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kchuarts · 4 years

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Flowers in Blood

A/N: A new fanfic that I couldn't wait to jump on!! This one is very much different from the ones I normally write. I am also introducing a new OC. This takes place in 2018 going into 2019

Summary: Angela Burr takes on a case that had been cold since the 70's as there is a sudden spark in activity relevant to the case. She calls a friend from across the pond and gets a hold of Katie O'Connor, a 24 soon to be 25 year old American woman for the job. The case is assigned to Katie and Jonathan for them to solve and bring down the leader of an unnamed group that was involved in the crimes back then. Unfortunately for Jonathan, Katie is connected to a friend of his time while in Iraq that did not end well.

Warnings: Cursing and mentions of assault

Taglist: @lucywrites02 *(Let me know if you’d like to be on the tag list!!)*

Chapter 1: Poppy

A loud rapping at the door of Angela Burr’s special agency causes the Director to jump from her seat. “For fuck sake, can’t a mum have one minute of peace to ‘erself?” Angela huffed, getting up quickly and noticing Rob wasn’t at all around which irked the tired woman further. “Better have a good excuse for why he isn’t here.” She muttered under her breath before opening the door being met with a shorter, pale skinned woman. Angela’s brows knit together in confusion as she studied the young woman, “Green eyes, short brown hair, looks 157 centimeters in height-” She stopped as she noticed the woman give her an odd look. “What? I’m just trying to get a better look at ya. I dunno if you are who we sent for, you’re so short! Wait, wait. I got it, you’re American is that it? Your unit of measurements are-” She sighed and smacked her own forehead as her thoughts finally caught up to her. “Right! Dear, I am so terribly sorry. Come in, come in. You are exactly who we called for over from across the pond. I swear I must still have a pregnancy brain even after three bloody years. Katelyn O’Connor is it?” She waved her hand over to a seat. The American brunette woman grimaced at her full name and nodded, “I uh, sorry, I prefer Katie.” She cleared her throat and held her hand out, shaking Angela’s hand. “No, no! That was my mistake, dear. Oh for fuck sake Rob! It’s about damn time you got in here!! What’s your excuse for your lack of being here?” Her large brown eyes watched as her assistant, Rob Singhal walked in. The Indian man froze and looked from Angela to Katie in confusion then down at the tray of coffees he held. “Shite! Ang, you coulda said we were gonna have company!! Apologies, miss. Next time I’ll get you tea or coffee.” He practically slammed the hot beverage in front of Angela and sighed with great irritation. Katie waved her hand as a gesture of thanks and then looked down into her lap as she fiddled with her fingers.

Angela looked up at Rob, raising her brows at his attitude. “There’s extra cream in it?”

The assistant’s hands dropped to his sides and he let out a groan, “Not even a thank you or are you ok?! I stood in line for twenty god damn minutes for your bitter rubbish and some prick hit my new chaps with his fucking bicycle!” He pointed to his pants aggressively, a large stain apparent on the light khakis. Angela rolled her eyes, taking a test sip and nodding “Alright good, there’s cream. Last time the bastards didn’t. Sorry about your pants, sweetheart but you wasted twenty minutes of preparation for our new agent!” She turned to the younger woman seated in front of her. Katie looked up and gave a warm smile, smoothing her pencil skirt out. “It’s alright Mrs. Burr-”,

“Angela, please. I had my first and last kid three years ago, I already feel old as is when I get the “Mrs.” added. Now, back to business.” Angela shuffled through documents and licked her finger to sift through properly. This was Katie’s first time out of America and she would definitely be lying if she said she hadn’t gotten a major culture shock. London was somewhat similar to New York in a manner of ways; for one thing, the people were always very loud and blunt. While London did feel more tame, it still had that familiar city smell and livelihood to it. This was certainly a new experience for a girl from a small village in Michigan, USA. “Sorry ‘bout that, Miss O’Connor. By the way, you got any relatives over in Ireland? Your last name is extremely Irish- Oh there I go again, getting off track. Sorry it’s nearly getting time for me to be checking in on the babysitter to see how my little one is doing.” Angela cleared her throat and handed Katie the files on a peculiar case that had gone cold. Katie frowned as she skimmed over the pages and gathered information on ten very high scale murders of wealthy families. Each page had a familiar theme of illegal trade, fraud, weapons, drugs, and prostitution. She noticed that there was a mysterious yet oddly recognizable symbol carved into the skin of the inner forearm of the husbands. Katie placed the photo evidence down and tapped on the sigils, “I’ve seen this before in my lessons. Mrs- Angela, why are you showing me such an old case? No one has been able to figure anything out about these crimes since the Seventies…” She leaned back and raised a brow. The older woman nodded and grabbed a stack of papers, plopping them in front of the young American. “Not until now.”

As Katie skimmed over the pages, she noticed that the activity of this particular group had risen up again and even had a public support group. The sigil was much more clear now and shaped into something more recent. It was of a Poppy flower and now that Katie thought about it, she remembered that a single poppy flower was always left behind at the crime scene. A chill ran down her spine as awful memories of her ex boyfriend Travis resurfaced. She knew there was no correlation between the two, but Travis always seemed to love giving her that type of flower and he even had a tattoo on his neck of one. To make matters worse, during her older brother Cameron’s funeral, there were poppies in some of the bouquets before he was laid to rest. It was a closed casket ceremony as he had died courageously while serving.

-flash-

“TRAVIS STOP!! GET AWAY FROM ME!” Katie screamed, kicking her legs as hard as she could to get the man off of her. Exhaustion was coming over the 20 year old girl as she had been struggling for an hour to get away from her abuser.

-flash-

A gag was shoved into Katie’s mouth with her hands and legs bound. The sounds of a blade ripping her clothes off filled the room along with the sound of her whimpers. “No one is ever gonna want you, baby girl. Not after I’m done with you. There’s no one for you to turn to, not even your dead big brother.”

“Katie?”

The green eyed woman gasped, coming out of her trance and quickly wiping a stray tear away from her cheek. “I-I’m ok, Angela. I just… I really hate poppies.” She smiled sadly, handing the paper back to her boss and taking a deep breath. “I can tell… I know we’ve just met, but if you need to talk about it you can. I see that you’ve some past trouble of sorts, I do apologize for requiring your services specifically, but I don’t think anyone else here can speak Japanese, Korean or” Angela looked down at her papers and scratched her head “Russian. Dear god and you’re only twenty four.” She whistled and nodded at the woman, impressed by her choice of studying harder languages. Thankful that the woman chose to not press further into her trauma, Katie sniffled and smiled at Angela. “I’m still learning Russian, but I think I can manage making my way through.” She nodded and sighed, that memory now seared into her brain after she had tried to bury it for good 5 years ago. “Well good because you’re going to be taking a little trip to Russia and eventually, Japan.” Angela noticed the sudden excitement in the young woman’s eyes and chuckled a little “Don’t get too excited, this is not any vacation. I understand that you are a rookie and this being your first true traveling experience, but don’t get cocky.” The chair she sat in scraped across the floor and she hoisted her purse onto her shoulder. “We will be discussing travel arrangements and the like tomorrow, but I’d like you to meet your partner today first. You two will be spending quite a bit of time together so it’s better to get used to each other now. Come along.” Angela hustled over to the door, checking her watch and noticing the time. She looked back up and eyed Rob, “Thank you for the coffee and sorry about your trousers. Have a nice night, sweetheart.” She waved with Katie following shortly behind, also waving goodbye to the assistant.

“Oh for the love of-” Angela huffed, scrambling to get her umbrella out of her purse and cursing under her breath as rain poured down on the two. “No one ever likes the rain here, it’s bloody awful.” She offered Katie to get under it. The green eyed woman obliged and rubbed her arms, the air hitting her with a bite. “I think I am used to it at least to some degree considering I grew up in Michigan. The weather there never knows what it wants to be!” Katie grimaced, continuing to rub her arms. Clearly, she had underestimated her choice in attire and was now suffering from it. She heard Angela give a little chortle and shake her head as they continued their journey to an apartment complex. The two women idly chatted on their walk to this strange building about Katie’s life as Angela wanted to get to know her better and genuinely seemed interested in her well being. “I cannot stand the thought of living in a country with a deranged clown for a leader. I mean, the mission at hand is not a pleasant one but at least you’re not having to deal with his bullshit. I reckon he’s more dangerous than this group we’re about to send you and Mr. Pine into.” The Director noticed her agent flinch and stumble for a moment. She placed a tender hand on her arm and stopped their walk, “Is something the matter dear?” Her voice softened. Katie nodded and sighed through her nose, “I wasn’t expecting to work with someone else let alone a man. I have issues with men, personal reasons I’d rather not get into.” She smiled wryly and felt the urge to cry build in her throat. “Oh. I’m sorry. Well, remember what I told you earlier, if you need to talk about it I will be more than happy to listen. Men are garbage.” She laughed, trying to lighten the mood and wrapping a comforting arm around the young woman’s shoulders. “However, Mr. Pine is not a part of the garbage I am referring to. I am hopeful that you will be comfortable around him. He is my pride and joy… And my kid too. Honestly, they’re both my kids even if one of them is 38 years old.”

Katie hoped that Angela was right and wanted to trust the woman. Those two years she had spent with Travis practically ruined her and how she viewed men. Hopefully, this Mr. Pine would help her heal and reshape her opinion.

