#which is the first of the tattoos she ever got at the tender age of *checks notes* 13

[smol-feralgremlin]

FebruarOC Day 19: Sylpha

This image was created with Picrew’s “Black Centered Picrew <3“!!  https://picrew.me/share?cd=IkRXEnPTT6 #Picrew #Black_Centered_Picrew_3

Everyones favourite half-elf.

And by favourite, I mean to only a few people at the time most people meet her in the beginning of the Defenders of Alcadia series.

Former pirate, and now personal guard to Crown Prince Aldon Drogr.

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

BTS DRABBLE-Jeon Jungkook

You had been inseparable. Best friends. Joined at the hip. No one could say your name without it being directly followed by the name Jeon Jungkook. But somewhere along the way, things had changed, had gotten complicated, and now, you're not quite sure where the two of you stand. You know how you still feel about him-how you've always felt about him-but your once best friend is a little harder to read, and unfortunately, right now, he's thinking the same thing about you.

Tags: BTS, Bangtan Boys, Bangtan Seonyendan, Bulletproof Boy Scouts, Beyond the Scene, BTS Drabble, Angst, Fluff, Pining, Jeon Jungkook, Jungkook, JK, Jungkook x you, Jungkook x reader, Jeon Jungkook x you, Jeon Jungkook x reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Mutual Pining

Soundtrack: Love Race by MGK ft. Kellin Quinn

Title: Make a Change

"Dude, just go and talk to her." Taehyung elbows Jungkook again in the ribs, making him hiss and take a step away from the other man, where they stand, leaning against the lip of the bar.

"Dude, I told you." Jungkook mocks back, shooting his friend a sharp glare, as he rubs at the now sore spot on his ribs. "It's not that simple."

Taehyung scoffs. "How hard can it be?" He gulps down the last dregs of his drink and motions to the bar tender for a refill.

He looks jaunty and handsome-Jungkook thinks-dark hair pushed off his forehead, jacket loose and open around his dress shirt, revealing a swath of tan chest. Confident and cool.

Just how Jungkook wishes he could be in this moment, but instead, he's filled with dread and something akin to nervous indecision.

"Weren't you guys like best friends growing up?" Taehyung asks, nodding in thanks to the bar tender who has slid another drink to him, before he cocks a dark brow in Jungkook's direction and pins him down with a knowing stare.

Yeah, and that's the problem. Jungkook thinks morosely to himself, as he dares another quick glance across the restaurant to your table.

You look happy. You're laughing at something one of your friends has said-Jungkook thinks he remembers her name is Ryunjin-head thrown back, eyes alight.

Happy without him.

Jungkook tears his gaze away, reaching for his drink to take another gulp, and as the whiskey burns its way down his throat, he forces himself to swallow any lingering hope with the alcohol.

******

"Hey, isn't that Jeon Jungkook?" Ryunjin, wiping tears from her eyes after laughing too hard, asks, as she reaches for her margarita which is now condensing onto the slick surface of the table.

"What?!" You whirl around in your seat a little too fast, and the other girls snicker at your eagerness.

But Ryunjin is right, because as soon as your eyes land on the broad shoulders and narrow waist of the man standing at the bar-back to you-you know, with a loss of breath and punch to your gut, that it is indeed Jeon Jungkook.

Even though he has changed his hair-it's long now, almost to his shoulders, and dyed a dark purple blue that makes his skin tone seem to glow caramel in the overhead lights-and you're fairly certain you catch a glint of an eyebrow piercing as he turns to his companion and says something too low for you to hear, your soul immediately recognizes him.

How could it not, when you've been in love with him ever since you first met at the tender age of seven.

"Oooh, Jungkook is back in town." Wheein nudges you playfully, and the other girls giggle once more around the table. "Why don't you go say hi, (Y/N)?"

You know she's teasing, but you can't seem to return the joke, or even a smile in her direction, because suddenly, you can't breathe, and though it's crazy, the only thing you can think about is tapping him on the shoulder, saying his name, watching his eyes light up and his lips part to reveal bunny teeth as he turns and recognizes you and then-

And then what?

Nothing. You think honestly to yourself, as you force yourself to look away from Jungkook and turn back to your friends, who are all watching you expectantly, but you don't meet their eyes, as you take a gulp of your drink.

Nothing will happen. Because Jeon Jungkook seems fine without you.

*****

Jungkook manages not to think about you for a whole day-it takes a lot of mental gymnastics and conscious avoidance of his thoughts-and he thinks he might be okay, when you run into each other at the local coffee shop.

With one accidental bump in the doorway, all of his hard work from the last twenty four hours disappears in a cloud of nonexistent smoke.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" You yelp out, trying to avoid spilling your fresh coffee all over yourself, and he thinks you're going to say something else, but when you look up and your eyes meet his, the words seem to die on your lips.

He knows the feeling.

He forces himself to say something, anything, as he stares at you dumbly, coffee cup clenched a little too tightly in his fist. "I didn't-I'm sorry-" He's stuttering, something he knows he does when he's nervous or overly excited, and in this moment, the harsh pounding of his heart in his chest is probably a testament to the fact that he's both.

"Jungkook." You breathe out his name, and dammit all, it makes his knees weak, because he doesn't know how long it's been since he's heard you say it, or had you look at him so intensely.

"Get out of the way." A hurried patron, probably tired of the two of you frozen in the doorway, pushes past Jungkook and leaves the shop in a blast of winter air and jingling bells.

It's enough to force Jungkook into moving.

"Do you want to-" He motions toward a nearby table, not missing the fact that you check the clock on the wall with a flick of your eyes, as if you have somewhere to be, and suddenly he feels like an inconvenience.

"Sure." You smile at him, and it takes his breath away, because it's brighter and more beautiful than he had remembered. You nod. "I have a couple of minutes."

He feels the air release from his lungs as he follows you toward the table beside the window, fingers still clenched around his coffee a little too tightly, and heart still beating a little too loudly.

******

You take a sip of your coffee and try not to stare at Jungkook where he sits across from you at the small table.

The quiet between the two of you isn't awkward-like you had thought it would be-but is instead, almost comforting, as if you can just fall back into place where you left off.

Though you know that's far from the truth.

"You changed your hair." You blurt into the silence, offering him a sheepish smile at the volume of your voice. You swallow, and try again. "I like it."

"Thanks." Jungkook replies, offering you half a grin, and the glimpse of his strong front teeth has you feeling as if you're going to fall through the floor and disappear completely into the mess that is your own feelings.

He reaches up to twirl a finger around a loose lock of purple hair. "I just needed a change I guess."

You nod. "I get that."

And you do. Because ever since he left, you have felt like your life has been nothing but changes, all in the lame attempt to distract yourself from thinking about him.

The man sitting across from you now, as if nothing has changed, Jeon Jungkook.

"You got a tattoo." Jungkook remarks, eyebrow cocking slightly, as he reaches out suddenly to tug your forearm toward him across the table.

The touch of his fingers on your skin feels like electricity and you have to force yourself not to jump.

"Yeah." You say faintly, clearing your throat, as you meet his gaze-irises warm and caramel-and suddenly, you feel as if you're warm, regardless of the brisk breeze that keeps assaulting you every time the shop door is opened to admit another winter swept customer. "Just needed a change." You parrot back his own words lamely in an attempt to focus on something-anything-else.

"I like it." Jungkook sweeps a careful finger across the lines of the tattoo, tracing the curling black ink where it marks your skin, and he seems calm, unaffected, by the fact that he's suddenly touching you after years of being apart.

You, on the other hand, feel as if you're going to pass out from lack of air.

Your feelings are dangerously close to the surface, so you pull your arm gently from his grasp, and glance once more at the clock on the wall, before you say apologetically, "Ah, I have to go." You stand, almost knocking your chair over in your hurry to escape before you say something vulnerable and stupid.

Jungkook stands with you, and he offers you a smile-and it might be your imagination, but it's tinged with something akin to sadness-as he says carefully, "It was good to see you again (Y/N)."

You swallow hard. "You too, Jungkook."

And then you hurry from the coffee shop before anything else can escape your lips and potentially bare your soul.

*****

The next time Jungkook sees you, he's more than a little surprised to witness you getting off a motorcycle in the library's parking lot.

As you pull off your helmet and shake out your hair, the only thing-shamelessly-that crosses Jungkook's mind as he openly stares at you is shit, you're hot. Like, really hot.

You must notice him staring, because stowing your helmet at the back of your bike, you flash him a sheepish grin and give a little wave in his direction.

Jungkook makes his feet move toward you, and before he can stop himself, he's running a hand over the body of the motorcycle, admiring the way it gleams in the early afternoon sunlight, as he says stupidly, "You got a bike."

You laugh, and god, he hadn't remembered how much he had missed that sound until that exact moment.

"Yeah." You shrug and offer him a mischievous smile, as you knock shoulders with him gently in a gesture that shouldn't, but nonetheless, gets his heart racing in his chest. "I needed a change."

"I get that." Jungkook realizes you're just repeating your conversation from the coffee shop-noting each other's differences that have developed in the time you've been apart-but he can't bring himself to care, because maybe this is a new thing developing between the two of you, and he kind of likes that.

"You got a-" You hesitate for a moment, as if searching for something to give away how he got here, and then finally seem to settle on, with a slightly teasing look, "New pair of shoes."

Jungkook sees you wince, as if silently berating yourself for the bad joke, but he grins, and that seems to relax you a bit, because you return the smile.

And he hates to admit it, but being around you is just as easy as he remembers.

You scuff the cement of the parking lot with the toe of your boot, and glance toward the library, and suddenly, Jungkook remembers he has stopped you from whatever errand you were in the middle of.

He blushes, he can feel the heat on his cheeks, and then motions with his head in the direction of the library. "Sorry. I'll let you go."

You seem to battle with yourself for a moment-the silence suddenly between the two of you makes Jungkook feel smothered-but then you stick your hands in your pockets and without quite looking at him, ask casually, "Well, I mean, if you're not doing anything else."

You glance away, and he can't tell if you're embarrassed or feeling as awkward as he is. You push on, as he holds his breath. "I mean, you're welcome to come if you want. We could get coffee afterward?" You finally look up at him again, and Jungkook thinks is heart is going to bottom out, as you offer him the hint of a smile and shrug, as if you don't really care either way.

But he cares. He cares way too much.

So he nods-trying to act nonchalant-and you walk side by side into the library.

*****

The next time you spend time with Jungkook, things feel a bit more like a new normal, rather than an awkward happenstance of bumping into each other in a coffee shop or the parking lot.

This time, it all feels a little bit more deliberate.

And maybe, it's the cheap wine cooler you're both sipping from as the night progresses, but suddenly, you don't feel so bad inside when you're with him.

As if-maybe-things are getting easier, feelings are being buried, you're healing from the last time you saw him so many years ago.

And you've never seen Jungkook laugh this much, so maybe-possibly-he feels the same way.

"Whoa, whoa." Jungkook says in between laughs and another drink from the wine cooler, as he catches his breath and leans against the pool table, looking at you with doe eyes wide with mirth. "You did not. Sehun from high school? That guy was a dick, (Y/N)!" He grins at you, all bunny teeth and bright eyes. "Oh how the mighty have fallen."

"Shut up, Jeon." You snap back, though you're not serious, not in the slightest, as you shoot him a playful glare, and lean over the pool table to shoot another striped ball into your pocket. Straightening up, you grin at him triumphantly, before saying, "I had some bad years, okay? Don't judge me."

"Yeah, but Sehun though." Jungkook whistles, eyebrows raised, as he leans over to take his own shot, sinking the ball easily, in a way that has you admiring the ripple of his curled muscles over the table. "No judgement. Whatever gets you off."

"Oh. Really?" You scoff in offense, as Jungkook straightens and shoots you a slightly wicked grin across the pool table. He wants to play mean and he wants you to know it.

Well, two can play at that game.

"That's how you want to play?" You fire back, noting that Jungkook has set aside his pool stick and is moving around the pool table toward you, most likely trying to intimidate you. You won't let him, so you say the first thing that comes to your mind. "And what would you know about getting me off, Jeon? Hmmm?"

As soon as the words are out of your mouth, you regret them, Jungkook's expression instantly turning from teasing and open and playful to close and guarded, as he stops in his tracks, barely inches in his advance from being within touching range.

You part your lips, mouth suddenly dry, and you want to apologize, to take it back, but you can't, because all the feelings between the two of you are back, in the open, stifling the air you breathe.

And the only thing you can think, in that moment, watching Jungkook's eyes close off to you and turn dark, is shit, you've lost him again.

****

Jungkook is stunned into silence and frozen in place by your taunting words.

He knows-by the sudden horrified look in your eyes-that you hadn't meant to say them.

But they're out now, sitting tense in the air between the two of you, and as he watches the way your fingers turn white on the pool stick you still hold, he knows.

He has two options.

He can run away again-relive all the hurt and the distance and the unsaid feelings and ideas that he had been allowing to plague him ever since that last night years ago-or.

Or.

"You're right." He admits into the thick, tense atmosphere between the two of you, and the words, the words as they leave his lips, seem to release some of the pressure in the air, as if deflating a balloon. "You're right, I don't know anything about it."

He sees the way your eyes flash with surprise behind the guard you have put up, and his heart is pounding behind his ribs, threatening to choke off the air supply to his throat, but he can't, he can't, leave again, can't just let everything be unsaid, not like last time.

Because this time is different. This time, he knows what he's giving up if he doesn't stay.

So he makes himself face it. Makes himself say the words to you. Makes himself stay, makes his feet walk toward you, instead of away from you.

Because this time is going to be different. Because he'll make it so.

"I don't know what gets you off, (Y/N)." He repeats, because you're still staring at him like he's grown a second head, and hes careful, as he steps toward you, not to scare you off, because you're staring to look like a deer in the headlights behind the shock. "But I was hoping-"

He stutters over his words, his breath locked in his throat, as you stare back at him.

He forces himself to go on.

"I was hoping, maybe, this time could be different. And maybe, you'd be willing to teach me."

******

You can't think of a single thing to say in response to his quiet request, and as you stare dumbly at Jungkook standing before you-so close that you can feel his breath on your face-you have to force yourself to remember to breathe.

He's asking you to teach him? He's asking you to repeat that night over again, just in the hopes that it won't end the same? That you won't end up heartbroken and regretting ever messing around with your best friend?

He's asking you to relive the heartbreak, and trust that he won't run away like he did before?

He's asking you to tell him-stupidly, naively-just how you feel about him in no uncertain terms? And expect him to act differently this time? Expect him to be okay with it this time, all these years later?

Maybe you're looking too deeply into this.

Maybe you're being crazy, and all Jeon Jungkook-purple haired, eyebrow piercing, sneaker wearing, Jungkook-is actually asking you to do is teach him what you want, what actually gets you off in bed and nothing more.

But you can't help but read into it-not when his wide doe eyes are holding yours so intently, not when you've wanted nothing more since the day he left-and so, without thinking, ignoring the voice that's calling you a stupid over and over again in your head, you nod.

Jungkook's eyes widen, and you're cursing your future self already for the heartbreak she's setting you up for.

But It's Jeon Jungkook.

Your best friend, the boy you've been secretly in love with for years, and his words are ringing true in your head.

This time really does have the potential to be different.

So without a word, you step past him and lock the door to the apartment rec room.

*****

Jungkook's brain doesn't register the click of the door lock until you're back standing in front of him and reaching for his hand.

"Ever done it on a pool table, Jeon?" You ask, and the way your lips are curling at the corners into the start of a mischievous smirk has Jungkook's heart racing in his chest as you pull him forward toward you.

"No." He's proud that he manages to keep the stutter from his voice as your back hits said table and you guide his hands to your waist, buts he's certain you hear the way his breath hitches as your body meets his. "Have you?"

"No." You grin and cock your head in an innocent sort of way that belies the fact that your fingers are creeping beneath the material of his shirt to stroke hot patterns across his skin. "But it could be a nice change."

Without thinking, because he can't think anyway when you're touching him, Jungkook lifts you up onto the ledge of the table and he can only marvel momentarily at how easy it was, before your legs are wrapping around his waist and you're pulling him even closer, if that's possible.

Your lips are so close to his that he's pretty sure he can already taste the mint chapstick you have always worn, and trying to distract himself from the sudden urge of need that has swept over him at your closeness, he teases hoarsely, "You're pretty into changes aren't you?"

You shrug, and your exhale washing over his face has Jungkook trying to hold back a shudder of anticipation, fingers digging into the pool table on either side of your hips, and you must notice, because you're doing that little nose crinkling grin again as your arms find their way around his neck.

"I dunno. I guess." You murmur under your breath, and you must know the way your body fits to his and the sudden low lilt of your voice is driving him mad, because you're leaning back, pulling him down onto the pool table with you. "But only if they're for the better."

******

You note the way Jungkook's pupils blow as you pull him down to you, and you like feeling in control as you hover your lips teasingly over his, although on the inside, your mind is screaming at the way his rock hard body feels covering yours, and you have to remind yourself to breathe as you tease his name quietly into the space between you, "Jungkook."

"Hmmm." He hums beneath his breath, the sound giving way to the start of a low groan, as you dance your fingers along the edge of skin above the hem of his pants, playing with the button there for a moment, as his hot eyes meet yours.

"Will you teach me?" You ask, only partially teasing, as you finally allow your fingers to open the closure on his pants.

Jungkook's hands slide down the line of your body, his fingers digging into the divet of your hip bones, and suddenly, he's leaning forward and capturing your mouth with his in a wet, sloppy kiss-teeth knocking together, tongues fighting for space-as if he can't wait any longer.

But regardless, as his body melds to yours on top of the pool table, you're pretty sure it's the best damn kiss you've ever had.

"I'm pretty sure you don't need me to teach you anything." Jungkook pants out when your lips separate for just a moment, his words once again biting off on a sharp intake of breath, as you guide his fingers further down to the bare skin of your thighs.

"Maybe." You shrug, your own breath caught in your throat, as Jungkook takes over.

Maybe he didn't need as much teaching as he thought either.

*****

Jungkook collapses beside you on the table, out of breath, skin hot and sticky, thoroughly spent, and he's not ashamed to admit-as the two of you lay side by side, gasping for air-that he's just had the best sex he's ever experienced.

He feels you lean up and over him, and cracking open one eye, he reaches up to push sweaty, purple bangs out of his gaze, as he asks hoarsely, "What?"

You shrug, still staring down at him, and a sly grin cracks your lips, still swollen and flushed from kissing. "Nothing" You lay back down beside him, and somehow, his fingers tangle with your own. "You're just really good. Thanks to my careful tutelage."

"Ha." Jungkook barks out a sarcastic laugh at your jibe, and closes his eyes once more, allowing himself just to feel, just to be, in the moment with you for a little bit longer.

The quiet stretches on for a few more minutes, and once the shaking in Jungkook's legs has subsided, he props himself up on an elbow, running a hand methodically over the green felt of the pool table as he stares down at you.

Now it's your turn to crack open your eye and shoot him a glare. "What?"

"You top now." He acknowledges, trying to bite back a grin, as your eyes widen and you reach out half heartedly to try to smack him, palm warm against the bare cooling skin of his chest.

"I needed a change." You quip back, sticking your tongue out at him, as you sit up and reach for your discarded clothing.

Jungkook slides down from the table, pulling on his pants, as he mulls over the thought that keeps returning to the forefront of his mind, and he knows, he knows he should just bite his tongue, not say something stupid,

But he can't. He has to. Because he promised himself-and you-that this time would be different.

"I love you." He blurts it out before he can talk himself out of it and instantly berates himself for being so stupid, as the sound of your rustling clothes stops from behind him, and the room goes silent.

Jungkook swears he can hear his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest.

He forces himself to turn and face you, arm halfway in his shirt, and is surprised to see a soft smile flicker across your lips as you stare at him, eyes warm and open and affectionate.

His breath returns to his lungs.

"You said it first this time." You remark carefully, and Jungkook wonders how often you have replayed your last scene together in your head over the years, how long it has hurt you.

"Yeah." Jungkook nods, and bites his lip, suddenly feeling so much in one moment that he doesn't know where to start. So he settles on the easiest thing for now, the rest will come later. "I thought we needed a change."

[1dmonthlyficroundup]

1D Monthly Fic Roundup

Hi, and welcome to the 1D Monthly Fic Roundup for July 2021! Below you’ll find One Direction fics that were all published this month in the order they were submitted to the blog. We hope you’ll check out these new fics! If you would like to submit your own fic, please check this post on how to submit or visit our blog @1dmonthlyficroundup​.

Happy reading!

Game Changer by @neondiamond

[Harry/Louis, 6k, Mature, tumblr post]

“Did the doctor say what was wrong with you?”

“He thought I was pregnant,” Louis scoffs. “Told me to go home and take a test, a pregnancy test, Haz. Can you imagine the nerve it takes for him to even think that?”

Harry looks lost in his thoughts for a few seconds. “Did you? Take a test, I mean?”

“Of course I didn’t.”

OR: A couple months before playing in his first long-awaited World Cup, Louis finds out he’s pregnant. Harry’s there for the ride.

(I Was Broke) You Healed Me by @fallinglikethis

[Harry/Niall, 12k, Teen and up, tumblr post]

Niall Horan is an unmated pregnant omega living on his own after his alpha boyfriend leaves him. Far from his family and friends in Ireland, Niall is stuck living in a complex for Alpha/Omega bondmates, terrified every day of being found out by his landlord.As if that isn't enough, he's suffering from touch deprivation. Luckily, Niall's doctor can at least help him with that part: she prescribes Niall some cuddle sessions. It's only a little weird that the person she's prescribing him is her brother. Or maybe that's actually a little bit perfect.

The Only Pain in Pleasure is the Pleasure of the Pain by Layne Faire / @laynefaire

[Liam/Zayn, 10k, Explicit, tumblr post]

Liam had followed InZaynity, an artist's Instagram, for ages. Not only was the artist incredibly talented, his voice poured over Liam like warm honey on a winter's night, and his hands were the stuff Liam's wank dreams were made of. However, having Zayn unexpectedly arrive as the newest artist at his best friend's tattoo shop brought Liam's fantasies and reality a little too close for comfort.

Zayn Malik met his boss' friend on his first day at Fine Line Tattoos, and felt an instant attraction. Unfortunately, given Liam's unwillingness to even hold a conversation with him, Zayn was certain the feelings weren't reciprocal. Or were they?

When Liam's new tattoo design falls outside the scope of Tommo's talent, and he recommends Zayn do it, Liam reluctantly agrees. Surely he could manage to spend hours in Zayn's company without revealing his biggest secret, right? Right?

Blow Me Away by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

[Louis/Liam, 6k, Explicit, tumblr post]

Louis likes giving blow jobs.

He doesn't exactly get off on it – he's been with people who properly loved it, and he's not quite that into it – but he doesn't mind the feel or the taste and he really, really likes watching his partner lose it, so getting down on his knees regularly is a no brainer.

Which is why it's a bit frustrating that every time he does, Liam hauls him back up again.

Why Didn't We Make Out the Night We Met? by @berzerkshires

[Louis/Harry, 52k, Explicit, tumblr post]

Louis and Harry meet in an alley outside the hotel Louis is staying for the weekend. Harry introduces himself as Ed, and Louis is completely clueless. They have a relationship through text messages, phone calls, shared pictures and Facetime calls. Is a cell phone being the only source of communication enough? Will Louis ever learn that he's really talking to an international popstar? And what happens when the world is shutdown due to a wide spread virus?

I Love This Feeling (But I Hate This Part) by @lululawrence

[Harry/Louis, 7k, Not rated, tumblr post]

“Stand up.”

Harry stood up from the couch, not a moment’s delay.

“Oh my god, is that what that’s like?” Harry turned to Louis, surprise on his face. “I really thought they were somehow exaggerating, but it really is an automatic response with absolutely no thought from me behind it whatsoever.”

Louis sighed again. “You really wanna keep doing this? Have me use my alpha voice on you so you can work on resisting it?”

