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waynes-multiverse · 11 hours ago

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Time After Time – Chapter 1

Summary: Unable to control your abilities, you’re stuck in the present with Billy Butcher, his team, and America’s first asshole. At this point, you’ve become Soldier Boy’s personal punching bag. But when an accident leaves you stranded in 1942, you run into a familiar face and suddenly rely on your future tormentor’s help as your only hope.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x supe!Reader

Warnings: 18+ for language, angst, Soldier Boy being an insufferable ass, reader is a supe with chronokinesis (time manipulation), post S3 alternate ending, enemies to lovers & slow burn, set partially in 1942

Word Count: 6.0k

Posted on Patreon March 1, 2025

A/N: Weeee, so excited to finally share the first part of this series with all of you! From mortal enemies to classic romance, crazy and angsty time travel theories, and a glimpse behind the green suit (in both ways), we're gonna have a lot of fun with this one 😉💕

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Chapter 1: Of All the Gin Joints...

“Move, or I’ll move you.”

Annoyed, you huffed a sigh and lifted your feet off the coffee table, shifting a few inches to the right, so Soldier Boy could pass by with a deep grumble. You rolled your eyes back slightly when he plopped down next to you on the worn, old couch in the office of the Flatiron Building.

“A ‘please’ wouldn’t hurt you every once in a while,” you muttered with a glare at the supe.

“Disagree,” he huffed.

When Butcher and his team tracked you down and recruited you almost a year ago, you surely hadn’t signed up to spend your days with a fossil from the past century. All they had wanted you to do was find the weapon that could destroy Homelander. That weapon turned out to be Soldier Boy.

And you had found him, freed the man from forty years of Russian torture without receiving so much as a ‘thank you,’ and helped the team take down Homelander, who was currently powerless and safely locked up in a CIA black site. Now, you were still here – as was Soldier Boy.

To your dismay, he wasn’t just the most powerful supe on the planet, especially after his own son’s steep fall from grace, but he was also the biggest motherfucking asshole that ever walked the earth.

Soldier Boy was obnoxious, loud, rude, sexist, racist, lazy, arrogant, selfish, cruel, deceitful, complacent, vindictive, inconsiderate, paranoid, ruthless and unsympathetic. Honestly, you’d need a whole dictionary just to get through every single character trait you hated about that man.

This morning he’d been particularly belligerent as soon as he had set foot inside the office and Hughie bumped into him, causing Soldier Boy to spill his iced latte. To be fair, the guy had just been standing in the doorway like a moron for a full three minutes – he’d stared at you the whole time, probably thinking of new ways to torture you.

Today marked your 30th birthday of all things, so it was only natural your over six-feet playground tormentor would be present for the occasion.

“Led Zeppelin, huh?” he noted with an arched brow, eyeing your choice of outfit. You mostly wore band shirts from tours you’d been to from your time traveling adventures.

“Yeah, I got it for my twenty-fifth birthday. I went to Zeppelin’s first tour in 1969. Only wear it on special occasions,” you told him with a smile.

In some rare moments, it was actually possible to have a normal fucking conversation with him. You hoped it was one of those. Aside from his grumpiness in the morning, maybe he’d decided to give you a break on your birthday.

“Oh, yeah, right…” He rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Happy fucking birthday, I guess.”

“That is so sweet of you, thank you,” you replied wryly.

He knew what you were doing. His smile rose – and then morphed into a provocative smirk. “So, thirty, huh? How’s that feminist bullshit working out for your biological clock, sweetheart?”

“Don’t kill him,” Annie reminded you of the office mantra with calm in her voice as she sat behind you at her desk, causing Soldier Boy to snort a laugh.

“Isn’t it time for your nap, gramps? You’re sundowning,” you retorted instead with a teasing smile.

You took his taunts lightheartedly. After all, you didn’t think you’d have to worry in that department – much like him. For some reason, you didn’t age… a lot. At least, it was slower than the average supe and human. You figured it might have to do with dropping in and out of wormholes. You had aged just fine as a kid but it progressively began to slow around your sixteenth birthday – the first time you’d traveled through time and jumped to Nirvana’s MTV Unplugged show in New York of December 1993.

You remembered your parents had been fighting behind the broken and yellowing partition slider of a trailer you had called your home. You’d lain on the pull-out bed with your headphones on and a Walkmen, trying to drown out their screaming. You listened to that record and wished you could be there – and then you were.

You’d found your ruby slippers.

To this day, you still got ID’ed at every bar, club, and liquor store alike. Soldier Boy had never been carded. He’d once claimed it was because he was famous, to which you’d almost spat out your drink and told him the wrinkles didn’t lie. Least to say, that little joke hadn’t flown well with the supe.

“You know, doll, if you ever need that tension to disappear from your shoulders, I’m right here.” Soldier Boy smirked cockily at you and spread his legs a little further apart. Not a day passed by when he didn’t hit on you either – or anything with tits, really. “Just say the word, and I fuck it right outta you. I do like ‘em older, you know, so I don’t give shit. But if you wanna get cracking on this baby thing, we better fuck on this couch right now.”

“Please don’t,” Hughie pleaded in a high-pitched sigh, glued in his spot next to Annie.

“No, thanks,” you scoffed and scrunched your nose in disgust. “You’re a fucking pig.”

“Hey, c’mon, I know you want to,” replied Soldier Boy without an ounce of self-reflection, his smirk only widening as his hand crawled up your thigh. “Bet you’ve been waiting for a big dick like mine, haven’t you?”

“Get your fucking hands off of me!” You slapped his fingers away, huffing in frustration.

Not even your kindergarten bully had been this fucking annoying – and that kid threw a dodge ball at your face and broke your nose.

Fortunately, while your own powers were on the fritz, you still had some superhuman strength. Sure, not as much as Soldier Boy, but if he shoved, you could at least push back enough for him to leave you alone.

For, like, five seconds.

Soldier Boy laughed loudly at your rejection. “I do like ‘em feisty,” he murmured with a sultry voice, invading your space even more as he shifted closer on the couch. Lion king on the prowl. “You know, you’d be less useless if you spread your legs every once in a while.”

Jumping up from your seat, you rounded the table to bring space between you and face him properly. It was always smarter when he was in your view at all times and you could watch his brazen hands with an eagle eye – the same hands that currently began to roll a blunt on the coffee table.

“Hey, if it weren’t for me, you’d still be frozen solid in a box in Russia,” you bit.

“Well, we’d like to think we would’ve found him eventually, love,” Butcher threw in from across the room, the sly grin on his face telling you he was enjoying the show.

“See?” Soldier Boy sneered complacently. “Fucking useless.”

“You’re fucking useless!” you yelled, anger surging through every inch of your body. “No one fucking likes you! You don’t have friends, you don’t have family, and everyone in this room fucking despises you – just like your old team!”

Slowly, he rose from his spot on the couch, nostrils flaring, his sheer height imposing as he towered over you like the Empire State. A part of you was glad there was still a piece of furniture between you – even though that wouldn’t stop him in the slightest.

“You take that fucking back,” he snarled, one hand balling into a fist by his side while the other pointed a warning finger at you.

However, you stood your ground, crossing your arms in front of your chest, a challenging look in your eyes but a subtle swallow in your throat. “No,” you said defiantly and bristled. “I’ll drop you into the fucking Jurassic era where you belong, fossil. Watch you become a T-Rex’s fucking chew toy.”

Soldier Boy’s grin boldly widened, green eyes shimmering daringly. “Do. It.”

“Oy, simmer down, kids,” Butcher assuaged but didn’t even bother to glance up from the newspaper in his hands. Instead, the Brit leaned back in his chair and threw his legs up on the desk, settling into a more comfortable position.

Soldier Boy threw him a dismissive look, annoyed at the interruption, before his attention turned back to you with a spiteful sneer. “You know, if I were you, I would’ve used those powers properly. I would’ve gone back and fucking killed baby Hitler or some shit.”

You scoffed a humorless chuckle. “Yeah, not surprising you would’ve killed a fucking baby,” you retorted dryly.

“See, this is why you’re a fucking failure,” he taunted and stepped closer, his face only inches away from yours now. You could feel his hot breath against your skin. “Those powers were clearly wasted on you, doll. Women are too fucking soft.”

You snorted, shaking your head. You didn’t even know why you still argued with that asshole. He’d never change. And you sure as hell couldn’t say shit like:

What d’you know? You’ve never seen a war zone from the inside, you fucking bigoted coward.

“I’m not soft,” you insisted instead, narrowing your eyes to a glare.

“Prove it.”

“I wouldn’t hesitate to go back in time and fucking kill you!”

At this point, you wouldn’t. You really wouldn’t fucking mind at all.

However, Soldier Boy only laughed in your face like you were the bug about to hit his shield. “Oh, you can certainly try, sweetheart. But you can’t, can ya? ‘Cause you’re fucking broken. Like I said, useless,” he reiterated harshly, his sneer widening when his hand reached out and clasped your chin between his fingers. “Don’t worry. I’ll find some good use for you. Especially for that mouth.”

