#but it's still something worth checking out

[sagesariadnd]

My retail job didn't train me for the things I actually needed to know to do my job right. They expected me to be there in the mornings before the buses were even running, then didn't even give me a phone number to call to let me in because the doors were still locked. And when I DID have a number I could call, nobody answered. They told me to call the answering machine if I was gonna call out sick, but my manager never checked the machine so she'd mark me as a no call, no show if I didn't also call her, but I didn't have her personal number so if it was too early for the call to go through to my department, I was screwed. Should I have asked for her number? Sure. But you'd think that would have been step one on orientation day. They didn't even give me the number of the INTERCOM and yelled at me for never using it for several months. They didn't even pay me enough for their health insurance to be worth it.

My retail job's manager was constantly abusive to me. She'd tell me to do something with zero instruction, then yell at me for not doing it right. She'd huff if I asked a simple clarifying question to be sure I was doing something right, and snapping "*I'll* do it then, go clean." She'd scold me for the floor being a mess because I was busy helping customers on a busy Saturday afternoon. She'd scold me for missing that a customer needed help because I was focused on the thing she wanted me to get done faster. She was CONSTANTLY nagging me to work faster. She made me cry a few times from yelling at me, and said "I don't care that you're crying" as if I was doing it to manipulate her.

She constantly got my schedule wrong when I told her what days I was unavailable because of classes. She asked me EVERY WEEK to write it down, then EVERY WEEK she got it wrong, and she told me *I* was the one being inconsistent. She would acknowledge that I was going out of town one weekend, then call me demanding to know where I was that Saturday. She almost wrote up my coworker for being absent on his SON'S WEDDING. She threatened to write ME up when I tried to call out after slipping on the ice in my driveway and hitting my head, basically bullying me to come in. She screamed at me about calling out on Easter Sunday when I was up all night crying in pain from a COMPLETELY VERTICAL IMPACTED WISDOM TOOTH. I'd've loved to know a dentist that was open that day to give me a doctor's note.

The one time I actually reported her for screaming at me for using the bathroom and leaving the floor unattended (I TOLD my coworker where I was going and HE was the one who left the floor unattended to solve a problem at the register), the HR manager sighed and stared at the ceiling when I mentioned her name.

After she got transferred and someone else took over, my new manager was barely more tolerable because he was more passive-aggressive than abusive. He'd never confront me if he had a problem, just cut my hours to next to nothing. He never seemed to listen when I had to call out. He expected me to come into work the day after I called out indefinitely because I had been HIT BY A CAR. And when I did come back after months of recovery, I couldn't keep up anymore from pain and physical exhaustion. And the reason I'd already called out of work so much as it was was because being on my feet that much was literally destroying my ability to walk at all. My knees still have problems to this day from trying to kneel down to do lower shelf work to give myself some relief from my feet. And every time I tried to explain why I couldn't go any faster than I was he brushed me off. I literally quit that year, right before Christmas.

Someone who worked at a notoriously toxic retail store heard the name of the one I worked at and felt sorry for me.

I am never going back to retail.

People always gloss over how mentally damaging it can be to work in retail. I fucking hate that whenever I say “I could never work in retail again” someone has to reply “You snowflake millennials can’t take a starter job because you have to INTERACT with other people” No. Fuck you. I’ve worked as a planetarium host. I’ve worked as a public speaker. I’ve worked as a tutor and as a student teacher. I can work with people. I can work with crowds. Retail was fucking different. Retail was being treated as a subhuman. Retail was being treated so poorly that you have anxiety attacks before work. Having to work retail was a factor in my last suicide attempt. If I hear you say one fucking word about retail workers playing the victim I will personally break every bone in your body. Fuck You.

[rootedinrevisions]

Since Forever

SUMMARY: After a harrowing near-death experience in the sky when a routine training exercise goes wrong, you and Jake are forced to confront the unspoken tension that's always simmered between you. With a crash landing and a moment that changes everything, the line between squadmates and something more begins to blur.

A/N: Thank you to the person who sent this request in! I'm sorry it's been like 3 weeks since you sent it in, but hopefully, it's worth the wait! Hope you enjoy it! xx

WARNINGS: Angst, Mutual Pining, Plane Crash (Smoke, Impact, Head Injury, Blood), Cussing

WORD COUNT: 3.6k

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell: Himself (RPF), Characters He's Played

Twisters: Tyler Owens, Boone, Scott, Javi

Top Gun: Maverick: Rooster, Hangman, Bob

Marvel/MCU: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

WWE/Wrestling: Cody Rhodes, Corey Graves, Damian Priest, Drew McIntyre, Finn Balor, Jimmy Uso, Jey Uso, Kevin Owens, L.A. Knight, Pat McAfee, Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins (if there is someone you're thinking of from WWE and they aren't on the list feel free to ask! There are so many guys on the roster that these were the ones that came to mind.)

The dry California air carried the hum of activity on the tarmac, the heat shimmering in waves off the asphalt as you stood in your flight suit, clipboard in hand. The roar of jets echoed in the background, a familiar symphony you’d grown accustomed to over the years. North Island was as bustling as ever, a mix of old faces and new ones prepping for the upcoming training exercises.

You were focused on your pre-flight checks, meticulously going over every detail on your clipboard. Attention to detail had always been your strong suit, something that had earned you respect in the cockpit and plenty of snide comments from one particular squad mate.

“Still babysitting that clipboard, Ace?”

You didn’t have to look up to know who it was. Jake “Hangman” Seresin’s voice was unmistakable—smooth, cocky, and always laced with that infuriating Texan drawl.

“Still babysitting your ego, Bagman?” you shot back without missing a beat, your eyes remaining on your checklist.

From the corner of your eye, you saw him saunter closer, his helmet tucked under one arm, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. Jake had a way of walking that oozed confidence, like he owned every space he entered. It was both maddening and, if you were honest with yourself, slightly impressive.

“Touché,” he drawled, stopping a few feet away. “But seriously, Ace, you’ve been doing this long enough to know the damn thing’s not going to sprout wings and fly off without you.”

You finally glanced up, arching a brow at him. “Says the guy who spent fifteen minutes arguing with the crew chief yesterday about the ‘perfect’ alignment of his seat harness.”

“That’s called being thorough,” Jake replied, unfazed. “You should try it sometime.”

You rolled your eyes, turning your attention back to your jet. “Is there something you actually need, or are you just here to be a pain in my ass?”

Jake’s grin widened. “Can’t a guy check in on his favorite squad mate?”

“Favorite?” you echoed, snorting. “You must be losing your touch, Hangman. Last time I checked, I was the one gunning for top marks on this run.”

“That’s what makes you my favorite,” he said smoothly, his tone dropping just enough to make your stomach do a small, unwelcome flip.

You hated how he could do that—how he could make the simplest comment sound like it was loaded with a thousand unspoken things. It was part of the tension that had simmered between you two for years, a strange, undefined thing neither of you had ever acknowledged out loud.

“Well, don’t get too comfortable,” you replied, setting your clipboard down. “I’ve got a jet to fly, and you’ve got an ego to stroke somewhere else.”

Jake tilted his head, his green eyes glinting with amusement. “Careful, Ace. One of these days, that sharp tongue of yours is gonna get you in trouble.”

You stepped closer, narrowing your eyes at him as you adjusted the strap on your helmet. “And one of these days, Seresin, you’re going to realize that not everyone is impressed by your southern charm.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. It was like a standoff, the air crackling with the kind of tension that was all too familiar between the two of you. Then Jake stepped back, a soft chuckle escaping him as he raised his hands in mock surrender.

“Fair enough,” he said, his grin still firmly in place. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He turned and started walking toward his jet, his gait as cocky as ever. You shook your head, exhaling slowly as you tried to refocus on the task at hand.

Damn him.

Even now, years after you’d first met, Jake Seresin still had the ability to get under your skin in a way no one else could. And despite the irritation bubbling in your chest, you couldn’t entirely shake the small, secret part of you that liked it.

* * * *

The sky was a perfect blue—no clouds, just an endless expanse stretching out in front of you. It was supposed to be a simple exercise, just another day in the air, but your instincts had been nagging at you all morning. Something felt off.

You were flying at full throttle, running through the mission parameters, your fingers lightly grazing the controls as you focused on the task at hand. In the distance, you could see Jake’s jet—smooth and precise, cutting through the air just like always. You kept your distance, the tension between you two still palpable, even miles above the earth.

Then, without warning, the engine sputtered.

"Shit," you muttered under your breath, eyes flicking to the gauges. The warning lights blinked red, and your stomach dropped like a stone. The engine—your primary engine—locked up.

“Ace, you copy?” The crackling voice of your Captain came through your comms, sharp and urgent. “What’s your status?”

You took a steadying breath, trying to keep your pulse under control. The jet was starting to lose altitude, slowly at first, but it wasn’t going to be slow for long.

“Engine’s locked,” you said, voice tight. You glanced down at your instruments again, hoping for a miracle. “I’m losing power. Going down.”

 Jake’s voice exploded through your earpiece. “Don’t do anything stupid, Ace. You hear me? Eject if you have to!”

The words felt like a slap in the face. He was always the first one to play the hero, always telling you what to do like you were some rookie.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Seresin,” you snapped, teeth gritting as you struggled to maintain control. You banked hard to the left, trying to level out, but the jet was sluggish—too sluggish. It was dropping faster now, and the ground was coming up at you way too quickly. “I’m not ejecting.”

“I said—” Jake’s voice broke through again, but you could already hear the Captain cutting him off.

“Ace, listen to me. You have two options right now,” the Captain said, his tone firm, no room for negotiation. “Eject, or try to bring her in. But you don’t have much altitude left.”

You had a split second to make a choice. The sky was shrinking, the earth creeping closer with every heartbeat. Your mind raced—ejecting would be easy, sure. But it would cost you the plane, and it would mean another mission down the drain. And there was always that sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach when you had to rely on someone else to pull you from the wreckage.

You focused, blocking out the voices in your comms, focusing on the controls, on what you could do.

You had one good engine. It wasn’t ideal, but you had just enough altitude to make a hard landing. If you timed it right.

“I’m landing this bird,” you said, your voice steely with determination. You could feel the sweat building under your helmet, your pulse pounding in your ears, but your hands were steady. “I’ve got this.”

“Ace!” Jake’s voice came again, a mix of frustration and panic threading through his words. “You don’t have the altitude—”

“Shut up, Seresin,” you cut him off, your jaw clenched as you took a deep breath. The ground was closing in fast now, the harsh reality of the situation crashing over you. You had seconds to decide how you were going to do this. You could almost hear your heartbeat in your throat as you worked the throttle, pushing the remaining engine to its limits.

“Ace, eject now!” Jake was practically shouting now, but you didn’t have the time to argue. You were already lining up the rough terrain, calculating the risks in your head. You’d done it before—this was just another challenge to overcome. “If you crash—”

“I said I’ve got this!” you growled, pushing the throttle forward and making a last-ditch effort to pull the jet back into some semblance of control.

The sound of the engine was sickening now, almost wheezing, but it was still holding on. You could feel the nose of the plane dip, and you knew it was time. There was no turning back now.

You aimed for the small strip of flat ground, mentally calculating the distance between you and the crash site, praying to every deity that you could pull this off.

The jet dropped faster.

Your stomach lurched.

You could hear the voices of your team—your Captain—fading in the background, their instructions turning into static. All you could hear now was the roar of the engine, your breath, and the sound of your own heart pounding in your ears.

And then the wheels hit the earth. It was harder than you expected. The jet groaned under the strain, the fuselage screeching as you fought for control. The wheels bounced once, twice, and the jet jerked to the side as you fought the controls with everything you had left. The impact was brutal. You slammed into the seat, the world going black for a split second before your mind jolted back into reality.

Your head throbbed, a sharp pain searing behind your eyes. You blinked rapidly, trying to focus, but everything felt off. Dizzy. The pain was sharp, but you couldn’t focus on it now.

Your hands still gripped the controls like you were trying to hold the whole world together. You could feel the tension in your neck, the tremor in your hands.

And then, the voice you hadn’t realized you were waiting for came through your comms, strained and desperate:

“Ace, talk to me. Are you okay?”

You were silent for a moment, trying to find your bearings. The crash had knocked the wind out of you, but you had to focus. You had to focus.

“I’m... fine,” you gritted out. Your vision was blurry, your head swimming, but you needed to keep it together. “I just need to—”

The world went black for a few moments. The crash had been rough, everything moving too fast, and then you were suddenly weightless, disoriented, and struggling to remember how you had even ended up in this situation. The impact had jarred you, rattling your body so hard you weren’t sure which way was up. The cockpit was filled with smoke, the once-pristine view of the sky now replaced by the harsh, metallic scent of burning fuel.

You could hear the sounds of the control tower in your headset, distant voices now muffled and indistinct. Your head throbbed, dizziness clouding your thoughts. Something was wrong—you were wrong—but the panic started to subside as your mind tried to latch onto something, anything familiar.

The sound of a plane's engines revving pierced the air, and that was when you realized you weren’t alone anymore. Jake's voice cut through the haze.

"Stay with me, Ace, I’m almost there" he barked, his tone uncharacteristically sharp, the usual cocky bravado gone. His voice was full of urgency, tight with a level of fear you hadn’t expected to hear.

You managed to open your eyes, the world around you spinning, but through the haze, you saw his plane descending in the distance—he was landing, landing without permission. Your heart skipped a beat, knowing he was disregarding protocol to get to you.

Within seconds, Jake's jet was on the ground, its wheels screeching as it touched down, and he was already sprinting toward you. There was no waiting for rescue teams, no giving orders. It was just him, and you.

Your chest was tight, your breath shallow, and for a brief moment, you wondered if it was all just a nightmare. Then, through the haze of your spinning mind, Jake’s face appeared—his eyes wide, his expression frantic as he reached the wreckage.

Without hesitation, he pulled open the hatch, the cockpit door groaning under the force. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t waste a second. He carefully pulled your helmet off of you. His eyes moving to the blood that was caused from the impact. His hands then started working to undo your harness, fingers shaking as he snapped the straps free, pulling you into his arms before you could even comprehend what was happening.

His breath was frantic, like he was holding it in, waiting for some kind of confirmation that you were really there. That you were still alive. And in that moment, as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest, the world started to stabilize. Your breath came in shaky gasps, your head pounding as the dizziness slowly began to fade.

You blinked a few times, trying to clear the fog from your brain. The weight of your body felt heavier than normal, your limbs still stiff from the crash. But it wasn’t just your body that felt like it was slowing down—it was your mind. Everything was racing too fast, the adrenaline still pushing you into action, but in Jake’s arms, there was a moment of stillness. A second where nothing mattered but the fact that you were safe.