“Yup,” Harry said, clapping his hands and smiling. “How else am I going to be able to have any chance at reducing the power an alpha voice has on me?”

I Said It Wrong, But I Meant It Right by @lululawrence

[Liam/Nick Grimshaw, 4k, Not rated, tumblr post]

Nick was a bit of a disaster, but she was used to it.

Or so she thought. She had never known how much she could struggle just to function until the new fire lady goddess angel person winked at her.

Oh, Those Summer Nights by cherrylarry / @beelou

[Louis/Harry, 1k, General, tumblr post]

“Are you okay?” He kneels down to inspect where Harry still has his hand pressed against his head.

“Oh! Yeah, I’m fine.”

“My name’s Louis. Can I buy you dinner or something to make up for hitting you in the head?”

Harry crinkles his eyebrows. “Me?”

Louis chuckles. “Yes, you. If you’d like?”

“Yeah. That would be nice.” Harry smiles so that his dimples show. “I’m Harry.”

“Harry, it's a date, then." Louis grins.

An extended scene of the beginning of the movie Grease as a larry au

people fall in love in mysterious ways (maybe just the touch of a hand) by @vintageumbroshirt / 28sunflowers, @justalarryblog / Bekita, @bluecolouredlou , @beelou / cherrylarry, @thedevilinmybrain / devilinmybrain, @hershelsue / docklands, @foreverfanficaddict,@idolizingthelight / idolizingthelightt, @inlockets / loveroflou, @perfectdagger, @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed / we_are_the_same

[Louis/Harry, 13k, Teen and up, tumblr post]

Set in a world where meeting your soulmate causes a literal spark, Louis Tomlinson has no time for fate. He knows all too well the heartbreak that having a soulmate can bring and he'd rather avoid the whole affair. But, when a chance meeting with up-and-coming popstar, Harry Styles, causes the biggest electrical surge the world has ever seen, Louis must confront the truth that sometimes destiny knocks when you least expect it.

Somehow, Someway by @zanniscaramouche

[Louis/Harry, 16k, Teen and up, tumblr post]

Louis Tomlinson has everything all figured out for a smooth post-graduation sailing into the perfect career in the music industry. A canceled class, a high school play, and a disarming set of dimples were not part of the plan. (Especially when they belong to a boy wearing someone else’s jacket.)

Featuring: A punk with the worst timed crush in history, that moody art kid that never shares cigarettes, the cutest pastel-pink wearing boy on the planet, and his unfortunately nice bottle-blond jock of a boyfriend.

Forts & Fortunes by @neondiamond

[Louis/Harry, 2k, General, tumblr post]

It’s finals week at uni and Harry is struggling to find a healthy balance between studying and tending to his needs. Lucky for him, Louis is there to help him out with that.

One way to reduce tension by @neondiamond

[Harry/Louis, 1k, Explicit, tumblr post]

Harry knows of a few ways to help Louis get rid of some pent up stress…

We Got a Call by @greenblueish / bluegreenish

[Louis/Harry, 24k, Mature, tumblr post]

“Fisher from St Peter hospital, hello. Is this Mr Tomlinson?”

Louis’ eyebrows furrow in concern. Why is the hospital calling him? Has someone he knows been in an accident? “Uh, yes?”

“Great. Your results are in. Congratulations, you’re pregnant!”

“Pregnant?” he chokes, the word almost getting caught in his throat.

“Yes, without doubt,” the woman from the hospital confirms, her voice neutral but somehow chirpy. “I recommend promptly booking an appointment with your ob/gyn to discuss how to proceed.”

"I...Yeah, I’ll talk to my … partner.”

or, the one where Louis and Harry Tomlinson are married and Louis accepts a phone call that was definitely meant for his husband.

How Long Will We Fall (Before We Can Climb) by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou

[Louis/Harry, 860 words, General, tumblr post]

Louis' faith in Harry is unbreakable. When they get caught kissing and he is thrown out of his home forever, he has to learn to have faith in himself.

Rope, Leather and Lipstick by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou

[Louis/Harry, 552 words, Mature, tumblr post]

Something about ropes around wrists, and tinting skin the colour of strawberry ice cream, tender and kissed by dark lips. Smudging sticky red lipstick across the slight blue shadow of veins, and assuring hands tightening knots.

Lies & Liability by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou

[Louis/Harry, 34k, Mature, tumblr post]

Harry Styles has only three wishes when he leaves River Dane Manor to go to Town for his first season: that his sister has rented a townhouse that will provide him as many of the comforts of the country life he has grown accustomed to as possible, that he will not trip and fall when he is presented to Her Majesty the Queen, and that he will enter matrimony out of true love, no matter how favourable the match with any which alpha may be.

Sugar at Night by @brightgolden

[Harry/Louis, 33k, Explicit, tumblr post]

With a year left before he completes his degree, a wonderful fiancé, and a baby coming soon, life is going exceptionally well for Harry Styles.

But, the truth always has a way to unravel itself, doesn’t it?

So, what do you do when the person you fell in love with is not the person you thought they were?

I got myself in a mess (and without you I'm in more) by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed / we_are_the_same

[Zayn/Liam, 9k, Mature, tumblr post]

It’s not desire that has his synapses firing. It’s not the urge to jump him that makes him feel jittery.

It’s the fact that everything about this man - a nice, unassuming guy on Tinder, who studied IT and who seemed like a safe choice - screams danger. It’s the fact that Zayn has been absently touching his necklace for what feels like half the night now.

The necklace. Thank God for Lou, honestly. He’d laughed a bit, at first, when Louis had given it to him, when he’d explained all about the app that it was connected to, the emergency contacts that would be notified and sent his exact location “if you just double tap the back of the charm, see” because Louis was that friend, the mom friend, but right now? Right now Zayn will gladly take the gentle ribbing from Louis if it means he won’t have to spend another moment with this guy.

I don't care if the world knows by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed / we_are_the_same

[Louis/Harry, 6k, Teen and up, tumblr post]

Harry is fourteen when she buys her first binder. She’s been doing cosplay videos on Tiktok for a while at that point, and it seems like the logical choice. Not that there’s anything wrong with cosplaying characters of the opposite gender and not wanting to fully look like them, she’s seen plenty of wonderful creators put their own spin on characters in a way that transcends the source material, but when it comes to her own cosplays -

She just likes it to be accurate.

She likes her chest to be flat, not soft and curvy, when she’s wearing her Crowley cosplay, or when she’s transformed herself into Loki.

It’s all about the aesthetics.

∞

Over the course of a few years, Harry explores and comes to terms with gender identity.

It’s Probably Because I’ve Got a Big Lesbian Crush on You by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright

[Louis/Harry, 6k, Teen and up, tumblr post]

Harry's never really concerned herself with being part of the popular crowd. But as the new girl in school the second semester of her junior year, she finds herself unwittingly competing for Queen Bee status against high school royalty Louis Tomlinson. Maybe there's more to their rivalry than it seems.

A not-quite-Mean Girls AU

Going Green (so fucking green) by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright

[Louis/Harry, 5k, Explicit, tumblr post]

Harry just really loves being used, and Louis really loves Harry. Who is he to deny him?

Or: Reduce, Reuse, Recycle but make it BDSM

the next bit was spanners to my plan by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

[Louis/Nick Grimshaw, 6k, Teen and up, tumblr post]

The first time was an accident. The second time was an accident too.

Or: Louis and Nick end up shagging on the sly, everyone sends far too many emojis and far too few words, and eventually they're going to have to sort themselves out.

Trust Me Tonight by @vintageumbroshirt / 28sunflowers

[Louis/Harry, 10k, Explicit, tumblr post]

After Harry’s eighteenth birthday, his father calls him into a meeting to say that he is to be married to Prince Louis of France in just over a week.

Harry is excited, of course. The arrangement is better than any he could’ve hoped for, with such a young, handsome and kind husband.

There is just one issue: Harry doesn’t know what happens on his nuptials, or how to get pregnant to give Louis the heir that he needs.

Can we make it any more obvious? by LouStylesHTommo / @smolhilariousbeans

[Louis/Harry, 6k, Explicit, tumblr post]

Five times the boys accidentally walked in on Harry & Louis plus one time they did it on purpose.

Aka Niall, Zayn, Liam being supportive of Lou&H sexy shenanigans.

darling just dive right in by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed / we_are_the_same

[Zayn/Louis, 5k, Teen and up, tumblr post]

Louis can’t think of a worse place to be than at the Malik estate, attending his ex boyfriend's wedding.

Shining just for you by ThoseFookin_Avacados / @hlhome28

[Harry/Louis, 1k, General, tumblr post]

For a clumsy person, Harry danced with quite the grace- spinning around Louis, billowy light robes brushing against his firm darker ones. Despite his slightly smaller build, Louis was decivingly strong, his grip on Harry's waist tight as they performed their steps in sync. Like two opposite halves of a whole, like ones reflection in the mirror, like the sun and the moon.

Part 2 of the Prompt Generator series

crown me with your heart (your love is king) by @perfectdagger

[Louis/Harry, 41k, General, tumblr post]

The universe must’ve had a field day when it decided to plan Harry’s life. There was no plausible explanation for anything that happened in his life anymore. Try as he may, he would never be able to control his life nor predict what would happen next. What were the odds that the one person he was sure he had fallen in love with but had completely let him slip out of his life, already resigned to the fact nothing could ever evolve between them due to Harry’s future with Eroda, happened to be the same person who had Harry’s future in his hand?

A The Princess Diaries 2: Royal Wedding au in which Harry is the Crown Prince of the small island of Eroda and Louis’ uncle is trying to take the throne from him, with a slight a/b/o twist and some more.

[novelconcepts]

I love your filling in of the moonflower scene. Just the tenderness of it all 🥺

Do you think you might write a short piece about Dani finding the first grey in Jamie‘s hair in the future? Every time I see the gifsets of Jamie‘s (very sexy) grey strands I have to think about Dani‘s possible reaction

Jamie doesn’t tend to notice these things--little changes in her own appearance, little alterations made by the simple passage of time. Her attention, she scoffs when Dani laughs over her failing to pick up on a burr caught in her hair after a trip to the park, is better suited to other things. “World’s big,” she says, tilting her head to allow Dani to comb the remnants of whatever tree she’d walked beneath from her curls. “Why should I go wasting time starin’ at my own damn face?”

“Because it’s a good face,” Dani tells her. She doesn’t add that Jamie’s face, like everything about her, makes more sense than the rest of the world. That nothing about Jamie seems to come out of nowhere--every scrape and scar is accounted for with a story, every wrinkle turned out from the edge of her lips or around her eyes sparked by the familiarity of her frown, the inevitability of her smile. Everything about Jamie can be traced back to the honesty of time spent in the sun, or injuries incurred at work, or letting another year stroke its fingers across her skin. 

She notices the first gray hair maybe five years in. They’re on a camping trip, small tent pitched just upshore of a gently lapping brook; Jamie, crouched beside the water to inspect a turtle, looks up with a grin, and Dani notes a flash of silver at the crown of her head.

She doesn’t point it out. It’s too easy to anticipate Jamie’s amused drawl: “Got a gorgeous beast right here, and you’re worried about my hair?” She tucks the knowledge safely away, entertained by the idea that Jamie is carrying a secret upon her own head and has no idea.

She says nothing, but her fingers seek out the unexpected silver the next time Jamie comes close enough. She trails her hand through rumpled hair, watching the familiar warmth of brown cascade across her skin, pleased to find several more bursts of light wound in among the dark.

“What?” Jamie asks, smile crooking the way it always does when she senses Dani is about to poke fun. “Bein’ a weirdo again.”

“Am not,” Dani replies, and kisses her. 

It becomes a bit of a private game, an amusing turn of events: Jamie, the most naturally-observant human being in the world, has absolutely no idea she’s shot through with unexpected arcs of silver. No idea at all. At first, Dani thinks she’s intentionally ignoring the color leaching out of her hair; a flash of memory spirals back, Judy plucking what she called my little secret out by the strand and holding a finger to her lips as she reached for a box of red dye. Heavy maintenance is very much not Jamie’s speed, but maybe turning her cheek and feigning ignorance achieves the same goal.

A month goes by. A year. They’re turning up on their own time, these pops of colorless strands standing stark against dark waves, and Dani takes it upon herself to brush her fingers across each one she finds. She likes very much the depth they bring to Jamie’s hair, the way the sun catches a little differently when she turns her head. Likes the knowledge that each strand is a stamp of memory--proof of time spent. 

Likes, most of all, that Jamie legitimately seems to have no idea. Jamie, who tugs a black elastic band off her wrist with her teeth, raking the messy tumble out of her eyes, perpetually annoyed with the curls that always seem to evade her hands. Jamie, who spends hours with a book in one hand and Dani’s hair sifting through her fingers, and still has absolutely no clue what’s happening on her own head.

“You’ve never cared, have you?” Dani asks one afternoon, watching Jamie sort through their spectacular collection of cassette tapes, little plastic cases clicking comfortably to break up the quiet. Jamie, cross-legged on the living room rug with Survivor’s Vital Signs in one hand and REO Speedwagon’s Hi Infidelity in the other, raises her eyebrows.

“Seemed silly to go alphabetical while they were multiplying like fuckin’ bunnies, but now we’ve slowed down a little--”

“About looks,” Dani corrects. She’s hanging half off the couch, the tips of her fingers brushing Jamie’s knee. Life has been getting less predictable lately, messier around the edges; she looks into mirrors with breath held tight in her lungs, uncertain of what will look back. Touching Jamie has become less about habit and more a matter of lifeline. “You’ve never cared about how you look. Maybe the only woman I’ve ever known to say that.”

“I care,” Jamie says, with very little defensiveness. It is astonishing sometimes, looking back at the woman she’d met in that manor kitchen, how little defense Jamie seems to have for her these days. Questions are met in good faith, answered in kind, like Jamie knows there’s nothing Dani could ask that would intentionally bear teeth. “Care when I need to.”

“Like when?”

“At the shop,” Jamie says, tossing aside a Paul Simon cassette with a wrinkle of her nose. She finds Pat Benatar instead, sets it in the pile between The Beatles and Blondie. “Always look professional, don’t I?”

“But you don’t like--think about it? What you’ll look like in twenty years? Or fifty?”

“Fifty, Christ.” Jamie rolls back her head, grinning. “Be a hell of a thing, stacking fifty more years on. What d’you think you’ll look like in fifty years, mm?”

Dani doesn’t answer. It’s too early to tell what the smudged face in the mirror might mean--too early to panic--but the idea of fifty years more with Jamie seems terrifyingly unlikely. 

“Anyway.” Seeming to sense her unease, Jamie rocks up onto her knees, awkwardly shifting across the rug to lean against the couch. She braces a hand behind Dani’s head, her eyebrow arched. “You tryin’ to say I don’t pay enough attention to my looks? I don’t scrub up enough for you, is that it?”

Her fingers brush Dani’s ribs, digging in just hard enough to tickle. Dani squirms, laughter burbling out against Jamie’s neck. 

She doesn’t bring it up again, preferring the secret of Jamie’s slowly graying hair held within her own heart. The threads are becoming more insistent as the years drift by, joining tiny lines etched into Jamie’s skin. Her hands, put through so much work, are comfortably worn at knuckle and fingertip. Her smile pulls the skin around her eyes a little tighter as they celebrate eight years--nine--ten. 

She looks good with the extra age, Dani thinks. She wears it all so well, without pausing to prod at herself in the bathroom mirror; if she’s the least bit unnerved by the passage of time, she never lets it show. If Dani didn’t know better, she’d think Jamie never really looks at herself in the mirror at all. 

Too busy looking at me, she thinks, and tries not to ache at the idea that Jamie has forgotten herself beneath the need to keep her attention on what she considers more important things. Like watching for one of Dani’s moods to spike up in public. Like waiting for Dani’s shoulders to hunch against ghosts only she can see. 

Dani doesn’t look into mirrors herself much these days, either--though, every once in a while, a glimpse will sneak up. Just the barest flash of her own face in the passenger mirror of the car, or the idling bathwater. Sometimes--less and less often--the face waiting is even her own. 

It is so her own, those days, that Dani finds herself embracing a new concern. Something odd, something she’s only started to really see in recent memory. 

Jamie is starting to show her age, little by little. Not all at once, not in any way that is strange for a woman creeping into her forties--but the years are there, certainly, stamped gently into her skin. The years are threaded through her hair, these silver pops around which Dani’s hands seem to take on a mind of their own. There’s something wonderful, lively, even sexy about the way time is impacting Jamie--grounding her a little more every year, the natural wearing of all those hours hung like medals around her shoulders. 

Dani, catching sight of herself in the bathtub, can’t help but notice: no one could say the same for her. Not that time is beating away at her, not that time is turning her to stone before she’s ready--but that time appears to be doing nothing at all. Her eyes bear no extra marks, though she has spent just as much time as Jamie laughing, frowning, holding her breath as the world spins beneath her. Her hands look just the same as they had in 1987. 

Her hair is still stubbornly gold.

“Do you think it’s strange?” she whispers one night--not entirely sure if Jamie is even awake, not sure she can even bear the answer Jamie might give. 

“What is?”

She swallows hard, fingers carding gently through Jamie’s hair. The gray seems to gleam in the glow of the streetlamp through their window. 

“That I’m not...that I don’t look...”

Jamie pushes onto one elbow, peering at her in the dark. “You look like you,” she says, when Dani is unable to press on. “You look like Dani.”

She’s trying to answer the other question, Dani understands, the one being asked with greater frequency: am I here? am I me? what if I’m her, deep down, and have been all along? She shakes her head. 

“That’s not...I’m not...”

Jamie waits, brow knit the way it always has when she’s listening. Even when her expression smooths out into sleep, that small divot will remain, etched into her skin like a tattoo memorializing all these late-night conversations. Dani reaches up, presses her thumb gently to it now, her breath hitching when Jamie turns to kiss her palm. 

“It’s nothing,” she says. There’s no way to explain it without making Jamie worry more, worry again, lose yet more sleep watching for signs Dani is slipping away.

Jamie nods slowly, not quite believing, not quite daring to call out the lie. “All right,” she says, and the silver in her hair seems to burn, and Dani loves her enough to close her eyes and pretend everything is okay.

When morning comes, she wards off the thoughts. It’s easier, in daylight. Easier to turn her head, fix her eyes on Jamie, allow the familiarity of Jamie’s hands, smile, kiss sweep the fear back under the bed. The nights are long, the dark heavier than it has any right to be, but in sunlight, Jamie shines. The chain around her neck--the colors in her eyes--the silver shot through her hair. In sunshine, Jamie is the most alive any person can be.

And if she is, so must Dani be--because there is so much love in the way Jamie tips into her arms, so much affection in the sweep of her kiss, in the way she leads them around the kitchen in an impromptu waltz. Jamie, as always, burning away the shadows. 

Jamie, who dips her backward, drinking in her laughter with the biggest grin in the world. Who cuts her eyes to the right. Who tightens her mouth in surprise.

“Hang on,” she says, her hands still braced at Dani’s back and hip. “What the fuck is this?”

Dani’s heart gives a giant leap, her hands clutching at Jamie’s shirt for balance. This is it, she thinks. She can see her now. She can see her, not me, and it’s over, it’s all over, it’s--

“Dani.” Jamie is frowning, easing her back to her feet. She crouches down, gazing into the window of the oven. One hand rises to her head, her brow furrowed.

She sees her, Dani thinks, backing toward the sink. She sees her, and--

“Jesus, how long has my hair looked like that?” 

She blinks, shaking the panic away. “What?”

Jamie is looking at her, almost awestruck, her face clean and younger than usual with the last vestiges of sleep clinging to her eyes. “All that gray. Knew there were one or two, but--”

Dani is laughing. Leaning back against the counter, the mirth spilling out of her, she laughs. Jamie, straightening up with a low groan--her knees pop audibly, her head shaking--looks bewildered.

“Suppose you thought you’d just wait,” she says dryly, “and see if I ever noticed?”

Dani nods, cackling too hard to answer. It’s become so normal, counting the bright bursts amid Jaime’s natural hair color; she’s honestly forgotten Jamie ever didn’t have these silver sparks. Every inch of her, from the crow’s feet etched near her eyes to the tiny scars on her hands, is quite simply home. 

Jamie is plainly trying to look grumpy now, her hand tangling her hair. With Dani giggling like this, unable to catch her breath, she isn’t doing a very good job.

“Been this way a while?”

“Years,” Dani giggles. “Since I proposed. Before.”

Jamie rolls her eyes, slouching the two steps it takes to reach the counter and Dani’s shaking frame. “You,” she says in a mock-irritated tone, “are supposed to help with these things.”

“With what?” Dani brushes the hair back from her eyes. “You’re beautiful. And more than that, you’re...stately.”

“Stately,” Jamie repeats with a snort. “Haven’t heard that one. That’s a Hannah word, if ever there was one.”

They sober, just a little, the appropriate affection offered to memory. Jamie’s head bows against her own, her nose brushing Dani’s lightly. 

“I like it,” Dani says, her voice soft. “I like watching it happen. Like growing old...”

She trails off. She isn’t growing old, is the thing. Isn’t changing. Is as incontrovertible as a lake set into ancient grounds. She is not growing old at all.

Jamie’s fingers curl around her chin, tipping her head back. “Growing old together,” she says, firmly. Not denial, exactly--just certainty. Jamie, imposing her will on a world that tries so hard to have its own way with them both. 

“Growing old together,” Dani repeats, and even if it isn’t true in the strictest sense--even if it doesn’t look like it should--she knows Jamie believes it. Knows Jamie will fight tooth and nail to make the universe bend around her love. 

There are things, Jamie believes, that are natural. Organic. Exactly as they should be. There are things that can’t be changed by dreams, whims, magic spells. 

They will grow old together. That is, Jamie believes, the way the world works. The way it has always been and will always be. Jamie’s hair grows silver. Jamie’s skin etches with lines. Jamie’s hands are solid in her own, though she sometimes bends her fingers with a grimace, rubs her wrists when the weather angles toward snow. 

They will grow old together. For Jamie, there is simply no other consideration to be made.

“I like it,” Dani repeats, fingering the nearest strand of gray. “It’s distinguished.”

Jamie, shaking her head, is grinning as she leans in for a kiss.

[kenanda]

For the smut prompt a lonelyeyes mix of 106, 111 and 127? If you want only.

This took a while, but it was just too good a prompt not to give it my best shot. I hope you enjoy it.

Happy belated birthday!! Consider this your gift from moi <3 🎁🎉

prompt 106. “Were you just masturbating?” “U-uh..no, i was just..” “Want some help?” prompt 111. “You have no idea how much I want you.” prompt 127. “Are you wearing my shirt?”

CRAVING Rating: EXPLICIT Words: 5,7k Pairing: LonelyEyes Characters: Elias Bouchard; Peter Lukas; Tim Stoker; Martin Blackwood; Gertrude Robinson (mention); Jurgen Leitner (mention). Tags: Established Relationship; Parenthood; Smut; PWP; Mutual Pining; Fluff; Sweet; Masturbating; Cock sucking; Handjobs; Scent Kink; Fingering; Anal Fingering; Anal Sex; Dirty Talk; Banter; Wearing the other's clothes; Doting Parents!LonelyEyes; unbeta'd; Tim and Martin are their kids AGAIN

Disclaimer: These characters AREN’T mine. They belong to Rusty Quill’s The Magnus Archives. Warning: This work ISN’T SUITABLE for minors. It’s a NSFW piece of slash fiction. Therefore, if you’re a minor or in any way squicked by what’s in the tags, DO NOT READ!

Filthy, FILTHY LonelyEyes below the cut, my beloved. It's official, this is now a Verse.

Ever since they became parents, Peter and Elias haven’t known what alone time is anymore. Life is a jolly mess most of the time, with all things required for the rearing of two children. Even if the boys are now a bit older and can shoulder small responsibilities, it still seems like too much is going on at once.

Some days are more hectic than others, which often sends the two men to bed at 10PM feeling like they could sleep for days. Work hasn’t been any better in allowing for a break — Peter’s schedule has him away for months every now and again, and Elias can hardly ever catch a break from the Institute (he’s the Head, after all).

