#also in the fic I’m writing with my friend the son is set in stone Tyrion’s

[ruins-of-babylon]

Legacy

Mattheo Riddle x reader angst & smut

♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♥︎

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎：after your traitorous brother runs away, abandoning his carefully placed destiny, you are forced to take his place, abandoning any and all plans you had for your future.

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈：blood, main character gets cut, kinda psychopath main character at the end, fem pronouns, some smut, arranged marriage, kinda mean!mattheo, mentions of drugs and alcohol, mentions of self harm, you have a brother, let me know if I missed anything!

𝒩ℴ𝓉ℯ：how I felt writing, “it hung over your head like a halo, but it was nowhere close to holy.” : 😈

⚠︎︎⚠︎︎this fic is pretty dark. MDNI❗️⚠︎︎⚠︎︎

Your fate had been decided when you were 5 years old. It hung over your head like a halo, but it was nowhere close to holy. It was placed by your father, who was among the many servants of Voldemort, which made your role very important. You were not here for yourself, you were brought into this world for one purpose only. When he sat you down and told you this, it was hard to comprehend, your 5 year old brain not quite wrapping around the concept, but it became more and more real as you grew older. It went as followed: You would grow up, and at 20 years old you would marry the dark lord’s son, Mattheo Riddle. It would add power and influence to your family name. Your older brother, Alexander, would carry the family business along with the new generation, that ‘business’ would be working as the right hand man to the dark lord, his own private assassin. It was all set in stone, an unwavering commitment.

————

The first time you met your future husband was on the first day of your first year. He was gentler then, a mischievous but likable boy, before he turned bitter. He recognized you, having also being told his decided fate since day one, and came up to you. While you expected a handshake, maybe a hug, he instead pushed you to the hard ground before running away. The concrete dug into your soft skin, tearing your skin mercilessly. Your knees, palms, and elbows took the most damage, but his apparent dislike of you almost hurt more. You avoided him as much as possible, knowing you and him had an inevitable lifetime to spend with each other when you graduated. That, however, was hard, since you were both in the same house and had many classes together.

As the time passed, your disdain for him only grew. As he got older, his physical bullying turned to mental and emotional, plus he had earned himself the reputation as a manwhore, his ego growing too large for your liking. He was cocky, arrogant, irrational, and just a fucking dick. His attractiveness only made everything worse. You were conflicted; he clearly wasn’t attracted to you, from what you could tell, and you realized he would be a terrible husband. But god, was he handsome.

One night, you were hanging out with your friend group, which just so happened to contain Mattheo, at this moment. No one could tell where he was or would be at any given time. You all had gathered in a circle, playing truth or dare. Theodore Nott, being the annoying prick he was, picked Mattheo. He chose truth.

Theo’s exact words, “Are you happy to marry (Y/n)?” You all held your breath, his question echoed around the room as all the side conversations went silent. Everyone wondered the same question, but no one was brave enough to ask. Anticipation hung in the air, and you had a bad feeling he was going to say no.

“Not at all. I’d rather be with anyone else, but I have to be stuck with her, of all fucking people.” He said, looking at Theo as he spoke your worst fear. He made eye contact with you before continuing, “You’re the reason I’m miserable, you’ve ruined my life.” You held eye contact with him, an evil smile on his face, trying to maintain a stoic expression on your own. Your heart tensed, feeling heavy in your chest. You broke eye contact with him and stood up, waking away as calmly as you could. No one tried to stop you, or call out your name to come back. They all watched you as your feet carried you back to your room faithfully. Your vision swirled as tears brimmed in your eyes, but you wouldn’t let them fall until you were out of sight. A shaky breath of relief exited your lungs as you shut the door behind you, locking it and holding yourself as you let your body slide down to the floor against the door. The tears finally fell, a seemingly endless stream of them flowing down your cheeks, past your chin, settling on your lips. After what felt like hours, you stood up and walked towards your desk. You opened the top drawer and sorted around the various distractions you kept for moments just like these. To stay numb, you kept a small selection of drugs, small blades, a lighter and pack of cigarettes, and a few small bottles of various alcohol. You decided on a bag of fine white powder and a cigarette.

Later that night there was a knock at your door, as there usually was. You didn’t feel like opening it, satisfied to stay sitting on the windowsill blowing smoke into the night sky. But, unfortunately for you, you forgot to lock the door. As the door swung open, you didn’t even turn to look at him, already knowing who he was.

You blew out the smoke from your lungs. “What do you want?” You could hear his footsteps getting closer to you, but you still couldn’t find the energy to turn your head and look at him. His cold hand gently placed itself on your shoulder, turning you around to face him. You stared into his eyes, which looked like deep pools of honey if the sun shines just right. Now, in the darkness, they almost looked black, a probable reflection of his soul.

He held your gaze, an almost sorry look in his eyes. “You know what I say isn’t true, right?” He asks in a whisper. You nod, taking another drag of the cigarette between your fingers, looking back outside the window. His sighed, not content with your response. He took the cigarette from your hand and put it out on the ashtray next to you on the window. “Let me make it up to you.” He proposed, waiting for you to say yes.

A small smile graced your lips, “You better.” He laughed softly before picking you up and walking you towards your bed. He gently laid you down, your back on the soft mattress, taking off your clothes and throwing them down on the floor. His kisses started on your neck, your soft whines fueling his desire to please you. He moved down your body inch by inch, slowly placing his lips over your body, your collarbones, chest, breasts, torso, hips, and thighs receiving equal attention from him. He laid between your legs, slowly dragging a finger through your folds.

“My pretty girl, so wet for me.” He said, gathering some of your wetness on his fingertip before bringing it to your clit, keeping it still. Your body jolted at the stimulation, moaning for him to just move, do something. He quietly laughed at your desperation, finally moving his finger in small circles around your little bundle of nerves. “I love this perfect pussy so much.” You jumped at his actions, a whiny groan slipping past your lips. Taking his finger away from your clit, he brought it down to your entrance, slowly pushing it in as your inner walls gladly sucked him in. You grumbled at the loss of attention on your puffy clit before he replaced his finger with his mouth. He started with soft licks with the tip of his tongue, letting you relax into him, before he harshly sucked on your pearl, wrapping his lips around it. You nearly screamed from how good it felt, your legs moving around, switching between squeezing his head and opening wider, the stimulation almost too much. He laughed against you, sending delicious vibrations to your core before taking his finger out of you and pushing your legs apart. You moaned his name along with curses over and over again, almost sounding like you were worshipping him. How could you not when he made you feel so good? He switched between harsh sucks, gentle licks, and grazing his teeth against your sensitive clit, every now and then teasing your hole by pushing his tongue into it. It took almost no time before you were cumming against his mouth, breathing heavily as he drank up every last drop of your release. As you came down from your high, he pulled his body up until he was hovering right above you. His lips met yours with so much passion, so much love, you could almost believe he felt even a fraction of what you felt for him. After a moment, he pulled away.

“You’re so fucking good at that.” You told him breathlessly, savoring his chuckle. Oh how you wished he would love you. A silence settled between you, whether it was comfortable to awkward, you couldn’t tell. You just stared at each other, and you would have given anything to know what he was thinking about.

That was 2 weeks before your life would change, for better or for worse, you would find out. It was also the last time you would let him hurt you with his words. This change would start with an unexpected letter from your father:

（𝒴／𝓃）， ℐ𝓃 𝒶𝓃 𝓊𝓃ℯ𝓍𝓅𝓁𝒶𝒾𝓃𝒶𝒷𝓁ℯ 𝓉𝓊𝓇𝓃 ℴ𝒻 ℯ𝓋ℯ𝓃𝓉𝓈，𝓎ℴ𝓊𝓇 ℴ𝓁𝒹ℯ𝓇 𝒷𝓇ℴ𝓉𝒽ℯ𝓇，𝒜𝓁ℯ𝓍𝒶𝓃𝒹ℯ𝓇，𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝓇𝒶𝓃 𝒶𝓌𝒶𝓎．ℐ 𝓈𝓊𝓁𝓁ℴ𝓈ℯ𝒹 𝒽ℯ 𝓌𝒶𝓈𝓃’𝓉 𝓇ℯ𝒶𝒹𝓎 𝓉ℴ 𝓈ℯ𝓇𝓋ℯ ℴ𝓊𝓇 ℒℴ𝓇𝒹，𝒶𝓈 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓈ℯ𝓇𝓋𝒿𝒸ℯ 𝓌ℴ𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒽𝒶𝓋ℯ 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓉ℯ𝒹 𝒶𝓁𝓂ℴ𝓈𝓉 ℯ𝓍𝒶𝒸𝓉𝓁𝓎 𝒶 𝓎ℯ𝒶𝓇 𝒻𝓇ℴ𝓂 𝓃ℴ𝓌．ℋℯ 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓈𝓊𝒻𝒻ℯ𝓇 𝒶 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝓌ℴ𝓇𝓈ℯ 𝒻𝒶𝓉ℯ，ℐ 𝒻ℯ𝒶𝓇．ℱℴ𝓇𝓉𝓊𝓃𝒶𝓉ℯ𝓁𝓎 𝒻ℴ𝓇 𝓎ℴ𝓊，𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝑔ℯ𝓉 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓅𝓇𝒾𝓋𝓁ℯ𝒹𝑔ℯ ℴ𝒻 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝒸ℯ．𝒜𝓈 𝓈ℴℴ𝓃 𝒶𝓈 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝒹𝓊𝒶𝓉ℯ 𝓁𝒶𝓉ℯ𝓇 𝓉𝒷𝒿𝓈 𝓎ℯ𝒶𝓇，𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝑔ℴ 𝓉𝒽𝓇ℴ𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓉𝓇𝒶𝒾𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ℴ𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒾𝓃𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓂ℯ𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝒻ℴ𝓇 𝓎ℴ𝓊𝓇 𝒷𝓇ℴ𝓉𝒽ℯ𝓇，𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓇ℯ𝓅𝓁𝒶𝒸ℯ 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓅ℯ𝓇𝓈ℴ𝓃𝒶𝓁 𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓃 𝒻ℴ𝓇 ℴ𝓊𝓇 𝒢ℴℴ𝒹 ℒℴ𝓇𝒹．𝒫𝓇ℯ𝓅𝒶𝓇ℯ．

－ℱ𝒶𝓉𝒽ℯ𝓇

At first, it didn’t feel real. This had to have been some kind of joke, right? Alexander was so excited to take on his role, or so it seemed. As reality settled in, you started to distance yourself from everyone. You blew off your friends, preferring to stay in your dorm and wallow in self pity. It wasn’t fair. Your brother had his fate, you had yours. It was set in stone. You had almost looked forward to it at times. But not anymore. You had to suppress your emotions, adapt to this new world. You would train to become an assassin for the Dark Lord, you would destroy what you loved, everything you touched would break. For this, you had to sacrifice your feelings, tears, and longing for a life you could no longer have. You counted down the days until graduation, the time in between was hell. You left all your friends, replacing them with drugs. The time seemed to tick by slower and slower, like staring at a clock’s hands tick tick tick as they seemed to hesitate to go where you wanted.

A soft knock sounded from you door, and you had a sneaking suspicion of who it was. You didn’t know why he even bothered knocking. You never opened the door for him, nor anyone as of late. As the door slowly opened and his frame emerged from it, looking around for you. His eyes landed on your desk, slowly walking towards you to investigate. You slowly blinked at him as he watched you, clearly intoxicated. The evidence sat right behind you, the little white pills contrasting with the dark wood of your desk.

“Oh, angel,” he whispered, placing his hand on the back of your head and stroking your hair as you stared up at him. “Why?”

He was surprised when you laughed. It was mocking, cold. You didn’t feel anything for him anymore. You couldn’t. “Why are you here?” You asked him, clumsily pulling his hand from your head. Everything felt fuzzy, and you couldn’t stop chasing the feeling.

“Just wanted to check on you. You haven’t been coming to meals and your friends said you dropped them.” He answered, a seemingly genuine look of concern in his eyes.

“Haven’t you heard?” You asked him, referring to your cancelled marriage and your new role to fill.

“Heard what?” He was confused, his brows furrowed together as he anticipated your answer. You laughed again, thinking he must be joking.

“Your daddy didn’t tell you? My brother ran away so I have to take his place. And our arranged marriage is cancelled.” You state. You laugh again, everything seems so funny. Now he looks even more confused. Shock, horror, and despair run through his features as he takes it all in. Then he laughs, a nervous-sounding forced laugh.

“You finally get what you want. Lucky you.” You add, bitterly. Now, he’s silent. As you stare at his face, a sudden rage floods your veins. You stand up, facing him, and push him, your hands pressing against his muscular chest. Again, again, and again, you push him until he’s standing before your door, letting you move him. As you move to push him one final time out of your dorm, he stops moving at your will.

“Wait,” he starts. “I-.”

You interrupt him. “GET OUT!” You scream at him, balling your hands into fists and beating his chest as hard as you can, but he doesn’t seem to feel it. A cold bucket of water seems to fall on your head, everything you’ve bottled for the past weeks suddenly bursting from its cage. Tears flow freely down your face, you finally stop hitting and screaming at him, placing your palms flat on his chest and resting your head between your hands, crying into him. He gently strokes your back, holding you against him. He rests his cheek on the top of your head, comforting you.

“I’m sorry, my love,” he says. “Let it all out.” He’s so gentle, holding you, speaking comforting words, trying to make you feel better. This might be the only time you’ve ever felt truly safe and loved, and that scares you. Just as you feel the warmth in your chest, you push him away one final time, so the cold can settle in again. You slam the door and lock it, sliding down it onto the floor as he bangs against it a few times.

”Please, baby, let me in.” He says, you can tell he’s right outside. You’re tempted to open it, let him in, let him hold you and make you feel loved for the last time. But as your hand hesitantly reaches up, you stop it. It will hurt more if you let him again. The tears still fall, an added weight on your shoulders. You slowly crawl from the door to your bed, exhaustedly tucking yourself in, curling into a ball as he continues to try to convince you to open the door from the outside.

❀❀❀❀

How did I get here? You wonder as you stood before the dark lord himself, his son standing a little farther behind him. Your father’s instructions had been rather clear: tell him what he wants to hear, don’t talk back, be respectful. You fidget with your fingers behind your back, subtly wiping your sweaty palms against your pants. Your heart was beating fast inside your chest, your head pounding.

“It was such a shame that your brother ran away. Now you must take his place, revise any plans you thought you had for a life you never imagined.” He said, walking in tight circles around you. You stared at the floor in front of you.

“He made his decision, however selfish it was. The show must go on.” You curtly replied, a tone in your voice that you didn’t intend. You brought your hands back to your sides, pressing your palms to the sides of your thighs, brushing the fabric of your pants. You could feel his presence behind you, radiating a cold sort of energy that contrasted with the hot room.

“Yes, you are correct. I must inform you that your first assignment will be to hunt him down and kill him. Will that be a problem?” He asked, now standing a foot away from you to your left. You had suspected something like this.

“Not at all. My duty will always come before emotion.” You answered, hoping that would satisfy him. You still looked down, following a crack on the concrete floor with your eyes. You could feel your palms sweating again.

“Good answer, my dear.” He said, now standing directly in front of you. You brought your eyes up to meet his. “There’s one last thing I will do, then you’re official.” He finished. Mattheo stayed completely still, not a single word from him as he stood watching you. So much hung between you, there were so many emotions, words, and tension you wanted to share, say, and break.

“Anything.” You calmly replied, ready to face whatever he had for you. From his robes he pulled a dagger with a jagged blade, spurring your curiosity. As he reached for your right hand, he pulled it towards himself, facing your palm upwards. He inspected the dark mark inked on your wrist before bringing his attention back to whatever he was doing. You held your breath, waiting for him to place the knife in your hand. Several seconds passed as the both of you just stood there, his cold hand grasping your wrist as you nearly shook from anticipation. He briskly pulled his hand up, and as you stared at your reflection, you felt a wave of some emotion you couldn’t name flood your bones. As you began to prepare to be pierced by his blade, he instead rested it in your hand. Just as you breathe your sigh of relief, he rotates the blade slightly and slices right through your palm, a deep and forceful cut. The blade must have been very sharp; It seemed to glide through your skin with little effort. The pain hits you all at once, a stinging sensation emitted from the wound. You gasp, sucking in a sharp breath, and bite your lip hard enough to pierce the delicate skin, now bleeding.