"Don’t you ever do that again," Jake muttered, his voice trembling despite the tough exterior he always wore. His words hit you harder than any of the physical pain, and you felt a strange, overwhelming wave of emotion rush through you. It was as though all the walls you’d both built over the years had crumbled with one unspoken truth. Jake was scared, and in this moment, it wasn’t about flying, or missions, or protocols. It was about you.

You barely registered that you were leaning into him, your chest falling against his as you came back to yourself, your body reacting without thinking, your mind still spinning. His hands were gently running over your back, soothing you, grounding you, even though you could feel the anxiety still vibrating through him.

“J-Jake,” you stuttered.

"I'm here. I’ve got you." His words were a soft mantra, repeated over and over as if he needed to hear them as much as you did.

You shook your head, trying to clear the fog. 

“I... I’m fine,” you said, your voice shaky as you pulled away slightly, lifting your head from his chest. But the moment you tried to step back, you felt his arms tighten, keeping you close. The intensity in his gaze was enough to make you stop moving entirely.

“No, you’re not fine,” he shot back, his voice low but full of conviction. His hands still rested on your back, holding you steady, like he wasn’t going to let go anytime soon. He wasn’t just holding you. He was holding you like he was terrified of losing you.  “You scared the hell out of me, Ace.”

You swallowed, feeling a weight in your chest you hadn’t been prepared for. The vulnerability in his words was jarring. He had never let his guard down like this before. But there it was—raw, unfiltered concern.

The words stuck in your throat, but somehow you found yourself meeting his gaze, feeling the space between you two close, the tension palpable. 

"Since when did you ever care about me like that?" The question slipped out before you could stop it, more of a breathless thought than anything.

Jake froze, his hand still on your arm as he stared at you, his jaw tight, eyes searching yours. For a moment, the world felt suspended in that one breath between you two. He didn’t back away. Instead, his face softened, his expression caught between frustration and something deeper, something he wasn’t saying.

“Since fucking forever, you idiot,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion, almost a growl.

Jake stepped closer, his hand slipping from your arm to the back of your neck, his thumb brushing the skin there in a rare, intimate gesture. The contact sent a jolt through you, and suddenly, nothing about this situation felt like just another close call. This felt like something else entirely. Something you couldn’t ignore any longer.

“I thought I was gonna lose you today,” Jake murmured, his voice low, steady now but still thick with emotion. His forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours. “I can’t lose you, Ace. I don’t think I’d make it.”

The weight of his words landed heavily in your chest. The truth between you two was finally out, raw and real. You swallowed, trying to hold back the lump in your throat.

“I’m not going anywhere, Jake,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “Not without you.”

Jake sighed and then asked you again, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you said, your voice softer now. You still felt the ache in your head, the sharp sting in your chest, but it wasn’t nearly as important as the way Jake was looking at you now.

His hands slid down your back, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. You could see his jaw clench, the words stuck somewhere between his teeth, and then he shook his head.

“Are you? You sure as hell didn’t look fine in that damn cockpit,” he muttered, his voice low and tight. “You could’ve—You’re the closest thing I’ve got to family out here, Ace," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "I... I don’t know what I’d do without you." His words were a stark contrast to the cocky bravado he usually carried. This was real, and it was raw. "You don’t get to put me through that again, got it?"

You swallowed hard, your heart beating so fast it felt like it might explode in your chest. All the tension, all the unspoken things that had hung between you two for years, were now laid bare in the open. There was no hiding anymore. No pretending like you didn’t feel it, too.

“Jake…” you started, but the words wouldn’t come. 

Instead, you pulled him down into a kiss—soft at first, tentative, but it was as if something broke open between you. You felt the fear, the relief, the longing all tangled up in that moment. His lips moved against yours, a little desperate, a little shaky, but it was real.

When you pulled away, you were both breathing heavy, eyes still locked, both of you trying to process what had just happened.

“I don’t know what this is, Jake,” you whispered, your voice trembling just slightly.

“I don’t either,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair as if trying to pull himself together.

The words hung between you two, thick with meaning. You didn’t know what was going to happen next, but for the first time in a long while, it felt like maybe you didn’t need to figure it out all at once.

You both stayed there, in the middle of the wreckage, still alive, still here—and for the first time in a long time, that was enough.

But then, all too soon, reality crashes back in.

A voice from outside the cockpit, sharp and professional, cuts through the intimacy of the moment like a splash of cold water.

“Hangman! Ace!” The search and rescue team has arrived, and the urgency in their voice snaps Jake out of his daze. “We need to get them out of there, now. Base is requesting immediate transport.”

Jake pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he takes a deep breath, like he’s trying to steady himself. His hand still lingers on your waist, the warmth of it grounding you, but his eyes betray a hesitation—reluctance to let go of the moment.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here, Ace,” he mutters under his breath, almost to himself as much as to you.

You nod, feeling your heart hammering again, but for a different reason now. His gaze softens, and there’s a flash of something unspoken between you—a promise, maybe. You can’t quite find the words for it, but you feel it deep in your bones.

The medics are waiting outside, and with one final, reluctant glance at you, Jake starts to lift you away from the cockpit. With his steady presence, and one arm around your waist, he helps you out of the cockpit.

“Easy now,” he murmurs as he guides you down, keeping you close to his chest as if he can’t bear to let you out of his arms just yet. “Take it slow.”

As soon as your feet touch the ground, the search and rescue team rushes to assist you, but Jake doesn't let go immediately. His fingers linger on your arm, his gaze flicking between you and the team as if he’s weighing something—like he’s not quite ready to leave you in someone else’s hands. He hesitates, looking like he wants to say something, but the team is already ushering you toward the waiting helicopter.

“I’m coming with you,” he says, voice firm.

“Jake, you don’t have to—” you start, but he interrupts, his tone brokering no argument.

“No. I’m staying with you.”

The hum of the helicopter’s blades is loud against your ears, but everything else seems muffled as you lie back on the stretcher, still reeling from the crash and the kiss that’s left a strange warmth in your chest. The medics are busy around you, but you can barely focus on them, your mind still racing, spinning from the events of the last few minutes.

The moment Jake climbs in beside you, his presence fills the space. He doesn't hesitate, sitting down next to your stretcher and taking your hand immediately, his fingers curling around yours like it's the only thing tethering him to reality. His face is tight with worry, but the way he holds your hand gives you a strange sense of comfort, something steady amidst the chaos.

The medics move quickly, checking your vitals and assessing your condition, but you can barely register it, your heart still thumping in your chest as the adrenaline from the crash ebbs away, leaving you exhausted. One of the medics starts to remove your flight suit, carefully peeling it off your shoulders to get a better look at any possible injuries, leaving you in nothing but a thin tank top that clings to your skin.

You feel exposed, vulnerable, as the cool air brushes against your skin. It’s an unsettling feeling, but Jake’s hand is still in yours, and when the medic starts to prod at your ribs, you squeeze his hand instinctively, a shiver running down your spine.

“Hey,” Jake murmurs, his voice low and soothing as he leans in closer, his gaze never leaving you. “Focus on me, okay? Look at me.”

His voice is calm, reassuring, and even though you're still reeling, his presence is grounding you, pulling you out of the haze of discomfort and medical poking. His thumb rubs small circles over the back of your hand as the medic continues his examination, but Jake doesn't flinch. He doesn't pull away.

“Just look at me,,” Jake repeats, his voice steady. “You’re fine. I’m here.”

You manage to meet his eyes, and the intensity of his gaze sends a strange warmth flooding through you, cutting through the nervousness. In this moment, it’s just you and him, as if the rest of the world has faded away. You want to say something—tell him that you're okay, that you don’t need all this attention—but the words get lost in your throat.

Instead, you hold onto him tighter, needing him to keep you tethered, to keep you from feeling so exposed and raw.

The medic moves on to checking your head, and you wince at the touch, the sting of pain making you flinch. Jake immediately leans forward, his hand tightening around yours as he shifts closer.

“Easy, Ace,” he murmurs. “You’re okay. Focus on me. That’s it.”

You nod, trying to focus on his words, trying to push the discomfort and the questions swirling in your mind to the back of your head. His presence is like a lifeline. His voice is the one thing that makes you feel like you’re not alone in this. Like you're not just another casualty.

“Once they’re done poking and prodding, we’re going to get you something strong to drink,” Jake says softly, the corner of his mouth quirking into a half-smile as his thumb brushes against your hand once more. “And I’m not talking about water. I’m thinking something a little more... celebratory.”

A part of you wants to laugh, but you're too exhausted, too wired from the whole experience. Still, there's a glimmer of something in Jake’s eyes now, something more than just the mission or the tension between you. There’s something new in his gaze, like a shift, and you feel it too—this unspoken understanding between you both that things are different now.

"You're gonna be the death of me, you know that?" you murmur, your voice hoarse from the adrenaline. "One minute, you're flying like a maniac, and the next, you're talking about taking me out for a drink like it's a... date."

Jake’s grin widens slightly, the kind of smile that only happens when he’s completely unguarded. “I’m thinking it’s more than a date, Ace,” he replies, squeezing your hand again. “Maybe it’s a... celebration. You know, to celebrate you not getting yourself killed.”

His tone is playful, but there’s something real behind it, a tenderness that wasn’t there before. Something that’s been waiting to come to the surface for a long time.

The helicopter ride drags on as the medics continue their work, but Jake stays by your side the entire time, never letting go of your hand, his steady presence like a quiet promise that he’s not going anywhere. His words from earlier echo in your mind, and you realize that, for the first time, you don’t feel alone. Not with him here. Not after everything you’ve been through.

When you finally land back at base, you’re still a little shaky, but the thought of what Jake said—of what he hinted at—keeps you grounded, keeps you looking forward to what comes next, whatever that is.

[carbonfiction]

Dark Desires

older, best friends dad!Logan x reader

summary: a week ago you found yourself drunk texting your best friends dad; something that should've been a mistake, but you were sure in that drunken moment that Logan would know everything you'd kept from him all those years. You'd been thinking about it for longer than you'd care to admit; adding to the fantasy. so what happens when logan finally indulges you..

warnings: Swearing, dirty talk, F!Receiving oral, PIV smut, prone bone and missionary, Somnophilla (technically??), daddy kink, roleplay?? pussy sniffing?? Kind of voyeurism? But the person is very much asleep. Also tagging this for dubcon but it’s more pre established consent/free use and slight CNC vibes depending on how you view it? Tagged this the best i believe i can but ultimately you are responsible for your media consumption.

A/N: i don't know where this came from, other than i had a glass of wine and a naughty thought. i tried real hard on this and its a little darker than i usually write- not to mention longer- but i hope yall enjoy a filth filled piece of my intoxicated brain anyway. Et voilà.

Masterlist Words: little over 4k (oop- longest thing ive ever written.. i got carried away..)

Your heart is hammering away inside of your chest so insistently that it feels like your ribs are bruised and your breasts are trying to punch their way out of your dress.

You're still wearing the stupid thing and Laura is drinking another mimosa. Part of you is grateful for that. Yet while you want her drunk and snoring tonight, part of you can't help trying to stop her.

You make eye contact, give her the look. Tell her to slow down because you two have been down this road before. She gets wild, has fun for half an hour, and then spends the rest of the night dizzy in a bathroom asking deep philosophical questions like why do my eyes hurt? And why do guys suck? And do i still have puke in my hair?

But if she's drunk tonight, just enough to sleep like the dead, then what?

You set your own drink aside to check your phone for what feels like the hundredth time this hour and lift a shaky thumb to your texts.

You've read the thread again and again and again, and still you don't quite believe it. The party swirls around you. A hurricane of sound and the smell of cocktails is sour in your nose. You feel the heat of your friends, your fellow graduates. one day lawyers, doctors, professors, professionals in their field; and yet here you are reading over the texts again.

You feel like a little girl and yet simultaneously the most grown of women because you have a secret, a dirty little secret.

You were nearly as drunk as Laura is now when you sent the first text a week ago. You were celebrating the end of finals and you were curled up in bed after a long night out.

One of your other friends had flirted with the bartender. You'd told the girl to stop and Laura had reached from her stool and pinched your leg. Asking if you'd ever needed something so badly that you actually made a bad decision.

Everyone had laughed, all except you.

You know she was teasing and complimenting in the same breath. You're a good girl and everybody knows it. Reliable, honest and never involved with the wrong kind of guys.. Always a reason to why you were too busy to bother. You were studying, too busy hanging out with Laura. Too busy prepping for school, internships and the next two decades of your life.

You're no angel, although of course, no one was. You've had your share of regrettable hookups and disappointing boyfriends, but nothing that set your world alight. Nothing worth risking anything for.

But maybe what Laura had said thread under your skin more than you'd like to admit. Maybe you were just drunk enough to ignore the obvious risk.. Or was it that you'd been thinking about him for an indecently long amount of time?

So with finals over, diploma practically in hand. There was nothing preventing years of pent up lust from sending a jolt down between your legs, setting a crackling fire in your heart and making you sweat. Dripping down your neck, stomach, that spot on your lower back, they all tingled as you crouched on the corner of your bed and wrote a single text.

You: I need something.

You sent it. Had forced yourself to before you chickened out and immediately regretted it. You thought you'd worded it in such a way that you could play it off, pretend it didn't happen.

But you were sure in that drunken moment that Logan would read those three words and know everything you'd kept from him all those years. Every dirty thought, every horny fantasy, everything.

It was all right there in the text. 2am on a Thursday night and truly it could only mean one thing. You put the phone down, tried to make yourself go to sleep.

Logan was an older man with a life. A job, house and a child- your best friend- and you were sure he wouldn't even see the stupid thing until the morning when you could say you meant to message Laura. Not him, not her father. But then you picked up the phone again, half panicked and ready to change your mind, when you'd saw those little dots.

That meant he was writing something back, at 2am on a Thursday night, either in bed or his limo.

Logan: You need to go to sleep

Of course.. Responsible. That was the responsible thing to do. And you would do just that. But first you'd just write a quick text to apologize. Say it was the wrong number and sleep this off; pretend it didn't happen for the rest of your lives.

But.. what if, for once in your life, it could be easy? What if Logan did know everything? What if.. There was something else? Because that was how this all started, hadn't it?

You'd always felt something more, saw something different in his worn eyes, his gruff demeanor. Heard something he was saying when he really wasn't saying anything at all.

Or.. Was it all in your head? Was this only ever a one way infatuation? A young woman's crush, a dark fantasy that only grew darker with each new kink you discovered in yourself? Losing all confidence, you texted back.

You: sorry. Wrong number.

And that was that- or it should've been that- If it was only ever a one way street. You put the phone down, tried desperately to keep your eyes closed, but the moment you heard the phone buzz again you peek.

Logan: Is that true sweetheart?

