#i mean come on spiderweb pants

[thisfanisgonesorry]

please make a part2 to ironhead where he actually ties up a vibrator to her…….pretty please….

thank you for the req cutie pie!! i have another hobie fic coming out in a few days and then probs going to a diff fandom until i get possessed again (aka ill get halfway through my carlos drabble and then ill end up coming up w/ another hobie fic)

tags: overstim YEAHH, touch denial, bondage, shibari but less than before, dom/sub, i mean v heavy dom/sub. cums in pants.

my beta reader thinks i lace these fics with crack

pt 1 >> IRONHEAD listening to let me hear you scream - ozzy osbourne

✰ “Y’re doing great, love.” He purred me through my orgasm. 

I kept my eyes harshly closed, wrists tied above my head and legs tied together with a magic wand held nicely in place by firm ropes. I writhed helplessly against the restraints, the sensitivity getting worse with each moment.

“Calm down, baby.” He whispered, pressing his large hand on my stomach to push me against the mattress in hopes to ease the movement.

“Hobie, please.” I cried.

“Tell me that wit’ y’r eyes open.”

I opened my eyes lazily, trying desperately to look up at him. He was knelt next to me with wide legs, hovering over me. All I could focus on was his aching cock, stuck in the confines of his tight jeans. He was so hard that a wet patch was forming through the fabric, yet he was in complete control.

I let out a pathetic whine at the sight, knowing there was nothing more appealing to my lust-addled mind than to touch him and get him off.

“Love.. Are you cryin’?” He cooed softly.

“It’s too much.” I pleaded with him.

“Y’re only 5 in.”

A choked cry clawed its way from my throat at his words. The stickiness on my body was driving me crazy, covered in sweat, spiderwebs and cum; the view to him was nothing short of immaculate but he simply sat there like the world’s most self controlled man.

“Let me touch you.” I whined. “Please, Hobie.”

“No.”

“Please! You’re so hard, ‘s cryin’ for me, wants me so bad.” I sobbed. “Gonna twitch under my fingers.. Twitch on my tongue, gonna—”

“You’re riling yourself up.”

“Hobes, ‘m gonna cum, please, please, please.” I helplessly begged.

He took in a sharp inhale, steadying his breathing as he watched carefully, running his hand up and down my thigh. “Go on, love. Make it real pretty. Let m’hear you.” He spoke, attempting to speak clearly to show just how restrained he was.

I let out an incoherent mess of cries and begs, cumming all over the wand and squirming against the restraints again. His other hand began to brush my sweaty hair out of my face, watching the way his torture made me unwind.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell.” He gritted his teeth, trying to contain a groan.

“Mhmphf— Hobie.” I whimpered, the orgasm dying down and the burning overstimulation returning.

I used all the strength in my body to stop squirming enough to push myself onto my side, pressing my face into his strong thigh, the position was uncomfortable due to my wrists being tied to the headboard but it was the price to pay to feel him against my skin.

“Darlin’..” He laughed nervously.

“I need it.” I moaned, looking up at him through hazed, cock-drunk eyes. I nuzzled my face pathetically against his jeans. “Need you, need you so, so, so bad.” I rambled.

“You have me.” He answered, his voice shaking slightly.

A loud moan, followed by a loud ‘ah, fuck’ filled the air. I brought my knees to my chest as comfortably as I could with my legs tied together. Small whines, gasps and pants filled the air as I desperately tried to get closer to the handsome man watching every move I made.

“Y’re so desperate, ain’t ya?” He teased lightly, keeping his hands to himself, knowing otherwise he would probably break his iron will.

“Please.” I sobbed, 6 orgasms in and completely ruined beyond belief.

The squirming, thrashing, writhing, tugging, awkward angle and general length of the entire evening meant all 3 of us were worn down. The third, loud as day, snapped. Hobie perked up when he heard the sound of the webbing breaking, freeing my wrists from its hold. He was kind of impressed briefly; my hands quickly wrapped around his waist in a hug, pulling him closer to me.

“I should punish y’for that.” He spoke softly, stroking my sweaty hair once again. Though the fact I simply pulled him into a hug instead of going for his hardness was what convinced him otherwise.

I shook my head to say ‘nuh-uh’ as I pressed open mouth kisses on his jeans. “Close again.” I warned. “So close. I can’t—”

“Y’can do it, love.” He spoke sweetly, his hand gripping the back of my thigh to keep me in place as his other left my face to harshly grip the bed sheets. He leaned back slightly for a better view and that’s when he wrecked himself.

My hips jerked and spasmed, simultaneously grinding into and away from the vibrator. My breathing was racing and the sounds eliciting from my body only raised more and more in volume.

“Right there..” I pleaded.

“Let me hear you scream.” He groaned.

There was not much else I could do but abide by his request, though in the mindless state (despite the fact it was quite intentional), I reached to palm him through his jeans, crying his name out in several moans. 

I could feel him switch under me as the sounds left my throat and hung heavy in the air. His hips jerked to the movement before he grabbed my hand harshly.

“Don’t..” He whispered, halting the movements though the pressure of it pressed against his dick was still enough.

“Please.. Need you.” I tried to whisper back, though it definitely didn’t come out like that. I continued pressing open mouth kisses on his jeans and trying to move my hand from under his. 

He furrowed his eyebrows, breathing heavily and trying to gauge what the correct thing to do was as my hips continued to stutter against the wand, he kept a keen eye on me, his grip letting up just enough that I could stroke him at the speed he chose, limiting the movements.

“Y’re filthy.” He groaned, watching me lick a stripe up the fabric. His hips jerked at the sight and his composure was falling slowly.

He found himself giving in to my touches as I squirmed at my own pleasure. “Fuck, so much.” I breathed, mouthing his pants. “Ain’t 7 enough?”

“But y’re making m’feel s’good.” He panted.

“Can’t stop cumming.” I whined, feeling it get closer again as I desperately palmed at his cock; silently waiting for the permission to pull it out of his pants, the fact he was even letting me do this much was kind of a miracle.

HIs hips kept moving against my hand as he praised me quietly, watching me squirm into him, taking the punishment like a champ. He let out small moans and groans as he watched me palm him, nuzzling into him, pressing small kisses onto him, doing whatever I could in my goddamn right to worship him.

“Ngh— Fuck, ‘m cummin’ again—” I moaned, the downtime between each one was getting shorter and shorter and there’d either peak when I reached a moment of constant orgasm, or I believe I’d simply go numb and feel nothing but overstimulation and be a whining, crying mess, unable to orgasm any more.

His breathing hitched in his throat, he watched me writhe with that stupid lopsided grin, his jaw slack in awe as he desperately tried to fill his lungs with air. He felt that warm feeling in his stomach, noticing the telltale signs. “Shit, wait, y/n—”

His eyes closed, his jaw fell open and he gasped for air, small groans leaving his throat and his hips stuttering in place. His large hand forced me to stroke him through it, as he quickly accepted his fate.

“Fuck.” He hissed. “Let’s get y’fixed up, pretty baby.” He spoke quickly, pushing me off him, trying to be gentle despite his speed. He turned off the vibrator and let me relax, my tense body finally slump down into comatose limpness.

“Did you..?” I panted mindlessly.

“Shut up.” He mumbled, grabbing his pocket knife and slicing the webbing again, careful enough to not damage the wand, but quick enough to lay me down.

“Mhm, need’a washcloth.” I sighed, finally given a moment to sit back and catch my breath, finally able to relax after the considerate torture he put me through. “Feels gross.. All sweaty 'nd sticky.”

“I can see that.” He responded. 

I laid on my back, watching him through heavy eyes, he scrambled to discard the webbing that was tight on my legs and waist, collecting the loose web still stuck to the headboard, to put the wand away and then to get the damp cloth I needed to clean up.

He tried to stifle a laugh when he saw the wet patch on the bed. He knew, in this moment, he wasn’t one to laugh, but he found the view slightly impressive. He ran the damp cloth over anywhere that looked particularly gross, starting with my face for obvious reasons.

 “Anythin’ else y’need, love?”

“Dunno.” I hummed, he sat over me, removing his t-shirt and helping me put it on my body. It was worn, but it smelt like him. “You gonna let me see the mess you made?” I commented as he held my body upright.

“I.. No.” He spoke. “Y’look tired, darlin’.” 

“You embarrassed?” I asked softly.

“No..” He shook his head again, “A little. Just.. Fuckin’.. Gotta wash these now.”

I sighed, rolling onto my stomach and taking the pile of pillows in my arms, knowing that Hobie would come take his place underneath me soon enough, he just has to rid himself from his excitement.

He ran his hand smoothly down my spine, feeling the muscles relax under his fingertips.

“Go to sleep, darl’, ‘m gonna be a minute.”

“Wash ‘em tomorrow, I want you now.”

He took a sharp inhale, before finally giving in. “If I can’t get the stains out, you’re on clean up duty.” He threatened, though it was clear to tell it wasn’t genuine. He quickly slid into clean pj shorts before snaking his way into bed and pulling me away from the wetpatch and onto his chest.

“Hobes, missing somethin’.” I mumbled the reminder, being taken by sleep as I felt the warmth of his arms wrap around me.

“Mhm? What’s that?” 

“Where’s my ‘y’did so good’?”

“Y’did so good.” He huffed in amusement, placing a soft lingering kiss on my neck. “Y’took that real well, jus’ took everythin’ I gave ya’, ‘nd y’looked so pretty doin’ it, too. Wasn’t too much, was it?”

I shook my head weakly. “Was good.” I sighed, nuzzling into his neck and letting myself give into the exhaustion.

“I love ya’, darlin’.” He said finally, continuing his whispers of praise.

[aloysiavirgata]

Some kinky/m-rated post-revival headcanons for msr, please?? ☺️

1. Her moisturizer is obnoxiously expensive. It comes in a fancy little purple jar that he always winces at seeing in the recycle bin because he feels as though even the empty vessel must be worth money that he does not need.

Scully runs her fingers down her Vespucci throat, fingers slick with obscure polymers, and he remembers why he doesn’t care.

“Can I help you?” she asks, massaging nightingale shit or snail venom or some other unholy thing into those impossible cheekbones. Into eyelids taut and fine as dew-jeweled spiderwebs. Watching him in her Edwardian silver-glass mirror through lashes like opera curtain fringe.

Decades of touching her, but he cannot say she has skin like the finest vellum without sounding like Ed Gein. He cannot say, “I want to bite your calla-lily throat until it bruises into a violet,” without sounding like Ted Bundy.

“Nothing,” he says, his lip between his teeth. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your ablutions.”

He bites at his tongue like a cherry in April, almost ripened but not quite. He twitches a little in his faded yellow pants, twitches and considers, but isn’t fully hard yet.

Scully watches him in the mirror. Runs lotion between her high, bare breasts with her Rodin hands; studies him with her tourmaline eyes.

***

2. His forearms. She fell in love with restrained sexuality - no. No, she had a concept of it after she watched Casablanca one afternoon home from school with a stomach bug. Catholic girls fall in love with restrained sexuality very young, only they don’t know it. They iron their kilts and they pray and they confess to all the wrong sins. They fall in love with dark wool blazers and satin ribbons and the brave wilted starch of hand-me-down blouses.

The muscles below his elbows, woven like a braid. Like a scourge.

He’s past sixty. He’s past sixty and if she’d met him now at the same age she was then she still would have bitten her lip and said “Jesus H. Christ” and quietly, secretly, shamed her father.

Let him finger her in a Ford Taurus. Called her sister and said, “Ohh, Missy, I think I fucked up.”

Daniel, Daniel. She thought that was love.

Mulder smirks, a five-o’clock-shadow on his disparately perfect face. Mulder with his squinty eyes and his too-short chin and his beestung jigsaw mouth like the reason kissing was invented.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks, tapping his nutmeg fingers on the scarred kitchen table.

“You don’t make very much money,” Scully notes, running her thumb along his brachioradialis. His skin is the color of sand castles, of the the edges of chocolate chip cookies. “With your blog.”

Mulder pouts. “I made it the old fashioned way,” he says, his thumb against her philtrum. Her lips. Her tongue.

“You certainly didn’t marry it,” she teases. “Living in sin.”

He nibbles the fleshy pad of her thumb. “I inherited.”

***

3. Her waist is sister to a Stradivarius. Her waist like Maud of Wales. He knows he shouldn’t obsess over this, her taut palimpsest belly, especially after the birth of a child they can no longer even claim. He knows it’s a quirk of genetics, like her startling eyes and her amber hair and her glorious brain. He knows she was born to be someone’s muse and that he has thwarted her destiny of Gauloises and pouting silver-nitrate immortality in a coffee table photography book.

She could still launch a thousand ships, she could bring Rossetti to his knees. He does not realize that the muse she is - a Perugino angel, a Lovelace polymath - remains his alone by her desire.

Scully, nearly sixty. So soft and so hard and angular and curvaceous. How had he ever waited, her waist and breasts and hips all bound in wool and gabardine and fitted black poplin? How had he let her beg off the lyric of “If I were the king of the world/Tell you what I'd do/I'd throw away the cars and the bars and the wars/Make sweet love to you.”

He curves his hot palm below her rib cage with his left hand, thumbs her tailored blouse open with his right.

He sucks at her rosy-brown nipple, her clavicles, her pale calf; he a ucks at her like Eve drinking in the first sweet juices of the apple.

***

4. Mulder should have been a pianist or a surgeon, she thinks. Should have been conducting an orchestra with fingers that beautiful, but instead he’s massaging a focaccia into a lazy rectangle.

He’s a tactile animal, her love, with his rangy hands and his absence of physical boundaries. Mulder has loomed and leered and poked and prodded for decades. He’s touched her in wildly inappropriate ways since Monica Lewinsky could legally drink. The 90’s, what a goddamn time, with his wholesomely filthy calendars and his flagrant innuendo.

Scully’s watched him squeeze limes and kill terrible people and braid challah and still - shameless - she sucks her bottom lip when he unbuttons a cuff, grips the gear-shift in their Highlander.

Mulder slices a tomato, chiffonades the basil.

“How long to rise,” Scully murmurs, cupping her palm around the tender juncture between his thighs.

