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resetmypatientviolence · 6 years

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Ménage à Trois (Drake x MC x Liam) [NSFW Alphabet]

It’s still Thirsty Thursday here, but it might be Frisky Friday for some of you... but here, at least... is the Drake x Jaela x Liam NSFW Alphabet. I’m warning you now: this is pure FILTH and it you don’t have nsfw or long post blocked and don’t wish to see this, please do so. Jaela’s just living the best life in this world, y’all.

Pairing: Drake x Jaela x Liam / Drake x Liam (yep, I went there)

Rating: NSFW

Warnings: Language; Pure fucking smut after the cut; most turned into mini-drabbles, but I don’t think you’ll mind.

Word Count: ... 5, 539. This is why it’s taken so damn long. Settle in.

** Adding tagging @boneandfur and @decisso for TRR Appreciation week since the tags are being wonky!

A= Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

She’d never tell either of them, but Liam’s definitely the better cuddler and draws a bath for her, even if it’s 2am and they’re just ready to pass out in each others arms. Though, there’s something about Drake and the way he whispers in her ear the moments after he comes that leaves her breathless, craving for more, even if he falls asleep shortly after, Jaela curled against his side after cleaning up.

Though… they can all agree they love the laughter after a ménage à trois, Drake and Liam’s hands resting on her body between them, caressing her, even after the intense lovemaking, both spoiling her, until they fall asleep, all tangled up.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Liam and Drake both love their dicks—both because of that face Jaela makes when she comes, and she can say the same for them. “How the fuck did I get so lucky?”

“Because,” Liam says, tilting her chin up, smirking and wiping her lips with his thumb while Drake’s nails drag along her back, Jaela shuddering as he pounds into her. “You learned how to share.”

To say that she didn’t have any idea of what would happen the first time they all slept together would be a lie. She knew she’d be treated like a goddess, and that she was. Drake loves her ass, and it all started after one night of too much whiskey and wine, Jaela on Drake’s lap, rough hands squeezing it, trailing soft kisses on his second favorite part of her, her neck. Something about how she throws her head back when she laughs, or when him… or Liam… kiss her there.

Liam wasn’t exactly jealous, watching Drake and Jaela on the chair next to the bonfire, the light bouncing off the Washington woods—and their bodies—perfectly. But… he downed the last of his whiskey. Her tits looks amazing in that shirt, one button undone enough to flash that black lacy bra he loved, too. And he was drunk. So…, why shouldn’t he give it a shot? Turns out, the moment he touched her chest, fingers grazing over her stiff nipple, that was enough for her to pull him into a kiss—only for a moment—before looking between the two of them, all three of their eyes alight with something… new.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically…)

Coming in their mouth when they eat her out, or when she rides their face, is her absolute favorite way to come. There’s so much power in how Drake or Liam hold her closer, murmuring how great she tastes, tasting herself on their tongue shortly after.

The boys, of course, have a favorite place to cum—and then their seconds. Naturally, coming in her is preferable, condom until they all aptly handled the matter of birth control—especially after that one time—but they both have their second favorites, in case they can’t, at least, not at first. Liam loves coming on her tits, and Drake in her mouth, both always locking eyes with her when they do.

But she fucking loves it when they come at nearly the same time, in or on her. And Drake and Liam do too.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Maybe that first threesome—oh god she still gets warm thinking about it—wasn’t exactly spontaneous. “Abdi… can I tell you something?” he whispers, finger tracing circles on her arm, naked bodies intertwined on their bed.

“Of course,” Jaela replies, smiling up at him, pushing aside hair from his forehead. Outside, there’s a distant howl, moonlight peeking through the tall pines. He shifts, taking a deep breath. Jaela props herself up, eyebrows furrowing. “You know you can tell me anything, Drake. Remember, that’s one of our rules: honesty.”

He nods, clicking his tongue. “Well… okay. I… I might have gotten off to hearing you and Liam… more than once.” A beat. “And it took so much willpower not join you two.”

Her eyes widen—but only for a moment, lips curling into a grin. “You know… I wouldn’t have minded.” Drake nearly sputters, pulling her back to him.

“What?!”

Jaela nods, hand trailing down his chest. Like her and Liam haven’t thought it? Like she hasn’t wanted it since well… since they got used to this? “Get a little whiskey into Liam, and get him to watch us, and I can bet we’ll make that happen. Tomorrow?” Drake can only nod, kissing her and rolling on top of her in response, ready for round two.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Being a former Prince and King had its perks, and thus, Liam extremely experienced with women. Drake is too, reaping more than just a place to live, by being the Prince’s best friend. They competed for and shared women—separately—until Jaela came around, stealing their hearts and bodies with just a look. And they make sure she knows all of their tricks… yet still manage to have something up their sleeve.

Jaela too, had her fair share of men. Some hookups, and a handful of relationships that never went anywhere in New York. Though, being poly was a new thing for her, even though Drake and Liam eased her into it. Hell, threesomes were new for her and not for them… though, Drake and Liam laughed that of the threesomes they had, it was surprising that they weren’t involved in one together back in Cordonia… and both wondered why they hadn’t before, gazes lingering on each the first time they touched.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying.)

She loves riding them, Liam or Drake holding her close and whispering sweet—or dirty as all hell--- nothings into her ear. But god she loves it when they take control and push her against a wall, bend her over, or just pin her down, sometimes looking up at both of them, grinning until one kisses her and the other lowers his mouth to her body, fire kisses heading down to her hips, legs on their shoulders before he dives in.

Liam, surprise surprise, loves being dominant with any position that allows him the control, controlling Jaela or Drake’s pleasure—in a sense, he loses all control when he comes, hips meeting theirs, lips on each others names but yet, he feels like the King he was, seeing how they writhe under his touch. Though, he doesn’t mind being the one under their control, their spell, really, but it has its time and place.

“Jaela, my Queen, I love you…”

“Hmm… but you’re no King…” She giggles, nipping his ear, rolling her hips, Liam gripping them tight, eyes flashing, more heat pooling in her stomach. Oh, that look. How far could she go? “Just a commo—” And in a flash, Liam pins her on the bed, holding her wrists time.

“I think I should tie you up for such blasphemy.”

“Whatever punishment fits the bill… my King.”

Drake, on the other hand, doesn’t mind being submissive to Jaela or Liam’s whims (course, they’re left with plenty of love marks when he’s in control) and loves looking into her eyes and holding Jaela close, whether if she’s on top or not. It’s also fucking hot looking into Liam’s eyes, too, when they three of them fuck, one behind Jaela and the other in front. Or, well, when she’s away and he and Liam are both a little drunk, or not, there’s something about getting lost in his eyes, too.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

After everything they’ve been through, and while there’s so much laughter and joy after they have sex, all three are serious in bed. There’s some goofiness, like the first threesome, all three getting used to each others motions as one, but the order of goofiness—or seriousness, goes as this, is determined around breakfast one snowy morning after a night of lovemaking, first her and Liam… but Drake joined in when he got home from work.

“I can’t believe you laughed when I nearly tripped trying to get to you, Abdi.” Jaela snickers, buttering her toast. It was a sight, Drake barely able to contain himself once he came in the room, Liam’s nod a signal for him to join—if the Statue of Liberty key chain turned outward on their door wasn’t signal enough—almost falling out of his pants.

“So? It was funny!”

“To be fair, Jaela,” Liam says, shaking his protein shake, eyebrow raised. “We were, moments before, quite serious—you had tears, dear.” Jaela rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah… okay, I like to laugh here and there, you sometimes, do, Liam, and Drake…” Jaela and Liam both set their sights on him and he flushes, shifting in the chair.

“Uh…”

“Goes without saying, you serious marshmallow,” Jaela snickers, leaning over and kissing his cheek.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Liam’s well-groomed if not nearly bare, fucking loving feeling all of Jaela or how her mouth feels on him. Drake’s groomed, but sometimes if he’s busy, he’ll forget and be a natural, not that Jaela—or Liam—minds either way. They just love him for him. Jaela mixes it up, honestly, because she busy too but their faces when she is bare always makes her night—and always means she’s about to get no sleep, whether with one or both.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Even in the roughest of nights, there’s always an element of intimacy that starts in the living room—or out in the woods, or well, anywhere really. The small touches, the kisses that begin at the mouth and wander without a hurry…. The in the moment, holding each other tight no matter what, making the other feel loved.

