#raising phoenix part 2

[mysterythief]

The god stood behind you. You didn’t need to turn to know he was there.

“This will hurt,” he whispered.

You nodded as you sat on a mat in your one room hut, gently stroking the small boy’s raven hair.

Decades had passed since you had left Phoenix’s ashes in the pasture. You had since moved cities and countries.

The boy was small enough he fit in your hands, where he had fallen asleep after you had cleaned him up and fed him. He wasn’t more than a few days old. You had helped his lone mother give birth to him by the light of your fire on your way home. She hadn’t made it. You held the boy, covered in blood and ashes. You did the only thing you could.

You brought him home.

“What will you call him?” the god questioned.

“Phoenix,” was your swift response, as the god softly put his hand on your shoulder before vanishing into the night.

***

“Up!” Phoenix demanded.

You looked down at the young boy, barely managing to toddle the length of the hut alongside you. He stared up at you expectantly in return.

“Up!...Up!” he repeated, stretching his small arms up towards you to make his request clear.

“Quite assertive, are we my little chick?” you chuckled as you bent down to pick Phoenix up. You bopped him gently on the nose with your finger as you brought him up.  Phoenix giggled, putting his small arms around your neck and gently hit your nose with his head in return.

“High?” he questioned as he pulled his face away from yours to look you in the eyes. “Up. High?” he repeated. His face full of pleading.  

“Ah, my beloved son longs to fly, does he?” you question back, a slight smile on your lips.

“High?” Phoenix requested again. Waving his arms to and fro like little sticks caught in a breeze.

You relented, lifting Phoenix high into the air as he let out a gush of laughter. You brought Phoenix down a little, placing one hand under his chest, another under his legs. Slowly, you turned him around the room, moving him higher and lower to mimic waves.

Phoenix laughed, and laughed. Gushing with joy that was contagious. You laughed and spun with him until you grew dizzy, finally pulling him in close to your heart.

“high” he murmured, a soft smile on his face, his eyes threatening to close in on him as he stubbornly fought sleep.

“You are the brightest bird in the sky. And you will rise higher than them all my Phoenix.”

***

“I’m not going to fight you!”

You heard Phoenix’s determined remark by the hut as you were walking back from the village with fresh meat from the butcher. You started to run. The hut was down the hill from where you were so you would have the advantage of gaining speed…

“Oh?! The tiny bird too afraid to pick up a wooden sword. Are you worried that you’ll get splinters?” a boy taunted back.

You stopped suddenly, recognizing the voice of T’lun. Widow Pa Lin’s son.

This was Phoenix’s fight.

As much as you hated it, you would only step in if it was necessary. The village boys already teased Phoenix for his untraditional name and being raised by a foreign father who wasn’t a soldier, like the prevalent occupation here was. If you intervened too soon, the bullying would only get worse.

“I’m not worried about splinters. Nor am I afraid of you.” Phoenix confidence carried up the hill towards you. Far more powerful than any 9-year-old should be able to muster.

You crested the hill to see T’lun and his entourage S’yin and W’tan with their backs towards you. Phoenix was facing towards you, his back to the hut, his arms spread wide. T’lun was holding a wooden sword in his hand, a second one lay untouched on the ground in front of Phoenix.

“You should be. NOW FIGHT ME!” T’lun screamed at Phoenix, who shook his head in return.

You watched, horrified, as T’lun charged Phoenix, swinging the wooden sword straight into his defenseless mid-section. Your feet were moving again before the sword connected with Phoenix stomach, the meat forgotten at the top of the hill, but you were still too far away. 

Phoenix crumpled under the blow as S’yin and W’tan laughed at his misery. T’lun moved to strike Phoenix’s head, but he rolled out of the way and the sword kicked up dust. Phoenix picked himself off of the ground while T’lun was recovering from the shock of not hitting his target.

“Not everything is about fighting and destruction T’lun. My Baba has taught me that true strength comes from rising when you fall. You can knock me down a hundred times. But I’ll get back up a hundred and one times.” Phoenix panted, still out of breath from the hit to his mid-section, but he stood his ground, his arms outstretched, as he had before.

T’lun raised his sword again, his face boiling with rage, “Why you worthless…”

You didn’t give T’lun a chance to finish. “ENOUGH!” Your shout roared through the field, causing S’yin and W’tan to run up the hill immediately. T’lun was slower to the chase. His anger clouding his judgement, until he turned and saw you. He dropped his wooden sword and turned to follow his friends back towards the village.

You turned towards your son. “Are you alright my spark?” you whispered as you pulled him in close. You felt the tears running off his face and into your shoulder as he began to weep.

“Why am I so different from the other boys Baba?” he questioned after a few minutes, pulling away from your chest to wipe his tears away. “I have the same skin tone, hair color, eye color, height, but they all love violence. And I want nothing to do with it.”

You paused, unsure of how to answer his question. After Decades - no centuries - of life on this world, you still didn’t know why people chose violence. So, you took a different approach.

“What do you want then?”

“I want to create. To build something.” Phoenix responded with such certainty you were stunned. But not too much.

After all, you had already seen that he was beginning to spread his wings.

***

“Baba?” Phoenix started as you both sat in the shade of the trees. He held a whittling knife and was working on carving a new game board.

Two years had passed since the incident with T’lun. When Phoenix had determined that he wanted to be a builder. You had given him a whittling knife and had begun to teach him how to carve. He had taken to it like a bird taking to flight. Slow at first, but after a little practice it came to him naturally.

“Will you tell me a story Baba?”

It had become your tradition. Sitting in the shade as you taught Phoenix to carve you would tell him a story. But still you waited.

“Baba?... Oh, sorry Baba. Will you please tell me a story?”

You smiled softly. It was important you teach Phoenix to remember the small things, such as manners.

“And what story should I tell you my spark?”

“Tell me about the phoenix.”

You nodded, unsurprised. You told this story at least once a month, as it was his favorite.

“Unlike other birds, which hatch once their mother has laid an egg, the phoenix is born from the blood and ash of a fire. Covered in soot the phoenix rises. It starts small, a dark little thing, with very little wings.” You begin as you hold Phoenix’s hand in your own, working through how to do a channel cut on a scrap piece of wood before he tried to implement it on the game board.

“As the phoenix grows, it’s dull color turns into a spark, before becoming the color of fire. Bringing light wherever it goes the phoenix expands its wings to protect those it loves.” You watched Phoenix execute the channel cut on his game board. His brow furrowed in concertation with each gentle stroke. 

“When the phoenix has lived life to the fullest, it burst into flames, leaving behind blood and ashes for the phoenix to rise again.” You finished as Phoenix blew the remaining scraps off, looking up at you he proudly displayed his finished board. A huge smile etched into his face.

You smiled back at him. Proud of the progress he had made.

“Why did you name me Phoenix, Baba?” he asked curiously.

“Because you had a spark in your eyes from the moment you were born” you lied.

He nodded, turning back to his board. Determination lighting up his eyes.

***

“Baba,” Phoenix complained, exasperated. “I don’t get why I need to dress up for the festival. It’s not a special occasion or anything. I’m just going to play some of the games with N’mun.”

“Trust me my little spark.” You told your 15-year-old son as you tried to comb down his raven hair, which had a propensity for sticking straight up. He sighed and rolled his eyes, but stood still for a minute before wriggling out of your grasp.

“Let’s go already! Before it gets dark.”

You shook your head before following him out the door.

The village was lit by colorful lanterns and decorations. Phoenix met up with his friend N’mun promising to meet up with you at the bonfire dance before taking off.

The hours flew by quickly and before you knew it the bonfire was being lit to begin the dancing. You went and joined N’mun’s parents, and soon enough the two boys joined you.

“Did you try one of S’lim’s new treats Baba? I had the red one and it was sooo hot I thought I was going to start breathing fire. N’mun just stood there laughing at me instead of doing something useful like getting me some water” Phoenix rattled off so fast you’re amazed that you caught any of it.

“His face was a red as a berry” N’mun laughed, while Phoenix pouted.  

“Was not.”

“Was too” N’mun gently pushed Phoenix to the side. Phoenix in return shoved him back, right into Fa Lum, who smirked at the boys and grabbed N’mun’s hand. Taking advantage of the chance to get him to dance.

“You better be out here soon Phoenix” N’mun jested as Fa Lum pulled him away.

“Yeah right” Phoenix sassed back. “And why would I want to dance with a girl?”

“Because you like her,” you replied honestly to his hypothetical question.

Phoenix jumped, startled, having forgotten that you were behind him. “Me. Like a girl?”

“It’s strange, but possible,” you retorted putting your hand on Phoenix shoulder. He was getting tall enough that you barley had to lean down to do so. “Besides don’t think I haven’t seen how you always blush around Ru Chi,” you whispered, pointing at the petit girl across from them. “You should ask her to dance.”

“But I don’t like her,” he protested.

“Sure you don’t son. Do it anyway. It’ll be fun. Besides you can’t leave N’mun all alone out there.” You pushed Phoenix in Ru Chi’s direction, waving your hand to shoo him away from you and towards her.

Phoenix glared at you, then looked in Ru Chi’s direction. She waved at him and he blushed. He started walking towards her, licking his hand to smooth down his hair before he approached her and asked her to dance. His feet shuffling back and forth as he talked to her.

You laugh softly to yourself. Boys are a little slow on the uptake that they like a girl. But you don’t mind. In fact, you wish your son could stay this young and enthusiastic a little longer.  

***

“Close your eyes Baba. I have a present for you.”

You looked up at your son skeptically. At 17 he towered above you by a few centimeters. And it was his birthday, not yours.

He laughed at your confusion. “Please Baba, let me give you this gift,” he requested.

You relented, closing your eyes. You heard shuffling as Phoenix grabbed something and then moved behind you. After a moment you felt a light weight settle on your chest.

“You can open your eyes now Baba.” Phoenix stood in front of you smiling triumphantly. You looked down at the amulet that hung around your neck.

“What’s this my bright light?” you questioned, musing the bird amulet between your fingers.

It was painted bright red and yellow. The bird had its wings spread out wide and it looked like it was surrounded by flames.

“It’s a phoenix rising from the flame, Baba. Like in the story you always told me. I wanted you to have a reminder of me. I hope you like it,” he shuffled his feet back in forth nervously while he held a smile on his face.

You felt tears of pride and joy begin to stream down you face. You pulled Phoenix in close. “It’s the most wonderful present I’ve ever received,” you said as you held your little boy a little longer.

***

War came to the village two months later.

“Baba! Baba!” Phoenix screamed through the smoke and fire that consumed the village. You had walked into town together to drop a necklace he had carved for Ru Chi and to pick up some food.

“Phoenix! I’m here Phoenix! Where are you my son?!” you screamed back, trying to find where you had lost Phoenix in the crowd. An arm grabbed your shoulder suddenly.

“Baba, we have to help. We have to do something!” Phoenix held your gaze. You recognized the determined fire that lit up his eyes. You held his gaze and nodded. “I saw some of the children running to the east. I’m going after them. Are you coming?”

“Yes, my spark. I’m with you all the way.”

You followed Phoenix as he wove in and out of the chaos that was unfolding around you. Chickens, horses, and people swarming every which direction. Uncertain of where to run.

“There Baba!” Phoenix shouted as he pointed out the small group of 5 children who were being pushed into a corner by two soldiers. Phoenix charged head-first past the soldiers stopping in front of the children he turned, facing the soldiers, stretching his arms out wide like he had all those years ago facing down T’lun. But this time it was a real fight, with real swords.

You charged the soldier closest to you, ramming into his stomach with your elbow. Throwing with enough force to knock him against the nearby wall the soldier crumpled to the ground.

You heard the children’s cries and Phoenix gasp before you could turn around.

You blindly lunged at the second guard, tackling his legs and knocking him off balance. You could see blood on the tip of his sword as you both topple to the ground. You wrestled, both of you kicking, punching, and biting until you managed to land a solid punch to his face that left him unconscious.

You stood unsteadily, making your way towards Phoenix who lay prostrate on the ground. Two of the children hovered over him, desperately trying to stop the blood flowing from his stomach. You know from the amount of blood pooling next to him that it would do nothing.

You dropped to the ground next to Phoenix and picked him up in your arms. His breath was too shallow, too short. “Hold on my son. It’ll be alright,” you cried.

“Baba,” he put his hand to your face. “Baba. Please tell me. Tell me why you named me Phoenix.”

“I named you Phoenix, because you had a spark in your eyes from the moment you were born,” you whispered, cradling his head.

Phoenix smiled and let out a raspy laugh. “I’ve lived a full life Baba.

Please.

Tell me.

Why did you name me Phoenix?” he begged.

“I named you Phoenix, because you had a spark in your eyes from the moment you were born. And because I knew you would rise from ash and blood you were born in to fly,” you sobbed.

Phoenix smiled softly, dropping his hand from your face to the phoenix amulet he had given you two months ago. “Then let’s this phoenix be a constant reminder to you Baba, of your Phoenix. Of my love and my promise. That I will rise and fly again,” he swore before taking his final breath.

Once the fighting was over you carried Phoenix to your hut and lay him on his mat. Taking a torch, you walked outside and lit your home on fire. You fiddled with your phoenix amulet while your son’s body and home burned. You didn’t leave until all that was left was ashes.

The abandoned child you’ve taken in sleeps on your lap as the god who gave you immortality softly warns you. “This will hurt.”

[b14augrana]

Ad Astra Per Aspera

Nothing gold can stay

Alexia Putellas x teen!reader

pt. 3 masterlist

Warnings: this story contains depictions of alcoholism, adultery, and familial issues. read at your own discretion. this chapter in specific discusses themes of abuse and alcoholism.

A/N: the long awaited part 2 to ‘ad astra per aspera’! this took a lot of thinking and scrapped passages to really get this on point, i hope you enjoy 🫶🏼

"You’re early today!”

You smiled halfheartedly at Magdalene and Dani’s teacher, nodding at her. “Yeah, uh, I’ve gotta get to work a bit earlier today so…”

“Not a problem, I’ll see you later,” the woman responded. You gave Magdalene and Dani one last hug before returning to your car, having hope that you’d finally be early to training for once and go the day without being berated by Alexia.

You didn’t want to relive the other night’s training, not in your mind, and definitely not in person. With you, Alexia was a completely different person to the patron saint of Barça that everyone painted her as. You wanted to change that and show her you weren’t as irresponsible and careless as she thought you out to be, but you couldn’t.

It was a relief to see the training pitch parking lot barely populated as it came into sight. There was maybe two cars, which meant you were on time. How incredible.

Before every training, a hopeful feeling swelled inside of you — one of happiness, because you saw football as a means of enjoyment and something to look forward to when all else came crashing down in your life. It was short lived of course, but like a phoenix, it always came back one way or another. Were you wrong for believing in your sport to help you?

"(Y/N), you're early.. for once."

You knew that voice all too well. There was a surprised tone that Alexia's voice held as she spoke, and you knew she expected you to show up late once again if not miss practice completely.

"Yeah, surprise," you replied dully, sitting down on the bench to put your boots on.

"Why are you early?" she asked, and it was a bit of a stupid question.

'Well, after you yelled at me in front of everybody the other day, I decided that if I have to drop all three of my siblings off to school, I might as well do it as early as possible so I don't have to worry about getting screamed at and humiliated at half past nine in the morning!'

"Dropped my siblings off earlier today," you mumbled instead, eyes fixated on the ground as you spoke. You were sure that eventually, your fear would be the one to corrupt your family completely, but you couldn't tell Alexia; it was equivalent to opening yourself up to her, being vulnerable even after trying so hard to maintain a tough front.

She glanced at you, her eyebrow just barely raised but her mouth idle. You cinched your laces tightly and sprung to your feet, very aware of her gaze fixed on you as you grabbed a ball from the bag and dribbled it over to the nearest wall, preparing for the training session ahead.

More of the team started to file through the pitch gates. You could hear their bags dropping to the ground as you passed against the wall, and as Mapi passed behind you she squeezed your shoulder. “I’m glad to see you, (Y/N),” she said, a smile on her face.

For once, as training started, you didn’t feel dreadful. You were excited and motivated by the good start to the morning, which showed in the newfound pep in your step and enthusiasm around the pitch.

After a long while, the sun began to set, which indicated the end of training. You sat down at the bench, unlacing your boots and trading them for sandals. Unexpectedly, Alexia sat down beside you, saying, “Good job today. You did well.”

“Graciés,” you responded, standing up while slinging your bag over your shoulder, “See you tomorrow.”

She watched you leave through the gates, her eyes unwavering on your figure disappearing around the corner.

You lived next to a lovely elderly lady named Margalida. She was a sweet woman, always saying bon día and bona tarda to you and your siblings whenever she saw you. Sometimes, after you returned from training and picked up your siblings, she invited you four into her home to share pastries with her. You always accepted, of course, because it was much better than subjecting yourself to the olfactory assault that was your home, and she was also a widow that you figured needed some company from time to time.

When you weren't home, you couldn't monitor your mother's behaviour; praying that it would stay somewhat normal would have to suffice. You didn’t know whether Margalida knew about the true nature of your household or if she thought you were all naturally raucous.

You pulled into the driveway, parking the car as the doors opened and your siblings got out of the car. “(Y/N),” Magdalene said slowly, imploring you to look at her curiously. “Who are those people?” she pointed ahead, and that’s when you noticed Margalida at your doorstep, alongside two police officers and another woman. She looked like a regular office worker, but you weren’t an idiot; she was obviously a social worker, which could only mean one thing. A bad thing.

"You three stay in the car for a bit, okay? I'm gonna go talk to these people," you said to your siblings, motioning to the car as you turned around again and walked towards the people.

You felt nothing but dread in your gut as you approached them. One of the cops, who was talking to a distressed looking Margalida, looked at you and began to speak. "Miss (Y/L/N)?"

You nodded slowly, "Before we talk, can I just send my siblings inside?"

"That won't be possible," the officer said, making you raise an eyebrow, "...Because we're here regarding a call about a person inside, which we now know isn't you."

"I heard yelling from inside," Margalida added. "It was loud, and– and it sounded like there was crashing, from things being thrown around."

She took a deep breath, looking at you sympathetically. "I thought one of you was being hurt, so I called the police."

"I know your situation with the..." she paused, gesturing to the rubbish bin. You spun around, your eyes widening at the sight of it. Cans and bottles galore filled the bin to the brim, threatening to spill out. You could count at least ten, and that was only at the surface of the deep bin. You could recall the rubbish being collected just a few days ago, and now it was basically full.

She looked at you, her eyes pitiful. You hated it, so much; pity made you feel like a kid, and it angered you that the only time you got to relive any sort of childishness was when someone noticed you were suffering, not because you actually had the liberty to behave like one again. Where was the pity when you actually were a kid, having to wake up and stay afloat to support three other kids?

"Who else lives here, other than you and your — I'm assuming — siblings?" the other cop asked.

"My mother. My dad left a few years ago," you mumbled, looking at the ground.

"Is she home right now?" he asked, and you nodded. "Yeah. She's probably asleep, so if you did knock on the door, that's why nobody opened it."

"Asleep or blacked out?" his partner suddenly added. You looked at him, clenching your jaw as you shrugged. "How am I supposed to know? I've been at work all day."

"What do you do for work?"

"I'm a footballer."

"For FC Barcelona?"

"Buy a ticket and maybe you'll find out."

You ended up sitting across from the two officers and the social worker in a dingy, dark room scarcely furnished with only a table, three chairs and a dirty window to accessorise it. This time, the woman did most of the talking while the cops just surveyed the conversation. Magdalene, Dani and Lorenzo were sitting in the waiting room of the station — you didn't want to drag them along, but you didn't have much of a choice.

"Can you tell us a little bit about your family history that might correspond with the things reported to us today?" she asked, leaning across the table.

"My dad left when I was, I think.. 13. Cheated on my mum and left us all for another woman. My mum, uh, got out of control. She didn't take it well," you replied, not looking up once as your gaze was fixed on the chestnut-stained, chipped table.

"I see. Well, from the contents of the rubbish bin, I presume her coping had something to do with alcohol," the woman said. As if her apathy hadn't been obvious from the start, it was dripping off her every word and showing her true intents; not to help you, but to get this over and done with and throw your siblings into foster care, then consider her job done and get paid for it.

You nodded at her claim nonetheless, picking at the paint of the table. "Yeah."

"Have you or your siblings ever been subject to abuse, from either of your parents?" she continued

"No no, absolutely not, they never hit–"

"I'm not just talking about physical abuse, (Y/N)," she interrupted. It was the first time of the entire questioning you had looked up as you met her gaze, your eyes saying more than your mouth ever could.

"It was just a few arguments,” you responded coldly.

“When we asked Margalida, your neighbour, about if there’s been any incidents like this, she said there has been. Yelling, screaming, and lots of it,” the woman told you. “How many arguments are you considering a few, (Y/N)?”

The table shook from the impact of your hand slamming it sharply as you shot to your feet. "If you consider a couple arguments to be verbal abuse, go ahead. My mum is hurt and angry, very angry about her husband leaving her, so yeah, she drinks and we argue about it!"

"Listen, please sit down. I understand that you and your siblings are troubled children but–"

"I hate being a– I hate that term, 'troubled kid', you know? We aren't troubled! If we were troubled, wouldn't we be dead? Wouldn't we be troubled by an inability to continue living in these conditions, these... ruins?"

Silence. You sat down once again, your head in your hands.

"Do you have another location you can stay at?" she asked you. You shook your head, the feeling of dread burying itself deeper in your gut.

"Unfortunately, we will have to place your siblings in foster care. The living conditions are unsafe and unstable for kids their age to be living in," the social worker finished.

You wanted to burst into tears. You wanted to sob and sob and sob, harder than you ever have, but the tears wouldn't summon.

"There is another option," she spoke slowly, making you immediately look up from the darkness your palms shrouded you in.

"...we contact your father and see if he wants to look after them."

It sounded just as bad as placing them into foster care. Now, you wanted to scream in her face and call her utterly stupid for assuming that a man who abandoned his kids would want to take care of them years later to keep them out of the foster system. Why on God's green earth would he want to reap the consequences of his infidelity?

"Are you hard of hearing?" you scoffed. "Yeah, so, I said earlier that he left us years ago for another woman, you know, to make another family. He didn't want us."

"He's the only other option at the moment. Unless your mother can be moved to a rehabilitation center in sufficient enough time, and you become their legal guardians, they will end up with foster families. Possibly not even the same one."

The news weighed on you like bricks. It was all so much, you couldn't think straight and contemplate possible outcomes and solutions. You put your elbows on your table and held your head in your hands once again, taking a deep breath.

"Can I at least find someone myself who's willing to foster? Someone I know?" you asked, your tone being nothing short of desperate.

She took a moment to respond, and it was probably the most nerve-wracking few seconds of your life, until the ultimatum was spoken.

"I suppose, yes. That is basically the whole principle of fostering, so I see no issue. Until then, they will be placed in a temporary home before we start looking for a permanent family. A pair of officers have gone to detain your mother and we'll review the information from this questioning to determine whether she should be charged or put straight into a rehabilitation program."

"Thank you," you almost cried, your body relaxing from the little bit of relief and reassurance you had just received. There was still a possibility that you could get your siblings back.

The problem standing in your way now was, you didn't know anyone willing to foster. You had no idea who you'd turn to, and it actually made you realise that you were pretty alone in this whole ordeal, and life in general. You really did have nobody but yourself, and clearly there came a time where that wouldn't be enough.

"Magda, Dani, Enzo, come on. We're going now," you said as the door of the interrogation room swung open. You beckoned at the kids, who stood up and ran to you, following you out of the door.

You didn't want to go home yet, just in case the officers were still there and you'd arrive to the horrible scene of your drunkard mother getting dragged of her own house by the authorities, so you drove to the training pitch. You were in search of one person in particular, and hoping to avoid another one.

Parking the car in the same spot you had parked in the same morning, you quickly got out of the car and ushered the kids onto the pitch to play for a little bit while you went into the gym.

As soon as you walked through the automatic glass doors, the person you were searching for was stretching on a yoga mat, her resistance bands discarded above her head.

She sat up, looking at you with a mixture of surprise, confusion and concern, probably achieved from your sorrowful expression.

"Vicky, I need your help. Now."

[zkg2318]

Blood on Fire ~ pt. 3 | PJS

A/N: this is part 3 of the BOF series, please read part 1 for the story to make sense as these are heavily driven by plot. Also, i apologize if the smut is a bit too vanilla for your liking, but i tried to add a bit of uniqueness to it. as compensation, i wrote a slight aftercare scene (and i almost never do that cuz im bad at writing it) have fun reading. also, sorry for the ending lol

genre/tags for this part ✶ MDNI reverse harem!hyung line x afab!reader, angst, smut, gore and violence, supernatural themes, (sirens, werewolves, vampires, shapeshifters, phoenixes, frost elves, dragons, witches, and more…), major character death (don't worry), blood, verbal and physical violence, lots of murder, manipulation, lots of death, panic attacks, government themes (not political), fight club au, ot7

synopsis ✶ In a city where the supernatural are arrested on sight, the only refuge for their pent-up rage is “The Enha Arena”- an exclusive, hidden venue where creatures engage in brutal, blood-soaked battles with one another. Concealed beneath the unassuming exterior of “Dusk and Dawn,” a gym that serves as the front of a totally legal business, this underground fight club acts as the epicenter for this violent world where supernatural beings not only fight for dominance and pride but for the sheer thrill of it all. In dire need of some money, you find yourself drawn into the fight club when you come across a black market job posting- an offer for a new trainer at the gym. Desperate for new ways to keep your own abilities under wraps and even learn about other supernatural beings, you accept the position, completely unaware of the dangers and complicated relationships that await you

WC ✶ 12.7

part 2

smut warnings under the cut

smut warnings ✶ monster erotica (obviously), unprotected sex, very brief dom!reader, grinding, slight overstimulation, fluffy aftercare, emotional sex

In the darkness of Luxta’s hidden underbelly, K slaves away for the black market, The Veil in particular, scraping by on a barely livable wage. Desperation has become his best friend now; daring him to escape these circumstances, no matter what. He moves through the outskirts of Luxta with an agonizing slowness, the years worth of working evident in his gait.

Raised like most of the supernatural around here- alone without the guidance of a parental figure, K has brought it upon himself to pay his dues by giving back to the supernatural youth- children who have yet to be sold in the black market or older adolescents who were lucky enough to live in The Veil’s residences.He spends his nights navigating the narrow alleyways located on the outskirts of Luxta that have slowly become the habitat to these ‘monsters’, a notepad in hand as he records statistics and hands out supplies. 

In the beginning, it fulfilled K, knowing he was giving these kids some sort of temporary comfort during the hardest part of their lives. But at some point in time, that comfort dissipated and turned into burn out. Seeing their faces every night, many much too young to be carrying the burden of survival, was just too much for him. But there wasn’t an easy out for K, the supernatural didn’t exactly have access to everyday jobs like humans did. Many had to rely on underground jobs like dealing drugs and committing illegal acts. 

It’s storming now, and the only protection there is are the tents that The Veil has graciously put out for children to commune under. The harsh rain pounds against the makeshift shelters, deafening the murmurs of the children underneath them. K walks around with a sheet of paper in his hand, greeting several children of various ages huddling together for warmth, creating a list of their abilities and what they are. He blinks away the rain infiltrating his vision as he watches some of the children ignite small flames from their palms, a small attempt at experimenting with their powers in order to offer a subtle warmth for others around them to share. Other children aren’t as lucky, shivering as the harsh wind hits their bones. 

As K moves through this particular camp, he spots a figure moving in the distance- his face obscured by the hood of his cloak. A small boy, who stands in front of K, is quickly moved behind him as he straightens his posture to hide him from the strange man’s view. “Don’t you think the sky’s a bit dark for you to be out this late?” K asks, suspicion creeping away in his voice. 

“It glimmers or some shit,” the man grumbles as he shoves a wet envelope into K’s hand. His tone is dismissive and groggy as he continues to speak, “If you want to get out of this shit show, follow the instructions of this envelope.” 

