantly putting moves on him."

Jack raised an eyebrow before turning his attention back to the TV. "Sam's an unmated omega.” 

"And you just conveniently didn't notice my scent marking?" 

"Is that supposed to mean something to me? Your scent is inescapable, Dean. It’s everywhere.” 

Dean snarled and grabbed Jack by his shirt collar and heaved him up out of the chair. "You’re too smart to be so fucking stupid. I meant on Sam."

Jack's breath hitched at Dean's fury but he raised his chin, stomping out any hint of weakness. "No, I didn’t notice."

"Well you should, Jack. Because it’s my knot that gets him through his heats. So I'm gonna tell you straight up: fuck off," Dean said. 

Jack swallowed a groan and tried to extricate himself from Dean’s grasp. "No. Your agreement is out of convenience, not love. Maybe Sam wants to explore his options."

Dean forced Jack backward and slammed Jack against the brick wall by the open door. Sam could come back from the supply run any second and - 

“Get off me," Jack panted and shoved Dean’s chest, hard. 

The push sent Dean off balance but he didn't let go of Jack. He thrust Jack back into the wall and pinned him there. "I don't care what you think you have going on with my brother. He's not available." 

Jack’s insides turned into liquid. "How do you know? Have you asked him what he wants?" 

"Sam is mine. My brother, my omega, mine." There was a pounding in Jack’s blood, a click in his head. Dean’s lips were rosy; fuckable. Maddeningly distracting. Really, Dean’s whole face screamed omega at first blush but Dean had been quick to put those thoughts to bed. 

"He’s never stated that. Can you blame me for trying? Sam's so pretty." Jack sounded needy and mindless rather than confident and in control.

"I don't blame you. I'm just telling you enough is enough.” 

Jack quit trying to escape. It was fruitless. Dean was bigger and stronger and he just couldn’t. "Did you really think that if you ordered me to stop I’d obey?"

"Maybe I should put you in your place then." 

Jack jolted, dick straining. Disgusting. Shameful. And so hot. His eyes wandered to the Foosball table, the unfinished bar, Dean’s toys, his whole domain. He was just another thing in Dean’s den to be used as Dean saw fit. "If you're trying to scare me it’s not going to work.” 

Dean snickered. "Thought so. You dirty boy. Moaning and whining like a bitch in heat while I touch you."

Jack was dripping inside his pants. It didn't even matter that Dean was laughing at him, his dick, his knot, knew what it wanted. "You’re not my type,” Jack lied because he wasn’t ready to inflate Dean’s overblown ego just yet. 

"Your type seems to be oversized omegas but we're going to fix that, aren't we?" Dean maneuvered Jack so he was facing the wall. “You want me to fuck you, Jack? Claim you?"

"Dean," Jack keened, canting his hips. His mind was stuck on claim claim claim. Such a derogatory word to use when playing with another alpha. 

Dean dragged his teeth over the nape of Jack's neck. A threat, a tease. So unfair. "Bet you wish you could get wet for me." He snaked an arm around Jack's body, found his cock. Squeezed it. "I should keep you both.” 

Jack groaned, rocking against Dean’s hand. Dean’s hand was fire, it was a brand. "You don't even like me." 

"Who said I don't like you?" 

"You did with your attitude. All the glaring and baring of teeth," Jack rasped and looked over his shoulder so he could gaze into Dean’s piercing eyes. 

"Yeah, well. Maybe if you didn't choose to sniff around Sam... “ Dean pushed Jack's shirt up and over his head and threw it on the floor. 

Jack drifted away from the wall, facing Dean to give him better access. "It was like that before I 'sniffed around Sam.'"

"Whatever." Dean started on Jack's pants. Once Jack was naked, Dean roughly grabbed Jack’s chin and consumed him with a heated kiss. His free hand stroked Jack. Slow. Torturous. 

Until it wasn’t. 

Dean let out a growl that shook Jack down to his bones, his innermost parts. He manhandled Jack back into position, nose facing the wall like he was a naughty child in time-out. And then Dean was sinking to his knees. 

“What are you - oh!” Jack’s body threatened to collapse when Dean pulled his cheeks apart and buried his face between them, forcing his tongue into Jack’s hole. A place he’d never let anyone. A place that was only Jack’s. 

Dean was deadset on barreling through any boundary Jack had ever had without bothering to ask him if it was okay. And Jack couldn’t even be mad, no one had ever made him feel this wanted, this desirable. 

“Two little omegas,” Dean purred against hot flesh. His tongue was slippery-wet, fucking in and out, making Jack’s toes curl. Too much, not enough. “All for me.” 

“Not an omega.” 

“You will be when I’m finished with you.” 

Jack wanted to laugh at the sheer idiocy of Dean’s statement. The certainty. Dean was letting his inner alpha run wild and dominate every part of their interaction and it showed. “You’re delusional.” 

“Nah. I just know a knot-slut when I smell one,” Dean said and went right back to destroying Jack with that wicked tongue. Dean’s hand found Jack’s cock again and pumped him expertly as he ate Jack out. “Come on, baby. Give up the goods, make a mess in my hand. You know I need it, we need it,” Dean said, using his alpha voice. 

Jack’s window of opportunity, his chance to fight tooth and nail, was long gone - not that it ever would’ve ended differently. Dean was too strong and Jack didn’t really want to get away, even if it meant the humiliation of being taken and claimed rather than being the one doing the claiming. 

Dean wanted him, a turn of events he wouldn’t have expected a few short weeks ago. Actually, he wouldn’t have thought it possible twelve hours ago - 

“Jack,” Dean said, nipping Jack’s ass cheek. Jack came with a soft whine into Dean’s hand, his sloppy, tongue-fucked hole clenching greedily. 

“Oh, baby. You can do better than that,” Dean purred. Dean waited a few beats before pressing two come-slick fingers into Jack. 

“I don’t understand.” 

“Gotta scream for me, Jack. Gotta beg me real sweet.” 

“Dean, no,” Jack said, his voice wavering as he fucked himself on Dean’s hand. 

“Nuh-uh, try again. Dean, yes.” Dean added another finger and Jack was afraid he’d break, that he was being pushed beyond his limit, beyond what his body could take. His hole felt so small with Dean inside him, how on earth was an alpha cock supposed to fit? 

“Can’t -” 

“Yeah, you can, baby. And you will. And you want it.” When Dean started to withdraw his fingers Jack tried to turn and see - but Dean was prepared for that. “No moving. Not yet.” 

Jack huffed and settled. “You’re really starting to get on my nerves, Dean.” 

“Welcome to the club,” Dean said, his giant hands using Jack for support as he returned to his feet. He only removed his hands long enough to rid himself of his clothes, tossing them into a messy pile, and then he was back to crowding Jack against the wall. And oh, Dean’s cock burned even hotter than his hands. He humped between Jack’s cheeks, making his home near Jack’s hole. Ready to claim it properly any second. “That’s how you make me feel all the time.” 

“So, I was right! You can’t stand me,” Jack said, trying to avoid the sting, trying to ignore the ache and embarrassment. He’d been told more than once he was too sensitive for his own good. His hurt was confirmation, proof the criticisms were correct. 

Dean kissed the nape of Jack’s neck, dragged his lips along it. Jack’s body was a treacherous thing because he arched into the contact like the slut Dean had proven him to be. “It’s complicated. C’mon Jack, don’t act like you don’t get it. Sometimes love can be hateful. We hurt people we love more than we hurt people we couldn’t give a damn about.” 

“Shut up, Dean.” 

“Aw, baby. I have what you need,” Dean crooned and began pressing his cock into Jack’s ass. 

The impossible stretch made Jack’s eyes water. “I can’t,” Jack choked out. He squirmed as Dean sank deeper and Jack’s inner alpha screamed at Jack to fight. To push Dean away. Out. “You have to -” 

“Relax.” Dean soothed his big, callused hand over Jack’s lower back. “You’ll work yourself into a panic if you don’t.” 

“No, Dean, you don’t understand. We were wrong to try. Alphas aren’t made to fit a knot,” Jack said, his last words breaking and twisting into a moan. 

“Feels right to me. Looks awesome, too.” Dean grabbed the meat of Jack’s ass. Spread Jack’s cheeks as he continued to glide in, punching the air out of him with each thrust. Jack could only ride the waves of discomfort in hopes he came out the other side relatively unscathed. “Your hole is doing the work it needs to do. I’ve got you.” 

“Okay, Dean,” Jack groaned. Nodded. He ached more than anything but Dean believed Jack could handle Dean’s cock - so Jack could trust him. 

“I wanna take you hard,” Dean panted, licking a hot stripe along Jack’s neck. 

“You really wanna mess me up, don’t you?” 

Dean laughed and shoved in brutally, cock pulsing with the need to knot. “Only in the best ways.” 

“Please shut up.” The pace was quick. Bruising. There was a choking relief at being fucked. 

“Oh, I got a ‘please’ this time? Gotta mark this on my calendar, write it down in my diary. ‘I dicked Jack so good he said please. Can’t wait to do it again.’” 

“You really are an asshole,” Jack said, face flaming from humiliation as Dean cackled like a lunatic. Dean was teasing Jack and it wasn’t nice - but he’d said something very important, too. Something Jack needed clarification on. “Do you wanna fuck me again, though?” 

Dean hummed. Kissed the lobe of his ear. Breathed into it. “Hell yeah.” 

Jack whined and yelped as Dean’s next shove hit just right. “Dean, you’re killing me.” 

“Better start working on your stamina, kid, because I have no interest in going easy on you. Ever,” Dean promised as he plunged deep into Jack. 

Jack came unexpectedly with a sob, lost as Dean fucked him through the aftershocks. “Dean - please. Please can we -” his voice cut off, moaning as Dean pulled out of him. His ruined hole clenched on nothing. An eager, hungry thing. 

“C’mon,” Dean ordered, tugging Jack away from the wall and over to the recliner. Dean sat first, patting his lap expectantly. “Sit on me, baby.” 

Jack didn’t need to be told twice. His legs were desperate for a break. He scrambled onto Dean’s cock as fast as his body would let him, moaning as he sank down, taking everything. His puffy, abused hole so happy to be filled with Dean’s giant cock. “You have to come, too, don’t leave me alone,” Jack finally rasped, rolling his hips.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be with you in a minute,” Dean purred. Squeezing the globes of Jack’s ass. 

When Dean’s knot started to inflate it was bigger than anything Jack had imagined, it filled up every empty space and then some, and Jack thought he’d scream or stop breathing altogether when Dean’s knot almost popped out and he dragged Jack closer to him, making sure his knot and come stayed in. “Told you. I’m too small,” Jack said faintly as more of Dean’s come shot inside. 

“I disagree,” Dean said in his smug alpha tone then bit down on Jack’s neck, leaving a raw, tender wound. A claiming mark. “Mine.” 

“Dean. I didn’t say you could do that.” There was a not-so-secret part of him that liked it, that just needed to be forced. Playing with Dean made him feel insane. 

“You didn’t have to.” Jack smacked Dean’s chest and he caught Jack’s wrist in his tight grip. 

“Need more training, huh? Maybe when my knot goes down I should tie your feisty little ass up in my room, keep you near me always.” 

Jack bared his teeth. “Dean, you can tease me all you want, it doesn’t change anything. I’m an alpha. Not an omega. I’m going to keep wanting what I want.” 

“You still want Sam.” Relief trickled into Jack. It wasn’t a question. Maybe they were getting somewhere, maybe there was hope this could end without too much drama or tears. “I get it. Anyone with half a brain does.” Dean faltered, fell silent again. Jack tried to give Dean room to think, tried to wait. For a few seconds, anyway. He wracked his brain for a solution. Couldn’t leave Dean alone. Coax it out of him. Jack tossed his head, gazed at Dean through his lashes, and milked Dean’s knot. Come on, Dean. You can do it. And then - success. Dean’s eyes softened and he let go of Jack’s wrist. “You got under my skin in a way others didn’t. Hasn’t done great things for me. I know Sammy loves me. But I could just stick with him the rest of my life and be happy - I don’t think the same could be said about him. So, yeah, maybe I was feeling a little, uh, threatened by you or whatever.” 

For a heartbeat, Dean looked so damned sad. Little boy lost. It was gone in a blink but Jack had seen it. Dean’s insecurities, his fears, laid bare for Jack. “You know he doesn’t need to choose, right? If Sam needs more than just you… he could have it all? We could share?” Jack placed a hand on Dean’s cheek. “I won’t try to replace you, Dean.” 

Dean hummed. His gaze roamed over Jack, making Jack’s heart jump. “Maybe you could have a supervised session. If you can earn it. I want you all to myself right now, though.” Dean didn’t give Jack a chance to pout, pulling him into another life-changing kiss. 

“If you want me all to yourself, fucking me with the door wide open was a bad idea. What if Sam sees?” Jack croaked when the kiss broke. Dean tweaked Jack’s nipples, growling playfully. Even if Jack wasn’t full of Dean’s knot, he had a feeling Dean wouldn’t bother locking them away somewhere safe and private. 

Maybe that was a good thing. 

Jack let himself melt into Dean and drifted off on his knot. 

[goldfishlover73]

It’s been a while...

“I really hate when people start time travel Kakasaku fanfictions and never finish them. I’m going to write a time travel KakaSaku fanfiction and show these people how it’s done!”

And then I did. It is called “The Misadventures of Kakashi and the Girl from Nowhere.”

And I abandoned it.

Until now.

Over the last *ahem* 8 years I have thought of it often. I have even gone back to it, told myself “I’m going to do it, I’m going to finish it!” Three times I have gone back and updated a chapter or two, revised and edited. And then I would abandon it again. I kind of stopped writing because I told myself I need to finish Misadventures before I start anything else. (Life also took over and I didn’t want to write anymore/didn’t have any motivation).

But I always wanted to finish Misadventures. I knew how I always wanted it to end. The last few chapters were written shortly after I started. Odd and end major plot points written out and labeled, but the inbetweens were never done. I didn’t want to half ass it and give it the time it needed to flush out and become the story that it deserved to be.

So I have.

And I finished it.

Officially, it’s done. 77 (or so) chapters, over 300 pages. It needs to be revised, spelling and grammar, make sure it’s cohesive in all parts, but it’s done. I think that what’s most important about this story is that it’s something that I’m proud of for myself. I kept getting stuck in this idea I have to finish it for ‘others’ (whoever those faceless people are) and I forgot that I started it for myself and I needed to end it for myself.

It didn’t quite end the way I planned, but, I suppose, when you take 10 years to write a story, no one is the same as they were before, even the characters on the page.

During my revision I had to make a decision. When parts of this story were written, the fucking manga wasn’t done. Continuity was off and I had to decide if I wanted to follow the manga or not.

I said fuck it. I tore the story apart and rebuilt it.

Ultimately, the story wasn’t written particularly well. Lots of errors and some of the sentences were unclear or missing words. I do think that it’s a lot better now. and after I finish this last revision, I think it will only be stronger.

I am quite happy with it.

The ‘story’ is the same. A strange woman named Sakura crashing into young Kakashi’s life, but how we get there has changed. Even the first chapter has been greatly altered twice since this major revision I’ve been working on for the last three months. I have even contemplating changing the title, but I’ve grown so attached to the title and what it means to me, and what this story means to me I feel like I have to keep it the same. Though it’s a little more dramatic than what a story called “Misadventures” should be. But again, it does take place in Kakashi’s dramatic past.

Like I said, the story is complete, but I won’t post anything until the final revision is done. I’m about 10% done with the final revision, but I’m hoping to start uploading it to AO3 in the next month (or less).

It’s funny to think about it since when I first started writing this story AO3 might not have even existed.

I haven’t decided what I’m going to do with the FF.net version. I don’t know if I should replace what’s there or remove it and just start fresh. I thought I would be able to just covertly update and start again since it’s been so long but I have comments from this year, which blows my mind.

So yeah! Misadventures is complete. I’ll continue my revisions and hopefully the Kakasaku world will be able to enjoy it soon.

During this revision I wrote another time travel fanfic (God, I love them so much). Not KakaSaku (there is no romance) but it is Naruto. It was supposed to be a quick drabble-ish story and similar to Misadventures it got a life of it’s own and ended up being much longer than that. Again, I’m quite proud (Something that doesn’t happen to me often, if I’m honest). I’ve been wanting to post it, but I’ve kept it for myself. I’ll post it eventually. Hopefully not in 10 years.

HA!

[ninjago-bingo]

midmonth recap 3

hello everyone!  this was gonna be our last midmonth recap, but due to the bingo’s extension, we’re going to get one more!  woot!

for this recap we have a crap ton of fic and a lovely (if smaller) pool of art!

in total, the bingo has:

10 warm pieces

9 twixt pieces

9 sparks pieces

and 2 sprout pieces!

that’s a total of 30 entire works in the span of 2 and a half months, with 16 of those having been done in the last month.  guys, we’re insane for this.  give yourselves a huge clap on the back!!  

last but not least, we officially have 2 official bingo achievers!  huge shout-out to @rosiehunterwolf and @grollow​ for the amount of quality content they’ve pumped out so far, you guys are real mad lads :D

art: (low res; click on the link to go to the original post)

At 3am by @wojira

Oh god i forgot about the ninjago bingo thing

Anyways

jaya hug by @/wojira

,,,,,Jaya hug

fic:

jubilee line by @sa-you-na-ra. tumblr || ao3 || prompt: bets

So Lloyd got stabbed, Cole's got broken ribs and a messed up ankle, there are still enemies coming, and evac's delayed.

Shit.

(mod comments: give these kids a hug, p l e a s e)

let me down gently by @/rosiehunterwolf.  tumblr || ao3 || ffn.net || prompts: anger + fight

The thing about spending nearly every waking moment of the last several years of your life with a group of friends is that you really get to know them, inside and out, so much so that sometimes you know what they’re thinking before they do.

And, sometimes that means it’s easy to overlook what they’re actually trying to say.

(mod comments: “Lloyd Montgomery Garmadon, have you lost your tiny mind?” DEAD)

not too fast or too slow by @21st-century-ninja​.  tumblr || ao3 || prompts: soulmates + telepathy

Soulbonds- soulbonds are special. They’re magical, even. They’re groups of people with souls so close that they strip down even the barriers of individuality, filtering impressions of thoughts and feelings between each member of the bond without even needing to speak aloud. Before a bond is completed, these impressions remain impressions. But once the last person in a bond comes of age and turns 16, all of the members gain total access to the others’ thoughts and the bond is complete.

Lloyd is 100 percent certain that Cole, Kai, Nya, Zane, and Jay are his bondmates.

Then his 16th birthday comes and goes with nothing to show for it.

(mod comments: yea i’m back on my soulmate bs :D)

one-shots by @/grollow.  prompts: comfort + forever + childhood + inside jokes + sharing clothes

(mod comments: this is a really cute selection of one-shots!  i love the vibe they all have going for them: bittersweet and silly)

puzzle pieces by @m-aster-of-spinjitzu​. tumblr || prompt: scars

One might look at them and think about how perfect they all look together, how unbroken, how whole.

That's not completely untrue.

Another might look a little closer, realize how one's hands shake ever so slightly, how he smiles at his friend's jokes but his eyes are of a distant land; one built on pain and sorrow and fueled by regrets.

That's not completely untrue, either.

(mod comments: sweet and angsty platonic greenflame uwu. some really nice lloyd introspection!)

rainy days by @/rosiehunterwolf.  tumblr || ao3 || ffn.net || prompt: storm

There are many reasons why people may dislike storms. Maybe, like Kai, they find few things worse than being cold and wet. Or maybe, they dislike the eerie sounds of the whistling wind and booming thunder, like Cole. Or maybe, like Zane, they are concerned about the safety hazards. But for the other three members of the ninja team, storms offer a much more pleasant experience.

(mod comments: love this trio so much!  them throughout the years, changing and staying the same ;.;)

soulmates au by @/sa-you-na-ra.  tumblr || prompt: soulmates

There were a lot of things Nya witnessed in her life that others her age would probably never even dream of seeing.

Survival and paying rent isn’t something kids should worry about, Nya knew later on.

(mod comments: *chanting* soulmates soulmates SOULMATES *feral noises*)

There’s Sand Everywhere! by @/rosiehunterwolf.  tumblr || ao3 || ffn.net || prompts: summer and heist

It was just supposed to be a day off. A simple beach day. But when your family consists of six ninja and a samurai, including a nindroid convinced he’s a detective, his reluctant sidekick, an aquaphobe, a girl who can command the sea, an unassuming teen who seems to attract every animal he crosses paths with, and a bunch of argumentative idiots, nothing is ever that easy.

(mod comments: okay so confession time I haven’t gotten around to reading this yet but i love hijinks so i’m sure this will be right up my alley :D)

Twinkle, Twinkle, Are You There? by @/rosiehunterwolf.  tumblr || ao3 || ffn.net || prompt: stars + trauma

All he wanted to do was help his team. It was his mistakes that got them into this mess, after all. It would make sense that he was the one to get them out of it. But if there’s one thing Lloyd’s learned over the course of his life, it’s that things don’t have a habit of going his way.

That, and the fact that stars don’t make very good company.

(mod comments: A N G S T >:D)

Walk a Mile by @fangirltakesall.  tumblr || ffn.net || prompt: swap

What's the better color, blue or red? Jay and Kai have been arguing over this topic, along with many others, since they first became ninja. However, their argument is about to get them into deep trouble. How's that saying about putting yourself into another's shoes go again?

(mod comments: the banter is absolutely befitting of plasma :D a really fun concept, too!)

[solange-lol]

"why don't we be friends (why don't we make out)" - (1/1)

words: 2,373

read on ao3

—

There are very few people that Nico forgets about. At least, as far as the people that have stuck around with him for most of his life.

He’s known Percy and Annabeth since they were young, remembering watching the two of them chase each other around the schoolyard and purposefully try and get desks right next to each other before they were inevitably separated by alphabetical last name seating. He remembers trying to convince Piper to do his french project and Jason sitting in the halls with him outside of the music room when they wouldn’t want to go outside for recess in middle school. He can still hear the alarm when Leo accidentally knocked over a bunsen burner in their sophomore year chemistry class, and the feeling of paint on his skin when Hazel tripped and sent half of her palette onto him in their art class.

Nico can even recall moments with the people he was never particularly close to, like when Rachel told him she loved him backstage of their winter concert after only having known him for five minutes (in a very lesbian/gay solidarity way, of course), or when Grover spent an entire hour hiding out in their school library to get away from their math sub.

