#my choke me so hard while we fuck angsty enemy

[iwannakissyoubuticant]

[hihimissamericanbi]

I am really REALLLLLY torn between window sex and enemies to lovers one bed. Pls help 🫶🏼

Hell's Kels I'M BACK and ready to tackle this puppy!!!!

Let's do window sex since Snitch beat you to enemies to lovers one bed. And let's do wolfstar.

Okay apologies in advance but for some reason these drabbles make me want to write the kind of wolfstar i usually avoid in my bigger projects: canon, angsty, fucked up. Cw: rough sex

Setting: Canon, OTP, the scene in the kitchen after Harry arrives at Grimmauld Pl. Molly is trying to protect Harry and doesn't want him involved in the Order. Sirius wants to include Harry in everything. Molly says some fucked up shit about Sirius not being a good godfather bc he's been in azkaban. Remus plays referee, tells Molly to back off, and "Sirius, sit down." (BARK BARK).

Later, after everyone has left or gone to bed:

Remus waits for him in Sirius' room. He's sat in the chair in the corner, book open on his lap, staring patiently at the door.

Shortly after midnight, it swings open, Sirius swaying slightly and flushed with whiskey.

"Oh, now you wait for me." Sirius' voice cuts sharper than his mother's rings across the soft flesh of his cheek.

Remus doesn't rise to the bait. "We need to talk."

Sirius stalks toward his wardrobe, peeling layers off haphazardly, stumbling a little, tugging his muggle jeans off. "Like fuck we do."

Without warning, Remus stands and shoots a sobering spell directly at Sirius' stomach. He yelps and clutches his belly, face like murder when he looks up at his former friend and long-ago lover. "What the hell was that for?"

"I told you," Remus replies mildly. "We need to talk. And we're not doing it while you're half off your tits on Orion's stash."

"Merlin, fucking fine! What do you want? Tell me off some more? Honestly I'm quite all right there, ta very much---"

"I'm sorry."

Sirius scoffs, a broken, barking sound. "What?"

Remus inhales. "I'm sorry. For all of it. I haven't told you that. I'm telling you now."

Sirius, tall, broad, all long hair and dark beard and flinted eyes glowing in the low candlelight, rises to his full height, squares up against this shell of a man with too-soon gray hair and wrinkles in all the wrong places (forehead, mouth).

(the knees of his trousers.)

"Why now?"

"You needed to hear it." Remus shrugs. "I needed to say it. So here we are."

"And where were you before? Last night? And the night before that?"

"I needed to think."

"In the Tube loos?"

Remus flushes and looks away.

"That's what I thought. Get out."

"No." Remus steps close, into Sirius' space. "I'm not letting you go again. This time, we're doing this together."

Sirius tries to back away, but something won't let him. His stubborn pride, his arrogance---

His nearly twenty-year devotion to a werewolf in sheep's clothing.

"Kiss me," the disgraced prince demands.

The unfaithful supplicant obeys.

AND FOR THE SMUT:

Sirius puts him on his knees immediately. They are jealous and petty and Sirius needs to fuck the taste of all these other men out of Remus' mouth.

It's not enough.

He hauls Remus up by his hair, swings him around until they are directly in front of the night-dark bedroom window overlooking the shabby square below.

Sirius can see their own reflection in the glass more easily than he can see the muggles straggling to and fro on this sticky summer night. But he knows they are there. Even if the enchantments over Grimmauld Place completely obscure them from the public eye--

Remus and Sirius know they are there.

"Show them." Sirius growls, pushing back in, hitting the back of Remus, throat, making him gag. "Show those filthy muggle men whose cock you belong to. How sweet you take it for me. They're not getting your mouth ever again. This mouth is mine. Fucking--mine--"

He thrusts hard on the last words, emptying hot and hard down Remus' throat.

He chokes it down, coughing and sputtering, but swallows it all nonetheless.

"Say it," Sirius growls overhead, panting and sweaty.

Remus swallows again and opens his mouth, voice absolutely wrecked. He loves it. "My mouth is yours."

"Good." Sirius strips off the rest of their clothes. "Now turn around, hands on the window," Sirius murmurs as he sinks to his knees and licks his lips. "Time to show them who owns this arse, too."

hee hee thanks for playing <3 xoxoxo

[iridiscent-aesthetics]

I just saw your headcanon of az being jealous of gwyn and eris, may I suggest the opposite? gwyn being jealous of az and eris talking.

Oh I LOVE this one! Might be a tad bit tricky but I'm soo very up for it! Thank you @aelingalathyniusrailme for SUCH a great idea!

Gwyn would've found this entertaining. IF it wasn't Azriel there. She was aware of their hatred. Aware that they were literally always at each others throats. But she couldn't help but fume with jealousy while watching them in the training ring take on each other. Blow to blow, matching at each stride. She was watching Eris and Az spar. It began with a heated argument leading to the Autumn court heir challenging the Shadowsinger to spar. And now here they were, since a straight of 15 minutes, sparring. Neither nowhere close to yielding. Gwyn was cursing the redheaded male with all she had for choosing sparring instead of dueling. The absence of the weapons as a bridge and the proximity of their sweaty bodies was too much, nor did it help that neither had a shirt on. The angst, the tension built between them; it seemed straight out of one of her smutty romance books. Gwyn wasn't liking this one bit. "Come on guys, We get it! You're strong and bold. You're Fearless males! There. fed your bloated male egos. Now stop. would you?!" She yelled, throwing her hands in the air frustrated. "Let them be Gwyn, this is far more entertaining than having to listen them arguing to the point of biting each others heads off." Cassian stood besides her crossing his arms and watching them with a hint of curiosity as to who would win. Gwyn bet her money on Az because she would have it no other way, but as much as she hated to admit, Eris was just as good. "Yeah Gwyn. Besides, two of the hottest males fighting, now that's a sight to sore eyes. Enjoy the show!" Nesta chimed in elbowing her, eyeing Cass as he put his hand to his heart and feigned a dramatic expression of pain. Nesta rolled her eyes. "Oh I'll give you a good show Ness." He said scooping her in his arms and took to the sky. Newly mated idiots, couldn't stay away for a minute. Gwyn looked back to the ring and groaned "Well at least take a break!" "Okay!" Yelled Az before delivering a good blow right to Eris's jaw. "Break." There. That should teach the male a lesson for getting all cocky and getting Az worked up. "Going easy on me Shadowsinger?" Eris said rubbing his jaw. Mother! this male's audacity was insufferable! "Wouldn't want to ruin that pretty face of yours, your highness." Az smirked back. Gwyneth clenched her fist. Pretty face?! What in all of Prythian made Az think Eris was pretty! Did he find him attractive? Was he into males? Eris was beyond fine, he was VERY attractive. A strong jaw and sharp eyes with a strong intensity. The male was hot . quite literally. He would make a fit equal to Az. His lethal darkness and Eris's burning fire. She shook her head, No. She was over thinking, Az hated Eris; old bad blood. There was no way he'd fall for him. But she'd make sure of it. Az walked out of the training pit and straight to her, sweat dripping off him. Gwyn couldn't tear her eyes off him. "Enjoying the show Berdara?" Came a teasing Azriels' voice. "Mhmm." She didn't even want to deny it, let him know she was attracted to him. About time it got through that dense head of the Night Court's infamous Spymaster. "Hey Az..., what's your type?" She shot him the question looking everywhere but him. He shot his head to her. "What?" She finally met his gaze. "I'm asking you what kind of people you're attracted to Shadowsinger!" Gwyn was certain her face was as red as her hair now. He looked into her eyes for a hard moment before answering in a low voice. "Redheads. Stubborn ones with a fiery attitude at that. Bonus if they're competitive." He was still looking straight into her eyes, with a small smirk, tilting his head aside as if waiting for her expression, while his shadows were dancing around her in excitement. Gwyn's jaw almost dropped. Along with her heart as it fell to her shoe. She was right. Of course. Of course he was attracted to fucking Eris. Redhead, stubborn, fiery attitude AND competitive. Should've added fire d*ck to the list. "Right." She'd say nothing else. She looked away. "Gwyn?" Came his voice again. Her heart ached as she looked over

to Azriel's concerned face, trying to keep her sorrow reeled in within her. His shadows were frantically jumping around them. "Is everything alright, why'd you ask?" She gave him her best smile. "Yes of course." she waved it off. " just curious." He didn't seem convinced at the slightest but didn't push as he held up a water bottle and drank. Gwyn couldn't stop herself then, She was still his friend, He deserved to be happy, even if not with her. She'd help him pursue Eris. Even if the male would never deserve Az. "So I take it you're into males?" Az choked on the water he was drinking. "What?" He croaked out. Gwyn rose an eyebrow. "Males Shadowsinger, the ones that usually have a d*ck and insufferable egos but pea sized brains?" Azriel looked amused. "You forget that I'm a male too priestess." "Didn't." She muttered and leveled him with a bored stare. "Answer the question Spymaster." Az looked away, his gaze probably searching for Eris. "I've had male lovers in the past. But I've never felt a strong attraction, especially romantic attraction to them over five centuries. Pretty sure nothing's changed now." "Then Eris- how, He's an exception?" Azriel looked at her with a bewildered expression eyes widened. "Eris? What-why, what about him Gwyn?" Gwyn rolled her eyes, hands on her hips, looking down at him. "Quit the puppy eyes act Az. It fine admitting you're attracted to Eris, he's okayish. You'd look good together I guess. Enemies to Lovers arc, angsty slow burn romance,," she shrugged nonchalantly even though she was fuming inside. Az's shadows dropped. To say he was shocked was an understatement. Should he laugh, should he be hurt, or angry maybe? Eris? Of all people in Prythian, HIM? Gwyn though he was attracted to THAT male? "Gwyneth." He started in an emotionless tone face solemn, "What the actual fuck led you to THAT conclusion?" "Oh please. It was evident, for all that being Spymaster and stuff, you sure are obvious about your crushes. I mean for starts, you HATE him, or at least ACT like you do. That's always the first step to enemies to lovers. And then you guys are ALWAYS bantering! Score 2. And did you SEE that tension while you were sparring? AND Flirting with Eris? Its clear as day 'Mr. I show No Emotion'. And Redheads? Seriously Az, could you have even tried and been any more subtle? Az looked at her for a dead half a minute and then burst out laughing so hard that everyone in the training arena were now staring at them in pure shock to see the infamous Spymaster laughing his ass off. Az looked at her, trying to stop laughing, but one look at her angry face and he burst out in fits all over again. Gwyn kicked him good and hard in the knee. "Ouch!" He yelled, not stopped laughing as he held his knee. "Gwyn- I oh Cauldron. Wait." He heaved in and out. "Good shot Berdara." He said with a hint of pride, still chuckling. Gwyn kicked him again. "Nice try deflecting Spymaster." Az shook his head rapidly, still trying to catch his breath. He calmed down and looked at her. "Gwyneth Berdara. My darling. You thought I was attracted to Eris?" He started laughing again. Gwyn grew nervous, "You're not? But you said Redhead, Stubborn, Fiery attitude, Competitive. Eris is all that." "Well I'm not attracted to Eris. AT ALL. Please don't ever say or even think of that again. Please. For the sake of my sanity." Gwyn sighed in relief. "Sorry, I assumed Wrong." But then she tensed again. "But then, if not Eris, then..." She trailed off. If he wasn't attracted to Eris, then who else was it? Redheads? Lucien? Az stood up and held her arms. "Gwyn. Gwyn look at me." She looked up at him with weary eyes. "Can you think of a better Redhead? A stubborn, competitive, fierce one? She's fearless and strong." Gwyn scrunched her nose in thought. A she, was it Vassa? He flicked her nose. "She's a Valkyrie Gwyn." A Valkyrie? There weren't many new ones other than her, Emerie and Nesta, only about two or three. She looked around to see if there were any redheads in them. Az rubbed his hands on his face. "Mother's sake Gwyn,

its YOU." Her eyes shot to his in disbelief. He liked HER? "I- you, me?" She pointed a finger to herself. "You like me?" Azriel was furiously blushing red, he rubbed the back of his neck giving her a sided grin. "Yeah...that's what I'm saying..." Gwyn thought she was going to burst with all the emotions. "I-" Before she could say anything else Eris walked up to them. "Break over yet Shadowsinger?" He smirked. Gwyn growled, literally growled and stepped in front of Az. "Stay away from him Eris, find someone else to play fight. If I see you anywhere near him or talking to him, I swear to the mother, I will rip your throat out." Eris took a step back at her promised violence. "Hiding behind a female, Scared of losing Spymaster?" Gwyn took a step at him, she was certain she'd show Eris hell today. "Leave us alone Eris. I've scored my best win today." He said, looking at Gwyn fondly and putting a hand on her shoulder. Eris snorted and left muttering something to himself. "So..., are we going to talk about how adorable you are when you're jealous and angry? Especially over Eris?" Az teased her with a huge grin and happy eyes "I have no idea what you're talking about." Gwyn shrugged in charming irreverence. His gaze darkened as he looked into her ocean eyes, "You never finished what you were saying before asshole Eris butted in?" Gwyn gave him a soft smile before reaching up to his collar and pulling him down so she could kiss him. She pecked his lips once slightly before letting go and grinning at him while she walked away, leaving Az to process what happened and blush furiously like a teenager. He watched Gwyn walk away in victory. Mother, this female never failed to amaze him, And he was certain that this wouldn't be the last time. For the first time in five centuries, Az found hope. Found himself looking forward for the next day, and the rest of his life. Something sparked in his chest at the thought, A smile unconciously made way to his lips, like every time he thought of Gwyn; and this time, he didnt make to erase it. He'd let it for the world to see, the happiness Gwyneth Berdara brought to his life.

It's not about them talking exactly, but this seemed more fun to write😅

I tried! Not sure if it was good enough, but I've never really tried writing from Gwyn's POV.

Feedback, suggestions and other ideas always welcome!

[bard-llama]

WiP Wednesday: Rorveth, Isendain, AND Thronebreaker Snippets + Some Headcanons

I couldn’t decide what to do for WiP Wednesday, so uh... have lots of stuff! We’ve got an Iorveth/Roche snippet, an Isengrim/Eldain snippet, a Throne3 (Meve/Reynard/Gascon) snippet AND a little bit about some Thronebreaker headcanons me and @moonlights-ordinance​ came up with today.

Iorveth/Roche:

This is the beginning of an angsty fic wherein Iorveth pines and finds out some unpleasant news. The actual plot of the fic is Iorveth trying to get rid of his feelings, but we’re not there yet.

Iorveth really should’ve known that this day was destined to be hellish the moment that he was jolted from his paperwork daze by the rambunctious shouts of his Scoia’tael outside his office. He sighed, scrubbing his hands down his face, then checking that his bandana covered his scar properly. Only after that did he open the door to see what was sowing chaos amidst his ranks.

No one… actually seemed to notice his presence, which to be frank, was not a problem Iorveth typically struggled with. He was quite good at appearing intimidating and infuriated even when he wasn’t particularly trying. 

But it seemed his elves – and a few of the dwarves – were far too involved in their own gossip to notice him as he walked through the crowd.

“Have you heard–?”

“No way.”

“Guess he loved Temeria so much he married it!” someone chortled.

“Ha! From Cocksucker in Chief to Consort. He must be real good.”

A bout of cackling followed that last remark, and Iorveth had his first premonition that the day was going to suck. But he still didn’t have answers, so he walked straight forward into what would become his own personal hell.

In the center of the crowd, surrounded by countless elves and dwarves, Iorveth was not at all surprised to find his two favorite subordinates – who were rapidly losing that classification. He stepped up next to them, crossing his arms and waiting for them to notice the trouble they were in.

Really, he should have known it would be these two. Rinn, for all that she was nominally well-behaved and quiet, was extremely mischievous, especially when it had the potential to cause minor problems for Iorveth. He would not be surprised if she had planned this. Her companion, Ky, may have been more innocent in that she may not have intended to draw a crowd – but she was absolutely the one spreading the gossip far and wide.

It took a while, but slowly, the chattering grew quieter and quieter as more people took notice of his presence. Finally, Rinn caught sight of him and poked Ky, who was still loudly expounding on something about marriage.

“Something you need to tell me?” Iorveth asked, eyebrow arched high and disapproving scowl firmly in place.

Ky winced, but Rinn looked entirely unrepentant as she signed, the Temerian King made an official announcement today that I caught during my shift.

Iorveth looked at the way more than a few people were biting their lips and avoiding his eye and hummed. “And?”

“Roche is getting married!” Ky burst out as if she physically could not hold it back anymore and Iorveth felt everything freeze.

Married? Vernon Roche!? The erstwhile commander of the Blue Stripes and proud pain in Iorveth’s ass? Who the fuck would he be marrying and why would it be a royal announcement!?

Even though Iorveth himself still felt like he was encased in ice, time seemed to resume for everyone else and chattering rapidly commenced, elves whispering back and forth between themselves and each other.

What was it someone had said earlier? ‘From Cocksucker in Chief to Consort’?

Was… was Vernon marrying King Foltest!?

Rinn must have seen the question on his face, because she nodded and passed over a paper missive.

It felt like moving through molasses to extend his arm and accept the notice that would forever change his life.

The Ancient Royal Line of the Temerian Dynasty Announces the Wedding of

Foltest, King of Temeria, Prince of Sodden, Sovereign of Pontaria and Mahakam, and Senior Protectorate of Brugge and Sodden

and

Vernon Roche, Commander of the Elite Blue Stripes Special Forces Unit, Pacifier of the Mahakaman Foothills, and Right Hand to the King

to take place at the year’s end on the Winter Solstice

Iorveth stared at the announcement, static fizzing through his brain. Vernon. And Foltest. They were getting married!? 

His eye shot up to meet Rinn’s almost imploringly, hoping this was all some big joke. But there was no mischief in her eyes, and her forehead creased with worry as she watched him, clearly wondering what was wrong.

She, at least, appeared to be the only one who had noticed anything amiss in his reaction. The rest of his Scoia’tael were back to loudly gossiping about their enemy’s new status in life.

“Wait, I thought human men couldn’t get pregnant. Isn’t the whole point of a royal marriage to produce an heir?”

“Nah, I’ve heard the whore has a cunt,” someone laughed. “Can you imagine only having one? Sounds lame as fuck. But yeah, supposedly our dearest Commander Roche can make royal babies for King Fuckface.”