Furiously, you thwarted his advances once more. “I said don’t fucking touch me!”

“Yo, Soldier Boy, c’mon! Leave her alone now,” MM warned, finally getting fed up too. He usually avoided the supe to the best of his abilities, only snapping every once in a while when the asshole took it too far.

This time, MM only got involved because Hughie kept sending him frantic looks of panic during your heated exchange, probably worried you’d antagonize the supe so much he’d detonate the whole building.

“Mind your own fucking business, punk,” Soldier Boy dismissed the intervention, his venomous eyes still fixed on you.

The anger was storming through your body and closing your throat with a tight chokehold. You could barely breathe as your chest heaved and your ears rang. It was always worse when you got angry. Unfortunately for you, Soldier Boy had a way of pushing your buttons and setting off your triggers.

Your superpowers had the ability to control and bend time – or at least they used to. You had mostly used it to stop the clock and get an extension on your homework deadlines. But technically, you could also travel through time.

Once you had found out how that worked, well, you quickly became addicted. You went to concerts of bands that didn’t tour anymore, you’d shamelessly make money on Wall Street and placed bets on football games, and sometimes, you even ate dessert twice.

It was all about the little things.

But that all stopped when you accidentally cast yourself into the Middle Ages and almost got burned at the stake for witchcraft. For some reason, your powers wouldn’t work until the last second – you figured extreme distress had been a factor.

When you closed your eyes at night, you could still feel the scorching heat underneath your bare soles and smell the smoke reaching your nose and lungs.

Afterward, you didn’t want to use your powers any longer – not that you could. PTSD was a real bitch sometimes.

You had lived quietly and alone in a cabin near Montréal for years. After your parents found out they couldn’t make money off of you, they kicked you to the curb. And when you knocked on Vought’s doors, asking for help, they told you not to use your abilities – before they tried to kill you. That was the moment you’d realized you might be more powerful than you’d initially surmised. Until then, you had only used your powers for your pleasure and the occasional personal gain.

So, maybe, Soldier Boy was right when he said you had never used your gift wisely.

After your flight from Vought, you lived under a fake name and took up online college classes in physics and history to understand your abilities better and avoid grave mistakes.

And boy, time travel was a fucking bitch.

Years of study could be summarized to this, however: If you even so much so as killed the wrong fly in 1783, the whole world could go extinct.

Or in Vought’s terms: If you accidentally fucked up history, it might fuck with their business and money.

That was the reason why they had been trying to get rid of you for the longest time – until Butcher showed up on your doorstep. You had no idea how the Brit could’ve found you or even known about your powers in the first place. After your escape, Vought had kept your existence quiet. They knew if the wrong people found you, it would end direly for them.

Wrong people like William Butcher.

At first, he wanted you to go back in time and, in his words, “kill the chubby, little cape cunt.” Needless to say, you had declined. Even if Homelander was the worst creature to ever walk this earth, excluding his sperm donor, you wouldn’t kill a baby. You wouldn’t kill anything or anyone, really.

If anything, you could be classified as a bit of hedonist – or “a fucking hippie,” as Soldier Boy once had put it. Which, granted, was probably a trait you both shared. Although, Soldier Boy took the whole fucking cake and ate it, too. At least all you ever did was steal a tiny slice every once in a while.

In the end, you had never asked for these powers. You were just trying to make the best out of a bad situation.

But when Butcher then asked you if you could at least “hop back” to retrieve the weapon that had neutralized Soldier Boy in 1984, you finally told him you were essentially useless.

A part of you wanted to help, though. While you had closed yourself off from the rest of the world, you had still followed the news. You knew it had gotten bad out there. You could see Homelander spinning out of control and threatening to burn the world. You knew soon enough your house would burn, too.

You knew the monster needed to be stopped.

So, you offered Billy Butcher the only thing you could – a glimpse into the past, so he could find the weapon in the present.

And you did. You saw how Soldier Boy’s own team had despised him so much they handed him off to the Russians during an ambush in Nicaragua – but they hadn’t killed him.

The diabolical smirk on Butcher’s face had scared you. You knew he’d realized in that moment that you could be valuable after all. So, naturally, he threatened to give up your location to Vought if you didn’t join his team.

And well, here you were.

You’d traveled to Russia, you’d freed Soldier Boy, and you’d defeated Homelander. But even after the job was done, you stuck around.

Hughie, Annie, MM, Frenchie, Kimiko, and even Butcher – they had all sort of become your friends. And they protected you, even though Vought had sworn they were done hunting you. No one trusted Stan Edgar, and you knew he would probably still rather have you buried six-feet-deep if he ever got the chance.

So it was nice to know the whole team stood behind you. Well, all but one.

Part of the deal with Edgar had been a request to keep Soldier Boy away from Vought’s business. The guy was smart enough to know he wanted nothing to do with the ticking time bomb, either.

“And what are we supposed to do with that wanker, huh?” Butcher had asked as all of you stood in a very breezy office at Vought Tower – which had still been under heavy construction after the fallout.

“Let him play hero, keep an eye on him, and I’m sure we’ll have no issues, Mr. Butcher.” Edgar had smiled cunningly, his eyes flickering to you.

Afterward, you had decided to pack up like Maeve and finally live your life. You’d even applied as a physics professor at a small college. But then Soldier Boy made his own request: Either you’d stay, or he’d walk. And if he had walked, your deal with Edgar would’ve fallen through.

Soldier Boy was a bully. In fact, he could teach master classes in it. You didn’t think there was one good bone in his body. So far, you could count the times the guy had actually been nice to you on one hand – two fingers to be exact.

The first time had been the very first night you’d spent together in that rundown motel after he’d killed Crimson Countess. You took over the nightshift of babysitting while Hughie and Butcher took a snooze in the adjoining room. That night, Soldier Boy had shown you a glimpse of a human being.

“Well, currently, there are two working theories on time travel: The closed loop theory and the alternate timelines theory,” you’d explained after he had asked you how actual time travel worked. Most people gave up after a minute, but he had still been in it after five.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Well, lemme see…” Musingly, you had pursed your lips and thought for a moment. “Terminator came out in ‘83, right? You’ve seen it?”

His lips had slowly risen to a smile. “Yeah… Actually one of the last fucking movies I watched before the fucking Reds got me.”

“Right.” You’d nodded. “Still remember what happened?”

He’d scoffed and rolled his eyes a little. “I’m not that old…”

“Well, it’s been forty years since you’ve seen it…”

“Schwarzenegger comes from the future to kill that blonde chick,” he’d summarized with a cocky smirk that should’ve proven to you he wasn’t demented.

“Yeah, remember the soldier who came back to save her, too?”

“Oh. Yeah, that guy…” His nose had scrunched slightly. Of course he’d be rooting for the killing machine. “What about that fucking wimp?”

“The Terminator was supposed to kill Sarah because her yet-unborn son would defeat the robots in the future, but the soldier who came back to save her is actually the baby’s father.” There had been no way you could’ve explained it any simpler than that. “So, the Terminator actually created the circumstance, which made him go back in the first place. That’s a closed loop. Does that make sense?”

He’d nodded slowly, his brow creasing heavily in concentration. “Yeah, I think it fucking does…”

For hours, he’d asked you questions about your powers, and when he was through all of that, he even asked you about your life, what you did for work, and how you ended up here. And you’d figured he was trying to schmooze up to you to use you for his gain – or maybe he’d just been coming down from all the drugs he’d taken that day.

Either way, after what you’d seen the Russians do to him, you could understand why someone like him might want to turn back time and get a redo. The unpleasant images, the inhumane torture he’d endured, actually caused you to have sympathy for the supe.

For a second.

When you’d tried bringing it up and be his friend, he had quickly shot you down. He’d been an even bigger dick since then, as if the sheer thought of someone seeing his weaknesses scared him.

Yes, a little, gray mouse like you apparently fucking terrified the biggest and strongest elephant in this world.

Honestly, you didn’t know why the supe had insisted on your presence. Maybe he just needed the perfect victim to antagonize as he passed the time. Sometimes, you did feel like the new Black Noir of Payback.

There’d only been one other incident where he’d shown something remotely resembling kindness:

He’d complimented you.

A real, sweet compliment – and he’d actually meant it – and he hadn’t hit on you in the same breath.

One night, a few weeks ago, Annie and Frenchie had dragged everyone of you to a karaoke bar to “decompress.” Even Soldier Boy tagged along and seemed in somewhat good spirits all night – there’d been no heinous taunting, only the usual flirtatious teasing.

One of those flirtatious attempts had been a dare for you to sing.

“Oh, c’mon! One song,” he’d begged and shifted closer to you on the small leather sofa in the corner of the bar. “How about something from the fucking 80s? Like Cyndi Lauper! I’m sure you’d like that, huh?”

“What, you want me to sing ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’? Really? You?” You’d arched a brow at him.

