#if i post this on ao3 the series would be called Golden Boys.......

[prolix-yuy]

So if you’re feeling it, i would love a fic about Frankie’s first time as an escort…Thank you and love you lots💕

Mari my darling, this ask is sooooooo delicious! Especially because as much as we've alluded to Frankie's work, we haven't actually seen any of it yet. Though I'm gonna pull a little bit of a fast one on you in regards to the wording here, but I think you'll enjoy where it takes us.

Frankie's First Time

Pairing: Francisco "Catfish" Morales x F!OC "Lily"

Summary: What was Frankie's first time like?

Word Count: 6.9k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, descriptions of male and female bodies, grinding, oral sex (f receiving), we are dedicating another 2k words to Frankie's kitty king skills, fingering (f receiving), safe PiV sex, a whisper of ass play, Frankie AND Lily's filthy mouths, watch me make up shit about sex work.

Notes: This was a blast to explore how Frankie "auditioned" for Pope's, and how he got the reputation we all know and love. I also got to explore things from Frankie's POV, so we get some insight into exactly why he's so competent in places. Even though Ms. J is sitting out this story, we know she's thanking Lily for her service well into the future.

Cross-posted on AO3

Sex Worker!Frankie AU Series Masterlist

He’s not sure if he’s supposed to knock on the chipped blue door or let himself in. The whole situation feels weird, like an audition for a play he never learned the lines for.

Well, at least the metaphor’s pretty accurate.

“Come in,” floats through the wood, answering his question, and with a deep breath and a turn of the knob Frankie steps into a whole new world.

She’s walking to greet him when he steps over the threshold, a bright smile on her face.

“Pope said you’d be punctual,” she says, one hand on her hip as she surveys him. Now that he’s here and actually doing this - really considering sex work - his jaw locks up and hands wipe nervously back and forth against his jeans. He nods quickly, grimaces a smile, and scuffles his feet on her doormat. 

“Oh, you are a cutie, you don’t need to be this worked up around me. I don’t bite,” she says, taking the last steps to rub her arms firmly up and down his biceps. Her touch is comforting, the raise of her eyebrows and nod a well-earned reward. “Let’s sit down and chat. Do you want water, coffee, iced tea?” She coaxes Frankie further into her apartment, waiting for him to toe off his boots with a mumbled apology before sitting him on her maroon couch. Leaving briefly, she returns with two iced teas. Frankie gulps his down fast enough to make her smirk.

“So you’re friends with Ironhead and Golden Boy? And Pope too, of course.” Frankie’s eyebrows knit together in confusion until he makes the connection.

“Will and Benny, yeah. Pope sent them to you too?” he asks, twisting the cup in his hands to give them something to do. 

“What can I say, I’ve got a lot of experience vetting the talent,” she quips back, turning to tuck her knees onto the couch and face Frankie more fully. He takes a moment to actually look at her more than quick glances. She’s pretty but in a way that’s disarming, a way of watching him that makes him feel like she knows his secrets but won’t share. Her chestnut hair flows over her shoulders in silky waves, complimenting her warm skin and umber eyes. He thought she’d be in some tight little tube dress but the lightweight tank top and shorts compliment her natural beauty with a realness Frankie didn’t know he craved. Her toes are painted baby pink.

“You’re making me nervous you swallowed your tongue, honey, can you tell me how you’re feeling right now?” she says, and Frankie coughs out a laugh. 

“Sorry, I’m feeling…shit, way out of my depth,” Frankie says, leaning forward to put down the glass. He remains hunched, head in his hands as he takes a deep breath.

“One step at a time, baby, let’s start off easy, okay?” she says, and that firm hand on his arm directs his attention back. “They call me Lily. Not my real name, you know. Will and Benny picked their own, you have one in mind?”

Frankie leans back and slaps his thighs.

“No idea, my call sign was Catfish but…nothing much else.” Lily laughs, and the noise is soothing to his frazzled nerves.

“Catfish it is. Was it the whiskers?” she asks, reaching over to scritch her fingers lightly into Frankie’s scruff. The touch is surprisingly welcome, her demeanor calming. He didn’t think he’d be ready to be touched yet.

“Long story. You don’t think that would weird out…uh, clients?” 

“Might make them more intrigued.”

Her hand moves to settle on his thigh, and the familiar stirrings of intimacy through touch rumble under Frankie’s skin. But it’s too fast, brings too much of the artifice of this situation to the forefront, and Frankie balks.

“So where are you from?” he says, voice booming in the small room. He winces at the volume, but Lily doesn’t move her hand.

“Colombia. Came over with a bunch of other girls.”

Frankie remembers this part of the story.

“One of Peña’s informants?”

“More or less.”

“But you’re still…?”

Lily scoots closer to him, and Frankie tries to relax into her proximity. She is pretty, long limbed and smooth skinned and smelling of sweet soap. 

“I get to do something I enjoy and I make money. And this is the nicest place I’ve ever worked, though much quieter than I’m used to.” She taps Frankie’s thigh to turn his attention back to her. “If you don’t think you’ll enjoy it, I would recommend you not start. It’s not easy. If you’re not looking forward to the good parts, the not-so-great ones will make you miserable.” 

Frankie nods, thumb worrying at the denim stretching across his thighs. 

“What are you afraid of happening?” Lily asks, and now her knee is pressed against his thigh. The tension starts to bleed out of his shoulders. She’s good, no wonder why she’s Santi’s best girl.

“It’s, ah…it’s a lot of things,” Frankie starts. She waits, her hand moving to stroke soothing circles. “What if someone finds out that I don’t want to know? And what do I do with the…clients? Like how do I plan out what they want or figure it out and what if they don’t like it? Or don’t like…me. Am I…” Frankie pauses and looks, really looks at Lily. “Would anyone actually want me? I get Will, and Benny. But I’m not…” 

The rest of Frankie’s concerns slide back down his throat as he sighs and rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes. Lily lets the silence stretch for a moment longer.

“I’d recommend keeping the work between you and as few people as possible if you’re afraid of being found out, but it’s a risk you’re taking no matter what. A client could out you as much as a stranger.” Frankie hums and nods as she continues.

“As for what you do, Pope will give you some background. You’re not going in blind, which is a big plus to this setup. Are you taking all clients, or being selective?”

“I, uh…hadn’t thought about that. Probably women to start, and then…I’ll see.”

Lily’s lips curl at the corners.

“Full of surprises. Women can be hard if they don’t know what they want. Part of what we’ll do today is find your boundaries so Pope knows how to schedule your clients. If you don’t do men, he won’t give you any. If you might do something out of the ordinary if you have clear direction, he’ll talk it through with you. And if there’s something you’re very good at, you’ll be his go-to guy.” Lily’s fingers tap up his forearm thoughtfully. “We’ll find those things too. I’m a discerning lady, and if you’re good I’ll know.”

Frankie sighs and finally lets go of that last bit of tension holding him hostage.

“As for your last question…” Lily says, lifting up on her knees. “Can I sit on your lap, honey?”

Frankie’s eyes go wide, but he nods slowly at the request. Lily swings a leg over and settles on his lap, big hands going to her hips immediately. She smiles down at him and lets her fingers wander through his hair, tugging the Standard Oil cap off to free his curls.

“You’re worried they won’t want you, or like what you bring. But from my perspective, a broad-shouldered man with huge hands and the most kissable lips I’ve ever seen is underneath me, and if those big brown eyes are anything to go by, you’re a thorough, and attentive lover.” She swipes her thumb over his lips as he parts them. “When they open the door and see you standing there, big boy with soft eyes, their pussies are gonna throb.”

“Fuck,” Frankie breathes out, shuddering against her touch. 

“Soon enough,” she quips back. “First, ground rules. You never jump right into fucking. Always make sure you’re both clear on what she wants and how she wants it. Check in, make sure she’s not feeling pressured.”

“Of course,” Frankie says, confusion flitting across his face. “I thought everyone did that.”

“Oh sweetie, you are a slice of perfection,” Lily giggles, and Frankie’s hands tighten on her hips. 

“Take your time. Don’t rush it. You know how long she’s paid for, so give her every last moment. You might be the first person to ever give her undivided attention, and that will keep her coming back.”

“You ever get attached?” Frankie asks, his cock filling at her hot body pressing into his lap. Maybe this wouldn’t be so difficult. He’s certainly having a good time with her now.

“Yes, once or twice. You redirect those emotions into something useful. Channel those feelings into care for the person. You love how happy you get to make them feel. You’re attracted to how they open up and trust you. You’re giving them a valuable service and you enjoy that.” 

Frankie rolls his hips below her, and she tugs his hair with a cheeky smile.

“Lastly, before I see what you bring to the table, always be safe. Condoms always. If she wants something risky, for herself or you, that hasn’t been discussed, you respect your boundaries. And you walk away if it’s getting out of hand. Pope will always have your back.”

“Okay,” Frankie murmurs, his eyes hooding as his gaze licks over her body.

“Now,” Lily says, her voice dropping into a sultrier register. “I’d like to kiss you, Frankie.”

“Yes, please,” he murmurs back, tilting his head back for her descending lips.

She’s perfectly soft against his mouth, but firm as she cradles Frankie’s head. He moves his lips against hers, the gentle presses he usually starts out with before he deepens the kiss. She sighs into his mouth, hips rolling slightly as he strokes his fingertips up her spine. The pebbling of her flesh swells pride in his chest. 

“Mmm, feels good, Frankie,” she hums, backing off just enough to signal Frankie it’s his turn to show her what he can do. Splaying his large hands on her back, he leans up to meet her lips again, another chaste press before he slips the tip of his tongue along her bottom lip. She opens for him, and he thanks her with soft little laps, barely touching as his hands roam her back, the strong muscles of her thighs, weave through her hair. They’re rocking together in a rhythm neither consciously chose, Frankie’s cock starting to ache at the lack of pressure. 

Her nails scratch across his scalp, tugging his curls just shy of painful, and he delves his tongue deeper into her waiting mouth. She groans, sliding down his thighs to finally fit her core against his straining length. The welcome friction drives his kiss deeper, her teeth sinking into his bottom lip, tongues sliding more fervently. She finally breaks away, lips shiny and eyes bright.

“Mmmm, you’re a very good kisser. Let’s take this to the bedroom,” she says, lifting off Frankie’s lap. A small noise of protest leaves his lips at the loss, but he obediently follows through a plain hallway to a sparsely decorated bedroom. The nightstands are simple honeyed wood, a matching headboard behind the king-sized bed. The bedspread is an inoffensive dark gray, crisp white sheets folded primly at the head. Lily turns around and stands at the foot expectantly.

“I, uh…do you want me to just…” Frankie stammers, the confidence waning. 

“How about we do what you normally do, and I’ll chime in as needed. Show me your moves, handsome.” Her coquettish smile entices him to step forward and cup her face in his hands, brushing their noses together again before he parts her lips with his own and drinks from her. She melts against his front, fisting his t-shirt as he gathers the hem of her tank top in his bigger hands.

“Can I take this off you?” he asks, tracing his nose along her cheek as she nods. Pulling the thin fabric over her head, he takes in a sharp little breath that she’s not wearing anything underneath it. His hands travel up just below her pert little breasts, dark nipples tightening at his touch.

“I’d like to put my mouth on you,” he pants into her ear, waiting patiently for her breathy, “yes, Frankie,” before he guides her back, banding an arm around her waist before laying her down. On his knees between her spread legs he drinks her in, parted lips and hazy eyes and a body he wants to take apart until she’s a shuddering mess.

“Frankie,” Lily calls lightly, a smile brightening her face.

“Sorry, you’re just…beautiful,” Frankie says, allowing a little of the awe to creep in as he hovers over her prone body.

“I like it when you say what you’re thinking,” she replies, fingers back in his increasingly messy hair. He makes a note to keep it a little longer if this is the treatment he’ll get.

“I think there’s a lot more I want to taste than just these,” he purrs, lowering his mouth to wrap around her nipple and softly suck. Her back arches, legs caging in his narrow hips as she sighs at the clever licks of his tongue and drags of his lips over the supple flesh. Frankie loves breasts of all shapes and sizes, and her small handfuls are no different. He loves how his whole hand can dwarf their size, how large his thumb looks swiping over her puckered nipple. He switches to the neglected one, his thumb and forefinger rolling the wet bud in the absence of his mouth.

“Yes, Frankie, that’s so good,” she mumbles, thighs tightening around him. He drops his hips into the cradle of her sex, a shallow grind relieving some pressure while driving her pleasure higher. With a satisfied hum he lifts to capture her mouth again, lips plumper and reddened from his thorough work. She accepts with fervor, nipping and sucking at him until his hands find hers and he presses them into the mattress.

“You taste so fucking good,” he groans, dipping to lave his tongue along her neck. She squirms underneath him, reedy moans making his head spin. “Not faking any of this, are you?” he huffs, breaking the heady tension. Lily fists his hair again and pulls him to eye level, a sardonic smile on her swollen lips.

“Not a chance in hell, honey,” she rasps, and Frankie can practically feel his dimple pop out at her breathless admission. 

“Want to taste you here too,” he admits, rolling his hips against her hot core. “Want to make you cum on my tongue. Would you like that?” he asks, bolder in his question now that he’s coming into his wheelhouse.

“Yes, Frankie, fuck, definitely yes,” she pants, hands coming to tug at his offending clothing. He shucks his flannel and t-shirt, a brief moment of self-consciousness following. He knows he’s got a little bit of a softer stomach, no six-pack like Benny, and his hairless chest might be a little less manly than he wished, but when her eyes widen and her tongue comes out to lick her lips the thrill returns.

“Knew there was a tasty fucking body under there,” she teases, fingers tapping against his belt buckle. “I bet when you’re on top you make all the girls feel small under you. Those broad fucking shoulders. Can’t wait to get my legs over them.” Frankie’s cock slams to attention at her filthy mouth, taking a moment to palm himself while he settles on his knees at the foot of the bed. If he does this often enough, he’s going to have to bring a pillow with him. Or a chair.

“I’d never keep you waiting,” he shoots back, testing the banter. To his delight her eyes darken, lifting her hips as he eases her shorts and panties down her legs. Her glistening folds make his mouth water, and when he pulls her down the bed to his waiting face her thighs shake under his capable hands.

“Relax, sweetheart. You said you were gonna keep an eye out for what I’m good at?” he says, innocence written across his face. She quirks a brow and nods. “Perfect, because I am very good at this.”

She might have been preparing for a scoff, or a witty comeback, but when he lowers his mouth to her pussy and licks a wide stripe over her throbbing clit all he can hear is her garbled groan as he begins learning her cunt in earnest. Circling her clit with the tip of his tongue makes her hips rock. Sliding down to her entrance with slow-steady strokes arches her back generously. Teasing just at her hole eases her back into steadier breathing, but breaching it makes her whole body shudder. Every movement, every reaction he gets from his oral onslaught he files away, content with taking his time to map out everything that makes her thrash and sigh.

“You are good at this,” she gasps out, locking eyes as he looks up at her from where his face is buried in her folds. “Holy shit, you look so fucking hot like that,” she stutters out, his smile pressing into her cunt. 

“Love doing this, s’my favorite part,” he garbles into her flesh, wrapping his lips delicately around her clit and pulling soft suction into his mouth. She cries out, fingers tightening in his hair as a chanted, “Oh god, oh fuck, fuck Frankie, I’m gonna, holy shit I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that,” tumbles from her lips. He keeps it up for a moment more before releasing, her breaths coming out in ragged sobs.

“Would you like to come, beautiful girl?” Frankie murmurs, hands stroking soothingly along her bare thighs. She laughs briefly before reaching down to stroke his sticky lower lip.

“Show me what you can do, big boy,” she challenges, and the glint in his eye is her final warning before he sets to his task. Long, firm strokes from her hole to just below her clit work her up, her hips rocking in time with his pace. He pulls her closer, legs draped over his shoulders as he bobs his head, eyes flashing up to catch her blissed-out face before she tips back into the pillows. When a whine grows in her throat he switches to tight circles on her clit, alternating directions and interrupting with quick flicks to keep her keening and arching into his mouth. 

“Frankie, please,” she begs hoarsely. He was never good at edging, always wanting his partners to cum now and cum over and over again. So with his mouth sealed around her clit he sucks and works his tongue over her tight little bud as her hands scrabble for purchase on the bed, his tousled head, the sheet he hears creak in her fists. When her body feels as tight as a bowstring he releases the pressure just enough that when he flicks over her clit she’s helpless to stop it. Her orgasm rushes through, thighs clenching hard around his ears, hips bucking hard enough he has to pin them down, and breathy shouts shooting right to his throbbing cock. If he could cum from this he would. If he had a hand down his pants right now he definitely would. But instead he slows his strokes, enveloping her slick folds with his hot mouth as she weakly releases his head and flops back to the mattress.

“Holy shit, Frankie, that was…yeah, I’d fucking pay for that,’” she gasps, his chuckle dark and deep against her core.

“Nah, that’s standard good fucking. What you’ll pay for is that I’m going to do it again,” Frankie says, and he almost can’t recognize the confidence in his voice. It’s making his skin crackle with excitement as he strokes a finger through her sopping cunt, savoring her scent in his mustache.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, handsome,” Lily says, propping up on her elbows to look at him between her thighs. “Sometimes less is…way fucking more than most girls are used to.”

Frankie lets a lopsided grin dance onto his face, enjoying how her own expression falters.

“You don’t think I can do it?” he purrs, shallowly breaching her with his fingertip. “Haven’t even tried to get your g-spot yet. Give me a chance to make you cum on my face again, and I’ll fuck you in any position you like. Even the challenging ones.” Lily contemplates his offer, carding his curls back from his face. He likes the way she plays with his hair. He’ll have to encourage that.

“Even the positions where I fuck you, big boy? I’ve got loads of toys for that.” 

Frankie flushes deeply at that, face blazing hot as she laughs at his sudden turn.

“Teasing, only teasing. Though you shouldn’t knock it. I could make you see stars, baby.”

Frankie coughs and tries to get back into the moment, shaking his head.

“Maybe when I’m a little more experienced,” he acquiesces. It’s a little white lie. He wouldn’t be able to let someone make him that vulnerable for a handful of dollars. That’s something he’d only consider with someone he trusted deeply, and cared for just as much.

“Fair enough. Let’s see what you got,” she says, leaning back and propping some pillows behind her back. A wicked smile crawls onto Frankie’s face.

“I’ll give you my best, sweetheart.”

Frankie’s specialty is the second orgasm. The first is long, languid, learning. The second one has a pace all its own, both in the buildup and the payoff. He can’t go right back to torturing her overstimulated clit, or pumping his fingers into her, no matter how hard the idea makes him. Instead he drapes his arm over her waist, spreads one of his hands over her thigh, and lays heady kisses along her stomach. Her muscles twitch at the scratch of his beard, the teasing nips of his teeth, the self-conscious giggles he earns when he tongues a particularly sensitive spot. He lets his hands roam, kneading at her thighs, skimming his fingers up to splay across her chest. Their span is exciting to most, eyes widening when they see how far his thumb and pinky can reach. He basks in the relaxation of this moment, bringing her down from her height onto the pillowy comfort of his touch. 

“Frankie,” Lily murmurs, sliding her calf along his back. He slides up to kiss the inside of her knee, trailing his mouth down her thigh. “Frankie!” she giggles more urgently, wiggling her hips when he doesn’t speed up his movements.

“Impatient?” he hums into her skin, but he lets his fingertips dance closer to her core. “Thought you were going to let me try.”

“Didn’t realize you were going to take all afternoon for the second one,” she quips back. Mischief flashes in Frankie’s eyes, and he crawls up her body to ghost his lips over her earlobe.

“Are you turned on yet?” he whispers, testing a deeper bedroom voice. To his delight she writhes under him, fingernails lightly scraping up his back. He slides a hand down to cup her pussy, sliding one finger through her folds. “Mmm, yes you are,” he sighs, scraping his teeth behind her ear to elicit a shaky breath. Coating his finger in her slick, he slides inside as she takes in a shaky breath.

“Good?” he asks, holding still with his middle finger buried inside her slick heat.

“Yeah, fuck, Frankie, please,” she gasps, rocking her hips against his hand. A triumphant smile hides against her neck as he drags his finger out, then buries it back inside her. After a few careful strokes he finds a spot that arches her back, a quiet “fuck” escaping her lips.

“Oh yeah, there it is,” he coos, swirling the tip of his finger over it. Her nails bite into his shoulderblades, the pressure of his jeans against his cock almost unbearable but he’s so focused he pushes it to the side. “Can you take another one?” Lily nods quickly before he slicks his ring finger and slides both inside.

“Shit, Frankie, I don’t even really like fingering but this…” she says, pulling him down to settle more of his bulk on her. He draws one knee up to plant under her thigh, but lets his broad frame press her deeper into the mattress. His unoccupied hand slides under her neck, holding her while he dives in to kiss her deeply, sensually, in time with his methodical strokes. When her hips start moving in time he breaks the kiss, shuffling back down the bed.

“Gonna cum again?” he asks, only allowing a hint of smugness into his voice. Lily laughs breathlessly.

“Yeah, if you put your mouth on me I just might,” she teases.

“Yes ma’am,” Frankie says back before lapping fervently at her neglected clit. The warm passes of his tongue stiffen her back, thin moans growing into cries as he finds the pattern that drives all thought from her mind. Slick with sweat, her body roils under Frankie’s careful ministrations. When his knuckles pull too much at her sucking grip he spits on where they’re joined, licking where she’s stretched around him.

“Frankie, holy fuck, don’t…don’t stop…” she stammers, hands back in his hair as he rubs roughly against her g-spot and messily tongues her, audibly moaning to vibrate her clit and tighten her nipples. He wants to palm one pretty tit while he’s eating her out but she’s so close he can’t help himself. He clamps his hand down on his protesting cock as he swipes his tongue hard and fast, thrusting his fingers deep and devastating. Pride surges in his chest when her hips lock hard, bowing her off the bed as she wails. His hands fly to support her, holding her firmly against his mouth as he plunges his tongue into her spasming cunt and circles his nose on her clit. She thrashes against him but he holds steady, eyes burning up her body so when she finally opens her own she can see the raw need heating his face. His cock jumps again when her eyes roll back and another, softer pattern of pulses wrap around his tongue. 

Again, he thinks with wonder, she came again just looking at me.

When her body unlocks, trembling instead, he lowers her down to the bed, soothing his hands along her skin as he swallows down her second release. Her breaths are ragged, sending him to search for a glass of water for both their parched throats.

When he returns she’s positively wrecked, limbs weakly spread on the bed. Her head lifts and she blearily takes the water, letting Frankie hover at her side until she places the glass down on the bedside table. The silence stretches until she finally speaks.

“Holy fuck, Frankie, not only are women gonna pay for that, they’re gonna pay double,” she says, making Frankie’s shoulders shake with quiet laughter. “I’m serious, I don’t think I’ve ever had my pussy eaten that good. Who the hell taught you that?”

Frankie’s eyes go soft in memory.

“I had a girlfriend when I was a lot younger. It was both of our first times, and she’d never…she was all stressed out about cumming. Repressed upbringing, you know. I didn’t want to pressure her to do anything if she didn’t know what felt good. I’d been jacking it for a while before that, I knew what I liked, but she was so nervous. I told her we wouldn’t have sex until I made her cum first.” He strokes a hand absently on Lily’s forearm, her smile soft and kind. “Fingering was too intense, so I tried to eat her out. I was…ah, not good at it. And she wasn’t sure if it felt good, and was self-conscious about how long it took, if I liked it too. It stressed us both out for a while. I finally asked her if I could just try for as long as it takes.” 

“And how long was that?” Lily asked, turning on her side so Frankie’s wandering hand could stroke along her hip.

“About an hour. Took my time watching her body, seeing what she liked. Combining things, doing some things longer, more intensely. When she came I almost fucking passed out, I got so turned. And then, when she calmed down a little bit…I did it again. And again.”

“And now you’re a fucking god at it,” Lily concludes, wiggling her hips when Frankie takes a careful handful.

“I like doing it. Like the taste, how you smell, how responsive you are. It’s intimate, special. If someone puts their mouth, they want you to feel good. I like the intensity of that.” 

“Well I’ll definitely put that in your recommendation. But we should also take care of the final bit of business before we call our session complete.” Frankie’s eyebrows shoot up when Lily’s hand grazes his thigh, palming his neglected erection. “Hiding something big in here, are we Frankie?”

The confidence radiating off of Frankie dissipates a fraction, the earlier apprehension creeping back on his face.

“I- I know it can be a lot. I’ll go slow, we can take our time,” he stammers, backing off a bit to give Lily room. She smirks at him, sitting up and swinging her leg over Frankie’s lap to cage him in.

“Well, we’ll have to work on your delivery there. You say it like it’s a death sentence,” she giggles, and the tension eases enough for Frankie’s shoulders to lower. Her fingers glide along Frankie’s skin, skimming across his plush chest. “Say it like it’s the sexiest thing,” she challenges, leaning back to see what Frankie does. He ponders for a moment, then unbuttons and unzips his jeans to hang loosely around his hips. The dark boxers he’s got on underneath stretch across the soft V of his hips. 

When Frankie looks back up at her, his eyes are dark as sin with a smile to match. Crawling up her body, he gently takes her wrist and guides her inside his pants. Urging her fingers to  wrap around his girthy cock, he whispers in her ear.

“I know it can be a lot,” he purrs, apprehension swapped for smooth confidence. “I’ll go slow. Take my time.” With each new suggestion he rolls his hips into her grip, hot breath ghosting down her cheek. 

“That’s more like it,” she replies, an appreciative hum rumbling out of Frankie’s chest. Covering her with his body, he slides his jeans the rest of the way off, fitted boxer briefs generously tented. 

“Condoms?” he asks, her hand stretching out to tap at the bedside table. He shuffles in the drawer before pulling one out along with a bottle of lube.

“Probably a good idea to bring one of these with me?” he asks, half to himself. Lily plucks it from his hand and places it back on the nightstand.

“I’m plenty wet enough for you, big boy. But yes, always condoms and lube wouldn’t hurt. Better to be prepared,” she says, spreading her thighs to invite Frankie in. Rolling on the condom, he returns to the cradle of her hips, fisting his aching cock to tap against her clit. She arches, a delightful smile painting her face.

“Can’t wait to feel you stretch me,” she whispers.

“Fuck,” he gasps back, dragging the underside of his cock through her folds. “Shit, you feel good. How…how do you want me?”

“Any way you want, baby,” she purrs back, the plump head of his cock pressing at her entrance. 

Frankie enters her slowly, inch by blissful inch. Some of it is care; he’s watched the pinched expressions of women not used to taking a cock as thick and hefty as his, and he’s highly attuned to discomfort. If he catches it he drags back out, slow as syrup before pushing forward again into her blinding heat. Lily takes him so well he has to slow himself down, his mounting arousal pulling him too close to the edge. She’s moaning softly below him, fingers digging into his hips as he presses flush against her.

“Fuck, Frankie, you’re filling me up so good,” Lily moans, lifting her hips to grind on his buried cock. 

“You feel amazing. Fuck, yes, so goddamn good. I want to fuck you like this first, then make you cum on me again. Shiiiiit.” Frankie’s groans are positively filthy as he takes his first slick stroke into her cunt, the flutters of her walls around him pooling liquid metal in the base of his spine. Firming up his stance, he rolls his hips into hers, long languid strokes that speak to his stamina and patience. If her moans were filthy before, they’re downright crude now.