Before K can say anything, the mysterious man turns on his heel and disappears into the shadow. But his eyes catch onto a glint of metal that shines under the moonlight that’s tucked under his cloak, almost completely obscured if not for the bulk of the item being so big. With furrowed eyebrows, K realizes what it was that caught the moonlight’s glint- a government scanner. 

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When K had come to Yuqi the other day after a long winded workout, she hadn’t expected him to say much, let alone reveal something so rattling. His presence never failed to make her unsteady, no matter how much she told herself she trusts him. There was just something in his aura that left the serpent hybrid on edge. Yuqi had expected to be the last person K chose to confide in, memories of her venom searing into his face burned her vision like bright flashes. Yet he was still there, standing before her with something dark in his eyes. 

“Yuqi, there’s something I need to tell you.” There was sweat decorating his hairline as he addressed Yuqi, seriousness hanging in the air based on how he kept his head hung low. 

Yuqi turned to him with an unsuspecting gaze that masked the unease settling in her stomach, “Is everything okay?” 

K seemed to grimace before her and swallowed a growing lump in his throat before speaking, “Not really, no.” He shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “I know my character may not be the most likable, especially after I let things get out of control when I sparred with Heeseung, but I’m hoping you’ll hear me out with honesty.”

“I’m listening.”

K hesitated, unlike him to waver in what it was he wanted to say. “The other day, I overheard Y/n on the phone. Something was off. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, especially because she sounded so distressed- but I heard enough. She spoke about the enforcement division and I learned from there that it was her idea to send the officers in to inspect the building.”

Yuqi’s stomach twisted at K’s reveal. “What are you saying, K?”

“I dropped something by accident, out of surprise. She noticed my presence and hung up her phone immediately. Y/n came straight over to me and told me that if I ever tried revealing what she said, she’d spin it back on me.” 

Yuqi’s mind raced a mile a minute, she wasn’t sure what to believe. Y/n? The same Y/n that was slowly making her way into their fractured community? The same Y/n that spent her vulnerable time cleaning up the team’s wounds after matches, or the same Y/n that held them in her arms when they let their defenses down. That didn’t seem like you. But no matter what Yuqi thought about you, anxiety burned in her chest. 

“Do you know how absurd you sound?”

“Yes…” he said with a strained sigh, “But you know I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t sure of it myself. I was shocked to see firsthand the kind of lengths she’d go to in order for the gym to shut down. She mentioned during one of our conversations that as a phoenix, she wished for the people of Luxta to see the supernatural in a better light. I think exposing the gym was her way of doing that, at least the first step of it.” There’s a tense look of pity on K’s face as he recounts his observations to Yuqi. Despite what he showed on the outside, K  was brimming with excitement and he was lucky that Yuqi’s hearing wasn't good enough to hear the loud pounding of his heart. “For now, I think we should just keep an eye on her.” 

Yuqi’s breath caught in her throat and she kissed the inside of her teeth. “I’ll keep it in mind.” She said with strained tension, but the words felt like lead on her tongue, a poison that was inching its way down her throat like the revelation of your possible betrayal. K nodded and then proceeded to place a comforting hand on Yuqi’s shoulder in a forced reassurance, but she brushed it away. He took that as his cue to leave and gave her a parting glance before disappearing. 

In his absence, Yuqi’s throat felt tight. She couldn’t find it within herself to believe his words. She had watched you from afar, observed you slowly get closer and closer to the boys, with Minnie. The idea of you going behind their backs to betray them crushed her like a vice, like her own serpent tail was constricting her organs from inside. 

Then came the night you approached Yuqi, and Yuqi felt her heart drop a million feet. Your story was so carefully constructed to shift the blame onto K that it almost seemed believable. But his accusation echoed like a drumbeat in her head as she listened to your quivering confession. 

Yuqi wanted to believe, God did she want to trust you. But the weight of her responsibilities overshadowed that benefit of doubt she would have given you had K not come to her first. She was more worried about the safety of her gym and the boys to pay any mind to you as a person. So in a moment of haste, she fired you- and the boys followed. They said hurtful things to your face and Yuqi could see their every word break you down just a little bit more. 

You lost your friends, your job, the family you built with them all within a matter of seconds. She told herself it was for the greater good, but the look on your face was too much; it took everything in her to go through with your dismissal. The last she saw of you was when she forced herself to look away from you and leave the area after firing you. It tore her apart on the inside to see such a shattered looking face on you while also knowing you had the audacity to betray them all. Yuqi wasn’t sure she deserved her own forgiveness- whether it be for letting a traitor into the gym, or for fooling herself into what she thought was a lifelong friendship with you. 

Jungwon, on the other hand, laid awake for days following your departure. He had already had some suspicions regarding K’s integrity, ever since he lost control on Heeseung, he’s remained wary around the older man. Seeing the way K acted after you officially left solidified that little doubt in his mind. He saw first hand how quickly K filled your void. He started to approach Jungwon in an effort to gain his trust, but Jungwon saw through it all. He saw through the forced smiles and practiced words like it was a poorly executed performance.  The cracks in K’s facade were only getting bigger with each interaction Jungwon had with him. 

And it wasn’t just Jungwon that had been approached, but all the others. K’s efforts to get closer- even closer than he was before, increased by tenfold. None of them noticed though, too busy dragging their feet in the ghost of your absence. Jungwon didn’t say anything, but he knew he should. 

He needed to see you. 

After a painful week of sleepless nights and self-doubt, Jungwon decided tonight was the night to confront you, to check in with you. So he gave the maknaes a brief goodbye and waved to his hyung’s before leaving the gym in a hurry. The usual fifteen minute walk to your new apartment felt like an eternity, and the weight of his duffel bag and the burden he carried with him didn’t help. Jungwon wasn’t sure of what it was that he wanted to get out of seeing you, but he was void of any expectations because he knew from a long time ago what a mistake it was to have hope. And the cold wind biting at his red-tinted cheeks only reminded him of that dark resolve. It was colder than usual. 

Given the early hour of the day, the streets Jungwon walks along are eerily silent, quiet enough he could hear a pin drop. Jungwon thrived in silence, but this one felt impending. 

When he turns the corner and comes face to face with the brick material of your building, Jungwon straightens himself. What would he say? Should he apologize? He realizes now that he really should’ve planned this better, but before he can even ascend up the steps to your apartment, he hears a strained gargle coming from your alleyway.  He almost turns away, thinking it’s probably just a stupid raccoon getting into the trash, but he walks down to inspect the noise as a way to delay the inevitable of seeing your face. 

As he walks further down the alley, he squints his eyes and spots a small figure on the ground. Upon moving closer, his eyes catch on something white- the same white sneakers he used to bully you about for always getting scuffed. Before he can even process it, Jungwon jumps into a full sprint. 

When he gets to your side, he collapses to his knees right beside you and ignores the warm feeling of your blood staining his sweats. “Y/n!” He calls in a hurry, scanning your body. “Stay awake for me!” He says as he attempts to shake you awake. 

You barely stir under his touch, a weak groan leaving your lips as he nervously cradles your face. Jungwon winces internally as he takes in the state of your body. There were cuts and bruises marring your face and a stream of blood that was crusted from your nose. Below your face, there was a dark stain of red that was staining your hoodie, and ultimately him as well. You needed help, help from someone that knew how to deal with this sort of stuff. But Jungwon felt conflicted, torn between not wanting to be caught meeting with you but also not wanting your condition to worsen. Deciding in a hurry, he fishes out his phone. As the line rings, he takes a look at the rest of you and dry heaves. 

Though he can’t see much past your clothing, he is able to make out the shape of a boot print left all over your hoodie and a hole where your blood slowly seeps out of. “Shit,” he whispers, pressing a hand to your side. You instinctively flinch under his touch yet again, the sudden pressure having you writhing around in agony. 

“Please- don’t do this K!” You mutter through broken sobs, barely conscious enough to process what was really happening. You choke on the thickness of your blood pooling in your mouth and lurch forward to spit some of it out. “Don’t hurt me, I promise I- I won’t say anything!” 

Jungwon’s heart drops and he rushes to whisper soothing words into your ear. “No, no- Y/n, it’s me, Jungwon. You’re safe.” 

The line finally picks up and Jungwon lets out a strained sigh of relief. “Jay hyung! Please, I need you to come to my location right away.”

“What? Ok, hold on.” There’s some shuffling on the other line and then, “What the hell are you doing at Y/n’s place?” 

Jungwon flinches at his best friend's words, unsure if he made the right choice. But one look at your squirming figure is enough to tell him that he didn’t, “Just get the hell here, Y/n’s been attacked.”

Silence. And then a groan. “What do you mean, attacked?”

“Just get your fucking ass down here, I don’t know what to do, I think she’s bleeding out.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m already in the car. Sunoo is coming with me.” 

Minutes feel like hours as Jungwon presses his hands up against your wound, struggling to maintain the steady flow of blood leaving your body. Finally, when a set of headlights pierces the cold haze of the night, Jungwon’s body slumps. “Over here!” Jungwon calls weakly, finding himself losing feeling in his hands. Jay and Sunoo sprint down to where you and Jungwon are, their faces morphing into horror as they take in the situation. 

From an outside perspective, it looks as though both you and Jungwon were attacked as shown by the blood ruining his clothes. “Jungwon-” Jay says, hurrying to grab Jungwon’s shoulders. The older boy gently pulls him away and whispers comforting words into the panicking boy while Sunoo quickly takes Jungwon’s place. His hands replace Jungwon’s and he winces at the feeling of your blood spread around his palm. 

Jungwon begins to hyperventilate once he’s removed from the situation, the shock kicking in as adrenaline leaves his body. He lays there protectively in Jay’s arms as Sunoo begins to bark commands.  “Jay, grab my phone and call Kim Namjoon.” 

Jay moves with purpose and grabs the phone peeking out from Sunoo’s back pocket, “What should I say?” 

“Tell him to meet us at this address and that he needs to bring his kit. Now.” 

Jay follows Sunoo’s directions, hanging up the phone when said man confirms their location. “Alright, now we need to move her into her apartment, we can’t take her to a hospital.” 

Lifting you is done with delicacy, though it’s excruciating for you. It starts with your arm, the movement sending a splintering pain through your shoulder and you scream. Shortly after getting you up to your feet, a splitting headache swarms your head. You can’t do anything more than scream and let out a string of incoherent words. 

Eventually, you’re moved inside with a shaking Jungwon following after you all. “Her keys- they’re in her pocket.” Jungwon hiccups, his face streaming with fresh tears. Sunoo grabs your keys and unlocks your apartment door slower than he would have liked, but it doesn’t matter. Once the door is open, Jay and Sunoo burst inside and move to set you down on the couch, not caring that your blood quickly makes its home in the fabric. You can buy a new one. 

“Should we call the others?” Jungwon asks, shutting the door behind him.

“No.” Jay is quick to answer as he shakes out his arms, the awkward position of carrying you likely forming a knot in his shoulder. “They’ll freak the hell out and we do not need that right now.” 

In the minutes that follow, Sunoo runs to grab towels and sets them under your body while a knock on your door sounds. Sunoo looks at Jungwon and silently asks for him to get the door. Jungwon runs to the front of your place, opening the door to a tall man with metal framed glasses perched on his nose. “Tell me what happened,” he says, pushing past Jungwon and straight to you and Sunoo. 

“There’s a stab wound to her right side, we can’t manage to stop the bleeding and it seems like her arm may have been broken. I can’t really tell you much else, I’m sorry.” Sunoo sniffles, moving back to let the man open his kit. 

Namjoon works with a sharp efficiency, quickly attaching you to an IV and pushing morphine through the clear tube. As the older man rips open a dressing tray, Sunoo turns to Jay and Jungwon’s confused expressions. “This is Namjoon, a griffin. He fled Luxta many years ago to pursue a career in surgery.”

Jay, more present than Jungwon, looks to his friends with his eyebrows raised. “He went to Chambers, it’s three cities over. The supernatural don’t exist there, so Namjoon could live his own life there freely without the same restrictions we face in Luxta.”

There was little known about what lay beyond the outskirts of Luxta, its borders heavily guarded by government officials as a way to prevent the supernatural from escaping. The few that tried were never heard again. How Namjoon managed to get past them remains a mystery. 

“Namjoon came to Luxta one day and took me in when I was 7. We went right back to Chambers and he raised me as his apprentice until I turned 20. When I became of age, he told me to go back, and said I’d make a difference.” Sunoo continues to explain with a slightly softer voice than before, finally at ease with the way Namjoon works around your body. 

Jay, feeling that same wave of relief, walks over to Jungwon who is slumped against the wall with his head in his knees. “Jungwon…” he whispers, approaching the young boy with concern. He fights the urge to lash out at Jungwon, to scold him for breaking the group's trust and going out to see you. Jay decides to change his approach out of pity for the younger boy, a soft side he doesn’t hold for the other boys.  He couldn’t stand to keep looking at the way Jungwon quivered in the corner and hid in his own shell- it had taken so long to get him out of it when they first started living together, he didn’t want him going back. “Can you tell us what happened?”

The smaller boy looks up with red-rimmed eyes and snot dripping from his nose. He hiccups a few times before speaking. “She- she said his name, K.” His stare is blank as he replays the sound of your screams and sobs- your broken pleas to get K to stop. His heart rips at the memory of you all bloodied and vulnerable, completely helpless and waiting there for death to consume you. Completely unaware of his surroundings, Jungwon’s breathing speeds up and Jay hurries to slide down the wall and sit beside him.

“Breathe for me, Jungwon,” He coos, caressing the younger boy's hair. Jay tucks Jungwon’s head into his chest and looks at Sunoo with despair. “Can you feel your hands?” 

Jay knows Jungwon is panicking, and he knows that when he does, he loses feeling in his extremities. So, he ushers Jungwon to put his hands in Jay’s and begins to massage them, restoring blood flow. “Shh, it’s ok. She’s safe now.” He whispers with every sniffle of Jungwon’s. 

At some point, Jungwon’s breathing calms down just as Namjoon finishes stitching you up. Sunoo takes that chance to look at your body, hoodie sheared off and bruises finally presenting themselves to the world. Sunoo’s heart clenches with despair and a single tear finally makes its debut on Sunoo’s face. The sight of your bruises makes Sunoo nauseous so he looks away.

Namjoon seems to notice the blossom of bruises spanning across your torso and clicks his tongue. He brings out a stethoscope from his kit and presses it over various spots of your body, listening carefully before taking it off. Following that, his hands move to your side and he palpates the area, stopping when you let out another choked sob. “I think she’s broken a few ribs, maybe even fractured some. There’s no way for me to confirm without an x-ray, but I didn’t hear any signs of a collapsed lung, thankfully.”

“Will she be okay?” Sunoo whispers with a shaky voice. 

Namjoon offers him a comforting nod. “She’s a phoenix.  With enough rest and medicine, she’ll be back to normal before you know it. Phoenixes- they’re resilient; they’re self healing.”

Namjoon phrases his words in a way to be reassuring, but he knows they do little to relieve the weight of the situation. From his observations, it seems that these boys were connected to you in a way not many others could relate. 

Collectively, they all turn to Jungwon next for an explanation. He breathes in a shaky inhale. He was gonna have to explain to them why he was visiting you. “I… I’ve been suspicious of K hyung for a while. I’ve had doubts about him since he hurt Heeseung, so I came to Y/n’s to talk about him. But then I found her like that, begging me to not hurt her.” Another river of tears follows before Jungwon can finish. “She- she thought I was K. She thought I was hurting her.” 

Jay shakes his head slowly and sighs, tightening his grip on the younger boy's hand. “I believe you, I know you wouldn’t lie. But, getting the others to believe us is another story…” 

Sunoo chimes in too, “I believe you too. I’ve had my own reservations against K, but I lost focus when Y/n left. I was so consumed with my own grief, I couldn’t see any true colors.” He looks to the ground with shame, lacing his fingers through your limp hand. Though he speaks quietly, his words carry the weight of a thousand apologies. Turning to address you, he croaks out an apology. “I’m sorry, Y/n. We should have never questioned your loyalty to us, your genuineness.”

Jay looks like he’s about to do the same, ready to echo Sunoo’s words, but Namjoon steps forward and demands their attention with just his presence.

“There is one way that we can confirm everything that’s happened.” He says, dropping his voice. “As a griffin, I have the ability to see people’s memories through touch.” 

The room falls silent and Namjoon takes that moment to get rid of his latex gloves. With a softened gaze, he kneels beside you and presses a hand to your cheek. The veins in his hands light up and a rush of your most recent memories flood Namjoon’s mind- fast and overwhelming. The recollection of your most recent memories twists your face into a look of anguish and the three boys standing off to the side can only do as much as exchange a look of pain. They remain silent though, a witness to Namjoon’s powers. 

After what feels like an eternity, Namjoon finally takes his hand off of your face and watches the glow of his veins fade away. He turns to the boys with an unsteady cadence in his breathing. 

“Would you rather I tell you,” he starts with a hitch in his breath, “or show you?” 

Jay answers Namjoon with a look of desperation, “Can you show all of us?” 

Namjoon gives the boy a nod and beckons them forward, settling on the back of his calves as the three boys crowd around him. He grabs Sunoo’s hand, who is standing in the middle, and tells the others to press their foreheads to Sunoo’s temples. 

When they move to connect themselves to Sunoo, visions of what Namjoon saw surge through their own minds. It hits like a tsunami, all at once and unrelenting. Tears fall from Jay’s closed eyes as he watches through your own point of view the discovery of K’s betrayal. His heart clenches with guilt, heavy with shame as he helplessly observes you battle with the strain of his secrets, your own health deteriorating at the hands of K.  

Sunoo doesn’t fare much better, trembling with a coil of shame that’s daring to burst at any minute. He squeezes Namjoon’s hand tighter with every passing second, wincing at the way the boys looked at you when you were let go. The quiet accusation in their eyes, he feels everything- your heartbreak, your isolation, your despair. He wishes he could take it all away, erase what you saw, but it’s too late. 

And then the attack. They listen to the words exchanged between you and K. A tense back and forth that only leads to you being slammed against the wall. Visions of you twisting violently in the grasps of your attackers flash through their minds, a reflection of your pain surging through their bodies, but at a fraction of what you actually felt. 

Jungwon gasps and stumbles away from Sunoo before the memories can get too vivid. He clutches his  stomach in pain, absolutely nauseated by the memory of your attack. It was too raw, too vivid for him to watch. He didn’t want to see first hand how you came to be a sad, pitiful lump of flesh in the middle of your alley. Yet, Jay and Sunoo stay, faces twisting into looks of anguish as they finish the rest of the attack. 

When Sunoo breaks the connection, Jay drops to his knees and scrambles to your side, clutching at your hand with a gut wrenching sob.”Y/n, fuck.” He pleads through a wave of tears, “I- I’m so sorry. What- what should I do?” There's a storm of guilt thundering beneath his skin and it takes all his willpower not to scream out. Sunoo watches Jay’s grip on your hand tighten to the point your skin turns white. 

“Don’t, don’t hurt her more.” He says quietly, placing a hand over Jay’s. 

Jay hesitantly listens to Sunoo, easing up on your grip and falling back. He drops his head and presses himself to the back of your hand. “Yuqi and Minnie, can you show them? And the others?” 

Namjoon responds with a strained voice, “I can.” He pauses, resting a hand on Jay’s back. “Not now, later. I’ve done what I can, she just needs rest now. Would one of you be able to stay with her?” 

Jay’s head snaps up immediately, his hand shooting up in the air, “I can do it.” He says with a look of determination. He barely registers Sunoo’s bittersweet smirk. 

“Good, I’ll see you all tomorrow at the gym.” Namjoon says before guiding the other boys out of your apartment. 

When your apartment door shuts, Jay finally allows himself to crumble. He rests his head against your thigh and relishes in the feeling of your warmth- a reminder that you were still here, still breathing. Without blinking, he watches the ragged rise and fall of your chest, a minute detail that barely keeps him grounded. The boy lets out a shaky breath, face damp with tears as he lets the weight of his guilt cave in on him. 

How could he make this right? Would he still be able to reclaim that bond he once had with you? Just thinking about you refusing to accept him back into your life makes his chest tighten, the ache of turning his back on you spreading like a slow poison. How could he forgive himself for clinging onto K in your absence, led blindly by his false narrative. He could only blame himself for his misplaced trust, and it killed him inside. It killed him that he could’ve stopped your attack from happening if he had just listened. His head feels like it’s going to explode with the relentless pressure of his thoughts. Drained of any energy he once had, he shakes his head and carefully picks you up, arms carrying the emotional weight of the situation more than the physical. 

Your body is limp in his arms and it makes Jay wince knowing that you're completely helpless in his presence, relying on him to keep you safe; something he didn’t feel very deserving of right now. You are like a rag doll in his arms, your consciousness having fled from the face of trauma. With a heavy heart, Jay carries you to your bedroom and as gently as he can, places you in your bed. 

He tucks the comforter around your body and then moves to pick the stray pieces of hair stuck to your face. In that moment of strained serenity, he focuses on the sound of your breathing. It should comfort him, ground him to know that you’re safe now, but it doesn’t. It only serves as a recipe for the bitter knot forming in his throat. 

He can’t bring himself to leave you alone, not after everything that just happened. So rather than retreating to the living room to give you the privacy you rightfully deserve, he hesitantly creates a makeshift bed right beside you on the ground. Just a few pillows and a throw blanket thrown to the ground is enough. He lies flat on his back with his hands clasped together across his stomach and lets his mind drift off. 

He thinks about you. About that stupid pull-up contest you roped him into on your first day, a catalyst for the impending competitions you’d share with him in the next few months. He thinks about your trust, and how you made every effort to look past his flaws and see him for who he is. All those times you laughed with him, an ache growing in your abdomen from laughing so much. It’s a punishing reminder of what he’s just lost. 

Several hours pass before you begin to wake up. Your eyelids feel heavy, like they’re weighed down by the events of last night. But you force them to open, blinking away the dryness that impedes your vision. Immediately, you feel pain shooting all over your body. You try to sit up anyways but a sharp throb radiating around your side keeps you from getting far. 

Suddenly, vivid memories of last night flash across your mind all at once- the cruel voice of K in your ear, the recollection of him treating you like a mere rag doll. You squeeze your eyes shut, willing the memories to go away but they don’t. It happened, and it rips your heart apart. You feel as though you’re reliving the experience, every painful minute of it. 

You’re unaware of the fact that you’re hyperventilating until a hand rests on your shoulder. The touch comes suddenly and you flinch away from it, crying out in pain. “Y/n! It’s Jay. You’re safe, you’re safe.” He’s desperate to reassure you but he can’t help the way he repeats the last words like it’s a reminder to himself too. 

When you open your eyes, you see Jay. He looks horrible, eyes brimming with tears and a frown on his face that’s so broken you almost weep. But you don’t. Instead, you scowl at the mere reminder of him turning his back on you, leaving you in the dust.

You try to scream at him, to curse him out for being so selfish and leaving you without a second thought, but nothing comes out. Only a strangled moan leaves your throat. “Y/n…I-” his voice cracks with emotion and he coughs, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, there are not enough words in the world to express how sorry I am. I should have believed you.” He stares at the floor as he chokes out an apology, but you stay silent. Though you don’t have much of a choice. 

Jay knows his apology is only a bandaid over a gaping wound, but it still hurts him to see the anger on your face. Simmering just beneath your anger is a hollow ache that chases after your heart and you’re not sure if his words will be enough to fill it. 

You spend the rest of your day in bed with Jay doing everything he can to make you comfortable. A tense silence clouds the air, acting as an unspoken barrier that he doesn’t dare to break. You’re not speaking to him either- not because you don’t want to, but because you physically can’t. And you know all you’d have to say to him is a string of curse words and insults you probably wouldn’t mean a few days from now. 

With your voice shot, you have to rely on a bell to get his attention, but even with the bell, Jay doesn’t need it- constantly hovering around you every five minutes just to check in on you, afraid you’ll disappear if he looks away for too long. And every time he enters the room, he’s sporting the same broken look from before. It’s a look that haunts you when he changes your bandages, or when he feeds you, even when he’s adjusting your pillows; it’s the same solemn look every time. 

It’s a repetitive cycle that lasts throughout the entire day, him tending to your every need without you so much as lifting a finger. He does all of this in a painstaking silence, but you can feel the weight of his sorrow leaking past your defenses. But it’s too fresh, too soon to start unwrapping what’s been weighing on everyone’s minds lately. You’re afraid of confronting reality. 

Outside of the protection of your home, word of your attack reaches the rest of the group. Coincidentally, the news breaks on a day that K is nowhere to be seen, though his absence does little to alleviate the strain on Jungwon and Sunoo’s chests. The weight of yesterday’s events make every breath they take sharp and painful, like it’s stealing their air. 

They start with Yuqi, finding her at the front desk of the Dawn gym spinning around in her chair. “Yuqi,” Jungwon calls out, greeting her at the front. She quirks a brow at the three men, glancing at Namjoon who was a few feet behind him and Sunoo. “This is Namjoon- he’s a griffin.” 

“Yuqi, there’s something important we need to discuss. We need everyone.” Sunoo says with an uncharacteristic seriousness in his tone. 

She seems to hesitate for a second- something she’s started doing since the night you left, but nods her head and takes them into the Dusk gym. “Okay… Care to explain why you’re being so ominous?” She asks, a lame attempt at a joke. She can sense the tension, she’s not stupid. But with her confidence rattled, she’s not sure what to expect. 

Jungwon only shakes his head at Yuqi and anxiously awaits the arrival of the rest of the group once they reach the benches. When he sees the others approaching them, he starts to pick at his fingers, but Sunoo notices and takes his hand to hold in his. As the group settles around the benches, Sunoo steps up to speak, granting Jungwon the much needed reprieve he’s silently desired for. “Y/n was attacked last night.” 

Sunoo’s words hang at a stand still, like they’ve rendered the world of its ability to keep turning. He feels himself trembling with anxiety and he relies solely on gravity to keep him anchored. The silence is overwhelming, practically suffocating as he waits for his words to process through everyone- but it doesn’t last long. 

Sunghoon breaks the silence with anger, voice sharp and bitter that brims with the memories of your earlier betrayal. “I’m not surprised. Karma will always make its way around eventually.” 

Sunoo clenches his fist at his sides, heat rising through his body like a steaming pot. “You hate her that much?” He asks with a slight waver in his voice, struggling to control the anger at bay. The rest of the boys keep their eyes glued to the ground while Sunoo stares at him with a fury he’s never felt before. Jungwon must notice because he desperately tugs at Sunoo’s sleeve, an attempt to get him back on track. 

Sunoo lets out a forced exhale and straightens his posture, quickly pushing away the heat building in his body. “I’m going to choose to ignore that,” he starts, shooting Sunghoon a glare. “This is Namjoon, he’s a griffin. He can show you the truth.”

Before Namjoon can step forward, Jungwon chimes in, “Where’s Minnie?” He asks, noticing the lack of a second female from the group. 

“She called in sick.” Yuqi answers, focusing her attention on the older man behind him. 

Namjoon then steps forward with a solemn expression and reaches out for Yuqi’s hand. “I need you all to hold hands with Yuqi in the middle. This way, you’ll be able to see the same vision, the same truth.” 

The boys link hands as directed, a connection between the group eventually forming. Namjoon doesn’t say anything more, only closes his eyes and lets his veins light up again. Jungwon looks away once he sees the familiar radiance pass through his hands, the scene in front of him only acting as a harsh reminder of what happened just last night. 

Seconds pass by and then the first gasp. Yuqi’s heart drops and her face contorts into a twist of horror, the truth crashing through her like a tsunami. The first of your memories flash through her; the phone call, K’s voice, everything. The same fear that you felt when K caught you rips through Yuqi’s body like she was there herself. She was wrong, she was so wrong.

