#other characters are loosely called what the pov character would call them

[reitziluz]

"oh huh, usually getting my official business and chores done for the day energizes me to work on my projects. i wonder why my brain is all scrambled up and i feel both unmotivated and anxious like should be doing something?"

turns out migraine prevention meds have been working so well that i managed to forget how auras for big nasty ones feel lol

wanted to transfer the stuff i worked on during my trip from docs to the working file and start neatening things up but oop

fingers crossed it'll fully clear out before bedtime so i can at least start looking into how i want my tenses to work in the flashback

[bunnwich]

Cinnamon Sugar Kisses🍬(Happy Birthday Leona)

Leona's birthday always finds a way to bring him down, maybe a visit from his favorite creature might lighten the mood.

Characters: Leona Kingscholar x Yuu!Reader (GN. No physical description for Yuu. )

Words: 6k, 3rd person, Leona's POV

Notes: It's long, but I am really proud of this one. Leona is DOWN BAD in this. Deals with themes of depression and slight substance abuse.

Tagging: Moving tags to the comments!

--

Leona groaned, the sounds of the night an unpleasant cacophony in his ears as his body tangled in the blankets. The clatter of the blinds, the rushing of the waterfall down in the lounge, and the rumbling snores of the other Savanaclaw members. Riddled with envy, a soft growl passed his lips, tendrils of loose hair sticking to the sweat on his face. Climate-controlled; his ass. After stewing a bit longer on these grievances, he finally lamented to his restless mind. 

Accepting his fate this evening, he kicked off the covers.

His hand went for the familiar object stashed under his pillow. 11:47. The light of his phone screen seared into his vision. It was too damn early to be having so much trouble already.

Scoffing as he sat up fully, he bent his body over to fumble in the drawer of his nightstand until his fingers wrapped around what he was searching for. A small bottle of prescription pills. Right. He was only supposed to take one a night but, three…three had a much better chance of working.

He hadn’t even really taken them since the tournament, but his mind was on double time tonight to torment him. Leona eyed the clock again as if the inanimate object would care about his ire in the least.

“Hmph.”

11:50.

Soon, another birthday. 

He grunted in disgust. The empty family group texts, the gifts he didn’t need and definitely didn’t want. The forced grins of his peers and underclassmen that almost made him sick, all this racket for what? The solemn day of his birth? A whole country holding its breath, only to be immensely disappointed.

A day that arguably shouldn’t have happened. His parents had gotten it right the first time, right? He was well aware of the conditions of his birth…an accident ten years after his brother. He huffed at himself, and the pity party that brewed in his chest. So, what? Lots of people are born by accident.

It’s not that he didn't appreciate it, especially from the cuter underclassmen: Jack, Epel and even Ruggie. The whole Savanaclaw dorm was earnest enough. But…still there would remain that nasty feeling, nagging in his gut that made him wanna skip the whole song and dance altogether. 

His heavy eyes fell to the white pills that rolled around in his palm, before tossing one back into his throat, able to convince himself for just one extra. After all, he didn’t wanna be too groggy for the mandatory celebration tomorrow. 

He let out a little laugh to himself, the sound resonating off the walls of his room as he dumped the extras back inside the bottle. Cheers, to a life of just…existing, and joy…he had a whole lifetime ahead of him to do it more. He should feel grateful; lucky. But sometimes, it was hard to not sink comfortably into these thoughts of morbid existentialism.

Just as the dry pill rolled down his throat, a few raps sounded off at his door like magic. Fuck. He twisted the cap back on and tossed the bottle under his bed, he didn’t need another scolding from Ruggie. That or the guys were coming to wish him Happy Birthday at midnight again, he wasn’t really in the mood for visitors. “Come in.” He called out to the intruder, voice cracking. “What do you want? I’m-” 

When the door finally creaked open his back straightened and a laugh of relief rumbled from his lips. It wasn’t Ruggie or anyone from Savanclaw at all. Leona squinted, the effects of the pill from earlier making the room hazy around their face. He hadn’t even smelled them, that's how out of it he was. He tugged at his shirt to pull it down over his chest, still wearing the same brown tunic of his dorm uniform from earlier. He cleared his throat and smoothed his hair back from his face.

Yuu shrugged at his efforts to preen himself from the doorway, hair sweeping over their face and a loose tee hanging off their frame. 

“You.” Leona sounded off suspiciously. It felt like a strange dream but lucky for him, they were real and standing just a few feet away in their nightclothes. He didn't even know what to say. He hadn’t seen them in weeks. He had a strategy, after all, secretly hoping that that stupid little saying might be true. 

Distance…something…fonder… Well, it worked for him.

But, from what Ruggie had told him, Yuu was so wrapped up in the VDC rigamarole with Schoenheit, they had little time for much else. 

“Hn.” Three whole weeks of constipated feelings died inside his mouth and he grumbled at them. “What are ya doin’ here?” Leona blinked a few times, feeling the heaviness of his eyelids increase more than ever. He hoped his tone sounded better to them.

As usual, they weren't scared off or detoured by his sourness. The little beast only rolled their eyes at him and huffed as if he was inconveniencing them instead. There was that audacity he loved. 

Using their back to press the door closed, they finished shaking their head at him and dared to move inside his room. As they approached him near the bed, blue shadows from his potted palms danced over their soft, but stern face. So they intended to stay…at least for a while.

He let out a breath and swung his legs and tail over the side of the bed. All the while, the numbness in his chest began to flutter and unfreeze. Suddenly, he was aware of his heartbeat again.

“Um, it’s your birthday? Duh.” They shrugged and the crinkle of whatever was in their arms made his ears twitch.

He leaned forward to get a better look, rubbing one of his eyes before staring at the bundle in their arms. “Oh, right…” He muttered, acting like he had forgotten, “Though, you're a little early….” He gave them his best smirk, but it took more effort than usual to summon. 

Their mouth dropped open as their eyes glanced at the wooden clock on the wall.

11:58.

“Hmph.” This didn’t seem to phase them, propping a hand on their hip. The edge of their oversized shirt lifted to reveal their shorts underneath. “Guess I'll be your first.” They dangled the shiny bundle in the air between them. It was haphazardly covered in iridescent yellow wrapping paper and tied with some twine.

Leona shifted his gaze back to their coy face and he couldn’t help but smile at their usual bull-headed earnestness. He reached over and took the package from both their hands, his knuckles brushing against theirs. 

“Mmm, guess so.” He mused at their chosen words and just like that, his heart sped up. So, that thing was still working, they still had him in a vice grip. 

His first…

“Your hands are cold. You walk all the way here?” He inquired, running his finger over the small tag that dangled from the top. His name was scrawled in large, irregular handwriting along with a doodle of a frowning lion.

“Yes...how else would I get here?” They asked facetiously, adding an extra softness to their playful words. He could tell they felt sorry for him. Damn, did he look that bad? Despite their apparent pity, their face puckered into a cute little scowl, unable to hide their annoyance any longer. “Come on-” As they shook their head at him. “Just open it, okay?” They chuckled and their nose crinkled. 

Leona felt that fatal, bittersweet dip in his stomach that made him ill, and then…everything was fresh again. 

Damn, he was pathetic. Leona cleared his throat and unwrapped it slowly, smelling what it was before he saw it.

“Uh, i-it’s not much but…let’s just say, her highness hooked me up.”

He laughed at the mention of his sister-in-law, heart squeezing as he unveiled it in his lap. “Awe.” It was the smallest bag of baobab candy he’d ever fucking seen.

“But you know…I-I paid for it! I insisted, okay?” They tipped their chin in the air indignantly, poking a thumb into their chest. “Your sis, she just showed me the website basically. I ordered it online to be shipped here-” A little huff left Yuu’s mouth as they babbled on, before crossing their arms. “You like it? It’s your favorite, right?”

He looked down at the bag of candy in his lap, it was cute that they remembered cinnamon was his favorite. Just like at Vargus Camp when they sprinkled some over his cup of hot chocolate.

 “Yeah.” But, the thought of them working, only to spend money on him, made him feel…sick. But…he knew it made them feel good to do it on their own. It was good for em’ and it was…cute how worked up they were getting. At least, they thought of him.

Leona bit his lip, trying to conceal his smirk. “Thanks, really.” He knew it had to be expensive to get it sent from his country to the college. The fees themselves probably cost double what the damn candy was worth. He bit his tongue and resisted his body’s urge to move closer.

Nah.

Space… Distance, all that shit. That was safer. 

“You didn’t have to get me nothing.” He blurted out, halting the thoughts in his head, knowing they understood how much he appreciated them being here. “...But hey…If ya wanna pay tribute to me, I can think of some other ways too.” He jabbed, trying to urge some more fire from them.

Before he could blink they swatted him on the shoulder. “Cut it out…” They hissed, eyes scanning the room. What were they looking for? “Well, you’re welcome.” Their hand lingered on his shoulder instead of pulling away like he thought they might. The warmth of their fingers through his tank top, it’s all he could focus on in his sleepy haze. 

Meanwhile, they used their other hand to gesture over to his chess table. “Sooo, since I’m here. I thought maybe we could…play a game?”

He yawned at the mention, pushing some air past his teeth, looking up at them incredulously. “Tch, seriously? Chess at this hour? Ya sure it's not too boring for you?” He probably shouldn’t have added that, but his ego couldn’t help it. “You know…” His eyes drifted to their fingers, now tangled even more in the fabric of his shirt. “...If you wanted something else from me. All you have to do is ask, alright?” He said through a whisper, mesmerized by the subtle movements of their hand.

They seemed to take it better than he thought, brushing him off and still playing with his tunic. “Nope. Just a game, that’s all. “I just mi…uh-” The edge of their pouty lips curled into a smirk as they trailed off. 

His ears perked up.

“...Uh, u-unless you're too tired to take me on?“ 

“Mmm, never.” Leona snapped back, he could see the spark in their eyes. They were much more awake than him. Great Seven, what he would give for a little of that energy. He sighed as he stood slowly, stretching his arms over his head and pulling up his jeans. “Fine, if you have any chance of winning it’s gonna be when I’m dead tired like this, so-”

Their lashes fluttered, a bit of concern flashing in their eyes at his appearance, how noble. “Oh, I mean... You sure you’re up for it…?”

Leona rubbed his face, groaning in defeat. Without saying anything else, he sat down in one of the chairs by his chess table. White side, as always, and the pieces were scattered from a solo game he played earlier. He gestured to the chair across from him. “Just sit down. Come on, I’ll set the board.” --

He observed them intently as they popped another candy in their mouth. Their cheek was pressed against their knees as they eyed him back from across the board. “...What?”

Leona’s chair creaked against the floor as he leaned back some, folding his arms. A smirk tugged at the edge of his mouth. “So, what’s the verdict on my candy?”

“Mmm, it’s…not bad.” Their eyes drifted up and their lips pursed thoughtfully, sliding one of their pawns into defense against one of his knights. “Things taste better when they belong to other people you know.”

“Hm.” His smirk grew. “Is that so?” Leona had to admit, they had started out the game pretty strong. Must have absorbed something when he used to lecture them about chess openings. But, now they were falling off, the game sapping them of their vigor. Poor thing, he chuckled to himself hiding his smile as he watched them, watching him.

He knew they were just playing for his sake and he wasn’t sure if he was flattered or not. “My brother hates them.” Leona finally said, making his next move to draw the game out. Couldn’t be helped, he wanted to…look at them a little longer. 

“He says they’re...too spicy.” He chewed his lip. “You should taste the real deal though, sometimes the vendors in Sunrise City make ‘em fresh in front of you…” 

They rolled their eyes. “Pfft, well maybe he's just got bad taste.” They barely could get the words out, mouth full when they grinned. “That sounds nice.”

Leona shook his head, watching them pop in a few more pieces of the cinnamon candy, the seeds building up in one of their cheeks. “Maybe.” He remarked, his eyes widening as they kept going, stuffing their mouth full. “‘Ey now… You don’t chew the seeds up, remember?” He sighed, holding out his hand for them. “You’re supposed to spit 'em out when you're done.”

They looked at his open hand like he was insane, whites of their eyes visible. “Whaght? I didn’t vanna vee’ rude!”

Leona gestured again for them to spit, moving his open palm closer to their mouth. “And damn near choking to death is where you draw the line on being rude? This ain’t Pomfiore dorm, you can do whatever ya want here. I’ll allow it...as your gracious dorm leader.”

They made a face before spitting the now plain seeds into his palm. “Much obliged, your highness.”

He looked down and shook his head again, smothering the voice that told him to pop one of them in his mouth. Instead, he tossed the seeds in the trash a few feet away, rubbing his hand on his jeans. “Uh, it’s your move.”

Yuu rubbed their face, lids concealing half of their pretty eyes. “O-oh right...” They let out a breath, forehead wrinkling as they made their next move.

 Sloppy.

Leona tapped his chin, one side of his mouth going up at their stubbornness to continue. “Hmph.” He could tell how bored they were. He gazed down at the almost clear board and fiddled with his queen piece, reaching behind his neck to rub it. “Thanks, for…coming to’ see me tonight.” He looked at the clock, it was almost 1 in the morning now, “But, ya don’t have to stay if you're tired.” He tilted his head at them.

“Whaaaat? No, I’m not!” They dug their heels into their lie, tugging their sleep shirt over their legs. “Okay…yeah.” They confessed. “I guess this is making me a little tired but-”

Leona’s eyes trailed up the curve of their legs to their conflicted face, still squished against one of their knees. Their gaze bore into him with a rare doe-eyed stare that he was no match for. “...I wanna stay and finish the game. Okay?”

“Fine, then I’ll make this easy for ya.” He smirked, mating them with his queen piece. 

Yuu’s reaction was delayed, eyes scanning the board in disbelief. “Damn,” They grimaced. “Hey, I was actually trying there for a minute!” They cried, plopping the bag of candy in the center of the board, knocking over a few pieces. Twisting around, they pulled their phone from a pocket on their shorts. “Mmm, look!” They turned it around. “I’ve been practicing…when I have time. I’ll have you know I’m…uh- number 795 on the Night Raven College Board!”

Leona crossed his arms again, ears shifting toward them. “Hmph. I know, I could tell. You did...good there in the beginning. Just need to work on your midgame and-”

As he was going on they stood, snatching up the candy bag, knocking one of the pieces on the floor. They began pacing around his bed like a kitten looking for a sleeping spot, before plopping down where he had just been tossing and turning an hour ago.

They fiddled with the small bag of candy, before popping a fresh one between their red-stained lips. Laying back against the sheets, their shapely legs crossed as they wiggled their little feet. After a minute, their head slowly turned to him as they sucked on the seeds, the moon outside making all their bare skin glow. “Hm?” 

Oh right, he had stopped talking. “Hn, Nevermind.” He grumbled, waving his hand in the air. He stood too, and followed, getting a closer look at the creature who so bravely laid claim to his bed right now. His? Nah, more like a wild little beast passing by. He had always known they weren’t the type to be tamed.

He chuckled as he came up to the side of the bed and looked down at them. “C’mon. Go to sleep now. No need to hang ‘round here for my sake. My birthday’s nothin’ important…I’ll have enough people kissin’ my ass tomorrow and singing my praises. Go back to the Ramshackle where you belong.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, Lion.” Their features wrinkled indignantly as they only lifted their head to stuff more candy in their mouth, rolling it around behind their teeth. They flipped over to lay on their belly, kicking pointedly on one of his pillows as they spoke. “Oh, come on,” They propped their head on their elbows to glare at him. “You know you don’t want me to leave.”

“So?” He rolled his eyes, unsure of what game they were playing now. “Ain’t about me.” He snorted and worked his fingers on his temple and at the headache that was building behind his eyes.

“It is…your birthday.” They continued to roll the candy on their tongue and he was close enough to smell their saliva mixed with the cinnamon. “Do you…want me to stay?”

Leona blinked a few times, the purr of their words causing his ears to tingle. The pills were still not helping his twitterpated haze. “Course. Course, I do.” He sat down a safe distance near the end of the bed, still haunted by the sound of the candy in their mouth. “Tch. You should know that.” He turned his back to them.

After a moment, they sighed and crawled toward him. They crept up beside him like a timid little rabbit now, still laying on their belly, breaching his space until their bare arm was touching his. “How have you been?” They asked without missing a beat or lingering on any awkwardness that came before.

He had to laugh. There wasn’t much to tell. “Fine.” He said simply, it wasn’t a lie. “Don’t feel like a complete nuisance lately. And ya know…practice has been going pretty well. Everyone’s all fired up to do better in the summer, of course.” He sighed as his smirk faded.

“That’s good but-” They lifted their brows, a smile tugging at their mouth. “You’re fine?”

“Awe, don’t fret about me now… Wouldn’t say I’m worse. School’s got me in this troublesome therapy program, you know after…everything. So uh, it’s more like: I’m…treading water. Survivin’. I’ll be alright.” He looked away, the end of his tail tapping on the sheets. “Though I gotta say my birthday, you know…the concept of my existence ‘n all: my “place” in the world. All of that, always finds a way of…bringing me down a little.” 

He couldn’t see their face but he felt them shift, sitting up. A pair of legs appeared to dangle beside his. He figured he wouldn’t have to explain himself any further for them to understand. 

“I’m…sorry, Leona.”

“Don’t be, said I was fine.” He cleared his throat and looked down at them, now perched so diligently by his side. The warmth that kindled between both their arms felt…nice. Most of the skin-to-skin contact he received nowadays was from tumbling into club members during practice. “Can’t fix what you didn't break and all that.” He rubbed his face and peeked at them through his hand, watching them process his words. 

As usual, he wanted to know what they were thinking. Leona smiled, he may not know for sure but he could see it, the way their eyes watered up. He hated the idea of being pitied but...he’d like to think it was something more now after all they'd been through together. That they were now somebody to each other, both their lives altered in a way they couldn’t go back on. And that the way they looked at him, meant something more.

“I understand.” They said in a voice so quiet it made his ear shiver. “If…it’s any consolation next time you’re, I don’t know, pondering your existence? Just know, I’m glad that you exist. I’m glad that we met, Leona.”

“Oh, really?” That was it. His breath caught, and his heart pounded at the simple words. How cute, he could even see them nibble on their lip in the dark. He knew they meant it, but he couldn’t help himself. “...Awe well, I’m glad my 21 years of torment could bring some levity into your life. That I exist for your entertainment,” He bit his lip and snickered at their expression of disbelief.

Soon they laughed too, covering their mouth quickly to spit out the baobab seeds into their hand, then hurrying to put them on his nightstand. 

They butted their whole body against him when they came back and he gave in, letting their weight fall over him as they both cackled. 

“Shut up.” Yuu slapped his chest once, but he seized them easily, pinning their arms to their sides. “Let go of me! You deserve to be hit! You almost made me choke to death just now!” They sputtered, loose hair falling all around their flustered face. “Then, just think, every year on your birthday you’d have a real reason to be mopy!”

He laughed even harder, laying his head back into the blankets, their soft, warm weight feeling good on top of him. “Heh, I guess you're right.”

Yuu scoffed, looking down at him disapprovingly but stayed anyway, chest pressed to his. They didn’t flinch in his arms like a skittish little prey animal, or look away in shame of the feelings between them. This time they only gazed down at him, eyes like mirrors, tilting their head to survey him. Leona stared back with equal intrigue, resisting the urge to wipe the stray cinnamon dust from the corners of their mouth.

Leona felt them let go of a held breath and relax into his arms. He took that as a sign to loosen his grip and wrap his arms around their lower back. In response, they only secured their position of dominance, nestling their head into his shoulder, acting like they belonged there. 

Hmph.

His heart began to settle down and accept their gentle nuzzles, he still had to play it cool after all.

They smelled so good, just how he remembered. Sweet, but not too sweet, and earthy like the gardens back home in the dawn. His eyes fell closed. Oh, yeah. There it was, rearing its nasty head. Forces beyond both their understanding and any sense of logic, tangling them together again. Oh well, he was too weak to refuse.

In this moment of honesty, they only wiggled their foot against his as he let his tail drape over the back of their soft legs. Who did they think they were? Laying on him like he was just there to be a handsome pillow for them? Ack, who was he kidding? This is what he wanted, as soon as they stepped through his threshold an hour and half ago. Just comfort.

“You hungry?” They blurted out, face squished against his collarbone. “I’m starving.” They flicked their fingers at the end of his braid, their voice small like a child. He would have agreed no matter what they asked.

“Yeah.” --

They lead the way down the wooden walkways, wrapped tight in one of his blankets. Every so often their eyes would glint as they turned around to give him a small glance, making sure he was still following behind them. He laid on the counter while they cooked and while they complained how unsanitary it all was. It was bittersweet to see that they still remembered where everything was in the dorm.

He chuckled as they rambled on about various things while cooking, content to observe their chaotic technique. It was a lot like their skills in potion-making class. Climbing on the counters, spilling things and sticking their fingers in the mixture to taste along the way.

At the end of it, Yuu managed to cook the two of them some sort of egg dish along with some of the ham for his birthday tomorrow. It was his wasn’t it? Surely no one would notice one rabbit-sized and one lion-sized serving carved out of the side of the meat.

Once back in his room, they present the meal as if they were dining somewhere fancy.

The flavors were simple but good. For someone with no training they were good in the kitchen. That’s what he liked about their and Ruggie’s food. It was never boring, but the ingredients were few and humble, like their potion making: each one had a purpose. There was no fluff or pretention in the end product. As they ate together on his bed he forgot all about his birthday. It was just the two of them, and he was already homesick at the idea they would leave again.

“Ugh,” They lamented, face twisted in disgust as they poked their fork in the last bit of food on his plate, offering it to his awaiting mouth. “I swear you always win, And what you don’t...you cheat at.” They narrowed their eyes at him.

“Sore loser talk.” He retorted with a sly expression, opening his jaw to gladly savor the final bite of the meat and eggs, arms behind his head to rest back on the pillows. They lost to him alright and feeding him the last of his meal was their “punishment.” “Mmph, and how pray tell would I ever cheat at rock-paper-scissors, Beast?” He asked through his chewing, licking his lips.

They pulled back the utensil roughly, letting it clatter to the plate. “Ugh, I don’t know. but I’m watching you.” Their upper lip curled up as they scowled, revealing their own little fang before crawling over him to flop down. The black and white shadows played over their face from the screen. He didn’t use the digital projector much that his family got him last year, but tonight was an exception.

“How ferocious.” He purred at them, letting out a content sigh. Now that his belly was full he was even more weary. Leona’s lids grew heavier and heavier as his eyes settled on their form on the end of his bed. Their little huffs and rhythmic breaths sent tingles up his legs as they lay draped across him watching the movie. 

How could he go to bed with a view like this?

“Mmm.” It was quiet as nothing but the film played out, the pictures reflecting in their wide eyes as they watched in rapture. He decided on one they hadn’t seen yet: an old noir he was fond of; a mystery. He figured they’d like that. Their little feet popped back and forth in the air as they continued to watch and after an indeterminate amount of time they gave him a backward glance.

���What’s up?” As their brow wrinkled at him they fished their two fingers into the candy bag. “Got a staring problem?” Licking the cinnamon from their fingertips they laid a seed on their red-stained tongue. They grabbed another and he could hear that they hit the bottom of the bag, eyes going a bit wide at the revelation, hoping he wouldn’t notice. 

“Nothin.’” Leona responded, head dizzy and chest a bit lighter. “Are ya comfortable?” He used his tail to mess with them, flicking the end of it in their face.

They sputtered, attempting to swat it away as he dodged them, continuing to play with them. “Yes, Yes I am and you’re botherin’ me!” They put a finger up to their lip. “Shh! I can’t hear when you talk.” They knitted their brows at him before licking at the seed pinched between their fingers  “...And get that thing outta my face before I bite it.”

