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resident-gay-bitch · 3 months ago

Note

for the 21 q thing 1) James

2) Prongsfoot

3) I have so many controversial opinions-- I hate WS and Jegulus and i don't think they could ever really work. I don't like Remus much. I hate Snape. I think PF is the best ship. I don't like Jily. feel like James would have been a bit neglected growing up (bc I see his parents as like dumbles age-ish old). I think Remus and Peter and sirius were all inlove with James but James only was in lov with Sirius and that he (james) was the guy like everyone wanted and I think James was Voldy's kid. James is scottish

4) Sirius.

5) First came in 2019 (I only read fics then and had no idea that there was a fandom j thought people randomly made fics aboug HP lol) but then left and came back in 2022 (properly with knowledge of fandoms)-- both times thro WS fics that i abondened withint he first 10 chps bc I could not get WS at all. But i came and stayed for James both times.

6) Tall Sirius! With James being second and like 5 or so cm shorter (remus is so average hieght in canon that JK didn't even bother mentioning his height lol) like that dude could never be short. Regulus got the short genes j like he got the ugly genes :>

7) Prongsfoot

9) ooh I have a few-- Marauders Guide to Saving the Wizarding World Tattered I've never known colour (like this morning reveals to me) Professor Tommy Welcome to The Black Charade These Wounds don't seem to heal Never Leave I don't want to Listen Anymore Darkness Only For an Year Till My Last Breath

15) I like AUs a bit more, though I'm fine with canon compliant. fav AU is either Werewolf James, Vampire James, Royalty AU neglected James AU or Voldy is James' father AU (PF fics tho)

16) I started reading but then dnf it. I was given the impressiont hat ATYD was a prequel, and I'd even seen people say it was written by JK and completely canon and stuff, so I looked for it for two years b4 finding and dowloading it and the whole thing confused me so much. Orphaned Remus, Sirius and Remus' dynamic, Dyslexic Remus. I left it aft the scene where Sirius points out the book james wanted in the 6th I think chapter. tbh is I read it as a fanfiction i might have been less bothered and read for a bit longer, but the way it was presented and how long I'd waiting meant that I couldn't manage it bc i was filled with confusiont hat gave way to pure rage and hatered. It is a WS fic so tbh I was neve gonna finish it.

17) I feel like James would have been a bit neglected growing up (bc I see his parents as like dumbles age-ish old). I think Remus and Peter and sirius were all inlove with James but James only was in lov with Sirius and that he (james) was the guy like everyone wanted and I think James was Voldy's kid. James is scottish. I also like the thought of a vampire or werewolf James. And I think the Blacks were legimens/occlumens and Poitters were necromancers. James is ambidextrous, a mother hen and pretty good and is not good at asking for help (thinks he has to be there for others but that he doesn't deserve someone to be there for him). Oh and that James spent like 60% of his money in the war making sure everyone was alive an not dyign of dehydration or starvation or summat (my fav character is pretty clear lol)

20) is being a necromancer secretly a secret talkent (my HC for James/Potters)

21) I think Jily would have broken up and James and Sirius would choose to do some stupidly dangerous thing-- a curse breaker and a magizoologist or something like that.

Hellooooo, thanks for playing! I'm glad you're a prongsfoot enthusiast because I've been wanting to write some more prongsfoot recently and haven't had the energy to open up and work on my longfic for them, lol. Anyway, I'm gonna write some vampy prongsfoot for you :)

Warning, it gets a bit suggestive at the end sorry

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James is fascinated by the tall, dark man across the pub.

He's got long hair, a set jaw, the most piercing eyes, is unequivocally handsome, and his blood smells divine. James hasn't smelt blood like his in a very long time.

He's been watching the man all night, as he dances and drinks and beats every man he challenges to an arm wrestle. James is under his spell, completely, without much worry about it at all.

He wondered, for a moment, if the man were a warlock, or perhaps a wizard, a spell caster of some sort. Though, vampires can sense the magic sorts from a fair way away, their blood smells metallic and rusted. No vampire wants to feed on a magic man.

So James is at a standstill, wondering how such a man has him this heavy under trance. It's almost embarrassing. Well, it would be if the man weren't so unbelievably handsome.

And James can't quite put his finger on why he's so familiar.

James knows that if he had ever seen this man before, he's sure he would remember it. He could never forget a face so charmingly perfect, never forget a smile so sharp. But there's something about him, something James can't quite place.

And so he remains stumped. And he stares, and watches, and daydreams all through the night.

He orders another drink, and looks back into the room to find he's misplaced his dark beauty. Frantically, he scours the pub with his eyes in hopes of finding him, of following him home and feasting on his sweet, sweet blood.

"Missed me?" A deep, raspy voice whispers in James' ear from behind, and he spins to find himself a mere breath away from the man he's captivated by.

"I beg your pardon?" James splutters out, already a mess somehow.

One thing James prides himself on is his ability and confidence to talk to people, to flirt with people, but there's something about this man. Something that's frying his brain.

"I hope you don't think you've been subtle." He smirks, looking James up and down as he sits dumbstruck on his stool.

He feels as though he's stripped bare under the mans intense gaze.

"I noticed you watching me hours ago. I was curious to see how long it would take for you to approach me." He leans in closer to whisper again, "I've been waiting, Vampire."

If James still had the ability to blush, he knows he would absolutely be flushed pink in the cheeks right now. However, he is un-dead, and so such a thing has not happened, and he has never been so thankful.

How on earth does this man know?

He stands up straight, holds his fore-arm out and pulls his sleeve up for James to see, and there, on his lovely, pale skin, upon his muscular arm, is a tattoo-- Or, rather, not a tattoo, but a mark.

A hunters mark.

Well, shit.

"Oh, well, would you look at the time. I really must be going now, farewell--" James tried, but he was immediately shoved right back down onto his seat.

"You're not going anywhere."

Bloody hell.

"I'm not here to feed, I'm just after a few drinks is all! Not a bad vampire, I promise."

"So that's not blood in your glass?"

James peered back at his glass on the bar and coward, "Well, not fresh blood."

"Hmm." The hunter nodded, squinted his eyes to assess, "It's my sworn responsibility to kill any vampires I come across, the moment that I do, you know?"

"So why didn't you?" James asked, finding the gall, "You said you noticed me watching hours ago, what took you so long?"

"Maybe I couldn't be bothered..." He muttered before a sly smirk appeared on his lovely, pink lips, "Maybe I liked the attention."

"Wanted a fight, did you? Wanted to see if I'd try and feed on you?"

"Were you planning on it?"

"Well, it depended." He began to ramble, hoping to find a safe rout out of this inevitably terrible situation, "Do you have low iron? Because you look rather pale, and low iron blood tastes terrible--"

"I don't get out much throughout the day." He interrupts, "A perk of the job, hunting you night creatures."

James studies him for a moment, the lack of distaste on his perfect face. The hunter is almost smiling, like he's enjoying this back and forth, isn't repulsed by James' mere existence like the rest of them.

And no wonder it's taken so long for him to realise the familiarity of the hunter, he's a Black. The Blacks have been hunting him for centuries, and he has their face, for sure, but he's never seen a Black wear any expression other than a disgusted frown.

It's almost charming, how different this one seems, even though he's planning to kill James tonight.

Why the bloody hell did he have to be attracted to his predator?

"How does it feel to be the fist Black to ever catch me, hm?" James asks, desperate to drag this out as much as he possibly can, "Centuries your ancestors have been itching to get half as close to me as you are right now. Your father, I'm guessing, the great Orion, almost tore the last town to smithereens on the hunt for me."

"Yes, it's all a little bit homoerotic, isn't it?"

James couldn't help but snicker at his joke, "Well, I don't know if I'd call it that, but sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night, Hunter."

"My family would be very proud." He answered stiffly, "They'd implore me to take over our Clan. I'd be Sirius the Victorious, a hero, my story passed down for generations. It would be... everything to the clan."

"Well, isn't that just neat?" James sighed, "I almost feel bad, trying to escape from you now. It would be rather depressing for you to get so close and then have to head home defeated, like every other hunter in your family, Sirius."

Sirius kisses his teeth, arms folded across his broad chest, and James spots a sheath with wooden bullets slung over his shoulder, and guns and spikes on his sides. He wonders if the hunter had been wearing them the whole time, or, if James had been so distracted by his mere beauty that he hadn't even noticed the obvious.

"Yes, depressing, sure." He mumbles, rolling his gorgeous blue eyes and sets a heavy gaze on James, "In a family like mine, eternal fame is not something to take lightly. To be the best hunter, means a life time of high expectations, and that sounds like an awful lot of responsibility and effort."

James raised an eyebrow at the hunter, "I'm sorry, I'm not sure I follow. Are you going to capture and kill me, or not?"

The hunter reaches a strong hand out, his finger tracing along the thin wire of James' glassess, over the shell of his ear, and up into his unruly hair before grabbing a fist full of it and pulling back.

"Ow--"

"Capture you, yes. To kill you though? Hm, well, that's undecided."

"Lovely." James groaned, rather confused at the combination of emotions circling through him right now; terribly afraid he's about to die, and rather flustered by this devilishly handsome man.

"Now, you're going to quietly follow me up to my room. If you dare make a sound, or so much as try to escape, I will kill you instantly, and I will make it hurt." He whispered, pointing upwards towards the boarding rooms above the pub, "But if you comply, you may get your chance to live."

James has never been very good at following instructions, he rather hates being told what to do. However, this charming man has him under wraps, and so, for once in his un-life, James does as he's told.

The pair of them make their way up stairs with kind smiles and head nods to passers by, and James longs for his half finished glass of blood on the bar, and prays that he is not about to die in a moldy little boarding room.

The room is full of weaponry, and James knows there is no hope for him now. He should have tried to escape when he had the chance, yet, he's an idiot, apparently. His brain turned to mush at the sight of one damming attractive man, who's about to be his demise.

Welp. He's had a good five hundred years, he supposed.

"I'm not going to kill you." Sirius says, as he binds James wrists together behind his back and shoves him into a chair, pouring himself a tall glass of whiskey, "Well, not yet at least. It really depends on how much you piss me off."

"Right, well, good chance I won't make it much longer than." James comments, "I'm known to be rather annoying. Big mouth, people say, been saying it for years."

"Hmm, charming." Sirius sighs, "My family, as you know, is renowned for hunting vampires, all our incredible feats over the years. We're bread to be the perfect hunters, I made my first kill at age five, I remember it vividly."

"Sounds tragic."

"It's... suffocating, all those expectations to be perfect, all these... responsibilities. I'm rather sick and tired of it all. My parents have been high on my tail about it for years. And slowly, I've been rebelling. I'm sick of all the murder."

"You want out." James wonders in bewilderment.

"Yes." Sirius answers, "To an extent. But I know it's stupid, I have nothing without them. But I'm through with them all. I want to see how hard I can push before they snap."

"Oh, you're acting out are you? Hmm, I remember my rebellious phase. Happened before I was turned, I said the fuck word to my parents-- terrible, terrible things. We were from high society, the fifteen-hundreds, it was rather inappropriate."

"Charming." Sirius hummed, sitting down on the edge of the bed across from him, "What had you watching me for so long tonight? You didn't know who I was-- if you realised I was a hunter you would have ran. So why?"

"Hm, you really want an honest answer?" James asked, and the man nodded, "Your blood."

"What about it?"

"It smells good." James grinned, "It smells divine. I've been dreaming about sinking my teeth into your neck and draining you of every drop." He chuckled to himself, "How tragic would it be for your family to find you dead at my hand?"

"So very tragic." Sirius said with a grin, and James' stomach begin to twist, "Which is why you're going to feed on me--"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Kill me or not, I don't care." Sirius shrugged, already unbuttoning his vest and removing it, along with his jewelry, a sight which has James rather flustered again, "Feed on me, make it known you were here. Seek them out and brag about it."

"Wouldn't that just be terrible for you?" James asks, eyes fixed on Sirius' broad chest as he unbuttons his shirt. He's covered in black swirly ink, and James is entranced.

"Perhaps. Though, not if you kill me." And with the most crazed grin James has ever seen, Sirius said, "Not if you turn me."

Oh bloody hell.

"Turn you?"

"Wouldn't it be fun?"

"I doubt that, Star."

Sirius stood up, unbuckling his trousers next, removing his shoes, "Leave your mark on me, Vampire. Make it stick. Make them pay for all the harm they've caused you over the years."

James snickered, "Hmm, revenge would be sweet."

"I could be sweet." He says, now completely naked, "Turn me, and I'll run by your side for eternity, protect you from their attempts to kill you. It will be the ultimate revenge for the both of us, for all that they've done to me to shape me into their killer. Now, the very thing they've sworn to kill."

"Hmm, love, I admire your ambition, and you're rather fit I must say." James nods, giving him a once over, "But I fear you're a little young for me."

"I'm twenty seven." Sirius mutters.

"I'm five hundred and sixteen-- or maybe seventeen now. What month is it? It's hard to keep track after all these years."

Sirius glared at him, "Turn me."

"Feisty, aren't you?" James said, "You just met me."

"I've been studying you my whole life." Sirius smiles, wanders over to lean into James' space, "I've been dreaming of you my whole life."

"Well, no pressure." James muttered, really quite surprised. This man has to be insane, dreaming of his enemy for twenty seven years.

James wonders if that's why his blood smells so sweet. Perhaps they're intertwined. Perhaps...

Every magical creature has one soul that they're designed for. One soul they're meant to stand by for all of eternity. One soul, instant attraction, a sworn desire to protect them at all costs, intertwined until death, and when one dies, the others life loses all meaning.

It's just... usually they'll pair with another magical creature. Not the one designed to hunt and kill them.

But maybe...

"Let me smell you."

Sirius isn't perturbed by this, and he leans into James' space, his neck bared for James to breathe in his scent. And it's perfect, brilliantly sweet, metallic and warm. He smells of everything James has ever dreamed about, he's what James has spent the past five hundred years searching for.

"Hmm, well, I suppose I was turned when I was twenty one."

With that, Sirius grins, climbs into his lap and kisses him. And Merlin, his blood tastes divine.

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Hope you enjoyed and thanks for sending an ask!!! This was fun to write lol :))

#jay writes #jays 21st birthday event!#marauders era edition #prongsfoot #james potter #sirius black #James x sirius #vampire James #hunter sirius #vampire hunter sirius #sirius x james #marauders era #marauders #ficlet #mini fic #one shot #rarepair

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my-status-single · 10 months ago

Text

The One Where Peter Parker Has a Baby Chapter 3

He’s four. His name is Ben. He’s with Happy. They won’t let him run to him. He’s four. His name is Ben. He’s with Happy. He can’t go to him. He’s four. His name is Ben. He’s safe with Happy. He’s safe. His name is Ben. He’s four. He’s Peter’s. She had been pregnant. It had been early. So early that it had been months before she even realised. Half of the universe disappeared, Peter included. And months later she had given birth to their son. Their son. Ben.

Fic Summary: Mostly canon compliant fic that centres around the relationship of Tony Stark's daughter and Peter Parker.

From the Author: This is a Peter Parker/Reader fic. It jumps back and forth between the "present" (after the blip is reversed) and the past (pre blip reversal). The main focus is Peter and our girl Y/N, but there will be exploration into other relationships as well. These include but are not limited to Tony/Steve Peter/Harley Harley/Harry Peter/Harley/Harry Steve/Bucky Tony/Stephen.

Each chapter will have content warnings listed that are specific to the chapter just for added security, there will also be a summary of the chapter if the content is something you don't want to engage with but would like to continue to the next chapter. There will also be a comprehensive list of warnings. The severity of these topics varies from very intense to simply implied. Be sure to check the individual chapters for more detailed descriptions of how these themes are used.

Fic Content Warning: Underage sex, unplanned pregnancy, teen pregnancy, polyamoury, child abuse/neglect, parental death, suicide, self harm, Tony Stark in Endgame

Please, if there is ever something in this or any of my fics that you feel needs a content warning, feel free to message me and I will make sure to add it.

I want this to be a safe place for everyone.

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From the author: Taglist is OPEN, just leave a comment or send me a dm xxx

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Wordcount: 825

Chapter Summary: Follows immediately after the first chapter. Peter learns more about what he’s missed

Chapter Warnings:Medical settings: YN is still in a coma, the chapter takes place in a hospital/medical centre, Peter thinks back to another situation involving a hospital Anxiety: Peter is going through it kids Depression: Tony implies that YN struggled with depression after the snap Overstimulation: Peter’s powers cause heightened senses and this is causing problems for him due to exhaustion and stress

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Detailed Chapter Summary: Peter learns some of what has happened in the last five years. Tony offers to let him meet Ben but Peter ultimately decides he wants to wait for YN before he does so.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Ao3 Chapter 1 Chapter 2

May 2023

Peter lets out a deep breath as he half listens to what Tony is saying. His head is spinning and everything is becoming too bright. Everything hurts. And everything is loud. And if he doesn’t get control of himself he’s going to go into overload. Everything is just too much. “You can meet him if you want.” He manages to catch. He looks over at Tony.

“You can. He’s your son, we aren’t going to keep you from him.”

Peter swallows thickly. All he wants to do is meet him. But he doesn’t think he can without her. She…she had his baby, and she was all alone and…and he doesn’t want to become a father without her at his side.

“But, no one would blame you if you wanted to wait either.” Tony continues. “It’s a lot to take in. You’re already dealing with a lot. Ben won’t know one way or another.”

“Ben…” Peter says so softly, with an almost reverence. “She named him Ben.”

Tony nods. “I think it’s the only thing she’s sure of. That his name was meant to be Ben.”

Peter just looks over at him, a bit confused. “What?” He asks.

