#so please enjoy 2k worth of nonsense

[gutterspeak-remade]

Since you’re open to request could I ask for a lil rhyiona thingy? Maybe something short and sweet? Thanks in advance unless u can’t do it in which case just ignore me lol

They’re standing at the base of an old signal tower, light from Elpis shining down on the flats around them and reflecting off the parts of the metal framework that aren’t rusted to all hell.

“I don’t like heights,” Rhys informs Fiona for what must be about the hundredth time as they both consider the structure in front of them.

He can see her nod in his peripheral. “I know you don’t.”

“Is that why you neglected to tell me until the very last second that the fuse you needed me to replace was at the top of goddamn Barad-dûr?”

“The top of… what?”

Rhys sighs, bringing up a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Never mind.”

A cool breeze rolls through, making him shiver. As if it wasn’t already bad enough that Fiona dragged him all the way out here at whatever unholy hour of the night it is right now. He genuinely has no idea how she even convinced him to do this in the first place, considering he has a pile of overdue paperwork collecting dust on his desk and a meeting with a potential investor first thing tomorrow morning.

There’s plenty of other things he could be doing right now. Plenty of other things.

And yet here he is, standing around in the middle of nowhere with his shoulders hiked up around his neck and bouncing on the balls of his feet to try to generate some semblance of warmth like a jackass.

“Sooo.” Fiona bumps her hip pointedly against his. “Are we going up or what?”

Rhys scoffs in her direction, fisting his hands in his sleeves. “Somewhere along the line, I think you started severely overestimating how much I’m willing to risk my life for you.”

“Oh, come on,” she says. “It’s not that tall. You wouldn’t die if you fell. Well, okay, you probably would. But it would be quick and painless!”

He rolls his eyes. “That is sooo not reassuring.”

Huffing impatiently, she stomps around to stand right in front of him and plants her hands on her hips. “Look, I told Sasha I would take care of this before tomorrow because we all know how cranky everybody gets when the radio isn’t working. August opens his stupid mouth way more often and Athena threatens to kill everybody at least twice an hour and Sasha spends so much time trying to pry those two apart that nothing ever gets done. Annoying pop music is the only thing that keeps us all from self destructing.”

Rhys thinks- and not for the first time- that he is very lucky to have his own private office. “If you were going to take care of it, then why am I here?”

“Because,” she starts, and then falters for a moment before continuing, “I… sort of broke it even more and now I don’t know how to fix it.”

He blinks a few times. “Broke… what, exactly?”

“The fuse? I think?” she says, but it sounds more like a question than a statement. “It was stuck in there pretty good so I tried to rip it out, but, well.”

She makes this vague hand gesture that he’s not sure actually conveys anything meaningful, but he thinks he gets the gist.

“I know it’s a lot to ask for,” she continues, “but I could really use your help on this one. Plus we’re kind of already out here and it’s a half hour walk back to base, so.” She steps forward to lay a hand on his arm. “Please.”

Shaking his head and trying to fight back the impending sense of doom twisting his stomach into knots, Rhys motions towards the very unsafe looking ladder on the side of the tower. “After you.”

It’s a long way up, the structure creaking and groaning ominously around them and the metal railing shuddering with every tiny shift of their weight. He half expects the entire thing to come crashing down before they even make it to the maintenance platform, but the structural integrity of the tower remains sound and they get up to where they need to be in one piece.

It’s colder and breezier up here than it was down below, but at least the view is sort of nice in its own barren and desolate way. The flat desert around them is cast in a purpley hue, sporadic gusts of wind kicking up sand clouds all across the landscape. Even the sky looks different, somehow more vast and unending than it had looked from the ground.

The ground that is. Very far away. He can see that once he makes the grave mistake of looking all the way down.

Shit.

He stumbles backwards until his back hits the central beam of the tower to get a safe distance away from the edge. Which might have been way more helpful had the platform they’re standing on right now been made of something solid instead of grated panels, because he can still see just how high in the air they are through the slats. He squeezes his eyes shut, willing his heart to stop pounding and his breathing to slow because dammit, he’s fine, nothing bad is going to happen and everything is fine.

But what if it’s not? What if the supports start collapsing, or what if the rails around the perimeter give way and one of them falls, or what if what if what if-

“Hey,” Fiona says softly as she takes his hands from where they’re clenched into fists at his sides and carefully works her fingers between his. “Hey. Look at me.”

“I don’t like heights,” he tells her again without opening his eyes. “I really, really, really don’t like heights.”

“I know.” She runs her thumb over the back of his knuckles, and her hands are so warm compared to his. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t- I didn’t know this would be-” He can hear her take a breath and blow it back out. “It’s okay, Rhys. You’re okay.”

That’s funny, because they’re, like, hundreds of feet in the air right now, which definitely doesn’t feel okay. But he forces himself to focus on the sensation of her tracing shapes over the back of his hand until he feels less panicky and more just incredibly, nauseatingly anxious. Which, frankly, still sucks, but at least it’s a considerable step down from before.

Once he feels like he’s able to, he cracks open his eyes enough to look down at her. She’s watching him so carefully, so tenderly, green eyes wide and searching as she continues to hold his hands in her own. And then she smiles up at him, a little hesitant, a little crooked, but still full and warm and earnest.

“Better?” she asks.

He’s not sure how to answer that. It still feels the same- the paralyzing fear of being in danger of plummeting to his death at any moment. But it’s also different, somehow. Farther away. Like he’s here with her and everything else is just a step or two behind them, looming right over his shoulder and chattering viciously in his ears but never quite able to catch all the way up.

So. Maybe not better, not in the sense that it’s all magically gone away. Maybe just… easier.

“A little,” he finally decides to say for simplicity’s sake, and then clears his throat a bit awkwardly. “I, uh. Might have to throw up here in a second, but-”

She takes a very generous step away from him at that. “Over the railing, not on me, please and thank you.”

Wow. He guesses he just found the limits of her helpful patience. Brutal. Rhys gives her the flattest look he can muster. “I was kidding.”

Fiona gives him an even flatter look in return, clearly disbelieving. “If any of it gets on me, I swear I’ll push you over the edge.”

He doesn’t doubt it. After he’s actually sure he really isn’t going to puke, he turns to make his way around the platform towards the fuse box. Fiona attempts to explain what she did as he struggles to figure out how in the hell she even jacked it up this badly. The fuse she tried to pull out wasn’t even the one that was busted. He tells her as much but she doesn’t believe him, insisting that she, quote, “Knows a blown fuse when she sees one, goddammit.”

Which she clearly doesn’t, otherwise he wouldn’t be having to fix her mess right now. She doesn’t have a lot more to say once he points that out. But she does shoot lots of dirty looks in his direction as he finishes the job she attempted to start, like it’s his fault that she can’t handle the cold, hard truth.

Once he replaces the correct fuse and fixes the one Fiona messed with, the lights on the tower come back on and everything seems to be functional. Rhys lets out a deep sigh of relief when they finally get back down on the ground where they belong, swearing to himself up and down that if Fiona ever asks him to do anything like this again, he’s changing his name and moving to the Southern Shelf to dig a complex tunnel system in a snowbank so he can live out the rest of his life in relative peace.

He’s so busy fantasizing about his future as a hermit that he doesn’t notice Fiona creeping up behind him until she pokes him in his ribs to get his attention. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he gripes back, spinning around to catch her hand before she can jab him again because dammit, she knows how ticklish he is.

But it doesn’t appear that her intention is to start a tickle fight, because she rolls her eyes and shakes her wrist free of his grip to twine their fingers together instead.

“I didn’t get to say thank you before you were hauling ass down the ladder,” she says, taking a few steps closer. “So, you know. Thank you. I mean it. And I’m sorry for tricking you to get you out here in the first place.”

Sighing, he brings his free hand up to tuck a loose lock of hair behind her ear. “You do know if you had just told me, I still would have helped, right?”

“Would you have, though?”

Rhys has to think about it for a second. Like, really think about it. “Okay, yeah, no. Probably not.”

She grins and stands on her toes to press her lips gently against his. He’s not sure if she means it more as an apology or just as an incentive to stop being mad, but either way, it’s surprisingly effective. She lowers herself down to stand flat on her feet again after a minute and he follows her, making her huff out a laugh against his mouth that turns into a sigh when he runs a hand up her side. Her breath catches when he pulls her closer by her hips, and he swallows a groan when she closes her teeth down on his bottom lip. When she starts to pull back, he catches her, pulling her close again and again to give her fleeting kisses until she swats him away with a laugh.