Needless to say, it all takes a toll on their love life. They can count in one hand the number of times they’ve had a weekend for themselves in the past few years. When they want sex, it’s always rushed and quiet, afraid that one of the kids will wake up because of a nightmare and ask to sleep with them.

Elias misses the days when he and Peter would go on long dates and weekend trips; catches himself thinking about those every once in a while, of how they would spare a day to stay in their room talking and getting each other off. They aren’t that young and horny anymore, but there’s still enough of that old spark that Elias will sometimes get turned on merely watching Peter doing mundane stuff, like doing the dishes.

To think that they didn’t get along at first. Elias chuckles whenever he remembers the first time they were together. Peter had been a cocky bastard, but Elias had been cockier and given Peter one hell of a show. Elias still has the eye tattoo on his stomach, but he had removed the nipple piercings once he’d started working. Peter had been so impressed by them, he had played and pulled on them with his teeth once they actually went on a proper date.

Elias lets out a nostalgic sigh.

“Everything alright?” Peter asks over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Elias breathes. “Fine. Just reminiscing about stuff.”

“Such as…?” Peter rinses a bowl of oatmeal.

“That time you used to be more of an insufferable arse.”

Peter snorts. “You’re one to talk, love.”

Elias can’t help a smile. “We turned out alright. Sometimes though, I miss those days.”

Peter’s disbelief is visible even from his back. “Really!? We used to be swamped all the time, and there was that professor, Jonah- Wouldn’t leave you alone. I think he wanted to — what was it he used to say — see you.”

Elias shudders with a disgusted noise and gets up. He circles Peter’s waist and hooks a chin over his shoulder, pressing their bodies flush enough that there’s no mistaking that he’s half-hard. Peter drops a spoon in the sink with a clatter.

“Oh, wow, hello there.”

Elias giggles. “I miss you,” he whispers. He gives Peter’s nape a slow, open mouthed kiss, causing the larger man to shiver.

“Elias…”

“I know, I know.” Elias pauses, buries his nose into Peter's neck, where his silver hair has grown past his ear. He smells so good. “I could take a day off tomorrow. We could ask Gertie to keep an eye on the boys over the weekend. She’s always delighted to see them.”

After the beach incident in which they had met, Gertrude Robinson had become a dear friend of the family. She and her husband (an old scholar with a booming voice and a gentle face called Jurgen) had a massive library and a collection of items from all over the world. The boys always returned home with strange facts about books and places of which neither Peter or Elias had ever heard. Gertrude also had a grandchild a year older than Martin, Jon, whom Martin had (at the tender age of seven) sworn to marry.

Peter thinks about it for a moment, but doesn’t sound too hopeful in his reply. “They’ll need me at work tomorrow. I already said I’d be there, and it could take a while.”

“Can’t always have it all...”

Peter turns around and holds Elias’s face to give him a kiss. Elias struggles at first because Peter’s hands are covered in suds, but eventually gives in. The kiss is slow and warm; if he isn't careful, Elias can easily get carried away with it. Peter’s growing beard is ticklish, but when it slides down his jaw and neck, Elias has to stifle a whimper.

“I’m sorry, love.”

Elias shakes his head. “It’s fine. I’ll survive.”

That’s not to say Elias’s body will just quit the yearning — it becomes quite self-evident when Peter pulls away and Elias is half-tempted to chase his lips.

But then one of the kids calls him and he needs to go. It's like that the whole day.

Elias only gets some blessed alone time with his husband before bed. Peter pulls him into a hug and they kiss until they have to stop before it gets too hot to ignore. Elias grabs Peter’s hand when it slides between them, because one thing will certainly lead to another.

“Pretty please?” Peter pouts. It looks outrageous on him and Elias barks out a laugh.

Peter smiles, but it fades into something else — something charged. They are kissing again before they know it, and it’s insane how well Peter fits between his legs. The weight of his larger body on top of him, pressing down where it feels so good, has Elias wrapping both legs around his waist and using them for leverage. Peter hums in approval.

At least, Elias is not alone in his lust. Peter is usually quieter about his wants and needs, but once he’s into it, he’s ready to go all the way. Perhaps Elias should’ve been more careful, because now he has to live with the knowledge that Peter is right there and that he wants it just as bad as Elias.

They are humping through their clothes and Elias is ready to make a mess of his pants just like that when there’s a yell from down the hall. Elias’s head snaps up and he all but tosses Peter off of him to leap up and grab his robes.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

“Is it Martin again,” Peter rubs his eyes tiredly, pulling a pillow over his clothed erection.

“Coming! Daddy is coming!” Elias yells back.

Afterwards, they cuddle in shared frustration until they fall asleep. When Elias wakes up the next morning, Peter’s boner is poking his arse, so he gives it a wistful little press. Peter groans and holds Elias there with an arm around his waist. Peter grinds up and Elias huffs into the pillow.

“Wanna finish what we started?”

“Be late for work,” Elias points out. Peter swears, but lets him go.

They’re out an hour later; Elias drops the kids off and heads to work. Heavy clouds of sleep deprivation and sexual frustration hang ominously above his head.

Thankfully, work is something he can lose himself in. He’s good at what he does and there’s something soothing about all those Excel sheets. Coupled with the steady hum of the AC, they almost make Elias forget his troubles.

But then he sees the flyer for this new jazz café that had opened a few months ago, where he had intended to take Peter on a date but never managed to make time, and his face falls. Damn, he misses his husband’s presence, his silly jokes and ridiculous sailor stories.

Lunch hour comes in a blink; Elias is poking a fork into his salad with an utter lack of enthusiasm when his phone chirps with an incoming message. He wipes his mouth and sees that it’s from Peter.

It’s a picture of Peter standing in front of a tall restroom mirror. He’s wearing the big old ratty coat he’d left with this morning, but it’s pulled halfway to the side to reveal Peter’s hand clutching the sizable girth of him through his grey slacks.

Elias chokes on lettuce.

What’s the meaning of this???

Been thinking of you. A lot. — is Peter’s swift reply.

Well, Elias has too, but not to this extent. Can I call you?

Peter calls him instead. “Hey.”

“Are you mad!? I’m in the middle of work!”

Peter laughs. “You talk as if you don’t have a cushy office all to yourself to play as you wish.”

“Yes, at least I can say that. You on the other hand, you’ve got a bloody crew swarming you every day.”

“I’m not on the ship right now. And there are stalls here.”

“You’re hiding in the loo?!”

“Had to. Wouldn’t stop thinking of you. Now, do you want to play?”

“You can’t be doing what I think you’re doing. What if someone comes in?”

There’s something hot and heavy about Peter's chuckle that makes Elias shudder. “A while ago, you’d be the first to say fuck it.”

“Well, apparently one of us has grown past that.”

“I bet you wouldn’t refuse if you could see how hard I am right now.”

It’s a bait. Elias knows it’s a cheap bait and that he’s gonna fall straight for it if he isn't careful. When he reaches down, he notices that he’s hard too. Shit.

“I’m not gonna do this. Bloody hell, not in the middle of work. Fucking Rosie could walk in. Did you know I have a reputation to maintain?” Elias pinches the bridge of his nose. “This can wait until we’re home.”

“We won’t have time then,” Peter replies. “And I miss you too, you know.”

Elias makes a pained little noise. “You have no idea how much I want you right now. But this will wait. We’ll figure it out.”

“How much? Show me.”

"Peter," Elias warns.

Peter gives it up with a breathy laugh. "Okay," he whispers. “See you at home. Love you.”

“You too.”

Apparently, Elias’ ability to stick to reason is intact even with his horny-addled brain. He lets out a deep exhale after the call is over.

The next ten minutes are spent willing his boner to go down by and focusing on work. It’s uncomfortable, but he manages. It gives him a headache for the rest of the day and much to think about — and even more to look forward to.

Unfortunately for both, Peter shoots him a message later on telling Elias that he will be home late and not to wait for him. The boys are disappointed, because it was film night and Peter had promised to watch Return of the King with them. Elias is sad, too; Peter had come back from three months at sea not a week ago, but again they have to be apart.

Elias helps the kids with homework and gets on a work call that drags on for an hour, which only serves to worsen his headache.

During dinner, Elias is taken aback by how observant his youngest is. Martin’s Daddy must be wearing his sourest look, for it prompts the boy to pat Elias’ hand (exactly how Peter does when someone’s upset) and tell him:

“Don’t be sad, Daddy. Dad will be home soon and then you can complain to him about work.”

Elias nearly chokes on food the second time that day. Tim chimes in.

“Yeah, dad. Don’t worry about it. The old man knows what he’s doing.” And without missing a beat, with those big brown eyes of his. “Can I play before bed?”

“Definitely not. You’ll wake up cranky tomorrow.” Tim pouts, tries again, but Elias’s word is final (even if he feels soft after their comforting words). “Thank you, boys. I know how much you look forward to movie night. I’m sorry it didn’t work.”

Tim shrugs, digging into his pasta. Martin is quick to come up with a solution.

“Can you read for us, daddy?”

That catches Tim’s attention. Elias crosses both hands over the table.

“Oh? What would you like me to read?”

Martin leaps out of the chair and thrusts a tomato-sauce covered spoon up in the air. “The adventures of the incredible Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag-End!” he roars.

Tim rolls his eyes.

It doesn’t take them long to sleep with Elias reading The Hobbit. Well, it doesn’t take Tim long to sleep (he’s heard this story countless times before and it's a favourite, even if now he says it's for babies) — Martin is paying close attention and interrupting Elias every now and again to ask questions. When the youngest finally drifts off, Elias tucks him in and puts the book back on the shelf.

Tim is almost as tall as Elias now, but Elias can still pick him up from Martin’s bed and carry him to his own bedroom. For someone who wanted to play video games and rolled his eyes at their book choice, his oldest fell asleep very swiftly.

Elias clears the dinner table, does the dishes and puts the rest of the food away. It’s a little past 10PM now and Peter is still not home. Elias only hopes nothing bad has happened (especially after today’s surprise).

Elias finally has a chance to shower and spends five minutes just letting the hot water spray massage his back. He considers touching himself — the awareness that he could use an orgasm and that now is the perfect time to achieve it is very present within him — but before he comes to a decision, he’s already stepped out of the bathroom.

Peter’s sleep t-shirt seems to eye him from the bed as Elias pats himself dry. Should he? After all, why not? He misses the old fool.

Elias pulls the t-shirt on and has to suppress a laugh at how silly he looks, greying brown curls plastered to his forehead and lean body looking too small in that tee — Peter is many sizes larger than him, so the item reaches halfway down his thighs. Elias pulls on some underwear and crawls into bed with a book. The t-shirt is so large that he has to keep adjusting it lest it falls below his shoulder.

For the first hour, Elias tries to read. He really, really does. But perhaps wearing Peter’s clothes hadn’t been his brightest idea. The item is soaked in Peter’s scent, which is positively distracting. Elias catches himself reading the same line three times and lets out a frustrated groan.

“Okay, fine! Fine, I’ll do it!”

Elias shoves the book onto the bedside table and ducks beneath the duvets, lying on his side. He’ll make this as quick as he can and then he’ll go the fuck to sleep.

He runs a hand down his chest, but it feels more perfunctory than pleasant. When it's Peter doing it, it has Elias shivering in no time. Elias closes his eyes and tries to relax, tries to think of how it feels when Peter rubs a rough palm over his nipples and kisses his belly until he squirms.

Elias has left the door open and his ears peeled to any sounds of little steps in the hallway, so it takes a while to concentrate on the ways his body is reacting.

Eventually though, it becomes easier — there have been no steps, no sounds but the soft little puffs of air that he’s letting out. One of his hands is rubbing a nipple through the t-shirt and the other is cupping his cock. Pleasure finally takes over when he presses that hand down his pelvis and a shiver runs up his body, arching his back.

Elias slips a hand under the waistband of his underwear and wraps it around his cock to pull back the skin. It’s getting hot and damp under the duvets, but Elias doesn’t plan to make this long. Just a bit more and he’ll come.

A twist of his wrist has him shuddering and letting out a breathy curse. Elias pulls the too-large shirt up to his nose and takes a big inhale. His mind is filled with Peter and he darts a tongue out for a taste, but gets none.

Still, he has had Peter in his mouth times enough to remember his taste. It makes Elias wet at the tip. He’s so close, so fucking close — but he’s also tempted to keep edging himself; keep thinking of all the things he wishes Peter would do to him. It’s been too fucking long, and he knows that if he doesn’t give his body what it wants every once in a while, it will just keep coming back to bother him.

But then again, the mess… And he’s so close, so, so close. Just a bit more, just drown out everything else.

Elias is so lost in his chase that doesn’t hear it when the front door clicks open; nor when a heavy coat is hung on the hallway pegs; doesn’t notice some of the lights being turned on and off, and is completely oblivious to the figure standing on the threshold and the socked steps that carry the man inside.

Elias only notices that Peter has arrived home when the duvet is gently pulled back and Peter’s smiling face pokes into his line of view — but by the time Peter has let out a soft “hey darling, what are you doing” Elias has already let out a blood-curdling scream and punched him in the face.

Peter falls flat on his bum with an expletive. “Jesus! What the fuck, Elias!”

Elias clutches his chest, breathing hard. “Oh- Oh Lord Jesus. My heart, my poor heart.” He turns to Peter with murder in his eyes. “What the hell were you thinking sneaking in like that?!”

Peter gets up, rubbing his sore bum. “I didn’t exactly try to sneak in, maybe you just didn’t hear me. I wasn’t particularly trying to be quiet. What the hell are you doing still up anyway?”

Elias ignores him. He snaps his head to the hallway. “Do you think the kids heard it?”

Peter shrugs, still sore.

“Get on!”

Peter grudgingly goes to check on the kids, but comes back shaking his head. Elias falls back into bed with a relieved sigh. Peter takes up a spot near the edge.

“What are you doing up? It’s way past midnight.”

Elias then remembers that his (now very much limp) dick is still out under the duvets. “Nothing much, I was just reading.”

“You were reading under the covers in the dark.”

Elias nods.

Peter isn’t convinced, but that gives way to a confused frown. “Hold on, is that my t-shirt?”

Elias looks down as if he hadn’t realised he had been wearing it. “Huh. I guess.”

Peter’s frown deepens. He touches the duvet. Elias clutches it and holds it down on reflex. Peter’s mouth opens in an accusing “oh!”

Peter can be very stubborn when he sets his mind upon something. This time, said something happens to be getting the covers out of the way.

Elias curls in on himself and burrows deeper into the duvet, but Peter (the cheap bastard that he is) resorts to tickling. Elias muffles an ugly laugh into the pillow. Peter is laughing too.

“Stop! Fuck, I’ll show you, stop!” Elias wheezes. Peter’s laughter dies off. He combs Elias’s damp hair backwards and kisses his cheek.

Elias sits up and pulls the duvet aside, feeling completely undignified. His cock is poking out above the underwear, but at least the t-shirt is covering it.

It’s enough for Peter to put two and two together.

“Were you masturbating?”

“No. Like I said, I was reading.”

Peter reaches for the hem of the shirt. Elias grabs his hand. “I said I was reading.”

Peter drops it, lets his hand fall to Elias’s thigh. A moment later, he gives it a squeeze. “Want some help?”

Elias narrows his eyes at him, then glances at the clock. Way, way past midnight.

The squeeze is back, travelling upwards. In spite of his better judgement, Elias’s legs fall open to give it more access and he sighs in defeat. So much for a steely resolve.

Peter slides a palm under the shirt but doesn’t get the item out of the way. Rather, he caresses Elias’s stomach and lower pelvis. Elias shivers deliciously; he’d been dreaming of this all day.

“You’ve been holding back a lot today,” Peter points out after Elias gets hard with just some light teasing. Peter hasn’t even touched his cock.

Elias wiggles to get Peter to touch him, slides down the bed. The invitation is clear enough, but Peter seems to be waiting for a verbal one. “I was being a sensible adult.”

Peter smiles. “Thought you’d like a bit of sexting. You used to love it back in uni.”

Elias had always been weak to Peter’s eyes, especially when they’re looking at him as if he’s something to be slowly savoured and then swallowed. Elias rolls his hips, staring at Peter’s hand on his inner thigh. The movement almost makes it touch his cock, but misses it for a few inches. Elias huffs in frustration.

“Thought you said you were going to help.”

“I can only help if you tell me what you want.”

Elias rolls his eyes at him. Peter waits happily.

“Touch me.”

“Where?”

“My cock.” Elias wants to punch him when Peter merely raises his eyebrows, unimpressed. “Touch my cock, please?”

If that doesn’t do it, Elias is getting a divorce. To his delight, it awakens something in Peter that makes his eyes go dark with lust.

“Fuck, yes. But it’s too dry- Where’s the-” Elias passes him the lube before Peter finishes the sentence. “Love you.”

Peter squirts some lube onto his palms and rubs them together. They’re cool when they touch Elias’s inner thighs and drag down, massaging the region and getting it all wet.

Elias sighs, eyes fluttering momentarily. He can’t help but roll his hips to ease some of the tension. He’s so hard and Peter is taking so long — but when he finally does it, Elias hisses through clenched teeth.

“Feels good, love?”

Elias bites his lower lip, chin tucked to his chest as he watches that big fist pumping wetly around his cock. Only the glistening head is visible, hot red and ready to shoot. Peter rubs a thumb under his frenulum and Elias sees stars.

“Ah, shit,” he sobs, grabbing fistfuls of the too large t-shirt and fucking into Peter’s fist, because the squeeze is so damn good.

Will Peter mind if Elias sniffs his shirt? Fuck it. Elias balls up some fabric and pulls it to his nose. The action doesn’t escape Peter; in fact, he seems entertained by it.

Elias notices his husband’s amusement only through half-lidded eyes, because every single part of his body feels like molasses right now.

“Look at you, ’s like you’re drunk in it.” Peter licks a finger and presses it up Elias’s perineum.

The pressure sends a thick dollop of pre-cum leaking down Elias’s cock. Elias’s eyes roll back into their sockets. Peter taunts him further.

“Want me to put my mouth on you or do you want something better to sniff on?”

“Fuck you and your dirty mouth.”

Peter laughs. “You can, baby. Always loved the way you shiver when you come down my throat.”

Elias points a weak finger towards the door. “Close that first.”

Peter goes and Elias hears the unmistakable sound of a lock falling into place. Peter sheds his shirt and trousers on the way back. Elias can see the outline of his cock against his underwear and makes grabby hands at it.

Peter chuckles and stands next to the headboard. “Can’t decide?”

Elias forgoes the shirt in favour of leaning over the edge and burying a face into Peter’s groin. He takes a deep inhale and mouths at it, dragging his tongue all the way up.

“Fuck,” he groans. “I’ve missed this.”

Peter moans above him and cradles his nape, pulling at the fine hairs there to make Elias shiver. Elias gives his own cock a few lazy pumps while his mouth is busy getting Peter’s underwear all damp.

Elias steals a glance at the digital clock again and whines. Peter asks him what’s wrong.

“I want to fuck you so bad right now, but look at the time.”

“I am looking. It’s working fine.”

Elias swats at him. “I’m serious!”

Peter lets go of Elias’s nape to cradle his face, guiding him upwards. Elias follows it, standing on his knees.

“I’ve bought Red Bull,” Peter confides, and that’s the most beautiful thing to ever come out of his mouth. Elias melts a little just then.

Peter grabs his arse and pulls him to himself. The feel of his underwear is rough against Elias’s cock, but Elias ruts into it. The hand on Elias’s face has now slid to wrap loosely around his neck. Elias pulls Peter’s underwear down and Peter wiggles out of them.

Peter’s cock hangs heavy where it’s nestled amid the thick silver hair on his groin. Elias’s mouth waters at the sight of it, but he eagerly presses them together. The hairs on Peter’s chest and lower abdomen feel coarse against his skin, but Elias loves every second of it. It will leave him tender and pink tomorrow, but he doesn’t care.

Peter pulls him into a kiss that is everything Elias has been craving all day — it doesn’t stop at his mouth, but drags down his jaw and neck, making him pliant. Peter moves his face from one side to the other to nip under his ear and suck bruises onto his collarbones.

“Got rubber?” Elias asks. Peter growls affirmatively.

It’s been a while, but they know how the other likes it. Elias is dripping wet with lube while Peter preps him. Elias would usually prefer his own fingers (much slimmer than Peter’s) at first, but right now he’s turned on enough that the slight burn of the stretch feels perfect. Elias lies on the pillows and lets Peter work his magic.

Peter kneels between his legs and fingers him as if he doesn’t have a care in the world, curling up his fingers to milk Elias’s cock. Elias arches his back and watches dollop after dollop of pre-cum leak from his tip.

“Peter, I swear- to God… If you make me come like this-”

Whatever Elias had thought of saying is completely wiped from his mind when Peter leans down and gives his cockhead a gentle suck, as easy as someone scooping some ice-cream with their tongue.

Elias swears at Peter, but he can’t do much else besides clench his hands and teeth and try to keep from coming. He was so close just now; only a brief touch of Peter’s tongue and his cock is now throbbing, legs shaking so hard he has to suck in his stomach to not orgasm right then and there.

“It would be a sight to behold. You are a sight to behold.”

“Cut the crap, please cut the crap and just fuck me. Fuck, I’m so hard it hurts, you bastard.”

“Then come, love.”

“I don’t wanna come without you inside me.”

Elias should be embarrassed to find that his eyes are glistening with moisture. These can’t be tears. He refuses to believe that he’s crying during sex.

Peter wipes the corner of his eye, boops Elias’s nose with his own and gives him a gentle peck.

“Okay,” Peter whispers.

Peter rolls condoms on himself and Elias, then arranges a pillow under Elias to prop him up and slides home. The size of him fills Elias up so good, so perfect — all the way down to those wiry silver curls. Sure, topping Peter also felt brilliant — but if he’s true to himself, Elias rather likes it up the arse.

They fall into a nice rhythm — whispering disconnected praises and curses. Elias keeps a hand on the headboard for leverage, rolling his hips to meet Peter’s own, re-learning where it feels good. He reminds himself that this is supposed to be quick, just a bit of rough friction before they can’t hold it anymore.

But feeling Peter’s hand clutching his waist, relishing in the delicious push and pull, seeing Peter’s fuzzy pecs flex with the easy effort of taking him — it all has Elias clenching around Peter’s cock and reaching out to trace the lines of his chest.

“Fuck, I should be telling you to go faster.”

“Do you want to go faster?”

“No… I want to keep taking your cock until sunrise.”

“I’m afraid we’ll have to stop at some point for rest, but if you’re up to it, I’m all yours.”

Elias smiles, but his eyebrows twitch when Peter finds that spot and fucks into him, pressing right up against it.

“You see I want that, but when you do this… I want you to leave me all sore.”

“You’re a man of many wishes.”

Elias grins. “Think you can answer them?”

Peter pats his leg. “On your hands and knees, then.”

Arse up in the air, Elias stifles a laugh when Peter squirts more lube onto his hole and drags his cock over it.

Peter pushes back in with a smile. “What is it?”

“Just remembered something. When we first-” Elias hisses when Peter spreads his legs further and angles his thrusts just right. “Yeah, right there. Fuck… When we first had sex. I couldn’t believe you were just bringing people to your room and never doing this to them.”

Peter holds his hips like his hands belong there, finally giving it to him hard and fast. Elias has to clutch the sheets, but damn, that’s more like it. The t-shirt has balled up near his face and he keeps breathing in Peter’s scent.

“Uh- yeah. Hah, that was a long time ago. Is this OK, love?”

Elias nods. “Yeah. Bit rougher would be even nicer though.”

Peter grunts and his hands slide upwards. “Don’t want to hurt you, but if you say you can take it...”

Elias’s waist used to be so lean that Peter’s fingertips almost touched circling around it. Now that Elias is a bit better padded, they grab his flesh with a bit of loving violence while Peter ruts into him. Elias prays that this million pound house has thick enough walls that the noise of skin on skin won’t bleed out.