Tony hums. “When she found out she…she wasn’t doing well. She didn’t know anything she wanted or needed or how to handle any of it. But…she knew his name.” He says. “And since then she second guesses a lot. She convinces herself that she’s doing it wrong or that keeping him was unfair. But she knows she at least got that right.” He says. He sighs softly. “She’s got most of it right. That boy is…he’s so loved and she’s so good. She settled into motherhood so well that it was almost alarming. She loves that boy with everything in her.”

Peter nods slowly. “I…want to meet him, but I can’t leave right now.” He admits. “I need to be here. Near her.”

Tony nods. “I know. You already look stressed and she’s just in the next room.” He admits. “You two have always been so codependent.” He hums. “Is there anything you need, though? Anything you want to know?” He asks. “I’m sure she’ll tell you everything when shes woken up…but, in the meantime?”

Peter sighs and rubs his temples. “Just…are they okay?” He asks in a small voice.

Tony hums. “Right now, yes. For a while now.” He says. “Ben is healthy, and smart, and happy. He’s so loved. She’s so good with him. You’d be proud.”

Peter smiles tearfully. “Yeah?” He whispers.

Tony smiles and nods. “Yeah. She’s okay too. She…takes it a day at a time.” He admits.

Peter feels a painful pang in his heart at that, he closes his eyes.

“Losing you was…it was rough. On all of us. But she…” He sighs. “It took a lot out of her…and I don’t want you to feel guilty over that. It isn’t your fault. You couldn’t control it. And I need you to repeat that to yourself until you believe it.” He says sternly. “But I know you want to know things. I know you need to know about her.”

Peter swallows thickly. “I…okay. Okay, I’ll try.” He chokes out.

Tony squeezes his hand gently. “Go back to her. Try to get some sleep. With her. I don’t care what anyone has told you. You need to hold her and she needs to be held.” He says.

Peter nods slowly. “Thank you Tony.” He whispers and stands, legs a bit shaky.

“Kid?” Tony says, just as Peter is turning away. He hums and turns to look back at Tony.

“It’s…I’m glad you’re back.” He says to Peter so gently.

Peter smiles softly and nods.

He goes back to his girl then.

He settles beside her in her bed, brushing her hair back gently. She’s beautiful. Perfect. And he can’t quite fathom that he spent half a decade without her.

He studies her. Noticing the changes.

She’s older now. She’s lost some of the softness that comes with being essentially still a child. Her hair is longer, a bit darker…he loves every bit of her as much as he did five years ago.

The last time he’d seen her in a hospital bed it had been after a training accident. She’d lost her footing during sparring and ended up with a concussion.

He was there with her then the way he is now.

He couldn’t sleep that time.

He thinks of this as he feels himself beginning to relax a bit into sleep.

Maybe it was the exhaustion from the fight, and the stress. That would make the most sense.

But as his eyes get heavy enough to close he knows that its just his response to being able to fall asleep next to her.

Like his body knows he’s back where he belongs.

Like he can finally rest.

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Taglist: @bitchy-bi-trash

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker headcanon #YN #yn stark #peter parker x reader #peter parker fan fiction #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x you #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagine #marvel fanfiction #the one where peter parker has a baby #The one where peter Parker has a baby chapter 3

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keepmycandleburning · 1 day ago

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I want to get into reading Bellamort fics. Where do I start?

Here! I present you a list of the top 26 Bellamort-centric fanfictions on AO3 ranked purely by the numbers in the stats categories. This excludes all the extraneous fics in the tag in which Bellamort is only a minor theme or side pairing (I have not read everything so if I have mistakenly included or excluded let me know. There are a couple I have intentionally excluded because of extreme abnormalities in their stats like having <100 kudos). They are sorted by the top 7 (bolded) in each stat category (kudos, hits, bookmarks, comments in that order), and then sorted by kudos.

1. surrogate by 8623s44 - 396 comments, 947 kudos, 123 bookmarks, 23.1k hits

“I,” her gaze slips down to his mouth, “want only to please you. Is there no way I might…”

“You want to own me,” he lilts to her. He tucks a curling strand of hair behind her ear.

“No, master,” she insists, plaintive words and sharp, devouring eyes. “I am your faithful servant. Nothing sustains me but to obey your will.”

2. Beauty and the Beast by @metalomagnetic - 154 comments, 939 kudos, 218 bookmarks, 11.4k hits

Whenever Voldemort sees beauty, he wants to destroy it. Bellatrix Black endures.

3. Practical Defense Theory by meanwhiletimely - 31 comments, 420 kudos, 61 bookmarks, 15.1k hits

Bellatrix Black requests a private lesson from her Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and Professor Riddle is all too willing to oblige his favorite student.

4. Straw Man by Wheels_on_fire - 91 comments, 382 kudos, 23 bookmarks, 7.8k hits

Alternative universe where Bellatrix was not born a pureblood but she still manages to attract the Dark Lord's attention. Set during the first wizarding war.

5. Respice Finem by Noctem31 - 33 comments, 298 kudos, 67 bookmarks, 13.3k hits

"War is cruelty. There is no use trying to reform it. The crueler it is, the sooner it will be over."

6. Mistress of the Dark Lord by AmandahLeigh - 85 comments, 289 kudos, 44 bookmarks, 10.9k hits

Bellatrix Black Lestrange is 46 years old, a little mental, devoted to the Dark Lord... and pregnant.

When Bella cannot control her emotions as she used to, she looks to her sister for advice. No, not Narcissa. Andromeda. Even though they're estranged. But when they consume too much wine, Bella reveals something she never meant to - something dangerous to reveal.

Then, after defying the Dark Lord, Bellatrix is tortured by her lover within an inch of her life... but remains convinced he loves her. He must. He wouldn't have given her the gift of their child if he didn't. Overwhelmed by conflicting emotions and bitter about the assault, Bellatrix is confined to bed, confronting her demons alone.

She eventually gives birth at Malfoy Manor to a premature but healthy baby and is thrust into a role she'd never imagined she'd embrace so fully: motherhood.

Finally, clutching her infant daughter, Bella sneaks away, though she should be awaiting her Master's wrath after the Golden Trio stole Hufflepuff's Cup from her vault, to seek assistance from a man she loathes but, most unfortunately, needs: Hogwarts Headmaster Severus Snape.

She lives for the Dark Lord. Will she die for him?

7. The Fabian Strategy by deslea - 42 comments, 252 kudos, 56 bookmarks, 2.9k hits

When Voldemort saves Bella in the Department of Mysteries, the gossip columns assume she is his lover and consort. Teen witch fangirling, manipulative PR campaigns, and speculation about Voldemort's manhood ensue.

8. The Most Useful Of Them All by QueenoftheDreamers - 28 comments, 164 kudos, 23 bookmarks, 7.1k hits

"She may prove the most useful of them all, Voldemort thought, and he suddenly realised that it did not matter whether Bellatrix Black married Rodolphus Lestrange. Her devotion was obvious, and Voldemort intended on capitalising fully upon it. He would make Bellatrix Black his." HP and Cursed Child canon-compliant Bellamort tale spanning the decades of their relationship.

9. Keep My Candle Burning by @keepmycandleburning - 430 comments, 144 kudos, 41 bookmarks, 5.7k hits

An intensely canon-compliant humanized Voldemort's POV of his life throughout both wars, with flashbacks to his younger years. Centered around his relationship with Bellatrix, and his journey with love, family, and grief, but very all-encompassing and inclusive of everything and everyone I could think of.

The Voldemort we see in words—from Dumbledore, from Harry—is not the Voldemort we see in actions. How do we bridge the gap between the Voldemort that Dumbledore claims has no idea what friendship is and the Voldemort that calls his Death Eaters his family when they’re not even present? gives Bella a piece of his soul? drags her by hand out of the Ministry? is clearly liked as a person at least somewhat by his followers? has at least one person willing to physically care for him for nearly a year? has multiple people willing to go to Azkaban for life for the chance to have him back?

Voldemort is not the person Dumbledore thinks (or claims to think, so that Harry will kill himself) he is at all, but is a human being with human emotions and human thoughts and human relationships, however unique.

10. Whatever the fates decide. - 259 comments, 105 kudos, 10 bookmarks, 4.7k hits

The battle of Hogwarts is lost, and Voldemort is forced to reatreat. With the majority of his forces either dead or imprisoned, he is left only with Bellatrix Le-Strange and Antonin Dolohov. How can they rebuild themselves from this?

11. Bellatrix and her Master by SamaraXX @ssamaraxx - 164 comments, 175 kudos, 18 bookmarks, 4.6k hits

The day Bellatrix becomes engaged to the Lestrange heir, she meets the dark wizard, Lord Voldemort, whose name echoes through the pure-blood elite. Drawn to his power and the promise of liberation from societal constraints, Bellatrix embarks soon on a tumultuous 23-year journey as his devoted disciple.

As she dives deeper into Voldemort's world, Bellatrix battles her loyalty to him against her obligations to Rodolphus, resisting the traditional roles of wife and mother. Her involvement with the dark arts marks a turning point, deepening her attachment to the Dark Lord, but straining her relationships with her sisters, Narcissa and Andromeda.

Amidst ordeals that challenge her loyalty and sanity, Bellatrix’s journey reveals how love can lead to the darkest corners of the human soul.

12. The Warrior and the Snake by Lady_Escapist - 160 comments, 126 kudos, 19 bookmarks, 3.9k hits

In the early 1970s, young Bellatrix Lestrange is bored. Her husband is trying to keep a secret from her, and when she finds out it proves just the diversion she was looking for. When a mysterious master duelist offers to teach her the Dark Magic she craves to know, who is she to deny doing him a favor or two. And just like that, Bellatrix finds herself ensnared in the Dark Arts and deeply entangled in the web of secrecy the Dark Lord has spun. And she loves every second of it.

13. Affections Dark as Erebus by Queenofthedreamers - 150 comments, 130 kudos, 25 bookmarks, 7.0k hits

"To what unholy black hell had he been catapulted? Into what empty eternity had he been condemned? And why, Voldemort wondered with what threads remained of his consciousness, did it seem neverending?"

Halloween, 1981. Voldemort's Killing Curse against Harry Potter rebounds. He is cast into a dark nothingness from which he awakens and finds himself in Malfoy Manor in June 1968. Encountering Bellatrix Black, his "most treasured weapon," for the first time again, he is faced with the idea that he may have accidentally granted himself the opportunity to start over again, armed with knowledge and experience he didn't have the first time round.

"He had a second chance now, he thought, and he was absolutely not going to waste it."

14. Polygirl by deslea - 23 comments, 216 kudos, 31 bookmarks, 4.5k hits

In Knockturn Alley, Kitty will be anyone you want her to be, for a price…that is, if you have a strand of their hair. A surprising number of her clients want her to be Bellatrix Lestrange.

15. An Empty Glass by QueenoftheDreamers - 80 comments, 205 kudos, 39 bookmarks, 6.2k hits

Bellatrix falls asleep in Azkaban Prison in 1982 and wakes up in the Slytherin girls' dormitory in 1944. Convinced that the Universe has sent her to warn her lord and master of the doom in his future, Bellatrix intersects with Tom Riddle. But when she grows too comfortable with her new existence, Lord Voldemort's path to power warps and shifts. Time Travel.

16. Crimson by meanwhiletimely - 67 comments, 169 kudos, 35 bookmarks, 3.7k hits

When the Lestranges report to the Dark Lord after a mission gone wrong, Rodolphus is given a warning—and a choice.

17. A dalliance with the Devil by maneaterjolie - 53 comments, 166 kudos, 12 bookmarks, 2.5k hits

This is not a love story, but it is a story about love. About those who give in into it and the price they pay. And those who run away from it because they are afraid, or because they do not believe they are worthy of it. He ran away. She gave in. Politics, power, an affair to remember, high class society and falling in love with the devil.

18. The Deadly Odd Parents by ElectraCute, todaslasmadrugadas - 37 comments, 165 kudos, 25 bookmarks, 4.9k hits

According to Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, Voldemort had a daughter. Fascinated by the ridiculousness of this notion, we produced this work of art. We tried to be funny, and we hope you'll laugh. We mean, it can't be a worse fanfiction than the play.

19. Secrets of the Darkest Art by Aiffe - 17 comments, 157 kudos, 16 bookmarks, 4.3k hits

The first time they met, she tortured him within an inch of his life...but that doesn't mean it isn't a love story.

20. Delphi's Question by @crookshanksagentofowca - 8 comments, 151 kudos, 9 bookmarks, 2.7k hits

When his daughter asks a surprising question, Voldemort is forced to confront his past and put an old rumor to rest once and for all.

21. Bitter Echo by Dragon_MoonX - 59 comments, 150 kudos, 7 bookmarks, 4.1k hits

After a particularly brutal punishment, Bellatrix suffers a complete mental breakdown. As he tries to put her broken mind back together, Voldemort discovers that her madness and sadistic tendencies are rooted in abuse.

22. The Heartbeat of the Devil by Lady_Escapist - 42 comments, 149 kudos, 32 bookmarks, 4.4k hits

Harry and his friends weren’t successful when they broke into the Lestrange's vault in their hunt for Horcruxes. They only barely escaped the clutches of the Death Eaters, with burns on their skin and no cup to show for. The only thing they did have was a single black hair, curly and smooth, clinging to the golden brush Hermione had taken with her. Only, the hair was decades old. As foolish and short-sighted as their plan was, it might be their only chance.

There was only one way the appearance of a very much younger Bellatrix Lestrange wouldn’t raise questions: if the one impersonating her actually did travel back in time and took her place.

23. Le Serpent Emerald by maneaterjolie - 56 comments, 147 kudos, 7 bookmarks, 5.2k hits

A collection of smutty one-shot fics of varying length written for the HP Kinktober 2023 prompt series. Bellatrix & Bellamort centric.

24. This Darkness (which you know you cannot fight) - 49 comments, 146 kudos, 32 bookmarks, 3.6k hits

In a world where Bellatrix Black never joined the Death Eaters, surprisingly little changes during the First War with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. But destiny has a funny way of messing with the Wizardry World.

OR: Bellatrix tries to escape destiny but keeps reluctantly meeting it (and having dinner with it) much to her chagrin. And in her flight tries to drag her nephew along with her...with mixed results.

25. Until the Death of Me by DvL2022 - 23 comments, 144 kudos, 7 bookmarks, 3.8k hits

After fourteen years, Bellatrix is finally freed from imprisonment in Azkaban.

Bellatrix continues her advances towards his Lord and Master.

Voldemort tries to establish his control but he still struggles with erasing the last vestiges of humanity left in him.

A lot has changed, but some feelings stay the same.

26. Which Alters When It Alteration Finds by Queenofthedreamers- 113 comments, 140 kudos, 16 bookmarks, 5.4k hits

In 1970, Lord Voldemort's disappearance sets off a panic. In 1945, Tom Riddle vanishes from Borgin and Burkes while handling a mysterious object. The timelines collide. When Bellatrix discovers that her master was once an unfathomably handsome teenager, all bets are off.

#I don't feel like putting the word count so just click on them and find out #motherfuckingmaneater I cannot tag you #I trust you will see it...#bellamort #voldemort #bellatrix lestrange #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #bellatrix black #bellatrix x voldemort #voldemort x bellatrix #hp fanfic rec #death eaters

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browneyesandhair · 1 year ago

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Harry Potter Rec Fest Day 25: A T-Rated Fic

Thanks to @hprecfest for organizing this event! Please see below for some fun T-rated fics! These are all top-tier fics that I'm obsessed with!

The Changeling by Annerb

Summary:

Ginny is sorted into Slytherin. It takes her seven years to figure out why.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences; Rape/Non-Con

Relationship: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley

Additional Tags: AU, Drama, Angst, Women Being Awesome, Slytherin Ginny Weasley, Mostly Canon Compliant

Heal Thyself by astolat

Summary:

"Are you going for the course?" Lovegood asked. "You have the NEWTs.” “What course?” Draco said, then, “No, don’t be ridiculous,” when he realized she meant the notice pinned up on the board he’d been staring at: Applicants To The Introductory Mediwizard Course For The Coming Term Shall Present Themselves In The Chief Mediwizard’s Office By August 24th. “Oh, I thought you might,” she said. “Well, goodbye.” And off she wandered again in her addled way.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences; Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Additional Tags: Healer Draco Malfoy, St. Mungo's, Medical School, Hospital, Medicine

The Art of Self-Defense by cgner

Summary:

Lily got pregnant at sixteen and left Hogwarts to work at an inn. After seventeen years of single parenting, she now has to manage a persistent James, nosy villagers, and a son who's all too interested in joining the Order.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences; No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationship: James Potter/Lily Evans

Additional Tags: AU - Gilmore Girls Setting, AU

Forever Means Forever by cocoartist

Summary:

If she ever saw Unspeakable Number 37 again she would kill him with her bare hands: Hermione's research into the Veil has an unexpected side-effect. COMPLETE.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences; Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationship: Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle

Additional Tags: miscellaneous unspeakables and aurors, Soul Bond, BAMF Hermione Granger, Sane Tom Riddle, tomione - freeform, complete, two shot,

#hprecfest2023 #fanfic #complete #hinny #drarry #jily #tomione #t-rated fics #harry potter #rec list

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kyleknight · 10 months ago

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I’m curious about swimwear season

ohhh swimwear season is one of my most self indulgent guilty pleasure fics. its mcyt characters (mostly life series/hermitcraft with some other folks) in a one piece universe that is not exactly canon compliant but still follows a lot of the in-universe plots/settings.

specifically, swimwear season is about scar and grian forming a pirate crew to escape their pasts, and along the way they fight marines, gradually start to discover the True History, and just in general have a good time (with a lot of bad times as well)

its actually a partner story to a Different story in the same universe which is about joel and etho joining false's pirate crew (which is drown)

I dont know if Id ever post swimwear season because I write it in a very disjointed way (which fits grian and scar's characters bc theyre traumatized and dealing with it very badly [thumbs up emoji])

below the cut is a little section of what Ive written (and Ive written nearly 15k for this

Grian could kick himself. He can’t believe it took him all day to realize.