Iorveth’s heartbeat stuttered and he inhaled sharply through his nose. He… hadn’t known that. Sure, he’d heard rumors, but the rumors about Vernon were wild and extreme and ranged from his background as a whore to his imaginary sideline in child abduction to his preference for blunt force weapons.

Was this one… true? As he looked back at Rinn for the answer – aside from being the primary spy assigned to Vernon, she also seemed to just inexplicably know things – he could hear the conversation around him moving on.

“Hey, do you think that’s why they’re getting married? Maybe the idiot king knocked up his whore and now he’s gotta marry him!”

“I dunno, did Roche look pregnant at our last fight?”

Rinn nodded the slightest bit and Iorveth brain returned to static. Vernon. Pregnant. That – he hadn’t been aware that that was something he was emotionally invested in, but the storm of feelings racing through his veins proved that he was. He wanted – he wanted to see that, wanted to cause that, wanted to discover what Vernon’s cunt would be like and feel it stretched around him and–

He’d – he’d always assumed that Vernon had a cock, even though he wasn’t quite sure what a human cock looked like. But whenever he’d picture a different future – one where he could choose his own happiness over his cause – it hadn’t mattered that he didn’t know what a human cock looked like. His imagination was more than delighted to fill in whatever he wished, and coming up with different ideas was all that got him through the night at times. 

The idea of Vernon with a cunt was startling. It had never occurred to him before, and now he wondered how he could’ve possibly been so shortsighted. The things that he could do with Vernon’s cunt were limitless and Iorveth’s mind got stuck on that for probably far too long.

He was brought out of his daze by Rinn choking, wide eyes locked on his face. With sudden dread, he understood what she must have seen. What she must have realized.

Iorveth swallowed hard, jerking his head, “give me a proper report.” He turned to head back to his office without looking at her and he wasn’t sure if he was hoping she’d follow or that she wouldn’t.

(the rest under a cut to save your dash)

Isengrim/Eldain:

This is a fluffy bit from a get together fic set post-Reasons of State and we start with Isengrim mourning Dijkstra and Dijkstra’s betrayal.

There was a knock on his door and then Eldain’s voice spoke. “Isengrim? Um. I know you aren’t feeling great, but would you come with me for a bit?’

All of a sudden, then blankness fled under a wave of confusion and curiosity. “What?”

“I – um. I have something for you. But you gotta come with me for a bit. And if you don’t like it, I promise I will not get in the way of your grief, even if that means hiding out in here.” 

Eldain sounded nervous, of all things. Isengrim hadn’t actually known Eldain was capable of feeling nervous.

Why was he nervous?

Isengrim frowned at the door. He wasn’t exactly going to get an answer lying here. And maybe Eldain could keep him from thinking about Sigi and all the pain associated with him for a bit.

It was worth a shot. Besides, he’d come to rather like the other ex-commander quite a bit over the course of working together. Not that they hadn’t worked together before, but there had always been a formality dividing them. Eldain looked up to him, he knew that. Not that Eldain would ever say it, but it was the way Eldain looked at him. A soft regard that one could almost mistake for love, but was truly nothing more than hero worship. He’d seen the same look on the faces of all the young Scoia’tael, but from Eldain, it felt like the thorn of a rose – he hated it, knowing that Eldain would never feel the same, that he was destined to die alone and miserable and a beautiful young musician like Eldain could never be his. But at the same time, he coveted it, coveted Eldain’s regard, because even if it wasn’t what he wanted, it was something. 

He would give anything to have Eldain in his life in any form.

Swallowing hard, Isengrim rubbed his face, then opened the door. 

Eldain was on the other side of the door and his shoulders were slumped in defeat that quickly turned to confusion, one shoulder cocking upwards. 

“What?” Isengrim asked.

“I – no, I just. Thought you’d say no,” Eldain said awkwardly. 

“Does that mean you do want me to go with you somewhere or not?”

“Yeah!” Eldain shook himself, smiling at Isengrim, and it felt as though the sun had emerged from cloud cover, because instead of the nothingness-pain from before, now he felt – too much, really. And some of it hurt, but more of it was pleased to just bask in the rays of Eldain’s smile.

He was only half aware of following Eldain through the house, still a little dazed from the blinding light. But when Eldain came to a stop in front of a closed door, the world seemed to snap back into focus, and he looked to Eldain expectantly.

Eldain fidgeted, feet shuffling. “Um. Like – like I said, if you don’t like it, I won’t force you to stay, but um–” his adam’s apple bobbed and then Eldain opened the door and motioned for Isengrim to enter.

Isengrim took two steps through the doorway and froze. All around him, the room was lit up with dozens of little lights – some up high, some down low, others around his hips. Those ones on the floor guided him towards what looked like a raggedy old blanket draped over the wooden flooring.

“It’s not exactly a starlit picnic,” Eldain shrugged, setting down a basket he hadn’t even noticed Eldain was carrying, “but since we’re laying low, I figured this was as close as we could get.”

“I–” Isengrim was breathless, uncertain of what to say. Awe spread through him as he looked over the dozens of lights, each coming from candles in small lanterns that were hanging from the ceiling all over. He couldn’t think of any words to portray what this meant to him, what it meant that Eldain would go to all this trouble for him. So he was as surprised as Eldain when his mouth said, “isn’t this a fire hazard?”

Eldain rocked back as if he’d been hit, smile abruptly falling from his face.

“No,” Isengrim tried to recover, cursing himself. “I – this is amazing. Is. What I mean. Um. Am trying to say. I – you did this for me!?” If there was disbelief coloring his tone, it was only because he could hardly comprehend the idea of anyone going to so much trouble just to cheer him up.

Eldain’s jaw was clenched, and his expression was a neutral mask that Isengrim hated having put there. Why did he always hurt the people he cared for? Was he truly so tainted that anyone he touched was at risk of infection? Was simply being around him enough to ruin what could be an incredible life for a beautiful young musician like Eldain?

“You don’t have to stay,” Eldain murmured, and Isengrim felt like crying, uncertain whether he wanted to leave and spare Eldain the risk of contamination or if he wanted to stay and bask in this incredible gift that Eldain was giving him.

––

Never before had Eldain wished that Isengrim would leave his presence immediately. But if he stayed much longer, then it was entirely too likely that he would witness Eldain falling apart.

Eldain had always known his silly little crush would never go anywhere . He was even almost fine with that. But he’d thought – he’d thought that Isengrim at least considered him a friend. And yes, this whole production was a little over the top for friendship, but hey, Eldain was an over the top kind of guy.

There was always the possibility Isengrim would hate it. And he’d worried about that and fretted over it, but he hadn’t really expected it to happen. Even if Isengrim was uncomfortable, Eldain would’ve guessed that he’d be polite enough to grin and bear it. Which was far from ideal, but right now, Eldain really wished that he’d done that, because instead it felt like he’d reached into Eldain’s chest and ripped his still-beating heart out, leaving him bleeding and doomed.

“Thank you,” Isengrim said, and Eldain startled. Of all the words he’d expected, those were not even on his radar. 

“What?”

“Thank you. I – you clearly went to a lot of trouble to give me something beautiful. Thank you.” Isengrim said the words easily, and Eldain was confused. That… didn’t sound like Isengrim hated it. “So, what are we eating?”

Eldain’s smile grew slowly, but as Isengrim continued to look expectantly at him, he found that he couldn’t hold it back. He waved Isengrim towards the blanket – one probably as old as the house was, but all the good blankets were in use. “Bread and cheese. Fruit. Some veggies,” he narrated as he pulled the items out of the basket. “Wasn’t sure how much appetite you’d have, so I wanted to keep it light, but if you’re hungry, there’s still some venison in the storeroom.”

Isengrim looked at the objects laid out around them. “I – I don’t know what to say except thank you,” Isengrim said, a smile growing on his face that made Eldain’s heart beat fast. “This is very thoughtful and sweet.”

Eldain flushed, reaching into the basket to pull out the last item. “And, of course, some wine. It’s not exactly high quality, but we’re slumming it tonight anyway.”

The huff of laughter Isengrim let out made it feel like there were wings on his heart, letting it slowly rise. He’d made Isengrim happy. If that was all he ever did in life, he could be content with that.

Throne3 (Meve/Reynard/Gascon):

The porn tags for these 3 are sadly lacking, so... have some porn XD The premise here is that they’ve just escaped the Lyrian capital through the sewers and now they’re all washing off in the first river they came across.

They all knew what the venerable Count Reynard Odo was getting up to with Queen Meve upriver. But while the deserters from the Lyrian army and the Strays seemed content with gossiping about it, Gascon felt compelled to seek out more.

Sneaking past the guards ensuring their queen’s privacy with her boytoy even now was honestly pathetically easy. But then, they were probably used to looking the other way for their queen.

Gascon didn’t really know what he was planning, but he knew that he needed to see Meve in the throes of pleasure. The fierce and enchanting queen was currently being ‘serviced’ by her top aide and everybody knew it.

How could he possibly be expected to resist?

But instead of satisfying him, the view before him only made him crave more, because Meve and Reynard were standing about shin-deep in the water with him wrapped around her, hands stroking over her body as her head rested back against his shoulder.

But moreso than the picture they made, what truly drove Gascon over the edge was hearing Reynard tease his queen.

“So eager, your majesty,” Reynard murmured softly. “Could it be that the company of the ever so honorable Duke of Dogs,” his voice was heavily sarcastic, “has gotten you excited? Are you curious what that infuriatingly charming mouth would feel like against your skin?”

Meve arched as Reynard’s fingers skirted just short of touching her clit. “Reynard,” she growled.

Gascon wasn’t certain when his fingers had slipped inside his trousers, but the touch against his cock had him shuddering, already overwhelmed at the very idea that Meve could be fantasizing about him.

“Have you thought about pushing the arrogant bastard to his knees and showing him his place?” Reynard continued and Gascon bit his lip hard against a moan. “Have you pictured him, lips stretched around your widest strap, eyes tearing up from the effort of it?”

Meve whined softly, reaching up to tug Reynard into a kiss.

Gascon had never seen a filthier kiss in his life, and he stroked himself faster, picturing what he would do if he could join them. She may not have a strap handy to gag him on, but he was sure they could come to a compromise.

“Do you imagine him kneeling before you, begging for you?” Reynard rumbled and Gascon almost missed Meve’s sound over his own. Which meant that Reynard knew he was there when the Count continued, “I’ve no doubt the crass mutt is a marvel with his mouth.

Later, Gascon would claim that he spoke before he could even think about it, proclaiming, “I am.”

In reality, he spent a long moment contemplating how to respond. Getting caught spying on sex typically ended one of two ways: either you got invited to join in or you got beaten to a pulp.

He was fairly hopeful that the first option was more likely than the latter, but he wasn’t sure, and in the seconds of silence that followed his words, his heart pounded in his chest and pulse raced and he felt on the edge of either agony or elation.

“In that case,” Meve’s voice broke the quiet with all the firmness of having made a decision, “come pay homage to your queen, Gascon.”

Even though he’d hoped this was how things would go, he still felt utterly amazed that she had actually said yes. 

He stepped through the buses, trying not to look like he’d been caught with his hand down his pants. “Your Majesty,” he bowed his head with a playful smirk and then sent her a wink just to top it off.

Meve looked every bit the dignified queen as she held out a hand that should have held her signet ring. They had taken that from her when she’d been captured, but Gascon found himself licking his lips, taking her hand and kissing her ring finger as if he were a knight pledging her fealty.

Her gaze was hot on him as he slowly kissed up her arm, and unlike the two of them, he still wore his armor – which meant that he could pretend no one saw the way that his cock twitched when Reynard reached out and knocked his hat off, tangling fingers in his hair and pulling his face down into Meve’s chest.

Obediently, he applied himself to worshipping Meve’s tits, taking Reynard’s lead and only giving her glancing brushes across her nipples, denying her touch.

Meve growled in frustration, grabbing his hips and pulling him into her until the bulge of his cock rubbed over her pelvis. Her cunt greeted the contact with a gush of slick, staining Gascon’s pants and making him pant with arousal. 

“Fuck,” he gasped, grinding into her. She arched with a cry, fingers digging into his ass and Gascon desperately wished that there wasn’t a layer of fabric between his cock and that glorious cunt. But how could he pull away to fix that when his time could be better spent licking and sucking and biting at Meve’s glorious tits? Gods, they were beautiful, plump and sensitive, to the point that nipping at one nipple while squeezing her other tit was enough to make Meve’s body jerk, bucking into his hips as she utterly drenched his pants.

“Fuck,” he whimpered again, then dropped to his knees and buried his face in her cunt.

Thronebreaker Headcanons:

Okay, so as I’ve been getting to know Meve, Reynard, and Gascon and have started writing different plots with them, I’ve decided a few things. There’s going to be 1 universe of fics that falls under the “homophobia exists” universe that I talked about here. However, I know that’s not everyone’s boat and like, sometimes I just wanna write context-less porn, so definitely not all fics will! But I have several ideas already in that ‘verse, especially looking at the chronic pain Reynard has as a result of things.

So, specific to that ‘verse, one headcanon is that Reynard was whipped specifically for being queer and almost died from it. The wounds healed, but not... well, not the greatest. There wasn’t a lotta care taken with it. Which means that his back pains him A LOT and there’s a lotta things that he has to do different. For example, I’ve decided he sits in chairs like Riker does, keeping his back straight so that he doesn’t stretch the scar tissue. His range of motion is also limited in a lot of ways, but he’s found ways to compensate and hide it over the years. (just as an FYI, Riker sits like that, ‘cause Frakes had a back injury and doing that was less painful)

Okay, now WITHOUT the homophobia that led to chronic pain - I’ve decided that each of the Throne3 need to have a niche hobby that occupies them in their limited spare time (developed with much help from @moonlights-ordinance​). Sooooo:

Meve:

Meve likes sewing. She doesn’t like people to know she likes sewing, because it’s closer to a traditionally ‘feminine’ than she usually aims for, but she actually really enjoys it. 

On their journey, this comes out when Gascon’s shirt gets ripped and when he complains about it a lot, she just grabs it and mends it. This leads to her spending the evenings mending all the different clothing from the soldiers and the Strays.

I think she learned sewing from her father and he taught it to her in an attempt to get her to just sit still for five fucking minutes!! 

Not directly related to sewing, but because her mother was busy being queen, she was largely raised by her father, who was an Ofieri Marquis (like, 2nd level nobility, under a duke) whose family paid a substantial sum in order to win the match. He was not popular at court and therefore found himself largely shunned by the peerage, but it left him with basically all of his time to devote to his children. (Does... does Meve have sisters?? Queen Kalis supposedly bore several girls???)

Reynard:

Reynard likes to crochet. Specifically, he likes to crochet little plushies. He’s not too picky about what he makes, and whoever is in range when he finishes it will likely end up gifted with an unexpected plushie.

At one point, he finished making a stingray, only for a passing soldier to dub it a Sting-Rey. Thus, Lieutenant Sting Rey was born. The troops listen to Lt. Sting Rey better than they listen to General Odo lmao.

He has a habit of crocheting in the evenings in the mess (maybe with Meve mending nearby) and random soldiers (and Strays) like to sit around his feet so that when he finishes a lil plush, they might get it. And when he starts a new one, he might take requests.

I could say so much more about the plushies he makes for Gascon and Meve, but I guess I’ll save that for a fic. But I gotta share these pics, ‘cause they’re so fucking cute. So: a donkey for Gascon (’cause he’s an ass) and a Lyrian eagle for Meve (’cause it’s Lyrian lol).

Gascon:

Gascon likes dancing! Specifically, he was trained in ballet from a young age (like literally a year old is when you start, apparently) and was trained as a ballerina (meaning he will be lifted/led instead of doing the lifts/leading). By the time he ended up on the streets at 12 (8 in canon, but my guy needs to at least be 20), he was pretty damn good at it - and so he ended up teaching the Strays

The Strays have a ballet troupe that puts on performances for the gang on occasion as like, a bonus to music night or something. Semi-spontaneous and very fun.

Gascon is SCARY flexible (like, to the point that Reynard is a little horrified that the human body can do that) from dance and he definitely uses that to his advantage.

He 100% gets everyone to dress up all fancy and put on makeup and do their hair and shit. After all, they steal all this fancy shit from the nobles - why SHOULDN’T they enjoy it?

And there you have it! Sorry for the super long post, but also... enjoy?

[jefferoni-quotes]

Jamilton Playlist - Updated

hey! so a while back i made a jamilton playlist, but since then i’ve added and removed a few songs. some songs have simply been removed because i dont enjoy them anymore. as always, leave recommendations and add ideas!

Hey Stupid, I Love You by JP Saxe - Listen, this song is so perfect. Someone sent me an ask about it once so I gave it a listen and it fits so well! They’re both so stupid. “hE cAnT cArE aBoUt mE hE hAtEs mE”

Heather by Conan Gray - This one is a bit angstier. Alexander about Thomartha. Except, the last chorus. Thomas kisses him and all Alexander can react with is shock. He thinks it’s a prank or a sick joke, so he gets mad. “Why would you ever kiss me? I’m not even half as pretty!” (Please,,, don’t steal this idea I’m writing it :( )

Overwhelming by Jon Bellion - This is such a good song. I’m thinking first verse from Thomas’ perspective and the second from Alexander’s. The rest is up to you. It has some amazing lines like, “there is a potion in your lips, so sweet, I’d die.” And, “there is an ocean in your hips so deep I’d die.” It’s such an amazing song, go listen to Jon Bellion, I love him.

Boys Will Be Bugs by Cavetown - There’s a lot of cavetown songs on this list so bare with me. Thomas has fragile masculinity and my mind can’t be changed. Also I like applying Thomas to cavetown songs sorry not sorry. “If you wanna cry make sure that they never see it, or even better yet, block it out and never feel it.” Mmm, just sayin’.

Sweet Tooth by Cavetown - I don’t really have an explanation for this other than it’s a good song and it inspires a lot of Jamilton within me.

Telescope by Cavetown - Same as last time, it gives me motivation to write Jamilton. Mostly Jefferson angst, not gonna lie

IV. Sweatpants by Childish Gambino - LiSten this song is so perfect for Thomas. “Rich kid asshole, paint me as a villain.” B U T after the line “I don’t give a fuck about my family name!” The song changes for a few seconds before it goes back to normal and I think that’s an excellent opportunity to slip in TJ angst.

Affluenza by Conan Gray - Mm, angst? I think so. This time I say we add some Lafayette and Madison since they were both rich too. I just think this would be nice to see Alexander helping Thomas find some motivation again.