Blood poured from the wound like a fountain as you took it all in. All the pain, all the feeling, all the blood, flowing down your wrist and soaking the ground below you. You couldn’t close your eyes. That was the moment you knew this would suit you. The sight of your blood flowing from you satisfied an itch deep inside. You craved it, again and again, ready to devote your life to the craft assigned to you by cruel karma, god, the universe, or whatever you want to call it. Although, it was right. This is what you were born for. This is what you will die for. In fate’s eyes, you watch yourself. ‘This is me.’ Is all your reflection seems to say.

This is me.

𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷

Hello lovelies! I hope you enjoyed. I’m thinking of doing a part two about Mattheo’s POV, so let me know if you’d like that! <3

[descendantsramblings]

Hi! I literally LOVED your morgie fic! I was just wondering if I could maybe request something like the siren scene from sinbad where reader is sailing with hook and his crew and they all become like entranced by the sirens and reader saves the day and at the end hook is like super proud of her? Sorry if that made like no sense😭

Ahh! I won’t lie I’ve never seen Sinbad so I had to go watch the scene but now I’m gonna have to watch the whole movie. I’m taking some creative liberties obviously to avoid making this toooo much like the movie but I literally LOVE the concept of this. Also, I made the reader Harry’s mom in the future, I hope that’s okay but I wanted to make a fic of them reminiscing when Hook sells the Jolly Roger to Uma anyway so I kinda used this as a “two birds one stone” situation. You made perfect sense, Baby, don’t you worry!

Also!! I saw that crowpickingss also got a very similar request and i didn't read his yet because I was scared of accidently getting inspiration from it, just to be clear.

Call of the Sirens

Captain James Hook x Pirate!Reader

Pronouns Used: she/her/hers

Summary: Hook and his wife retell the tale of when she saved a whole pirate crew from the song of sirens.

Warnings: a touch of swearing, the pirate crew is a little sexist to the reader, sirens are their own warning around these parts, death mentions but mainly in passing, concubine mention, pet names but with my writing that's basically a given, underage alcohol mention

Word Count: 2.2K

     “I just can’t believe you’re selling the old girl,” she shakes her head as she speaks, looking over the ship she’d loved so much in her youth. The body of mighty oak and rope that held the hand of her wanderlust way of life until it landed her behind the barrier of the Isle, deeming her one of the lost simply by being in the Captain’s crew. (Y/n) loved being a pirate, the salty spray that seemed to constantly coat her skin and hair, the rum and laughter on warm nights, the adrenaline rush when something would begin to go wrong. Everything about being a member of the Jolly Roger’s crew set her heart on fire. Even if it did get her deemed a villain, it gave her more than life outside the barrier ever could. 

    “Darling, she’s run her course with us,” he sighs, strutting across the deck to lovingly cradle his wife’s face, “Time for her to host a new set of teenager’s wanderlust egos has come so we can grow old together.” She looks over his shoulder as her son and his two best friends inspect the ship, the niece of their old dear friend seeming to glow as she studied the old body of the boat. “I’m surely going to miss this boat, she was too good to us.” He hums, shaking his head as he can’t fight the smile that threatens his features, “She got us into a world of trouble.” The comment leads the teenagers closer to them, Harry leading as he gets closer to his parents. “That’s not fair and you know it,” (Y/n) shakes her head as she raises a finger to tap against his nose, “You got us into all that trouble, not the Jolly Roger.” “If I remember right,”  he dips her down, smirking down at the glare of the sun on her face, “You seemed to be the one getting us out of it. A right hero you were, aye?” 

      Harry cringes as his father leans down to place a teasing kiss on his mother’s lips, letting out a forced gag that anyone who knew the Hooks would know was playful. “Sounds like Mom was the Captain then.” It causes Hook’s head to snap up, glaring daggers at his son. “I’m the captain, I will always be the Captain. Your mother was just the best under pressure.” She laughs, standing back up and walking to her son, brushing off his shoulders and fixing his collar as she speaks, “I wasn’t even first mate, your father would’ve never let me in on the action by choice. But someone had to keep an even mind on the old girl, you wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t. The two of us would’ve been well past dead before we even turned eighteen.” She shoots a look back at her husband, taking in the adoring look on his face as he watches the two of them, “Especially that one.” 

     “Had I not been so scared to lose her, she would’ve made a fine first mate,” his hook slinks around her waist, looping into a belt loop as he kisses her cheek. “You threatened it once.” “Aye,” he turns his attention to his son and his friends, truly making a show of the exchange, “I’ve never been so proud of her. Saved me and our whole crew.” Harry nods, looking between them, “So the day that I was born would be second?” Hook waves his good hand, “Third.” It catches him a swat to the chest, leading him to chuckle. “Darling, tell them about the sirens.” 

   “Sirens? You faced sirens?” Uma stares at the woman as if she’s the coolest thing on the seven seas, wide eyes aglow with excitement, “No one faces sirens and lives to tell the tale.” The woman smiles, shaking her head, “We wouldn’t have, if the siren song worked on women, or dogs.” “Dogs?” Harry looks at her with confusion, “We used to have a dog?” “I used to have a dog, Cocktail. He was the best dog a girl could’ve had, bless him. They took him from me when we got put on the Isle.” The kids watch her intently, each taking a seat on the deck like dominos falling in a line “Well, get on with it Momma.” 

                                  🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼

     Caves were never her thing. Open waters, lagoons, abandoned islands, she’d take anything over sailing through caves. “James,” her voice is soft as she approaches him, hand slipping onto the steering Captain’s shoulder, “You know how I feel about caves.” She hated to sound whiny, weak. She gave the crew enough reason to think she didn’t belong there. Certain members of the crew even spoke to her as if she was nothing more than James’ concubine. But caves had an evil air to them that the girl couldn’t stand. Nothing good ever came from one, and she was positive that one of these days one would crash in on them. The unstable caverns tended to do so to overzealous explorers.

      “Yeah, Captain, you know she’s too much of a scaredy cat to go through a cave. She’s gotta whine the whole time, in case it gets her,” Starkey teases, rolling his eyes before turning back to his conversation with Turk. She glares daggers at him; next time Tick tock came by she wouldn’t think twice about tossing his brutish ass overboard. Let the creature have him instead of the captain. “It’s just the fastest route, Darling. We’ll be out of here in no time,” he pays no mind to his crew as he addresses her worries, sending her a cocky grin over his shoulder. She sighs, giving him a nod as she goes back to her previous seat on the deck of the ship, Cocktail resting his head back on her thigh as she did. Her hand finds its way to the top of his head, nails scratching gently against his skin as she tries to think of anything but how uncanny the cave was. With its muggy atmosphere and dark edges. Rigid calcium buildups hanging from the ceiling with sharp rocks jutting out the water. The air around her smelt dank and the dripping of water from the ceiling's build ups coupled with the odd harmony that hung in the air was enough to drive her insane. 

      The harmony? Since when did caves have their own harmonies? What is that sound?

She gets up to head back over to her lover, Cocktail hot on her heels as she does. “Aye, Captain?” He hums, seemingly not paying attention to her. “Do you hear that? There’s something off about this cave.” She waited for another snarky comment to come from the rest of the crew but nothing does. Carefully, as her hand finds its foundation on James’ shoulder, her eyes scan the deck. Every man on the ship seemed to stare off, a strange haze taking over their faces. Cocktail begins to bark at her side, nose pointed at the edge of the ship in alert.  She looks back to James, the same haze over his face, hand losing the grip he had on the steering wheel. Something about this place was entirely wrong; cursed. That’s what it was, there was some sort of black magic that hung in the air around the place. She just couldn't quite put her finger on what it was.

    (Y/n) grabs hold of the steering wheel, holding it steady as she looks around in the water. Faint ripples and flashes of large black and deep violet tails. The melody began to make sense, and she took a moment to wonder how the group had been lucky enough to avoid the creatures until now. Never the wisest in their adventures. Seems it was catching up to them now. 

   “Captain,” she bumps his hip with hers as she speaks, earning no response from his statuesque form. “James,” her fingers snap in his face, not stirring so much as a blink from the boy. “Mr. Smee?” He’s looking over the edge of the ship, blowing a kiss to one of the creatures in the water. “Starkey? Tusk?” Nothing, they were all entranced. Everything had to fall on her now, the realization of it all making her stomach feel as if it was in her throat. Heart beating so loud that it sounds like cannon fire between her ears as she pushes James off of his post. Lip between her teeth as she catches the wheel again, attempting to pull it steady from the way his body weight had swung it right. 

    Water splashes over the sides of the deck from where the sirens beckon to her crew,  the men heading further to the edge as they do. She was losing them, and Hades as her witness (Y/n) was not ready to lose the crew that she’d learned to see as her own twisted form of a family. She leans down as far as she’ll allow herself to, “Cocktail, baby, you're going to have to help me here.” Her fingers grasp around a rope, tossing it to her beloved pet, “Go 'round the deck.” The mastiff takes off, dashing forward with the rope clenched between his teeth, wrapping the crew up in the harsh lead. It was rough, surely something that would catch her hell later, but it was tight enough to stop them. “Good boy, my god, you’re such a good boy.” She calls, focusing her energy back onto steering the ship. She could see the exit of the dreadful dugout now and if she could just avoid the rock to her left they’d be out free. Sirens hated the daylight, thank Merlin she’d remembered to attend class that day. 

     As she focuses on steering she notices the rise of something maroon in the corner of her eye. James making his way to the edge of the ship, the song getting louder as the siren realized she’d soon have control of the ship’s Captain. And (Y/n), unsure whether it be from love or jealousy, could not let that happen. “Cocktail,” her voice is stressed and jagged, catching the dog’s attention as his head tilts. “Go get Hook!” The large ball of fur barrels forward, entrapping the man’s good arm between his jaws. It solicits a sharp gasp from the pirate, Hook attempting to rip his arm from the dog’s mouth with little success as he tries to reach forwards for the dreadful creature calling out to him. Instead, Cocktail throws his head back, sending the boy stumbling into (Y/n). His lips crash against hers but it’s not right. Sloppy and hazy, like a kiss after a few too many drinks. If only true love’s kiss could work on a siren’s song, she’d have help instead of his dead weight pressed against her. It makes her feel uneasy, shoving her boyfriend off of her as she attempts to regain control of the wheel he’d knocked astray yet again. Just a few hundred more feet and one ugly jagged rock until she’d be far enough into the light that the creatures would lose their control on her ship’s crew. She was almost there. 

     What (Y/n) had no way of knowing  was that there would be a waterfall at the end of the cave. The girl making it all the way to the edge just to plummet to the lower seas. Body being thrown to the ground and on top of the captain's, holding her breath as she waits for the worst. The way their bodies all slam back into the deck as the ship’s hull hits the water again seems to stir something in the crew. Hook sitting back up with a firm grip settling on her, hand ghosting over her cheek. “What the hell happened?” She only laughs, grabbing his face and kissing him as if she was never coming up for air. (Y/n) could feel the stress melt from her shoulders as she leaned further into the boy’s lips, near whining against them. He’s the first to pull back, brows furrowed as he stares into her eyes. “My love, what happened.” She shakes her head, “You drove us into a siren’s lair is what happened,” a soft slap falls to his chest, “No more caves.” Each word is said as if it's punctuated, an accusatory finger hitting his chest as she says them.

     “I hate to agree with the girl,” Starkey sighs, attempting to undo the rope around him and the rest of the crew, “But no more caves, Captain.” The statement is followed by the rest of the crew, each member seeming to suddenly share the girl’s hatred of caves. “Alright alright,” he pushes her off his lap to stand as Cocktail makes his way over to his owner. “No more caves. Though,” he looks around his ship, nodding in approval, “It seems you may have a rival for first mate, Smee. My girl did a darling job of taking care of my ship and my crew, look at this.” He looks to her with a genuine smile before leaning down to untie his crew, “A marvelous job, Darling.” Starkey glares at the Captain, a breath of jealousy in his eyes, “Says the man who doesn’t currently have rope burn.” The comment earns him a hook under his chin, Hook’s eyes squinting as they look into his own, “I’d watch your mouth matey. Seems to me that she just saved your life.” 

[x-populuxe]

First-lines-of-fic meme! I was tagged by @destinationtoast. 😘

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written fewer than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.

So...I have published ten fics total, and rather than posting the first lines of every single one of them, I’m going to mix this up and do my five most recent as well as my five current WIPs, because I have somehow become a person with five substantially written WIPs, I cry. (This is clearly an attempt at public accountability, help lol).

All fics are X-Men, of course, and unless otherwise marked, Charles/Erik:

Published!

1. “to put the world between us” (25K words, actor AU)

The drive should take two hours, but Erik manages it in ninety minutes, using his powers to floor the gas pedal as he scrambles the occasional police scanner. When he whips into the hotel parking lot in a spray of gravel, Emma’s mental greeting is half is half warm, half weary.

2. “Unlived Histories (The Double Vision Remix)” (18K words, remix, time travel)

Erik didn’t know it then, but everything started to change on Charles’s sixteenth birthday.

3. “Correspondence” (13K words, part of a canon-divergent series set in 1963)

When Charles wakes, he stretches out his mind and then his arm, groping at the opposite side of the bed. Erik isn’t there, though the sheets are still warm.

4. “What We Inherit” (20K words, David & Charles, father-son bonding)

David first starts to suspect that something’s up when his father gets a phone call very early on Tuesday morning.

5. “the way it travels in and keeps emitting light” (29K words, accident and recovery, enemies to friends to lovers)

Erik lets himself into Raven’s building on Friday evening, waving a hand as the locks click open. As he rides the converted freight elevator up to the top floor, he sinks his powers into all those sturdy old pulleys and gears—one thing on the long list of reasons he prefers Raven’s apartment to his own.

WIPs!

(obviously these are not set in stone)

1. The “Charles bailing Erik out of jail” fic I am currently writing for @ikeracity for Fandom Trumps Hate! (Ike you get a sneak peek lol) (ps I'm legit obsessed with writing this fic rn, thank you again for your prompt):

 “One phone call” is only a thing in the movies—but the cops don’t give you unlimited phone calls, either. This turns out to be a problem when all your friends were either arrested alongside you or are completely fucking worthless.

2. Multiverse/time travel fic that begins 8 months after the events of XMFC:

They’re moving quickly through the woods that surround the facility when Emma slows and makes a clicking sound with her tongue. Erik holds out his arms to halt the rest of the group.

3. Sequel to “What We Inherit,” still about David & Charles, but also with some (semi-hostile) cherik as well:

It’s a beautiful late-summer day, with a bright blue sky stretching above the sandy dunes that extend from the house out towards the Atlantic.

But David can’t see any of that right now, because he’s sitting in his bedroom, reading a book.

4. Media AU (trust me, this first line makes sense in context lol):

DAVID REMNICK: This is The New Yorker Radio Hour. I’m David Remnick.

5. Big Billions AU I started writing in early 2020 🥲 that I’ve finally picked up again this year:

Crowds, the common wisdom goes, are one of the truest tests of a telepath’s strength and skill. Never mind that there’s far more to telepathy than brute force and blunt shielding—with a packed train or a busy bar or a stadium full of revelers, it’s easier to see just how effectively a person can block out other minds.

This is a fun exercise, especially to look at patterns! Tagging @rozf, @gerec, @ikeracity, @midrashic, @joshriku, @arcanewinter, @jackyjango, + anyone else who wants to do this! (If anyone else wants to put their WIP opening lines out there, join me!!!!)

[perexcri]

Percyyyyy I am a crying mess on the floor. My son! My poor poor son. Even in this universe he cannot escape the shadows.

(Why did the Ministry have that thing in its basement/cellar?????)

This puts a Lot of the first parts into context 😭 Will trying So Hard to not use Too Much magic—as well as being unable to help himself using it around Mike.

‘It was guilt, and it plagued him up the stairs to his room even with Mike’s arm around his shoulders, hanging around him like a cloak he could never shake off. It didn’t help that his best friend was right next to him all the way up the stairs, and for several hours, before the shadows finally took him in their arms into the realm of dreams, he faced the stone walls and felt only wave after wave of guilt and despair. This was all his fault, and there was nothing he could do; everything was broken, and there was no way to put it all back together.’ Ow ow. Written too well! Even before I read your author’s note I could tell that this was somewhat an allegory for depression because I Felt this whole section of the chapter and especially this paragraph. (I’m so sorry you were feeling so low while writing this I understand what its like. I hope you are feeling better now, and if not I send you sunshine and good vibes and hot tea!)

‘I meant it when I said always.’ Michael stabbing me in the heart ow I’m face down on the floor in tears.

