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madwomansapologist · 10 months

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Hi. Can you write a smut scene between the female reader and my favorite Disney character, Captain Hook from Disney’s Peter Pan 1953 original film that starts with love at first sight please? I have a serious fangirl crush on him.

hooked by you | captain hook

synopsis: It happened. It finally happened. Hook defeated Peter Pan. He saw the silhouette flying above the clouds, readied the modified harpoon that fired a net, and finally managed to catch him! Little did he knew it wasn't Peter Pan.

warnings: DarlingSister!reader. female!reader. porn with plot. love at first sight. mention of erotic literature. that man is possessive. guns. chats about murder.

note: Thanks for your request, darling! I watched it again to write this, and I've just realized it's been almost eight years since I last saw Peter Pan. It was fun. And you made me realize I don't have normal pure thoughts about Hook. Like if I needed another character to be obsessed with. Hope you like it!

After so much screaming and arguing, George and Mary finally left the house. You waved, wished them a good night, and locked the front door. What a mess. All that fuss because of a character from a bedtime story.

You went upstairs and opened the door to your sibilings' room, but the three of them were already asleep. You knew that Wendy didn't want to leave the children's room, you thought that if you talked to her that fear could be eased, but she was already sighing. Maybe tomorrow.

You entered your room and changed into your pearly nightgown. You saw your parents entering a cabriole from the wide window. When they disappeared, you ran into the backyard and released Nana from the leash.

Tomorrow you'll sort it out with your dad. George can be furious, your mom word it as passionate, but deep down he's the most caring father you could wish for. George is always barking, never biting.

And your night would have ended there if you hadn't looked up. You should have seen a starry night. A full moon. But you saw your brothers. Flying.

That's it. You went crazy. Mad. Lunatic.

"Peter, wait!" Michael cry out. "You forgot one sister!"

"Michael?" You shuddered. Insane. Completely insane. "Michael, is that you?"

"Wait a second!" Michael waved the teddy bear at you and disappeared into the sky. After a infinite second, he appeared with something glowing in his hand and flew towards you. "Think happy thoughts," he instructed you.

Then a glittering dust fell on you. You coughed and tried to clear yourself. Crazy. Completely crazy. When you looked down, you saw the ground. Which would be normal. If it wasn't too far away.

Michael took your hand. "I told you Peter Pan existed!"

"Oh. My God." You shouted. "Oh. My God." You were flying! Flying. No. No, you weren't. You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and emptied your mind. When you opened your eyes, you saw the Big Ben. From above. "Oh. My. God."

"Don't be scared." Michael gave you two pats on the back. The same you do when he wakes up from a nightmare. He gave you his teddy bear. You hold onto it like it would protect you from anything. "We are going to Neverland!"

Then Michael flew again. You got to see John and Wendy flying up ahead, along with who could only be Peter Pan. You tried to follow them, but flying was a lot harder than the three of them made it out to be.

It was just a really realistic dream. Just that. A good dream about flying with your siblings.

Hugging the teddy bear, you slowly followed them. You passed chimneys, climbed through clouds, stood over the hands of Big Ben: always a few minutes late in comparison to them. But in the end, even with a lot of fear, you did follow them towards the Second Star to the Right.

Seeing Neverland, you felt butterflies in your stomach. It wasn't madness, it wasn't a dream, it was true. When the four stopped on a cloud, you thought you finally caught up with them.

Then something hit you.

It got tangled up in your body, heavy enough to make you fall. A net pulling you into the sea. You tried to fly, you tried to let go, but the more you moved the more you got tangled up in it.

The net was heavy, pulling you down, but it wasn't a sudden fall. You just couldn't go up. Which didn't mean it was comfortable. Yards and yards of fabric tangled up on you, just weighing you down.

A whirlwind of voices showed you that people were approaching, but you couldn't see anything. You just felt the impact against what must have been the ground. It didn't hurt, but it felt weird to stop flying.

"Finally, Mr. Smee, I will take care of my worthy opponent." You heard a rough, deep voice. People laughed at what he said. "I've waited years for it."

"That's not countin' the holidays, either", Mr. Smee complete. "Aye, there is the knife, Captain."

You tried to let go but only heard a deep chuckle. "Don't be a coward, my old enemy, face your fate." You heard the ripping of ropes. The weight on you began to lift. "Hook defeated you."

The knot holding the hammock came undone, and only then did you realize how much you needed to breathe without pounds of rope over your face. You blinked, the sun blinded you, and the black silhouette in front of you took on color.

And he was beautiful. You've read stories about pirates. Beautiful and funny stories like the ones Wendy shares with her brothers. But also about strong men, who know their ships like the back of their hands, who survive the ravages of the sea and vanquish the mightiest heroes. And you've also read about pirates who knew how to please a woman, dishonest men who kneel in front of their beloved, experienced men doing things girls shouldn't even know exist.

Hook reminded you of the latter type. "Disappointed?", you whispered. After all, it was just a dream.

Hook was frozen in place. Ready to slit Peter's throat and deliver him an honorable death, what was caught in his net was something far different than his little imp.

His heart was pounding so loudly that he almost didn't hear the question asked by the lady in front of him. Disappointed? How could he? You were more beautiful than any mermaid, more graceful than any woman he had ever seen, more delicate than any pearl. Wars would be fought in your honor and that would be the least any man with sense could do.

But his sailors are not known for being sensible.

"Of course we are!" One of them thought he had the right to talk to you. As if it wasn't already a miracle that he could see someone like you. "Where's Peter?"

Then Hook moved. He took the revolver out of his jacket and, without even looking in the direction he was aiming, pulled the trigger. The sailor fell overboard.

"Forgive me", Hook extends his hand to you. "My men don't know how to treat a lady."

You hesitated but accepted the touch. Hook set you on your feet again, more gently than you thought a pirate could display. "Apparently you kidnapped me."

"Aye, this is just a misunderstanding. See, I thought you were Peter Pan. It's not every day you see someone different flying over my ship."

"So... can I leave?" Your feet left the ground. Looks like you were already getting used to this flying thing. "And nothing will happen to me?"

Hook ran his fingers through his hat, a polite smile spreading across his face. "I would never dream of hurting you." Hook gestured toward his office. "May I apologize for the misunderstanding?"

"Apologize?"

"Drinks and conversation." Hook ran his fingers over his face. Good thing Mr. Smee shaved. It would be a horror if the love of his life met him in something other than his best version. "A proper apology."

You wouldn't normally accept such a request. To be alone with an unknown and dangerous man. Drinking with a man! But that was just a dream.

In his room, you floated around looking at the different shelves and finds. A pirate ship! It has so many treasures. "If you had captured Peter, would you have killed him?"

Your question took him by surprise. "That doesn't strike me as a conversation of lady interest."

As you turned, you saw Hook swapping the silver hook for a gold one. You smirked. "I showed interest, didn't I?"

Bossy. Ah, Hook knew you were his soulmate for sure. "I would have. Does that bother you?"

"No." You floated toward him, and sat down on the chair across from the table. Hook poured two glasses of some drink. You took the glass and thanked him, but didn't drink. "After all, this it's nothing but a dream."

"Dream?” Hook chuckled, downing his drink and sitting back in his armchair. “What convinces you of that?”

"I was at home, ready for bed, and suddenly I was flying to Neverland." You shrugged. "Clearly a dream."

Hook understood what was happening. Peter seems to have been confused. You are not a lost child. He never was careful. "I can prove this is not a dream."

"How?"

Hook rose, slowly circling the table. In front of her, he leaned on the wood. "Aren't you going to drink?"

Only then did you remember the glass in your hands. You took a sip, a grimace came over your face. "Strong", you coughed.

"Here's the proof." Hook touched your chin, making you lift your head and look. Only he did it with the golden hook. "Ever felt something like that in a dream?"

You swallowed hard. "No."

"So that means you're alone with the most dangerous pirate on the seven seas, the person who wouldn't have thought twice about slicing someone's throat out, completely helpless." Hook leaned in until he could feel your breath against his face. "Does that bother you?"

"You don't seem interested in ripping my throat out."

He gave you time to walk away. To fly in the direction you wanted. To leave him without saying a single word. Hook gave you time, but you let him kiss you.

He tasted like the rum you ignored. The hook left your chin and slid down to your waist, pulling you toward him. You leaned into his chest, kissing him back. It was so wrong, so unlike anything you would ever do, but it also felt so good.

You pulled away for air, and felt his fingers caressing your cheek. When you opened your eyes, you saw that Hook was smiling. "Do you know how to be silent?" You nodded in agreement. "Excellent."

He lifted you from the chair, and in one swift movement sat you down on the table. Hook was strong. Too strong. He pressed his thumb to your lip, watching you with lust. "You were made for me."

Before you could say anything, Hook knelt. You've read about it in books, but you could never imagine it would be such a satisfying sight. A man so strong, so dangerous, brought to his knees by you.

Hook didn't even bother to remove your nightgown. He just stuck his head between the fabric, desperate to satisfy you. To make you feel the same way he felt about you. To make you scream for him and make everyone understand that you belonged with him.

And so you did. Feeling him delight in your curves, his tongue brushing against your lips, his fingers pressing into your clit. You tried to be silent as he asked, but after a while you stopped worrying about it.

"You..." You didn't even knew what you wanted to say. You just wanted to feel more. To feel completed. To feel more and more of him. "I think I had dreams like that before."

You felt him gasp against your sex. Hook rose, his damp face close to yours, and you felt your face burn. "Haven't I convinced you this isn't a dream yet?"

His fingers explored your lips again, applying just the right pressure. You moaned against his lips, Hook squeezed his eyes shut. "What else do I have to do to convince you?"

You smiled. "I think you know what you need to do."

He bit your lip. "As you wish."

His fingers entered you. Slowly, carefully, but no less willingly. He filled you, long fingers repeatedly penetrating your insides, and you were unable to do anything but hold on to his shoulders and allow him to do whatever he wanted to you.

The sound of your wet pussy was almost embarrassing. "You're mine", Hook whispered against your ear.

"As you wish."

He quickened his movements, fucking you with a devotion no one has ever shown you. So close, so glued to your body, Hook has guided you to orgasm. You shuddered against his fingers, your fingernails scratched his perfectly groomed jacket, your moans were uncontrollable.

"Do you still think I'm part of a dream?” Hook trailed kisses from your throat to your jaw. “Has anything this good ever happened in your dreams?'

You shook your head. It was as close to an answer you were able to give him. It was enough for him. Hook is patient. He can wait.

GENERAL TAGLIST: @suakemi @notanalienindisguiseblink

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aidanchaser · 6 months

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how fair you were in [moonlight]

This was one of my favorites to Remix (I feel like I've said that about all of them but i mean it every time). I had a lot of fun puzzling out the poetry/structure for this fic! I hope you enjoy.

Read the original - how fair you were in summertime by @ladyofthenoodle Read on Ao3 Send ladyofthenoodle a thank you for organizing the @mlsquaredance and managing this lovely event

The full moon arrived at its appointed time, and Marinette donned the glittering red earrings that had been given to her by her master. She couldn’t say what the glamor did, exactly, because it refused to show itself in her mirror, but when she looked down, she could see a gown that draped over her shoulders in long, billowing sleeves and light, airy skirts in a crimson as brilliant as any sunrise. She had to infer, though, that her mask had all the markings of a ladybug, because that was what the fae called her when they saw her.

Though her heart pounded in her chest, she held her head high and picked her way through the shadows of the trees until she arrived at the infamous fae court.

Stepping into the clearing, where the moon’s light filled the round space as fully as a spotlight on a stage, was like stepping into a dream. Everything from the gossamer-like wings edged in glowing gold that draped from one fae’s shoulder to the glittering green armor of another, as if he were cloaked in hundreds of scales like the wings of jade beetles, felt eerie and unreal.

It was easy to get lost in the romance of it all, to be swept up in the dance and moonlight, but Marinette was careful to keep her wits about her. Even as a passing masked young man pressed a goblet into her hand, she set it aside. She would accept no food nor drink, would make no deals nor offers, not until she had what she had come for.

There were a number of stories about the fae court that wove their way throughout the land. There were tales of travelers who wandered for hours, only to turn up days or months later, caught in a dream for far longer than they had imagined. There were young men and women who had stumbled into the dance and stumbled out, only to pine for the pleasure they had partaken of, however brief, until they wasted away from wanting. But lately, there were new stories, stories of a fae who offered power to the desperate and vulnerable, and the cost was their very humanity.

Marinette paused to listen to a nearby fae play a haunting melody on a reed. She wore a coat of silky red fur, and a tufted tail swished at her waist. She winked at Marinette as she passed and jerked her reed in a clear motion for Marinette to join the dance.

But Marinette stepped back to the edge of the clearing. Not only was she afraid to accept any invitation, however innocent it seemed, but she had to consider that the fox might be the very monster-maker that she hunted. She could not afford to be wrong. The iron dagger at her hip was cloaked by her glamor for the moment, but once she withdrew it, she would have only one chance to strike.

She still wasn’t entirely sure how she would know which fae was turning humans into monsters and unleashing them on the villages that surrounded the forest. Her master had told her that the monsters bore the mark of the butterfly, but she could not be certain the fae would bear that mark anywhere that she could see. Each night she slipped away from her home to join the court’s evening celebrations, but she had seen no clues yet. She hoped that tonight, at a full moon gathering when every fae slipped from their homes of hollowed oaks or abandoned the edges of winding trails for a midnight revelry, she might find something to point her to her target, but so far, she had seen and heard nothing.

“Why, my lady, do you wait in the dark?” a lilting voice curled in her ear.

The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as cool breath ghosted across her skin. Though her flesh pricked like a plucked goose, she kept her face calm and turned to find a fae lounging in a low branch of the tree just behind her.

His face was smeared in black, though his hair glistened like gold, interrupted only by a pair of pointed cat’s ears, as black as pitch. No silver moonlight reached him. She had never seen him at the gatherings she had tended before, so he must be one of the few who only came when the moon was full, when all the court gathered in celebration.

He stretched out along his branch, and his long, black tail swished mischievously at his waist. With a Cheshire-cat-sized grin, he added, “You are far too beautiful for shadows.”

Marinette, despite her fear, returned the compliment with a curtsy. Manners were everything to the fae. So was truth, so she had to be careful not to lie. “I wait, good sir, for the right time and mark,” she said, “and find you too friendly for such shadows.”

The fae dropped from the tree and gave her a sweeping, dramatic bow. “As the moonlight makes nightmares out of dreams, forgive me, then, for lurking out of sight.”

Her heart pounded in her chest as he held out his hand in an invitation. She wondered if his hand was a binding invitation if he did not speak his offer.

“There’s always more to the night than it seems,” she agreed, and allowed him to take her hand. His hands were smooth and soft, like the pads of a cat’s paw, and even in the dark, his eyes glinted like emeralds. Breathlessly, she finished, “but there’s plenty of joy found in the light.”

“There is enough joy to be found right here,” he said, and pulled her hand up to his lips.

Heat rose in her cheeks, and Marinette prayed her glamor hid it as well as it hid her humanity. “And if that is all the joy you receive?”

The ears in his golden hair seemed to flatten at her words. He straightened but did not let go of her hand. He took a step closer. “Then that joy is in my memory seared, and I shall take my lady’s cue and leave.”

His breath was unnaturally cool against her lips. It was no longer fear that had her heart pounding. Desire and longing curled in her stomach and climbed her spine like a rose in pursuit of the sun. She swallowed it down and reminded herself that she was prey among hunters. She could accept no food nor drink, could not partake of the pleasures of the court unless she was willing to give up all that she was.

“Give as you like, sir, but I may not take.”

He tipped his head and curiosity glinted in those green eyes. She wondered if her warm breath or her refusal to accept a trade tipped him off. But he did not shy away from her, did not slink back into the night nor find another fae and raise an alarm. Instead, his soft, cool fingers found her chin and tipped her lips towards his. “Then just enough to relieve my heart’s ache.”

It was a gentle kiss, little more than his lips pressed against hers—and it relieved no aches in Marinette’s chest. As he pulled away she leaned into him, chasing the kiss until his hand on her chin held her back.

“My lady teases me so unfairly, to try to give me what I may not have.”

“What you gave, sir, was given so sparely. Did you give at all?”

“Then let me give half.”

His wide smile softened into something far more warm and gentle, belying his cool, inhuman lips. He pulled her again into another kiss, this one deeper, slower, but just as gentle. The moment she pushed against him, the moment her tongue brushed against his and she tasted moss and worn leather, he pulled away.

She swallowed hard and gathered her breath. “And will you take my half from me—for free?”

His thumb brushed against her lips longingly. “I can’t take for free.”

“If you will forgive, may I return what you have given me?”

“As my lady may not take, she must give.”

And this time she surged into him, lips crashing into something passionate and heated. She pushed past his cool lips to find his mouth warm and pliant. His hand stayed steady on her chin, but his other hand slid up her back and to the base of her neck. He pulled her into him and it was suddenly hard to remember why she had come at all. She might have stayed there for the entire evening, content to do nothing but this, this, this—until her tongue brushed against the edge of his teeth and she tasted blood.

She drew away, reminded all at once of the danger she was in. His sharp fangs were an unfortunately painful warning about what he was and why she had come.

He shrunk back further into the darkness of the trees, hand pressed against his own lips, fear blooming in those sparkling green eyes. She wondered what the iron in her blood tasted like to a fae.

“I see the forest hides your secrets, too.” It wasn’t just his eyes that betrayed him. His voice trembled, and the words slipped past his fingers almost against his own will. “The darkness is meant to make lies unseen.”

“I have told you nothing that was untrue.” She swallowed down her panic, tempered it with hope. He had not alerted anyone else, had not sent for someone to throw the human from the fae’s celebration—or worse, force her into partaking. “I trust my good sir played no tricks for me.”

He looked away. She did not know him beyond this moment, yet she felt like she knew the shape of every thought that flickered behind those glittering eyes: sorrow, regret, and finally despair as his shoulders slumped and his hands dropped from his mouth to his sides.

“My lady—” but he was interrupted.

“Where is His Highness?” someone shouted from the court.

“Snuck away, no doubt,” someone else replied.

“Then go and find him!” another called.

“He can’t have gone far.”

He looked for all the world like a man standing at a freshly dug grave. He stepped towards her once more and it took all of her willpower stay where she stood. But he did not reach for her again. Instead, he paused beside her, on the edge of the clearing. His voice was still thick with fear, but a smile played on his lips as he met the eyes of another member of the fae court. He raised a hand in greeting, but his voice was low and desperate as he whispered, “My lady ought to leave while she can.”

“I’d be caught before I even began.”

He sighed again, and that taste of despair seemed to press against his shoulders with a fresh force. With the urgency of a man approaching the gallows, he stepped into the moonlight.

At once, the black that cloaked his face and shoulders melted away. The pale moonlight washed him out in pure white. The gold in his hair transformed into silver as his pitch dark ears turned a shade of white far paler than anything that Marinette had ever seen. The soft pads of his hands glinted with finely sharpened silver claws. He seemed to be a moon all his own, reflecting a dimmer light than its source. And as he turned to smile at someone else who called for the fae prince’s attention, she saw his face and gasped.

All the joy and mischief that had drawn her into him were doused. Beneath smears of white powder, his warm, emerald eyes had become cold sapphires that, despite the light all around him, refused to offer even the slightest glint. But that wasn’t the part that terrified her the most.

More horrible than the dramatic and tragic change that swept through him was the glowing lavender outline of a butterfly’s wings, shining on top of the pale white dust that streaked his face. It was the very mark she was looking for, revealed in the moonlight.

Marinette turned and fled.

✦✧✦✧

Marinette did not dare return to the fae court again. She shut her earrings into an iron box and buried it beneath the floorboards of her kitchen, near the hearth. She tried to put the night from her mind entirely, but like so many had before her, she often found herself sitting at her window and staring out at the stars twinkling over the forest with a sense of longing in her chest.

She had tasted the revelry of the fae court, and it had left a hunger in her bones.

She had sobbed that first night, alone in her bed. She had cried for her own foolishness for flirting with and kissing a fae, for her regret over what she would have to do to him, and pity for that poor boy and the unbearable weight that he walked with.

She had imagined facing the monster-maker so many times before. She had never imagined him heartbroken and mournful.

Her tears dried eventually, but she could not shake him from her mind. When she worked in her garden, she caught herself stopping to stare in the direction of the forest. At night, when she joined the rest of her village by the bonfire, she found herself listless, unable to take pleasure in the company of her friends.

The boy next door asked after her health one afternoon, and when she told him that she was fine, he asked her who she was so in love with then.

Marinette had very sharply told him that she was not in love with anyone. This wanting and longing in her chest wasn’t love. It was a curse.

The only way to be free of the curse would be to kill the fae. And she had to kill him. He had tormented the humans and stripped them of their sense of self for his own amusement. She convinced herself that she had imagined his sadness, that she had merely been projecting her own heartbreak onto him. She was hunting a monster, so she made him a monster in her mind and waited for the next full moon, for his return to the court, where she would strike on sight.

But she could not stop running her tongue over her teeth.

When the day came, she dug up her earrings and her iron dagger. She carried her weapons to the edge of the forest, though she couldn’t say that her glamor would offer any protection at all. He knew her mask. He knew her blood.

The sky softened into orange as the sun began to eclipse the horizon. She stood at the edge of the woods, uncertain if the way the shadows shifted was the wind or something more unnatural. Unnatural or not, she had to go in.

But as she began to fasten in her earrings, she saw those glittering green eyes, the ones that had appeared in her dreams as often as the cold sapphire ones, and she froze in place.

He did not step out of the shadows, but he approached, hands lingering on the bark of each tree he passed.

Marinette tightened her grip on her dagger and lifted her head. If he had come to kill her now, then all the better. She would not have to worry about the court witnessing his untimely end.

“My lady,” he said with a smile, though she was wearing her plain work clothes, still streaked with dirt from the gardening she had done that day, “how you’ve lingered on my tongue. Your blood and its taste bind my emotions, the memory of you aches in my lungs, and I long for naught but your devotion.”

As he extended a hand to her, she searched his posture for a threat, for a coil in his shoulders before he struck or the glint of his fangs before he lashed out, but she saw none. He was as eager and playful as he was in her memory. Perhaps more desperate and forward.

She tightened her grip on her dagger. “You think you can simply woo me back into your arms? You tell me you’ve pined for me, you’ve ached for me, and you think I’m supposed to care? I know what you are, what you’ve done to the humans who’ve dared to come to you vulnerable and lost. You’ve made them monsters, and you’re going to pay for it tonight.”

The sun slipped over the horizon, and her shadow disappeared into the darkness of the trees. All the bravery Marinette had felt as she had promised to end this fae vanished with the light. She could see the glint of the moon just over the treetops, but it had not reached her yet. They had this single moment in the dusk before the moonlight would wash him out again, before she would have no choice but to kill him.

“If it’s the monster-maker that you want,” he said slowly, “then let me offer my assistance. It’s not only humans my father haunts. For his fall, I’d trade my own existence.”

Marinette blinked at him, surprised by such a statement. It had not occurred to her that the mark of the butterfly would have shown itself not because he was the fae controlling the curse, but because he was as much a victim as her people. Her heart almost leapt for joy at the idea. How wonderful, to not have to kill this young fae, to have an answer that would let her have everything that she wanted.

But her head had always been stronger than her heart. Marinette lifted her dagger and pointed it at his chest. The silver moonlight crested over the treetops and glinted off of the dark metal.

“The fae may not lie,” she said, “but you can twist your words to tell the truth you want. Why shouldn’t the monstrous fae prince convince a human to help him kill the fae king? You get the crown and a target to pin the murder on. You think I want you so badly that I’d give up my humanity to destroy for you? I won’t let you trick me the way you tricked the others.”

He frowned and stepped closer, out of the shadows and into the point of her blade. As the moon crested the treetops and its light washed over him, every bit of black was whisked away by pure white. His emerald eyes once more turned cold and sad. The white cat ears in his silver hair went flat.

“Then kill me, my lady. Death is preferred, when weighted against carrying this curse. Trust that I would rather die by your sword than live by his word. I know nothing worse.”

The blade trembled in her hand. He pressed himself against it and a pinprick of blood bloomed in his chest. It continued to spread, staining the white dark and black, as if confirming his claim that only death would let him take back what the moon had stolen.

There would never be an easier chance. It was the moment she had dreamed of and dreaded for the last month. She couldn’t believe his words, couldn’t believe that he was as cursed as the monster-maker’s human victims.

But when she looked into those cold, empty blue eyes, she knew the truth. She had never imagined his sadness. She knew it now better than she had known it before, because now she knew what it was to want someone.

She lowered her blade.

His shoulders slumped, though she couldn’t be sure if it was with relief or regret.

“Then what else would my lady have of me?” he asked.

“All of you,” she whispered, and his ears perked up, “if you’d have all of me.”

He reached for her again and this time, she took his hand. He pulled her back into the shadows and she was happy to go, happy to let the darkness wash over them again and to press their lips together once more. This time, when she pushed into his mouth, he opened eagerly for her.

He had tasted her fruit and longed for it again in defiance of all else. She complied, and ran her tongue along his teeth. He moaned as her taste filled him once again. If the iron in her blood burned him, he did not flinch, but welcomed it, surging up into her for more.

There was more to do. There was still an iron dagger, now abandoned at her feet, and still a monster-maker to hunt, but for the moment, all Marinette wanted was this, this, this. And she would take it as long as it was given to her.

#miraculous ladybug #ladynoir #ml #ml fic #ml fanfic #miraculous ladybug fanfic #miraculous square dance 2023

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angelguk · 3 years

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so much happens in this it’s such a huge mess omg. the return of the angst plot line of jock!jk (aka pretty boy universe please check ml for the other parts). this time featuring: Angst (with a capital A), miscommunication that makes you want to scream, chayoung’s true nature, namjoon catching stray bullets (figuratively), and lucas being a gem. also jungkook is somewhat semi-violent in this one (in terms of thoughts and some actions but no one gets hurt) so please don’t read this if that makes you uncomfortable. in general just an angry heartbroken boy. also oc is finally doing something good. listen to mess it up by gracie abrams + if we were made of water by banks + i will by mitksi + save room for us by tinashe. roughly 4.2k

titled — old friends, new foes

The spring scavenger hunt is an enormous success, all thanks to your careful planning and Bina’s much needed support. While you excelled at organising, you heavily lacked in the social aspect, something Bina fulfilled with smart marketing and a bright personality that drew in a larger crowd than you thought would appear. It's partially expected–she was head of the Events Committee for a reason–but it felt a little strange to lean onto her instead of Jeongguk. He was the one who usually spearheaded that side of your event plans, more than anyone else, and while planning this one you felt his absence tenfold. Like a gigantic gaping hole excavating through your chest and leaving behind a lonely hollow.