“That was easy,” she tells him as she moves both her arms up to wind them around his neck. “One kiss and I’m already forgiven. I’ll have to remember that for next time.”

“Hey, don’t you dare make me feel cheap,” he pouts as he slides his hands past her coat to run his thumbs along the seams of her vest. “And who said you were forgiven? I’m obviously still furious. Seething with rage, actually.”

She nods. “Right. Of course. Luckily, I know exactly what buttons to push to get back on your good side.”

He raises an eyebrow at her dubiously. “And… what buttons would those be?”

“I don’t want to spoil the surprise,” she says. “But I’ll give you a hint.”

“Okay, shoot.”

“Two words.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You and me.”

“Right.”

“In your bed.”

Rhys makes this big show of mulling it over before gasping dramatically and releasing her to grab her by the shoulders. “Pillow forts?”

Fiona laughs so loud it echoes across the plains, taking him by the hand and not letting go the entire way home.

[sweetkingdomstarlight-blog]

truth hurts

Pairings - Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Words - 1704

Warnings - oral sex (m receiving), shitty families

A/N - My first ever Ransom fic, massive thanks to @thicccsimp​ and @mollygetssherlockcoffee​ for reading this over, helping me fix a few things and hyping me up enough to post! This is for @eurynome827​ 2K Challenge, well done on your milestone my love, it won’t be long until you’re at 3K I'm sure. Thanks as always to @buckyownsmylife​ for helping me with the idea too! As always this is not for minors so if you’re under 18 then please shoo.

I was given the lyrics to a Six The Musical song - You can build me up, you can tear me down You can try but I'm unbreakable You can do your best, but I'll stand the test You'll find that I'm unshakeable

Tagging because I think they might like this - @bestofbucky​ @mashep23​

You handed your father the brown paper lunch bag, the one he had left sitting forgotten on the counter this morning. Quickly planting a kiss on his cheek, you turn and make your way into the grand house, leaving him to continue tending to the rose bushes.

You heard them before you saw them, arguing about whatever one of them undoubtedly saw on Fox News that morning. Grabbing a glass of red wine before you sit in the corner of the room and watch them tear into one another, you smirk at the petty insults they often hurled at each other when they didn’t have an actual counter argument.

Sipping on the wine you check your phone for the third time in five minutes, he was meant to be here before you and you need him to be the buffer between you and his family. They weren't your biggest fans and you quite enjoyed riling them up, waiting to see who'd snap at you first. You and Ransom often wagered about who would be the first to burst out into a screaming fit.

They all had such short fuses, so all you had to do was mention something ‘snowflakes’ were concerned with and they all absolutely lose it, at this point you considered it your own private theatre. Normally you like to keep a distance since they weren’t shy in reminding Ransom why you weren’t the right match for him, today however you were needed.

The family lawyer has requested that both you and your father be present for Harlan’s will reading. Both you and Ransom thought he would be getting something substantial from his grandfather and the family wouldn’t be happy, so he would need you and your father there for support.

You sit for twenty more minutes, laughing at the nonsensical crap Joni was pushing as usual, something about jade eggs and where Gwyneth Paltrow decided they should be inserted this week. You hear the front door close and jump up as he finally arrives, running and jumping into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist, another fun way to annoy his family, kissing him deeply and moaning as he gripped you. Whispering into his ear “where the fuck have you been? I’ve had to annoy them all on my own today” he smirks and kisses the tip of your nose before putting you back down and walking hand in hand in the room greeting his family.

It was fair to say he was the black sheep of the family, he hadn’t accepted handouts as easily as the rest of them since the two of you got together, deciding instead to try and make it on his own. He moved into your apartment and gave up the house his grandad was paying for, living off his savings ever since. He had been writing his own novel for the last six months and he was getting so close to finishing, he didn’t want to tell the family and have them shit all over his idea, especially Walt who thought he was the literary one now that Harlan had passed.

You grab two glasses of whiskey and sit in Ransom's lap, kissing his cheek and handing him one of the tumblers. Asking him what kept him so long he tells you he thinks he’s finished and wanted to re-read some of it before he told you. Pride flashes over your face at how thrilled he is and you both do a mini squeal at his news. “I can think of the perfect way to celebrate” you whisper in his ear before licking the shell and telling him to come and find you in a few minutes.

You hear him looking for you a few minutes later and pull him into the cloakroom, kissing him urgently and grabbing his ass “you want to have some fun?” you say kissing down his neck and biting his shoulder. He breathes out a ‘yes’ as you get on your knees, pulling his hardening cock out and licking the tip while he leans against the wall behind you.

“We don’t have time for teasing kitten” he says gripping your hair and pushing deep into your mouth, you lightly gag on his length and hollow your cheeks, sucking and licking at what you can. It doesn’t take long for him to spill down your throat, you smile up at him licking your lips and place a gentle kiss on the tip before tucking him away. He gently pushes you against the wall, gripping your hips and whispering what he plans to do to you later when you get home.

You’re interrupted by a sharp knock on the door and someone clearing their throat, straightening yourselves out you open the door and see his father, Richard, staring down at you both. “Can I help you, Dickie” you ask, smirking at the frustrated expression on his face. He tells you there’s 20 minutes until the reading and the family wanted to discuss what they were expecting, you tell Ransom you’re going to see your father out back and blow him a kiss, sneaking away before anyone can moan at you.

You help out in the greenhouse with some of the planters he’s prepping, talking to him about work and the trip you’re planning with Ransom to New York, when you both hear it, screaming and shouting, your father goes to the house with you, always ready to protect you from those vile people.

You walk in together and Linda snarls at you but tries to hide it as a grin, instinctively you stand next to Ransom ready to jump in and defend him, your father next to you throws an arm around you and places his hand on Ransom’s shoulder in support. Ransom smiles at you both and leans down whispering in your ear “down girl” when he sees how tense you are “they aren’t worth it, I promise you” he winks at your father and turns back to them all.

They were arguing about you, apparently you weren’t worthy of a Drysdale, an argument you’ve overheard on more than one occasion, usually he shuts them down but they don’t listen and just wait until you aren’t around before picking at him again. Linda realising that her son isn’t listening decides to take a more tactful approach “look we just want what's best for you darling, we’re obviously about to come into a lot of money today and you don’t want to be tied to her, she only wants what we have”.

Your father clears his throat in warning, he hasn’t ever raised his voice to these people out of respect for Harlan but now that he’s gone and he will most likely be sacked once they inherit the home he sees no reason to stop. Ransom looks to him and pleads with him not to do this right now and your father nods his head in understanding, before pulling you into a hug and whispering in your ear that they are the problem and not Ransom, he's a good man and he always looks after you. You nod your head and turn to face Linda, about ready to give her a little reality check when the family lawyer requests you all join him in the library, your father is about to walk away when he is asked to stay and join the family also.

You take a seat next to your father, Ransom standing behind you both waiting. Both you and Ransom suspected Harlan would look after him, maybe give him some sort of payout on publication of his first novel, he was always so supportive of the idea that he could write a book too. He’d already helped you pay for college, something the rest of the family could never find out about. Harlan was always so kind to his loyal employees and your father had worked for him for more than twenty years. He was offered help with setting up his own business or even help paying his bills but your father refused, instead requesting that your college be paid for. You weren’t allowed to refuse, you were just asked that you find something that you were passionate about.

The lawyer started talking and everyone in the room seemed to hold their breath collectively, he took care of the smaller items first, most of it going to staff and friends. Then came the bigger stuff, half of his fortune was to be divided between his children equally. The family didn’t even let the lawyer finish what he was saying before they were jumping up and demanding to see the paperwork, appalled that they would only be getting half. He sat calmly and asked them to listen until he was finished, next on the list the other half of his fortune would go to you and his home would go to your father.

You stared at each other completely dumbfounded, the shouts and accusations of the family around you buzz like static in your ears. Ransom stood at full height, acting as a blockade between his family and yours as you both absorbed the news. The lawyer handed out copies of the will for their records and asked that you make appointments to see him and have the necessary arrangements tied up properly. He left swiftly after, obviously recognising that this was about to get ugly.

Ransom swept you up in an embrace telling you to ignore the family and focus on him, your father in the meantime sat reading over what he had been given, speechless for the first time in his life about what had just happened. The family were practically feral, screaming abuse and name calling at the two of you. Ransom stood at full height and told them all to “eat shit” one by one calling them out and advising them to speak to a lawyer, if they could afford one, he laughs at his own joke before pulling you both into a big hug and suggesting you all go out for drinks. “You’re paying” he winks at you and grabs your hand leading you past the angry mob waiting at the door for you.

