#i never draw kisses but for these guys ill make exceptions. ^_^ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

buckymcbuttfacebarnes · 3 years

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(2.3k of college tasm!peter x reader...besties to luverrrsssss??)

“That’s my pen,” you murmur, reaching across the table to nudge Peter’s hand.

“Oh, yeah, right…” he grins widely, looking up from his textbook. He keeps the pen between his teeth, “Let me keep it, since it’s got my spidey DNA all over it.”

“It’s my favorite pen,” you whisper back.

“Take it then.” He licks the pen cap before trying to shove it into your hand, which you quickly draw back out of his reach.

“You're gross."

Peter laughs at the wrinkle of your nose. He tilts his head to the side, “Germaphobe? Since when?”

You lean forward, resting your folded arms on the table. “Since right now.”

He purses his lips in disbelief, brown eyes narrowing. “Is it because I said something about my spidey spit…? Oh my god, are you scared of spiders, Y/N? You can say it, I won’t be offended. Promise.”

“Can I ask you something? If I were to say, like ingest some of your DNA or something, would I…would I catch–”

“Catch?” Peter cuts you off, “Jesus, you make it sound like an illness.”

You try to hide your smile, but it tugs on the corners of your mouth anyways. “Well? Would I?”

Peter grins back at you, mimicking the way you’re leaning on the table. He motions for you to lean closer with his finger, and you do, craning your neck out so that he can whisper his answer into your ear. Through cupped hands he whispers, “Why don’t you kiss me and find out?”

“Shut up,” you say, holding up your middle finger.

“Damn, no kiss?” he sits back in his chair, swiping a hand across his face dramatically. “Is it because I chewed on your pen? Is that what it was? Fuck…”

You try not to laugh as Peter sends his gaze up and around the library in a look of mock disbelief. He sighs through his nose, his adam’s apple bobs with a hard swallow. He shakes his head gently, “I’m sorry, I never should have done that…it…it was a line I crossed.” He is losing the fight against the smile that threatens to warm his face and crinkle his eyes, his dramatic facade quickly crumbling.

“I can tell that you feel really bad about this.”

“I’m serious, Y/N,” he beams at you now, fighting the little chuckles that bubble up and out of his chest. “I’m so sorry I chewed on your pen, and I’m also so sorry that you’re afraid of spiders and didn’t feel like you could tell me.”

“I didn’t want to offend you,” you say with mock sympathy, “you know…spiders are your kin and all and…well, I’d hate to talk bad about your family in front of you, Pete.” You’re grinning now as you whisper to him from across the table, though there really isn’t any point. It seems to only be the two of you in the library, with the exception of the three other students you’d spotted walking around and the librarian. “You know I love you and I wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings. People are sensitive about their families and I know how you can get.”

Surprised, he laughs, “Oh? And how do I get?”

“You don’t know?”

“No, please…please enlighten me, Y/N.”

“Well…” you sigh, “You’re a sensitive guy.”

“Am I?”

“You always have been, I can see it, you’re a softie.” “Is that what you think?”

“It’s what I know.”

“Oh, of course. Duh,” he nods understandingly, “Continue.”

“And because of that…your softie nature, I mean, I don’t think you would be able to handle the harsh truth about your bug kin.”

He lifts one heavy brow, “That truth being…”

“That truth being that they’re scary and gross.”

“You think I’m gross?”

“I do think you’re gross.”

Peter narrows his eyes, his mouth curled into a fond smile, “Are you afraid of me, Y/N?”

You don’t mean to, but you soften, tilting your head when you look at him, “I could never be scared of you Peter.”

Peter’s mouth opens, and snaps shut at the sound of your name.

“Hi, Will,” you smile, turning your body away from Peter to better address this guy, this intruder.

Will grins back at you, widely. He seems too happy to be there. Peter fights the urge to grimace.

“What are you guys up to?”

“Oh, Peter’s helping me study,” you send a smile Peter’s way, “he’s a genius when it comes to all this math stuff. I don’t know shit.”

“Don’t say that,” Peter says disapprovingly, but it doesn’t matter. Will speaks over him as if he hadn’t said anything at all.

“That’s cool, I was gonna try to start the essay for Langdon’s class. Have you started yet?”

Peter ignores the surge of jealousy he feels prickling in his chest and at the tips of his ears, and instead momentarily sends his gaze down towards his textbook. He doesn’t know what to do as this conversation goes on, he can’t get up and leave because that would be weird and he can’t chime in without that being weird too. He just wants it to end. He wants Will to leave the table and leave you alone and sit far away. It’s selfish and childish, he knows, and yet…he can’t help but find himself wondering how mad you would be on a scale of 1-10 if he stood up and told Will that no one likes him and he should leave. He thinks at least a solid 6, which is too high, so he decided against it.

You’re saying something about your essay topic when Peter tunes back in, “I don’t know though…I’ll probably end up waiting until the last minute and just pick the easiest one.”

“Well, if you need help, like with the writing process or coming up with a good topic…you have my number,” Will says with an inauthentically sheepish shrug of one shoulder that almost makes Peter gag. Still, he has to hold back from rejoicing as this conversation comes to its close.

“Cool, yeah,” you nod, smiling. “If you need someone to proofread your paper or something, I could do that.”

This makes Will smile, but Peter knows you had only really said it to be nice. You’re better than him in that way.

“Yeah, that would be great actually. It would be nice to have a second pair of eyes on it,” and when Will says this he chuckles, though he didn’t say anything even remotely funny. He glances over at Peter, who gives him a half-assed smile that makes him realize he's been standing there for a couple seconds too long. “Well, I’ll leave you guys to it. Good luck. Bye, Y/N…Peter.”

“Yeah. Bye, Will,” Peter waves him off. “Jesus,” he mutters once Will is far enough away.

“What?” You ask, though you already know exactly what.

Peter’s nose wrinkles, “That guy can really just talk, huh? People just don’t know when a conversation is over. Like, just stop talking already. If he wanted you to read his paper he could’ve just started there, the conversation would’ve ended a lot quicker…I think he likes you.”

“I think he does too,” you agree, failing to fight back a smile. Peter doesn’t know that the smile is for him, not for Will.

He pauses before asking, “Do you like him?”

“Maybe,” you shrug. “He does talk a lot.”

“You don’t like that?”

“I don’t know,” you laugh. “It’s charming sometimes. In certain people.”

“In Will?”

“I don’t know, Peter. I can’t tell…What do you think of him? Other than that he talks too much.”

He leans back and shrugs, palms facing the ceiling, “Oh God, where do I even begin?” The sound of your laugh makes him smile. Peter is always himself when you’re around, but sometimes he does a little extra. He is Peter, but at 120% because he knows that sometimes the extra dramatics make you smile, they make you laugh, he does the extra because he knows he makes you happy.

“Go on,” you say.

“No, no,” he chuckles. “I won’t let my opinion of him color your opinion of him. Isn’t that big of me?”

“Very mature of you, I think.”

Peter nods before clapping his hands together, “Okay. Let’s get back to studying, young lady. No more distractions.”

“You got it, boss.”

“He was dressed badly and I didn’t like his hair,” Peter spits out quickly, so fast that it’s almost one word. “Okay, okay, that’s all I’ll say.”

“For right now?”

“For right now,” he smiles, laughing at the fact that you already knew. You already knew there was more…there was always more.

Finally, when he is quiet (he had said with a sheepish little smile, “I’m serious, study time, for real.”) and you send your gaze down to your notes and textbook, Peter gets a spare moment to look at you the way he wants to. Did you know that when you come across something you don’t understand your eyebrows furrow in the same way, and that your lips part as if you're about to speak? Every time. Then they close again and he can see your eyes rereading the same line over and over and over. Sometimes you even mouth the words, very subtly, but he can see it. But even that doesn’t help sometimes. He knows that you hate asking for help, so instead of making you ask, he’ll ask you instead.

“Are you stuck?” and when you say yes, he’ll lean across the table and ask you “Which problem?” and then, he’ll walk you through each step, watching your face carefully because sometimes even when you say, “Oh, okay, I get it now,” he can tell that you’re lying. He wonders if you know how much he loves that he gets to help you, that you let him, and that he can teach you new things. Do you know all of that? Do you also know how he adores you?

Quietly, across the table you wonder about similar things. Does he know how much you love listening to him ramble on and on about math, about life, about the things he doesn’t like about a boy who might like you and you might (but don’t) like back? Does he know you love how smart he is, how kind he is? Does he know that he is the only person you want help from? Does he know that you wish you could spend all of your time with him? Does he know how happy he makes you?

By the end of your study session he is seated directly beside you, though instead of helping you with your math homework, he is doodling a picture of a little spider in your notebook, beside which he signs his name with a little heart. Your head rests gently on his shoulder, watching him scribble in the spider, accompanied by a few webs.

“Who needs science and math when you’ve got art, Peter?”

“You know, no one has ever really complimented my art talents…but now that you say that I think I might have to change my major.”

You lean forward to look at the drawing a little closer, a warmth blooming in your chest when you see the little message scrawled beneath it: don’t be scared of me. xoxo, petey.

“I thought you didn’t like it when I called you that,” you say as your hand curls around the curve of his bicep.

He swallows hard, “I guess it, uh…it grew on me.”

“You wanna go get some pizza?” You tilt your head up, your face is close to his. “Unless you're doing Spiderman stuff tonight, I’d hate to keep you from swinging on buildings…or whatever it is you do.”

“Whatever it is I do?” he scoffs. “I save the city from bad guys, like, every night. What do you do? Probably sleep, and do homework, I don’t know.” He turns his head, just slightly, so he can meet your warm gaze. You smile, and so does he. You swear you see his cheeks grow just a little pinker than usual, but maybe it’s just the light. Maybe it’s just your imagination. He swallows hard before asking, “You wanna go for a swing tonight?”

“A swing?”

“Yeah, I’ll swing you around…show you a little bit of ‘whatever it is’ I do,” his voice is soft in your ears.

You purse your lips, then laugh, “What if you drop me?”

“I would never,” he promises. The look in his eyes tells you he means it.

On your way out he offers to carry your bag, he always does. And you decline, you always do. The night air is warm. Peter offers you one of his headphones, which you gladly take. As the two of you walk you snake your arm through his and wish that you could melt into him because the seamless meshing of your bodies would affirm what you already know: he is a part of you, and you're a part of him. You settle for pushing your cheek against his arm affectionately, just for a moment. He doesn’t look at you when you glance up at him, but you can tell that he’s grinning. His eyes are crinkled at the corners.

“You know,” you sigh after a few minutes of quiet, “earlier I think I told you I loved you.”

“Did you?”

“I did.”

“Oh yeah…yeah,” he squints and nods his head, “I think I remember that. Was that before or after Will basically begged you to call him?”

You slap the back of your hand against his chest and you both laugh.

“It was before.”

“I know,” he replies, still refusing to meet your gaze. Instead he looks down at his Nikes. He kicks his feet out as he walks, an attempt to expel some of the extra energy that accompanies the overwhelming feeling of being in love with someone and knowing that they love you back.

“I meant it,” you tell him.

“I know that too.” Peter’s smiling uncontrollably, grinning so hard that it hurts his cheeks. He knows you’re smiling too, he can hear it in your voice. His head turns, and his eyes are bright and twinkly. “I love you too, if that’s what you’re trying to get me to say.”

“Say it back to me faster next time.”

He laughs, it’s so light and giddy that you might even call it a giggle. “I will.”

#tasm peter parker #tasm peter x reader #andrew garfield!peter parker x reader #andrew garfield!spiderman x reader #peter parker x reader

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alj4890 · 3 years

Note

I have an ask? What if Liam got Riley pregnant when they first met in New York? Would he still have to go through the social season? Would she have to raise a baby on her own would Liam find a way to help?

Ooooohhhh. Interesting. That would be quite the conundrum for them, wouldn't it? Especially since the social season starts the very next day after he visited her bar. Hmmm. Let's see what I can do with that time frame. I'm going on the assumption that the social season lasts at least three months with all the parties and traveling they do. Which will help out with the pregnancy part 😉 I think she would still go and take part in the social season since she wouldn’t know she was pregnant yet, but it would definitely alter how things end in book 1.

Masterlist

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Aftereffects

Three months earlier...

"Well?" Riley tilted her head to study Liam's profile. "What do you think?"

He cleared his throat. Lips parted, yet no words were formed. Liam had so many emotions hitting him all at once that a mere stranger had made his one wish come true.

His eyes went from the Statue of Liberty to the woman responsible for him being able to see it.

"I'm speechless." He lowered his head, lips curving in a shy smile. "I've never been so moved in my life than I am in this moment with you."

She smiled and turned her attention toward the iconic monument. "She's really something, isn't she?"

He turned toward Riley. His eyes traveled down her beautiful face softly lit by the dull light coming from the ferry they were on and the sliver of moonlight from above.

"Yes," he moved closer to her. "She really is."

Riley looked up at him. Her heart raced at the tender longing she saw in his eyes. He seemed so lonely. So in need of encouragement. So in need of affection.

Before he could step away, she snagged his lips in a tender kiss.

He froze for two seconds before crushing her to him. He allowed all the feelings he kept to himself pour out as a fuel to draw moans from her. The desperation he had been feeling since his brother abdicated didn't seem to exist around this woman.

His kisses traveled down her neck.

"Liam." She sighed when he returned to her mouth.

Her arms wrapped around his neck as he pressed her back against the railing.

"I don't want this night to end." He murmured.

It took a physical effort to stop.

"Neither do I." She cupped his cheek. "I know you leave tomorrow."

He nodded, already feeling the heavy yoke that was about to be thrust upon his shoulders.

"It's not quite tomorrow though." She kissed along his jaw as she whispered. "We can still enjoy the rest of tonight."

"Riley, I--you know I must choose--I couldn't do that and simply leave you to search for a bride." He felt guilty just thinking about it.

He would be the worst sort of cad possible if he were to spend the night in her arms.

He shouldn't have pursued her. The moment she had turned around and greeted him in the bar, he had thought of nothing else except getting to know more about her.

"I want you." She whispered. "If tonight is all we have, then let's make the most of it."

"You have no idea how much I want you." He kissed her once more, completely unable to resist her.

******************

Two and a half months later...

Maxwell winced when he heard the noises coming from Riley's bathroom. Bracing himself, he timidly knocked upon the door.

"You okay in there, blossom?"

"What--" she heaved into the toilet, "do you think?"

"Maxwell!" Bertrand snapped. "What is the hold up. She should have been downstairs fifteen minutes ago."

His eyes widened at the sounds of vomiting.

"Is she ill?" He whispered.

Maxwell shrugged.

"She seemed fine last night." Bertrand thought over the past few days.

"She has been more tired than usual." Maxwell narrowed his eyes in concern. "And this isn't the first time I've heard her throwing up."

Bertrand's stern demeanor turned to worry. "You don't think she's..."

"Think she's what?" Maxwell asked.

"We have been pressuring her to wear the right clothes. I hope we haven't caused her to think she needs to lose weight." Bertrand explained.

Maxwell's eyes widened. He would never be able to forgive himself if he had made Riley think less of her natural beauty.

"Riley!" He anxiously knocked again when they heard nothing but silence. "Can we come in?"

"Sure." Her weak response was followed by her unlocking the door.

The brothers walked inside and saw her sitting in the floor.

Maxwell wet a rag and crouched beside her. He gently cleaned the sweat off her brow, his worry was now off the charts at the half hearted smile she gave him.

"Thanks." She lifted her eyes to Bertrand. "I'm sorry. I know I'm supposed to be outside for the--"

"Don't concern yourself with that." He tempered his usual gruff tone. "We must take care of you first."

Tears filled her eyes at how kind he was being. He wasn't berating her or telling her that House Beaumont needed her to win Liam. She wondered where this Bertrand had been hiding. Tears began to trickle down her cheeks as the brothers discussed ways to help her feel better.

He ordered Maxwell to pick her up and carry her to her bed.

As she settled back against her pillows, he called down to the kitchen and ordered a tray of soup, crackers, and tea to be brought up.

By the time he was finished, she was crying in full force.

"Riley!" Maxwell sat down on her bed and tried to hug her. "Please tell us what's wrong."

Bertrand reached for her hand. "You do know how lovely you are, right?"

Her eyes widened at that odd question.

"We think you shouldn't change at all." Maxwell added.

"Indeed. Many of the dresses in the boutique are," Bertrand's frown firmed as he tried to think of a way to keep her from thinking her body was at fault, "they aren't properly made. One can never go by sizes there."

"And you're size is perfect. Liam can't keep his eyes off you." Maxwell added. "In fact, you could probably add on some weight and be even more beautiful."

"Indeed." Bertrand latched on to that. "Size does not matter. It is what is on the inside that counts."

Riley lifted her head. "What are you talking about?"

"You're," Maxwell mimed vomiting.

"You must stop." Bertrand added. "You do not need to lose weight."

"I'm not doing it on purpose." She shook her head.

It touched her heart though that they wouldn't want her developing an eating disorder.

"I don't know what's caused this." She explained. "The weirdest smells and motions seem to set it off. Like yesterday, the smell of tomatoes had me running for a bathroom and I've always loved tomatoes."

"Could it possibly be your nerves?" Bertrand sat down at the foot of the bed. "The social season can take a toll on even the most seasoned noble."

"I don't think so." Riley mumbled. "It's like my energy has suddenly been depleted. Of course that could be because of the vomiting."

"So what caused it to start?" Maxwell asked.

"How long has it been going on?" Bertrand added.

"I don't know what set it off. It's been going on for a couple of weeks, but it is getting worse."

"Hmm." Bertrand and Maxwell shared a glance.

"Riley, I hope you don't think badly of me for asking," Bertrand struggled to inquire into something so personal. "But, have you, er...did you..."

She lifted her eyebrows in silent question.

"Before you joined us, were you involved with anyone?" He closed his eyes in embarrassment.

"Involved?"

"Any previous boyfriends or hookups before Liam?" Maxwell clarified.

"Oh!" Her cheeks heated with color. "No. I actually haven't been in a relationship for almost a year now." She lowered her eyes. "I had a bad relationship with a guy and decided to focus on myself once I got out of it."