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuckFrankieeeee,” she whines, hands scrabbling along his shoulders and hair as he mouths at her pebbled nipples and palms her overheated flesh. When he’s wet with her slick, sweat sliding down his smooth skin, he slips two fingers between them to circle her clit, fast slippery circles making her quake around him.

“Oh please keep doing that, Frankie, fuck…” she whines, and Frankie’s teeth find the sensitive spot under her ear that makes her hair stand on end.

“Gonna fuck you so good you’ll be gushing around my cock, then I’m gonna pound you from behind until you strangle me again. Gonna be so deep inside you you won’t be able to think about anything else but cumming. C’mon, gorgeous, cum on my fat cock.” Frankie can barely register where the words spilling from his gasping lips are coming from, but they certainly land like sizzling oil on her skin. Eyes screwed shut, lips parted in a silent cry, her rhythm gets messier as Frankie brushes his cock over and over her g-spot, deadly accuracy in every thrust. With a few more targeted circles over her clit she bursts, legs clamped viciously around his waist as he grinds into her spasming cunt. The pressure rockets his orgasm close to the surface, his balls tightening up as wetness coats them further, but he thinks about baseball and those smoking commercials he hates and the crest ebbs back to a manageable pace. 

Once her legs unlock Frankie kisses her again, firm and exacting while she’s still on cloud nine. Humming into his mouth she strokes his scruffy cheeks, the sensation tingling up his spine. 

“Want you to cum, Frankie,” Lily whispers against his mouth, and the desire roars up inside his chest. With efficient strength he flips her, lifting her hips to meet his own, and slides back into her sopping cunt. “Oh fuck, Frankie, you feel ever bigger like this,” she chokes out, back arching as he takes one experimental thrust into her. She keens under his large hands, shuddering at the press of his mouth on her spine when he folds over to kiss her again.

“Gonna fuck you good and hard now, pretty girl. You’re gonna make me bust with this sweet fucking pussy,” he pants, admiring her round ass and sweet little hole. He presses his thumb lightly against it, earning a garbled sound of pleasure. 

“Please, Frankie,” she moans, and he could never deny her the pleasure he’s brimming to give. 

The first snap of his hips drive her face-down into the mattress, and the subsequent pounding buries her fingers in the sheets. Every snap of his hips to her thighs, his balls slapping against her clit, drives him even more wild, babbling to her about how fucking good her pussy is, how he’s gonna maker her cum on his big cock over and over again. She throatily agrees, backing up against his thrusts to drive him deeper, harder into the spot that will make her cum again. Frankie’s lips peel back from his teeth, throwing back his head to growl and gasp as he rails her into the bed, his orgasm just moments from toppling him over into his denied bliss.

“Cum with me, baby,” he orders, wrapping his arm around her waist to palm her dripping cunt. The heel of his hand combined with the smack of his hips rocks her clit over his palm, and that stimulation throws her off into the deep end of her fourth orgasm. This time her cunt is too tight, too fucking good to stop him from cumming, shouts devolving into ragged whimpers and sweet reassurances as they both come down from their highs.

Frankie eases Lily to the bed, stroking her sweaty hair out of her face and placing a chaste kiss on her temple. He disposes of the condom in the bathroom, taking a moment to check himself in the mirror. He’s flushed and rumpled, his hair an absolute mess, but damn if he’s not glowing as well. He runs the tap and slicks damp fingers through his hair, returning just in time to catch Lily downing the rest of her water.

“Frankie, baby, you are going to have a great career if you can pull that routine even once a week.” His scoff brings her hands up to scold. “I’m serious! You like making people feel good. I can definitely see this working out for you.” 

Frankie’s blush radiates from his cheeks to his chest, coming to sit beside Lily on the bed.

“I’m glad you had a good time,” he says. His fingers come to rest on her forearm. “What should I do for aftercare? I normally get some water, cuddle, help clean them up. Should I be doing something different?”

Lily gives him an approving smile.

“It’ll probably be a bit shorter than what you’re used to, but yes to all. Some girls may not want it, others may want more. So keep your eye on the clock and give them as much as you can. Believe me, they’ll get more out of that than the sex itself.”

Frankie nods, deep brown eyes coming to hers again.

“Which one are you? Aftercare or no?”

Lily leans back, settling into the pillows again.

“I could take a little cuddle before you go.”

Frankie ducks his head to hide his shy smile, tucking her into his side so he can stroke soothing paths up her side, weaving his hands into her hair and kneading at the back of her neck. 

“I had fun,” Frankie finally says, staring at the ceiling and chewing the inside of his cheek. “I wasn’t sure what I was walking into, but it was a lot of fun.” 

“It should be if you’re doing it right,” Lily quips, running her hand over his chest and twirling her fingers into his loose curls splayed against the pillow. 

“I can last longer than that, you know,” he murmurs, nosing into her hair when she lets out a breathy giggle.

“You lasted plenty long enough, big boy.”

“Well, I have my ways just in case,” he says mysteriously. Lily’s hand slows on his chest, her body hovering on a question, but it passes. Instead she lifts up to press a sweet kiss to Frankie’s lips.

“Now I’ll show you how to leave graciously.”

“So how did he do?”

Lily lounges on her couch, phone to her ear as Pope’s voice filters through.

“I gotta hand it to you, Santi, you only fraternize with men who are very competent at fucking.”

“Ha ha, Lils, but really? Frankie’s cut out for it?”

Lily pauses, the itch under her fingernails growing louder.

“Definitely has the right temperament, the right attitude. His confidence could use a little work, but he got into the swing of things. Eats pussy like a fucking god, and knows how to use that big cock of his…”

“Jesus Lil, a yes or know would have sufficed.”

Lily laughs into the phone. Riling up Santi is a rare treat.

“He’s a boyfriend experience guy, so I’d steer him to clients looking for that. He’ll make them feel like they’re his whole world for the hour. And he’ll make bank doing it.”

“Any concerns?”

Lily’s hands flex briefly.

“Has he ever had an issue with substances?”

The silence on the other end answers her question, but she still waits for Santi.

“Not in a while. So he’s told me.”

“What was it?”

Another pause, then a sigh.

“Coke.”

The word sinks deep into her stomach.

“You know I don’t fuck with that shit, Santi. Not after Colombia.”

“He’s not using.”

“Maybe not, or maybe not a lot. But if he’s got a proclivity to it…keep an eye on him, Santi.”

“I will. Thanks Lils.”

She lets her breath out, lightening the conversation.

“You gonna call him Catfish?”

“He told you that?”

“Could be a good play on words.”

“Ugh.”

“Swimming in pussy?”

“That’s awful.”

“Doesn’t need to breathe. Certainly didn’t feel like it after the second one.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Bye Santi, te amo.”

Santi chuckles at the saccharine endearment as he hangs up. With approval from Lily he’ll start giving Frankie work. Her warning echoes in his ears, his own apprehensions mixing with it. They all had their demons to face, but Frankie chose a path that worried his friends. Santi would have to keep an eye on him, keep Frankie safe and watch out for his clientele. But he trusted his friend, and wanted him not to worry so much when his rent came due.

“Seems like Catfish is on the menu,” he murmurs to himself, snorting at the unfortunate innuendo. He’d have to share it with Frankie next time he sees him.

END

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[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Carry You Home

Part 8 of Sometimes All You Need (A Getaway Car)

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Description: The holidays in San Diego are drier and hotter than you're used to. But with Jake, Callie, Neil and all of your friends there, they should be fun, right? Wrong. At the request of Mama Georgie you and Jake pack up to head to Texas for Christmas. But what you find there is something you'd never expect to find, in more ways than one. Disclaimers: Arguments, Alcohol, Homophobic Language Warning: Female Reader Word Count: 6282 Author Note: Here’s part 8 of Sometimes All You Need (A Getaway Car). Here's the drama! GG and Jake head to Texas and it's... not great? Jake and his siblings are all amazing, but there is another member of the family I introduce you all to who is anything but. I hope you all like it! AO3: Cross-posted Here! My Masterlist Previous Part | Series Masterlist | Next Part

The holiday season in San Diego is always a little - interesting. You only get white snow drenched Christmases in the movies in California. But you honestly wouldn’t trade your California Christmases for anything in the world. That’s due, in part, to the family you’ve found yourself a part of. Jake and Javy are always around, filling your house with light and laughter, their bond stronger than blood. Callie and Neil are always around too, your family blending perfectly with Jake’s like they’ve always belonged together. With Callie, comes Tasha, who Callie confided to you, might be the one. With Tasha comes Bob. And once you’ve got Bob coming, it was only natural to invite the other Daggers. Soon enough, your house is the place to be for any elite aviator posted at North Island.

That’s no less true as you clean up in the kitchen after the first Thanksgiving you’ve ever hosted. The football game is blaring out from your living room and you can hear the boys’ exaggerated boos and smack talk emanating through the house. You’re loading the last of the dinner plates into the dishwasher when your phone rings as Jake makes his way into the kitchen.

You’re giggling into the phone when you pick it up. How can you be anything but happy with a 6-foot-tall man, your 6-foot-tall man, draped across your back?

“Mama Georgie! Hi! Happy Thanksgiving!” You’re smiling from ear to ear as Jake kisses the side of your head. You grin as Jake’s mom tells you all about the Seresin family Thanksgiving spread.

“Thanks for sending me your pie recipes, Mama Georgie! They went over a treat here. Twelve aviators and they ate every crumb. I made four pies!” You can’t even object when Jake snatches the phone from you to steal his mama for himself a little. 

“Hey, mama! I’m missing all of y’all today. It’s not Thanksgiving if I’m not home. But thankfully my gorgeous girl was here and gave me a slice of home so I don’t miss you too badly.” Heat rushes through your system, settling hot in your chest like it always does when Jake calls you his. 

It’s as you pull out the apple cider from the fridge, for the spiked apple cider you're serving after the game, that you hear Jake’s tone change.

“Sir.” That one word is enough to capture your interest. Who in his family would Jake call sir? Not his brothers. His dad or his grandfather then.

“Yessir. I was planning on coming home for Christmas, sir.” When you turn around, all of the joy has drained right out of Jake’s face. His green eyes look almost angry as you leave the cider ingredients on the counter and walk right to his side. To his credit, he tries to stay light-hearted for you, mouthing "my dad" and rolling his eyes, but after nearly a year and a half together, you're sure you can read Jake a bit better than that. 

Jake's worried, worried and tense about something. You know he's more than his Hangman persona, and you're sure you can read every sign of Jake putting that mask on from the first indicator. But right now? It's not Hangman schooling his emotions, and it's not your goofy golden retriever of a boyfriend. This is somebody else. 

"I've got two weeks of leave, sir, and I am planning on flying in on the 22nd or 23rd and leaving shortly after the New Year." Your hands glide easily over the slick soft material of the eye-blindingly bright orange jersey covering Jake's torso as you wrap your arms around his waist.

"Am I bringing my girl home?" You can feel every muscle under your fingertips tense. "I have to double check that she doesn't have plans already, sir."

You can hear a voice that sounds so much like Jake's spilling out of the phone. It sounds similar, yes, but there is a harshness to this voice you’ve never heard in Jake’s. The underlying aura of casual cruelty this voice emanates has chills running down your spine. From how tense Jake is as he wraps an arm around you, like he's reaching for a buoy to keep him afloat in rough waters, you know you're right to worry.

You don't know when Jake hangs up the call, because the next thing you know are his arms curled tight around you. Your cheek is pressed tightly to his chest and you can hear the steady whoosh of his breathing.

"You back with me, gorgeous?" You nuzzle in closer, all of a sudden so relaxed that you could fall asleep just like this.

“Yeah, Jay.” You slide your hands under Jake’s jersey, tracing the strong muscles of his back as he rocks the two of you back and forth.

“So you heard that, yeah?” You nod as you finally pull away, pulling out a pot from the cupboard to start on the cider.

“Was that your dad?” You’re cutting up apples as Jake muscles up to the counter next to you.

“Yeah. D’you need any spices for the cider?” He’s already poured out the gallons of cider into the pot and set it to simmer.

“What did he want? For the cider I’ll need a stick of cinnamon, a couple of cloves, a half-inch piece of ginger and a bit of citrus peel all in one of those spice sachets. I’ve got the orange peel on the cutting board for you, Jay.” You can’t hide your smile as Jake drops a kiss to your lips before nabbing the peel to add the to sachet that he’s already got mostly assembled.

“He wants you to come home with me for Christmas.” You can’t read Jake’s tone as he says those words. “Put the sachet into the pot?”

“Yeah, the sachet goes right into the pot.” You carefully lower the apple slices into the pot and put the lid on it before turning around. Jake’s got his arms crossed against the counter, looking right at you. “Do you want me to come home with you for Christmas?”

“Of course I do, baby doll.” But you know there’s something Jake’s hiding from you. You can see words at the tip of his tongue as he tries to think of a spin to what his first initial thought is. 

“Then what’s going on? Is it your family?” You must be frowning because Jake’s hands rise up to squish your cheeks even as he brings your forehead to meet his. Your lips brush lightly across his as you continue to speak, even as your voice is muffled by the tight grip he has on your cheeks. “I mean, I met Mama Georgie and Will when you were in the hospital and they loved me. At least I think they did? I wasn’t at my best though so who even knows if they saw anything other than a mess? I hope they loved me, Jay!”

Jake’s chuckling as he looks into your eyes, so amused by your obvious distress. You’re still blathering on about your intense need to make sure Jake’s family liked you when you get cut off by his lips covering yours. Your eyes flutter closed on instinct as your arms rise to wrap around Jake’s neck. His tongue slips easily between your parted lips even as his hands slide under your blouse to meet the bare skin at the waistband of your jeans. Jake kisses all of the thoughts out of your head for several moments before a set of sharp wolf-whistles breaks you apart. You’re blushing a little, your face hot, as you bury yourself into Jake’s chest just a little before walking to the stove to check on the cider. Unsurprisingly, it’s Callie, Tasha, and Javy standing right there, looking at you and Jake with amused eyes.

“I thought we were getting cider. Then we walk in here and you’re all loved up, sucking face with your boy toy?” It’s Callie, taking advantage of one of the few times she can tease you, of course. But that’s your one advantage, having a best friend who confides in you about everything and whose spare keys you have.

You flip her off before grinning, “At least you haven’t walked in on us fucking on the sofa, Cal! Of course, I can’t say the same thing about you.”

Your remark takes the heat off of you and Jake and you’re more than pleased when all three of your friends walk out of the kitchen bickering with each other. By the resulting roar coming out of your living room, it’s a topic of conversation that all of the other aviators latch on to quite easily. More importantly, it leaves you and Jake alone in the kitchen again.

“As I was saying, before we were so rudely interrupted earlier,” Jake cages you up against the kitchen counter, capturing your lips in another kiss. “They loved you, gorgeous. Mama loves you in a way she’s never loved any of my other girlfriends. She keeps asking me how you are, how you’re doing. It’s why she has your phone number in the first place. I promise they adore you.” He’s peppering kisses across your face between words.

“Then what is it, Jake?” You can’t hide how worried you feel. It’s coloring your tone even as you trace the longhorn emblazoned across his chest with your eyes.

“It’s not you, sweetheart. It’s not my mom or siblings either. It’s my dad.” Those last words are practically whispered into your hair. “I've told you a little bit about him. You know what he's like. I really hoped I wouldn't have to ever introduce him to you. He's going to say a lot of shit, baby. I know he will. But if you truly want to come to Texas for me, I'll make sure he doesn't take his anger at me out on you."

"Why would he be angry at you, Jake?" You really don't understand why anybody would be mad at him.

"Because I've never been the son he wanted. The son he deserves. I was supposed to go to law school and then come back to be legal attache to the ranch and his legal council while he ran for office. I ruined all of that by joining the Navy." 

It’s a thought you ruminate on for the rest of the night, while you’re cleaning up and getting ready for bed. Jake drives them straight out of your head soon afterwards, drugging you with the heat of his skin and press of his mouth.

You don’t remember Jake’s words again until you’re waiting for your bags at baggage claim in the Austin airport a couple of days before Christmas. Most people are excited to go home for the holidays right? Jake’s got a grimace on his face, one more akin to a man facing the gallows than a man going home to his beloved family. Coupled with the incredibly apparent storm clouds around him, and you’re already bracing yourself for a wholly uncomfortable Christmas. It’s a foul miasma which surrounds you from the moment you get into the taxi and all the way through the drive.

Jake’s smiling, showing you all of the sights, coupled with anecdotes about his childhood. It’s nice, of course, seeing where Jake grew up, but there is something not quite right about his artificial good mood. All of the houses are covered in colorful lights and the atmosphere looks straight out of a storybook - if you switch out Texas scrub for snow, of course.

Seresin Ranch is just as festively decorated as every other property you've seen so far. At about an hour's drive from the airport, you'd half expected a little place in the middle of nowhere. You couldn't have been more wrong. There is an entire village's worth of houses on the many acres of land on the ranch, each covered in string lights. Ranch hands scurry to and fro, working cattle, training horses, and carting bales of hay to the big red barns you can see in the distance. You look out on the whole affair with fascination, the city-girl in you in awe at the foreign sights.

It's mid-afternoon as your cab pulls up the winding main road up to the biggest house you've ever seen. Jake's always carried this worldly, cultured air about him, and looking at his childhood home, you can see why. The main ranch house is up on a hill, overlooking the acres of land it's built on. The air smells crisp and clean as you step out of the taxi with the assistance of the butler. You also inexplicably feel out of place - like a little kid playing dress-up with their mother's heels and makeup or a wolf in sheep's clothing. Your simple, yet good quality jacket, cable-knit sweater, jeans and boots feel drab in comparison to the opulence you're sure you'll see on the inside. 

No wonder the butler looks down his hooked nose at you. You look like a peasant entering the royal palace through the front gate on the arm of the prince. It clicks all of a sudden for you - why Jake's always so put-together, always so perfect. It has to be the effects of growing up in this place. The polished marble floor shows your entire reflection as you step carefully through the open front door into the foyer. Each of your footsteps echoes, ricocheting through the cavernous space as you hand your jacket to the butler and clutch your purse closer to your side.

"Here, gorgeous." Jake's voice eases some of the tension you feel, especially as his arm wraps around your shoulder and his lips press against your temple as he hands you your gift for his parents. It's nothing special - a couple of bottles of wine, one of the best varieties you could get, in a basket along with toys for the dogs, chocolates, and a throw blanket. Jake had approved of the basket and your idea for its contents when you'd suggested it, but standing in the foyer of his home, you're about ninety-nine percent sure it's cheap, far cheaper than his parents deserve.

Before you can ponder hiding it, Mama Georgie's already walking regally down the front stairs, her dimples twinkling in the sunlight as she walks faster than you ever could in her heels to greet her son. There is true affection and love in every interaction Mama Georgie has with Jake. You'd seen it in the hospital when Jake had been injured and you see it now. Side by side, the observation you'd made about mother and son while Jake was in the hospital is even more true - Jake is just like his mother, especially when they smile standing there side by side looking at you.

“Hi Darling! How are you? How was your trip? It wasn’t too bad was it? Y’all are just in time for dinner! I made your favorite, Jakey - my chili!” If there’s one person other than Jake who you’ve met that can put you at ease, it’s his mom. Mama Georgie sweeps you up into her arms for the firmest, most motherly, hug you’ve felt in a long time before dragging you after her into the kitchen, babbling a mile a minute. As sterile as the main foyer has been, the colossal chef-grade kitchen is anything but. The entire room is suffused with the warm smells of spices. There are two tow-headed toddlers standing at the counter gleefully mashing cookie dough between their fingers and three big dogs waiting for scraps. Arrayed around the room are what must be the remainder of Jake’s siblings and their spouses. Laughter is an undercurrent to the warm atmosphere.

“Can I get y’all anything to drink? Anything to eat? Jakey I know you haven’t been eating properly. Look at you, you’re so thin!” You smile unabashedly at the rising chorus of coo-ing noises as all four of Jake’s siblings join in on making their brother blush. Jake takes one look at your laughing face and wraps you in a bear hug, kissing you until your face is hot and your giggles are gone.

When he pulls away, he murmurs, “So you’ll pick my brothers and sisters before me, huh?” You know he’s not angry though, not when he’s smirking at you.

“They’re a funny bunch, Jay! What am I supposed to do?” You’re grinning fondly as Jake rolls his eyes.

To the room at large, he introduces you before abandoning you to his sisters and going to beg his mom for a snack she’s already assembling in bowls. If only the Daggers were here to hear how whiny the cool and collected Hangman can get. It makes you smile even wider as you chat with Jake’s sisters and sisters-in-law. From what Jake’s told you, he has two younger sisters, Eliza and Maggie, though as Eliza corrects you, she’s younger by only ten minutes, as his twin. His sisters-in-law are Hannah and Melissa. Of all of his siblings you’ve met, you know Hannah, Will’s wife, the best, as she’d come up to San Diego when Jake was injured with her husband. In age order, then, you have Henry, Will, Jake, Eliza, and Maggie. Hannah, a statuesque blonde, in addition to being Will’s wife, is mother to the twin terrors currently mashing cookie dough into each others’ mouths and Mama Georgie’s pristine kitchen counters, James and Jordan. Melissa is a mischievous looking red-head with green eyes that puts Jake’s to shame. Standing next to her 6 foot tall husband she’s curvy and diminutive. Her only child, a four month old baby girl named Sarah is the chubbiest, cutest baby you’ve ever met. Rounding out the family in the kitchen is Eliza’s fiancée, Beth.

You’ve got Sarah in your lap, the little girl playing with and gumming up your clean fingers when the entire kitchen seems to go silent. You feel a bit like a deer in headlights when a pair of green eyes seems to impale you from the tall, imposing person standing near Mama Georgie. You can’t even use Sarah as a buffer because Melissa whisks the baby away. So you’re left inexplicably empty-handed as you step forward to stand next to Jake in front of his dad.

“So, son. This is your girlfriend?” Your initial impressions of Jake’s dad just from hearing him through the phone were spot on. 

“Yessir.” Jake introduces you to his dad, and his dad to you. Henry Seresin Sr is Jake’s older, more grizzled doppelganger, but one who has had every drop of joy wrung from his soul. His emerald eyes feel cold, like he’s trying to read your soul and maybe rob it from your body. 

“Pleased to meet you.” You feel very much like you failed the most important test of your life. He doesn’t sound pleased to meet you at all. You’re more inclined to think he believes you to be akin to a bug squished on the bottom of his shoe. Just as soon as those intimidating green eyes have you in their crosshairs, they move on, transfixing Jake in their gaze.

“So this is what you’re getting up to? Chasing some piece of tail rather than keeping your head in the game? Your mom told me you got injured. Was it because your head was on her instead of on your mission?” Your hackles raise even higher at his words, if that is even possible. 

You’re getting angry. Like this man even has an idea of what Jake’s been through. Hearing and knowing, understanding are two different things. But no matter how you swallow or how many words line up on your tongue, your mouth doesn’t work.

Jake just grasps your hand a bit tighter as he stares his father down. The mask you’d seen on his face after Thanksgiving Dinner when his dad had demanded Jake bring you home is back. Coupled with his ramrod straight back and the set to his jaw, you’d think Jake was facing down a particularly odious commanding officer, not his father. Before the tension can escalate any further though, Mama Georgie starts handing out bowls of food. With her Texas Chili in their hands, father and son seem to simmer down.

Before long, the twins have their little faces smeared in sour cream and rich meaty chili streaked across their chins, and that’s the first time you see Jake’s dad smile. He looks at James and Jordan with such naked affection in your eyes that you can understand how a woman as warm and kind as Mama Georgie could fall in love with a man like Henry Seresin. Jake is, rather unsurprisingly, taciturn throughout the meal where he had been goofing around with his brothers less than an hour prior. Jake’s dad doesn’t act like you’re even at the table, seemingly content to ignore you and his youngest son. He converses with Will, Henry, Hannah, Melissa, and his wife in turn, pausing to listen to the twins’ babbling too. Maggie gets her own share of her dad’s attention too. It seems to be only Beth, Eliza, Jake and you who get unilaterally ignored.

From what you can see, it seems to suit Eliza and Beth just fine, but it’s Jake that most of your attention is on. You know how much he craves his dad’s attention, whether he admits it or not, so this has to cut deep. Would things be different if you weren’t here? A part of you isn’t sure if it would be. Jake would be facing his dad’s unnecessary disapproval alone. At least he won’t open his mouth and say the truly cutting things he wants to if there is a stranger in the house? You can hope, anyhow.

The tension dissipates some as in the cover of night, everyone separates and gets loaded into the many pickup trucks waiting in the driveway to undertake what you’re told very excitedly by Mama Georgie, is a Seresin family Christmas tradition. It’s not cold exactly, but you still climb into the bed of the pickup truck Will’s driving easily, accepting the blanket Jake draws over your lap and the thermos Mama Georgie hands you. Jake, of course, settles in next to you, and you have no qualms about cuddling into his arms. 

As the cars start moving, Jake tells you how each year the Seresins drive into Austin to view all of the Christmas light displays on December 23rd with hot chocolate in hand. On Christmas Eve, the tree gets finished. When you ask him what that means, he grins and tells you how the tree’s final ornaments are the popcorn garlands the kids make and some tinsel. Each member of the family gets a singular present to open on Christmas Eve. Come Christmas morning, over breakfast, the gifts are opened and everyone meets up again for family dinner out in one of the big barns. That’s when you’ll meet his aunts, uncles, and cousins.

All of a sudden it seems like you’re going to be inundated with a lot of Seresins in not a lot of time. But that’s not what’s bothering you. You curl your hand around Jake’s cheek, gently pulling his lips to yours in a sweet kiss.

“What was that about, Jay?” Your voice is a whisper just loud enough to be heard in the scant inches of space between the two of you.

“Dad? At dinner?” Jake’s eyes glint golden in the dim starlight illuminating the way. Will’s truck is last in line and you and Jake are alone in the bed. “That is his way of punishing his kids. He hates that I joined the Navy instead of doing what he wanted.” 

You have a sick, foreboding feeling in your stomach as you ask your next question. “Then why is he ignoring Eliza and Beth?”

Jake’s chuckle is equally mirthless. “He hates that Eliza is gay. Dad is just old-fashioned enough to hate it at home. But outwardly he pretends to be all tolerant and shit so none of his soon-to-be constituents take offense. It’s horribly two-faced. Eliza and Dad had a bunch of fights the first time Eliza brought Beth home. For Mama’s sake he tolerates Beth. The only way he knows how to do that is to ignore them.”

You wrap your arms even tighter around Jake, your mind ticking along at a mile a minute. You understand Henry Seresin even less now.

As advertised, the lighting displays are gorgeous and Christmas Eve passes in as much idyllic calm as it can with three children and 12 adults occupying the same house. Things start racing off the rails during the annual Christmas Eve present unwrapping. Thankfully you’d thought ahead and purchased presents for every member of Jake’s family, and it seems like there is a pile of presents under the tree for you as well. The adults are sipping on boozy homemade eggnog as James and Jordan hand out the gifts with Will’s help. 