Both women sighed as glorious heat hit their numb faces upon entering the building. “Your flat is going to be on the floor below Mr. Pine.” Angela looked at her watch and smiled with some hope, “I would perhaps suggest maybe grabbing a pint together seeing as it’s supper time. If you’re comfortable enough.” She added quickly, grabbing Katie’s arm as she noticed the slight shift of her body. Katie nodded and smiled back, shuddering the last remnants of the cold from outside. “I’m not a big drinker, but that does sound nice. I’d like to see a few of the older pubs before we go. I’ve always wanted to see the Tower of London and “haunted” locations.” She smiled more and chuckled at Angela’s unimpressed face. “Really? Oh you’re one of those spooky chasers or whatever they’re called. Well, I can assure you that London has plenty of that but for now we need to focus on the task at hand.” Angela pressed a button up to the 14th floor and walked in, holding the elevator door for Katie. The ride up had the American woman’s stomach in knots as each floor made a ding noise each time they advanced a level. “Uh, you said that Mr. Pine is 38 years old? H-How long has he been working for you?” Katie swallowed, trying to calm her nerves. “You know who Roper is? Richard Roper?” She raised her eyebrows at the girl. “I’ve heard about him and of his dealings, but other than that not much else.” Katie replied, shrugging. "Well Pine is the one who took him down. That case gave me the nerves it did. I'm just glad Pine got out and decided to stay with us instead of going back to being a night manager at hotels. Charming and handsome fellow he is. He even managed to snag Roper's girl for a while but it didn't last too long. Enough about him now, you're about to find out more on him soon." The elevator made the noise signaling they had reached their destination. Katie once again had to calm herself and shake any nerves off. She had to tell herself that things were going to be ok and that she had to act professional.

The sound of their footsteps padding along the wooden floor mingled in with the raindrops hitting the window at the end of the hall. “Here we are-” Angela said under her breath and knocked on the door, “Oi! Pine, you in there?” She waited for a moment before knocking on the door again before finally hearing footsteps. Several latches were undone before the man known as “Pine” finally opened the door. Katie’s heart stopped for a moment as this man was absolutely drop dead gorgeous. Her green eyes were wide as she took his appearance in from his lithe form, piercing blue eyes, dark blonde hair, chiseled jawline, and prominent forehead. Angela was right when she said he was handsome, but handsome was not a strong enough word for him. “Angela? Is there something wrong?” His deep voice caused chills to run through Katie’s body. Dear lord, not only was he stunning but his voice was enough to make a woman’s panties vanish. “No, no. Not at all. I’ve just come to introduce you to your partner for the mission ahead.” Angela stepped back, holding her arm out and slightly nudging Katie forward. Jonathan’s attention turned to the shorter woman in front of him and his expression softened a little. Shyly, Katie extended her hand out and gave a small smile “I’m Katie O’Connor uh, I have an extremely Irish name. It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Pine.” She blushed and chuckled nervously at her dumb joke. Katie felt like she was in high school all over again with how awkward she felt. The American woman flinched a little as Jonathan took her hand to shake it, her eyes quickly darting away before looking back at him. This man’s hand was incredibly warm and oddly comforting, which made Katie feel a little bad that she flinched. Pine noticed her flinch, but decided against questioning her on it as it was probably just a nervous tick. He flashed a smile and returned the chuckle at her dumb joke. “The pleasure is mine and yes it is extremely Irish.” He released her hand before turning to Angela, waiting for anything else for her to tell them so he could get back to packing.

“Now that we are all settled with introductions, I will be taking Katie to show her to the flat and then making my way to pick up my little one. I expect the both of you to be at my office at 6 AM sharp with your belongings packed and ready to go. I’m just praying for the love of anything living that the train to Moscow isn’t stalled. I’ll see you tomorrow, Pine. Come on then love! Let’s get you tucked in.” Angela turned, waving to Katie. The short brunette gave a smile to Jonathan and waved shyly before hastily heading back to Angela. The man watched as the two women walked down to the elevator and was puzzled by his boss’s choice in a partner. It wasn’t that he had anything against her pick, he was more than happy to have an attractive young lady on his team. He had to wonder why Katelyn O’Connor of all people though. Pine was very much aware of who this girl was and he slid back inside of his flat, closing the door and covering his face. Flashbacks of his time serving in Iraq surge forth and the screams of his squad echoed in his brain. Tears stung his eyes as guilt crawled up into his throat from the memory of leaving Katie’s older brother behind, as he begged for help while a bomb strapped to his chest ticked away. Pine would forever blame himself for his friend’s death and wished that he had been the one to die instead of Cameron.

Once Angela had bid her farewells after showing Katie to her new home, the young woman began to set up. She had not the faintest idea that she would be sharing a flat building with her partner let alone have it be someone intimidatingly handsome. Yet, there was something odd about Jonathan Pine that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. “Hey Cam.” She sighed, pulling a picture of her late brother out, placing it at her bedside. “I’m here in London, can you believe it? I’m out of that house and traveling the world!” She sat on her bed and smiled to the frame. “I know you wouldn’t be too happy with me sort of following you in your footsteps, but I wanted to be just like you. Mom and Dad were really hesitant at first at letting me go but I convinced them this is a chance for me to explore the world.” She picked the picture up and licked her finger, smudging some dirt from the glass off. Katie smiled sadly as she set the picture down and felt her chest and throat warm up from the oncoming tears. “I wish you were still here to see how far I’ve come. Shit, I-I even managed to escape Travis, even if you were long gone before him. I know you still watch over me and I know you would have probably been locked up if you got a hold of him.” She chuckled through the beginning of a sob before sniffling and wiping her eyes. “I gotta get going now. I’m going to Moscow tomorrow for the beginning of my mission. I’m pretty much all set but, my boss Angela told me I should probably try to get to know my partner… H-He seems nice.” Her hands clenched together as fear now made its course through her small frame. “I don’t think h-he’ll hurt me. He’s not Travis or those nasty old men from my retail days. No he’s not.” Katie gasped suddenly, noticing that her anxiety was getting the better of her and causing her to hold her breath. She shook her head and let out a quiet sob, sitting on the bed completely before pulling her knees in on herself. Who was she kidding? She was absolutely terrified to be alone with a man taller and stronger than her. Ever since she had left her abuser, not once did Katie even consider to look for another chance at romance. This only made her fear of men worse and she even lost a few friends because of how terrified she was to go out. It was only a year ago in 2018 that she finally decided to grow a backbone and shake off whatever fear she had. She would not let the past repeat itself and uncurled herself, smacking her face with her hands and taking a deep breath in. “You’re gonna be fine little fox.” She muttered to herself, using the endearing term her brother used to call her. Katie hopped off the bed and took one last look at herself in the mirror, grimacing at her puffy eyes. She would wait before going up to ask Pine if he wanted to grab something to eat.

After about 15 minutes later, Katie calmed down and fished her worry stone from her suitcase. Naturally, it was a Petoskey stone from a camping trip back home. She shoved it into her pocket before grabbing her jacket as she had underestimated London’s weather earlier. “Keys, phone, wallet, knife, spray, money, lock pick, ok I think I’m good.” She huffed, looking down at her attire she changed into as the skirt from earlier had proven to be a poor choice. Instead, she opted for a large hoodie, skinny jeans, sneakers, socks, jacket, and a tee shirt under her hoodie. She was cozy and felt that this was appropriate for the weather. Locking her door, she headed to the elevator and reached Pine’s floor. She felt less anxious than the first time she had walked down with Angela. Nervously, she raised her hand as she arrived at Pine’s flat and knocked on the wood door. “Uh, Pine?” her voice cracked and she shoved her hands into her pockets. Once again, several locks were unlatched before the door opened with Jonathan looking surprised to see her. “Oh, hey! Er, Katie yeah?” He gave a fake smile, trying to not think about her brother and his guilt over his death. “Y-Yeah! Uh you don’t have to but uh, Angela suggested that maybe uh… We go grab a pint? Maybe get to know each other a little before we buckle down? I-If not that’s totally cool, I get it.” The brunette held her hands up and gave an awkward grin. She low key hoped he would say no and save her the trouble of being a nervous wreck.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea actually.” He replied.

“What? Wait, you will? Great! Great… Do you need a sec?” She leaned back and forth on her heels, her stomach growling and also in knots from his answer.

Jonathan shook his head and opened his door, offering her to come in. It would sincerely be rude and weird of her to decline his offer so she obliged. When she brushed past him, Katie almost froze as he smelled faintly of cigarettes and a delicious cologne. The scent made her cheeks turn a bright pink and her head spin slightly. “So what state are you from?” He already knew the answer, he just had to play it low as he searched for his keys. “Michigan. I’m from Metamora which issss… Here.” She held her right hand up and pointed to the spot. Sometimes Katie was rather lucky she lived in the mitten shaped state as it was easy to point out where she lived. Pine gave a smile and chuckled a little at her literal handy map, “You can also use your left hand for the Upper Peninsula, yeah?” He raised his brows at her and chuckled again as she immediately held her left hand over her right. A smile cracked across her face at his amusement. “It’s really pretty in the fall where I’m from. My folks actually own a place up in Tawas which is here,” She pointed it out “And my grandparents own a place in Caseville here.” She moved her finger down. Finally, Pine found his keys and looked at Katie, nodding his head to the door. "So I assume you spent summers on the lake then? Which one is that, lake huron?" It was hard for Pine not to just tell her he already knew everything about where she grew up. Cameron always talked about Katie during their down time and how he loved his little sister. In fact, she was the reason he joined the army in the first place so he could protect her. Jonathan had seen many pictures of Katie as a child and seeing her now was almost surreal as she looked nothing like the pictures anymore; aside from the brown hair and large green eyes. She had grown up beautifully and Jonathan couldn't deny that she was quite a catch. He shook his head thinking if Cameron were still here he would kick his ass for even thinking about Katie like that.

"Yeah all the time. I was practically a fish and would come out a lobster from how burned I was." She laughed at a pleasant memory. "Anyways, I'll let you pick where to go since this is my first time outside of America." The shared feeling of discomfort eased out with the change of subject. After a few more minutes of walking, the pair finally made a decision and headed inside a cozy pub.