Jaela, once more, wouldn’t say this to the other, but Drake has a certain form of intimacy that takes her breath away, how he looks at her. Was it because she was gone with Liam, vanished without a trace, until she contacted him? Or something else? Thinking he’s second best, even when, finally, they’re both equal in her eyes?

That’s not to say Liam isn’t intimate, god he is, by the way he moves and takes control. How he caresses a jaw as he thrusts from behind, fingers winding into hair and pulling—but never with enough force to hurt. Just enough to remind them who’s is in charge.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Drake was ashamed, at first, when he did get off to Liam and Jaela’s sounds of lovemaking. Not his fault the first he listened in, they nearly knocked over a chair in the kitchen before retreating to their room and he had to investigate and… well, it was hot, hearing the woman he shares making those sounds.

As much as Liam loves being teased by Jaela, he (or Drake, of course, one of them, ideally) just wants to be the one making her feel like that. Not that he doesn’t mind catching her, pulling her into a kiss, kissing her fingers, or anything but….

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Jaela didn’t call him King Kinky for nothing, when they were in Cordonia. Or out of it, for that matter. Liam and Jaela racked up quite a few kinks: public and outdoor sex for starters, then temperature roleplaying, light bondage… to name a few. Drake never told them that it hurt him, before they found the happy balance they needed, to see the ropes and ties still around their bedposts. Part of the sacrifice, he guessed.

Little did he know he’d be happy to see those months later, and even happier to be tied up with them. First, Jaela taking control—before that breath of temptation spilling over into reality. “Fuck, Jaela—”

“Did I say you could talk?” She purrs, sliding a finger across his lips, pupils dilated as she rides him, nails digging into his chest. Drake gulps and shakes his head, hickies on his neck. She smirks, rising off of him. He opens his mouth in protest, straining against the silk tie, but is silenced, Jaela moving and riding his face, her pussy tasting so fucking good. “That’s better,” she says, gripping his hair and shutting her eyes.

Of course, the best thrill for Liam comes when he has control of them both, both submitting to him and his whims. He’s big into edging, watching them soar to the highest of highs—but not getting that release until he lets them, whether from him or with each other, so long as he can see when he’s dominate. Sometimes, they’re tied next to each other, sneaking glances, fingertips brushing as he kisses up Jaela’s body, but not leaving Drake without something to moan about, both begging for more.

Though, working with Drake at the most intimate level… that was a thrill all on its own, both working to deny, but only to bring Jaela the greatest of pleasures. “Please, Drake—”

“Drake,” Liam says, and Drake looks up from his assigned task: eating her out. Liam squeezes her breasts, kissing her neck. “Remember what I told her about begging?” He nods, removing his mouth, standing up but letting his hand fall between her thighs.

Jaela throws her head back in frustration, groaning. “But—”

Liam tightens the silk around her wrists behind her back and pinches a nipple, eyes locking with Drake, both dark with desire, smirks on their lips. Drake steps back from the edge of the bed. “No buts. Knees, now.”

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Liam and Jaela? Oh god, anywhere and everywhere, really. He can’t pick a favorite, because the high of the thrill—even if they’re in the bed—blocks out everything but his and her pleasure, bodies locked together, smiles on their lips and each other. That’s all that matters. Though, in Miami with her, it was fucking hot to do it on their balcony, ocean spread out all before them, the people dots below.

Drake’s a simply guy, and he just loves picking Jaela up, legs straddled around him, and carrying her right to the bed to make love to her, pressing her against the mattress, sheets tangled up between them. Though, outside has a special place in his heart, hands over hers as she braced against the tree, pine and spring and dirt and her scent filling his nostrils and sending him into overdrive, birds flying away from the noise.

Drake and Liam are weak in the knees for their shower, but they think Jaela doesn’t know. She got off work early, letting down her hair, ready for a shower. “Drake? Liam?” she called, rubbing her eyes. The house was quiet, no surprise at this time of night (and god, she’d kill them if they let the kids stay up late again), except for the shower. Liam’s bed was empty, and so was Drake’s. She paused, glancing around the hallway. Not like their house was small, nor was it big… but where the hell were they?

She approached the master bath—maybe one was taking one in the guest bathroom, too? Hand on the handle, she paused, as new sound breaking through the sound of water. Moans. Loud ones, too. Then, a tumbling of a shampoo bottle—followed by Drake’s and Liam’s all too familiar, groans when they came. Jaela smirked, eyebrows raised. So that’s how come her bottles were always out of order.

When together? Well, that is the bed, much to Drake’s delight. There’s something private and personal and complicated—in all the right ways—when they have a threesome and having it be anywhere else but their home seems… wrong. The townspeople never questioned the two rings on Jaela’s hands, assuming one was a family heirloom (which it was, in a way, from Drake’s grandmother) but bringing their ménage à trois outside of their bedroom, or home, would be… wrong, an unspoken agreement between them the moment Drake kissed her lips and Liam pulled down her jeans, trailing his hands up to slide off her panties before she fell onto hers and Liam’s—no, their, bed.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Honestly, the better question is what doesn’t get them going.

No, seriously.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

The sky’s the limit, and they’ll indulge each others fantasies either one on one, or if they all agree to it, but they have a few NO’s: sadomasochism, anything that draws blood, whipping, and jealously. That’s the biggest one: no jealously. If those feelings arise… then they work it out, however they can.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Jaela’s a spoiled woman. And she can’t wipe the smirk off of her face at the stupid PTO meetings, thinking that a half hour before Liam went down on her right after she put the brownies into tubberware… and it was her night with Drake tonight. “Jaela, what’s your recipe for the brownies again?”

“Oh uh… you know, the usual things?”

And she’s pulled out of her head again, back to the politics of school and drama and avoiding the pointed looks of too many Mary-Sue’s in this small town thinking it was a little odd that Drake was living with them a single man… and that one of her three definitely has his nose, but she never addressed that.

As for Jaela, well, she’s more than willing to drop to her knees at anytime, but they always beat her out for the gift of receiving. Drake, generally, prefers to give and just wants to bury his cock in her, usually, even if he does love coming in her mouth…. Liam is more of a giver, liking to wake her up in the morning with his head between her thighs, but he fucking loves her blowjobs. Liam and Jaela both find it sexy when he’s commanding, hand gripping the back of her hair while she takes all of him in, looking up and never breaking eye contact until he comes, Jaela smirking as his eyes flutter, head rolling back, and letting out that moan she loves so much.

Commanding Liam is gone and replaced with the tender one, asking if that was too much. Jaela wipes her lips and he shudders, holding her close. “It’s never too much, Liam,” she whispers. “I love it,” she pauses, tracing his jaw, eyes brightening. “Though… I would like to try something… if Drake agrees.”

Liam raises his eyebrow, matching her expression. “Pray tell, love.”

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

They’ve gotten their times nailed down to an art form, really. Working around the kid’s schedules is one thing, combined with their different work schedules, but they’re masters of knowing how long things are going to take, depending, of course.

Public is always quick, even if Liam wants it to go on longer. Drake can stay out in the woods for an hour with Jaela. Jaela pretends to not notice their long, ahem, separate showers. But the threesomes? Well, that’s setting up the candles, and exploring each others bodies with care, salt and sweat and heat beneath their lips, not matter how rough it is.

“There’s always times to savor you, love,” Liam says, tracing lines down her curves on one side, Drake on the other, kissing her neck. She needs to get to the fucking bake sale, she didn’t mind playing betty homemaker to keep gossip away, but goddamn, how could she leave them?

“The bake sale though?”

Drake chuckles, turning her cheek, looking deep into her eyes, the intensity from all those years ago still there, even with a few fine wrinkles. Liam’s hand, fingers nimble, run down her body and settle on her clit, rubbing circles, Drake keeping her face turned to him. He takes her lower lip between his teeth, and she shudders in pleasure. “Fuck the bake sale,” he whispers. “Fuck me instead.”

But Liam inserts two fingers into her, her answer lost on Drake’s tongue.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Jaela’s a fan of quickies, and Drake has to roll his eyes when Liam and Jaela disappear in public for ten minutes at a time. “You know,” he hisses when they sit back down in the theatre seat, her hair disheveled. He smooth down a side, smirking, despite his tone. “This isn’t a ball where you can sneak into the closet and pretend your guards don’t notice.”