Elias wraps a loose hand around his cock, but that mere touch is enough to bring him closer to the edge. The fact that he feels so wonderfully used for Peter’s pleasure also does things to his head, because every grunt of Peter’s feels like a small victory.

Peter continues, fondly. “You used to be so fucking shameless. I’m still sad you had to remove the nip piercings.”

“It was easier- Oh, oh! Yes, just like that!” Elias presses his face into the bed, panting open-mouthed against the mattress. “It was easier- Easier,” he tries to continue, but Peter is fucking him so good that he can’t complete his line of thought.

“...that way?” Peter supplies.

Elias nods. He feels half out of it already. “I think- Gonna come. S-so good...”

Peter’s approving hum is followed by him dropping part of his weight onto Elias’s back, which forces Elias flat into the mattress. Elias gasps, loud and breathless and more in love with Peter than ever before. His husband knows that he’s a sucker for a bit of choking and is giving him exactly what he needs.

Peter thrusts harder, deeper, and it only takes a moment of Elias to come — the pressure and the friction too good to resist. Peter has to wrap a hand over his mouth to quieten his moaning. Elias shudders with the aftershocks, Peter’s still moving inside him almost too much to bear.

“God, you squeeze me so good every time,” Peter breathes into his nape. “I’ve missed this.”

Elias can’t breathe; tears gather freely on the corners of his eyes, but Peter doesn’t get off until he comes, too — it feels like orgasm drags on forever in an agonised bliss.

Elias shivers when Peter pulls out. It always gets a bit dry towards the end, but the burn and the stretch leave Elias tingly and sated — and now, completely boneless.

Peter eases him onto his side and removes the now damp t-shirt, chucking it aside; he then ties off both their condoms. The one that Elias has been wearing has almost slipped off; his flaccid cock now covered in spunk. Peter kneels between his legs and takes him into his mouth, causing Elias to seize with oversensitivity and nearly pull off chunks of Peter’s hair.

Peter pulls off of him with a wet pop, looking like the cat that got the cream. Elias sags and drapes an arm over his head, damp chest going up and down.

“Feeling better?” Peter asks. He caresses Elias’s thighs gently, barely even there. It makes pleasant goosebumps rise on Elias’s skin.

“God, you’ve ruined me…” Elias croaks. “You’ve fucked my brains out, Mr. Lukas.”

Peter chuckles. “Good.” He kisses Elias’s knee, his belly, his chest. Elias buries his fingers into his hair. “Gonna get something to clean you up.”

“Wait, just. Just stay like this for a bit.”

“Feeling like some post-coital cuddling, Mr. Bouchard?”

“Ugh,” Elias untangles his fingers from his perfect silver hair. “Now you’ve ruined it. Just go.”

Peter gives a rumbling chuckle that resounds through Elias’s chest. “No, thinking about it, I rather like it here. I get to see all your freckles.”

“Hm. Have you finally managed to count how many of them there are?”

“Nope,” Peter kisses his stomach, over the Eye tattoo. “But I’m still on it!”

Elias yawns. “Good- Good luck.”

“Gee, I really ought to get something to clean you up. At this rate you’ll end up sleeping.”

Elias snorts with his eyes closed. “Already am.”

Peter kisses his nose and leaves him be. When Elias wakes up the next day, he notices three things: one, Peter actually did give him a wipe down; two, he is very much aware of all the sleep he didn’t get last night; and three, he’s got an easy smile on for the rest of the day that he can’t deny.

[stoppingby]

Any Reylo fic recs?

i’ve actually wanted to do a big fic rec for a while, so this is the perfect opportunity! 

i’ve gathered a list of classic tropes and tried to pick one or two favorites for each! this is by no means a comprehensive list, and if you guys like this, i would be happy to do another edition later on! these are all mostly fluffy as that’s what i usually prefer, but as with most reylo fics there is a lot of explicit content, so please mind the ratings!

without further ado, i present...

stoppingby’s first reylo fic rec: tropey favorites!

Arranged marriage? And Closer Still Is Never Enough - lovefrompluto (15K, E). sweet, tender & caring prince ben. rey is special, and he knows that. reminds me why i love fanfic - watching them fall in love a million different ways.

Best friends-to-lovers? i’ve been in love with you for ages (and i can’t seem to get it right) - akosmia (10K, T). when who you want is right under your nose, and not only can they give you everything you want, they want to. ben cares for rey without hope or agenda. 

Bleed Me Dry, I Don’t Mind - AttackoftheDarkCurses (12K, E). best friends to lovers from two perspectives. a little growing up together, a little university AU. they slip into love without even realizing.

Canonverse? chase all your cares away - LovesBitca8 (4K, E). ben defects to the resistance. rey loves his smile and is determined to get one out of him. 

Coffee shop? maybe i just wanna be yours - akosmia (13K, T). ben compulsively offers favors to rey’s friends. in return, they meddle. it’s a 5+1 (i am obsessed with those as you will come to find out).

Emotional hurt/comfort? thrilled by the still of your hand - akosmia (9K, T). canondivergent. ben is touch starved after… everything. rey helps. i cried multiple times, and i loved it.

Serotonin and Dopamine - pontmercy44 (28K, E). this is so unique. very realistic in the way that it shows the work that goes into a relationship. i won’t give away too much, but mental heath issues are integral to the plot, so be forewarned. 

Enemies-to-lovers? Left Handed Kisses - Ever-so-reylo (18K, E). a reylo classic. assistant district attorney vs criminal defense lawyer. hatefucking turns into something more.

Epistolary (including forms of communication)? Hanging on the Telephone - jeeno2 (11K, E). rey gets a sext from a wrong number. sure, she should ignore it and move on. but where’s the fun in that?

our love was meant to be (my love came back to me)  - BensCalligraphySet (3K, T). in this life, ben finds letters in a bottle from someone who seemed to know him in a previous one. the galaxy gives them another chance. 

Fake dating? Let Me Dream, Let Me Stay - Melusine11 (38K, E). rey backs herself into a lie and asks her coworker kylo to pretend to be her boyfriend at rose and finn’s wedding. they roadtrip, they share a bed, they eat at a punny restaurant. so much fun!

Roommates? Closer to Fine - jeeno2 (15K, E). pregnant rey needs a roommate and moves in with medical student ben. there’s a lot to be scared about, but they’re not alone. 

Someone You Love(d) - AttackoftheDarkCurses (39K, E). rey and prince!ben are college roommates. they end up spending break together with leia, han, breha, and padme. they claim to hate each other and misunderstandings ensue. so many tropes i can’t even list them. 

Flower shop/tattoo parlor? alderaan places - nymja (5K, T). a classic take on a classic trope. it’s valentine’s day!

Friends with benefits? Making Love Out of Nothing At All - LoveofEscapism (4K, E). ben will do anything rey asks. so hot, but full of emotion. 

Two to Tango - crossingwinter (6K, E). i love this one. absolutely nails the heart wrenching emotion of knowing you’ve made a mistake in the moment before you fix it.

Funny? First Order IT, Can I Get Your User ID? - krossartist (14K, T). witty banter and childish name calling with a small touch of hurt/comfort. adorable!

Harry Potter AU? the water smells like you - shruggyben (3K, G). every ship needs an HP ‘verse amortentia fic! feat. professor leia organa.

High school? The Buddy List - violethoure666 (23K, E). since reading it a few weeks ago, this has quickly become one of my favorites! if you miss the aughts this one's for you! AIM messenger drives the story. 

Medieval/Royalty? Tangled, but Unbroken - AttackoftheDarkCurses (20K, M). growing up together, star-crossed lovers, alderaanian hair braiding - what more could you want? my fave tag on this: uncle luke is a reylo.

Neighbors? Flux & Solder - angharabbit (23K, E). another one of my all time favorites. new neighbors ben and rey help each other with trauma. feels like a rainy day from the thunder through the rainbow. make sure you read the tags before reading this incredible work!

Office romance? Minus 1 - Ever-so-reylo (5K, E). rey sends a text to the wrong office IM number. rey doesn’t know who she’s texting, but friendship and… more develops.

keep calm and let HR handle it - hi_raeth (11K, T). another 5+1! ben is the CEO and rey is the HR director. coworkers to confidantes to lovers. super sweet.

Oneshot? spring will come again - prncesselene (8K, M). over the course of a year, rey’s life changes completely as she renovates padme amidala’s old greenhouse. 

Only one bed? under thy own life’s key - galvanator (23K, E). sexy with great emotional depth, but it’s the sequel trilogy gang that makes this stand out in the trope! makes me wish we got a post-TROS everyone-lives sitcom.

Romcom-inspired? if you’re ready comic get it - violethoure666 (28K, E). if You’ve Got Mail was with tumblr mutuals and a comic book store. 

We Never Met - KyloTrashForever (3K, E). that scene in When Harry Met Sally where the older couple talks about meeting in the elevator. what happens when two people who are constantly just missing each other finally meet?

Slow burn? My Heart Always Belonged To You - JGoose13 (52K, E). Persuasion AU! reylo + jane austen = magic. 

Soulmates? wholly to be a fool - bigfootsflannel (9K, T). when your soulmate confesses their love, their words appear on your arm. ben makes a drunken confession.

Stuck/stranded together? a place to go - delia-pavorum (52K, E). rey and ben go looking for solitude in luke’s cabin. they don’t get off on the best foot before getting snowed in. sickfic (which i think there is far too little of in reylo fanfic)! beautiful and warm.

University/college? Sociology of Sexuality - Celia_and (4K, E). ben is that just-playing-devil’s-advocate kid in class that we all have to put up with. y’all this is so hot. if this happened in my real life, i think i would never recover.

Work-in-progress? flesh stays no farther reason - galvanator (20K, E). i drop EVERYTHING when this updates! ben and rey are from completely different circumstances, but that doesn’t stop a hookup from turning into something more. i feel like this fic gets their dynamic so right, and i am anxiously awaiting the conclusion in two chapters!

My comfort fic? bloom (you fill my lungs with sweetness, you fill my head with you) - akosmia (12K, T). i’ve read this again and again and i don’t plan on stopping. blind bestselling author ben solo needs a scribe. rey gets the job. there is cooking, there is domesticity, there are overwhelming emotions. my go-to. 

as i’ve said before, akosmia (@kylorensx) is my all time favorite fanfic author. the fact that we are mutuals blows my mind daily. please please go read all of her stuff. you won’t regret it!

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #391

“if you wanna soar with vultures, you’ll have to swallow crow”

Have you ever been to Australia? No. I want to visit a friend there, but honestly, Australia scares me too much lmao. That place is like, the Hard mode in life. Who was the last person you know to have a birthday? My sister's husband just had his. Are you wearing a necklace? If so, describe it. No. Do you know anyone who is left-handed? My best fren. Ever wear out a CD? What was it? Haha, yeah... I caused a few scratches on Ozzy's Black Rain, as well as one more of his, where the album name is surprisingly evading me. What’s your favorite card game? Magic: The Gathering. What’s your favorite fast food meal? Burgers or chicken tenders are usually my go-to, depending on the place. Where is the best restaurant you’ve ever eaten in at? The Cheesecake Factory. @_@ Lamb chops or pork chops? I've actually never tried lamb chops before, but I've always thought they look yummy. If you HAD to pick ONE song to listen to for the rest of your life, and that would be the only song you ever heard, what would it be? "Life Won't Wait" by Ozzy Osbourne, probably. It's very motivating. Ever heard of Shinedown? Yeah, I like 'em. They're one of Dad's faves. What size is your bed? Queen. What is the first meal you remember eating? Hell if I know. What was the first movie you ever saw? I also don't remember. What percentile of your class were you in? The top. Can you name every place you’ve ever had sex? I probably could, but I'm not going to. What forms of birth control have you used? The pill and also just not having a sex life lmao. Do you use sponges or dishcloths when doing the dishes? A sponge. What’s your favorite song on the top twenty right now? I have zero clue what's in the top twenty. Ever punched a wall? No. What was the last bug you killed and what did you use? An ant in the house. My fingers. Ever get pulled over by the cops and get away without a ticket? I've never been pulled over. What was your first legal alcoholic drink? A margarita, I think? What’s the most expensive things your parents ever bought you? Probably this laptop. What’s the most expensive thing you’ve bought? My snake. Or my most recent tattoo, idr. What is your favorite cover song? I think Disturbed's "Sound of Silence" is unbeatable as a cover. Well, or Johnny Cash's "Hurt." Both SLAUGHTER the originals. Did you ever drop out of school? College, three times. Ever raise a child that wasn’t your own for more than 3 months? No. Strangest medical procedure ever performed on you? Considering the location, having a pilonidal cyst drained by pushing on it. Jesus FUCKING Christ it hurt so goddamn bad. Does the place you work have music playing? What sort? I don’t have a job. Do you use Windows, Mac, Linux, or something else entirely? Windows. Do you cut tags out of clothing so they don’t itch and bother you? Yes. How many times a year do you go on vacation? Zero, generally. What is your favorite time period in history to learn about? The Holocaust. What’s the saddest report you have ever seen on the news? *shrug* I don't watch the news. In your honest opinion, what is the scariest sea creature you know? Putting aside my illogical fear of whale sharks, probably giant squid. Like no thank u. What superpower do you think would be the most handy in times of trouble? Teleportation. Do you believe there is just one love for everyone, or…? No. There are WAY too many people in the world for that. Plus, you're talking to a person who has been in love with two different individuals, and both were perfectly valid feelings. Why are you best friends with your best friend? She's just simply amazing. Strong, funny, intelligent, caring, supportive, loyal... She's, again, amazing. Do you world peace is truly a possibility in the future? Realistically, no. But it's nice to imagine. Pretend you are a really good cook, what meal would you make? *shrug* It would depend on what I wanted to eat. What do you think of when you look at the stars? Just the vastness of everything, and I wonder what it's like up there in outer space. If a turtle doesn’t have a shell, is he homeless or naked? Dead? Their shells are part of their actual skeletal structure. What’s one thing you feel you must do in your life before it ends? Just... feel like I did something. What Disney princess are you most like? Personality-wise, I mean. Maybe Belle? To be totally honest, I don't really remember the details of most of their personalities. What do you think is the most important thing in this life is? Love. Do you use any acne medication? Not anymore. Have you ever tried to learn another language? How did it go? I took Latin for one semester, and it was hard as FUCK. I quickly changed to German next semester and did that for all four available classes. Do you still have a landline phone in your home? No. Throughout a typical week, which places are you likely to go? I go to the TMS therapy office every weekday, and I might ride with my mom to pick up groceries or something. How often do you use your webcam, if you even have one that is? Never anymore because my mic doesn't work on this laptop, so there's no reason to. Do you have a lock number or pattern for your phone? Neither, actually. What was the last thing you bought from a liquor store? Mom bought a nice bottle of some pink lemonade Smirnoff the other day for us to try, but she left it at my sister's. ;-; It looked soooo good. Is there any cereal in your house? What kind? Yeah. Mom got some Honey Nut Cheerios and Reese's Puffs. What's the most number of people you've ever lived with? Excluding myself, I wanna say five. Do you celebrate St. Patrick's Day? No. Do you have any pets? How long have you had them? I've had Venus forrrr... I want to say four years, and Roman for two, I think. What's your favourite kind of cheese? American. Have you danced in the rain? No. Who is your favorite person to text? Sara. What’s your favorite brand of jeans? I haven't worn jeans in many years. Do you enjoy Mario games? Not especially. Mario Kart is fun, though. What’s your favorite online game? World of Warcraft. Have you ever been hit with a ball in gym class? Yes. That shit hurts. Who was last to cook for you? My mom. Would you ever wish to explore a cave? YES!!!!! You see the person you fell hardest for. What do you do? Freeze, physically and mentally. Have you ever ridden in a car with someone who was high? Yes, because I was afraid to say no. Did you ever date the last person you kissed? Yes. Have you ever held a snake? Plenty of times. How often do you have friends over to your house? Never. Have you ever had a boss who acted unprofessionally? No. Who was the last person who cried around you? Why did they start crying? Was it unexpected? My mom, because she always feels unwanted at Ashley's house. It wasn't unexpected, honestly. She cries a lot in the car when she leaves my sister's house, honestly. It's heartbreaking. Do you have any exercises you do everyday? No. :/ Are you more of a dog or cat person? I'm a cat person. That only becomes more apparent with time, really. Have you ever had a dream of stabbing someone? I probably have, given I've had nightmares of strangling someone, punching and slapping people... all kinds of stuff. My nightmares are so fucking violent and I hate it. Would you ever have a bird as a pet? No. Have you ever had to speak at a funeral? No. Do you know someone who’s been cremated? My dog, as well as my younger sister's old pup. And Mom's. What is your favorite animated movie? The Lion King. Did your grandparents teach you anything? To not be horrendously old-fashioned and to never have kids, yes. Congrats, Grandma, I took both things to heart. Do you want/have a Bachelor's degree? No. Are you into superheroes? Who's your favourite? Not massively, no. I like Deadpool (yeah, yeah, antihero, whatever) and Spider-Man. Have you ever played Cards Against Humanity? Did you like it? Yes to both. Have you ever played a drinking game? Which ones? I don't think so. Did you ever play Neopets when you were younger? Yes, I LOVED them. Sometimes I'm still tempted to make a new account, I shit you not, lol. Have you ever been to Mexico? No. Have your parents ever worked in medicine? My mom was a pharmacy technician or some title like that for a long time. Is there anything unusual about your house? I don't think so? How many serious relationships have you been in? Two. Do you listen to Rise Against? I only know "Re-education (Through Labor)," but I LOVE that song. When was the last time you congratulated someone? It was probably something on Facebook, but idr. Have you ever taken care of a newborn baby? Go no, I could never. How old were you when you got your ears pierced? I don't remember my age, but old enough where I did it of my own volition. Do you snore when you sleep? No. Surprising for someone with sleep apnea as horrendous as mine. What was the last type of burger you ate? I had a McDouble from McDonald's a few nights ago.

[temperancejones]

Some Kind of Curse - Chapter Three

Kris and Steve spend a few hours with Duke and the chief of police arranging their father's funeral for the next morning. They decide to bury him at punchbowl, as he was a veteran, and many people on the island considered him a hero for being such a great cop. Steve and Kris ultimately decide that they will put up a plaque for him at the family mausoleum next to his wife and parents, who all have a plaque there too. Oddly enough, the only McGarrett body buried there is of Jean, the widowed wife of Ensign Steven McGarrett, who died in the Pearl Harbour attacks. Once the meeting is over and everything is set in stone (thankfully HPD was already mostly done with their funeral plans for their father, because they knew that Steve and Kris were overseas at the time of his death), Steve and Kris head back to their hotel to finally get out of their uniforms and relax for the night. They end up grabbing a bite to eat again at the restaurant and have a few beers to unwind before heading back to their room for the night. During dinner, Steve steps out to make a phone call to Mary to inform her of their father's death, and to ask her to come to the funeral. Mary, who essentially grew up without any parents (she was only ten when their mom died and their father sent them away), said she would think about it, and then hung up.

The next morning, Kris find herself reluctant to get out of her bed after a night of minimal sleep. Her mind was racing all night, just trying not to think about her father's funeral in a few hours, and how miserable it truly is to bury both of your parents before the age of fourty. Neither of her parents will ever be able to be grandparents if Kris or her siblings have any kids down the road, and they will never get to see how their kids have grown up in so many ways. Deep down, it breaks Kris' heart to think about, but she knows that it is something that is completely out of her control. All she can do now is take care of her siblings and make sure that they keep the memory of their parents alive and (hopefully) make them proud.

Kris continues to lie in bed for the next little while, trying to muster up all the power and courage in her to get up while Steve goes out for a run to try and clear his mind. Kris would love to go with him, but she can't risk popping her stitches quite yet. Half an hour into Steve's run, Kris hauls her ass out of bed and trudges into the bathroom to freshen up a little bit and make herself look presentable for the funeral today. After washing her face, Kris looks at herself in the mirror for the first time in a while. Her brown hair that was recently cut (by Steve during a little bit of off time on base) into a choppy bob to stay out of her face during missions, and be as low maintenance as possible, is now a mess from her restless (lack of) sleep. She notices a few more wrinkles on her forehead and around her eyes- something that comes with aging and stress, she assumes. But her eyes... oh boy her eyes. Specifically, the bags under her sad, blue eyes that prove she hasn't slept in a while look rather daunting. If she had any makeup right now, she sure as hell would be using it to make her look like she was a living human being and not an exhausted person who probably hasn't had a good night's sleep in the last seventeen years of her life. Taking off her pyjama shirt, she sighs and takes a closer look at the rest of her body. Her chest is now littered with black and blue bruises from the bullets she took in her vest yesterday- she doesn't dare to touch them because she knows that it will hurt like a bitch. Kris sighs and looks at her left shoulder, which is still dressed in a white bandage that's probably due for a change. She carefully takes off the dressing and winces as she touches the tender skin around her bullet wound. From there, she grabs some saline, a new dressing and some medical tape from her medkit, then applies a new dressing, thinking about how this wound is going to lead to yet another scar on her body. Throughout her career in the Navy and Military, Kris' body has slowly begun to be covered in scars from bullet wounds, shrapnel, cuts, broken bones and the occasional surgery. It's just one of the joys of being on the front lines with the men and going out on dangerous missions all the time; Steve has plenty of scars and aches too from it. One thing that Kris loves about her body though, is her tattoos. Each upper arm has a tattoo, and she loves to look at them whenever she gets the chance. Her left arm has a beautiful custom Navy piece that she got with Steve when they graduated from the academy, and her right arm has a black and white mandala with some thick black stripes near her elbow. Kris then gets changed into a new pair of underwear and a sports bra, and washes her face, hoping it makes her look and feel less tired.

A knock on the bathroom door snaps Kris out of her thoughts. It's Steve, and he's back from his run, by the sound of it. "Hey, if you're done lookin' at yourself in the mirror, I brought some coffee for us. And maybe some cocoa puffs from the Liliha Bakery." Steve says loudly, which makes' Kris smile. She dries off her face and opens the door, now poking her head out of it. "Cocoa puffs? Gee, I hope you bought something for yourself, because if you think you're getting any of them, you're dead wrong. Gimme a sec." Kris grins, wiggling her eyebrows at Steve, who is putting the coffees down on the table, now chuckling at his twin who seriously hasn't changed at all since they were kids.

Kris throws her pyjama shorts back on and exits the bathroom, making a beeline for the coffee and cocoa puffs. Steve hands her a coffee, and then opens up the bag of cocoa puffs. Before Steve can even think about grabbing a cocoa puff for himself, Kris' hand is already on one, apparently quite eager to eat it. Steve can't help but laugh at his sister's antics; this was something she has done since they were little kids... she loves the cocoa puffs from Liliha, and would fight tooth and nail for one. Every Sunday, their mom would get up early and grab fresh cocoa puffs for the entire family to have, and they would usually sit outside and have them for breakfast as a family. From there, Steve and Kris eat their breakfast in silence, not really wanting to discuss what is going to be happening today, because frankly, it's something that they both don't want to think about. Once they're all finished, Steve heads into the bathroom to take a quick shower after his run, and then they both put their dress uniforms once again.

The funeral is a sombre affair. Many HPD officers come up to Steve and Kris and offer their condolences, and Steve and Kris answer them on autopilot, thanking them. Before their father's casket is lowered into the ground, Kris is handed the flag that was rested on top of it, which made her breath catch in her throat. Steve put a hand on her back in confidence and placed another on the flag as they said one last goodbye to their father. Kris found herself on autopilot for the entirety of the service, as it was something that she didn't really want to remember or experience ever again. Losing one parent was hard enough, but now that both were gone, and her father was murdered because of something that her and Steve were working on was something that was simply incomprehensible. The 'what if we hadn't taken on the mission of tracking down the Hesse brothers' made Kris feel sick to her stomach to think about- because if they hadn't, John McGarrett would still be alive today, and his children wouldn't be orphans.