It’s strange now, looking across such a large circle of people piled into Jason and Thalia’s house. They’re all people from his grade (or class , he supposes, now that they’re officially graduated), Each one of them, Nico can remember at least one conversation he’s had with them, one story he’s passed into his closer friend group that is laughed over and then inevitably moved on from.

It was supposed to be a big party celebrating all their friendships throughout the years.

Ironically, so many people that had such little impact on him, in retrospect.

Which is why it comes as a surprise to him when he sees a flash of blonde curls and freckled skin among the sea of people. He’s hit with what feels like a wall of memories of the two of them, laying in the same bed trading quiet secrets, and walks to the store to get an inhumane amount of candy that they can go share at the pier. Images of blue eyes, warm hands in his, and the sound of stifled laughter at midnight feel all too familiar. Nico is stuck on them.

He hasn’t seen Will in years.

It wasn’t exactly his choice. It wasn’t either of theirs, really. They had gone to middle school together, and from the ages of 10 to 14, Will knew the most about him.

And then their middle school graduation came and went, and Will left for a boarding school. Nico remembers, vaguely, Will asking him to come with them.

“They offer more classes, and there are more opportunities for help,” they had said, or something along the lines of it. “And we could be roommates.”

Part of him wanted to. All of him almost went. But it was the same year he lost his sister, and while moving to another state for school sounded like a fantastic way to avoid all his trauma, he had to stay with his family. Not that his father would have stopped him, but Nico knew he couldn’t go. Not yet.

So he stayed, and Will left, and it all worked out fine. They texted every other day, facetimed once or twice a month when their schedules lined up. Will came home for Christmas that year, telling stories about the other kids on their floor and their girlfriend. Then, when he came home for that summer, about their boyfriend.

Nico would listen, then catch Will up about what was going on at his public school. He had gone out on a date with one boy which was nice but didn’t turn into anything, and Will told him he would find someone eventually. They took trips to the mall together instead of the pier, mostly just to get milkshakes and have a place to walk around.

One morning, Will convinced him to bike to the beach in the morning to see the sunrise. The sky ended up being too cloudy, but they still sat together on the empty lifeguard chair, swapped sweatshirts and bagels with cream cheese, and talking about summer jobs and college.

Then Will left for their sophomore year, and school caught up to both of them and whatever kept them going was lost. The most Nico talked to them was through the occasional Snapchat sent to each other or on a group facetime

The last time Nico had called Will alone, it was in a panic to ask advice on how to break up with the boy he was dating at the time because he realized that relationships weren’t really his thing, at least not yet. Will had sat quietly, giving him occasional advice, and mostly just comforted him.

And that was it.

Nico had gotten a new phone later that year, and all their call logs and long text threads were lost into the depths of his phone memory.

It was bittersweet, in all honesty, and pretty painless for the most part. Maybe it’s because Nico never really forgot about Will. There was never any clear ending; no hard feelings between the two of them. He still sees their posts on social media, sees their mom in the store on occasion. He remembers passing Will at their local fair when they came home again for the summer of their junior year with their boyfriend that they were still dating, and then later again the next when he noticed that all posts had been removed from their Instagram including the ones with said boyfriend and nothing but will - they/them in their bio.

He wondered, briefly, where Will had gone when he didn’t even see him in passing over the following summer. Was he still going to the boarding school? Had his family moved out of the state entirely?

It never felt like a friendship breakup. It was clear now, though.

Nico wonders at which point it became one. He didn’t mean to stare at Will as long as he did. Everything had just come washing over him at once, and he was frozen in place staring at the person Nico had once called his best friend.

He doesn’t even realize he was staring until Will looks back. Their blue eyes meet his brown ones, and reality sets back in. The loud music he had drowned out in his daydream came filtering back through his ears, and he stumbles as people shove past him towards the kitchen. Still, his gaze locks on Will.

Neither of them makes a move towards each other at first.

Then, a moment later, Will is right next to him.

“Hey,” they say it slowly, almost like they were testing the waters, like they knew how long it had been since they had spoken.

Nico doesn’t know what to say. His first instinct was to hug them.

He withstands it, though, instead grabbing onto their wrist and pulling them past the crowd of people and into one of the rooms off of the main hall, which was miraculously empty. He can still hear the pounding music, but it was a little bit quieter with the door closed. Quiet enough that he can think again.

“Uh, hi,” Will tries again, and god, their smile never changed.

“Sorry,” Nico says once he realized he had just seemingly dragged them into a secondary location with no explanation. “It was just… loud. Out there.”

“I get it,” Will says, sitting down on the couch pushed onto the far wall and looking back up at Nico. They were wearing a pinkish-orange button-up Hawaiian shirt that looked straight out of their dad’s closet (Nico would know, he’s seen it before) that was half-tucked into mid-rise light wash jeans that were cuffed just enough that you could see a glimpse of where their socks met their Converse. Yellow, possibly the same pair they had bought at the mall two years prior when Nico was there.

They got taller, he thinks vaguely. Nico had too, but Will still has at least half a foot on him.

“So, what’s up?”

“Not much, I guess,” he shrugs, twisting his ring. “I mean, I graduated. I assume you did too.”

Will nods. “I did. Lou Ellen invited me as her plus one. You know her, right? Friends with Rachel.”

Nico nods. Shoulder length, cloud-like hair that was a different color every other week. Wore lots of random thrifted t-shirts over big pants. Loud personality, even louder voice. Band kid. Friends with Cecil; her good grades probably being the only reason he hasn’t been kicked out of the school yet. Once debated the legitimacy of gender binaries with him in an English class.

“Sorry for, like, staring at you before,” he says. “It’s been a while.”

They nod again. “All good. I was staring at you before anyway.”

“You were?”

“Yeah,” Will shrugs. “You’re easy to look at.”

Then, a moment later, “It has been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah. You’ve changed a bit.”

“Have I?” They ask. “I think just my look, maybe. I’m still just as obnoxious.”

Nico snorts. It’s comforting to know they could just slip back into it like this. Like no time had ever passed, and Nico is back in their bedroom creating each other in The Sims.

“Are you still dating Connor?” Nico asks, vaguely remembering the last conversation they had.

“Nah, we broke up last winter.”

“Any reason?”

Will squints a bit like they’re curious why Nico’s asking. It makes Nico blush, immediately regretting saying anything.

“Dunno. We just grew apart,” they say. Then, “Sounds kinda familiar, doesn’t it?” followed by a laugh.

“I didn’t mean to stop talking to you,” Nico says quickly because he didn’t. There are days where he sees Will’s Instagram story or a tweet and knows that even though he could still comment, it wouldn’t quite be the same.

“Life got busy,” Will says. “It happens”

“I didn’t want it to. Not to us.”

“So let's restart.”

Nico blinks. “Just… start over our entire friendship?”

“No, just pick up where we left off.”

“Just like nothing happened?” he asks, sitting down on the couch next to them.

“Just like nothing happened,” Will affirms.

They’re both quiet for a moment, then—

“Do you remember what you told me when you first came out as bisexual to me?”

It was in the basement of Will’s house. Nico had come out as gay a few weeks prior, and when he was talking about the boy he liked, they just casually mentioned it. Being with Will like this again reminded him of something they had said, and something he later found out.

“I think I just, like… told you, right?” Will smiles. “And I said you were a big part of helping me figure out.”

“Yeah. I always thought you meant because I had already come out,” Nico said. “It wasn’t until, like, last year that Piper mentioned you meant that because you liked me.”

Will laughed again. “I figured you didn’t. You were always talking about what bad of a couple we would make.”

“Yeah,” Nico said, and his heart picked up pace as his knee knocked against Will’s by accident. Neither of them moved. “I actually had a massive crush on you for a while. I think I just said that because I wanted to try and get over it, so I wanted you to indirectly reject me.”

“Did you ever get over it?”

Nico laughs. “Not really. But I moved on.”

He notices Will shift closer, notices how their hands are now on top of each other and their legs are fully pressed together.

“Same,” Will says, moving their head closer to Nico’s until their foreheads are pressed together and their breaths mingle. They look at him for any sign to stop, and Nico doesn’t move.

“Good thing we’re starting over then, right?” they continue, practically a breath of a whisper before their lips connect, and god Nico did not think this was where his night was going but no way in hell was he about to stop it. (He’s not sober enough to care, anyway, and seemingly neither is Will judging by the strong scent smell of weed coming off of his shirt.)

Their hands laced together, subconsciously, almost like muscle memory from all the days walking hand in hand down the dock. (Nico wonders if his younger self was ever trying to tell his mind something.) Nico’s other hand comes up to rest on warm skin, brushing Will’s cheek with his thumb like he’s trying to wipe the freckles off.

Will wraps one arm around Nico’s waist, pulling him closer until he eventually just shifts so he’s in their lap. Will certainly doesn’t complain, only tilting their head to deepen the kiss and breaking apart their hands so they can run one hand through Nico’s hair.

They have to break apart after a moment, and Nico can help it when he laughs.

“Guess we were a little dumb when we were younger, huh?”

Will’s breathing heavy, but Nico doesn’t miss the familiar playful glint in their eye. “I don’t know what you mean. You’re still an idiot,” they say, pressing a kiss to the underside of Nico’s jaw, and another one right next to his ear.

He wonders if Will has thought about doing this the same way Nico has.

“Says you,” Nico says. “You were far more oblivious than I was.”

“I’m not the one who said we would make a bad couple,” they remind Will.

“Yeah?” he says, then leans back in to kiss Will again. Their mouths slot together, and god, they’re an even better kisser than Nico ever thought they could be. Something in his mind tells him maybe it’s not relationships he didn’t like, maybe he just knew it wasn’t the right person.

Perhaps Will’s that person he was always looking for.

Nico leans back, just barely so he can mumble “Lucky for you, I’m willing to test that theory,”  against Will’s lips just before they pull him in once more.

—

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[theclockworkmonk]

Title: Intermission

Summary: During the intermission of "The Boy in the Iceberg," Zuko and Toph are fed up with Aang and Katara's drama.

Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender

Read on AO3

Read on FF.net

For Throwback Thursday, thought I'd post the first fanfic I ever wrote, back in August of 2013 (so excuse how...not good it is). The way Katara goes from rejecting Aang to kissing him with zero conversations in between always bothered me, so I wrote this scene that could have been a deleted scene in the episode, and to this day the type of fanfic I'm most drawn to is "missing" scenes that would have improved an aspect of the story. So awkward writing is what sucked me down this rabbit hole.

******

"Ow! What was that for?" Zuko rubbed his arm, suspecting a bruise would probably form.

Toph just smiled innocently. "That's how I show affection," she said as if she had just baked him a cake instead of physically assaulted him.

Zuko was glad Toph hadn't been with Aang, Katara, and Sokka back when he was chasing them on their way to the North Pole. They had given him enough bruises, lacerations, and concussions on their own. If Toph had been there, he'd probably still be eating through a straw.

"So, anyway, do you know where Aang is? I'm starting to worry. I told Sokka that this play wasn't worth the risk."

Toph just frowned, "Why are you asking me? In case you haven't noticed, this whole place is made out of the evil substance known as wood."

"I thought maybe you would know because he told you. Ya know, that's how the rest of us keep track of where people are."

"That sounds like a hassle," Toph said casually with a finger digging in her ear, "Anyway, Twinkle Toes is probably in the same place as Sugar Queen."

Zuko groaned for what seemed like the 12th time tonight. "Good. Maybe with them alone together they'll finally clear the air and allow the rest of us to move on with our lives."

"Hey, at least you just got here. Meathead and I have had to endure this drama for months."

"I honestly don't understand what their thinking is," Zuko sighed with his head in his hands, "At least you have the excuse that Sokka has a girlfriend."

Zuko saw Toph scowl a scowl that would even put Azula to shame. "I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about, and unless you want a more symmetrical face, you don't either."

Zuko rolled his eyes, "Whatever. I was surprised to find out they weren't official yet by the time I got here. Especially after Katara straight up threatened to kill me if I looked at him wrong."

"Wait, what now? You serious?"

"Yeah, it was the first night I spent at the Air Temple."

"Nah, she was bluffing."

"Toph, I grew up with Azula. I got pretty good at spotting lies. Katara meant every word she said. And it got even worse when I would try to train Aang. He would always make up some excuse about how he needed to practice more waterbending, even though he's been working on that almost a year."

Toph grunted in agreement, "You don't need to tell me. Just as I was about to break through his earthbending block, Her Sweetness comes in all 'Oh, don't worry, it's okay, we can practice waterbending. Come on, let's go splash around in our underwear.'"

"Yeah, I've been thinking that if they just got it out in the open then he could concentrate again. That's why I've been getting closer to Katara. I thought maybe if I piss him off enough he would man up and push me out of the way."

Toph smirked in her very self-satisfied way, "I knew it! Though, you might want to tell Snoozles about that plan. He's been worried that you really were interested in her. I guess that explains the seating arrangements this evening?"

Zuko rubbed the back of his head and smiled guiltily. "Yeah, I made double sure to sit next to Katara, and for a second he actually seemed like he was going to grow a backbone. I was thinking 'Come on, this is driving you crazy, isn't it? Call me out, why don't you want me sitting here?' but he hog-chickened out again. And I've been doing this for a while. After I saved Katara from being crushed at the temple, I made sure to stay on top of her just a little longer than necessary, but that just made her mad at me rather than him."

"And your little field trip?"

"Well, no, that really was just me trying to help her. But me decidedly not inviting anyone else, not even Sokka, to come help find Yon Rha had something to do with my meddling."

"And plus, it certainly seems like the play is helping you," Toph laughed.

Now it was Zuko's turn to scowl. "I actually think I got more than I bargained for with that. I'm just certain that if he finally told her he liked her, they could move forward and not be stuck in this limbo."

Toph looked confused, "Oh, she knows that he likes her. Did no one tell you that? He kissed her on the day of the invasion. Twinkle Toes waited until everyone else was gone, but he apparently forgot that they were standing on a giant metal submarine. He's kind of stupid like that."

Zuko just sat back, re-thinking his efforts, that he apparently had been wasting, "Well….huh. I guess I was wrong. Maybe she doesn't like him that way."

Toph sniggered in the way she always did when people failed to hide things from her, "Oh, she likes him, Sparky. You don't enjoy a kiss that much unless you do."

"You can tell?" Zuko asked in an alarmed voice. Toph's semi-mind-reading abilities still creeped him out.

"Oh yeah, her heartbeat went through the roof and she apparently forgot how to breathe until Meathead reminded her that we had a nation to invade."

Now Zuko was downright angry now. "Well then why the hell are they still dragging this out!?" He asked, probably too loudly.

Toph smirked and raised one eyebrow. "I think the better question is why you care so much. I mean, I find the drama annoying, sure, but you're really going above and beyond." She nudged him in the side and winked, "could it be that our own resident Angsty McEmopants is secretly a hopeless romantic?"

Zuko elbowed her back, "I'll have you know that I care as his firebending teacher. Firebending is fueled by raw emotion and passion," he nervously tried to figure out a euphemism, "and I just, um, thought that if he had a particular something that invokes certain….urges, then it would give him a little boost."

Toph grinned again. "So you're hoping that Sugar Queen makes him hot in more ways than one?"

Zuko groaned. "Well, if you must put it that way, yeah. You've been hanging out with Sokka too much." He stood up, "I'm going to go find them to see if they do something stupid."

And, sure enough…

***************

Katara was a split second away from kissing Aang back when her eyes shot open

NO!

She pushed him away, trying to muster up some anger. "I just said I was confused!"

Aang simply looked down. He had the same look on his face as when she pulled him out of the Avatar state at the Southern Air Temple, and he had no choice but to accept that he was the last airbender.

"I'm going back inside." She had intended to calmly walk back into the theater, but she had to run to keep Aang from seeing her eyes watering. She burst through the doors and stopped a few steps in to try to get ahold of herself. That was when she heard the voice behind her.

"Katara, who exactly do you think you're fooling?"

She whirled around and saw Zuko standing behind the door, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Had he been listening?

"Yes, Katara, I was listening. So I'll ask you again, who do you think you're fooling?"

She turned around with a scowl on her face, determined not to get roped into this conversation. If she couldn't talk about Aang with Aang, how could she with Zuko? "Mind your own business, Zuko."

"Katara, you're a very gentle soul. You're peaceful, compassionate, understanding, slow to violence. To the point of stubbornness, in fact, which is one reason you two deserve each other. Hell, you didn't even kill the man who murdered your mother in cold blood. And yet even now, I don't doubt that you would have one second's hesitation to end me if you thought I might hurt Aang."

"Don't paint me in that light Zuko," She couldn't help but smirk, "I would totally give you one second's hesitation. Probably."

"So why are you putting up this 'confused' act?"

She put her hands on her hips and scowled, "You don't know how I feel, Zuko! Of course I'm overprotective of Aang, he's my best friend, not to mention that whole only-hope-for-the-world thing."

Zuko raised a skeptical eyebrow, "Your friend, huh? That's funny, because it's not Toph you were homicidally protective of, nor your own brother, who would be a lot easier for me to hurt, need I remind you. And don't think that I didn't notice you getting angry when those actors had you saying that you think of Aang as a brother. That wasn't a look of concern about Aang getting his feelings hurt, that was you pissed because they got something wrong about you."

"Well aren't you just the mind-reader?" she asked with enough sarcasm to upstage her brother.

"No, I'm not. I don't have to be. Newsflash Katara, the entire group knows. Sokka, Suki, Toph, even Duke, Haru, and Teo knew about it. Hell, all it takes is watching a single one of your 'waterbending sessions.'" He said the last two words with air-quotes.

Katara looked away nervously and blushed, "What do you mean by that?"

"Well, to be fair, I'm not a waterbender, but none of my training sessions involved my teachers pressing up against me from behind to correct my stance."

"So, I was making doubly sure he had the proper form, what's your point?"

"My point Katara, that I had the waterbending scroll in my hand as you were doing it, and he was already doing it right. There was no 'correcting' to be done."

"Alright, FINE!" She almost shouted, "Maybe I have some feelings for Aang, but…he can't afford any distractions or confusions right now."

"Katara, don't think that I'm stupid enough to believe that you're stupid enough to believe that. In what way would knowing that the person he loves loves him back and is there for him be a distraction? What is a distraction, however, is this game you're playing. Why do you think I'm here? I don't care about your love life, but this uncertainty is keeping me from doing my job as his teacher. Even after we trained with the dragons, Aang has been too timid, too hesitant. Firebending requires lowered inhibitions and absolute confidence in oneself. Now I know why he's been like that. Because the one time he was completely open and bold in his emotions about the thing most important to him, you left it hanging there untouched for weeks. And now that you've full-on thrown it back in his face, he might get even worse."

Katara couldn't keep her eyes from watering anymore, "Well then he should get over it! Get over me! What's the point, Zuko? It's not like my love for him will protect him! What, is your dad going to be so moved by our love for each other that he decides not to try to kill him?" She slumped against the wall and sat down, hugging her knees as tears streamed down her face, "He died in my arms once already in Ba Sing Se. I can't lose him all over again."

Zuko came over, sat down and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Before I left to join you, I had a girlfriend back home. Her name's Mai. You've already….become acquainted with her."

"I'm better acquainted with her knives, but whatever."

"When I left, I left a note for her saying that we weren't together anymore. I thought ending our relationship would make her lose her feelings for me, so that if anything happened to me, she wouldn't be hurt. Sokka and I are still alive because I was wrong. Even though we weren't technically together anymore, she still loved me enough to go against Azula and save my life, and I still love her enough for that knowledge that she's rotting in prison eat me alive every single day. Hiding behind words and technicalities about where you stand can't change how you feel. It just adds the weight of things not said if something does go wrong."

He stood up. "I'm going back to the seats. Think about it."

Toph was the only one already back when he got back to the balcony. "Have you seen Suki and Meathead yet?" he asked.

Toph answered with a punch to his gut, "Only I get to call him Meathead. But no. Honestly, Sokka has probably gotten them both thrown out of the theatre for harassing actor-Sokka. Twinkle Toes or Sugar Queen do something stupid?"

"Both did, actually. I think I might have managed to get to through to Katara."

People started shuffling in to retake their seats. "I will say this though, this intermission has definitely been the most dramatic part of the play so far."

[vydante]

Restart | 12

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Avengers x Male! Reader (romantically: multiple)

A/N: Missed y'all. I don't think I'm officially off of my hiatus, but I somehow managed to pull a chapter out of my ass after months of radio silence. I really did back myself into a corner with the last chapter, but hey, this is my story and I get to pace it however I want.

Sorry if things are worded weirdly, I'm writing them but they're going through one ear and out the other when it comes to comprehending what I actually wrote. No one will remember what happened, but that's okay. God, I really need a beta-reader... Anyways. Love y'all. XOXO.

Also, sorry if any of the formattings seems off. HTML doesn't really translate well over certain sites. (Tumblr, Quotev, Wattpad, and AO3 are now my main places for posting my works. Anywhere else, that's not me nor was it permitted by me.)

If you want a recap: You're in the process of jumpstarting Project Renaissance after realizing that you've just been doing basically nothing ever since you woke up in your old body. You've also taken to making video logs to report down your progress, and in the last chapter (that was in the POV of multiple video logs), it ended on a cliffhanger with Barnes being discovered and moved to a safe house.

This chapter takes place roughly after the last one. 

If you're currently binge reading this story, this recap is only because last chapter was updated... Roughly more than 7 months before this chapter. So. Yeah. :D

Oh, and let's pretend that either A. Barnes doesn't have a tracking chip in his arm OR B. he did, but you got it out during the whole rescue-escapade. That's my bad, I straight up forgot about that possibility until I was like, close to 4000 words deep into this chapter. Now we're at roughly 8k+... Hehe. Whoops.

_______

You're not gonna call Barnes, Bucky.

There's a personal touch to the nickname that bothers you. How awful it sounds in your ears, to call the former husk of a man a name he no longer recognizes. There's history to that name, both on writing and in memory, though only in sparsity. Plus, it'll be difficult for you to associate Bucky to Barnes. A man with an identity to a man without.

So after the whole debacle of getting him out of the mini-Hulk playbox and into decent dry clothing, when he asks what his name is, you quietly debated to yourself what to tell him.

"... Your name is James Buchanan Barnes," you'd eventually reply.

He doesn't comment on the resignation in your tone, but you're confident that he certainly noticed it- surely, the ticks of being the Winter Soldier was still there, no matter how disoriented he must be. But whether courtesy was something that he hadn't forgotten whilst his brain was refried over and over like leftover KFC wings or he was simply too exhausted to ask, you didn't care.

Granted, for a man who should have a lot of questions on his mind, he's definitely proven himself to be a man of very few words.