Mulder sucks in his breath, arranges a flower garden on his dough. Adjusts an olive slice with the precision of Michelangelo.

“Twenty-four hours in the fridge,” he says, pressing deeply into her hand. “I hope you haven’t got plans.”

***

5. He licks at it like someone’s elderly aunt, like a mother cat, like a judgemental yiayia, bubbie, meemaw.

Scully swats at him, irritated. “Stop it. It’s not schmutz.”

“No,” Mulder says, tenderly. Stubbornly. “All those years, who did you think you were fooling?”

She scowls, too thin and too pale and too aristocratic for his comfort. “When I was nine Aunt Olive said it cluttered up my face.” Scully presses a forefinger to the birthmark above her lip. “It made me self conscious.”

“Je suis coquette,” Mulder says, his tongue teasing her lips apart, pleased with his own cleverness. He took three semesters of French, traveled there, but studied Les mouches independently.

A gentle swat to his nose. “It’s a cluster of melanocytes.”

He would absolutely love to slap Scully’sAunt Olive. Scully's dreary biology professors. “Tell Marilyn Monroe,” he mumbles against her fleur-de-sel mouth. “Tell Cindy Crawford.”

Scully says nothing, but her skin warms. Softens, loosens. She melts, midway cotton-candy at the State Fair, into his waiting mouth.

[sleekervae]

New York Romantic .3

Masterlist

pairing: Tom Blyth x ballerina!oc

summary: hotdogs in central park

word count: 3441

taglist: @watercolorskyy @carolanns-world @alana4610

October was always an exciting period in New York. The brownstones were decorated top to bottom in thick spiderwebs, glowing skeletons and some of the most incredibly carved jack-o-lanterns one could find. The air had picked up a distinctive chill and many people's denim jackets and summer shorts had been traded for thicker-lined coats and scarves.

And of course with the turning of the seasons came midterms, written essays and memorized monologues that had to hit emotion, rhythm, believability, and of course, a time limit. While Tom had spent his evenings memorizing his lines, Noelle was busy practicing her combinations. She wouldn't come home until seven or eight at night as opposed to her usual four-thirty. Dragging herself through the hallway, bleary-eyed and exhausted, she could discern the sound of preaching through the paper-thin walls. Tom's voice stood out distinctly, booming and self-assured, a stark contrast to his usual timid and bashful demeanour.

Because midterms never held back, Tom was curious when one of his professors instructed them to come in loose-fitting, easy-to-move-in clothing. Their next lesson was on movement, and they were to have the honour of having some training from the second year ballerinas.

Tom picked out a simple t-shirt and some baggy, grey joggers, he felt more like he was on his way to the gym than he was school. He found Sunny was already up, munching on a bowl of frosted flakes while he watched some YouTube videos on his phone. He looked up curiously when Tom walked in, noting his baggy attire.

Tom threw his hands out at his sides, giving a listless shrug, "How do I look?" he asked.

Sunny shrugged back, "Like you should be asking for pennies on the street corner," he replied.

Tom glowered at him, "Are you serious?"

"Well, you don't look professional!" Sunny replied honestly, "Unless that's the assignment, today?"

He shook his head, "We're learning about movement with the ballerinas,"

Sunny stifled a laugh, "You're gonna learn ballet dance?"

"Not ballet, just movement. Posture and stuff,"

Sunny shook his head, "Well, you can't go like that," he scoffed.

"Why not?" Tom asked, glancing down at his outfit, "They just said loose and easy to move in,"

His roommate stood from the table and started for the hall, "There's a difference between easy to move in and wearing your pyjamas to school," and he disappeared into his room, "How tall are you?" he called suddenly.

"Six feet. Six one, maybe?" Tom shrugged back.

Not a moment later Sunny returned with a pair of black training pants. He unfolded them before his eyes, the crisp white Adidas logo on the pant immediately catching Tom's attention before he focused in on the rest of the look.

"Here, I wear these for football. Freshly washed," he tossed them to Tom, and he barely caught them at his chest.

"Are you sure?" he gawked back.

"Sure I'm sure. You wanna' make a good impression for the ballerinas, right?" he patted Tom's shoulder before taking his seat again at the table.

Tom's brows furrowed, "I'm not -- I'm not gonna' be scouting for a girlfriend, if that's what you mean," he said.

"I know, but still -- give them a reason to remember you... that's not those trousers, anyway," he replied simply.

"What's wrong with these?" Tom cried, somewhat defiantly.

"You look like a chav who just finished up at his nine-to-five and's about to settle in for a twelve hour GTA marathon," Sunny explained, "Trust me, mate,"

Tom changed into the training pants nonetheless, and he had to admit they made him look way less baggy than before. With that, he grabbed his notes and bag, his jacket, and was out the door in a split.

"Come in! Come in, everyone! Come have a seat!" the professor for the ballet's morning class, an older man with a moderate Eastern European accent, bellowed out to the acting students as they filed into the studio space. It was a gorgeous, large room with wall-to-wall mirrors, all accept for the window space that overlooked the bustling Manhattan streets below.

Jordan, a twenty-year-old first year acting student, had been bellyaching all morning to Tom about how ridiculous this all seemed. He was nice enough, but he had a proclivity for complaining.

"This is so dumb," he grumbled, falling into line with the others, "They're gonna laugh at us,"

Tom glowered at him, "They're not gonna laugh. We're just here to learn," he whispered back.

"Learn to do what, Swan Lake?" he scoffed.

"Would you just relax, please?" Tom grumbled back.

"We could be doing our monologues, right now," Jordan pointed out.

Tom simply shook his head and remained silent, sitting cross-legged against the mirror as the others filed in. The ballerinas were already here, clumped in their groups and sneaking glances at the actors. A handful of girls and guys, statuesque, lithe, adorned in shiny black leotards, tights, and some of them had leg warmers on. Among them was Noelle, sitting in the corner with Bianca and another dancer while she laced up her pointe shoes.

"Oh look, your ramen buddy's here," Bianca muttered. Noelle caught Tom's eyes when she glanced up, that dazzling, gentle smile pulling at her lips and she gave him a wave. Tom smiled and waved back subtly.

Their friend, Iseul, scanned the faces, "Which one?" she asked.

"The one who looks like he's shitting his pants,"

"They all look that way,"

Noelle rolled her eyes, "Would you guys keep it down?" she muttered.

Jordan spotted the small interaction from the corner of his eye, "You two friends?" he asked.

"She's my neighbour," Tom replied simply.

"You lucky bastard,"

Noelle quickly got to her feet as her instructor, Stanis, began to debrief the actors, "You originally came here to learn about acting. How to show character, evoke emotions, but a major part of theatre is how you use your body to show, not tell. Just like in a good book, you become much better story tellers when your body reflects pain, joy, agony," the man paced slowly across the studio, his hands flourishing with every exaggerated word. The dancers stood at the ballet bar behind him, casually leaning, watching, handful of eyes were passing over the doe-eyed first years some with boredom, some with intrigue.

Jordan leaned over to Tom, whispering, "Is he a ballet instructor or a high school teacher?" he was referring to Stanis' moppy jeans, beaten sneakers and band shirt. Tom hushed him.

"Of course it's impossible to exhibit any of these emotions if you're stiff," he straightened his posture but stood as still as a statue, "Or if you look bored," he slouched outwardly, posing like a delinquent teenager outside a convenience shop, "Or you look like a geek --" he hunched his back and pulled his shoulders in, making his limbs stuff.

A couple students tittered behind him.

"Now, obviously I am a ballet teacher, I am not a theatre teacher. But some of the key principles of dance are posture awareness, balance, coordination, spatial awareness, and physically expressing your emotion. These are principles utilized in ballet, and these are principles you will need if you hope to -- quote-on-quote -- break out in the industry," a hand went up from the end of the actors' group, "You there! Kip Dynamite!" Stanis called on him.

The attention turned to 'Kip', a lanky boy with thin hair and glasses, "I just wanted to ask -- are we expected to learn actual dances? Not many of us have any experience," his squeaking voice traversed the room.

Stanis chuckled, "Don't you worry, I don't expect you to performing grand jetes. You will however be learning these principles over the course of your studies," he explained, "Today we will start with the basics. Everyone please take up a position at the bar. Don't be shy!"

The actors took up spots along the bars against the mirrors. Jordan however raised his hand. Stanis nodded to him, "Ichabod Crane! You have a question?"

Jordan's face twisted momentarily, not quite sure how to respond to the nickname as he spoke up, "I don't mean any disrespect -- but why are they here?" he pointed to the ballet students.

Stanis shrugged simply, "To laugh at you, of course," he replied. Whatever little confidence Tom was struggling to hold on to, figuring there was no way in hell he was being serious. Luckily, Stanis began to chuckle, "No, no. They will be helping you. Directing your posture, your form, and I gave them permission to kick you if you're doing it wrong," he smirked.

"He's joking!" one of the dancers called, sensing the fear within some of the actors.

Stanis ignored her comment, instead he turned to his students, skimming them one by one until he settled on, "Bianca! Come be our przykład!"

The acting students glanced between each other, though Bianca didn't bat an eye as she stepped forward. Her expression was different from when Tom first met her, she had a little more get up in her step, more sparkle in her eye. That being said, her smile was a little too stiff.

"Assume first position," he directed, and Bianca did just that; shoulders back and head poised high, "Now, in this position our heels are touching and knees are squeezed together. Your bottom is also squeezed. First position improves awareness and control in your body, imbues confidence; you essentially feel like you have a string pulling you up. For some of you I imagine this may be the first time you've ever held a proper posture like this,"

He then turned to the actors, "Now, keep your right hand on the bar and assume first," and they did as they were told. Some had more poise than the others, some were loose in their arms or hunched in their shoulders, "My little soldier ants will be coming around to silently judge -- I mean help you,"

The ballerinas came around, some shyer at the approach then others, while Stanis continued to have Bianca demonstrate positions and stretches.

"When we warm up on the bar, we bend our knees into a demi plie, really focus on that plumb line being brought down from your crotch and between your heels, making sure your butt's not sticking out like a chicken," he too paced around the room, inspecting his new pupils one by one, "Keep your shoulders stacked over your hips. I'm talking to you, Kip!"

Tom followed along as best he could, he wasn't the worst but he certainly wasn't the best. He kept his eyes focused ahead, following along to Bianca's changing positions, but now and again his vision wandered to the rest of his classmates.

Jordan was two students ahead of him, and he was as stiff as stiff could be. When the female ballerinas walked by especially. It was then Tom realized why he was so opposed to this in the first place: he was trying to look cool in front of them.

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Noelle making her rounds. He tried to keep his form as best as he could, realizing that he was suddenly no better than Jordan in the moment. Noelle approached him with curiosity in her eyes, hands clasped behind her back as she inspected.

"Hey,"

"Hi," she admired his dedication to try, but she could tell from his tight grin, his stiff eyes that he was a little uncomfortable, "You doing okay?"

"I'm great," he nodded, "Your instructor seems like fun,"

Noelle simpered, "He's got a zany sense of humour. You get used to it after a while," she said, "You ever do dance before?"

Tom shook his head, "Not as much as I should've," he replied with a sheepish grin, "How bad is it?"

Noelle stood back and looked him over, all in all she thought he wasn't doing too terribly, "Push your chest out," she told him, "And bring your toes in a little more. You'll have better balance when you bend down,"

He did as she told him and she nodded in approval, "Way better. You won't feel as much strain in your arches now,"

"Thanks," he smiled at her.

"No problem. You got any questions?" she asked.

Tom mulled it over, the exercises were the last thing on his mind though. He glanced down at her pointe shoes, the satin a pearly pink and the heels peeking out from under her long leg warmers.

"I have one,"

"Shoot,"

"When you stand in your shoes, are you fully on your toes?" he asked, chuckling, "Sorry -- is that weird?"

"Not at all," she shook her head, stepping before him and placing a hand on the bar, "My feet are fully vertical, no pressing," she pushed herself up on her toes, her long legs perfectly straight and with hardly any shake. It was such a simple move and she made herself look so elegant at the same time. They were just about at eye level.

Tom cocked a brow, "Doesn't that hurt, though?" he asked.

"No. If you stand a long time then they cramp a little but... ya know," Noelle stepped back and forth to make her point, " -- And I gain a couple inches,"

Tom gave a little smirk back, pushing up on his toes and towering over her again. Noelle scoffed and gently smacked his arm as she dropped back on her heels, "Dickhead," to which he only laughed like a rascally child. Her skin tingled at the sound, she picked off how his eyes crinkled and his chest shuddered.

"Noelle!" Stanis suddenly called for her, garnering their and everyone's attention, "Are we giving a pointe lesson today?" he asked, a snide smirk playing at his lips.

Noelle smiled politely, giving a simple shake of the head, "Just previewing what's to come," she replied. Tom simpered beside her.

Another student piped up, "Wait -- are we gonna have to wear those shoes?"

"No, no. It was just a joke," Stanis assured him, "But if anyone slouches or slacks off today, they're going to be laced up and have to work on a solo for next class!" that statement seemed to light a little more fire under Jordan.

Tom's legs burned a little more than what he was expecting, his walk was a little stiffer and his face contorted when he had to go up some stairs. Noelle walked beside him, virtually unscathed by the warm ups and practices from the morning class. She watching him move with a little concern.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she held the door open for him as they exited the campus, eager to get some lunch.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he replied, "Haven't done that much bending since... well I don't know," he shrugged listlessly.

"The more you practice the better you'll feel. Like with any workout," she assured him, "What do you want for lunch?"

Some good food was sure to cheer him up, and he hadn't really had a sustaining breakfast either. He wondered it momentarily, glancing around at the plethora of signs for cafes, sandwich shops, and hot dogs stands. In fact there was one right on the corner, vending just a block away from the gates of Central Park.

"Would I be a terrible person for suggesting a hot dog?" he asked.

Noelle's eyes went wide, "Have you not tried an nyc hot dog yet?" he shook his head with a knowing grin, "Well, c'mon then!"

Fifteen minutes later they'd found a little bench to park themselves up, bags disregarded on the cold cement beneath them as they unwrapped their foil-lined lunches. Tom opted to get the typical New York style dog with mustard and onions, while Noelle just stuck with relish on hers.

