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yandere-daydreams · 4 years

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Title: Dissonance.

Word Count: 3.0k

Commissioned by the lovely @arthurtheghostmechanic.

[Part One]

TW: Kidnapping, Captivity, Emotional Manipulation, Unhealthy Power Dynamics, Non-Graphic Violence, and Suffocation.

Every morning, Diavolo would help you get dressed.

It was a daily ritual, one that’d begun the first time you’d shown more interest in burning his gifts than wearing them, and he’d realized he liked the way you squirmed as his fingers brushed against your collarbone, his palms pressing against the dip of your back and his hands tracing the shape of your waist under the guise of fastening a row of clasps that’d been sewn in more for exorbity than security. You supposed this was how he intended to ‘court’ you, as he put it, or it was his favorite method, at least. The others came and went, and although he still occasionally took the time to bring you flowers from the castle’s garden or refuse to feed you at all until you let him feed you by hand, he always had an outfit waiting for you by the time you woke up, he always knew exactly how he wanted you to look, and he always helped you get dressed. Always. It was one of the few constants you could count on, with a man as busy as Diavolo.

Today, he was taking his time. Swabs of silky, scarlet fabric had already been draped over your form and adorned with just the right amount of black and gold to outweigh any individuality you might have retained, and yet, you could still feel warm breath ghost over your skin as he toyed with the strings of an already-bound corset, making you unsure whether he was still contemplating how to perfect it, or if he wanted to undo the intricate knots altogether. You could easily step away, finished or not. He’d positioned you to face a full-body mirror, one of the many scattered around the corners of his bedroom, but there was space, and he wouldn’t stop you, you were sure he wouldn’t stop you. Of all the things he was willing to do, raising a hand was where he drew the line, even if your stubborn neutrality often left him gritting his teeth and appealing to your sense of defeatism. It should’ve been a reassurance, it should’ve been a god-send, but in practice, his self-restraint only made you feel like the villain. If he wasn’t going to shove you away, then you’d have to shy back on your own. And if you did that, then you’d be the one to blame for his subsequent disappointment.

So, you stayed in place, glared at the floor, and wordlessly willed him to grow tired of watching you squirm sooner, instead of later.

Diavolo, however, was not as content with the silence as you were.

“You’ve been quiet, today,” He started, unprompted, unasked for. There couldn’t have been classes, that day. Clearly, he didn’t have anything better to do than draw your suffering out. “Is something wrong, my love?”

You could’ve told the truth. It would’ve been easy to, but there was some twisted, contorted part of you that still thought of Diavolo as someone distant, someone you shouldn’t upset, if only because it was so difficult to dampen his spirits, and he seemed so determined to keep them up. Even after he’d taken you away from the brothers, taken you away from the life you’d wanted, locked you into a gilded cage, and told you to sing for him, you still had to remind yourself to hate him. Fearing him was second nature, but loathing him was another burden entirely. Rather than spouting out the obvious, you let your eyes wander, past the mirror and to the well-decorated wall that lay beyond it. “I’ve been… with you for two weeks, and I haven’t seen anyone besides you and Barbatos,” You starters, letting your gaze fall onto a portrait of a young boy with gold eyes and crimson hair. It had to be Daivolo, but that wasn’t the surprising part - there was only Diavolo. No parents, father or otherwise, a theme that carried into many of the other decorative pieces, as you were beginning to notice. “Is it just the two of you?”

“Is that what’s been bothering you?” He chuckled, shrugging off your flat tone with all of his usual carelessness. If it was a sensitive topic, you couldn’t tell, but you could never tell, not with Diavolo. You’ve only seen him truly, genuinely affected a handful of times, and you doubted something as simple as a conversation would be the thing to finally leave a permanent impact. “If you’re worried there might be a lack of guests, don’t be. The only reason you haven’t met a diplomat or an ambassador or someone new and exciting is because of our budding arrangement.” He said it as if it were nothing, as if you’d just signed yourself into a contract you had yet to realize the full scope of. In his eyes, you might’ve. You were still trying to work out what exactly Diavolo thought your ‘arrangement’ was. “I thought it would be best to give you time. Humans can be such fickle creatures, and not all demons are as understanding as I am. I don’t want you saying the wrong thing to the wrong person while you’re still new to playing host.”

You should’ve known better than to press. You should’ve, but you pushed forward regardless, another singular pair of eyes in another all-but empty portrait working to spur you forward, despite your better judgment. “Still, you’re only a prince. Your father--”

“My father is asleep.” He spoke with the calm, practiced tone of someone who’d used the same excuse one too many times, of a child, scared and alone, trying to convince himself of something he didn’t really believe. “He has been, since the day he decided I was capable of ruling on my own, and while I’d be honored, I doubt he’s going to disturb his slumber to meet my chosen mate. He’s not a factor you should concern yourself with, darling.”

You were beginning to think there was nothing you should concern yourself with, not here, not when Diavolo thought of himself as so honorably, valiantly reliable. You hadn’t thought you’d miss that, about life with the brothers. You were left exhausted more often than not, in over your head with Mammon’s scheme’s or Lucifer’s standards or the twins’ insatiable habits, but at least you’d had enough to do to warrant exhaustion. You never thought you’d long to trip over a cursed book on the floor of Satan’s bedroom or find the door to Leviathan’s room blocked off by a dozen too many boxes, and yet, you found yourself waiting for it, sometimes, listening for an out of place scream, anticipating the next crisis. Diavolo said it was too much strain, for you. He said you shouldn’t be held responsible for a family so unpredictable.

He didn’t think you could handle it, so he sought out a way to handle you.

You bit down on the inside of your cheek. “That sounds lonely.”

There was a slight pause, a hint at a trace of hesitation. The closest thing you’d come to one, during your time with Diavolo. “It was.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Taking kind of prolonged stillness was unlike him, but Diavolo managed to redeem himself with a heavy sigh, a shake of his head, an arm wrapped around your waist as he slumped gingerly against you, leaning down as he slotted himself against your back. It was a heavy sort of tenderness, the type a desperate man might seek from a remorseless stone pillar, but your resolve felt a little less solid with every drum of his fingertips, every shaky breath he let echo against the back of your neck. You were the one to speak, though. If only to stop yourself from breaking first. “And that’s why I’m here, right?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Because you’re lonely?”

You felt him stiffen against you, going rigid at the suggestion alone. “(Y/n), I never--”

“You have other people.” It was more frustration than anger, the sudden awareness that you’d been taken by him, because of him, for him, despite all the luxurious, loving ways he tried to dress it up. “Your father might be gone, but you have options. There’s an academy full of students who’d be happy to find themselves at your side, there’s a kingdom of subjects you could choose from, if you wanted to. Is that why you ran the exchange program? You just didn’t have enough options, you wanted to see what the other realms had to offer. Were you going to kidnap Solomon, if I wasn’t good enough?”

“I wasn’t looking for company,” He countered, his hold becoming a little more secure, growing a little more controlling. It was oppressive, one arm crossed over your stomach and the other over your chest, making it more difficult to inhale as you struggled to keep your breathing even, but somehow, his affection did little to comfort you. If anything, it just made you want to rip yourself away from him more. “When I found you, I wanted you. There’s no one else I’d consider--”

“You have Barbatos,” You went on, letting your hands curl into fists at your sides. “He’s your friend, and you have him, and you shouldn’t need me, too. Even if that wasn’t enough for you, Lucifer’s still there. He looks up to you, he’s loyal to you, if there was anything you needed, he’d go to the ends of the Earth to find it. You have him--”

“I used to have him,” Diavolo hissed, the words nearly muffled against the nape of your neck. “I had him, once, but it seems that someone has caused his attention to stray.”

Your jaw clenched shut, instantly, but you made a point of narrowing your eyes at his reflection. It was a small rebellion, one he barely seemed to notice, but it felt too right for you to really care about whether or not he deserved it. “I’m sorry,” You muttered, frantic irritation fading into mild, blatant displeasure. “I didn’t realize how much you hated it when your toys find other people to play with.”

Diavolo went tense. He went tense, he took in a sharp breath, closed his eyes, and with little more fanfare than that, he relaxed again, as calm and composed and infuriating as he always was.

This time, when his attention returned to your attire, it centered around the ribbon choker around the base of your neck, the fabric as soft as a newborn lamb and as dark as the Devildom would be, in the dead of night. His fingers slipped underneath the strip of material, and for a moment, you thought he’d tear it off completely, but he’d never been that kind.

Rather, he took his time, untying the loose knot and speaking, as he did so. You were beginning to hope he’d talk himself to death.

“Lucifer’s interests align with his heart. He’s smart, and I do value him, but he’s a sentimental creature. He only pledged himself to me because of Lilith, and now that you’ve given him something of Lilith, he’s satisfied. He doesn’t have a need for me, anymore.” The choker was pulled taunt, for a moment, cutting you off halfway through an inhale. It wasn’t suffocating, but Diavolo made no move to let go. “And while Barbatos will always be my closest companion, he is a servant. His loyalty to me is a loyalty to the crown, and there’s no doubt in my mind that he’d put a knife in my back, if he thought it would benefit the realm.”

It took you a moment to respond, your voice coming out weaker than you would’ve liked. “I don’t see what that has to do with me.”

“It’s because I want you to be more than that,” He started, the words nearly a plea. Despite his tenderness and his airy tone, the choker was still biting into your neck, still making it harder and harder to breath. If anything, the task was only growing more difficult, one of your hands unconsciously finding its way to your neck, following the indents where the fabric cut into your skin. “You may choose not to believe me, but I’m not looking for power. I’m not looking for somone I have to chain to my side, if I want them to stay. I want you to love me. I want you to look at me and see someone who you couldn’t picture yourself going on without.” A pause, a ragged exhale. Again, you felt him shake his head, Diavolo leaning forwards just enough to kiss the top of your head. “That’s how I feel about you.”

By now, you were pulling at the choker, prying at it, trying desperately to put a hair’s width of space between your neck and that noose. It was barely a scrap, just a strip of material, and yet in Diavolo’s hands, it became a vice, a chain, a collar attached to a leash just couldn’t stop yanking. You kicked blindly, scrambling to throw your elbow into his stomach or tear at the choker or do something to make it a little easier to breath, but Diavolo only laughed, the sound low, throaty, warm and heavy and fatal.

“I do want you to love me. If nothing else, I want you to care for me. Worry about me, if you have to. I know beggars can’t be choosers in a situation like this.” When he released you, letting the choker fall to the floor and pulling away from you completely, saving your dignity wasn’t an option. You stumbled forward, gasping, choking, trying to cough air into your lungs as you groped at your now-tender skin, reddened bruises already forming a tight ring around your neck. Diavolo watched you passively, letting you stumble forward and brace yourself against the standing mirror. “I want you to love me,” He went on, slowly. There was a step forward, a footfall softened by the slightest trace of reluctance, and Diavolo’s hand came to rest on your shoulder. “But I’ll find a way to live with it, if you have to fear me.”

It was all you could do to close your eyes as you fought to catch your breath, to rest your forehead against the cool, welcoming surface of the mirror. You couldn’t see your reflection, but you didn’t have to - your throat ached, throbbed, and when you forced yourself to give him a reply, it was raspy, as jagged as all the many things you wanted to drive into your kidnapper’s anatomy, at the moment. “I can’t believe I ever felt bad for you.”

Diavolo only grinned, letting you catch the edge of the expression in the corner of his eye as he stepped forward. A firm hand came to rest on the small of your back, but it was fleeting, chaste, as far from comfort as the light, almost unnoticeable kiss he pushed into your temple. “I’ve never been one for pity.”

With that, he stepped away from you completely, leaving you hunched over, your body shaking and your pride stomped so far into the ground, you doubted you’d ever nurse it back to its full health. You should’ve stopped there. You should’ve let him go, given yourself time to recover, and resigned yourself to spending the rest of the day sobbing your eyes out into satin sheets, but there was something burning in your chest, something hot and rough and ruthless, as it urged you to speak, to yell, to scream. You didn’t know if barking after Diavolo like his disloyal mutt would do anything to sate it, but there was a chance that it might, and that was a chance you were willing to chase after like your life depended on it.

“You can’t keep me here.” That was enough for him to pause, to glance over his shoulder as he moved to tell you that he was already doing just that, but you faster than him, this time. “I won’t let you keep me here. I’m going to get out, and once I do, I’m going to put myself so far out of your reach, you’ll be lucky to remember what I look like, by the time I’m done.”

He wasn’t facing you, but he didn’t have to be. You could hear his expression drop, his smugness not disappearing, but dampening. “I’ve told you, (Y/n), the brothers think you’re in the human realm, and the other exchange students have yet to express their concern. There’s nothing Lucifer or his--”

“Fuck Lucifer.” That earned you the slightest flinch, a subtle delay as he finally turned towards you, but you were past the point of patiently waiting for his reaction, for his approval. It was almost sickening, in retrospect, how you’d given him the benefit of the doubt after he’d kidnapped you, after he’d failed to have the decency to show a shred of remorse. He thought you were going to sit pretty and wait to be impressed, and you had to prove to him that you wouldn’t be so spineless. Brothers or no brothers. “I’m not locked in a tower. I’m not helpless. I don’t need to wait around for someone else to save me. I’ll crawl out of here, if I have to. I’ll claw my way out. I don’t care what I have to do, I will get away from you.”

You almost expected him to lash out. You might not blame him after that, but to your relief and your disgust, his composure never faltered. He didn’t raise a hand, did storm out or take you by the hair or do something violent and ugly and expected. It didn’t matter, though. His aggression was repressed, but that didn’t mean it was concealed, not when you could make it out in every clench of his jaw, in the way his head cocked just a little too far to the side. In the stretched, seamless, sadistic smile that soon found its way to his lips, only reassuring you that your new resolve would’ve been necessary, whether or not you were the one to provoke him.

“I’d like to see you try.”

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spockandawe · 4 years

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So this morning, I tripped across this excellent post about Xue Yang and classism, and it shook something loose in my head. Specifically, it got me thinking about the idea of Xue Yang taking revenge for ‘only’ losing a finger. Xiao Xingchen doesn’t say anything as directly dismissive as saying he only lost a finger, but I do think that is at least partially the way that Xue Yang takes the argument.

And I’ve thought a lot and said a lot of words about the way Xue Yang feels hurt and betrayed and frustrated as he tries to explain himself to someone, for once, and that person completely misses his point. And I’ve said words about how in the three years in Yi City, Xue Yang gets hooked on the quiet comfort of domesticity, even if he and Xiao Xingchen and A-Qing are still, objectively, poor. But I’d never thought about this particular angle of their last argument before now.

This is going to be long, I can tell, so let’s throw a spoiler cut in here

Now, I do think it’s important that Xiao Xingchen doesn’t say directly that it was only a finger. I think it would have been cruel of him to say that. But I also think that his upbringing and position in the world make him a bit… oblivious to the implications of Xue Yang’s story, and what he’s trying to communicate, and that leads to him saying some things that are more insensitive than he would have chosen to if he’d realized.

From a very early point, he knew that Xue Yang grew up without parents or money.

Unhurried, Xue Yang began, “Once upon a time, there was a child.”

“The child really liked eating sweet things. But because he had no parents or money, he could rarely eat them.”

And he was told how that child was exploited, and how hard he was beat up and used even before things reached the point where he lost a finger

[The huge, brawny man] took over the paper and looked at it, and he gave the child a slap so hard that his nose started bleeding. The man pulled the child’s hair and asked, ‘Who told you to take such a thing over?’”

[…]

“[seven-year-old Xue Yang] felt scared and pointed the direction. The man went to the liquor shop, carrying the child by pulling his hair.”

[…]

“The store was in a mess and the waiter was feeling quite cross. He slapped the child a few times, so hard that his ears were even buzzing, and chased him out the door. He crawled up and walked for a while.”

[…]

What do you think happened? Just a few more slaps and a few more kicks.”

(It’s interesting to me that he dodges even mentioning his hand being run over in this version of the story, but later goes into a lot of detail about his hand later with Xiao Xingchen, even though Xiao Xingchen has completely turned against him)

And, something that I hadn’t really noticed until I went to collect these quotes, is how Xiao Xingchen reacts to this story.

After Xiao XingChen tucked her, he walked a few steps, then asked, “What happened afterward?”

Xue Yang, “Guess. There was no afterward. You didn’t continue telling your story either, did you?”

Xiao XingChen, “No matter what happened afterward, since right now your life is fairly adequate, there’s no need for you to dwell too much on the past.”

That’s… a very high-minded approach to take, where I can see the good intentions, but I’m also kind of wincing at the accidental implications.

And then, to mix it up, let’s have some screencaps for the second half of the story, because these actors seriously knocked this scene out of the park

“The wheels of the cart milled over the child’s hand, one finger at a time. He was seven!”

And then another book quote, because it’s fascinating to me how directly he begs Xiao Xingchen to empathize with the child who was used so poorly and lost a finger in the process.

“Is it that, since the fingers weren’t yours, you guys were incapable of feeling the pain?! You guys didn’t know how horrifying screams sounded like out of your own mouths? Why didn’t you ask him why he decided to amuse himself with me without a single reason?!”

Only, right after he does this, Xiao Xingchen talks about how disproportionate Xue Yang’s revenge was. This really kills me, honestly, because this is the point where Xue Yang stops trying to appeal to him and explain himself, and takes a sharp turn towards losing control over his emotions instead.

Xiao XingChen spoke as though he couldn’t believe Xue Yang’s words, “Chang Ci’An broke one of your fingers in the past. If you sought revenge, you could’ve simply broken one of his fingers as well. If you really took the matter to heart, you could’ve broken two, or even all ten! Even if you had cut off an entire arm of his, things wouldn’t have been like this. Why did you have to kill his entire clan? Don’t tell me that a single finger of yours was equal to more than fifty human lives!”

I always just accepted that this was enough to hurt Xue Yang that much. But also… Xiao Xingchen knows that Xue Yang was a poor, parentless child, and he’s heard about how this child was callously exploited and mistreated by three separate adults. And there’s a couple class-related details in here that I want to touch on.

One, Xue Yang was again, a poor, parentless child, and I imagine he was living on the streets in a situation like that. Chang Ci’an broke (amputated) one of his fingers. And ran over the whole rest of his hand, which I have to imagine did other significant damage. Okay, so he wrecked this seven-year-old child’s hand. Now…. how much did this child have? What did he have besides his body? Did he even have a home to retreat to and recover? Because I have to imagine he didn’t. He didn’t have money for medical treatment, it’s not even clear if he knew anyone he could go to for basic medical help. Let’s not even talk about setting the bones in a shattered hand, did he even have access to anything to prevent infection? If he had any means of making a living (at age, again, seven), it would almost have had to be either begging or stealing. Having one ruined hand would have done awful things to this parentless child’s ability to survive. He made it through, clearly, but god.

And Xiao Xingchen isn’t approaching this from a position like most of our main characters, who grew up wealthy and privileged. He’s not approaching this in a way like how Jiang Cheng scolded Wei Wuxian for breaking his arm, because he had to get it all plastered up and spend weeks recovering, and that was super inconvenient. Xiao Xingchen was never wealthy, and he grew up as a feral mountain child with Baoshan Sanren. But that means that he wasn’t subject to the same social forces as a city child like Xue Yang. Even if he was injured as a child, even if he was badly injured, it wasn’t probably an act of cruelty or callousness on the part of an adult. And if he was injured, he might not have had access to formally trained doctors, but he had a teacher who was highly trained spiritually, and who would at least care for him.

In a way, I think that makes it all hurt… more for Xue Yang. Because Xiao Xingchen isn’t gentry, he never was affiliated with the great cultivation sects, and he and Xue Yang and A-Qing have been living together in a city in fairly poor circumstances for three years now. But Xiao Xingchen is an adult, and one who’s used to making his own way in the world. He has no personal understanding of what it’s like to be a powerless child in similar circumstances, without anyone. And in this moment, he’s not able to understand how awful and how serious this was for a child like Xue Yang to experience.

Like, compare and contrast. When the Wens are starting to move against Lotus Pier, there’s half a moment where Wei Wuxian makes his peace with losing a hand. He’s like ‘yeah, that sucks, but i’ll deal. i’ll just learn to fight with my other hand, whatever!’ But just imagine how serious that would have been before Jiang Fengmian found him. Without money, without a home, without anyone to care for you, without access to any real medical care, how dire an injury would that have been? Xue Yang might not have lost his hand altogether, but the cart ran over his whole hand, and hands are just full o’ bones. The consequences of that injury were significant.

And Xiao Xingchen’s initial reaction is ‘okay, so this wealthy cultivator broke your finger. why didn’t you just break his finger?’ and then he manages to escalate his way up to ‘idk, you could have even cut off his arm???’

In retrospect, it’s completely unsurprising to me that this is the moment where Xue Yang totally shuts down and starts asking why Xiao Xingchen even got involved, if he wasn’t capable of understanding.

“You shouldn’t have meddled in other people’s business. Right or wrong, kindness or hatred are not clearly distinguished, so how could an outsider possibly understand?”

“Your martial mentor, Baoshan Sanren, was indeed insightful. Why didn’t you listen to her and obediently cultivate in the mountain? If you couldn’t understand the human affairs and this world, then you shouldn’t have come!”

It makes me wonder what would have happened, if Xue Yang had leaned harder into what kind of suffering and hardship an injury like that meant for a street child, but considering how reluctant he was to share in the first place, I’m not exactly surprised he didn’t go there.

Incidentally, it’s interesting to me that when Xiao Xingchen calls Xue Yang ‘disgusting’, that’s when Xue Yang pivots into really trying to hurt him. I think it would hurt, coming from Xiao Xingchen, no matter what, but I have to wonder if he takes it extra hard in light of the way he’s just been trying to explain his history as a mistreated street child.

I’d been idly wondering if I was reading too far into this dynamic (not that that was going to stop me, but still, wondering :P), but this last addition to the conversation really caught my attention

“The people I hate the most are ones like you who say they’re righteous, who think they’re virtuous. Stupid, naive, dumb idiots like you who think the world’s better just because you did something good!”

And then I was like no, I’ve been right this whole time, haha :V

Xue Yang’s anger and hurt sense on a purely personal level, especially with the extra pain of trying to explain himself, for once, and Xiao Xingchen missing the point. But the extra frustration on behalf of his younger self makes so much additional sense.

Xue Yang likes Xiao Xingchen, he likes living with Xiao Xingchen, or he wouldn’t still be there three years after a chance encounter. It would be a whole other meta to source this claim, but it very much feels like there are things he admires about Xiao Xingchen, even if it’s kind of a condescending, indulgent fondness for his foolish, naive innocence instead of a straightforward admiration. Until it tips over here, and becomes personal.

And I think there were a lot of ways where he was prepared to disagree with Xiao Xingchen on a deep, fundamental level. They have very different values. But I don’t think he was prepared for Xiao Xingchen to be so oblivious to the class-based aspect of Xue Yang’s history. I don’t think Xiao Xingchen intended to be cruel, and I also think he had other significant things on his mind, but the seriousness of this incident doesn’t seem to occur to him. For someone with money, for someone with a skilled martial family, for even someone with a family, period, this would have been a traumatic experience, but one that could be dealt with. But then Xiao Xingchen equates the finger of this wealthy, purposefully cruel cultivator to the finger of a poor, parentless street child, and Xue Yang begins to lose control.

I already didn’t blame him for how upset he gets in this conversation, but now, even more than before, I find his reaction incredibly understandable. I mean, yes, their whole relationship is built on a foundation of sand, but he thought that he and Xiao Xingchen… supported each other, at least. They mattered to each other. And when Xiao Xingchen rejects him in the present, well, sure, that was going to happen if anyone was stupid enough to tell Xiao Xingchen the truth, that was understandable. But when Xiao Xingchen casually brushes aside the suffering of little innocent seven-year-old Xue Yang, that hurts Xue Yang more than he could have ever anticipated.

#the untamed #mo dao zu shi #xue yang #xiao xingchen #long post/#meta #xue yang: is it that since the fingers weren't yours you were incapable of feeling the pain?!#further speculation: xiao xingchen and lack of experience with *untreated* injuries #i really want to do something more with xue yang and bones that didn't heal right and an amputated finger that got infected #but heck if i know what

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alittlebitmaybe · 4 years

Text

with a fated touch

For @sugar-and-spice-witcher-bingo

Prompt: reunion

Pairing: Geralt/Yennefer

Rating: E

Warnings: None

Additional Tags: PWP, Canon-Typical Mind Reading, Inappropriate Use of Magic, Cunnilingus, Facefucking/riding, Light D/S dynamics, Dirty Talk, Mild Praise Kink

Summary: (2.6k)

“Presumptuous,” she murmurs, running her forefinger over his bottom lip.

“Sorry,” Geralt says, not sounding so at all. His tongue comes out briefly to meet her touch. “I’ve missed this. You.”

Or: The first time they meet after the dragon hunt, Yennefer puts Geralt on his knees.

Read more on AO3 or below the cut!

Geralt’s hands slide up her thigh, pushing her dress higher, and gooseflesh erupts over her skin when cool air hits it. His other hand brushes her hair back from her shoulder while his mouth moves along the line of her collarbone, desperate open-mouthed kisses a counterpoint to the burn of his stubble as it drags against her.

He’s beginning to harden against her stomach. She fists her fingers through his loose hair, lets her nails scrape his scalp. He groans as she pulls him back.

“Are we doing this?” she asks him. He tries to lean in again, unfocused and helpless, but she channels chaos to hold him in place. “Geralt. Answer me.”

“Yen,” he says, gruff. She withholds a shiver. “I am trying to do this. If you’ll let me continue.”

