#round 1: canon divergence

[microwaving-tesilid-argente]

curls up into a ballll, time to rework my plotline for the genderbend AU yet again

[annievrse]

LABYRINTH

FEATURING: TRAFALGAR LAW x FEM!READER

SUMMARY: When your captain, Luffy, tells you to run from Bartholomew Kuma on the Sabaody Archipelago instead of fighting, you end up on a submarine...

CONTENT: Fic structure: Sabaody Archipelago → Zou spoilers, canon timeline but majority canon-divergent events, acts are organised by scenes, she/her pronouns, no use of y/n. Content Warnings: Panic attacks, anxiety, descriptions of injuries, blood, passing out, trauma (Luffy & Law), drinking (one instance), torture and violence, guns + getting shot, Doflamingo (+ his past).

Crossposted on AO3: Here

ACT I... IT ONLY HURTS THIS MUCH RIGHT NOW [15k] ACT II... IT ONLY FEELS THIS RAW RIGHT NOW [18k] ACT III... BREAK THROUGH, BREAK DOWN [20k] ACT IV... HOW'D YOU TURN IT RIGHT AROUND? [20k]

See below the cut for the Reader's Devil Fruit! (This can be considered a spoiler for the fic if you want to be surprised).

The Sew-Sew Fruit: A round fruit wrapped in white thread.

The Sew-Sew Fruit is a uniquely versatile Paramecia-type Devil Fruit that grants its user the ability to control and manipulate needles and thread. From creating intricate garments to dealing devastating blows, the user’s mastery of their powers can drastically affect the battlefield—or even the very fabric of a person’s being.

Powers & Abilities 1. Needles: The user can materialize and control a variety of needles of different sizes, from tiny, sharp pins to enormous, thick needles that can pierce through armour. These needles can be used offensively, defensively, or subtly, such as sewing together injuries or fabricating traps. The user has full control over these needles, manipulating them at will to attack or defend in a variety of creative and dangerous ways.

Offensive Uses: The needles can be fired at high speed, becoming deadly projectiles capable of piercing even the toughest materials. By controlling the thread that attaches them, the user can manipulate the needles mid-flight, ensuring they find their mark.

Defensive Uses: The user can also create shields or swords, using needles to form a web-like structure of thread that blocks incoming attacks. Needles can also disarm opponents by targeting their weapons or controlling their limbs, making it harder for enemies to retaliate.

Tactical Uses: Needles can be used to stabilise ropes for abseiling, stitch up broken structures, fix broken buildings or stabilise bridges in an emergency.

2. Sew: This technique involves manipulating large quantities of thread to bind, subdue, or harm targets. The user can weave and manipulate threads in almost any environment—whether in the air, water, or solid ground—and use them to entangle or control opponents. With enough control, the user can manipulate threads to create clothing or equipment out of nothing, even adjusting their own garments to suit various needs. This ability is as creative as it is practical and can be used for a wide range of applications.

Offensive Uses: The user can conjure thick, sharp threads to slice through enemies, creating ribbons of deadly silk that can cut through flesh and bone. Alternatively, they can form spools of thread that tighten around enemies, squeezing them into submission or piercing their skin.

Defensive Uses: Threads can be used to bind attackers or shield allies. Users can also create large thread nets to slow opponents or trap them. In desperate times, the user could stitch up a torn sail or make an emergency parachute from their clothes.

Healing Uses: The thread can also stitch wounds or close injuries.

3. Seam (The Mindscape): The user has the power to pull the soul of a living being out of their body and sew it into a mental "seam"—a space where the soul can wander freely, but their physical body is left in a dreamlike, almost immobile state. While in this mindscape, the target's consciousness is free to roam, but their body remains comatose, trapped in a state where they are unaware of the passage of time.

Effect on Target: When a soul is sewn into the seam, the target's body becomes a puppet, barely alive and completely unaware of what’s happening around them. They can wander freely inside the mindscape, but they cannot control their physical body, which may be left defenceless in the outside world. Time seems to pass differently inside the seam, and a target can lose days, months, or even years while only moments pass outside.

Mindscape Reality: The mindscape can reflect the target's deepest fears, desires, or memories, often manipulating their perception of reality. This can create a disorienting environment where the target cannot tell what’s real and what is an illusion, effectively trapping them in a twisted version of their own mind.