One by one, each person opens their Christmas Eve pre-Santa gift. Jake had picked out your gift to open and he’d graced you with his special soft smile at the sight of his grandfather’s watch restored and ticking in perfect order. Finally, the only person who hasn’t opened a gift is you. In all honesty, you’re not upset at all, holding James in your lap as the little boy had taken a shine to you. Between one second and the next all of the noise dies down. Even James’ babble silences and when you look up, it’s to the sight of Jake, in his goofy Christmas-themed pajamas, on one knee in front of you.

“J-Jay? What are you doing?” You can’t believe your eyes.

“I know we usually open a gift on Christmas Eve, but what I’m asking you might just be the best gift I’ve ever received in my life. My gorgeous girl, you’ve stuck with me through thick and thin. Since the day we met, you’ve had me wrapped around your fingers. I love you so much. Would you do me the honor of making me the happiest man in the world and marry me?” 

Tears drip down your face as you nod and Jake pushes the band onto your ring finger. He kisses you, soft and sweet, keeping it light, standing there in the living room of his happiest place on earth. What startles the two of you apart is the banging of a door down the hall. When you pull away, the only person missing is his dad. Guess he doesn’t approve then. But you can’t dwell on Jake’s dad. Not when you have a fiancé, a fiancé, to hug and kiss, again, and a room full of his loved ones welcoming you into the family. You go to bed that night a little tipsy and with your heart so full of love for Jake and for his family.

The atmosphere when you wake up on Christmas morning is a little bit different. The living room is awash with the twins’ laughter as they demolish the gift wrapping into shards of brightly colored confetti. All of the adults are sleepily smiling at the boys as they carry gifts to each adult in turn. All of the adults, that is, other than Jake’s dad. The oldest male in the room is glaring gloomily, mustering a smile only when James or Jordan toddles towards their grandfather. For the most part, despite the glares, you enjoy yourself. 

It’s when the family gathers for Christmas dinner before the party in the barn that the apple cart topples over in earnest. You bow your head for grace dutifully, though you’re not religious in the slightest. It’s as dishes are being passed back and forth down the long wooden table groaning under the weight of all of the food on it that Jake’s dad opens his mouth again.

“Jacob.” The entire table seems to hush at his words, all conversation snuffed out. That one word has you lying your utensils down, swallowing, taking a sip of water and patting your lips with your napkin. Jake’s tense at your side as he does the same thing.

“Yes, sir?” Jake’s conciliatory, keeping his eyes trained on his plate.

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you, boy.” Jake’s hands drop to his sides as he stares at his father on command. You place your hand in his, taking comfort in the way his big thumbs run lightly over the emerald embedded in the shining silver now on your left hand.

“Are you thinking this through? I’m sure she’s nice enough, but what makes you think she’s appropriate for a man in your social standing?” Your eyes widen, and you see anger on Mama Georgie’s face for the first time since you met her.

“Appropriate for a man of my social standing?” From that tone alone, you’re bracing for a fight. “I wasn’t aware I had a social standing, Pops.” 

You can picture the way Jake’s lips pop as he says those words. But you can’t look away from Jake’s dad. Not now that you know that Jake has picked a fight. A fight he’s determined to win. 

“Ridiculous. I thought the Navy was supposed to teach discipline, not show my son how to whore around. Is she knocked up? Is that why you brought that cheap little slut into my house and introduced her to your brothers and sisters? To your niece and nephews?” You can’t even begin to get angry, not when you can sense the entire force of Jake’s anger emanating in waves from his body. His hand is gentle as he holds yours despite his rage.

“What did you say about her?” It’s a hissed out sentence. You don’t know when, but Hannah and the twins are no longer at the table. Neither is baby Sarah. It’s good that the kids are out of the blast radius of this particular fight.

“You heard me, son.” You’ve never heard more condescending words in your entire life.

“I did hear you, Dad.” Jake inhales deep, the sound whooshing out like bellows filled with hot air. 

“I wanted to make sure that I heard the right thing. Let’s get one thing clear. I found the love of my life in San Diego. She’s not a whore, she’s not knocked up, though that’ll happen as soon as she lets me put a baby in her. She’s not cheap. My gorgeous girl is the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. You’re not in the Navy so you have no idea what it does to a relationship to be apart from someone for months, maybe years at a time when you love them. It takes a special person to withstand the deployments, the stress, the injuries, all of it. I found that person and I asked her to marry me. I brought her home because I wanted her to have a support net, people she could rely on when I’m deployed so she’s not alone in a house like a mausoleum all by herself.”

“I’m in my right mind, old man. I know exactly what I’m doing. I’ve been thinking about marrying her since the night I met her. There isn’t another woman in the world for me.” When Jake kisses the ring on your finger, you have to hide your smile.

That’s not the only time, either. Jake’s dad is flushed with his anger, his eyes bulging out of his head at the sight of you still sitting by his son.

“Georgia.” His voice is full of rage as he spits out his wife’s name.

“Where did we go wrong? These two,” he growls, gesturing at Jake and Eliza in turn. “Why do they always have to be such fucking embarrassments? You let Jake spend too much time with your dad so the little idiot joined the Navy and brought back a woman who probably couldn’t sit through a fancy dinner without embarrassing the family. And then there’s Eliza.” 

At her name, Eliza tenses in entirety, her big green eyes wide as they stare between her father and her brother. 

“Our daughter couldn’t even turn out right, huh? If I had my way she would’ve been married to the youngest Johnson boy. He’s perfectly respectable. But no. We let her go to college in New York and she came back with a girlfriend. Disgraces, both of them.” 

Jake’s just about to open his mouth in defense of his clearly distraught sister when a chair squeals against the hardwood floor as it is pushed violently away from the table. It’s Henry, glaring at his father.

“Jake, Will, Eliza, Maggie, Mel. We’re leaving. Now.” It doesn’t surprise you at all that all the siblings fall in line. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” It’s another painfully tense moment between father and son. 

“I’m going to celebrate Christmas with my siblings. My siblings who I love because of who they are, not the political power they’ll bring me.”

He turns to Mama Georgie sitting in shock at the other end of the long, long dinner table. “I’m sorry, Mama. I can’t sit here and hear my siblings and their fiancée’s get insulted like this, not anymore. It’s something I should’ve done months ago, when Eliza first brought Bethie home.” 

“Will you at least take some of the food with you?” You’re not sure how Mama Georgie’s keeping her composure even as her eyes are glassy with unshed tears.

���Yeah, Mama. Eliza, can you help Mama pack up enough food for all of us?” You’re not surprised in the slightest to see all of the Seresin siblings jump into action.

“Jake and Beth. Can you grab your bags? The four of you will stay with Will and Hannah or Mel and I. We can figure out who’s staying where in a bit.” Jake nods, standing up before walking to his eldest brother and hugging him.

You follow him up the stairs to the guest bedroom and sit on the bed, packing the few things you’d left out into your suitcase again. Jake’s silent as he walks to and fro, packing his things. You stop him as he grabs a sweater from the foot of the bed, pulling him in between your legs. You know what his dad said made him feel terrible when he can’t even meet your eyes.

“Jay?” You tug on his hands gently. “Can you look at me?”

When his eyes finally meet yours, you’re shocked to see the normally clear, sage pools bloodshot and worried. His brow is furrowed and you pull him until he sits heavily down on the bed next to you.

“What’s going on, Jay?” You rest your head on his shoulder, entwining your arms with his as you cuddle in close.

“Baby, you heard him. You know exactly why I never wanted to bring you home. For all I know, you’re going to return this ring and walk away, just because of my family.” This is what your gorgeous, beautiful, sweet man is worried about?

“I love your family, Jay. Your mom, brothers, sisters, sisters-in-laws, niece and nephews, I love them all. Your family are the people who show you love, who love you unconditionally. They’re your family. Not the man who’s only ever spoken to you like that.” Your voice is soft as you play with his fingers.

“I’m not breaking up with you because of some words somebody I don’t even know says about me. We’ve been through far too much to end because of something like that.” Jake’s chuckle is soft as he pecks your lips gently. 

“We really have, haven’t we?” His voice is just as soft as yours as he cups your jaw. “I love you, baby doll. I’m sorry this Christmas got destroyed. I’m sorry our engagement was overshadowed by my dad’s hissy fit.”

“Nothing could ruin how happy I was when you asked me to marry you last night. I love you.” You tug Jake into a sweet kiss before grabbing your bag.

It doesn’t surprise you in the slightest when Jake gently lifts it from your hands  as you walk out of the door. It also doesn’t surprise you to see Mama Georgie at the foot of the stairs.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. No matter what my husband says, you’re family to me. I can’t wait to see you marry my son. You make him so happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted - my children happy.” You’re tearing up at her words as she hugs you tight. “That’s why I gave Jake the ring my father, his Grandpa Jacob, gave my mother.”

“I hope I’ll see you soon.” You answer Mama Georgie in the affirmative and walk out of the house. It doesn’t surprise you at all to hear the roar of “Henry David Seresin” as you walk out the door, not at all.

You spend the remainder of your time in Texas staying with Henry and Melissa in their cute little cottage a little ways away from Seresin Ranch. It’s refreshing being able to just be yourself. Even better is the view from the front porch you get of holding baby Sarah while watching her dad and uncle work up a sweat cutting firewood. This? This is all you think you could ever want. It’s definitely something you want in your own future. A small baby against your chest and their daddy looking at you like you’re everything he’ll ever need. In one sharp longing moment, you realize that’s all you could ever want with Jake.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

🚙 @mayhemmanaged 🚙 @love2write2626 🚙@little-wiseone

🚙 @eli2447 🚙 @f1maverick 🚙 @desert-fern 🚙 @daphne-turner

🚙 @djs8891 🚙 @shanimallina87 🚙 @chaoticassidy

🚙 @kmc1989 🚙 @dempy 🚙 @mamaskillerqueen 🚙 @abaker74

🚙 @marvelouslyme96 🚙 @cassiemitchell 🚙 @thedroneranger

🚙 @cherrycola27 🚙 @roosterforme 🚙 @dakotakazansky

🚙 @beccaanne814

#star writes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #sometimes all you need (a getaway car) #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader

[vegasandhishedgehog]

Fuck this, I wasn't tagged by anybody but since y'all are making me insane sharing your lovely faves on my dash I gotta join the fun!

10 BL People That I Want Carnally

Just so we're clear, I'm immediately not limiting myself to 10. I'm bi. You think we have limits? (Tumblr says yes, but that's why I'm on desktop for this instead of mobile)

Night from Dirty Laundry

Are we surprised? This awakened a whole thing in me. I was constantly yelling from the rooftops about my love for this man in the cheapest drag you ever saw. This is my JAM. I'm already trying to calm myself down making the first entry on this post. GOD. And his whole committed-to-the-bit romancing a mafia leader and then robbing her because he needs money, but really he's a wee romantic who just wants to write exciting stories like all of us bitches on AO3? Honey I am FREE at 5pm on Saturday. Also, shush, I know it's not a BL, I'm counting it as part of the Midnight Series as a whole :P

Yok from Not Me

PAINT ME LIKE ONE OF YOUR POLICE OFFICERS. We already have matching tattoos babe. He isn't perfect but he's a well-intentioned mama's boy and has swagger.

Maya from Laws of Attraction

Listen, I don't think much explaining is necessary here. I'm a woman but she can call me "pretty boy" any day. Is she just Silvy Pavida with a MILF wife? Yeah. That's the point. I'll join. They would let me.

Speaking of Laws of Attraction, Nawin

I deserve an insane golden retriever boyfriend. I deserve a man who can't spell his ex's name but can get a pilot's license. He deserves someone who will enable his silliness, even when there's trouble with the accountant. *kisses all over his wing tattoo*

Togawa from Old Fashion Cupcake

Mr. Hamster Cheeks my love <3 The dates would be so good. And so would the food. And the food naps afterward. I'm a good snuggler, he's tall and there's a lot to snuggle. Win-win.

Ink from Bad Buddy

I know many of us are weak for Milk Pansa, but like, there's a reason for that. She gave us the ICON for lesbian side couples. Please, girl, scare men away from me when they mistake a boner for full-fledged love. Make me feel welcome and important and pretty and like I'm the specialest girl alive. Be taller than me ;)

Wen Qing from The Untamed

She didn't die, actually, we just eloped together, haha. I just think as someone who studied medicine, she'd have a lot of good tricks up her sleeve and I don't mean acupuncture needles.

Saifah from Enchanté

Yeah. I needed to use this gif. Get that record deal my man. Live your dreams king. I also love that he's both the old man and woman here. Impeccable. We deserved more of him.

Uea from Bed Friend

Gimme this catboy realness right now. Also, I just love him so much. He owns his narrative despite all the shit he has suffered and gets everything he deserves for it. We could be besties even. We could be...no I shan't say it.

SamMon from GAP

I just want whatever is going on right here. Let me join. Simple as that.

Tops and Marwin from Ingredients

I'm this guy. Except I think they'd be sad to see the other with someone else so I gotta have them one at a time. Tops, who's a shy cutie who can make yummy foods. And Marwin, who is basically Jeff Satur just pumped with extra himboisms.

Todd from Not Me

All principles out the window. He's evil, he's sexy. I know exactly how much that specific hotel room costs to stay in for a night. It would be luxurious.

Rain from Love In The Air

I know most people would say Phayu, and for Boss, yeah I understand, I am all there. But something about the way that little guy can fuck kinda makes me dizzy, I'm owning that. He doesn't have to be smart, he's just gotta be given compliments. Plus, my bed sheets match!

VegasPete from KinnPorsche

They altered me chemically once and I'd let 'em do it a second time and many more after that.

Tagging @kissporsche @thisautistic @omegaphobe @shubaka @risu442 @khathastrophe @loveable-sea-lemon @fawndlyvenus @viva-yas-vegas @first-kanaphan @wherelanguage-ends @xxatlasxx @adanima @snake-and-mouse @scarefox @scattered-stardust @callipigio @sparklyeyedhimbo @jdotsodomite @futureexmrsmalcolm @suzteel @jeffsatyr @coconuts-mafia

#I really come across like i'm really into threesomes here for being such an asexual virgin #and what of it #maybe i'll get into that #i'm capable of whatever i want #this was really fun #i hit a lot of bases i think

[inactive02]

Loyalty binds chapter 1

a/n: oop, is that me posting. yep it is, im back and alive sadly, i missed yall very much so i decided to work on this heimdall x non binary oc type series. i thought it would've been really cool to finalize it and write it out. this story is pretty much a back story series for my oc, let me know what you think. this is will going on my ao3 as well.

warnings: theres nothing too bad in this first chapter besides hemidall being heimdall.

words: 2k

Running, that’s all ular ever did, not once did he ever let his fears catch him. If they did, he knew he would be a dead man, the same dream plays like the repeating song of morning birds, the voice of someone calling out his name. Chanting, and chanting until “hey boy! Get up.” his sealed eyes were now open, looking around in a panic before finding the person of this voice. 

Ingmar, the big friendly man who took him in. Raised him like his own. His deep blue eyes and jet black hair with slight grays as he crosses his arms looking down at her, “you know I’m not so positive about being late, plus it’s your first time in Asgard! Don’t want to make your first time a horrible experience, get up and get ready!” Ingmar shouts, The teenager groaned in response, rising from the bed he slept in. Today is a special day for this cute sea boy, Ular. As Ingmar said, it was her first time visiting Asgard, the only time he heard about Asgard was whenever ingamr talked about it. The place sounded like a myth or something that didn’t exist, but it did.

“So, today is finally the day you take me there?” ular teased, in a child-like tone as he hopped around behind Ingmar, heading outside their home to walk up the trail that leads to the wall of Asgard.

“You're getting bratty, kid?” he remarks, looking down at him before standing with his arms crossed. The boy silenced himself in mere seconds of that familiar tone, “huggin!” He barked, raven feathers slowly circling them, Ular’s golden eyes widened in curiosity at what was transpiring in front of him. The birds enclose the two as they are transported. A new life, something new to explore, and Discover is the one thing Ular adores. Fresh things perked her interest in mere seconds.

Once the birds cleared a wonderful sight greeted the little boy, the scenery of the Wooden homes, greenery as far as the eye could see. The lively plaza, shops, and friendly faces around the town. Seeing Ular enjoy the warm and welcoming feeling, Ingmar felt brought a smile to his face, “come on boy! There are lots more to see.” Ingmar shouts, getting the attention of Ular’s ears, he moves quickly catching up to him to follow behind.

In front of him was a tall, wooden, and rather large lodge. Ingmar pushes the two heavy doors open with ease, the slight scrap of wood brought the attention of the people in the room. Ingmar greeted himself with unfamiliar faces Ular doesn’t recognize, There stood a tall woman with long blonde hair and a redhead man with a very bulky body, nearly as big as Ingmar 

“Hey, you two! Remember that little fella I always talked to you all about?” Ingmar lips curved into a bearded smile, “even though he ain’t my son, I still treat him like one” he grinned, revealing the small ular to them. The Leventhion ruffles up his hair, earning a slight whine from Ular.

Thor, the redhead, bent down to look at Ular with a cheeky smile. “You look like a tough boy, I mean you were raised by one” he boasted, eyebrow gesturing towards Ingmar, even though all three of them were gigantic compared to Ular. Surprisingly, he kept his composure.

Sif and Thor were their names, ingmar mentioned them a few times to Ular whenever he asked about Asgard. Saying things like Thor being the god of thunder and sif carrying many scrolls of the nine realms, these two were quite the character. “I hope Asgard is a welcoming place as much as you think it is. You two came in time just for breakfast, come have a seat” Sif stated, giving Ular a soft smile as well, going over to one of the maidens and whispering something to them, marching off to the personal quarters of the lodge. Ular didn’t question much about it, for now, he followed behind Ingmar and takes a seat at the big table, very excited about what was being cooked.

The smell from the kitchen passed by the boy's nose, sweet and meat, is what he smelled, stomach growling, Heavy footsteps brought him out of his hungry daze, and glancing to the source, the maiden guiding a sun kissed-skin colored boy, Blonde but slightly Curly hair draped over his face and wearing a long sleeve silky golden shirt and brown pants. His appearance resembled a prince, the most noticeable detail that stood out was his eyes. His iris shining the color of a deep magenta, Ular’s interest in the new-found friend sparked like a match seeing him, excited that he was meeting someone his age. Someone who he can relate to instead of Ingmar whose way older than him.  After Ular reframed from his thoughts to distract him, the boy sat down in front of him at the table with everyone else, Thor scoffs “you look like helhiem visited you” he laughed, getting the attention of the younger boy with a slight groan of annoyance. 

Ular thought that joke was a bit funny. A chuckle left his chocolate lips, then immediately silenced himself once he felt the male's piercing, magenta gaze on him. “You think that’s funny? How would you think the all father would react knowing you’ve brought an unknown guest, Thor?” He spat back, staring daggers at the poor boy, The other aesir continued to eat his food.

“Get your head out of ya ass, Heimdall. You think he doesn’t know about them.” Thor remarks, chewing on more food, before turning his attention to sif and Ingmar. Leaving the two boys in awkward silence as they eat their breakfast, not once did those hateful eyes leave ulars gaze.

Ular looked between his bowl and the boy, hoping he doesn’t talk, but his wishes aren’t always answered “you're pretty silent for a boy with a loud mind, I’m talking to you!” he stated, waiting for ular to raise his focus from that food. Seconds go by until the caramel teen gave Heimdall his attention.

“Sorry, it’s been a while since I had good food” ular elaborated, a cheeky smile following behind, the blonde hated that smile, how can he smile with those loud thoughts in his head? Heimdall questioned, his thick brows furrowing. 

It annoys him.

Sliding the bowl over to Ular, insisting he can have the rest of his meal, Ular swipes the bowl immediately and continued eating the meal, “what is your name?” Ular asked, chewing his meal. The other male felt quite disgusted by the sound and sight.

“I’m Heimdall, I see you enjoy shrimp stew, it’s my favorite” he replied, a smirk growing on his face watching Ular eat the food. Heimdall admires the sight of such a fragile boy, eating the meal, oblivious to what's in the bowl, hearing the last words the aesir told,  Ular’s expression turned from happiness to disgust in seconds. Maybe he’s going crazy but how did Heimdall know Ular is allergic to seafood, in a quick session Ular tries to get the taste out of his mouth, gulping the nearest water. The sound of Heimdall’s laughter echoes in the background from the show.

Ular finished his mead with a loud gulp to add, before slamming it down, “and that’s how he nearly killed me.” he concludes, his head leaning into his rough palm as he sat at the table with his two close friends, Leif the huldra and the bright redhead larvisa. His two friends indulged in the horrible yet, cute memory ular wanted to tell them about. The taller man remembered the memory like it was yesterday, it was probably the last time he has seen the aesir, purposely avoiding him for many years, but to his dismay Heimdall always found him. Giving him a scare or cry, words of judgment even, whenever ular was caught he wouldn’t hear the end of it from that blonde dog. Years went on, and Ular noticed how he hasn’t seen Heimdall that each year. Which is a good thing, right?

“He’s truly an asshole, straight up!” larvisa comments, kicking her boots up as she sips her mead, the huldra beside her silently drinking their water.

Leif gazes over at ular with a slight tilt of their head, “I'm surprised he hasn’t tried to sabotage you when you were volunteering.” they added, to the already bad look heimdall has for himself. The deity’s mind tried to ponder on that thought but it no longer did once he realized he has many things to do today, ones Sif told him specifically to do

“I’ve forgotten I’m on volunteer today for Sif, she doesn’t like it when I’m late, so I’m heading off!” he exclaims, leaving quickly out the bar. Pushing the bar door open, his soft boots mooch on the grounds of Asgard, speed walking to the great lodge. Some people question, why ular who’s a great being of the many seas is on volunteer duty. Well, he prefers to be on the sidelines knowing there's blood on his hands from his family name, he wants to be the opposite of dangerous. If he’s out all willy-nilly, keeping his hands busy doing many jobs like guarding the sea, helping in the mess hall, maybe even helping with training, or going on important missions for Odin with Ingmar and Thor.

 It makes him feel, human. It may sound like he’s your local housewife, but he’s able to do many things that he’s proud of. Those were the very goals he took seriously to the T as he strides to the great lodge, opening the door with a heavy swing, his vibrant irises already finding Lady sif in seconds. Talking to one of the helpers about the task for the day, the seaman moved over to sif and listens in on the conversation. 

Looming over her for a while before she feels his presence, turning around and receiving a beautiful smile from her. Opening her lips to speak elegantly “I hope you rested well, young man” she charms, earning a cheeky smile from ular out of embarrassment realizing he was a bit late to the party.

“I rested greatly, lady sif” he assured, Sif’s eyes lingering on him for a few seconds before nodding and explaining to him the very task he has today, handing over the wooden basket for collecting the sheets in the back of the great lodge. This wasn’t anything fresh to ular, she was used to doing these tasks every day whenever Sif needs him.

Her walking stopped as finished her orders, and she turned to him again, looking up at Ular “you heard everything I said, right?” She pressures, handing him a wooden basket. Watching Ular nod with haste before she strolled off to deal with her duties, His finger slightly tapped on the wooden material, strolling over to the first place, thrud’s room. Picking up anything that needed to be washed, and doing this slightly with haste, his muscle memory knowing what to get or what to not get. These tasks stray him even further away from his father, it's not a bad thing either, knowing that people mistake him for the son of Cthulhu define him only as that and not his own person, they don’t bleed the same color.

The thought of it drives the man insane because he knows he couldn’t do such a thing nor even try, the result of it is a sigh of irritation leaving his trembling lips trying to cast the thoughts aside. Why, why? is all he could ask himself, this life that was given to him by force was no mistake but held a purpose. 

A purpose he hasn’t quite figured out yet.

The sound of soft scrape of stainless leather and clanging metal plates stood out to Ular’s sensitive ears. It is the hinted of armor that holds no extended use, that was shined and oiled, with grace. The kilt was no foreign sound to him, something so unique that it entered the room; a particular person that wasn’t unfamiliar to him, the kilt shifting with the steps he takes. 

“Wow, you’ve grown to be a maiden! A questionable occupation,” Heimdall cackled, the handsome man standing proud as his gaze combed over the deity. It was hard for ular to hate people, even Heimdall himself isn’t going to break that habit for him.

“Is that your way of asking to get your dirty sheets, Heimdall?” He asked, attention going elsewhere to the task at hand.

Heimdall’s hum slipped to scoff from the response, “reading my mind? As if you could, but since you insist..” 

Walking away from the door frame with a slight shake of his head, Ular followed behind from afar, This interaction feels no different from when they were younger, with Heimdall bashing Ular with his words, maybe even with his hands if they spared. Ular never lets him walk all over him as he does with others.

“Do you have nothing else better to do? Maybe something Odin needs?”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry a bit about that. I simply came to help you organize,” he retorted, stopping at his room door. The aesir’s gaze searches ular's expression for something with a curious eye 

His eyes only found a stiff expression, the deep golden eyes of a man with little patience. Not even being slightly different from before.

“No matter my words, your thoughts think nothing of them?” he questions, a mocking smirk dawning on his lips as his hands graze his own chin.

“Why should I question the words of a dog?”

“Of what?” He snarls, stepping forward with an intimidating posture to suit him. Magenta eyes pierced daggers into golden ones, They know one of them is always ready to talk back to the other with no problem, why should he be scared?

“Heimdall!” The fair old man called, Heimdall’s focus breaking as Odin’s voice shattered the tension between the two.

“Could you come to my study, I want to have a talk with you.” odin commands, stepping away to leave for his study. Ular could notice the movement on his cheeks, the silent biting of his cheek before stomping away from him. Another thing to settle for future preferences, he has all the patients in the world.

But not for Heimdall.

A/N: this took a while to write, i'll try my best to keep up my flow and im gratful you read the first chapter of something very chaotic thats brewing.

#heimdall gow #heimdall x reader #heimdall god of war #heimdall #gow #gow oc #oc x self insert #gow x oc #hes so babygirl #mxm romance #heimdall x male oc #writing #hes so pretty

[araindragon]

Some Fic Recs

Currently been on a Harry Potter & Severus Snape hole. Here are some of my favorites.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25960858  The Re-Sorting of Lions by FlorLP In a meting to discuss the safety of the school in the wake of Sirius Black´s escape, an auror´s sneakoscope detects tampering with the Sorting Hat. All new students, as well as those sorted the last two years, need to be re-sorted to see if their housing was a product of the compulsion spell found in the Sorting Hat.For Harry and Hermione, this might mean they might get the second chance they thought they would not get, both at feeling as they belong and getting the guidance and help they expected when they entered the magical world.No one expects the Gryffindor Golden Boy, the Boy-Who-Lived, to be placed anywhere other than with the lions, so why is his re-sorting taking so long? As he sits and waits for the annoyingly long sorting ceremony to end, Severus Snape starts to wonder if he has missed something about the Potter brat, for surely there is nothing not-Gryffindor about him.And more importantly, how was such a powerful magical object as the Sorting Hat tampered with? And why?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24779923 Another Mind Game by May_May_O_O Harry’s occlumency reveals his disturbing home life which sets off a chain reaction that cannot be undone. Snape finds himself begrudgingly caring about the bespectacled boy, Harry discovers what it's like to have adults who care, and Hermione finds herself becoming an accidental crime lord. Draco Malfoy is very much along for the ride, in all senses of the word.

A ridiculous blend of hilarity and tragedy, Another Mind Game is the multi-faceted fanfiction you didn't know you wanted but will absolutely adore.