When Kris comes back to reality, her and Steve are the only ones left at the cemetery. Kris sighs and crosses herself, whispering a quiet goodbye to her father, and then begins to walk away. She pats Steve on the back, and together they head back to the SUV, and drive back to the hotel in silence. They can mourn for their father once they catch Hesse. He needs to pay for what he did, and they need to get a little bit of revenge. But, they can't do that if their minds are occupied with mourning and emotions, so for now, they will be pushed back until they know that justice has been served to Hesse. Steve and Kris know that they can't bring their father back, but the least they can do is catch his killer and make sure he spends the rest of his life in prison for his actions and all of the pain he has caused.

When Steve and Kris get back to the hotel, they get changed out of their uniforms and go over their mission plan once more; sneak in the house through the back door once the coast is clear, and then begin to investigate the house. They need to see if Hesse left any evidence behind, and then they need to track down the tiger and the champ tool box to try and figure out why their father mentioned them. Maybe they would find out why their father apologized for lying to them moments before his death as well. Before they leave the hotel room, they make sure to grab their Navy ID's and their service weapons just to be safe; they don't know if Hesse is lurking around the house, just waiting for them to fall into his trap or something like that. It makes Kris nervous to think about going to the house, but she knows that it is something that needs to be done so they can get some real answers.

Thankfully, when they arrive at the house, nobody else is there. They decide to park the truck down the street and enter the house through the back door, just to make sure that they aren't seen by anyone in the neighbourhood, or by any HPD members who may be lurking around the house.

Seeing her childhood home for the first time in seventeen years is an odd feeling to Kris. She would feel relieved to be at home under any other circumstance, but today, it makes her feel a little sick to her stomach. For some reason, Kris can't think of any happy memories regarding this house- all she can think of all the pain she has felt here throughout her life; this is where she lost both parents. In the back of her mind, she wishes this house would just burn down so all of the bad feelings end emotions could be forgotten along with it, but at the same time, this house is all that Kris and her siblings have left of their parents, and she simply cannot bear to part ways with them entirely yet.

Taking a deep breath, Kris follows Steve into the house. They enter into the dining room, which also doubled as their dad's office. Kris remembers sneaking into the kitchen for a glass of water late at night and seeing her father doubled over case files, always working hard, even at home. But now, instead of seeing her father sitting at the desk and deep into his work, there are evidence markers, pools of blood and blood spatter on the walls. Before Kris can get too emotional about the sight before her, she tucks it into the back of her mind and gets to work. First, she needs to find the tiger that she made for her father- hopefully there are some answers in it.

Steve makes a beeline for the desk, noticing a lack of dust right in the middle of it, perfectly shaped like a computer. Kris can essentially see the gears turning in his head as he remembers that their father hated computers and refused to buy one. Steve then looks around for something and manages to grab a print next to the computer spot, thanks to some trusty wheel lube that their father had tucked away in the desk. Steve snaps a picture of it to run once they leave the house, and then continues to look around the room for more evidence left behind by Hesse and perhaps an accomplice, based on a bloody boot print left behind that doesn't match up to Hesse's custom shoes.

It takes a few moments, but Kris manages to find the tiger along the wall behind her father's desk. She quickly moves to it and picks it up, chuckling a little bit. This tiger was one of the ugliest things Kris has ever seen or made, and its impossible to tell that it even is a tiger- it's lumpy and poorly painted, but alas, it is something that her father had cherished from the moment she gave it to him, which is something she will always appreciate.

"Got the tiger. Let's go find the box." Kris tells Steve, who nods, and follows her out of the office, and to the garage, which is down the hallway and to the right. "Looks like Hesse had an accomplice. That's probably how they managed to ambush us. Looks like there was a computer here, too." Steve explains, pushing open the door to the garage, revealing their father's beloved mercury marquis, exactly how they left it seventeen years ago.

"So, Hesse and his accomplice managed to track our calls... son of a bitch." Kris mutters to herself, now understanding how those helicopters appeared out of nowhere and attacked their convoy in Korea. She shuts the door behind her and walks to the front of the marquis. Steve pulls off the cover on the car and lets out a low whistle, running his hands along the front of it. "Never thought we'd see this beauty again. I'm glad dad could never part with it." He grins, patting the hood of it lightly.

Kris smiles, now walking around the car to look at it entirely. "Dad sure had taste in cars. God, I missed this piece of junk. It needs so much work." She tells her brother, who only smiles in reply. Their father had bought this car when Steve and Kris were fifteen, and they were all working on it together so that Steve and Kris could drive it once they turned sixteen and got their own licences. But that never got to happen, as life got in the way. Kris, Steve and Mary were all sent away to the mainland before the car was completely fixed up, so it must have sat in here for the last seventeen years. Kris sighs, and looks inside the car, admiring the beautiful leather seats when she spots something along the far wall of the garage.

The red Champ toolbox.

Kris calls Steve and directs him to the box, and then makes her way over to it too.

With a bit of hesitation, mostly because he doesn't know what to expect inside this box, Steve unlatches the lid and pops it open, furrowing his brows at the odd contents inside it.

Kris notices the contents too and sets down the tiger next to the toolbox and reaches for a black tape recorder sitting on top of a bunch of old photographs. She looks it over, and then hits the play button, revealing an old recording from their father. Her heart sinks to her stomach when she hears her father's voice for the first time since his death, and immediately turns it off, not wanting to hear anymore of it right now. She places the tape recorder back in the box, and looks over at Steve, who is currently looking at the photographs, looking rather shocked. Before Steve can say anything, there is a distant slam in the house, which immediately sends Steve and Kris into defence mode. Steve quickly puts the photographs back into the box and shuts it. Kris hurries to get some cover behind the car and hopefully get the intruder, most likely Hesse with a surprise ambush. She slides her gun out of the holster on her right hip and looks over at Steve, who motions to the door to the house that they entered the garage from. Kris nods at him, understanding that someone is about to come through it.

And sure enough, someone does. A man, kris presumes by his loud voice, who is currently yelling orders at Steve, as they both have their guns pointed at each other. They manage to come to a truce and lower their weapons to show their ID at each other once the intruder introduces himself as Detective Danny Williams; the haole that HPD put on their father's case.

Once Steve and the Detective show their ID's to each other and put their weapons away, Steve tells Kris to come out. She slides her gun back in her holster and slowly stands up with her hands in the air, so the detective does not accidentally shoot her, and finally gets a good look at the loud voice she heard yelling at Steve.

Detective Williams is undoubtedly stunning.

This is going to be a big problem, Kris thinks to herself.

[bananapie99]

Stained Skin

Steve Rogers x Reader

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

It’s been three weeks since Steve and a couple other teammates of his left on their current mission. While you loved your boyfriend’s heroism, it was hard for you to spend that much time away from him. Luckily, you still had your two closest friends, Natasha and Bucky to keep you company until Steve’s arrival home. After the first five days of the mission had come and gone, you began sulking around the compound, barely leaving Steve’s room, which you had just moved into. After two weeks of him being gone, Natasha and Bucky decided they couldn’t watch you in this state anymore and planed a fun night in for the three of you. Being your best friends, they knew exactly what you needed…pizza, gummy bears, and a movie night.

It was 5 o’clock in the evening on Friday when you heard a knock on the door to Steve’s room. You put your book down and stood up, readjusting Steve’s shirt you had been wearing, and walk to the door. Opening it up, you see your two friends, dressed in pajamas, hands full of dinner, snacks and DVDs. You looked at the two of them, slightly confused.

“Did I forget about plans we made…?”

“No silly,” Nat replied. “Bucky and I are tired of seeing you mope around, so we decided a night in is exactly what you need to cheer you up a bit.”

Your heart swelled with love for your two friends, and you stepped out of the way so they could enter. You all made a beeline for the bed, Bucky stopping to put in one of the movies. You all found your spot on the bed and dug into the pizza.

After three movies, you guys decided to call it quits. Your stomachs hurt from all the food and your faces hurt from all the laughing. Bucky and Natasha stood up to leave, but you asked Natasha if she’d stay and sleep with you tonight. She agreed, settling back on the bed. Bucky leaned down and kissed both of you on the cheek, wishing you sweet dreams, before heading back to his own room.

As soon as the door closed behind Bucky, you felt a tear fall down your face. You hoped you had wiped it away before Natasha could notice, but no such luck.

“Babe what’s wrong?” Concern was clear in her voice.

“I just miss him,” you squeak out, voice barely above a whisper. “I know he’s out there being the amazing man he is, working hard to save the world. And don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love him for it…I just…I miss him. I need him to save me too.” Natasha’s face softens, a small smile on her lips.

“I understand, (y/n). Of course you miss him and need him to be with you. I also know he wants nothing more than to come home to you as soon as he can. He hates leaving you. That’s part of the reason he asked you to move in here, this way if he isn’t gone on a mission and you aren’t working, he’ll always have you close by.”

You remember being surprised by Steve’s proposal of you moving in, not only to the Avengers compound, but into his room. With most of his life experience coming from the 1930s and 40s, he’s a pretty traditional man. It’s something you find so endearing about him but makes questions like this one a little more surprising. Of course you had said yes, throwing yourself into his arms as he lifted you off the ground into a tight hug.

Natasha noticed you lost in your thoughts. Snapping you back to reality, she said “I have an idea, I’ll be right back.”

She slipped out of your room, returning a few minutes later. She pulled a small cone out of a bag and you looked at it curiously.

“It’s henna,” she explained. “It stains your skin, just for a couple weeks, and fades off. Want me to give you a tattoo? Something pretty to look at?”

You nodded your head and extended your right arm out towards her on the bed, palm facing up. Natasha got to work on your forearm. While she drew away, the two of you talked about everything. To be fair, the conversation heavily lingered on the topic of Steve. She wanted to know everything about your relationship. It was funny being questioned by her, because as your best friend, you already told her everything. She just wanted to make sure there weren’t any details you might have forgotten to share. Thirty minutes later, she stops drawing and examines her artwork. Satisfied, she smiled and asked you what you thought.

“Oh Nat, it’s beautiful!” Your eyes scanned over the henna on your skin. She drew a beautiful peony design, your favorite flowers. You’d always had a liking for the flowers, but your love for them became stronger when Steve gave you peonies on your first date, unaware they were your favorites.

You hugged Natasha with your other arm, careful to not bump the design. After the henna had started to really dry, she helped you wrap it up do you could sleep without messing anything up.

In the morning, you unwrapped your forearm and peeled off the hardened pieces, revealing the orange-ish brown stain on your skin. Natasha told you for the next couple days it would darken a little more into a deeper brown. You ran your fingers over the stain, a smile on your lips.

Another excruciating week passed by. You were once again laying on Steve’s bed, wearing your favorite shirt of his and reading a book, when the door to the room flies open. Bucky is standing there, smile on his face.

“Get up doll, the jet just landed.”

You wasted no time jumping off the bed and running down the hallway, following Bucky. Even after living there for three weeks the compound was confusing to navigate. A few twists in and you already were unsure of where you were, happy Bucky was your guide. After what felt like ages you finally came to a halt and you saw him. He was turned away from you, hanging up his tactical gear. It’s been three weeks since you’ve seen him, since you’ve heard his voice. You couldn’t wait any longer. You ran towards Steve full speed. He must have heard your footsteps because he turned towards you, grin on his face, arms open wide. You jumped into his arms as they wrapped around your waist, pulling you tight against his chest. You buried your face into his neck, breathing in his scent you had missed so much. Steve felt your body start to shake and grew concerned.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Your heart nearly broke at the tone of his voice.

“N-Nothing Steve…I just…I missed you, and you were gone so long I was starting to worry…”

His grip around your waist tightened in a reassuring way.

“I’m right here now (y/n). I’m okay, everyone is safe,” he cooed in your ear while using one hand to rub small circles on your back.

You pulled back just enough to look at his face. Those beautiful blue eyes melted your heart. Steve took the opportunity to close the distance, kissing you. The kiss was desperate and needy, but filled with more love than any you had shared before. You could have lived in that moment forever.

Bucky didn’t want to interrupt your reunion, but he was anxious to greet his friend as well. He slowly walked over and patted Steve on the shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re home, punk.”

Steve’s smile grew and he awkwardly tried to hug Bucky while still holding onto you.

Finally, Steve set you back down. Ever the gentleman, he tugged his shirt back down on you to make sure you were covered. The gesture was small, but the tenderness of it made you blush. He placed his hands ever so softly on your arms and looked down at you. He had nothing but love in his eyes, but you felt your blush deepen under his intense gaze. As much as you had missed Steve, he missed you just as much and wanted to take in every inch of you. The grip of his left hand tightened, holding on your right elbow. Confused, you look up at his face and see his eyebrows furrowed together. Following his gaze, you see he is staring at the henna on your forearm.

“Steve?”

“What’s this?” His confusion came through in his voice.

“It’s nothing Steve,” you said, letting out a light laugh.

“You got a tattoo while I was gone?”

“Steve, honey, no it’s not a tattoo.” Your voice grew soft and gentle.

As well as Steve was becoming accustomed to the modern world after being back for close to a decade, his core beliefs still stood built in the past. Tattoos were not something women had, let alone displayed so prominently on their arms. His fingers ran feather-light over the stain on your skin. You shivered at the touch.

“It’s henna Steve, it fades off in a couple weeks.”

You hadn’t anticipated the possibility of this bothering Steve. Sometimes it was easy to forget that he wasn’t just a man with traditional values.

His grip on your elbow loosened and his face relaxed.

“It’s beautiful, (y/n),” Steve said barely above a whisper. “Are those peonies?”

You felt your own body relax at his gentle voice. He continued to trace the design.

“I’m glad you like it.” You couldn’t help the smile that took over your face. “Yes, they are. Natasha drew it the other night. I got pretty mopey while you were gone, and she and Bucky made it their jobs to keep my spirits up.”

Steve grinned at Bucky, silently thanking him, before focusing back on you.

“As happy as I am to be back with you sweetheart, I’m exhausted. How about we head back to my room?”

You smiled and silently nodded, entwining your fingers with his, following behind him back through the twists and turns of the compound. After what felt like ages, you were back in front of Steve’s door. He looked back at you smiling, placing a soft kiss on your forehead as he opened the door.

As much as you didn’t want to leave his side, you made a beeline for his bed as he headed for the bathroom. A warm shower would help him wash off the stress of the past three weeks. You not so patiently waited for him, laying down and twiddling your thumbs, imagining him cuddled up against you.  

Suddenly the door to the bathroom opened and Steve emerged in his favorite sweatpants and damp hair. The sight sent butterflies flying in your stomach. Even after three years together he made you feel giddy and shy at times. You loved seeing him like this, when it was just him, just Steve. Obviously you love his heroic side too, but let’s be honest, his heroism wasn’t just Captain America, it was Steve.

Steve’s voice snapped you back to reality. “You’re staring sweetheart.”

You caught the smirk on his lips before dropping your gaze to your hands, a deep blush heating your cheeks.

You felt the mattress dip as Steve laid down, ultimately causing your body to roll towards the dip and tuck you into his side. As soon as your head touched his chest, his arms snaked around your waist and he pulled you onto his chest. You felt your own body relax as his heartbeat became clear through his chest. Laying with your head right over his heart was your favorite way to be, and it usually meant his arms were snugly wrapped around your waist. You never felt safer than in moments like these. The two of you laid there silent for a while, just soaking each other in. He unwrapped one of his hands from your waist, moving to lightly brush his fingers up and down your forearm. It tickled just slightly, and Steve knew how much you loved the feeling. It was his go-to to calm you down. Tonight, his fingers danced over the stained flowers.

You broke the silence first. “Do you really like the flowers?”

“Of course I do (y/n). It really is beautiful. Natasha is quite the artist.”

You started to speak again, wanting to ask a question that’s been nagging you since he first grabbed at your arm, but part of you didn’t want to know. After a moment, you found your courage and blurted it out before you could stop yourself.

“What if it was a tattoo?”

Steve’s hand stopped moving and you felt his body tense slightly. He wasn’t sure how to answer.

“I…uh…I don’t know. I guess I never really thought about you having a tattoo.”

You shifted your body so you could see his face. His eyes looked conflicted and unsure.

“When I was growing up, tattoos had a very different connotation than they do now. Most men didn’t have tattoos, at least not on display. Women really didn’t get tattoos, so I guess it isn’t really something I thought about.”

A new question rose in your mind and a knot grew in your stomach. You started chewing on your lip. Steve noticed and sat up, a look of concern growing on his face. He pulled you into his lap and hugged you to his chest.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” His voice was gentle, comforting.

Taking a deep breath, the words came out barely above a whisper. “Would you have broken up with me if it was?”

“What?” Steve sounded genuinely shocked, and maybe slightly hurt, by your question.

“Would you have?”

“Of course not (y/n)! I would never let something like that end our relationship. I love you so much. Everything about you.” With those words he hugged you tighter. “I was just surprised to see it. It was shocking to think you would get a tattoo without even mentioning it to me, that’s all. You know I don’t want to control you, and I would never try to, but I like to think we talk about everything.” Now it was your turn to hug him. “I do talk to you about everything. I appreciate your input, especially when it comes to big decisions. I would never get a tattoo without even mentioning it to you.”

The room fell silent again for a few minutes, then you spoke up again, feeling more confident about the situation.

“What would you think about me getting this as a real tattoo?” You stared into his eyes, searching for any feeling he might be trying to hide.

Seeing nothing but honesty and love you relaxed as Steve answered.

“I think it would look beautiful.”

A grin spread across both of your faces, and Steve craned his head down to kiss you.

Giving in to the tiredness creeping up on both of you, Steve laid back down, pulling you with him. You were back on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. He had one arm wrapped around your waist, the other hand tracing the flowers once again. That night, you and Steve slept better than you have in a long time.

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REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

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Taglist: @belladonnabarnes

[timeisacephalopod]

Remember when I said I’s do a Jaskier/Geralt thing for Valentines Day and then I didn’t? Well, this is that but like. Late. So have a modern soulmate AU in which Geralt and Jaskier meet at a renaissance fair thanks to Roach.

*

Jaskier is minding his own business tuning his lute when something sticks its nose right in his ass. He turns around to find a horse standing there not looking the least bit guilty and he crosses his arms over his chest. “Do you mind getting your horse’s nose out of my sphincter? Is nothing sacred anymore?” he asks the horse, giving it a look as he takes a couple steps back. Then he makes the mistake of looking at the owner and oh, he wishes he started with a line about how endearing the horse was because this guy is hot. Stupidly hot and of course.

He narrows his eyes at Jaskier and they’re such a pretty golden color Jaskier is almost distracted. “Her name is Roach,” he says and no, no.

“Oh my god what did you do, think up the worst possible name so that it would be tattooed on me forever?” he asks. Roach- who even names a horse Roach?

“I had to learn what a sphincter was at the tender age of three. You earned Roach,” the guy says and never mind if Jaskier sticks a gag in it he’ll take one for the team but the universe has messed up on this one.

“Well horses are awful. They run around on their finger nails and I hate that about them.” He crosses his arms again, hip out as he gives Roach a distasteful look.

Roach’s owner, Hotpants over there, looks deeply offended that his horse has been insulted. “That is the sluttiest outfit I have ever seen,” he says, nodding at Jaskier. He looks down and sure, he’s a little risqué with his powder blue jacket open and a couple buttons to his blouse undone but he personally thinks its tasteful.

“What in god’s name has you looking at your outfit like its personally offended you?” Yennefer asks. Jaskier looks over to find her leaning against a fence post looking bored.

“He just called my outfit slutty!” he says, gesturing to the white haired hottie.

“I did tell you that was quite thotty before we left the house but you insisted,” she says, flicking her fingers at him. He makes another upset noise.

“I can’t believe I’m being slut shamed all because your horse molested me!”

“You’re being slut shamed because you look like a slut,” White Hair says and this is the best the universe could do for him? Sure he’s hot, but at what cost?

“Alright, break it up. What’s got you so pissed off Geralt?” Yennefer asks and oh, so they know each other.

“This is my soul mate,” Geralt, Jaskier supposes his name is, says as he gestures to Jaskier.

That seems to throw Yennefer for a moment. “Why the hell are you mad about your soul mate showing up? You’re welcome by the way, for bringing him to you,” she says like its something she’s done on purpose.

“Oh, I’m not thankful. I had to walk around with ‘get your horse’s nose out of my sphincter’ on my forearm my entire life and he has the balls to complain about what I named my horse!”

“Your first words to me were ‘her name is Roach.’ I had to wonder my entire life if this was a child, a pet, or god forbid a prostitute. Then I find out its a horse, the worst of those options.” At least with the prostitute be could have felt bad that someone actually named an entire human being that. Same with a child, but a pet horse named Roach? Unforgivable.

“Seeing this shit makes me glad I don’t have a soul mate,” Yennefer mumbles.

“He doesn’t like horses!” Geralt says like this is personally offensive.

“Yeah, Jaskier is terrified of them,” Yennefer says and why does she feel the need to let that information out?

“Go get him,” Geralt tells the horse and Jaskier skitters back a few steps.

“Absolutely not, you stay where you are you freaky little beast!”

“This is a two thousand pound animal, why would you describe her as ‘little’?” Geralt asks.

“The universe has fucked up with us, let me tell you that,” Jaskier tells him.

*

Ciri has the gall to laugh and Geralt isn’t impressed about it. “Well I think he seems nice,” she says.

“He doesn’t like horses and he dresses like that,” Geralt points out.

Ciri looks Jaskier over while he does his best to avoid Roach following him around. “He seems nice and Roach likes him, that’s a good sign,” she says.

“Roach has been hit in the head too many times,” he mumbles.

“Roach has never been hit in the head, we’ve had her her whole life, Geralt. And I’m certain you love that horse more than you love me so we all know she’s well cared for. Stop sulking and go save him from Roach, say hello, bond with him a little,” she says, trying her best to prod him forward.

He refuses to go because Ciri is sixteen, what the hell does she know? And Roach is a horse, she also knows nothing. “I can do without,” he mumbles.

“I can’t believe the universe gives you a soul mate and instead of being grateful you’re mad he doesn’t like horses,” Ciri says, rolling her eyes. He’d point out that being soul mates didn’t end well for her parents but that’d be cruel so he keeps it to himself. Besides, he’s been her parent more than long enough for that not to really apply anyway.

“He’s scared of horses. There’s a difference,” Geralt says.

Ciri just rolls her eyes at him and walks away. Unfortunately she’s immediately replaced by Yen. “You should sleep with him at least, he’s got good Yelp reviews,” she says and Geralt can’t help the snort he lets out.

“I knew that outfit wasn’t lying.”

“Yeah. Kind of pisses me off that men can only dress slutty in victorian clothing and that’s only because of the standards of the time,” she says, looking displeased about that. “Point is, you might as well take advantage of the universe deciding you should be together. He’s cute.”

“He’s not that cute,” Geralt says, watching as Jaskier tries desperately to wave Roach away. It doesn’t work, Roach advances on him anyway intent on getting a pet. Jaskier shoots him and Yen a somewhat desperate look but neither of them move.

“He’s literally exactly your type,” Yen says.

“What type do I supposedly have?”

“Asshole. Trust me, you’ll fall madly in love with him and you’ll have adorable little babies,” she says, waving a hand around. That’s ambitious of her to think.

“I’m fine with Ciri, thanks.” Yen just rolls eyes and walks away.

*

“At the very least you could sleep with Geralt, he’s quite good,” Yennefer tells him and Jaskier wrinkles his nose.

“No! And where am I even supposed to do this in a public place?” he asks. They’re in the middle of a renaissance fair and even if they weren’t he has a horse. 

“Like you normally care,” Yennefer mumbles and yes he does! Occasionally, anyway. He remains silent and she lets out a long sigh, “I am not dealing with the two of you dancing around each other so get your slutty ass up and lets go find Geralt so you two can properly decide if you hate each other,” she tells him, grabbing a stick and poking him with it. He’d slap it out of her hand but he’s a little afraid of her so he doesn’t.

That said he’s not happy that he’s being dragged out by his collar to go deal with his supposed soul mate who is probably the worst.