Oh no, no. it wasn't true at all. You knew he knew exactly who'd texted and why; what you wanted him to do. You'd been thinking about it for years. Adding to the fantasy. Soaking your sheets in the middle of the night when you couldn't sleep, all that brought a temporary relief. If only for a little while; So, you text back.

You: No

Just that. A simple No.

Logan: You telling a lie?

You: Not exactly

Logan: So you wanted my attention then?

You: Wanted? No Logan.. Need.

And yes, you know need is a very strong word.

Logan: You feel very strongly about that huh? Strong feelings can be dangerous sweetheart.

You: what if i want something dangerous.

You answered back with the most honest thing you could say. And then there was a pause, a very long pause, in which you could see no dots, and even started to wonder if he'd abandoned you. Left you on read.

A thousand images erupted in your mind, different versions of him sitting and staring at your number- your words. Those cheap reading glasses perched on his nose as he wondered if this was some kind of game.

But if it was a game.. Logan was ready to play and after a few minutes your phone dings again.

Logan: you're being a real bad girl tonight, aren't you?

And then it wasn't your best friend's father you were texting. Well, it very much was- that was the crux of it, wasn't it? But now it was also the man. The man on the other side of the phone who was paying close attention.

You: Yes, daddy. very, very bad.

Now, In the darkness of his daughter's room, You imagine colors swirling on her ceiling. Your heart restless like a caged animal and there is a knot in your stomach twisting tighter and tighter by the second.

You don't know how long you've been lying here. 5 minutes or 5 hours. But you know you can't possibly wait another moment... But then you do, because you have to.

You haven't heard from Logan all day and that makes you afraid. Really genuinely afraid that He's forgotten or changed his mind.

Because, well, it's just you and Laura in here, isn't it? You're lying on the floor, a lumpy pillow under your head, and a spare, slightly musty blanket folded under your breasts.

Laura is snoring away in her bed, her limbs tangled with a stuffed animal almost the size of her- one you'd won her from a carnival. It was like old times, she slurred drunkenly. The three of you huddled together in her bed, giggling and watching some crappy reality show.

She'd tried to get you to join her and the animal in the bed, but you'd said no. Insisted that it was too hot tonight. That you'd rather be able to spread out on the floor. Fortunately, by the time you made it up to Laura's room, she was too far gone to argue.

Unfortunately, now though, there's a very drunk girl in her bed beside you, a possible witness to your depravity. And so you lie there, staring at the ceiling and forcing yourself not to text. Not to call. To just ignore the nagging doubt in your gut.

And yet again, you still find yourself opening the text thread. Reading through the things you told him, the things he'd told you. A formed plan and line after line of you promising things. All of the 'Yes, daddy I want this' the 'Please do that to me' The repetitive 'ill be a good girl, Promise' And then, at the very bottom, a safe word. It was when you'd agreed on the safe word that you knew this was for real. Not a fiction in a book or a fantasy playing out in a movie.

The word. Kitty. An inside joke from years ago. The word proof that all the little confidences and conversations held an attraction you were both willing to hide for the sake of decency

But.. you don't want to be decent anymore. You'd confided your fantasy, one that you had dreamt so many nights. Wished for it in the hot, comfortable haven of Laura's bed every time you'd stayed over. The thought of her older, attractively gruff father coming to you in the night and making you submit to his secret lust.

Of him pulling your panties to the side while Laura slept untroubled. Logan ravishing you while you whispered and mewled 'please, daddy, make me your filthy slut'

You've always been his filthy slut, haven't you? Deep In your heart. The thought is turning the wet spot between your legs into a soggen menace. You've been horny before, You've been needy before, but never like this- because you've never tried something like this.

Never wanted something badly enough to ask for it; or even beg for it. This was a dream, a dirty desire, a secret yearning never to be true.

Then you'd drunk texted. You told him and he'd responded, not with shock or disgust, but enthusiasm, cautious enthusiasm. But it was still only text messages. You haven't spoken to him yet, not properly at least. Even when you saw him walk in at the party, or in the limo on the way back to Laura's. You couldn't bring yourself to say a word. Your mouth was so dry, cheeks so hot. Laura had laughed and said you were flushed in the backseat- a lightweight to end all lightweights- when in fact you haven't had a drop to drink tonight.

You're going to throw your phone at the wall, you swear it. But No, that would probably wake her up. Instead, you conclude that you're going to find your pants, and you're going to leave this house and never come back. You love Laura but you can't bear it, can't believe you trusted him with this. You can't lie here and torment yourself about your decisions a minute longer about your need.

Then, your heart leaps into your throat. phone dropping onto your chest with a soft thud. Quickly you brush it off and turn onto your stomach. Your head hitting the pillow, eyes squeezed shut and pulse racing like you've run a marathon.

Through your closed eyelids, you see the glow of the hall light from the open door, only for it to vanish moments later. Either the door has closed or the light's been turned off, but you're not sure which because blood is racing so loudly in your ears. Breath escaping in overwhelming gasps.

Do you hear calculated heavy footsteps or is that your imagination? You struggle to listen for Laura. Is she awake or still sleeping? The tension so tight in your chest that you begin to feel dizzy, almost nauseous. Then comes the creak of the floor at the foot of your makeshift bed, the unmistakable presence of another person in the room, their eyes on you.

You can't stop your body from trembling slightly as the sheet is softly yanked away. Adrenaline courses through your veins, making your body buzz with anticipation.

Your legs are bare the cool air of Laura's bedroom. You're laying on your stomach. Face pushed into the pillow, eyes clenched shut as if you're locked into a deep, drunken sleep- like you should be.

Your legs are splayed out, dark lacey panties riding up the crevice of your ass. One of your ass cheek's indecently exposed... then a rough touch caresses over the swell of that exposed cheek, two big exploring hands, gliding over you.

You hear the grunt of a man, and you know it can only be Logan. He's the only other person home.

Your heart is beating so hard you're afraid you're going to pass out. Laura is on the bed, sleeping mere feet away, and her father is groping you in your supposed sleep.

So the question becomes: are you dreaming now? or are you praying this is as far as he'll go?

when Logan pull's the fabric of your panties to the side, you know he's willing to go much further. He's quiet in the darkness around you, but he's big and the house is old; the floor creaking and groaning as he readjust's his heavy weight.

Your panties are roughly hiked over one cheek of your ass, the sound of ripping lace filling your ears. Logan's hot breath roll's over your ass and the tremble in your limbs becomes a full shiver.

You can feel his scruffy face so close to your body, Feel his nose against the crevice of your ass as he roves lower. Dipping further until his mouth- his nose - is pressed into the folds of your bared cunt.

You hear how he inhales deeply, toes curling in response. Your fingers lay over Laura's spare pillow, the case tight in your grip. He's smelling you, nuzzling against your dampening skin not once, but many times. Lewdly breathing in your scent like a dog that's found something it likes.

His calloused hands spread you open so he can breathe deeper still and when hes as deep into your cunt as his face will allow, his wet tongue slides out to lick at you. You cannot stifle your moan at the feeling, immediately biting your lip to keep from growing any louder.

But with this the culmination of so many fevered late night fantasies, you dont know if you are dreaming.

His wide tongue laps at your swollen clit, swiping open the seam of your pussy and to the point just shy of your tighter hole. You hear logan growl into your wet slit like a monster unleashed from beneath the bed. Feeling how how his licks grow stronger, longer and twice as ravenous as he steadily turn your pussy into a drooling, dripping mess.

He laps at you in the quiet darkness of Laura's room, calculated and experienced as you fight to not to cry out. The pressure of an impending orgasm building so tight in your body that it feels time you woke up.

And so you take a deep breath, a rough gasped sound falling out too. Your fingers claw at the pillow as you flex your lower half.

"Hmm?"You grumble, pretending to bat away the cobwebs of sleep. "Wha-whats happening, What are you doing?" You ask, voice thick with mock confusion.

Within moments you feel Logan's tongue retreat from your pussy, a weight so much heavier than your own crawl over your half naked body. You feel him pressed tight against you, still clothed if the scratchy fabric tells you anything, but an unmistakable bulge is hidden inside. Hard and large against your ass you feel Logan's arm rub against your shoulder. A big hand sliding over your mouth.

"Quiet, sweetheart" he growls in your ear. "Daddy's had enough of your teasing"

Another large hand slides beneath your sleep shirt to cup your tender tits, The nipples diamond hard against Logan's palm. You cant help but moan into his hand as you plead.

"Please. Didn't mean to tease" its a wine, petulant in tone.

"Course you didnt.. Shame S' Too late now" he whispers against your ear, teeth biting into your earlobe. The hand on your breast trails down. Right the way down to his slacks.

"B-but Laura" You warn him in a whispered panic, hearing the sound of a zipper sliding down. you struggle teasingly, hips bucking back against him. Its not enough to cause a scene or enough to wake your sleeping friend- his sleeping daughter- but just enough to make him pin your body down. Enough for you to feel a fraction of his real strength.

Logan's muscles bulge from the effort of caging you against the floor and spreading your legs.

"Nuh uh, Stay still. Stay right where ive got you" he murmurs darkly in your ear, voice a low rumble. the words fire through you like liquid lightning as you bite into his palm, not to fight but to restrain a high pitched moan that you fear could wake the neighbors- not just Laura.

"nothing you can do now sweetheart, just gotta take it" Logan says and you hear the mocking smile in the words, feel the throb of his thick cock as it emerges from the confines of his pants. "Kept telling me you were a good girl, so show me"

With your stomach flat against the ground, legs spread wide beneath him, you can do nothing but tremble as his cock slips between your legs. The cock belonging to your best friend's father sliding deliciously across that little bundle of nerves that sparks a whimper of pleasure.

Your eyes roll back as Logans hips buck, cock brushing your clit again, running up and down your slit torturously slow. "fuuuck, you feel that? How hard you've got my cock?"

You're kicking your legs now, moving your hips. It could be viewed as a struggle but its not, not really, you're just so desperately excited you can't keep still.

"Don't need to fight me baby. Just let daddy in hm? let it happen sweetheart."

And then he's pushing inside your body in one heavy thrust; slow and impossibly deep. The weight of him inside your cunt making you mewl against his palm. All the years of secret yearning, wet fantasies and subtle flirtations have all led to this moment.

It doesn't take many thrusts before your tongue is rolling out of your mouth, licking wetly against his palm like a grateful dog- a bitch in heat. You try to use it to muffle the moan that follows, a pitiful sound mixed with pleasure, like you're ashamed to be in the situation.

Used and humiliated around logans cock.

Its push followed by retreat, a half thrust and then withdrawal over and over. "So fucking tight" Logan growls as you wiggle your ass, not certain if your trying to squirm further in to his grip or out.

He's stretching your walls apart, the burn of his size delicious with each heavy he offers. Each bringing a pulsing throb on your clit. "Yeaaaa, that's it, take it like a good girl.." he groans. "S' what you wanted isn't it."

Logans right, this is exactly what you wanted and more. His body trembles atop yours from the exertion, balls squeezed against your ass, his hand on and off clenching around your breast. His thrusts picking up in pace as you struggle and squirm to keep quiet even under his palm

"L-logan" you whimper as he pushes particularly deep, pussy squelching lewdly from your arousal, his hand barley muffling the word. He knows your close before you do, can feel your cunt clenching desperately.

"Getting fucked so good your gonna cum sweetheart?" he rasps in your ear, panting into it. "C'mon, tell daddy how good his cock feels."

"S-so good.. F-fuck yes daddy, please"

You whine and It is a struggle to pry his strong hand off your mouth to get the words out.

"Go on sweetheart. Cum, coat my fuckin cock. Show me this cute little pussy is mine"

and then his big hand clamps back over your lips as he begins to fuck you into the floor. Your orgasm crashes over you in burning waves. Every stroke becoming an ecstatic agony, overstimulation starting to buzz over your bones. Its a constant struggle to hold your moans and neither of you can move properly for the risk of waking Laura .

But Logans hips remain unrelenting, Fucking you prone on your friends floor. His balls swinging, swatting unbearably at your clit with every entry. The heat of him and being trapped against the floor is almost unbearable, but so is having to keep your whimpers quiet. sweat beads hot on your brow

you can hear his own desperate attempts at staying quiet. Broken only by muffled groans, grunts of exertion, and primal chesty growls as your cunt clenches wetly around him.

Yet the discomfort of overstimulation is no match for the absolute bliss of your submission. Your toes curling so hard you're on the verge of a cramp.

The friction between your clit, Logan's cock and the floor builds to an intolerable pressure. Something must give way. The temptation to lose all control and scream his name too great. Now that possibility of you blacking out is too dangerous to ignore. So you say it the word.

"Kitty!"

Not because you want to, but because in this moment you have to. Almost as soon as the word leaves your lips and sinks into the pillow, wet from saliva and tears, you feel his body shudder. muscles seizing while a heavy groan sounding out into the skin of your neck.

"you okay?" he pants softly worry creasing his brow. "Was it too much?"

Your wordless and it worries him. Making him pull back, cock slipping free with a hushed hiss as he helps you shift onto your back, so he can look at you properly.

Your hands rise, fingers caressing his scruffy cheeks. "M'okay" you pant, eyes on him. "wasn't too much. Promise."

No, in fact, It was just right- before it all overwhelmed you that is. Now? now you just want to hold him, make love to him. Hold onto something- someone that isn't really yours. Eye to eye, your mouth slides back over his, legs spread back open, ready to welcome his length back inside. Without a word you buck your hips down, beckoning him to fuck you again.

Things are much quieter this time. Pace slowed to deep grinds rather than shallow thrusts, pleasure once again coiling in your gut as you lean up to watch his cock disappear inside.

"Feel so good sweetheart, my good girl" he coos, lips against yours as his hand slips back to cup your breast. "My good girl with a fuckin perfect body"

You keep your eyes on logan, blissful smile across your face, and for this moment he's not your best friends father. Not with the way he's gazing down at you with a mixture of lust and long held affection. "always wanted you" he whispers, hand moving back from your breast to cup your cheek. "But I would have kept that secret forever.."

You squeeze him to your chest, heart stuttering at the admission as you lock your arms behind his neck, legs tight around logans waist. You whimper back his name, a plea on your tongue.

"Want you to cum logan.. Please, need to feel it"

You want it more than anything, to feel his cum pushed inside you; for it to drip out later as a downright filthy reminder. You kiss his neck, then cheek, and finally his lips. You want Logan to claim you right here on the floor, right under her nose and you know it makes you a bad friend. Your eyes roll back, hands clawing down his chest as you feel yourself giving up all thought to the rush that flows down the center of your body. The one that begins and ends in the wet, sticky place between your legs, Where the sensitive bud of your clit pulses like a dying star.

it's then he growls much too loud, and you respond back in a whimper, lips pressing tight as you cum together in panted kisses. Him pumping hot heady ropes of cum inside your cunt without reservation or regret as you clench in a vice grip around him.