Scar didn’t relent because he had confidence in them. When has Scar ever been that straightforward? Scar gave in to Callum’s request to stop at a port because he had made his own plan and decided not to tell anyone.

And now their captain is missing, and there are four Marine ships in the harbor, preventing the ship from leaving but not attacking. Just caging them in with their cannons pointed straight at the ship.

Everyone has returned to Swaggin’ Larry by now, eyeing the Marines surrounding them while in various states. Shane seems distraught, while H is pacing angrily. Jojo has insisted that Joe remain out of sight below deck with Oli, just in case.

Grian is keeping his thoughts to himself, no matter how much he wants to scream and rage. He’s the first mate, and he’s the responsible party while the captain is absent. He needs to keep the crew calm while they wait for Scar to return— because he has to return. Grian refuses to even think about trying to leave without him.

Scar knew. Or maybe he lied about what the Cipher Pol said. But Jojo looks just as surprised by the presence of the Marines and horrified at the disappearance of their captain as everyone else.

So… this is something that Scar knows. Another secret he won’t give up. Grian bristles at the thought. He likes to tell himself that he knows more about Scar than anyone… but what does he know really?

=========

Scar sits down in the chair offered by the Cipher Pol. He’s never been in a room with four agents at the same time. He imagines this is meant to intimidate him, but he simply meets their attempts at haki aggression with his own. They can play that all day, but after a few moments, they tone it down.

He’s probably stronger than them. Of course, if they all attack at once or if they have some odd devil fruits, it could be a challenge, but he’s not all that concerned. Not really. Because they said they wanted to talk, not to take him in. That’s a relief (because he has been pretty worried about them finding out about Joe and the Poneglyphs) but it also presents its own set of challenges.

Now, the key here is to offer up a few little tidbits of information but to glean more from the agents than they’re getting from him. Quite a challenge for four intelligence agents, but Scar isn’t an amateur at this.

“Captain Scar,” the first of the agents says, sitting across from him. He’s got a tangible haki signature, and he doesn’t bother to hide it. It doesn’t feel quite as strong as Scar’s, but Scar isn’t about to underestimate him. There’s every possibility that he might have some kind of devil fruit.

“Could I have the names of the agents I’m talking to?” Scar replies pleasantly.

“No you may not,” the agent says. “You can answer our questions, and if we’re satisfied with your answers, then we might not instruct the Marines stationed in the harbor to sink your ship and arrest your crew.”

#mani rambling #thank you for asking about this one specifically

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julietkirsh · 2 years ago

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Hi! Just dropping by this secondary blog to post fanfics and such, hope you enjoy 'em!🎶

As said in the description, I'm currently writing for Bungou Stray Dogs, Jujutsu Kaisen and Attack on Titan, but who knows what'll happen from now on?

(probably the same things I've been doing since forever)

If anyone's interested, here's my AO3 profile: julietkirsh

More about the works you'll see there under the cut!⏬️

Attack on Titan

The Sound of Grief (posted on March 15th, '22)

The first and only Gallirei fic I have ever wrote, it consist of three chapters and it's complete (one of the veeery few that met their conclusions💀).

It is set before the events of the narrative arc that is currently being shown in the anime, and contains minor spoilers from much older manga chapters.

It is about finding a kind of fleeting solace in relations dictated by loneliness and grief, and the inevitabe emptiness that follows.

When the Sun Went Down on Us (last updated on November 22nd, '22)

This is meant to be a long one, and even if it's been months since I've last updated it, I have still intention to continue it up to the end (I have posted two chapters out of approximately twenty eight in total, so it's going to be a slooow journey) and I also have many chapters already planned out, so it's not completely abandoned!

This one is full of spoilers since it's canon compliant and also set after the end of the manga, so I don't recommend it for those who would prefer to avoid them⚠️

The main couple is Reijean (I think the official ship name is this one, but I'm not entirely sure yet) and both of them present a good share of difficulties and traumas while dealing with the horrible thing that life can sometimes be, so the story is full of angst to say the least.

Bungou Stray Dogs

The Fate Of Traitors

Dazai dies, and Chuuya has a hard time processing his unspoken feelings and mourning altogether.

Or at least, this seems to be the plot, or is it?

Basically my mind exploded and decided that this story needed a plot twist and also Meursault, overall it came out full of angst, death, blood and other incredibly happy things.

It's Called: Freefall (posted on January 6th, '23)

Inevitably Soukoku, this one shot has its own conclusion! It's pretty short and full of thoughts about delicate matters of life and death, and it is inspired by the song that gave it its title.

Nothing more to add, there are spoilers from the early seasons of the anime but nothing too severe.

How to Rip A Heart Apart (last updated on January 26th, '23)

Also Soukoku, it is a multichapter story (nothing longer than five chapters in total) and I've already begun to write the second one, so it will see the light, eventually. This one contains spoilers from both the main story and other spinoffs, but they are all listed in the summary.

It gets pretty graphic and violent, the main characters tend to act like assholes in this one (as if they usually are slices of cake😅) and lots of people get unalived.

Angst everywhere and also some canon compliant inaccuracies (you'll find them in the first chapter which I think I'll revise and correct sooner or later) but overall it is going to be lighter than my other stories, or at least I hope so.

Jujutsu Kaisen

In Dreams

My first jjk AND stsg fanfic, written by tears and hurt alone, it is set a few months after the infamous events of volume 0.

It mainly focuses on Satoru, burdened with the neverending task of holding the whole sorcery world together but still incapable of letting his past go once and for all.

He finds shelter in his sporadic dreams, in the long lost image of a youth that will never return, until he can't help but mix up reality with what his sleeping self begins to perceive.

It all goes downhill from there.

#fanfic #bungou stray dogs #attack on titan #jujutsu kaisen #ff #jjk #bsd #aot #ao3 writer #reijean #satosugu #soukoku #soukoku fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #chuuya nakahara #dazai osamu #dazai x chuuya #jean kirschstein #reiner braun

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jadethest0ne · 2 years ago

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Folks are over-using the term “AU”

I’ve added the “Canon Compliant” tag to all of my comics on ao3, because I’ve noticed a strange amount of people calling “The Brains and The Brawn” an “AU” or “Alternate Universe”, when... it’s not...?

An “Alternate Universe” story takes place in a universe completely different from the canon - think Fantasy AUs, High School AUs, or fics using the same characters as canon but a plot from a different story (which could lead into “crossovers”, but I digress).

Yet I see folks misuse this term for LOTS of fics or comics, and as someone who prides themselves in trying to get their comics as close to canon as possible, it admittedly makes me feel like I’m failing a bit at that if people are calling my comics “alternate universes” since I usually intend them to slot somewhere into the canon storyline.

I would call the main comics I’ve created so far to be “Canon Compliant” which are stories with the same characters, setting, and plot, and no big changes to the canon (examples are missing scene fics, fics based on canon character backstories (think “turtle tots”), or other general fics meant to be seen as an “episode” of the show).

There’s also “Canon Divergent” or “Universe Alteration” which are stories with the same characters, same setting, and same plot up until the plot diverges from a specific point in the canon and things after that point are altered (plot may or may not swing back around to fit back into the canon) (examples: LFLS, what if x character lived/died after a certain point, what if a certain battle was lost/won? etc.) I point out “Like Father, Like Son” here because while it is not my story, @eternalglitch has stated on numerous occasions that it is a “Universe Alteration”. It’s the same universe, not an alternate one. Some events just changed the plot in a major way. The events altered the universe, not the other way around.

So anyway, that’s my little TED talk for the day; just letting folks get to know their tags and fan stories better. I’m also trying to be clearer with my tags and how I present my stories so folks get a better understanding for them.

Thanks for reading! Have a lovely day!

#alternate universe #canon compliant #canon divergent #universe alteration #media discourse #fandom discourse #canon discourse #fanfiction #fan comics #psa #like father like son #rottmnt lfls #the brains and the brawn #rottmnt bnb #jadethest0ne

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cafecitowriter · 2 years ago

Text

Get In, Get Out (Steggy Fic)

Summary: “You’ll be in the heart of occupied France. We’ve managed to create a relationship with a particular group of rebels, but they will only meet with their contact, which means Agent Carter will be joining you.”

“Joining us?” he parroted, and he could practically feel Bucky’s snickers from across the room as he looked everywhere except Peggy, his cheeks reddening.

“Is there a problem, Rogers?” Phillips barked.

“No, sir. None. We’re grateful to have her - Agent Carter, that is, sir.”

Word Count: 16K

A/N:��At long last, my Steggy Secret Santa gift for @followingyourbliss is finally complete! Canon compliant (set during CA:TFA), featuring some angst with a side of fluff, and Steve and Peggy still trying to figure their relationship out.

Thanks to @steggyfanevents for this event!

Read on AO3

Fic Preview:

Get in.

Find the files.

Save any prisoners.

Get out.

Blow up the base.

Easy.

That was the plan, at least.

...

“Agent Carter.”

“Captain Rogers,” she reciprocated stiffly, hardly sparing him half a glance.

Steve tried not to let his heart sink at her curt greeting. After the incident with Private Lorraine and the subsequent shooting of four bullets into his shield - the scuffs of which were still very present three months later despite Bucky’s ceaseless teasing and Howard’s efforts to get him to repaint it - Peggy had kept her distance from him except where absolutely necessary (read as: when forced to occupy the same space as him during briefings or meetings). It hadn’t been difficult, what with the Howling Commandos going in and out of enemy territory while Peggy flitted between important work in London and her own missions that were even more classified than his.

Bucky, Jones and Dernier had gone on a separate mission with her just two weeks back while some of the other fellas recovered from minor injuries. Steve had eagerly volunteered, but Phillips shot him down, citing the need for an explosions expert, a sniper, and a near-fluent German speaker. Steve was sternly reminded that not only was he none of the above, his size and fame meant that he was the last choice for an espionage mission. The four who went all returned as good friends (and thankfully without a scratch), but any warmth Peggy had extended to his Commandos was gone the moment she locked eyes with Steve when he arrived as a last-minute addition to their extraction plan.

It upset him how content she seemed to use the nature of their roles as a shield with the hope that if she kept at it long enough, they would never actually talk about what happened. He wanted to apologize properly, tell her in plain words how he felt without dancing around it, and if she rejected him still after that, then at least he gave this - them - a real chance.

Even if she was making it really damn difficult to get more than two words out at a time.

#steggy #steggy secret santa #steve rogers #peggy carter #howling commandos #ca:tfa

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dayseternal-blog · 4 years ago

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OK OK OK, I know I sound kind of weird but, could you pleaseee recommend some of the kinkiest naruhina fanfics?😳

Thank you so much🤍🤍

OK OK OK, you know you came to the right place 😳

I don’t know what you mean exactly by kinky, but I was thinking...I’ll just sort this by kinks hahahahahahha

OMG

This is going to include some of the MOST KINKY Naruhina fics I’ve ever read, EVER. SOOO majorly inappropriate. Also this will have some of the ones I’ve recommended before, but I’ll put everything under the cut.

NaruHina Smut & Kink

um hmmmm

Everything that follows is Rated Explicit. Some of these fics are meant to be read with HUMOR. Please enjoy!!!!!!!!!!!!

BDSM

“Echoes of Silence” by @ellaroundpanda - Modern AU, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. Hinata Hyuga was trapped. Her relationship with Toneri was leading to nowhere and she wanted to find a new Dom. Naruto Uzumaki seemed to be the answer to all her prayers, but her fiancé wouldn’t give up that easily…

“Professor Passion” by omegas - College AU, Dom!Hinata & Sub!Naruto One-shot. Naruto is a new university student with a crush on his professor; Hinata Hyuga. Shy first dates and kisses quickly turn into a relationship, and Naruto discovers his professor’s provocative secret – along with one of his own.

“Secrets of the Hidden Leaf” by Sessakag - Includes a ton of different kinks. Canon-Divergent. Multi-chapter, Incomplete. The author’s summary hints at NaruHinaSasu, but they never got that far in the story. Naruto and Hinata push the boundaries of propriety and decency in a budding relationship of profound love and wild, sexual exploration.

“Out with the Old” by agitosgirl - Includes cheating, Modern AU. Two-shot. Hinata’s been mistreated by her current Dom, Toneri. Thankfully, another Dom has had his eyes set on her for awhile now.

“dorks.” by EroPrincess - Canon-Compliant, Multi-chapter, Complete. Random sexual exploits featuring Konoha’s most innocent couple.

“I want you to cry” by Devahhole - Includes a ton of kinks and things like dub-con and graphic murder, Multi-chapter, RECENTLY COMPLETE!!! A sociopath blinded by revenge runs into his greatest opponent.

“Some Like it Rough” by Cheating Death - Modern AU, One-shot. Yet she couldn’t help the thoughts that had been racing through her mind lately. Thoughts of her fiance using less restraint than he usually did.

Clones

“Clone Present” by @carny-writings - Canon Compliant (lol), One-shot. So it’s Hinata’s birthday; does this mean a Naruto Shadow Clone Gangbang is in order for our best girl?

“Hinata’s Rose Lips” by Plump_Hinata - Includes extreme Bimbo!Hinata, Canon Divergent, Multi-chapter, Complete. Naruto and Hinata are sent on a mission to find a mysterious flower. But they will get a big surprise when they find out that the "Rose Lips" flower has a special power. A power to turn young ladies into ultra-hot, super-busty, sexy bimbos, and Hinata will be its victim!

Stamina/Multiple Orgasms/Cum Inflation/Size Kink

“Honeymoon” by Prestige Frost - Canon-Divergent. One-shot. During their honeymoon, Hinata learned something new about her husband: he was an absolute stamina freak in the bedroom. How was the beach? Why, they never even left the room!

“Adventures of the Warlock’s Apprentice” by pizzansushi - Includes lactation and furry kink, Fantasy AU, Multi-chapter, Incomplete. One rainy night, a warlock, finds a stray cat in alley. He takes Hinata in and breaks her curse. Turns out, his smitten kitten is actually a young lady. Naruto the Warlock allows her to stay beside him as his apprentice, although her looks and wiles will likely be the death of him.

“Sweet Love Bakery” by pizzansushi - Includes lactation kink, Fantasy AU, One-shot (but supposed to be multi-chapter?). Tender and sweet. Love makes people feel full and satisfied. Naruto Uzumaki the Warlock and his wife Hinata Hyuga open a bakery tavern.

“The Pinocchio Effect” by Silent_Soul_Ken - Fantasy/Modern AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. Naruto goes to see a Fortune Teller for a view into his luck however after his insult he'll find that he has a big problem and it's just getting bigger and bigger…

“Lord Hokage” by EroPrincess - Canon Compliant, Series of One-shots. Naruto loves it when Hinata screams out "Lord Hokage" during their lovemaking.

“Engaged or whatever…” by Devahhole - Rated E, Multi-chapter, Complete. Shenanigans, jealousy, and sex ensue when Naruto and Hinata decide to tie the knot.

Squirting

“Unless the World Were to End” by @bunny-hoodlum - Modern AU, One-shot. Anonymous internet friends decide to meet up IRL and give each other their first times.

“I’m in Here” by @bunny-hoodlum - RTN!Hinata, Canon-Divergent. One-shot. Thanks to Hinata’s newly acquired boldness, she and Naruto begin to explore their boundaries with each other – partly for distraction, partly for fun – But is Hinata the same Hinata anymore or not?

Voyeurism

“Unseen Audience” by @vegebulsoup - Canon-Divergent AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. He wondered what she might think if she found out about his new hobby. Surely, she would be mortified, embarrassed, and/or thoroughly creeped out. But still, he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

“Caught in the Act” by HoneyWriter78 - Modern/College AU, One-shot. Hinata decides to watch one of the adult videos at her workplace, not knowing that someone is watching her…

“Let Me See You” by callmesenorita - Canon Compliant (lol), Two-shot. When Naruto wakes to an empty bed, he is surprised to discover his wife indulging in an old habit. He’s also seriously turned on.

“Money Shot” by callmesenorita - College AU. Multi-chapter, Complete. Naruto can’t help noticing that his soft-spoken, new girlfriend bears similarities to PearlPrincess…but there’s no way Hinata, of all people, livestreams those kinds of videos, right?

Cheating

“A Maid’s Responsibility” by agitosgirl - Modern AU, One-shot. It had been a year since he and Sakura had been physical. Now he had Hinata, sweet, kind, caring Hinata.

“All Kinds of Wrong” by Kieren - Crime AU. One-shot. It was ironic how something so pure had sprung from such a sordid arrangement. They were perfect for each other. But they had met at the wrong time.

Drugged/Dub-Con/Non-Con

“Side Effects” by Cheating Death - Includes graphic non-con/dub-con, Modern AU. Multi-chapter, Complete. Naruto and Hinata decide to participate in a high-paying clinical study, but the pay turns out to be too good to be true.

“Shinobi Passions” by HoneyWriter78 - Canon-Divergent AU. Multi-Chapter, Incomplete. When a mission takes a surprising turn for the worse, only Naruto can help her through the night…

“A Love Never Seen” by HoneyWriter78 - High School AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. Hinata Hyuga attend Konoha High she is part of the athletics group. She is friends with Ino and Shikamaru but is secretly in love with Shikamaru who is oblivious and loves someone else. She tried to fight her feelings not noticing that a certain senpai has had his eyes on her…

“Warped” by BountifullyBeautifullyBlessed - College AU. Multi-chapter, Complete. Hinata can’t sleep and her roommate, Naruto, is more than willing to help her out.