The ambience of an English pub was unlike anything that an American pub ever hoped to compare to. Katie looked around in awe as they were given a table to sit at. "You were certainly right about it being your first time out of the country. You look like a Deer in headlights." Pine snorted, nodding at the younger woman. The brunette shook her head and blushed a little at her companion's jeer. "Don't be making fun of me the minute we just met!" She smiled at Jonathan and laughed a little, feeling at ease with the weirdly relaxing atmosphere. "Sorry, my mistake. I should have said you look like a tiny deer in headlights." Pine grinned and flipped the menu open, amused at the pout he was given as a reaction. "Oh now you're going after my height? I totally didn't ask to get the shit end of the stick when it came to how tall I would be." Katie rolled her eyes and snorted. The two thanked their waiter as waters were brought over and placed their orders. Jonathan leaned forward a little, smirking "You could have asked whoever was giving you the "shit end of the stick" to perhaps lower it a bit-" he gave a chuckle as Katie scoffed and playfully hit his shoulder. He didn't feel bad about his jokes at all as he had her giggling and amused. Much like Cameron, she fired back with insults of her own and seemed to even pick up on a bit of English humor despite never having been here. She must have been exposed to it when Cameron came home from duty. Pine took a swig of his beer and licked his lips, truly examining his soon to be partner. While she was short in height, she had a nice hour glass shaped body with curves to compliment her in the right areas. Naturally, his eyes lingered upon the ample bust of her chest causing a slight arousal to stir within him. Katie took a bite of her food before washing it down with her water. She decided against drinking that night as her excuse was "Moscow better serve if we get the chance to dip into the motherlands true Vodka" and she said it with a perfect accent. "So what did you do before all of this?" She bit into a pub fry and raised her brows, finding herself at ease with him. This was the first time in a long time she had felt truly comfortable with a man and she had to give herself an inward cheer for it. "I am going to assume that Angela told you I managed hotels?" He mimicked her expression and leaned back, taking another swig of his beer. Katie nodded and took another fry into her mouth, waiting for him to continue. Pine was a bit hesitant to tell her that he served as they were having a great night and started an understanding of each other. He certainly didn't want to ruin the evening with his own guilt and trying to come up with the excuse of not being able to help her brother and that it was his fault he died. "I… I served. Two tours in Iraq." He tested the waters and immediately should have known not to say anything as he noticed Katie's expression change.

"Oh. Uh, I-I had a brother who served too. His name was Cameron." Her green eyes darted away and fingers tapped on the glass of her water. The brunette's heart sank as pieces began to fall together. She had seen Jonathan Pine before in pictures that her brother sent home. Albeit, he was younger and still very much handsome. Any chemistry that had built between the two was now gone and panic struck Jonathan. "Kate, I'm so sorry I didn't tell you before." He noticed her shift uncomfortably and start to pack her belongings. She froze at the name he called her as only Cameron referred to her by that. "Do NOT call me Kate." Tears welled up in her eyes and she stood abruptly, pulling her money out and nervously shuffling over to where she had to pay. This was the friend who told her brother all of the jokes that he gave unto her. This was one of Cameron's best friends… And the very person who watched him die. She felt around her pockets and noticed her phone was gone. Quickly she head back over and gave Pine one last look, "See you tomorrow." She muttered before rushing out as fast as she could. The pub was relatively close to their flat so she didn't need any sort of guidance. Jonathan grit his teeth together and ran a hand through his short curly locks. Brilliant. Some spy he was. How in the world was he supposed to work with the little sister of the friend he killed while on duty? Only time would tell and Pine certainly hoped like hell that it would heal the wound too.

#the night manager #flowers in blood #the night manager canon divergence #fanfic #jonathan pine x ofc #my writing #writing #angela burr #jonathan pine #rob singhal #ofc #spies in love

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the-odd-job · 4 years

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Ashes of Icarus chapter 9 - Hunger Pangs

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Chose Not to Use Category: Other Fandom: Transformers Characters: Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Ironhide, Jazz (brief) Relationships: Megatron/Sunstreaker, Sideswipe & Sunstreaker, Sunstreaker/Ironhide Additional Tags: Dubcon, Unplanned Pregnancy, Mechpreg, Sticky Words: 3482

( Previous )

There weren’t any battles, but Sunstreaker was pretty sure they would’ve been allowed to attend, had there been some. Ironhide seemed satisfied with the progress they were making in remembering how the hell to take some orders, which the twins were trying to do, if only because Prowl would never let them fight again otherwise.

Or maybe he would some day, but not soon enough for their liking. There was a war going on! Sunstreaker couldn’t pretend he cared too much about winning it and bringing it to an end that way, but he sure gave a damn about getting to participate in it.

Besides… Battles would be opportunities to see Megatron. Even just see him, maybe share a few looks… Doubtful as it was they would have had the time for much else with all the distractions around.

Why the slag was he thinking about something like that?

Sideswipe, at least, continued to find the whole thing fucking hilarious as they made use of their day off duty and headed out of the Ark. Nothing like a good, long ass drive to spend their free time…

Maybe somewhere particularly out of the way, too. Up the mountains again, perhaps.

You know, for no particular reason.

But they didn’t talk about that reason. Sunstreaker didn’t talk about much of anything, but Sideswipe sure kept his mouth running with useless garbage intermittent with music and pop culture references. They drove far too fast by the humans’ useless standards, as always, weaving through the traffic they ran into to the tune of many, many blaring horns.

Prowl would have their heads if he knew about their reckless endangerment of organic life, because the squishies had a lot harder time surviving the kind of crashes Cybertronians could recover just fine from, but he wasn’t here to see, was he?

And if some of the humans phoned the police on their afts, well, they just moved too fast for the law to catch up with them and had already left the more populated roads by the time anyone could’ve arrived on the scene.

They didn’t follow the patrol route of last time, but instead cut into a different portion of the mountainsides. Well out of the way of everyone and everything still, with very little in the way of potential distractions… They were handy targets like that, weren’t they?

But.

Nothing happened.

They drove around for a time, racing each other along the empty, winding roads, but no one turned up to interrupt them. No comm. jams, no spark signatures that should have spelled bad time.

No nothing.

Just them and the roads.

Days off were supposed to be for winding down and relaxing, and while usually this would have been their method of winding down and relaxing, this time Sunstreaker only grew frustrated. Frustrated and irritable, and angry with himself for being frustrated and irritable—what the frag was he, lusting after the enemy leader, expecting the mech to show up just because there was an opportunity for it?

Well, yeah, he was. He fragging well was, but Megatron didn’t take the bait.

It was driving him nuts as they made their way back towards the Ark, and even Sideswipe wasn’t chortling over it as much as he would’ve if Sunstreaker’s mood was any less murderous. He was still laughing, but he kept it somewhat to himself.

Of course, Sunstreaker’s frustration would never be just Sunstreaker’s frustration. Sideswipe was feeling it too, and just because Sideswipe’s temperament was generally better… Well, Sideswipe needed an outlet for it, too.

But true to form, Sideswipe’s outlet was markedly what the Autobots would have called healthier. As they returned to the Ark, his brother set out in search of a berth buddy to frag away his irritable energy—which only made Sunstreaker more aggravated, considering he was denied the same. Oh, nothing would have stopped him from finding someone to frag either, but there was only one he wanted.

And that trapped him in the vicious cycle of being angry due to his wanting, wanting more because he was angry, and… Yeah.

“Hey, Sunstreaker! You wanna–”

“No! Frag off,” he snapped at Jazz, his digits twitching with the urge to shove the smaller mech aside.

But on the grounds that Jazz was one of those mecha you did not want to piss off—as hard as he was to really piss off—he pooled enough self control to refrain from that and stormed by without laying a servo on the TIC.

Go him.

He could almost feel Jazz shrug after him, not too perturbed by his attitude. It wasn’t like it was too unusual, coming from him.

The sparring room was destination, and he wasn’t sure if he’d hoped there would or wouldn’t be someone there, but Ironhide was present. Because they hadn’t dealt with him enough recently, what with the training Prowl had mandated.

He swore Ironhide had enjoyed it, too. Well, had after they’d started to put in the effort to actually try with the whole thing, instead of just ignoring everything he said. Maybe he enjoyed bossing them around. Who the pit knew.

“Sunstreaker?” Ironhide asked more than a little warily as he stormed in, straightening from where he had been inspecting the practice weapons, by the looks of things. “Wasn’t this yer day off?”

“Is,” he growled in answer, marching into the practice ring and… Stalking back and forth like a caged animal, unable to find the focus to actually practice anything.

He needed a target. Something to beat up.

Pits, why did the drones need to be off limits to him for having broken them too many times?

Ironhide read his mind. Or, his body rather, probably. “Wanna spar?” he asked, putting away the weapons and approaching the ring.

Sunstreaker ground his denta together loud enough that he was pretty sure Ironhide heard the sound, but nodded brusquely.

Beat up Ironhide, that sounded like a plan.

“Righty,” Ironhide said, sounding a bit cautious. Which wasn’t a surprise. Sunstreaker’s moods rarely ended well for anyone, and it was practically a public service to willingly put yourself in his way when he was feeling… Like this.

Except his reasons for his bad air were a bit more unusual and unlawful this time around.

But no one needed to know that much. He was moody to begin with, reasons be damned. A hell of a lot of things could set him off. Most didn’t even bother asking what it had been this time.

Ironhide didn’t either, just stepped into the ring and waited until Sunstreaker spun on his heel to face him. Then he took a ready combat posture and gestured for Sunstreaker to make the first attack with a flick of his digits.

Sunstreaker happily took the invitation.

Off they went. The good thing about Ironhide was that he could match them in skill, a feat very few mecha could manage. He was old, he was experienced, he knew exactly what he was doing.

He still couldn’t withstand them if they fought together, but one on one and he was more than a match for either one of them.

Was that what he needed right then? Or someone he could have just beat up? Sunstreaker wasn’t sure, but Ironhide was what he had, and Ironhide didn’t hold back. He couldn’t, really, because Sunstreaker for sure had none of the restraint required to not go at it with far too much force to call it safe sparring.

Ironhide didn’t say anything about that, just matched him.

But frag, his thoughts were racing. Sparring, or fighting, was supposed to center him, pull his attention to the present and keep it there on the threat of bodily harm.

It didn’t work too well this time. All he could think about was his pre-frag fights with Megatron, who faced him as an opponent of worth before beating him and ‘facing him for his trouble. Neither time had Sunstreaker lost because his skill would have ran out, though. He had just gotten caught by surprise, and not even by anything Megatron had done, but what he’d said.