Tomorrow you will be sore, you know it for a fact. But Tonight.. Tonight You can revel in a fantasy made flesh, your flesh and Logans wrapped around each tight. You drag weak fingers down through his damp hair, then his back, feeling the way his shirt is soaked through with sweat.

Logans panting has subsided by now, breaths no longer crackling besides your ear. He plants mouthy kisses at the juncture of your neck, ever so gently, like a sated wolf nuzzling at the muzzle of his mate. You giggle quietly as those kisses grow fiercer, teeth nipping at your neck.

"my good, great, naughty girl" he murmurs against your skin, voice soft. "you feeling okay sweetheart? sure it wasn't too much?"

You nod and he can feel the enthusiasm seep from the move as you grasp his face again. "Mhm, better than okay. Was perfect" you hum sleeplily, content in his hold, in the scent of him. Your eyes flutter, lashes tickling his cheeks as you kiss him long and deep, until the rub of his beard hurts your face and sleep begins to take you under.

You both know tonight was the culmination of so many fevered dreams. The breaking point of lust and its power that can't be fully expressed in words. So he holds you close- just as you do him in your rest- for a little while longer, until light begins to filter soft through the curtains and the reality of what you'd both done really begins to set in.

thats it!! lemme know what you thought anddddd yea! asks are always open to shoot the shit, drabbles and more! <333

[roosterforme]

Geriatric Millennial | Rooster x Reader

Bradley loves all things '90s. You don't completely understand it, but you appreciate his spirit.

1000 words

Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

There were certain scenarios that became normal over time when you were in a relationship with a man more then ten years your elder. Sometimes you didn't understand certain movie references. Slang words and jokes occasionally went over your head. He and his friends would often reminisce about trends you'd never witnessed. But Bradley never made you feel bad about it, and you never called him an old-timer unless you were joking.

You were used to these things, but nothing quite prepared you for what you saw when you got home from work. Bradley was relaxing on the couch in something that looked like a bright blue, full body straitjacket with some random vintage headphones on his head.

"What the fuck?" you muttered, inching closer when you realized he was listening to music and hasn't spotted you yet. You glanced around the room, trying to locate the source of disturbing chattering sound that just started, and you tripped over a hard, black ball.

Bradley looked up at you with a smile. "Hey, you're home early." He quickly stood in his weird, fleece outfit and leaned in to give you a kiss, but you leaned away.

"What on earth is happening here?" you asked, standing frozen as he pulled his headphones off.

"What are you talking about?" He looked puzzled by your words but not by all of the weird things in the living room. 

"I'm talking about what you're wearing. And the robotic voice!"

"Oh," he laughed. "This is just my Snuggie."

"Your what?"

He glanced down at himself. "My Snuggie? I found it in a box of my stuff from highschool."

You were still so confused. "What's a Snuggie? And what is that weird sound?"

When his gaze fell to something fuzzy and brown on the couch, you jerked back in shock. "You mean my Furby?"

You glared at the critter and it's enormous, evil eyes. "Is that one of those things from that '80s Gremlins movie you're obsessed with?"

He barked out a laugh like you'd just said the funniest thing he'd ever heard in his life. "Baby, no. It's not a Gremlin. It's just a Furby. But imagine if Furby manufactured replica Gremlins... Would have been fascinating." It was starting to sound like he was speaking a foreign language. "I was just listening to Chumbawamba on my Discman and playing with my pogs and my Tomagachi. I literally forgot the Furby was even here."

You were sure you were gaping at him like he had two heads as you reached up to run your palm across his forehead. "Do you have a fever?"

"Huh? No, but I did eat a Kudos bar I found in the box, so I might potentially have an upset stomach later. But it was worth it."

After you pinched the bridge of your nose, you asked, "I'm sorry, but what did you say you were listening to?"

"Tubthumping. By Chumbawamba. You know it, don't you? Pissing the night away, pissing the night away. I get knocked down...." He looked at you in wide eyed shock. "You don't know that song? How is that possible?"

You didn't want to tell him that Chumba whatever wasn't a word. And neither was Snuggie. Not when he looked so adorably baffled. You stroked your fingers across his forehead and down his cheek as you shook your head.

"No, I don't know that song, because I'm not forty like you are. And you look kind of alarming in this thing." You pinched the fleece fabric and pulled it away from his body.

"It's my Snuggie," he muttered. "It was from an Infomercial."

"I don't know what that means." He gasped and you started laughing. "But I would love to sit down with you while you explain it to me. As long as you don't make me eat something from the late 1900s."

He took your hand in his bigger one and and led you toward the couch and the demonic looking Furby. "Okay, but first, you need to listen to this CD. Because Jake told me Chumbawamba is a guilty pleasure, but it's actually really good."

About twenty minutes later, you were wrapped up in the Snuggie, enveloped in softness and Bradley's lingering body warmth. "I love this thing," you told him, burying your face in the fleece. "And yes, Chumbawamba is good, but I like Hoobastank better. And I'm really sorry I accidentally kicked your Magic 8 ball across the floor."

He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and kissed your cheek as you skipped a track on his Discman. "That's okay. Hey, do you want to learn how to play pogs? The best part is, I'm not sure there are actually any rules at all."

"Sure," you said with a shrug. "Why the hell not? As long as you lock that Furby away and never let it out ever again."

"Heard."

[tylerthegerm]

also! i recently watched a great documentary on PBS about the revitalization of the Wampanoag language. it was an episode of the series "we still live here" or "we are still here" or something to that degree. definitely worth checking out!!

The Thanksgiving Myth

The "friendly Indians", that kids all across the US dress up as in generic stereotypical caricature "Indian" costumes in the week leading to Thanksgiving, are not characters in a play, or people of the past. They are the Wampanoag Tribes— learn their history today.

"In 1692 the Wampanoag Tribe Had Its Own Agenda: In American lore, friendly Indians helped freedom-loving colonists. In real life, the Wampanoags had a problem they didn’t know how to fix." By David J Silverman in The Atlantic

"The Myths of the Thanksgiving Story and the Lasting Damage They Imbue",by Clair Bugos in Smithsonian Magazine. Interview with the above author.

"Do American Indians celebrate Thanksgiving?" by Dennis Zotigh in Smithsonian Magazine

WATCH People of the First Light, Thanksgiving: A Native Perspective on Youtube

Donate

Donate to the Native-Run Land Conservation program in New England

Donate to the Wôpanâak Language Reclamation Project

Donate to the Native American Rights Fund

Support, learn, and donate to the Wampanoag Tribes directly:

Mashpee Wampanoag Tribe. Mashpee MA. Culture & History, Donate, Facebook,

Herring Pond Wampanoag Tribe. Plymouth MA. History , Donate , Instagram , Facebook, Twitter

Chappaquiddick Wampanoag Tribe. Edgardtown, MA History , Donate , Instagram, Facebook

[berenwrites]

Vocation, Steddie, Stranger Things, G

A/N:  Almost didn’t get anything written for this month. Had loads of ideas because it’s a great prompt but kept failing to write them down. But I finally managed it. Hope you enjoy. Don’t forget to check out all the other great fics at @steddiemicrofic too💖.

Written for prompt: GUARD | wc: 532 | Rating G | cw: none

Tags: Fluff, Upside Down aftermath, future, corroded coffin, famous Eddie

Also on AO3 | ( My Other fic on Tumblr)

Vocation

It had started off as a cover when Eddie and the band began to take off. Once Corroded Coffin were slightly too large for Eddie having a constant male companion to go unnoticed, they manufactured a reason. Steve became Eddie’s bodyguard.

The kids had thought it was hilarious, since Steve had never won a fight with a human in his life, but Steve hadn’t. He’d taken private lessons and become what Eddie needed him to be. That it meant he could be seen everywhere with the man he loved had helped make all the bruises from combat training, and headaches from learning strategy and all about security, totally worth it.

The ruse hadn’t been necessary for years, but that didn’t mean the whole fandom didn’t still call him Bodyguard Steve. With the advent of the internet, he even had his own fanbase, which he found decidedly weird, but cheerfully put up with.

Of course, being in the public eye led to one little problem, people were beginning to notice he wasn’t aging normally. None of them were. Those who had been there at the final battle when they took down Vecna for good had all shared in something. It had affected them physically. For Max and Will, it has been more obvious, they could throw things around with their minds just like El. For the rest of them it had taken a few years.

Hopper and Joyce had been the easiest to spot. In their 40s when everything went down it had become clear much faster that neither of them was headed for their dotage when they should have been. Dustin had a whole sideline of studying all of them and his best guess was they were aging, on average, about two years for every ten.

That made turning down the management when they suggested Eddie get a younger man as his bodyguard really easy, but other things harder.

“Do you think it’s time to retire?” Eddie asked as he looked down at the latest article about the band in Rolling Stone.

“Do you want to?” Steve asked.

“No,” Eddie admitted, “but look…”

Steve glanced at the full page spread. It was hard not to see it. Jeff, Gareth, and Doug looked like veteran rockers, Eddie looked like a young upstart in their midst. The guys knew the truth. It had been impossible to keep it from them eventually, but the world didn’t. So far it had been explained away by leaks to the press about Botox and plastic surgery, but that wasn’t going to cut it for much longer.

“Vampires,” Steve found himself saying to his own surprise.

“Huh?”

“Tell the world you’re a vampire,” he replied as the idea formed. “You and the guys always wanted to do a really gothic album. Pretend it’s a whole thing and people won’t see the reality. It’ll give you a few more years until you’re ready to leave it behind.”

For a moment Eddie just stared at him.

“Sweetheart,” his husband finally said, “did I ever tell you you’re a genius?”

Steve just smiled to himself as Eddie dashed off to call the rest of the band. He would guard Eddie’s happiness forever.

( My Other fic on Tumblr)

[skimmingmilk]

i've just found out your tumblr has even MORe picket fence writing and im over the moon?? But also my heart was shattered with the back in time wip 😭😭😭 how does sonic find the strength to leave baby tails behind, how does he react when he sees tails again in his own timeline after having met sick abandoned baby tails??

Heheheh, yeah, there are some little fics or scenes I've written that I hesitate to put on AO3 sometimes (or just aren't complete enough to be a story on their own), so I like to throw them at Tumblr from time to time. Glad you found them! :D

Ohh, the back in time WIP... Not sure how much I can give away because of the chance that it's going to end up part of a bigger fic... but it'll still be a long while until I get around to posting that xD Maybe people will forget lol.

Potential future spoilers under the cut?

So! The way I see it playing out is that Sonic is going to find it in him to leave baby Tails behind because he knows they'll cross paths one day, the way they're supposed to and everything will play out from there. He knows he can't stay in the past and he can't take baby Tails to his present. Plus, Silver's with him and it probably wouldn't go over well to try and explain why it'd be a good idea to take baby Tails with him when it would negate pretty much everything Sonic and Tails experienced together since meeting on West Side Island or cause a split in the timeline where now there's a universe where Sonic never got to meet Tails because he wasn't there and now Sonic's time with have two Tailses. He knows that it can't happen.

But... Sonic still can't stop wondering about the little guy. Is he cold? Is he scared? Is he getting enough to eat? Is he lonely? Hurt? All the things he's not letting himself think about when it comes to his Tails (the 10 year old who's on his first solo adventure and basically gone as close to no contact as possible in order to "prove himself"). He projects all that onto the baby version of him because he knows Tails can handle himself (and that's not why he's worried about him, what he's uncomfortable with is the motive behind the journey). So he gets his hands on two Chaos Emeralds and goes back to check on baby Tails by himself. Just this once.

Except it doesn't end up being just once. Because there is this disconnect and distance between Sonic and Tails of the present, doubts that have arisen in the wake of Forces, Frontiers, and now Tails's absence, Sonic's drawn more and more to the past. Baby Tails smiles and laughs and he doesn't pull away from him and he likes to play and explore and he still needs him. It's just so easy for Sonic to make him feel better. Just by being there.

Also, because this is after Frontiers, going through cyberspace and the cyber corruption has opened the gates to Sonic's memories a bit and they're kind of leaking into his thoughts more and more. He's falling into the habit of ruminating, reliving moments and questioning choices he made, things he might've done wrong, could've done better. So that maybe Tails wouldn't feel like he needs to become a completely different person.

Present Tails won't listen to him, but baby Tails hangs onto every word. So maybe by being there... Tails might remember being loved and maybe the 10 year old won't only see the worst parts of himself when he looks in the mirror if Sonic can try again and show the younger version that he's worth something just as he is.

I think Sonic crosses paths with present Tails twice during all of this. The first conversation goes okay, but there's an awkwardness to it. But Sonic does try to make an effort to be more open with Tails in the hopes that maybe it will set a better example. And Tails is surprisingly receptive to it. So Sonic resolves to not go back to the past, because Tails seems to be doing okay after all. And he's reminded that he loves who his little brother is now. The good and the bad made him who he is, and would he really want to change that? Of course not!

Unfortunately, the second conversation doesn't go nearly as well...

So Sonic goes back to see baby Tails in the wake of it - not because he needs it, but because Tails clearly does - but when he arrives, the forest is burning and he can't find Tails anywhere...

[alikuarso]

To answer your question about Fresh: Fresh is actually a parasite! He dresses in his 90's-themed clothes and speaks in a silly way so that others underestimate him. His main and utmost goal is to Survive, and the way he does that is by infecting other people with his parasites and draining the life from their souls. Being seen as harmless lets him get closer to them and gives him easier access for possession. He hopes to eventually take over the multiverse, spreading his parasites in every corner of it and having absolute control.

He also has no emotions. He is capable of them, but for whatever reason he is unable to feel much, besides the rare instance of anger. He does frequently feel fear, though.

He is a bit sadistic, and he likes seeing others suffer. This is because when he takes over someone he drains their soul of life, which causes them pain. And to him, taking someone's body means safety, it means he can survive a bit longer as long as he's snatched their body. So he's come to associate the pain of others as something good.

And he's also aware of the creators/viewers, thanks to an event called the Loveball, which is canon to his character.

Going to copy and paste my own words for this [I was talking to a friend about Loveball]:

"So, like seven years ago there was a fandom-wide event called the Loveball, where people gathered their OCs and had them all attend an UTMV dancing ball. Fresh went, of course. There, he met a Frisk called Pacifrisk. Even knowing who he really was [90's parasite], they still believed he could be good. Before this, he hadn't ever really felt a connection to anyone, or even positive emotions in general. But Pacifrisk's faith in him made him feel positively towards them. This freaked him out. [No Fr@ns though, don't worry. That wasn't the intention for this plot.]

As a result, not only did he try to kill them, but he also went through with his plans: the Fresh Takeover [I forget what it's actually called]. His true reason for attending the ball. OCs were either possessed by the parasites or tried to fight against them. Apparently, some people used alcohol to ward the virus off, as Fresh hates substances such as that.