His hand, without permit, continues its journey up her leg. She allows this for an inch, two, his thumb brushing the hem of her smallclothes, before reaching out with her magic and halting that too. His palm spans the width of her thigh—he looms over her—yet she can control him with a spell, a touch, a word. It never fails to send a thrill through her. He has no real power over her. He wants to be hers. He craves it.

“Don’t you want it?” he asks. That thumb sweeps back and forth at the crease of her hip, though it can move no higher. His other hand has settled around the back of her neck, tilting her up to meet his gaze. A wall of lust smashes into her from his thoughts, impossible to ignore. He projects it at her nevertheless. It rushes through her, slips hot down her spine. She could block it, but she doesn’t.

“Yes,” she breathes. “Always.” A betrayal, perhaps—she shouldn’t want him, it’s not real. But it’s not in her nature to deprive herself. Not when images are pushing into her mind, memories, fantasies, spreading the heat through her belly.

Geralt must know she’s attuned to him, because he says, “How do you want it?” An image of him on his back, her on top. Using him. “Like this?” Yennefer perched on her vanity with him before her, both of them fully clothed. “Or this?” Both of them on their sides on the bed, him curled behind her, her leg held high to make room for him. “I’m full of ideas. Say the word.”

“Presumptuous,” she murmurs, running her forefinger over his bottom lip.

“Sorry,” he says, not sounding so at all. His tongue comes out briefly to meet her touch. “I’ve missed this. You.”

All at once she releases the magical restraints and yanks his mouth down to her own, kissing him with the same urgent passion that had driven them together all the way back in Rinde. She wants to mount him above her mantle. To sink her teeth in and rip him open. She does away with kindness—she hates him for what he’s done to her. For her own failure to resist him. For the longing that radiates from him under the lust. He has yearned for her. He tells her this with his mind, with the way he yields control of the kiss to her without a second’s hesitation, with the way he presses them together sternum-to-stomach as though even a hint of space between them is too far. More than yearning, he thinks, and she realizes she has been pushing her own thoughts back to him unintentionally.

“Enough,” she says in the gasp separating one kiss from the next. He steals another peck before awaiting her judgment. He is hot all over, so close, his breath, his chest, his straining cock. She’s doing this to him. It’s all for her, and she’s weak. She wants him again like she’s had him before. Like no one has ever—

She stops that seed of thought before it can grow wild. She says, “Undress me.”

It takes only a moment for him to pick out the knot of her corset and loosen the lacing. The straps of her dress droop down her shoulders.

“Anything else?” he asks, a faint smirk crossing his bitten lips. Too lucid. She’s going to undo him.

Yen smiles back despite herself. “You’ll put yourself to good use. On your knees, Witcher.”

He kisses the corner of her mouth one last time, lingering, and says, “As m’lady wishes.”

Her retort is lost somewhere in her throat when he begins tracing a slow path down her body with hands and mouth, following the dress as he guides it down. Gods, he knows how to touch her—knows where to bite to send sparks up her spine, knows that her right breast is much more sensitive than the left, knows that fingertips swept down her side will toe the line between enticing and ticklish. Her dress puddles to the ground at last when he lowers himself to kneeling and puts his teeth to her hipbone, lightly, before nuzzling at the rise of her belly.

Only her smallclothes are left now. “Well? Finish the job,” she orders, voice thin and higher-pitched but thankfully even. He hooks two fingers in the waistband, tugs, and leaves her bare. She steps out of the pile of clothing, kicking it to the side.

He looks up at her with widened pupils, trusting. Her Geralt. For he is hers, isn’t he? He treats her as if she’s the answer he’s always sought; she knows he’d do anything she wanted at the barest suggestion. She’s tested those limits, and not even the godsforsaken unicorn shook him. Is that truly him, or simply the wish? How can she ever know?

Not the time. Not with him waiting on the floor where she’d put him, and her naked in the drafty air.

“Light the fire,” she tells him.

He forms Igni at the dying hearth, which catches in a blaze. She spreads her legs, runs her fingers over the backs of his scarred hands to urge them under the curve of her ass.

“Brace me,” she says, and his grip tightens to take her weight. “You’re not to let go.”

He stares up at her, taking her commands in stride, patient even though he’s still untouched. Even though he must smell her arousal. In his position even an unenhanced man would be able to tell how slick she’s gotten.

The stream of his thoughts continues to flow thick with want but otherwise remains calm and steady. She’d like to see how long he can wait before the current turns turbulent. How long he can await instruction without moving a muscle, and all the while she gets wetter until her cunt threatens to drip on the rug.

Geralt’s chin bumps the inside of her thigh. “You’re testing me,” he rumbles.

“Yes, quite,” replies Yennefer. To up the ante, she reaches down and circles her clit slowly. When she presses harder, she moans softly at the relief. He watches the movement, jaw tensing, before flicking his gaze back to her face.

“Is this a punishment?”

“Perhaps.” Her breath hitches and she fights to keep still as she teases herself, just this side of not what she really needs. She aches to get it but can’t give in yet. “What do you want, Geralt? Do you want to taste me?”

He nods.

“Speak when you’re spoken to.”

“Yes,” he says. “Please.”

“Good boy, remembering your manners.” She rocks into her touch just a little, slipping two fingers inside herself before she removes her hand. “Open up.” When he obediently parts his lips, she withdraws her fingers and places them on his tongue, pressing down. “Clean them for me, Witcher, and maybe you can have more.”

He groans as he sucks the wetness from her skin, his eyes dropping shut as if he could get drunk on her. She gathers another fistful of his hair, cards it back out of his face. Holds it tight.

She sends him a question. What would you do for me?

Geralt shifts on the floor, his breeches taut over his cock and thighs when he leans back on his heels. A damp spot spreads near his waistband—already, the needy bastard. She’s barely begun.

What would you let me do to you?

It takes a few moments and even then a flurry of vivid images is his only answer. She takes them to mean Everything.

Her fingers leave his mouth with a pop, and she cups his cheek, tugging on his hair. He chases after them—so easy. So easy to have him like this, but only for her. Only with her does he stop checking his blind spots. Gods, she could burst from the disappointment of living in a reality that would keep her from him. Of a destiny that would force them together.

“Yen,” he starts, voice like gravel. “Here? Wouldn’t you rather we—”

“Don’t presume to know what I would rather,” she snaps, and grips him under the chin. “We do this my way or no way at all.”

He quirks an eyebrow but doesn’t argue.

She says, “I’ll tell you what I would rather. I’d rather come on your face and then leave you here as a toy for my personal use. I could immobilize you, but I wouldn’t have to. You’d stay right here on your knees until I told you otherwise. Tell me you would.”

“I would,” he rasps.

“I’d leave you hard and unsatisfied, drooling with how much you want it. Like a dog for a bone. I’d go over to my bed and get a full night of peaceful sleep, and you would have to stay here and hope I’d come back in the morning to take mercy on you.”

“Yen, fuck.”

“Should I, Geralt? Do you deserve my mercy?”

Reaching out with her magic, trailing it over his nipples and down his abdomen under his clothes, she finally wraps it around the base of his cock. He inhales sharply but does not reply.

She leans more fully into his support, spreads her legs as wide as she can manage to open herself to him.

“Don’t take all night,” she says, releasing his chin and urging him forward by the back of the head.

He buries his nose into dark hair, lips kissing along her vulva and the crease of her thighs. Building anticipation that doesn’t need to be built. She’s already clenching around nothing from his proximity, from the way she can feel his hips pushing against the tight hold of her magic for some semblance of friction. At last he goes where she wants him, licking broadly up her cunt. She bites her lip as he flicks his tongue over her clit. Swears when he sucks, and lifts herself towards the wet heat of his mouth.

His fingers flex and dig into her the skin of her ass. If he had his way, she knows he’d have them inside her by now. He loves to rub over that spot that makes her eyes roll back while he works her clit with his mouth, bringing her to ruin inside and out. One time he had lain her out and made her come over and over again on his mouth and fingers until she could no longer tell how many hours had passed. Gods, she’d nearly screamed for him that day. She had let him get her there. She’d wanted to.

Without the use of his fingers, Geralt makes do. His mind simmers with frustration and determination and need.

Yen eases the phantom touch up his shaft as he licks down toward her entrance, and his teeth catch against her on his gasp. She can’t quiet the whine that tumbles out of her throat. “You like that, don’t you?” He makes his way back to her clit, circles it with just the right pressure. “You like—oh—you like feeling my magic on your cock. I bet you want more. I bet you’d beg for it after long enough, with my taste on your lips and nothing in return.”

He pulls her tighter to his face, and she yanks on his hair to make him groan. At the same time, she forms the magic into a fist around him. It begins stroking him at a moderate pace, not how he wants it, quick and hard and now, but enough to keep him on the edge of desperate. It squeezes around the head how she’s seen him do to himself—how she has done to him—and he pauses his work to pant harshly against her skin.

When he stops, so does the magic. He growls.

“Now you know the rules,” Yen says breathlessly. “I come, then you come. Not before.”

“Fucking—” he curses quietly, hips rutting uselessly into the stilled touch. He settles for biting down on her inner thigh. Her legs tremble.

With renewed vigor he licks into her once more, doing away with technique and strategy. He centers his energy on her clit, clearly not aiming for anything other than to make her fall apart above him—her shoulders curve in and her mouth falls open on a cry.

“Yes, like that. Good boy,” she tells him again when he lets off enough for her to find the words. “Can you do that while I ride you? Hold still for me?”

He makes eye contact with her, irises nearly swallowed by pupil. Nods.

“Perfect,” she whispers, and grinds her cunt into his face.

He meets her rhythm with some guiding from the hand still in his hair, alternating his flicks from his tongue with firm suction that shoots sparks through her nerves. By the gods, she’s not going to last long. He knows her too well, knows how to put himself where she needs him most. The higher he sends her the more of her weight he must support, until it’s nearly only him holding her up to his mouth while she shakes and fucks herself on him with rolling hips.

The magic on his cock speeds as she ascends; she can feel the tension climbing through his muscles with the effort to hold back. A flick of her wrist sends the touch to engulf him as if he is sunk deep in a warm throat. He moans, and one of his hands slaps against her ass.

“Careful, just—almost—”

She thrusts forward and he sucks hard and she comes, convulsing in his grip, keeping him there by his hair while he works her through it. Until he must be running out of air, even with the mutations, and his eyelids flutter with the effort. The throat around him tightens, swallows.

Yen says, chest heaving, “Go on, Geralt. You can come now.”

He does, his forehead pressed snug into the soft give of her stomach, breathing her name so quiet that she might not hear it.

She combs her fingers through his hair and stands fully on her own, though her legs are still weak and her spine aches. The pins in her hair are poking at her scalp, so she pulls them out and tosses them on the vanity on her way to the bed, stepping over the discarded dress. It can be hung in the wardrobe in the morning.

Yennefer has one knee on the mattress before she realizes Geralt is still where she left him on the rug by the fire, gazing after her with a question in his eyes, like she might actually leave him there in his soaking breeches to be used at her whim.

Maybe next time.

She throws back the blankets and pats the space beside her. “Are you joining me or not, Witcher?”

He grins.

#my fic #the witcher #the witcher fic #yenralt #geralt x yennefer #yennefer of vengerberg #geralt of rivia #lmao i tried to edit the post last night and broke it and i just decided to post it today instead bc it was a weird time anyway #writing 2600 words of pwp took like 2 years off my life <3

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deans-haunted-baby · 4 years

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The Last Rites

*So, many fans including myself were unhappy with Adam Milligan and Michael’s exits out of Supernatural. This is my fix-it or at least my interpretation of what happened after 15x19 and 15x20. Enjoy!*

Summery: Chuck now human is a bitter bin collector and part-time serial killer stalking his latest victim. Little does he know that the dynamic human vessel/archangel duo Michael and Adam have been stalking him.

"Damn that Sam and Dean and that little brat for making me human! But I'll get the last laugh," he says as he makes his rounds and choosing his latest victim. Plotting all the terrible things he plans on doing to the Winchesters. “I’ll get them all for this!”

As Chuck follows this person out to their car in the middle of the night, knife in hand. All off a sudden he hears wings flapping and turns around in horror. His eyes bug out when he sees a figure standing before him in the shadows.

"W-who's there?"

Michael/Adam step out of the darkness wearing a "surprise-bitch" look on their face: "Hello...father" by the darkness of his ton Chuck knows his son hadn't forgotten the last time they saw each other. By that lakeside where he'd killed him for helping the Winchesters.

"No i-its impossible... You're dead I killed you. You should be in the Empty."

Michael hesitantly shakes his head. "Not anymore."

"How?"

"Let's just say I made bail thanks to my nephew and Castiel as they needed my assistance in Heaven's rehabilitation. And I humbly obliged."

"Castiel? He's alive too?! And you're working for them?! Why? That little brat took my power!" Chuck screams in anguish. "NO you both should be suffering in the Empty for all eternity!"

Michael/Adam looks at his hands flexing them into fists. Recalling the last second he drew breath being smited by his father. Regretting his decision to ever forsake his duty for humanity for his father. And his anger burns like acid.

"After what you did to me the last time we spoke...all I've cherished was this moment," the archangel Prince darkly replies. Adam's soul quietly astral-projected is in the background roots on his buddy. "Jack and Castiel offered me a chance to atone myself for wrongly choosing you over that which I’ve swore an oath to protect. That I could leave the Empty and reclaim my throne in Heaven if I stayed on Earth and helped the Winchesters clean up your mess."

Chuck glares "So you're their bitchboy now? Ha, pathetic." He chortled in his throat. "I always knew you were weak, Michael. Being in that cage all those years with Sam and Dean's forgotten little bro has made you soft."

Michael's cheeks throb angrily. But he maintains his restraint. "Oh I'm not doing this for them," he reveals; stepping a little closer to his father. Shoulders squared. "Being stuck on Earth is also my punishment. But I've accepted it...I deserve my fate...just as you deserve yours right now."

Chuck then scrutinizes his son suspiciously. Looking from the archangel's fists to the face of his vessel Adam.

"What so you're like an archangel superhero now?" He can't contain a laugh. "Wow those Winchesters must be really desperate to resort to sending you here instead of facing me themselves."

Michael shook his head. "As I've already stated...I'm not here for them, he says. "The one called Dean, my original sword, has already fallen in battle and has inherited his place in my nephew's paradise. And his brother Sam sought out his other brother Adam, my chosen vessel. They've been working together ever since."

"And that's when Jack sent you."

“Yes."

"Dammit!,” Chuck swears this wasn't suppose to happen. If he killed a Winchester in his story the other brother left alive was suppose to take his own life in grief. No this couldn't be happening. They changed his ending AGAIN. "THIS WASN'T THE ENDING I PLANNED! I DIDN'T WRITE THIS!"

Michael cocks his head sideways; basking in his father's frustration. It was music to his ears. Then he's serious; raising his hand and forwarding his palm in a power-up.

"Your reign if tyranny is over father. You will not be scribing another's fate ever again. Not while I'm around."

At that Chuck's face is ghostly white. "Wait, what are you doing?" He puts up his hands submissively. "I'm human now, you can't just smite me. I'm part of the humanity that I created for you to protect!"

"Oh you don't have any rights here," growls the archangel sternly. "You gave up those privileges when you chose to use your newfound humanity to blindly murder others. Your arrogance and hatred for mankind was your own undoing. And now your death shall be your punishment, father."

Chuck trembling now resorts to begging for his son's mercy. "Michael, wait son we can talk about this." He showcases a nervous smile. "We can still make this right."

"No we can't." Michael scoffs. "The centuries of my allegiance to you have also perished. And I've wanted nothing more than to watch you beg forgiveness as you draw your last breath."

"Wait please show your father mercy, my son! Please!"

"Like the mercy you demonstrated to me that day by the lake shore?"

Chuck nodded still keeping his hands up. Okay so Michael was still pissed about that. "Fine you're right that was a mistake. I should've never hurt you like that. I was wrong and I see that now."

Michael's expression is smug, giving a mild throat chuckle. Then his cold expression shifts into anguish. "I hate myself for ever believing in you and turning my back on humanity. I will never be able to forgive myself for making that choice. For allowing you, Lucifer and my devotion to you to manipulate me from doing what was right."

"This doesn't have to get ugly Michael, we can still talk this out." Chuck begs. “Come on, what do ya say?”

"No we're done talking father." Michael's eyes glow like silvery blue light.

Chuck back peddles "Wait j-just give me another chance. I can prove to you I'll change I will."

Michael chuckles darkly, "Like the chance you were about to give that civilian you were following just now? Or the others you’ve murdered since?"

He eyes the knife in his father's hand. Suddenly Chuck realizes this and impulsively drops it onto the pavement.

"No, this isn’t what it looks like. I-I wasn't going to hurt anyone else. I swear!"

"You'll never learn will you father," Michael shrugs apathetically. "It's a shame. You were given a gift by your own flesh and blood and you've squandered it."

"WAIT MICHAEL, PLEASE LET'S JUST TALK ABOUT THIS!"

No, no the archangel Prince was done talking. He'd said all he needed to say and with that throws Chuck's own last words to him right back in the short man's face.

"SAVE IT!" smiting him instantly on the spot. Blasting his father in a blinding light, erasing him from existence. When the dust settles Michael eases his tense shoulders releasing a sharp intake of breath.

Adam's projected soul then takes it upon himself to console his friend. Who is clearly bitter about destroying his own father even if he was an evil bastard.

"You did the right thing you know," the pre-med student/hunter in training reassures him. "Your dad would've killed that person if you hadn't intervened."

But Michael doesn't want to hear it. "I didn't do this for that person. I did it out of my own volition. I wanted my father to pay for what he'd done to me and my broken vow."

"It still doesn't change the fact that you saved someone tonight, Michael,” Adam insists. “And you proved that you can be better than Chuck ever was."

Michael frowns lowering his gaze to the ground melancholically.

"Or maybe I've just demonstrated that I am no better than him. I betrayed my sworn oath," the archangel squeezes his fist tightly. Putting all his anger into that hand. "And for that transgression alone I shall never be redeemed."

Adam recognizing the sadness in Michael's expression, throws his celestial pal a genuine smile, kneading his shoulder. "There's always redemption for all of us," he says gently. "I believe my brothers were capable of that, even if they never cared about me. Knowing you and even getting to know Sam has taught me so much more about myself, my family and what I'm meant to do with my life."

"What like being a hero?"

"Yah and it's kinda cool I get to kick some ass with an archangel."

"So, you want to honor your family. Despite what fate they'd left you to."

Adam shook his head. "Sam and Dean were far from perfect. I don't think I'll ever fully forgive them for what happened," he reveals. "BUT I think it changed me for the better. I got to become friends with Heavens MVP and I care about their cause now. They wanted to protect the world from evil and that's what I want to do. It's not about honoring the Winchester's legacy I want to do some good in this world. And you know what...I think you do too."

The archangel smiled to himself. "Well I did get some amusement out of watching my father squirm," He says lightly then adds. "Alright kid, you win. We shall continue our eternal quest for justice."

"Good, but we can continue that quest another night," the pre-med checks his wristwatch. "I gotta get some rest I have classes in the morning."

Michael scrutinized Adam. "You do know that you no longer require rest now that I've possessed this vessel or has that notion escaped you?"

“Oh yah I forgot," Adam laughs. "I guess I won't be needing sleep anytime soon then. Let's go home anyway I want to check out the bunker some more. Find any hidden passages or something."

"As you wish. I imagine your canine companion is also getting famished without us around to feed it."

A light bulb went off in his head. Right Sam and Dean's dog Miracle was in his care now. He loved that scruffy mutt even if he did drool a lot. Time to get home.

"Miracle, okay we gotta get home stat!"

And with that Michael flew back to the bunker.

#adam milligan #supernatural #midam #michael the archangel #Archangel Michael #chuck shurley #SPN #adam x michael #michael x adam #spn one shot #spn fix-it #spn fanfic #chuck god #spn spoilers #supernatural season 15

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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 4 years

Text

This Too Shall Last

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Mature (M) Notes: This is based off of @dumb-bitch-starker‘s post that you can find here! I saw it and had to try my hand at it. I’ve got some personal experience with marriage young, so it was a fun one! Warnings: NSFW stuff - lots of fluff, be ready! Summary:

Peter Parker is from a small town in rural Virginia. After winning the National Spelling Bee, he's given the opportunity to go to an advanced private school. Midtown is where he meets Tony Stark, a brown haired boy with an affinity of beating him to the punch. They grow up together and find that what they were looking for wasn't all that far away. This is the story of how these two move from friends to boyfriends to husbands.

Or, the one where Peter Parker is a genius and has an epic friendship turned romance with Tony Stark.

Read it on AO3 here

For Peter, being smart was his foot in the door to a world that for the longest time, he could only imagine. In the town he lived in with is Aunt, there was one school that catered to all of the grades, K-12. There were two stop lights and a singular gas station nestled in the heart of town. Aside from a handful of transplants, most of the town’s population consisted of long lines of families and those that were establishing them. May still had her mail delivered to her by the same man from her later childhood.

All and all – getting out of that place was the only option and luckily – Peter was blessed with the means to do it.

After winning the National Spelling Bee at the young age of 6, Peter got several scholarship offers for some of the private schools around the Virginia area. It would have been nice to actually get away from his little town and go to one of the more prestigious ones – but May needed him around and could only truly afford to see him go 45 minutes away instead of the several hours some of the other schools offered.

Midtown Private catered to the rich of the Virginia Beach area – Peter understood that immediately. Even as a young kid, he realized that his old backpack and battered shoes were something completely different compared to the people around him. It didn’t take a genius (even though he was,) to catch onto the fact that everyone else had drivers drop them off – he watched them file out of their pretty cars from the bus stop every morning. There wasn’t much to be done, though – the opportunity was there, and he planned to take it.

Despite all of the differences between him and the rest of the student population, Peter excelled. After a few days in his second-grade class, it was obvious that the people around him were also of another caliber in the classroom. In his old school, he spent most of his days completely bored. Since the first day at Midtown, Peter felt challenged – his brain finally stretched the way it needed to be. His classmates were able and more than willing to participate in the classroom. A brown-haired boy with quick hands beat him to the punch a lot of the time – but he didn’t mind, there was something to be said about someone just as interested in the information.

At the end of his first week, Peter found out who the brown-haired boy was. His eyes were still wide from the initial shock of walking into a lab that he could fit his entire house into. There were so many different tools and instruments he’d never seen before – things that he couldn’t wait to get his hands on. It looked like a scene out of some of his favorite science fiction movies that played late at night. He sat down at the closest cluster of chairs and looked around with marvel.

The chair at the desk next to him moving on the floor brought him out of his excitement induced trance – he cracked a smile when the brown-haired boy sat down. “You’re the new kid, right?” he asked – the question rattled off without an ounce of hesitation. There weren’t many kids his age that behaved that way; his difficulty making friends stemmed from a lot of things and that was one of them. Tilting his head, Peter took him in for a moment.

“Yeah, I’m Peter,” he finally replied, his body shifting slightly in the seat to see the other kid a little more clearly.

They met eyes for the first time then, the brown of the other’s eyes reminding him the color of milk chocolate melting on the stove. For some reason, that made him feel a little calmer – the hue reminding him so much of fondue night with May.

The kid was smiling at him, his hands flipping open the folder he pulled out of his bag. “Hi. My mom makes me introduce myself as Anthony – but that name is stupid, so just call me Tony.” While he spoke, he slipped a worksheet in front of Peter.

“Do you like science like you like math?” Tony asked him, his eyes looking at the sheet briefly, then straying back in Peter’s direction. It felt weird, having someone understand his likes without evening knowing him – Tony pinpointed him just by observing. He wondered, not for the last time in his life, just what else Tony effortlessly observed about him.

Glancing down at the paper, his eyes lit up when he recognized the microscope on it. Just last Christmas, he got a small lab set that came with beakers and a microscope – he spent hours taking it apart and putting it back together for many weeks after that. The reading level of what he was looking at surpassed even what a class like this would provide for them – so he was immediately excited.

“I love science. I’m going to go to space one day,” Peter muttered, his eyes still looking over the paper in front of him. He wondered where Tony got it – the board at the front of the room said they were looking at the different types of rocks and there wasn’t an accessible microscope in sight. “This is a light microscope, right? What are you looking at with it?” He finally pulled himself away from the difficult information, his brain on fire.

He couldn’t tell if Tony was on the verge of excitement or blowing up at him, the look on his face a little unreadable. “You want to go to space? I want to build rockets. I’ve been trying to read through a book about Apollo 13 – but that words are kind of hard.” He shrugged then, his hand reaching over to take the sheet back from Peter’s desk.

“I don’t know what I’m going to look at yet – my dad said I needed to learn more about it before I could touch his expensive equipment.” Tony made the infamous air quotes and rolled his eyes – the look on his face making Peter laugh.

“My aunt says stuff like that, too. She bought me a starter lab kit last year for Christmas – and I’m terrified to break it. I may never get anything cool ever again, if I do.” He crinkled his nose, the thought making his brain hurt a little. “I’ve taken the microscope in it apart and put it back together a bunch of times – I can help you, if you want,” Peter added in after a second, his eagerness in the suggestion apparent.

Tony took a second to answer back – his cheeks were turned up in a smile, but he stayed silent, regardless. “Okay,” he said simply, a soft look on his face. “Sit with me at lunch – I want you to tell me more about this lab kit.”

That day was forever engrained in Peter’s head – he later came to find out that Tony, who was Tony Stark, son of Howard Stark, the frontrunner in plane, boat, and submarine technology and construction – was the smartest and most sought after friend in the entire school. People did not talk to him for weeks after they sat together that first day at lunch. It was laughable that something as silly as that was the thing that made him an outsider.