"Now -- you gotta promise not to tell my dance instructor, or my classmates, or even Bianca. Because I will be strung up for eating this," she looked at him with a point of pure earnest, leading Tom to panic for a moment.

"Wait -- if this is gonna ruin your regimen or anything --" he stumbled over his words, but Noelle began to laugh.

"I'm kidding! Relax," she patted his shoulder and he settled, "Besides, what is the point to life if you deprive yourself of all the good things it has to offer? Like cat-meat hot dogs," she spoke just as Tom was about to take a bite of his, pausing momentarily and side-eyeing her hard. She was trying to stop herself from laughing.

"Eat your fucking hot dog," he grumbled before chowing down. The meat was perfectly salted and the mustard tangy, the sweetness of the onions and bun cut the edge off of the pure sodium bite.

"Sorry," she giggled, taking a bite of her own. This was the first time she'd ever heard him swear and she wasn't mad about it.

Tom simpered back, "Have you ever eaten anything really weird? Like totally weird? No one would ever think it should exist?" he asked.

Noelle mulled it over, her pink lips pursed and her brows furrowed, "Balsamic vinegar on vanilla ice cream," she decided.

Tom gawked at her, "No!"

"Yeah," she nodded bashfully.

"On purpose?"

"... Kinda," she shrugged, "There's this fancy shmancy restaurant in Soho that has it with strawberries for a ridiculous price, and Bianca and I thought -- what's the big deal?"

"... And what was the verdict?" he asked curiously.

"It's actually really good," she admitted with another giggle.

Tom refrained from making a face, "But it's dairy and vinegar! Wouldn't it curdle together?" he asked.

"I don't know, but it's kinda' good," she replied.

"So, we've gone from 'really good' to 'kinda' good'. I'm not convinced," he smirked.

Noelle rolled her eyes, "Okay smart-ass, next time you come over I'll make it for you," she decided.

"I don't eat desserts,"

"Since when?"

"Since forty-five seconds ago,"

"Oh, please," she shook her head, "Alright, what about you: weirdest thing you ever ate?" his lips curled up, menacing and eager to spill what she only could perceive as some sort of harrowing secret, "What?"

"You're not ready," he told her.

"No, no, I'm ready," she assured him, "What was it?"

Tom didn't even have to think about it, "My mum used to make mashed potato sandwiches," he admitted.

She cocked a brow, "Mashed potato sandwiches? Like -- wait, really?" she set her hotdog in her lap and rested her chin in her palm, intrigued to learn more.

"Yeah, she's psychopathic," he nodded, trying not to laugh himself, "Mashed potatoes -- usually from a packet -- scooped between two slices of bread and some butter. And when she was feeling a little fancy, she'd put mayo on it,"

"Nooo, shut up!" Noelle gaped, "Was it good?"

"It was bread and mashed potatoes, of course it was good!" he laughed, "It was her comfort food, believe it or not,"

"That sounds very comforting," she giggled with disbelief, "Oh, bless her heart! Okay -- if I go to England, I'll visit you, I'll meet your mom, and I'll try a mashed potato sandwich,"

"You got a deal, then," he raised his hand and they shook on it, "You can bring her balsamic vinegar and ice cream and have her throw you out of the house,"

"And why would I want to disrespect your mom in her own home?" she teased back.

"Just forewarning you," he smirked back. She liked that he was opening up to her a bit more, his louder side was coming through and his quirky personality was beginning to shine through.

"How gentlemanly of you," she simpered.

Tom knocked her shoulder with his, growing increasingly at ease in her company with each passing moment. He wasn't an idiot, he could recognize that his feelings for her were starting to spark into a small crush. He found himself hanging off every word she spoke, every time she moved her hair behind her ear or she always found something new or intriguing to talk about. His stomach was flipping at every enthusiastic giggle and reaction he got out of her. It was as if her enthusiasm had a magnetic pull, leaving him captivated by her every word and gesture. The way her eyes lit up and her laughter bubbled forth filled him with an intoxicating blend of excitement and nervousness. His heart raced in sync with her infectious energy, and with each positive response he evoked from her, a cascade of warmth flooded through him, leaving an indelible imprint of happiness amidst the fluttering sensations in his stomach.

[mari-writes]

👻🦉

“Keiji! Oh my gosh, Keiji! You made it!”

Akaashi looks up to see Koutarou’s sister, Kana, hurrying towards him, a drink in one hand and her phone in the other. She takes the front steps of her family’s large house two at a time, an impressive feat in her high heels.

Knowing full well the force of a Bokuto Hug™️, Akaashi braces himself for impact. “Oof,” he grunts as the woman pulls him in. She’s tall—with her shoes she matches his own height. His face is firmly pressed into a nest of monochrome hair. 

“Hello, Kana,” he greets, returning the embrace. “It’s so nice to see you.”

“You too!” She pulls back, grinning. Akaashi takes a moment to take in her appearance. She’s dressed up as a ghost of some kind, wearing a tattered grey dress with pieces falling off the sleeves and a long slit up one leg. Her makeup is powder white with black around her eyes and lips.

“Come in, come in!” She links their arms, pulling him towards the house. “The party’s already started!”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be here early to help set up,” he says. “This is incredible.”

The Bokuto home is decorated like a proper haunted mansion. The outside is covered in lights and tattered cloth, with creepy faces in each of the many front-facing windows. The inside is even more elaborate, with candles everywhere, spiderwebs and dark drapery.

“That’s okay! Kou told us you were at the office late.” Kana pokes his side with one finger. “You work too hard, Keiji!” 

His laugh is hollow. “Yeah. I mean, I didn’t even have time to find a costume…”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” She winks. Akaashi raises an eyebrow, but before he can question what she means, she’s leading him into the fray.

The event is indeed in full swing. There are guests everywhere. He recognizes some other Bokutos—the eldest sibling, Kai, waves as they pass by—as well as a few professional volleyball players, influencers, artists and politicians.

Akaashi knew that the Bokuto family were influential in Tokyo, but seeing it in person is something else entirely.

When they make it to the bar, they find Koutarou on the other side, shaking up a cocktail. His eyes light up when he sees Akaashi. A beaming smile splits his face. “Babe! You’re here!”

Akaashi can’t help but gawk. His boyfriend looks amazing. The man wears a similar costume to his sister, with ripped grey clothing and ghoulish makeup. Koutarou’s t-shirt is torn at the sleeves, showing off his biceps, and a slash in the front shows off a delicious strip of abdominal. The pants are tight. Very tight.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Akaashi smiles back. “H-hi, Kou.” He allows Koutarou to lean over the bar and press a quick kiss to his cheek.

“Wait for a bit, okay?” He bumps their noses. “My cousin said he’d take over bartending for me soon. Then I’m all yours!”

Akaashi nods, trying and failing not to blush. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to his boyfriend’s unabashed displays of affection. It used to make him nervous, at least a little bit, but these days it just renders him dumbstruck.

Ugh, Keiji is so in love with this man.

He settles onto a barstool as Koutarou whips him up a strong, whisky-based cocktail. Kai eventually makes her way over with her husband, Yuto, in tow. They converse about books, art history and Kai’s latest stint with the Australian Ballet.

It’s not until the Bokuto parents show up that Akaashi realizes: The family is doing a group costume. All of them are wearing the same ghostly clothing and makeup. Their father’s outfit is similar to Bokuto’s, and Kai and their mother are wearing dresses like Kana, though each has its own unique flair. Even Yuto had adorned a matching yukata.

“Thank you for inviting me,” Akaashi says, bowing his head. “You all look wonderful. I apologize for my late arrival, and for not dressing up.”

Koutarou's mother chuckles and shoves his arm playfully. “Oh, Kana didn’t tell you?”

“Huh?” Akaashi blinks. He glances at each of the Bokutos and Yuto, all of whom are wearing identical grins. He spins to meet his boyfriend’s eyes, which are full of mischief. “Kou, what are they…” 

“C’mon!” Kana is suddenly pulling him off his stool and back through the crowd. Kai is hot on their heels. Akaashi barely has time to hand off his drink glass to a random passerby as he’s guided upstairs.

“Where are we going?” He asks, only slightly nervous. Both women laugh. Kai’s small hands press into his back eagerly.

“To change into your costume, of course!”

Twenty minutes later, Akaashi is staring at himself in the mirror, astonished. The costume consists of a pair of high-waisted pants and a tight, long-sleeved shirt that dips below his collarbones. It matches the Bokuto family; muted grey and white and tattered in various places. His makeup is similar to the others in the group, with dark, sunken eyes, but there’s an extra emphasis on his lips and cheekbones.

He has to admit, it’s a very cool look. "Thank you," he breathes as Kana finishes working his hair into a properly tousled style. "Truly. You guys didn't have to..."

"Of course we did," Kai replies, gently touching his forearm. "It's a family costume, after all."

Akaashi finds his boyfriend waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs as he rejoins the party. He silently delights in watching the man’s eyes bulge and jaw drop.

“It’s not often our little Kou is rendered speechless,” Kai giggles, lightly slapping her brother’s arm. But Koutarou pays no mind, instead reaching to help Akaashi down the last two steps.

“You look so hot, babe,” he rasps. “It’s not fair! How do you look so good in that?!”

Akaashi snorts. “You’re one to talk...”

Together, they head outside to where Kana has set up a tripod and camera. Apparently, the idea is to take a family Halloween portrait.

And they all want Akaashi to be part of it.

It’s strange, the warm feeling that seeps into Akaashi as he stands there, surrounded by the entire Bokuto clan. This big family, as close as they are, have pulled him so effortlessly into their unit. Too often has Akaashi felt like he doesn’t belong—but not tonight. Not with them.

He only hopes that Koutarou will be welcomed as warmly into his own family someday.

The party rages on until early in the morning. Akaashi dances, drinks and eats a bit too much, but so does everyone else, so he doesn’t feel too embarrassed. 

Its nearing 2am as he and Koutarou stumble upstairs. They rub most of the makeup off their faces before heading to Koutarou’s childhood bedroom, where they strip out of their costumes and slip under the bedclothes. Keiji giggles as his boyfriend burrows into his neck, hot breath tickling skin. 

“Koutarou,” he chides, “your parents are right outside.”

He feels the man smile. “They wouldn’t care. I mean, we’re all adults here.” 

Keiji scoffs, pushing him back enough to duck down and lock their lips. The kiss lingers, then deepens, but they are both too tired to go very far with it. Instead, they settle into each other’s embrace, sleep creeping into their bodies slowly.

Keiji feels so content here. So safe. So happy. “Thank you for inviting me tonight,” Keiji mutters into his boyfriend’s chest. The man shifts slightly, tucking his chin over black curls.

“Happy Halloween, Keiji.”

“Happy Halloween, Koutarou.”

//

Hope you all enjoyed this silly little thing. I am only posting it to Tumblr, as I do not want to clog the Twitter timeline with a long thread. So PLEASE help me out with a reblog!  Likes and replies are appreciated, but a reblog allows this story to reach another possible reader. Thank you and Happy Halloween! 🎃🖤

[cielcreations]

Little Fairy (Rancher Duo Fanfic)

Tango was a fairy who lived in a little town called Hermitcraft. He wasn’t sure who came up with the name, but it didn’t matter. He needed a few more leaves, string, and other items to help restock his shop as well as build his Decked Out game (it was turning out to be a bigger project than he intended).

He began to pick out some leaves from the trees as well as fallen leaves (the different colors would look amazing in all his buildings!), putting them in his bag. He continued to fly around, going to the flower field and picking off the petals. He continued to fly around, happily gathering petals, leaves, moss, vines, and anything else he could carry in his hands or bag. Once he finished, he began to fly home.

He was humming and singing to himself, flying home and not paying attention as he did. He suddenly ran into something and gasped. He groaned, realizing he was caught in a spider's web. The blonde tugged against the web, groaning.

"C-Crap!" He yelled, tugging as he called for someone, "HELP! IMPULSE?! ZED?! SOMEONE?!"

He struggled, tugging on the web, scared. The web was made, the spider had to be somewhere, and Tango would be its next meal if he didn't run.

"HELP!" Tears came to Tango's eyes, "HELP MEEEE!"

He began to cry, sobbing as he tried to pull out. He heard crunches of branches and dead leaves, turning his head and seeing a human. The human had dirty blonde hair and sky blue eyes, pale skin. He wore a white button up shirt, a blue cardigan, black pants, and back shoes. Tango whimpered, shaking as the human stared.

"A... fairy..." The human blinked. He then gasped, "O-Oh my god, you're stuck in a spiderweb!"

The human stepped forward and Tango stiffened more. He heard the stories of humans! They crush fairies, use their wings as trophies! He was shaking and crying as the human's hands got closer. The human gently put his hands behind and over Tango, gently cupping him. Tango closed his eyes, preparing to be crushed to death. Would any of his friends find him? What would the human do after he was crushed?

"Are you alright?" The human cooed.

Tango hesitantly opened his eyes and saw the human was looking down at him in concern. He blinked and squeaked as the human gently removed the spiderweb from his wings.

"There you go." The human smiled, "You're okay, right? Not hurt?"

Tango shook his head, blushing darkly as he stared at him.

"Good. Do you need help? Can you fly? I can-"

Tango quickly flew off without a second thought.

"Ah, IF YOU NEED HELP, I LIVE IN THE HOUSE OUTSIDE THE WOODS!" The human called.

Tango turned around, hiding in the trees as the human smiled softly, walking back out of the woods. He blushed. The human's hands were so soft, so warm, he was so gentle and kind.

He flew home.

***

Tango sat on top of the windows of the house. 

Why he chose to come to the human’s house, he had no idea. He just... maybe he wanted to see the human again. He wasn’t sure why though, he was still really scared. But... 

He gasped the windows opened, looking over the sill and watching as the human set out a flower and a note. He also put a pencil out and placed... something on a napkin.

"There." The human spoke, "Hopefully that fairy is okay... He seemed a bit scared and nervous..."

He then seemed to move back and Tango flew down, hiding behind the flower pot, looking into the house and seeing the human was gone. He tiptoed over to the note and knelt down, reading it.