An hour goes by, and in the midst of you trying your best to build a solid standing between the two of you, he's said so few words that you could probably count all of them on both of your hands.

If it weren't for the nods of affirmation, you'd think that his averted gaze from you would have meant that he wasn't paying attention at all, but honestly, you knew better than to judge him for that if he actually wasn't actually listening in the first place.

Hell, he could tear up the walls to the high heavens and you still wouldn't hold him against it, so you were just thankful that he was so docile, for someone who could snap your neck if he felt so inclined.

Though, as it turns out confusion and disorientation wasn't the actual reason why he was being so docile, you belatedly realize as you're stood in front of a blank-faced Barnes. You're in the middle of trying to give him a basic tour around the house when he quietly interrupted your monologuing.

"Mission parameters," you echoed his words, though mainly to yourself. He nods, and for once meets your eyes. There's neither confidence nor surrender in his eyes, and that makes your stomach churn. Chances are, he probably saw nothing wrong with asking such a thing.

"You want me to give you- mission parameters. Like- like your handlers would?" You laughed incredulously, but the humor was replaced with subdued hysterical horror.

You were aware of what they were. Aware of the types of hunts his Handlers- bastards- would sick him out on. Aware of what he did without a second thought. You saw those files, if only briefly. That was more than enough for you to see the type of expectations that came alongside "mission parameters".

He nods as if you were stating the obvious.

God.

You opened and closed your mouth, and for a split second, once you got past the horror of being asked to tell him what to do, a subtle realization crawled up your spine. In the midst of your impromptu introduction and briefing, you never really made a distinction as to what role you were supposed to play in all of this.

So it shouldn't be a surprise for Barnes to assume that you're his new- what? Handler? Caretaker? After all, as far as you can assume, that's probably all he knows; all he was conditioned to grow accustomed to, to expect his every move to be dictated by some outsider with no care to the wants or needs that Barnes has.

(Hell, if you were to make a reach right now, maybe Barnes thinks he doesn't have wants or needs. That he shouldn't.)

(In the background, a part of you simmer in silence.)

With your jaw clenched, you make an effort to make your voice as even as can be when you ask him, "You don't need mission parameters, Barnes. You're your own free man. You can- can make decisions on your own. You don't need me to tell you what you need to do."

Pray as you might, there's something about realizing that you said the wrong thing right after saying said words that make you wonder what you did to anger the higher powers that be to put yourself in the situation you're in right now.

Barnes doesn't say anything, but his eyes says it all. Confusion. Realization. Grief. Detachment. His metal hand clenches, and you're man enough to admit that it made your heart stutter in fear.

"I...", he mutters, "... don't understand."

You swallowed.

This...

This is gonna be tough.

_______

It's difficult to explain what self-autonomy and freedom meant to a man who is only capable of remembering being chained and held on a leash like a rabid dog.

Thankfully, it was your winter break, so you had a manageable excuse for being away from "home" for a few days, but you only had so long to try and establish to Barnes that you're not going to be able to be there with him as often as you are now (and even then, the time frame was too small to even make any sense of attachment).

You knew for sure you couldn't always be there for Barnes, so one thing was certain: he had to meet DAHLIA. And thankfully, since the whole safe house was yours, not even your father knew that DAHLIA, your own A.I., would be uploaded into the houses' built-in hardware.

(While the hardware was built with the intention of housing J.A.R.V.I.S. there as a standard, he ended up "moving out" the moment that the house became yours. Something about "not intruding on a teenager's privacy", but you're more than thankful for Tony's afterthought, even if you did end up taking slight advantage of his consideration.)

And surprisingly enough, Barnes wasn't really bothered by the concept of DAHLIA as much as you had initially expected. Of course, he didn't really talk to her, but it wasn't like he talked much in the first place.

(On a side note, it looks like DAHLIA seems to like the house, all things considered... So there's that.)

(The original DAHLIA was never installed here, instead she ended up "living" in a retirement house of sorts in a wooded area of New York. She never said anything about the house, so it's... Kind of endearing, to see that she actually might prefer this house instead. And mildly insulting, considering you personally decorated the other house.)

You ended up spending nearly the whole night trying to establish even the most basic of guidelines: use the bathroom whenever he needed to (you initially said phrased it as "wanted", but he promptly cut you off saying "The Asset does not have wants," which, rude, but also sad); whatever is in the kitchen is available for him to eat whenever, where ever; basic hygiene; and the most important one- if he had any questions, his first source would be you. And on the off-chance that you're not available, DAHLIA is always online and ready to help.

He gave a tentative nod, but you're somehow not confident that he might have interpreted it wrong. You're hoping he doesn't do anything to prove you right.

"Alright. So. Any questions?"

He stares at you for a beat too long before shaking his head.

He's still giving non-verbal answers for the most part, but it's better than nothing. You internally sighed and motioned him to follow you deeper into the safe house.

Considering that it was already pretty late by the time you managed to beat those guidelines into his head (maybe that should be worded better, but you never claimed to be a lyricist; it is what it is), he might be just as tired as you are from how long the day has been.

(Granted, this dude has been "asleep" for who knows how long, but it's the thought that counts.)

"You know where I'm taking you to?" you asked, not really expecting an answer from him.

"No," he responds from behind you. Color you surprised.

You turned into the hallway and stepped up to an unassuming door. You opened it to reveal an equally unassuming bedroom. Muted colors, modern design; it reeked Pepper's doing, knowing that Tony isn't as decoratively-inclined as she is.

Hah, bet she didn't expect that instead of housing you or your dad, it'll go to a super-solder that wasn't Steve instead.

(Not that Steve would ever have a reason to step foot in here, but in this line of work, you'd be stupid to be 100% sure about something.)

You motioned him to come into the room and tilted your head to the bed.

"This is your bedroom, pretty much where you'll be sleeping. There's a bathroom right over there," you motioned to the door adjacent to the entrance door, "and I'll be in the room right next to yours."

Barnes takes a second to process it all, and with a quick scan of the room with calculating eyes, he nods. You absentmindedly scratched the back of your neck.

"I mean, there's plenty of rooms here so if you don't like this one, just let me know and we'll probably move you to another room-" you rambled, secretly trying to get a move on so you'd finally get some shut-eye.

(What? You're not perfect, sleep is heavily slept on in this day and age. Hah.)

(God, you're definitely going to hell.)

"-and you know how to use a toilet, right?"

The raised eyebrow pointed at you definitely proves that that was a pretty stupid question, but hey, you can't take any chances. You shrugged, a tired smirk threatening to form on your lips.

"Well then. Can I leave it to you to settle down for the night, or...?" you left it open-ended.

He didn't say anything in response, only stared at the bed in front of him. There was a pregnant pause, but he nodded at you. There was a strange tilt to his eyes, but you didn't bother to think further into it as you were just thankful that you could finally rest.

"Well then, good night Barnes. I'll come by tomorrow morning and we'll continue to, er," you thought about it, "work, on your situation."

You made a swift exit out of his room and immediately into "your" room, which was literally right next to his. You immediately discarded your clothes and with a brisk shower and teeth brushing, you promptly dropped straight onto the bed with an audible grunt, wet hair soaking straight into the pillow.

Pulling the plush duvet to cover your body, you reached for your phone to check for any messages you might have gotten.

(3 from Tony; he asked where you were. You told him that you're staying at a safe house and that you needed a small break. It wasn't wrong, but definitely an omission of truth. A few days would be fine, right?)

(2 from Rhodey; it's a picture of a Goodwill's, and there's a silhouette in a nearby window of some guy. "This you?" he asks. "No ❤️," you sent back.)

(63 is from the group chat that the Avengers are in- ah, make that 64 and counting. It's just a bunch of nonsense from what you can gather, but you briefly scrolled through it anyways.)

Turning your phone off, you smushed your face into the pillow and sighed, a terrible knot forming at the pit of your stomach. With an open ear, you tried to hear any noise that could come from Barnes' room, but considering that the walls were reinforced and he was already quiet as it is, all you could hear was the AC running in the background.

"DAHLIA," you huffed, eyes drooping, "keep an eye on him, wake me up if anything happens."

"Got it," her voice echoes from the ceiling speakers.

You quietly tucked yourself in bed. As the exhaustion finally started settling in your body, the last thought that lingered in your head was "Man, I hope nothing bad happens tomorrow," before you drifted right off to dreamless slumber.

_______

The next day was, to say the least, a little disconcerting, but a bigger improvement to be sure.

Right after waking up, you begrudgingly put on some daytime appropriate clothes and stepped out into the hallway. You knocked on the door that was right next to yours, and gingerly opened it when you didn't hear much of a response.

"Good morning," you tentatively greeted. Barnes was sitting at the foot of the bed when you knocked on his door. He mumbled back a greeting and stands up to your eye level.

His clothes are still the same from last night, and judging by the clean state of his bed, he either woke up earlier than you expected or he was sat like that the whole night.

You're not too keen on finding out which was the case, but you had to.

"Sleep well?"

You stepped out of the doorway and motioned him to follow you. Briefly glancing down at your phone to see just a few messages waiting for you, you opted to ignore them for now.

"I slept."

He quietly stated from behind you. He avoided saying if he slept well or not, but at least the damn Terminator slept. You mentally deflated a little; the bar was set so low for him, you're not too sure who it's more insulting to- you or him.

(Of course, it's to him, that shouldn't be a question. Your feelings don't matter.)

"We're gonna have to wing this a little, but uh, here's the general gist of what's gonna happen."

Stepping into the kitchen, you're taken aback to last night as he tentatively stands across from you from the kitchen island. Really, you'd opt to go to the living room, but you both radiate too much nervous energy to really sit.

You opened the refrigerator and sighed when all that greeted you was water and non-perishables. Right. You just got here, it's not like there's gonna be freshly stocked food in here 24/7.

"DAHLIA, order some fresh food and get it delivered today. Charge it on my debit," you mumbled quietly.

DAHLIA doesn't say anything, but the refrigerator lights flicker a familiar green hue that keys you in that she heard you. You raised an impressed eyebrow; what an unnecessary feature for a refrigerator to have. You closed the door and turned around to face Barnes.

"I'm here to serve as, say, a guide for," you gestured to him, "your... rehabilitation, of sorts."

"For now, I can't really offer any... Professional help, on a technical level. I'm not- that's not my area of expertise. I'm an engineer at heart," actually, you really liked other things more than being an engineer, but your fate of becoming the CEO of SI was sealed the moment you decided to live with your dad, "so we're going to have to make a compromise on that."

You shook your head.

"If you were anyone else, I'd point you to a shrink," Barnes gives you a confused stare.

"Therapist," you clarified. He nods.

"But quite frankly," Zemo's face flashes in your memory, "I don't trust anyone to properly... Well, I don't trust anyone when it comes to the mental health of you, and the Avengers too, of course."

Pausing mid-rant, you raised an eyebrow at him.

"You... do know who the Avengers are, right?"

He nods and begins to rattle off a pre-scripted monologue. His eyes are blank as he started speaking.

"A group of top priority, compromised of highly skilled individuals, enhanced or otherwise specified. Threat priority ranges from 5 to 9. As of now, 6 active-duty members and 1 reserve member. The Asset is to not engage under any circumstance and reveal-"

"Alright alright, I get it- that's," you're a little offended that you're considered a "reserve member", but that's not technically wrong, "That's a lot to unpack there, but yeah. You- whew, you definitely know who the- we are."

(You've gotten into the habit of distancing yourself from the Avengers the moment that you had become CEO. You're still working on that, but the word "we" still feels wrong on your tongue.)

There's a little more life that came back to Barnes' eyes after you had snapped him out of it, and it's a bit surreal knowing that Barnes just kinda... runs on autopilot when prompted. The image of Barnes being strapped down in a chair and forced to learn and recite those kinds of things by heart is both horrifying and a little funny.

(Do you think they had a set curriculum he had to learn by?)

"So yeah. The Avengers gotta be careful when lookin' for shrinks, and so do you. There's just too many factors that go into gettin' a personal therapist. So for now," you shrugged, "you're stuck with me."

"What are they?"

"Hm?"

"The factors."

You shrugged.

"Well, for starters, you're- you were, HYDRA's prisoner," the muscle around his jaw visibly clenches when you mentioned HYDRA, but you powered through, "so they'll definitely be interested in getting their fight dog back. They're good at blending in and good at getting their musty little fingers into every nook and cranny. I wouldn't put it past them to have one of their agents go undercover as a therapist for hire. So that's one factor: trying to discern who is and isn't HYDRA."

You raised a finger.

"Then there's the fact that because you're such a... shall we say, top priority, er, asset," that word runs bitter on your tongue, "even if your shrink isn't HYDRA, they'll definitely be targeted by HYDRA if it ever came to light that they have a direct link to you. So there's reason number two: loose ends, and the risks that come with it."

You raised another finger. By now, Barnes has a hard but contemplative curl to his lips.

"And then not to mention how unique your case it. Barnes, you've been a POW for decades. Your brain- no offense buddy, but from what I can tell, it's been fried to hell and back. I don't even have to do any fancy brain scans to know. And that's not even including all the other stuff they probably did to you, only God knows."

You shook your head.

"There's too much at risk for you to get proper therapy right now. But. It's not impossible."

You think back to Shuri, and how she and the other Wakandan scientists were successful in both removing the trigger words and rehabilitating Barnes.

Well, you're not sure about the last part, since you never interacted with the Barnes of your time, but you'd assume that they did help with his subsequent mental health. You wouldn't really put it past them- T'Challa was a nice guy, from your limited interactions with him way into the future, and Shuri was buzzing with ideas and energy. If T'Challa's sympathy for Barnes wasn't enough, then Shuri's crave to help and experiment would supplement the balance plenty. Vice versa, too.

So yeah, future-Barnes' mental health was most likely addressed during his time in Wakanda. And it was almost guaranteed to have been a success.

So you're still gonna hold a torch for the possibility that Barnes' can come out of this as a relatively well-adjusted guy.

Not to mention B.A.R.F. As far as you know, the R&D team assigned to that was still progressing smoothly, but the only downside to that was that it wasn't going to be until a few more years before it's "perfected".

You were never really involved in any way with B.A.R.F. since you were both prepping for SI and finishing college. Your dad was definitely more involved in it than you were, but it's not like you could ask him to pull a few year's worths of experimentation and knowledge out of his ass and exponentially boost the rate of B.A.R.F.'s progress, so.

Helen Cho suddenly sprang to mind, but you quickly threw away that thought. Your- well, Barnes'- issue was neurological, Cho was all about cell regeneration and is a geneticist. So unless somehow the issue crosses over with Cho's line of work, she wasn't a possibility either. There was also Strange, but as far as you've heard the man was pretty... abrasive, even as a wizard. Hard to get a hold of, and very... Hard-headed.

Well, all of that was second hand since it came from Tony, but still. Maybe you could pull Tony in for some clout, but that'll just make him suspicious. God, maybe you shouldn't have kept the whole "I'm actually from the future" spiel a secret, otherwise you wouldn't have to be doing all this crap alone.

Oh well. In for a penny, out for a pound.

You sighed, already feeling the dull thump against your skull starting to form.

"So what now?" Barnes asks. He's less tentative than he was last night, but still soft-spoken when he talks.

"Well, you're stuck with me, bud. I'll do my best to get you prepped for the actual rehabilitation, but honestly, that might take a little longer than you'd expect. So, we'll just- well."

You eyed the outfit he was donning, which was literally your clothes- so it was a few sizes too small for him. He doesn't really seem bothered by it, and if it weren't for the fact that he's sort of proved himself to be neglectful of voicing his own preferences, you'd be a little more inclined to appreciate the view of one very, very beefy super-soldier.

But alas.

Life never really works in your favor, so.

"We'll need to get a few essential things out of the way. Food is already on its way, I assume you aren't allergic to anything?"

He pauses, and there goes that familiar glaze forming over his eyes. You sigh, knowing that he was probably searching through his mental "data-bases" for any allergies, but thankfully it's not long as he blinks back into attention.

"None."

"Yeah, I could'a figured, what with your super-soldier serum."

(You're pretty sure that also makes him immune to cancer, but maybe that's just you glorifying it.)

"So: the food situation is cleared. Now, we need to get you some new clothes because, uh, those don't look very comfortable."

"Comfort does not matter. I am adequately dressed."

You snorted. Maybe it's better that you don't tell Barnes that he's wearing a Sharknado tee and some sweats that have "Eat this!" printed on his behind.

(And maybe it's better that you didn't remember that yes, these are indeed still your clothes.)

"Comfort does matter, my guy. DAHLIA, take some quick measurements."

The kitchen light dims and brightens, shining lime green into the kitchen. It lingers and turns back into that white-blue that sometimes makes your eyes burn when you've been up for too late into the night.

"Seargent Barnes' measurements are now on file. You two want to see the available catalog?"

Right where the kitchen island was, a panel opens up to reveal a hologram of a bunch of articles of clothing, all of which has been adjusted to Barnes' size- or an approximate at least, since there's some that's labeled X or XL.

"Barnes? You got anything you want to do right now or...?"

You gestured to the hologram in front of you.

His face contorts a little, not too noticeable at a quick glance. He doesn't look uncomfortable per se, but judging by the downwards curl of his lips, he's definitely not excited to see the hologram.

You flicked your wrist and it disappeared just as quick as it appeared. Strangely enough, his expression doesn't loosen up as his eyes flicker upwards to yours.

"Hey, that's okay. If it's the hologram, that's no biggie, we'll just move over to the, uh, TV in the next room over. C'mon."

You jerked your head and motioned him to follow you. His face laxes and he walks behind you without a word.

_______

You two ended up getting a lot done all things considered.

Barnes seemed pretty bothered by how many clothing choices there are, but when you asked if he wanted you to just curate a list for him, he easily relented. He was hovering over you the whole time, but you weren't too bothered by it as you were too busy browsing for him.

You went from site to site searching for clothes that screamed "The Winter Soldier", but all that was coming up was clothes in fifty shades of black and with no pizzaz. You did pass by a few Avengers-related merch (especially yours), but he said nothing when you added two or three into your cart, so he probably doesn't care. You did show him a lot of clothes that you thought would fit him, and he nodded to pretty much all of them.

By the time you were done looking for clothes, the doorbell had rung.

("That was quick," you reminisced. DAHLIA was quick to respond.

"It came from a nearby Walmart."

"Huh.")

Barnes' head jerked as his eyes were trained on the entrance door. You patted his arm, and his eyes glance at you.

"Relax, it's just the food. DAHLIA ordered some groceries earlier."

You stood up to go answer the door, and Barnes followed suit. You raised an eyebrow at him, but he doesn't really seem like he's gonna back down anytime soon.

"You know... You can follow behind, but you're gonna have to be in the shadows or something 'cuz, you know... Just- if someone's still at the door, don't let them see you okay?"

He nods, almost mechanically so, and you turned around and walked to the entrance door.

Opening the door, you were greeted with a few big boxes. You raised an eyebrow and glanced out through the door; there are no cars nearby, and DAHLIA whispers in your ear that the clearing's safe- not a single life signature anywhere.

"Barnes, the coast's clear," you called out, already reaching down to grab one of the boxes. You grunt, adjusting your grip before you lifted and turned around.

Barnes, having already popped out of whatever dark corner he was in, is already a few feet behind you.

"Hey, you don't mind helping me bring in those boxes, will you?"

You were already walking past him, but you barely caught the briefest flash of furrowed eyebrows before you saw him walk over to the door. You mentally shrugged, but placed the box in the kitchen and went back over to the door to get the other one.

By the time you were done setting down the box, Barnes had already closed the door and was standing under the arch connecting the kitchen to the main hallway.

You motioned him over, and he complied.

"What is inside?"

You're almost proud that you didn't jump. He doesn't talk much, but when he does it always startles you.

"Groceries, but I don't know what specifically. DAHLIA chose all of it. And by the looks of it, she chose a lot. So. You're gonna help me unpack and we'll probably- well, I'll probably make some food. You can help if you want."

Your back was turned to him, and you started unloading the boxes and their contents. Barnes doesn't move for a hot moment, but he squats down next to you and starts unwrapping the smaller boxes that were inside it.

"You don't mind if I put on some music, right?"

You glanced at him.

"I... don't. Mind," he mumbles, tentatively glancing back at you. You gave him a brief thumbs up and turned your attention back to

"DAHLIA, play something chill. Low volume."

_______

Pretty much, the whole day consisted of unpacking all of the groceries that had been delivered. You ended up pausing, having gotten tired of being awake without food in your stomach, and made some food for the two of you.

You tried conversing with him, trying to get him to at least feel more comfortable, and it... kinda worked. There are a few touchy subjects that he doesn't really seem to like talking about (he doesn't really vocalize his discomfort, but his flinches, no matter how minute they were, spoke louder than words). HYDRA, obviously. Anything revolving the Avengers put him off as well, among other things.

Really, most of the eating consisted of small talk and eating noises, but at least some of the tension in his shoulders had lessened by the time that you two needed to get back to unpacking. Hell, by the time that was done, Barnes' clothes had arrived.

(Oh, the benefits of being insanely rich. Say it with me kids: Thank you, Tony!)

You're usually a little apprehensive about buying clothes online, but color you surprised when not only did all of them fit; Barnes didn't have a single problem with any of them.

"You like 'em?"

You whistled when Barnes came out of his bathroom, now back in your clothes that you had given him originally. He tried all of them on, and you ended up buying him so many clothes that a lot of time had passed by the time he was done. You just sat on his bed, slowly collecting all of the clothes and ripping off the tags, damned if he didn't like one of them; you'll just take it instead.

"They're adequate," he nodded. In his hand were the folded clothes (A camo tee and dark sweatpants), and he set them onto his bed with the other folded clothes.

"Did any of 'em uncomfortable? Too tight, any of the fabric feels wrong...?"

You left the question open-ended as you helped him dump it into a laundry bin. He doesn't respond right away as if he didn't hear you. His eyes flicker over to yours.

"... No. They- I..." the muscle under his eye spasms, "I liked them..."

You grinned, "Glad to hear that, guess we got lucky that none of these was a dud, huh?"

The ghost of a smile that was on his lips appeared briefly, but it was gone just as fast as it had appeared.

Really, that had basically been the peak of the day before things had started to mellow out a little bit. But that was okay, you took whatever it was that Barnes gave, and if it was just the smallest smile you've ever seen on a man, then so be it.

Afterward, the day somehow managed to blend together and pass along like an exhale. Not much happened, since you couldn't really- well, offer anything that could scientifically and medically help him. So you opted to just- try to get him up to date as much as possible.

Honestly, by the time that you had gotten through the first three decades (starting when he was born), it was already pretty late into the night.