[keilemlucent]

consequence

(r18+)

gang orca | sakamata kugo x reader

word count: ~2k

a bit of teasing and a bit of payback

warnings: semi-public sex, daddy kink, fem reader, monster fucking

commission for @wufxn!! thank u sm dear :’’^)

--

alright fellas here’s the first of the gang orca commissions!!! enjoy some good monster fucking food <3

Messing with Kugo had... consequences.

None that you didn’t enjoy—

You knew exactly what you were getting into, slipping your hand far too high up his thigh during dinner. You felt his firm flesh tense under your touch, his breath getting deeper and harsher as you traced nonsense shapes over the fabric of his trousers.

You kept a small smile on your lips the whole time, relaxing against his side despite the obvious, silent tension that was growing.

The dinner was a group affair, other heroes and their partners all chatting and munching for some much needed social time. As much as you liked these sorts of gatherings, and seeing Kugo so much more relaxed than normal, you couldn’t not rile him up, just a little.

(It was a lot.)

Your stunt had you cornered in one of the lavish, private bathrooms, Kugo blocking the door as you stared up at him with a dry mouth and wide eyes.

“You left the door unlocked,” His voice rolled deep across the room. “Were you, by chance, wanting me to barge in on you after you’ve been such a brat?”

“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” Your expression slid to a grin, popping onto the small ledge around the sink, knowing that the newly exposed skin of your thighs under your skirt must’ve been driving him wild.

“You don’t?” He chuckled, something forbidding in his tone as he began to unbutton the jacket he wore. “I highly doubt that.”

“I know you’ve been pretty excited all night,” You hummed, kicking your legs with a devious smile.

You were truly getting whatever was coming your way.

Kugo was on you in a mere moment, slotting between your legs and parting your thighs with a grip that could bruise. It was the first of many aches, not that you were complaining.

“It’s hard not to be, with you being so openly whorish,” The words weren’t spat, but rather spoke like a prayer as he towered over you, taloned-hands settling just above your hips.

His gaze was purely hungry, red eyes dilated and focused purely and solely on you. Kugo towered over you, shoulders hunched just enough to make your stomach lurch in the most pleasant way.

“That’s not a very nice thing to say about me,” You pouted half-heartedly as his hands dipped under your top. You shuddered at his touch, knowing he’d notice.

Briefly, your gaze veered to the door. Although it was locked, the social hour was meters away, the din of voices floating with the light music of the venue.

Kugo pressed you back into the mirror, tearing at the fabric of your top and skirt with abandon. You sputtered out a complaint, mindful that these clothes were all you had and as much as you wanted to be dicked-down, you didn’t know if the humiliation was worth it.

(It was.)

“I don’t think ‘nice’ is really in the cards today, hm?” Kugo’s words should’ve held some humor, but they sounded far more serious with the rumble of his voice so close to your ear, tapered tongue licking from around your pulse point and jaw.

Truthfully, no, you definitely didn’t deserve much niceness after being an absolutely insufferable tease and possible embarrassment—

But that didn’t mean you wouldn’t try.

“I’m sorry, daddy,” You let the name roll off your tongue. “I just couldn’t help myself.”

Kugo growled but didn’t reply. All he did was press you harder back into the mirror, pulling back to let his gaze bore into you. You swallowed at the sight of spit wetting his exposed teeth.

“I-I mean,”  You cursed your stutter. “You just look so good—“

Flattery didn’t work when you’d pushed Keigo this far and gotten him this worked up, you knew this, but you would be damned if you didn’t try.

So, you fanned the flames instead.

“And seeing all of your coworkers making eyes at you just got me a little...” You hummed, smirking at the searing heat of his breath over your collarbones. “Needy, you know?”

Kugo hummed, idly shredding the rest of your clothes and tossing them to the ground.

“Is my little one is a little jealous?” Kugo chuckled, some of his ire dissolved.

“Maybe.”

It was true. Though all of his colleagues were kind and viewed the two of you well, that didn’t mean that they were gorgeous and intimidating.

(You were playing up to get dicked down better, but that’s beside the point.)

You yelped as Kugo flipped you by the hips, large body folding over yours. With your stomach flat to the cold porcelain of the sink, all you could see was Kugo’s massive form swallowing up yours underneath him. When you tried to turn away from it, cheeks hot, he simply straightened your gaze with a harsh hand on your jaw.

His hips pressed against the curve of your ass, something hard and hot reminding you of your goal in all this.

“You just need a bit of extra attention?” Kugo rolled his eyes, unbuckling his pants audibly. “I thought I’d taught you better than this— You should’ve just asked.

You whined as he snapped the elastic on your panties, the fabric tearing and falling to the floor.

One of his clawed, thick fingers ran up your slit, Kugo growling lowly a moment later, “You’re already so filthy. Who’s all this for?”

“Y-you, daddy,” You swallowed, forcing your gaze to stay on him, behind you, in the mirror.

Kugo was far more focused on teasing at your clit and entrance, spreading slick and dirtying your thighs. Any little pleas and writhing were silenced or stilled with firm words and a harsh hand pressing into your lower back.

He was teasing on purpose, you knew. The contrast of the hard pressing of his body and his barely-there touches was evidence of that.

You keened, burying your face in your arms, “Please, Kugo, they’re gonna notice— “

You were cut off with a short smack to your ass and a yelp. You slapped your hand over your mouth, cursing your own volume.

“Why are you complaining? Isn’t this what you wanted?” Kugo asked, something writhing and near-burning pressing to your core. “You just wanted to be fucked good and proper by daddy, but can’t even ask nicely?”

You shook your head, a moan ripping from the back of your throat as he pressed into you, cock twitching with each inch.

“Little one, look forward, and maybe, I’ll be merciful,” Kugo leaned his broad body over yours, the texture of his skin somewhere between silky and rubbery, but in no way unpleasant.

He didn’t give you any reprieve as he sheathed himself fully in your cunt. If you weren’t so accustomed to his size, shape, and motion, you would’ve probably been in pain.

But, after so long of taking his pretty, tapered cock so deep that you could feel it in your stomach?

You hardly felt the stretch.

As he bottomed out, the overwhelming fullness of it had you so close already, vision sparking at the corners. You struggled to keep your focus forward, on the reflection of you and Kugo panting in time, sheened in sweat.

He grinned, toothy and wide, and was about to speak when a knock sounded from the door.

You stiffened.

Kugo did as well, but it didn’t stop him from fucking you in soft earnest.

He was hardly thrusting, just lazily rocking and grinding in your cunt as he watched your wild eyes in the mirror.

He raised what would’ve been an eyebrow as another knock came, the door handle jingle for a minute.

“OCCUPIED!” You shouted at the last second, voice cracking with the suppression of a moan.

For the stoicism Kugo could radiate, he was wearing a shit-eating grin as he watched you struggle.

Flattening his chest over the arch of your back, he slowly fucked into you, rhythm lazy and unhurried, “Do you think they heard?”

“P-probably.”

“Just ‘probably’? You know better.”

The only response you gave was a muffled moan as you covered your own mouth, his cock rubbing hard and deep inside you. The overwhelming sensation was almost enough to make your eyes snap shut, but you forced them to stay open.

You wanted to offer a bit more sass, put up a bit more of a fight, but the image of Kugo fucking into you more relentlessly with each passing moment in the fogging mirror was far too enticing. You braced where you could, the pads of your fingers leaving oily prints on the immaculate mirror.

“Is this what you wanted, little one?” Kugo gritted out with a particularly rough thrust.

You nodded, sputtering out affirmatives as your head spun.

The pressure and tension writhing in your gut were pushing you closer to the edge, a fact that you desperately tried to hide on the off-chance Kugo decided to not allow you to come.

“You wanted to fucked just right, so close to my colleagues?” Kugo sneered, the hooks of his fingers clawing into your hips. “Filthy.”

You shuddered, grinding into the lip of the sink, frantically racing for your release.

Kugo must’ve been getting close as well, grunts echoing off the tile and walls, mixing with your own and the squelching of your cunt. Your thighs were soaked with slick, only made stickier by Kugo’s own gummy preek mixing with your own.

He leaned over your back, pressing his face into your shoulder, fin pressing against the mirror. His teeth dug into your shoulder as his angle somehow managed to get deeper.