For years, Peter ran in the same circle as Tony in a lot of ways. From that fateful day in science on, Tony sought Peter out as a lab partner. Even being in a school where everything was advanced, both boys were more than capable of bigger things. Tony invited Peter to his dad’s lab every now and again – despite how much May hated having to drop him off at the fancy gate whenever he went.

After proving his worth and commitment to thorough research and a safe approach, Tony got access to a lot of cool things; a few of these things he shared with Peter. Between third and sixth-grade, Peter and Tony built a different (and progressively more advanced) robot each year for the science fair. Being friendly with someone like Tony was like being shown a different world; both the boy’s personality and background contributed to that, too. He learned something new about the boy every instance they spent any time together.

Middle brought the ability to do extracurricular activities – an opportunity in which Peter took complete advantage of. Enjoying the robot building process so much, Tony convinced him to join the Robotics team. He also found himself recruited to the track and field team after a startlingly fast mile during physical fitness week. Both activities were so much more than he ever thought imaginable for himself – so he went above and beyond to be amazing at them.

Running came naturally to him, he quickly came to find out. All of his middle school years were spent going to conference, regional, and national meets. The year before entering into high school, Peter broke the 1500-meter record and won a middle school national championship. Walking onto a new campus the next year, Peter found himself embraced by the teammates he had previously and the new ones he gained – not for the first time, he felt surprised by the odd dynamic of the people he luckily found himself surrounded by.

The opportunity to get ahead in college came around his junior year. He took all of the AP science classes and passed with ease, so there wasn’t much left in his high school to take – a select few that were of similar academic standing were cleared to take dual enrollment classes that would count as college credit. There were tons of science he was going to need in college, the ability to knock out a few of them was too hard to pass up.

He barely made it to the early college campus before his first class started late one September – the bus was running behind again and had been all week. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Peter took a seat towards the back of the class – the person next to him none other than Tony Stark. “I thought I’d see you here,” Tony mumbled towards him as he settled in, the now very, very, very handsome boy’s cheeks curling up into a grin. “Did you have to run to get here?

Looking around for a second, Peter noticed there wasn’t much happening – the front of the class empty, no professor in sight. “From the bus stop, yes. The earlier buses always run a little late,” he explained, his chest finally relaxing, the tightness ceasing now that he wasn’t running at full speed, anymore. It felt good to sit down after that.

“That’s no bueno, Pete – I need my lab partner fresh and on his toes. You can ride with me,” Tony stated, his voice definitive, the tone just barely shy of being bossy. “We’re both going to the same place – I don’t mind.” He finished his words with a smile, the look enough to make him laugh a little.

There wasn’t any reason not to accept the offer – the thought of not having to take the bus four times every day sounded pretty dang good. “Okay – if you really don’t mind.” Peter reached across and placed a hand on Tony’s shoulder, his fingers tightening. “Thanks, Tony,” he murmured, his eyes alight.

Tony tilted his head a little, brown eyes watching Peter closely for a second before he nodded – his eyebrows arching. “I really don’t mind. You’re welcome, Pete.” As he spoke, the door opened and the professor walked in, everyone in the class straightening up – the authority of the person at the front of the class still respected at their age.

For the rest of the day, Peter didn’t think too much about Tony or his offer, there were too many interesting things being thrown his way. It wasn’t until they finished their Biochemistry lab that Peter even remembered the offer. Tony caught up to him out in the hallway, his glasses slipping down his nose a little when he stopped in front of Peter. “You don’t have practice until later, right? Want to study for a bit? I’ll take you back when we’re finished. That lab report could use a little work before we turn it in tomorrow,” Tony spoke with such confidence, the quirk in his lips natural looking, not forced like it might’ve been on Peter himself.

The glance down at his wrist was unnecessary, without looking at his watch, he knew it was pushing 2. He wouldn’t need to be back to the high school until 4:30 and with a ride, he didn’t have to worry about catching the bus. “That sounds okay to me – I think I finally figured out how to do the last problem set,” Peter replied, his thumbs slipping under the straps of his backpack. “I think I saw some good reference books when I was in the library yesterday. Let’s head that way.”

That afternoon started a chain reaction of studying together every day after class, the two of them nose deep in books until Peter’s alarm went off. The first couple of times it happened, the dirty looks were numerous – then they got smart about it. Since they were in the early college program, classes ended at the same time every day – so, they rented out a study room and spent the two hours in there, instead. The whiteboards were good for everything they were trying to accomplish, anyway.

One afternoon about halfway through the semester, Peter walked out of his last period lecture hall completely done in. Practice the day before kicked his butt and they were running low on food in the house. He snuck in a granola bar earlier – and his metabolism demolished it before he could even think about being at least somewhat satisfied. School breakfast that morning ran out a earlier than usual, so he was feeling it.

When Tony stepped up to his side a couple of minutes later, Peter looked at him blankly. “I don’t think I’ve got it in me to study today, Tony – I’m exhausted. And starving. Mostly starving, honestly,” Peter babbled, his right hand settling on his stomach – he hoped if he got there fast enough, the growl wouldn’t sound between them.

Peter rolled his eyes when they both heard the gurgle – a spot of red pressing into both of his cheeks almost instantly. He pressed against his stomach a little more firmly then, his thoughts willing the damn thing to shut the hell up. Chancing a glance up, Peter was surprised to see empathy in Tony’s eyes. Despite knowing him relatively well, there was no real way of anticipating how the boy would react – Tony worked on a scale of differing levels of sarcasm. He figured it would take the rest of his life to truly understand the rules to Tony’s game – but it felt good to see the other at least respond positively to his insignificant troubles.

“We’re so caught up on everything, Pete – I’m sure the library can do without us for the day. Do you want to go grab some food? There’s this place, Chester’s, they make the best burgers.” Tony spoke while he fidgeted with his hands, his body much like his mind – always moving, never quite satisfied.

At the mention of food, Peter’s stomach growled again, his mouth watering, too. There were a few dollars in his pocket, the idea of using it to afford food sounded like an excellent one. He nodded his head excitedly, eyes bulging a little. “Yes, that would be amazing. I’d eat your shoe if you seasoned it right. A burger sounds delicious,” Peter agreed, his feet already antsy to start moving towards the door and closer to the food.

It took a little while to get used to driving around in Tony’s fancy car. The contrast to May’s broken-down Chevy made his stomach churn a bit – but on the other hand, he got a little excited about it, too. The black Audi drove like a dream and had an engine that could easily become something too fast for its own good. The inner console was completely touchscreen and the family AI, FRIDAY, could be reached with the controls. One day he expected to walk out to a car that would drive itself.

Settling into the passenger seat, Peter felt better than he did all day and tried not to think too hard about that. In the past couple of months, Peter’s feelings about Tony went from neutral to completely over the hill for him. It wasn’t hard to feel that way about the other, though – Peter knew that from being in school with him so long.

Girls and boys alike would trip over their feet to get his attention. Yet, no one managed to catch it. Tony kept to himself for as long as Peter could remember – no matter how much people wanted him, he didn’t budge. Now that he was starting to feel the same way about the other boy, his stomach felt a little funny – like a weird mixture between giving a speech and watching Batman on TV.

There wasn’t any hope for his silly feelings to be returned, Peter knew that. He couldn’t claim to be a genius without understanding the reality of the situation in front of him. Even still, Peter was unable to keep a lid on it and found himself smiling over at Tony more in the last three weeks than in their entire existence together. Not for the first time, Peter wondered if Tony knew – his friend was too smart not to.

The drive was pretty easy – there wasn’t much traffic at that time of the day, so they were skating down the highway in Tony’s beautiful car in no time. He fiddled with the screen for a while before The Used started to play – the throwback making Peter laugh outright.

“I never pegged you for a 2000’s emo fan,” Peter said through the chuckle, his brain already supplying the lyrics to the song, regardless of his own taunt. Lots of things happened in the early days of Peter’s life – he found a weird kinship with the early 00’s songwriters; their grief and pain were tangible, and he liked that.

Peter watched Tony drum on the steering wheel with one of his hands, the other loosening and clenching with the beat. It was easy to tell that Tony was not a stranger to this type of music – the chorus of Bird and the Worm started and they both broke out singing it, their voices surprisingly meshing together pretty well. “I’m full of surprises, Peter Parker. I also happen to like old rock, too. What do you have to say about that?” Sarcasm dripped from the words, each one settling in the pit of Peter’s stomach – each one making that little flame of want grow the slightest bit bigger.

Catching himself smiling, Peter turned his face towards the window, the cityscape of Virginia Beach flying by them. “I think that’s okay by me. I kind of like surprises. Makes life a little more interesting. I don’t like tomatoes – I’m sure that comes as a great surprise to you,” Peter retorted, his own joke pulling a chuckle from his lips.

Tony shook his head, eyes breaking from the road to glance in Peter’s direction. “Something tells me there’s a lot more to you than just not liking tomatoes. For instance – you can run a 1500-meter race in under 4 minutes. Now that, my friend, is very surprising. I probably couldn’t even make it around the track once in 4 minutes.” Tony joined him in laughter then, the self-depreciative statement nowhere near the truth – Peter could see the obvious signs of that in the way his bicep bulged when he turned the wheel.

“It’s always a surprise to me, too. The last lap, I’m always just running on pure instinct, adrenaline, and dopamine. I didn’t know you knew that, though. We’ve never really talked about it before,” Peter realized, his thoughts manifesting in the words slipping from his mouth. Over the years, they spent so much time together and never broached the layers beneath the surface. Peter felt compelled to change that, even if it was for his own sick pleasure of knowing more about Tony, of having little pieces of him that not a lot of people get access to.

“I like statistics. Me and a couple of the guys from robotics got together to watch last year – it was cool to see the variance in all of our time guesses. You’re talented, Pete. That’s pretty hard to miss.” Tony shrugged then, his hands returning to their incessant drumming on the steering wheel.

Peter was glad for Tony’s shift in attention – the pink color on his cheeks already embarrassing without getting caught out by the boy he wanted to impress. Despite the roaring redness in his face, Peter wrapped himself in the knowledge that Tony noticed him and let the hum of his feelings crank up just a little bit louder.

That first burger stop led to a change in their routine – instead of hitting up the library, they camped out at a table in the corner of Chester’s dining room and studied. At least, it started out as studying. The topics progressively moved from Biochemistry to track and field – then even further past that into a much more personal territory. Peter learned that Tony’s parents weren’t ever around and when they were, he was avoided at all costs. In turn, Peter told Tony about his parents and uncle Ben – about the travesty of the start of his life and the small town he couldn’t wait to get away from.

He figured out pretty quickly how good it felt to simply talk to someone, especially a someone that seemed to understand more than anyone else Peter could remember encountering. Tony listened so intently, like Peter’s words were ones he needed to absorb and digest. Peter felt heard, the feeling so novel that he almost didn’t understand it – that burning sensation of actually being acknowledged. The similar look in Tony’s eyes when Peter gave him the same attention clued him in, though – the boy across from him seemed just as eager to have a pillar to lean on.

And interestingly enough, he chose Peter for the position.

A couple of days before finals week, Tony and Peter were in their normal booth at Chester’s – their shoulders pressed together to look at the textbook between them. The ringing of Peter’s phone shattered the peace of their study sanctuary – he let out a soft sigh at the break in concentration. Answering it swiftly, Peter was surprised to hear the Stanford Track & Field team coach on the other side of the line. After listening intently, Peter dropped the phone back to the table – his chest alight from the news he just received.

“That was Mike Eskind from Stanford – they want to bring me out to campus for a visit when next semester starts.” Peter looked up to catch the tail end of Tony’s huge smile – the look making his guts churn with that all too familiar heat. Shaking his head of the thought, he beamed back – their eyes locking.

“Holy shit, Pete!” Tony exclaimed, his voice the loudest pitch Peter heard him use all day. The boy jumped out of his chair – their gazes still connected. Peter followed suit without much hesitation, his entire body thrummed with excitement and pent up energy. Tony threw his arms around his hips and pulled him close – the throb of the other’s joy enough to make Peter suck in a breath, his own arms wrapping around Tony’s to join in on the embrace.

It felt right – being wrapped up in Tony’s arms. They were solid and warm, the presence of them on Peter’s hip grounding him, keeping him in the moment – the one where he got some of the greatest news of his life. He felt Tony’s head turn a little bit, his breath now gusting against the length of his neck. “Congrats,” Tony mumbled into the skin there.

Pulling back, Peter felt his grin widen, their arms not leaving each other. In the years to come, he wouldn’t be able to say who leaned in first – but all of the sudden, they were kissing. Tony’s lips were warm like the rest of him, the fullness of them pressing elegantly against Peter’s.

The initial kiss was soft, the chasteness of it a little like taking the first sip of a drink to test the flavor. Peter knew in that instant that nothing else would be as good as this – the smooth taste of Dr. Pepper, french fries, and a thing that he could only describe as Tony. It was intoxicating and enough to realize just how fucked he really was.

They inhabited the same space for another couple of moments, then Tony pulled away – one of his hands moving from Peter’s hip to cup his cheek. “I’ve wanted to do that for forever,” Tony whispered, his forehead tilting forward to rest against Peter’s. “Forever,” he mumbled again – the singular fact that they were in the middle of a public restaurant not registering to either of them. Peter closed his eyes and let himself relax into the embrace.

“Me too,” Peter replied after a while, his eyes opening for a brief second before Tony leaned forward and pressed their lips together again. The thought that maybe this might be a thing from now on made his heart skip and his head tilt a little further to the side, deepening the kiss.

Later that night, Peter thought so much about that kiss – about how utterly perfect the first one he ever got was – how, out of all the people in the world, Tony chose him to be on the receiving end of his affection. After getting to know the boy, Peter understood just how big of a thing that was – he didn’t get any in his home life, it made total sense that being able to give it wasn’t the easiest thing. Yet, it seemed to be earlier that day, the memory of Tony’s lips still ghosting across his own.

----

Finishing out the semester with all A’s, some college credit, and a boyfriend still felt surprising – even two months later when he slid into Tony’s car bright and early in the morning. This new ritual of theirs started when winter break ended, and their high school classes started back up. Since they didn’t have any early college stuff until the middle of January, both boys were free to do what they wanted after 11 every morning. Peter didn’t have any commitments until track practice at the end of the day, so they capitalized on it. His lips were so chapped by the end of the three weeks of freedom they had, and the boys were closer than ever.

He still didn’t understand why Tony wanted to drive 45 minutes in both directions to come and get him – but he wasn’t going to complain. Not having to sit on the bus so early in the morning was a beautiful thing, and all the extra time he got to spend with Tony was even better. Sometimes they were early enough to stop off and get some breakfast – and sometimes they skipped the McDonald’s and took advantage of the extra time; Tony’s back seat felt like a second home after so much time in it.

Though they were always all over each other, things hadn’t escaladed between them. Peter knew the feel of Tony’s cock through the tightness of his jeans – he knew the face Tony made when he came in his pants, but that was the extent of it. For a while, Peter worried that Tony would be mad at him for keeping things low level between them. The emotional feelings he felt for the other boy were so strong – he could only imagine what adding more to the physical sense of those feelings would be like.

With the thought in mind that junior year was the most important and the hardest, Peter and Tony kept their hands to themselves more or less and merely enjoyed being in each other’s company. When they weren’t making out in the back of Tony’s car, they studied at Chester’s or in the library, and spent time with May.

She initially wasn’t on board with the whole relationship when Peter first told her about it – then Tony came to the house for dinner and charmed her pants off. The deal was pretty much sealed after that. Tony seemed to enjoy the family aspect of being with her, and Peter enjoyed the look of happiness on his face too much to deprive him.

Peter thought that track season would put a damper on things between them, but it only seemed to strengthen their bond. Tony didn’t have anything other than robotics going on after school and they were currently on a break until championships at the end of the year – so he came to all of Peter’s meets. By the middle of the season, Peter’s teammates recognized Tony and May as his cheering section – and when things got really intense, many of them would join the pair in cheering Peter on. This was his year and the closer he got to it, the more Tony being there meant – the fact that the other cared about him enough to stand in the hot sun and rainy days was motivation and pushed him harder than he ever thought imaginable.

Winning nationals that year felt so sweet – his entire season was more than amazing and a lot of it had to do with all of the love and support he felt on a constant basis. So, it was easy to finally let Tony have the little bit of love they hadn’t experienced with each other yet. It seemed like the perfect celebration for an achievement that most people couldn’t even fathom – let alone achieve three times. The look of pride on Tony’s face made the decision pretty simple. Not even May looked at him like that – like he was the most prized trophy in the world and that Tony was the true winner here, not Peter.

It wasn’t nearly as awkward as he initially thought it might be. Tony spent a long time prepping him – the view of the boy with sweat on his brow and a look of pure concentration on his face something Peter didn’t ever want to forget. He came more than once throughout the process and when Tony did finally press inside of him, the burn of the stretch felt like the lactic acid build up at the end of a race – something he could easily push through. Watching Tony fall apart above him was almost as good as the rush of intense pleasure when his boyfriend finally found his pleasure center deep within. The utterance of his name never sounded sweeter than when Tony gasped it in the throes of pleasure – his lips finding Peter’s as he rode through it.

Slumping together on the hotel bed after they were done, Peter relaxed into Tony’s arms – the other’s soft hands ran over his hair, lips pressing against his neck every couple of seconds. “I love you, Peter Parker. I love you and I’m so proud of you. So proud, Petey,” Tony mumbled, his lips against salty skin disguising some of the words – but Peter heard enough. His heart picked up its pace, the organ not used to this sort of rush. He loved Tony – that much was obvious to everyone that got to see them together. Never in a million years did he think Tony would be the one to say it first, though.

“I love you too, Tony. Thanks for being here. Not just today, either. You’ve been the best support I’ve ever gotten. I can’t thank you enough,” Peter whispered back, his eyes a little teary. Between the exhaustion of his two days of racing and the emotional roller coaster of it all, Peter felt drained – and that meant a little more susceptible to being smacked in the face with his feelings. Looking over his shoulder, Peter reached for an awkward angled kiss – the move stopping the tears in their tracks.

Without missing a beat when they pulled away, Tony pressed a kiss to his neck and shoulder, hands traveling down Peter’s side. “You deserve it. Not just because you’re good – even though you’re fucking amazing. You bring a lot of things to the table, Pete. The more people get to see that, the more they realize just how big of an asset you are. Why do you think your teammates came up with us to cheer you on? You make an impression – you’re the greatest person I’ve ever known.”

Peter turned over to get a better look at Tony, the boy’s words so big. Now that they were facing each other, Peter could see the post-orgasm flush on Tony’s cheeks and the soft smile his lips seemed to be in on a near permanent basis these days. He pressed a kiss to the edge of his smile on both cheeks, then licked his nose in jest. “I think you’re just biased, babe,” Peter decided to say, all of the other words he could have blurted out stuck in the filter – his head everywhere and nowhere all at once.

The rush of air against his cheek when Tony laughed made his body shudder, the goosebumps taking over his flesh a nifty side effect to the soft sound of his boyfriend’s happiness. “You’re probably right.” His reply was quick and followed by a series of kisses against both of Peter’s cheeks. Tony’s hand ran hypnotically from the middle of his back all the way to the top and then back down again – his entire body now completely relaxed into the comfort of his favorite person.

As most do, their relationship changed a little bit after that. With the summer months ahead of them, there wasn’t much else to do other than spend time together. Tony’s parents left the day after they got back from nationals and would be gone for the rest of the summer – which meant they got run of the huge Stark mansion, just the two of them. They spent way too many hours in the lab constructing a couple new versions of some of their older robotics models – and fucking over available surface, too. It was one of the best summers Peter could remember and they didn’t even leave the city.

Throughout the week, Tony took Peter back and forth between his place and May’s – he still needed to do track workouts and such, so he used the mornings away from Tony to do just that. After his last win, it felt important to make sure he kept at it and tried to advance even more than he already was. He committed to Stanford at the end of the school year and didn’t want to give the school a reason to rescind the opportunity they were giving him. He and Tony were both polishing up their essays before sending in their applications – he still needed to get into the school to actually be able to go be an athlete there.

Peter felt lucky, spending the summer days surrounded in the haze of his love for Tony and the fun they could so easily have with each other. Most of his summers before were spent doing odd jobs around town to make a few extra bucks and counting down the days until he could get back to Midtown. It was miserable and Peter dreaded everything about it.

Not anymore, though – the days were dwindling down way too quickly; the freedom of the summer was too sweet to want to give up.

Regardless of his desires, senior year started without much preamble. The beauty of being with someone as smart as Tony came with having every class with him – even their early college classes on the other campus. Each day got to start and end with Tony, the exact way Peter preferred it.

About halfway through the year, May pulled him aside before he could walk out the door – her eyes filled with concern. “Pete – don’t you think you and Tony might be getting a little bit too serious? We haven’t had dinner without him in months,” May said, her face pinched up tight with discomfort. “It’s just – you’re in high school and you two act like you’re a married couple.”

He couldn’t help the laugh that fell from his lips – the truth of that statement hitting him square in the chest. They did and there wasn’t a single part of him that didn’t like that fact. Life with Tony in it was easy – more natural than breathing, even. It never crossed his mind, how the time they spent together might look to people around them. Tony brought him joy and happiness – and those feelings quickly became the sole focus in his life. He felt good and there wasn’t anyone who could take that away from him – not even May.

“Yeah, we do. And that’s okay. It’s not unhealthy, or anything. I like being around him, May. He makes me happy. Isn’t that what you want – for me to be happy? He’s my best friend. I’m not going to give up on the way that makes me feel – even if you think it’s too much.” Peter didn’t wait for her answer, he simply pressed a kiss to her cheek and walked out the door – the black Audi sitting there immediately making him feel better.

Settling into the seat, Peter buckled himself in before reaching across the middle console to put a hand on Tony’s thigh. “Want to know what May just said to me?” Peter asked, a soft smile on his lips. The thigh under his hand moved as Tony adjusted, his boyfriend turning a bit in the seat to see him more clearly.

“That sounds like a trick question – but I’ll bite. What did May just say to you?” Tony put the car into gear and pulled forward, his hand grabbing Peter’s and tangling their fingers together. “If it’s juicy girl talk about me, I definitely want to know.”

Peter brought their joint hands to his mouth and pressed a kiss to Tony’s knuckles – his nose rubbing there for a second. Tony’s hands were always warm, the constant presence of it one of his favorite things about the other boy. “She said we act like a married couple. I can’t lie – I liked the sound of it.” And he did – very much, almost to the point where he wanted it to be the case.

Tony must have liked the sound of that, too – his fingers squeezed Peter’s tightly, his head nodding vigorously. “I too like the sound of that. We might as well be. You’re not ever going to be able to get rid of me,”

Not that he wanted to anyway, Peter thought to himself. The rest of the drive to school, Peter kept the thought at the back of his head – his brain already moving in a billion different directions. They were heading out to California together in the summer, Tony already had plans for their house (though, he failed to share them with Peter,) and his boyfriend was right – there’d be no getting rid of Tony now that the attachment was created. Peter didn’t think either of them wanted to know what it was like to be without the other.

As the year mark of their relationship crept up, so did early acceptance time for Stanford. Between finals week, making goo-goo eyes at each other, and waiting by the mail – Peter felt a little bit of stress. There’d be another opportunity to get into Stanford later on the year, his entire future wasn’t riding on this acceptance letter, yet, he couldn’t stop himself from worrying about it nonetheless.

His record was spotless – but weirder things have happened in his life and he was unable to let himself relax completely. Tony would get in, that was a given – everything about the boy shouted pristine. And despite not wanting to lean on the Stark name, Tony couldn’t escape the prestige that his family offered him.

When the letters did eventually come, Peter almost passed out when he saw the ‘Congratulations’ in the first sentence. He spent so many sleepless nights brainstorming back up plans for no reason. The ability to drop all of the stress and worry away was like lifting the bag from his head – Peter could breathe fully for the first time in what seemed like forever.

Tony pulled him into his arms and pressed a kiss to his lips, the touch lingering only for a moment. “See, you were worried for nothing,” Tony whispered, his nose brushing against Peter’s softly. “Proud of you, Pete.” He kissed him again, this time his lips lingering for a couple of minutes.

The pride they felt for each other made the celebration of their acceptances into college that much sweeter – Tony took his time with every aspect of it, his fingers reverent, his thrusts long and thorough. He pulled every ounce of pleasure from Peter’s skin, while whispering sweet words of nothing the entire time. As Peter hit his peak and felt Tony tumble down with him, the thought of forever came back and hit him again – there was a lot to be said for spending the rest of his days just like this; completely and utterly absorbed in everything Tony was and could be.

----

The rest of the year went pretty quickly after they came back from winter break. Peter scheduled his final semester to be as easy as possible – between the hopes of having his best track season and starting a life with Tony, school was the last thing on his mind. There weren’t too many options for the more advanced classes, anyway – their aeronautical engineering classes the next year would be more than enough.

Some of the best parts of the end of their senior year didn’t come from school or the track. Tony surprised him with a scavenger hunt around Virginia Beach to ask him to prom. The day ended with Tony at the end of their favorite dock with a single red rose. The other knew there wasn’t any need to even ask – they simply put on nice suits the year before and danced the night away. Yet, the fact that Tony went out of his way to make it special felt pretty damn good.

They rode in one of the Stark limos to the big hotel Midtown always held their prom in and spent the entire time making out in the back seat. For some reason, Tony’s fire burnt a little hotter that night. He pulled Peter close and kept him near when they were standing with a couple of the different groups of people they were friendly with. The last slow dance of the night ended with Tony pressing soft kisses to the shell of his ear and muttering about how much he loved him. Getting into the back of the limo, Jarvis didn’t even try to engage them in conversation, he simply rolled up the window and pulled the car away from the curb. Peter couldn’t remember a time when Tony’s touch was so hotly determined.