“Heavy Sleeper” by InTheMist032000 - Canon-Divergent AU, Two-shot. Hinata has a peculiar way of sleeping, and a knack for sleeping through all kinds of things. Naruto is intrigued and makes it a game to see how far he can go before she wakes up.

Semi-Public/In Public

“The Lustful Maid” by HoneyWriter78 - Modern AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. Hinata Hyuga wakes up in an unknown room on an unknown bed, after one of the most worst days of her life. Her only memory is knocking into a tall blonde handsome guy with her juice spilled over him! Was it a dream? I think not as now she has signed a contract to be his very own personal maid!

“The Superstar Falls in Love” by HoneyWriter78 - Modern AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. Naruto Uzumaki is a superstar, he and his band Kyubi set off clubbing after their opening night in Konoha. There he meets a blue haired beauty that immediately captures his attention. Will this blonde superstar playboy finally fall in love?

“A Shirt, a Neckerchief and my Bag on my Shoulders” by @badluckbrebis - Summer Camp AU, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. Hinata is freezing cold as she washes up in a nearby stream despite the poor weather, until Naruto unexpectedly shows up to shelter her…

“Nighttime Workout” by Breezyanimetra - College AU, Two-shot. Shy Hinata doesn’t usually have the courage to speak with her long time crush Naruto. All she does is watch him workout wishing she can do more. A snow storm one fateful night changes that for her.

“21 Days” by @bunny-hoodlum - Includes dub-con, Modern AU, Multi-chapter, Incomplete. Anonymous internet friends decide to meet up IRL and give each other their first times.

Pregnancy

“Vacation” by Prestige Frost - Includes foot fetish among other kinks, Canon Divergent AU, One-shot. Their honeymoon was just the beginning. For Naruto and Hinata Uzumaki, the love they shared only grew with each passing day.

“The Art of Seduction” by katraine - Canon Compliant (?), One-shot. ...as only Uzumaki Hinata can do.

“October Tenth” by ShiroiNoKiba - Includes lactation kink and miscarriage scare, Canon-divergent. Two-shot. Naruto’s pregnant wife surprises him at home for his birthday.

Dark!Naruto/Demon/Kyuubi

“Calming the Beast” by Goldfishlover73 - Includes cheating, Canon-Divergent. One-shot. Naruto can’t understand why his relationship with Sakura just isn’t working. Hinata has a solution.

“Honeymoon” by DemonOfTheFridge - Includes graphic rape/non-con, Canon-Divergent, Multi-chapter, Complete. Naruto always left on a secret mission once a year for a whole month. A curious Hinata finally had enough and followed him to an underground house. A house she finds herself trapped in, with a dark Naruto. Curiosity Killed the Cat.

“Breeding Season” by BlackMajjicDuchess - Includes rape/non-con, Canon-Divergent, Multi-chapter, Complete. Completely out of pattern, Kyuubi leaks free and causes terrible destruction that Naruto cannot suppress. There is a solution, but it comes at a terrible price.

“In a Demon’s Possession” by HoneyWriter78 - Demons AU. Multi-chapter, Incomplete. Pursued by the snake demon Orochimaru for their mysterious bloodline, Neji and Hinata accidentally trespass into Lord Kyuubi’s territory.

Furry/Mating/Alpha/Omega Dynamics

“A Wild Love” by agitosgirl - Fox!Naruto and Bunny!Hinata, Two-shot. They are a mix of humans and animal. They form communities and societies with their own species. Unfortunately, Hinata from the bunny section of the wood, finds herself in danger of being eaten.

“Love at First Sniff” by agitosgirl - Fox!Naruto and Mouse!Hinata, One-shot. Finding your one true love is the easiest thing that anyone can do. Hinata sets out to find the one male who will become the love of her life.

“Drainage City Tales” by Silent_Soul_Ken - Includes mutation/gender changes, Multi-chapter, Complete. Naruto is a young man working in Fume City's mining operation recently orphaned he struggles to survive and out of desperation eats some fish. Unusually large and bloated fish eating them will cause a change he never wanted but must now accept. But when Hinata a young noble girl who loves him, finds he's missing she'll do all she can to be with him.

“Naruto’s Mate” by funkychicken67 - Canon Divergent AU, Two-shot. Naruto receives a...gift from the nine tails. And Hinata gets in the way.

“When the Devil Picks Up a Stray” by callmesenorita - Rated E, A/B/O Modern AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. Hinata, an Omega, questions buried feelings when she decides to help a childhood friend who has adopted a new persona under the name Menma. Although their attraction is instant he is no longer the Naruto she once knew, and soon enough Hinata is thrust into a dangerous yakuza conspiracy.

“A Fate Worse than Death” by Caelestia - A/B/O Canon-Divergent, One-shot. Naruto, improperly socialized and traumatized as a child, rejects his inner Alpha, which has devastating consequences on his family and marriage. “A Risky Bet” is its fluffier follow-up (One-shot).

I feeeeel like I might be forgetting some, but that’s a lot! :D Happy fic reading!!!!

#anon #naruhina fanfic recs #naruhina smut #naruhina smut fics

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elamarth-calmagol · 4 years ago

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What actually is LACE? (an informal essay)

What’s LACE?

Laws and Customs among the Eldar, or LACE, is the most popular section of the History of Middle Earth books. It's available online as a PDF here: http://faculty.smu.edu/bwheeler/tolkien/online_reader/T-LawsandCustoms.pdf . There’s a lot of LACE analysis in the fandom, Silmarillion smut fics are usually labeled “LACE compliant” or “not LACE compliant”, and I’ve been seeing the document itself show up in actual fics, meaning that the characters themselves are discussing it.

LACE is an unfinished, non-canonical essay split into several parts. It covers the sexuality of elves, which is mostly what people talk about. It also covers elvish naming (which I want to make a whole different post about), the speed at which elves grow up, changes that happen throughout their lives, their death and rebirth, and finally the legal and moral issues of Finwe remarrying after Miriel’s death. The discussion about rebirth conflicts with Tolkien’s later writings about Glorfindel’s re-embodiment, but to the best of my knowledge, LACE is the best or only source for most of the topics it covers.

However, LACE is not canon since it doesn’t show up in the Silmarillion. Counting all of the History of Middle Earth as canon is literally impossible, considering Tolkien contradicts himself all over the place. It is only useful because it has so much information that is never discussed in the actual canon. Many people consider it canon out of convenience.

Another important thing to remember is that, other than presumably the discussion of the growth of elvish children, the information is only supposed to apply to the Eldar (meaning the Vanyar, Noldor, Teleri, and Sindar) and not the dark-elves such as the Silvan elves and Avari.

The rest is behind the cut to avoid clogging your feeds.

Problems with LACE interpretations

But because it’s hidden in the History of Middle Earth (volume 10, Morgoth’s Ring), barely anyone actually gets the opportunity to read it. I don’t think most people are aware that you can get it online, so it doesn't get read much.

I feel like this leads to a handful of people saying something about LACE and everyone else going along with it. I definitely did this. I was amazed by all the things that were in the actual essay that nobody had ever told me about, or had told me incorrectly. For example, most people seem to believe that elves become married at the completion of sexual intercourse (whatever that means to the fic author). In fact, LACE explicitly says that elves must take an oath using the name of Eru in order to be legally married. Specifically:

It was the act of bodily union that achieved marriage, and after which the indissoluble bond was complete… [I]t was at all times lawful for any of the Eldar, being both unwed, to marry thus of free consent one to another without ceremony or witness (save blessings exchanged and the naming of the Name); and the union so joined was alike indissoluble.

I’ve seen a marriage oath being included in a few stories recently, but most writers leave out the oath entirely and just have sex be automatically equivalent to marriage. What would happen if elves had sex without swearing an oath? I don’t know, but I’d love to see it explored.

Then there’s a footnote that might explicitly deny the existence of transgender elves... or not, but I’ve literally only seen it mentioned once or twice. Overall, I feel like all of LACE is filtered through the handful of people who read it, and we’re missing out on a lot of metanalysis and interpretations that we could have because most fans never see the actual document.

Who wrote LACE?

I mean within the mythology of Middle Earth, of course. Since LACE appears in the History of Middle Earth and not the Silmarillion, we can be pretty sure that J.R.R. Tolkien himself wrote it and it wasn’t added to by Christopher Tolkien. But that’s not the question here. Remember that Tolkien’s frame narrative for all of his Middle Earth work is that he is a scholar of ancient times and is translating documents from Westron and Sindarin for modern audiences to read and understand. The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings come from the Red Book of Westmarch, and I believe The Silmarillion is meant to be Tolkien’s own writings based on his research (though it might also be an adaption of Bilbo’s “Translations from the Elvish”, but I haven't looked into that). So what does LACE come from?

Christopher Tolkien admits in his notes that he doesn’t know. He says, “It is clear in any case that this is presented as the work, not of one of the Eldar, but of a Man,” and I agree, because of the way it seems to be written as an ethnographic study rather than by someone who lives in the culture. Honestly, it talks too much about how elves are seen by Men (e.g. speculating that elf-children might look like the children of Men) to be written by an elf. This changes once it gets to the Doom of Finwe and Miriel, but that could be, and probably is, a story told to the writer by an elf who was there at the time.

Tolkien actually references Aelfwine in the second version of the text. The original story behind The Lost Tales, which was the abandoned first version of the Silmarillion, was that a man from the Viking period named Aelfwine/Eriol stumbled onto the Straight Road and found himself on Tol Eressea. He spoke to the elves and brought back their stories to England with him. So it makes a lot of sense that Aelfwine would also write about the lives and customs of the elves for an audience of his own people.

Does LACE exist in Middle Earth?

I keep finding fics where first age elves discuss “the Laws and Customs” openly, as if it’s a text in their own world. I usually get the impression that it was brought by the Noldor from Valinor. But did the document actually exist in that time period? For me, the answer is definitely not.

First of all, LACE was probably written by a Man, meaning it could not have dated back to Valinor in the years of the Trees, because Men hadn’t awaked yet. In fact, the closest thing to an established frame narrative for it is that it was written by Aelfwine, who comes from the time period around 1000 CE (though Tolkien doesn’t seem to have pinned him down). This is at least the fifth age, if not later.

But what if you don’t believe that it was written by a Man? It still couldn’t have been written in the First Age, because it discusses the way the relationship between elves’ bodies and souls changes as ages go by. For example:

As ages passed the dominance of their fear ever increased, ‘consuming’ their bodies... The end of this process is their ‘fading’, as Men have called it.

A lot of time has to go by in order for elves to get to the point of fading. As a bonus, here’s another reference to the perspective of Men. LACE also discusses the dangers that “houseless feas”, which are souls of elves who do not go to Mandos after their bodies died, pose to Men. How would they have known about that in the First Age? It further says that “more than one rebirth is seldom recorded” (which isn’t contradicted anywhere I know of), and that’s not something you would know during your life of joy in Valinor, where almost nobody dies. That’s something you learn after millennia of war. This has to be a document written well after the Silmarillion ends.

So what about the sex part? That’s all we care about, right? Well, it is entirely possible that this was written down by the elves and Aelfwine translated it (though my impression is that he mostly recorded stories told orally to him and that elves were not very much into writing, at least in Valinor where you could get stories directly from someone who experienced them). However, why would the elves write this down? They know how quickly their children grow up. They’ve seen actual marriages. They don’t need that described to them. And if they did have a specific document or story explaining the expectations of them when it comes to sex and marriage, why would they call it “Laws and Customs”? That’s a very strange name for a set of rules for conduct. I’m sure they had a list of laws written out somewhere in great detail, like our own state or national laws (that seems very in character for the Noldor, at least). But I seriously doubt that those laws are what we’ve been given to read. LACE is not an elvish or Valinoran document.

Is LACE prescriptive or descriptive?

Here’s the other big question I’m interested in. Prescriptive means that the document describes the way people should behave. Descriptive means that it describes how people do behave. And the more I worldbuild for Middle Earth and the culture of elves, the more I want to say that LACE is prescriptive in its discussion of sex, marriage, and gender roles.

But wait. I’ve been saying for paragraphs that I think LACE is Aelfwine or another Man’s ethnographic study of elvish culture. Then it has to be descriptive, right?

Does it? How long do we think Aelfwine stayed with the elves? Did he wait fifty years to see a child grow up? Did he get to witness a wedding ceremony? Did he meet houseless fea? I don’t think he could have done all of that. Maybe a different Man who spent his entire life with the elves could, but then when was this written? When the elves were still marrying and having children in Middle Earth or when so much time had gone by that they had begun to fade already?

Whoever wrote this was told a lot of information by elves instead of experiencing it firsthand, the same way he heard the stories from the First Age from the elves instead of being there. Maybe it was one elf who talked to him, maybe several different ones. But did those elves accurately describe their society the way it was, give him the easiest description, or explain the way it was supposed to be? If I was describing modern-day America, would I discuss premarital sex or just our dating and marriage customs? Maybe people would come away from a talk with me thinking that moving in together equated to marriage for Americans in the early 21st century. And I don’t even have an agenda to show America in a certain way, I'm just bad at explaining. Did the elves talking to what may have been the first Man they had seen in millennia have an agenda in the way they presented themselves?

Or did the writer himself have an agenda? Imagine going to see these beautiful, mythical, perfect beings, and you find out that they behave in the same immoral ways Men do. Do you want to share the truth back home? Or do you leave out things that don't match your worldview? Did Aelfwine come back wanting to tell people what elves were really like? Or did he want to say “this is how you can be holy and perfect like an elf”?

Anyone studying the Age of Exploration will tell you that Europeans neber wrote about new cultures objectively, and often things were made up to fit the writer’s idea of what savages looked like. For example, my Native American history teacher in college told a story of how explorers described one tribe who (sensibly) didn't wear clothes as cannibals, because cannibalism and going around naked went together in their minds and not because of any actual incident. Unbiased scholarship barely existed yet. Even Tolkien was extremely biased and tended to be imperialistic, as we all know. There’s absolutely no reason to think that Aelfwine wasn’t biased in his own way. (Of course, now we have to consider what biases a Danish or English man from the centuries around 1000 would have when it comes to things like gender roles. I assume he would have been more into divorce and female warriors than the elves are said to be.)

But is that what Tolkien intended? Probably not. He probably wanted LACE to be descriptive. But he also never got much of a chance to analyse the essay after the fact, which might have led to him discussing its accuracy and even the exact issues I just pointed out about explorers. Anyway, we know he's biased, and honestly, what he intended has never slowed down the fandom before.

Conclusion

In short, I take LACE to be a prescriptive document describing the way elvish culture is supposed to be, not a blueprint I have to stick to in order to correctly portray elves. I also don’t believe the document that’s available for us to read existed even in the early Fourth Age, where The Lord of the Rings leaves off. There maybe have been some document outlining the moral behavior of elves, as a set of laws, but thats not the Laws and Customs we have.

Of course, canon is up to you to interpret. If you want Feanor discussing LACE with someone back in Valinor, go ahead. If you want to throw out LACE entirely, go ahead. It’s not even a canonical essay. All of this analysis is honestly useless when you consider the fact that no part of LACE exists in any canonical book.

But that’s Tolkien analysis for you.

#lotr #silmarillion #tolkien #laws and customs of the eldar #history of middle earth #silm #analysis #meta #headcanon #long post #mine

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mingi-bubu · 2 years ago

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this time lapse that cannot be escaped

for prompt #40 (“hiding/hoping not to be found”) for my 76 Kisses challenge! this is technically the second chapter to a fic that i called in my mind “character study presented as romance” and posted on ao3. long story short, i felt meng yiran deserved better friends and wanted to see her character develop more than it did during the show. and i imprinted on yu banshan like a baby duckling. this is connected to prompt #52 (”accidentally witnessed kiss”)

《love o2o》 meng yiran x yu banshan, est relationship, character study, post-canon, canon compliant, characters might be ooc but they’re definitely oob (out of breath), author needs to add nct 127′s “time lapse” to List of Songs to Not Write to Unless I Want to End Up Writing Characters in a Very Interesting Situation (the only other song on that list being wayv’s 《after midnight》) ~2k words

76 Kisses Masterlist || ao3 link || prompt 52

Yiran couldn’t help the small, breathless giggle that escaped her mouth as Banshan pulled her to him. The surprised, but pleased, look on his face is so endearing to her. A wave of affection for him washes over her. She wraps her arms around his waist, leaning back to look at him. He had forgone his contacts this morning, and instead wore the same pair of glasses he’s had since uni. (Sisi was her informant for that lovely tidbit of information. Yiran didn’t know whether to laugh or be mortified, but then again, she was a different person.)

They were standing around the corner of Zhi Yi Tech’s elevator, in a lesser used corridor of the building. Down the side of the hallway they stood in were just a bunch of storage for unused parts and miscellaneous items. She was almost positive that one room was filled with art supplies that were only used for mockups and preliminary sketches of art for whatever game or game update they were working on. Down the other side was a few bedrooms for when the employees of Zhi Yi are on a deadline and need to sleep without leaving. It was obvious that no one was there, or else he wouldn’t have risked bringing her here.

Their relationship was not a secret, necessarily, but neither of them really went around the office shouting it. Despite working at Zhi Yi for several months, now, Yiran still didn’t feel quite comfortable being there. Part of this, she knows, is that the main set of people in charge at the company are Banshan’s friends. Which meant they went to uni together. And, not only did they go to uni together, but he was roommates with three of them. So they knew who she was. Working with them has (hopefully) changed their opinion of her, but she knows that the four of them are brothers in everything but blood. The second part was that she still hasn’t managed to get a chance to talk with Xiao Nai and Weiwei alone. She knows that it will happen eventually, and she’s been busy getting their communications department up-to-date, but it still weighed on her from time to time. And third…

She saw what happened with other girls in her family’s circle when they dated within whatever company their dads ran. She was part of what happened, the talking behind their backs, the rumors spread within the company. Yiran knows that, to an extent, her situation is different. She was hired long before they even started dating, and they didn’t even work in the same department. But in many ways, it is the same. Her insecurities from university about not being enough still had a grip on her now. The doubts sank their claws into her bones and sometimes it felt like she would never be able to get rid of them.