The boys react in varying degrees. Heeseung’s breath hitches and his guilt suddenly begins to eat him alive as he watches you deal with the burden of carrying K’s secret. Niki isn’t doing much better, a few stray tears slipping past his cheek as he clenches his jaw. And Sunghoon, usually so composed and well kept, screams in silence.The realization that they had it all wrong weighs heavily in their hearts, though Sunghoon remains motionless. The weight of their collective mistake scratches their insides like a hungry beast. 

And then it happens.

A strangled gasp rips from Sunghoon’s throat and he breaks off the chain, immediately finding eyes with Sunoo. He takes a step forward but Jake, who has also let his hands go, rushes to hold him back, unsure of what the frost elf was about to do. “She’s safe.” Namjoon says, taking his own hand back and pushing them into his pockets. “Sunoo, Jungwon, Jay and I worked together to make sure she’s stable.” 

“That fucker-” Sunghoon seethes, eyes glowing blue. “I’ll kill him!”

While Sunghoon thrashes in Jake’s grasp, the werewolf trying his hardest to keep the frost elf calm, Yuqi loses her grip on reality. “Oh my God…” She breaks her silence and brings a hand to her mouth, pupils expanding with her panic. “She was telling me the truth.” The serpent falls to the ground, body trembling as she clutches her burning chest. An unrestrained sob rips from her throat and a tear finally falls from her eyes. Sunoo winces; watching Yuqi- someone he grew to admire- break in front of him. 

“I need you to get up, Yuqi.” Sunoo says through gritted teeth, residual anger still lingering in his body. When she stands, body swaying slightly, Sunoo continues despite the growing lump in his throat from suppressing his tears for so long. “So now you all know what really happened. Y/n never lied, and the consequence of telling the truth was her being brutally attacked.”

Standing behind him, Jungwon flinches, startled by Sunoo’s sudden aggression. “Hyung- please…” he whispers, his hand reaching out to the older. 

Sunoo shakes his hand away from the boy but mentally kicks himself for his hypocrisy. He knows he harbored the same doubts as they did, but his resolve to fix what they so easily broke is persistent. The only way he could forgive himself was to get the others to come together. “We need to get rid of K.”

“And how the hell do we do that?” Jake asks, his mind crowding with thoughts as he finally lets go of Sunghoon, albeit reluctantly.

Heeseung, who was silent until now, steps forward. “We tell him the truth. If his mission was to give the government information, he’ll have to find another way. Kicking him out will keep him from monitoring us.” His voice holds steady, but on the inside, he’s crumbling. Burdened with the knowledge that you were left in the dark and faced only with the backs of those you trusted, he experiences an ache that could only be the equivalent of a stake driving through his heart. 

The room falls into a heavy silence, but an unspoken sense of unity slowly develops under the tension. With their eyes meeting under the harsh lights hanging above them, they nod their heads and redirect their grief towards getting rid of K. Memories of his betrayal echo against the walls of the gym, the place where it all started and the place where it’d all end. They just had to find him. 

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 That following night, Jay and Y/n lie awake beside each other, yet it’s the furthest they’ve ever been emotionally. In the silence, Jay twiddles his fingers. “Y/n…” His voice pierces through the darkness of your room, quiet, but unmistakably there. “Are you still awake?”

You tell yourself not to answer him, to not give him the satisfaction of knowing your wall was slowly falling, but that stubborn part of you that’s been desperate for some semblance of comfort, doesn’t care. “Yes.”

Jay can’t say it surprises him when he hears the thorn in your voice, despite only giving him a one word answer. He doesn’t have the liberty to wince, only repent. Your simple response is like a betrayal to the storm that’s been brewing inside you the past few nights, ones that were never captured with sleep or rest. Night after night, you’ve woken up in a cold sweat gasping for air, memories of your own demise playing through your mind like a film reel. Not just K, but the undead too, the sickly stench of decay follows you like they’re still there, still holding you captive in their brittle arms.  You’re suffocating. 

“The others know, now. Yuqi and Minnie. The boys. Everyone.”

So why hadn’t you seen any of them- is what you want to ask, but you stay quiet. 

“They all feel awful.” He adds quickly, like he needs to reassure himself that it wasn’t just him that felt guilty.

You scoff with a bitter taste on your tongue, “They should.”

The anger, the rage that’s been building up over the last few days , suddenly courses through you all at once. You no longer feel an ache in your chest which has been overflowing with feelings of betrayal and abandonment, that was foreign now. All you felt now was a rage as hot as the flames you produced. “Not a single one of you gave me the benefit of the doubt, or stood up for me when I needed you guys the most.” You spit with accusation heavy in the words. 

“Y/n… I-“ he starts, but you cut him off. 

“Don’t say it.” 

You sit up suddenly, a sharp ring blaring in your ears when you do, but you ignore it. Jay’s laying on the floor with the blanket from your living room clutched in his hands, eyes dark with regret. “Don’t say sorry. Not again.” You seethe, bending forward to grab a fistful of his hair. “If you were really sorry, none of this would’ve happened.”

His face flashes with pain and he lets out a groan, throwing his hands up to your wrists in an attempt to get you to let go. “Y/n, please- I’ll do anything for you to forgive me.” 

Without a second thought, you clutch at his hair even tighter- the sudden power surging through your body. You were desperate for control, you needed something- someone- to break. “Come here,” You say. Your words are quiet but they burn with authority. 

The older boy moves to sit beside you, frantic eyes searching your face. “Wh-what do you need?”

“Kiss me.”

He freezes, but you don’t care. “If you’re really sorry for what you did, you’ll let me use you.” 

There’s a brief moment of silence, one that’s just long enough for you to second guess your words, but he leans forward, cutting you off from your thoughts. He presses a gentle kiss to your lips and you preen under the intimacy, but it’s not enough. Not nearly enough to quell the fire growing inside you. 

“Harder,” you mutter, grabbing at the back of his head and pulling him towards you. Your next kiss is fueled with rage and desire, a complete juxtapose from the one just seconds ago. Your fingers twist the locks of his hair painfully and he groans into the kiss, a pain he slowly learns to crave for more. You slip your tongue into his mouth and swirl it around his own. It’s lewd and messy, spit exchanging between your mouths and falling past your swollen lips as you move your mouth against his. He closes his lips around your tongue, gently sucking on the muscle until you pull away. 

Breaking the kiss with only a string of saliva keeping you connected, you push his chest back until he’s laying flat on your bed. His breath catches in his throat as he watches you straddle his lap. “Y/n-”

“Shut up, just stop.” You say absently, settling into his lap and riding his shirt up his chest. He presses his mouth closed when you move to drag your fingers down the outline of his abs, tracing the subtle contour on his stomach. They flex under your touch, sensitive to the tips of your fingers. “So pretty,” you whisper to yourself, pressing your full palm to his stomach. Seeing him underneath you, lust quickly fills your thoughts and you grind down on his lap. It doesn’t do much to satisfy the growing need flourishing in your core, but it’s enough for now. 

His golden skin seems to glow under the moonlight shining through your window, shimmering against the sheen of sweat that’s quickly started to form on his abs. Your fingers move with a mind of their own, crawling upwards until they capture his nipples in the pads of your fingers. The pinkish-brown of his nipples perk up immediately, hardening in an instant under your touch. “Fuck…” he says through a sigh, throwing his head back onto your pillow. 

“Am I making you feel good?”

“Yes- Y/n, fuck.” 

Your fingers continue to twiddle with his nipples, his sudden twitches only stirring you on. With his quiet moans prodding against your defenses, you lean down and take one of them into your mouth. Your tongue swirls against the bud and Jay lets out a string of curses, throwing his hand up to hold back your hair. “Yes, keep doing that.” He pleads, gripping your hair tightly. 

You continue to flick your tongue against his nipple until your jaw aches for a break while you mouth at the bud. When you lean back, you flip your hair to the side and grind your ass down into his lap, earning a throaty groan from the boy. “Will you let me ride you?” you gasp between the back and forth of your hips. 

He nods hurriedly, throwing his hands to grab at your waist. You’re about to tell him off, but he starts to move your hips in tandem with your swaying and it extinguishes the scolding that rests on the  tip of your tongue. For a moment, the both of you enjoy the small act of desire as you use each other’s body to get off, but you quickly grow impatient when you feel the hardness of his cock underneath you.  “God, you make me so mad.” You say, feeling yourself let the anger run its way through your body.

You quickly get off of him and move to pull his shorts down, only leaving him in a pair of boxers that are stained with precum and his shirt that you had ridden up earlier. “This looks painful,” you say, palming at his bulge. 

He catches his bottom lip in his teeth and sucks in a gasp. “You like it when my hands are on your cock?” You ask, tracing the outline with your finger. 

Jay doesn’t manage more than a meager nod as you tighten your grip around his member, sliding your hand up and down. He’s achingly big in your grasp and it throbs with your every touch. Practically drooling for something to fill you up, you pull his boxers down and he springs free. His abdomen quickly stains with his precum and you lap at the shine, smiling up at him with your tongue sticking out.

You move off the bed to strip yourself of your panties, but a wave of hesitance washes through you and you freeze. You're completely out in the open for Jay to see and it burns a pit in your stomach, reminding you of your earlier vulnerabilities in the alley, but he quickly places a hand on your thigh and caresses it, sensing your unease. The sudden wavering of your confidence eliminates any sense of dominance you managed to exert on him and you melt like putty in his hands.  “So pretty, so beautiful.” He says quietly, holding eye contact with you as he gestures for you to sit back on him. 

The timbre of his voice unnerves you, extinguishing what little confidence you once had. You move to sit back on his lap again, your juices soaking his cock as soon as your folds wrap around his member. The heat of his arousal melts into your core and you shudder, “Move, baby.” He says, hands finding purchase on your hips. 

You begin to slide your hips back and forth, letting your arousal spread over his cock until it’s drenched in your slick. With every grind forward, the tip of his cock prods at your clit, eliciting a sharp gasp from Jay each time. “Put it in, princess.” He says, stilling your hips. 

Jay grabs the base of his cock and keeps it still for you as you sink down his length, the sudden stretch drawing out a wanton moan from your throat. “Mmph-” you moan out and bite your lip when the tip of his cock kisses the hilt of your cervix. With his cock breaching your body, you relish in the feeling of being full again. While temporary, that empty feeling in your belly quickly fills with a fire that blossoms further with your every movement. 

“You’re taking me so well, princess.” He praises, watching you with admiration in his eyes. “Will you take this off for me?” He tugs on the end of your shirt and you quickly rid yourself of the fabric, revealing the absence of a bra underneath. His dick twitches in response and he quickly moves his hands to hold your tits. “That’s it, baby.” 

You put a hand on the center of his chest to anchor your weight as you grind on his cock, his navel stimulating your clit whenever you push your hips forward. “Bounce, baby, ride it correctly.” He grunts, pushing your hips up slightly. 

“God, I hate you.” you whimper out, feeling his hardness slip in and out of you as you move to adjust yourself.

“I know, baby, I know.” 

It’s as though the heat of his touch is working to unravel the string that’s been knotted around your heart, guarding your weakest vulnerabilities. You fall weak to the closeness of his body, an intimacy you had been craving since you were let go. Your body subconsciously surrenders itself to him and dampens the strength of your anger. 

He squeezes his fingers around your hips and helps to lift you up and down his cock, the two of you working in tandem to reach the highs of your own pleasure. The drag of his cock moving through your pussy draws out a series of moans that you can’t hold back. He wraps his arms around your waist and brings you down to his chest, changing the pace of your act and thrusting upwards instead.

You feel vulnerable in his hold, exposed- but you finally begin to breathe. Your bitterness towards Jay still lingers, but it’s no longer the centerpiece of your emotions. Before you can stop it, tears begin to sting your eyes and your next blink has them falling down like a downpour. “Let it out, baby.” Jay whispers, stroking your back as he slows his thrusts. “I’m here for you now, I’m never gonna leave.” 

You sit back up and lean your hands back onto his knees, giving him full view of your body. Your hips move up and down on their own and you throw your head back in pleasure, all while your heart brims with an unresolved anger. Every one of your suppressed emotions seem to make their debut in the heat of the moment, your body slamming down onto his hips as you cry out. Pleasure erupts in your lower core and you shudder around his length, cumming until the girth of his dick is wrapped in a creamy white. He keeps going.

He bends his legs so that he can plant his feet on the bed and thrusts into you aggressively, “You can take it, I know you can.” He grunts, squeezing your hips till they’re sure to bruise later. The force of his thrusts easily have you jostling about in the air, your grip on reality slipping as a familiar coil of heat forms in your stomach again.

“Jay-” You clench down hard on his cock and push against his chest to ground yourself. “I’m cu-cumming again!” The words barely leave your lips before waves of pleasure surge through you. Jay brings a hand down to your heat and toys with your clit, orchestrating the peak of your pleasure so that you can ride it out for longer. 

As your shaking reaches an end, he moves his hand back to your hips and roughly flips you over onto your back. He throws his shirt off and throws it somewhere without a care in the world before continuing. “You’re doing so well for me, baby. Keep taking my cock, yeah, just like that.” He says while pistoning into your throbbing cunt. “Your pussy feels so good wrapped around my dick like this.” 

“I- I can’t, it’s too- too much!” you stutter through each thrust, feeling the bundle of nerves down there light up like a fire. The intensity of his fire makes you squirm underneath him, his lustrous gaze penetrating you. 

His thrusts begin to meet with an equally desperate desire to have him closer to you and you grab at his neck and pull him into a messy kiss. Your fingers trail past the ridges of his dragon scales, armoring him from your desperate claws as he fills you to the hilt. The feeling of his scales has your stomach twist with arousal, the unnatural hardness of his body only fueling your lust. “You- you feel so good, Jay.” You gasp between thrusts. 

He pulls away from you to see his cock disappearing into your pussy, the sight of him buried so deep inside of you making him twitch with desire. “Fuck, I’m close.” Jay grips your tits in his hands as he works towards his orgasm with fervor, incoherent words escaping his lips every few seconds. 

You arch into his touch, feeling on fire from the way he ravishes your body. He pants between thrusts and you move a hand up to his nipples, pinching the delicate bud between your fingers. Your touch pushes him over the edge and his hips stutter to a sudden stop. With one last snap of his pelvis meeting your ass, the most erotic moan leaves his mouth and he shoots his cum into you. The pit in your belly heats up and you drink his moans up like a drug, gasping along with him. He leans over you and drops his head, proof of his efforts meshing with your own sweat.

Exhausted, you pull him back in for a desperate hug, suddenly feeling your heart sting. He flips you onto your side with his member still keeping you connected to him. “You did so good, baby.”

It seems that the release of Jay’s arousal has dampened the fire in your heart and so you cry out, both from pain and pleasure as Jay continues to coo into your ear. “I- I hate what you did to me,” you sob, the intensity of your harboured emotions suddenly rushing out. In an act of desperation and vulnerability, you inch forward to bury your head into the crook of his neck. “You broke me, all of you.”

Jay just listens, soothing you through the caresses on your back and the humming of his voice. His cock softens a bit inside of you and the tip is starting to become overstimulated, but he doesn’t make any effort to pull out. You needed this, you needed his closeness. “I know, baby.” he whispers absently, moving a hand to card his fingers through your hair. 

Maybe it was the crash from your high, but you find yourself shaking in Jay’s hold. The intimacy you craved for so much in that week you were alone, you were finally getting it. You continue to sob into his chest, not minding the trail of tears that started to decorate his sun kissed skin or the snot that unceremoniously rubbed on him. It was like a storm of loneliness was pushing its way to the surface, gripping you from Jay’s embrace. You mind was your own worst enemy, blocking you from the solace that you desperately need. 

“Let it out, Y/n. I’ll be right here to hold you up,” It pained Jay to see you like this. So broken, so shattered. You were usually so confident and walked with an unwavering authority that he had grown to admire, but it was all gone now. The you he used to know was dead and it was all his fault.

Slowly, Jay slides out of you and tongues his cheek when he feels his cum pour out of you and onto his thigh which was slotted between your legs. He needs to clean you up, but the iron grip on his body prevented him from doing so. “Baby, can you let go for just a few minutes?” Your desperate whimper could have been mistaken as a cute refusal to not let him go, like you were wanting to cling onto him like a koala for just a little more, but it wasn’t funny in the slightest. It was dark and embarrassing and it stripped you of your defenses. 

You feared for your life and so you finally let yourself feel Jay’s body on yours. You couldn’t let that go. He was so easily taken from you with just a few manipulative words from someone else, what’s to say he wouldn’t leave again? Anyone could take you, hurt you, the moment he leaves. The cocoon he holds you in feels like your last bit of resolve, the strength of your fire dimming with each passing second. So you clutch onto him even tighter. 

Jay uses every fiber in his being to pry himself off of you, “I’ll be right back, Y/n. I just need to clean you up.” The cold of his absence hits you immediately once he disappears into your bathroom, only the sound of him rummaging around acting as a reminder you weren’t alone. The feeling of his warm skin no longer being held in your fingers suddenly feels foreign and you grasp at the bed sheets as a desperate attempt to replace that pitiful feeling. When he comes back, he has a damp washcloth in his hand. 

“I’m gonna clean you, ok?” His voice is spoken in a soft whisper and he gently pries your legs open. A wet cloth prods at your folds, but it’s warm and you feel your body melt into the sensation. Jay moves meticulously between your legs so as to not aggravate the tissue down there, trying his best to not bother you. It collects both of your guys’ essence and when he finishes, he goes to toss the cloth into your washing machine. Coming back, he plants a delicate kiss on your shoulder and slides back into the bed, pulling you into him. 

“What do I do?” You feel like your insides are ripping apart. Part of you wants to stay mad at them all, to never forgive them. But the other, lonely part of you that’s still stuck in your isolated past, craves their touch. 

“You take it one day at a time, baby. And I’ll be right here the entire time.” He presses his hand to the back of your head and brings his lips down to yours and it’s so delicate you don’t even know if he really kissed you. “I’m so sorry for everything, and I’ll spend the rest of my life working for your trust and forgiveness.” 

A stray tear slips from your eyes and he quickly wipes it away with his thumb, “Don’t cry, love. Things are going to be okay.” 

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“I just don’t get how someone so nice could have done something so deceptive?”

“I know, but red roses have black shadows soo.” Jungwon answers, crossing his legs over each other. “He may have seemed perfect on the outside, but he was harboring a multitude of secrets on the inside.” The boy looks at you with a fragile expression, a bittersweet reminder of your attack. His eyes were glossed over as if the memory was still fresh in his mind, and for a second, you wonder if Jungwon blames himself for what happened. You can see the shame on his face, the way his dimples no longer show or the way his eyes no longer shine when he speaks. You wanted to reach out, tell him that everything was okay, but everything was not okay. 

“I’m not glass, Jungwon.” You tell him with a firm voice, pushing yourself up from your couch. The fabric was still stained with remnants of your attack. As much as you rubbed at it with a heavy dose of stain remover, it seemed like the red would never fade away. Unfortunately, the stain remover was only so strong, and so were you. 

Jungwon follows your movement as you move to the kitchen, watching as you occupy your hands with the dirty dishes in your sink which have managed to pile up since you returned to the gym last week. “I know that, Y/n. But we don’t know where K is, he could be waiting for a chance to jump from the shadows and attack you again.”

The subtle reminder of your attack twists the knife K had plunged into your side that night, ripping you open and leaving you bare. You felt so small despite your repeated efforts to appear strong. All your life, you wished for freedom beyond the four walls of your parents’ apartment, and eventually your own. You yearned for freedom, whispering it against every birthday candle you blew out alone. And you had it, until you didn’t. For so long, you desired a sliver of freedom, only for it cost you your safety when it was finally in your hands. Exchanging your freedom for your safety was a cruel bargain that you didn’t know would happen, like it was hidden in the fine print of your metaphorical contract to life. You could never truly exhale until K was found and the world knew who you were. 

K hadn’t been seen since the night that Namjoon had visited. It sat in the back of your mind like an anchor weighing you down from looking up. His absence was like a double-edged sword: a relief that he was gone, yet there was a terrible sense of dread that was left in the wake of his disappearance. Not once could you shake the feeling of being watched, but you kept quiet. Whether it was smart or reckless, you weren’t sure, but you know you’ve been more of a burden than you’d like. The boys didn’t need another reason to glue themselves to your side like a second shadow. 

When you first met with them again after your attack, you weren’t sure what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t see them on their knees with tears stinging their eyes. Sunghoon, ever so guarded and trapping his heart in a layer of ice, was the most devastating of all. He was trembling on his knees, begging, pleading with you to meet his gaze. “Please- please…” he had whispered, his face paler than it normally was. 

And Heeseung, who was usually so composed and well kept, seemed empty. His eyes were no longer that vibrant red you had grown so used to. Now, there was a haze over them that flickered like a dying ember. He couldn’t meet your gaze, but he repented his regrets to you like a mantra. 

Jake was no better, and if he had an actual wolf tail and ears, they would’ve been pressed back with his tail tucked between his legs in shame. He had pushed himself against your leg and looked up at you like a kicked puppy. He murmured sorry over and over again until the weight of his regret tired him out so much he fell asleep at your feet. And you stood there, all two hours of it, looking at him as he slept, subconscious whimpers wracking his body, until you could find it within you to forgive him. 

So maybe yelling at them and cursing them out didn’t end up happening, but you still felt that anger and betrayal deep within you like a scar. But like it had with Jay, your desire for human touch trumped your resolve to stay mad at them. 

Yuqi, Minnie, and Niki had also apologized to you- groveled, really. They confided in you about their remorse and how much your departure weighed on their minds. It was a mess of tears and whispered promises to never leave each other again. 

Since that night, you were never left alone again.

The boys were relentless in their protection, trailing every foot step of yours. Heeseung had even insisted on accompanying you to the washroom at the gym, “just in case” he said as he shrugged off your concerns. And Jake even scented you, committing your scent to memory so that he’d always be able to find you no matter how far you were. Sunghoon was no better, insisting he be the one to walk you to and from the gym like a personal escort. Their protection was bittersweet, filling you with a sense of love and security, but also acting like a metaphorical cage that felt all too familiar. 

And today was no different. While the boys had begun to back off, keeping you in their field of vision rather than following you around, they were still hyper aware of their surroundings. K still hadn’t come back despite two weeks passing since your attack. The boys were expectedly on edge, checking corners and keeping tabs on you like he could pop out of nowhere, and he did. 

A horribly loud crash pierces through the peace of the gym and you flick your head back to see what happened, but you see nothing. Before anyone can even move, the one way door to the gym slams open and a mirage of men in black, tactical gear storm in with guns holstered and riot shields protecting their front line. A smoke bomb is chucked into the air and lands with a blinding fog that quickly surrounds the area. 

“Y/n, get behind me!” Jake shouts above the chaos, sounds suddenly mixing into one big blur as he pushes you behind him. 

The gym erupts into chaos- panicked shouting from all over and bodies moving so fast you can hardly keep up through the haze. In the cloud of smoke, you spot a pair of red eyes- Heeseung- rip past you. Not far behind him, another figure follows after him- Yuqi. 

Her voice booms through the gym, “The government is here!” 

As the smoke finally clears up, you steal your first glance at your group fighting with the soldiers head on. A horrible realization dawns on you right then, you were outnumbered. There’s several dozen soldiers storming into the gym now and for a second, you think this is the end. But then you see your gym members flying past you and putting themselves in direct line of fire. 

Heeseung’s familiar red tendrils move through the air and pick up soldiers left and right before slamming them back into the ground. You hear the disgruntled screams of soldiers being thrown around by his shadows while the owner of the tendrils works through the crowd one by one at supernatural speeds. 

Yuqi mirrors the same ferocity as Heeseung, relentlessly attacking the first few soldiers she comes across. Searing venom shoots off her tongue with deadly precision, burning the eyes of those it lands on. She’s relentless in her attack, her snake-like grip allowing her to throttle the soldier’s throats like an iron vice. 

Sunghoon jumps into action at the same time as Heeseung and Yuqi. He’s quick to coat the area around him in a layer of ice and gracefully advances through his own wave of soldiers, ice blade slicing through their torsos and an ice-forged shield knocking others off their feet. 

In the corner of your eye, Niki and Jay fight side by side. The younger shifts in and out of his kitsune form and pounces from soldier to soldier, alluding them with horrific visions and auditory hallucinations, allowing Jay to use that momentary distraction as a way to burn them all to ashes. 

You’re still with Jake, who is leading you over to the locker room. He’s about to hurry you in, to tell you to stay there until it’s safe to come out, but a piercing scream interrupts him. Your eyes flick towards the sound and you spot Sunoo who has broken the glass of the staff room that hangs over the gym. He sings  his heart out, temporarily paralyzing every soldier.

You use this distraction to escape Jake’s hold, finally free of your own mental captivity. He shouts after you but it’s no use, you’ve already teleported to the front lines in a flash of flames. You flash balls of fire at the men in quick sequence, watching them fall to the ground as they writhe about in agony. Your fire’s not enough to kill them, so you pick them off one by one by forcing their skulls into the ground with your foot, your super strength aiding you in this unique endeavor. As you work through the men, you see Jungwon in the background, working with Minnie to blind soldiers and disarm them of their guns. 

In the midst of all the chaos, you had barely registered the fact that the soldiers were armed. Your heart sinks at the realization, the fact that they had the one thing that could instantly kill you all, dawning your mind like a storm. Despite the supernatural gifts that you all possessed, you knew your bodys’ would not be able to withstand the threat of a bullet. In your own moment of realization, a soldier surges forward and slams the butt of his rifle into your skull. 

Pain rips through your head like an explosion as you hit the ground, your vision going white. Forcing yourself to gather your bearings, you bring a hand up to your head and quickly let your flames seep into your skull, kicking your regenerative abilities into action. You blink through the dissipating pain until finally, your vision comes back- just in time for you to lock eyes with your attacker: K. 

The sight of him has your stomach churning in waves, his twisted smile rekindling the flames of that night. Your breath catches and you feel your throat go on fire as bile rises upwards. You can’t move, your body locking up and freezing over with fear. Despite the shock to your system, you force yourself to call out, to scream as loud as you can, “It’s K!”

In the midst of all the movement, your voice rings through the space and draws every gaze towards you. The boys’ have a look of dread on their face, only onlookers to the sight of you on the ground faced with a domineering K. “Kill her!” K’s voice booms through the chaos, black tendrils rising from behind him like a second pair of arms. 

Yuqi’s world seems to still in that moment. Being the closest member to you, the men she was just attacking divert their attention to you, drawn by K’s voice. In that crucial moment, memories flood Yuqi’s mind and she’s reminded of your abilities and the research she took it upon herself to conduct when she hired you. In that same storm of memories, she also recalls the fierce protection the boys have over you, the way they would break under their own rage if they saw you get hurt. 

A sickening realization settles in Yuqi’s mind. You needed to die. She knew in her heart that you’d survive, make it to live another day, but the others didn’t, and she needed to use that to her advantage. 

So, Yuqi decides to stay still. Jake’s voice cuts through the chaos as he screams to Yuqi, screams at her to do something, but she stays rooted to the spot. Eventually, Heeseung, Sunghoon, and the rest begin to join in, their voices increasingly desperate as they beg Yuqi to save you, too far to make a difference themselves. But she remains unmoving.

In the middle of their desperate shouting, the cluster of soldiers surrounding you increases and K moves in on you. His black tendrils wrap around you like a halo and slowly shroud your vision and intoxicate your air. Then, the first gunshot rings out and your chest explodes with pain.