HOLD ME TIGHT OR DON’T by Fall Out Boy - It’s just a go to song for ships! It’s cute okay–

bad idea! by girl in red - They probably think sleeping with their rival is a bad idea. But that won’t stop them! Anyway, I feel like the first verse/chorus is from Alexander’s P.O.V, and the second verse/chorus from Thomas’s P.O.V, the rest could be shared or split up however you’d like.

Peach Scone by Hobo Johnson - First of all, this song slaps. It’s so good. Its unique and I love it. Also, its totally from Thomas’ perspective. He’s helping Alexander with his relationship with Eliza and pretending he doesnt have the biggest fucking crush on him.

Hot Fuck No Love by clipping.- Listen its sung by clipping. Daveed fucking sings this. You know I had to.

Dazzle by Oh Wonder - Thomas trying to impress Alexander. And Alexander being, “haha yeah you cute but also you don’t know what you’re doing with your life."

Sunshine Riptide by Fall Out Boy and Burna Boy - It fits well. A lot of FØB songs do. I get a lot of inspiration from this.

Backyard Boy by Claire Rosinkranz - High School AU. S,,soft,,,, they’re happy together. But also this could be angsty, like at the end. Turn it into a bittersweet ending.

Drinking Alone by Carrie Underwood - Thomas is sad and at a bar, Alexander tries to make conversation. They get drunk and hook up? I think so!

Beautiful Trauma by P!nk - Unstable relationship? I think so. Also the music video? Just saying… this could easily be Jamilmads too. P!nk being Alexander. Thomas being the husband. Listen I’m just s a y in g

Shallow by Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper - I just find this song so sweet and Jamilton deserves to be sweet sometimes okay.

Lemon Boy by Cavetown - Alexander being the metaphorical Lemon Boy. Everytime Thomas tries to get rid of him be appears again until he learns to live with (and eventually love) him.

Can’t Help Falling In Love by Twenty One Pilots - The cover of the Elvis Presley one because this one is a little more fast paced and that fits Jamilton better.

Sex With A Ghost by Teddy Hyde - Listen, after the duel. Thomas is trying to forget about Alexander but swears he keeps seeing him in the mirror and- hang on a second, where did those hickies come from?

Sweet Hibiscus Tea by Penelope Scott - I get many Jamilton ideas from this song, certain lines. “I am not your protagonist, I’m not even my own,” I’m just saying, I’m feeling some Jamilton in this song.

How To Be A Heartbreaker by MARINA - I can’t believe this wasn’t on the playlist until now! Picture it, Thomas gets rejected (you can decide who rejected him, I like to think it was Angelica, but this also works with him being rejected multiple times) and it hits a little hard. He decides from there on to stick to the heart-breaker role, and do onto others as was done onto him. Hence, leading Alexander on.

Hatef–k by The Bravery - I found this song recently and I fell in love. It’s so damn good, and it fits Jamilton to a T. Enemies to lovers hookup that leads to feelings? Yes.

prom dress by mxmtoon - I’m not sure why I saved this one, it just feels angsty. Alexander’s date ditching him at prom and crying in the bathroom when Thomas walks in, they talk it out and hang out together at prom. Mmm.

Devil Town by Cavetown - “Mom and daddy aren’t in love, that’s fine, I’ll settle for two birthdays” both of them! I really love applying cavetown songs to Thomas (and Alexander)

Choke by I DON’T KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME - Jamilton but while they’re still enemies. The song sounds so upbeat but the lyrics are like… homicidal and I think that’s pretty perfect.

Strawberries & Cigarettes by Troye Sivan - Them…….. being cute. I always think that this could be a nice high school AU, with them in senior year.

Can’t Sleep Love by Pentatonix - The two of them kind of start dating, but it’s never official. They can’t seem to sleep without the other being there. The very last “can’t sleep love” is Thomas finally messaging Alexander that he ‘can’t sleep’ and the last “yeah!” is Alexander responding that he’ll come over.

[herewegoagainniall]

I’ll Love Her Still: Part 11 (Brian May x Female!Reader)

O H wow. Hi. So. These past few months have been...they’ve been something, haven’t they? 

Idk about you, but my creative drive was just...decimated, I think is the right word for it. I’m so often my own worst enemy when it comes to doing things that make me happier, and writing is one of them. So even though this chapter won’t get attention or likes or anything like that, I’m honestly just proud of myself for having done it. We’re coming into the homestretch for Brian and Lily. What’s going to happen? Who knows?? (I do but y’all don’t yet)

TAGLIST: @alittlepeoplemagic​; @brianmayscurls​; @chlobo6​; @d-illo​; @delilahmay39​; @kenzie-belle​; @kiwithekiwi​; @lizzybeth1986​; @moreinfinite​; @readinghorn​; @rogerscupboard​; @thelegumemother​

TRIGGERS: Oof. We got angst. We got smut. We got angsty, sad smut. Proceed with caution.

You’d never been so happy to get back to a hotel room in all your life. You shoved the door open, threw yourself onto your bed and screamed into a pillow. You were right. You KNEW you were right. Why couldn’t Brian see that there wasn’t a future for the two of you? He needed to settle down with a nice girl from home, have a few kids, buy a big house out in the English countryside, and he’d eventually forget about you. That was the way it worked. And it was fucking ripping you apart.

You were just as furious with yourself as you were with Brian. You were never supposed to fall in love with him. He was just another star, another musician that you wanted to repay for making beautiful music. It didn’t matter that you could talk to him about anything, or that he always laughed at your jokes, or that he leaned on you for comfort just as much as you leaned on him. It COULDN’T matter. Because you weren’t supposed to fall in love with him.

A sob was ripped from your throat. And once you started, you couldn’t stop. You just sat on your bed and cried- cried for yourself, cried for Brian, cried for the future that Brian could see so clearly but was somehow hidden from you.

You breathed deeply- in and out, in and out, trying to calm yourself down. You’d just managed to get yourself regulated again, and had put on a Led Zeppelin record to raise your spirits when you heard him knocking on the door. “Lily, it’s me.”

So you were “Lily” to him again. Somehow, that hurt worse than you imagined it would. “Go away!” you yelled, trying to quell the burning lump in your throat.

“No,” you could practically hear him gritting his teeth. “I’m staying here.”

There was something in his voice… he wasn’t possessive, he wasn’t angry, he just sounded… desperate. For you. But you brushed it aside and scoffed, “Why deprive yourself of all the other girls here? Or are you too good for girls- oh, excuse me, sluts like me now?”

And then you heard a sob. A quiet sob, but a sob nonetheless. You quickly came to the realization that Brian May’s tears were the worst sound in the entire world, and if you could do anything to stop them, you would. So you slowly stood up and made your way over to the door. “Don’t cry,” you said, more tenderly than you probably intended it.

“I can’t believe I fucked up so badly,” you heard him choke out.

“Yeah. Well. You did,” you echoed his words from earlier, but you could feel your resolve starting to crumble. He just… he sounded so sincere.

“Y/N,” Brian sniffed from the other side of the door. Oh thank God, you were Y/N again. “Y/N, please. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry for blowing up at you. I just-”

You had flung the door open and pulled Brian’s lips onto yours before he could even finish his apology. Brian kissed you back with everything he had in him, gripping onto the back of your head as you pulled him into the room and kicked the door shut behind you.

When you came up for air, Brian’s emotions came spilling out of him like a pot that had boiled over. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t know what I was thinking, saying those things.”

Don’t say it, you prayed as you buried your face in the crook of his neck and started leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses there. Please don’t say it.

“I love you, Y/N.”

Fuck.

You pulled away and shook your head. “Brian, please. Please don’t say that.”

“It’s how I feel,” Brian replied. You could tell that there was a slight bit of residual anger in him,  but there was a much bigger part of him that was just too tired to fight anymore. “I know, okay, I know you don’t want to hear it, but I can’t just not tell you.”

You shook your head in response, saying, “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have been so callous.”

“I’m so in the wrong, Y/N.”

“No, Brian, it’s okay, I know I’m in the wrong.”

Brian gave you a small smile. “Can we both be wrong?” he asked in a small, hopeful voice.

You let out a sigh of relief and nodded. “Yes. We’re both wrong.”

Brian cupped your face and kissed you deeply, sucking on your top lip gently and moaning slightly. He pulled away and stayed silent for a while, tracing random patterns on your cheeks, nose, chin and lips. “You’re everything to me,” he exhaled. “I just… when I think of what you used to do, it… it felt like it crawled under my skin, you know?”

You said nothing. You didn’t know what TO say. You were fairly certain, though, that Brian wasn’t in love with you. Not really. You were the only woman he’d ever had sex with, of course he was going to think he was in love with you.

Brian, thankfully, didn’t try to fill the silence, instead opting for gently pulling you into his chest and kissing the top of your head. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“I know,” you murmured into his chest. Almost out of habit, you pressed a kiss to his pec, then started kissing up his chest, his neck (stopping to nip at his Adam’s apple) and finally stopping with a long, deep, kiss to his lips.

When you pulled away, Brian gulped slightly, his eyes remaining locked with yours as your hand ghosted over his cock, already half-hard. “Did I do this?” you asked with lying doe eyes. You knew full well what you did to him.

“No, Roger did,” Brian replied, rolling his eyes slightly.

You scoffed, “Alright,” you turned to walk away from him. “I’ll get the door so you can go find Rog and t-”

You yelped as Brian yanked you so that your back was pressed flush against him. “Mm-mm,” he shook his head. “You’re not going anywhere.”

With that, Brian started kissing and biting at your neck and lightly grinding against you. It felt wonderful, but… different. “Do you want me?” he whispered.

“Yes,” you exhaled, spinning around and slamming your lips onto his, desperately pawing at his shirt.

“No, no,” Brian grumbled into your mouth as he took your hands away from his shirt. He was breathing heavily, and he grabbed your face and pulled it away from his. “Not like that.”

He pulled you in by your hips and started pushing the hem of your dress up your thighs, relishing in the breathless gasp of, “Bri,” that you gave.

Brian’s head was resting contentedly in the crook of your neck, pressing soft kisses to your burning skin, but his hands were doing something far more carnal. He dragged his nails along your thighs, making you whimper out his name- a whimper that turned into a slight yelp as he pushed you back onto the bed.

His eyes were ablaze but his mouth was still in a firm line, his movements almost mechanical as he took his shirt off. He was holding back from you, trying to pretend like his heart wasn’t in this anymore. And you didn’t like it.

He reached for the straps of your dress, but you pushed him away, reaching for his face with cautious hands, like you’d burn if you touched his skin. “Look at me,” you said softly.

Brian shook his head slightly, but gave in when he heard you repeat yourself more assertively. His eyes flickered over to yours. The magnets were repelling again. He’d been the one to turn them around last time- now it was your turn.

You reached up and laced your fingers through Brian’s curls. “Kiss me,” you urged him with a whisper. “Kiss me like you always do.”

Brian’s head inadvertently leaned into your hand, hazel eyes slowly losing their harsh veneer. He leaned down, moving his hands so that they were cupping your face.

He took a breath, like he was about to dive headfirst into the deep end of a pool. And without pausing a second more, Brian brought your lips together in a glowing, passionate kiss. You returned his action and melted into his touch, letting your body undulate with Brian’s touch.

His hands snaked up your back and tugged at the zipper on the back of your dress. “You looked so beautiful in this dress, Peaches,” he murmured into the crook of your neck. “But it needs to come off. Now.”

“Be gentle with it,” you couldn’t help but tease him slightly. “Amber spent way too much on it.”

Brian (thankfully) took the bait and laughed while he pulled the dress off of your body- your bra and underwear weren’t too far behind. Once you were completely naked, Brian just gazed at you, letting his eyes be completely engrossed by your beauty. “Perfect,” was all he could say. “Such a perfect girl.”

For the first time in ages, you felt heat rise to your cheeks, and you dipped your head slightly. Brian used that opportunity to start pressing kisses into the exposed part of your neck, making you shiver. The feel of his lips spurred your hands to creep forward, up his thighs, dragging his zipper down at a torturous pace until you finally finally got to where Brian wanted you to be.

“Y/N,” he breathed out as you pulled out his cock and stroked it slowly, trying to make sure he felt every flick of your wrist. “Fuck, I- I need you. Please.”

“You need me? Or do you want me?” you couldn’t help but tease him.

“Want, need, feel like I’m going to die if I’m not inside you right now- take your pick,” he replied, somewhere between composed and desperate.

You laughed and pushed yourself back onto the bed, propped up against the pillows, naked and ready for Brian. But it wasn’t until Brian got up to grab a condom from the regular drawer that you realized something- you were ready for Brian in a whole new way. A way that you’d never been for anyone. You grabbed Brian by the arm and said the words that you had never said before. Not to Joe, not to the person you’d lost your virginity to, no one.

“I…I don’t want you to use a condom.”

Brian’s eyes grew wide. “Don’t toy with me, woman.”

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. “I’m on the pill, if that’s what you’re worried about.” You reached up and cupped Brian’s face- you swore he had never looked more beautiful. “You mean the world to me, Brian May. You’re not just another rock star, another notch in my belt. I want this. I want this with you. I don’t want any barriers between us. Please.”

A mixture of lust and pure adoration came over Brian’s face as he eased back onto the bed and hovered over you. His lips pressed to your forehead softly, and his hands smoothed their way down your body, leaving goosebumps and anticipation in their wake. “I- Are you sure?” he whispered as he held himself and lined up at your entrance. For just a moment, he looked like the scared, nervous young man he had been when you first saw him back in Y/C. And in a way… he still was.

“Yes,” you exhaled.

Without waiting a second more, Brian pushed into you. Whatever you had thought having sex without a condom would feel like was nothing compared to how it actually felt. There was so much pleasure crowding your brain, you could only let out some sort of whimper. You hoped Brian would be able to equate that sound with, “OhGodthisfeelssogoodpleasedon’tstoppleaseneverstop”.

“Y/- Y/N,” Brian choked. “I- it feels-”

“So good,” you finished his sentence for him. “So good” didn’t really cover it, but it was good enough for now.

Brian got right into the rhythm of it, starting to give small, shallow thrusts, gasps falling from his mouth like honey. Neither of you spoke for a while- emotions were still running high from earlier, and as far as you were concerned, what was happening between you and Brian right now was too special to break the spell of.

You were being stretched out so perfectly by Brian’s cock, you swore that there was no better feeling in the entire world than the one you were feeling right at that moment. And then he started to go deeper, his gasps became moans and he actually managed to let your name slip out once or twice. You reached up and tangled your hands in his hair, pulling him down for a kiss. Your lips fused together, and you could feel yourself getting closer.

And then it slipped out.

“Fuck, Y/N, I love you, oh my God.”

Instantly, your heart dropped into your feet. You tried so hard to pretend that you hadn’t heard it, just letting out a whimper and grasping at Brian’s hand to bring it down to your clit and finally get you over the edge. But you had heard it. And even when your orgasm finally hit, as sweet as it was, you still couldn’t stop hearing it.

Brian kept whispering how much he loved you (even though the closer he got, the more incoherent his statements became) and all you could do was mentally thank God that the lights were low so he couldn’t see the tears in your eyes. His hips started to stutter and his eyes screwed shut- you knew it was time.

“Cum, Brian. Let go for me,” you whispered, practically begging him.

You clutched Brian tightly to you as you felt him release inside of you with a strangled moan… and you knew, somehow, that no man would ever feel as good to you again. Brian had ruined you- or maybe you’d ruined each other.

You turned onto your side as Brian fell asleep (he was so drained that it didn’t take long), going over and over the events of the night in your head. You thought the choice would be an easy one to make. But your eyes flitted to the stars… the stars that, no matter what, would always remind you of Brian. No matter what happened, someone somehow was going to get hurt.

You could only hope that Brian would forgive you.

[aelysianmuse]

DESTIEL FIC REC

Okay, so, fanfiction is something that has brought me so much joy, entertainment and comfort during these hard times. These are the Destiel fics that I have bookmarked and would suggest for everyone to read. They are top notch in every department and I’ve read each and every multiple times. I wrote them down from the lowest word count to the highest and I linked the authors to their tumblr accounts, whenever I could find them, so please go shower them with love!

Touchstone - by xylodemon -   Words: 3,519 - Summary: "You're in pain," Cas says finally. He sounds sad. (Episode tag for 11x03, the one where Dean is hurt but doesn’t think he deserves Cas healing him. Cas disagrees and makes heals him in loveliest, most tender way. Everything is beautiful.)

Colette - by englandwouldfall - Words: 4,218 - Summary: Cain’s prediction keeps ringing in his ears. He’s going to kill Crowley, then Cas, then Sam. It makes sense to him. He hates how much sense it makes, but there’s something almost poetic about it; it’s circular, neat, the Mark wants it. The Mark wants to destroy everything, but most of all it wants to destroy Dean. And that would do it. (Episode tag 10x14, Dean struggling with the Mark, unable to deal with all the anger and urge to kill and Cas trying to be his savior Collette. Feelings are acknowledged but things are far more complicated than that.)

Newton’s Third - by felolle - Words: 6,220 - Summary: “How can I be running from something when I’m racing toward it?” “I dunno -- kinda your thing.” Thanks for the call out, little brother (Episode tag 14x03, Cas helping Dean deal with Michael possession. Awesome character portrayal!)

Take me home tonight - by persephoneshadow -  Words: 8,111 -  Summary: The one where Cas wants to have sex and Dean is there to help (It’s a PWP where it takes some jealousy for Dean to get his head out of his ass - and Cas knows exactly what he’s doing)

Boys on film - by loversantiquities - Words: 8,540 - Summary: But maybe that’s what it is—maybe Castiel’s finally realized something Dean is too chicken to admit, despite the fact he’s been jerking off to the idea of Castiel fucking him for the past few weeks. The idea warms him as much as it pains him to think about, his friend not being able to talk to him about something like that. That has to be it—it’s the only explanation. Castiel likes him.“Or maybe he knows you do cam shows.”Dean chokes on his burger. (Basically Dean does cam-shows, Cas knows. They get it on in the end.)