Adverse Effects on the User: While powerful, the use of the Seam technique is taxing on the user. If the user does not manage their energy properly, there can be severe consequences. Prolonged usage can lead to excessive blood loss, typically through the hands—where the thread seems to extract life force—and chronic lightheadedness, causing the user to faint or collapse after extended use.

Permanent Effects: If the user keeps a soul inside the seam for too long without letting them return to their body, there is a risk of permanent damage to the victim’s mind, making them a mindless shell of their former self. Similarly, if the user remains in the seam for too long, they risk losing their own soul to the space, becoming trapped in a dreamlike state themselves.

4. Seam Ripper: A powerful counter-technique designed to protect the user’s consciousness from being influenced, infiltrated, or manipulated by external forces. Using the same fundamental principle as the Seam ability, which allows the user to trap souls and manipulate the mindscape, Seam Ripper acts as a mental defence mechanism, "cutting" away any attempts to tamper with or enter the user's mind.

Psychic Battles: In situations where the user is up against an enemy that manipulates minds, such as someone with telepathy or mind control, Seam Ripper is invaluable. It can break the opponent’s hold over the user’s body and mind, allowing the user to regain control and counterattack.

Countering Other Devil Fruits: Against Devil Fruits like the Magu Magu no Mi (Magma-Magma Fruit) or Suna Suna no Mi (Sand-Sand Fruit), Seam Ripper could be used as a defensive tool to sever any threads of control the enemy tries to establish over the user's mental state, preventing them from becoming disoriented or easily manipulated.

Protection for Allies: If the user is in a team fight, Seam Ripper can also be used to protect allies from mind control or illusions. By keeping their mind free of external influences, the user can focus on helping others without losing control over their own actions.

5. Interfacing: A complex defensive technique where the user manipulates large quantities of thread to weave a nearly invisible network of fine, bulletproof walls. These threads create a labyrinthine structure—an intricate maze—around the user or their allies, effectively confining enemies within a maze of unyielding walls. Each wall, while deceptively thin, can withstand bullets, blades, and even larger attacks, making them ideal for defence, trapping enemies, or controlling the flow of battle.

The technique's true strength lies in its versatility and ability to adapt to the environment. It can be deployed instantly, forming walls of thread that act as both a physical and mental barrier, disorienting opponents as they navigate the maze.

Trapping Enemies: Interfacing is an ideal technique for trapping large groups of enemies or powerful foes who rely on brute force or ranged attacks. It confines their movements and limits their ability to retaliate, while also providing the user with the ability to pick off enemies one at a time.

Control of the Battlefield: The labyrinth not only serves as a trap but as a tool for controlling the flow of battle. The user can close off certain paths, funnelling enemies into chokepoints or force them into confined spaces where they are at a disadvantage. It can also be used to protect allies, making it difficult for enemies to get to them.

Psychological Warfare: The maze is a tool for disorientation. Enemies trapped within it are often at a disadvantage as they struggle to navigate through the confusing structure. Over time, the maze can break the spirit of enemies, making them more susceptible to mistakes or surrender.

6: Binding: An advanced and highly dangerous technique that allows the user to pull memories from a person's mind and transform them into solid, real-world objects or events. When someone’s memory is extracted using the Seam or similar techniques, Binding solidifies the memory by "weaving" it into reality, making it materialize as though it had always existed.

This ability manipulates the very nature of a person's memories, turning the intangible (thoughts, recollections, or imagined scenarios) into something that can be interacted with physically. The user must be cautious, as these manifestations are not limited to harmless recreations—they can be objects, environments, or even people who appear precisely as they were in the person’s mind. Once bound, these memories can have an unpredictable impact on both the person who owns the memory and the world around them.

Trapping Enemies with Memories: The user can trap an enemy in a situation by binding a specific memory to reality. For instance, a traumatic memory can manifest as a real-world trap, forcing the enemy to relive their worst fear in physical form, distracting them long enough for an attack or escape.

Manipulating the Battlefield: Binding can be used to manipulate the environment around the user. A memory of a past battlefield, a familiar place, or even a natural disaster can be made real, distorting the surroundings to give the user an advantage or to confuse the enemy.