“Oh, I’m quivering in fear.” He hissed before he finally had enough messing with them. His lips curved into a small grin of his own, his tail settling over the small of their back.

They looked back at him with mischievous eyes, form glowing by the moon on his bed.

“Mmm.” As their eyes settled on the screen, a dullness painted over their gaze as they looked down fumbling with the empty candy bag, clearly too beat to take any more jabs at him.

“Hm, You’re tired, aren’t cha? How is it? At the madhouse?”

“Well,” Their shoulders went up in a shrug and their eyes wandered the room. “To be honest…That’s kinda why I wanted to come here. Uh, I mean besides your birthday and all. Is that… bad?” They grimaced, awaiting his reaction.

He wanted to say it, but the words were stuck in his throat, and he didn’t wanna push it. He could behave, hold back. 

“Nah,” He assured them and the rest of the words just slipped out. That and his hands had a mind of their own. “...Happy to be your distraction.” He sat up fully and moved closer, reaching down to tuck their hair behind their ear.

This caused them to adjust their position on his legs, blinking up at him. They gave him a little nod to assure him that how close he came was okay, even moving closer so he could reach them better. “But...Is that fair?” Yuu asked through a whisper, pupils a bit shaky.

He chuckled as he let his fingers drift down their cheeks, wiping the corners of their mouth with his thumbs, like he had been wanting to do all night. “Life’s not fair.” He said, letting out a small scoff at the deflated candy bag beside them. “Well, looks like you cleaned me out. So much for a birthday gift…” He teased, but he couldn't give less of a fuck.

Their wide gaze darted down to where he was looking but still allowed him to continue touching them. “Shit.” They hissed and he could feel their face go warm in his hands. I guess I’m a little distracted.” Yuu puffed out a breath, and they smiled “Vil doesn’t even let us have snacks. He locks the fridge after 8. Like…I’m not even competing! S-sorry, about the candy.” 

It wasn’t like them to apologize. He tipped their chin up so he could see their face better. “...I’m just messin’ with ya. C’mon.” He was listening to them as best he could but he also felt himself getting sucked in. He swallowed. “Ey...you can eat whatever you want when you're with me.” He arched his brow, giving them a little wink.

“Hmph.” They let out a little relieved chuckle and relinquished his touch, letting their weary face fall into his cupped hand like the cute little herbivore they were.

“Oh.” He let out an audible sound at this development, as something stabbed through his chest. They were so damn cute and he was so damn pathetic. Sometimes the feelings were so intense that it hurt. Who woulda thought someone like him would be such a sap?

“It’s overwhelming…” They continued to wiggle closer, until they could lean their forehead in the center of his chest. Their eyes fell closed, and his fingers tangled in their hair as he began stroking the back of their neck. 

He didn’t really know what the hell he was doing, he wasn’t used to comforting someone like this. But he was trying, and their skin was so damn soft under his fingertips. 

“At every turn…there's someone telling me what to do. Everyone at the house being all needy and in the way. Ugh, I’m over it. Is that selfish?”

“Un-uh. Nothin’ wrong with wanting a little peace of mind,” He said, his fingers wrapping around their shoulders. “Know I wouldn’t last more than a day in that place…” He slipped his hands under their hair and traced down their back, letting his knuckles skate down their spine. “Looks like you’ve got more patience then me.”

They took note of his attempt to soothe them and began to play with his shirt as they talked. 

“-Sounds like you could use a break…” 

They froze at his words as if a realization struck them, features softening before him. “Yeah I-” Craning their head back they looked up at him, now eye to eye “I think…that’s why I came here.”

“Mmhmm,” He couldn't help it, his smile grew tenfold and his ego swelled. “Oh really? I’m that boring then, eh? That you only come to me to eat and sleep?” He was teasing them, but he could tell he struck a nerve.

“What?” They rolled their eyes at him, cocking their head. “N-no! I- Look! I know it’s your “day of birth” and all but I think I prefer the cocky, less self-deprecating Leona.” Unfortunately, this caused them to move from his lap and Yuu began to stack both their plates as they mumbled to themself. He resisted the urge to hold onto them and instead watched them pout and clean up, reaching down to set the objects on the floor.

“Tch, well…he's tired.” He shrugged. “Wasn’t a jab anyways I-”

There was a small rattle and he went quiet, knowing that they saw the bottle. They didn't say anything at first as they stretched back up, but after a moment of silence, their gaze went back to him. “You…goin’ to classes tomorrow?”

“Nah,” He crossed his arms. “Not if I can help it anyway.” He let himself fall back on the bed again, staring at the ceiling.

“You’re sure you're okay, Leona?”

He cursed himself for not hiding it better. “Don’t ask me that. I told ya, I’m fine. I wasn’t just saying it to make ya feel better. Tonight’s actually the first night I’ve taken ‘em since-'' He shook his head. “And it’s still not enough…” He muttered. “I’d sure be much better if I had a drink too tomorrow, heh.” He smirked as he rolled over, only to find them kneeling there close to him in the center of the bed. “Awe, now don’t look at me like that either...”

Their shoulders lowered and their face was soft again as they studied him, tunic hanging off of one of their arms. “Like what?”

“Like…my family.”

Yuu’s brows shot up and their expression shifted to one of defense. “I’m not.” They clenched the sheets below them. “No way I can judge you…” Yuu released a breath.” Were you…having trouble sleeping then? You just look…” They reached down, to tug on his braid. “...tired.” As they said this their hand went around his jaw, carefully moving his hair from his face.

“So I look that much like shit, eh?” At their touch the weight of it all began to collapse on him, Leona reached a hand to his face to overlap the back of theirs. “Yeah. I only took one anyway. Well, two...”

“Leona!” They scolded him in that voice, the one they used to use to keep everyone in line at this damn school. He missed it. It wasn’t too naggy or condescending. It hit him at his core, made his back straighten, and usually he knew they were right.

“What?”

“You’ve been tellin’ me to go to bed all night but…you are the one who should go to sleep!” They bit their lip as they laughed at him, shaking their head as they continued to pet him.

“But, I…can't.” He mouthed, the vision of their face above him a bit blurry. He wasn’t sure how it happened, how his head ended up in their lap, but he did, their soft thighs pressed against his face. They must have felt pretty bad for him. 

“Mmm, looks like being a bit pathetic has its perk-”

“Shh-”

A wry chuckle rumbled in his chest and he put up his hands in defeat, lowering his ears. “Fine. You’re the boss, but…if you're gonna put me to bed…don’t I get a little somethin’ sweet? Technically you ate all my-”

Before he could say anything else he felt something soft and supple on his face, tracing on the edge of his scar. He let out a breath and his eyes widened as he sat up, tail standing on end.

They looked down at him a bit coy, touching a few fingers to their lips. “Sheesh… Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. Didn’t know you lions were so jumpy.”

He swallowed, but tried to save face, running a hand through his hair. “...You lions, huh? He echoed. “Didn’t know little creatures like you were so…bold. N’ what was that all about?”

They rolled their eyes at his words, meanwhile they were acting so innocent, the final scenes of the movie playing behind their head. “I don’t know. Just a little…birthday gift. Something sweet.” Their shoulders rose up as they continued their little game. “If that’s okay.”

It was more than okay, he liked this game, when they came to play with him on their own. “Oh? A gift, huh?” His chest pounded so fast it was hard to speak, those damn pills. “...Sorry think I was a little…half asleep. I don't remember anything sweet…” He said through a delirious smirk. No way would it work but-

Without warning they slipped their fingers around his jaw, leaning down to kiss him again. This time, Yuu didn’t miss. They went straight for the kill, fitting their pouty lips between his for only a few seconds. Their soft little sighs, pulling at his broken heartstrings. When they were done, he was able to catch his breath again, a tingle going up his spine. He licked the taste of them from his lips, savoring it, the spices from the candy making his mouth water. The ball was in their court and if this is what they wanted he wouldn’t refuse them.

But, as usual, he was greedy…so he tested his luck once more. 

He panted chewing his lip, “Hmph. That…all I get?” He frowned as if he wasn’t satisfied. “Hm, it is my birthday, after all.” 

He managed to get a little laugh and a snort of disbelief from them. “...Needy.” The words were hot over his mouth as they lowered themselves to him again, nails digging into his jaw. They took their time with him, spreading their attention to the rest of his face beyond his mouth, leaving a trail of fire behind each little kiss. 

Leona’s eyes rolled back, no one ever kissed him quite like they did. 

He swore they did it on purpose, trying to coax the little noises from back of his throat. As they laid their lips on him more, his fingers gripped onto own his shirt, heart thudding against his knuckles. He let them do all the work as they pampered him, his tail bobbing between his legs. And all he could do was melt into their lap as they killed him over and over with their cinnamon sugar kisses. Unfortunately, he knew if he let himself taste them back, he wouldn’t be able to stop till he devoured them, and he didn’t wanna overwhelm them…this time. 

When they were done he felt drunk, his lips still burning from the candy dust, lungs full of their sweet breaths. His head was dizzier than sleeping pills would have ever made him. It was fatal. He knew this would be even more habit-forming than any of his other vices. 

“Now, that was somethin’ sweet…” 

They stared down at him, a bit unimpressed, wiping the left over drool he had left on the edge of their mouth. “...You gonna sleep now, Lion?” They mused, playing with his braid, and using it to tap at his forehead.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m going.” He let his eyes fall closed and sighed, the hole in his chest stitched together, for now. He felt himself drifting off already, safe in their custody, still licking his lips. 

“Hey?”

“Hm?”

Tell me…’bout your day, hm? Mmm, what have you been doing since I last saw ya? Tell me anything.” He commanded softly. His body became more weightless in their arms as they petted his hair, massaging his scalp around his limp ears. “I wanna listen while I…”

“Oh? Am I that boring? You want me to put you to sleep?” Their soft laughter echoed above, so far off now.

He used the last reserves of his energy to chuckle one last time. “No, I just wanna…hear ya. That’s all.” 

The last thing he felt was their lips over his left eyelid, then his right. That was it, this little move caused his eyes to burn. Hm, no one had ever kissed him like that, it was like he was a kid again. 

“Fine. Happy Birthday, Leona.”

--

[brunchable]

POV: You're sucked into your Fanfic - Part Two

《 The plot goes off the rails. 》

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Writer!fReader

Themes: Comedy - Chaotic Duo (mainly y/n), breaking 4th wall. Fanfic Bucky meets his writer.

Summary: Y/N, now fully aware she’s in her fanfic, tries to navigate the villain’s role but is terrible at it. Y/N tries to sabotage one of the villain’s main plans but accidentally makes things worse.

A/N: Y/N is just a clown at this point LMAO.

tags: @winterslove1917 @zeeader @iamdedsthingz @hzdhrtss @almosttoopizza

@yiiiikesmish

You’ve come to terms with the fact that you’re in your own fanfic, but now comes the hard part: pretending to be the villain you wrote, a role you’re quickly realizing you’re terrible at.

“I can do this,” you mutter to yourself as you pace around your lair—or, well, the lair you wrote. “I wrote the villain. I know how to be evil... right?”

The words sound hollow even to your own ears, but you try to psych yourself up. After all, you can’t be that bad at playing the character you created... right?

Wrong.

You freeze at a loud thud echoing through the room. Oh no. That’s probably Bucky—or maybe the rest of the Avengers—coming to crash this part of the story. You know what comes next: an epic confrontation, full of dramatic one-liners and battle-ready glares. A perfect opportunity for your villain character to show off her menacing charm.

Only problem? You’re about as menacing as a kitten wearing a cape.

You glance toward the entrance, heart racing. Okay, play it cool, you can pull this off.

But deep down, you’re still reeling from the last time you faced Bucky. You were supposed to be locked in a super high-tech Avengers prison, right? Yeah. That lasted a grand total of two hours, mostly because your minions—and you use the term very loosely—broke you out.

To be fair, you didn’t even know you had minions. You didn’t exactly plan for that when you wrote the story. But, apparently, your villain character does. And when they broke you out, it was less like a well-executed heist and more like a disorganized clown car unloading directly into a high-security facility.

Imagine the worst rescue you can think of. Now multiply it by ten, add three explosions that were definitely not supposed to happen, and you have a vague idea of how badly it went. There were henchmen tripping over each other, one of them got stuck in the ventilation shaft, and another one kept calling you "Supreme Evil Leader," which felt flattering but... also very awkward.

To make matters worse, Bucky—looking all intense and broody, because of course he does—caught up with you right as you were awkwardly sliding into the escape vehicle, and the confrontation? Oh, it was a mess. 

You tried to give him a villainous speech about how “this isn’t over,” but it came out more like, “I’m... uh... not done here! Watch out!”

Then one of your minions set off a smoke bomb before anyone was ready, and you tripped over your own feet trying to make a dramatic exit. Classic villain move? Not quite. You barely made it out without face-planting.

So yeah. That’s where you’re at. This is round two, and you’re really hoping to do better this time.

Another thud echoes through the room. You swallow hard.

Okay, no more bumbling. This time, I’m going to deliver the villainous performance of a lifetime. 

You scramble to the center of the room and try to remember what your villainous character would say. You did write this scene, after all. It’s just... harder to do it when you’re living it. Especially when you know Bucky is about to walk in, all brooding and muscle-y.

Maybe if I just stand here and look mysterious? That’s evil, right? Just stare into the distance like I’m plotting something dark.

As the door bursts open and Bucky strides in, guns blazing (literally, because of course he’s carrying), you raise a hand, attempting to look menacing. “Aha! Bucky Barnes... we meet again!”

He pauses mid-step, raising an eyebrow. “You’re... dramatic.”

Damn it! Why did I write such terrible dialogue?

You cringe internally, but you push on. “Yes, well... I’m a villain. That’s what we do, right? Be dramatic?”

He’s not buying it. “Is this supposed to scare me?” His tone is flat, his expression unreadable.

You fumble for a comeback. “I—I mean, of course! You should be terrified of my... evil...ness.” You gesture vaguely around the lair, hoping it looks more intimidating than it feels.

Bucky takes another step forward, his metal arm gleaming under the dim lighting. “You don’t seem very sure of yourself.”

Great.

“I’m very sure!” you snap, but even you don’t believe yourself. You can feel your composure slipping. This is not how it was supposed to go. You were supposed to deliver a chilling monologue and strike fear into the heart of your enemies.

Instead, all you can think about is how Bucky’s muscles look even better in person.

Focus! You’re supposed to be evil! Stop mentally cataloging his biceps!

Bucky crosses his arms, clearly waiting for you to say something intimidating, but your brain is short-circuiting. 

“Look,” you start, hoping to salvage the situation, “maybe we could just... skip the whole fighting thing? We’re all tired, right? How about we just, I don’t know, chat?”

He blinks, clearly confused. “Chat?”

“Yeah!” you nod enthusiastically, jumping on this new plan. “You know, talk it out. No need for violence. I’m sure we can... negotiate.”

Bucky narrows his eyes. “You’re stalling again.”

“Stalling? Me? No way!” You laugh nervously. “Okay, fine, maybe a little. But in my defense, I wasn’t expecting you to look this... uh, intense.”

He steps closer, clearly not amused. “You’re the worst villain I’ve ever met.”

“How many times are you going to say that?,” you groan, throwing your hands up. “I didn’t ask for this! Well, technically I did because I wrote it, but now that I’m living it, it’s way harder than it seemed when I was typing it up, okay?”

Bucky stares at you, utterly confused, as you ramble. “You wrote what?”

“Never mind,” you mutter, waving him off. “The point is, being evil is exhausting, and I’m not cut out for it.”

Bucky looks at you like you’ve lost your mind—which, honestly, you probably have at this point. You’re clearly not doing a great job of selling the “evil mastermind” role.

“Okay,” you say, standing up straighter, trying one last time to get back into character. “You know what? Let’s forget all that. Let’s just get back on track, okay?”

You strike a dramatic pose, trying to regain some villainous dignity. “Behold, Bucky Barnes, for you will never escape my clutches! Mwahaha—”

Before you can even finish your half-hearted evil laugh, the ground beneath you starts shaking. You freeze.

“Oh no,” you whisper, realizing that you’ve accidentally triggered the next phase of your villain’s grand plan—which you totally forgot about.

The lair begins transforming around you, mechanical arms lowering from the ceiling, hidden weapons emerging from the walls. 

What did I even write here? You try to remember, but it’s been too long, and you wrote so many twists and turns into this plot.

Bucky raises an eyebrow as the chaos unfolds. “This part of the plan?”

You wince. “Uh... yes? I mean, obviously.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “You don’t even know what’s happening, do you?”

“Not... exactly,” you admit sheepishly. “It’s been a while since I wrote this, okay? But look, I’m sure it’ll all work out in my favor.”

Just then, a panel on the wall opens up, revealing a countdown timer with large, glowing red numbers. Your heart sinks. Oh no. Not the countdown!

Bucky notices the timer and shoots you a look. “What happens when that hits zero?”

You scratch the back of your neck. “Um, you’re not gonna like this, but... I think it triggers some sort of self-destruct sequence? Maybe. I’m not entirely sure.”

Bucky glares at you. “You think?”

“Look, I was going for high stakes when I wrote it, okay? I didn’t expect to actually be here!” you blurt out, throwing your hands up.

He groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re a disaster.”

“I know! But it’s not my fault! Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep your villain persona together when you’re staring at all this?” You gesture to him dramatically, feeling flustered. “You’re like... ripped.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard by your sudden compliment. “Excuse me?”

“I said what I said!” you huff. “You’re ripped, and it’s distracting, okay?”

He shakes his head, still looking at you like you’re crazy. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’ve been told that before,” you reply with a grin, trying to distract him while you figure out what to do next. “But seriously, can we stop the countdown? Because I really don’t want to blow up right now.”

Bucky takes a step forward, eyes narrowing. “Then stop playing around and fix this.”

You fumble for the control panel, desperately pressing buttons at random. The countdown speeds up, and you wince. 

“Oh no, I think I made it worse.”

Bucky grabs your wrist, yanking you away from the panel. “Stop touching things if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“YOU TOLD ME TO FIX THIS!” you protest, but Bucky’s death glare shuts you up immediately. You shrink back, feeling the weight of his grip on your wrist as he pulls you away from the panel.

“You’re making it worse,” he growls, letting go of you. “Just… stand there and do nothing.”

You cross your arms, pouting. “Not my fault this whole thing’s a dumpster fire. I wrote it, but I didn’t think I’d have to live it.”

Bucky ignores your muttering as he works on the control panel, trying to figure out how to disable the countdown. You watch him for a moment, eyes trailing over his arms as they flex with every movement.

Focus, Y/N. Now’s not the time for ogling. Well… maybe just a little ogling.

"How are you so calm during all this?” you ask, hoping to break the tension—and maybe sneak in a little more flirting. “I mean, you’re literally disarming a self-destruct sequence with those gorgeous, dangerous hands of yours. It’s honestly distracting.”

Bucky doesn’t even look up, but you swear you see a flicker of a smirk. “You’re the one who set this off in the first place. Shouldn’t you be handling it?”

“Look, if you weren’t here being all Captain Broody and Muscles McGee, maybe I could think straight,” you snap back. “I can’t be held responsible for the chaos you create just by standing there.”

He finally glances at you, eyebrow raised. “You’re blaming me?”

“Well, yeah!” you say, gesturing wildly. “I was trying to be a villain, but have you seen yourself? How am I supposed to be evil when you look like you just stepped out of a superhero calendar?”

Bucky rolls his eyes, turning back to the control panel, but you catch a flicker of amusement in his expression. You might be bad at villainy, but at least you’re good at throwing him off.

You lean back against the wall, pretending to be casual as your heart pounds in your chest. “So... once we stop the countdown and we’re not blown to smithereens, what do you say we grab a drink? You know, to celebrate not dying.”

“Do you ever stop talking?” Bucky mutters, still focused on the panel.

“I’ll stop talking when you stop being hot,” you fire back without missing a beat.

Bucky finally stops what he’s doing and looks at you, one eyebrow raised in disbelief. “Are you flirting with me right now? While we’re about to blow up?”

You give him a sheepish grin. “Hey, if we’re going down, might as well go out swinging. Or... flirting.”

“Unbelievable,” Bucky mutters under his breath before turning back to the countdown. With one final movement, he manages to disable the timer, and the red numbers blink out.

You let out a long breath, slumping in relief. “Okay, so maybe I didn’t entirely screw things up.”

Bucky stands up straight, glaring at you with his arms crossed. “You almost killed us.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t,” you say, flashing him a grin. “So technically, I saved us. You’re welcome.”

“You’re impossible.”

“I prefer ‘charmingly chaotic,’” you reply with a wink. “But sure, impossible works too.”

Bucky shakes his head, clearly exasperated. “You’re lucky you didn’t blow up your own lair.”

“See? Lucky. I’m like a walking good luck charm,” you say, giving him a playful nudge. “So, about that drink—”

“Not happening,” he interrupts, cutting you off.

You sigh dramatically. “You’re no fun.”

Bucky steps closer, leaning in so his face is just inches from yours. For a split second, you think he might actually be considering it. But then he says, “You still owe me for almost killing us. Get moving before I change my mind.”

You blink up at him, trying to ignore how flustered you feel. “You know, for someone who’s supposed to be a hero, you’re awfully grumpy.”

“And for someone who’s supposed to be a villain, you’re terrible at it,” he shoots back.

You can’t help but grin. “Fair point. But hey, I never said I was good at being bad. I’m more of a... chaotic neutral.”

Bucky shakes his head again and walks toward the door, clearly done with the conversation. “Let’s go. And try not to trigger another self-destruct sequence.”

Before you can even muster a comeback—probably something sarcastic about how it’s hard to be a villain when you’re distracted by muscles—you suddenly feel a strange tug, like someone’s yanking you backward by an invisible rope.

Your eyes widen. “Wait, what—”

The room starts spinning. One second, you’re staring at Bucky’s very serious, very grumpy face, and the next, it feels like the entire lair is collapsing around you. Everything blurs together in a whirl of colors and lights.

“OH MY GOD, AM I DYING?!” you scream, arms flailing as you try to hold onto something, anything. But there’s nothing. Not even Bucky’s annoyed expression to anchor you.

For a brief, panicked moment, you’re convinced this is it. This is how you go out. Flung into the void for writing bad fanfiction. What a way to go.

Then, with a pop, you land face-first into... your bed.

You blink, completely disoriented. “Wait... what just happened?”

Your laptop sits open beside you, the fanfic document staring you in the face like it’s mocking you. Your head is spinning, your heart racing, and you slowly sit up, still convinced you might be hallucinating.

“No way...” you mutter, glancing around your bedroom, taking in the very non-evil surroundings. The smell of laundry detergent. The sound of traffic outside. Your cat, Felix, staring at you from the corner with a look that clearly says, What the hell was that?

“I’m... back?” You pat yourself down, making sure you’re all in one piece. No villain outfit, no lair, no brooding super-soldiers demanding you fix things. Just... reality.

It hits you like a ton of bricks. “Oh my God, I got kicked out of my own fanfic.”

You collapse backward onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I didn’t even get to redeem myself! Or finish flirting with Bucky! Not that I was doing a good job, but still!”

Felix hops onto the bed and meows at you, completely unimpressed with your current existential crisis.

You groan, pulling the laptop onto your lap and staring at the screen. “Well... I guess this is better than being trapped in my own chaotic, terrible story. But man, I was so close to redeeming myself. Kinda.”

Felix bats at your laptop as if to remind you of your priorities.