He’d chuckled, and it’d been a sweet sound instead of a mocking one. “Hey, look, I’m all about the girls having some fucking fun,” he’d said coolly before a lick of his lips turned him a bit more serious, mysterious even. “How about something a little slower… Time After Time!” He’d grinned proudly and raised his expensive whiskey glass to your cheap beer. “That’s fucking perfect for you!”

And then you actually went on stage and sung. You weren’t a bad singer, either, but you were by far no Mariah. However, you could see Soldier Boy watching you intently the whole time with that strange look he sometimes carried whenever he was staring at you – something he did quite often.

In fact, he’d stared at you pretty intensely when he’d first walked out of his cryo-chamber, too. It gave you the creeps the same way that naked homeless man had once done in a subway after 1 AM. And then, he had fucking detonated, which had freaked you out so much you’d accidentally disappeared back to New York with a five minute time difference forward – the only time you’d actually managed to travel into the future.

But after your performance, Soldier Boy had passed you on your way down from the stage and intercepted you by placing a tentative hand on your arm.

“You have a really beautiful voice,” he’d said and even gifted you a small but genuine smile.

“Thank you.”

Sweetly, you’d even mirrored his smile after no other insults or advances followed. You’d been practically baffled. As you had glanced at him more carefully, though, you’d noticed something gleaming in his eyes, almost melancholic. You’d supposed after 104 years, he had probably been experiencing a ton of déjà vu.

“You okay there, gramps?” you’d checked with a bit of a teasing smile, and maybe that’d been your mistake.

“‘M fucking fine,” he’d huffed. He’d suddenly turned cold again, the hard lines on his freckled face crestfallen. He’d spun around, marched out of the bar, and ditched you there on the spot.

So, that was what you had done for the past few months – babysit Soldier Boy and keep the bomb from exploding. Which brought you back to this exact moment:

“What the fuck is wrong with you, huh? Seriously!” you snapped, feeling the fury overtaking you. “What the fuck happened in your life to turn you into such a miserable, toxic, overbearing, narcissistic, insufferable piece of shit?!”

“Insufferable?” He scoffed as if your words didn’t affect him, but you could see it was starting to get to him. “You’re the one who’s fucking insufferable, doll. Probably because you haven’t been fucked in a while by a real man.”

Exasperatedly, you gripped your temples. “Oh, it all trickles down to that, doesn’t it?” you deadpanned. “You sound like a fucking broken record, gramps!”

“Oh, you wanna fucking jump on me badly right now, don’t you?” he gritted through his pearly-white teeth, a challenging smirk playing on his plush lips as he leaned closer, his face only inches away from yours now.

“Please, it’s not gonna fucking make me like you more. Your dick’s not a magic eraser,” you bit sharply, your voice low and poisonous. “God knows you fucked your last girlfriend for years, and she still fucking hated you.”

Growling, he bristled, his jaw ticking. Mentioning Crimson Countess always hit a nerve. You knew as much.

“You’re just a drug-addicted loser with daddy issues. Nothing more, nothing less,” you nonetheless continued bitterly. “No one likes you! And believe me, asshole, I fucking hate you!”

As you looked up at him, you could tell he was close to exploding. Kimiko even desperately tugged on your arm to drag you out of the blast zone – not that it would’ve mattered.

“Butcher…”

Hughie’s panicked voice and wide eyes reached the Brit, who finally got out of his chair and slammed the paper on the desk.

“Oy, you two! Fucking stop it!”

And somehow, that had miraculously seemed to work. Soldier Boy managed to snap out of his temper tantrum, his breathing steadying, his smirk reappearing.

His lips twitched as he dipped his head and whispered into your ear, “You’re not fucking worth it.”

His thick fingers trailed up your hips before he grabbed your waist and pushed you closer to his body. You tried to shove him away, but this time he used his full strength on you to keep you caged.

“Get off of me!”

“Butcher!”

“Oy! What did I fucking tell you lot?!”

Kimiko tried to pull you away harder, but that only made Soldier Boy chuckle more.

“I said stop it! Get the fuck off of me!” you yelled louder, and he finally let go with a cunning laugh.

“Alright, you’ve had your bloody fun, mate. Why don’t you take a bit of a time-out now, huh?” It was the most Butcher could do as far as an intervention went. Everyone in the room knew Soldier Boy couldn’t be stopped.

“Fine,” the supe relented with a roll of his green eyes, but then his gaze landed back on you.

You hated to admit that he had gotten to you, but it was hard to deny when your whole body was trembling and tears stung your eyes.

“Fucking Christ on a cross, are you actually gonna fucking cry now?” Soldier Boy snorted condescendingly.

“Fuck you. Leave me alone,” you snapped with what little strength you had left and wiped the burning tears out of your eyes.

“Exactly why I said you’re fucking useless. This is the problem with women. Can’t even take a goddamn joke,” he ranted. The more he got to you, the more pleasure he took out of it. You could see it by the vicious twinkle in his eyes. “You keep talking how everyone hates me, but what about you, huh? You’ve got fucking no one, too. Your own fucking parents didn’t want you, and I don’t see an army of men lining up to take care of you, either.”

“Shut up!”

“Wanna know why? ‘Cause you’re a broken, useless, stupid, weak–“

“Stop it!”

But he didn’t. You couldn’t even hear the words properly anymore as they strung together into one explosion of abuse. Your vision blurred, and the ringing in your ears only got stronger.

“C’mon, fucking show me what you can do! Prove to me you’re not fucking useless! Do it!”

“I said fucking stop it!” you screamed loudly till he fell silent.

And then, poof. You were gone.

Soldier Boy blinked at the suddenly empty space before him. Knitting his brow, he shrugged your disappearance off only a second later and plopped down on the couch with an exhaustive groan.

“Fucking finally… Took her long enough,” he commented dryly and stretched out on the small two-seater, sighing blissfully.

“This isn’t fucking funny,” Hughie threw in, the anxious expression on his face only causing Soldier Boy to roll his eyes once more.

“Relax, squirt, she’ll be back,” the supe quipped, snickering. “Probably.”

“Y/N’s got PTSD, okay? She can’t control it,” Hughie argued, placing his hands on his hips in upset, his gaze scolding. “You know, you’d think you of all people would be a little more sympathetic to that.”

Soldier Boy’s eyes glowered darkly. “What the fuck are you talking about? I don’t have that shit. I told you.”

“You know, kid’s right,” Butcher chimed in, catching the ancient supe’s attention. “I’d be a little more worried if I were you.”

“Why? Not my fucking problem. And like I said, she’ll be fine,” he reiterated with a careless grumble.

“I’m sure you’re right, mate,” Butcher replied with a conniving smirk and a casualness that made the supe wary. “Let’s just hope our little Y/N doesn’t take your advice to heart about the proper use of her abilities. But if I were bloody you, I’d hope old-me watches me back.”

Soldier Boy snorted a laugh of amusement. “Oh, I’d like to see her try,” he replied arrogantly and stretched his spine with a yawn. “Well, anyways, I’m taking my fucking nap now. Just wake me when she gets back. I’m not fucking finished with her yet…”

Hughie and the others hurried around Butcher’s desk, their voices only whispers as not to disturb the grumpy supe, and the Brit knew by the worried looks on his team’s faces that he’d have to deal with this bloody problem now.

“Butcher, what are we gonna do?” Hughie asked, eyes still wide and kind heart surely beating a marathon on his sleeve.

“Yeah, how are we gonna get her back?” Annie agreed, calmer than her boyfriend, questioningly folding her arms and arching a brow.

“Mon dieu, what if she changes the timeline, Butcher? I don’t want to wake up speaking German,” Frenchie threw in.

“And I don’t want fucking slavery back,” MM added.

“Oy, calm down,” Butcher spoke with placating hands. “Y/N’s a smart girl. She knows more about this shite than anyone of you. I’m sure she’ll fucking figure it out.”

“What if she doesn’t, Butcher?” Annie pressed.

“Well, then, let’s hope worst she does is kill the snoring cunt over there.” Butcher smirked devilishly and gestured to Soldier Boy fast asleep on the couch as if he were hoping for that outcome. “God knows I’d be bloody fine with it.”

It took less than a second, a blink of an eye, but you felt it immediately, knew instantly what had happened as gravity itself stretched out its tentacles and wound them around your limbs, tearing and tugging until you ripped at the seams and atoms spilled out of you.

There was a stark drop in temperature – that was the first thing you’d noticed. Goosebumps formed within a beat on the bare skin of your arms, the biting cold making you not only shiver but fear for your life.

Please don’t be the Pleistocene... Death by saber-tooth? No, thank you.

But to your relief, you heard a strange, but familiar set of sounds around you – animated chatter, chiming bells and closing doors, and the occasional low rumble of a car. Your heart was pounding a furious and relentless rhythm in your ribcage as your eyes fluttered open and warily scanned your strange surroundings.

