#Starker Part One | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spider-mancan · 1 year

Note

Starker fuck or die

This is insane. The entire day has been one dumpster fire after another. Peter fell asleep on top of a building still in costume with his textbook spread open on his lap to the sound of a phone call. The resulting jolt of unfortunate awareness nearly sent his school books down onto the pavement — instead they just have a stain from the webbing and an extremely damaged spine. Peter answered the phone but was more interested in mourning his rental deposit than whatever threat was causing the Avengers to assemble.

Then he heard the words Sex Demon come out of Captain America’s mouth and it was all downhill from there. Forlorn, Peter agreed to set his studying aside and come help out, because, really, when was he going to have another opportunity to sit in a room while Steve Rogers tried to talk about a Sex Demon in the debrief?

It wasn’t nearly as fun as Peter expected. They’d called him in because he was difficult to hit and had the benefit of both long- and short-range fighting, but some of the others weren’t so lucky. By the time he arrived, Black Widow had already been removed by Hawkeye, leaving Second Hawkeye looking very purple (“nice new uniform, Kate!”) and incredibly perplexed. Steve was mostly alright, but whatever was causing problems was not reacting well to the serum.

Causing problems, of course, meant making people extremely Down to Fuck extremely quickly.

“This is hilarious,” Peter says, swinging around the rafters. The warehouse they’re in has already been trashed, light leaking in through the roof and scaffolding collapsed in heaps on the concrete floor. “There is so much porn about this. At least two. Not that I know for sure.”

Tony comes over the comm. “I did hear Sex Pollen Sluts Go Nuts got excellent reviews.”

No one thinks this is funny at all, but Peter is too busy twisting out of harm’s way to feel bad about laughing.

It’s not a Sex Demon, which Peter finds incredibly disappointing. It’s just a man who believes in the power of the aphrodisiac, or something, and developed yadda yadda whatever he’s trying to get blackmail of the world’s most influential people blah blah super awkward and gross and his sex blaster doesn’t even look cool at all.

None of this is the particularly insane part.

The insane part happens about two seconds after Tony manages to topple Mr. Sex Demon over the railing and onto the ground, where the pressurized canisters on his back give way to the unforgiving asphalt and explode into a green haze so dense Peter can barely see the brilliant blue glow of the arc reactor in Tony’s chest.

“Mr. Stark!” Peter yells into the comm, without a response, and he’s swinging over to assess the damage when Captain barks orders for him to stay out of the way.

The Iron Man suit is already vacuuming up the fumes to remove the contaminant from the air, but Tony hadn’t been wearing one of his space safe suits which means there’s no internal oxygen supply, which means he’s also been contaminated. Regardless, the two men come into view and Tony just waves. “FRIDAY gives the all clear.” His voice sounds strained.

Peter drops down just behind. “Mr. Stark!”

“Spider-Man,” Steve calls, jogging over. “It’s best not to get to close—”

Peter is about to ask what Steve could possibly mean when he feels heavy hands grip his shoulders. The Iron Man gauntlets are heavy — in the armor Tony weighs nearly 400 pounds — and Peter winces. “Mr. Stark?”

He isn’t afraid — Natasha hadn’t been dangerous. She’d stood stock still for a moment, called for assistance, and immediately removed herself. Over the phone, Captain America had run through the symptoms of the spores, but Peter can’t remember all of that now. He vaguely remembers a loss of inhibition, some kind of animalistic behavior, and an increase in body temperature to dangerous levels over time.

“Tony,” Steve says warningly.

Iron Man’s faceplate lifts up and Tony is sweating, gritting his teeth. “I know, Cap.” His hands tighten, shaking, enough that Peter grabs one and flexes his fingers, debating whether to pry it off. “I’m trying.” Deep breath.

“Get away from the kid, Tony.” Steve pulls out his firearm and Peter is about to laugh, it’s insane, Tony would never hurt him. Touching Peter isn’t something Tony isn’t allowed to do. But when Peter goes to laugh Tony still looks so serious, so stony, almost sick. Deranged, even. Just a little.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter frowns and Tony’s eyes flutter closed, tight.

“Don’t call me that, right now, kid.”

Kate hops down from her perch in the rafters, awkwardly adjusting the quiver on her back. “I’m just gonna, uh, go.” She gestures over her shoulder to the door, which Tony blasted off the hinges not half an hour ago. “I’ll find a broom or something. Or just leave.”

Steve nods, mouth tight. His gaze doesn’t leave Tony where he’s hunched over Peter like a bad shadow, but his finger stays still on the trigger. Waiting. Not moving one way or the other.

Peter knows how these sorts of things go; if something can go wrong, it will. He runs through the data he can grapes through the confusion, tapping into Tony’s suit. Tony had been exposed to nearly twenty times the recommended dosage. Peter pulls his vitals through Karen and tries not to balk at Tony’s heart rate or internal temperature. Hot. Tony could fry an egg on his chest soon. “We need to get you out of the suit.” Peter reaches for one of the latches.

“Leave it,” Tony grunts. He’s bitten his lip so hard there’s blood in the corner of his mouth. “Better.” His hands haven’t moved, like he can’t move them, like he’s a statue. Peter is going anywhere without forcing himself free. “Better for you.”

“For me?” Peter demands. His hands are already on the gauntlet, but he freezes, struck silly by the sheer nerve. Tony is overloading and he thinks he should stay in the suit for Peter’s sake?

“I’m calling Fury.” Steve brings one hand up to his ear, gun still level. His eyes don’t leave Tony the entire time, even when he backs away slightly and starts to argue on the private channel.

Peter’s fingers tap a nervous rhythm on Tony’s armor. “Karen says you’re spiking really fast, sir,” he says at a whisper. This isn’t good for Tony’s heart, still weak, or his nervous system, which has been run ragged.

“I’m fine,” Tony chokes out through clenched teeth. His skin looks terribly gray, haggard, even. “I am really reliving some of my old glory days right now, but I’m fine.”

“Oh, yeah. Drugs.” Peter laughs nervously. Tony’s eyes are blown, the warm brown consumed by darkness, and his gaze is heavy on Peter. The gauntlet moves now, pulling up the hem of Peter’s mask until Peter feels metal against his pulse point. “Mr. Stark?”

Tony groans.

Peter is a good kid, but he’s not a saint. He’s seen the Tony Stark sex tapes, even the ones that Tony didn’t know were being recorded. He’d been through his own moral beratement when he opened it the first time, but he’d done it several times since because they’re something about Tony that Peter can’t get enough of. And Peter has heard that groan a million times. It’s not like his enemy just punched me into a wall groan, or his this meeting could have been an email groan. It’s the groan he makes when he opens someone up with his cock for the first time. The eyes rolling back, hips stuttering kind of groan.

Peter is suddenly very hard in his jock strap. Terrible. Terrible news.

Karen is a welcome distraction in the form of more terrible news. “Mr. Stark!” The vitals displaying on Peter’s HUD are approaching dangerous levels, especially for an older, unenhanced human. “Your heart rate. It’s crazy!”

Tony is sweating, mouth open in the face of the rising temperatures, and Peter starts to frantically start prying at the mechanisms that hold the armor together. Tony makes no move to assist. “Leave it.”

“You’re in a metal can and you’re already over 100F,” Peter tells him, as if Tony didn’t know. “You’re going to—”

He doesn’t hear Steve barking at him to stop. It doesn't strike him that it’s a bad idea until it’s too late.

Peter manages to get his nails under the ridge of the chest plate and release it, pulling back, and then suddenly he’s falling. Tony has miraculously changed his mind about the suit and decided to abandon it entirely, stepping out and using the momentum of Peter’s scrambling until they both fall prone on the ground. There’s a poof of dust as they clatter onto the warehouse floor, tangled together.

Steve looks over at them sharply and is yelling orders Peter can’t quite hear because he is too busy trying to place the way Tony is smothering him with his body. Even through Peter’s suit he feels the heat radiating off of Tony’s skin, so sweaty he’s almost slick. He smells like hard work and expensive cologne. Peter is bewildered, and he puts his hands on Tony’s chest to push him away only to freeze when he feels Tony pull up mask and lick a thick line from his collar to his ear.

“Mr. Stark, I don’t—” Tony gets a hand between them, pushing the release on Peter’s suit until it’s loose around his body and Peter turns his head to look at Steve. “Captain, I didn’t think it was supposed to be, ah, oh.” He shudders when Tony sucks Peter’s ear into his mouth. “Mr. Stark, please. We need to get you to medical.”

“No time,” Tony mumbles against Peter’s throat. He’s cupping Peter’s groin through the suit while the other hand pulls the mask off completely. “Want you bad. God, I can’t even think. Look at you.”

“Tony.” Steve takes the safety off, conversation over the communicator set aside, and gets closer. He doesn’t want to shoot. That much is obvious — if he was going to, he would have already done it. “I said get off the kid.”

“He’s mine, Capsicle,” Tony growls. He winds his hands around Peter’s back until their chest to chest, and Peter feel the rabbiting heartbeat until it’s hard to separate whose is whose. “Get your own!” There’s the tell-tale fire up of the propulser on Tony’s palm, and then there’s a stare down between Iron Man and Captain America with a shivering Spider-Man sandwiched between.

Steve looks away first.

Peter feels a bit wild, wide-eyed, confused. Flushed and hot and not attractive at all, but Tony is near-tearing the suit off of his body and Peter is so shocked he’s barely fighting it. Cold air hits his sweaty skin where Tony is pulling it down at the neck and it feels like an electric shock. “Mr. Stark, seriously. You need to—oh.” There’s a rough hand on his cock. “Oh, my god.”

Tony has both hands on Peter again, like he’s going to reach into Peter’s chest and start pulling him apart, but the Iron Man suit is in sentry mode now; Peter hears the thunk of the boots on the ground even as he’s writhing, trying to focus past the sound of his own insane breathing. He blinks and then there is red and gold staring down the barrel of Steve’s gun.

“Need you, kid,” Tony growls in his ear, pulling down the length of him through his underwear. This was not on Peter’s bingo card for the day. “Feel like I’ll die without you.”

Maybe you will, Peter thinks hysterically.

Steve could stop this, but the gun is slowly falling lower until it’s pointed at the concrete. “Peter,” he starts, “if you give me the word, I’ll remove him and take him to quarantine until we find a willing partner.”

“Partner?” The puzzle pieces are falling into place but there has to be another picture because the one in Peter’s head isn’t making any sense. “I thought this just made you horny!”

“It sure does,” Tony mutters. He doesn’t spare Peter’s underthings nearly the same respect as the suit, but he tears Peter’s t-shirt off at the neck and spreads it open like a child opening a Christmas present. Hands splay flat over sweaty skin, feeling Peter’s rapid breathing. “I’m going to ruin you, kid.” Like he can’t hear a single thing.

“I’m not—oh, god.” Tony is heavy on top of him and his cock is hard in his sweats, thick where it’s digging into Peter’s hip. Tony readjusts and grinds them together, hard enough that Peter scrambles for purchase against Tony’s back. “Cap, I don’t know what to do. What do I do?”

Tony rakes his nails down Peter’s bare chest, catching on Peter’s nipples with a satisfied smirk.

“What do you want to do?” Steve asks slowly.

Tony has such a high fever and his heart rate is dangerous and he looks at Peter and says, “you want to be a good boy for me, don’t you?” and Peter is so fucked. He’s both literally and figuratively fucked.

Like a flash of lightning, Peter remembers the call earlier: if Tony doesn’t come inside someone, he’ll overheat until he’s either cooked inside or dies from a heart attack. It had sounded kind of funny at the time, only half-paying attention.

