#which was finally starting to improve and go away five fucking months later

[raeathnos]

.

[medusanova]

Anything That Can Go Wrong

For my fellow rivusa shipper, @fitztragedy​ xx

When Musa learns that Riven is the ‘mentor’ assigned to improve her hand-to-hand combat skills -- and help her pass the only class she has left to complete her third year specialist courses -- she begins to wonder if Murphy’s Law should be amended from ‘anything’ always going wrong to ‘anyone’. 

Because apparently it isn’t enough they’d both left, well, things awkwardly suspended between them after the spiraling catastrophe that was her second year. He’s also still the only person to know what happened with the scrapers. 

Added to that, Riven also happened to be one of only five people in the whole of Alfea that sat at the same desk as her in botany class last term, leaving her to battle his soil remnants, eraser shavings, seat warmth, and general presence for an entire hour everyday. And, worst of all, he’s still the only person who’s ever come close to understanding the very heart of her. 

And now? Well, now she has an entire month to make a fool of herself in front of her biggest rival on the training pitch. All in the name of making it to her fourth and final year. 

Their meeting time is set for an hour before dusk every other evening on the patch of grounds near the barrier. On her first day, Riven arrives as she’s securing her fighting gloves around her wrists. He quietly sets up the training mat and stands in wait, patient as can be.

“Hey,“ she greets. She isn’t going to let him of all people show her up in decency.

“Muse,“ he drawls with a nod. “Why the fuck are you wearing gloves?“

Decency her arse. She barely prevents her eyes from rolling and lifts a brow. “For safety and protection? Maybe you should try it sometime.” 

“Oh don’t worry ‘bout me, Pixie. I always use protection,” he assures with a growing smirk. 

Musa manages to ‘accidentally’ clip a fist against his jaw during their session. She considers it a great start to the month.

She sees him a week later during her free period, which also happens to be his free period (see? Murphy’s Law: Person Edition), when she has the unfortunate idea of spending it outside. She’s walking through the courtyard with her headphones around her neck, ready to settle behind the tree situated furthest away from the main building.

He’s already there, of course, under her favorite willow. Faint traces of cigarette smoke pepper the air as he hunches over his phone, legs sprawled over the comfiest part of the roots. The only reason she doesn’t spontaneously combust is because of the faint purple mark she spots under his right cheek.

He gives her a look when she slowly lowers herself onto the gravelly dirt nearby before going back to his phone. She’s about to put her headphones on when he sighs in exasperation.

“At the risk of being decked in the jaw again-“

“Bet you’re glad I had those gloves on, huh?“

“-I feel the need to ask: why on earth are you sitting over there?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, there’s only one comfy place to sit under this tree.” She digs her phone out of her back pocket, ready to drown him out. 

“Musa,” Riven says, sounding vexed, “you look tragic. If you’re really set on this tree for some reason come and sit here.” He scoots over, extending his legs in front of him to give her enough room.

When she continues to stare at him he grins and says, “Promise I won’t bite.”

Riven doesn’t bite. Which is rather unfortunate since instead they talk about music and his upcoming apprenticeship with Silva and he even shares a bite of the cookie he stole from the canteen, which forces her to play her new favorite band out loud for him. In effort to not lose in the decency department, of course.

“What’s your last class?” he asks as she secures her headphones back around her neck.

She stands a moment before he does, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “History. Why?” 

“Drop by the bastion when it’s over?” They started back toward the main building. “I’ve been doing weapons training with some of the first-years and they’re having trouble grasping the art of the bo staff. Thought you could share a few pointers.”

“Oh!” She grabs his bicep, barely containing her smile. “Yes, I’d love that. Though, fair warning, I haven’t been using it as much this term to ‘round out my strengths’ so once I join you might have a hard time getting rid of me.”

His lips quirk in the corner, creasing a dimple into the corner of his cheek. “That’s what I was counting on, actually.”

After her class she makes her way to the group of first years wielding staffs haphazardly as their instructor guides them in a commanding, yet reassuring voice. He weaves her into his class seamlessly, allowing her to take over their instruction and demonstrate effective techniques they could use in the future.

Throughout the lesson, she studiously avoids catching a glimpse of Riven and that cheek dimple he’d flashed at her earlier. The one that she couldn’t stop thinking about all day. She can, however, feel him staring at her intently as he wraps class up. 

It’s just the two of them left when she finally catches sight of him and Murphy’s Law bites her in the arse again. 

He’s clearly been working with students a majority of the day because his shirt sleeves have been rolled to the elbows, revealing an obscene amount of forearm that flexes as he holds two staffs and twirls them in each hand. Perspiration clings steadfastly to his cheeks and forehead and upper lip.

“Since when do you use a staff?” she asks, irritated with how breathless it she sounds, with how his cheek twitches. 

She almost doesn’t catch it when he launches at her, too focused on that charming, damned dimple again. 

“Watch.”

He comes at her without warning, making her raise her weapon to defend herself. And like they’d rehearsed it, they fall perfectly into a spar. Five minutes. Ten. She doesn’t know how long. They’re twin flames dancing around each other. 

It takes her a few moments to realize he’s using her moves. 

“Have to say, I’m pretty impressed,” she admits, stopping their spar.  

His face, which had been guarded and focused until then, broke into a smile. “Yeah?”

“Who taught you these super impressive and original moves?”

“Some mind fairy,” he quips, laughing at her shout of indignation. “You should see her do these. Mine are a poor imitation.”

She gives him her most serious expression. “Hm. I beg to differ.”

“You do?” 

“Yes. I have it on good authority.”

She’s about to turn away, unable to withstand the attraction and electricity buzzing between them when his fingers brush hers and suddenly he grabs the staff, throwing it into a pile with the rest.

“Hey! Give it back.”

“I’ll give it back later. But right now, I’d really like to kiss you.”

She flattens her lips to stop the smile from spreading across her cheeks. “You would, would you?”

“Very much so,” he murmurs. 

“I didn’t think you were the type to ask for permission,” she prods.

“Hm, usually I’m not,” he cups her face in his hands, sliding his fingers along her jaw. She barely stops her eyes from closing in pleasure. “Then again, I usually don’t end up with a bruise on my face when I’m with anyone else so let’s call this a special case.”

She smiles and covers said bruise with her palm, placing her thumb over his dimple. “Oh, well I don’t think you have anything to worry about this time around.”

His breath ghosts her lips, mouth so close she could feel his smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, I have it on good authority.”

Maybe, she thought, Murphy’s Law knew what it was doing after all. 

Happy happy birthday to you, dear Val!!

[softukiyos]

a pinch of the jeekies | han jisung

𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙩𝙮𝙥𝙚: 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦

𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙞𝙥𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣: 𝘫𝘪𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥. 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: ~2.7k+

𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙮: 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯

𝙖/𝙣: 𝘩𝘪 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘦! 𝘪 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦! 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩! >.< 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺!

Jisung liked to take pride in his cheeks. When he'd first entered elementary school, he despised them. Everyone had seemed to shed their baby fat very quickly, but his squishy cheeks never left. After a few years of struggling with his self image, he entered high school, confident and proud of how he looked. 

His cheeks were unmatched. No one would ever have cheeks that could even come close. 

At least, that was what he thought before he met you, his strict, grumpy tutor that his chemistry teacher had assigned to him in hopes of raising his abysmal grades. 

Jisung didn't like you at first. He'd known you from afar like most other people did; the top of the class, intellectually brilliant but aloof girl that didn't seem to care about anyone in the school. 

Jisung didn't like you when he first met you in person. Your tutoring sessions were hard, and he meant really hard. You never let him get away with a single thing, not one missing unit, not one problem where he forgot to show work, nothing ever passed your watchful eye. And as  much as he tried to resist, he found his grades improving at a rapid rate, which only encouraged his teacher to send him to you more. 

After a month or so, however, it sort of hit Jisung like a truck when he finally had the revelation that you weren't so bad. As Spartan as your teaching methods were, you never belittled him for asking a stupid question, you wouldn't laugh if he asked you to slow down, and all in all, you were genuinely quite considerate of his feelings while still managing to get the results out of him. The first time he saw you genuinely smile was when he handed you his first B+, where you looked him in the eye and told him that you were proud of his improvement. 

Jisung couldn't even remember the last time he received a compliment like that from anyone. So after a while, he began to think that maybe you didn't show care towards anyone in particular because no one ever bothered to look past your reputation to see you for who you were. 

After another day of classes, he headed to the library, ready for another grueling hour of chemical reaction exercises. However, as he turned the corner into the little nook that you liked to study in, his steps faltered as he saw you slumped over the desk, your head resting on your arms as you slept soundly.

Now, Jisung probably shouldn't have gotten so excited to see you sleep, but he did. After all, he'd never seen you in such a relaxed state around him, and as he took a peek at your face, he physically had to stop himself from cooing out loud at how adorable you looked.

Woah, woah, woah. What?

The boy did a quick double take. When did he ever think his chemistry tutor was cute? Well, there was that one time he saw you scurrying down the hallway when you came to school late, there was that one time you sneezed on your way up to the whiteboard and looked a bit like a deer in headlights. There was also that one time he saw you giggle when you came across a quokka doodle in his notes and--oh my god that was basically 98% of his time with you and the other 2% was the time he was just staring at you from afar. 

Gulping nervously, he slid into the chair next to you and very carefully placed his book bag on the table. To be honest, he was waiting for you to wake up on your own; with a brother named Changbin who was a literal demon if you even so much as nudged him while he was asleep, Jisung was well aware of the dangers of waking people up from naps. He wasn’t sure what type of riser you were, and he wasn’t going to find out.

But as the minutes ticked on and crept into your normal tutoring time, you still didn’t wake and Jisung just sat beside you, picking imaginary petals in his head to decide whether or not he should give your shoulder a light nudge. He wanted to, because he knew you’d probably get upset at him if you woke up later to find that the two of you had wasted precious time, but on the other hand, you did look quite exhausted, even more so than usual. The bags under your eyes seemed slightly more defined, and this nap looked like the first moment of decent sleep you’ve gotten in days.

Eventually, Jisung decided not to wake you. If you got angry, then he’d just promise to study on his own when he got back home. He could put off playing games with Felix for one night if it meant that you got some rest. When you made an expression of discomfort, he even shrugged off his bomber jacket, rolling it into a pillow before gently maneuvering it to replace the book you were sleeping on.

With nothing else to do, Jisung found himself spending much of that time on his phone, but he couldn’t help but take some of the other time to gaze at you. Now that you weren’t wacking him with a rolled up test that he failed or glaring at everyone, you actually looked quite innocent and peaceful. You looked even happy, and Jisung wondered what you were dreaming about.

But what really caught Jisung’s eye were your cheeks. With your face squished against your arm, your cheeks were puffed up adorably, and it took every ounce of self restraint for Jisung to not poke them at least once. They looked like little marshmallows, and as the minutes ticked on, Jisung found it harder and harder to control himself.

He even felt a little bit of jealousy curling in his gut. What moisturizer did you use? Why did your cheeks look softer than his?

“Oh, the two of you are still here!”

Jisung almost jumped out of his seat as the librarian peaked her head into the corner, “A-ah, yes!” He stumbled over his words nervously.

“Well, you better hurry out. I’m closing up in five,” she said before finishing up her rounds so she could leave for the day. Checking his phone, Jisung realized with a start that it was almost six in the evening, thirty minutes past when your normal tutoring session ended. He didn’t even notice.

He glanced over at you, who was still snoring away without a care in the world and his expression softened. Looks like he’d have to wake you up after all. He almost didn’t want to, but against his better judgement, he leaned towards you and gave your cheek a gentle little pinch, full of fondness that he didn’t even really understand yet.

“Y/N,” he murmured your name as softly as possible, his smiling widening as you let out a soft groan in response. Wow, your cheeks were fluffier than anything he’d ever touched before.

“What…?” you mumbled, eyes fluttering open as you sat up, gripping at Jisung’s jacket in confusion.

He smiled, “Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” he ducked under your sleepy attempt to flick his forehead.

“What time is it?”

“Almost six,” Jisung said, helping you pack your book bag as you regained your bearings. As you finally managed to process where you were, your eyes widened almost comically.

“It’s almost six.”

Jisung laughed, “Yes? That’s what I just said?”

You shoved his jacket back at his chest, cheeks unnaturally hot, “Why didn’t you wake me up?!” Gosh, you were more than embarrassed. It was one thing to miss a tutoring session, it was another to sleep through it with your student literally right next to you. Especially when the student was Han Jisung.

He took his jacket back, still amused by how flustered you looked. In all the time he’d spent with you, he’d never seen you look so frazzled before, “I wanted to wake you, but you looked so tired!” Jisung explained, deciding to take the moment to try and reach out to you once more, “Is everything alright? You looked really drained. I noticed in class, too.” 

You tensed up, not expecting Jisung to be so observant. No, scratch that, you knew Jisung was always observant, but you never thought that applied to you. 

“I just have a little more on my plate now,” you explained the best you could without actually explaining. 

Jisung felt a pang of disappointment. It was the blank wall to the face again, like he always got when he tried to get to know you better. Two steps forward, four steps back.

“But, regardless, you should've woken me up,” you continued, huffing at him as you reached into your bag to pull out your planner, “It's my fault for oversleeping, so let me know what time you'd like to reschedule--”

“Woah, woah,” Jisung waved his hands frantically, shaking his head, “Didn't you just say you have more on your plate now? You don't need to reschedule.”

You gave him an inquisitive stare and he physically had to hold back a gulp, “Are you just trying to get out of tutoring?” You asked, but he noticed that your voice didn't hold any edge to it, another red flag that you were probably a lot more exhausted than you let on.

“I'm not, I promise,” he held his arms up in surrender, “I'll go over the material and do the assignment myself. You can check it over next week!” 

A moment of silence passed before you relented, placing the planner back in your bag with a sigh, “Okay, but the three mistake rule still stands. Got it?”

Jisung smiled, “Got it,” he said, grabbing his bag and standing up, “I won't let you down after all the help you've given me.” 

“You really think this is helpful?” The surprise in your words spilled out despite your best attempts to keep your mask of passivity. Fuck, it was always Jisung that made you like this. Any other person would tried to tear down your mental walls, only for you to build them up twice as high and twice as thick. But Jisung--Jisung just walked past them like they didn't even exist.

“Um, yeah? My grades literally went from C’s to B’s and A’s because of you!” Jisung exclaimed, practically offended for your sake at the mere thought of your question, “If that isn't helpful, then what is?” 

A dry chuckle left your lips as the two of you walked out of the library, “That isn't what I meant. Normally, people would say that I'm a bit...harsh? Overbearing? Un-fun?” 

Jisung bit his lip, his eyes rounding with a mix of realization and guilt as he saw the expression on your face. You probably didn't even notice it as you looked up into the sky, but he could see it as clear as day. A bittersweetness that looked a bit like hurt, but it wasn't quite either. 

So you did know of what people said about you, and it did affect you. The guilt festered in his chest as Jisung came to the painful realization that he was part of that group of judging before knowing only a few weeks before. 

“Um!” Jisung blurted out rather clumsily, grabbing your attention as you turned to face him, “You're a good teacher. Y-yeah, sometimes you can be a bit strict, but people should know that you do it only because you want them to succeed!” 

A moment of awkward silence passed between the two of you, and Jisung was about to disappear into the ground when you let out a giggle, covering your mouth with the back of your hand and failing to hide your amusement. 

You laughed. You laughed because of him. You were smiling because of him. Jisung held your expression, your moment of happiness, close to his heart, and he wanted nothing more than to see it again. 

“Thank you, Jisung,” you said after your giggles died and you stood before him, a bit of distance still between the two of you even though it wasn't quite as tense or awkward as before, “That means a lot to me, really.” 

Jisung’s face lit up, and he nodded, “And I really mean what I said! I wouldn't have gotten so much better without you.” 

Your cheeks felt unusually warm in the chilly evening, and you realized that you should probably make your escape soon before you found yourself falling more and more for this boy who wore his heart on his sleeve. 

“Well, thank you again,” you said sincerely, clutching the strap of your book bag as you gave him a smile, already beginning to turn away, “I’m gonna head home, so I guess I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

Jisung felt the joy in his heart stutter a bit at the way you turned to glance down the road you were about to take, and his mouth worked before his brain, “Wait! I could give you a ride!” He blurted out before wanting nothing more than to bonk himself in the head.

“Oh?” You turned back around to face him as you crossed your arms, “You drive?”

“Uh, I have a bike, which is still faster than walking,” Jisung supplied the follow up information rather unhelpfully, but it made you smile nonetheless, “And you live close to Seungmin’s family bakery, right? I live right around there, too.”

There wasn’t much about that offer that you could really refuse, and you found yourself not wanting to anyway. You were still pretty exhausted and you were already dreading the walk back home. 

And besides, a little extra time with Han Jisung never hurt anyone except for your poor heart, which was beginning to grow tired of fighting your obvious attraction for this boy. 

“Alright,” you said, shifting your bag strap higher up your shoulder as you gestured, “lead the way.” 

The ride was quite silent, but neither of you minded. If anything, you enjoyed the silence, and Jisung knew you enjoyed it, so he didn’t bother to pry or start conversation. With your hands resting on his shoulders for balance as you sat behind him on what was normally the basket rack, and with the sky loosing its pinkish tones and exchanging them for the dark blues and purples of night, everything felt strangely perfect and--dare you say it--romantic. 

When you finally told Jisung to stop in the front of a house just a couple buildings down from Seungmin’s bakery, the air between the two of you had shifted somehow. It wasn’t a big change; you weren’t suddenly head over heels in love with him and he wasn’t suddenly filled with the urge to kiss you like they do in shoujo mangas, but there was a comfortable and mutual sense of affection for one another that didn’t need any pushing or rushing from either side. The two of you just...knew it somehow. 

“Thanks for the ride,” you said, your voice soft as you swung your leg off and found yourself next to the bike, face to face with Jisung. 

“Don’t mention it,” he smiled, leaning against the handle of his bike in a way that made him look deviously adorable. You bit your lip, hesitating for a second before reaching up with your fingers and giving his soft cheeks a light squish.

Huh, they were even softer than you’d imagined they would be. 

Jisung’s eyes grew as wide as saucers, which snapped you out of your daze as you quickly pulled your hand away and cleared your throat awkwardly. 

“Don’t forget to go over today’s chapter when you get home,” you said, trying to mask your embarrassment and keep your voice steady as you gave him one last smile before rushing into your house, fumbling a bit with the keys when you pulled them out of your bag.

Jisung stood in front of your house for a moment longer, his eyes dazed with surprise as he reached up to rub his cheek. Fuck, if you mess around with him like this any more, he’d be head over heels in love with you before the semester even ended. 

And as Jisung biked back home, he didn’t even care that he actually lived in the opposite direction and he’d lied a bit in order to make sure you got back safe. Your smiles, your laughter, and your gentle retaliation for his earlier pinch of your cheek made it all worth it. 

Jisung thought he had the cutest cheeks in the world, but he was pretty satisfied with being second best now. 

[raineydays411]

So warm and tender

Tony Stark x Daughter!reader

A/n: Hello! finally the last part of Ember. I hope you guys like it and sorry for making y’all wait so long for the confrontation lol)

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

Y/n’s POV

“Aunt Pam?!” you say in shock as you stop struggling against the vine wrapped around your body.

“Y/n, is it really you?” your aunt said as the vine loosened its grip and gently lowered you on the ground. “ Where have you been? Everyone has been going crazy looking for you”

You don’t answer as you look at your aunt. You didn’t realise you missed her as much as you did but now all you want to do is throw yourself in her arms. So you did.Pam, sensing you needed comfort rather than an interrogation, wrapped her arms around you. “I missed so much my Petal.” 

With those five words, all the hurt and pain you bottled up came out. and you cried.

As you cried, your aunt looked at the girl she hasn’t seen in eight years, and wondered what she’s been going through and if she did the right thing by giving you to your father all those years ago.

“Petal, I think you need to explain what’s going on”

You look up and sniff, “ Yeah, i think an explanation is well in order.” and you tell her everything. From the years of being ignored by your father, your last argument, the two weeks you spent in captivity, and your new powers. 

“ And that’s when I found you.” You finish looking at the grim faces of Pam and the other woman, who now that you think about it looks really familiar. 

“Oh, you poor puddin’!” you found your face being squished between two ands and then you were comically pressed against a body in a tight hug. 

“Don’tcha worry bout a thing, me and Pammy will take care of everything, you just sit here and---”  This seems familiar...

“ Harley, I don’t think she can breathe.” “Oh right, now you remember, it the blonde woman who used to sneak into the apartment”. You think to yourself as you struggle to get loose from her grip. You hear someone snicker and see Danny looking at the commotion. 

“ Shut up Danny, where have you been?” You say, forgetting that you’re the only one who can see him. 

“Exploring, do you thing she could hug me like that too?” 

“ If you weren’t already dead, I’m sure they would kill you for that comment”

Pam and Harley look at each other in concern as it seems like you’re talking to yourself. 

“ Hey kid, if you’re gonna talk to yourself, try an’ do it when other people can’t see you, like me.”  The blonde says as if someone talking to themselves was a daily occurrence for her.  You explain that with your powers, you were basically dead and can speak and see other dead people. Hearing that, Pam’s expression darkened

“He let you die?” she said in a grim tone. All the vines and plants in the room started whipping around angrily as if they were looking for the person who wronged you. It was then when you realized it wasn’t your Auntie Pam who taught you how to plant petunias you were looking at, this was Poison Ivy. 

“ Men, you can never trust em’. Well, whadda say little flower, ya up for a little premeditated murder?” and that was the infamous Harley Quinn. 

“ It would’ve been nice to know that you’re related to scary criminals y/n....” Danny said in a fearful voice. And if you were being honest you just found out that your aunt Pam was also the Poison Ivy but to be fair you haven’t seen her since you were like eight. 

“I don’t want to kill him” you finally say. “ I don’t want anything to do with him. Nor his precious Spiderling.” The plants calm down as Ivy calmed down and was your aunt Pam again. “ What do you want to do?” she asks.

You think to yourself and say,” I want him to know how he made me feel, and then I want to stay with you.”  Your aunt and Harley froze when you said that. 

“Petal, there is nothing I want more than for you to stay with me again,” She started, “ But it isn’t safe for you to stay.” Your eyes started to water

“But I-I have powers now, I can defend myself! I won’t be any trouble, it’ll be like I’m not even here” At this point, anything was better than going back to being invisible. “Please...I don’t want to go back...” 

Hearing the desperation in your voice broke Pams, Harleys, and Danny's heart. Pam because this was the daughter of her closest friend. She vowed to protect you from anything the day you came to her after losing your mother. Seeing you like this just reminded her how she, in her mind, has failed you. Seeing you so desperate to get away from the man who broke your heart reminded Harley of herself. The nights she would sneak into the tiny apartment you shared with Pammy, in hopes of escape only to get drawn back with empty promises. So yeah, she had a small soft spot for you. And Danny, you were the only person who saw him after months of being invisible. He felt like he needed to help you in your mission to get your father regret ignoring you.

“Hey Pammy...maybe we should call him...” Harley started to suggest. 

“NO, I’d rather drink weed killer than go to that...orphan collector for help.” the red head spat. “ No. We’ll figure it out but she can stay here for now.”

Hearing that you had a place to call home now, gave you the motivation to go and confront your father. Not only for ignoring you, but for leaving you in that..cell for two weeks. He didn’t even attempt to look for you as far as you knew. You’d have thought at least one of the other Avengers would have came to save you. But no one came. After all those years, no one came.

“Y/n.. your eyes” Danny whispered, his cold hand touching your arm snapped you out of your mind. The neon glow of your eyes faded to your normal e/c. 

“ Aunt Pam, Harley is there any way you guys can get me to New York and back?” You ask, finally ready to confront your father. 