That hollowness surges when you spot him meandering towards the third location at the university courtyard, his fingers tangled with Hyeri’s. You slowly turn away from them, heart aching with each thud against your ribs, hoping they haven’t seen you. Maybe Bina sees the fall on your features because she’s gently tapping your arm, leaning in with a graceful brush of her amber locks over her shoulder.

“Are you okay?” Her voice is soft, feathering through the late afternoon breeze to reach your ear.

You’re about to say it, the pained ‘I’m fine' that had become a part of your routine. But then you hear him, loud effervescent laugh hitting the air, the sound striking your false demeanour down. Your vision blurs before you could choke the word out and suddenly Bina’s arm is firmly around you, guiding your heavy feet far away from the presence evoking your pain.

“I’m fine,” you finally manage to choke up, folding into yourself in the middle of a bench. She stares at you for a moment, before taking a deep breath and sharply clicking her tongue.

“You’re not.” Her eyes are gentle despite the harshness of her words. “I know this isn’t my place, but I do know why you stopped coming to committee meetings.”

The scoff you let out is instinctive. The jarring sound is a stark contrast to the action of your hand hurriedly wiping away the stray tears staining your cheeks. Of course, you’d avoided committee meetings – why the hell would you go when the president was your ex?

“And,” Bina continues, pointedly ignoring your reaction. Her hand reaches out moving to intertwine your fingers. You focus on the image of her sharp stiletto shaped nails that glitter under the glow of the sun settling on your lap instead of the thumping of your heart as she speaks. “Judging from what I’ve seen, it hasn’t been easy for him either. I know you’re probably thinking that you were the only one who cared about him–about your relationship, but I’m pretty sure he did too. So it’s perfectly okay for you to feel like this, no matter how long it’s been.”

Two months and three weeks, you mentally add. A lifetime and a single blink simultaneously.

“I didn’t need to know that,” you say, hoping to kill the hope fluttering in your heart. Bina squeezes your hand instead and gives it wings.

“You did. Also, Jeongguk’s kind of an asshole. Sorry if it’s too soon.”

It’s not, and you can’t help the tiny laugh that escapes from your throat. You glance up at her then, suddenly glad for the dazzling glossed coated smile that greets you.

“But,” she continues. “You’re doing the wrong thing too. I know you’re dating Lucas and it’s not fair to him when you’re still hung up on Jeongguk.”

“I know,” you admit. “And I’m going to fix that.”

She beams. “I hope you do. Don’t let him make you pick the wrong choices. You deserve better than that.”

Perhaps it was her words of reassurance that aided in getting you out of the house tonight. (Or it was Bina gingerly whacking your arm and insisting you needed to reward yourself for working hard). But a minuscule part of you is glad you heeded her advice. The music is louder than the words bouncing around your head, sound shoving your sorrow down as Chayoung hands you another drink. Everything is fast, bodies shifting wildly around you and the faint sound of a beer pong game capturing everyone’s attention. For a moment, you begin to forget. But then Lucas’s looming head materializes before you and guilt swarms your heart.

“Hey,” he offers, deep timbre sinking into your bones. You might just throw up.

You haven’t told him about Namjoon. You can’t bear to. But there’s something else more urgent that you need to say to him first.

Chayoung watches through narrow eyes when he leans forward to brush a light kiss on your cheek. He’s so sweet it makes your mouth turn sour.

“Haven’t seen you around,” Lucas continues, slipping beside you. A steady hand settles at the base of your back. You almost jolt away.

Chayoung’s face is hard, expression carved out of marble as she stares you down. You know she’s mad at you, rightfully so. Even Sieun hadn’t said anything for a few days after you’d told them about Namjoon. You were mad at yourself too. For what you did–for what you need to do to fix it.

“Been busy. Planning the scavenger hunt and all,” you say, gaze glued to a random lamp at the opposite side of the room. It’s easier than staring at Lucas, who’s still so warm and bright. Practically glowing like he’s got the Sun living in his chest.

You hope you don’t leave him cloudy.

He weaves his hand into yours, a pleasant noise escaping past his lips. “I know. Great job, by the way. You should be proud.”

Chayoung slinks away at that, the glower on her features burning your blood. You haven’t told anybody yet because you don’t want their advice on this. But you do need to end things with Lucas. It wasn’t fair to him. Yet, it feels nearly impossible when you tear your eyes off the fading figure of your friend and glance up to find him staring at you with the softest smile.

All you do is hurt good people.

It’s a terrible realisation but it forces you to croak out the words, a rip forming inside of you when that soft smile slips off his face at the sound of them.

“We need to talk.”

But the second they are out you feel something in the world click into place like you’re finally making the right steps toward the correct path even though you need to step on the hearts of others to get there.

Lucas lets you lead him in silence, the weight of it sinking onto your shoulders when he closes the door behind him, the music giving way to the noise in your head. When he turns to face you, watching apprehensively as you perch yourself at the edge of the bed in the room, it all begins to feel like deja vu. Except you’re on the other side.

“So,” you start, eyes on the wall. The feeling of the mattress dipping as Lucas descends beside you pulls your gaze back to him, heartstrings thrumming when the moonlight leaking through the opened curtains pools into his eyes.

How could Jeongguk have done this?

“We need to end this,” you say, realising as the air leaves your lungs that he did it like this. Like he needed to breath. It feels like cutting an anchor off your ankle, head breaking through furious waters to finally find air.

Lucas pauses, blinking slow. You don’t fill the emptiness with more words, afraid you’ll pour salt into an open wound. He lets what you said ruminate, eyes shifting to the scene around you. A random room, bathed by the glow of the room, and two hearts opposing each other–one already poised to leave. One that was never really there.

“Why?” It’s said lowly. You know why. You owe him this admission, after dragging him around on a sinking ship. But the words refuse to part from your throat.

“I’m not right for you,” you say instead, hoping he understands. By the flicker across his eyes, he doesn’t. “Like,” you try, your eyes dropping to where his heart lies. “You’ve got a lot of good in you and I don’t. We don’t match.”

Lucas cocks his head, staring at the ceiling. And this his gaze careens to you.

“You don’t think you’re a good person?”

“Well–” you splutter. But Lucas isn’t having it.

“You’re a lovely person, Y/N. With a lot of good in you too. You are kind of shitty for this though but every good person does shitty things.” It’s said factually like he needs you to understand this.

“I know that–”

“You don’t. You put yourself down too much. Why do you think Jeongguk loved you?”

Oh. That seizes that air from your chest, Lucas’s gaze slamming into your own with a surety that stings.

“Why do you think I like you?” He adds. You don’t know what to do, nervous system spazzing at this information assault. “And I know why you want to end this. You could have said it. I understand, though. The two of you did fight together so well.” He gets up then, towering like a God dictating judgment. “I didn’t expect you to stop loving him immediately, you know.” He’s near the door now, not fleeing but parting a new path. There’s a weird smile on his lips, like the forging of his steps hurts as much yours does. It’s like it’s been hung there, not pulled from his heart like you’d grown used to seeing.

“What did you expect?” You can’t help but ask.

He pauses, the door half-open. You could tell him to shut it, you could tell him to stay.

You don’t want to.

“That maybe one day you would love me more than you loved him,” Lucas whispers. He sees the fall on your features, knows the answer on your lips instantly. “But it’s okay that you never could.”

And then he’s gone, honey blonde hair swallowed by the crowd even with his impossible height. He leaves the door ajar, the music seeping into the room. But this time your head is louder, surer. Because Lucas just let you know something you weren’t even aware of yourself. There was no room for anybody else except Jeongguk. And it truly wasn’t fair to offer him your heart when it was half a world away.

—

Half a world away is apparently glaring at the shrubs flanking the back garden. Jeongguk doesn’t know who’s house this is. He doesn’t care either because at the moment he’s considering burning it down. He’d just seen you amble into a room, Lucas trailing behind like a stupid dog and his heart clenching hard in his chest. It took two seconds after the door shut for him to shove Hyeri off his lap and mumble something about needing air.

(What he needed was you).

The coolness of the night ebbed at his boiling blood, but nothing could ease the ache.

“You look like you need a drink,” Chayoung’s voice feels alien, creeping up his back. He turns to look at her, a polite comment on how he’d like to be left alone hanging on his lips. She interrupts it by handing him a cup, a tender smile gracing her lips. Jeongguk accepts it with a shrug, hoping the burn in his throat will be a distraction. It isn’t. But he forces another sip down as Chayoung slithers outside too, the room behind her glowing as if the building was on fire.

What store sells matches and lighter fluid in the middle of the night? And won’t ask incriminating questions?

“Why the long face?” She asks, peering at him from the corner of her eye.

Jeongguk shrugs, the words in his head refusing to form into understandable sounds.

“Hyeri not cutting it?” Chayoung murmurs. His eyes snap to her, but she’s not staring at him, her gaze fixed on the dark sky.

“What do you mean?” Jeongguk is baffled say the least. He thought his act with Hyeri was a little bit more solid proof. He liked her–somewhat.

Chayoung turns slow, almost sinisterly, a glint in her brown eyes that unsettles him. “I just don’t think she’s in your league.”

The scoff that leaves Jeongguk’s throat burns. He hated that stupid idea of leagues. You should like a person for who they are, not where they stand in foolish social hierarchies. But Chayoung reads his response wrong, suddenly impossibly close, a stray finger trailing along his shoulder. Her nails are talons. He shudders, trying to hide it by leaning away. Chayoung just leans closer, alcohol tainted breath grazing his own. For a moment, Jeongguk considers fleeing back inside to come ask you to collect your drunk friend (a perfect excuse to finally say something to you after months of radio silence) but then he remembers that might potentially end with him walking into the room and finding you with Lucas’s tongue down your throat.

And that would suck. A lot.

But before he can think of another solution Chayoung’s fingernails are scrapping his neck, leaving his skin prickled.

“But then again, do you seem to always pick the wrong ones.” That bristles him and his eyes are suddenly hard and narrow.

“What do you mean by that?” He spits it out, a spark igniting in his chest when Chayoung shrugs. The smile on her face disgusts him.

“You know what I mean.” Her finger is sliding down his shirt and Jeongguk feels branded even through the material. “When you look like this, running around girls like that is honestly a little sad.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He’s hoping he’s hearing this all wrong. That she’s just drunk and acting stupid. But when her eyes lift to him he knows she means it. Every word of it.

“You could do better, Jeongguk. So much better.”

“Chayoung you need to shut the fuc–”

Her lips taste like vodka and cherry lip balm, which is sickening because that’s what you taste like–sans the vodka. Cherry lip balm was your brand. It always was, you’ve got like five of them scattered around your room and a couple more hidden in Jeongguk’s. He recoils instantly, acid climbing up his throat as his hands find something–anything to push away. What he finds are Chayoung’s shoulders and when he pushes he pushes hard. They break apart and the floor beneath Jeongguk cracks wide open, his head spinning violently.

“What the fuck is your problem?” He doesn’t know what else to say, the circuits in his brain frying. Chayoung’s tongue skips over her lips, now wet and a little plush from the force she used to slam her mouth into his.

“Showing you that you can do better.”

He blinks, taken a large step back when Chayoung moves forward, a little sway in her feet.

“You’re drunk and acting crazy. I think I should call Y/N to com–”

“Oh fuck Y/N. Such a whiny bitch. Do you really think she deserves you? After all the shit she’s put you through?” Chayoung’s eyes feel like knives, sharp and striking deep with every word.

“Aren't you her friend? What the hell is wrong with you?” Jeongguk needs this to de-escalate. Chayoung wants to throw gasoline on an open flame instead.

“No–what’s wrong with you, Jeongguk? Moping around for a girl who never realised what she had when it was right in front of her? C’mon now.”

“You seriously need to shut the fuck up. You’re not gonna talk about her like that in front of me.”

“Why not? Cause you still love her? Even when she’s fucking Lucas?”

That stings, his heart bursting in his chest because Jeongguk didn’t know you were sleeping with him. He thought it would just be kisses or something. Not that–not Lucas touching you like he used to. But then Hyeri’s face flashes in before his eyes and he wilts. He can’t blame you for anything, not when he’s been doing the same horrible shit to you. And that makes him pause, the sudden realisation that he’s been hurting you smashing into his head. He didn’t want to hurt you–never. Not even if you were hurting him. He just needed a distraction, something to ease you off his mind. And maybe you did too, but all left you both with was gaping wounds that would never heal. And with other people hurt too.

God, this was a mess. And it dawns on Jeongguk that’s he’s made the worst mistake he’s ever made in his life.

“You should hate her,” Chayoung continues, venomous.

“I don’t,” Jeongguk returns, voice levelled. All he hates right now is himself. And Lucas (which is fair). Chayoung blanches, shaken by his firmness. “I really don’t, in fact, I need to talk to her. Right now.”

He moves fast, foot already past the threshold when Chayoung speaks again, her words aimed with intent to kill.

“She kissed Namjoon.”

He feels the nerves in his legs still instantly, before they nearly give way entirely, his grip on the door frame the only thing holding him up as his heart tears out of his chest.

“I thought you should know,” Chayoung adds. And he hears it then, that vile smugness in her voice. She’s lying. She has to be. You wouldn’t do that to him. And he says that, storming back to Chayoung with his chest ripped open, his body thrumming with barely concealed rage. And fear. Jeongguk feels so scared right now because if you did that means everything he felt–everything he feared–could be true.

“She did.” Chayoung is immovable, standing tall and staring him down. “I’m not lying to you. Go ask Namjoon if you don’t believe me.”

Which, Jeongguk realises as his eyes fall shut that is going to absolutely do. And possibly break a nose in the process. He turns, trying to blink away the blurriness in his eyes, before Chayoung stops him with a single sentence again, this one said a little softer.

“Jeongguk,” she starts, eyeing him down, her brown eyes aflame under the moonlight. “I mean it when I say she doesn’t deserve you.”

—

Someone is attempting to break down Namjoon’s door. Which is bizarre considering it’s almost three in the morning. He has to drag himself out of the comfort of his warm sheets to figure out which maniac is attempting to smash through solid wood with only their fists because it seems like they’re almost succeeding.

The maniac in question is Jeon Jeongguk, standing rigid when Namjoon swings the door open, moonlight bleeding over his features. He’s mad, staring at Namjoon like he wished his head was rolling on the ground instead of stationed square on his shoulders. But there’s something else there, doe eyes glossy.

“Jeongguk? What the hell are–”

“You kissed her.”

Everything stills, the two men fixated on each other. Jeongguk is so still he could have been mistaken for a statue. Almost as if he was waiting for the words that would break this moment, ease the tension seizing his muscles, tell him what he wants to hear. Namjoon can’t do any of that. Instead, he sighs, a muted, “Oh”, floating from his lips.

Jeongguk snaps the second he realises it’s true.

“Oh? You kissed her and all you have to say is oh?” Hands are digging into the soft cotton of his nightshirt and Namjoon’s feet are no longer on the ground. He’s apparently levitating, lifted solely by this hurt angry boy invading his apartment. His back hits the nearest wall with a thud that vibrates through his bones. When the hell did Jeongguk get this strong?”

“Whoa–relax,” Namjoon wheezes, his strong fingers guiding Jeongguk off him. But heartbreak tends to be enough fuel because Jeongguk pushes back with an ease that unnerves him. “Jeongguk, you seriously need to relax. Let go of me and we can talk about this.”

“Why did you do it?” That is what he gets in return. Jeongguk’s voice wavers, coloured a violent red in the velvet of the night.

“I didn’t do anything,” Namjoon returns, the words delivered gingerly.

“No–no you did. You kissed her. You–”

“She kissed me, Jeongguk. And I can seriously explain all of it if you just relaxed and we talked about it–”

“No, she didn’t. She wouldn’t do that to me–she wouldn’t.” And Oh God No, Namjoon thinks he just heard the sound of a heart breaking. It sounds like a weird mangled bird collapsing from the sky and its wing hitting the ground with a funny wet smash, fragile bones snapping like twigs.

Jeongguk’s fingers peel from his shirt and bury themselves in his hair, yanking at the cropped strands as his face twists.

This is far too much emotion for a single person to deal with in the middle of the bloody night.

“Hey–hey, calm down. It was a mistake, I promise you. She was just feeling a little all over the place and made a bad choice–”

“No–that’s the fucking point! She made a choice. She chose you.” Jeongguk’s staring at him in a way that hurts, like he’s attempting to transfer all the pain that’s writhing through his body into Namjoon’s from sight alone.

“What? What are you talking about?”

Jeongguk is frantic, almost like he’s trying to stop himself from pouring out onto the floor. A flood barely contained. “She chose you first. I was there–I was always there. But then you waltzed in and she saw something in you that she didn’t find in me and she chose you.”

Namjoon cocks his head, staring hard at Jeongguk’s round wide eyes, slowly coming to realisations that he was surrounded by idiotic people.

“I still have no idea what you are talking about, but I have to ask, don’t you remember a single thing I told you the last time we spoke about Y/N? You’re the reason we broke up.” That halts him and Namjoon takes that as a moment to press onward, somewhat tired of being dragged into this awkward mess. “And I’ll say this in the nicest way possible but you’re an idiot if you think Y/N wouldn’t pick you over me any day–over anyone really. I could be drowning and you could have a scrapped knee and she’d check on you first. We broke up because I realised I was just a placeholder until she felt brave enough to tell you she liked you. You were rather intimidating for her to approach. Or have you forgotten your track record of girls? It wasn’t easy for her–especially when she was risking losing her best friend.”

The silence that follows aches, Jeongguk’s eyes flashing like he never considered that in the first place.

“But why the other guys then? Why not just tell me after you?”

Namjoon’s going to bang his head into the wall. “You’re her best friend–what about that are you not getting? What if you didn’t like her back and it ruined the most important relationship in her life?”

“But I did–I always liked her.”

“No,” Namjoon nearly groans out loud. “You didn’t. If you liked her you wouldn’t have fucked Chaerin in the back of your car and then gone to report it to Y/N with a grin on your face.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Namjoon returns. “Oh. That’s the exact day we broke up too. Such a stupid fight because she was crying and that’s when I put two and two together and realised I was never going to take precedence over you.”

“I didn’t know I was hurting her,” Jeongguk murmurs, almost distraught.

A strangled noise erupts from Namjoon’s throat. “You’ve hurt her a lot more than you’ll realise.” But the second he says that and Jeongguk’s face twists into something unrecognisable he wants to take them back.

“She’s too good for me. Maybe we are better off apart.”

“No, no. You’re so wrong actually. This break-up thing has been miserable to watch and I’m not even in the centre of it. I’ve just caught a bunch of stray bullets.”

“You’re not getting me,” Jeongguk’s eyes swing to him. “She came to you at the end of it all. Maybe we are better with other people. Maybe you’re better for her.”

“She came to me because she missed you. She just needed someone to lean on during your absence. I wouldn’t have to do that if you were there. You know, you should just talk about this with Y/N.”

“I can’t, she’s happy with Lucas. I think.”

Namjoon wants to bang both your heads together so bad. Maybe finally the fact that you love each other would get through your thick skulls then.

“She doesn’t,” he says, instead. “And I know that for a fact. You should really go talk to her. Figure this whole mess out. And also finally get out of my apartment.” Jeongguk’s gaze withers. Namjoon shrugs in return. “It’s the middle of the night and I have a meeting in the morning. I really need to sleep.”

“Oh, fuck, I’m sorry.” He’s so meek like this, nursing a shattered heart and a confused head. It’s slightly jarring to the image he usually presents, so self-assured and unfazed by whatever gets thrown at him. Never exposed like this, every emotion he holds inside displayed across his face.

“It’s alright. Just think about what I said and talk to her. Honestly. Not skirting over shit like the two of you tend to do. Okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, trailing towards the open door. Namjoon had registered a breeze billowing in, but he’d completely missed the fact that the door of his apartment was swung wide open. Jeongguk abruptly stops just as Namjoon’s sense of bearing returns, turning to face him with his face pulled down by shame. “I’m really sorry. For this whole thing. I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that I was just–”

“I get it. You love her and it feels like she’s slipping from your fingers. Just don’t do that shit again and stop trying to push her away. I’ll say it again–you were always her first choice.” He sees it then, a slight flutter through Jeongguk’s chest. A broken bird mending.

“Yeah,” Jeongguk breathes. “Thanks.”

Namjoon sighs, offering a tight smile and shutting the door firmly when Jeongguk finally drifts out. He needs a drink before he hits the sheets again. A strong one.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #bts x reader #jungkook drabble #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenario #jungkook scenarios #i hope this redeems jj!jk in your eyes #i might rewrite this who knows

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hlizr50 · 3 years

Text

The Raven and the Songbird

Chapter 1

Read on AO3

The warmth of the sun wasn’t unwelcome. Azriel was the angel of death, wreathed in tendrils of darkness and mystery, but the summer sun was a balm to him. The light glittering off the stone of the training ring – the need to shield his eyes from the brightness – was a reminder that the Hewn City wasn’t his home, not his life. The light was a breath that whispered of life and potential.

He crossed his arms as he observed Cassian – brother in all senses of the word, save by birth. The sheen of sweat shimmered on his bare back as he paced around the ring observing the trainees, offering corrections verbally. And if that didn’t fix the errors he would ask permission to show them, to physically move their bodies to make the adjustment. That simple question was the reason so many more of the priestesses had chosen to join them in recent months.

Azriel scowled.

It was fucking disgusting that something so simple as consent was considered such a grand gesture. But it was a courtesy that hadn’t been granted to many of the females here.

It hadn’t been granted to her.

Gwyn.

His shadows danced over his shoulders at the mere thought of her. He needed to get that under control.

He had let his gaze slide to the priestess – the Valkyrie – too many times already. She glowed in the sunlight, even without the perspiration now dampening her face. It had reddened with her effort, but also from the many days they’d spent baking in the summer heat. The color suited her.

No matter how hard he tried, especially in the past two weeks, his attention always turned to her. She moved with such grace, her long legs strong and swift. The leathers fit her differently than they had a year ago – her body had changed. Lean cords of muscle had developed where nothing had been before. She had never been frail – he would ever use a word like that to describe her – but now she was…

Cauldron.

The Spymaster shook his head, willing his writhing shadows not to follow the dangerous path of his musings. He should not desire her. He didn’t deserve that bright spark that had begun to illuminate the male underneath the death and terror. He didn’t deserve her for the simple fact that death and terror and nightmares were what he was. But there was also the unspoken thing between them. The thing he’d done. The reason for the tension these past days and the reason he kept all of his leathers on under the blazing summer sun, relishing in the distraction of his discomfort.

Her eyes still haunted him.

The hurt that had dimmed Gwyn’s bright ocean gaze had nearly brought him to his knees.

Azriel hadn’t been party to the conversation, and he didn’t know how it had come about that Gwyn and Elain were both in the library, in the House, at the same time, in close enough proximity for Elain to notice the delicate necklace that hung from the priestess’ long, regal neck.

All of the satisfaction he had felt whenever he saw that gold chain tucked under her leathers or when she idly twisted the pendant in her fingers when she was reading… it disappeared when she had stormed through the dining room, desperate for the door, stopping short when she saw him there. His heart had cracked when he looked up at her.

Those beautiful eyes of hers, wide and glossy, swimming with hurt and anger. And embarrassment, further painted by her flushed cheeks, neck, further down. And still she had held that flower in her fingers, as if she couldn’t bear to let it go.

He didn’t get the time to register what must have happened. She scurried out the door, leaving a lingering breeze that smelled of water lilies and the salt of her tears.

The report he’d been reviewing slipped from his fingers and he made to go after her.

“Don’t you dare.”

It had been a long while since Azriel had felt intimidated, but Nesta’s voice had sounded to him much like he imagined his did when he was deep in the caverns of the Hewn City, pulling information from unwilling sources.

Cold. Measured.

Deadly.

Nesta’s eyes had all but glowed silver with her ire, even with her reduced power.

“What exactly were you trying to accomplish by giving Gwyn that necklace, Azriel?”

All he had done was stare back at her, unable to find his voice.

“Did you think she wouldn’t find out? Did you think about how it would make her feel when she did? That the treasure she hasn’t taken off for half a year wasn’t meant for her? That she was the afterthought when you couldn’t pursue the one you truly wanted?”

Nesta’s sharp words had opened a crater inside of him. That hadn’t been his intention, not in the slightest.

“That wasn’t my aim at all,” he had murmured. “I… would never want to do that.”

“Well that’s what happened, intentions be damned. Cauldron, Az, I know you didn’t want to hurt her. How could you be so fucking stupid?”

Nesta had left him then.

And he hadn’t spoken to Gwyn since that day, either.

But he still spied that thin gold chain around her neck.

Teal eyes snagged his gaze for a fleeting moment and a grin lifted her pink cheeks. Azriel only nodded and forced his attention elsewhere.

He had been avoiding her. It shamed him to admit it, shamed him even more to see her smile at him just like she had before. He had avoided her at night, as well. If he heard her in the training ring on those nights when darkness chased them both out of their beds he would retreat back into the house and go elsewhere. After all, he had other places he could go to work out some pain and aggression. He would not force Gwyn to relinquish the one safe space she had away from the Library.

He missed her, missed those nights where they understood each other without speaking, but bantered anyway. He missed sparring to the point of exhaustion so they could both find the rest they so desperately needed. He missed the nights where they didn’t train at all… when Gwyn just needed to breathe in the air and settle her mind and let the moonlit breeze dry her tears. Those nights she allowed him to just exist with her, silently support her. She’d trusted him enough to be there in those moments, to let him see beyond the vivacious young priestess with the irreverent humor and easy smile. She’d trusted him enough to let him see his darkness mirrored in her own.