Is it possible she just got the job as part of some long form revenge plot? Did Banshan actually like her at all? Does she even deserve to be working here? Should she have taken up her uncle’s offer instead? Sure, she’d be hiding who she is, but in a way isn’t that what she was doing now?

Banshan brings one hand up to cup her face, his thumb stroking over her cheekbone absentmindedly. His other is wrapped around her waist, anchoring her. “Hey, are you with me?”

Yiran hadn’t even realized she was spiraling until he asked. She blinks a few times, regaining her bearings. She focuses on breathing, on feeling the fabric of his shirt under her arms, the heat of his body under that. It isn’t until a few deep breaths later that she realizes Banshan was breathing with her. She tilts forward, her forehead resting against his sternum. “I’m sorry,” she says, her voice muffled by the Henley.

He moved his hand when she started tilting into him. He gently stroked the back of her head, his fingers sliding through her hair easily. “Why?”

Yiran looked up, her chin resting where her forehead had been. Banshan looked genuinely confused at her apology, which made Yiran frown in confusion. She had just spiraled into her basket of insecurities when he definitely had pulled her around the corner for something else. “You were being all cute and romantic and having a secret rendezvous, and I ruined it.”

Banshan’s confusion turns into a fond smile. This isn’t the first time that she got in her head about something, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Lucky for him, ‘words of affirmation’ was one of his stronger love languages. He tucks some of her hair behind her ear. “I wouldn’t say you ruined it. After all, we’re both still standing here, hm? Neither of us have been in any grave dangers, right?” He moves to cup her face in his hands, “I’d put this in the “Win” column, personally.”

His comment had the intended effect. Yiran’s face broke into a smile. “You would, would you?” She brings one of her hands up to his heart and rises up on her toes. “Prove it.”

“Of course,” Banshan says, leaning down to meet her lips. He stops just before their lips meet and he changes course and pulls back. Before Yiran can do so much as pout, Banshan kisses the tip of her nose. And then moves to her forehead. And then temples. Soon, he’s just peppering kisses all over her face, savoring her giggles. Yiran moved to hold his wrists, just enjoying the sudden affection. She was surprised that he felt this comfortable in the office to be so free with it, but she chalked it up to that he wanted to reassure her. … and the fact that no one else was on this floor, so they didn’t have to explain themselves if they were to be caught.

He kisses the part of her cheekbone that was right next to his thumb, and Yiran lets out a small whine. “Yu Banshan! Just kiss me already!” She barely got the order out before he finally, blissfully, pressed his lips to hers.

After being teased for so long, despite however enjoyable it was, Yiran relishes the feeling. She sighs into the kiss as his hands move position again, grabbing her hips and pushing her back to the wall. Her arms come up around his neck, one hand holding him in place and the other playing with the ends of his hair. Despite her earlier worries, Yiran does feel a small thrill run up her spine at someone seeing them.

She likes Banshan, really and truly likes him. And for all her posturing, sometimes she wishes that more people than Sisi and his friends knew. While she wouldn’t do anything in the office, at least in the main part, that would be inappropriate, she would like to go out to dinners and not have to sit away from him. Occasionally, by some conversion of the fates, they were able to sit next to each other. But, in a way, that was almost worse. She would be able to feel him next to her, and couldn’t do so much as lean into him. Not in front of co-workers who didn’t know they were dating.

The press of his glasses against her skin is not something she often feels. Banshan prefers to wear his contacts whenever possible, despite Yiran badgering him about being in front of the computer for so long. Even she bit the bullet and bought herself a pair of glasses that had the special technology stuff that was supposed to prevent eyestrain and headaches. She knows his are the same, which makes it all the more annoying he never wears them. Still, she pampered him whenever he complained about having a headache, taking his contacts out, and laying his head in her lap.

Yiran tilts her head slightly, mid-kiss, and accidentally catches his lip on her teeth. The choked groan he lets out has her flushing from head to toe, her veins filled with electricity. Momentarily forgetting herself, she does it again. Purposefully this time. She nips his lower lip and his fingers tighten around her hips, the fabric bunching. The wrinkles would instantly tell the world what they are up to, even if they get themselves sorted before going downstairs. All of her senses are focused on him. The sound of their breaths and lips, the feeling of his body against hers, the smell of his cologne… every part of Yiran is drowning in him. She doesn’t want a life raft. The passion he was showing, normally kept to either of their apartments, is addicting.

The loud ring of his phone, echoing around the empty hall, jolts them out of their reverie like cold water to the face. Banshan, his eyes glazed, has to force himself to let go of her. He takes a step back, putting some distance between them. He shoves his hand into his pocket and pulls out his phone roughly, glaring at it. Yiran watches him, taking in the small details of their post-makeout session. His hair is messy, sticking up in odd places. His clothes are rumpled, though she’s not sure how that happened. Banshan’s lips are red from the kissing and the biting. Yiran touches her lips and knows, in her heart, that they look the same as his.

“… alright, alright, I’ll be right there,” he says into the phone, his free hand coming up to run through his hair. “Yeah.” The word is drawn out and filled with caution. Whatever the person on the other line said makes Banshan’s eyes widen. He looks at Yiran with mild panic. “No,” he says forcefully, “we do not need to have that discussion. God. Goodbye.”

Yiran raises an eyebrow as she smooths out her clothes. “Do I want to know or…?” She holds her laughter back as Banshan walks back over to her, defeated. He drops his head on her shoulder and she blinks rapidly, fighting the smile that wants to rise on her face. “There, there,” she says, patting him on the shoulder.

“Stop enjoying this,” he mumbles half-heartedly.

“Okay, baby, sure I will,” Yiran agrees easily, knowing she will continue to enjoy this. After a few more seconds, she says, “We should probably go downstairs.” She moves her shoulder, attempting to gently move her boyfriend into an upright position.

Banshan releases a dramatic sigh and stands up properly. Yiran’s hands come up automatically to fix his hair; his earlier attempt didn’t really do all that much if she was being honest. As she does that, his thumb swipes under her bottom lip and she’s suddenly reminded she had put on a pink lipstick that morning. After she sorts out his hair, she does the same motion to him, trying to wipe away the pink smudges.

“You go ahead,” she says when she finishes. “I have to go to the bathroom and reapply the lipstick you took off.”

Banshan gives her a cocky smile. “That just means I fulfilled my job as boyfriend properly.”

She rolls her eyes and pushes off of the wall, heading down the other corridor to the bathrooms. “Goodbye, Banshan,” she calls over her shoulder, putting as much exasperation as she can into her tone. “Have fun downstairs!”

She hears his answering groan of resignation and smiles. He fulfilled his job as boyfriend, and now he’s got to fulfill his job as one of the founding members of Zhi Yi. All Yiran has to do after she’s fixed herself up is look at her emails. And maybe plan a way to reward Banshan later tonight for being a good boyfriend…

#love o2o #meng yiran #yu banshan #fanfic #cdrama #meng yiran x yu banshan #76 Kisses to Valentine's Day #jae.works

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anika-ann · 4 years ago

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My Timid Hello, My Clumsy Goodbye (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, canon semi-compliant?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Barton!reader Word count: 8900 (...sorry)

Summary: You’re spending the evening and the night before your wedding with the two most important men of your life.

When the sun rises again, you’ll say your ‘I do’ in a close circle of friends and family. It’s not a goodbye to your old life and it’s not a hello to some enormous change; but you will no longer be a Barton. You will be a Rogers. Why not reminisce a bit?

Warnings: mention of an abandoned baby, blood and injuries, alcohol, implied possibly rougher sex (nothing graphic) ...mature?, language, so much sappiness... let me know if I missed any

A/N: For what-is-your-backupplan-today 10th anniversary of CA:TFA challenge. Prompts in bold. Thank you for coming up with this wonderful theme and hosting this challenge! Long live CA:TFA!

A/N: Throughout the fic, you’ll find snippets of lyrics from SYML’s "Everything All At Once”. Honestly, the song has a completely different meaning to me, but tearing it out of context works for this story just fine :) When you’re done reading, I recommend the music video. It friggin’ broke me in the worst and best ways. Enjoy!

This is my hello This is my clumsy goodbye I'm putting my glass down I wanna remember tonight

Tony rented an island for you. Clint nearly passed out learning about it and grumbled for days about having a hard time to top that, which, no arguing, was understandable.

It was an incredibly extravagant thing to do, throwing around money that could have been used for a much more honourable cause, but you couldn’t complain. One should not look a gifted horse into mouth – and so you didn’t.

Because Tony Stark renting an island was his premature wedding gift. The fact that your brother bitched about not being able to top that, well, that was his problem. You were certain that deep down, he knew you didn’t need any fancy gifts like that.

Then again, Tony’s gift might have been epically overpriced, but not exactly unthoughtful; along with a private island came a private jet and you being literally flied under radar so no single paparazzi knew where you and America’s golden boy Steve Rogers would seal the deal with your ‘I do.’ So, you were everything but ungrateful to your friend that he succeeded at pulling off such covert operation; and frankly, this place was nothing short of wonderful.

The golden sand was pleasantly warm under your toes as you as you and Clint walked towards the two single beach chairs facing the ocean. Wearing bikini under the baggy t-shirt and a pair of shorts, sunglasses on top of your head, because why would you deprive yourself the gorgeous view of the sun beginning to set down, you followed your brother – not in blood but in every other sense – to the seats, allured by the view, the serenity and the cold sixpack in his hand.

You had already had a traditional bachelorette party with your girls – with the team, with your family. Natasha, Wanda, Pepper, Sharon and Maria. The night had been the perfect blend of what was considered typically feminine, dress up, fanciness and wine and gossip, and a fun night out with shots, dancing, karaoke and pool. That particular night sadly was interrupted shortly by an annoying photographer, but he soon understood it was not very clever to annoy three and a half Avengers or the CEO of Stark Industries for that matter.

Clint however… Clint deserved a special evening with you. With the rest of the team in various state of chilling out, scattered around the luxurious small houses and gorgeous beaches, you two were left the privacy such moment required.

Even if the special moment consisted of simple talking and drinking beer while watching the sun set, a symbolic end of one phase of your life – a phase that was undeniably tied to the famous and yet barely known archer, one of the seven defenders who rushed into the Battle of New York to save the Earth.

One of the seven had been your brother, having previously been controlled by the monster who brought an army from outer space; there was no questioning whether you would join the fight or not, no matter how you preferred the latter part of your field medic job title to the former.

Another of these brave people, as it turned out, was your future husband. A man you had met for the first time that day, but whom you didn’t hesitate to push back down when he got hit by a freaking alien weapon and stood up, wanting to shake it off as if it was nothing. Your medical training told you not to let him; and your stubbornness had been just a touch stronger than his that day.

Apparently, Steve found you always standing your ground to be one of your most endearing qualities.

What a fancy way to express it instead of simply calling you a stubborn pain in his ass.

“You’re lost in your head, Twinkie,” Clint hummed, playfully nudging your ribs with an elbow, bringing you back to the present.

Your nose automatically scrunched at the childhood nickname.

“You gotta stop calling me that, Bobo,” you retorted, a grin spreading on your face as it was his turn to grimace.

You knew it was nothing but an act and that he in fact loved that nickname, because it held so much sentiment, so many memories… as did his endearment for you.

Bobo had been your first word or so Clint always claimed. Obviously, you wouldn’t remember.

You wouldn’t remember your parents, having been only two days old when your mother left you with a damn circus which was in your hometown at the time. You couldn’t recall how you wouldn’t stop crying until you heard a seven-year-old Clint humming a lullaby for you, with silly replacements of lyrics that always made you laugh later on when you could understand them.

How he started calling you Twinkie, because he was a sugar addict and apparently, you were sweet and small and he liked you; so much that he soon appointed himself to be your brother, your bro, your Bobo.

Once you were older and learned that your involuntary nickname for him also meant ‘crazy’ in Spanish, you were sold to that Bobo endearment forever.

Including the night before your wedding.

“You keep zoning out on me, Kid. Getting cold feet?” Clint hummed, casually handing you a can of beer, opening it up for you.

You automatically reached out and took a sip, eyes fixed on the warm colour on the horizon. What a ridiculous question… but kind and caring, with a hidden promise of getting you out of here if you just asked. Your amazing, protective, crazy brother.

You couldn’t but smile widely, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

“You offering to kidnap the bride, Clint? I’d like to see you try. You were always better at trapeze than at being an escape artist.”

Clint scoffed. “Please. These are amateurs. I bet I could pull it off.”

That drew a laugh from you.

“Are you calling the Avengers amateurs? Better yet, are you calling your wife an amateur?” you teased him, watching his face lose colour when he realized that he did exactly that. You leaned over and patted his thigh. “Don’t worry, Bobo. I won’t tell Nat.”

Clint visibly relaxed, but a shadow of worry twisting his expression.

“Seriously though. Where’s your head at, Kid?”

You just shrugged, smile resting on your lips as you wondered if you ever felt so relaxed. It went along well with the reminiscing of the past and despite the fact that tomorrow was a big day and you should probably be nervous, you weren’t. Not in the slightest, more like the opposite. You were giddy even; it dawned to you that nothing in your life had ever felt so right.

No moment in your life offered you such serenity to your heart, your shoulders free of any weight, body light as air.

“Just taking a trip down the memory lane. Thinking about how lucky I was to be dropped at your circus of all circuses of the world,” you grinned at Clint, your tone remaining completely serious.

Because you were being serious – words couldn’t express how grateful for everything that led to this moment you were. How grateful you were to your brother for watching over you, making sure you would always see the light of a new day, guiding you when you found yourself in a dark.

Clint didn’t react beside his fingers twitching and you knew he was giving you the chance to say what you needed to say.

“About how you taught me pretty much everything I know. About how while I might not be the best person in the world, my brother, who is the best brother ever, made me into a decent person and I owe him everything I am. And how I should probably feel guilty for tying myself to another guy who just swept in and whisked away your little sister.”

Clint stared at you, gulping as his eyes gradually filled with tears. You found yourself in a very cheesy moment, bordering on absurd and it was almost too much to handle – but Clint took a deep breath, cleared his throat and swallowed his tears.

“Well, that bastard did steal my greatest life achievement with way too little effort,” he remarked, voice cracking slightly, the image of him causing your eyes to burn as well even if his words made you both tear up and burst out laughing.

“Dammit, Clint, stop making me laugh and cry at the same time…”

“You started it!” he pointed his index finger at you accusingly, taking a large sip of his beer to drown his sentiment. “But for the record, you should not feel guilty. It’s not like you’re leaving me.”

“I know, but-“

“And if you were, you’d be leaving me in good hands.”

“That’s true, Natasha does have a grip on you and might keep you outta trouble-“

“She’s the one who gets me into trouble half of the time!” Clint cried out in protest and you would have argued if it wasn’t the truth.

But before he had met her, Clint was able to make up his own trouble just fine – he was more than half of a reason why while doing a bit of trapeze yourself, you also grew interested in medical care. Because who else than the little sister should treat her big brother’s wounds when he got too crazy?

“In all seriousness, I’m proud of you, Twinkie,” he said sincerely, one corner of his lips raised in a lopsided smile. “You’re entirely entitled to have your own life and if there’s one guy in this whole damn world I’m willing to trust to have you… well, I guess it’s that big blond dumbass.”

“He can be a bit dumb of ass occasionally, can’t he?” you mused lovingly. “I guess it’s right what they say… we do pick our partners similar to our parents, maybe not only in looks. I didn’t really have a dad, I had you, so…”

Clint sighed, smile widening, before it slipped from his face as he caught up on the not-so-hidden insult.

“Hey!”

You couldn’t but laugh at his shocked expression, accidently spilling a splosh of beer on the sand.

“Just… maybe make sure that even married, you still find time to hang out with your big dumb of ass brother every once in a while?” Clint suggested, sounding surprisingly vulnerable.

Your whole demander softened, a little pang of guilt stinging in your heart as he took your words too seriously – and at his worry.

“Clint… I will always find time for my amazing brother.”

“Well, you’re marrying a pretty amazing guy too, so, you know, I understand the dilemma…”

You snorted when he seemed to genuinely fawn over your future husband, shaking your head before downing the rest of your drink.

“As amazing as Steve might be – and gosh, he is, don’t get me started – you still own a pretty big chunk of my heart.”

“Good. You are a Barton at heart,” Clint hummed, pretending that a few tears didn’t roll down his cheeks, leaning towards you as his expression once again grew serious.

Your chest tightened. Oh no. He was gonna say something to make you cry too – as if you already weren’t at verge of crying, emotions bubbling under the surface.

“Clint-“ you warned him silently, but he spoke up anyway and you gulped, bracing yourself.

“Just… whatever happens tomorrow, you must promise me one thing. That you will stay who you are. Not a perfect housewife, but a good woman.”

That was not what you were prepared for, as touching as the sentiment was.

You burst out laughing, head thrown back, hands clutching at your stomach as it actually hurt with the sudden clench. Tears did spring from your eyes, a perfect blend of touched and infinitely amused at your brother’s words.

“Har, har, that’s what I get from trying to speak from heart…” Clint muttered grumpily and you willed yourself to calm your hitching breaths as you looked at him, the pout of his mouth causing you to cackle again.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just… I am moved, I really am. Thank you. But me? A perfect housewife? And you realize I’m marrying Steve Rogers, right? The epitome of a good man? He would probably threaten to sock me in a jaw if I tried to change into something I’m not just for his sake and actually sock me in my jaw if I turned into a bad woman.”

