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clown-moss · 2 years ago

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What is that feral green thing? N Harmonia X GN Reader

You've been walking in this bloody forest for what seems like days, days of sleeping in tree or damp grads, days with barely any food besides the berries you were even sure we're edible, DAYS of no civilization in sight! You just wanted to have a look around a route east of Nimbasa city and then you found a strange moss covered forest entry way, your stupidity and curiosity led you in and now you're trapped here. You've sworn you've seen some trees before, it feels like you've been walking an endless circle! Does it ever even end!? Days and days of trampling through grass and flowers with surpisingly no Pokemon in sight which slightly bothered you but you pushed through none the less.

Finally you've found a clearing with a quick flash of a Pokemon in sight, you felt as if you could kiss the ground. Finally! There had to be people here somewhere right? If there's Pokemon, there's people! The grass was tall, taller than the grass near that ghost tower. It seems as if no part of humanity has ever gotten to this part of the forest but depsite this you ignored that option and focused on the dying hope that somebody is at least here with you. The flowers ranged in different colours, blue, pink, yellow, all the colours you can think of! In all shades and shapes, it was quite beautiful. A quick thing of green flashes past your eyes and you quickly turn to the sight and call out for the creature.

"Hello!? Is somebody there? Please for the love of Arceus if you know the exit to this stupid forest can you PLEASE take me there!?" You begged slightly to the creature peering at you from the tall grass, the creature growled at you. "Leave." The creature growled out in a low threat, "English? You must be Human! Finally somebody else trapped in this dreadful forest!" You exclaimed in relief, this only angered the creature even more than before. "I'm not a human! I am a fox!" The creature roared out, incredibly pissed off but of course that went right past your head. "I kinda doubt that? As far as I'm aware Pokemon can't speak English" you started, failing to notice the creature rising from the ground and by then it was too late, the creature lunged at you with extreme force.

With a few swears both of you start wrestle, depsite how skinny this "thing" is it was hella strong. You could swear this thing tried to gouge your damn eyes out! After a long fight of grunts and yells you finally beat the damn thing, it may be strong but it's lacking some body weight which made it easier to powerful the thing. "What the (Pika!)." You breathed out slowly, trying to regain your breath once again all the while staring at this creature. "This thing is (Pika!) Feral" you said to yourself while poking at the creature. It seems human but it has markings are fur a kin to that of a Zoroark and Zorua. Poor man must have been trapped here for so long that he must've went insane and thought that he was a Pokemon himself!

You took pity and sighed at the poor thing and decided stupidly that you would take the man (?) with you, the man was incredibly light which wasn't surprising for it's body weight. With more walking and groans you finally see it, civilization! If it wasn't for the man you're carrying you would cry and run into the city, you snap yourself out of your inner celebration and make your grueling journey home. You got many odd stares as not only were you carrying an unconcious man but you also looked as if you were in the middle of battle or two of two very powerful and violent Pokemon but eventually you made it to your house and you put the man in one of your spare rooms and locked the door.

Who knows what type of damage the thing could do if you didn't lock it! You may be stupid but you're not THAT stupid, you went to take a long and deserving shower. Bathing and taking in the luxury of a nice hot shower that you thought you would never feel again, of course this was cut short by the screaming, smashing and destruction you can hear coming of the spare room. You took your time getting out of shower and getting dress in hopes that the thing would eventually calm down, it didn't. You decided to pass the time by going to the kitchen and cooking up some food for the thing, you aren't sure what it eats but you take a wild guess and run with it.

Eventually the smashing noises came to halt and it goes silent, you take this moment to unlock the door and hesitantly walk into the room, which was now very dark. The creature growled at you from the dark, it's eyes glaring you in the dark, they're glowing. You slowly put down the food and approach the creature, threats growled out of the mouth of the creature as you kneel down to its curled up self. Your hand slowly approaches the creatures face and hesitates slightly once the creature snapped at you with its teeth, your hand rests on his cheek, caressing it slightly. The creature seemed both confused and less annoyed than before, "what.. are you.." you mumble out to yourself, not expecting a reply. "N." The creature whispered slight before falling into a exhausted snooze from destroying the room, literally there's a hole in the damn wall.

Some time passes and you assume the man is awake once again because you heard shuffling, you knock on the fold before entering the still pitch black room. The creature had backed itself into a corner, with some coaxing you managed to get the creature closer and that's when you noticed it, the odour coming from it. "You really need a bath" you said to the creature which made its eyes widen and it started to run back to the corner but you grabbed his legs and you start to drag him to the bathroom, whines and pleads for not a bath came out of his mouth rapidly and not only that his nails were tearing my carpet apart! You started the tub while still trying to hold the creature down from running away, still isn't as strong as before. Soon the bath was filled with hot soothing water and you throw him in there, splashing you slightly.

The creature stopped resisting your attempts and opt to just sit in the bathroom and whine, pout and complain the whole time. His hair was so mangled and dry, it was as if it's never touched shampoo nor conditioner in its life! While washing his hair he made some slight whines at the feeling of you scratching his head but you paid little to no attention to this fact. The bathing was finished and you stood up, turned your face away and just handed out a towel to the green haired man. "Just wrap it around yourself until we get back into your room" you explained, eyes screwed shut in order to not ruin your innocent eyes. He understood fairly quickly and the both of you make it back to the ruins of the spare room, you hand him a sweater and some loose jeans and ask if he knows how to put in clothes to which he nods, thank Arceus.

While you let the man dress himself you pick up what remains of his clothes and throw the in the wash, you stare at the monochrome fox mask that he was wearing during your rustle. It's a really pretty mask, that's all. You put it aside and focus on washing the man's clothes, you were forced to stop half way through by the sound of something rummaging through your perfectly organised fridge. You ran into the kitchen only to see the green wolf man half way in the fridge, you grab him by his waist and pull him out of what remains of your pristine fridge. He had something I couldn't make out in his mouth before he swallowed it, I didn't even bother to ask him questions about it. By the looks of him, he could probably survive any poisoning there is in the world.

You distract the creature with games, Tv shows and stuff on your rotophone. The man seemed so mesmerised by the moving cartoons on the screen that you decided to put on one of those baby sensory videos, the one with the fruits? You couldn't sworn the man's subconscious drifted into a different reality, his mind was on another plane of existence staring at the scree. You had enough of this fun and eventually it was time for dinner and then bed. Dinner was quite the struggle as the creature was incredibly difficult and picky with what he ate so eventually you decided you had enough and made chilli soup, surprisingly he ate it and you actually him he loved it but he was too sour to admit it. The creature started to yawn and rub it's eyes which indicated that it's time for the creature to go to sleep.

It's similar to taking care any feline creature or any other Zorua or Zoroark except it's a deranged, feral man you found lost in the woods. You left the creature back to its room where you tucked it off to sleep and left the room to do the same with yourself, changing your clothes and brushing your teeth before slipping into your warm, heated blanket bed and dozing off completely. Of course you were woken up slightly by the sound of your door opening and somebody slipping on, it was the creature and it stalked closer towards you. The attack and mawling you were expecting to get never came but instead a very fluffy and soft creature slipped in right next to you, only to snuggle right into your chest. Aware to the fact that the person the man was snuggling up against was awake and confused. What were you meant to do? Push him off? Cuddle him back? You have no clue! You've never been in a situation like this!

You decided to bite the bullet once again and hug the creature closer to you, you've already taken so many stupid risks today what damage could this one one? A storm of Pokemon tearing apart my house in order to get this man? Yeah right. The man made a noise of affection towards you as he snuggled close as well and you swear you felt something finally snap inside of you. Holy (Pika!) Those cheesy movies about love at first sight weren't wrong! This truly feels amazing! You could already feel yourself getting quite close to the man depsite it being a feral monster from deep within the forests but that's what you love about him, he's feral and insane.

This is like very loosely based off that once art piece did, could've been way longer but I'm tired and I want sleep sooooo-

#n harmonia #natural harmonia gropius #n pokemon #pokemon n #n harmonia x reader #n x reader #pokemon #trainer n x reader #unova

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quickspinner · 3 years ago

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I Should Have Been With You

For the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers Sprint Challenge! The prompt was “Kissing in the rain” and I was further inspired by @ladyfreya123 ‘s beautiful art for this prompt.

The rules are 3 15-minute sprints and 24 hours to edit, but I only did two for this one, because it felt done where I left it. Enjoy!

She hadn’t expected to see him. He must have known he might see her, coming here like this, so it wasn’t a shock for him but Marinette wasn’t prepared and she just...froze. Luka smiled, gave her a slight nod, and then turned away from her. He pulled a black lace bag out of the protection of his jacket as Juleka came trotting up. He handed the bag to his sister, accepting her thanks with a smile and a quiet, “Have a good time.”

Marinette was still frozen, still standing there stupidly. Luka looked back at her, as if he couldn’t quite help himself, and she saw him swallow as he met her eyes. His gaze flicked over her, taking in her unbound hair and pretty dress, and he smiled again. “You look beautiful,” he said softly, and put his hands in the pockets of his jacket. Marinette’s lips parted, and she thought they formed a thank you, but she couldn’t get any sound out past the lump in her throat.

He should have been here with her. He should have cared enough to get out of the rain, because he should have been dressed up to come here and dance with her. He should have been her date, and not just his sister’s errand-runner. It was all just...so unfair.

Luka’s eyes slid away, and he turned, walking back out of the double doors that were propped open, the decorations attached to them drifting back and forth slowly.

Marinette stared after him, and the whole thing felt unreal.

The decorations were perfect, despite all the setbacks. The food was perfect, despite all of the insinuations and the sighs and the whispered aren’t you guys just a little tired of the same old thing . The music had been carefully curated and arranged, and it was perfect too.

Luka would have liked it.

The gym was draped in gauzy cloth swags that she had sewn in every spare moment. The tables were littered with tissue paper flowers that she had organized committees to make. Everything was perfect. Beautiful.

Marinette didn’t turn around to see it. She took a step forward, and then another, and then she ran, through the doors and down the steps, heedless of the pouring rain or the water sloshing over her thin shoes.

Luka was standing there at the bottom of the stairs, his back to the school. He wasn’t waiting, but he wasn’t walking. He was just standing, staring at nothing, heedless of the rain. Just...being.

Just being Luka.

“Luka,” Marinette yelled, finally finding her voice, and he turned, reaching automatically to catch her hands as she ran recklessly down the last few stairs, steadying her even as he blinked in confusion.

He opened his mouth to ask what was the matter, but Marinette didn’t give him the chance. “I’m sorry,” she blurted, and his hands tightened on hers even as his brow furrowed in confusion. “I’m sorry. I’m stupid, and confused, and there’s just...so much. It’s all so much Luka. But I—I love you, and I miss you, and I don’t know how I can do what I have to do without you, and I—

“Marinette,” he interrupted gently, “Calm down. You’re getting soaked, let’s—we can talk if you want, but we should—��

Marinette jerked her hands away, and before he could react, she grabbed his face in her hands, pulling him down the short distance it took for her to kiss him. He was so cold and his face was slick under her hands. She moved her grip to his hoodie to keep him close. He made a soft noise and his hands found her waist as he leaned in to the kiss—the kiss they should have had weeks ago, and had never managed. In spite of everything, even though she had lied to him and left him and broken his heart, he kissed her back now like none of it had ever happened. Neither of them wanted to let go, one kiss rolling into two and three until Luka finally pulled away.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, bringing his hands up to rub her arms, and Marinette realized he was right. She was freezing. Wet as it was, he wrestled his jacket off and wrapped it around her. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said, dismay on his face as he looked at her soaked dress and limp hair.

“You’re right,” Marinette whispered, clinging to him. “I should have been with you.”

He wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her arms against the cold again, but when she looked up at his face, his expression was mingled confusion and pain. He was holding her from instinct, to comfort and warm her, but clearly he didn’t know what to do.

“Take me home?” she asked, plucking at the white shirt that was beginning to stick to him as the rain soaked it too. “Please. Take me home and we’ll get dry and...and we can talk. Please?”

It wasn’t playing fair, to look up at him with that pout and beg, when she knew he’d never refuse her anything. She did it anyway, and saw his eyes flicker to her lips before he looked away over her head, back towards the gym doors where the light and the music was still spilling out.

“Okay,” he said, squeezing her to him as he turned them towards the crosswalk. “Okay.”

Fiction Master Post

#quickspins #quicksprints #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #pro lukamari

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gustafsnightangel · 4 years ago

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Shattered Lives Ch 36 Pt 2

She blew out a breath. “Ok how do I say this without sounding like a complete bitch?... I’m jealous. Stupidly jealous of something that I can’t change. Stupid because everyone in this room has welcomed me with open arms and so much love, yet I still feel so fucking alone. I’m jealous that this was what I missed out on, and let’s be real, it’s ridiculous, because I have nothing to be jealous about, because they’re my family now too.” She held her breath after blurting all that out, ashamed she’d felt that ugly feeling in the first place.

Her words stung, but not because they hurt him, no, he knew how lucky he was, the loving family he had. It stung because it reminded her of the childhood she’d been denied. They stung, because he hadn’t taken into consideration that she might feel like this, that he’d put her in a position where she felt out of place. “I love you.” He said tenderly. “My family loves you.” He held her a little tighter and kissed her temple. “And to be honest, I don’t know how to fix this.”

“You can’t.” Her voice barely a whisper. “It rears it’s head at the worst times and it’s so ridiculous.”

“I’d say normal considering.” He kissed her, those ruby red lips so soft. “You missed out on a lot love, I’d like to think that would be a normal reaction to having it shoved in your face like I’ve just done.”

“You haven’t shoved it in my face.” She looked at him, those soulful blue eyes staring into hers. “You’ve given me something I’ve never had. I just have to get the rest of my emotional baggage on board.” She sniped with a huff. His grin easing her heart.

“It’ll take time love.”

“I keep telling myself that, but then my head goes to what if I don’t? What if something happens and this is all taken away? I know it’s unlikely, but I always thought that with Quinn and look what happened there. Losing him, my parents, changed something in me and I don’t know how to deal with it, get past it.” Her voice shook with emotion and he hated that sound, the unimaginable grief.

“I don’t have the answers love, but I’ll help you find them.” He kissed her temple and felt her body relax as they swayed. “Together, you and me.”

“You’re too sweet for your own good, you know that right?” She felt him smile against her cheek.

“So a certain sexy lawyer keeps telling me.” He smiled.

“I love you Gustaf, so much. Don’t ever change.”

“You are my world lovely lady. You and four wonderful kids.”

As the clock marched toward 12:30 the adults started to say their goodbyes, some wanting to go and sleep, some to hang around and drink, but not Gustaf. Oh no, he wanted to get her alone behind closed doors, just the two of them. The twins were still up with Brendan, the boys looking sheepish when they got caught out by Gustaf as he continued to dance with Sildie. They’ll be fine, he thought, they were having fun with Valter and he wasn’t about to stop it. The kids knew the rules, no grumpies the next day, and what grandpa says goes, his house, his rules.

“Shall we go home?” He asked, his finger trailing down her jaw before he kissed her as they swayed, still dancing and enjoying the time together. “I want to do wicked things to you kitten.” He purred as he rested his lips at her temple. “Make you moan.”

“Take me home daddy.” She whispered, stepping closer and brushing her body against his, the hardening length of him pressing into her hip, his groan more a snarl, her chuckle sinful.

“Go check on the kids.” He growled, kissing her sweetly. Swatting her ass gently as she walked away, she looked back over her shoulder and the bite of that bottom lip was like a red rag to a bull, the sachet of her hips making his cock throb. Oh he was putting her over his knee tonight, he decided, as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and followed her to say goodnight to his father.

“You three be good for grandpa please.” She said kissing each one on the head while they battled a frustrated Valter.

“Grandpa’s the boss.” Liam stated, they knew the rules.

“Yes he is. Have fun though ok? I love you.” She smiled at the chorus of love you mum. How could she not love that? “We’re only downstairs at home B.” She squeezed the teens shoulder as he nodded, knowing the kid needed to know where she was before heading back to Gustaf. They would be fine and she needed to let them go a little, they were safe, they were happy. Saying their goodbyes and good nights to the remaining members of his family they walked out the door and waited for the elevator, her finger drawing devastating patterns on the patch of chest he had on display. She itched to touch him there all night, that damn white shirt and his massive chest beneath it, she was so weak for him.

“They’re safe love.” He said softly as if reading her mind.

“I know.” Her nod was quick and she didn’t look at him. Hooking a finger under her chin he waited until her gaze met his. “I’m trying.” As if she felt compelled to voice it.

“I know you are love. It’ll take time to get used to being away from them, but thank you for letting dad have them tonight. He was over the moon.” He kissed her tenderly, so strong, so brave. He kept his desire on a short leash as they rode to their floor, his thumb gently grazing the tender skin of her inner wrist as he held her hand, lips nuzzling her neck, the soft giggle making him rock hard. “I like you in black velvet, soft and sexy.”

He stepped off the elevator and his smile died at the red tag across her apartment door, there was another over his. Turning her back into the elevator he just held her in there, shielding her, not wanting her to see it.

“Gustaf?” She laughed, and that laugh faltered when she saw his face. “What is it.”

“She was here.” He ground out between clenched teeth as he punched the button to take them back upstairs. “No, stay here.” He said barring her exit and line of sight from the elevator as the doors closed.

“Who, Ana?” She was confused.

“Good you didn’t see it.” He sighed, somewhat of a relief. He never wanted her to see that.

“See what?” She snapped.

“She tagged our doors, red spray paint.” He spat as he stepped off the elevator on his fathers floor, virtually dragging Sildie behind him, he didn’t want her to see what was written, he didn’t want her to have to deal with that, not now, not ever.

“Stop a minute.” She said sharply. “Stop!” He came to an abrupt halt and spun to look at her as she wrenched her hand from his, her tone sharp. Pain and fury looked back. “Don’t shut me out love.” She said softly. Sweet man don’t let her break you again, she said silently.

“I’m not I just... I don’t want you to see it, to have to deal with it.” He said, his voice trembling, not from fear, no, this was pure lethal fury.

“Ok I get that, but I’m a big girl, and they’re just words.” She kissed him tenderly, his body tense and vibrating. She’d never seen his rage like this, the slow simmering fury that could explode at any given moment. She needed to be the one with a level head while he prowled the corridor like a caged animal. “Let’s go home, call the building security, look at our feed from the front door and figure out what to do.” She put a hand on his chest to stop him mid stride before kissing him again and waited for his eyes to focus on hers. “Believe me when I tell you this Gustaf, I will not let her drive us apart or from our home. I meant what I said, I’ll fight for you, for us.”

“Me either, I just didn’t want you to see it. Someone as beautiful as you shouldn’t have to see that, be called that.” He leaned his forehead against hers, willing his system to calm down, breathing her in slowly. “I’ll fight for us too.” How could he protect her, he wondered, how could he keep her safe?

“We’re stronger together love and if this is Ana, it will only hurt her when she faces court. Let’s get it logged, get the process moving, and then let it be.” She pressed the elevator button. “Breathe.” She said sternly and he obeyed as she tugged his hand to walk in with her. “And again.” She would be the calm in his storm, the partner with the level head, the logical thinker, even though she wanted to find this woman and bury the body once she was done. How dare you hurt my man again, she seethed silently, how fucking dare you.

“I love you.” He said softly. “And this wasn’t the start to the new year I wanted for us.”

“It’s a blip love. Nothing a coat of paint won’t fix.” She kissed him sweetly, trying to soothe his mind and the rage that stormed inside him. “I love you too. Don’t let her win. It’s just words, just some paint. I’m here with you, I’m safe. If she thinks a few words spray painted on my door is going to get me to leave you or cause chaos between us she has egregiously underestimated me and our relationship.”

“You’re right.” He breathed out, he’d over reacted, but it would hurt her to face what was written on their doors and he had no way of stopping it. “It just pisses me off. We’re trying to make a home, have our family together, the kids safe and happy. I just want to hunt her down and kick her ass, fucking rage at her.”

“This is what she wants love. She wants the turmoil, the anger, the attention. She wants you to be a mess.” She kept her tone gentle. “She wants you to lash out at her, at me, at the world. She thrives on chaos, don’t give it to her. Don’t give her the satisfaction of destroying the peace you’ve fought so hard for.”

“Well she’s fucking succeeding.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, wrestling his emotions.

“Don’t let her. I know that’s a difficult task, and I know you’re trying love. But don’t let her get in your head again, you’ve worked too damn hard.” She took a steady breath as the elevator slowed to a stop and the doors opened, Gustaf facing her with his back to the doors. She could feel him bristle as the doors open.

“I really don’t want you to see it.” He said tenderly, his kiss gentle and apologetic.

“I need to love, the only way we deal with her is together. I’m not leaving you vulnerable to her shit again. I love you, nothing written on doors is going to change that, ever, and that is all that matters to me. You and me, together.”

“I love you.” He kissed her hard before she could say anything else. “God, I fucking love you.” His voice choking with emotion.

He stepped out of the elevator and when her eyes fell on her apartment door she felt her heart lurch, it was like a slap in the face. In red spray paint was the word, cunt, blazoned across her door, the word whore was across Gustaf’s.

“She’s not very original.” She muttered as Gustaf pulled out his phone and rang building security as he stalked to their door.

“No she isn’t.” He spat as the phone rang out, before putting the key in the lock and walking over the threshold. As he rang again he dealt with the feed from the front door, it clearly showed Ana with another male coming down the hall from the other end of the building. He watched as they made out in front of Sildie’s door before tagging it, then repeating the same on his own door. Uploading the footage he finally had someone on the phone and he was about to unleash, white hot fury roiled inside him. How the fuck did she get in, he wondered and asked building security that exact question as soon as they got past the pleasantries.

She watched him carefully as she set the kettle to boil. The determined set of his shoulders, the cold rage rippling off him in waves, the ice calm tone in his voice as he spoke with building security and then the police. Although she wanted to help she understood his need to protect her from it, shield her and take care of it himself. He was proving to her he would protect her and the kids, their home, from anything and anyone who threatened the peace they’d found together. Showing her he wouldn’t back down from his demons when they threatened her, threatened everything they’d built together. “Sweet man don’t let her win.” She murmured as his voice held that lethal edge to it as he spoke to the police.

He dealt with it, police reports, evidence collection, photos, the lot, and he was determined to wait until there was a base coat of paint over the writing before calling it a night, the night almost over at 4 am. At least it was covered up in case the kids came down. That was a blessing, he thought, they didn’t need to see that. It was bad enough Sildie had. He closed the door and locked up before turning and finding Sildie standing in the kitchen watching him. He wasn’t sure if he could touch her now, the seething anger still raw within him. She was right though, he couldn’t let Ana get into his head, he couldn’t let her ruin tonight, or any night just because she wanted to have a bitch fit, and, it could have been worse, a lot worse. Sildie and the kids were safe, and Ana hadn’t been able to get into the apartment, that had to be enough. It was just paint and he had to put that into perspective.