“Kugo!” You wailed, voice cracking as his cock twirled inside you, swelling and filling you even better.

A hand snuck around your body, hand flat on your stomach, hauling you up and into him. You keened, craning your neck to continue watching the display, though your vision blurred with hot tears.

The pad of a finger circled your clit, the thickness of his arm held you up. His cock buried so fucking deep inside you had your eyes rolling back.

Kugo grabbed your jaw, forcing his gaze to him.

“Scream my name, and maybe I’ll let you finish, little one.”

You took a few shaking breaths, gaze flickering to the door.

Kugo’s hips slowed as well.

Though, only for his hips slam forward, his cock ramming against your cervix and the sensations to continue perfectly harder and faster—

“Kugo!” You shrieked straining as your peak sparked through your body, heat rolling over you.

Kugo came just moments later, the fluttering of your cunt more than enough to send him over the edge, his cock writhing and squirming as he pumped you full of his sticky cum.

There was stillness for a moment, as you both panted through the aftershocks. Your eyes went half-lidded, nearly limp in Kugo’s arms.

“Little one,” Kugo’s voice was hoarse and dry. He turned on the sink, rushing cold water splashing into the basin. “How do you feel?”

You slurred out an answer, turning and leaning into his broad frame. Kugo was quick to steady you, propping you up against the sink.

He splashed a bit of the water over his face and neck, the smoothness of his skin shining once more. Carefully, he placed his cold hand over your forehead, kissing your cheeks as you both settled.

You could feel his cock still, softened but still shrinking down now that he’d blown his load. His cum dripped down your thighs, cooling and making you shiver in the chill of the bathroom.

“Sorry I teased you,” You sighed wistfully hooking your arms over his shoulders. “But it was worth it.”

Kugo blinked at you, “You really think so?”

“Entirely. That was lovely— “

Kugo hummed, stooping down to fish his jacket off the ground, along with the remnants of your skirt.

The skirt was almost in tatters, barely able to clasp around your waist with the way the fabric hung. Your panties, shirt, and bra were gone, the scraps making far better cumrags than clothing.

You swallowed, staring up at Kugo with wide eyes as he tsked.

“Consequences, love.”

He gave you a toothy grin as you pouted.

“I’m not going back out there half-naked— “

He pulled you forward as you spoke, helping your arms through the massive sleeves, buttoning up the front.

The colors were mismatched, the fit off, makeup smeared, and in general, you looked like a goddamn mess. If his colleagues somehow didn’t hear you, they were bound to notice based on how disheveled you looked.

“You wanted cock so badly, this is the price,” Kugo pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Come on, I’ll help you out, I’m sure you’ve gotten quite the limp.”

As heat rose to your cheeks, you couldn’t feel too embarrassed.

You had gotten what you wanted.

[earliebirb]

From the prompt list: 5) “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?” For stevetony w/jealous steve, please, if you feel up for it? ☺️

Hi there, thank you for the prompt and sorry for the long wait!

This is 2k of no powers/bodyguard au that can be read as a standalone fic or a prequel to this fic of mine, as the two fics are set in the same universe. I feel obligated to warn you that although this one is fluffy, the linked fic contains angst with an unhappy ending (which I may or may not end up fixing with a happy ending eventually). I didn’t even plan to add another fic in the same universe, and yet here we are. I just love the concept of young heir!tony and bodyguard!steve too much, I guess. 

Enjoy! :)

TL;DR: click here for part 2 of this no powers/bodyguard au (warning: linked fic contains unhappy ending.)

a fool for you

steve/tony, fluff, au: no powers, bodyguard!steve, young!tony, 2204 words

(5 from this list)

“It’s so hot out here,” Tony groans, using the collar of his shirt to fan himself.

“Well, would you rather be in there with them?” Pepper nods at the general direction of the mansion, where he knows his and Pepper’s parents are still sitting together in the dining room. 

Tony makes a face. “No.”

He wants to be as far away from them as possible. 

The two of them escaped to the garden just before dessert. This has become a routine of some sort, something they always do during the monthly lunches their parents insist on having ever since they arranged their marriage contract. Tony knows the only reason they are allowed to get away with it is because their parents think that it’s good for Tony and Pepper to spend some time alone, to get to know each other before their marriage. 

An arranged marriage. Seriously, Tony’s life is one huge cosmic joke.  

Don’t get him wrong; Tony adores Pepper. She is one of his best friends and they have practically known each other since they were in diapers, but they definitely don’t see each other that way. Pepper has little to no interest in dating, and Tony is—

Well, Tony’s heart has been very much occupied by someone else for quite some time now.

“Anyway, back to the matter at hand. I’m telling you, Pep, it’s so hard to figure him out. I just never know what he’s thinking.” Tony leans back in his seat with a sigh, the rigid wood of the bench digging into his spine. 

“He is so gone on you, it’s ridiculous.” Pepper fans herself with a folding fan. As usual, Pepper looks well put together despite the weather, dressed in a white eyelet dress that looks lovely on her and her hair up in a neat ponytail. 

“But how can you tell?”

“I just can. Trust me. Have I ever let you down?”

“Well, no, but…” Tony trails off, looking into the distance. His eyes land on Steve, who is stationed far away from the bench Tony and Pepper are sitting on, with rows and rows of the red and yellow tulips of the Potts family estate’s garden separating the distance between them.

His blond hair gleams golden under the scorching heat of the sun. The man is standing straight, hands clasped in front of him. Tony wonders if Steve has always had perfect posture or if it is something he cultivated in his training as a bodyguard. Steve must also be suffering under the heat, dressed in the mandatory dress code for bodyguards of the Stark family—a black and white suit that fits him like a dream. Tony is sitting on a bench under the shade of an umbrella, and even his shirt is already sticking unpleasantly to the skin of his back, damp with sweat. 

“Just look at him. He’s always so proper and polite,” Tony grumbles.

“Well, can you blame him? It is his job.” 

Tony pouts at that, even as he knows that Pepper is right, like she always is. It’s just that he knows how improper and impolite Steve can be. Steve is hilarious when he wants to be; he has demonstrated his dry humor multiple times in front of Tony. Granted, it is usually only on display when he is in the company of Tony and the other guys in the security detail with no one else around or when he and Tony are alone. The thought of those moments brings a smile to Tony’s lips. Those secret moments are when Steve allows himself to relax, his real personality bleeding into his job persona. 

He turns to watch Steve again. Steve is looking down at the ground, a hand pressed to the earpiece Tony knows he wears in his left ear. Tony watches as Steve nods almost imperceptibly before raising his wrist to his lips, speaking to the microphone resting inside his sleeve. When he finishes, he lowers his wrist back to his side. He looks up and meets Tony’s eyes by accident. 

Tony stills and stops breathing.

Steve holds his gaze for a few moments before looking away almost immediately, reverting back to his previous posture.

Tony slumps in his seat, dejected. Pepper slaps his back with her folded fan and Tony yelps, straightening his back immediately. 

“Don’t slouch. What time is the party again?”

“Seven, but you know me. I like to be fashionably late. Besides, no one can say anything about me being late tonight because I am the birthday boy. The party only starts when I arrive. Then again, that is also true for any other party.” Tony winks. “What did you get me?”

Pepper shrugs, not giving him an answer.

Tony narrows his eyes before gasping dramatically, a hand on his chest. “Pepper Pot, did you even get me anything?” 

Pepper rolls her eyes.

“Why?” Pepper deadpans. “Is it your birthday?”

***

“I’ve called Happy. Car will be here in fifteen,” Bucky says as he arrives at Steve’s side. Steve nods. 

Anthony Stark and Virginia Potts are casually chatting on a bench in the distance, looking like two completely normal 24-year-olds instead of the heirs to two of the most powerful companies in the world, Stark Industries and Potts Enterprises. With the way Stark behaves sometimes, Bucky tends to forget that the man has a net worth of a couple billion dollars. 

Catching sight of the man behind them, Bucky snickers. Sam looks calm and collected as he stands behind the bench to hold an umbrella over Stark and Potts’ heads, but Bucky knows that he is going to complain about his sore arm to Bucky later. 

“Look at Wilson. Poor bastard. He hates umbrella duty.” Bucky’s smirk widens an inch when he catches Sam’s gaze, the latter widening his eyes dramatically. “Also, what’s with the sudden switch? I know it’s your turn for umbrella duty today and you never give up umbrella duty ‘cause it gives you a chance to ogle at Stark’s ass.”