Clint’s eyebrows jumped, a smirk appearing on his face. “That’s a lot of punching.”

“My thoughts exactly,” you agreed, reaching for another can, pausing when a thought occurred to you. “Just so we’re clear, I might turn into a bit of a housewife when we have kids, alright? And I want to be a good wife, a good partner to Steve, which is what I’m trying to do even now.”

“I mean, yeah, sure, wouldn’t expect anything less. But… just promise me you’ll stay you and that you’ll keep giving him a run for his money, keep him on his toes a bit,” Clint shrugged with a grin, drawing another chuckle from you.

You saw his point – and you fully intended to keep Steve on his toes. You had a good reason to believe that your future husband enjoyed when you did.

“Oh Clinton… I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He nodded contentedly, picking up another beer and raising it for a toast, his can clinking with yours.

“Cheers to that!”

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you then, a quiet joy wrapped in one moment; the sun ending its quest, the warm breeze in your hair, the waves whispering of a journey you were about to take off to. And all that with a wordless comforting presence of your family, ready to offer you a shelter if a storm rocked your boat and the wind caused you to lose course.

As your mind wandered, you had to laugh at yourself – it was almost as if you were raised by pirates and not circus performers. Perhaps it was the little bit of free cheeky spirit these life journeys had in common what brought the metaphor to your mind. It was a bit like working with the Avengers too, always on a road, adrenaline in your veins even as you mostly stayed on the jet, ready to assist them… yet here you were pondering that maybe, you were yearning for settling down a bit more.

“Cap wouldn’t punch you anyway, right?” Clint remarked, breaking the silence and you blinked yourself back into reality, taking a moment to figure out what he was talking about.

Oh. Right. Steve punching you if you changed yourself significantly for his benefit.

You smiled softly, heart swelling in affection when the answer to that question appeared obvious.

“No, he wouldn’t.”

“Good. He’d try once and I’d put an arrow straight between his eyes,” Clint promised darkly, almost causing you to choke at the sudden violent note. He quickly fixed it with a ramble, lightening the atmosphere yet again. “Minus training of course. He’s allowed to try in order to improve your hand-to-hand. Not that he would ever land a hand on you anyway. Always so soft on you…” he grinned, seemingly alright with that attitude if not slightly calling the big strong supersoldier out.

Oh you could be cheeky too alright if that was what your brother wanted.

“That you know of.”

A confused huh was the only reaction you got – that and a puzzled look.

“He’s always soft on me,” you repeated Clint’s words, turning to him, lips slowly spreading in a wicked smirk. “That you know of.”

Clint’s brows furrowed for a short moment and then his features twisted in a disgusted grimace, face growing a tint crimson.

“Gross!” he complained, more blood rushing to his cheeks. “You know what, I changed my mind. We’re leaving. You’re not marrying him. I’m kidnapping the bride and never returning her, locking her somewhere far far away-“

You snorted at his indignation, your grin undoubtedly battling the one of the Cheshire cat.

“No will do, Bobo. I’m marrying Steve and you can’t stop me.”

This time, Clint didn’t even protest, eyes misted over, nose still scrunched at the mental image, lamenting as the night slowly settled over the paradise-like island.

“Oh god, please help, I can’t unsee it, can’t unhear it--- ew-”

Your laughter was carried away by the breeze as Clint seemed to be unable to look at you.

You swung your beer around, thinking that yes – nothing quite ever felt so right as being here in this moment. Relaxing with your brother, teasing him relentlessly and counting down hours to when you’d say ‘I do’ to the only man who in your eyes ever battled the mantle of the best man in the universe.

In one unending moment You fall within my reach I'm close enough to whisper Hold on to me Hold on to me

You weren’t sure what time it was when you snuck into the beach house, one of few, which had been wisely chosen to be occupied by you and Steve only. You attempted to be quiet and liked to think you succeeded, in your even barely tipsy state, but your effort turned out to be in vain as you found Steve perched against headboard of your bed; reading a book, thin white t-shirt and sleep shorts on display as the soft sheet had been kicked away, scrunched up by his feet.

He was gorgeous – he was gorgeous and yours, a momentary picture perfect of peace, appearing to feel just as light as you did and somehow the dullness of the moment, just him relaxing in bed with a good read as you came home… it was more alluring than one would think.

Steve looked up from the book when you wavered in the doorway, soft lopsided smile spreading on his face.

God, that smile. It might be over two years since you saw it for the first time, but it could still make you weak in your knees.

And somehow, it was now even more charming now than the day you met, more tender than just before you kissed for the first time, sweeter than when he proposed.

“Hey sweetheart,” he greeted you, appreciative gaze roaming your figure and the little too much skin on display – something you regretted when the warm sunrays had bid you goodbye, raising goosebumps. And Steve, the attentive man he was, noticed, his smile earning a teasing edge. “You look a bit cold in there.”

You resisted the urge to stick your tongue out.

“And you look pretty cosy in there. Thought you’d be either asleep or with Bucky.”

Steve shrugged, not letting go of his unfinished chapter just yet, knowing you had a routine to go through before joining him.

“Maybe I missed you. Maybe Bucky is an old man and needs his sleep.”

You chuckled, not rising to the bait – you knew what would follow if you dared to say Steve was just as old. Not that you would complain about Steve trying to convince you about the opposite. You could never.

“Well, I bet he still made you a promise of breaking a bone of mine or two if I ever hurt you. He’ll find energy for that, centenarian or not,” you hummed nonchalantly as you bounced off the doorframe, heading to the bathroom and leaving Steve puzzled by your remark.

“How did you know?” he called out after you, endearingly confused.

“That’s what big brothers do, love!”

Short silence was your answer as you reached for your toothbrush and begun your nighty ritual.

Steve must have figure out what did it mean for him, considering you had a protective brother of your own, because a moment later, his half-amused “noted!” reached your ears.

You chuckled and shook your head, smile spread on your face which you didn’t think could be erased as long as you were in this paradise – free of worry, full of joy. And why wouldn’t you be? You were about to marry one of the smartest, kindest, sassiest and most beautiful men that ever walked the Earth. What was not to love?

You couldn’t but let your mind wander again; if you had only known the day you met, right from that moment, that you’d end up here…. well. It felt a little surreal, knowing that by this time tomorrow, you’d be Steve’s wife; then again, Steve’s life story was surreal enough on its own.

Who would have thought that the stubborn handsome man in the ridiculous suit and you, equally stubborn about you at least checking on the wound upon half-dragging him to a quiet corner in a middle of a battlefield, would grow so close?

It hadn’t been simple. Steve wasn’t the most open guy and while friendly enough, he wasn’t exactly offering his heart on his sleeve, not to strangers. But it hadn’t been too hard, once you were meeting on regular basis. Piece by piece he revealed his true colours and soon after he did… you started falling; hard and fast.

Not necessarily swooning, not on the outside at least; you were a professional, after all. The safety and the well-being of the team was your priority.

It was just too bad – or the best thing, you supposed – that Steve had the same goal as you with one significant difference; as far as he was concerned, the responsibility to look after his team sometimes excluded him.

Oh, was he wrong about that.

And boy, did you let him know you thought so. You still kept proving him wrong to this day and was planning on nurturing his own acknowledgement of his self-worth till your last breath…

“Get your ass in here, Steve!” you called out after him, slowly losing patience as you had tried asking politely the previous two times with no result but being dismissed.

The change of tone and language made his head snap to you from where he was talking to Sam, an offended scowl on his face.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Captain. Don’t be a stubborn jerk and get your ass in here so I can clean your cuts.”

A few months ago, you wouldn’t have been able to talk to him like that; to the great legend, Captain America. At least you certainly wouldn’t have called him his first name and maybe, just maybe, you’d be a little less crass. But now? He might be Captain America still, a hero who deserved all the good things for the sacrifices he made for the world’s safety, but first and foremost, he was just Steve to you.

A colleague, a teammate, a friend. You might not be a part of the team per se, not the way Clint, Natasha or Steve were, but you still belonged. And you were all friends.

Friends irritated each other sometimes and frankly, Steve was often battling with Tony for the mantle of the most infuriating one.

Friends also needed to call each other out on their bullshit by any means necessary when the time was right and now the time was as good as any.

Usually, Steve slipped through your fingers, because he was a supersoldier and the others weren’t, so their injuries took precedence; today, it was only Natasha, Sam and Steve, and the captain was the only one whom you hadn’t checked yet. And you knew there were things to check, the trickle of blood from his eyebrow probably the least of your concerns.

“I wouldn’t argue with her, Steve. She can be pretty stubborn. Clint wouldn’t stop complaining about it,” Natasha supported you from the pilot seat and you fought yourself so you wouldn’t grin at her in victory – it would only irritated Steve further. “She’s almost as bull-headed as you are.”

At that, your smile would have slipped. But honestly, she wasn’t wrong.

“Don’t I know it,” Steve grunted, sparing Sam another glance and when the Falcon himself beckoned to you as well, wordlessly asking Steve to get himself checked up.

The captain sighed irately, but made his way back to the separate and well-lit space of your examination room.

He didn’t try to hide his annoyance – in fact, he squared his shoulders and his steps sounded a bit loud for anyone to believe it was a coincidence. Also, the scowl of exasperation never left his otherwise handsome face.

“This is completely unnecessary. A stupid waste of time,” he hissed as he walked past you and you took a deep calming breath, exchanging an eyeroll with Sam before you disappeared from sight.

“Captain. I respect you and your position, but you say one more time that my job here is unnecessary and stupid, you’ll be looking for a new medic,” you retorted as he stripped the upper part of his uniform angrily, revealing his white-tank-top-clad torso.

Well, at least the fabric used to be white – now a blood stain the size of both of your palms was seeping into the material at Steve’s right side, gushing from what definitely appeared to be a knife wound.

You were gonna murder him one of those days... unless he got killed himself first.

“Seriously?!”

“It’s just a graze-” he started to argue but you cut him off when you tore the fabric away. He winced as some of the dried blood had acted as a glue, having stuck the cloth into the wound, and now was violently ripped off.

“Tr to insinuate again that I’m incompetent at recognizing what’s just a graze, Steve. I dare you. This is a cut wide and deep enough for stitches! Haven’t you had the serum, you could have been bleeding out to death on this table!”

“But I do have it-“

“Or for fuck’s SAKE, stop being a baby and let me treat the bloody gash in your right mesogastric area! The serum accelerates your healing, but it doesn’t make you invincible OR immortal as far as I know--- Jesus fucking Christ-!”

He bristled, taking a deep breath to fight back, but he never got the chance, because you started working and the words died in his throat. Surprisingly, inspecting the damage, poking around a knife wound that might have already begin to seal itself thanks to Erskine’s formula but had not been just a graze hurt and coincidentally, it pulled the rug from under his feet.

To his credit, Steve barely even hissed at the pain.

“Just so you know, I’ll be using the disinfection that stings worse,” you noted, voice dripping venom, because you were genuinely done with Steve’s bullshit.

You lied through your teeth though. You wouldn’t. No matter how infuriating Steve was and how difficult he made your life – causing you to fall for his stupid martyr ass and pine after him among other things – you would never purposely hurt him.

And he must have sensed that, because your remark didn’t earn you a murderous glare or a retort – much to your surprise.

In fact, Steve fell entirely quiet, watching you work without protest, not even objecting when you applied enough local anaesthetic to knock out an elephant and sewed the tissue together so it healed easier. He let you inspect the rest of his torso and bandage his ribs, vigorously shaking his head when you asked him if he was injured anywhere below the waist.

He observed you as you kept an eye on his face for any minute sign of pain he’d be hiding, but all you could see were his irises, startlingly bright blue, pools of honesty and something you had trouble decoding. He seemed… humbled almost. It silenced the anger inside you, the flames of rage – and fear for his well-being, if you were being honest with yourself – turning into a barely smouldering pile of ash.

When you moved on to his head, gently pushing away the strands which obscured the gash on his eyebrow, his eyelids slid shut. You knew how unpleasant facial injuries were, especially around one’s eyes and so you took care to be extra careful as you cleaned the wound and the area surrounding it, most definitely not using the stingy disinfectant.

Not that Steve could get an infection as far as you knew. It was more force of a habit than anything else… and it made you feel better. He had this idiotic mask of an invincible hero he put up sometimes and it drove you insane, because you knew he was only human, a beautiful kind soul, but god, could he be an ass.

“Almost done,” you whispered soothingly when you noticed his jaw tightening as you had to apply a bit more pressure to get a tiny piece of gravel from the cut. You certainly didn’t want that to stay under the newly healing skin.

The moment you retreated with the bloody gauze, Steve’s eyes were back on you, wide and regretful.

“I’m sorry,” he offered quietly, a genuine apology that sounded almost absurd after you two were hissing at each other like damn hellcats. “I didn’t mean to--- I’m sorry for being rude and ungrateful. Thank you for taking care of my injuries.”

One glance into those deep irises and benign hesitant smile and you were done for. How could you stay mad at him? Well, you were still mad at him for the absolute disregard of his own health, but… well. You also understood he felt like he needed to stay strong for the team and put them first and how he actually was in pain.

Pretty much everyone was a pain in the ass when in pain.

You sighed as you searched for few band-aid strips to cover the cut.

“It’s alright, Steve. I’m used to old men being grumpy and not meaning things they say when they are,” you offered lightly and he hung his head with a chuckle, clearly not taking the old man remark personally – and understanding you were referring to your brother.

His smile was wider when he looked up again. “You shouldn’t have to be used to it.”

You shrugged, carefully slipping two fingers under his chin to angle his face so you could stick the strips over the wound.

“Well, I deserve it sometimes. I don’t mean to… to be overbearing and make you feel like you’re incompetent or something,” you added hesitantly, worrying your teeth over your lower lip as the tone you’d been handling him with caught up with you. Perhaps you could have been nicer.

You smoothened the stripes of band-aid, gulping as you felt Steve’s gaze boring into your face while you continued.

“I know you’re not incompetent. You’re very capable, you’re the best. It’s just… I still--- worry- for all of you. For the full-time Earth’s mightiest heroes. Silly, huh?” you muttered self-depreciatingly and when your eyes met, you were startled by the intensity he watched you with as you laid your fears bare in front of him, leaving you vulnerable. You swiftly looked away and dropped your hands. “Here, almost as good as new.”

A lump grew in your throat as you stripped your gloves, tossing them into the bin. Did you reveal too much? Didn’t it sound silly indeed as you said it out loud? Yes, you were all friendly with each other, but you were supposed to be a professional, focused on your task, not getting distracted by-

-by Steve gently grasping your wrist, causing your heart to skip a startled beat. Definitely not getting weak in the knees when you shot him a surprised glance and he just… brought your hand to his face, lips briefly skimming over your knuckles.

Jesus Christ, Lord have mercy with me.

“Don’t you ever apologize for caring. Don’t stop caring. Silly is the last thing I’d call it.”

Your cheeks felt like set on fire, stomach fluttering as well as your heart. You could feel the ghost of Steve’s lips on your skin, sending your heartrate sky-high, causing your head to spin a bit, your body hot all over.

Did he really—did he just-? And did it mean that… did it mean anything at all?

He let go of your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles, but held your gaze adamantly as he gave you a sad smile and rose to his feet, clearly ready to leave.

You, on the hand, stood there frozen, mind racing.

Why had he done that? Was he really just trying to express gratitude and say sorry for his previous behaviour? Because that was not the way it was supposed to be done, because such tenderness left you entirely bewildered. Was he trying to tell you he was somehow interested in something more than friendship? Was he just high from the anaesthetic, mind you, local one that was not supposed to mess with his brain? Was there any sign of a head injury you missed?

“Thank you, again,” he whispered softly, moving to sidestep you and your hand instinctively shot out, latching onto his forearm… gently.

You gulped, heart stuttering when he glanced at you, puzzled.

One part of you wanted to sink into the floor in embarrassment at your unwitting reaction. Another part of you observed him so closely that you would swear that there was another emotion in his eyes and it was neither apology nor gratitude. You wistfully hoped for longing, the same longing you felt when you were near him, sometimes distant and barely there, other times so acute it hurt.

With your stomach somersaulting in doubt, you willed yourself to raise your free hand slowly, purposely giving him a chance – Lord, please, don’t let him take it – to stop you before your palm settled on his cheek.

You were certain you experienced a small cardiac arrest when Steve not only didn’t avoid the touch, but actually leaned into it, gaze fixed on your face, eyes brighter and softer than you ever remembered seeing. Your gaze flickered to his mouth deliberately, throat turning dry. Too daring? He kissed you knuckles, surely you could reciprocate some affection?

Swallowing against your dry throat, you leaned in before you could change your mind and dropped the briefest peck to his lips, causing his eyelids to flutter shut.

Oh no. Oh no no no no, you totally crossed a line-

You went to retreat your hands from him, but the second you moved, his eyes were snapping open, hand covering yours on his face to keep it there, the other cradling your face and then there was a warm and soft sensation on your own lips as he seized them with his.

Your mind went completely blank save two single thoughts: Steve is kissing me. I really like that.

A small sound escaped you, a blend of surprise and contentment, breaking you from your trance and turning you into an actual participant of the pleasant and entirely unexpected activity.

You drew in a small breath, head spinning from the scent of Steve’s shampoo, disinfectant, sweat and something you couldn’t quite put your finger on and not caring.

He tasted faintly of blood, but otherwise was nothing but sweet as his lips caressed yours, gently tugging at your lower lip and then the upper, the lightest graze of teeth and tease of tongue, finger pressing into your jaw to pull you closer, thumb stroking your cheek.

You whimpered involuntarily when his lips parted from yours, soothing as they returned for a short peck, to drop a brief kiss to the corner of your mouth, to brush your cheek.