He couldn’t imagine she would trust him with that now.

“Alright, ladies, that’s all for today.” Cassian’s voice broke him out of his reverie. “Take time to stretch and cool down. And hydrate. You’ve all been doing a lot of work out in this heat.” The training ring descended into female chatter and the sounds of clattering weapons being put away as the trainees were dismissed. Azriel saw the glint in his brother’s eyes and steeled himself as the general stalked up to him.

“You know, when I asked you to help with the Valkyries last year the expectation was that you actually train them, not do everything within your power to avoid a certain red-headed priestess.”

“I don’t know what –“

“Are you really going to try to lie to me, brother?” Cassian interrupted his automatic denial. “I can smell the tension on you. And you haven’t corrected anything she’s done in two weeks.”

“Maybe she doesn’t need it,” the shadowsinger ground out.

“Maybe she doesn’t, but that never stopped you before.” The Illyrian general gave him a wry smile and a wink. Azriel stared back at him, unamused at the insinuation – and the truth of it. His friend pursed his lips, the playful gleam in his eyes replaced with a softness that others wouldn’t match with the muscled male, the definition of a warrior. “You should just talk to her, Az. She’s not going to run away.”

“She should.”

“Az –“

“You didn’t see the look in her eyes that day, Cassian.” His voice was bitter and shredded as he returned his attention to Gwyn. Her smile gleamed as she laughed with Nesta and Emerie, copper locks riding the breeze. He felt Cassian’s broad hand fall on his shoulder.

“Brother.” Azriel turned back to him. “I may not have. But I know you, and I know Gwyn. So do you. She cares about her friends, and you are counted among them, at the very least.”

The Spymaster took a deep breath. Perhaps his brother was right.

“Nesta is worried about her,” Cassian murmured. “Says she’s happy but something is off. I can’t really tell, but I know better than to doubt her intuition.” The hand on Azriel’s shoulder squeezed once, then the general left him alone with his thoughts.

What could he say? How could he explain what he’d been thinking when he gave Clotho that necklace and asked her to give it to Gwyn? He had just wanted to make her smile without overwhelming her with his attention. Had she really never taken it off? And why was she still wearing it now?

Had he truly made her feel like an afterthought? Something second best? That guilt made his lungs burn as if he’d inhaled acid.

His thoughts were muddled as he surveyed the emptied training space. He could stand to work out the tension that had built over the training session, so he stepped in the direction of the small basket with long ribbons of material. The least he could do was wrap his hands before punching the padded wooden post into oblivion. At least he had that much sense.

His shadows whirled around him as the painfully familiar voice pierced the midday heat.

“So, are you ever going to speak to me again?”

Tag List: @tealnymph-writes @trashforazriel @secretlovelybeauty @meher-sumedha @imsointobooks @flora-shadowshine @positivewitch

#gwynriel #gwynriel fanfic #gwynriel fanfiction #gwyn x azriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel shadowsinger #fanfiction #ao3

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wolveria · 3 years

Text

Crucible - Ch 8

Pairing: Link x Reader

Prompt: For the Bittersweet Mini Bang!

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, slow burn, violence, mild body horror, lots of whump, angst with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: The Zora City and its people were far different than your hostile experiences in Tarrey Town.

AO3

It was too early in the evening for the royal dining hall to be open, according to your appointed guard, so you waited in one of the adjoining balconies. He must have pitied you when you pressed into the corner, curled up and looking over the city, because he said something to one of the serving staff, and they returned with a bowl of steaming soup.

You gave the guard a thankful nod and didn’t bother with the spoon, drinking down the thin broth in one fell swoop. The blue Zora just stared at you, leaning on his pike as he did so.

His name was Kayden, and he wasn’t as tall as the prince, but he was just as welcoming. Was that how these people were to strangers? Greeting them with open arms and meals freely given?

Either way, when you caught him staring, the Zora fumbled and stood up straight.

“The prince should be down soon,” he said, manners stiff and business-like. “I’m sure he will bring Master Link with him.”

You didn’t comment at his assurances. You didn’t care where the Champion had gone or who he was spending his time with. You were fine on your own. You were used to being alone since you’d awakened.

You spent the remaining time staring out over the glowing city, impressed despite yourself. There was something about the glittering lights that was soothing and inviting, and when you were called to dinner you were almost sorry to leave.

But the view was soon forgotten as the Zora began to serve the meals. Dish after dish were laid before you, soups and beds of plants and heartier meals. Most of them contained various kinds of fish but recalling the lively green and blue creatures that had danced through the current of the rivers, you couldn’t bear to take a bite. Plus, it smelled… dead. You didn’t have any other word for it, but it was foul, and you stuck to the seaweed and algae dishes. They’d even made a dish entirely of mushrooms that tasted like the sea and didn’t give you a sense of unease as the fish did.

The silver table was large and round, constructed so each diner had a clear view of each other, but you tried your best to hide behind the water pitcher. At least it wasn’t like the crowded buildings you were familiar with in Tarrey Town, stuffy and too loud. The architecture of the Zora structures allowed for the outside air to enter through the open windows. The smell of the pine trees and water was never far, and it was strangely soothing on your nerves.

The prince and the Champion carried on discussions of politics and exploration, things you couldn’t follow but were all too happy to not take part in. You found yourself annoyed at their comradery, their voices, their faces, basically their entire presence. Some part of you knew that was unreasonable, but you felt it, all the same.

When the dinner was over and you were fuller than in your entire life, the prince rose and clapped a hand on the Champion’s shoulder.

“You are weary from your travels, so I will not ask you to stay awake any longer. But tomorrow, I will take you both on a personal tour of the city. It would be my honor.”

“Thank you, Sidon.” The Champion gave his friend an appreciative smile. “That’s very generous of you, and we look forward to it.”

He gave you a questioning look, as if checking to see if you’d argue the point. You didn’t. The prince had been right; you were exhausted, and you simply wanted to crawl under your cloak and go to sleep.

You weren’t sure what you had been expecting when it came to your sleeping arrangements, but it hadn’t been this. The prince called it a residential suite, and it certainly looked like an entire house, complete with bedrooms and its own private kitchen, beautifully constructed in the same glittering silvery of the city.

The prince excused himself and wished you both a good night, and after the double silver doors closed with a soft click, you remained frozen in the foyer, as if the tattered and dirty state of your clothing weighed you down too much to move.

Link tried to meet your eye, and when you looked away quickly, he said, “I’ll take the room closest to the doors if you’d like to take the room in the back. It’s the largest and has a beautiful view.”

You stared at the ground long enough to make his smile fade, but still you couldn’t determine what his anterior motive was—not just for the room offer but the entire trip. There was a hidden agenda to all of this, there had to be, and it was only a matter of time until the Champion revealed it.

So, you took the room at the end of the residence, and as soon as you stepped in were overwhelmed in awe at the sheer luxury and decadence. Crystal lights, silver wrought metalwork, glorious stone flooring that looked like the seabed of an ocean, or at least, what you imagined it to be since you had no memory of the ocean past a vague idea.

Finding the washroom where everything was pearl, ivory, and rose gold, you threw off your dirty clothes and drew up a hot bath in the porcelain tub that was roughly shaped like a fish. You scoured your skin and hair, lathering and washing every inch of you until the bubbly water was discolored.

After rinsing off and unplugging the bath, you stepped onto the floor to find it was warm under your feet, not chilly as you expected. The Zora really did anticipate every kind of comfort one could want, and you were still off-balance at the opulence.

Wrapping a peach towel around yourself and using a second towel to dry your hair, you were startled halfway through, catching yourself in the mirror and believing for a moment that the Champion had stumbled in on you. But it was simply your own reflection

You glared at the mirror, scowling at the lines of your nose, the light yellow of your hair and the dark blue of your eyes. So similar to his.

Why? What had you done to deserve this?

The thought was fleeting but left dread in its wake. You didn’t understand where the feeling came from, no more than you understood your inexplicable anger toward the Champion whenever he extended his hand toward you.

You pushed it all aside, determined not to think of him for the rest of the night, which meant dragging your eyes away from the mirror and no longer glaring at it. In hopes of not having to wear your dirty clothes to bed, you were relieved to find the drawers filled with clothing to fit a Hylian. The Zora prince had no doubt prepared for your arrival as soon as you’d stepped into his domain.

You pulled out a gossamer gown that was most likely supposed to be the color of water and instead reminded you of a certain someone’s eyes. Which was a shame: it was a beautiful piece, cool and silky against your skin when you slipped it over your head. Smoothing down the fabric, you lamented the fact you couldn’t take it with you, but you wouldn’t steal again if you could avoid it. Too much attention on you right now as an outsider, but apart from that, the idea of stealing from the Zora was… discomforting.

But being pampered and catered like this, you didn’t know what to do with it. A part of you feared the prince would change his mind, storm into your chambers, and order you thrown into the dungeons. And seeing how the Champion was fonder of his friend than of you, you couldn’t see him intervening as you ended up in yet another dark, forgotten prison.

With a bone-deep shiver, you crawled under the covers. Your worries were immediately forgotten as you clumsily flailed—the bed was moving underneath you.

You sprawled out onto your stomach, preparing for the beast to throw you off, but it had gone still as soon as you had. Experimentally, you pressed your palms down, and the motion of contained liquid rippled away. You carefully rolled onto your back, and the same ocean-like wave rolled under you. You laughed.

You clasped a hand over your mouth. You’d never laughed before. It was… startling. You waited in still silence, afraid someone had heard you. Afraid he had heard you. But all was quiet, and you eventually settled into the wiggly bed.

Expecting to sleep soundly in the soft, weighty blankets, it was disappointing to find yourself staring at the ceiling, too alert to fall asleep. You couldn’t understand it; you’d been resting well the last few nights, even if it had been on the cold hard ground. The fear of someone sneaking up on you in your sleep had been missing for the first time since you’d woken up.

You realized why that was, and you scowled. You were in the middle of a royal palace, in a well-guarded city, and you were safe. You didn’t need the Champion by your side in order to rest.

Tossing off the covers with a huff, you pulled on the velvety light blue slippers next to the bed and tiptoed from your room into the attached kitchen. A quick search of the chilly pantry revealed a prepared dish of some kind of sugar-coated flower petals. You grabbed the entire dish and retreated to one of the large windows, curling up on the sill and looking out over the moonlit landscape. From this angle you were facing east and could see where the city dropped off and the cliffs beyond it rose toward the sky.

You sucked on the candied petals, rolling the sweetness over your tongue as you let your mind wander. You were always at your most calm when you were full, which was probably why you were not calm very often. The first time you could remember your stomach not growling with hunger was the baked apples…

You ground your teeth, mood soured as your mind kept returning to the place you didn’t want it to tread. But where else could it go? You were at his mercy, being taken to a strange castle you didn’t know, and yet, willingly you went. Why?

You stopped gnawing on the candy and sat up straight. There was a figure far below, walking down one of the silver bridges that connected the city to the surrounding plateaus. Squinting and leaning forward, you were certain the dark cloak was familiar.

Waiting until the figure was too far to see, you rushed from your sill and down the wide hall to the closed door of his chambers. You raised a hand, hesitated, and then knocked three times.

There was no response, and when you pushed open the door, the room beyond was empty. The bed covers were crumpled, as if the occupant had been restless for hours before leaving.

You quickly closed the door but remained in front of it, frozen in indecision. Why would the Champion leave in the middle of the night? And why was his destination a massive wall to the east?

Troubled and unsure what to do, you crawled back into bed and pulled the covers up to your ears.

He would be coming back, wouldn’t he? The Champion’s gear had still been in his room, but then, why had he left? Where was he going?

The uneasy questions kept you awake until your opaque windows were tinted pink and the soft footfalls of bare feet padding past your ajar door reached your ears. After his door clicked open and shut, the heaviness of sleep finally pulled you other into restless dreams, all forgotten when you awoke.

Next Chapter

#link x reader #link x glowy hand #link x oc #botw #botw 2 #link fanfiction #my writing #my fanfiction #crucible

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ahsokasshoto · 3 years

Text

gold: a bad batch fanfic

word count: 1,362

content: no romantic relationship, lots of dialogue, nothing but fluff and brubbers being sweet together, takes place between clone wars and bad batch (ps if you recognize the Coleridge homage in this please marry me)

summary: The Batch has some time off and they've decided to take a beach vacation. Echo is self-conscious about his cybernetics, and Tech comforts him through the power of music and brotherly love.

song: gold by fyfe and iksa strings ao3

"It's said that this bay in particular is known for the number of rare specimens which can be observed. I'm hoping we will see an emerald water snake."

Echo sighed, shaking his head as he sat sullenly on his bunk. Tech had been babbling away like this for several minutes, detailing every aspect of their vacation spot. They had some days off and wanted to do something to relax, and everyone was excited about the idea of a beach vacation.

Everyone except for Echo.

"And did you know that there is a species of bioluminescent algae which blooms only once a cycle? If my calculations are correct, we should be arriving right in the middle of this cycle's--why aren't you ready yet?”

Tech interrupted himself as he came into their shared bunk space and saw Echo, sitting on the edge of the bunk, still wearing his blacks as well as a sour expression.

Echo crossed his arms, looking away from his brother. "I'm staying on the ship."

"What?" Tech pushed his goggles up on his nose. "What do you mean? This is supposed to be our vacation!"

"Yeah, well, maybe I need a vacation from all of you," Echo retorted.

Tech rolled his eyes. "Your response is disingenuous, and indicative of a larger problem." He sighed and sat down next to his brother. "What is really going on?" he insisted.

"Maybe I'm just worried about all the water and sand screwing with my cybernetics."

Tech shook his head. "Wrong again. You know I applied a hydrophobic spray and sealant on your cybernetics."

Echo grunted, trying to turn further away from his brother. Tech responded by slowly reaching out, gently uncrossing Echo's arms and turning him back towards himself to look him in the eyes. Echo still cast his eyes down, avoiding his brother's gaze.

"I don't want to be stared at, okay?"

"Oh." Tech immediately looked away, a light tinge flushing his cheeks. "My apologies--"

"I don't mean by you, or our brothers. I mean by…" he gestured around vaguely, "everyone else. All anyone sees when they look at me now are my cybernetics. My battle. My scars. You said it yourself; I'm 'more machine than man' now, aren't I?"

"Percentage-wise, yes," Tech responded quickly, unthinking. Echo merely huffed in response.

Tech's brow furrowed in a wave of thought and emotion. It appeared his words had caused his brother pain, and he was frustrated with himself for being so callous. He was only ever trying to be factual. He sighed softly.

"That was the incorrect response. I did not mean--"

"I know what you meant. And I know what they see."

"Well, who cares what they see? I don't see you as a machine, Echo."

Echo looked up at Tech then, his eyes searching. "What do you see, Tech?" Echo was genuinely asking. Tech could be so forthright about everything but himself; you had to be direct.

Suddenly, as if guided by the force, the memory of a song came floating into Tech's mind.

"If life were a song, you're my favorite line...I wish that you could see you like I see you all the time," he sang softly. His voice was light and airy and sweet. He took Echo's scomp link in his gentle hands, fingers delicately flitting over the cybernetics, absent-mindedly making minor adjustments.

"No damage beyond a brother's delight," he continued, "I wish you knew your scars are precious too, no need to hide."

He looked Echo in the eyes then, a soft smile on his lips. "I see them like gold," he finished in a quiet, reverent whisper.

Echo watched Tech slowly reach out a hand towards his face; felt the fluttering of fingers on his cheeks brushing away the teardrops.

He hadn't noticed he was crying.

"It doesn't matter how anyone else looks at you. Because the people who matter will see you."

Echo released a breath he didn't know he was holding. "The last person to sing for me like that was Fives."

Tech's eyes filled with worry. "I apologize if I brought on any painful memories--"

"No." Echo shook his head, then smiled over at his brother. "They're good memories." He threw an arm over Tech's shoulders; Tech felt Echo's weight shift against him as he relaxed. "Thank you, brother."

They sat there together for a few more quiet moments. "Besides," Tech piped up after a fashion, "if my calculations are correct, which they are, and we are able to witness this algal bloom, I don't think anyone will be looking at you, or any of us. It's said to be quite magnificent."

Echo chuckled at the normalcy of his brother always circling back to the data of it all. And Tech grinned, pleased with himself that he was able to cheer his brother up.

"Alright, alright, I'm convinced," Echo said. "But this algae thing better be worth it."

Tech grinned wider, standing up to leave Echo to finish getting ready. "Oh, it will be. You'll see."

Echo's heart still hammered in his chest as he made his way down to the shore to join his brothers. Hunter and Crosshair were busy with getting a fire going to cook some meat over. Tech wandered up and down the beach with his nose in his holopad, presumably taking notes on all of those rare specimens he'd been talking about. Wrecker, of course, was already splashing about in the sea.

There were other people around as well--some couples, some families with their kids, some friends--but they were all so busy in enjoying the beach themselves, none of them gave Echo and his cybernetics a second thought.

He relaxed a little, silently chastising himself for being so worried in the first place.

"There you are!" Wrecker called to him, waving excitedly from the water. "Come on, let's test that hydro-whatever Tech made! The water's great!"

Hunter and Crosshair smiled at him as he came down the beach. "Food's gonna be ready soon," Hunter told him.

"Oh! Tech, is that one of your snakes? Hold on, I'm gonna try to catch it!" "No, wait, they can be very territorial--" They could hear Wrecker and Tech shouting from the water.

"Please go occupy Wrecker before he does something truly stupid," Crosshair asked Echo. "Alright, alright," Echo chuckled, making his way down towards the water.

"Haha! Got ya! Oh…" Wrecker looked up, eyes wide to see Echo completely covered with water from where Wrecker had splashed, trying and failing to catch one of the snakes. The cool water actually felt refreshing on his skin, and the water rolled right off his cybernetics without getting inside. "Looks like your hydrophobic spray is working!" he called to Tech.

"Of course it is," his brother responded, not looking up from his datapad, but there was a soft smile on his face.

Echo smiled too. The heat of the sun bearing down on the beach was no match for the warmth spreading through Echo, glad to be here and be himself among his brothers.

And Tech was not wrong about the algal bloom. The five clones stood together on the beach as the dusk softly descended down around them, and the beach slowly twinkled to life as the algae gathered at the shoreline began to glow with a delicate golden light.

"They look like stars," Echo whispered, admiring the way the algae dotted across the dark water.

"I told you," Tech replied smugly. Echo could only chuckle and throw his arm around his brother again. Tech pulled Hunter in with his other arm, and Echo threw his other around Wrecker, who dragged Crosshair in as well until they were all standing, arms linked, appreciating this sea full of stars.

Echo smiled too. The heat of the sun bearing down on the beach was no match for the warmth spreading through him, glad to be here and be himself among his brothers.

"Oh, look, look!" Tech exclaimed excitedly as a couple of water snakes began to dance across the surface; from the shore, the brothers watched as they moved in tracks of shining light which glanced off their glossy green forms like glittering flakes when they reared. They coiled and swam and every track was a flash of golden fire.

Tech's words reverberated in Echo's mind, and he hummed softly to himself,

"I see them like gold…"

tags: @itsjml @eyecandyeoz @kratosfan6632466 @archisstically-done @sstarwarsss @aspiring-spellcaster @captxin-rex hmm i can't think of who else to tag so lmk if you want to be tagged on future fics!

#tech fic #echo fic #tbb fic #tbb fanfiction #the bad batch fanfiction #clone trooper echo #clone trooper tech #clone trooper wrecker #clone trooper hunter #clone trooper crosshair #the bad batch #clone force 99 #cf99 #tbb #i cant hear this song without thinking of echo

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redrobin-detective · 3 years

Text

a passing glimpse

heaven gives it glimpses only to those not in a position to look too close ~ Robert Frost, A Passing Glimpse _______________________________

Jack Fenton was eleven and he was an explorer, just like Davey Crockett or Buzz Aldrin. He’d declared so to his mother that very morning but she had simply rolled her eyes and told him to get on with his chores. That’s all his parents wanted him for, chores and his duty to the family. But Jack knew there was so much more out there and he was determined to find it.

Ma had told him never to go into the woods alone but Jack brought his rifle with him so he wasn’t exactly alone. He adjusted his coontail hat and hiked the strap of the rifle higher on his shoulder. Pa would probably be mad that Jack had taken it without permission but punishments and chores were far away, not when there was adventure to be had here and now.

The woods was an okay place to hang out. There were always animals around to sneak up on and study, plenty of trees for climbing and plenty of rock or sticks to fend have pretend battles with. Jack wanted nothing but adventure in his life, Ma said that peace was a blessing but he craved more. He felt like he was brimming with energy, always getting yelled for talking to loud or moving too fast. The woods were wide reaching and deep and yet Jack felt constrained by them, he wanted more.

Jack scrambled over rocks and pretended he was climbing on the moon, in search of aliens. He picked up a stick and batted it against the trunks of trees and acted as if he were engaging in battle with a sworn enemy. Staring up at the setting sun, Jack let himself be pulled away from his dull present. It was only when he realized he couldn’t see his breath fogging anymore in the midwinter air did he realize how dark it had gotten, having snuck up on him suddenly while he’d been daydreaming.

Oh fudge, Ma was probably going to throw a fit when he got back. Pa would just glare at him, radiating anger and disappointment. They’d tell him over and over that they didn’t understand why he felt he had to act out, why he couldn’t just obey them like his sisters? Jack wishes he was better with words to explain that he wasn’t like them, that their world wasn’t his. Only he didn’t know where his own was just yet. He kicked a stone and grudgingly turned to head back.

Just as he was turning, a faded light caught the edges of his vision. It was a soft pulsing glow, like someone had lit a candle somewhere nearby. Only candles didn’t feel cold like this. Jack shivered and pulled his jacket around him tighter, it wasn’t cold enough to snow but the air seemed drastically colder than it had been a minute ago. Ma said that Jack was filled with guts where most boys had sense so of course he had to see. He unstrapped the small rifle from his shoulder but kept it pointed low at the ground like Pa had taught him. Slowly he approached, the strange glow radiating from a particular section of wood. He passed through a particularly thick cluster of trees and saw it.

It was a man, at least that was Jack’s first thought until his eyes took in the rest of the apparition. Though it looked young, it’s hair was white as snow. The ends misted softly in the air, tossing in a gentle wind that existed only for it. Jack could see most of the way through the strange creature who didn’t seem to care that it ought to be on the ground instead of floating above it. It wore something that was black and white, a white cape glittered around it’s shoulders and the black on the inside twinkled like stars. A crown of icy crystal floated above it’s head, perfectly balanced.

Jack had read about kings in his books. He hadn’t cared about the politics of being a ruler or how one person or another was chosen. All he’d really cared about was their graves and the treasures and knowledge they held. Staring at this ghostly king floating peacefully in the woods near his home, Jack realized that graves could hold other things too.

The woods were deadly quiet, it felt like Jack was the only living thing on the planet, like the spirit’s presence had driven everything else off. Everything but Jack who had guts but no brains. He should go, should flee back home but found he couldn’t not just out of fear but wonder too. As weird as it was to say, the ghost was beautiful, ethereal. He was something Jack didn’t understand but longed to. For the first time in his young life, he wanted something in front of him and not some faraway dream.

He leaned forward and the barrel of his rifle scraped against the bark of the tree. The apparition, which had been staring in the other direction turned it’s eyes in his direction. Jack lifted his rifle on reflex when it’s glowing green eyes landed on him. Almost as soon as the gun was raised, he lowered it. Jack can’t say why only that when that ghost looked at him, when he saw that face, he couldn’t bear to point the weapon at it. You only pointed your gun at things you intended to shoot.

“Are you-” the ghost began softly, floating gently forward. While Jack had been content to watch from afar, once the spirit moved towards him did Jack’s deeply buried survival instincts kick in. He turned tail and ran. He ran so fast his coontail hat flew off and landed somewhere behind it. Maybe it would be enough of a gift to stop that thing from chasing him, for trespassing in a place where the living were not welcomed. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, stumbling and staggering over loose rocks or roots but never slowing until the lights of his family’s cabin came into view.

Ma didn’t believe his story and neither did Pa. He did get the lecture he expected and more chores piled on top of the ones he’d already ignored. His sisters teased him for his runaway imagination and asked when he was going to grow up. Lying in bed that night, Jack wondered if what he saw was real. It had seemed real, if not the spirit but the way it made him feel. Like he was a real explorer, not just a pretend one in a silly hat but someone who had stepped just over the edge of the unknown and gotten a taste. And who could stop after just one bite? He needed more, whatever that thing was, Jack Fenton was going to find it again. Even if it took him his whole life. Unbeknownst to him, it would only take him twenty-eight years to see the spirit again, blue eyes twinkling from inside a baby blanket.

Life can take a lot of twists and turns, some of them sharper when one is friends with a Master of Time. An encounter becomes a story which becomes a passion. A passion for understanding leads to a passion for a young woman which results in a blue eyed baby boy. A boy who became a ghost, a hero and a king and let himself be summoned by his timely friend to the deep woods late at night for an important meeting. Neither father nor son understood how deftly they’d been placed, like pieces on a chess board. How a whole life can be made and the best timeline preserved by a passing chance and a passing glimpse.

#danny phantom #jack fenton #someone made big brained tags on one of my posts and I couldnt not write it #really wanted to draw it but cest la vie #I am way to tired to edit this #will do in the morning #literally just typed this shit and am posting it blind #I'll decide in the am if its worth going on ao3

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luxekook · 5 years

Text

ego | jjk | harry potter au

⇥ pairing: gryffindor jeongukk x hufflepuff reader

⇥ genre: harry potter AU, smut, fluff, angst

⇥ summary: in which jeongguk is a cocky lil shit and the reader has to take him down a few pegs

⇥ warnings: 18+, dirty talk, light smut, cursing

The wind whirled around me as I careened towards the glistening goal posts, imagining the opposing team’s Keeper darting back and forth in hopes of blocking the Quaffle that was currently tucked under my arm. I feigned left and the imaginary keeper followed suit. I threw right – Quaffle sailing through the rightmost gold hoop.

I smiled and dove down past the posts to catch up with my own throw. Even though it was still the first week of the new term, I was determined to prove my newly acquired captain-status. Hufflepuff hadn’t had a female captain in ages; and, paired with that, I was only a 6th year.