“ Well....” Harley say as with a smirk

~~~~~~~~~one terrifying ride on a stolen batplane later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Upon arriving to New York you made Pam and Harley wait a few blocks away from the tower, as you really didn’t want the Avengers to find out your aunt was a wanted criminal. You “went ghost” as Danny like to call it and snuck into the Tower with ease. You then snuck into your room, seeing everything covered in a layer of dust as no one has been in there for over two weeks. You packed a bag and filled it with some clothes, books and a picture of you and your mother. You took that bag and walked to the door, looking around at the room that was both you prison and safe space. It was decorated with multiple trophies, medals, and ribbons all from the multiple sports and clubs you joined to impress your father. Not like that ever happened. Danny wander around looking at the multiple teams photos you had hung up.

“ You’re a volleyball girl?” he said, “ Huh. I’d never have had guessed.” 

You rolled your eyes as you finished packing. “ Hey I have a job for you.” you say turning to him. “ I need you to go to the control room and turn off the power for thirty minutes. Then turn it back on and come find me in the common room.”

“ Yes ma’am�� Danny says, saluting and disappearing through the wall before he comes back. “Ummm, wheres the control room?” 

You roll your eyes and explain how to get to the control room and wait. When the lights go out and you’ll make your move. Your father would have to pass through the common room to get to the control room from his lab, which you assume he’ll be. There you’ll be waiting for him. 

The lights go out. It’s showtime.

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

Tony's POV

The team spent three more days searching for you. They followed every lead and half of the team even flew out to the building that collapsed an hour ago. Tony, Steve, and Natasha stood behind to look at more clues. It was a little past midnight, and both Steve and Natasha went to bed leaving Tony to tinker in his lab. Tony was making improvements to a certain spider suit as he thought about what his daughter said to him before she went missing.

“Sir, there seems to be someone in Y/--” FRIDAY started to say when the power cut out.

“FRIDAY??” Tony questioned as he walked out to check the control room, making sure to get his nano bracelet just incase. As he walked down the hallway he thought about waking up Steve and if he was brave enough to wake Natasha when he heard it.

“Hi daddy.”

Tony stopped dead in his tracks as he looked up in disbelief. The lights turned back on to reveal his daughter. Wearing a black halter top, spandex leggings, grey boots with elbow length gloves. She looked skinny, as if she hadn’t had a proper meal in the weeks she was gone. And for some reason the air was cold in the room. But there she stood.

‘Y/n” Tony said breathlessly. 

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

Y/n pov

As you wait for Tony to walk in,you look around the common room and reminisce. You think about the time when you first moved in, and you got lost trying to find the bathroom and accidently walked into Natashas room. YOu thought she was going to kill you but ended up walking you to the restroom and back to your room. Or when you made the volleyball team way back in eighth grade, and you ran home to tell your dad but ended up telling the whole team, who were rarely all together, and they all took you out to get ice cream, minus Tony. You had to admit, even though your dad didn’t pay attention to you, Nat and Steve did. As well as the whole team, but those two really became the parental figures in your life. That’s why it hurt when not even they came for you. Even they had forgotten you.

“Hi daddy” you said in a mocking voice. Your father stopped dead in his tracks, as he looked you over in disbelief.

“Y/n”, he said in a breathless voice. 

“Oh, you remember my name?” You say in an sarcastic tone. “ Didn’t seem like you did when you left me in a hydra cell for two weeks.” 

Hearing that you were a prisoner of Hydra made Tony’s blood freeze. 

“Hydra? Oh Y/N are you okay? What did they do to you?” He asked frantically as he walk towards you with the intent of checking if you were injured. You jerk away from him, avoiding his touch and say

“ Oh, I’m wonderful. Just so fucking fantastic. I was just experimented on and injected with various liquids that caused excruciating pain. No big deal” 

“ Y/n..we spent days trying to look for you. Me and the team--”

“You and the team what Tony? I was there for two weeks. TWO WEEKS I WAS POKED AND PRODDED. I THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO DIE.” You scream, anger filling your heart as you remember the agony you went through. You think about the scratches on the wall of the cells, the taunts from the guards, and screams of the undead.

“ You have no idea what I went through. What I’m going through.” You say, feeling your body grow colder as you lose control and start to shift. “ You don’t care about me. If I were Parker, you would have saved mem within SECONDS.”

“That's not true. Y/N you have no idea how much I love you.” Tony tries to say. He’s filled with the need to tell you everything he didn’t tell you before. “I know I haven’t always been the best father. Trust me I know that now. But if you give me a chance, I want to make everything right. Please.” 

You didn’t think it would go like this. In fact you were not at all prepared for Tony to say this. You expected to walk in on him continuing his life as normal, tinkering in his lab and such. You had always yearned to hear him say those words to you. But now, they just fill you with anger.

“You think you could just tell me what I want to hear and what? I’ll just act like nothing happened?? I know you’re not that stupid.” You spit, the room growing colder as you get angrier. “ It’s too late for all that Tony. I’m not the same girl i was two weeks ago.i won;t take it any longer.” 

“Y/n..your eyes” Tony says as he slowly starts to put his gauntlet bracelet on, realising that you are becoming a threat. 

“ Oh do you like them?”, You ask “ This is what happened when they injected me. I can also do this.” You shift, shades of blue taking over brown skin. Tony stared at you in awe and a bit of fear. 

“ Y/n this isn’t you. I know you’re angry but--” “ Isn’t me?” You interrupt.” You don’t know me. You don’t know what I’m like. And even if you did the old me died in that cell. Literally I died” You and Tony stared at each other. and that's when you heard the doors open. Two sets of footsteps started rushing to the commotion. 

“Y/N some red head and beefy blonde are on their way” You hear Danny say as you realize you had to wrap it up. If anyone can convince you to stay, it’s Steve and Nat.

“ It doesn’t matter anymore Tony.” you say as you start walking to the window. “ I can’t stay here anymore. There’s nothing for me. You win. Peter can be the child you always wanted cause from now on, consider me dead.” and with that, you phase threw the window and let yourself fall, knowing that you won’t actually fall as you can fly. 

Tony freaks out and calls for his suit, only to see a blue blur shoot up and across the sky. Then he just sits there and stares. The footsteps reach the common room and he hears someone ask 

“ Stark..what was all the yelling. What's going on?” 

“she's gone” He says, and that's when he truly realizes his mistake. He became what he never wanted to become. He became his father. And now you were gone.

Taglist: @vxidsti1es @big-galaxy-chaos

[seasonofthewicth]

nobody does it like you do - act 1

I'm finally back with some more rowaelin! I started this fic in november last year and wrote the first 10k in 24 hours, but from then on this fic was a struggle... Thank you so, so much to @morganofthewildfire for sharing so much of your time to help me with this, this fic would not be here without you 💗 I'm so happy to have finally finished it and can share it on here. I hope you enjoy

CW: past drug abuse, minor character death, violence

7.7k - masterlist - ao3

--

When her agent sends her the script it’s not the first time she’s heard of Rowan Whitethorn, his name is written at the top under the heading director, which itself is under the big red text reading confidential. He’s been at this stuff for a while now, directed a couple of movies that popped up on her radar but that nothing ever came of for her, and he’s well known in the business.

He was even nominated for an Oscar a couple of years ago, and she watched the ceremony with Lysandra, slapping the bills into her outstretched hand when he didn’t win.

His movie had been far too fucking raw for him to have won, she knew that, a tale about a group of kids who witnessed a murder and how it stayed with them and fucked them up into adulthood, but it had stuck with her nonetheless and she’d put her money on him anyway.

She reads the section of script Dorian has sent her, tucked up in bed with a glass of sparkling water and her most comfortable sweater, leaning back into the mountain of expensive pillows she had Elide buy for her and pondering how so much money could end up so uncomfortable, and she knows it’s something special.

She realises she wants this role, almost to an uncomfortable degree, when she’s about five lines in. The heroine is bratty and rash, but serious and pained in a way that makes her completely fleshed out and Aelin wants to play her, wants to be her and embody her in a way that takes her out of the pit she’s in.

She hopes this could be what gets her out of it.

Aedion had tried to pull her out, gods bless him, dropping by her apartment every morning for weeks to check up on her with a coffee in his hand, topped with cream and two sugars the way he knows she likes. Each morning he let himself in with her spare key, the one she gave to him the day she moved in, wanting him to be able to let himself in whenever he wanted but also knowing there was no one else she wanted to give it to.

She would have given it to Sam, would have given everything to Sam, but he’s gone and she’s left sitting here, wondering how to salvage what’s left of her reputation.

What reputation she had even managed to build after starring in one mediocre TV show and a handful of low-budget movies. She knows deep down, and in a way her brain likes to remind her of when she’s at her lowest, that the main reason she isn’t a complete nobody is because she’s Evalin Ashryver’s daughter. Her therapist tells her every time she bothers to go to a session that having a famous mother doesn’t mean she’s a failure and that she has to recognise each of her successes as her own. She nods along every time, but she doesn’t believe her. What has she managed to accomplish truly on her own?

It hasn’t been made public yet that Rowan Whitethorn is involved in the film, she only knows because Chaol wrote the whole script himself and texted her to let her know when he signed on to direct. She’s known Chaol since she was eighteen and took her first solo trip to Rifthold, drawn to the lights of the big city and the almost magnetic pull of the heart of the industry. He’d stumbled upon her in a club she was far too young to be in and had pulled her out, sending her home in a cab that he paid for. Looking back she was grateful for his attempt to avoid what she knew later was an inevitability.

She had cursed him when he told her she’d still have to audition, but she gets it. She hasn’t exactly behaved in a way recently that makes people want to take a chance on her.

Stumbling out of clubs, eyes as wide as saucers and high as a fucking kite isn’t the kind of star casting directors are desperate to hire, but she’s trying to be better. She’s promised those around her that she’ll be better, and she knows that the only reason she hasn’t ended up in rehab is that she has an incredible therapist and a highly persuasive manner of dealing with her friends and family. The only reason they’ve taken that chance on her is time, and she’s grateful for that mercy.

She turns the page, hitting the final line for the third time. Chaol’s script is so good she’s read the few pages she’s been sent over and over.

She only reads scripts in physical copies, takes the time to print them out using her shitty printer that belongs right back in 2008, and she knows it’s wasteful but she allows herself that small luxury of the crisp paper in her hand as she delves into each new world. Her character is in the middle of a teary monologue that she knows exactly how she’d do, the way she’d halt her breath and choke out the words-- it’s not her character. Yet.

The audition is next week, and she’ll work her ass off to make sure she’s ready. Her usual pre-audition ritual involves taking up far too much of Lysandra’s time to practice reading the lines and filming herself time after time, take after take, and watching it back in the unholy hours of night until she’s happy she’s made an improvement.

Or at least that’s how she used to do it, nothing has made her want a role like this in a long while. She worries as she bites her lip, that wanting something this much means she’s getting over Sam. That maybe one day she won’t think of him and hear the pounding in her ears, won’t feel the lightheadedness that comes with a memory of their time together. Worries that if she forgets the sounds of his screams she’s failing him somehow.

She takes another sip of her sparkling water. It’s poured into a wine glass so she can at least pretend she’ll get the relaxation she craves. Alcohol was never one of her vices but she finds it’s better to be safe than sorry. It’s unhealthy as far as coping mechanisms go, but she’s been worse so it’s going down as a win.

Chaol told her some guy called Brullo is casting this one. She’s never heard of him, which is kind of rare. She’s been on the periphery of this bubble for pretty much her entire life, following her mother around her own movie sets and sitting on the wooden directors chair when her legs still dangled off the side, but if he’s like any other casting director in Adarlan she knows how to impress him.

When she reaches the last line of the part of the script she’s been sent, her mind wanders again to Rowan Whitethorn.

He’s the kind of director up and coming actors can only hope to one day work with, even though she’s pretty sure he can’t be much more than thirty, he’s built himself to a level where he can be choosy with his projects.

It's a well deserved privilege. Each of his works has stayed with her after watching, his style is gritty and dark, but grounded in a way that leaves her empty each time after finishing.

She wants this, and she buries the guilt she feels for that. Sam would want her to want this. She deserves it, or at least she hopes she can come to.

Dorian books her a mid-morning flight so she doesn’t have to wake too early before the audition, he’s a damn good agent and one she definitely doesn’t deserve with his seemingly endless patience, but she’s continuously grateful for him.

Aelin styles herself for it, ties her hair back and leaves the makeup to a minimum in a way that she hopes shows them she’s right for the part, that she can be the insecure little girl who experiences far too much. She knows she doesn’t have the sheltered innocence the character has, but she’s an actress and this is what she does. Aelin pretends for a living.

He’s also booked her a room in a pretty nice hotel for the night, she’s not sure whether he’s used her meagre acting funds or the funds from the account she knows he mom throws money into every month. It’s an argument she and Evalin have had repeatedly, she wants to stand on her own two feet, but she never protests too hard. The account kept the roof over her head when she was too busy snorting her life away to consider where her next paycheck would come from.

Aelin throws herself backwards into the crisp white bedding on the hotel room bed and takes a deep breath. The only luggage she brought with her is a carry on slung somewhere by the door and the room feels too empty to sit here and wait for the car that’s arriving to take her to the studio in just over an hour. If she sits here and waits the nerves will only build, and then she’ll itch for something to take the edge off.

She picks her phone up to text her cousin.

Jet lag from a 2 hour flight. Who would have thought?

Aelin waits two minutes for a reply, locking and unlocking her phone as she sits there, but one doesn’t come. Aedion’s probably at a training session and not checking his phone. Aelin runs a hand through her hair, careful not to dislodge the pins she placed carefully in it this morning, she needs to stop using him as her crutch. She knows he doesn’t mind, but it’s not right either way.

She needs to get out of this room.

The streets of Rifthold are busy and crammed as she meanders down them, clutching the takeout coffee cup she bought from a vendor with a stall at the side of the road.

People pay her no mind as she walks, the oversized shades hide her eyes that she knows are a dead giveaway for her membership of the Ashryver line. Even if she didn’t wear them, everybody else here wants to be someone, and so far she can still blend in if she tries.

She sends a text to the assistant organising the audition, it’s kind of shitty of her but she keeps it brief because she can’t remember their name, letting them know the car isn’t needed anymore and that she’ll make her own way there. She needs the stroll through the streets to clear her head.

Aelin needs to nail it. She hasn’t felt the twisting of desire so sharp in her stomach for a long time and the only way she’ll manage it is with a clear head.

She alternates her breathing with sips of her coffee, the taste is bitter but she keeps drinking. She pulls her phone out to check the directions to the studio.

Spontaneous isn’t a word Aelin would use to describe herself anymore, any longing to go with the flow died the minute she lost control. It’s safer now to plan, to make sure she won’t lead herself astray.

Brullo is a man in his mid forties, with dashes of grey seasoned through his muddy brown hair, and kind lines around his eyes as he smiles and shakes her hand. Aelin wipes the sweat off her palm on her jeans before clasping her hand in his.

The audition goes about as well as she can hope for, she remembers every line, and the other casting director is fairly natural reading the lines for her to act against. Aelin swallows back her tears after she finishes, trying to keep what dignity she can to end the audition when there’s snot threatening to run down her upper lip. It was a brutal scene to start with, but if she can pull this off she can surely manage the rest.

Brullo’s expression is carefully guarded as she leaves, giving nothing away, but Aelin thinks she did a good job, which is all she could have ever hoped for.

She’s staring at the tiled floor, mulling over Brullo’s parting words, thanks Aelin, our people will be in touch, when she hits something hard and warm.

She’s too busy dissecting those eight words to register exactly who it is with their hands clamped around the top of her arms, steadying her as she stumbles, but she looks up and her gaze meets that of a pair of striking, green eyes.

The man gripping her is easily over a head taller than her, broad and strong enough that she fights back the shiver that wants to roll through her at his touch. He’s staring down at her, the strong planes of his face drawn into a deep frown, with his strangely coloured eyebrows pulled in.

They’re a kind of silver that matches his short cut hair, and it shines in the fluorescent light of the hallway in a way that it can only be natural, but she’s never seen a shade quite like it.

“Sorry,” she manages to stutter out, still thrown from the vulnerability of her audition.

“It’s alright.” His voice burns through the words, his accent rolling in a way that raises hairs down the back of her neck. He flashes her a dangerous grin and she steadies herself. She knows what that look means. She’s used to the male attention, and as much as she hates to acknowledge it, she knows her looks are an element of how she’s got as far as she has. That and her family’s name.

The decision of whether to register in the guild as Aelin Ashryver or Aelin Galathynius was one she had spent hours deliberating over. Did she want the level of independence Galathynius would give her, or the reputation being an Ashryver would bring?

The man releases his grip on her shoulders, but not before running his hands down her arms until he reaches her wrists which he releases with a light squeeze. She takes an almost imperceptible step back, leaning back to breathe some air into her lungs. All she ends up doing is filling her mind with this man’s smell, inviting and intoxicating, a delicious combination of pine trees and snowy winter mornings.

“I don’t usually go around slamming into people like this,” she tells him, letting some of her snark slip through. He’s said two words to her so far but she knows he can take it, and she wants to play.

His grin becomes even more wicked and it truly is a sight to see. This man is built like a god; broad, muscular shoulders stretching the white button up he wears and she spies the dark lines of a tattoo threatening to slip past his collar.

It’s been a couple of months since her last mindless hook-up, and this man would more than do. The mischief glimmering in his eyes tells her he’d know how to make her gasp and beg.

“Slam into me anytime.” His words are a sensual croon and her mouth drops open slightly, but he sidesteps her before she can manage to speak again, nodding towards the door she’s come through. “Good luck with whatever you were here for.”

With that he’s gone, leaving her to turn and watch the way his grey slacks pull against his thighs as he walks away from her.

Aelin tries not to think too much about the outcome of the audition, and flies back to Orynth in economy class with a sleep mask tucked over her eyes lest she be recognised when all she wants to do is curl up in bed and be alone for a bit. That or get fucking wasted, and she can’t do that.

She tries far too hard to forget about the man from the hallway, forget about the way his voice had rumbled deep in her chest and the tug in her belly that his words had sent through her.

She begs Elide to come to a bar with her, and she agrees. Aelin needs to pay her more, maybe change her title from publicist to publicist-come-part-time-therapist-and-life-saver. Aelin’s not sure she has the budget for that really.

Elide would smack her if she knew Aelin’s thoughts. Would scold her for looking at Elide just like an employee as if they weren’t childhood friends and Elide hadn’t been there holding her hand through the whole Sam thing. As if she, Lysandra and Aedion hadn’t been her only reason for being here now.

A bar might be a risk, but she can sip her sparkling water while she browses the small selection of men that Orynth has to offer.

She enjoys the easy conversation she has with Elide, chatting about what their friends have been up to, even though most of them are mainly Elide’s friends at this point. After Sam she stopped speaking to everyone but those who were necessary. She couldn’t manage any more than that.

“You should come with us next time,” Elide is saying as she sips her own lemonade. Aelin knows Elide would normally choose a crisp glass of white wine over a lemonade and her sobriety solidarity touches her heart.

“Maybe,” she shrugs, noncommittal.

The look Elide wears tells her she’s debating pushing the issue for the millionth time against the risk that Aelin would pull back again. She hates that she does this to her friends so she sighs.

“Text me next time,” she tries. “I’ll see if I’m free.”

Elide offers her a thankful smile, and Aelin returns it, trying to tell herself this is what she needs and that she shouldn’t just stay locked up thinking about Sam.

There’s a dark haired guy at the bar catching her eye, his jeans are far too tight and his shirt is ridiculous, but she can see the body beneath and his face is striking. Elide notices her stare and smirks.

She likely knows why Aelin invited her out tonight, but doesn’t mind. Lorcan’s probably waiting for her at the home they share, waiting for her to come back so they can be in love. Aelin hates the bastard, except she doesn’t. She introduced her friend to the tall, dark and grouchy hockey player at the wrap party for the shit teen movie she did a couple of years back, and she’s big enough to admit she wants what they have.

She had what they have.

What’s left in her glass slips down her throat easily in one mouthful and she promises to text Elide tomorrow before slipping out of the booth and over to the guy at the bar.

“You going to just stare at me all night?” She asks with a sly smile. “Or did you plan on doing something about it at some point?”

His smile makes him look even more attractive.

“Maybe I was waiting for you to make the first move, a beautiful girl like you can be intimidating.”

It’s a shit line and she rolls her eyes, but tugs him into a cab back to her place anyway.

“Please.” Her voice shakes as she begs. “Please don’t do this.”

The man in front of them scoffs and Sam squeezes her hand, his palm rough against her own.

“Aelin, baby. It’s okay, just do what he says.”

He lets go of her hand and turns back to the guy in front of them. His face is covered by a black mask, only two slits show her the dark brown of his eyes. She can barely look away from the knife he holds out in front of himself, it’s pointed at Sam but that doesn’t make her feel any better, it makes her feel worse in fact.

“Your wallet,” the guy demands.

Tears are rolling down her cheeks, fat and hot, as she fishes around in her bag for her purse.

“Just dump the whole thing,” the guy growls, irritated, but she’s pretty sure she’s going into shock and she can’t focus. Can’t breathe.

Sam’s voice is steady by her side as he throws his own wallet onto the street in front of them.

“Alright, man. We’re doing everything you say.”

“Hands up.” The mugger’s voice is sharp. “Don’t fucking move.”

She raises her arms straight in the air, trying to control the way her hands are shaking and the attacker ducks down to grab their things.

She lets out a tiny whimper and feels Sam spin to her, his eyes begging her to trust him. No, she shakes her head.

“I said don’t fucking move,” the guy yells and lunges for Sam.

His scream cuts the night air and she whirls, hands dropping into the air between them as he drops to the ground. The mugger takes off, sprinting down the empty street and she falls to her knees by Sam’s side.

In the dark, the pool spilling out across the floor by Sam’s side just looks black, but she knows that really it’s red. She’s not stupid. His face is twisted in pain and her hands flutter around his torso before she manages to pull back the flap of his jacket.

There’s a hole in his white t-shirt and now her jeans are wet where she kneels.

She needs her phone, needs to call someone who can make this all better, but her phone is gone.

She presses her hands against his side and his eyes shutter closed as he gasps. His breathing is stuttered and uneven.

“Sam. Sam, no,” she cries. “I’ll get help. You’re okay.”

“Aelin.” He raises a hand to press against her cheek, and the blood on it is sticky and warm.

“No, Sam. No, stay with me.”

The scream that tears through her throat will hurt tomorrow but now she barely feels it. “HELP!”

His breathing becomes much quicker as she presses on his side and screams again.

She knows abstractly that she’s crying, tears and snot streaming down her face as she desperately presses her hands against his side.

There’s a strong arm around her waist, tugging her back and away from Sam, and she screams one word over and over.

“No, no, no, no.”

There are people here now, leaning over Sam, leaning over his body.

“NO.”

Aelin gasps as she launches up in her bed. The sheets are stuck to her clammy skin and her head flies to the side. The guy is gone, the side of the bed he occupied when she fell asleep now cold. Good.

She lives it over and over in her dreams, sees the dark street more often than not, feels the phantom warmth of his blood down her legs. Wakes screaming herself hoarse just as she did that night. She doesn’t normally let people stay the night. Even when Aedion tried for the first few weeks after the fact, she couldn’t sleep, couldn’t turn her brain off for even a second. Every time she closed her eyes she was back on that street, begging and pleading for him to open his eyes.

She grasps at her side for the switch of her bedside lamp and flicks it on. Her room is cold and empty and she hasn’t had it in her to decorate past the basics so it’s plain and impersonal when she looks around, trying to calm her breathing.

She checks the time. 6:25am. Not bad, she must have managed about six hours of sleep last night, and it’s more than she usually gets.

There're a few texts waiting in her inbox, including one from Elide, and she expects it to be a request to let her know that she got home safe but it’s not.

Call me as soon as you wake up.

Sent at 6:02am. Elide is a chronic overworker, no matter how much Aelin begs her to stick to a 9 to 5 schedule, but she couldn't imagine her friend any other way. The smiling emoji at the end of the text lets her know it’s nothing she needs to panic about, so she takes a moment to scroll through her other messages. It’s unusual for her to wake up to so many.

She clicks on her conversation with Dorian, the only message she can see, his most recent one, just says Aelin. He has sent her nine messages while she slept, and she scrolls up to reach the first one.

Aelin, you did it. You booked the Rowan Whitethorn movie.

Her heart pounds in her chest, running into overdrive as she processes the words on her screen.

She got the part. She fucking did it.

This is one of those moments she knows she’ll remember.

Dorian has forwarded over a number of contracts and official things but she ignores them in favour of dialling Elide’s number.

“Aelin!” Her friend’s voice is breathy when she answers. “Congratulations, I knew you could do it.”

“Thanks, El.” A pause where she takes a deep breath in. “I can’t believe it.”

She falls back onto her mattress, pressing a fist to her lips as she smiles, eyes closed, almost giddy as she listens to her friend talk.

“They’re putting a press release out today at 12:30, announcing you and the male lead, who I haven’t found out yet but I will.”

“Oh my gods,” she sighs, covering her eyes with a clammy hand.

“I know,” Elide laughs.

She allows herself one tear as she stares up at the white of her ceiling.

This is big, she can feel it.

Later her phone buzzes as Elide sends her links to two different articles breaking the news.

Fenrys Moonbeam and Aelin Ashryver to star in new Chaol Westfall drama. More to follow.

Rowan Whitethorn signs on to direct The Crescent City, the latest project from Chaol Westfall (Throne of Glass, The King’s Hand & more).

She presses the phone to her chest as she lets out a sigh of relief.

It all moves pretty quickly from that point.

She’s on a plane back to Rifthold the next day and Chaol has sent over the whole script for her to read on the plane, bypassing Dorian completely even though that’s how it normally goes and she knows the two are like brothers.

Chaol was the one to introduce her to Dorian, and they kind of took her under their showbiz wings in the first few years she began to get really serious about acting.

They gave her the inside scoop, having been in the industry for a few more years than her. Chaol writing and making movies and Dorian doing all the background stuff like contracts and negotiations and exposure. They took her to their wrap parties that everyone knows are just networking events and introduced her to some of the big names in the industry without so much as batting an eyelid, and she knows she owes them a lot.

The script is phenomenal, and she has to try and hide the tears that form when she reaches the end, it probably wouldn’t be the best start to the project, being photographed crying on the plane on the way to start shooting. It really is some of Chaol’s best work, and she sends him a text when she lands that says fuck you, I hate it, but his reply lets her know he knows she’s joking.

It tells the story of her character, Feyre, and how she’s dragged into selling drugs to pay for her mom’s hospital bills. Along the way she meets Fenrys Moonbeam’s character, Rhysand, the glowering bad-boy who’s well established in the gang and together they see some shit and do some shit but manage to get out together. The topics are kind of cliché and over done, but Chaol has managed to add a level of originality to it that makes it really special.

It’s heavier on the romance than Rowan Whitethorn’s previous projects, but it’s gritty enough that she can see why he’s signed on. It’s going to be hard, she knows this, and it will really push her to her limits trying to embody the range of emotions her character goes through. But she wants it, and she will make her performance incredible if it fucking kills her.

There’s a niggling part of her brain that reminds her that she’s surrounded by some big names on this project, names that are big for a reason, and she can’t let them hiring her be a mistake.

She sends Chaol a follow up text, wtf are these names btw???

He ignores her.

When she’s in the car taking her to the apartment the studio is renting out for her while they film she decides to take a little trip through Instagram and look up her new co-star. Fenrys is a household name by now, a couple of years in after his debut, but it can’t hurt to know a little more about her leading man.

f.moonbeam01 comes up as the first option when the types the three letters f e n into the search bar and he has over eleven million followers.

Shit.

Not that she needs a reminder but it slaps her in the face that this is actually big. Aelin only has a few thousand followers herself and Elide has already told her to prepare herself for that to rise.

His Instagram is a mixture of mostly photos of himself, some selfies and some professional shots, and he’s obviously gorgeous. His deep brown complexion playing well against his golden curls with a straight strong nose and flawless white teeth. He’s definitely leading man material, and she can tell just how charming his grin is even through a screen.

There are also promo pictures for all the movies he’s involved in at the moment, there are at least three projects he has coming out this year. Damn.

His most recent picture is a screenshot of the article announcing their casting, and he’s actually tagged her in the photo along with Rowan himself. She hasn’t seen the tag until now, it’s normally Elide’s job as her publicist to tackle the professional side to her social media, but there’s 6.4 million likes on the photo.

Again, shit.

She can’t help herself from clicking onto Rowan’s account, rowanwhitethorn is a pretty simple handle. He only has 27 posts, most of them are behind the scenes shots from projects, one with his classic director’s chair that has his surname printed across the back in thick white lettering, and a few pictures of different cameras and pieces of equipment.