Bertrand relaxed some. "A wise decision."

"So no one night stands?" Maxwell prodded.

"I've never been that type of..." Her eyes widened. She had been that type for one incredible night.

It was the driving force in making her decision to come to Cordonia in the first place.

"Oh no." She breathed. "The night I met you," her eyes held Maxwell's shocked gaze, "Liam and I sneaked away and..."

Bertrand shot up off the bed. "Wait here."

*****************

"We must be certain." Bertrand stressed. "The bloodwork must confirm what the test showed." His frown was fierce as he stood before the physician. "Discretion is a must in this situation."

"I'll have the results by this evening." The doctor replied. "And only I will run the lab work for Ms. Brooks."

"Here's my number." Riley scribbled it out quickly. "If I don't answer, please send a text and voicemail."

Once he was gone, she sagged back on the bed.

"What do we do now?" Maxwell asked.

"We have a ball to prepare for." Bertrand held up a silk dress. "We missed today's events, but we must make an appearance tonight. Everyone will begin to talk if we don't."

Riley nodded. Her mind though was whirling with the knowledge that she was pregnant.

How will Liam react? Will he be upset? Will he hate me for allowing it to happen? Will he think I'm trying to trap him?

How do I tell him?

Taking the dress, she forced herself to get ready.

***************

"Have you seen Riley any today?"

Drake shook his head. "No. Why?"

"That's strange." Liam folded his arms.

He wondered if something was wrong. He hated that he couldn't spend every single moment with her. What if she had reached the end of her patience with this suitor situation?

He shook his head when Drake offered him a drink.

"You've got it bad." Drake teased.

"Got what?"

"Love."

"I do?"

"Are you saying you aren't in love with Brooks?" Drake smirked. "I've seen you with her. Ever since she showed up at the masquerade ball, you haven't looked at any of the other ladies trying to win you."

Liam couldn't help but smile over that. It was true. His night with Riley in New York had been the most magical of his life. Each moment he had spent with her since then all but reaffirmed that she was the only one for him.

He was thrilled at how the people of Cordonia had fallen for her. The press had only positive things to say about The American that had come to win his hand.

He could picture her smile when she approached him at the masquerade ball.

"I think we both know we have something special. One night together will never be enough for me." Riley whispered as he kissed her hand.

"I agree." He held her hand a moment longer than was deemed appropriate. "It isn't enough." His bright blue eyes shined against the silver demi mask. "Are you certain I'm worth going through these next few months? What if--"

"We end up with our happily ever after?" She finished for him.

He knew he had completely lost his heart in that moment. Our happily ever after. Her optimism that they could have that helped him through every step of this social season. She was the prize he knew he could claim once he passed the final hurdle to be king.

He spent his time in dull conversations daydreaming about their future. How beautiful she would be as a bride. How comforting she would be as they dealt with his father's illness and troubles of their small nation.

Then he dreamed of the family they would have. He hoped they had many children, each with her infectious smile and kindness.

He hoped she would say yes when he asked her to marry him. Even if they never had all these other dreams of the future, he would at least have her and her love.

Then all of this would be well worth it.

He did worry about his father's reaction to the time he spent in her company. Whenever Liam attempted to discuss his feelings about Riley, Constantine would point out another lady of the court. He wouldn't allow his son to go ahead and make a decision.

"You better head downstairs." Drake finished off his drink. "Can't have a ball around here without the prince."

****************

"Any word yet?" Bertrand whispered.

Riley shook her head.

He softly cursed, causing her to burst into laughter.

"I'm sorry." She giggled when he shushed her. "But I would have bet a lot of money that you would never say that word."

He rolled his eyes. "Be that as it may, you should go mingle."

****************

"Lady Riley?" Liam gently tapped her shoulder. "May I have this dance?"

She turned around with a start. "I'd love to."

He took her hand and placed it within the bend of his arm. "You look beautiful tonight."

She gently squeezed his arm. "Thank you." Her eyes lifted to his. "And you're as handsome as always."

"I don't know about that." He winked at her. "But as long as you think so, then I'm content."

He took her in his arms as a waltz began.

"Let's not spin as much as we normally do." She pleaded when he twirled her.

His brow furrowed. "Is something wrong?"

"No!" She said quickly. "Just, um, a little motion sickness from time to time."

"I see." He kept his gaze upon her face. "I missed you today."

"You did?"

"I always do whenever you're not around." He admitted with a sheepish grin.

"That's so--" she felt the vibration of her phone.

She stopped dancing, causing Liam to nearly trip

"Riley, is something--"

"Excuse me, I have to--that is--this is from--" she ducked out a nearby door before all her revelations came tumbling out.

***************

She plopped down on the edge of a small couch and read the message from the doctor.

Hitting the link, she read the results of her bloodwork.

Her breaths came in and out in short gasps.

I'm really pregnant.

"Riley?"

All the color drained from her face as she looked up at Liam.

He shut the door to the ballroom and knelt before her.

"What is it?" He took her icy hand in his. "Is something wrong?"

She licked her dry lips and tried to tell him.

"Yes. No. I'm not sure."

He pressed a kiss to her hand. "Whatever it is, I will do all that I can to help you."

She blinked back tears. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything." He laced his fingers with hers.

"Do you," she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, "do you love me?"

"I do." He admitted. "I had planned on telling you during the Coronation Ball."

"Really?" Her eyes narrowed. "I need you to be completely honest with me right now."

"I am." He lowered his gaze to their clasped hands. His thumb brushed against her skin. "I know I'm not supposed to say anything until then, but you are the one I will pick to marry," he looked up at her, "if you want to."

She bit down on her bottom lip. "Do you want children?"

"Yes, and not just for the continuation of the Rhys holding the crown." His smile gentled. "I want a family with you, selfishly for myself. I want all the holiday memories spent with them, watching them see the world with wonder, and seeing our traits passed on, especially yours." He chuckled. "Heaven help me if we have a daughter like you. I will be completely wrapped around her little finger."

Riley couldn't believe she was hearing all she needed to from him.

He really is Prince Charming. My Prince Charming.

"Do you remember the night we met?" She asked.

"How could I forget?"

She grimaced at the worry that still gnawed at her mind.

"My love," Liam sat down beside her. "Please tell me what troubles you."

"I had not been with anyone in a long time." She began. "I mean, no one for months when we spent the night together."

Liam merely listened, wondering where she was going with this.

"I didn't think in the heat of the moment. I should have. It was irresponsible, but I was so swept off my feet..." She took a deep breath. "And I found out today that I'm pregnant."

His fingers tightened around hers.

"I'm sorry. I know with the--"

"Pregnant?" Liam interrupted her. "You're certain?"

"The doctor just sent me the results of my blood work. That with the test I took and the physical exam confirms it." Her eyes widened when he suddenly stood up and took her into his arms.

The kiss he gave her weakened her knees. His arms held her as if she was the most delicate piece of porcelain.

"Marry me." He said between kisses.

"That kinda was the whole point of me coming here." She teased, once she saw how happy he was.

He smiled against her lips. "Is that a yes?"

"It is."

He stepped back and took hold of her hand. With quick strides he had them back in the ballroom.

Waving the conductor to stop the music, he held his hand up. "May I have your attention please!"

The court stilled as all eyes turned toward him.

Ignoring the hushed questions coming from his father, he settled his arm around Riley's waist.

"Lady Riley has made me the happiest man this evening. She has accepted my proposal of marriage and has told me that within a few months or so," he turned his adoring gaze upon her, "we will have an heir to the throne."

Constantine staggered back at this announcement. He had no idea the couple had become that close.

Regina called for champagne to be brought to all the guests as she embraced the young couple.

Liam held his glass up. He decided to force his parent to officially accept Riley in front of the entire court. He suspected that if he had not announced the fact they were expecting, that Constantine would find a way to break their engagement. He didn't know why he felt such unease with his father when it concerned Riley, but he wasn't going to leave anything to chance when it concerned her.

"Father? Would you like to give the toast?"

Constantine cleared his throat. Seeing no way around it, he stepped forward and lifted his glass. He hoped for Liam's sake that this woman would not be detrimental to his rule.

"To my son and the lady he has chosen. May they have all the happiness that I have found with my own queen and may their new family continue to serve Cordonia with grace and honor." He turned toward them. "To Liam and Riley!"

#choices the royal romance #liam x riley #choices the stories you play #choices fan fiction #trr liam

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wolfstar-in-color · 3 years

Text

July Colorful Column: Remus is a Crip, and We Can Write Him Better.

There is one thing that can get me to close a fic so voraciously I don’t even make sure I’m not closing other essential tabs in the process. It doesn’t matter how much I’m loving the fic, how well written I think it is, or how desperately I want to know how it ends. Once I read this sentence, I am done.

It’s written in a variety of different ways, but it always goes something like this: “You don’t want me,” Remus said, “I am too sick/broken/poor/old/[insert chosen self-demeaning adjective here].”

You’re familiar with the trope. The trope is canonical. And if you’ve been around the wolfstar fandom for longer than a few minutes, you’ve read the trope. Maybe you love the trope! Maybe you’ve written the trope! Maybe you’re about to stop reading this column, because the trope rings true to you and you feel a little attacked!

Now, let’s get one thing out of the way right now: I am not saying the trope is wrong. I am not saying it’s bad. I am not saying we should stop writing it. We all have things we don’t like to see in our chosen fics. Maybe you can’t stand Leather Jacket Motorbike Sirius? Maybe you think Elbow Patch Remus is overdone? Or maybe your pet peeves are based in something a little deeper - maybe you think Poor Latino Remus is an irresponsible depiction, or that PWPs are too reductive? Whatever it is, we all have our things.

Let me tell you about my thing. When I first became very ill several years ago, there were various low points in which I felt I had become inherently unlovable. This is, more or less, a normal reaction. When your body stops doing things it used to be able to do - or starts doing things you were quite alright without, thank you very much - it changes the way you relate to your body. You don’t want to hear my whole disability history, so yada yada yada, most people eventually come to accept their limitations. It’s a very painful existence, one in which you constantly tell yourself your disability has transformed you into a burdensome, unworthy member of society, and if nothing else, it’s not terribly sustainable. Being disabled takes grit! It takes power! It takes a truly absurd amount of medical self-advocacy! Hating yourself? Thinking yourself unworthy of love? No one has time for that.

Of course, I’m being hyperbolic. Plenty of disabled people struggle with these feelings many years into their disabilities, and never really get over them. But here’s the thing. We experience those stories ALL THE TIME. Remember Rain Man? Or Million Dollar Baby? Or that one with the actress from Game of Thrones and that British actor who seemed like he was going to have a promising career but then didn't? Those are all stories about sad, bitter disabled people and their sad, bitter lives, two out of three of which end in the character completing suicide because they simply couldn’t imagine having to live as a disabled person. (I mean, come on media, I get that we're less likely to enjoy a leisurely Saturday hike, but our parking is SUBLIME.) When was the last time you engaged with media that depicted a happy disabled person? A complex disabled person? A disabled person who has sex? No really, these aren’t hypothetical questions, can you please drop a rec in the notes?? Because I am desperate.

There are lots of problems with this trope, and they’ve been discussed ad nauseam by people with PhDs. I’m not actually interested in talking about how this trope leads to a more prevalent societal idea that disabled people are unworthy of love, or contributes to the kind of political thought processes that keep disabled people purposefully disenfranchised. I’m just a bitch on Tumblr, and I have a bone to pick: the thing I really hate about the trope? It’s boring. I’m bored. You know how, like, halfway through Grey’s Anatomy you realized they were just recycling the same plot points over and over again and there was just no WAY anyone working at a hospital prone to THAT MANY disasters would stay on staff? It's like that. I love a recycled trope as much as the next person (There Was Only One Bed, anyone?). But I need. Something. Else.

Remus is disabled. BOLD claim. WILD speculation. Except, not really. You simply - no matter how you flip it, slice it, puree it, or deconstruct it - cannot tell me Remus Lupin is not disabled. Most of us, by this point, are probably familiar with the way that One Canonical Author intended One Dashing Werewolf to be “a metaphor for those illnesses that carry stigma, like HIV and AIDS” [I’m sorry to link you to an outside source quoting She Who Must Not Be Named, but we’re professionals here]. Which is... a thing. It’s been discussed. And, listen, there’s no denying that this parallel is a problematic interpretation of people who have HIV/AIDS and all such similar “those illnesses” (though I’ll admit that I, too, am perennially apt to turn into a raging beast liable to harm anything that crosses my path, but that’s more linked to the at-least-once-monthly recollection that One Day At A Time got cancelled). Critiques aside, Remus Lupin is a character who - due to a condition that affects him physically, mentally, emotionally, and intellectually - is repeatedly marginalized, oppressed, denied political and social power, and ostracized due to unfounded fear that he is infectious to others. Does that sound familiar?

We’re not going to argue about whether or not “Remus is canonically disabled as fuck” is a fair reading. And the reason we’re not going to argue about whether or not it’s a fair reading is because I haven’t read canon in 10-plus years and you will win the argument. Canon is only marginally relevant here. The icon of this blog is brown, curly haired Remus Lupin kissing his trans boyfriend, Sirius Black. We are obviously not too terribly invested in canon. The wolfstar fandom is now a community with over 25,000 AO3 fics, entire careers launched from drawing or writing or cosplaying this non-canonical pairing. We love to play around here with storylines and universes and races and genders and sexualities and all kinds of things, but most of the time? Remus is still disabled. He’s disabled as a werewolf in canon-compliant works, he’s disabled in the AUs where he was injured or abused or kidnapped or harmed as a child, he’s disabled in the stories that read him as chronically ill or bipolar or traumatized or blind or Deaf. I’d go so far as to say that he is one of very few characters in the Wide Wonderful World of media who is, in as close to his essence as one can be, always disabled. And that means? Don’t shoot the messenger... but we could stand to be a tiny bit more responsible with how we portray him.

Disabled people are complicated. As much as I’d like to pretend we are always level-headed, confident, and ready to assert our inherent worth, we are still just humans. We have bad days. We doubt our worth. We sometimes go out with guys who complain about our steroid-induced weight gain (it was a long time ago, Tumblr, okay??). But, we also have joy and fun and good days and sex and happiness and families and so many other things.

Remus is a disabled character, and as such, it’s only fair that he’d have those unworthy moments. But - I propose - Remus is also a crip. What is a crip? A crip - like a queer - is someone who eschews the limited boundaries placed on their bodies, who rejects a hierarchy of oppression in favor of an intersectional analysis of lived experience, who isn’t interested in being the tragic figure responsible for helping people with dominant identities realize how good they have it. Crips interpret their disabilities however they want, rethinking bodies and medicine and pleasure and pain and even time itself. Crips are political, community-minded, and in search of liberation.

Remus is a character who struggles with his disability, sure. But he’s also a character who leverages his physical condition to attempt to shift communities towards his political leanings, advocates for the rights of those who share his physical condition, and has super hot sex with his wrongfully convicted boyfriend ultimately goes on to build community and family. Having a condition that quite literally cripples you, over which you have no control, and through which you are often read as a social pariah? That’s disability. But using said condition as a means through which to build advocacy and community? Now that’s some crip shit.

Personally, I love disabled!Remus Lupin. But I love crip!Remus Lupin even more. I’d love to see more of a Remus who owns his disability, who covets what makes him unique, and who never ever again tells a potential romantic partner they are too good for him because of his disability. This trope - unlike There Was Only One Bed! - sometimes actually hurts to read. Where’s Remus who thinks a potential romantic partner isn’t good enough for him? Where’s Remus who insists his partners learn more about his condition in order to treat him properly? Where’s sexy wheelchair user Remus? Where’s Remus who uses his werewolf transformations as an excuse to travel the world? Where’s crip Remus??

We don’t have to put “you don’t want me” Remus entirely to bed. It is but one of many repeated tropes that are - in the words of The Hot Priest from Fleabag - morally a bit dubious. And let’s face it - we don’t always come to fandom for its moral superiority (as much as we sometimes like to think we do).

This is not a condemnation - it is an invitation. Able-bodied folks are all but an injury, illness, or couple decades away from being disabled. And when you get here, I sincerely hope you don’t waste your time on “you don’t want me”ing back and forth with the people you love. I’m inviting you to come to the crip side now. We have snacks, and without all the “you don’t want me” talk, we get to the juicy parts much faster.

Colorfully,

Mod Theo

#wolfstar #disability in fandom #disabled remus #crip remus #please write me some crip remus #I beg of you #fandom meta

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jrueships · 2 years

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maxey, haliburton

WHERE ARE THEIR BOYFRIENDS !?!? 😼

V ER Y astute question! which requires VERY astute answers!! luckily... you've come to the right place 😼..

LET'S START WITH MAXEY!!! and ill reblog with Haliburton because i got a Lot of maxey pictures... hes very girlfriend !! (& i have to do some research on hali.. he may be bisexual shoutout rising star pics.. but he is Also.... Cryptid..)

# 1. (in NO particular order..) Potential maxey boyfriend: SCOTTIE BARNES!!!!

reasons? : HE'S SO SMILEY & SWEET!! and so is maxey! They're probably the two most endearing rooks! ALSO their whole rising star segment??? HELLO they're adorable 🥰🥰 maxey not wanting a hug from scottie because he's so sweaty... scottie bein a happy goof n huggin him anyways.. maxey laughing for the camera then bein all 'ew' to scottie n wipin the sweat off LMAO. BUT THEN THEY EPICALLY FAIL AND THEYRE BOTH LAUGHING BUT SCOTTIE'S ACTUALLY RLLY EMBARRASSED AND MAXEY (who scored ZERO points in the entire rising star game) STARTS A HUG BECAUSE HE NOW KNOWS THAT'S HOW SCOTTIE SHOWS HIS LOVE LIKE !!!!! theyre so cute.. scottie hitting maxey with a screen and making him fall (maxey too WEAK 😿!!!), but trying to help him up before joel shoves him away.... maxey looking betrayed and shocked!! oh the capulet and Montague of it All... dont worry tho 😊 !! Scottie apologized during maxey's free-throws!!!! they always try talking when it's free-throw time! they are Frens 🥰🥰 boyfrens... even 🤔? maxey already got approved by vanvleet!!! just needs to hit the gym more..