To the fairy I met yesterday. I hope you are doing okay. I didn't mean to scare you and I didn't mean to hurt you if I did. I hope you are okay and here's a piece of chocolate! You can come by any time if you want a piece or if you just need a place to stay. Take care. -Solidarity

"You didn’t hurt me..." Tango muttered to himself, I was just scared.

Tango then looked over, picking up the pencil with difficulty. He had to fly just to hold it and, with a lot of perseverance (despite how heavy it was), managed to write a simple 'thank you', even if it was a bit sloppy.

Tango panted, sweating from holding the heavy pencil, wings tired from using them so much. He groaned and let go of the pencil as his wings gave out. He was about to fall and the pencil was going to crush him, until a hand reached out and caught him.

The dirty blonde stared at the panting fairy, "You... You're the fairy from yesterday... OH!" He put Tango down, "You poor thing, you look exhausted! Are you okay?! Was the pencil to big?! C-Crap, s-stay here! I'll grab some water."

Tango tried to stand up as the human left, fluttering his wings, "O-Ow-!" He groaned, Nope, they’re too sore...

The human came back, pulling a chair in front of the window as he sat down. He opened a bottle of water, carefully pouring some water in the cap before holding it to Tango’s lips, "Here, drink up."

Tango held the cap and drank from it. Once he finished, he looked down, blushing in embarrassment, "Thank you!"

The human smiled, "Your welcome! Uh, have you tried the chocolate? I wasn't sure if you would like it, but I figured it was a good guess. Who doesn't like chocolate?"

"I-I’ve never had it..." Tango admitted, "Fairies can't make it."

"Well, it's really good!" The human gently broke the smallest piece he could before offering it to Tango, "Here!"

Tango hesitantly took and ate it, smiling brightly, "It's amazing!" He smiled up at the human, "Thank you!"

The human smiled, "You're welcome." He offered his hand, "My name is Solidarity."

"My name is Tango!" The blonde smiled.

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you. Come back anytime. And here." Solidarity wrapped the remaining chocolate in the napkin, using a small string to tie it and make a handle, "Just make sure to eat it soon, chocolate will melt!"

Tango nodded, holding the makeshift bag, "Thank you!"

Solidarity smiled and nodded. He waved as Tango flew off with his new treat.

[liyaawrites]

𝟔:𝟎𝟐𝐚𝐦 - 𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 + 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐞𝐬

"Bee-Bee," La'Noya hums from across the room, catching Hobie's attention almost immediately, his ears intricately attuned to the sound of her voice, "come here."

"Eh?" He hums himself, rising from his hunched over position, his staggering height making itself known with the shadow that's casted from the pretty purple color from the LED light bulb that shines in her dresser lamp. He'd been tuning his guitar in preparation for his usual nightly strumming session, a habit he'd picked up since meeting the dark haired woman. "What're you on about?"

"Just come here," La'Noya sucks her teeth, "why you always gotta question me?"

"What is it, Kit?" Yet his feet are already taking his body towards the plush couch she rests on. She's wearing a pair of his jogging pants, the waistband cuffed over a couple of times so that the pant length would match her shorter legs, and a cropped tank to battle the increased summer heat. He can't see much her face - styled coils hang just over her eyes, leaving only the nose down visible to the eye, and yet despite the suspected inconvenience of it, she likes the mysterious look. Hobie does, too - they both know this.

Hobie takes a seat next to her, and the second he does so, her body turns to his own. She props herself on her knees and leans close into his space. The strong scent of lavender and something sweet consumes his senses; it's almost dizzying to him. Despite knowing it's her signature scent, it still overtakes him completely. He wasn't complaining, however; in fact, he rather enjoyed the invasion of it, allowing the scent to calm the tension in his body he hadn't known had been stored.

It takes Hobie a moment to recognize the dull tugging sensation along his scalp means that she's in his head. "What're you doing, love?"

"You've got lint in your wicks," La'Noya responded in a sort of matter-of-factly tone, "they're bothering me."

"Of course they bother you," Hobie teases, "not like I give a shit about 'em."

"Spiderboy can at least not look like he's walked through a nest of spiderwebs, yeah?"

Both fall silent as Hobie commemorates the feeling of her hands in his hair to memory. She's careful with it, mindful of any sore spots on his scalp as well as the strength she uses to pick out the pesky lint bunnies that have made themselves home in the punk-alt man's head. She knows she can't get them all out, but the attention and care she pays to him is always heartwarming to Hobie.

There comes a point where Hobie, unable to resist the alluring scent on her skin, leans into the crook of La'Noya's neck. His right arm snaked around her midsection, large hand splayed across her back, unconsciously rubbing strokes and tracing patterns into the barely clothed skin. She feels so warm under his fingers, it numbs his mind slightly. Everything slows, as all he can focus on is her.

"There," La'Noya says, her hands falling from his hair and instead resting on his wide shoulders, "much better."

It takes him a moment to realize you've finished, not yet ready to leave the comfort of your skin, but pulls himself off anyway. "Thanks, kitty cat," Hobie murmurs, a lazy grin tugging at his lips while his droopy brown eyes gaze into yours.

"Anything for you, Spiderboy," she hums like a purr, her hand raising to caress his cheek while her lips pressed a short, sweet kiss onto his forehead.

[circuitsofgold]

Title: Untitled

Pairing: Clyson

Rating: M

Summary: A fuck or die/sex pollen fiction in the spirit of Valentine’s day. :D Prince Clu goes mucking about where he shouldn’t and has to suffer the consequences.

Notes: Fantasy AU

Here it was the feast of St. Valentine and Prince Clu didn’t have anything to get the one he loved. The problem was that his lover was a Siren. Sugar didn’t agree with them so chocolates were out. Roses would likely be eaten. And Clu couldn’t exactly write poetry.

Just about the only things Sirens enjoyed were shiny things. Trinkets and the like. Clu could just as easily give Dyson a bag of gold coins and he’d be happy. 

But that seemed too easy.

So Clu rode into the Great Forest looking for something that might appeal to a Siren. At a certain point, his horse refused to go any farther. Something about the horses not tolerating Faes. Clu tied it to a tree with enough slack that it could still eat before continuing on his own.

He had thought he brushed against a spiderweb but then he felt like something physically hit him. And then he got the oddest feeling in the pit of his stomach. Like when Dyson’s delicate fingers touched it. Clu looked down at his fingers and saw something that was green and sparkly. He raised his fingers to his face and sniffed at it. It smelled like the forest but there was some sort of sickly sweet undertone. 

The powder or whatever it was all over him. Maybe Alan would know. And if it was what he thought it was... he was hoping Alan would not be in his study when he returned.

When he returned to the castle, the Prince was in luck. The wizard was not in. Which was a good thing because Clu had a rather impressive hard on. As luck would have it, his armor did not cover his groin. Something he had to often wonder if that was intentional or a design flaw.

Clu returned to looking through the books, though having a rather difficult time focusing. But then he found it. Clu skimmed the pages growing ever more incredulous and uncomfortable by the second.

“You have got to be kidding me.” He said out loud to no one as he made to ride to the lagoon. Dyson was going to have a field day with this one.

----

Dyson had been stringing gold buttons to make a belt when he caught a different scent. Leather, sweat, horses. Human male. Which would mean Clu was coming to visit. But there was something decidedly off about his scent. There was a rather strong sickly sweet scent about it that spoke of pheremones.

The Elder Siren sent the others in the Brood away. If Clu was coming in a mood, they would need their privacy. He slipped into the water to wait for Clu’s approach. And when he surfaced, the human was removing his armor. On which there was a green powder which made Dyson lift a brow. That accompanied by the erection straining at the crotch of his pants tied it all together.

“You went mucking about with in the Great Forest and got hit by a damiana interitio trap. Didn’t you?” Dyson asked as if he could not believe Clu’s stupidity. “Come on. I have to save your foolhardy life.” He instructed before heading to the sunning rock hearing Clu following him in the water.

When Clu got to the sunning rock, Dyson had already shifted to his legs and had gathered a jar of some sort of fluid. “Take off your clothes. You would have anyway.” The wet clothing was peeled away from tanned flesh. Up close like this, Dyson could see that the pupils of Clu’s eyes were blown wide.

Dyson takes note, as he always does, of the various scars and bits of ink decorating his Prince’s body. A rather impressive scar resting in the divot of one hip, likely from a blade of some sort. Other various scars from swords and jousting. His tattoos do not detract from his value but add to it.

“I’ve tried to take care of this myself. It would seem that the terms require another.” Clu spoke, sounding very apologetic. Well, the human was aware he messed up. Dyson quieted him. “I’ll take care of you.” He soothed as he pressed the jar into the human’s hands. “The terms are that you have to fuck or you will die.” He explained as he unwrapped his silks, his own loins twitching at the prospect.

Dyson had only done the act once before with his Prince. It had hurt afterwards but for the most part it had been pleasant. Clu had been patient and gotten him loose and needy. Depending on how long the human had been stubborn, there might not be time for that.

Clu was coating his fingers with the oily fluid so Dyson scooted close between Clu’s parted legs. The Prince parted the Siren’s ass to tease at the hole between them. Dyson shuddered before winding his arms about the golden Prince’s neck, lifting himself up onto his knees to give those questing fingers more access.

Dyson turned his head to catch his Prince’s mouth in a needy kiss. Pressing in with his tongue to taste his Prince’s mouth. Clu had a metallic taste to him, like biting down on a gold coin. His lips part to allow the human to breathe just in time to feel the fingers withdrawing from him. On cue, Dyson got the jar. “I want to do this.” He explained as he got some of the oil to coat his own hands with as his silver eyes settle on his human’s rigid length.

Clu hissed as the cold hands touched his heated cock. But cool skin was a constant with the Siren he had become attracted to. Fingers closed around his flesh to properly anoint it in the slippery liquid. “Dyson. Please... I need to...” The Prince begged and Dyson understood. Not wishing to prolong his human’s suffering anymore than he had to.

He put his hands on Clu’s broad shoulders. “Hold it steady, my love.” The Siren murmured as he positioned himself. He had been craving this feeling again though he had imagined it under different circumstances. It hurt initially with each new movement downward but when he bottomed out into Clu’s lap, he felt one of the human’s arms wrapped around him to reposition him.

The human’s clothes were bunched up and placed under Dyson’s head for a makeshift pillow. “Don’t hold back, my love.” Dyson murmured running his fingers over the soft stubble along Clu’s jaw. The human needed a release and a release he would have. Clu nodded and he started moving his hips with a groan that he was giving into his body’s desires.

The Siren wrapped his legs around the Prince’s waist as his hands grasp the human’s shoulders. Determined the ride out Clu’s demanding movements. He felt one of Clu’s warm hands reaching between them to stroke his own aching flesh in time with his thrusts.

It seemed to be soon that Dyson felt just as hot as the human on top of him was. Though he knew there was no change in his body temperature. Dyson cried out as he came onto Clu’s muscled stomach. He heard Clu give an almost pained sound as he too had a much needed orgasm. Then Clu’s arms gave out.

Dyson switched positions with Clu. He cleaned up his human and then covered up Clu’s nakedness with his abandoned silks. The Siren abandoned his own human legs and settled beside the Prince to conserve his energy when he had his tail back. “You need to rest now, my love. I’ll be right here.”

Clu was too worn out to argue against it. So he closed his eyes. Dyson smiled and rested his own head on Clu’s chest. Listening to his heart beating. That precious sound was the last thing he heard before he drifted off to sleep himself. Nestled in the warm arms of his human lover.

[scurvgirl]

The VMA fashion this year was so bad I have to talk about it. Under the cut for length. If you liked the fashion this year, feel free to move on. Also, this is about the FASHION and NOT the people. And these are just my personal thoughts - I am very much just someone who casually enjoys fashion but damn. I have THOUGHTS right now.

Nicki Minaj in Dolce & Gabbana.

This isn't 100% hideous because waist up, it's beautiful - the viel and the bustier are lovely. Waist down is a different story. The panty is so boring and then the V to mid-thigh seam is just...SO BAD. SO SO BAD! It looks like a cheap, grandma curtain. There are four different lace patterns here and they're not blending well at all. The color is nice on Nicki's skin but I cannot look away from those seems, they are so so bad.

Taylor Swift in Versace

Girl I am so sorry they did this to your boobs. They look lopsided and just...bad. Otherwise, this is a really boring black dress. the buttons are...there I GUESS. But the rushing looks so frumpy around her right hip and it's just...bad.

Cardi B in Dilara Findikoglu

This would be 100% better with 66% less skirt. As it is, it looks EXTREMELY uncomfortable and the balance of this kind of material to skin is off for me.

Doja Cat in Oscar de la Renta

This isn't fucking fashion. I don't care if it's Oscar de la Renta, this looks like she walked through one of those bagged spiderweb things you get for your bushes on Halloween. Just because your tits are out and you're wearing nude shoes and a thong and your head is shaved doesn't mean that everything you put on your body is fashion. This isn't against Doja Cat, this is just...not fashion. There is nothing inspiring about this.

Megan Thee Stallion in Brandon Blackwood

We've seen this. It's not bad, Megan looks great. But it's boring.

NSYNC

Isn't the point of coming out of the closet to embrace your true gay self and to make sure your fellow boy bandmates don't dress poorly? I mean, this is just...sad.

Charlie D'Amelio in Shushu/Ton

I actually don't mind the dress, but the hair with it is just...and the pose...something feels sinister here. Janelle Monae could have rocked tf out of this but instead we get this.

Sofia Carson in Alexandre Vauthier

Alright sequined Cookie Monster, come through. I see you. The color is great, I like the play on small to big sequins, but the design of the bottom half is bizarre to me. They look like dragonborn legs meets harem pants.

Bebe Rexha

Girl, why'd you hot glue a horse tail to your ass?

Karol G in Ashi Studio

I actually like the dress and coat (contrast to Doja's, there is structure and interest to this beyond just using Karol's body). I'm just putting this here because it is clearly so heavily inspired by Kylie Sonique Love. The doors she has opened.

Quincy Combs

The depressive state of men's fashion in one photo. Just...ugh.

Nicky Hilton wearing something a middle aged mom in Dillards would see and go "Kaylee!! This is so cute!"

Jennifer Aydin

Wearing something you pick up on the Jersey Shore for a shotgun wedding.