Taglist: @heesimp, @kyunlov, @quill-ink, @lunaritex, @jiryunn, @jakeswifez, @fancypeacepersona, @nshmrarki, @ikaw-at-ikaw, @wilonevys, @strxwbloody, @capri-cuntz, @riribelle, @machambrx, @vousty, @rebeccakan, @wonnienyang, @koizekomi, @heeweenie, @skyearby, @rxlxvr, @missychief1404, @doveblackboat, @prkhoonielvrss,

Permanent taglist: @kittys00, @ikaw-at-ikaw, @17ericas, @tunafishyfishylike

[brandileigh2003]

Older wolfstar fic recs: (older in age that is)

let me know what I missed and self recs are welcome (also as always check tags for each one to protect yourself)

~~~please give these authors love, fandom engagement with writers is down and it means more than you know. ~~~

**And I know older is relative term bc most of these wolfstar are in their 30s I do believe. But. They have more life experience than in Hogwarts or uni.

--orange juice (i've been ready for you to come home for so long) by raggedypond: divorced parents of teddy with one bed at his graduation

-Honey If I'm Not by @brigid-faye divergent post war where remus left, jily lived, and wolfstar only reconnects years later by chance. (Also has a Sirius pov)

---used my best colours for your portrait by @littleoldrachel lie low at Lupin's with flashbacks exploring remus' life

-Looking for Moony by Writer_INFJ_2w1: meet and fall in love birthday party

-Flight of Destiny by @lucigoo lesbian wolfstar meet on plane (Luci also has several others where they're older and lots of beautiful fics

--Aging Gracelessly by orphan_account: texting fic

--the mayors of simpleton by fruity_individual divorced wolfstar get back together, raising teddy

-Second Generation by MsAlexWP single parents, getting back together. The sequel is so perfect too! It's a Nice Day for a Wolfstar Wedding

-the sea is a good place to think of the future by peachyybabe (second in series is mcd but this one is open ending)

-Of Memories and Milk Thievery by moonymoment raising teddy, get back together

--Birthday Blues by YouBlitheringIdiot @blitheringmcgonagall :Sirius is turning sixty and he is appalled...

--Give Quarter to Old Men - @krethes series

--dear your holiness by mollymarymarie

--The Postwar Chronicles by @sliebman10 post canon series

-Vigil Strange I Kept by whitmans_kiss explores effects of lycanthropy

--ten reasons (to go to michigan) by @greyeyedmonster-18 remus headed home, trying to move on from divorce

--Prettiest Star Verse by Raging_queer

-I didn’t sign up for this by Moonystoastandmarsbar divorced wolfstar

-Of Protein Powders and PTAs by @squintclover and @tracingpatternswrites rivals to lovers

-An Infinte Ocean by orphan_account raising teddy strangers to lovers

--The Road Not Taken by @mollymarymarie

-extra credit by MsAlexWP rivals to lovers

-Baby On Board by aqua_myosotis

-Of Memories, Bitter and Sweet by MsAlexWP memory loss

**luci's recs

-my love, take care of yourself by littleoldrachel

-How to romance a guy with (terrible) poetry by BayleyWinchester

-Teddy Plays Matchmaker by grow_as_we_go

-The Front Step Surprise by R33sesPieces

**Recs from others** (I haven't read all these yet but wanted to include)

--Just what the doctor ordered by WrappedUp (be aware there is age gap)

--The Lab by de_sire again an age gap

-Till We Have Arrived Home Again by prouvairing divergent post canon raising harry

-The Patchwork of Us by TracingPatterns

-The Things I Did by Lolo_row

-The Phoenix Agency by LupinsChocolatePraline

-The Fall by EuripidesTrousers

-Pages of You by wolfpants this is drarry main but apparently background wolfstar is really good

-Just Like Heaven by the_prettiest_w0lf_star: mechanic Sirius and librarian Remus

-soloorganaas

-impishtubist

***Self rec***

--Memories of You: mcd exploring memory loss

--Through the Years: Sirius thinks about the past and how handsome his husband is while holding their granddaughter.

--DN(R): Lie low at Lupin's era where they discuss decisions Remus made in the lost years.

**also- the wolfstar librarian is always a great resource make sure to give some likes on posts: 30yo and Up part 2 Bring Black Back Back from the Veil Lie Low at Lupin’s Post Azkaban Grimmauld Place

--Feel free to check my other rec lists, as well as the rest of my fics

--also ... This is list of canon divergent fic recs: post-azkaban, bring back black, lie low at lupins. Lots of same fics but I might not have all in both places.

[roosterforme]

Pink Christmas Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley just wants to make Christmas special for your daughter, and he's nervous he might have blown his cover as Santa. As Christmas Eve approaches, he pulls out all the stops for the two of you. But will you let him give Ellie everything from her wishlist?

Warnings: Fluff, language, single mom reader, mentions of loss of spouse

Length: 7000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Pink Christmas masterlist. Check out my masterlist for more! Banner by @mak-32. Written for @bellaireland1981 Winter RomCom Challenge

Once you started kissing Bradley, everything came back to you. Fingers in his soft hair, your body pressed to his, and his tongue softly caressing yours. You knew just what to do, and you didn't want to stop. When his big hands came to rest on your back, you couldn't even remember why you'd been nervous in the first place.

Your thumb found the rough stubble and slightly raised scars on his cheek at the same time you heard your front door knob rattling. When you pulled away from Bradley's lips, you looked up at his handsome face and smiled, completely distracted as your daughter let herself inside. You pulled free from Bradley's warm embrace just as you heard Ellie ask him, "Who are you?"

Bradley licked his lips as he examined your face with his pretty brown eyes. Then he turned his full attention to your child. "Are you Ellie?" he asked, and when she nodded and set her backpack down, he reached out to shake her hand. "My name's Bradley. I'm a handyman from the North Pole."

"A handyman?" she asked, shaking his hand firmly. "What does that mean?"

"Means Santa sent me here to set up your pink tree, because he got a little busy this week," he replied so smoothly, you almost believed him yourself. 

Ellie gasped and looked past him into the living room. "Santa got my tree!" she gushed. "Mommy!"

"Yeah," you replied with a laugh. "Santa really knows what he's doing."

Bradley looked at you with a little bit of a blush coloring his face, and you were shocked to find that you instinctively wanted to reach for his hand and kiss that pretty shade of pink on his cheeks. You barely managed to stop yourself as he took a step toward you. 

"That was close," he muttered, watching Ellie run her hands along all of the ornaments that she could reach. But you were still busy looking at him, because his response to your daughter was what had you melting inside. He had a soft smile on his lips as he laughed. "I think she likes her tree."

You rubbed your fingers along the back of his hand, and his gaze met yours immediately before falling to your lips. "I think so, too."

He nodded toward the door. "I should go," he said slowly. You didn't know how to tell him that for some reason you knew your house would feel too empty if he left right now. When Ellie spoke up, you could have hugged her for her brilliant idea. 

"Mommy, is Bradley allowed to stay for pizza?"

You let go of his hand as Ellie came back over with one of the pink heart ornaments. Then you and she both looked up at him as he asked, "Am I allowed to stay?" He looked a bit like a wayward puppy as he added, "I love pizza."

Your heart swelled at the idea of him in your house a little longer, maybe sharing a few more secret touches. "Of course you can stay."

Ellie reached out and took him by the hand, dragging him toward her playroom, and he went willingly as she asked, "Do they have pizza at the North Pole? Which one of Santa's elves is your favorite? I liked Phoenix the best, but I liked grumpy Hangman, too."

Her voice faded as she rambled on, and you could hear Bradley laughing. Then you were alone in the pink glow of the tree as it grew darker outside, and you took your phone out to order pizza just like you always did on Friday nights. But for the first time in a long time, you couldn't stop smiling. 

---------------------------

"I've never played dolls before," Bradley said as Ellie picked one up to brush its hair. 

"That's okay," she replied, handing him a different doll. "I'll show you how. It's not really that hard. Just brush her hair and make her look pretty for the party we're taking them to."

Bradley grunted and picked up one of the toy brushes. "I think I can handle that."

A few minutes later, he was very into coordinating which outfit his doll was going to wear to the birthday party they were going to be attending. "How does this look?" he asked her, and she handed him a pink ribbon. 

"She needs a bow in her hair."

"Right," he muttered, and he tried a few times, but his fingers seemed to be too big to get it right. 

As he was struggling with it, Ellie paused what she was doing and said, "You seem really familiar."

"Do I?" he asked cautiously, still fighting the bow and hoping she didn't immediately realize that he was in fact Santa Claus. 

She was quiet for a beat before she said, "I think you remind me of my dad." Bradley's eyes met hers, but she didn't look sad or upset, just resigned. "He was good at dolls, too. But not tying the bows."

Then Bradley felt your hand on his shoulder as you said, "Do you need a hand?" He nodded and passed the doll to you, watching as you made it look so easy to tie the perfect bow. "Pizza will be here soon," you said softly, handing the doll back to him. 

"Thanks," he whispered, still surprised by your daughter's words. Somehow it didn't make him feel nervous or weird to be compared to your late husband. But it did come with a sense of responsibility of sorts. He already ordered Ellie her pink art kit, but he found himself just wanting to spend time with the two of you. The kisses had been one thing, but playing dolls and eating pizza seemed natural as well.

When the food arrived, Bradley hopped up and tried to pay for it, but you'd already put it on your credit card. So he snatched your wallet out of your hand and pulled tip money out of his own for the delivery guy. And if he was able to get his arms around you in the process and press a soft kiss to your cheek, it was just a bonus for him. Then he watched you cut a slice of pizza in half for your daughter as you tried to hide your smile from him. 

"Where did the flowers come from?" Ellie asked, pointing at the big bouquet and the smaller one. 

"Santa sent them with me," he replied, picking up the small one so she could smell them. "He told me that you and your mom both like pink."

"Santa knows everything," she said as she nodded, and Bradley smiled down at her. "I want to eat by the tree," she insisted when you handed her a plate and a juice box. 

"Yeah," Bradley agreed as he picked out some slices of pizza. "Me too." So you handed him a juice box as well, and he followed Ellie back to the living room with a smile. The three of you sat on the floor in a little circle next to the tree, and Bradley regaled the two of you with made up stories about the North Pole. Ellie was in stitches, and you bit your lip every time she laughed, your smile absolutely infectious. 

Bradley ended up eating Ellie's pizza crust as you cleaned up the plates, and he knew it was time for him to leave. It was late. But he was nervous he wouldn't see you before Christmas Eve when he planned to come by as Santa. 

"Mommy, can Bradley come back and look at Christmas lights with us?"

You paused as Bradley stood up next to the pink tree, and then you said, "Ellie, I'm not even sure where to go for that in San Diego."

"I could ask Santa," Bradley blurted out. "I'm sure he'd know the best spots in any city to see Christmas lights."

"Yeah!" Ellie agreed. "Santa would know!"

You only hesitated for a second before you said, "Only if it's not going to take up too much of your time."

Bradley patted Ellie on the head and said, "I can make time for that. Let me get back to the North Pole and ask Santa where the best lights are. Thanks for teaching me how to play dolls." Then he met your gaze and said, "And thanks for the pizza."

"It's our pleasure," you told him, echoing his own words from the other day. 

He swallowed hard; the urge to lean in and kiss you was so strong. He fought it though, because he knew he had another excuse to see you both again soon. Then he forced himself toward the door. "I'll be in touch," he promised, and when he opened the front door and stepped out onto the porch, he noticed Ellie's gaze settle on his Bronco, a look of curiosity on her face.

---------------------------

You were a mess the rest of the weekend, texting Bradley late into the night on both Friday and Saturday after Ellie was in bed. You found yourself continually peeking at the selfie he sent you like a kid trying to find their Christmas presents early. He was just that damn good looking.

More importantly, he was sweet. He had invited you and your daughter to join him on a drive down to Imperial Beach to look at lights on Tuesday night, and of course you'd immediately agreed. 

Ellie and I wouldn't miss it.

Bradley 'Santa' Bradshaw: I'll pick you up at six. I already have a little treat for the ride.

You giggled and flopped down on your bed, eyeing your wedding photo across the room. "I really like him," you said out loud with a grin. Then you texted Bradley back.

What kind of treat?

He must have been holding his phone, his response came that quickly.

Bradley 'Santa' Bradshaw: Something pretty and sweet, just like you. I absolutely can't get you off of my mind. Not that I'm trying very hard.

"Okay," you said out loud, finding it easier to give yourself a little pep talk when he got you flustered like this. "You can do this. Be cool."

I thought you looked cute in your Santa beard, but your real mustache is even better.

There. Flirtatious but not too much. A solid response. You gave yourself a little pat on the shoulder. But then he upped the ante just a tiny bit by sending a selfie of him blushing. You groaned, because his mustache was immaculate, and you wanted to get your lips all over his cheeks and see if you could make his blush deepen.

Bradley 'Santa' Bradshaw: I've been thinking about our first kiss on repeat. When Santa shows up on Christmas Eve, are you going to kiss him, too?

You laughed as you texted him back.

Yes. I think I have a crush on both of you.

Then you got yourself into bed, knowing it would feel like a very long wait for Tuesday night to arrive, but you fell asleep with a smile on your lips when he wrote back.

Bradley 'Santa' Bradshaw: Then I feel doubly lucky.

--------------------------

It was honestly a good thing you had so much to do for work, because it took your mind off of your nerves. But when Tuesday evening finally arrived, your hands were shaking as you tried to get ready in front of your bathroom mirror. You kept looking at the most recent text in your thread with Bradley, and it was bringing out your anxious energy. It was a simple message with a photo attached, but now you were second guessing everything. 

Bradley 'Santa' Bradshaw: I hope I look good in pink.

He did. He looked fantastic in his pink and black floral print shirt. That wasn't the issue. It was your daughter's words echoing through your mind as she stood in the bathroom doorway that had you rattled.

"Hey, Mommy? Is Bradley going to be your boyfriend?"

You looked at her as you tried to put on some lip gloss. "Do you want him to be?"

"Maybe," she replied, eyes narrowing a bit. "I just need to do a little more research and make sure he's the one I asked for."

You almost laughed. You would have if you weren't so nervous. "What kind of research? And what do you mean the one you asked for?"

Ellie just shrugged in response. "I'll take care of it. You look pretty, Mommy."

Your throat felt tight as you swallowed against the thing that was really bothering you and whispered, "If Bradley ever does become my boyfriend, he's not going to replace the memory of your dad. Understand?"

Ellie nodded and sighed sadly. "I understand. But you said he's not coming back."

"He's not," you confirmed softly. The sharp, stabbing pangs of sadness had dulled a bit over time, however you still felt one now. But you'd also spend days doing some soul searching over the fact that you knew you were attracted to everything about Bradley. You didn't feel as hesitant around him as you thought you would after losing your husband. After more than a year alone with Ellie, you felt like this could be something.

Then your daughter helped you push your thoughts aside as she said, "Bradley was pretty good at playing dolls, and I could teach him how to be even better. And he looked like he was good at holding your hand."

"Oh," you gasped, setting your makeup aside. You didn't think she'd seen that, but she didn't seem upset in the least about it. "Yeah... he was good at it."

"Is it almost time to go look at lights?" she asked you just as your doorbell rang.

"Oh god," you groaned softly, butterflies and unidentified nerves erupting inside you. What if you did something stupid tonight? What if you didn't even know what to talk about?

"He's here!" Ellie called as she ran for the front door with you right behind her. And when she swung the door open wide, there he was in his pink shirt with a bright smile on his face and two, oversized pink candy canes in one hand. 

"Hey, Ellie," he replied easily as she beamed up at him. Then he looked at you and his smile faltered a bit. He swallowed, and it took him a few seconds to greet you. When he did, it was just one raspy word. "Hi."

"Hi," you replied softly, and the butterflies were still going wild, but the nerves were replaced with longing. "Bradley."

Ellie was reaching for the candy canes, and he patted the top of her head, but he was still looking at you. "Hi," he repeated, and you couldn't help but laugh. "See, talking to you in person is way better than texting, even though you take all the thoughts out of my brain and all the words out of my mouth."

You ducked your head to the side and covered your embarrassingly large grin with your hands as Ellie asked, "Are these for my mom and me? Santa's usually the one who brings us pink treats."

"Oh," Bradley replied, "well, these ones are from me. I hope that's okay. I saw these fancy candy canes at the North Pole sweet shop and thought of the two of you."

Ellie was already unwrapping hers, and Bradley held the other one up right in front of his chest with a grin, coaxing you closer. "Thank you for the treats. And for taking us to look at lights," you said, letting your fingers meet his as you took your candy cane. 

"It's my pleasure."

------------------------

Bradley didn't know really how booster seats worked, but you moved one from your car to his Bronco, and then Ellie climbed in. 

"Are we ready to look at lights?" he asked as he started the engine. 

"Yes!" she replied from the backseat. "Did Santa tell you the best place to go?"

"He absolutely did. And he remembered that you liked pink, so I'm thinking there might be a special surprise for you."

"Special surprise?" you asked from next to him in the front seat. It had been so long since he'd had even one passenger let alone two. When your fingers came creeping across the leather seat, he reached for your tentative hand and held it tight in his. 

"It's a surprise for you, too," he promised, hoping you had no idea what the grand finale of the drive through light show was going to be. 

You laced the fingers of your left hand with his right, and Bradley had to take a calming breath. He hadn't felt this strongly about someone in a long time, and he just met you. But his brain had already been filling in the blanks of how good it might feel to be around you the longer he got to know you, because the chemistry was definitely there. 

He glanced at your profile at a red light and reached with his left hand to turn on the radio to the station that was playing Christmas music. Then he pulled your hand a little closer to him as the light turned green, and he could see you smiling out of the corner of his eye. "How's that candy cane?" he asked Ellie, glancing in the rearview mirror. 

"Good! It tastes like cotton candy."

"Do you like cotton candy?" he asked, noting you were still holding your treat in your right hand.

"All kids like cotton candy!" Ellie squealed with a laugh.

"I like cotton candy. Does that make me a kid?" he asked her as he turned left toward the beach, the darkest streaks of pink and purple running along the horizon behind the setting sun.

She giggled in delight and so did you. "No, you're too big," Ellie told him. "Nice try."

"Harsh," Bradley muttered as he made another turn, and then the enormous light display along the beach came into view. "Okay, here we are." He turned your way as he pulled up to the kiosk to pay, saying, "I'm going to need my hand back."

You immediately pulled your hand away from him and hurriedly said, "No problem," as he reached for his wallet. 

He chuckled and said, "It's coming right back to you once I pay, so don't get too comfy."

"Oh, I can pay!" you tried to insist as you scrambled for your bag on the floor by your feet, giving Bradley enough time to hand over some cash and pull through the gate toward the light displays. 

"Absolutely not," he said as you gave up and tossed your bag back to the floor. "Now where did your hand go?"

You turned to look at him before glancing back at Ellie who was mesmerized by the lights all around the Bronco. "Right here." And then Bradley felt your hand slip into his grasp where it already felt like it belonged. 

"That's better."

He barely took his foot off the brake pedal to keep coasting forward behind the car in front of him, and he hummed along to the music on the radio. Ellie's commentary from the backseat was pretty amusing with her occasional interjections of "Frosty!" and "Rudolph!" 

The light display was massive, and there was a long line of cars in front of them, which was great. Bradley didn't want to rush taking the two of you back home again. Especially not when you leaned in a little closer to him and whispered, "Thanks for this. She's having a great time."

Bradley came to a stop in front of a lit up display of ice skating penguins and turned to face you. "So am I. Been having a pretty great time since I met the two of you."

You whimpered, and Bradley squeezed your hand a little tighter as he fought the desire to lean in closer and kiss you. Then you whispered his name, and he nearly lost the battle. "Bradley. Are you still going to want to see us after Christmas?"

When he opened his mouth to tell you he wanted to see you every day, Ellie gasped in the backseat. "It looks like Santa's sleigh!"

Bradley turned to face forward, and sure enough, Santa's sleigh was just ahead, and the other cars had started to move up as well. "Sure does," he replied to her as he coasted forward so she could see. Now you were looking at the lights as well, and Bradley watched all the colors dance across your face. When you tilted your head to look at him, he said, "I'm going to want to see you as much as you'll let me."

A soft smile curled along your lips as he kept moving the Bronco forward. You didn't respond, but your fingers laced with his again, and Bradley could feel your thumb stroking along his. He took that as a pretty good sign, and then you and Ellie both started to laugh at the same time.

"Hey," Bradley said when he saw them, too. "A bunch of pink flamingos for my two pink loving girls."

"I love them!" Ellie gushed, clapping her hands as Bradley pulled up between two light displays of hundreds of flamingos wearing Santa hats. "So much pink!"

Then your lips were on his cheek before brushing back toward his ear, and he had to stop the Bronco again as your hand grazed his knee. "This is the best," you laughed softly. 

If you wanted to, he'd bring you both back tomorrow and the next night and the night after that. He wanted to watch your face illuminated by the pink lights as you bit your lip and smiled. He wanted to hear Ellie's laughter from the backseat while she sang Jingle Bells. 

Bradley moved the Bronco as slowly as he could so you could enjoy the flamingos for as long as possible. Then he drove through fake snow being blasted at all of the cars which somehow made him feel like he was back in Virginia again.

"I do not miss the snow," you told him, cradling his hand like you did this all the time. He very carefully pulled back out onto the road using one hand, because the last thing he wanted was to let go of you. 

"But Mommy, what if it's snowing at the North Pole?" Ellie asked. "How will we visit Bradley?"

Shit. He didn't know what to say, because he didn't want to confuse her or mess this up. "Maybe after the busy holiday, Santa will let me spend a little more time in San Diego so you don't have to brave the snow again."

Ellie hummed skeptically from the backseat as Bradley wound his way back through the neighborhoods on the outskirts of the city. "Yeah... that might work," she replied. "I'm going to have to stay up on Christmas Eve and have a conversation with Santa."

"I'll remind him to bring his A game," Bradley muttered. "Now let me drop the two of you off since you still have school tomorrow."

---------------------------

You watched Bradley lift Ellie out of his Bronco, and then he moved her booster seat back to your car for you. When he walked both of you up to the porch, he had his hand at the middle of your back, his fingers teasing at your waist in the cool, night air. When you approached the front door, however, he knelt down in front of Ellie and asked, "Did you have fun?"

"Yes!"

"Should I tell Santa that was a good light display?"

"Yes!"

"Did you like the flamingos?"

"So much!" Then she flung her arms around his neck and said, "Thank you." The fact that your daughter seemed perpetually happy around this man whether he was dressed as Santa or just being himself had you nervously wiping your palms along your jeans.

"You're welcome. I'll see you soon?" he asked, patting the top of her head as he stood, eyeing you as he asked the question. 

"Yes," you answered quickly as you opened the front door. You paused once Ellie walked inside, and you turned toward her. "Start getting ready for bed. I'll be up in just a minute."

"Okay. Bye, Bradley."

"Bye, Ellie," he replied with a laugh, but you were already pulling the door closed, leaving you and him alone on the porch together. 

"Hey, I had a great time-" he began, but you cut him off when you lunged for him. You couldn't help it. Bradley caught you in his big arms, and wrapped you up tight against him as he grinned. "-with you tonight."

Your fingers were tangled in his soft curls as your lips mashed against his, but even with you pressed right up to his body in desperation, he was a gentleman. His hands were splayed across your back, rubbing up and down, slowly bunching the fabric of your shirt.

"Me too," you promised between kisses, nodding slightly as you nibbled on his lip. He hummed softly as your hand drifted down to the back of his neck, and he deepened the kiss. His tongue tasted sweet, and you felt beautiful and desirable when you were with him.

But you broke the kiss and whispered, "I need to get Ellie in bed."

"Right. Right." He was still holding you close, still slowly rubbing your back with his hands. And then you kissed him one more time, because you needed to. It was soft and perfect just like Friday when you helped him decorate the tree. "I'll see you soon," he whispered as his nose grazed your cheek.

You felt your whole body tingle as he pressed one more slightly rougher kiss to your lips before turning back to his Bronco. You had to fight the urge to chase him down for more, waving like an idiot as he pulled away instead. There were just a few more days until Christmas, and you wondered if it would be too forward of you to tell him that he's the only thing you wanted for yourself this year.

---------------------------

Bradley took a deep breath as he pulled on his red flight suit and grabbed his matching hat and white beard. It was getting late for Ellie to still be awake, but you'd promised him it was okay to stop by around 9:30. He wasn't quite sure what to expect, but he hoped she was still excited to see Santa. 

With Christmas music playing and wrapped gifts on the front seat, Bradley spent the drive over trying to decide how to explain to your daughter that he was the same person when he was dressed as Santa and when he was just himself. Just Bradley. And then he started to get antsy. Just Bradley. He didn't have much to offer to either of you. Just a guy who occasionally got deployed and suddenly liked the color pink.

When he parked in front of your place, he sat for a minute, afraid he was going to do or say the wrong thing. If Ellie still believed in the magic of Santa Claus, he didn't want to take that from her. He glanced toward your front window and saw movement. The two of you were dancing in front of the lit up pink tree, and a smile found its way to his face. 

"Just be Santa," he said out loud, snatching up the presents and closing the door behind him. 

With his beard and hat securely in place, he knocked and immediately heard Ellie squeal. "It's Santa! I just know it!"

And then she was there, swinging the door open so quickly, Bradley was surprised it stayed on the hinges. "Merry Christmas," he greeted, getting the wind knocked out of him by the five year old launching herself at him and by how cute both of you looked in your matching pink snowflake pajamas. 

"Santa!" Ellie gushed, reaching for his hand to lead him inside. "We made you some heart shaped cookies with icing!"

"I love that," he replied, but his eyes were stuck on you. Bradley could just tell you'd welcome a kiss from him right now, and he wanted to give you one, but instead he followed you over to the tree.

"Cookies and some hot chocolate," you told him, picking up a plate of sweets and that same mug he drank from last week. "Just for you, Santa."

Bradley set down the presents, including the art kit filled with every shade of pink paint anyone could possibly want. That's when he noticed that instead of eating the pink candy cane he gave you on Tuesday night, you'd hung it on one of the tree branches. He was already smiling when he saw the little box with a gift tag next to his boot that said "TO: SANTA. FROM: ELLIE."

"This is for me?" he asked, bending to pick it up. 

Ellie nodded, looking up at him hopefully. "I made you something."

"Well then I'm sure I'll love it," he replied. 

He was just starting to unwrap his gift when Ellie turned toward you and asked, "Mommy, would it be okay if I talk to Santa alone for a minute?"

Bradley's fingers stilled as you nodded and softly said, "I'll just go sit on the steps." You bent to kiss the top of Ellie's head before smiling softly at Bradley, and then you were gone. And he was alone with a child who was eyeing him with such curiosity, it made his heart beat a little faster.

Ellie tugged on his hand until he was kneeling, and then she leaned in a little closer. Bradley felt like he was under a microscope as she examined him, but then she smiled. 

"You were a very convincing fake Santa. But after you brought the tree over, I knew it was you right away, Bradley." 

"You did?" he asked, heart plummeting as her words washed over him. If he just ruined Santa Claus for this adorable little girl, he didn't know what he'd do with himself. 

"Yeah. I figured out that you were the same guy since both Santa and Bradley drive the same car and have the same voice."

Oh, shit. His eyes went wide as she pulled his beard down below his chin and smiled at him. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't actually intend to lie to you about being a North Pole handyman."

"I know," she said, taking his gift from his hand and opening it up for him. Inside the box were two Christmas ornaments. They were made out of construction paper with popsicle sticks glued to look like pictures in frames, and there were ribbons attached to the top so they could be hung. 

"Ellie," he whispered, taking them both out of the box to inspect them more closely in the soft, pink light. She'd taken the time to draw pictures on both of them. The first one said ELLIE and had a well drawn F/A-18 and some elves along with a pink candy cane and three flamingos. The other ornament said SANTA and was complete with pink flowers, a pink tree and a picture of a man. "Is that supposed to be me?" he asked her softly.

"Yeah. But just you, Bradley. Not really Santa."

"Thanks," he muttered, not sure how to tell a five year old that this was perhaps the best gift he'd ever received in his adult life.

But now she was standing with her hands on her hips. "I need to know what happened when you went to talk to the real Santa after the air show. And don't lie to me this time."

"What do you mean?" he asked, heart beating faster again.