Luckily, I had a strong team behind me with mostly returning players who I knew would fiercely support me. Us Puffs stuck together. It was inherently in our blood to be loyal as hell to our own, and I thanked Merlin for that every day since receiving the captain’s badge.

As soon as I had hopped on the Hogwarts’ Express a few days prior, I had immediately been swept up in a giant bear hug by Jeong Yunho, one of the Hufflepuff beaters.

“Oh, captain! My captain!” he had dramatically cried, spinning me around. His Dead Poet’s Society reference was not lost on me since I had a muggle parent with excellent taste in movies. Similar reactions from the rest of the team followed suit over the course of the train ride and the Welcoming Feast.

Trials for our only open position of Seeker would take place this weekend with practices immediately starting Monday. We had high hopes for redemption this season after being crushed by Slytherin’s team of goons early on in the Cup tournament.

The Slytherin team’s head hooligan Kang Dokyun led his team with a nasty blend of intimidation and violent tactics. I was convinced that Slytherin didn’t even hold trials and that they just lined up the Slytherin boys, picking out the biggest of the lot. Basically, Slytherin was strong, but slow and slightly uncoordinated. We could beat them by exploiting their weaknesses – of that I was certain.

Ravenclaw would be a bit harder to conquer. Their team played with a level of elegance and intelligence that was so utterly Ravenclaw that even us Puffs got annoyed. Ravenclaw’s captain Yoon Jisoo constructed tactical plays so tricky that she was already recruited to play for Puddlemore next year. Their team was smart, but not completely unbeatable. The Ravenclaws sometimes got so ingrained in their methodical maneuvers that they failed to notice some of their opponents’ counterattacks. That was how they lost the Cup last term to Gryffindor.

Gryffindor was our toughest competition. Winning the Cup last term, the Gryffindor team was a nauseatingly perfect balance between brains and brawn. Their captain Jeon Jeongguk, now a 7th year, was renowned for his tyrannical practice regime that he put his team through. We’d only played Gryffindor once in the regular season last year, and we had held our own for a while until we started getting tired and they didn’t. Seems like Jeongguk knew his shit when it came to conditioning. Something that I was determined to emulate with my own team.

Jeongguk was also the best damn Keeper that Hogwarts had seen in a long time, a fact that didn’t go unnoticed by the looks of the professional Quidditch scouts that avidly attended his matches. He was way bigger than a typical Keeper – extremely tall with broad shoulders and giant paws for hands. However, the only thing bigger than his stature and talent was his fucking ego.

He carried himself like he was the king of the school, and, unfortunately, most people treated him like it. Girls especially flocked to him – mainly for two reasons: 1) Jeongguk was undoubtedly hot, and 2) he held the promise of a rich future. Personally, I cared for neither of those traits considering his appalling personality and pride.

That damned ego would be his downfall this season. I would make sure of it, I thought as I circled around the stadium and then landed to get a drink.

I was definitely above average on the Quidditch talent scale. Holding the current school record for most assists in a season, I considered myself the glue of the Hufflepuff team – a fact that our Head of House obviously agreed with. However, no one really talked about the glue of a team, they talked about the flashy glitter and the gold stars. I was fine with that. Being the underdog was nothing new to a Hufflepuff, and I planned on using that to our advantage this season. Who said Puffs couldn’t be a little devious?

I smirked to myself as I grabbed my broom, ready to get back to practicing. This would be our fucking year.

“Hey,” a deceptively sweet voice rang out from above me, “You mind sharing the pitch? I need to practice.”

My mood soured. I knew who that was. Kicking off the ground, I flew to face him, “Sure thing, Jeon, just stay out of my way.”

It was almost as if I’d slapped him across the face, “Excuse me?” he choked out, “Do I know you?”

Unbelievable. Jeongguk’s head was evidently so far up his own ass he couldn’t recognize opponents he’d been playing for years. “I guess not,” I countered. And with a flick of my ponytail, I took off towards the opposite end of the pitch.

Unfortunately, he followed, “Are you a Gryffindor? If so, you should come to tryouts tomorrow. You’re pretty fast and we need a new Chaser.”

“Not a Gryffindor,” I called out, dipping low to the ground to scoop up my old practice Quaffle, “But I am a Chaser.”

Jeongguk was still tailing me, and I pulled to a stop to face him, “I thought you had to practice?”

He mirrored my position and crossed his arms. I tried (and failed) to stop myself from noticing how his biceps flexed and how a hint of his famed phoenix tattoo curled up his neck. Merlin, even I couldn’t deny he was hot as fuck. The recent summer months seemed to have blessed his skin with a glowing tan that accentuated the warmth of his dark eyes. It also seemed like he forgot what a haircut was as I watched the wind tousle his slightly curling hair.

“I do,” his eyes were narrowed as he cleared his throat, “I just have to make sure you’re not spying for another team.”

All thoughts of him being fine flew out the Owlery as I scowled. I refused to be intimidated by some arrogant asshole, “Did you not hear me when I said to stay on the opposite end of the pitch, Jeon? What kind of self-respecting spy would ask that?”

“You’re a Slytherin,” Jeongguk declared, his tone too sure for my liking.

He was really aggravating me now, and it took a lot for a Puff to get pissed off, “So, just because I have a semblance of a backbone, I’m a Slytherin? You need to brush up on your House knowledge.”

He was quiet, his expression contemplative, his jaw clenched. His eyes were scanning me with an intensity I was not sure I liked. And then he did something I liked even less: “I propose a game,” his mouth twisted upwards in a smirk, “You say you’re a Chaser?”

I gave a slight tilt of my chin in affirmation. He resumed, “Well, then you must know I’m a Keeper.” He paused, grinning wickedly, waiting for me to react to the double entendre. Eyebrows raised at my pointed silence, he continued, “And we both need to practice… So how ‘bout you try to score on me and for every shot I block you have to answer one of my questions.”

This motherfucker right here. I summoned my inner Helga to give me the strength to deal with this Gryffindor prick, “Say I was to agree to this, what would I get if I score on you?”

The laugh I got in response made all thoughts of remaining a kind and patient Puff evaporate faster than a weak Patronus.

He was still laughing when he noticed I looked ready to Avada him wandless, “Okay, okay. What do you want if you score?” He barely got the words out in between chuckles.

“To come to a Gryffindor practice.”

That shut him up real fast, “No fucking way. I don’t need you distracting my players.”

My nose crinkled, “Distracting? I would just be sitting in the stands, you prick.”

His jaw ticked as he rolled his eyes, “You could be on the furthest corner of the pitch and you’d still distract them, jagi.”

“Don’t call me that. And, pray tell, why I would distract them?” Our brooms were now practically touching as we had instinctively moved closer to one another. I could see the sweat glistening on his brow and the shadow of stubble on his jaw. Merlin, he was potent.

“Because,” Jeongguk paused, acting like this was the most obvious answer in the world, “You’re hot.”

I blinked. And blinked again, “Are you serious?” He opened his mouth to respond. “Nope, don’t answer that, Jeon,” I brushed right over his attempt to answer my rhetorical question, “So, do we have a deal or not? If you’re the esteemed Keeper that you clearly think you are, it shouldn’t be a problem for you to block all my shots, should it?”

My words echoed around us. He looked conflicted, but I knew his ego would not let my challenge go, “Deal. Five shots from the penalty mark.”

He flew towards the goal posts, “Looking forward to getting my questions answered, love,” he bellowed back at me.

I mentally flipped him off as I took off after him, clutching my Quaffle.

Sending out a plea to Merlin, Helga and everyone in between, I pulled to a stop at the penalty mark and pondered how I wanted to play this. He obviously thought he would save all five attempts. I spared him a glance and glower as I notice he was slouching on his broom with a lazy smirk, clearly not taking me as a serious threat.

Fine, I would just have to hustle him. He was asking for it at this point.

I got into formation. As much as it would pain me to mess up this shot on purpose, I knew that I had to in order to make my plan work.

Taking off towards the posts, my movement caused Jeongguk to finally move into a somewhat defensive position. I feigned right, doing so in a way too obvious manner. Hurling the Quaffle towards the top hoop, I watched expectantly as he deflected it with just a slight flick of his hand.

“Come on,” Jeongguk laughed, “You can do better than that, jagi.” He flew over to me and when I stretched to take back the Quaffle he now held in his hand, he shifted it out of reach, “Uh-uh, nope. It’s question time. What’s your name?”

How predictable. “It’s (y/n). Now give me the Quaffle.”

“Last name?” Jeongguk kept the Quaffle out of my hands.

“That’s a separate question, Jeon. You never specified that I give you my full name.” It was my turn to smirk as he threw the Quaffle back at me and headed back to the posts mumbling about loopholes and how I must’ve been a Ravenclaw.

I lined back up for the second shot. I had to make this one a little bit better than the last to show that I was trying, but not too much better that he’d be prepared for my final shots.

I ducked down, twisting around to head towards the right post with my full focus on the hoop. I launched the Quaffle. Jeongguk swooped up to catch it in a way that was entirely too elaborate for such a lame throw. He was clearly showing off – an action that I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the meaning behind.

Jeongguk made his way over to me, grinning, “Second question, jagi. Full name, please.”

“(y/f/n) (y/l/n),” I muttered, eyes scanning his face for signs of recognition and hands grabbing the Quaffle away from him.

He looked puzzled, “(y/l/n)? Why does that sound so familiar?”

Before he could think on it further, I pushed his shoulder, “Back to the posts. You got your answer.”

Well, I had attempted to push his shoulder. He didn’t even flinch at my shove. His eyes darted to where my hand now laid on his chest. I removed it faster than a Wronski Feint, trying to ignore the tingles that shot up my arm.

Our eyes connected and his were blazing as his mouth crept into a slow smile, “Like your hands on me.” Before I could formulate a reply, he flew off and I resolved that I would make this next shot as if my life depended on it.

We faced each other. I shifted the Quaffle from hand to hand and took off towards him. I gave him no tells, no feints, nothing. This seemed to throw him off for a split second, but that second was all I needed to send the Quaffle sailing through the bottom hoop.

“What the fuck was that?” Jeongguk yelled as he got all up in my face.

I bit back a smile. “Beginner’s luck?” I quipped, loving how his face had darkened perceptibly, “Don’t worry. I’m sure I can pick up some more tips at your practice.”

Unable to keep my grin in check any longer, I smile widely as he lets out a stream of curses that would make even my old crotchety aunt blush.

We resumed our positions. This time he seemed more alert and watchful. He was getting wary of me, despite my claim that it was just luck. Maybe he knew better after all…

“That won’t happen again, (y/n). Don’t get used to it!” he shouted from the posts.

…Or not.

I took off. Luck be damned. I zigzagged back and forth towards him. Throwing the Quaffle up in the air, I quickly rolled off my broom, sharply grabbing its end and swinging it up to hit the Quaffle mid-air through the center goalpost. A perfectly executed Finbourgh Flick. Regaining my seat on my broom I sailed back to the penalty line and turned back to face Jeongguk.

He looked utterly gobsmacked, “Beginner’s luck? Beginner’s fucking luck? Who the fuck are you?”

I grinned victoriously at his wounded ego, “You know my name, Jeon. Now you can use it at two practices.”

“(y/f/n) (y/l/n), (y/f/n) (y/l/n)… fucking hell, you’re the new Hufflepuff captain,” he gawked at me.

“Bingo, Gryff,” I laughed, “Took you long enough.”

“Why did I think you were a bloke? I would have remembered such a—” he cut himself off, “You hustled me! There is no way I’m letting you into my practices now.”

We were nose to nose now as I responded, “A deal’s a deal. I thought you Gryffindors were all about honor.”

His face was thunderous, “And I thought you Hufflepuffs were all about fairness.”

“We are,” I said plainly, “We just don’t take lightly to intimidation. Now come on, we’ve got one round left.”

A range of emotions moved across his face to settle in a heated look that I couldn’t quite decipher, “Fine, jagi,” his molten gaze darted to my mouth, “Give it your best shot.”

Swallowing hard, I shook my head, trying to clear my brain of entirely too inappropriate thoughts of me and Jeongguk. As much as I attempted to refocus on making my final shot, my attention wasn’t fully there.

And I fucked it up. Jeongguk dove to catch my throw mid-air, and he sped towards me triumphantly, “Slipping already? What was that?”

I blushed. He noticed.

“Come on,” he said, “I need a drink and then you need to answer my last question.”

I followed him to the ground, cursing my treacherous body for reacting so obviously. My subconscious battled:

‘He’s a player!’ the imaginary Dumbledore on my right shoulder boomed.

‘Kiss him. Now!’ hissed the fictitious Voldemort from the other side.

However, all thoughts evacuated my brain at the sight of Jeongguk peeling off his shirt and taking a long sip from his water bottle. My traitorous eyes flew over his torso. I took in his defined abs, his chiseled arms and his fucking beautiful phoenix tattoo that spanned the entirety of his left shoulder, left upper back, and a portion of his neck.

Then I noticed his eyes were watching me right back. And they were all to amused to be innocent… “Are you seducing me?”

He spit out his mouthful of water, laughing, “Why? Is this working for you?”

My eyes now resembled slits as I glared at him, “Is that your last question?”

“No!” His response came so fast I jolted back on impulse, “No, it’s not…”

He trailed off as he prowled towards me. I stepped back. He kept coming. I stepped back further.

“Why are you running, jagi?” his words were too soft and too intense for my liking. I took another step back and bumped up against the stands. His grin in response was predatory as he caged me in between the stands and his body, his arms on either side of my head.

“Nowhere to run now, little Hufflepuff…” he dragged a finger along the hollows of my throat. He definitely felt the rapid pounding of my pulse, his eyes darkening to the point that they almost seemed black.

I glared defiantly at him, refusing to be daunted by his size or his words. He smirked, “Your last question: do you want to kiss me as much as I want to kiss you?”

I stopped breathing. He waited, a look of uncertainty flickered on his face so briefly I almost thought I’d imagined it.

That little flare of vulnerability – that should not have been as appealing to me as it was – helped me to regain some of my bearings, “And how much do you want to kiss me? I need a scale of reference.”

He smiled crookedly as he leaned in even further, lips brushing against me as he whispered into my neck, “So fucking bad.”

His tongue darted across my skin as he dragged it up towards my ear. Biting it softly, he murmured, “Well?”

Fuck it all.

My hands latched onto his shoulders and his head snapped up. Raising to my tiptoes, I kissed him. He let out a rough groan, sounding like I was killing him. His hands slid down my body to squeeze my ass before hoisting me up. My legs circled his lean hips as his teeth caught my bottom lip in a faint bite. My hands tangled in his hair, pulling slightly. His hips pressed into mine, drawing a moan from my lips. He smiled against my mouth.

I nipped his lip now in retribution, but it seemed to only urge him on. One hand came up to remove my hair-tie, flinging it over his shoulder. I made a noise of protest, but he just kissed me harder.

How the fuck was he holding me up with one hand?

I prided myself on being a pretty thick bitch, and he was over here acting like I weighed nothing. My fingernails slid down his back, raking over the hard muscles and feeling how they flexed and shifted under my touch.

I don’t know how long we spent making out against the stands, but soon enough we heard voices coming from around the corner. Ripping my mouth away from his, I jumped out of his embrace, landing on shaky legs.

His arm wrapped around my waist as he steadies me. He was breathing just as hard as me and I could feel his heartbeat racing. I tugged away from him to retrieve my hair-tie from the ground and put my now wild hair back into its ponytail.

I could feel Jeongguk’s eyes on me all the while. I looked at him. His lips were swollen, his hair was a disheveled mess, his neck was displaying a rather nice hickey that I was sure was mirrored several times over on my own neck. A rare feeling of pride shot through me, and as he opened his mouth to say something, I shook my head and placed a finger over his lips.

“I’ll see you at your practice, Jeon.” I placed a quick kiss on his cheek, grabbed my broom and walked off.

As I strode away, I heard him grumbling under his breath: “Everybody warns you about the Slytherins. Nobody fucking warns you about the Hufflepuffs. Fucking hell…”

I smiled all the way back to the Common Room.

#bts #bts smut #bts imagine #bts fic #jeongguk #jungkook #bangtan #jjk x reader #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #harry potter au #gryffindor jungkook #jungkook imagine

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spooderboyandtincan · 3 years

Text

The 12(ish) Days of December

A/N: I intended to write a Hanukkah themed chapter, but unfortunately I suffered some burnout and I couldn’t really start it :(((((( I plan and hope to add on to this in the future, I just wanted to get it out here on time! Happy Holidays everyone!!

Read on Ao3

/ST*RKERS DNI/

“Che palle!” May cried as she and Peter stepped out of the elevator. “Tony, what the hell is that?!”

“It’s a giant teddy bear,” Tony called back from the kitchen. “It’s for you, Pete!”

“Me?” Peter gasped, his face lighting up. He charged toward the ten-foot teddy bear and tackled it. The giant brown bear teetered slightly with his weight but didn’t tip over. “He’s so soft!”

Tony came out of the kitchen with a wide grin on his face. He wiped his flour-coated hands on his pants and tried to give Peter a hug without pushing him off the bear,

“He’s so beautiful!” Peter giggled, wrapping his arms around the bear’s neck. “And huge!”

Tony nodded in a proud, self-satisfied sort of way. Besides being delighted that the boy clearly adored his gift, he now had proof that this was obviously how one should react when presented with a ten-foot-tall stuffed animal. He'd have to take a picture and send it to Pepper.

May tossed her purse on the floor and shook her head at Tony. “As long as you can find a place for it, I’m not complaining,” she chuckled.

“I’ll rent a storage unit somewhere,” Tony supplied, taking a sip of coffee from his Iron Man shaped mug. Tony treasured that mug, which had been gifted to him by Peter several months ago. He never brought it in the lab for fear that Dum-E or U would break it, and he kept it in the cabinet next to his “1# IronDad” mug (also a precious gift from his kid).

He looked back to Peter, who had wrapped his arms around the bear, which was tilting dangerously. “Be careful, kiddo,” he said, biting his lip. But the moment the words got out of his mouth, Peter and the gigantic teddy bear started to topple to the ground.

“Shit-!” he began, darting forward, only to be met by Peter’s giggles.

“Nooo. Leave me. ‘M comfy.” He rolled onto the bear’s big belly and sprawled across it. “This’s perfect,” he hummed, closing his eyes.

Tony and May shared a slightly exasperated yet fond glance. Tony flopped down next to Peter, tucking a curl behind his ear. “Now that I think about it, spider-baby,” he mused, “I’ve got something else for ya.”

Peter perked up and opened his eyes. “What?”

Tony gave him a large grin and ran a hand through his curls. “C’mere.” He wrapped an arm around his shoulders and led Peter to his room.

May sighed. “I swear to god, Tony, if you’re giving him an Audi….” she muttered.

“I’m not!” the man insisted. Peter rolled his eyes and sat down on his bead.

Tony put a warm palm over his eyes. “Close your eyes, bud.”

Peter tried to keep his eyes closed as Tony ran to his own room, tearing through what sounded like wrapping paper and knocking boxes over with no absence of cursing.

Moments later, a small, leather 4x4 inch box was placed on his open palm. He opened his eyes and looked first at the box, then at up Tony, who smiled. May shrugged and gestured to open it.

Inside the box rested a thin, slender watch with a smooth black strap. The face of the watch was rectangular, and when Peter pushed the button on the side it lit up, displaying the time above what looked like a mini arc reactor. It resembled the StarkWatch he was wearing that very moment, except it looked more high-tech.

“A new StarkWatch, specially customized for you, by yours truly,” Tony said. “Your old one looked pretty busted, even though they’re supposed to be indestructible.” Peter snickered at Tony’s gentle jab. “And it’s got a few minor upgrades. You can set the lock screen, for one. And it should be trackable from anywhere in the universe, and I mean everywhere. And you can call me, or May, or Ned or Rhodey or whoever from the top of Mount Everest or the bottom of the Mariana Trench.”

“Wow,” Peter whispered, tracing the sides of the watch before strapping it onto his wrist. “Thank you, Mister Stark! I love it! It’s so cool!”

“What happened to ‘Tony?’” he grumbled playfully, giving his spider-baby a kiss on his head. “I’m glad you like it, buddy. It’s basically the same stuff as your old one, just better.”

Then, to both Peter and May’s surprise, Tony bent down and grabbed a colorful red bag covered in golden glitter. Peter laughed.

“Tony, it’s only the ninth!” May snorted, her eyebrows raised past her hairline.

“That’s because we’ll need these before Christmas,” Tony said wisely. He handed Peter a soft package wrapped in green tissue paper and watched him tear the packaging in half.

“It’s so ugly!” he cried, holding up a garish green sweater. There was a plastic red ball attached to the big reindeer's nose and tiny bells were tied onto the reindeer’s harness. Little snowflakes were patterned all over, and Peter couldn’t help but laugh. “I love it, Tony!” Peter pulled the sweater on and was delighted to find that the fabric was incredibly soft, instead of the unbearably itchy sweaters he had owned in the past. “It’s perfect!”

Tony laughed fondly at his already thrilled kid. “If you think it’s good now, wait till you see this. FRI, lights off,” he ordered.

Peter felt Tony fumble with something on his shoulder, and suddenly the sweater lit up. The reindeer’s nose lit up bright red, the snowflakes began to glow, and, as cliché as it might have sounded, the bells gave a merry jingle as Peter laughed.

“I love it!” He tackled Tony with a hug, relaxing slightly in the man’s arms.

“Good,” Tony chuckled, “‘Cause I’ve got about three more for you and your aunt each.”

“Tony, where’re we going?” Peter whined, his breath fogging the window. “Tell meeee!”

“My lips are sealed,” Tony said, pretending to zip his lips shut and throw away the key. “We’re almost there, Rudolph, don’t worry.”

“Rudolph?!” Peter snorted.

Tony reached over the console to ruffle his hair. “I thought you might want a Christmas nickname,” he explained. “Plus, y’know, you already had a nickname available that only required a bit of simple reconstruction, Roo.”

Peter shook his head. “Just tell meeee!”

“No. Never.”

“Pleeease?”

“I physically can’t, buddy.”

“Tell me! Tellmetellmetellme pleeeeeeeeease?”

“Will… to keep secrets… decreasing,” Tony said robotically. “Fine. We’re going ice-skating, Petey-Pie.”

Peter gasped, his big chocolate eyes going wide. “Really?!”

Tony grinned and glanced over to his kid. “Really.” He wished he could stop the car and give his sweet boy a hug.

“But…” Peter bit his lip. “I don’t really know how. I mean, I went ice skating with Ned a few years ago but we mostly fell over and bruised our butts.”

Tony chuckled fondly. “That’s okay kiddie, I’ll show you the arts. Rhodey and I went when we were in college, and man, we had a blast laughing at each other. Oh- we’re here!”

“Tony, I don’t have any skates!” Peter realized as they hopped out of the car.

“I already got you some, Pete, don’t worry,” Tony assured him. He opened the trunk of the car. “And I brought you an extra hat, a coat, a scarf, some better gloves, extra socks and a pair of snow pants.”

“Tony,” Peter began, leaning into the hug the man offered him all the same. He grumbled and rolled his eyes but let Tony wrap a scarf around his neck and trade his thin woolen gloves out for much warmer, thicker ones. Peter had to admit he felt a lot warmer. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Thanks, Pete. M’kay, I’ve got these fancy red and blue skates for you and red and gold for me.”

“And I’m sure the color choices were random?” Peter asked sarcastically. “Wait- these have the Spider-Man logo on them! Mr. Stark, are there Spider-Man ice-skates?!”

Tony bent to kiss his forehead. “There are, Pete. Pretty cool, huh?”

“So cool! I love ‘em, thank you, Tony!” He held up the skates to admire them. “They’re great!”

“No problem, buddy. It was my pleasure.”

Peter flopped down in the snow and pulled on his skates. He looked up to admire the tall oak and pine trees swaying gently with the wind, the last leaves of fall scattering along the icy roads. A pair of snowflakes drifted down to his coat, and Peter felt a sort of peace flow through him.

“Petey? Are you comin’?” Tony called, skating back and forth along the edge of the pond. Peter knotted the laces of his skates tightly and struggled to his feet.

“I’m trying!” he yelled, staggering forward. He leaned over the ice and felt a bit dizzy. It was about a foot down to the actual ice, and Peter knew without a doubt that he would slip if he tried to get down. “I dunno, um….”

“I gotcha, Petey, don’t worry.” Tony held out his arms and gave him a reassuring smile. Hesitantly, Peter lowered stepped onto the frozen pond, grabbing Tony’s arm and clinging to him as he got both feet on the ice.

“Good job, Roo!” the man praised, lifting him up by the armpits so he was standing up a bit straighter. He couldn’t help but compare Peter to a fawn who just stood up for the very first time, and the boy’s big bambi eyes weren’t helping his case. “Getting on the ice is the hardest part. I’ve landed on my ass more times than I can count.” Tony frowned at himself. “Sorry I said ‘ass,’ don’t repeat that.”

Peter snorted. His skates slipped and he felt Tony’s arms tighten around him. “Whoa there, buddy. I gotcha.” He tucked a loose curl behind the teen’s ear and kissed his cheek, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

“‘M’kay, you ready, Pete?”

“Heck yeah!”

Tony grinned. “Okay, first, you said ‘heck yeah’ instead of ‘hell yeah’ and that’s adorable,” he teased, chuckling at Peter’s eye roll. “Second: let’s wreck this rink!”

Though of course, they ended up making more of a wreck of themselves rather than the rink.

The very second Peter slid his foot forward, he found himself spontaneously falling backwards. Luckily, Tony caught him easily and gently pulled him back up.

“I meant to do that,” he huffed, his small hands scrabbling at Tony’s coat. “It was- completely- intentional.”

“Of course it was, Roo, I know that,” he said with a raise of his eyebrows. “No one has the grace and agility you do.”

“I am graceful, Tony! How dare you?!” Peter grumbled.

Tony might have made a quip about the arms wrapped tightly around his waist for support, but he decided his poor kid had suffered enough. Despite bumping into every table or chair in his path, Peter was surprisingly graceful, especially when he swung with ease through the air on a thin stand of webbing. “You are graceful, buddy, I promise,” he admitted. “You wanna give it another try?”