“Fine, fine,” you mutter, fingers hovering over the keyboard. “I guess I’ll just... write the rest of the story like a normal person.”

You pause, glancing at Felix. “Do you think Bucky misses me?”

Felix’s blank stare is the only response you get.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you sigh dramatically. “He probably doesn’t even remember me. I didn’t even get to finish my evil monologue.”

You sit up on your bed, still reeling from your sudden ejection from the fanfic world. Your brain is buzzing with one thought: I need to go back.

Sure, your villainous arc had gone off the rails, but you were so close to turning things around. And, let’s be honest, who wouldn’t want to try a redemption arc when it means more time with Bucky?

You rub your temples, staring at your laptop like it holds the secrets of the universe. “Okay, okay... maybe if I just... concentrate hard enough, I can get back in. That’s how it works, right?”

Felix watches you with his usual disapproving stare as you gather all the determination you can muster and lean in toward the laptop screen.

“Come on, just suck me back into the fanfic,” you mutter, inching closer to the screen, squinting at it as if somehow willing yourself back into the story would do the trick. “Please?”

Nothing.

You frown. “Alright, time for desperate measures.”

With a deep breath, you slam your forehead into the laptop screen.

Thud.

“Ow!” you yelp, clutching your head as Felix meows at you like, What is wrong with you?

“That didn’t work,” you mutter, rubbing your forehead. “Okay, let’s try something else.”

You get up, pacing back and forth. “What did I do last time? Maybe if I type something... yeah, that’s it! I’ll just type myself back in!”

You sit back down, hands flying over the keyboard as you try to rewrite yourself back into the fanfic.

“Y/N is sucked back into the story... um... gracefully and... with a cool villain pose!” you type, nodding to yourself. “Yeah, perfect.”

You press enter with a dramatic flourish and then wait.

...

Nothing happens.

You stare at the screen, blinking. “Okay, rude.”

Felix hops up onto the desk, flicking his tail in annoyance as if to say, Even I know this is a terrible plan.

“Oh, shut up,” you grumble at the cat, shaking your head. “Maybe it needs more drama.”

You jump up from your chair and dramatically yell, “I SUMMON THEE, FANFICTION WORLD! BRING ME BACK TO BUCKY!”

Felix stares at you, completely unimpressed.

Still nothing.

“Why is this so hard?” you groan, leaning over your laptop like you’re trying to psychically connect with it. “Come on, take me back! Just throw me back into the chaos! I’ll do better this time, I swear!”

In a fit of frustration, you try slapping the screen. Then gently caressing it. Then hugging the laptop like it’s some magical portal that just needs a little love.

Felix meows again, this time louder, as if to say, Seriously, stop embarrassing yourself.

“Fine!” you huff, letting go of the laptop. “Maybe I need to... I don’t know, meditate my way back in. Channel my inner villain.”

You sit cross-legged on the bed, closing your eyes and breathing deeply. “I am a powerful, misunderstood villainess. Bucky Barnes cannot resist my charm. Take me baaaaack...”

Silence.

Your eyes pop open and you look around. Still in your bedroom. Felix gives you an unimpressed side-eye.

“Ugh!” you groan, throwing yourself backward onto the bed in defeat. “I’m stuck here. Forever.”

Then, out of nowhere, your phone buzzes. You lazily grab it, fully prepared to ignore the world, when you see the time.

Your eyes widen in horror. “Oh no... I’m late for work!”

You leap off the bed, tossing Felix an apologetic look. “Sorry, gotta go! Villainy will have to wait! Please don’t tell anyone how badly this went!”

In your panic, you nearly trip over your slippers as you rush to grab your bag and dash for the door, realizing that while you might have been kicked out of your fanfic, real life is waiting—and it doesn’t care how close you were to a redemption arc.

As you race to get ready, you can’t help but mumble to yourself, “I swear, next time I get sucked into a fanfic, I’m writing myself as the hero... and with a better wake-up plan.”

[python333]

task force 141 reacting to [reader] giving them a 'happy father's day' card — python333

— — — —

synopsis you give the tf141 boys some happy father's day cards!!

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & younger!reader.

characters cap. price, soap, ghost.

warnings 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign], reader is intended to be around 16/17-20/21 but can be interpreted as older as long as they're below 24 (just so that the headcanons make more sense), maybe ooc?

note i'm so sorry but there's no gaz in this one BUT i can explain why!! i was doing my research (going through three different tumblr posts) to figure out the actual age of each character and gaz is apparently 24?? in new updates or whatever?? anyway, even before i found that out, i could only ever imagine writing him as an older brother, simply because he doesn't feel fatherly to me but still has those protecive-familial vibes so if yall want me to write something on him being ur older brother then feel free to request/reply/comment or whatever and i will! :3 this is all comfort no hurt and pure fluff so enjoy!!

JOHN “BRAVO SIX” PRICE

➥ OH GOD.

➥ man i don’t even have daddy issues and i’m crying.

➥ gives you that one dad smile he has—y’all know the one. don’t pretend you don’t—and thanks you for it.

➥ gives you a lil hug too because why not?

➥ tears up just the tiniest bit but it’s pretty unnoticeable but i need you to know that it’s there.

➥ either keeps it propped up on his desk, in one of the drawers of his desk, or puts it in a small frame and puts that on or in his desk.

➥ definitely reads it at least once a week.

➥ he’s so genuinely flattered by it i think that after you leave his office he’d tear up a bit.

➥ you thought he was acting as a father figure to you before?

➥ be prepared for him to take it to a whole nother level.

➥ starts getting you cheesy birthday cards after you start giving him father’s day cards.

➥ is he a father biologically? no. is he one mentally, emotionally, and spiritually? absolutely.

—

You were reasonably pretty nervous.

It wasn’t ever really a secret that you and Price had some sort of father-child-like relationship, what with the amount of hair ruffles, head pats, shoulder pats, etc. that you’d received from him and the swatting at his hand with your own that you had given back. But none of that took away the nervousness you had when you gave Price a father’s day card for the first time.

It’s not that you thought that he would be weirded out by it, you just had a small habit of overthinking things, and this happened to be one of those things. The card didn’t say too much inside of it, a simple ‘happy father’s day!’ and a sentence you wrote that mentioned that you were grateful to know him. That’s it. That’s all it was. And yet, your hand shook as you held it, the other hand knocking on the door of Price’s office.

He nodded in greeting and opened it, and stepped out of the way to let you walk in and sit in front of his desk. He sat at his usual seat after shutting the door, and you set the card in your lap, not wanting him to see it just yet.

“Is there any particular reason why you wanted to come into my office?” Price asked, breaking the silence. You took a deep breath and nodded before you quickly handed over the card, slipping it onto his side of the desk. He took a good look at it for a moment, reading the ‘happy father’s day!’ on the front and looking over the cheesy illustration on the cover. You anxiously waited for him to say something as he simply stared at it, before he picked it up and opened it, reading the short few words that were written on the inside.

You watched as his expression melted into a softer one, and he stared at the card for another moment before wordlessly getting up. Before you could say anything, or question anything, he knelt down to the level of the chair you were sitting in and hugged you. You were frozen with surprise before you hugged him back, loosely wrapping your arms over his shoulders, a little confused by the hug but appreciating the embrace nonetheless. He rubbed your back for a quick moment before standing back up straight and patting your shoulder.

”Thank you,” He said, smiling down at you. “I really appreciated that, kiddo.”

Oh, wow. I don’t know why, but I think I might start crying. “Yeah—yeah, of course,” You’d replied, quickly getting up and giving Price a quick hug before swiftly walking to the door, “I’ll just, uh, I’ll be in my room. Or, actually, no, I’m gonna go—I’m gonna go bother Soap in his office, so if you need me I’ll be in there okaybyeCaptainI’llseeyoulater!” You rushed out, not looking back as you closed the door behind you.

Price had blinked at the door for a moment before huffing out a small laugh and sitting back down in his chair, looking at the card you’d given him one last time before sighing and letting himself tear up a bit. Eventually, after just sitting there and staring at the card, he unlocked one of the few locked drawers at the bottom of his desk and put the card there, for safekeeping.

—

JOHN “SOAP” MACTAVISH

➥ he’s so excited when he reads that card.

➥ he’s so flattered?? and is so happy?? and oh my god he might pass out?? from all the positive emotions he feels??

➥ be careful with what you say because you might break him beyond repair.

➥ it’s like you’ve given a puppy it’s first treat, honestly.

➥ won’t cry but is very close to!!

➥ will definitely show off the card to everyone.

➥ when i say everyone i mean EVERYONE.

➥ he will talk everyone’s ear off about it, no matter who they are or what they’re doing, hell, the man could be pissing with his dick out at the urinals and everything and he’ll still be ranting to the poor soul in the bathroom about what a sweetheart you are and how you gave him a father’s day card.

➥ he starts calling you ‘lamb’ and ‘duckie’ after the whole ordeal.

➥ no i didn’t ask chatgpt for terms of endearment scottish parents use for their children haha!!

➥ he buys a corkboard just to pin the card to in his office.

➥ like it’s literally just in the middle, nothing else on the corkboard, just that singular father’s day card.

➥ the whole thing is just reserved for father’s day cards tbh. he hopes to fill it up with as many cards as you’ll give him, and if you only give him the one, then damn it, the corkboard’s only gonna have one thing on it and whoever questions it can mind their damn business.

—

You didn’t really know what to expect with Soap when you gave him the card.

You felt pretty confident giving it to him, knowing the guy could probably receive a rock with googly eyes on it from you and still cry tears of joy knowing you gave it to him of all people, so giving this card to him was no big deal, right?

You found him in the recreational center, lounging on the couch, reading a book—shocking, I know—and quietly reading the words out loud to himself. The moment you had entered the center, though, he looked up from his book and nodded in greeting at you with a smile on his face and watched as you walked over to him.

Before he could say anything, you quickly put the card in his lap and watched as he looked up at you, a surprised and amused expression on his face.

“What’s this?” He asked, not looking down at the card just yet.

“Read it,” You’d insisted, gesturing towards the card in his lap. He blinked at you for a moment before muttering, “Alright, then,” under his breath and looking down at the card. He picked it up and read the three short words on the front and looked over the illustration on the cover, and the moment the words registered in his brain, his face broke out into a grin and he looked up at you.

“Aww, this is sae sweet,” Soap gushed, “Thank ye!”

He got up before you could talk and hugged you tightly, lifting you off the ground a bit, cooing, “Ye're jist the sweetest, ma God, when did ye get the card?”

“I got it a while ago,” You had admitted, “Decided to give it to you now.”

Soap set you down and put both of his hands on your shoulders, gently rubbing circles into them with his thumb, looking down at you with an elated grin, "I'm gonnae hang this up in ma office—I'll get a corkboard an' everything, jist for this."

You looked up at him with a confused, but amused look on your face, asking, “And you’re just gonna hang that card on there?”

He nodded in confirmation and responded, “Aye, it'll be deid center, naething else on there."

—

SIMON “GHOST” RILEY

➥ oh my goodness.

➥ the moment you hand him the card, it’s like he already knows what it is without reading it.

➥ probably thinks it’s a joke at first.

➥ when he realizes that you’re serious he straight up tears up.

➥ like in front of you and everything he’ll tear up.

➥ “... Are you crying?” ghost, tearing up and literally about to start sobbing, "No.”

➥ he treasures that thing and would literally cease to exist if he ever lost it or if it got destroyed.

➥ won’t flaunt it at all, instead he keeps it in the pocket of a jacket he never wears anymore.

➥ if you ever give him more cards, he’ll consider getting a box to keep them in.

➥ he’s always called you ‘kid’ but after this he starts calling you ‘kiddo’.

➥ THERE’S A DIFFERENCE. I CANNOT TELL YOU WHAT IT IS BUT THERE IS A DIFFERENCE.

➥ listen kiddo is more affectionate and its softer and its not as playful as kid its more personal and and and [explodes]

➥ the others notice the small change in behavior he has towards you (being more lighthearted with his teasing, generally being less cold with you, etc.) and will tease him endlessly about it.

➥ by others i mean soap and gaz. those two team up and tease him to death.

➥ he could care less though!! he tells himself that they’re idiots anyway and that his behavior hasn’t changed that much.

➥ he’s in denial and i think that him and me are the same fr.

—

You had practically searched every corner, crevice, nook, and cranny of the base searching for Ghost. When you finally found him, he was in the armory and weapons room cleaning the barrel of his rifle, hyperfocused on wiping away the gunk on the gun. You stopped by the door, hesitating in giving him the card. It really shouldn’t be that hard, You thought, What’s the worst that could happen?

You were aware that there were many things that could happen, most of which were bad, but you ignored them for the sake of building up your confidence to give him the card. You stood there for a while, just sort of staring at him, before he—not even looking up from his gun—called out to you with a simple yet firm, “Do you need something?”

You probably could’ve died right there, his firm voice almost completely shattering your confidence for reasons you couldn’t specify, but you instead cleared your throat and walked out of the doorway and completely into the room. You walked over to him and before he could ask any further questions you held the card out to him, your hand having a small tremble to it, an uncomfortably visible display of your nervousness.

He stared at the card for a moment before setting down the cloth he was using to clean his gun and grabbing it, reading the front for a moment before huffing out a small laugh and looking up at you to tease you for it. He was going to tell you what a ‘funny’ joke it was, to tell you to just go do whatever work you’re probably skipping out on when he sees the look on your face that tells him that you’re pretty serious about the card.

He looked back down at the card and read it again, the words ‘happy father’s day’ echoing through his mind as he opened it. He read the few short words on the inside of the card and the shitty drawing of a ghost right next to one that was scribbled out—because of course you had to use pen and weren’t satisfied with the first ghost you drew even though Ghost could make out through the scribbles that they practically looked the same.

You were pretty nervous the longer the silence stretched out, and you were about to take back the card and go jump off a cliff to avoid ever looking at Ghost again when suddenly you hear a sniffle.

“Are you… are you crying?” You’d asked, more confused than nervous now, watching as Ghost shook his head negatively and continued to stare at the inside of the card.

“No,” He answered, sniffling again.

“... You sure?” You’d asked again, far less nervous now, your tone becoming more teasing.

“Positive.” Ghost said firmly, though his voice had wavered a bit. He looked up at you and reached his hand up to give you a pat on the shoulder, muttering, “Thank you for that, kiddo.”

"Yeah, no problem," You had said back, smiling down at Ghost before taking a step back, "I'll leave you to keep cleaning your gun, or whatever."

Ghost had simply nodded and looked back at the table where your card and his gun laid, and you didn't stay long enough to watch him tear up all over again at the sight of the letter.

[ino-takumas-baggy-sweater]

The Blessing to Your Curse - Part 1 (Ryomen Sukuna x Reader)

Hey y’all I’m back again so soon with another fic, Sukuna’s lover reincarnation (whatever you call it) has me in a chokehold right now and I thought I’d share this with the world. Would like to warn you there is a lot of strange jumping around/pov changes which are indicated by the change in pronouns, I would mark each change but it would get a bit messy after a while so I hope it’s not too hard to follow! ^-^

Reader’s powers involve something I like to call ‘blessed energy’ which is the opposite to cursed energy and is mostly used for healing (reverse blessed energy is used to harm in the same way reverse CE is used to heal) and it’s something I created to use with my writings in the JJK universe. (sometimes I write it a little op because im a self-indulgent piece of shit so for most of what I post I’ll probably dial it back if I use it hehe) The reader has a similar situation to Maki/Mai (MANGA SPOILERS AHEAD) where one twin is restricted and the other has all the energy, and when the one with the energy dies the living twin gains all the power, so I hope that makes sense in context of the story

(PLEASE DON'T HESITATE TO SEND A REQUEST!!!! I'M ALWAYS IN NEED OF NEW PROMPTS AND CHARACTERS TO GO WITH THEM ❤)(I have a post which outlines characters I mostly write for but I'm open to adding to that list!!)

Warnings: mild description of mutilation (sukuna’s transformation), main character death (not described), fluff

Word count: 2.4k

“Ryomen!” You laugh, trying to keep a few steps ahead of the young man who chases after you. Your legs tire easily, body frail and sick despite the immense power flowing through your veins. “I’m coming for you!” He growls playfully, “Better run!” He’s holding back from his top speed, this you know well, but you refuse to let that stop you from trying to keep up with his childish play. Still young, 16 and 17 with him being the older one, you insist that you would rather spend the rest of your life here with him than being shepherded around in the village like a priestess.

This is your only escape from the temple on the hill, only solitude, your time with Ryomen Sukuna is precious and you treat it as such, thinking only of him and his rare smiles. You refuse to let the village’s words taint your view of him, as powerful as he is with his cursed energy there is good in him and you seek to nurture it, for both simple selfish gain and so he doesn’t turn on everyone like they did him. You reach the treeline and race out into the meadow, the grass tall and soft around your waist having stripped down from your daily ceremonial robes into just modest loose undergarments.

He does eventually catch up near the middle of the meadow, springing out of the grass and tackling you to the ground, making sure to roll so you land on top of him and he takes the full force of the fall. The last time you returned to the village after a long day of simple play with bruises and scrapes you weren’t allowed to leave the village for a few weeks.

He’s grown quite a lot larger than you during his time in exile, to be expected when you have to fend for yourself against wild animals and build your own shelter, “You’re getting stronger every day,” You smile, pushing yourself off him and laying in the grass, staring up at the beautiful pink of the sunset. “Well I have to, to be able protect you, I’m not the only thing out there you know,” He says, his tone almost too blasé for what he’s implying. You tilt your head and trace the lines of his tattoos with your eyes, “I know you’re not, but you’re not a thing to me Ryomen,” You murmur, “Please, you’re the closest thing I have to a friend, you’ve always been human to me,”

He meets your gaze, his eyes used to be brown, but the red no longer worries you like it used to, “One day I’ll get you out of that village,” He says softly, his words for your ears and the rustling grass only, “I will take you far away from here and we can live somewhere untouched by the rest of the world,” You sit up, looking down at him as you hug your knees to your chest, “I’d like that,” You say, smiling, “Just the two of us,” Nothing could touch you while you were together, the world stood still for you, not even the scathing remarks you sometimes got from the other young girls of the village could hurt you.

The world is volatile, things can change so quickly. Curses are still so new to the world of humans, sorcerers that act as protectors are only just starting to appear among humans and spread themselves between villages when the day finally comes. The wave of hatred and anguish that came with the curses suffocated everything in its path. You were outside the village when it happened, returning from a visit with Sukuna, and you returned to find nothing but death and destruction. More than half of the village had been killed with no discrimination towards age or gender, and it only soothed you a little to see your old family home empty when you wrenched the door open. No blood nor bodies of any kind. Your parents and sister had made it out alive, but the temple atop the hill that you resided in was completely engulfed.

You weren’t naïve, you did not attempt to return to the temple, but they came for you all the same because your energy was like a beacon for them, and they were programmed to destroy. Running with Ryomen had improved your strength over the time you spent together, you supposed that was one of the ways he took care of you in his silent brooding way, but it wasn’t enough to get you all the way to him. He must have sensed your fear as you grew nearer, your breaths shallow and your chest tight, his eyes are the last thing you remember seeing before your soul was harshly liberated from your flesh.

The smell of blood permeated through layers of warmth that held you in suspension beyond life, but you felt yourself being dragged back to the ground, standing over your own body as you watch the only person outside of your immediate family who ever truly cared for you cry. You had never seen him cry before, it was cathartic to know even he still felt human somewhere inside while holding your weak broken body to his bare tattooed chest.

You felt his cursed energy filling the air like smoke, almost able to see it in the purgatory state you’re trapped in, his body shaking and his muscles twitching. It was like watching someone turn themselves inside out when it finally happened, his body began changing before your eyes, an extra pair of arms sprout from the top of his ribcage just under the normal ones. His face contorts with an agonized cry and one half becomes unrecognisable, the flesh pink and hardened into some sort of twisted mask, and to finish the monstrous transformation a second pair of eyes open under his regular ones.

Drenched in sweat and breathing heavily as he cradles you, you hear him make one last promise, one that locks around what remains of your essence like chains and puts you into a deep sleep. “I will burn this world for taking you from me, I will become the King of Curses, and when you are reborn I shall make you remember, make you my Queen, I will bind myself to you to protect you,” It’s the final part that reassures you he isn’t losing himself as the darkness consumes you, “When I find you, the world will be right once again,”

Now it had been over a thousand years since the light in Sukuna’s life had gone out, reducing him to a killing machine that punished the world for snuffing it out, and he had returned once more in the body of a naive 15 year old boy with pink hair. Having been preserved as twenty separate cursed objects since his untimely death he was eager to resume his self-assigned purge, but the boy had more control over his body than Sukuna could break through, leaving him trapped within his innate domain watching through Yuji Itadori’s eyes like they’re windows.

“I had to do it at least once,” He grumbles to himself as the boy sits up, stark naked, on the morgue table, surprising the three sorcerers in the room with the formerly dead boy. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet, Yuji, come,” Gojo instructs as the boy slips on some clothes handed to him. “Another sorcerer?” He asks. “You’ll see when we get there,” The taller man beckons him and they make their way to a house on the furthest outskirts of the Jujutsu high campus, small in size and surrounded by forest on all sides except for the path leading up to the entrance.

A fire burns in the chimney and the house is warm when the pair steps inside, “L/n!” Gojo calls out. Sukuna’s attention is elsewhere as around the corner down the hall out walks a pure angel, her energy blinding and her form strong. “Gojo!” She smiles, “Who’s this?” “This is Yuji Itadori, Ryomen Sukuna’s vessel,” She bows politely, “Welcome to my home,” She looks back up into Yuji’s eyes as he smiles, “It’s nice to meet you!”

“Enchain!” Sukuna shouts, and suddenly he’s thrown violently to the forefront of Yuji’s mind. His trump card, wasted. He hadn’t considered the potential consequences, it had been instinctual and foolish of him. The girl didn’t know who he was, but he wanted to speak to her all the same. He would make her know. He cannot stumble, he cannot falter, not when she’s right there and all he has to do is show her, “Y/n,” He murmurs. “That’s not Yuji,” She frowns, her voice soft, “That’s-” Before the two can react Sukuna is on his knees before her, holding her hands in his and hiding against her soft clothing. “I’ve…” Gojo trails off, “I’ve never seen that before,” The girl doesn’t let him go, and he feels her power reach into him, feeling around in the darkest parts of his soul, “My Queen,” He mutters, feeling the metaphysical chains around his heart tighten, “Please, remember,”

A fast surge of energy from Gojo causes the man on his knees before you to react just as quickly, pulling you tighter against him and then seemingly teleporting out the open door into the clearing, “It’s rude to attack ROYALTY!” He roars as Gojo steps out the door after the pair of you. Sukuna has planted himself firmly between the two of you, “You sorcerers never learn manners!” Something happens when your skin next touches his, his hand shooting out to catch you by your wrist as you fail to keep your balance.

A flood of memories that don’t belong to you, in fact, ones that belong to him. You see yourself, weak and frail but smiling widely, Sukuna as he is in front of you now not as he is described in sorcerer texts. A regular human man with an abnormal amount of tattoos, fiercely protective and full of love for the only person who still sees him as human. You vaguely feel yourself fall to your knees as everything from the day he was exiled to the day you died returned to your mind. You knew that despite the life you had lived for twenty years, you were in fact over a thousand years old.

This wasn’t your life, this wasn’t your body, it was hers, but you are her. You can feel the chains, too, the ones he put there the day you died to ensure that you would return. “The world took her from me, and the world paid the price, now BACK OFF!” His words shake you out of your visions, his hand still clutching your wrist as your head hangs weakly.