Despite having a god among men standing not twenty feet away — oh, god, Captain America can totally see Peter’s boner right now — Tony doesn’t look away from Peter for a single moment if he can help it. Years of the revolving door love interests have made Tony extremely good with his hands. He’s often joked about it, about how good he is in bed, but Peter never actually thought he’d feel the way Tony smoothes hands over skin or bites bruises cherry red and it’s just a whole lot more than Peter expected to happen.

“I—I…oh, god.” Tony licks a line from Peter’s navel up to his chest and latches on to one of Peter’s nipples with his teeth. “I’m, I’m willing. I just—”

“Are you sure?” Steve says firmly, like Peter might be able to think straight with Tony all over him like every unfortunate wet dream he’s had since the seventh grade.

“If you don’t leave right now,” Tony says with a growl, “you’re going to get quite the show, Cap.” His eyes look clouded over, and he sits back heavy on Peter’s cock and just looks at the mess he’s made. Peter’s suit is hanging haphazardly around his hips and his shirt is ruined and his skin is bright pink. The cold wind through the holes in the walls brushes past, too cool on the spit-slick on Peter’s chest and he shudders.

“I’m okay,” Peter chants, and he lets himself reach out and touch for the first time. It’s tentative, fingertips across the scarring on Tony’s chest. “Like, what the fuck, but also I’ll be okay.”

If anyone understands that, it’s Steve, who is flushed almost as red as Peter and pivots. “I’ll guard the perimeter.”

With a grin, Tony rolls his hips so fluidly Peter whines high in his throat. “Kind of wanted to put on a show.” His cock is so hard, rutting into the dips of Peter’s stomach. “Bet he’ll watch. He just doesn’t want to admit how good you look. My perfect boy.” He grabs both sides of Peter’s head, fingers tangling in his hair so hard Peter can’t look anywhere but straight ahead.

Peter presses his hands flat. “Mr. Stark, I…” He closes his eyes tight. “What do I do? This is crazy.” Not last week Tony had been helping Peter with relationship advice, how to get a girl’s attention, clapped him on the shoulder and called him champ like he was going to take Peter to the baseball game later. “You’re…”

The first time Tony kisses him, Peter’s brain doesn’t care about the drugged nature of it. It’s everything he wants, everything he thought it would be in his wildest dreams. It’s possessive, almost bruising, like Tony is boiling over and he’s going to fill Peter up with it. Teeth nips at Peter’s bottom lip until he makes the smallest sound, a little desperate. What? That’s Mr. Stark’s tongue in his mouth.

Tony’s hands slip down under the waistband of Peter’s until he touches hair and Peter writhes, knees clanking together, trying to hide himself even though Tony groans again like he’s found nirvana. His nails rake up the sensitive skin near Peter’s groin. “So soft and beautiful.” Tony bites into the meat of Peter’s shoulder, hips still rutting in a sinful rhythm. “Knew you would be.”

“Are you sure about—ah, about this, Mr, Stark?” Peter tries. His tongue is so thick in his mouth. He can hardly process anything. Beyond Tony is the dingy gray walls of the warehouse, the open space, anyone could walk in and they’d see Tony pinning Peter down with his body. Tony has never looked at him this way; not that Peter hasn’t tried. “You’re…you’re going to hate me later.” He covers his face with his hands, feels the heat on his cheeks.

When he turned seventeen he’d pushed his luck. He touched more, took more. Kissed Tony on the cheek goodbye until he was daring enough to slip, catch just the corner of Tony’s mouth. Peter remembers it, it’s was Monday, rainy, because he’ll never forget the way Tony had looked at him after. Terrified. Disgusted, even. Of Peter. Of Peter kissing him.

Right now, Tony needs more than a sidestep kiss and pat on the shoulder. He needs a hole, something to fuck into, something to take apart piece by piece, and he’s already let Peter know he wasn’t interested in that with him. Peter’s brain is spinning, the reality of the situation started to seep in through the cracks of his shock, and he wonders if he’s being an opportunist by taking Tony’s wandering hands in stride.

“Oh, darling.” Tony leans in and presses a wet kiss to Peter’s shoulder. “I could never hate you.”

The sound of the zipper fills up the whole room. The space is public, with the open floor and windows and sun streaming down, but it’s quiet, save the police sirens outside. Tens of people, probably, just a flimsy wall away while Tony Stark gets his cock out with a groan.

It’s thick, uncut, slightly to the left, and nestled in a thick and well-groomed swath of dark hair. Peter knew all that from the videos, the tapes he keeps on his phone for the lonely nights, but that’s just an old image of Tony. Right now, Tony is on his knees above Peter and he grins, circling his cock with his fingers so Peter can watch it twitch. He’s still a bit gray, he looks sick, and his hair is slick against his neck. Peter has always liked that, when it curls there, but Peter can’t look away from the curls around Tony’s cock right now because he’s just a man and his mouth is watering.

“You’re going to be the best thing I’ve ever felt,” Tony says through that wicked grin, eyes dazed — mind far away, probably, since the fight has left him. He leans over, lets his cock drag over Peter’s stomach. Peter feels pre-come in a smooth line and it makes him whimper. “I’ve fucked royalty, the most powerful people in the world, the most beautiful, but I know you’re going to feel the best.”

He kisses Peter then, when Peter opens his mouth and moans at the idea. He brings one thick hand up to Peter’s neck and just holds him, all threat but no pressure, and opens up Peter’s kisses with the flat of his tongue until Peter is weak and loose on the floor. Those fingers pull his mouth down, slip in and feel his tongue slide under the fingertips, and Tony doesn’t have to tell Peter to suck because this has happened in Peter’s head at least twenty five times.

Tony tastes like metal and lotion and salt. He presses on Peter’s tongue until Peter drools around his fingers, grinding his cock into Peter’s hip and rolling his thigh up between Peter’s legs. “Knew you’d melt for me, sugar in the rain, just like that.”

Peter thinks his eyes might roll back in his head. Is he the one that got caught in the sex pollen nightmare? He feels giddy, almost drunk, and he lets more drool come out of his mouth and slick up Tony’s fingers. He knows where they’re going.

Tony is less single-minded than Peter would have thought, because he’s slow to pull his fingers away and he’s slow to lift up Peter’s leg and he spends an awed moment just looking, which borders on being too much. Peter can feel his ass clench when Tony runs a thumb over the pucker, and his legs tighten around Tony’s hips.

“Just, uh…” Peter wipes his mouth and hides his face in his elbow. “You can start, just…whatever you need.”

Tony presses in gently with the pad of his thumb at the same time he tugs Peter’s arm away from his face, just in time to see Peter’s expression slip into something feral. “Need to see you.” Tony bites into the meat of Peter’s shoulder and laves at it with his tongue. His goatee scrapes across Peter’s skin so good, and Peter curls up until his arms are curling over Tony’s head, hovering, unsure whether to bring him closer or pull him away. “My good boy.”

“Mr. Stark.” Peter presses Tony into his shoulders, another bite, and Tony slips a spit-slick finger inside quick and easy. “Oh, god, I didn’t think—I never thought—”

That’s a lie. Peter thought about it a lot, the way Tony might work him open. Tony’s fingers curl smoothly against Peter’s walls, one to two and then three, a little dry but Peter doesn’t mind when it hurts a little because sometimes soft and sweet feels dull. Sometimes he wants someone to rip him open and make him cry and if Tony is going to do it right now, under threat of death—

“Think about you all the time,” Tony croons heavily against Peter’s skin. He pulls away, purposeful, and Peter blinks. He wonders hysterically if the fog melted away, no more sex magic or whatever it is that’s making Tony want to destroy him, but Tony just draws closer until he can slap his cock around Peter’s swollen mouth. “Get me wet. I’ll make you stop thinking for good.”

Peter groans, an open invitation. This is insane. He shouldn’t enjoy this because Mr. Stark is drugged into wanting him and it’s a huge breach of trust and privacy but Peter scrambled up onto his elbows so Tony can feed him his dick, thick and perfect. He grabs Tony’s hip so hard he thinks there might be bruises but Tony fucks a little harder into his mouth, smooth.

There isn’t a lot of time for sex in his line of work, he’s busy, he’s pining over a man who doesn’t want him, not for real, but Peter isn’t too good to get on his knees in the back of a club and swallow someone down. He knows what he’s doing, throat opening up until the head of Tony’s cock hits the back of his throat. He hums. He loves this. He loves sucking people off, makes his head floaty and easy, and he’s got his eyes closed just to revel in it. He lets drool pool in his mouth again, knows it’s going to make his life easier.

Tony’s thumb wipes a tear off Peter’s cheek, and it’s only then that Peter opens his eyes and finds his lashes damp, stuck together, watery. “There’s my boy.” It’s so fond. “Don’t cry. You’re doing so well.”

Peter’s hips fuck up into the air and he pulls off, suckling at the head before letting it rest gently on his bottom lip. “I’m good. I’m good, Mr. Stark.” He feels Tony twitch against his mouth. It’s incredible.

It’s nothing compared to Tony rolling him over on his side, the obscene way Tony hikes up one of Peter’s legs and spits in Peter’s hole and feeds Peter the head of his cock so fast it burns a little, the way Peter kind of likes but won’t admit. It hurts and then his body knows it like this and everything evens out and Tony growls when he thrusts fully into Peter. His skin slaps hard against Peter’s hips, rocking Peter with a surprised cry further across the dusty ground. Tony just smoothes his hand over Peter’s hip, under the knee, and rocks into him. He bites feral at Peter’s neck and shoulders like he’s here to take and claim, like he’s going to want to see the shape of himself on Peter later.

“Oh, Mr. Stark, I’m, ah, oh, please.” Tony brushes up against his prostate and Peter jolts forward, bracing himself with his free hand on the ground to stop from being fucked flat into the floor. “Oh, please. It’s good. It’s good, it’s good.”

Peter isn’t sure Tony can hear anything anymore, but he takes his hand off Peter’s knee and wraps it around Peter’s throat, pulling him back so their bodies are flush and rocking hard and tight into Peter’s body. It’s hard to remember this is just drugs, this is just another day on the job getting fucked by the unrequited love of his life, when Tony watching the way Peter’s eyes roll back so closely. When Tony kisses Peter he tastes like blood but feels like gold, wrapping Peter up tighter. Peter couldn’t leave if he wanted to. He doesn’t want to. He’ll never want to.

“You take me so good, kid,” Tony says against Peter’s jaw, kisses wetly at the skin there. “Thought about this, about opening you up in the lab.”

“Ngh.” Peter is beyond speech, just like Tony promised, but his hand flies back to dig nails into Tony’s hip. His cock aches, dribbling precome onto the dirty floor and the tangle of his ruined clothes.

“It’s bend you over and slip inside and you’d just—fucking—let me.” He thrusts hard into Peter’s hole, punctuation, and the sound Peter makes is ungodly. “Thought about it when you glued yourself to the wall, just ripping your clothes off—mmm.” A slow roll Peter can feel in his toes. “Find you already open and dripping because I know you fuck yourself sometimes before you come in. FRIDAY can tell.”

Tony isn’t squeezing his throat but Peter can’t breathe.

There are a million and one first hand accounts of Tony Stark’s stroke, but Peter doesn’t think any of them compare to the real thing. On the ground, in the warehouse, while Captain America tries to stop New York’s Finest from throwing open the door and seeing Peter pinned here in the dirt, spread open—

“That’s it,” Tony whispers, gravel. He scratches down Peter’s chest and wraps his hand around Peter’s cock. “You’re so good. Go on. Make a mess. Daddy will clean it up for you.”

It’s deep in Peter’s stomach, rolls up until it burns in his chest and chokes him. His hips cant back, trying to take more of Tony, more more more of something that isn’t here, out here in the open. Everyone knows they’re doing this right now. Fuck. Tony’s suit is still there; FRIDAY is recording all of this, the way Peter shudders and writhes and comes and comes and comes all over Tony’s fist.