JT in Mirroir Palais

Someone help my fellow big tittied girl, if she takes a breath, those puppies are breaking loose. Dear designers - please fit thine cups properly. Girl is slightly hunching too to keep it together. Yeesh. (Love those shoes though)

Kaliii

What is with this trend of cutting at the mid-thigh? It's terrible! It's disjointed, confusing, and not in a good way. I am all for fashion that is just WEIRD, I'm here for it. But this isn't that, this is seriously trying to be pretty and it's just not. Also, girl, there is a better shade of orange out there for you, get something with a dash more red so it doesn't wash you out.

Not all the fashion was this bad. So here are some notable wins in my book.

Prince Derek Doll - understood the fucking assignment. This is stunning!! I WISH they had dropped the designer's name because they deserve recognition.

The Warning. I don't know who you are but I am gay and no immune to latex vampire dress vibes and chunky heels. You look great and I'm gay, so gay.

Maneskin because fuck gender, I'm gay, and YEEEEEEES.

Shensea. This gives me huge Him vibes from the Power Puff Girls and I am HERE for it. I love everything here, there's camp with the tiny bag and the glasses, sexiness, and just overall FUN. It's great.

Chris Olsen. I think men need to dress like this more often. If we're gonna see lady tits, I also wanna see man tits.

Coco Jones in Moschino. I love the early 2000s R&B vibes, the sleekness, the overall vibe - just great.

All photos are from E!online

[seizethejay]

Building out my own Taylor conspiracy 😅. I am neurodivergent and tend to see connections everywhere, so I understand I’m probably connecting dots that aren’t there. But these are some of my notes. (I’m a little socially anxious, but I wanted to share just in case!)

Overall theory: all clues have been set over time, and point to her having B-side tracks (Bonus tracks) hidden in double grooves. Possibly in the rereleased vault record versions (“red”). Maybe this makes the third volume that seems to be hinted at through the Wiccan references (incense, burning, rebirth, Celtic). (I don’t have the funds to get a record player atm, but feel free to check! Some 3-sided LPs go undiscovered for years).

- Indigo bookstore had an event same day as midnights release. The “early Christmas” was 3 days long. The woman in the photo had blonde hair and was wearing pants with the same birds as Taylor in her 1989 photo, possibly. The items promoted were the same Colors as swift’s midnights themes, and also included things like “main character energy” coffee, journals, quills and pens, and retro items.

- in her promo video with the midnights mayhem calendar release, the purple pen on the table was missing a cartridge. The filler purple gel cartridges on Amazon had reviews saying they had “double-labels”. A fan later reported that her record had an incorrect double label.

- the items in the indigo Christmas event included Jurassic park (Laura dern also supports this connection), games like monopoly vault edition (Taylor vault), Disney (which also has a vault collection), marvel, Harry Potter

- there was a book on Amazon related to the poetry ones by June bates which had reviews showing it burned and run over- told me there were more clues later out. The reviews also mentioned it having “a lot of blank space”.

-spiderweb reference in her song could also be highlighting both marvel universe (multiverse, multitrack record- double grooves) as well as the “spinning” aspect that spiders do.

- her poetry stuff (whether the fan found ones or her old poetry that was confirmed) speaks to hidden meanings, hidden layers, multiple meanings- hidden tracks, multitracks

- the fans in her video - accordion style fold, hidden picture in grooves. Only seen when opened and extended.

- Spotify had “Fred again” on a playlist with Taylor - they are putting out a third volume, suggesting a third volume for Taylor…the review on the site mentioned “13 minutes” weirdly, as well as the “voice note” sound which was also in Taylor’s song.

- Carly Rae had bonus tracks and references to things like “reputation”. Death and rebirth of Taylor Wiccan style.

- Chanel connections because of “Chanel #5” = her fifth song

-unsure, but blondie connection and video I found > heart of glass > throne of glass strong female character wielding sword and being the antihero type (trilogy)

-June’s midnight clue app game like June her possible pseudonym

- Taylor’s clock also perhaps functions as a pentacle, with all of her witch references and burn references. The incense. The gems. This would mean spirit has not been captured on these four records.

- The Wiccan references also speak to the plural midnights and I’ve also picked up a lot of “mother” references. I think it’s referring to the triple goddess which is tied to the moons.

- the grooves of a record track are almost like chevron and can be seen all over her outfits, videos, Easter eggs on Spotify.

- the connecting the dots of all of this = the stars aligning. Possible hinting to hidden tracks on previous vinyls.

- there’s something on her red album I think. The amount of things speaking to 5 (the mahogany album- which aligns with fire and red). Also quotes online of it being a voice from the dead on the 45 rpm records. Look for hidden grooves!

- Meghan trainor (had Easter egg at end of made you look video), Carly Rae, and her all had release on same day. She did two releases so far. One more to come. Three moon phases.

- could release of edging/edge themed music from blink 182 be reference to edge of record for needle aligning?

- Wikipedia for midnights says “subtle grooves” - look for those hidden grooves on the vinyl! Read up on 3-sided LP vinyls (like Monty Python).

- perhaps donuts stuff from Taylor ties into the “matching handkerchief and tie” pattern on the Monty Python album?

- retro car = vintage = stereo tracks (2) and cassettes (side a and b), plus glitchy 3D retro colours and views are two different sides. Pointing to vinyl having two.

- M themes for Taylor - Eminem released red records with side b

-underwood typewriter Ryan Reynolds used in commercial references “under wood” b-side of mahogany…oorrrrr of red (redwood) (again, themes of red, five, and forest)

-Spotify has “The Marvel Years - Hidden Grooves”

- lots of artwork on songs on Spotify within lists containing new Taylor Swift show artwork with concentric circles themes

- gemstones can also cross into Harry Potter (magic) and marvel (end game) and multiverse references, but also are laser-cut…like Celtic patterns and like the labyrinth album cover on the floor in her midnights photo. Laser cut like vinyls.

- witches/Wiccan theme = incense from lavender haze,

- sexy baby reference if from 30 rock, the character was “threesome loving”.

-Spotify = Hecate episode by Laura lavender; really anything you search for on Spotify to dead with hidden tracks, or witch vibes, or new releases suggested seem to speak to concentric circles and grooves.

-Beatles refs = red years.

-Jurassic park- eggs hatching now that were from long ago (hidden tracks, old vinyls)

- Disney could also connect to Sydney which maybe relates to her Australian references (lucky one- track without lyrics on Spotify) and the idea of the “land down under”, which I’ve also connected with the upside down in stranger things. All of these for me point to her having B-side tracks (Bonus tracks) hidden in double grooves. Possibly in multiple records. These ones and old vault ones undiscovered.

@taylorswift

[latenightsearlymorns]

Idiots, every single one of them.

Idiots, every single one of them.

Pitter, patter, pitter, patter. 

They could all have what they want, if they only knew. Just how close they are.

Just a few more steps, to the right. To the riiight…

“Hmmmmnph” I groan. The attendee notices and walks over towards me. 

No, the other way stupid! I flutter my eyes, trying to show him the way. I even gesture with my hand. What more does he want me to do?

“Hmmmmnph!”

“What’s up, Jace? Wanted me to come say hi?” The attendee smiles. ‘Shit. Maybe I got too excited.’ He should have kept walking to grab his coffee. Then he would have passed by the waiting room on the way to the break room, and he would have seen the local game playing on tv, which would have reminded him to place his bet on time. There, he could have won $200, easily, and I know he was low on his rent. ‘It was a sure thing.’

“They feed you yet buddy?” The attendee smooths my hair. “You look a little moody.” Concern spreads across his face. 

I smile, put my hand on his shoulder and give him my blessing. Dwayne, the attendee, loves it.

“Big smiles! I thought you were mad there for a sec’, buddy. Did they forget to give you your sauce? Hey, Charyl?”

“What’s up?” Charyl has an attitude today. I love it.

“Have we not given him his sauce yet?” Dwayne asks.

“It’s not time for his applesauce.”

Those fools. 

“It’s past 10:30.”

“He usually doesn’t have his sauce until lunchtime.“

My applesauce time is at a quarter ‘till 3, with my afternoon meds.

“His applesauce time is at a quarter ‘till 3, with his afternoon meds,” says Katie.

Ah. There is still hope. It’s a shame. They just don't know.

They don’t know I can see them; spare moments imposed over reality. The choices brooding over a person, and the possible consequences that come with that decision. Most of them really don’t affect your day, hardly, but how many decisions do you make in a minute? A second? I can see all of them. 

Flittering, like frames in a movie. 

Trouble is, I can’t tell ya. You wouldn’t understand. The words are lost in the process, like most of my motor function. Also, my attention.

You all mean very little to me, truly. You never listen anyways. Having said that, I’ve taken a liking to some of these nice people. 

I tried, for instance, to tell Gary not to go snorkeling. I already knew it was a bad idea, and then I saw him walk in with neon green goggles and the vision hit me. I tried getting his attention, but he thought I just really liked his goggles. Dead within 48 hours. What a shame too, I did like his goggles.

No, I can’t read your mind… I think? But I have plenty of time to study you. What you say, who you’re involved with. It’s surprising what you talk about when you think no one else is listening. Again, I don’t really care. Just please, put my show back on. Arthur’s not paying attention, he’s playing with his tablet. He’s gonna lose that game… He’s gonna be grumpy the rest of the day. Until dinner, of course. 

I don’t have time to feel bad because you can’t take a hint. It doesn’t mean I’m not invested though.

I just about made the orderly shit her pants after she debated sending that risky text. I had already seen the wedding gown she was gonna wear, all she had to do was go for it. ‘Yeah, I love Korean BBQ. What time?’  I saw it on her screen. Wedding confirmed. I yelled so hard she dropped her phone, spiderweb cracks forming across the screen, shattering it; along with any chance of a June wedding anytime soon. What a night. Good. Guy was a scrub anyway.

I’m conflicted though. I don’t understand why, but there is a future that hasn’t been made clear yet. It’s slowly coming into focus, which is odd. Most of my visions are fierce. No one knows I’m having them. I can’t share them, so they are only mine. 

I can’t get past Thursday the 17th.

It’s taken a while to notice. At first, it was just… cloudy. I’m telling you, I can see things MONTHS ahead. With ‘wedding gown orderly,’ she was set to tie the knot almost a year to the text. It was supposed to be “romantic”, or whatever. I saved your life, girl.

No… no it’s too… I know I’m sick. Being the way I am, I never expected myself to grow old. I can hear your conversations. I was lucky to be born when I was. Even being born the way I was, I lived my life. I am grateful, even as I drool on myself and mumble. YOU can’t understand me. I just wanted to tell you I’ve lived a full life, thanks to you.

The 17th is on the horizon. I know it’s the 17th, because your son has his game that day. You keep talking about it. I’ve seen you in his games, in my visions… He has talent. He can move his legs. I’m not jealous. I just know he’s lucky to have you. I do care, it turns out, just a little bit.

Even as you clean me up every night, I wonder if you can understand that my time is close too. I see you getting more and more worried every night, concerning me at least. I can’t see into my own future. It’s never been important anyways, to me at least. I can see you’re expecting something. You check on me more frequently, I can tell. I can hear you enter my door more and more each night. Seeing how well I’m sleeping. I sleep just fine, thank you for worrying.

It’s two hours into the 17th day of November. My breathing has always been an issue, but tonight I cannot sleep properly. I feel something in my lungs. I can’t tell you, but something tells me you already know. I’m not used to being the one guessing. It actually can be quite scary when you’re not sure what comes next. My chest feels tight. I think I’m going to take a nap early, my eyes are growing heavy. I don’t know how or when I’m going to die today, but at least I can choose to fall asleep, on my own terms.

[tabooiart]

some doodles of my interpretation of Lydia when she gets older

[thebibliosphere]

soooo I’m finally watching Marie Kondo’s Netflix show in an attempt to motivate myself to clean my room, and while a lot of the tips seem like things that will be good for my ADHD and anxiety, the homes she looks at are... kind of already clean? Like, no dust, no trash, no dirty laundry, no spiderwebs. There’s lots of clutter, but not a lot of actual dirtiness. And especially with my worsening depression, I’ve been trying not to think about how bad my room is for so long that there are Actual Cobwebs in a couple corners. I know I’m an extreme exception, but if you had any tips on how to tackle that aspect, I would fully appreciate it

 Marie Kondo is less of a “clean your home” show and more of a “keep it organized.”

It’s also important to remember that no matter how real the people are, parts are staged. Because I guarantee you, some of those houses with the amount of clutter that is in them? Will absolutely have dust, cobwebs, and mold problems. We’re just not being shown them.

But that doesn’t mean you also can’t use Marie’s techniques to actually clean.

I’ve talked before about removing the lid from the laundry hamper helped ETD actually start putting laundry in the basket instead of on the floor/any flat surface. What I’ve yet to talk about is how that in no way helped us keep on top of doing laundry. The thing that really helped us was buying multiple cheap laundry baskets (this kind) and sorting our laundry out as we got changed. For example, there are three laundry baskets lined up near the door in our bedroom. One has t-shirts, another one has underwear, and another has, like, pants and jeans and shit. They serve both as visual reminders that we need to do laundry and help with pre-sorting laundry. Once they get full to a certain point, it’s time to do a laundry load.

We’ve also got baskets like these for towels, kitchen things and bed linens. Everything just goes into visible baskets, which can, if necessary, be stacked and shoved into a closet if company suddenly comes over. (Though that doesn’t happen so much these days.)

I also use spare hampers for doing 15-minute-pick-ups, which is exactly what it sounds like. I set a timer for 15 minutes, and I pick things up from places where they don’t belong and throw them in the hamper. So, for example, Holly’s toys and blankets are currently scattered all through the house. If I want to dust, vacuum, and clean, I will walk around the house picking her stuff up and putting it in the hamper, clearing a path for me to do the other things I need to do without worrying about organizing a space for her stuff. 