“Come now, Sukuna, taking hostages isn’t your style, you know that,” Gojo bargains, “Let her go, and we can fight like men,” You shake your head, “No,” You murmur, “No, Gojo,” You finally look up into his eyes, slightly uncovered as he prepares to fight, “He’s right, I know who I am, I know where my clan comes from,” He doesn’t make a move towards you and you take the opportunity to speak again, “My mother was blessed, her child would calm the beast, but she had two and one was weak in body strong in energy, the other was lacking in energy but strong of body,” Your sister had been the one the clan records mentioned, nobody remembered the girl who died alone in Ryomen Sukuna’s arms.

“I am the Queen to Ryomen Sukuna’s King,” You breathe, feeling his grip on your wrist go lax. His energy dies away and he falls to his hands and knees, but the tattoos are gone. “Yuji!” Gojo’s shoulders finally relax and he recovers his eyes, “What happened? How did he get through?” “Don’t ignore me, Satoru,” You state firmly, “Sukuna will not be a threat while I am alive,” “Can you guarantee that?” He’s always been intimidating, but this man was a part of your training as a sorcerer, and he can be rational when he wants to be.

“You’re an imbecile if you think I’m going to go back on a binding vow,” Sukuna spits from Yuji’s cheek, the boy not even having a chance to get a word in, “She is the only thing in this forsaken world I care about and you’re not about to take that away from me just so you can pretend like you’re the saviour of humanity,” You don’t remember ever being as harsh as Sukuna is right now, but his rage fills you with confidence and admiration, “I can guarantee humans will not fall as long as I am alive, his vow makes sure of it, though I’m sure he would not need it either way,”

The secondary eye on Yuji’s cheek closest to you locks its gaze onto you, “Ever so cunning, I wish I’d had the chance to nurture your hatred towards the village, maybe you’d be more open to killing,” He sounds almost wistful, “But alas, I did make a promise, and I intend to keep it, no matter how idiotic I think you sorcerers are,” You finally move to stand back on your feet, helping Yuji up with a tentative smile, “It’s nice to meet you Itadori,” You murmur, “I’m sorry you have to listen to that punk, you come to me if he gives you trouble alright?” The boy nods, his previously cheery demeanour replaced with something mellower and he seems deep in thought as he looks into your eyes.

“He really loves you,” He murmurs in disbelief, “I didn’t… I didn’t think he was truly capable of love, after what he did to me,” You shrug, “It’ll make sense one day, but I’ll let him be the one who opens up, it’s not my place to air out thousand year old dirty laundry with people who are long dead anyway,” Your words hang in the air as Gojo finally sighs. The discussion and conclusion are finalised when he leaves, Yuji will live with you and you will suppress Sukuna’s energy. You will keep the world safe by preserving your life, lest another binding vow come down upon your departing soul and the King of curses be forced to unleash his merciless fury once more.

Sukuna is a little shit and out of character because it’s my fic and I get to write the male love interest however I want (I tried besties :( I don’t like mean Sukuna but I do love “I hate everyone but you” so that’s what you get) also I wrote this instead of sleeping at 2am, the brainrot is real and this will probably end up being a series because I can’t control myself

Part 2 here!

Post dividers from @cafekitsune

[artbyblastweave]

So for those of you who don't read twenty-year-old marvel comics a lot, the 2005 Marvel Crisis Crossover was called House of M. The basic premise of this was that this was smack dab in the middle of the Scarlet-Witch-is-Having-a-Normal-one arc that was very, very loosely adapted into Wandavision; in her initial breakdown, she'd killed several of the Avengers, wound up in the protective custody of Magneto, and the recently reformed team was debating whether or not they were going to have to kill her before she deleted reality on accident or some such thing. But when they're on their way to Magneto's stronghold to have a "talk" with her, the world is enveloped in white, and Wolverine (the initial POV character) wakes up in a world where Mutants are 98% of the human population and have been for decades, and Magneto and his family (the titular House of M) are leaders of the global political order, and Wolverine is one of the only people in this realigned world who remembers that it was ever different.

Wolverine initially is operating under the assumption that Magneto cajoled Wanda into rewriting reality in his family's favor, but after rounding up and waking up several of his allies, he realizes that what actually happened is that Wanda rewrote reality so that everyone she knew would get everything they wanted- Magneto being in charge with a 98 percent global mutation rate is just the inevitable byproduct of that. The resulting world is an amalgamation that has to accommodate the conscious or subconscious "perfect life" of every superhero on earth, in a way that acts as a fascinating characterization tool, often with a monkey's-paw angle. Spider-Man is a beloved celebrity wrestler, and Uncle Ben and Gwen are both alive, but he attained that status by pretending to be a Mutant and he lives in constant fear of being exposed. Mystique, Rogue, Nightcrawler and several of their associates are the tight-knit family unit they were always kept from being.... as the elite jackboot of Magneto's regime. Luke Cage and Hawkeye lead the human resistance, standing in perpetual principled opposition to the powers that be, but with no real hope of accomplishing anything. Captain America didn't lose years of his life to the ice, but he had to live through a global authoritarian takeover he ultimately couldn't do anything about. Wolverine gets to remember his entire life, but that includes remembering that his current ideal circumstances were manufactured to keep him placated. And on and on and on. Lot of really interesting character takes packed up in there, paired with the equally interesting project of packing as many of them as possible into the same timeline without contradicting each other- after all, from the word go you have to contort everyone's happiness around the basic conceit that Magneto rules the world.

Anyway. House of M AU for Worm. Discuss.

[symbriocke]

relationship: sal deluca/tommy kinard additional tags: au - pre-canon; friends with benefits; casual sex; secret relationship; closeted characters; hurt/comfort; angst; smut; tommy pov rating: explicit words: 20,479 chapters: 6/6 - COMPLETE!

[read on ao3]

“You still owe me that fifty from last time,” Tommy lifts an eyebrow, a smug smirk on his face. He takes another sip of his beer, watching intently as Sal mirrors him from where he’s leaning against the counter in Tommy’s kitchen. 

“One for the road,” Sal had said, and that has turned into another hour of the pair shooting the shit, laughing over half-finished sentences and old stories from calls they’d worked, some together, some at different firehouses. 

“Fuck outta here,” Sal exclaims, voice booming in the tiny kitchen and Tommy nearly folds over laughing. “That was fucking fixed and you know it, asshole−” he cuts himself off with a surprised laugh, watching the way Tommy’s still giggling at his exaggerated outrage, the two of them feeding off each others’ near-hysterical energy as they have been doing all night. 

“Seriously, get out of here.” Sal says in a softer voice. He pulls another long swig and sets the bottle down a little too roughly, and it slips and rolls off, ending up in the sink. 

Tommy leans over to see that it’s still intact, and then looks back at Sal and laughs again, quieter this time. “You’re so full of it.”

“I am?” Sal challenges him with a raised eyebrow, taking a step closer, with that almost-feral signature grin of his plastered on his face, his blue eyes shining with mirth. “I’m full of it?”

It’s ridiculous. He’s − ridiculously attractive. 

Tommy’s usually better at maintaining his composure around Sal, but he’s had one too many tonight; it’s been a good night, and he’s feeling free and loose and he thinks he’s allowed to spend a little bit of time with his eyes glued to his best friend’s beautiful face. 

He’s not sure how it happened, but one day he’d looked at Sal Deluca and realised he’s drop dead gorgeous, and he knows it, too; it’s so obvious in the way he walks and talks, he knows just how good-looking he is, and maybe that bit of arrogance is part of his charm that has women vying for his attention. But tonight, they’re hanging out at Tommy’s apartment, and he’s the sole recipient of Sal’s attention, and he’s a little drunk on it − maybe it’s not just the alcohol in his veins. 

It had taken him a while to realise his feelings towards Sal were less than platonic. There hadn’t been many men that drew him in like that, Tommy thinks, and there was a part of him that always knew that he didn’t like women the way he liked men, but he’d done such a good job burying those feelings deep deep down, that it had caught him by surprise, when they’d resurfaced from his unconscious mind. He’d spent some time trying to shake it off but it seemed like the crush wasn’t going anywhere, so he just let it linger at the back of his mind, simmering under the surface; it’s not like it was harming anyone. On better days, he thinks that Sal wouldn’t even care, he’d be fucking flattered, if anything, a guy with an ego that size. 

“You talk a lot of shit,” Tommy says with a tilt of his head. “You should put your mouth to better use one of these days.”

The words slip out of his mouth before he can bite them back, and it’s entirely too flirty, too obvious. There’s that weight like an anchor in his gut again, but try as he might he can’t tear his gaze away from Sal’s, as if to do so would be admitting defeat. Tommy brings the bottle to his lips again, swallows the last few drops of the pale ale, moreso to stop himself from saying something worse. 

But then Sal’s face twists into something new, his mouth pulling into a lopsided smirk as he takes another step forward, and says, “What, like sucking you off?” 

[continue reading on ao3]

[ryleigh130]

Frostbite- - - ryleigh130

Summary- reader gets hypothermia on a mission and the boys help warm them up.

Relationships- platonic!taskforce 141 & gn!reader

Characters- cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

Word count- 2.2k

Warnings- hypothermia, profanity, 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

Note- This is my first ever fanfiction written on here so please leave me suggestions on how to improve! This story is inspired by the creator @python333 so go and check out their work it’s absolutely amazing! If you would like to leave a request for me to do a specific prompt feel free to message me! That’s it, thank you and I hope you enjoy! <33

It’s. Fucking. Cold. The three words repeat in your mind over and over again as you consider voicing your complaints to the team for what had to be the 8th time in the last 30 minutes. You couldn’t help it, it was cold. Freezing actually, you and the others were assigned a mission in the middle of butt fuck nowhere Siberia so excuse you for being cold.

To make matters worse for you, you’re the only 141 member currently suffering the biting cold as you were the one who drew the short end of the stick and got put on sniper duty whilst the others get to enjoy the warmth of actually being in the building they’re trying to get the info from.

With that thought, you sigh and shift your position slightly from where you are laying looking through the scope on your M107. It wouldn’t be so bad if you were actually moving around but instead, you’ve been laying in the same position, in the snow, for around 3 hours and you’re starting to loose feeling in your fingers and toes.

“[c/n], how copy” your radio sparks to life as the gruff, British accent of your Captain comes through.

“Still fucking cold, are we almost done here? I’m freezing my balls off out here” you groan, tentatively flexing your fingers trying to spark life back into them.

A low chuckle is heard over the radio as you can practically hear Price roll his eyes from where he is positioned, “you’ve mentioned. But yes, as soon as Soap plants the bombs we should be good to go. How’s it looking Soap?” A clicking can be heard over the radio when suddenly the loud, Scottish voice of John “Soap” MacTavish booms through,

“Aye Cap’n, jist aboot done” you hear another click and a hushed exclaim of victory, “Aw set!” You practically let out a cry of relief at the thought of going back to the safe house and getting warm,

“Took you long enough!” Gaz’ teasing voice pipes up before promptly getting shut up,

“Oh shut it you bawbag” Soap’s voice is light as you hear their footsteps going down the halls to escape the building. You watch through the scope of your rifle making sure to keep an eye out for any rouge enemies that might be hanging around the building the team was gathering the info from. You see Gaz leave the building first, followed by Price and finally Soap. You frown slightly, waiting a few moments before radioing,

“Ghost, how copy” you wait a few seconds before radioing in again, this time sounding more worried, “Ghost, ho-“ before you could finish your sentence, Ghost’s voice, accompanied by the sounds of gunshots filter through

“Solid copy.” He grunts out “I’ve got a few on my tail now but I’m taking care of it” you hear more gunshots as you look through your scope trying to spot Ghost’s form. Suddenly, an alarm rings through the building, you watch as dozens of enemy soldiers flood into the building your team once occupied,

“Fuck Ghost, incoming” you manage to warn before you hear Price’s loud and commanding voice boom,

“Ghost! Get out of there now! We need to detonate this thing now!” You hear Ghost reply with a short grunt. You watch as Ghost’s body runs out from the quickly populating building spraying round after round at accompanying enemies following. You try and help the best you can picking off as many enemies as possible before you hear Soap’s shout,

“CLEAR!” And with that, the building goes up in flames. You duck your head from where you’re positioned to avoid the ash and debris from the burning building,

“All Bravos, how copy?” You hear Price’s voice through the slight ringing of your ears,

A chorus of “Solid, copy”’s respond to the Captain, including your own as you begin to pack your weapon up to head out.

“Brilliant, alright everyone good work. Let’s regroup at the safe house 5 clicks from this position.” A murmur of approvals ring through the coms as you absentmindedly hum your approval and mute your radio. You finish packing up your gear when you hear a twig snap somewhere close by. You perk up and draw your M18 from where it’s positioned in the small holster on your thigh. As quiet as a mouse you sneak through the snowy brush to where the noise originated, peaking through the tree line your heart sinks to the bottom of your stomach as you see a squadron of about 9 soldiers approaching your position.

Fuck me. You practically groan, you know you won’t be able to take them all down at the same time so you do the only sensible option, you run. Expertly navigating through the snowy taiga, you run, duck, and jump over the obstacles in front of you. You can hear the pounding of footsteps behind you and the whizzing of bullets flowing past your body, barely missing their target. You run until your lungs burn and your eyes water from the cold air. You look around seemingly cornered by the enemy soldiers and the barren landscape when you spot it. A frozen over lake and possibly your one chance at survival, without a chance to second guess yourself, you’re running towards the lake. You hear yelling in the distance followed by more gunshots as you continue towards the lake. You reach the shoreline and tentatively put your body weight on the ice, judging by the fact it didn’t immediately crack, you take the risk and start sliding toward the other side. Luckily you are small and light enough to be able to tread across the slippery surface. You look over your shoulder to see the soldiers staring at you and continuing to try and shoot you. Before you could react, a stray bullet embeds into the icy surface and a loud crack and be heard. You look down in terror as the ice begins to crack and splinter. With a new objective in mind, you quicken your pace to the reach the other side of the frozen lake.

It’s too late. You’re about 3/4ths of the way when the ice suddenly relents under your weight and you get plunged into the deep icy depths of the water. The icy water causes your body to immediately freeze and jolt in pain as the below freezing water feels like pins and needles getting pushed into your skin slowly. You sink toward the bottom of the frozen pool before your mind catches up with your body and a gasp of air leaves your mouth. You’re choking on the icy water as you struggle against the cold, slowly and painfully you make your way back towards the surface. Your head emerges from the water first, then followed by your hands as you desperately try and grab onto something to be able to drag yourself out of the water. You can’t get a grip on the slippery surface causing you to gasp and sink back into the water, kicking your feet one final time you propel yourself out of the water and onto the ice. With the last bit of your remaining energy you fling yourself to the safety of solid ground on the other side of the lake.

You lay on the snowy ground shivering violently. You look out at the side of the lake where you came from and notice the soldiers were gone, must’ve thought I was a goner, you think bitterly. You don’t have time to reminisce on it as the wind picks up and reminds you that you are currently shivering, wet, and unable to feel your own body. Weakly, you try and turn on your radio to signal for help. You almost cry when you realize it’s gone, you must’ve lost it when you fell in. Coughing violently, you shakily get on your feet, stumbling once, then twice, you manage to stand and take unsteady steps towards where you assume the safe house should be.

The hike takes longer than it should’ve as you continuously stumbled and fell, taking longer than you care to admit to get back up and continue. It’s around 1700 judging by the just setting sun, when the small cabin comes into view. You almost weep in relief when you see it, you pick up your pace into a small run and, promptly fall down face first into the snow. You lay in the snow no longer shivering as your body begins to shut down, No! Not like this, I’m right there! You feel yourself thinking. You feel as if you hear a noise that resembles a door opening and voices yelling but you chalk that up to your imagination as your vision slowly fades into black. With one last tired breath you close your eyes and let the warmth take over you.

When you wake up, you’re burning, and not in a nice way. You feel as if your skin is on fire and is about to melt off your bones. It hurts, painfully so and you make sure to vocalize your discomfort with a pained screech. You try moving your body away from the burning heat but your muscles won’t respond to your brain so you can do nothing more then just let out pained screeches as tears flow down your face. Faintly you can hear hushed voices trying desperately to soothe you but you’re too out of it to notice. With one last screech you black out, in the back of your head you feel as if you can feel a hand card through your hair.

When you wake up again, the pain is still there but significantly lessened. You can feel yourself lying on what you assume to be a mattress with possibly the fluffiest blanket you’ve ever felt on top of you. You try opening your eyes, the light took adjusting to but after a moment you are able to look around the room where you are laying in. Almost immediately you spot the sleeping form of Captain John Price, he’s leaning back in the old wooden chair he’s on with his mouth open in a soft snore. His hand is laying on your covered leg comfortably, he looks tired and worried like he hasn’t slept in a good while. You look around the room trying to figure out where you are before you make yourself known. With a small clearing of your throat Price violently jerks awake and stares at you for a moment before he moves into action,

“Jesus Christ you’re awake!” He states as he starts to worry over you. He gently takes his hand and puts it over your forehead, frowning at what he feels, he moves toward yours eyes. With a flashlight he checks your eyes and nods once before setting the flashlight back aside. Once he finishes his initial exam, he surges forwards and wraps you in a tight embrace,

“NEVER do that again, you hear me?!” He started firmly, his voice laced with clear worry and concern. You chuckle lowly and rasp out,

“My bad, next time I wanna take a quick dip in the pool I’ll wait until summer.” This obviously was the wrong response as Price fixes you with a firm glare,

“I’m serious [c/n]! Do you have any idea how worried we were! First, you were MIA for 2 hours! Then, you show up DRENCHED in −5 °C weather! And THEN, we find you face down in the bloody snow! [y/n] we thought you were dead!” He scolds. You look down with a light blush of shame tinting your cheeks but before you could apologize, the door slams open causing you and Price to jump. In rushes both Soap and Ghost as they storm over to your bedside. Soap grabs your hand and holds it to his face,

“Steamin Jesus kid, ye gave us quite the scare there.” He says into your palm, Ghost approaches his side and stares at you in worry,

“How are you feeling?” He asks. You open your mouth to respond when suddenly footsteps echo through the hall and Gaz comes barreling into the room.

“[c/n]!” He rushes to your bedside and pulls you into a tight hug,

“Gaz! Quit it! Ye gonna hurt the lad” Soap scolds immediately as Gaz pulls away sheepishly with a muttered apology. You take a moment to gather your thoughts before looking back up at the team you consider family.

“M’sorry” you mutter out, tears threatening to fall, “they- they came so quickly and and I tired to run but I couldn’t lose ‘em so I tried to cross the lake but then they shot at it and I fell in and itwassocold-“ your rambling coming to a stop when a firm hand lands on your shoulder. You look up to see Price, Ghost, Gaz, and Soap staring at you with an unreadable expression.

“Hey, hey kid. It’s ok, it’s ok. You’re safe now” Price soothes gently. “It’s gonna be alright we’re here.” He continues giving you a soft look. You nod looking at your shaking hands when suddenly clothed hands cover your own. You look at Ghost as he warms your still cold hands with his own, you feel a hand in your hair and smile as you lean into Price’s touch. Soap and Gaz bring up a chair next to your bedside and sit close to you, protectively shielding your body from further harm. With the team you consider family so close to you, you give into your quickly tiring eyes and fall into a deep, comfortable sleep.

[3noa3]

Beautiful flowers are meant to be admired

Sypnosis:

Reincarnating into Teyvat you never expected to be a model, or a top one at that.

Unfortunately, things are not what they seem.

A/n:

I would like to thank @shizukano for letting me use their idea from this post.

—

[You never wanted this.]

Keeping your head low you made sure to follow your guard as he pushed through the crowd.

“Miss Y/n, please look here!” A paparazzi shouts, though you can't tell from where you can assume he is behind one of the many flashes blinding you.

“Miss Y/n, how do you feel about the rumors?” An eager reporter tries to squeeze pass your guards, notepad in hand.

“P/n!”

Hearing someone call out your player name made your raise your head in a panic. Desperately searching the crowd for the whoever said it was futile with your actions doing nothing but serve as fuel for whatever narrative these reporters would spin.

Yet you couldn't help but notice a blur of pink hair before your guards moved you along.

[It feels so suffocating.]

Head low you can feel the deafening silence as your heart beats out of your chest.

“Y/n what the hell did you think you were doing?”

Your manager, a once close friend now seethes with barely contained rage.

“I-i didn't mean to offend anyone. They said it was a free time and—”

“Don't make excuses!” He shouts, slamming the wooden desk. “Was it so hard to stay in one place?!”

This was your first time visiting Inazuma after you were brought to Teyvat. You just wanted to enjoy the sceneries between all the photoshoots and meetings.

You never expected that the head of Yashiro commission would suddenly visit during one of your escapades.

“The Yashiro commission finds your lack of proper work etiquette to be unfit for them. They're canceling the collaboration.”

“B-but—.”

“Don't but me, get out and pack your stuff we'll continue this talk back in Fontaine.”

Filled with shame you meekly walk out of his office, though you swear you saw a blur of blonde hair peek around a corner your troubled mind simply blurred it out.

[Somebody help.]

…You were invited by your favorite character to go out.

Honestly you shouldn't have gone but with stress piling up you could barely deny yourself a chance to let loose and meet someone you held dearly in your heart.

So you went out without telling anyone, reached the arranged meeting area and…

[Pov: ___]

They couldn't believe it.

After so long they finally had you in their arms.

The other needed wanted you for themselves too but they got to you first.

You were so hard to lure out by yourself you know? Then again that incident with those stalkers of yours must have made you wary.

It certainly made them seethe, but now you're here. Protected from the dangers outside and where you could be admired like the beautiful flower you are.

Fin~

SPECIAL BONUS ENDINGS FOR CHARLOTTE AND AYATO

[Pov: Charlotte.]

She always disliked those reporters who reported falsely.

Giving fake news and always trying to stir up drama.

Especially when she learned that you were being targeted by them. That poor look of yours as you were hounded by them, after confirming it really was you she made sure to tear them down.

Each one of their secrets were dug up and shown into the world, not one was safe after bringing such a pitiful look in your face.

So please don't look at her with such eyes, can't you see she was just trying to protect you?

[Pov: Ayato.]

If there was one thing Ayato disliked the most it would be unruly subordinates.

They would usually be taught better or taken out of their position but he never expected one to slip through the cracks just so they can cancel your collaboration.

So you can rest assured as Ayato never hated you, not once. Though he wasn't above using this as a reason to lure you out as an apology.

No need to stress yourself out anymore. See? The perpetrator is being punished right there.

Now, you will get along with him Ayaka, and Thoma, right?

[sarahsmi13s]

Telling Them

pairing: jake ‘hangman’ seresin x wife!reader

characters: jake seresin, y/n seresin, grayson seresin, kennedy seresin, dagger squad, penny benjamin, dr andrews

warnings: third person pov, she/her pronouns used, language, car crash mentioned, hospitals, mentions of surgey, mentions of family medical history (addiction to pain meds), talks of recovery methods, description of injuries, i believe that is it

word count: ~2.3k

a/n: 2/3 (this is a three part story -- however i might expand on it if you guys want)

loose summary: after nearly losing grayson, things are really put in perspective for jake and he realizes that the daggers are family too.

pt 1  pt 3

*******

“I think I wanna tell the squad.”

“What?” Y/N asked, except she heard him perfectly well.

Jake had just always wanted to keep his family private, it was how he protected them. Despite her wanting to get to know his coworkers, she respected her husband and understood where he was coming from. So his sudden confession confused her.