7: Stitch: This is the most dangerous and enigmatic ability of the Sew-Sew Fruit. It is an advanced and final step in manipulating memories. When used in tandem with Binding, Stitch takes the already manifested memory and secures it permanently in the physical world, making it an unalterable fixture of reality. Unlike Binding, which creates temporary, often unstable manifestations, Stitch locks the memory into existence, preventing it from fading, shifting, or dissipating.

Once a memory is "stitched" into reality, it becomes as permanent as any natural part of the world—whether it’s an object, an event, a place, or even a person. This technique allows the user to cement entire histories or scenarios into the present, permanently altering the world around them.

Creating Permanent Allies or Minions: If the user wishes, they can create a permanent army of memory-constructed figures or allies. Once these individuals are stitched into existence, they are real, living beings, albeit based on the memory from which they were drawn. This can be a powerful tool in battles that require long-term assistance.

Alterations to the Battlefield: Stitch can also be used to permanently alter the environment in the user's favour. A battlefield memory could be "stitched" into existence, creating an environment that traps or confuses enemies or provides a constant source of cover for the user’s team.

Weapon Creation: By extracting memories of powerful weapons or tools, the user can create permanent, reliable sources of combat strength. Once stitched into reality, these weapons would become unbreakable and always available.

Historical Manipulation: In larger-scale battles or political maneuvering, Stitch can alter the course of history by creating a permanent record of a particular event. For instance, the memory of a legendary battle or a famous leader could be made tangible, affecting the outcome of future events.

In essence, Stitch is the final, irreversible step in altering reality with the Sew-Sew Fruit. It allows the user to permanently cement a memory into the real world, creating a lasting change that cannot be undone. This powerful technique has the potential to reshape the world, but it comes with the risk of unintended consequences, personal trauma, and a heavy toll on the user’s energy and mind. It is a tool of immense power and responsibility, capable of creating eternal legacies or causing irreparable damage.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

The Doctor's Sister 🩶 | Charlie Swan Imagine

Takes place during Twilight: Eclipse & Breaking Dawn P.1

Twilight Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Charlie Swan x female!vampire!reader (romantic), Bella Swan x Edward Cullen, Edward Cullen x reader (platonic), Bella Swan x reader (platonic)

Content warnings: fluff, flirtatious banter, slight canon divergence | female reader (she/her) | wc: 2.9k

requested 📥 yes/no

Premise: It was supposed to be a quick trip in-n-out of the house to pack for her weekend excursion at the Cullen residence, but when Bella gets sidetracked talking to her dad, it results in Charlie being introduced to a member of the Cullen family who's a sight for sore eyes and a silver tongue.

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

“Give me five minutes,” Bella climbed the steps of her home, shooting a glance to the person over her shoulder, “I need to grab a few things and let my dad know I’m not being kidnapped…or skipping town again.” Without waiting for their reply, Bella entered the house and shouted for Charlie. 

“In here!” he called from the kitchen, Bella walking in to find him seated at the table, newspaper in hand as he ate lunch. Out of uniform as it happened to be the rare occasion he got the day off. 

“I’m staying over at the Cullens this weekend,” she announced, then quickly added at his taken aback expression, “if that’s alright with you. Alice wants to have a sleepover while the rest of her family is camping.” 

Shrugging, not really putting up a fight, Charlie replies, “That’s fine. Is it just you two?” Bella nods, making him hum and visibly pleased. “Cool. Just check in once a day for your old man’s sake.” 

“Of course,” with a tight smile, Bella turns on her heel and rushes up the stairs. Packing her Jansport and a duffle bag with clothes, her homework, and toiletries to last till Sunday. Lastly grabbing her journal and copy of Wuthering Heights on her way out. 

Setting her bags by the door, she goes back to the kitchen, seeing Charlie’s back to her as he washes the dishes in the sink. “You gonna be okay while I’m gone?”

“Bella, I'm a grown man and know how to take care of myself. Go, have fun with your friend.”

She bites her lip, shuffling on her feet, “Are you sure you’re fine with me staying over there?”

“You said it’s just you and Alice, I see no reason to think otherwise,” drying his hands with a towel, he turns to face her, slightly shrugging, “she’s a nice girl and--.”

“You like her more than Edward,” She finishes his sentence with a defeated sigh. She’ll never change his mind. And nothing Edward could do will win him Charlie’s favor. It was a losing battle they were fighting.