Peter stuck his tongue out at him, adjusted his hat, and gingerly took a step forward. Tony tensed, ready to lunge forward and catch him if the boy slipped, but found himself letting a quiet cheer. “Nice job, Pete!”

Peter beamed at him, his legs spread far apart and his arms extended for balance. He tipped backwards and Tony started to jump forward, but Peter flailed his arms around and regained his balance.

“I think you’re getting the hang of it, kiddo!” Tony called as Peter made his way to the opposite side of the pond. He winced suddenly, protectiveness flooding through him at his retreating figure. “Be careful! Wait for me!”

He caught up to Peter easily and zipped in front of him, catching him by the shoulders. “You’re doing great, baby!”

“Thanks,” he giggled, looking down at his shoes. He wiped his red nose with the back of his hand and sniffled. “‘S fun!”

Tony smiled and adjusted Peter’s scarf. “Glad to hear it.”

“Tony?” he asked. “Can you do a figure eight?”

The man paused to consider this, clicking his tongue. “Only one way to find out!” he decided.

Peter watched excitedly as he skated out to the middle of the pond, looking practically weightless. Tony took a deep breath, prayed he didn’t break any bones, then pushed off. He zoomed around the pond in a perfect figure eight, only faltering for a brief moment, and traced over it twice before he skidded back to Peter. “Ta-da!”

Peter applauded, clearly very impressed. Tony bowed exaggeratedly and pretended to be embarrassed.

“D’you think I should try?” Peter asked.

Tony smiled fondly. “Only if you want to. I know you’d nail it though.”

And he did. Peter skated carefully to the edge of the pond and performed the figure eight beautifully, spinning in circles and laughing when he got a bit too dizzy.

Tony skated up to him, his eyes huge. “Jesus, Petey, that was fantastic!” He pulled the embarrassed teen to his chest and wished, not for the first time, that Peter wasn’t wearing a hat so he could kiss the top of his head. He settled for Peter’s cheek instead. “Wow, baby, that was amazing! Wait- I gotta sign you up for the Olympics. Where’s my phone- oh, I got it.” He pulled his phone from his coat.

“Tony, nooooo!” Peter protested.

“Tony yes. You’re too talented.”

“It was just a figure eight!” he giggled. “And you did one too so you hafta sign yourself up.” Peter looked up to the gray sky and shivered as the brisk winds tore at his heavy coat and scarf. He leaned even closer to Tony.

“You cold, baby?” Tony rubbed his back gently, hoping to generate some warmth. “Wanna go back home? We can come back here anytime you want.”

Peter sighed a bit sadly, but he had to admit he was freezing. He and Tony skated back to the car quickly. Snowflakes began to fall rapidly down as gusts of wind tried to upset their balance. Tony helped Peter onto the bank and they hurriedly yanked off their ice skates.

They found refuge in the car only when Tony turned the heater up full blast and leaned over the console to pull Peter into his arms. Peter’s shivers that had been worrying him far more than Tony had been willing to say eventually died off and together they watched what was now practically a blizzard raging outside.

“Just in time,” Tony mumbled into Peter’s curls. “Feel any better, baby?”

He grew worried when he received no response and pulled back. Peter’s eyes were shut and his breathing slow, though he made a small whimpering noise in the back of his throat when Tony pulled away. Tony smiled, a tender, loving light in his eyes and pulled Peter back into his arms, cradling his kid against his chest and rubbing his back soothingly. “‘M here. ‘M here, baby, don’t worry,” he cooed, planting a kiss on his forehead.

Peter curls tickled his cheek, his warm breath heating the skin of Tony’s neck. The console between him and his kid was uncomfortable and hard against his side, but he wouldn’t have moved for the world. Tony held Peter tightly and closed his eyes.

Maybe they could stay there a little while as they waited for the blizzard to pass.

III

Tony had been brewing a hot cup of coffee in the kitchen when a disheveled, sniffling, sleepy Peter face-planted into his back.

“Whoa, bud!” Tony spun around and caught the boy under the armpits. “Hey, hey. Are you okay?” He tilted Peter’s chin back and found that his nose was bright red, his eyes were half-lidded, and his bedhead was a lot worse (though still absolutely adorable) than it usually was.

“‘M fine,” Peter sniffled, leaning heavily against his chest. “Missed you.”

“Oh, baby,” Tony murmured, wrapping his arms around the small teen, “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, okay?” He gave his definitely-not-sick spider-baby a smooch on his temple. “You’re pretty warm,” he noted with a hint of worry in his voice. He pressed the back of his hand to the teen’s forehead. “Do you wanna lie down, kiddo?”

Peter shook his head weakly. “Wan’ you.”

Tony’s heart melted and he turned into a pile of mush. In this tired, sick, achy state Peter was clingier than ever, and all he wanted was him. He wanted Tony. He kissed Peter’s temple. “I’m gonna stay right here, Petey, don’t worry,” he assured his kid. “I promise.”

Tony held Peter with one arm while he rummaged through the kitchen cabinets with the other. “FRI? What’s up with the spider-baby?”

“Peter is exhibiting symptoms of a common cold, such as coughing, sneezing, a runny nose, and a fever,” the AI replied. Tony felt a pang of worry and empathy in his heart.

“Okay. I’ve got your pain meds,” he announced in a whisper. “Do you want water or OJ?”

Peter decided on the latter, not bothering to raise his head but simply mumbling “juice” into the man’s chest. Tony hummed in agreement and attempted to pour a glass for himself one-handedly (most of the juice ended up on the counter, but holding his sick kid was far more important than pouring orange juice).

He led the boy to the couch, a steadying hand around his shoulders. Peter snuggled against him, coughing and sniffling. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and shivered.

Tony placed two white pills into palm. Peter took a hesitant sip of his drink and gulped down the pills. Tony tucked an errant curl behind his ear and placed a kiss one his temple.

With Peter still in his hold, he strained to reach the weighted electric blanket that had fallen behind the couch. With a painful crack from his twisted back, he finally managed to get his fingers around the feather-soft blanket and settled back on the couch with a triumphant grunt.

He wrapped the electric blanket tightly around them both. Peter’s shivering caused a surge of fierce protection to run through his veins, and Tony hugged him to his chest, pressing a kiss to his soft, though slightly sweaty curls. He glared at the dark corners of the room, as if somehow the very cold that was making his child suffer so much would leap from the shadows.

Peter found comfort in the vibrations of Tony’s chest and the beat of his heart. The calloused fingers running through his hair and the occasional kiss against his temple soothed him beyond measure, and without ever realizing it, Peter started to drift off. Compared to when he had woken up, soaked with sweat, wheezing and sniffling and rather nauseous, he felt so much better in his father-figure’s embrace.

Dimly, he noticed that Tony was talking to him. He thought he recognized the words coming out of his mouth, and he realized suddenly that Tony was reading Mr. Willowby’s Christmas Tree to him. That book had been Peter’s favorite when he was a small toddler, and hearing the familiar words aloud brought a big burst of happiness to his chest.

Peter let his eyes slip shut for a second. The headache that had been pounding in his head was completely gone and in Tony’s arms, he felt incredibly warm and cozy and happy.

When his eyes opened again, he determined that Tony had finished reading the book. If he had had enough energy, he would have asked him to read another. But much to his delight, he realized Tony had already picked up another book.

And just before his eyes fluttered shut, he heard Tony’s gentle voice speaking, full of love. “I love you, Petey.”

I love you too.

“Mmm, Tony, the spaghetti was fantastic!” May exclaimed as she loaded her plate into the dishwasher. “I need that recipe, it’s just too good!”

Tony looked at Peter out of the corner of his eyes. The boy shook his head frantically and drew a finger across his throat. Tony snickered. “Thank you, May, I’m glad to hear that,” he said.

To be completely truthful, he felt like throwing up. During the dinner, Peter had chatted enough to distract him, but now his emotions were left to himself, and Tony had barely been swallowed by them. He stuffed the last plate in the dishwasher and took a few long, deep breaths. He massaged his forehead and blinked, sitting down heavily on the couch.

Tony’s heart was beating out of his chest. He looked up to the boy, who was texting someone- probably Ned, completely oblivious. “Pete?” he began shakily. “Do you think we could talk for a second?” He and May shared a glance. She realized immediately what he was about to do and gave him an encouraging smile and a thumbs up.

“Yeah!” Peter vaulted onto the couch with a laugh. His grin faded when he saw how worried, how scared the man looked. Alarm kindled in his chest. “What’s wrong, Mr. Stark?”

Tony couldn’t bring himself to laugh at the cookie crumbs in the corners of his mouth or the way his hair frizzed everywhere as he pulled his Santa hat off. He swallowed and took a deep breath.

“Um-” Tony had to clear his throat. He reached down and grabbed a briefcase leaning against the couch that Peter hadn’t noticed before. “Uh,” he tried. He pulled two papers out of the briefcase and stared at them for a long while. “Do you think that you could give these a read, kiddo?”

Peter nodded silently and took them. He looked up at Tony, his head tilted in confusion.

He looked to the papers. His eyes widened in disbelief. “W-what? I-” He turned the papers over as if there would be a sticky note saying “IT'S A PRANK!” on the back. “What? W-what? I-I don’t-” Peter shook his head.

He couldn’t stop looking at those cream-colored papers.

Child: Peter Benjamin Parker

Adopting Parent(s): Anthony Edward Stark

The rest of the paper was blank, except for Tony’s signature at the bottom.

“Am I asleep? This-this is a dream, right?” Peter's eyes were filling with tears but he didn’t bother to wipe them away.

“It’s not a dream, sweetheart,” May said gently. “It’s real.” She squeezed his knee, hoping to ground him.

“Really?” He opened his mouth but couldn’t seem to form words. He gaped like a fish, reading the adoption papers over and over again. “You-you wanna adopt me?” he finally managed to squeak out.

Tony finally gathered the courage to look at his kid. “Yeah, baby. But only if you want to, okay? Nothing would change, though. We’d- just be making it official. Everything would be the same except-” He throat closed, and suddenly he couldn’t speak.

Except Peter would be his official son- legally, on paper. And Tony would be his official dad. (There was no way Tony wasn’t already his dad.)

“What are you thinking, baby?” he murmured, instinctively tucking a curl behind Peter’s ear with shaky hands.

Tony’s gentle touch was enough to break the dam of emotions that had been holding back. Peter sniffled, then burst into tears and practically jumped into his dad’s arms.

Tony hugged him tightly, rubbing a hand up and down his back and pressing long kisses to his temple. Peter blubbered into his chest, happy tears soaking Tony’s sweater. May wrapped her arms around the two and squeezed them both tightly.

Tony felt tears prickle in his own eyes and he dropped his forehead to Peter’s curls. “Is that a yes?” he finally managed to say.

Peter giggled wetly and nodded frantically against his chest.

A grin as wide as a dinner plate crossed Tony’s face. He realized suddenly that tears were streaming down his cheeks, but he didn’t wipe them away. He kissed the top of Peter's head and squeezed him tighter.

May pressed a quick kiss on Peter’s cheek and stood up. “I’ll be back in a bit,” she said, sensing that the father and son might want a moment alone.

Tony rocked his kid back and forth, rubbing his back and pressing kiss after kiss to his cheek. “I love you,” he murmured into his chestnut curls. “I love you.” IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou.

“Love you,” Peter babbled. “I love you too. I love you.”

He held Peter at an arm’s length, still grinning. Then he pulled his kid back to him again and kissed his cheek, wiping away his tears with the pad of his thumb. “I love you.”

Peter sniffled, wiping his nose with his sweater. He wrapped his arms around Tony’s neck and curled around him like a koala. He leaned heavily against his dad’s chest, his breathing beginning to even out. Tony’s chest vibrated with every “I love you so much, Petey” and his ceaseless murmurs of love and comfort.

“Love you, Dad,” he said sleepily, his eyelids drooping.

A lump formed in Tony’s throat that he couldn’t seem to swallow past. Tears started to trickle down his cheeks. “Petey-” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “I love you so much. So damn much, okay?” He ran his hand up and down the boy’s back, kissing his temple and trying to blink his happy tears away.

Tony felt himself slowly drifting asleep. He blinked, and then his cheek was resting on his kid’s curls. His eyes closed again, and suddenly May was there, draping a blanket over them. He tried to tell her to get Peter’s special heated blanket, because his poor kid couldn’t thermoregulate and absolutely hated the cold. Then he realized that she had already tucked it around the boy and sighed in relief, finally letting himself relax.

May settled on the opposite side of Peter and wrapped an arm around him. Within minutes she was snoring quietly, but Tony was too tired to notice. A wave of joy and peace and love washed over him, and his eyes slipped shut.

~~~~~

/ST*RKERS DNI/

~~~~~

Taglist: @imissyoutoo @aj-that-person @tonystark-deserves-better @nathaly-ab @skeeter-110 @peter-and-tony-vlogs @teammightypen @joyful-soul-collector @loveliestdisappointment @depuella @scwene-qween @honeythepooh @pixiethefirecat7 @spider-man-lover @jami161 @bringitonvoldie @queen-of-sarcasm-25 @roxy3457 @memilon @iron-loyalty @gralaca @bitchingpretty @pillowspace @thatminecraftgal @clockworkteacup @hatakehikari @wtfischeese @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @skydiving-without-a-parachute @yansi1923 @slytherin-hamilton-life-12 @dead-inside-pt2 @name-me-regret @zanderljones @spidy8664 @hold-our-destiny

If anyone wants to be added/ removed please let me know!

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prismadog · 3 years

Text

Found Family AU: Divided [Emptober 16]

so...obviously I'm a bit behind on the whole Emptober thing if I'm just now working on 16 but ya know what? I don't care. I needed a little break from this - the stress of trying to catch up was well...stressing, but now that the month is over, I don't have to worry anymore about getting these done on time because I'm going to be late no matter what :D isn't it great?

also, I've been playing a lot of java lately and working on an outline for an actual fanfic featuring our beloved little gnome Shrub and her demon Dad XorXor! I'm gonna start writing that out soon after I finish chapter 4 of "to Love my Enemy", and like always, I'll be making a link posty thingamajig to the story once its uploaded. but that's not gonna happen for at least a little bit longer.

anyway, moving on to the Emptober prompt. I decided to take a step back from our usual characters and instead write about someone else...someone who's related to the demon - no, not Alinar, though, I do have another day or so for him set aside.

Divided

He enters his room, footsteps soft against the floorboards, and drops face-first like a ragdoll on the cyan double bed.

Why?

He asks silently. He turns his head so he's not suffocating himself - not that it matters much, he'll just respawn anyway...but it's always such a tiring experience and he'd rather not deal with that right now. Though, maybe a few minutes in the void that is respawn would help him get his bearings?

He's Aeor's Champion.

He, Scott Smajor, Elfking of Rivendell, brother to the monster that plagues the land -

Is a Champion.

Scott rolls onto his back and pulls the sword from his inventory - the blade catches on the lamplight and almost glows in his hand.

Why?

Why did Aeor have to give him this?

Why did Aeor bless him with these antlers?

Why does he have to take arms against the demon - against his brother?

The sword is beautiful - white steel with gold engravings in the tongue of elves, a blessing from their benevolent god. It's a long blade but light, the handle fits perfectly in his calloused hand.

It's like the sword was meant for him.

which, it technically is.

Aeor gave him this sword just a few hours ago when he asked for guidance, when he asked the Stag for a cure - a way to heal the demon and return them to their former self, to the brother he knew only in a past life.

The Stag gave him...

this.

Aeor...He's supposed to believe in peace, equality, preserving life.

This.

This is not the way he expected his God to help.

This sword is a death sentence.

Why?

Why does he have to kill the demon? Why does he have to murder his long lost brother?

Isn't there a better way?

There has to be right?

He can't really be expected to kill Xornoth...

can he?

Sure, the demon is bad - really bad, a terror on this world that only wants to corrupt and destroy -

but...

They're also his brother -

And if his assumptions are correct, they're also Shrub's father, which seriously, what?

That monster being the father of his sweet little gnome friend, how? what? She's too kind to be the child of a ruthless, merciless, entity that only wants to hurt others - what about that time she stabbed Joey for calling Xornoth 'Daddy?' his brain "helpfully" reminds him.

He ignores the thought.

How does that even work?

Xornoth is a demon, might technically still be an elf underneath the darkness and corruption, and Shrub is a gnome. Did his brother really get out an - no. not going there. He does not need to think about his brother in that context. Nope.

Scott sighs, returning the sword to his inventory, and rolls onto his side to free up his wings and let them stretch out behind him. Really, he should be stowing it away in his ender chest but he can always do that later.

The sky outside his windows has started to darken, the stars are glittering like diamonds in the sky. It looks peaceful.

"Can I really kill Xornoth?" he asks the silence of his room, his own voice barely a whisper.

Alinar didn't hesitate to banish them.

So why is he hesitating now?

He and Alinar are one in the same.

Shouldn't he be able to do this?

Shouldn't he want to do this? To be the hero that slays the beast?

Alinar wouldn't hesitate.

Alinar would do what he must to protect his people, even if that means murdering his own flesh and blood.

So why doesn't Scott?

He is Alinar.

Alinar is him.

Why doesn't he want to kill Xornoth? To free the land from corruption?

Why does he want to cure the demon of its ailment and embrace the brother he never knew?

Why does he feel like asking Aeor for guidance was a mistake?

#empires smp #found family au #scott smajor

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stardstgf · 3 years

Text

we’ve been here for hours.

people say it’s a good place to watch for animals. foxes, wolves, bears. those same people also warn against doing that very thing, especially at this time of the morning.

the wolves in particular, they’re thinner than anything, no more than bones and ragged fur. if given the chance, they’ll take anything as prey

the lines between night and day blur in these early hours.

they say it’s when the worst of them come out. i have no memories beyond ones that have been constructed from the stories. curiosity wins over fear, it always has.

there’s something here that i can’t quite explain, something that stills the very air around us. i wonder if it’s what people really mean when they say the witching hour, wonder if maybe the older stories of three in the morning had been wrong.

i can hear every shift of fabric as you move, uncomfortable on the grass. it’s still damp from the night before. there are patterns reflecting across the water, i’m hyper aware of every sound in the near total silence. i turn my head slightly, and there are flashes of light in my peripheral. glitter still lingers in your hair, on your face.

“if you keep moving,” i say under my breath, hardly louder than a whisper, afraid to unbalance the silence, “you’ll scare them off.”

you roll your eyes, always the cynical one, a half-smile curving your lips. i watch you here, a stray curl falling across your eyes. you brush it away, still smiling.

“the wolves won’t care if i’m adjusting my jacket. they just want to eat me.”

“okay, nothing’s going to eat us,” i say with a laugh, distracted from whatever previous exasperation had hung in my voice before. “relax.”

“don’t tell me to-"

you break off, falling silent, and i turn.

there’s a wolf emerging from the other side of the clearing, heading towards the river.

i try to remember how to breathe. neither of us have moved an inch in over a minute. we’re half concealed in a cluster of pines; it hasn’t seen us yet. but somehow, i know beyond logic that it’s not interested in us, not today. if i turned around, i know I’d see the house rising behind us. we aren’t far from home, and if we ran now, i don’t think that anything would bother to follow.

you’re still beside me, all i can smell is strawberry shampoo, and suddenly i’m not sure i want to go anywhere at all.

the wolf is bigger up close, a near impenetrable wall of toned muscle and silken fur. it looks as if it’s been crafted from paper and ink, pulled straight from the worn pages of a fairy tale. there’s something breathtaking about this moment, something making my chest feel tight. it has a grace about it too, underpinned with something deadly. this wolf is like a spring that’s been too tightly coiled, too tightly wound. there’s a part of me that wonders what that breaking point would look like. there’s another that never wants to find out.

it’s like being ten feet away from an atomic bomb. one wrong movement, one wrong breath, a shift in the wind-

it bends to drink, muscles flexing in its neck, and i can feel your leg shaking where it’s pressed up against mine. dogs can smell fear, maybe this one is the same.

but somehow, i can’t bring myself to be scared. maybe it’s a delayed reaction, maybe adrenaline blocks out everything else. i can hear my heartbeat thundering in my ears as the wolf retreats from the water.

they’re thinner than anything, no more than bones and ragged fur.

maybe this one is beyond something mortal. a beast illuminated by the morning light. droplets of water reflect off its fur, a thousand tiny flares. i blink, and shadows flicker across its face, my eyes and the sunlight playing tricks on my vision. time moves slowly here, bending around us, slowing the moment down. half a second later, the wolf turns towards us.

for a heartbeat, everything is still.

they’ll take anything as prey.

but there’s nothing hungry in its gaze, nothing vicious. there’s something a lot like curiosity as it looks at me, eyes glowing in the half light of the clearing.

there’s another beat of silence and it turns to go. i can’t hear anything past a shift of leaves, a faint whistling wind, and then nothing.

it’s almost like it had never been wholly real at all.

#hii<3 #lmk what u guys think maybe!!! i’m not super proud of this bc i lowkey rushed it HDJJSJSS but it was for class so yeah just wanna #post it somewhere #keeping track of progress etc #inkedwords #it’s a response to a poem by helen mort so. makes more sense w the poem ig????#but yeah<3 #anyway #my writing

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paper-n-ashes · 3 years

Text

sparks and embers - chapter 3

Characters: Poe Dameron x Original Female Character, Kylo Ren x Original Female Character

Story Tags: Explicit (18+), Canon Compliant/Divergent (Set after TLJ), First Person POV, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Porn with Plot, Hurt/Comfort, Kylo Ren hates Poe Dameron

Chapter 3 - The Return

Words: 4k

Chapter Tags/Warnings: medical descriptions and procedures, some sexual themes - mainly in the form of OC being thirsty AF

Read on AO3 or Start from the beginning

On the way back from the East village, filled with the Gossams, humans and other alien species who had similarly escaped to a simpler life, I couldn’t help but curse at myself for giving in so easily to the pleas of a good-looking stranger.

Aiding someone merely for their physical appearance? How horribly unprofessional.

The voice in the back of my mind was loud. And curiously judgemental.

It had been over a full day cycle since I’d departed the clinic, making Poe vow to remain within the confines of his bed until I had returned. I’d left him with enough food for two days of my travelling, hygiene supplies, a drip running slowly for some pain relief and range of tools for him to attempt getting BB-8 up and running, hoping he wouldn’t have any reason to struggle getting out of bed.

The thought of his still fragile femur bone breaking and splitting the artery I’d spent all my energy on mending was beyond frightening. I worried about him every minute I was awake, imagining any number of complications that would leave me a corpse to find when I arrived back.

Bleeding, clots, stroke, infection, sepsis.

It wasn’t easy to slip those thoughts from my mind in the lone starkness of the Raxus countryside. There wasn’t really anything to look at except grass and sky, nothing to distract me from the worst case scenarios.

I’d convinced some of my old patients to join my cause, promising them better medicine and equipment if I was only able to have a comm-tower to order everything I needed. It didn’t seem like lying. The comm-tower really was my only link to the rest of the galaxy, and I would have needed it fixed anyway. Only now, time seemed to be more of the essence.

After spending the night amongst the locals I had grown to be familiar with over the last few years, I’d begun the trek back with the knowledge at least one problem had been solved. Some promised spare parts, others were going to follow my path within the next day cycle to get my comm-link back online. I hadn’t divulged all the story, at least not the part about this repair job apparently being a determining factor in the fate of the galaxy.

I hadn’t pressed Poe about what that meant exactly. I was used to the Resistance and their soldiers having somewhat of a flair for the dramatic when it came to war, after healing many of their battle wounds in years past. I knew how fervently they believed in their cause - that they were the only thing standing between galaxy wide harmony and First Order dictatorship.

I understood their hope of peace in our lifetime, but I’d lost mine a long time ago. Good, bad, they were just two sides of a coin that would flip for eternity, desperately chasing power for their own reasons.

In truth, I didn’t particularly care. I just hoped to live my life somewhat free from the burden of picking a side.

Before unlocking the clinic door, my feet aching from hiking for 6 straight hours, I drew in a long breath with a silent prayer I wouldn’t be walking in to find a dead body. With a fluid motion I turned the handle and pushed the door open, my head popping in first around the entryway to where Poe’s hospital bed stood. He immediately heard the latch clicking and shot his head up to meet with my eyes.

“You’re back,” he smiled, as I noted how much colour had returned to his face during my absence.

He looked so much better.

For the first time, I found myself studying his face, my stare tracing from his strong angular jawline to his high cheekbones, the prominence of his nose, the whiskey colour of his large cheerful eyes, his tousled deep brown hair. Then I took in his wide grin, shapely pink lips curled upwards to show perfectly set white teeth.

Stars, he’s so handsome.

In the muddle of memories I’d conceived from the night of his crash I’d not recognised, at least not during the time I was struggling to keep him alive, how attractive he was. And now with his health a far better picture than the last time I’d seen him, it was all I could notice. My heart quivered through a beat as he beamed at me, soon realising his smile was more a reflection of the prospective good news I brought with my return, making it settle back into a normal rhythm.

“Hi,” I breathed, walking closer and setting my pack down at the foot of the hospital bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he answered, “The smaller burns are almost gone, and my chest wound is closed, look!” He pulled up the grey hospital shirt I’d managed to change him into before I had to leave. This time when I saw the nakedness of his chest and abdomen I couldn’t help but stare at his softly defined muscles, all tensing during his movement. He was right, the hole below his rib now sealed, a newly-formed, pink scar in its place. The chest tube was still secured above it, now redundant.

“Gotta love bacta,” I hummed. “I can take that drain out now if you like.”

He looked at me incredulously. “You’ve just done a 30 hour round trip for me, not even sat down, and you want to dive head first into more treatment?”

“I... uh... I mean... I just wanted to help you feel better,” I stammered.

Poe shook his head, smirking. “It’s okay, I appreciate it. Really, I do. But I’m alright, the tube can wait. How about you rest for a second and tell me how the mission- I mean, trip, went?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Two days ago you were begging me to get going so I couldn’t waste any time, now you’re telling me I can take a load off?”