Cuckoo and Nest - by komodobits - Words: 10, 190 - Summary: For a long time, Castiel thought that every earthly possession other than the immediately necessary was excess to requirement. But Dean – Dean who named his car, who keeps a photograph of his mother in his wallet, some thirty-plus years after her death, who still has the crumpled ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign with a sleeping pelican emblazoned on it from the Microtel outside of Roanoke where he first kissed Castiel, clumsy and unsure, under the unsteady fluorescence of an exhausted bathroom bulb – is sentimental.It puzzles Castiel, where Dean draws the line between what is meaningful and what it is worthless. (Boys walking on eggshells around each other, Castiel mistaking Dean’s neatness for annoyance about Cas’s lack of thereof, Dean mistaking Cas’s apprehension for having one foot out of the door. Miscommunication that gets resolved. It’s delightful!)

Just turn around and go - by Porcupinegirl - Words: 11,320 - Summary: Dean should be happy. His best friend and housemate of five years, Castiel, is moving out to live with his boyfriend, Balthazar. Dean's career is going great, so he can easily afford the house on his own now. This is just growing up, moving forward to the next phase of their lives.It would be awesome, if he weren't in love with Cas. (Some angst and miscommunication among roomies who are in love but needed a little push to finally do something about it, and that push is Cas deciding to move out and live with his actual boyfriend. Things work out just fine.)

So glad we made it - by annie d (scaramouche) - Words: 16,421 - Summary: At twelve years old, Dean makes a friend, who becomes his best friend, who will eventually become the love of his life. (Destiel fic in which they know each other since childhood and take their sweet-ass time with admitting to each other that they’re otp: meant to be. But it happens. Timeline of little snippets that show them falling in love and owning that shit up, at last!)

I know who I want to take me home- by annodominique -  Words: 17,548 - Summary: The one where Dean and Cas are new workmates who hate each other's guts, are somehow forced into driving each other crazy because they secretly want to fuck, and they might have fallen in love with each other in the process. (Lots of sexual tension, mutual pining and enemies to lovers storyline - all in a nursing home. It’s amazing and absolutely heartwarming.)

Welcome to humanity - by winnywriter -  Words: 19,944 - Summary: Castiel is falling, slowly but surely becoming fully human. Every day there is something new to discover, and many of those discoveries are not wholly pleasant ones. And the whole time, Dean can't help but worry about the fact that the further the angel falls, the more he finds he likes the human Cas is becoming. (It’s exactly what the summary says it is. Moments of Castiel slowly becoming human and Dean trying to help him navigate that path while navigating it himself in the most Dean way possible)

On air - by wincechesters - Words: 21,219 - Summary: Cas and Dean are radio DJs who host the second most popular morning show in Lawrence. They’ve been co-hosts for years at different stations across the country, and they own a house together out of necessity, even though they’re just friends. But for some reason, a lot of their listeners and even some of their friends and family seem to think that they’re secretly in some kind of relationship, which they’re totally not (besides that one time that totally doesn’t count). In spite of that, Dean thinks he’s got everything figured out, until an ill-fated on air game of Truth or Dare turns everything upside down (and the billboards around town aren’t helping either). (Friends to lovers story that’s very well summarized, so I have nothing to add except that it’s such a wonderful read, this author is absolutely amazing and you should definitely read it.)

The Beach House in the Winter - by englandwouldfall - Words: 23,715 - Summary: They're not exactly in a good place right now, so it was probably a bad idea to agree to a full Milton family reunion at their old summer haunt to mark a year since Cas' father died.Obviously, he did it anyway. (This is a second part of a series, I absolutely suggest reading all of the works ‘cause they’re equally wonderful, but I read this one first and individually and loved it the most so I’m suggesting it. Look at tag warnings. It’s about Dean having panic attacks mid sex due to trauma, Castiel trying to treat him right and handle the situation properly. They love each other so much ugh)

There are many things - by imogenbynight -  Words: 28,807 - Summary: In which Dean and Castiel learn, through trial and error, how to be together. (What starts out as an angsty fic that follows Cas’s human experience after Dean kicked him out of the bunker, turns into a Destiel falling in love fic as they find their way back to one another)

Sometimes it fits - by ballsdeepinwinchesters -  Words: 37,720 - Summary: Castiel is an over-worked, socially awkward neurosurgeon; Dean is the ruggedly handsome paramedic that asks him out for drinks. The rest kind of fell into place. (Two hotties with busy work schedules having lots of sex and being domestic. It’s a lot of fluff and smut. No angst.)

Put up your dukes - by saltyfeathers - Words: 38, 282 - Summary: Dean can't sleep. Cas offers to tire him out. (Dean struggling to accept the sexual tension relief Castiel is oh-so-eager to offer. So much tension, sparring goodness and bed sharing.)

All’s well that ends well - englandwouldfall - Words:  52,326 - Summary: Dean knew the second he took off that he shouldn't have left, but that didn't mean he could have guessed what he'd be coming back home to. (It’s actually a part 4 of the series, and I do suggest reading the entire series, but I read it first and individually before even realizing this and I absolutely loved it nonetheless. It’s about both Dean and Cas having made some poor choices in the past, abandonment and infidelity and two of them loving each other so much that they’re willing to forgive and fight for each other no matter what. Angsty and beautiful.)

A midterms night’s dream - by englandwouldfall -  Words: 75,756 - Summary: There's at least fifteen good reasons why they're not sleeping together, it's just that Dean can’t remember them when Cas sends him one second dirty snapchats to goad him into doing the dishes. (One of my absolutely favorite fics and one of my top 3 fic authors (does a lot of series, which gets you really emotionally invested!). I suggest you read literally every single Destiel story written by this author, ‘cause it’s consistent in character portrayal and in invoking emotional response and I’ll probably explicitly write down at least one more story that I particularly liked from them. This one’s about them being college roomates who’re basically oblivious to sharing sentiment of wanting to be in relationship with the other, so they pine emotionally while having exceptional we-are-strictly-fuck-buddies sex)

Version 2.0 - by elizabeth1985 - Words: 75,937 - Summary: Life is nothing but a series of processes. We rise, we work, we function within the walls we’ve designed for ourselves. Dean Winchester does not deviate from this system. Heavily tattooed and a certified genius; Dean necessitates control. Relationships are a no-go. Too messy, unpredictable. And yeah, he knows having casual sex with his best friend, roommate, and business partner is a dumbass move. But Cas’ suggestion is impossible to resist.What Dean doesn’t expect and couldn’t possibly predict is the unique way Cas manages to shut down his mile-a-minute mind, giving him a level of inner peace he’d thought to be unattainable.What starts out of convenience morphs into a dynamic emotional slide neither of them were prepared for, forcing them to decide what they’re willing to risk. (Cas and Dean being business partners turning to fuck buddies turning to mutually pining idiots, where Cas won’t let things progress further ‘cause Dean is so entwined in every single aspect of his life that he’s absolutely terrified to lose it all. But Dean makes an effort to show him otherwise!) + It’s hard to fool around in a tent (Words: 5,861)

Any little heartbreak - by followthattardis - Words: 76,897 - Summary: Dean Winchester knows everything there is to know about the human heart. Well. Anatomically speaking. (Very Grey’s Anatomy-y, Dean is a thriving cardiosurgeon, Cas is his new surgical nurse assistant, there are so many well written characters, so much gossip, gratuitous sex and eventually a relationship. It’s so lovely, ugh I love this writer.)

A crash course in computer safety - by followthattardis - Words:  85,269 - Summary: On the day of his 29th birthday, Dean receives an email from his old nemesis: Michael Milton, the guy who got him kicked out of college and stole his girlfriend. The email contains encoded images with top secret CIA/NSA intelligence – and now their only copy is in Dean’s brain. Both agencies send their best operatives – Castiel Novak and Victor Henriksen respectively – to handle their accidental asset and protect the invaluable data in his head. To justify their sudden appearance in Dean’s life, they adopt covers: Victor as Dean’s new co-worker and neighbor, Cas as his new boyfriend. Needless to say, Dean’s brother and his girlfriend are thrilled to see him in a relationship they believe to be real. Clearly, there’s no way this could go wrong. (This is a NBC: Chuck AU and one of my top 3 fics ever. I haven’t watched Chuck at all and regardless of whether you have or not, I don’t wanna write anything else in this section ‘cause I enjoyed discovering every bit of information on my own. I’ve literally taken this fic and studied/analyzed it as a writer myself to take pointers on accurate character portrayal and writing style. It’s book material, I’d literally buy anything this author writes. It’s becoming a series and more content is to come so I suggest subscribing.) + Curtain up (Words: 10,311)

La hantise (The only work in progress fic here) - by quiettewandering - Words:  87,468 - Summary: Castiel’s mother dies, leaving him the family home that sits abandoned on the moody coast of Maine. He’s forced to return to the past ghosts of his trauma, as well as meeting the mysterious and nomadic Dean Winchester. Dean offers to help Castiel fix up the house so he can sell it, which quickly becomes problematic as Castiel begins to develop feelings for Dean; especially when details of Dean’s troubling past come to light.This is a story about the sea, second chances, and two broken, forgotten people building a love between them while restoring a broken, forgotten house. (Romance, ghosts, house renovation, cliffhangers, angst - I am awful with WP’s, never read them till they’re done ‘cause I’m an impatient one but this is the one I couldn’t resist and thoroughly enjoy)

Ignore the butterflies: best friend advice from Dean Winchester - by impatient14 - Words:  114,837 - Summary: Dean likes his doctor, but his doctor doesn’t like him.Accidental friendship ensues, heartwarming bonding type moments occur, and oops!friends become best!friends.But best friends aren’t supposed to feel the way Dean feels about Castiel. He knows this. So he ignores all the things that he can’t help feeling. When he sits and watches a movie with his best friend or when they are arguing about which method of coffee brewing is best, he pointedly doesn’t look at his friends lips, or the adorable way he tilts his head when he doesn’t understand.Dean ignores his feelings.That’s the way he knows how to keep his best friend.Just ignore the butterflies. (Dean is a heroic firefighter who ends up in stand-offish Castiel’s ER and flirts mercilessly with him, but to no avail. Cas is not made of stone, though, he’s just trying to protect his little heart ‘cause Dean does scary heroic things. It’s super emotional, go read it.)

Keeping you in sight - by gingerswag - Words:  136,374 - Summary: Castiel valued his solitude, and was happy to stay hidden away in the mountains for the rest of his life. But when his seeing eye dog dies, that solitude is suddenly broken when Gabriel shows up not with another dog but an actual human slave. Castiel doesn't believe in slavery, but he can't turn away the very hurt and broken man he's given. (This is a slavery fic, look up the tag warnings! It’s extremely angsty, it has a very human and rational ending which not might satisfy those looking for a conclusive, expressed fairytale ending for these two. It’s about Dean having gone through a lot of trauma and Cas being extremely lonely and two of them trying to mend each other while going through an excruciatingly painful healing process. I don’t think I can summarize it in a way that envelops everything that happens in this fic - it’s a tougher read but absolutely wonderfully written and very angsty)

Stay with me, sweetheart - by mandalarose - Words: 142,926 - Summary: A single moment's distraction ends with a serious car accident that leaves Castiel trapped in his vehicle. Fortunately for him, fire fighter Dean Winchester is there, never leaving Castiel's side as the rest of his company work to free him from the mangled remains of his SUV.When the two meet again in the ICU, Castiel finds himself just as drawn to and comforted by the handsome fireman as he was during his accident. Dean is certainly attractive, but single father Castiel doesn't have time or space in his life for a romantic relationship.Then again, there's no harm in making a new friend, is there? (Dean is so whipped, so is Cas but he tries really hard not to get invested ‘cause everyone leaves and it’s not a commodity he can afford now that he’s got a baby. Thankfully for him, Dean is all-in kind of guy who’s gonna make all the right choices, one after another, fighting to show Cas that he can have what he desires and deserves, even after multiple attempts of Cas’s to push him away. Love conquers all!)

Four Letter Word for Intercourse - by bendingsignpost - Words:  194,739 - Summary: As a grease monkey turned college freshman, Dean's constantly three seconds away from being stressed out of his mind. It hardly helps that he's finally figuring out his sexuality in his thirties.What might help with that stress is a little phone number (and a big credit card bill). If he can't figure out how to be bisexual in person, he can at least give it a go over the phone, right? (I think I probably read this story a hundred times. Fantastically written fic where Dean is a student discovering his sexuality through a phone sex line, struggling with having to take over family business and Cas is a professor with a sidejob, with whom Dean interacts wordlessly at the library. It tackles on mental health, on wonderful sex dynamics, coming out and lots of other stuff. It’s one of the best writen fics out there, along with the other works in this series that I highly suggest to read: A Little Anal - Words: 18,805 and What makes a man kneel - Words: 9,920)

[cocos-cocoapuffsarenotforsale]

Not Him~~Part 4

MASTERLIST

Part 3

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Stark!Reader

Warnings: Protective!Bucky, Protective!Tony, Dad!Tony, Takes place during Captain America: Civil Ware, Use of the Word Whore, Little Angsty, Pregnant!Reader, violence, swearing, CANON DIVERGENCE!

Taglist: @chewymoustachio

A/N: Hey guys, I finally updated Not Him! Let me know if anyone wants to be added to the taglist (or removed). Sorry if you have already asked, it’s been a while and I’m having some difficulties with finding it. Hope you all enjoy the update! Xoxo

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It was a long and grueling flight, and to make matters worse apparently, your baby was no fan of flying. You had lost count of how many times you had to puke during the flight. But finally, you were landing in Siberia, you had been nervous that you had gotten the coordinates wrong until you saw the Quinjet. You let out a sigh of relief, you were going to see Bucky soon. After spending practically 24/7 with him in little apartments all over Europe it was really hard to not be with him.

“Dad?” You say after you landed the helicopter but before he could vacate the aircraft.

“Yes, Princess?” He asked letting out a small huff of annoyance.

“Remember your promise,” you command before opening the helicopter door. Goosebumps immediately cover your skin and you're unsure if it’s due to the cold, windy weather or if it’s because of the eerie calm outside the HYDRA facility.

“Stay behind me,” your father ordered as he took the lead entering the building.

The two of you remain silent until you walk into the main chamber and see Bucky and Steve standing in the middle of the room. Both of them look on edge and bewildered. 

“Buck?” You call, approaching the men carefully and quietly.

“Y/n?” He asks, turning around to look at you. His face goes from confused to shocked to angry, all in a matter of seconds.

“You were supposed to go home! He was supposed to take you home!” Bucky shouts accusingly, as he points a finger at your father.

“We did. She explained the Super Soldier dilemma to me. I wanted to help. I couldn’t bring the others, Team Cap is in prison, Nat’s on the run, Peter’s just a kid. I don’t know how to get in touch with T’Challa, Vision is inconsolable right now, and Rhodey-Rhodey-” Your father’s voice broke off. 

“Tony, what happened to Rhodey?” Steve asks, taking a step closer to Tony.

“He’s paralyzed, he almost died. He’s still in critical condition.” You explained for your dad, knowing it was too hard for him to vocalize right now. Rhodey was your dad’s best friend, through everything he was there. When your mom ran out on the two of you, only after getting as much as possible from your dad financially, leaving him with full custody of a newborn. Rhodey was there to help your dad adjust to single parenthood. After your dad was kidnapped, Rhodey was there, when Pepper dumped him after finding out his bisexuality, Rhodey was there. Through all the turmoil with Steve and your dad, Rhodey was there. He was there through it all, and the thought that Tony had almost lost him was too much for your dad to bear.

“Tony-I-I’m so sorry,” Steve said, pulling your dad into a Super Soldier sized hug.

“Where are the other super soldiers?” You asked, trying to bring everyone back to more pressing matters.

“Dead,” Bucky replied stiffly. You looked at him, bewildered by his hostile attitude and saw the fury still raging in his eyes. Fuck, looks like you were going to be getting quite the lecture later.

“Dead?” You repeated incredulously. 

“I’m not sure why he wanted to bring us here but apparently he wasn’t interested in the other Soldiers,” Bucky explained, walking closer to you, he pulled you into a tight embrace and buried his face into your hair. He took a deep breath, inhaling your familiar scent.

“So what does he want us here for?” Your dad asked looking around, the tension in the room was overwhelming. What could this man have in store for you?

“Hello Avengers,” you hear a cold voice answer. “Really Mr. Barnes, did you think I wanted more of you? I hate you, all of you. Earth’s defenders, that’s how you Avengers like to think of yourselves, right? Well, I’m sorry to inform you that you actually are Earth’s destroyers. You cause devastation and pain wherever you go.”

“Where are you?!” You shout looking around trying to find the man.

“Don’t worry about that. Why don’t we watch a little video?” He replies, the computer turns on and a video begins to play.

“I know that road,” your dad mutters. No! Why would this man want to show him this?

“Let’s get out of here,” you say trying to tug your father away from the screen, but he doesn’t budge.

“Why not let your father find out the truth Y/n?” The voice taunts and you feel your blood run cold. He wanted to destroy your family. That was his goal. To tear the Avengers apart.

“Dad, let’s go. Now!” You demand, giving his arm a harsh pull, but his feet remain firmly planted in front of the screen.

“What does he mean, ‘the truth’?” Your dad questions, an unfamiliar edge in his voice.

“It doesn’t matter.” You argue trying in vain to get him away from the video. But it’s too late, the car drives past the camera and the motorcycle follows quickly. You freeze, knowing exactly what was about to happen. The look on your dad’s face makes your knees go weak, you had never seen him look so...destroyed.

“You killed them?” He growled, turning to Bucky, who instinctively raised his gun in response. Steve steps between them quickly, before they can hurt each other.

“You knew?” Your dad chokes out looking at Steve, the betrayal clear in his eyes. Steve’s lack of reply is all the confirmation Tony needs.

“You knew what he did. And you never told me?! How-how could you?! You defended him!” He roars at Steve.

“Daddy-” You start but are cut off when your dad whirls around to stare at you. 

“What about you? Did you know? Did you know what that monster did to our family?!” He spats before shoving Steve out of his way and blasting one of his Repulsors off at Bucky. Luckily, Bucky is able to dodge that blast and the following ones.

“ENOUGH!” You shout, using your powers you pin your father to the wall, with his arms stuck at his side.

“I will not let any of you harm the others. Yes, I did know. Steve told me before I accepted the mission. I decided not to tell you because I knew all it would do was hurt you. I was trying to protect you.” You explain pacing around in front of your father.

“That’s not your job. You should’ve told me.” Your dad argued.

“Why? What good would it have done? Well?” You demand, feeling the frustration bubbling up in you.

“I would have known the truth! How could you be with him? The monster that killed your grandparents, tore our family apart!” He shouts back.