He falls flat on his stomach, Tony’s hand still pumping lightly until Peter is pushing back against Tony’s thrusts just trying to get away from the sensitivity.

“That’s it, that’s it.” Kisses all over his neck, his throat, his cheeks. “Let me take care of you. Almost there, so good. So perfect.”

There’s no condom. That’s the last thought Peter has, as Tony comes thick and hot in Peter’s ass and grunts, bites one more time. No condom. Very messy. It’s fine, probably, since Tony said he’d clean it up.

The adrenalin drop hits, empty, and Peter fades away into something deeper than sleep with his cheek pressed into the cold ground and Tony pulling out of his body, wet and sloppy.

#alright so this got away from me #obviously #i'm gonna add a little ending onto this and then post to ao3 because this is just a whole fic #starker #sex pollen #fuck or die #i did my best i've never written anything very exciting smut wise before lmao #asks #tntp #dub con #this is fine #im on fire it's fine

338 notes · View notes

starkerhowlter · 10 months

Text

More Than A Skirt

Ship: starker Rating: Explicit Contains: smut, feminization, heavy degradation, lingerie destruction, pet name use, blowjobs, clothes ripping, praise, calling male parts female terms, Dom/sub undertones, Begging Initial prompt: @starkerfestivals Summer Bingo fill: Feminization Words: 2226 Summary: It's just a skirt, right?

Read Below or on AO3

Thank you so much to @starkerkitty for editing this for me! I mega appreciate you for taking the time to help me out!!!

There's a skirt.

A turquoise tartan miniskirt is on Peter Parker's side of his and Tony's shared bed.

In their bedroom.

But it's not his. And he knows it sure as hell isn't Tony's... Without another look at the shocking piece of fabric, he drops his backpack on the floor and rushes back out of the room, the heavy black wood door shutting behind him. He knows Tony told him to prepare for an eventful night, but fuck this wasn't what he had expected.

"Tony?" Peter calls out, walking down the staircase into the too-white living room. "Tony? Where are you?"

"Mr. Stark is in the lab, shall I let him know you're looking for him, Mr. Parker?" JARVIS replies, his disembodied voice echoing around the room.

"Uh, no. No that won't be necessary. Thank you, JARVIS." Peter heads down into the lab, finding Tony with a million and one blueprints spread over every surface.

"Where the fuck is it?" He hears the man shout, throwing a book off the shelf. Peter catches it just before it hits his face, setting it on the hood of the sports car.

"Hi?"

The older man bangs his head on the metal shelf, cursing under his breath. "Hi, honey. Sorry for the mess, I lost the manual for the vintage Harley over there and I can't remember what kind of bolt it takes."

"It's over there in the top left drawer of your desk. You put it there when you didn't want to lose it last time."

"And it's not there, did someone move it? Did I rearrange my desk?"

"I honestly don't know," Tony sighs, turning back into the cupboard, "Um, Tony..." Peter tries, attempting to reroute the conversation, "I found something in our room... I was wondering if you knew where it came from?"

"The outfit on our bed? I got it for you," the man replies, head still deep inside the cupboard.

"But Tony, it's--"

"I know, I thought you might like something different. You mentioned liking things like that in our conversation the other day. Did you not mean skirts?"

"No, no I did. I just didn't expect you to have found one so quickly. What if I don't look good in it?"

That comment is what finally causes Tony to turn to him. The man crosses to stand in front of him, "You'll look amazing baby, I just know it. You don't have to try it if you don't want to."

"No! No, I do! I just.. er..." His voice cracks, betraying his nervousness.

"Go try it on. If you hate it, you never have to wear it again. If you want, there is also a lacy bodysuit that goes with it hanging in the closet."

"A-a bodysuit?"

"Yes, a body suit." Tony presses a gentle kiss to his forehead and the feeling of his beard calms Peter slightly. "Will you give it a try?"

Peter nods, swallowing. "I will, for you. Do you want to see it?"

"Of course, baby! If you are willing I would love it see you in it. I’m sure you'll look gorgeous! If it helps, I can lock down the house and keep everyone out and it'll just be you and me."

"O-okay. I'll go and uh, go and put it on for you." He steps into the elevator, falling against the white wall. His heart pounds in his chest, anxiety creeping into every last cell in his body.

He can do this.

Back in their bedroom, Peter slowly removes his clothing from the day. He tosses the articles in the hamper, staring at the body suit hanging on the closet door. The turquoise lace stares back, daring him to try it on. He sighs, removing it from the hanger and stepping into it. He pulls the long lace turquoise sleeves up his arms, adjusting the drop centre so that the laces are tightened accordingly. He sighs, picking up the skirt and sliding it up over his legs. The colours match perfectly, and admittedly, it looks good. He runs his hands over his torso, ruffling his hair.

"Alright, hopefully I don't let him down."

-----

"Did it fi-- holy fuck…" Tony turns around, eyes roving across Peter’s form, "Look at you." Peter blushes in the doorway to the lab, stacking one foot on top of the other shyly.

"Is it okay?"

"Okay.... look at you, sweetheart..." Tony approaches him, placing his hands on Peter's hips, "You look so fucking good."

"Th-thank you."

"Now, about the other half of your request, are you still wanting to be called every single pretty name I can come up with?" Peter nods, face and chest flushing a gorgeous pink. "Alright, then... how about we go up to the bedroom, baby girl?"

"M-Mhm" He takes Tony's hand, stepping back into the elevator once again.

"You don't need to be nervous princess, I'll be gentle with you." Tony runs his fingers over the younger's cheek, kissing him as he cups the boy's cock through the skirt. "Play with your little clit and get you all nice and wet for me? How does that sound?" Tony raises his eyebrow, connecting their lips again.

"P-please!" Peter gasps, his body already reacting to the concept of the older man's promises.

The elevator dings, and immediately, the duo is rushing down the hall to their bedroom, "Let's do this." Tony purrs. "Onto the bed, pretty thing."

"Gladly." Peter lays back on the black silky sheets, watching patiently as Tony rolls up the sleeves to his band tee, and unbuttons his jeans. "Would you like me to strip?"

"No, I can get at everything I need to quite easily, Princess." He smiles as he runs his fingers up Peter's thighs toward his crotch. "This one should have snaps..." he runs his hand over the smooth panel covering Peter's cock and ass, "Or... I thought it did. Hm."

"Are you sure you don't want me to--" Before he can continue speaking, the sound of ripping fabric meets his ears, "Tony!!! This was new!"

"I'll buy you a new one, kitten. I'm too fucking into you to care at this moment." Tony runs his fingers over Peter's cock, revelling in the gasps slipping from Peter's mouth. "Look at you. Look how much you love me touching your pretty little clit. Can you tell me how much you love it, Peter?"

"I love it so much, Tony, please touch me more," he whimpers, head falling back into the mattress.

"Well, since you can't even say what you love me touching, I think I want to play with your pretty little tits," Tony growls, crawling onto the bed and running his fingers over the younger's nipples through the top.

The feeling of the lace on his nipples should be overwhelming, but the rough texture burns in the best way, his back arches up against his will, which causes Tony to press more.

"Fuck, princess, look at you..." he whispers, kissing Peter filthily, licking into his mouth and absorbing all of the desperate moans Peter's letting slip. He's so far gone already, and Tony's barely done a thing.

"A-ah... Tony, please..." Peter begs, "T-Touch me, please..."

"Not until you tell me what it's called. Until then why don't you show me how good those pretty lips look stretched around my cock?" Peter moans obscenely, and nods, sliding off the bed. "That's a good girl, so fucking compliant aren't you?" His knees hit the floor as Peter's hand rests on Tony's lower abdomen, and before he can reach into the older man's boxers, Tony lightly taps his hand.

"Wha--?! You told me to--"

"Ask." Tony smirks, hand coming to rest in Peter's hair.

"Please?" Peter replies, "Can I... Can I have your cock, Tony?"

"Of course, you can, baby. All you had to do was ask!" He smiles, allowing Peter's hand to sink inside of his boxers and pull it out. "Now, I want you to suck all nice and neat for me, Princess. Can you do that?"

"M-mhmmmmm..." Peter sinks down, slowly, taking the tip of Tony's cock in his mouth.

"Oh, fuck..."Tony whispers, resisting the urge to fuck into Peter's mouth, "C'mon take it. Just like that, baby girl, take it. Take all of my cock in your pretty mouth. Look'so good like that." The younger does, dragging his tongue along the bottom of his shaft, sinking to the base. He lingers there, enjoying the sounds his husband makes above him. Following the vein along the bottom, he rises back to the tip, "Fuck, Peter, you've gotta stop baby."

Peter whimpers, sending vibrations down Tony's cock, causing him to shudder and cant his hips. The younger reciprocates, desperately sucking harder. He pulls off with a pop, "What's wrong?"

"I'm gonna cum if you keep doing that, Princess. If you want me to fuck you I need you to stop. Back onto the bed." Tony holds his hand out, helping Peter to stand and regain his footing.

"Can I finger you, baby girl?" Tony asks, confidently.

"Please!"

"What am I fingering, Peter, can you tell me what it's called?"

"M-my..." He blushes deeply, covering his face with his hands.

"No, no... none of that..." Tony states, grinding down against Peter as he moves his hands away, "Tell me, Peter, what do you want me to finger?" Before he can answer, Tony has slicked up a finger and pushed it into Peter's waiting hole.

"Fuck! M-my... fucking hell Tony please!" He gasps, voice cracking with the curses.

"What do you want me to fuck?" Tony asks pushing the finger against his prostate and running the fingers of his other hand over Peter's cock.

"Fuck! My pussy!" He shouts, soft moaning sobs wracking his figure, "Fuck please, Tony, fuck me!"

"As you wish, baby girl." He purrs, pushing in a second finger and shortly after, a third. "Look at you, already soaking wet for me... Such a desperate little slutty baby aren't you?"

"Y-yes! Please, Tony! Please please please!" Peter presses his hips back, trying to take more of Tony's fingers. "Give me your cock please!" The older scientist can't help but smile as he pulls his fingers out and slicks up his cock.

"Is that what you want? Want me to ruin this pretty pussy for any other man who dares to touch you, Peter?" Peter nods, mutely, hands tangled in the back of Tony's shirt.

He leans down, connecting their lips as a distraction. As soon as he pushes in, both of them moan. "More, please, Tony!" Peter whimpers, desperately. Tony pushes in more, bit by bit until he's fully sheathed. "You can move!"

And Tony does, he begins rhythmically thrusting into Peter, ripping little gasps and moans from his throat with each move, "So pretty, baby. Such a pretty princess, all dressed up for me and begging so nicely. I'm so glad you're all mine, sweetheart."

"Yours!" He whines, meeting the older's thrusts halfway. "Please touch my cock, Tony!"

He raises an eyebrow, not pausing his thrusts, "I don't think that's what that's called, Peter."

"I don't care please just touch me!" Peter whimpers pathetically and reaches down to wrap his own hand around himself. Before he can, though, Tony takes him roughly in hand.

"Is this what you wanted? Me to touch your sweet little clit? Want me to make you cum, Princess? Make you cum all nice and pretty for me? I bet I can make you beg for it too. Wanna test my theory?"

Peter nods, running his hands down Tony's back. The older bites gently on Peter's neck, a hand on his hip, and the other on Peter's cock. He rolls the boy's dick in his hand, licking and sucking the growing marks on his neck.

"So fucking beautiful, Peter. You look so fucking good like this."

It’s true, he looks quite debauched. His curly hair is stuck to his forehead with sweat, and the sleeves of his playsuit have fallen off. To Tony, the boy has never looked more beautiful than he does now.