You’d landed on a street, your feet safely planted on a sidewalk. Glistening white snow covered the pavement in a thick veil, the sky a dull gray blanket above. Icicles hung from lampposts with patriotic banners flying in the chill, proclaiming messages to buy war bonds and save scrap metal.

Huh…

Powdered flakes swirled around you as a streetcar clattered past you on a cobbled street, the sound muffled by the snow. Storefronts and shops lined both sides of the road, shoppers bustling by you in coats, hats, and scarves. Your brow furrowed softly at the row of parked, snow-covered cars that looked a tad… old.

Oh no…

You had definitely traveled back a smidge, but luckily not as far as the Middle Ages again. Judging by the moderately busy street, you assumed you were at least still in New York City. A paperboy was shouting loudly further down, but you couldn’t understand him from the distance. The only word that was plastered everywhere was war.

World War I or World War II, maybe?

Wherever – or whenever – you were, you couldn’t get stuck here. Your short-lived fascination with your new environment was then quickly replaced by a rising panic in your throat.

You had to get home somehow.

Squeezing your eyes shut as tightly as you could, you tried to wish yourself back – unfortunately, you didn’t possess your pair of ruby slippers anymore that you could simply click. The more you tried and failed, the more anxious you became, and you knew a full-on panic attack was just waiting for you around the corner.

“Whoa! Hey, careful…”

With your hands on your knees, you bumped backwards into a man, your lungs constricting so much they barely let any air pass. You spun around, eyes wide and body trembling as a set of hands landed gently on your shoulders and waist for support.

“Miss? Are you alright?”

What little breath you had got caught in your throat as you stared into an all-too familiar set of outlandishly green eyes.

Soldier Boy.

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

It was a reflex at this point to slap his hands away and keep them as far from your body as possible. Of course the guy couldn’t leave you alone in any era.

Admittedly, he was hardly recognizable, though. While he was just as tall as his 21st century counterpart, he wasn’t as broad. Instead of the signature green outfit, he wore a long, black wool coat over a three-piece suit and a checkered flat cap. His hair was maybe an inch shorter, his beard replaced by a clean-shaven face. And while Soldier Boy surely didn’t look a 104, he didn’t look as young as the guy in front of you either. No furious lines from decades of anger management issues decorated his freckle-dusted face yet.

Maybe your reaction was ill-advised, considering the power he wielded. You figured any past version of the supe was even more ruthless than the current one you’d gotten to know. Moreover, you didn’t have the advantage of being spared because you had saved him from an ice box.

To your surprise, however, there was no detection of malice or offense on his features. To the contrary, he seemed strangely taken aback by your aggressive response, his hands swiftly shooting back as if your very skin was made out of scorching coals. They raised in surrender.

Surrender.

Well, that was new. He had never, ever, ever done that before. Did you land in some alternate timeline where Soldier Boy was a nice guy?

“I-I’m so sorry, miss. Please forgive me… I was just checking if you were okay,” he stammered and forced a reassuring smile, his hands still held high in good faith.

“Just stay away from me. Leave me alone, okay?”

You backed farther away from him, your eyes desperately flickering around for an exit. Your voice jittered in sync with your body before you bolted down the street and sought shelter in a dark and quiet alley.

“Miss! Wait!” he called after you, his hands picking something up in the snow that you’d dropped during your flight. “You’ve lost your–”

His brow furrowed as he twisted the thin, rectangular device in his hand, his thumb wiping bits of melting snowflakes off the sleek, black glass. As he glanced more closely at it, it lit up brightly and vibrated in his hold. He startled at the unexpected tremble, almost dropping it into a pool of mud by his shoes. Fuddled, his gaze lifted down the busy street in search of you.

“What the hell…”

▶️ Chapter 2: Is This the 40s? – APRIL 4

I think his curiosity is piqued lol... What did you think of his 1942 version vs. the, uhm, less nice future dickbag? 👀

Coming Up:

Ready to fend him off, you were surprised to find his grip wasn’t strong by any means. It was barely a brush before he dropped his hand again and looked at you remorsefully.

“I’m sorry! I just-… Please let me help you,” he reiterated with imploring green eyes. “Look, you clearly seem lost. Just tell me where you live, and I can get you home safely, okay? C’mon, you can’t do this to me.” He tried to loosen you up with a charming smile and a puppy dog look. “If you leave like this, I’m going to be up all night, worrying you’ve died of hypothermia out here.”

And my God, he seemed sincere! No wonder he had gotten attention from women like a goddamn bunny in a petting zoo.

Musingly, you then chewed on your lower lip and assessed the man in front of you. The people who strolled by you threw you the occasional weird looks – you’d chosen a bad day to wear a Led Zeppelin t-shirt and ripped jeans.

Admittedly, you could use a little help here. Maybe if you were being careful with the timeline – and him – you could risk it.

🚀 Read up to 4 chapters ahead on Patreon now

Tag List Pt 1.:

@alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@lori19 @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @yoobusgoobus @jessjad @dayhsdreaming

@hunter-or-the-hunted @k-slla @just-levyy @mrsjenniferwinchester @illicithallways

@muhahaha303 @ultimatecin73 @nancymcl @leigh70 @brightlilith

@nesnejwritings @samslvrgirl @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @fromcaintodean @barewithme02

@impala67rollingthroughtown @star-yawnznn @spnaquakindgdom @thej2report @americanvenom13

@lamentationsofalonelypotato @supernotnatural2005 @stoneyggirl2 @kr804573

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sunflowervoltwentyeight · 10 hours ago

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Happy 28th! Here is my March 2025 fic rec, organized by word count, from longest to shortest. You can view my other fic recs here. Enjoy!

Cupid's Defence by orphan_account (116k)

In which Harry is Cupid, Louis and Liam own a law firm, and they're all getting sued.

Blue Eyes Look My Way (Make Today My Lucky Day) by magpielivingforglitter / @builtyouahousefromabrokenhome (98k)

November 1968. Harry has to quit the Liverpool College of Art and go back home to Sheffield to work in the steel mill, after his step-dad died and left his family with debts and too many mouths to feed. But that also means Harry gets to catch his local ice hockey team’s games again. And the Sheffield Steelers have two new players who could turn the season around - maybe even Harry’s whole life …

I Can Feel It Take A Hold by louislittletomlintum / @louislittletomlintum (30k)

“Do you always swim in the nude?” Louis broke the silence, his smile growing when Harry felt his blush deepen.

“Sometimes,” Harry answered wearily, pushing his hair back in the hopes that it would maybe not look quite as dishevelled as it felt.

“Mm,” Louis hummed, cocking his head to the side like he didn’t quite believe him. Harry felt properly studied under his gaze. “And what was your plan?”

“My plan?” Harry countered. The water licked at Louis’ legs, darkening his hair and wetting the back of his shorts where he was sitting.

“Well. You were obviously wanting to get my attention,” Louis mused, Harry blushing further. “So what are you going to do with it now that you’ve got it?”

or the one where it’s call me by your name but with; developed frontal lobes, oranges instead of peaches, golden by harry styles, and a happy ending

Switch! by xunorthodox / @ @ltwritten (25k)

Focus, stop being ridiculous.

He didn't want to hurt Liam, especially when he was such a nice guy, but—but—his best friend, Louis, is so close yet so far. And Harry didn't know what to do with himself.

Harry happily agrees to go on a double date with Liam, but Liam’s best friend looks suspiciously like the man of his dreams.

If I Didn't Love You, It Would Be Fine by emmli28 / @emmli28 (18k)

When Louis was sober he could say no, even if his body, heart and mind craved Harry. After one glass of wine, on the other hand, he just didn’t want to say no, even if it left him in a complete state of misery for a week after.

Louis was in love with Harry, and had been since the first night they slept together three years ago. That was not how their story had started, though.

They had met when Harry had just finished his first year at uni, taking a course in photography, and he got a summer job at the magazine where Louis worked as a music journalist.

Or the one where Louis is miserably in love with Harry, and can never resist him, until he can.

Somersault by everysingleday / @sun-lt (4k)

“Got you something,” Louis whispers eventually. Something in Harry’s stomach fizzes; the idea of presents—especially surprise ones—has never failed to evoke somersault excitement in his belly. And though he never has any expectations, it’s certainly not uncommon for Louis to spoil him like this when he knows Harry’s had a rubbish sort of day. — Louis gets Harry presents. Harry’s contemplating getting Louis a ring

Louis' New Home by chaotic_bells / @chaotic-bells (2k)

There is a man in his back garden staring into his home. What the fuck...? -- Louis moves to a new house, and Harry keeps showing up on his back garden.

To Suffer by honey_beeing (1k)

Louis helps Harry undress after the wedding.