“He is not a monster! You raised me to be open-minded and to forgive. Bucky didn’t do those things. He was tortured for years and had his mind fucked with! HYDRA created the Soldier, the Soldier did those things, NOT BUCKY! HYDRA is the enemy! Not Bucky! He is just as much a victim as we are!” You insisted.

“I raised you to be a good person! I don’t even recognize you anymore! I raised you to be better than a whore for a terrorist!” He yells and all of a sudden you see the color drain out of his face when he realizes what he said. But it’s too late, he already said it. You feel your knees buckle and the tears are streaming down your face as you sink to the ground. Bucky is by your side in an instant, while Steve stares on shocked. Bucky quickly scoops you up in his arms, fighting his natural impulse to beat your dad to a pulp for what he said to you. Bucky rushes out of the building towards the Quinjet, Steve hot on his trail after finally snapping out of his shock.

“Y/n, I didn’t mean it! I’m sorry!” Your dad calls after you, but you ignore him, instead curling into Bucky’s side.

“T’Challa?” You hear Steve ask in shock, causing you to turn your face from Bucky’s chest to see what’s going on.

“Captain,” the Prince greets. “I must apologize, Sergeant Barnes. I was wrong to try and harm you. I just discovered the truth. My actions were despicable, not the actions of a king. I hope to learn from my mistakes.”

“Apology accepted,” Bucky replies, shocked that he was even receiving one in the first place.

“I have dealt with the organizer of these events. May I offer my assistance to the three of you?” T’Challa offers.

“Got somewhere we can hide out for a while?” Steve asks, half-joking, half-serious.

“I know just the place,” T’Challa replies with a small smirk, motioning the three of you into his aircraft.

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Part 5

[join-the-joywrite]

Hamish & Vera soulmate au headcannons

Look at me, back on the vermish train

Okay so, you and your soulmate can communicate with each other telepathically. Most often, it's a conscious thing, you have to intend to do it. However (who doesn't love angst skjsjw) it can happen that during moments of intense fear or rage or even unfiltered joy -- so basically, overwhelmed, I guess -- you can project without even knowing.

Remember how I said I loved the idea that Vera's name isn't Vera? Yeah, we're going with that one here too. For the sake of making sure all of these in the same collection have similar facts to them, we're gonna say her name is Sophia.

Since she was like 4 or 5, Vera's been trying to talk to her soulmate. She's sure at this point that her soulmate is either deaf or dead. When Hamish is eventually capable of coherent thought, Vera tells him this. He thinks it's funny. She thinks it's rude that she had to wait so long to get some responses.

"The kids at kindergarten are being mean to me." "Tell them Sophia Stone can and will fuck them up." "You said a bad word! You thought a bad word!"

I like my childhood best friends turned lovers trope okay, so Vera and Hamish grow up "together" telling each other nearly everything.

When he's 12, Hamish realises that at this point, the age gap between them is pretty huge considering Hamish hasn't hit puberty yet while Vera's somewhere having a baby.

"Tell her I said hi." "She kicked me. I don't think she likes you." "She will."

When the little baby dies, Hamish hears nothing but Vera's choked sobs for days on end. He doesn't know what to do. He's just a kid himself -- so is she, to be honest -- but he does his best.

"I saw a shooting star. I'm sure that was her. Did you see it?" "The curtains are closed. Give her a wave from me?" "Of course, Soph."

When Vera packs up and leaves everything behind her, she leaves behind Sophia. She tells Hamish that she's changing her name but given that he refuses to stop calling her Sophia over every single name she suggests, she never actually remembers to give him her new one. Besides, Hamish knows every goddamn thing about her. As far as she cares, he can call her whatever the hell he wants.

Many many many years later, by the time Jack Morton has come to town, Vera still hasn't given Hamish her new name and Hamish has actually forgotten that she said she'd changed her name.

Chancellor Vera Stone knows that Hamish Duke is a TA at Belgrave. She wonders if that's her Hamish. Sometimes she wants to go up to him and strike a conversation. She's not sure what she's afraid of more: that he is or that he isn't.

If he isn't, then she's gone and shown affection. Besides that, she would have expectations and hopes and they'd all come crashing down.

If he is, then he's in a shitload of danger, given her position in the Order. Better to keep him unaware and safe. What he doesn't know won't hurt him.

Hamish thinks about telling his Sophia about the Knights. He never does. He'd already lost Cassie. He remembered all the times he lay awake at night, thinking about Cassie and then he would get so overwhelmed with how amazing she was, he'd eventually hear a voice in his head "SHUT THE FUCK UP SOME OF US ARE TRYING TO SLEEP"

After Cassie's death, if he thought to much about Cassie, the little voice in his head would be much more consoling and softer.

"I saw a shooting star. Do you think that was her?" "I saw two." And she would quieten, probably lost in her own thoughts about her daughter.

It was then, around the same time someone had murdered one of Vera's close friends in the Order, that they both mastered the art of keeping their thoughts to themselves. They could never let each other into the dangers and the death in their lives. They were both safer off never knowing the Knights or thr Order existed.

"Vera," Jack says several months after arriving and bringing the catalyst for a shitstorm, "this is Randall, Hamish, and Lilith. They'll try not to kill you."

Vera glares at them. The Knights of St Christopher, enemies to the Blue Rose. "I suppose I can try too."

"Well, that would be highly appreciated."

Vera wouldn't say she was an expert, but being part of a secret society that requires masks to be worn in certain circumstances, one has to have at least some level of skill in identifying voices. As the Temple Magus, it's no surprise that Vera is very good at identifying voices. And the voice that came out of that werewolf's mouth was the same one she'd been hearing in her head all her life.

Unfortunately, she didn't have the luxury of time to sit and talk about it.

Hamish doesn't notice. In his minimal defence, he's still convinced the voice in his head belongs to a Sophia.

Vera considered being the one to powder Hamish. Leader to leader. Soulmates. She won't admit it, but she chickened out. She didn't think she'd be able to do it if she looked him in the eyes without the threat of death around the corner.

Werewolf or not, Hamish was still the person she trusted most in the whole world. She was afraid that if she looked him in the eye, she'd break.

"When you hit Mr Duke with the pulveris memoriae, make sure you tell him [important stuff] and that his soulmate's name is Sophia." "Why is that important--" "are you questioning me, Medicum?" 0.0 "no, Grand Magus"

Selena wants to know why Vera knows the name of a werewolf's soulmate, but she really doesn't want to cross paths with Vera again.

"I feel like I'm missing something. I don't know what it is." "... are you wearing pants?" "You know that's not what I mean, Soph."

Guilt eats Vera up nearly every single day. He's safer this way, she tells herself. Away from the Order and all the dangers it brings.

When Lilith brews the potion to restore and protect their memories, Hamish is swarmed by every single conversation he ever had with Sophia and like a semi-trailer truck, realization strikes him.

"That bitch!" "Who?" "Uh . . . The Order." "Same"

Hamish doesn't say anything to Vera that he wouldn't normally, and he doesn't say anything to "Sophia" either.

"Bring me something in a tall glass." Hamish: oh you already fuckin know about this don't you, you little witch, I'll show you a tall glass akxnsnsb

Shenanigans ensue as Hamish tries to keep Vera and Sophia separate so that Vera doesn't figure that the Knights have their memories back.

"Hamish, who are you talking to?" "....Myself."

"Hamish, who's Sophia?" "..............no one." "Sure..."

"Mr Duke, are you talking to my floor?" Vera asks to break Hamish's concentration because she's trying very hard to reprimand Randall for something and it's not helping that Hamish's voice is in her head. "Not at all, Magus." Tight smiles as they refrain from attempting to maim each other while having a "normal" conversation in their heads.

Randall: what the fuck is all this eye sex about

OKAY BUT VERA WITH THE PROMETHEANS????

Hamish is on Foley's tail but he has to stop for a minute to catch his breath because every single moment of pain in Vera's life is screaming into the mind of every Promethean, but also his.

"Miss Dupres told me you let Foley get away earlier." "I did." "You didn't. What happened?"

Hamish wants to tell her what happened but he also doesn't want to shatter the fragile barrier between Sophia and Vera. Between the light-hearted joyous woman in his head and the broken and hardened leader in front of him.

"Nothing happened, Vera. He got away earlier. That's all."

All he wants is to hold her. For so many years, on the anniversary of the baby girl's death, he'd wished he could be there to give her a hug and hold her while she cries. Every year. And now, now she's standing right in front of him but he can't let her know. He can't let her know he knows.

Hamish watches her turn to leave. She shudders once before composing herself and starting to walk.

Fuck it.

Vera is startled when she finds herself trapped. Her first instinct is panic. Pure fear and terror. Then anger settles in because to her, as far as Hamish knows, he is a disciple of the Order. The anger barely lasts a second, though.

I saw a shooting star before I came down here. I gave her a hello from you

Vera just knows the voice was in her head and not out loud. She stands still as Hamish buries his face in her shoulder. "I miss her. Every single day. Today was . . ."

"I know."

"You know, I think she would have liked you, eventually," Vera whispers honestly. Hamish laughs. "Are you agreeing that I'm likeable? Werewolf hide and all?"

"Don't get greedy, Acolyte."

"What defines greedy, Magus? Stealing a kiss or two?"

"I'm warning you--"

No one believes the Acolyte that says she saw the Grand Magus furiously making out with one of the disciples. Well, not no one.

Randall waltzes into the den. "Guess what, Lame-ish? I heard that the teacher you've been thirsting over was seen with one of the disciples in the temple. According to the Acolyte, she--"

"Yes, I know, I was there."

"You saw them?!"

Raised eyebrow

"YOU WERE THEM????"

Mr Duke, if you say one more word to Mr Carpio, I will revoke your access to the reliquary and spread word that you got called out for being a nerd in fourth grade and your response was to recite positive synonyms for nerd to defend yourself.

Hamish snorts and won't tell Randall what was so funny.

and we have to stop here because if I go on, we'll head into angst territory and I've got too many happy vibes going on here to make it angsty without feeling sad myself.

Me: has 4 other drafts in here waiting to he completed and posted.

Also me: I'm gonna do another soulmate au set

See the other headcannons I've screamed about lately

[malereader-inserts]

How to Save a Life

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries / The Originals Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson & Son!Reader Summary: Just a boy looking for a family he’s never known. Word Count: 2,198 Request: @will-grammer “May I request for Elijah Mikaelson and male reader, please? One where the reader is his son and his mother kept him away from the world in fear he would have been caught by Klaus' enemies? Now nearly an adult, his mother died, and he was raised aware that Elijah knows nothing of his existence. But he's all alone in the world, so he goes to find him. Maybe some angst, with mourning, and eventually a happy ending? I missed your Elijah writings. I hope it's alright!” A/n: Truth be told, this is way out of my comfort zone to write but because I haven’t written anything for you in a long while so I decided, why the hell not, not as angsty as I anticipated it would be. inspired by the song How to Save a Life by The Fray, idk why, but it’s a bop.

Elijah had only loved one person, and yet, that person had run away from him with a note so vague he doesn’t know whether if it was his fault or not. Still, he had tucked the letter away in a box of her. 

All her handwritten love letters and gifts she had given him.

Elijah had never felt lost before until he had experienced losing her, he tries to think positively. Maybe she’ll come back to him and when she does, he’ll open his arms and welcome her back.

After all, you only experience true love once and he was sure he had found it in her.

Elijah wondered what had caused her to disappear from him, the letter had said something about protection but Elijah could protect her, even if it was the last thing he’d do. So, Elijah spends days, sometimes nights, wondering where did he go wrong.

Your mother, the woman who had left Elijah wondering, was a dear. She had run away like some eighteenth-century girl to protect her unborn child. She was a single mother and as you grew up you admired her for it. You weren’t the best child as you grew up, you were a handful but your mom made a man out of you.

She made you like your father, she says, but better. 

You’ve always been curious about what your father was like, but she never really told you many stories about him. Other than, he’s more than a human and that he was a vampire. You spent many years growing up with fables of lore, you know that your dad is a vampire and your uncle is a hybrid with many enemies.

Sometimes, you would peek just a little over the doorway and see her cry, she would flicker through an album book full of notes and pictures of her and your father. She puts them away in a box, full of the things he would give to her.

“But what was he like?” You asked, when you were nine years old, as she presses a tender kiss upon your forehead.

“Now, you should be going to bed, aren’t you tired?”

“No! I want to know more about daddy!” You whined as she smiles, carefully flattening your hair, stroking it gently.

“I think you’re tired, perhaps next time, my boy.”

You never asked again, it was a sensitive topic because you knew she was still longing for him. Now, you were in search of him, you had no idea what to expect, in fact, you were too afraid to even look for Elijah. 

You were alone now and going into a major city was terrifying for you. You lived in a small town and your mother preached that if she ever heard you went to New Orleans without her permission, there will be trouble. The city was full of vampires, werewolves, witches and hybrids. You couldn’t go there, it was banned territory.

“Why can I go there?” You asked when you were twelve, your eyebrows knitted together as you tilted your head to the side.

Your mom sighs, wiping the bloody knee you managed to achieve from playing rough with your friends. Sitting on the kitchen chair, she wipes the knee from the dirt too, it was just a scrape really, but as a mother would she got too worked up.

“You know exactly why, boy, it’s too dangerous!” 

“But, if dad-”

“Do not mention him,” Your mother scowls as you shut your mouth, looking at her with wide eyes.

“Why doesn’t he know about me?” You finally asked.

“For your protection, my child, I cannot be losing you too soon.”

In a way, you wonder how you work. Were you like Renesmee from Twilight, half-vampire and half-human? You read books that vampires cannot procreate and yet you were here.

“Cursed?” You asked your mother once, at the kitchen table, fifteen as you flicked through the old books about witches.

She was chopping up the carrots for your evening dinner as you looked up to stare at her back, she looks over her shoulders.

“I’m a cursed child?” You asked again.

“No, my child,” She dismissed you and your worries.

“But, I shouldn’t be here, in a way.”

“Then, consider yourself as a miracle child, a blessing,” She says softly, going back to her cooking.

It was too confusing the tell and find out, you couldn’t ask your mother anymore now that she was dead. The family had buried her in New Orleans, the first time you entered the banned territory was to attend your mother’s untimely end. You didn’t want to bother family on mother’s side, after all, they wouldn’t understand you.

So, your best course of action was to find Elijah. 

He wasn’t hard to find, he looked exactly as he was from the picture, you kept on you at all time. A picture of him and your mother, your mother young and so sweet-looking, many have told you that you were a spitting image of her, just a boy. 

You still had that mischievous glint in your eyes like she did but the softest of smile that was so welcoming and pleasing to the eye. When you spot your father, you spot him with a couple of people as well, you were afraid of interrupting and at the moment he looked quite terrifying. 

It was almost as if fate was playing you two to meet.

Elijah had been strolling through the graveyard one evening, he had an unsettling feeling inside and it would not settle down. He needed air and time to clear his mind without his siblings being unconsidering wankers. He found your mother’s grave, and heart had shattered into more pieces he could imagine.

Those shards of a broken heart started to pierce his lungs as he found himself unable to breathe, this couldn’t have happened. It shouldn’t have happened, if only he just got up and looked for the love of his life. 

If only Elijah went out to look for her and protected her, to reassure her that everything will be okay and he would love her until the end of time.

If only. 

Had he known how to save a life?

He starts to visit, he noticed flowers appearing at the grave, new ones and jealousy run through the vampire’s veins. Until he stumbles to the grave one day, a teenager standing in front of the grave.

You were holding forget-me-nots, you’ve been in New Orleans for a week alone and afraid with no one to turn to. Your father was scary to you from afar so you were sceptical in talking to him. 

“You know her?” Elijah asked, watching you jump at his voice. 

You had dropped the flowers in front of the grave and looked at him, you almost lost your breath because he’s exactly how your mother described him and how the pictures look.

“Yeah,” You nodded, looking back at the grave as Elijah continues to stare at you, senses peace when he was around you, “I’m her son.”

“Son?” Elijah chokes out, deep down he was seething, who was the father of you?

“Yeah,” You smiled to yourself, looking at him with the smile.

Elijah was going out his mind, the smile was all too much for him, it reminded him of her. 

“I’m sorry what?” Elijah breathes out as you looked at him, “You know something, don’t you?”

You went into your pocket as you fished out a picture, you thumb rubbing over your mother’s face, “Mother didn’t talk about you often, she still loved you but she had to protect me, away from your brother’s enemies.”

You held out the small photo out to him as he hesitantly takes it from you and looks down at the picture as you let out a shaky breath, watching him take in the picture.

“No-” Elijah snarled, his emotions rising, “You’re-no, it can’t....it’s not possible! You cannot be mine.”

“But-”

 “Get away!” He roared, eyes sharp of red as your eyes widen as you see the fangs grow with veins popping out.

You stumble backwards, almost tripping over your feet as you ran, ran far far away from your mother’s grave. Choking on the sobs you had created.

Elijah watched you run away from him, the only thing grounding him was the picture of him and your mother.

It takes him a day to get his shit together, he’s kind-hearted, he remembers your mother describing him. So, he goes out to look for you, you get to know you better.

He finds you in a cafe, sitting outside with your sunglasses on and an ice-cold beverage on the metal table. You’re watching as people passes by so you don’t take notice of him approaching you.

“Hello,” He says as softly as he could muster up, “I think we need to talk.”

You freeze upon his voice, your mind instantly throwing you back to the moment of threat. The red eyes that could kill. You sat up straighter and taller, gulping in fear as Elijah takes the seat in front of you. 

He sees you tense and he hates himself for it. 

“I apologise for what a did,” Elijah says as you turn to face him, he cannot see the fear behind your sunglasses and a part of him hopes he doesn’t because he would hate himself, so he smiles politely, “I can explain.”

“You’re just upset she’s gone?” You asked you stare politely right on through, “Newsflash, I watched her die, so it’s you’re upset then I’m fucking devastated.”

“Language.”

“You’re not my-” You paused and sighed, looking down for a moment before looking at him, “I mean, you don’t want to be my dad by the looks of things.”

“How old are you?” Elijah asked, changing topics if things realigned maybe you were his child, his boy.

“Seventeen, almost eighteen.”

“An adult.”

“Barely,” You shrugged your shoulders, rubbing your eyes under your sunglasses before taking them off.

He sees you’ve been crying, he tries to ignore the heartbreak you present him. You were seventeen, you say, you could be lying but you seem to fit the age, look wise and by the tone you held yourself, you would be too scared to given lie to him.

Seventeen.