He walked to her letting the anger fall from his shoulders, his mind letting go of something he couldn’t change and had no more control over. “Breathe and let it go.” He mumbled as he let a breath out. It was done, he’d done everything he could to get the police on the right track and to keep his woman safe, his family safe. Without a word she stepped toward him and kissed him tenderly, filling him with love and understanding. Forehead resting against hers he closed his eyes and breathed her in, the calm and serenity that she gave to him.

“I’m sorry.” He said gently.

“No, you don’t get to apologize for her either love.” Her tone gentle but firm.

“I’m not, I’m apologizing for the way I handled it earlier.” He stroked his knuckles down her cheek before his fingers toyed with her hair.

“No need, I understood why and that was sweet, but you never have to face that or deal with that sort of thing alone anymore ok?”

He nodded and kissed her brow. “I never wanted that part of my life to touch you. Her to touch you. I failed you in that respect.” He had, or at least he felt like he had.

“My sweet man.” She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him. “You haven’t failed me at all. You and me, together, with the kids as a family. You’ve given me a family, you keep me safe, the kids love you, I love you. That’s not failing anyone.” She kissed him again sweetly. “Don’t let her win.”

“I’m not, I’m trying... I’m just trying to put it away where it belongs.” And he was struggling with it.

“You’ve done that love, it belongs with the police, I’ll call for a restraining order tomorrow once they’ve gone to confront her, let it be now. It is what it is, we’ll deal with it, let it go. Just a blip.”

“It sort of killed the mood of the night.” He scoffed and kissed her gently as his fingers brushed her hips.

“We could always pick up where we left off.” She started to sway to a silent tune, urging him to go with the flow, to leave it all behind and come with her. Her sigh of relief when his hand found the small of her back was enough for him to relax, his other hand taking hers to slow dance her in their kitchen to no music at all.

“We were about here right?” He asked cheekily, that low tone making her belly quiver as he kissed her temple. “Whispering how I was going to do wicked things to you.” His hand skated up her spine, the featherlight touch on her skin causing her to shiver.

“Then I think I said something like, take me home daddy.” She purred, her kiss erotic and wicked.

He danced her to the bedroom, the slow silent tune bringing them closer and he stood there and swayed with her in his arms. They were both beat to hell after their unsavory welcome home. His plans for spanking her would have to wait, he wasn’t in the right frame of mind for it now and neither was she. This was a time for care, for tenderness, he would show her that, give her that and more.

“Let me.” She said softly, let me lead she was asking as her mouth claimed his, sweetly. His hands dropped to rest on her hips, their seductive sway pulling him further under her spell as he let her have control. “For you it’s the black lace and red lipstick, for me it’s this damn white shirt.” She breathed as her hands raked down his chest slowly, feeling every contour, the strength, the love that radiated from him. “It’s this patch of your chest that peeks out.” Her fingers dipped between cotton and skin to trace the line from throat to third button. “It’s just begging for attention, teases me, seduces me.” She purred as her lips kissed the base of his throat and traveled over every inch of that deep V his shirt revealed. Feeling his hands grip her hips tightly she smiled against his chest, her fingers blazing a path down his torso over his hips to palm him.

He leaned against her hand when it made contact with his cock and groaned, the feel of her, the scent of her, that wicked mouth. “I want to see you.” He breathed, his hands tightening on the plush velvet of her dress and slowly pulling the skirt to bunch at the waist. “Feel you.” Her breathy moan as he spread his hands over the swell of her hips made his cock twitch. She kissed her way up his neck, savoring that one spot that wrecked him and only moved on when sucking on it elicited a hiss of arousal.

“You have a very clever mouth love.” His voice that low timbre she loved.

“Let me show you how clever.” Her purr made his cock throb before she devoured his mouth, that devastating kiss that left him breathless.

“I love you.” Traveling his hands further up her ribs he took the dress with it until she broke the kiss long enough for her to raise her arms and have him remove it. He looked down at his goddess, bound in black lace, beautiful as ever.

“My goddess.” He breathed. “So beautiful.” Kissing her deeply he pulled her into his arms, the need to feel her overtaking his mind.

“Wait.” She murmured and he let out a stifled groan, his cock pulsing with need. Moving his hands back to rest on her hips she continued with her delicious torment, her lips finding his throat as her fingers slowly undid the buttons of his dress shirt. She peeled it from his body at her own leisure revealing each inch of skin with a kiss. As she stood up straight she plundered his mouth, hot and hungry, his fingers digging into the flesh of her ass to hold onto his control.

With a wicked smirk she stepped out of his embrace and walked to stand behind him, her fingers wandering his chest. As she pulled the shirt from his shoulders, her mouth kissed a trail down his spine as the fabric fell away. She stood there, hands roaming his broad shoulders, lips nibbling the nape of his neck. Letting her hands drift down his ribs and around him she found the fly of his jeans, the substantial bulge eager to be released.

He rested his head back as she undid the zipper, her hands sliding between denim and skin to feel him, to shuck the fabric from his body. Kissing her way down his spine her hands lingered as they travelled over his thighs. Once free of his jeans he helped her stand and pulled her into his arms, the kiss tender but hungry.

“You’re wearing entirely too much.” His low tone making a shiver skip over her skin as he released her bra. He stripped the delicate black lace from her body, helped her out of the four inch heels, and took his time on the journey back to his feet, her curves deserving every second of his attention. “My Sildie.” He murmured, mouth devastating hers slowly.

“My sweet man.” Her fingers trailed his scruff as he rested his forehead against hers.

“I’m so in love with you.” He said softly. “You are my everything.” His kiss filled her with that unbound love he kept protected from the world, that love just for her.

Walking her backward to the bed he crawled over her as she shifted herself further back onto the mattress. His goddess, her halo of copper burning brightly against the soft blues of the covers, he wanted to lose himself in her. Pressing her into the bed he lowered his mouth to hers brushing those sinfully red lips with his before claiming them. There was that familiar heat between them, the spark that set them both aflame. No words were needed to confess their love, it was in their touch, their kiss, their gaze.

“I need you.” She sighed as he nibbled on that one spot below her ear, just the feel of his body between her legs making her pussy thrum.

“Look at me love.” He murmured, resting his cock at her entrance. There was nothing more beautiful, more erotic, than seeing her eyes as he entered her, he thought.

“Gustaf.” She gasped against his lips as he thrust in slowly until he was buried to his hilt, her hands clutching any part of him she could. When he was fully seated inside her he groaned as she took the kiss deeper, content with just the feel of her around him, clenching him. So tight, so deliciously tight and wet, he thought. She wrapped those stunning legs around his hips as he drew all the way out and plunged in, the slow thrusts bringing them both erotic pleasure. He made love to her, watched as each stroke of his hips brought her undone.

That body she craved moved against her, inside her, eyes of ocean blue speaking to her soul, his entire being swallowing her whole. She lost herself in him, the pleasure he freely gave to her as she crested. “Gustaf.”

“I know love, let it take you.” Her hands pulled him closer as her body tensed, legs wrapped around him. He watched her eyes glaze over as she came before they fluttered shut, her soft cry the most beautiful sound he’d ever hear. “Hold on.” He murmured as he wrapped his arms around her and hauled her into his lap as he sat up on his knees, the change of angle driving him deeper inside her. “Fuck me you’re tight like this.” He groaned into her neck, nipping it gently before sucking the pulse thrumming there. With his hands at her lower back he moved, the slow pull out and hard thrust in making them both groan. Tossing her arms around his neck she moved with him, their heated breath mixing as they took their pleasure from each other.

She peaked quickly, the sensations whipping her body into a frenzy. “Please.” Her kiss desperate as he deftly destroyed her.

“Go over.” He sucked on the pulse at her neck, tongue flicking, tasting. “Let me feel you.” He groaned, her pussy tightening at his words before she shattered, that delectable body writhing on his cock. Slipping a finger through her juices he stroked her back door, the gentle probe, the sensual touch. “Come for me again love.” He purred as that finger thrust in just enough to stretch her. “Let it all go.” He felt her tense, her whimper at her impending release so close. Snapping his hips forcefully he tipped her over, a cry of his name tumbling from her lips again as her body bucked against his, his own release crashing through him violently. He crushed her to him as his hips pistoned until he was spent, her pussy squeezing him deliciously.

Her head collapsed on his shoulder and the soft giggle made him grin as they forced air into their lungs.

“God you know how to get me.” She chuckled.

“Same goes love.” His kiss was tender, the passion sizzling under it. Laying her on the covers he relaxed on top of her, his weight a comfort to her, the feel of those curves against him equally as grounding. “I had so much more planned for us tonight.” He kissed her sweetly. “I’m sorry.”

She stroked a finger down his jaw. “Nothing to be sorry for love, shit happens and you rocked my world pretty damn good.” Her kiss was tender. “Tomorrow maybe? We don’t have the kids until much later.”

“That’s true.” He kissed between her breasts before climbing up and heading to the bathroom.

She was beat, sated but beat, and the paperwork she’d have to file tomorrow because of Ana was going to eat up most of her day, she needed sleep. It couldn’t be helped, she’d protect her kids and her man. Ana wasn’t going to know what hit her when she was done. She waited for him to crawl back to bed before taking care of her bladder, sleep nearly upon him by the time she snuggled into him. He was exhausted, angry and exhausted, she could still feel it simmering underneath. “Sleep love.” She said softly as he pulled her to him like a child with his favorite teddy bear.

“I love you.” He mumbled as she felt him sink into sleep.

“I love you too my sweet man.” She kissed his chest. “So much.” Laying there curled into him she chewed over everything that had happened since seeing their front doors defaced, the case she was already forming in her head, the lawyer surfacing to organize her thoughts. It was only when she had a solid plan forward that she followed him into sleep.

@hausofobsession @ill-skillsgard @grandpa-sweaters @authentic90skidd @tuckersgirl @fairlyfallacy @flowers-in-your-hayr @raewritesfiction @stinkerbelle007 @kamie-b @mrsaugustwalker @skrsgardspam @loliwrites @trippedmetaldetector @lihikainanea @fay-walden @nandadb

#gustaf skarsgard #shattered lives #gustaf skarsgard fanfic

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artbymavy · 4 years ago

Note

could I get uuhhh 35 and/or 51 maybe w theo+luca?? as fluffy as possible please

35. “You make me feel safe.”

51. “You make me feel alive.”

“You know something? I don’t think I’ve ever slept in a room this big before.”

Luca was lying peacefully beneath silken sheets, his arm about Theo’s shoulder, thumb tracing absently across the hard ridges of the scar on his arm. It was he who had spoken.

It was warm in their room, though not unpleasantly so. Soft morning light was streaming in through its large open windows, and with it a cool, salty breeze off the sea beyond. Luca did not open his eyes to either of them.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in a room this big before.” He replied.

“What? You must’ve been.”

Theo sat up then, looming over Luca, who cracked an eye open to watch sleep lose its grip on him. It was thus that he was allowed to bear witness to the way the golden light of morning was lucky enough to be cast across the planes of his back, lighting the freckles on his shoulders, and Luca came to know that if stars could be seen in the daylight, they would look something like this, only probably not as lovely.

“Doesn’t feel like it. This one feels bigger,” He mumbled rather stupidly. Beauty tended to have that effect on people. Or so he had noticed.

“It is rather empty in here,” Theo conceded. “Except for us.”

Luca hummed in response, lifting a hand to trace his knuckles indulgently over the dip at the base of his spine.

“Hey, do you think I can make it echo in here?”

Theo took a deep breath, but before he could follow through with his experiment, Luca had wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him down into a kiss that stole the breath he had just taken, and pressed him down into the bed, where he seemed more than happy to stay.

“Mm no, too early for yelling please. Besides, you definitely can, or didn’t you notice last night?”

That earned Luca quite a remarkable blush, and not for the first time he found himself wondering if flowers grew in such a colour – if they did, he would fill a whole garden with them. He doubted that they could capture quite the right shade, though.

“I can’t say I did. Though admittedly, I was a little preoccupied.”

“Oh, you were, were you?” Luca crooned, awake enough now to find a mark just bellow his collarbone that certainly had nothing to do with the battle they had fought mere days ago, and kiss it as if in apology, though in truth he intended no such thing, eliciting a soft gasp. “Good.”

Theo planted a hand to the side of his face, taking a fist full of his hair to pry his head back, and met his eyes with a glare. Its effect was somewhat lessened by the smile he hadn’t managed to smother in time, though. “Hey, it’s not like I was the only one! I don’t even think you slipped a knife under your pillow before you went to sleep.”

He made a great show of wrestling the numerous pillows they had been provided with from beneath them, tossing them aside to lounge in the scandalously empty space they left behind.

Luca was not phased in the slightest.

“Well, if you want one under there so badly you can put it there yourself, since against my better judgement you have one now.”

“Oh no, I don’t feel that need. Not now anyways.”

Luca nodded thoughtfully. “I do suppose it would be rather hard to sneak up on us in here. Not really much to hide behind.”

Theo laughed. “What? No! That’s not why!”

Luca raised a brow, his lips pulling into a crooked smile. “Oh? Do tell then.”

“It’s you. Because I’m with you.” Theo admitted quietly, for the first time that morning breaking his gaze from Luca’s. “You make me feel safe.”

Luca chuckled. “I make you feel safe?”

“Yes! What, don’t I make you feel safe?”

With that, Luca gifted him with a rare, full laugh. “No! I was definitely safer before I met you.”

“Oh really?” Theo countered, prodding one of several large and rather brutish old scars on Luca’s thigh. Luca caught his hand, bringing his knuckles to his lips with a chuckle.

“Alright, I see your point, but let me raise you this: no one ever tried to blow up a building while I was still in it before I met you.”

Theo scoffed. “Okay, first of all, I was never actually going to blow up that building, you know that -”

“Do I? You and I must have very different memories of that situation” - Theo began to stammer his objection, but Luca continued on before he could - “and besides, you were definitely safer before you met me, too – I bet no one ever tried to shoot at you or stab you or light you on fire or anything before you met me. So no, Horatio, you do not make me feel safe.”

He chuckled, and pressed a firm kiss to the side of Theo’s jaw to soften his teasing, but when he pulled back to meet his gaze once more, he could tell he was in danger of turning Theo’s mood to storm clouds. He hadn’t meant to sound harsh – but realizing Theo had confided in him so easily as to make it seem no matter at all gave him pause. He did not want to ruin this. And he did not want Theo to think his feelings were not so strong as his, that they did not merit confessing. But he knew if he was to do it, and save the situation, he had little time to compose his thoughts.

“You – you make me feel…”

He trailed off for a moment, pressing the pad of his thumb against Theo’s temple, staring full into those deep, thoughtful eyes of his, willing him to understand, for he knew not the words to express what Theo had done for him – how he made him feel. Still, he knew Theo needed these things said out loud when he could, and he wanted to try.

“You make me feel alive. You make me want to feel alive. When I’m with you it’s like… like whatever you’re feeling is so big, it spills over into me. Like, through you, I feel all these things I never could have before – that I wouldn’t have let myself, or that I wouldn’t even have thought to. I never knew what it was, to smile until your face hurts, or to laugh until you cry, or just to cry, until you showed me. By the stars, Horatio, I don’t think I even know how good it felt to breathe until I shared the same air as you. I lived in the world, but I never really saw it, until I used your eyes. And maybe it’s presumptuous of me, but I don’t ever want to stop. I want to live against your chest, between your palms, in your hair. I want to filter my world through you, and fuck I hope you let me, because yours is the only world worth living in.”

Theo had risen to meet him, their legs tangling together as he rushed to throw his arms around his shoulders. Luca found one hand fell naturally into the dip of his waist, his other coming up to work its way into his soft, sleep-mussed hair.

Now that he had begun to tell him, really tell him, the words came easily. He had no need to stop and consider if they were the right ones. He knew he was understood.

“Before I met you, I was so ready to die for my cause that I think I would have taken death sitting down. But now… I still might not know what will become of us, but I do know one thing - that I would fight tooth and nail, use every last breath I had to give just for one more moment with you. Because you are what I want. But I want so much more than that. I want us to live – really live every moment we have, together. I want us to be by each other’s sides, until the sun sets on these whole continents for its very last time. Because I can’t picture it any other way.”

Theo’s answering laugh was watery. He pressed a palm over Luca’s heart, which only now did he realize was racing, staring at the space between his fingertips for a long moment before looking up at him once more.

“Let’s do that.”

Luca couldn’t help himself but laugh.

“I’m serious, Luca. If you want it, then my eyes are yours to see. My hands, yours to use. My heart, yours to hold. I’ll fill my lungs only with you, and my lips will speak only your name. If I’ve shown you what it feels like to be alive then I am truly sorry for I have not gone nearly far enough. I want to teach you what it feels like to be loved – really loved, none of this stupid self-preservation bullshit I’ve peddled to you so far, because whether you like it or not, I’m yours.”

He traced his fingers over the line of Luca’s collarbone, to reach over his shoulder once more, and follow the lines of the brand that marked his old, ill-taken oath with reverence.

“I’m yours.” He repeated earnestly, pressing a hard kiss into the knot of Luca’s shoulder.

“I’m yours.” Another kiss at the hollow of his throat, softer this time.

“I’m yours.” His breath was barely felt before it was lost to the deep kiss Luca offered him in return, losing his way to it, and finding it once again in the space of a moment, a heartbeat, an entire lifetime.

“I love you,” he whispered, warm against Luca’s lips. “Let’s start today.”

#asks #writing #my writing #beneath the continents #I... am so sorry but I don't think this counts as fluff anymore #I think I got kind of carried away here.....#like... really I did and I HOPE you like it but if not idk what to say #I think writing this fucked me up a little #did that happen to you too? let me know...#tobeasyouarebeing

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blossom-hwa · 4 years ago

Text

Arc [Coming Home] - MARK |Swing!|

Again, this part contains many events in Spiderman: Homecoming, so spoiler alert! The timeline has also been changed so Civil War happens after Homecoming. Thanks again to @deathbykpopboys for inspiring this series :)

Pairing: Mark x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, Spiderman!au

Triggers: a lot of cursing, violence (esp. in this chapter), PANIC ATTACKS IN FUTURE CHAPTERS (I in no way meant to romanticize these triggers. If you feel I did, please let me know and I will fix it.)

Word Count: 7.8k

A school dance takes a backseat to bringing down an illegal weapons trade.

Attach >> Arc { 1 - Drifting Apart | 2 - Coming Home } >> Fall { 1 - Spiral | 2 - Rise }

NCT Masterlist | Swing!

If things were chilly before, they’re freezing now. You and Mark won’t even talk to each other.

Surprisingly, not a lot of people ask about what’s going on between you two. Maybe it’s because they can already sense that you don’t want to talk about it. Maybe it’s because you already told enough people off last year after they decided to pry into your nonexistent love life.

Anyway, even if they did ask, what would you say? Oh, Mark didn’t want to find the root cause behind the group dealing illegal fucking weapons made from alien material, and I did.

You’d get placed in a mental institution.

Patrols aren’t peaceful anymore. You go earlier now since the university labs need to be fixed up, which just means more hours of strained silence as you help people with directions and beat up muggers. The two of you still patrol on the same schedule, but you watch completely different sides of Queens.

You rarely, if ever, call on him for help anymore. It’s not like there’s that much going on anyway.

One week passes like this, then two. You skulk around the university every day after school, trying to find out literally anything about the weapons dealers, but the explosion blew everything up. You come to realize just how lucky you and Mark were to have made it out alive.

Still doesn’t mean you think he’s right.

You head home from the university one evening, ready to go out and patrol for a bit. Normally, you keep your suit at school now – it’s easier to just pick it up to change right after visiting university. Today, though, you wanted a snack, so you came home first.

To your surprise, just as you’ve pulled out your suit, you hear Johnny walk through the apartment door.

“Hey, Johnny.” You walk out of your room and give him a tired smile. “Did you get out early?”

“No, right on time.” Your brother gives you a quick hug. “There wasn’t any extra work to get done today, so we all left on the clock. I was just going to go out and get some food for us – give me half an hour?”

No patrolling tonight, then. That’s fine. “Sure.” You smile.

“Are you all right?” Johnny frowns slightly, leaning in slightly. “You look a little sick.”

You force a laugh. “Not sick. Just tired.”

Johnny still looks unconvinced. “You’ve been like this for a while,” he says carefully. “I know school’s stressful, but you didn’t used to be this tired.” He looks closer, eyes narrowing. “Have you been getting into fights? You look a little beat up.”

“Johnny, what?” You heave a sigh of (faked) disbelief. “I can’t even beat anyone in an arm-wrestling match. How do you expect me to get into fights? I yell a lot, but I’m not stupid. I just get bruises from moving around when I sleep.”

Your brother acquiesces. “Well, if anything’s going on, tell me, all right?” He smiles.

“Seriously, dude.” You smile back. “It’s just a little drama at school, that’s all. If you get me my favorite Chinese, I’m pretty sure I’ll be fine again.”

“If you say so.” Johnny starts turning around, then pauses. “How come Mark hasn’t been around in some time?”

Right. That.

“He’s, um, working on a project for Tuan,” you say quickly. “It’s taking up a lot of his time. Tuan wants a paper and presentation done before next month is over.”

“Shit.” Johnny whistles. “You kids just keep getting smarter and smarter.”

“As if you aren’t smart enough,” you scoff.

“You flatter me.” Your brother laughs, ruffling your hair. “Be back soon.” With a quick kiss on your head, he leaves the apartment and you throw yourself onto the couch.

And not two minutes later, there’s a knock on the door.

“Johnny? Did you forget some –”

It’s not Johnny.

It’s Haechan.

“Oh, hi, Haechan.” You smile. “Why’re you here?”

“Hi Y/N! I just wanted to ask you some stuff.” He smiles blindingly. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, sure. Leave your shoes here.” You close the door behind your friend. “My brother’s out for a bit, but he’ll be back soon. You can come into my room.”

Haechan follows behind as you walk across the small apartment to your bedroom. You open the door.

And you realize your mistake.

“Fuck, wait –” you panic, trying to close the door again. “Um –”

Too late. Haechan’s already seen the black hoodie and pale mask sitting on your bed.

Utter silence reigns in the apartment.

“You’re Spiderwoman?” Haechan finally shrieks, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you. “What the fuck, Y/N?”

You wince, lurching out of his grip. “Don’t call me that,” you groan, sinking to the floor. “Not Spiderwoman. I don’t like that.”

Haechan doesn’t even hear you. “How the fuck did that even happen?”

“God, okay, please just shut up and calm down before the entire neighborhood hears you.” You shove Haechan into your room and close the door. “Do not interrupt me while I explain.”

So you tell him everything – OsCorp, the spider bite, deciding to fight crime. You pause a little after talking about the alien weaponry, unsure whether to go into the details of your fight with Mark.

Haechan looks blindsided. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “So on top of school and lab work and AcaDec, you’re patrolling Queens until, like, two a.m.?”

You shrug. “Yeah.”

“Man, what the fuck.” He flops down on your bed. “That’s just…”

Silence comes over the room once more.

“Okay, I’m just going to file away all this information for processing later, I’m too sleep-deprived for this. Keep your phone on, I’m going to send you so many texts later. Anyway, I’m just here because I wanted to ask you what your and Mark’s deal is.” Haechan sits up again. “Because Mark’s being a little bitch and won’t say anything. You know he asked Lia to homecoming?”