I wish they will be able to escape even though I know they won’t. They just,,, deserve to be happy. But that happiness is likely far off for them:((

As always you make magic with your words! I hope you’re having a wonderful week!!

i apologize for the tears Vee T_T please accept these hearts as my humblest and sincerest of apologies 💜💜💜

ooooh yeah and the shadows in the basement cellar - i think my original intention for that was just to have them represent kind of what i think (in a lot of ways) the upside down represents in the show? like to me, the upside down in the show kind of works as this metaphor for things below the surface of a typical small american town that emphasize its seedy underbelly, like the upside down is literally these things that are poisoning the town yet most of the town refuses to address. idk if that makes sense (i just woke up and am very tired lol) but i guess i kind of wanted it to show in this fic that the ministry isn't being entirely truthful and that they, like any other institution in this setting, are potentially doing a lot of harm that nobody is really addressing. they have secrets like everybody else despite the fact that they want to act like they're above it all

ahh but i'm so glad it's helped put the first couple of parts more into context!! i love when stories are told non-chronologically specifically because you find out the context for certain scenes much later, so it makes me happy to know i was able to write something that did that T_T

and ahhhhhh thank you friend!! i am feeling much better, but i will always accept sunshine and hot tea from others :] i'm both sorry that it could be relatable for you to read about (because yeah dealing with that is Not Fun), but i'm also glad you could find some understanding in it?? idk something something "we read to know that we are not alone" something something

AND OH MY GOSH WAIT THE ALWAYS LINE - i added that thing very last minute (by my standards at least, which means it was mid-afternoon when i added it and i posted this chapter at night aksjflkdjsal), so i'm glad you liked it!! i thought it was a nice addition, but also painful considering,,,well. you know.

yeah the inevitability of everything is weighing heavily upon these two right now T_T there's just one chapter left in this part, and i think you can already tell what's gonna happen. i did tag this fic as angst with a happy ending for a reason, though, so please just bear with me through the pain!!

Vee your words mean the world to me :] 💜 i hope you're having a great week too, and i am sending you lots of warm soup!! 💜💜💜

[saltybenchday]

Ahh! A year ago today I posted my first fic. I’m so damn grateful for all I’ve learned in the last year, and for the community I’ve found in and around the world of fic writing. If you write, read, kudos, comments etc. I am also so grateful to you for making the community what it is 🤍

8 11 fics, and 124,004 166,427 words (and counting!) later, I can’t imagine ever not writing. I also figure this is a good time to assemble AO3 links to what I’ve written in one spot, as a little ficaversary treat to myself, you’ll find that below the cut.

As always, read the tags and if its not your jam, no worries!

Cheers friends, keep reading, keep writing- I’m so proud of us 🤍

Auroras and Sad Prose Outlander

A possible alternative to what happen toward the end of Scottish Prisoner, after the duel. Making their way back north to Helwater, the tension that has built up between Lord John Grey and Jamie Fraser eventually reaches a breaking point, with delightful results. Jamie/John, M, Words: 11,447

A Fiery Oath (Part 1 Between The Lines Series) Outlander

Jamie Fraser asks Lord John Grey to pledge his oath during the gathering at Fraser's Ridge. Jamie/John, T, Words: 1,221

Come Back to Me Outlander

After a duel, Lord John is badly injured and near death, Jamie makes a heartfelt confession to him. Jamie/John, M, Words: 1,460

Hope in the Shadows (Part 1 Hope & Daylight Series) Outlander/Black Sails

On their way to carry delicate information to Jamaica, Lord John Grey and his step-son William are set upon by pirates. Through a series of misfortunes, misadventures, and occasional stupidity, they find themselves immersed in the world of piracy on the high seas. Eventually, William and Lord John come to learn that heroes and villains are not always what they seem, and that sometimes friendships can be forged in the most unlikely of places. Outlander X Black Sails Crossover, Lord John Grey/James Flint, William Ransom, Long John Silver, M, Words: 51,532

Wee Beasties of Jamaica Outlander

Jamie Fraser is very afraid of snakes, Lord John Grey, of spiders. Jamaica was perhaps not the best place for either of them, but together they’ll muddle through. Jamie/John, E, Words: 4,825

Would You Ask For More (Part 2 Between The Lines Series) Outlander

After tragedy strikes, Lord John brings news to Frasers ridge in hopes that he might be able to provide some comfort to the family. In the end, he brings a great deal of comfort, though in a much different manner than he had imagined. Jamie/John, E, Words: 2,798

Through the Fog Outlander

Lord John Grey is on the road to Aberdeen to tend to family business when his horse spooks and throws him from the saddle. He suddenly finds himself very far away from where he was going, running away from the Wild Hunt and right into the arms of Jamie Fraser. Jamie/John, E, Words: 4,003

Chase the Stars 'Til Daylight (Part 2 Hope & Daylight Series) Outlander/Black Sails

After learning that Thomas Hamilton is alive, Lord John Grey enlists the help of Jamie Fraser to attempt a daring rescue. Complications occur and the two friends are forced to journey to Nassau and back in an effort to reunite Hamilton with his lost love, a task that turns out to be easier said than done. Between storms and shipwrecks, vengeful pirates, and scheming redcoats, they face hardships that test their friendship, and put their lives at risk. In the end, choices are made that will change their lives forever. Jamie/John, Jamie/Claire, Flint/Hamilton, John/Flint (past), M, Words: Words: 78,744

Sweet Nothing (Part 3 Between The Lines Series) Outlander

It is Lord John Grey's last night on The Ridge before returning to England, and Jamie Fraser finds himself restless and awake. Going in search of whiskey, what he finds is much better. Jamie/John, T, Words: 2912

Pas De Trois Black Sails

Miranda and Thomas teach James how to dance. James/Thomas/Miranda, T, Words:1821

Infinite & Inevitable Outlander

After coming across a set of standing stones, Lord John Grey finds himself on Fraser's Ridge, but absolutely nothing is as he remembers it. Meanwhile, Jamie Fraser has a surprise visit from his best friend, only Lord John seems to believe there's much more to their story. Jamie/John, Jamie/Claire, M, WIP

[wicked-mind]

All Writings Masterlist

All Writings Masterlist

Here is where you will find all of the stories I have written.

Please do not rewrite or copy my works.

Please do not repost them on any platform without my written permission. 

Please read the warnings posted at the top of each one-shot/chapter. It’ll tell you what the fic contains and please do not read my works with smut if you are under 18.

I am also pretty new to posting my creative writing so if you have any feedback, please let me know with a quick message. I am also open to requests (:

I try to post something every few days but I don’t really have a schedule so just be on the look out for new chapters/posts. I also have way too many thoughts and stories in my head to just focus on one series at a time, so I apologize if I seem sporadic (:

Happy Reading!

_____________________________________________

Bucky Barnes

One Shots

The Ghost of You (One-shot)

Summary: Y/N pulled Bucky out of a lot of dark places after Steve was gone. But when Y/N dies on a mission, he starts seeing her ghost. Is she haunting him for her death, or is she here for some other reason?

Gravity (One Shot)

Series Summary: Y/N is everything to Bucky and Bucky is everything to her. But when the snap happens and Bucky disappears, how will Y/N cope without him?

Sunshine Girl (One shot)

Summary: As much as Bucky tried to keep his feelings in check when it came to Y/N, it was becoming more difficult everyday. But Y/N has a boyfriend who she has been committed to for five years so he’s respectfully kept the part he had been given of being her friend. When Bucky returns from a mission to find out that Y/N’s relationship came to end while he was away and that she’s been a sulking mess, he’ll do anything to bring out the sunshine in her.

Humanity (One shot) (Vampire!stucky x vampire!reader)

Summary: Y/N was the only girl Steve and Bucky both loved, and when vampires love, it’s for life. But in the 1940’s when Steve and Bucky go to war to make amends, they leave Y/N alone as a human and unprotected. By the time they make it back nearly 80 years later, both think Y/N is dead until they come face to face with her.

Always and Forever (One shot)

Summary: Bucky met the love of his life in 1942 and she lost him in 1945. 

The Forgotten One (One shot) (Steve x reader x Bucky)

Summary: Steve and James inherited the Red Star mob from Obadiah Stane who considered them his sons. Little did Obadiah know that his niece, Y/N, had the two wrapped around her finger. But Obadiah took care of that problem without even realizing it.

Once More With Feeling (One shot)

Summary: When Steve brings an enhanced human with the ability to sense and manipulate emotions/feelings to join the team, she has an immediate interest in the puzzle known as James Bucky Barnes. And Bucky can’t help but be infatuated with her abilities and eventually her.

Last Love (One shot- AU)

Last Love Part Two (Ending)

Summary: Based on the quote “He may be your first love but I intend to be your last” by Klaus Mikaelson in TVD.

From The Ashes (One shot)

Summary: The last time you saw Bucky and Steve was in the 1940’s. Now that you’re somehow in the present with them confused on how, the truth is going to come out eventually.

Fire and Gasoline (One-shot) Fire and Gasoline - Alternate Ending (One shot)

Summary: Break-ups are hard. Especially when the cause of the break-up is the man of your dreams cheating on you. But what’s even worse… You both still love each other.

One Rule (One-shot)

Summary: There’s one rule you’ve set for each other in your relationship with Bucky. Always say I love you back to each other. 

I’m Broken, Too. (One-shot)

Summary: Steve goes back in time to put the infinity stones back where they belong in time. Although he doesn’t return, leaving his twin sister Y/N and best friend Bucky behind. 

Find me (One-Shot)

Summary: Bucky finds his peace with Sam in Louisiana after dealing with the Flag Smashers. But when nightmares of a woman he can’t remember start haunting him, he has to find the reason why.

Snips (One-Shot)

Summary: You are assigned as Bucky’s partner. These are moments or as I like to call them, ‘snips,’ of moments together.

The Angel and Devil On Your Shoulder (One-shot)

Summary: One day you wake up with an angel and devil on your shoulder. And for some reason, they like to air all your feelings out to the one person you’re trying not to like. Bucky.

The Night We Met (One-Shot)

Summary: When Sam catches you and Bucky making-out in the truck, he has some questions. The most important one being how you two met.

Read to Me (One-shot)

Summary: Bucky finds a new type of peace when you read to him.

Fast and Slow (One-shot)

Summary: Falling in love with Bucky was fast for both of you. Losing you, however, made time stop for him until he found you again. 

Promises (Stucky x reader One-Shot Request)

Summary: You have been in a relationship with Bucky and Steve for a while and it’s been great. Until they start to get reckless on missions, expecting you to just heal them with your healing ability when they get back. What they weren’t expecting is for you to lose your shit about it.

Take It Back (One-shot)

Summary: Bucky made a mistake asking you for some time apart and now he’s going to get you back.

Don’t Turn Out The Light (One-shot)

Summary: After over one hundred days in darkness, Bucky helps you find the light again.

Documentary (One-shot)

Summary: The team is watching a documentary about the avengers and its centered on Bucky, his girlfriend, and you.

Double Agents (Stucky x you) (One-shot)

Summary: You found your soulmates in Bucky and Steve, but what happens when you have to slip back into your past as an undercover Hydra agent to protect them?

Sneak Peek: The Devil and I (devil!bucky x reader) (To be released soon...)

Summary: A deal has been made and the bargaining chip is you.

Okay? Okay. (soft!mob!bucky)

Summary: The powerful James Buchanan Barnes loves you, but has kept his business a secret from you. Unfortunately, you find out when a rival of his finds you.

Sneak Peek: Love story (soft!mob!bucky) (To be released soon...)

Summary: You and Bucky were destined to be. The best love story ever written. But like every good love story, there are some hiccups along the way.

Nerves

Summary: Bucky has a crush on you but doesn’t know how to go about it. Especially since you and Natasha seem so close.

Best friends? Nah. (+18)

Summary: Classic best friends don’t realize feelings for each other until someone points it out.

Series

Betrayed (Series on hold)

Series Summary: Everybody thought Steve’s sister had passed away decades ago. But when you show up at the facility and try to attack Bucky, there are questions to be answered.

Spark (Series on hold)

Summary: Y/N and Damon were apart of a Hydra experiment for over a decade until they escaped. When power outages through towns along with bodies of murdered Hydra agents start popping up across the country, Y/N becomes Bucky’s mission.

Soulmates (Potential Series)

Summary: Soulmates are connected on a deeper level emotionally and physically. They can feel what the other needs and wants. As hints, the universe grants tattoos on your skin to help you find your soulmate when you’re about to meet them. When Bucky’s soulmate tattoo appears out of the blue, he knows that she is about to come into his life, but the way she does is not what he was expecting.

The King and Queen (Series in progress)

Series Summary: Y/N is the Queen of Guns and James ‘Bucky’ Barnes is the King of New York City. She wants him as a buyer, but Bucky wants her to be his queen. After all, every King needs a Queen. (This is an alternate universe story.)

Remember Me (Series in progress)

Series Summary: Y/N and Bucky were the unlikely match when it came to love, but they were inseparable since they met. After a fight, Y/N left to be a trauma surgeon in the military and returns without her memories. How will Bucky remind Y/N how she is the fire in his bones? (AU story)

The Wolves Next Door (Series in progress)

Summary: Sam has some new neighbors and there is something weird about them.

The Past and Future (Series in progress)

Summary: Bucky has finally found his soulmate, but isn’t ready to be with you quite yet. But when the Winter Soldier returns and comes looking for you, he may not have a choice but to face his feelings.

Recovery (Series in progress) (Biker AU)

Summary: After going through rehab and recovering, you move back to town to live with your mother as you sort out what to do with your life, but your mom has other plans that include hooking you up with a hot biker by the name of James ‘Bucky’ Barnes.

Requests:

Song Requests:

Send me a song and I’ll write a story based on it (:

Cowboy Like Me - Bucky x Natasha

Pirouette by Chiiild - Natasha (In progress)

Love Me by Elvis Presley - Steve x reader (In progress)

Cult of Dionysus by Orion Experience - Tyler Lockwood (In progress)

[jasontoddswhitestreak]

something more

(originally posted by alpha-bug)

summary: where pietro confesses his feelings to you without actually confessing them to you, through a necklace. inspired by this prompt list.

content warning: pietro maximoff x fem!reader (i’ll try to write more gender neutral fics in the future!) obviously set in a world where he survives and civil war doesn’t happen. (friends to lovers, mutual pining and pietro being a sap.)

note: okay so this is my first fic in a while so i’m sorry if this sucks </3 i want to write more pietro/peter fics so please send requests ! (also lemme know if you can guess the movie bucky was confused about !)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

masterlist

"You're staring." Wanda points out, idly watching the older twin stare at the person who clouded his thoughts, not that Wanda needed to read his mind to know that.

"Don't you have something better to do?" Pietro scoffed, unwillingly looking away to glance at his sister. She chuckled, turning away from her brother to check on the pot on the stove, before continuing to chop the vegetables scattered on the chopping board.

"Don't you?" She simply asked, humming to the song playing out loud from her phone, Pietro's eyes were drawn back to you.

You were explaining the plot of a movie to Bucky who stared at the screen in pure confusion. "I don't get it? He killed her but he loved her?" Bucky asked you, in response you shook your head exasperated. "You saw her give birth right after, how could she be dead if she was naming her kids Buck?" You asked, glancing up when you heard the footsteps of someone approaching you.

"You're not replacing me with this old man, right?" Pietro teased, moving to sit next to you, reclining back on the couch, arm around your waist. You rolled your eyes at what he said, automatically leaning into him as the three of you continued to watch the movie playing on the big screen in front of you. The two of you barely noticed when Bucky decided to leave, too caught up with one another to bother caring about what's going on in your surroundings. You pushed him away from you when he tried to steal the m&ms you were currently snacking on only for him to pour most of the packet into his mouth.

"You disgust me Maximoff." You scoffed, biting back the smile forcing its way up. "And you love it Prinţesă." Pietro retorts, his eyes meeting yours. You opened your mouth to say something but nothing could come to mind, it was common for Pietro to randomly call you nicknames but that doesn't mean you were used to it, especially when he'd use pet-names.

Your friendship with Pietro came as a surprise to the rest of the Avengers years ago due to the differences in your personality but if you asked any of them what they thought about your friendship now they'd complain about how clueless the two of you are to the other person's feelings.