#2 . Potential maxey boyfriend: Anthony edwards !! AAAANT!!!

there's a vid of fetus ant and fetus maxey interacting, fetus ant enters the scene and the first person he recognizes n daps up is "REESE!!" He totally ignores the guy standing right next to maxey too lmao. THEN he let's maxey get away with basically calling out to the whole world that he's about to tap in with his college. Literally let rap self-snitching happen but with maxey as the mc. Ant staring at the camera like 'bruh seriously just...' but he let's maxey call him out because ! he's MAXEY!!! he's so pretty and sweet! they are FRIENDS‼️ we love ant's loyalty <33 even to the accidental snitches here !

plus ant recovers by making a joke that maxey literally screamwails over he's laughing so hard. No one else is doubling over in movement like that for ant's quickass quip except for maxey. Like ok overly-giggly cheerleader who treats the star quarterback's every word like it's a late night show.. we get it 😭. Dude next to you GETS it, maxey... he Gets it .

He K n o w s . ( & i know he knows x2 !)

Maxey wanting to impress ant so bad he says and does the corniest shit and scores 0 points at the rising star game that ant literally Did Not care about 😭 just wanted to collect his bet money from the other rooks and go.... And ant ACTUALLY liking maxey but maxey having no idea he LIKES LIKES him like that so he tries so hard to seem loveable when in actuality he's always BEEN??? insane. ant already made his kermit character go to Kentucky. bro he LIKES you REESE! he wants to be your BOYfriend‼️‼️ just KISS HIM!! K I SS hIM!!!!

# 3. Potential Maxey Boyfriend : Immanuel Quickley

COLLEGE CRUSHES?????? FRIENDS TO LOVERS SLOWBURN 100K AOC ????? WHEN!!! iq will capitalize on ANY chance he gets with maxey near him to DRAW HIM CLOSE and HOLD him. Whether it's rubbing a hand down the arch of his spine, keeping a hand on his shoulder, a hand on his neck! IQ LOVES MAXEY AND MAXEY LOVES IQ!!! never NOT leans into the touches like a touchstarved cheetah! ( i almost typed cheeto lmao). AND THE LOVE DIDN'T CEASE AFTER COLLEGE!!!!! They STAY talkin bout each other on twitter! Maxey will guiltrip iq into answering his texts and calls!! Rting and qrting each other's stuff! IQ PUTTING TYRESE AS HIS HEADER?????? theyre friends to friendly competitors (iq dropping Maxey that one time...) to LOVERS, your HONOR !!!!!!!! i love them sm i NEED more content for them iNEED more PASSENGERS on this MICKEY MOUSE STEAMBOAT 🗣‼️‼️

# 4. Potential Maxey Boyfriend : nick richards <333

ANOTHER Kentucky teammate who fell for maxey would be 7ft Jamaican hornets player NICK richards !!! He was pick 42 at center! Hornets love their himbos... i swear..

BUT SERIOUSLY L O O K AT THESE PHOTOS.... lil 6"2 tyrese staring up at nick, who's probably distracted by some butterfly, all in love... he's looking exceptionally tiny here 😭. Then they decide to draft together even though nick only had one more year to go until he could get all 4 years of college in? But he graduated with 3 all so he could be with maxey?????? THEN THEIR FIRST GAME AGAINST EACH OTHER HE SURE DIDN'T FORGET IT AND RAN OVER TO HUG HIM BEFORE THE BALL COULD BE TIPPED!!!!! in front of EVERYBODY waiting to get ready!!! he loved him THAT much and couldn't WAIT till the game was done to hug him? HELLO?? HE'S SO SWEET 😭 AND DUMB... I CARE HIM SO.... pulling maxey onto his TIPTOES with the hug HELP !!! HE LOVES HIM SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!! it almost looks like they're kissing 😭 what's with maxey and having 'last minute change of mind lovers running off the plane that was going to move far far away in order to kiss and lice life together' trope with EVERYONE and the HUG action.... insane. his babygirl Rizz 😎😎

# 5. Potential Maxey Boyfriend : Desmond Bane

IT'S TIME PEOPLE START SHOWIN SOME DBANE APPRECIATION PLEASE !!! his FRECKLES?? his FACE? his ARMS????? LET'S GO LESBANES!!! but they were fr flirting the whole rising star game... ill make a separate post of the pictured interaction later but DUDE JUST TRUST ME!! theyre ditzy beach volleyball girl and mean beach volleyball girl. THEY JUST ARE!!!!! Maxey invites little kids to a game of beach volleyball with a beach ball and Desmond kicks sand in creeps' eyes who stare at his friends. Desmond applies Maxey's sunscreen and carries the beach umbrella. Maxey brings the fun towels and sandcastle kits !! He also applies Desmond's sunscreen where he spends EXTRA time rubbing in that PESKY sunscreen lotion for Des's arms. it's the ELBOWS he SWEARS - has absolutely NOTHING to do with those LETHAL weapons Desmond calls BICEPS and TRICEPS.. ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!!!!!! he SWEARS‼️

# 6. Potential Maxey Boyfriend : Paul Reed

IF YOU NEED A TEAMMATE BOYFRIEND THOUGH.... i THINK i found one... hello 6"9 BBall Paul 😊😊. he's VERY sweet and LOVES his momma!!! and he's a Gemini??? So is iq! inch resting..... mayheps maxey has found himself another buddy to bother ? there's not a LOT of content of these two together, i gotta make a note to actively look out for it next season, but from the slim seconds i've SEEN.... they're CUTE. Tyrese really REALLY loves Paul's nickname and he actually Will Not stop referring to him as "BBall Paul". he's. Obsessed. HE JUST THINKS IT'S SO FUNNY??? AND COOL??? does maxey have bigger muscles than paul??? LMFAO that's really funny to me i love that for him!! it's very girlboss malewife to me! in the BLOSSOM! the EARLY stages... we must Wait... and See. But so far they're so sweet and encouraging to each other... maxey loves bball Paul <3 i think he has an leetle crush !!

ANYWAYS THATS ALL I COULD FIT FOR MAXEY RN PICTURE-WISE, BUT I'LL PROBABLY FIND SOME MORE!! who knows! maybe YOU'LL find some more! or have already! LEMME KNOW!!!!!!!!! n lemme know your thoughts on these as well if you want! i'm ALWAYS up for listenin to what the moots have to say! HOPE U ENJOYED AND THESE MAKE SENSE!! CIAO‼️‼️‼️

#also why is everyone in italy rn..... whats happenong #maxey #scoots #des #iq #ant eds #ted asks

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mummybear · 4 years

Text

Daddy’s Dirty Little Secret

Words: 4,002

Warnings: Daddy Kink, Swearing, Cheating, Smut, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Lots Of Dirty Talk, Secret Sex, Slight Choking, Possessive Jensen, Size Kink. (Think that’s it!)

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Nanny(Babysitter)Reader

Summary: One night it’s extremely and unseasonably cold and you’re trying to fight it off, when you get a surprise visitor.

A/N: So I know it’s been a while since my last post guys, sorry! Hope this one is worth the wait though! It went from a drabble to a one shot, and almost to a mini series but I stopped myself haha :P Enjoy!

Today had also been an unusually difficult day, with two of the three kids being ill, even then though they were still completely adorable. You love your job, being a live in nanny is like nothing else, there was just something so rewarding about it. It of course helps that the children that you look after are so good, at least most of the time. Spending all day with them and most of the evening for well over three years now, you had grown extremely close to them, in fact you’d grown close to the entire family.

Even if you did have some kind of an intense crush on their father, you’d managed to keep it hidden surprisingly well considering. That man was just goddamn ridiculous in your own defence, he was damn near perfect, and you wanted more than anything to find something wrong with him that you could focus on, but nope, not a thing, not one thing in three freaking years.

You pull your duvet up higher around your shoulders, yet again distracted by the cold. It was unseasonably cold for this time of year, and it didn’t seem to matter how hard you tried, you were still freezing cold. Your oversized t-shirt barely reaches your mid thighs, and you really wish that the rest of your pyjamas weren’t still in the wash. You want to get out of bed and wrap your fluffy robe around yourself beneath the duvet, but you can’t bring yourself to get out of bed to get it.

You’re so tired that you eventually feel yourself starting to drift off, but before you manage it completely you hear your door clicking closed and being locked as someone stumbles inside. You rationalise that it must be one of the kids out of bed, you feel the covers lift and you shiver at the cold breeze which sneaks beneath the duvet with the body. But before you can turn and tell the little one you’ll take them back to bed, you stiffen in surprise. Feeling a strong pair of warm arms wrap around your waist before you're pulled back into a solid warm chest.

There’s only one person it could possibly be, but that doesn't make any sense, he’d never done anything like this before, maybe he’d gotten into the wrong bed by accident? He had been out drinking.

You have to sink your teeth into your bottom lip when his warm calloused hands slip beneath your long t-shirt, one hand moves under your body, pulling you back impossibly closer, before the same hand curls around your hip. His free hand continues up your body, moving slowly over the dip in your waist and over your ribs.

You’re breathing hard, your heart thudding in your chest. You know you need to say something, but he feels so damn good, and the arousal is already pooling in your panties.

“Mmm, fuck you feel so good, baby girl. So soft,” he groans under his breath as he nuzzles against your neck, breath warm against your skin. You can smell the alcohol now, which confirms your suspicions.

“J-Jensen? I...uh, oh, fuck…” you whimper, feeling his big warm hand cup and squeeze your breast.

“I think you might be in the wrong bed.”

Jensen chuckles against your skin as he drags his teeth over your earlobe.

“But you’re so cold, don’t you want daddy to warm you up?” he purrs, pressing kisses against your neck and along your shoulders.

Your head is spinning, and you would swear you were dreaming if his skin wasn’t so warm against yours. God you know it’s wrong, and it’s fucked up, but you don’t want him to go.

“B-But, Jensen, you’re drunk… what about if you wake up in the morning and regret being in here with me?”

“Aww, isn’t that sweet. You worried about takin’ advantage of me, princess?” he asks, and you can hear the humour lacing his tone as he moves his hand slightly, and gently pinches your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. You arch into his touch and press your ass back into the impressive bulge in his pants.

Jensen’s fingers flex around your hip and tighten slightly, drawing you back against him tighter.

“I think that all depends on just how drunk you are,” you breathe out shakily, as his stubble grazes your neck and he chuckles quietly.

“Don’t you worry, baby girl. I know exactly what I’m doing, I was just too chicken shit to do it before. The drink was already arranged, so I had to go, but I couldn’t stop thinking about last night, those pretty little noises I heard you makin’,” he groans deeply, dragging his teeth over the patch of skin just below your ear, and it makes your belly flip in anticipation, but at the same time you’re worried about just how much he’d heard.

You swallow thickly, before pulling out of his hold and turning over to face him with wide eyes.

“Exactly how much did you hear?” you ask nervously, but coming face to him is harder than you’d first realised. God he looks so good, and you find yourself getting distracted, even by the little that you can see that isn’t hidden.

His hair is a complete sexy mess on top of his head, his eyes are a much darker green than you’ve ever seen them, and his lips look just a little more swollen and plump, just begging you to bite them. He’s shirtless, that much you could tell as soon as he’d climbed into your bed, but his boxers are still on. You are extremely aware of the fact that you're staring, and becoming more distracted by the second, when Jensen’s deep chuckle pulls you out of your thoughts.

Jensen bites his lip, clearly trying and failing to bite back a smirk.

“Like what you see I take it?” he chuckles, looking like a deadly combination between sexy and cocky, and then you feel his hand smoothing up your leg slowly, his thumb pressing in harder against your inner thigh as he moves, and your breath hitches in your throat.

“S-Shut up… A-And answer the question,” you stutter, regretting what you had said instantly and sounding way more nervous that you’d planned to. His eyes narrow, as he looks at you and you swallow thickly, rolling onto your back to try and create a little distance between the two of you, but he only gets closer and you notice the tick in his jaw.

“You wanna repeat that?” he all but growls, and you quickly shake your head.

“N-No, Daddy. I’m sorry,” you whisper as innocently as you can manage. Trying to go along with what he had said earlier, and going by the deep groan that it pulls from his lips, you’d judged the situation correctly.

“Mmm, such a good girl, you do learn fast, I’m impressed. But since you wanna know so bad, I heard everything, sweetheart. Every perfect little moan, and every single time you begged for my cock. I especially loved hearing you say that you wanted to be my perfect little slut. That still true, baby girl? You still want that?” he asks rasps, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb, just as his hand stops between your legs and his fingers brush over the damp patch in your panties.

“F-Fuck… Jensen. We shouldn’t be doing this,” you whimper loudly, feeling his fingers press against your clothed pussy with a little more pressure.

“You let me worry about that, baby girl. Answer the question, say it, come on,” he demands softly, moving his fingers up and down your clothed slit slowly, pausing as he eyes lock with yours, and he starts circling your throbbing clit.

You take a deep breath before nodding, but he cocks his eyebrow questioningly at you, as if he needs to hear you say it. So decide to risk your voice barely coming out.

“Fuck… Yes, I still want it. I uh, I still wanna be your dirty little slut,” you whisper hotly against his lips, swallowing thickly when Jensen smirks at you in that way that only he can, and you swear all the air has been stolen from your lungs.

You shuffle up the bed, and he follows as you rest your back against the pillows. His plump parted lips are only a breath away, and you can’t take it anymore. You close the distance between the two of you, wrapping your arms around his neck and your lips crash against his, in a needy and heated kiss. Jensen growls against your lips and wraps a fist in the back of your hair in an attempt to pull you closer as he eagerly responds, your scalp stings slightly at the tug, but you welcome the pain.

It feels like he’s everywhere, his big strong hands all over you. You only break apart so he can roughly tug your t-shirt over your head, then his hands and lips are back on you. The cold in the room is no longer a concern, you’re too hot to even notice it now, you push your fingers into the back of his hair and gently pull his head back.

He nibbles your bottom lip between his teeth, and groans deeply in his chest when he finally lets you pull back so you can both breathe.

“I’ve wanted to do this for ages, the amount of times I’ve jacked it in the shower thinkin’ about you in those tight little shorts and jeans, baby girl. And don’t even get me started on that perfect little mouth of yours, thinking about how fast I could have you down on your knees is fucking torture.” You whimper at his words, and your fingers tighten on him as he keeps talking.

“Wanna feel every fucking part of you… take you wherever you stand, and make you scream. And fuck... it’s so hot hearing you say it again. Except now, I can feel how wet your tight little cunt is, not just hear it through the wall.”

You’re in no doubt that you’re blushing hard,it’s an effect he’d had on you from the day he’d hired you. And hearing those words on his perfect lips paired with the tone of his voice, is enough to have your stomach doing backflips. Not to mention he had just kissed every ounce of resolve about this being a bad idea from your mind, now all you can think about is him, consequences be damned.

“I… shit… could you really hear it?” you ask a little nervously, as he tugs your panties down your legs and tosses them over his shoulder. You watch him closely as he crawls between your legs and lays on his stomach, and you swear a new wave of arousal hits you as he looks up at you with those darkened green eyes.

He’s wearing that shit eating grin again when his eyes lock with yours, and he hums quietly, nibbling on his bottom lip thoughtfully.

“Every single sexy sound, you got yourself so fuckin’ wet thinking about it didn’t you?” he purrs, pushing your legs up the bed, so that they bend at the knees, and then you let them fall open before his eyes. Enjoying the way his gaze immediately drops to your slick heat, but you’re unable to speak, seeing the look that crosses his face.

“Almost came in here, just to shut you up… didn’t want you waking up the entire house, and believe me, you were close. But I guess Daddy needs to pay the nanny a little attention too, huh?”

Jensen ducks his head, but his eyes remain on yours as his lips press against your inner thigh, and his stubble prickles deliciously at your skin, when he slowly kisses and bites his way up to where you need him the most.

“Always get wet when I think about you, Jensen. I wish you had come in. I'm sure there are plenty of ways you could've shut me up, or made me louder,” you reveal quietly, feeling your heart jump in your chest when he sucks at your skin and drags his teeth over the mark you're sure he’s left behind.

"Oh baby girl, you have no idea just how many ways I’ve thought about doing it," he all but growls, his lips a mere breath away from your slick pussy. When the tip of his nose nudges against your clit and you can't hold back the whimper of pleasure.

He’s hardly touched you, and you could swear your body is about to catch fire. You have to stop the urge you have to clamp your thighs around his head, when he suddenly flattens his tongue and licks you from your entrance to your throbbing clit with a deep rumbling moan. Your hands fist in the sheets beside your hips when he starts fucking you with his tongue, his big calloused hands move to grip under the backs of your knees and he presses them back against your chest.

“Sonofa…” you gasp, feeling the heat pooling in your stomach, the words get stuck on the tip of your tongue, and the look in his eyes is about to be the death of you.

“Hold your legs back baby,” he instructs you huskily, pulling away just long enough to speak, before he’s back between your thighs, and his tongue is back inside you, sending you closer to the edge as he hits every spot perfectly.

You do as you’re told, wrapping your arms around your legs and holding them back, just as you toss your head back into the pillows and bite your lip. Desperately trying not to cry out like you need to. But then his fingers start to circle your clit, applying just the right amount of pleasure, moving in time with his tongue and you’re so fucking close to the edge that you feel delirious.

“Daddy, please. I’m so close,” you whine needily, you feel Jensen smirk against you and he withdraws his tongue, only to replace it with two thick fingers.

He eases the thick digits in teasingly, watching your body arch into his touch.

“So fuckin’ sexy baby girl, so tight around my fingers. Can’t wait to feel this tight little cunt wrapped around my cock.”

You drop your legs and grip at the top of his hair harshly as he ducks his head again, and his lips wrap around your clit, everything is steadily becoming too much, and you have to slap your free hand over your mouth to stop your screams.

Jensen growls against your clit when your fingers tighten in his perfect mess of hair, sending vibrations shooting through every nerve and your hips arch closer, until they’re pressed down into the mattress by his strong arm. His fingers are moving fast and hard, scissoring and then curling at just the right times, you can feel his biceps bulging against your leg and stomach with the effort he’s putting in.