*

Jaskier wrinkles his nose as he shifts so that pice of straw isn’t jabbing his back anymore. “Well, at least Yennefer was right about the yelp reviews,” Geralt mumbles and Jaskier squints.

“What? Oh whatever, doesn’t matter. Yennefer wasn’t wrong about you either but I still don’t like you,” he says.

“Hmm,” is all he gets back because apparently he slept with a fucking cave man.

Jaskier goes to pull himself out of the straw and he frowns, “Did you notice that this barn has open doors?” he asks. He can see people out of it and oh boy, this is a lot even for him. He has not made good life choices today. First he agrees to stick a horse in a barn and now its led to the rest of whatever the hell this is. This is why he doesn’t like horses, they’re bad omens.

“You didn’t notice?” Geralt asks, raising an eyebrow.

“And you did?”

“Thought you had a thing for exhibitionism,” Geralt says nonchalantly and Jaskier shakes his head.

“We are so not meant for each other.”

“Hmm. Meet me back here at five?” Geralt asks.

“Fine, but only because Yennefer will probably make me go,” Jaskier tells him before he walks off, attempting to rearrange his hair into something less heinous as he goes.

[geeky-introvert]

Rise . Harald X OC

Summary:  Escaping from her abusive husband with her children Aurella never expected to end up with the Heathens, even more to catch the eyes from the King of Norway….One-shot.

Authors note: I managed to write this in a day after being sick all week. Feeling much better today, very grateful. Hope you all enjoy!

Word count: 2633

Warning: Mentions of abuse and smut.

Tag list: @lisinfleur @mdlady @didiintheblog @alicedopey @rekdreams247​ @mblaqgi @oddsnendsfanfics @aphnxrising @happydaysandersen @therealcalicali @naaladareia @inforapound @captstefanbrandt @waiting4inspiration @tabalugax @p8tn0lish @igetcarriedawaywithyou @laketaj24 @darlingp @tephi101 @youbloodymadgenius @lordsexmachine @wonderlandofsu @alwaysbenhardysgirl @sparklemichele @hecohansen31 @readsalot73 @narry28 

If anyone else wants to be added to the tag list let me know please.

Ending up with the Heathens wasn’t what Aurella had in mind, but it was a far better life still then being married to that violent husband of hers. Yes, ending up as a slave, working in the hall for the king of Norway sounded not like the best thing but it honestly was, even more for her children.

For years she put up with her husband's ways and it only grew worse. She should’ve left him a long time ago but stayed because it was the only home they had. Then when he tried to take out his anger on the kids that’s when she acted and slammed a wooden plank over his head, giving her enough time to flee with her kids.

It was just fate, that’s what she was calling it, that the Heathens were nearby, planning to attack her village. Bumping into them was enough shock, but even more when her husband suddenly came out, charging behind them and then dropping dead, killed by a single arrow.

All she could do was shield her children as one of them approached her, later learning his name was Harald, king of all of Norway. Right there she promised to serve him, only to keep her children safe and after thinking about it for a moment he agreed.

Keeping his word he made sure her children and herself had their own cabin in his settlement right near the hall. All he asked was for her to serve him and she did. Her son, Durwin, was the eldest and old enough to help take care of his little sister, Linette.

It was a change for them, a better life she called it. Least she didn’t need to worry about her drunk and abusive husband anymore and give her children a chance in another culture. It meant forgetting about their god and embracing the Heathens gods, which was strange but at this point in life she didn’t care honestly.

The only good thing that life gave her was two beautiful children. 

Serving King Harald was something she was willing to do and he was much kinder than most of anyone else in her life towards her. It may sound strange but it was true. When while doing her chores she would see her children surrounding him.

At first she thought they might’ve been bothering him but quickly discovered he asked for them to be there, to tell them stories and listening to their own, learning about each other. She noticed that her children were comfortable with him and that made her relax.

After settling her children for sleep she then came into his room where she drew him a warm bath and waited for him. She grew used to this lifestyle quickly, and it was a better life than what she used to have. How sad was that, better to be a slave then married to her drunk and abusive husband.

“Aurella?” Hearing Her name she suddenly stood up and turned to see Harald in the room.

“King Harald, forgive me I didn’t hear you come on.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about, my dear.” He always called her that and it always made her cheeks flush red feeling shy about it always. “I don’t think you heard me, I said your children are very smart and beautiful, I enjoy their company.”

“Oh, yes, sorry-” She cleared her throat a little. “Just thinking.”

“Anything interesting?” He asked as he stepped forward and started to remove his clothes for the bath. It wasn’t the first time, but she felt her cheeks become warm whenever she saw his toned chest and tattoos, much better compared to the drunk pig belly from her husband.

“No, my lord.” She answered as he slipped into the basin and she poured some salt into the water for him to soak in.

“Hmm.” Harald hummed gently in return as he watched her fondly, giving a small smile. “You’re an interesting woman, Aurella, yet I hardly know anything about you.”

“Forgive me, my lord, but you haven’t really asked me anything.” She smiled gently as he smirked back in return. He really enjoyed her company.

“Please, Aurella, call my Harald, I’ve told you that already.”

“Forgive me, my-” Stopping herself she blushed a little. “Harald.”

“Now, tell me a little about yourself.”

Aurella started small, telling of the simple and poor life she had with her parents on their little farm. She was an only child since her mother died at a young age and her father fell ill as she got older. That’s when a man came to her, offering his hand in marriage and feeling desperate she agreed. At first she thought they could learn to love each other, but it was just a sad life being married to him. He grew fatter, lazier and soon became abusive. For too long she put up with it before finally making a run for it, and that’s when she said they found them and killed him just in time.

“He can no longer hurt you or your children ever again.” He told her as he listened carefully.

“Yeah, because you saved us from that life, from him.” Grabbing a rag she then started to help clean his arms, her eyes lingering too long over his tattoos.

“He wasn’t a man, but a fool, someone who got what they deserved for ever hurting you. I see a beautiful and smart woman willing to protect those they love. The moment I saw you I knew there was something special, and I suddenly had to...know you.”

“Know me? What do you mean?” She asked as she glanced up into his eyes. His kind words were heard and she wasn’t even sure how to answer him for that.

Harald moved his hand and touched her face, caressing her cheek and moved away again giving her a weak smile. “I find you beautiful, and I wish for you to be aware that I feel this pull towards you. I would like something more, and I don’t wish to scare you away.”

His confession didn’t surprise her honestly. There was a part of her that suspected this, but didn’t want to think too much about it. Yes, he was a very handsome man, but she didn’t know what to say or do about it.

“Any princess would be lucky to have you as their husband. I’m just a simple woman, I come from nothing.” It was true, not that she was denying him, just speaking truthful words.

“I come from nothing, my dear. That’s the life I was born into, a simple farmer. But I wanted so much more and I grew myself in power, became an earl, then I fell in love with a princess. I offered my hand in marriage to her but she refused, saying I wasn’t worthy yet, that I had to become a king to win her hand in marriage. So, I killed kings to become one, gained more power, more lands, and when I was ready I found out she married another man, an earl, it broke my heart. There was another woman, my enemies lover and she agreed to marry me. She...was beautiful, strong, and died in battle along with our unborn child. As time passed I slowly healed and found my gaze on another woman, but she chose to marry Bjorn Ironside instead. I’ve never had the best of luck with women, and I hope that even just once, I can feel that...tender feeling, love.”

She listened to him as he spoke. How could a man like him get hurt or lose someone, she didn’t understand this. Yes, she’s heard of Bjorn Ironside, son of Ragnar but that was it.

“I’m sorry for what you’ve been through, Harald. I...I feel silly for saying this but…. I do feel something for you. For so long I put up with my husband, took all his anger to protect my children, and when he went to hurt them I attacked him and finally took off, and you know the rest. For once I would like to feel love as well, to know what it’s like, at least once.”

“Not just once.” He was suddenly closer then, brushing his nose against her own making her breath hitch. “I want it to last forever.” His lips were suddenly on her own in a tender kiss.

The kiss caught her by surprise but she didn’t pull away, in fact she slowly leaned into it, accepting the kiss from him. Her reaction pleased Harald and he deepened it more.

Suddenly he pulled her into the basin with her, making her gasp softly from the sudden wetness and the fact she was still wearing a dress but he didn’t seem to care before kissing her again. His hands roamed over her, pulling her closer against him more while she returned the kiss back before  letting out a surprised gasp against his lips feeling his hardness.

Not that she was against the idea, but she hasn’t really ever had a pleasent experiance with sex before. But it felt different now, finally a moment for her to enjoy with another.

“Aurella. I wish to have you, but only if you’ll have me.”

Never had she been even asked. “Yes, you may.” She wanted this just like him.

He pulled down the front of her dress then, exposing her breasts and massaged one as he kissed the other making her moan in pleasure softly. The reaction he gave her was so unexpected, but it all felt so real, and she craved for that.

Her head tilted back as his warm lips and beard tickled up her neck then, showering her in a bliss and love as she pressed herself closer against him.

His throbbing cock positioned against her before she suddenly was filled by him, letting out a loud moan as his thickness stretched her depths beyond like before.

“Am I hurting you?” His words were so kind, tender.

“No, you’re just very big.” She admitted shyly making him chuckle softly.

“All for you, my dear.”

He started to move her hips against him, slowly, allowing her to adjust and feel him twitch inside of her as she clenched a little, sighing in pleasure with her hands gripping onto his shoulders. Sex never felt so good before, this wasn’t what she ever imagined it to be like.

“Harald….this feels good.” She whispered as she moved her hips.

“It gets better.” And it did, so much. His cock hit the right places inside her, rubbing against her walls as she rocked a little more firmer against him, rubbing herself and building up both their pleasures.

Harald buried his face against her neck and shoulders, holding her close and savouring every second of this blissful moment with her. It had been so long since he’s felt like this and he didn’t want to lose that feeling ever again.

After a time their movements became more firmer, slopping, both closer to reaching their ends together. Neither stopped and just let it happen.

“Harald...I-I’m...I’m close!” She warned him but he only gave a breathy smile.

“Let yourself go, my dear.”

And she did, letting out a cry of pleasure, not caring who heard as she milked him and he suddenly followed closely behind, spilling his seed deep within her depths and riding out their orgasms together.

Aurella rested her head down against his shoulder as she panted heavily, tired and dazed.

“I want to take you to bed, to hold you in my arms all night.” He whispered between kisses.

“I would be happy to join you.” She answered back.

She was so dazed that the last she could remember was being carried in his arms and laid in his bed before falling asleep against his chest, savouring the warmth from him.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

When Aurella woke up the next morning she was naked in bed, alone, but comfortable and warm still. Holding the furs against her chest she sat up and wondered where Harald went off to. He was king, so of course he had duties to follow.

Suddenly the doors open making her gasp softly only to see another thrall coming in, looking up at her and bowing lightly.

“Forgive me, my lady. I didn’t mean to startle you. King Harald has asked me to help you get ready before eating this morning.” She then proceeded to get a dress for her

She didn’t understand what she meant but was left speechless. Silently she got out of bed, still holding the furs before the thrall helped her, something she’s never had done before.

“I-I can dress myself…” She told her in the nicest way possible.

“King Harald insisted I help, forgive me, I do not wish to disappoint him.

Once dressed and hair braided she looked at herself in the mirror and was amazed how she looked. The dress was way too beautiful, only fit for a queen, and yet she was wearing it.

Coming out she saw Harald standing about looking like he was waiting for her, and when he looked up he held a large bright smile, opening his arms.

“So beautiful, my dear. Kissed by Freyer herself.”

His words made her blush a little before she asked him.

“What’s going on? I mean, I’m just a little confused.”

“I see, and I’m sorry I wasn’t there this morning, I just had to prepare things. First off, you’re no longer a slave, you’re a free woman to do as you please, as well as your children.”

This caught her by surprise. “I...I don’t know what to say.”

His hands came up to caress both her cheeks. “I want you and your children to be happy, and I stop you from doing what you want. However, now comes another question. I would like to marry you, for you to become my wife and queen. Your children shall be raised as if they were my own and I swear it on my arm ring that I’ll never bring harm to them, or you, my dear. I won’t force you to decide though, it’s up to you.”

She was left speechless and didn’t know how to respond to him. Her whole life she had been trapped and now she has the chance to be free, but either with or without Harald.

“Mother!” She heard her children come running into the hall, clean and new clothes, fit for a princess and prince. They looked so happy and proud.

“Look mother! I’m a princess!” Linette gave a spin with a beaming giggle.

“I’ve never had such nice clothes. Thank you, King Harald.” Durwin said.

“Durwin, you may call me Harald, no need to be formal.” He said rubbing his head.

Aurella stared at her children with a soft smile. They looked so happy, not because of the clothes, but just being here. Harald was the only man to ever treat them with kindness, as he was the only one to treat her the same way. Looking back at him she then suddenly stepped closer and gave a soft kiss to him, hearing her children gasp as they saw this.

Moving away her eyes glittered as she caressed his cheek gently.

“Thank you, Harald, for everything. I will marry you.”

Harald gave a light happy chuckle, embracing her as the children looked at one another, surprised by the news but happy about their mother’s choice.

“You won’t regret this, I promise.”

She had a good feeling she won’t regret this either. Being here had made her the happiest in all her life. A new change and a new life, it’s all they needed.

[ill-skillsgard]

Blue and Yellow - Part 1 - Axel Cluney

Title: Blue and Yellow

Characters: Axel Cluney x female OC

Warning: 18+ sex/mature themes/medical themes/mentions of blood+injuries/hospitals/violence/drug and alcohol use

Description: A new nurse finds herself entangled in the complicated life of an underground boxer with a slew of problems she cannot fix.

Note: I've wanted to write Axel as a boxer for a while now and finally came up with a storyline I could put him into. I hope you enjoy it and please consider leaving a comment and/or reblogging! Patreon subscribers got to read this last week as part of the early access benefit.

+

A nurse stood outside room 2817, reading over the tattooed man’s chart. He had come in—unconscious—and woke up in a bloody daze. She remembered seeing his swollen head and thinking there wasn’t a chance he hadn’t sustained a brain injury, but the man was alert and became responsive not long after. That was several hours ago when she began her third shift ever at Featherfall General.

The man with the black and blue face was awake and sitting up in his hospital bed. At the request of others, they pulled over the curtains to shield eyes from prodding at the swollen knot of an eyeball enclosed beneath a grotesque protrusion. His bottom lip had swelled to twice the size, and he couldn’t move any facial muscles without pain shooting up his nostrils. His nose stopped bleeding an hour ago and hadn’t sustained any injury beyond an unsightly bruise.

When she shifted the curtain aside, one squinting eye looked her over while the other remained concealed in a mountain of raw skin and broken blood vessels. She hadn’t seen anyone come in with a face like that yet. It made her stomach flip.

He couldn’t smile, but he wanted to. The nurse stood at the foot of his bed, her large brown eyes landing on every object in the room before taking a skittish scan of his face. The navy blue bubble of his closed eye ballooned to his temple and bled down to his cheekbone like an oil spill. It made the contusions on his shoulders and arms look like faded pinches. The bridge of his nose raised an inch off his face, puffy and tender. 

“You turning me loose, Saberrah?” He rasped, angling a look at the badge on a clip hanging out of her scrubs pocket.

“We will keep you a few more hours, on account of your concussion. The doctor will come to go over your CT scan. Would you like another ice pack?”

“Yes, ma’am, ‘ppreciate it.”

“All right, Mr. Cluney. You hang tight and try not to move around. Lie back and rest.”

“Can’t lie down,” he muttered. “Can’t sit up either.”

“That’d be your cracked rib,” she informed him. “Looks like you took a bad beating.”

He squirmed, wincing from the pain shooting through his lung. “Is it a good time to say ‘you should’ve seen the other guy’?”

She took his humour with a small smile. “I don’t want to know what kind of trouble you found for yourself. I just hope it doesn’t happen again. A concussion is a serious thing, Mr. Cluney.”

“Axel, please. You make me feel old,” he said.

“Says here you’re twenty-nine. Not old yet. But dirty thirty is coming up. You might not heal up as quick as you used to when you were a younger trouble-maker.”

Axel grimaced through a weak chuckle. “Dirty thirty. I like that.”

“Hopefully, you live to see them.”

“And what makes you say I’m the trouble-maker? Maybe I was minding my own business.”

She acknowledged him with a nod and a muted smirk. “I’m sure you were, Mr. Cluney.”

“Axel,” he corrected her again.

The voice slipping out of swollen lips was warm, but to look at his face still made her heart twinge. By anyone’s assumption, the man with the beaten face, a broken rib and tattoos was a sucker in a deal gone wrong. Featherfall was no cottage town with walking bridges and newly paved streets. Despite the pleasant melody of its name, it was no more a city than it was a village, but something in-between. It was big enough to get lost in, yet everyone seemed to know each other. It had its fair share of drug problems, and Axel Cluney was the fourth guy she saw that raised more than an eyebrow or two.

Her trained eyes fell to his arms, seeking any inflamed injection sights along his arms or puffy purple fingers. She found nothing out of the ordinary but scraped knuckles and tattoos to make a mother mourn.

“Hello, Sabi,” a voice greeted her from behind.

She turned to a man in standard indigo scrubs. It was the doctor charged with the late evening rounds, a man named Rufus Farber. Sabi relinquished the clipboard to the young doctor and stepped back.

“We meet again, Axel,” Dr. Farber spoke through a tight smile. The shadow in his eyes told of little sleep and too many occupied beds for a Wednesday morning. Though he was fresh out of med school, he had the tired look about him of a man twice his age. 

“Good to see you. Well... What I can of you,” the patient’s words flubbed out of fat lips.

Sabi left to find a cold pack and came back to them laughing like old pals. Dr. Farber was wrapping up and taking inch steps away while scribbling on a prescription pad.

“Your rib should heal up fine if you can keep still for a while. I suggest telling Eugene to take you off the night shift for a couple of weeks,” the doctor said with a wink.

“I reckon I’ll take some of that advice,” Axel replied. “I could use a little vacation.”

The injured man swung a slow gaze at Sabi, then saw the cold pack in her hand. She handed it to him, and he nodded a silent thanks.

The doctor signed the bottom of the note with a flourish of his pen. “Get yourself some painkillers, my man. Check-in at the pharmacy across the street.”

“Thanks, Doc. And thank you, Sabi.”

Sabi flinched at the sound of the patient using her nickname, but not so much that he noticed her reaction. “You take care of yourself, Mr. Cluney. We’ll come to get you in a couple more hours. Do you have somebody who can give you a ride home?”

“Sure do,” Axel replied.

“All right. You take care now.”

~*~

Featherfall General wasn’t the most state-of-the-art facility Sabi had ever worked. The rooms—often packed with patients — overflowed into the corridors. There were entire wings lined with beds, and everyone ran around like headless chickens in a crowded coop. It cut her work out for her, and a dull moment never sat right. There was always somebody screaming, children crying, women giving birth, blood to be mopped, and disruptions in the waiting rooms. 

Outside of the hospital—on the sidewalk and no closer—was where Sabi found a minute of rest. She could smoke a cigarette and forget that a patient had vomited blood on her. Sabi wasn’t alone on the sidewalk—far from it. Patients permitted leaving their rooms lined the walkway, smoking as many cigarettes they could fit into a ten-minute window. Some still hooked to their IV stands. One man with cracked red skin and starch white hospital sheets plastered to his arms and legs took puffs from a rancid gold-band cigarette that his companion held up to his chattering lips.

Sabi looked across the street at the pharmacy and the adjoining pediatrician’s offices. The building was a squat, rectangular structure next to a multi-level parking lot, of which she always heard the family members of patients complaining. The most frequent complaint was the seven-dollar parking fee. People who had dying relatives shouldn’t be expected to pay such a steep price to avoid getting a ticket.

New as she was, Sabi didn’t want to get on wrong sides by taking long breaks, and she chose the perfect moment to return as an ambulance flew into the emergency bay. Strapped to a stretcher, they hauled a tiny woman out of the back and rushed her into the hospital, followed by a tall man in blue jeans and a black tank top. Sabi only saw his side profile before he was halfway down the hall, following the EMTs and the female doctor who had intercepted them.

“It’s another overdose.”

“Fourth one tonight.”

“Third time for her. Can you hear me, Mrs. Cluney?”

They disappeared around a corner and left Sabi blinking in the corridor while others tried to catch glimpses. Most of the folks waiting in the lobby had nothing better to do than gawk at the people with real problems; broken legs, failing hearts, deep gashes, bright yellow skin, and when somebody came in with a worse ailment than them, a chorus of scoffs warbled in the room. They drowned out the only television tuned to the local news and grimaced at each other.

“‘Scuse me? When can we see a doctor? My kid’s sick!”

The triage nurse glared through the glass window. 

“I’ve been here for three hours!”

“Do we have to hack our limbs off to get some attention in this place?”

Sabi ducked out of the waiting room and went to where she was needed most, but she couldn’t be in half a dozen places at once. She tried her best.

It was a long, hectic night, and the sickness she saw didn’t end until the early morning. She dragged her feet and tired eyes into the hospital cafeteria and made for the coffee machine for a cup that might get her home. If she had to get into her car and drive, she would need the caffeine to keep her eyelids drawn; otherwise, she’d be another person getting rushed through the doors and into intensive care.

An old couple sat in a corner, and the same tall man that came in at the end of her first cigarette break occupied a table in the centre. She squinted at him and realized that she knew his face from somewhere. He turned, and a faded crescent moon of bruising arced from his brow to his cheekbone. It was the man with the black and blue face, more yellow and green now that the swelling disappeared. Two large hands dwarfed a paper cup of coffee as he stared off into outer space. 

Before he snapped out of his deep thoughts, Sabi made her way to the table and gave her best comforting smile. Without the swollen balloon of a head, she could make out his facial features. He had sharp cheekbones and two eyes that reminded her of the foggy marshes on her grandparents’ land. He looked up at her and his placid face glimmered with a hint of welcome.

“Oh, hi,” he said, lifting the paper cup to his lips.

“Hello again, Axel. How’s the head? And the rib?” She asked.

He knocked on his temple, tossing out an amused laugh. “All’s well.”

“I saw you come in earlier. I hope everything is okay.”

Axel sighed, a hopeless air leaving his broad shoulders deflated. It was odd to see him dressed in civilian clothes with nothing but a faded bruise on his face. His knuckles still bore scrapes, and dark bags of exhaustion hung beneath his marshy eyes, but he looked healthy. Sabi’s eyes coasted up and down his tattooed arms, habitually looking for signs of drug use and found nothing but vulgar symbols.

“It’s my ma. She’s in a coma, I guess.”

“Oh, jeez. That’s terrible. I’m sorry. I hope she comes out of it soon.”

He shrugged and sipped his coffee again. “Might be the best thing for her. She did it to herself.”

“Oh?”

“I guess that’s what happens when you mix Percs and alcohol for three days straight.”

Sabi gave an understanding nod. It no longer surprised her to learn the extent of drug abuse inside the walls of Featherfall General. Axel looked off into the unknown again, absently drinking his coffee until the cup was empty.

“Are you doing okay?” Sabi asked, unsure if the stranger would take offence to her questions.

“I’ll be all right. My hopes are that she’s okay.”

“I hope so, too.”

Axel raised his empty cup, slid his chair out, and stood up. Sabi’s eyes followed his, and soon she was looking up. He seemed much taller than when he had been a crumpled thing lying in a hospital bed. 

“Well, I should head out. I’m done for the night. Or morning, I guess. Sorry to hear about your mom, and I hope I won’t be seeing you in here again soon.”

“I know, I’m a sight for sore eyes.” Axel pointed at the cloudy bruising around his eye.

“That’s not what I meant,” said Sabi, shaking her head with a smile. “I mean... I hope you don’t find another reason to come back here.”

“If I don’t, how will I ever see you again, Saberrah?”

[empyreanwritings]

Tender Surprises

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (biker!au)

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: language, Brock Rumlow gets a well deserved punch in the face

Summary: On Bucky’s birthday, your son has a very important question to ask him. And it may just be the greatest gift anyone has ever given him.