"Since you got permission to dress as a pretend Santa for kids like me at the air show, you get to sometimes talk to the real Santa Claus, right?"

Oh. Maybe he hadn't completely fucked this up after all. "Of course. That's how it works when you get chosen to be a Santa representative."

"Yeah," she said, nodding like a CEO closing a business deal. "That's what I thought."

"You're a very smart kid," he told her with a smile, but clearly she wasn't quite finished with him yet. 

"So? What happened when you talked to him? Did Santa know you'd be perfect? Is that why you kept coming back to our house to see my mom?"

"Perfect?" he asked cautiously.

She grinned at him as she said, "Yeah. The perfect boyfriend for my mom. The one I asked for."

Bradley was speechless. That's what he wanted to be. Your boyfriend. Maybe more than that someday. His eyes roamed Ellie's face, so innocent in the way she still believed there was magic here. But maybe there actually was. "Yes. That's exactly what happened, Kiddo. I went to meet with Santa, and I told him what was on your wishlist. And I told him how important it was that you got everything you wanted since you're always on the nice list."

She clapped her hands and bobbed up and down. "And he knew you'd be the perfect boyfriend?"

"Yeah," Bradley said, throat tight with emotion. "He knew I'd fall for your mom and you and the color pink and just all of it."

She hugged him tight, and he scooped her up and hung both homemade ornaments on the pink tree. "Merry Christmas," she whispered.

"Merry Christmas," he replied. "Think it's okay if I talk to your mom now?"

She nodded, and he carried her to the stairs where you were sitting with your own mug of hot chocolate waiting for them. "You ready for bed, Ellie?" you asked, looking between your daughter and Bradley with his beard down below his chin with some concern. 

Then Ellie kissed his cheek and said, "Goodnight, Bradley," as he set her down on the steps next to you. 

"Night, Ellie," he replied, and he watched her kiss you too before climbing the stairs and going into a room that was lit by the soft glow of a nightlight. And then you and he were alone, and you were sliding over to make room on the step next to you.

Your hesitant smile made him a little lightheaded as you asked, "So she knows you're Santa from the air show?"

He chuckled softly. "Something like that. But don't worry, she still knows that the real Santa exists. She's got quite the imagination."

"Yeah, I don't think I'll ever have to worry about that," you replied, setting down your mug and reaching for his hand. It was the easy way you laced your fingers with his once again that spurred him on. You were grinning as he leaned in to kiss you, his white beard tickling your chin. "Hi, Santa," you whispered against his lips, and he just knew this was how it was supposed to be.

When he pulled away from you with a smile of his own, he said, "There's something I need to tell you. About the day we met."

Your brow creased in concern, and he leaned in to kiss you there as you asked, "What about the day we met?"

He wanted to be delicate with you and take his time. It's what you deserved. You and Ellie both. But he also wanted to once again make his feelings crystal clear for you. "That first day, at the air show... when I took Ellie up to sit in my jet, she asked for a pink tree and an art kit with pink paint." Bradley paused, stroking his rough fingers along your soft cheek before he added, "But she also asked Santa to bring a boyfriend for you."

You gasped. "She did? My five year old asked Santa to bring me a boyfriend?" You buried your face in your hands and groaned softly. "That's so embarrassing."

Bradley gently peeled your fingers away from your face as you grimaced at him, but he just laughed. "It's not embarrassing. It's sweet." He waited until you were looking at him again, even though you were nibbling on your lip a little anxiously. "And the thing is... somehow, I think it's supposed to be me."

When your lips parted on a soft sound, your face looked hopeful, and Bradley squeezed your hand as you barely whispered, "You?"

"Yeah. Me," he told you with a little laugh. "I'm nothing special, but I'm hoping you'll let me give Ellie everything she wants for Christmas?"

You slowly climbed onto his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck, your eyes bright and sincere. "You want to be my boyfriend?"

"Desperately," he promised. "And I'm not trying to replace Ellie's dad, and we can do this at whatever pace works for the two of you. But I think this was meant to be."

And then you were smiling against his lips and kissing him as he held you on the steps. You laughed as you pushed your fingers through his hair, sending his red hat down the stairs followed by his beard.

"Then I guess Ellie can have everything from her wish list."

------------------------

One year later....

"The tree looks beautiful," Ellie said, hanging up the two ornaments she made last year as you and Bradley each sipped mugs of hot chocolate. The pink Christmas tree stood tall and proud in the same spot it had occupied until February, when you finally convinced her it had to come down after Valentine's Day. 

Bradley had gone overboard, perhaps even more so than last year, coming home from work a few hours ago on Christmas Eve with more pink ornaments for your daughter to add to her collection. 

"You're spoiling us," you told your boyfriend, and you watched a grin bloom on his lips. But maybe you were spoiling him back just as much. This year, you and Ellie had on matching pink pajamas covered in gingerbread cookies, and Bradley had coordinating pants to wear with his white undershirt. It felt good to have him here, like he was always meant to step in when he did. 

"I love spoiling you," he whispered, taking your empty mug and collecting you in his arms. "I love spoiling both my girls."

You and he took things slow at first. He spent the night with you last Christmas Eve, his limbs tangled up with yours in your bed. But your clothing had stayed on, and his lips never went further south than your neck. After that, you fumbled your way through a few dates with him; sometimes Ellie joined the two of you, and sometimes she stayed with Bradley's best friend and former elf, Natasha. But you quickly learned that you hadn't forgotten how to be with someone intimately. All you needed was the right someone who would let you realize that for yourself.

Bradley moved in with you a few months ago, and you hadn't looked back. He was becoming an expert at playing dolls with Ellie, and he made both of you so happy, sometimes your face hurt from smiling so much. He wasn't a replacement, and he wasn't an improvement, but he was something you knew you couldn't live without now.

"Hey, I almost forgot," he murmured. "I grabbed two more things on my way home today. I'll be right back." 

When he left the living room, you walked over to Ellie and kissed the top of her head. "I'm really happy we got Bradley for Christmas last year," she said, making you laugh.

"Me too. It's a good thing you asked Santa to bring him for me."

She looked up at you with wide eyes and a little smirk. "Just wait until you find out what I asked for this year."

You looked down at her with an amused smile. "What did you ask for this year?"

But she was distracted now as Bradley came back in with a soft smile on his lips and two small pink boxes. He knelt down in front of Ellie and handed her the bigger one, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "Merry Christmas, Kiddo," he whispered.

"Merry Christmas," she told him, and when she opened the box, you gasped. 

"Bradley."

He got your daughter a rose gold necklace with a pink diamond charm, and Ellie squealed in delight when she saw it. "It's so pretty!"

"Just like you," he said, taking it out of the box and clasping it around her neck. She wrapped one hand around the charm and smiled as Bradley turned to look up at you. "I got something for your mom, too."

At first, when he handed you the smaller box, you were convinced it was a necklace to match Ellie's. But then you met his eyes, and you knew it wasn't. Your heart was racing as you looked at him, fingers shaking with anticipation as he said, "I love you. So much. The last year with you has been magical, and I want to be here forever."

You glanced at Ellie, and she was all bright smiles as she bounced up and down as you opened the box. "Oh," you gasped, because it was the prettiest pink ring. And it did match her necklace.

When you looked up from the box and met his eyes, he asked you something that you already knew the answer to. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes!"

You held the box tight as he stood and spun you around the room in his arms, his soft laughter filling your heart as Ellie loudly cheered, "I asked Santa for a husband for my mom!"

You laughed as Bradley smothered your face in kisses, and then he pulled the ring free before tossing the box aside. As he slid the rose gold and pink diamond ring onto your finger, he grinned and said, "Santa never disappoints."

------------------------------

Happy holidays! I hope Santa Bradley brings you everything from your wishlist! Thanks @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls @thedroneranger @cherrycola27

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[rootedinrevisions]

Cop Car: Part 2

SUMMARY: Jake has to endure the punishment laid out by Maverick for sneaking you into a restricted area on base. Of course the rest of the gang can't help but pick on Hangman for the not so special attention that he's getting from Maverick.

WARNINGS: None

WORD COUNT: 3.5K

TAG LIST: @omgbrianab I @shanimallina87 I @fanficmom94 I @smoothdogsgirl I @djs8891 

The next morning at training, the sun was already high and blazing over the runway. The pilots of the elite squadron were gathered around their planes, running pre-flight checks and prepping for the intense day ahead. Everyone seemed to be in their usual spirits—except for Hangman.

Jake stood a few feet away from his jet, his usual swagger noticeably absent. His jaw was tight, his eyes narrowed against the glare of the sun as he reviewed the day’s training schedule on his tablet. But it wasn’t the heat that had him on edge.

It was Maverick.

“Hangman!” Maverick’s voice boomed across the tarmac, the commanding tone unmistakable. “I don’t want to see one damn mistake from you out there today. You better bring your A-game or I’m grounding you until further notice. Understood?”

Jake nodded sharply, his face stiff as he saluted. “Yes, sir.”

Maverick’s expression didn’t soften in the slightest, his gaze hard as he turned away to address the rest of the team. Jake exhaled slowly, clenching his fists at his sides.

Phoenix, standing nearby, narrowed her eyes as she watched the interaction. “What the hell crawled up Mav’s ass?” she muttered, glancing at Bob, who shrugged with wide eyes.

“No idea, but he’s sure been riding Hangman hard all morning,” Bob replied, adjusting his helmet.

Payback, who was strapping on his gear, raised an eyebrow. “Maybe Hangman finally pushed him too far with all that cocky trash talk?”

Coyote chuckled, overhearing the conversation as he checked his plane’s wing. “Wouldn’t surprise me. That boy’s been pushing everyone’s buttons since day one.”

Phoenix shook her head. “No, this feels different. This is personal.”

Rooster, silent until now, suddenly looked up from his own pre-flight routine. His eyes flickered to Hangman, then to Maverick, a knowing look passing across his face. He pressed his lips together, clearly trying to hold back a smile.

“What do you know, Rooster?” Phoenix asked, her curiosity piqued by his expression. The rest of the team turned their attention to him, waiting for an explanation.

Rooster shrugged casually, though the amused glint in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed. “Just something I heard. Could be nothing… or it could be that Jake got caught last night somewhere he definitely wasn’t supposed to be.”

Payback raised an eyebrow, his interest growing. “Caught where?”

Rooster let the tension build before he dropped the bomb. “In a restricted area. With the Captain’s daughter.”

There was a moment of stunned silence before the entire team erupted.

“No way!” Phoenix exclaimed, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“Are you serious?” Bob asked, looking from Rooster to Hangman and back again.

Coyote whistled low under his breath, shaking his head. “Oh man, Hangman really went for it, huh?”

Payback laughed, clapping Rooster on the back. “That explains everything! No wonder Mav’s been on his ass all morning. He’s not just mad—he’s pissed.”

Phoenix smirked, glancing at Jake, who had his back turned to them, oblivious to the conversation. “Guess Hangman thought he could charm his way out of anything, even with Maverick.”

Rooster grinned. “Looks like that didn’t work out so well for him this time.”

Just as they were all shaking their heads in disbelief, Maverick’s voice cut through the group once again. “Seresin! You better get your head in the game or I’m pulling you from this exercise. Do I make myself clear?”

Jake straightened, his jaw clenched even tighter and gave another sharp salute. “Crystal clear, sir.”

Phoenix leaned closer to Rooster, whispering, “Do you think Hangman’s gonna survive this?”

Rooster chuckled under his breath. “Not if Maverick keeps this up.”

Bob, glancing over at Hangman with a small smirk, chimed in. “I don’t know… He survived all of us ganging up on him. Maybe he’s tougher than we think.”

Coyote laughed. “Or just dumber.”

They all shared a knowing look, quietly amused by Jake’s predicament. But despite the jokes and jabs, they were still a team. And though they would give Jake a hard time, they also knew that when push came to shove, Hangman would pull through like he always did.

For now, though, it was too much fun watching him sweat.

As the team geared up for the day’s flight drills, they couldn't help but exchange glances every time Maverick barked another order at Jake, each one sharper and more unforgiving than the last. The tension was palpable, but it only fueled the teasing that was sure to come after the training session ended.

Phoenix leaned over to Payback with a smirk. “Remind me to stay the hell away from Mav’s daughter if I want to keep flying.”

Payback chuckled. “Yeah, or at least don’t get caught.”

* * * * *

The warm, familiar glow of The Hard Deck beckoned like a safe haven after a brutal day on the tarmac. Hangman pushed open the door, feeling the cool rush of air and the buzz of conversation wash over him as he entered the bar. He was worn out, both physically and mentally, after a full day of Maverick barking orders at him like he was a rookie again. But he’d survived—barely—and now all he wanted was a cold beer and some peace.

Jake slid onto a stool at the bar, giving Penny a nod. She smiled as she handed him a bottle without asking, already familiar with his order.

"Rough day?" Penny asked, raising an eyebrow as she wiped down the bar.

Jake chuckled dryly, taking a long swig of his beer. “You have no idea.”

He barely had time to settle in before the door swung open again, and the rest of the squadron piled into the bar. Rooster, Phoenix, Bob, Payback, and Coyote—all of them were grinning as they made a beeline for Jake.

“Oh, hell no,” Jake muttered under his breath, already sensing what was coming. He took another gulp of his beer, bracing himself as they closed in.

Phoenix smirked as she sidled up next to him. “So, Hangman,” she began, her tone dripping with amusement. “You gonna survive round two tomorrow, or is Mav going to run you into the ground again?”

Jake rolled his eyes, lifting his beer in response. “Please. He can try, but I’m still standing, aren’t I?”

Coyote appeared on his other side, clapping him on the back. “Barely, man. You looked like you were ready to drop after that last drill.”

Bob chuckled softly from across the table, adjusting his glasses. “Can’t imagine what today’s extra ‘training’ must have felt like. That was… a lot.”

Phoenix leaned in closer, raising an eyebrow. “You know, we all thought Mav was going to tear you apart after what happened last night.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “But somehow, you’re still in one piece.”

Jake gave her a nonchalant shrug, though the tension in his shoulders hadn’t quite eased. “What can I say? I’m too good to kill.”

Before anyone could respond, the door to the bar swung open, and the atmosphere seemed to shift as Maverick strode in. His presence was impossible to miss, and the squad straightened instinctively, casting curious glances in his direction. Hangman, however, braced himself, wondering what was coming next.

Maverick didn’t waste any time. He crossed the bar in a few strides, heading straight for the group. His eyes flicked to Hangman, and for a brief moment, there was silence. Jake stood a little straighter, setting his beer down as Maverick came to a stop beside him.

With a firm pat on the shoulder, Maverick gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Nice work today, Seresin,” he said, his voice steady but carrying a weight behind it. “You held up better than I expected.”

Jake let out a small breath, trying to suppress his relief. But before he could respond, Maverick’s grip tightened ever so slightly, and he leaned in, his tone sharpening. “I hope you’re ready to do it all over again tomorrow.”

The warning was unmistakable. Maverick wasn’t done with him—not by a long shot.

Jake swallowed hard, his earlier bravado faltering. “Yes, sir. Ready for whatever you’ve got.”

Maverick’s eyes lingered on Jake for a moment longer before he straightened, the smirk returning to his face. “Good. Because tomorrow’s going to be a long day.” Without another word, he released his grip and turned to acknowledge the rest of the squad with a nod. “You all did good work today. Keep it up.”

As Maverick made his way over to the other side of the bar to talk with Penny, the squad’s attention snapped back to Jake, and the teasing immediately began.

Phoenix was the first to speak, her laughter bubbling up as she leaned on the bar. “Oh, man. You should’ve seen your face, Hangman. Looked like you were about to melt right there.”

Coyote grinned, shaking his head. “I thought you were supposed to be the cool, collected one, huh?”

Even Bob, usually the quiet one, had to chime in. “Yeah, you looked like you were in trouble for a second there.”

Jake shot them all a glare, picking his beer back up and taking a long swig. “Shut up, the lot of you. I’m still here, aren’t I?”

Phoenix raised her hands, palms out in mock surrender. “Hey, we’re just saying… Mav’s got something planned for you, and it sounds like it’s gonna be rough.”

Coyote leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Better get a good night’s sleep, man. Tomorrow’s not going to be any easier.”

Jake huffed, a mix of frustration and amusement tugging at his features. “You’re all just jealous Mav’s paying me extra attention.”

Phoenix snorted. “If by ‘extra attention’ you mean kicking your ass twice as hard, sure.”

* * * * *

Penny leaned against the bar, her keen eyes tracking Maverick as he made his way over. He’d just come from delivering what appeared to be a friendly yet loaded comment to Hangman, who was now surrounded by the rest of the team, their laughter and teasing barely masking the tension in Jake’s posture.

Penny knew that look on Maverick’s face—the tight smile, the steely gaze. It wasn’t just about training, at least not entirely. Something more was brewing beneath the surface, and she had a good idea of what it was. After all, she had overheard a few conversations around the bar that night, whispers about the Captain’s daughter and a certain pilot getting caught in a restricted area.

She picked up a couple of glasses, wiping them absentmindedly as Maverick approached, her expression casual but her mind already working. 

When he reached the bar, she didn’t say anything at first, just poured him a drink without asking, setting it down in front of him with a knowing look. He took a sip, leaning on the counter as if the weight of the day—or perhaps, the weight of his own choices—was starting to catch up with him.

“Long day?” Penny asked, her tone light but probing.

Maverick glanced at her, offering a small nod. “You could say that.”

She leaned closer, crossing her arms over the bar as she fixed him with a look that only Penny could pull off—gentle, but firm enough to make him squirm a little. “Heard some interesting stories tonight.”

Mav’s eyebrow twitched, though he kept his eyes on his drink. “Yeah? This place is full of them.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, not letting him off the hook. “This one’s about a certain Lieutenant and someone’s daughter sneaking into a restricted area last night.”

Maverick didn’t respond at first, just took another sip of his drink, but Penny saw the slight clench of his jaw. She could feel the tension radiating off him, the inner conflict between Captain Mitchell and the protective father beneath the surface.

“You don’t have to pretend, Pete,” she said softly. “I know what’s going on. And so does half the bar.”

That finally got a reaction. He looked up at her, meeting her gaze, his expression somewhere between exasperation and reluctance. “It’s complicated.”

“I’m sure it is,” she agreed, her voice calm and soothing. “But don’t you think you’re being a little hard on him?”

Maverick’s brow furrowed, and he shook his head slightly. “He broke the rules, Penny. He crossed a line.”

Penny tilted her head, studying him carefully. “Didn’t we all, back in the day?”

Maverick shot her a look, a mixture of amusement and defensiveness playing on his face. “That was different.”

“Was it?” she asked, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “I seem to remember a certain pilot trying to win over an admiral’s daughter. And pulling all kinds of stunts to impress her.”

Maverick sighed, leaning back slightly as the memories came rushing back. Penny wasn’t wrong. He’d done more than his share of rule-bending in his younger days, and many of those stunts were in pursuit of her. He’d spent years dancing on the edge of regulations, risking everything in the name of love, adrenaline, and a good time.

Penny gave him a playful nudge with her elbow. “Come on, Pete. You weren’t exactly a saint, and you know it. Remember that time you tried to sneak into the backyard just to see me?”

Maverick couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped him. “I thought we agreed never to bring that up again.”

Penny laughed, a soft sound that softened the air between them. “I think you’ve already punished Hangman enough. He’s young, and yeah, he’s cocky, but…” She glanced over at Jake, who was still getting ribbed by his teammates across the bar. “From what I’ve heard, he’s also a damn good pilot. And if he cares about your daughter half as much as you cared about me back then, maybe give him a little slack.”

Maverick’s smile faded as he followed her gaze, his eyes landing on Jake. The young lieutenant was putting on a good front, laughing along with the rest of the squad, but Mav could see the exhaustion in his posture, the way he was trying to hold it all together. Jake had a reputation for being brash, sure, but he’d proven himself time and again in the air. And lately, Maverick had noticed a subtle shift in him—a bit more maturity, a bit more responsibility.

Maybe Penny was right. Maybe he was being too hard on him.

He sighed, setting his drink down and rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… I don’t want her to get hurt.”

Penny softened, reaching out to place her hand on his. “I know, Pete. But you can’t protect her from everything. And Jake’s not a bad guy. He’s cocky, but… so were you.”

Maverick huffed out a laugh. “You’re really not going to let me off the hook here, are you?”

“Nope,” she said, smiling. “You can’t hold onto her forever. And if you trust her, maybe it’s time to trust him, too.”

He let her words sink in, the tension in his chest loosening just a bit. He still wasn’t thrilled about the idea of Jake dating his daughter, but he couldn’t deny that the kid had a good heart. And if Penny believed in giving him a second chance, maybe he should, too.

Maverick stood up straighter, finishing his drink before giving her a grateful nod. “Thanks, Penny.”

She winked at him, her smile warm. “Anytime. Just… don’t make it too easy on him, okay? Gotta keep him on his toes.”

Maverick smirked. “Oh, don’t worry. He’s got a long day ahead of him tomorrow.”

As he turned to leave, Penny called after him, her tone light but filled with affection. “Just remember, Pete… you were young once, too.”

He waved her off, chuckling as he made his way out of the bar. But as he walked out into the cool night air, her words lingered. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to give Hangman a little more leeway.

But not too much.

[fatkish]

If you're still taking requests.

How would Endeavor and Hawks react to a broody (like when chickens are incubating eggs) phoenix child reader only to find out that the eggs in the nest are fertilized?

I hope that makes sense.

Whose the father? That’s their immediate reaction

After all, you couldn’t have fertilized them yourself

Any time Hawks tries to get near your nest, you immediately start trying to attack him

Enji has to hold you back so you don’t kill him

Hawks is not allowed near you since you attack him

For the sake of this to make sense, let’s just say that Tokoyami is the father. Or at least, he fertilized the eggs.

Hawks and Enji had no idea that you and Tokoyami were so close

You built a nest of blankets, sheets, pillows and clothes. You have two eggs that are fertile

Tokoyami has to bring you food and water since you refuse to move from your eggs.

You shed a lot of your flight feathers and have grown feathers that are slightly more downy and soft. The shed feathers are tucked into your nest

You have a heat lamp in your room that you use to keep the eggs warm when you leave to use the bathroom

You never leave the eggs for more than 30 minutes, ever

Natsuo checks the eggs often to see how they’re developing

Since your instincts are strong, you ‘decide’ to keep the babies. Not like your instincts would let you get rid of them

It takes 7 months in total for the babies to grow and hatch. In that time, Fuyumi and Natsuo are bragging about how their going to be Aunts and Uncles.

Shoto asks questions about the eggs and helps you plan for their future, where their rooms will be, how you plan to raise them, etc

Everyone in the Todoroki family already considers the reader as their sibling so they see themselves as the Aunts and Uncles of the reader’s eggs

Enji is stoked and yet horrified to be a granddad. He knows he was a terrible father to his own kids and he’s terrified that he’s gonna ruin his chances with his grandchildren, if he’s even allowed in their lives

Hawks is stoked and is already bragging about his niece and nephew, assuming the eggs are a boy and girl (you can change the babies’s genders) he’s gotten them so many gifts already and even plans out how to help raise them

Once the fetuses start to move and you feel it, you tell Tokoyami. He’s amazed and is slightly teary eyed. Dark shadow is bawling his eye out and proclaiming that he’ll never leave the eggs’s sides

Shoto just stares with a slightly amazed look and a soft smile when he feels the eggs move. Fuyumi is excited and happily smiles while giggling as tears run down her face. Natsuo just smiles and talks about what you might have to expect and writes down what’s happening for his medical experience and references

When the babies finally hatch it’s at 3:42 am in the morning. The babies are 6 1/2 lbs each

It takes 3 more months of you constantly taking care of them for them to fully absorb their yolk sacs, grow to standard baby weights, start suckling and to start developing feathers

Sorry if it’s short. If you want a part 2 of this or want to hear about the babies growing up, leave a comment please and thank you

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

Endings and Beginnings - Rooster

Pairing: Rooster / Fem!Reader (Wife!Reader)

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Pregnancy, Second Person POV ("You"), No Physical Description about Reader

This work, all of my other works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only.

Summary: It's Maverick's retirement party but Rooster's far more concerned about you, his pregnant wife, than anything else.

A.N. Rooster is retired in this story and it's set a few years after TGM.

Edit: Part 2 is now out!

Master List

Maverick was officially retiring from the Navy. Or finally, depending on who you asked. The Hard Deck had been cleared out for the party and several generations of naval aviators, active and retired, and their families were spread out around the space. Drinks were poured continuously, there was pizza and snacks and even a cake with a Tomcat on it for later.

“Are you sure that you’re okay to be here?” Rooster asked you softly, grabbing your hand.

“I’m fine,” you assured your husband. “Just pregnant.”

“Very pregnant,” Hangman added, causing Rooster to glare over at him. Phoenix whacked Hangman on the arm your behalf, causing the blond to huff and complain. “What? It’s true!”

“I’m fine,” you repeated, squeezing Rooster’s hand. “I’ll sit down if I need to and there’s plenty of water and snacks that I can eat.” You released his hand and nudged him in the direction of Maverick, who was chatting with a few pilots his own age. “Go, mingle. Shoo. It’s a party. Party.”

“Only if you promise to let me know if you need to go home or to the hospital or—”

“—Rooster, I’m fine. The baby isn’t coming for another two weeks. Now, go. I think Mav’s been trying to subtly introduce you for an hour now.”

“Keep an eye on her for me,” Rooster told the others before heading over to Maverick.

The newly retired pilot was all smiles as he chatted with his old friends. But as soon as Maverick spotted Rooster walking over, he quickly moved to pull him over to the older crowd of pilots.

“She finally kicked you over here?” Maverick asked, referring to you.

“Apparently, I’m hovering too much,” Rooster joked with Mav.

“Well, it’s a perfect time to reintroduce yourself to everyone.”

Maverick gestured around the half-circle of former naval aviators. Slider, Hollywood, Wolfman, Chipper, Sundown, Merlin, and Viper all nodded to Rooster and Rooster shook their corresponding hands. It had been a long time since he saw any of them, what with the whole paper incident, but Slider still dragged him in for a noogie like he was eight-years-old.

“So, you were Maverick’s RIO in that whole business?” Merlin asked, referring to the mission.

Even though the mission was still highly classified three years later, the fact that Maverick and Rooster had barely made it out alive wasn’t. Well, that and word got around when an old smashed up Tomcat was unloaded off of a carrier.

“How was that?” Merlin continued.

“Most terrifying experience of my life,” Rooster responded, half-joking, half-serious.

“I understand completely,” Merlin mused, causing Maverick to smile and shake his head.

“That’s not why you turned in your wings, is it though?” Viper asked with a knowing expression.

“No, no,” Rooster replied immediately. “When I got married and my wife and I started to plan for having our family, I decided that I wanted to be there for every step. And I didn’t want her to worry about me coming home at the end of the day. So, I finished up my service requirements and retired.”

And, well, for a kid who lost his father to the Navy, Rooster’s reasoning didn’t raise a single eyebrow. Every naval aviator knew the risks involved in their line of work and while technological advancements helped decrease training accidents and fatalities, they were still always a possibility.

He wouldn’t—couldn’t—let his child learn about him from pictures, like he had to with his own father.

“And Maverick says that you’re switching to commercial?” Wolfman spoke up.

“Yeah, I have one more test to take and then I’m ready to fly, but I probably won’t start until we’re settled with our baby,” Rooster explained, nodding along.

“Your first one?” Viper guessed with an all-knowing smile.

“How could you tell?” Rooster inquired, earning a chuckle from the other fathers in the group.

 “You got that look in your eye.”

“Not too different from the rookies at flight school,” Hollywood added with an amused smile.

“It’ll pass eventually, but the first one always gets you jittery,”  

“Being a father is like learning how to fly—utterly terrifying at first, and there’s definitely a learning curve to it, but once you’re up there and you’ve leveled out, you won’t even remember what it was like before you learned in the first place.”

“I keep telling him to relax. He’ll be a natural,” Maverick spoke up, squeezing Rooster’s shoulder.

Rooster glanced through the crowd to check on you and found you sitting at one of the tables with your feet propped up on the opposite chair. You looked calm, but uncomfortable—though you’d told him that ‘nearly nine months pregnant’ and ‘comfortable’ did not go together no matter the situation.