(He had a lot of questions, and you really didn't blame him. Hell, most of the more personal information really came from DAHLIA, because as much as you sympathized with the man, you really didn't care to learn about his whole entire biography.

But, at least you answered most of the history related questions. If you had to go through a few history college classes back when you were in college, then you'll be damned if you didn't at least make an effort to learn and internalize them.)

Barnes didn't really show any signs of exhaustion if the casual leg bouncing wasn't enough, but you sure were pooped.

(What? Unlike your dad (and most of the Avengers) you actually had a normal internal clock. For the most part, anyway.)

"Well, as much as I liked talking about prehistoric times," you sounded sarcastic, but you actually did like it, "I gotta sleep, I don't run on super-soldier energy like you do bub."

You stood up, stretched, and saw that Barnes was now standing up as well.

"Should I...?"

Raising an eyebrow, you huffed in good nature, "Go to sleep? Yeah, probably. We're not done with the History101 crash course, and we'll probably be talking about other things tomorrow as well," especially about the fact that you're not gonna be at the safe house often soon, "so we both need the energy for that. So, go clean up and get some Z's, yeah?"

"Oh."

He looked a little lost but followed you back into your shared hallway. Stopping in your doorway, you turned your head to glance at Barnes.

"Good night, Barnes," you nodded, not waiting for a response as you headed into your room. It was quiet and almost inaudible, but you still heard it with your ears before you had closed the door shut.

"... Good night."

You stood in your room, a sudden wave of both exhaustion and dread flooding your body. You shook it off though; it was just the nervous jitters hitting you at an inopportune time.

But really, you trusted your guts almost as much as you trusted Tony.

So as you brushed your teeth and did your business in the bathroom, you tried to quell the anxiety that was building up in your chest.

"DAHLIA, keep an eye on him."

"Gotcha, doll."

You sighed, dropped onto your bed, and hoped that whatever it was that might happen, you'd be prepared for it.

_______

And lo and behold, it didn't even have to be the next morning before shit all hit the fan when DAHLIA wakes you up in the middle of the night (3 A.M., to be specific).

"-oll, wake up! Barnes is having a panic attack!"

It takes half a second to process the fear in DAHLIA's voice. It takes another to process her words.

Fuck.

Scrambling immediately out the bed, you thanked whatever higher being there is that you were sleeping with at least some sweatpants on as you booked it straight to your door and right through Barnes'.

(Maybe you should have joined the football team, because that would have been one wicked tackle. Ha, yeah right, you know nothing about football.)

The lights were on, most likely DAHLIA's doing, and his bedsheets were clearly mussed up. He's nowhere to be seen, so your eyes jump to the joined bathroom door, and lo and behold, there was light bleeding through the cracks.

You quickly approached the door and opened it, throwing away the worry that he might have been absolutely naked.

The good news was that he wasn't nude.

The bad news was that he was hunched over on the ground, right in front of the bathroom counter, and he's gripping his head so tightly you would have thought his skull would have caved in.

Terror shoots down your spine like a lightning bolt, and you immediately rushed to the curled over Barnes, adrenaline rushing through you as a million thoughts ran through your head.

"Barnes!"

He doesn't appear to hear you, groaning and panting as he further curled in on himself. His muscles spasm, hard, and you're at a loss at what to do. He's sickly pale, and the sheen on his skin makes you want to vomit. His panting is shallow, and if you weren't sure if the glint that shone in your eyes was the reflection off of the marble floors or a puddle of saliva coming from Barnes.

You're not sure if touching him right now is a good thing, but you'll be damned if he wasn't your responsibility now. You reach out to him, wrapping one arm around his hunched back and the other trying to pry at his wrists.

(Would you have touched him, if you didn't have the reassurance that DAHLIA has your back?)

(Shut up.)

Maybe you were tensing up for him to go all "Winter Soldier" mode on you, but he's the one that tenses, even more, when you touched him. Thankfully, he doesn't resist your pull as his arm is limp the moment you tried to pull it back, but it doesn't change the fact that he's shaking, badly, and your mind is frozen in limbo.

"DAHLIA, what-"

You're at a loss for words, but DAHLIA, sweet DAHLIA already knows what you were about to ask.

"Sergeant Barnes was displaying elevated levels of anxiety, however, it did not seem to warrant any mentions. I thought-"

She cuts herself off, almost as if she was worried that she had made a wrong call. You swallowed, knowing that despite being a baby A.I., she's never done wrong by you- both in the future and now.

"You thought what?"

You try to rub Barnes' back as if he was a dog that had needed soothing. He groans, but you're not sure if you should interpret that as a hurt groan or a relieved one. You paused and moved your hand away, hovering it just inches away from his back, and his breath hitches.

Your hand dropped onto his back once again, and you could feel the muscles on his muscles spasm a little; his whimpers aren't as loud and painful (though, they're still more than worrying).

So, on the very small bright side, back rubs don't seem to be hurting him either. It's a small win, but a win for sure.

"You- my visuals were clear in the conclusion that you saw it. His discomfort. Your body language and expression acknowledged it but you refrained from addressing it. I- acted under the assumption that it was all under control..."

Something in your mind pauses for a pregnant second before your eyes widened.

"What?"

DAHLIA doesn't even get the chance to reply as Barnes jerks his hands away from yours and pulls at his scalp again. You lurched forward.

"Hey! No!"

You bit back a growl as you grabbed his wrists once again. You yank them back down to his sides as his body jolts, a sob ripping through him. You placed a hand on his chest and tried to boost him back up so he'll have his back against the bathtub that's behind him.

He offers little to no resistance as his back makes contact with the bathtub, but he's slumped into himself. He pulls his knees forward and curls his head into them. For a super-soldier, it's almost cute how hard he's trying to take up as little space as possible if it weren't for the fact that your heart was absolutely breaking at the sight of him.

"Oh, Barnes..."

In shuddered breaths, he mumbles something incoherent.

"...-an't, I- I- I-.... -can't..."

He shakes his head, jolting as if someone had shocked him. You rubbed his arm, glancing down at what you can now confirm to be a puddle of saliva, and then over to the trash can right next to the toilet. You're not too sure if you should get it just in case he decides to vomit, but you're ready to lunge for it the moment Barnes shows any signs of gagging.

"DAHLIA," you spoke at a lower volume, "what- when was he, um, uncomfortable."

"Two nights ago, roughly 22:00, when you told Sargeant Barnes that he was his own free man. Yesterday morning, 08:00, when you asked if he wanted to do anything prior to browsing the available clothing catalog. Right after, he was also discomforted by the catalog, before you offered to buy clothes for him. At-"

"That's- that's enough," you breathlessly muttered. DAHLIA doesn't say anything else, but the air has suddenly become heavier than you remembered.

Your head was almost dizzy with not only how many instances Barnes had been anxious in such a short time, but also at how you remembered each and every instance with startling clarity.

Barnes was anxious at the idea of freedom, but you put it off and opted to just give him a nickel tour of the house.

Barnes was anxious when you asked if he wanted to do anything before looking at clothes, but looked too relieved when you brushed over it.

Barnes was anxious at the idea of shopping for fucking clothes but was okay after you took over for him.

The taste of stomach acid burned your tongue, as yesterday's dinner threaten to rise at the implication of all of this.

"DAHLIA," you mumbled, "the- the rest of those instances- do they..."

You trained your eyes on Barnes.

"Do they all- follow the same... The same- pattern?"

DAHLIA was always in tune with you, even after the time jump.

"... Yes," she lamented.

"God..."

Now, you're not sure who that trash can would be really for; you or Barnes.

"Barnes..."

You murmured quietly. He flinches, and his shaking hasn't gotten any better.

"What- what was it? Was it- was it all too much? God, I'm so sorry, it probably was, wasn't it? I should have- fuck, I should have taken it more slowly, I-"

Barnes shakes his head, stopping you in your rambling. You blinked rapidly.

"Then- was it..." you paused, "... Was it the choices?"

It's almost expected that he doesn't answer you straight away, but he nodded anyway.

"I... It was- it was too much- I couldn't- I don't know- I-"

His breath shuddered with each word as if it hurt him to just even speak right now. You shushed him, ignoring the intrusive thought that it was akin to shushing an animal.

"Hey, hey, it's- it's okay. You'll be okay."

It's not much, what you're saying to him, and it's no surprise that they didn't do much anyway.

Honestly, you didn't know what to say at this point. There didn't even seem to be any phrasing in the known English language that would be able to comfort a man with as much baggage on his shoulders as Barnes, and briefly, just briefly, you wished that you were literally anywhere in the world, but here.

You tried thinking about anything that came from your (albeit limited) interactions with him between the past days that would help ground him, before something jolts you from deep within.

("What are my mission parameters," Barnes asked from behind you.

You paused.

"Mission parameters?")

You didn't even realize that you had said that out loud, but Barnes had tensed up even more before you could even take it back. He held his breath, audibly swallowing.

("You don't need mission parameters, Barnes. You're your own free man. You can- can make decisions on your own. You don't need me to tell you what you need to do.")

("I... Don't understand...")

You spoke on impulse.

"You... You need them, don't you? Mission parameters."

Immediately, you regretted even speaking up just as those words left your mouth.

While every fiber in your being hoped that it wasn't true, there was a small inkling in your head that already knew the answer to your question. It was the only thing that was barely even logical enough to make sense.

His apprehension of making a choice.

How uncomfortable in his own skin he always appeared, despite it even being just a few days.

How relieved he always looks, when the choice was already made for him.

His body tenses underneath your hand, but it's the slight bob of his head that makes your stomach drop. You thought- what a fool you were- you thought he'd be okay without being ordered around, but that was nothing but wishful thinking.

(What was the saying? It's hard to teach an old dog a new trick, was it?)

(Yeah.)

Looking at how only a few days of what you had originally thought was Barnes' newfound freedom turned out to be much more of a nightmare for Barnes, it might just be better for the both of you to push aside your comfortability and start making an honest-to-God investment into Barnes' recovery, even if that means that you had to take a step backward.

A very, very risky step backward.

It was a shot in the dark, but it was the only thing that you could place your bets on for now.

You just hoped that your aim wouldn't fail you now.

"Okay, well... How about this, Barnes, here's your main- your main mission, okay? Become a free man. Hey, no, look at me," you swiveled his head so he could look at you. His eyes were panicked, crazed, and irredeemably sad, but you had to make sure nothing crossed through your face so he'd know that everything will be okay. Your grip on both sides of his face was firm as you pleaded with him.

"Your only 'mission' right now? Breathe," ironically, his breath hitched, "If not for your own sake, then for mine."

You swallowed, heart stuttering as you looked into his glassy eyes.

"Please," you let your desperate prayer lingered in the air.

Maybe it was being given a task to accomplish after days of trying to figure out what to do with his supposed new "freedom", or it was how non-labor intensive and just... simple, his new mission parameter was, but it was almost instantaneous how all of the tension in his body dissipated into thin air.

Witnessing the moment of mercy upon grief through Barnes, no matter how brief or temporary it may be, was almost cathartic.

Almost.

(Perhaps you shouldn't be looking for absolution vicariously. But you were never really a good person, were you?)

_______

A/N: I've read a lot of WinterIron fics. While I have read a lot of interpretations about how Barnes would have reacted when he was freshly freed from HYDRA, this is how I choose to interpret it- one that would best fit the story for now. Next chapter, since I couldn't fit it in this chapter, is a special, but it is very much important and related to the story, and Barnes as a character. If you're familiar with some WinterIron tropes, this won't be too foreign of an idea. Not too sure about other ships/ stories, but. Ah, I'm rambling. Anyways, see you next year lol.

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Masterlist 

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Tagged: @unsolvetheheckoutofit @tonystanktheirondad @ludwigvonbaethoven @rspctot7 (if you’re not @/ fabledxmystery, so sorry for the mistag! LMK if it’s not you) @tolkoskott @klanceiscannon14 @deos-life (grr it won’t let me tag you) @kp1183 (kperla1183) @xyuriko-akamine (akabaneyuriko) @kettnerjanea​ @soldier-42 @daybreakmistakes @spnfanboy777 @crash-zite @jm-cy

[reallystellacadente]

A Fresh Start

This was supposed to be part of a longer work that I won't describe because maybe it will eventually get written. But I'm testing the waters of this fandom again, working on various WIPs (AU story We Belong will be completed!!) and felt like I should just get this out there. It initially had an edgier title but I got distracted and forgot it.

Content warning for brief violence.

Find it on AO3 here. My epic take on the Quinn/SW story is here.

================================================

Two heavily bearded prisoners, one reeking of piss and shit, the other a bit better kept, were dragged before the magister’s desk.

He was a civilian advocate, a military retiree compelled to return when asked to serve in this role. His sole job: to pass judgment on errant military personnel. On occasion, his rulings were dictated from on high. He did both with all the brains and heart he could stomach.

And he did so from behind a simple wooden table behind a meter-high plasteel panel in a cold, steel gray room.

Today, it was two officers. He hated this part of the job. Because either they were guilty and a shame upon the service, or they were innocent and being framed to protect someone higher up who actually was guilty. So still, a shame upon the service.

Today, he had one of each. The first case was open and shut: A young lieutenant had gotten drunk and forced himself upon a barmaid. Normally, such a thing would be overlooked, since the young woman had not been severely injured, except she was the niece of a prominent Sith family. Human, but still Sith. He’d appealed, saying his drink had been spiked by a spiteful colleague. There was no way to prove it.

“Gorbinn, step forward.” The young man was clearly too weak to escape the guards holding him, so they dragged him to the front of the table. “You must stand to hear your fate, son.” The guards stood him up and then backed away.

“Jamith Gorbinn. The Military High Tribunal has reviewed your appeal. Your appeal has been denied. The sentence of death stands. It will be carried out immediately.”

The young man opened his mouth to protest, but one of the guards pointed his blaster at his head and fired before he could say anything. His body slammed forward to the duracrete floor and a pool of blood began to form.

A doctor walked slowly toward him, gave him a quick scan, and pronounced him dead.

The other officer somehow managed to pull himself up and the guards released their hold on him. He stayed in place, but stood up fully and attempted to straighten the dirty prison uniform he’d worn for the past three weeks. There was nothing he could do about the blood spatter on his left side. He assumed the magister would understand.

He’d last been given a clean uniform for his appeal hearing, brief and bewildering as it had been. He knew the process – all the arguments were laid out before the military court without the accused present, unlike the grueling court martial he’d been through the month before. Then the accused was brought in for a final statement, and questions if necessary. There had been none, but the officer had been certain that some of them looked upon him with pity and not scorn. It had been his only hope for these past weeks that somehow, his life might be spared.

Two young enlisted troops ran forward with a tarp and rolled the body onto it. The two guards who had escorted Gorbinn in lifted the body and dropped it onto the tarp, rolled it up and carried him away. One of the enlisted men went to the back of the room, just beyond the officer’s sight, and came back with a vibromop and a towel, and quickly removed any evidence of the justice that had just taken place.

Now it was obvious what the plasteel panel was for.

“Next. Prisoner Dorn-37652, step forward.”

Malavai Quinn, 27 years old, had been stripped of his captaincy and left without rank or even a name for the past three months since he’d taken it upon himself to countermand a moff’s misguided and cowardly orders. Reversing the retreat had saved hundreds of thousands of Imperial troops and hundreds of ships. It had been a glorious victory for the Empire, but it had come at a severe price to him personally.

He hadn’t regretted it until the court martial, when one of the judges remarked he had known Quinn’s father, who had died months earlier at Rhen Var, in service to Darth Mekhis. “You bring great shame upon a glorious military family,” she spat.

“I would not change what I have done, your honor. My actions were for the good of the Empire. We won the day and thous…”

“You disobeyed orders. There is no excuse.”

Quinn bowed his head and remained silent. The proceedings stretched on for three days, rather long for an Imperial court martial.

==

The young man bore a strong resemblance to his father, who the judge had researched while awaiting the decision he was to present as his own.

“Malavai Quinn. I have reviewed your appeal. The appeal of your death sentence has been approved, and the Military High Tribunal concurs. You will be returned to custody until such time as your final sentence has been determined and you are released.”

Quinn felt his stomach fall and then return. “Thank you, your honor. Sir.”

The judge rose slowly, picked up his datapad, and turned to leave. Quinn stood still, waiting for a formal dismissal.

“For the record, son, my granddaughter was at Druckenwell. She’s at home with her son now. I had no part in this decision, but I’m glad of it,” he said, turning his head back toward the defendant.

Quinn stood at attention and then nodded. “Sir, I may no longer be in service, but I am grateful nonetheless.” The two guards motioned toward Quinn, who followed them back.

As he retreated, Quinn figured he’d be dishonorably discharged, banished from Dromund Kaas and made to feel lucky he’d been left alive. There was nothing remaining for him here anyway. His mother had disowned him, whether she was still grieving for his father or worried about his sisters’ career and marriage chances, she hadn’t said. She was incensed he had refused an offer to simply leave the service without an official trial as part of a plea bargain. “You’re just being difficult, Malavai. You’re always difficult. You don’t think of anyone but yourself.”

“I’m thinking of the truth, Mother. It needs to be heard. Moff Broysc was …”

“I don’t care. Why should I? You don’t care. About anyone except yourself and your impossible standards. You’re worse than your father, and he’s a full colonel.” She brought a handkerchief to her eyes and mumbled into the cloth, “He was a full colonel.”

Quinn could never bear seeing her cry. “Mother, I’m sorry. I have to see this through.”

“Then you see it through alone. I’m done with you, Malavai. I have no need of a son who gives no thought to his family’s shame.”

And she cut the transmission. As a prisoner, Quinn had no way of contacting her, so he begged his advocate, who said they’d been unsuccessful at reaching her.

So this was it. Quinn followed the guards back to his cell. Two hours later, a fresh prison uniform was delivered and Quinn was ordered to the showers to clean up and shave.

He was escorted into a small workroom with a tabletop holo. A few minutes later, a large figure appeared and addressed him as “lieutenant.”

Quinn bowed, assuming he was addressing a Sith of some stature by the man’s dress and battle mask, and the high-end computer terminals behind him. “My lord, I have been stripped of my rank as a …”

“I know why you’re in there, Malavai Quinn. My name is Darth Baras. I have asked my master, Darth Vengean of the Dark Council, to spare your life in exchange for a new start with the military. You are to be transferred to Balmorra, where you will serve as my eyes and ears.

“Trust me, Quinn. Your talents will not be wasted.”

Quinn wasn’t sure what to say. He’d just been granted a new beginning. A humbling one, being returned to the rank of lieutenant when he was all but assured of a promotion to major before Druckenwell. And exiled to Balmorra, still a fresh warzone. But he was alive. And he was still Malavai Quinn.

He stood at attention, then bowed his head in deference. “Thank you my lord. I shall serve you faithfully for as long as I am required.”

The impassive metal face gave Quinn no clues as to the man behind it. It wasn’t even particularly frightening, like many Sith masks. His round figure likely meant the man was no fighter, or at least, had not been one recently.

“You will receive your official orders and a new uniform shortly. The shuttle to your new post leaves in two hours. You had best be on it. I will contact you again when I receive word you have arrived. Baras out.”

The holo went dark. Quinn was both elated and terrified. He was back in the service, his mind already calculating his newly possible futures: put on hold for a few months on Balmorra, a year at most, able to transfer back to a more relevant assignment after that. He’d be spending this time serving a Sith lord, a darth no less. As his father had done.

And look what that had gotten the man. Quinn vowed to do his father one better. Even disowned, he would make his family proud.

[eleanorbloom]

Adore You (Bryce x MC) 🍋🍋🍋

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x F! MC (Eleanor Bloom)

Warnings: N.S.F.W. Cursing.

Prompt: Day 23. Dry Humping | Breasts Worship | Frottage (Mods, I know I’m late, please forgive me 😭😭😭)

A/N: Hellooooo everyone! This is my official last kinktober fic. I have still a few half written but I’ll post them some other time. I actually no need a fest to write and post smut at this point 🤣 so I hope you don’t mind if I tag you in smut fics in the future. If you don’t want to be tagged anymore, just let me know!

I swear, I SWEAR I DIDN’T COPY BRYCE WORDS FROM LAST CHAPTER. I had this fic sleeping for two weeks, but I didn’t have the inpo to finish this until a couple of days.

A/N 2: Nikka, whether you read this on Tumblr or AO3, I hope you don’t mind. That’s all I have to say.

A/N3: This fic follows the events of Eighth Deadly Sin, my first kinkntober fic.

Taglist: @romewritingshop @utterlyinevitable @starrystarrytrouble @lahellacute  @lahamseiroshoe  @princesslahela @hermosaofraleighcarrera @choicesficwriterscreations @lucy-268 @interobanginyourmom  @bratzlahela @mercury84choices @openheartfanfics​

I hope you enjoy it!

______

The chatting of June and Baz was the first thing she heard when the doors slid open. “Hey, you okay?” Baz said looking at Eleanor from head to toes, her cheeks rosy and her face somewhat shimmering against the artificial light hanging over her head.

“Yeah, why?” She knew why, but she had to play the dumb. Luckily, it would work out with him. 

“You’re all blushed.” He chuckled. “Don’t tell me the pager found you at the other end of the building. I hate when that happens.”

Eleanor’s cheeks flushed even more. Not even the light pace and the quick stop to the bathroom to alleviate the heat on her face had been enough.

What could she say? ‘Oh, no, it’s just that I gave my boyfriend a massive blowjob in a supply closet, don’t worry, it’ll pass?’ Hell no.

“Actually yeah, I was heading to the E.R.”

‘They’re fucking diagnosticians, I bet June already knows what I was into. Baz would never, he’s too oblivious, and Ethan… I don’t know if his mind will go directly to the gutter just because I’m blushed. Oh, the hell with it, no one has caught me in anything.’

Eleanor tried to move on by taking a seat beside Baz and asking for an update on the case they’ve been trying to diagnose the whole day. A few seconds later, Ethan walked towards the table and informed her of the last results as he started to cross out some theories written over the whiteboard. 

The rest of the day went in a blur trying to discard some other theories, until, finally, Baz came up with the final idea.  

Once her shift was over, she changed her scrubs for a gray wool skirt with a green mint sweater, put her black jacket on, grabbed her bag, and after a few minutes of walking under the snow, she took the train towards Bryce’s apartment. 

The delicious smell floating around the apartment invaded her nostrils the moment Keiki opened the door. “Hey Ella, glad I get to see you!”

“Hey Keiki, me too.” Eleanor gave her a quick hug before the younger Lahela returned to the table and placed three glasses and three napkins in their usual spots.