But Jaela grips Liam’s hand tight, eyes lighting up with the screen at the memory of Liam pressing her against the stall and fucking her senseless, holding her up, muffling their sounds with their lips on each other, fast and hurried. Somebody coughed when they left the stall next to them, but they didn’t care. “The women’s bathroom worked quite well,” she whispers, sliding another hand on Drake’s thigh, squeezing his shaft through the jeans. Liam snickers as Drake shifts, grasping hers, locking eyes. “Maybe next time we can try it?”

Drake gulps, but she sees the blush and flash of desire in the movie light. And indeed, that stall again proved useful, only this time Drake’s hands cupped her breasts through her shirt as he took her from behind, teeth nipping her ear. Another cough, too.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Of fucking course. Jaela thinks fucking in the woods is risky enough, always convinced a bear is going to come out—but her and Drake have done nothing more than scare a few deer and birds. But, anything outside of their NO’s has been tried, thought of, a regular feature, or is on the list of things to do.

Jaela’s current want to do risk?

Fuck at that damn Mary’s house. She’s the one that look at her like she’s a slut when Drake comes around to events—like his child’s soccer game, supporting his and Liam’s—like any father would do. She’s also the one that commented one child looked so peculiar from the others. She should have slapped her there, but instead…

“I got it!” she says grinning between the two. “Now, I don’t care who, but she has this parent-meeting or whatever coming up next month. One of you are coming with me—” They both pale. “And you’re going to fuck me senseless on her newly renovated bathroom counter she won’t shut up about.” Liam’s eyebrows perk up, and Drake’s do too, but she senses his hesitance. She knows him too well.

Jaela approaches and Drake leans back on the couch before she straddles his waist, pressing into him. Drake grits his teeth. “Okay… I’m listening….”

“And I really don’t care if she hears. She can’t insult our child—our children, our life—without facing the consequences. So, anybody in?”

A month later, Drake holds her close, both panting, the gleaming light from the newly renovated bathroom also too much, but all Jaela can focus on is his thrusts, slow and drawn out, hand on the glass. Her nails dig into his back, trying to holding in a cry—but letting out the moan, pulsing as the orgasm spreads throughout her shaking body.

Oh, it’s worth the looks.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

“Fucking A Liam, she’s already came twice from you, I think she’ll sleep just fine tonight…” Drake groans, burying his head in the pillow. He just wants sleep and him and Jaela are still going at it, though, she looks tired too. Drake glances at the clock—it’s almost four and he has work at eight. He could have gone to his room… but something about curling up next to them after a night like tonight was worth the sleepless nights.

“Just a… god, Jaela,” he says as he comes, kissing Jaela before collapsing next to Drake, Jaela chuckling to herself, looking at the two perfect men in her life, skin on skin. Her hand floats over Liam’s body, and he pulls her close, chin on her head. “You’re beautiful.”

“Ditto,” Drake says, and then drifts off. Jaela takes in Liam’s scent, Drake’s not far behind. Oh, how she’d never get tired of nights like these.

Jaela whispers against his chest, “I’m so happy,” before she falls asleep, only to be waken by Drake getting up for work, Liam pulling him close for a moment before Drake comes to her, kissing her cheek, then shoulder goodbye.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Drake doesn’t own any, he doesn’t care for them. He’d much rather fuck them with him and only him, taking pleasure that only he can make them feel.

Liam used to share the same sentiments as Drake, until Jaela introduced him to first her vibrator, and how fucking sexy it was when she used it on herself as she gave him head. Like, hell. “Fuck, Jaela… that’s hot.” She stops for a moment, lips against the tip of his cock, the breeze of the Atlantic blowing across their faces, high on their balcony, happy to have found a place where they could finally relax and enjoy their escape.

“I thought you told me you were the only one to make my cum from now on?” Liam smirks, dragging a finger down her lips, parting them again.

“We’ve only begun the night, my Queen. Now, continue.”

So, he has a small collection that only him and Jaela use, tucked away, Drake never getting curious as to what goes on those nights, honestly.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Jaela thought she teased bad in Cordonia, separately drawing them in and out with a flick of her wrist or the longing glance out of the corner of her eye.

Oh, how she proved them—and herself—wrong the moment her and Drake finally caved and she had not one, but two, pairs eyes filled with lust on her when she bent over, making sure they saw the red thong. It was something about an audience that upped her teasing game, just waiting till one of them would cave—thought, it was the best when Drake and Liam would nod, then end the game with one at each set of lips.

Drake doesn’t mind teasing, he liked it more in Cordonia, if he was being honest. Something about pretending to merely be just their friend in Washington made it hard to grab her ass or whisper in her ear everything he’d like to do to her in the grocery story. He didn’t want to attention of the nosey locals, nor did he want their kids to think that it was wrong, what they were doing. So, he lets Abdi to the teasing (except when they’re in bed together, Drake confessing everything he wants to do with her, drawing each stroke, lick, suck, or bite out until she’s begging to come over and over).

If Jaela plays hard, so does Liam. Touching her, whispering in her ear, promising all the positions they can do in a timespan of a PTO meeting, in the closet… yet, only leaving her wet and him hard, Jaela tearing off his clothes—and she literally made a tear once—the moment they get home, teasing done and the real game beginning.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

There was a reason why Drake couldn’t help but get off to Liam and Jaela, you know. Between their moaning and dirty talk, could anybody blame him, really?

Drake, however, is pretty quiet, preferring to listen to how he makes them feel over his own voice, contained within his throat and only being brought out here and there—sending chills through Jaela and Liam when he does make loud, guttural sounds because that usually means they’re in the middle of something intense, special, and only between them.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Jalea bites her lip, leaning back against the pillows, arms propping herself up. Drake and Liam stare at each other, and the tension—the nerves—in the room twists her stomach, just watching them, one hand on her and the other on each others arms. She can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or the sheer fact that this might be a turning point… for everything… with them.

They had three threesomes before tonight, both lavishing her with attention, sure their hands touching each other on her body, but never a kiss, no touching of each other, focusing on her, and what kinds of sounds she made under their joint effort.

Oh, but tonight… tonight was different. Like she didn’t notice the looks they shared in the heat of the moment—or hell, even back in Cordonia. “You can kiss,” she said and they snapped their attention to her… before going back to each other. Liam’s hand slide down Drake’s side and he shivered, glancing between Liam and Jaela, breathing quick.

“I…”

“Please,” Jaela says, sitting up and removing their hands. “Can’t you feel it? Haven’t you felt it?” She gets on her knees, and they still don’t look at her, Drake touching Liam’s cheek with a gentleness she only saw reserved for herself.

“You won’t be…?” Breathes Liam, now gripping Drake’s neck, their faces closer. Her hearts swells. What else could she feel but utter love for these men… and if they wanted to explore, who was she stop them? They all loved each other with everything they had.

Shaking her head, Jaela takes both of their dicks in each hand, both taking an intake of breath. Still, they stared, even as she began to pump, eyeing them each. “Never. I love you both. You love each other… why not… see what happens? We are sleeping together as one now. What’s holding you ba—”

And finally, fucking finally, they kiss, Jaela not knowing who’s lips touched the others first, Liam’s hands in Drake’s hair and Drake’s around his back. Jaela, quietly sat back and watched the show, letting their desperate, clinging moment come to fruition—until it turned to her, bringing her in center stage once more.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Drake, above average (around 6 ½) and thick, not too much… but enough to make Jaela feel so fucking full that she could cry—and sometimes, she does, from the pleasure. “Abdi, Abdi—are you okay?”

“Just hormonal… and because you feel so good. Don’t stop, please.”

Liam’s slightly bigger, around 7 and thinner, in the slightest. Honestly, Jaela doesn’t care—nor do either of the men—because the competition is over and sometimes, they get to fuck her at the same time—ass and pussy—and Jaela’s convinced she’ll never walk straight again,

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Liam’s higher than both of them, Jaela’s higher than Drake’s, and Drake’s the least of the three—what? He likes cuddling, too—but all are high, passion still running high from their life in Cordonia. Life doesn’t always allow for sex as much as Liam wants, but goddamn if he doesn’t fuck one or both of them four times a week at the least.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Pillowtalking is fine, and Drake and Jaela like it to some extent, though they tend to fall asleep quickly or have sex one more time before they pass out, but Liam is the true king of pillowtalking after sex. To a fault, too.