Feedback is always welcomed and encouraged! (:

Bucky collapsed on the couch next to you. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you close to his side. You leaned up, giving him a light peck on the cheek before resting your head on his chest. It had been quite the day for both of you.

Today was Bucky's thirty-sixth birthday. You and your son, Tyler, had planned the whole day out for him to celebrate. It started with an early morning breakfast in bed; Tyler claimed he made most of it, but he couldn't work a toaster to save his life. Once breakfast finished, you packed up the car and headed to the beach. Bucky had told you weeks in advance that he didn't want to do anything too crazy for his birthday, so you agreed a family beach trip would be perfect. And it was.

You spent most of the time lounging in a beach chair with a book, while Tyler kept Bucky busy working on "the biggest hole in the universe." Even if Bucky denied it, you knew he was just as excited to see how deep they could dig together.

You stayed at the beach until the sun began to set. Tyler whined about not wanting to leave, but he passed out quickly on the drive back home. Bucky held your hand the entire ride home. The best of Journey played softly in the background. It was incredibly peaceful. You, yourself, could have fallen asleep right there, but you didn't want to make Bucky drive all the way home with no one to talk to.

But now that you were back home, it was time for presents, and Tyler was already bouncing off the walls again. He was excited to give Bucky the present he picked out.

"Before you open the box, you have to read this letter first!" Tyler handed him a haphazardly wrapped box with a piece of paper taped on top of it. The letter had been your idea. You thought it would be the perfect lead up to what his present was. "And read it out loud!"

Bucky carefully pulled the tape off of the paper and cleared his throat. "Dear Bucky, when we first met, I was seven years old. Mom and I had moved in across the street, and you were the scary biker guy that our real estate lady warned us about. Mom and I didn't believe her, by the way."

The sun was brutal today. There was not a single cloud in the sky to block it out, and it had been beating down on Bucky all day. His shirt stuck to his back, and he knew he was dripping with sweat, but he had to finish working on the motorcycle for one of his clients. They were paying him extra to get it done before the weekend. And he could never turn down money.

He groaned and pulled his shirt off, using it to wipe the sweat from his forehead. Even with his hair up in a bun, sweat still managed to drip down into his eyes.

He really hated Florida sometimes.

"Are you in a gang?" Bucky's head snapped up in surprise at hearing a kid's voice.

A young boy stood on the other side of the motorcycle. His big brown eyes stared at Bucky curiously. There wasn't a sense of fear or worry about being so close to a stranger in them. Just idle curiosity.

"Where are your parents, kid?"

The young boy pointed to the house directly across the street from Bucky's. "My mom is making lunch right now. And my dad, well, he went to the store to buy milk. That was 4 years ago, so I think he might have gotten lost."

Bucky coughed, trying to hide the obvious shock that hit him. For a kid, he was very observant.

"We prefer to call it a club," Bucky chuckled. "We'd have to do a lot more illegal stuff to be considered a gang. I think we're pretty mild."

"Marcy said that my mom shouldn't move into our house because you and your gang sell drugs on the weekend."

"And what did your mom say about that?"

"She laughed and asked what kind of drugs you sell. She made a joke about brownies that Marcy didn't find amusing at all."

Bucky let out a loud laugh. Marcy had been a pain in his ass the day she started selling homes near his. She spread all sorts of rumors about him and his club to try and get the neighborhood to rally against him. Some days he'd be a pimp running an underground prostitution ring, and others he'd be a drug lord who kept sharks in his pool. It was ridiculous.

The locals knew The Winter Riders were a tame motorcycle club, though. They met at the VFW on Saturdays, played some pool and occasionally got rowdy if they had one too many drinks. Most of its members were veterans, and they didn't want to start any trouble if they didn't have to. Of course, they had been caught dealing a few beatings to well deserved men. Sometimes they'd get a little too handsy with the bar staff and needed a reminder on why they shouldn't do that. No one ever got arrested though; Bucky knew the right people down at the police department.

"Tyler, what did I tell you about talking to strangers?" You stood at the end of Bucky's driveway, your hands on your hips.

Tyler shrugged. "You said only to talk to strangers if they're a good person for you to have sex with."

Your eyes grew wide, and you could feel the embarrassment crashing down on you. Bucky bit his lip to keep himself from laughing and looked over at you. He raised his eyebrows in amusement, but you weren't looking at him. You were trying to look at anything but him.

"I said that as a joke!" You groaned. "Just. . .get inside. I have a surprise for you on the table!"

"Is it an Xbox?" Tyler gasped.

You gasped as well, keeping a huge smile on your face, and placed your hands on your knees so you were eye level with him. "No! It's your overdue homework that you need to turn in tomorrow!"

The smile on Tyler's face dropped, and he grumbled a quick goodbye to Bucky before storming off into the house. Your relationship with your son intrigued Bucky. You didn't seem upset by the sex candidate comment. Embarrassed, but not upset. Most parents wouldn't even let their kids know what sex was before the age of eighteen.

"Sorry about that," you apologized. "He and I have an open communication policy. I don't hide anything from him, and he doesn't hide anything from me. Apparently, that bites me in the ass sometimes."

"It's okay, really. He seems like a great kid."

Bucky used his shirt to wipe the grease from his hands and stood up. You eyed his shirtless body, trying not to make it obvious that you were loving the sight of his tattoos. He walked over to you and held his hand out, which you gladly shook.

"I'm James, by the way. Most of my friends call me Bucky." He flashed you a smile that had your heart stop in your chest.

Oh boy was he going to be trouble for you.

"Y/N. I don't have a nickname as interesting as yours," you said as you turned to head back to your house. "I should get back inside and make sure he's actually doing his homework. It was nice to meet you, Bucky."

"It was nice to meet you too."

Bucky smiled at the memory of meeting you and Tyler. He never would have expected that encounter to change his life. He couldn't even believe six years had passed since that day. Time sure did fly by.

"I knew you were going to be in our lives for a long time when mom came back smiling that day," Bucky continued. He glanced down at you, but you hid your face against his chest to keep him from seeing the cheesy smile on your face.

"There are a lot of moments that I appreciate, so I'm just going to list off the ones I enjoyed the most. One: the day you let me ride on the motorcycle with you. Two: the fishing trip with you, Uncle Sam, and Uncle Steve where you ended up tipping your canoe. Three: that one time I found the naughty video of you and mom, and you paid me not to tell anyone."

You jolted up and glared over at Bucky. You knew about the video - you had been the one to suggest you tape it - but you didn't know that Tyler stumbled upon it! Bucky's face turned red, and he kept his focus on the paper in his hands. He really didn't want to see the death glare you were giving him.

In his defense, you labelling it as a kid's show in hopes of disguising it was probably not the best idea.

"Four: the day you took me out for ice cream and asked for my permission to marry mom. And five: the day you punched my real-but-not-real father in the face."

Sam and Steve were sat on Bucky's couch, laughing about something that happened with Clint at the VFW last night. They hadn't gotten to the full story yet because they were laughing too hard. Whatever it was, Bucky hoped they got it on video. If it was as funny as they were making it seem, he wanted to see it for himself.

Their laughter was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell going off repeatedly. Bucky sat up and tried to see who was at the door through the window but couldn't see anybody. When the doorbells went unanswered, the person on the other side began knocking.

"Just a sec! I'm coming!" Bucky shouted as he walked over to the door.

When he swung it open, his gaze fell to Tyler, who's chest was heaving up and down like he had just ran over here. His eyes were wide with terror. Bucky had never seen him like this before, and he suddenly felt terrified about what the kid was going to tell him.

"My," Tyler paused and tried to catch his breath, "My dad. My dad is here. He's fighting with my mom."

As soon as he said this, Bucky heard you shouting from your driveway. He couldn't make out what was being said, but he saw the way your ex was towering over you - trying to intimidate you. Anger bubbled inside of his chest. He was going to end up doing something he'd regret later, but it'd be worth it.

"You want us to come with you, Buck?" Steve asked as he helped Tyler through the door.

Bucky shook his head. "No. You and Sam watch Ty. I've got to take care of this myself."

He gave Tyler a comforting look before stomping down the driveway. As he got closer, he could finally hear what you two were yelling about.

"I have a right to see my kid, Y/N!" Brock shouted, pointing towards the house. He obviously didn't know Tyler already took off to Bucky's house.

You scoffed. "You haven't tried seeing him or speaking to him since he was a toddler! He doesn't even really know you! And in case you don't remember, you signed away your rights when you decided to move in with your eighteen-year-old secretary and realized you didn't want to pay child support!"

Brock shot his hand out and gripped onto your arm, eliciting a small whimper from you. His grip was so tight, you could feel his fingernails starting to break your skin.

"Do not talk to me like that again, you bitch. I deserve to see my son, and I don't care what I hav-"

His threat was cut off by Bucky slamming his fist into his jaw. You gasped. In the year that you had known Bucky, you had never seen him act violently towards anyone. It had caught you by surprise, but you didn't mind. Brock deserved getting socked in the face. He was a dick.

Bucky pulled Brock up by the collar of his shirt and pressed his back against his fancy SUV. You thought Brock was going to fight back, but he just stayed limp in Bucky's grip. You should have felt bad for him, or at the very least pretended to, but you didn't have the energy to muster up that much face emotion.

"Don't ever put your hands on her again, you got that?" Bucky growled. "She's told me enough about you, and I will not hesitate to knock your teeth out if I even see you look in her direction right now."

"But she-"

"Is a vital part of this town. As soon as everyone hears about what you did, you're never going to be welcome here again. So, do yourself a favor and get lost, pal. And don't come back. Tyler doesn't want you in his life, he's got a new family now, and you didn't make the cut to be in it."

Bucky shoved him backwards and stepped in front of you, making sure you were shielded if Brock tried anything stupid. He was probably trying to debate whether taking Bucky on would be worth it or not. Brock was just as fit as Bucky, but the look in Bucky's eye warned him not to try it.

You both watched in amusement as he scrambled into his SUV and took off down the road. Bucky turned to ask if you were okay, but he was cut off by your lips pressing against his.

You quickly pulled away and slapped your hand over your mouth. "I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have done that, but I-"

Bucky gently wrapped his fingers around the back of your neck and pulled your lips back onto his. You melted into the kiss almost instantly. He felt the little sigh you let out and knew you were okay with this. It had caught you both by surprise, but boy was it worth it.

That day changed your lives, literally, forever. You and Bucky started dating after that day, and Tyler had been in complete awe of him. He looked up to him. He constantly told other kid's in his class that Bucky was secretly a superhero who saved his mom.

Brock stayed away after that. You weren't sure what sparked his sudden interest in wanting to get to know Tyler, but the pit in your stomach when you saw him told you that it couldn't be for good reasons. You figured since it was around tax time, he was going to try and claim Tyler as a dependent to get more money. Tax fraud was something you wouldn't be surprised about him doing.

Bucky took a deep breath. He could already feel the lump in his throat starting to form. He didn't want to get emotional, but the kid knew how to pull at a man's heartstrings.

"You have been in my life for six years now and married to mom for three of those. You have spent those years showing me how a real dad treats his son. You're open and honest, even when I ask uncomfortable questions. Like that time I asked about the scars hidden under your tattoos. You never yell or hit me. You're only grumpy in the morning when you haven't had your cup of coffee. You also love me. You show it- you show it-" Bucky sniffled and covered his face with the letter. A few tears fell from his eyes as he let out a shaky breath.

Reading this was a lot harder than he expected it to be.

You smiled up at your husband and gave his shoulder a comforting rub. Tears were already prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you were trying to keep it together for him.

"You show it in more ways than one. You show it when you leave cool drawings in my lunch box. You show it by reminding me to put on my seatbelt or tighten the straps on my helmet, if we're riding the motorcycle. You always make sure to tell me you love me, too. You say that it's important for us guys to be comfortable with showing emotion, so you always make sure I know that."

Bucky reached over and pulled Tyler close to him. He placed a tender kiss on the top of his head before continuing with the letter.

"I'm running out of time and my teacher is glaring at me, so I think she knows I'm not doing my vocabulary work. Do you remember the time I first called you "dad"? It had been an accident, but I'm not sure if I wanted to take it back."

It was just a few days after Tyler's ninth birthday. You had been putting so much work into making sure it was perfect that you were still exhausted. Since it was your day off, Bucky offered to watch Tyler while you caught up on your sleep. You did not need to be told twice.

Tyler had gotten home from school and was working on his homework in the living room. Books were spread out over the coffee table, and Bucky occasionally heard a grumbled complaint from him about how stupid math was. He thought about explaining the importance of math but decided to stay quiet in fear of distracting him.

Tyler was too good at getting Bucky to rabbit trail and turn a five-minute story into a thirty minute one.

"What's the Py-thag-o-ree-in thee-o-rum?" He asked, looking up at Bucky in desperation.

"It helps you find the slanty edge, also called a hypotenuse, of a right-angled triangle," Bucky explained. "It's A squared plus B squared equals C squared."

"Oh. Okay! Thanks, dad."

The word made both of them  freeze in their spots. It had felt so natural to be called dad, but he never expected Tyler to actually say it. It wasn't a bad thing at all - just very unexpected.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I don't know why I said that. That was stupid."

Bucky shifted off of the couch and took a seat next to him on the floor. "Woah, hey, no. I don't want you to be sorry for that. I know me and your mom aren't married yet, but I consider you to be my son. You don't have to call me dad if you don't want to, but you can. I'm not going to get upset by that. You call me whatever you're comfortable with."

Tyler nodded slowly and returned to his homework. He didn't press on the issue anymore after that. Bucky knew that when the time was right, he could talk about it again. All he needed was a little bit of reassurance.

"I knew that day you were my real dad. I spent a lot of time talking to mom about it, and we both agreed that it was time to make it official. Will you adopt me?"

Bucky reread the last part more than once. His hands shook as he did, and he couldn’t stop the tears from flowing now. Tyler wanted to be adopted by him. He couldn't believe it.

You gently took the letter from his hands and placed it on the coffee table. You gestured him to open the box in his lap. No words felt good enough to say right now, so you stayed quiet, but your heart was bursting with joy.

Bucky opened the box and saw the stack of papers that were waiting for him. It was all the paperwork that was required to go through with the adoption. Everything was already filled out, though. All it needed was Bucky's signature.

He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, a strangled sob escaping his lips. Tyler looked over at you, worried that Bucky didn't want to do it, but you gave him a reassuring smile.

He's crying because he's happy, you mouthed to him. He nodded in understanding.

"C'mere," Bucky cried as he pulled Tyler into a bone-crushing hug. "Yes, yes I will adopt you. Are you kidding me? This is the best birthday present anyone could ever give me, kid."

And it was. It really, really was.

Marvel Tag: @killcomet

[pettyelves]

us; on fire

[ the boy on fire, the man on fire, the home on fire] Her request to Mavas was simple.  Leave him wherever he was sulking, but get the bullet out. In all the chaos on the shores they’d stolen back Eilonwy from, she hadn’t noticed until it was late. And they hadn’t left well. 

That made Mavas the best option for making sure Kurel got his space without succumbing to infection from a dirty bullet wound.  But like all things An’Diel-- it couldn’t be that simple. The note came back via her personal courier:

Arbiter, He does not wish for assistance from myself. I did not feel it prudent to force my assistance upon him. I apologize. Mavas

The grimace that formed on Eilithe’s face ran deep into every crease of her tensed forehead and barely-visible wrinkle. Kurel’s stubborn nature aged her ten years each time he sought death and destruction.

She stomped from her office in Merchant Alley, into the clinic down the street, snatching up pills, a vial, needles, bandages. No explanation was giving, not that anyone was brave enough to ask the walking thunderstorm that was Eilithe An’Diel.

After her trek up the mountain to the Cock and Candle and grabbing a bottle of clear grain alcohol, Eilithe was met by a sign on Kurel’s door: Do not Disturb. She sneered at the very idea she would abide this request. No knock. Just a door opening. Eilithe didn't say a word, just shut the door behind her and crossed to set things down on an end table. A bottle of pills was twisted open and four were offered straight to his hand with the alcohol as a chaser. She just stared, both hands out in offering. The scent of unwashed man covered in blood was permeating the air, an utterance from Kurel’s lips of ‘Fuck me’, only a deeper irritant to Eilithe. “Pills. Really? I coul' chew the whole bottle and no' even ge' ten minutes of bliss."

She slammed the bottle down and popped the top on the pills before dumping them into his hands. "I can get the bullet out by time the pills wear off, if it's not enough I'll give you a shot or six or whatever. After, you can have the whole liquid bottle shot into your neck if you want it." She jingled the second bottle of liquid, which was commonly referred to by them and others in Dead Sun as the good shit. Her tone was too calm. He’d arrived at the eye of the storm. He obliged her enough that he chewed the pills slowly, but couldn’t resist twisting her last nerve. "Ever consider the only thin' more insufferable than you, is a gun shot?"

She had started toward his wound with feather-light touch, but his final fuck-you broke her patience. He made her hurt. And when he made her hurt, she became exponentially more inclined to make him hurt.  She pressed onto his wound, still not as hard as she wanted to. Her lips got very close to his ear and she seethed into his ear. "I am not your fucking punching bag." "Take a deep breath," and there were maybe two beats between the warning of something diving into his wound, and pulling the bullet out quickly. It was quick and precise, and probably confusing as to if it was a deft hand or finger-wiggling fuckery. 

He sputtered out more pills than he swallowed, and was preparing another verbal blow. The rending of the bullet from the festering wound invited a howl of swears that would make a sailor blush. When it was done, he bitterly chuckled. But there was no amusement in it. "Oh~ bu' you are a bitch."

The bullet hit her bloody palm and she immediately moved with her other hand to press gauze into the wound. "Oh you're damn right I'm a bitch," she said. "And that wouldn't have had to be if you had just taken Mavas' help."

Eilithe reached with one hand to take a needle in her teeth, then vial in her hand. With practiced drug use pre-motherhood was clear in the way she one-handed pulled the syringe full.

"I was trying to give you your fucking space, but you, in all your self-destructive predictable bullshit, had to refuse me trying to make sure you're okay." She went to inject him right in a main vein of the neck. "I can't take any more of your fucking punches Kurel. You win. You won when we were still on the water. So for what purpose does continuing to kick me verbally serve? Nothing. Nothing but your own fucking amusement and to punish me."

She did at least wait this time, for the drugs to start to effect him. Even as mad as she was, she kept pressure on the wound, waiting to feel the slightest relaxation in his body before moving on. "My fuckin' punches" he repeated it in a tone like it was the stupidest argument or excuse she was trying to make. "Do I look fuckin' amused, Eilithe?! Do I look like I take some fuckin' joy ou' of havin' my wife, an' my house an' my home agains' me!?" He illustrated each bulletin note with a count of a finger. Had come to stand, even as she applied pressure to the wound near his shoulder, but the injection was swift to feel and he barely had balance enough to spit the words out before he dropped back down to sit.

"There is nothin' to win, bu' there is everythin' to lose." Every two words divided by a short breath. The physical pain was quick to leave, but the clarity of thought was a greater struggle to hold to as he pointed at a wall in reference. "You .... you care more abou' tha' fuckin' boy WHO WAS SENT TO KILL YOU... than you do abou' us... about me." He swallowed thickly. Wiping the thin sheen of sweat that had started to bead across his brow with the back of his wrist. "Had i' been someone else, anyone... they'd have been detained, if not executed. An' you deliberately deceived the Council.... attacked by a vessel." He repeated her words from the opening of that meeting. His elbows planting on his knees as he dropped his head down into his hands.

Kurel and Eilithe had a very strange and unhealthy way of getting to points. Screaming, needling, and pushing each others buttons until the truth finally came out.

He felt second on her list of things to worry about. And for that, she realized she had committed a sin not easily repented.  Eilithe knit her brows and slid down to the floor at his feet. "I'm sorry," she said the dreaded words, but not with the tone of someone pathetic. It was similar to the tone he had used the singular time he apologized to her. One hand reached up to cup his cheek, the other was still planted on his wound. "Lie back so I can close the hole," she couldn't say everything all at once, not while worrying if he'd start bleeding or not.

Eilithe sat on the bed beside him and wiped the needle with the alcohol before threading it. "Not for mistakes, or miscalculations, --not for being a piss poor wife and mother," she began her clarification. "I know better. No apologies. No excuses. Do Better.." She repeated a mantra they'd gone round and round with for years as she began to clean the wound of caked blood with one of the mostly-clean rags.

"But for making you believe that I did not care. About us. About you. That is worth saying it." Her fingers were gentle, even as she cleaned the more tender parts and began to stitch the wound.

"We.." she suppressed an over-show of emotion, knowing that if she cried it just did something to him and she pointedly wanted to avoid that. "Have really been fucking each other up these last years. Deceiving. Hiding. Fighting. Hurting each other." She swallowed and accepted that this was their way. "Even after Malik was born I understood why, but I was hurt. And now this boy that.. I know he's not ours. I ..am not trying to take him to be ours either but...when I look at him, I just see our sons. And I see you. And I just..can't." And what she meant was I just can’t kill him. 

Eilithe focused her fingers on closing up the wound, pausing for a moment to swallow down hurt. "Do you remember the last trip to the fall back, before we got married." It was an abrupt subject change.

"Parts of i'... which do you want me to remember?" He finally spoke, as though he welcomed the change in subject.  Eilithe leaned to the gauze and tape to finish the mediocre surgery. The needle was taken up again, wiped down, drawn to a third of the dose she'd given Kurel. "We stayed up all night, going room to room as we do when we're doing better than good." She injected herself between her tattooed fingers, pressed the plunger down then waited the few seconds it took for the drug to relax her whole body. She laid down and stared at the ceiling. "And I wasn't letting go of wanting to get married, and brought it up every chance I got. And you finally asked why I wanted it so bad. And I said--it's about  knowing that there's no one else. That there will never be another like the one you choose." She spoke a little slower toward the end, blinking slowly as the ceiling bubbled like water. 

"I just want you to know that for me, there's still no other. That there's never going to be another."

The silence that followed might’ve suggested Kurel had drifted to sleep, equally it could have been a silent “me too”. And she could have taken that and drifted off for the first time in days but, she'd never been very good at leaving well enough alone. "Kurel.." she said, a groggy, soft whisper. But she bid him to speak. "I can't tell if righ' now’s an appropriate time to tell you.. tha' I ... lost the ring."

The ring. The only thing he’d ever given her that had come close to a wedding ring. The ring. Which he had coaxed off her finger under the guise of a bet with Saeris a week before. 

There was a pregnant pause. The sort that often was a preface to the trigger of a gun being pulled, or a very big explosion.

And then she jiggled. First in her stomach and chest, then sound rolled out of her throat. A laugh. A genuine, and deep bellied, uncontrollable laugh.

He rarely gave more than a wry chuckle, but even at the utter ridiculousness of it he laughed too. It wasn’t nearly as long and as giddy as Eilithe, he composed himself quickly. Quick enough to place a jewelry box onto his palm and present it for her to realize. 

Eventually, she dulled down to an occasional, 'uh ha' and giggle before she let out a breath. It was one filled with relief.

It took a second, but only one of them was blind, and she knew a jewelry box when she saw it. Carefully she took it and held it up to open the thing.

"Lucky for me, I already ha' a replacemen'." He added, hearing the lid click open.

The ring itself was cast from gold. A black stone filled the cavity of a scarab beetle cage which composed its attraction with elaborate embellishments.  It was nontraditional by most standards, easily mundane to others opinions, as it lacked some customary glittery diamond piece.

For a man with not an eyeball in his skull, Kurel An'Diel had exceptional taste in jewelry. She stared at the ring, and was shocked, confused, and maybe a little emotional. When she pulled the ring out of it's bed, a realization struck her.

The first words weren't 'I love you' nor 'I love it' nor 'Thank you'. No. They were, "You conned me." Followed by a smile that only grew when she slid the ring on and it fit.

Comfortable silence came over her, staring at the ring and after her arm got tired she lowered her arm and turned. A kiss was placed against his jaw and she murmured, "Anha zhilak yera." I love you. 