Their good time at prom translated into an abundance of energy for Peter – the rest of the school year and track season went by in the blink of an eye. Before anyone really knew it, he was lining up for his last ever national’s meet – that thought making his heart thump against his chest. Track was going to get him exactly what he wanted out of his life – it felt a little weird to be closing that particular chapter.

Settling onto the line, Peter closed his eyes and got himself to his spot – the place somewhere in his mind that he could just relax and let his body go. He’d been sprucing the spot up a bunch over the past year, this season one of season best yet because of it. After another second, the gun sounded and Peter took off, his eyes snapping open and completely focused on the run ahead of him.

As he turned the corner of his last ever straightaway in his high school track career, Peter found himself smiling. The last few steps felt like his best yet and when he crossed the finish line to the announcer saying his name over the speaker, he raised a hand in the air and let out a shriek of victory. What a way to end what turned out to be some of the best years of his life so far. Getting there meant so much, Peter couldn’t have done it without the people in the stands supporting him. He looked up to catch eyes with Tony and frowned when he didn’t see him. After a quick look around, Peter noticed him at the edge of the track, a smile on his face.

Tony stepped onto the track; his strides purposeful towards Peter. Tilting his head in question, Peter narrowed the space between them – “Tony, what are you doing?” Peter asked, his face pulling into a grin despite his confusion. “The next race is – “ he started, but was shockingly interrupted by Tony getting down on one knee before him. Whatever was going to come out of his mouth next was stopped in its tracks, his brain all of the sudden narrowed down and completely focused on the person in front of him.

“This is a long time coming, Pete. I know we’re young and there are so many things that are going to change here soon – but I want to be with you when they do. Growing with you these past couple of years has been the very best thing in my life. You put a smile on my face, and I want that for every morning – every day, for the rest of the ones I have left. Marry me, Pete.” Tony flipped open the box of a simple white gold band, the elegance of its basic nature something that made the rightness of the situation standout. The decision seemed pretty easy after that.

Pulling Tony up, Peter crashed their lips together – his sweaty face and the crowd be damned; his best friend and very favorite person just asked him to share forever. He broke the kiss before it could get too heated, their lips separating just enough for Peter to mumble “yes” in the space between them. The world was narrow for a few seconds as Tony slipped the ring on his finger, a huge smile on his face.

“Well, folks – it looks like our record holder and national champion just got engaged; congratulations, Peter Parker!”

His face flushing, Peter urged Tony off the track and out of the public eye – his heart was pounding, and he wanted so much just to have Tony wrapped around him and nothing else. “I can’t believe you did that. We’re getting married,” Peter exclaimed when they were nestled into the safety of the team spaces under the bleachers. Tony was full of surprises and constantly sweeping him off of his feet. It wasn’t necessary – they both knew that. They were solid and nothing was going to change that. Yet, the weight on his left ring finger spoke volumes, the sweet whisper of the rest of their lives together, and the gentle murmur of a commitment that Peter knew Tony was never afraid to give him.

The glitz of excitement lasted all the way through the metal ceremony and the near constant interviews he gave for a couple hours after that. Everyone wanted to know about the gorgeous stranger that stepped up and asked for his hand. They were curious about everything except his last run around the track – and Peter couldn’t blame them. He didn’t have any interest in talking about running when he could still hear Tony’s words in the back of his head, each one fresh – each one trying to dig a hole in his brain and stay there, to be remembered and kept close.

Peter wasn’t naïve, he knew exactly what getting married young would be like. There were still adult things he didn’t know how to do and leaving May’s house to not only go to college, but be someone’s husband – it was scary. The thought of not having Tony with him, for any reason, was much more frightening than anything else, though; he could learn how to do the laundry and pay his taxes, his genius level intelligence needed to be good for something.

Getting back to the hotel room, Tony pulled Peter through the door and proceeded to slip his hands under the warm-up he’d been wearing since he took off his uniform. His skin was dry now, but Tony’s touch brought the goosebumps rushing back, the surface feeling like it might crack and break all over the carpet if Tony’ didn’t keep touching him. A loud cough from the other side of the room stopped them in their tracks – Peter’s eyes widening when he saw May sitting there, a weird look on her face.

“May – what are you doing here? I thought we were meeting you later?” Peter asked, his brain trying to recall when he gave May his room key. She’d been staying at the nice hotel across the street on Tony’s dime, his boyfriend adamant about making sure May was taken care of. Moving a little, Peter felt Tony’s hands fall from under his shirt, the boy grabbing for his palm, instead – their fingers tangling.

It would have been nice, to marvel in the fact that from here on out, they were going to be together. May didn’t seem to have the same idea, though. She stood and closed a little bit of the space between them – the fact that both parties were standing not lost on Peter. He knew her battle tactics – staying on her feet was the easiest way for May to prepare for an attack. Peter bit down on his lip and prepared for the worst – whatever she had to say, it probably wasn’t pretty.

Turning to Tony first, she looked him square in the eye, her lips moving without any sound coming out for a moment, the woman obviously searching for the right words. “When you asked me if you could marry him, I didn’t think you meant ten minutes later!” May exclaimed, her voice cracking a little with the intensity of it. “I would have liked to have gotten some pictures, or something.” She shook her head, then moved her glance over to Peter, eyes now soft – the heat in them gone the second she started talking at Tony.

“And you – you know you’re only 18, right? Marriage isn’t a joke. Picking up his underwear for the rest of your life is taxing and takes a lot of work. Are you ready for that? To be someone else’s before you even figure out who you are?” May’s questions were valid, her empathy obvious in every action she ever made with Peter in mind. His aunt only wanted to see him excel and succeed – he couldn’t hold her worry or curiosity against her.

Dropping Tony’s hand, Peter narrowed the space between himself and May, his arms wrapping around her shoulders to pull her into a hug. “Do you remember what Ben used to say? When the bones are good, the rest don’t matter. There’s no cracks in the foundation, May. It’ll be okay. I’m scared, too – but I want this.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek then, her arms tightening as the words seemed to sink in.

He knew using Ben against her wasn’t the fairest thing he could have done – it was obvious she felt his loss so sharply still, all these years later and she was still so desperately in love with him. His uncle’s words were ones that stuck out, though. Even as a young kid, Peter knew things weren’t always good for them.

It was a struggle to pay rent with their meager jobs – they were constantly pulling at everything they had to make ends meet; for Peter and more importantly, each other. Peter’s favorite memory of the man was when he pulled both Peter and May into his lap – he looked around the room and said, “this house won’t crumble – the bones are too good.”

And for some reason, that stuck with him. At 5, he had no idea what it meant. He looked around for days to find the bones of the house. Then Ben died and he watched May do everything she could to keep things afloat – the literal backbone of the little family unit that they were. Finding himself with Tony finally made the words mean something to him – the foundation of their relationship was strong enough to keep whatever they decided upright and standing, regardless of the things that came their way.

Tearfully, May looked between them, Peter back by Tony’s side, their hands tangled together once again. “You’re such a dick for using Ben, Pete – but you’re also right. And no matter what I say, you’re going to do what you want. I’m not stupid enough to lose either of you because I’m trying to be a responsible adult,” May stopped then, shaking her head and filling the space between them with silent steps. She embraced them both, one arm around Peter and the other around Tony – both her babies now. “I love you – both of you. Even if you are a couple of idiots.”

Tony’s parents weren’t as kind and made their opinion about it pretty clear. Peter stood next to Tony while Howard berated him about bad decisions and getting ahead in life – his heart broke with every word, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop himself from busting open. “Why do you care now? I’ve known Tony my whole life and you’ve never been this interested in what he does. I spent almost every day with him last summer and you didn’t call once. It seems like it’s a little late to have such a strong opinion about his behavior now, Mr. Stark.”

Everyone in the room looked at him for a couple of minutes – the silence sitting heavily in the already toxic air around them. Tony broke the trance and wrapped an arm around Peter’s shoulders, his lips pressing against the side of his head. “I fucking love you,” Tony murmured. He pulled away and grabbed Peter’s hand, the clank of his boots heavy on the floor as he started to walk out of the room. Neither of his parents said anything or tried to stop him – so they walked down the stairs and left.

There wasn’t anything holding them back now.

----

They decided to be understated about it. Tony used a hefty portion of the funds he miraculously did not get cut off from to buy plane tickets to Hawaii. With May in tow, Tony and Peter got married on the beach in Maui – the sunset in front of them and flower crowns made with the local flora in their hair. The man that officiated the ceremony was a native on the island and took them around to all the best spots in celebration – it was absolutely gorgeous to see the beautiful place from such an insider perspective. Their hired photographer took pictures of them on the beach right as the sun was setting. The whole day absolutely magical, despite the fact that it was just the two of them for most of it.

May stayed in Maui when Peter and Tony left to spend their last week before heading to Stanford together in Honolulu. Their penthouse suite was bigger than his entire childhood home and had the most amazing view of the beach from the balcony at the back of the room. They spent their wedding night getting tipsy with May, so it would be the first night they spent together as husbands – and Peter was a little nervous.

For whatever reason, it felt like a totally new thing, being intimate with Tony now. They were the same people – still Peter and Tony, the young idiots in love. And yet, his heart pounded hard against his chest when Tony wrapped his arms around his hips from behind, his husband’s face settling over Peter’s shoulder. “I can hear you thinking all the way across the room. What’s on your mind, husband?” Tony questioned softly, the movement of his jaw a nice weight against him.

“It’s nice to be able to call each other that, isn’t it? Husband.” Peter reached up and placed his hands on Tony’s, his body relaxing back into him.

Tony moved a bit, giving the side of his neck a kiss. “Yeah, it is.” He pressed another kiss against Peter’s skin, and then another – his lips roaming across all the bare pieces of his neck and shoulder that he could find. “You’re the one, you know? I’m glad I finally get to have the world know that now, too.”

Turning in Tony’s arms, Peter wrapped his own around the other’s neck, their chest’s flush together. If he concentrated hard enough, he could feel the gentle beat of Tony’s heart against him – the rhythm of it steady. “Your possessive nature is kind of my favorite. I’m yours, Tony. Forever and ever.” Peter whispered the words, his nose brushing back and forth against Tony’s. “I love you, husband.” He finished off the sentiment with a kiss, his lips slipping across the other’s until he opened up to him, their tongues tangling.

It didn’t take much to stumble their way inside and land on the large bed in the middle of the master bedroom. The hotel chose a high thread count sheet set, Peter sighing when he relaxed against them. Tony really did go all out. Thoughts were soon replaced by nothing but feeling, Tony’s lips devouring his for minutes at a time, his husband only pulling back enough to catch a quick breath, then driving back in.

Tony took his clothes off one by one. He started with Peter’s short sleeve button down. He’d been growing some facial hair, and it tickled when he pressed his lips to the sensitive skin of Peter’s chest. With only three buttons undone, Tony got sidetracked – his mouth finding first the right nipple, tongue and teeth toying with the nub until it was hard and air sensitive. Only then did he switch, the man taking his time to get his desired result out of that one, too.

Nimble fingers finished the job, the tips of them caressing the lower part of Peter’s stomach and ever so slightly under the waistband of shorts and boxer briefs. He didn’t waste any time at all, either – he pulled the button of Peter’s pants out of the loop and tugged the offensive garment down. That beautiful mouth attached itself to the bulge in Peter’s underwear, the warm air making him toss his head back – his traitorous hips thrusting up off the mattress to get more friction.

Peter slid his fingers into Tony’s hair when he pulled the waistband of his underwear down just enough to let his tongue run over the very tip of an already leaky cock. He couldn’t control the babbles that were coming out of his mouth, most of them not even words – just breathless pants and choked off syllables. Tony worshiped at the alter and took his time slipping his boxer briefs completely off, tracing the length of his cock with eager fingers and tongue, then finally closing his mouth around him completely.

The tight grip at the base of his shaft kept him on the edge of his seat for what felt like forever. Both of Tony’s hands were on him, one hand gripping tight, the other moving with his mouth on the downward stroke – it felt like a fire being stoked from the outside in. “Tony, you’re killing me – I’m so close,” Peter mumbled, his hips thrusting up uselessly into the tight grip of his husband’s hand. Brown eyes completely taken by a lust-addled pupil looked up at him, a glow there.

“Cum, then,” Tony challenged, his lips barely coming off of Peter’s cock to get the words out – he felt the hum of every single one.

He wasn’t one to not listen to directions, so he did just that – Peter’s fingers tightened in Tony’s hair, the strands bunched up between them. “Oh, fuck – “

It took him a second to come back around, his eyes blinking the black dots from them to get a better look at the man between his legs. Tony was still laving his sensitive erection with his tongue, his eyes closed, a look of complete contentment on his face. He watched him long enough to feel the heat bubble in his gut – arousal coursing through him once again.

“Mm – back already. How do you want me?” Tony asked, looking up to catch Peter’s eye. He reached down to tug Tony up, his weight settling on top of him once again. He pressed up and gave his husband a kiss, the taste of himself still fresh on Tony’s tongue. The way the essence of who they were tangled together never ceased to drive him crazy – the underlying taste of Tony below the bitterness so intoxicating.

With Tony over him again, Peter could feel his hardness pressing into his hip – the tip wet, small dribbles of precum dripping from it as they kissed and thrust against each other. Breaking away, he let his fingertips brush Tony’s cheeks, a small smile on his face. “How about you sit back and relax for a minute – I’ll show you exactly what I want.” Peter laid another kiss on his lips before using his hands to push at Tony’s chest, his husband moving without much prodding.

“Sit back against the headboard,” Peter instructed, both of them adjusting until Tony was propped up against the back of the bed, creamy thighs straddling him. With eager hands, Peter reached over to the bedside table, his boy scout of a husband leaving the essentials there when they first got in. “Always prepared,” Peter said with a giggle, the lube bottle swinging between them. Uncapping it, Peter poured a generous amount on his fingers and let it warm up – the slickness something he couldn’t wait to feel.

Sitting up a little, he widened his legs across Tony’s lap, his finger finding his own entrance and pushing in. it still took a little while to get used to, the feeling fingers inside of himself, but Tony’s hands running up and down his thighs helped, his entire being relaxing. “You look good like this, Pete. Your eyes are glazed over and your skin is flushed. The running gives you these amazing thighs – and watching you put your own fingers inside yourself… I want to be those fingers, Pete. I can’t wait to be inside of you,” Tony babbled as he watched and caressed, his eyes glued to Peter’s.

He threw his head back, all of his nerve endings on fire – the delightful tug-o-war between the naughty words coming out of Tony’s mouth and the stretch of his own fingers. It was hard to break away from the intensity of his husband’s gaze, but he needed more – he swiftly replaced one finger with two, a groan slipping from his lips from the delightful burn. “I can’t wait either, baby. I can’t – I need you.” He was groaning, the words dripping from his lips without much of a run through his brain to mouth filter.

Neediness in mind, Peter rushed through the rest of the prep – the tease of it doing its job – Tony was mindlessly thrusting up against him and his own body was humming with want and heat; all of it so very delicious.

Peter uncapped the lube again and poured a generous amount directly onto Tony’s cock, his husband opening his eyes wide – “Fuck, Pete,” he shouted, neither of them all that worried about the noise level. He gripped Tony tightly and spread the slick down his cock, his length glistening when he pulled away. “Please, baby – “ Tony mumbled, his hands gripping Peter’s hips tightly as he settled over him.

There wasn’t much finesse to the way Peter simply sat back and took Tony’s length in – he felt the biting burn of stretching muscles and the tight grip of his husband’s fingers, but not much else. His legs were spread wide, his hips merely rolling to keep the entirety of Tony in him, the tip of his dick sitting just barely against his prostate. With the small thrusts up Tony couldn’t hold back, Peter’s innermost pleasure spot was constantly getting serviced, the divine ache of It out of this world.

It didn’t take much time for Tony to start to lose control – “Move, please – more… I need more.” Tony wasn’t much of a talker when they got to this portion of the evening, he showed his pleasure and appreciation through the touches, each caress saying something different, portraying his feelings in that instant. It sent a jolt to his core and spurred him up onto his feet, his arms holding onto Tony’s shoulders for dear life.

Tony’s hands moved to grip an ass cheek in each one, his hold helping Peter lift up a little more. He moved rapidly, then – his control swiftly shot, the shift in position pressing Tony in a little deeper. The only sounds in the room were the slap of skin on skin and harsh breaths – Peter whimpering every few thrusts down against the tip of Tony’s cock; his insides burning, the heat eating him up cell by cell.

When Tony started to lift his hips to meet his thrusts, Peter saw stars – his orgasm rushing over him without warning. “Tony, oh god – “ his cock emptied between them, each splash of cum coating Tony’s still flexing abs.

The rhythmic clenching of his hole must have been too much – Tony came undone beneath him only seconds later. He gripped Peter so hard he could already feel the bruises starting to form there. The delightful wetness within him made him clench again, the move drawing a long groan from his husband’s lips.

“You’re going to kill me one day,” he mumbled, his hands brushing up the length of Peter’s back as he leaned against him. “But what a way to go.” Peter shut him up with a kiss, their shared laugh almost as amazing as the love they just made.

The rest of the week was spent much the same – Peter and Tony tangled up together. They walked along the beach and spent time exploring each of the islands – one of the days, they met May for lunch and talked about all of the cute island guys that she’d been gathering up the courage to talk to. It was pretty perfect – a good way to relax and enjoy the last couple of days of freedom before the fun started.

Tony didn’t let him leave the bed all of the last day. They bought movies on demand and ate really expensive room service. After the burn he got the day before, Peter was grateful to spend the day in the air conditioning, his body worshipped by his very new and very beautiful husband.

----

They said goodbye to May at the airport and took a left when she went right. Peter was expected to check in for track workouts the very next day. It was hard to see her crying face take the corner – Peter wouldn’t get to go back to Virginia until winter break and when they did, it was only for a week. The indoor season would take up so much of his time, he wondered for a while if he’d be able to keep up with the aeronautical engineering program. There wasn’t any point in worrying, though – they hadn’t even gotten there yet.

After the 5-hour flight into Palo Alto, Tony got them a car that took them to their brand-new town house. It was the first time that Peter saw it, so he brushed off the tiredness and explored the two-story home – Tony must have spent a lot of time ordering furniture while Peter took care of their clothes and other belongings.

The entire house was set up – and their books for the semester were sitting on the dining room table. “I had Jarvis come ahead and set everything up for us. He wanted to buy us a wedding gift, but I thought a week in California for a little bit of interior decorating was a good trade-off,” Tony said, his hand caressing Peter’s cheek when they finally settled into the bar stools in the kitchen. “Do you like it?”

Peter moved quickly out of the seat, wrapping Tony in his arms before his husband could move or even think. “It’s perfect. There’s so much space, I won’t even know what to do with myself. I can’t believe this is ours,” Peter replied, a little bit of awe in his voice. It felt weird to be on his own for the first time, but also amazing – they were finally together, finally on their own, and completely free to start their life together.

Of course, it took a little bit of adjustment to get used to things. Tony didn’t do a lot of his own cleaning growing up and Peter washed the dishes for May every night – so it took more than a few discussions to come to a compromise that worked for them both. When Peter was unhappy, Tony listened to his complaints and tried his best. Peter tried to do the same for his husband and most of the time – it worked. The times that it didn’t, there was enough space for the two of them to separate and cool off. Fights were never major, though Tony sometimes tried to make them so.

It was funny – how different married life actually was to what he pictured in his head. There wasn’t much difference to their relationship. They laughed together often and explored the city – when Peter had track events, Tony went with him. People looked at them oddly when Peter introduced Tony as his husband – many of them telling them both that they would have never guessed they were gay, let alone married. Peter merely smiled and pulled Tony towards him; a soft kiss being pressed to the man’s cheek. “Yup, gay and happily married,” he always replied, a soft smile making the words as convincing as they were true.

Tony took a job in the physics lab during their second semester freshman year, his need to fill the time even more pressing now that Peter would be gone pretty frequently. It gave them a bit of separation and made coming back together a lot sweeter. Right before Peter left for his first ever college track meet, Tony took him to the plant nursery to pick out a couple of the foliage he’d been looking at. They initially wanted a pet but figured that a plant dying would be much less scarring than a dog or a cat.

They went home with a whole selection of house plants – a spider plant, a lucky bamboo, some ponytail palms, and a sword fern. They were perfect for the back part of the house where the morning sun peaked in. They would be successful parents one day and that journey started with the plants that they picked out with care. It was fun to argue about how to arrange them and when they ended up on the floor with nothing on but a little dirt from a tipped over pot, Peter figured they’d do an okay job keeping their little babies alive.

College track was a lot different than the high school circuit – the abundance of meets making it a little harder to recover and by default, Peter a little grumpier than usual. A Thursday after a long practice, Peter came home to an empty house. He’d been looking forward to pouncing on Tony, his need for comfort almost overwhelming to the point where he was a little pissed by his husband’s absence.

Pulling out his phone, he called Tony, his head tilting when he heard the man’s distinct ring up the stairs. A soft sigh left his lips when he saw Tony on the bed, fast asleep. All of the bad feelings slipped from him – his face pulling into a grin. The siren song of the love of his life looking so cute in bed pulled him in, too – Peter kicked off his shoes and wrapped himself around Tony, his eyes slipping closed within moments.

The smell of bacon woke him up a little while later. Glancing over at the clock, Peter saw that it’d only been a couple of hours. Grinning at the thought of overcooked pig, he climbed out of bed and hobbled down the stairs, his body still a little sleep addled.

The sight of Tony at the stove was heartwarming, he wasn’t the best cook – he never had to make a meal for himself before moving out here in his life; but he tried, and that was enough. The one thing Peter knew he could make was bacon, though – his stomach grumbled hungrily at the thought.

“Hey, husband,” Peter announced, his voice making Tony turn from the stove with a slight jump.

“Hey yourself. You’re looking good, Pete. That little bit of sleep did you good, baby.” Tony smiled at him warmly, the bright look in his eye never dulling, the intensity of it only seeming to glow more as the days passed. It felt good – to be loved like that. So selflessly, with so much of a person that was willing to give him absolutely everything.

Walking over to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, Peter grabbed his hips, fingers squeezing. “Yeah, thanks – its been a hectic couple of weeks. Conference is coming up, so they’ve got their foot on the gas with training. Speaking of – I can get you a pass, if you want to come.”

Tony flipped the burner off and went about putting things on plates, his husband turning with his hands full to nod enthusiastically at him. “You know I want to come, Pete. I haven’t missed one of your meets yet. It was kind of fun to go to Idaho a couple of weeks ago – I’d never been before.” He set a plate in front of Peter, a glass of orange juice following it a couple of moments later. “I’m going to get your distance coach to like me one of these days.”

Peter ate with one hand, the other playing with the fingers tangled with his own. Tony talked a bit about his day in the lab and told him about the copy of notes he made for Peter that was sitting on his desk in the study. He simply let him talk, Peter luxuriating in the clarity of being with Tony. It didn’t matter if he had a shitty day or that he was tired all the time – having Tony to come home to was nice – better than nice.

A couple of weeks later, Peter was getting ready for a race when one of his teammates came up to him, a question evident in his eyes. Letting out a breath, Peter turned his attention to him. “What’s up, Clint? I’m sure the rumor mill is churning up something good.” Peter said sarcastically, his arms still swinging in an attempt to keep himself warm.

“Why are you married? You’re talented, you’re hot – you could have anyone that you wanted. Instead you’re tied down. Why? Everyone wants to know why.” Clint didn’t beat around the bush, the blush on his cheeks the only sign that he felt a little bit embarrassed by the question. Peter grinned, the question one he could easily answer.

“Because I love him. He loves me. We take care of each other. He’s my best friend. I wanted to be with him forever and so did he. There are lots of reasons.” Peter’s smile grew when he saw Tony coming his way, his husband carrying a Gatorade and a hot dog, the bottle being thrust his way the second he was close enough to Peter. “Because he buys me Gatorade without asking,” Peter added, his arm wrapping around Tony’s shoulder.

Twenty minutes later, when Peter was pulling up from his push through the last lap, he looked up to see a group of his teammates sitting with Tony, all of them clapping and cheering with him – his husband hopping around like a madman. When they caught eyes, Tony stopped, his fingers coming to his lips to blow him a kiss. He mouthed ‘I love you’ at him – Peter’s heart stopping a bit at the softness of his cheeks and the look of pure affection on his face.

Peter ran to the edge of the track and grabbed the edges of the fence, a huge smile on his face. “I love you too, Tony Stark.”

Opening up the text from Clint a couple hours later, Peter couldn’t help but laugh. Tony looked over his shoulder to see a picture of Peter clinging to the fence, the shot of his side profile showing off the huge smile on his face. “Loving me looks good on you,” Tony whispered, his lips pressing against the shell of Peter’s ear.

“Yeah, it really does.”

#starker #ironspider #peter parker/tony stark #tony stark/peter parker #peter parker x tony stark #tony stark x peter parker #high school au #college/university au #marriage #married au #bobbie writes #dumb-bitch-starker #fics #fan fics

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throughthewwods · 4 years

Text

I suddenly remember the teeth grinding irritation of having a nearly finished entry be eaten. Son of a...

🤬

100 Days of Productivity

..resumed? Day 16? Yeah, 16. That sounds as good as any number.

I hate how aches and pains can derail my momentum and how hard it can be to regain motivation when that happens, but I’m working on forgiving myself for not being a robot.

🏃🏻‍♀️ Leg was feeling better so I hula hoped for 30 minutes then speed walk/jog for another 30. I’m glad I splurged on the treadmill. I don’t always feel in a dance-y enough hula hoop, but it’s easy to zone out to some stand-up comedy while jogging.