Something stings in your stomach at the mention of Lia. “Yeah, I know.” You heard the news last week. “Well, I guess it’s easier to tell, now that you know.”

By the time you’ve finished talking about all of your fucked-up adventures with alien weapons and the vulture man, you think Haechan is going to have an aneurysm.

“So you’re pissed at Mark because he doesn’t want to fight alien guns, and he’s pissed at you because he thinks you have a death wish,” he eventually summarizes.

You nod.

“That’s a mess.”

You snort. “You think?”

More silence.

“So, are you going to homecoming?” Haechan asks, randomly changing the subject.

“The fuck kinda topic change –” You sigh. “I don’t know.”

You have a dress, bought on sale at a department store with Jihyo, Yeri, and Lia. The whole time, you wanted to just curl in on yourself and disappear because you’d already known Lia was going to the dance with Mark, but you somehow survived. It’s relatively cheap, but according to the other girls – even Lia, who seemed very uncomfortable every time she looked at you – it looks great.

So you have a dress. You also have shoes, a pair of low heels that Jihyo lent you. Yeri has also promised to do your hair. You could definitely go to homecoming.

Whether or not you want to is another question.

“Hey, just go.” Haechan flops onto your bed again, jostling your blankets. “You don’t have to talk to Mark. Just go with Jihyo and Yeri. It’s junior year, might as well celebrate before the year goes to shit.”

“Are you going?” you ask.

“Duh.”

You picture the dress hanging in your closet. You imagine putting on Jihyo’s heels, Yeri’s smooth hands tying back your hair. You imagine laughing in a way you haven’t in weeks as you watch people whirl around stupidly on the dance floor.

With a sigh, you nod. “I’ll go.”

. . . . .

Mark hasn’t felt this nervous in what feels like forever. It’s not the terrifying kind of nervous, the kind that he feels when he’s breaking and entering secure university labs. This is a good kind of nervous – heart pounding not in terror, but with anticipation.

Aunt Mei drives him to Lia’s house after cooing over how handsome he looks in the suit they rented. It isn’t anything special, really, but Mark thinks he looks good. With a last reminder to “have fun!”, Mei drives to her night shift at the hospital, leaving him to ring the doorbell.

Lia’s mom opens the door. She’s a beautiful woman with a wide smile, and she immediately makes Mark feel welcome. “Come in, come in,” she says, waving him into the house. “You can wait for Lia in the kitchen, she’ll be down in just a minute.”

So there he stands, fiddling around with the corsage box in his hands. The house is a lot bigger than he thought – at the party, with the rooms so full of people, it seemed much smaller. He likes this change.

“Oh, hello. You must be Marcus!”

Mark turns around so fast it feels like he got whiplash.

Standing in front of him is who he thinks is Lia’s dad.

Which is bad, because Mark knows him as the vulture dude.

Belatedly, he realizes the vulture man – Lia’s dad? Jesus Christ, now he’s shaking – is holding out a hand. Gingerly, Mark reaches around and shakes it with fingers clammy with sweat, hoping his smile doesn’t look too fake. “M-Mark, actually,” he stutters.

“Well, it’s very good to meet you, Mark. Lia’s talked about you a lot. I’m Adrian Toomes.” That’s all he gets out before Lia comes down the stairs.

Mark is sure she looks beautiful. Her dress sparkles and she’s smiling widely as she takes the corsage and he takes her hand like he’s supposed to. But on the inside, he’s freaking out.

What do I do what do I do what do I do what do I do what the fuck do I do –

“I’ll drive you two there.” Mr. Toomes’s voice breaks through Mark’s swirling thoughts, turning them into a pool of existential dread. “I’ve got a flight in two hours, but I think I can spare the time to send my daughter off.”

“W-where’s your flight, sir?” Mark asks, hoping he sounds politely interested and not deathly afraid.

“New Jersey.” Mr. Toomes smiles at him. “I’m a parts collector, see, so I’m going off to inspect a new shipment.”

Alarm bells start ringing in Mark’s head. “I see,” he says faintly.

He’s pretty sure he’s sweating as he enters the car. Lia goes on her phone, still holding his hand, and smiles at him. He tries to smile back.

“So, Mark, Lia tells me you’re pretty smart.” Mr. Toomes smiles into the rearview mirror. “Considering you go to Midtown, that must be a pretty big compliment, huh?”

“He’s seriously smart, Dad.” Lia smiles back. “He’s probably going to be valedictorian.”

Mark laughs nervously. “Well, there’s still some competition…”

“Oh, hush.” She squeezes his hand. “He’s the best at physics on the AcaDec team, and he works in Professor Tuan’s lab after school! You know, the lab at… was it NYU?”

Mark’s eyes go wide. He knows he spoke during the confrontation at the university, but until now, vulture man hasn’t connected the dots yet. Maybe he just didn’t recognize Mark’s voice.

“This is the vulture dude?”

He winces.

Please don’t make the connection, please don’t make the connection, please…

His stomach plummets as Mr. Toomes’s eyes narrow. “Really? NYU? What do you do?”

“Oh, um, I help Professor Tuan build things, test material strength, write some simulation programs…” he trails off. “Not much.”

“Oh, shut up!” Lia starts talking again, but Mark can’t even think properly. Terror blurs his vision and fills his mind.

What should he do?

He told you he was going to give all of this up. He told you he didn’t want to die because of this mess. But there’s a clear lead right in front of him, the guy definitely recognizes him, and if he doesn’t do something tonight, this new shipment of whatever it is will probably escalate things to a whole new level.

Dimly, he registers the fact that Mr. Toomes has pulled up in front of the school. “Lia, darling, you go on first. I want to have a little talk with Mark here before I let him go.”

Mark feels sick.

Lia just rolls her eyes, oblivious to the turmoil occurring in his mind. “Don’t roast my date, Dad,” she warns playfully.

“I won’t.” He laughs, letting her kiss his cheek. “Now run along.”

Lia’s dad’s eyes turn blank immediately after the car door slams closed. Slowly, he turns around to face Mark.

The coldness radiating off his expression freezes Mark in place.

“Does she know?”

Mark almost squeaks. “Know… what?”

“So she doesn’t.” Mr. Toomes nods. “That’s good. Good boy.”

That shakes him to the core.

“I thought I knew your voice.” The man smirks slightly. “It’s all right. I’ve got a few secrets of my own. And I’ll tell you one thing – everything I’ve ever done was for my family. Every. Single. Thing.”

Outwardly, Mark doesn’t change his expression. Internally, he finds his resolve hardening.

How is selling illegal weapons something to do for your family? How is making crime even more prevalent something to do for your family? How is threatening to kill two sixteen-year-old kids something to do for your family?

If Toomes wasn’t the leader of this operation, Mark might back down. But his fancy house? His clear wealth?

That doesn’t give him much in Mark’s book.

“Lia likes you a lot. Likes Spiderman and Spiderwoman too, or whatever you and your little friend call yourselves.” He smirks again. “She’s my daughter. I love her. So for that, I’ll cut you a deal.”

Mark stays silent.

“You walk through those doors. You forget all of this ever happened. You and your buddy Spiderwoman never interfere with my business ever again.” His eyes narrow. “Or I will find every single person you hold dear and kill them in front of you.”

Silence.

“That’s how far I’ll go to protect my family.” Mr. Toomes smiles again, but it’s not a pleasant one.

More silence.

“Hey. I just saved your life.” His voice takes on a sharper edge. “What do you say?”

Mark swallows. “Thank you,” he mutters.

“You’re welcome.” The smile comes back, wolfish this time. “Now you go in there and show my daughter a good time.” He chuckles slightly. “Just not too good of a time.”

Mark nods. He opens the door, steps outside, and closes it.

He leaves his phone in the backseat.

. . . . .

You’re in the corner with Yeri, waiting for Jihyo and Daniel, when Lia walks through the door. Your eyes narrow.

“Where’s Mark?” Yeri expresses your question for you.

A barbed insult rises on your tongue, but you swallow it. Mark, whatever he said to you and you said to him, isn’t a bad person. He wouldn’t leave his date hanging. And sure enough, a few minutes later, he walks in too.

Only he doesn’t head for Lia.

His eyes search the room, clearly looking for someone else even though Lia’s almost directly in front of him. They settle on you, and he immediately starts walking – almost running – over.

“Why’s he coming here?” Yeri mutters. Annoyance starts building up in your chest as well, until Mark gets close enough for you to see the panicked but resolute expression on his face.

“Y/N,” he breathes once he reaches you. “Y/N, please, can we talk?”

The petty part of you wants to say no, but the rational part of you pushes it back. Mark looks like he’s about to have a heart attack. You’ve only ever seen him like this before when he’s full-on panicking.

Like that first anniversary of his uncle’s death.

You nod. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go. Now.”

Yeri makes a noise of concern in her throat, but you flash her a quick smile. “It’s fine, Yeri. Have fun with Jihyo and Daniel, all right? I’ll find you.”

You have a feeling you won’t.

Mark all but drags you out of the decorated cafeteria and into an empty, dark hallway. “Mark?” You grab his wrist, forcing him to turn around. “Mark, what’s wrong?”

“Lia’s dad is vulture man.”

Your knees go weak. “Run that by me one more time.”

“Lia’s dad is vulture man,” Mark says again, looking more and more panicked by the second. “He drove us here and when Lia mentioned I work with Tuan, he made the connection. He heard me talk that night with the explosions, remember?”

You do. All too well.

“He let me go if I promised not to say anything and now he’s going to pick up a fucking shipment somewhere in New Jersey and I left my phone in his backseat so one of us could stay behind and track it –”

You cut Mark off before he starts hyperventilating. “Haechan.”

“What? What does Haechan –”

“He came over one day and accidentally saw my outfit,” you explain. “He knows, Mark.”

Mark just takes it without further explanation. That’s how you know how frazzled he is. “Okay, so –”

You’re already calling him. Haechan picks up after two rings. “Y/N?”

“Come to the hallway just behind the cafeteria.” You hang up.

Haechan appears a minute later, looking extremely ruffled. “What’s going on?”

“Go to the library. Disable the cameras. Track Mark’s phone. We’re going after vulture man.”

“Wait, what –”

“Go!” you snap.

He goes.

“You keep your suit at school, right?” You don’t wait for an answer, just start sprinting down the halls. “Go get it and meet me at the back exit.”

Five minutes later, you’ve stripped out of your dress and are pulling on your mask as you race outside. Mark’s already there. You call Haechan. “Where’s Mark’s phone?”

“On 116th, heading north.” A keyboard clacks in the background. “If you go now, you can catch him. Traffic’s a bitch.”

Mark looks at you. You look at him.

Together, you swing onto the school rooftop and start running.

. . .

After fifteen minutes of nonstop sprinting and swinging and cursing when Haechan tells you to change directions, Mark finally spots the tail of the car. “There!” he yells, pointing to the streets as it takes a sharp turn and disappears.

Something doesn’t feel right. That road doesn’t go to the airport.

In fact, now that you think of it, you’ve been going in the complete opposite direction this entire time.

“The fuck?” you yell, leaping onto a streetlight. “That’s not the way to the airport! Haechan! Where’s he headed?”

“Don’t fucking know!” Haechan hisses into the phone. “Just keep going or you’ll lose him!”

You lose the car five minutes later. Haechan gets you back on track after five more. Fifteen excruciating minutes pass before Haechan finally says the car’s stopped.

“He’s at the old industrial park! You know, the one with the building that’s abandoned and shit? The one that everyone thinks is haunted?”

“Mark!” you screech above the noise of traffic. “I thought you said he was going to New Jersey!”

“I don’t fucking know! That’s what he told me! Obviously he lied!” Mark yells, still sprinting. Cursing under your breath, you follow.

Finally, you can see the park up ahead. The last few steps you take are more like stumbling than running. You almost collapse onto the ground right then and there.

“Okay,” Mark gasps, picking up the phone you’ve dropped. “We’re good, Haechan. Thanks. Just –” he wheezes – “be ready in case we call again.”

“Got it.” Haechan coughs slightly. “Be careful.”

The line goes dead.

The abandoned building looms ahead, dark and foreboding. You swallow.

“Let’s go.”

. . . . .

There’s a very clear reason why everyone thinks this industrial park is haunted. One: it looks haunted. Two: it used to house a very dangerous, non-law-abiding factory, and multiple people died in it. Three: it fucking looks haunted.

When Mark was younger, someone once dared him to come here and stay in the building alone for ten minutes. He didn’t take it, because he was a coward, but he also wasn’t stupid.

Now he’s just as much of a coward, but he’s obtained the stupid. Which is why he’s about to walk into the building that no one willingly goes into because they’re not stupid.

“I’ll go first,” he whispers. “It’ll be better if he thinks I’m alone.”

You nod. “I’ll be on the ceiling.”

Mark steps into the abandoned factory without you by his side. He can hear you stepping quietly above, which comforts him slightly, but it’s still strange to be walking through the empty halls all on his own. Your outline is barely visible to him in the dark.

The inside actually looks clean. Clearly, Lia’s dad has been using this place for some time. Parts and pieces of machinery litter tables spread out between several rooms. Some of them glow.

Mark moves faster. Hopefully he hasn’t left yet, hopefully he’s still here…

He rounds one more corner and turns into a humongous empty room. At the other end, Toomes stands, back to Mark, tinkering with something on another table.

Web strands streak out of the shooter on Mark’s wrist, pinning Toomes’s leg to the floor. The man looks around, barely fazed, and sighs. “Hey, Mark. Didn’t hear you come in.”

“It’s over,” Mark calls, stepping forward. “I’ve got you.”

Despite his words, though, he feels he couldn’t be further from the truth.

“You know, Mark, I really do admire your grit and perseverance.” Toomes turns fully, leaning against the table. “I see why Lia likes you. Gotta admit, at first, I kind of thought, ‘really?’ But I see it now.”

“Why would you do this to her?” Mark presses.

Toomes chuckles. “To her? On the contrary, young man, I’ve done all of this for her.”

Sure.

He must sense the nonplussed look on Mark’s face, even behind the mask, because he just sighs. “Mark. Listen. You’re too young. You don’t know how the world works.”

“Yeah, but I do understand that selling high-powered weapons made of alien materials that could potentially do more harm to citizens than a crate of machine guns combined is wrong,” Mark snaps.

“How do you think people like Stark paid for their shit? Their toys?” Toomes gestures broadly with one hand. “Those people up there, they don’t care about the underdogs like you and me. We clean their messes, fight their wars, and what do they do? They’re powerful. They just do whatever they want. They don’t care about us.” He sighs again. “That’s just how it is.”

Real anger starts to boil in Mark’s stomach. “Do not lump me with you,” he snarls. “On the contrary, I do know what you’re talking about. My uncle died when someone shot him in the stomach, and no one could find the shooter to bring him to justice. Just closed the investigation and let it rot. My best friend’s parents died after some drunk rich kid crashed their car. Daddy just paid off the courts, let the kid go free on probation. You think I don’t know how the world works?” He heaves in a breath. “The difference is, we – ” he catches himself before revealing he isn’t alone – “I’m trying to make it a better place. You’re so rotten that you think making the world worse is setting things right.”

Silence.

Mark sighs. “Why are you telling me all of this, anyway?”

“Because I want you to understand.” His eyes flicker upwards, and he smirks. “Oh, and I needed a bit of time to get her airborne.”

Her?

There’s a whizzing noise, and then you yell. A loud crunch sounds before Mark can even blink, and then you’re landing on the floor amidst a cloud of concrete dust.

“Should call her Raid, huh?” Toomes pats the flying metal device affectionately. “Pretty good at flushing out the roaches.”

“The only roach here is you,” you spit, standing up. “And the difference is that Raid kills.”

Toomes just lets the thing go.

The next few seconds are a blur. The device moves faster than he ever imagined anything could. Pillars crunch as it zooms through concrete. React or die – there’s no time to even think.

“I’m sorry, Mark.” Toomes’s voice carries through the room.

“The fuck are you talking about?” Mark yells. “It hasn’t even touched us!”

“True.” Toomes shrugs. “Then again, it wasn’t really trying to.”

Several more pillars crunch. Mark’s danger sense goes off like nuts.

Concrete blocks start crashing down all around him.

“If you get out of here, tell Mr. Stark I said hello,” Toomes laughs.

The last thing Mark hears is his voice screaming your name.

. . . . .

Trapped under several chunks of concrete, the first coherent thought that runs through your mind is where is Mark.

Then: how do I get out of here.

Panic bubbles in your chest when you finally register that concrete blocks have you encased on all sides. One pins your legs down. Two more flank your sides. Another rests on top of the others, giving you just enough air to breath but not nearly enough to move. A last block pretty much locks your head in.

You’re fully trapped.

Hysteria builds in your throat. You breathe faster. “Mark?” you yell as loud as you can. “Mark?” Your words turn to dry, choked sobs as you struggle underneath the blocks. “Anyone! Someone, help – Mark? MARK!”

There’s no reply.

You lie there for an untold amount of time, trying to calm your breathing. A few seconds? A few minutes? An hour? You don’t know. All you can think of is that you need to get out of here.

Come hell or high water, you’re finding Mark.

And then you’re going to hunt a vulture down.

Another deep breath. And then another. Your legs are pinned to the ground, not hard enough to break them – another block must be in the path of the more immediate one – but not enough for any movement at all. There’s a little space between your chest and the block above it, though.

You push.

The block shifts.

You push harder.

It shifts some more.

You scream as you shove your hands upward with all of your remaining energy. There’s a loud crumbling noise, a rush of dust that makes you cough and sneeze, and then your torso is free.

Moving the block on your legs is easier, though you’re far more drained than before. Throwing off the other concrete chunks, you stand up and start screaming Mark’s name again.

Time passes far too quickly and far too slowly as you stumble through the mess of rubble, hoarsely shouting for Mark. At some point, the shouts devolve into loud sobs and pleas and prayers to whatever god is listening to please, please help me find my best friend, I can’t live without him, I’m sorry for everything I thought about him these past few weeks, I love him and I want him back, please –

“Mark!” you scream, ready to sink to your knees with exhaustion. “Mark, please!”

You can’t live without him. You can’t. He pulls you from the earth when you get too jaded, softens your rough edges, smooths you into something beautiful that you wouldn’t be without him.

He can’t die.

“Y/N?”

It’s faint, but it’s there. You whip around in that direction, stepping lightly around the rubble to not bring more blocks down on him. “Mark?” you call.

“Here!”

You zero in on a pile of slightly moving blocks. With a chest nearly bursting with relief, you race over and start shoving them away. Slowly, Mark’s face becomes visible beneath a cloud of dust.

The sound of coughing never sounded more like a blessing in your entire life.

“Mark,” you sob, pulling your friend out of the mess. “Mark, holy fuck, I’m so sorry – I shouldn’t have yelled at you about pursuing this – I’m so fucking stupid, I thought you died –”

“Y/N,” he whispers hoarsely, wrapping his trembling arms around you. “Y/N, you’re here.”

He sounds so disbelieving, like he thought you were dead or dying. Maybe he still thinks that. It breaks your heart. “I’m here, Mark.” You bury your face in his shoulder. “I’m here.”

For several seconds, the two of you just sit there, exhausted, crying into each other’s necks. “I’m sorry,” Mark finally mumbles into your skin. “I shouldn’t have lied. I shouldn’t have pushed you away. I’m so sorry.”

You let out a choked laugh. “I’m sorry for overreacting. Sorry for yelling about you not wanting to continue – just fucking look where this got us.”

Mark pulls away. “No, don’t apologize for that.” He wipes his eyes, looking determined. “We’re alive. We’ve got Toomes.” You follow his gaze to an empty billboard just beyond the rubble. Metal wings, pressed together like a vulture’s, glimmer in the city lights. “We’re going to finish this.”

“You sure?” Not that you don’t want to. You’re itching to push that stupid scavenger off of a cliff, but you worry about Mark’s injuries. “You’re not hurt or anything?”

“No more than you.” Mark sets his jaw. “Let’s do this.”

You nod. “What was the last thing Toomes said? Something about Stark?”

Mark bites his lip. “Yeah. Something about telling Stark hello…” His eyes widen. “Isn’t Stark Industries moving a lot of stuff to the Avengers compound?”

Your heart stops. It’s all the news has been talking about for the past few weeks, how Stark is moving business to the Avengers headquarters. Stark Industries stock has been going nuts, apparently. You never remembered the exact date because you didn’t care, but…

“Today’s moving day,” you say grimly. You pat the pocket of your pants, surprised to see that your phone is still there in one piece. A quick text to Haechan tells him to track your phone, if he can.

Mark swallows, looking at the vulture glinting on the billboard. “Let’s go.”

. . . . .

The two of you stumble out of all the rubble just as the vulture is getting ready for takeoff.

A desperate shot of fluid and a leap gets Mark onto the billboard. Another string of webbing attaches him to one of the vulture wings. You stick yourself to the other.

Only pure instinct keeps Mark holding tight to the webbing, praying to the heavens that your synthetic webs will stay strong. He prays that you can hold on. He prays that Toomes won’t notice the two of you dragging along behind him as the webbing torturously swings him around. He forces himself not to look down, even as Toomes flies up higher and higher past skyscrapers and low-hanging clouds.

Mark looks over slightly, just to check on how you’re doing. Even in the dark, he can tell your eyes are squeezed completely shut, fingers gripping your string of webs as tightly as possible. Your lips are pressed together. Probably so you don’t scream.

Good idea. Mark shuts his mouth and looks ahead.

Then he sees the thing that Toomes is aiming for.

A huge jet looms ahead. To anyone down below, it would look like just like the passing clouds – there’s a sort of camouflage on it. But Mark’s close enough to see the outline of the plane, to notice the clear Stark seal on one wing.

His heart plummets even lower, if possible.

Then there’s no time to think because the vulture is landing and Mark is being bumped against the side of the plane and ow, this fucking hurts, this is such a mess –

A purple rectangle glows farther ahead on the belly of the jet. Mark registers you lashing out another string of webbing onto the plane as Toomes disappears into the glowing patch.

He’s inside the plane.

Mark starts sliding backward before he can fully process that thought. He thinks he hears you scream his name but he doesn’t have time to register it. His heart races as he scrabbles awkwardly on the underside of the plane until a lucky shot from his web shooter latches him into place.

And he doesn’t even have the time to take a fucking breath because Toomes is inside the plane and now he has to find a way to fuck around with the plane to take it down. The two of you are going to have to try to get the vulture’s attention.

Somehow, Mark finds himself splayed upside down on the bottom of plane. His palms stick to the jet – he’s never going to take being sticky for granted now – but his feet are scrambling. He finds a foothold in a tile or a bar or something and sighs in relief.

You yell something that’s garbled by the wind. “What?” Mark shouts.

“KICK!”

Without bothering to question you, he does.

His foothold disappears. Mark screams, curses, then steadies himself again. Why did you…?

Toomes climbs out of the purple patch, spitting mad.

Oh, fuck. Whatever his foothold was, it must have disappeared through the purple opening when he kicked it.