“But speaking of, I should probably go check on my wife,” Rooster replied, his nerves and ‘Mother Hen’ tendencies, as Hangman called them, shining through.

“Of course.”

“Don’t let us keep you.”

“It was an honor to meet all of you again,” Rooster offered in goodbye, before checking on you.

The retired naval aviators watched him go and then turned to Maverick.

“God, he looks just like Goose,” Slider replied quietly.

“And with the mustache and the Hawaiian shirt too,” Wolfman agreed, sharing looks with the other retired naval aviators.

“Yeah, he does,” Maverick stated softly, watching Rooster weave through the party. “Just wait until you see him at a piano.”

Rooster slid through the crowd over to the back tables. You were still sitting with your feet propped up, a full glass of water in front of you, and your usual easygoing smile on your lips. Bob, Phoenix, and Hangman were keeping you company and spread out around you.

“You alright?” Rooster asked, walking to your side.

“I’m fine. Just wanted to sit down for a little bit. Baby Bradshaw seems a little excited about the party,” you stated, your hands resting over the swell of your bump. Rooster placed a hand under yours, where Baby Bradshaw tended to kick for the last few days. “How’s Mav doing?”

“I think he’s enjoying himself a lot. He hasn’t seen his old TOP GUN buddies in a while, so it’s nice for them to all come out to see him.”

“Well, Penny can be very convincing when she wants to be,” you mused with a smile.

Wordlessly you moved Rooster’s hand to the side, where the baby was pressing on you. Though you were growing tired of being pregnant, you didn’t think that you’d ever get tired of the way that Rooster just flipped a happy switch whenever he felt your baby.

“What are you all doing over here?” Rooster asked, turning back to the others.

“Actually, we’ve got a poll going about the baby,” Bob explained to Rooster.

“What are the votes?”

“I think it’s a girl,” Phoenix declared confidently.

“Which means that it’s a boy,” Hangman stated, just as confident.

“You only said that after you found out that Rooster and I think it’s a girl,” Phoenix retorted, causing Hangman to shrug his shoulders.

"So what?”

“I think that it’s a boy too,” you offered up. “The way that I’m carrying says that it’s a boy.”

“It’s not an exact science,” Rooster pointed out.

“No but call it mother’s intuition.”

“I guess I can’t argue with that.”

“God, you’re so whipped,” Hangman grunted, earning an elbow to the side from Phoenix.

Rooster and you ended up leaving the party among the first wave of people—mostly elderly and people with small children. But not before you received a whole bunch of random baby gifts from all of the people who missed your shower a month earlier.

“Do you want a hot bath when we get home?” Rooster offered, glancing over at you as he drove home.

“Maybe,” you sighed, shifting in your seat.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just uncomfortable. Nothing either of us can do for that.”

“You want more of that tea that Penny got you then?”

“Yeah, maybe that’ll help,” you murmured, leaning back in your seat. Your hands rubbed up and down your bump, trying to soothe yourself. “I think that Baby Bradshaw just got a little overexcited about meeting everyone all at once. But maybe some tea and a bath will help.”

“Coming right up,” Rooster assured you.

You pulled into the driveway and Rooster walked around to help you out. Usually, yo would just push his hand away and insist that you were more than capable of getting yourself out of the car, but this time you happily accepted his help.

“Are you sure that you’re alright?” Rooster asked worriedly.

“I’m fine,” you replied, pecking his cheek. “Just slow.”

Rooster walked with you to the front door, keeping a protective arm around your waist. You walked into the kitchen and Rooster instantly moved to heat up some hot water for your tea. You leaned on the countertop, just looking completely uncomfortable with your existence.

“I’ll grab the bags out of the car and then I’ll start your bath,” Rooster promised, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead.

“Thank you.”

Rooster jogged down to the car and gathered whatever bags were sitting in the trunk. He left the go bag in the car, just in case, before heading back into the house. He wasn’t even completely through the door when he spotted you waddling towards the stairs.

“I’ll run your bath, babe, just sit and relax.”

“I’m not going to take a bath,” you called back, moving up the stairs slowly.

“You need help?”

“No, I just need to change.”

“Oh, okay,” Rooster replied, setting down the bags.

“Also, don’t walk through the kitchen yet,” you warned him, grunting a bit as you walked.

“Why?” Rooster asked, moving to stand at the bottom of the stairs.

“There’s amniotic fluid all over the floor and I haven’t gotten a chance to clean it up yet.”

“Amniotic . . .” Rooster trailed off before the realization hit him like 10 G’s all at once. “Babe!?”

Part 2

[joelsprettyprincess]

Taming of the Shrew - Part 2

Pairing: dark!Arthur Morgan x f!reader Summary: Although you've ended your relationship with Arthur, he gets you to agree to one final rendezvous. Series-wide tags: Toxic relationships, manipulation, obsessive behavior, smut, secretly unprotected piv, babytrapping, pregnancy, canon-typical violence, slight canon-typical misogyny. Wordcount: 3.7k A/N: I was not expecting that much love on part 1! I'm so glad yall enjoyed! Here's part 2 and where things get juicy 🤭. And before you ask, yes they had condoms in 1899!! They just weren't very good.. Also, I do not profess to be an expert on pregnancy, I just looked things up and hoped for the best. 😭 Sorry if anything's inaccurate. This chapter contains smut. And as always MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Tags: @dandelion-ranch @i-will-give-you-love @amaranth-writing @heloixe @buneio @warmsideofthepillow03 @thoughts-of-bear @luzzbuzz

Part 1 Part 3

Several days had passed since you told Arthur to never speak to you again.

You didn’t mean it. You couldn’t have. Your love, though short, had burned like a phoenix: though it was currently snuffed, Arthur knew it would soon rise again.

He knew better than to approach you again, though. So he wrote a letter.

My love.

My darling, my princess. I am in pain while writing this. Not because of any physical injury, but because I miss you badly indeed. My heart burns for you, for your touch, your skin on mine, even just one last time.

I am certain you feel the same way. If you do, please meet me at our spot near Ringneck Creek at noon next Monday.

I swear this will be the last time I will contact you. If you don’t show, I’ll know your decision is final. However I know you will. I know our love was something real. Please don’t make a fool of me.

Forever yours,

Arthur

Arthur posted the letter on a Monday, giving you nearly a full week to make a decision. He was on edge after that, wondering if you would actually show. Would you bring your father, or even a bounty hunter, to capture him? Or would you just not show at all?

Thankfully most everyone in camp left him alone; the news of your loud departure had spread fast. There was the occasional ribbing from Micah, but he was like a mosquito buzzing in everyone’s face. Arthur paid him no mind.

Dutch told him it was a waste of time. 

“Women are a complete mystery, son,” he told him Sunday night, puffing on his cigar. “Trust me, you’re better off being single forever.” He didn’t seem to care that Molly was behind him in the tent, hopefully sleeping.

But he didn’t know the inner workings of Arthur’s mind. Didn’t know what he planned to do.

Monday morning, he bathed and trimmed his beard. As much as he hated to admit it, Arthur was nervous.

He scoffed. Headshotting O’Driscolls barely raised his heart rate, but the thought of seeing you again had him jumpy like that Kieran boy.

Arthur rode over to the spot early. It was a good isolated spot a little ways away from the creek, where you two had slept together a couple times.

He spread down a blanket and cleaned his guns while he waited for you.

About half an hour later, he heard the crunching of leaves and turned around. Your familiar form entered his field of vision; suddenly, Arthur was breathless.

You were here. You’d actually come. And you appeared to be alone.

You hitched your horse next to his, then came down to the blanket. “Hey,” you said, smiling softly.

“Yes, well.” You smoothed your skirts. “Just can’t help m’self, I suppose. But listen, Arthur…this is the last time I’m seeing you. Seriously. I don’t even know why I came here–”

Arthur pulled you down beside him. “You came.” He cleared his throat. “I knew you would.”

“Alright, shh,” Arthur interrupted, taking your hand in his and softly pressing his lips to yours.

“Mm,” you sighed, immediately melting into his touch. He might be rough around the edges, but Arthur surely knew how to treat a woman. You’d already forgotten what you were gabbing on about.

Arthur wasted no time in deepening the kiss and pushing his tongue past your lips. “That’s my good girl,” he murmured, one hand cupping your cheek and the other on your hip.

You spent a few minutes exploring each other’s mouths and letting your hands wander. Eventually your positions shifted so Arthur was nearly laying on top of you. He spoke again.

“Come back,” he whispered. “I can’t live without you.”

That voice. It was sweet as honey. It made you want to follow him to the ends of the earth.

You avoided his gaze, pursing your slightly swollen, glazed lips. “Arthur, I can’t–”

“You love the bloodshed,” he spoke in your ear. His hand went under your skirt and ghosted over your bloomers. “You crave it. Stop actin’ like you don’t.”

“No–”

Arthur silenced you with another kiss, capturing your lips and claiming them as his, as he had done so many times before. Yet it never got old; the lusty looks and burning touches lit you on fire.

You whimpered as he slipped his hand inside your bloomers.

“We both know this doesn’t lie,” he murmured, barely grazing your folds. He kept his bright eyes steadily focused on you while he used just one finger to tease you.

A quiet moan escaped your lips.

Arthur seemed eager to get on with it. He lifted your skirt and removed your underthings, carefully setting them beside you on the blanket.

“Did my pretty girl miss me?” he breathed, massaging your thighs. You whined just a little, already anticipating his touch.

Arthur traced your bare cunt, enjoying watching you squirm.

“Arthur,” you whispered in a choked voice. 

He shucked off his pants, then laid down between your legs. 

Arthur was gentleman enough to service you first. He put your legs on either side of his face, and breathed in the natural scent of your pussy, again barely grazing the already soaked lips with his finger.

“S-Stop teasing me, dammit,” you moaned. He smiled. It was almost fun to see how quickly he could get you to come undone, begging for his touch.

Arthur started with small licks on the inner parts of your thighs. Your legs immediately tried to come together, but he held them apart and kept licking. Your chest heaved up and down as you tried to stay still. 

He traveled up your thighs and paused just before he got to your cunt. Taking two fingers, Arthur spread your lips apart, marveling at the amount of slick already coating your entrance.

“Ah- ah, d-don’t- mmgh,” you cried. His touch was so depraved and satisfying. 

Arthur dove in, pushing his tongue into your warm, sticky entrance. He gripped your thighs with his hands and held them up as he fully ate you out. He got messy with it very quickly, suckling on everything he could get a hold of.

You cried out and gripped his hair hard, bucking your hips. This kind of pleasure was completely unheard of and forbidden for girls like you, and that made it all the more filthy. You loved it. You loved every second of it. No man had ever touched you like this before, and you doubted any man ever would.

He removed his mouth for a second and rubbed circles around your sweet spot. “You’re lovin’ it, aren’t you, sweet girl?”

You breathed in and out loudly. “Yes,” you whined shamelessly. 

Arthur pushed his tongue back in, appreciating how your walls tightened around him. He swore he could feel your heartbeat, pulsing in time with his.

You grinded against his face, spreading your juices everywhere, going crazy at the lewd noises being produced.

“Arthur– oh, Arthur, yes, please–”

You were getting close. It never took long for you to cum, but apparently you were touch starved right now.

Abruptly, Arthur pulled back from your pussy, breathing heavily and licking his lips.

You panted too. “Why’d you stop?”

He paused, then quickly pulled off his boxers. Oh.

Arthur pushed you down again and rubbed his girthy, veiny cock up and down your soaked pussy. 

The thick mushroom head was poking at your entrance, and you wanted to let him in, but…

“Do you have…protection?” you whispered.

He nodded. “Course.” He pulled a condom packet out of his pants pocket. A primitive thing, to be sure, but it was part of the plan.

Arthur pulled it on, then nosed his tip so it was just breaching your entrance. You sighed loudly, spreading your legs a bit more.

He pushed in. A creamy noise was produced, but even louder was your pained moan. It was a stretch to fit him in, even when he had prepped you first.

This was only the second time he’d gone all the way like this. There was no reliable way of avoiding pregnancy, so you simply didn’t allow him to do it. But this was a special occasion. After this, you were done with each other, forever.

Arthur sighed and pushed into you even further, watching your pussy lips greedily suck in his cock.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured. “Letting me in so nicely.”

He started to thrust in and out slowly. You threw your head back and panted, whining loudly and mumbling his name.

His cock repeatedly filled you to the brim and you squeezed your tight walls around him. Your juices quickly coated the condom, allowing him to more easily push the rest of his cock in.

Soon he was pushing in and out, all the way to the burst of hair at his base. Arthur groaned lowly, biting your shoulder and holding onto your hips with his big hands, kneading your ass.

After a few minutes of bliss, he shifted positions; Arthur pressed your legs almost to your chest and held them there, hitting deeper and deeper into your sticky cunt. 

You moaned loudly, finding his hair again and holding it tightly. His full balls slapped against your ass.

“Like that?” he muttered. “You like that, you uppity little–” He groaned loudly, going faster and rougher.

“Arthur, Arthur,” you sobbed, curling your toes. “Please, I’m g-gonna–”

With a muffled cry, you came undone on his cock, toes curling, legs shaking, cunt spasming and letting out more of your juices all over his cock and the blanket.

“That’s right, let it out, sweetheart,” he gasped. “I’m close too, baby, shit–”

Arthur pressed himself into you and stilled, panting, eyes tightly shut. You could feel his cock twitching as he rode out his orgasm in your soaked through cunt.

His lips collided with yours in a sloppy, desperate kiss, and he slowly thrusted a couple more times before pulling out.

The condom was smeared in your juices.

Arthur sighed. “Hopefully it didn’t break. I tried to get a good one.”

You chuckled nervously. “Hopefully not.”

He helped you clean up, wiping you down and putting your clothes back on. You hoped his smell (it wasn’t a bad one, just distinct) wouldn’t cling to your clothes.

“I’m sorry it had to be like this,” you told him as you prepared to remount your horse. “But if you ever decide to stop being an outlaw…you know where to find me.”

“I love you,” Arthur said simply.

You flushed, and looked away. 

“Goodbye, Arthur.”

You rode off.

Arthur waited till you were out of sight to smile.

You were really gullible. A condom, seriously? Even pulling out was more reliable. These things broke more easily than a cheap lock. Even if it hadn’t, he’d cut a small hole into the tip that ensured he’d painted your walls white. If it dripped out, you would probably just assume it to be your own juices.

Now it was just a waiting game.

Two months later.

Your maid, Elisabeth, stared at you frightfully as you bent over a bucket for the 3rd time this week, vomiting horribly. You breathed heavily, then vomited again. There was nothing even in your stomach, which made it so much worse.

“Are you alright, ma’am?’ she squeaked, standing by with a towel.

You were too nauseous to answer. You clutched your stomach, head spinning and mind racing.

Your stomach had been in shambles this week and the last, and it was getting concerning.

After a few labored breaths, you grabbed the towel and wiped off your mouth. “Let's visit the doctor.”

Elisabeth gave you some cool water to sip, which helped a bit but not much. You could hardly stand to get on the carriage, and then it was like you were on a merry-go-round with the way it was hitting every bump in the road.

You leaned over the side and emptied your stomach yet again.

It was possible this sickness had a terrifying explanation, one that you couldn't even begin to imagine. Lord, protect me, you prayed despairingly. 

One agonizingly slow and nauseating ride later, you pulled up next to the doctor's office. Elisabeth had to coax you down, and she was clearly scared you would projectile vomit on her. The world was swimming around you and had a hazy feel.

You stumbled into the office and leaned against the cool wall.

“You alright, ma'am?” a voice asked. It was Dr. Williams, an older gentleman who'd been in Rhodes for years.

“I-I think I have a fever,” you whispered, fanning yourself. “Been throwing up everywhere.”

He quickly escorted you to a room in the back, and you collapsed into the chair. 

Dr. Williams examined you, looking inside your mouth and pressing various points on your body.

“Any symptoms besides vomiting?” he inquired.

You shook your head. “Don't believe so.”

“When did they start?”

“I'd say…maybe two weeks ago.”

He hummed and thought for a bit while examining you. “Is there a chance you could be with child?”

You started, then stopped, then froze.

No…

“Err,” you stuttered.

He waited for your answer.

“I-I-...well, I suppose it ain't impossible,” you admitted fearfully.

Dr. Williams nodded. “Unless you have some strange fever, it is my opinion that you're suffering from morning sickness.”

Your heart dropped to your feet and started beating like a jackrabbit's. No. No. Lord, please.

“That can't be true,” you said desperately. “It-It- was so long ago…I don't…”

“It takes a bit for symptoms to present,” the doctor explained.

“B-But I can't, I can't be,” you cried, panicking. “You don't understand, my life is over if I'm with child. Over!” You stood up and started pacing around.

“Admittedly it’s still too early to tell for certain,” Dr. Williams allowed. “However, I have seen this many times before. There are options–”

“No! There are no options!” you snapped. “I am the daughter of an oil baron and a society lady! J-just imagining the shame, the disgrace–...my mother will kill me. And if she doesn't, I'll be sent away to the corners of the earth.” 

You burst into tears at this declaration, falling to your knees and covering your face in shame. Dr. Williams hung back, perhaps sensing that you needed a minute.

After you collected yourself and stood up, you said in a quiet, cold voice: “There is no way I am pregnant. I thank you for your expertise, Dr. Williams, but in this case you are incorrect. I simply have a fever. Good day.”

You swept out of the building with your head held high, collecting your maid and getting back on the carriage. 

The two of you had barely left the town borders before you broke down and started crying again. Pregnant? A child? You? It could not be true. It could not. 

And…and definitely not by Arthur, of all people. He was like a firecracker, burning hot and dangerous, the exact opposite of a…father.

Even that word burned acrid on your tongue.

“Do you need somethin’, miss?” Elisabeth asked tentatively.

You sighed, wiped your face, and shook your head sadly. “No…no thank you. I'm alright.”

The ride back home was silent save for your sniffles and forlorn sighs. You refused to accept this possibility.

You felt you would rather be tarred and feathered than even think about telling your mother about your condition. Your outburst at Dr. Williams had barely covered it; your parents were continually telling you to act perfectly, to never step out of line. Even though they were far from perfect.

Your mother was the biggest hypocrite you knew. She thought you didn't see her inviting the help in for "tea". Well, you did, not that you cared much. It was just sickening that she set expectations for you that she herself had never reached.

She'd threatened you with the nunnery before, after catching you with one of the stable boys. Said that “wicked girls were destined for the deepest pits of hell.” Hmph. She was definitely an expert on the subject.

As for your father, well, he wasn't much better. Though he didn't verbally abuse you like your mother, he viewed you more like a liability among his property. You were certain he would marry you off if it would benefit his emerging empire. He would see this…predicament as something that could damage his reputation. If your mother chose to send you away, you doubted he would make much of a fuss.

Thankfully, the churning in your stomach faded on the way home, and only your mind remained in shambles. 

You tried to avoid your mother when you arrived at the manor, but of course she was in the front room, waiting for you.

“What did the doctor say?” she inquired as you put down your things.

“Just a mild fever,” you replied shortly, then power walked to your room. But she followed.

“Are you sure? Do you have a temperature? Did he give you any medicine?” she pressed, following your impatient footsteps right up to your bedroom door.

“Mother, I'll be fine. It's not serious,” you said angrily, then closed the door behind you firmly.

You waited until her heels clicked away down the wooden stairs, then collapsed on your bed and sobbed some more.

My life might be over.

A month and a half later.

Your life was over.

Completely and utterly.

The nausea had not stopped, and in fact it got worse the week after you went to the doctor. That had been the peak of pain, but it still remained for another two weeks afterwards, lurking like some shadowy beast.

Your dresses, tailored exactly to your measurements, had become just a little bit tighter. At first you had brushed it off as an indulgent diet, or just stress weight, but even your mother had commented on how your dress was pulled tight over your torso.

After that, you took care to hide your body under the heaviest dresses you could manage. But it was summer by now, and staying out of sight was a tall order.

Your mother repeatedly asked you to go to the doctor again, and perhaps seek out a second opinion, and you refused, insisting that it was just a fever. But you could tell she wasn’t believing you. She gave you strange looks when you said you felt nauseous yet again.

It was a stormy day in June when you finally had the courage to take off your clothes and examine your body in the floor-length, gilded mirror in your boudoir.

A mistake.

Your blood turned to ice as you saw the unmistakable bump that was forming.

Your breathing accelerated along with your mind, thoughts racing and jumbling and colliding, coming to one stunning, awful conclusion:

I’m pregnant.

You were pregnant. With child. An expectant mother.

What a joke.

You? A mother? What a ridiculously absurd notion. You would sooner be a clown in a traveling circus.

And…that man was the father. The man that haunted your thoughts and your dreams, the man whose scent still clung ever so faintly to one of your riding dresses. The man whose mere name sent shivers down your spine.

Arthur Morgan.

-

You put your clothes back on, then left the room, intending to get a snack, but before even making it to the stairs your mother pounced on you.

“Alright, I simply must insist that you tell me what is really going on,” she declared. “No fever lasts this long, and you have no temperature at all.”

You tried to dodge her, but she blocked your path, clearly dead set on getting an answer from you.

“It’s nothing, Mother, I told you before,” you said, irritated. It absolutely was not nothing, but you needed time to plan your strategy. 

“If it’s nothing, why have you been nauseous for the past…” She paused, then narrowed her eyebrows. 

Before you could step back, she poked your stomach with one finger. You of course involuntarily jumped back.

“What- What are you doing?” you gasped, nervous.

“Let me see your stomach.”

“What?”

She pushed you towards your room. “I said, let me see your stomach, girl. Lift up your skirts.”

You scoffed, heart pounding like a drum. “Why would I do that?”

You were forced back into your bedroom, and your mother closed and locked the door behind her. “I just want to look at it.”

This was quite a pickle.

“I- I really don’t think that’s necessary, Mother-”

She grabbed at your skirts, impatient. You jumped back. “Stop it! Fine, I will.”

She was going to find out eventually.

Your mother crossed her arms and waited with anticipation as you slowly lifted your skirt. The blood was rushing in your ears and you prayed to God that you would survive the next five minutes.

Eventually your skirt revealed the still developing but definitely noticeable bump you had.

The room was dead silent. Your mother stared at your belly in shock, lips slightly parted. 

Then her mouth closed and formed a hard scowl. “Would you care to explain the meaning of this?”

You blinked several times, trying to find your voice, but it was lost and long gone.

“Are you-” She swallowed hard. “Are you…with child?”

She stared at you. Her glare kept you still and pinned you down like a bug on display.

You eventually nodded, wordless and terrified.

“And who is the father, pray tell?”

You just stared at the ground.

“Answer me, girl,” she said sharply.

There was no way you were going to tell her that. It would genuinely be better for her to assume you were so loose you couldn’t even pinpoint the father.

Your mother pinched her nose, and sighed, shaking her head. “We’re going to have a little talk with your father when he comes home. Remain in your room; I have no desire to see you anymore.” With those pleasant parting words, she stomped out, slamming the door behind you.

Once her footsteps faded away, you sat on your bed, numbly thinking of what to do. 

Your father was sure to agree with any punishment your mother dreamed up. He was more like a manager than a father, and he had no qualms about letting a bad employee go.

Or…or maybe he wouldn’t? Perhaps his indifference would work in your favor, and he would tell your mother not to bother? Maybe he’d even pay someone to take care of it.

These were all hypotheticals. There was no telling what would really happen until it actually occurred.

Your father was due home soon. It was just your luck that he was taking a half-day in the office.

Ugh.

End of Part 2.

[maspers]

How to be a successful Ace Attorney Prosecutor:

Step 1) Pass the Bar exam. This is presumably very easy, considering how young some of the lawyers and prosecutors are in the series. They hand those badges out like hotcakes. Presumably it's part of Themis Legal Academy's graduation package, so you might not even have to TAKE the bar exam! Step 2) Only take murder cases. This will probably happen to you regardless of whether you want it to or not, so I'm including it in the list so you feel like you have SOME control over your life. Step 3) Be an honest and morally good person who seeks for truth and justice above all else in court. This one isn't TECHNICALLY mandatory, but eventually you'll end up facing off against someone from the Wright Anything Agency and once they're involved you'd better get on the level fast, or you risk either humiliation or being arrested for murder. Better to get this one out of the way sooner rather than later. Step 4) Pay the Detectives. Please. Gumshoe desperately needs a raise. If you aren't going to pay your Detectives, you should at LEAST take a summer sabbatical in Europe. Germany would be best. Step 5) This is very important: Be a sadist. Just a bit. Be a troll. A gremlin. A deranged little maniac. You're going to be watching a lot of people suffer on the witness stand (and behind the Defense's bench), and if you don't enjoy watching that happen then you're in for a very miserable career. Might as well get SOME entertainment out of it. Trust me, if you aren't capable of making Phoenix Wright recoil in fear, you're doing your job wrong.

[izelthewashbear]

Y'know what? Screw this, I just spent the past 2 hours studying for a test tomorrow, so have a random incoherent rant about why Rendog in Life series symbolizes rebirth, as well as his connections with the moon. Cuz why not. Featuring random things I learned during my myths and religions class. Bear in mind that I just finished studying and my brain might be slightly fried, so I might just be blabberin nonsense.

Right off the bat, the most important aspect - being beheaded and thus turning into the Red king. Quite obviously, he was literally reborn into this role - a role of protector of his own people and slayer of the ones who wanted to harm them.

Okay but first, let's go a little earlier than that. Ren's first death was forced upon him (no shit) by Grian's trap, being set off by Jimmy. Without that death, and being reborn as a yellow, he would probably never create 'the test' which resulted in his beheading - or either way, even if he died differently, I'd happen after his first death, so either way, after being reborn. Rebirth into a yellow made him realize the only way to beat his enemies (by that I mean the desert hippies) is to be like one of them - a red. And for that, he needed to be reborn as one.

But let's go a little further than that. One thing that came to my mind lately - many cultures and mythologies equate east with life and birth, and west with death. Quite obviously - the Sun, the thing that gives and symbolizes life, raises from the east and sets on the west. Where was Dogwarts located on the 3rd Life server? On the eastern side of the map, almost the furthest point east. And where was Monopoly mountain, the desert, their biggest enemies, located? Along the western end of the map. Monopoly Mountain is actually the furthest west point of interest on the 3rd Life server map.

Shadow Alliance and the way they speak about the Moon immediately made me think of lunar mythology - part of mythology all about obviously the moon, but also things like the moon phases, the ebb and flow of the sea, even menstrual cycles. The endless cycle (another mythology term). Repetition and rebirth.

In Double Life, him and Martyn want to take Pearl on their side through the Broken Hearts Club, because Ren perceives Pearl as someone powerful and worth having on their side. Although he does, indeed, speak about her more so like a threat that's better if it's on their side, rather than against them. And I don't think I even have to mention the obvious connection between Pearl and the moon, like cmon.

One more note for Ren and the moon - he's half dog. Some people interpret him as a werewolf. And of course there is a connection between the moon and werewolves - the transformation, the change, one would even say being reborn into something new. Damn, I should make my Ren design into a werewolf-

You could say "Okay but Ren is gone in Limited Life and the cycle of rebirth is still there"- is it? I'd go as far to say that for the sake of this comparison, deaths in Limited Life do not even have to count as actual deaths. People do not automatically go to different colored lives. In session 3, when Grian is AFK, there isn't even the death screen as someone dies - it's like the death doesn't matter, you're just put right back in, losing some of your time. But dying by running out of time? That's a whole different beast. It's coming for you. You can't stop it, no matter how well you play, how many times you die in the meantime. And once it reaches you, there is no rebirth. Without Ren, there is no rebirth.

Adding Secret Life based on ideas people suggested in reblogs and comments:

1. Ren taking over Tango's body. If we associate Ren with rebirth, and Tango is often associated with fire, what does that combine into? A phoenix. (I could insert Phoenix!Jimmy propaganda here but I won't)

2. The fact there is no health regeneration. You cannot get back to full health by just using potions or eating. The only way to get health back is to either complete your task. Which means - you only get to regenerate if you comply with the Watchers. Aside from Ren, the Watchers are the only way you can survive. Which could be exactly why they took him out.