Bucky turns to face Steve when his friend and commander-in-chief says nothing in reply. Steve always reprimands him whenever Bucky teases him about his gigantic crush on Tony Stark, something about “protocol” and Bucky being “inappropriate”. 

Steve is staring at Stark and Potts with unbridled focus. To the untrained eye, it may look like Steve is just doing his job of guarding his client but Steve’s eyebrows are furrowed and his jaw is doing The Clench and—

“Wait a minute, are you jealous?” Bucky gasps, part scandalized, part incredulous. “Is that why you asked Wilson to switch with you?”

Steve’s head snaps upright and he turns to Bucky with wide eyes.

“No,” he says, sounding equally as scandalized, but the way his eyes slide away as soon as they meet Bucky’s is telling. Ever since he was little, Steve has always been a terrible liar.

“Stevie.” Bucky gawks at him, shaking his head in disbelief. “I’ve never seen you moon over someone like this before. You weren’t even this bad with Peggy Carter back in high school.”

“I’m not mooning over anyone,” Steve says through gritted teeth. “Fix your posture.” 

Bucky snorts, but clasps his hands in front of him obediently. 

“I keep telling you, you should tell him how you feel.”

“Stop talking nonsense. It’s against protocol,” Steve says, eyes once again staring longingly at Stark, who is listening attentively to whatever Potts is saying.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “As if Stark ever cared about that.”

Just when Bucky thinks that the conversation is dead, just like the million other times Steve has shut Bucky down whenever he attempts to talk some sense into his best friend, Steve says in a quiet voice:

“Besides… they’re engaged.”

Bucky sighs in exasperation, refusing the increasingly strong urge to bash his own head against the nearest tree. They have gone over this exact problem countless of times. 

He loves Steve like a brother, but never let it be said that the man is not stubborn. 

Bucky opens his mouth to protest some more, but then Happy announces that he is entering the estate’s premises and Steve begins barking orders into his microphone to prepare the team for mobilization. 

***

Tony loosens the tie around his neck as he steps into his bedroom, sighing in relief. If it were up to him he would have left the party hours ago, but alas, being the birthday boy comes with its own responsibilities. The older he gets, the more his birthday feels less like a day to celebrate his birth and more like a day to mingle with his father’s business associates. The fact that his glad-handing skills have practically been hardwired into him by now is his only saving grace. Well, that and…

Turning around, he finds Steve standing at the doorway of his bedroom. Tony waits for the obligatory ‘Would that be all, Mr. Stark?’ and is surprised when it doesn’t come immediately. Having Steve by his side throughout the entire night was Tony’s favorite part about his birthday bash. Tony absolutely lives for the minute twitches of Steve’s lips whenever Tony whispers witty quips and insults about various high-profile people mingling around him at every public event, and tonight was no exception. 

As much as Tony enjoys Steve’s company, however, he is also well aware that Steve must be exhausted. After all, as tiring as the event was for Tony, it was still his birthday party. Steve, on the other hand, was dutifully doing his job of shadowing Tony and looking out for potential threats.

Tony is about to dismiss him for the night when he is suddenly struck with the realization that Steve is... hovering. 

“Steve?”

“Sir,” Steve says in reply, back straightening immediately. His eyes are wide and he opens his mouth once before closing it again without saying a word. He looks like he has something to say and is struggling to work out a way to say it.

“Tony,” Tony corrects automatically as there is no one else in the room but them, but otherwise he says nothing, waiting patiently for Steve to gather his thoughts. 

“Tony, I…” Steve trails off. Tony watches in amazement as Steve’s fists clench and unclench at his side, a rare sight for a person who is usually so graceful and poised. He lurches forward, walking towards Tony before stopping in front of him. 

With his eyes trained on the floor, Steve fishes out a slim black box from his breast pocket and holds it out to Tony.

Tony’s breath catches in his throat. “Is this…?”

Steve looks up and finally meets his eyes, jaw clenched in determination. 

“Happy birthday, Tony.”

Tony reaches out to take the box, his fingers brushing Steve’s.

“Can I open it?” 

Steve nods with a swallow. Gazing down at the box, Tony opens it carefully and takes a deep breath the second he sees what is lying inside—a beautiful red tie, made of some soft fabric that seems to gleam under the moonlight streaming in through the windows of Tony’s bedroom. He unfolds it to admire the tie in its entirety. 

Something flutters in his stomach when he sees the gold monogram sewn into the tip of the necktie. Tony traces the initials ‘A. E. S.’ reverently with his index finger. 

“Steve.”

“Do you… like it?” Steve asks, watching Tony with trepidation. 

Tony beams at him. “I love it. Thank you.”

A reluctant smile appears on Steve’s face, even as the man scratches the back of his neck with an air of bashfulness. 

“I know it’s not much and I know you’ve already received lots of gifts. Better and more expensive ones. It certainly is no golden cufflinks, but I—”

That gets Tony’s attention.

“Golden cufflinks?”

“Uh, I mean— I might have seen, um, the golden cufflinks Ms. Potts got you, and I know—”

Tony barks out a surprised laugh, realization dawning.

Confusion takes over Steve’s face, his eyebrows furrowing adorably.

“Why are you laughing?”

Tony takes a step closer to Steve, grabbing the knot of Steve’s tie and pulling Steve down to his height. 

Steve’s blue eyes are staring back at him, pupils blown wide with shock. Tony gazes at him intently, lips tugged upwards in a helpless smile as his heart swells with affection.

“You’re so cute when you’re jealous, you know that?” Tony says, standing on tiptoe to plant a soft kiss on Steve’s forehead. He releases Steve afterwards, stepping backwards. 

Steve proceeds to stare at him like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car, mouth ajar and breath coming out in ragged pants. A delightful blush blooms on his cheeks. 

Tony bites his lower lip to stop himself from laughing. Then he raises his eyebrows, saying:

“Well, you’re dismissed. Thank you for the birthday gift.”

Tony watches in amusement as Steve flounders to regain his composure. Eventually, he gives Tony a curt nod before leaving without a word, blush still high on his cheeks. 

The moment the door closes behind Steve, Tony throws himself onto his bed and lets out a stupidly hysterical giggle into his pillow, feeling giddy with joy. 

He makes a mental note to send Pepper some flowers in the morning. 

[barnzbucky]

reach for the moon - chapter 1 (Ivar x Reader)

Pairing: Ivar x reader; Hvitserk x reader (but barely)

Summary: 5 years have passed. Hvitserk finds out something Ivar did behind his back. The reader returns to Kattegat, and meets the man she longed to see the most.

Warnings: ableist talk (if feels unlike Ivar to not mention his condition when he gives his self loathing speeches, but it’s strange to write it); mention of arranged marriage; mentions of war; mentions of unrequited love; canon divergence; oc characters; fictional city; uncanon light hearted characters; cuteness at the end, but it made me feel guilty;  (please, let me know if I missed something)

Word count: 2k

A/N: Hi!! Thank you so much for all the feedback in the prologue, I was beyond happy. My classes have just returned, and I also work, so I only have time to write and edit during the night, and I was supposed to edit this chapter yesterday, but I stayed up the whole night binge watching The Circle, and got nothing done 😂 Well, I hope you like the first chapter, I’m pretty proud of it 😂 please, tell me what you think and I hope you enjoy this ❤️️❤️️

masterlist | series masterlist

As the last citizen walked into the throne room, Ivar almost sighed in relief. He was most serious about his position as king, but he truly felt like everyone was working hard to make his job unbearable. He used to be known as the least patient man in Kattegat, and now, no one minded bothering him with meaningless cases. Sat in a throne, from morning to evening, listening to people talk his ear off about stupid ordeals, like neighbors stealing sheeps, or loud noises animals made during night, was not what he had in mind when he took over the city.

Battle plans and strategies were the only thing he was interested in, trade and economic deals weren’t too inconvenient, but having to deal with his subject’s complaints, no matter how insignificant, made him wonder if it was worth it.

However, Ivar knew he had to work harder than any man to earn the respect and admiration he longed for, and for a while he thought war was the only way, but life and the Gods were quick to teach him pointless conflict, in the longer run, brought only pain and loneliness, and fear was quite different from respect.

So he settled for making Kattegat the most prosperous city in Norway, a trade reference, with advantageous alliances, and satisfied citizens who had nothing to complain about. But they had become too spoiled, and complained about everything to their heart’s content.