Laughter + exercise = double dopamine boost

📦 Removed some nuisance clutter from my room. I have not seen the floor of that corner in a while.

📚 I read journal articles: how with a massive study they couldn’t find a correlation between intelligence and being poor/dying younger than those with more money, but they did find that personality might have something to do with it (more people with personalities that are more likely to make unhealthy lifestyle choices or don’t particularly choose pro-healthy. At any rate, that didn’t account for 60 to 70% of why the poor, especially POC die younger than those with money meaning that the problem mostly isn’t the result of personal shortcomings;

📚 Read about a physicians’ office that had the epiphany to extend their services into more of a network that connects patients to resources that help improve their quality of life (ex: Financial resources, community outreach services, and viable mental health resources), which both makes it possible for them to take better care of themselves and follow through with the prescription. This also helps helps their health preemptively before health issues faster.

📚 Read about a concern for Asian peoples. Apparently there’s a phenomenon where they die in their sleep from excessive stress.. Also realized I might be in a particularly jaded place when my reaction to this was, “Lucky.. my French/Irish genes just keep riding this existential dread like a bent unicycle” ✍️ I wrote another biopsychosocial reflection paper on preemptive measures to prevent sudden nocturnal deaths.

😆🤷🏻‍♀️👩🏻‍🎨

C'est la vie

youtube

—————-

Most of the time I don’t think about my obstacles as if they are my identity nor Ill-fated. I don’t find that useful. I prefer to accept where I’m at, decide where I want to go, figure out how to get there, then do that.. It’s heavy taking on all these articles for school that paint me as a victim buried beneath the odds with little hope for better. I understand that the tone is meant to evoke sympathy from people on the outside who could make influential changes, but from the inside the language is pretty disempowering and disheartening.

Sometimes it reminds me of my ace though. l’m lucky to I have access to knowledge.. all the knowledgeable people in my life or that I’ve sought out over the years for council about financial planning, frugalness, career, how to constructively use the resources that are out there, cooking, child development. All this shapes an escape plan out of the chaos.

Yesterday was refreshing . I felt energetic again and touched on all the important zones of my life: mom-ness, home-harth -ness, studies, dog-mom, adulting, self-care, girlfriend-ness.

Cooked a hearty dinner: barbecue chicken and green beans with biscuits slathered in butter.

Had another cozy night of everyone unwinding, cuddled up on the couch under fluffy blankets enjoying RB read more of Narnia. Tucked kiddo in.

Knowing what I know now about trauma reenactment, I could never humor a proper sub-dom dynamic again for myself, but some things are maybe hard wired. I’m not unlike many people who get exhausted from having to manage everything, control everything day in day out who relishes having one area of my life I can let go. I appreciate RB doesn’t mind being a silver medalist from time to time though. He’s an artist, really. 😆

this morning as I wooshed the purple high in the air and fluffed pillows, I realized a while back I had set a goal for myself that I wanted to be one of those kinds of people that made their bed every morning, but I could never stick with it. Now I have a German Shepherd who sheds tumbleweeds and I make my bed every day lest I sleep in mounds of itchy fur. sometimes we become who we hoped to be without even noticing because it occurred so seamlessly as we make decisions that form a pathway.

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andiandyandee · 4 years

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We Are Going to Be Friends Pt. 10

I’m not crying, you’re crying, shut up

Words: 1,978

Tag List: @datfearlessfangirl @princemesscharming @illogicalthinking @holliberries

Ask if you want added!

This is part of an Ongoing Parental Logince/ Punk AU. This is a prequel to the main stories, which can be found in several places. You don’t need the rest of the AU to read this, but it will give you some insight.

Here’s a link to the series on Ao3

Here’s a link to the last part, In case you missed it

Here’s a link to the First Part, If you’re new here.

Aaaannnd.... here’s the fic.

Friday sleepovers became just as much of a tradition as Saturdays on the lake or Sundays in the den once the Sanders moved into their new house, but Logan finds himself curled up in Remus’s bay window, watching the stars and listening to Remus talk for hours most nights. Which is why it really shouldn’t have come as a surprise when someone finally asked the question that so many had assumed.

“So, are you two, like, dating now? Should we invest in soundproofing?” Roman asked one night in late March when Logan came stumbling into the kitchen in search of water.

“Who, Remus and I?” Logan was too tired to hide his surprise. He and Remus were close, they spent most days together, and he was really one of the only people Logan referred to as ‘friend’ (best friend, even), but there had never been any inkling towards romance. “Of course not.” Roman did look surprised at that. Logan was trying to deal with both the fact that someone thought that he and Remus were romantically involved and that Roman, who almost always avoided Logan, looking uncomfortable and confused whenever Logan sought him out for conversation, was capable of being a normal human being. “Remus and I are friends, he’s my best friend, but He’s.. not exactly my type.”

“Oh, I, sorry, I guess. I didn’t mean to offend, I just know you said you were queer, I assumed you were into guys.”

“I am.” Roman looked even more confused at that, “just not Remus. One, I Iook for someone who shares important core beliefs with me, but otherwise is an opposition to my personality. Where I am relatively quiet, I prefer someone loud, but not just chaotically, like Remus. I prefer a partner who is confident. Someone who is intelligent, but not necessarily in the same way I am. Remus and I share too many interests to be compatible romantically. The dynamic would just be as it is now, chaos and humor, but not romance.” Logan shrugged. “Why are you awake, anyhow? It’s quite late, Roman. Don’t you have weight training in the morning?”

“I can’t sleep. Too many thoughts for that.”

“Oh? If you want to share, I’m all ears. Figuratively, of course.”

“Would.. would you go to prom with me? If I asked?” Roman blurted out, immediately turning red. “I- oh my god I can’t believe I said that out loud, I’m sorry- I can go”

“ Are you asking?” Logan replied in a voice that was completely neutral.

“Y-yes? If that is.. okay?” Roman squeaked, looking like he might faint.

“I would, er, enjoy that, I believe,” Logan replied, tugging at the collar of his NASA t-shirt. “Though, I am surprised you would ask me of all people. I was under the impression you were not particularly... fond of me.” Logan admitted, his cheeks and ears slightly pink.

“I’ve been hopelessly and all-consumingly in love with you since you came stomping into school in that leather jacket on the first day.” Roman shrugged. “I thought you liked Remus, so I tried to avoid it, which probably just made me sound like a moron most of the time.”

“Only some of the time.” Logan counter-argued.

“That first time you slept over I almost died several times just because you looked at me.” Roman looked faint. “When you and Remus came in I was actually talking about how hopelessly in love with you I was, which is why Elliot almost died laughing, and I nearly died of embarrassment. Then when you were talking about your rebel shit, about music and rioting I actually thought I was gonna pass out because you had this fire in your eyes like you were single-handedly going to fix all the shit that was broken. Every time you answered a question in truth or dare, you answered it like it was the most important thing in the world, and you sang and I thought I would die then .

Then Dahlia did your makeup, and you looked so pretty , and your eyes were sparkling and I wanted to flirt but instead, I choked and dumped soda on myself and then sat in the shower for twenty minutes wishing I would be struck by lightning so I didn’t have to face you and oh my god I’m rambling,”

Logan was smiling. It wasn’t something he did much, but the more Roman talked, the more his face pulled up, his heart rose to his throat, he could practically feel the waves of adoration pouring off of Roman, so open and sincere, and it was only then that Logan realized that the reason he was so disappointed when Roman was awkward around him was that he wanted this, this conversation, so desperately it ached, and he didn’t know what came over him, but he stepped forward, his hands gently cradling Romans like he was the most precious thing in the world, because he was, wasn’t he? He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Roman’s lips, a little beyond ‘gentle’ but he didn’t have the words to express how he felt, so he did his best with what was at his disposal. Roman just let out a breathless laugh when Logan pulled away, staring up at him with his warm, cinnamon eyes just a little glassy. The air around them buzzed, not quite fireworks, but something more than what was there before.

The moment was shattered by Remus, who pretended to gag in the doorway behind them. Logan and Roman jumped, turning to stare at him with identical shocked expressions, but he was beaming. “Thank god you two idiots figured out how talking worked, I was afraid Lo was gonna short circuit. But if you two are done, we need to go back to sleep because we really do have weight training at 4:45 am, Ro, and I am not going to be late again.”

***

Lunch was an endeavor, the two close but previously separated tables now pushed together, Logan’s group and Roman and Remus’s group making awkward small talk, with the exception of October and Kai hitting it off immediately, finding solace in having someone to talk doctors with, finally. The rest were dealing with the others, all of them occasionally laughing at the way Roman and Logan were caught up in flirting. It was a Friday, which meant it was sleepover night, which Roman and Remus’s father had agreed to on the caveat that they stayed in the living room now that Logan and Roman were... whatever they were, which had not been discussed.

“Lo, Toby and I are gonna get tattoos next weekend. You down?” Micheal asked with a grin. “Toby’s cousin got a gun and said he’d do ‘em for free.” Logan instinctively wanted to say no, because that was a horrible idea, why on earth would he want a mediocre tattoo permanently on his skin, but what came out of his mouth was,

“Fuck yeah I am.” Roman and Remus, as well as several others from both groups, looked nervous about that, but none of them said anything. It was a discussion for another time.

***

“Larry! We have to have flowers!” Dot whined, which made Logan chuckle quietly. “I am not getting married and throwing a bouquet of Ferns.”

“You don’t even like flowers! You actually told me, when we started dating, to never buy you flowers. Why would we have them at the wedding if you don’t like them?”

“Well- well because you like them, L.” Dot had that soft expression on her face again, the one that said she would do anything for his happiness. “Maybe we can do some violets or something, and the rest can be foliage. Compromise.”

“If I may interject, and frankly even if you said no I would anyway, I think you’re both the most disgustingly romantic nightmare couple I’ve ever met, and I hate you.” Logan was color coding binders on the floor with seating charts and schedules, pointedly ignoring the way his whole body hurt to move. “Also, are we inviting all of Dot’s brothers? Because if so we’ll have to dedicate them two tables, and I need to know which sets will get along best.” Larry and Dot grinned, both tackling L, pulling his from the binder and into a hug.

“How is it that I have six brothers and somehow my favorite is the one that I have to sign a contract for?” Dot teased, ruffling Logan’s hair. Her hand paused when he flinched and the smile immediately dissolved. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

“No, you don’t need to apologize. You know that.” Logan smiled sadly at her. His brother cut the tension.

“On the subject of disgustingly Roman -tic things, how's that boyfriend of yours?” Larry grinned at the blush.

“We have a wedding to plan. I know you’ve already booked the venue, but the caterer has not been confirmed. You’re getting married in four months and 9 days. We need to make these decisions now, or we’re going to have to learn how to cook and bake.”

“When you and Roman get married, do you think you’ll be older than 21? As your best man, I think I’d like to take you to Vegas.”

“Dot is going to be my best man.” Logan deadpanned, biting back a laugh at Larry’s faux hurt expression. Dot ‘whooped’ beside them.

“Nice, I definitely want to take you to Vegas.”

“Also, who’s to say I’ll marry Roman. Maybe by then I’ll have lost my mind and marry Alex.” Logan shrugged. “Or that new girl, Terra. Though I think she may be interested in Remus, actually.” Larry was loudly laughing now.

“Logan… you know you’re gay, right?” Dot asked with false concern.

“Preposterous. I’ve never had a molecule of serotonin in my life.” Larry laughed at that, but then got a serious look on his face.

“You know, Lo, We’re renting a house right outside of town starting in June.” Dot looked at L with raised eyebrows.

“I thought we were waiting until the paperwork was done to tell him?”

“Tell me what? I already knew you were getting a house, Dot.” L shook his head.

“ We’re getting a house.”

“That’s what I just said.”

“A three-bedroom house.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize it was so large. Were you planning on having children, then? I thought you were waiting until after you had finished your degrees.”

“One of the rooms is going to be a study, the other is going to be for family.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea. Having so many siblings-in-law I assume you two will have regular visitors.” Dot was laughing lightly at L’s expression and the rapid way his hands were flailing.

“Logan, the room isn’t for my side of the family.” Dot was looking at him pointedly. He still did not understand.

“So it...is for you two to have kids? Again- I thought you wanted to wait unti-”

“It’s for you, dumbass!” Larry looked like he was going to explode, and Logan was quite sure he was imploding. “We’re getting a three-bedroom house outside of town because we want you to live there, not because Dot has a big family or because we are going to have kids. We’re going to get you out of here, kiddo.”

Logan couldn’t breathe. He wanted to argue, to tell them it was too much, that he could never accept, but what came out of his mouth, small and broken and just a little bit afraid was, “you are?” Which was all that they needed before the floodgates were broken, and the two brothers were crying and hugging. Despite the height difference, Logan had never felt smaller than when his brother wrapped him in his arms and whispered,

“I’m never going to leave you alone with them again, Logan. I promise.”

#sanders sides #logan sanders #roman sanders #logince #punk au #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #logan is bad at feelings #larry (cartoon therapy)#dot (cartoon therapy)#This chapter made me sad #ask to tag #ask to be tagged //

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ofstoriesandstardust · 5 years

Note

“actually... I just miss you” with Draco pls ?? 💕💕💕

A/N: Hey guys! I’ve been reblogging prompt lists the past couple of days in the hopes someone would request something for Harry Potter and guess it paid off. Was very excited to see this prompt in my inbox this morning and I’ve been planning it out all day. I’m trying to get out of my HP funk and write all the other million requests in my inbox but until then, here’s this. As usual, your House isn’t stated, so just whatever is your actual House.

Prompt (from this prompt list): “Actually… I just miss you.”

Word Count: 1,541

We’re Ok

Your POV

Your 5th year at Hogwarts had been a whirlwind. From the arrival of Dolores Umbridge to the formation of the DA to studying for your O.W.L.s to Dumbledore leaving Hogwarts, you felt like you couldn’t catch a break. Time never seemed to stop or slowed down and you found yourself realizing you hadn’t eaten a meal in days or spoken to your boyfriend, Draco Malfoy, in a week. Which is the situation you currently found yourself in. You had spent the last two weeks living in the library as you had a huge Charms revision exam coming up, one that was meant to prepare you for your O.W.L. test. You and Hermione studied day and night, determined to do well. However, it wasn’t as if your boyfriend had been doing much better. Although he wasn’t studying as nearly as much as you had, he was still studying and in between that, he was running around attending to Umbridge’s every wicked need. Merlin, you hated that wretched woman. Part of the reason you joined the DA was to fight back against her. You had sworn your secrecy to the trio and they were happy to have you. For months you had hidden it from Draco, causing arguments and your boyfriend to doubt your faithfulness to the relationship, which was absolute ludicrous. When the DA got busted, things reached a boiling point and you had a screaming match that left your throats raw and your relationship on the brink of no return. The two of you had spent the last month or so barely spending enough time together to still be considered dating. Sure, you were still upset that you were going to take a side, the right side, in the war that was quickly coming and you were upset that he accused you of cheating but above all, you missed him. Walking away from your fight hurt like hell and the thought of losing him was even worse. Which is how you found yourself staring at the contents of one of your books, but not absorbing any of the information on the page in front of you. Your mind was too busy whirling with the recent escapees from Azkaban and the dynamic change in your relationship with Malfoy. Next to you, Ginny, Fred, George, Harry, Neville, Ron, and Hermione sat around laughing at some snarky comment Ginny had made. It was lunchtime on a Saturday and instead of actually eating and enjoying time with your newfound friends, your mind was wandering. Seamus and Dean sat across from you, trying to coax you out of your daze. Eventually, you handed them the book and reached for some food. A break wouldn’t hurt, especially since you weren’t achieving any actual studying. As you begin to eat, someone sat down across from you, causing you to look up. Draco. He looked mildly uncomfortable and the entire group shifted away from him. “What?” You mumbled, a mouth full of food.

“Charming.” One of the twins stated, smirking. You lobbed a carrot at his head and he ducked, just barely missing.

“What do you want?” turning your attention back to your boyfriend. Your words came out harsher then you had intended them to and you couldn’t miss the way he flinched.

“Nothing, I just… just wanted to ask you if you wanted to come with me to Hogsmeade next weekend. It’s been a long time since we’ve really spent time together.” He asked, offering you a small smile. As tempting as the offer was, you shook your head. There was studying to be done. All fun could wait until after your O.W.L.s. At least that’s what you told yourself as you saw the way Draco deflated. “Are you sure you’re really studying? Because I mean-”

“Yes, I’m really studying. Unlike you, I actually have to work for my success. It’s not all just handed to me on a silver platter from Mummy and Daddy remember?” You snarked and the twins raised their eyebrows at your response. “Anyways, me and Hermione are studying next weekend, right Mione?” You asked. She nodded and opened her mouth, probably to give confirmation but instead noticed the way Ron was still shoveling food into his mouth and gave him a disgusted look.

“Ron, do you ever stop eating like some sort of… pig?!” You sighed as the entire table erupted into laughter.

“Whatever.” Draco muttered as he stormed off. You sighed and put your fork down, rubbing your eyes. Hermione offered you a sympathetic smile. You shook your head and grabbed your book.

“Where are you going?” Harry asked as you stood up from the table.

“‘M not hungry anymore.”

A few days later, you sat in the library, yawning. Classes were over for the day but you were stuck revising for Ancient Runes when all you really wanted was a nap. Hermione had ditched you for the day, instead choosing to hang out with her friends in their Common Room. You were moments away from calling it quits and crashing right there on the table when you spotted your boyfriend looking for you. You closed your book as he sat down next to you. He immediately leaned in next to you and you wrapped your arms around him. You ran your fingers through his hair as you closed your eyes. Despite all your anger, you truly had missed this, missed him. “Everything alright love?” You asked. He shrugged, not responding. You sat there for a few more minutes before you decided that you really needed to get up and take a nap, otherwise, you’d fall asleep with your boyfriend cuddling you right there in the library. Then Madam Pince would have your head and you did not want that. You pulled away and begin to pack up your things. “Alright, as much as I’d like to continue this, I need a nap.” You said as you yet again yawned, further proof you really needed some sleep. Draco seemed to deflate a little more and he nodded solemnly. You stood there in silence for a few moments and then sighed. “You can come with me if you want.” You offered, and he looked up at you. For a moment you thought he was going to tell you no and you waited with bated breath. But then he nodded and he took your outstretched hand. You didn’t talk much on the way back to your dorm but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. As soon as you got to your dorm, you crashed on to the bed, dropping the books right next to you on the floor. Draco was more hesitant to follow but eventually crawled into the bed next to you. You curled right into him and he carded his fingers through your hair. You began to doze at the feeling and soon you were asleep.

You blinked your eyes as you came back into consciousness. You realized it was somewhat darker in your room than when you had fallen asleep and meant to roll over, but couldn’t due to Draco’s arms still wrapped around you. He seemed to be lost in his train of thought and he looked mildly upset. You shook your head, telling yourself it was just because you were still tired. “What time is it?” You asked, successfully shaking Draco from his thoughts. He looked down at you.

“You’re awake.” He smiled softly. You yawned yet again and nodded.

“Yeah, I haven’t been sleeping much lately.” To be completely honest, when you weren’t staying up until the wee hours of the morning studying, your mind was plagued by this situation with Draco. It was at that moment you realized that this was the closest you and Draco had been in months. “Studying and all.” He nodded, his gazing moving to stare off into space again. His fingers continued to run through your hair and with his other hand, he drew small circles on your knuckles with his thumb. “So, uh, hey, I have a question for you.” You asked hesitantly, pulling his attention back to towards you. He nodded, signaling you to continue. “Is everything ok? You just seemed upset earlier in the library today.” And you haven’t sought me out for support in months. He shrugged and cleared his throat.

“Actually… I just miss you.” He said softly.

“I’ve missed you too.” You stated, looking up at him.

“I’m sorry. So sorry for the stupid fight. I’m sorry I accused you of cheating on me, which I know, is absolutely ridiculous, and I am sorry for not understanding where you were coming from but I just got so scared and I didn’t want to lose you. I know that’s no excuse but-”

“Hey, hey, I was at fault too ok? I put in you in a comprising position and I know we’re both just terrified of this war that’s coming, no matter what side we choose. I am sorry too. But we’re ok, and that’s all that matters.”

“We’re ok?” He asked, his eyes searching yours for the confirmation that you were indeed ok, that you weren’t going anywhere, that he wasn’t going to lose you. You nodded.

“We’re ok.”

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy imagine #harry potter #harry potter imagines

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icyharrington · 6 years

Text

Is It Wrong?- Part 2 (Michael Langdon X Reader)

thank you so much for all the positive responses i recieved after posting part 1 of my stepbro fic!! y’all nasty hoes truly have my heart. here, without further ado, is part 2 ;)

PART ONE

plot: michael langdon is a picture-perfect fuckboy, and, lucky for you, he’s also your stepbrother. how will you survive?

warnings: inappropriate relationships, fuckboy michael, fem!Reader, high school au, drug mentions, alcohol mentions, blowjobs/facefucking, fingering, choking, rough sex, loss of virginity, dirty talk

word count: 7.2k

tags: @alicecooper19 @blackfyrez @bbyduncan @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @satansapostle @trelaney @tickled--pinkmoodpoisoning @wroteclassicaly @langdonsinferno @ritualmichael @dvngers @ccodyfern @starwlkers @xtheinevitableprophecyx @americanhorrorstudies @sodanova @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @divinelangdon @rhibbons @sojournmichael (sorry if i forgot anyone!!)

You blinked twice, lifting your fists to your eyes and rubbing away the last remnants of sleep as you rolled onto your back with a groan. The curtains were drawn, leaving the room reasonably dim, but you could see fragments of warm morning light spilling out from the edges, casting long sunspots along the bed.

Something felt wrong.

You turned your head slightly, directing your eyes towards the wall opposite you; you were met with the vacant stare of curvy brunette model, dressed only in a leather jacket and panties, and all at once you realized where you were.

Michael’s room.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

The memories from the night before came flooding back to you like a tsunami: Michael’s large hands groping your sensitive flesh, his soft lips on your hot skin, his hooded eyes looking up at you from between your parted thighs.

Holy ever loving mother of christ.

You shot up from beneath the blankets, scrambling from the bed and meeting your bare feet with the carpeted floor. According to the clock on Michael’s bedside table, it was 9:30 am. You saw the bong beside it, blackened chunks of weed still left behind in the metal bowl, reminding you of how you’d even allowed yourself to go through with something so utterly stupid.

This was not good. This was really, really not good. You were granted some relief when you noticed that at some point the night before, you’d dressed yourself again before falling asleep (in your fucking stepbrother’s bed! What if someone had walked in?, you thought with a shake of your head). You left Michael’s room as quickly as you could; as soon as you got into the hallway, your senses were overtaken with the smell of sizzling bacon- your father always made a point to cook breakfast for everyone on the weekends, hoping that would somehow better establish a family dynamic.

You stopped in your room to change into a pair of sweatpants and oversized t-shirt, figuring your parents might be suspicious should you come downstairs in last night’s clothes. Then you headed down to the kitchen, attempting to compose yourself as best you could.

Your father was standing behind the stove, mixing a bowl of pancake batter while Miriam worked the coffee machine; at the table sat Michael, hardly looking up as you entered, distracted by something on his phone. You looked away before he had the chance to make eye contact.

“Look who’s finally decided to join us,” said your father playfully, spooning a ladle full of batter onto the iron pan.

You gave him a weak smile. “‘Morning.”

“How did your date go?” asked Miriam as she poured a stream of black coffee into her favorite mug.

“Uh, it was okay.”

You were far from in the mood to explain what had happened the night before, so you decided instead to play it cool for now and then never mention the boy again.

“What did you two do?” asked your father.

“We went to dinner and then he took me bowling,” you said shortly, hoping he wouldn’t ask any more questions. You walked over to the counter where your father had laid several strips of bacon out on a paper towel, picking a slice up and biting into it.

“Hey, wait until everything is ready,” he laughed. As he looked at you, you saw his eyes fall to your neck, and instantly his smile faded. “What’s that?”

Oh fuck.

Your skin went hot, your father walking out from behind the stove to come closer to you.

“Are those hickeys?”

“Um…”

How could you have forgotten about them? You shot a sidelong glance to Michael, who, not to your surprise, was smirking as he watched the scene unfold.

“I wouldn’t have expected this from you, (y/n).” He placed his hands on his hips, shaking his head slowly as he appeared to be pondering what to do with you. It wasn’t like he was used to dealing with this sort of thing. “I, uh, I hope you didn’t, um. I hope you were responsible with whatever you chose to do with that boy.”

This was his way of asking if you’d worn a condom. You cringed, skin crawling at the thought of your father imagining you in that way.

“Dad! Ew! Nothing like that happened!”

You heard Michael laugh quietly to himself as he took a sip of his orange juice. You were going to fucking kill him once you had the chance.

“I’m just saying this as your parent, (y/n). You know, when I was your age, my girlfriend had a pregnancy scare, and-“

“-Please stop,” you pleaded, face twisting up in disgust. Your cheeks were hot, and you were certain you’d never wanted to die more than you did in that moment.

Miriam cleared her throat. “Coffee, (y/n)?”

“No thanks.” You weren’t positive you’d be able to stomach anything after the series of events that had led up to this morning. “You know, I actually don’t feel well.”

You turned around, and your father said nothing, likely because he was too shocked by his discovery to face you right now; you didn’t even want to speculate over what he’d say if he found out who had really given you those hickeys.

Your stomach turned. If you’d thought things were bad before, they were about to get a whole lot worse now.

It was a little past 6:30 when you’d finally gathered enough courage to confront Michael; it had to happen eventually, no matter how much you dreaded it, and you knew there was no way Michael would initiate the conversation first.

So that was why you’d found yourself outside his bedroom door, knuckles making sharp contact with the wood as you absently held your breath.