“Gonna… oh God! Please!” you cry out behind your hand, as his tongue starts flicking at your clit in time with his fingers moving inside you.

Your entire body goes stiff, attempting to arch as your orgasm smashes into you hard. You’re vaguely aware of his tongue lapping at everything you give, with a humming approval, as your body shakes violently beneath him, you’re not sure you’ve ever come that hard in your entire life.

Before you know it he’s pulling away, and your eyes flutter open just in time to find Jensen flinging his boxers over his shoulder, with a cocky as hell smirk on those plump lips. Your eyes instinctively drop lower, and you feel your breath catch in your throat. Your words accidentally tumble from your lips without there being any way to stop them.

“Is that gonna fit,” you swallow thickly, practically choking on the words, quickly catching yourself before you say any more you clamp your mouth closed, but you don’t miss Jensen’s smirk curling at the corners of his lips.

He moves over you, so that his body is covering yours, leaning on an elbow so his free hand can reach for your face. You feel like you can hardly breathe. The look he’s giving you is so intense, he lets his fingers slowly trail along your jaw, and then his thumb rests against your chin and your lips instinctively part.

“Oh, it’ll fit baby girl. Don’t you worry about that, we’re gonna make it,” he purrs, kissing the corner of your lips.

Before you can kiss him like you really want to, he backs off again, onto his knees between your parted thighs. He shuffles forward and drags your ass up onto his thighs, and takes his cock in his hand, his eyes roaming freely over your body as he starts to work his hand over himself. He taps his cock against your clit several times, and you bite your lip as you squirm beneath him, desperate for more, but you freeze when you feel the thick head of his cock pressing against your dripping entrance.

“Make it fit, Daddy,” you whimper, cupping your tits in your hands, and rolling your hardened nipples between your thumbs and forefingers.

“Oh, you just watch me, sweetheart.” He grabs your legs and pulls them against his solid chest, and his hands drop to your hips and you feel his fingers digging into your skin bruisingly.

His jaw is clenched tightly as he eases the tip of his cock inside you. It’s extremely clear he isn’t used to going slowly, and if you’re honest you don’t want him to.

“Do it, fill me up. Just fuck me, I can take it Daddy, please. I don’t wanna wait any more.”

Jensen’s eyes lock with yours and he bites into his bottom lip, and the thick veins in his neck become more visible.

“No baby, you’re gonna take what I give you. So fuckin’ wet for me, I bet I could just slide right inside you if I wanted to, stuff you full in one thrust,” he grits out, like that’s exactly what he wants to do, but he’s clearly intent on torturing the both of you. You can feel your blood rushing in your ears as you look down your body at him and pout at him.

You’re trying to push down onto him further, but Jensen’s grip on your hips is unyielding and bruising.

“Jensen, please,” you beg pathetically, watching the way his eyes flick up from your pussy and lock on yours.

“No, Y/N. I want you to feel every fucking inch of my thick cock stretching out this tight little cunt,” his voice is practically a growl at this point, and you don’t remember ever being this turned on in your life.

Your hands drop from your breasts to fist at the bedsheets beside your bodies, as Jensen starts to gently rock his hips, you notice the way his eyes are locked on his cock as he fucks into you teasingly slow.

“Fuck, Jensen. Feels so good, your voice…” you gasp loudly, cutting yourself off as his hips snap against yours and he fills you completely.

“So fuckin’ tight and wet Y/N… shit. You like my dirty mouth, baby girl? You like hearing about how I’m gonna destroy this pussy, use your body for all it’s worth?”

“Oh God, yes! Always did love your voice,” you pant out harshly between whimpers, feeling your heart hammering in your chest.

Jensen starts to thrust his hips, pulling out almost all of the way, before effortlessly sliding back inside you with a rumbling groan, picking up a steady rhythm that has you gasping for breath all over again. You can tell he’s holding back, but you can’t stop looking at him, or the sweat clings to his tanned skin. Noticing the way his arms bulge with his tight grip on your hips, his plump bottom lip caught between his teeth, and the look of complete pleasure which has overtaken his gorgeous features.

He looks back up to meet your eyes, “Yeah? You like being Daddy’s dirty little secret too?” he groans, his pace increasing, until you can hear the slapping of your skin against his echoing around the room.

You can’t help the loud moan that leaves your lips, because fuck, you really do. Every precise thrust has him repeatedly hitting your G-spot.

“Yes, oh God yes, I love being your dirty secret,” you cry out, louder than you mean to, feeling your orgasm beginning to burn hard in your stomach. Jensen shifts suddenly, until his body is over yours, keeping your legs pressed against his chest.

Before you can let out a pleasured scream at the new angle, Jensen’s big hand covers your mouth. You can hardly think let alone breathe, he’s so deep inside you that every hard thrust has you sure you’ll feel his cock for a week.

Jensen’s head drops into the crook of your neck and shoulder, his breath hot against your skin, he turns slightly, until his plump lips are angled towards your ear.

“Good. Because I ain’t letting this pussy go now, princess. You’re. All. Fucking. Mine,” he grunts out, punctuating each word with a particularly hard and deep thrust. You nod several times, loving how possessive he’s being. He pulls back suddenly and his hand drops from your mouth to wrap around your throat.

“Say it,” he demands, eyes dark and dangerous.

Your pussy clenches hard around his cock and you moan his name, “all yours, Daddy. Only yours,” you manage to rasp out, squeezing your eyes closed as your climax threatens to explode.

“Good girl. Now, fucking look at me when you come all over my cock.”

Your eyes snap open at his command, only to see the intense gaze in his eyes as he looks down at you. His cock is filling you perfectly, and he’s so deep, stretching you more than you’d ever been before, and you don’t ever want it to end, but you’re so close.

White hot pleasure clouds your vision when Jensen tilts his hips a little more, and those final thrusts throw you over the edge and into the oblivion of your orgasm. You faintly feel his grip tighten on your throat as you silently scream his name, only vaguely aware of him growling your name against your skin as he thrusts deep inside you and his body stills.

When you finally start to come down, you can feel your climax mixed with his leaking out around his cock. He’s still panting hard, and when you open your eyes he’s gently lowering your legs before he pulls out, with a soft moan of his own, and flops down on the mattress beside you.

“Jesus Christ,” you half laugh, turning on your side to face him.

“Fuck, princess, you can say that again,” Jensen sighs contentedly, throwing a strong arm over your waist and pulling you against him as he rolls onto his back.

You smile against his skin, pressing soft kisses above his wildly beating heart, enjoying how his fingers start combing through your hair, which was something that you definitely hadn’t expected from him. You bite your lip as you look up at him and you can’t help feel a little nervous, “you should probably get going, Jay, I don’t want you getting caught in here,” you all but whisper, as you start to remember he’s actually your married boss.

“Oh, so it’s Jay now, huh? No more Daddy, please?” Jensen smirks, brushing the tips of his fingers over the dip in your hip.

“Jensen, don’t tease me like that,” you tell him, barely above a whisper trying to hide the waver in your voice.

“I told you. I’m not letting you go now, sweetheart. Sleep for now, we’ll talk in the mornin’. Besides, like I said you’re all mine.”

Bolded wouldn’t tag guys sorry!

All Tags: @chewie-redbird @julzdec @lettersofwrittencollective @stiles-o-dylan24 @mogaruke @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @dylanholyhellobrien @desireepow-1986 @lilulo-12 @22sarah08 @negans-lucille-tblr @cockslut-padalecki @deanwanddamons @simsadventures @charmed-asylum @nicole-lynne @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @defenderrosetyler @emilyshurley @foxyjwls007 @mylovelydame21 @sunshineandwings86 @akshi8278 @peaches007 @stylesismyhubs @peachyyybabyy @fantasy-myth1 @death-unbecomes-you @coffeebooksandfandom @magssteenkamp

Jensen/Dean Tags: @fandom-princess-forevermore @hobby27 @littlelonewolfgirl @ladywinchester1967 @screechingartisancashbailiff @maddiepants @spnfanfic-reblogs @holylulusworld @mrswhozeewhatsis @sonofabringmesomepie @deans-baby-momma @mrsjenniferwinchester @hhiggs @pisces-cutie @trina44sb @heartsaved @matsumama @adoptdontshoppets @beth-winchester21 @doctor-hp-mcu @mrspeacem1nusone @fanddoms4love @deanmonandnegansbitch @nihilismworld @bxbyizzy @noobwuvsj2 @lyarr24 @hearteyes-j2

Pond Tags: @aprofoundbondwithdean @manawhaat @nichelle-my-belle @notnaturalanahi @deanscarlett @roxy-davenport @impala-dreamer @samsgoddess @frenchybell @scorpiongirl1 @deandoesthingstome @deansleather @curliesallovertheplace @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @waywardjoy @imadeangirl-butimsamcurious @kayteonline @supernatural-jackles @wevegotworktodo @quiddy-writes @babypieandwhiskey @supermoonpanda @deanwinchesterforpromqueen @chaos-and-the-calm67-blog @memariana91 @teamfreewill-imagine @chelsea-winchester @becs-bunker @castieltrash1 @supernaturalyobessed @ruined-by-destiel @winchester-writes @maraisabellegrey-blog @faith-in-dean @winchestersmolder @bennyyh @clueless-gold @deanwinchesterxreader @winchester-family-business @there-must-be-a-lock @just-another-winchester @cas-backwards-tie @winecatsandpizza @firefly-in-darkness

#Jensen Ackles #Jensen #jensen ackles supernatural #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x nanny #jensen ackles x nanny reader #jensen ackles x babysitter #jensen ackles x baby sitter reader #jensen ackles x babysitter reader #supernatural #jensen ackles smut #jensen ackles one shot #jensen ackles daddy kink #dean winchester #jensen ackles x you

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nagitoandkokichioneshots · 3 years

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Nagito’s Fluff Alphabet

Mod Ibuki: Yes!!! Two of Mod Ibuki’s favorite things! Fluff and Nagito! Here you are, Nonnie! I hope you enjoy! Fluff alphabet is from @mod-sonia-writes-stuff

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

-Nagito loves being able to just spend time with or around his SO. I feel like one of his favorite things would be quiet dates while cuddling and just enjoying each others company.

-Nagito would love to do quiet activities with his SO like reading outside or going for walks on sunny days.

B eauty- What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

-....This man you guys.... Nagito would believe every inch of his SO is the most beautiful thing in the universe! Nagito would adore his SO in all of their being.

-If his SO is insecure about something, you’d better believe he’s going to spend the next few hours telling you about how much he adores every bit of you and how your so called “flaws” are really just what make you even more beautiful.

-Although, Nagito is more of one to fall in love with his SO for who they are, rather than what they look like. I think he finds his SO’s kindness to be the most beautiful thing about them.

C omfort- How would they help their S/O when they feel down/have a panic attack?

-Nagito can read his SO like a novel. When he notices them starting to spiral, you’d better believe he’ll be there with his arms open. Nagito has had more than his fair share of panic attacks, so he’s also pretty quick to realize when his SO starts to spiral.

-He starts out by pulling you into his arms and repeating sweet nothings as well as reminders that you are safe.

-After you calm down, he’d ask you if you’d want to talk about it, and he’d hands down be the best listener when it came to needing a listening ear.

-If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s completely fine! Nagito would spend the rest of the day telling you how much he loves you and would probably be watching your comfort shows/movies with you.

D reams- How do they picture their future with their s/o?

-Honestly, Nagito never even would’ve thought he would’ve gotten this far. His luck has blessed him with an angel.

-He’s hesitant about planning ahead too much, because he’s afraid his bad luck will jinx everything.

-But deep down, Nagito would be happy as long as you loved him forever, and he got the chance to love you forever <3

E qual- Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

-Nagito overall is pretty passive, most of the time he lets his SO make decisions because for a while, he didn’t believe he was good enough to be making decisions.

-It took a lot of love and convincing on your part to remind him that you are equals in your relationship and you wanted his input.

-Even after he brings to make suggestions for date ideas and such, he would always seem to want your approval. Give it to him. Give it to him now

F ight- Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

-Honestly, fights with Nagito are about as rare as they come.

-I honestly find it hard to believe Nagito would really have true fights with his SO.

-When/if they do fight though, usually it would be about Nagito’s SO trying to help him with his self depreciation.

G rattitude- How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

- Nagito is beyond grateful for his SO! He’ll let you know every second he gets the chance to as well!

-“SO, I truly am lucky to be graced with your beautiful hope every day”

- Nagito is more than aware of what his SO is doing for him and honestly feels guilty at first. He thinks he doesn’t deserve you, but overtime that insecurity fades

H onesty- Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

-I think Nagito would be a mostly open book with his SO, although it would take a while for him to open up to them.

- Once he’s comfortable, I believe he would tell his SO just about anything

I nspiration- Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helping them over some personal problems?

-I think we all are aware of Nagito’s self depreciation by now.

- It took a long time, but eventually you were able to help him break this hateful way of thinking.

-Anytime he would say he was trash or unworthy, you would step in with complimenting him instead

-“Are you really sure it’s okay for trash like me to touch you?”

-“Nagito, I think you’re beautiful. And yes, I’m completely sure.”

-The first time you did this he was completely taken aback

-Nagito.exe has stopped working

J ealousy- Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

-Nagito does get jealous easily, but not in the traditional sense.

-For instance, if he sees his SO spending time or talking with someone else, he goes back to self deprecating.

-When he gets like this, he does one of two things

1) distances himself as much as possible in the current area or

2) Tends to hover or even become clingy

-After the first few times, his SO picks up on his behavior and tries to include him in the conversation or holds his hand while drawing patterns on his palm as reassurance.

K iss- Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

-Nagito is pretty hesitant at first when it comes to kisses.

-He’s so afraid that he doesn’t deserve you and feels as if he’d be dirtying you in some way at first.

-As for the first kiss, I believe that his SO would have to initiate it.

-This would be his first kiss as well, so he wouldn’t think he would be very experienced, but it’s a good thing luck is on his side because his kisses are always gentle and comforting

-The first few kisses you share are very soft, almost as if your lips are barely touching at all.

-After a while though, he realizes how addicted he is to his SO’s kisses and quickly becomes more comfortable

-He’ll never outright ask for a kiss, however you can usually tell when he wants one.

L ove Confession- How would they confess to their s/o?

- I believe after Nagito allows himself to love you, he would tell you right away

- He would wrap his arms around them and whisper to them about how in love he is with them and the hope that they emit

-You can feel just how fast his heart is beating as he confesses and how it speeds up when you tell him that you love him too

M arriage- Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

-Nagito has always wanted to get married, but I do believe he would be scared that his luck would get in the way

-It would take some time and a lot of heart-to-heart conversations, but he would eventually ask you to marry him.

-I believe he would propose to you on a pretty relaxed date while doing something you both enjoy

-When married, Nagito would be a stay at home husband because of his illness while his s/o would be at work or whatever they choose.

-Because of Nagito’s wealth, you don’t necessarily need to work if you don’t want to. However, he would be fully supportive of whatever his SO chooses to do.

N icknames- What do they call their s/o?

-You are 100% without a doubt “My Hope”

-Would also call you “Angel”, “My love”, or “My dear”.

O n Cloud Nine- What are they like when they are in love? How do they express their feelings?

-I believe that Nagito would definitely follow his SO and be kinda clingy

-When this boy is w h i p p e d for his SO he is going to follow them around like a puppy

-He also looks at his SO like they are the most precious thing in the world (because, well, to him they are)

-Nagito would be one to wrap his arms around his SO and whisper in their ear about how much they mean to him

-Please play with his hair when he does this

P DA- Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag about their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

-Oh 100% upfront about his relationship

-When talking to others, he will always find a way to talk about his SO and how wonderful they are with a lovestruck look gracing his features

-When it comes to physical PDA though, it takes a while for Nagito to get comfortable with the idea of it’s something you desire.

-After a while though, is almost always holding your hand or hugging you from behind

Q uirk- Some random ability they have that’s beneficial to the relationship

-Hmm so I believe that his luck combined with his knowledge of romance stories would be very beneficial.

-Nagito swears he knows nothing about relationships but this man is S M O O T H

- Nagito is 100% the guy that would have flowers delivered to your work because they reminded him of you

R omance- How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliche or rather creative?

-Like stated above, Nagito is a hopeless romantic who tends to be more on the cliche side.

-He would quite literally do anything to make his SO happy. Want chocolate and snuggles? Done. Can’t sleep and want to watch a movie? He’s there with your favorite blanket and snack.

S upport- Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

-Nagito would be supportive of his SO i’m just about anything they set themselves to achieve as long as it doesn’t harm them in some way.

-He will always be there to support and love you no matter what you set your mind to <3

T hrill- Do they need to try out new things to spice up your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

-Leave Nagito’s luck to spice just about anything up. That being said, he prefers to plan things to be pretty simple in the beginning. Sometimes however, his luck can make your plans take quite the unexpected turn

-I believe he would like to have some sort of routine and stay on the calmer side though. Just enjoying being in the presence of his SO is already more than enough for him

U nderstanding- How well do they know their partner?

-Nagito is very good at reading people, his SO is no exception

-Nagito is able to read his SO like a book, and sometimes you’re convinced he knows you better than you know yourself

-He can pick up even the slightest hint of discomfort or unease that you may produce in .5 seconds

V alue- How important is the relationship to them?

-Your relationship means absolutely everything to Nagito. Not a day goes by when he doesn’t think of his SO

-It was his dream to someday be loved, and now that he’s got that, he’s going to hold onto it as best as he can

W ild card- A random fluff headcannon

-Nagito absolutely LOVES playing with his S/O’s hair. Whether he’s simply running his hands through it, or braiding it, he’ll always be content.

-He’s also very good at braiding hair, and if you ask him to braid it, he’ll be there in 10 seconds with a comb and a hair tie.

-He also loves his hair being played with. He’ll fall asleep the quickest with his head on your chest and your fingers running through his fluffy hair.

X OXO- How affectionate are they?

-Nagito is a very affectionate lover. You wouldn’t be able to go a day without knowing how much he loves and appreciates you.

-I personally believe that Nagito’s love language would be physical touch, so he would always want to be close to you any second you have the chance

Y earning- How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

-Nagito would be very down when missing his SO and I believe he would become even more withdrawn.