The trance he's under breaks when Peter begins begging, "I'm close Tony! Please make me cum! Please! I'll be good for you, please make me cum." Tears begin falling from Peter's eyes at that moment, broken moans and whimpers slipping from his lips.

"Of course, sweetheart, you're begging so nicely for me. You can cum whenever you're ready baby girl." Tony continues thrusting, being sure to hit Peter's prostate dead-on. "I'm close, too." As soon as Tony's calloused thumb runs over Peter's slit, the boy is cumming across both of their tops and the skirt. He tightens around Tony, who quickly follows behind him. "Fuck baby, you're so tight... so good for me, so fucking good..." He presses gentle kisses to Peter's forehead, pulling out slowly. He takes his shirt off, using it to wipe off the mess from them both.

Peter's breaths even out, going pliantly when Tony sits him up to remove the outfit and slip him into more comfortable clothes. "You did so good for me, Peter. Was that everything you'd hoped for?"

"It was fun, thank you, Tony," he whispers, curling up on the older's chest, "I think we need to buy more skirts in the future."

"Oh yeah?" He asks, carding his fingers through Peter's hair, "Sounds like a plan."

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, Reblogs, and Likes are MUCH appreciated!

#starker #tony x peter #shut up nika #nika writes #tony stark #peter parker #peter parker x tony stark #tony stark/peter parker #tony stark x peter parker

115 notes · View notes

snowystarker · 26 days

Text

Currently obsessed with " Good luck, Babe!" by Chappell Roan and I'm imagining a starker scenario with it. ( I know the song is about a lesbian experience, but I'm focusing on the aspect where one person pushes away someone they love because they can't admit to their sexuality)

Tony knows he loves every part of Peter. He loves how unashamed Peter is about his bisexuality and who he is. He also knows that Peter is his soulmate, but between the media and his own self-hatred, he pushes Peter away and marries Pepper to try to forget Peter. Peter knows that what he and Tony had was love, that once in a lifetime kind of love that should not end, but when Tony pushes him away he leaves. A couple months later, Peter's phone rings while he's out on patrol and he sees Tony's name and he knows what Tony is going to say without even answering. He answers and tells Tony that he can't handle being someone's secret and wishes him luck on his marriage to Pepper.

#starker angst #starker #tony stark x peter parker #chappell roan #good luck babe #peter parker #tony stark #tony stark/peter parker #spiderman #ironspider #iron man #pepper potts

25 notes · View notes

thegreenmetblue · 2 years

Text

✏️ Leah’s tumblr fanart masterlist ✏️

link to all masterlists

‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊

Peter Having Trouble Focusing

Glowing Edition

‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊

Little!Peter [for snowstark]

Glowing Edition

‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊

Merman!Peter

Glowing Edition

‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊

Soulmate AU [for itfeelssogoodmrstark]

Glowing Edition

‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊

A Familiar Stranger [for starker1975]

‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊

Hero Worship

‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊

First Time

‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊

Paw Patrol Costume

‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊

SIM!Tony + kidnapping

‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊

Nightmares (+ little!peter bonus )

‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊

Rooftops Scene

‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊

Tomdaya

‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊

Rules (Euphoria)

‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊

🎬 edits 🎬

Dom!Tony

Starker Kiss

‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊ 🕸️ ‎⎊

#last part of leah redoing her masterlist #fanart one #starker #starker fanart #leah draws one time per year

11 notes · View notes

madeforstarker · 10 days

Note

Hiiiii, how is the progress on how I met my omega?! I’ve been dying to read it or get a sneak peek??? Pleaseeeeee 😊😊😊

hiii ~ so far HIMMO is atleast 45% complete, we have yet to reach the vital parts of the story. We've been slowly writing since IRL has been crazy for me and dada. But here's a yummy sneak peek! 🫣

It was like a light switch being flipped for Peter, three words sends him crashing into a violent tidal waves of pleasure as his stomach tightens and his whole body spasms at the orgasm that rips through his body, he gasps for air as he tightens his hold on the Alpha’s hair, unconsciously tugging on it harshly as he arched his back and pressed his pussy even closer to Tony’s mouth, he could feel his own walls throbbing around the Alpha’s fingers.

“Oh fuck– sir, sir, sir,” he babbles out incoherently, his brain drained and the only thing he can think about is that his dream Alpha is buried in between It was like a light switch being flipped for Peter, three words sends him crashing into a violent tidal waves of pleasure as his stomach tightens and his whole body spasms at the orgasm that rips through his body, he gasps for air as he tightens his hold on the Alpha’s hair, unconsciously tugging on it harshly as he arched his back and pressed his pussy even closer to Tony’s mouth, he could feel his own walls throbbing around the Alpha’s fingers.

“What do you need, Peter?”

“Need you, please–” Peter begs shamelessly, he doesn’t know what to expect from Tony, he doesn’t know if this was a one time thing or if the Alpha really wanted him but he’s preparing himself for the heartbreak that will come if it turns out to be a one time thing– he’ll need the full fucking experience if it was, “need your knot, Alpha, please.”

Btw— dada's account was termed due to some unknown reason so they have a new blog! 🌸

Follow dada here for more HIMMO/Starker (also SIM Tony) content: @tsforps 🎀

#starker #tnpt #made.asks #made and ldvn writes!#how i met my omega sf

20 notes · View notes

tired-reader-writer · 1 month

Text

Putting the drabble(?) under a read-more because I don't feel so confident in this one. This was just supposed to be an excuse and vehicle for the solar eclipse and the Pilgrim's Bells ringing so if all the other parts sound jank, that is why!

I apologize for this 😭

The sun blinks.

Hilmes stills.

The sun shines unwaveringly, bright and blinding. Clouds may block it, mist may dim it, and the skies may bring it to rest every dusk.

But the sun does not blink.

It goes against every common sense, the very nature of the sun, but—

It blinks, now.

It blinks and blinks, dims and lights up and dims again like a star, the rays almost blinding in contrast when the light returns.

Until it doesn't.

From the sky, vanish the sun's light.

The air turns cold, and shadows dance around them, like a heat haze, like a mirage, and the malformed creatures halt to look at them. As if captured. As if mesmerized.

Zahhak halts.

The moon, realizes Hilmes. It's the moon, the moon devouring the sun, the moon granting them a boon. A celestial of the night, entering the sun's domain.

The sky children.

He looks at the sword in his hand. Glowing silver, starlight on the earth.

Rukhnabad was forged from a fallen star.

He can move again, he finds. Where before he and his army were frozen by the Serpent King's snare, the moon has lifted the pressure from their mortal bodies— it drops like a rock, and in turn the lack of weight lifts them up.

He feels light. He feels as though he could float away.

He raises the sword, Rukhnabad, jabs it upwards to the sky like a beacon, a guiding light, a breath of hope in place of the sun.

“Hark ye, mages and riders!” he cries out, his voice returning to him at last. “Arise, arise! The wretched snake's curse has lifted!”

A collective cry answers him, relief and hope blends one voice to the other until he can no longer tell which voice was whose, and how many there remained.

It is fine. It's enough.

“Endure, we must! Prevail, we must! Zahhak has been defeated once, he will be brought down once again! By us, by our hands!”

He thinks of Kaykhusraw. The hero-king. The slave. The traitor.

His ancestor.

“And we have with us, what the hero king never did! The key to end this, once and for all!” More like what he foolishly threw away, but this is not the place to say it. I won't do it, he swears to himself. I will not selfishly discard what should be dear to me. Zandeh and Irina flash in his mind at once, but also Kharlan and Saam and Bahman, his followers, his men, all of them, even the ones whose names he knows not.

The mages.

The little bird.

Areyan.

“Remember your brother and sisters. Remember that aid is coming.”

The sound of bells shall reverberate, sang to him the old crone, Break the heavens like dawn over the mountains.

“The promise shall be fulfilled…” The promise of victory, no doubt they would think, there is that too, but his mind dwells on the promise of freedom.

The promise Kaykhusraw broke.

And true tomorrow shall arrive again.

“But for that—” He points Rukhnabad forward, lightning trailing behind it in a dance, casting the shifting shadows in a starker light. “For that we must fulfill our role. Remember! Remember what it is that we set out to do! Remember the work that needs to be done!”

There's so much. There's so much to be done. Here and now, against Zahhak the Serpent King, but also beyond that, beyond everything, even when peace is restored.

The work will be never-ending.

He can't wait to get to it.

He can't help the feral grin that graces his lips.

The sun starts to blink again. The eclipse is about to end.

They need to act fast.

“Loose the arrows! Clear a path so that the second squad can bind Zahhak. We must hold on until—”

That is when the bells ring.

The song, it comes from beyond the horizon, from the east, west, north, and south, around them, all around them, filling the air and overlapping, amplifying each other until naught could be heard over them—

The sky laughs and laughs and laughs.

Like an echo, like light, like dawn breaking over the mountain peaks and thunder in a storm, ripples spreading across still-waters, the swaying of trees in the strong winds.

Like the world comes alive, like all spirits were a single soul made solid.

“Now, now!”

The mass of people spring into action. People, and spirits too. He feels them. They rush through them, past them, wading through the army of men as though they too were part of the charge, all the while the earth trembles and shakes beneath their feet and the sun flick-flick-flickers above in the sky.

And the sound of bells would not stop. He can scarcely hear his men's voice above it, can scarcely hear his own heart.

Well, that is fine.

He is not alone, that much he can tell.

Everyone is here. Even the ones he had sent away to find what had been lost.

They may not be here in flesh, in these plains where the battle takes place, but…

Undoubtedly, they are present nonetheless.

He loses himself in the ever-rising song as he rides forth, and drives the treasured sword in Zahhak's chest as ghosts unseen rend him asunder.

And then all is white.

The darkness is no more.

#arslan senki #the heroic legend of arslan #heroic legend of arslan #wolfpack au #winds of wolfsong #rotten egg's shitty writing #hilmes #zahhak #the bells THE BELLS #this took quite a while to write #this is NOT edited at all it's a first draft hahahahaha

32 notes · View notes

izvmimi · 1 year

Text

cw: fantasy!au shoto x princess!reader, implied quasi-arranged marriage, some place names i made up for my au <3

Court ladies, particularly the ones that are of your age, marriage-eligible and plagued by thoughts of wedded bliss, are notorious for embellishing stories. Especially those that concern men, especially those that concern those rich and powerful men, and most of all those who are thought to be blessed with powerful magic.

The prince who hails from the Terras Magi far away, whose personal history already sounds like the stuff of fairytales, is one of these bountiful sources of mystery and fantasy. Third in line to the throne after the original crown prince of their hidden kingdom went mad and after the second prince disappeared into the night, the mage prince is thought to have strategically kept himself hidden away from the remainder of the continent, declining to partake in the many royal conferences held over the year. Few have seen him in the flesh, aside from the reported occasional meetings with prince Bakugou of the highlands, who somewhat begrudgingly claims to be his friend.

However, that changes tonight. You will meet him, and you are expected to charm him, as princess of Phulblume, to consider forge a stronger alliance with that part of the world that has remained closed off and uninterested in the much more mortal remainder -

and there is no greater alliance than matrimony.

Yet, the thought of courtship tires you immensely. You’ve been in love before, and lost it, accepting that a relationship between a future Queen and her Knight would cause more harm than good; your previously furtive glances, held too long across the court of flowers, have now been reduced to averse, split second looks. You cannot bear to lay eyes on him and neither can he on you.

Love is laid to rest, and you expect not to be impressed by another man ever again.

And yet, the mage prince is everything you’d heard and more.

The prince arrives with his older sister in tow, who watches him carefully, not to protect him but as though to mind his manners for him. He bows before the throne where your father and mother sit, where you stand in polite wait and then curtsy.