He should be better than that! Pit fights with certain opponents had very much included vicious banter meant to distract the opposition. He hadn’t gotten as far as he had by falling victim to that tactic.

Except with Megatron it wasn’t just banter, was it? They were conversations. Between enemies, and far from peaceful, but at times it was a genuine exchange of information instead of just something meant to distract.

Side-effect just happened to be Sunstreaker’s distraction when Megatron said something he didn’t see coming. Like the thing about his glitch.

Or the notion of how Megatron would have treated them, used them, if they fought for him.

They were Autobots! Megatron should hate their guts, should want to kill them, especially after their combat prowess costing his side so many injuries and deaths. He’d said it himself, that they had been efficient against his troops—torn through them, as he put it.

But Megatron hadn’t killed him. Or Sideswipe. Same thing, really. No, instead he’d fragged him.

A lot more pleasant than dying, that was for sure.

What was Megatron’s endgame with all of this though? Or did he even have one? Was this just a tryst that he’d like to continue for as long as his interest in it remained, only to stop when he grew bored? Kill Sunstreaker once that happened, maybe?

Or just let the whole thing die on its own, never to be brought up again?

Ugh, he didn’t kn–

“Yer sloppy.” Ironhide’s voice broke through his thoughts. As if to make a point, the weapons specialist sent him crashing into the ground in a move that Sunstreaker very well should have been able to see coming and counter.

He growled but rolled back to his pedes before Ironhide could pin him and end their match. They were both dented from back and forth attacks, and at least Sunstreaker had enough raw skill to not lose right away even if his mind wasn’t really in it—but pits, it should be.

Why was it so fragging hard to focus?

“Keep dreaming,” he growled at Ironhide, intent on wiping the floors with the older mech. And he really did try to keep his focus in the present and on the fight as they moved around the training ring, attacks, dodges, blocks, feigns…

Just like with Megatron.

Except Megatron radiated danger and power in a way Ironhide didn’t, making him a far more… Titillating opponent.

His back hit the ground, and this time he couldn’t get out of the way before Ironhide had pinned in a hold that would have seriously broken body parts if the weapons specialist was serious about this.

Sunstreaker’s field lashed out with barely diluted rage, but even though it was through bared, clenched denta, he did growl, “Yield.”

“Not yer best show ever, kid,” Ironhide commented, loosening his hold enough that Sunstreaker could push him away if he wanted to.

He didn’t. “Yeah yeah.” He knew already, no need to fragging say it.

“Help any?” Ironhide asked next, raising one optical ridge at him.

Sunstreaker glared. No, it didn’t really help, at least not nearly as much as he’d have hoped. His spark still simmered, his core running hot from pent up energies that refused to dispel, even through violence.

He blamed his goddamn head for that. If he’d at least had his thoughts under control… But frag, he didn’t have even that much going for him.

“Wanna try something else?” Ironhide’s servo slipped between them and brushed against his array covers. Sunstreaker gave it a quick thought, came to the conclusion that it couldn’t hurt, could it, and snapped his valve cover aside.

He was already damp, what with his frustration having a decidedly sexual tone to it—damn Megatron—and while Ironhide first inserted only one digit, he quickly found enough lubrication to increase that to three. Sunstreaker’s engine was growling and he really had none of the patience for proper preparations, a hint Ironhide took easily enough. He released his spike and out of courtesy Sunstreaker reached down to stroke his servo over it and gave it a few pumps to bring the war veteran into full pressurization.

Reading his impatience, Ironhide didn’t toy around longer than that before he brushed Sunstreaker’s servo aside, tilted his hips up, and drove home.

There was the sting of not having prepared his valve adequately, but Sunstreaker gladly took it. Ironhide was larger than average for his frame size, at least as far as girth went, and the twins had always enjoyed it.

Now?

Now it wasn’t enough.

Sunstreaker growled as Ironhide began to thrust, the stretch of the older mech’s spike quickly fading away as his calipers adjusted. They didn’t adjust like that to Megatron, who remained always a bit too big in the best fucking way.

And the way Megatron ‘faced… It was so un-Autobot. “Harder,” Sunstreaker ground out, shoving his hips into Ironhide’s next push in. But, that wasn’t unusual from him either. Sunstreaker liked it rough, everyone knew that.

So all Ironhide did was quicken his pace, increase the strength he put behind every snap of his hips—Sunstreaker’s servos slipped to his aft to guide him even faster, even harder. He knew Ironhide was a little rougher than most Autobots, that he wasn’t opposed to real fucking.

But apparently Sunstreaker was demanding more than what even Ironhide was willing or able to give. “What’s gotten into you, kid?” he grunted as Sunstreaker’s servos tightened to clash their bodies together harder.

Not what.

Who.

He wasn’t going to say that much. “Nothing,” he growled instead, his field lashing against Ironhide’s—Ironhide’s, whose only met it instead of drowning it with everything he was–

Because Ironhide wasn’t that much. He was old, he was strong in his own way, tested and proven by time and elements…

But he wasn’t Megatron.

Fragitall.

Sunstreaker’s engine roared, but he pushed the older mech away enough that he could turn over before Ironhide had the time to wonder what he was up to. He brought his aft up and Ironhide took the invitation and shoved back in, setting up a pace that should be perfectly satisfactory—fast, rough, their frames slamming together with a cacophony of metallic clashes. Sunstreaker pushed back into it, his frame snarling.

He didn’t ask for it, but this wasn’t Ironhide’s first time with him. Without prompting the weapons specialist shoved on his shoulders, hard, forcing Sunstreaker’s front end flush with the floor, and then pressed on his neck to keep him there. And that… That was more like it. A taste of the kind of dominance Megatron displayed.

Except where it came so naturally from Megatron, like it was ingrained in the warlord’s very spark, from Ironhide it just felt like an act. A play, a role he took to try to unwind Sunstreaker—dispel some of his frustrations, make him a little less dangerous. Sunstreaker appreciated the effort, but frag…

Was

Not

Enough.

He still rocked back into every thrust that just wasn’t as punishing as what Megatron could so effortlessly deliver, and he still overloaded after the crackle from Ironhide’s climax traveled into his frame, but it was a meager little thing. Nothing like the processor melting overloads Megatron had pulled from him without even trying.

They were both venting harder in the aftermath, fans running to cool their frames—just nowhere near as hot as what Megatron had managed to make him.

He could feel Ironhide considering him, but the weapons specialist didn’t let him get up yet, his grip on his neck remaining, his spike still in his valve. Sunstreaker waited, a little confused and growing more irritable by the minute, but before he got to the point of asking about it, Ironhide let go of him and pulled out. “Turn around,” he was told, and Sunstreaker stilled in bewilderment before he glanced back at the other mech.

And glowered.

Ironhide frowned back at him, then slapped his aft.

Hard. “Turn around, kid.”

Snarling and still confused, but… Not finding himself entirely opposed to the change in attitude—or the continuation of the tone he’d personally forced on their frag, rather—Sunstreaker did as he was told and turned to face Ironhide. Before he could push himself to sitting, the old mech had grabbed him by the back of his helm with well enough force to keep him down, and tugged him closer to his still standing spike.

“Suck.”

He didn’t. In fact, Sunstreaker swam too deep in a pit of utter confusion to really do much of anything. He hated giving oral, a fact Ironhide—and everyone else for that matter—was well aware of.

That in mind, normally no one would ever dare ask him to perform oral.

...But normally he wasn’t asking to get fragged into the fucking floor, either.

And Ironhide knew them. Ironhide knew them well, after how much time he’d spent kicking their afts around on the training floor, and sometimes fragging them afterwards.

It wasn’t a big of a stretch to realize Ironhide had—correctly—read into the situation and decided to give Sunstreaker just what he was asking for.

“Suck.”

He could have said no, and known that Ironhide would back off at once.

Instead Sunstreaker opened his mouth and let Ironhide push him onto his spike. Partway, anyway. Ironhide let up on the pressure the moment he felt the tip of his spike brush against the back of Sunstreaker’s throat, and while his servo didn’t leave the back of Sunstreaker’s helm, while his grip remained tight, he left the rest up to Sunstreaker.

Normally he would have never agreed to take it any further than that.

Normally he wasn’t fantasizing about the enemy leader.

Sunstreaker relaxed his throat and swallowed all of Ironhide to one very surprised rev from the weapons specialist, the digits on his helm spasming just so. Ironhide didn’t say anything though, didn’t try to stop him no matter how out of character he was acting.

So Sunstreaker didn’t stop and only began to bob his helm along Ironhide’s spike. He’d been told to suck, right? Might as well do it properly. He hadn’t exactly done this often, but Sideswipe, the oral crazed fuck sure had, and he easily pulled from his brother’s experience to ripple his intake around Ironhide’s spike, lash his glossa around it, probe at the tip when he pulled part of the way up.

But the truth remained that he did not like performing oral, and it was only so many times he could stand the feeling of Ironhide’s spike entering his throat before he had to quit on that front and use only his oral cavity for however much of Ironhide’s spike he could service that way. He brought his servo up to stroke along the length he couldn’t—didn’t want to—fit into his mouth.

Ironhide’s engine was revving with clear arousal by now, and Sunstreaker didn’t know if Sideswipe’s skills were just that good, or if the old mech liked the sight of him on his knees in particular. He liked to think it was a combination of both. Who wouldn’t want Sunstreaker on their knees in front of them, really?

How many would ever get to see that? So, so few.

The servo on the back of his helm remained, but it didn’t push him into anything in further practice. Sunstreaker wasn’t sure if he felt disappointed or not, but he continued sucking, licking, and stroking until Ironhide was tensing in overload, his transfluid shooting into Sunstreaker’s mouth.

He smoothed out his grimace and swallowed.

Ironhide’s servo fell off his helm as his overload tapered off and Sunstreaker got off his spike, sitting back on his ankles and wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. There wasn’t too much of a mess, thank Primus for his supernatural ability to keep himself clean, but the taste of transfluid was heavy on his glossa. Not very pleasant, if he was honest with himself.

But… He did feel… Calmer.

Ironhide wasn’t Megatron, but Sunstreaker could appreciate his effort.