#28th appreciation #march fic rec #monthly fic rec #larry fic rec #fic rec #hlcreators #read

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shadowqnights · 3 days ago

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share the garroth playlist and my life is YOURS (and the reasonings behind some songs maybe 😀🙏)

OF COURSE I CAN! here's garroth's playlist that i do reorder and add to periodically but for the most part remains pretty firm! and is my favourite mcd playlist (i have multiple :3) - the vibes are there if shuffled but the playlist is in chronological order for the entirety of season one, but you'll probably enjoy it more with this context:

my playlists are closer to rewrite than canon and songs don't refer to garmau/laurmau as necessarily romantic! though some are about their relationships and dynamics + garrance is underlying context for many songs here. though you can interpret these any way you like, romantic garmau isn't the thought behind their additions!

in terms of some song explanations, i do have a couple of favourites - but i'll start with some placements first!

dvd menu to self (2020 remaster)- childhood/teenage years. self marks the point where garroth makes the decision to leave o'khasis! everything from there on out is chronological through phoenix drop - de selby 1 & always gold, however, are reflection songs that provide the bridge into the childhood years!

sunlight to that you are generally mark aph's arrival! and just as saint bernard leads into this chunk, saint bernard 2 leads into the second half of the playlist where garroth's moral code is beginning to degrade. there are multiple of 'reprises' in the playlist, but saint bernard is one of my favourites. there's also an always gold reprise & one for kiss me, son of god!

in my rewrite, the betrayal's pace slows and becomes more drawn out - hence why the mental degradation crumbles around saint bernard 2 (and there are hints beforehand) and is Officially triggered around heaven is here!

eight, holy the sea & beneath the brine are the reflective irene dimension songs! and from there is the epilogue/aftermath leading into season two! i'm uncertain if i'll create a new playlist for season two or just Add onto his seeing as je te laisserai des mots and vienna are my typical Conclusion songs for playlists. WE WILL SEE!

ANYWAY. SOME SONG YAPS.

the bug collector is lowkey the reason i wanted to make this post, its my favourite garroth song ever. i'll attach a lyric image - but each verse has a central bug - starting with a centipede, then a praying mantis, then a millipede. and we could argue that each bug represents a formulative person in garroth's life. the centipede, laurance, naked in the bedroom and representative of the present, where garroth is most paranoid - the praying mantis, a priest from a past life, zane. and the millipede, angry with a vengeance, zenix. important to note here the common tendency for people to struggle to tell the difference between a centipede and millipede and misnomer them as the other. the song closing with "try to prove that nothing's out to get you". everything wraps up so perfectly.

realising i've already written so much and i don't want to be annoying asf so i'm bundling the other songs up into a compilation i call dog mode and dog mode was made for garroth ro'meave. saint bernard is obvious but beyond that. i'm your man. crumbling relationship with aph/himself but can be taken for irene and/or laurance.

dogbird. garrance relationship turmoil / references to haunting ro'meave expectations. classic avoidant tactics.

dog. very straight-forward as the song suggests. garroth is a dog (though you can also say that the 'dog' is more of a haunting presence representative of o'khasis following him around until he has to confront that this IS him, but i digress. i flip between the two), as a teen he entertains fantasies of putting a violent end to his expectations but cannot follow through. so he sates himself with the thoughts.

and listen to all these songs + the playlist in whatever form you please if you would like it will make me happy if people enjoy or have any thoughts on any songs :3. or even song suggestions because like i said i do Add to this playlist based on suitability or sometimes just vibes :3!!!

#minecraft diaries #mcd #aphmau #garroth ro'meave #bee's buzzing

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magiclwritings · 1 hour ago

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He had to admit there hadn't been a rookie night like this in years and honestly, it wasn't awful. Aside from being attacked and the bruising starting on his face and body at that moment. He had to admit, this town was going to be the challenge he was looking for. He also understood why he'd been assigned here. That silent walk over allowed him to work out a lot of tonight's details. More so that he hadn't actually met whom he'd intended too and that miffed him more than he liked to admit. If there was one thing Flynn hated it was wasted time and effort. Though as he heard his new friend enter back into the room with him, he'd reconsidered what exactly wasteful meant.

His eyes danced on the different faces in the pictures once more before he turned to help his new found friend. "You're in luck actually." Flynn spoke in a smooth tone, his feet stopping just short of the couch and he bent in to look at what he had to work with. Definitely wasn't something he'd have picked up but it would work in a pinch. He doubted very much that the man across from him would mind considering the state of everything else in this place. It wasn't awful but you could tell there were very few activities taking place here past sleeping, eating and showering from the looks of it. Maybe that's why he wasn't shy at the bar. "I aced my field medic course in basic."

Flynn pulled out some antiseptic and gauze to start with. He sectioned off a few pieces and poured the liquid onto the pieces. "Don't jump." He told him as he took one of the squares in his hand and leaned in to press it on the two puncture marks. His brow furrowed feeling the holes again and he scoffed under his breath. Fuckin' piece of shit. He wiped again and again until he was happy with the lack of blood flow and dirt no longer in it. Flynn turned back and grabbed one of the wet pieces and another couple of the dry ones. "You can tell everyone a rabid squirrel tried to have it's way with you on your way home." He offered, slipping the piece with the solution on the puncture wounds first and then a couple of the dry ones on top. Flynn moved to take Dodger's hand and replaced his own but kept his finger tips atop the other's hands while he dug back in the box for some tape.

"Too much to wish for scissors, huh?" He asked, looking briefly over at Dodger before he slid his bottom row of teeth along the tape roll until he found it's beginning. The sound of the tape stretching free as the end wedged between Flynn's teeth and the freeing rip was one fluid motion. He bared his teeth more as he fought to keep everything in place and fumble the tape onto it's desired spot. Once he was somewhat happy with it at least holding the wad of gauze he went back for a second piece of tape. This time the attempt was much better not having to use his damn mouth to get it free this time. Flynn was careful when he applied pressure, ensuring that the piece of tape would hold he bandage.

"You really had no idea?" He finally asked after a moment. It seemed redundant after his mini freak out back at the bar but a part of Flynn had always lived for the innocence that humanity had always presented. It was the only real reason he was still doing this after all these years. It couldn't all be for naught. That just had never sat right with him and if there was still a wonder in humanity, an innocence that could still be, well, that was worth all of it to him then. "I guess I really do have my work cut out for me here then, huh?" He knew that making light of this was not going to help but the awestuck was still strong in his senses and honestly, he just wanted a reason for Dodger to speak again. If for no other reason than he just wanted to hear his voice. A human connection. Fuck.

“I-” Dodger snapped his lips closed, eyes scanning Flynn’s face and body. There wasn’t a scratch on him. So, slayers had supernatural healing abilities along with their strength. Good to know. “You hear things…living here,” He explained, crossing his arms over his chest because humans did that when they needed comfort, almost like it was a hug. “People going missing, some turning up dead, but that happens everywhere.” Dodger reached forward, clasping Flynn’s hand and allowing himself to be pulled up to his feet. “And I thought the whole vampire vibe thing this club has going on was people playing pretend.” He snorted, shaking his head, wiping his hands on his jeans. “I thought it was like a weird kink club. Not that I have that kind of kink or anything. I just thought it was something new and could be fun. I mean, I did meet you here.”

Dodger followed Flynn towards the door, side-stepping the vampire on the ground. “Earlier,” he said, pausing to glance back at Cain. “he called you a slayer?” Dodger’s brow furrowed as if tasting the word on the tip of his tongue for the first time. “Are you like a professional monster hunter or something? What does that mean? Sorry,” his fingers brushed the blonde hair back from his forehead, fingertips pressed to his temple. “This is just a lot, and I mean, I had my tongue down your throat like ten minutes ago, and now monsters are real and…and…” He heaved a heavy breath, “We were attacked. I mean, that fucker bit me.” His eyes widened, and his knees buckled. Dodger reached out for Flynn, catching the man’s arm to steady himself. “Am I going to turn into one?”

“You’re right,” Dodger said, meeting Flynn’s gaze again. He kept his grip on the man’s arm, pushing up against his side. “We should get out of here before more come and find us.” His hand slid down Flynn’s arms until their palms met; Dodger twined his fingers with Flynn’s, squeezing them lightly. “They’re looking for you. That’s what he said, right? Maybe you should return to mine until you know wherever you’re staying is safe enough for you to return.”

Plus, you know, Dodger had sun-canceling windows so he wouldn’t explode when the sun rose.

He didn’t give Flynn much of a chance to disagree. Dodger pulled him from the room, down the steps, and through the club. He kept a firm grip on the slayer as bodies pressed against them, threatening to separate them. As they crossed the bar, Dodger felt a gaze on him. He turned his head, seeing Darian leaning against the bar's edge. It was rare to see him at the club. He despised crowds, and the club was Dodger’s domain, a gift given to him to run as he pleased. But Darian knew the slayer was coming here. He probably wanted to size up his most significant threat. He didn’t account for how Darian’s eyes on Flynn made Dodger feel threatened. This was his toy, his prize. He wanted to unravel the slayer himself. At the end of this, Dodger wanted to be Flynn’s biggest threat, not Darian.

He tore his gaze away from his sire and looked ahead. The entrance was nearby. He pulled Flynn towards it, and then the night air surrounding them.