Fresh wanted to take over the multiverse, with this Loveball being the first step for his total domination.

But then right in the middle of things, a Sans AU [which I totally forget the name of X,D] grabbed Fresh and basically yeeted him into an alternate state of being. One where he could see the creators, all staring at him. An audience.

The Sans revealed the nature of Fresh's existence: That he was simply a character in a story. And if the creators got bored of him, he could easily be written aside and forgotten. Erased. His conquest didn't matter, in the end.

Predictably, this gave him an existential crisis. I'm not sure what happened after, but he stopped invading and went somewhere to contemplate his existence in a depressed state.

Afterwards, he had a new goal: To entertain. To convince the creators that he was worth keeping around. Similar to his previous goal of survival, but now with more dire stakes."

His creator @loverofpiggies has some posts about the Loveball, tagged under either the 'fresh sans' tag or the 'loveball' tag, which I recommend you check out! ^^

But yeah, to answer your question: The reason Fresh fought Ink was probably 1: because he saw it as a good way to keep himself alive and 2: So that he could be relevant and interesting to the viewers.

Hope this answered any questions you might have about him! ^w^

THANK YOU BECAUSE THERE'S NO WAY I WOULD HAVE FOUND ABOUT ANY OF THIS OTHERWISE😭😭😭 THAT'S A LOT

Now I want to draw fresh existential crisis mood, That's something I never would have imagined existed

Im still a bit confused about fresh not having emotions¿ but I think I got the idea, but still, why does he feel fear?

I think fresh is becoming my favorite now, help, error do something

(Thank you again for your time✨️)

[hungermakesmonsters]

Devotion & Desire

Chapter Eight

Plot summary : When you, a lone omega, move in across the hall from alpha Bucky Barnes, he knows that his life is about to get a lot more complicated, but he has no idea just how much you’re going to turn his life upside down. You’re both devoted to fixing your past mistakes, but will desire for something more get the better of you?

Pairing : Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Angst and smut (but it's not angsty smut). All chapters will contain the usual omegaverse and A/B/O tropes, and explicit smut. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 7.9k

A/N : 😭😭 This is the last chapter which is why it's so freaking long (I probably should have turned it into two chapters but nevermind). I hope you love it.

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN

MASTER LIST

Chapter Eight

You didn’t sleep.

Despite knowing that, for the first time in years, you were finally safe, you didn’t sleep.

Every time you closed your eyes you saw him, you felt his teeth on your neck and his hands on your body.

Every time you closed your eyes you felt helpless and alone.

So, instead of sleeping, you dug out your sketch pad and started to draw. It was a mindless task to begin with, your hand seeming to move of its own accord, drawing the same thing you’d drawn countless times before; the Winter Soldier.

It had started as a way to remember, a way to get the violent images of your brother’s murder out of your head but, now, the man you were sketching wasn’t the cold, mechanical assassin who tortured your brother without blinking. He was Bucky. With soft blue eyes, filled with care and sadness. And, now, you needed to get him out of your head for very different reasons.

The hours blurred until, finally, you fell asleep at the table, pencil dropping from your hand.

A few hours later you were woken by the sound of a door closing and you crept to your peephole just in time to see Bucky leaving his apartment.

Your heart almost stopped as he paused and stared directly at your door as if he knew you were there. Then you saw him inhale through his nose like he was trying to find your scent. Only it wasn't there, with your gland gone, your scent was too weak to linger, and that thought made your chest hurt.

A moment later, he was gone.

For the first day you remained hidden away in your apartment but you knew you couldn't survive like that. You were still owed a fortnight's worth of wages from Gracie’s and you knew that you would need the money if you were going to find a new place to live.

The second day, you managed to slip out of the building unnoticed and get to Gracie’s without being recognised, and lingered outside in the cold for five long minutes, working up the nerve to step inside.

The moment Gracie saw you, her arms were around you and she was babbling about how worried she'd been and how the handsome alpha who used to walk you to work had told her you'd been hurt. Bucky. Bucky had been in to tell her that you were hurt - who else had he told?

You kept your hood up, covering your neck and most of the bandaging. She barely let you get a word in edgeways and, even though you knew it should have been heart-warming that she cared so much, all you felt was numbness knowing that you'd deceived her.

“I just need my last paycheck,” you finally managed to tell her.

“I'll get it for you and don't you worry you can come back to work whenever you're feeling up to it.”

“Back? No, I - I'm not coming back,” you said, confused and feeling worse than ever.

“I know it probably feels like that now, but you'll start to feel like yourself again in no time.”

You stood dumbfounded, not wanting to argue, not wanting to tell her that this was you and there was no going back to the person you'd been pretending to be. Gracie had always been so sweet and kind to you that you didn’t have the heart to ruin things between you.

With your paycheck she gave you an apple pie, commenting on how you looked like you hadn't been eating. You tried to refuse, then tried to offer to pay, but Gracie wouldn’t have it. She ushered you out the door, telling you to head home before the weather turned. 

Unfortunately, you could have done with that warning sooner, as the skies seemed to open the moment you were halfway home. Cold rain quickly soaked through your clothes and threatened to soak through the pie box too.

And that wasn’t even close to the end of your bad luck.

“Mouse!” 

You heard the call just as the elevator doors were closing and, for a brief and wonderful moment, you thought that you’d get away, but a hand slipped between the doors before they could close.

Nikki stepped into the elevator and you found yourself shrinking back.

“Didn’t you hear me?” She asked.

“I -” you didn’t know what to say so you stopped talking and just let out a sigh.

There was a moment of silence and you didn’t even notice that Nikki didn’t hit the button for her floor.

“Bucky told us what happened,” she said.

“Okay,” was all you could think to answer with. 

Again, you felt like you had at Gracie’s; like the moment was happening to someone else and you were just watching it unfold, knowing that there was nothing you could really do to change the predetermined outcome.

“You lied to us.”

“Yeah.”

“Why?” She asked.

The elevator dinged, the doors slid open and you started to move towards your door, completely on autopilot. Nikki followed after, not saying another word. And, as you stepped into your apartment, you left the door open so she could follow.

Kicking off your wet shoes, you made your way to the kitchen to put the pie box down before shrugging out of your wet hoodie, letting it drop to the floor. You didn’t realise your mistake until you heard Nikki inhale sharply at the bandaging around your neck.

“What happened?” She asked.

“I thought Bucky told you.”

“He said you’d been hurt, but he didn’t know how bad it was.”

You almost shrank back as she closed the distance to look at you, and you saw her face drop as she took in the sight of you.

“It's fine,” you muttered, shivering.

“Nothing about any of this is fine,” she said, ducking her head a little as she tried to get a better look at the bandaging.

You sighed knowing that she was right, but also knowing that it didn't matter anymore.

“What do you want, Nikki?”

“I wanted to see if you were alright, which clearly you're not.”

For the first time since you’d met her, you heard anger in her voice; anger that was directed at you. Your stomach knotted as you were, once again, stuck confronting the life you could have had if you hadn’t gone after Bucky.

“Does it matter anymore?” You asked, not bothering to hold back a tired, resigned sigh.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Bucky told you that I lied about everything, so why do you even care if I'm alright?”

“Because you're my friend.” She said friend, but the tone of her voice didn’t exactly carry the warmth of friendship.

“I'm not though, am I? You don’t even know me.”

“So you’re telling me that it was all lies? Every single second?”

Were you? Some part of you wanted to say yes, to act like you hadn’t enjoyed her and Jade’s company, that you’d just used the pair of them. But you couldn’t. It wasn’t true. It hadn’t all been an act, you did like them, and you regretted ever lying to them.

“No, but -” you took an awkward, shuddered breath, trembling from the cold of your damp clothes, “- I’m not that person. I’m not just some weak, dumb omega.”

“I never thought you were weak or dumb,” she countered, sounding genuinely offended. “None of us ever thought that.”

You could have had this, they would have accepted you. The thought comes to you unbidden and unwanted, and it’s enough to have you turning away from her, bracing yourself on the kitchen counter.

“Is that really what you thought?” Nikki continued. “That we only wanted you around because we thought you were some silly little omega who couldn’t look after herself?”

“That’s all anyone ever sees,” you answered back, tone turning sharp. “Poor little omega who needs to be protected because she can’t take care of herself, silly little omega who just needs an alpha, dumb little omega who -”

“Shut up. You’re the only one here who thinks any of that shit.”

“No, I’m not. Bucky thinks it,” you said softly, keeping your back to her. “He only sees me as an omega.”

“You’re wrong,” Nikki said, continuing when you let out a huff of disbelief. “You haven’t even seen him since you got back, have you?”

“No, why would I?”

“He’s a mess because of you, because of what happened to you. He cares about you.”

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t matter anymore either.”

“How can you say that, after everything he’s done to try and help you?” 

The anger had been slowly building, but now it seemed like it had reached a boiling point. Nikki was pissed and some part of you felt like maybe you’d been deliberately trying to rile her so she’d lose her temper and leave. But instead of leaving, she was standing her ground, trying to convince you that you were wrong.

“Because it doesn’t matter anymore,” you said again, finally turning back to face her, letting her get a good look at you, at how broken you were. “Even if I wanted to be what he wants me to be, I can’t. The man who took me, he...” tears seemed to come from nowhere, your voice breaking despite your best efforts to stay in control. “They had to remove my gland, I - I can’t even... I can’t...”

You started to turn away again, not wanting to face her until you had your emotions in check again, but before you could, Nikki’s arms were around you, pulling you into a tight hug.

“It’s okay,” she said softly.

“It’s not - it’s not. He broke me and I - I fucked everything up. Bucky just wanted an omega and I can’t even be that any more. I’m... I’m nothing now,” you sobbed.

It all started to come out, the upset and the trauma, the part of you that couldn’t come to terms with what had been done to you.

“You’re not nothing,” Nikki told you firmly. “You’re my friend.”

It didn’t matter, the words barely even sank in. You were lost to your spiralling thoughts but, after a few minutes, you managed to pull away from her.

“I’m - I’m fine,” you said, awkwardly scrubbing at your cheeks with your sleeve, doing your best to pretend your little outburst hadn’t just happened. “You should... you should go.”

“No,” was Nikki’s answer. Straight to the point. “I’m not leaving until I’ve gotten some answers.”

For a few seconds you just stared at her, wanting to argue but too exhausted to even get the first word out.

“Go sit down before you fall down,” Nikki ordered. “I’ll make a pot of coffee.”

You did as you were told, going along with it simply because it seemed easier than arguing. From your seat, you watched her moving around your kitchen as she had done so many times before. You were so tired that you didn’t even think to clear the table as she sat down and pushed a mug towards you.

“What’s this?” She asked, reaching for the stack of sketches you’d left on the table before you could stop her.

You felt your cheeks start to warm as she looked over the first few pages; some newer ones of Bucky, and some older of the Winter Soldier the night he killed your brother. For a few seconds you felt frozen before awkwardly trying to claw the sketches back.

“It’s nothing.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing,” Nikki countered, her expression somewhere between a smirk and worry.

“You said Bucky told you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m starting to think maybe he didn’t tell me everything. So, why don’t you start from the start?”

“Why?”

“Because you’re adamant that I shouldn’t think of you as my friend anymore, and I want to know exactly why,” she answered with a shrug.

For a moment you looked down at the drink she’d placed in front of you, your cold hands wrapping around the mug as you let out a heavy sigh.

“Fifteen years ago, the Winter Soldier killed my brother...”

You started from the start, telling her about your brother’s murder and how your quest for revenge had landed you with Rumlow, before explaining how you’d tracked Bucky down after the blip and concocted a plan to get close enough to kill him.

Then, in less detail, you explained the last couple of weeks, and how Bucky had cared for you during your heat. Nikki stayed silent, letting you explain it, right up to the hospital, then you just trailed off into a shrug.

“You didn’t let him see you?” She asked.

You shook your head and, instead of answering, you lifted your mug and took a drink. You’d been speaking for so long that your coffee was almost cold.

“Why not?” She asked.

“I don’t want him to see me like this, I don’t -” you hesitated for a second as you voice broke and your eyes threatened fresh tears, “- it’s just too much. Everything’s changed and there’s no way to fix it.”

“You’re not the only one who’s hurting,” Nikki said softly. “No matter what you think it’s pretty fucking obvious that he cares about you. And you -” she waved at the stack of sketches, “- you’ve clearly got unfinished business with him.”

And then, without warning, before you could even think to say anything, she was getting to her feet.

“Nothing you told me has changed anything,” she said decidedly, “we’re still friends.”

Speechless, you could only watch as she started to head towards the door. You didn’t know if she had somewhere to be or if she’d realised you desperately wanted to be alone - whatever it was, you were glad she was leaving.

“But,” she started again as she reached the door, glancing back at you over her shoulder, “as your friend, I think you owe it to yourself to talk to Bucky.”

She left before you could protest, before you could even tell her that you were planning on leaving and that it really didn’t matter anymore. You were left more confused than ever, not understanding how she could just shrug off everything that you’d done and declare that you were still her friend.

Didn’t you get a say? Didn’t you get to decide how she - how anyone - saw you?

(No. No, of course you didn’t. All this time you’d been trying so hard to control other people’s perception of you, but you were starting to realise that it was impossible.)

You spent the rest of the day in your apartment, looking for new places to live that you could actually afford (there was nothing). You ate some of the pie that Gracie had given you and, in the evening, you ended up at the table again with a pencil in hand.

You just wanted him out of your head; you wanted to forget the softness in his eyes before he’d kissed you that last time, and you wanted to forget how that softness had been replaced by fear and worry the last time you’d seen him as he’d been handing you off to paramedics. You’d always felt empty, but never like this before.

Again, you woke up slumped over a half-finished sketch, a half-hearted attempt to capture his smile on paper. Looking at it in the cold light of day, you weren’t happy with it. It seemed flat and dull, and it didn’t fill your stomach with butterflies the way his rare, happy smiles did.

A hot shower and a change of clothes had you feeling... well, not entirely human but functional at least. Washing around the bandages was a nightmare that had you choking back tears. It was almost funny how you could force away the thoughts of what had been done to you, only to find yourself retraumatised the moment you saw the bandages or moved your neck in such a way that it caused you pain.

The next issue to overcome was your kitchen. You’d never been one for stocking up and, what little you had had in the fridge had gone bad in the weeks that you’d been away, leaving you with nothing but the last of the apple pie to eat and, as much as you liked Gracie’s apple pie, even you knew that you couldn’t survive on it

So, again, you decided that you’d brave the outside world. 

You pulled your hood up and slipped out into the hallway but, as you went to lock the door, the keys slipped from your fingers. As you leaned down to pick them up, you heard Bucky’s door open and you froze, caught between thoughts of diving back into your apartment and fleeing down the hallway.