As he introduces himself to the court, you find yourself waiting for him to look at you. He doesn’t immediately, and you notice the red and white of his hair, starker in contrast to his sister’s gently swept locks. She is radiant despite the gentle frost that follows her, and it is reminiscent of the first snow of the season, the kind that is too gentle to accumulate but warns you that storms may approach soon. She turns to you and smiles, and you curtsy politely, your cheeks warming.

Then he turns, as though instinctively following his sister’s lead, and he sees you. There is a split second of hesitation as your eyes meet. He forgets to bow and you forget to curtsy, perhaps because you are both feeling out each other with your souls.

You are earth and he is both water and flame.

You catch yourself first, starting your curtsy, and he takes your hand and bows deeply, his eyes falling to the ground at your feet.

“I am pleased to meet you, your Highness.”

The pleasure is all mine, you think and forget to say. His voice reminds you of the gentle crackle of firewood on cold nights as a child, sat comfortably in the lap of your mother as she reads your favorite book.

His sister watches carefully, and you think of morning dew.

“I am glad you have arrived safely,” you can hear your father, the King, announce. Prince Shoto has not stopped looking at you, although your gloved fingers no longer touch. Princess Fuyumi nudges him gently, then speaks first.

“We are thankful to have been invited to your kingdom on behalf of our country,” she cuts in when Shoto remains mute. He seems to snap back into attention at the sound of her voice. He nods.

“We look forward to tonight’s gala and to what you have to show us in Phulblume,” he adds.

He glances at you again, and you look away, your face warming, and wonder if it’s his magic, or something else.

#shoto x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #fantasy!au shoto x reader #mimi's notes #daydreams: bnha #thoughts: shoto

315 notes · View notes

sexyleon · 5 months

Note

I felt that post of yours about the Dracula fandom and the way it talks about adaptations tbh, like, I'm someone who was very involved in DD last year and I've written critique myself about Dracula adaptations bc I love comparative analysis and really thinking about the choices adaptations make, for good or for ill, but from my personal experience, a lot of fandom commentary on adaptations isn't really thoughtful analysis, and don't get me wrong, I'm a hater sometimes too and enjoying venting, but I noticed that this year, there were so many posts that started out as thoughtful commentary on the book, then launched into bitching about the evils of adaptations out of nowhere, and people can write what they want, but it got tiring after awhile to be in a fandom with so much angry energy, not to mention the divergence in canon vs fanon that was much starker this year that made me feel like I had read a different book.

Also, every time I see people point at re: Dracula to be like, see, it's so easy to do a perfect 1:1 adaptation of the novel, why can't other adaptations do it?, it's like, it's an audiobook, a movie can't be that long, even a television mini-series would have to make cuts. And I might dislike a lot of choices adaptations make, but creatives absolutely have the right to take a public domain work and put their own spin on things beyond book accuracy as the number one goal - and like, do we truly want a 100% accurate adaptation when the novel is still ultimately a xenophobic reverse invasion story? Like, I would hope modern directors would seriously grapple with those aspects of the original story instead of reproducing Victorian bigotry unquestioned.

Hi, thank you for your response! I'm glad that my post resonated with a few people!

I definitely also felt a shift in energy with this season of Dracula Daily, and I'm pretty sure it is a direct result of the phenomena that is Re: Dracula. Don't get me wrong, I am a HUGE supporter of RE: Dracula, and I found it to be absolutely delightful specifically because it was a 1:1 adaptation of the book, but I also think that it has skewed the way people engage with all the other adaptations of Dracula. You are so right when you say that Re: Dracula's media as audiobook is what allowed it to be so authentic. Even if it was a long-form series, there would have to be creative liberties taken to account for visualising certain aspects of the text. I am 100% sure someone would be able to do it, but it would undoubtedly be a labour of love and expense.

I think the biggest thing that got lost in translation in my post is that I was speaking specifically on the rhetoric of "bad adaptation = bad media." I don't even like to use the term "bad adaptation" because it feels inaccurate and gives the connotation of being holistically terrible; "failed adaptation" or "inauthentic adaptation" seems more apt when discussing how close an adaptation relates to the source material. I think it is unfair for any adaptation to be written off solely on the fact that it does not strictly adhere to the original text. This can be in way of narrative, characterization, theme, etc. I don't think it's fair to say "x adaptation is bad because it ignores x from the text" because that fundamentally dismisses all the other attributes that contribute to whether or not a piece of media is subjectively good (because honestly that's all it is-- subjectivity). Media, especially film and stage, has so many dynamic and moving parts. There are so many attributes that contribute to the success of any one given thing, especially adaptations (which can claim the title with even the loosest references to the source material). I feel like the black and white thinking when it comes to this doesn't really allow for a dialogue to exist between people who enjoy Dracula adaptations for what they are and, forgive me for saying this, book purists.

Understandably, there is criticism against some adaptations that have claimed to follow the source text closely, but very distinctly did not (Ahum, Cappola). However, I think it does everyone a disservice to deny the impact of a lot of these (mostly) films. Someone in the reblogs of my original post did a good breakdown of the origins of the Dracula genre itself, and I think it goes to show that the story of Dracula has a life of its own outside of the pages of Bram Stoker's book.

The most annoying thing about the responses to my initial post was the refusal to believe that anyone was making these comparisons. I really would not have gone out on a limb to rant about this if I hadn't been consistently seeing vent posts in the main tag with mostly negative responses to a lot of different adaptations of Dracula based on the authenticity of them to the text. I admit I was frustrated when I wrote it, but it really was meant to just address the black and white thinking re: failed adaptations making bad media. This is not to say that criticism of adaptations isn't valid, but I think there should be more nuance to this conversation and that's what I wasn't seeing. It's not fun to dive into the broad Dracula tag and find post after post shitting on your favourite media because it isn't like the book.

Sorry this was a bit long! I am just really passionate about Dracula okay!! And I really really really like all the shitty little shows and movies and plays and comics and all other media that comes out of his name (because YES, a lot of adaptations really make vampire synonymous with Dracula and ROLL WITH IT). Vampires are really neat and the Dracula genre of film has been a huge influence on horror media. I think there is a lot to be said when analysing adaptations, but none of it can come from blanket statements against them.

@spider-xan

#dracula #dracula daily #plz no sexyleon #honestly i lived through the hobbit movies and the book puritism that came out of that and i think it has influenced my opinion on this alo #again because there were some that didnt get it: i am speaking specifically on black and white thinking regarding this #if you don't like cappola's film because of all the shit that happened behind the scenes or because of the narrative itself outside of it's #relation to the original text??? i'm not talking about you

51 notes · View notes

herrmannhalsteadproduction · 5 months

Text

That Herrmann/Halstead DNA (Chapter Five)

Summary: This is Part Twenty-One of my series A Herrmann/Halstead Production. It is an AU where Christopher Herrmann's mom had an affair with Pat Halstead resulting in a baby. The series follows this OC character (Rebecca "Bex" Herrmann) as she grows up and gets to know her brothers and the various Chicago teams. It is very much an AU, just to underscore that. It doesn't follow the same timeline and characters will follow different paths.

Click here for the Series Rundown where you can find the links to read all of the previous installments (which I highly recommend you do so that this one makes sense.)

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Christopher Herrmann & Original Female Character, Jay Halstead & Original Female Character, Will Halstead & Original Female Character, Jay Halstead & Will Halstead, Greg 'Mouse' Gerwitz/Original Female Character, Will Halstead/Connor Rhodes, Assorted OC Couples

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Assault, Stabbing, Gunshot Wounds, Blood and Injury, Whump, Trauma, Eventual Hopeful Ending

A/N: I received my degree from the medical school of Television Drama which means while things might not (*cough* will not *cough*) be accurate, they will be exciting. *jazz hands*

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Two hours later

***

After leaving Lexi with the gang upstairs, Al made his way down to Bex’s room. He rapped softly on the door and entered when he heard the quiet call to come in.

Seeing Bex in that bed was like a punch in the gut. She’d been in rough shape on the scene, but now that she was cleaned up, the marks on her were that much starker. It was only years of being on the job that allowed him to school his face into a semblance of a smile.

“Hey, champ,” he said, stepping over to her. “How you doing?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Bex said, her voice muffled by the oxygen mask as she blinked at him slowly.

Ah. Drugged up to high heaven then. Probably for the best.

“Me and the crew finished up our shifts and brought a bunch of food,” Al said. “Figured everyone would be starving by now.”

Right on cue, Jay’s stomach growled.

“You’re not wrong,” Chris chuckled. He and Cindy were on a little couch off to the side, her feet up on his lap while he massaged them. Jay and Will were sprawled out in two chairs on one side of the bed while Mouse was tucked in close on the other side of it. He was leaning half off his chair, head propped up on one elbow on the bed, his free hand wrapped around Bex’s arm. All of them looked exhausted despite the good front they were putting up.

“Well, we got burgers and sandwiches and fries and other good stuff,” Al said. “I can bring some down to you or if you want to go up—”

“You should go up,” Bex said. “Check on everyone for me. Please?”

“I can stay,” Mouse offered. “You guys go ahead and I’ll grab a bite later.”

“Maybe see if there’s any updates while we’re up there?” Chris said quietly and Will nodded.

Al knew they were still waiting to hear about Emery, but considering how badly injured she’d been, he figured no news was good news. No news meant they were still working on her and he could keep hoping.

She was a good kid. He was putting a lot of power into those hopes.

“Jay, Jay,” Bex mumbled at him as he stood and he moved closer, leaning in to hear what she had to say.

“Yeah, Bex?”

“Bring me fries.”

Jay barked out a laugh. “You want fries?”

“Yes.” Bex pulled down her mask to nod solemnly at him. “Fries will cure me.”

Al had to smother his own laughter as Jay immediately agreed and Will dragged a hand down his face.

“Seriously, guys?” Will groaned.

“No, Will, trust me,” Bex said to him, eyes wide. “It’s medicine.”

“It’s medicine, Will,” Jay repeated, biting his lip trying to maintain a serious face.

“You can have some fries if you keep your mask on until they arrive,” Will said, pointing a stern finger at Bex who immediately started putting it back in place. Mouse reached up to help her get it set, shaking his head as he smiled at her.

“Thank you,” she said, eyes fluttering as sleep started pulling her back under again.

“Alright, come on.” Chris stood up and reached out to help Cindy to her feet. “Let’s get some medicine and regroup.”

“We’re not calling it—okay, fine, yeah, let’s go,” Will said, rolling his eyes with a little chuckle. He held the door as they all filed out into the hallway.

Al waited until they were closer to the elevator to share the rest of his news. “Voight’s on his way back too. He’s got the detective in charge of the case with him and she’s gonna want to interview everyone.”

“Bex isn’t up for it,” Will said immediately. “Not tonight.”

“That’s what we figured, but maybe you? And Hailey?” They’d had a front row seat to things, so to speak, and getting that info while it was fresh in their minds would be important.

“Yeah,” Jay stepped onto the elevator and jabbed a finger at the button. “Might as well get it over with.”

“It’ll help Bex,” Al said quietly as he came to stand beside him. To them it was a clear-cut case of self defense, but put it in the hands of a scum bag lawyer and anything could happen. The more evidence they had on their side, the better.

“I know.” Jay sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “Whatever’s needed, count me in.”

Al clapped him on the shoulder in thanks. In solidarity. Whatever was needed went both ways.

The elevator dinged and they all shuffled off as the doors opened. The lounge where their crew was set up was only a little ways down the hall.

He gave Lexi a smooch on the head, checking in with her as he went by, but she seemed okay enough with Bex’s friends. She gave him a tiny head shake to let him know they hadn’t heard anything yet.

Still hope, he reminded himself.