“Better?” the old mech asked.

He wasn’t as frustrated anymore, even if his displeasure over Megatron’s fragging absence remained. So… Sunstreaker shrugged, then nodded, fetching a cloth from his subspace to begin wiping himself clean. From the edge of his field of view he could see his frag buddy of the day do the same.

Well. He’d gotten fragged, success on that much.

Just not by the mech he would’ve liked.

“Whatever am I gonna do with ye and yer brother,” Ironhide lamented as they wiped themselves off. The weapons specialist ran a servo down his face for good measure, probably struggling with how very un-Autobot he’d gotten.

Sunstreaker snorted. You don’t know the half of it, old mech.

( Next )

#transformers #maccadams #sunstreaker #sideswipe #ironhide #fic #2020 #ashes of icarus #ashes

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whumpywhumper · 5 years

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Markus & Clint

So @0idril0 wanted to see how Markus and Clint met, so I wrote this up. It’s pure, cheesy fluff which has been much needed for myself.

Tagging Markus & Clint’s usual fanbase: @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @imagination1reality0 @insanitywishes @walkingchemicalfire @comfy-whumpee @vickytokio @whumpitywhumpwhump @genesissane @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @voidwhump @captivity-whump @kungpao-giffy @comfortforthepain

Edit for Masterpost

V***V

Markus threw his head back and laughed at Evan’s description of the pug he’d treated earlier that day. Apparently, “little old man” and “farts like a skunk” were nothing compared to it’s personality.

“I swear to god, Markus,” Evan laughed, wiping tears from his eyes, “I could barely keep a straight fucking face with this little pug bitching it’s owner out as I examined him. I had to pretend to fucking stick myself with a damn needle when he told her that if she let me stick my finger in his bum one more time that he was going to shit in her mouth while she slept.” He raised his beer bottle to his lips, the glass slick with condensation between his fingers, chortling when he continued. “She called the damn codger a ‘smoopsykins.’ ”

“Oh my god, oh my god, Evan stop!” He held his stomach as he continued to laugh, “You’re going to fucking kill me.”

Evan thumped him on the back when he tried to take a drink of his own rum and coke, a huge smile on his face as Markus started hacking to keep the burning liquid from pouring out of his nose. “Don’t die on me, bud! Who would I have to keep Brian from braining himself when he goes after some of your sisters?”

Chuckling, Markus rubbed at his eye with the heel of his hand. “He needs to stick with pining after Kristy, cause Deanna and Keihl are gonna eat him alive.”

They looked over the bar where Brian was trying to charm one of Markus’s coven sisters, the dark skinned woman concealing a twinkling smirk at the younger man’s antics. Her partner was practically licking her lips, her black nails tracing them while the siren was completely oblivious to the danger he was in.

Evan snorted, getting to his feet and shaking his head. “I better go save him.”

Markus smiled as he watched his friend go and clap Brian on the shoulder, feeling the warmth of several drinks and the company of friends curling in his belly. He’s pretty sure that the only person who actually knew why he’d pulled all of his friends, and their friends, together was Theo, and he’d sworn her to secrecy.

A heavy thump in Evan’s vacated seat made Markus turn back, eyebrow raised as a large man in a leather jacket made himself comfortable. Green eyes, reddish blond hair, and a white, rakish smile had Markus rolling his eyes and smirking internally before he’d even opened his mouth. “Is this seat taken, Hun?”

The witch could feel the good natured charm rolling off of the stranger in and waves, and he couldn’t help his own smile as he answered. “It is now.”

His smile grew slightly larger at Markus’s lack of rebuff, shouldering off his jacket as he motioned their bartender for a Guinness. His eyes caught on the play of muscle below the other’s sweater, the warmth of liquor in his system making him less than subtle.

Chuckling, his visitor put his elbow on the bar and leaned into Markus’s space, like he was trying to make himself heard over the crowd. Even though it really wasn’t that loud. “Come here often?”

Markus’s snort at the cheesy pick up line gave way to real laughter when the other’s smile only widened at his reaction, genuine warmth residing in the creases next to the other man’s eyes. Indulging him, he turned completely, letting his feet swing off of the bar stool and one of his long legs stretch in-between the other’s. “Not often enough for my liking, you?”

He took a long drink of his rum and coke, looking underneath his lashes at tall, bright, and charming, feeling a flicker of satisfaction when he followed the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. “First time actually, was ordered to bring a cake for a surprise party by my friend Theo, but I can’t resist getting to know a pretty thing like you, Sugar.”

At the mention of Theo, cake, and a surprise party Markus’s expression dropped from flirtatious to horrified. Eyes widening, he rocked back in his seat and his head whipped around in search of that dark haired traitor. “Theo!” he screeched, trying to jump to his feet and nearly toppling himself and the barstool over in his tipsy haste.

“Woah, Darlin’!” Two hands caught him across the shoulders as he nose dived toward the floor, righting him and the stool with an impressive lack of effort. “I didn’t think you were trying for a date with the floor!”

“I’m going to strangle that witch with the grahm I made for her!” Markus groaned, thumping his head against the bar and pulling his hair. “I told her! She swore! Fuck!”

Hissing through his teeth, the other man clapped him on the shoulder, “I think I just fucked up. Please tell me you’re not Markus?”

Scowling, Markus turned to hold out his hand, head still on the bar, “Nice to meet you.”

“Aw, damnit,” sighing, a calloused hand took his own, “Clint.”

Markus noticed the warmth coming from Clint, not just his hand but his extra senses as well, taking in his innate goodness and instantly trusting him. It felt like coming home to a good dog, your entire heart opening up and your worries rolling away. But under that, was the distinct predatory undertone, a snarling magic that was simmering under the surface. Definitely a supernatural, probably were, but what kind?

Other than a base curiosity, it really didn’t matter in the long run. Raising his head, he motioned to the bar tender, “Tequila, please, Jeremiah.”

“Make that two, on me,” Clint added.

They clinked glasses before shooting the alcohol, each throwing their head back at the same time. The alcohol burned on the way down, and Markus grimaced, clacking the glass back to the bar and biting into the accompanying lime.

“What the fuck happened while I was gone to make you shoot tequila?” Evan’s voice made him turn, just as recognition dawned on the beast master’s face. “Well no wonder if this motherfucker’s involved-” a huge smile broke across his face, “-Clint!”

“Evan!” Laughing, Clint jumped up and grabbed Evan around the waist, spinning him around in a circle. Evan’s feet swung next to someone’s head, and Markus winced. But no harm, no foul.

“I take it you two know each other?”

Evan grinned as Clint set him back on his feet, clapping the other man on the arms. “Yeah! Clint’s the one that brought in those [cryptid] a few months ago. I commissioned that salve from you, remember?”

Markus sat up straighter, very clearly remembering the ordeal. “Yeah, you said he got them from some poachers, right?”

Nodding, Clint answered, “yeah, motherfuckers had trapped ‘em.” He grins, and suddenly Markus can very clearly see the wolf just under the surface as his eyes flash yellow. “They learned there mistake rather quickly.”

They lost some tome talking shop, until Markus looked over and saw Brian, and his eyes widened. Deanna was sitting in Brian’s lap, playing with the stick from her martini and sucking on the olive at the end. Keihl was leaning over Brian’s shoulder, showing him something on her phone. He turned to Evan, hissing, “I thought you saved Brian earlier?!”

Shrugging, Evan sighed, ”Man, I tried, but it’s like a dog with a bone. He knows he’d rather go and talk to Kristy, but his damn young brain can’t pull himself away.” He chuckled, lips quirking in an amused smile, “Plus, Deanna and Keihl are having too much fun to just let him go.”

Clint motioned for another shot and grinned at them. “Let a predator play with the other predators.” Knocking the tequila back, he headed over, a sauntering roll to his hips that had more than one set of eyes following him.

Deanna and Keihl didn’t stand a chance. Clint plucked Brian out of the two women’s clutches and sent him off smiling, looking happy for walking away toward Markus and Evan.

“He does know that now he’s the one that’s trapped right?” Evan murmured to him, motioning to Jeremiah for another beer.

Markus grinned, watching how Deanna’s eyes had finally lit up and she was actually smiling, how Keihl’s eyes softened and she was looking at Deanna like she was the moon. “I think they’re trapped with him, actually.”

His grin slid off his face when he saw Theo, and he immediately tried to slide off of the bar stool and to the floor. So he could crawl out the door without anyone seeing him.

But it was too late.

Evan caught him by the shoulders as everyone turned to him and started to sing.

Happy birthday to you,

Happy birthday dear Markus,

Happy birthday to youuuu!!!!

Theo grinned at him as she set the cake on the bar in front of him, everyone crowding in behind her as she said, “Make a wish, birthday boy!”

The cake said “Happy (Secret) 26th Birthday!” In neon green letters over the black frosted cake. Scowling and pointing a playfully threatening finger at Theo, he turned to the cake and took a deep breath. Blowing out all of the candles at once.

He started cackling, throwing his head back in a full body laugh, when they flickered back to life. Even a real witch loved trick candles.

#fluff #Markus #Clint #Markus/Lucien Series #Nico Series #my writing #surprise party #several years before each series

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angst-in-space · 6 years

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voltron fic recs april 2018

fics added to my fic rec masterlist in april 2018. check out the link to the masterlist to see all my previous fic recs! happy reading ✨

To Dance Till Dawning || PunJedi || Keith/Lance || T+ || 79.5k || chs. 3/3 (complete)

"If it wasn’t for the goddamned rabbit, Lance wouldn’t be in this mess."

Somehow on a detour to a date, Lance manages to get himself embroiled in a war that ended millennia ago, a shady sickness plaguing the Kingdom of Altea, and one very disagreeable, very emo púca. He really, really should've stayed home.

"Keith had screwed up. Royally screwed up. Zarkon plus Haggar plus Lotor plus Alfor plus Allura level of royally screwing up."