Well, it got the vulture’s attention, all right.

Wings shoot past Mark with blinding speed, nearly taking his scalp off. He ducks just in time, but when he lifts his head again, the vulture’s picked you up and is speeding off.

“NO!”

Mark raises an arm, not caring how precarious his position is, and shoots a web into the vulture’s wings.

It stops Toomes, especially after you shoot your own web onto one of the plane’s engines, causing his momentum to slam him backward into the plane right next to said engine.

And then you fly into the engine itself.

. . . . .

You can feel the engine literally trying to tear your clothes apart. One web keeps the engine far enough away that it stops trying to eat your skin, but you can still feel the pure heat and energy radiating off of it.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck –

With a loud cracking noise that you can hear above the whipping wind, the engine begins splitting off from the rest of the plane, nearly taking you with it.

Your anxious scrabbling rewards you with one hand on the edge of the plane, but the engine’s still trailing behind.

An idea springs into your mind. A plane is more likely to go down without an engine, and most of Stark’s planes don’t have human pilots.

If you can get the plane to crash…

Your legs slam down once, twice, three times, breaking the engine off completely. You haul yourself into a more stable position, ducking just in time for Toomes to come racing over your head.

Mark shouts something unintelligible. Vulture wings race over to attack him instead. You shoot webs wildly, trying to immobilize the wings, to hold you to the plane, to do something, anything.

One of the vulture wings sinks into the top of the plane.

“Those things were sharp?” you yell, unable to contain your thoughts anymore.

“The plane’s heading –” wind whistles as Mark shouts – “city!”

With wide eyes, you catch on. The plane is literally on course to crash into the buildings just off the beach.

Fuck fuck fuck how do we get it to land on the beach instead –

You lash out with another shot of web fluid, latching onto one of the plane’s wings. “PULL!” you shriek, motioning wildly for Mark to do the same.

Turn turn fucking turn PLEASE turn –

And somehow, as the jet plummets down so fast you can feel it scraping the tops of the roller coasters and buildings lining the beach’s pier, the two of you pull it off course enough to crash land on the empty beach.

You slam onto the sand. Your head throbs. Webbing is still attaching you to the plane.

Everything’s on fire. You can’t breathe. Slowly, with trembling fingers, you pull off your mask, beyond caring if Toomes sees who you are. He already knows Mark. At least he doesn’t know your name.

Air comes a bit easier then, even if the smoke finds a quicker path to your lungs too. Coughs rack your body and you turn to your side, trembling.

“God, what the fuck,” you mumble. Everything sounds muffled, like you’re underwater. Your sit up slowly. A small, dark lump swims into your vision.

Mark.

Something gets you to stand fully and start wobbling towards your best friend. By some fucking miracle, he starts to stir, sitting up just as you fall to the sand next to him.

There’s a second of silence.

Then vulture wings snap out and toss the two of you back into the air.

Toomes stands as you slam back into the sand, barely fazed, with a manic smile on his face. “Hey, Marcus and friends,” he sneers.

“Friends shouldn’t be plural,” you mumble. “I’m only one friend.”

Fast. He moves too fast. You barely lurch out of the way of his leap in time.

Toomes flies out of reach. Mark cries out, snapping out a string of webbing to bring him back to earth.

Mistake. Toomes lets the momentum bring him down.

And starts punching Mark in the face.

A guttural scream rips from your throat – literally rips, it feels like your throat has been torn apart and remade with blood and smoke and ash – and you launch into the air with some fucking hidden reservoir of strength fueled by pure rage to knock the metal-winged man over. Mark groans, rolling out of the way, only for the wings to pick him up again and take him to the sky.

And then he drops.

“MARK!”

You scramble under your best friend’s path, hands up as though you’re saying a prayer. Mark lands on you hard and maybe something snaps, but you don’t care because he’s breathing, his eyes are open, and he’s not dead.

But vulture man decides to play with you next. Before you can even blink, you’re being tossed up, landing hard between the sharp metal wings. He plucks you out of the air as you begin to fall and slams you back onto the earth.

Sharp pain claws through your chest and you just want to give up and lie down forever. But Mark is rolling away, somehow keeping out of reach of the winged man, and you pick yourself up so he doesn’t have to do it alone.

Two claw-like contraptions jet out from the engine on Toomes’s back, snagging both of you by your hoods. The neck of your hoodie digs into your throat.

Is this it?

Is he just gonna fuckin – you wheeze – fuckin watch us choke to death on fumes?

Apparently, he isn’t. He lets you go. You and Mark drop like stones.

“Pathetic.” Toomes stands over your bodies. You can’t see his face between his helmet and your blurred vision, but you know it must be twisted in that terrifying smirk. He takes off the helmet, laughs, and takes off, snatching up one of the less-battered boxes from the plane along the way.

That’s it.

You’ve failed.

You were too late.

You open your mouth to scream some fucking obscenities, but your voice dies when you hear the crackling. It’s not a good sort of crackling, like popcorn.

Electricity.

Mark raises his head and points. “He…” He coughs. “Going to explode.”

Blue sparks rise from the engine pack and shower off the metal wings, like a bizarre show of fireworks. And Mark, lovely selfless wonderful Mark, drags himself up and starts screaming.

“Wings!” he yells. “Your wing suit! Wing suit’s gonna explode!”

A jet of web fluid streaks from his shooter, pulling Toomes down. As Mark starts stumbling, Toomes pulling him along, you send out your own line of webbing. The two of you stand your ground with the last remnants of your strength.

“Time to go home, Marcus!” Toomes laughs wildly.

“I’M TRYING TO FUCKING SAVE YOU!” Mark screams. Tears streak down his face.

A sharp wingtip slices through your strings of webbing. You fall to the ground. From the sand, you can’t do anything but watch the disaster about to unfold.

It’s bizarrely beautiful. Purple-blue sparks rain down onto the beach, illuminating the sand and bits of the still ocean. Lightning arcs along the wings like a miniature, destructive storm.

Next to you, Mark tries to throw out more webbing. You can’t even find the energy to lift your arms. But his webbing misfires, lands on something else, flails in the air. It can’t reach Toomes, who’s now cackling wildly.

There’s an explosion. You’re thrown back further into the sand.

And then the vulture falls.

. . . . .

Mark knows how badly Toomes has hurt him. He knows how badly Toomes has hurt you. Cuts line his arms and face, there are bruises all over his body, and his head aches like it’s been smashed against a solid surface, which it has. You’re in at least the same condition, if not worse.

But he can’t just let the man die. He can stand trial, get life behind bars, but he can’t just die.

So from somewhere, he drags out a final burst of strength, and starts running through the fires to where the vulture fell. His feet fall unsteadily on the sand, but he keeps forcing them on.

Coughing sounds nearby. Mark looks over to see you following, head twisted to the side as you hack out cough after cough. He wants to tell you to go back and rest, but he knows you won’t.

Instead, he slows down for a second and takes your hand before forging on.

The wings have encased Toomes in a sort of shell. With your help, Mark shoves them off to get at the battered man lying beneath them. He grabs his chest. You grab his legs. Together, you carry him off to another part of the beach.

The three of you collapse, groaning and coughing and wheezing on the sand. Mark stares at the black night, stars invisible from light pollution.

Nothing feels real. The sand under his hands glitters ominously in the firelight. The ocean shimmers like a threat. Toomes hacks and coughs, each sound scarier than the last.

And then something warm, something dirty and rough and soft, lands on his hand. Your fingers curl around his palm and squeeze lightly.

Oh.

That feels real.

Your touch grounds him, keeps his thoughts from floating away and disappearing into the void of the sky. He wants more of it. He wants to pull you close, feel your body against his, real, solid, whole, keeping him planted on the earth. But he doesn’t have the strength to, so he just takes what he can from your warm touch.

Mark doesn’t know how long the three of you just lie on the sand. He does know that at some point, you and him gain enough strength to sit up and then stand. You look at Toomes, who stares back, unseeing.

“It’s over,” you mumble, almost staggering into Mark’s side. “We’re done.”

He nods. “Just one more thing.”

. . . . .

Pictures in newspaper articles show up the next day of Toomes, webbed up and immobilized against a still-standing box from the wreckage of Tony Stark’s plane. In most, the photographer has taken great care to keep the ragged note, stuck on Toomes’s forehead, clear in the frame.

The note is messy, written in trembling handwriting on the back of what looks like an inventory sheet. Black soot stains the page, but the writing is still visible.

FOUND: flying vulture dude trying to steal alien weapons and stuff

- Spiderman and Silk (sorry about the plane)

You don’t care much for it. The day after homecoming is Saturday, which you spend curled up in your bed. At some point, after you’ve finally gained the strength to shower off all the grime and blood and sweat, Johnny makes a joke about how hard you must’ve gone that night. Thankfully, you don’t have many cuts on your face. They’re all hidden under layers of clothing. His eyes don’t linger too long on anything, so you feel a bit safer.

But, Jesus Christ, if only he knew.

By Monday, you feel refreshed enough to head back to school. Johnny doesn’t have an abnormally late shift that day, so you give him a hug before you leave. If it’s a little tighter than normal, he doesn’t say anything, just kisses your head and hugs you back.

You spot Lia in the hallway, pulling stuff out of her locker. Her eyes are puffy and red. Guilt rises in your stomach and threatens to swallow you whole.

Even though Toomes tried to kill you, he was still her father. And now that she knows what he’s done…

That can’t be easy.

“Lia,” you call, walking over cautiously. She turns her head and gives you a weak smile.

“Hey.”

“I…” You shuffle your feet. “I heard what happened. I’m really so sorry. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now.”

You are sorry. But Lia won’t take it in the way you mean. After all, she doesn’t know that you’re one of the two vigilantes who took her father down.

Lia’s smile turns bitter. “Yeah. Well, we’re moving to Oregon. Mom says it’s nice.” She rolls her eyes. “I think –” she chokes – “I think Dad doesn’t want us here during the trial.”

More guilt washes over your entire body. You can’t think of what to say.

“Look, I know we don’t know each other very well.” You swallow. “But if there’s ever anything I can do to help, please just know that you can reach out.”

Lia looks at you. Scrutinizes you through puffy, narrowed eyes. “You know, I really did think that the night of homecoming, you and Mark snuck off together.”

What?

“Oh my god, no.” You shake your head wildly. “No, no, no. That didn’t happen, I swear –”

Well, it kind of did. Just not in the way she thinks.

“Yeah, I know.” Lia smiles half-heartedly. “Mark already told me. He called, after. His aunt had an emergency, you were the only one he could reach out to in the moment…” She trails off.

It’s a lie. Obviously. You just nod, heart sinking.

“But yeah.” Lia looks at you steadily. “He’s a good guy.”

You nod, throat tight. “Yeah.”

“I thought he might’ve actually liked me, but…” She wipes her eyes. “It’s pretty clear who he really does.”

At that, your eyebrows furrow. “Lia, I promise you that he really did like you.”

“Maybe. Just not as much as he or I thought.” She gives you one last smile. “Take care of him.”

You really don’t have the mental energy to process everything behind that statement, so you just smile slightly. “I will.”

Lia reaches out for a hug. You accept. It isn’t super awkward, like you would’ve thought. She trembles slightly in your hold and you pat her back.

“Good luck,” you whisper.

She pulls away. “Thanks.”

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spaceskam · 4 years ago

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ao3

Carlos liked the rain.

Maybe not even just liked, he loved it. He looked forward to it. Growing up, he would stand outside in it until his mother yelled at him to come inside. He was going to catch a cold, she’d say. He never did.

When he got a little older and moved to the big city, he found there were simultaneously more changes for him to get caught in the rain and less time for him to actually enjoy it. He walked through it to get to his car, but then his clothes would be wet all day. He’d run through puddles to cross the street, but then his shoes would get soaked for at least two days. It’d pour, but then people would act stupid and he’d have to drive super slow to avoid getting in a wreck. He’d get to stand in it for a few minutes, but then he had to pretend to be an adult and do something productive.

Besides, wine was a quicker and more reliable way to enjoy himself at the end of the day anyway.

Now, he couldn’t remember the last time he got to truly enjoy the rain. He couldn’t remember the last time he was still long enough to enjoy the way it hit the roof or the way it made a morning drive a little more relaxing. He’d nearly forgotten what he loved about it all together. It was just another thing, another nuisance.

Then he arrived at the Strand household to check on TK.

He’d still been out of work and, even though he said he was fine, popping stitches wasn’t exactly the funnest pastime to have. Carlos didn’t really trust his definition of ‘fine’ either. TK saying he was fine could just as easily mean he’d fallen through the floor and gotten his foot stuck. So, if he paid him a visit with some homemade soup and a handful of kisses, he could check on him without making it obvious that he was worried.

“Carlos! What a surprise,” Owen said when he opened the door before he could even knock. Carlos smiled politely and said hello. “I was just leaving, actually, I have a date. TK is out back.”

Carlos furrowed his eyebrows and looked up at the sky. It’d been thundering for a while and the sky was gray‒it was going to storm any minute now. He’d clearly come at a good time.

“Thanks,” Carlos said, “Have fun on your date.”

“I absolutely will!” Owen laughed, smile bright as ever, “You have fun on yours! Lock the door for me, will you?”

He was already halfway to his truck before Carlos could even say that it wasn’t really a date if he was simply coming to force TK to take it easy. Instead, he just went inside and locked the door behind him.

Carlos made himself at home as he traveled to the kitchen, placing the soup he made on the counter. He was in the middle of trying to find a pan when the sky opened up with a loud crack of thunder. He paused for a moment, smiling as the rain pounded against the roof. It took him a few more seconds to remember that TK was still outside.

He quickly got to his feet, feeling all too motherly as he reached the backdoor. When he opened it, he saw TK and Buttercup playing in the rain. TK was laughing and laying on his back as the large dog just licked his face. He looked happy in a way Carlos wasn’t used to seeing him.

“TK,” Carlos called after a few moments of staring at him, “Come inside! You’re going to get sick!”

“Carlos!” TK yelled back, turning his head towards him with that bright smile, “Come here!”

“It’s raining!”

“I know!”

Carlos lingered in the doorway as TK wrestled a bit to get Buttercup off of him long enough to get to his feet. Then he all but ran towards Carlos, his hair matted to his forehead and smiling like the sun itself. He was beautiful.

“Are you allergic to grass?” TK asked as he reached out to grip Carlos’ shirt. He wanted to glare at him and try to pull him inside, wanted to dry him off and put him in warm clothes, wanted to feed him soup and kiss that smile on his face until it became permanent.

But he also wanted to be pulled.

“No,” Carlos said simply. TK’s smile grew wider somehow and he tightened his grip, pulling Carlos out of the house and into the rain.

His shoes made a gross sloshy sound and his shirt instantly got soaked as he was pulled against TK’s chest. A hand went to the back of his head and he was tugged down and kissed completely and utterly senseless. It was stupidly messy and his smile never went away. Buttercup barked at them, but neither of them parted as Carlos grabbed his hips.

“I didn’t know you were coming over,” TK whispered as they pulled away. Carlos caught his breath and nodded.

“I made you soup.”

“You’re so cute,” TK laughed, still holding the back of his head as he took a few steps back.

The rain washed over them and Carlos couldn’t help as he tilted his head back, letting it hit his face while TK’s hands were on him. It didn’t take long for him to remember why he loved the rain so much.

Then, however, TK’s deceiving amount of strength grabbed him and he was in the grass in a puddle of water with a hand making sure he didn’t hit his head. Part of him thought he’d be angry, but instead he just laughed. TK was on top of him and just laid down to go back to kissing him until he forgot everything except the taste of his lips.

Buttercup barked and sniffed at them, jumping around to try and how to play with them. TK just laughed and pressed down on Carlos, kissing him and touching him over and over and over. Rainwater kisses were dragged across his cheek and his neck.

“Wait, your stitches‒”

“Carlos,” TK said, pausing as thunder cracked and lightning lit up the sky. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. “Stop being responsible.”

Carlos thought about arguing, but that thought flew out of his mind nearly as quickly as it came. He grabbed TK’s thighs and flipped them over. TK smiled at him in that way that made his heart beat too quickly in his chest.

“You can feed me soup later,” TK said, “Right now, I’d rather you feed me something else.”

Carlos laughed, leaning down as the rain pounded onto his back and the sky lit up with lightning again. Buttercup barked and nudged at them for attention. Carlos couldn’t take his eyes off of TK. He loved him. He really, really loved him.

So Carlos kissed him and he had no intention of stopping.

#tarlos #tarlos fic #tk strand #carlos reyes #911 lone star #my fic

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gloves94 · 4 years ago

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To Be So Lonely [Draco Malfoy] 22

Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Draco Malfoy/OC Chapter warnings: Cursing?

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

MY MASTER-LIST

It had downright been a foul week.

The First Task of the Triwizard tournament had already occurred.

Thankfully nobody had been injured too badly. Harry had received a scratch from the dragon and had come in first tied with Krum for first place. Fleur had come in last and Cedric, after having some points deducted from having part of his face burnt off by the dragon, came in third. This incident had landed him in the Hospital Room where he was constantly surrounded by hordes of adoring fans, friends and students that were concerned for him.

It was early on a Saturday when Nel decided to pay her friend a visit. Thankfully it seemed like the Hospital Room was vacant with the exception of Madame Pomfrey.

She approached Cedric who was sitting on his bed content with half of his beautiful symmetrical face covered by a bandage that would hopefully heal nicely. “So what’s the verdict Scarface?” She asked crudely as she took a seat on the chair next to his hospital bed.

The older boy looked up from a get-better card he had been reading and smiled at his business associate laughing slightly at what he interpreted to be a joke.

“Madame Pomfrey says it’ll heal nicely, won’t even leave a scratch.”

Of course, it wouldn’t.

Leave it to Cedric to keep his stupidly beautiful face intact after almost having it burnt off. Hell, who knows he could be the only one able to be able to pull off a half-burnt face and look just as handsome.

“You cost me ten galleons,” She sighed crossing her arms over her chest upset.

“You bet on me?” Cedric laughed a little incredulously. “Like a racehorse?”

She didn’t want to think about the stupid bet Malfoy had talked her into.

“Ladies choice,” Draco had said with the mocking tone of a gentleman as they sat in the stands ready to witness the four champions taken on the first task.

Without giving it much thought Nel bet on Cedric. She needed him to win if she wanted to get paid. Also, why would she doubt his abilities?

“You’re not betting on Scarhead?” Malfoy scoffed. “What? No faith in your friend?” He spat out the word friend almost as if it was toxic.

“I’m not going to bet on Harry exactly because he’s my friend!” She huffed irritated. (It wasn’t a complete lie.)

If only Cedric hadn’t slipped towards the end. She should’ve bet on Harry who at least tied with Krum. Then maybe she would’ve been ten galleons richer instead of having to painfully cough them up. At the rate these bets were going she would lose all her money to a brat that didn’t even need it.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Draco said ostentatiously taking the golden coins from her. It really wasn’t fair.

Come on! He didn’t even need it!

“Don’t talk to me,” She grumbled before leaving and going to check on Cedric at the Hospital Room.

“I’m running a business Diggory,” She said cooly.

Cedric eyed her oddly. She could be so strange sometimes.

“I thought that was you the other day, standing by the door, hiding,” He teased sitting up taller. She avoided his hazel eyes. Nel would’ve never admit it to her business partner but naturally she was concerned for him. I mean who wouldn’t? The golden boy had almost been turned into a roast marshmallow.

“I’ve got a clue for you,” She informed. “About the second task.”

He looked at her attentively. The Second Task of the tournament wouldn’t be until late February and they were barely at the end of November. How had she figured it out so quickly?

“I think it has to do with the Great Lake,” she said scratching her chin seeming deep in thought. Or at least that’s what Nathair had mentioned to her. The adder had said that when creeping around the castle grounds he had seen some men in suits, probably from the Ministry of Magic as well as Dumbledore, Hagrid and others walking around the Black Lake’s perimeter. “Some of the Ministry members were seen walking around it.”

“What? You think they’re going to make us wrestle the Giant Squid now?” His eyes widened slightly at the horrible thought.

“Not sure,” Her brows knitted together. Honestly, she wouldn’t put it past the Ministry of Magic. Her eyes fixing on a random spot on the window above his hospital bed. “What about your clue?” She turned her attention to the large golden egg besides his bed.

Cedric explained it was just terrible shrieking. Completely undistinguishable noise. He said it didn’t sound like anything he had ever heard before. Both tossed and debated some ideas of what the potential next task could be.

“Whatever it is, I’ll keep doing some research,” she stood up and stuck her hand inside of her book bag. “Here,” She spoke her voice less harsh as she pulled out a card that was lamely hand crafted and a knitted thing that resembled a lemon? Or a ball?

He eyed it curiously as he picked it up and gave it a strong squeeze. “Did you make this?”

“It’s a knit lemon stress ball. It’s enchanted to never explode no matter how hard it is squeezed,” She explained. “Feel better,” She said quietly, ready to run to the opposite side of the room. Embarrassed for showing concern over the Hufflepuff. Specially for Cedric. To him this was probably garbage, his friends and fans had probably gifted him way nicer and more useful presents.

“Thanks, Nel, this is really thoughtful,” He smiled sincerely flashing her the dashing smile that made all the girls around him swoon. She remained silent simply wanting to exit the room as quickly as possible. “Where are you going?”

“Snape has summoned all the Slytherins in the Assembly Room. Merlin knows what kind of vile torture he’s got in mind for us,” she half joked.

Xxx

Despite having been joking, the Slytherin hadn’t been far off. Snape did have a torturous idea in mind. Ballroom dancing. With him.

“There you are!” Tracey said to her friend the moment she arrived to the large room where all of Slytherin House was gathered. Snape stood in the center of the room looking beyond irritated. Even Mr. Filch was in the room standing by the sides next to an ancient looking record player, holding his dancing partner Mrs. Norris in his arms. “Where were you?” Tracey asked.

“Oh!” Nel shot her a mean glare. “So, I can’t ask where you’ve been, but you can?” She shot before giving her friend the cold shoulder.

Tracey grew silent and looking burdened with guilt turned away from her friend ignoring the stab she had just taken at her. It was true. Tracey had now been sneaking off been missing from everybody’s radar from weeks and nobody seemed to know where she was, what she was doing or who she was with. It even seemed like Tracey had crossed the point of lying after having been caught in one of her lies more than once.

On the other hand, Daphne seemed much too distraught by the current events.

“Isn’t this exciting?” She said in a dreamy tone as she beamed at her friends and clapped her perfectly manicured hands together.

“What is?” The dark eyed girl uttered in a dark tone as she glared at an older Slytherin that had been starring at her from across the room. It also seemed like the audience had been divided into males one side of the room females in the other.

“The Yule Ball has been a tradition of the Triwizard tournament since its inception. On Christmas Eve night we and our guest gather in the Great Hall for a trivial and rather dull conviviality,” Snape began to explain. His nasal voice echoing off the walls of the large room lulling some younger students to sleep. “As representatives of the host school and Slytherins I expect each and every one of you will represent the House with pride. Foolish behavior will be unacceptable, and I will not tolerate the lot of you acting like a cluster of dunderheads,” He took inhaled a deep breath sounding absolutely drained. “Sadly, the Yule Ball is first and foremost a dance and to save yourselves and Slytherin House the grueling humiliation - we will be reviewing the basics of ballroom… dancing,” he scowled almost spitting out the word as if it physically hurt him to say it.