Indecision saw you doing neither and, instead, you picked up your keys and remained awkwardly frozen. You didn’t turn to look or lift your head, you just stood there.

“They let you out of the hospital,” he said, though there was an unspoken question behind his words; why didn’t you tell me?

You let out a soft sigh. “No, I - I checked myself out.”

“You checked yourself out?” He repeated, almost sounding worried. “Are you - are you okay?”

The shrug you gave was lost somewhere beneath the oversized hoodie. It was pointless to get into it and you were certain he wouldn’t understand. You’d never be alright again,

“Can we just -” he started again, an awkwardness filling his tone, “- can we talk?”

What was there to talk about? What was left? Still, you didn’t look at him.

Oh.

“I’m not going to try to kill you again if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Of course that was it. Of course that was all he cared about. 

Not waiting for his answer, for his relief, you started to walk away from him, feeling like you’d said all that needed to be said to him.

“Wait, that’s not -” he sighed, following after you, his hand finding your wrist and stopping you in your tracks, “- that’s not what this is about. You know that’s not what this is about, don’t you?”

His hand gave a tug on your wrist and, before you could think better of it, you obliged him and turned back towards him, still keeping your head down and your face obscured by the hood.

“Then what, Bucky?” You asked, not sure you wanted him to answer. “What happened was - you said it yourself, it was just biology. I’m an omega, you’re an alpha. Neither of us were thinking straight.”

“I was. And I think you were too, at least for the moments that count.”

You shook your head and took a step back, pulling away from his grasp.

You knew what he was talking about, all those little moments when you’d let your guard down; the night you’d slept in his arms on the floor, the time you’d fallen asleep with your head on his lap as he talked you through the pain, and the way you’d fucked him that final time, offering yourself to him.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” you answered back bitterly, knowing he wouldn’t want you if he knew about your injuries.

What alpha in their right mind would want an omega that couldn’t be claimed or mated?

“What are you talking about? Of course it still matters, it’s -”

“He ruined me, Bucky,” you interrupted. “They had to remove my mating gland. Now, I - I can’t even...”

Your voice broke and you forced yourself to stop, unwilling to cry in front of him, unwilling to show any more weakness.

While you’d never liked being an omega, never liked feeling like your only purpose in life was to be mated to some alpha, now you felt like only half a person. You weren’t even an omega anymore, you were something less than that. If you couldn’t be mated, you’d never be loved.

Three weeks ago that wouldn’t have bothered you but, since coming to terms with your brother’s death, you suddenly felt like your life was empty and there was nothing left for you.

“Let me see,” he asked softly.

You shook your head but made no effort to stop him as he stepped closer, and you didn’t pull away as his hand slowly pushed your hood down. You looked off to the side, refusing to make eye contact as his fingers ghosted over the bandaging. When you still refused to look at him, his hand cupped your cheek and he silently urged you to face him.

“This doesn’t change anything,” he told you with a certainty you hadn’t expected.

“Of course it does,” you said, taking a step back, out of his grasp again, acutely feeling the warm touch of his hand on your cheek. “I can’t even pretend to be a good little omega for you like this.”

Realisation hit him like a ton of bricks, almost flooring him. Those three little words that he’d let slip in the heat of the moment, exposing what he wanted, what he wanted you to be for him - not you as you were, but a good little omega.

His mouth opened but, for a few seconds, no words came out.

“That’s why you ran? Because I said that?”

It didn’t matter how he meant for it to sound, you only heard it the way you wanted to hear it; he thought you were stupid, he thought it was your fault for running off and getting yourself caught by Rumlow. You only had yourself to blame for not wanting to be a good little omega.

You turned and started walking away, feeling sick to your stomach.

“Stop, c’mon, just talk to me. Please,” he pleaded, following after you. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ve said it. I didn’t mean it like -”

“I’m not what you want, Bucky,” you said as you hit the elevator call button. “I wouldn’t play the good little omega for you even if I could.”

“Good,” he said, moving to stand in front of you, between you and the elevator doors, desperately trying to get you to look at him. “I don’t want an omega, I want you. The rest doesn’t matter.”

“What about biology?”

After all, that was what had started all of this, wasn’t it? If it hadn’t been for your heat the two of you would never have started getting close. And, now, you couldn’t satisfy his biological desires to mate and claim.

“Fuck biology. I’m not exactly a regular alpha, am I?” He answered back before repeating; “this doesn’t change anything.”

“It changes everything for me, Bucky,” you tried to explain. “I’ll never belong, I’ll never be loved, I’ll -”

“I love you,” he admitted clumsily and, suddenly, you felt like you were suffocating.

You took a step back, shaking your head, the emptiness inside you feeling like it was growing bigger, turning into a gaping chasm beneath your ribs.

“Don’t say that! Don’t lie to me!” You said, your voice cracking and breaking under the strain of it all.

“I don’t need to put a mark on your neck to know that I love you,” he carried on. “I don’t need you to belong to me, I want you to want to be with me.”

“Stop it! Stop saying that. You don’t love me. You can’t.”

Before he could answer, the elevator doors slid open and you quickly pushed past him, trying to get away. But Bucky followed after you, not willing to let you walk away.

“Don’t tell me how I feel,” he said, almost snapping. There was an anger in his tone that you hadn’t really heard before. “I’ve spent enough of my life being told how to think and feel, and I’ll be damned if I go back to that.”

“You don’t love me, Bucky. How could you? You don’t even know me,” you replied, hitting the button for the ground floor, far harder than necessary. “It’s not love, it’s some dumb alpha urge to claim an omega, and you can’t. No one can. Brock saw to that.”

“Will you just fucking listen to me? I don’t care about claiming you. I care about you,” he answered back without hesitation. “What are you so afraid of that you won’t even hear me out?”

Something inside of you snapped at those words and, before you could think about what you were doing, you were shoving him, your open hands slamming against his chest, barely moving him. Again and again, as hard as you could and, when he still didn’t move, you balled your fists and started to bring them down against him.

You weren’t afraid.

You weren’t weak.

You weren’t that scared little omega who hid away while her brother was being murdered.

You weren’t the pathetic little omega that Brock Rumlow had kept for all those years.

You weren’t the weak and tired little omega who couldn’t stop him from tearing your gland.

And you weren’t the sad little omega who’d cried because Bucky had left her to get breakfast.

You weren’t those things anymore. You couldn’t be that person anymore.

“I’m not afraid! I’m not afraid of anything!” You screamed as you hit him. “I’m not some scared little omega who needs protecting. I’m not -”

His arms closed around you, pulling you close, stopping your assault on him.

A sob clawed its way from your throat as you tried to escape his hold, but Bucky just held you tighter. Everything started to come out. You just couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“I know,” he said softly, “I know you’re not. You’re the bravest person I know, and I’m so sorry that I fucked up. You’ve always been so much more than an omega to me. I only said it because I thought that was what you wanted; I thought you just wanted an alpha. When you asked me if it was just about biology, I should have been honest. It was never about biology for me.”

And, just like that, he managed to turn everything you’d believed on its head.

You had thought that you were nothing more than an omega to him and, all the while, he’d  thought he was nothing more than an alpha being used to help you through your heat. How had you both gotten it so wrong? You managed to look up, at him, at the pained look on his face and all you wanted was to understand.

But it was too late.

You knew that you couldn’t handle the pain of almost having him and losing him again, not now, not after everything that you’d been through.

“Mouse, I -” 

He didn’t get a chance to finish.

The elevator doors slid open and you squirmed from his grasp, heading for the door and out onto the street, pulling your hood up as you went. You didn’t even stop as almost knocked over Nikki and Jade on their way into the building, and you certainly didn’t stop when you heard voices calling after you.

You lost yourself for hours, wandering through New York, ducking into the busy crowds of the city, losing yourself in the noise and the bustle - anything not to think about what had happened and what Bucky had told you. 

It felt cruel. It felt needlessly nasty for him to tell you that he loved you now that you couldn’t ever really be with him.

But, on the other hand, there was something else, something hopefully that you didn’t dare think about.

What if he really could love you as you were; unclaimable, unmateable?

It was dark when you returned home, exhausted and without the food that you’d originally left to get. You slipped into your apartment and wanted nothing more than to fall into your warm bed and sleep until all of your problems went away.

So, of course, you should have known that wasn’t how the evening was going to go.

The knock on the door came about fifteen minutes after you got in. At first you tried to ignore it but whoever it was wouldn’t stop.

Finally, you checked the peephole and saw Nikki and Jade standing in the hallway, not looking like they were planning on leaving before seeing you.

“Go away,” you muttered loud enough for them to hear.

“Not happening,” Jade answered. “Open up, we’ve got Thai food.”

“I don’t want -” you started only to find yourself interrupted by Nikki.

“You can either open up, or we can spend the rest of the night out here banging on the door, mouse.”

You knew that they would. You knew that you wouldn’t get a moment of peace until the pair of them got what they wanted.

With a sigh, you unlocked the door and slowly started to open it. That little gesture was more than enough to have the pair of them barging into your apartment before you could even think about reconsidering.

The moment you were hit by the smell of Thai food, your stomach let out an uncomfortable grumble.

As you closed the door, they made their way to your kitchen, grabbing plates and cutlery, before moving to the table and starting to set out the food. And you just watched, knowing there was nothing you could possibly say or do to stop them. You didn’t even flinch when Jade started to stack your sketches, taking a moment to look at them.

“You were right, these are really good,” she said to Nikki, and your cheeks instantly started to warm. “Have you shown them to Bucky?”

Your head shook and your gaze dropped, not wanting to think about the alpha across the hall or his declarations of love.

You were beckoned to the table and you took a seat as your favourite Thai dish was placed in front of you, along with a glass of wine.

“Not that this doesn’t look great but... why are you doing this?” You finally asked.

“Because you’re our friend and I saw how empty your cupboards were yesterday,” Nikki shrugged, tucking into her own meal. “You’ve been through a lot and we wanted to make sure you’re looking after yourself.”

“And you looked upset earlier,” Jade added softly.

“And that,” Nikki agreed. “So, are you gonna tell us what happened, or should we ask Bucky?”

With a sigh, you slumped back on your chair, not even managing to take a single bite of food before the conversation shifted to that awkward place. They were Bucky’s friends, you had to remind yourself, of course they were worried about him.

(But, clearly they were your friends too, otherwise they wouldn’t have brought you your favourite food, right? Could it really be possible that they wanted the best for you and Bucky?)

“He told me he loves me,” you confessed, voice quiet, feeling uncertain about saying it aloud as if you were scared it would sound completely ridiculous coming from your mouth.

“And what did you say?” Nikki prompted.

You stalled by reaching for your wine glass and taking a long drink, but they waited, neither of them saying a thing.

“I told him that he couldn’t love me, I’m not -”

“That is such bullshit.”

“Nikki,” Jade said, chastising her girlfriend for her tone, but Nikki didn’t seem to care.

“Of course he loves you. Look at everything he’s been through for you,” Nikki said. “If you don’t love him, that’s fine, that’s your choice, but you don’t get to dictate how he feels about you.”

She was right.

You hated that she was right, hated that it reminded you of what he’d said about people telling him how to think and feel. You were no better than the people who’d hurt him.

“I can’t be what he wants me to be,” you tried again, not really sure who you were trying to convince anymore.

“What does he want you to be?” Jade asked.

“What did he ask you to be?” Nikki added, almost as if she could sense you were going to answer with what you thought rather than what Bucky had told you himself.

“Me,” you answered, your voice turning quieter still. “He said he just wanted me to be me.”

Your stomach hurt and it wasn’t the hunger pangs causing it.

Bucky wanted you. 

He was the first person to ever want you.

He wanted you even now with your gland gone. 

He wanted you, even though you had nothing to offer him.

It was never about you being an omega or him being an alpha. He saw you as a person and he’d let you see him as one too. And, for that, you’d tried to push him away.

A tear rolled down your cheek and, instead of continuing the conversation, you reached for your fork and started to eat.

Nikki and Jade stayed silent, letting you process everything, letting you reach your own conclusions in your own time. You didn’t look at them, but you could feel their gazes wandering to you every now and then as they ate. There wasn’t much to say after that though, for the rest of the meal, you found yourself thinking over every little moment you’d shared with Bucky, re-examining it under a new lens.

He’d brought you your favourite cereal.

He’d held you under the freezing cold water of the shower to help with your fever.

He’d always let you decide what you wanted from him, he’d never once tried to push or tried to convince you, and he’d only ever kissed you when you let him.

He’d trusted you enough to tell you about his time with Hydra.

If he’d wanted an omega, he could have claimed you the last time you’d had sex. You’d offered him your neck, your gland, and if he hadn’t said those three little words, you would have let him claim you.

When the conversation started up again, it was muted and you only half listened as Jade and Nikki spoke, clearing up the mess before letting themselves out. Nikki lingered in the doorway, telling you she’d be back tomorrow and all you could offer in response was a nod. 

Already, you were starting to understand that there was no getting rid of her and, now you’d had a chance to think about it, you didn’t want to. You didn’t want to be alone anymore.

You were left with your thoughts and you kept circling back to the same thing. Bucky.

A few hours had passed since Nikki and Jade left when you found yourself slipping out of your apartment and into the hallway, eyes fixed on Bucky’s front door.

His scent lingered outside his door, stronger than you remembered it ever being. You found yourself closing your eyes and breathing it in, remembering what it was like to be wrapped up in his arms, face pressed against his neck, basking in his scent.

Before you could second guess or change your mind, you stepped forwards, knocking on his door. 

Ten seconds passed - long enough for you to take a step back, to start to think you might be making a mistake. But then the door opened.

Your eyes went wide when you saw him, wearing nothing but his boxers, his skin flush. He took one look at you and, suddenly, you felt breathless, smothered by his scent and inexorably drawn to him. Shit, you realised entirely too late, his rut had hit.

“What?” He asked.

You could see his knuckles turning white where he gripped the door, anchoring himself in place, like he didn’t trust himself not to reach for you.

“I just - I -” you started and stopped, struggling to find the words. “I wanted to say I was sorry.”

“For what?”

And that was the million dollar question, wasn’t it?

“Everything. What I said earlier, how I’ve been acting, I -” you shook your head. A moment later, you noticed the way his chest was rising and falling and you knew that it was a stupid time to try and have a heartfelt conversation. “A-are you okay?”

“Fine, just -”

“Your rut?”

Bucky nodded.

Part of you wanted to shrink back, to retreat to your apartment, but another part of you was sick of running.

Instead of stepping back, you stepped forward, pushing against the door and into his apartment. Bucky moved out of the way, a confused expression on his face. But, despite his uncertainty, you could tell he was still in control of himself. You could tell that you’d always be safe with him.

He let the door fall shut as he turned to face you, not moving towards you, letting you decide what you wanted - if you wanted anything at all.