Legs all tangled together, cool summer air blowing in through the window, drying their sweat and cooling warm, flush bodies, in a heap, light kisses and touches being exchanged between all three, there’s no difference, no matter, with the love they all have, her two rings sparkling in the moonlight. The kisses slow... conversation ebbs… except for Liam, still talking. Drake and Jaela don’t even know anymore.

“Liam…” Drake mumbles, head buried in Jaela’s shoulder.

“Liam…” Jaela follows, taking his chin and turning it to her, Jaela and Drake’s brown eyes focused on his. He stops, eyebrow raised.

“Yeah? I mean, did you hear about—”

“We need—” Jaela starts, but Drake interjects.

“We need some fucking sleep.”

Liam’s looks shocked, but then chuckles, arm lying across Jaela and hand resting on Drake. Maybe he did talk too much, but to be fair, sex on nights like tonight energized him. The world, full of possibility in the little corner of the world they found to be as one. What could he say? It was perfect. Just so perfect, their bodies entwined like it was always meant to be.

Note: Yep, poly AU Drake x Jaela x Liam are definitely going to be making a proper appearance at some point in time. Hope you enjoyed this little AU I’m setting up for them. Bonus points if you can put the backstory piece together.

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milquetoast-on-acid · 6 years

Text

Sanctuary City pt.5, A Reactionary Post

Of Faith and Family

Major Crimes, S6xE5: Episode Review This was another episode that the more I watched the more I liked. The wedding was way to short and that frustrated a lot of us. Myself included. On the positive side it was absolutely beautiful and hands down the most emotional wedding we've ever gotten. Apologies that this is so late, life and the holidays.

What this episode is about: Five Character Moments in Five Minutes Mending Fences FBI (Sharon, Provenza & The Squad) The Church (Sharon & Father Stan) Moments from the Raydor/Flynn/Beck Family The Past and Present Self Sarah: Mateo, Lucas vrs Dr. Alan Redmond Sharon: Andy, Rusty vrs Emily, Ricky (with Father Stan somewhere in the middle) Sharon & Andy's Wedding

Five Character Moments in Five Minutes

Once again we get some awesome character moments that really showcase our amazing ensemble!

Andrea had just come back from Sharon's 80′s themed Bachelorette party.

Rusty talks up some lawyer shit and Sharon looks like a proud mama.

Julio is very sensitive AF (and yeah I'm slow because I JUST realized the reason why) and expresses his displeasure about calling Mateo's death a murder/suicide. If you can recall he was this touchy right after his brother was killed. Sadly with everything that's been happening in this arc I forgot that Julio's mother died. Love seeing the squad parents rally around him. Both Sharon and Provenza warn him that he's getting testy and he needs to cool it. Andy gives him a pat on his shoulder.

Buzz's mind starts working like Sharon's and suggest some sneaky ass bullshit to get around questioning the boys without lawyers. And Sharon looks like a proud mama.

And Sharon talks about how small Jack was and is so happy that she's marrying Andy.

Ryan & Father Mother Lover "I want you to tell me exactly what you told Miguel. Word for Word." When this was first on, those words really struck at me. Because Andy said almost the exact same thing to Sharon in part4. Which really told me that shady Father Motherlover didn't kill Lucas or Mateo.

Questions that need answers: Here is where I am confused. I don't recall the boys ever describing what their attacker looked like. Either Dr Redmond hired someone to kidnap them or he was wearing a mask. Or the boys knew it was him all along and didn't want to tell the police/fbi what he looked like for whatever reason.

Couldn't the LAPD charge Father Mother Lover with crossing the boarder using someone else's identity? He used his brother's passport and admits to it on camera in an interview room. I feel like they should have charged him with that. But didn't because he was part of the church.

Why does Camilla have only one facial expression? She always looks like she's eating a sour lemon. Hey, I'm going to call her Sour Patch Kid from now.

The News Reels I've got some mixed feelings on them. I enjoyed them in the beginning. I think that at times they added to the hype, high profile and urgency in the Josephs 3. Not to mention helped push the political angles that were happening through out the case. You could really see some real life news channels, which reflect real life politics in our world.

This guy is glorifying Marvin Garret while pushing Miguel's family to be deported back to Mexico. Fox news anyone?

But they happen far too often and after a while I just tuned them out. Your supposed to be listening to them and absorbing all of the different view points. And then they HAD to just add that last reel after the case was over. I get why they did it to give a short wrap up to what happened to all of the suspects, victims and witness's but seriously who even cares about what happens to these people? BECAUSE no one did. They are not the characters that we are emotionally invested in. That time could have been spent in a much better way by extending the too short wedding scene. I mean does anyone really care what happened to Bishop Calhoun?

Mending Fences (scenes full of gold)

There is a lot of mending going on in this episode.

FBI (Sharon, Provenza & The Squad) "I don't normally say this to local law enforcement but on behalf of the FBI, I apologize." Quite honestly I did not expect this. Please note that it was Fay that apologized not Vega. And what else I love about is Fay has prod Vega to tell the squad they were wrong and apologize himself. Also note that Fay says "I" while vega says: "we".

What actually happened:

Mom: I apologize for being a bully.

Son: I didn't do anything wrong. I'm not apologizing.

Mom: Say your sorry.

Son: mymomsaysihavetosayimsorry.we'resorry.

Sharon laughs at that pathetic excuse of Fay’s son's apology.

The Church (Sharon and Father Stan) "My worries are a lot to let go of."

I just wanted to point out that Sharon is matching both Andy and Father Stan here. She's wearing that blouse from the infamous hug scene but we only managed to see a small portion of it. It's mostly covered up with a black blazer. Buttoned up which is kind of unusual for Sharon. And the way it's only showing from the neck up makes it look like the Priest's uniform.

I knew that there had to have been a scene between Sharon and Father Stan that would push their relationship back onto the road to recovery. I thought however that it was going to happen much earlier than it did. But it what an amazing emotional scene for Sharon. These two have had such a long history together. A very deep friendship that has lasted decades. And of course Sharon's crisis of faith during these episodes was not ever going to break. It would bend, in the way that it was supposed to but never break.

What's interesting to me is that Father Stan says he's been Sharon's Priest for 22 years. Which means that he became her priest after Sharon separated from Jack. Which makes me wonder if Sharon wasn't as devout of a Catholic until the crisis in her marriage. She says she's been a life long Catholic but that doesn't always mean a devout Catholic. Could the breakdown of her marriage pushed her to have a deeper faith than she did before? Or could this just be a case of Sharon changing Priests? We do know from what Ricky said that Sharon turned to the Catholic Church for support after Jack left.

"How are you feeling?" Sharon unloads her burdens onto Father Stan. We get another peak into Sharon's mind and her emotional state. And once again we are reminded of just how much Sharon really holds in. It really felt that she felt so much relief at unloading herself. And at finally coming to peace with her and Father Stan. With everything that's been going on with Sharon (emotionally and physically) these days. I'm sure it's been even harder for her to push through things without her normal councilor by her side. Father Stan has been her rock and has been with her through good times and bad. He is a definite source of support for her. He's probably one of the longest meaningful relationships she's had with someone other than her family.

"Almost overwhelmed. Not by work or the wedding but my children are concerned about me and they express their fears to you. I can't..." Even when Sharon may die from her heart condition it is her family that is foremost on her mind. And the question that lingers there: "What will happen to them when I am gone?" And I love that Father Stan reminds her that is what faith is all about. To have faith that everything will turn out the way that it should. Whether she survives her illness or whether she dies from her illness.

The music really added to this scene! It was soft, sad and had gradual build up. Which really reflected Sharon's emotional state in this scene. From a quiet sadness building up to a more triumphant sound. Once Sharon is reminded about the purpose of faith, she's feeling more like her self internally.

My only nitpick about this scene is that as beautiful and emotional as this scene is. It really doesn't get a chance to breathe properly. Sharon shakes it off, goes right back to work and it's almost as if the moment didn't happen. And the scene cuts rather fast with a voice over from the next scene even before the shot is cut. I do understand that they pack A LOT in these episodes but sometimes moments (especially moments like these) really need some time to linger. In the way that I felt that the ILY scene from last week got a wonderful chance to breathe.