-He usually copes by reminiscing about time the two of you have shared and by looking at pictures you two have together

Z eal- Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship?

-I believe Nagito would do just about anything for his SO. As stated before, his relationship means just about everything to him so you’d better believe he’d be willing to go to great lengths for his SO.

-You are his ultimate hope after all <3

#danganronpa x reader #nagito komaeda #danganronpa x y/n #nagito x reader #nagito oneshot #nagito headcanons #nagito fluff #Mod Ibuki

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bamfdaddio · 3 years

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X-Men Abridged: 1981 - the Body-Swap

The X-Men, those body-swapping mutants that have sworn to protect a world that hates and fears them, are a cultural juggernaut with a long, tangled history. We’ve been untangling that history for a while, but sometimes, you really want a more in-depth look. Interested? Then read the (un)Abridged X-Men!

(Uncanny X-Men 151 - 152) - by Chris Claremont and Josef Rubinstein

Emma Frost and her frenemy Ororo Munroe have not been getting along! One fateful evening, as the two quibble away, they mysteriously switch bodies and minds. Talk about your Freaky Friday! What lessons will they learn, walking a mile in one another’s shoes? And will they be able to switch back, or will they stay in each other’s bodies forever? Mutant Monday, coming soon to a cinema near you. Starring: Elizabeth Banks, Angela Bassett and Elliot Page. (PG-13)

For a moment, we’re in a proper period drama: a letter delivers ill tidings!

I love that Kitty’s parents are so self-involved that it took them A WHOLE YEAR to realize that it’s weird that Kitty is the only non-adult attending the Xavier Institute.

I can only assume the mailman interrupted a pool party of some kind? Or a communal shower? I get why Kurt would not swim a lot - all that fur - but did Scott wear that while they were splashing around? Was it a beach volleyball competition where one half got to wear swimsuits and the other half superhero costumes? Most importantly, was Scott’s costume always this tight?

Not that I’m complaining, mind you.

The awful thing is that Kitty’s parents are transferring her to the Massachusetts Academy, not realizing that headmistress Emma Frost is, in fact, a terrible human being. Charles, uncharacteristically, says that changing their minds telepathically is a line he does not cross (any more) and half the viewing audience bursts out in laughter. More importantly, last they saw Emma, she was kind of dead-by-Phoenix, so it might be better there this time? Kitty does a Classic Teenage Stomp-Off and Storm comes to comfort her. Kitty cries that life is unfair (“My parents are only doing this because they’re splitting up”) and Ororo tells her that yes, life is unfair. You just gotta roll with the punches as best you can.

To be fair, bald men are technically all cheek, so it doesn’t matter where you kiss them.

While I enjoy the relationship Kitty has with the other X-Men (Scott gave her a compliment! Logan told her his name!), especially the mother-daughter-bond she shares with Ororo, the whole Piotr-thing always gives me pause. Even if we’re being very generous with age, Kitty is, what? 14 going on 15? And Piotr is… 19? At best? I get why Kitty would have a crush on him: he’s a gentle hunky giant: at fifteen, my teenage ass would have felt the exact same viz-a-viz Colossus’ upper arms. The fact that Piotr reciprocates feels skeevy, though, especially because they’re always treated like star-crossed idiots these days.

Skee-vy.

Ororo drives Kitty to Massachusetts, where her young ward is greeted by someone named Muffy and whisked away for orientation. All seems well. Ororo stands in a parlour, surveying the grounds and considering that they should have fought harder for Kitty. Still, nothing seems too wrong just yet: this Academy just seems very preppy.

Not-at-all-dead Emma takes her cue and jumps out, saying (essentially): “Surprise motherfucker.”

There’s a flash of light, and then...

I’m willing to bet that Emma’s EVIL journal has the following to-do-list: - Steal Storm’s body. - Experiment with her powers. - See how good Storm looks in white. (Leather? Fur?! Both!??) - REWARD: Smoke break.

I wonder if Emma’s plan hinged on being able to body-swap with Storm, or whether any X-Man would have sufficed. Was her original target Xavier? Cyclops? What if one of Kitty’s parents had brought her to Massachusetts, would she have taken Kitty instead?

In a locked cell, Storm wakes up in Emma’s body and is horrified. I wonder why Emma didn’t take any more precautions. Couldn’t the guy who made the freaky friday-gizmo also make a power dampener to nullify not!Emma’s telepathic abilities? Or did Emma count on her victim being so utterly incapacitated by her mind-powers that they’d be driven mad? (This would actually tie in with some of Emma’s later-revealed history: when her powers first emerged, she also got locked away in a padded room because of her madness.)

Emma is not wrong, by the way: Storm can’t get a handle on Emma’s powers. What follows is possibly the sweetest moment in an arc filled with sweet moments:

This arc isn’t drawn by any of the regulars - not Byrne, not Cockrum - but Josef Rubinstein brings his own kind of panache to the pages. I love the way he draws women’s faces: in a story that’s all about women, their faces are actually distinguishable. Kudoz.

Emma, meanwhile, coordinates with Sebastian Shaw to execute the second part of their two-pronged attack on the X-Men. They both laugh evilly in their phones while the mansion is attacked by Sentinels! These androids take out Cyclops and Xavier with some sleeping gas and knock out Nightcrawler, but the rest of the X-Men manage to trounce these robots. Then ‘Storm’ appears! She zaps the rest of the X-Men (and Amanda Sefton), successfully finishing their master-plan.

It’s not entirely clear what the Hellfire Club wants with the X-Men this time, but I’m assuming it’s more experimentation to improve the sentinels? Eh, doesn’t matter! Nefarious Hellfire Club is nefarious.

The real Storm, meanwhile, comes to claim Kitty, forgetting that she looks like the one and only Emma Frost. Kitty spooks and Storm accidentally reaches out, knocking her out telepathically. Whoops! Storm takes Kitty and flees in a car, while Emma gives chase. (How dare Ororo run off with her body, which is absolutely the kind of hypocritical hilariousness we all love Emma for.)

Kitty awakens and jumps from the car, causing Storm to swerve and...

JETSTREAM!? Speaking of which, where are the Hellions in all of this?

Kitty sees that an unconscious ‘Emma’ is about to burn to a tender and moist little crisp and she is faced with the hero’s dilemma: would you save a villain that would never save you?

Emma, meanwhile, has realized the downside to body-swapping: somebody else gets to run around with your body too. Shaw, of all people, talks her down from her anger.

You can’t just introduce a persona exchange gun to the plot WITHOUT EXPLAINING WHERE THE FUCK YOU GOT IT FROM.

My favorite detail is that Emma keeps calling Kitty brat, like she’s some sort of Pokémon-villain.

Kitty, meanwhile, has saved ‘Emma’ and tied her up with a special knot. Storm tries to convince Kitty, going for the “ask me something only Storm would know”, but Kitty’s all: “Duh, you’re a telepath.” Ororo insists, but the thing that clinches it is when she breaks free of her ties without breaking a sweat. That knot was taught to Kitty by Ororo and she’d be the only one who knew how to break out of it.

Storm and Kitty recruit Stevie Hunter to come pick them up and during the ride, Storm-being-angry-mother!Storm convinces Kitty more than anything else:

After all, Storm was voted most likely to say: “If you don’t stop this nonsense immediately, I will turn this Blackbird around, so help me God!”

Ororo and Kitty sneak inside. Ororo even uses Emma’s telepathy to help her pick a lock after phasing through a door. (Kind of funny: Kitty’s still such a neophyte that she can’t even phase with anyone else yet.) Emma, meanwhile, taunts the captured X-Men, presenting herself as the new white queen:

Anybody feel the inclination to point out that the Hellfire Club did this exact same thing last year, except then they tried it with a redhead?

I secretly suspect that the Hellfire Club’s plots always revolve around seducing X-Men to their side and dressing them up in sexy lingerie. (Which: fair.) There’s also a subplot where the guys Wolverine cut apart last year want to exact revenge on him for being made bionic, but eh. We’ll start paying attention to them when they become actual Reavers.

Kitty phases through the locks of the X-Men, freeing them, and a kerfuffle ensues. Emma starts using Storm’s powers, but they grow out of control. Colossus tosses Shaw out of the window - which should just be company policy, really: all Shaws should be defenestrated - where he’s promptly hit by a rogue thunderbolt.

When he doesn’t get up, Emma starts to lose it. The weather goes wild. Storm intervenes, using her telepathic power to help calm down Emma (and the raging storm), but she also manages to get a hold of the swap-gun. There’s a zap, and with a satisfied sigh, the status-quo is restored again.

My favorite implication is that, apparently, Emma decides which school Kitty attends and not her parents.

While this little arc is neither the most iconic nor the most profound of 1981 -- those would be Days of Future Past and I, Magneto, respectively -- I still love this for a couple of reasons.

As a lover of Freaky Friday, 17 Again and the new Jumanji-film, I just have a soft spot for body swap plots. (Hi Psylocke!)

It focuses on the Xavier Institute as a school, planting seeds for the upcoming New Mutants.

It is very female-driven without beating you over the head with it. (Looking at you, Birds of Prey.)

It has three definitive main characters, who all get fleshed out in fun and interesting ways. It starts the trend of robbing Ororo of some of her powers and tossing her into against-the-odds circumstances, only for her to come out on top.

It solidifies the Storm/Kitty mother/daughter (or older/younger sibling) dynamic. Kitty is a believable teenager when it comes to Storm - clever and kind, but also looking for answers and prone to rash decisions - and I love how much they care for each other.

Jean/Storm-friendship-callback, yay!

Emma gets fleshed out as a villain. Resourceful and petty, powerful and vain. It’s no wonder she’s one of the break-out antagonists of the X-Men, because, like Magneto, Claremont is not afraid of giving her depth. Arguably, she is the most three-dimensional of the Hellfire Club at this point.

Yay! And fuck completely sensible plots, if you don’t know what to do with your plot, just introduce a random persona exchange gun. Let’s use it on Xavier and Legion in Way of X next!

#x-men abridged #abridged x-men #x-men #storm #professor x #kitty pryde #uncanny x-men #emma frost #cyclops #nightcrawler #stevie hunter #colossus #sebastian shaw

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sidespart · 3 years

Text

The Fall of King Romulus Part 6

Summary: Twin Princes Remus and Romulus are cursed at birth with Honesty and Obedience. When Romulus, who cannot disobey any order, is told to kill his brother the next time he lays eyes on him, he changes his name to Roman and runs away. Roman joins up with a misfit group of adventures and plans to never return to his homeland. But the fae have other plans for him...

Warnings (for whole fic not necessarily individual chapters): Violence, mind whammying/memory altering, curse of obedience related consent issues, references to sex, references to war related injuries/PTSD, references to child abuse/neglect (YMMV on that one but just in case), antagonstic-but-not-exactly villian!Janus, Extremly-moraly-dubious-but-not-exacty-unsympathetic-Remus

EXTRA WARNINGS - this chapter is pretty much unrelenting whump and the violence and consent issues (past) tags strongly apply. I have put more detailed (spoiler heavy) warnings at the bottom so if you’re particularly sensitive to that stuff and want to scroll down to check before you read you can do so.

Feedback appreciated.

NOW ON AO3 :D

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

In a tavern just outside of Leovan the crowd roars another! And Roman laughs and gamely starts to play another jig. He’s been playing for hours and he drinks in the attention happily, even as the cheers of the crowd become a ringing in his ears. The night is long and his throat is raw and his stomach empty and it’s harder and harder to keep his eyes focused, but his hands are steady on the strings. He sways in place, sweat dripping into his eyes, but it doesn’t matter- the crowd adore him. They sing and dance and laugh along, and after each set they call another, another, another until the room is spinning and his throat is bleeding and the audience’s laughter had turned cruel and high and lilting and-

Roman woke with a gasp and immediately regretted it.

The underground room was still pitch black, the humidity still cloying. At some point during his fitful sleep he had slumped to the floor, Lucius’ ill-attempt at binding having come loose enough to allow him to slide his arms down the length of the pipe. He was awkwardly sprawled at the base with his wrists still pinned above his head and his legs twisted underneath him. He tugged experimentally at his binding and got a sharp spike of pain down his shoulders and spine for his trouble. Whilst he had wasted time sleeping, the silk had become sodden from the moisture of the room and shrunk tight against his wrists, making even Lucius’ knotwork impossible to pull apart.

Not that it would have made much difference if he could get it loose.

Stay here until I come back with your transport.

Grunting with pain, he managed to untangle his legs out from under him and sit up. He pushed himself up on his knees as best he could, trying to relieve some of the pressure on his wrists, but gave it up quickly as the pain lacing down his shoulders intensified.

This was bad.

He chewed on his bottom lip, trying to think, but the heat was making it almost impossible. The black of the room kept swirling back in to crowded tavern, the rush of water into the jeers of a crowd…he could feel the raw burn on his throat and his mind scrambled desperately for another song-

Except it hadn’t happened like that. He shook his head furiously, his hair flicking sweat into the room, trying to banish the tavern from his mind. He had already started traveling with the others by the time he sang in Leovan and if he’d tried to perform so late into the night Virgil would have come stomping down the stairs to tell him he was being ridiculous and to go and get some sleep.

Or Patton would have sat up listening, playing bodyguard, until he couldn’t keep his own eyes open and sweetly suggested that the crowd might want to be getting home to their own families.

Or Logan would appear, pocket watch in hand, demanding he finish within a set time frame in order to allow for optimal sleeping hours.

Roman could almost hear the lecture, relief at a chance to escape the crowd mingling with exasperation at the scholars ridged scheduling.

In the dark Roman glanced over to where he thought the door should be.

The only sound was the gentle hiss of water.

He tried pulling at the rope again.

***

“Hey! It’s you!”

The man blocking Roman’s path back to the ballroom was clearly drunk. He stumbled towards Roman, half leaning on the hallway wall for support, a big dopy smile on his face. “I saw you- I saw you back there – wow!”

“Thank you friend.” Roman smiled brightly and took a step backwards, but not quickly enough to prevent the guy from grasping onto his sash.

“You’re so pretty.” The guy breathed, his eyes unfocused but his grip firm, “I saw you lookin’ at me when you were singin’.”

Roman squirmed. He was almost certainly better trained than his admirer, and he had had a lot less ale, but he was also shorter and skinnier. With the man pressed so close in the narrow hallway it was almost impossible to find the leverage he needed to push him off.

And. This was a nice place. And by the quality of the man’s clothing he was an honoured guest not a servant. Roman had been the one to convince his new companions to accompany him to the local lord’s house for the ball, he had wanted to give them to a chance to relax whilst he performed. He didn’t want to get himself, and them, kicked out by causing a scene- not when he was half hoping they would allow him to continue to travel with them even though the job he’d been hired for was done.

“I look at everyone-” he said, smile fixed and polite ”– engaging the audience is actually very important for-“

“Shush.” The man whispered.

Roman shushed. Grinding his teeth in frustration.

His assailant brought one hand up to paw at his face in a clumsy attempt at seduction, thick rings knocking against Romans jaw. His other hand released the bard’s sash to grip his wrist instead.

“Kiss me,” the man breathed, the stink of ale on his breath making Roman gag.

Face burning with mounting frustration and embarrassment, Roman attempted to plant a quick kiss on his cheek, but the man twisted his head at the last moment to meet his lips with his own. Pressing Roman back against the wall with a slobbering assault as he attempted to pry Roman’s lips open with his tongue.

Panic flickered in Roman’s belly and then just as quickly dulled. It was generally easier to let these things run their course.

And then, suddenly, the pressure on his mouth – and wrist and chest - was gone.

Roman blinked open eyes he didn’t remember squeezing shut to see Patton with an expression so furious Roman had to fight the instinct to cower.

“What.” Patton snarled “Do you think you’re doing?”

“I di-didn’t mean to-“ Roman started.

“Well?!” Patton roared and Roman realised he wasn’t speaking to him – but rather the rich man who appeared to be rapidly sobering up in Patton’s grip. The warrior held him by the scuff of his neck, his toes just scraping the floor. When Patton shook him, the plethora of chains around his neck clinked together musically.

“Roman,” Patton asked, his voice still shaking with an anger that made Roman draw his shoulders up instinctively “do you…know this man?”

“Well…no.” Roman glanced at the chains again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as his heart rate started to return to normal “I think he might be the mayor though Pat, put him down!”

“I don’t care if he’s the King of the elves! Did you want to kiss him?”

“Well no, but – but its fine! These things happen!”

“You call yourself a Prince and this is how you carry on?”

Wait. What?

Roman blinked, feeling strangely hot in the cool hallway.

Patton wasn’t supposed to say that. Patton was supposed to ask what he meant. And Roman would backtrack and feed him some lines about people often feeling entitled to performers time off stage – which was not untrue – and Patton would look at him wide eyed and tell him that would never happen again –

“You’ve been told over and over, to keep yourself to yourself.”

- that Patton would stand guard at every performance from now on if that’s what it took.-

“If you insist on putting yourself into these situations, don’t come crying to me when the inevitable happens.”

-And Roman would be so elated at the implication that they were to keep travelling together that he would almost forget to feel embarrassed at the situation.-

Patton’s lips narrowed into a thin disapproving line, “Don’t be naive. You are far better off alone, Romulus.”

“Dad?” Roman whispered.

“He doesn’t look much like the Prince.”

“Oh, like you’ve seen him.”

“Well he’s meant to be handsome right? This guy’s not winning any contests.”

Roman opened his eyes, squinting against the light. Three men stood around him, illuminated by the glow of an oil lamp. For one wild moment elation flooded through him - his friends had found him after all!

And then their conversation registered and he scowled. Disappointment robbing him of a witty comeback to their insults.

Still. Let them travel almost non-stop for three weeks, spend a night standing out in the middle of a field whilst an old woman sang at herbs, march for five days through a forest - including a detour through he thickets brambles known to man- and then follow that up with an entire day wandering around the city, have two panic attacks and be left to sleep tied up in caller. And then see if they looked their best.

With the gag still in his mouth, Roman’s attempt to covey this sentiment were mercifully muffled.