Seventeen years ago, she ran away to protect something, that something was you. 

Elijah looks at you as you silently wait for him, “What’s your name, boy?”

“Boy, sorry,” You chuckled, “Mom always called me that, but she named me after a name you fondly liked. You told her many times that f you were to ever have a child that is what you would like to call them.”

“(Y/n),” Elijah breathes out, as you responded to the name subconsciously, he chuckles to himself and you felt stiff, “I really mess up, I should have given you a chance, my son, my boy.”

“Don’t think you calling me your son, makes up for  whatever had happened on that night,” You scoffed, your eyebrows drawing close together as you looked at him, “I know what you are.”

“And you’re not afraid.”

“Flat out terrified,” You admitted, you soften, however. Your shoulders slumping and looked defeated, “Mom never told me anything about you other than you’re that thing and I’m a cursed child that shouldn’t even exist.”

“Ever thought of yourself as a blessing? A miracle?”

“You sound like mom,” You laughed, your lips tugging upwards at the thought of her as Elijah smiles as well back at you, hoping it eases you.

“You look like her,” Elijah slips out before his mind could process what had been said as you smile grew bigger.

“So, I’ve been told.”

There was silence between the two of you, though Elijah felt comforted that you were no longer tense around him. You take a sip of your ice-cold beverage as he watches you, he feels that sense of comfort around you. Perhaps, your mother never really left. Perhaps you prayed to God that he hears you, hoping your father takes your in.

“Do you ever wonder where it goes wrong?” You asked out of the blue, “Maybe, if I didn’t...”

“It’s not your fault,” Elijah interrupts, knowing where this conversation was leading, as you sigh in defeat, “May I ask...How did she...?”

“Vampires, or hybrids, I haven’t read much on hybrids, seems like the newest fad around,” You joked as Elijah chuckles, nodding, “I just know she sacrificed herself in the name of me being protected, she said they were Niklaus’ enemies?”

“Huh,” Elijah scoffed.

“I went looking for you, my mom’s side wouldn’t...I couldn’t really go there, they think I’m mad, insane.”

“Well, you are my son, and I do have a lot to make for and for the time that has been lost on us,” Elijah smiles and stands up, holding a hand towards you, “Come, we’ll bring you home.”

You smiled to yourself as you take his hand and allowed him to put a firm hand on your shoulder, being accepted as his son was a nice fluttering feeling in your stomach.

“Home, I like the sound of that.”

[phobiadeficient]

Speeding bullet cross fraction maybe? Maybe one of them nervous about how to teams would react, had they found out and the other calms their partner's mind with gentle sex

this is like literally more feelings than it is porn but im almost physically incapable of writing cross faction without it getting angsty. call it billy shakes syndrome

-

“Anyone see you?” Sniper asked quietly, taking Scout’s jacket and hanging it up by the door.

“Don’t think so,” Scout replied quietly, kicking his shoes off and starting to wrestle his way out of his t-shirt.

It was late, stupid late, but the lateness was necessary. Nobody else was awake and about, most likely, and if they were, they would be too tired to go investigate what someone was doing going into Sniper’s camper, and it was too dark out for them to be able to tell that the person was wearing blue, especially with the additional precaution of Scout wearing a black jacket over his regulation civvies. And absolute worst case scenario, if someone came by, it was possible they wouldn’t recognize the enemy Scout when he was out of uniform, and Sniper could say that he was… his friend from town, or his weed guy, or something like that.

Scout seemed a little off, hands shaking too bad to get his laces undone. Sniper was patient, moving to pour Scout a cup of coffee—decaf, but Scout always drank it with about four packets or two spoonfuls of sugar anyways, so it didn’t matter.

Scout took his usual seat, and his hands continued to shake as he took a drink from the mug Sniper slid across the table to him, staring at the blinds every few moments as if sure they were going to come alive and try to strangle him at any moment.

“What’s wrong?” Sniper finally asked.

Scout took a breath, then another. “Nobody saw me,” he repeated. “But… I think Spy—ours—saw me… coming back in late. He started asking questions. Then during the break today he said… he said something, I dunno the exact words, but he was… maybe he was just making fun of me. I dunno. But it sounded kinda like he might know something is going on.”

Snioer reached across the table, took Scout’s hand gently. Scout allowed it. “Well,” he said, “maybe he doesn’t. Just keep acting natural.”

Scout nodded, swallowed hard. “And if he does and we gotta make a break for it…” Scout trailed, looked at Sniper and back away. “…We, we planned for it. We’ve got a plan. We know what’s gonna happen.”

“Right,” Sniper agreed. “Don’t panic. The boss will send someone to talk to us. If she does the same thing she did with Soldier and Demo, she’ll tell us that we’re hired to kill each other specifically, and that the other one already agreed. She’ll say all sorts of things to confuse us and make us doubt ourselves.”

Scout nodded, swallowed hard again. Sniper waited a moment.

“And what are you meant to do?” he gently prompted.

Scout nodded. “Play dumb, then play along,” he managed, although his voice was a little choked. “Act mad for a little bit, then pretend I believe whatever she says to me.”

“Right. And I’ll do the same but give in quick since I’ve got the reputation that I’m a professional about this sort of thing, plan to kill everyone I meet and all that,” Sniper continued. “And then the weekend immediately following, we head to the bar in town, meet up, make our escape. Back before I had a Medic around to patch me up, I knew this sawbones down in southern California, and she’ll do what she has to do to get anything Medic’s put in us back out, and we mail them back to our bases then high-tail it to Canada.”

“And if somethin’ goes wrong, we’ll handle it,” Scout said, voice tight. “We know what we’re doin’.”

“We know what we’re doing,” Sniper agreed, squeezing his hand.

Scout blinked hard a few times. “What if…” he started to say, then stopped. “What if somethin’ goes real wrong though?”

“Then we’ll handle it,” Sniper replied.

“But what if—“

“Love,” Sniper cut in, squeezing his hand a bit harder, heart dropping at the way Scout squeezed his eyes shut, propped his forehead against his hand. “Love,” he continued, more gently. “I know you’re scared. I’m scared too. But we can’t afford to let it eat away at us right now. We need to keep acting natural.”

“I’m gonna fuckin’ die if I gotta keep sitting around pretending I’m not scared twenty-four-fuckin’-seven, Snipes,” Scout said, voice broken. “I just sit around all day worrying about you and if anyone’s found out and if anyone’s gonna find out and if I’m gonna mess everything up for us. It’s all I can think about.”

“You can… let it out in little bursts,” Sniper said carefully. “Like now, when there’s nobody around.”

Scout sighed shakily. “I only get maybe ten hours a week that I can see you and I don’t wanna spend it freaking out like this, I feel like I’m ruining everything,” he admitted, sinking even further.

“You’re not,” Sniper assured. Scout’s exhale told him that he didn’t believe him.

Scout drank his coffee silently, still staring off into middle distance. Sniper dipped as well, watching his expression as well as he could without staring, which would just make Scout feel self-conscious.

“Can we lay down?” Scout asked, sounding tired, and Sniper nodded.

He laid down, and Scout wasted no time in curling up against his chest, pressing them as close together as he was physically capable of. Usually Sniper would get on his case about it, because they lived in the desert and it was the middle of summer, and even with it being past sundown it was hot and uncomfortable and they’d both get sweaty in no time. But this time he didn’t, he allowed it, just kneading and drawing circles into Scout’s bare back, connecting the dots on his freckles while Scout nestled his face in against Sniper’s neck, breathing slowly, deeply.

Minutes passed that way, and then Scout shifted slightly against him, and after a moment Sniper realized Scout was kissing his neck.

“Love,” he said quietly, hardly a whisper.

Scout ignored him.

“Love,” he repeated, a bit louder now, hands stopping.

“C’mon,” Scout mumbled against him. “What’s the problem?”

“You’re upset and freaked out,” Sniper replied, a little sharply.

Scout’s exhale was shaky. “I just need a minute to be out of my head, okay?” he tried, the annoyance in his voice crooked, and Sniper could hear the exhaustion underneath.

So he nodded, said some quiet affirmation, and Scout was shifting.

Sniper mostly just pet at Scout’s exposed skin while he got himself ready, rousing his body and soothing his mind. Stroked and pinched, let himself be distracted from his own nerves and the weight in his chest by the sounds Scout started making and the weight on his lap. By the time Scout was adjusting, sitting up on his knees so Sniper could shuffle his pants the rest of the way off, slowly lowering himself down around Sniper with all kinds of gorgeous little noises, his mind was adrift, too busy trying to register so many nerves lighting up to dwell on things like his life situation.

Scout moved fast, something there in his eyes that told Sniper he wasn’t completely distracted yet, and the jolt of his hips bordered on uncomfortable, on too much, making Sniper’s breath catch in his throat. It only took a minute or so for Scout to make a noise of frustration, motions stopping with a final jerky roll, chewed-off nails digging into the softness of Sniper’s stomach. “Get on top,” he panted.

Sniper nodded, wrapped an arm around Scout’s lower back, braced his elbow. Carefully rolled them, repositioning them, pressing an apologetic kiss in against Scout’s collarbone when he made a sound of discomfort. “Ready?” he asked quietly, and Scout nodded, head falling back.

It only took a few seconds before he looked back up at Sniper though, eyebrows furrowing. “What’re you…?” he trailed breathlessly, clearly confused.

“Taking it slow,” Sniper replied, voice still quiet, gentle. He reached a hand down to adjust Scout’s thigh just slightly higher up on his waist, and Scout opened his mouth, presumably to complain, but all he could do was release a moan at the next slow push, angled just right.

Despite the large majority of his body demanding that Sniper pick up the pace and rail into Scout like there was no tomorrow—and who knew, maybe there wouldn’t be—he kept his pace slow and easy, moving just right to make Scout’s back arch, his hands curl in against the sheets, then Sniper’s hair as he gently guided him to do so. Scout looked up at him with wide, bewildered eyes, and Sniper looked right back, allowing himself now, and only now, only in the privacy and secrecy of his own house and home, to show his love on his face, bright and clear as he watched Scout fall into the throes of pleasure. That was his only goal. He could finish himself off later for all he cared—right then, Scout deserved, needed, to be pampered and shown that Sniper loved him. More than anything else in the world.

Why did he have to be on the other team, Sniper asked in his own mind, eyes squeezing shut for a moment at the weight of the question. He didn’t get an answer, so he just opened them again and moved to start kissing across any skin he could reach, starting to jerk Scout off in slow, easy motions, giving him that little twist at the end that he enjoyed so much.

Scout was practically a puddle by the time he was done, Sniper’s only warning before he came being a hard twitch in his hand and a gasp half an octave higher than Scout ever got. He kept his motions steady, even if his hand sped slightly, wringing out every gasp and half-stammered syllable that he could before shivering took over and Scout fell back limp against the bed. Sniper pulled out as gingerly as he could, wincing as the heat and tightness left him.

Scout tried to start talking twice, and managed it on the third time. “Why’d you stop?” he half-slurred, blinking up at Sniper, dazed and fucked stupid. “You could’ve finished off, it’s okay.”

“That would’ve hurt,” Snioer pointed out gently, finding his boxers and wiping Scout’s mess off of his hand.

“That’s okay, I would’ve been fine,” Scout said.

“No,” Sniper replied, cupping Scout’s cheek now, looking him dead in the eye. Scout’s eyes widened at the suddenness, the intensity in Sniper’s gaze. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m never, ever going to hurt you. Not if I can bloody help it. We clear?”

Scout looked at him with those big blue eyes for a few more moments. Then, over the course of a few seconds, his expression crumpled, and then he was lunging up to pull Sniper into an embrace, sobbing hard.

Later in the night, Scout would suck him off and they’d talk about other things, minds far away from their situation, finding joy and comfort in each other, and joy of a different kind in each other’s bodies as strength and vigor slowly returned to them. But in that moment, Sniper just held on Scout, wishing more than anything else that he would never have to let go.

[hey-cabinets-i-changed-my-icon]

NADDPOD Episode 73 Spoilers

Thanks to the wonderful, beautiful @falling-through-cabinets for posing the question, “What was Akarot’s plan?” so here is what I decided was Akarot’s plan and the aftermath.

- Gets dark, and angsty at the end with insecurities and dark thoughts coming into play - +700 words

- To quote @falling-through-cabinets after I shared this fic, in a horrified tone, “Who hurt you?” -

Akarot kicks Beverly over so he’s looking down into Beverly’s face. Moonshine unable to get out the bindings in time shouts at Akarot, “Leave him alone, you inhospitable devil!”

Akarot chuckles, reaches his hand over Beverly’s gasping body and sending black glowing tendrils into Beverly where some appear to be forming a dark circlet in his hair, “Hmmmm, it seems Moonshine, that I have picked up something a little more powerful than that trinket [gestures to the crown on her head]. Don’t worry. I’m just reuniting a family.” With that Akarot teleports out with Bev and the remaining dark knights.

“NOOOO!” Moonshine screams as she tries to cast any spells to bring them back. Hardwon’s and Maverus’ panicked shouts from below are the only things that pierce the veil of desperation, and with one last look where they disappeared, Moonshine descends to help.

As Hardwon’s hears Moonshine come down, he quickly looks and seeing only her ask, “Hey Moonshine, is Bev alright?”

When he doesn’t hear an answer right away, Hardwon looks back and sees tears silently streaming down her devastated face. Begging, Hardwon croaks out, “Moonshine, please, oh god Moonie. PLEASE, no. He’ll be fine. He’s GOING to be fine with th-that reviv-a-fy spell right?? *broken whisper* not my little brother too, PLEASE GODS.”

Choking on tears, Moonshine tries to say, “Please, Hardwon *harsh wet inhale* we-we need to fix this *shaky exhale* fo-for Bev”

“No *breaking* Moonie.”

Moonshine stands for a moment looking at the wreckage that has happened and some still crumbling parts of the castle, feeling like an absolute failure, that she should’ve done more to save Bev, that what’s the use of the Crown of Knowledge if it couldn’t help save The Heart. As Moonshine is feeling the lowest she has ever felt, she looks at Hardwon, Maverus, and the magic city horn wondering if they’ll be able to save everyone else, when she feels something like a warm summer breeze on her face that clears away the fog that was settling in. With a new rush on certainty, Moonshine knows she will save the city. For Bev. For the halfling of the greatest hospitality she has known, she will save the city.

When Hardwon realizes what Moonshine is saying without saying anything, he feels the air leave the room. It’s like he’s back in the Shadow Realm as a vampire. No hope, no need to breathe, no need to live. Just a worthless, unnecessary burden on the group. Watching the tears run down Moonshine’s face, Hardwon crashes to his knees as though someone had cut his strings. Hardwon pays no heed to the remaining enemies still in the room as his painfully small world comes crashing down once more.

All the while Hardwon is thinking, Why did it have to be Bev? Why not me? My life isn’t worth anything, he had everything to look forward to. He was going to be the One to save the world. I was never going to be anything more than a spare fighter. Why couldn’t I  haven’t taken his place?

Between the four of them, they are able to restore the enchantments to the castle so it is no longer in danger of falling, saving the day again. They try to regroup and Moonshine tries to tell them what happened upstairs to Beverly.

“Moonshine. Wha-what does this mean for Akarot taking Bev?”

“I-i.....I think Akarot took Bev alive because...please, Melora let this not be true... Akarot can bind Bev like in that one Alanis timeline and use Bev as-as a powerful weapon.”

“............FUCK. I don’t think I can fight him again... It was hard enough when Maribel controlled him, and he was nowhere NEAR as strong as he is now. Gods. Why couldn’t I have protected him more?”

“Hardwon.....what’s going to happen if the binding breaks after Akarot uses him?”

[marvelmymarvel]

When I Was Older...

Part 1/3

Captain!Intelligence!Lewis Nixon x Captain!Intelligence!Reader

Synopsis: Working side by side with the man you secretly love but openly hate is hard work. He tells you that your plans aren't smart, but he knows deep down that they are indeed lifesavers. But when he doesn't take your word and it winds up in 100 dead men, you two have an explosive fight, and words are said. Some were hurtful... Some were what you wanted to hear all along. 

Trigger Warning: Slight Depression (More like themes, deep sadness is more accurate), arguing, Lew is an ass. 

A/N: Okay listen lol. I know I’m obsessed with doing this to myself and musical imagines... So HERE I AM. Another one for you... And wow it's angst?? Who would have guessed?! (All of my followers blink slowly and nod at yet another Angsty piece of work “She’s at it again”). I have my 10 fics ready for the week so I hope you’re excited!! I am excited to give you this beautiful piece until tomorrow’s first fic at 3pm when Lipton's Wounded story is released. Kisses my loves.

Continue On: Part 2

Song: When I Was Older by Billie Eilish (Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0I4fD49Gbck) Lyrics are italicized, bolded, and in (parenthesis) : (Words).

(When I was older, I was a sailor on an open sea). Being an intelligence officer was something you aspired to be ever since you were a little girl, and you were the best one that the 506th had. You were brilliant, and every man in the 506th made you feel as such. Respecting you as if their life rested in your hands, which it very well did. Lew didn't like that though. “No Lew... They need to go this way, the enemy will expect them her-” “Y/n” He snarled out, cutting you off and stopping you in your tracks. “My plan will work... I don't need you telling me it won't” he spit out angrily towards you, making you sigh out furiously as you gripped onto the table.  (But now I’m underwater and my skin is paler). But Lew... Lew made you feel inadequate. Like you weren't smart enough to even mention something that could be life-saving. You shut down instead of speaking up once more. (Than it should ever be). You always felt like an idiot around him, but you never let it affect you... Until now. When asked by Sink if the plan you two just planned was adequate, you nodded instead of telling him that your gut told you wrong. Men were going to die. (Mhm....). You thrashed around in your bed that night. Thinking about all the men that will lose their lives, just because you couldn't stand up for yourself and push for them to see this mistake. Just because you loved Lewis Nixon. 