Al let the others get Jay and his family settled with food. Platt was sitting off in a corner by herself looking like the last thing she wanted was company.

He made his way over.

“You get something to eat?” he asked as he settled into the chair beside her.

“Not hungry,” she said, shaking her head.

“You know the only way to get through a crisis is with a full stomach. I can grab you a sandwich or a muffin—”

“I said I’m not hungry, Al,” she snapped.

He held up his hands, eyebrows raised. “Alright. Let me know if you change your mind.” Al kept his mouth shut, waiting her out, until—

“I just—I keep going over it,” she said, staring hard at the carpet, tearing at the rim of the empty coffee cup in her hands. “Something should have come through, right? It should have hit my desk or been a phone call—something. So, what did I miss? When did I miss it? If we’d known Ty was out even an hour earlier—”

“Hey, hang on.” Al turned in his seat to face her. “This is not on you.”

“But if I missed—”

“You didn’t miss anything,” Al said. He’d put money on it. “This is—you know what it’s like. Agencies like Victim Services, they got no budget and hardly any staff all trying to cover a mountain of cases. Stuff falls through the cracks. We put the blame where it belongs.”

“I’d like to clock that prick myself,” she muttered.

“Get in line,” Al said. That got the tiniest grin out of her. He’d take it. He leaned back in his seat and stretched out his legs. “Still no word, eh?”

Trudy shook her head, sighing.

“Emery, she’s a good kid,” Al said. “She’s been helping Lexi.”

“Oh, yeah?”

He nodded. “Pretty sure Lexi’s boyfriend is on his way to being the same flavour of shitburger as Ty, but Emery kind of took her under her wing and helped her navigate some stuff.” Helped their whole family navigate some stuff. “Lex went with her mom today and grabbed her stuff from that loft place they were staying at. She’s moving back home.”

For the first time in months, Al felt like he could finally breath again.

Thanks to Emery.

“Yeah, she’s a good kid.”

***

Jay

Jay was digging into a burger, filling Sam in on Al’s news, when Julie showed up.

“Oh, food,” she said, collapsing into the chair on Sam’s other side and swiping a few of his fries. “Thank god.”

“You just got off shift?” Sam asked, handing over half of his sandwich to her.

Julie nodded, humming around her mouthful. “They finally sent someone to take over watch duty,” she said, grimacing. “Really glad to not be around that asshole anymore.”

“Hey!”

They all looked up to see Shay and Brett hurrying into the lounge. Shay bent down to give Julie a kiss while Brett detoured over to see Kev. “Any news?” Shay asked them.

“Nothing yet,” Jay said.

She sighed, pulling out her phone to check the time. “We dropped someone off downstairs and the Chief gave us permission to swing by and see how things were going, but we can’t stay long. We’ve got like, five minutes so talk fast. How’s Bex?”

“In and out.” Jay poked at his fries, making a mental note to swing by the caf for some fresh ones before he went back to her room. “They’ve got her on a lot of pain meds. Tomorrow’ll be worse.” He’d been in Bex’s place before and she did not have a fun road ahead.

“We’ll say hi before we go,” Shay said, munching on a fry she’d stolen from Sam. Jay shot him a commiserating look and shook some of his own onto the poor guy’s plate.

Shay stood up abruptly and Jay noticed everyone else starting to do the same, all of them going quiet. He looked around only to scramble out of his own chair to join Will.

Connor and Dr. Latham were walking down the hall, headed their way.

They both looked exhausted as hell, but beyond that, Jay couldn’t get a sense of whether or not they were coming to give them good news or bad.

Jay took a shaky breath and braced himself for the worst.

***

Will

Will searched Connor’s face as he approached, looking for some kind of clue for how things went, but Connor wouldn’t even meet his eyes.

Maybe that was enough of a clue right there.

Will’s stomach sank.

Fuck.

This—this wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. How was he supposed to go down and tell Bex that…that her friend was dead.

Will honestly didn’t know if he could.

He looked back at Connor wishing he could wrap him up in the hug they both desperately needed when he realized—Connor wasn’t avoiding his eyes. He was searching the crowd.

Looking for Bex.

Will caught the flicker of alarm the passed over his face when he realized she wasn’t there. Then he sought out Will, brows pulled together in a frown.

‘Long story’, Will mouthed at him. ‘Later.’

Connor frowned even further, but nodded…and gave Will the tiniest of grins.

Oh.

His brain had barely wrapped around the emotional one-eighty it was going through when Dr. Latham cleared his throat.

“Family of Emery Hughes?”

“Here,” Kira said, voice thick with anxiety as she pushed to the front of the group. “It’s, uh, all of us. We’re her family. Is she—is Emery okay?”

“Ms. Hughes successfully made it through surgery,” Dr. Latham said, pausing while the wave of excitement and relief passed through their little group. “Her injuries and the amount of blood lost were quite severe though and she coded a number of times during her procedure. The next forty-eight hours will be crucial. We’ll be keeping a close eye on her.”

“Are we allowed to see her?” Malia asked.

“Not yet,” Dr. Latham said. “She has some post-op procedures to go through and then she’ll be moved to the ICU. Visitors will be allowed there on a limited basis. Dr. Rhodes can answer any further questions. Thank you.” He nodded at them all before walking away.

There was a moment of calm while everyone took that in and then they all converged on Connor, asking question after question which he answered as best he could. The problem was, in a situation like this, most of the answers were ‘we don’t know’ and ‘we’ll have to wait and see.’

After getting what details they could, it devolved into variations on the same questions which was helping no one.

“Okay, back up, back up,” Will said, wading in to give Connor some space. “We know all we can so far. Sit tight, make sure you get something to eat, and someone will be by to let us know when Emery can have visitors. I’ve got to fill Connor in on…everything else so just…give us a moment. Please.”

Kira and Malia darted in to give Connor hugs and whispered thanks, but then joined the rest of them in taking a seat. Chris and Cindy gave him hugs next. “Make sure you get something to eat too,” Cindy said to him before following Chris back to their spot by Trudy and Al.

He looked over at Will, more than a bit bewildered. “Fill me in on what? Where’s Bex? What happened?”

“Come over here.” Will grabbed his hand and took him over to a quieter corner of the lounge. Jay followed. Between the two of them, they managed to relay the full story of what had gone down leaving Connor even paler than before.

“So, uh, she’s been admitted?” Connor asked, closing his eyes briefly as he rubbed at his forehead. “But she’s okay?”

“She will be.” Will scooched closer to wrap an arm around his shoulders.

“You want to go down and see for yourself?” Jay asked as he stood up.

“Yes,” Connor said, voice cracking. He pressed his face into his hands. “Oh, my god, this day.”

“We’ll go in a bit,” Will whispered to Jay who nodded and backed away. “Hey.” Will leaned in to rest his head against Connor’s. “Let’s go somewhere private?”

Connor nodded and together they ducked down the hall into the thankfully empty nurses’ lounge.

As soon as the door was shut behind him, Connor was pacing the room. “We almost lost her so many times,” he said, scrubbing a hand over his face. “At one point, I thought—I thought we wouldn’t get her back. Latham tried to kick me out and I fought him every time. Hard. Pretty sure I’m getting written up for that, but I couldn’t leave her—I couldn’t—” He stopped suddenly and turned to Will, tears filling his eyes. “I told him she wasn’t family, Will, I said—”

“It was the only way he would’ve let you in there,” Will said, fully understanding Connor’s angst over that. They might not be related by blood, but over the past few months, he and Connor and Bex and Emery had become their own weird little family unit. “You did what you had to, Con. You saved her.”

The tears finally fell then as Connor face-planted into Will’s neck, wrapping his arms around him and Will hugged him back tight.

They stood there like that for a long while as Will let himself have a good cry of his own.

They weren’t okay. Not yet.

But they would be.

***

Connor

Connor pulled away eventually, wiping at his cheeks as he sniffled. “I can’t believe I missed everything with Bex too,” he said. “You said she’s got a pulmonary contusion? How often are they checking her stats? Is the bleed—”

“Babe.” Will took his hands and gave them a squeeze. “We’ve been on top of it, don’t worry. She’s been checked multiple times and Dr. Fahir is keeping a close eye on her.”

Right. They would’ve had to hand her off from the ED staff. Part of Connor hated that they couldn’t be the ones looking after her, but he’d crossed paths with Dr. Fahir a few times and she was excellent. At least Bex was in good hands.

And they could still check in on her.

“Let’s go see her,” he said, swooping in for one more hug from Will. “We can let her know about Emery.”

“It’ll be a big weight off of her mind.” Will held him close, giving him a quick kiss before releasing him. “She asks if there’s any news every time she wakes up.”

They headed back out to the lounge to let everyone know where they were going and Jay hopped up to come with them.

“I want to make sure Mouse goes and gets something to eat,” he said on the way to the elevator. “You guys should too after you’ve seen Bex.”

“What is it you and Bex say?” Will said, waving a hand as he searched for the words. “Okay, Mama Chicken.” He laughed while Jay rolled his eyes.

“Bex is too drugged up to boss anyone around so someone has to do it,” Jay said.

“Too drugged up to boss anyone around?” Will smirked at him. “I seem to recall a demand for fries earlier…”

“Ah, crap.” Jay reached over and hit the button for the caf floor. “Forgot about that.”

“It’s Bex’s medicine,” Will told Connor, managing to hold a serious face for about two seconds before his lips started to twitch.

Connor laughed, leaning into his side. Oh, she was definitely drugged up. An under-the-influence Bex was a snacky Bex.

They got off on Bex’s floor, leaving Jay to his fry mission, and headed for her room. Will knocked quietly before letting them in.

Bex was sleeping and Connor—he was grateful for that. He needed a minute to get himself together. Will and Jay had both been clear about her injuries and he’d seen Emery for himself, but the double whammy of seeing Bex right after all of that…it was a bit overwhelming.

He grabbed Will’s hand, squeezing it as they came over to the bed.

“The doc came by while you guys were away,” Mouse said quietly. “She said Bex’s stats looked pretty good and said she could ditch the mask for this tube-y thing.” He gestured at the nasal cannula.

“That’s good,” Will said. He shot Connor a little smile. “She kept taking it off to talk anyway.”

“Any, uh, any news about Emery?” Mouse asked. “Bex was asking again.”

“Yeah, actually.” Connor grinned at him, happy to be able to share some good news after what they’d all been through. “She’s in recovery right now. Still going to be touch and go for awhile, but I’m hopeful.”

“Wha’s going on?” Bex blinked at them groggily. Her eyes landed on Connor and they widened as she focused on him. “Connor! What’s happening? How’s—ah!” She clutched her side, groaning from the pain of trying to sit up. Mouse beat him and Will to it as he helped ease her back onto her pillow.

Will made space for Connor to move up on the other side of the bed and get closer to her.

“Emery made it through surgery,” Connor told her, getting right to the point so she’d hopefully relax a little bit.

“She did?” Bex asked, voice shaky. She reached out with a bandaged hand to clutch at his. “She’s okay?”

“We need to keep an eye on her,” Connor said. He didn’t want to lie in case things took a turn. He was hoping for the best, but he was also well aware of the risks. “She lost a fair amount of blood, Bex, and the knife hit her lungs and intestine and almost hit her heart. We had to do a lot of repairs. We’ll be watching for infection, further bleeding—the next couple of days will be critical and we’ll be keeping her sedated so she can heal.”

“Oh, god.” Bex’s head fell back against the bed, tears streaming down her cheeks. “So, she’s—she’s not okay—”

“She’s alive,” Connor said firmly. “We’re doing everything we can to keep her that way and I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but we’re pretty determined around here.”

That got a weak laugh out of her.

Connor gently squeezed her hand. “I’ll be with her as much as I can,” he said. “You focus on resting and getting yourself healed up.”