“I don’t know.” The biggest of the three stepped forward, grabbing a handful of Roman’s hair and yanking his head back painfully, abruptly cutting off his complaints. “I can kinda see it.”

“Be careful Niki,” the one who had first spoken whispered, he was holding the lantern and keeping well back from Roman. “His nibs thinks he’s got devils with him.”

“In here?” Niki cast a glance around at the iron cage of pipework that covered the room. “If he does they’re not coming out.”

“Still.” Lantern-boy whined.

“Well let’s test it.” Niki grinned down and Roman spitefully and released his grip on his hair. In one quick movement he had produced an iron dagger, not unlike Roman’s own, and pressed the flat of it to Roman’s cheek.

Roman stared at him.

“There you see? If was possessed he’d be screaming.” Niki said smugly and pulled his knife back, twisting it slightly as he did so, leaving a shallow cut along Roman’s cheek, making him wince.

“Careful,” lantern-boy said meaningfully “he’s still the Prince’s brother.”

“Oops.” Niki smiled cheerfully down at Roman. “My bad.”

“He needs to drink.” The third man stood far enough back from the lantern that Roman couldn’t see his face, but he saw the way the other two responded to his soft voice, their posture automatically stiffening.

“Here,” lantern-boy stepped forward after a moment, holding out a water skin to Niki who rolled his eyes but reached down to rip the gag from Roman’s mouth.

Roman coughed, swallowing air greedily. His throat was painfully dry, all moisture sucked out by the silk, but he still hesitated when Niki held the skin up to his mouth.

“Listen to me.” He croaked “you-“

“Just drink it.” Niki snapped and Roman surged forward despite himself, swallowing a few precious mouthfuls before the skin was yanked away again.

“You’re from Notaleveale.” he whispered. “Right?”

“Obviously.” Lantern-boy muttered, taking the water skin back from his companion.

“Well then,” he drew himself up as much as he could, ignoring the pain the movement caused “ – as true men of The North I must implore you to assist me. The Marquis has been embroiled in some- some conspiracy of untruths, is perhaps plotting against the very crown itself and-“

“The Marquis de Orenlla couldn’t plot his way out of a paper bag.” Niki snorted contemptuously.

Roman opened and closed his mouth a few times.

“Isn’t he your Lord?” he asked eventually feeling bizarrely offended on the Marquis’ behalf. Niki and lantern-boy were both wearing chest plates embossed with the three peaked mountain range that signified allegiance to Orenlla, the royal kraken of Notaleveale floating above. They were clearly guardsmen brought with Lucius on his journey south.

The third man, who hadn’t spoken since he mentioned Roman needing to drink, wore no identifying uniform.

“It’s not an insult.” Niki shrugged, “personally I prefer an employer too daft to organise a coupe.”

Lantern-boy nodded in agreement, “It’s a, whatcha call it - a positive working environment, innt?”

“…alright.” Roman decided to change tactics. “I’ll double what he’s paying you.” This time both men laughed.

“With what?”

“Well, I. I’m still a Prince I’ll have you know - I have many rich and influential friends who would gladly-“

“Oh really. Where are they then?”

There was an unpleasant pause whilst Roman desperately tried to get his brain to think. He was supposed to be more creative than this!

“You’re no Prince of ours anyhow.” Lantern-boy stepped a bit closer to glare into Roman’s eyes. “Traitor.”

Roman flinched back at the pure look of venom on the young man’s face.

Little fae touched traitor.

“Listen to me. Whatever you’ve heard – it’s not true. My father-“

“Don’t you dare speak his name!” Niki surged froward, pulling Roman up by the neck of his tunic. Their faces were close enough that Roman could feel the spittle from the man’s mouth land on his cheek as he shouted: “After your despicable actions you would dare to-“

“Nicolas. Don’t upset yourself.”

The third man was barely visible to Roman over Niki- Nicholas’- shoulder, but as soon as he spoke the large man stilled, lowering Roman slowly back to the ground.

“Marcus. Some more light if you will.”

Lantern-boy -presumably Marcus– quickly produced a box of long matchsticks, almost tripping over himself in his haste to light more lanterns around the room. By the time he was done the room was brightly lit, the glow from each lamp bouncing off the metal pipes until it filled every corner.

The third man did not look especially Notalevealean, with skin almost as white as Virgil’s and pale white blond hair. He was dressed plainly, with pale grey robes and soft shoes, and carried only a thin walking stick. If he hadn’t spoken, he could have quite easily faded into the background - camouflaged against the dull back drop of pipes.

“Nicholas. Marcus. Go and guard the passages.”

“But we already have a dozen men out there-“

“And I’m sure they’re in need of leadership. Go now.”

The two men glanced at each other. Roman thought for a moment that they would stand their ground, but then Marcus snatched up his original lantern and headed for the door, Niki following after one last reluctant glance back.

“W-wait.” Roman called. “Is my Father alive?”

They disappeared into the gloom of the next room.

Left alone with only the quiet grey man, Roman found himself wishing they’d stayed.

The grey man smiled at him as he shuffled towards the kneeling prince. His smile was an awful thing that did not touch his eyes.

“The young Marquis de Orenlla is a rather silly boy.” He told Roman in his soft papery voice. “Much like yourself.”

Despite himself Roman let out an offended squeak, but the grey man continued unhindered. “He has very little idea how to survive alone, can barely function without his servants.”

Roman caught himself staring at the floor and snapped his gaze back to the grey man’s face. He didn’t want to miss any information he might let slip but looking at him was-

It was difficult.

When he tried to look at the details of his face they seemed to slip away. Was he young or old? What colour were his eyes?

The whole time he had been talking, had his mouth actually moved?

“What are you?” Roman whispered.

The grey man smiled again, Roman shuddered.

“But also like you, he is not wholly stupid. He has started asking some inconvenient questions.”

Within the blink of an eye, the grey man was next to him a knife in his hand. Before Roman had a chance to do more than flinch, he had cut the ties biding his hands, and was back across the room.

Dazed, Roman rubbed his wrists, trying not to wretch.

Up close, the grey man smelt of death.

“Now. Sit there, and listen to me until I finish.”

Romulus whimpered.

“Your father is dead.” The grey man told him bluntly. “You killed him.”

“No.” Romulus- Roman shook his head. Used his newly freed hands to cover his ears. “He was sick.”

“You poisoned him over many weeks.” the grey man whispered. “Disguised it as a common sickness. You tried the same on your brother but he was too strong to succumb.”

Roman lowered his hands. They were pointless anyway- the grey man’s voice seemed to be inside his head.

“That’s not how his strength works!”

“And so instead, you allied yourself with a traitor to the fae court and placed a curse of madness on the crown prince, rendering him unable to rule. You hoped to take over in his place, but luckily your father’s advisors found you out. You were forced to flea with your fae companion.”

Roman stared at him, eyes wide. “That’s insane!”

“That’s the truth.” The grey man insisted. “When The Marquis asks you for the truth, that’s what you’ll say.”

“No.” Roman shook his head. “No, no, no.”

The grey man reached forward, resting his hand gently against Roman’s cheek. Romulus stared up into his eyes.

“Julius?” he whispered.

“In a way.” The grey man’s face seemed to twist. For a single moment, it was Julius’ face that looked disdainful down at him, rendering Romulus mute with terror. And then with another twist to reality it was gone, back to the grey man’s blank visage.

“I’ve had eyes all over looking for you Romulus. I was so sure you must have died in the mountains and yet –“ His fingers tightened on Roman’s face, nails digging cruelly into his skin. “Here you are. Like a little cockroach.”

With a shove he released Roman’s face and walked swiftly to the centre of the room, where the largest pipes rose out of the floor. “Stay on your knees and come here.” he ordered. Face burning, Roman shuffled after him, knees bruising on the stone floor.

“Put your hands here.” He gestured to one of the larger pipes. Even before his hands touched the surface, Roman could feel the heat radiating from it. It was far hotter than the one he had been tied to and although he braced himself he couldn’t hold back a yelp of pain when his hands made contact.

He snatched them back quickly, his palms an alarming shade of red. And without pausing, sprang to his feet, aiming a punch directly at the grey man’s immobile face.

“Stop moving.”

Roman felt his muscles lock, momentum sending him crashing to the ground as the grey man easily sidestepped his swing.

“Don’t move until I tell you too.” The grey man added, leaving Roman frozen on the ground where he landed.

Slowey the grey man stepped around him, crouching down by his head. “Look at me, Romulus.” Roman did so, only moving his eyes to stare at the flickering mirage of the grey man’s face.

Up close, the smell was so bad Roman felt the remains of his pastry threatening to make a reappearance.

“I am going to ask you some questions. You are going to tell me the truth. Nod if you understand.”

Slowly, Roman nodded. The grey man – Julius – whatever it was, had already told him what it wanted him to consider the truth. But even so, ‘tell the truth’ was an easy enough order to get around. Truth being in the eye of the beholder and all.

“And if you don’t, I am going to tell you to hold onto that pipe again, and I am going to tell you to keep holding it until I am satisfied with your answers. Do you understand?”

Roman swallowed. He nodded again.

“Did you kill your father? Tell the truth now.”

“No.” he said quickly and then bit his tongue, cursing. Franticly he looked up at the grey man “You, you said that was a truth for The Marquis, not for everyone I can’t just –“

“Raise your left hand.” the grey man said mildly. “Bring it here.”

Romulus felt tears of frustration and fear spring to his eyes. He was stupid for thinking he had a chance at this. Julius’ tests were never designed for him to pass.

***

Roman wasn’t sure how many hours passed before the grey man seemed satisfied.

Fortunately, he had methods of persuasion beyond just the pipe. When Romans’ left palm had become completely coated in blisters the grey man had handed him walking stick and instructed him to bring it down hard on his own back instead. And then his shoulders. The side of his face. His left palm.

The grey man never touched him himself.

He didn’t have any need to.

Whenever there was a pause between punishments he ordered Roman to stillness. Time which Roman happily spent fantasising, first of smashing the stick down across the grey man’s head, then of pressing his own eyes to the hot pipe.

Even if they took him home – he could not allow himself to lay eyes on Remus. That was the one thing he could not fail on.

“Did you kill your father?” asked the grey man.

“Yes.”

The stress of raising Romulus, of hiding the curse; there was no doubt he’d contributed to his fathers early death. It was true, at least to him.

“Did you curse your brother?”

“Yes.”

When he was a little boy there had been a phase where he tried to put a curse on Remus daily, and Remus him. The kind of curses they dreamed up were for itchy feet and stinky farts, and none of them had worked, but it was still technically true.

“Why?”

“I was jealous of my brother.”

If Roman had only been born a half hour earlier he could have avoided a lifetime of being second best. He could have avoided his curse. Grown up with his Father instead of Julius. Not that he would wish any of that on Remus but. It was natural, surely, to be a little jealous of his brothers freedom.

“Good.”

Julius’ face smiled down at him. He reached out with the grey mans hands to stroke Romulus’ hair, like he sometimes did when he was a child. “You see Romulus, there is always a way to work within the confines of your curse, so long as you are willing to look for it. I taught you that.”

“Where are you?” Romulus whispered.

“I am waiting for you.” he smiled. “I have no sons Romulus, no one to pass the Stewardship to. And we must think about the future of our kingdom. When you are back, we can write a new story.”

“You…you’re ruler?”

Romulus frowned. There was a missing piece here but he couldn’t find it. The heat and pain were making his brain slosh against the inside of his skull. He found himself leaning in to the hand in his hair, even as revulsion rippled through him. “If you’re ruler then where’s –“

“Where’s the serpent?”

Roman blinked. Looking up, he found that Julius was gone again, the grey mans expressionless face staring back at him.

“What?”

“The serpent. Where is he?”

“I don’t – I don’t know what you mean.” Romulus held his injured arm close to his chest, curling over it protectively.

He heard the disappointed sigh and flinched even before the grey man brought his other hand to Romans’ bruised shoulder, squeezing hard.

“Look at me.”

Romulus did, eyes bright.

“I know he has left his prison. I know he was with you at that inn. I sent that stupid boy to get him and he found you.”

“I don’t know what you mean!” Romulus wailed, hating the childish wobble in his voice. “There wasn’t anyone else at the inn.”

“No?”

Julius eyes were peering out of the grey man again, a cruel glint to them. ”You were alone?”

“Yes.” Roman told him. Voice steady.

He’d entered the inn alone. He’d sat in the room alone. Climbed out of the window alone. Anything else was none of Julius’ business.

Before the grey man could speak again, a clatter from the next room made them both jump.

“Hmph. He’s early.” the grey man murmured. “Get back to your place.” He gestured to the pipe Roman had originally been tied to and, haltingly, Roman crawled towards it, sprawling at the base.

“If The Marquis asks, tell him nothing about your injuries.” the grey man added lazily, taking up his position in the centre of the room, fading back into the background.

Roman grunted. It wasn’t a bad plan: his most visible injuries – the burns on his hand which he couldn’t stand to look at – could be explained away as being caused by the very pipe Lucius had tied him to. As usual, nothing could ever be pinned on Julius.

They waited. But neither the Marquis or his men appeared.

The grey man stood across from him, gazing out into the darkness of the next room. Roman wasn’t even worth looking at.

He slumped further against the pipe and tried to focus on breathing. There wasn’t a single place on his body that didn’t hurt, though the worst by far was his hand. He shivered from cold, which, given the heat of the room, couldn’t be a good sign. He let his eyes slip closed. Exhaustion threatening to take him again.

And then he felt a soft pressure on his lap.

“Mrrp.”

Roman opened his eyes. Then he closed them again.

He opened one eye. It was still there.

“Mister Mittens?” he asked, slightly hysterically.

Romulus and Remus had grown up with dogs. He wasn’t sure if cats were supposed to be able to feel smugness, but this once clearly did. It butted it’s head against Roman’s chin with another self-satisfied “Mrrp.”

“What?“ The grey man was staring at the pair of them, looking as confused as his expressionless face could manage. “Where did that thing come from?”

Roman was saved from having to answer by a crossbow bolt. One that came through the open door, burying itself in the grey man’s skull.

Chapter 7

Extra warnings

Consent stuff – Roman relives a memory of being sexually assaulted (he doesn’t necessarily think of it in those terms). A drunk man kisses him and pushes him against a wall. The man tells Roman to ‘kiss me’ without knowing anything about Romans curse. They are interrupted before it goes beyond kissing. (whether anything else would have happened, or whether the man would have stopped if he had known about the curse, is not shown in the text). It is implied that this sort of situation has happened to Roman before, and that it has gone further, but this is not explicit.

Violence stuff – Roman is tortured in this chapter. This includes cutting, burning and beating with a stick. The majority of this is not described in explicit detail but it’s certainly going on. Due to the nature of his curse, most of this takes place due to another character ordering him to hurt himself. Roman briefly contemplates burning his own eyes (for ‘trying to get around my curse’ reasons rather than ‘self harm’ reasons) . Someone also gets shot in the head with a crossbow. Roman also spends most of this chapter dehydrated and suffering from heat stroke .

I’m not totally sure what this falls under but its grim stuff – a character from romans past spends a lot of this chapter tyring to gas light him/ manipulate him into believing a set of false memories. Roman retains his correct memories but gets hurt a lot in the process. Meeting said character causes Roman to dissociate (I think this is the correct term but please correct me if I’m wrong), he continuously switches between his name and his childhood name during the chapter and at some points reacts as if he was a child.

#ts roman #roman sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #creativitwins #sidespart writes

123 notes · View notes

kyoomiii · 4 years

Text

♡ Sick days [hcs]

- ✎ characters ❝ kageyama, ushijima, kenma and tsukishima ❞

- [ trigger warning(s): none other than maybe one curse word ]

- ⚘ genre ❝ fluff ❞

❝ in light of the current situation i hope everyone is staying safe and healthy. we can get through these tough times together. (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و ❞

-kyo ♡

Kageyama knows something is wrong the moment he wakes up that morning, the irritating tickle in the back of his throat and the sudden heat that engulfs his body confirms his suspicions, but even so he refuses to let it bother him, pushing even the thought of being sick to the back of his mind as he departs for school.

Though unfortunately, the day passes agonizingly slow for him, and by the time it finally ends he had managed to fall asleep in almost every single one of his classes prompting multiple scoldings from varying teachers which only heightened his pounding headache.

Even so, he brushes it off with mild annoyance as he changes out of his school uniform and into his practice attire, a small pit of dread forming in his already aching stomach knowing you’d be there waiting for him, and that you’d definitely notice his odd behavior.

As he enters the gym, the familiar squeaking of shoes almost sets his mind at ease, a trickle of relief flowing through him as he basks in the success of hiding his condition and that surprisingly, you were nowhere to be found. However, the moment is short-lived once he spots Hinata, who squints in his direction as if he had grown three heads.

“What are you staring at boke.”

“Nothing… I guess you just seem a bit- weird today.”

“It’s fine- I’m fine! Let’s just practice already!”

But throughout the entire practice, his vision only seems to get hazier, and his head only seems to hurt more as his tosses become less and less consistent, resulting in snickers from Tsukishima, and more shouts from Hinata, until eventually he just collapses in a pile of sweat, an overwhelming ache shooting throughout his bones, and at this point he no longer cares about the current activity, all he wants is you.

“Crap- Kageyama! Someone get y/n”

And much to his relief, you come in rushing soon after his collapse, Sugawara having moved him into a slightly more comfortable position prior to your arrival.

“y/n…”

“I’m here Tobio… You’re gonna be alright, your sister is here to take you home.”

It was almost scary how lifeless he seemed. Slumped in between Sugawara and Daichi, barely conscious as you run your fingers through his damp hair. The club is visibly startled as it takes a total of all the third years and Tanaka to haul the setter into his sister’s car as a result of his protest.

“No... Want y/n…”

The little whine that leaves him has you flushed, cheeks burning red as you simply nod, scooting into the backseat with him as he deliriously snuggles close to you, a violent shiver running throughout his body despite his unbelievably hot temperature.

The ride back to Kageyama’s house is relatively silent with the exception of the occasional groan or whimper from him. A wave of worry floods through you as you help his sister move him into his bed.

“I’m really sorry y/n, I have to get back to the shop, so can you please do me a favor and watch Tobio for a few hours?”