Somehow in the chaos that the two of you called your 'friendship', the line between platonic feelings and romantic feelings blurred. Pietro isn't the type of guy to steer away from romance but this situation was entirely different to anything he experienced. He cant just tell his closest friend that he loved you, he couldn't tell you how when he holds you in his arms it pains him to let go. How could he tell you that? After everything that happened to him in the past, the wall he built around his emotions to protect himself began to crumble and you were the cause of it. Pietro always struggled to talk about his feelings, his past. He felt the urge to protect himself and his twin from anything that could hurt them, he didn't want to make the same mistake again.

The unintentional movie night led to the two of you continuing to hanging out in Pietro's room hours later. It was your nightly ritual to watch an episode or two of a show that Pietro usually wouldn't want to watch before the two of you go to bed. Pietro was in the far end of his room, fumbling with something in the palm of his hand while you sat comfortably in the middle of his bed, head resting on one of his pillows as you set up the show on the laptop.

"For someone as quick as you, you sure are taking your sweet time doing whatever it is you're doing."

Pietro glanced back at you in surprise, almost like he forgot what he was supposed to be doing, too busy staring at the dainty chain tangled in the palm of his hands, with a small engagement ring at the end, in place of a pendant capturing all of Pietro's attention. It was fit for a petite woman. The silver was slightly scratched. Two slightly larger silver stones surrounded a slightly larger stone, although quite dull at first glance the engraving on the inside showed was still noticeable.

"I'm in no rush, dragoste mea." He chuckles, shoving the necklace into his pocket before moving to take his shirt off to put on a different one while continuing to speak. Your eyes followed his movements, subtly admiring his body as his muscles unintentionally flexed which resulted in you feeling your cheeks heat up, quickly looking away to not get caught checking out one of your best friends.

"You know I still don't know how I feel about Vision hanging around my sister." Pietro confesses, his overprotectiveness towards his younger sister evident as he continues to replay what occurred during dinner hours ago, Wanda confessing she wouldn't mind moving to a rural neighbourhood with Vision instead of staying at the Avengers Headquarters.

"People can't control who they fall in love with Pietro." You sighed tiredly not realising the irony behind your words, it wasn't the first time Pietro mentioned his hesitation towards the Android.

"People can't, robots can." He scoffed, walking to the dresser to put away his shirt, now wearing a pale blue shirt instead of the charcoal grey T-shirt he was previously wearing.

He moved to the bed, sitting beside you before shifting around to get comfortable. Your hand reaches out to the laptop to begin the episode only for Pietro's hand to place his above yours, stopping you.

"Since we're on this subject..." he paused to pull the necklace from his pockets before holding the necklace out towards you, letting the ring dangle from the chain between the two of you, twisting and turning because of the sudden movements.

You glanced at Pietro in confusion, eyebrows furrowed. He then pulls the hand that was covered by his own and turning it so your palm faced upwards, dropping the necklace in your hand. You held the necklace between your fingers, admiring the gems on the ring before noticing the engraving etched on the inside of the engagement band.

"I+O?" You read out the engraving in confusion, eyes meeting Pietro's soft gaze. He paused for a bit, struggling to put together a sentence that wouldn't cause the wall he created to completely collapse.

"Irina and Oleg, my parents. This was my mother's engagement ring. It was apart of the few belongings they've managed to find after what happened." He gently takes the necklace from you, signalling you to turn away from him so he can put it around your neck. Gently pushing all your hair to the side you felt goosebumps rise wherever Pietro's fingers grazed on your skin, the familiar heat rising in your cheeks once again.

You were secretly relieved that he couldn't see your reaction, the unspoken tension between the two of you currently was unbearable. You looked down at the ring, twirling it around with ur fingers while Pietro continued to speak.

"We decided that Wanda should keep our father's ring since he barely acknowledged me as his son, let alone a person." Pietro chuckles dryly.

Pietro turns you to face him, palm resting on your left cheek. "It looks good on you Draga Mea." He compliments you, eyes glancing down to your lips ever so often. "Why did you decide to give it to me?" You whispered, struggling to find your own voice.

Pietro's mouth curved into a smile, his thumb gently stroking your face

"Can't you tell?" He asked.

"Hmmm i think I'm going to have to hear you say it." You teased, smiling up at him, arms sliding around his neck pulling him closer towards you. He rolled his eyes feigning annoyance before telling you what you wanted to hear.

The next morning Wanda lightly knocked on her brother's door, wondering why he wasn't at breakfast. Waiting a couple moments for a response Wanda slowly opened the door only to be met with with the two of you lying in bed in each other’s arms,  the laptop ended up at the edge of the bed as you completely forgot about it after the events of last night. Pietro had his arms tightly wrapped around your waist while your head rested on his chest, the two of you smiling contently.

"They're good for each-other." Wanda whispers to her partner who stood beside her.

"They are indeed."

[lazypeachsoul]

alone together - edward the elder

Request: submission to Rosie's 250 followers challenge ( @for-bebbanburg ). Based of the prompt: "I said I liked being half-educated; you were so much more surprised at everything when you were ignorant." - Gerald Durrell

Warnings: Nothing, the situation is a bit sad but it's mostly fluff.

Word count: 1,6k

A/N: I'm really sorry about how late I'm posting this but health has not been that good this past few days. Also, can you tell I have trouble writing fics with already established relationships? I found this gif on google so if it's yours tell me so i can give you credit! 🌼

Masterlist.

To be added to my taglist use this forms or write me an ask!

Looking inside the room filled with parchments and writing tools you could clearly distinguish your friend’s figure looking at one of the stories. The past few days had been difficult on the entire family and you could see the toll it had on Edward, especially since he had tried to stay strong for his mother and for what would be his kingdom.

Even when you walked inside the room he seemed to be too concentrated on the page to listen to your entrance. He was about to turn the page when your hand stopped him, forcing him to finally look at you. His face was paler than usual and the dark circles under his eyes were visible, even if his expression showed nothing but strength and a little bit of surprise at the gesture.

“How did you manage to enter? I ordered Steapa-” He turned in the direction of the door to probably reprimand the guard, but you interrupted him. “Steapa thought some company would do you good and he allowed me in.”

He took a deep breath trying to calm himself and looked at your still touching hands. It wasn’t a completely rare gesture, even if the priests and ladies of the court thought it was too bold, but that day it felt different. It felt like there was so much you wanted to say but couldn’t, like you wished you could take the pain away.

Life in Wessex had been complicated since you could remember. You were born in a time of fighting and chaos caused by the incursions of the danes, and that’s all you had known your entire life. Sometimes a sliver of calm seemed to settle on the land but everybody knew it only the calm before the storm.

Even amongst the continuous hardships you had been extremely lucky. You were the second born and only daughter to a Lord from a land close to Winchester, a lord who was a member of the witan and very close to King Alfred himself. Your privileges meant you were to be saved among the first if a raid were to occur and you would be transported to Wincester to stay with the rest of the ladies.

It was during one of those raids that you became close friends with the Aetheling Edward. Or at least as close as the scary Lady Aelswith would allow you to get to her darling boy. During the long months that it took the Wessex army to defeat the danes and return to your family the land, and during that time you seemed to find in Edward a nice companion for the scary times.

During the years you had visited Winchester several times and always felt the excitement of seeing an old friend again. The times the both of you spent together on those visits had slowly decreased, Edward being whisked away for his education as a future King and you trying to make yourself known around the city as a respectable lady in training.

But every visit included an arduous negotiation with Steapa and your lady in waiting to allow you a visit to the gardens away from the queen, the priests and every nosy person at the court where you could get up to speed with your friend. Even if the meeting took place while you were seated in different stone benches and your guardians were standing two feet away.

Somewhere along those multiple visits and secret meetings feelings arose but were quickly shut down by your father. He would love to see his daughter married to the King of Wessex but it was not a reasonable thought. Everybody knew you were not Lady Aelswith’s favourite person and she would never allow for those feelings to be acted upon, so it was better to concentrate your efforts in finding a husband whose mother didn’t dislike you that much.

And you tried, but it was easier said than done. After your third meeting with a possible suitor went wrong your father asked the Lord King to give you shelter in the court and an occupation that might help you find a suitable husband.

The Lord King, who you suspected knew all along of your feelings for his son but probably thought it would be entertaining to see how things developed. The man who had treated you with the utmost respect and who was now dead.

You felt Edwards hand enveloping your hand and gently squeezing it. If it was to get out of your reverie or just for support you didn’t care, but it felt good. Your thumb started softly caressing the back of his hand, the biggest show of affection you were allowed even if what you wanted was to wrap him in your arms.

“What are you thinking about?” You spoke looking directly at his frowned face.

“Everything, nothing.” With a deep breath he tightly shut his eyes and rubbed them with his free hand. “I spent all my life getting ready for this moment and now that it’s here I feel like I’m unprepared. The witan will be meeting soon and I know that they see me as nothing but a child who is not fit to rule Wessex. I don’t know what will be of my mother now that my father is dead. I don’t know what would be of me now that he’s not here to guide me.”

His confession made your stomach turn and a lump formed in your throat. He had probably been feeling lost since his father died but he was only now talking about it. And it made you feel useless because the most you could do was support him.

“You are the son of a king, the grandson of a king and will be the father of a king, Edward. This is what you were born to do, rule Wessex and fulfill your father’s dream of a united land.” You could feel him tense but tried to ignore it, prefering to get your thoughts out of the way first. “The witan wouldn’t dare to choose a different king when they know you are the best option. They will probably debate for days, because the Lord knows they enjoy just discussing the most trivial of topics, but the decision has been made since you commanded the troops at Beamfleot.”

He sighed deeply before unlacing your hands and letting himself fall on a chair. Running his hands through his dirty blonde curls muttering something. When asked about what he said he just smiled sadly.

"I said I liked being half-educated; you were so much more surprised at everything when you were ignorant."

You laughed, remembering the amount of times the priests had called both of you ignorant during your childhood years just for asking questions. And he was right, life seemed to become more complicated when the joyful feelings of childhood started to vanish.

“We were surprised because we were innocent, I don’t think you have ever been ignorant.” You tried to argue, memories flashing back of all the trouble he had gotten you out of just by being educated and charming. “Maybe we were just sheltered and now the roof has blown off and for once we’re on our own.”

Silence set around the room, the only noise present was your breathing and the shifting of your dress every time you moved. He seemed to be deep in thought again and this time you didn’t dare to break him out of his constant thinking. It wasn’t until he leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees that you paid attention to him again.

“Maybe we were sheltered and a little bit ignorant. Maybe our parents tried to protect us from the disaster and pain surrounding us all the time. We never heard real stories about battle or war. We never learned what it really takes to thrive as a kingdom…” He pointed at the books filled with stories of his father’s life on the shelves. “But that doesn't mean we are alone.”

He got up quickly, maybe too quickly for you to fully understand what the words really meant. In a long stride he was back in front of you looking at your eyes with an intensity that you knew only meant trouble.

“You’ve been here since I can remember. I saw you when you were not taller than two feet and I see you now that you are a beautiful lady.” He continued his speech making your face flush. “You are the closest ally I have ever had and I would like it to stay that way no matter the circumstances”

You had thought of him as more than a friend often but now that you were on the receiving end of his words it almost didn’t feel real.

“Maybe we can be alone together.” He tried to explain, offering you a hand to take.

Your mind was going faster than you could keep up. In a small amount of time you thought about it, about what it might mean for you and him, your families...you even thought about what it might mean for the kingdom. And in all that thinking you couldn’t find a single reason to say no.

You placed your hand back in his, and if before it felt different now it felt otherworldly. With a smile he raised your hand to his lips and placed a soft kiss to the back of it. You couldn’t avoid but softly hitting his cheek like you did when you were younger and you wanted him to stop being mean, because some part of you hadn’t felt this close to him since before rules were placed for your interactions.

“I would love to be alone together with you, Edward.”

Taglist: @solinarimoon @webreathfandoms @thebohemianpenguin @filiandkili

[feanorianethicsdepartment]

heeey! so back when @eirianerisdar posted chapter 12 of their fic the ransom of the house of fëanor - that’s the one where they finally let the brothers hellspawn and their idiot dad out of the void, but they have to throw elrond in, all very sad - i thought up my own somewhat fluffier vastly dumber au for the end of that chapter. in honour of the fic being finished, i’ve decided to write up the various scattershot ideas i’ve had for it, with the caveat that i’ll be working off my own slightly different background headcanons

the divergence point is roughly when elrond announces that he’s totally going into the void now, for realsies, the local ainur are nodding solemnly, and the fëanorians are running preliminary can-we-take-them calculations. except for maedhros, who’s very sad to hear that they must sacrifice his nephew to the eternal dark for their freedom, ‘tis truly a shame, they will honour his memory and GET THE BOAT, BOYS

or, the original elf mad scientist, his murderous blood-hungry spawn, a guy who’s extremely grouchy about not getting to do his dramatic self-sacrifice, and their somewhat-less-reluctant-than-he-should-be getaway driver go on the lam

how they got away from the valar:

námo: already knew this was going to happen, but it’s not like anyone ever listens to him, is it? in the moment, was a little more concerned with how morgoth had started belly-crawling towards the doors of night

manwë: never wanted to throw elrond into the void in the first place, and has been silently hoping elrond would call his bluff for the past week. the children are all safe and inside like they should be, and isn’t that what really matters?

eönwë: no it isn’t boss the fëanorians are a completely unpredictable wildcard we cannot afford to let them run around unsupervised!!! would probably have at least delayed the family hellspawn until backup could arrive, except

olórin: realised what maedhros was planning almost immediately and had to consciously force down a shit-eating grin. as soon as the brothers started moving, divetackled eönwë

-

[from a note attached to a harpoon lodged outside the highest window on the white tower of the isle of seabirds]

elwing - it went better than i expected, honestly. the sons of fëanor took about as much offense to elrond’s plan as everyone else has, except when words didn’t work they resorted to action. they dragged him onto vingilot and i followed them, and then we cast off together. we’ve set sail for as far away from the doors of night as we can get. i’m coming with them, of course, i’m not letting these lunatics crash my baby

i’m not entirely certain when we’ll be back? the fëanorians seem worried the valar might come after us, which wouldn’t surprise me, really. i’m taking us out towards middle-earth, we’ll see where we go after that. they’re all screaming at each other and running across the deck, i’m not convinced they have much of a plan. elrond is yelling too, he’s arguing with either caranthir or curufin, can’t tell which. the one i suspect is maglor has wrapped himself around his neck and refuses to let go. our son is alive and healthy and not in the eternal darkness, and for that, at least, i am grateful

the redhead who’s co-opted the harpoons says we’re coming up on your tower. no one’s done anything to threaten me or elrond, or even looked at the silmaril. there’s something nice about sailing with a crew again, no matter who it is. i love you, and i’ll be back as soon as i can - eärendil

[from a note attached to a harpoon found among the ruins of a house in the tirion stonecarvers’ district]

you were right, nerdanel. you were right about everything, and i was wrong. i’m sorry. the boys and i are going on another adventure right now, but we’ll come back to you someday, i promise

[from the same note, in much neater handwriting]

tell tyelpë i love him, and also that the coordinates are [rest torn off]

-

the first sign of this mess that reaches arda is the morning and evening star disappearing from the sky. gondorian astronomers, haradren scholars, avarin priests all stare flummoxed as the star of high hope simply fails to appear before the sun. no matter how unsuperstitous they are everyone agrees this is a really bad omen, and all across the globe the high halls of power tremble in fear over the new horror this must portend

the first sign of this mess that reaches the shire (except for that one took who’s really into astrology) is when eight-year-old elanor gardner rushes into bag end the next day, all ‘dad! dad! there are elves in the woods!’

sam is pretty chuffed to hear this. the fair folk don’t pass through the shire half as often as they used to, and it’s been some years since he heard their song. if they’re in the neighbourhood, why, it’d only be polite to say hello, wish them luck on their journey, hand them a letter. he packs up a nice tuck-box full of goodies to share, and then sam and elanor (and frodo, who’s going through a following-his-big-sister-around-and-copying-everything-she-does phase) set out to meet the elves

first they hear the shouting. then they see the smoke

at the end of the path his daughter leads him down, sam finds the wreckage of what looks like a crashed boat strewn across the forest, still faintly smouldering. at least a dozen elves are rushing between and up the trees, yelling at each other in the angriest quenya he’s ever heard. in the middle of the impact crater stands a blonde elf carrying a stone that shines like the phial of galadriel, wailing something sam knows just enough sindarin to recognise as ‘MY SHIIIIIIIIIP’

as sam’s gaze pans over the unfolding catastrophe, his eyes land on one of the last elves he’d expected to see, master elrond. elrond is rubbing his temple, groaning like someone who knows he’s the most responsible person around and really wishes he wasn’t. a vaguely familiar sketchy-as-fuck elf is clinging onto his shoulders, in a not-dissimilar way to how frodo-lad is currently riding on sam. elrond catches sam’s gaze

‘greetings, master samwise,’ says the wisest elf-lord of the west, ignoring the scuffle that’s breaking out behind him. ‘i must apologise for my relations’

(fëanor and elanor become fast friends, teaching each other their languages and exploring the shire together. absolutely no one else is okay with this)

-

fëanor, dragging an incredibly-put-upon elrond around the citadel of minas tirith: grandbabies!

fëanor, marvelling over the embroidery arwen is showing him: great-grandbabies!

fëanor, carrying a tiny giggling eldarion all the way up the tower of gondor: great-great-grandbabies!

fëanor, staring fixedly at an increasingly apprehensive aragorn: great-great-great...

celegorm, on dad-watching duty: actually if you lay the maths out it’s very likely every human in middle-earth is descended... from... elros... fuck

fëanor: has gone completely still

fëanor: massive grin spreading across his face, eyes sparkling like the two trees brought back to life

fëanor: eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

[clotpolesonly]

CHAPTER 9

- Will’s ptsd tho, his panic at being bound and knowing he can’t run or fight or protect himself, exposed and trapped and vulnerable 😭

- i cannot stop myself from picturing the Hall as Pierrefonds cuz i’m still Merthur trash at heart

- Valdithar refusing to leave until Will calms him down and reassures him that it’s okay makes me very 🥺

- Cyprian honestly pulls the “my father will hear about this” card alkdfgjh

- “that is the way of the Dark, is it not? they work their way in, taking the guise of a friend.”   i have so many questions about this now that i know about James. James, his son, who he found out was the Betrayer Reborn. is this what he’s referring to? does he feel like the darkness planted James there, had him born him into the Hall deliberately, as a form of infiltration? that his son was a trick? or was there someone else, an actual friend whom they found out was working against them?