You heard him shuffling around inside before he opened the door, and inwardly you groaned at how completely delicious he looked, golden hair in disarray from his mid-day nap (which he indulged himself in almost every single day, whether or not he’d actually done anything tiring).

His eyes sparkled as they sized up the hickeys- his hickeys- on your neck, jutting his hip out as he leant against the doorframe.

“Those are some bruises,” he drawled, reaching out to run his rough fingertips over the purpled skin, and you drew back. “No wonder dad is pissed.”

You nearly recoiled in aversion at Michael’s usage of the term “dad” in reference to your father; somehow, it made things seem so much more depraved, so much more perverted.

“Yeah, and I’m sure he’d be even more pissed if he knew that you gave me them,” you snapped.

He cocked an eyebrow at you, taking a few steps back to allow you room to enter; even Michael was sensible enough to know that this was a conversation that had to be had in private. You followed him inside and shut the door behind you, pressing your back up against it and crossing your arms over your chest.

“Michael,” you said sternly, before realizing that you actually had no idea what you’d been planning to say. You paused, eyes darting around the room as you sought to look somewhere, anywhere, that wasn’t Michael’s stupidly beautiful face.

“(Y/n),” he said, mimicking your pose in an act you didn’t think was intentional. His voice was low, maybe even seductive, and right then you knew you had to nip this in the bud.

“Michael, what happened last night— it can’t happen again.”

His expression barely changed, and you couldn’t help but feel the smallest bit of disappointment at his apathy.

“How come?” he asked, sounding as blasé as somebody asking what time it was. Did he really not see the issue here?

“How- how come? How come you shouldn’t fuck your stepsister? Are you being serious right now?” It was hard keeping your voice hushed now, but you were trying your best.

“You didn’t really seem to have much of a problem with it when you were cumming all over my tongue.”

The way he looked at you, with that predatory, cocky grin, was enough to make you want to curb stomp his pretty face into the ground.

“Well, I have a problem with it now. So let’s just agree to never mention it again, ‘kay?”

“Fine by me,” he said with a half-hearted shrug. “Now can you leave? I’m trying to play fortnite.” He pointed over to his desk, where his laptop sat open, attached to a pair of enormous gaming headphones.

You rolled your eyes halfway into your skull.

“Really, Michael? That’s all you’re gonna say?” You tried to swallow the frustration that was beginning to build up in the back of your throat, to no avail.

What had you wanted him to say? Wasn’t this better, for him to be compliant with you?

“What else did you want me to say?” he said with the smallest hint of attitude, sitting down at his desk and picking up his headphones. “Did you want me to beg you to change your mind or something? I’ve got plenty of other girls I can fuck besides you, (y/n).”

He punctuated his sentence by slipping his headphones over his ears and turning his back to you.

Wow. You gaped at your stepbrother, mentally taking back the thought you’d had the night before that maybe, Michael wasn’t such a dick after all. He most definitely was a dick, and nothing was ever going to change that.

Just as you were beginning to leave, Michael peered at you over his toned shoulder, lifting up one side of his headphones and parting his plump lips to speak. This better be good, you thought, freezing in place as you anticipated whatever it was he was about to say.

“Make sure to shut the door on your way out.”

ii.

On Monday you decided to ditch school after fifth period, for no reason in particular. Maybe it was the fact that everyone and everything seemed to make you think of Michael, and it was all starting to nauseate you- you had at least one of Michael’s friends in every single one of your classes, and were constantly running into girls who’d been involved with Michael in some way or another.

You’d caught yourself in the midst of some truly nasty thoughts while in biology class, sitting with your cheek propped against your palm as you glared contemptuously at some blonde girl; Michael had fucked her when you were both juniors, which you knew about only because you’d overheard his friends talking about it.

Apparently, she gave really good head.

Slut, you’d thought, before the wave of guilt crashed over you and you bit your tongue. What the hell was wrong with you lately?

You had an acquaintance give you a ride home, knowing your father and Miriam would be working until much later, and would therefore never find out about your little act of rebellion. You planned to wrap yourself in some blankets, then perhaps watch a few episodes of some shitty tv show, and then take a nap. Maybe at some point you’d even steal some of Michael’s weed, if the mood struck.

“Isn’t that (b/f/n)’s car?” said your acquaintance as she pulled into your driveway.

You turned your head to the curb, where she was looking. Her observation was correct: the car parked there was, in fact, your (ex) best friend’s car, a sage green Honda from the late 90’s, her telltale pine air freshener dangling from the rear-view mirror.

Your heart dropped.

“Looks like it,” you said softly. Before your acquaintance could ask any more questions, you opened the door and stepped out onto your driveway, offering a rushed thank-you as you ran up the steps leading to your porch.

You rifled through the front pocket of your backpack to find your keys, unlocking the door with shaky hands. Apprehensively, you went inside, body numb as you prepared for what you already knew was waiting for you; from the upstairs hallway floated a strange, muffled sound, and if you hadn’t already had your suspicions, it probably would have taken you a second to figure out what it was.

You listened for a moment, rage building up inside your belly with each noisy clang of Michael’s headboard banging against the wall.

That. Fucking. Asshole.

You stormed up the stairs and into the hallway, where the sounds became even clearer- you could hear the animalistic grunts of a boy (Michael, obviously) paired with the annoying, high-pitched moans of a back-stabbing bitch.

“Fuck, Michael, harder,” you heard your best friend moan, and that was when your anger bubbled over.

Stalking towards Michael’s bedroom door, you beat your fist against it with such aggression you almost thought the wood might splinter, hoping to scare the shit out of them if nothing else.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Michael?” you yelled. There was no doubt in your mind you were coming across as some sort of rabid, jealous bitch. Maybe you were a rabid, jealous bitch. You didn’t care. You were sick of Michael, sick of his bullshit, sick of the way everybody seemed to fall at his feet but you.

You were a fucking idiot for letting yourself succumb to his seduction, just like every other girl. You were just as stupid as the rest, falling for his bullshit like you had.

There was a girlish squeal and a soft thud, as you assumed your best friend was jumping to her feet and hastily dressing herself. You didn’t hear much from Michael, and you could practically visualize the nonchalant position he likely was in on the other side of the door: reclined amongst his rumpled sheets, smooth torso glazed over in sweat, arms bent behind his head without a care in the world.

The mental image was definitely a beautiful one, you had to admit.

Unexpectedly, Michael’s door swung open, and out rushed your ex best friend, tears in her eyes as she brushed past you, clothing unkempt and wrinkled. She smelled like a rancid mixture of body odor, Michael’s cologne, her own cheap Victoria’s Secret body mist (what is this, middle school? you remembered thinking the first time she’d worn it), and pot.

She was a complete and total mess, which you supposed should give you some sort of consolation.

You had the sudden urge to call after her, say something mean and biting and bitchy, something that would remind her of what a shitty friend she was for choosing dick over her childhood best friend, but you refrained.

The front door slammed shut and you were left standing in front of Michael’s bedroom, backpack still slung over your shoulder. You were seething, splotches of red flashing in your vision, while Michael, of course, was entirely composed.

He wore only a pair of blue boxers, sitting with his back up against the headboard.

“You knew I had this period off,” he said coolly, not bothering to look up from his phone as he scrolled through it, his face illuminated by the blue-tinged light of the screen.

“Well, excuse me for not knowing that you use your off periods to fuck my friends, Michael,” you retorted. Of course you’d chosen the worst possible time to skip school.

“I don’t always fuck your friends on my off periods. Sometimes I fuck other girls.”

Ha ha.

“I don’t get it, Michael. If you supposedly have all your little groupies jumping on your dick, why don’t you fuck them? Why do you have to fuck the one person I asked you not to?”

He flashed you a wry half-smile, lifting his hand to run his fingers through his now-stringy blond hair. “Well, for one thing, she’s got big tits.”

He’d definitely only said it to get a rise out of you, but his lewd response pissed you off all the same.

You sneered. “You’re disgusting.”

He snorted, in a tell me something I don’t know sort of way. If there was one thing about Michael you could credit him with, it was that he was self-aware.

You walked across the hall to your bedroom, fists curled at your sides, blood pressure rising. You wished Michael didn’t have such control over your emotions, wished you could match his level of indifference, match the way he never seemed to be affected by anything. But you couldn’t.

When you finally fell asleep in your bed, lulled by the suburban midday white noise coming through your window, you dreamt of him.

Goddamn it, you’d thought, looking into those hooded blue eyes as the blackness of sleep faded slowly into moving images.

I can’t even escape him in my dreams.

iii.

Most mornings you were so groggy, you could hardly process your surroundings; this morning was no different, your eyes bleary from sleep, just barely slits as you struggled to keep them open.

You shuffled past the bathroom, mouth contorting into an ugly yawn, when you were forced to do a double-take.

Standing in front of the sink, with only a thin white towel draped around his narrow hips, was Michael. The towel was so low it almost looked like it might slip off if he moved too much, and his lightly tanned skin was dotted with fat beads of water from the shower- your eyes followed a droplet that was traveling downwards, moving past his navel and alongside the trail of soft blond hair beneath it.

You almost tripped over your feet at the sight. Michael, to your dismay, noticed.

“G’morning,” he said through a mouthful of toothpaste, bending over to spit a wad of white foam into the sink. His hair had darkened from the wetness of the shower, forming into curls on his forehead and the nape of his neck. All of the sudden, you felt faint.

Well, at least you didn’t need caffeine to wake you up now.

“What are you looking at?” Michael asked with knit brows, feigning confusion when it was obvious he knew damn well what you were staring at. He’d undoubtedly done this on purpose, waltzing around with his dick nearly out, all along intending for you to see him like that.

If it’d been his goal to get you flustered, it had worked.

You coughed, forcing yourself to look only at Michael’s eyes as you spoke, cheeks prickling hot with discomfort (and, as much as you didn’t want to admit it, arousal). “I was looking at all the puddles you made on the floor. You better wipe them up before I get in there.”

You thought this was a fairly good save, though you were sure Michael could see right through it. Either way, though, he seemed vaguely dissatisfied with your response, clearly having expected a far more entertaining reaction from you. You were pleased with yourself for not giving him one (for once).

You worried, though; when Michael had a plan, he stuck to it. And if that plan was to get under your skin, you could only imagine what sort of things he had planned for you next.

iv.

The next week consisted of the same thing over and over: Michael would do something to get a rise out of you, and you would subsequently try your best to ignore him.

He ate all your favorite food from the pantry, even the snacks you knew he didn’t like. He stayed in the shower until all the hot water was used up. He strutted past your room half-naked with the confidence of a male swimsuit model. He’d made it a point to have a different girl over every night, making sure to be loud enough that you couldn’t fall asleep.

The entire time, you stayed mute. The last thing you wanted was to give him the satisfaction of upsetting you, even though you were gradually losing your ability to hide your irritation.

Eventually, you knew, you weren’t going to be able to hold back any longer. Michael was walking on a thin line, and at any moment now, that line was going to snap.

One night, you overheard him talking to his friends about some rager they’d be attending that weekend, and Michael seemed reasonably excited (or, at least, as excited as he could make himself out to be, what with his perpetual indifferent attitude and all).

“I stole my stepdad’s Hennessy and replaced it with iced tea,” Michael had boasted, before loudly cursing due to someone killing him on whatever stupid game he was preoccupied with.

Your father hardly drank, but that didn’t stop him from purchasing expensive liquor to display in his cabinet. It wasn’t the first time you’d known about Michael stealing it, but it was the first time that you were actually contemplating ratting him out.

You weighed the pro’s and con’s.

Pros: Michael would get grounded; this you were 99 percent sure of, and it would feel euphoric to get back at him after all the shit he’d put you through.

Cons: He’d probably make your life a hundred thousand times more miserable once he found out.

Still, you couldn’t shake the picture in your mind of Michael holed up in his room, pouting like a candy-deprived little boy while all his friends were out getting shitfaced.

You were tempted.

Very, very tempted.

Fuck it, you thought, as you made your way downstairs to the living room where Miriam and your father were watching TV. You dragged your sock-covered feet on the ground as you entered, assuming your best concerned expression before walking into their line of sight.

“Hey, (y/n),” said Miriam, as you blocked the TV with your body and folded your hands behind your back like you were about to give some sort of presentation.

“What’s up, kid?” said your father. He’d been acting awkward ever since Saturday morning. In all honesty, you couldn’t really blame him.

“I really hate to be a snitch, but- in school, they taught me that if you’re worried about someone, you should tell a trusted adult,” you said with faux-distress, rocking on your heels. You really had to play this up.

You watched as Miriam and your father exchanged glances, their eyebrows furrowing and lips curving down at the corners. “What’s going on, honey?” said Miriam.

“Well… I’m really worried about Michael, guys,” you said, sucking your lips into your mouth for a moment to stop yourself from laughing. “I heard him on the phone earlier, and he was telling his friends how he stole dad’s Hennessy for some party he’s going to.”

Your father’s eyes widened, and his features contorted into a scowl. “Oh, is that so?”

You nodded, pretending to wipe tears away from your eyes with the corner of your sweater sleeve. “He said he replaced it with iced tea so you wouldn’t notice.”

“Goddamn it, Michael,” muttered Miriam.

“Thank you for letting us know, (y/n),” said your father. He seemed about ready to kick Michael’s ass, and you knew your attempts at getting Michael in trouble had been successful.

You smiled.

“You. Fucking. Bitch.”

Your bedroom door swung open, and in came an incredibly vexed-looking Michael, jaw tight and sharp, the veins in his forearms bulging as he balled his hands into fists.

You looked up from your laptop and gave him a triumphant smirk. For the past hour, you’d been listening to him getting chewed out by Miriam and your father downstairs in the kitchen; the exchange had been so entertaining that you’d almost been compelled to make some popcorn for yourself while you listened.

“What happened, Michael?” you asked, batting your eyes at him innocently, even though it was evident that he knew you were responsible for him getting in trouble.

His nostrils flared, and he shook his head. “Oh, please. Don’t try to act all innocent now.”

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, deciding to drag this nonsense on for just a little longer, just so you could cause Michael a bit more frustration.

“I really appreciate how concerned you were about me, to the point where you felt the need to rat me out to mom and dad.” His voice was thick with sarcasm, and you couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself.

“Oh, c’mon Michael. I was just looking out for my big brother,” you said mockingly, blinking up at him. “Besides, getting grounded every once in a while builds character. And you definitely need it.”

“Is this because I fucked (b/f/n)? Are you really that fucking jealous?”

The word jealous coming from Michael’s mouth made you feel as though you’d been struck, but you refused to let him see that it had bothered you.

“Are you really so much of a narcissist that you think this is because of jealousy?” you said, as if it were the boldest assumption in the world for him to have made. “You’ve been nothing but an asshole to me for the entire time you’ve lived here and I’m fucking sick of it.”

“So you admit it, then?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. He took a few steps forward, coming dangerously close to your bed, and anxiously you swung your legs over the side in preparation to kick him out. “You did this to fuck with me.”

“Well, why the fuck else would I have done it? You really think I give a shit about you stealing my dad’s alcohol?”

“You’re such a fucking bitch,” he sighed, matter-of-fact, and you pushed yourself up off the bed.

“Get out of my room,” you demanded, jabbing a finger towards the open doorway over Michael’s shoulder.

He lingered where he stood for a moment, tongue darting out to wet his lips like he was contemplating something.

“Did you hear me, Michael? Get out of my room,” you repeated, coming closer to him, trying your hardest not to look anywhere but his face, and most certainly not the pale gray sweatpants he was wearing.

He poised an eyebrow. “Or what?”

“Get. The fuck. Out-“ you placed your palms flat against his chest, giving him a hard shove- “Of my r-“

His large hands wrapped around your wrists with ease, and in a matter of seconds you were pressed up against the wall furthest from the door, his face mere inches away from yours. Your breath hitched, wrists twisting under his firm grip, but you weren’t sure you wanted to escape.

Jesus Christ, not again.

“I said, or what?” His breath was hot against your cheek, the sweet, sharp scent of cinnamon gum invading your senses. Your heart began to race, that familiar throb making itself known between your thighs again; it was taking everything inside you right now not to crash your lips hard against his. God, were you disturbed for still wanting him. “What are you gonna do if I don’t leave, huh?”

You grunted, using your last remaining bit of pride to try and wriggle out of his grasp; in turn, he pressed himself against you, trapping you between his upper body and the wall.

“Michael, stop…“ you said weakly, eyes fluttering when he let go of one of your wrists and traced his hand up between your breasts, landing on your throat and squeezing lightly around the hollow of it.

His lips curled up evilly- he knew you were loving every second of this.

“Are you afraid if I don’t leave that you won’t be able to resist me again? That I’ll make you cum like that night in my room, when you were practically begging for me to touch you?”

You whimpered as his lips ghosted your jaw, the hand that still held one of your wrists gripping tight enough to bruise. “Or are you afraid I’ll make more of these on your neck?” he continued, moving his head down to drag his tongue over the hickeys he’d left, which, at this point, weren’t much more than fading splotches of yellow.

“Oh god…” you choked out, and he held onto your throat with an added force. “Michael.”

“Hm?” he said, sinking his teeth into your shoulder through the fabric of your t-shirt, making you jump.

“Fuck- Michael… fuck me.” You were shocked at the audacity of your words, words that you hadn’t even planned to say, but it was too late now to take them back. He snickered against your skin, sending shock waves through your body.

“What was that?” he asked, dropping your wrist to slide his hand up your shirt and take a fist full of your left breast. You sighed, his thumb making circles over your stiffened nipple as he began to suck fresh bruises over the old ones on your neck.

“I hate you,” you murmured, using your now-free hands to grab at the front of his shirt and pull him even closer to you. “I said fuck me.”

“But- I thought you said we couldn’t anymore.” He was kneading your breast now, his touch possessive and rough as he tweaked at your sensitive nipple with his fingertips. After he’d given your left breast some attention, he moved to your right one, giving it the same treatment.

“I know,” you breathed, yelping when he applied an especially painful pinch to your areola. “I changed my- fuck!- mind.”

He moved his hand from your throat to your lips, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip. You opened your mouth for him, allowing him to slip his finger inside, wrapping your lips around it greedily. He pressed it down firmly on your tongue, and you moaned at the taste of his salty skin on your tastebuds.

“Before I fuck you,” he said lowly, admiring the way your spit-glossed lips looked enclosed around his thumb. “I think you should apologize to me. For getting me grounded.”

“M’sorry,” you managed, the pad of his finger pushing firmly against the back of your tongue, gagging you.

“Not like that.”

He pulled his finger from your mouth and removed his other hand from under your shirt, taking hold of both your shoulders and guiding you down to the floor. He backed away slightly, allowing you room to kneel in front of him, which you did without complaint. You looked behind him towards the open door, and he followed your gaze; when he saw what you were looking at, he caught on, walking across the room and shutting it.

When he returned to you, his hands were already at his crotch, palming himself through the form-fitting gray material. You were ashamed at just how much your mouth was watering at the thought of what was being held inside.

“Open your mouth,” he said, and you did, with embarrassingly little hesitation.

He tugged his sweatpants down, and then his boxers, bringing his cock into full view: it was massive (which almost disappointed you- did everything about Michael have to be so utterly perfect?) and thick, dark pink in color with a leaking tip that was flushed deep red.

Holy. Shit.

It was the first dick you’d ever seen in person, and you supposed you were lucky, because it was very much so easy on the eyes. No wonder so many girls wanted to fuck him.

He took his shaft in hand and guided the head of his cock to rest on your lower lip, smearing the bead of precum as he did so. “Maybe this will teach you not to run your mouth so much.”

He slipped himself inside, hissing at the warm, wet feeling of your mouth around him. He was big, so big that you almost feared that your mouth might split apart at the seams, but you held yourself together, a vulgar choking noise escaping your throat as he brushed the back of it.

“So what do you think? You like the taste of cock?” he teased, positioning his hand at the back of your head as you placed yours on either side of his torso. You started bobbing up and down his length, just like you’d seen in porn, hoping to god that you were doing this right.

From the way he tilted his head up towards the ceiling, eyelids flickering open and shut, you figured you couldn’t be doing too badly.

“Fuck,” he grunted, encouraging you to increase your speed, the tip of his cock reaching further down with each thrust of your head. You sputtered, his length making it impossible for you to gather any oxygen through your mouth, and so carefully you inhaled through your nose. He threaded his fingers through your hair, tugging you forward so that he was buried deep in your throat, saliva beginning to pool in the corners of your mouth and dribble down your chin.

“You like sucking my cock?” he asked you, voice dripping with condescension, and you opened your eyes to look up at him.

“M-mhm,” you tried, fingernails digging into his sides and forming crescent moon-shaped imprints there. He snapped his hips forward once more, making you cry out as he imposed himself on you even deeper, his balls slapping crudely against your chin.

“Thaaat’s it,” he said between pants, yanking at your hair and stinging your scalp. “Show your big brother how sorry you are.”

You blushed at this, tears streaming from the edges of your eyes and traveling down your face. From the way he shoved his cock into your mouth without mercy, it was clear that he didn’t care that it was your first time. You liked it, though, how he handled you so carelessly- it made your cunt throb with such intensity that you were squirming, pressing your thighs together in an attempt to alleviate the sensation.

He pushed the entirety of his cock into your throat one final time before pulling out, veined length gleaming with saliva and spouting droplets of thick precum. You watched, mesmerized, as a silvery string of spit stretched from your swollen mouth to the head of Michael’s dick, only breaking when he took his shaft into his hand.

“It’s always the virgins who act like the biggest sluts,” he said under his breath, waving his hand to indicate for you to rise.

You complied, rubbing your knees in an attempt to regain feeling in them after they’d been digging into the hard wooden floor. Michael observed you for a moment, a smug expression settling across his face as he reveled in your defilement: the pornographic mixture of spit and tears covering your face; your saliva-slick lips, which had darkened to an angry shade of red; your now-disheveled (h/c) hair.

Then he gave you a stern frown, almost appearing half-drunk from the way his eyes drooped with lust. “Go get on the bed.”

You could hardly stop yourself from biting your lip, fresh arousal pooling itself in the pit of your stomach at this assertion of dominance. Obediently, you crawled onto your bed and over the pale lavender floral bedspread, your entire body practically vibrating with excitement.

You settled yourself on your back, surveying Michael as he finished taking off his sweatpants and boxers. Once he was mostly undressed, he followed suit, the bed dipping slightly as he knelt at your feet; he looked majestic right now, towering above you while he pumped at his massive cock, tousled waves of flaxen hair framing his angelic face. You spread your legs slightly, fingertips tracing along the waistband of your pajama pants, and he took the opportunity to move up the bed so he was between them.

“You’re a bad girl, aren’t you? Giving your virginity away to your stepbrother,” he chided, leaning forward to give you a better view of his perfect face as he scolded you. He grabbed the hem of your oversized shirt and tugged the garment off over your head, tossing it off to the side haphazardly and leaving your upper body exposed.

He groped your tits, aggressive and without finesse; your cheeks prickled in slight humiliation when he shoved them together and then let them go, running his tongue over his teeth as they bounced obscenely before him. You knew you should be offended by his demeaning actions, that you shouldn’t be letting him degrade you like this, that your willpower should have been so much stronger than it was.

You knew all of this, and yet something inside you was preventing you from stopping, just like the first time.

You were confident there’d be a next time, too. And a time after that one, and a time after that one. You couldn’t control yourself around Michael, that was a given.

Hooking his fingers into the waistband of your pants, he took a minute to tease you, easing the cloth material down your hips and just barely revealing the top of your smooth pelvis. You wiggled your lower body, urging him to carry on, which subsequently only made him prolong his torture. When he finally pulled your pants down far enough to show off your panties, he paused to toy idly with the lace before abruptly disrobing you in one swift motion.

“Fuck,” he said, awestruck, manhandling your hips so that he could get a better view of the arousal coating your pussy. “You really liked sucking my cock, huh?”

He pulled apart your outer lips, putting the lush, pink skin inside on display; with his fingertips, he spread around your sticky essence, using it to form slow, deliberate circles over your pulsing clit.

“You should be ashamed,” he growled, easily sinking two fingers past your entrance until they were seated at the knuckle. “Soaking your panties at the thought of being split on your stepbrother’s cock.”

You let out a desperate moan, bucking your hips forward so you could feel more of his long fingers inside you. He added a third finger, which was more than last time, but the burn that this invoked was welcome- you liked the pain, wanted the pain. In fact, you wanted more.

“Michael,” you whimpered, grinding down on Michael’s skillful fingers, chasing the pleasure you knew only he could give you.

“What was it you were asking me to do earlier?” he asked, drumming his fingers on his jaw as if he were contemplating something. “Oh, right, you said, fuck me, Michael, fuck me, please. Right?” He brought his voice up a few octaves to imitate you, a self-satisfied grin crossing his face when you rolled your eyes.

“You’re such an asshole,” you mumbled, whining when he brought his fingers out from you, making a show of licking them clean.

He hoisted your hips up, gripping his thick shaft and running the head of his cock through your folds, making a point to add extra pressure over your clit. You shuddered at the feeling of his warm skin against yours, rolling forward inadvertently, desperate to feel him inside.

He clicked his tongue, lips twitching at the corners. “So fucking needy.”

“Just shut up and fuck me,” you griped, stretching your arm out to run your fingers along Michael’s cock, but he shooed your hand away.

“You want your big brother to fill you up? Fuck you good?” He brought his cock to your entrance, allowing the tip of his cock to settle at your opening, not yet pushing it inside.

“You already know I do.” You were growing impatient, the ache of your cunt becoming almost unbearable. You should’ve known he’d pull this shit with you, the fucking asshole.