Jake sighed and held his wife’s hands. “I know, I know. I’ve always wanted to keep you and the kids private. But we could’ve lost Grayson today… We were having an emergency and you couldn’t get a hold of me or Javy. Then you apologized for coming to base to get me, you shouldn’t have to do that. Javy kinda knocked some sense into me earlier, said that the squad was worried when I left. A hoard of text on my phone confirmed that.” He took a deep breath.

“I want you and the kids to be able to lean on anyone on that team. I’ve trusted this team more than any other squadron I’ve been on.” “That’s saying something.” Jake chuckled, “Damn straight it is.”

He sighed, “I realized that if we had lost-” Emotion lumped in his throat. “If this had turned out any other way, they would have no idea that anything was wrong or why I wasn’t at work or why I was a bigger asshole than normal. I couldn’t mourn properly, because they would have no idea. And if I were to burn in…” He trailed off, but she knew what he was saying.

“So, I want you to meet them. I want them to get to know the kids. I want them to come to Grayson and Kennedy’s games. I want to expand the family, bring in a few strays.”

Y/N laughed, “Don’t let the princess hear you say that, she’ll think we’re getting a puppy.” Jake chuckled and kissed her knuckles, leaning his forehead on hers. “What do you say, my Queen?”

She nodded against him, “Let’s do it. But can it wait until we have Grayson at home? I’d hate for their first meeting to be in the hospital.” Jake nodded and kissed her forehead, “Of course, baby. Gives me time to drop subtle hints.”

Y/N pulled back, raising a brow, “You? Jacob Thomas Seresin, subtle? When are you ever subtle?” He rolled his eyes, “Hush.” Jake pecked her lips, “I’ll go get the doctor.” “Okay, I’ll give Javy and Mav a call, let them know he’s awake.”

Jake walked down the hall and Y/N took out her phone, calling Javy, not realizing what time it was.

“Hello?” “Javy- oh shit, did I wake you up?” “Yeah, but it’s fine. How’s Grayson?” She nodded, smiling, “He’s awake. He’s aware and is probably ready to get out of here.” “How’s Kennedy?” “She’s just glad to see that her brother’s awake,” she peaked in the window, seeing her daughter tucked under her son’s arm as she told him a story.

“How are you?” She sighed, “I’m better. Way better than before now that I know he’s okay. I’m just worried what this will mean for him. He’s already tried out and made the football team here, he probably won’t get to play this season, but it’s only his junior year so hopefully he’ll get to play his senior year.” “Hopefully he recovers like his mom,” Javy joked. She scoff laughed, “Yeah, fingers crossed.”

Javy sighed, “How’s Jake?” She bit her lip and looked down the hall in the direction her husband went. “Same as me, better now that he knows Grayson’s okay. But,” she took in a breath. “He wants to introduce the squad.”

Javy smiled on the other end, “When? Where? What time?” Y/N chuckled at her friend's enthusiasm. “Probably not until Grayson’s out of the hospital and is settled back at home with a routine. I’d hate for the first meeting to be in a hospital. Him being hurt isn’t ideal… but it helped put things into perspective for Jake. He’s so protective of his private life, has been since high school. We both know that.” Javy nodded.

“Hey, did Mav come by?” Coyote changed the subject. “Yeah, gave Jake the next few days off. He said he was gonna give subtle hints, but we know him.” Javy laughed, “Yes, yes we do.”

Y/N heard footsteps and looked to see Jake walking with the doctor. “I’ll let you go back to sleep, J.” “I’ll come by tomorrow after training,” he said, leaving no room for argument. “Okay, goodnight Javy.” “Goodnight, Y/N.” She hung up and sent Maverick a text.

Once the doctor and Jake got to her, they went into the room.

“Good to see you awake, Grayson. I’m Doctor Andrews. How are you feeling? Any pain?” Jake and Y/N went to the left side of the bed, Y/N’s hand lightly gripping her son’s.

“My ribs hurt a little, legs are definitely hurting,” Grayson told him, shifting a little.

Y/N moved over to the right side of the bed, “Kenni, come here sister.” She held her hands out as her daughter leaned into her brother. “Wanna stay with Gray…” Y/N sighed, “I know you do, Princess. But the doctor needs to make sure bubba’s okay. He can’t work around you, honey.”

Kennedy narrowed her (e/c) eyes at the doctor before looking back at her mom, “Is he nice?” Y/N smiled and nodded, “Yes, Kennedy, he’s nice.” The five year old sighed, “Okay.” She kissed her brother's cheek before holding her arms out for her mother. Y/N gathered her up and went back to Jake’s side, the little girl instantly wanting to go to her father.

They spent the rest of that time going over the treatment options and timelines.

“Okay, so we’re probably going to have to keep you here for about five days. Just to make sure everything’s okay. Do we have a preference for pain medication? Currently we’ve got you hooked up to morphine.” Grayson glanced at Y/N, not sure what to say. “We try to stay away from opioids as best we can. If it’s unavoidable then we understand.”

Doctor Andrews nodded, “Has anyone in the family had trouble with addictions in the past?” “No, not that we are aware of,” Jake answered. He nodded again, “Okay, so we’ll definitely look into our options and run them by you. Do you have any questions while I’m here?”

Y/N looked at her son, who shifted a little in the bed.

“Um… Sports? Will I ever get to play again? Or am I done?” Andrews sighed, “Well, everything will depend on the recovery. I’m afraid this football season, possibly basketball season, will have to miss you. But hopefully we can have you back by baseball season.”

“How long is the recovery?” “Four to six months for the femur, sometimes the ACL can take as long as nine, but everyone is different.” Grayson nodded. “Thank you, Doc.” He gave the Seresins a smile, “Of course, get some rest. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Grayson rubbed his face, groaning a little. “What is it?” Y/N asked. “It’s just – four to six months? Gosh, that sounds like forever.” “It’ll be over before you know it, kid. You just gotta work during the recovery,” Jake said, nodding down to Grayson’s legs that were in braces.

Moving curls out of his face, Y/N spoke, “Gray, we will be with you every step of the way. It’ll be hard, but you can do it.”

She gestured to her own leg, “I tore my ACL my sophomore year of high school, I get it. You’ll want to jump right back in once you’re healed, but you can’t. You have to be careful until you’re properly healed, because if you aren’t you might cause more damage. If your body tells you to rest, listen to it.” Grayson nodded, yawning a little, “Yes ma’am.” Smiling at her son, she kissed his forehead, “Get some rest. We’ll be here when you wake up.”

Jake smiled and ruffled his hair, adjusting Kennedy so she could kiss her brother’s cheek. “Night bubba.” “Night sister.”

********

Two days later, Jake was back on base and, since Grayson was only 16, Y/N stayed at the hospital with him. Kennedy stayed at Penny’s getting pampered by Amelia.

As expected, everyone asked Jake if everything was okay. He just nodded and went on as usual. Of course he was still worried, but he was a dad; it’s expected. But people took Jake at his word.

And Jake, in his best attempts to be subtle, had moved his wedding band from his truck to his dog tags and wore his watch lower on his left wrist, to show the initials tattooed there. He also didn’t try to hide his phone as much, knowing his friends were a little nosy.

“Hangman, is that your niece? She’s adorable, what’s her name?” Fanboy asked as he sat beside Jake at lunch. Jake just smiled, “Her name is Kennedy. We call her Ken or Kenni.”

“Wait, let us see!” Phoenix said, gesturing for him to turn the phone around. He proudly did so, showing everyone at the table his daughter. “How old is she?” Rooster asked as he washed down his food. “She’s five, she was about 3 in that photo though. Just popped up in my memories on Facebook.”

They were too busy fawning over how cute Kennedy was that they didn’t catch the dodged ‘niece’ question.

Now, the Dagger squad was not stupid and they were trained to notice things. But does that mean they caught everything? Absolutely not.

But, Bob, being ever the wallflower, noticed the tattoo the next day when Jake took off his watch to shower.

“Who’s ‘(f/i) S’?” Jake smiled and rubbed the pad of his thumb over the two letters. “Sorry, that-” “No, Bob, it’s okay. If I didn’t want you to see it, you wouldn’t have seen it.” The WSO relaxed, “I take it they mean a lot to you?” Jake decided to keep it vague, just for suspense, “They mean the world to me.” Bob smiled and clapped Jake on the shoulder before leaving the room.

*****

Four days into Grayson’s stay at the hospital and two days since Jake has been back at work, the squad went to the Hard Deck. But Jake wasn’t really there, his mind was on Y/N, Grayson, and Kennedy.

“Hey, Hangman, you okay?” Penny asked as she came over with his beer. “Yeah, yeah.” She arched a challenging brow and he caved. “Okay, maybe I’m still just a little shaken up. But Grayson’s okay, he’s coming home tomorrow. I just- Gah I don’t know…” Penny sympathetically smiled at him.

He changed the subject, “How’s Kennedy doing? She handlin’ it okay?” Penny nodded, “Yeah, Amelia is doing a good job at keeping her distracted. Tea parties, make-overs, the whole nine.” Jake smiled, “Yeah, Y/N’s shown me the photos.” “She keeps asking for Grayson though, she wants to visit him all the time. But if it’s past visiting hours they’ll face time.” He nodded, swallowing a little bit, “Yeah, that girl loves her brother. It’s-”

“Hangman! You ready to get your ass kicked?” Jake turned, “In your dreams, Fitch! Give me a minute!” He turned back to Penny, pulling his wallet out, “Close my tab, please. I’m heading out after this.”

Penny nodded and took the cash, gesturing to the squad “When are you gonna tell them?” He glanced back over his shoulder at the group before turning back, “Tonight, actually. Grayson comes home after an exam tomorrow afternoon. We plan on doing a cookout.” Penny smiled, “Good luck.” “Thanks,” he smiled and pushed off the bar, sauntering over to the squad.

He grabbed the pool cue offered and broke the triangle. “Hey, I’m heading out after this-” “What? You never leave first.” He just shrugged and lined up his shot, potting a solid. “As I was saying, I’m leaving after this. I was wondering if you guys were free this Saturday.” Cyclone, Warlock, and Mav knew Jake’s plan and gave everyone Saturday off.

The squad shared a look and nodded, saying they were free. “Yeah, why?” Jake smirked, eyes staying on the pool table, “My wife and I were planning to have a cookout, so I’m inviting you guys.” “Wife? You’re married?!” Rooster asked, choking on his drink. Jake nodded, “I believe I said wife. Didn’t I Coyote?” Coyote smirked as well, “Yeah, you did.”

Before anyone could ask ridiculous questions, Bob spoke up first, “How long have you been married?” “15 years in September,” Jake smiled, eyeing the gold band that was now on his finger. He’d put it on a few minutes ago while he waited for Penny to get his drink. “15? How have you kept it a secret for so long?” Fanboy asked. Jake shrugged, “When something’s mine I hate to share it.”

“Do you have kids?” Rooster asked. Jake nodded, “Yeah, two. A son, Grayson, and a daughter, Kennedy.” Their jaws dropped. “I thought she was your niece,” Payback asked. Jake shook his head, leaning down to take his shot, “Nope, never said that.”

Jake took a few more shots before sitting on a barstool while Payback took his. “So, are you guys in or what? I need to know how much food to get.” They all nodded. “I can’t believe you let me drown in testosterone when you had a little girl and a wife. I don’t think I could ever forgive you,” Phoenix said, crossing her arms while narrowing her eyes. “I’ll learn to live with that.”

Bob spoke up again, a little more hesitant this time. “What happened last Saturday?” Jake sighed and stood up, “Grayson was in a car accident.” 

When everyone jumped to ask questions,  he held his hands up. 

“He’s okay. But he’s been in the hospital the past few days for observation, but he’s coming home tomorrow. The cookout is really for you guys to come meet them and get to know them a little bit. Y/N didn’t want y’all to meet in the hospital.”

The group nodded, “We’re in.”

**********

hiiiii! i’m happy you’re here! 

the squad knows now! how do you think the cookout is going to go? what might happened when the squad learns grayson is a 16 year-old? 

i hope you enjoyed this part two! i have one more part to post and will hopefully get it out in a timely fashion

if you want to be notified of up coming parts comment and i can add you to the tag list! and if you want to be added to top gun tag list lmk! <33

thank you for reading!

top gun tags <33: @roosterscockpit @luckyladycreator2 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @sebsxphia​ @milesdickpic​

thank you guys for being here!!!

[vetinarivimesy]

Kenobi-centric fic recs

Everything here will heavily feature Obi-Wan Kenobi in some fashion, and will vary wildly by ship, tone, and fic-type though I'll do my best to give little blurbs/not-too-spoilery summaries.

The fics range from gen to explicit, in some cases pre-date tagging ettiquette, and, no, no I have not re-read them all (ye gods have you seen the word counts).

In a few cases I'm basing my summaries on very hazy memory and I have a noted bad habit of skimming straight past explicit porn when I don't want to read it, then forgetting its there entirely - so caveat lector!

These are mostly fics that I currently mentally catalogue as Wonderful Obvious Obi-Wan Kenobi Goodness fics rather than expecting to dig up any obscure hidden gems. The list would probably look very different on a different day. It's far from comprehensive, and the categories are loose at best. But here it is!

I've been contemplating putting something like this together for a while but been a bit nervous of sticking my head up above the metaphorical parapet. As, follows my fave character around without caring overmuch about the ship trash, I've got quite a list of Star Wars fics inhaled/rediscovered.

(Wee bit too used to coming into very dead fandoms long after everyone's left, put the chairs up on the tables, the metaphorical lights have been turned off... and the not so metaphorical bills have stopped being paid. More than once I've stumbled into a wonderful old fandom fic archive only for it to vanish into, Only What Was Saved on the Internet Archive Remains status. Even when the archive isn't actually an ex-archive, many don't actually allow for interaction. Apologies to the authors I've never worked up the courage to comment on, this is an explanation not an excuse!)

Obi-Wan's apprenticeship fics:

Commander Kenobi - norcumi (complete, 9646 words)

Obi-Wan gets de-aged in the midst of battle. Cody gets to find out what teenaged Obi-Wan was like. Given Obi-Wan thinks he's fresh out of Melida-Daan, nothing like whatever Cody might have been expecting.

A Town Called Stagnation - deniigiq (complete, 33,000 words)

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan take a trip to Stewjon, to let Obi-Wan get in touch with his roots post the horrorshow of his early apprenticeship. Smalltown thinking and the trauma of recent events clash horribly for everyone involved.

Another brilliant author who's whole fic-output is well worth checking out. Their wry utterly charming character voices never fail to amuse, even when the POV character is one I'm currently in an... actually I wouldn't mind some bashing of this guy kinda mood. I draw amusement and sympathy for Qui-Gon's character in every single one of their immediately post-Melida Daan fics for context here, with my knowledge of that event thoroughly warped and contaminated by the current popular fanon take on the matter too.

Though more Cody-centric, and thus Clone Wars era, than anything parallelogram (Complete, 33,000 words) and they're neutral (complete, 9900 words) by the same author are also wonderful.

poisoned chalice - qigiined (Complete, 9900 words)

Another author with the wit and deftness of characterisation to make immediately-post-Melida-Daan Qui-Gon's POV both amusing and sympathetic. They've also got quite a few other gems!

Qui-Gon's very wry POV as he tries to navigate raising a very traumatised child, and appeasing his various lineage members.

through hardships to the stars - kivaember (WIP, 148,000 words)

Canon divergence where Obi-Wan's apprenticeship snafu on Melida-Daan went just that much worse than those Legends-were-never-technically-canon novels would have it.

As a result Obi-Wan and a very young Jango Fett end up on the run from a terrifying darksider, whilst Jaster Mereel and Feemor despearately try to catch up with the pair.

Little Lights Stories - ms_nawilla (WIP, 628,000 words)

Qui-Gon neglected too much of Obi-Wan's training, so Obi-Wan isn't immediately knighted post-Naboo despite saving Qui-Gon's life and defeating the Sith.

Anakin goes to the creche, Qui-Gon's in utter denial, and Obi-Wan begins the rocky process of finding his own feet post-Naboo, getting through the thorny process of working out who you are as your own person after living under someone else's oppressive shadow for far too long.

Super detailed epic detailing all sorts of wonderful possible jedi-culture headcanons, illuminated manuscripts! beer! force-manipulation games! communal caring! crystallography! sex ed! old-people's homes! the engineers! clerical branch! outreach via art! dance instruction! reincarnation! politics! spies! terrible james bond esque spy films to hide that the spies were really real! lightsaber classes! non-jedi temple residents! U and L leaning prejudice! Alderaan!

Just what would happen if Qui-Gon Jinn were exactly the sort of irresponsible unpleasant adult who should never ever be given a child a lot of fandom suspects he is. His implied treatment of Obi-Wan here can be fairly harrowing, for all that its emotional neglect rather than anything graphic.

The jedi are never depicted as anything less than trying their best, unfortunately no matter how thorough the system tries to be, sometimes people do just fall through the cracks. As was v.nearly the case for Obi-Wan in this verse.

Mostly character driven, though the hints of the greater plot bubbling away underneath all of this glorious worldbuilding and character growth are both ominous and intriguing. The pairing is a hell of a spoiler, but also one that could potentially be a bit of a squick, I don't want to spoil the slowburn of this thing but I do want to give fair warning. Does tumblr offer spoiler tags?

Preventing Order 66 fics:

When Duty is Done - thosenearandfarwars (WIP, 257,000 words)

Wonderful long-form piece - technically a WIP but all installments so far are complete - a what happens next post-Palp's getting his comeuppance, messily. Features Codywan, grief, internalised ableism, jedi order reforming in a very nuanced 'we were this close to the brink' and lost so many people to the war sense *not* the sneaky 'jedi-positive but actually bashing' sense.

Hell I wholeheartedly reccie just about everything this author's ever done tbh!

(This Too Was a Gift (Complete, 69,000 words) is also utterly wonderfully done, and a complete fic in a similar vein, albeit much more focused on the ramifications for individual characters than the ensemble cast of thousands that is Star Wars.)

I Got My Head Checked - frostbitebakery (Complete, 79,000 words)

Codywan Sith!Obi-Wan AU. Cody falls for the hot Sith in the next cell...

Light of the Mists- Snowy Egret Chimes of Kyber, Songs of Kyber, and Anthem of Kyber (Complete, 166,000 words)

This one technically also fits the Obi-Wan's apprenticeship category too. Bit of an epic of, what would happen if Obi-Wan never made it to Bandomeer, and instead trained under a force sect with rather different ideas about how things worked than the modern jedi order?

Supreme Chancellor Obi-Wan Kenobi - stonefreeak (WIP, 113,000 words)

Wonderful crackfic premise done mostly seriously. (WIP)

By an extremely obscure bit of Senate Legalise, Obi-Wan finds himself thrust into the role of Supreme Chancellor. Palpatine is furious.

How A Romance Novel Saved The Galaxy - Ariana Deralte (WIP, 184,000 words)

The galaxy takes a left turn when a popular novel takes the world by storm, and the Jedi and Mandalorians mutually discover their two cultures aren't so different after all...

sanguine - glimmerglanger (complete, 158,000 words)

In which Obi-Wan being a vampire, with all the nasty prejudices that come with being a non-human in the GFFA, somehow saves the galaxy.

Just Go Kill Palpatine - nevertheless_turtle (WIP, 6662 words though this is likely an underestimate due to formatting of a wonderful epistolary/OutsiderPOV social-media-centric chapter)

Just as the title says. Obi-Wan goes and attempts to do just that. Wonderful and hilarious.

The More I Live the More I See this Life is Not About Me - K_R_Closson

Another de-aged Obi-Wan fic. In which post-Melida-Daan suspicious of everyone and everything Kenobi somehow fixes things. Everyone around Obi-Wan is suitably horrified by the news of just what his apprenticeship under Qui-Gon entailed.

Not Quite Sure How to Catergorise these...

This category is the equivalent of the draw marked 'misc.' sorry! Mostly a mix of action/adventure stuff and fics I suspect will turn into, and they prevented order 66 fix-its, but maybe not, with some other truly misc. things thrown in.

backdrop - esama (Complete, 2300 words)

Short and sweet self-contained little tale. Very succinct, but what the author does with those words...

Gunslinger's Paean - Idiot's Array + Homeworld Elegy - Ashcroft_Writes (WIP, 299,000 words)

Epic, what if Obi-Wan post-Rako Hardeen paired up with Cad Bane action adventure tale. Mistrust. Violence. Gunslinging. Espionage. Murder attempts galore!

We Brothers, We Sisters, We Vod'e Few - infinitecompositions(WIP, 322,000 words)

Hell of a fic. WIP. What if canon were to take just a step to the left... Post-Naboo Obi-Wan finds himself recruited for the Shadows branch of the jedi order...

Another epic, cough, can you tell what style I like yet? Uh, starts off as a bit of a dark action adventure romp, rapidly morphs into a detailed dissection of spy-craft, espionage, and galactic politics - but becomes no less tense for it.

Kneading - Threebea O (WIP, 79,000 words)

Manages the miraculous trick of being canon, whilst seeming to be a fluffy bakery AU for a significant chunk of the first few chapters.

Jango/Obi - Jango falls for a local baker whilst hanging out in small town with Boba. Increasingly important to the fate of the galaxy shenanigans inevitably ensue when aforementioned baker turns out to be Obi-Wan Kenobi undercover.

Be Your Love - glimmerglanger (complete, explicit, 9000 words)

I tend not to go for 'real world' AUs but this author's work is so very excellent that I'm reccieing this one - hell I think most of their work is well worth a look through, and every fic-genre they've attempted has proven very fun indeed.

Heed the tags. Explicit Codywan BDSM stuff contained within.

Wizard of the Jundland Wastes - phoenixyfriend (complete, 3200 words)

Obi-Wan on Tatooine, outsiderPOV.

One of many wonderful Star Wars fics this author has written. If this one doesn't catch your fancy, one of their many delightful utterly bizarre premise taken to logical conclusion fics probably will.

Father of the Year (Not) - phoenixyfriend (complete, 2430 words)

Obi-Wan and Jango find out they're each other's soulmates. Mostly they're furious.

Wonderful very pointed skewering of all the usual soulmate and Jango is actually a decent dude tendencies in fic-writing.

Time Travel fics:

I thought I fought this war alone - stonefreeak (Complete, 3783 words)

Wonderful short and sweet Obi-Wan time travelling to his padawan days fix-it.

this is unexpected - MarbleGlove (Complete, 4461 words)

Very succinct and perfect with it time travel what if. Old Ben Kenobi goes back in time and immediately ruins Palpatine's day.

This author tends to be delightful no matter the fandom.

The Sun Swings East - kj_feybarn (Complete, 33,000 words)

Brilliantly done timeloop story of woe and hope. As much about recovery as the initial plot-driven despair. Mind the tags, Obi-Wan is understandably severely depressed throughout much of this fic.

The Making of Mavericks - AppoApples (complete, 146,000 words)

It was extremely difficult to choose just the one time travel fic from this author. Their output is wonderfully varied, don't like their particular take on the Jedi Order and/or the Mandalorians in this fic? Pick another, and odds are they'll have explored the concept from precisely the opposite angle.

This author has a wonderful exploratory sense of, okay okay, so how do we fix this thing/how do we make it worse?

In this case, Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, Cody, and Rex time travel to the past. This creates broad sweeping changes to the timeline, not always for the better.

The Desert Storm (complete, 1,144,599 words) & Rise and Fall series (WIP, 396,000 words) - Blue_Sunshine (WIP)

Wonderful epic-length time-travel fic. Highly recommended. Technically a WIP, but what there is already is well worth the time.

Ben Kenobi, now Nasaade, in utter furious despair finds himself back in time, pre, well, everything. He decides to take matters into his own hands and change things.