And that was precisely why you took a step towards him, closing the distance so you could place a hand on his bare chest, right above his racing heart. His skin was hot to the touch, clammy, but it was nowhere near as bad as you had been expecting. His rut must have only just started in the last couple of hours.

“Did you mean it?” You asked softly.

“Every word. I love you.”

You leaned closer, wrapping your arm around his waist and resting your head on his chest. Bucky pressed his nose into your hair and inhaled deeply, as if you were his and your scent alone would see him through this. But the second he realised what he was doing, he pulled back a little.

“What are you doing here?” He asked.

“You helped me...”

“Help? Is that all it is?” His voice betrayed his pain at the thought and had your stomach tying itself in knots.

“I - I don’t know what it is, Bucky,” you confessed, lifting your head to look him in the eyes again. “I want to be here. I want to be with you, but I can’t be yours...”

“I don’t need you to belong to me. I just want you to let me love you.”

“What if I can’t?” You asked, giving away your insecurities. “I don’t know how. What if I fuck it up?”

“You won’t,” he answered. “Can we just try?”

Despite your fears, you managed a nod, and it was all the sign that Bucky needed.

His hands framed your face and he kissed you. He kissed you like it was the first time all over again, he kissed you like a man starved of affection, like a man who really did love you. You pressed closer to him, both arms wrapping around his waist as you finally surrendered to what you wanted.

“Tell me this is okay?” He muttered against your lips. “I don’t want to rush you or hurt you.”

Your heart bled at his compassion, the way he was putting you first even though he was going through his rut, and you knew that he’d stop if you asked him to. But you didn’t. You didn’t want it to stop. No, you wanted something good to finally come from all the bad.

“It’s okay,” you said. “Please, don’t stop.”

He lifted you off your legs quickly wrapped around him as he carried you into the bedroom. 

It felt like that first night all over again, only this time you weren’t going to ruin it. 

He sat with you on his lap and, already, you could feel the press of his erection between your thighs and it was enough to cause you to squirm, your hips eagerly rocking against his. Little moans and whimpers quickly started to spill from your lips and into his, but it wasn’t enough. 

(When it came to Bucky, nothing would ever be enough.)

Pulling back a little, you sank to your knees between his legs, tugging his boxers down. You were sure to keep your hands where he could see them, your fingers gripping his thighs as you bowed your head and parted your lips. Bucky’s fingers tangled in your hair, but he didn’t try to move you, he let you go at your own pace. 

A low and breathy groan spilled from him as the tip of his cock slipped between your lips and you started to lightly suck, running your tongue over his slit and lapping up everything that leaked from him.

Looking up at him, you felt yourself wanting to submit, wanting to give yourself to him in whatever way that you could. His heavy scent already had slick pooling between your thighs, eager to feel him inside you again. 

One of your hands moved to grip the base of his cock as your lips sunk down it and you felt him twitch in your mouth, the thick vein on the underside of his shaft throbbing with every little move you made. 

You started slowly, bobbing your head and dragging your lips up and down him, letting out the sweetest little moans for him, while Bucky panted and groaned like he was already on the brink. Your eyes watered as he nudged the back of your throat, but you didn’t let that stop you, you just blinked and carried on.

His mouth went slack and you could see him fight against himself, desperately trying to hold back. That was when you doubled down. Hollowing your cheeks against him, you moved faster, chasing your lips with your hand, making sure no inch of his cock went untouched.

“Fuck, mouse, I’m -” he tried to warn you but it was too late.

Bucky groaned your name as his cock started to pulse, his hip bucking upwards as he started to fill your mouth. You stayed where you were, lips wrapped tight around him, your eyes fixed on his.

(Fuck. How were you only just noticing how beautiful he was when he came?)

Finally, you sat back on your heels, wiping your lips with the back of your hand as you looked up at him.

“So that’s what that feels like when you don’t try to stab me,” Bucky joked breathlessly, a ridiculous grin tugging at his lips.

You tried your best to suppress a laugh, but it managed to escape you. And it reminded you why him, why you wanted this (whatever this ended up being).

He reached for you, helping pull you back onto his lap so he could kiss you again, groaning as he tasted himself on your lips. Almost immediately, he was hard again, and you were quickly tugging off your shirt and bra.

“Mouse, are you sure?” He asked again, barely able to pull himself from your lips.

“Yes, Bucky,” you told him just as desperately. “I want you.”

He turned, dropping you onto your back on the bed and pulling off your leggings and panties, leaving you completely bared to him. Without thinking or waiting for him to say anything, you got on all four, presenting yourself to him, but you quickly found yourself flipped onto your back again.

“I want to see your face, mouse. I want to see all of you,” Bucky told you.

You watched as he crawled onto the bed and over you, his hands and lips skimming up your stomach and over your chest until he was above you.

As you pulled him down into another eager kiss, he slipped a hand between your legs. You gasped against his lips as two fingers slid into your slick pussy and started to grind yourself against his hand, desperate to show him that you wanted this.

You were already so worked up from sucking his cock that you easily fell apart for him, and you knew that was precisely what Bucky wanted from you. He wanted you to be ready for his cock and, while he was doing everything he could to try and make this about your pleasure as much as his own, you could tell his rut was taking its toll on his patience. 

You moaned his name when you felt the press of his cock at your entrance and arched your back at the all too familiar feeling of him slowly filling you. Your arms wrapped tight around him and your thigh hitched on his hip. It was perfect, amazing. It was all you’d ever need.

He stilled inside you once you’d taken every inch, staring down at you, checking for any signs of discomfort.

“It’s okay,” you said in a low whine. “I’m okay. Bucky, please -”

Bucky didn’t make you beg (though you were sure you would have). His hips started to move, slowly at first, but the gentle pace didn’t last for long. You eyes rolled back and your back bowed, pressing your body against his as he finally gave in to his base instincts and let his rut control him.

It didn’t take much for you to come again, crying out beneath him as he fucked you through your orgasm, letting out the filthiest sounds you’d ever heard from him as he did. Every drive of his hips forced a moan from you, and every sound was in worship of him and what he was doing to you.

“Fuck, Bucky!” You almost screamed, not even caring to think about how half the building might be able to hear you.

He kissed you to stifle some of the noise that you were both making and it wasn’t long before you were coming again for him, your body seeming to want to completely submit to him and everything he was doing.

After an unspecified amount of time, his thrusts started to become shorter, more desperate.

“Mouse...” he warned, his voice an awkward gasp, not stopping or slowing.

Rationally, you knew what letting him come inside you meant during his rut, but you didn’t want to think rationally. You wanted this. You wanted Bucky. You wanted to submit to him and take his knot.

“Don’t pull out,” you finally gasped, your fingers pressing into his back, holding him tight against you.

There was no telling if it was your words or just the fact that he’d been close, but the moment you finished speaking, you felt him start to pulse inside you. The sensation alone was enough to push you into another orgasm, your walls fluttering and trembling as you felt his knot start to swell inside you, trapping you together.

Your eyes rolled back and a series of desperate moans spilled from you.

“Alpha,” you groaned, giving yourself over to him completely, your eyes closing.

Your head moved, presenting your bandaged neck, even though you knew he couldn’t mark you or claim you. His hand gripped your chin, turning your face towards him as he leaned in and kissed your lips.

“I love you,” he groaned into your mouth before kissing you again.

When he finally came up for air, he pressed his forehead to yours, still panting, still completely overwhelmed. You reached up, fingers running through his sweat-damp hair, just as overcome by the moment as he was. You’d never experienced a moment like this and you quickly understood why.

“I - I love you too, Bucky,” you confessed.

Your arms gripped tight around him, letting him know that you didn’t want him to move, that you were happy with the weight of him on top of you while his knot locked into place and he came inside you, his cock twitching as it pumped you full. You nuzzled against his neck, intoxicated by his scent, completely overwhelmed in a new and amazing way. 

“Stay with me,” he asked breathlessly. “Not as my omega, but as the person I love.”

“Yes,” you answered without a second of hesitation.

End Note : And that's the end😭 I've had a blast writing this. I never thought I'd enjoy writing omegaverse this much so that's been an interesting discovery. I might come back to this and write an epilogue but I'm actually pretty happy with where this ended; it's open enough that I can come back to it for a second fic but it's also sweet enough that I don't think (or at least I hope) no one is disappointed??

Thanks so much for sticking with this, I really hope you've enjoyed it. I know I'm not great with comments and reblogs but I promise I do read every response that I get even if I don't get around to replying and it's really meant so much to read everything you've all had to say about this one! (also same goes for comments on Ao3)

I do have a potential idea for another Bucky fic in future, so feel free to stick around for that (it won't be until the new year because working retail over the holidays is draining enough without starting a new fic).

As always, reblogs/comments/likes/asks are always appreciated. Thanks so much for reading, hope you have a great day!

Tag List : @greatenthusiasttidalwave @bighappypiels @maddiedrmr @dreadfulxives18 @scott-loki-barnes

@thecraziestcrayon @silas-aeiou @danzer8705 @notpotatocap @prttylight

@skittslackoffilter @mcira @chimchoom @highwaytomichelle

[aspionagee]

First off-- I'm a HUGE fan of your writing, you have no idea how stoked I am for the next installment of A Patchwork Family. I was never a fan of severitus before I came across your fic by chance but your writing is so good it turned me onto it.

I was wondering if you had any severitus fic recs? I saw you post something about crime and punishment and gave that one a read (SO good), and since it seems you have incredible taste to go along with your incredible writing skills I was hoping you could help me out 💚

Thank you very much for the question! I actually have a ton of fic recs for Severitus, and I've been meaning to make a list for a while, so in no particular order here it is!

1. A Year Like None Other by aspeninthesunlight

This fic is also very special to me, and directly inspired A Patchwork Family. Snape ends up adopting Harry and Draco during their sixth year. It was written before the sixth and seventh books even came out, so there's a very fascinating plot!

2. To Trust by Clairdeloon

This one has a runaway Harry being sent to live with Snape after the Dursleys die before his first year. If you like angst this is the one to go for; it hurts so much but it's so worth it.

3. Time Left Today by gzdacs

After the situation with Quirrell, Harry is wanted by the Ministry for questioning. Snape is forced to transport him across Europe to hide him (with things progressively going more and more wrong!). Very enjoyable fic

4. Tension's Empathy: The Wanderers Curse by yarrowmirth

Another "Harry and Snape on the run" one, set after fifth year. I particularly enjoy how long it takes Snape and Harry to warm up to each other! It's also criminally underrated. I check so often for updates you have no idea

5. Grease & Lightning by Mothboss

Would highly recommend this and its sequel, Acid Reigns. Features Snape semi-accidentally acquiring eight-year-old Harry(with some of the best, age-accurate writing of a child I've ever seen). He takes on a protective big brother role and it's so perfect! Acid Reigns also uploads every Tuesday without fail, which I always look forward to

6. obscured by illisius

A recent fic discovery for me, where Obscurial Harry is sorted into Slytherin and Snape has to help him. I am rarely in this much pain when reading a fic, oh my god. The ANGST. It's just so perfect, and I'm so excited to see what's coming next for the universe!

7. The Potions Master and his Golden Boy by HazelEyes25

If you like your Severitus slowburn, this is the one. During Harry's second year, Snape slowly goes from Harry's mentor figure to guardian. It's full of lots of nice hurt/comfort!

8. aim & ignite by shostakobitch

The only biological father Severitus on this list, and HEAR ME OUT! Because if Snape turned out to be Harry's biological parent, this is EXACTLY how it would have gone down. Snape is perfectly canon; he is the horrible, snarky and cruel man from book canon even as he learns how to be a caring man to his child. Such a hard balance to strike, but it is done PERFECTLY. It also features Girl!Harry which I very rarely see in Severitus. With the beautiful prose thrown in on top, all I can do is beg you all to give this a go! So worth a read!!

9. O Mine Enemy by KirbyLane

This is a classic! I've not read it in a while and it's next on my reread list. Again, very good characterisation. Both Harry and Severus feel very human. Takes place during fifth year, and switches up canon a bit which I always like!

10. Crime and Punishment by Melolcatsi

Just in case anyone else didn't see the Crime and Punishment rec, I want to still put it here. This is one of the first Severitus fics I ever read, and it's so very special to me! Harry gets sent to live with Snape in the summer after fourth year when he is falsely accused of stealing. Snape's characterisation in particular is stunning

I could keep rambling on for hours, but this is essentially my top ten! I hope you all enjoy!

[thatswhatsushesaid]

well i think it has finally happened: my multi-year-long hyperfixation on jin guangyao is starting to wane 🥲 and not because he isn’t still my specialist little guy, aka the most interesting and compelling character in mdzs. i think i’m always going to love and adore him, and by extension xiyao and lan xichen and su she. i can’t see that changing, ever; he’s going to become like robin hobb’s fool for me, a fixture in my heart, a delightfully unexpected gift from another book i didn’t realize would change my life the way it did. truly some characters just become a part of you when you think and write about them long enough.

i just… think i have finally said everything i really need and want to say about him. i don’t have many New Thoughts i’m just chomping at the bit to share, or much motivation to revisit cql or the novel to seek out inspiration for More Thoughts. checking the tags just feels like something i do out of habit now, and not because i’m actually that invested in finding new fic or art. and while the bad takes have always left me tired and annoyed in the past, they do something much worse now: they just leave me bored. boredom is the ultimate creativity killer.

to be clear, i don’t have any plans to abandon this blog or stop posting! i’ll probably also keep my sideblogs going for as long as i can still track down some screenshots that are worth sharing, or maybe i’ll start reblogging and resharing older screenshots. i’d like to find a way to make my meta more easily searchable and shareable so that people who find my blog later can make use of my writing. and i still have some fic ideas i’d like to explore, and doing so while being less engaged on tumblr might be a better use of my time anyway.

so tl;dr i’m not necessarily going anywhere, i’m not bouncing from the fandom, but if it seems like i’m around less, or like my unhinged obsession with jin guangyao actually seems to have some hinges on it all of a sudden… well, now you know why lol.

[professeurm]

so, uh, I do this thing when I'm bored or need to calm myself and that's telling myself a story. typically i do fics and in my head unless im completely alone. yes, I love talking to myself

these stories goes on and on, like i flesh out a whole plot and everything. it might as well be a whole book and sometimes it helps me get pass a trick part in a fic im writing or helps me work out the plot. it also sometimes gets written down because I'm like "this worth writing down"

this going to be long. read if you dare 😂

now the reason why I'm telling yall this is because my best buddy, @the-torchwood-magician , got me hook on Malcolm Merlyn. We both love his character and would talk for hours about him like we're teenagers in heat 🤣🤣

we also both love Ianto Jones and I honestly do not need explain why 😂. They introduce me to a ship, which I had no clue it existed, that consisted of Malcolm and Ianto. Even introduced me to a few fics and let me tell yall, I'm interested and hook.