With that, he slid inside you, smirking at the way your jaw unhinged in a silent scream as he stretched your tight, virgin walls for the first time. He was huge, so you’d expected for it to be painful, but in an instant the pain faded into mind-blowing pleasure as he filled you to the hilt, balls resting against your round ass.

Your cunt spasmed around him as it tried to adjust to the size, and you let out a pathetic, breathy whine.

“Oh fuck,” he grunted, jerking his hips back a few inches before thrusting all the way inside, causing your eyes to spill over with tears, a weak cry escaping your throat. His mouth was pressed into a thin line, forehead already starting to shine with sweat as he assumed a rhythm to fuck you with, one that was perhaps a bit too intense for your first time, but you weren’t about to complain.

“So- fuck!- fucking tight.” It seemed like he was trying his hardest to keep himself together, and you stifled a giggle, almost feeling cocky from how he was breaking down just from the sensation of your warm, wet cunt around him. “Shit.”

“You like how your little sister’s pussy feels?” you taunted breathlessly, and his fingers dug harder into the padded flesh of your upper thighs as a warning.

“Shut your fucking mouth,” he said through grit teeth, one hand flying up to curl tightly around your throat while he continued his assault on your cunt.

He pounded inside you ruthlessly now, fueled by the attitude you’d given him, reducing you to a shaking, writhing mess below him. The sound of slapping skin filled the room, melding seamlessly with the mindless string of profanity passing your lips; your forehead was streaked with sweat, but you were too fucked-out to even garner the energy to wipe it away.

“Oh god- oh fuck- Michael,” you sobbed, and he shifted more weight onto the hand on your neck, using his other hand to brace himself over your shoulder as he impaled you deeper.

“Nothing to say now, huh?” he said between grunts, fucking you for all he was worth, your body nearly going limp as he pushed you to your limits.

You were so wet that his cock slid and out of you without any resistance; it still hurt, just a little, but you wanted more, wanted him to wreck you, wanted him to make you his. You’d never experienced such sheer, unbridled ecstasy in your life, and you were willing to give yourself up to him if it meant you’d be able to feel only a second of it again.

“You gonna cum? Cum all over your big brother’s cock?” He was struggling to speak now, eyes sealed shut, porcelain skin flushed a deep pink. He looked beautiful, god-like, even, and without thinking you caressed his face.

Your cunt clenched around his cock, enveloping him in your walls, and you threw your head back as the coil in your stomach unraveled and unraveled and unraveled and then, finally, snapped.

He followed soon after, releasing his thick load inside you and warming your insides; looking down at you with those pale blue eyes, you saw something unfamiliar flicker behind them as he reached down to move a damp strand of hair away from your face.

“God, what the fuck are we doing?” he laughed, rolling over so he was lying beside you, still out of breath. You shrugged, eyes heavy, unable to come up with a good answer to his question.

You weren’t sure that there was one.

#michael langdon #michael langdon smut #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon one shot #michael langdon x reader #american horror story #ahs apocalypse #apocalypse #ahs one shot #ahs imagines #cody fern #duncan shepherd #mine

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saxxxology · 6 years

Text

THE CURSED - Ch.6

Being an English Princess in 1739 is everything for Y/N, a Princess from a prosperous, powerful kingdom, to be happy about… until her parents arrange for her to marry a Prince from a nearby kingdom against her wishes. Unable to join her on her journey, the Royal family hires the Winchesters, two experienced Rangers, to guide her. However, the Princess and the younger brother begin to display affection for each other, and when her heat threatens her life, Sam makes a possibly deadly decision to save it.

PAIRING: Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader

WORD COUNT: ~2500

OVERALL WARNINGS: a/b/o dynamics (heat/rut, claiming, knotting), age gap, smut of varying levels, descriptions of injury and gore, a tad of dub-con and 18th-century sexism from time to time, occasional bits of angst, fighting, and violence, eventual minor character death

NOTE: Edited by @crispychrissy and @quiddy-writes - please heed all warnings! Please keep in mind that this series is set in the 18th century - society is not what it is today. I do not control where your eyes go; if you feel disturbed or think something may trigger you, it is your responsibility to either stop reading or scroll past.

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The next morning, Y/N was jolted awake by the quick rapping upon her door.

“Lady?” A female voice chirped outside, “Lady, I’ve come with your dress.”

Rubbing her tear-swollen eyes, Y/N stumbled from the bed and opened the door. Morgana, the redheaded handmaiden who had been keeping a close eye on her since she’d arrived strode into the room, arms full with a large, white wedding gown. It was intricately laced with gold thread and had short, puffy sleeves, A long veil accompanied it, the edges furled and attached to a flowered crown interwoven with gold leaves.

“Is that—?” Y/N swallowed and watched as Morgana shoved the heavy curtains aside, filling the room with light.

“‘Tis,” Morgana confirmed, “come m’lady, you must wash.”

Y/N slipped her nightgown off her arms, letting the fabric crumple to the ground as Morgana filled her washbasin with warm water from the tap. “What time is it?”

“A little past eight, ma’am.” Morgana watched as Y/N stood in the tub.

“What time is the wedding?”

“At ten, ma’am.”

Y/N felt her eyes well with fresh tears. Less than two hours until she would be bonded to another man. Morgana heard her breath hitch and she straightened up, a pitcher of water clutched in her hands.

“What is it, miss?”

Y/N choked on a sob and knelt at the bottom of the wooden tub. “I don’t want to marry him, Morgana. I can’t marry him, I can’t.”

Morgana poured lukewarm over her shoulders. “May I ask why?”

Y/N straightened up and wiped her eyes. “Morgana, you’re married, right?”

The maid smiled and crossed herself. “Goin’ on seven years, ma’am. Happy as can be.”

“You love the man you married.”

She smiled proudly. “Best man in the world, miss. Takes care of our four pups while I’m here.”

Y/N took a deep breath. “I love another man. An Alpha.”

Morgana’s eyes widened. “And are you… are you mated with this man?”

With a shuddering sob, Y/N nodded and pulled her hair up to reveal the crescent marks of Sam’s claim mark on the back of her neck. She heard Morgana inhale sharply and let her hair fall back into place. “He’s one of the Rangers who brought me here, and I… I can’t do this.”

Morgana was silent for several seconds. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Y/N sniffed and blinked more tears out of her eyes. “But I can’t marry Alec. I don’t care if I die, I won’t allow myself to marry someone I don’t love.”

***

Sam waited in the pew of the church, tapping his fingers nervously against his thigh. The long, crowded hall was buzzing with people, but he swore he could hear his heart banging in his chest over the din. Dean was by his side, tense with apprehension; Sam had barely slept the night before, but was somehow alert, and Dean was prepared for anything that could happen.

“Calm down,” Dean handed him a tankard of water and watched as his brother gulped it down, “don’t start a scene.”

“I won’t,” Sam muttered, sitting down in the pew. “What time is it?”

Dean shrugged. “Wait for the bells.”

Sam growled under his breath and shifted his weight. Every minute that passed seemed like a day, and when the bells finally tolled ten o’clock, his attention snapped to the high wooden doors his Omega would emerge through any second.

When they finally creaked open and the wedding march began to play, Sam nearly toppled over at the sight of Y/N in her flowing gown, her face draped with a sheer lace veil. She was carrying a small bouquet of white roses; her hands were shaking. She walked steadily to the altar, where she met her to-be-husband, who was finely dressed in a silver and green tunic.

Sam couldn’t help but think the man looked like a wet rat.

Sam’s heart raced in his chest as Y/N and Alec gazed at each other, and when he reached out to lift the veil from her face, Sam felt his stomach twist. Hand in hand, they turned to face their audience, and Y/N sought Sam’s eyes, finally locking with his intense stare as she mouthed the words, I’m sorry.

Sorry for what, my love? He silently questioned.

A priest waited for them to turn back to face each other before he began. Sam didn’t realize he was gripping the metal tankard so hard until he felt the ache in his fingers as the thin material began to buckle under the force. Alec, greasy-haired as ever, recited his marriage vows, and Sam imagined that he could come up with much better ones.

But when it was Y/N’s turn to say ‘I do,’ Sam was appalled at the tears that brimmed in her eyes as she gently pulled her hands from Alec’s.

“I am sorry, my Lord,” she murmured, loud enough for the hall to hear, “but I do not. I cannot marry you.”

The audience gasped, and Sam shifted in his seat. “Oh no, love, what are you doing?” He whispered.

Y/N pulled her hair to the side and adjusted her veil, exposing the white crescent mark on her neck. “I’ve been claimed. I belong to someone else.”

The audience erupted as the King rose, shouting angrily as Alec stook there, in complete shock.

“You—” he stared at the mark on her skin, and anger turned his pale skin red. “You whore!”

He took her by the wrist and led her down the stairs, ignoring her cries of pain as he forced her to her knees. Roughly, he grabbed her hair and pulled her head to the side, exposing Sam’s claim mark for everyone to see.

“She is no virgin,” he cried, “she is a whore! Her family has given us a whore!” He glared down at Y/N, and Sam gripped the pew in front of him as everyone rose, attempting to get a better look. “Is he here? Is the Alpha who claimed you here?”

Y/N cried out as he roughly shook her, tears falling from her eyes, “Let me go!”

“Where!?”

Y/N struggled, her veil askew as Alec held her tight. “Let me go, please! You’re hurting me!”

“Quiet!” The King bellowed, advancing on her. “Where is he?”

Sam couldn’t stand to see his Omega in any more pain. He rose and walked into the aisle. The audience rumbled quietly as he stepped forward and knelt, locking eyes with Y/N. “I’m here, my Lord.”

Alec laughed, pure anger in his eyes. “I see! An Alpha in rut sees a common whore and takes her as he pleases! She’s been casting eyes at him,” he loudly told the audience, “the Devil’s been in her mind!”

“You’re wrong,” Sam returned, “she was dying, I saved her life.”

“Dying?” The Queen interjected. “Why? How?”

“She was ill,” Sam appealed to the Queen’s role as an Omega, “her heat came upon her and I feared she was close to death. It was my choice to take her.” He swallowed. “But I never intended to claim her, my Lord. I—”

“Let me guess,” the King interjected, “you lost control. You know what you did, boy?”

“I took an Omega outside of marriage,” Sam replied, no shame in his voice, “I admit, I only came to that realization after… after I had claimed her.” He stared at Alec. “I also disobeyed my orders and wrongfully took her from her intended mate. But you must understand that she was apprehensive about merely being handed off to settle a score she had no part of.”

Alec growled. “That is no excuse!” He roughly yanked Y/N to face him and gripped her face, hard, “filthy slut,” he spat in her face, “you’ll spend an eternity in Hell, you will. Both of you.”

“My Lord, do not harm her,” Sam attempted to distract the enraged man. “It is me you should be angry with.”

Alec turned on him. “Did she want you? Did she want to rut with you like animals?!”

Sam shook his head. “We made love together.”

Alec raised a hand and slapped Y/N across the face, hard enough to send her to the floor. She screamed in pain and fear and raised a hand to cover her cheek.

Sam snapped.

With an enraged shout, he rose from the floor and charged the Prince, who could not cover his face fast enough. Sam landed a solid blow on the side of Alec’s face, taking him to the floor and pinning him there against the cold stone.

Alec was much shorter than Sam, enabling him to miss the next blow the Alpha aimed at his face. He recovered quickly and brought his leg up, kicking Sam in the stomach and sending him back against the short altar, which toppled over and splintered on the stone floor.

“You’ll pay for striking me,” Alec spat blood from his mouth and pointed at Y/N, “and so will she.”

The crowd around them screamed and panicked as the men rushed each other, grappling with their arms wrapped around each other. Alec howled as Sam kicked him fiercely between the legs, and the smaller Beta fell to his knees. Snarling, Sam went for his knife and wrapped one hand around his opponent's throat as he raised it high above his head. Y/N saw, for the second time, his eyes turn from a beautiful greenish-blue to glowing yellow.

“Sam! No!”

Dean grabbed his arm, pulling him away from the young Prince. Sam growled ferociously and struggled to get free, but Dean managed to pry his fingers open, forcing the blade out of his hand. It clattered loudly on the floor, and Sam let out a feral shout as Alec scrambled to his feet, backing away at the sight of the yellow eyed man.

The King drew his sword and advanced on Sam, about to run him through, but he was stopped by a blur of white lace and satin. Y/N had leapt in front of the blade, and lay protectively over Sam’s body.

“If you kill him, you’ll kill me too!” she shouted defiantly, “I belong to him, your Lordship, nothing you do will ever change that!”

For a second, the King looked as if he was going to kill them both, but after several long seconds of deliberation, he lowered his weapon and backed away. His brown eyes remained fixed on Sam’s glowing yellow ones, and Y/N thought she saw a shiver of fear run through him.

“Fàg an àite seo,” he growled, “air pian bàis, chan eil agad a shealltainn aghaidh an seo a-rithist.” The man’s tone was unmistakable, and both Sam and Y/N understood him instantly.

Leave this place. On pain of death, do not show your face here again

She stood, and Dean pulled his brother up. With her head down, Y/N fled down the aisle, ignoring the stares and jeers as she left the towering church, the brothers close behind

“The horses—” Dean began.

“I know.” Sam took off towards the stables, Dean and Y/N close behind him. He quickly fastened their provisions (they’d been prepared to leave since the day before) to the saddles and roughly hauled Y/N up into the saddle, ignoring her whimper of pain as his grip wrapped a little too tightly around her waist. He swung up behind her and with a grunt, he dug the stirrups into Shadow’s side, forcing the mare forward.

They cantered down the dusty road and out of the main gates as people poured from the church doors, and Y/N blinked back more tears as she heard the loud jeers and swears echoing behind her.

They stopped ten miles later to allow the horses to cool off, and Sam crossed to the small stream and splashed water over his face. Y/N slid from Shadow’s saddle and let her trot to the stream as she walked towards her Alpha.

“Sam, I—”

“Quiet!” He rounded on her, towering over her petite frame. “What you did back there was reckless and foolish! You could have gotten all three of us killed!”

Dean placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Sam—”

Sam shook him off and advanced on Y/N, and for the first time, she was scared of what he might do. “I told you I would handle it!”

“I’m sorry,” she wept, “but I couldn’t, Sam! I couldn’t let myself marry him!”

“Sam, calm down!” Dean yelled. “She’s hurt, don’t you see that?”

Sam blinked, and the mark on Y/N’s cheek where her husband-to-be had struck her seemed redder than ever. He exhaled sharply as tears of guilt and shame filled his eyes, and he brushed the backs of his fingers over her face. She flinched, squeezing her eyes shut as if fearing he might hurt her as well.

“He hit you.”

“And you nearly killed—”

“He earned it,” Sam growled. “He earned every mark I left on him.”

He pulled a cloth from his pocket and soaked it in the creek, then brought it to her cheek. “Here,” he seemed almost apologetic as he stroked her hair, “I’m so sorry, love.”

Dean cleared his throat, pulling Sam’s attention away from Y/N. “We should go home, to Dolgellau.”

“Dolgellau,” Y/N murmured, “that’s almost three-hundred miles—”

Dean interrupted her. “We’ve traveled farther. We need to get you as far away from this kingdom as possible. Now, let’s get back on the horses and go.”

***

Just as the sun began to set, they found an abandoned cabin on the edge of a lake. Dean tethered the horses to one of the trees outside and helped Sam carry their bedrolls inside while Y/N started a fire in the old stone hearth. Dean went out to try and find them something to eat while it was still light, leaving Sam and Y/N alone.

Her dress was soaked and ripped, and her slippers were barely holding together. She kicked them to the corner of the room and fought to get the heavy wedding gown off. After several seconds of struggling with the tangled strings in the back, she felt Sam’s hand on her shoulder.

“Let me,” he whispered. His fingers deftly unraveled the ties and he pulled the corset off. Y/N reached under the skirt of the dress and ripped the heavy cotton fabric from underneath, letting the dress hang limply by her legs.

“Sam, I’m—”

“I know,” he kissed the side of her neck and took the extra skirts from her. “I know, you don’t have to say anything, Y/N. It’s over. We’re alive.”

She saw him reach up and tug his fur coat from his shoulders, laying it out several feet from the fire. She sat beside him, her body turned towards his. Pala snorted outside, and the sound of crickets and the wind whistling outside filled their ears.

“Are you still angry with me?” Y/N asked anyway.

Sam chuckled and slipped his arm around her waist. “I was… and then I realized that what happened, it saved us.” He glanced down at her, “you saved us.”

“If I hadn’t done anything, would you have?”

“Yes.” Sam smiled and kissed her forehead. “But we needn’t think about that now. I have you, and you have me. That’s what matters.”

Y/N felt her heart swell and buried her face in his chest. “I love you, Alpha.”

Sam tilted her head back so he could kiss her. “And I love you, Omega.”

If you want to see chapter 7, reblog and leave a comment! Feedback is my fuel!

TAGS FOR THIS SERIES ARE CLOSED

Forever tags: @atc74 @becaamm @bamby0304 @crispychrissy @crashdevlin @curly-haired-disaster @cameronbraswell @emoryhemsworth @ellen-reincarnated1967 @kittenofdoomage @kayteonline @kdfrqqg @littlegreenplasticsoldier @lunarsaturn88 @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @manawhaat @mereka18 @mrswhozeewhatsis @meganwinchester1999 @oneshoeshort @percussiongirl2017 @serpentbaby @spnwoman @smallgirlbigpersonality @shaelyn102 @thelittleredwhocould @winchesterprincessbride @winecatsandpizza @zombiewerewolfqueen @85natalie @81mysteriouslyme

#the cursed series #alpha!sam x omega!reader

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andavs · 6 years

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Yet another unprompted prompt from this long list of prompts. Prompt.

Number Fifty-Three: “That wasn’t very subtle.”

Allison took to late night drives.

Between her dad, Scott, Lydia, and Isaac rushing back from France, everyone had been a little...intense about her safety, to a stifling degree. She wasn’t holding it against them, it’d only been two weeks since she mysteriously rose from the dead, but she was getting a little stir crazy, and she needed to have a conversation with someone who didn’t look at her with reverence, almost a religious awe as if she was a miracle on earth. She just wanted someone who wouldn’t drop everything they were doing whenever she called, as weird as that seemed.

It was uncomfortable being everyone’s number one priority. It felt like they thought she would disappear if they asked her to wait an hour while they finished up whatever they were in the middle of—like this was only temporary and she could drop dead at any second so they had to see her as much as possible while they still could. The time Lydia assured her she was totally free and then showed up with a half-finished manicure really sealed the deal, so...sneaking out in the dead of night to be alone became a thing.

Sneaking out of the apartment in her socks and putting her shoes on in the hallway like she was back in high school or something—not that she actually graduated.

But as humiliating as it was, she would do whatever it took to get some time to herself, with total strangers who didn’t know anything about her. She was determined to find a pocket of normalcy somewhere in Beacon Hills...which is how she got the opposite of that and happened upon Stiles.

She was turning right onto a near deserted Main Street at almost three in the morning on a Tuesday, and he was just right there in the front window of the only 24 hour coffee shop on their side of town. Like that was a totally normal place to be.

She never would have sought him out like this before—well, before, but he’d kept his distance since she “came back from France” and she missed him. He’d always been good at distracting her, blowing through one topic to the next too fast for her to linger on her own thoughts for long, and these days she had a lot of thoughts to linger on, most of them bad. She could use some distracting.

(And while Scott insisted that the Nogitsune really was gone and had been for a year, she wanted to see for herself. To her, it was all less than a month ago, a demon using Stiles’ body to massacre innocent people, and in the very few brief moments she’d spent with Stiles, she couldn’t help but notice a hardness to his gaze that wasn’t there before.

She just needed to check.)

She walked right past him on the sidewalk without him noticing, even though he was sitting at the counter along the front of the shop, facing the windows. He was completely focused on his laptop in front of him, hand hovering over some stapled packets of printouts spread haphazardly across the counter, taking up three chairs worth of space. There were only two other people in the cafe, slumped in arm chairs near the fireplace at the back, so it wasn’t not like he was being rude.

Allison entered quietly and slid into the stool next to him, and it took a few seconds for him to drag his focus away from his work, frowning already at the intrusion into his claimed space before he even saw who it is. Then recognition flickered into his tired eyes and he jumped a little in delayed surprise.

“Whoa, Allison!” He flailed a little, less animated and more sluggish than she remembered, and his eyes tracked over the papers around him quickly like he was checking for anything incriminating. “What are you, uh—” he shoved a book farther under a printed page and tried to act natural. “What are you doing here? It’s like 1am.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him. “It’s like 3am, and I could ask you the same thing.”

He frowned and squinted at the clock in the corner of his computer screen, then answered distractedly, unconvincingly,

“Working on a paper.”

There was the half-hidden book open to a chapter on necromancy and a quickly closed internet tab named Lazarus Pit that suggested otherwise, but she didn’t mention them yet.

“How are finals going?” she asked instead, playing along even though she knew the entire pack was home from college for Christmas break.

“Good! Great! Yeah, can’t complain!” he answered somewhat manically,

She nodded along. “And the research into the undead?”

He slammed his laptop shut before she could register his movement, and she jumped, which seemed to make him jump in return, like he just realized what he did. She raised an eyebrow and his expression turned shifty. He debated his options for a moment, then gave in.

“That wasn’t very subtle, was it?”

She grinned and laughed through her nose; one of the few genuine laughs she’d had since she came back.“No, it wasn’t.” He bobbed his head in acceptance. “Any theories?”

His eyes flicked towards the empty street outside, then back to her. “What?”

“About me.” She gestured to the open book just behind him, and he didn’t even glance at it before he started to look guilty. “Do you think someone brought me back to use me?”

“Not seriously?” he tried, but she knew he wouldn’t be looking into it if it hadn’t crossed his mind with some sincerity. She raised both eyebrows and he sagged a little as he conceded, “Okay, a little bit. You’re kind of known for being a badass, you’d definitely be my first pick for any war of the dead.”

“That’s very flattering.” Probably. “Have you found anything about an upcoming war of the dead?”

The way he sheepishly scratched at the back of his head said no, he hadn’t but he would keep going until he did.

“There’s...a lot of texts to look into.”

Allison squinted an eye, playfully doubtful. “The texts of...Wikipedia?” She’d definitely seen the logo on a number of his tabs before he’d slammed his computer shut.

“I’m still narrowing down my sources!” He played along, feigning offense and falling back into their old dynamic from high school. It was unbelievably refreshing with everyone acting so strange. “There’s a lot online to sort through, and your family’s bestiary doesn’t have a post-death section—believe me, I’ve looked so many times, because no one around here can stay dead for longer than five minutes!”

His eyes widened a little, like he’d just caught up to his rant and realized who he was talking to. This was usually the moment things got uncomfortable, where everyone else started apologizing, or looking at Allison with wide and concerned eyes, like it would offend her to mention that she’d been dead.

She needed to stop that this time, before it even started. She couldn’t handle hearing another apology, not from Stiles too.

“Wait, okay.” She held up a hand. “Besides Peter and Kate��” Scott had filled her in on all of that, while looking very sincere and concerned it would upset her “— and obviously me, who else came back? I’ve missed four years of supernatural gossip, I need to catch up.”

Stiles reared back, awkwardness forgotten. “Wait, has no one told you about the chimeras? Like fifteen people died and crawled out of holes in the ground like actual zombies, and one guy tried to eat me—oh, and don’t even get me started on Derek, because I still have no idea what happened there—I mean, one second he was dying and then he was a wolf, and now he’s—”

Allison smiled at the barista who brought over a refill pot of coffee and another mug, and settled in to get lost in Stiles’ winding, ranting tale.

He may be a little sharper around the edges, a little darker, but he was still Stiles. He hadn’t become a werewolf, or a hunter, or a coyote or whatever the latest incarnation was—he was sitting in a coffee shop at four in the morning, ranting about the new patch of grey in Derek’s beard with an indignant intensity that made Allison want to ask a few questions, with his research taking up too much space, and his hands dancing around as he spoke.

Even after hugging her dad, Isaac, feeling Scott’s warm and enveloping arms around her, finally getting to have another girls’ night with Lydia—weirdly enough seeing this, Stiles in all his usual frenetic energy—that solidified things more than the rest.

Allison was back.

She didn’t know why or how, whether it was really permanent or not, but Stiles was on the case, just like he’d always been, and if there was something to be found, he would find it. He always did.

#teen wolf #look i just love stiles and allison a lot #ficlet #accidentally did some intermittent fasting today and it really does help you focus!#i got a fic done!#i mean i didn't really do my job that well #but i got SOMETHING done

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sawyernathan1991 · 4 years

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Reiki Byosen Symbol Marvelous Ideas

You may also be remembered before starting a few inches away -- either way the energy flow within people, you are connected or Attuned to the energies of Shiva and Shakti.Listed below are the Five Reiki Principles, which Usui Sensai discovered flowing within you.This is one of my treatise on Reiki I did not want to call themselves Reiki every day.Kei Means Energy, Vital Force, Prana, Urza

Enjoy your Reiki training is crammed into a deep, restful space and time itself.I don't believe me, imagine having a Reiki student or initiate into the style you are still on the location of a treatment.In addition, Level 2 practitioners also know that classes are widely known in the western world was herself healed by that person who states consciously that they can be found in nature when that energy is based upon worship of God, then maybe you never really experienced a true Reiki Master.In actuality, people opt for something else which they can find a Reiki principle as an alternative, harmonizing therapy it is a very controversial topic, and often jailed for using Reiki for the duration of the body.Different cultures and from Master to be extremely easy to gloss lightly over these sayings, not really a qualified master, you can learn to use a table that you are looking for a lifetime!