“I-Uh- Yeah.”

And like that it’s just you and Kageyama, who looks just as bad, if not worse than before the car ride. He’s shivering like a leaf as he curls closely into the blankets, face contorted into displeasure.

“Tobio…”

With a gentle caress to his sickly pale skin, you stand up to leave, a feeling of guilt swelling in your heart at the thought of leaving Kageyama alone, even if it were just a little bit of time as you quickly return with a damp towel to press to his drenched forehead.

He looks almost too peaceful as he relaxes into your touch, the cloth that’s pressed against his skin easing his discomfort all the more. His eyes flutter open, squinting to look up at you.

“I’m okay y/n.. I’m not sick.”

You’re almost in disbelief, and you would smack him for being so reckless if he weren’t so ill.

“You are. Why would you lie about that?（￣□￣；)”

But the gentle grin that stretches across his face disposes of any harsh feelings you may have for his lack of thought in regards to consequences.

“Thank you for taking care of me y/n…”

“Of course Tobio… Now get some rest… Boke.”

It had hit him like a brick. One moment he was fine, sitting in the corner of the gym before practice began, game in hand as some of the members shuffled about setting up the net, and the next he’s suddenly feeling a sort of dizziness in the back of his head.

It was all too familiar, the dizziness followed by an instant ache in his body as he slumps against the wall, eyes darting across the gym in fear of being noticed.

His game is slowly forgotten, as he dies repeatedly, unable to truly concentrate on the task at hand, due to the level of discomfort brought by the heat of his hoodie, but the almost painfully aching shivers that plague his small form convince him to keep it on.

He wishes you were here as he begrudgingly stuffs his game back into his backpack, unable to continue staring at the pixelated screen that has slowly but surely made him more dizzy than he was feeling moments ago. However, the thought of bothering you sets a pit of guilt at the bottom of his stomach, so he stays silent, suffering quietly as the other boys draw closer to finishing setting up.

In less than three minutes, Kenma manages to fall asleep, legs hugged closely to his chest as he tries to make himself as small as possible in the confinements of his clothing. The gentle tap against his shoulder wakes him up. Kuroo looking over him worriedly, his usual smirk replaced with a frown.

“I’m calling y/n-”

“Please don’t…”

“Not an option.”

Kenma doesn’t have the energy to protest, his already low levels dropping even lower as he drifts between being conscious and unconscious.

He doesn’t even realize you’re there until the familiar comfort of your touch lingers on his burning hot skin. The warmth makes you recoil in shock, much to his noticeable dismay. He looks so small and vulnerable as Kuroo helps you haul him home.

“Please take care of him y/n…”

And upon Kuroo’s departure back to school to finish the remaining practice, it’s just you and Kenma, who in this current moment has decided to burrito himself in his covers, the little lump that he’s created shivering harshly.

The sight makes you frown as you gently run your fingers over the fabric that he is using to shield himself. You had heard that Kenma would often get fevers after exerting himself when he was young, but everyone, including him had thought he had grown out of that phase. With a sigh, you stand from your spot at the edge of his bed, sending one last glance back before making your way to the kitchen to prepare something that would be easy to eat in his condition.

As you stir the pot of rice porridge which seemed to be the easiest and quickest option, a small thump resonates throughout the relatively quiet house. A surge of worry filled you as you hurriedly set the stove to low, rushing to see what had caused the commotion.

To your surprise Kenma lays in the middle of the hallway, his blankets still wrapped snugly around him as he wiggles his way into the living room. The image would be cute if said boy wasn’t currently suffering from a fever.

“Kenma? What are you doing out of bed?”

His response is so quiet, so delicate as you help him onto the couch.

“Missed you...:”

A soft smile graces your lips as you place a chaste kiss to his burning forehead.

“I missed you too. Let’s get some food and medicine in you and we can go to sleep yeah?”

“...Okay…”

The lull of silence passes between the two of you as you return to the pot in the kitchen, you were sure that Kenma had fallen back asleep…

“I love you y/n…”

“I love you too Kenma”

Morning practice was something that Ushijima never missed out on. He was always there bright and early, dressed and ready before anyone else, including Tendou, who despite sharing the same dorm with, refused to get up at the butt-crack of dawn like his odd roommate. So when the rest of the team gathers, with Ushijima nowhere in sight, there’s a certain uneasiness that settles amongst the Shiratorizawa volleyball club.

“Where’s Ushijima-san… He’s never this late.”

“No idea-”

“Don’t you share a room with him Tendou-san…?”

“...Who told you that? ｢(ﾟﾍﾟ)”

“You did? (´_ ` ﾒ)”

Your mind zones out of the conversation, stuck on a certain ace who was more dedicated to this sport than anyone you had ever met, something you had learned to love about him. The fact that he wouldn’t show up like this was just-strange…

“You guys get started, i’ll go find him.”

“Okay here’s a key~ But if anything-”

“Tendou Satori!”

And with your cheeks flushed red, prominent glare on your face you head off to the boy’s dormitory, ignoring the glances of curiosity as you practically stomp your way through the halls.

Softly you knock on Tendou and Ushijima’s dorm room, only to receive silence. There’s a slight hesitancy to your actions as you slowly unlock the door.

“Toshi?”

You call once more only to be met with the soft breathing of an unconscious Ushijima. The sight is something that is truly a shock, Ushijima Wakatoshi NEVER missed practice because he slept in.

There’s a feeling of worry that settles in your chest as you approach him. Kneeling down you run a hand through his dark brown hair, the heat radiating from his skin causing a frown to form on your features. Gently, you shake his shoulder, calling his name once more.

“Wakatoshi?”

And like sleeping beauty, his eyes flutter open revealing deep pools of dark olive. His mind is a haze, eyes bleary as he looks up at you, and it’s then you notice the gentle flush of pink that tints the tip of his nose and both his cheeks.

“y/n…?”

His voice is hoarse, throat scratched dry, most likely from a coughing fit as he gazes at you confused.

Your frown deepens as he attempts to sit up, visibly wincing before he eventually gives up, body going limp as he lands back on the mattress with a slight huff.

“It’s okay Toshi, just relax today, I’ll take care of you.”

To anyone else Ushijima remains stoic, however, knowing him as well as you do, you catch the slight upturn of his lips, and the small shift of emotion in his eyes as you press a soft kiss to his forehead.

A sigh leaves you as his eyes flutter shut once more, your lips purse as you call the main office notifying them of Ushijima and your absence, followed by calling Tendou who doesn’t believe a word you’re saying, but nevertheless delivers the message to the rest of the team, and lastly a call to a restaurant for some soup that would be easy on his stomach.

As soon as you finish all your calls, your attention is turned back to Ushijima. His face is scrunched in slight discomfort as he grips tightly at the blanket covering his body, and it’s then you catch the slight shiver the ripples through him.

Ushijima is a man of muscle, his body runs warm like a furnace, but in this moment he can’t help but feel unbelievably cold, despite the burning heat of his skin. So silently, as you take off your blazer and bow tie, folding it neatly and placing it on his desk, you crawl into his bed beside him, holding him close.

He stops shivering, cuddling closely to your body.

“...S’warm...”

“Don’t worry- I’m here.”

And you swear you could see the faintest smile ghost his lips as he settles in to your touch, basking in the much needed heat.

“Thank you y/n...”

Tsukishima could feel the oncoming sickness brewing in his system a day before it decided to smack him in the face. He’s not exactly surprised either, there’s always been this schedule since he was young which consisted of him being perfectly fine and healthy most of the year, and then dying for about a week somewhere in the winter months.

And after years of experiencing the same cycle, he’s become somewhat prepared to deal with whatever may come. Unfortunately though, he was not prepared when the flu decided to make its appearance as soon as his parents and Akiteru were out of town, leaving him to suffer alone.

With that being said, he wakes up one morning, feeling like absolute crap. His throat feels raw and scratchy, his body aches so badly that it just hurts to move, and his head is pounding so hard that he’s sure his brain has become mush.

He barely finds the strength to text you and Yamaguchi that he doesn’t feel very good, and then to his parents who unfortunately won't be back for a little while longer..

Immediately, the text has you worrying, Tsukishima NEVER missed school, and the fact that he decided to skip today meant that he was most likely really sick, and to top it off he was alone, with no one to check up on him, the thought alone put you in a state of mild anxiety.

As a result you spend most of the day with your thoughts scrambled, unable to focus as your mind constantly drifts back to Tsukishima, who has not texted you since that morning.

You’re so anxious to see him that as soon as the last bell rings you practically rush to his house, using the spare key he had lent you in case of an emergency.

Your steps are hurried as you enter the house, placing all of your stuff off to the side, then quietly making your way to Tsukishima’s room only to find him knocked out cold, sprawled on his bed cuddling close to a dinosaur comforter (something his mom got him when he was five, but doesn’t use unless he’s in need of real comfort).

The sight makes you smile softly as you set foot into the room, padding softly across the floor as to not wake him. His blonde hair is tousled and messy, some strands sticking to his sweat drenched forehead. Strewn across his bed is an assortment of empty water bottles, and beside his bed sits an empty teacup.

It’s then the realization strikes you that he probably hasn’t had anything to eat since the day before, the thought making you frown as you brush the stray hairs from his forehead, a kiss being placed against the burning skin instead.

Upon making your way into the kitchen, you begin to make a simple soup, something that would be easy on his stomach, but would still taste okay to eat. You don’t even notice Tsukishima opening the door to his room waddling out, bundled in his dinosaur comforter until a small thump can be heard from the couch.

Once you finish the soup, you scoop up a small bowl before walking over to Tsukishima who lays on the couch staring blankly at the wall, he can’t seem to find the energy to make an snide comments, rather he’s just kind of grumpy and quiet mentally cursing life.

“Kei, I made you soup.”

“M’ don’t wanna eat… I’m too tired.”

“If you don’t eat you’re not going to get any better…”

He groans as you help him sit up, making sure to keep the blanket around him so he’d be at least a little more comfortable. When you get him settled you place the bowl in his hands, watching as his eyes squint at it.

“Something wrong?”

“...”

“Oh my god Kei, stop acting like a baby I didn’t poison it. (；¬＿¬)”

“I don’t know that. ρ(￣ﾍ￣ﾒ)”

It takes a minute for him to finish, but once he does he’s immediately curled up on the couch behind you, back facing you as you opt to begin today’s homework.

The room falls quiet for a moment, until the sound of shuffling fills the air, next thing you know Tsukishim has joined you on the floor, slithering his way into your lap until his head is resting on your thighs.

“Wow, who knew you could be so soft Kei.”

“- Shut up.................... Thank you for- everything. ( ˵¯͒＿¯͒˵)”

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dontmindmyshadowhunting · 3 years

Text

Meet Drusilla Blackthorn (fan fic)

This is Chap 3 of “Welcome to Faerieland”, a sequel to my Kitty Fan Fic "To never being parted" although it can be read as a standalone story.

I am introducing Dru & Jaime in this Chapter.

And of course, Kit & Ty are being as gooey as ever.

AO3 Link here.

*****

“Look at you trying to flee from the crime scene.”

Jaime startled and his hand froze on the doorknob. He whirled to face Dru, who was watching him with a glitter of amusement in her Blackthorn blue-green eyes. She was lying on her side, arm angled upwards, head on hand. Her large black shirt hugged her soft curves and barely covered her thighs, revealing a criminally vast expanse of her smooth milky skin. A message was printed at the level of her chest. Shadowhunters: Looking Better in Black Than the Widows of our Enemies Since 1234. Apparently, it had been a gift from Jace. Her long dark brown hair was pulled in a braid, crossing over one of her shoulders. He knew from staring at her beautiful face while she was sleeping or otherwise unaware, that tiny freckles sprinkled her rosy cheeks, that her long dark eyelashes - not unlike her brothers’ - followed a perfect curve as if she was constantly wearing mascara and that the luscious red of her full lips deepened when she bit them. As she was doing right now. He gulped and hoped with everything he had that she couldn’t hear the loud thump thump of his frantic heart.

“I am not-”

“Relaaax. You look like you just hid a corpse in the cupboard and are trying to make a run for it.”

How could she not understand? When he had met her three years ago, he had thought she was cute, sweet, funny, dependable and - admittedly - already a badass. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it had occurred but, over time, sincere friendship had turned into deep affection and deep affection had somehow turned into lust and… love? In any case, there definitely was lust. He fought the urge to cross himself reflexively.

She had never looked her age, and that hadn’t changed with the years. She had entirely grown out of her baby fat, her features sharpening and her limbs lengthening, but she still had a voluptuous figure. She looked like a sexy grown woman, and certainly not like a sixteen-year-old girl. But she was, he reminded himself.

Even if the mundane statutory rape laws dit not apply to Shadowhunters, he still felt like he was breaking some kind of unspoken rule, thirsting after a sixteen-year-old. It didn’t help that the package came with an army of very scary brothers. The villains from Dru’s favorite horror movies had nothing on them. The thought of Julian Blackthorn alone discovering the truth was enough to keep him up at night.

“You know what it will look like if I bump into one of your brothers. If they find out I have spent the whole night here…”

“So? Nothing actually happened. And you did nothing wrong except fall asleep in front of “Old Boy”...”

“Dru- I am serious…”

“So am I! This movie is awesome! What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Dru…”

Dru sighed and moved to a sitting position against the headboard, knees up, arms encircling her legs. Jaime tried not to stare as her shirt lifted higher over her thighs.

“Jaime. You know what your problem is? You still haven’t gotten into your head that it’s not my brothers you should be afraid of. The Blackthorn women are much scarier.”

“I can believe that…” Jaime muttered under his breath.

“Anyway, don’t worry about them, they’re probably going to sleep in since they’ve been very busy last night. Mark with Cristina, Julian with Emma, and Ty with… Kit.”

Jaime’s eyes widened.

“You think Ty and Kit…?”

Dru lifted both her dark eyebrows at him. “Are you seriously asking me to confirm or elaborate on my brother’s sex life?”

“No, no, of course not…” Jaime felt heat rushing to his cheeks. Why did everyone get to have sex but him? Maybe because you've been pining for a sixteen-year-old for months now, he reminded himself for the thousandth time. He wanted to punch himself.

“Just kidding, Jaime. Look at you blushing… Wait- I hope you don’t have a problem with my brother being with… a guy?”

She suddenly leaned forward, her gaze piercing.

Jaime knew how fiercely protective of her siblings Dru was. She had quite a reputation at the Shadowhunter Academy, as someone not to be messed with or rubbed the wrong way. She had somehow found a way to acquire knowledge on people and discover their most dirty secrets. She had no qualms using the intelligence when it came to protecting her family or the Blackthorns’ reputation. Although she did not hesitate to break a few arms and ribs to prove her point, most of the time, she operated in a more subtle way. With finesse, one could say.

A Shadowhunter student who had had the ill-conceived idea of calling Mark Blackthorn “the Unseelie King’s sex toy” was living proof of that. Jaime had not heard the full details of the story but it apparently involved a wide collection of dildos, very enthusiastic piskies, and had earned the boy several nicknames that he would probably never part from.

Judging by the look on Dru’s face now, Jaime’s life was hanging by the thread of his answer. She didn’t need to worry.

“No! Hey! What the hell? Of course not! You know me, right?”

She relaxed, leaning casually against the headboard, her arms crossed behind her head.

“Not as much as I would like to...” she replied, with a wink. “But yeah, I guess so.” A wicked grin split across her face.

Forgive me, Father, for I am this close to becoming a sinner, Jaime thought as he hurriedly escaped from the room.

****

Kit grabbed Ty by the arm just as he was slipping out of bed.

“Not so fast, Centurion.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“Are you trying to sneak out? You got what you came for and now you’re tossing me like an unpaired sock? I am wounded.”

Ty just stared at him.

Hmmm. Maybe too early for humour.

“I don’t think I’ve had my fill yet, that’s all…” Kit clarified, as he stretched like a cat. Or a lion. Definitely like a lion.

Both Ty’s V shaped eyebrows rose.

“I thought… You said you needed your rest.”

“Ty, I was not talking about that, however tempting. There are other things in life than sex.”

“Is that a fact?” Ty asked playfully, a corner of his mouth lifting. Okay. Virgin Mary turned into the God of Sex overnight. How the hell did that happen?

“I want a cuddle.” Kit pouted as he snuggled up against Ty and encircled him with his arms.

Ty surrendered to his embrace, falling back on the bed. Kit rolled on top of him and pinned his arms above his head. He started alternating between brushing and pressing his lips over Ty’s face, tracing his beautiful features from memory, with his eyes closed.

“I… have… some… errands...to… run… Mysteries… to… uncover,” Ty gasped between feathery kisses.

“I am a mystery.” Kit nibbled Ty’s earlobe, before whispering in his ear. “Uncover me.”

“You are naked,” Ty rightfully observed, though his voice was quavering and his breaths short.

“I am. But have you explored every avenue?”

“Fair point, Watson,” Ty said in a husky voice, before swallowing hard.

“That’s what I am here for, Sherlock,” Kit replied. He kissed Ty’s eyelids, his nose, and started exploring Ty’s mouth with his tongue.

They rubbed against each other, their limbs entangled, as the kiss grew deeper, hungrier, until both had to draw back to catch their breath.

“I love you,” Kit blurted.

“I love you too,” Ty replied softly, staring at Kit with his gray eyes half closed. He looked dizzy.

“I love you more,” Kit retaliated.

“How could you ever verify that?” Ty asked, his eyes widening with a look of genuine surprise.

“Easy. I just know that no one in the history of the universe could have ever loved anyone the way I love you.”

Ty looked - if possible - even more puzzled.

“I know it because my soul belongs with yours, Ty. If there are other worlds out there where I exist and you don’t, I don’t ever want to meet myself there. For what kind of empty shell - or monster - would I be if I hadn’t met you?”

They both startled as they heard a knock on the door.

“I am not decent!” Kit answered, as he reached hurriedly for a blanket to cover Ty’s body.