Still, as bored as he was, Ivar could finally say he proved everyone who doubted him wrong, and he imagined his parents would be proud of him.

When the man finally left, he wasted no time, but before he could get out of the throne to eat his dinner in peace, Hvitserk stormed in looking almost angry, with Ubbe after him, unbothered.

“Would you care to explain what is this marriage nonsense?” his brother asked, almost laughing, as if it was a joke he didn’t quite understand.

Ivar merely raised his eyebrows and looked away from him to Ubbe, “I take it you told him, then?”

Ubbe told Ivar it was a bad idea to make the deal without telling Hvitserk. If he refused, the king would be angry and they would go to war. But his younger brother was so sure nothing was going to go wrong, and refused to listen to him. Now, a confrontation he didn’t want to be a part of was happening right in front of him.

“I’ll let you talk, I have nothing to do with this,” Ubbe didn’t hesitate to leave before he was forced to take a side. None of the other men bothered with him.

“I am not going to marry Tove just because you want more warriors at your disposal.” Hvitserk looked frustrated. He knew this would happen eventually, but not that soon, and certainly not without being consulted first.

“The alliance also includes fur and food,” Ivar had a mocking smirk on his face. It was funny to him, and almost insulting, that his brother thought he would force him to marry for something as meaningless as men and gold. “And I thought you liked her, Hvitserk! Surely, she is a beautiful woman, and a princess. I imagine you know her very well, what is so bad about this?”

“I like many women, brother, and I don’t need a wife!” he crossed his arms and lifted his chin, defensive and defiant at the same time.

Ivar’s hands tightly griped the arms of the throne, and he took a deep breath, trying not to get mad. His brother had chosen the worst day to do this. He was tired, hungry, cold, and in pain, and all  that just made him angrier, “Good alliances are not made out only of a man’s word, Hvitserk, don’t be stupid. King Fredrick wanted his daughter to marry, and I offered him that. We all need to make sacrifices for Kattegat.”

“Why don’t you marry her, then?” the question made Ivar’s smirk return and he chuckled.

“A wife is of no use to me, yet. I have too much work to do. Any woman would be miserable to be left aside by her crippled husband in benefit of battle councils, and meetings,” he explained, still amused by his brother’s question, “All you need to do, brother, is to humor the king until the marriage is complete. After that, I’m sure you and your wife will come to an agreement.”

Hvitserk shook his head and sighed. He knew he wouldn’t be able to change Ivar’s mind, and now the arrangement was made, it was too risky to break it. He supposed Tove wouldn’t be the worst bride, and doubted she would ask him to be faithful to her if she wouldn’t be the same. He knew her well enough to say she probably wouldn’t, “I’ll think about it.”

Both knew he wouldn’t think about it. It was already decided. But Ivar could let his brother win the argument if that meant he would follow through with the wedding. So he just nodded.

After Hvitserk left, finally he had time to rest.

It took you two entire days to arrive in Kattegat.

The heavy set of fur was only vaguely familiar, heavy over your shoulders. You almost wanted to take it off. Maybe the unmistakable cold of your hometown would make reality sink in faster.

If you squinted your eyes, you could see it. The enormous coast, filled with more ships than you could count, the white, icy fog over the docks, and people coming and going at the beach. Soon you would be there, and your heart ached in your chest when you remembered how things used to be five years ago.

You laughed, remembering you didn’t want to go to Gleðiborg in the first place. If you only knew then, how wonderful and warm and comforting that town was.

Gleðiborg provided you the best years of your life. It taught you to actively live and make the best of your time in Midgard, instead of watching it all go by from afar.

You felt beautiful, confident, and happy. So unlike the person you were before, lonely and invisible.

You blinked to get your mind to calm, and focused again in the city ahead of you. Before you got into the ship, you promised yourself not to let your bad thoughts and memories control you. And you never broke a promise, even if self-made.

No matter how much you changed, your biggest wound was not yet healed. Prince Hvitserk still held your heart.

But regardless of how nervous you felt, you were as ready as you would ever be to face your past.

You thought about your last night in Kattegat, so long ago, but still so clear on your mind.

The usual heartache of seeing Hvitserk holding and kissing another woman felt worse, you never wished so bad to be in his arms as in that last time you saw him. That night, he only gave you one of his friendly smiles and politely asked you how you were. You could almost hear him saying your name.

Then, prince Ivar trusted you to his feelings and showed raw vulnerability… everything that proved he was more man than beast, you secretly promised to keep to yourself. It made you feel special and comforted that night, to be useful and needed, even knowing it only happened because you were the only one there. You were sure he didn’t even know of your existence before.

You hoped he was better. You supposed so, he was the king now. You were happy he had made it through his insecurities and finally got what he wanted.

Sooner than you thought, your ship arrived at the docks. You took a deep breath before daring to look at the city streets.

When you only had warm and sunny Gleðiborg to compare to, it was dark and cold. The sun was hidden behind the clouds and the wind hurt your skin and made your eyes burn. The smell of fish was so strong you were almost certain it was impregnating your clothes, and your head ached from the loud noise of people talking and shouting.

It wasn’t the best.

But you remembered how Kattegat looked like when you left. And this was completely different from your memory.

Back then, because of the upcoming war, everyone was rigid, tense, and more violent than usual. The city could barely hold that many people, and the food was too expensive for the poorer citizens eat more than a small meal a day, at best. Now, it seemed to be doing much better.

The market was full of people, children, the older folk, artisans, non-warriors, all vulnerable and glad, like it wasn’t before. This was far from how you imagined a place ruled by a man they called a “ruthless monster”.

When your parents visited Gleðiborg, they told you about an unforgivable king when it came to criminals and traitors, intolerant of the people’s silliness and drama, who never engaged in commoner’s celebrations like his brothers, only the ones held in the Great Hall, and was extremely impatient over everything else. But who still prioritized food and warmth over war and luxury for himself and took the time to find and make it better the problems of his kingdom.

Snapping from your thoughts, you stepped out of the ship and searched for your father in the crowd. You expected him to be there, it had been a while they announced there were people coming.

You hoped you wouldn’t have to wait for too long.

Unknown to you, you had drawn attention, standing there in perfect posture, right beside your bag. The furs around your body didn’t hide the vibrant yellow of your dress, a refreshing contrast before the gray sea.

While distracted searching for your father, someone lifted your baggage from the floor.

You turned back to see who it was and your heart almost failed you. Of course, the first person to greet you was the one you were most nervous to meet again.

Hvitserk had in his face a specific smile you had seen many times before, but never directed at you.

You almost gasped. He looked as attractive as you remembered, with the years difference, and all.

“May I help you? These seem too heavy,” his voice was comforting, and the flirty tone had you melting.

You opened a wide smile and fixed your posture, finding your new confidence self again, and didn’t bother hiding your excitement, “Hi, how are you?”

“I’m fine, how are you?” He crooked his head, as if he was confused, but the smile didn’t falter, “Who are you?”

“Who am I?” you chuckled, clearly amused. You knew you looked different, but not to the point he wouldn’t even remember who you were.

“Am I supposed to know?” he still looked confused, but had the same flirty tone and big smile.

Thinking about how no one, not even you, would have expected you to look as confident and liberated as you did now, it was shocking. You didn’t even feel like the same person, and until now, you haven’t realized it.

You couldn’t blame him for not recognizing you. You used to be friendly with each other, but being unable to look into his eyes whenever you talked, and standing in the light corners of every outing made you invisible.

“No, I supposed not,” you shook your head and laughed some more, “And yes, you may help me! Would you be so kind to walk me home?”

He held a hand out, the other holding your belongings. You stared at it. “Well, let’s go. Show me the way.”

You took his hand and started to walk to your home holding him behind you, occasionally glancing at him over your shoulder and giggling, until he had enough and decided to walk by your side. His cheeky smile made it almost impossible not to sigh.

“What is your name?”

tags: @luvjiminssi​ ; @ryukjin​ ; @hecohansen31​ ; @heavenly1927​ ; @youbloodymadgenius​ ; @ace-fiction​​ ; @poisonous00​ ; @jzr201​ ; @rose1729 ; @shestrying2write​ ; @zuxiezendler​ ; @learninglemni-blog ; @didiintheblog​ ; @the-jess-life​  (if you’d like to be tagged or to be removed from the tag list, just send me a message/ask, no problem ☺️ if I wasn’t able to tag, please check if your blog is available to show on search) 

[flyswhumpcenter]

Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you send me requests according to this marvelous card! (Red cross is the completed prompt, character headshots are prompts I’ve already filled. Green deltas are for requested prompts.)