- Eleanor really had to have undertaken this whole child-swap plan completely on her own, for not even the Elder Steward or High Janissary to know about it. nobody on either side of the conflict knew what she had done or who Will, Katherine, and Elizabeth really were. she truly kept her secrets too well.

- any of the little snippets of flashback dialogue, Will remembering his mother’s death, is paaaaaiiiiinful now with clearer hindsight understanding.

- “whatever he is, he is just a boy.”   this is the heart of it, isn’t it? for him and for James both, though i wonder what she said of James when she knew, before he was turned out. whatever Will was in a past life, whatever power he contains, in this life he is only a boy. he hasn’t become yet what he’s going to become, and there are still forks in the road and choices to be made. his future isn’t set in stone. the kindnesses shown to him now will be remembered. aren’t they always?

- his dream of the black flame consuming him. foreshadowing, obviously, of what’s to come in this timeline, but i wonder about the past too. if Sarcean made all his choices in sound mind, or if he too was overcome with some kind of external force, or if he had once been a good man who was then consumed and corrupted by the lure of power.

CHAPTER 10

- “‘i don’t usually wear skirts.’ ‘me neither.’” 😂

- lemme tell you how much i want to live in the Hall, like PLS sign me up!!!

- (the vows of celibacy the Stewards take is prime fodder for UST and pining fics, i’m just saying, start writing now).

- i wonder if the four symbols on the thrones in the Hall are going to be relevant later on in the series. the lost fourth king undoubtedly will, right? “his line lost to time.” a new character, maybe, who descends from the fourth king, or finding out that one of the established characters is of that line and didn’t know.

- they make a distinction between people of the old world and Humans™. does that mean that the Stewards/janissaries are not technically human? they don’t seem any different, beyond being prettier and more noble in their bearing lol. i wonder if there are any actual differences.

- they say that Rassalon fought for the Dark King. but Justice also says that much of the knowledge of the old world is lost. were they wrong? the shield was broken here, yes, but it was also wielded by Violet to fight against the shadows. mightn’t it have been used by Rassalon the same way, and the knowledge has simply been forgotten?

- 

CHAPTER 11

- i wonder if Elizabeth felt the same aversion to the chamber with the dead tree stone, or if it’s just Will. is it an aversion to the wrongness of the ossified tree, or is it an aversion to the tree itself and the light it represents?

- “he didn’t want to remember.”   not the immediate past, when his mother tried to kill him, and definitely not the distant past. he’s looking for light inside him and he doesn’t find it, but he doesn’t like what he knows on some level he will find instead.

- i believed so deeply that this was gonna be that typical arc where he can’t reach his true power until he grows as a person and learns some lesson and suddenly the power breaks through at just the right moment to save them all. that’s the story that always gets told. i was wholeheartedly on board that train, like a FOOL.

- did James kill his mother??? or was his mother killed because of him somehow??? also what happened to Cyprian and Marcus’s father?? i need answers, or else i’m gonna start filling in the blanks myself in fic that will inevitably be jossed, i just gotta knOW

- god HERE, on page 130 out of 451, is where Will understands who he is. ALREADY. he just doesn’t want to accept it. he’s so strongly in denial that it takes another 321 pages for him to acknowledge it enough for us as the readers to be told. his mother was meant to kill the Dark King, and the last thing she did was try to kill him. those pieces aren’t hard to put together, but they sure as fuck hurt. goddamn it.

- “he had known that his mother had been -- Afraid. He had just never known what it was she had been afraid of.”   HIM. HIMMMMMM. *pterodactyl shrieking*

- the message on the medallion wasn’t meant as an explanation to her descendants, telling them of their duty. it was a threat and a promise to the one they would fight, telling him that they would come for him.

- i think they all really expected the Dark King to be resurrected, rather than reincarnated. they’ve been thinking of him as someone who will be released upon them, fully formed and ready to destroy them all. instead of thinking of him as someone who will be born and grow like James did. it doesn’t seem to occur to them that the Dark King could ever simply be...a child.

- it’s just now occurring to me that that mark, the S, is Will’s mark. will he gain the ability to see through the eyes of Simon’s men? control them? influence them? they’ve pledged themselves to him and they don’t even know it.

- Will pledges, here and now, to fight against his destiny!!! he’ll stop it, if he can, and prove to his mother that she was wrong to condemn him!!! even as he denies what he knows, he resolves to defy it!!! he wants to be and do good!!! “what do i have to do?” he asks!!! he can’t make himself not Sarcean’s reincarnation, but he can try to fight the rising tide, he can fight Simon, he can delay the inevitable if not stop it!!!

- “one who will seek to turn your mind to darkness, to sway you to his cause.”   and isn’t this still the case? the only difference is that the influence comes from inside, rather than out. and Will already knows it.

[hollenka99]

August Fic Recs

Multi-Chapter Fics

I'm never gonna leave you behind someday by Nelleva - T, 17k, completed

The year after a red sky gives people that viewed it powers, Wilbur's family dies in an attack staged by supervillains. He is discovered by Phil who takes him in indefinitely. He is allowed to heal but there is someone he misses and wishes to see again, no matter how much he's wronged him. There is some mild gore in the first chapter and the attack causes a lot of death so be wary of that but the second chapter is full of Dadza raising a teenage Wilbur. This is the first (and currently only) fic in a series.

Whispers of Red by Alexander_Wesker - T, 58k, completed

This is the sequel to Drawing Dead so I suggest you read that one first. Wilbur comes back to act as the Egg's vessel. His goal is to expand his Family and naturally, the first person he wants to join him is his little brother. Alex is able to write unsettling stuff really well and this fic is no exception. I love Eggbur but please keep him and his particularly raw diet far away from me /j.

I Was Looking for Someone by Raisans_Grapeon - T, 9k, ongoing

SBI zombie apocalypse fic where Wilbur (Ghost) is a zombie who runs into a group of three humans who recognise he's self aware and capable of relearning English. There isn't really gore/cannibalism except for one or two brief bits where it's heavily implied but not graphic despite everything being in Ghost's POV. Also, since Wilbur is learning language, whenever he hears a human conversation, the speech is presented as garbled. It takes a little effort to get the hang of deciphering what is being said but it can be done. Ghost is a sweetheart and I would absolutely protect him with my life if necessary.

Home Again, Home Again by teeth_eater - G, 33k, completed

Tommy, a human who was taken from Earth, crashes the ship he was on and becomes a stowaway on a cargo ship that happens to be manned by SBI. When they discover him living in the vents, they keep him in a cell until they are sure this member of a dangerous species won't do them harm, leading to them eventually becoming friendly. The clingyduo friendship is great. I really like 'humans are space orcs' type content and this is a great example of it. I love the worldbuilding and the thought that went into the alien designs. This is part of a series (Human Error) so there are some great scenes like Chiquitita dancing and Tommy downing 'poison' to everyone's horror after the events of this fic are over.

In the Dark Place by teasdays - T, 24k, ongoing

After November 16th, Ghostbur wakes up in Techno's house. He insists he is dead but Techno and Phil keep insisting he's not. As he adjusts to his new way of living, he has to come to terms that something bad happened before he died and that maybe none of his old friends want to hear him out. I find the exploration of 'what if Wilbur survived Nov 16th but just believes he's dead?' really interesting. I also appreciate that Techno's a bit more patient with him about his insistence that he's a ghost. The gardening scene was quite sweet too.

(Also a special mention has to go out to A Twin of Light by Alexander_Wesker (T, 205k, ongoing) since it's caused me to make a bunch of friends, including Alex themself. If you want to see cc!Wilbur and c!Wilbur become arguably the most important people to each other, I recommend this one. Worldbuilding is fantastic)

One shots

Prayers for the Ill by this_is_a_dumb_username - T, 1.5k

Tommy is diagnosed with the same chronic disease his mother died from. He catches Wilbur and the rest of his friends praying for him on various occasions as he deteriorates. Features illness and character death so stay clear if you aren’t comfortable with that.

death, be not proud, though some have called thee mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so by cptFOZZ - NR, 13k

Tommy is Death and his work sees him encouraging souls to go through the door to the After. However, he meets Wilbur and from there, things unravel as he gradually gets attached to Wilbur's family and friends. There is obviously a tw for the deaths of both humans and animals but also one of the souls he encounters is due to suicide and Tommy is fond of the bugs that follow him around. So be aware of all that, along with anything else mentioned in the tags.

Worth a Try by Solena2 - T, 2k

Eret prevents Wilbur from detonating the TNT on November 16th. I loved their dynamic of ‘traitor and imminent traitor’ and the way they are both characterised. Wilbur clearly wants to get it over with despite how many times he’s backed down and Eret wants to talk him out of it.

Little Wings by Pixelfun20 - T, 7k

Wilbur seems to have been his mother's son in appearance from day 1. Phil doesn't mind this as much anymore but when his infant son becomes irritable and seemingly inconsolable one week, he realises Wilbur might have inherited something from him after all. Essentially, Babybur starts growing wings and his parents try to comfort him through it. It's technically an ongoing fic but the only chapter feels like a one shot to me and it hasn't updated since March so I'm putting it here.

5 times being a seer changed the future, and the 1 time it set it in stone by 5ievel - NR, 7k

Wilbur has prophetic dreams and he uses them to decipher what he should look out for. They help him save Techno's life, prevent the Final Control Room and he thinks it will help him stop a traitor from using explosives. You know immediately whose name should be on his list of suspects but the last line makes all that pay off so well.

[weallpartyatybcpatricksfuneral]

I'll be making this into a long fic, but for now I chose to keep it short. Hermitcraft x Dream SMP crossover

Title: button

Grian sat down at the oak wood table, brow furrowed. Another day, another failed attempt to reconnect to Hermitcraft. The strange glitch that had caused the border to fall in the first place must have been repaired, for the world border was back up and running. His communicator didn’t work outside of his home server, and Phil’s crows (who insisted on following the man everywhere, and who Phil had put up to the task of flying between the severs, trying to gather intel on the border glitch and if people were trying to find him) haven’t delivered any news. 

    The builder glanced out the window as the sun set over the horizon. Past that was Hermitcraft. His home. What was Mumbo doing? Scar? Iskall? Xisuma? How was the war progressing without him? Did anyone notice his absence? No, Grian, don’t get sad. Happy thoughts only...Happy thoughts. 

    “Grain!” 

    Torn away from his thoughts, Grian looked up to see Philza, his dark grey wings fluffed up in distress. “Wil’s sent a letter.” The avian said, holding up a piece of paper. 

    “Well, that’s good!” Phil had been under extreme stress these past couple of days since Wilbur hadn’t sent a letter in weeks and the past few he had sent were...concerning, to say the least. “What’s it say?” 

    Another letter should have been a relief, but from the look on Phil’s face, Grian concluded that this letter was everything except relief.

    “It’s just a date, time, and coordinates. November 16th, noon, with a set of coords in L’Manberg…” Phil’s voice trailed off as his dark emerald eyes scanned the page, over and over, as if he were looking for more writing than just a simple date. 

    “That’s tomorrow, innit?” Grian questioned, trying to distract the man from his distress. That’s how Grian ignored his. Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts. “I mean, you’ll be able to see your sons, check up on Wil?” 

    “Something doesn’t feel right about this, Grain.” Even after all this time together, Phil still called him Grain. Grian stifled a laugh, as it wasn’t the appropriate time to giggle. “His last few letters concerned me. He mentioned something in his last one about 11 and a half stacks of TNT.” Phil looked Grian dead in the eye and whispered, “Grain, I think Wilbur is going to blow L’Manberg!” 

    “But why?” Grian attempted to rationalize with the distraught Phil, who was now pacing across the room making stressed-out bird noises. “He won the election, shouldn’t he be content with that?” This type of stuff never happened on Hermitcraft. There were never serious talks of blowing up anyone’s builds, much less an entire country! The only time TNT is used is in pranks, and they always helped clean up after. 

    “You clearly don’t know Wilbur...He’s a force of chaos, I’ll tell you that. A creative little shit who always comes up with new ways to get what he wants. If he wants L’Manberg gone, then he’ll go to crazy lengths to achieve that goal.”

    Silence fell. 

    “We need to get to L’Manberg. Now. It’s about a day’s flight from here, and we need to leave now if we want to get there as fast as fucking possible.” Phil tucked the letter into the pocket of his dark green kimono and flexed his wings. Unlike Grian, who used the sleek and slim elytra to fly about, Philza had a pair of actual feathery wings. Upon arrival, Phil explained that he was a bird hybrid, also known as an avian. He had feathers on the sides of his face and neck with elfish ears. Back on Hermitcraft, every member of the server was human. 

Grian and Phil started out on their journey north, towards the world border of Dream SMP. The sun had risen, and the world border was in sight. Phil stated that Dream, the apparent Admin of the server, had agreed to let up the border for a few seconds to let Phil and Grian inside. Phil took a rest on a tree, breathing heavily after hours of non-stop flight.  

“You alright, Big P?” If Phil could nickname him Grain, Grian would nickname him as well. A smile twinged across Phil’s face. 

“Ahh...You sound so much like my youngest, Tommy. He says that to people too. You remind me of him so much. Right down to your red shirt and the aura of pure, unbridled chaos you emit.” 

Both men laughed. Grian really enjoyed Phil’s laugh, and despite how giggly and giddy the avian usually was, it had been a few days since he had last heard him laugh. Wilbur’s lack of letters had really spooked him. 

“Will you stay?” 

“Hmm?” 

“In L’Manberg. I mean, it’s closer to your sons.” 

Phil shrugged and drank a potion of strength, and stood. 

“I might, depending on what happens. If my theory is correct, and Wilbur is going to blow the place up, then I’ll probably stay. Just to help him out and help clean up y’know? Maybe I’ll be able to convince him to come home. Before you got here, I was...really lonely.” 

“Well, you won’t be lonely anymore! Since I can’t return home yet, I’ll be your friend so you don’t have to be lonely!” 

“Thanks, Grain.” 

“You’re welcome, Big P!” 

The two rose and started to fly towards the world border. Maybe Grian could make a new home on Dream SMP. The builder already started making plans for an epic build, having a vague idea in his head. However, he would have to inspect the landscapes available to see what his block palette would be and what style his build would be. Grian thought of his mansion back home and wanted to build something similar to remember it. 

“Oi! Grain! You there mate?” 

Grian shook his head as he was, again, dragged from his daydreams by Phil. They had arrived at the world border. “I’ve sent word to Dream, he should be letting us in soon.” 

“Alrighty! What kind of base do you want to build if you stay?”

