1 - 20 of 25 Works by FaeryQueen07
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Summary
Stiles isn’t sure where Derek and Isaac are—or Scott, now that he’s decided he no longer wants to be in Derek’s pack—when he pulls up in front of the Hale house, but they’re not who he’s looking for, not this time. Peter is on the porch by the time Stiles climbs out of his Jeep, the door with its unfamiliar mark shut behind him, and they stare at one another for several long moments.
Series
- Part 1 of Storm
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Shortly after Odin’s death, word reaches Asgard that Jötunheim has a new king as well, one with a life-changing demand if there is to be continued peace between the realms. Unwilling to ask his brothers to make such a sacrifice, Thor is left with no choice but to give up his freedom to secure the safety of his people. More than that, though, he discovers he may just have to give up his sense of self, as well.
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For the last 23 years of his life, Loki has believed himself to be a true son of Odin. A "chance" meeting in the lower part of Asgard's surrounding city leaves him reeling with shock. Hurt and betrayed by the lie he has been forced to lead, Loki lashes out in the only way he knows how; stealing prized artifacts from Asgard's vaults for Jotunheim's feared king, Laufey...and Loki's true father. Between betraying the man who raised him and finally giving over to his desire for Thor, Loki finds himself caught in the deadliest of webs. When his actions prove tragic, Loki knows he would do anything to make amends and win back his brother's love, no matter what the cost to himself.
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“You have something of mine,” Stiles says, and he reaches for his hood, pushing it back to reveal the rest of his face. Lips curled up in a smile promising pain and eyes like death, he says, “And now I’m going to take it back.”
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No matter what the situation, Arthur’s teammates—the inception team, at least—are safe from his projections. That in no way means Ariadne isn’t just the littlest bit nervous when Mal appears beside her, stunning in a low-cut gold number that has Ariadne more than a little envious.
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It’s the summer before senior year and Stiles is doing just fine. Right up until he gets shitfaced and tells a room full of drag queens that he’s attracted to an alpha werewolf and that oh, yeah, he’s been wondering about whether or not they have knots. It all goes downhill from there, but in a good way.
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“There’s a cottage,” Stiles’ mother says, and then she presses a kiss to his forehead before turning off the light.
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For the past twenty-three and a half years, Matt Farrell has been hiding what he is from everyone he knows, save the odd friend or two. Discovering, at the tender age of thirteen, that he was gay wouldn’t have been so upsetting if he didn’t already have to deal with being a low-ranking werewolf as well. But just as Matt resigned himself to a life of solitude, bigger-than-life John McClane blows into his life, and after that, nothing is the same, not even Matt.
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There’s no way to mark the time. Steve stops paying attention to when the song fades in and out, stops listening to anything other than the low, husky voice of the singer and the almost inaudible thumping of Tony’s heart.
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Goodkat pauses with the milk in one hand and a glass in the other, and just stares at the kid. At Slevin. At the one person who managed to get under his skin.
- Words:
- 2,621
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Kudos:
- 18
- Hits:
- 182
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Sometimes, sex with Matt pushes all of John boundaries, but sometimes it doesn't. Either way, it's everything John could ever want.
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The first time he sees them, John thinks, Matt would look good in—and then cuts off that train of thought feeling just a little sick with guilt.
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There's lube dripping off the bedside table from where the industrial-sized bottle—and who even knew they came that big—tipped over earlier in the evening. It's all over the sheets, splattered and drying in streaks on Matt's skin, and it's making an indecent squelching sound as John works a forth finger into him, fucking him languidly, like they have no other responsibilities than this.
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Porn. In the stocks.
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Merlin is fucking gorgeous like this: splayed out across the bed with Arthur’s cock deep inside him and his neckerchief wrapped so tightly about his neck that his whole body is pulled bow-taut with its need for air. His fingers twitch against the sheets, the muscles no longer obeying his brain's command, and suffocation battles with intense pleasure.
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Merlin, Arthur reflects, really isn't the worst manservant of all time.
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...now his work was done and Merlin was tired. Tired of protecting everyone but the one he needed most, of trying to make sure that Camelot lived on in legends even as it lay in ruins, of pretending that his heart had not died with his king, with Arthur.
- Words:
- 1,221
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Kudos:
- 13
- Hits:
- 363
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John is a wreck; splayed out on Sherlock’s bed, his body slick with sweat and the strange new lubricant Sherlock has concocted out of god-knows-what.
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There is a clock inside John’s head, quietly marking every second that Sherlock is not with him, until one day – much later – the clock stops.
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Arthur has been waiting three years, seven months and eleven days for this phone call.