Moments from the Raydor/Flynn/Beck Family

I'm not sure why they filmed this scene from Rusty's perspective. It's a rather odd choice to make if you ask me because of how much we don't get to see. Their are some really awesome family moments that happen. And I love them all. Emily is an excited bean of energy, who seems to get her 'I love my family happiness' from Sharon. Not quite sure when the last time Emily came to visit (presumably it hasn't been three years). But Emily is just as excited about her mother marrying Andy as Ricky is. And I really love that. I had wondered exactly what Emily's reaction was going to be. I figured that it had to be happiness from her role in Sharon's annulment. Emily embraces Andy in a big hug and unfortunately we don't get to see it.

And there's this...

"This Marriage is the greatest honor of my life." JESUS FUCKING CHRIST! Please Emily tell Sharon that he said this.

And this...

One adorable sibling hug that also hits you right in the feels. Through the years this family has FINALLY come together. And their a gigantic modge podge blend but they sure are happy to all be a family. I love how much love there is for everyone in this family.

The Past and Present Self

Sarah: Mateo, Lucas verses Dr. Alan Redmond "It wasn't like that." "I don't care what it was like. I want to know who."

Amy just doesn't give a shit here and I love it.

They parallel the Raydor/Flynn/Beck Family. The difference here being that everything that Andy, Rusty, Emily and Ricky do for Sharon. It is because they love her. Unlike with Alan. Who destroyed Sarah's life and killed her family because he thought that she would come back to him if her family was gone. The parallel is how little Alan knows Sarah. Verses how Emily and Ricky don't know Sharon's present self.

"All this trouble Doctor. Was it to get Sarah Garza back? Because Lucas freaked out when his mother brought up the idea of divorce and she left you? Do you think murdering her son and sprinkling Oxy everywhere would soften her heart?" Another little parallel. And while not in this particular episode. After Sharon divorced Jack, Jack thought that he'd get Sharon back by manipulating their son into dumping Rusty, showing up at her condo drunk, making her jealous with a french girlfriend. Manipulating information out of their daughter to later use against Sharon's boyfriend. Both men did not think of the damage they did to Sarah or Sharon's families.

Can we end this parallel for to talk about how Andy once again is drooling over his love while she procedes to go full Darth on Alan Redmond's ass. Quite honestly I think Andy has always been turned on by this. And yes even when she had that shit turned on him.

Sharon: Andy, Rusty verses Emily, Ricky (with Father Stan somewhere in the middle)

Look there’s a visual family divide.

The interesting thing about this scene and pretty much the rest of the episode. Is the division between Andy & Rusty vs Emily & Ricky. Someone around the fandom (and I wish I could remember who) had said that Emily and Ricky know Sharon's past. But Andy and Rusty know her now. That couldn't be anymore truer than here.

Emily and Ricky have gone through things with their mother and can explain things that Andy and Rusty may not understand. Such as Sharon's devotion to her faith. When Rusty asked Ricky why a church wedding was so important to Sharon. Emily and Ricky think they know and understand how their mother will behave baised on how she behaved when they were growing up. And while Emily and Ricky were off living their lives and following their careers. Sharon was growing as a person and living her own life. In that time she had a career change, adopted a kid, got divorced and fell in love. That is a lot to happen to a person in 6 years. Your life experiences and the people in them change you as a person. Even if Sharon wanted to be the same person she was when Ricky and Emily were kids. She's not.

Which brings us to Andy and Rusty. Who know, Sharon is now. They live with her and see her every single day. They know that pressuring Sharon to deal with something is not the way to go. Whether it is Sharon's illness or whether it's her wedding. Rusty knows this even before their plane's land which explains his "Oh damn it. When is Mom coming back?" to Buzz, when Ricky and Emily walk into the squad room. Andy catches up as soon as Ricky tells him to use him and Emily to lighten Sharon's load.

And Andy gives us this amazing look of quiet panic. Which I don't know about you but made me bust out when I saw this.

Andy has learned through years of their friendship and romance. That letting Sharon have her time to figure things out inside of her head is a much better way to go. To watch from a far and to be avaliable for her when she needs him. And to let her come to him instead of hovering over her. Because Andy is not a patient guy it must kill him to not push her into talking to him. But he gives her the space that she needs to think things through. Because he understands that's what she needs. While Rusty has absorbed more of Sharon's personality through the years and has just figured out himself that pushing Mom to do anything is a bad idea.

"She's taking her meds, she feels a lot better. Grab a chair. The adults have this. We really do." Love this line and how much this was about the dinner AND Andy telling Ricky that he and Sharon are taking care of her illness. Andy fathering the kids in a way we'd never see Jack father his own children.

We get another big dose of it in Sharon's office the day before the wedding right as they are closing their case. Emily and Ricky pressuring Sharon into dealing with the wedding is putting more stress on Sharon. Sharon eventually puts her foot down and says all I have to do is look great and walk down the aisle. In other words she's saying that she's got faith that everything will turn out just as it should. And she's choosing not to stress about it.

Father Stan is really the only person with a different perspective. As he as has known Sharon for decades and is still a confidant to her now. So he's got a wider perspective having known Sharon of the past and Sharon of the present. On the other hand which the very wonderful themagicm points out her podcast (seriously go check it out if you haven't) is that Sharon isn't really listening to her children. She very clearly sees that they are worried about her and that weighs heavily on her mind. But what she doesn't realize is that allowing them to help her will also help them deal with the implications of Sharon's illness. That they need to feel needed. So there is a very definite divide here and really neither party seems to be giving the other party what they need.

One thing is very clear is that every single person in that room has a massive amount of love for Sharon. And they are all doing what they think is best for her.

Sharon & Andy's Wedding

Much like everyone else it was much too short but it was absolutely gorgeous and there was so much stuff packed into this tiny little scene. Wonderful banter, lots of love (mostly happy, some not so much) and overall extremely emotional. Definitely a pretty epic moment for our couple and for the show. And also like with the proposal and the ILY, the wedding deserves it's own post. I'll be posting that soon.

What I don't like: The wedding was only three minutes long. I'm pretty sad about that. Ricky and Emily arrive at the squad room from Rusty's perspective. Now the problem isn't that it's from Rusty's perspective, the problem is that the scene starts while we are not seeing Ricky and Emily greet Andy but only hearing their voices. So we really miss out on seeing a giant smile on Andy's face at seeing them. Emily enthusiastically embracing Andy and maybe a fist bump between Andy and Ricky. At the end of the case. I think I agree with a lot of people that it dragged on for far too long. With a rather anticlimactic finish to the case.

They've really gone overboard with this fishing/whale metaphor. If you were to look around Sharon's office you'd really think the woman has a huge love of fishing. When that's something that's NEVER been mentioned about her character. I really think that one piece of whale artwork and that Moby Dick book was enough.

While we're on the subject of explaining things. Greg Lavoi can you please explain the wardrobe choice here? The shirt and the blazer -spot on. But that skirt doesn't even go with the rest of the outfit. Mixing plaid and a floral printed shirt? Could this outfit be all about Sharon's mental state and how fucked up it is right now? She's buttoned up and yet so mixed up emotionally. At this point that's where I'm going with it because it really doesn't go AT ALL.

What I like: While the wedding was very very short. What we did get was absolutely beautiful and it couldn't be more apparent that both Sharon and Andy love each other with their whole hearts. No matter how damaged their hearts maybe they are stronger together. Seeing the Raydor/Flynn/Beck family all together functioning as a family unit. I love all of the bickering, bantering, concern, love and happiness between all of them. I wasn't too crazy about the episode the first time I saw it but now that I have seen it a few times and am anaylising it. I must say that I'm seeing so many things in this episode. Particularly the personal storyline that I really love.

One thing I have yet to mention is the actor that plays Father Stan. Mark Damon Espinoza. In the instances of any extension of the main character's families. This show does an amazing job on casting family members. And I consider Father Stan a part of Sharon's family. Considering her very close relationship with him, one that she's had for decades.

Mary! Who the show may have forgotten that there's a reason why she's been nominated for Oscar's twice. But now we are FINALLY seeing the show actually use this wonderfully talented actress.

#major crimes #sharon raydor #andy flynn #shandy #a very shandy wedding #the wedding #sharon & andy's wedding #a reactionary post #mc season 6 a reactionary post

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pestopascal · 6 years

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edging towards hope

“‘Quid pro quo’?” she asks, aside, as squabbling begins. Words heavy and foreign. Definitely not Elvish, trade or even what little qunlat Bull and Amon had shared with her. “It’s Tevene,” Amon answers, as they watch Alistair rise at some taunt from Morrigan. “A way of saying ‘a favour for a favour’.”