Gorgeous character-work, where by the end of the piece the characters are all in very different places than where they started out. And you utterly believe the growth (positive and negative) that got them there.

Draws from both legends and canon in a bit of a hodgepodge approach - despite drawing from a few of the more leaning towards the jedi were the bad guys sources in legends, impressively manages to tread a nuanced stance on, okay so what if the jedi and mandalorians did decide to start reforming in the face of this grave existential threat that's been brought to their attention?

Wonderful utterly enviable pacing - I know this one's extremely long. But at no point do you ever feel/notice the length when reading this thing.

It Was Another Time and I Another Man - Pell_Binterhol (WIP, 196,000 words)

Multiple Kenobis time travelling. Absolute chaos for absolutely everyone else; fellow time travellers, fellow Kenobis, and plotting Sith alike.

the massive machinery of hope - Killbothtwins (Complete, 150,000 words)

Obi-Wan travels back to his padawan days and annoys everyone else into helping him save the day. Wonderful sense of wry humour throughout this fic.

Living Memory - elsa3beth (WIP, 363,000 words)

Epic very detailed wonderful fic detailing just what General Kenobi would do if he had to fight the war again.

Deals with just what could happen if Anakin had ever had to face his fellow jedi with even a few of his flaws laid bare, and the fallout.

Meanwhile, Obi-Wan, just barely managing to hold himself together, fresh out of the middle of his exile to Tatooine, is desperately playing four-dimensional chess against Palpatine and trying to use the awful structure of the Republic's Army to save both the Jedi and the Clones.

The 212th Attack Battalion's Guide to Saving the Galaxy by Accident - antigrav_vector & quarra (WIP, 783,000 words)

Long, character driven fic that's an incredibly fun take on just what might happen if Obi-Wan and a bunch of Ghost Company stumbled into Jaster Mereel's True Mandalorians and get themselves adopted. Heed the tags wrt pairings!

All the complications that come from being an adult stuck as an apparent child ensue. From being squicked out about being a kid again, to having other people being concerned that a kid is behaving like an adult, to just... time travel complications, kidnapping, force esoterica, and fighting a small war.

Plenty of Jedi thoughtfully staring at this strange miniature jedi master, lots of Mandalorians being both stunned and horrified by these tiny soldiers, and Dooku/Sifo-Dyas being a surprisingly lovely central pairing.

Not Qui-Gon friendly in the least, and in this verse you can't help but feel he very much deserves it.

Suicidal Misunderstandings - nevertheless_turtle (WIP, 67,000 words)

Obi-Wan spends much of this fic convinced he's hallucinating and on a bad spice-trip. The trigger warning is very much in the name here.

That said, wonderful, often hilarious time travelling Obi-Wan fic, as the jedi desperately try to work out 1) what's wrong with Obi-Wan, and 2) how to stop Palpatine.

Re-Entry (Complete, 568,000 words) and Re-Entry Journey of the Whills (WIP, 889,000 words) - flamethrower

Fair warning, might turn into a deadlink fairly soon. The author's stuff is in the process of being transferred to another archive. Not a big deal (though fandom being a collective arse is, ffs), as with many older fics this one has moved home fairly often! (Squidgeworld.)

Wonderful absolute epic time travelling Obi-Wan Kenobi fic. Even if you're not a fan of the central Qui/Obi pairing it's written from a very believable perspective, of you can see precisely how these two adults got there, and an extremely enjoyable read with it.

Starts off as a fairly character-driven piece, as the plot slowly builds into something extremely ominous indeed, though once the plot momentum gets going ye gods it gets going.

Another case of technically a series that's a WIP, but every individual story that's up is complete and a satisfying individual whole.

Filled with all the things I love in a Star Wars fic, Obi-Wan getting to be awesome, force esoterica, Obi-Wan getting to be a little shit, plotty plot, the jedi getting to be nuanced and awesome, canon and fanon star wars lore all over the place, and plenty of action adventure and gorgeous character work.

I don't want to go into too much spoilery detail here, but suffice it to say this one is a classic in the fandom for a reason, and deservedly so.

Warning that the dark stuff in this fic can get dark, the level of whump Obi-Wan endures goes all the way up to extremely creepy Palpatine-torture on par with the Ventress/Sith-mask/Alpha-17 situation. It's never gratuitous with it, but in places this fic is explicit, at turns in both the fun porny way and the whump sense.

Star Wars crossovers and fusions:

Alas this section will be shorter than I'd like it to be - unlike a lot of other sci-fi fandoms Star Wars fandom seems to shy away from crossover fic by and large. There's both less of it, and what there is seems to get a hell of a lot less interaction than it would in a different fandom. Not guilt-tripping, again, I am very very guilty of failing to interact myself, just a weird, 'huh, where are all the crossovers?' thing I've noticed.

Rouge Handed - nevertheless_turtle (complete, 2190 words)

As the name hopefully implies this one's kinda sorta a Moulin Rouge crossover. Ish. In that it's firmly set wholly in the GFFA.

Delightful little crackfic.

The weeping stone - Gabriel4Sam (complete, 6965 words)

A wonderful crossover with The Mummy that somehow manages to thread the needle, hitting the humorous tone of those films perfectly whilst simultaneously making you feel very sad indeed for Obi-Wan.

A Star to Steer By - dogmatix, norcumi (first fic in the series is complete, second a WIP, 109,000 words)

Absolutely wonderful Stargate crossover/fusion - it somehow manages to be both a crossover and a fusion at once.

Largely told from Jack's POV, the Jedi are symbionts, with all the misunderstandings that would imply, given the SGC are much more used to dealing with malevolent parasitic Goa'uld than benevolent symbiosis.

Lost Jedi - Augusta Pembroke (complete)

A Velvet Goldmine crossover fic. Curt Wild meets Qui-Gon Jinn, and things get complicated. Qui/Curt with implied unfulfilled Qui/Obi feelings.

All the unhealthy messy relationship stuff the Velvet Goldmine tag and the age of the fic implies is probably present and correct here.

Qui-Gon ends trapped on the wrong side of the galaxy, he finds Curt who's force sensitive, and trains him to help him get back home to Obi-Wan... Things get messy.

Snow and Cinder - MrsHamill (explicit, complete, 16,000 words)

The pre-requisite wonderfully done Highlander/Methos crossover fic. Obi-Wan hangs out with the ROG for a while post-Naboo in a bid to get over a falling out with Qui-Gon Jinn and work through his own messy feelings on the matter. The main pairing is Qui/Obi as many older Master&Apprentice archive era fics are.

All you really need to know about Methos is he's very old, and very cynical. He's literally seen and done it all.

This one doesn't fall into the all too easy to fall into trap of having Methos, understandably an extremely old and cunning immortal being so much better at anything and everything than everyone else around him that it stops being fun and starts bashing the other-verse in the crossover, for which I'm extremely grateful. It's a difficult balance to tread and this author manages it wonderfully. (I say this from first-hand, I have tried and failed to airdrop this character into other sci-fi fandoms you'd think he'd work well in, fic-author perspective rather than as a crit of anyone else's work!)

Look at the publishing dates please.

A few of these fics pre-date Attack of the Clones. They were written in the 90s.

If I find out someone's been bashing an author for outdated terminology or characterisation or for not using the current 2022 language, or a character the fic pre-dates in a fic they've not looked at for over twenty years, or how they wrote the central pairing in the era when the punchline to every single joke in Hollywood was 'haha they're gay!' I... Well... I won't be writing another one of these rec lists. Which isn't much of a threat I realise, but please, be civil.

I could probably easily fill a couple more of these lists tbh, and get more specific with it genre-wise... But as a general, here's a few fics I remember fondly often. I can feel myself getting neurotically 'this has to be perfect' at this thing, so, this'll do for now.

[firedjinni]

what do u even call the slugcats cause they're "names" are fuckinfg BORING! "monk" "survivor" yap yap yap! thats why I call them flowerboy and ponyboy hunter is a cool fucking name but still WOLFBOY. is better I know theres... other slugcats the only ones ive seen are the fat one and the darker red one. and some weird... mutation looking slugcat... weird eyes... weird colors. whateverrrrrr ill enable the dlc after i do this damn wolfboy run 4 DAYs. LEFT.

okay, I understand this was probably not the intended point of this ask, but it is too late. you have activated my trap card. we are talking about Slugcat Worldbuilding Headcanons now.

(Spoilers ahead for… basically every campaign.)

For Hunter: I imagine "Hunter" is more of a nickname, and that NSH normally refers to them more as his courier or messenger. I tend to call them "Hunter" for writing convenience (even in their own POV, so far), but they don't really call themself that much. They have a lot of identity issues tied up in being created for a Very Specific Purpose and not really knowing how to think of themself outside of it; they're a divine messenger, but that's not really a name. Until their purpose is fulfilled, they don't think about themself as a person often enough to actually consider things like names.

For Survivor: I like the headcanon that slugcats (at least in Surv/Monk/Gourm's colony) are given simpler names as pups, and sort of "earn" a more descriptive title/adult name as they mature. In my usual read of them, they would have just been "white/pale one" when they still lived with their colony, and gave themself the name "Survivor" some time after their fall.

For Monk: their pup name, which they have during their campaign, is something like "yellow one", and they don't earn a title until later. Even then, they aren't ever "Monk" in-universe, as slugcats don't quite have an equivalent social structure or role for that term to translate directly. The name they take instead means something more like "pacifist" or "gentle/wise/peaceful one", though there are some loosely similar social connotations to early Ancient society's version of monkhood, with implications of spiritual attunement, insight, and vague otherworldliness.

For Artificer: I imagine this name to be a matter of in-universe translation jank. Their actual name is something closer to "crafter" or "clever one that makes things" (again, connotations are tricky to translate!), but those simply do not possess the same pizzazz. The Scavengers also call them "Red Death" or sometimes "Red Mother", which ends up becoming a sort of mythological figure later on, like a Scavenger boogeyman. Future slugcat colonies end up sort of adopting back the mythology of the Red Mother as a protective deity/spirit, so they mostly call her that in the future. "Red" was probably their pup name, too.

For Spearmaster: Seven Red Suns calls them "messenger" and "07" -- I like to think the former becomes a nickname (their character designer, Faeling, headcanons SRS calling them "Messy" as a nickname/diminutive which I think is adorable), but Spearmaster themself might have adopted the latter too at some point, maybe almost like a family name, because they like that it connects them to Seven Red Suns. I also figure that other wild slugcats might have various nicknames for them, especially since SM would have no easy way to introduce themself -- and the name "Spearmaster" might come from that, actually! But I also like the idea of a future folktale version of them similar to with Artificer, with various names depending on the opinions of the colony/culture in question: "Cousin Thorn-tail", "the Spear-sapper", "the Drinker", and so on.

For Gourmand: again, I imagine this as a case of translation jank, and whatever they're called has slightly different connotations, though I'm less decided on what it should actually be. "Gourmand" is just so… specific? I feel like whatever they've got going on should be equally untranslatable, though. It's something along the lines of "appraiser" and "crafter" and "skilled forager", with this implication of like… knowing about valuable/desirable things and how to find/make them, and also having a strong personal taste for them? "Connoisseur", almost? But not quite as fancy. Their pup name was just "big one", though -- pup Gourmie wasn't quite the absolute unit they are as an adult, but they were definitely always a big slugcat.

For Rivulet: I like the idea this really is just their name! Little-stream-of-water! It's actually their pup name, but they left their colony before coming of age (ran away to become an adventurer), and never really found a title they liked. They think Moon calling them Ruffles is cute, but it's definitely just a nickname.

For Saint: the name does translate directly, not because slugcats have a concept of sainthood, but because the title they gave themself is the literal term taken from the Ancients. I headcanon that they were raised by or around an iterator and know a lot of The Lore, and sorta borrowed some of these concepts for how they see themself… a sort of divine sufferer bringing peace to others, martyring themself for the sake of mercy. Their pup name was just "tongue" or something, though, if they had one at all.

[horseshoegirl]

Damn Those Dog Tags: Part 13 - Sons & Daughters

📜This one is going to hurt... 😬 Depending on how you think... I challenged myself with this one as it's almost all from Sadie's POV.

Also, do you guys listen to the songs at all? Just curious 😂

❗+18, strong language, godmother reader/original female character, original child, name-calling and implying some derogatory things, mentions of concussions, Angst, Protective Dagger Squad, mostly from Sadie's POV.

#6.5k words

Part 12 | Masterlist | Part 14

The first thing Sadie thought when she woke up in the morning was that she had never had a headache like this one.

She had nothing to compare it to. This wasn't a soccer ball to the face or a cold with a bad stuffed-up nose. This type was the one that made your eyes water in pain, the kind where your headband was just too tight, but there was no headband for her to remove. The type to create intrusive thoughts about hitting your head off a wall to see if that would fix it.

On top of that, she was exhausted from her Uncle Jake waking her up throughout the night, ensuring she could still wake up. And each time he did, she had trouble falling back asleep.

When you came to wake her up in the morning, a smile on your face, she couldn't stop her tears from escaping due to the pain. She could handle a lot, but headaches were her weakness. And your reaction only made it worse, Sadie not wanting to add more to your plate, as a frown graced your face.

Whether the question of if she was feeling okay, physically or emotionally, was going to cross your lips, Sadie didn't want to know.

She groggily sat up, trying to bury her face into your neck, clinging to you tightly and whimpering, "It's my head."

Something about just holding on to you soothed the pain. Sadie could remember the doctor telling her before leaving the hospital that she would feel worse on the second day. She thought he had been stupid to say that; nothing could have been worse than what her entire family just went through.

Then she understood what he meant. However, he should have paid better attention to his choice of words.

Sadie tried to hide her whines as you stood, carrying her out of her bed and into the bathroom, where you single handily searched for the bottle of pain meds as she clung to you.

Uncle Jake was working a wooden spoon through a bowl of batter in the kitchen when he saw Sadie in your arms. He frowned and immediately dropped the spoon, walking over to the pair of you and placing a hand resting on Sadie's back.

"It's her head," you spoke quietly, kissing her forehead. Jake took the bottle of meds from your hand without saying anything else, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, saying quietly, "Go sit. I'll get everything ready."

Sadie didn't pay any attention to what was happening after you sat down with her in your lap. Uncle Jake brought over two pills and a glass of orange juice at some point, and you coaxed her into the chair next to you to take them.

But she was impatient, waiting for those nasty things to work, pressing her head into her arms as if the small amount of darkness would help. Then Uncle Jake placed a packet of ice on her neck, and she wanted to cry from the relief.

The awful bandage came off after she started to feel slightly better, you sitting behind her at the kitchen table as you worked the thing loose. Uncle Jake was at the stove, flipping pancakes, laughing at the faces Sadie was making as you tugged one way or pulled the other.

After living off hospital food almost all day yesterday, the pancakes did wonders for her stomach. But she was more pleased to see Uncle Jake smiling and laughing with you at the kitchen table as everyone ate. How he made her laugh and feel happy, despite everything that happened.

Uncle Jake just fit in.

And that was the thing with you and Uncle Jake. Neither of you babied her. Sadie knew she could always come to you with anything; she just had to say the word. And it only took shared looks with Uncle Jake to know he was an option as well, constantly checking in with a knowing smile and Sadie nodding to let him know she was doing okay.

But she didn't want to think about everything just yet.

After breakfast, however, was a constant cycle of boredom. Sadie didn't know how to cope. You told her she couldn't look at a screen, and while she understood, she was bored. This was different from when it was the flu or a cold, and she got to stay home from school. She could huddle on the couch, play her Switch, or watch a movie during those times. Despite loving to read, she could only stare at the pages for so long before the words ran into each other.

Or her head started to pound again.

Uncle Jake tried to help, sitting with her outside while you curled up in one of the chairs, reading a book in between answering phone calls. Sadie hadn't seen you with a book in a long time, that book in particular, and she wondered what convinced you to pick it back up again. But she liked the fact you did, watching you turn every page with eager intent, lost in the world described in the pages.

Until she fell asleep against her Uncle Jake, who was content to let her be until two hours had passed and she needed to be woken up again.

She honestly just wanted him to let her sleep.

Then the Daggers had called, more Auntie Nat than any of them, to ask if they could bring dinner over. When they arrived, she hugged everyone slightly longer than usual, not that they seemed to mind. Even if she had to put up with the same questions from all of them, Sadie honestly just wanted her family close by.

But there was something off about her Uncle Roo.

He barely said a word to her when he walked through the front door. And his hug wasn't as warm or nearly as tight. And after dinner, with everyone in the backyard, she was beginning to worry. She could tell he was mad as she feigned sleep, lying up against Uncle Jake on the bench to avoid answering another, "Are you doing okay?"

He hadn't stopped staring at her once. Or at you, for that matter. His eyes tracked every movement you made in the backyard, from refilling a water jug to nibbling on a piece of food. Or every conversation.

Every time you to came over and spoke with Uncle Jake.

It was weird, she thought.

And she wanted to find out why.

Despite her headache going away, being around everyone made her exhausted. And she suddenly felt the urge to be alone. She excused herself from the backyard, asking if she could lie in her room for a minute, everyone frowning. But you had let her go without complaint.

You always knew what she needed, and you never forced her to do something that made her uncomfortable.

Rooster had been there for her when she was struggling with the fact she wouldn't see her mom anymore. Maybe she was trying to let him approach her by going inside. She half expected him to follow her inside, or there might have been a moment when she would have pulled him aside and asked if she could talk to him about what had happened. This shouldn't be any different than those times.

But he didn't follow her inside, and he really hadn't said a word to her all evening, unlike Auntie Nat or Uncle Bob, who had asked if she needed to vent.

She couldn't figure out what she did wrong.

It was making her upset.

Sadie lifted her from her pillow head to a knock at her bedroom door.

"Come in," she called out softly. Her door opened, revealing you on the other side, a sad smile on your face.

"Hey," your voice was soft. "I just came to check on you. Everyone was worried."

Sadie put her head back on her pillow, glancing out her window. "I'm okay. Just tired. It's just a lot."

"Should we have not had everyone over? You're allowed to say no. No one would blame you."

She closed her eyes, moving her head back and forth against her pillow. "No, I wanted everyone here. It was just more than I thought it would be."

You stepped forward to sit beside her on the bed, hand reaching out to stroke at her leg top her covers. "You've been through more than anyone your age, Bug."

Sadie turned to look at you, instantly drawn to your eye. Your bruise had gotten darker and lighter, yellow patches adding themselves to the stains of the blue since she came home. Its presence on your face still haunted her, making her return to her belief that you or Uncle Jake wouldn't have gotten hurt if she had stayed in the bathroom. But then she'd remember what Uncle Jake had said, and she'd stop herself.

She knew even her mom would have come up with the right thing to say, which sounded exactly the same as everyone else had been telling her.

People were just sometimes bad.

"Am I supposed to buy the "It will make me stronger" speech people give me?" she wondered aloud. You squeezed her leg through her puffy green comforter, saying, "Not if you don't want it to."

Adjusting herself on her bed, she replied, "So if I wanted to be upset about it?"

You slid closer to her, and Sadie reached for your hand, threading her fingers through yours. You touched her cheek and answered, "It's okay to cry about what happened Bug. To be upset. Why do you think you can't be upset?"

"Because you and Uncle Jake got hurt. Because I don't want anyone else to worry about me. Because it will cause more problems, and I don't want you to be sad."

You gasped, crying, "Sadie, you're never a problem! Please don't ever think that! I'm only sad because I can't fix everything for you. I would do anything to make sure you're happy."

Sadie cried the second you said those words, releasing the pent-up emotions weighing her down since she woke up in that hospital bed.

Maybe she didn't need to talk to her Uncle Roo about these things.

You had been right here all along.

"Thank you for understanding, Aunt Liz," she sniffed, wiping her eyes. "And being there for me. For taking me in."

Laying beside her on her bed, you wrapped your arm around her side. "As if you were going to end up anywhere else than with me. That's nothing you have to thank me for, Bug."

She played to the edges of her comforter, the question burning on her lips. "Is he my birth-farther? The bad man."

Her mom had always said she had a father out there. One that left before she was born. She hadn't started putting everything together, the photos her mom had shown her, the warnings to stay away from that man, until after everything had happened and she had time to think about it when she was stuck in that hospital bed.

Sadie knew you would tell her the truth. You always did, even when she didn't want to hear it. You swallowed hard before nodding sadly. "Yeah, he is."

Sadie let go of the comforter, pushing it off her. "What does that mean for me? For us? I just... don't want anything to do with him."

"Well, hopefully, when the police catch him, he will go to jail. So we will never see him again. Your mom ensured that would never happen. He's not going anywhere near you."

"Really?"

You nodded. "Everyone outside would buzz the CPS building if that was even the slightest possibility too."

She giggled at that.

"So whether you like it or not, you're stuck with me. And those idiots outside."

Sadie huffed a small laugh, remarking, "Till I run off with a boy, right?"

You gasped, sitting up and remarking, "Sadie Beck, don't tell me you have a crush!"

Well, shoot, she really shouldn't have gone with that reply. You could always tell when she was hiding something.

Well, almost always.

"I'm almost eleven, Aunt Liz. Do I really need to be thinking about a boy right now?" she attempted to throw you off her trail, rolling her eyes. But you didn't relent, a knowing grin on your face.

"Not if it's Will your thinking about," you teased. Sadie squealed, rolling herself into her pillow.

Will had called her today asking if she was okay. She liked him more than she cared to admit. She was still too young even to consider having a boyfriend. But she liked the way he cared about her. It reminded her of how Uncle Jake cared about you. Then she realized, turning her head with a shout, "You and Uncle Jake's date got ruined!"

You chuckled softly. "It's nothing that can't be replanned. Besides, I think he likes spending time with the both of us anyway."

Sadie giggled, thinking back to this morning. "Don't let him flip the pancake pan again. And he needs to stop singing in the shower. I think it's making my head worse."

Something warm sparked in Sadie's chest at watching you finally laugh wholeheartedly after what seemed like the longest 24 hours of her life.

She liked seeing you laugh. You only ever did once Uncle Jake came around since her mom had left the two of you.

"Is it okay that Uncle Jake is staying here?" you asked her after a minute.

Sadie sat up in her bed, looking at you questionably. Uncle Jake had left just after lunch for a half hour, returning with a bag in hand. She hadn't questioned it. It made sense that he would stay with you two while the bad man was still out there.

She also didn't trust the police officer outside across the street in his car either. She had often peered out the front window to see him asleep in his front seat.

She nodded. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"I don't know, with everything that has happened? The fact he and I.."

She didn't have to think twice about her answer. "I feel safe with him in the house."

You smiled. "So do I, Bug."

You were about to say something else when a loud shout echoed down the hallway, an f-bomb, as you had labelled on the swear jar in the kitchen. Sadie's eyes shot to her open door, and she quickly remarked, "Somebody needs to put money in the swear jar."

But this wasn't a slip of the tongue. More shouts and angry words were coming from different people. Sadie looked at you, wondering what to do. But you had gone stiff, your face emotionless as the both of you took in the fight.

You seemed to snap out of it when you heard Auntie Nat's voice shout Uncle Roo's name, and you finally looked back at her with worrisome eyes.

Sadie watched as you grabbed her oversized black headphones with puffy sides from her bedside table and quickly turned them on. You were biting your bottom lip as you placed them on her head, looking down at your phone and hitting play on a playlist. You squeezed her shoulder, mouthing 'stay' to her before you quickly exited her room, shutting the door behind you.

Sadie couldn't hear anything beyond the music playing in her ears. She could tell without looking at your phone screen that it was the playlist you had made for Saturday Nights.