It didn’t take long to get to Dodger’s apartment. It was a few blocks away, and they walked it in silence. Dodger conveniently stumbling along when he remembered he was supposed to be an injured human woozy from blood loss and traumatized by the revelation that vampires were real. Darian owned the apartment building but didn’t live there. He preferred to stay in the penthouse of one of the business buildings he owned. The apartment building had eight floors, and the top floor was his penthouse after they had knocked down all the apartments' walls to form one big one for him. But he had a smaller, one-bedroom apartment on the fifth floor for when he had visitors over. A decoy apartment resembling a regular twenty-something-year-old had lived there for years. He led Flynn to the fifth floor, unlocked the door, and beckoned him in. “Home sweet home,” He said as he walked into the apartment from Flynn. “It’s not much, but it’s home.” Dodger slipped out of his jacket, hanging it on the coat rack. “I’m going to go get the first aid kit.”

He left Flynn in the living room and went to the bathroom, grabbing the kit before returning quietly to see the slayer looking at his stuff, specifically a handful of Polaroid pictures of Dodger and his 'friends' tacked up by his desk. "Do you mind helping me clean up?" he paused, gesturing to his neck as he set the first aid kit on the coffee table and then sat on the couch. "This mess?"

#Honey are you coming?;#Dodger;

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ppystkposts · 3 months ago

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(feel free to ignore c;) dear funny, beautiful and talented human bean, Happy New Year <3 hope it'll bring you lots of happy, productive and as stressless as possible moments. sending virtual muwah catch this sketchy puppy...pipi... ppy...

WHAT DO YOU MEAN IGNORE AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

THIS IS ADORABLE, CUTE, SWEET, PRETTY, EVERYTHING 😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

THANK YOU SO SO MUCH, VAL. IM REALLY AM SO HAPPY AND GRATEFUL 😢🥺🥺🥺🥺❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

I wish you a peaceful and beautiful 2025 ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

#THANK YOU #saving this inside my heart #Happy new year #presente pra gappy #ppyoc

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exhaustedcatte · 1 year ago

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Detention, boys!

“–pair of troublemakers, they are,” Pomona Sprout wailed. “I know it was them, but there’s no way to prove it.”

Minerva, who’d just walked in, already knew who the offending duo could be. “Potter and Black?”

“Potter and Black,” she confirmed. “Charmed all of my Mandrakes to sing! Sing! Can you believe it?!”

A smile unwillingly pulled on the Gryffindor House-head’s mouth.

“What did they sing?” Professor Sinistra asked curiously.

Pomona ducked, shy. “I didn’t recognize the song, but Ms Bones said it was a muggle band called—ehem.” She cleared her throat and whispered, “The Sex Pistols.”

Minerva suppressed a loud guffaw, forced it back down her throat, and allowed a small grimace. Sinistra had no objections, laughing cheerfully.

“I bet you that was all Lupin,” she said, still grinning. “I’ve heard him giving gospels on muggle music with such ardor, you’d have thought he was being paid to advertise.”

Minerva didn’t know muggle music, but she knew her boys. This prank definitely had their signature on it, not just the handle on magic, but the careless display of talent.

Charming those noisy crybaby Mandrakes was no easy feat.

“I’ll hand out detention for the weekend,” Minerva said easily. “Potter and Black for the frontline work, Lupin for definitely pointing them towards the charms and Pettigrew for stealing all of your Mandrakes,” she raised her brows.

Pomona sighed, smiling.

The thing was, it was easy to detain them for smaller, localised pranks. It had their magical imprint all over it. While they had stepped into juvenile delinquency and thrown dung bombs, most of their practical jokes were, well, practical. Neatly studied and practiced. Difficult charms and jinxes. Hexes that Minerva had almost forgotten about since her own school days.

They’d made the suit of armours duel outside the Defence classroom, transfigured every single notebook in their class into origami birds, charmed it to fly away and got them all let off class. Hexed the Slytherins to speak in haikus for two full days. They’d also frozen the Lake into an ice rink in the cusp of summer post-exams. Pranks against which Finite Incantatem were useless. They put a lot of effort into their jokes, which somehow turned out just as remarkable as their neglected schoolwork.

But she’d given them many cauldrons and trophies and broom closets to clean for all of those, because she knew only they could be responsible for such intelligent tomfoolery.

What was difficult to pin on them was larger, vastly spread magic, because their trace was faint when it was distributed wide, mingling with everyone else’s magic. In theory she would put all her money on it being the Marauders, but she couldn’t simply accuse them when no one had seen them out of bed, no misbehaving, nothing. Very mystifying.

Which was why she was effectively silenced when she walked into the Great Hall on Tuesday. Everything seemed fine at first, but then she noticed, after hearing the excited tittering.

The Slytherins were emerald green. Minerva almost marched down to the quartet – the rivalry was telling. But she glanced around and saw the Hufflepuffs drenched in yellow. The Ravenclaws and Gryffindors were not spared either, dyed in their own house colours.

Minerva peered down her table. The other professors were trying to puzzle out how this had been achieved. She was silently proud that they kept glancing at the four boys on the far end, as if trying to read the answer straight from their brains. They knew no one else was capable of such advanced magic while still being playful.

Minerva looked over to them.

The Marauders were maintaining a strong air of ignorance despite the obvious looks being thrown their way from students and teachers alike.

Remus was stirring his likely fourth sugar into his tea, while Sirius kept nibbling the untouched toast from his friend’s hand. James was roughing his hair up and laughing at something Peter was whispering into his ear. They were also painted a vibrant red, probably as an alibi.

“I know it’s them,” Dumbledore said lowly, eyes dancing with mirth. “But I do think it’s rather spectacular, don’t you agree, professor?”

She huffed a laugh. “Yes.”

It was hard to tack this on them, not when Potter and Black, who despite knowing magic straight out of the womb, would vehemently deny everything and call it a fluke of someone’s luck. Not when Lupin, a severely clever werewolf who often downplayed his own intellect, would disagree politely and be off in that quiet way of his. Not when Pettigrew, the most unassuming and yet the sneakiest of them all, would lie impressively through his teeth.

She sat back and sipped her tea, enjoying the humorous sight of the bright morning sun reflecting off of the colourful skins of her students. But mostly she was observing her band of troublemakers.

They were still hanging off of each other’s shoulders like limpets, clingy and supremely codependent, in the best possible way. She watched Sirius proof-read a parchment Peter had given him. Remus was feeding James his scones and cream, who was trying, futilely, to tame his hair with a bottle of Fleamont’s Hair Gel that had just arrived with the owls.

These idiot boys, she thought fondly.

There would be no way to prove it was them other than their excited footsteps and victorious laughter that echoed through her office later that day.

Minerva McGonagall stepped into the hallway, unable to tamp down the pride in her voice when she called out, “Detention, boys!”

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call-me-copycat · 3 months ago

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Hello! Hope you're well!!

Ahh, I'm sorry for the late answer! I saw this the day you sent it but I didn't have any energy left in me due to work (·︿· `)

Thank you thank you thank you! I look forward to enjoying MHA and Aizawa with you all next year too! And hopefully the year after that! And so on ( ˶>ᴗ<˶)

Thank you for being my friend! I adore every comment and tag I get to read from you, I appreciate you very much! (´∇｀)

As a thank you, I drew this for you!

Wishing you well! Happy 2025! ヽ(。ゝω・)ノ☆

୨୧┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈୨୧

Extras for those interested:

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gilgil-machine · 3 months ago

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HE FINALLY CAME!!!😭😭😭

My king, my supreme commander🫡😚💕

#best new year present ever! thank you my king😚💕#I was honestly really worried that he would be lost somewhere considering the whole chaos near Christmas and new year #but he came! and I'm very happy🥰#best way to end kind of a bad year and start new one #I count it as a good sign😌#personal

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sopekooks · 2 years ago

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“where flowers bloom, so does hope.”

happy birthday @huhfeatjhope ♡︎

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httpsh3 · 3 months ago

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happy new years eve i hope 2025 will be less horrendoues than 2024 has been

#not furby but you guys are included #furby #furblr #new year #AHAGSGG #got this furby boom for my sister for her birthday present #furby boom #happy new year

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daylily-diary · 3 months ago

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Ur my wishlist, looking at u got me thinkin’ Christmas 🤭❄️🎀

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silveredsticks · 3 months ago

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christmas eve ramble tags and some pictures of me and nice things from this year that i have randomly at 2:47am on christmas eve decided to post on tumblr. like why am I posting my face idek but I just felt reflective and i always just dump my rambles on whichever blog I'm using the most 🙈 i have not thought very hard about picking these. my motivation is that i want to force myself into acknowledging that for the majority of this year i felt good. I did good things for my health, and at work, and for my friends and family (even though I am desperate always to tell myself that i have never done anything good for anyone ever.) I found a new fun thing & lovely kind fun people to help me explore it. i got to sleep with my hand on/in Henry (cat not popstar) belly fur. yes i started having panic attacks about stuff to do w my dad, and money is tight (i mean i live in syd..) and i miss my mum and sara and i maybeee spent far too much time speaking to my ex fiance until he went on some rant about family law and I got the ick for once and for all lmao - but i was happy on many occasions.