It's fine if I'm used to it.

Confession: I love Ichihoshi. I'm the first to point out flaws in Inazuma and, well, Orion is clearly not exempt from that. I know Ichihoshi's redemption arc isn't the best, that it has wasted potential (especially with Mitsuru being heckin' ded), I know. And even then? I'd protecc Hikaru. He falls into almost all of my favorite character credentials: hardworking, good-meaning, pretty intelligent, cool motif, (most likely has whump stuff attached to them in canon...). Oops. About this oneshot, it's abstract on purpose because, well, you've most likely read the tags. It's almost a cryptic character study because, man, I want to write more about this stardust boy. Most likely won't be this abstract next time. It's also much softer than the previous one because I felt softer and sweeter this time, enjoy the calm before the storm, before the storm before the calm. I've taken a lot of liberties with the actual nightmares Ichihoshi is shown to have in the anime, but hey, fanfiction is also for that, right?

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Wishing Upon a Shooting Star in the Twilight Sky

Summary: Hikaru, the eyes who slither in the dark, and an ever-changing corridor. Nothing out of the ordinary. (or: yet another feverish nightmare in the mind of a boy who used not to have people to rely on)

Fandom: Inazuma Eleven: Orion no Kokuin (spoilers for up to episodes 13-16) Relationship: Ichihoshi & Inazuma Japan

Wordcount: 2K words

Event hosted by @badthingshappenbingo

AO3 version available here.

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A pair of eyes welcomes him as soon as his lids open, shining in the dark, viciously staring at him wit the intensity of a thousand stares. He remembers the story of the poisons of poisons and wonders if those aren’t the eyes of the eyes, those who can see through walls and peek behind the curtains of the mind, those who ignore the skull entirely.

He’s too used to them to be scared of them anymore, so he gets up and running for the day, dressing up as the red irises still dissect his anatomy from where they stand, shrouded in the darkness of the corners of the bedroom.

 It always feels cold, his skin shivering, hair dressed on his arms and legs before he puts on a jacket and decide to ignore the chills. The eyes don’t leave their prey, the shine of a fang piercing through the shadows like a claw tearing through a curtain, but that’s to be expected. There’s still a hinge of fear in the back of his mind, the non-null risk that he could get eaten alive, but he shouldn’t let that phase him. He’s not a prey worth the effort anyway.

He exits the unfamiliar room, ready for the day, leaving the creature in the shadows as the day finally shines upon this country again, sunlight bathing the corridors through the windows. It’s soothing, somewhat.

 The faces around him ignore his presence entirely. Far away, his brother, his beloved older brother, glaring at him, surrounded by people whose language he suddenly doesn’t understand anymore, whose alphabet reads like drawings on old stone walls. He’s lost and getting scared, the place changing constantly, and he’ll never get used to how the colours and noises keep transforming each time he tries to focus on one sound or object.

His forehead hurts from how many things his brain analyses at once, trying to give sense to the nonsensical maze of sensations swirling around him. He feels smothered, wrapped by a snake that doesn’t exist, head like a nebula who cannot settle for one star and instead decides to confuse him even further. He’s in the eye of a tornado, watching its curves surrounding him with nothing but confusion and a headache.

 He manages to peek through the wind curtains, handing his hand outside as to try and catch his brother’s attention, yelling but never hearing his own voice doing so. His brother’s name is missing from his boggled memories, those trying to claw at his wounded throat during this moment of vulnerability, so he calls out in vague manners, words running away from his mind. And yet, despite the dread, despite the panic and despite the horror, it feels like a déjà vu.

He’s been here before, he realizes, as he notices the patterns the walls’ changing forms adopt. They switch in cycles, colours succeeding each other in disharmony, unsynchronized among themselves to create a nauseating vertigo, whose dazzling lights blinded his eyes used to the darkness, rendering him dizzy. And, even then, he can still notice the cycles and how they function, using what’s left available of his brain to clear his way out of the mess.

 His brother glares at him from the outside, defying him with a smirk to get out of the tornado. Closing his eyes as not to enforce his migraine, he steps blindly forward, hands trembling and eager to find a wall to find some new failsafe support. His fingertips don’t quite touch anything of note, brushing against the temperature-shifting air he breathes. He continues on anyway, now aware this is a place he knows, a corridor that makes sense if he stops seeing it.

He needs to exit this place, this is all that comes to his mind. The creature will soon get used to the dizzying sparks of the outside. The storm will let down only once he’ll have found a room of calm and serenity. He’s used to it, he knows where he should be heading: the dark blue door, the one decorated with starry-like white dots that reminds him of the night sky. He remembers it so clearly.

 He trips on a misplaced carpet and scratches both knees and palms in his attempt at stopping his falls. It stings, but he’s used to such small pains, and he continues walking as the wooden floor under his feet starts catching on fire behind his back. It smells like ash and smoke, going into his nose and down his trachea, making him cough as he tries to still breathe. His sense of smell is neutralized, with his earing and touch all he has left to guide himself. It’s fine, he’ll manage: sensory deprivation isn’t an unfamiliar feeling.

Around him resonate double, echoing laughter. He doesn’t recognize the voices enough to tell who they belong to, yet they’re familiar: they sound like former friends who turned his back on him once upon a time, people he’s wanted to forget the faces and names of, who’ve only stared at him with vengeful eyes since then. Some sound more common than the rest, others are more recent and he can swear he hears accents in some of the whispers thrown his ways. It’s fine, he’ll manage: being told he’s useless and getting threatened for being ineffective isn’t an unfamiliar feeling.

 He falls again, but this time, his eyes open. Before him is the bloodied hand of his brother and blue irises staring right into his, daggers planting themselves in his flesh as wooden shards search for a way to pierce through his legs’ skin. It hurts, he thinks he may have sprained his wrists and ankles in his fall. The hand is unwelcoming, the smoke invades his vision, makes his eyes tear up and blurry, water running down his cheeks. He still takes the offer nonetheless and tries rising to his feet, only to fall back down as he gets thrown backwards.

His brother sneers, words unintelligible, but hurtful anyway; and, in a moment of solace, he witnesses his own past self get engulfed by the snake who slithers in the dark of his bedroom, until the fangs throw themselves at him and he stops feeling anything.

 It’s fine because he’s used to the acid inside this deadly jaw, it’s fine because he’ll wake up in a sweat, just like he does every time. It’s a loop he’s not found the hole to yet, but this time, he finds back the hope spot before he can—

 Not unlike every other night before, Hikaru wakes up in a bolt, drenched in sweat, light hurting his eyes from how suddenly they’ve snapped open. His vision is blurry at first, but then clarifies, and he notices something strange right from the get-go: he isn’t alone.

Hanging right over his is the face of Endou, looking right at him. By sweeping across the room with his glance, he recognizes other faces: Nosaka, Hiura, Mikado, Asuto, Nishikage in the distance. It’s not his bedroom either: it looks like they’re near the pitch instead, if he can trust his sole vision of the ceiling and vague patch of green on his left.

 “Ichihoshi, can you hear me?” Endou asks, looking somewhat concerned.  

He tries smiling as an answer (that’s kind of a weird reflex to have), but chooses to also add a weak “yes” to his reply.

“Thank goodness!” Asuto sounds relieved. “We were so scared when you just collapsed like that!”

Ah, he’s forgotten to wonder how he even ended in this situation. On the other hand, is there really a point in asking himself questions he can’t find a reply to? His head is a mess.

 He feels something cold and wet being put on his forehead. He tries to put a hand on it to identify that, but his wrist won’t move, and he wonders if he’s not sprained it. Of course, it’s not possible: that was in his dream. He’s wide awake now, as he can tell from the lack of eyes trying to peek into his mind’s stained secrets.

“Take some rest,” Endou continues speaking, this expression not leaving his face.

“W-wait… What happened…?” He manages to ask.

 Endou’s face gets pushed aside by Nosaka’s, whose eyebrows are frowning and usual smirk has made a hundred-eighty. He looks less than pleased.

“Like Asuto just said, you suddenly collapsed during our usual training regimen. Technically, you merely fell asleep, so we were relieved until you started thrashing in your sleep.”

“Ah, yeah,” Asuto chimes in, “that was scary! Are you sure you’re okay?”

Good question.

“I guess…?”

“I wouldn’t say so,” Nosaka comments, arms crossed.