She caught snippets of shouts and yells for a couple of songs when the music shuffled. She could hear you, Uncle Jake, Uncle Nat, and Uncle Roo, who was the loudest. At one point, she thought she even heard Uncle Bob raise his voice. That one shocked her the most - she had never heard him speak that loudly.

But after a while, she couldn't hear your voice in the mix while another song changed. Sadie reached up and pulled the headphones from her head, leaving them on her bed as she climbed off and to her door.

She didn't know why everyone was fighting but needed to know. If her suspicions had been right about Uncle Roo being mad about something, she needed to know why and if she could fix it.

She opened it carefully, not that anyone would have heard her with how loud it was and shut it closed behind her. The hallway was dark, save for a light coming from your bedroom. Tip-toeing across the hall, she pressed herself to the wall as she peered over the corner, spying on everyone standing at the entrance to the kitchen.

You weren't in the room with them anymore. And Sadie confirmed she had indeed been right about Roo being mad. Her first thought was that her comparison of how red as a Rooster he could get wasn't accurate. She needed something redder, maybe a lump of coal from the fire pit or the stuff inside the glass thermometer you kept in the backyard.

But then she started to question why he was mad and yelling. And, most importantly, why was everyone standing behind Uncle Jake and not Uncle Roo when she knew they didn't like him?

---

You didn't want to admit it as you left Sadie's room. But nothing would have gotten Rooster to react that badly had he not found out about you and Jake.

Rounding the corner of the hall, Nat stood between Rooster and Jake, her hand on Bradley's chest. She was pushing him away from Jake, who had his arms crossed and jaw clenched, staring him down.

The rest of the Daggers were spread out amongst your kitchen, caught between trying to figure out what the hell happened and wondering what side they would go to bat for.

"Bradley, what the hell was that?! Sadie is in her room!"

You shouldn't have said anything. Bradley's red-hot temper, face contorted in outrage, suddenly pinned you down. Pointing his finger at you, he stepped forward in your direction. Nat countering his movement, making sure to stand between you and him at all times.

"You liar!" he seethed.

You took a step back, slightly frightened.

"How long have you been sleeping with him? Since before we were deployed or after?!"

"I'm not sleeping with him!" you replied, your voice slightly brittle. Bradley scoffed, placing his hands on his hips. "Well, something is a little fucking fishy considering his bag is next to your bed in your room!"

You narrowed your eyes at him, your fist clenched. "You went into my room?!"

"Didn't need to when the door was wide open."

Some part of you wished you could have sat Bradley down and told him without fear of a reaction like this. But Bradley was unpredictable at best. And from what you knew of his relationship with Mav, he could hold a nasty grudge.

It wasn't as if you didn't feel bad about it. You didn't lie to him, but you didn't tell him the truth when you should have.

"You gave into him!" He shouted at you, looking at Jake and then back to you. "We told you! We warned you, Elizabeth! And you didn't listen to us."

Nat was the one to respond for you, recalling, "She made no such promise, Bradshaw. She told you to lay off and let her handle it."

But he didn't listen to her, too caught up with watching how you reacted to his words to even entertain any idea that didn't fit into what he believed to be fact.

"How quickly did he get between your legs?" he remarked heatedly.

"Rooster!"

Out of all the people you expected to shout, Bob certainly wasn't one of them. His southern drawl, normally soothing to the ear, was harsher than normal. He moved from his perch up against the wall next to your back door, coming to stand in line with Nat and Jake, "That was outta line!"

A part of you acknowledged he probably found out about your relationship with Jake from Nat. But he had been silent this whole time. He had never said a word about what he knew or thought.

"The number of times she's taken care of your ass, and this is how you treat her? You've got no business telling her what she can do."

"It's fucking Hangman, Bob! Are you all even thinking about what this will do to Sadie? When he leaves her out high and dry?" Bradley exclaimed. "She's going to wake up one day, and he's not going to be there, and she's going to be devastated. And for what?!"

Jake narrowed his eyes at him, "Not that it's any of your goddamn business, but she made me swear to put Sadie first."

Suddenly, everything clicked for Bradley, the pieces fitting together neatly.

"Jake wasn't randomly at the Hard Deck on Friday," he said. "He was seeing you."

You refused to look him in the eye, and Bradley's face twisted in hurt.

"So, this is it, huh? You've been seeing each other behind our backs this whole time? And decided to keep it from us."

You gripped your forearm tightly. Should you own up and let him know almost everyone knew but him? Could you explain or even convince him that everyone found out by themselves?

But the choice had been made for you when Rooster saw something in Nat's eyes that indicated not only had she known about it, she was and had been okay with it.

"You knew?!" Rooster yelled at her. Nat stood her ground, fierceness in her eyes as she remarked, "It wasn't my story to tell."

"Oh, this is just fucking rich. How many of you knew?"

Bob and Coyote turned away from Bradley, refusing to say anything that might give away what they knew. And while Fanboy and Payback might have only found out now, even knowing something had been going on between the two of you or assuming something would, given that Jake followed you into the kitchen that first Saturday night, they still hung their heads low like everyone else.

"How could you all?!" Bradley cried out, eyes tracking around the room. "You traitors!"

"Okay, you know what? I'm done!" you seethed, stepping around Nat and copying Bradley's stance. Jake reached for you, but you dodged his hand. Poking Bradley in the chest with your finger, you shouted, "What the fuck is your problem, Bradley?"

"He's my problem!"

"Jake is not the goddamn issue, and you fucking know it!" You yelled back at him. It was like a light switch had been flipped somewhere inside you, and all this anger suddenly rushed to the surface.

"Time and time again, you claim it's Sadie you are concerned about. But you change the conversation every time I press just a little bit further. Or you blame Jake, but something tells me that's your scapegoat for everything!"

You pushed at his chest, making him take two steps back. "And for what? Because he said something about your dad?"

Bradley's jaw twitched, and you knew you had struck a nerve.

"Oh, so it is that."

"Stay out of it, Liz," he murmured. But you didn't listen. You had enough, and you would find out the real reason here and now.

"You dragged Sadie and me right into it," you shot back. "So I'm going to drag it out for you. What is it?!"

Stalking forward, you glared Bradley down, continuing to step backwards as you dealt each verbal blow.

"Is it some longstanding grudge because Jake hurt your feelings?" you challenged. "Or Is it Jake replacing you in Sadie's life? Do you think that lowly of her to think she plays favourites? She's adored you since she met you!"

And then suddenly, you remembered what Sadie had said to Bradley the second she saw him on your sister's front porch. "Or does it have something to do with your mom?"

Bradley's temper broke loose.

"I watched her mourn my father every day, picking her off the floor because he wasn't there! I watched her cry out for him daily, barely functioning beyond her routine. Get up, make breakfast and shuffle me into the bus and off to school. She couldn't cope with his loss and his absence in her life. She loved him so much, and it wasn't enough to keep him here with her! No matter what I did, it was never enough! And when Jake does the same to you, I won't have Sadie live her childhood doing the same for you!

With everything Bradley admitted, you should have come up with a more compassionate response. But you were too hurt by the comparison to manage anything other than, "Grow the fuck up."

You had said it so scathingly and firmly that everyone pivoted and faced you. No one had ever heard you be that ruthless.

"I'm not your mom. And Sadie isn't your child where you can make choices for her. I've long wrestled with the idea that I'll never be able to protect her from everything in life but Jake?! He's not one of those things."

Tears welled in your eyes as you continued. "As for my grief, I have never placed anything on her. I've hidden that part of myself away day in and day out because who would I be if I wasn't strong around her? I've sacrificed my mental sanity day in and day out so she can have some semblance of peace. To know that there are people who care about her."

But rather than continuing to be angry at Bradley for his reaction, you felt pity for what he went through.

"I'm so sorry if you had the entire weight of the entire world on your shoulders growing up, Bradley, but Sadie isn't going to crumble because I can't be strong around her."

Bradley opened his mouth as if to respond, but no words came out. It was clear to you he was grappling with his own emotions, whether something had caused him to be this way or you had brought everything rushing to the surface.

You held his gaze, unwavering in your conviction. "I'm not asking you to agree with my choices," you finally said, your voice softening. "But I am asking you to respect them."

But you knew he wouldn't. In defending Jake, and by poking and prodding at him, you had backed Bradley into a corner.

And like a wounded animal, he went for the insult.

"I didn't know you wanted to add your name to the tally in Hangman's whorehouse."

You felt cold, ice shooting up your veins and freezing over your skin.

Your hand was ready, fingers steadying and stretching out as you prepared to whip it forward. But rather than a slap, Nat beat you to it, fist flying out of nowhere and landing hard into Rooster's solar plexus. He lurched over in a groan, and she stepped back, nostrils flaring.

"You say that again about them, I dare you. You've done enough damage."

"I'm not the one who ruined the team," he said hoarsely, looking at you pointedly.

You were done.

You turned on your heel, making a run for it back down your hall, a slam of a door letting everyone know you had no plans to return any time soon.

___

Jake watched you leave, head down and hands coming up to wipe at your face as you ran down your dark hallway. Everyone stared a Bradley in a mix of shock and anger. Maybe even in disbelief. For Bradley to say such a thing, to you of all people, was inexcusable.

"That was your last straw, Bradshaw. I couldn't care less what you say about me, but her? You need to leave," Jake said, getting up in his face.

Coyote stepped up from behind Bradley, knocking his shoulder hard as he passed him. Bradley stumbled forward, eyes watching as Javy nodded once to Jake before following you down the hall.

"You have no idea the double standard you place on, Liz," Jake laughed to himself. "Taking about grief and telling her she needs to grieve when shaming her for wanting to do that. Sadie can grieve, but Liz can't? "

"I'm not the asshole who's going to fuck it up for them," Bradley remarked. "Liz wouldn't have to if you just chose to stay away from them like you should have."

But Jake smirked at him. "At least I have the decency to own up to when I've been one."

"You know," Bradley started. "I'm just waiting for the day when you mess up so badly, and she looks for someone to support her. Cause I know her better than you could ever think. The second you do, you'll never get her back. Or Sadie."

Bob spun away from the group at Bradley's words, becoming slightly more worried Sadie would wake up and venture into this mess. He had half a mind to leave and sit with her, until out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of blonde hair peaking out from the end of the hall.

Sadie peered at her Uncle Bob from her hiding spot, concerned. Bob shot her a worried look, motioning with his eyes for her to go back to her room. But Sadie shook her head.

She had every right to be here if her name was being thrown around.

"Nothing about what you just said or did had anything to do with Sadie," Jake challenged Bradley, who assertively replied, "She's part of it."

"And at any point during your little outburst, did you even once think about her, currently hiding out in her bedroom, hearing every shout or word you've said?"

Sadie knew the answer to this one. Even if she wasn't in the hallway, and you didn't put her headphones on, Uncle Roo clearly didn't think about what he was saying before he said it.

Having already been standing with Jake, Nat crossed her arms and glared pointedly at Bradley. "You've hurt Liz. The one person who would have taken a bat for you. She didn't deserve everything you just threw at her."

Sadie's eyes shot to Bradley, horrified and disappointed at her Aunt Nat's words. He had hurt you.

That was unforgivable.

Sadie finally decided to pull herself away from the wall, step forward and reach for her Uncle Bob, who was at the back of the pack. She gripped the fabric of his plant leg, half hiding from everyone's view.

Bob looked down, shocked, as she pressed her forehead into the back of his knee. He tried to slowly step backwards, hoping to lead Sadie back to her room. But she wasn't having it, wrapping her arm tightly around his leg, preventing him from moving any further.

She was staying.

"You have a right to your opinion, but if you cannot accept that I'm with her for the right reasons, that Sadie isn't on our minds every damn second, then I will kindly ask you to leave."

Bradley scoffed at Jake, laughing, "Don't think it's up to you to uninvite me."

"But I can."

Everyone turned, shocked to hear, and finally discover Sadie hiding behind Bob's leg. Bradley seemed to sober at her words, eyes relaxing, then widening as he saw her cowering from him.

"Bug..." he said lowly, his hand stretching out. She took a step back, eyeing his hand cautiously.

"You hurt my Aunt," she said firmly, her disappointment in him evident. "You're not welcome here anymore."

Sadie could see the sudden guilt on his face, but she didn't care. Right now, she didn't like him. And he wasn't going to get away with what he just did.

"You heard her," Jake stated, crossing his arms and puffing out his chest.

But Bradley paid him no mind and tried to reason with Sadie as he said, "Bug, it's not what you think."

"I have eyes," she snarked, then decided to add for good measure, "And ears."

Bradley's eyes travelled from Sadie's to Nat's, who now stood behind her. Then Fanboy and Payback stepped forward, crossing their arms over their chest as they glared at Bradley, the man looking more confused with each passing second.

Sadie was mad. Despite not knowing what was exactly said, the fact he would even do something that would purposely hurt you cut her deep. And she was inconsolable, her protectiveness for you coming through fiercely.

Bradley shook his head, his voice slightly bitter. "You're just a kid, Sadie. You don't know how relationships work. It's complicated."

Her eyes blazed with determination. While she might be the youngest, never once had anyone treated her as if she was stupid or deserving of the truth.

"Just because I'm young doesn't mean my feelings don't matter!" She was becoming frustrated now, tears starting to leak from her eyes. And her head was beginning to hurt again. Yet, she persisted.

"Everyone but my Aunt reminds me I'm a kid! That I don't know enough! But I know when someone is being a bully! And you are one!"

She cast her eyes down to the floor, slowly side-stepping until she was behind her Uncle Jake. He immediately cradled the back of her head.

"My aunt has never been happier than she is with Uncle Jake!" She tried to say through the pain. "I will not let you hurt them."

Who was this person, she thought, glaring up at him with utter disappointment, that had taken the place of her Uncle Roo? The one that promised to look out for her, for you, when her mom had died. Who held her hand and told her it was going to be okay? Who went with her after school and soccer practice for ice cream and let her talk about her feelings?

This wasn't the Uncle Roo she loved.

So for the first time in her life, Sadie knew what it was like to see someone she loved so dearly fall from the pedestal she had put him on. And in trying to understand what it meant, she didn't know whether to be upset at him or upset with herself.

"Leave!" She cried out, turning her face into Jake's leg, trying to soothe the pounding in her head. "Just leave! I don't want you here anymore!"

Nat frowned at Sadie before stepping in front of her, blocking Rooster's view of her. She crossed her arms and glared at him heatedly. Then Bob joined Nat, copying her stance and echoing, "Do you need help seeing yourself out?"

Then Fanboy stood beside Nat, Payback to Bob, all four standing as a barrier between Sadie, Jake, and Bradley. He couldn't believe what was happening in front of him. His team had yet to take his side but remained on Hangman's.

And if that wasn't the final nail in the coffin, Sadie pointed towards the front door, without ever lifting her face from Jake's leg, and said through tears, "Bye, Bradley."

Bradley turned on his heel and stormed out of the room without another word, his heavy footsteps echoing in the tense silence that followed. The rest of the squad watched in silence, their expressions a mix of concern as the front door slammed.

Despite the tension in the room, everyone sighed, turning around to check on Sadie. But before anyone could comment on what happened, Coyote shot around the corner of the hall, eyes wide as he exclaimed panickily, "I can't find Liz."

There were mixed replies, Nat asking if he checked the backyard while Bob asked about your bedroom. Fanboy and Payback decided to look out in the yard while Jake stared after the front door, his hand still resting gently on the back of Sadie's head.

But she sighed, wiping her eyes, knowing exactly where you were. "It's okay. I know."

Stepping sideways, Sadie reached up to grasp Jake's hand. Everyone watched the pair disappear while Bob walked to the front door, ensuring Bradley had heeded Sadie's request and had left.

Leading him down the hall to the bathroom next to your room, Sadie reached the door apprehensively, slowly reaching up to twist the knob and carefully pushing forward.

It wasn't the first time she had found you like this. That was before her mom passed away, and you still lived with them. Her mom had explained at the time something had 'triggered' you. She hadn't understood what it meant, but she knew something had happened that caused you to be sad. She remembered how her mom had climbed into the tub with you, pulled your head into the crook of her neck and cooed as you sobbed.

Letting go of her Uncle's hand, she left him standing in the doorway as she walked over to the tub, peering over the edge. You had curled yourself up into a ball, arms covering your face as your fingers had threaded themselves into the hair at the back of your skull.

From what Sadie could remember, you looked exactly as you did then. Trying to look small under the white light, encased by tile and silver.

Without hesitation, Sadie climbed over the ledge, her small hands peeling your arm away from your face as she curled herself next to you, hugging you tight.

"I'm sorry, Sadie," you gasped, arms wrapping around her.

"What for?"

"I shouldn't be crying like this around you. I need to be strong, the adult..."

Sadie pulled back, her small hands grabbing your cheeks, first wiping at your tears before trailing her thumbs down to your dimples, hooking them in the corners and stretching your mouth outwards.

"I'm allowed to cry, but you're not? That's not fair, Aunt Liz."

She watched as your face registered her words, grateful for the little crook of a smile at the corner of your lips.

She wouldn't even try fixing what Bradley had done to you. There were no magical fairy godmothers or instant health potions for this, no star she could wish on with enough power that would solve everything. Sadie only knew you were hurt.

So, as you did for her when you found her in the guest bedroom of her friend's house when her mom died, she let you cry.

And what could she say or do after that but tell you what she did to Rooster?

"I kicked him out."

"What?"

"He hurt you," she shrugged, totally not owning up to the fact she had challenged an authority figure and had him thrown out of the house. You looked at her, panicked, the question half spilling from your lips, "Did you.."

"Relax," she said in typical Sadie fashion. "I didn't hear what he said. But it was enough."

"Sadie..."

"Sometimes people do bad things. And you didn't make him say those things to you."

You sniffed, rubbing at your nose. "I kind of did. I may have told him something he didn't want to hear."

Sadie bit her lip before asking, "Did he need to hear it?"

Her mom would always ask that when things went wrong. If someone did need to hear it, you shouldn't spare anyone's feelings. It was better, to be honest, than not.

Her eyes quickly flashed over your shoulder, Uncle Jake having moved at some point from leaning against the door frame to sitting on the floor, just on the other side of the tub. He had been so quiet she hadn't even heard him sit down.

"Probably. But not in the way I did it." You closed your eyes, lightly knocking the side of your head on the bottom of the tub.

Sadie looked back at you. "Then do what Mum always did. Don't regret it."

"But.."

She reached up and pressed her tiny finger to your lips, instantly quieting you, before remarking, "This is a 'No questions asked,' Aunt Liz."

Sadie didn't let you say another word, pulling herself into you so she could hug you, resting her cheek atop yours, closing her eyes and sighing when she realized you had stopped crying.

When Sadie eventually opened her eyes, looking up over the rim of the tub, her Uncle Jake was still there, his presence unknown to you. He wasn't looking at her; he was looking down at you with a tender look and a sad smile. It was like he wanted to reach out and comfort you. But he also didn't want to disturb the two of you.

At that moment, everything her mom had ever wanted for you made sense.

Yes, Sadie thought. He was the one her mom always talked about.

The one she had hoped you would find after those phone conversations at the kitchen table. The one that took care of you. That looked out and stood up for you. That made you laugh. Made you happy.

It may be time for you to open the shoebox on the top shelf of your closet, she thought.

Those letters were undoubtedly meant for him.

We have fluff next chapter! I promise!

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Part 14: Sex on Fire coming soon

^ and yes, there is some smut coming up ^

Wickett ;)

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Her Voice

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Smutty Audiobook Narrator!Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting will be blocked.

Length: 3.2K

Notes: No physical descriptions of the Reader (there are descriptions of characters that are not the reader in the story); no use of y/n

Okay. So. I got this idea today and it would not leave me alone so. Here ya go. It's a little out of the ordinary from my usual? I think the POV shifts from Matt to what's being read are clear, but please let me know if they're not.

Warnings: Voyeurism; voice kink; scent kink; dirty talk; daddy kink; spanking; masturbation; Matt Murdock's Opinions on Some Romance Novel Verbiage which are also my opinions shut up

Summary: It had become his guilty pleasure. There were some nights that he loathed his duties to Hell’s Kitchen, and missed the sound of her voice caressing each sultry, salacious syllable. 

When she had moved in, he could never have known that his otherwise mild-mannered and church-mouse quiet new neighbor would have such a smutty evening occupation. The first time he’d heard it, he thought that she may be reading aloud to herself, that she had some sort of fetish for her own voice. He’d understand if she did—he'd certainly developed one.

It had become his guilty pleasure. There were some nights that he cursed his duties to Hell’s Kitchen, and missed the sound of her voice caressing each sultry, salacious syllable. 

That night, he caught on a phone call of hers—a complaint about a broken mic, a contract, a quick turnaround, and a plea for a replacement mic. She was nervous. Matt could hear her heart pounding in panic. The package had arrived just an hour later, and she thanked the delivery person enthusiastically. Another phone call had been made (to a boss or an agent, Matt wasn’t sure). 

“I’m one chapter out,” She said. “I’ll have it in by nine.” 

What had followed had been some pacing, some vocal warm-ups and tongue twisters. Matt found himself waiting with bated breath. He had missed most of the recording of this latest project, and had somewhat shamefully been hanging around his apartment that evening, rather than grabbing a drink at Josie’s with Foggy and Karen. He settled on his couch, laying down and letting his ears filter out the noise of the street below, and the sounds of the other apartments around them. He closed his eyes, and just let himself listen to her: 

“Maddox strode across the room, shedding his jacket as he did so. Eleanor watched as the meticulously tailored garment crumpled on the floor. Before she could open her mouth to protest, Maddox raised a hand, curling it around the supple skin of her throat.” 

Matt licked his lips, a smile pulling at his face as he heard her heartbeat tick up. She must’ve liked that. 

“‘You are sorely mistaken’,” She went on, lowering her voice a touch, approximating a man’s tone. It was always strange to Matt that this was the route taken, rather than subbing in a man’s voice from chapter to chapter. “‘My interest in Zufiya was purely transactional.’” 

“And this? What has this been if not transactional?” 

Matt smiled. She was so quick to shift from one voice to the other. He’d heard it time and again, but it always fascinated him. 

“Maddox’s expression seemed to melt at the subdued fury in Eleanor’s amber eyes. His hand gently smoothed along the side of her neck, his knuckle skating across her jaw. Eleanor could feel a softening in her chest, the chains that she’d wound around her heart breaking one by one. She needed to step away. She knew that if she was in his company for one moment longer, she would yield to him.” 

Yield. Yield was a good word. There were some words used in these books that Matt found utterly laughable, but the yearning press that she’d put on yield made him shift on his couch, his cock giving a belated twitch in his pants. 

“Eleanor took a half-step back, and winced as she felt the hard press of the brick wall behind her. Oh, god.” 

Oh god indeed. She had loosed that last utterance with a breathy little moan—one that Matt would give anything to hear and feel right up against his cheek. 

“If she had had a lick of sense, she would’ve ordered him out. Hell—she never should’ve let him in in the first place. But as Maddox braced his hands on the wall behind her, Eleanor felt her remaining inhibitions crumbling. 

"‘If I cared about Zufiya, would I be here now?’ Maddox murmured. ‘You think I would chase her halfway across the world like this? Follow her to the ends of the fucking Earth if I had to?’ His hand lifted from her cheek, his finger trailing across her plush, trembling bottom lip. ‘If that’s truly what you think of me, Ellie, then you don’t know me at all.’ 

“Eleanor’s knees weakened as Maddox’s lips covered hers in a hungry kiss. Her hands raised on instinct, intent on pushing him away, but her traitorous fingers curled around his collar. She used her last vestiges of strength to haul him closer, her mouth falling open in a moan as she felt his cock coming alive in his pants.” 