Somehow, out for a run in the forest, Keith manages to find himself involved with a kingdom that wanted nothing to do with him, the ghosts of his past, and one incredibly annoying, incredibly talkative selkie. He wished he had stayed under his rock.

my notes: this fic really blew me away, and honestly i'm shocked it doesn't seem to be that well-known...y'all please shower this fic with kudos or i stg. but in all seriousness, this is a really brilliant au. it's a faerie au which is something i don't think i've read before––i was so excited to hear about it and it exceeded my (already very high) expectations. the world-building is incredible, the characterization is perfect, the plot is so engrossing, all the friendships/relationships are developed so well and the klance is so sweet. i recommend this one so highly omg.

follow your heart (and follow my lead) || loulola || Keith/Lance || T+ || 43.4k || chs. 3/5 (incomplete)

It takes winning a gold medal at the Olympics for Keith to realize that he’s reached an impasse in his life. His career as center position for Team Canada’s olympic ice hockey team is flourishing- there’s a gold medal in his hand, after all. But the medal, a coveted achievement, hangs heavy in his hand, dead weight dragging him down. It brings him no satisfaction. He’s... stuck.

Then he meets Lance McClain, Team Canada's best shot at a gold medal in olympic figure skating. It's no secret that Lance is talented, and he captivates everyone on and off of the ice- Keith included. And it's Lance who convinces Keith to take the biggest risk of life: leave ice hockey to pursue figure skating, with Lance as his guide and partner.

No one said it would be easy.

my notes: Olympic au where Keith is a hockey player and Lance is a figure skater but then Lance convinces Keith to give up hockey for figure skating. Really nicely written, wonderful characterization, and the Klance in it is really sweet. It's just such a fun fic!

it’s you that’s haunting me || perfchan || Keith/Lance || T+ || 37.4k || chs. 6/6 (complete)

Keith is a loner; his interactions with others tend toward clumsy or strained, but he has a persistent enthusiasm for the paranormal. Lance is a recent college grad; caught up in his day-to-day, he wouldn’t call himself unhappy, but suddenly feels that his life lacks direction. When Lance is introduced to Keith’s ghost hunting videos, his interest is piqued and he can’t help but want to tag along. Initially opposed, Keith soon finds himself warming to the company of the living.

A little tongue-in-cheek, a little cliché, and a little bit of a slow burn. A not-too-serious ghost hunting AU.

my notes: i love ghosts/ghost hunting so i was so excited for this and it definitely lived up to my expectations! this was genuinely spooky and a lot of care/detail went into all the haunted settings. plus the klance dynamic in it is perfect, and their banter is so well-written and funny it had me laughing out loud. but they're also so sweet and caring with each other, too. all-around just super fun to read.

All The Way Down || speaks || Keith/Lance || T+ || 39.4k || chs. 1/1 (complete)

“You make it sound like we’re going into battle,” Hunk laughed worriedly on Lance’s other side. “I thought this was like, some kind of carnival.”

A chortle bubbled of out Coran’s throat as he slapped his side in amusement. “Some kind of carnival, he says! What an understatement! Allura, I think it’s high time to show the paladins precisely how and where we’re going to be spending the next three days. After you, Princess.”

A happy, childlike grin rapidly overtook Allura’s regal professionalism, and then a brilliant chink of light shone into the castle hall as she opened the front doors to the mountain they’d landed on twenty minutes ago.

Lance went slack-jawed as his eyes adjusted to the white-blue light of Krossin’s distant neutron star, and he almost stumbled as he and the other paladins followed Allura and Coran out onto the grass to take in the view laid out before them.

This place was a utopia.

my notes: at first glance this sounds like just a fun little "oh the team goes on some trip to a space carnival and wacky shenanigans ensue" but trust me it's much more than that. yes, there are plenty of wacky shenanigans, but also this is quite the emotional rollercoaster (pun intended). the setting, first of all, is super detailed and vivid and so creative. but also the characterization is fantastic and the klance is so well done. (side note: if you like pining lance then man....you gotta read this one.) i actually teared up a couple times reading this. trust me, it's that good.

I know nothing else, I know only this || laallomri || Keith/Lance || T+ || 28k || chs. 1/1 (complete)

“I feel like I’m in a bad teen movie,” Keith says as they creep down the hallway of the base.

“Well, we are sneaking out,” Lance says, “and we’re lying about where you’re gonna be the next few hours. If we really wanted to be accurate I’d have thrown pebbles at your window and you’d have climbed down a tree.”

He’s walking a little ahead of Keith, so he glances back at him, frowning. “If Kolivan’s in charge of the base, does this make him your dad in this scenario?”

“I think he’s too old for that,” Keith says. They round a corner, tiptoe down another hallway. “Maybe he’s the grandpa.”

In which Keith finds time in the midst of defending the universe to live out some of the tropes of a corny teenage romance.

my notes: this fic was so cute and made me smile so much! the humor in it was great and it made me laugh a bunch of times, but also keith and lance are so sweet and earnest with each other in it. also just wanna say hunk is characterized super well in this and there's really great hunk & keith friendship moments as well.

(Don’t) Ghost me || spiritcrimson || Keith/Lance || G || 3.1k || chs. 1/1 (complete)

Here’s the thing: Lance is used to rejection. He’s been rejected plenty, and sure, it stings for a while, but then it fades, and he’s back in the game. Namely, back to swiping through people on Tinder.

But when Lance runs into the guy who ghosted him, and he's been moping over ever since, randomly, at a cafe they were supposed to go to for their date, he realizes the Universe is either sending him a sign, or just mocking him. Knowing Lance's luck, it's probably both.

my notes: binch i love rom-com/meet-cute scenarios so i loved the premise of this and it was so good! keith and lance are both so in-character and adorably/realistically awkward.

say my name (and every color illuminates) || Talking_Bird || Keith/Lance || T+ || 27.8k || chs. 1/1 (complete)

Lance never thought he had a soulmate, but when he finds himself dreaming about a boy on Varadero Beach and in a southwestern desert, he learns they have an incredibly rare soul link–-one that allows them to form an unusually strong bond before they meet, but also exposes their greatest vulnerabilities to each other.

my notes: man, how do i even begin to describe how much i love this fic? it's seriously one of the most beautiful fanfics i've ever read. it's really soft and atmospheric, but it also packs a huge emotional punch. i'm telling you ... it takes a lot to make me cry, but there were several (several!) points in this fic where i literally could not read through the tears streaming from my eyes (some happy tears, some sad tears). what can i say? jessie is a genius and she has absolutely blown me away once again. you gotta read this one because it's absolutely stunning.

my own fics that updated this month:

red skies || Keith/Lance || T+ || 39.1k || chs. 4/?? (incomplete)

Lance doesn't know where he comes from––only that he was found in a forest on a distant planet when he was an infant, with no sign of his origin except a blue talisman around his neck. Nowadays he's content to travel the universe with his best friend Hunk, scavenging and selling goods. But that all changes when a girl named Pidge hitches a ride with them, and in the same day the trio finds a crashed ship carrying nothing but a boy with no memory of who he is ... and a red talisman that matches Lance's.

previously recommended fics // my fics

#vld #voltron #klance #fanfic #fic recs #monthly fic recs 2018 #brigidposts #text #sorry this is a couple days late #i somehow read so much during april lol #my may list will probs be a lot shorter than this one cuz i'm a lot busier now #so....take ur sweet time reading through these haha

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snowbellewells · 6 years

Text

Wake Me Up (Before You Go Go)

“Wake Me Up (Before You Go-Go)”

By: snowbellewells (TutorGirlml on ff.net)

(This is really and truly nothing but a small bit of fun fluff. Even the WHAM! song I appropriated the title from is just goofy and always makes me smile. I can’t help but imagine all kinds of just silly, everyday things for our married pirate and princess to be doing in Storybrooke parallel to season seven. There was a lot of rain when I started this last week, I pictured Killian waking Emma up in a way that got him into some mischief, and here we are…

I still don’t own them, but I do hope you enjoy! ;)

It had quickly become habit, once the Savior of Storybrooke and her pirate were married and set up house together, for Killian to rise early in the morning, have his coffee on their house’s open back porch overlooking their lawn running down to a rocky beach and beyond that the harbor, begin fixing breakfast for them all in time for Henry to partake before he headed off to school, and then to man the morning shift at the station. To say that Emma was grateful for the chance to cuddle further beneath the covers in their huge, luxurious bed and sleep in, was quite the understatement, but she reveled in the opportunity all the same.

Not that she would want to take advantage of her new husband – she still felt a smile spread over her lips and a warmth throughout her limbs at being able to call him hers – but the crazy man genuinely seemed to enjoy his time puttering around by himself in their house, watching the sun rise and going about caring for his family – a natural “early bird” if ever there was one. Beyond that, it stirred every fiber in her being as surely as the gentle rays of that rising sun filtering in through the white curtains at their windows, for Emma to lie still curled cozily in bed and hear the cheerful voices of her husband and son floating up from the kitchen directly below. Though she couldn’t make out their exact words, she basked in the joy and affection of their tones, which carried up the stairs to her waiting ears quite clearly. Very little could top how much she loved hearing her two True Loves – her family, her whole little word – enjoying each other’s company so completely; laughing and joking, speaking of their plans for the day ahead as they rattled around; Henry setting three places at their tall kitchen island – they always left one set for her, so she was ready to eat once she came down for her own breakfast, just in time to see her son off and wish him a good day – and Killian finishing the pancakes, eggs, or whatever more creative delicacy he had prepared that morning and plated it up. Emma could clearly picture them both munching bacon and talking amiably, Henry’s eyes lit with excitement as he shares the details of some story he’s writing, and her pirate’s eyes bright and attentive, giving her son all his focus in a way that Emma knows for a fact tells Henry just how much he matters to his stepdad, how Killian listens when he speaks as if Henry were the only person in the world.