There’s only one picture of him on there, and it’s from 2017. He has his back to the camera and the sunset behind him lends a shadow that covers all of his features. Very artsy she muses to herself as she double taps the screen to like it, he probably won’t see anyway, the notification will probably get lost in the ones his account no doubt gets from his 2 million followers. The only thing she can gather from the photo about his physical appearance is that he has pretty broad shoulders.

She’s tempted to google him, wanting to know what he looks like, but she feels a bit too much like a stalker, and she knows she’ll meet him in a couple of days anyway so she leaves it and pulls up her emails to reply to the seemingly endless list of forms she has to fill out and send back to Dorian.

The apartment she’s living in for the next few months is modern and airy, with clean lines and bright decor. Aelin likes it, and while it’s not hers in the same way as her home back in Orynth, it’s far better than a hotel room that lower budget movies tend to shove actors in. Another reminder that this time is different, there’s a bigger budget than she’s used to, bigger names than she’s used to, and she can’t fuck this up. There’s more eyes on her now than ever before.

She sends Elide a picture of her new bedroom and her friend just replies with a bunch of exclamation marks and she forwards the picture across to Lysandra too. Aelin wanders through to the kitchen, wondering if anyone bothered to stock the kitchen, not that she can’t do groceries herself, it would just be nice. She’s delighted to find a fridge full of fresh produce and gets about making herself a dish of pasta and veggies.

She tucks herself in front of the big television, munching away as she watches some National Geographic documentary about whales and it helps to take her mind off the fact that this is her last night of peace for a while. She’s trying not to get too in her head about it, there’s a fine line between knowing it’s a big deal and freaking the fuck out about it, and she needs to stay on the right side of that line, needs to keep herself in check.

If she allows herself a moment to relax, a moment to sink into the situation and bask in the opportunity; she’s excited.

And depending on how well this movie does, she knows she may not have another night like this one. Somehow the thought doesn’t seem to scare her.

Lysandra calls her as she’s waiting for the car to arrive to take her to the studio, it's day one of their table read today and she’s tired. She spent all of last night tossing and turning, unable to shut her mind off and panicking over every single detail of how this day could go.

She’s lucky it’s only a table read, she’s not sure even a professional make-up artist would be able to cover the dark circles under her eyes.

“Hello, you.” Lysandra’s voice is cheery through the phone and Aelin smiles, she’s really missed Lysandra and hasn’t taken nearly enough time to seek her out during her recent whirlwind. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

They had texted since the news dropped, but with Lysandra shooting a campaign for a brand she can’t remember somewhere over in the Southern Continent they haven’t had time yet for a call.

“Thanks Lys,” she says as she gets into the back of the sleek black car that the studio has sent for her, tucking her small black backpack onto the seat next to her. It’s all she can use at this point, any other bag just makes her think of that night.

“How’s it going? Have you met everyone yet?”

Lysandra runs in these circles of A list celebrities and Aelin wouldn't be surprised if she already knew Fenrys. She met Lysandra when they were teens; years before her first show for Victoria’s Secret, years before she was walking for people like Gucci and Prada, and they stayed close when they were both living off cheap ramen and thin strands of hope. Aelin likes to tease her about hanging with a lowly C-lister like herself but Lysandra is always quick to quip that she’s maybe a G-lister at a push.

That could change.

“I haven’t met anyone so far, but I’m literally on my way to meet everyone now.”

“That’s exciting, you’ll have to let me know if Fenrys Moonbeam is really that good looking in person.”

“So you don’t already know him?” she asks, teasing. Maybe Lysandra doesn’t know quite everyone.

“Oh you know, apart from every week-end when we hook-up, we’re not really that good friends.”

Aelin laughs, mostly to herself, knowing that somewhere out there that probably is a story that’s cropped up in some cheap tabloid. She knows there’s probably some dating rumours about herself and Fenrys already even though she’s still yet to meet him. It’s just how it is, she knows this, has known this since she was old enough to read the stories about her parents’ messy divorce.

“What does Aedion have to say about that, hm?”

“Oh, he joins us obviously!” Lysandra’s laugh is bright and loud through the grainy speaker.

No-one is more desperate for Aedion to propose to Lysandra than Aelin, not even the magazines, desperate for a scoop of the golden couple, quarterback for the Rifthold Ravens and the world-famous supermodel.

“I think I’ve heard enough, thanks,” Aelin laughs as the car pulls through security checks at the studio. “Lys, I have to go, I’ve just got to the studio.”

“Okay, good luck! Promise you’ll call me later though and let me know how it goes.”

She needs to make sure she puts aside a minute to catch up properly with Lysandra, she’s been slacking recently and she knows her friend misses her. She misses Lysandra too, and Aedion. Maybe she’ll stay with them for a couple of days when she gets a break from filming, she can probably see them far more often now that she’s in Rifthold too.

“I promise,” she agrees. “Tell Aedion to make sure he spoils you from me.”

Lysandra snorts, “Oh he does, I’ll pass it along anyway though.”

“Means a lot. Love you, got to go.”

Lysandra’s returning love you is sincere, but she cuts off the phone as the car comes to a stop outside the plain brick building.

She readies herself in the back of the car, pulling down a deep breath to center herself, she can do this.

The girl leading her to the room doesn’t speak other than to tell Aelin to follow right this way, and she’s grateful, she’s not sure she could speak right now without vomiting all over the dated linoleum flooring.

She needs to get a grip, and fight the urge for a hit that strikes her when she’s nervous like this. It could make her fears disappear, at least for a moment before they all came crashing back down ten-times worse the minute the high faded. There is a reason she packed that shit in, and she knows her nerves will pass. It’s been a while since she’s done any of this, her last movie read was pre-Sam and no matter how hard she tries to push it down, there’s a lot of pressure on her for this to go well.

The girl pauses outside an unassuming white door and holds a hand out to gesture for Aelin to go in. She rolls her shoulders back, holding her head high before she steps into the room. If all else fails she’s still Evalin Ashryver’s daughter and to some people that is something to be proud of.

Fenrys Moonbeam is the first person to catch her eye when she steps into the room, and it seems he’s done some stalking too because he ends his conversation by the food table with some others she doesn’t recognise and bounds straight over to her with a grin.

“Aelin Ashryver,” he says, his voice deep and smooth like velvet. “I’ve heard of you. It’s a pleasure.”

“You have?” She’s both surprised and not at the same time as she holds a hand out for him to shake.

He bypasses the hand she holds out and tugs her into his chest, wrapping both arms around her and knocking her backpack off her shoulder.

“I have,” he says as he bends down to pick her bag back up. “Sorry about that.”

She shakes her head. She needs to stop acting like a bewildered school girl meeting the Queen, she needs to remember that she has second billing for this movie thanks to Dorian.

“Don’t worry about it.” Aelin finds a smile and plasters it on.

Someone calls for everyone to take their seats and she notices the name placards spaced out in front of each chair. She locates her own and it's surreal to see her name printed there, Aelin Ashryver, between Fenrys and another actress playing her sister called Manon Blackbeak. She’s even less known than Aelin, and she only feels slightly guilty for how much that relaxes her.

Aelin knows how this goes down, they sit opposite the production team, the director and all the executive producers and she realises that she’s opposite the sign that reads Rowan Whitethorn.

She slides into her seat, Fenrys and Manon chatting over her head as she does, and she spots a male slipping into the chair opposite her. He’s wearing a slim-fit forest green henley and dark jeans, his shoulders are just as broad as they were in his Instagram photo and here there’s no shadow across his handsome features.

She can’t deny that he’s attractive, she knew it the first time she saw him. Her stare locks onto the man from the hallway after her audition and he smirks at her as if they have a secret. And maybe they do, but now she’s realising that he’s her boss, and a little voice in her head that sounds suspiciously like Elide is whispering to her that opportunities like this don’t come around everyday.

She owes it to Sam and she owes it to herself not to fuck this up, but the look that Rowan Whitethorn is sending her across the table makes her think she could risk it all.

It takes them three hours to run through it in full, and she’s happy to see she’s not the only one with a tear in her eye at the end. Rowan doesn’t cry, but he hasn’t looked at her since before they started and each time she read a line she avoided looking at him. She knows there were a couple of times where he nodded along with her expression of the lines. She’s ignoring it.

This is what she lives to do, they’re not even filming yet and she feels like she’s right where she needs to be. It’s cliche but she breathes easier when she acts, the air feels lighter when she takes on a new personality and feels all the things she’s told to feel.

It takes away the restlessness she feels when it’s all just down to her, being told how to feel is far easier.

Her therapist tells her she has both anxiety and PTSD, but she feels like giving it a name doesn’t make it any easier to deal with. She knows a diagnosis can be a relief for some, but to Aelin, what she feels is far too messy to be summed up in four letters. Her life has simply become the before, and the after, even though what each of those contains is a complete fucking shit show.

There are two Aelins; pre that night and post that night.

The Aelin from before that night doesn’t exist anywhere but in her own memory.

Once the run through is completed and basic notices are given by the producers, things like call sheet distributions and health and safety, the occupants of the room begin to mingle. She sees him make a beeline for her, and she swallows. She’s not ready for this.

“You look surprised to see me.” His voice is as hot as it was the last time she saw him, the slight rasp in his throat and his accent. Gods, the accent.

“You don’t look too surprised to see me.” She tilts her head at him because she feels way thrown off, like he has all the power here. Which he does. But like, she can play it cool. Fake it ‘til you make it, right? “Maybe had a little google search?”

He shakes his head at her, biting his lip kind of like he wants to laugh, and she bristles. She needs to level the playing field.

“Says you.” He’s definitely laughing now. “I saw you liked my photo last night.”

“What about it?” She shrugs, hoping her acting skills are up to it. He only tilts his head to the side as he takes her in.

“Do you think I didn’t know who you were in the corridor? I’m the director.” And fuck him for saying it like that, full of an easy confidence that in any other situation would have had heat pooling in the floor of her stomach. “Brullo discussed the casting with me.”

Right. Of course.

She’s not sure what to say next. Honestly? She kind of wants to flirt with him, but fuck.

Instead she hums a laugh, not really caring whether he thinks it’s sincere or not, and looks absentmindedly around the room instead of back up at him. He reaches a hand out to brush his fingers down her arm, looping them round the bones of her wrist and squeezing slightly like he did the last time before letting go. Her eyes snap back to his.

“Just between you and me?” he asks and the smile he wears is far too hot for her to deal with right now. “I think we made a good choice.”

“Thanks,” she says, but it’s a little too breathy. A little too dazed for having spent such a short amount of time in his presence. She’s aware that she needs to be careful, they are very much not alone in this room right now, and she doesn’t need to start any rumours that would destroy her chances of escaping this without a scandal.

She’s here to do a job, and she’s going to do it well. She doesn’t need any distractions.

He leaves her soon after that, and his parting remark of “have a good first day, Aelin” sticks with her, and she tries not to replay the way his voice had wrapped around her name.

Manon Blackbeak is watching them from across the room, and she arches one perfectly shaped eyebrow at Aelin. She ignores her; let her think what she wants, she’s surely professional enough not to gossip to any press, and stomps over to where Fenrys is chatting with one of the producers. It seems like a good enough place to start.

[mindofharry]

tell me why i’m kinda obsessed with the idea of harry dating a well known youtube vlogger? like the first couple that comes to my mind is claudia sulewski and finneas. just the idea of him being in the background of the vlogs makes me happy. i just love it

OK IM ABSOLUTELY OBSESSED WITH THIS.

like harry’s super, duper private. so dating someone that is well known too is always a lot harder. Especially when you’re definitely more open about your life. You make youtube videos for a living, and you’re very transparent with your followers. You like them to know what you’re going through, how you solved the problem etc. you’re like the big older sister of youtube. People watch your videos because you’re relatable and real and comforting. That’s why harry loves you so much.

You both met through friends. You met glenne in late 2013, when one direction was at their peak and your youtube career was taking off. Glenne and you went to the same event and basically became best friends in 2 hours, arranging to meet two days later. The minute glenne met you, she knew you were perfect for harry.

Glenne had been on your youtube vlog a few times, you didn’t like filming with your friends around — just because you know a few them don’t feel comfortable, but glenne really doesn’t mind. she likes to take over a bit too. In 2015 your youtube was one of the most viewed channel that year and you were growing more known by the second.

“Hey, i never did introduce you to my friend” glenne said while braiding your hair. you were definitely in some sort of sex rut, you just needed to have a few one night stands, you get out there. you had been in an on and for relationship for about 6 months now — you really think it’s over.

“Now which celebrity is it?” you teased making glenne pull your hair back. “glenne!” you pouted, holding into your head.

“it’s someone”

And so glenne set you up on a blind date, not telling you who or where. She did your makeup and helped you dress acordingly. You tried to ask questions, get literally anything out of her. But she’s a tough cookie. Jeff drove you and Glenne to the place, a nice diner. Could be worse, you thought.

“Be nice, be good and please give him a chance” Glenne said, like a mother. you nodded with a teasing smile before kissing her forehead and thanking jeff. Jeff could see you and harry together. He wasn’t sure how long you guys would last, but he couldn’t deny you were perfect for harry and harry was perfect for you. You loved the same music harry did, harry watched those horrible rom coms you make glenne and jeff watch with you. It’s perfect.

You give the waitress the name and she nods bringing you over to an empty booth.

“What can i get for you while you wait, darling” the waitress asked with a soft smile. “just a coke, thanks” you say watching her walk away. Five minutes later the door opened again and a tall man walked up to the same waitress - misty is her name. You see him being brought over your way by misty.

No fucking way. harry styles?

You grinned and stood up, harry immediately going in for a hug. He recognised you from a few pictures around jeff’s house and from the internet it’s self. He might of mentioned having a small crush on you to jeff at one point.

“Hi, i’m Y/N” you say sitting down, harry sits right in front of you. God, he’s so hot. Thank you glenne, you thought to yourself. Let’s just hope, you don’t embarrass yourself.

And you didn’t. You and harry really hit it off, staying in the diner for hours. You went back to harrys home and the rest was history. 5 years, nearly 6 you and harry are together and very much happy. Glenne never lets the fact she made you and harry happen go. You get asked and of course harry gets asked about how you two met and so on, glenne just loves that she’s apart of the story. You only have her to thank for bringing the love of your life to you.

Tackling the filming was hard after the so called “honeymoon phase”. you mostly just did sit down videos in the first year of you and harry dating - story times were a big think in 2016, so that really helped too. But when you both got more comfortable with yourself relationship and eachother, work was so much harder. Harry made it clear that he didn’t want to be in any videos. Even in the background. You completely understood, boundaries are good.

When you started back vlogging again, your supporters were so happy. They missed seeing your daily life, and they definitely made that known. You let harry know that you were vlogging that day, and there wasn’t a problem.

Until there was.

You were trying to be as careful as possible, but when you went to edit all the footage - there was basically nothing you could use. Harry was in nearly every clip and even if you tried to crop him out or cut that clip down - it just didn’t look good or make any sense.

Harry had seen the state you were in when you were getting ready for bed. He felt selfish - but he needed those boundaries.

“Hey guys! i’ve decided that sit down videos are the way to go from now on, it’s just better for me and my editor at the moment. hope you guys can understand” you say from the bathroom with a fake smile on your face - you were trying to hold back the tears. Harry could hear it in your voice and curse to himself.

Harry smiled at you when you came back to bed. you didn’t say anything just climbing into bed.

You barely posted on youtube and instagram anymore. Your supporters were worried to say the least, commenting everytime harry posted wondering what was wrong. Your friends began to worry too.

They wondered if harry was really the right person for you.

After being in a small rut for about two weeks - you sit harry down, you needed him to either get with your job or.... well, you know.

“this is my job and i’m currently letting down a lot of people” you say placing your hand on his “so i either need to be ok with being in the background” you pause and look up at harry “or we need to take a break”

Harry knew it was coming. He felt stupid for keeping you from your fucking job. He was selfish, and his boundaries were outrageous considering he’s living with a youtuber. So he decided to get with it - because he’s not losing you. He never ever wants to be without you, you’re the one of him.

And so the honeymoon phase came back again. Harry became comfortable with the camera and the fans absolutely loved it. You were finally getting back to your old self - well, the new and improved old self.

“So, harry and i are off to glenne and jeffs for dinner” you say putting down the camera, it rested on your desk. “this is the fit” you say standing back twirling around in your dress. Harry comes into the office and smiles as he sees you talking to the camera. He leans against the wall, one hand in his pocket. You turned around and saw your boyfriend watching you. You sighed and took your camera and turned it off him, harry didn’t have any complaints.

“you look beautiful”

Other times, it’s just as simple as getting a drink while you’re in the kitchen or being beside you while you’re talking.

youtuber!Y/N and harry styles are endgame !!!!

[princecharmingmendes]

Heart by Heart | Chapter III | Raul Mendes

                                               *secret agent AU*

Y/N and Raul have been friends ever since they could remember. And falling in love with your best friend can be pretty tricky and messy 99% of the times, add that to the fact they're constantly risking their lives side by side on the field since they're both secret agents, and the best team that's ever existed. Perfect recipe for disaster.

Hi, this is the third chapter of this series, you can find the first one here. Please read the warnings on this one, if you don't feel comfortable with the contents listed on the "warnings" section, please read something else, there are a lot of other works on my masterlist and on the "fic rec" hashtag on my blog. Please give me some feedback and I hope you guys like. Happy Reading!

                                 previous chapter | masterpost | next chapter

*Word Count: 4.1K+

*Warnings: cursing, probably wrong tips about physical fighting (I'm sorry, I know shit about it!),  therefore mentions of physical fight (only training though), jealousy if you squint.  

Please don’t read it if any of this subjects make you uncomfortable, feel free to check my masterlist for other writings. 

*Posted: July 15th, 2021.

                                                   -*-

Y/N wishes she could punch Raul’s perfectly aligned teeth and annoying smirk away. 

Ever since their mission was announced a couple of days ago, Raul made her work out hard, harder than she’s been doing for a while. It’s not like she was in a bad shape, she couldn’t exactly avoid training being constantly sent on field missions. But since she normally stood on a far safe distance, she didn’t need to run 10 miles everyday on the treadmill or on the streets -which was her best friend’s preferred spot since the terrain was irregular and they had to be alert every single minute so they don’t end up being hit by a car. And that’s precisely what he made her do. 

They had to be at work at 8:00 a.m. every day, so Raul picked her up at 5:30 so they could have breakfast before their run, she’d then curse him on the way back to her apartment so they could get ready. He would only laugh at her, promising it would be worth it. Then they’d go into a meeting to discuss final details with the people they picked to form their team. After a long meeting arranging mostly details and cover up stories, they’d go to lunch, only to come back and train using the new gear, shooting and physical fight. The group had to be ready to face pretty much everything imaginable, the risk of this mission was like no other Y/N could remember, so they had to be the best of the best. 

So yeah, maybe Raul was just being careful, but she was sure he was only finding new ways to torture her. 

That’s why the team consisted on Raul as the captain, or co-captain as she liked to tease, and Y/N as the responsible for the strategy. There was Jack who was picked to be Raul’s right hand on the field, he was an experienced agent and has worked with him on many occasions, meaning their chemistry on the field was great. He was a huge, strong man with the sweetest and kindest heart, always laughing out loud and making jokes around. Then there was Celine. Celine’s past is a mystery no one was able to figure out, at least not yet. She was not a person of many words, always quietly watching everyone and everything, ready to shoot the first one that comes her way. Despite being Daphne’s cousin, who was all soft touches and pastel colors, Celine was brutally honest and even a little blunt, but had a great soul with good intentions, maybe just not the best person skills on the team.

And despite all that, she seemed to like Y/N for some reason, wasn’t the biggest fan of Raul, but she didn’t deny he was a great agent. So Y/N picked her cause she trusted her with her life, knowing she would do anything necessary to finish their mission. And then there was Thomas. Tommy as Raul liked to tease, was a newly turned full agent (three month ago to be precise) and still lacked a bit of that intuition only time and experience could give you, nonetheless he was a suggestion the boss made herself. Thomas was a great agent, with fresh ideas and still a bit naive, but he was quick at thinking, new a lot about tech and was a great field agent high made him a lot more complete than older ones. And with that, the team was closed and all worked out together after lunch until their bodies gave out. 

And to make it simple, the beginning was hellish, the end of the week was just like the beginning. 

The first day they started training physical combat, she was paired with Celine, which she was sure was attempted murder. Five minutes fighting she was on the floor, unable to move and breathing hard. Raul quickly climbed on the ring, helping her to get up as he told Celine to replace him with Tom. He moved her to sit on the little bench and brought her a bottle of water as she shook her head. 

“You know I can walk and do this myself, right?”

Raul huffed an amused laugh and nodded, sitting beside her “of course I do, doll, just taking care of my girl, yeah?”

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, bumping his shoulder with hers as she chugged the water down “maybe I’m way worst than I originally thought”

“No, you’re not bad” he said shaking his head and she let out an annoyed breath “I mean it, you’re just rusty, this is not your field anyway, and you can’t use any weapons on the ring, so it’s harder, come on, you just need to activate muscle memory”  Raul said patting her back as he got up. 

“Wish I could believe in myself like you do” she giggled sadly as she took his bigger outstretched hand, letting him pull her up.

“Me too, but don’t worry, we’ll get there, that’s why you have me, silly” he pinched her cheeks “now come on, you’ve got a lot to remember”

He took her to the punching bags, grabbing a pair of gloves for him to wear for her to punch. Then proceeded to bark orders and different combinations of moves, and surprisingly, she remembered most of them, not necessarily executing them perfectly, but it was a start. He then got rid of the gloves before carefully wrapping her hands and moving her to a punching bag. 

“Here’s the thing, doll, you know what you’re doing, you just need to do it better” He placed his hands on her shoulders straightening her position, one hand sliding down her right arm to correct the movement “try it now” he said, his warm breath on her ear, making her suppress a shiver and forcing her to focus on the bag in front of her. 

Y/N tried and it definitely improved, but it still wasn’t what she remembered doing, something felt off “okay, yeah, thanks”

“Good, now fix your legs, you’ll be fighting someone who possibly knows how to fight back, so rearrange your feet to gain more balance in case they come for you” he instructed, hands still on her shoulders as he used his own feet to fix hers in the floor “yeah, that’s it, now the strength” his gently glided down her arms, only for them to stop at her waist and stomach “this is where you have to focus on, contracting abdominal muscles will help the movement and impact of your punch, this is what you’re missing”

She knew he wasn’t necessarily teasing her or anything, this was just Raul trying to help her in his very touchy way, but that didn’t stop Y/N from becoming a bit speechless, not trusting her own voice to respond, she only nodded her head. To which he just laughed stepping back.

“Relax your shoulders and don’t forget how to breathe, doll” he said crossing his arms above his chest as he watched her finally letting go of her breath, taking a deep one before punching a few times

It wasn’t perfect, but it was almost there.

Raul knew she was good and completely capable of taking anyone down within seconds, her grades on every test they ever took serving as even more proof for them. She just needed to remember it a bit and he wanted her to be completely ready to face anything, he couldn’t afford her getting hurt on anybody’s watch, specially his. So he would do anything he possibly could to avoid that. 

“Good, now give a few more, try a few kicks” he said and she looked back at him to nod, her breathing a bit elaborate  “I’ll meet on the ring later, sweetheart” Raul added with a wink before turning around to see the rest. 

“Fuck you” he heard her mumbling before turning back to her task at hand, making him chuckle lightly as he moved around the gym. 

Raul walked around helping as he could, wrestling with Jack for old time’s sake, adjusting a few of Tom’s moves and helping Celine with the new guns they’re given. He even managed to train a bit himself, before he decided it was time to take her to the ring before Y/N gave up on him and moved to something else. So he walked up to find her talking to Jack, he couldn’t hear much, but he heard enough to know it was time to intervene. 

“-yeah, Adrian keeps asking me about you, I think he wants to take you out, you should go, he’s a great guy and word around he’s good in what he does, if you know what I mean” he teased wiggling his eyebrows at Y/N, making her giggle “you should go out with him, really, you’re both single”

“He can ask her out when we’re back, the only date she’s having for now is on the ring, come on, doll” Raul cut the conversation before he could listen to her reply. 

“Jealous, cap?” Jack asked with a lopsided smile on his lips as she just laughed.

“Of Y/N? All the time, a pretty girl like her always has everyone’s attention, you should see whenever we go out to eat something or whatever”

Y/N rolled her eyes “oh please, shut up, both of you”

“I mean it, doll, now come on, let’s see how you improved” he said cracking his knuckles “and you, haven’t you got anything better to do than gossip?”

“Of course not, I’m all done” Jack replied.

“Done of getting your ass beaten today, you’ll only be ready whenever you’re able to take me down” Raul said as he draped his arm around Y/N’s shoulder. 

Jack only threw a middle finger at Raul as both of the boys laughed. 

Y/N and Raul climbed on the closest ring, with her stretching a bit as he did the same, both in some sort of staring competition. Everything with them could easily become a competition -who drank water fastest, little races to get to a certain place, who could count the most amount of super specific cars on a road trip, but the most common and their personal favorite, staring competition. And that was a recurring thing ever since they’re basically babies. And they both hated loosing and would try as hard as they could to beat the other. 

Raul’s mind was racing. He wanted to ask if she was actually interested in someone at if she’d say eyes to whoever wanted to ask her out, or even if she actually looking for a date or maybe even if she didn’t want a serious relationship for now. All that while he had this beautiful sparkling with excitement eyes staring into his soul, leaving him bare for her to read. Meanwhile, she was only trying to concentrate on what was about to happen and also on trying to keep her heart at a normal pace, knowing full well she was about the get really close to her best friend. Also having the other stare at her so intently it was making it hard for her to breathe properly.

“Ready?”

Raul only smiled at her “Was born ready, doll”

Y/N then surged forward, getting him by surprise with her punch landing on his shoulder, and he had to admit, her punch was good. With the element of shock on her favor, she tried hitting him again, clearly avoiding his face. Raul then stepped forward regaining his composure and cornering her slowly, only blocking her attempted attacks, without fighting back. He then was kicked hard on the thigh, a surprised yelp leaving his lips with the painful sensation spreading through his muscles, and just as she was about to hit him in his chest, he grabbed her hand, the other being quick to join his grasp on his right hand. 

“Not so bad, sweetheart” he said with a triumph smile on his lips but she was quick to get her left hand loose moving around to get out of the space he guided her to limit her space.

Then she started her series of punches and kicks again, him dodging most of them, but still being hit a few times making him proud but at the same time breath heavier on the pain spreading on his abused skin. When her hand came to hit him in the chest again, he grabbed it, already bringing the other one to join, before bringing her to the floor and immobilizing her with his own body. Y/N stopped struggling quickly, knowing she wasn’t going to be able to do much to get out of his grasp. She was panting heavily, but it was worth it, cause she was able to make him sweat and be a little less composed than when they started. 

“Bet your secret admirer would be proud” Raul said still unmoved on top of her.

“Bet he would” Y/N sassed back and Raul chuckled, dropping his head to her collarbone and she swear her heart skipped a beat, her breath hitching on her throat. 

Raul got up, offering a hand to her, which she gladly took “are you going out with him?”

“I don’t know, I don’t even know if that’s true or the guy, maybe? I think this is not the moment, so maybe i’m the future, who knows?” she shrugged, grabbing her water bottle and drinking before offering it to him.

“Yeah, you’re probably right” he said closing it again, pulling the ropes for her to step out.

Y/N turned around to face Raul, and as she waited for him she asked “what about you?”

“Me? What about me?” Raul stared at her, noticing the others were already gone.

“Are you proud?” she asked with a teasing smirk, voice playful, but deep down, that was all that mattered to her. Not Adrian or anyone else.

“I’m always proud of you, doll” he smirked at her and she only shook her head giggling “but yes, you’re good at it, just a bit more practice, you’re a natural”

                                                  -*-

“Come on, sweetheart, climb up here and I’ll let you all go so you can get ready for tomorrow” Raul said as he was propped up by the hopes on the ring, a smirk on his lips as everyone started gathering around. 

It was the last day of preparing before they left the next morning. They’ve spent the whole week perfecting their skills and cover ups until it rolled out smoothly off their tongues. Y/N and Raul started a routine, they decided to set camp on his living room since it was a lot bigger than hers, so they would wake up already on his place, grab breakfast, run for a while before going straight to work. Then they’d meet their teammates for a brief discussion, after hitting the gym until their limbs gave out. When it neared 6 p.m., they’d leave for his place where they’d shower and order takeout or cook something simple, before talking until they fell asleep, most nights on the living room.