Another example would be my work desk. My work desk is currently covered in everything from my work printouts, bills I need to pay, medical gear like my blood pressure cuff, all my charging cables, multiple books, some of Holly’s toys, and for some unknown reason, four measuring tapes. If I want to dust my desk, I will put everything in a basket, wipe the surface down, then pick out the things that belong on my desk. Like the printouts and the bills. My desk is now, in less than 15 minutes, dust-free and organized. But Joy, you might say, what about the things in the basket? What do I do with those? Easy, keep them in the basket and take them to where they do belong. But what if the space they belong needs cleaned? Rinse and repeat, take your basket to the next space, clear everything into the basket, clean the area, then put back the things that belong. Congrats, you may have just cleared multiple spaces. And if you run out of energy in the interim? That’s okay; it’s better to have things contained in baskets than scattered everywhere across your house. It reduces them down to smaller problems and reduces your visual exhaustion from clutter, making tasks easier for ADHD brains in the long run. (This also works for other types of executive dysfunction. Visual exhaustion is a real problem for brains that are already trying their hardest.)

So, now you’ve got things sorted into manageable piles, what do you do next? You prioritize what is necessary for your space to be safe and sanitary. Cobwebs might be gross looking, but they’re not really an issue compared to, say, actual trash or dirty dishes that might be molding in your space. Remove those things first. Set another 15-minute timer, pick up as much trash as you can, and put it in a trash bag. If the timer runs out and you’re still good to go, set it for another 15-minutes, or keep going until you’re done. I find music helps. I’ve actually tricked my brain into realizing that dishes take me 12 minutes (instead of the literal hours my brain thinks it is), so for me, that’s 3-4 songs from my favorite band. Other people like to watch “clean with me” videos on youtube. They can be quite motivating, sort of like second-hand dopamine from watching people be productive.

 Once you’ve sorted one major task, assess how you’re feeling. Are you tired and need to stop? Great! You’ve achieved a lot already; well done. Have a sticker and or reward of choice. Tomorrow you will do another 15 minutes of something else, and slowly but surely, your space should become more manageable and less intimidating.

Think you can do more? Also great! Let’s maybe try to get the dishes next. After that, I’d suggest tackling the cobwebs, then dusting, then sweeping/vacuuming, and then if necessary, mopping the floor. And I don't mean all at once, I just mean in that order, just so you’re not having to go back and dust again.

I try to do 15 minutes of housework every day in this fashion. I also keep a rough schedule on our fridge and tick major tasks as we go. So did I do laundry this week? Yes! Excellent, gold star. No? Okay, well, that gets priority next week. (Still gold star for what I did achieve, though.)

It helps keep things manageable while also not being Too Much for either my ADHD or my physical disabilities. For some people, that 15 minutes is too much, and I would say even doing 5 minutes a day is better than none. Anything you can do to keep your living space safely habitable for both your mental and physical health is good and worthy of praise and pride.

Anyway, I hope some of this helps and wasn’t too long! 

Take care and good luck!

[hawksonfire]

tattoo parlour / mistaken identity, poly ship of your choice

Clint sits on the table, back far enough that he can swing his legs above the floor. This isn’t his first tattoo, by any means, but it’s the first one on his thigh and it’s with a new artist. He saw Bucky out there earlier, dealing with a kid who wanted some pokemon on his back, but only had time to say hi before he was bustled into this private room by an intimidating redhead who smacked Bucky’s ass on their way by.

“Take your pants off,” she says, snapping her latex gloves.

Clint almost makes a joke about how she should at least buy him dinner first, but he holds back. He doesn’t want to be that guy, after all. He shucks off his pants and lays them neatly on a chair, sitting down and stretching out his leg for her. “I shaved right before I came here,” he says when he sees her pulling out the razor.

She runs a finger up his thigh and nods, putting the razor away. “Would you prefer I speak or keep silent?” she asks him.

“I’ll be turning off my hearing aids,” Clint says. “The needle freaks me out, and if I can’t hear it, it’s better. Just grab my shoulder if you need to get my attention.”

She nods, and he turns off his aids, leaning back in the chair. He feels the stencil get applied and the tattoo start, and lets himself fall into a meditative state, closing his eyes and letting his mind drift. After a while, he feels a squeeze on his shoulder.

He opens his eyes and turns his aids back on, stretching out his shoulders. His thigh is burning faintly but he gets distracted as the artist speaks. “You sit very well,” she says, a hint of admiration in her voice. “We are done for today.”

Clint nods and looks down to see the tattoo, and his mind goes blank. “Uh,” he says, eyes wide. The tattoo is an intricate design of a spiderweb, pristine and fresh-made, until it reaches his inner thigh, where the delicate web begins to fall apart, becoming tattered and wispy.

“Do you not like it?” She asks, lifting an eyebrow.

“No, it’s gorgeous,” he assures her. “It’s just… I was supposed to get a tattoo of a quiver?”

She blinks at him. “No. You are Frank, right? Frank wanted a spiderweb.”

“Good for Frank,” Clint says, “But I’m Clint.”

Her face goes white and she shouts something in Russian out the door. After a moment, Bucky comes in. He sees Clint and his new tattoo, and he and the redhead have a rapidfire argument in Russian. “Clint,” Bucky says. “Nat’s real sorry she messed up, it’s on the house. And so is your next tattoo, if you choose to come back here. It’s my fault, really, I mixed up the numbers two and three in Russian.”

“I take it Frank is in room two,” Clint says dryly. He’s honestly not mad, not even a little. The tattoo is a gorgeous piece of work. “I appreciate the price, Buck. But I’ve got a better idea.”

“And that would be?” Nat says, lifting an eyebrow.

“Go on a date with me?” Clint asks sheepishly, suddenly uncomfortably aware he’s pantsless in front of these two. “I’ve had a crush on Bucky for forever, and something tells me you two come as a package deal.”

Bucky and Nat exchange a glance, and then Nat sidles up to Clint, smirking. “Do you sit as well as you do for tattoos doing other things?” She purrs.

Clint swallows. “I can certainly try.”

[storytellerofuntoldlegends]

touch and go: ch 1

A/N: so having a bunch of wips means you ignore them and post something new, right? anyway I’ve had this idea for an origins and last life crossover superhero au fic for a while now, and in a burst of inspiration i wrote it! well, two chapters of it. the second chapter you’ll probably get in a week or maybe sooner depending on my patience (and how much of this i manage to write before i lose steam). also this fic believes in he/they scott and she/her ranboo supremacy :D (their origins characters can fit so much gender in them) anyway, enjoy!

Warnings: violence, injury, moral dilemmas

Summary: Jimmy is just trying to live a peaceful life in Orilast City. However once he discovers he has superpowers, his whole life is thrown into chaos when powerful (and therefore dangerous) people want to get him on their side and use him for his powers. Meanwhile Scott is an up-and-coming hero from the city's famed Hero Alliance. But when an encounter with an unpredictable new super turns into a media uproar, his life becomes far more complicated as they navigate what it truly means to be a hero.

AO3 Link - Tumblr Masterpost

-

Jimmy always joked that his superpower was being really, really unlucky. Which definitely applied to this exact moment, as he was currently hurtling towards the ground at an alarming speed.

It had just been an ordinary day. He nearly spilled hot coffee all over himself on the daily coffee run for the office. Then he tried his best to sort through his paperwork, but he ended up dropping the folder and sent papers flying everywhere. And then when he finally made some headway on getting things organized and starting on what he was supposed to be working on, the building shook with the impact of a nearby hero and villain fight. His coworkers did the smart thing and ran- but Jimmy? Well, curiosity killed the cat for a reason.

So here he was, falling to the ground after another rumble had shaken the building, causing Jimmy to lose his balance and tumble out of a shattered window. Figures this is how he would go.

But then there was a streak of purple and blue light, and he was cradled against someone's chest. The world seemed to come to a standstill as Jimmy’s soft brown eyes met purple ones swirling with galaxies. Their hair was purple too, bits of lights like twinkling stars clinging to the strands. Stars dotted the stranger's cheeks like freckles, and a charming grin spread over their face.

And then they were plummeting to the ground again. A scream ripped from Jimmy’s throat as he clung tight to the stranger. But then they landed, the stranger landing on their feet and sending cracks spiderwebbing across the sidewalk with the impact.

"Take it easy, you’re safe now," the stranger said, before gently depositing Jimmy onto the ground. Jimmy finally got a good look at the rest of the stranger. Galaxies swirled along their skin, at least from their fingertips to their forearms. They wore a light blue overcoat with gold trim with a white shirt tucked into black pants, as well as a gold sash around their waist.

"Who are you?" Jimmy got out, not recognizing him as one of Orilast City's heroes.

"Call me Starboy," he said with another dazzling grin. With that, he leapt into the air with a burst of starlight, going back into the fray.

Jimmy watched with awe as Starboy fought alongside some more familiar faces that Jimmy knew- Crowfather, the Inch, Warp, and Blazeboy- against the feared Southlanders. The Southlanders were a dangerous ragtag group of rogues whose members shifted a bit, sometimes allying with the equally dangerous Fairy Fort, but the usual four were there: Pyroshadow, Mirage, the Detonator, and Scarletwing. Pyroshadow was a demon creature from another realm who excelled with technological devices as well as fire and shadow magic. Mirage could slip in and out of reality, showing up in one place only to vanish and appear in another. The Detonator could create explosives out of anything he touched. And their leader- Scarletwing- well, frankly he just seemed to be a guy with bright red parrot wings. But everyone feared him anyway.

Starboy was currently locked in combat with the dreaded Scarletwing. The villain was deft, gracefully swooping out of the way of Starboy’s blasts. It soon became apparent that the effort of keeping up the barrage was tiring Starboy out- and Scarletwing realized this with a wicked grin. He abruptly darted forward, arms wrapping around Starboy’s waist as he dived down, driving both of them through the crumbling wall of the very office building Starboy had just saved Jimmy from.

Scarletwing rose from the rubble. Starboy didn't. A satisfied grin broke out over Scarletwing's face, and he poised to strike a final blow-

"No!" Jimmy shouted, hand outstretched- and a burst of blue light hit Scarletwing right in the shoulder. The villain flew, hitting the rubble with a sickening thump. Jimmy stared at his hand in shock.

"Ugh, another starborne?" an irritated voice said behind him, paired with a hand on his shoulder. Jimmy whirled around to see Warp, jostling her hand from his shoulder as he did so.

"What- but I'm not a- what did you call me?" Jimmy frowned, confused. Hadn't his rescuer referred to himself as "Starboy" not "Starborne?"

Before Warp got a chance to answer, a chunk of rubble came hurtling towards them. There wasn't time to move or even scream, and Jimmy squeezed his eyes shut and braced for the inevitable…

But nothing came. Jimmy slowly opened his eyes, and found himself standing a few feet away from the rubble. Warp was stood on the other side of it, her mouth dropped open in shock.

"How did you- you teleport?! But that's my thing!" Warp whined, stomping her foot a little.

Suddenly, Warp's eyes widened and her pouty demeanor vanished into concern as her gaze locked on something behind Jimmy. Someone grabbed him from behind, an iron grip on his arms.

"Neat trick you pulled- maybe we should chat about that," a voice said gruffly- Mirage. Jimmy squirmed in his grip, panic coursing through his veins. He didn't know what was going on, he just wanted to go home-

And then energy flooded into Jimmy. He heard a sharp gasp from Mirage, his grip loosening- and Jimmy’s world suddenly tilted into light and color, flowing past him in an endless stream- until everything went dark.

-

Jimmy woke up in his sister's living room. Which was strange, because he didn't remember spending the night at Lizzie’s, nor did he remember doing so on the floor as opposed to the couch.

Then Jimmy registered the dust from the building rubble in his hair, as well as Lizzie and her husband, Joel, looking down at him with concern. Jimmy squeezed his eyes shut again with a groan, hoping that this was a dream.

“Oh no you don’t- Jimmy, what happened? How are you in my living room?!” Lizzie demanded, grabbing Jimmy by the shoulders and shaking him a little. Jimmy groggily opened his eyes, giving a defeated sigh. Not a dream, then.

“You think I know?! One minute I’m in the middle of a fight between Crowfather’s team and the Southlanders, and the next I woke up here!” Jimmy replied, voice a little frantic.

“You were in a fight?!” Lizzie asked, voice shrill. Joel soothingly patted her arm, noticing Jimmy’s wince at her tone.

“Well, I wasn’t exactly in the fight. It just sorta crashed into the office. And then I fell from the building- but I was saved by some new hero, Starboy…” Jimmy trailed off, thinking about the purple-haired hero, and how he sparkled and shimmered in the light- and then he remembered how he had gotten taken down by Scarletwing, and Jimmy felt sick. He had no idea if Starboy survived or not.

“Why’d you say his name like that?” Joel asked, squinting a bit at Jimmy. He flushed a little bit, and a wicked grin spread over Joel’s face.

“Don’t look at me like that! He just saved me, that’s all. I dunno if he’s even alive, he took a pretty nasty hit from Scarletwing,” Jimmy said, sitting up and scrubbing his hands over his face. Lizzie frowned a little, and shifted away from Jimmy to grab the tv remote.

The news flickered on, with a grainy picture of Jimmy on the screen. The picture shrunk down to go in the corner, revealing a newscaster standing in the rubble of the buildings from the fight.

“We have an exciting development from the fight against the Southlanders downtown- not only did Starboy make their debut as one of our newest heroes, but a new super revealed themself today- here we have Starboy to tell us about what he saw,” a newscaster announced, and Starboy came into the frame. Text appeared at the bottom of the screen, a scrolling message that read “Starboy (he/they) Shares All: Recounting the Tale of the Newest Super!” Despite being tackled through a wall, Starboy looked as radiant as ever. Jimmy sat up a little taller.

“I didn’t see a lot, but I was the one who saved them when they fell from the building. But then they ended up saving me back- they shot Scarletwing with this bright blue light, kind of like mine,” Starboy explained, summoning a sphere of starlight in their hand to demonstrate.

“So they’re a starborne, like you?” the newscaster asked.

“That’s what we thought at first, but then they teleported just like Warp does- and when Mirage tried to corner them, they vanished the same way Mirage does. And there are some starbornes who can teleport, but we do it in a burst of starlight, not purple sparks like Warp or slipping in and out of reality like Mirage. And they did both,” he explained, slight awe in his voice.

“Oh? Do I detect some admiration for this new hero?” the newscaster asked with a smile that made Jimmy think a little of a viper.