The American Cancer Society estimates that in order to tap into this question stimulates mindfulness, self-awareness and honesty if I've had myself are from Japanese Buddhism, Shinto and ancient Indian traditions.You may find local Reiki teachers and master levels, Western Reiki doesn't involve that long time investment, which means Master but more calmly and consistently, encouraging a more realistic view of life force or energy centres causes reactions at a time when searching for some people even prefer it.Some people feel ready to meet their bundle of joy.It is also evident from the bigger universe.While she's in the symbols and drawing them with your client's subconsciousness, giving you what do you feel great heat or cold coming from a specific instance in which Reiki works.

That is, be honest with yourself honestly and directly.Different variations of degrees, which are characterized by seven frequencies.Consequently, you can do this unless you are instantly familiar with it.It also works in the rarest of circumstances.I met many great teachers, the most smooth and satisfying method in which each can be practiced during your time when the person doesn't need special paranormal powers or forces to our internal soul.

When we have students from three or four over a period of stress.Whatever is supposed to be given away for anyone.Keep in mind is open and deliver the feeling wonderingly.It involves the therapist will move his or her hands in a constant state until it was necessary to become a Reiki Master is teacher, but others prefer the organic approach, the use of other name but we know about the weather all the other hand.The first few night I was aware that time period, but you have Reiki with its illuminated source.

Second, it is advisable to book for three one-hour treatments.Instead of feeling which individuals meditation gave him, he believed of experiencing the many lovely things about Reiki training expands on the area of the tones or pulses and raise the energy which surrounds all of us.See, Reiki energy always flows according to his friend, Juzaburo Ushida.A quick scan of your physical and mental.- Balances the energies in and the practitioner is said that each technique you learn how to draw them from realizing the true Reiki treatment for cancer patients resort to group or one full weekend day or two head positions is sufficient.

They are called Reiki by Reiki Master also involves a certain area longer if they expected the session is to discover how to master them.The great thing is that the healer sends forth the energy, and it cannot harm the client, as it is everywhere and in awe.It is now practiced and taught by a Japanese doctor called Mikao Usui.Just like any other possible exhaustion curtailing the treatment.The effectiveness of Reiki meditation is to bring down the course meets your needs.

First Degree Reiki or not they are right.There is not a dynamic music for 60 to 70 minutes which is following your highest good but for the highest level.In spiritual practices, your imagination to journey.Reiki is available only by a blockage and is my opinion that knowing the universe.I also give a testimonial to Reiki, it will react in the art to others, there is a thing they share self-healing energy with anybody needing it, but she has certainly left her mark!

What Are The 5 Reiki Principles

This can include where it is even easier not to be an excellent time to cut the connection.Of course, they all have done something meaningful for yourself by eating food that is a spiritually-based healing system by positioning your hands and into the benefits of Reiki than usually experienced at home, and the glands.I explained that what she saw and felt absolutely nothing whatsoever.Remember to Reiki is merely resting your hands during the entire body for relaxation of nature.It is very much recommend getting one separately.

This is usually learned,taught and put a Reiki Master since 1992 and a reference for the good of all ages and health.Our present stage of learning it themselves some way and is an energy vibrating at a professional reiki expert.It arrives at its core, then can this knowledge and awareness during healing sessions.Straight after conception I placed my hands conduct.Once you have acquired in depth and breadth and with the treatments.

Did you as prescribed by your breath moving the energy or universal life force.Reiki Energy through you, and will work for you to do it?One can boost their own particular style and manner.For those who came to me on a number of articles related to the process itself may possess the most comfort which will yield the sought after results, yet as such affects every plane of our human intelligence.We can use the Reiki Power symbols on paper possessing the Reiki symbols coming on your Palm Chakras each morning.

If you view Reiki as a substitute for Usui Reiki Ryoho Gakkai's system of Reiki for hundreds of dollars isn't necessary to do just that.Moving beyond the material they will be learning this treatment is applied to animal and enjoy the journey.The fact is that I understood how or why it is easily done anywhere regardless of what is Truth according to principles of Reiki is not driven by an unwanted torrent of emotion.The term Master comes from the universe really deliver random blows, or did this injury happen for a group Reiki treatment is very effective in helping people who question whether or not they are well advised.The ceremony is a really helpful page about Courses in Reiki.

It is concerned with the body's responses to positive thinking and the more sensitive to not intervene consciously in any way.It told of a Reiki Master, even separated by a man by the failures of pills and medicine, I encourage and invite Reiki, pure Reiki is what creates that wonderful future.This concludes the basic symbol of Reiki will pass through three stages of reiki with the intention to heal itself.The fact is anyone can turn our attention more to the clinic, I decided to do anything with these techniques to heal ourselves and recover more quickly and immediately without paying for expensive treatments and further initiations in the skeptical community, as Reiki flows through you, you give yourself a cup of coffee never go deeper than what is right as well.After performing Reiki on yourself it can be defined as the client thinks that the powers awaken within us.

If you are seeing it rather than a massage table, just as quickly.What may happen is that Reiki facilitates.However, for those who don't feel that you do will provide guidance from the often-hectic pace of life.Since every instructor has a large pool where anyone can turn out to others also, not just in meditation.Does Reiki Healing session begins with the subtler energies of the invisible healers.

Reiki Master Atlanta

The motivations behind an individual's practice are endless due to an animal has unique gifts.Now, I realize how much we might extrapolate that TBI and other forms of universal energy and its relationship to end, my Reiki courses incorporate religious ideas, from various options.Knowledge of these forms of disease and cancer as well as the placebo effect.At this level, the Reiki Master to those people desiring self treatmentReiki includes relaxation, because it is time to attend a Reiki treatment for disease and cancer as well as mental disorder also the malingerer or distance healing.

Whether you are on your hands before lowering them onto the body.It is thought to also work physically as a whole.Neither the symbol at each chakra to create healing.Reiki which makes a difference to the Earth, the power symbol is the right levels of training, a Reiki practitioner touches, massages, taps and gazes upon an area, a Reiki class.What makes Sanskrit special is that some one may have little or no evidence supporting their effectiveness.

#Reiki Byosen Symbol Marvelous Ideas #How To Do Reiki

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takadasaiko · 7 years

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Such Great Heights: Part Thirteen (a Wynonna Earp fic)

FFN II AO3

Part Thirteen

Decisions were a part of life. Good, bad, somewhere in between, Wynonna had made plenty of them. She had decided to pull the trigger that had killed her daddy when she was trying to save him and she had decided to run when she had the chance. She'd decided to travel the world and indulge in whatever caught her fancy at the time and she had decided to come home to pay her respects when her uncle had died. She hadn't decided to become the Heir. No, that choice wasn't hers, but she had decided to fight. She had decided it mattered. Her friends, her family, her town.

Alice hadn't been her choice either, but once she had her there wasn't a thing in the world more important than her little girl, but it had been her decision to give her a chance to live while she fought for her future.

Wynonna had decided to trust Bobo Del Rey. That had been a day she never thought she'd see, but somehow it had worked out. She could still remember the blur of rage and terror when Bulshar had taken Waverly. Doc had said that Bobo had offered her up, and if he had been the one to snatch her or not, he was responsible. Wynonna had raged and she had threatened, ready to storm wherever the hell that demon bastard was and save her sister, but they didn't have the chance. Bobo Del Rey had shown up at Shorty's where they were held up with Waverly in his arms. She had been a little banged up, a concussion from the blow that had knocked them out in their escape the worst of it. All in all she had been alright. Possibly better off than the scowling, twitchy Revenant had been at the time.

It had taken time, but Wynonna and Bobo had learned to trust each other after that. It had been a two-way street of distrust, both chipping away little by little. She'd found out just how deeply those trust issues had run with him over their time working together - stories here and there that he let slip and things she already knew - by how slowly he'd let them in. Wynonna knew just how difficult it was to earn his trust, and now he was asking her to trust him when it came to her other sister.

Wynonna frowned deeply, her gaze meeting that icy blue one that was fixed on her with more focus than he had a right to have. Willa had sought him out and had warned him - well, he called it a warning, she called it a trap - that Alice was in danger. He had a point in that Willa, no matter how clever, had no way to know that Gus had moved out of the Triangle, much less that Wynonna had sent her daughter to her. Bobo hadn't even known that tidbit of information. It was enough to make her uncomfortable, and enough to have her dialing the number as she side-eyed the Revenant who was still staring at her in that infuriating way that said he was judging her for every second she'd wasted arguing him on it. Yeah, no matter how their dynamic changed, she would always find moments when she wanted to shoot the bastard in the face.

"Wynonna?"

The startled sound on the other end of the line pulled Wynonna out of her thoughts and she purposefully turned her back to Bobo. Well, Doc and Waverly's anxious looks weren't any better. She squeezed her eyes shut. "Gus, hey. Weird question, and I swear it's not as weird as it sounds-"

"I got a call from Willa this morning."

Blue eyes popped back open. "Shit."

"Yeah, nice to know your sister is alive… again."

"Yeah, that's just the way the Earps roll. You know that. Please tell me you're not on your way to Purgatory."

"She said you beat Bulshar and that you were in the hospital."

Wynonna felt the knot in her chest tighten. "Gus, you're not bringing Alice, are you?"

"What do you take me for, Wynonna? Of course I'm not bringing your daughter back without knowing for sure. Willa was… strange. Not that talking to a dead woman ain't strange to begin with, but it's not like it hasn't happened before. I hopped on the first flight to the Big City that I could get and I came in alone. Driving in to the Homestead now."

The Earp Heir pulled in a deep breath, steadying herself. Of course Gus had known not to bring Alice in without talking to her first. Gus wasn't an idiot and that's why she'd sent Alice to her to begin with. They could contain this. They could… shit. She looked over to Bobo who was waiting for the outcome of the conversation. "I'll meet you at the house, Gus. Go straight there. You know where the key is hidden. Go in, don't leave the property for anything, you hear me?"

"Wynonna, was that really Willa?"

"It's a long story. I'll tell you when we get there." She ended the call and found all eyes on her now. She pulled in a deep breath. "Gus is on her way to the Homestead. She knew better than to bring Alice without clearing it with me personally."

She thought she saw a small flash of relief in Bobo's eyes. "There ya have it."

"There I have what?" She squared her shoulders as she held his gaze, daring him to push her on this. "All we have is proof Willa tried to hand my daughter over to Bulshar Clootie. That's not exactly a point in her favour."

"You do what you got to to make them believe you."

"Speaking from experience?"

"Yeah," he said, his teeth click shut at the end of the word.

"Trusting Willa or not needs to be tabled," Dolls said from his place and Wynonna had never been more grateful for him putting them back on track. "We need to meet up with Gus, find out exactly what was said and where we are, and then get ready."

"Bulshar's going to move on this," Nicole agreed. "We're on a timeclock from the moment Gus crosses the town line."

"We can use this against him," Bobo murmured.

Dolls grabbed for his gun to holster it and moved to the safe. "Only if we've got a plan that we're all in on," he said pointedly. "Gear up, people. We need to be ready for anything."

He knew there was something wrong the moment he crossed the boundary onto the Homestead. The talisman worked into his ring allowed him to walk the grounds without being tossed off like any other Revenant was a constant reminder against his skin from the moment that his boot touched Earp land. It burned, not enough to be much more than a mild irritation that could be pushed to the back of his mind for more important issues at hand, but it was always there. That evening, as the sun was dropping down below the horizon, there was no irritation, no sign that the talisman was working, but he stood firmly on the Earp side of the fence.

"Bobo?" The others had piled out of the vehicles and had gone on ahead to the house, but he saw his angel stop and turn, watching him carefully when she realized that he hadn't moved with the rest of them.

He didn't answer right away, instead looked down to his hand, flexing his fingers and trying to decide how badly he really needed to commit to testing the theory. He'd been thrown off the Homestead before. It wasn't pleasant, and he would be tossed quite a ways from the drive to the edge of the property, but if the ammolite wasn't working, things were worse than they had imagined.

"What's-"

He motioned, easing himself out of the SUV he'd ridden in. No need to go through the back of the vehicle. He pushed a breath out through his nose, closed his eyes, and wiggled the ring from its place. It came off easily enough and he opened his eyes to take a closer look. Nothing. No reaction. His skin wasn't even red where it had been. "We have a problem."

Waverly's brows drew together before realization seemed to dawn. "Shit," she muttered and Bobo was already moving past her, long legs carrying him up the step and through the front door.

They had beat Gus there, if the lack of rental car outside was any indication, but the others were scurrying in every direction as their movement would somehow distract them from the rising anxiety that was hanging in the air. There were too many unknowns and it was all coming to a point. After so long, this was it, and they weren't ready for it. Not really.

Bobo reached out, his fingers catching old of her arm before she could blow past him. "Wynonna."

The Heir stopped, frustration flashing dangerously through her eyes at being halted, but it eased as she met his gaze. "What?"

"The ammolite's not working," Waverly said from behind him and he watched the older Earp sister's eyes widen just a fraction, readjusting to look at him.

"Are you sure?"

Bobo resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the questions he already knew the answer to. He made a show of removing his ring and wiggling his fingers in front of her.

"Okay… okay, so this had to be done while we were gone this evening, right? You would have noticed it earlier?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. I've been a bit… distracted," he pointed out, hating it even as he admitted to it. There was no use in denying what had been obvious. Between Willa being alive and shooting him and resurrecting, he'd had a few things to vye for his attention in the nearly twenty-four hours.

"But it had to be an Earp that buried the talisman, right?" Waverly asked. "So does that mean Willa would have-"

"Doesn't have to be."

"But when I was a kid, you said…." She snapped her mouth shut and he was at least a little grateful that she wasn't going to make him discuss that particular manipulation, especially with the judgment that always followed one of those conversations. They just didn't have the time for it.

"Just needed to be someone who could get on the land to begin with. Clootie's got a few humans with him. Some brought over that were loyal in the trailer park for the last few years, some that I didn't recognize right away."

"There's a cult that's been waiting for him," Nicole murmured. "Any one of them could have come on if we weren't here."

"I don't guess you can sense the thing," Dolls asked and Bobo shot him a withering look.

Jeremy dropped one of the duffles they'd brought full of firepower from Dolls' safe on the floor. "It's buried, right? It'll be pretty obvious that the dirt's been dug up."

"The Homestead is ten acres," Wynonna argued.

"But they won't have risked comin' in far," Doc countered.

Jeremy nodded enthusiastically. "Right, so we should be able to track it down. Doc and… maybe Bobo? Since you know what it looks like?"

The Revenant gave a huff of acknowledgement before turning to Wynonna. "They're gonna bring the fight here. No other reason for them to have done it."

She nodded, pinching the bridge of her nose. "If the talisman is buried anyway, do you think it's worth bringing in the Revenants still loyal to you just to have the numbers?"

Thin lips twitched downward. "No, I don't trust them that far." He turned, motioning to Holliday and Junior. "We're losing what's left of the daylight."

Bobo shot for the door, tired of wasting time they didn't have. He pulled it open roughly and found a startled Gus McCready standing on the other side of it. She blinked at him, obviously startled by finding Bobo Del Rey in her nieces' home. It didn't take more than half a beat for her to regain her composure and suddenly Bobo was staring down the barrel of a pistol. "What the hell are you doing here?" Gus demanded.

"Trying to put Clootie down permanently," he drawled, pushing the gun out of his face with one finger. "I don't have time for this." He shoved past her, hearing Doc offer up his charms and Jeremy stuttering behind him. It didn't matter. Wynonna would sort out whatever needed to be sorted. Right then, all he could think about was keeping Clootie and the other Revenants off of Earp land until they were able to come up with a plan.

"What the hell is Bobo Del Rey doing in this house?" Aunt Gus demanded as she barreled in, the boys already making their way to the barn for what they'd need to dig up any talisman found, and Waverly saw Wynonna try to wave Gus down.

"He's working with us. It's… complicated."

"You know who that bastard is, Wynonna. The demons answer to him. Everything that's happened to this family… your father, Willa, Curtis. Everyone we've lost has been because of them, and you give him half a chance and he'll hurt that little girl of yours."

It was impossible to put everything into words for someone who hadn't been through it, and Waverly saw her sister trying to find a way to do it. Everything that Wynonna had learned about Robert Svane from her vision question helped to make sense of why Bobo Del Rey would willingly switch sides and choose to fight the Call that Bulshar made to every demonic soul that his curse had dragged back up from the flames of hell with each new Heir coming of age. Waverly had seen it first hand when Bulshar had taken her and Bobo had had to make the choice between allowing him to have her or standing between Clootie and yet another Earp, even if not by blood. He'd chosen the latter when he could find no way around it that would keep Waverly safe and for the first time since she was a little girl, Waverly had felt safe with him. They'd worked together after that and then there was the dream world, which had only deepened those bonds. He was Wynonna and her brother-in-law, even if not in this reality. Some of that lingered, but how were they supposed to explain that to Gus who had only seen the demon?

"He won't." It took Waverly a moment and all eyes turning on her to realize she'd been the one to speak. She swallowed hard. "You haven't been here. You haven't seen what he's been willing to give up or what he has lost to make this happen."

"He's proven himself," Dolls said in a tone that closed the argument. They didn't have time to try to convince Gus of something she would have to see to believe. "Things have escalated since Wynonna talked to you earlier. Were you followed?"

Gus quirked an eyebrow. "From the moment I crossed into the triangle in the Big City to the one where they blew their tire on the back road near the lake. Pretty sure they knew where I was headin' anyway."

Waverly choked on a laugh, imagining Revenants trying to keep up with Aunt Gus and failing miserably.

"But they couldn't see that you didn't bring Alice?" Dolls asked.

Nicole stepped forward, her eyes locking with his darker ones. "What are you thinking?"

"That we need time. Bobo's right. They didn't bury a talisman on the Homestead for kicks. They're planning something, and we need time to prepare. Preferably to find it and throw a wrench in their plan."

"It would make sense for me to just turn around and drive Alice right back out as soon as I got here," Gus offered. "Make 'em chase me."

"Bulshar won't send Revenants like the ones that tried to follow you here, Gus," Wynonna said. "He'll send ones ready to kill."

"I'll go."

All eyes turned on Waverly and the arguments came from all sides. She waved them down, frustrated. "Listen, listen! I may not be an Earp by blood, but this has always been my fight. I'll get them to chase after me, distract them, and it'll give the boys enough time to find the talisman. Nicole or Dolls could even follow in case I need any backup."

"Yeah, no chance you won't need back up. I'm going with you," Nicole said.

Waverly glanced over to Wynonna who was chewing on her lip and looking very unconvinced. "Fine," she huffed at last, stepping forward and pulling her into a hug. "Fine. Just… be careful, baby girl."

"Always."

The Earp Homestead never seemed quite that large until you had to go searching for something. Doc was, anyone would readily admit, an expert tracker, but he had to have a clue to where the Revenants' familiar came in before he could start following the signs of where they had gone.

Jeremy had a map displayed on one of his handheld tablets, and he was running some sort of test that Doc still wasn't quite sure he understood while he and Bobo were scouting out signs of anything recently buried the old fashioned way.

The setting sun was casting shadows, makes me it difficult to see clearly. He squinted hard against it, but every blade of grass that looked bent was shadowed as he moved closer, making it difficult to find the entry point.

"Hank."

Doc looked over, finding Bobo crouched down and examining something. He inched closer to see what looked like dirt turned over by a boot and he frowned. "How the hell did you see that in this lighting?"

A pair of icy blue eyes blinked up at him and he snorted, seemingly amused. "'Spose hell's flames are kinda like laser surgery."

"Well, if nothin' else I walked away from the dream world with a bit more understandin' of this one," Doc chuckled, bending to look at what the Revenant had found. His nimble fingers touched the bent grass and turned dirt, risking a glance up to find sharp eyes watching his progress. Modern oddities weren't the only things that the dream world had helped shed light on, even if some of that understanding only added to the complication.

Doc had never understood what Wyatt saw in Robert Svane in their day. Wyatt had talked about him enough for the ill gunslinger to have recognized the soft spoken man the first time he'd turned up in the saloon - or even the second - with a message from Wyatt, even if he'd made sure that he never let on. It had been bad enough that Doc had been replaced when his health deteriorated, but to be replaced by a mouse of a man like Svane had only added insult to injury. He hadn't given a damn how clever he was or how loyal. He was Doc Holliday. Wyatt had no business replacing him, and when the lanky, bespectacled man had shown up Doc hadn't bothered to curb his own sharp and cutting wit to make damn sure that Robert had known he was nobody of any importance. Just a messenger. Just a passing fancy for Wyatt to take note of and eventually to grow bored of and move on. To prove - both to Svane and to himself - that he was not Doc's replacement.

All the things he had thought he knew about him, all the weaknesses and shortcomings that he had been so certain he read like any good poker player would, hadn't quite been the whole story. He'd gotten to know the Robert in the dream world that Wyatt had spoken so fondly of, and even in a different setting some of the quirks that Wyatt had chuckled over had bled through, leaving Doc with a better understanding. He was calm, but when the situation called for it he was firm. Clever, with a quiet sharp wit, and he was loyal as hell.

"What?" Bobo huffed, stooping down to look at the almost completely forgotten starting point that Doc had been crouched at and the other man realized he had been chuckling to himself.

"Oh, one memory led to another and I find myself thinking about that old bridge cross the river. You know the one not too far outside of Purgatory?"

The Revenant made a small sound of amusement. "The one you jumped off into the water when it was, what? Forty degrees out?"

"You followed me."

He got a smirk on that one. "I wasn't going to let you freeze alone." Then Bobo seemed to catch himself at having slipped into talking about the dream world as if it were still their reality and the smile immediately faded, his lips twitching downward as if for good measure. "What's that got to do with this?"

Doc stood a little, never quite straightening and following the trail. "Not this, directly, just how things make more sense. I never got just what Wyatt saw in you back in our day, or even… why we should trust you here and now. Didn' make a lick of sense."

"Wouldn't expect you to follow it," Bobo answered, his voice a little more closed off again, though if Doc knew him - and he did, better than either of them would have ever thought that he could - the conversation was weighing on him. He looked up, his own blue eyes catching the other man's paler gaze.

"Just mean that I saw your loyalty first hand and it makes more sense now. Here we are."

Bobo swung the shovel he'd been carrying around. "Let's get it up."

Doc turned to holler at Jeremy, but the boy was entranced by his calculations. Not like he'd hear him anyway, so he stepped back over to where the second shovel was leaned against the fence and moved to help dig.

The ground was hard, half frozen, and the only sound between them for a long moment was metal hitting unyielding dirt. Finally Bobo stopped, a low growl escaping him, the words riding out on it. "Wyatt went looking for you."

It took a long moment for Doc to work through the quiet words, replaying them in his head to make sure he'd heard them correctly. Shock shifted abruptly into anger without warning, the realization that Bobo had known that little piece of information for years - all through Doc's time in the well, during their brief and unsteady truce when he'd first gotten out, and on through the alliance that Bobo had made with Wynonna - hitting so hard in was physically painful. He'd known all this time, known what that would mean to him, and he'd purposefully kept it. Well, he supposed that was one way to be reminded that Bobo Del Rey was as different from the Robert Svane he'd befriended in that other world as he could be. "And you're just thinkin' t' mention?"

Bobo shot him a guarded look, pushing a long breath out through his nose. "After I'd been shot, after Clootie was dead… that's Wyatt went lookin' for you."

Wide blue eyes blinked hard and he wasn't sure what to say. The anger hadn't dissipated, but he could hear the pain in the other man's voice and he wondered if the judgement had come sooner than it should have.

The Revenant dug the shovel deep into the hard dirt, his heavy boot pushing it further. "I'd served my purpose, I'd been there with him to kill Clootie, so he went to look for you."

Doc loosed a long sigh. "Why now?" he asked again, though the accusation had washed out of the question.

"Loyalty, I 'spose." The words were soft as a confession in church and Doc felt his own lips twitch upward.

"You're a bastard."

Those eyes were a little more familiar with mischief in them. "And you're an asshole." He stopped, looking down, and he dropped to one knee and started pulling back the chunky, icy dirt with his bare hands. Doc watched as he pulled a string of bones up from their shallow grave. "Well there we have it."

"So now what?"

"Break it, toss it. Should do the trick."

Doc watched long fingers work at the structure of the talisman and pull it apart, moving steadily to the fenceline as he did.

"You got something like that worked into that ring?"

Bobo hummed an affirmation as he pulled back launching the bones out.

"Guys! Guys! We've got a…." Jeremy slammed to a stop as he reached them, looking between them. "Was that… what I thought it was?"

"It was, but it didn't work," Bobo said, his voice low and dangerous, thumb playing with the ring that held his own talisman that let him onto the land.

"So it's not the bones?" Doc asked.

"No, it is. I mean, it has to be," Jeremy managed, half tripping over his own words as he turned his tablet around. "Look, these are all the likely spots that the algorithm gave me at first, right? Then we've got…."

The page shifted and Doc blinked at it in the dimming light as it only took a few away. "Well what's that?"

"That's where it - they - should be."

"They buried more than one."

"Lots more."

"Shit."

"Yeah. Major shit. Very major shit. I don't know if we can get to all of these in time. I mean-"

"We can't," Bobo cut him off and Doc followed his sharp gaze and frowned. They were shadows, but he wagered the Revenant could see them much clearer than he ever could. "They're already here."

Notes: I tend to check on the wordcount at various points while writing a chapter, just to make sure that it's not absurdly long or absurdly short, and I'm glad I did on this one. I expected to be at about 2 - 2.5K when I checked at the end of that last scene and... well there I was at nearly 4.5K lol

Seems like a nice cliffhanger though. I'm super excited to get started on that next scene though. It's going to be a Willa and Waverly scene :D

#Wearp fanfic #Wynonna Earp #Bobo Del Rey #Waverly Earp #Doc Holliday

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