"I know."

@kurel-andiel​

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

So, I just read it on Twitter and had to share it with you. “Climate change has fucked up seasons, does this mean Hades and Persephone’s deal has changed? Is she getting her cheeks smashed for longer now? Is Hades okay with random dick appointments rescheduling? Is Demeter going crazy? Is she going stupid?”

“Your mom must be going fucking nuts, huh?”

It’s 3:32 AM in the morning, the halls of the palace are fast asleep, and the only sound is the soft, muffled crackling of the eternal fires the burn just outside the large, arched window of their bedroom.

For millennia, Hades never really payed much mind to what humans were doing to the world. The wars, the bloodshed, the atrocities— it was always a part of mankind, for as long as he could remember. He’s aware that his mindset is probably do to the fact that he grew up during a time when all of these aspects were very common, so he was numb to them, to an extent.

But in all of his years of life, Harry had never witnessed humans actually be able to push the boundaries of their powers to the point where it was impacting the actual planet. 

Bombs are the obvious factor, as well as mass deforestation, oil wells, mines, and so much more. However, amidst all of these impacts humans lay upon the world, none of them had ever had a direct influence on Harry’s life. He’s sequestered so far down in the depths of the earth that humans can’t possibly reach him here without kicking it first.

That was until global warming became an issue.

Well, an issue for those who live above ground. For him, it was actually working out quite to his advantage.

He’s knows it’s a horrible thing to say but he’s already in Hell so he doesn’t really have much to lose. Actually, he has so much more to gain.

Since global warming is a direct line to climate change, all of the seasons have been thrown out of their natural order. Fall and Winter used to be strictly six months, which is when Persephone would be down in the Underworld with him. As soon as the first of the seventh month hit, it was time for her to go back to Olympus with her mother for their given time of Spring and Summer.

The end of the six month period was usually when the weather would start to warm up on the surface, resulting in Persephone having to go and take the reigns of her godly duty with Demeter. But increasing climate change has been tinkering with the technicalities for the last few years and most of the time, it’s in Hades’ favor.

It’s been two weeks into the seventh month, and with temperatures still near freezing in some areas of the world, Y/N has managed to use this as an excuse to extend her stay with Harry. And since the weather is too risky for crops to start growing, Demeter’s hands are tied in her own grape veins, much to Hades’ glee.

This brings them to where they are now, snuggling cozily under the charcoal black duvet of their humongous bed, legs intertwined as his wife cradles her head against his bare chest, the tips of his fingers tracing both of his names down the expanse of her spine.

The last two weeks had been a hell of a ride, literally and metaphorically.

It reminds Harry of how when they had first gotten married, they had been going at it like rabbits for the weeks that followed, as if the world could end any minute.

But now, it was The Weather Channel that could potentially throw a gear in their little extravaganza. They had been safe thus far into the month, so every day was a triumph, and triumphs obviously have to be celebrated.

The amount of fucking got so embarrassingly frequent, in some embarrassingly unequip places, to the point where one of the cleaning servants had walked in on them in a storage closet when Harry was supposedly at an emergency meeting on Olympus.

He doesn’t think he’s ever been more mortified then when the servant handed him a freshly cleaned towel and said, “Here, you’ll need this for when you’re finished.” before closing the door behind her.

Harry looks down at Y/N, not being able to keep a gentle smile from tickling his lips as she presses her ear over his heart, comforted by the mellow thumping that had been harsh and fast-paced a few minutes prior. He ducks down and presses a caring kiss between her sweaty brows, her skin still hot and clammy from the exertion he’d just put her through.

His voice comes out as a raspy laugh and she can feel the edges of his mouth drawing up into a sly simper against her forehead.

“She must fucking hate me right now more than ever, too.”

Y/N pinches at his tummy in a cautionary manner, but she can’t fight the amused scuff that escapes her. “It’s not like you’re responsible for the weather, though.”

Hades shrugs one shoulder, his dark emerald eyes glistening in the buttery light of the fires below that stream in through the glass window. His tone is cocky and self-indulgent.

“But I am responsible for this.” He streams his fingertips down the dip of her back and onto her ass, moving the sheets down a tad to reveal a darkened outline of his handprint. “And that’s enough to cause her to plunge the world into another Ice Age.”

Persephone fully laughs now, her eyes squeezing shut as her whole face lights up like the Northern Lights and Harry can’t resist scattering a dozen kisses all over her cheeks and nose. She just looks so fucking cute when she smiles like that.

Hades cups the side of her jaw with his fingers, thumbing over the faint dimple on her chin as he rubs his nose over the tip of her’s. Even though his plump, wine-tinted lips carry a tender, sleepy grin, she can hear the sadness weighing his words. “I don’t want you to leave.”

Persephone sighs deeply, reaching up to push her husband’s damp, chestnut curls away from his forehead, combing them back from his softening eyes as he swallows heavily, thick eyebrows furrowing as he tries to keep his emotions from registering on his face. “I don’t want to either, but I have to eventually.”

Harry nods his head emptily, the tip of his cold nose running up and down the suppleness of her cheek. “I just don’t want this to end.”

Y/N snorts lightly, trying to lift the mood of the conversation. “Yeah, I get that. Then you won’t have anyone to ride you in the bathing pool.”

She thanks the gods that it works, heart fluttering in her chest as Harry breaks out into a fit of that high-pitched laughter he does when he can’t control himself. His entire face changes for a moment, his nose crinkling upwards as the corners of his eyes wrinkle in delight.

“Am I wrong?!” She teases, poking him in the stomach and sides until his hands are fumbling for her own, his giggling intensifying when she buries her head into his neck and starts blowing raspberries against his skin.

“Okay, okay!” Harry can barely breathe, his ribs aching but in the best way and he can’t seem to stop beaming. “You’re kinda right.”

Y/N halts her attack, mouth dropping open in fake appalled shock, eyebrows flying upwards outrage. “Are you serious?!”

She tries to yank her wrists free from her husband’s large hands, but his fingers only tighten to keep her from going at him again. Persephone lays there writhing from side to side, yelling out all types of vulgar language that is gradually dissolving into bundles of banter and giggles as Harry makes kissy-faces, warning her to calm down before he “gives her a taste of her own ambrosia.”

Y/N, in the spur of the moment, mounts herself on top of Harry in a whirlwind of messy sheets, straddling his hips with her thighs and trying to tug herself free that way, but his hold is beyond godly. She releases an exasperated groan, slamming their conjoined hands down against his stomach, satisfied at the pained grunt he chokes out. “You deserve it, you prick.”

They are both still grinning from ear to ear, Y/N’s hair a tangled mess of flyaways as she slumps down in defeat against Hades’ lap, pouting and fuming jokingly.

When Harry sees his wife has come down from her bloodthirsty rampage, he slowly unclamps his fingers from her wrists, shrugging his eyebrows warningly. “I’ll pin you, babe. Behave.”

Persephone raises her own eyebrows challengingly. “Oh, yeah?”

Before Hades can react, she has his wrists crossed above his head, pressed into the mound of elegant feathered pillows below him. “How’s that, then? Turned the tables.”

Harry cocks his head to the side with an arrogant air as his bare, tattooed chest heaves alluringly. He runs his bottom lip under his top teeth as the corners turn up into a presumptuously attractive smirk, voice holding faux surrender. “You’re absolutely right, darling. I completely, totally lost. I have you sitting in my lap, naked, with a perfect view of your tits, which is the most dreadful defeat I can possibly imagine.You won.”

Y/N’s eyes narrow. It’s all a game— just for shits and giggles— but the way he’s eyeing her with that amused, conceited smirk makes her want to slap him across the face.

“You’re an asshole.” She huffs, nails digging into his wrists.

A holographic green glint flashes across the whites of Harry’s eyes, irises glowing with a watery jade hue as he mopes at her tauntingly. “Oh, but I thought I was a ‘prick?’”

Now he’s really asking for it. Practically begging for her to do something to make him take it all back. As if reading her mind, Hades flicks up a single eyebrow, and she can read his expression clear as crystal.

What are you gonna do about it?

Y/N can feel her nostrils flaring ever so slightly at the dare, and what drives it forward it that even though she is the one who is supposed to have Harry pinned down at her disposable, it looks more like he has his hands crossed behind his head, waiting for her to bend to his will.

It’s infuriatingly hot.

Something glints out of the corner of Persephone’s eye, her gaze rising until it lands on Hades’ wedding ring as it hugs his finger, the giant emerald jewel glittering in the muted amber lighting. He follows her locked stare, jaw flexing as he tilts his head back against the mattress, trying to find the target of her distraction.

His ring.

He very seldom takes it off, to the point where he has a tan line around the area. It’s his most prized possession, accompanied by his crown, his emblem, and Cerberus.

Y/N quickly wraps her fingers around it, pulling it off swiftly and holding it up above his head, sticking her tongue out at him playfully. “Good luck getting it back.”

Her plan backfires almost immediately.

She tries to swing herself off her husband to get the prize as far away from him as possible, but she had forgotten that their bodies had been tangled together in the sheets. Instead of making a speedy escape, she topples off his sideways, landing face-first into the fluffy duvet.

Harry’s muddled snickering mocks her.

The next thing she knows, Persephone is being scooped up in a pair of strong, lean arms, her back hitting the pillowy mattress and bouncing lightly. Harry’s body collapses over her’s, his hips snug between her thighs as his palms press down against the bed on either side of her head.

He moves strands of her hair away from her face, tucking them behind her ears as his face hovers over her, grin plastered all over it. “That was cute, pet. Ten-out-of-ten for effort. Execution? I’ll give you a two-out-of-ten, only because I love you so much.”

Harry shifts into his forearms, holding his left hand up and wiggling his ring finger. “Now give it back.”

“No.”

He rolls his eyes in mild irritation. “Give it back before you drop it behind the bed, you dolt.”

Y/N rattles her head in defiance, fist tightening around the obsidian ring as it remains pressed against her husband’s chest.

Harry gives her a ominous look, tilting his head to the side with a cautionary tone. “Give me my ring back before I give the other side of your bum a matching handprint.”

Instead of just giving in and returning the jewelry, Y/N decides to take the more complicated (and irrationally ridiculous) route. She pops it into her mouth.

Harry is so surprised he doesn’t blink for a few seconds. Then, he breaks out into awed laughter.

“You’re such a stubborn little thing, aren’t you? S’fucking impressive.” He shakes his head in disbelief, ghosting his index finger along her Cupid’s Bow, licking at the corner of his mouth coyly when he feels her lips twitching beneath his touch. “Now be a good girl and spit it out.”

Her words are muffled over the object. “Make me.”

A dark aura falls over Hades’ face, his hand coasting down from playing with her lips to wrapping delicately around her throat in foreshadowing. His voice is low and assertive. “You know I fucking will.”

“That’s what I’m betting on.”

Harry’s mouth curls into an evilly delighted simper. “Alright. You asked for it.”

Hades grabs one of Persephone’s knees, spreading her legs open roughly and using his own knees to keep her parted wide open. The ring finger of the hand around her throat presses against the center of her lips, the other hand wandering down and cupping her bare crotch without any warning. The two middle fingers of his right hand press deeper against her slick folds until he can feel the bud of her clit, and that’s when he starts wiggling the digits back and forth.

It starts off softly, but is quickly molding into a faster, messier, more eager pace. He usually eases her into sex because he knows how sensitive she can be down there to the point where she’ll cum without much work, but since they’re pitted against each other rather than together, dirty war strategies are expected.

Y/N’s legs act on instinct, trying to clasp shut as she feels her entire body coursing with electric shocks of sudden euphoria. However, the knees he has against her’s keeps her open, allowing him to do whatever he deems fit.

Persephone’s hands desperately grab at her husband’s, trying to get him to stop; she’d clearly overestimated her confidence level. She’d assumed he would just bury himself inside her, a strategy she knows how to fight with the right amount of willpower. But her clit is way more sensitive than anything else on her body and he’d gone in without remorse.

“T-That’s not fair! H-Harry, you can’t just— fuck, oh my God!” Her back arches up from the bed, thighs quivering as she feels deep pulses of pleasure pounding at the pit of her stomach.

Harry’s lips are flushed against her throat, placing hot, sloppy pecks across her juglar as he feels her getting wetter and wetter over his fingers. “I fucking warned you, sweetheart. I’m gonna make you cum like this, without me inside you. It’s what you deserve for being such a brat.”

“P-Please—!”

“Ring.” He growls demandingly, his second middle finger pressing harder against the center of her colored lips, the rest of his digits gripping her jaw firmly. “Now.”

It’s as if Y/N’s brain is no longer in control of her actions, her body acting on sheer adrenaline. Her mouth drops open on command, and she can feel Harry’s triumphant grin stinging across her jaw.

“That’s what I thought.”

The digit dips in and the ring slips past a third of it before Harry pulls it out. He makes eye contact with his wife, ducking down to whisper his next words across the shell of her ear.

“You’re gonna be the one to put the ring back on me.”

With everything that is happening, Persephone has no time to unravel the riddle behind Hades’ words. One of her trembling hands reaches up for his hand, trying to obey him in her drunken state of shock.

But he stops her with a light shake of his head, wet curls bouncing. “Not like that, baby.”

Harry then shifts his body over smoothly, the hand that was between her thighs slamming down beside her head to hold himself up as the hand with the ring takes its place.

In one quick, expert move, he plunges his two middle fingers inside Y/N, and the experience is almost out-of-body.

She can feel the abrupt chill of the metal ring making contact with the skin around her entrance, and then he’s slipping his digits further inside her, the ring pushing against her tight hole and running down his finger until it is snug in its rightful place. Until Harry is knuckles deep and she feels like she’s going to pass out as her senses go into overdrive.

Y/N is bucking and writhing against Hades’ hand, whimpering and whining and pleading with him to stop toying with her. To just fuck her already.

“Oh, I will, love. I’m gonna fuck you with my fingers first. Play with that spot inside you that I know drives you fucking wild. And then, I’m gonna proper raw you until you can’t even stand.”

Harry’s fingers slip out completely, only to pound back inside her harder this time, her whole body jolting upwards against the bed sheets as her throat aches with a broken yelp.

“I’m gonna make you apologize for calling me a prick—” his fingers draw out and slam back in and she’s so wet he can fucking hear it— “and an asshole—’ the same motion again, but this time she feels his teeth staining her neck and jaw with bruises— “and I’m gonna make you scream so loud, they’ll hear you all the way up in Olympus.”

And with the way he rams his digits back inside her, she knows he’ll make good on that promise.

[jjnora]

okay so ever since I saw this post by @zendayacolemann can’t stop thinking about a Little Women x ATLA crossover; particularly one where the sisters are all benders of different elements! I love the idea of families being made up of different benders. Also, I’m heavily basing my au off the 2019 film, it’s been ages since I’ve read the book. So here are a couple of my headcanons for that idea below the cut:

I imagine that the crossover would take place sometime after the LOK era, after the various kingdoms became less homogenous, and after the Harmonic Convergence brought about more airbenders. 

I don’t see the March family living in Republic City, but maybe off in a reasonably populated town some ways away. That way, instead of going to New York City to pursue writing, Jo goes to Republic City to pursue a teaching career.

Meg, the eldest, is a waterbender. Personally, Meg gives me strong Katara vibes, and she’s a very compassionate and mature human being.

Jo is obviously a firebender. With such a hot temper, I think she has a similar experience to when Aang initially lets his firebending go out of control, but learns to control it after a while.

Beth is an airbender. I diverge from the original post here, but I strongly feel that Beth is an airbender because she’s known as the peacemaker between the sisters. 

That leaves Amy to be an earthbender. I think this makes a lot of sense because in my head personality-wise, Jo is the “unstoppable force” and Amy is the “immovable object” which fits their elements really well. 

Obviously if you’re gonna have four sisters bending different elements, there’s gotta be some strong, strong bender lines in their family. I see Marmee as a firebender for sure, one that’s more mature and developed than Jo. She’s the oldest daughter of a firebender father and a waterbender mother. As for Father March, I had a harder time figuring out his element since his character is pretty minor, but I think I’d go with him as an airbender. In Little Women, he’s a chaplain serving in the Civil War, and supposedly the reason he and his family are poor is because he helped a friend out of poverty. Thus, being an airbender would fit the “spiritual” characteristic of being a chaplain, and I also see him as a part of Tenzin’s airbender team that goes around to various locations helping out people who need it (like Kai and Opal in Yu in LOK). I imagine he’d spend a pretty reasonable amount of time traveling on his flying bison, Gerda, and helping others. He’s the son of an airbender mother and an earthbender father (Bopal anyone? jk).

Even though I’ve very conveniently made the March sisters’ grandparents all different element benders as well, I think as a whole, they have plenty of aunts, uncles, cousins, and extended family that are a wild mix of different benders. There’s just a strong bending line in the March family, everybody just has a knack for marrying and having kids other benders. There’s a popular saying in the town "There hasn’t been a nonbender in the March family for ten generations.” (In reality, it’s more like 6 generations)

Aunt March is an Earthbender. I headcanon Aunt March as getting along with Amy more than her other nieces (hence why Aunt March decides to bring Amy to Europe with her instead of Jo or anyone else) which fits because her and Amy are both earthbenders. Since she didn’t have any descendants of her own, she paid close attention to the March sisters when they were young, and as soon as Amy showed signs of earthbending, she immediately became her favorite of the four.

Now for some other characters: John (Meg’s eventual husband) is a non-bender and Fire Nation citizen (You’ll see why below). I actually love how this idea plays into how Meg’s decision to be a traditional housewife and mother is at odds with what Jo wants. I think in childhood, Meg and Jo had a lot of fun with their bending, so for Meg to make a Fire Nation non-bender the most important person in her life feels like a betrayal to Jo. Keep in mind, since Jo grew up almost exclusively around strong benders, Jo definitely thinks John is boring compared to her (”He will be boring after two years and we will be interesting forever!”). Jo probably grows up with a little bit of bender superiority, but I think she’d eventually grow out of it, particularly after Beth dies, and I’ll get into that more further down. 

Laurie, Amy’s eventual husband: After some thinking, I think Laurie’s also a firebender, same as Jo. The difference is that Laurie had a lot of formal training thanks to his grandfather and being a rich kid and all that, so his firebending is much more controlled than Jo’s is. Laurie’s equally as passionate as Jo is, but as a “rich kid of society” with an overprotective grandfather, he has to keep his behavior controlled. John is still his tutor, hired to go out to this town where Mr. Laurence lives to tutor the spoiled firebender boy on his Fire Nation history. Anyway, Laurie and Jo hit it off when they meet, both being firebenders and all that. I think Laurie’s the first firebender of Jo’s age that Jo meets. Like in the original story, Laurie falls in love with Jo, but Jo rebukes him. 

Fredrich Bhaer, Jo’s eventual husband: Bhaer’s scholarly, gentle and tender, so I like to think he’s an air nomad travelling the world and learning about different cultures and people. He has his tattoos and a flying bison named Hooper. He meets Jo in Republic City, where they’re both being employed to teach at the same establishment. I think Jo eventually falls in love with him because he challenges the way she thinks and he reminds her of Beth (also an airbender!). 

That was all of the major characters, but here are a couple other ideas I had for this crossover au:

Meg and Jo both showed very early signs of bending, probably when they were around 2 years old. Marmee and Father March found out Meg was a waterbender one day when it snowed and they saw Meg bend snow into various shapes for her own amusement. They discovered that Jo was a firebender when flames shot out of the family’s fireplace one day when she was having a tantrum.

Beth was actually a late bloomer, the last of the sisters to develop bending powers. She didn’t start showing signs of airbending until she was 5 (One day she sneezed and shot herself into the air a few feet), and when she did, she kept it hidden at first. Mostly because she knew that if she was an airbender, she’d have to leave home and travel to the Air Temples for training like her father did, and she didn’t want to leave her family or home (Similarly to Beth in Little Women). She actually learns a decent amount of airbending in secret until her father catches her doing it one day, and convinces Beth that her airbending is not a bad thing, and that even though she will go to the air temples for training, she’ll always have a place at home.

Amy started showing signs of earthbending when she was 2 and teething; her parents would find rocks in her crib bent in different shapes for her to chew on. 

After Marmee and Father March find out about Beth’s airbending, they are, as they like to say, “delighted to have the full set.” News of the Four March Sisters spread rather quickly in town, especially since everybody had thought Beth to be a nonbender for so long. 

None of the girls receive any “formal” bending training aside from family members teaching them. Meg learns her waterbending skills from her maternal grandmother, and Marmee trains Jo. Jo struggles a lot at first with keeping her firebending under control, and it isn’t until she accidentally burns Amy one day that she takes Marmee’s warnings seriously. Beth is mainly trained by her father and partly by the Air nomads when she visits the Air Temples with her father, and Amy gets a lot of training from her Aunt March, especially after Aunt March decides to take Amy on a trip to Ba Sing Se and hires a certified Earthbending master (her own teacher when she was young) to teach her. All of the sisters except Beth, who dies before she gets her airbender tattoos, eventually become masters of their own elements. 

Despite Meg and Beth’s best efforts, Jo and Amy definitely destroyed their house more than once in several fights. Beth would try to blow them apart when they were fighting, and Meg would try to reign in Jo’s firebending, but it didn’t always work. Marmee would try to teach Jo to control her firebending, but it was impossible when Jo was younger. 

Jo and Meg dreamt of being on a pro bending team when they were little, and often pretended they were, until Meg got older and lost interest and Amy got old enough to start interrupting their pretend sessions and annoyingly insert herself as their third teammate. Jo never really let go of that dream, though. 

Though Father March mostly taught Beth airbending at home, they did take trips to the air temple every now and then. Beth is a really good airbender, but she doesn’t like bending in front of other people. One day she decides to accompany her father on one of his service trips to help out a distant town of non-benders in need of food and protection from bandits, and it is there where she catches the fever that eventually kills her.

Father March and Beth return home after a month, tired but happy. Beth is flushed, but really happy that she made the trip with Father March. She wants to do it more often, but unfortunately, falls ill days after returning. It’s a week later that Father March finds out that there was a small outbreak in the town they were staying in. It’s because of this that Jo develops a strong scorn for non-benders; she hates that her beloved Beth is suffering because the non-benders weren’t able to take care of themselves. This is accentuated by Meg marrying John. Beth recovers, but is still fragile, so she spends the rest of her days at home. Jo returns from Republic City when she hears of Beth being ill, and takes her to the coast to get better. It isn’t until after Beth passes away that Jo eventually understands why Beth went to help the non-benders. Beth’s death causes Jo to resolve to be kind to all people, regardless of bending ability. 

I mentioned this earlier, but Jo decides to go to Republic City to find work. She’s employed by a rich firebender family to teach their young daughters firebending, while Friedrich teaches them history. She and Friedrich get into arguments over subjective things, which element is best (Friedrich is obviously biased towards air, Jo is biased towards fire), which Firelord of the Hundred Year War was worse, Sozin, Azulon, or Ozai (Friedrich thinks it’s Sozin because of the airbender genocide, Jo thinks it’s Ozai because who burns the face of their own kid? who does that?), and lots of other fun stuff. Jo doesn’t realize how much she loves bickering with Friedrich until she returns home for Beth’s funeral. Friedrich visits the March family home shortly after, announcing that he is returning to the Eastern Air Temple, and everyone in the March family can tell that he and Jo are in love with each other and encourage Jo to catch Friedrich before he leaves on Hooper.

Aunt March takes Amy to Ba Sing Se, where she trains under Aunt March’s former Earthbending teacher. It’s in Ba Sing Se where she almost gets engaged to Fred Vaughn, a fellow earthbender from a very wealthy earthbending family. She also encounters Laurie, post Jo-rejection, who is traveling in the same city. They fight over Amy’s prospective engagement, but reconcile after they receive news of Beth’s death. 

Eventually, (mimicking the end of Little Women), Jo inherits Aunt March’s old mansion, Plumfield, and she and Friedrich turn it into a school for bender and nonbender children alike.