Kahari watches as their arguments go, and go, and go, running circles around how they wanted to help, but didn't want to admit why.

cross posted: ao3

Kahari Lavellan is the Herald, Amon Adaar is the Inquisitor. I kinda always preferred the titles separately and, well,

i do like how in game, depending on romance ofc, but esp w zevran, no one just assumed to find zevran and they would find the warden? 'oh they're missing!' actually theyre vacationing in antiva, drinking mimosas in their villa and sighing about how much money they have, but w/e

Leliana had summoned the both of them to the war room, post-haste. Kahari barely had a moment to loop buttons through holes, when Amon had knocked precisely once at her door, throwing it open immediately after. He had looked at her, with that frown he always wore, edged his head in the general direction of where they needed to go, and took off. It didn’t help one of his strides was at least three of hers, but she caught up eventually, and now stood before their advisors.

Two of three who looked like they had accidentally eaten something sour, and Josephine looking just as confused as the rest of them. Morrigan too, lingered around the table, and the warden, Alistair, making himself comfortable in a chair off to the left. Quite a group they had managed, and Kahari sent Amon a look from the corner of her eye. What was going on?

Finally, Cassandra joined them, and whatever stillness filled the room fled. Kahari peered around Cassandra to also see Varric trailing after her. She almost expected the rest of their inner circle to join them, but the door was shut, and Leliana finally spoke.

“We asked you to join us because… we weren’t sure how to do this ourselves.” Such uncertainty in Leliana finally has Amon react, even it was just a slow blink. Kahari watches his chest slowing rise and fall, and wondered what went on in his head for his face to remain so impassive, but how his fingers clenched behind his back so tightly.

“What seems to be the problem?” she probes, as she presumes that was the right thing to do. Humans were strange in that they needed needling and reminding to continue conversation. Whilst Kahari found it oddly adorable, Shiral had merely bristled at such an idea. There was harping on about how conversation was not a matter of asking your partner to continue, but well, Shiral said a lot of things Kahari stopped listening to, especially when it came to humans.

Cullen moves, but he’s stiff, just as unsure. Like he wasn’t sure if he should lean against the table, sit at the edge, maybe just lie down on the ground. Kahari was halfway to asking if he would be more comfortable that way, when he finally speaks: “the Hero of Ferelden made contact with us. They… wish to offer their assistance.”

“Oh?” Amon surely made the question, but his mouth hardly moved for it. Fascinated, Kahari continued to stare, waiting for Amon to continue, move the conversation along. But he had said his piece, and Cullen stepped in.

“However, she wants us to help her first.” From the way Cullen fidgets, resting elbow upon hilt before moving once again, this was hitting some chord that he wasn’t sure how to deal with. Kahari left watching Amon’s face, to looking around the room. (Absently, she noticed Varric showing something other than despair — a blank look of fear, and that just begged addressing).

Morrigan interjects, and this was starting off like one of those overtly dramatic books Kahari had recently. “Of course she does. Basilia has always been fond of ‘quid pro quo’, as it was.”

“‘Quid pro quo’?” she asks, aside, as squabbling begins. Words heavy and foreign. Definitely not Elvish, trade or even what little qunlat Bull and Amon had shared with her.

“It’s Tevene,” Amon answers, as they watch Alistair rise at some taunt from Morrigan. “A way of saying ‘a favour for a favour’.”

“Oh… what a strange language.”

Amon’s mouth curls into a smile. “Very old fashioned.”

Rolling the words in her head, adding it away to the Tevene that she knew of, Kahari had to ask: “so, should we be worried?” The ‘of her’ went unspoken, but Amon knew immediately.

“I’ve heard stories from the Arishok. He spoke highly of this Hero. Even more so than his predecessor of Hawke. ‘Basalit-an’ is what Hawke is, but the Hero…” His voice sunk to some depth Kahari hadn’t heard before — low, reverent. As if his life had been marked by meeting the Hero, too.

But Kahari frowned as Amon trailed off. Of course she had heard of the Blight, heard of the mage. A Dalish elf had also accompanied her, or several, stories get muddled, but whatever happened to them was lost to the wind. “What did the Arishok call the Hero of Ferelden?”

“‘Kadan’. ‘Ashkaari’. ‘Basalit-an’ even before he was Arishok.”

“Huh.” Truly, that was all she could manage, as Amon’s face fell smoothly back into place, conversation over. Revealed too much, or enough? Kahari had a grasp of Qunlat that she understood the meaning of words, that the new Arishok had heaped on the Hero of Ferelden, and watching how the humans were still disputing over some request or other, just made her wonder what everyone else in the room referred to her as.

“What would you have us do, then?” She asks, just as Leliana, or Josephine, or even Cassandra, went to fire up again.

“Don’t—”

“—We have to—”

“—Morale—”

“Enough!”

Blinking, Kahari turns to look over her shoulder. Varric had finally spoken up. Strange, to see him equal parts fearful and angered, as he strode into the centre of the room, not letting his emotions prevent him from capturing all eyes. Kahari caught the look Amon gave her, quickly, and nodded. Let Varric say his piece.

“Yes, having the Hero of Ferelden on our side will be helpful. She’s powerful, connected, and having her in our back pocket will bring in a lot of income, too.” Varric’s eyes sweep as he talks, picking out each person as he raises a point. Making it apparent to them. Kahari always enjoyed watching him speak, as Amon was commanding, authoritative, and she believed herself to be adequate enough. But Varric addressed a room in ways neither of them could.

“I think we’re forgetting the fact that we condemned her cousin to the Fade, the wardens are now separated from the North, what happened at Redcliffe, and the fact that it’s an archdemon. Any one of those reasons is enough for her to leave, or burn us all.”

“Varric—” Cassandra speaks up, taking a step forward. An attempt to intervene.

“What’s your point then, Varric? Are you saying we help her, or don’t?” Cullen is tense, just wanting a definitive yes or no. His face shifts too much, as if he himself knows what he wants, and is trying to deny it for argument’s sake. But arguing with who? A mental note, for later. Discuss with Amon.

“She’ll know about what happened with Hawke by now. Hawke said she left Fenris in Amell’s care.” There’s tension in him now. The wound was still raw, and when Kahari had sat with Varric by the fire, as he had written out letters to friends spread all over Thedas, she had listened to tales of Hawke that seemed wild and unrealistic. Clenched fists. Hunched shoulders. Wound open and bleeding on the floor.

Kahari wanted to help, but she didn’t know these people. Names, going over her head. Amon seemed to have moved, no longer stony faced and impassive, but looking, trying to find answers in body language. Whatever he found, Kahari hoped he would share. At least three separate people in the room were for the Hero, and Kahari could hear their hearts beat a little faster at just the mention of a surname.

“We just need to know what we need to do, and what to do,” Kahari reminds them, interjecting. No need to rehash the events of Adamant, of Redcliffe, of Haven. “We’ll find her, just, please—”

“Basilia plans on heading to Tevinter,” Alistair speaks, and his tone is grave. “She wouldn’t be here for long, even if you found her.”

Morrigan practically squawks, and Kahari had never thought for her to make such an unrefined noise. She was not the only one to notice. “And how would you know something like that?”

Alistair actually manages to procure the most withering stare, and his response was filled with enough weight behind it, that Kahari had to wonder if something deeper was going on. “I do actually try to keep in contact with friends, Morrigan. You should learn about this amazing thing called a letter. Quite handy.”

Finally, finally, Josephine spoke up. “But if you have been keeping in contact, how has no one been able to find Lady Amell?” Kahari had to crack a smile at how she pointedly looked at Cassandra and Leliana.

“She’s been in Antiva,” Alistair answered, to no one in particular. As if it was just a mere fact. And it was.

Cassandra scoffed. “Antiva?! Don’t be ridiculous!” Had they actually travelled to Antiva? Amon had said something about how much effort had gone into scouring for Hawke, when Hawke walked through the front gates of Skyhold without anyone stopping her. Which just begged the question: did anyone know what their Heroes and Champions even looked like? As no one seemed to believe that neither herself nor Amon could be Herald or Inquisitor.

And as far as Kahari was aware, both Amell and Hawke were humans. Ferelden women, too.

“With Zevran. Crows? Antivan Crows? Remember that assassination attempt? Love at first stab thing? Her and Zevran are always together. The last time I saw them at Amaranthine they were hardly separated for a minute.”