Eleanor took a few steps to the couch to set her bag there when she noticed Keiki’s backpack was set there too, but completely full as if it was ready for a trip or something.  “Are you going somewhere?”

“Yeah, I’m staying over at a friend’s house tonight. We have a physics test tomorrow and she asked me to help her study, she couldn’t handle some topics.”

“Awww, and as the future astronomer of the family, of course you’ll use your star power to help her. That’s really nice of you.”

“She has been really sweet with me since the beginning, one of the few that didn’t judge me for my parents.” She shrugged and gave Eleanor a shy smile. “And I actually enjoy teaching physics, so…”

“I’m glad you have friends here, Keiki.”

Eleanor smiled at her before sauntering to the kitchen where Bryce was turning off the griller. He was wearing a pine green hoodie with dark jeans. His normal winter outfit at home. “Hey, love. This smells fantastic” She took him by the hips and lean on his tiptoes to kiss him. He smooched back sweetly.

“Hey, gorgeous. And I bet it’s tasting even better” He winked.

“Look at you, four months ago you didn’t even know how to cook pasta and now, all confident as if it was an appendectomy.”

“What can I say? I’m talented and I put everything in me when I’m interested in something.”

“Of course you do, Goldie.” She patted him on his head, teasingly.

Bryce chuckled and without prior notice, he bent down her face and licked her cheek wet and long.

“Bryce!” She giggled.  “What the fuck?!” Eleanor brought a hand over her cheek to dry the trail of saliva Bryce had left.

“If I’m gonna be a Goldie to you, I have to be in full mode, don’t you think?” He leaned again, but this time Eleanor moved as a reflex. However, Bryce was faster, so he managed to cup her head with both hands. But he only leaned to brush his lips over her earlobe before whispering, “And once Keiki’s gone, I’ll do it everywhere, so get used to it.”

She gulped and a shiver went down her spine and ended between her tights. Yes, just that simple words, that sole thought left her all wet. She had been imagining to be alone with Bryce in his room every spare time she found that afternoon. But alone in his apartment? Hell, no. 

Karma was definitely manifesting.

He gave her a smug grin at her reaction before turning around and grab a spoon from the drawer.

After shaking off the sinful thoughts off her head, she strolled to his side, to help him serve the dinner: grilled beef with rice and vegetables.

Half an hour later, Eleanor was doing the dishes, when Keiki’s cellphone rang.

“Okay, Nikka’s mother is here to pick me up, I’m leaving!” Keiki pocketed her cellphone in her jacket and then flung her backpack over her shoulder in one swift motion. “Bye Ella, nice to see you!” She blew her a kiss fast as she was approaching the door.

“You too, Keiki, have a nice study session and I hope you ace that test tomorrow.”

“Thank you! Bye bro!”

“You have everything you need with you? Phone charger, pajamas, pads, wallet, money, EarPods, books, pencils, pencil case?”

“Bryce! Stop messing. I have everything with me.”

“Well, I may not be your father, but I have to do the usual questions adults do to teenagers when they make sleepovers.”

“Oh, and you’re an adult? I would’ve never guessed.” She snorted before getting out of the apartment.

Eleanor chuckled from the kitchen, “I love that kid.”

“You don’t miss a moment, do you?” He said as he saw Eleanor placing the last plate on the dish dryer, and then walked towards her to wrap his arms around her hips, pressing his body flush to hers.

“You don’t miss a moment when we’re alone, do you?” She teased her hands over his and turning her head to one side so Bryce could kiss her cheek.

“I’ve been wishing to be alone with you here for months, so, no, I won’t miss a single second.” He kissed down to her jaw, to finally rest his lips on the crook of her neck for a couple of seconds, until finally went up to her earlobe, sucking it playfully. His hands slid up to her waist, ribcage until he reached her breasts. “At last. I’ve been imagining them in my hands since you left the supply closet.”

Eleanor lolled her head back, resting it over his shoulder, not doing even the slightest effort to dissimulate the pleasure his hands were provoking in her. 

There was no need.

“What else have you been imagining?”

“Well, for starters, getting rid of all your clothes until I have you completely naked over me.” Bryce sank a hand under her sweater and blouse and Eleanor felt his soft warm skin gripping her. Then his hand traveled up her chest, his fingers teasingly percolating under the fabric of her bra. 

“Fuck”, she sighed. “And what do you want me naked for?”

 “I want you naked so I can touch your tits and pinching them, kissing them, sucking them, hard, so hard, just as you like…” A soft moan escaped her mouth, and then, a whimper died in her throat when he pulled the lace down and pinched one nipple with his thumb and index. “And I touch you… and I suck you until you cum, until you shake over me…”

Bryce was about to tug her sweater out when a noise at the door startled them. The only thing he reacted to do, was pulling his hands out of her clothes, and place them in her hips.

And of course, to perform his best nonchalant face.

“Sorry, tomorrow I have p.e. and forgot my snickers!” Keiki said in a hurry, running to Bryce’s room, where she had all her clothes and shoes.

Bryce feigned to be really focused on only kissing Eleanor on the cheek. “God… this kid… I asked her if she had everything”, he complained loudly like they weren’t doing anything sinful before she got in. They walked to the hallway, Bryce not freeing Eleanor a single inch from his body, always wrapping her from the back, and somehow both managing the blush.

“Dude, give her some space” The girl teased, with her snickers on one hand before disappearing behind the door.

Bryce waited only a couple of seconds before sinking his hands under Eleanor’s shirt again, and whispered sultrily against her ear: “Now, where were we?” 

“Let’s check that she goes this time, okay?” Eleanor untangled herself from Bryce’s arms and walked toward the living room window and looked down. After a minute, Keiki ran toward a SUV, where she got in. Seconds later, the car turned around the corner and disappeared. 

Completely sure no one would interrupt them, Eleanor turned around and smiled at him “Now, where were we?” She repeated, before pouncing over Bryce and kissing him passionately.  As the exchange escalated quickly into desperate bites for their bodies, none of them couldn’t help the ragged breaths and soft moans escaping from their throats.

Bryce, finally, at last, could tug her shirt and sweater off, only leaving her with her indigo bra. The same happened with her skirt, and the only thing that was left was her black pantyhose. “I can help you with that,” She said peeling herself from the delicate fabric. 

When she looked up again to resume the kiss, she found her boyfriend already contemplating. There was something soft beyond all that hunger and desire. “You’re always so stunning, babe.”

“And you are beautiful and hot, and sexy, and I need to see more of you.” She purred, sliding her hands under his shirt, feeling his chiseled hips tensing at her touch.  She grabbed the hem of his Henley, and pulled it off, exposing his broad and muscled chest, smooth and warm, radiating the most exquisite heat that always characterizes him. That makes him the best hugger in the world. “Mmmmh yes.”

“I thought I was the one who wanted you naked.”

“I didn’t have the chance to tell my fantasy. And my fantasy is feeling your skin and all your heat against mine.”

"You can't resist my body, eh?" He gloated while Eleanor was unbuckling his jeans and tugging them down his ankles.

"No, I can't. Clothes are definitely a nuisance if it’s on you.”

Bryce took two steps to get rid of them and circled his arms around the small of her back. "What, would you want me naked all day if you could?"

“Should be in the ten commandments.”

“I really am nothing but a piece of meat to you, eh?”

“Yeah, that’s why I ate you out so good this afternoon.” She pouted and gave him a knowing smirk.

Bryce bit his lip, fascinated. “In that case, I demand you’re my piece of meat tonight.” 

“Bon Appetit, then, mon amour” And she captured her lips in his, thirsty, before circling her arms around his neck. Bryce lifted her up in one motion and carried her to the couch, where he sat down carefully, and Eleanor shifted her legs so they could straddle him.

They kissed passionately, fervently, voraciously. Being alone in the department was being such a turn on, more than they could’ve imagined. It was like all the passion, the longing and desire bottled up in all those months, were finally uncorking with every touch, every breath, every moan. “God, I feel like I’m gonna fuck you in so many ways, and everywhere…” He breathed, leaving a trail of kisses down her jaw.

“Except for Keiki’s bed, right?”

“Yeah, except that, that’s sacred.”

She chuckled, “Thank god you have some common sense.”

He continued pressing his lips now against her neck, sucking deeply when he reached her clavicle.

“Bryce, how many times I have to tell you… fuck”, his hands gripping her breasts roughly stopped her, the pressure on her skin making her anticipation grow inside her. After a few seconds, he moved both hands to her back and unclasped her bra, tossing it to the floor impatiently.

He didn’t wait a second before sucking her nipple with her mouth and pinching the other with his fingers.

She sighed. 

“All fucking afternoon imagining your tits in my mouth, sucking them hard... And finally…” When he sucked the other nipple, Eleanor moaned and started to buck her hips. 

“Holy shit, baby”

God. His hot breath against her sensitive skin, his expert and quick movements against her buds made her pleasure invade every fiber of her body.

Then, Bryce sank a hand in her underwear and grabbed her butt, but he stopped after a few seconds. “Baby, you’re not as I imagined you.” He whispered sultry, hooking the hem of her underwear with her thumb.

“I can fix that very quickly” She assured, and then stood up in front of him, both breasts wet and shiny with his saliva, and her nipples red and erected in his direction. 

 Eleanor took both sides of his lacy indigo underwear down, and now was standing completely naked in front of him. “That’s better?” 

Bryce leaned to her and slid his hands to her sides, his eyes roaming her body from her toes, up her curvy and rounded tights, and stopping in her hipbones, where he kissed them softly and ceremoniously at each side. Then a trail of kisses following up her waist, breasts, and chest. Eleanor straddled him again, so he continued on her shoulders, neck until he reached her chin and stopped. “My love, you are… god, I think words are not enough this time.” His voice was husky and low. Intimate. His gaze intense and transparent. Breathtaking. It made her heart skip a beat the way he was looking at her. And the way he was calling her. 

There were a few times when Bryce would use the words my love. It’s not that Eleanor wasn’t his love, but he only used those when he was completely and perfectly and incandescently in love. Enamored. Bewitched. Like a golden retriever trained only to love and worship her.

Just like now.

“Then show me”

“I will.”

She pressed her lips against his impatiently. She was burning inside, and she knew the fabric of his boxer was already wet with her arousal. 

He kissed down her chest again, hands roaming all over her body while his tongue was licking her nipple. “Fuck, yes” She whimpered, rubbing her nub against his crotch, finding some relief, but the desire was too much. The sensations, overwhelming. His soft touch on her skin, tracing the curves of her back, gripping her ass, pressing her hips while his mouth was sucking her breast hard was mind-blowing. She was dizzy, she lost all focus, there were so many places when she was feeling pleasure, and above all that pleasure, she could feel the love, every touch, every studied move he was doing, not only to please her and make her come, but to show her how much he loved her. 

He was adoring her.

“Bryce… Bryce…” She moaned “Ohhh, fuck” 

 Then he parted a little from her, took both breasts with his hands, and brought them as close as he could and began to lick them alternately and quickly like he had two ice cream cones and was tasting one at a time.  

“Bryce, baby, you’re amazing.” She cried, sensing her folds almost painfully swollen, and her climax near.

“I told you I’d make you cum this way”

“And I believed the very second you told me so.”

Bryce brought a hand to her waist and pulled her closer to him, pressing her against his tights, her sex tickling, craving for touch, but she needed to reach that so wanted orgasm only with her tits. She knew Bryce would do it amazingly.  

He brought the tip of his tongue back to her nipple and Eleanor brought both hands to his head, forcing him to stay there for a while. “Ohh baby I’m so close.”

He frantically slid the tip of his tongue into one nipple, then the other, and when he determined which was the one that caused her the most pleasure, he simply asked to confirm. "You prefer this one, right?" He whispered sucking her right breast, and Eleanor nodded with a small voice.

“Yes…”

Bryce continued to grab both breasts, but he slid his tongue down her right nipple and stayed there, waiting for her release.

“Come on, my love, I’ve got you.” He whispered while his thumbs were drawing circles in her swollen and reddened nipples. “Cum over me, babe.”

He sucked  and licked her again, and again until he felt her hips move convulsively and  her head lolled back, moaning hard. “Bryce, oh my god, yes!” feeling all her body electrified.

Then, she cupped his head with both hands, pulling his hair to rest her forehead against his. Her body warm with pleasure, and dizzy with sensations still coursing through her body.

Without noticing his intentions, she suddenly felt his thumb rubbing her folds and drawing circles over her clit. “Bryce, what the fuck”, she protested husky, her hips bucking as reflex.

He ignored her and kept moving his fingers, and every now and then sinking his fingers between her folds. “Come on, baby, I know you can do this”, he incited.

And she started to moan again, desperately, her legs shaking. And then, her whole body. The desire killing her slowly.

That was a whole new orgasm, different sensations, and he knew. He perfectly knew she could give him another.

She kissed her frantically, moaning hard, her body convulsing over him.

“Yes, baby, give it to me, you’re just as I imagined you.”

He had  two fingers inside her, and his thumb rubbing her clit. His hand all wet with her arousal, just as he wanted.

“You’re insane, you know that?” She said laboriously.

“You like me insane, you love me insane”

“Yes, babe, and please never change.”

Hard kiss again and he brought his two wet fingers to his sensitive spot and drew circles until she came screaming against his mouth “Fuck, fuck, FUCK, BRYCE!” while all her body was shuddering and her tiptoes curved furiously. 

Her words drew the smugest and most satisfactory smile Bryce had felt in a long time.

He only stopped moving his fingers until he obtained the last drop of her orgasm, when she became quiet for a moment and then collapsed to one side of the coach, her breath ragging and his skin damp with lustful sweat.

It took her more than usual to catch her breath.

“Are you okay babe?” He asked after a minute, leaning onto her.

“Yeah, I’m great, more than great, actually.”

“Good enough to give me a third?”

“Fuck, yes”

Bryce stood up and lifted her up in his arms and carried her to the kitchen counter.

“And you’re telling me I am the insane here.”

Eleanor sank a hand under his evidently wet boxers, and stroke his hardened cock.

“What can I say? You inspire me”

She directed her length to her core, and stared at Bryce, waiting for him to do the rest. He complied instantly.

“I’m gonna ask this Nikka kid to invite Keiki more often.”

“Mmm, yes...” She squirmed as Bryce began to thrust her slowly. “Seconded.”

Both kept enjoying the rare solitude until, hours later, both collapsed on the bed, destroyed. And shower sex was still pending for tomorrow.

Eleanor couldn’t walk properly in two days and no one could erase the smug grin over Bryce’s face for the next three days.

_____

Yes that line that Eleanor said, I did copy it from yesterday’s chapter 😂

Thank you for reading!

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

Rubber Ducky

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Explicit (E) Word Count: ~6.3k Notes: I was totally inspired by RDJ’s latest insta post! Between the motorcycle, gray hair, big ole’ combat boots, and the rubber ducky - it was hard not to write about it. Add on S’s insatiable need for that silver fox goodness and here we are! Warnings: There’s some smut in here, but that’s about it. Summary:

Born to old money, Tony is in the limelight simply because he exists. After a misunderstanding caught on video, he's personified as a spoil socialite & no matter what he does, he can't escape the title. Instead of letting it get him down, Tony uses it to his advantage - if anyone were to find out what he really did with his life, his reputation would be ruined. No one needed to know that he threw clay for a living or that one of the most successful ceramic business belongs to him.

When things become to much to handle on his own, Tony reluctantly takes on a personal assistant by the name of Peter Parker.

Preconceptions are a funny thing - Peter finds out just how nefarious they can be when he gets to see the real person behind the Tony Stark public persona.

Or: the one where RDJ and a rubber ducky serve as the best muse.

Read it on AO3 here.

In hindsight, Tony should’ve known his reputation would come from a spectacular misunderstanding.

In the early years, Tony was not nearly as schooled in maintaining his composure – especially when he deemed himself correct. One misunderstanding caught on camera later and he was officially known as “Manhattan’s Spoiled Brat” to every major gossip rag and tabloid that could get their hands on information to print about him; true or otherwise.

From that point on, no matter what he actually did, Tony’s movements in the media were always framed with the perception of spoiled, outlandish, and in some circles, downright rude. It didn’t matter that before the paparazzi ambushed him outside of his apartment, he spent the morning setting up some private dog walking for the local shelter dogs. He couldn’t ever pull the trigger on actually adopting one – but he digressed. Those out for a story and a story only took their photos, heckled him, and reported half-truths and words taken out of context.

Despite the initial turmoil over it, Tony found himself with a lot more free time in the sanctity of the space he called his own. Other socialites didn’t want anything to do with him – the mere thought of being out papped drove them all mad. To avoid too much attention, Tony took his peer[s dismissal and ran with it – if a bad reputation got him the privacy that he sought, why wouldn’t he take advantage of it.

It all seemed to work out in his favor, because if his fellow socialite peers ever found themselves privy to his actual occupation, Tony knew he could count himself on the list of social outcasts that no one talked about – in fact, the few people he knew like that weren’t even spoken about in the circles he was forced to affiliate himself with. Being old money had so many advantages, but in the long term, Tony could have easily done without it.

Never one to care about the money, unless it was supposed to be caught on camera in some way shape or form, Tony enjoyed his solitude and the time he had to chase after his one true passion – pottery.

The addiction started halfway through his time at MIT. Desperate to escape the confines of his dorm and the information that didn’t interest him in the least, Tony found himself wandering the streets of Cambridge, his eyes wide and peeled for the bright shine of cameras being clicked. In his slow meanderings, Tony caught the sight of an interesting looking woman, the dreads in her hair and the big pot in her hands dragging him in. And when she felt his presence, instead of getting upset, she shot him a smile and slowed her step – the woman obviously not afraid of Tony’s attention.

He ended up walking half a mile a couple of steps behind the unnamed woman, the pot in her hands becoming more and more interesting the longer he got to look at it. The workmanship of it was obvious, the lines were neat and the dip of the pot perfectly symmetrical around the rim. Not for the first time, Tony marveled at the intense beauty of handmade work – he longed to work with his hands in the creation process. His father wanted him to put that energy into machines and technology that would further their wealth. Tony, on the other hand, he just wanted to create – no pressure, no expectation… just creation.

The building they stopped in front was all open space with big windows. Locking eyes with the woman, Tony rushed ahead of her and opened the door, holding it and his breath as she walked through the door. Upon entering, Tony noticed the multiple rows of what he knew to be pottery wheels, each one of them gleaming in the wash of sunlight that flowed in from the streets. Sucking in a breath, Tony had to stop himself from gravitating towards one.

A soft voice turned him around, his heart beating wildly – in the moments since walking in, Tony completely forgot the woman was there. “The dedication you showed in following me here is more than enough for me. Do you want to learn?” the still unnamed woman asked, her cheeks crinkling in the corner as a smile overtook his face.

It didn’t take but an extra second for the excited ‘yes’ to slip out of his mouth. He understood an opportunity when it was presented to him and didn’t want to squander it.

Without saying anything else, the woman walked by him, sat down at one of the wheels and looked expectantly at the one next to her.

From there, Tony found in himself natural talent and a burning desire to learn all he could about the craft. Despite having the means to buy his own wheel and supplies, Tony returned to Nona’s, the old woman insisting he call her nothing but. Over the course of the last two years of his undergraduate degree, Tony split his time between uninteresting studies and the maddening obsession of wet clay and the never-ending possibilities the potters wheel could bring.

The art brought him joy and when he graduated and Nona gifted him his very own wheel and her blessing of finally being ready, Tony took to it with a passion he never experienced before. No one in his circle would understand the desire to get his hands dirty or create something that could easily be bought at some auction, or fancy gallery opening. So, he kept it a secret – the thing he treasured most in the world was his and his alone.

That trend continued for many years after that. In order to keep up his expected persona, Tony put himself in the public’s eye a few times a year to cause a ruckus, whether it was with scandalous photos he manipulated himself, or a random appearance in a place he was supposedly blacklisted from. And between those times, Tony threw clay and created a whole line of masterpieces that culminated into a pretty popular business.

As his talent and the demand for his work grew, Tony let the smallest bit of pride settle deep within him. Despite not being satisfied with the way the world saw him, his most favorite piece of himself was flourishing – and on his own merit, nonetheless. Making something out of himself away from his father’s money meant so much and each step he took towards that brought him a peace he wasn’t sure would ever exist for him.

After almost 10 years of being in business, Dirty’s Pottery was finally unmanageable by himself – especially if Tony wanted to keep the anonymity of the business. No matter how much he didn’t want to bring in another person into the folds of his life, Tony knew he needed the help.

Which is why, when Peter Parker walked into his life, Tony was thrown so off guard. For most of the morning leading up to the interview, he felt a sliver of dread start to worm its way into the confines of his chest. Just seeing someone for a position like this took an amount of trust that Tony had not ever given to anyone – ever – in his entire life. The need for it was the only reason he forced himself to get his shit together and actually give the guy a chance at actually getting the job.

His entire attitude changed when he caught the glance of milk chocolate eyes that shone, well-kept facial hair, and a smile that so obviously hid a beautiful personality behind the lengths of it. In that moment, Tony wondered about so many things – where did this guy come from, how did he walk around in those pants without getting hit on with every step, and his favorite – what could he do to get this person to stick around. All of that without a single word being exchanged between them.

When Peter finally did start to speak, Tony couldn’t help but get lost in the interesting human sitting in the chair next to him. Instead of making it a formal affair, Tony poured them coffee and nestled into the remaining chair in the small office Tony kept slightly clear in his workshop. He went so far as to start the conversation with a question totally off the wall, which Peter answered with ease and kickstarted what turned out to be a couple hours’ worth of back and forth between the two of them.

It was obvious, in the way it took Peter a little while to open up to him, that his reputation proceeded him. Before Peter even walked in the door, he was looking at him a certain way – and Tony couldn’t wait to do everything in his power to prove that perception wrong. In true Tony Stark nature, Tony started by finishing their conversation out in the main room of the studio, his hands covered in red clay, the length of his hair pushed back with a bandana he’d taken to wearing over the last few months. The interested eyes that watched his hands with fascination brought a smile to his face and the job offer to the tip of his tongue.

“The job – it’s yours if you want. You’re smart, capable – the experience you came in with is amazing. I’d be pretty stupid to not snatch you up while I have the chance. But hear this now,” Tony said, his voice dipping. “If you fuck with me, I’ll ruin you. Understood?”

An awkward chuckle was his answer, Peter’s eyes flashing with some sort of feeling as he nodded his head. “Understood, Mr. Stark. This is a big opportunity for me – I wouldn’t screw that up for 5 minutes of media attention.”