Your name was a breathy whisper between the two of you, barely audible as all you could hear was your heartbeat pulsing frantically in your ears, growing aware of your fingers clutching at Steve’s still unzipped armour and nearly sinking in his hair, his hot breath tickling your skin.

You didn’t dare to open your eyes – what if you dreamed it up? What if you looked at him and saw regret – it didn’t feel like he would be regretting it, but… still. Insecurity tugged at your mind as it slowly cleared from the literally breath-taking kiss.

Steve repeated your name with urgency that was unheard of, the single word sounding almost as a plea.

“Please say something.”

Oh.

You blinked your eyes open, surprised to be met with his searching gaze, a minute furrow of his brows. It seemed you weren’t the only one whose mind was being the worst of one’s enemies.

Perhaps your brain was being stupid. Perhaps you both wanted this. Perhaps you felt exactly the same.

As you forced yourself to move, fingers actually slipping into his hair to caress his nape, Steve inhaled shakily, shoulders slumping. The tinniest of smiles tugged at his mouth, tempting red and minutely swollen from the kiss; you had to resist the urge to just taste it again.

Instead, you licked your lips only, savouring the previous sensations, smiling unwittingly.

“That’s… uhm, that’s a really creative new way of driving me crazy.”

Steve’s eyebrows rose along with one corner of his mouth, relief written all over his face.

“Oh? There are other ways in which I’m driving you crazy? Because I couldn’t tell...”

You narrowed your eyes, but you didn’t think he bought you unconvincing act of being irritated with him at such remark.

“Don’t push it, Captain,” you warned him, but your treacherous mouth kept curling up in a smile, your body still buzzing with aftershocks of the kiss.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Uh-huh… s-sure,” you stuttered briefly as his thumb caressed your cheek, bright smiling eyes watching only inches from your face – and yet it felt like he was too far.

“You’re driving me crazy too, you know,” he noted in a breathy voice, causing you to gulp as his gaze flickered to your mouth, clearly implying how you do so… among other ways… like your stubbornness practically matching his.

“Oh really? I do? I couldn’t tell…”

He chuckled, his hand slipping to your nape, soft tickle of his fingers making you squirm.

“I’m gonna kiss you again now if that’s okay,” he whispered, not waiting for your permission and erasing the distance between your lips again.

Still, you whispered your approval to his mouth.

“So okay…”

Long moments later when Sam called out to warn you that you’d be landing soon, you said yes to the grumpy old man’s request to let him treat you dinner.

Oh if you only knew by then how far you’d come…

Lost in thought, goofy smile on your face, you exited the bathroom, ready to snuggle your future husband… and to fully take the opportunity to make love, last night before you officially became his and he became yours.

You had a brief second to register that the bed was empty, your heart skipping a started and disappointed beat. The second you stepped out though, you were literally swept off your feet.

A yelp erupted from your throat as you found yourself with no ground under your feet and high in the air, one of Steve’s arms under your knees, the other under your back. Your hands frantically gripped at the nearest firm point, Steve’s shoulder and arm as you finally realized what the hell happened and was met with a cheeky grin and sparkling blue of his eyes.

That traitor was waiting just by the door to ambush you! Why?

You slapped his very much bare shoulder playfully, hissing a curse, not unaware of the heat radiating of him and seeping into your skin.

“You jerk! You almost gave me a heart attack!” you complained, but he didn’t even have the decency to look apologetic.

“Sorry, sweetheart.”

“No, you’re not.”

Steve grinned wider, shrugging and pulling you closer to his torso, nuzzling your temple and dropping a placatory kiss there.

“Still looking a little cold.”

“No, I look like this because you scared me,” you emphasized, vainly trying to resist the seduction; a mixture of playfulness, sweetness and blatant display of strength as he still held you with ease. It was hard not to be temped. “And you look like you’re awfully warm, parading here without a shirt.”

“Well, I’d call us even since you’re parading around in these absolutely sinful shorts. Makes me hot. I can warm you up,” he mumbled to your skin, lips moving to your ear, causing you to shudder.

How was it so easy for him to make you all hot and bothered? You guessed that at least, as he said, it made you even... it wasn’t difficult to get him riled up either.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Driving you crazy?” Steve offered, sounding awfully delighted at the idea and you only melted into him further at the reminiscence of your first kiss and what followed.

“Always,” you confirmed, deadly serious, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips or the mewl that escaped you when his teeth grazed the shell of your ear, warm breath tickling the sensitive skin of your neck.

“But you love it.”

“Uh-huh…”

“I can live with that with that then,” he said, stalking to the bed determinately. “Now let me drive you so crazy you can barely speak and the only sound you’re making is whimpering my name.”

He all but tossed you on the bed, a yelp of his name in fact erupting from your throat, followed by a fit of giggles that only died when his mouth seized yours, his lips only leaving when heading south to indeed drive you crazy.

And yes; you loved it.

And you loved him too.

In one unending moment I fall within your reach My song a sweet surrender Hold on to me Hold on to me

Before the girls could steal you from him, Steve decided – with your enthusiastic agreement – that you should once again try how it felt to make some morning lovin’ outside marriage. With the ceremony planned for the late afternoon, you had plenty of time; and needless to say, it was bliss. Then again, you believed that marital sex with Steve would be just as delightfully pleasant, thank you very much.

Then, it was a whirlwind – make up, hair, dress, a tear or two spilled when you saw the result in the mirror.

More tears spilled when you glanced out of the window and saw the tastefully and modestly decorated arch, the path created by few scattered rose petals, the male part of your almost family sans Clint in the suits, effectively hiding Steve from you; and you from his just in case, because no one wanted any bad luck.

Your staring was interrupted when your brother went to pick you up to lead you down the aisle.

Upon entering the room and setting his gaze on you, he promptly looked away with a sniffle. It both warmed your heart and made you laugh as did his remark.

“Nope, not giving you to him. In fact, I’m never giving you to anyone. No one will ever be worthy, so I’m keeping you.”

“Hush, Clinton, you’ll still have me,” Natasha winked at him as he took a deep calming breath before carefully eyeing you again.

Clearly, it hadn’t done the job, because few tears still found their way down his cheeks.

“You’re a knock-out, sis,” he sputtered hastily, but no less honestly – clearly moved to tears.

And yet… you snorted at his choice of words and he rolled his eyes, quick to compliment your beauty instead.

You wouldn’t have it any other way though, even appreciating his first remark more for it came from the bottom of his heart rather than from what convention required.

Embracing you carefully in fear he would mess up the work of art his wife and other girls created, he held you in his arms for a moment, as you retuned the hug, clutching at his suit with a little too force. From the corner of your eye, you noticed the bridesmaids clearing the room.

“It’s not like I’m leaving you, Bobo,” you hummed with a smile, throwing his own words from last night at him.

And you weren’t leaving him; your heart swelled with love for your brother, your father figure, your long-life friend.

With sniffle, he let go of you and looked you up and down, proud smile spreading on his lips.

“It’s okay. If you are, I have the best spy in the world for a wife, we’ll drag your ass back home.”

You just slapped his chest playfully and took a deep breath – it was time. Clint grasped your hand firmly then, elbows interlocking, and went to step out just a moment after the bridesmaids left to join the groomsmen.

Well-aware everyone was going to stare and that Steve awaited you at the end of the aisle to marry you, your legs were shaking minutely as the magnitude of the event finally dawned to you.

“Getting second thoughts now?” Clint teased you, eliciting a chuckle from you and shake of your head.

What a question.

“No. Just… please don’t let me fall,” you muttered to him, entirely serious and grateful for your choice of footwear – simple flats hidden by the long flowing skirt of your dress. Better chance of not spraining your ankle on your wedding day.

“Never.”

Clint squeezed your hand under his warm palm and you took a deep breath, stepping into the doorway. Soft melody welcomed you, your very own wedding march Bruce was playing on a mouth organ – something you had previously had no idea he was capable of.

Looking up from your skirt, you feasted your eyes on the company and the beautiful scenery for only a regretfully short moment, grateful for Sam’s Redwing programmed to record and take photos.

Your gaze instinctively searched the small crowd instead, until it fell under the arch where three men stood.

One of them was Sam himself, having obtained a licence so he could be your wedding registrar; he looked positively dashing. So did Bucky, who patted his best friend dressed in his old-fashioned green captain uniform on the shoulder, his smirk visible even from tens feet away as he stepped back.

Naturally, your gaze lingered on Steve, your feet acting of their own accord and following your brother’s lead.

Gosh, your future husband was the most handsome and absolutely hottest specimen to ever walk the Earth. Hair combed neatly to one side and in his old army uniform, he truly looked like the gentleman from another era he was and yet, he undeniably belonged exactly where he was. His eyes were bright and blue just like the sky, lips slightly parting before curling up into a brilliant smile which somehow still carried the tenderness he treated you with when he felt particularly affectionate.

He must have uttered something under his breath, because Bucky pressed his lips together as if he was holding back laugh. The absolutely best best man, ladies and gentleman.

Your found yourself smiling just as widely, a stray tear tickling the corner of your eye and you had to fight the sudden urge to ditch Clint in order to gather your skirts and run the rest of the way just to jump into Steve’s arms.

But in reality, there was no rush – here, on the damn island Tony rented, there was so much time that one short walk meant nothing in comparison.

“Alright, maybe I’ll give you to him,” Clint whispered, making you bite the inside of your cheek so you would cackle.

Leave it to your brother he would find Steve Rogers so fine he’d be willing to give you out just to have him become a part of your family.

One corner of Steve’s lips twitched in amusement – supersoldier hearing didn’t miss the remark then. Good. Then Bucky heard it too and you had a witness just in case Clint would change his mind. Again.

Finally, with your heart almost in your throat, you reached the end of the aisle, Clint gently putting your hand into Steve’s… without letting go.

“You be nice to her, Cap. And I mean really nice, you hear? Or else-“

“Hush,” you hissed good-naturedly in your brother’s direction, winking at him before you returned your gaze to Steve. “Hey there, handsome.”

Steve chuckled under his breath when Clint stepped back. He returned the greeting with soft ‘hey there, beautiful’ and then proceeded to lift your joined hands, brushing your knuckles with his lips – just like the day you shared your first kiss.

Well now you truly found yourself on the verge of crying. And Lord, you wanted to kiss him so much-

Sam cleared his throat loudly, casting you both a meaningful look as if he could read your mind and wanted to remind you that there were a few things to go through before that could happen.

Ugh. Formalities. Just let me kiss him…

Steve licked his lips – the audacity! – and turned, lightly tugging at your hand so you both faced your friend who held a little leather book open, beckoning towards the guests: Bucky and Natasha, the best man and the best woman, Clint, Bruce, Tony, Vision, Wanda, Sharon, Pepper. Just your closest friends and family.

Sam cleared his throat again.

“Alright. We all know why we gathered here today. To get these two amazing people married, so they could officially become a special team within our team.”

You grinned, peripherally noticing Steve eyeing you as well. Team indeed.

“This is the part where I would ask all of you, bride and groom included, to speak up now if you’re aware of anything standing in the way of this wedlock or to remain silent forever. But frankly, if you have something to say, right now is the perfect time to keep it to yourself. Just let these lovebirds get married…”

Muffled laughter and giggles erupted from your group. Honestly, you wouldn’t say it better. You noticed Clint shifting and Natasha forcefully holding his hand down; you bit down on your lip so you wouldn’t laugh and sent her a grateful smile instead. The best maid of honour ever.

“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear, folks. We have the rings, correct? Great. Just so you know, these two saps asked me to read one vow which they are making to each other, because they didn’t trust themselves to say theirs individually without bursting into tears. So now it’s left to me to cry instead. Thanks for that.”

Your cheeks were honestly starting to hurt from smiling so wide, but tears prickled in your eyes acutely just at the thought of the vow you agreed on. You spent countless hours thinking about what you wanted to say and realized that your vow would be too long and that you would in fact start crying and that you could never name all the things you loved Steve for. It had been a relief to find out that Steve shared the sentiment and the deal was made.

Natasha and Bucky dutifully laid the rings on the pillow Wanda’s powers held levitating by your and Steve’s side – not without Bucky finding a split second to compliment your appearance and earning a brief smirk from Steve.

“I know,” Steve uttered and you wondered if there was a dare going around as to who would make you burst out laughing first.

This was your wedding dammit. You could be at least a bit a lady and remain collected.

Hardly.

“With this ring,” Sam started, breathing in and out and you knew you already lost, first tear rolling down your cheek as you gazed into Steve’s inviting eyes, “I give myself to you without giving up myself. With this ring, I surrender to you for I have faith you understand the value of wielding such power and for I deem you worthy of it. With this ring, I promise to love you, to respect you and to support you to be your best self as I trust you to do the same for me, for us.”

You blinked away the waterfalls, reaching almost blindly for Steve’s ring and with fingers trembling – with giddiness, not nerves – you somehow succeeded at slipping it on his left ring finger.

“I do,” you whispered, your voice cracking even in such simple sentence and the watery smile Steve graced you with made your ribcage feel too small for your swelling heart.

Fingers equally clumsy, he slipped a ring on you as well, shoulders squaring as if in pride.

“I do,” he said firmly, the damp path down his left cheek only adding severity to his vow.

“You may-- uhm, okay, you may kiss the bride, your wife--- I mean, Mrs. Rogers. You may kiss the groom, your husband…” Sam mumbled under his breath until he didn’t, because Steve pulled you in for a kiss the same moment Sam said the first ‘may’ and incidentally, the same moment you practically threw yourself at Steve.

Laughter and whistles erupted from the group of your friends as Steve bend you back dramatically, the determined press of his lips to yours not at all disrupted by the change of angle, claiming your mouth in ways that made you shudder and stirred flames in your belly.

Years and years later, you’d recall that kiss and realized an amazing thing; how it felt just like your first kiss, your last one, and every single one in between.

With you still practically horizontal, Steve’s crinkling eyes met yours, delighted smile on his kiss-swollen lips.

“I love you, Mrs. Rogers,” he hummed, adding a cheeky grin. “You’re stuck with me now.”

“The horror,” you muttered back teasingly, pulling at his nape, demanding another kiss, your own declaration whispered to his mouth. “I love you too, Mr. Rogers.”

And you did. Gosh, you did.

S.R. masterlist

(divider by firefly-graphics)

Well. This turned out SO DIFFERENTLY than I anticipated and SO MUCH LONGER. If you feel like leaving feedback, I’ll be grateful. If not, well. *shurgs*

Excuse me while I go and continue dreaming of ONE fictional man. Ugh. Anyway.

Thank you for reading!

And once again, thanks to WIYBUPT for hosting and for just being awesome in general :)

#catfa 10th anniversary challenge #fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff #barton reader #barton reader fic #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #steve rogers #captain america #steve rogers fafiction #steve rogers fanfic #my timid hello my clumsy goodbye #anika ann

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wistfulcynic · 4 years ago

Text

good ships and wood ships and ships that sail the sea

SUMMARY:

Blackbeard has long coveted the Jolly Roger, for her speed and her beauty and her impossible daring. And of course to get her away from his arch enemy Captain Hook. But when the finest ship in all the realms is finally his, he soon discovers that there is more to the story of Hook and the Jolly than he could ever have imagined--and possibly more than he can handle.

(Canon compliant up to the end of S3, divergent from S4 and completely ignores 6)

AO3

Happy New Year!! 🤞🤞🤞 it will be much, MUCH better than the last few have, for all of us. Thanks to @csjanuaryjoy for making these dark days brighter for the past five years! This is my third time participating and it has always been a bright spot in my year ❤️.

This fic grew out of a head canon that I think many of us share--that the Jolly Roger is truly more than just a ship. That there’s something about her magic that allows Killian to sail her on his own, and a special relationship between them. And for all that many of us have written about how Killian felt giving up his ship for Emma, it wasn’t until @winterbythesea‘s latest chapter of Given The Choice that it really sank into my brain how much Killian would have hated knowing that the Jolly was in Blackbeard’s control... and then I thought, but what would she feel about that? What would she do? And thus this fic was born.

Told from Blackbeard’s POV... just roll with it.

good ships and wood ships and ships that sail the sea:

The first time Blackbeard tripped on a loose board on the deck of the Jolly Roger, he was annoyed. At himself more than anything, for not watching where he was going and for making a fool of himself in front of Hook’s crew.

His crew. They were his crew now. He was their captain, whether they liked it or not.

He’d had to leave a fair few loyal men back on the Queen Anne’s Revenge—not being fool enough himself to misplace his own ship the way Hook had—which meant the Jolly’s crew was presently comprised of far too many of Hook’s men for his comfort. He’d made them swear an oath of loyalty, of course, but they knew as well as he did that pirate oaths of that sort go only as far as the next change of leadership. True loyalty lies only in men’s hearts.

And possibly, Blackbeard soon began to realise, in the hearts of ships as well.

The second time he tripped he fell flat on his face with a sound that Bones told him later was akin to that of a melon split open on a rock. “I feared fer yer ‘ead so’s I did, Cap’n,” he growled. Bones had been at Blackbeard’s side since they both were barely more than lads—and never once shown so much as a hint of anything resembling humour—so he did not die for that remark.

Young Harry Hannigan, who laughed aloud the third time Blackbeard tripped and went tumbling face-first into a fish-barrel, was not so fortunate. Blackbeard tossed him overboard with both legs in irons, to set an example.

No one laughed when he tripped again. But he kept tripping.

The migratory—predatory—loose board on her deck was far from the only peculiar happening aboard the Jolly Roger. There was also the distinctly determined way she “drifted” off-course if her bearings were not constantly and painstakingly maintained. There were the knots in the sheets that never seemed to hold and the sails that slipped from the rigging at precisely that moment when they were most needed to catch the wind. There were the crates of supplies that went missing and the locks in the brig that wouldn’t latch, the hammocks in the crew’s quarters that loosed themselves from their hitches in the night, snatching the men from their much-needed rest and tumbling them headfirst onto the damp and draughty floor.