And despite she remembered as clear as day she fell asleep on the couch, she would wake up on his bed, wrapped on a heavy duvet, with the sound of water droplets hitting the ground from his bathroom. They never talked about it, both acting as if this routine was normal and settled for years now. And it was shocking how well they fit the role of this whole domestic situation. And Peter was loving it, always throwing knowing looks at her whenever she went to visit his lab area. 

Y/N only rolled her eyes at him and Celine bumped her shoulder on Y/N’s, a feline smile gracing her sharp gorgeous features, and then  she turned to the six feet man standing at the edge of the ring “fine, but you’re buying me dinner”

“Whatever you want, and if you’re able to win, I’ll even buy sushi for you and give you a back massage” he offered as he pulled the ropes to help her climb, bowing his head trying to hold back a chuckle.

She climbed on as he let the rope snap back into its place “And what would I have to do if I loose?” she teased, knowing full well she was going to take the offer only to have a chance to rub his smirk on the dirty and sweaty ground beneath her feet.

“Pack my bag and say I’m the most beautiful man you’ve ever laid your eyes on” he stated simply. And honestly, it wouldn’t be such a hard thing to do, but first, she wouldn’t want to add it to his already over inflated ego, second, she didn’t know if she would be able to say it without blurting out some other compromising feelings. 

But Y/N stares at him and smiled lazily, like she wasn’t bothered at all  and truly contemplating his offer “tempting”

“Come on, babydoll” he mockingly pouted at her and she playfully sighed rolling her eyes, cracking her knuckles and rolling her head. 

“Alright, but you better be ready to order from my favorite place and get me dessert” she added with a pointed look and he nodded eagerly. 

“You make the rules” he winked before walking backwards to his designated spot “ready?”

“Yeah, let’s get this over it so you can buy me dinner” she teased, watching from the corner of her eyes as her teammates and even Peter gathered around to watch “or we can just stay here all night watching you brag about yourself and being all talk no action”

Raul laughed before shaking his head and a more concentrated look latch onto his eyes “don’t hold back, sweetheart”

“Not my thing” she said before taking a deep breath and trying to remember all she learned this week, making her first move.

Raul blocked her relatively easily, and then their movements flowed in an intricate rhythm. With only a few days of training, the improvement on her technique was obvious as she maneuvered a lot more gracefully than before. Her hits a lot more consistent, her defense was up and she was able to notice her opponents weakness so she could plan the next move. Y/N was also able to notice patterns on their tactics and predict their next move. 

And he was a bit shocked. In a good way, but shocked nonetheless. 

He knew she was good, Raul’s seen her training before, saw all her tests and grading throughout the years. Hell, he even taught her a lot of tricks he picked up over the years, so he knew how she behaved on a physical fight, knew her favorite moves and her worst ones like the back of his hand. But she surprised him with a few new hits and tricks he hasn’t seen her doing before. And that’s what caught him off guard and made her hit him hard a couple of times. That made Raul proud. Sure, he would loose the bet, but giving her a back massage, buying her food and seeing her happy after defeating him was priceless. 

He didn’t make it easy for her, he never would. He wanted her to be the best of the best, always. So he hit back, avoiding her head or going to strong, she had to be whole for the other day. But that didn’t stop him from trying to take her down, but she was quick, she wasn’t too strong, but her agility made up for it.

“Come on, we have an audience, we should put on a show”

Y/N shook her head, concentration never leaving her determined eyes “I’m not an actress to entertain a crowd, nor a clown like you, baby”

“Hey!” he sounded offended, grabbing her fist in his bigger hand “rude”

She just shrugged, pulling her hand back before going back into action and it couldn’t be even more exciting. The teasing, the meaningless banter and still great performance on the wrestle was enough to put an ease on Raul’s heart. She could do it. Of course she could, but now there would be less collateral damage. 

So when he felt her kick him to the ground, quickly pinning him to the rubber type material floor, immobilizing him in a way he wasn’t even able to move his arms if she didn’t let go. Y/N was sat on his stomach, face hovering centimeters above his, breath on frantic rhythm, as he panted on her face, feeling the slow pain crippling on his back and limbs where it collided with the floor. Raul couldn’t help but smile at the surprised and amused glint on her eyes as she was slowly processing she was able t take him down. The cheerful screams around them were only white noise as they stared at each other’s eyes, and he already felt like his heart was going to burst with pride and happiness, that until he heard the gleeful flightless leaving her lips as realization finally hit her, her forehead hitting his clavicle as she laughed, pure joy coursing through her veins.

He ended up laughing with her, his cheeks hurting from the smile stretched across his face. Y/N nuzzled her face on his neck still buzzing happily as she laughed. Raul turned his head lightly, only enough to press a kiss to her temple as she recovered her breathing. 

When she finally did, she untangled her legs from his, getting up from his torso and offering a hand at him, which he gladly took as he stood up, facing his colleagues as they still laughed and cheered at her. Celine climbed up to meet her with a quick, sharp, strong hug in congratulations before dragging her down with her. Jack was quick to pat Raul on the back as he chuckled, mumbling a ‘good luck with your girl, dude, she’s a badass and you’re gonna need it’. When he finally met her eyes again, he offered her his hand and Y/N automatically took it, letting him pull her closer until she was in his arms. 

“That was insane, doll, shit, you did so good” he said, arms loosely looped around her waist and she beamed proudly at him. 

“I did work hard for that” Y/N shrugged trying to play it coy but he was only able to chuckle.

Raul nodded “yeah, I noticed, and I’m so fucking proud of you for that, and many more reasons, but that?! You’re the fucking best, you know?” he praised and she felt her body heating up. 

“Actually” she said softly, looking down at his silver necklace “Celine’s the best, she showed me a few new tricks that I combined with the ones you taught me and the ones I already knew, so yeah”

“When did that even happen?” he didn’t try hiding his initial shock. They’ve been basically around each other 24/7, how did he not notice her training with someone else the past week?

“Well, to be fair you’re too cocky for your own good” Y/N had that pointed look in her eyes as she poked him on his broad chest “so I kinda asked her to show me how I could take you down and we’ve been doing it in secret, mostly when you went down to meet with Peter or to practice shooting”

“So it was a whole scheme just to try to embarrass me and knock me out?” he’s tone in a playful accusation as his brows shot up in evident disbelief.

“To sum it up, yeah, pretty much” she shrugged innocently as Raul threw his head back laughing.

“That's fucking awesome, you’re amazing” he said letting go of her waist, only to turn to face their team, dropping his arm around her shoulders “alright, guys, it was a hard week but I believe it paid off. We learned a lot with each other and I believe we’re a lot better now. This is still a fucked up mission, but I think we’re ready to face it and as long as we keep on working together and communicating well, we’ll be alright and coming back home as soon as possible, yeah? Think we should call it a day and test tonight”

“Okay, cap” Tom replied eagerly making Y/N chuckle before shaking her head. 

“So what do you say, cap?” Y/N asked teasingly as the others laughed.

Raul smiled down at her as he shook his head “Think we’re ready, doll”

                                                   -*-

*Please reblog or like this post if you liked it so I’ll know.

*I’m sorry if there are any spelling mistakes.

*Please do not repost this without giving me the credit, this is a completely original piece and I do not give permission to copy this!

*Hope you guys enjoyed it!

*xoxo

-🌙

@mariamuses

[thebonerpit]

suck it and see [FIC]

suck it and see

Rom Howney, 2749 words, [E], read on Ao3 here

Robert invites Tom over for dinner. Has his gag reflex improved? (Not me writing a sequel to this fic almost a year later...)

Five months later, and Tom is wondering what the fuck he’s gotten himself into.

After “The Call”, as he’s been referring to it, Robert has been nothing but sweet and courteous and respectful. Once the post-orgasm adrenaline faded, Tom hasn’t been able to drum up the courage to talk about what happened between them and Robert never brings it up explicitly either. It’s been months of brief text threads during quiet moments, the odd video of Robert’s cats or a photo of the sunset, and Tom getting embarrassingly hard whenever Robert says something remotely flirty. Nothing at all that suggests it might ever happen again. That is, until Tom mentions he’s going to be in L.A. for a week.

“Come see me. I’ll make you dinner.”

“YOU’LL make me dinner? Or your private chef will make me dinner?”

“Don’t get cheeky with me you little shit. Tuesday work for you?”

It doesn’t, but Tom rearranges his entire schedule to get there.

The black jeans he’s chosen are practically painted on, but in an effort to appear completely casual and unbothered he throws on a soft pastel pink hoodie and a baseball cap. No need to mention how long he takes in the shower beforehand. No need at all.

The Uber drops him off and he notes that there are no other cars to be seen, and very few lights on in the house. He didn’t even consider that they might actually be alone and now that it’s hitting him he kind of feels like throwing up. Before he can scope out the best bush to heave into, the door opens.

“I know my front yard is pretty amazing but are you going to stand out here all night?”

Oddly enough, seeing him in person, leaning against the door frame with a dish towel in one hand, Robert Downey Jr. in the flesh, actually calms him down. His brain reroutes from panic to excitement and he rushes forward to give him a tight hug, which Robert gladly returns.

“Good to see you,” he says quietly, almost directly into Tom’s ear. The closeness makes him shiver slightly but he manages to cover it with another tight squeeze before rocking back on his heels.

“Same, boss,” he says with a broad smile. Robert cocks his head and smiles back fondly before patting his cheek and stepping back into the foyer.

“Come on, it’s almost ready.”

“Are you really cooking for me?”

“Of course,” he says, like he’s offended Tom is even asking.

It smells incredible, whatever it is, and Tom removes his hat, happily perches on a bar stool, and accepts the beer Robert hands him. They chat amiably while Robert cooks, and soon Tom forgets why he was ever nervous in the first place. It’s just like how it was on set, or backstage at some industry event, joking and laughing and catching each other up on their respective lives. One of the cats jumps up and kneads at Tom’s lap for a while before padding away to search for its own dinner.

Domestic, Tom thinks briefly, before shooing that horrible thought away.

Dinner is pasta with homemade sauce and Tom devours it.

Robert raises an eyebrow as he slurps up his last noodle and Tom sheepishly hides behind his napkin as he tries to wipe off the spattering of red sauce on his cheek.

“S’really good,” he mutters, and Robert just laughs.

He helps him clean up, despite Robert’s protests. He sets the last pot on the rack to dry and turns to see Robert staring at him, a contemplative expression on his gorgeous face.

“What? More pasta sauce?” Tom asks, swiping at the corner of his lips with one thumb.

“Nah. Just looking.”

“Oh. Ok?”

Robert smirks and saunters over and Tom feels his back hit the fridge. Trapped. Nowhere to go.

“This is cute,” Robert says, tugging at the string of Tom’s hoodie. “Suits you.”

“Uh. Thanks,” Tom replies dumbly, unable to look away from Robert’s mouth. He barely catches the way Robert’s eyes flick up to his own before he looks away and exhales softly. It’s a sound of resignation, and Tom’s heart speeds up to a panicked flutter. As soon as Robert starts to back away, he snakes his arm out and grasps on to his wrist. It shocks them both and they can’t do anything but stare at each other for a moment before Tom finally caves and lets himself think with his dick.

He opens his mouth, extends his tongue slightly, and waits.

Robert’s eyes are dark, the gorgeous honey-brown devoured by his pupils, and Tom sees him swallow. He does his best to encourage him, to beg without saying a word, but when Robert still hesitates, he slowly drags his hand up to hover between them. Then he lets go of Robert’s wrist. It’s on him now, and he looks very much aware of this fact.

“You sure?” he finally rasps out. Always the gentleman, even when Tom doesn’t want him to be. He nods and sticks out his tongue even more, his eyes almost crossing at he stares at Robert’s thick fingers just inches away from his mouth.

“Have you been thinking about this?” he asks. Tom nods again and shivers as those fingers run the length of his jaw. “Yeah. Me too.”

Without warning he pushes two fingers into Tom’s mouth, dragging them across his tongue and settling them just past the second knuckle. Tom whines and starts to close his lips around them but Robert’s other hand darts up quickly to grab his chin.

“Ah-ah,” he tuts. “Did I say you could do that?”

The blood that rushes immediately downwards nearly makes Tom pass out.

Robert pets his tongue until Tom’s mouth overflows with saliva and it starts dripping down his chin and on to his hoodie.

“Such a messy boy,” Robert says. Tom gurgles out a moan which makes Robert tighten his grip on his jaw. “On your knees.”

Tom drops so fast he feels his knees crack against the marble tile. It hurts but he doesn’t even care. All he can feel is his dick hard against the zipper of his jeans and Robert’s fingers dragging through his hair.

“So pretty,” he murmurs as he lets his fingers slip out of Tom’s mouth.

Tom tries to lean in, close the distance between his mouth and the growing bulge in Robert’s jeans, but he feels those fingers tighten in his hair. He glances up and sees Robert staring down at him with an expression not dissimilar to the one he had months ago on their video call.

“If you want to stop, all you have to do is say the word.” Robert’s voice is quiet but steady. “Or pinch me really hard if your mouth is… otherwise occupied.”

Tom shudders at the implications of that.

“I need to hear you say you understand.”

“I do! I… I understand. Want this, want you, everything… anything you want,” Tom says, tripping over his words in his haste to reassure him because he thinks if Robert stops now he might actually cry.

Robert exhales sharply through his nose. “Jesus… fucking… alright. Ok. Get up, follow me.”

Tom scrambles up off the floor and follows Robert as he leads him through into what looks like a den. It’s dimly lit, thick curtains pulled closed on the windows, and the walls are lined with bookshelves. Robert pulls him down on to a plush couch and takes his jaw in his hand again, licking his lips before diving in for a searing kiss, and Tom allows himself to be devoured. He suddenly realizes that this is actually their first kiss, but before he can dwell on it too long Robert pulls back and, as gently as possible, pushes him down to the floor between his knees.

“I hope you’ve been practicing more,” Robert says as he undoes his jeans. “Show me what you can do.”

As soon as the fabric of Robert’s boxers is out of the way, Tom doesn’t hesitate. He’s been waiting for this for months and the sight of that gorgeous cock in front of him makes his mouth water. He takes the head in his mouth without preamble and the low groan that Robert lets out spurs him on to take even more. It’s a bit messy, saliva already dripping out the sides of his mouth, but if the noises Robert is making are any indication, he’s doing a pretty damn good job regardless. He feels those thick fingers curl back into his hair and only has a moment to steel himself before Robert’s hips snap up and he chokes, eyes watering immediately as the thick cock tries to force its way down his throat. He tries to relax but it doesn’t work and he has to pull away, coughing and wiping at his chin.

“S-sorry, let me… I can—”

“Shh, no, you were doing well. I shouldn’t have… couldn’t help myself.”

Fuck, he sounds wrecked already. Pride bubbles up in Tom’s stomach and he dares to look up and offer a small smile, batting his eyelashes just a little.

“Want to keep going,” he says, “please?”

Robert bites his lip and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before shifting on the couch.

“Come up here, let me… here, just like this.” He pulls Tom up like he weighs nothing, arranges him on the couch so he’s laying on his back with his head hanging off the edge.

“It’s easier like this, sweet thing,” Robert says as he stands over him. “Opens your throat up. Do you trust me?”

“God, yes,” Tom breathes out. He knows he should behave and wait for instructions but he can’t help surging up to lick at the base of Robert’s cock, hanging heavy over his face. It makes him shudder and Tom feels a drop of precome fall on his cheek.

He sees Robert shudder and gets a gentle slap across his face as a reward.

“Brat,” he rasps out before shoving his cock down Tom’s throat.

The angle is so strange and Tom’s eyes widen with panic before he realizes that yeah, it actually is easier like this? Once you get used to the whole upside-down part. He trusts Robert to hold his head as he relaxes his muscles, letting his throat go slack and just accepting every thick inch he gets.

There’s a bitten-out curse as Tom feels his nose press against Robert’s balls.

“Give me—fuck, your hand,” Robert says. He obeys, immediately, and Robert brings it up to wrap around Tom’s own throat. “Can you feel it?”

Tom nearly shoots off right then and there as Robert moves and oh my fucking god yes he can feel it. The thick line of Robert’s cock is stretching his throat out and he gurgles out a moan around it which makes it twitch against his hand.

“Such a pretty little cocksucker,” he grunts. Tom bucks his hips into the air, desperate for friction, Robert’s dirty words turning him on more than he could have ever imagined.

“Look at you… you want to touch yourself, hm?”

Tom can’t answer so he just whines and wiggles his hips again which causes Robert to grunt and jerk forward which in turn causes Tom to choke and gag again. Robert immediately pulls out and pets the side of Tom’s head while he inhales shakily, catching his breath.

“Ok?” he asks, rubbing a thumb along Tom’s swollen bottom lip.

“Yeah… ok.” Tom is shocked by the sound of his own voice, raw and scratchy and thick. Thank fucking god he doesn’t have to work for the next little while. “More?”

Robert chuckles and leans down to kiss along the side of his neck. “Want to see you come with my dick down your throat. Can you do that for me?”

“Fuck… fuck, yeah, yeah I can do that.” He scrabbles at the buttons and zippers on his jeans and shoves them down to mid-thigh along with his boxers. His hoodie is already a mess, covered in his own spit, but he pulls it up his chest anyway. If this also happens to show off his cut abs and pink nipples, well, it’s just a bonus. He hears Robert groan softly and then suddenly his field of vision is eclipsed by a furred stomach as Robert leans over him to kiss at his chest, his hipbones, and fuck, Robert’s mouth is on his dick.

“Ohmygod,” he slurs, digging his nails into the fabric of the couch as an incredibly skilled tongue laves up and down his erection. He can feel the bristle of Robert’s beard on his thighs and it sends electric shivers through his body.

“Tastes so good,” Robert murmurs, licking up one side and then sucking on the head briefly before letting Tom’s cock fall back against his stomach with a loud slap. Tom whimpers – actually whimpers – as Robert pushes himself back upright and he can see the cocky smirk on his face even from this strange angle.

“There, made it nice and wet for you. Go on sweetheart, show me how pretty you look when you come, hm?”

Tom doesn’t have time to answer as Robert slides his cock back into his throat. The sensation of that alone makes his eyes roll back in his head but now that he has permission to touch himself, he doesn’t hesitate. The slickness from Robert’s saliva eases the way for his own hand as he jerks himself off quickly, no patience for finesse or teasing, just pure need racing through his veins. He gets close embarrassingly fast, partly thanks to the steady stream of filth that Robert is muttering above him.

“That’s it, just like that baby, so fucking pretty aren’t you? You like having a nice fat dick down your throat, hm? Yeah, I know you do, look at you, just made for it, fuck, yeah, keep touching yourself, keep jerking that pretty cock sweetheart, make a mess of yourself for me, come on, come on, let me see you…”

It’s relentless and Tom can’t get enough. He doesn’t want it to end, quite frankly, but he’s teetering right on the edge and when Robert simultaneously shoves himself as deep as he can go and squeezes a hand around his throat he jerks violently and comes all over himself. It’s the most powerful orgasm he’s ever had and his body feels like it will never stop convulsing. It’s only when he finally relaxes enough to try to catch his breath that he realizes that he can’t actually breathe at all. Robert is still buried deep in his throat, grinding his hips against his face like Tom is just a warm, wet hole to be used. It sends a brief flutter of panic through him, but it also makes his spent cock twitch against his stomach. Robert is grunting and Tom feels drops of sweat landing on his chest, mixing with the cooling puddles of come. He must be close. He has to be. He needs to be or Tom is going to actually pass out.

He’s just about to raise his hand to pinch Robert’s thigh when he feels a rush of warmth slide down his throat. It’s so deep he can’t even taste it until Robert pulls out and lets the rest drip all over his mouth and face. As Tom gasps for breath Robert maneuvers him into a sitting position and rubs at his back, soothing him as he coughs and sniffles and wipes at the absolute mess on his face with his ruined hoodie. When he finally settles a bit he can hear Robert murmuring to him.

“Such a good boy… such a good boy, sweetheart, you did so well, that’s it, deep breaths…”

Tom sniffles again and blinks up at Robert’s face. He smiles softly.

“Hey.”

“Hey. Feeling ok?”

Tom nods. His throat is killing him but he doesn’t want to make Robert feel bad about it. Plus, he asked for it and he doesn’t know if it makes him a little fucked up in the head for liking it.

“I… I want…”

“Shh, don’t try to talk now. Let me get you some water. You…” Robert pauses. He leans in and kisses Tom’s forehead almost chastely. “You were incredible. Just sit. Let me take care of you.”

Tom smiles again and nestles into the crook of Robert’s neck, sated and content.

[wolfstar-supremacy-innit]

"Tell who?"- Part 1

Remus smiled into his pillow. Why’s he so cute? He felt something rustle under his stomach. Reaching under himself, he pulled out a wrinkled piece of parchment. His resolutions list. Remus flipped onto his back and squinted at the letters. Warmth was pooling in his chest. Something is missing here. He patted the bed in search for his quill and ink, then wrote:

5. Fuck this I wanna tell him I love him

The paper slipped to the floor as Remus’ arms gave out and he drifted into an instantaneous, profound sleep.

Alternatively:

The Marauders are in their 6th year at Hogwarts, it's New Year's Eve and Remus writes a New Year's resolutions list. Sirius finds it the next day. The story is written from Remus' point of view. It's wolfstar and lighthearted. Kinda inspired by this fanfic.

This is part 1 of the story. I will be posting the other parts separately here and also the full fic on ao3 (I will link everything when it's done, check this post for that in some time). Warnings: underage drinking and smoking, mentions of anxiety disorder.

Enjoy! :)

Part 2 Part 3

Remus sat on the windowsill in the 6th year boys’ dormitory rolling a cigarette with magic. Well, trying to. He carefully placed the tobacco and filter on the small paper and tapped it with his wand, but half of the contents plopped out. The spell needed perfecting, obviously. Remus had picked up the habit of smoking socializing with some muggle kids back home during that summer. He knew it was stupid, but he had thought it looked cool. Later, he also found out he quite liked the lightheadedness that followed smoking a cigarette quickly. And some more time after that, there was a boy at school to try to impress, but that's a little embarrassing to admit. A nicotine addiction was surely well on its way to becoming a reality, but Remus didn't like to think about that. And anyway, with the war looming over everyone's head, who cares if a 16-year-old werewolf is addicted to nicotine? The problem was that cigarettes were expensive and Remus didn't have a lot of money to spare, so he resigned to rolling as it was cheaper and lasted longer. With some practice, he'll be able to assemble them with magic effortlessly anyway.

"Hiya, Moony," James said, walking into the room, "you're not getting ready?"

"Yes, I am." Remus pointed at his cigarette rolling arrangement, although James was probably referring to the fact that he wasn't dressed for a party.

It was the 31st of December. The four of them were staying at Hogwarts for the entirety of the holidays, given that the full moon had been on the 26th. Well, that was the excuse they gave their parents. The real reason why they hadn’t gone to the Potters after the 26th, where they usually spent the Christmas holidays, was that Sirius had stumbled upon a flyer for a gig and party occurring in Hogsmeade that Friday. James and Sirius were ecstatic, but Remus was pretty apathetic towards the idea of going. With his crush on his best friend and all. In fact, he had been trying to steer clear of settings in which he was sure Sirius would look particularly, well, hot. However, there was a flaw in his thinking, he had realised. Day by day, Sirius was beginning to look extraordinarily hot to Remus in every setting, and there was nothing he could do about it.

When Sirius had arrived at their train compartment at the beginning of that school year, Remus was very, very confused. Sirius had run away from home and spent the majority of the summer at the Potters, but in the two months, he had changed profoundly. Although they had been exchanging letters the whole summer, nothing could've prepared Remus for the feeling of panic bubbling up in him when Sirius had stepped through the sliding doors. After finally being released from his family's clutches, the freedom and eagerness to express himself had been immediately evident. Sirius had let his hair grow out longer than usual, past his shoulders, messier and curlier, but all the better looking (if that was even possible). He'd gotten taller and his shoulders broader, his muggle clothes sitting flawlessly on his lean figure. He’d looked cool, to say the least- chunky black lace-up boots, black trousers, a small silver loop earring in one ear and, of course, a black leather jacket. Remus had been perplexed and silent the whole train ride. What is wrong with me, he had thought. It wasn't envy or disapproval. It was excitement for his best friend's joy after years of trauma, of course, it was. But what the hell was that lump in his throat and the inability to look Sirius in the eye? Later that week, as Sirius had stepped out of the bathroom with his shirt hanging loosely around his neck exposing his prominent collarbones, Remus had realised with a sinking feeling that it all impossibly resembled a crush. A crush on Sirius?? I am so fucked, he had thought as he swallowed a lump.

In the following months, Remus had been desperately attempting to push his feelings into the deep dark depths of his mind and just forget about it. Still, as it turned out, Sirius' natural charm and charisma were impossible to look past. He would casually sling his arm over Remus' shoulders on their way to class or wink at him when James said a sentence without picking up on the innuendo of it. And it made Remus' heart jump out of his chest. On top of all that, Sirius was, in all likelihood, the most handsome bloke in the whole of Britain. So much so that talking to him made Remus' stomach twist with nervous energy most of the time. Anxious talking to my best friend of five years... He felt completely off his rocker.

In the present time, Sirius threw the dorm door open, stepping inside with Peter following and Remus jumped a little. "Lads," he said rubbing his palms together, "tonight's the night. We're getting plastered!"

"No," Remus said, still struggling with the cigarettes, now resolving to roll them manually. He wasn't very keen on his big mouth outrunning his drunk brain as it so usually happened after a few drinks. And now he had a dangerous secret to keep...

"Oh come on, Moony! This is our night off the chain!" There wasn't much Remus could say no to with those big grey eyes looking into his. Before he could say anything, Sirius asked: "Mate, could you roll me a few?" He had picked smoking up from Remus, of course. Sirius had said it looked "wicked" and “punk rock”. Remus was more proud of that than he was willing to admit.

"Sure," Remus replied.

"Cheers." Sirius winked at Remus and his stomach flipped. "Right. I'm going to get ready. We gotta clear off when I get out," Sirius said disappearing into the bathroom.

Remus successfully rolled up enough cigarettes for him and Sirius and placed them into his case. Oblivious to James' and Peter's conversation, Remus contemplated how he would survive the night. He'll have his cigs and the music, he concluded. He'll be fine.

He changed into his teal sweater and dark jeans and plopped onto his bed, gazing into the wooden board above him for a while. He sighed. In a few hours, 1976 would die and the illusion of a new slate in the form of a new year will be born. Remus was aware it was silly, but he liked creating little lists of goals for himself for the following year. They were never anything revolutionary, just a couple of small and realistic things he would like to accomplish. He thought about it for a few moments, then reached into the drawer of his bedside table and pulled out some parchment, ink and a quill. He wrote:

1977 New Years resolutions:

1. Get mum that record she's been talking about for months now

2. Master the cig rolling spell

3. Improve on non-verbal magic

4. Complete that muggle reading challenge Lilly and I compiled

Sirius then came out of the bathroom dolled up and with very discreet lines of black eyeshadow around his eyes. The parchment and quill slipped from Remus’ fingers. The deep grey now stood out even further than usual. "Should we get a move on, then?" Remus rolled on his bed, pressed his face into the pillow and groaned softly, pretending it was because of his reluctance to go. He didn't know how many more of Sirius' little surprises he could take before his head imploded. This was clearly one of those times Sirius would look just exceptionally fucking fit.

"You're wearing that, Moony?" Remus picked his head up to look at Sirius, not being able to suppress the disappointment that was creeping up.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Well, you wear sweaters every day, don’t you? This is a party we’re going to!” Remus sat up and peered at him silently, allowing himself to take a better look at the eyeshadow that suited him wonderfully.

“Where did you get that?” James piped in, finally noticing Sirius’ make up.

“Borrowed it from Marls. Now, Moony, let’s see...” He started rummaging through his wardrobe and emerged with a dark grey shirt with a band logo on it. “Here you go, mate.” Sirius held it up for him to look at, then tossed it on the werewolf’s bed. Remus loved that shirt, especially because it was one of Sirius’ favourites.

“It’s December,” Remus said, but excitement was swirling in his stomach at the thought of wearing Sirius’ clothes. “Well, wear your coat.” He flashed Remus a smile. As the other boys started pilling their belongings into their pockets and putting on jackets, Remus reflected on changing into the shirt. Then he did it, quickly. Heat rose swiftly up his neck and cheeks at the realisation it smelled like Sirius. It felt like he would melt into the carpet any second now. Maybe he could allow himself to simmer in his infatuation just for tonight.

“Looking good.” Sirius smiled at him in the mirror as Remus checked himself out. The blush intensified.

The four boys crept down hallways using the Marauder’s Map to avoid Filch and the teachers and made it safely to the One-Eyed Witch Statue on the third floor. Sirius and James were practically skipping down the secret passage leading to Honeydukes. Even Remus felt a little giddy, but that may or may not have been because of the shirt. They arrived at the pub without hindrances and made their way inside. The place was loud and crowded as they pushed their way to a round wooden bar table. There were decorative lights of different shapes and sizes everywhere as well as tiny glass lanterns with magical flames flickering inside. The atmosphere was bewitching.

“Right,” Sirius clapped his hands, “what’re we drinking?”

Remus wanted a Butterbeer, but it was decided on his behalf that he would be having Firewhiskey. After all, Sirius was now of age and this was his first opportunity to take advantage of it. And so, Remus was coerced into his first glass of alcohol. He downed it quickly when the first girl approached Sirius. This was nothing new, of course. He was showered in attention from girls at school all the time. What was different now was that it gravely bothered Remus. However, Sirius paid no attention to the lady and instead turned to Remus to ask for a cigarette. Sirius smoking was a work of art; Remus could testify to that.