As much as she did indeed love to sleep in, Emma in truth sometimes lingered in bed simply to give her two men their private few moments each morning; the father-son bonding an exquisite ache in her mother heart. She knew how very lucky she had been, with Henry’s father lost to him, to have found a man who genuinely loved her son as his own – who had never hesitated to do so. He was willing to risk his own life – throw himself between Henry and danger – even before they were ever fully a couple, or she had even given him certain indication that they would be. He cared for Henry enough in his own right that he would have stepped back for Henry’s family to be whole if events had gone that way, and all of his own accord, Killian had given Henry memories of his father Neal at the boy’s own age, something Henry could hold to when the chance to know his father had been ripped away. It meant more to Emma than she could ever truly articulate to Killian, though she had tried and felt he understood more than anyone else would have managed to grasp.

That particular morning, as she rolled over onto her back and blinked into wakefulness, Emma was confused for a moment not to hear any of the usual clatter and hum of typical morning conversation. Scrunching her bow for a moment in thought, she remembered slowly that it was Saturday, Henry was with Regina for the weekend, and so Killian was probably still out on the porch with his morning brew, or had perhaps even ventured down to the docks to check on his beloved ship, while waiting for her to wake up and join him for whatever the day might hold.

As she awakened more fully, Emma registered the gentle pelting of rain on the roof overhead, a soothing rhythm that coaxed her awake with its natural symphony, soft and gentle. She listened to it contentedly while debating if she was ready to crawl out of her den of blankets and seek out her husband – maybe they could sit on the porch together and just watch the downpour while wrapped in each other’s arms – when suddenly cold wetness broke into her thoughts, smacking against her side suddenly and soaking through her night shirt and across her cheek.

“Ahh! What on Earth!?” she gasped out, spluttering in confused surprise and quickly turning to see if somehow the window had blown open, only to meet the twinkling eyes of her pirate, droplets of sea water running down his face from his sopping hair, and having just snuck up and leapt back into bed with her, rain drenched clothing and all, nearly chortling with fiendish glee at her reaction.

Not content with merely having roused her into startled wakefulness and thoroughly chilling her from the cozy warmth she’d been lingering in, Killian proceeded to wrap her tightly in his arms – despite his sopping state – like some crazed octopus, and rub his dripping scruff playfully up her neck and over her cheek.

Half annoyed and half fighting not to laugh at his antics, Emma struggled to detach herself from his enthusiastic grip and smacked at his leather jacket clad shoulder, which only resulted in a wet squelching sound and him gathering her impossibly closer still.

“Killian, seriously?!” she finally exclaimed. “You’re cold and wet! What are you doing?!?”

Grinning with enough mischief and waggling eyebrow action to make her give in and smile back in spite of herself, Killian did finally release her and scooted back a bit when he felt her shiver. “Well, I’ve been enjoying the peaceful morn alone for quite some time now, wife of mine, and the idea struck that being curled up by the fire, watching the rain fall on the harbor, would be ever so much more enticing if you would join me. A surefire method of rousing you seemed to be in order, Love.”

“Did it now?” she questioned drily, quirking a skeptical eyebrow at him in an effort to appear unamused for one last ditch moment. Truth be told, there was something in his honest desire for her company, even still, long after he had won her heart, they had married, and the two of them had more or less settled down together, which did her soul infinite good. For so much of Emma Swan’s life, no one had even seemed to notice if she existed at all; she could have vanished from the face of the Earth chasing some skip in Boston, and there wouldn’t have been a single person to miss her. Killian’s desire to simply share his morning with her, realizing that he wouldn’t be fully content until she joined him, made genuine happiness swell through her from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes. It was hard for Emma to believe that she had actually once wanted to be anonymous, lost in a sea of faces she cared nothing for so she couldn’t be hurt again, and it had taken this lost man – this pirate who had given up all hope until they met – to show her just how far from the truth she was. What was a bit of a chill and having to dry the sheets and pillowcases compared to that?

“Fine, you win,” she only pretended to grumble, shoving him a bit as she flung the covers off herself and began to get up. “I’m getting out of bed. See?”

Killian nodded, looking ridiculously pleased with himself and then leaned in, quick as a flash, to smack another loud, sloppy kiss to her cheek and dart away before she could whirl to catch him. Practically dancing across the room to the door as Emma huffed and squawked indignantly, he merely called back, “Excellent, my Love! I shall see you down there!” before making a swift exit.

“And there’d better be coffee!” Emma called out after him before moving to the dresser to pick up her brush and make some sort of haphazard bun once she’d combed the tangled – and slightly damp – waves of her hair. Shaking her head and smiling to herself, she pulled some sweats on with the oversized shirt of her husband’s she’d slept in and moved eagerly to join him. She had to give him a bit of hard time, if just for show, but she would happily start every morning just like this.

Tagging a few who may enjoy: @whimsicallyenchantedrose @kmomof4 @spartanguard @drowned-dreamer @searchingwardrobes @branlovesouat @linda8084 @bcmbbcs4evr @jennjenn615 @laschatzi @jackieorioncat @blackwidownat2814 @revanmeetra87 @winterbaby89 @unltraluckycatnd @capswantrue @celestial-fire-writer @kiwistreetswan @psymplemind @ilovemesomekillianjones

#cs ff #cs fluff #parallel season 7 swan jones family fic #cs one shot

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mrschangrettawrites · 6 years

Text

Feel Like This

Summary: You came to Stephen an eager student, and he would never be the same again.

Words: 3220

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Female!Reader

Notes: Nothing really, aside from the fact I still haven’t seen Doctor Strange. I highly highly highly recommend installing the InteractiveFics extension from the Chrome store if you can. To add your name and last name simply install the extension, then click ‘Need to replace something other than Y/N?’ and in the value bar put Name and put your name in the Replace With bar, then click change! And be sure to tick Store this replacement so that you don’t have to do it every time.

Tagging: @gameofdooweeoo @doctor-strange-thirst-club if you want to be tagged in future chapters lmk!

Chapter One

It had been six months since you had arrived at the Sanctum, and while initially Stephen had been reluctant to let you in, he was glad he did.

You had arrived as a pilgrim of sorts, seeking out ‘arcane knowledge’ as you had put it.

“If you wish to learn the Mystic Arts-” Stephen had begun to say, but you cut him off.

“I have my own magic.” And with that you stretched out an arm, and formed a sphere that seemed to be made out of smoke in your palm. “I was born with it.” You had said, in answer to Stephen’s unspoken question. “But I want to learn. Please, just let me learn.”

And who was Stephen to turn away a willing student?

Almost instantly you became a source of fascination and curiosity to everyone within the Sanctum, from the greenest apprentice to the most experienced master. None of them had ever seen power like yours, and to learn that it was a natural gift was an even bigger surprise. You denied being a mutant, which left everyone wondering how you came to acquire your powers.

“I stopped asking that question a long time ago.” Was your reply whenever you were asked.

Stephen personally took you under his wing, as he saw it as his duty as he was the Master of the New York Sanctum. He taught you everything he had learned at the Kamar Taj, trained you in martial arts and gave you books to read. While he had been unsure as to how you would adjust, to his surprise you took to it like a duck to water. Your agility was impressive, your strength and endurance moreso. And Stephen never had to ask you twice to open a book and absorb the knowledge within. It appeared that your desire to learn was genuine, and Stephen was consistently impressed by you.

This soon turned to fondness. And this in turn became love. Which left Stephen at a loss.

After Christine, Stephen began to think he was the kind of man who was ill-suited to relationships. While he had been a different person then, the thought still plagued him. That old arrogance was still there, lurking in the shadows, and even after his metamorphoses, Stephen could be hard to get on with. And then there was the issue of your age.

You were young. Far too young for a man like Stephen, at least in his opinion. He was of course aware of relationships with age gaps like the one that existed between the two of you, and ones where the gap was even more significant, but he still hesitated. He worried you saw him as being too old for you (God knew that was what he had thought at that age), or that you only saw him as a mentor. He didn’t know how he would react if he poured his heart to you, only to have you tell him that you saw him as a teacher, a guide, and nothing more.

Well, he had an idea at least. He imagined he would try and find the deepest, darkest hole he could and throw himself into it.

So he endeavoured to nip these feelings in the bud, but that proved to be far easier said than done. You were vivacious, eager, and possessed a charm that was laced with sweetness and sincerity. It was all a very dangerous combination. At least in Stephen’s opinion. It was as if the universe had purposefully sent him someone he would not help but fall in love with.

More than once he had been tempted to use the Eye to see in the future, or to peer into the other dimensions to find one where the two of were in love and happy. But he never dared. He was too afraid of what he may find.

So he told himself to be content with what he had now. No matter how difficult that may be.

“You know this really has to stop.”

Stephen turned to Wong with a raised brow and a frown. “What does?” He asked, genuinely confused.

“All of this lovesick pining you do.” Wong waved a hand, although whether it was to describe said pining or his irritation with it, Stephen didn’t know. “It was funny at first but it’s gotten really old.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Stephen replied calmly, despite the fact that he could feel his face flushing and he imagined it was only a few shades lighter than his cloak.

Wong snorted. “And I’m the queen of England.” He deadpanned. “Have you tried, you know, talking to her about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

Clearly this displeased Wong, as he gave Stephen the most withering look he had ever seen. “I don’t know if you think you’re good at faking, but I will tell you right now you’re not.” He climbed up a ladder and ran a finger along the spine of a row of books before finding the one he wanted. “And if I have to go through another day of seeing you like that I might just tell her myself.”

“No!” The suddenness of Stephen’s reply, along with how loud it was, surprised him, but Wong appeared to be unfazed. “I mean…” Stephen tried to think of something to say, but all the words he had ever learned disappeared, leaving him with a dry mouth and throat.

Wong raised his head and seemed to be far too amused for Stephen’s liking. “It won’t kill you to be honest you know.” He pointed out.

“Easy for you to say.” Stephen retorted, having re-found words. “It wouldn’t be your dignity at risk.”

“Oh I’m well aware of that. Why do you think I want you to do it so badly?” He grinned.

Now with a face definitely as red as his cloak, Stephen stormed off, leaving Wong to chortle.

Frowning, Stephen ran his eyes over the large, thick, heavy tome that sat on the desk in front of him. The cover was as black as onyx and he suspected that once it had shone and looked very grand indeed. But the lacquer had long since dried and started to peel, and the edges of the pages were so yellowed it was hard to imagine any of them had once been pure white.