"Uh, yeah… Sorry about that,” he grimaced. “Having some time to think while you were gone... It made me realise everything you’d done and were doing for me - a stranger you had no reason to help." Poe took a long exhale before speaking again, his tone serious. "I was in a lot of pain, just woken up in a strange place. It’s still imperative to get a message back to the Resistance as soon as possible but... that’s not your burden to bear. I can't thank you enough for your help, but I'll try not to ask too much more of you.”

It seemed not only had his physical health improved, but logical thought and patience had returned.

I took my cue to sit on one of the opposite hospital beds, letting my feet dangle over the edge to kick my shoes off, feet pulsing with gratitude at their release. “There’s some villagers coming tomorrow,” I started. “They will hopefully have a new comm-tower up and running within the next couple of days. I told them about your droid too. There’s some spare parts in that bag.” I pointed my hand out to the satchel at Poe’s feet, glancing at the L shaped table beside his bed I’d set up. BB-8 was sitting on top of it, head and body still separated and now unbolted at separate points, wires haphazardly sticking out in different directions. Falling back into the mattress, I let out an exhausted sigh, relishing the feel of the squeaky mattress under my body.

“I really owe you. The Resistance owes you,” Poe praised after a few moments of silence, as I heard him begin to rummage through the satchel. I held back a frown, even when I knew he wouldn’t be able to catch sight of my face.

I didn’t do any of this for the Resistance.

It occurred to me then I wasn’t really sure why I’d done it at all. I had always been a sucker for those in poor predicaments, hence why I became a doctor in the first place. But the trek had nothing to do with treatment or medicine. It was purely at the behest of this pilot, who’s charming appearance in the dimmed orange light of the evening made my skin feel hot.

“So, how did a girl like you find herself in the middle of nowhere on the Outer Rim?” Poe questioned, fiddling with some of the parts.

I sat back up. “I’m not a girl. I’m 28. That’s a little too old to be called girl anymore.”

Poe chuckled, the sound of his laugh both warming and positively thrilling. “I apologise. How did a woman like you end up here?”

“I used to work on Coruscant, that’s where I started my medical training,” I explained, remembering the glittering planet I’d spent much of my young life on. “Then moved into the war relief efforts on medical frigates scattered throughout the galaxy. Treating wounded soldiers day in day out took its toll, having people constantly injured and almost dying for a war they didn’t start.” I glanced to Poe's expression, seeing a glow of understanding behind his eyes before I continued. “Plus, there were more than a few times I felt a little redundant. The medical droids they have kind of... made my treatment obsolete. I wanted to practice medicine in a place where adequate health care was rare or non-existent. I wanted to help those who were most desperate, who otherwise couldn’t afford it, those who would actually value the care of a live human doctor. So I picked a planet at random, and settled here."

The random part was an utter lie. No one had cared about Raxus since the Clone Wars, and the First Order wouldn’t make it their priority to conquer Outer Rim worlds for a while yet. It was a quiet, calm planet with countless refugees fleeing here to make peaceful new lives. They wouldn’t be concerned about old, rusty equipment, lower quality bacta or no medical droids. They would simply be happy at having a doctor within a day’s trek.

And no one would think of looking here for a Force user.

Poe studied me in quiet thought for a moment, taking in what I’d divulged. “Well, they're damn lucky, with how nicely you patched me up. You’d run circles around some of the doctors and medical droids at the Resistance base.” He grinned at me again, earnestly, another attempt to thank me for my work. I felt the pit of my stomach tense, and it wouldn’t retreat, the thought of his smile lingering in my mind even after he’d gone back to his tinkering.

It had to be because I’d been in isolation for so long, why I was reacting so strongly to the innocent smiles and compliments of a man I barely knew. I definitely wasn’t used to conversing with men so close in age to my own. Most of the local humans were older, married with children, and I rarely made conversation around any other topic than their illnesses.

“What... uh... Why were you flying over Raxus?” I asked awkwardly.

His eyebrows creased together as he looked back at me. “Raxus wasn’t my destination, but I... can’t tell you any more than that.”

“Oh…”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” he urged. “It’s just, you know, highly confidential.” He seemed apologetic, like he owed me more of an explanation.

I nodded, agreeing the less I knew about the Resistance and their missions the better. “Well, you’ll be able to get back to it in a couple of days,” I insisted, breaking the awkward silence that had lingered. “Some time and a little bit more bacta and you’ll be like new again.”

“Actually, speaking of that,” he started, an uneasy expression now settling in his features. “I was wondering when you were thinking of letting me get out of this bed.”

“Depends on the reason Poe. I’d recommend starting your formal rehab tomorrow at the absolute earliest, otherwise we can get you up and walking if you need to do something… uh… specific.” There was no hiding the waver in my voice.

He laughed, louder than he had before, the sound making it difficult for me not to blush. “Aren’t you a doctor? Why are you embarrassed for me to use the bathroom?”

“Hey!” I frowned. “I was trying to save you from being embarrassed.”

He shook his head, still chuckling. “I’m alright on that front for now. I was actually hoping to use your refresher. It’s been a few days…”

“Oh of course!” I’d cleaned him up as much as I could before I’d left, getting rid of his obliterated flight suit and helping change into the bland hospital outfit I reserved for overnighters, but even to myself the idea of a shower was enticing.

A thought flashed into my mind of steaming water hitting Poe’s sun darkened skin, trickling down his toned body as he lathered himself in soap suds.

Woah.

Okay.

That was new.

It had been such a long time since I’d felt the fire of blood rushing to the lower portion of my abdomen, insides clenching at the heat so suddenly ignited.

Poe was looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to continue. I internally shook away the incriminating thoughts before they could be conveyed on my face. “How about I get that chest tube out first? Then I can help you to the ‘fresher?”

He breathed out in relief. “That would be fantastic.”

I stepped lightly off the hospital bed, walking shoe-less over to my medical trolley to drag it back to Poe’s side. And immediately, without me asking, he sat up and began a haphazard attempt to pull off his shirt, left arm bandaged and stiff, right arm enveloped in the cast I’d made and evidently still painful to move.

In a wordless reply, I helped him pull the fabric over his head, confronted with the image of a half-naked, strikingly handsome man in front of me.

I couldn’t believe I hadn’t recognised any of his raw allure when he’d been almost stripped completely bare by my own hands on the night of his crash. It seemed bizarre I wouldn’t have noted the strong, broadness of his shoulders, his armoured chest littered deliciously with dark hair, carved abdominal muscles tensed in waiting.

I swallowed hard, hoping Poe wouldn’t register my shaking hands as I prepared the tube removal kit. Snipping the sutures around the plastic, unsteady gloved fingers pulled out the tube as smoothly as I could manage, Poe flinching slightly at the sensation. He continued to look away as I injected some bacta gel into the wound, sealing it closed with a few new sutures and placing a waterproof dressing over the site.

“All done,” I settled. “Like nothing happened at all.”

Poe looked back to me and smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. It was obvious he remained troubled by the memories of his crash, and understandably so. I’d seen the same look in many other military personnel, the attempt to put on a brave face when images of fire, blood and terror pierced their thoughts. I desperately wanted to take his mind to a brighter place. “So, ready to try walking?”

“Absolutely! Lead the way doc.”

Ugh. Eventually I would have to correct him on that.

I stepped back from the side of the bed, arms stretched in readiness for when he inevitably stumbled. “Please take it slowly. Your muscles aren’t going to be pleased with what you’re doing after over two days of bed rest.”

“Sure thing,” Poe scoffed.

Typical male.

Initially he seemed to take my direction, moving his legs slowly from under the blanket, pain now registering on his features. He swivelled himself sluggishly to let his legs fall over the side of the mattress, breathing slightly heavier to push through the discomfort.

He was leaning more on his left side, right arm hovering over his thigh. Tentatively, he slipped his left foot onto the floor and shifted his weight onto it, pushing his hand into the mattress to help himself up.

Soon he was standing in front of me for the first time since we’d met, and even amongst all the burns, bruises, dressings and bandages, he looked impossibly strong, toned muscles wrapping his form.

He noticed the timid smile form on my lips.

“Hey don’t start laughing at me. I don’t think I could handle my ego being bruised along with the rest of me.”

“Oh... I wasn’t-,” I stumbled, quietly relieved he’d misread the reason behind my smirk.

He held his hand up in protest, grinning. “I was kidding. You’re welcome to laugh at the adult sized toddler learning to walk again.”

It was difficult not to snicker at his words. “Come on,” I encouraged. “Just think of how nice that hot water will feel.”

He sighed in agreement and moved, taking a hesitant step onto the previously fractured leg. I swiftly froze with anxiety, even when the logical side of my brain told me both the break and the artery would have stabilised exponentially by now. But the emotional side, the part that remembered the rush of blood that had exploded from the wound site, nagged incessantly at me, insisting that this was a very bad idea.

My eyes were glued to Poe’s figure as he shifted his weight deliberately, muscles tensing at the trigger of pain he was likely feeling, before he made a delicate hop to move back onto his left leg.

Even that one haggard step appeared to take a lot out of him, but he seemed determined, eyebrows already wrinkled in concentration. He continued the process a few times over, my arms still poised in waiting for the foreseeable stumble as I walked backwards. I couldn’t help but hold my breath as he limped, following me out of the clinic room into the hallway that lead to my office, the ‘fresher, and my living quarters all the way at the end.

His steps became faster, more confident, when all of a sudden, his balance wavered.

Reacting quickly, I stepped forward to catch him, arms circling under his own and around his torso, hands now gripping the muscles on his back as he crashed into me. I would have stayed there for a moment, my fingertips registering the warmth radiating off his skin, until I became fully aware where his face had fallen into.

I felt Poe’s heated exhale through the cotton of my white shirt after his face had collided into my chest, directly between my breasts. The twinge in my lower abdomen occurred again, breath hitching in my throat.

He scrambled to push himself back into a standing position, my arms releasing from around him, his hands clamping around my biceps as he fought to reclaim his steadiness again.

“I am so sorry!” he blurted, his face dangerously close to mine, only a small touch of redness visible under his caramel skinned cheeks. I knew my blushing would be much more pronounced.

“It’s okay,” I breathed. “I was waiting for that to happen.”

His eyes widened.

“Not that!” I yelped. “I meant you falling! I was waiting for you to fall!”

Poe’s face illuminated into a beaming grin. “Sure you did.”

I frowned in protest, but couldn’t stop the chuckle escaping. I shifted to face the same way as him, an arm curling around his torso, angling my body under his own. “How about I help you the rest of the way?”

His hand gripped onto my shoulder, the hardened squeeze making the tensing inside me ripple even faster.

Focus Alex.

Poe let me support him as he limped down the hallway, and I desperately tried to distance myself from the thoughts that swirled in my mind at being connected so closely.

Eventually we made it into the ‘fresher, a white and grey tiled room with the large, frameless shower enclosure taking up most of the space, the only privacy a plastic curtain that could be pulled across the entire spans of the room. I’d designed it with the idea there would be enough space to assist overnighter patient’s in washing themselves, since I didn’t have a nurse to do it for me. Yet, it still gave me the ability to provide some discretion by stepping out past the other side of the curtain, ready to swoop in if I was needed.

And that’s what I’d planned for Poe, knowing he was hardly the type of patient that was going to let me do anything for him if he could help it. Guiding him to the backless shower chair, I released him to his own devices and quickly pulled the curtain across. It was more for my own concealment at this point, needing to take a moment to settle myself down, the memory of his hold still lingering on my skin.

“I’ll be right here if you need any help okay? Everything you need will be on the shelf under the shower start button.”

“Thanks Alex,” he answered, his voice huffing out as I could hear he’d already started to shimmy down his pants.

Stop imagining it Alex. Stop thinking about him naked, a metre away, behind that thin curtain.

The sound of water rushing into the tile floor pulled me back into some impression of reality. I busied myself with organising my own hygienic supplies in the mirrored cupboard, desperately trying to think of anything other than the man hidden from my view, steam swirling around his figure, water dribbling down his bare skin. From behind the screen I heard a pleasant moan leave him, obviously enjoying the hot water battering into his aching muscles for the first time in days.

And with that sound I felt a twinge between my legs, heat swelling and rippling outwards through my body.

Stars, that was... hot.

It felt so unprofessional, to be tantalized by the thought of a man, a patient, in the middle of such a basic act of human hygiene. But I couldn’t deny he was more attractive than any patient I’d ever had in my life, and the thought of ripping open the curtain so I could join him was suddenly the most tempting thing in the galaxy.

I locked my hands onto the basin that stood in front of me, trying not to be overwhelmed by the sound of Poe lathering soap between his hands, then sliding over an unseen portion of his body.

It was then I started to pace, hoping the repetitive movement would stop me ruminating over the indecent notions my mind was conjuring. Minutes ticked by too slowly as I waited for him to finish his routine, begging for the irresistible pull of craving to be released from me.

“Hey Alex?” Poe suddenly called.

“What's wrong?” I squeaked, cursing at myself for sounding so startled.

“I actually need some help.”

Oh maker, why do you do this to me?

I swallowed hard. “Y-yeah. Sure. Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he began, voice sounding a little forced. “It’s just... with my left arm still bandaged, and my right arm still in the cast, I can’t wash my hair. I know it’s a little strange, but could you help me out?”

My heart ricocheted inside my rib cage, frolicking at the thought of seeing him soaked in water, fingers raking through his dampened hair.

Come on Alex, try to keep at least one shred of professionalism.

“Sure,” I agreed, a more competent tone saturating my voice as I withheld my internal fluttering. “Make yourself… uh… decent, and I’ll open the curtain.”

I heard Poe’s movement as he reached for one of the towels hanging on the rail nearby and wrapped it around his lower body. The flowing water soon came to a stop, the sudden silence making me feel uneasy.

“Ready.”

I placed myself in front of the curtain between us, his stature only barely visible through the clouded screen. My jaw was locked as I took a deep breath through my nose, meditating in thought, frantically clawing at a sense of calm.

Then I reached towards the plastic, clenched my hand around it, and pulled.

Next Chapter

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intu-witch-tion · 3 years

Text

You’re An Asshole, Javier Peña {Ch. 6}

Summary: You and Javier try to strike up a balance after the events of the party have left you both feeling out of sorts. Javier surprises you with lots of stuff and things, because words always seem to fail him. He takes you on a date(?!) and the tables turn as you try to take control in the bedroom.

Word Count: 8.2k (fuck, my bad.)

Warnings: Really, really soft!Javier, Javier’s love language is gift giving (?!), general teasing, a bit of angst, lots of fluff, FEELSFEELSFEELSWTF, dominance/switch energy, mention of a daddy kink, brat taming, BDSM with a crop and a paddle. (Probably other shit. Sorry it’s long winded. I got a little lost in it.)

You woke to the ethereal slender fingers of sunlight stretching through the curtains. Javi’s bedroom always had a warm, yellow cast in the morning that was comforting as you succumbed to wakefulness. You felt the prying heat of Javier’s legs tangled between yours, the tops of his feet tucked beneath your toes in a closeness that is often taken for granted. But not for you. This man, who held the fury of Mars in his pocket, was soft and yielding with you. You traced your foot up his calf and smiled as you felt the bristling tickle of his mustache against your shoulder. He said nothing, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you tight against his chest. He continued sprinkling kisses over your neck as you locked your fingers with his and tucked his hand between your breasts, hugging it like a child would a teddy bear.

“Buenos dias, querida.” He finally cooed, his voice lacking in inflection and a bit scratchy from sleep. You turned to him, eyes darting over his drowsy face. He looked back at you through languid half-lids, his hair mussed wildly as if he had slept with his head in a cardboard box. The morning light crept through the slit in the curtains and dashed over his face in a slim, golden streak, revealing the 5 o’clock shadow on his cheeks that had grown during sleep. You liked this Javi. The softness of his chiseled features as the grip of slumber slowly released him and morning eased him into consciousness.

You studied him, the curve of his nose that you loved so much, the way his eyes pinched into almonds as he squinted and pulled his face from the intrusive tear of sunlight. “Good morning, mi amor.” You whispered after much consideration, loving the way he admired you in turn. He blinked at you for another second before reaching behind him for a cigarette on the bedside table, lighting it mindlessly. He sat up, leaning against the headboard, a deep inhale pulling against the filter. You realized in this moment that you were both still stark naked from the night before. Your eyes jumped over his naturally tanned skin, admiring the uneven ripples of his stomach as he lay slumped against the headboard. Your mind got lost when your gaze swept over that dark patch of curls between his legs, his cock only partially flaccid.

Without hesitation, you rolled your naked body onto his, feeling his dark pubic hair titillating the lips of your pussy. He watched you, cigarette hanging idly off his bottom lip, a long clump of ash threatening to fall and singe his chest. His own eyes had been drifting intently over your bare body, the cigarette in his mouth all but forgotten. You took it between your fingers, careful not to jostle it and disturb the orange glow of ash at the end. You placed it gently in the ashtray and rolled your hips down, rubbing against his shaft in a lazy, teasing movement. He groaned as his hands slid up your thighs. You could feel him swelling beneath you and his fingers curled, nails digging faint crescent-moons into your flesh.

His cock, laying somewhat limp only seconds ago, was now erect like a rocket and ready to jettison into you. You sat up on your knees, prepared to take him down to the hilt when he pulled his lips to your chest, kissing you sweetly. “As much as I would love to do this right now, querida,” he kissed you again, his facial hair scratching the top of your breasts in the best way, “We have a lot to do today. I’ll be up to my nuts in reports over that fucking party last night.” You threw him a playful pout, your bottom lip drooping over your chin as you relaxed yourself down in his lap, disappointed. A faint smirk donned his visage and he took your lip between his teeth, nibbling softly before ghosting them over your chin and sealing the action with a kiss. He popped your ass with both hands. “Up, princesa.” He demanded, his voice stern but kind. You whined, flopping onto the bed, your hair falling listlessly over the pillow and across your face. He brushed a strand from your eyes and looked over your naked form one more time before forcing himself out of bed.

You watched him pull on a pair of jeans from the dresser drawer. “I’m going to make some coffee.” He stated plainly, as he arched himself into his pants and buttoned them. You sighed, knowing he was right about the work you had ahead of you today. The party last night had proven to be what anyone would consider a success. The pertinent bad guys either dead or in custody. You couldn’t ask for much better as far as a job well done. But that irksome memory was etched painfully in your mind. Javier taking that bullet. Those few moments you had existed alone in a world where you believed him to be dead. You gulped, the sides of your throat seizing up at the recollection.

You rolled out of bed, rummaging through Javier’s dresser, and pulling out a t-shirt. You slipped it over your head, acknowledging the mess throughout the room from the chaos of last night. Walking into the bathroom, you took a brush to your hair. You scrutinized the clothes strewn about the floor. Your dress pooled in a wilted blue puddle at your feet, tattered and lifeless. The sequins glittered beneath the stale bathroom light as if to mock you. Javi’s white dress shirt was flung not far from it. The articles of clothing resembled that of a tired battlefield, wounded and unresponsive.

Javier whistled softly from the kitchen, some undiscernible tune, and you were immediately yanked from your somber thoughts. He sounded happy. And despite what happened last night, the trauma and the uncertainty of where this so-called relationship was headed, you supposed you were happy too.

As Javier managed his way through making a pot of joe, you took it upon yourself to tidy things up a bit. You started in the bedroom, gathering your belongings, and cramming them back into your duffle bag. You needed something to wear if you were to go into the office today. Javier would have to bring you home on his way into the station. You figured it was probably best that you weren’t seen walking in together anyways.

You made your way back into the bathroom, scooping up the ruined clothes from the floor. You walked into the kitchen just in time to see Javier reaching into the cabinet for a couple of coffee mugs. You loved when he walked around shirtless, the muscles in his back rippling as he stretched upwards. You bit your bottom lip, your fingers squeezing the clothes in your hand as you watched him. He turned to see you and you did your best to make it seem as though you had not been creeping on him from the hallway. He eyed you with suspicion, the corner of his lips curling slightly. “Coffee?” He asked you simply, and you nodded, kneading your fingers tighter into the white fabric of Javi’s dress shirt.

“I’m sorry about your nice shirt.” You said, your tone apologetic and kind. Javier filled a plain ceramic mug with coffee and handed it to you. You knew better than to ask for cream or sugar. If you drank coffee in this house, it was black or not at all. You blew on the surface and watched as he poured a cup for himself. “Eh. It was Steve’s shirt anyways.” He said into his cup, his mustached lip crested over the edge of the mug as he took a generous swig, unphased by the heat of the beverage as it crashed into his mouth.

You opened the trash can, tossing his (well, Steve’s) shirt and your blue dress inside and closing the lid. Javi watched you closely, a strange expression stitching his features. He hated your dress got ruined and seemed to grieve over it as much as you did. You leaned against the fridge, sipping your coffee, and looked over at Javier who stood with his hip against the counter.

“You do know everyone saw me kiss you last night.” He blurted before taking another sip, the words spilling from his lips as though he could contain them no longer. Your eyes shot up, unsure of how to respond. He raised an eyebrow in your direction, and you stared down into your coffee, the steam heating your face in damp wisps. You hadn’t given it any thought at the time. You were tied to a chair. Javier, risen from the dead, cut you free and took you into his arms. Kissing him only felt like the most natural thing to do in that moment. The idea that everyone at the station was present to witness it didn’t really come into your mind.

You weren’t sure how you felt about everyone at the station knowing about this thing you and Javier had together. You also weren’t sure how Javier felt about it either. His words made it evident that he had given it a great deal more thought than you had. There was a heavy silence and you had no idea how to respond. Javier finished his cup of coffee, placing the mug on the counter and walking over to you. He kissed you on the forehead. “I’m going to take a shower.” And that was it. He walked out of the kitchen. He didn’t wait for you to say anything. He just...went to take a shower? Ok.

You spent the rest of the morning getting ready without another word exchanged between you. Javier dropped you off at your apartment so you could get your personal things sorted and you told him you would drive into the station separate.

When you arrived, Javier was at his desk, typing diligently at his typewriter, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. You sat down and proceeded to work through your own reporting, trying your best to recall everything that happened from your perspective. Every so often, you would glance up at Javier, who was mulling over the keys, either deep in thought or on the phone. He didn’t seem angry with you. He didn’t even seem distant. Just preoccupied. So, you thought nothing of it and continued on about your day as usual.

Around noon, you were called into a debrief with the chief. You stood, Javier’s eyes following you momentarily before carrying on with his work. There was something about this dynamic you had with him. The way you felt with him behind closed doors and how very different it was when you were at work. It was both infuriating and exhilarating all at the same time.

When you walked into Stechner’s office and closed the door, he motioned for you to have a seat. “Y/L/N, first off, I want to congratulate you on a job well done yesterday.” You nodded, but he continued speaking before you had a chance to express your gratitude. “But we need to talk about you and Agent Peña.” Your face ran hot. “W-what do you—” Your tongue tripped over itself as you tried to formulate your words. But Stechner silenced you with his hand in the air. “Look, don’t bullshit a bullshitter, alright?” He rubbed his chin, the sound of the stubble scratching against his palm loud enough to hear from across the room. “Y/L/N. Let me give you some advice. I don’t care if you sleep with your coworkers. Do what you want. But you might be careful with that one. That’s all I’m saying.” The fact that he was trying to tell you what to do with your personal life was a bit presumptuous and frankly, it pissed you off. It took everything in your power to not scowl at the man and hurl a shoe at his balding head. “Thanks, Chief. But I’m a big girl. I can make my own decisions.” You spun on your heels and took your leave without so much as another word.

You had half a mind to tell Javier what had just transpired, but when you turned the corner you found that he was not sitting at his desk. You looked over at Steve and he shrugged at you lackadaisically. “He said he was leaving for the day. I figured you’d know.” He went back to clicking away at his typewriter. Your brow furrowed, more than a little upset that you honestly didn’t know. Perhaps Stechner was right. Maybe Javier just wasn’t the right person for you to be involving yourself with, after all. You walked over to your desk, scratching the back of your head as you considered it all. Feeling a bit defeated, you sat downcand there, under your typewriter, was a folded piece of paper with your first initial scribbled on the front.

“Go to my apartment after work.”

A key was taped to the bottom. Your jaw dropped. He gave you a key to his apartment? It was such a small gesture. But for a man like Javier, who didn’t really like to share himself with anyone, especially his home, you were floored. Your lips tingled into a smile as you bit your bottom lip. You chuckled to yourself.

Now the question remained, where was he off to for the rest of the day?

You spent the remaining part of the afternoon speculating over Javi’s whereabouts. The day finally dragged to a close, and you were eager to leave, as the suspense had been building in you for hours. You grabbed your keys, and Javi’s key, smiling again as your fingers brushed over its metallic surface, and blazed out the door to your car.

You arrived at Javi’s place a little after 6, jimmying the key in the lock and opening the door to find the place completely empty. He asked you to come over after work and yet, he wasn’t here to meet you? His coffee cup from that morning still sat on the kitchen counter. You walked into the bedroom, and on the bed was a large, flat box. A beige ribbon was tied around it and a note sat patiently waiting to be read.

“Querida. I’ll be home soon. Be ready by 8.”

Be ready? He told you to come over, not that you were going somewhere. Be ready for what? You pulled on the satin ribbon, the bow falling apart beneath your fingers. You lifted the lid of the box and you immediately teared up. It was a blue dress. Not identical to the one that had been destroyed but still beautiful. Tears rolled down your cheeks as you lifted it up, admiring the intricate beading. You sat down on the bed, the garment falling whimsically over your lap. Is this why he disappeared? To do this for you?

Once you had wiped away your gracious tears, you made quick work of putting the dress on. It fit like a glove and you wondered how he had managed to know your size. Then you remembered the dress you had thrown into the trash can this morning. He was sneaky and clever and…thoughtful? You shook your head in disbelief. Eat shit, Stechner. You thought, a smug grin dancing over your face.

It was 8:07 and you had just finished preening when you heard the familiar jiggle of the front door handle. Butterflies churned in your stomach and fluttered their way up into your ribcage. He opened the door and immediately his eyes drunk you in, a smile creeping over his face that was both sweet and devilish. You grinned and stepped so close to him you could hear the beads on your dress rustling against his jeans. “Hey, you.” You whispered, smiling into a tender kiss. Javier put his keys on the side table, but one hand remained behind his back. “Blue really is your color, querida.” He said coolly, the baritone scratch of his voice easing you to your core.