Most of the girls in the room chatted excitedly and turned to gush at their friends. One of those being Daphne who probably already knew what she was going to wear, how she was going to do her hair and make-up and probably even who her date would be. Tracey looked terribly uncomfortable through the meeting keeping her gaze lowered to the wooden floor and Nel had a blank look of confusion on her face. She had a hard time telling her right from left how was she supposed to bloody learn how to ballroom dance and from Snape.

“I am certain the majority of you have had dance lessons before,” He grumbled almost resembling a miserable wet crow. This ball, it almost sounded like he had a personal vendetta against it. Yikes.

Amongst the excited girls was Pansy who felt the need to make an announcement. “I’ve been taking lessons since I was six,” she bragged proudly while keeping her eyes fixed on the prize. A certain blond across the room. Was she secretly hoping to impress him?

Most of the males groaned dreading having to hunt down dates and get their dancing shoes ready.

“Congratulations Parkinson,” Snape said deprecatingly his tone heavily dripping with sarcasm. “I will now proceed to demonstrate the basic footwork with somebody inexperienced who lacks the proper grace required to perform the art of dancing.”

Nel was too busy snickering at the Professor’s sarcastic comment she didn’t realize he called on her. Pansy shot her a triumphant glare, that’s what she got for laughing.

“What?” She looked around the room nervously. She would’ve been a lot braver if he had asked her to slay a dragon or take down a giant squid. Nel had never danced in her life. Maybe that one time when Wool’s Orphanage held a local fundraiser back in London in which the children had to torturously perform a dance to “Jingle Bell Rock”; Even that had been a catastrophe. She winced slightly at the embarrassing memory of accidentally kicking a boombox directly into someone’s face.

“Professor, as a concerned student-“ She began with persuasion. “I think you should select a more prepared, even a more eloquent partner. Everybody heard what Parkinson said, she’s practically been dancing her whole life-“

He silenced her with a deathly glare that commanded her up to her feet. She let out an exhausting sigh as the loud sniggers were heard around the room as she approached the professor. Embarrassed she rubbed her arm standing next to the Potions Master feeling both extremely awkward and small standing next to him with all eyes fixed on the two of them.

“As I said. If an unskillful, inelegant person like Saintday can be taught to dance, so can anybody in this room.”

‘Geez, alright, take it easy with the compliments,’ she thought resenting his comments. Again, the majority of the room laughed. This was humiliating.

“Silence,” Snape snapped his loud voice echoing the newly found silence in the room. “The House of Salazar Slytherin has commanded the respect of the Wizard World for nearly a millennium and I will not have you sullying that name in the course of a single evening.” He paused before stretching out a pale hand. “Ms. Saintday,” he bowed his head slightly.

The quiet laughing in the room made her cringe as she took the professor’s hand.

Xxx

That had been absolutely mortifying.

“I’m never going to let you live that down!” Theodore laughed loudly as they excited the Assembly Room. The four Slytherins walked together as they exited the room and the Gryffindors went in.

“Even if you deny it I know you’re one of Snape’s favorites. Private lessons with him and now a personal ballroom lesson?” He teased in reference of the private meetings Saintday had with the professor in order to improve the weak control she had over her volatile emotions.

“I will kill you,” She cursed. Laughing, Theo excused himself and said he was going to catch up on some Transfigurations homework.

“My dress should be arriving soon,” They overheard a loud voice bragging as the three girls attempted to walk away from its source. “It’s made out of the only the finest silk. Imported. Cost a fortune. Initially daddy opposed but once mother convinced him I just had to have it – well he caved. Obviously, his little girl has to have the best of the best. Wouldn’t you agree Daphne?”

“I’m excited to see your dress!” Daphne responded unaffectedly. Above all things came art, beauty, design and fashion.

“I might be the best dressed, of course after you,” Pansy added eyeing Daphne with some resentful bitterness. She turned to look at Millicent hoping her best friend would have her back, but instead she seemed distraught, probably also distressed about what she’d wear to the dance or who her date would be.

“I’ll say,” Pansy cleared her throat. “I can’t wait to see what rags you pull out of the rubbish bin Saintday. That is if you even manage to get a date for the ball. With that disgraceful footwork and graceless poise, I doubt it,” She laughed obnoxiously with her friend.

Nel was ready to lunge at her Tracey and Daphne held her back. “Shut up Parkinson nobody cares about you or your stupid dress you irrelevant twit!” She shouted at her. Pansy gasped and began rambling about who was really relevant and who wasn’t.

“Don’t listen to her Nel,” Daphne said looking over her shoulder as they walked away from the other two Slytherins and descended into the dungeon. “She’s just looking to get a reaction out of you.”

The irritated Slytherin was about to respond went something vibrantly orange phased through her a loud cackling laughter followed. Oh no.

“Oi there, if it isn’t Slytherin’s Spotted Cod,” He levitated before the three girls with a broad Cheshire grin that meant the poltergeist was – as per usual - up to no good.

“Spotted… Cod?” Tracey repeated the nickname with confusion. Nel gave her a look not to ask.

“I hope you haven’t forgotten Dots,” Peeves leaned in dangerously close looking at her eye to eye. Of course, Nel knew what he was referring to. He was referring to that time he showed her the secret passageway out of the Defense Against the Dark Art’s Office. She had been hoping he had forgotten but of course, Peeves never forgets.

“You know Peeves, I don’t think it’s a good idea,” She said running a hand through her hair nervously.

His ghastly face instantly shifted to a scowl. “We had a deal,” He growled out becoming more agitated.

“I don’t have time for this,” She admitted sincerely. She really didn’t. In between her work, lessons with Snape, helping Cedric with the tasks, finding a dress and somehow convincing Ellar to ask her to be his date for the Yule Ball, Nel really had her hands full. For once she just wanted to have a perfectly ordinary night. She tried to sidestep the ghost, her two friends following behind, but Peeves once again phased through her.

“You owe me!” He shrieked loudly as the poltergeist began throwing a terrible tantrum. The pipes in the ceiling above them burst soaking them. Some of the armor figures in the dungeon all bent in unnatural ways and cold water rained down on them. Daphne spit out a mouthful of water and glared at the poltergeist with great distaste.

“Alright,” Nel ceded to her side of the bargain. “Alright,” She raised her hands in a truce. “You got me. I’ll do as you wish,” she let out a frustrated breath.

“You know what to do!” he cackled manically before backflipping out of scene. She rubbed her temples in great frustration at what she would have to do. Daphne and Tracey didn’t seem to question his motives. Both simply stood very still.

“Is this water…” Tracey spoke after a moment. “Clean?” She wondered out loud.

“I don’t want to know,” Daphne pivoted on her heel as she rushed inside of the Common Room sounding almost as if she was going to vomit. “Same,” The brunette followed with repulsion.

Xxx

After a rather disgusting Saturday morning Daphne and Nel decided to head to Hogsmeade for the day to go dress shopping. Tracey had excused herself with a blatant lie that neither of the two bothered calling out. Daphne already knew what she was wearing to the ball. She actually had a tailor personally make it for her over the summer holiday and she was praying it still fit her. Being a good friend, she offered to go dress shopping with Nel for fun... Nel doubted that Cloelia would bother in sending her an outfit, let alone a fine dress for the ball, but then again who knew maybe if Ellar was her date?

“Do you think he’s going to ask you?” Daphne asked in the carriage to Hogsmeade. “I don’t know,” The other girl babbled with excitement.

“I mean- we have been talking a little more and more each time, the other day he held my hand in the Great Hall.”

“Really?” Daphne enthused back with the same enthusiasm

“Well, kind of- it was more of a pat,” She admitted the reality. “But- never say never, right?” She laughed lightly as they arrived at the Wizard village.

Distraught looking at the snow that was beginning to fall Daphne pulled Nell out of her daydream. “Look!” She hissed in a loud whisper. “There he is!” She discretely pointed at the wizard whom the two had just been talking about. Speak of the Devil…

Ellar was wearing a dark blue coat and appeared to be window shopping for something outside of Zonko’s. He was with some of his Beauxbaton school mates who were all laughing at a particular prank toy.

“Go talk to him!” She urged her friend nudging her forward.

“Are you nuts?” The other shot back looking down at the gray jumper she was wearing and dark jeans. Definitely not as presentable as she wished she’d be.

“I can’t talk to him now – He’ll think I’m asking him to the dance!”

“That’s the point!” Daphne struggled as she snaked her arm under her friend’s and dragged her forward the two bickering back and forth until they stood in front of the group of French students. “Just smile!” She advised with a sharp hiss through her clenched teeth.

“Bonjour,” Daphne greeted politely in poor French. Although Nel doubted any of them even heard or listened, most were probably distracted by her smile and glowing cheeks.

“H-Hi Ellar,” Nel stammered not even remembering to greet him in the French she had been practicing so hard to impress him.

“Daphne, is it?” Ellar greeted taking her hand in his and leaning in to kiss her face three times on each side like the French did. “Elowen,” He turned his attention to her and did the same.

“What are you doing here?” He asked.

“We came dress shopping. You know, for the Yule Ball,” She edged on the topic anxiously. Dancing on the heels of her feet, lightly swaying forward hoping he’d take the initiative to ask her.

“I see,” He acknowledged and wiped the edge of his nose. “I’m sure you’ll look very beautiful,” His lips stretched into a thin smile. “The both of you,” He added also acknowledging Daphne. With that he bid them goodbye before walking into Zonko’s with his friends.

Daphne brought a hand to her temple when she saw her friend literally pressing her face against the window shop’s glass starring at the back of the French boy’s dark wavy-haired head.

“Ugh..” She groaned out painfully. “Why didn’t he ask me?” She cried out dramatically.

Daphne rolled her eyes and peeled her desperate looking friend off the glass. “Maybe it wasn’t obvious enough.”

“I think it was pretty,” she touched the tip of her nose. “On spot.”

“Just ask him yourself next time you see him,” Daphne advised.

“But I want him to ask me. Not the other way around!” Nel cried back childishly. Daphne tried to convince her it wasn’t a big deal if she did the asking. Easy for her to say. Everybody would probably be dying to go to the ball with the prettiest Slytherin.

Again, Daphne shook her head as the two walked into a large pink and teal shop that was named Gladrags Wizardwear “245 years dressing the Elegant Wizard” a sign outside of the shop read.

“What about this one?” Daphne immediately rushed to a beautifully sleek plum colored dress evening gown. Nel almost had a heart attack when looking at the price tag. “How about we look in the discount section?” She coughed awkwardly already feeling her wallet stinging from the unnecessary expense of wearing a dress.

“Nel,” Daphne held onto her hand, stopping her in the spot and giving her a knowing look. “This is a once in a lifetime event. We are never going to live another Yule Ball,” She said melodramatically sounding as if it was a life or death situation. “I know you’re careful with your spending, but don’t you for once want to treat yourself?” She insisted.

Elowen didn’t want to look into her persuasive grey green eyes. She knew that if she did, she would cave. Daphne wasn’t wrong, she had been hoarding her savings like a dragon sitting atop a small fortune. But then again, she had been very careless about it even losing some of it to Malfoy in stupid and unnecessary bets. Maybe, just maybe Daphne was right, and she deserved to allow herself one nice treat.

“Don’t you want to feel like a dream? Have all eyes on you for one magical night?”

It was too tempting. Her greedy eyes looked at the expensive dresses in the shop and she wondered just how easy yet unnecessary it would be to swipe one of them or trade the tag with something in clearance. She didn’t want to be the only girl wearing a uniform at the ball. Specially not if she was planning on attending with Ellar Lestrange. The young man would probably show up looking like a dreamy prince from a faraway land and she would look- well… Like what she really was – a nobody.

She couldn’t help but think of Pansy’s cruel taunts and her and Millicent’s loud laughter. Insecurity also pricking at her side to buy the damn dress.

“Just imagine,” Daphne continued to press. “You, Ellar, the night… It’ll be like a fairy-tale!”

Daphne painted a very tempting image of what the night would be like. Magical.

She was right. She had to do it. This was completely a necessary expense. She was going to dazzle not just Ellar Lestrange, but everybody that ever looked down at her during this night. Even Parkinson and Bullstrode.

“Let’s do it,” She quickly caved before she changed her mind. “Really?” Daphne’s eyes went wide and she squeezed her friend’s hand tightly as she jumped squealing eager to begin shopping before beginning to ramble about the jewelry, she would lend her and how they were going to do their hair and make-up and shoes- of course you couldn’t forget the shoes.

Xxx

Nel’s head was still spinning from having spent such an unreal amount of money on a dress she would probably only wear once. The girls had returned to the Common Room where they left the dress before Daphne asked her to come to the Courtyard with her to paint since Theodore and Tracey were nowhere to be found.

“Let me get this straight,” Nel said sounding terribly bored as she stood next to Daphne holding a tray of acrylic paints as the girl painted a canvas with the school’s Courtyard. “You’re painting what exactly? Haven’t you painted the same Courtyard at least a dozen times before?”

Daphne looked at her as if she was insane. “Well,” She began her artistic digest. “It’s never really the same is it? No matter how many times I paint it my mood is never the same, the light is never the same. It’s always a different season or a different perspective. Even if to you it’s the same dull courtyard it never is to me. In a way life can be like that too. Like the way a day is always different from the night before or the day to come, or the way two thumbprints or even two loves are never really the same.” Daphne got a dreamy look on her face before realizing she had perhaps gotten too carried away in her passionate artistic declaration. Regardless she didn’t apologize for her boldness. Nel starred at her friend in awe and her eyes scanned the same Courtyard she had been in hundreds of times before. Daphne was… well, right. She had never taken the time to romanticize her day in such a manner, but then again who did?

“Like- take a look, what looks different?” She encouraged.

“The First-Years are playing gobstones by the entrance, Diggory is out of the Hospital surrounded a lot of Hufflepuffs – typical. Malfoy is climbing up the courtyard’s tree-“ Her eyes narrowed on the silvery blonde that was suspiciously climbing up that tree he had been up in a couple of weeks ago. However, she found it odd that he was alone.

“That’s weird,” Her eyes narrowed in suspicion as he appeared to be carving something into its bark.

Putting the paints on a tall stool next to her friend she approached the tree with a mistrustful attitude. Daphne smiled a little and shook her head. No day was the same as the last. Who knew, maybe today she’d paint the ancient tree being set on fire by Nel Saintday.

Autumn leaves crunched under her feet as she approached the oak tree. Upon closer inspection she saw Draco up on the tree eating a green apple with one hand and indeed carving something into the bark with his wand in his right hand.

“I didn’t take you as a vandal,” She said loudly startling him so much he almost fell down “Then again, why would I be surprised?” “Stars, Saintday, don’t sneak up on me!” He snapped rudely before hopping down with a crouch before gracefully dusting any invisible dirt off himself.

“Why are you vandalizing the tree?” She asked her newest friend. If that’s what they were.

“Why are you sneaking up on me?” He shot back defensively crossing his arms over his chest. “Geez, I was just making conversation,” She raised her eyebrows before walking away from the hostile Slytherin. “I figured bothering you would be more entertaining than watching Daphne paint.”

“So, Greengrass and Nott. I take it they’re going to the Yule Ball together,” He commented changing the topic.

“Yeah,” Nel scratched her cheek. “Seems like it.”

They hadn’t really talked about it but judging by how close the two seemed it made sense.

“And Davis?” He walked towards her, the way he seemed to swagger pompously as he took another bite from his apple. Nel shrugged in a disinterested response. Sad that she had no clue who her best friend intended on attending to the dance with.

“And you?”

She gave him a blank look before shrugging in an exaggerated manner. She wanted to go with Ellar Lestrange. She wanted him to ask her, but as of now nothing was official. “How on bloody hell am I supposed to know? They just told us about the stupid dance today,” this time she was the one who raised her guard at the invasive question. He probably wanted to make fun of her just like Pansy had earlier in the day.

“Wouldn’t put it past you to take Professor Snape. You two really swept the dance floor today,” he laughed at the dance lesson they had had earlier that day.

Alright. This conversation was over. Glowering, Nel turned around to return to Daphne. She wasn’t going to stand there just so he could take jabs and make fun of her all afternoon long.

“I’ve got a proposition for you Saintday,” He called as he continued to enjoy himself.

“I’m not playing any more games with you Malfoy,” She called over her shoulder as she began to walk away from him. “You always cheat.”

That wasn’t a complete lie. The boy had known he would befriend Viktor Krum at the World Cup before he gambled that they would sit together. Last time when gambling during the First Task, well, that had just been sheer dumb luck. Although she wouldn’t put it past him to fix the game in some type of way.

“Come on, I’m offering you a chance to redeem yourself and make up for your loses,” he dangled the offer. It sounded like the kind of thing gambling addicts told themselves. What was one more bet. One more shot to make up for what had been lost. She had already lost some money to him and spent a ridiculous sum of money on a dress. Maybe it wouldn’t have seemed like a lot to him, but Nel cherished every knut and galleon that she worked for. Unlike him, allowing money to slip through her fingers and down the drain wasn’t a luxury she could afford to have.

“How about this,” He proposed sinking a hand into his pocket almost as if he was hiding something. The other still held half an eaten apple, he appeared to be thoughtfully chewing it when he spotted Cedric Diggory across the Courtyard surrounded by other Hufflepuffs.

“I bet you don’t have it in you to ask Diggory to be your escort to the Yule Ball.” She looked at him incredulously. “I’ll give you five, no ten galleons if you do it.”

Alright, so it wasn’t a gamble. It was more of a dare than a bet.

Her eyes turned to also look at the Hogwarts’ Champion who was enjoying his day out. She contemplated the dare for a moment. Malfoy didn’t know her, and Cedric were well acquainted. She could use this to her advantage just like he had previously done with Krum. She had to laugh at his ridiculous offer, “And why would I do that for five- no, ten galleons?” Odds were that Cedric would most likely say no. But the gamble wasn’t if he said yes or no, it was if she dared put herself through that.

“If you’re lucky and he says yes, you get to go with Hogwarts’ second best.”

“Second best?” She laughed. If anything, Cedric was Hogwarts most eligible date to the Yule Ball. She could’ve bet that at least a dozen of girls had asked him already.

“However, if he says no,” He leaned in closer and carelessly tossed his unfinished green apple over his shoulder. “You’ll just have to settle for the best of the best,” he flashed her a self-important smile. “Who then? Krum?” She asked genuinely curious not aware she was she taking a stab at his swollen ego.

“Me. Saintday. I’m talking about me,” He said in an annoyed tone when he realized she wasn’t well aware he was Hogwarts finest. “Obviously.”

She gave him a funny look. There was no way. An unexpected feeling of nervousness flooded her stomach. She let out a edgy laugh completely taken aback by what he was suggesting. “Are you asking me to the Yule Ball?”

He stood awkwardly and let out a weak laugh and a dramatic scoff.

“All I’m saying is, to make up for your rejection, I’ll put myself through the martyrdom of escorting you to the ball,” He combed a hand though his hair. “I mean, since no one else will,” he just had to add with snide.

Of course, he was going to be a rude arse, even about this. She shot him a foul look and hit his arm harder than she intended to. As if she couldn’t find a date to the ball. “How gracious of you,” She drawled out sarcastically. “I didn’t know the great Draco Malfoy could be so generous with his time.”

She looked at him hard, with a cross look, “If you’re asking me just say so,” she dared him.

“I’m not,“ he spoke quickly in a defensive tone. She took a moment sizing him up and just what his true intentions were. Why couldn’t he just bloody admit it if he was asking her to the Ball?

“Make it twenty and you’ve got yourself a deal,” She stretched out a hand. “Deal,” Both shook on it. “And no-“ She pulled him in still holding onto his hand tightly. “I am not going to the Yule Ball with you.

With that she marched towards Cedric and the other Hufflepuff Sixth and Seventh Years. She stood before them putting on a brave face and combing her hair back as she appeared to be more confident.

Nel didn’t even want to go to the Yule Ball with Diggory or with Malfoy. Her narrow tunnel vision made her obsess over the Beauxbaton student. She had a feeling that Cedric would say no and then she would just take Malfoy’s money, blow him off and be twenty galleons richer. Who did the slimy git think he was? His words stung her just like Pansy’s had earlier ‘if you even manage to get a date for the ball.’ Maybe she wasn’t the most popular girl in school, or the most pleasant person in Slytherin House but she still wanted to be asked to go to the dance.

“Diggory,” She cleared her throat. “A word,” She pulled at her sweater’s neck hoping he wouldn’t note how bright her ears were.

His friends all hooted and howl at the request already expecting Elowen to be another girl shooting her shot at going to the ball with Cedric. Nearby bystanders ogled as the two walked to an empty spot in the courtyard. Even Daphne watched from a distance wondering just what had happened since her friend left her side.

Draco watched from underneath the oak tree’s comfortable shade with a smug smirk on his face. There was absolutely no way that Diggory would ever agree to go to the Yule Ball with Elowen. Of course, he had perfectly calculated the outcome of this gamble as he usually did.

He saw her say something to Cedric, her lips moving and body language shifting uncomfortably as she dropped the bomb. Diggory was silent for a moment before speaking.

With that the two walked away from each other.

Elowen walked back with flushed cheeks and her eyes wide in surprise. Draco couldn’t tell if the source of the color was from anger or embarrassment.

“I demand my twenty galleons,” She stuck a handout and looked at him angrily. Still wearing a smug smile Draco pulled out a coin pouch and handed it to her. “We’ll have a good time,” he said genuinely looking forward to the ball.

Eyes turned into slits she almost tossed the velvet coin purse back at him. She didn’t want to go to the ball with him, or with Cedric or with anybody else. This whole thing had been a stupid idea. One that wasn’t even worth twenty galleons.

Malfoy’s plan went down the drain with three simple words: “He said yes.” She said upset.

“You don’t look too happy about it,” He said dryly nothing how disappointed she seemed at the news.

“Of course not!” She snapped. “I didn’t want to go with him or with you! And now I have to go with him!” She screamed. “This is all your fault!” She accused him before retreating back to the inside of the castle. “And for the record!” She stood before again turning to give her a piece of her mind. “I don’t need you to be my pity date. I can get a date whenever I want and with whomever I want. If today wasn’t proof enough for you!” She spat angrily before finally leaving.

Draco tossed his head back and his hid face for a frustrated moment. How could he have majorly messed this up?

AN: *evil laughter*

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cowandcalf · 4 years ago

Text

Writer’s Month 2020 - To Find A Way

Prompt No.14 - Metamorphosis Part III

Chapter 1 - 8

Chapter 9

Danny has not thought this through. He stormed out of the apartment with a single goal to clear the situation. He needs to know what Steve has told his little girl. He knows Steve wouldn't just promise such a big thing if he didn't mean to deliver his end of the bargain. Danny knows this like it's branded into his bones. Steve's a warm-hearted and sincere soul. Danny has watched him interact with Mary. God, this man has love to give and he gives.