Tony had found it during a raid of a HYDRA base and taken it straight to Stephen, suspecting it to be a magical artifact of some sort. Stephen could definitely something deep and old and powerful emanating from it, but he didn’t know what it was. And he didn’t know if he wanted to know.

“Stephen?”

At the sound of his name, Stephen looked over his shoulder, but he knew who had spoken. “Name. Is something wrong?”

“Wong told me Mr Stark brought something to the Sanctum.” Your eyes landed on the tome. “Is that it?”

Stephen nodded and he gestured for you to come forward. He watched as you did so, although with an apprehension he hadn’t seen since your first few days at the Sanctum and you had yet to build up your confidence. “I’m not sure what it is.” He admitted. “So be careful.”

But it appeared he needn’t had bothered to warn you, as you seemed determined to keep your distance from the possible artifact. You remained a few steps behind Stephen, your eyes boring into the tome. The look in your eyes was so unusual and foreign, at least on your face, that it took Stephen a few, very confused moments to realize what it was.

Fear.

“Everything’s perfectly fine.” He said, trying to soothe you despite what he had just said before. “You can step closer.”

But you shook your head firmly. “It-It’s alright.” You said. “So...have you read it?”

Deciding to leave you be for now, Stephen nodded. “But I can’t understand any of it.” He opened it up again, as if hoping that it would make sense this time around. But the words remained a cipher in a hand that was at times elegant, at others rushed. “Wong hasn’t come across anything like it, but he’s trying to find any information that could-are you alright?”

Your face had gone unusually pale and you looked on the brink of heaving. Without waiting for you to reply, Stephen put an arm around you to keep you steady. He quickly shed one of his gloves and pressed his hand to your forehead, grateful for the fact that he could pass the shaking off as his usual hand tremors rather than admit to it being nerves. “You’re burning up!” He said, shocked that you had managed to fall so badly under the weather so quickly.

“I’m fine.” You croaked in a manner that very clearly showed you were anything but fine.

Without a second thought, Stephen lead you out of his office to take you to your room, asking you if you had been sleeping well, how much water you had had that day, if it was that particular time of the month.

“Stephen really there’s no need to fuss!” You protested. “There’s nothing wrong!”

“Who’s the one with the medical degree here.” As Stephen went through every illness that could possibly be responsible for this sudden change in you, he hadn’t yet noticed that this was the closest the two of had ever been physically. It only occurred to him when he laid you down on your bed, and the realization hit him, along with the fact that you were lying down, gazing up at him with half lidded eyes and a half open mouth, like in so many of his dreams.

Feeling utterly mortified, Stephen managed to get out a “I’ll get you some water!” before leaving your room and almost slamming the door behind him.

As Stephen waited for his heart rate to decrease, he had his back pressed against the door, trying his very best to resist the urge to bang his head against the nearest hard surface.

‘Pull yourself together you fucking idiot!’ He scolded himself, but his heart continued to beat wildly, like a door in a hurricane.

When Stephen found you, you were sitting in an armchair in the library. It had been a few days since the incident in his office, and despite your protests Stephen gave you strict instructions to not over exert yourself, even going as far as to use his medical degree as leverage over you.

That was another thing he adored about you; your stubbornness. Which was unusual as when other people were stubborn it tended to annoy him. But your stubbornness always came from a well-meaning place, like everything else you did. You always seemed to act, first and foremost, with your heart and soul.

Apparently hearing his footsteps, you looked up from your book and gave Stephen a smile that made his knees go weak. “Stephen, did you need me for something?”

‘More than you know.’ “No, I just wanted to check on you.”

You smiled wider, making it harder for Stephen to breathe. “That’s very kind of you.”

Without warning, Stephen’s cloak flew off from his shoulders and wrapped around you, settling on your lap as if it was a beloved pet. This wasn’t the first time the cloak had done this. It appeared that it had developed fond feelings for you (the fact that it could feel anything at all still baffled Stephen), and was loathe to waste an opportunity to get close to you. The cloak was able to do just about everything Stephen wanted to do, purely by virtue of being a cloak.

You laughed, the library ringing with the sweet sound, as you gently stroked the cloak. “Did you miss me?” You cooed teasingly.

The cloak responded by nuzzling your face, making you laugh again.

Stephen smiled, feeling both elated to see you in such a state of joy, and jealous that it was his cloak making you feel that way.

(And then he felt ridiculous for being jealous of the cloak.)

That night, Stephen dreamed of you again.

His dreams of you went one of two ways.

In some, the two of you are immeasurably happy. The sun was always shining and the weather was always good and Stephen couldn’t stop smiling. He would lift you up in his arms, spin you around as you laugh and squeal in delight. You are both in your own home, with no one to bother either of you. There are no otherworldly threats to the universe. Everything smells like vanilla and cinnamon and when Stephen kisses you he tastes Eden.

He is not having one of those dreams.

This dream sees him throwing you onto his bed, climbing on top of you as his mouth latches onto your neck, alternating between kissing and biting. You mewl and cry out as you run your nails down his back, making Stephen groan.

He pulls away and looks into your eyes, hazy with lust, and holds your wrists above your head. “Bad girl.” He whispers, his lips so close to your ear that you shiver. “What have I said about scratching?”

You whine and stutter out an apology to which Stephen can only tsk. He makes a gesture with his free hand and uses his magic to form chains that bind your wrists together, so that both of his hands are able to wander your body.

Even though he has never had the privilege to map out your body in real life, in the dreams you are soft and sensitive, the trailing of his fingers along the parts where your body dips and then expands making you moan, making you beg.

There has never been a sweeter or more erotic sound to Stephen’s ears than the dream version of you begging.

(He could only imagine how he would react to the real version of you doing it.)

Stephen gritted his teeth as he tried to land a hit on you with his whip, but as usual that proved to be far easier said than done.

You rolled out of the way, dirt staining your training clothes and getting into your hair as you formed a shield made of thick black smoke, successfully blocking Stephen’s attack. You rose to your feet and charged. You dodged every lashing Stephen sent out, moving as if you were a swan gliding across a lake, before finally knocking him onto his back.

Stunned and winded, Stephen could only blink and once again marvel at just how sturdy the things you conjured could be before he felt something lapping at his neck. When he looked down he saw a dagger, pressed to his throat, and when he looked up he saw you, kneeling and taking up his whole view. Your head was blocking out most of the now low hanging sun, leaving what was left to make something like a halo around you, outlining you in gold.

Stephen’s heart jumped right up into his throat and he found himself at a loss for words.

Taking his silence of adoring reverence for one of admitted defeat, you smiled and dispelled the shield and dagger, rising to your feet with an outstretched hand. Stephen took it and rose with you, his whip disappearing.

“I didn’t hurt you too badly did I?” You asked immediately.

Stephen couldn’t help but smile. He found your fretting endearing, and loved how it revealed your soft heart. “I’m perfectly fine.” He assured you. “You did very well today, you’re improving quickly.”

You beamed, seeming to glow under Stephen’s praise, making his heart flutter. “Thank you.” You said, sounding breathless.

Still smiling, Stephen noticed that Wong was watching the two of you from a window. When he saw that he had been spotted, he pointed at you urgently, raising his brows. Stephen immediately looked away. “Get some rest, you’ve earned it.” He smiled and patted your shoulder before walking away.

“Stephen.”

The urgentness and hesitation in your voice makes him stop, and he turns to face you, suddenly worried. “What’s wrong?” He asked, immediately going back to your side, genuinely afraid now.

You gaze up him, your beautiful eyes filled with unease and it makes him grip your shoulders. “Stephen.” You whisper, and it sends the sweetest of shivers down his spine.

“Yes?”

The two of you gaze at each other in silence, and Stephen searched your face, trying to find what it was that was bothering you.

You took a step forward, so that only a small sliver of space existed between the two of you. Stephen’s breath caught in his throat.

“Stephen.”

Who knew his name could sound so sweet?

“Name.” He licked his lips. “Are you...are sure?”

“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.” You whispered. “Nothing-no one, has ever made me feel like this.”

He isn’t sure who moved first. He thinks it might’ve been him, but who can say? All he knew was that he was kissing you, his arms around your waist and your hands clinging onto his chest.

As fireworks explode inside Stephen he pulls away, gazing into your eyes. “I love you.” He whispered, afraid that speaking any louder would lead to the moment shattering.

You smiled. “No shit Sherlock.”

Stephen snorted with laughter before capturing your lips in another kiss.

When Stephen awoke the next day, he saw that the other side of his bed was messy. For a moment he was confused, as that didn’t usually happen, before he remembered.

Last night, after finally opening his heart up to you and watching in astonishment as you did the same, he took you to his room. Nothing really happened, just lots more kissing and cuddling as you were both so tired and sore from training, but that hardly mattered. You had been in his arms and your mouth had been kissing him and his mouth had been kissing you and nothing had ever felt so perfect.

Overwhelmed with the urge to kiss you again, Stephen got up, threw on some sweatpants and a shirt, and went off to find you.

He immediately went to the library, every step feeling lighter than the last.

When he opened the door, he was brought back down to earth.

Wong was lying on the ground, eyes shut and groaning.

Stephen went to his knees and helped the other man up, his heart hammering. “What happened?!” He asked frantically. “Who did this?!”

Once he was firmly on his feet, Wong looked at Stephen with the most stricken expression he had ever seen on anyone. “Stephen-I-I’m sorry.”

“What happened Wong?”

“Name.” He said softly, casting his eyes downwards.

All at one Stephen’s guts constricted and his heart froze while his brain went into overdrive, thinking of every possible scenario that would’ve lead to this. “Where is she? Wong where’s Name?!”

“She took the book Stephen.” Wong croaked, still unable to look up. “I ran into her last night, here, and she…” He trailed off, but Stephen was more than capable of putting two and two together.

And as he did so, he felt his heart shatter, and already knew that what had happened to his hands would always pale in comparison to this kind of hurt.

#stephen strange x reader #stephen strange imagine #fanfictionhub #doctor strange x reader #doctor strange imagine

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