“Well, we don’t know their allegiances yet-”

“Ooh, star-crossed lovers, perhaps?” the newscaster interrupted, enjoying their own play on words far too much.

“I don’t even know them,” Starboy scrambled with a light flush that made the stars on his cheeks shine even brighter.

“Well I don’t know about you, but this picture submitted by an ameteur photographer sure shows some chemistry to me!” the newscaster chirped, and a picture of Starboy holding Jimmy in his arms came on screen. Jimmy had been staring open-mouthed at Starboy, clinging to their shoulders. Meanwhile Starboy had been looking at Jimmy with a dazzling grin, holding tight to him as they floated in the air. New text appeared at the bottom of the screen: “Romance Among New Heroes, or Star-Crossed Lovers?”

“Now I get why you said their name like that,” Joel murmured in a teasing tone. Jimmy’s face burned, and he buried his face in his hands. Lizzie turned off the tv, letting out a deep breath.

“So. When were you planning on telling me you had powers?” Lizzie demanded.

“Not like we’ve been super honest with him,” Joel muttered. Lizzie reached over to smack the back of his head.

“I didn’t know I had powers until today and- he wait what do you mean, not being honest with me?” Jimmy asked with a frown. Lizzie sighed, glaring at Joel a little, before waving her hand. Pink and yellow sparkles fluttered over her, and in a matter of moments iridescent wings sprouted from her back, and a flowery mask shimmered into place over her eyes. Jimmy jolted back, turning to look at Joel- whose appearance changed with a flurry of red sparks to reveal blood red eyes and a dark cloak.

Panic clutched at Jimmy’s throat. Because his sister and brother-in-law were two of the city’s most feared villains: the Fairy Queen and the Red Wizard. Together they led the Fairy Fort, a team of ruthless villains that tormented the city. They were at the center of many conspiracies and assassinations, and were known for frequent infighting amongst themselves as well as against other villain groups they allied with.

“Please don’t freak out,” Lizzie said, hands up placatingly.

“Bit late for that!” Jimmy squeaked, scrambling backwards. The Fairy Queen was ruthless, the Red Wizard was unhinged, and they were his family?! No way. Today had to be some sort of fever dream- first he got caught in a battle and found out he had powers, and now this?!

“I know we don’t exactly have the best reputation-”

“You think?!” Jimmy cried, cutting Joel off.

“But you don’t know those so-called ‘heroes’ like we do, they’re bad news- especially the Crowfather’s team,” Lizzie explained.

“And now they’re probably gonna be looking for you, with your whole… whatever is happening,” Joel added.

“Starboy seemed alright…” Jimmy said softly. Lizzie’s lips pressed together in a firm line.

“Maybe, but that’s how they start. All bright-eyed and hopeful, talking about how all they want is to help people- but then the power goes to their heads, and they just want to help themselves,” Lizzie said darkly. Jimmy frowned.

“But isn’t that what you and the Fairy Fort do?! You just do whatever you want, causing chaos and…” Jimmy trailed off as he remembered that this wasn’t just his sister he was snapping back at- this was a feared villain who wrought havoc over the city.

“It’s not as simple as hero and villain, Jimmy. The lines have always been blurred- it's just that the heroes don’t want you to know that,” Joel said bitterly.

“But you’ve killed people!” Jimmy sputtered. Joel just shrugged.

“It was me or them. Or they were gonna hurt Lizzie. But it’s not like they were great people either,” Joel said, resting what was probably supposed to be a comforting hand on Jimmy’s arm. But Jimmy jerked away- and red magic followed. It flowed into Jimmy, and he was overcome with simmering rage.

“What’s happening, what did you do to me?!” Jimmy demanded, quickly becoming overwhelmed by the surge of power.

“What do you mean, what did I do?! You’re the one taking my magic!” Joel gasped out, sounding a little like he had been punched.

“You can take people’s powers. That’s why you could shoot starbolts like Starboy, but then teleport like Warp, and then teleport like Mirage,” Lizzie murmured with intrigue in her tone.

“But I don’t want this- I don’t even know how I’m doing this!” Jimmy cried, red magic starting to surge around him.

“Whoa- hold on, let’s calm down first- my magic is tied to emotions, you’re gonna blow us all up at this rate,” Joel said, reaching out to take Jimmy’s hands to try and ground him.

This, however, turned out to be a mistake. Because more magic flooded into Jimmy, and Joel cried out in pain. Jimmy tore his hands out of Joel’s grip, scrambling away. Joel slumped over, and Lizzie was quick to rush to his side. She looked up at Jimmy, shock and horror in her eyes.

Jimmy ran before she could say anything, darting out the door and bursting into the sky with the Red Wizard’s- with Joel’s magic, ignoring Lizzie’s shouts after him.

-

mcyt general fic taglist: @actuallymothman @corazon10000 @damiensaidno @franticfandomfanatic @gattonero17 @hetapeep41 @meowdy-pickles @space-ace123 @vyeoh

[hlizr50]

Willow

TW: Nightmare at the beginning is of Gwyn's SA. Nothing detailed, but definitely more than I've done in the past

After a week of cuddling together when they sleep, Azriel and Gwyn spend their first night apart. At least, that's what they try to do. Spoiler alert - it doesn't work.

Read on AO3

She was shaking.

Large, rough hands roamed over her skin. Unwelcome. Unyielding.

Pain.

A scream ripped past her throat.

God, it hurt. It was unimaginable – a searing burn that reached straight into her soul, shattering her into shards so small that surely she would be broken forever.

“Feels good, huh, little red? You’ll never forget me now, will you?”

Gwyn sat up with a shriek, panting, hands frantically pushing away the sheet and the lingering spiderwebs of that unwanted touch. Thin t-shirt cotton clung to her freckled skin, damp with sweat as the nightmares purged from her.

Sucking in deep, heaving breaths, she covered her face with her hands. Hot tears coursed from the corners of her eyes.

She’d had a full week completely unbothered by these demons. A full week, every night spent in the arms of Azriel Aphelah. She had never felt so safe, so at peace.

But now…

She reached to her nightstand and found her phone, raising it to her face to check the time.

2:23am.

“Fuck,” she whimpered, opening her messages and finding the goodnight texts they’d exchanged hours earlier. She froze there, thumbs poised to start typing.

She shouldn’t bother him. She could deal with it. She had plenty of times before. But…

But she wanted him. Gwyn wanted him to be here. With her. She wanted to curl up in his arms and feel his long fingers tracing lines up and down her back, soothing her until she was pieced back together. Teal eyes stared at the phone as she pondered the conversation they’d had when she dropped him off.

“It feels… wrong. After a week, this will be the first night we won’t spend together,” Azriel murmured, leaning in her rolled-down window.

“Aww, you think you’ll survive without me?” she teased, nose scrunching. He flicked it before grasping her nape and leaning in to brush lips over hers.

“If you need anything, Gwyn, you call me. You understand?”

“You worry too much, Azriel,” she scoffed, even as her heart squeezed at his tenderness.

“Promise me, Gwyn,” he demanded, fixing her with a pointed look that screamed ‘I don’t trust you with this’. She tilted her chin up, earning another light kiss.

“I promise, Az,” she whispered.

“Okay. Drive safe, sunshine. Text me when you get home.”

And even with that assurance, even though she had promised, Gwyn hesitated with her thumb hovering over his name, glowing in the night. She didn’t want to be a burden to him. Didn’t want to seem broken or needy.

You don’t have to deal with this alone. Let us be here for you. Let me.

Promise me, Gwyn.

She took a big gulp of air and tapped on his name before bringing the cellphone to her ear as the tone began to sound.

“Gwyn?” The deep, rich voice on the other end seemed to instantly sooth the aching wounds around her heart. Her breath sawed in and out, voice unable to form words. “Gwyn? Are you okay, sweetheart?” The tears began rolling again at the endearment. God, if he knew what one word could do to her. What would he think?

“Az. I… I’m sorry. I didn’t… want to wake you. But-“

“Don’t apologize, sunshine. Just tell me what’s going on. Was it a nightmare?”

“Uh huh.” Gwyn choked on the sob that slowly bubbled up.

“Do you need me, sweetheart? I can come over,” he offered.

“No.” Yes. “No, that’s okay. I just… can we just talk for a little bit?” Gwyn swung her legs over the edge of the bed and rose to her feet before padding out of her bedroom and into the kitchen.

“Of course. What did you do when you got home? Get all that laundry loaded?”

She couldn’t be more grateful for his ability to immediately settle her, to give her exactly what she needed. A quiet giggle escaped her lips as she opened the fridge and fished out her water pitcher.

“I don’t appreciate your insinuation about the amount of laundry I created over the week,” she grumbled, pouring some to help soothe her throat and her mind.

“You had a suitcase full of dirty clothes, Berdara. It is not an insinuation, it is a fact,” a throaty chuckle rumbled through the phone, along with something that sounded like rushing air.

“Are you outside? It sounds… windy?” she asked.

“Nah, I just opened my window. Needed a little fresh air.” Gwyn shrugged as she returned the pitcher to the refrigerator door, finding comfort as he continued to talk as if they were just having a normal, daytime conversation. As if she hadn’t just roused him from deep sleep because she was now somehow too weak to spend a night alone. “I’ll be honest, I didn’t do a single scrap of laundry. I threw my bag on the couch and then just started looking at emails, then got distracted by the pictures Nesta sent.”

She grinned to herself, remembering the texts she’d received from Azriel about them. How he adored her smile. How beautiful she was. There was a picture of her sitting between his legs, her head tilted back laughing. His crooked smile so serenely painted across his handsome face. He’d said it was his favorite. She was inclined to agree, although she was sure it was for a different reason.

“You still in bed?” he asked softly.

“No, I came out and poured a glass of water,” Gwyn replied. “So I’m just sitting on the couch sipping on that. Trying to calm my nerves. Hopefully I’ll be able to get back to sleep in a little bit. Maybe I’ll put on a movie or something.”

“You mean you’ll watch The Little Mermaid for the thousandth time?” he teased.

“Do not judge me! I like singing and I like shiny things, okay?”

“I know, I know. I would never truly judge your comfort movie,” he laughed, the sound a light piercing through the night. “Hey. Speaking of singing, why don’t you sing a song for me?”

“What?” Gwyn balked, eyes wide. As if he were asking her to her face.

“Sing for me, sweetheart. You’re always so joyful and carefree when you sing. Maybe it’ll help.”

“Hmmmm.” Gwyn chewed on her lower lip, pondering. He’d heard her sing before. Many times. But somehow this felt… different. But, much like the decision to call him, she didn’t give herself time to question it.

I'm like the water when your ship rolled in that night Rough on the surface but you cut through like a knife And if it was an open-shut case I never would've known from that look on your face Lost in your current like a priceless wine The more that you say The less I know Wherever you stray I follow I'm begging for you to take my hand Wreck my plans That's my man

Life was a willow and it bent right to your wind (oh) Head on the pillow, I could feel you sneaking in As if you were a mythical thing Like you were a trophy or a champion ring And there was one prize I'd cheat to win The more that you say The less I know Wherever you stray I follow I'm begging for you to take my hand Wreck my plans That's my man You know that my train could take you home Anywhere else is hollow I'm begging for you to take my hand Wreck my plans That's my man

A knock sounded at the door and she gasped, turning toward it.

“Az… someone just knocked on the door,” she murmured, heart racing with barely contained panic. The answer she heard didn’t come through the phone, though. She heard it from the other side of the threshold.