You stood above on the hill, watching as the men fought. (I'm on my back again). You inhaled shakily as you took a drag of your cigarette, your heart was racing faster than ever before... You couldn't help them now. (Dreaming of a time and place, where you and I remain the best of friends). You looked at Lew who was slightly in front of you, watching the men through his binoculars. You thought of how you and Lewis were best friends before you reached his rank with ease. You weren't from Yale. You weren't even from Harvard. You were just you. A brilliant mind that could save thousands... And yet, (Even after all this end), Lew somehow made you feel inadequate. Even after the war ended and the battles were won, you two would never, ever be as close as you used to be. (Can we pretend?). Exhaling shakily, you stepped forward, seeing the enemy tanks approaching. (I’m on my...). Just like you planned. (I’m on my back again). “I fucking told you Lewis” You snarled lowly as you stood next to him as he watched Dog company fly out of the trees. “WHO GAVE THEM THAT ORDER” Strayer screamed and you just rolled your eyes. Living... Living gave them that order to run. (It’s seeming more and more like all we ever do is see how far it bends). The tanks continued forward. All of those men. They would have been saved if he would have just listened. (Before it breaks in half and then). Now they were running for their lives. But would Lew listen to you next time? (We bend it back again). He glared at you before moving towards Strayer. Of course not. Almost 100 men died that day. All thanks to you. All thanks to him. 

(Guess I got caught in the middle of it). You hated him, yet you loved him. He made you feel so inadequate and normally, you would argue and fight. (Yes, I’ve been taught, got a little of it in my blood, in my blood). It was in your blood to fight your way to the top. You were raised to stand up for yourself. You wanted something? Fight. For. It. And yet, you failed your father. All for a man, who you loved. All for a man, who hated you. (Memories burn like a forest fire). Thoughts of him and you laughing while drinking at the bar back in Aldbourne burned into your body as you walked to your bedroom. (Heavy rain turns any funeral pyre to mud). Your tears were falling down your cheeks as you felt the loss of those men. (In the flood). You got into the room and slammed the door close, before sliding down it. Covering your mouth to suffocate the sob that was rising in your throat, you felt the guilt. (When I was older). You never wanted this as a little girl. You dreamed of saving lives. Not taking them. (I was a sailor). You cried out as you leaned forward in the dark, sobbing harder and harder with each passing second. You never wanted to be this. (But now I’m underwater). You felt like you were drowning like you couldn't break the surface and breathe. Choking on air, you tried to come down from the panic.  (And my skin is paler). This wasn't you. (Than it should ever be). 

But nowadays... 

Letting out one final sob, you put your head back against the door, looking up at the ceiling. 

It was.

You fell asleep on the floor. Waking up to the sound of someone knocking on the door, you looked out in front of you for a second. Feeling lost and broken, you didn't want to move. “Y/n” Dick called out and you sat up while rubbing your throbbing head. “I’m coming, Dick... Just give me a second” you whispered out as you began to stand up. “Y/n” he whispered through the door and you stopped, staring straight at it. “Can I come in?” He asked kindly, you nodded but realized he couldn't see you, instead you reached forward and opened the door. He saw your messy hair and puffy face, he knew you. He knew the minute everyone came back that you were going to go cry all alone in your room. He knew who did this to you... He hated how Lew showed his love... It was such a tough love. Something you of all people didn't deserve. Lew came around the corner just then and your face hardened at seeing his. Dick turned around towards his friend and sighed, “I think you two need to talk... Now” Dick hissed as he grabbed Lew and pushed him into your room. “Hey! We have work to do-” Lew began but Richard just cut him off with a hand. “You two have to work together, now. Talk Lew. I’ll tell Sink that I couldn't get either of you up in time. You have 20 minutes” and then, he was gone. Leaving just you and Lew in the room. (I’m watching movies back to back in black white). You crossed your arms waiting for him to start, but of course. He wouldn't. (I never seen anybody do it like I do it any better). “Why do you hate me” you stated softly. (Then going over you, I’m overdue for no endeavors). “I don't hate you” he grumbled and you just scoffed before stepping forward. (Nobody lonely like I’m lonely and I don't know whether). You felt his absence ever since you got to his rank, and you were tired of it. You missed him. But he couldn't get over himself. (You’d really like it in the limelight). But at the same time, you couldn't get over him. (You’d sympathize with all the bad guys). You stood there still. Waiting for him to make his next move. As an intelligence officer, you knew the enemies next moves, but Lew? Lew was different. (I’m still a victim in my own right). Lew's eyes shot angrily to yours. “You know that you’re not as good as you think you are?” he hissed and you felt your heart break a little. “Really?” You snapped back finally standing up for yourself “Who fucking trained me LEW” you screamed finally as you slammed your hand down on the table. (But I’m the villain in my own eyes, yeah). “You would be smarter if I trained you” he growled and you just snarkily laughed as you grabbed his collar. Yanking him down to your height. Your lips trembled and his heart broke. Why was he doing this to you? He loved you... (When I was older). “I have wanted this since I could talk Lewis Nixon” you whispered shakily, the anger flooding through your veins as you grew the balls to tell him how you really felt. (I was a sailor). “I am good at this... you know it, I know it.” you snarled as you gripped the collar tighter. He just stared at you blankly, not showing any hint of remorse or emotion for that matter. (On an open sea). “You will not make me feel inadequate or stupid... I know who I am. I know my worth. YOU. DONT.” You screamed in his face and you saw his eyes blink as you saw a fleeting emotion cross his eyes. Guilt? Regret? You didn't know. You didn't care. “And to think” you started up once more as you let go of his collar and walked to the door. “100 men died... Because I was hopelessly in love with a man... Who treats me like shit” you laughed out darkly. Lew’s heart stopped at hearing those words, part of the reason he was mean, was because he thought you didn't like him. It was easier. But now that he knew the truth... It was too late. You blinked away the tears as you opened the door. “I love you” he called out hoarsely making you pause in the door frame. You straightened your back up and turned towards him. A tear fell down your cheek as you mustered the strength to say the three words that resonated inside of you...

“I hate you.” 

The three words made Lew stop breathing as he felt the result of his actions. Turning, you left him there in the room. Heartbroken and shaken. He sat on your bed and rubbed his face. He couldn't hate you for those words... “I hate me too.” For he felt the same way. 

tags: @hell-itwasyou @desired-love-

[thedeadishscribe]

Sidestep/Ortega

My Fallen Hero fic is, more or less, finally done! It features my Sidestep, Rysen Adri, and his thoughts on post game Fallen Hero: Rebirth. I seem to be doing a lot of post games.

I’m probably gonna post this to ao3 later because formatting is a bitch.

Please, enjoy!

Love, the dead dude

Julia had asked a fair question—what did that kiss mean?

I’m not sure myself, all I knew is that hearing the name Rysen was sweeter than I cared to admit. Was that even my name anymore? Again, not sure. What the hell, exactly, was going on in my life? Ortega, John, Mortum, The Rangers. Ouroboros. The new name I had chosen. The thought came to me at the party, the classic description of a serpent devouring its own tail, often used to signify the cycles of the universe and the process of rebirth—and it felt right at the time—but it felt positively wonderful in the afterglow of the gala. Fitting as can be really. Reborn, baptized in flame, smoke, and blood. Definitely several bruises and broken bones. Hopefully no corpses.

An odd sentiment for a demon of Los Diablos.

          First I had considered ‘Mindflayer’, but it wasn’t exactly me, as menacing a choice as it would have been. ‘Demon’ would have been too cheesy, too on the nose. Can’t really remember what made me think of it, but it simply fit. Even now I savor it on my tongue. Ouroboros. That one news station somehow fucked it up into ‘aurabeesknees’, but they’re in the minority so I guess I can let them off the hook. May have to pay a visit at a later date, however.

          Her and I text, call, all the things kids do nowadays. I hate that I can’t get enough. Of her laugh, her smile, the damn way she seductively wiggles her eyebrows to make me blush. Fuck, I hate admitting I blush too. I’m supposed to be a damn villain, not an anime protagonist. Speaking of which, I haven’t checked up on that lately. Like at all. Been too busy with villainy things. Anime can be villainous, right? We all know the ones. Not gonna name names though, that wouldn’t be fair.

          Just skirting around my problems now though, as per usual. I keep meaning to bring up how I’ve changed (minus the specific details, of course), to say something, and yet every time I choke and bring out my classic comedic deflection bullshit instead. I’m almost entirely positive Ortega can see through that, she’s just gotten… more subtle and less brash. Well, ‘less brash’ isn’t a good way to put it. ‘More selective in her bullrushing’ is more apt. Selective dumbassery is still dumbassery. I should know, I started my own little dumbass enterprise, may as well make a sign to post around the city. I can see it now, ‘Dumbass Incorporated seeking henchs now, will provide free lunch, health, and dental’. That’ll really draw them in. You don’t see many villains offering dental anymore. Could be a real selling point for when I want to expand.

          Truth be told, I’m a fan of the whole angels and demons trope we’re playing out. Sure, being a hero is nice and all, but being bad simply feels so good. Clichés? As many as you want. Monologues? Not recommended, but certainly entertaining. The utter sense of power? Fantastic. Maniacal cackling? My favorite part. No really, there’s nothing like a good laugh over the beaten forms of your enemies.

Beaten.

          That’s right, I had beaten Julia… no, Charge, to a pulp. Herald first though, and then Lady Argent not quite as much. There’s a sense of guilt around the first two mentioned. Argent not so much. It felt good in the moment to finally feel an equal to that massive shadow that loomed over me, coddled me, treated me as glass. It felt so good to beat down that perfect picture of a hero with his own vanity in front of his adoring fans, the new guy that got everything I didn’t. Yet, I mangled the woman that I, well, I dare not use the word. Then after learning that Herald wasn’t just a fan of Sidestep, but that Sidestep was his idol? His hero (pardon the pun)? I didn’t think it would hit me this hard but Jesus-fucking-Christ. Just another person I let down. No. No, not me. Sidestep. Sidestep let him down. Ouroboros simply fought him. That’s all. No more, no less.

          Of course, that feels like a lie, though at the same time, it doesn’t? It was difficult enough trying to distinguish Rysen from John sometimes—if Rysen even truly existed anymore—but now I have to differentiate three personas. Four if you included Sidestep, but they are firmly dead and gone. The exhibit, or rather lack thereof, is proof enough of that. I wonder how Ortega feels about it. Angry that someone defiled the memory of the former hero? Motivated for pay back? Does she not care? That would almost feel the worst, and I don’t know why, and I hate it.

God, I can hear her words now, ‘Don’t say you hate things so much, it’ll make you ugly on the inside’. Well guess-fucking-what, Julia. I’m ugly on the inside now. Or have I always been? Everything’s kind of a blur since Heartbreak, which is a long time. Seven years now, more like seven and a half. Yet it all felt like nothing. A bittersweet blob of memory, oddly enough. Incredibly bittersweet.

Should I ask her out on a date? She had promised one. Would that be going too far, however? Too close? Too prone to liability? I’m already in the position, what’s the threat of a little more tragedy in the already turbulent storm? Villains thrive on tragedy, right? Why am I asking so many questions? Too many already.

Fuck it, I’m gonna ask her. Not over the phone, that seems a tad disingenuous. When she asked me to the gala she asked me to meet in person, I should do the same. I’m sure as hell not going to the Rangers HQ. Don’t want to give myself away, let alone the fact that I’d feel like I was asking Steel if Ortega was home and if I could talk to her as if he were her dad. ‘Excuse me, Mr.Chen, is Julia home?’. As team leader was he the dad of the troop? Herald’s the baby and Argent the angsty teen, so definitely. Dear gods, Steel’s a father. Devils help us all. He certainly has the glare down.

I still miss him oddly enough. Not enough to give up my life of crime and don Sidestep’s mask once more. Hell no. I’m not even sure if it’s still in one piece. I’m not sure I want to know.

          Would I do it for Ortega though? As much as I’d love to help, I can’t, I just can’t. Y’know, aside from being a villain now and all, I just… couldn’t. The thought of feeling that thin nanomesh over my form alone made me want to chuck my skin like a meatbag alias. I guess in my position it really is a meatbag alias that I can toss aside whenever I so wish. Rysen and John. I often wonder what would happen if I just decided to live in John full time. What would happen if Rysen were to die while I were inhabiting John’s body. Would I—my consciousness that is—die? Would I just be stuck in a head blind body for the rest of said body’s life? Become him in every sense of the word. I don’t see why not, not that I’m seriously considering it or anything. Though the thought of resigning to a life of underworld business alongside Doctor Mortum isn’t half bad. Not one bit.

          Sometimes dating Mortum as John and trying to respark the old flame with Ortega as Rysen at the same time feels wrong, feels weird, but then I remember that Ortega was flirting with both John and Rysen at the same time, so I guess that totally excuses bad behavior. Definitely. I mean, she’s the master of flings, or at least was. It’s an interesting debate if nothing else. When I’m playing John, I’m still me and yet not. I’m john. John’s even developed his own mannerisms and behaviors, things Rysen would never do or wouldn’t even think of. I suppose this is like how superheroes have their hero and civilian identities. Both are just as real, right? And functionally they’re different people. This is way too much like way too many science-fiction pieces on the self and personal identity. I take ghost in the shell to an entirely other, meaty level

          But boy oh boy, Los Dioblos, hold onto your pants; you’ve heard of the double identity, I now present the triple identity! Groundbreaking, truly. Worn down, tired and retired telepath. Villain representative who just wants to keep his boss happy, hoping to get his cake and eat it too. Then finally the villain himself, Ouroboros, mastermind behind the impossibly elaborate plans. Ok, no one knows Ouroboros is a he, but that’s a good thing. The longer they’re all guessing, the better. I thought balancing Rysen and John was difficult, but Rysen, John, and Ouroboros? Son of a bitch, I didn’t know one person could get this tired. Thank the universe for coffee. Lots of cream lots of sugar preferred, but I’m not too terribly picky in a pinch, I already buy the cheap shit as is. Cheap ol’ Rysen. Yep. That’s me.

I keep talking about all these different identities, and yet I keep coming back to Rysen. Rysen. Rysen. Fuckin’ Rysen. I’m beginning to grow tired of the name. After… everything, I fully expected to shove off that particular shell of a man when I made my debut. I was apparently wrong. He keeps coming after me like a damn ghost. Ortega coming back into the mix certainly didn’t help, any chance of falling off the map died with her recognizing me in the diner. Oh well, I suppose, no plan survives first contact. I should really be surprised it didn’t all snag sooner. A lot sooner. Oh, but what a snag. That jawline, those lips, and gods above, those biceps.

She gives excellent hugs. Yep. That’s definitely what I like about them. The only thing.

          It was only recently that I realized a good memory I often draw upon—one of my few good memories—was that of Ortega kissing me after a particularly hard fight. She almost always initiated, and one time she even used her sparkles to shock my own lips ever so gently. I miss that sensation, funny enough, even if it was only the once. And, despite the fact that she always looked at me like I was fragile, she gave me this look like I was wanted. Like I belonged. Another thing I hate to admit, but I belong in her arms.

Fuck, what am I thinking? I shouldn’t allow myself to think like that, and yet such was the tendency of any good snag.

One other thing I hate to admit to myself—I love her. Son of a bitch, I always loved her, and I regret never telling her.

          I don’t think I could work up the courage to tell her though. Not then, not now, not ever. Aside from not being able to afford it, I don’t have the guts. Attacking a gala with some of Los Diablos’ richest and finest? No problem, just give me some time to plan. Facing a woman significantly larger than me on a date, looking at me with a sweetness in her eye? Nah nah nah nah nah. No way. Can’t do it. I’m weak, absolutely weak. Positively weak.

I hate myself.

          Julia doesn’t want me talking like that, she already made me promise to see a shrink, but she’s not here, inside my head walking down the street to get a cup of sweet, sweet addiction. She can’t dictate my self-talk. Except myself no one can. I doubt it will change any time soon, therapy or no. I hope the couch is comfy enough though. They always look comfy in the movies and on tv. Teary eyed tortured souls letting out their deepest secrets to some stranger taking notes on their entire life. Ew. Probably won’t tell them about the whole villain thing. I wouldn’t go at all and lie about it if I knew Julia would keep tabs on me and make sure I went. She’d probably drag me there herself. She always did care like that.

Oh well, she won’t leave me alone; but that’s a good thing, right? Because damn, what a kiss.

[deadpoet117]

Ohoho

It’s finally “done”! My Fallen Hero Sidestep fic! This take place between Rebirth and Retribution I haven’t played the alpha/beta pls don’t spoil or be angry. I might post it on my ao3 in the relative future because formatting is a bitch and I don’t feel like it.

Enjoy!

Julia had asked a fair question—what did that kiss mean?

I’m not sure myself, all I knew is that hearing the name Rysen was sweeter than I cared to admit. Was that even my name anymore? Again, not sure. What the hell, exactly, was going on in my life? Ortega, John, Mortum, The Rangers. Ouroboros. The new name I had chosen. The thought came to me at the party, the classic description of a serpent devouring its own tail, often used to signify the cycles of the universe and the process of rebirth—and it felt right at the time—but it felt positively wonderful in the afterglow of the gala. Fitting as can be really. Reborn, baptized in flame, smoke, and blood. Definitely several bruises and broken bones. Hopefully no corpses.

An odd sentiment for a demon of Los Diablos.

          First I had considered ‘Mindflayer’, but it wasn’t exactly me, as menacing a choice as it would have been. ‘Demon’ would have been too cheesy, too on the nose. Can’t really remember what made me think of it, but it simply fit. Even now I savor it on my tongue. Ouroboros. That one news station somehow fucked it up into ‘aurabeesknees’, but they’re in the minority so I guess I can let them off the hook. May have to pay a visit at a later date, however.

          Her and I text, call, all the things kids do nowadays. I hate that I can’t get enough. Of her laugh, her smile, the damn way she seductively wiggles her eyebrows to make me blush. Fuck, I hate admitting I blush too. I’m supposed to be a damn villain, not an anime protagonist. Speaking of which, I haven’t checked up on that lately. Like at all. Been too busy with villainy things. Anime can be villainous, right? We all know the ones. Not gonna name names though, that wouldn’t be fair.

          Just skirting around my problems now though, as per usual. I keep meaning to bring up how I’ve changed (minus the specific details, of course), to say something, and yet every time I choke and bring out my classic comedic deflection bullshit instead. I’m almost entirely positive Ortega can see through that, she’s just gotten… more subtle and less brash. Well, ‘less brash’ isn’t a good way to put it. ‘More selective in her bullrushing’ is more apt. Selective dumbassery is still dumbassery. I should know, I started my own little dumbass enterprise, may as well make a sign to post around the city. I can see it now, ‘Dumbass Incorporated seeking henchs now, will provide free lunch, health, and dental’. That’ll really draw them in. You don’t see many villains offering dental anymore. Could be a real selling point for when I want to expand.