    Phil just shrugged. “Eh. Don’t know just yet. Don’t want to start anything too ambitious, like a Hardcore project.” 

Grian kept forgetting that this man held the world record for the longest Hardcore run. Phil was only 5”4 and didn’t look that intimidating. He looked loving and fatherly, and Grian considered Phil to be like a father to him. But the man was a dedicated Hardcore player, and could easily take Grian down in a fight. It scared him, sometimes, about how little he actually knew about Phil. 

“Alright, mate, let’s go.” The blue striped border had been removed by the mysterious admin, and the two flew into Dream SMP. Grian felt a buzz from his communicator and pulled it from his pocket. 

<Grian joined the game>  

<Ph1LzA joined the game> 

Unlike in Hermitcraft, when a member joins the server (especially a new member), the entire chat would be flooded with ‘hello!’ messages. However, on the Dream SMP, there were one or two directed at Phil. How peculiar. Phil went silent as they flew over the woods and forest. In the distance, Grian could see what appeared to be a city. That must be L’Manberg. It wasn’t as big or as grand as some builds on Hermitcraft, heck his own base would have taken up over half of the area if he lived there. On a tall pole lay what Grian assumed was the flag of L’Manberg, inky black, with a fiery red arch and X. Interesting design. Phil didn’t go into the city, however, he flew towards the coordinates that Wilbur had written in his letter, his brow furrowed. Fireworks crackled and popped throughout L’Manberg. 

Grian landed with Phil, in front of a small tunnel that bore deep into a hill that was just outside the country. 

“It’s now or never. Grain, stay behind me.” Phil tucked the letter away and led Grian through the tunnel, and into a compact stone room. Carved into the wall were words. No, not just words. Lyrics. 

I heard there was a special place, 

where men could go and emancipate. 

From the brutality and tyranny of their rulers. 

Well, this place was real, you needn’t fret, 

With Wilbur, Tommy, Tubbo, fuck Eret. 

It’s a very big place, not blown up L’Manberg. 

MY L’MANBERG

MY L’MANBERG

MY L’MANBERG…

Those lyrics were carved all over the stone walls, and in the middle, was a stone button. In front of that button, was Philza’s eldest son, Wilbur. 

Grian had never actually seen Wilbur before, only in an old picture of when Phil, Wilbur, and Phil’s other two sons, Tommy and Technoblade, won MCC 4. In that picture, Wilbur wore a cute yellow sweater with a brown beanie, with a shimmering smile on his face. 

The man that stood before them now was not that person. It couldn’t be. Wilbur stood, hunched over a stone button, whispering to himself. He donned a brown trenchcoat and ditched the beanie. 

“What are you doing?” Phil asked.

Wilbur turned to face them. His eyes had no emotion in them, his smile no longer shimmered. Standing before them was an insane man. 

“I will admit,” Wilbur said. His voice sent a chill down Grian’s spine, “Do you know what this is? What this button is?” Phil’s speculations appeared to be true. Wilbur was trying to destroy L’Manberg. 

“Uh huh. I do.” How, how could Phil be so calm? 

“Have you heard the song? The song on the walls?” Wilbur’s fingers gently ran over the words ‘MY L’MANBERG’. His eye twitched, “I was just making a big point you know? About how there was a special place, it was a special place. But that's not there anymore.” Wil’s voice lowered to a hush. 

“It is there, Wil, it's out there.” 

“PHIL I’M ALWAYS SO CLOSE TO PRESSING THIS BUTTON! I’VE BEEN HERE LIKE SEVEN OR EIGHT TIMES--” Voices from above cut Wilbur off. Grian could hear footsteps above them. Wilbur turned his eyes to the stone ceiling and lowered his voice. “Oh they're going to come…I need to block this off.” Wilbur hastily piled blackstone bricks in the doorway, which not only sealed whoever “they” were out, but also sealed Grian, Phil, and Wilbur in.

“Oh Phil...I’ve been here so many times.” 

Numerous fireworks exploded outside. 

<Tubbo_ went off with a bang due to a firework fired from [Rocket Launcher] by Technoblade> 

“Oh they’re fighting, they’re fighting…” WIlbur whispered, sounding tired. 

“And you just want to...to blow it all up? You fought so hard for this land, Wilbur, and you just want to...destroy it all?” Phil tried to reason.

“I don’t even know if the button works anymore, Phil, I could press it, and it might--”

“Do you want to risk it? There is a lot of TNT potentially connected to that button.” 

Wilbur seemed to hear him. His breathing got heavier as he returned to that hunched over position over the stone button. What was this place? Nothing serious ever happened on Hermitcraft. There were no seriously high stakes, there were no serious threats, no serious danger. It was all in good fun. 

“There...there was a saying, Phil...by, uh, by a traitor. Once part of L’Manberg, don’t know if you ever heard of Eret, but he had a saying.” 

Wilbur looked up at Phil. Grian could see the familiar resemblance between the two, they shared emerald green eyes. 

“It was never meant to be.” Wilbur whispered that phrase, and pressed the stone button. 

[stillebesat]

Be My Dad

Sanders Sides: Janus, Logan  A Vague AU Writing Prompt: @wildhorsewolf​ asked: Guess I'm a parent now with Janus being the dad and Logan being the kid Blurb: Janus has no interest in being a parental figure to a kid, but trying to convince the universe of that is another thing entirely.  Fic Type: Familial Soulmate!AU Overall Fic Warnings: Mentions of Scars  Taglist in Reblog.

To most souls, a food court was a necessary evil. Loud. Lots of people. But plenty of food options all together in one place. Perfect for those who liked a variety of choices or those who had picky eaters in tow.

It was a place to meet up with friends, family, or business associates. A place where one could sit back and observe society at work. To see people at their best...and most definitely at their worst. 

There was something soothing about the chaos that Janus enjoyed...as a spectator. He could never imagine being right in the middle of it.

Not unless he was doing what he was doing right now. Trying to hide in plain sight in the middle of a crowd.

After all. He was thirty now. Single. Childless.

Obviously a menace to society in a universe that seemed obsessed with everyone being part of a ‘family.’ 

A Universe that had decreed that all adults who remained childless by the age of thirty, would then be subjected to being bombarded with children in need of a proper parent figure to bond with in their lives.

He exhaled, absently brushing against the raised scar on his cheek, barely looking up as a child burst out wailing nearby.

He’d checked earlier. That particular wailer hadn’t had the golden sparks. It meant he was safe. 

For now.

He ran a hand through his hair, flipping another page in his notebook before he continued scrawling on the page. Maybe Virgil had actually been onto something when he said he was vanishing into the wilderness of Europe for the rest of his life. 

Sure, Janus had laughed six months ago when his best friend had turned thirty and begun complaining about all the kids coming out of the woodwork to ask him to be their Dad.

It’d seemed impossible at the time. To have children want to come up to Mr. Shadows Incarnate and expect Virgil to put them to bed and tell a bedtime story.

Now though, he understood why Vee had become more reluctant to leave his house as the year had worn on. Because the mini spawns really had come out of nowhere once his own thirtieth birthday hit. 

And it was awful. 

Wherever he went, it was inevitable that some child would approach him, shimmering golden sparks floating around them indicating that they were looking for a Parent Bond. 

It was also as inevitable that he would scare them away just as quickly. 

After all, his halfmoon scar and creepy yellow eyes had caused plenty of kids to scream and run with a single look years before his thirtieth birthday. 

No, at least Virgil had a bit of that shy emo charm that made him more approachable, even if the merest appearance of anyone under four feet had his best friend going pale as a corpse and ducking out before the kid could take more than two steps towards him.

Privately he was certain Virgil would find a kid perfect for him before the year was out, despite his best friend’s attempt to avoid the inevitable.

He knew Virge would make a good dad. Compassionate. Protective. His best friend had a dozen other traits that would benefit him when the right child flared with him. 

Unlike Janus.

Who could make a grown man cry with less than four words and a glower.  

No. He couldn’t imagine having any child coming to him in the middle of the night expecting comfort. 

He knew he was intimidating.

He knew he could be scary.

It wouldn’t be fair to subject a child to that on a daily basis.

Honestly, it felt like a slap to the face that no matter how much he achieved, how many degrees he got, or businesses he owned, or careers he pursued, or money he made…

The universe felt that one couldn’t be complete unless said person also had a screaming, slobbering, dirty child in tow.

Janus ran a hand through his hair, again brushing the crescent scar on his cheek as he looked up long enough to watch a cluster of mothers with their dozen and a half children in strollers rush by, seeking salvation at the nearest set of golden arches with at least four of the kids already screaming for their happy meal toy. 

Even if he did make a connection with any kid brave enough to approach him...Janus could never imagine trying to coerce a screaming brat into eating their chicken nuggets all by himself. Could never stand to walk around with food, slobber or worse, vomit stains on his best suits like a badge of honor. Could never be patient enough to listen to the long and rambling and pointless stories he’d heard multiple parents suffer through while observing them here in the food court.

No. There was no way Janus would allow the universe a say in how he ran these next five years of his life.

He had goals.

Life plans.

And he didn’t need some interfering Being with an obviously unhealthy parent complex ruining that.

The scrapping of a chair being pulled back broke through the gentle hum the noise the chaos of the food court had receded to, causing Janus to look up from his paper in time to see a boy, wearing a faded black long sleeved shirt with matching glasses and thankfully older than the screaming toddler throwing french fries six tables over, plop down in the seat across from him.

A child. With golden sparks shimmering in the air around him. 

Oh goodie.

Janus barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. And here he’d thought that the fact that he’d caused a pair of twin girls, a baby, three boys, six preteens, and four other children under the age of five to scream in terror and/or burst into tears before the lunch rush had even started would have been enough for the universe to call it quits for the day on attempting a Parent Bond.

“I have a prospersition for you.” The boy said, making eye contact. Janus blinked, pen pausing mid stroke as he raised an eyebrow to the child. Prosper...prosper? Oh. “A prop-osition?” He asked, careful to pronounce the word correctly. 

The boy nodded once, pushing his glasses back up his nose. “Prop-osition” he repeated, saying it properly this time. “Will you listen to it? Please?” 

Oh, now there was a please? The kid hadn’t even said hello. Janus exhaled, running a hand through his hair, again fingering the raised scar on his cheek, eyes darting about without much hope for any sign of a frantic adult looking for their wayward offspring as he sat back, tapping his pen on the table. “I’m busy.”  

The boy’s eyes flashed. “No you’re not.”

Janus scoffed, gesturing to his papers. “I assure you that I a--”

“Are doing what you do every Friday. You’re not busy. You just sit here. All day. Reading. Writing.”  

Observant. Janus frowned, again glancing around for a guardian figure. He didn’t think children thought much beyond eating, sleeping, and playing with their peers. “That is considered being busy by most people, I don’t have time to tal--”  

The boy shifted to his knees, the golden sparks dancing around him as he carefully placed eight quarters on the table before pushing the pile over to him. “For your time.” He said, looking up to meet Jansus’s eyes once more.

Clever. Not quite the amount he usually took for a consultation, but he doubted a child could come up with that much cash. Still. It was the first time one of these golden sparked spawns of the devil decided to pay him instead of screaming bloody murder. 

Janus exhaled, laying down his pen, sitting up as he clasped his fingers together, resting his chin on them. “I’m listening.” Though he doubted anything good would come from this proposition. He could already predict the direction this would go.

The boy relaxed, though he stayed half kneeling on his chair. “I need you,” his mouth twisted slightly, grey eyes glittering. “to pretend to be my Father.” 

Father? Ha. Called it. “No.”

Golden sparks flared as the boy lifted his chin. “You didn’t even ask ‘Why.’”

He smirked, ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach as he pushed the coins back. “I don’t need to.” It was obvious why the kid wanted to play pretend. After all, the sparks surrounding him were only visible to those like Janus. Single. Between the age of thirty and thirty-five. Childless. If the kid needed a fake dad...well this wasn’t his first rodeo with the concept. “You either need protection from some bullies, which--” He gestured to himself. “You think I look scary enough to intimidate them.” Though not scary enough to keep the kid from bugging him in the first place. “Or else you have lied to your friends about who your Dad is or what he does and so--”

“You’re wrong.”   

Janus cut off, tilting his head. “Am I?” He was certain he wasn’t. 

“You are.” The boy kept eye contact, grey blue eyes hard as stone. 

It would be an intimidating gaze once he grew older, Janus was sure. “Enlighten me.”

The boy pushed the coins back across the table. “The Aquarium is having a Father/Son day today. I want to go.” 

Not what he meant by enlighten, but he’d humor the kid. “So?”

The boy rolled his eyes, shifting to his knees so he could better rest his arms on the table. “I can’t exactly partisiis--partissee--par--” 

“Participate?”

He nodded. “I can’t exactly participate if I go by myself, dummy.”

Dummy? Who just helped the kid pronounce ‘participate?’ 

Janus shoved the quarters back to the boy before picking up his pen, tapping it against the table. He could see the kid’s problem though. It made sense why the aquarium wouldn’t want to let hordes of little demon spawn run around tapping on the glass, licking the floors, and breaking things unsupervised. “I’m not spending fifty dollars to play your Dad, kid, just so you can look at some fish.” 

A pet store would work just as well and wouldn’t cost a dime. If he was willing to go along with this.

Which he wasn’t.

He didn’t even like fish. Not since that stupid childhood fishing accident that had given him the lovely scar on his face in the first place.

No way would he willingly go along with some brat to a place filled to the brim with the creatures.

Despite how brilliant of a scheme it was. One Janus would have used himself though under different circumstances. 

Though he supposed, if he felt like admitting it, which he didn’t, but he still---it….hurt in a way, that the kid, even having the sparks, just wanted to use him to get in to see some boring fish instead of trying out a real Trial with him to see if they had any sort of parental bond. 

It was a stupid feeling. 

He should be used to being used. 

The boy adjusted his frames, barely blinking as he shoved the quarters back across the table, staring Janus down. “Adults get in for only ten dollars today. Kids get in free. If.” He emphasized the word. “Their Father brings them.” He shifted in his seat, pulling out a twenty and slid it across the table. “For your ticket.” He said simply, eyes flashing. “I’m only asking for your time. I don’t want to go on a Trial with you. I don’t need or want a Dad. I just need an adult with the time on his hands to pretend to be one and let me esplore the place for two measlely hours.”

Double ouch. At least some kids attempted to do an actual Trial Run with him to see if their sparks would Flare before being so blunt in telling him he wouldn’t be their Dad. 

Janus frowned, already shaking his head. “Kid, I don’t--” 

The boy pulled out another twenty, placing it on the table. “Two hours.” He said simply.  

“You don’t even know me--” Sure, he knew the boy knew he was in the Trial stage of life since the stupid floating sparks thing, even if he couldn’t see his own, went both ways. But that didn’t mean that he should just shove--

The boy placed a third twenty on the table. 

Janus exhaled, running a hand through his hair, again fingering his scar as he glared at the child. “You’re seriously bribing me? Where did you even get that much cash?” Hopefully it wasn’t stolen, but he’d applaud the boy for being so prolific in his thievery. 

“Not important.” The boy stated, pulling out a fourth twenty without breaking eye contact. 

Why was he being so persistent?! Any other child would have run away by now. 

“Why me?” He demanded, leaning forward, sneering in a way he knew made his eyes look even more creepy. “Why not bribe some other--”

The boy hesitated, a fifth twenty already in his fingers as his steely gazed wavered. “If I tell you why, will you go with me to the Aquarium?” 

That was hardly a fair exchange. The answer could be super simple and he’d be stuck with the kid for two hours. “I’m going to stick with my ‘I’m scary theory,’” Janus said instead, gesturing to his face. That was the usual reason kids gave in most circumstances. 

The boy frowned, lifting his chin. “I can be scary enough on my own without your help.” He said shoving the sleeve of his shirt up, revealing an angry red corded scar that wrapped around his arm from wrist to shoulder. “We match, kinda. Your scar looks similar. Makes it easier to pretend that you’re my Dad. That we were in the same accident.” He pushed the pile of money towards him. “And if anyone suspects you aren’t my birth father, then the sparks will show them that we’re on a Trial and that our scars mean we’re meant to be.” 

Meant to be. 

It took a lot of effort to not touch the crescent mark on his cheek. To ignore the fluttering in his chest at those words.

They’re just pretty little lies. 