And just like that, Tony was sold. He extended a clay covered hand out, a challenging quirk to his brow as he looked up, his own cognac colored eyes meeting Peter’s after a moment. “Cut the Mr. Stark shit, it’s just Tony.”

Grinning, Peter returned the handshake, his soft hand wrapping around Tony’s like it fit there, like if he let himself think about it, Tony could’ve sworn it’d been there his whole life. The contrast of wet clay and pale skin did something to him – something that, after 45 years of life, Tony couldn’t remember experiencing ever before.

----

It took a while, coaxing Peter from whatever picture he painted in his head about Tony and what he knew about him. The first few months together were tense – when they attempted their first staged photo for the public eye, Peter looked at him skeptically, as if the entire situation was crazy. Then, Tony stepped in front of the camera and pulled his mask on, his expression and demeanor changing to suit the air and attitude needed to portray the spoiled persona he’d been keeping up for years now.

The click of the camera was rapid, like the change in Tony was just as eerie for Peter as it was for the man himself. He turned and smiled and smoldered enough to make sure he had a few pictures to play with over the next few weeks, then dropped the whole act the second he could – Tony more than glad to be done with this part of his act until the next need for it came to be. Shrugging his shoulders and letting the conceded air rush from him, Tony shot Peter a smile – his assistant’s facial expression telling him much more than he needed to know.

“It is just an act, isn’t it? I’ve never seen someone put on another skin like that before,” Peter mumbled, his ears a little red from the blush that slowly spread down his cheeks with every word. His long fingers fiddled with the dial of the camera, brown eyes down casted in what Tony could only assume was apprehension or embarrassment.

“Everyone does it, Pete. Sometimes, it’s just more necessary than others. I had one little mishap and all of the sudden, I was painted as something that I’m not – something that I never will be. No matter what I did after that, things didn’t change. So, I use it to my advantage. Put a little chum in the water for the sharks every now and again and live my life the way I want it in between.” Tony shrugged then, his hands already working to take off the stupid jacket that pinched between his shoulders.

Peter was quiet for a few minutes, the two of them moving around each other in the slightly uncomfortable silence. “I’m just a kid from Queens. I couldn’t even imagine what that’s like. I probably would’ve taken the opportunity you did, too. It sucks you have to be someone different, but I get it.” A soft smile could be seen on his face, the look one of Peter’s that Tony quickly became enamored with – the shine of it hitting him in the gut, supplying him with his next bit of energy from all the goodness hidden within it.

Though it wasn’t monumental, things between them changed. While Peter used to come and go without much fanfare, Tony was surprised when he started to stick around a little longer after their work was done for today. Where the conversation could easily be described as stilted before, words started to flow between them easily – now that the damn was broken, it was like there was no stopping the conversations that could so easily exist.

And they did, flow easily. Peter graduated from Columbia with an Economics degree – a career field he quickly understood was not for him after two years in a job that he absolutely hated. The shared hatred for what they studied in college opened up the door for actual passions, ones in which Tony quickly came to find that Peter had many of. Including pottery, though he never did anything aside from buying it until coming to work for Tony.

“Your coffee cups are actually why I wanted this job,” Peter admitted out of the blue, the two of them settled on the soft couch in Tony’s living room after a long day of boxing and shipping orders. “When I first started college, I was dirt pour – living the dream, you know. I got the short end of the stick in housing and ended up having to find my own apartment. It was a shit hole, but I had a Dirty coffee mug to drink out of every day – so things couldn’t have been as glum as they really were. For some reason, I thought of that when I saw the ad – felt compelled to apply.”

Shifting a little, Tony let their shoulders brush – the physical contact between them also flourishing now that Peter didn’t think he was such a piece of shit. He leaned in, applying the slightest bit of pressure to the firm deltoid he felt through Peter’s shirt. “And now you get to drink out of them whenever you want,” Tony remarked, the joking tone of his voice pulling a smile from them both. “Never thought you’d run into me when you signed up for this gig, did you?”

“I didn’t. Honestly, when I saw it was you, I almost turned around and walked right out the door. If it wasn’t for the way you look sitting behind the potters wheel, I might’ve done exactly that.”

A chuckle fell from Tony’s lips, the tightness in his chest that’d been building up from that first day finally loosening, whatever happened in the minutes between stepping in front of the camera and that moment obviously winning him a bit of favor.

“I do look good behind the wheel, don’t I?” Tony answered, a shit eating grin on his face.

Peter reached over, swatting his thigh in joking exasperation. “Shut up.”

That exchange stayed with him after that, a subtle reminder of the distance between them narrowing. Tony didn’t even know if Peter liked anything about him other than the way he looked, or the way his mugs held coffee – but a small bit of hope sat in his chest, regardless. Things were so different now, all smiles and laughing, inside jokes between the two of them that didn’t cease to be funny, no matter how many times they stopped dead in their tracks to deal with the chuckling fits that spontaneously occurred at the thought of any of them. It had to mean something, even if it wasn’t the sort of intensity that Tony wanted.

Like most things in his life, Tony got his answer in the form of a shout, or at least, the closest a kiss could come to the form. About a year and a half into their working relationship, Peter was finally comfortable, so comfortable in fact, he allowed himself to fall asleep in the many different spaces he’d been invited into in Tony’s home and workshop. That particular day, Tony walked into his office to find Peter passed the fuck out, a cute string of drool lulling from the side of his mouth. His eyes were moving behind his eyelids, hands clenching by his sides.

For a second, Tony thought to wake him up, what he thought was distress making him want to take care of Peter in the only way he knew how. Resisting, Tony walked around his office quietly, grabbing his smock and the most recent designs before trying his best to sneak past Peter without waking the sleeping beauty up. He was about to step away from the edge of the couch when a hand shot out, grabbing his wrist.

“Pete, what – “ Tony started to exclaim, his body falling towards Peter stopping the rest of the words from coming out of his mouth. Without being able to suck in another pull of breath, Tony’s lips were covered, all of Peter pressing fully against him, lips and obviously interested cock, included. Waiting for the other shoe to drop, Tony kept himself still, the need to flatten Peter out and press into the contact so close to winning out, despite knowing it probably wasn’t his best course of action.

A gasp of breath against his lips alerted Tony to Peter’s conscious state, the man pulling back from him in the next second.

“Tony?” Peter gasped; the words still tinged with sleep. “Is this real? I was just dreaming – “ He stopped then, realization of what he just said grinding everything else to a halt. “Oh god.”

Putting a finger across Peter’s lips to stop any other words from spilling out, Tony leaned back into his space, their faces mere inches away from each other. “I dream about it, too.” Tony mumbled as he closed the distance and pressed their lips together – this kiss one they were both conscious and aware of.

The fingers slipping into his hair were the only sign that he needed. In a desperate attempt to get more skin right in that very moment, Tony climbed onto the couch, his knees pressing into the cushions bracketing Peter’s hips. His own hands moved to grasp whatever skin he could reach, Peter’s nap on the couch affording him stomach and back from a ridden-up shirt.

Plush lips were such a distraction, the thickness of Peter’s bottom lip ridding him of any thought other than right that second and skin and more kisses that felt like straight heat touching him. Peter’s fingers dug into his scalp, blunt nails cutting into the skin in the most tantalizing way possible.

An annoying need for oxygen pulled them apart, Tony panting into the skin of Peter’s neck as he continued to explore the long planes of skin there. If this dream haze was the only way he got what he’d been wanting since he first laid eyes on Peter, Tony would take it – simply because he never let himself and he really, really, really wanted this; wanted Peter.

Hands on the side of his face stopped his assault, Tony pulling  away with so much reluctance – his entire being shouting against the disparity of the action. Peter brushed their noses together, his fingers caressing Tony’s face, cupping behind his ears – each digit moving restlessly.

“I want you,” Peter said plainly, the seconds of silent stares and heavily panted breaths already forgotten – the words already enough to change the way the world tipped on its axis. “I want you. Have wanted you for so long. Please, Tony – “

Whatever was going to come next, Tony cut him off – their lips sealing back together now that they were both on the same page, both ready for the next step – both wanting each other.

Not in any frame of mind to do anything other than kiss, be kissed, and pull at clothes in hopes that they came off, Tony did just that – his fingers slipped under the soft t-shirt covering Peter’s chest, the pads of them tracing the smooth skin of rippling abs, and the slightest bit of chest hair just starting to coat over trim pecs. He pushed the shirt up until it rested under Peter’s arms, his brain unwilling to allow him to pull away from their kiss to actually take it off.

Peter, like he did so well over the past few months, took the matter into his own hands. He pulled away from Tony to yank his shirt up and over his head, eager fingers doing the same to Tony’s once he got the memo and shifted so Peter was able. Soft hands found the thick patch of hair covering his upper chest and the straight path down his abdominals that trailed down into the confines of his now too-tight boxer briefs. The touch was like electricity, each inch of perusal like a shock rolling across the surface of his skin.

Moaning, Tony let his hips drop, the bulge in his pants pressingly deliciously against Peter’s erection, the slide of his jeans against his passion both tantalizing and harsh – the perfect combination. In an attempt to gain more friction and a better position, Tony climbed off of Peter’s thighs, slotting himself between muscled legs, instead. Instantly, Peter wrapped his thighs around Tony’s hips, using his strength and leverage to pull him close, closer than either ever thought they would ever get.

The next few minutes were a flurry of kisses against bare skin and hands wandering all the inches they could – Tony focusing on the softest little swell of Peter’s stomach, the roundness of it only enhancing the strength the rest of him portrayed. They fumbled and thrust, erections grinding through several layers of jean and fine clothed underwear. It was glorious and not enough all in one breath. Tony forced himself to create space between them in hopes of furthering things along, his shaky hands making quick work of Peter’s pants and then his own.

Completely naked in front of him, Tony was surprised to not feel a single shred of self-consciousness. In all of his imaginings, he thought he might curl in on himself – there weren’t many people that knew the real him; baring himself this way to Peter, Tony no longer had the pleasure of anonymity, the barrier of protective shell he tried to keep with him at all times. A grinning Peter brought him away from those thoughts, his own lips turning up in a smoldering smirk.

“Reach behind you – I think there’s something in the side table we can use for lube.”

The words came out panted, like Tony needed every shred of oxygen in his body to deliver them, yet, he couldn’t bring himself to be embarrassed – Peter fumbled over himself to get to the drawer, his upper body twisting to reach, despite Tony pinning his legs down into the cushions of the couch below them. A sound of triumph left them both when Peter righted himself, a small bottle of lube in his grasp.

“Any reason why you have lube in your workshop office?” Peter asked through a chuckle, his hands already moving to grip Tony’s bare skin, the lube sitting on his stomach in offering.

Ignoring the question for the moment, Tony reached up to grab the bottle, his lips busy tracing the lines of Peter’s abs until he found himself face to face with a delectable erection, the tip of it glistening with the tangible exertions of their efforts. He brought his eyes up to glance at Peter, the usual honey-hazel completely overtaken by black pupil and want – so much want.

His tongue peaked out to sop up the leaky moisture, Tony letting a moan slip from his lips before redoubling his efforts, his lips wrapping around Peter tightly. It was erotic, bobbing up and down on the most beautiful erection while maintaining such intense eye contact. The state of Peter’s eyes matched his own, the glassy nature of them making his own cock throb – the smear of precum he felt himself thrusting into a tell-tale sign of what this did to him; what Peter could so easily drag from him.

“Jerking off, of course,” Tony finally answered, his lips pulling away from Peter’s cock with a loud pop that echoed around the small office. “I practically lived here before you came to my rescue. I’m not a saint.”

To emphasize the point, Tony snapped open the cap of the lube, his eyes flashing as that sound too seemed to bounce off the walls. A weak moan left his lips when he turned the tube over to dump a good amount of lube over his fingers, the implication of what came next and the frigid cold of the lube doing something to him. Peter grinned up at him, his hips rolling up in the most obvious form of permission.

Taking Peter’s cock back into his mouth, Tony let two of his fingers slip between the crease of firm butt cheeks, the tip of one tracing a tight rim. With the thought of distraction, Tony sucked hard and pressed his finger in, breaching the muscle with a kind of ease that had him moaning around the thick cock in his mouth. The boil of heat and arousal felt like it was consuming him – he’d feel lucky if he actually got to the point of slipping inside Peter without completely embarrassing himself.

Long fingers dug into thick, salt and pepper locks, Peter’s grip tight and flexing rhythmically with the bob and pull of his mouth around the most luscious erection. Slowly, Tony opened Peter up, his fingers working in tandem with his cleverly talented mouth. Little by little, he felt the muscle around his fingers relax, Peter easily able to take three fingers after his careful ministrations.

The grip in his hair tightened, forcing Tony to look up to gauge the situation. The sight he was met with caused his cock to throb again, the tip now completely covered with pre-cum and weepy, each second passing filling out the appendage more and more, Tony feeling so fucking close to burning already.

Peter’s pupils were completely blown, the glassy nature of them from before overtaken by a sort of heat that Tony didn’t know existed. His hair was in disarray, the obvious toss of it back and forth showing in the tangled strands. Sweat covered him, the tiny drops on Peter’s forehead the only indication that he too was physically straining himself, desperately trying to hold himself off.

“Fuck me, Tony. I need it – need you,” Peter gasped out, his fingers tightening in Tony’s hair even more. “Please.”

Not one to deny himself or those he cared about, Tony pulled himself up and away, Peter’s pulsing erection slapping against his chin for the effort.  A laugh left his lips as he sat up completely, nervous hands moving to grab the lube. The snick of the cap opening made them both jump, each man completely wound up and ready to go off at any moment. Dumping a generous amount of lube onto his cock, Tony reached down to spread it, smearing the last little bit of it around Peter’s entrance – the thought of the sticky-slick slide pushing him into position faster than he thought imaginable.

Nudging Peter’s thighs, Tony settled further between them, the muscles there clenching with the subtle pressure of a cock head against the relaxed rim; the feeling jolting them both. He sucked in a quick breath, his chest expanding with the long pull of air. Breathing back out, Tony pressed forward, thrusting his hips without hesitation until they were pressed soundly together, Tony’s pelvis to the warm flesh of Peter’s ass.

“Oh, fuck –“ Tony babbled, his head hanging between his shoulders as he held himself above Peter, giving them both a moment to adjust to the heat and tightness – the overall feeling of their connection blazing up between them.

Peter’s answer came in the form of a swift clench of muscle around Tony’s cock, the heat of it all burning any ounce of self-control Tony might’ve had. His hips snapped forward, the sound of skin slapping against skin pulling a groan from the depth of his chest. If this was what just being wrapped up in Peter felt like, Tony couldn’t even begin to fathom what the end result of their joining would be like.

A little bit desperate, Tony dropped down until their chests were pressed together, hands moving to urge Peter to wrap his thighs a little higher up his chest to better the angle. With that done, he nestled his face into the side of Peter’s neck and let go.

Every thrust was accompanied by the sweetest sounds, both men contributing to the groundbreaking symphony of passion and connection. The slap of skin on skin and breathy moans were the only thing that could be heard around the room, each crescendo of sound driving Tony that much closer to the edge he never wanted to reach – staying there, in that moment, it would’ve been the best thing in the world.

Yet, he found himself chasing the feeling of jumping over the peak, anyway. Peter was clamping down around him hard, the constant press of Tony’s dick against his prostate creeping him towards the edge – the man’s cock was slick between them, each thrust pulling yet another pulse of pre-cum from the tip to guide the way. Their stomachs provided the friction to Peter’s cock that Tony couldn’t, his attention completely consumed by thrusts and sweat and the heat surrounding him.

With his orgasm impending, Tony picked up his pace, the rhythmic strokes from before completely gone, replaced with an animalistic push and pull that was quickly driving him towards completion. He didn’t want to reach it until Peter did, however; the clench of muscles around his touch sensitive cock a good indicator of how close Peter was, too.

After another few hard thrusts, Peter wailed, his hand slipping into Tony’s hair to pull at the locks.

“I’m gonna cum – oh god, Tony!”

Holding on just long enough to see the look of pure ecstasy on Peter’s face, Tony thrusted once, twice, three times before letting himself go – his orgasm washing over him deliciously, the feel of it like passing out and coming to all in one shot.

Tony felt his arms give way, his body crashing heavily into Peter’s. They were covered in sweat and semen, both physically exerting their bodies to the point of exhaustion, but completely sated, nonetheless. Pressing a kiss to Peter’s neck, Tony let himself relax, not giving two shits about the sweaty stickiness between them.

“We should have been doing that for ages now,” Peter whispered, his voice deep and wrecked sounding, a sort of pleasure radiating from him as the words left his lips.

Chuckling softly, Tony wrapped Peter up, his arms squeezing him tightly to his chest, the two of them settling into the gentle comfort surrounding them in that moment.

“Well, you’re definitely not getting rid of me, now.”

----

Loosening the reins on the idea of his public image got a little easier the longer Tony spent in Peter’s arms. Without much to rely on in the personal life Tony cultivated throughout his existence, his image was really the only thing he had. Even if that image was one that wasn’t the best – at least the world knew something of him. Yet, the closer he got to Peter and the effortlessness of their relationship, the less he cared about what people thought of him – of his sassy, diva, socialite attitude that he’d been cultivating for so long.

Instead, Tony felt the need to let little pieces of himself shine through as the months past. It became clear that being his genuine self was important to Peter – the man seemed to like all the pieces of him and wanted the world to see him in all of his glory.

It’d been too long for him to completely pour his public persona completely down the drain – there were too many people that came to expect a certain sort of thing from him. And he wasn’t anywhere close to being comfortable with a public reveal of his face in conjunction with his pottery business, but – they were slowly making progress.

Several months after finally coming together as a couple, Tony and Peter were back where things started to change for them – Peter behind the camera, watching as Tony put on his mask to face the public. This time, they were camped in front of a sleek, all black motorcycle – the bike one of Tony’s most recent glutinous purchases (he happened upon it a week or two after Peter mentioned how sexy he thought it would be, Tony on the back of a bike like that). Tony let Peter pick out the outfit he was sporting, the straight black pants and stiff collared jacket one of his absolute favorites.

After several of these over their time together, Tony understood Peter’s feelings on the smolder he let free when posing for these types of photos – there was a love-hate relationship with the particular faces he made throughout the process. On one hand, Peter hated the reason for the false look – pleasing people was never something he became accustomed to, even after spending so much time with Tony. On the other hand, Tony knew that Peter found it irresistible – the fact that he could kiss it off of him now only adding to that feeling.

Peter let it go on for a while – they shot several different poses in, on, and around the bike. Directing him from behind the camera, Peter made comments here and there, most of the time allowing Tony to do what he wanted. When his limit was reached, Tony found himself slapped across the face with a rubber duck, the toy hitting him before he could even see it coming.

“I can’t take that look anymore. I want to pull you off that bike and ravage you. But I can’t – because we’re in public.”

Peter’s eye caught his, the truth of his words existing in the small space between them. Grinning, Tony let the rubber duck rest against his thigh, a smirk slipping across his lips. He heard a series of clicks before Peter was staring him down again, a mix between lust and hilarity playing across his face.

Later, when he downloaded the pictures, Tony couldn’t stop the big bust of laughter that fell from his lips, a huge smile slipping across his cheeks. He quickly opened up the one he would post and did the customary touch ups in Photoshop before sending it to himself, anticipation and excitement sitting in his chest at his most recent idea. Tony didn’t hesitate, bringing up Instagram and posting the photo without a second thought.

The thunk of a phone hitting the ground in the other room, followed by fast footsteps coming his way was the clear sign that Peter saw the picture – his boyfriend appearing in the doorway of their room a moment later with the most affectionate look on his face making Tony feel like he was about to burst open at the seams.

“All of those pictures and that’s the one you post?” Peter questioned, his long legs carrying him over until he was inches from Tony. “That rubber duck can’t be all that good for your image.”

Reaching out, Tony pulled Peter until they were chest to chest, his boyfriend’s arms wrapping around his shoulders to narrow the space down even further. “Someone told me it needed a change,” Tony mumbled, his words somewhat muffled by the press of his lips against Peter’s as he spoke. “Thought it might be a step in the right direction.”

Peter’s answer came in the form of a desperate kiss, their tongues and teeth clashing in the best of ways. “I love you, you fucking dork.”

Pressing back in for another kiss, Tony let himself revel in the feeling taking him over in that moment. After so long, it felt good to take the tiniest step out of the closet – there were many more to take, but at least he knew the effort was appreciated. He let himself stay lost in the kiss for a while, the desperate caress of soft lips and eager hands the only thing that really mattered.

[adenei]

Finding My Way To You - Ch. 11

AO3 || FFN

A/N: In case something looks familiar to you, yes this does include the Day 8 prompt in this chapter with a few slight alterations to fit the rest of the chapter more accurately.

**************

New Endeavors

Ron woke up the following morning to Hermione’s alarm going off. He reached over to her in an attempt to coerce her into having a longer lie-in, but he pulled back when he heard her squeal.

“No, no, no, no, I’m late! This is not good!” she said frantically. She jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom. 

As much as he didn’t want to see her get moving, he could certainly get used to the sight of her walking around in just her knickers and one of his shirts. Ron closed his eyes as he heard the shower turn on and replayed the night before. After they had cleared the air and spent the rest of the afternoon exploring their new relationship, they’d gone to dinner with her parents. 

Hermione had suggested she spend the day with them today, and Ron was fine with it. He knew it was important to her to reconnect, and some of that needed to be done with just the three of them. So that’s where Hermione was getting ready to head now. He heard the door open and Hermione came out wrapped only in a towel.

“I forgot to grab clothes,” she said in frustration with herself. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“Not if you keep walking around in just a towel, I won’t be,” Ron said. “Are you sure you can’t come back here for a little bit?” He knew she was referring to her leaving him alone all day, but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to try and get a little extra time with her first.

Hermione had gathered her outfit in her arms and turned around to give him a look. “I’d love to, but I’m already late. And we both know if I crawl back in bed, I may not have the resolve to get up again.” She walked back into the bathroom. “What are you going to do all day?”

“I dunno. I’ll think of something. Don’t worry about me. Have fun with your parents.”

Hermione came out of the bathroom again and walked over to the edge of the bed. “I just feel bad.”

Ron sat up and swung his legs over the side to meet her. “Don’t. You need this time with them. That’s why we came. I’ll find something to do, and I’ll see you later tonight. Just...keep me updated, okay?” Slight worry etched across his face. He knew he was on good terms with her parents, but he still worried that she might not return. 

She must have noticed his concern because she leaned over and kissed him. “I will. I’ll see you tonight.” Ron nodded as he watched her grab her bag and head out the door. He laid in bed a while longer before finally getting up.