However, Danny still hears Grace's pleading voice. The yearning behind the words to go and see dolphins at Steve's house tears into Danny's soul. What if this isn't something that's going to happen. What then? He wants nothing more than to make her wish come true. But it's out of his hands. He needs Steve to fulfill his baby girl's dream.

Also on AO3

Danny's concentration gets pulled back on the road when the car bumps hard over stones or a rotten branch. Shit. It is night, and stupidly dark, and he drives like a love-drunken lunatic through fucking dense jungle to get to Steve. He's a bit ashamed of his intentions. There is no sense in lying to himself. He wants to see Steve again. As if he hasn't had a good chunk of the man's time during lunch. But the more Danny spends time with this mysterious guy the thirstier he gets. Danny drives up to Steve's secret garden under the pretext to talk to him about Grace. That's a big reason to skid over the pathetic road at night, caking his Camaro with mud but there's more to it. He can't fool himself. He wants more. So much more it scares him. And he knows Steve only for a little more than over a week. The intensity of the emotions racing through his veins makes his hands shake.

The tires work hard to get through the soaked soil on the dirt road. The jungle looks spooky with the darkness only lit by the bright cons of light. The rain drops constantly on the roof. Danny curses. He doesn't even know if Steve's up there. What if he spends the night at the beach house? God knows where that is. Danny grabs his cell. Fuck, no reception. He is one fine, stupid detective is what he is.

The shape of Steve's huge truck appears in the light beam. Danny throttles the engine and rolls gently onto the wide-open place that spreads out in front of Steve's 'flowers hop'. That word's a joke for what it hides in the backyard. It's the gate to a secret garden with layers as deep as the universe.

Danny pushes the car door close. "Steve?" He shouts into the night. The windows of the house are sparsely lit. Danny has no idea in what condition he might find Steve. Last time, he sneaked up on him with a drawn weapon. "STEVE? Yo, are you home? It's me, Danny!" He looks around but the darkness is too dense. He can't see a damn thing over in the scrubs a few feet from where he's standing. He stares right into a pitch-black hole. The clouded, rainy night swallows all the remaining light. The first rumble of thunder adds a dangerous and audacious touch to the atmosphere. It's a wild beauty and makes Danny think of Steve. Untamed and mysterious.

And jungle nights aren't silent and peaceful. In fact, it's loud with all the rustling, swooshing noises all around, quite apart from the fact that a bunch of wild animals seems to have a meeting somewhere close. The air is filled with insects despite the rain. Gah, the whirring and chirping isn't particularly reassuring either. The things you do for love. Danny scrubs with one hand over his face.

"Steve, are you home? Don't throw grenades, okay?" He knocks on the door. "It's Danny! I keep shouting my name until I'm sure you've noticed my presence." He starts pounding on the door. "Steve?"

Okay, again with the heartbeat racing. Danny feels like a teenager but there is also the rising worry if Steve's on the floor frozen in memories unable to snap out of it.

A new wave of distinct thunder rolls through the thick clouds and swallows most of the sound.

Danny presses down the door handle and the heavy wooden door clicks open. "Whoa, at least, I don't have to shoot the lock open." He murmurs to himself. "Steve! I'm coming in! It's me, Danny, the guy from lunchtime. Grace's father. STEVE?" He reaches the state where he keeps calling Steve's name ongoing.

The apartment is empty, meaning, Steve's not there but he must be around because there are hints, he's close. The back door is wide open. The couch is a pull-out bed. The sheets are rumpled, and several cushions lie on the floor. Danny turns his back on the portrayed privacy right in front of his eyes. The image of a sleeping Steve, a naked sleeping Steve, all mused hair and hoarse voice, is now burned on the inside of his eyelids. He suppresses a moan of want that threatens to escape over his lips. Sweet hell.

The small lamp on the floor next to the bed is lit. Soft music fills the air from a radio Danny can't see. He counts three coffee mugs staying around. And dirt. There's so much dirt on the floor. Like an inside dirt road leading out to the garden. The big old wooden table is scattered with empty crates. Some are filled with seedlings, some are empty. It's an organized chaos but still. "Steve? Hey, where are you? I'm coming out, stepping through the door to your garden in three seconds, okay?" Danny gets anxious. No word from Steve. Not a tiny speck of his clothes or his tattoos under golden skin. "Steve, I'm getting worried! If you do not show yourself in three seconds, I'll pull my gun and come searching for you!" Danny snaps the holster safety off and is about the reach for his gun when Steve bursts into the room.

"Danny! Jesus Christ! I hear you shouting for five minutes already. Didn't you hear me answering? I even screamed your name!" Steve's eyes are comically wide, and he talks so fast Danny wants to laugh. But he can't. What happened to Steve? How can someone look like this?

The thunder moves closer and the dull, heavy rumble vibrates in Danny's chest. "Why do you wear a headlight?" He shouts over to where Steve stands holding on to a create. Danny shields his eyes with a hand. "I can't see shit, Steve, take the light out of my face." Steve is caked from head to toe, caked with mud and wet. Danny stares. "What happened to you? This time you cannot make me believe you haven't been crawling through the jungle, or through your garden." He blurts. "Who looks like that? You covered in mud like you had fun rolling around in it. Don't tell me you miss the freaking insane training you had in BUD/S. I read about that Hellweek stuff. How do they call the mud wrestling exercises? Mudflats? Did you need a bonding moment with dirt?"

Steve hauls the create onto the large worktop next to the back door. "What are you talking about? Mudflats? What – I, no. Nothing like that." He switches off the headlight. "It's nice to see you, too, Danny." Steve smiles over to him. "And sorry to disappoint you again. No crawling through dark jungle patches, just taking care of my seedlings."

Danny nods and escapes into banter. Banter means shallow and safe water. Because this wild, dauntless man who looks like he took a mud-bath makes Danny want to fuck him six ways from Sunday. "Yeah, nice to see you too, Steve. I didn't hear you shouting my name." He clips the holster safety close and leans against the nearest furniture. "What's with the mud, huh? Are all people who do garden work that dirty?" Danny waves his hand and takes Steve's appearance in. His stomach swoops and smoldering lust crawls south and starts to fill his cock.

Steve chuckles. "Why do you even bother how I look like? I'm passionate, is all. I love to feel the soil in my hands. I have to get my seedlings into the ground." Steve can't stop smiling.

"You have to get your flowers into the ground – at night with a headlight – when a big ass thunderstorm rolls in. What happened to gardening by day?" Danny makes wide eyes at Steve and carefully lets the tension turn into a mad swarm of butterflies behind his belly button.

"Hmm?"

"You heard me the first time."

Steve mimics Danny's posture and crosses the arms over his massive chest. Danny pushes every decent thought in the back of his mind. He gets harder with every second he watches Steve's dirt-covered skin. The guy wears a tank top and the same old, threadbare jeans. His feet are black from standing in the mud.

"I had stuff to do. Places to be. Haven't planned to be back that late. That's the boring explanation for the night work. No extraordinary SEAL explanation except that I like to use the rain to water the seedlings once they're in the ground. Because once out in the open the young plants must be covered with water and mud profusely to protect the gentle baby-roots, so they can grow. Rain is easier, saves time."

Danny is mildly impressed. "And you've learned all that from your mother?"

"Yes, that and much more. I grow vegetables too. And I cook."

"Do you want me to throw confetti?"

Steve's laugh is infectious. "You don't look so happy about the thunder, Danny."

Danny tries not to twitch but the roaring thunder creeps closer. "I don't like the lightning that comes with the thunder and mostly there's driving rain in the middle of the storm. I don't like that either."

Steve pushes his butt off the table and reaches for the last crate. He studies Danny over his shoulder, his dirt-covered muscular shoulder where ink peeks through. How can unwashed skin be so damn sexy? "You won't be struck by lightning if that's what worries you. Too many trees, Danny. But the fact that you are here and the fact that there is a thunderstorm gathering tells me you need something from me. So, uhm did you miss me, Danny? Is that the reason you drop by that late? Or what can I do for you?"

Danny performs a helpless motion with one hand. Grace! Dolphins! Wow. Did he forget about why he came here in the first place? No. he did not, did he? Steve's like a freaking black hole. He sucks Danny's entire attention right up on the spot. "Well, I came for a special reason but that can wait. The talk can wait. And what if I missed you?"

It takes a split second for Steve to shut Danny out. It's like a blind gets pulled down behind his eyes. Danny watches the not-visible emotions race over Steve's face. He might be a master in hiding feelings but some seep through. Danny can't see them but he senses them with every fiber of his body. It's like his body hair has turned into an insane hyper-sensitive seismograph.

"You wanna get dirty?" Steve lifts the create and walks closer.

"What are you even asking?" Danny can't balance fast enough. The hard, hot image of Steve's large, rough hand wrapped around his cock knocks the wind right out of him.

"Are you afraid of the dark, Danny? Ready for some funky gardening? Guerilla gardening might be the right word for that. Hmm? Up for that?" Steve's voice is black velvet on Danny's skin.

There's so much hidden meaning behind the questions Steve's asking. Danny is overwhelmed. The sudden heat that blazes behind his chest and between his legs makes it hard to focus. Why can nothing happen in a moderate pace with this guy? Danny pretends to be dense as concrete. If the dull fire in Steve's eyes is a harbinger of what lies beneath Danny will burn with a wild cry on his lips. Holy shit.

Steve challenges Danny. And Goddamnit, challenge's fucking accepted. Danny steps forward and holds Steve's heavy gaze. "You think I'm a damn pussy."

"I might," dark voiced words setting Danny on fire.

"You think I'm a freaking putz because I don't like thunderstorms." Danny tugs the shirt up and rushes through the buttons to pop them open.

Steve leans in with the create pressed to his abs. "What the fuck are you doing, D?"

"That's my best shirt. I don't need to roll around in the dirt with my best shirt on." He tosses the crumpled piece of fabric over to Steve's bed. He doesn't miss. Claim announced.

"Are you fucking with me here, Detective Williams?" Steve growls with his head turned to where Danny's shirt has landed on his bed.

"Does it look like I'm that kind of guy?"

Steve breathes heavily with parted lips. "Nope."

Danny's hard on pulses in his briefs. "Good." He unclips his service weapon and his badge and puts both on the chair next to him. "Got a second headlight, big guy?" His nipples pucker instantly with the way Steve's eyes touch his skin. He toes his shoes off and bends down to pull his socks off, too. He wiggles his toes. He stands the sensual pain with what Steve's eyes carve into his chest.

"Right behind you," Steve's breath fans over his skin. He's so close. "Your pants will get wet and dirty."

Danny unbuckles his belt and pulls it through the straps with a sharp move. The belt buckle clatters when he lets it drop on the floor. "I'm not putting your baby plants in the ground stark naked."

Steve's crooked smile is lewd. "Let's head out then."

Steve gets rid of his tank top outside. The heavy rain pelts down on their bare backs. Danny's pants are soaked in seconds. The wet fabric clings to his thighs. The wet, rain-soaked soil is downright luscious. It's soft and kneeling in it, digging the toes into it fills Danny with a light joy. The rain is cold, but his skin is hot and fiery. It's the craziest thing he has ever done. "When have you become so wild?" He shouts and laughs.

"I don't know what that even means." Steve answers with a lightness to his voice that makes Danny want to lean over to taste the rain on his shoulder.

Steve takes Danny's hands in his and shows him how to drill a small hole with a digit. "Do it like that," he doesn't let go, "you make the holes and I put the seedlings in." Steve's full voice drowns out the thunder easily.

Danny watches their mud-covered hands how they work side by side lit by the small beam of light attached to their foreheads. Danny loses the feeling for time. A thing that seems to happen when he's in Steve's garden. They become a part of nature with the wind tearing at their wet hair and the constant flickering of lightning followed by a sound as if heaven cracks open. The storm is right above them. Steve's body position is relaxed, his movements are floating and beautiful, skilled, and calming. "Okay, that's it."

"Already?"

"Yeah, already." Steve is suddenly in his personal space. He switches off the lamp first before he pulls Danny's headlight off his head.

The darkness isn't so dark. The flickering light of the sky reveals the hunger on Steve's face. Everything fades away. Nothing matters but Steve, kneeling in the dirt, with the rain streaming down his ripped, muscular chest. Danny's eyes dart over to watch how Steve shuffles closer. His knees bump into Danny's. Danny catches Steve's ardent look and the slow move of his arm. Danny groans and leans into the rough grip when Steve wraps his dirt-covered hand around his neck.

Danny cups Steve's face and waits with a racing heart. Steve presses his lips to Danny's for a searing kiss. It's wet and slick, loaded with desire and want. Steve tastes of rain and hope. He pushes his tongue hard into Danny's mouth. Danny groans like he has waited a lifetime for this to happen. He holds Steve's head with both hands, fingers spread wide, and falls backward. He pulls Steve on top of him. Danny opens his lips to get as much of Steve's eager tongue into his mouth as possible. He drinks rain from Steve's lips. The guttural moans Steve pours into his mouth go straight to his straining cock.

Steve's weight presses him down. The wet soil is a strange sensation on his bare skin. The little stones sting, and leaves, and tiny twigs scratch. Danny wants more. The wet fabric of his pants hinders him to spread his legs, but Steve's big hands grab his knees and press them apart. The tear of material only makes Danny want to bite Steve. It makes him wild.

"Wrap your legs around me," Steve says between kisses.

Danny can't hear with the ongoing wind and the rain still pouring down on them. He smears mud over Steve's chest and bucks up into Steve's crotch. Danny's head falls back when his hard on rubs against Steve's bulge. "Oh, fuck."

Steve shuts him up with wild, biting kisses. He licks and sucks at Danny's lips and simultaneously pushes Danny deeper into the dirt. Steve rocks his hips and grinds down on Danny's hard cock. He shows him what he wants. Danny clings to him, hooks his legs up his hip, and crosses his ankles behind his back. He grunts into Steve's open mouth when he gets lifted from the ground into Steve's lap. This crazy guy hauls him up to walk with him over to the lanai. Danny bites along Steve's jawline and tightens the grip of his legs around Steve's waist. He grabs at Steve's pecs, runs his hands over broad shoulders and fans all his fingers through dark, wet hair.

Danny doesn't feel the jet of the shower. It's the same temperature as the rain. Steve washes the dirt from his hair with gentle moves. The water washes away the mud on their skin. Danny peels his pants off and steps out of them. He watches Steve do the same. He wraps his fingers around Steve's hard member and sucks one of Steve's nipples between his lips. He gasps into another round of blinding hot kisses. Without another word Steve yanks him back up. Arms as strong as steel are wrapped around Danny's waist. Steve seals his lips with his and carries him inside.

Steve throws Danny onto the pull-out bed and crawls over to box him in. He towers over him on all four. Steve's cock is a heavy weight between his legs. His gaze is like a whole new universe. And Danny drowns.

"Make me come, babe," Danny whispers.

Steve's bruising kiss is most welcome.

The back door is still wide open.

TBC

#writersmonth2020 #h50 8.14 #mcdanno #fic rec #mcdanno fic rec #ongoing story #prompt fill #this includes smut #mild smut #thank you for reading guys

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dearyams · 5 years ago

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a long day

@dazedbyeler: headcanon ; Will screaming into his pillow after Mike does something cute [x]

————————————

It was going to be a long day.

Not long as in the number of hours Will was up—no, he woke up pretty late for even a Saturday—or the fact that as the summer solstice approached, daylight technically lasted longer. It was going to be long as in mental exhaustion, though it wasn’t even really exhaustion for him. Was he stressed? No more than usual in most aspects. A lot more than usual for one in particular.

See, Will woke up late on a Saturday that had long been planned to be the day the Party started up Mike’s newest campaign. Mike even promised he wouldn’t be over too long at Hopper’s cabin to ensure that the four could spend the entire day in the basement tossing saving throws and laughing at Mike’s hilariously in-character role-played monsters and NPCs. Max was even going to stop by and watch—“Watch? You mean critique my voices as if I haven’t spent years crafting my creepy goblin voice,” Mike had whined the night before as he laid on the couch and tossed a grape into his mouth, only to choke on it and give Will a mild heart attack in the process. The point being: this Saturday was important for everyone and was planned to be the best Saturday in the entire year so far.

Despite his joy and overwhelming excitement at starting a new campaign with his friends, Will overslept. That got his friends worried, worried enough that Will woke up to Mike frantically knocking on his window and yelling for Will. “Don’t be dead, Byers, or I’ll bring you back to life and strangle you for it!” It was only testimony to the room’s thin walls that Will managed to hear Mike. The boy was obviously teasing—he couldn’t fight for his life and after Will beat his ass during an impromptu wrestling match five years back, he didn’t bother and left the rough housing to Dustin and Lucas—but even through sleep’s last languorous dregs, Will could hear the underlying concern that bleed in every word. That pure, unadulterated concern and the annoying rap of knuckles on glass that crept through his dream—a dream that left him red-faced and glaring at his wall in hopes that the lingering phantom touch from Mike’s hand in his would soon disappear—was enough disturbance to wake him.

Will turned over to face his window and stared. Mike was glaring at him. He was petulant as always with a pout on his lips and Will couldn’t help himself if his eyes found focus on those curved lips. He tried not to think about what that meant and let his gaze wander upwards. Mike’s freckled cheeks were pink and flushed from exertion. His eyes were bright as usual, carrying the stars night left behind when melting into day. His hair was messy in a wind-blow way since he was fresh off his bike ride to the Byers’ residence. Will let the guise of sleep allow him a few more seconds to stare and take in the beautiful sight before him. He had been dreaming about holding hands with Mike just a few minutes ago, being blushy and pressing his lips to those very same pink cheeks—oh.

Mike seemed to notice Will was actually staring at him and his hard glare loosened into a soft smile. He waved excitedly before pressing his palms up against the window. Will was mentally tossed back in time to a point before Mike was tall enough to even press against the window as he did. Back when the boy would press his nose to the cold plane and all Will could see was his bright brown eyes as he watched and waited for Will. In a melancholy way, Will missed those days, but he didn’t think about it for long as he also questioned why Mike hadn’t simply gone to the front door and barged into his room as he usually did.

Will slowly sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes before he yawned. He stretched his arms and then padded to the window to open it. Fresh air filtered through his room. Mike pulled back and then leaned on the window sill with an infectious grin. “Thought you’d never wake up, Sleeping Beauty,” he drawled, blinking when Will shoved a hand in his face to push him back. “Hey!”

“Don’t call me that unless you want me to call you Prince Charming.”

The implications in that statement went unsaid but surprisingly, instead of sneering and retching like Dustin might do, Mike flushed a bright red. Red was a good color on him, especially with late spring’s sun casting warm rays over his pale skin. “What?” he exclaimed before shaking his head so fast Will was worried he might injure his neck. “No. No, don’t do that. I’m teasing you, Will.” He looked at his watch and then tapped the screen in a poor attempt to change the subject. “It’s already, 1:30! What were you doing last night? I thought I went home pretty early so you could wake up on time today.”

Will frowned and tried to recall what he had done but he mostly remembered listening to a few songs with Jonathan after Mike left and then called it a night. His mind wandered back to the dream and he coughed into his fist in hopes to let that action cover up his blush. “I didn’t do much after you left.” he sent Mike a smirk. “I guess hanging out with you is draining me these days.”

It was gentle teasing just as much as Mike had done earlier, but Mike...he was really acting weird today. He stiffened and then pulled back from the window sill as he rubbed at his neck. “Oh. I, uh, I can come over less if you’d like. I don’t mean to be a bother.”

Will balked. “You’re not a bother.” He felt the insane urge to reach out and grab Mike’s hands but he was never brave enough for that. Sure, he could survive living in another dimension on his own for a week and he could beat an interdimensional shadow monster from taking over his mind for almost a year, but acting on whatever these romantic urges were? Hard pass. He couldn’t risk ruining what good he had with Mike, not after everything they’d been through together.

“Eh,” Mike shrugged and scuffed his shoes against the dirt. “If you say so.”

“I mean it, really,” Will leaned on his side of the window sill and looked up into wandering brown eyes. “You know you’re always welcome; Mom loves having you over anyway.”

“Mrs. Byers is great,” laughed Mike and his cheerful attitude came back with a quickness. Will wasn’t even sure if seeing Mike so sad had really happened. “And I guess you’re pretty great, too.”

Will rolled his eyes but when he focused back on Mike, he felt his next words lodge in his throat much like the grape Mike had almost died eating last night. Mike was...he was so handsome. Messy black hair curling at the edges, bright brown eyes echoing emotions that would never leave his mouth, pink cheeks, gentle smile on his curved lips and oh, oh, his voice—how it’d gotten deeper in the past few months and how just then, when he called Will great, it got a little deeper still and so gentle. Will didn’t know how to describe what it felt like to hear that voice directed at him. It was a warm blanket fresh out the dryer or maybe a toasty fire in the fireplace after spending hours in the cold. It was the loud cheers from the Party when they defeated the boss level monster in the campaign or the giggled whispers from his sleeping bag buddy when the Party gathered together for a weekend sleepover.

And then Will knew how to describe it because there was only ever going to be one way to describe the way Mike talked to him, the way Mike looked at him, the way Mike existed with him. That way was Mike being, well, Mike Wheeler. This boy here, with the crooked grin and the shy eyes and the pink cheeks and the stupid blue polo shirt stretched over his broadening shoulders and Will’s palpitating heart in his unknowing soft hands, was simply Mike Wheeler and that was enough to explain it all. He was so infuriatingly cute and Will didn’t know him to be any way but, even when he was in a cantankerous mood.

“I’ll come around front and say hi to your mom,” the boy declared firmly enough to snap Will from his dopey trance. Will leaned away from the window and nodded silently. “You can eat over at my place if you want. You know, so you don’t have to worry about stuffing your face in a rush now.”

“Okay,” was all Will could muster from his throat. He hoped he didn’t sound like a croaking sick man.

Mike cocked his head to the side with a puppy-like frown. So stupidly cute. “Are you okay? If you’re sick, you don’t have to worry about it. We can reschedule.”

“I’m fine; I’ll shower, get dressed, and meet you inside.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Mike grinned even wider and waved Will off with his fingers, an oddly shy but equally adorable little wave that had Will blinking as Mike grabbed his bike and strode away.

Will closed his window with a heavy sigh and then bit his bottom lip until he was sure the skin under his teeth turned white. He turned to his bed, plopped down onto it back first, and closed his eyes to calm his rapidly beating heart. Will’s brain kept replaying Mike’s little wave and his soft voice and his flushed cheeks and his cute head tilt and—

The brunette clenched his fists and turned to scream into his pillow, unable to keep his bubbling emotions inside any longer. He was going to die, positively and absolutely die, from Mike being this goddamn adorable without even trying. Did he know what he was doing to Will’s heart? Did he know Will turned to Halloween in ‘84 as means to appease himself when the nightmares got so bad? Did he know Will was weak to his stupid gangly charms in a manner no different from a moth always attracted to the light even if the light killed it? Did he know, did he know, did he know, should he know, should he know, should he—

No.