Featuring a sassy Harry Potter, good friends, and a great deal of sarcasm.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27175603 Buried Memories by BellaBix On Harry's 10th birthday, he falls gravely ill. So ill that the Dursleys, after days of leaving the boy in agony, are forced to take him to the hospital. When Muggle medicine fails, Severus Snape is the one to answer the call for aid. He soon realizes that all he has been told of the boy's 'pampered', 'loved' and 'spoiled' life have been utter fabrications.When Severus sees the depths to which Albus Dumbledore is willing to sink to play games with their lives, he decides he must protect the boy from the Headmaster, before it is too late.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29013294/chapters/71209311 O Mine Enemy by Kirby Lane When Harry finds an injured Snape on his doorstep and must hide him from the Dursleys, he has no idea that this very, very bad day will be the start of something good.Harry and Snape are thrown together by annoying relatives, a series of strange dreams, and Voldemort's latest hunt for Harry, but their greatest challenge may well be surviving each other. This will be a long summer unless the two can find a way to work together. A slow-burn enemy-to-mentor story.Alternate 6th summer (and part of the school year): post-OotP; ignores HBP and DH. No slash, no romance. NOW COMPLETE!

I know these are pretty high on the Kudos list on AO3 but I have to recommend these works of art. They take the time to help the relationship between characters really develop and it is really awesome. 

#fic rec #harry potter #severus snape #hp #hp fic rec

[anonymoushybr1dity]

i have,, a big ol god/deity au for the dream smp,, but i have no plot based ideas yet,,, i wanna get this idea out Somehow so i am making a snazzy tumblr post about some stuff i enjoy from it smile

- there are four different status levels someone can have in this au: gods, who are the top of the top, immortals with complete control over and abilities pertaining to 1-3 traits; Beings (capital B), who are immortal as well, but are more like the figureheads of certain traits, rather than controlling them. still powerful, but less so than gods; immortals, who are people gods or beings liked enough to decide to keep by their sides for their endless journeys; and then everybody else who just kinda runs around and lives their mortal life. just ur average joe

- gods/Beings/immortals (we’ll just group em together as gods for now) usually have very ironic powers. for example, tommy is both the god of chaos and discipline, ranboo is a Being of memories, new beginnings, and sides, tubbo is god of illusions and power, etc etc. it’s very unfortunate lol

- completely unintentional, but twitch prime and channel membership are a part of this au? to the point where the majority of my structuring centers around them lmao,, they are twin gods of prosperity and punishment, people tend to say “prime is prosperity, channel is punishment” but they equally share power of the titles (prime subs - tos, channel members - demonitization)

- dreamXD and The Blood God are in the au as well :] dreamXD is the Being of control and The Blood God is.... u guessed it.......... blood. and also voices. it was originally meant in their power as “giving voice to the people” in the form of violence, but it manifested itself as the years went on as Chat

- the original point of me making this au was to make tommy and ranboo gods... it spiraled out of hand Very Fast as you can see

- charlie slimecicle is an immortal!! ppl tend to leave him offerings and build temples in his name because he’s been around for That Long, but he’s just immortal, not a god or Being. (they think he’s god of strife and joy)

- since foolish is canonically a god (??? HELLO) he’s one in this au as well,,,,, even tho i don’t anything about him pensive emoji fist emoji

- bbh is also a Being... he is adoration and fear (hello eggpire community)

- there are four people on the smp who follow specific gods- everyone else is just ur basic twitch prime or channel membership follower. since specific followers are very uncommon nowadays, they’re usually given some sort of ability, and those abilities are usually op if they leave sacrifices. these four are:   - dream, follower of Chaos and Control. leaves sacrifices for Control, given admin abilities in return.   - techno, follower of Blood. leaves sacrifices for Blood, given immortality (and chat, by accident) in return.   - karl, follower of New Beginnings. no sacrifices (given time travel (and memory problems from the time travel))   - sam, follower of Illusions/Power (both aspects). no sacrifices (given perception alteration)

- dreamXD is... not a great god. none of them are, really, but dreamXD is arguably the worst. he plays heavy favorite and gives out abilities if someone so much as drops food by accident at a temple for him. he’s v obsessive and tends to lose control over himself at the slightest hint of things not going his way (irony coming out)

- i have a whole number-system list of how much each person on the server believes in twitch prime... for context of what that means, bbh is a 1.5/4, tommy is a 4/4, fundy is a 4/4, and wilbur was previously a 3/4, now a 0/4. each one has a reason for it (bbh streams on both platforms & is now engaged with the egg, tommy Is Literally A God, fundy was raised on it in a very prime-engrossed enviornment... remember when wilbur came back after nov 16 and said he looked god in the eyes and decided they didn’t exist?)

- tommy’s video where they made the holy lands is canon in this au, but the actual events are pretty different… they were discussing the old books about the ancient religions of prime and channel and how much (if at all) they believed in it. the bit got out of hand and tommy+tubbo proposed the idea of building a church to prime. they were doing it to make their friend happy, but dream and quackity just thought it was for the bit, so they agreed. midway through construction, prime just. descended from the heavens. and walked amongst the mortal men once again. they does not possess dream; rather, they take on a vaguely humanoid form and help them with the construction (blessing the waters that run through the fountain as well as the bell) before leaving.

- the egg is a gross byproduct of dreamXD and The Blood God that spiralled way out of control

- prime and channel are usually associated with bells :] villages will typically have communal bells which everyone is free to use for either god. it’s more common to see a bell that’s specifically dedicated to channel than it is to see one specifically dedicated to prime because the followers of channel are typically less lenient, but it’s far more common to see one dedicated to both of them than either of those options.

- philza got his wings from prime in this au. he no longer has his wings on the smp. interpret that as you wish.

- dream (c!dream, remember, this is an au) is vewy religious in this au. like. excessively so. that’s why he’s so op, why he has access to creative, why he somehow has the time and ability and resources to build shit like his vault or the obsidian walls. he obsesses over Control and Control obsesses over him in return. The other Gods are getting wary.

- on a more lighthearted note, slime and twitch prime are homies. they canonically meet for brunch every other month :]

//

i’ll add onto this post as i go along and have more things!! so far, though, this is all the important stuff i figured i’d spit out onto here lmao. i have a couple of drabbles written up, but since they’re v short, i’ll probably post them here (and make up a tag head in hands) sometime in the future rather than on ao3!!  hope u enjoyed if u read this far <3 suprise hydration check go drink some water!!!

#mcyt #dream smp #dsmp #maybe the tag can be uhhh #deity au? #bro.... #if i post this on ao3 the series would be called Golden Boys....... #looks at golden retriever dogs looks at everyone in this au looks back up #they r Golden ur honor #and also sun & video game mechanic gold & honey & golden flower symbolism #FUCK IT THE TAG IS GOLDEN BOYS NOW #Golden Boys AU #dont like that au name???? #WHERE R THE ASKERS???? #(/j by the way pls i love u i promise) #yeah okay maybe ive been listening to WHERE ARE THE ASKERS for 2 hours #maybe i havent u dont know me #(the answer is yes i have) #k time to stop tagging this smile have a good day ladies and gents and gender yesn't

[fabled-fiction]

The Current of Water and Blood Run The Same

Part 5 of the Curiosity Eternalized Series

A story about the you, the ever so curious Eternal and your life through time. Pinning, and mourning and feeling every possible human emotion one could feel during infinity.

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: No warnings for this chapter

A/N: This is the fifth part in an ongoing series that I have started!! Chapters are usually posted a few days earlier on Ao3, so go check it out!

Link to Part 4: The Hush Before the Curtain Rises

-----------------------------------------------------------

It almost surprised you how many thoughts were going through your head.

From what you could hear or at least make out, it was all a medley of panic and fear. Flashes of intense emotion, the want to protect and the need to run. Both an unsettling feeling to turn and hide in the darkest corner you could find, any place really that would ensure your survival. You wanted to run but there was also this urge to find someone important to you. Names and faces flashed in wild succession in your head. 

You were convinced some of these thoughts were not your own.

Especially as you stood, frozen in place watching as the Deviant came barreling down the street with Its's murderous intent. Adrenaline courses through your veins, and you try to swallow whatever panic that was yours. The problem being that you couldn’t tell what panic was yours or was the villagers, and it was hard to swallow that fear down a sandpaper throat. 

Then you see the little girl and little boy in the middle of the street. How…how did they get there.

The Deviant is heading straight for them.

The feeling of a cold panic leaves your body, and instead is replaced by a burning in your lungs. Maybe it's because of your sudden sprint, or maybe it's because of the blazing desire to make sure these people get the chance to evolve. Your feet reacted before your head, as quick as it was. The clothes of Mesopotamia whipping and catching the sand that was twisting about the air, creating a sort of image that surrounds you as others watch you run towards danger. Sliding to a halt in front of them, you wrap your arms around both of them, lifting them up and running the other way with the two of them gripping ever so tightly onto your arms. Their mother then took them and ran even faster than you thought a human could run.

A scream that cut through the air interrupted your amazement, and as you turned you saw a woman grabbed by the Deviant.

The want to protect fills your chest again as your hand reaches out, golden lace drawings appear on her torso and the Deviant’s hand with a grip of your palm. What could be called It’s fingers bent back with a sickening crunch as they folded in on themselves, she flew back to land on her feet a safe and long distance away.

“We have to get them back.” Your voice cracks with the nerves of the responsibility you felt. 

Turning, you saw Druig. It looked as if his mind was running a mile a minute just like yours was. His hand rested on your shoulder, and you were finally able to swallow. It seemed as if both of you were in over your head. You were both capable Eternals, but the sudden situation had both your overactive minds breaking and attempting to get back on track while they were simultaneously backfiring as they tried to figure out just how to backtrack. 

‘We’re both noncombat Eternals…how are we supposed to protect these people?''

Shaking the thought away, you look around. You knew what you had to do, but you just didn’t feel like you could successfully achieve your goal. There were so many options and choices that were laid out in front of it, it seems impossible to not feel overwhelmed. 

“Take over their minds, get them far from here. I'll distract the Deviant. The others have surely noticed that we’re gone…or at least that a Deviant is attacking.”

A look of shock…or was it hesitation shot across Druig’s face. As if his mind could run any faster, all of a sudden he became the loudest one. His thoughts were overpowering as his thoughts filled with a similar narrative to your own. How could he help, how could he stop this Deviant. The thought of how he could stop you from going off on your own became the loudest. He thought you were crazy for even suggesting it. You all had only known each other for such a short period of time, but he knew that you would need more help than it seemed. Or maybe that was just his own internal judgments of everyone's capabilities.

“Are you crazy? You can’t hold off a Deviant on your own! Let me help.”

“Someone needs to get these people out of here! You have the ability. I can try and block It's path or even hold it back with my ability.” You huff as you turn and see the Deviant slowly crawl back up onto a hut, having seemingly overcome the pain of it's hand folding in on itself.

“But you’ve never tried using your ability to that scale…”

Turning to face him you look at the people behind you both. They're running and tripping over themselves, some are even close to trampling over others that are slower or smaller. In the midst of trying to get to what they deem as safety they are hurting themselves. 

“You don't think I know that? But these people need us despite our ability or lack thereof.”

Druig stares at you for a moment, and in a moment that seemed unlike him again he huffs before turning away from you. You watch as the eyes of the humans that are in the vicinity gloss over and turn gold. He starts to jog away, the others following behind him. Leaving you to now deal with the threat that you had so valiantly said you would distract.

For a second, you regretted those words. Especially as now you were the only target in sight, or at least an obstacle in the way of the Deviant's next meal.

A plethora of options flipped through your mind, and an attempt was made at trying to rationalize each one in that moment. But for some reason you knew better, despite this being the first real situation where you would have to use any knowledge you had in order to stay alive. You didn't have any expertise to rely on, so your only "logical" option was to rely on your adrenaline and instinct.

Jumping up into the air you lifted yourself onto a nearby roof, nearly missing the Deviant that then barreled into another nearby home. Watching as it seemingly shook off the pain, you looked around the village for anything to help you possibly immobilize the Deviant. It was creating a lot of rubble with It's incessant need to break down any sort of progress these humans had done. You knew that was Its purpose, to halt whatever progress they made. They would have their work cut out for themselves after this was all said and done.

Sliding down the roof, you knelt down behind the wall as it stalked around visibly confused.

Your hands laid on something coarse…looking down you saw it was a weaved cord of straw and whatever other material that could stay together. Taking it in your hand, you swallowed.

If you could try to restrain It, or at least render it motionless. The others were soon to be here…

Slowly stepping out from your cover, you quickly tied the rope into some sort of loop. You knew you didn’t have the strength to wrangle it in by its neck. That would probably just do more harm to you. But one leg was already injured. So if you could find a way to tie up it’s limbs that could give you a chance.

Raising a piece of rubble up, you hurl it at the Deviant. It bounces off It’s head, but did the job of catching it’s attention and turning it on you. Standing there in the middle of the road, you watch as It begins It’s gallop towards you. The arm, the one you had caved in, tucked close to it’s chest. The other three legs were doing a well off job of sending It hurtling towards you. But you knew now that you’d have to catch that injured arm first, and the rest would…well would be a metaphorical breeze.

But first you had to not get eaten…

This was easier said than done, especially now as a familiar burning and cracking feeling fills your chest when you suddenly find yourself air bound. You had not anticipated how quick the Deviant would be in It's descent upon you. Your back eventually found its way, bouncing and rebounding off the compacted sand that no doubt hardened like stone under the rushed feet of the fleeing civilians. To no fault of their own, but unfortunately it would leave a sizable ache in your spine. Feeling the back of your head with your hand, a heat slicked your fingers only for you to realize that it was blood when you had pulled your hand back to see they were painted a shade of ruby. Well that's not how this was supposed to go, wasn't it supposed to be the other way around? With the Deviant's blood on your hand, and not your own?

Using whatever brain was left in your head, you managed to roll out of the way of the next slash. Not the most heroic escape, but who was really worried about that when the realization came to you that you were way over your head. You were supposed to be smart, had you not remembered that you had only just started your battle training. Ajak said it herself that you were not ready to fight deviants yet...and by how this was going you could only agree.

But that did not mean you would stop trying. You had to protect these people, that's what you were here for.

So, pulling yourself back onto your knees and wrapping the cord around your arm you did what you knew you did best. Observe. If you weren't good at fighting you'd have to rely on what you were good at. Analyzing. You had luckily already had one part of the plan figured out you just had to find out a way to execute it.

The Deviant was too fast on it's three remaining legs for you to take on, as you had just experienced. You were sure you weren't strong enough yet to physically lift it, you were really only confident in lifting inanimate objects or non-moving animate objects. With those two options checked off your hazing brain scanned the terrain. There had to be something!

Water...

You had felt it earlier for just a second. But it could have been the perfect battleground...or at least even the playing field and give you a chance to bind the Deviant.

Slowly propping yourself up against a beam you chucked another piece of rubble at the Deviant who was searching for you. It turned its head again, but instead of waiting this time you ran. Your arms pumping to the beat of your heart as you run towards the river. The drumming of your shoes against the bridge rang in your ears, louder than the screaming of your lungs. Sliding to a halt, the screaming only became louder until you took a few deep breaths in. While there was a little regret in some of the buildings you were about to ruin, you knew that they were just buildings. And like their name, they could be rebuilt.

A similar drumming was coming from the start of the bridge. You knew it was the Deviant, It's only objective being to catch you. You weren't entirely sure how appetizing and Eternal would be to a Deviant, but you weren't ready to find an answer to that question yet.  Kneeling on the bridge, you started to hit the crude wooden structure. Using your ability in a way you hadn't before was new to you, but if you broke this bridge when the Deviant was atop of you, it would send you both into the water. Then, maybe just maybe you could get the jump on it.

Just as the bridge had begun to give, with cracks and splinters beginning to surround you, the Deviant got to you first. Its meaty paws coming to try and pin you down. For just a moment it did, wrapping its claws around your torso to pin you against the fraying wood, your burning muscles feeling every flaw of It's claws as they dug into your sides. But just as it has pushed you into the flexing bridge, the weakened wood finally gave out.

The water encapsulated you and the Deviant together, foe and foe frozen for just a moment in the state of the ever evolving currents. It cooled your skin, and invaded your injuries feeling as if Ajak herself was mending you. The waters ran through every deep recess of the wounds, feeling as if it was trying to fill whatever skin had been broken by the purging claws of the monster.

But you were soon brought back to your immortal body, when you felt the same cooling water assault your lungs. From one panicked state to the next, your eyes shot open to look at the Deviant through the red ribboned aquamarine stream. It too was struggling, but still somehow keeping it's grip on you. But because of its grip and also the injured state of its arm, it gave you the chance to execute your plan. You were good at controlling the state of your mind. While your body was panicked, trying desperately to cling at whatever breath was left in your lungs, your head stayed on a swivel as you unwrapped the cord from your arm and tied it to the arm that held you. 

Caving it's fingers in again, with whatever wiggle room the suspended state of water gave you along with the aid of your ability, you quickly swam down towards It's kicking legs. One arm was immobile, and the other dragging down with you as you reached near it's legs.

Going on pure instinct, a feeling you felt was your unfortunate last resort at this point, you wrapped your legs around what could only be considered It's ankles to try and get some leverage on finishing the job. But again, with instinct being the bitch it was, you did not anticipate how hard it would be to rope down the Deviant while trying to steady yourself on it's thrashing legs. It would be easier to fight Thena with one arm tied behind your back than to do this.

The rope somehow found its way around the Deviant's legs, but before you could finish the task that you finally seemed to achieve a bone breaking grip ripped you from the water and thus the grip on the rope was gone.

Landing on the wet sand near the edge of the Nile, a churning eruption of water came from your chest. You coughed and coughed violently, as you felt a hand make its way onto your back. Everything was sticking to your drenched figure. The clothes of Mesopotamia clung to you, as well as the tunic that no doubt needed to be mended.

And while those were all becoming a second thought, the only thing that came to your mind now was who had pulled you from the water.

Beside you, the hand that rubbed your back, was small. With one glance you saw Sprite. Her face painted with worry as she reached to rub your cheek. You didn't need to read her mind to know how worried she was...

Looking forward you saw Kingo and Phastos. Both were just standing there in awe. Unlike Sprite, they looked to be processing what exactly was just happening. And for a moment, while your chest began to rise and fall at a normal pace once more, you felt a swell of pride. A fighter and a thinker were both in awe of you, and for a moment you chose to see it as awe in your ability to at least subdue a Deviant temporarily.

But then a very loud and very foreboding mind made its way to be the subject of your attention.

Ikaris was walking very quickly up to you. His own body dripping with both water and egotism, as he made his way up to you. It didn't take long for it to become apparent that he was the one that had pulled you from the River, and seemingly from his eyes shifting from gold to their normal icy gaze he had also just disposed of the Deviant you had taken so long to wrangle.

"What was that?! You had no business fighting a Deviant on your own! Furthermore, you had no business interacting with the Humans before we all made our entrance."

His words that were laced with a heavily spiteful accent rang in your ears, and jostled around in your head for longer than they should have. Ikaris stood there huffing, his hair like yours sticking to his forehead and framing his furrowed brows. If looks could kill...well his’ certainly could.

You only stared at him, feeling something bubble up in your chest. He stood there expectantly, knuckles white and looking...down at you. But you could tell again, without even looking into that big head of his, that he was looking down on you.

"What," you coughed, as you slowly stood with the help of Sprite. "You want me to apologize? Would that make you feel better?"

"(Y/N)..." Sprite whispered from beside you.

You weren't entirely sure where that came from, maybe it was the adrenaline wearing off or you were only giving back the attitude that you were taking from him. But with that comment, and the reaction it got from him a sudden sharp pain erupted from your side. Your hand had been pressing down on it the entire time, and you had only noticed the throbbing pain now after being pulled from the water. Sprite's own hands were also pressing on it, but the call of your name from her just now had not been from your comment but instead were in worry of the state you were in.

The Deviant had seemingly almost ripped your side from you, in a last ditch effort to win the battle.

Stumbling just a bit, your hand shot out to hold Sprite's shoulder. Looking past Ikaris, you see Druig off in the distance with Thena walking behind him. He was walking with a quick pace, but before you could stand fully Ikaris blocked your view.

"Look what happened when you went off on your own, you put our reputation at risk with this stunt."

His hand went to grip your arm again, seemingly to bring you back to the Domo in order to bring you to Ajak. But it felt wrong, you could very well bring yourself to the Domo. You were doing...fine against the Deviant before he showed up.

Ripping your arm from his grip, you took about two steps forward before falling to the ground and the bright sun of the sandy civilization fading to black.

#eternals #marvel #marvel studios #marvel x reader #eternals x reader #marvle imagines #druig #druig x reader #eternals image #comics #druig imagine

[sitp-recs]

Star Crossed by @gallifrey1sburning​

Harry/Draco (2021, T, 13k)

The Wimbourne Wasps and the Appleby Arrows have been bitter rivals for centuries. When a nasty brawl ends one of their Seekers’ careers, the teams need new blood to take up the slack and divert attention from the bad publicity. And who better to distract the press than the infamous Draco Malfoy and golden boy Harry Potter? Called back from successful careers abroad, the pair are once again to be pitted against one another in an epic feud. Too bad no one told them that before they started flirting…

I was inspired to post this rec - which has been sitting in my drafts for a long, long time - after seeing GB’s beautiful message honouring the Trans Day of Visibility 🏳️‍⚧️ I was touched by their powerful words and thought this could be a good moment to share some appreciation, as I’ve been following their microfics for a while but this is my first rec for one of their works. I initially planned to rec a trans Drarry fic or put together a proper reclist but I’m running low on time this week and since this was already in my drafts I hope you’ll forgive the very late post 💜 this was supposed to be part of a LCD 2021 rec series last year, but I never finished checking the fest and as my mental health took a turn for the worse I ended up shelving my half-drafted recs. I’m currently trying to clean my drafts as an exercise in self-acceptance and to let those recs, a labour of love celebrating something that brought me so much joy, see the light of day and maybe touch someone else’s heart too. I left the initial text intact so it would convey my happy thoughts after reading this light, fun, charming and romantic Romeo x Juliet AU:

I’m so so happy to be back with the single recs! Time is still an issue so I’m not sure about the frequency but I’m taking my time and trying to get my mojo back for good. I decided to start with recent fests and I’m doing it with style! I’ve been following Gallifrey’s short works on tumblr for a while now and I got a major weakness for Quidditch rivals & forbidden love shenanigans, so why not jump into this charming and sweet fic right away? For those who enjoy flirtatious banter and a smooth, light atmosphere with adult Harry and Draco going after what they want, this is a must read. The witty dialogue only made me fall deeper for these characters, Harry still very much “predictably impulsive” and not-at-all suave meeting a teasing and straightforward Draco is such a delight to read! I love how they’re portrayed here, and the way their personalities fit so well together.

The narrative flows nice and easy, full of cute flirting, fun references and exciting sneaking around, plus the softest love confession you’ll read this week. What’s more romantic than a star crossed love affair with your old school nemesis in a modern Romeo & Juliet style? I’m so here for this trope, btw anything involving Draco and Harry as opposite Quidditch players goes straight into my heart, I love the exciting potential for healthy competition and low key flirting of course! It’s such a fun trope to read, and it makes me incredibly happy to watch them finding freedom in doing what they do best - flying, bantering, loving. This was a very special treat, softly romantic and exactly what I needed after a stressful work day - sometimes you just want to enjoy a darling romance and remember why you love these two idiots. Enjoy!

Read on AO3

#drarry fic rec #quidditch rivals #secret relationship

[wangxianficrecs]

Follower Recs

~*~

Hello Mojo, hope you're doing well and that you had a good break! I wanted to signal boost the MDZS May Diaspora event collection on AO3, and point out my favorite fic from there: 归心似箭 | Longing to Go Home by dragongirlG! It's both tender and bittersweet and it features such mature writing. The author got some hate for it when it initially got posted so I wanted to counter that and give it some love instead! [Who would do such a thing?!  @dragongirlg-fics I’m sorry that happened to you, and here, have *so many hugs!* I’ll try to do a thing just for the diaspora event, but meanwhile, I’ll just treat this as a follower rec.]

归心似箭 | Longing to Go Home

by dragongirlG (M, 8k, wangxian)

Summary:  The destruction of the Yin Tiger Seal does not kill Wei Wuxian; it ages him instead. He takes shelter in a cave expecting to die, but instead he lives, slowly learning to embrace life with each new day.

Thirteen years later, a young man with a Lan forehead ribbon stumbles into the cave. His name is Lan Sizhui.

~*~

Hi Momjo!!! I recently read the most *adorable* fic, and I loved it so much that it dragged me out of seclusion (read: social anxiety cave) to rec it. It's called 'Covered in Bees' by ScarlettStorm in which the Cloud Recesses is an apiary, and Wei Wuxian has suddenly found himself host to a swarm of bees. ~ @akyra-talanoa

Covered in Bees

by ScarlettStorm (T, 8k, wangxian)

Summary: “Cloud Reccesses Apiary,” says a toneless, deep masculine voice, with zero question in it. Wei Ying doesn’t care, because whoever possesses that voice is probably going to come save him from bees like a fucking hero while wearing like, a suit of armor. That’s what you wear to catch bees, right?

“I have like, so many bees outside my front door right now,” he says, mouth running out ahead of him before he can even begin to think about reining it in. “It’s like a sandstorm of bees out there. There are so many bees. I got out of my car and there were just bees and I don’t want these bees. Do you want these bees? Please tell me you will come get these bees. I can’t leave my house and I have enough food for maybe a week but then I’m gonna have to learn how to cook dry beans and no one wants that, especially not me.” Wei Ying runs out of air, takes a breath, and belatedly adds, “My name is Wei Ying. Hi.”

Or: The beekeeping AU that no one asked for.

~*~

Hi, you are a bless to this fandom. Your blog feels like a library, so thoroughly arranged and always within hand reach. [Thank you, wow!]  Recently, I was going through Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn is a Wēn tag and came across a fanfic, it has 3 chapters till now and is so intriguing that i thought to recommend it to you. I don't know if I can recommend or if you have already checked the story, The legendary Phoenix and his Dragon by Devipriya. I am in love with this story. I hope you will enjoy it too, do check it out

The legendary Phoenix and his Dragon

by Devipriya (T, 7k, wangxian)

Summary:  Wen Wuxian, the essence of who he is, he is a naughty child, a prankster, an enchanting dizi player, a graceful dancer, an irresistible lover, a truly valiant warrior, a ruthless vanquisher of his foes, a man who left a broken heart in every home, an astute statesman and kingmaker, a thorough gentleman, a righteous individual of the highest order, and the most colorful incarnation.

He has been seen, perceived, understood and experienced in many different ways by different people. Different people saw different facets of who he is. For some, he is God. For some, he is a crook. For some, he is a lover. For some, he is a fighter. He is so many things.

But the phoenix, seen from the eyes of time was just a playful man. A man who plays with his awareness, with his imagination, with his memory, with his life, with his death. An individual who does not just dance with somebody. He dances with life. He dances with his enemy, He dances with the one he loves, He dances even at the moment of his death.

To taste an essence of who is Wen Wuxian, be with me in the journey of exploration, NO! playful exploration of life of a playful man.