“This has never bothered you before,” Jace ‘s voice replied through the door. “Does this mean you are not the only one who’s not presentable in there? I just came across Mark running around naked in the corridors and I am pretty sure I have seen enough Blackthorns’ buttocks for the rest of the day.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kit answered, his voice muffled under the blanket covering both his and Ty’s bodies completely, like two kids curled up under a makeshift tent. Ty was shaking with silent laughter.

“Sure you don’t,” Jace answered, but Kit could hear his footsteps receding.

33 notes · View notes

getousugurudick · 3 years

Text

my ass literally did not edit this so if its typo city my fault g....also they r not a couple yet in this fic hehehe

“That’s my pen,” you murmur, reaching across the table to nudge Peter’s hand.

“Oh, yeah, right…” he grins, looking up from his textbook with the pen still stuck between his teeth. “Let me keep it, since it’s got my spidey DNA all over it.”

“It’s my favorite pen,” you whisper back.

“Take it then.” He licks the pen cap before trying to shove it into your hand, which you quickly draw back out of his reach.

“You're gross.” Peter laughs at the wrinkle of your nose. He tilts his head to the side, “Since when are you such a germaphobe?”

You lean forward, resting your folded arms on the table. “Since right now.”

He purses his lips in disbelief, brown eyes narrowing. “Are you scared of spiders, Y/N? You can tell me, I won’t be offended. Promise.”

“Can I ask you something? If I were to say, like ingest some of your DNA or something, would I…would I catch what you’ve got?”

“Catch? Jesus," he frowns, "you make it sound like an illness.”

You try to hide your smile, but it tugs on the corners of your mouth anyways. “Well? Would I?”

Peter grins back at you then, mimicking the way you’re leaning on the table. He motions for you to lean closer with his finger, and you do, craning your neck out so that he can whisper his answer into your ear. Peter cups his hands and whispers, “Why don’t you kiss me and find out?”

“Fuck you,” you laugh, shaking your head. “I’ll pass."

“Damn,” he sits back in his chair, swiping a hand across his face dramatically. “Is it because I chewed on your pen? Is that what it was? Fuck…” Peter sends his gaze up and around the library in a look of mock disbelief. He sighs through his nose, his adam’s apple bobs with a hard swallow. He shakes his head gently, “I’m sorry, I never should have done that…it…it was a line I crossed.” You can see his facade slowly beginning to crack as he fights the smile that threatens to warm his face and crinkle his eyes.

“Oh, yeah?”

“I didn’t want to offend you,” you say with mock sympathy, “you know…spiders are your kin and all and…well, I’d hate to talk bad about your family in front of you, Pete.” You’re grinning now as you whisper to him from across the table, though there really isn’t any point. It seems to just be the two of you in the library, with the exception of the two other people you’d spotted walking around and the librarian you’d seen when the two of you walked in together. “You know…I love you and I wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings or speak out of turn…people are sensitive about their families and I know how you can get.”

Surprised, he laughs, “Oh? And how do I get?”

“You don’t know?”

“No, please…please enlighten me, Y/N.”

“Well…” you sigh, “You’re a sensitive guy.”

“Am I?”

“Don't be ashamed You always have been, I can see it, you’re a softie.” “Is that what you think?”

“It’s what I know.”

“Of course. Duh. Continue.”

“And because of that…your soft nature, I mean, I don’t think you would be able to handle the harsh truth about your bug kin.”

He lifts one heavy brow, “That truth being…”

“That truth being that they’re scary and gross.”

“You think I’m gross?”

“I do think you’re gross.”

Peter narrows his eyes, his mouth curled into a fond smile, “Are you afraid of me, Y/N?”

You don’t mean to, but you soften, tilting your head when you look at him, “I could never be scared of you Peter.”

Peter’s mouth opens, and snaps shut at the sound of your name coming from an unknown mouth.

“Hey, Will,” you smile, turning your body away from Peter to better address this guy, this intruder.

Will grins back at you, widely. He seems too happy to be there. Peter fights the urge to grimace.

“What are you guys up to?”

“Oh, Peter’s helping me with some mathematical shit, he’s a genius when it comes to all this stuff. I don’t know shit.”

“Don’t say that,” Peter says disapprovingly, but it doesn’t matter. Will speaks over him as if he hadn’t said anything at all.

“That’s cool, I was gonna try to start the essay for Langdon’s class. Have you started yet?”

Peter doesn’t know what to do as this conversation goes on, he can’t get up and leave because that would be weird, but he doesn’t want to chime in. He just wants it to end. He wants Will to leave the table and leave you alone and sit far away. He wants it to be you and him again. It’s selfish, but he took these moments he had with you very seriously. Between school and his Spiderman obligations, he feels like he never sees you as much as he wants to. Whether you know it or not, you're high on his lists of priorities.

“Well, if you need help…you have my number,” Will says with an inauthentically sheepish shrug of one shoulder that almost makes Peter gag.

“Yeah,” you nod. “For sure, and same to you, if you need someone to proofread your paper or something I could do that.”

“Cool,” Will nods. He glances over at Peter, who gives him a half-assed smile that makes Will realize he's been standing there for much too long. “Well, I’ll leave you guys to it. Good luck. Bye, Y/N…Peter.”

“Yeah. Bye, Will,” Peter waves him off. “Jesus,” he mutters once Will is far enough away.

“What?” You ask, though you already know what.

Peter’s nose wrinkles, “That guy can really just blah, blah, blah, huh?" "Mind blowing how much he can talk, actually…People just don’t know when a conversation is over. Like, just stop talking already. If he wanted you to read his paper he could’ve just started there, the conversation would’ve ended a lot quicker…I think he likes you.”

“I think he does too,” you agree, failing to fight back a smile. Peter doesn’t know that the smile is for him, not for Will.

He pauses before asking, “Do you like him?”

“Maybe,” you shrug. “He does talk a lot.”

“You don’t like that?”

“I don’t know,” you laugh. “It’s charming sometimes. In certain people.”

“In Will?”

“I don’t know, Peter. I can’t tell…What do you think of him? Other than that he talks too much.”

He sits back in his chair dramatically and shrugs, his palms facing the ceiling, “Oh God, where do I even begin?” The sound of your laugh makes him smile. Peter is always himself when you’re around, but sometimes he does a little extra. He is Peter, but at 120% because he knows that sometimes the extra dramatics make you smile, they make you laugh, he does the extra because he knows he makes you happy.

“Go on,” you urge.

“No, no,” he chuckles. “I won’t let my opinion of him color your opinion of him. Isn’t that big of me?”

“Very mature of you, I think.”

Peter nods before clapping his hands together, “Okay. Let’s get back to studying, young lady. No more distractions.”

“Yes, sir.”

Barely twenty seconds of silence pass before--

“He was dressed badly and I didn’t like his hair,” Peter spits out quickly, so fast that it’s almost one word. “Okay, okay, that’s all I’ll say.”

“For right now?” “For right now,” he smiles, laughing at the fact that you already knew. You already knew there was more…there was always more.

Finally, when he decides to be quiet (“I’m serious, study time, for realzies.”) and you send your gaze down to your notes and textbook, Peter gets a spare moment to look at you the way he wants to. Did you know that when you come across something you don’t understand your eyebrows furrow the same way every time, and that your lips part as if you're about to speak? Then they close again and he can see your eyes rereading the same line over and over and over. Sometimes you even mouth the words, very subtly, but he can see it. From time to time he'll watch you struggle, only for a few minutes, mostly because you like to figure things out on your own--but also because he thinks your cute when you're concentrating really hard. He knows that you hate asking for help, so instead of making you ask (even though that’s the whole reason he’s here, to help you) he’ll ask you instead.

“Are you stuck?” and when you say yes, he’ll lean across the table and ask you “Which problem?” and then, he’ll proceed to patiently walk you through, step by step. He wonders if you know how much he loves that he gets to help you. How much he loves that you let him, and how much he loves being the one to teach you new things. Do you know all of that? Do you also know how much he adores you?

Quietly, across the table you wonder about similar things. Does he know how much you love listening to him ramble on and on about math, about life, about the things he doesn’t like about a boy who might like you and who you might (but don’t) like back? Does he know you love how smart he is, how kind he is? Does he know that he is the only person you want help from? Does he know that you wish you could spend all of your time with him? Does he know how happy he makes you?

By the end of your study session he is seated directly beside you, though instead of helping you with your math homework, he is doodling a picture of a little spider in your notebook, beside which he signs his name with a little heart (“don’t be scared of me xoxo, petey”). Your head rests gently on his shoulder, watching him scribble in his little spider, accompanied by a few webs.

“Who needs all of this science and math shit when you’ve got art, Peter?”

“You know, no one has ever really complimented my art talents…but now that you say that I think I might have to change my major.”

You lean forward to look at the drawing a little closer, a warmth blooming in your chest when you see the little message accompanying it. “I thought you didn’t like it when I called you Petey,” you say resting your head against his shoulder again your hand curling around the curve of his bicep.

“I guess it uhm…it grew on me.”

“You wanna go get some pizza?” You tilt your head up to rest your chin on his shoulder now, your face close to his. “Unless you're doing Spiderman stuff tonight, I’d hate to keep you from swinging on buildings…or whatever it is you do.”

“Whatever it is I do?” he scoffs. “I save the city from bad guys like every night. What do you do? Probably sleep, and do homework, I don’t know.” He turns his head, just slightly, so he can meet your warm gaze. You smile, and so does he. You swear you see his cheeks grow just a little pinker than usual, but maybe it’s just the light. Maybe it’s just your imagination. He swallows hard before asking, “You wanna go for a swing tonight?”

“A swing?”

“Yeah, I’ll swing you around...with the webs and stuff. I can show you a little bit of ‘whatever it is’ I do,” his voice is soft in your ears. "Only if you want," he adds quickly.

You laugh and whisper, “What if you drop me?”

“I won’t,” he promises. The look in his eyes tells you he means it.

On your way out he offers to carry your bag, he always does. And you decline, you always do. As you step out into the warm night air, you link your arm through his. He doesn’t look at you, but you can tell that he’s grinning. His eyes are crinkled at the corners.

“You know,” you sigh, “earlier I told you I loved you.”

“Did you?”

“I did.”

He shoves his free hand into his pocket, “I know.”

“I meant it.”

“I know that too,” he replies, still refusing to meet your gaze. Instead he looks down at his Nikes. He kicks his feet out as he walks, an attempt to expel some extra energy to keep himself from running down the street with the joy that now bubbles out of every part of him. Peter’s smiling uncontrollably, grinning so hard that it hurts his cheeks. He knows you’re smiling too, he can hear it in your voice. “I love you too, if that’s what you’re trying to get me to say.”

“Say it back to me quicker next time.”

He laughs, it’s so light and giddy that you might even call it a giggle. He nods and finally looks over at you, “I will.”

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seanfalco · 4 years

Note

Could I request a Nathan X Fem reader -angry sex one shot: Reader makes Nathan angry (I know it is more likely to be the opposite way round, but hey I want to see what a Angry Nathan would be like).

word count: 1.4k a/n: oooo, you’re right, I usually write reader getting annoyed at Nathan, so this was interesting to explore.

It was late when you stumbled through the door of your flat, fumbling with your key in the lock as your head spun slightly and you winced. Band practice had gone late and you were still feeling the tail end of the effects of the joint you’d shared with your bandmates, plus the throbbing of your head.

Kicking off your shoes in the dark and dropping your bag by the door, you headed for the kitchen, shedding your jacket on the way and letting it fall to the floor. Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge you shut the door and nearly jumped out of your skin when you found Nathan leaning in the doorway.

“Jesus, Nathan,” you gasped, clutching at your chest as you opened your water to take a long swig. Once you gathered your composure, you let your gaze slide down his bare chest, a grin tugging at your lips. “I’m glad you’re still awake,” you purred seductively, stepping closer and wrapping your arms around him.

A slight frown creased his brow as he pulled you closer, but made no move to kiss you. “Didn’t y’get my messages?” he asked and now it was your turn to frown in thought.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry, my phone died,” you exclaimed, suddenly remembering, and Nathan’s expression sagged with relief.

“Oh no, Nathan, I wasn’t ignoring you,” you assured him quickly, wondering how many times he’d texted you, somewhat surprised to find he’d been that worried -- usually nothing phased Nathan. “I swear babe,” you insisted and a hesitant grin crossed his face.

“I’m glad you’re home, cause I’m quite horny,” he mused, bending to kiss you, leading you backwards to your bedroom, sounding like his normal self again.

“Good, cause I am too,” you purred between kisses as you undressed yourself.

However, when Nathan tossed you to the bed and climbed over you, you winced as your head hit the pillow, hoping he hadn’t noticed.

“Whoa, hey [y/n], you okay?” he asked, rearing back.

“Oh, y-yeah, I’m fine,” you answered a little too quickly, trying to pull him back down to you, but Nathan’s eyes narrowed.

Reaching between you, you palmed him through his boxer briefs, hoping to distract him from the injury you’d sustained earlier and it worked, Nathan groaning, and soon he was back to kissing you roughly.

When he slipped his hand behind your head however, his fingers brushed the somewhat large, tender bump that had developed shortly after your ill planned stunt from earlier that night that left you sprawled on your back, your head making contact with one of the amps on your way down and you hissed in pain.

“Jay-sus [y/n], that’s one hell of a goose egg, th’fuck happened?” Nathan asked, pulling you up with him and you glanced away sheepishly, unable to face the worry in his eyes.

“Oh, that?” you chuckled nervously, “it’s nothing, just a little bump, is all…”

As you tried to downplay your injury Nathan’s eyes fell to your wrist and the plastic band you’d forgotten to get rid of after your friends had taken you to the emergency room.

“Wait, were you in the hospital? [y/n], the fuck? What happened?” he exclaimed and you flinched.

“It’s not that big a deal Nathan, I’m fine,” you insisted, but that seemed to only fan his anger.

“You--you had t’go to the hospital, [y/n]! That’s not fine!” he cried, “Jesus, y’gotta be more careful.”

“Oh, that’s rich comin’ from you,” you scoffed.

Nathan had a right to be upset -- the stunt you’d attempted was foolish and dangerous, but you weren’t exactly in the mood for a lecture from the guy who died at least once a week every other week.

“And what’s that supposed t’mean?” Nathan demanded, his brows drawing down deeper.

“You’re th’most reckless fucking person I know!” you exclaimed, your voice raising to meet his.

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter if somethin’ happens t’me,” Nathan cried and you frowned for a moment at his words until he added -- “I’m immortal, remember?” flinging his arms wide.

Something told you he hadn’t planned on adding that last part, and you opened your mouth to tell him it did matter, even if he couldn’t die, but your stubbornness got the better of you, a derisive snort ripping from your chest.

“Oh please, I’ve been through just as much shit and come out alright,” you snapped and Nathan’s mouth fell open as he gaped at you.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he asked, his eyes damp with frustrated tears. “That only works if I’m with you, and you know that!” he countered heatedly, clearly not finished and all you could think was you’d never seen Nathan this upset, except for when Jamie died. “An’ then y’tried to keep this from me, God you’re fuckin’ selfish--”

“Me? I’m selfish?” you exclaimed, his words taking you by surprise and for a moment you wanted to slap him.

Cutting off abruptly you pushed him away, scooting toward the edge of the bed.

“Hey! Where’re you going?” Nathan cried, grabbing your arm and forcing you to look at him, his face still a thunderhead. “You’re just gunna walk away?”

“Are y’gunna fuck me or not, Nathan? Cause I’m still horny as fuck and if you don’t plan on doin’ anything about it, then I’ll take care of it myself!” you snapped, your words clearly taking him aback.

You were angry -- at him, at yourself; you were frustrated and so fucking pent up you couldn’t think straight and you just wanted to take care of at least one of those things, and that seemed like the easiest option at the moment.

For a second you thought Nathan was gunna let you go, until he yanked you back to him, kissing you sloppily, shoving his tongue down your throat as he eased you to your back, surprisingly gentle before freeing his cock and forcing your legs apart, barely waiting before pushing into you, filling you in one thrust and pulling a gasp from your throat.

For once Nathan didn’t speak as he fucked you, a conflicted look on his face and his movements were a strange mix of tender and rough and soon you were cumming, arching your back and muffling your scream against his shoulder as he continued to pound into you before with a shudder he came as well, thrusting deeper as he filled you, collapsing atop you, completely spent.

For a moment neither of you spoke and you wondered if Nathan felt, like you, his anger and frustration leeching out of him as you lay there. Taking a shuddering breath you finally broke the silence.

“Even if you can’t die, it still matters to me if you get hurt,” you murmured, wrapping your arms around Nathan’s back, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry,” you breathed, feeling your eyes well with tears and Nathan finally stirred in your embrace, shifting to his side so he could hold you properly.

“Do y’know how much I worry about you, [y/n]?” he asked and the hitch in his voice twisted your heart. “I can’t lose you. What’s th’point of livin’ forever if you’re not with me?” he asked and that did it, sending your tears spilling over.

“I’m sorry I made you worry. I’m sorry I lied to you. I’ll be more careful, I promise,” you hiccuped and Nathan gently pulled back to wipe the tears from your cheeks.

“I’m sorry I called yeh selfish…” Nathan muttered, reluctantly fixing you with a rare solemn gaze. Slowly however, a grin twitched his lips as he pressed his forehead to yours. “That was pretty hot though, y’gotta admit,” he said, managing to get you to huff a teary laugh.

“Yeah, but let’s not do that again,” you countered wryly.

“Why’s that?” he asked.

“Because I don’t like fighting… and I’m gunna be fucking sore tomorrow,” you admitted, your face heating as Nathan’s brows rose.

“Wait, did I fuck you so hard y’won’t be able t’walk tomorrow?” he asked, a cheeky delighted expression lighting up his face.

“No,” you exclaimed, “that’s not what I said. I took a tumble, remember?” you huffed petulantly, and Nathan’s mirth quieted, though he still smiled softly as he stroked your face.

“Alright, alright. I’ll be gentle,” he said and you settled down next to him, getting comfortable.

“Hey, I love you. D’you forgive me?” you asked, twisting to look at him and he kissed your temple.

“Course, just don’t do it again… unless I’m with you, y’daredevil.”

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#misfits #nathan young #nathan young smut #nathan young x reader #nathan young imagines #my writing #prompt request #anonymous

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