The moment Wild Life starts, everyone immediately starts out on 6 lives. As if they're being made up for all the health they lost while Ren was away.

Very small nitpick, but the second wildcard is how Ren dies for the first time. The whole wildcard of ep 2 (eating the items) is all about messing up with their regeneration. And since Ren just got back, it's as if the regen aspect is still a bit messed up.

Martren. Like. Martren. C'mon. The idea that your loved one dies, so you take a part of them and you become something else. Like c'mon. What else is there to say.

If you have any of your own ideas drop them here, I might add them (and credit you ofc)

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Some James, Lily, and Sirius notes

I needed to figure out for my fic what Sirius was doing after graduation and before Azkaban. Like, what James, Lily, and Sirius were doing for a living, you know. The common fanon consensus is that Sirius and James were Aurors, but I found an interview that gave the closest to canon answer that we have:

Q: Harry often wondered about his parents lives before he died. What did Lily, James, Remus, Lupin and Sirius do after Hogwarts? JKR: To take Remus first, Remus was unemployable. Poor Lupin, prior to Dumbledore taking him in, led a really impoverished life because no one wanted to employ a werewolf. The other three were full-time members of the Order of the Phoenix. If you remember when Lily, James and co. were at school, the first war was raging. It never reached the heights that the second war reached, because the Ministry was never infiltrated to that extent but it was a very bad time, the same disappearances, the same deaths. So that’s what they did, they left school. James has gold, enough to support Sirius and Lily. So I suppose they lived off a private income. But they were full-time fighters, that’s what they did, until Lily fell pregnant with Harry. So then they went into hiding.

(Interview)

And I found this answer hilarious and it implies 2 things:

That my assumption that James and Lily went into hiding prior to Harry's birth when the prophecy was made is likely what the intention was.

And that there is a nonzero chance Sirius lived with James and Lily at least part-time. He was, after all, living off of James' inheritance (while Remus didn't). JKR stated James supported Sirius and Lily, not Remus who was suspected to be a traitor at the time.

The mental image of a married James and Lily with an infant Harry and Sirius all in the same house is hilarious and I just wanted to share it.

We know how close James and Sirius were:

“Naturally,” said Madam Rosmerta, with a small laugh. “Never saw one without the other, did you? The number of times I had them in here — ooh, they used to make me laugh. Quite the double act, Sirius Black and James Potter!”

(PoA, Ch10)

They were so co-dependant they enchanted the two-way mirrors becouse they couldn't bear to stay in separate detentions from each other. James and Sirius' friendship was insane.

And Lily's letter to Sirius actually hints the situation wasn't far off from what JKR said in the above interview:

We were so sorry you couldn’t come, but the Order’s got to come first, and Harry’s not old enough to know it’s his birthday anyway! James is getting a bit frustrated shut up here, he tries not to show it but I can tell—also Dumbledore’s still got his Invisibility Cloak, so no chance of little excursions. If you could visit, it would cheer him up so much. Wormy was here last weekend.

(DH, Ch10)

It's made clear Lily wrote to Sirius outside of her relationship with James, that she and Sirius were close by that point, and that Sirius came by whenever he could. I don't know, I just find these three and their potential dynamic in these few years between graduation and the end of the war super interesting.

like Lily and James are married, James and Sirius are best-best friends, and Lily is clearly very close to Sirius by her death. He's probably her closest friend (or one of them) when she dies. And, like, these three are raising baby Harry between them.

Like, Lily asking Sirius to come over to cheer up James... idk... it makes me feel things.

[tgmsunmontue]

Season to Taste - 41/42 WIP

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another.

PROLOGUE/1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 (interlude) 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 (interlude) 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 (interlude) 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 (interlude)

CHAPTER FORTYONE

                “So… I gotta ask. Why do you call him Leo?”

                “It’s how he introduced himself…” Jake says with an easy shrug, and across the room Vi is snorting into her glass of wine, and Maverick is looking curious.

                “In my defense, I didn’t think I’d ever meet you again…” Leo says, and Jake grins. Leo doesn’t hesitate, kissing Jake’s cheek again. He knows the other Daggers are seeing a side of him he doesn’t often expose when he’s working, the side that is saved up for his family and Leo. And occasionally Javy and Phoenix and sometimes Fritz. Less often though.

                “Wait… When did you two meet?”

                “2008.”

                There are collective exclamations of surprise at that and Jake laughs, because it’s a lifetime ago.

                “No way have you been with him since 2008…” Javy says and Jake gives him a conceding nod, because no, of course he hasn’t. Hell. He didn’t even come out to Javy until after DADT had been repealed. Only his family knew.

                “We met again in 2016. In Texas. At the farmers market my family goes to. Bumped into each other. Literally.”

                “Jake was his Cinderfella…” Vi says from across the room, and Jake snorts, because that name will never not be funny to him.

                “Vi… come on.”

                “No wait, I want to hear this,” Fanboy says, looking invested, and Jake guesses that other than Fritz, Javy and Phoenix the others don’t really know him that well.

                “Bradley here is called Leonardo by all my family. Our family.”

                “Wait. I thought you said you were Hangman’s cousin…”

                “I am.”

                “I am so confused right now.”

                “Okay. Short story time,” Vi says, clapping her hands together, and Jake knows she’s had to explain how their family is connected so many times now that she has it down to a fine art. He’s interested how she’s going to include Leo in her story though. “Bradley moved to Italy when he was eighteen and pretty much got adopted by the Gallo family, and my uncle Leandro just started calling him Leonardo. Leo.”

                “Rooster… Gallo…” Phoenix says, and she’s rubbing at her face and looking at Vi warily, and then looking at Jake and he just raises an eyebrow, not quite sure what’s going on there, but no doubt Leo will figure it out and tell Jake all about it.

                “Gallo like in… gallows?”

                “No, gallo is Italian for rooster. Anyway, Leo becomes part of our family. My uncle Leandro and aunty Silvia never had children, so Bradley is their son.”

                Leo ducks his head at that, and Jake knows he’s got complicated emotions around his own parents, and his relationship with Maverick and Admiral Kazansky. Knows he loves Leandro and Silvia fiercely, along with the entire Gallo family.

                “Anyway,” Vi stresses, bringing attention back to her. “These two met, shared a dance and then Jake ran away into the night, leaving behind a heart broken Bradley…”

                “Fuck off, I wasn’t heartbroken…” Leo mutters and Jake lets out a laugh.

                “You left him hanging? Wow Hangman…”

                “A dance huh?” Omaha asks, putting air quotes around the word dance and Leo laughs beside him but Jake is flipping him the finger.

                “Get you mind out of the gutter Omaha.”

                “Ah. Hence the Cinderfella moniker…”

                “Yes. Anyway, fast forward eight years and they bumped into each other at a farmers market in Texas and the rest is history. Been together ever since. They’re disgustingly in love. Any questions so far?”

                She looks like she’s daring the rest of the squad to say something and Jake grins, lets himself lean against Leo’s body and get wrapped in his arms, because yeah, disgustingly in love pretty much sums it up for him.

                “Good. Now it get’s a little confusing. Our great-great grandfather Leonardo Seresin had four children,” Vi says, holding her hand up and showing four fingers. “A son, the eldest, twin girls, and then another daughter. With me so far?” Nods all round, and then Vi holds up her other hand with three fingers. “Great. Then over here we have the Gallo family. Three kids. Oldest is a daughter, then two sons. These three Gallo siblings marry the three eldest Seresin offspring.”

                Jake lets himself zone out a little, has had it explained so many times now, has had to explain it himself, has seen the family tree and photos… yeah. He knows how they’re all related. He’s more interested in watching the Daggers as they listen with avid curiosity, looking between Jake and Vi and then Leo and every time they pass over Leo they seem to do a little double take and Jake realizes it’s because of who Leo is. Famous. It hits him then and he starts a little.

                “Wait… fuck. My sisters. They all know don’t they?”

                “Know what?”

                “How famous you are.”

                “Yeah, right from the beginning. Maria really tried to drop some hints…”

                “Oh fuck… the recipe books… the film crew you brought in for my mom’s videos… oh my god. I’m an idiot.”

                “No… I just don’t think it was important enough for you to care about. You figured out that Ice and Maverick were part of my life without me telling you. That’s a lot more important to me.”

                “I asked Olivia if she was a fan, and she said yes… they’re never going to let me here the end of this.”

                “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

                “I’m just… You know what? I’m just going to pretend I don’t know. Doesn’t change anything anyway.”

                “I know…” Leo says, and he’s looking at Jake with such blatant adoration in his eyes he feels his stomach swoop, because this is the man he’s going to marry. “Love you.”

                “Love you too.”

…            …            …

                Bradley doesn’t think he’s felt such a huge gamut of emotions in such a short period of his life ever before. From believing that Jake and Mav were both missing, presumed dead, to them being alive, the relief and joy, then the sick churning in his gut over telling Jake about Ice and Mav, only to find he already knew… then to being seething mad from reading the report. And swinging back around to relief.

                He doesn’t want to let him go, the afternoon apart has more than tried him and he’s worked through the worst of his anger over Jake and Mav’s idiocy. At least Ice will deal with Mav. He refocuses back on the conversation, isn’t quite sure what Vi has just said but glad he’s been able to pass off the explanation to someone else so he can just hold Jake close.

                “Holy shit. Really?”

                “So when we went for that meal in Italy that time…? That was all your family as well?” Phoenix is asking Vi, and she’s studying Phoenix over the rim of her wineglass.

                “Yes,” Vi states, and Bradley isn’t quite sure why her tone is that sharp, but he’ll ask later.

                “I’m still confused.”

                “Not your family bro, I’d just give up.”

                “Oh my god… Seresin’s Sauce. That’s… you actually made that for him. It’s actually his ketchup. We just thought he was all ego…”

                “Hey!” Jake objects.

                “Sure did.”

                “I gave him so much shit about falling in love with a guy who puts sauce on everything…” Vi says, Bradley laughs as Jake gives her the finger. Glancing at his watch he presses his fingers into Jake’s side gently.

                “Want to come help me in the kitchen?” Bradley asks. They both know that Jake isn’t likely going to help, that he usually just keeps Bradley company. Unless he’s adamant about cooking for Bradley, Jake is happy to let him do everything. Bradley likes it that way, but right now he wants to make out with him a little without an audience.

                “Wait, can Hangman actually cook?”

                “Yeah, he’s a decent cook,” Bradley offers and Jake looks smug. Bradley is overwhelmed with relief that he’s here and he’s okay.

…            …            …

                Leo pulls the door to the kitchen shut very firmly behind them and then leans forward to press a hot urgent kiss against Jake’s mouth. He’s being so careful of Jake’s injuries, it’s sweet, but Jake is definitely feeling better, even if he’s not going to be up for anything close to what he wants to do. He’s already well aware that he could happily go to bed right now if it was a choice. But it’s not. Leo’s fingers skate down his ribs, settle gently on his hip and he lets himself just enjoy being close, in his space again.

                “Missed you this afternoon.”

                “Yeah. Missed you too. Glad we’ve got this time together right now. And I get to meet your friends…”

                “Mmm. Bunch of assholes.”

                “You fit right in then huh?”

                “Yeah, but so will you.”

                Then Leo is pulling back and Jake can see the organized chaos behind him and –

                “That is a fuck load of food…”

                “Yeah well. You know me…”

                “You cook when you’re stressed. And angry. And to show your love…”

                “And when it’s one person who is the cause of all of that?”

                “Shit… I’m sorry baby…”

                “Not your fault. Some of it was definitely self-inflicted. Here. Take this out and pass it around…”

                “What, am I your waiter now?”

                “Just want to see your ass…”

                Jake laughs but does as he’s told.

…            …            …

                “Three months? You’ve got leave for three whole months?”

                “Did you miss the bit where we nearly died?”

                “Don’t you dare fucking joke about that Jake…”

                Jake snaps his mouth shut and presses a soft kiss to Leo’s forehead in silent apology.

                “Three months… you don’t think you’ll get sick of me?”

                “Nope. Don’t think that’s possible.”

                “Ugh. Don’t say it like that. I’ll take it as a challenge…”

                “I can think of other things to challenge you with…”

                “Yeah?”

                “Yeah. Once you’re all healed up that is…”

                “Ugh. Spoilsport.”

                “Yeah, you passing out or busting stitches would be really sexy. Such a turn on…”

                Jake pulls a face, because he knows Leo has a point but he already feels better, just tired.

…            …            …

                Bradley knows Ice has pulled strings and not just about the fact that the have a wedding date in February next year, with guaranteed leave for every single person that Jake and Bradley want there who happens to be Navy. He also guesses that Mav’s promotion to Admiral and subsequent retirement is the work of Ice’s meddling, but Bradley cannot find it in him to care. He’s glad, so glad, that Jake and the others have formed a permanent detachment based between Fallon and Corpus Christi.

                There are still periods when they’re apart, but it’s easier somehow now. Able to put faces to all the names that come from Jake’s lips. Also Fritz doesn’t hold back with his requests for baked goods, and Bradley is more than happy to keep the man who saved his godfather and future husband’s lives in baked goods. He’s in a group chat with Coyote, Phoenix and Fritz, and he gets a whole lot more of candid shots of Jake at work, the type he knows Vi has been supplying Jake with for years. It’s nice to have it finally reciprocated.

                The one thing with having a wedding date set, is the sudden number of opinions he’s apparently meant to have on flowers, or table settings, or guest lists. He and Jake have discussed it, and while neither of them care, they’re also aware it’s a big event for their friends and families. It’s definitely part family reunion and Bradley is glad for them all, waves away everyone’s concerns when they say they’re hijacking the wedding. As long as he ends up married to Jake at the end of the day, it’s fine. Saying the don’t care though is a sure-fire way to wind everyone else up though.

                One thing he does care about is something he wants to have made for Jake, as a wedding present

…            …            …

                He’s back home in Texas, curled up in their bed, a weekend of leave and being in Corpus Christi means a weekend with Leo and he couldn’t be happier.

                “So, they’ve given us a shortlist of songs to consider for our first dance…” Jake says, and he knows his sisters are getting a kick out of organizing his wedding, not having to worry about a budget because Leo simply handed over his fucking credit card. An asshole move Jake couldn’t say anything about because he’s still pretending he has no idea just how famous Leo is. He knows he’s on borrowed time for that though, because he’s pretty sure Maria is onto him. “So we have to pick a song to dance to, and a song to walk down the aisle to…”

                “I’ve… uh. Actually got a song in mind. If you don’t have any preferences?”

                Jake blinks and shakes his head.

                “No. No preference. I really… I didn’t dream of this day or anything. I’m looking forward to calling you my husband, but I didn’t plan out my wedding…”

                “Yeah. No. Neither did I. I just… there’s this one song I’d like, if you listen to it and don’t mind. You might think it’s too cheesy…”

                “I don’t care if it’s cheesy. If you want it, you get it…” Jake says, because so far this is the first thing Leo has expressed an opinion about, including the food, which Jake had thought he’d definitely have opinions about. Instead he’s simply passed it all over to Leandro and Silvia , both of whom have taken the job on with glee. Maria and Olivia are in heaven. Jake’s glad to be out of it.

                “Come on… cue it up and play it for me.”

                Leo does as instructed and Jake listens, and yeah, it’s very old-school, and he’s definitely not going to say no. It’s sweet, reminds him of their first kiss over fifteen years ago and where they are now and what they want together. However he’s going to be a little bit of an asshole about it.

                “Am I the bride in this scenario?” Jake asks, sliding his body against Leo’s with a grin, gets a responding grin, Leo’s fingers gripping his ass. Yep. Time for round two.

                “I mean, you could be in your dress whites…”

                “Pfft. I’m not wearing my whites,” Jake says, and it’s automatic. He doesn’t know why, really, but in his gut he doesn’t want his uniform on when he gets married.

                “Mmm, you look so good in them…”

                “I know, but that’s not the point. You want one of us to be in white you can wear your chef whites…”

                “I don’t want to wear my chef whites!”

                “Well, I don’t want to get married in my uniform!”

                Just like that the mood between them has soured and he doesn’t even know why. He’s annoyed more at that, the not knowing the reason and he sits up and scrubs at his face.

                “I… I’m not asking you to. I just said you look good when you do wear them…”

                Jake shakes his head, because he knows that, both that he looks good but also that Leo isn’t asking him.

                “I just… I’m going to go for a run. I’ll be back.”

                He presses a quick kiss to Leo’s mouth, because he’s not angry or upset but he’s something and it’s unsettling.

…            …            …

                He’s fucked up, he doesn’t know how. But he’d played the song, and Jake had seemed fine with it, and then he’d made a comment about Jake’s dress whites, and it had been a joke… maybe that’s where he’d fucked up. He needs to talk to Vi, and he hurries down the hall to her room, knocks and then pushes it open and another bad decision.

                “Augh!”

                “Shit!”

                “Cazzo!”

                He pulls the door shut and stares at it briefly before turning abruptly toward the kitchen. He doesn’t usually drink but this might warrant it. However he’s still just standing there staring at the wines when he sees movement in the corner of his eye and Vi is there, tying a robe closed.

                “You needed something?”

                “Sorry. I… didn’t think you had company.”

                “Well, I didn’t think I’d see you up for air before dinner. So… Cosa c'è che non va?”

                “Uh… I think Jake is getting cold feet.”

                “Nope. That boy’s feet are on fire. Next.”

                “No seriously Vi. We were just… talking. And then he said he had to go for a run.”

                “Talking? About what?”

                “First dance song and what we were going to wear… Uh. Do I know who is in your bedroom?”

                “One issue at a time. Did you tell him he had to wear something?”

                “No. I don’t care what he wears! He looks good in everything!”

                “He does, and he knows it. What’s the issue?” a familiar voice asks and yeah, his hunch was right.

                “Uh… Phoenix. Natasha. Hi.”

                “Hi Bradley.”

                “Um. Sorry about… before.”

                “It’s fine. We should have used the lock. Vi just seemed to think you’d be distracted for a while.”

                “And usually Vi would be right…” Bradley mutters, because as much as he wants all the gossip right now and when the hell this came about, he’s quietly freaking out about where Jake is and more importantly what he’s thinking.

                “So… Hangman’s left you hanging again. He’ll be back. That man is many things, and stupid about you is one of them.”

                “I just want to know what I did wrong so I don’t fuck up again…”

                “You said first dance song and what you were going to wear. What did you suggest he wear?”

                “I made a joke about his dress whites… but that’s all it was. I don’t care what he wears.”

                “Huh.”

                “What?”

                “Could be nothing, but…” she shrugs, lips twisted in something as she looks at Vi and then away again. “We both served under DADT. It’s hard to be loyal to your service while also being true to yourself. For all Hangman’s ego and confidence now, I can’t imagine it was the same before DADT was repealed. Maybe it was, I didn’t know him then…”

                “Huh,” Bradley says, because of course he hadn’t thought about that for Jake. He’s thought about it for Ice and Mav of course, but Jake and him have never been together under DADT. DADT has never had any impact on him at all. He doesn’t know if that’s the answer, but it’s still enough to ease his immediate panic. Jake had kissed him. It’s fine. He’ll be back.

…            …            …

                He’s dripping sweat, cursing himself for going running in the near midday heat. He should know better, but he’d needed to clear his head and he thinks he has it figured out. And he thinks he can explain it to Leo as well, which is the most important part. He pushes open the front door and heads directly for the kitchen, needs water but also it’s where he expects to find Leo likely stress cooking. Except he’s not there and he stares at Phoenix silently as he downs his bottle of water. This is his fucking house. Well. Leo’s. But still.

                “What the fuck are you doing here?”

                “Having sex with your cousin.”

                “Not right now I hope…”

                “Wouldn’t you like to know…”

                “No. I really wouldn’t. Is Leo…”

                “In your room. Go talk him off the ceiling,” Vi says, stepping into Phoenix’s personal space and he’s not going to show any outward sign of surprise.

                “Thought you’d have better taste Vi…”

                “Fuck you Bagman.”

                “No thanks!” Jake replies.

                “Ho un gusto perfetto,” Vi mutters with narrowed eyes and Jake snorts. Yeah, he guesses she does have perfect taste. He gives them a jaunty little wave and heads away toward his room; pushes open the bedroom door and presses it closed behind him. Leo is lying in the middle of the bed completely naked and Jake’s mouth floods with saliva at the sight.

                “Fuck… could eat you up.”

                “Yeah? Not going to stop you.”

                “Leo…”

                “Jake… I’m sorry. I don’t know what I said, or did…”

                “Shit. No. I… no. Nothing you did. I didn’t mean to make you think it was. Fuck. I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to think it was you. Was just… messy in my head.”

                “It’s fine, I figured out it wasn’t me. I’m sorry too. I don’t care what you wear. I just… I want you to be happy. You could wear a paper bag for all I care…”

                “It’d give you easy access at least…” Jake jokes, and Leo snorts and Jake leans down to kiss him, feels hot and sticky with sweat, but that’s exactly what Leo wants to do to him. “And I figured it out I think. I… my job is important to me, but it isn’t all of me. It isn’t part of my relationship with you. I don’t… I don’t want to have it there on our wedding day.”

                “Okay. That's fine. Good. I wouldn't ever want you to agree with me just to make me happy.”

                “Have I ever agreed with you when I didn’t actually?”

                “I don’t know, maybe you have…”

                “Nah baby, not worth the trouble. We’re perfect just the way we are.”

                “Yeah, we are.”

FORTY-TWO

------- ------- -------

For those of you that like this additional information the song Bradley has asked for is (Today I met) the Boy I'm going marry by Darlene Love, released in 1963.

Today I met the boy I'm gonna marry

He's all I've wanted all my life and even more

He smiled at me and, gee, the music started playing

"Here Comes the Bride" when he walked through the door

Today I met the boy I'm gonna marry

The boy whose life and dream and love I wanna share

For on my hand, a band of gold appeared before me

The band of gold I always dreamed I'd wear

When we kissed I felt a sweet sensation

This time it wasn't just my imagination

Today I met the boy I'm gonna marry

He's just what I've been waiting for, oh, yes

With every kiss, "Oh, this is it", my heart keeps saying

Today I met the boy I'm going to marry

[two-dolla-bills]

Top 10 mechanisms songs that you can get away with playing at a retailers without too many side eyes

I got a job in retail and I felt inspired lol

Disclaimer: this is not a list of the best mechanisms songs/the ones I think deserve to go "mainstream", they're just the ones that would blend in the best

1. Sirens

This song is probably the mechanisms' least "centered" song. It doesn't mention any characters, it has no narration, and out of context it just sounds like A Song that you might hear on the radio. Sirens is to the mechanisms as you're the one that I want is to grease, you know?

2. Trial by song

THIS one. It's in the same category to me as Sirens; you can listen to it by itself and not suspect much. Unlike Sirens which can be completely separated and still make sense, this one is more like a whole new world from Aladdin. There are parts that make it obvious that it's from a larger whole, but if you just so happen to catch the "safe" parts you won't suspect much.

Points were deducted due to Mr. Soldier's unique vocals. (Unique as in not very common in mainstream music)

3. Empty trail

This is no offense to Dr. La Cognizzi, but sometimes when she sings it's hard to make out what she's saying, which works in her favor in these circumstances. It sounds country/rock, which help it blend in with some dad rock songs. If I remember correctly, the melody was actually taken from a Led Zeppelin song, so if you aren't paying attention to what's ACTUALLY being said you can get away with claiming it's a cover.

4. Ties that bind

Although this one does mention many plot points, many fans have stated that they had no idea what the fuck was being said until the have looked for the lyrics (myself included) this, combined with it's jazzy rythm, make it able to blend in with other songs, similarly to empty trail

5. Odin

The most "normal" song out of the entirety of The Bifrost Incident. This song made it to the top five because it has similarities with Roam by the B-52's, but had points deducted due to it clearly being about an awesome space train

6. Lost in the cosmos

This might just be personal opinion, but it sounds like a church song. You can pull off the effect of it being about earth Jesus and not space robot Jesus if you have particularly bad quality speakers and a busy store w/lots of noise. Again, the lyrics kinda give it away as to not being entirely main stream

7. Stranger

Look it's a banger, ok? Many of the lyrics could be taken as just being metaphors, but I feel like you have to squint to "see" it. Pay too much attention and shit gets a little weird. Also, points deducted because it's two men singing together and not a man and a woman, which throws a wrench into the works. At kohl's it might raise some eyebrows but in like hot topic it'll blend in a little better

8. Redeath

You would think a song about a sphoenix (space phoenix) would be lower on the list but you'd be wrong. It's a really pretty song with a good original melody, and it's something that can be drowned out by a particularly rowdy crowd. Like Stranger, it would blend in better at a hot topic than at kohl's, but only slightly.

9. Elysian Fields

The melody in Elysian Fields is taken directly from the song wayfaring stranger, which has been coverd by Jonny Cash, Ed Sheeran, Poor Man's Poison, and The Longest Johns, AS WELL HAS having been featured in the movie 1917 and in the video game The Last of Us II, which make it very recognizable. Because of this recognizability, people who know the original song may be caught off guard by hearing it in a Walmart with completely different lyrics. It was originally in 7th place, but the popularity of the original takes off many points

10. Once and future king

It's a banger, don't get me wrong, but it also very heavily and clearly mentions plot points from the album, which itself is heavily base on Aurtharian mythology; something very well known in the western world (also the names are not common at all and most haven't been in fashion in centuries). In a crowded, busy space with not very good quality speakers it could potentially blend in, but one or two names might sneak out. The only reason it's on the list is because of the instrumental outro, which sounds normal enough

[jamilelucato]

possibility - fred weasley (part 2)

pairing: fred weasley x slytherin!reader

(part 01 here) (more HP fics here!)

summary: being friends with (y/n) has become Fred's biggest challenge.

note: They are in their last year at Hogwarts, so, for purposes, they are 18; besides, the whole canon of the book (it would've been Order of the Phoenix) is mostly nonexistent here.

the reader: can be interpreted as someone with ADHD; she loves literature and she has no friends.

words: 5000+

Enjoy!

Ginny Weasley was a charm, even at the young age of fifteen. 

Being her older brothers around, Fred and George tried their best not to ignore her and make her feel welcomed and heard whenever needed. Most of the time, that was an easy task. But, now that she was getting older, it was harder to listen to her complaints.

“She had no right to say that to me!” she whined, angrily snorting. Her red hair moved with her face as she gestured. “She said it in front of Harry, for Godric’s sake!”

George immediately cast a sidelong glance at Fred. It was no secret that Ginny harboured a strong affection for Harry Potter; her infatuation was apparent to anyone with a Weasley surname, and it was common knowledge throughout Gryffindor House. Only Harry himself seemed oblivious to it. However, as Ginny grew older, her feelings seemed to intensify, and Fred frequently tuned her out, lost in his thoughts, while George assumed the role of counsellor. On that particular day, though, it appeared their roles had been reversed.

“Did he hear what she said?” George inquired gently, addressing his younger sister.

“I believe so,” Ginny responded, her voice lowering as she contemplated the encounter.

"Well, how did he react?" Fred leaned closer, although there was a table separating them from Ginny. The dinner table of Gryffindor was crowded with students, so leaning closer was needed for better hearing.