From the way Alistair spelled it out, realisation seemed to dawn on Cassandra like she hadn’t considered that a possibility. When Kahari’s clan had been going between lands and borders, they had heard of the Crows — but of course, almost everyone did. Rumours of Dalish elves joining the Crows was something elders tried to crush, but some younger ones romanticised it, while others lived in fear of being taken in the night.

Kahari admittedly had found one of the stories some of the older girls told to be bittersweet, and well. Well. “Wait, the Hero — the Warden — nearly got assassinated, and instead married her assassin?” Creators, this was definitely better than her books.

“It wasn’t a very good attempt, to be fair.” Alistair shrugged. Kahari was going to write a letter home, and tell them that at least a combination of six different stories had actually come true.

“But it happened!”

Opening his mouth to speak, Alistair was cut off. Not by Morrigan, Leliana, Cassandra, Cullen or even Josephine! But, in fact—

“I have heard enough.” Snatching the papers off the table, a map, a note, a series of questions, Amon turns heel and only stops to pause at the door for one last rumble. “We will leave at sundown. Finish your squabbling and see me before then if need be.”

The door closes. No one spoke. Kahari assumed that meant Amon had gathered what he had needed to understand, and let out a small sigh. Her cue to leave as well. Amon would tell Bull, who would tell her. Convenient Bull was so willing to work between the two of them, as if the translation and secrecy reminded him of a life he once had, perhaps.

A thought for another time. Kahari just smiles, bows, and follows where Amon would have gone, not waiting for the door to shut behind her. She can hear the voices rise down the hallway and thinks, oh, humans.

#female lavellan #male adaar #dragon age inquisition #dragon age #alistair theirin #cassandra pentaghast #im not tagging them all #my fic #lyrium high

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atanih88 · 5 years

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FIC: Piece by Piece - Chapter 10 (Marvel MCU, Tony/Peter)

Title: Piece by Piece Pairing: Tony Stark/Peter Parker Rating: Explicit Chapter: 10/13 Summary: Three years after the end of the Infinity War, the world prepares to celebrate its third anniversary of freedom. The world doesn’t realize that the heroes who fought for them are a little broken. But hey, maybe broken together, is better than broken and apart.

Notes: Written for Marvel Big Bang 2018 and originally posted on my AO3. Go there for full fic. Will be posting one chapter a day here.

CHAPTER 10

‘How does it feel?’

Peter turns to find Tony standing at the entrance to the workshop.

Tony’s panting as he takes a drink from the water bottle in his hand. He’s got the hoodie over his head. Sweat dampens the dark navy t-shirt he’s wearing down his chest in a V and beads of sweat pepper his face. Peter’s not sure if he’s come back from a run or if he’s been at the ring getting some training in. Peter hadn’t seen him since the previous night, each of them going their separate ways after they’d returned from Tony’s version of a “walk”.

The thing is, Peter can’t look at the guy that’s been mentoring him since he was fifteen without thinking about how he’d sucked his thumb into his mouth and how Peter would’ve gladly sucked more than just that.

It’s not that Peter has been oblivious to his attraction to Tony all this time. He knows his gaze has always lingered too long on Tony, that he’s always looked too impressed with whatever Tony accomplishes, always defended Tony that bit too hard when people decide to be dicks about him—okay, so sometimes they have a point? But Peter figures if people have something to say, then they should say it to that person’s face, you know? Jerks.

‘Um,’ Peter flexes his wrists, not realizing he’s frowning as he tests out the flexibility of his newly adapted web shooters. He’d spent all night working on it. ‘It’s okay? I think I might need to just make it more giving? It’s too stiff.’ Of course, the word stiff seems to echo in the silence. FRIDAY had offered to put some music on for him, but Peter likes silence now and again.

The sanctuary that Tony Stark’s home had initially provided against sleeplessness has disappeared. Although Peter isn’t blaming that on night terrors.

‘You’ve done a good job with it. Is the force field activating like it should?’ Tony walks further into the room, tilting his head back and squirting more water into his mouth.

Peter can feel the web shooter’s frame pressing awkwardly into the gland on his right wrist and makes a mental note to adjust the tightness of the band. ‘It works but something’s still not right, it’s creating the force field but it’s not sustaining it? So I need to figure out what’s going wrong.’ Peter makes himself look at Tony, fixes his eyes to Tony’s face and doesn’t let it stray. ‘But if I can get it to stay up just a few seconds longer then I can get it tomould the web—I just need it to stretch a bit more, make it so that when the web fluid hits the forcefield it’s taut enough to not cave around the objects.’

Tony’s mouth curls into a smug smile, almost as if he’s the one who’s worked it all out. ‘Sounds good. Alright!’ he finishes chugging down the rest of his water, slaps a hand on Peter’s shoulder and turns to leave again. ‘Gonna call Pepper before she comes back down here to bust my ass. She’s trying to get a hold of Thor for the reveal and not having any luck,’ then in a mutter, ‘plus those damn papers. Oh. And that cat of yours? Getting a little too comfortable in my bed. Talk to your animal, Parker. Get it a ball of yarn or something. You owe me a new set of silk sheets. In Ocean Blue.’

‘Uh. Mr. Stark I can’t really afford silk sheets? In any color.’

Tony just waves a hand over his head and keeps walking. ‘Don’t over do it, Parker.’

Peter’s wrists throb.

Of course, he overdid it.

He grimaces, holding them under the rush of the cold tap.

Alley Cat watches him from the closed toilet seat, face buried half underneath her tail.

‘You have a call Peter,’ Karen’s voice says, echoing in the room, ‘MJ Jones.’

‘Uh, thanks Karen, put her on!’

‘Hey. You busy today? I need your genetically modified freak genes for something.’

Peter frowns. ‘Nice. Thanks. I’m great by the way.’

‘Sure, sure. Focus, Peter. The shelter’s moving to its new location tonight and we need more hands on deck.’

Peter hisses as the cold starts to grate too much on his skin and yanks his wrists out from underneath the water, flicking drops everywhere. He snatches up the towel draped over the skin and dabs at the sore glands with them. ‘Um, sure. I mean I can do that. Oh! But I need to speak to Mr. Stark—’

‘Yeah, sure. Bring him too. Billionaires should do more for their community and we could use the PR.’

‘No, that’s not—’

‘And why do you still call him Mr. Stark?’

‘What? What’s wrong with that?’

‘It’s weird.’

‘It isn’t weird! What?’

‘Peter. It’s weird. It’s like you’ve got a daddy fetish or something.’

Peter’s mouth drops open and he stands there, like an idiot staring at the bathroom wall.

‘Ms. Jones has ended the call,’ Karen says.

‘Sure,’ Peter says weakly, ‘thanks, Karen.’ He finishes dabbing his wrists dry and tosses the towel in the hamper. ‘I don’t have a daddy fetish,’ he mutters under his breath and stalks out of the bathroom.

Tony’s standing by his bed.

Peter stops, one hand around his wrists protectively. ‘Uhhh…’ he can feel the color climbing up his neck as his whole body runs from hot to cold and back again. The embarrassment is swallowing him whole.

Did he hear that? Had he heard any of that—

Tony’s got his hands tucked into his pockets and he’s rocking back on his feet. It’s been a few hours since he left Peter down in the workshop and he’s showered and changed. The sleeves of his long-sleeved t-shirt are pushed up past his elbow and the top three buttons of the row that runs halfway down his chest are unbuttoned.

‘Didn’t I say not to overdo it?’

Peter looks down at the wrists, skin still cool to the touch from the cold water they’d been under for so long. ‘I didn’t?’ He licks his lips and clasps his hands together. ‘Mr. Stark, MJ didn’t mean anything by it she’s just—it was just a joke, um, sorry. I’m gonna head over there later to lend a hand with the—’

‘The shelter. Moving. Yeah, I heard,’ Tony says, voice wry. ‘What time are we leaving?’

‘We?’

‘This billionaire is supposed to do more for the community or so I heard.’

Peter closes his eyes. He’s going to kill MJ. He’s actually going to use his powers for evil. Because evil can only be countered with evil. May will understand. Ned will back him. Ned’s his bro. Peter almost wishes he could disappear. Except that’s happened to him and it wasn’t so fun.