After getting ready for the day and finishing his breakfast, Ron made his way to to look through some of the brochures from the Australian Ministry. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the phone on the wall ring. At first he wasn’t sure what to do. It wasn’t like he answered telephones often. He reminded himself not to shout into the receiver like that awful attempt at calling Harry when he was younger.

He picked up the phone and said, “Hello?”

“Hello, Ron? Is that you? This is Graham. Graham Jacobsen. I showed you to your flat when you first arrived.”

Ron had honestly completely forgotten all about the man. Now that he thought about it, they probably should have updated the Australian Ministry days ago. “Er, yes, hi. Is everything alright?” Ron asked.

“Yes, yes, of course! I’m just checking in to see how your search has been going and if you need any assistance!”

“It’s been great, actually. We’ve managed to locate Hermione’s parents, fairly quickly actually, and she’s been spending the last few days getting reacquainted with them.”

“Excellent, excellent! So the resources the Ministry sent over with the muggle teeth cleaners and addresses of Wilkin’s in the surrounding area were no doubt helpful, then?”

“Er, yeah,” Ron said. He wasn’t about to tell Graham that they’d actually stumbled upon Jean and Hugo by accident.

“Great. So anyways, like I said, I was asked to get an update. Since you’ve located them, we were wondering how much longer you were anticipating to stay.”

“I’m not sure. I can talk to Hermione and see if we can get a clearer answer for you tomorrow or the day after if that’s okay.”

“Yes, sure! No rush. It will just help to have an idea to prepare your portkey trip back. Let’s see, let’s see, oh yes! One more thing. You received a letter here from England through the Portkey Post. Wouldn’t want to make owls travel all this way. If you’re available, you can come pick it up at the Ministry anytime.”

A letter? Is everything alright back home? “Sure, yeah, I can actually be down there in fifteen minutes.”

“Excellent, I’ll meet you in the entrance hall. See you in a jif!” Graham said before hanging up.

Ron hung up the phone and immediately began moving around the apartment to grab his things. He figured he could spend a few hours walking around and seeing what else Melbourne had to offer from the magical side of things. Before he knew it, he was apparating to the spot Graham showed them almost a week ago, and walked the short distance to the Ministry entrance.

He had barely stepped a few paces inside when he saw Graham waving frantically. “Ron! Over here!” They met in the middle as Graham said, “So good to see you again! I hope you’ve been enjoying your stay here so far.”

“Yeah, it’s been great,” Ron agreed.

“Here’s the letter that came for you. If you want to send a response, we send our international post out at 13:00 every day. The drop box is over here.”

Ron followed him over to the box that had a small slot in it. He was curious how this system worked. Whether it was his lack of knowledge about other cultures and customs or not, he always assumed the owls just traveled the distance to their destination. Though, for a continent like Australia that was so far away from other places, he supposed this system made sense. It’d be hard for an owl to travel over an ocean with no resting points.

“Thanks.” 

“Absolutely. Well, I must be getting back to my obligations. Like I said, feel free to call if you ever need anything. Just press 9 on your dial pad and it will transfer your call to my office. A little magical touch so you don’t have to memorize a ten digit number. I look forward to hearing from you!”

Graham shook Ron’s hand before walking away. Ron looked at the letter in his hand. He didn’t want to return to the flat just to read it, so he decided to walk around a bit to find a place to sit and read what it said. There was a small park a few blocks away that Ron stumbled upon. He chose one of the vacant benches and sat down. The handwriting looked like Harry’s.

Hey Ron,

I hope you and Hermione are having luck finding her parents. It’s odd here without you two, but I’ve been keeping busy. Listen, I’m not trying to rush the process, but I wanted you to know that I met with Kingsley yesterday, and he said they’re looking for recruits in the Auror program. The other letter that I sent with this is from him. He’s inviting us into the program if we want. I think I’m going to go for it. We have to complete the screening process by the end of the month, so I’m hoping you’ll be back by then to start with me if that’s what you want to do. By the way, are you and Hermione sorted yet? Ginny wants to know. Well, anyways, let me know when you decide. 

Harry

Ron reread Harry’s letter a few times before pulling out the second piece of parchment that he now knew to be from Kingsley. Was this actually an invitation to join the Aurors? Would he be able to achieve his dream? Did he still want to pursue that dream? He slowly peeled off the wax seal and unfolded the official Ministry parchment.

Mr. Weasley,

I hope this finds you well and that you are having success on your current mission. I am reaching out to you to personally invite you to join the Aurors. As you know, we are woefully understaffed as a result of the war, and your integral efforts make you a prime candidate for the program. Typically, the training period is an extensive three years, but given your experiences, you will have an opportunity to pass out of the training program after a year, and be promoted to Junior Auror status. 

I understand that you are predisposed on a mission, but this offer is time sensitive. The Auror department has agreed to honor this offer for select people, yourself included, but they are requiring all candidates to begin on 3 August. Paperwork and a screening, however, must be completed by 1 July. I have attached the preliminary paperwork for you to set up your appointments with the Ministry, and they will be in touch should you be interested in pursuing this avenue. 

Please take the time to think about this, but do not wait too long to reply. The Aurors will be lucky to have someone with your skillset in the department. Best of luck on your continued search. All my best,

Kingsley

Ron’s hands were shaking slightly at the letter. He had a personal invitation from the Minister of Magic to join the Aurors. His finger followed the application that he looked over. It seemed straightforward enough, and the prospect was certainly appealing. He knew deep down that he absolutely wanted to try, but something was preventing him from returning to the Australian Ministry to fill out the paperwork and send it back that same day. 

Ron thought it through to make sure he’d have enough time to discuss with Hermione first. He reviewed the application, and it said he could return his paperwork from Australia, and it said that he could request a timeframe for his appointment. That was good. Maybe he could return next week, but his heart wrenched at the thought of having to leave Hermione here. Ron folded the contents of the two letters and tucked them in his jacket pocket for safekeeping. 

He looked around the park, thinking about what to do next. It was a beautiful, crisp day, just like every other day had been since they’d arrived, even if it was colder. He smiled, thinking Hermione would be cold, but he was perfectly comfortable. The weather here differed so greatly from the weather in England, and Ron was slightly envious of how nice it seemed to be year round.

He finally decided to walk around. This part of Melbourne wasn’t as familiar to him, but Ron figured he could always apparate back to the flat if need be. A smile spread across his lips as he stood up and began walking back towards the Ministry. He’d gone from not knowing what life had in store for him now that the war was over to having a career prospect. Nothing could break his mood as he looked around at the places to explore. 

About an hour later, Ron found himself wandering aimlessly around Melbourne’s streets. He’d gone in several of the shops that interested him along the way, and had just finished up a light meal he’d gotten at a cafe. The food was great, and he wished Hermione had been there to. He told her he was fine with today’s plan, but he still missed her. They’d been spending so much time together that it felt odd to be apart from her, even if it was just for the day. Even when her mum had whisked her away to shop, he still knew exactly when he’d see her next.

As he made his way down another new street, Ron stopped outside the window of a unique looking jewelry shop. He knew it was still early in their relationship, but he walked inside anyways to see what the display cases held. Most everything would probably be out of his price range, but maybe he’d gather an idea or two for Hermione.

“Good afternoon,” a bright and energetic salesperson said to him.

“Hello,” Ron said.

“Is there anything I can help you find today?”

“Oh, er, not really. Just looking,” his ears turned red. 

“Not a problem at all! I’ll be around if you need anything,” she smiled and went back to her work.

As he walked around slowly, browsing the selection, he was appreciative that there seemed to be a wide variety of items and price ranges. Ron avoided the section with the rings. It was way too early for that, and he didn’t want to get his hopes up with wishful thinking. So, he found his way over to the earrings, which he was pretty sure she never wore often, though he was certain her ears were pierced, and then the necklaces. He shuddered at the recollection of Lavender giving him that horrifying ‘sweetheart locket’ back in sixth year, and swore to himself that he wouldn’t get anything like that for Hermione. 

Once he’d finished circling the perimeter of glass cases, he moved to the center displays, which appeared to be bracelets. There was a small display among them that had a variety of blank bracelets and little pieces scattered all around. 

Ron looked around and caught the salesperson’s attention. “Find something I can help you with?”

“Er, yes. What are these?” Ron asked her.

“Oh! Great question. These are charm bracelets! Are you familiar with them?” she asked kindly.

“No, not really,” Ron admitted.

“No matter! You see, you pick out a bracelet first, though I’m sure you would have gathered that, and then you have all of these amazing charms to choose from. We have hundreds of them on this display for you to choose from.”

“So, the charms are like symbols, then?” Ron asked for clarification.

“Precisely! They are becoming increasingly popular.”

Ron nodded as an idea was forming in his mind. He was unable to get anything for Hermione’s last birthday, and Christmas for that matter. Maybe this could be the way to make it up to her. “How much?”

“The bracelets are 50 dollars, and then the charms range anywhere between 15 and 50 depending on what you’re looking for.”

Ron thought about what the salesperson said as he felt the wallet in his pocket. Bill and George had both given him money before he’d left. He was determined not to use it unless he had to, since he felt guilty that he was taking it to begin with. Maybe he’d splurge a bit, and when they got back to England, he’d take up a part-time job at the shop with George in order to pay him back, and then earn a little spending money of his own.

In truth, he was about to use it to pay for their posh dinner the other night, but Hermione had insisted she use her parent’s card. He’d need to make it up to them, too, at some point. Focus, Ron. Okay, I could get her the bracelet, and a few charms. No more than five. He knew if he didn’t set a limit, he’d blow all his money on this one gift.

“Okay, I’d like the silver bracelet, I think. Is there a list of charms, or will I need to look through all these individually?” Not that he minded, since he had nowhere else to be today.

“We have a list right here!” There was a stack of laminated papers that she grabbed one from and handed to him. “When you’ve decided what you’d like, I can take them out for you and we can put them on the bracelet at the register.”

“Great, thanks!” Ron said as he began to work his way through the list. 

She wasn’t kidding when she said there were hundreds. They were broken down into categories on the double sided sheet. He knew he definitely wanted to get her the book charm. That was without a doubt. He saw that there was also a heart with roses engraved in it. It looked fancier than the other charms, but he figured he could splurge a bit on it since it held a special meaning for them both. 

As his eyes skimmed the list he noticed an assortment of animals. I wonder…, he thought. He saw there was definitely a dog, which he wasn’t surprised by, but he was even more pleased to see that there was an otter charm! “Well, they are quite cute,” he muttered to himself. 

Four charms down, one more. He initially looked for an elf, but didn’t have any luck there. He wasn’t surprised, and he worried that even if he saw one, it’d be one of those Christmas looking ones. Giving up on that, Ron ended up finding a seashell charm which instantly brought him back to Shell Cottage. That was no doubt the turning point in their relationship, and it also represented the place where Dobby was buried. It could definitely serve a double meaning, for sure.

He brought the paper up to the counter and told the kind salesperson his choices, watching as she bustled around to collect everything. She rang the items up, and Ron pulled out his wallet to pay for the items. He carefully tucked the receipt away so he could keep track of his purchases.

“Would you like this wrapped up in a gift bag?” she asked him.

“Yes, please,” he said, glad to have her assistance.

He asked if the charms could be arranged the following way on the bracelet: book, otter, terrier, seashell, and heart. It represented the chronological order of the charm’s meanings to their relationship. The salesperson finished wrapping up the bracelet and handed him the gift bag when she was finished. “Thank you so much for your business, and best of luck. I’m sure your special someone is going to love this!”

“Thanks for your help,” Ron said as he exited the shop.

He figured he should probably head back before he spent any more money that day. Ron could watch the telly, and there was enough food for him to make something at the flat. There was an alley nearby that he decided to turn into, so he could apparate back to the flat. Better to be safe than sorry, since he really had no idea where he was. He turned on the spot and appeared at the apparition point nearby. He approached the building, typed in the code and let himself into the foyer. 

When he made it up the stairs, he unlocked the door and walked into the main living area, just as a silvery ball floated toward him. At first, his heart constricted and he immediately became on edge. He was even more worried for Hermione’s safety when the ball transformed into Hermione’s otter patronus.

A moment later he could hear Hermione’s nervous voice. “Hi! I hope this works. It’s the first time I’ve tried to send a patronus message. Anyways, I’m having dinner with my parents and will be back after. Most likely between seven and eight. I hope you don’t mind. See you soon.” 

The silver otter pranced over to him and moved in a figure eight pattern around his legs before nuzzling him and disappearing into a wisp. Ron couldn’t help but smile with pride. Hermione was okay, and she’d produced her first corporeal patronus complete with a message. He checked his watch as he set the bag down on the table. Only a few hours until he could see her again.

[complexgods-backup]

Isn’t It Cliché? Chapter 1

Ship: DaiSuga (Haikyuu!!)

Summary: “Suga almost dropped the pen he was holding as he saw what was probably the most handsome man he has ever seen enter the Starbucks. He looked extremely tired, and Suga wondered if he was hungover. He had short brown hair and gorgeous brown eyes, and Suga couldn’t help but notice his biceps straining the fabric of his shirt as he took off his coat. Quickly pushing away any impure thoughts, Suga put on his best employee smile as he took his order.”

Sugawara Koushi moves to Tokyo with a broken heart and a desire to start over and falls for a handsome stranger that frequents the coffee shop he works at. Unfortunately, it’s harder for Suga to get him to open up than he thought. It’s all pretty cliché.

Word Count: 2418 

Beta-read by: @mesreves

Warnings: None

A/N: This fic has become somewhat of a passion project of mine, I hope you enjoy it! I already posted 5 chapters on ao3, so feel free to read the rest (and all the tags) on there! I will try and post the chapters as regularly as uni will let me! The fic is under the cut :) 

“Fuck, I’m already late,” Sugawara groaned as he finally awoke with his third alarm. It was his first day at his new job and he really needed the money, so being late was not an option and it was already 7:32 am. He dressed in a hurry, popping some toast into the toaster as he gathered all his things. He ran outside his apartment with one shoe still untied, his coat barely over his shoulders, and the piece of toast in his mouth. I can’t get any more cliché , Sugawara thought to himself as he ran down the stairs to run to the subway. Thankfully, there was a subway stop right by his apartment building and he lived only a few stops away from the Starbucks he got hired at.

As he stepped outside, the crisp autumn air hit his face and he instantly lifted his head to smell the fresh air. Autumn was his favourite season, mainly because the world turned golden brown for a few weeks and the sunsets were phenomenal. He couldn’t wait to explore the new city he moved to and watch the sunset from all around the city. He pushed the thought aside as he swallowed the last piece of toast and walked into the station, focussed on finding the right platform. He constantly checked his phone to see which stop he needed to get out at, still unsure about his orientation skills in Tokyo. Even though he visited the city multiple times as a kid, he knew that getting lost was inevitable. He watched the sun rise higher over the city as the subway continued on its journey, cramped full of people going to their 9 to 5. When his stop came up, he pushed himself out of the cart, cursing himself that he was so far back. He hated inconveniencing people.

Despite all the hassle, he managed to be in front of the Starbucks ten minutes early, signaling to his coworker already inside that he was there. Once the manager gave him his apron, she left Sugawara’s coworker to show him the ropes. Although he had already been employed at a Starbucks before, it was protocol to explain how everything worked, so he listened diligently to his coworker, who was called Yamaguchi Tadashi.

“It’s the busiest right before 9 am and after 4 pm, so you’ll be with at least two other people then. Our other colleague will be here any minute, but you’ll only take orders and work at the cash register today. That sound good?” Suga nodded, impressed at how the other took charge. When he first met him after his interview, he seemed so shy and insecure, but he was clearly in his element. Despite Sugawara being two years Yamaguchi’s elder, he did not dare speak informally to him yet, quite frankly intimidated by his authority. As soon as Yamaguchi seemed pleased with Sugawara’s work, a gorgeous woman, no older than Sugawara, walked in, and he couldn’t help but blush a little bit as she turned to him and wished him a good morning.

“I’m Kiyoko Shimizu, I’m the shift manager and I’ll be working the orders with Tadashi today, it’s nice to meet you.” She gave a shy smile and he nodded at her.

“Nice to meet you, Kiyoko-san! I’m Sugawara Koushi, but you can call me Suga.” He flashed her a smile to emphasize how happy he was to meet her.

“Oh no need for the honorifics, we’re all the same age group and I’m not a big fan of formalities. Just call me Kiyoko!” Suga smiled and nodded as she walked to the back of the store to put down her things and get her apron.

Yamaguchi didn’t lie when he said that most people come through before 9 am, as the shop got extremely busy within minutes. Most of the time, the orders were pretty simple and Suga’s endless patience seemed to serve him well. He didn’t mind taking up orders, knowing that making all those complicated drinks were oftentimes less fun to make, especially if it was busy. But Yamaguchi and Kiyoko seemed to know each other extremely well, making their work ethic impeccable.

Suga didn’t even notice how fast the time went by, and when he next looked at the clock that adorned the wall opposite the till he saw it was already 10h30am. The shop was quieter now that most people got their morning coffee before work, and the three could have short conversations between customers.

“So what do you study?” Kiyoko asked, biting down on a cinnamon roll a customer decided they didn’t want after Yamaguchi had already warmed it up.

“I’m in my second year of Japanese Studies and Elementary Education. I transferred here this year because my old uni was not a good fit for me. What about you?” He asked his peers, who in turn said what they studied. Yamaguchi was an engineering major and Kiyoko was in her last Bachelor's year of studying History of Art. They were interrupted as a customer opened the door. Suga almost dropped the pen he was holding as he saw what was probably the most handsome man he has ever seen enter the Starbucks. He looked extremely tired, and Suga wondered if he was hungover. He had short brown hair and gorgeous brown eyes, and Suga couldn’t help but notice his biceps straining the fabric of his shirt as he took off his coat. Quickly pushing away any impure thoughts, Suga put on his best employee smile as he took his order. He tried his best to hide the blush that slowly crept over his cheeks as he heard how gruff the man’s voice sounded.

“I’ll have a caramel frappuccino with three extra pumps of caramel syrup and an extra shot of espresso.” The man said, which surprised Suga for some reason. He didn’t expect the man to have such a sweet drink but he refused to let the shock show on his face as he asked for the customer’s name to write on the cup.

“Sawamura.” He gruffed, barely looking up at the barista. Suga figured he was too hungover and/or tired so he didn’t think much of it as he wrote his name on the cup with a little smiley face next to it, handing Kiyoko the cup. When his order was done, he sat down where he put his coat and immediately plugged his headphones into his phone, and started typing on his laptop.

“He most definitely forgot an assignment he was supposed to write during break.” Yamaguchi giggled as they all secretly watched the man type furiously.

“Do you know who he is?” Suga asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. The other two just shrugged.

“No. He comes here a few times a month and orders ridiculously sweet drinks. He usually stays a few hours.” Kiyoko answered, seeming uninterested. Suga nodded and decided to drop the matter. Soon there were more people coming in and out of the café and Suga was too busy to pay him any more mind. He met one other of his coworkers as Yamaguchi’s shift ended earlier. He was small and energetic, and Suga found out that he studied sports. Makes sense, Suga thought to himself as he smiled at how much energy Hinata seemed to have.

After his shift finally ended, Suga was glad to get back to his small apartment. It wasn’t anything big or fancy, but it was enough for him. There were some unpacked boxes still in one corner of the apartment that he had neglected the entire week in favour of exploring the city. He wasn’t big on decorating except for a string of fairy lights and a big houseplant his best friend gave him when he moved away.

The one thing he was thankful for in his small apartment was his bathtub. Even though it wasn’t exactly the biggest bathtub he had ever seen, he was very fond of it. It was the perfect size for him, even though he had to bend his knees to comfortably have his shoulders underwater. He loved taking hot baths after a long day, letting the hot water ease the aches and pains of the day, getting lost in his thoughts with nothing but two candles illuminating his small bathroom. Today was no different. As he sank into the mixture of bubbles and warm water, he let his mind wander, phone on silent. He mentally planned out the next week because that was when his classes would officially be starting. He made a mental note of all the things he still needed to do before bed as he closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the bath engulf him. Subconsciously, his mind wandered back to that man from the Starbucks this morning. What was his name again? Sam… Something. No, Sawamura, that was it. He couldn’t help but remember how handsome he looked, even though he seemed to be having the hangover of his life. Suga wondered what he would look like with a good night’s rest and maybe if he wasn’t that grumpy or stressed out. Sighing, he tried to push the image of the handsome stranger out of his mind. He was done falling for people and getting into relationships for now anyways, especially with what happened with his ex… He left him with a broken heart and trust issues, and he didn’t think he’d be able to go through that kind of pain again anytime soon.

God, you’re so pathetic , Suga thought to himself. Are you really planning your future with some guy? Just because he’s handsome and mysterious and most definitely out of your league? And most probably painfully heterosexual… Get a grip on yourself.

He sighed and opened his eyes, pulling himself out of the bathtub, drying himself off, and getting ready for bed. Tomorrow was going to be a hell of a day, mainly because he had no idea what to expect from his new University, especially how the people were going to be.

He fell asleep the instant his head touched the pillow, content he could finally fall into a dreamless slumber.

…

Suga woke up with a start, confused as to why his alarm rang even though it was still dark out. When he looked at his phone, he realised that it was not his alarm but, in fact, his best friend trying to FaceTime him. Sighing, he accepted the call.

“Asahi, what do you want? It’s almost one a.m.” Suga groaned, rubbing his face.

“Oh no did I wake you? Sorry! But also I’m not sorry because you promised we’d call today! Didn’t think you’d forget..” Asahi said on the other side of the phone and Suga mentally slapped himself.

“Right, sorry… I forgot… Today was a lot and I just got settled at work and… Ugh… I’m sorry. But I’m here now! How was your day?” Suga asked, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

“No worries! Just wanted to check in to see if you were still alive. My day was alright, I’m getting ready for tomorrow and I’m kinda nervous.” Suga could tell that Asahi was more than “a bit nervous” so he sat up in bed, facing the camera in earnest.

“You’ll do great! Uni is hard but it’s important to remember that every single first-year goes through the same! I promise it’ll be alright!” Asahi only frowned in response to his encouragement, clearly skeptical.

“But you have it so easy, Suga. It’s so difficult for me to talk to new people.” Asahi all but pouted. Suga sighed.

“Yeah I know, but I promise you a lot of people are the same, and you being like that hasn’t stopped us from being friends, right?” Suga prompted, smiling at the camera.

“Yes, but we were neighbours. Also, we’ve been friends since we were 5. You’re kinda stuck with me.” Asahi smiled and Suga just shook his head.