Will pulled his face from the pillow and then gripped it in his arms as his throat started to burn. Stupid. He tried to make this stop so many times. He screamed into his pillow as the days went by in hopes that once his throat got sore enough his body would stop associating Mike with this...this futile thing Will refused to put a name to even though he knew what he felt. And yet it had been months filled with muffled screams and harrowed sighs, lingering glances and internal yearning, and Mike was still cute and dorky and everything Will wanted in a...more-than-friend.

You mean boyfriend, his mind tratoriously provided.

Will blushed furiously and pulled the pillow back to his face for another muffled groan as he thought about Mike being his boyfriend. His dream would become reality and that was so far-fetched yet his foolish heart found it still attainable. When he heard Mike’s voice as he chatted with his mom, Will sat up and scrambled toward his dresser to grab clothes to hop into before sprinting down the hall toward the bathroom before he could get a glimpse at Mike. If he spotted Mike talking with his mom so easily like he usually did, like he belonged in this house conversing with Will’s mom as if she was his own mom, Will would either combust on the spot or immediately ask Mike to make it official and date him already.

When Will strode back to his room to toss his dirty clothes in the hamper, he spotted Mike laying on his stomach on the bed. The boy had his chin in his hands as he watched Will and then jumped to his feet with a sigh. “You ready to go?”

Will shoved at his shoulder. “Always, Wheeler.”

Mike shot him a bashful grin and right then and there, Will knew it was going to be a long day. A long day filled with the mental gymnastics he was going to have to pull to keep this secret under lock and key. A long day filled with stress brought by caring about Mike the way he did. A long day but a fun day because as Mike biked down a hill and whooped as the wind blew back his messy locks, Will couldn’t help but smile and cheer along with his best friend. Sure, once he biked back home, he’d probably think back on Mike’s soft nudges even though he wasn’t supposed to be giving special hints as DM, and equally soft smiles when Will got the hint and Dustin and Lucas playfully whined about Mike playing favorites, and when thinking about that Will would find himself face first in his pillow muffling his frustrated noises, but...it was worth it. His heart said that said the dream was attainable and Will wouldn’t let that fire die out.

Eventually, he’d be able to grab that same pillow, shove it in Mike’s face, and listen to Mike laugh before he pulled him in for a kiss.

#byler #byeler #mike wheeler #will byers #fluff #misc #drabble

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sindrafalcone · 5 years ago

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Inspired by THIS ask that @noonachronicles answered earlier today, here is the (oddly detailed) story of how I fell for my Ult. Bias... Choi Seunghyun.

Okay, first of all, I need you to understand that I was not in a good headspace when I found Bigbang. It was early 2016, around late January or early February, I think... I had been listening to Kpop off and on since 2014. My Youtube playlist consisted of only girl groups (Ladies Code, Rainbow, Bestie, Orange Caramel, Crayon Pop).

Either way, like I said, not in a good headspace. I've said it before & I'll say it again, Bigbang saved my life. I was at a point where I had no interest in anything & I was questioning what was the point of even being alive. And on really bad days I would use my playlist to try and cheer myself up. Which was what I was doing that day. I finished the music on the list, felt a bit better, but I was craving more.

So I looked over to the right in the “Recommended” section and saw this:

It intrigued me enough to click it. And that click changed my life...

(Keep in mind that I didn’t know their names, nor did I understand any of the language!)

At first I was hella confused by the owl and Jiyong on the throne with all that HAIR. I was thinking “What the fuck did I just click?” Then that first beat hit my ears through my headphones & once he started speaking, my brain jumped to attention. Still completely confused but fascinated.

Then there was the juxtaposition of the fire/Molotov cocktail & Taeyang being iced over, which I liked. I remember thinking, “Dang, that is a LOT of tattoos! I like dudes with tattoos!” (Also keep in mind that I had no idea that they were mostly fake.) The Mohawk kinda threw me off though... not really my style. But his voice was like having your ears caressed by silk, so I was into that. And I vividly remember thinking that he had gorgeous lips, very kissable.

All of a sudden we were back to Jiyong behind the visor, only I wasn't sure it was even the same guy because... ya' know, hair. Oh, wait... the other dude has a visor too... must be a theme. Okay...

Then we were cutting back and forth between Jiyong in different hair & outfits. I kid you not, there were a few moments there where I wondered if it was identical twins or something. I thought that might be a cool group concept, twins in the same group.

While my brain was trying to wrestle with that & trying to decide if Jiyong was one person or two (Can you even imagine... TWO Jiyong’s?!?), the voice of Choi Seunghyun hit my ears. Before I even saw him, I knew. I was in trouble. And then my eyes were blessed with this:

That very first zoom cut, I paused the damn video.

There was just too much to take in. The hair... the outfit... the fact that the man is in a damn picture frame like a piece of art... that chiseled jaw & smoky eye. And then I saw the hands... that massive ring on those long ass fingers of his. Most of you already know that I have a thing for hands. I would go so far as to call it a fetish. (I blame my husband, he has massive hands that are just... amazing.)

I unpaused because I needed to hear more of this blue haired mans voice. It was like a siren song calling me... 'come closer'. The more I watched, the more I noticed that I adored. Especially his adorably crooked bottom teeth! OMG, the teeth!!!

At that point, I got a break when it switched back to Taeyang and the whole “Monk” thing. To be honest, I thought that was kinda neat. But my brain was still pretty much mush at this point. Like, I barely registered “Oh, look... a shirtless guy, ripped as hell, chained to the wall!” Normally that would get my attention a lot more than it did. Oh, hey... more visors AND a high note!

Then there was that chorus again, where I had this stream of consciousness: ‘Damn... that's stupidly catchy! Oh, Jesus... he's back with the damn fur coat on. Stupid, sexy... wait, when does My Man get a visor. Shit! Did I just think of him as “My Man”? I guess I did... I don't even know his name! Oh, god... eyeliner is gonna be the death of me. Wait... who is that guy? (Seungri) I haven't seen him yet... how many of these gorgeous men are there in this group? Why the hell haven't I been listening to guy groups? I've been missing out! Oh, There is my man in a visor. Nope... don't like it. It obscures his beautiful face too much. Wait.... did he just say “Boomshakalaka?” No... there's no way... damn he did.... and I loved it. What the fuck is this song doing to me???’

At this point I am actually squirming in arousal at the look Seunghyun is giving the camera. It's like he's peering directly at me. “Come here, darling. Get to know me... you know you want more...” And I'm thinking 'Hell yes I want more. I need to know EVERYTHING about this man.’

(And, I'll be totally honest, my mind was SO blown away by T.O.P at this point that I totally glossed over Seungri too. I vaguely remember thinking that he had nice eyes and his voice was different from the others in a good way. But I just couldn't focus on him, I was too distracted.)

‘Oh, wait... my man is back again! Yay! In a different fur this time & a blue suit? Nice. Oh...what the fuck is up with those eyebrows? Yeah... not a fan of that. Wait... holy shit, he has GLOVES! Fuck me...’

Then I kinda got distracted by Jiyongs weird lipstick for a sec, which helped me calm down a little from the gloves. And I was curious about Taeyangs metal arm & why they suddenly decided to give Daesung clothes.

But then Seunghyun was back to focus on in semi-normal clothes and.... glasses? Oh, fuck... they gave him glasses. Just hit ALL my fucking buttons while you're at it why don't you?!? Let's see: Deep voice - check Nice hands - check Long legs- check Suit King - check Cute teeth - check Epic jawline - check Piercing eyes - check Gloves - check Slightly nerdy look with Glasses - check

It was like they made this one especially for me...

That's it... I'm screwed. He's mine now... or am I his? I don't even know any more. I have sold my soul to this man and I don't even know his name!!!

Guys at t his point, I was a complete newbie. I had no concept of “bais” or “eras” or “fanchants”. No clue. But I learned quickly. And the more I learned about Choi Seunghyun, the deeper I fell for him. But this... this is where I totally, irrevocably fell in love:

youtube

#bigbang #fantastic baby #choi seunghyun #t.o.p bigbang #my bias #my descent into madness #lol

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imperium-marcel · 5 years ago

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Still In The Dark | 5/5/20

Axel looked at the clock on the nightstand, it was perilously close to 7am and he hadn’t slept a wink. He’d tried, mind you. Tossing and turning for hours before giving up and settling for watching the sun slowly start to peak out of his bedroom window. He sighed and slipped out of the covers, feeling much smaller and unhappier than usually.

He’d been prone to melancholy most of his life, being a quiet unassuming child growing up with a larger than life father. Wrestling had brought him out of his shell in his late teens and for long periods of time he’d been the social butterfly he’d always remembered envying as a child. Now, he felt himself slipping back into the bad habits of his childhood; closing down, isolating himself from people and wallowing in the pain he had thought he’d let go off a long time ago.

The argument with Kelly had been stupid, not really sure why he’d even started that but still feeling stubborn enough not to insist on making it right with her. He’d apologize later, he always did but right now, the idea of revisiting that conversation was giving him a headache.

Turning the kettle on in the kitchen, he opened the balcony door adjacent to the kitchen and sat down waiting for the water boil. It was going to be another beautiful, sunny day in Orlando but that thought didn’t fill him with any kind of excitement. Every day was beautiful, to the point of it losing all meaning to him. Glumly, he thought how much he’d prefer the tart cold breeze of his childhood home in West Germany. Memories flooded him of playing football on the streets of Pinneberg, dreaming of a career playing for his father’s chosen football team of Hamburger SV, wearing their white and red home kit with pride.

The click of the kettle brought him out of his reverie and for a few moments afterwards, he busied himself by making a cup of tea and mechanically fixing himself protein pancakes. Settling back on the balcony with his food, he ate but didn’t particularly enjoy it so he ended up abandoning his pancakes four bites in. Maybe he was becoming unwell, that would explain the lethargy, the sleeplessness and bad appetite. He sighed again, louder this time. He needed to get a grip, this was ridiculous and his father would be so ashamed of him if the elder Barthel could only see him now.

He toyed with the idea of calling Walter, it was past noon in Germany after all. Though, calling him was dangerous too. If anyone knew him inside and out, it was the big Austrian. They’d traveled a long road together and he didn’t trust himself to not break would Walter call him out on his odd behavior. His mom would just fuss and he didn’t want to worry her; especially since there was nothing she could do to better his mood. Besides, worrying her right now would be a selfish thing to do since there was nothing technically wrong. He wasn’t injured, didn’t appear to be sick and judging by the trajectory of his career had taken, that was going better than ever. It was only his stupid brain creating problems when there clearly weren’t any.

A self-destructive part of him wondered if getting stupidly drunk before noon was acceptable during quarantine. He wasn’t needed at work until tomorrow and who would really know if he got sloshed in his underwear? He could simply close his phone and pretend no one else existed for the day. It wasn’t like they could show up behind his door, demanding answers. Well, Fabian could technically walk in with the spare key Axel had given him but he wouldn’t. Or would he?

He flung himself back into bed without enthusiasm, smushing his face in the pillow and feeling the urge to scream. Again. He didn’t dare, not at this hour. His brain suddenly conjured up an image of his father ruffling his hair and telling him how proud of his only son he was. He could almost still smell his aftershave and that thought brought angry tears into his eyes. This felt like his body was betraying him, which made him even more irrationally angry. He didn’t want to think of his dad right now as Axel’s skin felt hot and like it was two times too small for him, feeling the urge to scratch and claw it, hoping for a release.

Suddenly, his phone beeped somewhere close to his head. Without even realizing it, he flung it somewhere and he heard a loud crack as it crashed on the floor. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He sighed again, feeling too drained to get up and examine what had happened to it. Good thing he wasn’t particularly attached to that phone. Maybe now he could sleep, as he had truly cut himself off from the outside world. At least until he had to go buy another phone. He closed his eyes warily and soon found himself drifting into restless sleep, images of his father appearing again behind his closed eyelids but this time, he didn’t fight them off.

#tw mental health #tw parental death #tw depression #| &. still in the dark | self-para

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dingletragedy · 5 years ago

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okay soph you are now obliged to tell us all of your robron at glasto ideas/headcanons PLEASE

hello right this is my shit!!! i have been to many festivals over the years but never glasto so i apologies for any misjudgment

so glastonbury is the type of place you go with a big group of people; family and friends, teenagers and grandparents. there’s 8 of them in the end: aaron, robert, liv, belle, matty, pete, amy and ellis. they get one of those big tents with 4 separating bedrooms and of course everyone moans about having to sleep so close to the disgustingly in love couple that aaron and robert are.

it’s usually robert who’s the organised one but glastonbury is aaron’s dream so he buys an actual notepad and writes down all the times of all the acts he wants to see. he even works out how to get from each stage in the quickest time and robert just falls even more in love with him. aaron’s excitement is infectious.

somehow it turns into some kind of i’m a celeb set up and they all get given jobs. pete and ellis are in charge of collecting the water because it’s fucking boiling. liv and belle are in charge of keeping the tent tidy, at robert’s request. and robert, well he’s in charge of the cooking.

he cooks breakfast on the first morning, bacon sarnies all round. he adds a mountain of ketchup to aaron’s, but he doesn't stop there, no he has to go and draw a stupid love heart in red sauce on the paper plate and the sounds of gagging fill the circle.

the first act the go and see is two door cinema club, the whole bunch of them together and it’s wonderful. robert stops complaining about the heat the second the band play the first riff and aaron’s sunburnt face lights up the whole of worthy farm.

as the day goes on they end up losing the rest of the gang and take the opportunity to sneak back off to the tent. they’ve got this whole 8-man tent to themselves for an hour and let’s just say aaron is glad that robert packed the supplies. the cheeky shit.

robert finds himself enjoying his time much more than he expected. especially when he’s got the view of the gorgeous man that is brandon flowers on the stage and the thighs of his beautiful husband wrapped around his shoulders. if he died in this moment, he’d die happy.

robert loves the killers, but he loves aaron’s thigs even more.

and yeah, they deffo find somewhere to sneak of to for a high-on-life blowjob.

one day they end up getting stupidly drunk in the middle of the day and stumble across a tent doing free face paints. robert ends up with a bi pride flag painted on his left cheek and aaron with a gay-pride one on his right. they drag liv there later, and she totally rocks the ace flag on her forehead.

they go to see tom odell play one lunchtime and it’s gorgeous. he plays grow old with me at the very end of the set and it leaves them both with tears in their eyes. it’s probably too soft for a british festival but robert takes aaron’s face in his hands and pecks kisses all over him, before diving in and kissing him senseless.

aaron literally wrestles people to get to the front of liam gallagher and yeah he probably deserves the elbow in the wrists and harsh words from the wanna-be lad but that doesn’t stop robert’s over-protective streak rearing up. he calls the lad a twat and dares him to touch his husband again. then he proceeds to grab a shocked aaron’s hand and sweet-talk their way to the front row.

it’s all worth it for the way aaron sings his little heart out.

they lose the rest of the gang on the last night and also manage to lose their bloody tent. instead of attempting to contact anyone they stop off for some pizza and feed it to each other because they’re drunk and in love.

ok i could go on and on but i best stop there

#i think about this a lot #robron

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flowerflamestars · 6 years ago

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Ivy Moon: Part 1

Nesta Archeron had grave dirt under her nails.

This was a usual occurrence. As a death blessed witch in a family of talents, being called upon to speak to the newly dead was her most regular and least favorite job. But as any good witch would tell you, no dead needed to rise to speak.

And dead werewolves certainly didn’t reappear out of the sky and happy to be found.

Or naked as a full moon night.

Nesta winced at the thought and resolutely kept her eyes up, locked on a tawny shoulder she had to tilt her head to reach. The werewolf was thanking her again, unabashed at his nudity and smiling brightly.

“-I don’t even know where I was, so”-

“You were dead,” Nesta interrupted flatly, and this time he seemed to hear her. Beautiful green eyes with wolf amber bubbling up inside them met hers in confusion, somehow even prettier than the rest of him. Gods, this whole damned night was giving her a headache. “Or at least, your brothers thought you were.”

She was going to have words with Rhys when this was done. What the hell had he dragged her into this time?

The wolf in front of her was still staring, chest heaving for all that he had run out of words. It was a physical effort not to stare back, chiseled golden muscle moving tangibly close to her face. Stupid werewolf strength.

Nesta threw out a hand, pointing behind her impossible companion.

“That,” she said sharply, frustration bleeding into her tone, “is your grave. We never found your body, but Rhys filled a casket in case it allowed me to call your spirit.” A grave of oak and amber and jade, for a full-blooded wolf with a talent for magic. If he focused hard enough, Nesta wouldn’t have been surprised if he could still smell the sorrow of his brothers here.

Wide eyed, Cassian pivoted to see the headstone.

Nesta actually bit her lip at the muscled back and long, bare, sculpted stretch that put right in her sight. Fucking werewolves.

Quickly, hoping he was too distressed to scent her, Nesta stepped forward to stand beside him. The witching hour had come and gone, the forest that hid this burial ground still and quiet. Even the wind rustled oaks were silent, leaving her with nothing but the growing moon and a man who most definitely was not dead.

She could feel the warmth of his eyes on her again. “You were trying to call my spirit?” Cassian asked at a low rumble, not giving her space to reply. “You’re Feyre’s sister, aren’t you?”

Nesta nodded, before tilting her head back to gaze dimly at the trees. Cassian swore.

“Fuck,” He repeated, dark hair falling into his face as he reached for her crossed arms. Out of the corner of her eye, it was impossible not to note the moonlight gleaming over Cassian’s bare skin. “Nesta Archeron, please tell me I did not crawl out of that grave in front of you.”

To her horror, Nesta snorted a laugh before she could stop herself.

“You were never in the grave,” She said, “You’re not even dirty. I don’t know what the hell curse you’re under, but I guarantee it isn’t effecting your memory.”

She saw the interest flicker across his face, mouth twisting into a grin much more flirtatious than rueful. “You could look closer,” Cassian offered, “Who knows where grave dirt could hide. A witches touch reveals all truth, doesn’t it?”

No- no, that was it.

Nesta turned on her heel and began walking away without a word, the crisp crunch of leaves under her boots endlessly satisfying. She was cold and tired, and had nearly been struck by lightening. Lightening out of which had appeared the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen, naked and perfect and grinning at her like sin itself.

A gorgeous man who was, of course, the supposedly dead brother of the underworld mob boss her baby sister was shacking up with.

She was done. Done with the night and this freezing forest. She wanted a cup of coffee and some gods damned answers, both of which could be found at home.

Cassian caught up to her ground eating stride easily, moving with perfect grace in the dark. He seemed as unaffected by the low light as he was by his total nudity and the biting cold, content to silently lope by her side as Nesta stomped through the trees to her car.

It was only after the third time he reached out to catch her, righting Nesta’s stumble over something she couldn’t see that he broke the silence.

“Rhys and Az really think I’m dead?” Cassian asked, voice low as he gently tugged her upright.

Nesta didn’t particularly want to think about what kind of mess they were all in until she had more information. A curse that powerful, that undetectable? Something old and bloody made that magic.

But she couldn’t deny the brother’s sorrow had been real, a devastation that reverberated through the Archeron’s deep and true. She’d come to the funeral, stood beside a white knuckled Azriel, ready to fight to world to bring his brother home.

She’d never met Cassian, but she was intimately acquainted with the hole his absence had left in his pack and her family.

“You went missing a month ago,” Nesta murmured, matching his tone. “I tried to track your magic, Elain scryed for you, but there was nothing. And then Rhys told us you were dead.”

They’re reached the edge of the forest, moonlight bright enough for Nesta to track the shaking hand Cassian raked through his hair. Dark curls sprang back with a levity that made her hands itch. So she found herself saying, voice stupidly soft, “I’m taking you to them, everyone’s out at our house.”

Cassian stopped walking.

Nesta was tugged to a stop too, the hand he’d used to steady her still wrapped securely around her wrist. When she opened her mouth and looked up to protest however, she found Cassian looking down at her, a softer twin of his initial smile on his lips.

“Sorry about earlier,” Cassian said. “I say really stupid things when I’m nervous, Az calls it fuckboy mode.”

It took physical effort not to smile back at that devastatingly handsome face. Nesta tilted her head instead. “Fuckboy sounds about right. Aren’t you a couple centuries too old to lack brain to mouth filter?”

He huffed a laugh. “Beautiful women bringing me back to life is a singular weakness.”

Nesta’s eyebrows went higher, unable to resist a smirk. “You were never dead.”

“I don’t know,” Cassian murmured, grin grown wide and crooked, “Pretty sure my heart stopped when I saw you, sweetheart.”

His grip was still a lovely, gentle pressure on her wrist. Nesta jerked it out of his grasp, she didn’t need him knowing how fast her heart was going. And if he didn’t know, she could perfectly well pretend it wasn't happening. Nesta wouldn’t be admitting to the burst of laughter his words dragged from her either.

Gravel crunched as she rocked back, away from the tangible heat of his body and toward the hedgerows that hid her car. Warm eyes followed her, gone wolf bright amber and gold between one blink and the next.

He followed her, eyebrows crinkling as she wrestled with the tie of her coat while she walked. Finally, centuries since she’d seen it last, Nesta came to a stop in front of her car to shrug off her long green jacket. Keys fished out, she balled the garment and tossed it at Cassian.

He caught it easily, arm staying raised in confusion.

Nesta crossed her cold arms with huff. Gods, she couldn’t wait for coffee. “You’re not getting in my car like that.”

“What?” Cassian started, and stopped, her coat held out in front of him. “Oh god, I didn’t even think- we’re in the woods, and its close enough I can feel the moon.” He fumbled the fabric around his hips in haste, pointedly looking away from her. “I am so, so sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

He sounded so horrified Nesta snapped back, “I am not uncomfortable.”

The flare of light as Nesta unlocked the car was enough for her to actually see the moment he breathed in her scent. Cassians head tilted in question, mortification slammed its way through her chest as his nostrils flared, catching the interest and attraction, the hint of arousal in the air with those wolves senses.

Fucking werewolves.

And then Cassian blushed.

Nesta wrenched her eyes away, and threw the car into reverse the second he’d settled inside. The road was dark and empty, she’d focus on that. She would not think about the color blooming on his olive cheeks, the half seconds gaze that left her sure that when Cassian flushed the color went down and down and down.

The radio crackled to life in static, the charmed car responding to her tension. Cassian reached to silence it before she could, wincing.

“Sorry,” He apologized again, as her fingers brushed over his arm in slower reflex. “Werewolf hearing.”

Nesta put her hand back on the steering wheel and resolutely did not think about acres of bare tawny skin. She had other problems to deal with, like what could be possibly be powerful enough to fool Rhys’ senses.

She hadn’t been happy to find out her sister was engaged to the man who watched over the east coasts supernatural underworld with an iron fist. In fact, she’d set a small forest fire before her temper was in check. It wasn’t just his work - of protection and acquisition, which he was damn good at- but her baby sister just had to go and fall in love with the only dhampir alive.

Amren had spent half an hour putting out the fire, because she couldn’t stop laughing long enough to focus.