          Truth be told, I’m a fan of the whole angels and demons trope we’re playing out. Sure, being a hero is nice and all, but being bad simply feels so good. Clichés? As many as you want. Monologues? Not recommended, but certainly entertaining. The utter sense of power? Fantastic. Maniacal cackling? My favorite part. No really, there’s nothing like a good laugh over the beaten forms of your enemies.

Beaten.

          That’s right, I had beaten Julia… no, Charge, to a pulp. Herald first though, and then Lady Argent not quite as much. There’s a sense of guilt around the first two mentioned. Argent not so much. It felt good in the moment to finally feel an equal to that massive shadow that loomed over me, coddled me, treated me as glass. It felt so good to beat down that perfect picture of a hero with his own vanity in front of his adoring fans, the new guy that got everything I didn’t. Yet, I mangled the woman that I, well, I dare not use the word. Then after learning that Herald wasn’t just a fan of Sidestep, but that Sidestep was his idol? His hero (pardon the pun)? I didn’t think it would hit me this hard but Jesus-fucking-Christ. Just another person I let down. No. No, not me. Sidestep. Sidestep let him down. Ouroboros simply fought him. That’s all. No more, no less.

          Of course, that feels like a lie, though at the same time, it doesn’t? It was difficult enough trying to distinguish Rysen from John sometimes—if Rysen even truly existed anymore—but now I have to differentiate three personas. Four if you included Sidestep, but they are firmly dead and gone. The exhibit, or rather lack thereof, is proof enough of that. I wonder how Ortega feels about it. Angry that someone defiled the memory of the former hero? Motivated for pay back? Does she not care? That would almost feel the worst, and I don’t know why, and I hate it.

God, I can hear her words now, ‘Don’t say you hate things so much, it’ll make you ugly on the inside’. Well guess-fucking-what, Julia. I’m ugly on the inside now. Or have I always been? Everything’s kind of a blur since Heartbreak, which is a long time. Seven years now, more like seven and a half. Yet it all felt like nothing. A bittersweet blob of memory, oddly enough. Incredibly bittersweet.

Should I ask her out on a date? She had promised one. Would that be going too far, however? Too close? Too prone to liability? I’m already in the position, what’s the threat of a little more tragedy in the already turbulent storm? Villains thrive on tragedy, right? Why am I asking so many questions? Too many already.

Fuck it, I’m gonna ask her. Not over the phone, that seems a tad disingenuous. When she asked me to the gala she asked me to meet in person, I should do the same. I’m sure as hell not going to the Rangers HQ. Don’t want to give myself away, let alone the fact that I’d feel like I was asking Steel if Ortega was home and if I could talk to her as if he were her dad. ‘Excuse me, Mr.Chen, is Julia home?’. As team leader was he the dad of the troop? Herald’s the baby and Argent the angsty teen, so definitely. Dear gods, Steel’s a father. Devils help us all. He certainly has the glare down.

I still miss him oddly enough. Not enough to give up my life of crime and don Sidestep’s mask once more. Hell no. I’m not even sure if it’s still in one piece. I’m not sure I want to know.

          Would I do it for Ortega though? As much as I’d love to help, I can’t, I just can’t. Y’know, aside from being a villain now and all, I just… couldn’t. The thought of feeling that thin nanomesh over my form alone made me want to chuck my skin like a meatbag alias. I guess in my position it really is a meatbag alias that I can toss aside whenever I so wish. Rysen and John. I often wonder what would happen if I just decided to live in John full time. What would happen if Rysen were to die while I were inhabiting John’s body. Would I—my consciousness that is—die? Would I just be stuck in a head blind body for the rest of said body’s life? Become him in every sense of the word. I don’t see why not, not that I’m seriously considering it or anything. Though the thought of resigning to a life of underworld business alongside Doctor Mortum isn’t half bad. Not one bit.

          Sometimes dating Mortum as John and trying to respark the old flame with Ortega as Rysen at the same time feels wrong, feels weird, but then I remember that Ortega was flirting with both John and Rysen at the same time, so I guess that totally excuses bad behavior. Definitely. I mean, she’s the master of flings, or at least was. It’s an interesting debate if nothing else. When I’m playing John, I’m still me and yet not. I’m john. John’s even developed his own mannerisms and behaviors, things Rysen would never do or wouldn’t even think of. I suppose this is like how superheroes have their hero and civilian identities. Both are just as real, right? And functionally they’re different people. This is way too much like way too many science-fiction pieces on the self and personal identity. I take ghost in the shell to an entirely other, meaty level

          But boy oh boy, Los Dioblos, hold onto your pants; you’ve heard of the double identity, I now present the triple identity! Groundbreaking, truly. Worn down, tired and retired telepath. Villain representative who just wants to keep his boss happy, hoping to get his cake and eat it too. Then finally the villain himself, Ouroboros, mastermind behind the impossibly elaborate plans. Ok, no one knows Ouroboros is a he, but that’s a good thing. The longer they’re all guessing, the better. I thought balancing Rysen and John was difficult, but Rysen, John, and Ouroboros? Son of a bitch, I didn’t know one person could get this tired. Thank the universe for coffee. Lots of cream lots of sugar preferred, but I’m not too terribly picky in a pinch, I already buy the cheap shit as is. Cheap ol’ Rysen. Yep. That’s me.

I keep talking about all these different identities, and yet I keep coming back to Rysen. Rysen. Rysen. Fuckin’ Rysen. I’m beginning to grow tired of the name. After… everything, I fully expected to shove off that particular shell of a man when I made my debut. I was apparently wrong. He keeps coming after me like a damn ghost. Ortega coming back into the mix certainly didn’t help, any chance of falling off the map died with her recognizing me in the diner. Oh well, I suppose, no plan survives first contact. I should really be surprised it didn’t all snag sooner. A lot sooner. Oh, but what a snag. That jawline, those lips, and gods above, those biceps.

She gives excellent hugs. Yep. That’s definitely what I like about them. The only thing.

          It was only recently that I realized a good memory I often draw upon—one of my few good memories—was that of Ortega kissing me after a particularly hard fight. She almost always initiated, and one time she even used her sparkles to shock my own lips ever so gently. I miss that sensation, funny enough, even if it was only the once. And, despite the fact that she always looked at me like I was fragile, she gave me this look like I was wanted. Like I belonged. Another thing I hate to admit, but I belong in her arms.

Fuck, what am I thinking? I shouldn’t allow myself to think like that, and yet such was the tendency of any good snag.

One other thing I hate to admit to myself—I love her. Son of a bitch, I always loved her, and I regret never telling her.

          I don’t think I could work up the courage to tell her though. Not then, not now, not ever. Aside from not being able to afford it, I don’t have the guts. Attacking a gala with some of Los Diablos’ richest and finest? No problem, just give me some time to plan. Facing a woman significantly larger than me on a date, looking at me with a sweetness in her eye? Nah nah nah nah nah. No way. Can’t do it. I’m weak, absolutely weak. Positively weak.

I hate myself.

          Julia doesn’t want me talking like that, she already made me promise to see a shrink, but she’s not here, inside my head walking down the street to get a cup of sweet, sweet addiction. She can’t dictate my self-talk. Except myself no one can. I doubt it will change any time soon, therapy or no. I hope the couch is comfy enough though. They always look comfy in the movies and on tv. Teary eyed tortured souls letting out their deepest secrets to some stranger taking notes on their entire life. Ew. Probably won’t tell them about the whole villain thing. I wouldn’t go at all and lie about it if I knew Julia would keep tabs on me and make sure I went. She’d probably drag me there herself. She always did care like that.

Oh well, she won’t leave me alone; but that’s a good thing, right? Because damn, what a kiss.

[merlinthoughts]

Season 1 Episode 4 - The Poisoned Chalice

- god fucking dammit here we go again, i'm bloody done with my life and do not, at all, want to see merlin die bc i don't remember anything except that, yeah, he dies and someone has to get off their ass and save the motherfucking day and kiss him

- i realise how much i swear in these posts bc 1. when do i not? 2. i'm emotionally invested 3. i have no other excuse i just like swearing

- AAAND NIMUEHS IN CAMELOT SHE THINKS SHE'S SO SLY WITH HER HEAD THING

- id recognise her in a split second tbfh, she aint subtle

- *heterosexual tension*

- merlins skin be looking so smooth this episode, this boy be wearing lots of Dove

- he looked so excited to be in the banquet, then arthur just fucking slashes him with “not quite” and his hopes and dreams are destroyed

- “wanna see what you’ll be wearing tonight?” arthur says as he's behind the fucking changing curtains, about to get undressed and show merlin his birthday suit

- i honest to god thought that was where he was going, but no, he was just getting something from behind it

- “tonight you’ll be wearing the official ceremonial robes of the servants of camelot” IT'S A FUCKING DRESS ISN'T IT

- aw damn id have preferred a dress

- that smile shared between them was the most adorable scene

- god

- i

- fucking

- love

- their

- smiles 

- sm

- best thing ive ever seen

- i mean… hunty look at that piece of glistening butter beauty

- wow ok back to the episode:

- bros being bros and giving each other a handshake to destroy the mortal enemy pack and put together a family, we stan.

- as if a servant who has only had eye sex with another servant ONCE would trust them enough to say that one of the chalices were poisoned. like??? “ur the only one i could tell” LMAO NO?

- she's a sly fucking dog tfbh

- “if he kills arthur, uthers soul will be broken and camelot will fall” at this rate uther prob wouldn't care if his son dies or not, look at him, he's already mentally broken. he has anxiety and paranoia over magic. child services where u at in the medieval ages?

- i wouldn't believe a word she said, or well, id have believed it was poisoned but id say yeah no damn way you aren't in on it if you know which one it is. bayard wouldn't tell a fucking servant.

- HE'S GONNA SNAP ISN'T HE

- MERLIN FUCKING SNAPPED

- yknow what we say here folks? U DO U MERLIN

- okay i was fine if uther made bayard drink it but like the moment uther said “mmmh… no.” and slowly turned to merlin i think my arteries just crunched together and died so

- “if it is poisoned, he’ll die” HE'S FUCKING SCARED MERLIN WILL PASS AWAY ISN'T HE?

- “it's fine” he says, then starts to fucking choke

- ah fuck he's down

- my boy is down

- FUCK ME SIDEWAYS WITH A CHAINSAW

- ARTHUR CROUCHES NEXT TO HIM LIKE “BB NO”

- lmfao bayard looks so shocked, his face is in disbelief and confusion, he's like who tf done me bad

- arthurs carrying merlin fireman style this is what i live for folks

- did like nobody notice the flower stuck on the inside of the cup? like honestly if you take a sip you’d kinda spot it or perhaps even the person pouring the drinks would have been “is this chamomile tea? no? then what the fuckery-doo is this leaf in here for?” yknow. it's like that scene in Matilda when the angry buff lady completely missed a fucking salamander in her cup when it was the size of her bloody hand. it brings out the same mood honestly

- does gaius have an index for these books or does he just have every page memorised and know exactly what page to go bc I FUCKING NEED THAT it would make bio so much easier if i knew what page it was on instead of looking back and forth from the homework sheet to my textbook, then closing it by accident and having to find the index again for that specific page i need

- arthur wants to fucking go on a life-or-death journey to save merlin i've never been so happy

- this is honestly my favourite episode, like it may be really fucking angsty but i love it so much

- arthur betrays his dad and leaves his room even after being told not to just so he can save a servants life is literally my new moto

- NO IT WON'T LOAD MY NETFLIX IS STUCK ON 99%

- okay so while i'm waiting for my shit to load, i just discovered the new fucking tumblr rule starting dec 17 and i'm like 0.2 inches away from just spamming NSFW pics on here just for laughs

- like hunty, that won't stop people from posting elsewhere or for thinking about sex bc like??? whatchu gonna do tumblr?? get the fbi to erase it from our minds

- i think nOT thot

- watch me get flagged for just using the fucking term “NSFW”

- i'm gonna end up asterisking everything (is asterisking a word? wow it has red under it so like probably not but i just added it to my dictionary so uhh it is now)

- by asterisking i dont mean furry kin shit ew no

- i mean like N*FW, s*x, t*mblr, m*rthur

- god it took me like 20 minutes to calibrate my fucking wifi and fix the connection problem

- wow the stage for the poison increased by 75% in 30 mins, damn

- merlins like like having a conniption on his bed lmao, chanting arthurs name and sweating lot

- do we ever find out how uther gets that scar bc i'm like 100% positive arthur was a little child and swayed his fucking sword too hard just as uther rounded the corner. the sword then collided into his fucking brain and destroyed a good part of his intelligence, targeting especially his morals on how to accept people and how to be a good father

- that’s my theory

- merlin starts talking enchantments in his sleep while gwens watching, and gaius is just there like wtf merlin ur blowing ur cover “oh! gwen!! uhhh sorry. he’s just... in a latin study group in his pastime and has an oral presentation in minutes”

- omg, nimueh, stfu

- i didn't know dinosaurs existed back then, this reptile be whack

- y’know what's funny? ppl thinking dinosaurs didn’t exist. i find creationism very very very intriguing bc how fucking stupid could you be

- that sword throw was faker than my moms tits

- arthur could have done better

- k but like what if merlin’s hand wasn’t under the covers? like he was just throwing that blue ball around right in front of gwen

- can arthur like not hear her? nimuehs literally enchanting the rocks right behind his ear lobes and arthur acts nothing of it until those said rocks collapse and he gasps and suddenly he realises shes evil

- also his fucking hair in this scene looks glorious. perhaps bc it's pushed back rather than his bowl cut, but its doing things to my abdomen

- i thought for a second she was pulling off her mask to say “nimueh” and arthur was gasping bc he only recognised her after her hair was shown, just like in that scene with joker and harvey in the hospital

- OH RIGHT THE SPIDERS I LIKE COMPLETELY FORGOT ABOUT THOSE SONS OF A GUNS

- i’d be dead if those spiders came crawling up to eat me lmfao

- k so nimueh went from :) to >:D in half a second

- i'm smelling up those symbolisms, boys

- watch out pals cause here are some of them:

- merlin is the LIGHT of arthur’s life

- he LIGHTS up the party

- he gives arthur a BRIGHTER future

- he's the GUIDE for his path

- hahhahahaha

- i'm serious when i say i have a huge fear of insects (spiders count in that too, no discrimination) so i'm just putting that there, saying to yall id be fucking terrified

- gaius would be so confused, like we don't see his face here but merlins close-up sweaty concentrated frown, but he’s literally just screaming “ARTHUR!!” “FASTERRR!!” “YESS!!” “CLIMB!!!” gaius would be looking like he walked into something he wasn't supposed to. prob thinking he should just let the kid die so he doesn’t have to deal with this shit anymore

- UTHER LOCKED HIS SON AWAY I'M FUCKING QUESTIONING HIS PARENTING SKILLS

- that's grounding???? throwing ur child in prison???

- yes 999 can i have child services on his ass

- gwens so smart honestly i love her

- pretending to be a maiden for the food, god what a queen

- arthur buying it and saying “yuck you say this is food?! disgustang!”

- the fact that i misspelled disgusting but it autocorrected to disgustang (which is originally what i wanted but autocorrect shouldn’t have known) makes me consider if i should really check my dictionary…. who knows what words are on there

- they’re so smart

- and then this fucker ruins it all while eating his food, checking her out and saying yeah arthurs a prick, hyuck hyuck, realising only that wait fuck u aint the maiden

- how’d they know GWEN was the one not supposed to have delivered the food, what if it was that chick right there???

- welll….. maybe it's because gwen took her sweet time up those steps, staring as if she couldn’t blink at the guards below

- i forget what happens at the end of this episode besides the kiss, and there's like 9 minutes left my fingers may rot at this point

- wake him up! wake him up!

- OH WAIT HE DOESN'T FUCKING WAKE UP DOES HE AND EVERYONE PANICS

- YEAH OKAY I'M SEEING THAT NOW

- MERLIN STOPPED BREATHING

- LMAO GWEN IS IN TEARS

- “HE'S DEAD” SHE SAYS

- ARTHUR BB COME IN HERE TO KISS UR HUBBY ALIVE

- OH WAIT UR IN FUCKING PRISON

- WAIT UP, HE'S ALIVE AND SHE KISSES HIM AFTERWARDS????

- FUCK ME I THOUGHT FOR THE WHOLE EPISODE THE KISS HAPPENED BC HE COULDN'T WAKE UP THAT'S FUCKING WITH ME I DIDN'T KNOW

- i keep forgetting to switch up the cap locks, sorry if it seems im screaming im legit using my inside voice for most of the time just emphasizing my words a little more

- goddamn, everytime they say mercia i just think of “murica”, like those americans on the 7th of july or whatever date the “we love our country” day is, chanting it as they throw around beers and fireworks as people gather round in jerseys or crop tops

- it's not that hard to spot the european on here

- the most celebrated holiday here which contains a lot of beers and big pub gatherings (besides every fucking night honestly) is either new years, lowkey stereotypically correct saint patricks, and ig easter monday but that's more for the kiddos

- i mean ofc christmas and all that shit but im not the most devoted christian, i just like presents and small gatherings among good friends

- wow okay it wasn't the 7th of july

- i mean at first i looked up “USA day” (i couldn’t remember the name) and it popped up today’s date, and i was like no thats not it at all. dec?? its in like july i think. and i was close! it was july 4th.

- uther damn knows it's nimueh!!!

- i mean, he just overheard morgana and arthur talk about it, and initiated himself into a convo about it once morgana left, as his sneaky ass just slithered up like “hey man, u know that woman? yeah uhh, what she say? anything about me? no? k i know who it is tho”

- i thought he was going to apologize or like explain to arthur what's the sitch, but he just waits for five whole seconds before saying. “those who practice magic know only evil. they despise and seek to destroy goodness wherever they find it.”

- arthur, confused: sounds as if you know her

- uther, walking away: i do

- arthur:

- wow k lots of fucking quotes here cause it's the merthur reunion

- get ready babs

- arthur: still alive then?

- merlin: oh yes, just about… i understand i have you to thank for that

- arthur, leaning on the chair merlin is sitting in, stifling a smile: ah it's nothing, a half-decent servant is hard to come by. i was only dropping by to make sure you’re alright… i.... expect you to be back to work tomorrow

- merlin, watching arthur as he slightly walks away having embarrassed himself: arthur... thank you

- arthur, slowly: you too

- they stare for like 5 whole seconds

- arthur, uncomfortable: well… get some rest

- there we go folks: my eulogy.

- hope someone reads it at my funeral