#so we're doing Christmas tomorrow on Christmas Eve #well its 2.30am so we're doing Christmas today on Christmas Eve #ive been up late making Cypriot Grain Salad and freezing packs of scallops #no not a strange chrissie tradition just the fish place i ordered from listed them as $3.50 each so i ordered 12 just as a little two bite #mouthful each along w the oysters #and they sent 12 packs of 6 #which do NOT cost 3.50 each #i actually feel a bit bad #anyway i froze most of them #we didn't do a tree this year #i think last year i did the tree and needed to needed the connection to mum #but this year when i mentioned it to Imi she sighed. and its no fun on your own #so i bought a lovely Christmas Bush and ive twisted those wire fairy lights around it and some little icicle tinsel #i need to sleep for a few hours and then get up and tidy the balcony and vacuum and clean the toilet and wrap presents #can you imagine if i had been able to have kids i am so last minute its awful #oh and a friwnd who had a horrid miscarriage #sorry they are all horrid #but shes pregnant and thats really great news #and my dad was nice to me today when we talked #also i took an extra week of leave off so now im having a month #which is so nice #im going to finish two fics #send cards and parcels to ao many people #i have replies from when my mum died ive still not done #im going to clean out the grarage #im going to swim everyday and try my harsest not to get burnt #okay maybe every second day #summer!#iveet stuff w my dad take away my happiness i had for the first half of the year - also mourning Sara #but i feel a bit more in control and im going to lean in to being proud of what i achieved this year and in finding new joy

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hoodedscarlet · 8 months ago

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Title: breathe into me (fall into you) Fandom: Overwatch Rating: Explicit Ship: Cole Cassidy/Gabriel Reyes Tags: Canon Compliant, Reunion Sex, Drug Use, Drugged Sex, Masks, Monster!Gabriel Reyes, Light Pet Play Themes WC: 3,238 Read on AO3 here

-x-

Cassidy had never given up on Gabriel being alive. Never meant he was prepared for coming face to face with the ghost of him, let alone in a backwater town in the middle of nowhere.

Luckily, the two of them are more than happy to fall into old, hedonistic vices to soothe the pains of their reunion - with a little help, of course.

Considering how many years it'd been since he’d walked through the door, it was surprising how little this backwater safe house had been touched by the passage of time. Cassidy ran a hand over the countertop; the drag marks left on the counter made the layer of dust over every surface in the room even more striking. From the tops of the cabinets bolted higglety-pigglety to the wall, to the linens left wrinkled on the beds. Just moving through the room alone had kicked up a not-insubstantial amount into the air; not for the first time tonight he was thankful for the serape around his face.

The other was right in front of him - for a man dressed in leathers slinking about like a harbinger of death, it was some sort of whiplash to see Reaper- No, Reyes leaning over one of the beds to push open the window. Realising that was the connection he’d been missing all these years was still taking it’s sweet time to sink in.

He'd thought the man dead, for fuck's sake- (-no. No he didn't. Some sorry part of him had always stuck on the missing body after the Zurich explosion. Worried at the way things didn't add up like a hangnail as he sought out the answer in the bottom of his glass. Gabriel fucking Reyes didn't just disappear, there had to be something he was missing, there had to be, there had to be-) "Can you think any louder, Cassidy?" Cassidy was pretty sure he could hear the snap in the air as he came back to himself - if the tilt of Reyes head in return was anything to go by, he wasn't the only one aware of it. He shrugged it off, offering a winning grin in return.

"What can I say, boss? Thought you were dead - and gotta say, you got some real pep for a corpse." A beat of silence passed between them, ringing with all the volume of a gunshot. For anybody else it'd be understandable - for Gabe Reyes? A man who could volley banter whether it was on base on Christmas, under fire in Venice, on stakeout in the deep South? The silence now spoke volumes by comparison.

"I'm not your boss anymore, Cassidy." He said, eventually.

“Sure you are. What’s a few years, a faked death, a lost arm-“ he flopped onto one of the cots, hold up his prosthetic and wiggling his fingers to make a point “-and you tryin’ to kill me, all between pals?”

“I wasn’t trying to kill you.”

“Could’ve fooled me, partner. Or did you forget the whole point of spread shots are that they spread?-”

“Cass.” The bite of his name on Reyes’ tongue is sharp, cutting through the rest of his train of thought. Cassidy fell silent in an instant – how could he not? Years of falling into line at his commander’s word didn’t just evaporate. Unlike then, though, Cassidy’s eyes caught more. Like how it seemed to pain the other man to raise his voice like that; how pain in general seemed to rest in his joints. Cassidy knew the feeling – whiskey was a medicine as much as an indulgence, these days – but it was more acute in Reyes body.

….Christ, he needed to change this line of thought before he got called out for thinking too damn loud again. And fast. Not like Reyes was helping with that – with that overdramatic skull-owl mask on, he could read the man even less than before. …Though.

"Well, do I at least get to see your face?" Cassidy said, changing the angle of attack instead as Reyes settled on the other cot. “Y’know, that’s the whole thing about masks. Could be talkin’ to just about anybody right now. And I mean, it’d take a whole lotta dedication to get down the voice, and the talk about you do, and Christ, don’t get me started on the whole everything you’re wearing. But got no proof to the contrary right now. “

The way that Reyes looked him up, down, and then sighed said everything he needed to know. If he was a wise man, Cassidy would of left it there… But god, he had so many questions. And if there was any time to poke the sleeping bear, it’d be now right?

“What’re you huffing for? I’m right, ain’t I? Hell, if I remember right, that’s something you had stamped into the ol’ brain matter before I even came outta basic. Don’t trust nobody at face value – and well, if I can’t see your face? Well, that speaks for itself.”

He could see the way Reyes hissed in a breath, like he was resisting the urge to snap back. (Good.) What he wasn’t expecting though was the almost too-calm way that the man gathered himself together. “….Fine.”

And before Cassidy could consider what the fuck this meant, Reyes was reaching up to his face. Broad fingers felt back under the hood with the dexterity of a motion done a thousand times. The hiss is more startling - was that thing mechanical? He’d hear the sound a hundred times working alongside Genji, but in the same breath as Reyes was altogether more strange. Stranger too was the there-and-gone scent of something saccharine sweet.

But everything about where they are, what’s going on? All momentarily forgotten as finally the mask is lifted up and away - and oh. Oh. Cassidy’s heart stuttered in his chest, forgetting it's job for a moment as he looked upon the unfamiliar, achingly knowable face of a man who’d haunted him for years. There were differences now – god, were there differences - skin gone pallid, the muscle around his mouth scarred in a Glasgow upturn. His eyes were particularly striking; gone were the warm browns like freshly made coffee, instead struck through with a red like blood. There was familiarity to be found too, though – the same cut of his jaw, the cut of his goatee. And of course because it was Gabriel Reyes, who never did anything clearcut, there was something that felt both old and new as well. Long curls fell past his face as Gabriel pulled his hood back, fingers ran carefully through them as they settled on his shoulders. They suited him, Cassidy thought, a quiet little remark to himself alone.

"Surprise." Gabriel said, through slightly too-sharp teeth.

Now Cassidy could see his face, it was easier to see how much this affected Gabriel – the little crease in his brow, the way his gaze into Cassidy’s own was just a little too even. Gabriel didn’t do nervous – nerves got a man killed. There were few other words, though, for the emotion that twitched at the corners of the older man’s mouth. Time to break the ice, then.

"Shit, Moira really did a number on you, huh?" Cassidy cracked, eyes glinting. As he’d hoped, Gabriel snorted, shaking his head in disbelief.

"This isn't all her fault." A pointed raise of the eyebrow from Cassidy made Gabriel's lip quirk. "Alright, smart ass. More than you'd like it to be. But I'm alive."

"That you are," Cassidy replied. “It’s a good look on you.” That gets a smile that crinkles the corner of Gabriel’s eyes – and makes Cassidy’s own heart go double step.

“First time I’ve heard that one in a while.”

“Good to know the folk around you don’t have eyes. Or taste.” It’s something dangerously close to flirtation, spilling from his lips unbidden. For this, Gabriel kept a frustratingly good poker face. (Of course.)

Tearing his eyes away from Gabriel's face for the moment, his eyes settled on the damn mask instead – first as a curiosity, but then closer. From the outside it was easy to dismiss the piece as a fashion statement - this was Gabriel Reyes he was considering after all, the man who saw Halloween as a competitive sport. But being able to see the inside of the mask? It revealed the complex snaking of metal and tubes that coated the inside.

"All that ain't just for show, then?" He asked, gesturing at it. Gabriel's eyes follow Cassidy's hand, flicking over the internal components in the same way he'd once poured over mission plans. Dangerously quick, even now – he wouldn’t expect anything less from the commander.