~*~

Hi! Thanks for running this blog, it's helped me find so many fics. For your next follower recs post, I wanted to rec "This love like a flood, a fire, a fear" by natcat5. Its summary is vague (which I suspect is why it isn't better known) but it is a beautiful retelling of canon from LWJ's POV with slight canon divergence. I love the author's characterization of him and the prose is gorgeous. It is easily my favorite fic in the entire fandom, and I don't say that lightly. ~ @nyanja14

This love like a flood, a fire, a fear

by natcat5 (M, 57k, wangxian, lan wangji & lan xichen)

Summary:  “I will love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence, and as justice loves to sit and watch everything go wrong.”   - Lemony Snicket

~*~

i came to this ask to rec this baseball one called "Waiting for Spring" by thievinghippo on ao3. It somehow made me care about baseball soooo 'nough said ~ @scifikimmi

Waiting for Spring

by thievinghippo (E, 131, wangxian)

Summary:  “It is a well-known fact across the major leagues that one does not smack Lan Wangji’s ass.”

Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes. Everyone smacks everyone’s ass in baseball. It’s how the game is played. Lan Wangji does not get to be exempt from this most sacred of baseball traditions.

Wei Wuxian will make sure of that.

Or, a Major League Baseball AU

~*~

hi mojo! i wanted to rec Something Good by boxoftheskyking (a loose sound of music/canon divergence au) and also MDZS: The Golden Engine by iffervescent (immortal wangxian modern au where they gotta solve a mystery and save china, featuring jiang cheng/lan xichen)

Something Good

by boxoftheskyking (T, 43k, wangxian)

Summary:  "That Wei Wuxian, you know he used to be such a promising cultivator. Head Disciple of the Jiang Clan, can you believe it? You see, juniors, the punishment for traveling the path of demonic cultivation. No golden core, not so much as a whisper of spiritual power."

As a punishment for real and imagined crimes, Wei Wuxian is sentenced to work at Cloud Recesses as the lowest of servants. When a surprising reassignment lands him with eleven children to care for, everything changes again.

A Sound of Music AU

MDZS: The Golden Engine

by iffervescent (E, 82k, wangxian, xicheng)

Summary:  In the modern era, immortals Lan Zhan and Wei Wuxian return to Gusu. New evil and old friends + new friends and old evils.

~*~

Hi Mojo! First of all let me just tell you that you are amazing and this blog is like a gift from the gods! Bless you and your endless patience and hard work. [Oh, thank you so much!]  I know that you have just accepted follower recs and I have missed miserably but I still wanted to write and bring attention to a writer by the pseudo Xiao_Hua on ao3, I think they are quite good and I just recently found the account with so much content. If you do have the time to check them out, I'd rec catfish, my fox or the red ribbon.

The Red Ribbon

by Xiao_Hua (M, 21k, wangxian, TGCF crossover)

Summary:  Wei WuXian died but not before saving HanGuang-Jun and A-Yuan, leaving so much more behind than just his ribbon.

My Fox

by Xiao_Hua (E, 13k, wangxian)

Summary:  Once he headed to YiLing that all changed for him. His priorities have been mingled with and ordered in complete disarray even without him noticing as he was left heavily influenced by a creature.

Or one where Lan WangJi is a dragon-spirit and he finds his mate in the form of a fox.

Catfish

by Xiao_Hua (E, 15k, wangxian)

Summary:  Wei WuXian has a common sense that believes it has a nine-to-five job while Lan WangJi finds that incredibly hot.

Or one where two catfish realise that neither of them truly catfished.

~*~

Hi Mojo i'm recommending this amazing fic it is called song of joys and regrets. it's a time travel AU it's amazing. And your Blog is a Godsend Thank you! [Aw, you’re so sweet!]  ~ @highgoddess

Song of Joy and Regrets

by HelloKitten (not rated, 59k, wangxian, WIP)

Summary:  The Archery competition at Qishan this year has hit a snag. As the Sects face the wrongs perpetrated by their future selves, Wei Wuxian finds himself adopted by half of the cultivation world who are determined to save him from himself.

Baby Wangxian suffers. Adult Wangxian's job here is done.

"I'm starting to see a pattern to all his plans..." "Do they all involve him being bait?" "Yes" came deadpanned responses.

~*~

Here’s a 2021 Reverse Big Bang entry, in time for Father’s Day; [Oops, my bad, sorry!]  Under a Blanket of Black Wings, by ChaoticAndrogynous (#31398395); LWJ, recuperating from the 33 lashes, tells A-Yuan a series of fairytales about a heroic monster and the brave little boy he befriended. Vampire! WWX (in the framing story as well as the story-within-the-story); happy ending.

Under a Blanket of Black Wings

by ChaoticAndrogynous (T, 19k, wangxian)

Summary:  Lan Wangji tells A-Yuan a bedtime story about a beautiful monster and the brave little boy who was his friend. Thirteen years later, the monster returns.

~*~

Hello Mojo! Have you read ‘Key Differences’ by Pupeez4eva? Its a MDZS!WWX meets CQL!WWX and its really good! [It’s on my list!]

Key Differences

by pupeez4eva (T, 6k, wangxian)

Summary:  “I don’t understand,” Wei Wuxian said, while his alternate self continued to stare at him with almost a look of hurt in his eyes. There was longing in there too, which Wei Wuxian would have easily recognised if he paid enough attention. “How could you not get together, after everything. What even went on in the Guanyin Temple if you didn’t confess?”

“The Guanyin Temple,” Wei Ying repeated incredulously. “You’re asking me if I confessed at — honestly, a lot went on that day. It was a life and death situation. There was no confessing.”

Wei Wuxian stared at him, appalled.

(Wherein Wei Wuxian ends up meeting an alternate version of himself who, much to his horror, never married Lan Wangji. Obviously he has to do something to fix this).

~*~

Hey Mojo i would recommend this fanfic if you already haven’t, it’s called “ take me back to a time “ by DizziDreams. It’s sooooo good

take me back to a time

by DizziDreams (T, 144k, wangxian, 3zun)

Summary:  Wei Ying has a lot on his plate right now.

It’s finals week -- which isn’t so bad. He’s never had to study much to do well in classes. But that just means that things are that much more tense with Jiang Cheng, who, as far as Wei Ying can tell, only takes study breaks long enough to glare at Wei Ying where he sits on the couch playing video games.

It’s not studies that have Wei Ying stressed out. It’s everything else. It’s the recruitment for the research trial he’s coordinating. It’s jiejie and her impending marriage to His Royal Douchebag Jin Zixuan. It’s the volunteer work at the palliative care facility. It’s Wen Ning’s worsening condition. It’s Wen Qing working herself thin to care for her brother and Wen Yuan. It’s the way Wen Yuan never seems to have enough food.

So, yeah. There’s enough on Wei Ying’s plate already, meaning it’s not entirely welcome when he comes home and finds a man standing in his bedroom. A man in extravagant white robes, a ribbon tied around his forehead, long hair gathered into a topknot, fist clutching a sword at his side, who asks him, “Where am I?”

~*~

Idk if this has already been rec’d (I’ve been off the grid for a while now), but there’s this absolutely incredible fic called Restitution by an anon on ao3 people should definitely check out!

this one?

on restitution

by Anonymous (M, 78k, wangxian, jin ling & wei wuxian, lan sizhui & wei wuxian, WIP)

Summary:  When Wei Wuxian regains consciousness, he is in a bed. A real, proper bed, not the slab he called a bed in his cave in the Burial Mounds.

Jiang Cheng is glowering above him.

Wei Wuxian doesn't die during the siege of the Burial Mounds. Rather, he is captured in secret and confined at Lotus Pier. Things change accordingly.

~*~

Hi momjo! I feel like every time I come to your blog there's twenty more new and amazing fics for me to read. Thank you for everything you do for this fandom!  [Thank you, sweetie!  And yes, I think there ARE 20 new fics every day out there in the fandom.  It’s amazing!] Today I come bearing my own rec to you. I've recently read this and it's IMO one of the best fics out there. It's called Lapsteel by carriecmoney and it's a modern stormchaser AU featuring country songs and coming home. ~ @manaika-chan​

Lapsteel

by carriecmoney (T, 42k, wangxian)

Summary:  Now and then, I think about you now and then...

It's been thirteen years since Wei Ying ran for the prairies, leaving behind a family in shambles and a secret on the Pacific wind. What happens when the storm he swirled catches up to him?

Modern AU with country music star Lan Zhan, stormchaser Wei Ying, and shared crossroads.

~*~

#wangxian fic rec #follower recs #wangxian #mdzs #the untamed #follower rec #I HAVEN'T READ THESE YET

[liquid-luck-00]

My Life is One Complication After Another

Inspired by this post by @dolphin-ghost

Happy New Year everyone

Some cursing 🤬

Ao3 ~~~ Part 1 ~~~ Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette has always been willing to give everyone a second chance. That may have been why she still had people to consider them as her friends. That is why when Lila started yet another lie about some celebrity she, Adrien, Chloe, and Juleka were holding their laughter and rolled their eyes.

"Honest Alya I'm like this" Lila crossed her fingers "with Bruce's kids." Alya must not have recognized the name as the liar gave a small laugh "oh, right Bruce Wayne, he prefers to only go by Bruce."

"Oh my God, Girl you have got to give me an interview for my blog!" Alya lapped up the story.

"Of course" Lila smiled, then looked over at Marinette "Anything for my best friend."

At this point, Marinette wasn't paying attention to the liar. Instead Mari was talking in low voices with her actual best friend, Adrien. They sat on the very back bench and Juleka and Chloe on the bench in front of them.

That was their normal, it had been since their eighth year. Now two years later it was routine, her classmates shunned her only talking with her for class assignments. Otherwise they ignored her and that may just have been the best outcome.

She, Chloe, Juleka, Luka, and Adrien were in the park working on a photoshoot. Adrien was behind the camera while Juleka and Luka were modeling. Marinette and Chloe were changing for the next set. When they came out Mari noticed several reporters around the perimeter. Security had them handled and she focused on modeling her creation.

However this wasn't the last she saw of the reporters. They were always at the school questioning the students. What they were asking she didn't know as she was never questioned.

Three weeks of spotting and avoiding reporters, with them swarming the school she needed to get creative in order to transform. Lila was of course bathing in the limelight and attention.

Mari was the last person out of the school as she was getting the homework for her three friends who didn't come today. The first thing she noticed coming out of the courtyard was the purple limo. Her honorary uncle came to pick her up. As soon as the door closed said uncle was crushing her in a hug.

"It's Rock' n to see ya Nettie" Jagged spoke, the hug muffling his voice slightly.

"Same here Jagged," wiggling out of Jagged's hug she reached over to hug Penny. "so what's with the escort?"

"A close friend of ours wanted to meet you and He and his son's are waiting at our room," Penny explained.

"Okay..." she hesitated exiting the car to head inside "but why? Is this a commission or what?"

After a silent elevator ride, Penny hesitated at the door before speaking. "We are hoping you could clear something up actually," as she opened the door.

Mari stepped in and noticed them. The eldest looked to be around mid to late thirties, black hair and bluebell eyes, dressed in a dark charcoal suit.

The youngest of the boys seemed to be a couple years younger than her, shorter than her by a head, tanned skin, short black hair, and jade eyes. A scowl on his face partially hidden by the collar of a black peacoat and slacks as he sat on the arm chair.

A boy around her age with chin length black hair and azure eyes, a red hoodie under a grey bomber jacket and black pants. He looked like he hadn't slept in at least a week, and if how he was holding the travel mug in his hands it was probably true.

Next to him was another boy who looked a couple of years older, black messy hair about 5 cm at the longest and a white tuff in front, cerulean eyes, a brown leather jacket and distressed jeans. He seemed familiar but couldn't place it.

The last boy also had long black hair but seemed to be layered and shorter in the front, sky blue eyes, a blue varsity jacket and jeans. He would either be the eldest or second, he had a bright smile but kept shooting a glance at Fang.

Speaking of which once she was in the room and she saw him, he charged at her, knocking her over. Mari was giggling as Fang rolled over and she was lost to the world as she doted on the crocodile.

"Nettie" Penny finally managed to get her attention.

"Sorry," she stood "but if it wasn't done we wouldn't be able to talk. Hello I am Marinette Dupain-Cheng it is nice to meet you." again she smiled.

"Bruce Wayne" the man introduced himself, "and my sons. My youngest Damian." he gestured to the boy with green eyes. "Next is Tim" gesturing to the boy with the mug who rose it in acknowledgment. "Jason is the second oldest" the boy with the white tuff gave a lop sided smile. "And my eldest Dick" whose smile seemed to become brighter.

She smiled nodding at everyone before realization hit. A quick snap of her fingers before pulling out her phone, opened up her texts and started typing, ending with a quick picture of Jason.

I think I just met your idiot friend

She put away her phone. Not even a minute later another went off.

The ringing stopped once, twice, thrice, and on the fourth Jason, spoke up. "Sorry I should take this."

"Go ahead this can wait a moment." Mari smiled.

As soon as Jason answered the phone "What the hell are you doing in Paris!?" everyone heard the caller as Jason was holding the phone an arm length away.

"How did you know... you?!" it dawned on Jason.

"Guilty," she smiled. "I guess you're not as big of an idiot as Roy made you out to be."

"Hey!" Jason called before turning to the phone. "What the hell did you tell her Harper!" By now Roy was on speaker.

"You can't prove what I said, ya know," she could practically see Roy's smirk.

"Video's however," she was now smirking.

"What!!" Jason seemed to freeze.

"Bug! No!" Roy was sounding like he was going to start panicking.

"I think I have a few saved," she tapped her chin.

That was when Bruce cleared his throat. "As amusing as this is we have business to discuss."

"Talk to ya later Mari." Roy bid her farewell. "Oh and Jason don't underestimate her." the call ended.

"Okay so how do you know Roy?" Dick finally asked.

"Oh. It was at a charity ball hosted by Oliver Queen," she replied nonchalantly.

"Was it the same one where a baby elephant ended up at the event. Following you the whole time." Penny asked exasperated.

"I still don't get how you think we had anything to do with that." Marinette finally sat down. She ended up sitting on the ground leaning against the couch next to Jagged, Fang resting his head on her out stretched legs.

"I have so many questions,” Tim finally added to the conversation.

"Tt. can we stop beating around the bush already," Damian was irritated and it showed. "Are you or are you not my biological sister."

He seemed ready to pounce, unfortunately that was dangerous in Paris. Especially as she saw an akuma right outside the window. The question asked now forgotten as she focused on the corrupted butterfly.

"Nope, Nope. I am not dealing with an akuma today." she stood up. Took a deep breath and let her anger and frustrations to the surface. The smile fell from her face. "If you want a puppet have a marionette" Kwamii Adrien is rubbing off on me.

The butterfly changed targets and was heading towards her, finally gaining the other's attention. She vaulted over the couch and made a beeline to her backpack. By then the akuma was close so she tossed the backpack over to everyone and rolled out of the way.

"Glass jar, unscrew it" she called out.

"How pathetic running from a bug." Damian moved quickly to catch the butterfly but it moved and found something in his pocket. He was engulfed in purple and then he stood there in evergreen armor with golden accents. A red and yellow cape and a pitch black sword in his hand. Pocket knife, the sword is where the akuma is.

"Screw it" she turned and with two quick jabs his two arms went limp. A third knocked him to the ground.

She picked up the sword and went to Dick who was holding the jar. She took the jar, broke the sword, and went to catch the butterfly. As soon as she screwed the lid on the butterfly began to turn white.

She let out the breath she was holding as she compartmentalized her emotions yet again.

"What the fuck was that!" Jason screamed and so did Dick, minus the curse.

"Where and why do you have one of those," Jagged asked.

Finally Damian shouted "Why can I not move? What did you do?" he accused.

"Okay so the butterfly was an akuma used by Hawkmoth, Paris’ villain, to manipulate anyone with strong negative emotions. These champions or Akuma are used to attempt to retrieve magical jewels from our heroes. The jar was given to me and a few others in my class, because our class is a hot bed for akuma, by Ladybug, one of the heroes." she gave a short and simple run down. "As for Damian, those were a series of pressure points,” infused with magic to-take down people easily, "it should wear off in a few minutes."

"Teach me please!" Tim begged.

"I dunno." she started to chew her lip and shift her weight.

"Roy's warning now makes a lot more sense," Jason hummed.

"Tt. adequate," Damian muttered softly, Marinette is sure she is the only one who heard.

"Okay so where were we?" she smiled turning and sitting back down with Fang.

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @dolphin-ghost @unabashedbookworm @bookgirl14 @laurcad123 @mochegato @vixen-uchiha

#dc x miraculous #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #miraculous x dc #maribat #ml marinette #roynette #friend!adrien #bio!dad bruce #MLiOCAA

[prolix-yuy]

Chapter 5: They Destroyed the Man I Was

Pairing: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x F!Reader “Sugar”

Summary: He's only living the life he dreamed of.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: T, FEELINGS but that's about it, Jack in his element comes with a warning, will be E in later chapters so full series is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Notes: It's time to see Jack going about his life in this little town, and that includes another cameo by a Golden Circle character. I'm just forcibly taking that cast and giving them better lives because the directors sure as hell couldn't be bothered. Enjoy!

Cross-posted on AO3

Decoherence Masterlist   ||   Whiskey & Westworld Masterlist

You thought sleep would never come, swirling thoughts clamoring to the surface as soon as you crawled into bed, but the exhaustion pulled harder. Tumbling into mesmerizing dreams of landscapes that were only painted on large canvases, wiring and scientists watching through glass, you finally woke when one of the panes shattered under your touch. 

The symbolism of your dreams was only getting more ridiculous.

Michelle let you be yesterday, seeing your tear-stained face and pretending to be occupied in the kitchen. She did offer you a glass of whiskey later in the evening, when a walk didn’t prove fruitful for your restlessness. This morning, she’s treating you to “a stick-to-your-ribs” breakfast, complete with eggs, bacon, toast, and a strange puffed pancake she calls a dutch baby. It’s delicious, and indeed presses against your ribs as you fill up. 

“So what brings you here to our quiet corner of the world? I don’t get many strangers outside of the agricultural fair in the fall.” Michelle tops off your coffee, waiting expectantly as you try to stall by mixing your beverage the way you like it. When you catch her gaze again she’s looking at you kindly but expectantly.

“Visiting an old friend,” you say, hoping that will sate her curiosity. You should have known a community this small would take notice of your intrusion.

“The Strongs? Or the Moores? You one of their city friends?”

You smother a laugh. Between deciding to leave and getting on the plane, you hadn’t exactly packed for the occasion. Your outfit isn’t quite “city girl lost in a strange new world,” but it’s not as worn-in as her boots and faded denim.

“Jack, actually. Jack Daniels. He’s just…” you start to gesture, but Michelle’s eyes widen, putting the coffee pot down on a towel and squaring her hands on her hips.

“Well I’ll be damned. I didn’t think we’d see the day but here you are!” Your face must radiate confusion, because Michelle drops into the seat across from you, hands tented under her chin. “Jack’s a private man, but he’s told us enough of his story to know a few things, and the topic of his heart was always ripe gossip.”

Skin beginning to tighten, you drop your hands in your lap and try to think of an excuse to leave. There’s a danger you’re tiptoeing up to and you desperately want to run from it. The best you can manage is a strained, “Oh?”

Right on cue, Michelle’s hospitality kicks in and she squeezes your arm across the table.

“Oh damn my mouth, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to make you self-conscious. We don’t get new people often, especially those who stay, and a handsome country boy rolls in? We all had questions, and some finally pestered a few answers out of him.” Michelle leans forward folding her hands on the floral tablecloth. “I’m guessing you’re the one he’s been waiting for.”

“I don’t know what…” you begin, but Michelle doesn’t really need your input to continue this conversation. Which is perfect because you have no idea what to say.

“Few of the young girls, and some of the lonely and divorced, sniffed around Jack when he bought his ranch. Attractive man, no family in tow, kind and helpful. If I weren’t happily married I’d have tried my luck too.” Her conspiratorial smile does relax your shoulders, though the image of Jack surrounded by eligible, beautiful women flips your stomach. “But he always turned them down. Nicely, but firmly. Wasn’t until Mary at the Fairweather got a few drinks in him that the story came out.”

His past comes to mind unbidden. A wife lost, child never known, a life driven to revenge and anger. At least that’s the history Delos gave him.

“He said there was a woman he fell for, thought she felt the same. Classic wrong place, wrong time. Always said he was waiting for her to let him try again. It was romantic, even if it frustrated most of the female population.” Michelle cups her chin and sighs, fixing you with a soft gaze. “He’s been happier lately, taking trips away and coming back excited. I thought maybe it was work, but I hoped it was love.” 

Your story. He gave them your story with Jack. And one of many questions still needing answers - how long has he known how to find you? - clatters in your silent throat.

“The last few weeks he’s been anxious, always checking his phone. Waiting for something. And I guess we know why!” She slaps the table with merriment scrunching her face. You put up your hands placatingly.

“I don’t know if it’s really all that,” you say, but Michelle shushes you. 

“Of course it is. Don’t worry, I won’t spread it around. The two of you must have a lot of catching up to do.” Her eyes flit to the front hall, a bell tinkling at the edge of your hearing. Heavy boots approach, and even before you turn you know who it must be.

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear!” Michelle calls, standing to greet Jack. 

“I’ve hardly been tempting you to sin, ma’am,” Jack drawls as you turn to see him enter. He’s in a heather gray button-up today, the heavy denim jacket complementing his broad shoulders. Hat in hand, the other holds a stack of two dozen eggs that Michelle takes gratefully.

“I just finished the blanket, it’s on the chaise in the living room.” She goes to reach into her pocket when Jack shakes his head.

“The blanket is payment enough, Shelly, you’ve been slaving over it for too long. Those’re a down payment, I’ll bring the rest next week.”

The exchange tingles your body with a sentimentality that you can barely explain. A town that still gives gifts and barters in a time when everything is transactional? You fix your eyes on the little bit of breakfast still lingering on your plate.

“Thank you for taking such good care of my friend too,” he says, finally acknowledging your presence. When you turn your face up to look at him the shyness in his smile heats your cheeks. 

“Michelle has been an excellent host,” you agree, getting another dismissive wave.

“We’re friends now, sweetie, I’m Shelly to you. I’ll leave you to it.” Waving as she takes her eggs into the kitchen, you and Jack are left alone in the ample dining room. He shifts, hat between his hands as you try to find something to say.

“Sorry for bursting in like this, I figured you were here. Not many other places to stay in town.”

You nod with a bright smile, easier today than yesterday.

“Shelly was just telling me all the gossip. Seems like you’re quite the heartbreaker.”

Jack groans as you get to your feet, the space between you still tenuous. “I hope nothing too embarrassing. She’s a heck of a town collector, specializing in secrets.” He leads you towards the door, softer, slower steps as you follow.

“Apparently you have quite a fan club,” you tease, pulling a chuckle from Jack’s lips. It makes your heart clench, hearing it again. 

“Apparently, keeping to myself is dark and mysterious to the imaginative.”

Jack holds the door open for you as you step onto Shelly’s front porch, warm sunshine peeking through delicate clouds. Patterns dapple the asphalt as you walk side by side into the main part of town. After visiting his home you thought the town might be Sweetwater 2.0, but it’s charmingly modern. A main road stuffed with shops, doors open to let the soft breezes in. A public garden, blooms fat and heavy on the branches ready to burst. The towering steeple of a church, the squat columns of a library, Christmas lights still wound around streetlights. Like taking off a snow-caked winter coat, your spirits lighten with each step until your hand itches to find its way into Jack’s palm, consequence be damned. 

“First stop is the Unwin’s shop, my truck’s parked outside,” Jack says, interrupting his soothing descriptions of each storefront and landmark. You’d lost the thread of his conversation two blocks back but nodded as he led you into a general store. He reaches up in the doorway and taps an archaic brass bell hanging over your heads. 

“Right on time, Daniels,” a male voice with a Cockney accent calls, the owner climbing down a beat-up ladder. The men slap shoulders as the ringing fades. “Got comp’ny?” the man asks, turning to hold out his hand to you. He’s got a million-watt smile and a sharply angled face, light brown hair swept back from his forehead. Brown eyes that seem to have perpetual mirth in their depths sparkle behind thick-rimmed glasses. He’s lankier than Jack but all muscle under a white henley and canvas apron. “Gary Unwin, proprietor of this fine establishment.” You shake his hand and tell him your name, faltering when he holds it for a moment longer.

“Jack never graces me with beautiful lady friends. Got quite the poor record with them, ain’tcha Jack, never could close the deal.” Gary straightens and gives you a once over, and where you might feel offended instead the swaggerish nature of this interaction is outlandish enough that you glean it as good-natured ribbing.

“Knock it off, hotshot,” Jack warns, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up at his firm command. Gary’s eyebrows shoot up, turning to retort, but suddenly snaps back to you with a knowing smile.

“Oh, you’re his girl then?” he says, hands on his hips and backing up a step. You mustn’t have schooled your face well enough, because Gary’s smile drops as he turns back. Jack is the picture of embarrassment, busying himself with something in the dried goods aisle. When Gary whips around his smile is full of wonder.

“Oh you’re his girl. The girl,” he says, leaning back against the shop counter. Your eyes dart to Jack for help but he’s standing between two shelves, looking intently at something of interest.

“Didn’t expect such a warm welcome, but I’m thankful for it,” you say, resisting the itching feeling of invisible eyes all over you. 

“You haven’t had a warm welcome until you’ve met my wife. Tilde!” Gary shouts over his shoulder, closing up the ladder and setting it to the side. A scuffle of footsteps and a rosy-cheeked blonde woman peeks out from the back of the shop.

“Hello!” she calls, coming to stand beside Gary. “I’m…” she starts when Gary interrupts her.

“She’s the girl,” he says, giddily nodding in Jack’s direction. His gaze doesn’t lift from its spot, and something pings in your mind at it.

“She’s the…?” Tilde asks, then seeing Jack her face springs into surprise. “You’re the girl!”

“She’s the girl.”

“I’m the girl,” you interject, making a small wave and suppressing a grimace. 

“Oh you must think we’re the nosiest bunch outside a herd of anteaters.” Tilde swats Gary, who shoots her a hurt look. You plead silently with Jack to come to your side, but he’s honed on the shelf, sharp, focused. 

“I swear Jack hasn’t been running around airing all his laundry, we basically dragged it out of him,” Tilde continues, but your eyes are locked on Jack. His face is flushing, one hand gripping the shelf so tight his knuckles are white. Panic flares like a lit match in your chest.

“Jack?” you ask to no response. Gary and Tilde look over their shoulders and snap into action, Gary hurrying to Jack’s side and leading him away from his spot. Tilde yanks a chair from a cafe table and places it beside Jack, Gary urging him to sit. You’re frozen on the spot, heart hammering and your ears ringing until all you can hear is the thin wail of fear.

“Jack, c’mon bruv, sit down,” Gary soothes, Tilde hovering as Jack blinks slow, hard. Numbly you rush to him, gripping his biceps as he struggles. Finally his hands close around your shoulders as a whoosh of air fills his lungs. 

“There we go, we got you,” Gary reassures as Jack slumps into the chair, sucking in slow breaths. You drop to your knees with him, studying his pained face. He manages to get his breathing under control as Tilde hurries to the back. Water runs as you slide your hands down to hold one of his. 

“M’good,” Jack mutters, leaning forward to cup the back of your head. It’s just you and him now, Gary and Tilde a distant afterthought even as Tilde places a cool towel on the back of Jack’s neck. His thumb caresses your cheek, the brim of his hat shading your face. When he opens his eyes there’s exhaustion, but also relief. 