“Okay.” Bex sniffed. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to heal without fries though.”

“Jay is literally getting them as we speak,” Will exclaimed. “Despite my better judgement, I might add.”

Bex beamed at him before turning back to Connor. “Thank you,” she said, smile still a bit wet. “For saving her. I don’t know what I’d do—I just—” She sighed as she held out her arms. “I just really need a hug now please.”

“Good because I do too.” Connor leaned in for the most careful hug he could possibly give her. “Love you, Bex,” he whispered in her ear.

“Love you too,” she whispered back.

“Knock, knock,” Jay called out as he popped his head through the door.

“Fries!” Bex cheered.

Connor released Bex and cleared out of the way for the treasured snack. “She’s in better spirits than I thought she’d be,” he murmured to Will who raised an eyebrow at him.

“Pretty sure the pain meds and the shock are holding back the worst of it,” Will said quietly. “I think it’s going to hit her hard sooner rather than later.”

“We’ll help her through it,” Connor said. “In the meantime…”

“We have fries,” Will finished for him with a little grin.

***

Bex

Bex didn’t care what Will said. These fries were making her feel at least thirty percent better.

Jay had managed to convince him and Connor to go and take a break and grab a bite to eat. Now he was working on Mouse.

“I’ll stay right here,” Jay said. “It’s been hours since lunch, man. You need to get something.”

“I recommend the fries,” Bex told him.

“Yes,” Mouse said, lips twitching. “A few times now.” His phone beeped and he pulled it out to check the text, frowning down at the screen.

“Everything okay?” Bex asked, mentally crossing her fingers that it was because they really didn’t need anymore disasters today.

“Yeah, uh, Ed’s here,” Mouse said, sounding more than a little surprised by that. “I texted him to let him know what was going on and I guess he wanted to check on us in person?”

“Aw, that’s nice,” Bex said. She liked Ed. “He’s nice. You should go say thank you.”

“You heard the lady,” Jay said, nodding at the door. “Take a little break, Mouse. We’ll be here when you get back.”

Mouse looked torn, glancing between her and Jay and his phone. “I can just text him,” he began and Bex reached out to pat at his arm.

“I’ll be fine,” she said. “Jay’s here. You should have snacks. Snacks are good.”

“You make a pretty good case for them.” Mouse smiled down at her, brushing her hair back from her forehead before leaning in to give her a kiss. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

“Take a proper break,” Bex said, trying to make sure he was listening because this was important.

“I’m listening,” Mouse whispered back. He chuckled a bit and oh, jeez—was she talking her thoughts again? “Yeah,” he said. “It’s okay. I like it.” He gave her one more kiss before straightening up and giving Jay one of those back-slappy bro hugs they did. “I’ll be back soon,” he promised.

Jay plopped down into the empty seat on her right once Mouse left, leaning back with one foot up on the edge of the bed. “How are those fries?” he asked, grinning at her.

“Best fries of my life,” she said, nudging the container along the little table in his direction. “Want some?”

“Nah, I grabbed some food upstairs. Thanks though for offering to share the precious.” His laugh turned into a giant yawn. “Oh, man. ‘scuse me.”

Bex tilted her head and took a good look at him. He was putting on a good show with the jokes and the smiles, but his eyes were red, his shoulders were tight, and he looked about two seconds away from passing out in his chair. “You can take a nap on the couch if you want.”

“Hm?” Jay straightened up, shooting her a look. “A nap? No, no, I’m good. Happy to hang out right here.” His eyes passed over here, pausing on all the marks she was sporting. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said softly.

“You know I’m not going anywhere either,” she blurted out, her filter apparently completely off.

Jay stilled. “I know—”

“I mean, I’m okay—or I’m going to be and you don’t have to worry—”

“Bex.” Jay lowered his foot and sat forward in his chair, catching her gaze in his. “I’m always gonna worry. That’s just how it is.”

A wave of guilt rose up in Bex for what she’d put him through today. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. He opened his mouth and she shook her head before he could argue. “No, just listen,” Bex said. She held out her bandaged hand and he took it carefully, gently squeezing her fingertips. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you today and that you had to hear…everything. I can’t—I’m not sorry for going in because I had to, Jay. I couldn’t leave her alone. I couldn’t—”

“I know,” Jay said quickly. “I get it. I do.”

“I just—I’m sorry you had to go through that,” she said. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

“You’re sorry—” Jay’s voice caught and he shook his head. “Bex, you did nothing wrong, okay? You were—oh, my god, you were so brave. You saved Emery’s life. I’m sorry. I tried to get there as fast I could, but I’m sorry you were alone with him for so long—”

“No,” Bex cut him off as forcefully as she could. “You were the reason I could fight back. It was your training—you and Hailey—and knowing that you were coming? That—the whole time, that helped keep me going. So, thank you.”

Jay let out a shaky breath and swiped at the tears streaming down his face. “Scared the shit out of me, you know that?”

Bex nodded, tugging on his hand. “C’mere. Hug time.”

He moved in for one, mindful of her injuries, and gave her a little squeeze.

“You know I love you, right?” she whispered.

“Always,” he said. “I love you, too.”

“Don’t tell Will,” Bex said as he pulled away. “But I think the hugs might be working better than the fries.”

“How about both,” Jay laughed as he fell back into his seat. “Both sounds good to me.”

“Jay Halstead.” Bex fished out a fry and saluted him with it. “Certified genius.”

He snatched one up for himself and popped it in his mouth. “Hey.” His eyebrows flew up. “Those are good.” He reached for another one and Bex tried to bat his hand away.

“Noooo, not my medicine.”

***

Jay

“Who in their right mind left the two of you alone in here?” Chris called out over their laughter as he and Cindy came into the room.

“Ooooh,” Bex clutched at her side, heaving a breath. “People need to stop making me laugh.”

Crap. Jay instantly sobered, checking the numbers on her monitor like he knew what the hell he was even looking for. “Are you okay? Should I call someone?”

“I’m fine.” Bex waved him back into his seat. “I’m just sore. And I’d also probably be better if someone stopped stealing my fries.”

“Doctor’s orders were to rest, missy,” Cindy said sternly as she came over to press a kiss onto Bex’s forehead. “I’m heading home to tuck in the kids and grab some sleep, but I’ll be back first thing in the morning.”

“Okay,” Bex said. “Thank you for being here.”

“Oh, sweetheart, of course.” Cindy shot a look at Jay and Chris. “Take good care of her while I’m gone.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jay nodded.

Chris and Cindy gave them both hugs; Chris promising to be back after he walked Cindy out to the van. Jay was barely settled back in his chair when Will entered.

“That was a fast meal,” Jay said.

Will shrugged. “Connor wanted to get back up to check on Emery and make sure her post-op is going well. And I wanted to get back to Bex.”

“Awwwwww,” Bex said around a mouthful of fry.

“No idea why,” Will rolled his eyes with a laugh.

Jay’s phone pinged and he pulled it out of his pocket. “Well, you have good timing,” he said as he scanned the message. “Voight’s here with the detective working the case. She wants to talk to us.”

“Me?” Bex asked quietly.

“No, not yet,” Jay said, quick to reassure her. “Your interview can wait a day or two and you’ll have someone with you for it, don’t worry.”

“Go on and see what she has to say,” Will said to him. “I’m good to hang out here.”

Jay couldn’t lie; he wanted to hear what this detective had planned. “If you’re okay with it—”

“Go.” Bex shooed at him. “We’re fine.”

“Okay, okay.” He gave them both hugs and headed for the door, calling over his shoulder. “Let Mouse know when he gets back!”

Voight had taken over a conference room the next floor up so Jay took the stairs, not having the patience to wait for the elevator. Everyone was already gathered there along with a few people he didn’t recognize.

“Jay, c’mere a sec,” Voight waved him over. “This is Detective Medeiros. She’s handling the case.” A dark-haired woman with kind eyes standing beside him offered a hand to Jay.

“Nice to meet you,” Jay said as he shook it.

“Likewise.” She took a step back to look around the room. “Now that we’re all here, let’s get started.” Detective Medeiros made her way to the front of the group. “First of all, I want to thank the Intelligence Unit for your fast response and for securing the scene. Excellent work all around.”

There were a few solemn nods, but Jay knew they were all dealing with the same lingering feelings he was. Fast, but not fast enough.

“My team and I will be meeting with everyone for interviews,” she continued. “The name of the game here is thoroughness so be prepared for that.” A gritty smile spread across her face. “We’re going to nail this bastard to the wall.”

Jay straightened up from where he’d been leaning against the wall, a matching smile forming on his own face.

Welcome to the team, Detective Medeiros.

***

Sam

The nurse led them over to the ICU and showed them Emery’s room. Kira and Sam had been elected first visitors by their group and Sam was both grateful and terrified.

He wanted to see her. Wanted to be able to reassure himself that she was still here, but—

The way she’d looked the last time he’d seen her.

Feeling her ribs crack under his hands as he tried to force life back into her.

He wasn’t sure if he could if he could see her right know, knowing he’d been a part of the damage she faced.

Kira grabbed his hand, giving it a squeeze and giving him no choice as she pulled him forward.

“Come on,” she whispered. “We need to let her know we’re here. Tell her she’s not alone.”

Sam nodded, managing to force his feet to follow Kira into the room because no matter what he was feeling, the last thing he wanted Emery to feel ever again was alone.

***

Will

Will settled into the chair beside Bex, chuckling at the dopey smile she gave him. “What?”

“You’re a good brother,” she said.

Maybe now.

Not always.

“Stop that,” she said. “Stop with the face. And the thinking.” She frowned at him. “You’re awesome. And you help me. And I love you.”

“You’re awesome too,” Will said, reaching out to give her arm a little squeeze. “And you help me.” His throat started to get tight. “And I love you, too.”

He still couldn’t believe they’d almost lost her today.

He didn’t even want to imagine what that would have been like—couldn’t begin to wrap his brain around it.

“Well, that’s good then,” Bex said. “I like that.”

“Me too, Bex.”

They sat quietly like that for a few minutes, Will holding on to her arm, letting himself be sure of the fact that she was there when Bex piped up again.

“Will?”

His lips twitched. He knew that tone. “Yeah, Bex?”

“Will you get me some water? My medicine made me thirsty.”

“Oh, really?” Will laughed. “Your ‘medicine’ made you thirsty. What a shock.”

“Willllllllll.”

“I’m going!” He stood up and grabbed the pitcher from beside her bed. “I’ll even get you some ice from the nurses’ lounge since you like it cold.”

“Yes,” Bex cheered. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” Will was pretty sure he was going to be doing anything to put a smile on her face for the foreseeable future.

He was just grateful she was still here to smile at him.

***

Voight

Detective Medeiros had stepped away to take a call, but her raised voice caught his attention.

“Why the hell am I only being told about this now?” she snarled into her phone. “I want additional units sent here—no, you have no way of knowing that. He could already be here. Additional units. Now. We need to cover the entrances and do a sweep. Tell them to report to me as soon as they arrive.”

Voight stepped over to her as she ended the call with a frustrated huff. “Something I should know about?”

Her head snapped up and her lips pressed into a hard line. “Yes, actually,” she said. “You and your people.”

“Twenty-one,” Voight called out, waving them over. “With me.”

Once everyone was gathered, Detective Medeiros took a deep breath before addressing them. “That was the team at Lakeshore,” she said. “Ty Anderson escaped police custody.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Halstead exclaimed. “How—”

“Let her explain and then we’ll figure out a plan,” Voight said, holding up a hand.

“The officer guarding Anderson uncuffed him when he took him to the adjoining washroom,” Detective Medeiros said, ignoring their muttered curses at that bit of news. “Anderson got the jump on him and knocked him out. He stole his uniform, gagged him, and left him cuffed to a support railing. They estimate he’s been in the wind for at least thirty minutes.”