Matt found himself torn between arousal and laughter. Coming alive? Did he have a Franken-cock? Or was this one a vampire, too? She’d read a few of those. They hadn’t been Matt’s favorite—and he’d been more than a little conflicted when one of them had also been a priest. 

“Eleanor choked on a breath as Maddox reached down, gripping her shirt and yanking it harshly, sending its mother of pearl buttons scattering across the floor. She would give him hell for that later. For now, she let her head fall back against the wall, her eyes sliding shut as Maddox leaned down, ravaging her breasts.” 

Ravaging. It was another verb that Matt didn’t particularly care for from day to day, but he was more than happy to hear it coming from her mouth. He found himself lowering his hand, absently palming his hardening cock through his pants. He always felt a little…Guilty, doing this. Maybe it was wrong, but others would eventually be listening to this too, right? He was just at a different place in the production and sales process. Maybe he could think of it as a free sample. 

“‘Take your shirt off,’ Eleanor begged. ‘I want to touch you.’” 

Her pleas were so sweet. They made Matt’s eyes squeeze shut, his fingers flexing around his length. Did she really sound like that when she begged? When she was in the throes of passion? Or did she prefer to make others bed? He wanted to know, and it was becoming increasingly irritating to be deprived of that knowledge. He’d never heard her with anyone in her apartment, or getting off alone. Maybe she was with someone and went to theirs instead. He had no way of knowing—he’d never actually met her. He’d just fallen for her voice through their walls. 

“'How do we ask for what we want, Ellie?’ Maddox goaded. Eleanor swallowed thickly, her doe-like eyes batting up at him. He could see the fight that she was having within herself—her damnable and fierce independence was battling the joy that she found in submitting to his him. She swept her tongue across her kiss-blushed lips before she said the two little words that Maddox had become so hooked on: 

‘Please, daddy.’” 

Matt’s surprise pushed a grunt out of him, a shaky little laugh leaving him. Oh. Shit. He fumbled a little, shoving his shirt up a bit and pushing his hand beneath the band of his sweatpants. 

“‘That’s my good girl’.”

She liked that, too. Matt could sense the heat rising in her body, hear the way her heart was thudding more roughly in her chest. He tipped his head, drawing in a deep breath. The scent of her was faint, but more than enough for him to seek out and hold to. His hand tightened around his hardening length, stroking himself with indulgent slowness. He knew well enough by now to take his time when he listened to her. 

“Maddox hooked his finger in the waistband of her tight pencil skirt, towing her from the wall to the kitchen table. If he felt that they had more time, or that he had more patience, he would’ve taken her to her canopy bed just down the hall. But he needed Eleanor in that moment, and he could see from the desperate, cock-dumb way that he followed that she needed him just as badly. 

“Maddox reached out, swiping the contents of the table onto the floor, uncaring of the mugs, dishes, pens, papers, and magazines that were scattered and shattered as a result. He was desperate to spread her wide, to hear her whimpers and sighs as he pleased her with this tongue and fingers before giving her his cock. He wanted to banish any notion of their argument, of Zufiya, of their arrangement from her mind. He wanted to pull her apart and put her together again in the way that only he knew how—in the way that no other man would ever know her. Eleanor Lewis was his, and he would never squander her time or attentions again. 

“Maddox leaned away despite the way she whimpered, though the sound plucked at his heartstrings. He took hold of her hand, placing it over his hardening length and urging her fingers to squeeze around him before he raised his hands to undo the line of buttons on his shirt. 

"‘So, you’ll tear my shirt to bits, but take time with yours?’ Eleanor pouted. ‘That’s not very nice.’

"Maddox flashed a shark-line grin as he shrugged off his shirt, revealing his broad, muscled chest. 

"‘You ought to know by now that I’m not very nice,’ Maddox teased in turn. He reached down, shoving the fabric of her skirt up around her hips. He’d take his time undressing her properly later, but now, he wanted to give them both what they were desperate for. Eleanor watched, stunned, as her dom and protector lowered himself to his knees in front of her, tugging off the scrap of lace that was covering her dripping cunt.” 

Matt let out a shaky breath as he sensed her leaning back from her mic, and heard the way she swallowed quickly. The scent of her was becoming stronger. Matt drew his cock out from the band of his sweatpants. He wanted to be buried between her thighs, to take in the scent from the source, and feel the pulse of her needy pussy. 

“Eleanor lowered a hand to steady herself against the table as Maddox leaned in, bracing his palms on her legs and running the tip of his tongue along her weeping slit. A low growl emitted from his chest as he tasted her, his fingers flexing in the pillow-soft flesh of her thighs. Eleanor shivered and let her head fall back, her auburn curls brushing the mahogany wood of the table as she tipped her hips down toward him.” 

Matt could sense her shifting in her seat, her hand rising to pull her collar away from her neck a little. Maybe she didn’t have someone elsewhere. Maybe she was all wound up, and all alone. 

“Eleanor jolted a touch as she felt Maddox’s fingers tap, then gently ease into her weeping hole.” 

Matt winced. Weeping hole? That sounded like a wound. 

“Her body tightened around him of its own volition, a shaky whimper dropping from her mouth as Maddox sealed his lips around her swollen bud. The tip of his tongue teased and flicked over her clit, his fingers curling and thrusting as he knew she liked. Eleanor lowered a hand to run his fingers through his hair, fingers twitching and tugging as Maddox’s fingertips brushed the spot inside of her that made her toes curl.” 

Matt groaned softly as he swept his thumb along the head of his cock, smearing the swelling bead of precum as he raked his other hand through his hair, giving it a light tug. Would she tug? He’d want her to. Matt’s heart was pounding in his chest as he raised his hand, lapping wetly across his palm before desperately taking himself in hand again. 

“‘Maddox—Oh!’ Eleanor gasped as Maddox reared back, his lips and chin shining with her juices, and his eyes narrowed in warning.

"‘Daddy—Daddy, I’m sorry—’ She stammered, but it was too little too late. Maddox slipped his fingers from her, straightening. Her eyes darted to his erect length in his pants. She only had a second to look before Maddox grasped her by the waistband of her skirt again, yanking her up and turning her. He placed a rough hand between her shoulders, shoving her down. She braced her hands before she could face plant into the wood, her body tingling with the knowledge of her incoming punishment.

"‘Count,’ Was the order that left Maddox’ gruff mouth. It was chased by a rough slap and sting. Eleanor’s empty pussy ached and throbbed, a counter to the pleasurable pain rippling across her backside. Her jaw fell open, eyes squeezing shut as she managed to weakly whimper, ‘One’.”

Matt pulled his hand off of his cock with a groan, fisting his greedy fingers in the fabric of his sweatpants. He was too close—he could feel his orgasm brewing, his balls pulling tight. He took in a deep breath, steadying himself, and trying to slow the rough pounding of his heart. But he didn’t stop listening. He couldn’t if he tried. 

“The following blows rained along Eleanor’s backside unerringly. She pushed each number out obediently, even as her voice shook and broke. By the time he reached ten, Eleanor’s cheeks were wet with tears, and her cunt was sopping. Maddox sighed softly through his nose, smoothing his hand over her heated skin. He dipped his head, brushing a kiss to her quaking shoulders and pushing his body up against hers. His trousers brushed roughly against her sensitive ass. She just shivered and pushed her pleading body back toward his.” 

Matt listened as she pulled in a deep breath, shifting on her chair. Did she want to chase the feeling that was welling slickness up between her thighs? He could only imagine the way she would, pushing and rolling her thighs to chase the pressure, and to loosen the knot that this job was working her up into. 

“That’s my good girl,’ Maddox purred again, smoothing his hands over her shaking sides. He reached up, quickly working at the clasp of her bra. The straps slid down her trembling arms, and he reached around, tugging the cups down to expose her more fully to him. Maddox gently gathered her hair and pushed it from her nape, pressing a kiss there.

"‘Can you take me just like this?’ He murmured. Her head hung low as she nodded, but Maddox tsk’d softly. He curled his fingers in her hair, yanking her head back and listening to her throaty moan. ‘You know I need to hear it, Eleanor. Do you want another punishment?’ 

"Her body and her mind screamed two different things, but her body won out. She whined, ‘No, Daddy. I can take you just—just like this. Please, Daddy.’” 

Matt couldn’t help how quickly he reached down to grasp himself again. The way she begged was so goddamn irresistible. Every whimper and whine, and every pleading syllable that she pushed through her lips made heat flash across his body. 

“Maddox kept a vice-like grip on her hair as he reached down, undoing his belt and zip with one hand. He drew his cock out, stroking over it a couple of times before using her hair to pull her upright. Eleanor's lips dropped open in a moan, the sound muffled as he shoved and plunged his fingers into her mouth. She gagged, her nose filling with the scent of herself, and her tongue bursting with her own taste. Maddox watched as her eyelids fluttered, tears welling and slipping down her round cheeks as she obediently struggled, keeping her mouth wide open. Maddox drew his fingers from her, nuzzling her heated cheek as he lowered his spit-slicked digits to grasp himself. He stroked over his length before he steered himself into Eleanor’s grasping, needy cunt.

“He hardly gave her a moment to adjust, and she hardly seemed to need it. Eleanor came with a shout, her sensitive pussy tightening around Maddox’s cock as he set a punishing pace. He rode her through her orgasm, his hands grasping, pinching and pulling her sensitive nipples as he rutted into her. His name fell from her lips like a desperate prayer. He looked down, eyeing her pert, bouncing ass as he nailed her with harsh, deep thrusts. Maddox curled over Eleanor, letting go of her breasts and pressing his body up against hers as he buried his face in her neck, drawing in her tempting scent.

‘Is that what you needed, Eleanor?’

‘Yes, Daddy.’

‘What do you say?’

‘Thank you Daddy, thank you!’” 

Matt’s mouth fell open in a pant as he pushed his hips up into his hand. He was dancing dangerously close to the edge. Her voice was all-consuming, painting the picture as if it was for his ears only. He heard her move and growled as her scent overwhelmed him. She’d spread her legs. Matt would give anything to slot between them—to give her his lips, his tongue, his fingers, his cock, any goddamn thing she wanted. 

Matt planted his heels in the cushions of the couch, bracing and straining as his orgasm crept closer. 

“Eleanor’s fingers grasped weakly at the edges of the table, her legs shaking as the head of Maddox’s cock raked over her g-spot. 

‘Are you going to cum again, you sweet, greedy girl?’ Maddox chuckled. 

‘Yes, Daddy—But—’

‘But what?’

‘Wanna wait for—for you.’ 

“Eleanor’s insistence was labored, her words jolting with each rough shove of his hips. Maddox’s chest flooded with affection. In that moment, he wanted to give Eleanor everything—his cock, his cum, his goddamn heart. He slipped his fingers between her slick thighs, swiping at her clit with indulgent roughness, grinning as she loosed a stunned scream and tightened around his cock. He was just behind, his cock pulsing and spilling into her hungry cunt.” 

Matt’s cheeks pinked as his hips stuttered, his cock spurting across his stomach and chest. He pushed out a long, low moan. Fuck. Matt tipped his head back against the arm of his couch, his chest rising and falling as he blinked, gathering himself. She was still going on the other side of the wall—still reading, still shifting, still fighting to keep her own blatant arousal out of her voice. 

“Maddox kept a palm pressed carefully to the table to steady them both, resting his forehead between her shoulder blades. He cupped her still-throbbing cunt, grunting as she pushed her hips back against him.

‘...I think you broke my favorite mug,’ Eleanor managed after a few moments, her voice rough from their exertion. ‘And you definitely ruined my favorite shirt.’ 

‘Forgive me,’ Maddox murmured. 

‘Prove that you’re sorry.’ 

“Maddox chuckled, lifting his chin and sinking his teeth into her shoulder, grinning as she gasped and writhed at the sudden burst of pain. 

“‘Babygirl,’ He murmured as he lifted his head from her throbbing skin. ‘You ought to know by now that you shouldn’t try to give me orders.’”

It was quiet for a moment. Then, Matt heard her click something. She sighed, pulling her headphones off of her ears. He could sense her standing and walking from one place to another. It was chased by the sound of her turning the faucet on, of a glass being filled, and then three greedy gulps. She sighed again, setting the glass down before she muttered, “Son of a bitch.” 

Matt laughed softly, raising a hand to scrub across his face. It was like he was sobering up, the noise of the street and the other apartments beginning to come back to his consciousness, and the feeling of his cum cooling on his belly. 

“Son of a bitch,” He agreed softly.

Tag list: @mattmurdocksscars; @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ;  @paintballkid711 ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @recklessworry ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage​​​ ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @nolanell ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa​ ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices​ ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce 

[kopfkino-o]

Pro Vassien Super Post

One of my favorite potential ships within the ACOTAR world is Vassa x Lucien. The bird of fire and the lord of flame. The cursed queen and the spell cleaver. Soo I decided to put together some thoughts based on what we've read in the text so far! It’s a little unorganized, so bare with me.

This is obviously a pro-vassien post, so if that's not your cup of tea then this might not be for you! And as always, these are just my own opinions and interpretations.

Ready? Let's go!

The Cursed Queen and the Spell Cleaver’s Son

In ACOWAR, we are introduced to Queen Vassa, the human queen who has been cursed by the sorcerer Koschei.

“But yes—queen by night, firebird by day.” He [Lucien] blew out a breath. “Nasty curse.” — ACOWAR

In this same book, we also learn that Lucien is in fact the son of daddy Helion, High Lord of the Day Court, and the Spell Cleaver. Famed for his ability to “cleave” or break magical wards, spells, and enchantments. A gift we saw Helion use first hand when he broke the spelled chains of Elain following her rescue from the Hybern camp.

And, interesting enough, a gift we might have seen Lucien himself unknowingly utilize in ACOMAF when at Hybern.

“There was a flare of light, and a scrape, then Lucien was stalking towards Elain, freed of his restraints.” - ACOMAF

Interesting that we met a cursed queen in the same book we also learn Lucien is the son of the Spell-Cleaver. And what’s even more interesting, is it seems SJM retconned some details in how Vassa was found.

In ACOWAR, Lucien tells it was Papa Archeron who found Vassa, and that he joined up with them after she was freed. However, in ACOSF we are told Lucien was, in fact, there and played an active part in finding Vassa. Here’s what the books say:

“Lucien.” I breathed. “Who?” Drakon’s brows narrow. “Oh, the male with the eye. No. He met up with them later on—told them where to go.” - ACOWAR

“He [Koschei] is still at the lake,” Lucien said carefully. Lucien had been there, Cassian recalled. Had gone with Nesta’s father to the lake where Vassa was held captive.” - ACOSF

Interesting, right? Why retcon this little detail? To me, it it seems like SJM wanted to give Lucien the knowledge of where Koschei’s lake is because, as we know, it’s only a matter of time before Vassa is called back. And is it not interesting that Lucien, the Spell Cleaver’s son, is one of the only characters who knows where his lake is? If not the only one. Seems like future set up to me.

Because, it makes sense, wouldn’t it that Lucien would be the one to return to Koschei’s lake to break Vassa’s spell and set her free. He, after all, might be the only one with magic capable of such a feat.

The Lord of Fire and the Bird of Flame

One thing that I think is very telling, especially in regards to Lucien and Vassa, is the way Feyre (our queen, our mother, our primary POV character, and arguably the “main character” of the series) observes these two. There’s a few instances I’d like to highlight. Starting with the infamous:

“A lord of a fire and a bird of flame. I wondered if they’d found each other yet.” — Feyre herself, ACOWAR

Here we see Feyre assign them what reads a hell of a lot like a couple name. She’s grouping them together and calling attention to them being a pair. And they do fit pretty well together, no? A son of autumn [see: fire] and day [see: spell-cleaving] and a bird of flame. The fox and firebird. The emissary, son and friend of many courts, and the human queen.

This isn’t the only instance Feyre calls attention to these two in the story. One of the most interesting instances for me is her observation of Lucien and Vassa on Solstice.

Lucien, surprisingly, was chuckling, his shoulders loose and his head angled while he listened [to Vassa]." - ACOWAR

Why was this surprising to Feyre? Perhaps because she’s seeing her friend back to his usual, carefree, easy going self while in the presence of Vassa? Regardless of what this scene means, I think it’s telling that it was Feyre, the story’s primary POV, who noticed this interaction and commented on it within her internal monologue. It’s almost as if SJM—through Feyre’s eyes—is leading the readers to pick up on… something.

The Sly Fox and the Fierce, Untamed Queen

It's time to talk about Jesminda. The woman Lucien loved. The woman he thought might be his mate. And the woman he lost.

According to Lucien, Jesminda was:

"Jesminda had been all laughter and mischief, too wild and free to be contained by the country life that she’d been born into. She had teased him, taunted him—seduced him so thoroughly that he hadn’t wanted anything but her. She’d seen him not as a High Lord’s seventh son, but as a male. Had loved him without question, without hesitation. She had chosen him." - ACOWAR

I think this passage is incredibly important when we look at the dynamic between Vassien and E/lucien. We see, through Lucien's own POV, that it was pretty important to him that Jesminda saw him for who we was. Chose him because of who we was. Loved him and accepted him without question. As compared to Lucien's mate, I do think this is an interesting comparison. Especially when Lucien himself thinks...

"Elain had been … thrown at him." - ACOWAR

Now this isn't a post about Elain and Lucien, so I won't go into it, but I do feel it was important to highlight the differences between the way Lucien views Elain and the way he viewed his relationship with Jesminda. I also think the aspect of choice is something very, very important. Both in Elain and Lucien's respective, and shared, journeys, but this is something I'll touch on in a later post.

But what does this have to do with Vassa? Let's consider what we know about the mortal queen and her personality.

"Only a few years older than me, but... young-feeling. Coltish. Fierce and untamed, despite her curse." - Feyre upon meeting Vassa, ACOWAR

And:

“Not for long—not if Vassa has anything to do with it.” “You sound like an acolyte.” Lucien blushed, “She’s got a foul temper and a fouler mouth.” - ACOFAS (? - I don't have my book on me, so this might be taken from the wrong book)

I think when we look at the way Vassa and Jesminda are described we can see there are several similarities between these two females. Jesminda was wild and free, filled with mischief. Vassa is fierce and untamed with a foul mouth and fouler temper. To me, these two women seem like they're the same "type" and based on the way we see Lucien reacting to Vassa... I suspect our fox boy might have a thing for fiery, foul-mouthed, fierce ladies.

Lucien, the Blushing Acolyte

So this section is a bit... untamed. But I wanted to consolidate all of the little moments I've picked up on... something existing between Vassa and Lucien.

“He’s keeping everything running. I think he’d have been crowned king by now if it wasn’t for Vassa.” A twitch of the lips, a spark in that russet eye. “She’s doing well enough. Savoring every second of her temporary freedom.” - ACOFAS

Indeed, Vassa still remained inside, chatting with Lucien animatedly. I supposed that if she only had until dawn before turning back into that firebird, she wanted to make every minute count. Lucien, surprisingly, was chuckling, his shoulders loose and his head angled while he listened. - ACOWAR

“The human queens are still out there,” I said. Maybe I’d hunt them down. “Not for long—not if Vassa has anything to do with it.” “You sound like an acolyte.” Lucien blushed, glancing at Elain. - ACOWAR

Both Jurian and Lucien stared at her [Vassa], the former’s face utterly unreadable, and the latter’s pained. - ACOSF

So... what does this all mean? Obviously its up for interpretation, but to me, these scenes show me a few things:

1) Lucien is comfortable around Vassa. So much so that he willingly lives with her and Jurian in the mortal lands away from his mate. That he's found friendship and acceptance with her, as well as Jurian, in their Band of Exiles.

Sidebar: I find it VERY strange that Lucien is able to live this way, especially when we know that mates are driven to always be around one another and pained to be a part. Yet... Lucien seems just fine living far, far away from Elain and Velaris.

2) His curse pains her. Ironic that the spell-cleavers son is pained over the curse the mortal queen is suffering? Sounds more like foreshadowing to me.

3) There’s something there. Could it be friendship? Sure. But... when considering the "type" Lucien seems to have, the way he seems lighter, more himself, feels to me like clever foreshadowing.

4) The obvious, stark contrast of Lucien's character when he is around Elain and when he is around Vassa. Around the former, he seems pained, uncomfortable, dejected, down on himself, lacking that usual snarky humor we know and love him for. Around Vassa? He appears at ease, shoulders loose and laughing easily, a spark back in his russet eye.

My (Maybe Not So) Unhinged Wish

So… what do I make of all this? Well, I think we will be seeing an epic love story play out between Lucien and Vassa. One where they choose one another. One where Lucien, who used to hold a prejudice against humans, falls for a human queen. A story where Lucien discovers his parentage to free the woman he loves.

And, my hope, is that by coming together Lucien and Vassa will be able to bridge the gap between humans and the Fae.

Queen Vassa and King Lucien Vanserra anyone?

[shatterstag]

I. Am. In. Love. With. Bellamy. nerdy question, but what are his stats?

OH MY GOD THIS LOVELY ASK IN MY INBOX FROM SO MANY YEARS AGO!!!! This is a billion times late but I will answer now as an excuse to start talking about My #1 Guy again!!

For current art-related context, Bellamy is my oc who ive been writing for 7 years alongside my bestie/housemate, @jacobin, who writes Indrejk, Bellamy's other half/other main character, and love interest/best friend/antagonist. We've written a billion and 50 original aus for them but recently really got into FFXIV together, and Salem came to me and said, 'I want to write a comic about them as viera bunny boys' and that was how PAWS UP came to be.

that my guy 🥰🥰🥰🥰

SO it's been like, 6 or 7 years since I played Bellamy in the dnd campaign he was originally part of (Curse of Strahd!!), that era of Bellamy still holds a special place in my heart. We got up to level 6 and did maybe two dozen sessions before my DM (who is now my said bestie/housemate/cowriter) had to put it on hiatus because of stuff, but because we loved the characters so much (Bellamy and Indrejk, his god, who was their oc-turned-pantheon-member), we just... kept working on them as original characters loosely still tied to the original dnd campaign, until eventually we took them into a completely original new setting and plot. We've never been able to settle on a name for this story, but we call it 'Canon,' and it's the ultimate expression of our writing and storytelling that maybe one day will finally get to come out of the basement and into the light of perception.

ANYWAY thats the backstory of how he was made as a character! He's very different now, in aesthetics, in vibe, in personality, in the atmosphere of the original story he's the deuteragonist/main pov in, but I still hold a special place for OG dnd Bellamy in my heart. He was originally super Bloodborne inspired, as we agreed to make a cast of super gothed up characters for the game and I was playing it at the time. He was the party's 'healer'/sub dps Grave Cleric, and I rolled him as a sun elf + Unearthed Arcana Revenant subrace. His character vision was that he was an robotic and disconcertingly alien plague doctor who would never take off his mask, and the players, both in-game as their characters AND! out-of-game as players, would have no idea what his true appearance/fantasy race was until it was revealed in game or they guessed the truth: that he was an undead revenant ghost that puppeted an empty plague doctor suit. 😈

I thought the idea of a grave cleric (who were RAW flavoured as seeing undead as abominations that must be slain and returned to the afterlife) who was actually an undead ghost trying to exist in secret among the living, was a really interesting archetype oxymoron.

this is super old art from 2018!!!!

ANYWAY here's his character sheet he was left off with at level 6!! It's very High Gothed Up for the campaign lololol. Any reference to the Hidden One is about Indrejk, who was the enigmatic evil god Bellamy/our party had gotten entangled with, and who I fell HEAD OVER HEELS FOR as a character, and who is now my oc godson. 💜💜💜

(open in a new tab because that text is tinyyy)

some things never change