"Well, like you said cowboy - Moira did 'a number' on me.” Gabriel made lazy bunny ears with one hand, before letting it flop to the bed again. “There's better and worse ways to deal with the pain of all this - don't get the fun side effects of these drugs, but it keeps me on my feet."

"Side effects, you say?"

He's been got hook, line and sinker, Cassidy can already tell - when Gabe's eyes flick to his they seem almost luminous in the low light, the red gleaming with a flash of teeth. Suddenly he feels ten years younger – back at a time where all it’d take was a look to have him raring to go. Even now he can feel the heat flaring in his gut like a match against a strike board.

Gabriel always was his weakness. What’s new?

"Sure. If you haven't got my metabolism, it'd only take a puff or two to get you high, guapo. Better than any weed you could get your hands on." There’re insinuations there - Cassidy knows they remember as well as each other the way work would give way to the ease of each other’s company in the wee hours of the night. A joint passed between them, the thrill of playing chicken with touches and looks. And oh, when it turned to petting? Turned to rutting slow and easy? It was electric to chase the taste of smoke on Gabriel's tongue, not being sure if it was the drugs or the other man's touch that was making his skin prickle more.

He knows he shouldn't follow this thought - he had too many questions, too much unjust anger for the disappearance of this man who was never his - and yet skin hunger has haunted him almost as long as Gabriel has. (Cassidy is many things – but above all, he is only human.)

"That a theory, or an offer?" Cassidy drawled, eyes flicking up and down Gabriel's body in a way he never would of chanced back in Blackwatch. Instead of a reply, Gabriel picked up the mask, holding it out in front of him like a golden ticket. The way his eyes darked while doing it though? It perhaps betrayed how benevolent Gabriel was really being with all of this.

"Hold it to your face. I think you can figure it out from there, pup." Gabriel's voice was already dipping lower, scratching rough around the edges in a way that sent heat down Cassidy’s spine. He knew he should think this through more – for fuck’s sake, he didn’t know what the drug inside those pipes would do to him. It didn’t stop him though from lifting the mask to his face, peripherals going dark as it enclosed his sightlines. Quickly he felt the mask's edges conforming to his face - nanites? Bio responsive rubber? He couldn't find it in himself to care - especially as he realised how intensely Gabriel was watching him at this moment. Red eyes, bright and so vividly hungry. It was more than enough inspiration to lock eyes with Gabriel through the mask - and take one long, deep breath.

He could hear it happen; some unseen catch clicking open, gas hissing through the pipes he’d seen only moments before, and the smoke flooding into his mouth, sweet and damning. It was quickly drawn over his tongue, down into his throat like the most wicked of nicotine – the taste of it is something he ants to chase on its’ own. There's a sweetness to it, saccharine and inviting, but something else to it too. A crispness bordering on the medicinal without going too far, almost mint-like in flavor.

It’s distracting enough he doesn’t notice the first effects straight away - his shoulders catching from around his ears, him sinking just a bit into the cot underneath him. The tension of the reunion seemed to seep out with each passing moment of this drug seeping into his veins. And oh, wasn’t this all dangerous?

Without realising it, Cassidy found himself breathing deeper, deeper, like he could get the smoke to curl around the depths of his lungs and live there. It’d be worth it to see that look perpetually live on Gabriel’s face – mouth slightly open, eyes laser focused. Gabe had always had a look that felt like it stripped him back and lay him bare. Once it'd made Cassidy nervous in a way few things could. Now it just made his legs fall open as he finally exhaled, drawing the mask off to breathe out the plume towards the ceiling.

When he tried to hand back the mask though, Gabriel's eyes seemed to pin him where he sat..

"Actually, I think you can do that again. Can't you, Cass?"

Suddenly he's oh so aware of the weight of the mask in his hand, the weight of the gaze that sat on him like it'd never left, the weight of his hardening cock against his thigh. With a mouth gone dry he couldn't help but nod.

"...Yes, sir."

"Good boy."

And oh, the praise hit him like a shot of liquor – and he could see Gabriel knew it. Cassidy couldn’t bring himself to care though - not when his world has narrowed to him, Gabe and the mask in his hand weighed like a promise. With anticipation as potent of a drug as whatever the hell Gabe was having him breathe, Cassidy lifted the mask to his face again. Once again, the rubber latched to his face, once again he breathed deep of the sweet smoke. This time, he could almost feel the way that the smoke seeped in between his muscle fibers, how it curled in his temples to make his vision swim. His exhale came alongside a soft groan, teeth dragging over his lower lip as he tried to center himself within this heady, sudden high.

"Good?" Cassidy goaded after a few moments, smile wide and cheeky. The high was intense, but pleasant. If this was any other time, any other situation, this is when he would have put down the blunt and sunk into the couch for a while to contemplate his thoughts and how they flickered individually by. Gabriel didn’t look even close to finished with him, though.

"Not yet," the older man replied - Cassidy realised with a start that Gabriel's fingers were flexing in and out of the blanket on the cot he say on, the claws of his gloves have cut neat little holes into the wool. It was as if he’d needed to cut into the blanket to stop doing the same to Cassidy – and oh, wasn’t that an intoxicating thought all on its own? He couldn't help but imagine feel the cool metal along his skin, thumbing at his lips to part them, curling around his neck to squeeze. "Go on. Another one."

Cassidy couldn't help it - he whimpered as he brought the mask up to his face once more. It felt like it wasn't even his hand moving it, anymore - like he couldn't stop himself if he tried, like it wasn’t really him who had decided to flood his lungs once more with smoke. And oh, this time he could feel how it all went straight to his cock, making it flex and ache against his zipper as the drug dragged him down, down, down. His mouth felt so unfairly empty, his pants too tight-

-Which was a problem only made worse as he felt another hand on top of his, holding the mask to his face with force. Cassidy’s sharp inhale from shock was done straight into the mask too, making his head spin all the more as time seemed to stretch and twist out before him. When had he been pushed back onto the cot? When had his shoulders hit the blankets? All that he knew for sure was that the look on Gabe's face was positively predatory.

He knew there was no way for the other man to see that shock scrawled onto his face, how it melted into helpless arousal as Gabe straddled his hips. The triumphant grin on the other man’s face though as their hard cocks pressed together through leather and denim though? Oh, that made Cassidy more than convinced that Gabriel knew exactly the effect he was having.

"Again."

With his limbs like rubber Cassidy couldn't help but obey, pulling the smoke into his lungs like it was a lifeline. The way he rutted up against Gabriel was purely instinctual at this point - though trying to stop himself from rolling his hips up over and over was as futile as trying to stop the ocean's tides. Each moan came easier than the one before as his finger buried themselves into Gabriel’s thighs. With each breath the world became a bit more liquid, time seeming to stretch and twist like taffy as his arousal swallowed any higher brain function he had left.

Cassidy wasn't sure when his pants came off. He'd felt the scratch of Gabriel's claws against his thighs - he'd taken his gloves off, right? Maybe it was the drugs, but the face in front of him seem to warp - when the mask was lifted off Cassidy's face he swore Gabriel’s had shifted, the scarring at the other man’s mouth splitting open to reveal teeth stretching impossibly back. And was that one pair of eyes or two? Maybe even three, splitting the skin of his face and nestling in his hairline?

He should have cared more, should have forced himself to care more - but all he could bring himself to care about was if Gabriel wanted this. Wanted him with all the force that Cassidy wanted him in return. And oh, did the intensity of that gaze, the hands across his body speak to that desperately. When finally those fingers wrapped around his cock he couldn’t help but keen at the sensation of it all – god, was he already that close to the edge? The strokes were slow and steady, eased by his pre-come alone. Any attempt to look at the sight for himself though failed – his eyes were too hazy to focus on anything else but the glowing red of the gaze above him.

"There you go, Cassidy," and oh, Gabriel’s voice was wrecked – low and husky, scraped through in a way that made him throb. Lisped slightly as well – in his fucked-out state Cassidy couldn’t figure out if that was because of the jagged mess of teeth, or the long tongue he could see flicking out of the other man’s mouth. Whichever it was, it wasn’t stopping the filth that tumbled out of Gabriel’s mouth unbidden, thoughts that were only drilled further into his mind by the slow rock of Gabriel’s hips against his own.

“Been waiting such a long time to see you like this again. You look so good wrecked – I wish you could see yourself. Would keep you like this for days if I could – fuck your mouth until you craved it, made sure you never forgot the shape of me inside you. Fuck. Such a good fucking boy."

Cassidy couldn't stop his orgasm from crashing over him if he tried. -x- My Ko-Fi!

#ow fanfic #overwatch fanfic #mcreaper #mcreyes #reysidy #tfw you only just find out about the new ship name for your favorite blorbos #tbf its been like 5 years since i was active in the fandom #crawls out of my dark internet hole to present smut to the masses #its been like 5 years since ive posted fic so honestly as long as somebody enjoys it ill be happy lmao

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