“He didn't,” Ginny replied, her tone a mixture of confusion and uncertainty. “He was with Hermione, and they were engrossed in their conversation. We exchanged glances, that's all.”

“Could it be possible he was simply aware of your presence and not actually listening to your conversation?” Fred suggested, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

Ginny averted her gaze, reluctant to meet her older brother's eyes. “There's a chance,” she admitted, albeit reluctantly.

“So, he didn't really hear it," Fred remarked, leaning back slightly. “Potter’s a man. If he had heard something and something that involved his name, he would’ve reacted.”

George turned his head to face Fred. “All men, you reckon?”

“Absolutely,” Fred confirmed with a carefree shrug.

But George was out for blood.

“Let's say, for argument's sake, that (y/n) mentioned you. Would you turn to look and react?” George asked, instantly capturing Ginny's attention. She was well aware of (y/n), the enigmatic Slytherin who struggled to maintain friendships but seemed to have formed a unique bond with Fred.

“Sure,” Fred replied, not realising the mischief in his twin's eyes. “I mean, it depends on what she'd be saying about me.”

“Does it really matter?” Ginny chimed in.

“It doesn't,” George answered his sister, then returned to Fred. “But how would you respond to her?”

“She's my friend, Georgie,” Fred teased affectionately, using his twin's nickname. “I'd man up and approach her, saying something like ‘hey, what were you saying about me?’ and get it over with.”

“Get what over with?” Ginny prodded, leaning in closer to Fred.

“Probably turning that friendship into a relationship,” George answered instead of Fred. “I mean, if he were to really man up.”

Fred jabbed his twin with playful force, feeling irked by the insinuations.

“What's wrong with (y/n) and I just being friends?” Fred retorted defensively.

“Nothing,” George shrugged nonchalantly. “She's my friend, too,” he pointed out, “but I don’t dream in my sleep with her doing stuff to me in bed.”

This time, Fred slapped his twin's arm more forcefully. “I've never had a dream about her!”

Ginny burst into laughter, feeling fortunate to sit beside her brothers during this comical exchange.

“You've dreamt about (y/n)?” she asked, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. “What was she doing in your dream? Kissing?” Ginny lowered her voice, casting furtive glances around the room before adding, “Or something more?”

Fred tried to brush off Ginny's teasing with a dismissive wave of his hand despite the hints of a crimson blush creeping onto his freckled cheeks. He shook his head and muttered something about dreams and absurd fantasies.

Ginny and George exchanged a knowing look before George leaned closer to his twin. “Fred, I've known you my entire life, and I can read you like an open book,” he began in a hushed tone. “You're smitten with (y/n).”

Despite his attempts to appear composed, Fred couldn't help but squirm in his seat. “That's nonsense, George. She's just a friend, and I don't think of her that way.”

Ginny chimed in with a playful grin. “Oh, come on, Fred. We've all seen the way you look at her. It's like you're under some kind of love spell.”

Fred glanced around the bustling Great Hall, feeling the weight of the conversation. He had a reputation to uphold, which included being a mischievous troublemaker and a skilled prankster. The idea of admitting his feelings for (y/n) went against the grain of his carefree image. Besides whatever those “feelings” were, they were more complicated than he wanted to admit. 

Instead of confessing his feelings, Fred squared his shoulders and made a decision.

“(y/n), she’s a tough lass,” he started saying, “I'm not going to pursue her romantically. I don't want to complicate things for her.”

Ginny and George shared another look, this time tinged with surprise. Fred was known for his mischievous tendencies but rarely showed such maturity and thoughtfulness.

“What are you going to do, then?” Ginny asked, intrigued by her older brother's newfound wisdom.

Fred flashed a determined smile. “I want to show her she can have genuine friendships, so that’s what I’ll be for her, no matter what.”

Ginny exchanged a glance with George, both impressed and proud of the transformation they had witnessed in their older brother.

“That’s actually… very nice of you, brother,” Ginny said, choked with herself for ever uttering those words.

“Thank you,” Fred shook his head down.

It was a well-known fact that (y/n) struggled to form connections with her peers. While she often blended into the background amidst bustling classrooms and boisterous mealtimes, those who paid attention could discern that, in the end, (y/n) was very much alone. Fred just hoped she wasn’t lonely, too.

And if she was (and, let’s face it, if he were to bet, that would be his horse), he would be her friendly shoulder. Perhaps with his initiative, she would open up to have other friends. But that would sadly mean he should suppress those dangerous feelings (and dreams) about her. He understood that showing romantic interest might deter her from nurturing other friendships or, worse, create an unhealthy dependency on him.

While many boys at Hogwarts might desire such unwavering devotion, Fred cherished his freedom and wanted the same for (y/n). He believed that, given the chance, she too could revel in the joy of genuine friendships.

She could feel his penetrating gaze like a warm breeze brushing the back of her neck. It was a peculiar sensation. Since she had unofficially accepted the title of “Fred Weasley's friend,” (y/n) had begun experiencing inexplicable emotions regarding him.

Sensing his eyes on her was just one of her peculiar talents. Her personal favourite was her knack for anticipating pranks by the twins; her gaze would instinctively find its way to the impending victim.

Leaving her Slytherin common room, she hadn't expected to encounter Fred. However, when she turned around, hoping to spot him, he was nowhere to be seen.

“Odd,” she thought, clutching her book closer to her chest. It wasn't a hefty tome; it was, in fact, a notebook where she jotted down ideas and penned the initial versions of scenes that might one day become her debut novel.

While the underwater ambience of the Slytherin common room often served as a wellspring of inspiration, that day seemed to be an exception. Hence, (y/n) had decided to grab her notebook and her trusty pen (yes, a pen; she staunchly refused to compose her muggle-inspired stories with a quill and inkwell) and head to the Quidditch pitch in search of inspiration.

During free periods or after classes, Quidditch practices were almost always happening. (y/n) hoped to find an eager and spirited team on the field to keep her writing juices flowing.

She dared to look around again before abandoning the idea that Fred Weasley was following her. So, confirming the absence of red hair, she resumed her pace.

To her relief, the Quidditch pitch was packed with a team of blue shirts. Ravenclaws weren't known for their blood on the field, not as much as Gryffindors or Hufflepuffs, but they would suffice. (y/n) selected a spot in the bleachers, tucked away in a corner high enough to observe everything but hidden from the spotlight. A few people were around, mostly students, but not in uniform, so she couldn't tell if they were opponents watching the Ravenclaws train or just supportive friends.

As she settled in, she opened her notebook, placing it on her lap, ready to transcribe the imaginary world blossoming in her mind. The words flowed effortlessly from her pen, her gaze seldom shifting from the training session. The sounds of players in action served as the ideal backdrop to her writing.

Without her realising it, the scene had shifted from focusing on battle, blows and gushing blood to an intimate moment between nameless protagonists. (y/n) had yet to fully develop their backstory, but they always made their presence known when she ventured into the realm of fairies: a tall, strong lad and a quick-witted young lady.

In the scene she was crafting, they bid each other farewell before venturing into an ongoing battle. Although their words hinted at sadness, they teased one another playfully, creating a certain ambivalence that (y/n) found challenging to convey.

She had just finished writing down the boy's response when a voice behind her remarked, “I'd change that. No battle-hardened lad would utter something so… girlish.”

(y/n) didn't even flinch. She had sensed Fred Weasley's presence earlier, and his sudden appearance was merely confirmation that she wasn't descending into madness or becoming paranoid. She felt a flicker of annoyance at the idea that he had been peeking at her notes, but with no Time-Turner to reverse the situation, she decided to take his opinion on board. Fred's perspective on how a boy would speak could enrich her literary endeavour.

“Hello, Weasley," she greeted him, her eyes on him as he gracefully hopped from the seat behind her to the vacant one beside her.

Fred, however, didn't offer a greeting in return. “Why are you here?” he cut right to the chase. 

With a casual shrug, she answered, “Felt uninspired in my common room.” She closed her notebook, a sense of finality in the gesture.

“Of course you did,” he quipped with bitterness. “That place stinks of rich kids and Death Eaters.”

Rolling her eyes, (y/n) couldn't help but feel a tinge of exasperation.

Fred had a peculiar tendency to launch into rants about the Slytherin House, a habit she never entirely understood. She was, without a doubt, a Slytherin through and through. She couldn't imagine belonging to any other house. Ambition coursed through her veins in her academic pursuits and aspirations for a successful writing career. Loyalty to her family was non-negotiable, and luckily for her, her parents weren't affiliated with the Dark Lord, making it easy to stay loyal to them.

In fact, she'd once pointed out to Fred that he'd make a perfect Slytherin himself. His ambitions were evident, especially with the joke shop he and George planned to open. His loyalty to his family, a prominent trait he shared with most Slytherins, was equally unmistakable. His lineage was as pure as anyone's at Hogwarts, if not more so. Her own mother was a half-blood witch. Yet, when she suggested this to him, he'd responded cheeky. “But red is my colour,” he'd declared, putting an end to their discussion.

“Actually,” (y/n) retorted, returning her focus to the ongoing discussion, “Slytherin’s dorms are very inspiring. But not to a battle scene; for that, I needed the smell of sweaty and strategy.”

Fred raised an eyebrow, suggesting that he found her comment rather amusing. “Leave it to the Ravenclaws to provide the strategy, eh?”

Not having an immediate response, (y/n) fell into a contemplative silence. Her eyes remained fixed on the Quidditch field, where the apparent captain of the team was engaging in a heated exchange with one of the beaters.

“So, about your writing,” Fred spoke softly, as if dipping his toes into uncertain waters, “I like it.”

Her gaze snapped to the red-haired boy, curiosity brimming in her eyes. She was always eager to hear both compliments and critiques of her work. To her, praise was uplifting, but constructive criticism was pure gold. She wondered what else he had to say.

“The battle scene sounds absolutely brilliant,” he continued as if reading her unspoken query. “Although I must admit, I missed a few lines; you write too fast, and your cursive is kind of weird.”

(y/n) showed her teeth in embarrassment. She was not used to being complimented about her cursive handwriting, so it wasn’t a surprise that Fred complained about it, but it was still embarrassing to hear about it, especially from a boy with no better penmanship.

“But you had one more complaint,” she reminded him, noticing Fred was silent.

He gulped, swallowing dry and hard.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “The lad there. You don’t know your men.”

“Excuse me?” (y/n) raised her eyebrows, and her voice unintentionally rose in volume.

Fred quickly raised his hands, a peace offering, his intent clearly non-confrontational. (y/n) relaxed a bit, realising she'd somewhat overreacted.

“Did you ever pay attention to how I talk? Or George or Lee?” Fred asked, turning his knees towards hers. Thanks to their sitting position, he towered over her, but less than usual. 

Since she'd accepted her friendship with Fred, she'd inevitably become acquainted with the others in his circle, including Lee Jordan.

“Listen,” Fred sighed, “most men aren't as eloquent as your character. They tend to be a bit more straightforward. Your 'lad' speaks in a way that's... well, a bit flowery.”

“He’s, like, from the sixteenth century,” (y/n) pointed out, defending her nameless protagonist.

“Right,” Fred said, tilting his head. “But that doesn’t actually change anything. No men would say,” and at that, he reached for her notebook without asking permission and opened it to the exact page she had been writing on. “No men would say, ‘I shall miss your sunkissed voice if this ends badly’.”

Placing her hands on her hips, (y/n) arched an eyebrow. “So, how would you put it, then?”

Fred pondered the question, trying to envision the moment in (y/n)'s book. He was not a writer and lacked the skills to be an actor, so he had to re-read the scene to know the rightful reply. He looked back down at the page before returning his gaze to her.

“Don't die,” he suggested, playing the character so well, lowering his tone to sound charming and seductive.

Unfortunately, for (y/n), her heart did a somersault in response. The scene Fred had just read involved the characters' parting words, and the simplicity of “Don't die” carried a powerful weight. It conveyed the protagonist's profound desire for his female counterpart to survive, for her loss would leave a void that could never be filled. The moment's essence was encapsulated in those two words, and Fred had delivered them perfectly.

Not that (y/n) had been planning to meet an untimely end anytime soon, but after Fred's persuasive delivery, she found herself inclined to postpone any thoughts of it indefinitely.

Observing that she hadn't averted her gaze from his eyes and noting the rapid rise and fall of her chest, (y/n) decided to seize the book from his hand swiftly.

“That was ridiculous,” she remarked, attempting to dissipate the moment's intensity with humour.

“That's how I would say it,” Fred nonchalantly shrugged, retracting his knees from their near-contact and turning his attention back to the Quidditch field.

“And who told you my protagonist is based on you, Weasley?” she quipped, tilting her head and arching an eyebrow.

Instead of being hurt by her tone of voice — this was the reaction she anticipated and expected and perhaps wanted — Fred smiled teasingly.

"Well, if you create a character described as handsome, muscular, silky-haired, and unmistakably tall, it's quite obvious to any reader that it's me," he retorted playfully.

Her mouth fell open in mock astonishment at his audacity. With an exaggerated flourish, she dropped the book onto her lap.

“And, of course, you're the female protagonist,” he continued, his smirk growing wider. “Hot-headed and cranky, who else could it be?”

(y/n)'s face contorted into a permanent grimace.

“(y/n), are you writing a fanfic about us?” he inquired, leaning closer into her personal space.

That was the final straw. (y/n) propelled herself to her feet, fueled by her irritation and fixed Fred with an accusatory finger.

“Listen here, Fred. The day I write a book about us, you can call me insane.”

Fred chuckled heartily, clearly relishing her reactions. (y/n) couldn't fathom why he found it all so amusing. Her book centred around fairies battling to regain political power; it had nothing to do with their personal lives. Fred was the one acting irrationally, suggesting it was some sort of “fanfic” and daring to entertain the notion that she would include flattering descriptions of him within the story.

If what he suspected were true, that she harboured a crush on him, then he shouldn't have found the idea humorous. Even if it were indeed fiction, he should have been repelled. (y/n) couldn't help but think that he might be secretly pleased with the notion, which irked her further. She didn't have a crush on him!

She turned on her heel with an exasperated huff and stormed away from the bleachers. However, just before she could escape earshot, she heard Fred's voice, laced with a hint of melody.

“Don't dieee!”

She was on the Quidditch pitch stands again. Only this time, there was an actual match on the field, not just a training session.

The Slytherin team zipped through the air on their latest-generation broomsticks, an annual tradition courtesy of Draco Malfoy's father. They faced off against Gryffindor, known for its fiercely competitive players. Whenever the green and red houses clashed, it was always a breathtaking spectacle.

(y/n) was gladly sitting next to Lee Jordan, narrating the game animatedly. Even when the Slytherins executed brilliant plays, his narration remained spirited. He occasionally mumbled comments about some Slytherin players but also praised them when deserved.

Only three days had passed since Fred Weasley had playfully accused her of basing her book's protagonist on him. Since then, they had seen each other and talked, but the book's topic hadn't resurfaced.

“Wow!” Lee's voice broke her concentration. “The Slytherins are really going after our beaters! I mean, sorry, they're going after the Gryffindor beaters!”

Engrossed in the match, (y/n) confirmed Lee's observation. The Slytherin beaters were prioritising targeting the Gryffindor beaters over the usual strategy of interfering with the opposing Seeker. (y/n) knew little about Quidditch's strategy, so she couldn't discern whether this was a wise move by her fellow Slytherins. However, she grew concerned for the Gryffindor beaters, who happened to be Fred and George.

She rose from her seat, her eyes following the twins' every move.

“The crowd is getting worried!” Lee Jordan's voice resonated, and (y/n) turned to face him. He raised his shoulders innocently as if to say he was just calling it as he saw it. Before she could reprimand him, Lee resumed narrating the game. “Oh, no! They're targeting Fred Weasley. Both beaters against one guy; not fair!”

Fred Weasley's name caused (y/n) to search the sky anxiously, her eyes scanning the field for his broom. The atmosphere was tense. She had attended the match in neutral black attire and sat beside Lee, determined not to favour any team. Although she had recently become acquainted with half of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, she couldn't help but feel allegiance to her house. Despite her intentions, the sight of Fred being targeted stirred worry within her. She left Lee's side and hurried down the bleacher stairs, seeking a better vantage point of the unfolding events on the pitch.

“And Fred's been hit! Fred Weasley is hit. Was it fair?” Lee's voice reached her ears as she made her way down. “Oh, I see. Oliver Wood, Gryffindor’s captain, is asking for a break, a time-out. Let’s give them ten minutes to regroup. We'll be back shortly.”

(y/n) turned back against the field and found Lee’s eyes through the crowd. She was grateful for the encouragement he silently offered with a nod. It was the nudge she needed to practically leap down the remainder of the bleacher steps, racing toward the Gryffindor Changing Room.

Luckily for her, the stands were consistently high, so in the actual field, there was nobody. She quickly reached the right spot but hesitated behind the curtain doors, listening intently. Oliver was addressing the team, urging them to regain their focus. Harry only needed to catch the Golden Snitch, and with Oliver as the Keeper, they would fend off the Slytherins from scoring further.

Summoning her courage, (y/n) poked her head through the curtain doors.

“Fred?” she murmured, but her voice carried to all the players.

(y/n) saw Fred, all sweaty, squeezing a water container over his face, drinking only half of it. “(y/n)?” he asked, confused by her presence.

She took the opportunity to step fully into the Changing Room. The other players exchanged knowing glances but remained silent; they understood she wasn't an enemy. (y/n) had interacted with Oliver, Angelina, and, of course, Harry Potter himself. Their glances spoke more of intrigue as if they were silently questioning the stage of her relationship with Fred.

Fred handed his now-empty water bottle to George, who appeared equally puzzled about what to do with it. Fred then retrieved his bat from the floor and approached (y/n), who remained fixed in her spot, somewhat intimidated by her unfamiliar surroundings.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her worry palpable. “Are you hurt?”

Fred kept moving closer. “I'm fine,” he assured her.

She nodded, darting over Fred’s shoulder, peeking at George. “And you, George? Are you alright?” 

George nodded affirmatively just as Oliver cleared his throat.

“Well, let's regroup outside,” Oliver instructed the team. With that, the players rose from their seats in a flash.

They left the Changing Room, leaving only Fred behind, and George was the last one to go, for he lingered a bit, moving with deliberate slowness. His eyes remained fixed on Fred and (y/n), and as the others filed out, it became evident that Oliver had called them out to grant the pair some much-needed privacy.

As the room emptied, (y/n) seized the chance to scrutinise Fred's face. The water had washed away the grime, revealing his striking features. He looked almost dishevelled, his heart beating fast, and a rosy hue tinged his cheeks. His damp hair was in complete disarray, the ends defiantly pointing in all directions. He seemed to sense her gaze on his unruly locks and ran a hand through them to tame them, achieving only partial success.

“Are you sure you're okay?” Her voice was soft, carrying genuine concern as she narrowed the gap between them, her fingertips yearning to touch Fred's face. “Lee mentioned you got hit.”

Her gentle touch seemed to kindle a fire within Fred. His face flushed, and he stuttered slightly, turning his head to the right when she reached for him.

“Where did the Bludger hit you?” she inquired, studying his face for any signs of injury. His features appeared unscathed, although his cheeks radiated with warmth.

“It grazed my right ear,” he replied, and she instinctively turned his face further to examine the ear. It was only slightly reddened, no worse than the rest of his face.

“I'm sorry they're targeting you,” she uttered with a slow breath, her concern deepening. Her hands left his face, but Fred turned his chin to face her.

“It's part of the game,” Fred shrugged.

Fred had never seen (y/n) like this before. After weeks of their friendship, this was the first time he had witnessed her express genuine concern.

“I know,” she sighed. “That doesn’t mean it’s fair. Or easy to watch.”

“It’s not a battle,” he noted, gingerly alluding to her book.  “No one’s gonna die.”

“But some are going to get hurt,” she stated, her gaze fixed on his ear, her worry etched across her features.

Fred loomed over her, his taller stature requiring her to tilt her head upward to meet his eyes and see his facial expressions. Usually, she appreciated that he was taller, but at that moment, it seemed to create an unwelcome distance.

An unspoken question lingered in (y/n)’s mind: What was she doing there? Why had she hurried to the Changing Room?

“Well,” she cleared her throat, avoiding his gaze, “if you're okay, then I should head back. You know, to watch you win or whatever.”

He smiled at her awkwardness, a not uncommon sight when it came to (y/n). He'd witnessed her awkwardness before, often finding it endearing. She sometimes struggled with conversation, especially with other people, leading to uncertain moments. Fred couldn't help but find those moments rather cute.

“You're not cheering for your own house?” he inquired, the corners of his mouth hinting at an impending smirk.

She pressed the inner corner of her mouth with her teeth, pondering her response. “Not when they're being unfair.”

“Three days ago, I swear you wouldn't have said it's unfair if they were targeting me,” he finally allowed that smirk to surface. It was the second subtle reference to her book, or at least a hint at that day, making (y/n) shy.

“Sometimes I want to hit you, Weasley,” she teased, her tone playful despite her lingering concern.

Fred chuckled, closing the distance between them, if that was even possible.

“Do it,” he taunted, his eyes dancing mischievously.

Her gaze met his, and she couldn't help but wonder if he was genuinely asking for it. She certainly had her reasons to want to hit him. First, for teasing her relentlessly. Second, for insisting on being her friend. Third, for involving her with all of his other friends. And now, that — whatever that was.  She was eager to touch him, just not to do it in the form of a slap. 

Something else fluttered in her stomach, and she hated it, and she hated Fred for it.

“Come on, (y/n),” he teased again, his smirk widening.

Her frustration reached its peak. How dare he jest with her after all the concern she had shown? She had never rushed to find someone before and loathed how unappreciative he seemed.

Without thinking, (y/n) closed the distance between them. Not with a slap, as Fred had half-expected, but with a kiss. It was so swift that Fred barely registered it until he felt her cool lips against his warm ones. A sigh escaped her as she realised he wasn't pushing her away.

And how could he? Fred had yearned for this moment for so long, through countless sleepless nights, because sleep meant dreams, and every dream was about her. Whether he imagined (y/n) seeking help with a prank and then kissing him, or (y/n) struggling with grades and asking for comfort through a kiss, or even the most sensual dreams where she broke into his Gryffindor dorm room wearing nothing but her panties.

Whatever had prompted (y/n) to kiss him, Fred was beyond caring. He hoped she wouldn't stop. He abandoned his mantra of ignoring his romantic feelings for her, forgetting they were meant to be just friends.

Fred kissed her passionately, willingly, leaving his bat forgotten on the floor as he held her close. His hands found her waist, lifting her slightly, bringing her nearer as he devoured her lips.

For (y/n), it felt like paradise. She'd never been kissed before, though she had read about it. Still, she'd assumed a kiss was just lips meeting, nothing more. She hadn't expected her first kiss to be like a scene from a romance novel, but it was. She experienced everything the heroines in her favourite books described: a warmth that started low in her belly and surged upward, a desire to merge completely with Fred. She clutched his red hair as if her life depended on it as if she depended on him.

“Fred! Come on!” a voice from outside yelled so loudly that it snapped both of them back to reality.

Fred was in the middle of a Quidditch match, but somehow, he had just kissed (y/n).

Slowly, he released her, and she stared back at him, her face flushed a deep shade of red, much like his hair. Her hand reached for her own lips as if trying to comprehend that what had just happened was real. She had been kissed. By Fred Weasley.

“We have just a minute, Fred!” the voice shouted again, and this time, (y/n) realised it was Oliver Wood, their captain, yelling.

“I think you have to go,” she said, her voice slightly shaky.

Fred nodded, placing his hands on his hips.

“Like now, Freddie,” she added, and her raised eyebrows conveyed the situation's urgency.

He burst back to reality, hastily retrieving his bat from the floor. Rushing toward the curtained exit, he glanced back at her.

Did he really kiss his best friend when he swore he wouldn’t?

They shared a glance. He would have to be content with that one kiss, for he could never pursue anything more if he wanted (y/n) to maintain her friendships because she was now finally opening up for that possibility.

“Don't die,” she murmured, her tone serious, but a laugh escaped her as she made the witty remark.

Finally, he left the Changing Room. For if he stayed any longer, he feared he would have to kiss her laughter away from her lips.

[found-family-tournament]

Found Family Tournament Round 2 Part 9 Group 42

Propaganda and further images under the cut

Wright Anything Agency (& Company): Phoenix & Trucy Wright, Apollo Justice, Maya Fey, Miles Edgeworth, Pearl Fey, Ema Skye, Kay Faraday & Sebastian Debeste

221B Fam: Ryunosuke Naruhodo, Susato Mikotoba, Herlock Sholmes, Iris Wilson, Wagahai (& Gina Lestrade, Yujin Mikotoba, Kazuma Asogi, Barok van Zieks)

Wright Anything Agency (& Company):

THEY MEAN THE WORLDDDDD TO MEEEEEE for some reason a lot of people in the fandom don't play Ace Attorney 5 which is fair since it's kind of messy BUT. BUT. IT INTRODUCES ATHENA AND DOES SOOOO MUCH FOR THE WRIGHT ANYTHING AGENCY. In AA4 we learn that Trucy Wright made the Wright Talent Agency into the Wright Anything Agency in order to bring Apollo in as a lawyer when before it was just her (a magician) and her adopted father Phoenix (a poker player). and AA5 is all about Athena joining and Apollo learning how to trust her, at least it is to ME. they're so gooddddd aaaaaaa like you've got Phoenix and Trucy who are weirdos who love to scheme and you've got Apollo their longsuffering guy who deals with it all, and Phoenix is the mentor... and then Athena comes in and she has a lot of light and determination and trauma (just like the rest of them lol) and she's SO determined and I like her a lot!! And Trucy is my favorite and Phoenix cares about her SO much but he also has his other found family in the Feys!!!!!! Mia dies in the first game but her ghost stays with Phoenix and her sister/cousin Maya and Pearl are SO IMPORTANT TO HIM he loves them so much that's his sisters to me ;-; he would do anything for them and Trucy and he's growing as a mentor to Apollo and Athena too as the game progress... They don't write them all perfectly but they sure do a lot of things I like :) also feel free to split this up into their Wright Anything Agency or Phoenix + the Feys or Phoenix + Trucy if you need to I won't mind I just love AA's found family a lot

Picture this. You are a attorney in your mid 20s and somehow find yourself surrounded by weird little girls with every case you take on. You officially adopt one but really, all of them are either sisters or daughters to you. Especially your loud, burger-loving lesbian sister. Your childhood friend turned rival turned lover, who has a whip-wielding adoptive sister of his own, goes on a series of investigations while messing around with a furry for a couple of weeks and returns with two 17 year old children, a thieving lesbian and a child with a narcissistic murderer for a father who should've kept him back in school a few grades. Your lover has each of them under an arm, and they are appended to your stable of weird little girls but are very much hidden in the back. Then you find out that your daughter, the official one, has a 22yo trans half-brother with a musical diva mother and was half raised as a prince in Khura'in, so you divorce his boss (who is not your official lover, you just had a weird thing for a while when you were in your alcoholic phase, maybe while your actual lover was still messing around with the furry) very publicly while sending him to prison for murdering your daughter's father. Oh, but you have been disbarred, so you make your daughter's son send his own boss to prison, by planting false evidence on him. Of course the young man punches you in the face. Needless to say he works for you for a couple of years and never finds out that he's related to your daughter because that would require a straightforward conversation, now wouldn't it?

only one of them has never been arrested. only two of them arent lawyers. theyre all gay

Theyre very weird and misteruous and kinda fucked up a bit and they were through a lot but phoenix did his best and trucy well she's still just a kid but oh she's trying so fucking hard and always trying to wear a smile and it's breaking my heart the two of them. Also theyre weird i already said that but let me say it again they are WEIRD. and we love them<3 (the ace attorney fandom)

221B Fam:

I dont have much to say i am just constantly rotating them in my mind BUT i have to say the the last image i attached contains like MAJOR spoilers lol i just wanted the canon images in there

Ace Attorney has some wonderful found families, but this one's particularly special because of their circumstances. An exchange student and his unhinged weirdgirl assistant from Japan feeling so out of place in turn-of-the-century Great Britain, yet finding a completely batshit insane family during their time there...it's just so <3 <3 <3 Also Ryunosuke calls them "the greatest family in the world" and it makes my heart happy. Also they commit lots of crimes