My current story I'm telling myself consist of the pair, where Ianto gets hire as Malcolm assistant (similar to how Felicity is Oliver assistant) and Malcolm is suspicious that the young man is perfect for the job, even perfect for a higher position. Which shocks him because either something isn't right or the guy is just really smart for his age and modest.

He hires him anyway because of his genuine curiosity and Ianto fits in quickly. He works hard and efficiently, even knows what Malcolm needs before he asks him. Malcolm grew fond of him, appreciate his contribute to the company and him. Though that didn't make his suspicions go away so he did a background check. clean records so he had to go old fashion, but little does he knows Ianto isn't the one to share or talk.

yes, this a love story. a slow one in matter of fact

they're relationship won't have a label. this is because I'm pulling a James Wilson, which is Ianto is convinced he's straight but he's still in the closet and in denial despite having feelings for his boss/friend. Also Malcolm heart belongs to his dead wife so he's sort torn between that and his new boy lover.

this won't have a happy ending... letting yall know. I'm like a rabid dog when there's a happy ending, but there will be a twist in the end. basically a cliffhanger

question is... should I put this on ao3..

[azaharinflames]

I just want to get over this. Like why am I still so sad about that how many weeks later? But I am. And I also want to hold out hope but maybe it’s better to quit because the not knowing for sure and just being sad all the time is a lot.

Hi, @phillystrega! Thanks for your ask <3

Listen, I fully get it. Real talk here, I spent a solid week with constant anxiety after 806 - granted, it wasn't just because of 911, it was sort of the straw that broke the camel's back after a lot of shit had happened in the world and my personal life, so.

At the end of the day, 911 was supposed to be our comfort show. And I think, having something like this happen, seeing everything that has happened before, has made it so it stopped being that, and that's bound to hurt.

Your feelings are normal. It was more than a couple we liked breaking up - in context, sure, but also in what meant right after. I said it right after - it truly felt like they responded to the love we tried to send into the world with hate, and they responded to hate from that side of the fandom with love.

It wasn't entirely like that. But at the time it very much felt like that. And it's normal to still be dealing with feelings surrounding that.

Here is my advice (feel free to not take it if it's shit lol):

Focus on life in the fandom if it's fun for you. The BuckTommy fandom truly helped me process my feelings and channel them toward something more positive. Talk to people, be creative, see everyone's art and posts... it truly is healing.

Block anything that threatens your peace of mind. That being accounts, hashtags, or even keywords, so you don't find it in your dash.

Go back to your comfort shows if you have any, or try to find a new one if you feel you need to latch onto a new one. I'm here if you want suggestions. No joke, binge-watching Modern Family made me feel incredibly better.

If you have a hobby, dedicate some time to it. Or try a new one if you want. I had to embroid a tote bag for one of my best friend's birthday and honestly, it truly helped. So much so I want to do some embroidery as Christmas ornaments - we'll see how that works lmao (I sound 60 when I'm mid-twenties, dear God).

All of this will slowly take you out of this mentality, mostly because you will focus on other things. I realized I was focusing too much on how all of this was making me feel - and as much as it's healthy to face our feelings and know where they come from, we don't want to fall into a cycle, or drown in them.

After all of this, with a bit more perspective, maybe it's easier to make the decision of either continue, or move on. You can also stay in the fandom and enjoy it with no expectations, maybe check every once in a while how canon is doing. And if at some point you decide it's worth checking again, you can do it. And if you decide to fully move on, that will also be okay. Overall - protect your peace.

This was very long, but I truly hope it helped you, even if it was a little.

My inbox is always open to rant, vent, or discuss (911 or whatever you want).

Take care <3

[orangez3st]

What actually happened to Rex's batchmates?

Here's my take on this, because atm I'm writing a fanfic about Cadet!Rex as well so I'm appealing for his fanon cadet fate.

I respect both "Rex's batchmates are all decommissioned because the whole batch is defective but Cody and the others saved him so now he's got PTSD from child ab**e" and "Rex got bullied because of his mutated blond hair" fanons (uh hey where did this begin? Had those been widely accepted headcanon that it became fanon eventually? I'm revisiting this fandom and am just stepping my foot into the fanon so maybe safe to say I'm kinda-but-not-really new) but... Hear me out.

(Future me, approx 2 hours after starting this post: okay this post turns out to be so long you might wanna sit down)

Disclaimer again; I don't hate those fanons but it's kinda bothersome to me (so cruel omg idek if he'd been really strong for, what, just 10 years haunted by child ab**e trauma, based on majority fic depiction? and said trauma lasted into the clone wars even? uh, really? more in 10) that I've pieced the puzzle myself on how one may approach this matter from another angle.

Facts i (we) know about clones

As far as we know, they have batchmates and squadmates.

Not only are they genetically engineered with accelerated physical stamina, they are also capable of withholding more stress than the average natborn. This is due to the fact that war soldiers generally suffer PTSD and the Kaminoans wanted to create Tupperware clone army. Thus, to a certain extent, genetically, clones prove to be more emotionally stable – mind you, that doesn't mean they're not immune to PTSD and other related traumas. There were clones who defected from the army just because they couldn't handle it anymore. As cruel as this might sound, yeah; there's something wrong with their programming.

There are 3 known mass-produced clone types: CT (Clone Trooper), CC (Clone Commando), and RC (Republic Commando). Each type is made? cloned? bred? separately. Obviously.

Clones are engineered to be obedient and submissive to order and structure. CT has the most extreme levels of this alteration, meanwhile CC has less, due to their supposed strategic position in command they have to adjust to every possible scenario thrown at them, eventually concocting tactically effective battle plans.

Mutations and defective traits are different. Mutations are uniquely positive and genetically induced or by experiment, while defective traits pop up due to poor maintenance or accidents. Kaminoan scientists are willing enough to tolerate mutations as long as it causes no further problems (like Blue Eyes), while they deem the ones with defective traits totally unfit for combat (like 99).

So, to stress and/or narrow them down:

Clones, regardless of type, are capable of handling more stress and adapting to situations quickly.

#GodlikeKaminoanEngineering (or so they say): Nothing wrong with programming = wouldn't suffer trauma and/or related disorders. (Idk if this hypothetically would apply irl. If there's any legit research about this particularly, point me to the journal article lol I'd love to check it out tho I'm not a huge bio fan. Intriguing all the same.)

Nothing wrong with programming = wouldn't defect. Clone Force 99 is a special case, though. (This point is completely unrelated to Rex but I think still worth mentioning)

CT's aren't that much capable of putting all hands on deck in strategy talks (that's what the CC's are for). All they know is to wait for orders from command and follow them thoroughly and make sure the job's done. However, they may or may not develop those traits themselves and finally take initiative basically becoming a kriffin badass CC intern, like Rex.

Genetic mutations, as we know or may assume, consist of change in physical appearance. This could mean lighter skin tone, not-Jango-Fett eye color, or not-so-Jango-Fett hair color. This is due to recessive genes. Jango's sister Arla has natural blond hair, you guys.

Therefore, from my perspective, Rex is in possession of genetic mutations and definitely not defective traits.

Combined with his standard CT emotional intelligence, excellent combat skill, his (pre-Skywalker) undying love for order and structure, and if not little acts of valor that undeniably has to show during his cadet years (I mean it would carry on into his ARC training and first months of the Clone Wars that he's given jaig eyes), I see no reason why he would be bullied and shunned by the rest of his batch.

If any, they regard him with so much respect because he shines – gloriously – throughout his training and essentially be the local pride. He's their brother, after all! Their vod! That's how he would've caught Cody and the other's attention too.

☝🏼🤓 I do accept the fanon that he's a batch behind them. I can't think of a reason. Might as well be freeform. And it's cute.

So.

That's the baseline, for clones.

Now we move on to the man himself.

(on gif above) That is so Cody-coded, Rex.

(1) Decommissioned batchmates

Tbh not sure what being decommissioned means, but given the generally grim and threatening implication that it strikes enough terror and neck-breaking amount of trauma to Rex of this fanon, it's gotta mean being terminated(?). Correct me if I'm wrong, but for now I'm rolling with that.

Rex exhibits excellent capabilities on field during his training that it easily captures his trainer's attention. A transfer to the CC command training sounds possible, I think, since y'know, Ponds is a CT as well and I'd like to think he's above Rex that the rank Commander is permissible for him (yes yes Rex is given the Commander promotion but he turned it down because he favors fighting up in the front with his men I am a firm believer of this as well). So he just gets separated from his batchmates and situated himself in the new brotherhood.

Also here's my baseless debunking because I just don't know any of those biology-related stuff.

I just don't think every single of his batchmates are so defective that the Kaminoans pulled the genoc**e card. It's just... Not possible. Math and probability, anyone? Hello?

Assuming the only reason for being decommissioned is for possessing defective traits so bad that it's worse than 99, the Kaminoans have no excuse to pull the genoc**e card just because a clone gets blond hair instead of Jango's black hair. As much as I support them being the most ultimate of assholes, I don't think they'd waste resources just like that.

So, in conclusion of this one; I think not. Rex's batchmates are very much alive and well and kicking droid ass during campaigns :)

(2) Traumatized Rex

Fanon: Rex with child ab**e trauma and, in conjunction, PTSD because he witnessed his batchmates get decommissioned.

I shall assume he carries this trauma even to the Clone Wars period.

Oh hang on, okay, he's defective because he's traumatized? Or is it the other way around; he gets traumatized that it somehow affects his already-defected emotional intelligence? What about his coping mechanism, is it defected as well? If the decommissioning of his brothers affects him so much he couldn't cope and carries with him the trauma, I don't think he'd be fit to go further since the start, or even earn those jaig eyes.

One thing about Rex is that he's brave. Since we're working with existing materials to create this headcanon, and that the jaig eyes itself is important, the jaig eyes still gotta be there. He earns it because he commits acts of valor in the battlefield ��� because he is a man of honor. Rex is very much aware of his emotional state, aware of the proper time and place; when to break down and when to put on a strong façade, because he's that selfless. He puts his men first. He cares about his men. He regards every single troop as his brother. First in, last out. An inspirational figure with strong will, always trying his best being the prime example and morale to his men.

Aside from the genetic stress inhibitor traits, Rex is a strong man, physically and mentally. In line with my previous point about how implausible and improbable it is that every single of his batchmates gets decommissioned, with this fanon scenario, I don't think Rex would be some guy who easily succumbs to trauma. He'd push on through and survive, and lo and behold. Canon-wise, he does. Still does.

(3) Why is he bullied 😭

My poor little meow meow of a heart can't take it. I don't know what this version of Rex is supposed to be bullied for? But if it's because of his blond hair IT'S NOT DEFECTIVE TRAIT it's genetic mutation. Even the majority of the clones sport black hair and brown eyes Jango style and only some of them sport brown hair or lighter, and even fewer of blond hair. And the Kaminoans allow it, as seen in 302.

Look at him he's precious. Some may think he's overrated, but he's just being him. No wonder he's majority's favorite. So with all that said, I rest my case.

Sorry that took so long and much of your time, but for my part, I'm glad I got those out of me. I might write my Rex and the other's headcanon in the future. Mentioned I'm writing a Cadet!Rex fic, so there's the link, if you're interested.

And don't get me started with the natural vs dyed blond thing. I'm a firm believer that Rex is a natural blond, and I've written the reason somewhere above.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk. You may use this headcanon in your adaptations if you'd like. Cheers!

[ghouljams]

Hi, Ghoul. Apologies for kinda venting (?) on your asks, and please ignore this if you'd like, but how does one cope with the idea (and, quite possibly, reality) of being alone for the rest of their life?

I've never been the most confident individual in my years of being alive. I'm not conventionally attractive, and I've been battling with my perception of self for like, basically my entire life. Never really had romantic relationships, other than unrequited and secret crushes. At first, I thought to myself that I could deal with being alone and unloved in that way, but I figured as I grew older that maybe I'm just trying to be tough about it. I want to have the kind of love that other people have, envious as I may sound. I want to be able to look at myself and think, "wow, despite my flaws, someone still took the risk to get to know me and chose to stay."

Of course, this is not to say that the love my tight-knit circle of friends and family aren't adequate. I'm just curious. And hopeful that someday I get to have that other kind of love.

That said, I really love your works and I am privileged to be able to read them :)) it's always such a delight to see your rambles and reblogs in my dash. <3 Hope everything is going well for you.

Hello my love. You already know I'm going to suggest therapy so I'm going to get that out of the way early.

Here's the meat of it. There are thousands upon millions of people who feel exactly the same way you do and I truly believe this is because of the way western society has structured its media/propaganda. So much of the media we consume is loaded with this idea that romantic love is this totally different thing that will complete your life and show you how worthy you are if only you can find it.

This is a load of horse shit.

One of the unhappiest times of my life was spent in my first relationship. I actually had a harder time loving myself because I was scrambling to prove I was worth being loved by a person who liked me in theory but in practice frequently flaked on dates and didn't care about my emotional wellbeing.

I say all of that because I had your same attitude of "despite my flaws they're choosing to stay with me" and ultimately she left me. Over text. It was a whole thing.

So many of you talk about being "old" and "destined to be alone" and you're like 25. Hell even if you're 50, people find love at any age, but the only way to find anyone good is to be comfortable with the fact that romantic love isn't the end all be all of love. You can fall in love with anyone, that doesn't make it a good relationship. It just means you're in love.

Also what do you mean "someone took the risk?" Are you a serial killer? Do you set fire to police cars? You sell meth? What risk do you pose to anyone? You're sad and have low self esteem. So what? That makes you a risky prospect? Your flaws of *checks notes* talking down about yourself is such a huge hurdle that it's a grave danger to anyone that wants to date you?

And I'm sorry I feel like I'm getting sort of mean but you got me in older sibling mode with this and so you're getting big sister shit.

I just- like if you truly believe that you are such a burden to date then you aren't going to get what you want out of a relationship. You'll become obsessed with the first person that reciprocates your affections and it will spiral into something that hurts you. I am speaking from experience.

My dear, i am a stranger on the internet, and I love you. This world is cruel towards tender hearts and disappointment hides in every corner, but we keep loving the world and the people in it anyway. Love finds us when we least expect it, and if you truly want that sort of love it will come to you.

But I need you to be kinder to yourself. I know you said you struggle with self image. Stop measuring yourself against other people. Stop setting up goal posts for your life. Stop thinking your flaws make you some undateable ghoul. They make you, you, and whoever you date will love you for them not in spite of them.

[littletrumpetcat]

how the fuck does anyone afford anything. please let me know. i haven't gotten my hair cut in two years. i've never paid to get my nails done. i rarely ever buy alcohol. i haven't eaten out this summer. it's those god damn student loans i fear