“You’re so stubborn. You’ll be fine! You can always text me if you get anxious but please try and at least talk to one person. Can you do that for me?” Suga asked and he could see Asahi calm down the more they talked.

“Yes, I’ll try. Alright, tell me about your day!” Asahi said excitedly, leaning his face closer to the camera.

“Oh, it was nice actually! I mean it was exhausting but my colleagues are super nice! One of them would get along really well with Noya actually, he has so much energy and is so positive, they’d be the best of friends in no time.” Asahi’s face smiled sadly at the mention of his boyfriend. They’ve been long-distance for four months and Suga knew how much his best friend missed him.

“But yeah the other people are really kind as well. Remember that shy boy that was working when I had my interview? Turns out he is actually a badass behind the counter and he could shit-talk for days.” Suga laughed at that, knowing that Asahi disapproves of anything that has to do with making fun of others.

“I’m glad that your coworkers are nice!! I miss hanging out with you” Asahi said, his face pulled into a frown yet again.

“I do too. But hey I’ll be coming back for a weekend soon and we’ll be able to hang out together!” Suga prompted, trying to stifle a yawn.

“Yes, that’s true. Alright, you look tired, you should sleep” Asahi said, and Suga agreed. His head felt heavy and his eyes were closing despite his will to keep them open.

“We’ll call tomorrow after your first day’s over! I think I’ll be free after 4 pm so just call me when you have time” Suga sleepily smiled at the camera as they said their goodbyes and he immediately fell back asleep.

He awoke the next morning with his first alarm, something that didn’t happen often. He decided to enjoy the morning then, having more than an hour to get to the subway: he had a strong cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal as he mindlessly scrolled through his phone. After sending Asahi a few memes as was his morning ritual, he ran down the stairs to get to his uni. He had visited it a few times before moving, so he was more confident in finding his way from the subway to the doors of the main building.

[sanktnikolais]

Take My Hand - Angstober/Softober (8/31)

A/N: damn this was actually longer than I’ve intended it to and I am a day late noooo KLJHASFKLJHASF but here is the role swap au no one asked for based on the prompt ‘Moonlight’ and ‘Speechless from the Angstober/Softober list.

Word count: 2620

AO3

If there was anything that made Nikolai anxious, it was looking for potential threats around the ballroom all the while keeping the princesses in sight. 

          Though he knew that the crown princess was more than capable of protecting herself, it was better to be safe and keep up with her movements on the dance floor where she was. 

          He definitely wasn't looking at her, in a floor-length blue dress and her cascading raven hair flowing down her back, dancing with high ranking officials and dukes for quite a while now. She looked at ease, calm even, which was very far from her usual stoic and grumpy demeanor that she always seemed to have when she was with him. 

          There was a weird twinge in his chest, making him frown. He knew he should never expect anything from Zoya—either friendship or just being acquaintances, it would be up to her to consider, aside from treating him as someone other than the Captain of the Guard. 

          But all those late night encounters and talks had made a small part of him hope a bit more. 

          The night went on with Nikolai taking turns keeping an eye on her and the much younger princess, who was actually easier to locate because of her yellow dress. Lada was all energetic and grins as she ran from table to table and greeted the guests. He had to fight off a chuckle as he watched the people’s expressions brighten up with her infectious smile. 

          As happy as the young princess could be came the dwindling warmth from her older sister. He noticed that Zoya’s smiles had become more hollow and forced, and she had taken one too many glasses from the passing servants. He also knew that she could handle drinks well enough, but based on past experience, he would prefer the sober, sharp-tongued Zoya Nazyalensky a hundred times over. 

          A narrowed look appeared on his face as he saw Zoya abruptly move away from her current dance partner, to which Nikolai recognized as Count Kirigin, and made her way towards the far end of the floor. Concern washed over him as he watched her disappear amidst the crowd. She rarely walked out on events—she always managed to endure it until it ended, and he was the one who would hear all the complaints and issues throughout the night.

          He averted his eyes from her direction for a moment and turned to his left, where he saw Lada hogging something on the buffet table nearby, before looking back to the dance floor. Count Kirigin was still on the same spot as where Zoya left him, shoulders slumped in disappointment. Nikolai found himself furrowing his eyebrows further at the man. Had something happened?

          “If you’re worried about her,” a voice said from somewhere behind him, and effectively startling him, “you should follow her.”

          Nikolai whirled around to see Lada perched on the pillar, balancing her feet on the small space by its base. 

          The young princess popped another sweet into her mouth and gave him a grin. “I’m sure Zoya would like it.”

          “What did we talk about having sweets at this time of the night?” He raised an eyebrow as a gesture to the little girl’s hand, which carried several more candies. “If I go and follow her, I will have to tell her about that, little princess.”

          Lada shook her head, a confident expression on her face. “No, you wouldn’t. You’d be too busy staring at her to remember,” she said, and Nikolai huffed a laugh at that. She was smarter than he had always thought her to be. “Besides, you adore me. And you’ll adore me even more when I say she’s in the balcony.”

          He opened his mouth to protest about wanting to go after her sister, but he found that Lada would be able to see right through him anyway. Instead, he sighed and turned back to observing the ball room. “I’m quite sure she wants to be alone.”

          “I’m quite sure she wouldn’t mind your company.”

          “You put too much confidence in her.”

          “For a captain, you really are blind,” Lada said, making Nikolai turn back to the child. For someone who was only turning ten in a few months, she sometimes sounded more of an adult than he would’ve expected. “She’s been stealing glances at you all night.”

          Nikolai wanted to laugh, but held it back. That’s too good to be true. “No, she hasn’t,” he replied. He was sure of it. He had eyes on her all night. Or had he just missed it?

          Lada shrugged, patting him gently on one shoulder. “Don’t say I didn’t tell you,” she said, a bit sadly, before she jumped off the pillar and skipped away before he could say something more. 

          A long moment passed and the ball continued without much of a complication. He hadn’t seen Zoya on the dance floor or anywhere again, and by that time, Nikolai was already considering following her out.

          But his previous conversation with the younger princess was the one that made him hesitate. Even if it’s true, there was no way that Zoya would be in a good mood around someone based on her demeanor the last time he saw her. 

          “Nikolai.”

          Nikolai jolted slightly at the sound of another voice beside him. “Saints,” he said as he turned to the person, seeing Tolya’s towering form and the confused expression on his face. “People should really stop startling me.”

          Tolya laughed lightly. “Unlikely of you to be startled easily, Captain. Something bothering you?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Or someone, perhaps?”

          “Dear me, why is everyone assuming I’m thinking of someone?”

          “Aren’t you?”

          “No,” Nikolai denied instantly, which made Tolya give him a knowing look. He shook his head and pulled at his collar in slight annoyance. Being in uniform for the whole day had become too stiff for his liking. “Is there something you have to tell me?”

          Realization dawned on his companion’s face, and Tolya hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “Lada is looking for you,” he said.

          Nikolai frowned. “But she was just here earlier.”

          “I don’t know, she seemed preoccupied with something and can’t leave their table,” Tolya said. He waved a hand when Nikolai opened his mouth to reply. “Don’t worry, I got your place covered. Go tend to the little one. She’s really keen on finding you.”

          The table was at the center of the ballroom, just below the dais, and Nikolai couldn’t really see the royal family that much from his current place. Though it’s not new for Lada to come request for his presence at certain times, he had no idea what the younger princess wanted to show him now.

          Nikolai sighed. “Alright.”

          He made his way towards the table, mumbling excuses to the people he passed by in the ballroom, some making way for him when they saw him approaching. He was nearing the table, when he heard Lada’s voice somewhere to his right.

          “Nicky!”

          He turned to see Lada pushing her way through the crowd and running up to him. A confused look bloomed on his face. “Lada, what—”

          Lada seized his hand and started pulling him towards the opposite direction, her demeanor all too excited and beaming. Nikolai figured that it was from the sugar rush she got from the sweets earlier. Zoya was most likely going to kill him when she knew about this.

          “Finally, you moved from your post,” Lada said. “Come on, I want to show you something.”

          Nikolai frowned, but still let the younger princess drag him to wherever she planned to bring him, earning several pointed looks from people they happen to bump on due to Lada’s enthusiasm of leading him.

          “Excuse me, Captain of the Guard coming through!” She was waving her hand forward as if to divide the crowd.

          A few moments later, they were breaking out of the ballroom through one of the side exits, and they set foot on the balcony. The chatter and music from the area was now faint, with the night breeze overtaking the sound coming from the ballroom. 

          “Lada—”

          Almost too immediately, Lada let go of his hand and stepped back, holding a finger up with a frown on her face. She had the same expression for another moment before realization came to her face. “Oh, wait. I forgot something,” she said, already turning back to the ballroom again. “I’ll be back in a bit!”

          Nikolai reached out a hand as if to stop the girl, confusion overwhelming his mind, but the princess had already disappeared back inside. What was—

          “Lada?”

          A voice came behind him, and he froze. It took him two seconds to put it all together, making him close his eyes in embarrassment. He should’ve known better. And considering that Tolya was also behind this without Nikolai noticing only added to become more mortified of himself.

          He let out a sigh before turning around to face the person behind him. Maybe it was his distress over the ploy that Lada was able to pull him in, or maybe he just never had accustomed himself to her splendor and beauty, because even as he’d been keeping an eye on her all night, Nikolai still found himself sucking in a breath when he looked at her.

          Zoya’s eyebrows furrowed as she regarded him a bit stiffly. The dim light outside only made her eyes glow brighter and Nikolai couldn’t help staring. “Captain,” she greeted. She was holding an empty glass in her hand, and he wondered how many she had drunk tonight. “Was that Lada?”

          Nikolai blinked and shook himself, returning his usual cool demeanor. “Apparently, yes. She told me she wanted to show me something so here I am,” he said, spreading his arms wide. “What brought you here to sulk, princess? 

          He expected her to deflect the subject or dismiss him, but she scoffed instead, waving a frustrated hand in the air. “Oh, you know, too many people and too many small talks,” she replied with a huff. She stomped grumpily over to the parapet. “I’d rather jump off this balcony than dance or talk with another person again.”

          “But you’re talking to me,” Nikolai mused, slowly walking towards the parapet as well. Zoya gave him an incredulous look, and it made him laugh lightly. “Well, if you ever decide to jump off, just know that I’d be morally obliged to jump after you.”

          The crown princess mocked a sweet smile. “How chivalrous of you, Captain.”

          “I do my best, Princess.” He winked at her, to which she only replied with scoff. 

          A comfortable silence stretched over them, and Nikolai smiled contentedly. It was during quiet times like these that he would let his mind stray dangerously close to the invisible line between them that neither of them acknowledged aloud, or just refused to, and he would find himself hoping again. 

          He glanced at Zoya at the corner of his eyes, careful not to be too obvious. There was a look of ease on her face, the kind that one would rarely see from the crown princess who was well known for her regal and stoic expressions during public appearances. Ravka’s Storm, the people would call her, both thunder and lightning, powerful and fierce. 

          It was fitting for her, all rough edges and sharp tongue, never to hurt and only to tell nothing else but the truth.

          Beautiful. It was the one word that he could think of every time his eyes landed on her.

          Beautiful.

          Zoya must have felt his stare at her, because she suddenly turned to him with a frown, and it was too late for Nikolai to avert his eyes. She raised an eyebrow at him. “What’s the matter, Captain?”

          His mind tried to come up for excuses, but came up empty. Instead, he voiced out his thoughts. “You just look at ease tonight.”

          She laughed darkly. “Trust me, I feel exactly the opposite inside.” She paused, looking down at her hands. After a moment, she said, “Count Kirigin had asked permission to court me earlier.”

          The statement had Nikolai floored, and there was the unexpected sting in his chest again. But he knew better than to welcome it, so he brushed it away. He didn’t know what else to say about it, and he settled with his usual joking jabs instead. “Is that why you’re sulking out here?”

          To his relief, Zoya huffed. “Oh, shut up with the sulking.” She shook her head, and then sighed. “I—I didn’t know what came to me and just walked out. I don’t think I was ready for that yet.”

          Nikolai could only look at her with concern as she continued, “I know it’s bound to happen, those kinds of proposals. But I just don’t want to be tied down yet.”

          “Hey,” he said softly, reaching out a hand to clasp hers. Even through his glove, her skin was warm against his touch. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Take all the time you need.”

          “Easier said than done, Captain,” she said with a huff, but she squeezed his hand back. “It’s actually a surprise you’re not infuriating tonight.”

          He laughed. “Are you still considering jumping off the balcony?”

          “I’d rather not now.”

          “That’s good to hear.”

          Zoya gave him a narrowed look. “But, you know, maybe we should dance instead.”

          Nikolai’s thoughts stopped altogether. Out of all of the possible things she could’ve said, this was last on the list. Saints, it wasn’t even on the list. He stared at her, mouth agape and eyebrows furrowed. The Captain of the Guard was left speechless. Did he hear it right?

          He blinked repeatedly, running the words on his mind again. “Wha—I’m sorry, come again?”

          There was a faint redness on her cheeks, but her eyes didn’t waver from his stare. Nikolai chalked it up to the cold. Or probably the several drinks she had. “Dance, Captain,” she said. 

          “Here?”

          “Why not? The music could still be heard out here.” Then Zoya gave him a smug look. “Don’t tell me the Captain doesn’t know how to dance.”

          This somehow saved Nikolai from the nth embarrassment he had tonight, and he challenged her look. “Ah, underestimating the Captain again, Princess?” He didn’t even notice that their hands were still clasped until he held out his other hand out to her. “Well, then. May I?”

          Zoya only smirked and took his hand, leading him to the center of the balcony. Her arms came up around his neck, while his settled around her waist, and slowly, they began swaying along the soft, faint music that wafted out on the balcony. 

          It was a tender moment for them, not as a Captain or Princess, but as Nikolai and Zoya, under the moonlight, with nothing but the skies and stars as witnesses.

 ***

Though it wasn’t actually just the skies and stars. Behind the pillar of the exit that supported the archway hid two figures, peeking out in the balcony with a smile on their faces. 

          “I told you it would work,” Lada said. She was perched on Tolya’s right shoulder, munching on another set of sweets. “You people should trust me more when it comes to scheming.”

          Tolya inclined his head up to look at the little princess. “Remind me to include you in planning battle strategies next time?” he said with a light laugh.

          Lada only grinned in return, the both of them looking back to the couple in the balcony that were still in each other’s arms before leaving quietly and letting them have their moment.

          It was another win for the younger princess tonight.

[ithinkimblue]

Can I have a dance ?

100 ways to say I love you:

Number 14 - “Can I have a dance?”

Rating: K

Relationship: Tim Drake x Conner Kent/Kon-El

Fluff, Romance

1 chapter / 1k words

Link Ao3

Summary: Today was prom day and Conner was kind of stress cause i still didn't have a plus one. He wanted to invite his best friend/date-if-Tim-wanted-to but men! It was hard to confess his love. 

Hello everyone! English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for the spelling mistakes that you might see. This fic pop in my mind because of one post on @blondetins’ tumblr named “100 ways to say I love you” Recently, my love for the Batfamily reached the high of the Wayne Tower, and I think about them and their different love stories all the time. I was time to write something about it! Happy reading!

If you asked him, this night was the most stressful moment in Conner’s short life. Even going on mission and facing the end of the world seems less stressful.

But this night was also one of the most beautiful that in ever lived.

The day before begun quite casually. As usual, Kon woke up late and was force to use his super speed to prepare his stuffs so he wouldn’t be late.

He flew to his high school, landed behind an empty building nearby and ran at normal speed the few meters’ left.

As soon as his feet touch the ground, his ears were overwhelmed by all the chatters filling the school.

Of course! With his super busy schedule, Kon had totally forgotten that prom was tonight… And he didn’t have a date yet.

Well, that wasn’t exactly right. He could have found one month ago, but he declined every request. Not that he wanted to go alone. In fact, he knew exactly who he wanted to invite but the situation was way more complicated than it sounded. Cause he lived in a small town in the depths of Kansas and he wanted to invite a boy and not a just a friend and not any boy: Tim Drake-Wayne himself. And if this wasn’t complicated enough, Tim didn’t know what Conner felt about him. They were just supposed to be best friends and Kon still hadn’t got the guts to tell him. But if he didn’t want to go to prom alone, he knew exactly what he had to do.

With that idea in mind, Conner spent his entire morning thinking about what he’ll say, what he’ll do, so much that at the end of his last class of the day, before midday, he didn’t even remember a thing his teachers said. But… clearly, he didn’t give a fuck. He had other things to do.

Soon as the last bell rang, he left his school and fly as fast as possible to the Kent’s farm. There, he sent a simple text to Tim, asking to meet him if he wasn’t not too busy.

As usual, his best friend was more than ready to sacrifice a few of his working hours to spend time with him and said yes almost instantly.

Full of stress, Conner put his Superboy outfit, his earrings and some make-up on before living for Gotham. Usually, he avoided wear make-up at Smallville. It was a small town and people already looked at him weirdly since he began living with Pa’ and Ma’ at the farm.

But he wanted to be as handsome as he could be before seeing Tim and he also felt more like himself as Superboy than as Conner, the farm boy, copy of Clark Kent. He liked too much his piercings and leather jacket.

Finally ready, he took one minute to warn Pa’ and Ma’ that he was going out before taking off.

Direction Gotham, and more precisely Wayne Enterprise’s roof top.

The fly was actually really helpful for his stress. Kon always loved flying. It made him calmer and helped him think more clearly.

So, when he arrived in Gotham, he was relaxed and super happy to see his best friend/maybe-boyfriend-if-Tim-loved-him-back.

As soon as he entered the city, he immediately spotted Tim’s heartbeat, harmonious as usual. This was always reassuring knowing, even miles away, he could hear that nothing was wrong and that Rob’ was okay.

Arriving near WE, it took him two seconds to see Tim, sat down on the edge of the roof, watching the horizon. And he took him the exact same time to join him with a cheerful “Hello.”

Tim responded with a smile before offering Kon some M&M’s© that he probably stole from the vending machine he installed next to his office (he could totally pay for it, but it was more funny to steel it since Jason told him how). Being the CEO offered so advantages.

“So. What’s up?” Tim started talking. He’s always the one who start when he saw that Kon wanted to but could find the words.

“Oh. Nothing out of the ordinary. Kansas is boring, so is school and I just wanted to spend some quality time with my best friend.”

“Not wrong. School is boring. But are you sure everything is alright? Not like I dislike seeing you more often but it’s rare that you offer a meeting in the middle of the week and in the middle of a day without reasons. I mean, we’re going to see each other in less than two days at the Tower so… I was just wondering.”

Deciding that that was never be a right moment and that Tim made it easy for him by insisting, Kon had tried.

“Actually… You’re right! I wanted to see you cause I’ve got something to ask. But… It’s kinda hard to say so… please don’t interrupt me…” Kon’s tone sounded like begging but he didn’t care.

“As you wish.”

“So… since I’ve officially start high school, I began to learn all the things that teenagers are supposed to do. Things that aren’t saving the world every Tuesday.” Tim laughed at his joke and Kon relaxed. “One of those things is… prom. And especially the tradition to invite a plus one. But… like the idiot I am, I totally forgot about that and… It’s not like I don’t know who inviting. In fact, I know exactly who I want to spend my night with but… it’s complicated.”

“All of our lives are complicated anyway.”

“I said no interruption!” Kon pretended to be mad and apparently, his fake angry face was like by Tim who let a small grin slip on his face. “I was saying. It’s complicated… See… you’re my best friend. I’ve known who since forever, and I don’t want to ruin or friendship or anything but… I want to ask you something.”

“Hey!” Tim stopped him and gentle stroke his hand on Kon’s cheek. “Nothing can ruin our friendship. You hear me? Nothing! You can tell me anything, and I’ll always be her for you, no matter what."

Kon blushed a little. Tim’s eyes stared at his. There were so beautiful, so full of… everything… Quietly, Conner pressed his hand against Tim’s, still on his cheek.

“I…” He took a long breathing and finally asked. “Do you want to go to prom with me? As a more than friend plus one!” That’s it! He said it.

For a few seconds (to long if you asked Kon), Tim seemed surprise. But a tender smile quickly replaced his startled expression.

“If you mean in a boyfriend kind of way, then I’ll be happy to go with you.”

It was now Conner’s time to be surprised.

“You… you… what does that mean?”

“It means that I like you too dummy!”

“Oh” Kon was incapable of saying anything else, in choc to see his feelings returned.

~o~

That’s how Kon ended up, in an old Clark’s suit, in the ball room/gymnasium of his high school, waiting for his date (who was late).

He was happily speaking to his friends about gossips, classes and unimportant stuffs trying to kill time.

But he couldn’t hide that he was a little bit worried. It took balls to invite a guy to dance in one of the most homophobic state in USA.

So Kon wasn’t hiding that he was kind of scared of the reactions of his friends, of the reputation he was going to give the Kent.

However, at the second he heard known and really specific footsteps, he turned his eyes to the entrance just in time to see Tim waking in. And just like that, Conner forgot every fear that he had. Tim was… radiant.

Knowing him, he certainly randomly picked one of his suit. It was simple, like every other boy in the room. But he wore it like he was born in it and Conner couldn’t detach his eyes of him.

His friends tried to understand what was happening to him but he ignored them.

Rapidly, he hurried in Tim’s direction, a big smile stuck on his face.

“Hello beautiful, you’ve got wonderful eyes you know that?” Kon was sure his stupid line will please Tim, or at least made him blush.

“You dork.” Ah! Tim was discreetly laughing! And blushing! Objectives completed. “Show me the bar instead of playing the idiot. I’m thirsty and everyone is starring.”

“Oh… Yeah. You’re right. This way.” Rao… He already started babbling. And Tim was right, everyone was starring and some in the crowd even recognize Tim. It must be said: Tim was known by the tabloid and even in a modest town as Smallville, people known him.

During a hot minute, Conner started regretting ask him to come.

But a hand on his made him forgot all the bad thoughts he had. Tim put a worried look on him and Kon smile at him, silently saying “Nothing’s wrong, don’t worry.”

Smiling back, Tim put down his drink on the table nearby and pulled Kon toward the dance floor.

 “Can I have this dance?”

Kon laugh at the question and switch roles. He was now pulling Tim towards the other dancers.

They quickly faced each other et started dance like nobody was watching them. And he didn’t take long for them to bring each other closer.

At the end of the dance, they ended up chest against chest, breathless. Looking at each other, the logical choice for Kon was to lean toward Tim’s face. Tim’s eyes couldn’t leave his. And the young CEO’s face seemed saying one thing “Kiss me”.

So Kon obeyed and kiss him.