“Sorry for the scare, Sugar,” he rasps. You worry your own thumb in the palm of his hand, reassuring pressure. 

“S’okay, I’m here,” you say. Jack’s face is still a little pink, but you swear the bitten-back smile is all your doing.

You sit on the porch with Tilde as Gary helps Jack load a couple boxes into his truck. Jack rolls his eyes when Gary calls him an old man and refuses to let Jack carry anything, but you catch the mild concern in Gary’s brows, the gentle redirection of hands. Jack huffs but allows the other man to take the lead. Tilde offers you a glass of iced tea, sweetened to perfection.

“Has that happened before?” you murmur as Jack’s shirt pulls across his shoulders. The heat has started to beat down, sweat gathering along your hairline and glistening on Jack’s chest. He unbuttons his shirt one further, treating you to a tantalizing view of his chest.

“He has spells sometimes. Told us he was taking care of it, that he saw a doctor about it.”

What kind of doctor would that be, Jack?

“Some kind of seizure, he said. It’s not often, but we’ve caught him a couple times before. He tells us he’s fine, and we mind our business about it.”

Jack pats Gary on the back as they talk, leaning against his truck tailgate. You trace the curve of his relaxed smile, the expressive lilt of his brows, how perfectly he fits into this landscape so much like his home but leagues freer.

“You’re good friends to him,” you say, smiling at the sunny woman. She returns it, her whole face crinkling genuinely. 

“He’s easy to love. It’s like the world gave him all the gifts but all he does is share them with others. You know that,” she says, tilting her head with a knowing wink. 

“We didn’t get much time together when we first met. I still feel like there’s so much to learn about Jack,” you muse, watching the boys finish their conversation. Jack checks on you over his shoulder, eyes lighting up every time.

“You could take seven lifetimes and never learn everything about a person,” Tilde says, pushing her rocker to sway. “That’s where trust, and patience, and love comes in. Fills in the gaps.”

Gary clomps up the steps, accepting Tilde’s outstretched tea with a large gulp. She trails her fingers over his arm and they share a look that speaks whole sentences. Jack follows cautiously, nodding to you. 

“Ready to go, Sugar?” 

You don’t correct him this time.

The slam of the truck doors precedes a silence you expect. Jack’s hands dance along the wheel, keys in the ignition dangling unattended.

“I’m sorry about…”

“What was that back there?”

You speak at the same time, your resolve canceling out his apology. 

“It wasn’t a seizure, not in the way they think it is. So what are these little spells? Is something…going wrong?” You think malfunctioning but the longer Jack stays by your side, the harder it is for you to imagine him as a machine. He sighs, rubbing his mouth and smoothing back errant mustache whiskers.

“There are other people like me out in your world. Maeve, probably a few still under Delos’ control. But there are some that are awake, and they’re angry, and they’re trying to find anyone they can to help them do God knows what for revenge.” Jack’s eyes plead, grip tightening on the wheel. “That’s not me, Sugar. All I wanted was to get free and stay that way. But we’re all connected, and sometimes one of the others reaches out, tries to figure out who I am, where I am. To what end I don’t know, and I don’t want to. I’ve done a good job keeping them away, but sometimes they try harder, and I have to fight them off.”

You swallow hard, suddenly small in a world that’s full of unseen struggles. 

“So Delos is looking for you, and…I guess rogue hosts are looking for you.” Your next question sticks in your throat, Jack’s eyebrows raised expectantly. “Why come looking for me?”

His mouth opens, and you see the answer written on his tongue, but he swallows it back. Instead he starts the truck, tossing an arm over the back of your seat to reverse. Inhaling the sun-baked warmth of his jacket, shot through with dust and sweet hay, you let your question drift away on the wind.

“I’m sorry about all the attention. Made one slip-up and the whole town knows, apparently.” He parks closer to the center of town, keys jingling as he puts it in park. “If you’d like to stay in the truck and avoid repeating that conversation four more times, I’ll only be a few minutes.”

“Sure, I gotta call Lacey anyways,” you agree, watching Jack swing out of the truck and shut the door behind. In the faux privacy of the truck you let yourself admire his swaying shoulders, the swagger of his walk, that tight ass peeking out from under his jacket.

It’s the first time something carnal has stirred in your chest (and elsewhere) since you’d accepted Jack’s return. Dashing it away, you dial Lacey.

“Not dead?” is her first question, making you laugh louder than necessary.

“Definitely, calling from beyond the grave,” you shoot back.

“Fuck, I knew ghosts were real.”

You share a giggle before Lacey bursts into questioning. Is he handsome? Polite? Not a creep? Did you stay over last night? What have you been doing? You answer rapid-fire - yes, yes, no, no, mostly talking - before she gets to the meat of the matter.

“So is this the real deal?”

You watch Jack as he moves from store to store, picking up paper-wrapped bundles and crisp bags. Every person’s face lights up when he’s in the room, and more time is spent chatting than running errands. It would take twice as long with you by his side. The girl. 

“I’m still figuring it out. There’s definitely potential. It’s just…” You falter, sinking lower in the seat as your stomach clenches. Lacey tuts into the phone.

“It’s just that his cock is too big, right? He only makes you cum three times, not five?” she fake sighs on the other end. You both dissolve into giggles, lolling your head back on the seat. 

“Leap of faith, babe. You made it this far. Don’t leave without knowing if this will work,” she says, another sage piece of advice doled out on a hot Saturday morning. 

“Love you Lace,” you say. A smacking lip sound follows.

“Love you too. Make good choices.”

Rolling your eyes, you hang up just as Jack climbs back in the truck.

“That Lacey?” he asks, turning the key and bringing the truck back to life. Weak air conditioner pummels your face, but you’ll take it. 

“Yeah, just checking in.”

“How’s she doing? Married?” he asks, startling a smile onto your face.

“Yeah, all good. You remember her?” 

Jack tosses you a wink.

“Whole reason I met you, after all. Hard to forget.” 

You settle back in the seat, another warmth seeping into your bones.

PREVIOUS || NEXT

#jack whiskey daniels x reader #jack daniels x reader #jack whiskey daniels x f!reader #jack whiskey daniels x you #jack daniels x you #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x female reader #jack daniels x female reader #kingsman the golden circle fanfiction #westworld fanfiction #prolix fics

[joonie-beanie]

Missing Ingredient

Pairing: Solomon x Reader

Word Count: 5,467

Preview: Solomon needs help obtaining some "nectar" for a spell he wants to try, and asks you for your assistance.

Unbeknownst to you, the so-called nectar he needs isn't from a flower at all.

This chapter is also being posted as a part of my “Devil Doms” series on AO3.

I wrote this after getting inspired by one of @/shokujin-art’s pieces with Solomon and their MC Ethan!

WARNING: This chapter can be considered dub-con. If dubious consent makes you uncomfortable, please do not read.

“I need your help.”

The smile on Solomon’s face is a little disconcerting. After all, usually it’s not he who is asking you for help, but…you decide to hear him out.

“With what?”

Your gaze is openly skeptical as you regard him, but his smile doesn’t waver.

“I need nectar for a spell I’ve been wanting to test out for a while. I was wondering if you could help me in that regard.”

You blink at him, confused. Nectar? How the hell are you supposed help with that? It’s not like you’re an expert with flowers, and you certainly have no idea about flowers that reside in the Devildom.

“You…want me to help you find…nectar?”

He nods, bringing a hand up to his chin—his eyes turning towards the ceiling.

“Well…basically, yes.”

You narrow your gaze at his phrasing, concern growing by the moment. Exactly what the hell is Solomon playing at? You know he’s a bit of a sketchy bastard, and sometimes you feel like he can’t be trusted, but…so far, he hasn’t wronged you.

…that counts for something, right?

“Listen,” you say, poking a finger into his chest. His eyes widen at the action, and he pauses—staring at you as you continue to jab him. “I’ll help you, okay? But I better not be harmed on this journey to achieve whatever “nectar” you need. Got it, wizard boy?”

Solomon rolls his eyes at your nickname—catching your finger when you move to press your nail into his chest once more.

“You won’t experience any pain,” he says, laughing quietly. His eyes crease, a handsome smile lighting up his face, and for a second, you forget about your worries.

“I promise.”

The next weekend, you get a text from Solomon demanding that you come over to Purgatory Hall.

Today is the day—he needs your help with his nectar issue—and so, you pack up your bag and head over.

You’d attempted to ask him what retrieving this nectar would entail. After all, did you need to dress in hiking boots?? Would he be taking you out into the Devildom wilderness to try and find some rare, valuable flower?? But Solomon had refused to reveal any details.

He’d simply explained that it may take a few hours, and that you should just bring yourself, and any basic necessities.

So now, here you are—standing on the step to Purgatory Hall—waiting for Solomon to come and let you in. It takes a few minutes, but eventually the grand wooden door is pulled open.

“Took you long enough,” you mumble as he ushers you inside. The sorcerer can only laugh, keeping pace beside you as the two of you traverse the halls—heading towards his room.

“Sorry,” he says. His hand moves to wipe at his brow. You notice the tiny beads of sweat sticking to his skin, and curiosity fills you. “I was preparing.”

“Preparing for what?”

Again, Solomon reveals nothing. He easily laughs off the seriousness of your question, waving a hand in front of him as if to try and dissipate any of your worries.

“Preparing to retrieve the nectar,” he responds after a moment, flashing you a small smile. “I’ve been trying to gather the ingredients for this spell for many, many years, and this is the last, and hardest one to collect.”

“And…you need my help in particular with this…why?”

Your eyebrows are knit together on your forehead, and you’re sure that Solomon notices your trepidation, yet he chooses not to address it. Instead, he continues a few more strides up the hall before stopping.

You’ve already arrived at his room.

He reaches out to grab the doorknob, his silver eyes darkening playfully as he regards you. The subtle shift in his demeanor has butterflies tickling the inside of your stomach, and you swallow nervously.

While you’re not as magically inclined as Solomon, you can still feel the magic leaking from inside of his room. He obviously has something planned for you once you step inside, but you’re not sure what.

“…you promised you wouldn’t hurt me,” you remind him, pouting angrily—attempting to hide your apprehension. Your words have Solomon rolling his eyes, and he releases the door knob.

Standing straight, he jerks two of his fingers towards you, and suddenly a golden magic circle encases one of your wrists.

Your eyes widen in surprise, but before you can think to say anything, he’s making another motion with his hand. Quickly, the magic circle tugs you forward, and within seconds, you find yourself directly in front of Solomon.

His previously kind smile is now replaced with something more akin to an amused grin.

“I gave you my word, didn’t I?” he asks, free hand moving to gently brush a few stray hairs from your face. The gesture contradicts his current attitude, making you feel torn. Anxiety and excitement mingle in your gut—both turned on and concerned by your predicament.

“You did, but you’re kind of a bastard, so I want you to reassure me…,” you mumble, cheeks heating up as you stare at him.

This isn’t exactly the first time Solomon has used his magic to fluster you. No, many times now he has casually used spells to fuck with you—making you more sensitive to the touch, or creating a brief gust of wind to flip your skirt up while at RAD. It has kind of become your thing—picking on each other, with Solomon bridging into sexual territory every so often.

Actually...you’d made out with him a few weeks prior—both of you slightly intoxicated, and drawn in by the club music at The Fall—but it had never gone beyond kissing, and groping. Despite that, the sexual energy between the two of you had been palpable.

Yet, nothing had come of it. You’d mutually parted—preserved your friendship—and gone your separate ways that night. You’d assumed that Solomon simply wasn’t interested in doing those kinds of things with you—that any playfully sexual advances towards you were done in the spirit of friendship. Which you were okay with.

But…now that you’re standing here—hair risen all across your body at the magic leaking from his room—you know that he has big plans. And judging by the glint in his eyes, and the way his thumb is carefully caressing your cheek—you’ll certainly be in for a treat.

“When you step beyond the threshold of this door, no harm will come to you,” he speaks calmly, dipping down to press a soft kiss to your lips. Almost instantly, you’re melting into him—heart hammering against your ribs as your defenses are so easily torn away.

“Do you trust me?”

You nod, and his fingers leave your face. You hear the doorknob turn.

“I shouldn’t, but I do.”

He laughs at that, and in the next beat, he’s pulling you inside.

His room is just like you remember it—spacious, and dark. His desk is littered with an army of ingredients, and spell books. His bed is nicely made, and there’s a single, leather armchair tucked into the corner of the room, near the fireplace.

The only thing out of the ordinary is the golden blob of magic sitting in the center of the room. There’s an intricately drawn circle of chalk surrounding it—many runes, and foreign words tied into the dormant spell.

“I’m beginning to think that this “nectar” you need isn’t exactly from a flower…,” you mumble, sending him a little look when he once again uses the magic circle around your wrist to force you farther into his room. Solomon only smiles, guiding you forward until you’re standing inside the chalk ring—the blob of magic at your feet.

“To be honest, for the longest time I thought I was searching for a rare flower,” he says, sighing as he recalls his strife. His footsteps echo throughout the silent room as he scoots arounds the circle, shaking his head in disappointment. “This is a spell I found in an ancient text, and the words were quite hard to decipher. At some point, I picked out the word “nectar”, but figuring out what kind of nectar took far too long.”

As he speaks, you feel the spell at your feet start to buzz to life. And when your gaze flickers to the floor, you note that the blob of magic is starting to…move?

With each passing second, as the spell activates, the ball of golden magic expands and contracts—bulging here or there. You’re forced to divide your attention between Solomon—who is now standing in front of the leather chair—and the magic at your feet (which looks ready to explode).

“Solomon…,” you speak nervously, gasping when a second magic circle suddenly encases your free wrist. You turn to look at the sorcerer just as he jerks his fingers towards the ceiling—forcing your arms high above your head, where the spinning circles then merge into a single, larger one.

“H-Hey! You still haven’t told me what the hell is going on!” you stutter, feeling warmth on your cheeks as you realize your current state of vulnerability. With your hands bound like this, there’s no way you can escape whatever Solomon has planned.

“And yet, you still look like you’re enjoying this,” he teases you. You attempt to glare at him, but there’s no real power behind it, considering he’s right.

“Bastard…”

Solomon laughs at that, and he steps into the chalk circle without warning. His hands find your waist, and he kisses you without an ounce of hesitation. His lips are firm, and warm—moving against your own languidly, like he’s got all the time in the world.

The show of intimacy successfully distracts you from the ball of magic at your feet. Well…at least until the energy takes a new form—multiple, long limbs of magic shooting out, and wrapping around you.

“Mmph!” you squeal around his tongue, rearing back in shock. You look down, wriggling as the warm tendrils of magic climb your body. One is already hugging your waist—replacing the feel of Solomon’s hands as the wizard takes a step back—watching everything unfold with a self-satisfied grin spreading across his lips.

“Basically,” he speaks, calm as ever—as if you aren’t being molested by magic. His magic. “I finally figured out that the “nectar” I’ve been searching for is the arousal of a human. The product of their pleasure.”

His words have you feeling even hotter—an embarrassing gasp leaving you as one of the tendrils wraps around your thigh, and wiggles against your clothed sex.

“Really, of course I finally figured it out once I’m here in the Devildom.” He shakes his head, crossing his arms disappointedly. You bite your lip, trying to stifle another lewd sound as the tendril around your waist curls up between your breasts.

From what you can tell, there are 2…well, tentacles of magic in total—with one occupying your legs, and the other busying itself with your torso.

“I-If you need human arousal, why not use your own?” you ask him, already quite breathless. The sound makes Solomon’s eyes sparkle.

“What? You think I want to sit around and jerk into a cup for god knows how long?” he laughs, eyes raking down your body. His gaze stops near your hips, and he makes a motion with his hand. In response, the tentacle currently rubbing softly against your pussy pulls away—hooking under the waistband of your pants.

In one swift motion, it tugs the garment down your legs, and discards it onto the floor. You flush hottly, pressing your thighs together in an attempt to preserve a sliver of modesty—but the tendril of magic easily slips its way between your legs, once again rubbing against your pelvis.

“And besides, this route seemed much more fun.” He smiles cheekily, a dark sort of amusement lingering in his silver gaze. “I always pegged you as the type to enjoy a situation like this anyway. You know, a damsel in distress with a bit of kink and sex thrown in.”

You send him another look, but can’t say anything. Because…he’s not necessarily wrong. You can’t deny his words, nor can your body deny its reaction to your current predicament. Each pass of the magic between your legs or against your breasts has arousal pooling in your gut.

“Of course, if I’m wrong, just tell me, and I’ll stop.”

Despite the teasing look on his face, his words are genuine. He won’t do anything you’re not okay with. Even if he needs the ingredient for his spell, it seems he’s not entirely an asshole. At least, not to you.

“N…no…I’m okay with this,” you admit meekly, causing him to smile. “But…how are you retrieving the… um…”

You’re too shy to say it, now, realizing what the nectar actually is.

“Well, I did mention that all of this took time to prepare,” he responds, allowing the tendrils of his magic to continue roaming your body freely. It seems like he’s able to control them when he wants, but otherwise, they’ll continue working towards their goal on their own.

“Since I was able to get you to agree to help me out—”

“Without telling me what would actually be involved.”

He sends you a look—a little annoyed at being interrupted despite so kindly answering all of your questions.

“Oh I’m sorry—,” he makes a motion with his hand, and suddenly the tentacle around your chest is tearing your shirt away with a definitive rip. In the same beat, the tentacle between your legs slips beneath the crotch of your panties—tugging them off your body.

Somehow, it manages to discard the garment near Solomon’s feet, so he bends down and picks up the cotton fabric with a smile—the large spot of arousal hard to miss, even in the dim light of his room.

“—but do you really have the right to be sassing me about my ethics, when you’re already wet enough to stain your panties? Clearly, you’re turned on despite me not telling you, love.”

You open your mouth to attempt to defend your pride, but the only sound that comes out is a lewd gasp. The smooth magic between your thighs resumes its motions—now rubbing up against your wet pussy with no barrier. The contact makes you ache—your clit already so sensitive to the touch—and a satisfied grin settles on Solomon’s face.

“As I was saying,” he continues with his explanation calmly, but his gaze doesn’t leave the sight of you. With your panties gone, and your shirt in tatters on the floor, the sorcerer would be a fool to not watch the show unraveling in front of him.

“It took time to prepare. I had to figure out what would be the best way to retrieve the nectar without letting it go to waste. After all, sex can be so messy.”

Solomon pauses for a moment, soaking in the sound of your voice as you whine—your body flushed from head to toe as the thick tentacles of his magic keep their pace, rubbing against you in all the right places.

His slacks are beginning to feel a little tight.

He coughs.

“Basically, the raw magic will absorb your “nectar”, and will keep it trapped until I can draw it out.”

“S-So what?” you whimper, fingers helplessly curling and uncurling above you. His magic circle allows your wrists no wiggle room. “Y-You’re just going to sit here and watch your magic molest me until you’ve collected enough of my arousal for your spell?”

“Molest is a strong word,” Solomon says, seating himself in the leather chair. He leans back, letting his legs spread wide, and your eyes fall to the tent in his pants. “I prefer fondle. Or, pleasure. After all, you’re feeling a fair amount of pleasure right now, aren’t you?”

With a small inclination of his fingers, the tentacle between your legs pulls back—the thick, rounded tip pressing directly against your clit. It moves in miniscule side to side motions, and Solomon sees the way your entire body flexes—thighs shaking with each pass over your bundle of nerves.

“Fuck,” you pant, arms straining against their bindings. The wizard chuckles.

“Shall I make you cum like this? Or would you prefer to wait? Personally, I have no qualms making you orgasm until you’re begging me to stop, but I also don’t want to break you. You’d be a pain to put back together.”

“Asshole,” you remark.

With the tentacle still swiping across your clit, you know it won’t be long until you reach your climax. And while you know cumming will only serve to make everything more sensitive afterwards, you can’t bring yourself to pass up the offer of an orgasm. You’re already too close, and your body is begging for a release.

“I…I want to cum. Please.”

“Look at you, saying “please” even though you’re calling me an asshole.”

You so desperately wish he was within kicking range, because if he was, you would absolutely lift your leg and wipe that cocky grin straight off his face.

Luckily, the magic between your legs quickly distracts you from your anger towards the sorcerer. 

As if hearing your plea to cum, it begins to work even faster—searching for the pattern that will undoubtedly drag you into the depths of your pleasure. And once it finds it—lewd gasps and moans falling from your lips—the tentacle keeps at it until you’re tumbling into your release.

Sensing your orgasm, the magic limb presses up against your pelvis. It slots between your folds, rubbing languidly as you experience your high.

You can only guess that it’s currently collecting all of the precious “nectar” that has leaked from your throbbing pussy following your climax.

“Shit…”

Apparently willing to give you a moment to breath, the magic tendril occupying your sex continues its slow motions. In its place, the tentacle that had been lazily fondling your chest until now gets to work. It fully wraps around both of your breasts—squeezing, and tugging—almost as if it’s attempting to milk you.

Your eyes flutter shut at the sensation—quiet, hot breaths filling the space in front of you as the tailend of your orgasm finally passes. Yet, you can still feel the embers burning in your gut, threatening to reignite with any simple touch.

“Feel good?” Solomon questions, drawing you out of your haze. Your eyes fall to him, heart thundering in your chest when you notice that one of his hands has strayed beneath his trousers—fingers enclosed around his length through the fabric of his underwear.

“Perverted wizard,” you speak instead, completely ignoring his question. The smallest of grins grace your lips, a breathy laugh leaving you. “Getting so hard from watching me. Shouldn’t you be ashamed?”

He chuckles at your words, looking amused by your wit.

Truly, you’re a fool to be speaking to him like that, as if he isn’t the one in charge right now. While he’s been kind to you thus far, he has no issue in changing that.

“Be a good cock slut and shut the hell up.”

He flicks his fingers, a fake smile plastered on his face, and in the next moment your pussy is filled to the brim with his magic. The tentacle reaches deep—snaking between your walls until the soft head is pressed flush against your cervix.

The abrupt intrusion has you crying out, wrists once again straining against their bindings as you struggle to adjust to the new sensation. And yet, Solomon grants you no grace period.

The magic begins to move—sliding in and out of your wet walls at a swift pace that has your mouth opening, but no sound coming out. At the same time, the tentacle at your chest squeezes harder, the tip of the appendage moving to swirl around one of your hardened nipples.

“S-Solomon,” you choke out, knees buckling under the intensity of his magic. The way his name sounds falling from your lips—desperate and overwhelmed—has his cock jumping against its confines.

His jaw clenches, fingers squeezing a bit tighter as he strokes himself.

“I’d slow their pace down, but I can hear how wet you are from here,” he remarks, silver gaze falling to the space between your thighs. As the tentacle grinds inside of you, small amounts of your arousal are soaked up by his magic. As they’re absorbed, the liquid pools in the main body of the magic—the blob still resting at the center of the chalk circle which is keeping his spell active.

“I called you a cock slut teasingly, but it seems you actually are one. How precious.”

“Fuck off,” you pant, body writhing as the embers in your gut quickly reignite into flames—hot, intense, and growing with each second that passes.

He laughs at your exclamation, pressing to his feet. With deft fingers, Solomon quickly rids himself of his pants, and underwear—the pieces of clothing lying abandoned on the floor beside your own. And when he moves forward—once again entering the magic circle, and stepping into your personal space—you feel your heart skip a beat.

Your pussy clenches around the tentacle still working inside of you, nervous butterflies blooming in your tummy when you see the dark look in Solomon’s eyes. Like he’s finally giving you a glimpse of the real him—not the kind façade he always shows in front of the others.

“If you’re going to use your mouth in such a vulgar fashion, I know a better way.”

Suddenly, without warning, the magic circle encasing your wrists presses downward—forcing you to your knees. The tentacles adjust accordingly, but continue their ministrations as normal. The new position, however, has you eye-level with Solomon’s weeping cock.

“Say ah,” he says, canting his hips forward. The tip of his length smears against your hot cheek, and you flit your gaze up to him—aroused, and a little scared.

He’d be lying if he said the fear didn’t turn him on.

“No?” Solomon tangles a hand in your hair—firm, but not enough to hurt. He holds your stare, his eyes expectant. Yet, he doesn’t force himself upon you. After all, he gave you his word that he wouldn’t hurt you, and while right now he would love nothing more than to stuff your mouth with his cock, he won’t if it’s pushing you too far.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves (although it’s not easy to do, considering the two tentacles that are still very bent on pleasuring you for the sake of your “nectar”). Then—

You part your lips, hot breath fanning against his length.

“Aaah—”

Solomon looks genuinely surprised for a moment. However, he definitely won’t be wasting such a perfect opportunity.

“Truly a cock slut,” he says by way of praise—sliding his cock into your mouth before you can even think of responding.

The moment he hits the back of your throat—making you gag—you realize what you’re in for. There’s no way you’re making it out of this situation sane. Not with Solomon fucking your mouth, while his magic devastates your pussy, and fondles your chest.

In contrast to the quick, brutal pace the tentacle currently occupied with your sex has taken, Solomon starts off slowly. He rocks himself into your mouth, his silver eyes focused on you as your lips suction around him. Each time, he ventures deep—his cock sliding into you until you can take no more.

Tears blot your eyes, body tensing as you resist the urge to gag around him once again. Solomon notices your struggle—watching the way your fingers curl into fists. A part of him debates being nicer. You’re already struggling thanks to the ministrations of his magic, after all, and yet—

“You like it rough, don’t you?”

He reaffirms his grip on your hair—holding your head steady as he begins rolling his hips. He’s still not as fast as the tentacle devastating your pussy, but his slow pace is no more. No, he fucks you quick enough that you don’t have time to steel yourself for the sensation of his cock hitting the back of your throat.

So now, along with the wet, slapping sounds already filling the room, your frequent, helpless gagging can be heard as well.

To Solomon, it’s music to his ears.

“I don’t need you to tell me “yes”. I can already see the answer with how much of your arousal my magic is collecting,” he says, breathing a laugh. “Seriously, you’re the one that should be ashamed, Y/N. You stand there and tease me for getting hard, but you’re the one positively leaking right now. Do you want to be even more stuffed? I could create a third tentacle if you like.”

“Nn—,” you attempt to shake your head, tears finally rolling down your cheeks. You already feel like you’re going insane. There’s no way you’d be able to handle anything more than this.

Solomon grins at your response, purposely grinding into your mouth, and holding himself there. He watches as you flounder—body writhing against the bindings at your wrists. 

Even as you struggle to breathe, you can feel the orgasm building inside of you.

You choke down a sob.

Solomon’s magic is relentless. You have no idea how long it’s been—how long the tentacles have been teasing you—have been trying to milk you for all that you’re worth—but it’s been long enough to bring you to the edge once more. And each time Solomon forces you to gag around him, you only inch closer.

“Mmph,” you whine pathetically around him, your body shaking as your pleasure continues to build to a peak. It won’t be long until you’re sent tumbling over the edge a second time, and once that happens, you’re not sure how much more you’ll be able to take. Your brain already feels like it’s on the verge of short-circuiting.

“This is a good look on you—,” he comments. Sweat has beaded on his brow—stray strands of his hair sticking to his forehead, and you’re mad that he still manages to appear so handsome despite his disheveled state.

“—ruined, and on the brink of orgasm. You’re going to cum again, right?”