“Fuck,” Halstead muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. “Fuck.”

“Wait,” Burgess said. “Stole his uniform—does that mean—”

“He also has the officer’s gun, yes,” Medeiros confirmed.

What a friggin’ shitshow.

“You got extra units coming?” Voight asked her and Medeiros made a face.

“I’m working on it,” she said. “The Lakeshore team is pressing for units to go to cover the bus and train stations, but I don’t think he’s running away.”

“He wouldn’t,” Upton spoke up. “He’ll be coming here. For Emery.”

“We can’t afford to wait for the extra units,” Medeiros began.

Voight nodded. “Anything you need,” he said. “My team and I are here to help.”

“Let’s start a co-ordinated sweep and I’ll loop in hospital security,” she said.

His team instantly leapt into action, picking up on the plan and piecing out the floors for the sweep. Voight watched them dive in with grim satisfaction.

That asshole Ty wasn’t going to cause anymore damage.

Not if they had any say in it.

***

Mouse

Mouse sat at a table in the cafeteria with Ed, working his way through a BLT and what was probably his eighth cup of coffee of the day. He’d just finished filling Ed in on the details of everything that’d happened and Ed clearly needed a minute to let it all sink in so Mouse was taking the opportunity to eat.

Turned out he was actually pretty starving.

“Christ, Mouse,” Ed finally spoke. He blinked, shaking his head. “That is—wow, man. I’m glad Bex is going to be okay and I—I really hope her friend makes it. That’s some heavy shit.” Ed put his elbows on the table and leaned in. “How are you?”

That was a loaded question. Mouse slowly chewed his last bite as he thought it over.

“Still freaking out a bit,” he said, trying to be honest. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared. And I—”

“You what,” Ed prompted him.

“I feel stupid,” Mouse confessed.

Ed frowned at him. “Why?”

“I know you guys said all of that stuff about how anything could happen to anyone, but I—I really never thought we’d be here…like this,” he said. “I always thought if anyone would be hurt, it was going to be me somehow. Me putting Bex through that. And now—not that I think Bex is putting me through this, you know—none of this is her fault—I just, I never really thought through being on this side of things and I-I don’t want to screw it up. I want to be there for her and help her and help her through this, but what if I make it worse or—”

“Mouse,” Ed interrupted him. “You’re not going to screw it up, bud. You’re already doing the most important thing. You’re here. That’s what matters most, okay?”

“I hate seeing her hurt,” Mouse said. “Not just in pain, but scared and upset, you know? I wish I could fix it. I know, I know—” He waved off whatever Ed was going to say next. “I know I can’t fix it and I know being here is helping her.” He sighed. “I just—I never want her to hurt.”

“One of the hardest parts of loving someone,” Ed said quietly. “You really are helping her just by being here though. I promise.” He eyed Mouse across the table. “It’s a stressful thing. How are you handling that side of it?”

Meaning, how was his sobriety handling it…

“It’s weird,” Mouse said and Ed gestured for him to go on. “Part of me was also sure something like this would send me spinning back off into, uh, bad habits, you know? But I don’t—the only urge I’m feeling is to be with Bex. Make sure she’s okay.”

“I get that.” Ed nodded. “And I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, but make sure you get your breaks in. Eat. Sleep. Don’t burn yourself out. If you guys need anything, we’re all happy to help out too. No question.”

“Bex was declaring what a nice guy you were before I came down here,” Mouse told him with a grin.

“Ah. Finally,” Ed said. “A sign of good taste from her.”

“Ha-ha.” Mouse tossed his napkin at him with a half-hearted throw. They didn’t chat for much longer—Mouse was itching to get back to Bex—and as they were leaving the caf, Ed handed over the tote bag he’d been carrying.

“From Lucy,” he explained as Mouse peeked inside. It looked like a bunch of…toiletries? “She thought you and Bex could use some supplies. We weren’t sure how long Bex would be here and you know how grungy you start to feel even after a day. There’s a whole bunch of stuff in there to freshen up or whatever. Socks too because Lucy said it’s always freezing in this place.”

Mouse couldn’t speak for a moment. It was times like this when it hit him how unbelievably lucky he’d been to find these people. “Thank you,” he managed to get out. “I—thank you, Ed. To you and Lucy. All of you.”

“We’re here for you, kid.” Ed patted his back with a gruff nod. “You and Bex.”

They walked out into the hallway and nearly ran into Kim. “Oh, Mouse,” she said, eyes going wide. “I didn’t realize you were down here and not with Bex—”

“What’s going on?” Alarm bells were going off in Mouse’s head. “What’s wrong?”

Kim got halfway through a story about Ty escaping custody and possibly heading their way before Mouse was running for the stairwell, Ed hot on his heels.

A floor away and out of the loop.

Again.

Mouse picked up the pace.

He wasn’t going to let anything stop him from getting to her this time.

***

Bex

The door to her room creaked open and Bex looked up. “Fastest water retrieval ever…” The words died on her lips when it wasn’t Will who came in.

It was Ty.

“What? How—”

“Nice to see you too, Bex,” he said, limping closer to the bed. He grinned ruefully at her. “Maybe not so nice since the last time we saw each other, you gave me this.” He reached up to poke at the bandage on the side of his head and Bex froze.

He had a gun in his hand.

She blinked at him, trying not to move. Now that she looked closer, he was wearing a patrol uniform that clearly didn’t fit him very well. What the hell was going on? How did he get away?

Oh, god, Will was coming back soon. He couldn’t hurt Will.

She had to get rid of him.

“What do you want, Ty?” Bex asked, her voice coming out a thousand times steadier than she felt.

“Emery,” he said, looming over her. “Where is she?”

No, no, no, Bex couldn’t let him anywhere near Emery.

“I—I don’t know—”

“Don’t lie to me, Bex.” Ty reached out, placing a hand where he’d kicked her and slowly pressed down. Hard.

She cried out, but Ty instantly placed his other hand over her mouth. The one holding the gun. Bex flinched back against the cold bite of metal against her lips as Ty shushed her.

“You need to be quiet, sweetheart,” he said, his thumb running through the tears running down her cheek. “We don’t want anyone coming in here and getting in the way.” He pushed at her side again and Bex stifled a scream as she felt something shift. “One more time. Where’s Emery?”

The sharpness of the pain cut through her foggy brain and Bex gathered herself. He was going to have to try and get through her and she’d already shown him she wouldn’t make it easy.

“She’s in the basement,” Bex snapped out. “Go down there and ask for the morgue.”

Ty stared at her before stepping back with a scoff. “Very funny. Try again.”

“Do you see me laughing?” Bex let her eyes fill with more tears which wasn’t hard considering the stabbing pain coming from her side. “You got exactly what you wanted. You killed her.”

Her heart pounded in her chest as Ty stared at her with narrowed eyes. “Interesting,” he said, tilting his head. “I can’t quite tell if this is the truth or if you’re sending me on a wild goose chase. Trying to buy yourself some time so your cop brother can swoop in and save the day again?”

“I’m not lying,” Bex whispered. She kept his stare, letting every ounce of hatred she felt for him show through. “You killed her, you fucking asshole.”

His eyes darkened and he grabbed her un-splinted arm, jerking her upright. “Shut up,” Ty growled when she yelped at the sudden movement. “Here’s what we’re going to do. I’ll go on your little field trip, but you’re coming with me. Insurance for when the cops show up.” He dragged her forward and Bex couldn’t stop the cry that slipped out. “Come on. Get the fuck up.”

“What the hell are you doing?” a second voice rang through the room.

Will.

***

Will

Will’s heart pounded as he took in the scene he’d walked in on. Ty, trying to drag Bex out of her bed, with a gun in his hand.

A gun that was now pointed in Will’s direction.

“Walk away, man,” Ty said.

“Just go, Will,” Bex whispered. “Please, please, go.”

“Sorry,” Will said, carefully setting the water jug down on the nearest chair and then raising his hands in the air. “But I don’t think I can do that.”

“Then you’re going to stay right there while Bex and I walk out that door,” Ty snapped out. He had an iron grip on Bex’s arm and kept jerking her forward, trying to get her on her feet. The leads connected to the monitor were getting pulled and her heart rate was going up. Alarms were going to go off any second sending an unsuspecting nurse their way.

“Where exactly are you two headed?” he asked, trying to wrack his brain for the safest way of getting out of this mess.

He wasn’t coming up with many options.

“Bex is going to show me the morgue,” Ty said. “She says that’s where Emery is. That true, Doc?”

Oh, smart, amazing Bex, thinking on her feet. “Yeah, it’s true,” Will said, frowning at Ty. “She didn’t make it through surgery. But…listen…”

Bex wasn’t the only one who could think on her feet.

“Taking Bex with you,” Will said. “That’s not going to get you to the morgue.” He shook his head, pointing at Bex. “You try dragging a patient down the hall like that, you’re going to get stopped before you get to the elevator.”

“So?” Ty gripped Bex closer. “Only need her for a shield anyway.”

“How about a shield and a cover story?” Will gestured to himself. “No one’s going to ask questions about an officer walking down the hall with a doctor. I can get you there.”

He’d figure out the rest on the way.

“Will,” Bex gasped out. “No.”

“You’ll get me down there,” Ty repeated. Slowly. Maybe his head injury was catching up with him. Will could try and use that in his favour.

“I can,” Will agreed. “On one condition; you don’t hurt Bex.”

Ty thought it over for a few seconds before he released Bex’s arm and shoved her back on the bed. “Deal,” he said. Will didn’t even get to breathe a sigh of relief before Ty was swinging his arm out and bringing the butt of the gun down over Bex’s head.

She slumped against the pillow, unconscious as a trickle of blood flowed down onto the fabric.

“You said you wouldn’t hurt her,” Will lurched forward.

He was stopped in his tracks by Ty leveling the gun at him and clicking off the safety. “Be happy I didn’t kill her,” he said. “Now move.”

Ty stepped towards him, shoving the gun into Will’s side and propelling him toward the door. Will opened it and they moved out into the hallway.

As he’d predicted, no one gave them a second look.

This time of night, there weren’t too many people around anyway, thank goodness. There was the faint sound of voices coming down the hall and Will picked up the pace. He didn’t want anyone else caught up in whatever was about to happen.

The two of them walked quickly down the hall toward the elevators. It was dinging before Will had a chance to touch the call button and the doors opened up—

To reveal Connor inside.

No, no, no.

He smiled when he saw Will; his greeting falling away as he spotted Ty next. Confusion quickly gave way to anger as Connor recognized him. “You—”

No.

“Enough of this shit,” Ty said, pointing the gun at Connor’s head.

Time slowed down for Will.

No. not him. no. no. no—

His body was moving before his mind could catch up with it and he grabbed Ty’s arm, shoving it down as he threw himself between Connor and the gun.

Hoping, praying he was fast enough.

***

The crack of a gunshot echoed down the hallway.

Click here to read Chapter Six. Click here to read Chapter Seven.

Click here to read That Herrmann/Halstead DNA on ao3:

And here is the tag list (let me know if you wish to be added or removed):

@sorry-i-spaced, @thegirlwhowishedeveryonelived, @ivyalmighty, @thewannabewriter, @lexhalstead3, @multifandomgrl08, @foxes-and-cats, @sensitivemallysix, @thebewingedjewelcat, @emme-looou, @trulylavandedarling

#a herrmann/halstead production #one chicago #chicago fire #chicago pd #chicago med #rebecca 'bex' herrmann #jay halstead #oc character #will halstead #christopher herrmann #greg “mouse” gerwitz x original female character #greg “mouse” gerwitz #greg gerwitz #whump #hurt/comfort #trauma #whump fic #angst

33 notes · View notes