After the first drink, it was no trouble following up with more and the boys wanted to try weird sounding beverages from the menu. Thick, white smoke covered their table when James brought over the Simison Steaming Stout. Later, Remus had a shot (or three) of something called Checker’s Quick Everclear which made him inexplicably snap his fingers a few times after swallowing it. It was incredibly amusing and enough to get him rather half cut. After that, things became somewhat fuzzy. The band was fine, so they danced and drank and Remus felt just swell. It could’ve had something to do with Sirius ignoring the girls or plainly the amount of alcohol in his blood. By the time people began counting down from ten, Remus had half lost his ability to comprehend what was going on. He caught sight of James hugging Sirius when the clock hit midnight as the two of them shouted: “Happy New Year!” A couple seconds later Remus felt hands around himself and realised James hugged him next, yelling the same words, frankly a bit too close to his ear. It seemed that James was either holding his drinks well or just hadn’t drank that much. Sirius’ eyes, however, were half-closed, Remus noticed, as he moved to embrace him. It was just a smidge underwhelming. Remus was numb all over and barely felt the touch of Sirius’s arms over the colossal spike of adrenaline that flashed in his insides. He likely held him tighter than necessary and reluctantly pulled away when Sirius did too. Their cheeks brushed briefly in the process. When Remus looked at him, Sirius was smiling. His hair was messy, lips full and smooth. The eyeshadow hadn’t moved. Remus almost leaned in, but chose to just smile back instead. I have a secret to keep. Big secret. Scary secret. He slyly avoided hugging Peter (who was really sweaty) as his stupid, drunk brain kept repeating: Big. Scary. Secret. Secret. But he had already forgotten what was so confidential. He was really fuckin’ pissed, wasn’t he? Remus sniggered to himself.

Sirius and James wanted to go to the dancefloor and Peter followed them. Remus, however, wasn’t quite sure he could stand very well without having a table to hold on to once in a while. So he stayed put, fetched a cigarette from his case, lit it with his wand and leaned on his forearms on the table. Reveling in the fact that that he was allowing himself to feel all his forbidden feelings tonight, Remus observed Sirius in a manner he hoped was subtle. Sirius was dancing with his eyes closed, smooth, controlled movements, face tilted upwards. Christ, Remus banged his forehead on the table, why does he have to look like that?! It felt strangely pleasant, so he stayed in that position for some time. His head was swaying lightly and he got an inexplicable urge to laugh.

“Alright, Moony,” a voice brought him back to reality. Remus forced his head up.

“Splendid,” he said. Sirius smiled at him.

“We got any more fags?”

“Yup.” He pulled out the case out of his back pocket and handed it to Sirius, just as he asked: “Having fun, Moony?” Remus’ mouth stretched into a stupid, crooked smile.

“Oh, I’m having a brilliant time.”

“Good.” Sirius struggled pulling his wand out of the pocket of his tight-fitting (Sigh...) jeans. Remus brought his own wand to the cigarette hanging from the other boy’s lips and produced miniature blue flames. Sirius sucked in the smoke, held it briefly, then exhaled. “Cheers.”

Remus downed whatever it was leftover in James’ glass. Then his mind blacked out. The next thing he was aware of was being dragged up the stairs by James to their dormitory. “You’re a miracle,” he mumbled, thinking how James could have possibly snuck him through the castle in this state without getting caught. James laughed softly.

“Okay, Moony.”

Remus plopped on his bed face first and let out a long, loud half-sigh, half-groan. He heard Sirius laugh from his own bed. “Nooo, we’re not getting plastered tonight! No waaay,” he said in a teasing voice. Remus smiled into his pillow. Why’s he so cute? He felt something rustle under his stomach. Reaching under himself, he pulled out a wrinkled piece of parchment. His resolutions list. Remus flipped onto his back and squinted at the letters. Warmth was pooling in his chest. Something is missing here. He patted the bed in search for his quill and ink, then wrote:

5. Fuck this I wanna tell him I love him

The paper slipped to the floor as Remus’ arms gave out and he drifted into an instantaneous, profound sleep.

Part 2 Part 3

[mythicandco]

I have 1% Battery Left And I’m Wasting it on This

A.K.A. Philip B. Wittebane (in which the “B” stands for “Belos”)

Warning: More than 90% of this is pure headcanoning and theorizing, based on the evidence that’s arisen and the ideas of many other members of the fandom. This theory has been circling the Owl House fandom for months, I DID NOT ORIGINALLY CREATE IT. Brooke and North are from this and so is some of the story, but the majority of the details are the work of my own convoluted brain. This was kinda disproved by Yesterday’s Lie but I want to post it before my computer dies. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this summarized monstrosity… 

Everything is once again below the cut

Philip stumbles into the Boiling Isles by complete accident while on a hike through the woods, tripping into a rift in the fabric of space-time created by Titan’s blood interacting with other various magical substances. He doesn’t realize he’s in another realm until he actually stops to look around, and is startled to come face-to-face with a trio of witches. 

The first witch, Brooke, is taller than their companions, with a big ol’ witchy hat and a pair of grey, tasseled earrings. North, only slightly shorter than Brooke, has a similar hat along with a matching cloak and blonde, curled hair. Her face is covered in scars. The last witch is Kirani, who ends up being a minor character but eh.

The trio is here to collect Titan’s blood for Brooke’s experiments with magic. They believe that by using their knowledge of potions, they can create an elixir of some form to allow witches to perform magic without the use of glyphs. The exact recipe is a work in progress, but they know that Titan’s blood will be a key ingredient. 

When the group first encounters Philip, they are startled by his small, round ears. The bemused human assures them he means no harm and eventually they decide that even if he does want to hurt them, he doesn’t have access to the magical knowledge to do so. This is further proven when a dragon nearly eats Philip (more on that later). They take him to their village to help him find a way home and survive until then. 

Over the next five or so years the group spends a lot of time together, Philip begins writing a journal, and North, Brooke and Philip form a friendship, often going on adventures together with the help of their palismans. North even trusts Philip enough to let him use her staff for transportation until he eventually gets the chance to carve his own. During this time Philip also learns a lot about glyph magic and the creatures of the Boiling Isles, and is surprised at how naturally it comes for him to draw the glyphs from memory and get them right. 

At one point Philip and the others travel to the Knee to retrieve some Titan’s blood from Eclipse Lake. Brooke stays behind to start collecting the other, more local ingredients to their spell, and North is forced to stay behind due to injuries sustained after fighting off a swarm of small, dragon-like creatures.

The expedition is a disaster, and after mistaking fool’s blood for Titan’s blood, Philip is the only one who makes it out alive following the cave-in. Philip is horrified at this turn of events but simultaneously relieved that Brooke and North didn’t accompany him on this particular mission. He comes back with the Titan’s blood, but not the rest of the group, and has to explain what happened. 

The village begins spreading rumors that he killed them to take the blood for himself, or that he is too incompetent to continue leading these expeditions. Brooke and North also get a share of the blame, being the ones who brought the human to their village in the first place. Brooke retreats to their study for a few weeks, taking the Titan’s blood with them. 

Things get even worse after the Titan’s blood excursion and the neighboring witch tribes hear about the dangerous human who supposedly kills witches and other creatures in cold blood for his own gain. (Rumors are nasty things, slightly more terrifying the longer they’re out there.) Philip finds it almost ironic that in this world of freaks and monsters, he’s the target of the torches and pitchforks. 

While out trading at a small market shared by a couple of the tribes, North is confronted by the leader of another clan and accused of betraying her kind. Things escalate quickly and she barely gets out without things coming to blows. 

Philip starts worrying that he is becoming a burden and a danger to the others, not because he actually wants to hurt them, but because they will get in trouble for sheltering him. He offers to help out Brooke with the portal, which is nearly finished. While they are distracted, he pockets some of the Titan’s blood and some other magical supplies from when Brooke was experimenting with improving a witch’s ability to perform magic. 

Philip uses the potion on himself, but because he is human, not a witch or demon, and isn’t connected to the Titan, he can only use magic by taking it from another source. He starts off using various plants and the horns and tusks of the creatures the village usually uses for jewelry or tosses aside after, I dunno, making a pie with it or something, and practices using spell circles in secret, making sure he can defend himself and the others should the need arise. 

Soon he discovers that he needs more and more magic to stay powerful - to stay stable - and slips up in front of Brooke, losing control for less than a moment before using a spare flower he’d been keeping in his back pocket as a gift for North.

Brooke, understandably, is freaked out by what the fuck just happened and Philip begs for them to keep it a secret. He admits that he stole some of Brooke’s concoctions so that he could protect himself from the witches of the other tribes, and that he needs a reliable source of energy to continue using magic. Brooke argues that what he’s doing is dangerous and unnatural, and that a human shouldn’t be able to use magic the way he does. 

Philip is furious, yelling at Brooke for hogging all of the magic for themselves. He says that where he comes from, witches were supposed to be burned at the stake or drowned. Brooke, horrified, backs away. Philip realizes he’s gone too far and flees back to the home he and the witches constructed when he first arrived in the Boiling Isles. 

His state continues to worsen, and eventually he is driven to snap his own palisman in order to consume its essence. With horrified awe, Philip discovers palismen hold far more magical energy than the little table scraps he’d been collecting before. He is able to briefly rejoin the rest of the tribe, but Brooke doesn’t speak to him and he keeps thinking about his broken palisman.

A few days later Brooke finally finishes the portal and gives Philip the key. The human doesn’t get the chance to test out the door before one of the rival tribes attacks the village out of nowhere and Philip joins in defending the people he’s spent years with. North is stunned that he can weave magic without the use of glyphs, but she doesn’t have the time to consult Brooke on where the human gained this new ability. 

At some point Philip corners the leader of the rival clan and nearly kills her, running out of magic just before the final blow is dealt. He reaches for the nearest source of power - North’s palisman - and snaps it in half. 

For a few moments, North and Brooke process what just happened amidst the chaos. Then the fighting stops and everyone watches as Philip finishes consuming the palisman’s essence. 

Philip looks up with glowing eyes and pauses, confused at everyone’s expressions. The fighting picks back up, this time directed at him, and someone throws a spear straight through his chest. It goes in one side and comes out the other, but the human(?) remains unharmed. The witches and demons start freaking the fuck out, because wouldn’t you in this situation? 

Finally registering what he’s done, a horrified Philip backs away and makes a break for the trees. He never sees Brooke or North again. 

In a clearing in the woods, Philip summons the door to the Human Realm but doesn’t have the courage to step through. He realizes that he is no better than the other monsters of the Demon Realm. He’d probably be shunned if he went home. Would anyone even recognize what he’d become? He once again briefly loses control of himself before giving up and throwing the key to the portal into the trees as hard as he can, before disappearing into the foliage himself.

North burns everything Philip touched, his books, home, everything in her fit of anger over the loss of her palisman and one of her best friends (or maybe something more). She is furious with Brooke for not telling her about him sooner and the two witches engage in an argument. Afterwards, Brooke discovers the journal Philip was going to donate to the market library, the one with all of his recorded notes and diagrams about the fantastical horror of the Demon Realm, and instead of burning it, donates it in their lost friend’s name.

A few centuries go by and Philip Wittebane’s name is practically lost to time, save for the journal that still resides in the almost-constantly growing library in what is now Bonesborough. 

A powerful, controlling figure arises, claiming he alone can communicate with the Titan, and that the wild magic used by witches is wrong. Emperor Belos unites the witches of the Boiling Isles under the Coven system, ascending the throne and becoming the most powerful being (both physically and politically) on the Boiling Isles. 

The rest, as they say, is history.

[slytherflynn]

Old and New | Pt I

Blaise Zabini x muggle!reader

word count: 1971

summary: y/n is new to France on a study abroad trip. Blaise is visiting France post-Hogwarts. rags to riches story of an unfortunate muggle falling for a complicated, ridiculously wealthy person who just so happens to also be a powerful Wizard.

a/n: this started with an idea, became a moodboard, then became an entire fleshed out fic! I thought it would be short but my brain had other ideas. enjoy! note: I did write this from my personal perspective in life. as a result it is not very inclusive. I plan to change that with my next fics, I’ve just been having a really hard time lately and have been writing a lot of comfort fics and/or self-inserts to escape from irl bc irl is rly shitty for me rn

It’s a brand-new start, in a brand-new apartment, in a brand-new city, in a brand-new country... an ocean away from home. I can bring Tacoma to France, right? At least, that’s what I’m trying to tell myself. Study abroad is fucking... scary. I kinda regret it. It’s a good opportunity and for someone who doesn’t travel, it should be a fun experience. But I’m currently having an anxiety attack over taking out the garbage, so I’m not sure my positive self-talk is working.

I look out the window of my top floor apartment, wait until someone finally finishes walking down the stairs, and run out my door - I nearly trip about five times going down the spiral of death, my arms feel like jelly thanks to perpetually pushing my garbage deeper in to avoid this trip, and I swing with all my might to hurl my garbage bag into the trash compacting dumpster - only it hits the bottom lip and falls to the ground, splitting open.

“Great!” I say, sarcastically, “First they send my luggage to the wrong location, then they try to say my passport isn’t valid because my apartment was a temporary address, then I’m greeted with a fridge full of rotting food and no power, then I’m bitten up by fleas and now - I just- fuck. Why can’t I just- do anything- right-“ I cut myself off when I hear a screen door slide and blink a couple times to erase the threat of tears that had been creeping up on me while I ranted.

When I look up, I see a tall, dark-skinned guy about my age - handsome. He’s wearing a suit, and expensive jewelry. Combine that with the fact he’s living in the apartment building next to me, which is worth more than my life just for one month of rent, and I put together that he’s probably rich beyond belief. I quickly look away, not wanting to stare. I silently pick up my garbage, piece by piece. As I work, I feel eyes drilling holes in the back of my head. I ignore it. It continues, and I still ignore it as I finally shove my ripped garbage bag in the compactor and slam the door shut. I hear a slight jump up above, and chuckle to myself.

I zoom back up the stairs and almost make it to the top, but I trip 5 stairs away from my door - and fall, hard. Body laid out flat hard. Cheek scraped and stinging from the metal grating on the stairs, hard. Lost the goddamned slide that caught on the stair, and can see it gradually falling, bouncing and rolling down the stairs, hard. I lift my head and see blood on the stair. I feel it running down my face. All I can think is that this really fucking hurts. The tears come, a combination of pain and frustration, and I pick myself up and stumble my way into my apartment, completely forgetting about the attractive rich boy who just watched me be a danger and inconvenience to myself.

I rush to the kitchen and grab a roll of paper towels, and run to the bathroom, I see the markings in the mirror and can tell it will leave a sizeable scar. Do I need stitches? I don’t know. Anyway, I start dabbing at everything and blood is still oozing out of every nook and cranny, to my displeasure. I’m about to start bandaging my face when I hear a knock on my door. “Fucking Christ!” I mutter to myself as I slap a wad of paper towels on my face and sulkily go to fling open my door.

I’m not sure who I’m expecting, but to see the same rich guy on my doorstep, slide in hand, probably wasn’t it. “Hey, um, I saw what happened, and I thought you might want your shoe back.” His accent sounds very British - I was expecting it to sound more like a snooty Frenchman’s.

“Oh. Um. Thanks.” I say flatly.

As my muscles twitch to begin closing the door, he says, “Would you like some help cleaning that up? I have certifications to give medical aid... and stitches. My name’s Blaise, by the way.”

Doctor, maybe? Probably. “Sure,” I say, opening the door wider and standing back so the blood doesn’t drip on his suit. “I’m y/n.”

A few minutes later we’re in my bathroom, me sitting on the toilet, him sitting on the bathtub as he helps me fix my face. “So, Mademoiselle y/n,” He asks, “Do you find yourself in these predicaments very often?”

“Which one? Poverty, flea bitten, or bloody?” I say.

“I suppose whichever you’d like to think I was referring to.”

“Well, in *that* case - I’m usually caught unawares in all kinds of predicaments - though I’d say self-injury due to clumsiness is an uncommon one. And do you usually find yourself in predicaments requiring you to treat someone’s wounds?”

“I used to, though now it’s only on the occasion.”

“Sounds like an improvement,” I note. “I won’t guarantee it, but I think I’ll get the hang of walking up the stairs soon enough, so you don’t have to worry about me.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily mind it if I did worry about you once or twice more. Why were you running? It seemed like you wanted to get away from something. Does your garbage compactor smell that disturbing?”

“It doesn’t smell great,” I admit, “But truth be told, I’m not a fan of human interaction. It’s scary. Especially when everything is new to me.”

“How long have you been In France?”

“A few days, just enough to get myself physically settled.”

“I see. And you are from America?”

“Mhm. Let me guess, my accent gave it away.”

“And the slang, I’ve yet to hear someone from France use certain terms that you seem to favor.”

“Oh, most of my slang is specific to my city, not just my country.”

“Your city?”

“Yea, Tacoma. It’s near Seattle, if you know where that is. Tacoma’s better, though.”

“I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never been there. My mother is a fashion designer, but she only travels where there’s inspiration or a business deal.” So that’s how he gets the expensive clothes. The rest of the money too, probably.

“Must be nice, having a handmade closet.” I muse. “Not that I care for having any more clothes than I brought. They’re pretty reliable, if I do say so myself.”

He laughs. “Yes, well, if the blood stains don’t come out of your jumpsuit you might need a new one. They shouldn’t be too difficult to remove, though.”

“Yea, I’ll just dump a bucket of Oxi-Clean on it and call it a day. That is, if any stores nearby have it.” I frown, realizing I have no clue if France carries any of the products I usually get. This is gonna suck. Hopefully the internet has some answers so I don’t have to ask anyone for help.

“Why don’t I take your jumpsuit back with me? Save you the trip. Believe it or not, I used to have chronic nosebleeds, so I know a thing or two about stain removal.” Blaise offers.

I smile, only just. “Well, if you insist. But I love this jumpsuit practically more than myself, so I expect it back right away!”

He returns the smile. “A fan of fashion? You ought to meet my mother.”

I chuckle. “I’m sure your mom would despise me - I only own seven jumpsuits and some athleisure for going on runs.” I pause, then tack on: “Oh, and some fuzzy pajamas for when I’m sick.”

Blaise cocks a brow at me. “And when you’re not sick?”

“Don’t worry about it.” I grin mischievously.

A wave of recognition graces his eyes, and he very quickly looks away, I assume for being flustered.

“You Americans, always so scandalous.” He tsks in mock scorn.

“That’s what we’re known for, is it not?” I say cheekily, “Beer, boobs and gun barrels. And all the other problems that come with that, but that’s a can of worms I am not looking to open today.”

He ties off his handiwork, and says, “It looks like my job is finished, other than stealing your jumpsuit off your back to fix it. I can wait in the other room, if you’d like?”

“Um, yea, that works. Lemme just, grab my next jumpsuit. Gonna have to do laundry early, I suppose-“

“I can wash your jumpsuit for you. I’m pretty good at reading labels, if I do say so myself.” He jokes.

“Oh?” I say, “Then you must be a real genius! Who taught you, Einstein?”

“No, but it was another white-haired, eccentric man, so you’re not that far off.”

“When all teachers are like that it’s kind of impossible not to hit relatively close to the mark.” I remark, then change clothes as quickly as I can, tossing the dirty outfit into a trusty plastic bag and tying it shut.

When I walk out to the living room, Blaise is toying with one of my sculptures. He’s definitely been meandering and lurking around. “Enjoying yourself?” I ask, at which he jumps. “You’re rather skittish, Blaise.”

“And you’re rather quiet on your feet, y/n.” He observes. “But yes, I quite like your eclectic style. If only you had an apartment that let your customization shine. Something more minimalist.”

“Yes, well, it’s something I’ll forever dream of and likely never accomplish. I don’t suspect I’m going to be someone leaving the income level I was born into.” I say, just a little bit cynical.

“And why is that?” He asks.

“Because most people don’t, and the ones who do are the ones who make money. My career isn’t going to make me money.” I reply.

“So why did you pick it?”

I sigh. “Because somebody has to care about the people like me. The politicians don’t, the middle class don’t, and the rich are hell bent on keeping us there so they can have factory workers and have people going straight to prison after they graduate because we’re all desperate and miserable.”

He frowns. “That’s terrible.”

“It’s reality. And I don’t want to be like the people who get rich and stop caring because all they see is the wage difference and pretend it’s justified so they don’t have to feel complicit in the system.” I look him in the eye, my face grim. “Not all luck is by chance. Most of it is by design.”

He nods. “I understand, in a way.”

“Everyone does.” I say. “But understanding in a way and caring enough to do something about it are two different things.” I look away from him when I see his posture change. “I’m not trying to be rude, but it’s impossible not to notice the wealth gap between us when you’re wearing designer clothes and living in what looks like a mansion and I’m living in a building made in like 1900 with no elevator. It’s just the way things are, though.”

“I know.” He says quietly, thoughtfully. “I’d better get going. Your clothes?” He reaches out tentatively for the bag I’m still holding.

“Oh. Right.” I say, handing it to him. Our fingers brush against each other slightly, and it sends chills down my spine. He heads to the door while I’m rooted to the spot, collecting myself.

“I look forward to seeing you again, y/n.” He nods, meeting my eyes with a rather changed expression.

“I’ll see you soon, then?” I ask, not quite sure which answer I’m expecting.

He smiles, only just. “As soon as I am able.” Seconds later, he’s out the door, and I’m alone in my dingy ass apartment. How in the fuck did any of that just happen?

[jemmahazelnut]

Motorcycle flight - Chapter one

Summary: Laxus is a biker, and as soon as he discovers that in the city there's a motorcycle track for enthusiasts where races are organized every month, he decides to go. As soon as he arrives, he will fall in love with that wonderful place, and will meet the handsome green-haired owner. [Freed/Laxus]

Link: AO3

This is my first mini-long of five chapters, I hope someone likes it. If you like let me know what you think with a comment. Enjoy the reading :)

P.S. English is not my first language, so certainly there are many mistakes that I don't even realize. So, I accept constructive criticism on how I can improve.

Chapter one, The motorcycle track

“Go Gajeel, go!” Lucy yelled from the stands of the Raijinshuu track. Cana next to her was drinking a beer and had her gaze was fixed on the competition, but at the name that her friend spoke she looked up confused.

“I thought you bet on Natsu,” she commented.

“No, last time I lost 20,000 jewels because of him. Gajeel will win, I'm sure,” the blonde said with her hands clasped on the railing and her eyes fixed on the competition. Cana didn’t object and turned to the track again, noting how there was a nice stalemate. Damn, that big blonde she had met a few nights before had told her he was going to win, she hoped she wasn't wrong to bet on him.

“Who did you bet on?” asked Mirajane next to her, who wasn't competing because her bike was currently at the mechanic.

“You'll see it,” said the brunette, narrowing her eyes and watching the blue bike pass Gajeel's. It was the last lap, in a few seconds the race would be over. She felt the tension in her arms as she hoped she hadn't lost her money. The bike made the last corner, a moment later straightened up and crossed the line. Cana jumped to her feet in exultation, while Lucy beside her took her head in her hands.

“Yeah! Fuck yeah! Yeahhhh!” Cana exulted, almost breaking the eardrums of the two girls next to her. Mirajane leaned over the railing to see who had won, sure she had never seen that bike there before. And actually, as soon as the other bikes reached the finish line and the race was finally over, the winner took off his helmet revealing a blond-haired man.

“Who is he?” she asked.

“My savior!” Cana shouted enthusiastically “I’ve won 100,000 jewels!” she screamed still excited as never before, she frantically printed a kiss on Mira's lips and then ran down the steps with the bottle of beer still in her hand that spilled everything everywhere. Mirajane watched dazedly as the girl entered the track and ran towards the blonde. “That was great!” she screamed loudly.

Laxus as soon as he heard that voice turned to the girl, still excited for his victory with a grin on his face. He saw Cana running towards him as she passed the other motorcyclists.

“You won!”.

“She’s more excited than me” Laxus thought and the grin widened. Oh yes, he was really satisfied. It was the first time he had competed on that fantastic track, and he had already made it clear to everyone who would be the next top rider for that year. It was thanks to that girl that he had discovered the place, and he really couldn’t but be happier. He didn't even know there was such a club when he moved to Magnolia, and when he went to the Raijinshuu Motorcycle Track for the first time and saw the races as a spectator, he immediately fell in love with that place.

In addition to the fantastic track, there was the nearby bar frequented only by motorcyclists or motorcycle enthusiasts. The beer was good and they made great sandwiches well filled the way he liked it. It would become his second home, he already knew it. In addition, he had also discovered that there was a mechanical workshop not far from there, and even if Laxus had already found a job and an apartment on the other side of the city, he would have been damned if he hadn’t at least taken a look. The ideal would have been to work nearby, but he had time to think about it. Meanwhile, he could enjoy his victories which, he was already sure, would be many.

“I told you to bet on me” was his arrogant reply as he ran a hand through his hair and Cana laughed.

“I'll buy you a beer, you definitely deserve it!” she exclaimed enthusiastically and then waved her arms to attract the attention of the two girls still on the bleachers. As Mirajane looked at her in perplexity, Lucy was about to cry over the money she had just lost.

“Okay,” the blond said as he set off with his bike towards the exit of the track. He certainly wouldn't have turned down a free beer. A few motorcyclists joined him, someone to compliment him, someone to find out who he was, since no one seemed to know him. And indeed, it was, Laxus had been to see the races only twice before deciding to register, so it was logical that no one remembered his face. A pink-haired boy was enthusiastic and kept asking him for life, death and miracles, too bad that Laxus didn't have time to answer because the boy kept talking and laughing like a machine.

“Next time I'll beat you!”.

“You’ve to beat me first,” retorted a biker full of piercings, and Laxus grinned but didn't answer, as a lot of people, boys and girls craned their necks to see who was that blond-haired stranger who had beaten their strongest bikers.

***

Freed kept tapping his pen nervously on the table, while he read the papers that the lawyer had just sent him. He was nervous, especially after his father had called him. Freed regretted having answered him, because hearing him had worsened his mood even more, and he really didn't believe it was possible given how he got up that morning. With bad news and a war on the way. But if his father believed that he would give up and that he would close the Raijinshuu, he was very wrong. He felt the phone vibrate and with pursed lips looked at who it was: his mother. Even more nervous he closed the call without even answering her. Maybe he should have blocked his parents directly so they wouldn't call him again.

A glass was placed in front of his eyes and Freed looked at Evergreen, who had just brought him a beer.

“You know, soon the race will be over and you’ll find yourself surrounded by a lot of people who just want to celebrate. Time to put the papers away,” she said plainly as she pushed the glass of beer towards him. Freed looked down at the reddish liquid and sighed wearily. He knew his friend was right, but he couldn't really feel comfortable.

“I have to finish seeing...”.

“Freed, everything’s in order. Your father can't do anything to get you shut down, you know that better than anyone,” she reminded him. Freed was silent for a moment and then shook his head.

“He’ll find something, he always does” he retorted irritably “And there are a lot of checks next week, tomorrow the ones on food, Thursday those on the safety of the track, then they’ll check the stands, then...”.

“Freed, look, checking those cards won't change anything anyway. And for today you should just relax,” Evergreen insisted and pushed the glass even more towards him. “Come on, now drink and close those files,” she ordered. Freed sighed but didn’t reply, knowing full well that her friend could become really stubborn. He put the papers away and then leaned back in the chair, taking the glass and trying to free himself from the thoughts that were making him nervous.

“Damn, the blondie really won!” Bickslow suddenly exclaimed from behind the counter. More than making beers, however, he was watching the race in progress on the television. Not that it was a problem, at the moment all the customers were out enjoying the race.

“Then he wasn't lying when he said he was going to win,” Evergreen commented in surprise looking up at the TV. Freed kept thinking about his father, those checks and the fact that he should call him back, sooner or later. He couldn't ignore him indefinitely, even though he’d have preferred to do so.

“Listen Freed, how about buying a bigger TV? It's unfair that we’ve to settle for a tiny screen when the people out there can enjoy the race properly,” Bickslow said, rousing him from his thoughts.

“Seems to be just fine to me,” he objected.

“I assure you it doesn't,” the bartender retorted with conviction. “In any case, people are coming. Ever, move your ass. I'm not going to do the work all by myself now that the crowd’s coming,” he said.

“But if I do everything myself” objected the girl going back behind the counter. Freed smiled slightly, thinking it would probably be useful to have another bartender. A little later people started coming in and Freed thanked that he was already seated with his beer so he didn't have to queue among all those people. Not that he should have done it anyway, since he was the boss of that place and at best, he would have taken it on his own.

A couple of guys greeted him and Freed smiled at them with a brief wave of his hand, until an angry blonde came to him. As soon as Lucy was in front of him, she slammed a hand on the table in irritation.

“You must prevent Cana from setting foot in here for the rest of the year,” she snapped. Freed raised an eyebrow, he was about to ask why but it wasn’t necessary, because the girl continued to speak. “It's not fair that she wins every bet, every time. Every most holy time. How is it possible? And why am I always losing? I was hoping to get back what I lost the last few times, but instead I find myself with 20,000 jewels less, and they all went into Cana’s hands!” she exclaimed irritably.

“Have you ever considered the idea of not placing bets anymore?” Freed asked.

“Of course not, it's a matter of principle,” Lucy objected. “And the worst part is that she keeps throwing it at me, you should throw her out. Oh, here she comes,” she moaned.

“Two great beers for the winners!” screamed the brunette as soon as she walked into the club. Freed found himself giggling as Lucy moaned over the lost money.

“I'm sorry Lucy, if it were someone else, I could consider the idea, but Cana makes me earn a lot” he said and the blonde moaned again but resigned she sat down in front of him, taking her head in her hands.

“At least offer me the beer for consolation,” she pleaded. Freed giggled again but took pity on her and stood up. Since Evergreen and Bickslow were already quite busy with all the people who had entered, he went after the counter and got by on his own.

“Lucy lost a bet?” Bickslow guessed as he placed sandwiches to warm.

“Apparently,” Freed replied filling his glass and glancing at the mass of people who had entered. “Who’s the winner?” he asked curiously.

“The blond next to Gajeel,” he replied, nodding his head to the table where the two boys were sitting. Freed followed his gaze and paused a moment longer to observe the handsome boy with broad shoulders and blond hair. He had never seen him there, and he knew all the boys who frequented that place. Well, that meant he'd have one more client, he had nothing to complain about.