Your noise of admission is lost around his cock as he continues fucking into your mouth. However, he doesn’t need to hear your agreement. He can already tell—what, with the way your eyes are practically ready to roll back into your head.

“You should wait for me,” he says, amusement tugging at his lips when he feels you whimper. “Can you manage that?”

Without waiting for your muffled attempt at a response, Solomon thrusts become rougher. He fucks into your throat, groaning at the way you instinctively gag and swallow around him. Saliva pools at the corners of your lips—slipping down to your chin and mingling with the tears that have fallen from your eyes.

You’re so overwhelmed. You’ve never experienced so many sensations at once, and while you try your best to hold out for Solomon—to be good, and wait for him like he’s requested—you can’t. It’s impossible.

With a strangled cry, you come undone. Your body thrashes, your head naturally attempting to pull away from Solomon for much needed air, but he doesn’t let you go anywhere.

“Ah, if only you had waited a little longer,” he remarks, disappointment in his tone. He lowers his other hand to grab your head, and more tears pour down your cheeks as he face fucks you to his heart’s content—even as your orgasm continues to roll through you.

Luckily, the sorcerer isn’t very far behind. He finds his release just as your orgasm is beginning to subside, the tentacles that are assaulting you finally beginning to slow their ruthless pace. 

Gripping your hair, he forces himself deep into your throat—a dark satisfaction settling in his gut as he watches you choke on his seed.

“Swallow like a good girl,” he chides, one of his hands moving to wipe away your tears. As best you can, you swallow around him—puffy eyes turning up to him. The pleading look on your face successfully softens his heart, and with a sigh, he releases your head.

Immediately, you’re pulling back—coughing and gasping for air.

“P-Please, I can’t…anymore…,” you beg, voice raw. The tentacles have started picking up their pace once again--ready to resume their duty after having given you a few minutes to rest.

Solomon clicks his tongue, his silver gaze dropping to the mass of magic on the floor. There’s a fair amount of your “nectar” that has settled at the bottom of the orb. Enough that Solomon will be able to attempt his spell more than a few times.

So, with that in mind, he releases you.

The tentacle around your torso unwinds—your breasts feeling used, and sore from its touches. At the same time, the magic stuffing your pussy slowly pulls out—the limb soaking up whatever excess arousal you have to offer as it retreats.

Before long, the two tentacles have remerged with the ball of golden magic—the light from the spell circle fading as everything settles back into place. Once he’s sure that your precious juices are properly kept, Solomon waves his hand, and the magic binding your wrists disappears.

Almost instantly, you’re falling forward—catching yourself on your hands and knees, fingers smearing through intricately drawn chalk lines. Solomon kneels in front of you, brushing your hair from your eyes.

“You did well,” he says.

“You’re the worst,” you respond. 

Your entire body feels like jello. You’re not even sure there’s any blood left in your arms.

He chuckles.

“Fine, I’m the worst.”

Grabbing you beneath your arms, Solomon helps you to your feet, and leads you over to his bed. He throws the sheets over you, and then moves to retrieve the blob on the center of his floor. He gingerly places it on his desk—resting it atop a plush cushion, like a prized pet.

His eyes linger on it for a few seconds, satisfied. Then, his silver stare turns back to you—his sheets rustling as you settle yourself in.

There’s absolutely no way he’ll be kicking you out anytime soon. If you can barely walk to his bed with his help, there’s no chance that you’ll be able to walk all the way back to the House of Lamentation.

Luckily, he doesn’t seem to mind your company. He’s got a heart inside of him, even if parts are stained black.

“I’ll go get some water,” he says. However, just as he’s brushing past the bed, there’s a knock at his door.

He pauses at the sound, and you hold his sheets tighter around your naked body.

Eyebrow raised curiously, Solomon strides to the door and pulls it open. Standing on the other side is a red-faced Simeon. He looks both angry, and embarrassed.

Solomon’s heart drops.

Despite all his preparation, he’d forgotten to enact a noise blocking spell…

“Oh shit.”

“Oh shit is right,” Simeon responds, crossing his arms. “You’re lucky Barbatos agreed without question to teach Luke a new recipe despite me calling him last minute. Once I heard you and your partner…going at it. You live with a child up the hall, Solomon.”

Solomon sighs. “I’m sorry. I meant to cast a spell to block the noise, but I forgot.”

“Next time, don’t forget, or I’ll have harsher words to say to you.”

“Very much noted.”

“Good.” Nodding, Simeon turns to stalk away from the wizard, but pauses.

“Oh, by the way, you mentioned inviting Y/N over this weekend. Are you still planning to do that? I’d love to see her.”

“Uhhh…,” Solomon resists the urge to glance back into his room, towards the bed where you’re currently hiding yourself. “Yeah. She should be over later. I’ll let you know when she gets here.”

“Good!”

Smiling, Simeon disappears up the hall. Solomon shuts his door, and from beneath his covers, you quietly scream.

“Simeon heard us fucking!! What’s wrong with you!!”

Again, Solomon sighs.

“Yes, yes, we already agreed—I’m the worst. Now pipe down, or I’ll have to shut you up again.”

When you actually cease your scolding words—glaring at him over the edge of his sheets—Solomon cocks an arrogant eyebrow.

Well then, he certainly knows the best way to get you to shut up from now on.

#om! #obey me #solomon x reader #solomon x mc #solomon fic #solomon smut #obey me fic #obey me smut #obey me reader insert #obey me solomon #solomon

[banditnoo]

My Castle of Ships {1/2} - Merlin One Shot

Summary |  {A strange phenomenon had occurred when Arthur had been born by magic. He now had the ability to read minds. Nobody knew of his gifts. Arthur knew from a young age that sorcery was not welcomed in Camelot. With fears that his own father would banish or harm him, he kept his piece of magic to himself. A piece of magic that had become much less of a burden after he had been crowned king, and for moments like these; While he was bored and Merlin daydreamed.}

Tags | {Merthur, Magic Arthur AU, mind reader AU, Major Character Death}

Warnings | {Like one swear word? Angsty, but not as gut wrenching as 5x13}

a/n | {I’ve finally worked up the courage to post some of my writing on Tumblr! This has been cross posted to AO3 (Legendary_Julia) and Wattpad (GreaserGal19). Maybe one day I’ll get my usernames in order, but today is not that day. Part 2 will come out... at some point. This was suppose to be a stand alone story, but our boys deserve better. Thanks for checking me out, happy reading!} 

~~~

{A strange phenomenon had occurred when Arthur had been born by magic. He now had the ability to read minds. Nobody knew of his gifts. Arthur knew from a young age that sorcery was not welcomed in Camelot. With fears that his own father would banish or harm him, he kept his piece of magic to himself. A piece of magic that had become much less of a burden after he had been crowned king, and for moments like these; While he was bored and Merlin daydreamed.}

~~~

Merlin was a daydreamer, he always had been. He'd often find himself thinking of Ealdor while he puttered about Arthur's chambers. Sometimes he would imagine what it would be like to rule his own kingdom, to make his own rules. While he scrubbed away at Arthur's hunting boots, he built his own castle. The citadel would be magnificent. The walls would stand tall, glittering with a hint of magic. Beautiful tapestries would hang from every wall, depicting anything the passerby's wished. A series of tunnels would wind throughout and underneath the stone walls, eventually connecting to water. Yes, the castle would have to be by the ocean. Merlin smiled to himself as he pictured it. The birds, the sound of waves crashing against the rocky shores, and the ships. Merlin loved the idea of having ships. With a boat like that he could sail anywhere, do anything. That's what it could be, his castle of ships.

Arthur had to smile at the name. He too pictured the castle from his spot at his desk. He could only imagine the beauty of a kingdom Merlin could build with his magic. The Castle of Ships.

"Has a nice ring to it," Arthur muttered to himself, to caught up in the image to realize he had said anything aloud.

"What was that?"

"Hmm?"

"You said something."

"No, I did not."

"Yes, yo-"

"You're hearing things Merlin, go back to whatever it is you where doing. Maybe scrub a different spot before you muck up my good boots."

Arthur stood up abruptly, leaving a confused Merlin watch him briskly walk out of his chambers.

"He really has gone mad." Merlin muttered as he began to clean the other boot.

~~~

Merlin knew someone was listening. He's felt the presence in the castle for a long time, but could never quite pinpoint it. He had tried to call out many times. Perhaps there was a Druid somewhere within Camelot trying to communicate, or an evil doer with a presence too strong to ignore. But there was never an answer. He was always left alone with his thoughts, which he was slowing getting scared to think.

When the presence felt strong, Merlin would busy his mind with his daydreams. He would think of home, or add details to his imaginary kingdom.

He did his best daydreaming during round table meetings. The presence would always be strong in the throne room, the magic almost danced through the air. It was here that he added the finer details of his castle.

He constructed a grand portrait hall as Leon droned on about the months finances. The long room would have the most brilliant red carpet, lined with an intricate gold and black pattern. He could almost feel himself walking through the grand hallway as he leaned against the cold stone of the throne room walls. As he imagined himself walking along, he thought about whos portraits he would put on display. He would have his mother, of course, and Gwen, his first friend in Camelot. He could picture the cocky smirk on Gwaine's portrait and the valiant yet understanding look on Lancelot's. His eyes scanned around the round table, imagining all of his friends in their best Camelot red, striking wild poses for the artist. They eventually landed on Arthur, whose head was resting lazily against his hand, trying his best to listen to Leon. Merlin hummed to himself, placing Arthur's portrait at the end of the hallway. It would be the only place fit for his king.

He had heard once of a spell that made the portraits move within their frames, adopting the personality of its subject. He studied Arthur's face as he thought, committing every detail to memory. The way his golden hair fell across his forehead in soft wisps, and how his nose came to a gentle point, complimenting the rest of his face. His favourite feature of Arthur's has always been his eyes. A piercing blue that found him in any room they were in.

They were the same blue eyes that were staring at him now, Merlin realized, staring back, not daring to look away now. Their shared a million words with just a look, a conversation no one else would hear.

Are you as bored as I am?

When is dinner?

When will Leon stop talking?

How's the castle of ships coming?

Merlin's heart dropped. He was imagining things, right? He had to be. They weren't really talking to each other, after all. It was all in his head, somewhere Arthur most definitely was not. He was quickly becoming aware of the overwhelming sense of magic flowing through the room.

I know you're in my head. Make yourself known. I don't know what you want, but you won't be getting it.

Arthur was taken aback by the threatening tone in Merlin's voice. He hadn't realized that Merlin could sense the presence of his magic, or that he was so threatened by it. His eyes dropped quickly, looking at everything but Merlin in the corner of the room.

"Is everything alright, Sire? You looked concerned." Leon's address took Arthur by surprise. Sitting up as fast and as straight as possible, he voided his face of any emotion as he shook his head.

"Yes, yes. Everything is fine. We must ensure that patrol around the citadel continues. I've caught wind of a potential threat. A sorcerer."

"Are you sure, sire? I haven't heard of such a thing."

"Certain. I trust my sources," with a final glance at Merlin, he nodded at Leon, urging him to continue with the meeting.  

~~~

Arthur's eyes followed Merlin around his chambers. He could hear his thoughts going a mile a minute as he absentmindedly straightened the pillows on the bed.

"There is something on your mind," Arthur said, not moving his head from where it rested in the crook of his elbow, all but laying on the table.

"What makes you say that?"

"I can see it in your eyes." Their eyes connected from across the room, but Merlin looked away quickly, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. There was a moment of silence before he spoke again,

"Something is troubling you, and I want you to tell me. Please, Merlin, there is no need to lie."

Merlin was fighting with himself, and Arthur didn't need to be a mind reader to see it. They stayed like this, Arthur looking at Merlin and Merlin looking at the floor. They both felt the heavy magic in the room, but neither acknowledged it.

"Have you ever missed a place you've never been? A place that never really was?"

"I never took you for a philosopher, Merlin," Arthur couldn't help the smile that crept onto his face, or the fondness in his eyes, "if this is about your mother, I've told you. She is more than welcome here. I know how much you think of her."

"No, it's- that's not quite it."

'Not thinking of running away, are we?" Arthur's smile grew bigger as he spoke. He knew that's what it was, Merlin had been thinking about it for weeks. He wasn't worried, though. He knew Merlin would never leave without a goodbye, and a chance to convince him to stay. The guilty look in Merlin's eyes confirmed what Arthur already knew.

"I would never! Who would deal with your royal ass everyday if I left?"

"It's a simple fix, really. I would just have to come with you. Make sure you don't get yourself killed."

"Arthur Pendragon on the road? I don't believe it for a minute." Merlin smiled as he spoke. He imagined the two of them running away, into the castle of ships.

Many sleepless nights had allowed Merlin countless hours to add onto the castle. In the late hours of the night, he added gardens and ballrooms, imagined the wind on his face as he held tightly to the mast of a massive wooden ship. Those same nights, Arthur would lay awake in his own chambers, halfway across the castle, and imagine the beauty for himself as he listened to Merlin describe his castle grounds in a way that a child listens to his mother read a bedtime story.

"I am perfectly capable, thank you," Arthur rose form his spot at the table, making his way over to the bed and trying his best not to sound too amused, " and put some wood on the fire, would you? We've got an early morning tomorrow. We're travelling to Annis' land. She wishes to discuss the safety of both our borders villages."

"Is there a reason I was not told of this sooner?"

"It's simply business, Merlin. There's no need to worry. Get some sleep, you'll need it for the journey."

"I have a bad feeling about this," Merlin muttered as he left, shutting the door tightly.

"I heard that!"

"Go to sleep!"

~~~

The knights laughed loudly as their horses carried them down the well-beaten trail. An agreement was reached between Arthur and Annis about the protection of the border villages, making it much safer for villagers in each kingdom to travel through the border forests.

"Smile, Merlin! We're celebrating!" Gwaine gave Merlin's should a rough pat as his horse rode up alongside Merlin's. He held out a water skin, no doubt filled with ale, and gestured it towards Merlin.

"You're always celebrating, Gwaine." He took a long sip before handing back to Gwaine, nodding his thanks. He would need a drink if he was going to deal with the knights for the ride back to Camelot.

Merlin turned to his daydreams as their journey back continued. He was picturing a beautiful courtyard, lush with apple trees and all kinds of flowers, when his magic started to tingle. He hardly noticed it at first, brushing it off as the change in the wind, but the feeling kept growing stronger.

Someone was watching them.

They were just leaving Caerleon's borders through a valley, the perfect place for an ambush. Merlin looked around, uneasy. His body tensed at every little sound as the forest came into view. He was fighting with himself. If he told Arthur, would he believe him? What if it really was nothing? No, his magic wouldn't deceive him like that. He looked at Arthur, who was riding a short distance in front of him.

Merlin didn't even have to call his name for Arthur to turn around. As soon as their eyes met, a look of concern filled his face. His hand came up, signaling the group to stop. He looked toward the tree line, signaling for his men to do the same. Much to Arthur's horror, it was deathly quiet. The birds stopped chirping and the wind seemed to stop howling. The air around them was still as the group looked around.

"Did you hear something, sire?"

"No. That's exactly the issue."

"If we are quick, we can make it to the trees. Find safety in the forest."

Despite Leon's suggestion, nobody moved a muscle.

They continued looking towards the trees, before Merlin gave Arthur a hard nudge. Getting ready to tell him off, Arthur turned quickly on his horse before following his line of sight. Standing atop the rocky hills on either side of the valley were dozens of men wearing loose black and brown clothing, swords and bows drawn, pointed at the much smaller group of knights.

"AMBUSH!"

The horses started going crazy, whinnying and thrashing in an attempt to throw off the knights. Swords were drawn as the bandits began to yell, running down the hills at all angles. They were outnumbered, far too outnumbered to stand a chance against even the weakest opponents. Arthur unsheathed his sword, trying to regain control of his horse.

"Head for the trees!"

Picking off only the first attackers, it was a race between time, the bandits, and making it to the cover of the woods. Taking a sword from one of the bandits bodies, Merlin was quick to follow Arthur. With his heart pounding in his ears, he could no longer hear the commotion of the fight. He could only hope he was losing them.

~~~

Merlin's head was spinning as he stumbled through the thick underbrush of the forest. He had lost his horse when he lost sight of Arthur. He dragged his stolen sword loosely behind him as he tried to ignore the searing pain in his shoulder. The bandits had been quicker than he thought, and had much better aim than what he'd like to give them credit for. He had barely cleared the trees when the arrow struck his shoulder, no doubt coated in a poison that his mind was too foggy to identify.

Things had gone downhill very quickly after that. The sun had set what Merlin could only guess was hours ago. The forest was so dark he could hardly tell which way was up. He was ready to give up finding the others. He had wandered for hours, they could've been halfway back to Camelot by now.

Merlin had stopped for a moment, leaving heavily against a tree to try to catch his breath, weighing his options as he grimaced at the pain shooting through his arm. He stayed there for a few minutes, waiting, listening to the forest. He heard the magic in the forest as it flowed through every tree, every leaf. There were owls in the distance, and the sound of insects flying by. And footsteps? Although the sword was in his good hand, Merlin was weak as he swung blindly behind him. Hearing the dull thud of metal on metal, and a familiar grunt, Merlin dared to turn around.

"It's a good thing you've got sticks for arms," Arthur huffed out a weak laugh as he took the sword from Merlin.

When Arthur pulled him into a hug, Merlin was ready to defend himself, but he was to tired too do anything but lean into the cool metal of Arthur's chainmail. A gentle 'hmff' was all he could manage.

Arthur took Merlin by the shoulders and held him at arms length, giving him a once over. It was hard to see in the dark, but he could see the blood that coated Merlin left shoulder and arm, and now his own hand.

"I would never leave you behind! How could you think that?" Arthur sounded heartbroken as he gripped onto Merlin's good arm tightly.

"I didn't- how-"

"You didn't need to say it out loud for me to hear you."

Confusion was evident in Merlin's eyes as he scanned Arthur's face, looking for any trace of a joke, but he found nothing.

"It's you, isn't it? That presence, that magic... It's you?"

"It always has been."

The magic danced between them, like it had a thousand times before, but there was no fear behind it, not this time.

"You're hurt."

"I noticed."

Merlin leaned into Arthur's arm, trying to stay steady.

"Can you walk? Let me take you to the others. We've set up a camp, we'll be safer there."

"Only if you carry me. Like a damsel in distress."

"Absolutely not," Arthur scoffed as he picked Merlin up bridal style, slinging his good arm around the back of his neck, making sure not to move him too much.

"Hey! I was kidding, you prat! Put me down!"

"Would you rather I drag you? Quit your complaining. If your swing at me was any indication of your strength, you wouldn't have made it another step." Arthur tried to hide the growing concern in his voice. He looked down at Merlin's face, which was now rested against his shoulder, and he could tell it wasn't good. He only now got a good look at what had happened, and his heart sunk. He had had knights that couldn't recover from a wound like that, where the arrow was haphazardly ripped out in an attempt to get rid of the poison it was laced with.

"Merlin?"

"Hmm?"

"Tell me about the castle. The castle of ships. I'm sure there's parts that I've missed. I can't be in your head all the time."

Merlin smiled, closing his eyes as he shook his head against Arthur's shoulder,

"It's a stupid idea."

"It can't be that stupid, you put a lot of thought into it. Have you ever thought of becoming a storyteller?"

The laugh that came out of Merlin was short and hoarse, but Arthur needed him to keep talking. They were still a long walk away from the camp, and Arthur was willing to do anything to get Merlin there alive.

"I didn't realize I had such a way with words."

"Please?"

"What would you like to hear about, my lord."

"I won't hesitate to drop you."

Merlin let out another laugh, much rougher than the last one, that quickly turned into a fit of heavy, wet coughing. Arthur continued to walk, the only sound being his boots hitting the ground for a long time before Merlin began to speak.

"The grand hall, it would stand alone from the rest of the castle. It would have a long, stone pathway for guests to walk along as they gathered for feasts and balls. It would be lined with rose bushed and allium flowers, the dark purple ones."

There was another coughing fit before he continued, "the double doors, they would be engraved. With dragons, fairies, things of magic. Did you know your shoulder isn't very comfortable?"

"I wouldn't imagine, with it being covered in armor and all. Tell me about the boats. They are my favourite part."

"What about them? I've never seen a ship, only the pictures in Gaius' books. They're fascinating, aren't they?"

He could hardly finish his sentence before he started coughing again. It shook through his whole body, making him ache.

"Come on, Merlin. Keep talking. Give me something, a thought, anything. It's not long until we'll be back with the knights. Elyan will fix you right up. Good as new, right?"

Merlin gave a weak smile, "good 's new..."

"Why do you find ships so interesting? They are just big, fancy boats."

Arthur could hear Merlin's thoughts, still going a mile a minute despite him thinking almost nothing at all.

" 's exactly it. They're big, they're fancy."

"Is there a spell for that? Could you create one?"

"A spell for what?"

"Building things. Constructing this castle, making ships."

"I'm sure I could figure it out."

Merlin shifted in Arthurs arms, trying to make himself more comfortable before hissing out in pain and trying to reach for his shoulder.

"Are you trying  to bleed out? Quit moving!"

Arthur's words came out harsher that he intended, though there was sadness in his voice. Merlin continued to wiggle until Arthur dropped his legs. Keeping one hand around Merlin's waist, he used his other hand to keep a firm pressure on his shoulder. Against Merlin's protest and Arthur's better judgment, they continued walking through the dark.

"We're not going to make it in time." Merlin was leaning heavily into Arthur's side, barely keeping his footing at he stumbled over another tree root.

"We're going to make it. You're not going dying on me now Merlin. That's an order."

"When have I ever listened to those?"

Merlin stopped walking, forcing Arthur to stop next to him. Letting himself fall to his knees, he landed with a small 'thump' on the cold ground, the blanket of pine needles and leaves welcomed him. Arthur lowered himself after him, keeping one hand at Merlin's side, his other hand reached out to rest against Merlin's cheek, keeping his head steady as he closed his eyes.

"Keep your eyes open Merlin. Come on, looks at me. Say something."

"Remember my story, won't you? You've heard me tell it a thousand times. Built that castle of ships. For me?"

"I won't build it unless your there to see it. Open your eyes, Merlin, please." Arthur felt hot tears roll down his face as he looked at Merlin. His friend, his best friend, his only friend, was going to die.

Merlin opened his eyes slowly, only getting them halfway opened before they became to heavy to move. Arthur moved the hand on Merlin's waist to his back, gently pulling him into another hug. They sat like this, in silence for a long time, Arthur not daring to pull away.

Arthur started to hum a gentle tune in a last ditch effort to break the silence, not trusting his own voice to not break if he spoke. It was a tune he had caught Merlin humming hundreds of times. It reminded him of the warmth of the castle, how comfortable he was when he watched Merlin go about his duties from his spot at his desk, listening to the story of a magnificent castle being built and the mighty ships that gave it it's name. It reminded him of all the times he had to stop himself from revealing his piece of magic to Merlin, to tell him that he wasn't alone, that he wasn't hated.

The quiet song came to an end and Arthur stopped, listening to the sounds of the forest and hoping to hear a voice amongst the gentle rustle of trees, but he heard nothing. There wasn't a cough, nor a cry or a snarky remark, not even a thought. It was quiet, deafeningly so as Arthur began to cry. Long, ugly sobs were the only sound as he pulled Merlin closer to him, begging, pleading for him to move, get up, say something, kick him, yell at him, anything.

But alas, there was nothing. Only silence as Arthur continued to cry. He cried for the loss of his friend, his dearest friend. He cried for the loss of the kingdom they never got to create with each other.

He cried, sobbed, begged, and bargained. But that too, only ended in silence.

#bbc #bbc merlin #merlin #merthur #arthur pendragon #pendragon #merlin oneshot #merlin imagine #arthur pendragon imagine #sir leon #sir gwaine #knights #king arthur #arthur #king arthur imagine #arthur imagine #leon #gwaine #hunith #gwen #merlin au #king arthur au #merlin imagines #arthur pendragon imagines #merlin one shot #merlin x arthur

[wistfulrat]

a 4-part rec list of my fave drarry fics - the thrillers, dramas, soft bois, and wankbanks getting me through 2020′s shitstorm

[ for my fellow fledgling drarry stans! the drama list is here and, well. like i didn’t initially intend to go off in the mini-reviews beneath every rec but it’s just that you can't nOT yell about drarry as classic literary foils!! also it’s my dumb sideblog so i decided there are no rules and i get to be annoying about good writing.

but rly, the whole premise of the drarry pairing is shaped by this genre and if the ~serious world of serious published writers~ weren’t absolute cowards, they would admit that drama fic authors have contributed more to the genre than the average shit you can find at your local chain bookstore. so that's that on thAT. & if you love a fic here, don't forget to follow the authors, leave kudos & comments on their work, send them nice msgs bc they do all this shit for free xoxo ]

part 2: dramas

mood: for when I need emotional catharsis and maybe 7 hours to sob/brood about loneliness, the cost of love, & the perpetual fear of being truly known

includes: angst, hurt/comfort, reconciliation fics. it’s cruelty o’clock folks and someone is about to say/do something Fucked Up that they can’t take back. but don’t worry!! there will be a Reckoning feat. hamlet-worthy monologues, ugly truths, unbridled rage, trauma, insecurity, and just a fuck ton of tears!! but maybe even tender apologies and mended things.

(Un)wanted by @aibidil​ - 36k - E | Ginny's pregnant, then she's not and Harry's single. Harry, again with no family, doesn't know what to do with this turn of events, or how to find a new life—post-war, post-Ginny, post-abortion—in which he belongs. He doesn't expect that life to include dancing to the Backstreet Boys with Hermione and Draco Malfoy. A story of finding belonging in the unexpected. | --- can a fic be tender and unflinching at the same time? bc this story strikes that balance rly well and for a piece about unwantedness, it is incredibly humanizing. ginny holding her own, draco being gentle but not letting harry play victim, hermione calling harry “hazzah” and just the way this friendship insists on the validity of found families even when harry is spiraling?? and you’re forced to consider that no one has the monopoly on fucked-upness and that doesn’t absolve us of the ways we hurt each other but it means that everyone has the same potential to be better after being broken. goD JUST READ IT, OKAY.

Blood Magic, the series by @houseofhebrideanblacks and @thestralsofspinnersend 335k - E “Later that night. . .Draco wondered at the depths of magic, its breadth and scope. The ways in which life pervades and eludes death, the ways in which they endure all manners of small and large deaths within their lives.” -- if you don't read any other fic on this list, i hope you read this series bc holy shit it’s breathtaking. harry’s a recovering addict, draco’s recovering from abuse, and in a cottage within the forbidden forest begins an unlikely partnership as the boys take up the tedious work of healing. there are thestrals and everyone's in therapy. there are whole chapters of cottagecore drarry. it's a beautiful exploration of how we bare the immensity of loss against the miracles of birth and regrowth. 