Sure, there were ongoing theories that families all shared a similar trait that marked them. Whether that was having a mole on the same part of their stomach, sharing a taste in mustard, having an allergy to hay, hair having the same cowlick, or having similar looking scars--Janus kept his hands firmly on the table as he pulled his eyes back up to meet the kids. 

It was hearsay though. Nothing had ever been proven. Not when the sparks flaring between parent and child was a far more accurate indicator that they were meant to be a family. 

No, he highly doubted anyone would Flare with him during this five year tortrue period. Not even this kid despite the sparks dancing between them. 

Janus took a steadying breath. It was fine. He didn’t need a family. Not even a pretend one for two hours. He was better off alone now that Virgil had harred off to who knew where. “How long do I have to wait before you run out of twenties and give up?” He said, keeping his voice cool. “Because I’m not taking your bribe, kid, regardless of the amount. You’d be better off hiring a nanny or something.” 

Though he was curious just how much the boy thought it would take to convince him to go along with this farce. 

The kid made a face. “I don’t want to be coddled the entire time.” He snapped, the fifth twenty vanishing as he shoved his sleeve down. “All anyone ever does is treat me like I’m breakable since--” he gestured to his arm, the scars once more hidden. “And I’m sick of it. You look like you’d happily let me fall off a bridge if I wasn’t careful and I just...I just--” He shook his head. “I need to not be cared about for a bit.” 

Let him fall off a bridge? Ouch. Janus focused on relaxing his clenched hands, one finger at a time. “So you have a death wish? I’m not gonna be complacent to--”

The boy growled, slamming his hands on the table, steel grey eyes hardening even as they shimmered with unshed tears. “No. I just want to look at the fish.” He hissed. “I want to esplore. Learn. SEE. Without having a grown-up hovering over me like I’m freaking china. All you would have to do is stay near enough to keep any other metaling adults away. That’s all I want. For two hours. To be treated like a normal kid.” His hand clenched as he took a breath, bottom lip trembling. “I thought you of all people would understand that.” He whispered, eyes flickering to the scar and back.

It took a lot of effort to not touch his face. To maintain eye contact. 

Sure.

He understood. 

Janus had wasted years chasing that particular dream throughout high school and well into his first couple of years at college. 

It had all been for nothing. 

People judged the book by the cover. Few ever took the time to look deeper. 

And it sucked that Janus was being forced to reckon with the fact that if he didn’t go with this kid and pretend to be his Dad, he’d be like every other adult unwilling to give the boy a chance to be ‘normal.’  

…Great. Just. Great.  

He’d just been guilted into spending two hours looking at the fish. 

Janus broke eye contact, cursing under his breath as he shoved his papers into his book bag and stood, grabbing his jacket and hat off the chair. 

Maybe he should follow Virgil’s lead and disappear into the wilderness for the next four and a half years if the kids were going to start pulling this type of act on him. 

“You got a name, kid?” He asked, fishing out a single twenty from the stack before shoving the pile back at the boy. Enough for the ticket. That’s it. 

The boy caught his breath, eyes going wide. “You mean--”

How could eyes hard as steel one second go so soft like freshly fallen ash the next?

You know what. He didn’t want to know. If the kid knew how to do puppy dog eyes, then he knew how. That was that, but after today Janus would not be falling for them again.

“Name.” He repeated, impatiently gesturing for the boy to follow him as he tugged his hat down over his eyes. “Else I’ll make one up and I guarantee you will not like it.” 

The boy was by his side in a flash, golden sparks swirling. “Logan.” He said, adjusting his glasses with a small smile. “My name is Logan.”

[eideticmemory]

EVER SINCE NEW YORK | MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER

Description: I was messaged saying: “If you don’t write a young Matthew enemies to lovers fic featuring an obsession with sucking on boobs then what’s the point 😔.” So, here it is, folks! The ultimate College!Matthew fic.

PART 1! - for Sara [@bravadostyles], the ultimate muse. 

SOUNDTRACK:

Empire State of Mind - Jay Z.

Animals - Maroon 5.

Dopamine - Børns.

Word Count: 4,731.

Rating: M.

Warning/Includes: Sexual intercourse, recreational drug use, a bit of angst.

Spring, Freshman Year. 

Tisch School of the Arts,

New York University.

New York City. 

“You’ve got that face on,” Claire said. 

“What face is that, Claire?”

“Your trademark ready-to-go-home face,” she giggled. “You tired?”

“Just a little,” you whispered, head resting on her shoulder, feet hanging off the bed. “Had a long day at rehearsal.” 

“Ah,” she nodded. “Well, if you wanna go, we can go. I’ll walk you home.”

“No,” you shook your head, and placed your hand on her arm. “It’s fine. I’m having a good time.” 

Soft music played through the small speakers on Jonathan’s desk, mixing in with the chatter of your friends. Everyone sat in different spaces around the room, some on the desk, some on John’s bed, and you and Claire rested on his roommate’s bed. Open solo cups of beer were scattered amongst the room. It was calm, chill, and then the door swung open.

“Yoooooo!” The entering voice rang, instantly earning a happy response from Johnathan, who hopped off his bed and ran towards the entrance. 

“Gube!” John exclaimed, arms open wide to embrace his friend. He always got a little touchy-feely when he was tipsy. “Where the hell you been, man?”

“Consider my good time ruined,” you murmured to Claire.

“Be nice, [y/n],” she responded, patting your leg. “Everyone’s having a nice time, don’t start anything.”

“Me? Me? I don’t start anything, I never start anything. It’s him who starts it. That di—“

“Hey, [y/n],” Matthew greeted, taking a seat beside John. “Hey, Claire.”

“Hey, Gube,” Claire smiled. She gave you a gentle nudge with her elbow. 

You rolled your eyes, “Hi, Matthew,” you reluctantly replied, refusing to make eye contact. 

“Aw, c’mon, that’s all I get?” Matthew teased. “What’s wrong, sleeping beauty? You tired?” 

“Oh, you have no idea,” you told him, finally looking over at him. He wore a white polo, paired with a busted pair of jeans and white converse with his mismatched socks poking out. On his chest sat his trademark gold chain, the medallion set in the center of his sternum. 

“Might be past your bedtime,” he shrugged. “Really. Might be better if you just left.” 

“Me?” You scoffed. “Why don’t you leave? We were perfectly fine before you got here.”

“Oh, God,” someone groaned. “Here they go.”

“John wants me here. I’m a little more fun than someone who falls asleep mid-conversation, so I can see why.”

“Matthew, why are you talking to me? Can you just pretend,” you waved your arms around. “Pretend there’s a wall here.” 

“Don’t mind her,” Claire interjected. “She’s crabby because she hasn’t started editing her project yet.” 

You gasped, “Why would you just announce that, Claire? I didn’t wanna be reminded of that.” 

“[y/n], you’re gonna be fucked if you don’t get that shit done. It’s due next week.” Another friend told you. 

You groaned, “Yes. I know that. But I’ve been killing myself practicing for the show every night. And when I finally sat down to start editing, I didn’t know how to work the damn software!” 

“You don’t know how to work EasyEdit?”

“No,” you sighed. “I missed class that day. I tried to learn on YouTube, and that confused me even more. So, I have since then given up.”

“Hm,” John hummed. “You know who’s really good with EasyEdit?”

“Who?”

“Gube,” John answered. This prompted Matthew to lift his head up at astronomical speed, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “He taught me how to use it. He could help you, [y/n].”

“John...” Claire said. 

“What, Claire?” John replied. “[y/n] needs help and Gube can help. I’m just saying.” 

You cut your eyes over to Matthew, who was watching you, but he quickly turned away when you made eye contact. 

“You’re not clever,” Claire shook her head. “You’re nosey is what you are.” 

“Nosey?” You pipped, tapping Claire’s arm. “What do you mean nosey?” 

“I mean, if you and Gube just...” John said. “I’m gonna say it - fucked - one good time, the two of you could get over this whole rivalry already.”

“And stop arguing all the damn time,” someone added. “The shit’s annoying.”

Your jaw had been dropped since the word ‘fucked’ was uttered. You looked up at Claire who gave you a sympathetic smile. 

“I-“ You stuttered. “I...never say that again, John! Ever. Ew!”

“Ew?” Matthew exclaimed. “You’d be lucky if I tossed you a bone.”

Your jaw dropped even lower, stunned by Matthew’s words. “You arrogant son of a bitch,” you muttered. “And this is who you want me to allow near my final project?” You directed at John. 

“Hey, if you don’t wanna fuck me, it shouldn’t be a problem, right?” Matthew taunted, biting his lip and tilting his head. 

“No. I don’t wanna fuck you! I also don’t want to spend any more time with you than I absolutely have to. So I will learn EasyEdit by myself.” 

“Okay,” Matthew shrugged. “You’re not gonna figure that shit out in time, but fine, princess. Be stubborn.” 

You rolled your eyes at him, shaking your head in annoyance. 

“[y/n], let Gube help,” Claire said. “You’re gonna drive yourself insane with that and the show coming up, plus finals? Just this once.”

You looked over at Matthew, instantly getting angry again. Hate is a strong word. It’s a very, very strong word. And you’d never use it against anybody. Ever. Except Matthew Gubler. That may sound a bit dramatic, so to clear up any confusion, here’s a composite list of every asshole, dick, bastard, bitch-ass move he’s made in one semester:

1. Broke your editing equipment trying to do magic tricks in class.

2. Didn’t apologize.

3. Called your last documentary “uninspired, dry, a little like a lullaby.”

4. Took the last spot for an internship over Christmas break. 

5. Which he knew you wanted.

6. Refused to partner with you on a final project because “you can’t even get to class everyday.”

7. In front of everyone because he’s a jackass.

8. Told you that you were insane for majoring in film making AND ballet. 

9. Proceeded to tell you that you look better in a leotard than a suit.

10. Fucked your roommate.

11. While you were in the room.

12. Insisted that Wes Craven is a better horror director than Tim Burton? Is he dumb?

13. Calls you ballerina barbie, short stack, princess, anything other than your actual name. 

14. Won’t drop dead. 

And, because you’re not going to let anyone treat you that way, here’s a list of things you’ve done in retaliation: 

1. “Accidentally” stepped on his canvas. 

2. 3 times.

3. Uploaded a video of you calling him a dick in place of his documentary. 

4. Yes, he did play it for the class on accident.

5. Told him you didn’t want to be his partner anyway since he walks around stoned 24/7. 

6. Laughed. 

7. Told him he’d be a good ballerina. His tiny dick would fit perfectly in a leotard. 

8. Fucked his friend. While said friend was supposed to help Matthew with his project. 

9. Told him none of Edgar Allan Poe’s work was actually interesting enough for screen time. (He almost passed out, he got so mad.)

10. Told him his mismatch socks were dumb. 

11. Consistently call him asshole, dick, jackass, or just Matthew. All synonyms.

12. Refuse to let him mess with you. 

So, the idea of him helping you with your project, coming into your room, bothering you for hours on end, was a ridiculous thought. You should punch John for even mentioning it. Except. It wasn’t a bad idea. 

“Hey, pants stay on,” Matthew said, giving you a smirk. “Boy Scouts honor.” 

Everyone was looking at you. It made you queasy. Annoyed. Angry. And you couldn’t take it. So, you sighed heavily and cut your eyes towards Matthew. “Fine,” you grimaced. “Fine. Monday night. You will teach me how to use EasyEdit. And then we can all drop this.” 

“Ah, success,” John cheered. “I’m not worried, though. Look at [y/n], she’s so innocent. She looks like she belongs on top of a Christmas tree. She does ballet for crying out loud. I doubt fucking is on her to-do list.”

“And on that note,” you pushed yourself off the bed. “I’m going to my room. Goodnight.” 

Your room was just down the hall, and you showered, changed, brushed your teeth and got into bed in all of 30 minutes. Just about to fall asleep, you were disturbed by the sound of keys jingling in the door. Sloppy footsteps stumbled into the room, accompanied by silly giggles.

Thinking you were asleep, your roommate admired your sleeping frame, “Awwww,” she cooed. “Precious, precious, [y/n].” She walked over to you and rubbed your shoulder. 

“You’re crazy to not wanna fuck Matthew,” she whispered, chuckling. “You don’t know what you’re missing, kid.”

And you stayed still, silent, pretended to snore. All while Claire crawled into her bed. 

When Monday rolled around, you spent the entire day with a chip on your shoulder. Claire kissed the top of your head and insisted you’d be fine, that your project would be done by the end of the night and you’d be grateful for Matthew’s help. But she knew that was a  dead cause in her heart of hearts. You both knew it’d be a miracle if Matthew and you made it through 15 minutes of editing. 

When she left to go to a friend’s place, you changed into pajama pants, combined with a cozy cropped button sweater. You sat at your desk, and waited. You’d told Matthew to arrive at 7. 

He got there at 7:59.

By then, you were laying in bed, pissed and upset that you’d actually been convinced to give Matthew a chance. He knocked on the door, and you answered with an attitude. “Go home, Matthew.” 

“Don’t be like that, short stack,” he sighed, following you as you stomped into the room. “I got caught up. I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah? What’d you get caught up with? A gram?” You spit. 

He laughed, “Haha, so funny. No, I was not getting high. I was working on my own project. That I finished. Ahead of time. Can you relate, [y/n]?” 

“Get out of my room,” you scoffed. “I asked you for one thing. One. And you couldn't even do that. You knew how important this project was to me, and you didn’t give a fuck. I wasted time waiting for you that I could’ve been working or rehearsing! I—Are you listening?” 

Matthew’s eyes had been concentrated solely on your chest, “Are you wearing a bra?” He asked. 

You took a step back, stunned, blinking rapidly as you searched around the room. “I’m sorry,” you said. “I’m just trying to find where the hell that came from?” 

“It came from that itty bitty shirt you’re wearing,” he replied with a shrug. “Doesn’t really leave much to the imagination.” 

“Stop staring at my tits!” You shouted, face turning red. “God, Matthew, I can’t stand to look at you right now. Just, leave. Please.” 

He did not stop staring at your tits. Not for a very long time. But when he did, he had this look in his eyes. Like a wire had snapped. And he kissed you. Cupped your face in his hands, pulled you close, and kissed you. You pressed your hands against his chest, face contorting in shock and confusion. 

You pushed him away, lips retracting with a sharp smacking noise. Saliva dripped from your lips, and you stood there, huffing and puffing like the two of you had just run a mile. “What the hell was that?” You snapped, your fingertips lightly touching your bottom lip. 

He didn’t reply. He was just as speechless as you were. Speechless, and confused, and out of breath, and so, so pretty. He was so pretty. Has he always been that pretty? 

You grabbed onto the hem of his shirt and pulled him back in, pressing your lips together in an aggressive collision. Matthew’s hand gripped onto your hair, his body pushing itself against yours in an eager attempt to get as close to you as possible. His other hand made its way to your waist, gripping onto your skin so hard, his nails left marks. Both his hands began to snake down your body, landing on the back of your thighs. 

Very suddenly, Matthew scooped you up in his arms, yanking your feet off of the ground. You let out a breathy ‘oof’ as you found yourself perched in his grasp, your legs wrapped around his torso, your hands on his shoulders. He supported your weight so easily, all while sliding his tongue into your mouth. 

He carried you over to your bed, where he abruptly dropped you onto the mattress, and looked down at you with a lustful grin. Standing beside the bed, he leaned in as if he was going to kiss you — slowly, with his hands reaching out to touch your body — but he didn’t. Instead, he placed his hands on your ribs and pushed your sweater up, over your breasts to reveal your chest. 

“I knew it,” he whispered. “I knew you weren’t wearing a bra.” 

Your breath caught in your throat, before you released it shakily. His lips wrapped around your nipple, wetting it with his tongue and applying light suction. A soft moan left your mouth, and you gripped onto his hair in ecstasy. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling. He sucked harder, to the point of pain, just to hear you make some noise. Any noise. When one nipple began to pulse between his lips, he moved to the other, leaving a trail of love bites between them. 

The heat between your legs was suffocating, and you rubbed your thighs together for some relief. Matthew noticed this, and proceeded to stick his hands down your pants, fingers sliding underneath the band of your underwear. He smirked at how soaked you were already and rubbed your clit as he licked a trail up to your neck. You tightened your thighs around his hand, gasping at the friction and pulling at the bedsheets. 

The sound caused Matthew to take in a sharp breath of air. His cock was pressed against the zipper of his jeans, and was getting to the point that it was excruciating. So, as he massaged your nerve, he undid his pants and pushed them down his legs. 