“You have a fever,” Mikado ends the sentence.

That makes sense, he supposes… It’s just weird that he has no recollection of ever getting this fever in the first place, even if it doesn’t sound too out-of-place for a thing like this to cause his memory to

“I’ll fetch Sekiya,” she adds before leaving.

 Despite the tension and the concern, these stares are comfortable, and he surprises himself to catch his eyelids closing on their own again. While this isn’t foreign, it’s been years since he’s felt this way. Strange and yet soothing, his brain doesn’t know what to make of it.

“You’re sure you’re fine?” Asuto asks, insistent. “You really looked in pain when you were asleep!”

Hikaru sits up, now that his body finally responds, making sure the cloth doesn’t fall off from his forehead. He still feels hands in his back, most likely Endou’s.

“It’s fine… I’m used to it.”

“Used to it?!”

 Both Asuto and Endou look horrified. Well, he should have seen it coming that others wouldn’t find it that usual, but it’s not worth this sudden appal.

“That makes it even less okay!” The former yells, drilling a hole through his already thumbing skull.

“I agree with Asuto,” Endou adds. “You should have talked to us about these. These absolutely can’t be good!”

“I know, but really, I’ll be fine…” He doesn’t like all the fuss, especially when he considers what he’s once done to them. “They’ve gotten better with time too.”

“For how long have they lasted?” Nosaka then asks again, not letting himself display the same kind of horror as their other teammates.

“I don’t really remember… I think they started when I joined Orion, but I forgot when exactly. They come in and out…”

 Everyone still looks appalled.

“What are those about?” Endou eventually speaks out.

“I don’t really know… They’re about my times at Orion, I’m sure of that, but they’re usually so abstract that it’s hard to tell. I think that’s why there’s always eyes glaring at me whenever I have those nightmares…”

He giggles at himself, “today was just worse than usual. It’s calmed down considerably since joining the team and… that’s why I’m convinced they’ll go away, eventually.”

“You’re still overexerted,” Nosaka comments, not without reason. “Even if we’re fighting Orion, you shouldn’t do that again. Having you collapse during a match would be a disaster.”

“I’m with Nosaka,” Endou adds. “You need rest, or else you won’t be able to do anything on the field!”

“B-but… If I’m not playing, are you going to…” Abandon him? No, he can’t say that out loud, not after what he’s done… Instead, he goes silent. He just can’t say that.

“Don’t worry for us, we have your back!” Asuto sounds as confident and happy as ever, even if he can tell his teammate is worried.

He laughs again, softly, to himself. “Thank you…”

 To his numbed surprise, Hikaru falls back asleep almost immediately, energy dragged down the well of the thoughts and wrapped in warmth again. Passing out like this in full daylight is but a weird experience he isn’t used to, but that’s fine: change needs to happen and, for once, he isn’t scared about losing something if he goes unconscious for a couple hours.

May the nightmares stop, now that he feels safe and sound.

[agapostemon]

[Positivity Day] Gen Fic Recs

In honor of Voltron Positivity Day, I’m sharing some of my all-time favorite Voltron fics with you! This batch is all platonic. If you’re looking for something shippy, I have a list of shippy fic recs right here.

Note: Please read the tags and descriptions before reading any of these. Some of them contain important trigger warnings.

[Series] Like Those Before: A Star Wars/Voltron AU by buttered_onions (@butteredonions) (T, 38k+)

Character/Relationship Focus: Everybody (especially Lance, Keith and Shiro)

Summary:

The one thing Lance has wanted his entire life is to be a Jedi.

Why You Should Read:

Even if you’re like me and have only a rudimentary understanding of Star Wars, I highly recommend this AU. The plot is perfectly paced, and the way Onions describes the Force is super creative and adds a lot of emotional depth to the stories. Plus, there’s so much delightfully snarky banter! It’s a really fun read.

If you’re a sucker for domestic fluff and Keith & Shiro interactions like I am, I especially recommend Foundation. But really just… read the whole series. You won’t regret it.

Hand-Me-Downs, Leftovers by yet_intrepid (@andriseup) (G, 1k)

Character/Relationship Focus: Shiro & Keith

Summary:

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better,” says Keith.

“I’m not lying,” Shiro says. He takes a bite of his pizza; Keith mirrors him with the burrito. “Every step is a good step.”

Why You Should Read:

I cannot find words to describe how much I love this little 1k fic about late-night junk food and brotherly bonding. It’s just so sweet and comforting and relatable. I go back and reread it when I’m having a rough time.

And You Find Some Way to Survive by yet_intrepid (@andriseup) (M, 8k)

Character/Relationship Focus: Shiro & Keith

Summary:

“Keith,” Shiro says. “Where are you?” He starts getting out of bed, pushing his feet into his shoes and grabbing a non-uniform jacket so he’s less likely to get caught sneaking out, which it looks like he’ll have to do. “Keith.”

“Town,” Keith says. “Fifth Street. Shiro, I…”

“I’m on my way,” Shiro tells him. “I’m coming to get you. Okay?”

“Okay,” says Keith, and his voice shakes.

Why You Should Read:

This is an absolute emotional rollercoaster and I love every last word of it. It’s a heartwrenching story with a bittersweet end, but there are some lighthearted moments as well (mostly in the form of Shiro and Matt banter). Sometimes when the going gets rough, the tough… crack jokes because what else can you do??? Which I love about all of Brooke’s writing, this fic included. Plus, I absolutely adore how they write the Holt family. Their characterization of Matt and Sam is basically canon as far as I’m concerned.

P.s.- This fic is even better if you read Conditional Acceptance first, so I highly recommend doing so.

A Little Unsteady (Hold Onto Me) by DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee (@deerstalkerdeathfrisbee) (G, 13k)

Character/Relationship Focus: Shiro & Keith

Summary:

Takashi Shirogane is nine years old when he holds his brother for the first time.

“I’m here,” he’d whispered to his fussing baby brother, “I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.”

And Keith stopped crying. He didn’t laugh; he looked up at Shiro with big, skeptical eyes. A challenge. Like this tiny person was saying ‘oh yeah, prove it’.

And Shiro, newly nine years old, promised that he’d prove it.

[Shiro and Keith's childhood in moments.]

Why You Should Read:

This is part of an ongoing Modern AU, the rest of which you can find on my shippy rec list. But even if you don’t read the rest of the series, this one is well worth a read. If you like Broganes fics and detailed, emotionally compromising backstories, this one’s for you. It’s sweet and heartwrenching and SO well thought-out!

Fair warning: you will probably cry every time you read the words “I’m here” forevermore ever reading this.

A (Space) Mother’s Work Is Never Done by BajillionKittens (@bajillionkittens) (G, 3k+)

Character/Relationship Focus: Coran & Everybody

Summary:

A Mother's Day celebration for the team mom. Six times Coran took care of his kids and one time they returned the favor.

Why You Should Read:

This is an absurdly cute and well-characterized look into Coran’s interactions with the paladins! It’ll give you all kinds of warm fuzzy feels. (This one isn’t technically complete, but each chapter stands just fine alone.)

Comfort by temporalgambit (@heyyamaguchi) (T, 2k)

Character/Relationship Focus: Shiro & Pidge

Summary:

Shiro isn't feeling well; Pidge is a godsend.

Why You Should Read:

If sickfics are your jam, this is a really darn good one! The characterization is spot-on, and I love Pidge’s no-nonsense approach to comforting Shiro. Also, just… please enjoy the mental image of Pidge wandering around in her pajamas with a wrench in the middle of the night.

Spark to Ignite by BossToaster (@bosstoaster) (T, 11k)

Character/Relationship Focus: Shiro-centric

Summary:

Shiro wakes up in the dark.

He is alone.

Why You Should Read:

This fic will COMPLETELY RIP YOUR HEART APART with poignant Shiro angst, but I promise it’ll put your heart back together at the end. An excellent read if you need some really intense angst but you’re not into sad endings. Plus, the characterizations are spot-on.

die but once by againstmygreenleaf (T, 20k)

Character/Relationship Focus: Hunk-centric

Summary:

There's no art to being armor. It's more of a discordant knee jerk of an instinct.

Four times Hunk takes one for his team, one time he takes one for the cause. Essentially a collection of gratuitous, self-indulgent Hunk whump.

Why You Should Read:

So many Hunk feels! So many friendship feels! So much cute, clever dialogue! So many CUDDLES! And the whole thing is beautifully written—so much attention to subtle little details.