As Bickslow walked away to the other side of the counter, Freed turned and took a small saucer filling it with chips. If he was going to console Lucy, he would do it right, and then he was starting to feel a bit hungry. Nobody disturbed him until he heard a low voice behind him.

“Hey, can you make me a beer?”

Freed turned surprised and noticed that it was the blond who had won the race. Now that he was closer, Freed could observe him better, and if already from a distance he had considered him handsome, now he couldn’t help but confirm his initial thoughts and also consider him fascinating. Piercing eyes of intense blue, a dark shirt that fit him perfectly and a smirk on his face. Normally Freed would have called Bickslow or Evergreen to serve him, but ultimately that guy would have been a new customer, better keep him good.

“What you want?” he asked with a slight smile. Laxus scanned the menu on the wall behind Freed and then picked one. Freed hurried to give it to him. “Winner of the day, right?” he asked and the blond smiled broadly, obviously pleased.

“I'll probably be the winner for the next few months,” he commented arrogantly and Freed found himself giggling as he put the glass down on the counter.

“Well, for today the bar offers the winner, but don't get used to it,” he told with an amused smile. The blonde laughed and thanked him, taking the glass and walking away from the counter to sit next to Gajeel. Eh, a new client was still a new client, and if in that case he was handsome, tall and with a nice ass, then Freed just had one more reason to hold him tight.

***

Laxus walked through the doors of what had become his favorite club and walked over to the counter and Bickslow. It had been a while now that he frequented that place, and as he had thought from the first time he had set foot in it, it was becoming his second home. It was normal for someone who loved motorcycles like him to be comfortable in such a place. The people who frequented it were all easygoing, the beer was good, he could ride the track and drool behind bikes that he could never afford.

Not that Laxus complained about his little gem, he loved his bike and if and when he decided to change it, his heart would cry, given how fond he was of it. But every now and then even rich people came to that place just to show off their vehicles and, well, gazing with the eyes was allowed.

He was in a particularly good mood that day. All thanks to a scratch card that he had taken to try his luck and which had made him win 700 jewels. It was little money since he would pay a dinner at most, but it was enough to put Laxus in a good mood. And since luck seemed to be running that day, he hoped to be able to ride a bike even though he knew the track was closing at that time.

“Beer?” Bickslow asked.

“Nah, I want to go for a ride on the track first,” Laxus said. Bickslow glanced at the clock.

“I'm sorry, I just can't leave you at this time,” he replied. Laxus snorted lightly. Well, he tried.

“Don't worry, get me a beer then”.

Bickslow gave it to him and Laxus sat down at the counter. Of all the guys who were there, he got along particularly well with that strange blue-haired bartender, despite the fact that he was a talkative type. Right from the start he had introduced him to the top bikers, and he had gossip about everyone. One of his favorites was Evergreen, the other bartender in the place. Apparently, the girl had some kind of friendly relationship with benefits with one of the bikers. Speaking of which, the aforementioned biker was right there chatting with the brunette while he ate a sandwich. Bickslow grinned amused, glancing at his friend, who in response glared at him.

“When can I sign up for the next race?” Laxus asked as he looked around the bar, but at that time there was hardly anyone. Lucy and Natsu were sitting dining at a small table in the corner, but luckily the pink-haired boy hadn't noticed him. He had this crazy mania to challenge anyone and after a while Laxus was annoyed at hearing his voice.

“Next week registration will be open” replied Bickslow “Are you sure you don't want to eat something?” he then asked. Laxus at that point decided to eat a nice sandwich there and also ordered some French fries. He spent an hour there having dinner and chatting with Bickslow. Since there were not too many customers, the bartender could keep him company. Once he finished Laxus paid and greeted him, nodded to Evergreen who was still arguing with her friend, and left the club.

He walked towards his bike but as he passed in front of the track something caught his attention. A boy was entering, and Laxus had already seen him. He was that long green-haired bartender who had offered him beer on his victory day. Looking at the vehicle he was taking into the track, Laxus noticed that he had a beautiful motorcycle, a lady motorcycle. Damn, he must have been rich. That was a bike that Laxus would jump through hoops, one of the latest releases. He didn't know if the reason he stopped was the handsome bartender, the beautiful bike or the fact that the boy was entering the track when clearly Bickslow had told him it was closed at that time, but Laxus did.

“Hey, is it an employee benefit to enter the track even at these times?” he asked. The boy turned to him clearly surprised and for a moment looked at him in silence blinking confused.

“Excuses me?” he asked. Laxus smiled slightly and took a couple of steps closer.

“Bickslow told me the track is closed at this time. I'd like to take a ride too,” he explained. The boy smiled slightly, finally understanding what he meant.

“Well, Bickslow actually told you right. The track is closed at this time, no one can enter” he said in a calm voice.

“Well, apparently you do,” he replied.

“It would be weird if I couldn't, since I'm the owner,” the boy chuckled and it was Laxus' time to be stunned. He must have had an eloquent expression on his face because the motorcyclist laughed slightly. “Freed, nice to meet you,” he said extending his hand. Laxus held his still a little stunned.

“Laxus,” he just said. He had thought he was just a bartender, on the other hand it was he who served him without batting an eye the first time he had been there. “Are you… really the owner of this place?” he asked still surprised. He was young for having opened such a place, probably a few years younger than him. How the hell had he done it?

“Yeah,” Freed replied simply. “Actually, I thought Bickslow with that wide mouth told you,” he added. Laxus recovered and laughed lightly.

“He told me life, death and miracles of everyone but he didn't say anything about... no, he actually said something, but I didn't know you were Freed,” he recalled at that point, frowning.

“I hope he didn't badmouth about me,” Freed joked.

“Nah,” Laxus replied with a smile. “He just complained that he wants a bigger television,” he said with a shrug. Freed rolled his eyes.

“I had to figure it out,” he commented. Laxus stopped for a moment to look at him, from the first time he had seen him he had found him attractive but he hadn't given it too much weight. There were many attractive men, yet now that he knew he was the boss of that place he felt a little in awe. Which didn't happen often. But knowing that such a young boy had opened such a place was strange, and he honestly didn't know what to think of that boy.

“So, you wanted to ride a motorcycle, right? How about a challenge?” Freed asked suddenly. Laxus frowned.

“Do you want to challenge now?” he asked fearing he hadn't understood correctly. He understood that at that time no one could enter the track. Well, Freed on the other hand was the boss, he could probably do what he wanted there.

“Of course, after how sure you were to win all the races, I really want to see if it was luck or skill” Freed instigated him with a smirk. Laxus partly out of pride, partly because he really wanted to ride the motorcycle, he found his grin again.

“Okay,” he said. Freed smiled in response and entered the track, while Laxus went to get his bike and then join him. Eh, luck that day turned just in favor of him.

***

Laxus stopped with the bike still enthusiastic about the ride he had done. Damn, it had been liberating and even challenging. Even if he had lost. He didn't expect it, but at least he could justify himself by saying it was only thanks to Freed's bike. And so he did when the boy brought up the victory.

“I would have been surprised, given the bike you ride,” he then commented. Freed raised an eyebrow with a pleased and amused grin on his face.

“Are you trying to find justifications for not admitting that you were beaten fairly?” he asked.

“At all. But your bike’s more powerful than mine, there's little to do,” Laxus said with a shrug. Freed shook his head in resignation.

“I should really race with another bike so as to prove otherwise,” he commented in a low voice, more to himself than to Laxus. The blond gave him a curious look, they hadn't talked much, only competed, and he was starting to be really curious to know more about him. Like he had the idea of opening such a place, a real paradise for Laxus. “Would you like to get a beer? Since you lost you owe me one,” Freed said. Laxus looked at him at the same time surprised but also a little amused.

“Really?” he asked him in a half laugh “Are you the boss of this place and Ishould buy you a beer?” he asked. Freed smiled.

“Well, considering that the last time I offered it to you, I'd say it's not that strange. But if you want, we can do another race and I’ll use a bike with the exact same power as yours, and if I win, you’ll offer me the whole dinner” he said.

“Only if you promise to give me a bike when I win,” Laxus said with a grin. Freed raised his eyebrows but smiled.

“Gone,” he replied and Laxus chuckled, following the boy to the bar. The two entered and went to the counter. Bickslow looked at them in surprise.

“Laxus, still here?” he asked.

“Yes, in the end I did the lap around the track as I wanted. He let me,” he said pointing to Freed.

“Don't tell me you made a challenge,” Bickslow commented as if he were expecting it, as if it were normal. Laxus would have lied to say that he was not left in a bit of bad. That meant that Freed often did it with other clients.

“Yes, and I won. Not that I'm surprised,” Freed said as he sat down in the chair. Bickslow rolled his eyes.

“Sooner or later someone will beat you and I'll make you remember it forever,” the bartender said. Freed smiled.

“The person who will beat me on my track has not yet been born,” he retorted arrogantly. Laxus would have smiled at his conceit, but something caught his attention.

“Wait, you’ve never been beaten by anyone?” he asked surprised.

“No,” Freed smiled smugly. “Since I opened this place, I’m the absolute champion, which means that I haven't lost a single race in four years,” he said.

“Yes, and you’re also unbearable,” Evergreen interjected annoyed.

“I agree,” Bickslow said. “And when somebody beats you, I'll throw a huge party and I'll put up posters with a giant picture of your pissed face and place it for all the bleachers.” Freed smiled.

“I doubt that will ever happen, but if you do, I'll make sure I fire you first,” he said. Laxus didn't know if he was joking or not, but Bickslow didn't seem in the least affected by the threat.

“I hoped you beat him,” the bartender told Laxus.

“Well, we still have to have a fair competition,” the blond pointed out. Freed nodded.

“Right. I just want to see how you justify yourself when I beat you,” he said.

“It won't be necessary, because you won't win.”

“We all cheer for you, Laxus,” Bickslow said and Evergreen nodded vigorously.

“If you win, we will offer you beer for a whole week,” said the serious girl.

“What great friends,” Freed said sarcastically. “So, can we have two beers or do we have to stay here and talk with nothing to drink?” he asked. Bickslow turned and prepared both glasses while Freed asked Ever for a toast to eat. In a short time Laxus found himself again with a glass under his nose and in the company of three boys who dragged him into a pleasant and fun conversation.

[angelicamerlinbarnes]

TUA MEAN GIRLS AU

(please understand that by AU, I mean they share an incredibly small amount of things in common with the original source material which I barely remember BUT the “story” takes place in the setting of the film) (not to be misleading or anything :p)

(BEWARE: abuse, bribery, immoral deals, bullying, homophobia, outing, transphobia, violence, abortion, teen pregnancy, etc.)

(If you can handle watching Umbrella Academy, this will be fine for you.)

(Regina) Five is the king of this school, and he has no plans to give up that position. He needs it to protect his people, as few and far between as they are, and himself, if he’s honest - he’s a trans and ace-aro kid in platonic love with the health class mannequin who he calls Dolores. Ruling with fear is basically all he can do. While he’s mean, you’ll soon realize that everything he says is more of a blunt observation that will improve your life if you just heed his advice. He doesn’t respect almost anybody - not the jocks, theatre geeks, nerds, cheerleaders, band kids - no one. However, if he does respect you, you have his trust and protection. And as a thirteen-year-old genius who only takes advice from always-slightly-drunk art teacher Agnes, his protection is pretty damn valuable: the last person who tried to hurt one of his people will never walk again. Leonard Peabody - he assaulted Vanya, and he paid. Five beat him to the point of hospitalization without getting a single speck of blood or bruise on himself, and Leonard’s the one who walked away in handcuffs. Do not fuck with any of Five’s people, or you have to fuck with Five. And you do not want to fuck with Five.

(Gretchen) Vanya is quiet and subdued, to the point where people question how she’s a part of the school’s most popular trio. If you talk to her for long enough though, it becomes clear: she knows any and everybody’s secrets. She writes for the school paper, and is known to write the stories her subjects don’t want anyone else to find out about. Like Diego, who she outed as bisexual last year to throw people off the trail of her own secret relationship with Sissy, earning her an ex-girlfriend and an ex-friend. She’s been trying to win Diego’s forgiveness ever since, but he won’t talk to her, returning every single one of her letters and gifts. (He’s blocked her number and all of her socials, which she only created to talk to him anyway.) She doesn’t know why Five keeps her around - Klaus loves to gossip, but Five never seems to want any of her secrets. She’s pleasantly surprised to find out that he apparently actually enjoys her company. (What?)

(Karen) Klaus is a fucking mess. He plays the dumb blonde (well, brunette) despite being a genius in his own right, even if he’s not at Five’s level. (To be fair, he’s pretty sure no one is.) He’s a drag queen on the weekends, a hangover from his time in the mafia gang, which he joined with his boyfriend Dave for six months after running away from home. Dave died in a gunfight, and Klaus has been fucked up (well, more than usual) ever since. Anorexia, PTSD, anxiety, depression, self-harm, suicidal ideation, the works. But as lonely as he is, addicted to a fuckton of hard drugs and liquors to cope, he’s still an alluring, aloof, and bubbly popular girl, wearing pink skirts and glittery heels and leather corset crop tops to school every day. No matter how much his father Reginald beats him for it, he keeps being himself, because he’s brave and because even if Reginald hates him, someone far more important loves him… Diego. Diego, who Klaus has kissed under a million stars and in the lollipop shop down the road and on top of a cafeteria table. Diego, who Klaus has chased through the rain and into the street without rest or hesitation. Diego, whose words and promises and scribbles are immortalized on Klaus’ skin for all to see. Diego, who Klaus will love no matter how much bigotry they encounter or dickwads they’re beat up by or miles they put between them. Diego, Klaus’ ex-boyfriend.

(Cady) Allison is the new girl, and she has plans for the advantage being underestimated has brought her. She challenges Five on her first day there, earning his respect, and joins his group at the urgings of Klaus and Vanya, who like her company. A fashion queen, she acts as though she’s unfazed by any and everything, but nobody knows her true heartbreak - she still writes letters to a girl back home. Allison was expelled from her Christian private school for falling in love with a girl named Natalie, who she kissed in janitors’ closets and who she beat up racist and homophobic blondes for. She has no tolerance for bullies, and yet becomes one under Five’s guidance - until she upends his reign as queen bee and signs her death warrant. (Though she later finds out he was more angry at her for stealing Klaus and Vanya’s affection than his popularity.) Now her only hope for happiness in her final days is Ray, the Shakespeare-quoting nerd in her English class… or Luther, the quiet dork in the Star Trek t-shirts in her math class. Fuck, she misses Natalie.

(Aaron) Luther is the posterboard for toxic masculinity. He’s on the football team but hates it, preferring his math tutoring and fantasy books to tackling drills. His bisexuality is his deepest secret - he once slept with Diego when they were drunk at a party after a football game, and he can’t get it out of his head. He keeps thinking about what might happen if somebody found out - would he be shunned like Diego? Trapped like Vanya? Plastic like Klaus? He doesn’t know. All he can do is continue to be kind and hope Allison loves him enough to love every part of him, beyond his good lucks and British accent and fucking Ray. So Luther stands up to Five, and pays the price. He compliments Klaus on his skirts, and pays the price. (Diego seems to simultaneously love and hate him for it, it’s confusing.) He holds the door open for Ben, and pays the price. He’s big enough to be scary, kind enough to be overlooked - but after that incident with Vanya, everyone looks at him like he’s a monster to be locked up. And soon enough, “star student” Luther, “teacher’s pet” Luther, “completely under the principal’s thumb and completely friendless and completely terrified of the world around him” Luther might just break under all that pressure.

(Janis) Diego is the school’s resident outcast and rebel punk - he wears skirts and fishnets and whatever the fuck he wants because if Klaus taught him anything when they were dating it was that gender is a construct and he looks hot in leather. They broke up when Diego was outed and Klaus chose to stay quiet when people started shunning Diego for it, but despite it all, Diego still loves him. He misses when they used to paint their nails together, because he has to paint his own now. They used to stare up at the stars together and fall asleep in the grass, curled up in each other, on the nights that Klaus would run away in terror from his dad and Diego would breathe with him and let him press his hand against his heart until Klaus’ panic died down. His heart still flutters when he sees Klaus smile around a lollipop… but he won’t take him back. He won’t. He just can’t forgive him. So instead, he talks to his mom about everything. He plays soccer with his sister Eudora. He paints shit while smoking weed with his best friend Lila. He thinks of Luther being scared of him and laughs. You know, he was almost in Allison’s position freshman year - Five loved him, and so did Klaus and Vanya, but then Vanya outed him to the whole school for no reason like a day before he and Klaus were going to come out together. And now they’re all estranged, and Diego has the strangest feeling that he’s lost his family, even though his mom is the only real family he’s ever known. But maybe he’s wrong. Because Klaus keeps sending him “anonymous” letters, leaving them on the porch and spilling secrets Diego never even would’ve imagined him having. But forgiveness is still a question - that is, until one day Diego gets a letter in a different handwriting: Five’s, telling him to man the fuck up and love Klaus before he kills himself trying to tear the stars down for Diego’s own personal pleasure, and suddenly, Diego is crying on his porch in the rain, missing a slender, sassy skeleton in his arms and a pink, bruised but unbroken heart in his chest.

(Damien) Ben is everyone’s favorite, and the kindest person in the world. He used to be Klaus’ best friend, but that ended when Ben got into an accident (there was a bus involved, that’s all you need to know) that landed him in a wheelchair and Klaus couldn’t deal with the mental pain it caused him. They still stare at each other longingly from across the cafeteria, but never say a word to each other, not even in class. But beyond Klaus, Ben has never had any friends, though he has a million aquaintances: he’s the only student in the school that everyone loves and respects. Five holds the door for him, though Ben can tell without having to ask that Five would rather nobody know that. He hangs out with Diego because he knows Diego’s lonely, even if he never wants to admit it. He advises Allison not to let anyone control her, telling her he knows Natalie from summer camp and that the deaf girl still loves her and reads every single one of her letters. He gives Vanya his lunch when she skips to cry in the gym after Diego yells at her, even though a part of him might think she deserves it sometimes. He plays sports with Luther after school and offers him an ear and some jokes about his problems, and a few touchdowns when he’s feeling good. He acts as Ray’s student consultant, because he knows how hard Ray works to treat him like an equal. He tutors Eudora in basically everything, but cuts study sessions short to play video games when he can tell she’s too stressed to think. He’s ace and pan and proud about it; he runs the school’s GSA; he defends Diego and uses the right pronouns for Lila when they’re alone without Lila ever having to him he’s trans. He bugs Reginald’s office in one of their many meetings and records enough conversations to get him fired when he tries to expel Five. And finally, karma rewards him - Klaus shows up at his house with a box of brownies he baked himself, all covered in smiley faces, and shoves them into Ben’s hands, shaking his head when Ben assumes they’re for Diego. I miss you, Klaus tells him, and Ben tugs him down into a kiss, pulling away with a stammered apology. I’m sorry, he blushes, and Klaus beams, leaping into his lap and hugging him closer than ever, the two of them queerplatonic partners from then on, forever linked by their fingers in the hallway. Happy. Finally.

Lila is the shy artsy kid who carries around one of those leather brown satchels that looks threatening but is really just code for “I think I’m too cool for a backpack so I stuff all my incorrect homework and favorite comic books into this sack of knockoff pig skin instead”. He’s covered in paint most of the time, and wears Alice in Wonderland combat boots and Sharpie-doodle-covered jeans and big black hoodies and soft grey beanies; he’s trans and hacked off his own hair until an undercut with choppy slash bangs and there’s pink streaks in them, of course, to match the bubblegum he’s always chewing. His nails are bitten and black, and his skin is decorated with tattoos that are almost exclusively Bo Burnham quotes, with the exception of Diego’s name right over his heart. (Diego has Lila’s name over his too - and Klaus’ and Eudora’s, though he’d never tell them that.) He gives his skirts to Klaus and gets along well enough with Five, them both being trans and all, and everyone else knows him as that kid who’ll spread rumors and steal things for bribes. It’s not like he can get in more trouble than he’s already in - he lives with his bigoted and abusive bitch of a mom. But Diego is his best friend - the one he shoots and stabs things with, the one whose ex-boyfriend he talks to because Diego will never admit to himself that he misses Klaus like he would his own lungs if they were torn from his chest, the one whose sister he’s in love with. Wait. Fuck. Oops.

Eudora is Diego’s sister, and the captain of the soccer team. She wears her red jersey with the white numbers to school every day, and is covered in tattoos of magical creatures, because she believes in all of them. She wishes she was a werewolf, and has dressed up as one every year for Halloween since she was ten. (And she’s let anyone dressed a werewolf give her a hickey just in case that turned her. It’s good to have all your bases covered.) She has a broken down pick-up truck named Travis-Trevor-Thomas-literally-any-other-T-name that she loves beyond belief, and drives Diego to and from school in it, though he grumbles about it every day. She eats lunch with him even though he insists he’s fine eating alone and wants her to go away, because she knows he’s lying, and she hangs around the GSA with him sometimes too. She’s lab partners with her brother’s “secret” ex-boyfriend, and is concerned by how quiet he is - she’s seen enough documetaries to know that quiet never means anything good. But unfortunately, she has her own academic drama to deal with - Hazel and Cha-Cha hate her for helping Klaus, and she hates them right back, leading to failing grades in both English and history no matter how brilliant her work is. Mostly, though, Eudora tries to get to know Lila - the pretty, angry, sarcastic emo boy she shares half her classes with, and flirts with every day despite how he ignores her. (ONLY because Lila still smiles and laughs every time she flirts with him, and Eudora knows from Diego that Lila thinks Eudora only flirts with him because it’s some sort of game of “if you get the guy who’s hard to get you win the hundred dollar bet” deal. Otherwise she would’ve backed off immediately because not doing so would be harassment.) Eventually, though, Eudora runs off-field in the middle of a soccer game and over to the stands to ask Lila to prom. Finally, she gets a yes - and, most importantly, a real smile, curled against her own mouth like a Cupid’s bow of promise.

Sissy is Vanya’s ex-girlfriend, and Fuckwad Carl’s current girlfriend. She hooked up with him after breaking up with Vanya, too drunk to even speak, and now her belly’s ballooning and her parents are gonna kick her out unless she marries him like a good Christian woman. And she really didn’t expect herself to tell them to fuck off for this one, but apparently lesbianism makes you do crazy things - so here she is, standing on Ray’s porch in the pouring rain and hoping for the best. She’s depressed and shows that by reading the Bronte sisters; Klaus opens the door for her and brings her notes with doodles all over them which makes her cry; she misses Vanya but hates her for what she did to Diego. And yet Vanya’s there when she goes to the abortion clinic, smiling and joking and holding her hand like always. One day she’ll have a baby and she and Vanya will raise it right, but fuck - that baby sure as hell won’t be Carl’s. (Because fuck that guy.)

Ray is a humanitarian, so, naturally, he’s also the student council president. Five has never mistreated him, because everyone loves and respects Ray, even his critics. He nurtures Allison’s intelligence and encourages Vanya’s musical habits. He tutors Klaus in basically every subject but never talks down to him because he knows the kid’s a genius, just a bit spacey from all the drugs (and the ADHD, let’s be honest). He helps bring Luther out of his shell and takes Lila out shopping for boy clothes, all of which he pays for himself. He’s not scared or offended by Diego’s sarcasm or intensity, instead greeting him every day in class with a new dad joke. He treats Ben to intelligent conversation like an equal and doesn’t let Five be so harsh he’ll regret it later, though he still lets him say what he means and be himself. Everybody knows he’ll be the real President one day - even if for now he wears pajamas to school every day because, in his words, “Clothes are just too much fuckin’ work, man.” (There’s a possibility he may have still been high from hanging out with Klaus that day.)

The Handler is the evil physics teacher. (I don’t know why I said evil clearly all science teachers are evil.) (Yes this is coming from a place of aggression but hey at least I recognize that.) (Plus he deserves it. So fuck you.) (*sticks tongue out*) (Don’t you see how mature I am?) (I’m sorry I’m sorry back to your regularly scheduled programming -) She’s Lila’s mom, and continually and constantly misgenders him (and Five!) in class, not even because she hates trans people, just because she hates him (and Five!). Five always challenges her dictatorial rule, refusing to participate in solidarity with Klaus when she forces Klaus to sit out for wearing skirts. She keeps trying to flunk Ray too, the little bitch, but he just keeps doing so well that she can’t even come up with a falsely plausible reason to fail him! She’s been bribing Hazel and Cha-Cha to flunk certain students for years, unaware that Lila has been stealing from the Handler’s own purse to double those prices for those students to ace their classes. Everybody hates her, and for good reason. I hope she gets fired. (Shut up and let me project onto fictional characters, assholes.)

Reginald is the evil principal and Klaus’ abusive dad. He sends Klaus to school every day in a boys’ “uniform”, which Klaus has to change out of in the bathroom every day with borrowed clothes from Allison. (Anything he owns lives at her house; they have an agreement.) Once Klaus forgot to wash off his nail polish before Reginald came home and he broke all of Klaus’ fingers one by one. (Agnes wants to beat him into dust with a rolling pin.) Klaus stays at Diego’s house a lot, though Klaus refuses to come after they break up even though Diego makes it clear that his door will always be open. Five, therefore, is super protective of Klaus - every time he comes over, he’s super respectful when Klaus is in the room and then verbally rips Reginald to shreds as soon as he’s gone. He once stayed over for an impromptu sleepover when he noticed that Klaus was terrified-ly coming up with more and more ridiculous excuses for Five to stay and not leave him alone with Reginald, and as soon as Klaus was asleep, tiptoed around the house to set up bugs and cameras he got from Ben. He gives all of the evidence to Eudora to deliver to the police, who arrest Reginald and leave him to rot in a cement cell for the rest of his sorry fucking life while Klaus goes on to live Happily Ever After because fuck you and your stupid as shit traditionalism and inhumane experiments you lying scheming fuckwad of a psychopathic monster toad.

Hazel is the exhausted English teacher. His secret? He hates every book he teaches. Also he’s been taking bribes from the Handler and Lila because teachers don’t get paid enough in our society. Also his wife Agnes of twenty years divorced him a year ago for the whole bribery situation and he’s been sleeping in his car and using the school’s facilities to appear fine. Yeah, Hazel’s a mess. ANYWAY - Five is the only one who seems to know what’s going on, and Hazel would like to keep it that way. He knows Klaus is a genius with words but doesn’t know how to tell him that, and he knows Diego’s favorite book is Pride & Prejudice by Jane Austen and has agreed to take that secret to his grave. (What, it’s a good book!) His class is the only place Diego and Klaus dare to interact, and he’s noticed - they often pair up for assignments and take to the floor or beanbags in the corner, often cuddling up and giggling over whatever book or assignment they’ve been sent off to read or do. Hazel also has another hopeless couple he teaches, Lila and Eudora - eventually Hazel starts leaving Lila’s sappy poems about Eudora on Eudora’s desk when she comes in for her own class (separate from Lila’s) because there is no other way those two idiots are getting together, let’s be honest. There’s just too much communication. Mostly Hazel misses his own wife, Agnes - but he’s been out of luck since he cashed it in with the science department, hot cocoa whore that he is.

Cha-Cha is the history teacher, and she has all the sass and dry sarcasm required for that job. She will beat a bitch up for telling her she can’t teach critical race theory, and plays Drunk History and Overly Sarcastic Productions in her class basically every day. She doesn’t believe in tests because if she did she’d have to grade them, and she likes animated kids’ movies and TV shows, especially Paw Patrol and Sofia the First. (Yes, obviously she’s single. She’s also ace-aro, so who the fuck cares.) She takes the Handler and Lila’s bribes because she runs an underground wrestling ring and would like to continue feeding her pitbulls gourmet food. The only kid she’s truly on edge with is Five, who often challenges her in debates - she can’t decide if she’s impressed or enraged about it. Whatever. School’s out, bitches.

Agnes is the art teacher who knows everything about everybody. All of her art is of donuts. (Of course.) She’s a damn good cook, especially of pizza - and donuts. (Naturally.) She always has munchkins available for her students - and donuts! (She always saves the chocolate glazed and jelly ones for Five and Klaus.) She likes to rap explicit beats in her car and play her music so loud it shakes the ground and you can hear it from miles away. (Obnoxious.) So she doesn’t restrict her kids’ projects because that’s not what art is about. (And because it would make her a hypocrite, obviously.) Sure, she divorced Hazel, but hey - she’s living her best life, and eventually he’ll come to his senses and come crawling back to her at three a.m. to badly lipsync a Justin Bieber song about missing her, and she’ll leap out the window into his giant hairy arms and kiss him on his ginormous teddy bear face. Because Agnes, at heart, is a hippy. (And that’s love, bitch.)

Grace is Diego and Eudora’s (and everybody’s!) mom. She goes out for drinks with Agnes on the weekends and to clubs with Pogo every Friday (the librarian/unofficial therapist who acts as her mouthpiece when Diego does something stupid and won’t listen to her advice, the moron). She’s kind to everyone, but takes no one’s bullshit: you hurt her kids, you die. Important Notice: Everybody Is Her Kid. So be kind to everyone, dickwads. Well - except Reginald. And the Handler. Both of whom she bitchslaps for mistreating her precious babies. She then takes in Klaus because Diego loves him, and Ben because Klaus loves him, and Lila because both Diego ad Eudora love him. The only reason she didn’t take in Sissy was because Ray already had her taken care of. She’s a literal angel sent from heaven and we should all be worshipping her like the goddess she is I’m sorry I don’t know when this became Grace Appreciation Day™ but hey I’m here for it and I have no regrets.

[hockeylvr59]

Secret Love Part 17 || Cale Makar

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: If you’re surprised by this surprise chapter drop you don’t really know me at all do you. I mean...THE BOY WON THE CALDER...OF COURSE THAT DESERVES A POST!!!! What better way to celebrate than with some cowboy calder cale?

Warnings: cursing, awkwardness

Word Count: 2,799