“What’re you hiding from me?” You asked, inquisitive like a child. He gave you a teasingly admonishing look, his umber eyes twinkling in a way that was rather uncharacteristic for Javier. He pulled a small box from behind his back that gleamed a metallic ocean blue. Tiffany’s. You pursed your lips, the butterflies now threatening to burst through your chest in a poetic rapture. He opened the lid of the box, revealing to you a necklace with a key shaped pendant. Your heart melted as you watched him pull it from the box. He wrapped the chain around you, the pendant dangling before your eyes. And that is when you saw the inscription. “Love, Javi.” He clasped the necklace closed at the back of your neck, his hands running down your arms. A chill surged through you, yet you could have sworn your ears were on fire.

You turned to him, your eyes welling with tears. An inscription that would be so simple to some, was overwhelming to you for so many reasons. The ‘L’ word was not really something you thought you’d ever hear from Javier. But seeing it etched onto a piece of precious metal… The permanence of it warmed your heart. “I don’t even know what to say.” You managed after a moment, your hand caressing the pendant that now laid against your chest. His fingers brushed under your chin. His eyebrows arched as he looked at you, his features soft despite their rigid nature. “That seems to be a trend for you today.” He teased, remarking on your brain-fart in the kitchen this morning. You chuckled, pinching his side playfully before changing the subject.

“You told me to be ready at 8. So, here I am, cowboy.” You chimed, spinning in a showy circle. He watched you twirl for him before making his way into the bedroom. “Give me 5 minutes to get cleaned up and then we can go.” He said with ease, still not alluding to where you were headed.

Javier parked on the side of a city street, and you climbed out of the car. Taking your arm in his, he leads you up the sidewalk and to the doors of a swanky restaurant. Was Javier Peña taking you on a formal date?

When you walked into the restaurant, your eyes were met with a rather fanciful flash of gold and marble. It was ritzy but classy. You were shocked that Javier was taking you out like this. Interrupting your thoughts, a familiar voice erupted from behind you. “Hey guys!” It was Steve and Connie. So, this was to be a double date. There was a part of you that was somewhat disappointed that you would not be enjoying a private dinner with Javier. But the more you considered the subject, the more you realized that this was much better. First and foremost, the planning that went into arranging all of this was not lost on you. It was evident that Javier had taken a half day at the office to set up this reservation, confirm with Steve and Connie, procure your dress, and buy your necklace. But there was also the fact that Javier was comfortable enough to take you to dinner, not just as his date, but with Steve and Connie, two of his closest friends. He was proud to have you on his arm. Proud enough to take you out in the presence of others and not hide you on a private date.

Connie approached you with a soft smile, her voice warm and inviting. “Hey! Nice to see you again!” You had only met Connie a couple of times before. Once at an after-hours bar thing, that of which Javi was not present for, and the second time was when she came to the station to deliver Steve’s forgotten briefcase. You had always enjoyed her company and found her to be a welcome presence. She started chatting about some random thing, but truth be told, you were so fixated on this whole experience you could not take your eyes from Javier. He was locked in conversation with Steve, but feeling your adoring gaze, he turned his eyes to you and the brief glance you exchanged was consumed with the flames of a California wildfire. “Peña.” The hostess called, interrupting the moment, as the four of you followed him to be seated at the table at the back of the restaurant.

Javier and Steve crawled into the large, round booth first and suddenly Connie chimed, “Actually, Y/N and I are going to run to the ladies’ room first. We’ll be back in a minute.” You were shocked at the bathroom invite and a little confused. But you followed her anyways, choosing not to question it. When you walked into the bathroom, Connie stepped over to the mirror and started fumbling around in her purse. You followed her lead, looking at your own reflection and taming some fly-away strands of hair that shaped your face.

“I know we haven’t talked all that much. But I honestly had to tell you.” She looked at you through the mirror, lining her lips with a soft pink lip liner. You tilted your head to the side slightly, waiting for her to continue. “Look. Steve and I have known Javi for a long time. And here lately…well…he’s been different.” Each word she managed seemed as though she was remembering how to form them before speaking. “Different how?” You inquired. Connie pulled out a lipstick that was similar in shade to the color she had just lined her lips with. “Steve tells me that Javier will find any excuse to talk about you. And we were both surprised when he asked us to meet you here for dinner tonight.” You pondered for a moment, considering everything she had said. “He talks about me?” You asked, not even really to Connie but more so to yourself. She answered anyways. “Oh yeah. He is absolutely smitten with you. We never thought we’d see the day.” She chuckled jovially, throwing the lipstick back into her purse and turning back to you. “He’s a good man, deep down.” She added with a gentle expression befalling her face. Then she smiled. “But I am sure I don’t have to tell you that. Come on, let’s get back to the table.” This day was full of surprises.

You followed her out of the bathroom and found your seat next to Javi. He looked at you, chill as a cucumber. His eyes seemed to ask, “is everything alright?” but he said nothing. You placed your hand under the table and onto his thigh reassuringly, feeling the sudden flex of his muscles beneath your palm. You gave his knee a gentle squeeze and a pat and he grabbed your hand in his, squeezing it.

The evening continued much like that, tender moments exchanged between the two of you, Javier and Steve talking over a case in a heated chat and you listening to Connie gush over their two girls. The waiter came and went, taking your order and returning shortly thereafter with a bottle of wine for the table. The four of you drank your way down to the bottom quickly and Connie was 2 sheets to the wind faster than you expected. You supposed that’s what happens when you stay at home with 2 kids and don’t get out often. At least she was an endearing drunk.

“What’s thiiiis?” Connie admired from over the table and at first you had no idea where her attentions were directed towards. But she reached her arm out to you for the bauble around your neck. “This is beautiful!” Your cheeks flushed as you beamed, touching your hand softly to the pendant that hung against your chest. “Javier surprised me with it this evening.” You tried to make it sound nonchalant, like you couldn’t be bothered to make this very big thing into a big deal. Connie looked over at Javier and back to you. “Reeeeally?” Connie teased and Javier’s lips remained in a tight line, only the faint glimmer of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You smirked and looked back at Connie, flipping the pendant so she could see the heartfelt-for-Javi inscription on the back. Connie’s eyes twinkled as she read those two simple words and her jaw fell partially agape.

Steve, realizing there was something more important going on than his own topic of conversation, stopped talking and brought his focus to you and Connie. “Wow. Javier using the ‘L’ word.” He contributed, wincing as Javier kicked him from under the table. You held the pendant against your chest as if to absorb it into you completely. “He has spoiled me today.” You said softly and interlocked your fingers with the man next to you. A formidable stroke of panic died away with the pressure of your hand. You could feel the tension easing from his body at your touch.

The server arrived with everyone’s plates and you were relieved there was a break in the dialog. You could tell it was making Javier uncomfortable and that was the last thing you wanted. You knew that he had stretched far outside of his comfort zone today doing all these things for you. The least you could do was protect him from any further discomfort. You changed the subject, pulling on the first thing that came to your mind. “Connie, is Mirella walking yet?” You inquired after their youngest, who was pushing a year old. The blonde women’s face lit up like a light show at the mention of her child, welcoming the opportunity to rave about her. You knew this was all that was needed and for the next 45 minutes, Connie and Steve talked about their daughters. You and Javier were content to listen, shoulders brushing against one another on occasion, the fabric of his grey slacks tickling your bare leg as he pulled into him as tight as he could manage.

Connie glanced down at the slim gold watch around her wrist and her back straightened against the seat. “Oh, we gotta’ get home.” Steve looked at the time and agreed steadily, trying to flag down the waiter. Javier took a drag from his cigarette and said, “I got the check. Don’t worry about it.” Steve and Connie stood in earnest and thanked Javier for his generosity. Everyone extended their goodbyes and the couple left, leaving you and Javier alone in the semi-circle booth that seemed to swallow you both.

The space between you closed quickly as Javier inched himself tight against you, so close you could feel the heat of his body pulsing from his skin. You were overwhelmed with feelings, but all thoughts were muzzled as Javier’s lips touched yours gently, his tongue grazing your bottom lip with such fragility you questioned whether it happened at all. “I’ve been wanting to do that all fucking night.” He whispered as he pulled from you slightly, his breath dusting over your lips in warm wisps. Your face assumed a deep tropical burn as you felt his hand begin its ascent up your skirt. “Javi?” You muttered incredulously, squeezing your thighs together. Was it really the best idea to be doing this in public? Your eyes darted across the restaurant, which was essentially empty. There were tables with patrons towards the front but being at the back of the dining room, you were tucked away. Out of sight, out of mind was not usually the ideal scenario for a dine-in experience, but in this case, you were thankful.

He pried your legs open with his fingers. “Shhh.” His face tipped sideways as he watched you, his fingers finding your underwear and rubbing against them in slow, methodical sweeps. You sucked in a deep inhale and Javier’s eyes were hungry as they danced over your face, soaking in every change in expression he drew from you. Pushing your panties to the side, he touched your damp pussy and your hips slid down, legs spreading just a little wider. He smirked at your wanton acquiescence. You whined softly as he tucked one of his fingers inside of you. “Quiet, querida. Look at me.” He forced you to lock eyes with him as he fingered you under the white linen tablecloth. His thumb began its diligent ministrations along your clit as he added another finger, pumping in and out of you with debilitating finesse. Your brows began to wrench, and he knew that look too well. You were close. He drove harder and faster, the squelching of your pussy over his hand loud enough to be heard by anyone nearby. The table trembled under his elbow jerking back and forth and a desperate cry escaped your lips as your eyes fell behind your lids. You felt his mouth crash onto yours, absorbing the cries of your orgasm and swallowing them into a kiss as your cunt spasmed violently around his fingers. You moaned for him, his tongue snaking with yours as your bliss faded into oblivion and you were driven nearly to tears at the sensation.

When your seizing muscles had finally found their resting point, Javier pulled his fingers from you and you let out an exhausted groan at the sudden absence of him. He took his fingers into his mouth, savoring the taste of you before wiping his hands on a napkin and tossing it onto the table. Your breathing had stabilized, but your face was still a tad flushed when the waiter arrived with the check. Javier handed him a credit card, not even bothering to look at the balance. He finished his glass of wine and lit a cigarette, his back turned half-way to you as he waited for the man to bring back his card. You marveled at him as he stared hollowly into the dark expanse of the empty restaurant. Looking at him, you’d never guess that he had just violated you so perfectly beneath this very table only minutes before. He was calm, the muscles in his arms lax and steady as he brought the cigarette to the very lips that had just devoured your rapturous moans.

The waiter returned with the check tray and Javier signed the tip and slipped his card back into its designated slot inside his well-worn wallet. He stood, extinguishing the cigarette with a couple dabs into the ashtray and as though he suddenly remembered you were there, he extended his hand to help you out of the booth. “Let’s go home, querida.” Home. It was such a basic word that had so many different meanings. But to you, Javier was home. It didn’t matter where you were, only that he was with you.

“Mother---fucker.” Javier cursed under his breath at the lock of his apartment door. Hard, brown beetles thudded against the dull porch light as if to mock his struggle. You took his hand in yours and placed the other on the doorknob. “Wiggling it like that will only break it. Here.” You lifted up gingerly on the key and the doorknob simultaneously, and it unlocked with ease. Javier looked at you, that cutting cynicism you were so familiar with. Perhaps because you knew his own front door better than he did. You stepped inside of the dark apartment and he flicked on a dim lamp next to the couch. He took your hand in his and pulled you into the bedroom. You were keen on finishing what he had started in that restaurant. But Javier had yet another trick up his sleeve for the evening.

He opened the closet door, pulling out three red boxes. He placed them on the bed. “Put this on. Then come out and let me see you.” He brushed his fingers over your cheek and down your chin before leaving the room and shutting the door. You slid your hands down your blue dress, feeling the roll of beads scribble against your palms. Lifting the lid on the first box, you peeled back a layer of black tissue paper to reveal a rather intricate lacey get up, fully equipped with garters, stockings, and lots and lots of hooks and ribbon. A larger box held a pair of black high heel shoes that were so high you knew they were not intended for walking at all. The final box, a skinny little thing, opened to a black leather crop with a velvet handle and a paddle on the opposite end. “Oh my.” You bemused, excited for what this night was turning into.

You unzipped your dress, slipping free from it and began making heads or tails of the slinky black number. The more you toyed with it, however, the curiouser of a project it turned out to be. It only took you three times to understand the order in which everything was intended to be put on. But finally, pleased with your work, you stood in front of the mirror to examine the finished product. Small patches of your skin could be seen through the lace bodice and the garters pulled the stockings up your thighs, the dark seams racing down the backs of your legs like black ink. You kept your key-shaped necklace on, unlikely to ever remove it. You slipped the shoes on, your ankles only wobbling a bit before catching your balance. With the crop in hand, you fluffed your hair and made your way to the living room, where Javi would be waiting for you.

But to your dismay, when you stepped into the living room, looking like something out of a raunchy magazine, you saw Javier slumped on the couch, his head rolled back against the cushions, fast asleep. The usual crease in his brow was gone as his lips puffed beneath his mustache in easy, sleeping breaths. You knew it had taken you a bit longer than anticipated to put this on, but you certainly didn’t go through all this trouble just to watch him sleep.

Suddenly struck with an idea, you went back into the bedroom and pulled one of Javier’s ties from a hanger. It was soft beneath your fingers, the burgundy, sateen fabric perfect for what you had in mind. Javier was still sound asleep on the couch, his hands laying limp in his lap. He was such a different person in sleep, so soft and unassuming. Such a contrast from the hard and tense man the daylight knew him to be. He was a heavy sleeper so you knew your next action would not wake him. Sneaking closer, you wrapped the tie around his head to act as a blindfold, careful to drape it over his eyes, ensuring there would be no peaking. He stirred only slightly, a rough snore of an inhale pulling into his lungs before he smacked his lips and settled back into his slumber. You fought back a giggle, finding his humble state to be quite charming.

You chewed on your lower lip before decidedly stepping over to his cassette player. Your fingers hovered over the spines of each cassette, trying to decide what would be the most fitting for this occasion. Having landed on the perfect selection, you smirked, popping open the case and dropping it into the cassette deck. How Soon Is Now – The Smiths. It was the perfect balance between sweet and sexy. You skipped to the track and hit play, turning up the volume and stepping back to Javier.

As the music began to carry throughout the room, his head rolled, hands instinctually reaching for whatever obstructed his vision. You swatted at his hands with the leather crop and a confused “Wh—” dropped from his lips. You lifted your foot onto the couch and between his legs, the pointed toe of your new shoes grazed the crotch of his pants. “It stays on until I say so.” You said, before leaning over and kissing him amiably on the lips. “Come on. You can’t be serious?” He retorted, somewhat frustrated, reaching for the blindfold again. You popped him on the wrists with the crop once more. “What…did I say?” Your voice was firm.

Javier adjusted himself on the couch cushion, his jaw tensing as he bit on his bottom lip. You could not tell at this point if he was irritated or aroused. But he was obviously playing along, having not ripped the tie from his face by now. He sighed. “Let me see you.” His voice caressed you like dark honey. You clenched your eyes shut, finding it so hard to say no to him. But if you didn’t know any better, you would say Javier was being compliant to this tilting scale of dominance. Without warning, you dragged the edge of the folded leather against his sinewy neck. “You fell asleep. So, I am taking control.” He tilted his head back and let out a reluctant moan, chuckling low in his chest, as if to say—”So I see”—but he let you continue, captive as an elephant chained to a plastic lawn chair.

Your hands raced up his chest, slowly unfastening each of his buttons to reveal his bare skin beneath. The lilt of the song continued in the background as you took one of his nipples in your mouth and he arched against your tongue with a sharp groan. The flesh piqued under your ministrations and his fingers tangled in your hair. As much as you loved it, you pulled away. Popping him on his wet nipple with the pliant leather crop, you chastised him as he flinched. “Ah ah. No touching.” You lamented, and you watched his fingers dig into the arm of the couch. Outwardly, he appeared angry, but the bulge in his pants gave his true devotions away. You parted his legs, unbuttoning his pants and rubbing your hand against his cock that was fit to bursting at the seams. He jutted his hips upwards, his fingers fidgeting with the tie around his head. He gulped as if swallowing a ping-pong ball and managed, “You know, I bought that crop for you, querida.” You grinned, although he could not see it, and straddled him on the couch. “Mmm. Yes. And I am quite enjoying it.” Javier chuckled again, feeling the dull scratch of the crop as you pulled it down his chest. You pressed yourself down onto him, grinding against his hardening cock that was still tucked politely in his trousers. “Seems like Daddy likes it too.” You whispered before sucking on his ear lobe and lifting the tie from his head.

This was all the permission he was willing to wait for, his hands immediately searching over your back and legs as though they were in pursuit of something hidden beneath. He was drunk at the sight of you, running his hands over your waist. “Fuck, baby.” Was all he could say as his hands continued their journey. “Stand up. Let me see all of you.” You did as you were told, standing up and giving him a little spin. The song was nearly over, and your hips swayed back and forth to the sultry rhythm. Javier’s fingers slit their way beneath the garter that raced over your ass, snapping it hard and creating slight welt in its wake. You felt his hands traveling up the inside of your thighs and you were so distracted you weren’t prepared for him to snatch the leather crop from your hand.

Javier stood quickly, relinquishing control as he restrained you, the crop handle spanning over your chest, secured in his grip on either side of you. “Play time’s over.” His voice was low and scathed the nape of your neck. You could feel his erection pressing against your ass and you bent over slightly, relishing in the pronounced shape of his cock grazing your ass through his pants. One of his hands dropped from the leather apparatus and cupped your ass cheek aggressively before delivering a hardy slap for good measure. “Go.” He commanded. You assumed he meant to the bedroom and you did as you were told. He was close on your heels, peeling his pants down his legs as he stood in the bedroom doorway, eying you sharply as you sat on the bed.

You were hungry for him and he knew it. He climbed on the bed and you rolled him onto his back, smiling devilishly. He wouldn’t allow this for very long as your knees pressed into the bed on either side of him. He went to make some snarky remark, but you leaned over, interrupting him with an open-mouthed kiss. The key-shaped pendant that dangled around your neck fell into his mouth as you closed over him, your tongue swirling around the metallic trinket and touching his. His hands cupped your waist as you straddled him, kissing him as deeply as you could. You finally broke the kiss and he sucked the charm as you pulled it from his lips. “It’s my turn, sweet thing.” Javier crooned with lust-filled eyes and he tumbled you over and onto your back.

As much as you enjoyed being in control, you loved the way he claimed dominion over you. He hovered above you, naked as the day God made him. You went to kick off the heels, but he struck the side of your thigh with the crop. “Leave them on.” You smirked, slipping it back onto your foot. “Lay back.” He commanded to you again, this time more forceful. You dropped your head back onto the pillows and his skilled hands moved fluidly over the hooks and bows, peeling the top of your lacy bustier down and revealing your breasts to him. It didn’t take long for the folded leather of the crop-end to find your nipple in a quick pop. Your brow furrowed with a whimper, but he immediately leaned in to suck the pain away.

You moaned helplessly, writhing as your hands found his dark hair. The paddle found the side of your ass swiftly and you yelped in surprise. “Ah ah. No touching, Peaches.” You pouted, reminded of your own power-play, and seeing you would now pay the price for it. Javier dropped the crop against your neck and down your chest, circling your overlooked nipple. You tensed, bracing yourself for impact but he just continued to taunt you in lazy circles. You arched yourself into the motion of it and he pulled away. “Be still.” He ordered. You whined and he popped your nipple thusly, this swat harder than his last. You let out a winced cry. “Will you be good for me, querida?” He asked you simply with a strained counterfeit of ease as he leaned over you. His cock hung heavy between his legs and grazed your stomach, a thread of precum stringing across your belly. You nodded, almost forgetting that he had asked you a question. You were met with the paddle on the side of your ass. “Speak, querida.” He insisted, the tingle left behind when the paddle moved away was like the sting of an ornery wasp.

“I’ll be good for you, Javi.” Your words were surprisingly soft and yielding and it almost caught him by surprise. He nearly melted for you. He kissed you lovingly. “Good girl.” He added and proceeded to remove the complicated trappings of your outfit, careful to keep your garters, stockings, and shoes in place. Javier was well-versed in the workings of lingerie. It both bothered you and turned you on concurrently. His fingers slipped between your wet folds with ease and for a brief instant, you were transported back to the restaurant where you came all over those same fingers mere hours ago. You moaned ardently and he brought his mouth to your cunt, lapping at you languidly. His fingers continued running up and down your slit and you spread your legs wider for him. He pulled away.

“Fuck—please, Javi.” You pleaded with him to return to you and you were instantaneously met with a leather slap against your aching cunt and you screamed in shock and pleasure. “Beg for it.” He boomed with a cadence much more insistent. You moaned desperately, your pussy spasming for something to fill it up and grasping at nothing. “Javier, please!” You wailed again, cueing the sharp swat of the crop onto your weeping pussy yet again. You growled earnestly, now all but shaking for him to fuck you senseless. “Again.” He commanded and you droned in frustration, squirming uncomfortably. The paddle popped the side of your ass in the same spot for the third time, and you were certain at this point it would leave a mark. Javi’s mark. The very thought of him branding you with that paddle sent your head spinning. “Javi. Mi amor. I need you inside of me.” You gushed, pleading urgently. He opened the lips of your pussy and the crop popped your clit. Your hips rose in earnest as the sound of your pleasured scream echoed through his apartment.

“Say please, querida. Say please and it’s yours.” His voice was rushed. His cock was swollen, veins ripping through his shaft like bolts of lightning. You gave him what he wanted, the word “please” tumbling from your lips in a pathetic sob. The crop fell to the floor and he lined himself up, his cock disappearing into you in one determined thrust. You cried out and the exhilarating ripple of your voice washed over him in a silver cascade, the feeling of your tight walls squeezing around him in a resplendent upsurge. He pushed himself deep into you, only driving in short pulses as he dropped over you and sucked a mark into your neck. His steady pulsation was driving you mad and you bucked under him. Curling his arms beneath you, he squeezed you tight as he began to fuck you with resolve. Every thrust drilled into you with a force of a jack hammer and he squeezed you tight in the cocoon of his arms.

His pace quickened and so did your heartrate, feeling your orgasm cresting over the horizon. “Javi, you’re gonna’ make me cum!” You signaled to him, your words broken and exhausted. He grunted in your ear and you lost all control, unfurling beneath him in a heap of shaking muscles and howling cries. His name poured from your mouth like holy water at a revival and you were drowning in his rapture. He kept pumping into you with vigor, his balls constricting as his cock prepared to erupt. “F-fuck, Y/N—I fuckin—” his words were interrupted by sputtered breaths—“love you!” The exclamation shocked you both but the moment the words left him, he came so hard you could feel the hot gush of his seed filling you up and oozing from you in lazy dribbles.

He rolled over onto the bed, his ribcage expanding and contracting in a labored execution. A few minutes passed as you both lay there in silence, heaving from your efforts. You both stared up at the ceiling, tracing shapes along the stippled sheet rock. “What I meant was—” He stopped. “I meant to say—” He stopped again, as if he were trying to erase his words from thin air. “I love fucking you.” He corrected himself, but the meaning in his words were not there. You didn’t doubt that he loved fucking you. But you also knew that was not what he meant. You leaned over and kissed away the mist of sweat on his shoulder. “Well. Would it help to know that I…love…fucking you too?” You were adamant about the singular inflection on each word and his head turned like a dial to check your expression. You threw him a smile and rolled your eyes playfully, equally as awkward as he was about this whole exchange. “Yes. That is good to know.” He added casually, but his tone had an inconceivable pitch of intensity.

He rose from the bed suddenly. “I, uh.” He patted his naked sides, as if in pursuit of pockets. “I’m out of cigarettes. I-I gotta’ go to the store.” He hurried, grabbing at his pants, and rushing his arms through his shirt sleeves. You sat up in the bed, watching him as you hoisted the sheet up over your breasts, which were still pink from his exertions upon you. “Javi…” You called to him in a tone of sweet patience and he stopped, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. You stared at one another for a moment and he slumped against the door frame. You crawled out of bed and stood before him, naked with a reassuring smile. He sighed, as if contemplating some expansive, universal problem and then added with a half-cocked smirk, “Get dressed. Looks like I’m taking you with me.” A Cheshire grin crept over your lips. “Can’t back out now, Peña.” You teased, kissing his cheek, and scurrying to put on your clothes. Taglist: @lv7867 @klaine-92 @rocketqueen @bounty-in-the-eye-of-the-mando @mrsparknuts @sarahjkl82-blog @beltzboys2015-blog

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#Javier pena #narcos #narcos fanfiction #javier pena x female reader #javier pena fanfiction #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal fanfiction

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salvejoon · 4 years

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Ferris Dink | jhs

⇒ Summary: Your boyfriend has a bucket list of places he wants to do the nasty and next up is a Ferris Wheel.

⇒ Pairing: Hoseok x female reader

⇒ Genre: Smut. It’s filth, actually, just pure filth.

⇒ Rating: 18+

⇒ Word count: 1.9k

⇒ Warnings: public sex, quickie on a Ferris Wheel, sir kink, dom/sub undertones, unprotected sex, creampie.

⇒ A/N: Hello everyone! I missed you! I hope all of you are well! This is my contribution to @jamaisjoons summer collab The Summer Bucketlist: Bangtan Edition! Please make sure to read the other author’s works as well as every one of us has worked hard on these. Shout out to @sombreboy for coming up with a title.

Jung Hoseok was many things. He was an extraordinary dancer, for starters, and he was talented enough to have his own dancing studio and live off of it. He was a great teacher and his students loved him. He was very patient and kind. He was a very bright person that could easily cheer anyone up with a single laugh. He was funny. He was smart and insightful. He was a family man.

Jung Hoseok also had many things. He had an amazing smile, one that was contagious. He had so pretty and expressive eyes that one could easily drown in them. He had the cutest dimples. He had the softest skin. He had a body that was sculpted by Gods.

Jung Hoseok was also a man on a mission.

The second the doors behind him closed, you felt the change immediately. The air grew heavy between the two of you, the tension rose, his demeanor changed and you already knew you were in some sort of trouble.