Centuries old, with blood that was poison to vampires, magic that repulsed the fae, and bone that would once have been a witch relic, Rhysand was deadly. Born of a soul bond between a werewolf and a vampire, he had the instincts of a hunter- and he’d use every single one to destroy those who stood against his family.

Nesta was lucky enough to be counted among that small number.

It also helped her estimation of him that he loved Feyre like the world was ending.

Old, powerful, and ruthless as he was, he’d been sure his brother was dead and gone. What enemy was there that could actually fool him? And whose magic had she inadvertently broken through?

Like he couldn’t stand the swell of silence, like he knew what she was thinking, Cassian began to speak. “You said curse, earlier. Why do you think that’s what happened?”

Nesta shrugged. “You disappeared,” She ticked off the points on her finger, a list fully formed in her head. “Untraceable by magic, or scent. You have no memories of what happened, which is classic cursework. And you came back completely intact when whatever it was broke.”

Cassian tapped lightly at the foggy window, eyes flitting over her face. “I don’t know anything about death magic, so humor me. How do you know that you didn’t accidentally bring me back from the dead?”

Nesta sighed.

“Okay, first of all? I’m not a necromancer.” Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him nodding. “There hasn’t been one in at least a thousand years, and by all accounts they were never human to start with. Someone coming back,” She waved a frustrated hand in his direction, “In their original body, power and mind intact? It doesn’t happen.”

It couldn’t happen, and Nesta had been trying to explain this nuance since she was a teenager first sought out for her prodigious gifts.

“But you can speak to the dead?” Cassian asked. “Feyre explained it to us like Elain was good at life magic and you with the dead, with her skills somewhere in between. But I know it has to be more than that, because I tried to get sense of your power earlier- and honestly, I couldn’t tell where it started or ended.”

“Rude,” Nesta teased, before she could stop herself. That crooked smile was on Cassian’s face again, streetlights as they cut through town on the way to her families sprawling home painting him in hazy gold. Wolf eyes still gazed back at her.

“I’m death blessed,” She said, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel before she carefully continued. “I keep the dead and the dead keep me.”

A crack of laughter escaped Cassian, making her jump. The rich sound didn’t last long, but it was enough to raise the temperature in the car by several degrees. “Do you know wolves say that too?” Amusement tangled in his words, “You keep the pack and the pack keeps you.”

Oddly enough, that made her feel braver. “I’ve got one foot in life and one in the beyond. I can talk to the dead, but that also means I can kill almost anything. Makes cursework come easy, any kind of banishment or destruction really. I’m very, very good with fire.”

In the brief, surreal moment of stopping at a red light in the predawn hours, Cassian caught her gaze. “Of course you’re good with fire.” It was a low murmur she barely heard, but felt.

The car lurched forward, racing away from civilization and down onto the long road her grandmother had commissioned. Nesta kept speaking, unwilling to break the moment, but just as eager to hide away from it. “Elain has earth and wind, and Feyre water.”

“You’re a triumvirate,” Cassian breathed.

Something coiled against Nesta’s senses, warm as magic. Not fear, but awe. “That’s what our mother called us.” Death, Life, Creation. Their grandmother had older words for it- Crone, Maiden, Mother. Born not in the straightforward order of natural law, but in reverse, witches to practice magic not under the sun, but in the hidden and bright spaces of the night sky.

Thick trees and foggy hills rapidly gave way as Nesta drove recklessly fast toward the ordered wildness of Elains flower farm, wards a comforting hum as Nesta came to a stop beside a field of roses. Cassian followed her out of the car, stopping only when she reached for his hand.

“Sweetheart,” He drawled, and the dark, honeyed sound of his voice had her reaching for the magic faster, a quick flash of power slashing at both their palms. Nesta laced their fingers together so that blood raced with blood, and pulled Cassian forward. He let her, bleeding and curious, lead him into a veil of magic.

If Nesta didn’t know any better, she’d swear that blush was back on his cheeks.

You make him nervous, her brain murmured to her. The attraction was so absolute it felt like an enchantment itself, heady and out of control in her exhausted state.

Cassian let out a low whistle, looking around as though he could see the magic hanging thick in the air. “That’s some boundary spell.”

“It’s a ward,” Nesta corrected, “The first time one of us has to let you in personally, and then walk you all the way in of our own power.”

Cassian shook his head in something like respect and turned her hand in his, not relinquishing his hold when Nesta pulled back. Under the blood starting to dry tacky and dark, his palm was already healed. Amber eyes flitting to hers, Cassian pushed out a gentle thread of power, healing her in the space between heartbeats.

It would have been smart to step back.

This night was already too fraught and complicated to muddle further, but for a moment- for long minutes under the light of the waxing moon, Nesta let herself close her eyes and chase the feel of that power.

It came by increments, the sleek slide of sunny warmth against her senses. Cassian’s magic felt like the wildness of every full moon night, overlaid with the comforting safety of the sun on bare skin. Instinct and longing and power run free, tempered by a home that could never be lost.

She felt as he let her in further, wolves senses overtaking her own. How Cassian could smell the heady scent of Elain’s enchanted roses like a fog, how close his wolf was to surface, ready to lean against her side. Nesta felt how keenly Cassian sensed the touch her hand cupped in his, how some wild untamed part of him wanted to lick the blood from her palm to find her skin perfect and beautiful beneath it.

Nesta’s eyes snapped open with shiver.

This was not the time, and not the place- and- and this was Rhysand’s brother, for gods sake. This was a bad idea. But Nesta knew, shoving away the overwhelming feel of his magic, that she’d want to see more. Stupid, gorgeous werewolf.

Eyes with nothing human left in them were locked on her face.

Nesta straightened her spine. She was not doing this right now. “Ready for a family reunion?”

—

The second lightening struck and Cassian appeared, Nesta had decided not to warn anyone she was bringing him home.

To ensure they believed her and stop anyone from panicking, of course- not because she wanted a small, happy revenge for almost being killed by his magical reappearance, of course.

But Nesta had underestimated the sheer length of the walk across the estate to her families house. And how long she could stand the tangible temptation of a naked werewolf who kept blushing at her, somehow abashed and cocky all at once.

A werewolf who was looking at her from under a furrowed brow, eager to get back to his family and confused as to why they had stopped in a birch grove to make a phone call.

Amren answered on the second ring, voice just irritated enough to let Nesta know her friend was worried about her. “Please tell me baby werewolf had a very specific revenge plan to tell you, and that’s why you’ve been gone all night.”

“Not as such,” Nesta drawled, watching Cassian mouth baby werewolf indignantly. “Can you go steal a pair of pants from Rhys’ drawer in Feyre’s bedroom and meet me in the spell garden?’

Cassian waved hand in front of her before speaking, as though he didn’t want to be rude. “I’m taller than Rhys,” he said, “If Az is around, stealing the change of clothes he keeps in the trunk of his car would work better.”

“Is that?”- The strange wind noise that Nesta knew enough to assume was the sound of Amren moving at supernatural speed cut into her best friends words. “Nesta, what the burning hell? Am I hearing Rhysand Jr Jr?”

“My name is Cassian,” He growled back, Nesta an unnecessary intermediary between two shape shifters with super hearing. She jabbed him in the ribs before stepping away, not that it would help. He’d hear every word they both said.

“We’re by the birches,” Nesta muttered, drawing the the heel of her boot through the thick grass.

“Fuck,” Replied Amren, eloquently. “I’m on my way.”

Sliding her phone back into her pocket, Nesta turned to find Cassian leaning against a thin tree truck, hands brushing over the carved marks on a branch above his head. Luminously golden eyes flitted up to follow her movement, every line in of his body held a little too casual to be real.

“These aren’t magic,” He noted, the question plain.

Nesta crossed her arms with a huff. For so clearly wanting to get to his brothers, maybe he didn’t want to think about the circumstance either. “They’re practice, from when I was small,” She admitted. “I had to learn to burn the sigils without lighting the trees on fire.”

It was one of her clearest memories of grandmother, before Genevieve had passed, leaving the estate and it’s safe haven to her eldest granddaughter. A place where no one could touch Nesta if she didn’t want them, where plants bloomed at her passage instead of crumbling in death.

A place where the dead couldn’t speak to her and the living couldn’t harm her.

Cassian’s ever present smile was dancing over his features. “I heard you started a Siberian forest fire.”

It was like a challenge, her magic wanted to reach out at the sound of his voice. “You would too,” Nesta quipped, giving into the fire in her blood, “If your baby sister agreed to marry a dhampir she’d known for two weeks.”

If Cassian was surprised at fire bursting to life in the air, a hundred molten balls of light, he didn’t show it. He tilted his head back to see them waft through the air, grinning like the wolf he was. Sharp jawed and no less rugged for delight, he reached a hand out toward one, fingers skating close to flame before Nesta willed it away.

“You’ll get burnt,” She said, smirking.

The crushing beauty of his wolf bright gaze settled on her once again, taking in her face like she were magic too. A heat that had nothing to do with fire or power filled the air between them.

“I’d like,” Cassian said carefully, stepped away from the tree, “To see how close I can get.”

Nesta wondered if were he listening to her heartbeat. She could feel the pulse in her throat, the blush starting over her collar bones. As Cassian walked toward her, all unashamed hunters grace, Nesta wanted nothing more than to stride forward and meet him half way.

Until her best friends voice cut through the dark.

“Jesus fucking christ,” Amren swore, appearing from thin air. “How are you alive, wolf man?”

Cassian actually jumped, teeth bared, as a petite dark hair woman emerged to his left. He reined in the reaction fast enough to impress Nesta, face rueful as he caught the clothes Amren threw at him. “I know even less than you do, actually.”

“That, you’ll find, is always true.” Amren tsked, walking to Nesta’s side. “No go put on pants.”

Which a final look at Nesta, Cassian did as he was told and walked further into the grove. It took all of a breath for Amren to easily pull Nesta in the opposite direction, sniffing at the air for signs of injury.

“Are you okay?” She demanded, coming to a stop beside an ivy covered trellis. “What the hell happened out there?”

Nesta started pulling pins from her hair, exhaustion making her sag as she finally relaxed for the first time since she’d walked into that forest. “Have you ever heard of anyone appearing out of a lightening strike?”

Amren worried at a ring on her left hand, a confection of ruby and diamond someone with less keen eyes might assume was costume jewelry. Nesta had been present when Amren picked it up in payment from a Russian prince, part of the royal dowries worth of jewelry they’d been paid to break the curses on an old palace.

“Someone without a drop of fae blood?” She raised her eyebrows, disbelief such a perfect mirror of what Nesta had been feeling that she wanted to laugh. She’d been awake long enough now that she was starting to feel punchy with it.

“A curse,” Nesta said, what they were both thinking.

Amren hummed in agreement. “That explains why you both reek of hellebore.” She pointed an accusing finger, this one crowned with three overlapping golden rings, “It doesn’t explain why you smell like blood and lust and wolf. He’s a damn sight better than Rhysand, but I had no idea werewolves were your type after all.”

Nesta rolled her eyes, and waved her still bloody hand. “I had to key him into the wards,” she said, ignoring everything else.

“Mhmm,” Amren replied, her disbelief cut off by Cassian striding out of the trees to them, saving Nesta from her fate.

He walked around Amren to Nesta’s side like he belonged there, bare feet silent. Amren didn’t try to hide her snigger.

“Alright,” Nesta sighed, “Cassian the not dead brother, meet Amren, the other member of our family.”

Amren waited until Cassian had grasped her hand in greeting before flashing fully silver eyes, sharp smile going fanged. If she’d expected intimidation, what she got instead was the bright laugh Nesta was beginning to realize was very, very Cassian.

“You’re the dream dragon!” He burst out, unaffected by Amrens snarl at his words. Nesta tried and failed to hide a laugh behind her hand.

Her best friend huffed and began walking without them, grumbling. “You let one human see you in the eighties, and its all jokes.” Even in heels and with a much shorter stride, Nesta had to scramble to catch up.

“You should have eaten him,” Nesta told her, knowing Amren wasn’t truly offended as she linked an arm threw hers.

“I should have,” She agreed, and then turned her head to call back to the wolf following at Nesta’s heels. “You ever call me that again, baby wolf, and I’ll eat you too. Even canines taste good fire roasted.”

Nesta swore she heard Cassian laugh again.

Reckless, but some buried deep part of her quite liked the fearlessness. Cassian was no more afraid of Amren than he was of Nesta.

Together the three of them rejoined the long, winding gravel road that led to the heart of the estate. Neither shifter commented as they slowed their pace to match Nesta’s determined, but tired steps. Here, in her home, she could let herself be exhausted.

Past gardens that had provided generations with magical plants, beyond the glass greenhouses where Elain grew flowers from other worlds, through guardian oaks that lit with their passage from pools of alchemic moonlight Feyre had devised; Nesta led them home, her every step guarded by a wolf at her back.

—-

Azriel took one look at his younger brother- alive, breathing, wearing his stolen sweater and lupine grin- and silently collapsed like every string that held him together was cut. The breath that rattled from Cassian was audible even to Nesta before he sprang up the steps of the Archerons' porch, tackling his brother the rest of the way down to the wood floor.

The weathered boards groaned in protest, hiding from Nesta whatever Cassian was saying in a low voice.

Inaudible to her, but not to their older brother inside.

Rhysand slammed through the doorway like they were under attack, purple eyes wide. He froze at the sight before him for several heartbeats, a long, long time for someone with vampire reflexes.

And then, just like that, Rhys had thrown himself down to the floor too. All three brothers laughing and crying, a tangle of muscled limbs as they wrestled with one another. Scenting their pack- their small wolf family- alive and unharmed.

If Nesta allowed herself a sharp, happy smile before she turned to go around the house to the back door, Amren didn’t mention it.

—

Nesta Archeron was the most beautiful person Cassian had ever seen.

Feyre had crashed into his life like the little sister he’d never asked for, a vampire on her tail and a determination to do absolutely nothing about it, because the gallery show she was getting ready for was that much more important.

He’d seen her run out of gas and charm her car with an illegal, completely dark energy spell to get it going again.

He was protective of her and loved her, but looking at Nesta’s eyes, the exact same shade and shape, was something else entirely.

Cassian had been joking when he’d told Nesta his heart stopped when he saw her. But in reality, it seemed like a distinct possibility. If he were dead, or if this were a dream it would have made more sense- how absolutely fascinating the witch who’d found him in woods was.

Not just beautiful- though she was sharply gorgeous and so utterly perfect that he ached to touch her- but smart and strong, with clever eyes and magic that lit up his senses like a supernova. His wolf hadn’t ceased clawing to surface yet, so eager to cherish and protect.

This was not normal.

Cassian knew damn well what was happening, but he couldn’t let himself think the words. Not here in her kitchen, listening to her and her dragon friend debate what could have happened to him.

Not here with both his brothers, who could probably smell the emotion welling inside him. Azriel was already smirking, tracking the ever shrinking space between where Nesta sat, perched on a counter, and Cassian.

He was so, so fucked.

And lucky, he knew. Lucky beyond measure to have found a mate, the person his every cell was made for- to love, to protect, to care for. To a wolf like Cassian, it was the greatest stroke of fate imaginable.

But it was also a fucking disaster, because Nesta was a witch.

Cassian couldn’t imagine there was a good way to convey to anyone not a werewolf that he’d known all of ten hours and met standing naked on his own grave, that he’d love her until the day he died.

With a sigh that had Azriel grinning at him, light in his dark eyes that made Cassian want to get into the sort of brawl they hadn’t indulged in since they were teenagers, Cassian let himself casually drift until he was leaning no more than a foot from Nesta.

“What I don’t understand,” Nesta was saying, eyes narrow on Rhys, “Is why you were completely positive he was dead in the first place.”

That had the other Archeron sister Cassian had finally been able to meet looking up as well. “Yes,” Elain murmured airily, blonde brows high as she poured hot chocolate with the same intensity as Cassian might use in knife fight. “What exactly did you not tell us before you insisted my sister, summon a dead wolf under a nearly full moon, a week before Samhain?”

If Rhys were capable of coloring, he would have under the perfect censure of that tone.

Instead, he shot a weary glance at Azriel, who only dimpled back at him, the plea for help ignored. “The pack bond went dead. Cassian was gone.”

Purple eyes flitted over Cassian, love and concern in each warm breath he took. He couldn’t imagine what that would feel like- the bond of family and pack inside him as vital as his lungs or ribs.

Amren made a snickering, scathing noise into her glass of whiskey.

Gaping in her frustration, Nesta only shook her head, empty coffee cup clinking down next to her as she crossed her arms. “Are you kidding me?”

Slowly, hoping not to be noticed, Cassian plucked up her cup.

Nesta had been drinking cup after cup since they’d come into the house, seemingly untouched by the caffeine. It tangled in her scent- coffee and chocolate, blood on her skin- like something bittersweet he hadn’t known well enough to crave.

Silently, Cassian stepped away to refill it for her again. This kitchen, this whole place, was like a fairytale of witchcraft. Pale stone floors and aged beautiful wood, there was nowhere that didn’t reek of magic. It was all around them- blood wards on the building and land, plants blooming in the sisters wake, elemental charms and light spells and the sisters themselves; so powerful together in this place that made them that Cassian’s wolf was finally pushed down.

Halfway through stirring in the two sugars that Nesta preferred and Cassian had scented carefully to guess, Elain shoved a second cup into his free hand.

“Chocolate for life,” She said, cheerful and sharp all at once. “Welcome back to the land of the living, and to the family, Cassian.”

He stared first at the perfect swirl of whipped cream and then at her face, watching him carefully. Welcome to the family? Cassian knew one of Feyre’s sisters had a touch of foresight, but gods help him, he didn’t remember which one. “Thank you,” He settled on saying, taking a sip.

Dark, rich chocolate melted on his tongue as Elain’s face softened. She patted him on the shoulder. “We really are glad you’re not dead, you know.” Abruptly, she clapped her hands together, the sound lost in the rising tone of Rhys and Nesta’s argument. “Now, give me Nesta’s cup. If you really want to get on her good side, you need whipped cream.”

Blinking, he handed it over.

In Feyre’s stories, Elain was gentleness made manifest: baking cakes, making world renowned perfume, bringing Feyre back magic materials from her business trips to France. Cassian was learning fast that might be true for the much younger sister of the family, but to the rest of the world, Elain was just as terrifying as Nesta.

“Rhysand,” Nesta was snarling, as much a dragon as Cassian would have expected of Amren, “Just because you’re more than a wolf doesn’t change how curses fundamentally work.”

Elain handed Cassian back the mug with a sly smile before joining Azriel at the table.

“You’re giving us a list,” Nesta went on, jabbing a fire makers hand toward his brother. “Of every single person you’ve pissed off in at least the last century who might have a connection to Seelie magic.”

Cassian returned the cup to precisely where Nesta had set it down, unprepared for her to startle and meet his gaze. Wordlessly, he pressed it into her hand. Pale eyes still blazing, something softened around her mouth.

“Thank you,” Nesta said lightly. And then she smiled.

And Cassian was lost.

It was only a small smile, a quirk of full pink lips, but he’d caused it. Amren caught the look on his face, safe from Nesta’s gaze as she was busy glaring at Rhys over the rim of her coffee, and snorted so hard smoke and sparks came out into the air.

—

Some exhausting hours later, Azriel found Cassian watching the sunrise from the Archerons front porch.

“Amren owes me a hundred dollars,” His brother said in greeting, crossing his arms to lean beside Cassian. Before them, mist was rising through trees and grass, the dawn light silvered and pink.

Cassian raised his eyebrows in question. Azriels easy, knowing smile sliced across his face.

“She bet me if you two met, Nesta would sooner rip off your balls than ever bare her throat,” He said, bumping his shoulder into Cassian. “I guess neither of them know you’re not quite that sort of wolf. Yet.”

Cassian wasn’t proud of it, but he groaned.

“She made a joke, last night, about Rhys and Feyre getting engaged after two weeks. And they’re not even mates.” He shook his head, unruly curls falling in his face. Cassian raked them back with a growl.

“Oh, she’s going to eat you alive,” Azriel agreed, cheerfully.

“Fuck, I hope so,” Cassian said. “I had god damn wolf eyes the entire time I was alone with her, probably could have transformed right there without the moon at all.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair again, words a tide overflowing. “She smells like open skies and bloody, deadly magic and the best sex ever. I honestly want to listen to her talk about curses and magic and work for the next century, just so I can learn how her brain works.”

Azriel guffawed, the traitor, watching the moment Cassian’s thoughts caught up with his mouth and he gaped in horror.

“Elain got you good,” His older brother said, still laughing as he clapped Cassian on the shoulder. “Truth potion in the chocolate. Welcome to being vetted by the Archeron sisters, baby brother.”

Cassian threw off his hand with a huff.

“But really,” Az went on, visibly fighting his mirth, “Did you not notice you’d somehow managed to scent her on the way here?”

He opened his mouth to deny it, because he wasn’t that much a prick- he’d just met Nesta, it didn’t matter that she was it for him, he didn’t have any claim on her. But- in the woods, steadying her as she walked, catching her when she fell.

Her wrists, her elbow, even her neck as he’d pulled a leaf from her hair. Bright moon take him, Cassian had gone for her pulse points without even realizing it. It even made sense if he was thinking about it rationally.

From the moment he appeared, his wolf had been right on the surface. Cassian hadn’t been focused on anything but Nesta and safety, the moon intoxicating above them. Awareness of himself, of the rest of the world, hadn’t trickled back to him until they’re emerged from the trees.

Of course he’d made an utter ass of himself.

Light streaked across fields and hills, birds beginning to break up the silence. He could smell the disarming sweetness of enchanted flowers in the distance, blood and salt for the power on the land. But also something that he wanted to just call wildness- elemental magic, harnessed by witches with old blood who belonged to a wolf pack, guarded by a dragon.

This whole place was a dream made real, and Cassian wanted terribly to belong to it.

Cassian’s face must have been pitiable. “I bet Amren,” Azriel told him, smug even in his reassurance, “That the two of you would get along like a house on fire.”

@bon-bon-salvatore @strangeenemy @sannelovesreading @maddieimhot @ladyvanserra @rhysand-darling @empress-ofbloodshed @highfaenesta @marianaftm @illyrianinterrasen @tntwme @the-smoldering-illyrian-beauty @jahelyden @sjmasstrash @rairrai @rhysanoodle @a-trifling-matter @eastside-divebar @happy-smiling-things @missanniewhimsy @abillionlittlepieces @poisonous00 @macomafastraash @sunsummoner @vampwitchel @symwinter @acotarfanfic @rapunzel1523 @the-regal-warrior @wolffrising @tswaney17 @they-call-me-cuatro @queenofillea1 @neverlandoftimespacefuckery

#this got so long in edits I you're getting it in two parts!#part two on original release date #can you tell its the most self indulgent thing I've ever written? YES #Cassian to Cassian all of part one:#Fuck she's perfect #I'll just learn everything I can about her #and try not to flirt like an ass #and be there for her completely #and hope ONE DAY she looks at me the way I look at her #meanwhile #Nesta to Nesta #Oh no #GUESS I JUST HAVE TO SLEEP WITH HIM #nessian #feysand #witch nesta #werewolf cassian

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