Now Blackbeard, despite what Hook was wont to claim, was no fool, and it wasn’t long before he divined a pattern to these occurrences. When Hook’s men were at the helm the ship’s course kept steady and when they were up in the rigging all knots and sails held fast. Their hammocks remained firmly fixed to the wall and once he’d appointed Starkey as quartermaster, the missing crates not only affected a mysterious reappearance but remained thereafter consistently—ostentatiously, he felt—present and accounted for.

Pirates are suspicious beings by nature, and Blackbeard personally credited his success in the field to his complete lack of faith or trust in anyone, with the possible and very tenuous exception of Bones. But suspicions, he reminded himself, are not facts, however compelling they may seem, and so it was not until one afternoon as they slipped into perilous waters in pursuit of a valuable prize that he overheard Starkey murmuring to the mainmast “Steady on, old girl, we need ye t’ take us safely through these shoals,” and comprehension truly began to dawn.

He recalled how Hook had always stood at the helm of this ship, with that smirking arrogance that set Blackbeard’s teeth on edge. How he’d seemed to move with the vessel, as much a part of her as the hull and masts. How they would appear from nowhere and when least expected, a yellow streak across the horizon, cannons blazing even as they moved and never once falling short of their mark, the whole manoeuvre so quick and so deft it seemed nigh on impossible. This was why Blackbeard had coveted the Jolly Roger, why he would have done anything to have her—for her speed, yes, and her elegant form, but more than that for her impossible daring. For her mischievous nature and her staunch loyalty. Her stalwart love.

Twaddle, he told himself sharply. Foolish nonsense. A ship felt no loyalty. A ship did not love.

And yet.

The storm caught them just off the tip of Glowerhaven, swirling out of the farrago of warm winds off the southern seas and icy ones from the north, and the fierce, opposing currents that grappled beneath the water. Blackbeard had been witness to such storms before, had been wrecked in one as a lad when the Moordaunt foundered and sank in a vicious gale off the coast of Coabana. He would never forget the helplessness of standing on the deck as it was rent to shards beneath his feet, torn by the weight of the water and the strength of the wind. He could never forget the iron grip of fear on his heart as he’d scrabbled to catch hold of anything he could cling to, gripping like a limpet to a broken scrap of plank as he was swept out to sea, buffeted by merciless waves with no thought in his head beyond keeping it above water from one breath to the next.

Fear’s chill fingers sank deep in his chest again now as the waves began to swell, higher even than the ones that swallowed the Moordaunt. But Blackbeard was no longer a green cabin boy and he forced the fear away, buried it deep as he stalked along the deck, barking orders to his crew. Orders they needed to hear just as he needed to give them; only discipline and purpose would keep their own fear at bay.

They rose to the challenge, his men and Hook’s; together they secured the ballast and stowed the sails, and lashed one another to the masts and railings, anything that might hold them fast to the ship when to go overboard meant certain death. They would make it, Blackbeard thought. The ship was steady and the men undaunted, and they would make it through. The fear loosened its grip and he turned to Bones with a look of triumph—only to find the first mate’s eyes wide and stark with terror.

“Cap’n!” he cried out, but the wind whipped the word away before it could reach Blackbeard’s ears. He turned to look where Bones was looking, off the port bow where a wall of water appeared to hang suspended in eerie calm, rising slowly, rising… rising… rising impossibly high until it it broke in a froth of white against the dull grey sky.

The wave arced downward directly towards them with the weight of the ocean’s fury at its back and Blackbeard knew, there in that endless moment he knew that this breath would be his last. The wave would roll the ship—there was no way that it could not—would tear her asunder as the Moordaunt had been torn, and the next day’s dawn would find whatever splinters may remain of her washed up on Glowerhaven’s rocky shores. He felt a flash of outrage—how dare he die like this—then clenched his fists around the wheel and closed his eyes, and offered the tattered remnants of his soul to the gods.

And then.

The wheel spun, whipping him round and flinging him into a heap upon the deck. He grabbed for it again; barely had his fingers closed around the sodden wood when the ship heaved up and swung around in a pinpoint turn—as she had so often done for Hook—then dipped her bow low as the wave began to break over them. The wave broke, Blackbeard was sure of it, but the Jolly paid no heed; she dipped her bow beneath the water’s surface and surged forward, against the wave and through it, slicing that impenetrable wall as a cutlass slices flesh.

Blackbeard clung to the wheel as the breath was snatched from his lungs, as the water fought against them, crashed around them, and still the Jolly pressed on, through the wave and out the back of it, where she bobbed like a child’s bath toy for a moment then swept round, faster than any ship could possibly move, making for the curving point of Glowerhaven’s cape and a large cave that Blackbeard had never known existed, buried deep within the cliffside. There she came to rest with a shudder like a sigh of relief that echoed through the marrow of all their bones.

Blackbeard lay gasping on the quarterdeck with his hand still clutching the wheel, long past the point where he should have risen, should have gone to check the status of his crew. He knew that they were fine, somehow he knew that each and every soul aboard had made it through alive. She would, of course, have made certain of it.

“You—” his voice was weak and croaky; he cleared his throat and tried again. “You saved us.” He would feel foolish later but just then, caught up as he was in an overwhelming rush of relief and gratitude, the idea of speaking to a ship seemed a perfectly sound one. “Thank you.”

The Jolly huffed and a voice whispered through the corners of Blackbeard’s mind.

Don’t mention it, it said. Seriously. Don’t.

The next morning when they ventured from the cave again the skies were clear and the sea calm, and Blackbeard tripped thrice within the space of an hour. The merry sound of laughter echoed through his mind each time.

He’d had the Jolly only a few months, barely enough time to truly learn her nature, when Hook returned to claim her. In typical Hook fashion he came swaggering onto the deck with no plan and no backup, none but that gormless first mate and a lovelorn mermaid princess at his side. Blackbeard longed to teach the picaroon a lesson he’d not soon forget, but he knew—from the way the ship reached out, how she called to Hook before his boot had even touched her planks—that any efforts he might make could only come to naught. He gave them a good fight regardless, watched in seething fury as she all but cradled that one-handed bastard in her rigging, protected him with her sails and with that thrice-damned loose board, and only hoped he held enough cards to escape the cursed vessel with his life.

Fortunately, he had trumps to play on the little mermaid.

Returning to the Queen Anne’s Revenge with his tail between his legs and his every move dogged by whispers of how he’d been saved from an ignominious death by a woman was certainly not Blackbeard’s proudest moment. Determined to assuage his pride and reputation in pillage and plunder, he took his ship out on the seas, where it soon became evident that everywhere they went they were just that little bit too late. Every ship they targeted had already been hit, every village plundered. However fast they moved was never fast enough, and Blackbeard rather suspected that he knew the reason why.

When word reached his ears that his former crewmen remaining on the Jolly had sworn enthusiastic allegiance to Hook and were now vigorously raiding up and down the coast of Agrabah in a ship so thrilled to be back with her true captain that she performed feats of such fantastic daring and skill that they defied belief, he smashed the chair in his cabin in his fury and had three men flogged for insolence when they came to see what all the ruckus was about.

The tales were unbelievable but Blackbeard believed them. He knew what that ship was capable of.

He doubted the Jolly Roger would ever fall into his hands again; now that she and Hook were back together they would not easily be parted. But he dreamed of it nevertheless, dreamed of taking that ship and teaching her manners, dominating her, winning her loyalty to him and him alone, by force if necessary. In his dreams he was her master and Hook lay broken and defeated at his feet, Blackbeard’s sword at his throat, begging for death.

And yet. Not even a year passed by before he had Hook at his mercy, alone in Blackbeard’s tavern and surrounded by Blackbeard’s men, his famous bravado worn threadbare by a raw desperation that was plain to see in his eyes. The Jolly Roger, Hook offered, in exchange for a magic bean, and Blackbeard, to his own surprise as much as anyone’s and though his sword hand itched to do it, did not kill him. He took the trade instead.

“What could be so important that you would trade your ship for a bean?” he asked Hook, on the deck of the ship herself so she would be sure to hear.

“There’s—someone I need to find,” Hook replied.

“A woman,” sneered Blackbeard.

Hook nodded. “Aye.”

Blackbeard was triumphant as he watched Hook disappear into the swirling portal, off into another realm from which, with any luck, he’d not return. The ship must bow to him, now, he thought, she must. Hook had left her, abandoned her, traded her for another woman, and Blackbeard knew as well as any the lengths of spite to which a woman scorned will go.

And yet. Barely had he taken two steps upon her deck than he tripped again, tumbling arse over teakettle down the steps from the quarterdeck with mocking laughter ringing in his ears.

You don’t become a pirate captain though mercy, Hook had once said, and on this point at least, they could agree. Blackbeard was clean out of patience and thoroughly done with being made to look a fool. He took the ship in hand and he forced her into compliance, worked her to exhaustion with her sheets tight and her sails high, dragged her along rocky coasts and across stormy seas all the way to Arendelle. He could sense her emotions now, her hatred and her fury, the bitter resentment and desire to see him dead—but he also learned to sense the shift in the air that came just before she loosened a board in his path and took malicious pleasure in the impotence of her rage when he stepped clear of the danger each time, with a mocking cackle and a supercilious pat upon whichever part of her was closest.

“There there, lass,” he taunted. “There’s no cause for that. You’re mine now and I’ve no intention of letting you go. Best to just get used to it.”

In Arendelle however, he fell foul of another scheming princess, too caught up in goading her to sense the ship’s intent until it was too late and he had tripped again, tumbling this time into his own sea chest and trapped within it by the princess’s quick thinking, then tossed into the sea. It was Bones who saved him that time along with his bosun Stu Jenkins, who leapt in after him and between them managed to haul the chest from the water before Blackbeard could drown and drag it to safety upon a tiny spit of sand and rock. There they three were stranded with naught but coconuts and the shade of a single tree until Anne Bonny—of all the bloody people—happened by and was so delighted by their predicament that she allowed them to negotiate passage on her ship under the tenuous protection of parlay.

“You’ll be some time in living this down, I fear,” she said, with laughter glinting in her eyes.

And with that, the iron entered into Blackbeard’s soul. Never again, he swore to himself. Never again would he sully his boot by stepping foot onto the Jolly Roger. Never again would he covet anything Hook had. The Queen Anne’s Revenge was a fine ship, tough and sturdy and fast and she was enough. Never again. He swore it.

Years passed before he had a chance to test his resolve on the matter.

The tavern was noisy and crowded, the air a miasma of ale fumes and smoke and men whose approach to personal hygiene was casual at best. In one corner a game of dice was loudly and hotly contested amongst a group of sailors rowdy and jovial in their drunkenness, whilst in another shady dealings were going down between a pair of bar wenches and a man whose discomfort in his surroundings was palpable. Blackbeard could not sympathise. This was his kind of atmosphere and he revelled in it.

He sat at a table surrounded by his men, cards and dice spread out before him and a buxom wench to sit on his knee and flatter his vanity. He felt like a king holding court, the undisputed master of the seas now that years had passed since either hide or hair was seen of Hook or that wretched scow of his. A toast was raised to his good health and just as he lifted the tankard of ale to his lips—for why should he not drink his own health?—the tavern went abruptly quiet, an unnatural hush that fell like lead and hung in the air more heavily than smoke from a dampered chimney.

Blackbeard lowered the tankard and turned to the door, and his lip curled into a deeply unpleasant sneer. There, framed in the tavern’s crooked doorway was Hook, dressed in a most peculiar manner, with a short, fitted jacket and trousers made of a material Blackbeard could not identify. At his side was a woman, her long legs encased in similar trousers and wearing as well a similar jacket, only hers was a vibrant shade of red. Her hair flowed down her back in waves of an extraordinary golden hue, framing an exquisite face set in an expression that dared him or anyone present to start something with her.

So this was she, Blackbeard thought, the woman Hook loved more than his ship. Skinnier than he tended to prefer them though he supposed he could see the appeal. There was a toughness behind that fair face, a core of steel wrapped up in pretty dressing—not unlike Hook himself. She stood like him as well, deceptively casual but poised for a fight. They stood together, not touching but united, a team, and Blackbeard took one look at them and knew that whatever they were after he wanted no part of it.

“Bugger off,” he spat.

“Now, now.” Hook attempted conciliation. “No need for incivility, mate. We’re here to make a deal.”

“I’ve made my last deal with you.”

“And here the Jolly was finally beginning to warm up to you,” cajoled Hook. “Come on, third time lucky.”

“I want no part of you or your gods-bedamned hulk,” Blackbeard sneered. “Find someone else to be your patsy.”

“But you’re the only patsy I know who has a hoard of magic beans,” quipped Hook, ignoring his blonde when she smacked him on the arm.

“I thought you were going to play nice,” she hissed.

“It’s too late for that, I fear.” Hook tucked his thumb behind his belt buckle and raised an eyebrow. Blackbeard rolled his eyes. Different clothes, same obnoxious swagger. The man would never change. “Look, mate, if you don’t want the ship then name your price,” said Hook, with a note of sincerity in his tone that caught Blackbeard by surprise. “We need a bean to get back to our daughter, and we simply haven’t the time to climb a beanstalk to find one. Not again.”

The woman snorted and Hook flashed her a grin, and though they still weren’t touching the connection they shared simmered in the air between them. Blackbeard watched the exchange, intrigued despite his better judgement. “Tell me the tale of this beanstalk,” he said. “That’s my price. If your story’s good enough then you can have your bean, and you won’t even need to fight your way out of this tavern to use it.”

“Hmm,” murmured Hook, with a glance around the room. “It’s a solid offer. What say you, Swan?”

The woman fixed Blackbeard with an assessing look. Her eyes were green, he observed, the rich shade of tree moss, intelligent and unflinching. Without breaking eye contact she grabbed a chair and swung it round, straddled it and leant her arms on its back. Her lip twitched in an almost-smile. “Throw in a round of drinks and you’ve got yourself a deal,” she said.

Blackbeard stared at her as the tension in the tavern drew unbearably taut, poised on the knife’s edge of his judgement. Then he threw back his head and roared with laughter.

“I like this one, Hook,” he said.

“I’m rather fond of her myself.” Hook pulled up his own chair as voices rose around them again, bright and boisterous, and Blackbeard signalled the barman for more tankards of ale. Ale of which, he was impressed to note, the woman finished every drop.

“Well, lass,” he said to her, once the tale of the beanstalk had been told. “Any woman who can best this blackguard, leave him chained in the lair of a giant and not look back is one I am pleased to do business with. You’ve earned your bean.” From his pocket he withdrew a small leather pouch and from that a magic bean, holding it up to the light for them to see.

“Thank you.” The woman accepted it with a smile and tucked it away into her own pocket.

“Thank you for the entertainment,” replied Blackbeard. “And now you’d best be on your way, before this lot reconsiders that offer of safe exit.”

He imagined they’d have no wish to tarry anyway and indeed they did not. Blackbeard took his tankard over to the window and watched as they proceeded down the alley that led from the tavern and along the dock to where the Jolly Roger was moored, just visible from where he stood. Even from such a distance and with so many years passed since he’d stood on her deck, Blackbeard could still sense the ship’s reaction, her pleasure and relief at their return, and, curiously, a fondness for the woman that very nearly equalled the depth of her love for Hook.

Hook and his two wenches, thought Blackbeard with a chuckle. May the bastard have the pleasure of them both.

“Ye sure as that was wise, Cap’n?” inquired Bones from where he hovered at Blackbeard’s elbow, scowling at the scene. “Lettin’ ‘im go like that, I mean? Ye could at least’ve held ‘im a spell, or ransomed ‘er. I ‘ear tell she’s a princess.”

“I’ve heard that as well,” said Blackbeard, “and frankly I’ve had my fill of princesses, and of Hook. Good riddance to the lot of them.”

“Aye, Cap’n,” said Bones.

“Though it may interest you to hear,” continued Blackbeard, “that their journey home might not turn out to be as quick or as smooth as they’re anticipating. It’s possible that they may find that bean doesn’t quite work the way they expect it to.”

Bones choked on his ale. “Ye gave ‘em the accursed one,” he stated, without a particle of surprise expressed in his flat and affectless tone.

Blackbeard grinned a wicked grin. “I gave them the accursed one.”

Together the pirates watched as the Jolly swept away from her mooring, as a swirling abyss appeared in the water, as the ship dipped into it with a flourish and vanished from sight. Blackbeard was feeling rather pleased with himself and with the subtlety of the manoeuvre that would pay Hook back at least in part for all the slights and humiliations Blackbeard had suffered at his hand in the long years of their acquaintance. The thought of the daughter did give him a twinge—even he drew the line at harming children—but their separation was unlikely to be very long. Hook would find his way home again and far sooner than he should, of that Blackbeard had no doubt. The bastard had always had the devil’s own luck, and with his women at his side there would be very little he couldn’t handle.

Blackbeard tipped his tankard in salute to the now-calm ocean and drank a silent toast, then clapped a hand on Bones’ shoulder and turned back to the tavern to take up his throne again.

There are good ships and wood ships and ships that sail the sea. But the best ships are friendships, may they always be!

-Irish proverb

@thisonesatellite @ohmightydevviepuu @katie-dub @kmomof4 @mariakov81 @stahlop @snowbellewells @shireness-says @teamhook @killianjones-twopointoh @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @captain-emmajones

#csjj 2021 #cs ff #cs fic #cs ff au #canon compliant #canon divergent #divergent from 4A #ignores S6 entirely #captain swan #the Jolly Roger #killian and his ship #it's a ship ship #Blackbeard's POV #some jolly old crack nonsense #good ships and wood ships and ships that sail the sea #profdanglaisstuff

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