All you knew that it already had your body buzzing with excitement. Not that you would let him know that. You ignored how his eyes felt heavy on your person and moved to sit down as the ferris wheel began moving slowly.

It had been such a great day. The weather had been perfect for a date to the yearly carnival in the middle of town. Not too cold nor too warm. You had put on one of your cute summer dresses and put your hair up in a cute bun. Hoseok looked gorgeous in his brown shorts, white t-shirt and matching sneakers. His hair was parted and the inky black tresses looked soft. He had that little twirl of hair that you loved so much, dangling in front of his eye.

But you loved it even more when his sunglasses were pushed back and it pulled his hair away from his handsome face.

The two of you had enjoyed a simple lunch, had some cotton candy, shot darts at balloons and Hoseok had gifted you a teddy bear. You had strolled through the carnival, hand in hand, still as in love as you had been in the beginning of your relationship, simply enjoying each other’s presence and company.

Until he spotted the ferris wheel. Then he’d grown adamant on riding it and while you didn’t care much for heights, you agreed because it was such a simple request.

Now you doubted that it was simply he wanted to ride it.

“Aren’t you going to sit down? You might fall over.” You patted the space next to you and smiled sweetly at Hoseok.

“It’s not moving that fast, babe.” He reasoned and you shrugged, turning to look out the window. You knew he was about to pounce you any second. It wasn’t as if he was trying to hide the growing tent in his shorts.

“The view is amazing from the top, I think. Already now I can see half of the city!” You exclaimed, looking out on the carnival below, to the river that ran through the city and the skyscrapers in the distance as the sun was slowly setting behind them, “It’s so beautiful with the colors, don’t you think?”

“Not as beautiful as you.” You couldn’t help but smile at the sweet compliment and you didn’t flinch when you felt his fingers grace your chin gently to make you look up at him.

“Flatterer.” You mumbled before his thumb glided across your bottom lip, “You’re really not going to sit down and enjoy the view with me?”

“I already am enjoying the view.” His grip on your chin tightened slightly as he stared into your eyes.

You smiled once more, noticing how his eyes darkened as his gaze travelled further down your body, taking in how your cute but flimsy summer dress hugged you in all the right places.

“This dress, Y/N, has been provoking me the entire day.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” His eyes snapped back to yours at your nonchalant tone and he raised a brow, “But you already know, don’t you?” He leaned down, his nose bumping yours gently, “Because you’re a fucking tease.”

Your smile turned into a grin and it only widened when Hoseok growled and pulled you up from the seat and slammed you against the side of the cabin, the plexiglass groaning slightly from the force.

His hands moved to your ass immediately, grasping the globes roughly, lifting up your dress and he buried his face in the junction of your shoulder and neck, nipping at the skin. You spread your legs automatically when you felt his right leg trying to pry them open. You sighed deeply when you felt him lick a fat stripe from your neck to your collarbone, moving his hands from your ass to your shoulders, pushing the straps of your dress down, then moving to the front of your dress to pull the upper part down, revealing your breasts to him.

“No bra either? You really are a fucking tease, baby.” He growled as his hands moved to cup them, “But you’re mine.”

“Hobi, we don't have enough time to-” Your sentence ended with a whine as his lips enveloped your nipple, licking it and gently nipping it, causing it to harden and stiffen.

He released your nipple with a pop and straightened back up, nuzzling your nose with his, “It’ll be quick, baby, don’t worry.”

“Please don’t leave me hanging.” You teased and he smirked as his hands moved to your ass again, his right leg pushing up against your center.

“Since when have I ever left you behind, hmm?” He asked, winking at you before kissing you briefly.

The gentleness disappeared as he ended the kiss way too quickly and whirled you around, placing a hand between your shoulder blades, pressing you against the plexiglass. Then you felt his breath whisk past your ear as he whispered, “I asked you a question, baby girl, and I want an answer.”

There was a smack to your right asscheek which caused you to yelp and you shook your head, “Never.”

“Never what?”

“Never sir. You never leave me unsatisfied.” You heard him hum behind you before there was a smack to your other cheek and you bit your lip to contain a whimper. Excitement bubbled in your stomach as the clinking sound of buckle opening reached your ears.

You and Hoseok were definitely adventurous but this was very different from fucking in a bathroom stall at a club or in a parking lot. Here, inside the cabin which had windows on all sides, you could easily get spotted by the other people on the ferris wheel.

The thought of getting railed by your boyfriend while being watched caused a moan to escape you and Hoseok chuckled darkly as he zipped down his shorts.

“Eager, Y/N?”

“Please.” You whined and pushed back against him.

“Begging already? That was fast, baby girl.” He leaned forward and placed a peck on the back of your neck, one of his hands travelling between your thighs, his long fingers pressing against your already ruined panties, “And I can feel why. You’re so wet.” His index finger pressed against your clit which caused your hips to buck and you let out a small cry. He hushed you and pulled your panties down to your thighs. Sounds of fabric shuffling made your spine tingle in anticipation and that feeling only grew stronger when you felt the bulbous head of his cock glide through your wet folds. You keened and whispered out a soft ‘please’ to which Hoseok responded by placing a kiss to your lower back as he rammed his cock into your soaking cunt.

A soft gasp escaped you as you felt the air being punched out of your lungs. The stretch burned but it only added fuel to the fire that was slowly spreading from your abdomen to the rest of your body. You steadied yourself against the plexiglass with both of your hands as your boyfriend pulled back, only to ram back in, setting a punishing pace that rattled your bones.

“Shit.” You heard Hoseok curse as his hands grabbed your hips hard, nails digging into your skin, “Y/N, you’re going to be the death of me.”

“F-fuh-Fuck,” You panted, reaching back with a hand to grasp at his arm, “I’m already close.” You managed to say, craning your neck to look back at your boyfriend. His skin glittered with sweat and as the ferris wheel rose every higher, the rays of the setting sun hit him, coating him in an amber glow that had your heart constricting in your chest.

“You’re so, ah, fucking pretty, Hobi.” You strained a smile forth as he let out a breathless chuckle, his pacing never faltering, “It’s unfair.”

“Y-You always say the randomest shit, baby, fuck, I love you.” He groaned, tilting forward, caging you in as he braced a hand on the plexiglass, next to yours. The slight change in position made his cock hit deeper and you stuttered out curses as he kept hitting a spot that had you seeing stars. Every nerve-ending was buzzing and the coil in your abdomen tightened so much that you were left breathless.

Hoseok felt you approaching the edge fast and he moved his hand from the glass to your bun, his fingers grabbing a hold on your hair, making you cry out. He felt the cabin being to sway gently as his thrusts grew harder, deeper and more punishing.

“You’re mine, baby girl.” He growled, tugging at your hair, making you bend your back as you huffed out a reply, “Louder.”

“I’m yours, sir. Only yours!” You cried, tears forming at the corners of your eyes.

“Good girl.” He praised before his other hand snaked between your legs and easily found your clit, “Now cum.” He commanded as he began applying a gentle pressure to the nub. You trembled before tensing up, breath hitching in your throat and you could only let the tears roll from your eyes as you came. Hoseok cursed lowly as you clenched around his cock, your cunt gushing with your cum, giving him an easier slide. His cock rammed you again and again, sending you into overstimulation and you wailed as he chased his own high.

“I’m going to fill you up, baby girl.”

“Please, sir.” You managed to croak out. Your sweet plea was just what he needed to hear because he slammed into you one last time before letting out a long whine as his cum coated your walls. You heard his soft praises for you, a happy but exhausted smile on your lips. You winced as he pulled out and put his shorts back on, his cum slowly starting trickle out of you.

“You okay, baby?” Hoseok asked as he put your panties back in place and adjusted the bottom of your dress before moving you to the seat, gently sitting you down, “I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

“Hobi, you know I fucking love it when you’re rough.” You half-sighed, half-chuckled as you pulled your straps back up and pulled your hair back into a low ponytail, “It was great and I am perfectly fine.”

He smiled and pecked your lips and then he sat down next to you as the ride came to an end. He waved to the guy controlling the ferris wheel and the guy nodded before starting the ride once more.

Hoseok drew you into his arms, kissed your forehead as the two of you simply enjoyed the view this time.

“I can now check off ‘Ferris Wheel’ on my list.” He murmured.

“You have a list?” You turned to him with a raised brow.

“I do. Next up is a photobooth.” You already knew by his smirk that he had probably already spotted one somewhere at the carnival, “You game for another round?”

#tsb collab #btscreatorscorner #thebtswritersclub #cypherwritersnet #Hoseok x female reader #Hoseok smut

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visionsofus · 3 years

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Hey what's up? I was wondering if you still take requests for the wanda and vision mixtape. It's one of my favorites. If you have time I would love for you to consider the song Rewrite the Stars from the Greatest Showman. I love this song and I think it really fits them. Thank you so much for your work and what you contribute to this Fandom!

hi! I do still take song requests for Wanda and Vision's mixtape (despite the stack of them waiting in my inbox - I'm so sorry to those I haven't gotten around to yet, creative flow comes and goes) This song is such a great fit for them so thank you for requesting, it was lots of fun to write! thank you for your support 🥰

Track #26: Rewrite the Stars - Zac Efron and Zendaya

| read on AO3 here | mixtape playlist | send me an ask with your song/prompt request |

Synopsis: Things are changing between Wanda and Vision. Naturally a big charity even is the best place to confront their confusing emotions, no? featuring some serious yearning and a dance scene, because I love confessions mid-waltz.

Vision frowned at himself in the mirror.

There was nothing wrong, in fact the suit he had on had been perfectly tailored. Vision had been excited at the premise of having a piece of clothing that was made specially for him, and real at that. Tony had presented the options and given how significant the event was, Vision thought it might be worthwhile to have a proper suit that wasn’t just one of his constructs. He enjoyed being able to create whatever he wanted to wear, but he wanted tonight to be normal, as normal as he could be.

Now that he had it on it was underwhelming. Not to say he didn't appreciate the gift. It was a piece of art. A three piece of different shades of something similar to charcoal. The jacket glittered; its fabric featured iridescent silver threads that shifted when he moved under the light. The trousers matched the double-breasted vest, though they were a lighter shade of grey.

No, no it wasn’t the suit that was the problem.

It was the prospect of the event itself, the idea that all eyes would be on the Avengers, expecting a certain level of behaviour. Vision much preferred the days he spent with his friends at the compound, secure in the fact that they knew the real him. And more than anyone else, Wanda knew the real him, knew the face that he showed to the public and the press wasn’t.

Plus, Vision would be expected to dance – he had never had reason to dance or move in such a way before and he was dreading it. But then there was also the prospect that he might dance with Wanda and that raised his spirits marginally. Though, whether or not she would wand to dance with him was another question.

Things had been changing between them and Vision felt as though Wanda was even more hesitant to confront those changes than he was. All it had taken was one fateful night together. He hadn’t stayed by her side since Wanda’s first month at the compound, when her rest was so riddled with nightmares that she couldn’t bear to be alone. In the year since it had become a growing rarity for Vision to stick out the night by her side.

But then a week earlier Vision had been preparing to sleep, even if it just meant lying in his bed and doing nothing for eight hours. His body had been in need of a little downtime after several missions in quick succession. He’d been settling in to rest when there had come a knock at his door, of course he said come in, less phased than his teammates by the prospect of unannounced guests.

It was Wanda, who else would be knocking at his door so late at night. She’d walked in hesitantly but there had been a hard set to her jaw. Vision hadn’t asked for her reasons, had just shuffled over in the double bed to make space. So, it was not common, this behaviour, but what had come next was worse. Vision winced recalling the memory with the vividness enabled by his high functioning mind. But he entertained his brain and let the memory play out, hopeless to prevent it. If anything, he wanted to relive it.

Vision woke slowly, relishing in the well-rested feeling that spread throughout his body as his awareness increased. For the first time it felt as though he had really slept.

As he became aware of his body he frowned and opened his eyes. In the memory he blinked a few times, as though trying to clear a dream from his eyes. There was Wanda, her face relaxed in slumber, one side of her mouth turned up at the corner as though she were in the middle of a good dream.

One of her hands was wrapped up in the cotton of his t-shirt, gripping it tightly like she was afraid he might float away. At that moment Vision had felt so light it was at risk of actually happening.

He stayed totally still as he gradually became conscious of where their bodies were in relation to each other. Their legs were tangled, one of Wanda’s knees hooked around his, the bare skin warm against his. One of his hands was tucked under his cheek and the other had apparently possessed a mind of its own and gravitated down to rest on Wanda’s hip.

Slowly he removed his hand, wincing as Wanda registered the movement and opened her eyes. The blue of her eyes was bright in the dimness of the room, but her pupils still turned to pin pricks as they adapted to the light difference. And then she caught sight of him, centimetres from her own face. Vision watched long enough to see her pupils dilate.

Vision shook his head and returned to reality, pressing both hands to his cheeks and feeling them as warm as they had been on that fateful morning. Wanda had mumbled something about training and practically fled his bed, her ears an alarming shade of red. And Vision had been left to sit there for a further half hour trying to absorb exactly what had happened.

Wanda was running late. She hadn’t meant to take so long to get ready, but it was just so difficult to figure out what she wanted to do with her hair. Ten minutes before they were due to leave for the function, she decided on leaving it down, curled loosely so it settled about her shoulders.

Heels in one hand and holding the edge of her dress in the other she hurried down the stairs for the front door. There were three cars waiting outside, not the usual SUVs they traveled in but sleek BMWs.

A couple of smart cars held nothing to her dress. It had been a gift from Nat a few months earlier, but Wanda hadn’t had the opportunity to attend anything fancy enough that merited putting on the gown. Earlier she’d struggle to make it to the bodice through the pleats of rich red fabric that made up the skirt. Now that it was on it was a perfect fit, flowing off her hips in waves of fabric that shifted with every move. It was the most elegant thing she had ever worn, Wanda only hoped she would do it justice as the evening went on.

The doors on the front two cars were shut so she hurriedly made her way round to the backseat of the third.

Steve sat in the passenger seat with Natasha and Vision taking two of the spots in the back. As Wanda went to step in Natasha caught her gaze and smiled mischievously.

“Hang on, Vision do you mind swapping with me? It’s hard to sit in the middle with my heels and the console.”

Wanda’s stomach dropped as she settled into her seat and Vision and Nat got out of the car to trade spots. And here she had been worried about holding them up. Frustrated, Wanda huffed her hair out of her face, pushing the waves off her shoulder as Vision settled himself into the middle. The backseat was spacious enough, there was no way Nat had been that uncomfortable. No, it had been for Wanda’s benefit. She had confided in Nat on some of the changes occurring between her and the synthezoid now at her side but never had Wanda thought Nat would pull something so obvious and foolish.

It sent her cheeks turning a shade of red not so different from her dress.

The drive felt painfully long. Steve had kept it going with some small talk but that had died out into a stagnant silence. She was being dramatic; the others were probably fine with the silence but for Wanda it felt suffocating. Any other time and she and Vision would have been talking. They could talk for hours about anything, and he always knew what to say to put her at ease. Even their silent moments together felt comfortable. It was never like this.

In the end, she spent most of the drive focusing on moving with the car when it turned so she didn’t accidentally brush Vision. How had they gone from the casual intimacy of friends to this strange tension? It annoyed her, though she felt powerless to change things. Wanda didn’t know a whole lot about chemistry, but she knew whatever she and Vision had would blow up in their faces if they weren’t careful.

Finally, the glowing street lamps turned into the staticky light of cameras. For the first time, Wanda felt relieved by the assault of flashes on her eyes.

They approached a line of similar vehicles, all likely full of celebrities who had managed to scrape together enough of a network to score an invite to the Stark Industries charity event. Hurriedly, Wanda bent over and set about lacing her shoes up. The thick platform heels were chunkier than what would go with her dress but they made up for it in their steadiness. There had been talk of dancing and Wanda figured she was best off in comfortable and stable shoes than trying to balance on stilettos.

Busy fiddling with her shoes, Wanda didn’t feel the car turn until she was sent sliding across the leather seat. Vision’s reflexes were fast as always, his hands quickly steadying her, one at her back the other coming to rest at her hip. They both froze and Wanda looked up, hating how easy it was to lean into his touch. Vision’s eyes glittered in the dim light of the car, their brightness shifting as he took in her face. Suddenly she was taken back to that fateful morning the week before. She’d known it was a bad idea before she’d even made it to his room. Had known she should have run before he woke up instead of pretending to keep sleeping in the warmth of his presence, relishing in the familiarity of his hands on her body. What she would give to wake up to that every morning. But no – no this wasn’t happening, it couldn’t, it wasn’t in her cards.

“Alright, here we go,” Steve said unaware of what was unfolding in the backseat. He swung open the passenger door and they were immediately met with the clicking of cameras and shouting of the crowd.

Wanda moved away and Vision’s hands disappeared from her body so quickly she felt sure he had used his superhuman speed. She quickly finished tightening the strap of her shoe and threw her door open, taking Steve’s arm as he came to help her up.

Vision was left to scramble out of the car on his own as Nat hurried after Wanda who had practically stormed away from the car. He hung his head sadly, trying to pull himself together in time for the cameras.

At the front of the glamorous hall that was the location for the evening, Vision managed to skip the questions from the reporters outside. He didn’t often get questions, with the Tony and Steve taking the blow for the rest of them. Wanda had disappeared in a flash of red, heading up the stairs and into the hall before he could catch her. Tony caught Vision’s elbow and pulled him over for a photo. They smiled genially at the cameras which were entirely unaware of the underhanded question Tony asked.

“Everything alright, bud?” Tony whispered through his smile. “Wanda looked a little frazzled.”

“Everything’s fine, we’re fine,” Vision lied, doing his best to smile in the direction of the cameras. He was yet to master Tony’s people pleasing smile.

A break in the flashing allowed them to speak a little more candidly. “Anything you need to tell me about?”

“Nope,” Vision said confidently, backtracking towards the stairs. “Everything’s peachy!”

The inside of the hall was larger and more confusing that Vision was prepared for. The dancing was in full swing. It surprised him, he didn’t know that humans still danced this way, it didn’t match up with what he had seen on television or the internet. It made him grateful for the simulations he’d been running in the back of his mind all afternoon in the hopes that he wouldn’t be caught unawares. He must have included a waltz or two in there somewhere.

The building itself was grand, its ceiling arcing high above not unlike the interior of a church. Enormous windows lined the walls, curtains shifting as couples span around the dance floor. The architecture felt old, the whole building felt old to him. The chandeliers that hung from the ceiling felt out of place, overly modern compared with their surroundings. He was momentarily distracted by curiosity, reaching into the power source of the building the electricity surging through its walls to power the bright lights. Interesting, he thought. It was all authentic wiring but he couldn’t understand how such old powerlines could power the sheer amount of light sockets the room held. He reached further and felt the familiar warmth of an arc reactor, hiding in the basement of the building. It made sense, this was a heritage building that Tony had received patronage of from his parents. This tangent came to a quick end as Vision made his way around the edge of the crowded middle of the hall. He ignored the looks he was getting, the general curiosity of the humans for once felt unimportant.

Vision bit his lip as his eyes search for Wanda. What he would say when he found her, he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure if she wanted an apology or if he even wished to give one. Vision couldn’t feel sorry for the emotions that thrummed through his heart when he saw her. He didn’t feel sorry for wanting to be more than a friend to Wanda. And it was difficult to see such feelings as one sided, not when the tension between them had become so tangible in recent days.

He caught sight of Wanda near the centre of the dancing pairs, Sam Wilson was twirling her around and around. It was a wonder she didn’t get dizzy. Even from here, and over the sound of the string quartet, Vision could hear her peal of laughter as they goofed around. Vision was about to start making his way through the crowd when Natasha grabbed his elbow. It was the second time he had been forcibly stopped from going to Wanda’s side and he was beginning to get frustrated.

“Are you about to cause a scene?” Natasha asked, her grip tight on his arm.

Vision didn’t reply.

“Because I am all for making scenes,” Nat smirked, “but maybe not at a charity event?”

Vision looked sideways at Natasha, wondering precisely how much he should tell her. He trusted her, but also knew she was usually Wanda’s confidant.

“I just want to talk to her,” Vision said quietly. Natasha smiled fondly at him, her eyes shining with understanding.

“I’ll get you close enough.”

Vision was about to ask how she planned to do this when she grabbed both his hands and pulled him out into the swirling mass of couples. Vision thanked his lucky stars that he had taken the time to pick up some basics before tonight.

Natasha led, using her hands to weave around dancing couples. Vision smiled. He was nervous but Natasha’s ease as they danced made him feel more relaxed. Her grace on the battlefield had never been in doubt, but he had never seen her properly dance before. This Natasha was something else.

She smiled brightly as they spun around and around, getting closer and closer to Wanda and Sam who were still dancing on the other side of the room.

As they neared Natasha had Vision spin her around once before extending her out towards Sam and Wanda.

Nat tapped Wanda’s shoulder and held her hand out to Sam. “Mind if I steal your partner for a bit?”

Wanda grinned and scrunched her nose, “be my guest, I’m sure he’d appreciate someone who actually knows how to dance.”

“Yeah, but not someone’s who’s better than me!” Sam said indignantly but smiled at Nat and took her hand. Nat sent a meaningful look at Vision over Wanda’s shoulder.

Wanda turned around to leave the dance floor only to come face to face with Vision’s outstretched hand, and the barely restrained nerves on his face. To Vision’s surprise she didn’t hesitate in taking his invitation. Slowly they eased themselves back into the crowd for a waltz. Her hand slid onto his shoulder, as Vision rested his hand on her waist. This time Wanda didn’t pull away.

“You look beautiful, Wanda.” It was something of an understatement, but Vision didn’t quite know how to put into words exactly the reaction Wanda was giving him.

“Thank you, Vision,” she smiled her eyes looking everywhere except his face. “You look nice too.”

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you,” Vision began hesitantly.

“Yes,” Wanda sighed, not unhappily, “we do need to talk.”

They were quiet a few more moments, swaying with the violins echoing to the ceiling high above them. Wanda’s dress swirled about her legs, and Vision had to take care to note step on her hem. He’d never forgive himself if he stepped on her toes. The music shifted and the dancers began to change directions. Wanda and Vision did their best to follow suit. Vision pulled her closer to avoid the clumsiness of another couple.

Wanda shivered under his touch, her hand had shifted to brace herself against his colour bone, her thumb brushing his neck. He gazed down at her, wondering if she could feel how quickly his pulse was thrumming.

They must have looked strange, standing still that and so Wanda broke the spell by taking a step back. Vision pulled his arm back around, finding her waist again and began to dance slowly.

Wanda was looking at him fully now, and it took all of Vision’s periphery senses to make sure they didn’t get too lost in each other’s eyes and start crashing into other couples.

“You know I want you,” Vision said, hating how the words caught in his throat, a last attempt to stop himself from crossing their self-imposed line.

“No,” Wanda murmured, her eyes darting around apprehensively. “There are too many people.”

“Are you ashamed?” Vision pushed. He needed answers and if he had to be let down, he’d rather it be now.

Wanda frowned, her brows pulling together. She shook her head, looking down from him to gather her thoughts.

Vision started a little as she spoke within his head, she glanced up at him, her eyes glowing a dark red that matched her dress. ‘Of course, I am not ashamed of you, I would never, ever want you to think that.’

“Then—” Vision said out loud, but Wanda continued.

‘But there are doors we can’t go through.’

Vision did his best to think clearly so that she would hear his thoughts. His words were becoming too personal to speak aloud. ‘You say that, but the only thing that matters here is us, what we think and what we want.’

When Wanda didn’t reply for a moment, he repeated himself. ‘I want you.’

His meaning couldn’t be lost with her in his head. He knew she saw it, saw his feelings.

‘I know,’ her voice whispered somewhere between his ears. ‘It’s hard for me too—’

Vision waited for her to continue, barely conscious that they were still spinning across the marbled floor of the grand hall.

‘But I’m afraid – how can you be sure this will work. How do you know we won’t break each other?’

Her words said one thing, but his mind heard another. Wanda wasn’t worrying about herself, no, she was consumed by the fear that she would hurt him, break his newly fragile heart.

‘You underestimate my strength,’ Vision replied, smiling. ‘You couldn’t break my heart; it is what it is because of you. Will you not let us even try?’

When Wanda didn’t reply Vision spoke aloud. “No one gets to decide who we are without our permission.”

“This is bigger than us,” Wanda whispered, leaning closer to him.

“It shouldn’t be.”

“I know.”

Vision dipped his head down, to reach Wanda’s cheek and press a tender kiss to it. “I want to decide my own destiny, with you. I would rewrite the stars if it meant a lifetime by your side.”

Wanda didn’t say anything, and he wasn’t able to see her expression before she sent herself off twirling away. When she reached the end of his grip, he pulled her back in. For a second Vision thought his bold words would all be in vain, that his confession wouldn’t trump Wanda’s fears. But then she was right before him, nose to nose, sharing the same air. He gazed into her eyes, slowing their dancing until they had come to a stop in the centre of the dance floor.

“Okay,” Wanda said, her eyes bright and a smile on her face. “Let’s rewrite the stars then.”

Vision was starstruck, both hands on her waist and totally lost in what she had just said. He was equally as shocked when Wanda slid her hands up over his shoulders and pulled him down to her mouth.

Vision stopped breathing, lost in the sensation of her lips moving against his own. It felt right, as right as anything could feel.

Vision felt Wanda jump before there was a harsh ringing above them and a fizzling pop. When he opened his eyes, sparks were flying down from above and the room sank into darkness. There was a commotion of cries of shock from the patrons. Vision pulled back to look around, trying to figure out what had gone wrong and then he felt it, the absence of a connection he had forgotten he had even forged. Vision laughed, feeling giddy. Slightly embarrassed that all it had taken was Wanda's kiss for him to overload a building's power source and blow every fixture.

“I, um,” Vision bit his lip, “I might have had something to do with that.”

Wanda laughed and it was music to his ears. He kissed her again, smiling into her embrace. Wanda was wrong about this not being in their cards. They were chaos and order, destined to collide.

#wandavision #scarletvision #WandaVision fanfiction #scarletvision fanfiction #wanda x vision #wanda maximoff #the vision #visionsofusfics #its about the yearning #rewrite the stars

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