“It’s me, sunshine. Now open up and let me take care of you.”

~~~

It wasn’t so much the ringing, but the vibration against the wood of the nightstand that woke Azriel from his admittedly light sleep. He squinted, pale face and teal eyes meeting his bleary gaze. Gwyn was calling, at… 2:24 in the morning? Worry twisted in his stomach as he answered.

“Gwyn?” All he could hear were her jagged breaths on the other end. He had a feeling he knew why she was calling. “Gwyn? Are you okay, sweetheart?”

“Az. I… I’m sorry. I didn’t… want to wake you. But-“

Immediately Azriel was up and moving, tossing a hoodie over his head and stalking toward the door. “Don’t apologize, sunshine. Just tell me what’s going on. Was it a nightmare?”

“Uh huh.” Her voice sounded so strained. As if she was holding on by a thread. Grabbing his keys and wallet he slipped out of the apartment.

“Do you need me, sweetheart? I can come over,” he offered.

“No. No, that’s okay. I just… can we just talk for a little bit?” Azriel thought to pause for a little, but then thought better of it. He had decided that night he found her screaming in her bed that he would not let her suffer alone. And he would hold to that.

“Of course. What did you do when you got home? Get all that laundry loaded?” He tried to keep his tone light, act like they were just having a normal, everyday conversation. As if she hadn’t just called in the middle of the night on the verge of tears. He climbed into his car as quietly as he could. He knew Gwyn would likely protest if she knew he was heading her way when she’d already said he didn’t need to. She didn’t seem to notice when the car started and he began driving down the road, but he was sure she might hear something in the background.

“I don’t appreciate your insinuation about the amount of laundry I created over the week,” she grumbled. A chuckle bubbled up from his chest.

“You had a suitcase full of dirty clothes, Berdara. It is not an insinuation, it is a fact.”

“Are you outside? It sounds… windy?” she asked.

“Nah, I just opened my window. Needed a little fresh air.” Azriel paused for a moment, breathing a silent prayer of thanks that she seemed to accept the explanation. “I’ll be honest, I didn’t do a single scrap of laundry. I threw my bag on the couch and then just started looking at emails, then got distracted by the pictures Nesta sent.”

He had been far more enamored with them than he cared to admit. His chest tightened when he saw her bright smiles and crinkled eyes. And the picture where she was laughing in his arms? It was like gazing into heaven.

“You still in bed?” he asked softly.

“No, I came out and poured a glass of water,” Gwyn replied. “So I’m just sitting on the couch sipping on that. Trying to calm my nerves. Hopefully I’ll be able to get back to sleep in a little bit. Maybe I’ll put on a movie or something.”

“You mean you’ll watch The Little Mermaid for the thousandth time?” he teased. She’d always had a soft spot for the movie, and he knew the music helped lull her to sleep.

“Do not judge me! I like singing and I like shiny things, okay?”

“I know, I know. I would never truly judge your comfort movie,” he laughed. But he needed a way to keep her on the phone until he got to her place. Something that wouldn’t be suspicious. “Hey. Speaking of singing, why don’t you sing a song for me?”

“What?” Gwyn balked. He could imagine the pink staining her cheeks under wide, innocent eyes and couldn’t contain the grin that tilted his lips.

“Sing for me, sweetheart. You’re always so joyful and carefree when you sing. Maybe it’ll help.”

“Hmmmm.” She seemed to contemplate on the other, the silence stretching. Perhaps it was too much to ask.

But even as he had the thought her sweet voice began drifting through the phone. It was a song her didn’t immediately recognize, but it didn’t matter. The melody was pure magic, settling him as he pulled up to her building and dashed out of his car and up the stairs. And when he heard her take a breath he rapped his knuckles on her door.

“Az… someone just knocked on the door.” He heard her voice through the phone. Lowering it from his ear, he called gently from the hallway.

“It’s me, sunshine. Now open up and let me take care of you.”

He heard her gasp and lope to the door. The knob jiggled, as if she was struggling with it. Then the door swung open and there she was, teal eyes wide and shimmering with unshed tears.

“Az?” she whimpered.

In one step he gathered her in his arms, ushering them into her apartment and pressing the door closed behind them.

“What are you doing here?” Gwyn’s voice was muffled against his chest. He could feel her shuddering, tears soaking into his sweatshirt.

“Gwyn, sweetheart,” he pushed her back gently so her could lift her chin and look into those ocean-deep eyes. “I made a promise to myself that first night that I would not leave you to suffer through this alone. Never again.”

The dam seemed to break, and she launched herself against him, arms curled around his neck and face tucked against his neck. He pulled up at her thighs, carrying her back to her room as her legs wrapped around his waist and her body continued to tremble as she released those pent up emotions.

“Gwyn,” he murmured as he reached her bed. “I need you to let go. For just a second.” She unwound herself from him, and he found himself entranced by her flushed face. Wetness shimmered over her freckles and eyes swirled with emotion. Azriel’s mouth tipped up. “Hi,” he whispered.

“Hi,” she hiccupped. He lifted his hand and brushed his fingers over her cheekbone before cupping her jaw. Dipping his chin, he captured those full pink lips with his. It was a feeling he could ever get over, never get tired of. He pulled away and crawled over the mattress, sitting himself up against her pillows and spreading his arms to her.

“Come here, sunshine.”

His girlfriend practically leapt into the bed and curled up against him, seemingly trying to press herself as far into him as she could. He wrapped her in his arms, letting his hand stroke down her back and over her shoulder.

“I know I’m no Little Mermaid, but I hope this helps,” he offered, lips pressed to her hair.

“I didn’t realize how much… how much this week had changed things. I feel safe with you. And trying to sleep without you…” Gwyn’s voice trailed off, so he gave her an encouraging squeeze.

“I wasn’t sleeping that well either, if I’m being honest.” He sighed, glad to have her in his embrace again. He hadn’t wanted to leave her earlier, anyway. “What do you think we should do about it?”

Gwyn was quiet against him, and he might have thought she had fallen asleep if it weren’t for her fingers tracing patterns against his toned stomach. Azriel swallowed. He could be the vulnerable one, for her.

“I think… I would very much like it if I had you in my arms every night. If… if you think that might be something you want,” he offered. “I’m not saying you have to move in, but you could if you wanted. I know this is all moving really fast, and I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. But I also want to make sure you feel safe, to make sure you can sleep-“

“Azriel.” Her voice was soft and sure and he felt her fingers along his jaw. He looked down just in time for the redhead to press her lips against his. When she pulled away she brought up her other hand, cupping his cheeks. “I… it is fast. But I trust you. You make me feel safe and treasured. I would like to spend every night in your arms, too.”

Azriel grinned down at her, the woman who was just his friend little more than a week ago. But she had been stealing his heart, piece by piece, for some time. It had just taken him awhile to admit it. He tenderly brushed his mouth over her forehead.

“Let’s get some sleep, sweetheart. We can figure out the rest in the morning. Okay?” He reached out to grab the sheet and pulled it up over them as they settled into the mattress, Gwyn tucked snugly against him. He could feel the exhaustion weighing on both of them, their first night apart in over a week a clear failure. But was it truly a failure if it brought them back together? Back to this?

“Thank you, Azriel. For knowing how much I needed you. For taking care of me.” The sleep was heavy in her silky voice as she relaxed against him. He let his lips brush over her head one more time.

“You’re not alone, Gwyn. Never again. I’m here now, and I plan on taking care of you as long as you let me.” And he let his eyes close, lulled by the rhythm of her steady breathing – the assurance that she felt safe and was resting. That he was the reason for that. That they would never spend another night apart.

Tag List: @tealnymph-writes @trashforazriel @secretlovelybeauty @meher-sumedha @imsointobooks @positivewitch @tanvee1231 @imwritingthesewords @camreadsum @vikingmagic33 @shisingh @gwynrielsupremacist @sagureads @katiebellf @deedz-thrillerkilller16 @sv0430 @live-the-fangirl-life

[oneisallallisone]

All I Know, All I Know Greedling x Reader fic Chapter 10

In a land ruled by alchemy, there are some who would call you a sorcerer. You intend to understand what this means. Along your journey you end up getting mixed up with two strange brothers, a military conspiracy, a potentially world-ending event, and the avarice of something more than human.

Previous

Chapter 1

Read on AO3 

_______________________________________________________________________

All I Know, All I Know

Chapter 10: True Power

Winry was becoming fed up with her friends getting into fights all the time. 

Granted, neither you nor Ling had started this one. It had simply found you. But still. It was stressful to see Ling and his attendant Lan Fan going toe to toe with something that looked like a human but had a tongue much too big for one. And then there was you, firing woven strands of magic at the creature who could apparently shapeshift. 

This all felt way out of her league. 

But Winry Rockbell was smart. She knew it too. She could whip up automail schematics in her sleep, and assemble them in half the time it took other mechanics. She could deliver a baby without any guidance. She knew the basics of human anatomy and physiology, and could apply them to practicing basic medicine and to connecting a client’s nerves to their automail. However, she wasn’t a combatant. 

And she couldn’t do anything to help her friends while the battle was raging. 

Sirens blared a few blocks away. 

Winry’s heart sank. No doubt it was the authorities coming to investigate the situation. The metal of Ling and Lan Fan’s weapons echoed with a sharp resonance through the streets, and, what’s more, your magic had reduced a large chunk of the cafe building to rubble. Winry was already well aware that Ling didn’t have a travel visa. And even if you did have one, you were still the cause of some pretty significant property damage during your fight against the shapeshifter. You would be arrested either way. 

The only solution was for all of you to get out of here before the military police arrived. And to do that, you’d need an escape vehicle. 

Good thing hot wiring a car was easier than repairing Ed’s automail. Winry got to work. 

Envy jumped out of the way just as a blast of your magic tore through the cafe’s front wall. Loose cement collapsed into piles on the ground, and spiderweb fractures raced up the sides of the building that were still standing. 

“Damn.” Envy whistled. “If I hadn’t gotten out of the way, you would have killed me that time for sure!” 

Your breath came in ragged pants. As the cafe crumbled, you were well aware that this was more power than you used normally. But you didn’t feel drained like you had at the Fifth Laboratory. All that training with Ed must have helped you build up your stamina. 

And you felt energized. 

With each deeper intake of air, the shards of your power begged to be released. Somewhere in your mind you knew you should stop. That even if this didn’t drain you, you might end up using it in a way you couldn’t take back. Rubble already lay at your feet.  

A moment from one of your sessions with Ed replayed in your mind. 

“Okay, so you can break through stone now.” Ed had said.“I think that’s enough for today.” 

Oh, Ed. What would he say if he saw the destruction you’d caused now? 

“Am I really supposed to believe you didn’t know you could do that?” Envy taunted. 

You glared at them. Knowing you can do something and knowing how you can do something are two vastly different pieces of information. But you weren’t about to get philosophical with this monster. “There isn’t a casual way to just learn you can destroy most of a building,” you said as you launched another beam of purple energy at the homunculus. 

Envy jumped and grabbed onto a windowsill. With seemingly just their fingertips, they pulled themself up and flipped through the air to grab onto the roof of the cafe. 

If they thought getting away from you would be so easy, they’d have to think again. With a swipe of your hands, you slammed your energy down against the ground and let the opposing force propel you upwards. 

Your arrival on the roof was more like a crash than a landing. But you were quickly on your feet when Envy spun a kick at you. You dodged that one, but they were quick to attack again. One of their fists struck you in the nose, and the other found your stomach. 

Your power sputtered a bit as the wind was knocked out of you. But with a desperate breath you regained some of your vitality, and created several disks to hurl at Envy. 

Nothing else existed besides you and the homunculus on the rooftop. Every muscle in your body was screaming, every instinct demanding that you not only fight and survive but that you fight and win. 

Everything else was so out of focus that you didn’t even notice the building being surrounded by military police. 

Winry clapped her hands with joy; the car engine sparked to life. Gripping the wheel tight, she slammed on the gas and sped over to Ling and Lan Fan. Right before the bulbous creature with the dripping tongue lunged at them again, Winry rammed into him with the car and sent him bouncing down the road. 

She rolled down the window. “Get in!” 

Ling and Lan Fan wasted no time. 

“Police are coming, we have to move,” Winry said. 

“Where’s (y/n)?” Ling said, closing his door behind him. 

“I was going to ask you that!” 

A quick scan of the surroundings revealed that you were nowhere immediately in sight. Not on the street, not on the sidewalks. Not amongst the overturned tables or chairs or chunks of cafe that had crashed to the ground. 

The sirens got louder. 

“Dammit!” Winry yelled, “Where are they?” 

“There’s no time. We have to go,” Lan Fan said. “(y/n) might not even be on this block anymore. If we stay here, we’re all going to get arrested.” 

Ling was taken aback. “So we’re just going to leave them behind? What if they are still here?” 

“If they are still here, then all four of us will be arrested if we stay. But if we leave, at least we’ll be free and we can make a plan to rescue them later.” 

“This doesn’t feel right.” Ling shook his head. 

Winry’s heart was pounding in her ears. Headlights were approaching in her rearview mirror now. “We don’t have time to argue anymore!” She shifted the car into gear. “I’m not letting Alphonse return to an empty hotel room.” 

The car sped off just moments before military police fanned around the cafe. 

“What is your report, Envy?” 

The shapeshifting homunculus stood before their Father’s twisted throne. With you securely in custody, Envy’s mission was complete. 

“The koldun is powerful, that’s for sure. They killed me a few times. Not that I let them know it.” 

“Are they or are they not going to be a useful asset to us?” 

“Hmm. I am inclined to say no.” 

“And why is that?” 

Envy shrugged. “I just don’t think they’d be much of a team player.” 

Father raised an eyebrow. 

“They’ve already aligned themself pretty strongly with the humans,” Envy elaborated. “It would be a waste of our time to try and sway them. Besides, they don’t even understand the full scope of their power! I can’t stand the thought of having a half-baked human magician with us. It would be embarrassing.” 

“Just because they’ve aligned themself with the humans doesn’t mean they can’t benefit us,” Lust spoke up. “There’s always a pressure point we can find and manipulate.” 

Gluttony grumbled. “But I wanted to eat them!” 

Lust patted his head.

The shadows stirred in the corner of the room. “For once, I have to agree with Envy,” Pride said. “If this sorcerer doesn’t comprehend their true power yet, they’re not going to be useful to us in the long run. Uncertainty surrounds them. And that kind of uncertainty reeks of insecurity and lost potential; two things that we don’t want to have in an ally.” 

“They don’t need to be an ally,” Lust pressed. “They just have to be a pawn.” She turned to Father. “Doesn’t the new Greed need a vessel?” 

Pride bristled. “That’s not a good idea.” 

“Oh? Care to explain why not?” 

“The last Greed knew exactly who he was, and he turned on us as soon as he had the chance. Meanwhile, the koldun seems to have no idea who they are. Do you really think that their emptiness combined with Greed’s avarice is going to keep them loyal to us?” 

Lust fixed her sharp stare on Pride. But she knew she was defeated. 

Pride continued, no little smugness in his voice. “I think it would be easiest to have them removed from the board entirely.”

“Does that mean I get to eat?” Gluttony perked up. 

Father’s mouth was a tight line. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. Either of you. Just because the sorcerer isn’t useful to us now, it doesn’t mean they can’t be useful to us later. I don’t want them interfering with our plans, but I don’t think it’s time to kill them just yet.” 

Gluttony’s shoulders slumped. 

“So what, then, do you suggest we do?” Pride asked. 

“I think it’s time we look into some other sources.” 

The dim light streaming in from the hallway was eclipsed by a tall figure. “Sorry I’m late. I was just making sure our guest is well looked after.” 

“Wrath, welcome back,” Father said. “I trust the koldun is secure?” 

The Fuhrer nodded. “They are in a holding cell in Central Command. It will be about an hour before the sedative wears off.” 

“Excellent.” 

Envy crossed their arms and looked to Father. “So what’s this you were saying earlier about ‘other sources?’”  

Wrath, Lust, Gluttony, and Pride looked at him expectantly. 

Father leaned forward and rested his chin on the back of his hands. “I don’t want the koldun to get in our way. But I don’t want them dead yet. Envy, are you entirely certain that their abilities are not any known form of alchemy or alkahestry? Are they truly using sorcery?”  

“I was doubtful at first.” Envy shrugged. “But after fighting them again, I can say that they’re definitely not an alchemist. Or an alkahestrist, for that matter. Their power is something else.” 

“Then that settles it,” Father said. “Wrath, you will banish the young koldun from Amestris. Find out exactly what region of Drachma they are from, and send them back there. The more details you can get of their dwelling, as well as any people they may live with, the better. Make them think they have no choice but to give up that information. Pride, I then want you to trail the koldun back to their homeland. Use Wrath’s information to try and find their place of residence and get there first.”  

“What is the point of that?” Lust said, still indignant. 

Father smiled. “Home can often hide more secrets than one is aware of. I suspect we could find more information on our sorcerer’s mysterious history there. And information, my dear child, is true power.”