~~~~~

Stampede was by far one of your favorite parts of summertime. Calgary erupted with good food and drinks and some great music. Of course, it was the last weekend of Stampede before you were finally able to make your way downtown to enjoy it. 

Having dipped out of work early, like pretty much everyone else since it was Friday after all, you went home and changed into a pair of denim shorts, a white tank and a light flannel shirt. Throwing on your seldom worn cowboy boots and grabbing your hat, you drove into downtown near Stampede Park. 

Cale and his family were already here and you texted him to see where they wanted to meet up. Grabbing your wallet you clipped your keys onto your shorts and pocketed your phone after receiving Cale’s text in response. Finally throwing your hat on, you weaved through crowds of people after entering the park, making your way over to the location Cale had directed you to. 

Spotting Cale before the rest of his family, you made your way over wrapping him in a friendly hug. You still hadn’t told your families you were together but it had only been four days since you’d shared your first ‘I love you’s’. Cale looked sexy as fuck dressed in jeans, his own flannel and cowboy hat. 

Thankfully you were distracted when Laura came over, pulling you away from her eldest son to chat about the plans for the night and whatever else was on her mind. It wasn’t long before Cale and Taylor were both pulling you away to go ride a couple rides and you laughed as the brothers bickered over which rides you needed to go on first. It had been like this every year for as long as you could remember and the outcome was always the same. Cale would claim older brother privilege while Taylor would plead for you to take his side. 

“I’m picking the first ride.” You declared pinching both boys in the side as you turned to walk toward your favorite. 

“Wait..what...that’s not how this goes?” Taylor sputtered. 

“It is now.” You insisted as you climbed onto the first ride. Taylor was pouting but Cale just shook his head going with the decision you’d made. 

“Oh stop the pouting.” You teased, bumping your shoulder against Taylor’s as you exited the ride a few minutes later. “You’re not a kid anymore.” 

“But I’m still…”

“The baby...I know.” You said shaking your head. “Your pick bud.” You proclaimed, causing Cale to whine. 

“Just make your brother happy...you know we’ll do your ride next.” You whispered as Taylor practically ran ahead to the next ride. Cale grumbled a bit but went along and you shook your head. “I forget that I have to babysit the two of you every year.” You joked. “I thought I was done with that when you both became adults.” 

Taylor’s ride was one of Cale’s least favorites, but he went along with it anyway before quickly dragging both of you to his choice after. By the time you finished that and the one ride all three of you agreed on, both of their stomachs were growling loudly. 

“Okay boys...let’s go find mom and dad.” You declared. The words had slid from your mouth without a second thought and while Cale didn’t seem to notice them either, Taylor did a double take as he raced to catch back up. 

The five of you got dinner at one of the many food stands before settling in at a picnic table to eat. Conversation flowed easily, you truly felt like a part of this family and that was even without considering your new relationship with Cale. Though a tiny part of you was worried about what his family would think...what your family would think...you felt confident that nothing was really going to change. You fit here and your relationship with Cale could only improve that. 

After dinner, you all started walking around, stopping at various vendor tents, killing time before heading over to the Nashville North stage for the nightly concert. 

“We’re going to go get drinks...why don’t you and Cale head to grab spots?” Laura declared. As Cale’s family walked in the other direction, you looked over at Cale. He really looked so fucking handsome and you couldn’t help but slip your hat off as you took a step closer to him, pressing up for a kiss. You’d been wanting to kiss him all afternoon but had refrained...now you couldn’t help yourself any longer. Cale’s hand slid into the curve of your back as he kissed you again, neither of you noticing that Laura had doubled back toward you, the question about whether you wanted a certain type of cider falling off as she witnessed you locking lips with her son.

“Are you two kidding me??” She practically shrieked, her eyes wide. His mother’s voice drew Cale’s attention and he pulled back from the kiss like he’d been shocked. It took another second for her voice to register in your ears as well but once it had you turned around, your stomach twisting violently. 

This was NOT how you planned to tell your families. 

Cale’s thumb rubbed circles against your back and though his cheeks were red, he still radiated an air of confidence as he looked over at Laura who had hardly moved. 

“What did you need mom?” He questioned, flipping the subject on its head away from the embarrassment flooding your cheeks. Laura repeated her question about the cider and when no response fell from your lips, Cale answered for you. 

“We’re going to talk about this later.” Laura mumbled as she looked between the two of you again. 

“Sure mom.” Cale agreed, his lips grazing against the top of your head. As she walked away, you turned in Cale’s arms, burying your head against his chest. “Well I don’t think that was what we had in mind.” He chuckled. 

“I blame the damn cowboy hat.” You mumbled, your words pulling a full laugh from Cale’s body. “Fuck.” You added, groaning softly. 

“It’s fine Y/N.” Cale insisted. “You know my parents love you. Yeah mom is a little shocked but it’s all gonna be fine. It’s not a big deal.” 

“Cale...your mom just saw me with your tongue down my throat…” You whined. 

“And she’s probably planning at least the engagement party if not the wedding…” Cale teased. “Hey…” He soothed. “I love you okay. Take a breath.” His arms tightened around you in a full hug and he pressed soft kisses along your head. “So our timing still sucks...but bright side…at least now we don’t have to figure out how to tell them.” 

Though you still weren’t fully composed, you let Cale pull you to the concert venue, where he pulled you back into his chest, his hands falling to your hips. When his family joined you it wasn’t clear whether Laura had said anything to Gary and Taylor or not. No one said anything about it at least, and you took the glass Taylor handed you, eagerly taking a large sip. 

Thankfully the band tonight was a good one and you were able to lose yourself in the music. The alcohol in the cider and the heat from Cale’s palm also helped ground you letting you enjoy yourself until the band packed up for the night and it was time to head home. 

“I’ll ride with Y/N and we’ll meet you back at the house.” Cale declared. Laura looked like she wanted to protest but a look from Gary silenced her and they headed off with Taylor in the direction of their car while Cale followed you to yours. “Want me to drive?” He inquired. “Or are you good?” 

Without hesitation you tossed him your keys, sliding into the passenger seat as anxiety crept back up on you. 

“Sweetheart...you gotta breathe.” Cale urged, his hand squeezing your own as he navigated through traffic. “I know you’re embarrassed but...you’re making this a bigger deal than it needs to be and I’m starting to think you’re not just embarrassed about the timing but about me.” 

Cale’s confession was vulnerable and you cursed silently, forcing yourself to take a deep breath. 

“You know that’s not it right? I love you. I just…” Every thought that had been racing through your head since you heard Laura’s voice now seemed utterly foolish and hurtful framed by Cale’s thoughts. 

“You’re right. We have nothing...or at least very little...to be embarrassed about.” You breathed. “I’m sorry for hurting you. That wasn’t my intention.” 

“I know it wasn’t.” Cale spoke softly. Regret sat uncomfortably in your stomach for the rest of the drive and once Cale put the car in park, you immediately unbuckled before racing around to his side. 

“I love you. I could never be embarrassed about being with you.” You whispered, pulling him into a soft but deep kiss. The sound of car doors slamming caused Cale to pull away and you looked up to find his family walking up the driveway behind you. “Let’s go share all the good news.” You murmured, your hand trailing down Cale’s chest gently until that smile you loved so much had returned to his face. 

“Yeah...let’s.” He agreed, his arm wrapped around your shoulders as you headed into the house. 

Cale’s family was waiting for you in the kitchen and though the weight of their gazes on you almost felt like an interrogation, you moved to grab bottles of water for you and Cale before settling onto a bar stool as Cale moved to stand behind you. 

It seemed like no one wanted to be the first to speak, but eventually it was Taylor who broke the silence. 

“Now the king size bed makes more sense.” His mumble made your jaw drop and you felt Cale fighting back a laugh. Seeing both your expressions and the looks of confusion on his parents’ faces Taylor continued. “What? She put a double bed in the master when she moved in and then swapped it with a king a week later...that made no sense. Now it does.” 

“Have you two been together this whole time?” Laura questioned, hurt flickering over her face. 

“If you mean since mid-May...yeah.” You admitted softly. 

“Two months...you’ve been together almost two months...and you didn’t think to tell us? Why?” Reaching across the island, you rested your hand over hers hoping that she wouldn’t pull away. 

“We kinda just wanted to feel it all out for ourselves first.”

“I didn’t want to have to answer a million questions when I went to see her.” You and Cale answered at the same time, though his answer was far more blunt than yours. 

“We were getting ready to tell you…” You sighed. “Just not like that.” 

“You mean I wasn’t supposed to find out by catching the two of you making out?” Laura teased, the mood in the room lightening significantly. 

“Apparently that was the cowboy hat’s fault.” Cale ribbed you to his whole family, his hands rubbing over your shoulders. 

“Throw me under the bus why don’t you.” You sassed back, sticking your tongue out at him as you tipped your head back. Cale pressed a quick kiss to your lips before you lowered your head and you smiled, heat rising in your cheeks. 

“How did this even happen?” Gary finally chimed in. “I mean I know your mother has been hoping for it for years but…” 

Though you left out quite a few details, you explained to Cale’s family how you’d realized something was there back in Denver but how you’d both waited until he came home before deciding to actually give it a shot. Taylor didn’t seem super interested and after giving you a quick hug and sharing a look with Cale he mumbled that he was going upstairs. 

“So when I suggested you take her to Iceland with you?” Laura mentioned, refocusing the conversation after Taylor’s disappearance. 

“I was already planning on asking.” Cale stated. Watching the two of you for a moment - the way you looked at each other, how your bodies reacted to each other - her eyes suddenly went wide. 

“There are more pictures aren’t there?” She gasped.

“Yeah there are more.” You nodded, taking Cale’s phone as he dropped it into your hands so that you could pull up the album. Sliding the phone across the island, you watched as Gary and Laura scrolled through them for a few minutes. When she looked up, tears were in her eyes and you couldn’t help but slide off of your stool to round the island. 

With your arms wrapped around her tightly, you felt your heart swell. 

“This is serious?” She whispered. Nodding, you smiled. 

“As serious as it gets.” You agreed. “We don’t know what the future holds...but we plan on finding out together.” A glance over at Cale almost made you cry because you could see in his eyes how much he enjoyed seeing you like this with his mom. 

“I already told her I love her.” Cale admitted. 

“No…” Laura gasped, the excitement on her face growing. 

“Yeah mom...we’ve said I love you.” You said. Laura’s face froze for a moment before she blinked quickly. 

“You just called me mom…” Though her words expressed shock, her face was hopeful and though you hadn’t even realized the implications of your word choice, you shrugged. 

“In love with your son or not...you’ve always been my second mom.” You insisted. “I guess I never realized that I hadn’t called you that before.” 

“I’d love for you to call me mom.” Laura promised. “You’ve always been my daughter but maybe my son will finally make it official.” Cale’s face was a mix of ‘don’t look at me’ and ‘you can bet on it’ and you sent him a smile. 

“There’s no rush on that. Right now we just want to enjoy the summer. Enjoy each other. We’ll take things a step at a time from there.” You assuaged her. 

“You don’t know how happy I am right now.” Laura nearly squealed. “Still a little shocked but so happy.” Hugging her again, you watched as she moved to hug Cale as well, leaning up to whisper in his ear causing his cheeks to flush. 

“You’ve always made him a better person.” Gary’s voice floated quietly to your ears. “He’s scored way outta his league with you.” 

“I don’t know about that.” You denied, stepping into Gary’s open arms. “Is it cool if I call you dad?” You whispered, hesitantly. 

“Of course it is.” He quickly agreed. “You are our daughter after all.”

Pulling back, you let out a yawn. “Cale...why don’t you take your girl home.” Gary instructed. 

Promising Laura that you would tell your own parents over the weekend, you eventually made your way out the door with Cale. You felt like you were about to burst from the love and acceptance you felt and you couldn’t help but kiss Cale as he moved to open your car door for you. 

“I told you it would be fine.” Cale murmured. 

“Don’t get used to always being right.” You warned jokingly. 

Cale’s hand fell to your thigh on the short ride home and you just watched him as he drove, your brain replaying tonight’s conversations in your head. 

It wasn’t until you climbed out of your car that you spoke again. 

“So do you think dad told you to bring me home so that you didn’t have to be pestered by mom all night?” 

“Maybe...either way I’m not complaining.” Cale smirked, unlocking your front door, holding it open for you. Kicking off your boots, you started down the hall toward the bedroom. Undressing in silence, you fell into bed beside Cale. You didn’t have to sleep alone tonight and that was honestly the best part of all of this. 

“I love you calling my parents mom and dad.” He whispered as your bodies curled together. “I never really thought about that aspect of things but you having that close of a relationship with them just makes me fall even more in love with you.” 

“I love them. Almost as much as I love you.” Your soft chirp turned to a shriek as Cale tickled you before pressing his lips to yours. The heat behind the kiss was minimal, enough to turn it into a make-out session but not enough to push it into anything more. Instead you just shared lazy kisses until you were practically falling asleep. 

And wrapped in Cale’s arms you slept soundly for the first time in two weeks. 

[ashenburst]

Let It Happen

Fugo x Reader, fluff, 3861 words. Y’all aren’t in a relationship, but you might get into one after the events of this oneshot <3

Purple Haze has a special role here!

A new mission landed in Buccellati's hands. A retaliation ought to be carried out. That alone was a peculiar request, for Buccellati's team wasn't meant for these tasks – but since a higher-up commanded so, no reluctance would be shown. You and Fugo were chosen to do the dirty deed.

This selection was odd too, in your opinion at least. Despite being in the group for a month or so, you picked up on many patterns in their dynamics. When it came to missions, for example, Fugo participated by far the least. Buccellati avoided sending him for some reason. You assumed that his stand simply wasn't adequate.

Thinking more about it, you concluded that it truly was unusual. That and the fact that, out of all team members, you grew to be the closest to him, and yet did not know anything about his ability.

You had the opportunity to ask, but chose not to. You were no nosy type, and you wouldn't pry in case someone didn't wish to speak. You realized right at the beginning that these abilities wouldn't be easily shared with you, for you were new. The general distrust taught you not to snoop, and you were fine with that.

Fugo evidently had no desire to bring up his stand, so why rile him up? It wasn't even that important. Someday, you would find out its power, the same way you chatted to the Pistols and observed Aerosmith's pirouettes.

Understanding and patient as you were, this slow, mannered approach of yours earned immediate approval among your teammates. You recognized your boundaries and never overstepped them, thus remaining on everyone's good side. Even Abbacchio took a quick liking to you. And according to Fugo, that was extraordinary.

Things would reveal themselves on their own, in the right place and time, you reckoned. Upon being assigned your mission, this mindset was awarded. You glanced over to Fugo, knowing you'd soon get to see his stand in action.

"If it's no problem, Buccellati, I just have to finish correcting Narancia's assignments, then we can go," he explained to the team leader. Buccellati nodded in agreement.

"Make sure you're quick."

"Absolutely! Looks like Narancia has been improving, so this will be fast. In fact, he hasn't made a single mistake."

Narancia was sitting next to Fugo with a massive grin, staring at the many check marks and not a single cross on the paper.

"Not a single mistake, you say?" Mista repeated.

"Not a single mistake indeed," Fugo confirmed, vastly proud. This only made Mista laugh.

"Should I tell him?" Mista turned towards Abbacchio, and the white-haired male chuckled. They exchanged mischievous looks. You knew nothing good would come out of this, and so your brows knitted together in worry. Looking back to Narancia and Fugo, you noticed the once grinning boy had a slightly panicked expression. Just what was happening...?

"Tell me what?" Fugo too was beginning to get wary.

"Nothing!" Narancia abruptly responded instead of Mista. He couldn't have made himself more suspicious, you thought, squinting your eyes. You were absolutely certain he was hiding something and he was hiding it from Pannacotta Fugo. Did Narancia value his life that low?

You truly didn't want to see your dear friend vexed all over again, simply because of that boy's silly scheme. So you watched carefully, trying to dismantle this mess in your head before it would be too late.

The gunslinger laughed again, this time with a hand over his mouth. The fact even Abbacchio couldn't keep his amusement to himself, and instead smiled profusely, was enough of an omen.

"Boys, what are you hiding?" Buccellati's question was supposed to bring out some clarity in this situation. However, it failed to, for nobody wanted to speak up.

Fugo skewed the topic a little. "I have no idea what's happening, but I should announce that Narancia hadn't made a single mistake. Good job!"

"Hehe. Easy peasy lemon squeezy," Narancia responded to that.

"Gimme a high five, Narancia," Mista suggested and bent over the table, his hand in the air for Narancia to... not high five it. He shook his head no in awkward refusal.

"Why not?" Mista faked his sadness. "Come on, a little high five. Low five? Any five?"

Narancia grimaced. You rolled your eyes and offered your insight. "Is it that hard to lift your hand and high five Mista? Look." You did it instead of Narancia, which caused Mista a radiant grin. Despite this, the black-haired boy refused. Your doubts were fueled in abundance.

"Is there a reason why you don't want to show your hands?"

Narancia stuck out a tongue at you and lifted his left hand. "Nah. And is there a reason why Fugo and you are being late for the mission?" Oh dear, he was getting too defensive, which you noted with a blank face.

"Narancia!" Fugo scolded. He tried to reach out to the boy's right hand, but Narancia moved it away.

"Narancia, behave yourself immediately and stop this nonsense," Buccellati silenced him. He looked at you, then Fugo. "And you two aren't being late. I believe I know what's behind this farce, so there's no need to ruin yet another table to find out." The leader glared at Narancia and Fugo who were both in uncomfortable positions.

"It's evident, Buccellati. He's been cheating and wrote the answers on his hand," Fugo hissed, letting go of Narancia's biceps. The boy winced.

"On his fingers, to be exact," Abbacchio added nonchalantly.

"Oh fuck off," Narancia grumpily cursed and crossed his arms. Buccellati told you and Fugo to leave, and that he would deal with this problem himself. He tossed you the car keys with a chilling look. It was eerie, you had to admit. But you were glad you didn't get to witness Buccellati's anger, and thus were left with something just a tiny bit better: an annoyed Fugo.

Consequently, the mission began in silence. The two of you exited Libeccio with little to no information available. You knew the location of only one of your targets, and through that one man, you were supposed to find other people behind this conspiracy against the Famiglia. This was a job for your stand, obviously – you would pinpoint and track any target once it's marked. However, it had no destructive power, because it was literally a pair of binoculars. What could you do with them, hit someone in the head?

That was where you supposed Fugo's stand would step in. Something deadly for sure, to kill off everyone in this group. If what Buccellati had heard was correct, they had a meeting later that day, meaning all of them would be gathered on one spot. Convenient for killing.

You reached the car Buccellati was kind enough to borrow. You unlocked it and were about to enter, when you felt Fugo's hold on your hand. "I can drive," he offered.

"Are you sure?" Being the newest member meant you had the honor of driving others every single time, and you were used to that obligation. Seeing that Fugo could do that instead of you was... a surprise, simply put.

Although you asked such a meaningless question, Fugo found a reason to be annoyed. The violets of his eyes turned a shade darker. "I wouldn't be offering that if I weren't sure."

Sure, having a literal hedgehog of a person by your side wasn't too pleasant. But he was surprisingly easy to read. At the slightest signs of his irritation coming, you would make sure to avoid any future provocations. It wasn't a hard thing to do, not at all.

Fugo had good intentions and if his problems with rage were overlooked, you knew he would be an absolute angel. This time, similarly, he was trying to help. It was something you could only appreciate. So you nodded and responded, as calm as you could get, "Then thank you for being a gentleman. That's very nice of you."

Internally, you weren't as relaxed. What was it that you had just said? You bit your tongue. It sounded so weird, didn't it? But you just wanted to compliment Fugo.

And every time, he'd be positively baffled. He let go of you, his gaze switching its focus back and forth between your hand and your peaceful visage. Lastly, he smiled. Of course he did. "Why, it's nothing! You're welcome!" The way he'd always brighten at your understanding nature, ever so shyly, ever so innocently – it was something that never failed to make your heart flutter.

. . .

When Buccellati said you wouldn't be late, he was absolutely right. The man you were after was in his house and did not move at all. It took you about an hour of waiting to finally see him leave his residence, and hopefully, head to the remainder of the conspirators. But beforehand, you made sure to comfort Fugo about Narancia's cheating; luckily, it worked, and Fugo was quick to thank you.

After you had spotted the target with your stand, marked it on the tiny map on the binoculars, you followed the man's drive all the way to the rural parts of Napoli. Fugo wasn't exactly... the gentlest driver out there. Every now and then (to be exact, every time he would hit the brakes or start accelerating), you were reminded that it would've been way better if you were the one at the steering wheel. Oh well, too late to change that.

The neighborhood you were lead into was in deep neglect, and yet, nature found a way to make it pretty. Rebellious was the grass all around, falling over the sidewalk, and an occasional flower laid here and there to further disarrange the scenery. Trees grew in unorderly batches, not a single straight line to mark a well-planted row. Amongst the green, buildings were a scarce sight, but nothing short of unpleasant. Most were vandalized in one way or another, and the usual warm, prideful architecture in Napoli's center was completely absent in their build. It was almost as if you were in a completely different city.

The good thing about this tracking situation was that you didn't have to see the target's car, you had the map on your stand. Consequently, the target would have no guess that he was being followed. You were far enough not to be noticed.

And once the target slowed down, you knew he was on his feet. You informed Fugo and he, unfortunately, sped up. Dashing through the streets, the two of you quickly reached your target's proximity. That was when you told Fugo to park the car, which he did, albeit sloppily.

You got out of the car and walked to the house inside which the man had gone. You checked once again if the location on your binoculars' map matched the one you were in front of. It did. Your spot on the map was almost the same as that of the marked man's.

"He's in there," you confirmed.

"I'll send in my stand to get this over with," Fugo told you in a hush, "but we'll have to get near."

He walked over to the brick wall, and you followed. He leaned against it, standing by the window, then lifted a hand towards you.

"(Y/N)? Would you please move a little?"

You nodded and backed off. "Your stand?"

He nodded back. Next to him, the long-awaited mystery of a stand emerged. It was an oblique humanoid figure, shrouded in...

"Purple Haze!" Fugo presented his somber stand, and to announce his appearance, Purple Haze groaned. It wasn't only the jarring sound that abandoned his mouth. Through bared teeth and the stitches on his mouth, saliva, yes, so much saliva dripped – down his chin, onto the ground in long slivers. Tethered above was a pair of manic eyes that screamed of bewilderment, and spoke to you with its deadly stare. A sleek visor, curling down like a preying beak, was the only frail filter between you and Purple Haze's aggressive gaze.

The remainder of his attributes were sent into oblivion. You could not redirect your attention. It was wholly, utterly enslaved to this bane's eyes and its low growls. Was this monstrosity the manifestation of Fugo's soul?

One elaborate scene lasting a single instant, no more. That was enough to render you terrified. The very next moment, Fugo had his stand enter the house through the window – he cracked the glass with a high kick and swooped inside, that menace.

Fugo's menace. The mafioso stared back at you, his expression darkened by newfound misery. Your shock must've impacted him, and you knew, he felt bad for petrifying you. He told a lengthy explanation for you to, perhaps, calm down. To console you.

"My stand is capable of releasing a deadly airborne virus. Since our targets are inside with Purple Haze, the virus won't reach us. Everything will be over in no time." Having finished that sentence, Fugo paused – screeches began rising from the house. "So there's no reason to worry. You're safe and sound," he assured, then looked away.

Truth be told, you weren't even scared, rather – intimidated. That's what you had told him to ease him, then sat on the warm curb right at your feet. Yes, this had to be over soon. Judging by the croaking screams, you were positive it wouldn't last long. Otherwise, you'd go insane. It was deeply unnerving to sit idly next to carnage, and not do anything else but take in the death.

But the wails died down, and another sensation would come in. You heard a thump next to you, footsteps nearing – and that frightening gruff hum tagged along. You looked upwards, and saw none other than Fugo's stand. He bore into you with his intense pupils. Their severity could not be handled. Reflexively, you jumped on your feet, staggering backwards, and were about to scream for Fugo when you realized something was happening.

Your brows knitted together, you blinked, once, twice, thrice, unsure if you were seeing this right. Purple Haze ducked and picked a flower from the ground. He lifted it, a gesture meant for you and you only.

"Purple Haze...?" You whispered, not believing your vision a single bit.

Fugo's stand was murmuring incoherent gargles, hand still in the air, delicately holding the plant for you to take it. With his head hung low, the helmet hiding his face, it seemed almost as if he was... ashamed. If it weren't for the stark impression from before, you were certain you'd find this adorable.

And you were about to accept the precious gift when the stand user began yelling.

"Purple Haze! What the hell are you doing?!"

The stand made some guttural sounds, probably out of dissatisfaction, then turned towards his user. You, on the other hand, had to jump to the side because Fugo was yelling right into your ear.

You lifted your both hands, ready to cover your ears. "What's wrong?"

"(Y/N), get away from him. Right now!"

"B-but why?"

His fists balled up. "Just do it!" His sharp order made you flinch.