He nibbled on your ear, and as you gave him a quiet moan, your eyes flickered down to look between your bodies. Flushed, and horny, and suddenly so desperate, you grabbed onto Matthew’s large erection and pressed the tip against your clit. 

He grunted and pulled back to stare you in the eye, a sly grin creeping onto his face. He laughed, “I knew it. I fucking knew it. Innocent? Innocent, my ass.” 

As you rolled your eyes at him, he kissed your lips softly, hands holding onto your thighs. You positioned his cock at your entranced and allowed him to press into you. He stood up straight, watching his cock disappear inside you, slowly, steadily, before he suddenly slammed into you. The sound of skin colliding on skin mixed in with your and Matthew’s moans, and he watched your head roll back in pleasure. 

He licked his lips, smirking. And he did it again. And again. And again. Pulling out all the way and pushing back into you. Hard. The sensation struck your chest, and elicited vulnerable moans from you every time he pounded you. Matthew instantly began to speed his hips up, nails digging into your thighs as he pressed your legs open for him. His used all his strength to fuck you, your head knocking into the wall with every thrust. It was sloppy and messy and you couldn’t stop whimpering. Your eyes were screwed shut, and when you opened them again, the first thing you noticed with his chain. The gold medallion dangled in your face, Matthew’s lips pressed against your cheek. 

Absentmindedly, you tangled your fingers in the chain, tugging on it as your volume increased. “Fuck,” you muttered. “Oh, fuck.” 

He brought his hand up to your face, placing his thumb on your bottom lip. “Open your mouth,” he ordered, quietly, softly. And you did it without thinking. His thumb slid into your mouth, twirling around your tongue and stifling your moans. 

He removed his hand and placed his thumb on your clit, wetting the skin with your own saliva. You let out a loud yelp at the new sensation, and a bubble instantly formed in your stomach. 

Oh, no, not Matthew, you thought. Don’t let it be Matthew. 

But with his cock and his hips and the way he kissed your neck and rubbed your sensitive nerve all at once. You came, you came with a fit of pornographic moans, trembling and writhing around on the bed. 

And it was Matthew — the first guy to make you come. Ever. 

He licked his lips as he watched you come undone beneath him, proud of himself — to the point of cockiness. Giving you a few more forceful pumps, he pulled out of you and released himself onto your chest, watching the fluid cover the hickies he’d left there. 

He looked angelic on top of you, moaning, panting, swearing under his breath. But the moment he finished, he stepped back, fastened his pants and walked away. You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching him in a daze. 

Matthew logged onto your computer, pressed a few buttons and then closed the laptop shut. Then he left. 

However, the next day he sent you an email. Your project. Fully and perfectly edited. 

Okay. So, that happened. They said it would happen and it happened. Didn’t necessarily make you hate Matthew any less, but it happened. It was good. You hated to admit it. And it was all you could think about. You couldn’t even touch yourself or hold your pillow without thinking of Matthew. It was bad. 

Especially, given the fact that after the whole situation, he decided not to talk to you. At all. Not in class, not while hanging out with friends, not even to pick a fight. Complete and utter radio silence. He looked at you enough though. Not while you were looking at him, of course. So, as far as you knew, you were far off of his mind. But life had to go on. You had to focus on school, and on top of that, you were due to perform in NYU’s production of Swan Lake in less than two weeks. 

You landed the main role of Odette, meaning for the next two weeks, you had to eat, sleep, breathe ballet. You practiced for hours on end, barely saw your friends, which gave you a good break from seeing Matthew. 

Opening night rolled around and you were so nervous, you thought you might puke. Only a freshman, it was a miracle you landed the role in the first place, which meant your performance tonight was a make or break moment. Claire could tell you were sick to your stomach and tried to distract you by taking a bunch of pictures on her phone.

“Smile, pretty girl!” She beamed, the flashing going off in your face as you posed. “[y/n], you’re gonna kill it! I’m so excited! Aren’t you excited?”

“Yeah...” you whispered. “Deathly excited.”

“Aw, poor baby,” she swung her arm around your shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna be front  and center, cheering you on. Just focus on me, okay?” 

You smiled and nodded, taking in a deep breath. “Okay.” 

Your body was on autopilot out on stage. The movements you’d practiced everyday, for hours and hours on end, just flowed. The lighting in the audience was dark, but you could just barely make out Claire’s figure under the soft hue. 

It wasn’t until the finale, when you stood ready for your closing performance, that the lights switched to their full intensity and you noticed a hand resting on Claire’s shoulder. An arm resting behind her head. Someone whispering in her ear, making her laugh. 

Matthew.

He was here. He was here and he was with Claire. He was with Claire and he was watching you. And it made your stomach feel weird. But then the music kicked up. So, you had to go. You fell into your dance, your rhythm and for some reason, you could not stop staring at Matthew. 

Every twirl, you made him your focal point. Looking at him again, and again, and again. Until the lights went out. 

Supporting ballerinas cheered you on as you walked offstage, throwing flowers at your feet and giving you applause. Your instructor marched right up to you, kissed both sides of your face and embraced you. It was a wonderful feeling, but right then, you were drained, emotionally, mentally, physically, you needed some rest. 

You locked yourself away in your dressing room, taking a seat in the mirror and beginning to remove your tights. Pressing a makeup wipe to your skin, you jumped, startled by a knock on the door. You rose from your seat and walked to the entrance casually, expecting Claire to greet you. 


But you froze, as soon as you opened the door. Eyes glazing over the person in front you, your breath caught in your throat. “Matthew.” 

“Hey,” he smiled. He looked you up and down — your naked legs, your breasts poking through the thin material of the leotard. “You...you were amazing tonight.” 

“Thank you,” you whispered. “Bye.”

You attempted to close the door on him, but his put his elbow against the frame, stopping it in motion. “Whoa,” he exclaimed, pushing his way into the room. “What the hell is your problem?” He closed the door behind him.

“My problem is that I’m very tired, and still need to change, and greet everyone waiting for me. So, I don’t have time for this.”

“Time for what?” He crossed his arms over his chest. 

You ducked your head down, “Nothing. Nothing. You need to leave.”

“Hey, hey, hey, ballerina barbie,” he mocked. “What’s your deal?”

“I don’t have a deal! I have nothing to say to you Matthew. Same way you have nothing to say to me.” You scrunched up your face in a frown.

“I...” he paused, laughing under his breath. “I never said I didn’t have something to tell you. In fact, I’ve been meaning to tell you something.” 

You looked up at him — the gel in his hair, his black button down shirt flowing over his belt buckle, his dark eyes, his lips and the way they were pouting just a little. And like a magnet, you found yourself being pulled towards him. You jumped into his arms, hands on his face, and connecting your lips, mouths open, tongues touching. 

Matthew held you up, moaning against your lips. “Mm,” you hummed. “Wait, what if someone comes in?” 

Matthew thought quickly, hiking you up in his arms and shoving your back against the door. “Well, now they can’t get in, can they?” He mumbled, leaving kisses along your neck.

Your jaw dropped and you started to undo his belt, freeing his cock from his pants. He grunted against your skin as you stroked him, your head leaned back against the door, your chest heaving. You used your other hand to pull your leotard to the side, revealing your throbbing core. 

Matthew smirked, letting you guide his dick to your entrance, and pushed his way into you swiftly. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his shoulders, burying your face in his neck to keep yourself quiet. His thrusts were quick, rough, messy. He was much more vocal this time, making no effort to stay silent.

“Fuck,” he moaned in your ear. “F-fuck, I forgot how good your pussy is. Fuck.”

The feeling was mutual. For the past month, you’d be wondering what the hell about Matthew had you so stuck. So fixated on him. And this was it. He filled you up perfectly, could manhandle you however he wanted, and always, always made sure you came. 

He fucked you harder when he noticed your orgasm nearing — your quickened breaths, frequent moans and whines, and your legs tightening against his torso. “Oh, my God,” you whimpered. 

“Shit, are you gonna come?” He asked. “Good.”

Breathless, speechless, you stared into his eyes helplessly as your body began to crumble. All power left your body and you held onto his shirt for dear life. He gave you a small smile, and flipped his hair out of his face, looking down at his cock. He could pinpoint the exact stroke that did it. The one that sent you into a state of euphoria, sent your eyes rolling back, your body into intense shock. 

You let out a long and weakened sigh as the wave washed over you, and Matthew continued to plow into you like nothing was happening. 

“It’s so cool how your pussy tightens up when you come,” he chuckled. “It’s hot.” 

You rolled your eyes at the sound of his voice, clawing at the back of his neck. His breathing became ragged and hoarse, and he had to pull out of you before he came. He jerked himself off until he exploded onto your clothing. And with you being dressed in all black, his stains stood out perfectly on your costume. 

This time, he gave you a kiss on the cheek before he left.

The week after that was finals week. And neither of you could be bothered to reach out. Despite the not-so-subtle confession of bitterness and the very intense orgasms you shared, you and Matthew simply went back to not talking. Your friends thought it was strange, even commented that they missed the bickering. The two of you shrugged in response. 

Most of your dorm room was in boxes by the time you finished your last final exam. Claire was slower to pack up than you were, considering she only lived an hour away, but she applauded you for your determination. The day Claire did start packing was the day before you left for the summer. The two of you spent the day getting everything cleared out, cleaned, squared away.

While the two of you sat on your bed, watching Netflix, a knock sounded from your door. Claire hopped up and headed towards the entrance, opening it with a grand smile. “Gube!” She shouted, instantly opening her arms for a hug. Matthew wrapped his arms around her waist and picked her up, carrying her into the room with a smile.

 “Are you about to leave?” She asked him, holding onto his arms as he placed her feet back on the ground. 

“Yeah, my mom’s here. So, I wanted to stop by and say goodbye,” he nodded. 

“Aw, Gube, you softie,” she giggled. “[y/n], come say bye.”

“I can say bye from right here, Claire,” you replied. She gave you a look, and you felt compelled to get off the bed. So you did, you approached them, “Bye, Matthew.” 

“Bye, shortcake,” he laughed. “Bye, Claire.” He pulled your roommate into another hug, while you stood there, crossing your arms in annoyance. 

Matthew peeked at you over Claire’s shoulder. One hand rubbed her back and the other reached out to you, holding a small note.

Your eyes went wide as you looked at him, then the note, then Claire. You ripped the paper from his hand, and stuffed it into your pocket right away. He smirked at you, and turned his attention back to Claire. 

“Hey,” he said to her. “Come back to my place, I want everyone there to show my mom I actually have friends.” 

Claire chuckled and nodded, “Okay,” she shrugged. “Let’s go. [y/n], you coming?”

“Uh, no,” you shook your head. “I’m gonna keep packing, but I’ll text you later.”

“Okay,” Claire smiled, and she let Matthew whisk her away. 

You sighed, and as soon as the door closed, you pulled the crumpled piece of paper from your pocket. You opened it up to reveal — not a meaningful message, not even a few words. Just one string of numbers, writing in his handwriting:

505. 

[PART 2.]

[emerald-amidst-gold]

Writing Tag Game

Thank you so much for the tag @noire-pandora! <3

Time to show people just how much of a baby I am in the fanfic world~! >:3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

A total of ten! Mainly because I lump drabbles together for easy access!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

....273502 words so far. :3 I like words. Words are good. Words are friends. 

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Emerald Eyes Amidst Golden Vows (the very first rendition!) - 48 kudos

Emerald Eyes Amidst Golden Vows - Bound Brighter - 24 kudos

A Dragon’s Hope - 15 kudos

Dragon Drabbles - 13 kudos

Poetry of Wolves - 11 kudos

(Honestly, the progression of style change in each of these fics is terrifying to me. I look back on the last one, and I’m like, ‘Oh my god.’ X’D) 

4. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I do, on occasion, respond! Though I may use a lot of words while writing, when it comes to communication? I suck. XD But, I do get extremely, extremely excited whenever I see a comment in my inbox, and I do go back and re-read them when I’m feeling down about my writing! I usually respond when a person asks questions, but I try to read them as rhetoric since I don’t want to spoil too much! X3 So, to everyone who has left me comments on my fics: THANK YOU. I do really appreciate and adore them. :3

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Many of my short fics (those ranging from one to two chapters) all end relatively happy. I like angst, but I also enjoy making characters that are usually somber and stressed a little lighter. :3 If we want to get technical, then the first several chapters of my main fic all have rather angsty endings because the beginning of Fane’s journey is...heh. It’s not easy, and it’s not supposed to be. 

Although, now that I look, a very old fic of mine called ‘A Dragon’s Guilt’ has a rather angsty ending. Basically, Solas’ frescoes in the rotunda send Fane into a momentary spiral, and it was me playing with Adamant possibilities before he was ‘set in stone’. Panic attacks and mixed memories galore! :D

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

*rifes through my fics* Uhhhh... All of them? :3 Okay, okay! No, if I had to choose it would have to be...one of the short stories in ‘Dragon Drabbles’. It’s a four part story (and my first hand at smut >:3) that’s titled ‘Existence is Not a Sin’. It starts off angsty, but by the end it’s so sweet, so sickeningly sweet that I’m like, “...How did I write this?” X’D ...I’m actually thinking of re-writing a lot of my previous fics just to see if I’ve improved with writing! :D

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I do not write crossovers, but I’m open to the idea! Sadly, my brain hyperfixates on one thing at time, so my imagination is limited. X’D

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I haven’t, and I’m very grateful that I haven’t. To be honest, when I started writing and posting, I expected to get hate (prepare for the worst, you know?) because I was doing something that wasn’t really the ‘norm’ for a lot of people. After all, people are entitled to their own interpretations and mine some times don’t link up with someone else’s. I understand that, and I respect that, but some people...don’t offer the same courtesy. All I’ll say is, if you don’t enjoy my content, don’t read it. We’re all adults, so shrug your shoulders, say, “Not for me”, and move on. Just know that if you do leave a hate comment, you will receive no reply, no fuel. So, don’t waste your time and don’t waste mine. Simple as that. I’m here to share and make people smile, not argue. :3

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I have. Once, and I for the life of me can’t figure out how to do it again. X’D I’m very into soft intimacy; gestures and actions that speak a thousand words. Close positions (missionary, straddling, etc.) and a lot of eye contact with some healthy crying in the mix. *winks* I’m kind of inching towards a theme of ‘body worship’ when it comes to Fane and Solas because those two.. *sighs* They really need to shown that they are beautiful people; inside and out.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I have not. Thank God. XD All I’ll say is this though, you steal my fic, my son and claim them as your own? *gets close to the screen* I will track you down and demand a talk. Don’t steal other’s hard work. Don’t. Writing is not easy, and it takes weeks, months, years for authors to pump out their inspiration, so don’t steal that labor just because you want to say you could. Same goes for drawings and pieces of art. Don’t.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I haven’t! English is my first language, but I understand some French! :D 

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, I haven’t, but the idea is intriguing to me sometimes! I’m just a tad unreliable due to how my mood ebbs and flows. I have very long dry spells. X’D

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Solavellan! >:D While I write solely M!Lavellan/Solas, I do support all genders and orientations for the ship! Because I didn’t get into the ship because of what I saw, it’s what it meant to me. 

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

*side eyes my main fic* LISTEN. It’s coming! I swear. I’m just having intense writer’s block with my main fic, and I’m not sure why. That’s why I’ve been messing with prompts and drabbles. X’D There’s also my modernAU, too.. *sweats* TIIIIIME! WHERE ARE YOU?!

What are your writing strengths?

Describing emotions. I like emotions. Emotions are nice. :3

What are your writing weaknesses?

Dialogue. Mainly because Fane...doesn’t speak much at the beginning of his journey. He’s very curt, short, so I have hard time incorporating other’s reactions to him. I’m getting better though, I think! :D

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I’m for it! Sometimes that little splash of altering dialect can draw someone in and establish a connection! Language connects us, and it’s never too late to try and learn so as to reach out to another! :D

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Dragon Age, my beloved~ 

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

A short story of mine called ‘Blood in the Snow’. It was one of my very first fics and it was the first time I was like, ‘This Lavellan is my muse. I can do so much with him.’ It was just so fun to write a vulnerable moment for Fane, but still keep him locked up. ...It was also where I went, ‘Oh. This is Solavellan Hell. I wasn’t meant to go there, but I DID.’ X’D

Tagging: @oxygenforthewicked @little-lightning-lavellan @dreadfutures @the-dreadful-canine @rosella-writes @aymayzing @drag-on-age @varric-tethras-editor and anyone else that’d like to play! (no pressure, of course! <3)