The embarrassment is yanked out of his system as the recall comes to him without warning, intruding on a moment where it isn’t welcome—it’s never welcome—and leaving his stomach warped and unsteady. The world tilts around him and he opens his eyes quickly, panic elevating his pulse as his eyes dart all over the place before settling on the hands he’s holding out for himself. It takes him a moment to focus. To realize that they’re there. Not fading, not disappearing. Those are his hands.

Fingers snap in front of his face.

Peter jerks his head up, eyes wide. The air leaves him on a gasp.

Tony’s in front of him. Peering into his face and there’s a small sharp pain on the swell of his calf. Peter lowers his hands and finds Alley Cat staring up at him, standing on her hind legs, one paw clawing into the muscle of Peter’s calf.

‘Hey, hey.’ Tony’s voice is soft, coaxing. Strong calloused fingers curl gently around Peter’s wrists, drawing back his attention. His hands are warm.

‘Sorry,’ Peter says. The breath he lets out comes out shaky. He steps back, dislodging Alley Cat who hisses at him before turning her back on him and jumping up onto his bed. ‘I’m okay. I’m okay, Mr. Stark.’ He tugs his wrists away and starts walking backwards. ‘And you don’t have to come tonight, MJ was just being…MJ. I’m uh, gonna get dressed and head over there now.’

‘I don’t mind—’

But Peter just smiles brightly, clasping his hands tightly together. ‘I’ll see you later Mr. Stark. Don’t wait up.’

Tony doesn’t move for a while, his eyes narrowed on Peter’s face. Then he clucks his tongue once. He nods. ‘Alrighty. Guess I’ll leave you to it, then.’ He stops by the bed to run his fingers over Alley Cat’s head, dragging a reluctant purr out of her. Then with one more look over his shoulder at Peter, he makes his way out of the room.

Peter’s eyes are fixed on the point where Tony’s just disappeared. He lets his hands fall back to his side.

They’re shaking.

He’s not sure if it’s from experiencing his nightmare like this, or if it’s because he’d been so close to throwing himself at Tony.

Yeah. Peter’s screwed.

And the least MJ can do since he’s going to be carting around boxes for her, is listen to him.

Peter might get punched in the face tonight.

When Peter finishes setting down the fifth one of the boxes from the last batch that he’d been helping transfer from the truck to the back room of the new shelter, MJ is standing there, arms folded across her chest, glare pinned on Peter. Her hair has escaped the knot she’d put it up in, falling over her eyes in curly kinks. She blows at at it, tossing her head back to get it to move but it doesn’t work. She just huffs in annoyance but doesn’t bother to shove it out of the way.

‘What’s wrong with you?’ she asks.

Peter toes at the corner of the box he’s plopped down and shoves his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

He feels warm, loosened up. The work has helped to distract him so far and as the boxes dwindled so had his temporary peace because it meant that he’d have to think about everything. Kind of like how he’s doing now. Yeah. He’s definitely thinking about it now.

‘Spit it out Parker. We still need to finish putting these in the back before we can close up,’ she says.

And because she’s MJ and lying to her is pointless and telling her he doesn’t want to talk about it is pointless—and also a lie because Peter needs to talk to someone else about it and although Ned is like, the world’s coolest best friend, Peter’s not sure if he’s the one he’d want to get advice on this from. Although. That gives him pause and eyes MJ. It’s not like the three of them are good at these sorts of things so she’ll probably be as bad at this as Peter or Ned.

Huh.

‘Okay. Let me guess,’ she rolls her eyes, ‘it’s Stark.’

Oh god is it written on his face?

‘Oh, please,’ she waves her hand at him, ‘yeah. Hate to break it to you but I’ve seen you make that face multiple times already. It’s pathetic actually. You need to work on your poker face. For a superhero it’s really problematic.’

‘What? How? I wear a mask—‘

‘Yeah. That’s a good thing.’

‘Hey!’

‘I don’t mean,’ she waves at his general self, ‘you’re pretty, okay? I’m sorry I hurt your feelings,’ another roll of eyes, ‘alright. So what is it?’ She hitches herself up onto what’s going to be the new welcome counter for visitors to the shelter.

Peter sighs and then goes over to hop up next to her.

They both stare out the windows looking out onto the quickly darkening street outside. The streetlights are starting to come on further down the road. At least this is a better location than the other shelter, more traffic noise but more visibility and the noise won’t be so bad that it’ll unsettle the animals. Plus, Peter’s seen all the space in the back and MJ had said that this place would be able to hold more strays as well. The even better part is that this one also has a bigger room for the in-house vets. They have a rota for the volunteer vets that means they have someone to cover each day of the week. It hadn’t been an easy thing to do, but MJ had volunteered for the task of securing that part of it. If MJ ever tries to leave this place, Peter’s not so sure the manager won’t sabotage every attempt she makes just to keep her here.

It’s not perfect but Peter thinks they made a good choice with the relocation and that the shelter will benefit from it.

‘Well?’

Peter groans and rubs his hands over his eyes, digging the heels of his hands in until dull stars burst against the black of his eyelids. Then he pushes his hair back from his face, blinking when his eyes smart against the lack of pressure and the bright lights blaring down from the shelter’s ceiling.

‘Mr. Stark…’

‘Yeeees?’

‘I—with Mr. Stark, I mean, I want—I think—‘

MJ is staring at him, an unimpressed curl to her lip, eyebrow arched as she watches him try to get the words out. ‘Okay. So, basically you’ve realized what the rest of us have known all this time, which is, that you want to fuck Tony Stark.’

Peter’s mouth drops open.

‘And call him daddy.’

Peter splutters.

‘I’m joking, relax.’

Peter doesn’t look away from her. He can feel how tight his jaw is as he gnaws on on his lower lip. ‘I did. I do. Uh—not the part about calling him daddy—’ MJ gives him a doubtful look which Peter ignores because yeah okay, it’s not like it wouldn’t turn him on to do it—anything with Tony would turn him on at this point, ‘but I guess I’ve always had some kind of feelings for him? It’s just…it’s just…’ he thinks about the time he’s been spending with Tony.

He’s spent time with Tony before. But not like this. Not so intimately. Not with Tony so tactile and transparent in his concern. Emotionally. Because Tony has always told him when he thinks Peter is trying too hard.

Peter drags in a deep breath and then shrugs. ‘There were these moments that were so—so—you know? And, I mean nothing happened. But I felt like it could? And he pulled back. I’m not sure if he—if he feels the same way. He calls me a kid all the time.’

‘I doubt Tony Stark is under the impression that you’re still a fifteen year old. Not when you’ve had,’ she pauses there and makes air quotes, ‘moments.’ She gives him a long look. ‘So. What are you gonna do about it?’

‘What? Me? No! Nothing. What am I supposed to do?’

Yeah. She does not look impressed with him. At all. ‘Tell him. For starters. I don’t understand why you’re this nervous. Hasn’t he had his AI stalking you forever?’

He huffs. ‘That’s different, that was because. Because.’ He turns away, starts to swing his feet, bouncing his heels off the counter. ‘We almost died.’ Trepidation rolls over him whenever he gets close to even thinking about it. But he doesn’t shy away from it this time. ‘I did die. And he was there. It was so bad. I don’t know if I’ll ever get over it. If any of us will, you know?’

Beside him, MJ sighs, soft this time, no irritation in it. She scoots until she’s sitting close to him, their arms pressed together. ‘Peter.’

He looks over at her. She’s looking at him, eyes soft and the smallest of genuine curls to her mouth. ‘Tell him.’

‘Right,’ he nods, faces forward again and watches the cars go by. ‘Tell him.’ He thinks about that morning. About all of those almosts that he’s sure weren’t felt by him alone. ‘Okay. Yeah. Sure. I can do that.’

‘So, tomorrow is the big night right?’

‘Huh? Oh, yeah. May already picked out this sweet tux for me and everything,’ Peter smiles. ‘I like it. I’m picking her up before we head over to the ceremony.’

‘Pictures. I want pictures, Parker.’

‘You know you could just come with us, right? Ned can’t make it either.’

‘Well, all the more reason for you to try and bang Stark tomorrow, right? Seduce him with your epic tux and non-existent charm.’

Peter shoves her—gently!—and can’t help but laugh when she flips him off.

‘Seriously, though,’ MJ says as she straightens and leans on the counter, really grinning at him now, ‘you suck at seduction.’

And yeah, Peter loves his friends.

#tony stark/peter parker #starker #marvel mcu #slow burn

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