Strangely, although Fugo had ordered you to move, he got rid of his stand before you made more than a step. The ominous apparition vanished with a sound you could only perceive as sad – and so, the flower it had once held floated down to the ground. A sorrowful sight that trapped your fixation for a second or so. Afterwards, Fugo was heard.

"(Y/N), come here right now, please, just come," Fugo called out. You managed to discern desperation in his plea, but did not understand the excessive worry. It would be right to say you were slightly disturbed by the entire turnabout of events – and so, you quietly complied.

Once you reached him, he did not comment. You two began walking towards your car. He bore a grumpy façade, and likewise, shrouded his surroundings in uncomfortable silence. You debated if breaking it would be a good idea – you were unsure if you did something wrong, but then again, this guy could get stressed about the most minor of details.

As you saw for yourself, he had control over his stand. So why did he get so angry?

"Fugo."

"What?" He almost spat.

"I don't know what happened and why you reacted the way you did, but everything is fine. Nothing bad has happened."

Fugo grumbled in response. "Nothing bad has happened now, that's true. But promise me you will keep your distance from my stand."

"If it unsettles you that much, then no problem, I promise I'll do that." You tilted your head in his direction. The gloom in his expression had not faltered. "What's the deal with Purple Haze? Are you scared you can't control your stand?"

He snorted. "Absolutely not. I can control Purple Haze, but accidents happen, and I can't afford a stupid, preventable accident to cost an entire life. Your life. What if one of the sockets carrying the virus cracked when you took the flower? They're on his knuckles." Fugo lifted a fist. "You could've died then and there."

The gravity of the situation finally presented itself. With a nod and a newly formed lump in your throat, you acknowledged his explanation. You understood that his behavior stemmed from worry – so you couldn't help but feel bad for him, and yourself as well.

The risk was real and you could've succumbed to it. It was through dumb luck that you survived, and you knew that – but Fugo must've felt far worse, for it was him that the death would be blamed on.

"I'm sorry," you finally said, just in case. This surprised him.

"Why?"

Whereas others would continue blabbering or even arguing, inconsiderate in their wake, you were wise enough to stop. Just a little bit of patience did wonders. For you, to think things through – or even, to fasten your hold on the reins of usually wild conversations.

You happened to be one of the rare people willing to reconcile, sort things out peacefully. Compromise was what you were after; Fugo deserved it.

For he was a good person after all. He would eventually overcome his agitation and accept his faults. You knew this, and you knew how much he struggled to do so. Making things easier for him was the least you could do; you cared for him.

"For making you worry. I just didn't understand what was happening at the moment or why I might be in danger."

And it was through your apology that Fugo would find a reason to apologize himself.

"O-oh. It's fine. I... uh..." You heard him heave an aggravated sigh. "Never mind, you shouldn't be apologizing, it wasn't your fault anyway," he mumbled. Tone low paired with a tongue soft, you knew he was gradually calming down. Oddly, it relieved you as well.

Now, to lighten the conversation. Something very relevant. "It's okay. But hey, you have to admit it was super sweet of your stand to give me the flower," you pointed out.

You noticed that Fugo's jaw had clenched before his unconcerned reply. "And weird too. I wonder why he did that." He stopped in his tracks, thus confusing you.

"Something wrong?"

He was looking sideways, to the ground, at the moment you questioned him. Once he heard you, he whipped his head towards you, his eyes wide. "Not really. But give me a moment, please!" Then he stepped aside, to the very edge of the sidewalk, and squatted. You got even more confused.

When he stood up and turned around to face you, in his hand you saw a petite flower, similar to the one Purple Haze had once picked for you. But Fugo went a step further – he bowed, and even exclaimed dramatically:

"I'm sincerely sorry for lashing out on you. Please accept this flower as my humble apology!"

Oh, Fugo. Constantly nervous and so deeply insecure he was, fixing his mistakes and stepping over his rage, with countless of apologies and countless of tremors. His act was that of chivalry, and warmed your heart it did, however, his very own core was left in a qualm.

And the fact saddened you. You tried to joke around to make him laugh, if anything, to brighten his mood.

"Copying Purple Haze? So unoriginal." You rolled your eyes in a playful manner.

But Fugo, that poor boy, he misinterpreted your action. An awkward expression formed on his face as he straightened his back. "Well... you liked it when he did that...? So, uh..." His stammers were horrible to listen to. You had to do something, but what? How to show him that he was appreciated, forgiven? Show him –

You sighed, shook your head lightly. If it meant that you'd have to overstep your boundaries, then so be it.

Fugo's guard was low, so you took advantage of that to dive in for a tight hug. He simply froze – this surprised him vastly, you were certain. You were surprised as well. Purple Haze? That was nothing. Hugging Fugo was dozens of times scarier, or at least that was what your heartbeat rightfully dictated.

Because he was rigid. Unmoving, unsettling – unwelcoming.

The realization crept on you: you miscalculated. You quickly found yourself wanting to move away, doubts and misconceptions landing on your conscience like the worst of sham. It was as if you were rejected – no, no, you were being rejected, by someone who you truly cared for, and somehow, you understood in that regretful moment, by someone you wanted to care about you as well.

Affection, for him? That couldn't work, that would never work. You wanted to strip him off of it, for he could not handle it. That was when you felt him shift, move his arms upwards to – to actually hug you back.

Gentle words reached your ear, healing your hurting soul. "You... um, you smell nice," he complimented quietly. Just like that, a grin overtook your face. One statement, and he erased all of your aches.

You mumbled a thank you. Fugo would assume that it was simply gratitude for his kind words, but you knew its meaning was a lofty one – through this, you believed you realized your feelings towards him. And what once was a hurrying heartbeat that raced with fear, became a gleeful sensation that spread all over your chest.

Fleeting was the embrace, far too long and yet – surely not enough. Once the two of you stepped away from each other, no words were discovered to describe the moment. Fugo held a bashful smile, and you knew he wouldn't speak up first. You noticed a detail more, something that instantly made you chuckle.

"You dropped the poor flower," you told him with a pout.

"I... I had greater priorities other than holding it," he justified himself.

Priorities, he mentioned? Oh, you remembered something very important.

"Speaking of greater priorities, I am driving us back," you informed, placing your hands on your hips. Fugo had no choice but to agree.

Purple Haze was a fitting stand indeed. Misunderstood, just like his user, and undoubtedly a sweetheart.

[burnedbyshoto]

Awaken

Kinktober Day 4 ~ kink: bondage, praise

pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: smut, cursing

word count: 4,707

a/n: happy two month anniversary lovelies!!!!! we been here a full ass 60 days OMGGG well, have some shouto smut because we all know I LOVE HIM SO MUCH!!!! anyways sorry for yet another late upload, I got into a deep conversation with my roomie when I wasnt yet done with this

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Todoroki Shouto was an intriguing man.

When you first met him five years ago, in high school, you would have never thought you were going to be friends. He was rather cold, aloof, and sometimes rude. No amount of attractiveness could make that up to you, so you were hardly what you would consider friends.

Even after Shouto seemed to begin to overcome some of his demons. You were turned off by the idea of being his friend that you spent the rest of the first semester uncaring. You had no opinions for the powerful boy.

It wasn’t until he apologized to you during the summer training camp. An apology that caught you off guard, did you finally think you could become friends.

You two were fast friends at that too! Shouto and you had your own respective friend groups in your first year. But two times a week the two of you would eat lunch together.

So it went. The next two years of U.A. were incredible, the two of you helping each other out with areas of weakness. The areas you lacked in, Shouto excelled in, and vice versa. So it was no wonder the two of you were always paired up to spar.

It wasn’t until the third year when you sat with your entire class around you, did something happen. You and Shouto were having your own conversation outside of the one the class was having. Your hands shoving a grinning Shouto whenever he said something annoying.

“You guys are fucking disgusting,” Bakugou’s irritated voice snapped at the two of you during a moment of silence. Everyone was staring at the two of you, and Shouto and you were nonetheless wiser to it. “We’re trying to fucking eat here, could you for one damn minute stop fucking flirting?!”

Your cheeks flushed red.

Shouto stilled next to you.

Your eyes flashed over to Mina and Hagakure who were gaping. The girls were your closest friends here. You knew that those two, in particular, liked Shouto still. Which was why you never made a move, why you denied your feelings for Shouto for two years now.

“Oh my god, Kacchan!” Midoriya’s snickering voice sent everyone’s attention to the green-haired boy. He was sitting next to Bakugou. “No one says anything when you flirt with—“

“SHUT THE FUCK UP SHIT-KU!” Bakugou raged sending the conversation into a whole new tangent.

You and Shouto, however, stayed silent next to each other. Refusing to look at one another.

At the end of the day, you packed your bags, talking with Mina who was waiting for you to walk back to the dorms. You pulled on your jacket and said your goodbyes to the last lingering classmates in the room. It was, for the most part, the old Dekusquad as they had been playing a card game. Because they didn’t want it to be with the entire class, they stayed in the classroom.

You enjoyed finishing your homework in the classroom. So Mina would stay here with you as she would hang out with Uraraka and Tsu in the meantime.

You and Mina chatted about today’s lessons, as most conversations went. Mina was not that confident in her understanding of things. It wasn’t to say she was stupid. In fact, if you excluded Momo who was, in fact, a genius. The difference between the two spots in class and Mina’s spot was a total of six wrong questions. Yes, everyone had dramatically improved over the years.

“You know, y/n-chan,” Mina said clasping her hands together. “If you like Todoroki-kun, you should go for it!”

You snap your head to the pink girl who was grinning at you, a knowing look on her face. “Mina, but you—“

“Nuh-uh, girl, we all see how the two of you act with each other. It’s disgusting and super cute!” Mina sighs, the romantic in her shining right now. “Toru-chan and I are in love with his face and body! That’s all! Have you ever seen us have an actual conversation with him?”

“Well, that’s because you two, even three years later, drool when he talks to you instead of responding back!” You laugh, trying to mask your discomfort. Shouto couldn’t like you, you knew that he liked someone in the class, and you figure it was Momo. Of course, it was the worst girl to have a crush on, but you understood why he would! Momo was amazing but super gay.

“Even if you never existed, if you never came to U.A., it wouldn’t have changed anything!” Mina insisted, her hands squishing your cheeks between her hands as she stared at you. The two of you stopped moving as your face flushed embarrassed looking down at the ground. “If you like Todoroki-kun, go for it!”

“Mina, he doesn’t even like me though!” You say with a sad smile, but Mina laughs so hard your eyes widen as she sinks to the ground in tears. “Mina!”

“Girl, you’re literally the only person in the entire world who calls him ‘Shouto-kun,’ and he likes it!” Mina gasps as she lies on the floor, a loopy grin on her face. “Hop on that dick, please!”

“Y/n-chan,” Shouto’s voice is distant. You shriek feeling as if you had gotten caught doing something dangerous. Mina gets off the floor and throws her arm around you as the two of you await Shouto.

Your eyes stare at Shouto who looks like he ran the entire time to catch up with you. His shirt partially untucked, his tie loose, and without his jacket, he stares at the two of you. Your hands trying to hide your burning cheeks.

“Could I take y/n from you, for a bit Ashido?” Shouto asks turning his attention to Mina who nodded.

“Remember, Todoroki-kun, y/n loves caramel chocolates!” Mina says with a nod before she grins, laughing and running away as you begin to squeak in embarrassment.

You reluctantly return your attention to Shouto who stares at you. His eyes swimming in confusion.

“You look disgusting, where’s the proper Shouto I know?” You say, not wanting to look at Shouto instead tugging at his untucked shirt. Your fingers tightening his tie as he goes to tuck in his shirt.

Shouto never stops looking at you, his lips pursed as you finally reach his gaze. “I need to tell you something.” He begins, and your stomach flips and flops. “Well, I should’ve done it earlier, but I just didn’t.”

You can’t deny that your heart begins to pound as he reaches his hand into his pocket, and your breathing stops. What in the actual fuck was he—?

“Your eraser, you forgot it,” Shouto says placing your white eraser into the palm of your hand and you freeze. Your soul freezing up and cracking into a million pieces as you take it with a quick nod.

“Oh… I could’ve just gotten it back tomorrow, Shouto-kun!” You squeak snatching the eraser from his hands and shift your backpack so you can throw it in. Your cheeks burn as you bow in thanks, turning on your heel so that you could run to Mina and start crying.

Before you could get that far away, his hands clenched on your wrist and pull you back in. You stumble into his chest, your hands pressed flat against his chest.

You feel a hammering heartbeat, but you’re too afraid to ask if it’s his or yours. “I like you,” Shouto admits, and you snap your head up towards his, your cheeks burning red.

“I… you… oh my god…” You feel faint as you attempt to understand, your head spinning as he’s intoxicatingly too close. His body burning and freezing you. His fresh detergent smell overwhelming your person.

Ever so the reactionary person, you can’t conjure the words to reciprocate his feelings. So instead, you lean up to press your lips clumsily against his own. It’s short, soft, and sweet.

Blushes exploding over both your faces as you nod, “I’ll see you later?” You ask, your voice pitching.

“Yes, tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

His lips are back on yours and you can only think of throwing your arms around his neck. You kiss him with enough passion to make Shouto pull away prematurely.

Both your cheeks are blazing hot and without saying much, the two of you walk away from each other. Both of you unaware of the screaming onlookers of your classmates. All who had been trying to get the two of you to confess for a solid year now.

That was two years ago.

Now at twenty years old, you stared at your boyfriend who was eating his bowl of rice and salmon. His eyes concentrated on the food as you pushed yours around distracted.

You loved Shouto, truly you did. But your sex life was a means… of a mockery.

To put it in simpler terms, making out was much more exciting than fucking, and it made no sense to you. You could be grinding away on his lap. His hands roaming your figure as another simple kiss turned into a make-out session. You were on your shared bed, clothes stripped off, and you sunk into his dick. Like clockwork, he froze up.

All passion and intensity went and Shouto stared up at you with lit eyes as you would attempt to get the two of you off.

Even when he came, he was quiet, his eyes fluttering shut as he would fight the loudness of his orgasm. Panting as you felt nowhere near done, at first it was okay. But given it was nearing a year since the first time the two of you had sex for the first time, you were sick of it.

You loved being on top, you enjoyed it so much! But Shouto took it in a way that he was unresponsive and just sort of laid there. You were twenty and wanted to get dicked down so good by your insanely hot and amazing boyfriend.

So with regrets and no regrets, you asked the girls for help. They all seemed to be having a better sex life than you were anyways.

The six of you boiled it down to doing two things to get Shouto to snap out of this shell he sunk himself into.

Bondage and praise.

You had to admit, the first few times having sex was extremely awkward, so you never praised him. But in a non-sexual environment, Shouto loved praise. Hell, he had hugged you for twenty minutes after you praised him for his meal cooking.

You had no idea how things were going to go tonight, but you had made a plan and you prayed something was going to work.

You stood up from the kitchen table and went over to Shouto and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll be right back.” You promise as you walk over to your bedroom.

You got onto your hands and knees as you reached underneath your bed and you dragged out a box. Opening it, you smile seeing what you were going to need for the night. You let out a shaky breath as you put it back under the bed.

Shouto and you had vanilla sex, you knew that. It seemed that in order to break him, you would have to crank it up from vanilla to kinky in one go.

You returned to the kitchen as Shouto was staring at his phone. “Midoriya and Iida want to go to a store later tonight,” Shouto informs you as you draped over his shoulder. Your chin perched onto the crook of his neck. “Do you want to come with me?”

“That sounds like a bro date.” You admit as the corners of your mouth brush against his sensitive skin. You delight at the goosebumps that flash against his skin, and the shiver that goes down his spine. “Isn’t it for his wedding suit?”

“It’s the final fitting,” Shouto nods as his hand grasps yours and he places a gentle kiss to it. “Do you want to come with us? I’ll be leaving in an hour, and it shouldn’t take long.”

You smirk, well it seems you only had an hour to get what you wanted. You two were Pro-Heroes, you always performed better on a time limit. “No, you should enjoy the time with your friends!” You finally say and Shouto sighs.

“They’re your friends, too!”

“Well, I’m not sitting on his side during the ceremony.” You tease as you nuzzle your nose into his neck. “But since you have an hour, wanna make out?”

You say this as easily as you can, hoping to catch him off guard. But it seems that Shouto was expecting that question as he shrugs, “I guess that would be okay.” He teases and you snort as you are quick to straddle his hips despite him still eating.

Your eyebrow quirks to match his own as Shouto drops his chopsticks to hold your waist. “I love you, Shouto.” You say as you run your fingers through his hair, your eyes kind as you stare at his handsome face. His eyes were light as they stare at you, love and joy reflecting as your thumb traces his scar burn. Something that never truly embarrassed him. Something that never failed to remind him of why he was a hero, and something that he loved wholly because of you.

His eyes flutter closed as you press warm kisses against the heated flesh. A content hum escaping his mouth as you do so.

You pepper kisses around his face, placing one on his forehead, temples, cheeks, noses, eyelids, chin, jaw, and finally, you press one onto his mouth. His mouth doesn’t hesitate to press against yours, his lips never losing contact with yours.

Your hands hold his face to yours as your head tilts to the right. His nose pressing softly against your cheek as his hands grip your hips. You smirk as you roll your hips, your weight shifting so that you’re now on top of his dick. Shouto reacts the way you hoped he would, his hands slipping underneath your shirt to lay on your skin. His calloused fingers tracing shapes onto your skin.

You break away from him, Shouto trying to follow your mouth. Your heart is hammering as you’re almost embarrassed to say what you need to say. Your lips pressing against his ear. “I love when you touch my skin like that, it makes me feel so good.”

You make those words feel as alluring as you can. Despite the embarrassment that fills you from those words. Shouto stills completely underneath you, and you’re unsure if you broke him in a good way or a bad way. You return your lips onto him, hoping that you could move on.

His hips twitch from under you, and you can feel his arousal.

Oh… he did like that.

It’s more minutes of making out, your hips continuing to roll on top of his. Shouto’s pants filling the air as you were merciless in your teasing. Shouto grumbles as he pulls away, his mouth on your neck. Sucking and biting his way down your neck. You moan at the feeling, your heart hammering as you cry his name. “Yes Shouto, keep biting me like that, oh god yes, I love it so much!” You praise and Shouto curses into your neck. “Keep going, Shouto, you’re doing so well.”

As if willed by Kami herself, Shouto yanks you closer to him. His hips bucking against your ass as his mouth refuses to give you mercy as he sucks and bites down your neck even more. Your mind is dizzy as his hands grip your breasts and you toss your head back as your arch into his groping hands. “Fuck… you’re perfect, shit Shouto! Don’t stop!”

A strangled moan escapes his mouth as your head returns to kiss him, his lips eager to meet yours again. You squeak as he sits up with no warning, his hands clutching your ass as he begins walking to your shared room. A heated pressure begins to form as you anticipate what’s to come. You know that if you don’t act quickly, he’s going to flip you on top of him and go stiff for the rest of the night.

Your fingers begin yanking his shirt over his head, your lips breaking for less than a second to do that. Shouto is able to remove your shirt with ease with only one hand. He sits down on the bed, your knees sinking into the soft mattress.

You pull away reluctantly, your chest heaving as you shake your head, “Wait!” You say as you watch as Shouto’s eyes open with curiosity. His eyebrows scrunched as if he was trying to figure out what he did wrong. “I want to try something new…” You gasp trying to collect your breath.

“What?” Shouto asks most likely unaware of what you said.

You get off Shouto and walk to your side of the bed, pulling out the box. You take out a black rope, “I want you… I want you to tie me up.” You demand, and you look into his eyes that widen slightly.

His nod is minuscule, you almost miss it, but with awkward movements, your at the head of the bed. You are slipping the rope between the spaces and you lay down on the bed as Shouto is above you. His face unsure, unknowing.

His hands knot the rope around your wrists, and your breath hitches each time as you stare at him. Your chest rapidly rising and falling as he looks at your form. “Keep being good for me,” The words roll off your tongue, hoping it’s praiseful enough to incite action for him.

“I… I don’t—“

“Yes you can, my love,” You say your eyelashes fluttering. “You got this. You always make me feel content and happy.”

Shouto stills from above you, his eyes locking on yours and he leans down and presses a kiss to your lips.

He breaks away, panting in the thought of what’s to come.

“What if I fuck up?” Shouto asks his hands sliding down your torso, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake.

“Shhh,” You disagree, now regretting the ropes as you can’t pull him in. Was he really just insecure this entire time? “You’re doing perfectly? Okay? You got this.”

Shouto stares at you, a fire in his eyes. It’s dim, wavering, and unsure, but it’s there. He presses his hands by your head, and you can’t help but shift in anticipation as he leans down. His lips gliding over yours soft and smooth.

Not one to shy away, you pressed your tongue against his lower lip and smiled as he opened his mouth. His tongue letting yours dance with him.

Shouto pulls away, his chest heaving as he shakes his head. “No.” He snaps and your furrow your eyes confused.

“No—?”

“You want me to be dominant… don’t you?” He asks sharply, his eyes scouring yours. “I know I’m not the best in bed, and this is your way of helping me.”

“Shouto…”

“Stop, y/n, it’s okay…” Shouto says his hands raking through his hair. “Please… let me be the one to take charge.”

All you can do is stare at him, ambition and fire in his face burning you as you feel your arousal spike. You nod your head, agreeing to his terms, and his mouth is on yours again.

Hesitant yet demanding.

You gasp as he splits open your legs and settles between them. His tongue immediately lashing into your mouth. You shudder against him as his tongue traces the roof of your mouth, his fingers gripping at your waist.

Your hands tug at the ropes, and you sadly moan at the denial of raking your fingers through his hair. You gasp as his lips trail down your neck. His tongue softly pressing against the hickies he had early engraved into your skin. “Keep going lower,” You pant, your eyes screwed as you pant.

Shouto still against the valley between your breasts, and he shakes his head. “You’re going to have to stop praising me…” He shudders as his left-hand grasps your bra in his fingers. “It’s making me want to lose my control.”

“I want to see you lose control,” You tease, your eyes staring at him through your eyelashes. “You want to do it, no? Do it.”

Shouto snarls against your skin, and your bra reduced to ashes as you gasp in shock. He doesn’t give you time to reprimand you as his mouth is surrounding your nipple. His tongue flicking your pert nipples in his mouth. “Fuck, baby, yes oh my god that feels so great!” You cry out, your chest arching off the bed. You jut your hips up off the bed in an attempt to get some form of friction with him.

His right-hand rolls your right nipple, his teeth biting down on your sensitive nipples. You shriek softly, this new feeling overwhelming. His free hands gently touch the underside of your breast and you gasp again, and Shouto pulls away. Your breast gleams with his saliva, and you moan as his fingers gently grind against your crotch.

“You’re doing so well,” You groan as Shouto’s fingers undo your shorts. Shouto heaves again as he pulls off your shorts, staring at your soaked panties, and he chuckles.

“You’re so wet…” Shouto says, a curious tone to his voice as he shifts backward, his finger ghosting where your slit is. You squirm slightly. Your hands fighting against the restraints once again as you shudder.

Shouto rolls his finger against his thumb, “All this just for me?”

“You make me feel so fucking good…” You whine, and your hips try to reach out to his hand, desperate for friction.

“Am… Am I doing alright?” Shouto asks, and you blink again, your mouth falling slightly. Your heart swelling even more so for the man between your legs.

“You’re doing perfectly, keep going.” You say biting down on your lip as he nods, full of insecurity again. “Shoucchan, I am so fucking wet right now, and you did that all on your own… I want you... so badly.”

His lips pressed into a fine line, as he nods again, this time confidence once again filling his form. Before you could react, your panties were thrown off, and his tongue is between your folds.

You scream his name, your knees clenching around his head as his tongue teases your entrance. His eyes search yours, and your legs shakily release your vice grip around his head. His eyes are looking at you for help, and you nod your head, unable to come up with words. “That’s good, baby… fuck, it’s good!! Why not try--aahh my god--try using your fingeRS!” You squeak, your hips rolling into his flickering tongue. Your body is unable to handle the feeling of him.

Your belly fills with liquid heat as tingles shoot down your legs. The coil in your stomach tightening with every passing lick.

Two fingers curl as they enter you, and you shake against him. The overstimulation was quickly getting to you and your legs thrash around.

His nose brushes against your clit, and you sob out his name. You want nothing more than to tug on his hair and to bring his soaked lips to yours as you ride him, but you’re unable to do that. Another finger enters you, and his free hand presses into your clit.

The pressure builds up higher and higher. Your hips are relentlessly rolling into his mouth and fingers.

“I’m going to… shit… Imma--!” His mouth leaves your pussy. You pant as you looked at him with pained eyes as he wipes his mouth which is coated with your juices.

“I can’t believe I didn’t let you do this earlier.” Shouto murmurs as he licks your juices off his fingers, grinning slightly as he does so. “Did that feel good?”

You don’t know whether to praise him or to berate him for having you on edge like that.

“I just…” Shouto sighs as he takes off his pants. “I want to see you around my cock…”

You whine softly at those words. Your arms once more tugging at the restraints as Shouto undresses completely. Your wet your lips again as the tip of his cock teases your entrance. “Are you ready?” You ask, your eyes locking onto his, Shouto looks worried but he nods his head.

“Yes.”

With a hand to guide his cock into your soaked folds, you yelp as he thrusts into you. Burying his length to its entirety into your heated cave.

“Oh my god, your dick feels so good!” You moan as your hips wiggle in an attempt to get him to move. “Baby, you’re so perfect to me.”

A growl leaves his lips, and the next thing you know Shouto’s hips are drilling into yours. His movements are sharp, rough, and fast. Your arms pulling yet again on the restraints. As you ever so desperately want to feel his toned body under your fingers.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight…” Shouto groans as you nod your head pathetically in agreement.

His grip is leaving bruises on your waist. You let out another lewd noise at the sound of his body intercepting yours. “Don’t stop, you’re doing so well. Shouto, oh my god, please go faster, you’re so amazing!” You shriek as his arm moves your leg to his shoulder.

His penetration deepens and you pull against the restraints. Your body moving towards the bed, and Shouto is quick to follow after you. His thrusting never waiver once, his grip leaving your locked leg to press flat onto your clit. You shudder against him.

Sharp pants escape his mouth as he places his hands onto the pillow by your head. Your leg hooked around his shoulder stretching as your hips meet his with every thrust. Your arousal intensifies as a burning pressure erupts within you. Your head falling backward as you lacked the energy to keep it up. “Look at me,” Shouto growls. The pleasure burns through your veins. It almost prohibits you from staring into his mismatched eyes.

Shouto drops to his forearm, and you scream, the tip of his dick brushing against your g-spot.

“Did you like that?” Shouto snarls against your throat. You nod your head as he angles himself into the same position and rocks even harder. Even further than before. Your body is trembling underneath his own. Languid moans seeping from your mouth in harmony with Shouto’s grunts.

“You’re so fucking amazing!” You sob as the heat within your core is overwhelming. Your breathing hitching with every slam of his hips.

“Come for me?” Shouto almost pleads against your neck, and you nod frantically.

The pressure breaks, and you come hard onto his dick, your mouth open as his lips messily press against yours. You cry his name as you pathetically squirm underneath him. Your pussy clenching around his dick with every thrust. The tingles spreading throughout your body as he chases your orgasm.

You feel Shouto curse against your throat. And with a stuttering thrust, expels his sticky and hot seed within you.

Shouto pulls away from you, sweat dripping down his face as he smiles. His hands wipe his forehead as he puts your leg back onto the mattress. He presses another soft kiss to your lips as he stands up and grabs his phone.

Looking at the screen he smirks before dressing himself.

Despite your high, your whine at the fact that he was dressing without untying your wrists first.

“Shoucchan--?”

“I have to go now, love,” Shouto admits as he presses another kiss to your bruised lips. “I’m not quite done with you yet, you’re just going to have to wait for me to come back? Okay?”

He doesn’t give you time to reject those thoughts as he slips out of the room. Ignoring the pleading calls for him to get back. The sounds of you thrashing against the mattress making him smile as he leaves.

Oh yeah, you had definitely awakened something within him.