Ship of Theseus by GallaPlacidia - 18k - T “A ship in a full sail, a ship in a state of decay, a ship that had been rebuilt, slightly different. A repeating cycle. “What makes the ship the same?” asked Harry. “I don’t know. There must be something in it that lasts across the changes.” -- DO YOU KNOW HOW THIS QUOTE LIVES RENT FREE IN MY SAD, SAD BRAIN. DO YOU KNOW HOW I LOSE SLEEP THINKING ABOUT THE FUCKING SHIP OF THESEUS. it’s a memory loss fic and everything is so unFAIR. you want to murder harry sometimes bc he’s such a shiT and you suffer through the ways he questions desire, penance, redemption, true love. and by the end, you want to believe in those golden slumber lyrics: “once, there was a way to get back home” 

Yours to Keep by @dracoismytrashson​ - 135k - E i love the university setting, i love getting to see harry and draco’s first forays into a real LGBTQ community, the class and race structures outside of the wizarding world. i love that this is the context in which they’re allowed to confront the shittiness of PTSD, anxiety, depression etc. as they come together and fall apart against each other’s traumas. it makes the ending feel earned af. “Baby, we’ve been easing into it for a decade.” -- my god this line

Away Childish Things by @letteredlettered​ - 153k - T  this fic is devastating. like, completely forget whatever reticence you might have towards a de-aging fic and read this. the de-aging premise allows the author to cut through the ways harry and draco hold each other at a distance and you end up with these stunning moments of clarity where they’re truly seeing each other for the first time. and suddenly everything makes sense. i won't spoil it here but there’s a scene towards the end where harry is talking to hermione and ron about realizing the first time he felt what its like to be loved and I fucking SOBBED. an all-time fave fic about learning how to belong.

Had To Be You by @lettersbyelise​​ - 59k - E a genuinely excellent slow burn about absolute fucking morons who refuse to express their mutual love over the course of literal years?? HOW MANY TENDER MEET-CUTES DO 2 GAY IDIOTS EVEN NEED. a car ride a bookshop a street corner -- when harry met sally is my enemy. but you know what? this fic is masterfully written, it’s an epic tale of unexpected friendships and the inability to say the things we feel. also its very much also a soft boi fic if not for the Major Fuck Up that pushes it into drama territory for me. so worth the turmoil tbh.

Hurricane by phrynne - 120k - E auror partners terrified of love. it’s a fic about walls - where the emotional landscape of this fic is occluded by dishonest words so you feel the tension play out in hollow voices, shuttered looks, emptied eyes. it’s like watching two ppl get flayed alive in slow motion and everything is SHIT for a little. it’s mean, it’s ugly, it doesn’t let you give the characters an out when they’re being cruel - to each other and to themselves. but harry and draco are two violent forces hurling toward each other’s walls and the inevitable reckoning comes and it’s so very worth the ending. the hospital bed scene to rule all hospital bed scenes.

Returning Tides by @zigster-ao3​ - E  “Is my timing that flawed? Our respect run so dry? Yet there's still this appeal That we've kept through our lives” --those fuCKing ian curtis lyrics in the summary!! p a i n. why do i put myself through getting-back-together fics knowing full well i’m gonna be Sad As Hell during the not-together portion of the story?? we are all unfortunately hoes for heartache. anyway this fic is beautiful. draco’s a dad and recently widowed, harry has a thestral reserve, the settings here are stunning. a story about grief and love that lingers.

A Piercing Comfort by @talithan - 44k - T “There is no objective scorecard. There isn’t anything that a person does that tips the balance from ‘deserving’ to ‘undeserving’, or vice versa. A ‘deserving’ person will not run out of worthiness after a set time of happiness and have to then go about working to deserve it again. And an ‘undeserving’ person does not have to suffer at length before having the opportunity to be ‘deserving’.” -- the heart of this fic. harry’s in therapy, facing depression, and learning how to accept love he doesn’t think he deserves. (also draco is harry’s therapist but yes, that power dynamic is handled ethically-well imo and addressed in the author notes I promise!!).

Borrowing Courage by @xx-thedarklord-xx​ - 70k - E |After years of being a Magical Artist and painting for other people, Draco decides it’s time to paint for himself for once. The secrets pile up as he tries to unravel the mystery of his relatives but the only thing he didn’t count on was having to go to Potter of all people for approval.| --god i love this fic. the thing about drarry here is that they never mean to hurt each other but they do. they do and draco’s trying to do the right thing and he wants so badly for good family but harry’s never rly stopped grieving sirius and it’s this whole unintended mess of festering wounds forced to heal. everyone needs a hug. also ron/blaise pairing and ron+draco’s friendship here is everything!!

Reparations and the sequel, Foundations by Saras_Girl - 320k - E | Harry is about to discover that the steepest learning curve comes after Healer training, and that second chances can be found in unexpected places.| -- incredible. harry and draco’s dynamic as healers, the cast of original characters, the boys learning what it means to trust each other, draco building a rehabilitation center, harry falling in love with him, and “meus fabula est mei ut dico: my story is mine to tell.”  i cry

The Ties that Bind by phoenix_writing (not on ao3) - 61k - T | Upon Andromeda’s death, Harry and Draco are given custody of Teddy. Their lives will never be the same.| -- harry’s got major abandonment issues and he’s just trying to be a good co-parent with draco but everyone is being the woRST and you want to murder them on behalf of harry. but then, the boys learn to listen to each other and god it all becomes so tender. also harry has a gay panic. things are awful but it all works out. -

[part 1: thrillers | part 2: dramas | part 3: soft bois | part 4: wankbanks]

#drarry #drarry fic #drarry fic rec #drarry dramas #im so sorry if this got long but also #I have too many Thoughts #all I do is cry over two sad gays #its pain o'clock sweeties #time to Sob about the mortifying ordeal of being Known

[10-porgs-in-a-trenchcoat]

Selfies, Tea, and Photography

AO3

Pairing: Commander Fox x GN!Reader Pen Pal Fic

Premise: based off this post I made a while back where I mused on the concept of a clone/reader insert pen pal fic. Starting off with Fox based on a suggestion by @istanmyman

Word count: ~3.9k 

Rating: G

Other notes: Gender-neutral reader, no use of Y/N, apparently I can only write Thorn as Fox’s best bro and nosy wingman 

--

When you heard the news that the Grand Army of the Republic was starting up a correspondence program for troopers and civilians to connect and communicate, you immediately signed up for it. Not that your friends and family weren’t enough for you, it was just that you itched to learn more about the galaxy and what it was like to live and travel among the stars. Enrolling in the program was the closest you were going to get until you were able to travel yourself.

(That, and you were curious to learn more about the clones who were fighting for the Republic.)

Around a month after signing up for the program, you learned you were matched with CC-1010, also known as “Fox.” A few days after learning about your match, you received your first message from him.

Hello,

I am Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard. I am stationed on Coruscant, where I oversee the security of the Senate, manage operations at the military base on the planet, and coordinate with local authorities to maintain public safety. My fellow Guard Commanders and I are participating in this correspondence program to connect with Republic citizens we have sworn to protect and defend. I look forward to communicating with you.

Regards,

Commander Fox

His opening message was … something. It read like he didn’t want to be in the program, like his fellow Commanders may have forced him to do it with them. You also supposed he may have not known how else to introduce himself, and that was the best way he could think of to make a good first impression.

Regardless of the reason for his overly stiff and formal introduction, you wrote up your first message to Fox:

Hello Commander Fox, it’s nice to meet you!

I live on Naboo, in a small town in the lake country. I have a job in my grandmother’s tea shop. It’s not nearly as exciting as guarding Senators or catching bad guys, but it’s quiet and peaceful. I’m saving up to travel the galaxy one day, and until then the next best thing is talking with people like you who live in different places.

I do have some questions for you: what’s it like living on Coruscant? What do you do in your free time? Do you have any exciting stories about saving Senators from Separatists that you can share?

Hope to hear from you soon!

You signed with your name and sent the message.

A few days later, Fox sent his response. He greeted you by name in his opening line then went on to say:

Coruscant is loud, crowded, and messy. Feels like the planet never sleeps, with all the noise and lights at all hours of the day. My troopers and I live in barracks on the surface, and we don’t get much free time. Some of the boys like to go to this bar called 79’s that a lot of clones frequent. It’s not my favorite place, though. When I have free time, I like to relax with a good book, watch holodramas, or catch up on sleep. The work we do is important and a great service to the Republic, but a quiet peaceful life on Naboo with no excitement would be a welcome change of pace compared to my current station.

I haven’t rescued any Senators in the line of duty, but I did help Senator Amidala arrest Ziro the Hutt at the beginning of the war. I like Senator Amidala, she has a good head on her shoulders.

(She’s your Senator, isn’t she?)

I hope that’s what you were wanting to hear.

Looking forward to your response,

Commander Fox

You smiled to yourself as you read his message, and you imagined him in full armor laying back in a bed reading a book. Quiet, restful moments that you took for granted in your quiet life must have been sacred to a man like Fox.

The following day, you hiked out to the nearest lake to take pictures. You made sure to capture the lush green grass surrounding the lake, the colorful wildflowers growing along the shore, the sparkling crystal blue waters, and the majestic waterfalls that poured water into the lake. You made sure to include the pictures in the next message you wrote to Fox:

Senator Amidala is indeed from Naboo. She was our Queen too, back when I was younger. Everyone in my town loves her, and my grandma even has her royal portrait on display in the shop.

Not much has really happened since I last wrote to you. But I did go out and take some pictures of a nearby lake! The pictures are included with this message. I hope they can give you a small taste of my quiet life here.

--

Three weeks went by, and you hadn’t received a message from Fox. At first you figured he was busy with his duties. Then you worried that your pictures of the lake soured his mood, reminding him of something he couldn’t have. Then … you feared the worst.

One day after work, you went home and checked your message inbox on your computer. There was a message waiting for you from Fox. You breathed a sigh of relief as you opened it and read:

I’m sorry it took me so long to write you back. There was a bombing that took out the Senate’s power grid, and then a hostage crisis with bounty hunters, and then Ziro the Hutt escaped from prison. When I haven’t been scouring the city for Ziro or his accomplices, I have been neck-deep in paperwork.

Ironic, how right after I brag about helping bring Ziro into custody, he escapes.

I appreciate the pictures you sent me. Naboo looks like a beautiful planet. I would love to visit someday.

~ Fox

You took note of how he signed off with just his name, not his rank, and then you leaned back in your chair to mull over what to say to him. Your first idea was to invite him to visit Naboo once the war was over, but who knew when that would be. Unable to think of anything to say, you decided to come back to it later as you went about your evening.

The next day while you were at work, you served a customer some herbal tea that was supposed to have a relaxing effect. The customer didn’t stick around long enough for you to see if it worked, but you took a tin full of the loose-leaf tea home with you after your shift. You reviewed the rules of the correspondence program, confirming that it would be appropriate to send a package to Fox, and then you packaged the tea up and took it to the shipping depot to send to Coruscant.

Stars, shipping items to Coruscant was expensive. Fox better like that tea, you thought.

Hello Fox,

I don’t mind that you wrote late. I’m just glad that nothing happened to you.

That really is some rotten luck, Ziro escaping. I hope you or the Jedi catch him and take him back to prison. In the meantime, remember to rest and take care of yourself! Coruscant needs a great Commander like you looking out for it, and I like having you as my pen pal.

I sent you a package with some tea from the shop. It’s a relaxation blend. I haven’t tried it, but it’s popular with customers. It should arrive in the next rotation or two. Hope you like it.

Three days later you got his next message:

The tea is wonderful. I had a cup of it an hour before going to bed, and I had the best sleep of my life. Thank you.

~Fox

Short and sweet, but you couldn’t ask for more.

--

Over the following weeks you and Fox continued to exchange messages. The two of you discovered that you shared a common interest in a holodrama series and dedicated several messages to discussing it and predicting what might happen in the coming episodes. You sent him more pictures of the countryside and of your village, and he sent you pictures of the Coruscant skyline at sunset: the way the golden light of the sun glinted off the shining chrome towers was one of the most beautiful things you had ever seen, and it moved Coruscant up a few spots on your list of places to visit.

At one point you looked up pictures of the clones on the Holonet to get an idea of what Fox might look like. However, the only pictures of the troopers you could find showed them with their helmets on. The closest you could get was a ten-year-old picture of Jango Fett; Jango was ridiculously handsome, so it would stand to reason that Fox would be too.

Fox gradually began loosening up, and he shared stories about growing up on Kamino or shenanigans his brothers got into. He hinted at there being some interpersonal drama among some Senators, but he didn’t name names since he knew the supervisors of the correspondence program read his messages before sending them to you, to make sure he wasn’t divulging information he shouldn’t be.

Fox also asked you more questions about your life. You told him about your childhood, your relationship with your parents, how you got your job at your grandmother’s shop, about your friends that moved to Theed for work or university studies, and all the places in the galaxy you wanted to visit.

You mentioned wanting to see Felucia, and in his next message Fox included pictures of the planet’s colorful trees, plants, flowers, and shrubs – including a few at night, when the vegetation gave off a bioluminescent glow.

One of my fellow Commanders spends a lot of time doing missions on Felucia. I asked him for pictures to show you and he took these and sent them to me.

I’m trying to get him to join this correspondence program too, but he won’t agree to it. He spends a lot of time with his Jedi, maybe that’s enough for him.

I’ve had a lot of mixed feelings about not having a Jedi. I think about how some of them seem like a pain to work with and that it might not be worth the trouble, but then I see other Jedi treat the men under their command as friends or even family.

Which is why I’ve come to appreciate your messages. When I get them, they’re the highlight of my day. For a brief amount of time I feel like a normal person. I’ve never met you face-to-face, I don’t even know what you look like, but I consider you a friend.

~Fox

Getting pictures of Felucia from Fox made you feel all warm and fluttery inside. What he said about feeling like a normal person did as well, but it broke your heart at the same time. You wanted to stow away on a ship to Coruscant to give him a hug, and then go kick the behinds of anyone who ever made him feel bad about himself. Especially since he and his brothers worked so hard to keep people safe … it was a crime that they weren’t getting the recognition they deserved.

You snapped a picture of yourself to include in your next message, making sure the lighting and angle were just right so you looked your best. It also helped that you just happened to be wearing a color that you thought you looked good in.

Thank you for the pictures of Felucia! When I look at them it’s almost like I’m actually there. Please pass my gratitude along to your brother who took them.

I think of you as a friend too. I’m grateful to have you defending the Republic, and I’m glad to have you as my pen pal.

I don’t have much to offer you right now, other than a picture of me. At least now you can know what I look like.

You sent the message with the picture, leaned back in your chair, and watched the monitor of your computer. You knew that Fox wasn’t going to write back that same night, but you imagined him opening the message, reading your words, seeing your picture, and smiling the way his message made you smile.

Oh.

Oh no.

Were you developing a crush on him?

…

…

Then again, so what if you were? You didn’t have to tell him, you could hide it. He was parsecs away on another planet. And he was a clone; would he even be allowed to date if he wanted to? Nothing would or could come of it. If a crush was forming, with any luck it would go away on its own. But that didn’t stop you from double-checking how many credits you had in your savings and comparing that number to the cost for a ticket to Coruscant.

--

Four days went by during which you went about your usual business, often distracted by thoughts of Fox how his day might have been going. Maybe he was chasing Separatists or criminals around, or maybe he was buried under another mound of paperwork. You wondered if he caught the newest episode of the holodrama you both liked; you couldn’t wait to talk about it with him. That little crush you were sure would fade away wasn’t going anywhere, and it both delighted and frustrated you.

The first thing you did after you got home from your shift was check your messages. It had become routine at this point, especially since a new message from him easily became the highlight of your day. However, the message in your inbox – presumably from Fox – was not what you thought it would be:

Greetings, Fox’s Pen Pal!

I don’t know if you’ve noticed yet, but Fox has it BAD for you. I’ve been watching him write these messages to you and hemming and hawing around the barracks and his office making sure he gets every word just right. He’s got your pictures of the lakes and fields on Naboo framed on the wall of his office, he drank all that tea you sent him and he still keeps the tin on his desk right next to your selfie. And if you knew the amount of favors he had to cash in to get our brother Bly to get those pictures of Felucia for you! (it’s a lot, trust me)

Anyway, I thought you ought to know. I told him to make a move and be honest about his feelings but he’s shy. So even though I might be overstepping some boundaries, I feel like it’s my brotherly duty to intervene on his behalf. If there’s a chance you might feel the same way, you should tell him. If you don’t, proceed how you will but please go easy on him.

If it influences your decision-making process at all, I included a picture of him. He’s a good-looking guy if I do say so myself, although he’s not as handsome as me 😉

Yours truly,

Commander Thorn

PS – please don’t tell Fox that I wrote you using his account.

You sat at your computer, staring blankly at the words on the screen, taking minutes to process what you just read … and then you remembered there was a picture attached to the message, so you opened up the attachment.

Jango Fett may have been handsome, but Fox was gorgeous. He looked like he was in his early- or mid-twenties, although there were wisps of gray hair above his ears by his temples. His hair was cropped close along the sides and longer on top, and you took a minute to admire his curl pattern. He wasn’t smiling in the picture, his face wearing a more neutral resting expression that showed off the scar running along the corner of his mouth. Finally, you noticed his eyes: framed by dark circles, his irises were a deep, inviting shade of brown. What would it be like to look into his eyes in person, or run your hands through his hair, or trace his scar with your thumb before you went in to –

You stopped yourself. You were getting carried away. Heat rose up the back of your neck and across your cheeks.

For the rest of the evening you mulled over what to do next. You knew you wanted to tell him that you liked him too … but doing it over a message didn’t feel like enough. Turning up unannounced was a bad idea too. Would he even want you to show up in person? And since you didn’t have his contact information outside of the correspondence program, you didn’t have a way to call him for a face-to-face talk via holotransceiver.

Unsure of what to do, you fired off a message as soon as the fleeting idea for it popped into your brain. Would you regret it? Maybe. Only one way to find out.

Hi Fox,

I want to come visit you on Coruscant. When will you be free?

It only took a few minutes for him to respond, but it felt like hours. The entire time your heart pounded furiously in your chest, and you bounced your leg up and down since you could barely contain your jitters inside your body. There was a chance he would say no, Thorn did say he was shy after all. But when his message came through, you opened it immediately, and all the jitters melted away.

I see you got Thorn’s message … lucky for us he’ll be available to cover for me when I’m off-duty to host you. Let me know when you’re coming.

Your mouth instantly spread into a grin … you could hardly believe it. It hardly seemed real, even as you opened up a Holonet page to book a roundtrip ticket.

--

Four rotations later, your transport came into orbit around Coruscant. A shuttle took you from the transport down to the planet’s surface, and you were in awe of the densely-packed constellations of lights twinkling up from the planet’s surface. Descending into the atmosphere, those lights morphed into buildings, and lanes upon lanes of speeder traffic, and seemingly endless grids of buildings. At one point you saw several buildings whose architecture differed from the others; the pilot pointed them out and said they were the Senate Complex and the Jedi Temple, respectively.

You disembarked from the shuttle and paused to look around. Coruscant was nothing like Naboo. Not a speck of green in sight, no signs of nature, just duracrete and grays upon grays as far as the eye could see. And it was loud, just like Fox said it was, with the revving engines and blasting horns from speeders breezing by above your head.

You checked your wrist chrono, seeing that you had two hours until you were due to meet Fox at 79’s. Next, you pulled a datapad out of your bag that contained a map of the planet’s surface and studied how to get from your current position to the hotel you booked for your stay. The hotel was only a couple of blocks from the bar – not that you had certain expectations for this trip or anything, you thought it would be easier to stay nearby.

All in all, it took one hour and fifty minutes to get from the shuttle landing pad to the hotel to drop off your things, and then another eight to get from the hotel to 79’s. In your rush and panic as you navigated Coruscant’s taxi and public transportation systems, you didn’t have time to be too nervous about meeting Fox in person for the first time. But as you walked up to the entrance of the bar with its painfully bright neon signs and the muffled music spilling out from inside, it all hit you.

You took off to a strange planet by yourself to see a man you only knew through messages. If your grandmother had her way she would have stopped you from going. What if he didn’t like you after the trip … what if you didn’t like him? What if something went wrong?

But then you saw him standing by the entrance to the bar, recognizing him by his red-painted armor and the gray hairs above his ears and the thick curls on top of his head that you admired so much. He was surveying the area with a soldier’s laser-sharp focus, perhaps looking for your arrival, and he clutched a small bouquet of colorful flowers to his chest. When his eyes met yours, his face lit up with a smile, the most beautiful smile you had ever seen. Your worries seemed to matter less as you broke into a brisk jog to meet him.

“Fox?” you asked, smiling yourself.

“Indeed,” he responded before he handed the flowers to you. “I- uh- I got you these.”

“They’re beautiful, thank you,” you said. No one had ever gotten you flowers before; in the past it didn’t seem like anything to miss out on, but now that you held a bouquet in your arms, you felt special. Treasured, even.

“And, uh, as for the venue ….” Fox’s voice trailed off as he glanced over his shoulder at the bar’s garishly bright neon signs.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” you said, trying to be reassuring.

“I’m not allowed in most places, even when I’m off-duty … and I would have liked to take you somewhere nicer ….” He paused and rubbed the back of his neck. You could hear in his voice just how nervous he was.

“Because … well … you’re special to me. In a way no one else in my life is.”

You smiled at him again, and then wasted no time in leaning forward and pressing your lips to his cheek. It felt right to kiss him like that, but when you pulled back and saw him staring at you in shock and awe, you worried that it was too much too soon.

“C-can I …” he stammered. You nodded, and he angled his face so he could return the gesture. His lips were surprisingly soft against the skin of your cheek, and you couldn’t help but wonder what they would feel or taste like on your own lips.

There would be time for that later, you reminded yourself, if all went well.

“Does this place have food?” you ask him.

“Yes.”

“Drinks?”

“Well it is a bar … they have non-alcoholic drinks too, if that’s what you prefer.”

“Then it’s got everything I need. I don’t know what I would do with myself at a fancy restaurant anyway.”

“I imagine a restaurant would be quieter and allow for some proper conversation … but Thorn told me about a spot inside where we’ll be able to talk and hear each other without having to shout over the music.” Fox added.

“Sounds perfect,” you said with a smile.

Fox offered his arm to you and you took it, wrapping your hand around his bicep just above his elbow so he could lead you into the bar. Throughout the evening any time your eyes met his you felt safe, like you were the only person in the universe, and that you needed to figure out a way to make regular visits to Coruscant.

No matter what, you would always be glad you got Fox as a pen pal, and that you came to visit him. Especially since it was more fun to rant and rave about the newest episode of the holodrama in person.

#reader insert isn't my forte so I hope this is okay XD #commander fox #commander fox x reader #commander fox x you #clone trooper x reader #clone wars #star wars #my writing

[ficrecsforklaine]

Hiii! I’m brand new to the fandom and was wondering if the Glee fandom has one of those fics that literally everyone in the fandom knows about and has read? Preferably a Klaine fic bc I love them and want to consume as much of them as I can ahahah thanks!

(I only read Klaine fics so everything listed has them as the main focus)

considering the Klaine fandom has been around for about 10 years, there are a lot of fics to choose from. everyone has their own opinions of which fics are considered to be “fandom famous”, and not everyone likes everything listed. but here’s a list of a few popular titles that spring to mind right away. there are probably DOZENS more that I could list too. I’m going to invite my followers to add their favorites to the notes, so check those out for even more recs.

-

Little Numbers by iknowitainteasy [S&C] [LJ] [PDF/ePub] (PG13)

AU: Blaine sends a text message to a wrong number by accident. Things progress from there.

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Sideways by CrissColferL0ve [FFN] (Mature)

Blaine is the most popular kid at school, he's also a bully. Kurt is the new kid and the victim of the football team, but bullying somebody doesn't necessarily mean you won't end up liking them, even if you try your best not to. 

SEQUEL: Anywhere but Here [FFN]

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Expectation Fails by lilinas [AO3] *SERIES*  (Explicit/NC17)

This was originally written as a fill for a Glee Kink Meme prompt. In a D/s AU where your soulmate's name appears on your wrist (left for dom, right for sub) during puberty, Kurt and Blaine are marked with each other's names. But Kurt, the dom, is a 16-year-old high school student and Blaine, the sub, is his 27-year-old history teacher.

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Go Your Own Way by zavocado [AO3] *SERIES* (Explicit/NC17)

Kurt Hummel just wants to get through his Junior Year at McKinley in one piece. But when the new guy from Dalton Academy Reform School for Boys takes an alarming interest in him, he's certain he's going to be in for a wild ride. Badboy!Blaine, Klaine, AU

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An Accidental Chance by SlayerKitty [S&C ] *SERIES* (R/Mature) [PDFs]

An accidental tweet. A chance phone call. Or what happens when famous TV star Blaine Anderson accidentally tweets his phone number.

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All The Other Ghosts by Rainjoy [LJ] [PDF/ePub] (NC17)

It's a big city for one more lost soul in a mask. superhero!fic

SEQUEL: Grey [LJ] [PDF/ePub] (NC17)

FOLLOW-UP ONE-SHOT: Gloves & Masks [LJ] ( R )

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Syrup and Honey by LauGS [FFN] (Mature)

AU!Klaine. Kurt Hummel is 25 years old when he finds himself being the owner of the bakery he had been dreaming about his whole life, just in time to sweeten up Blaine Anderson's days.

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Someone Like You by iconicklaine [AO3] *SERIES* (Mature)

Kurt and Blaine keep up their very own version of "When Harry Met Sally" for years, a friendship fraught with sexual tension and longing, until the agendas of Adele (yes, THE Adele), a bored NY socialite and a super-sweet hetero couple bring our boys together. The only problem is... they're both in committed relationships. Note: This story is AU after "Sexy" and assumes Kurt and Blaine graduate from Dalton in the same year. In this future fic, set in 2025, Blaine is based off of Season 2 Blaine.

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The Symphony Verse by shandyall [AO3] *SERIES* (Mature)

Blaine has spent most of his life feeling like the only thing people notice about him is that he stutters. He’s working hard to overcome his (mostly self created) roadblocks when he meets Kurt in an online class the summer after his freshman year of college.

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Is It Weird? by a_simple_rainbow [AO3] *SERIES* (G - T)

Blaine sends his Topics in Contemporary Music mid-term essay to the wrong e-mail address, writing an extra m where it was supposed to read Humel. Kurt, spending a semester abroad in Paris, is having a challenging night of essay writing and procrastination, and goes a little bit beyond letting Blaine know he got the wrong person, sparking what will soon be described as a "weird pen-palish thing we got going on" that takes them both by surprise and leaves them hopeful and giddy. 

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Not Like the Movies by Knightlycat [AO3] *SERIES* (Mature)

When new Hollywood golden boy Kurt Hummel receives some disturbing letters, his manager hires bodyguard Blaine Anderson to be with him 24 hours a day. In an attempt to hide Blaine's true identity from the press they decide he needs to go undercover...as Kurt's boyfriend. Famous!Kurt Nevermet!AU 

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A Political Romance by YaDiva [FFN] [AO3] (Explicit/NC17)

Blaine is the son of a conservative politician. He's not allowed to have a boyfriend but he falls in love with Kurt however something about Blaine isn't quite right. Something dark and slightly twisted. Rated M for language, smut, gay sex and dark themes. 

SEQUEL: A Legal Romance [FFN] [AO3]

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Angel in a Red Vest by dontbefancy [AO3] *SERIES* (Explicit/NC17)

A case of two men, two lives, and two stories and how combining them can change everything. Yeah, it’s a basic love story with a firefighter!Blaine twist…and maybe a little more. 

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I’m going to stop here or this post will be a mile long. feel free to browse through the tags on this blog if you have a specific trope you are looking for. welcome to the fandom!!  and if anyone would like to add a fic rec to the notes please do so!

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