  Walking up to the counter, Bella leaned her back against the surface while keeping her attention on her dad. “I know, I just thought…after what happened last fall…”

“Please, don’t remind me, Bella.” 

She flushed again, “I’m sorry. And I know it doesn’t make up for what I did or what part the Cullens’ played in it…but they’re my friends. And Edward is a part of my life, Dad. I’d like for you to find some forgiveness if you can.”

Charlie simply shakes his head, not really believing his next words but saying them for her sake, “You forgave them. I’ll try to. I may not know the whole story but I trust you--well I trust your judgment,” he corrects, narrowing his brows resulting in heat to reach Bella’s cheeks. Reminded of her impulsive trip to Italy. 

Which he doesn’t even know the whole story about. Best he didn’t. Some secrets were worth keeping

Speaking of secrets. Bella completely forgot about the person waiting for her outside. Who took it upon herself to interrupt the conversation between father and daughter once her patience began to run thin. 

“Bella,” The human swore her heart stopped, snapping her head to the entrance of the kitchen to find the source of the voice leaning against the doorframe with a mischievous smirk. Obvious delight in her eyes which were obscured by the tinted round sunglasses she wore. Charlie, also surprised by the sudden interruption--of a stranger no less in his house, spun around with wide eyes, immediately becoming flustered. “You didn’t say your father was so handsome.” 

The sound Charlie choked on caused the woman’s smirk to widen. Bella shooting a, ‘what the hell?’ look, before saying, “I told you I’d be right out.”

“You said five minutes,” barely glancing at her watch, her tone shifted to mock annoyance. “It’s been six. Now, aren’t you going to introduce me? It’s been so long since this town has had anyone that’s a sight for sore eyes.” 

Rolling her eyes, Bella waved a hand and turned to Charlie with apologetic eyes, who was perplexed, flushed by her flirtation, and awaiting an explanation. “Dad, this is Y/n Cullen. Carlisle’s sister.” 

“Sister?” he finally found his voice, shocked by the revelation, yet somehow gathered himself to shake her gloved hand when she presented it. Having not realized she’d pushed off the doorframe and approached the two. “I didn’t know the doctor had a sister.” 

“Oh,” she removed her sunglasses, revealing golden eyes. The same stunning color of her family. “Forgive my little brother.” Little was really pushing it. Carlisle had over 200 years on Y/n, but she was physically older having been transformed in her early to mid 30s. “We haven’t seen each other in years. Plus he’s too busy saving lives and raising children. I wouldn’t put it past the small detail being omitted, not to mention I’m rarely in the country to check in.”

Charlie, a little unsettled by her nonchalant way of saying the two were estranged, says, “What brings you back to town? Bella mentioned the Cullens were going camping.”

‘Oh you know, just preparing to fight against an army of newborn vampires to repay a debt owed to my dear brother and nephew after they killed my former lover who tried to kill me.’

“Yes, we leave this afternoon for the mountains,” Y/n smiles, still thinking about what awaits them in the days to come. “I’m not one for camping, but it’ll be nice to spend some time with my brother and the family after so many years abroad. And to answer your question, I came back home for Edward, Alice and Jasper’s graduation.” 

“Y/n arrived last month and will be staying for a few weeks.” Bella interjected, trying to hide the stress in her voice. “But we met last summer.” The woman smirked, bringing a finger to her lips as the memory of their first meeting flashed in her mind. Where Y/n mistaken Bella for a stray human and Edward had to tackle her away, leaving poor Bella partially traumatized. Ever since then the two have developed a sisterly/aunt-niece relationship.

“Total misunderstanding,” Y/n waved a hand, winking at the man and ignoring the warning look she was receiving from Bella. “I had one too many that night and may have said or done some things I’m not proud of. Especially for a first meeting. But Bella here is an angel, and luckily there were no hard feelings. Am I right?” Bella just sent a thumbs up, willing the conversation to end and save her father from Y/n’s antics. 

“Well we’re gonna go,” Bella leans to give Charlie a kiss on the cheek, gesturing for Y/n to start walking to the door. “Don’t want to keep Alice waiting before she decides to hunt us down.”

Y/n, humored by the girl and loving the way she and her father get easily flustered, goes, “Oh alright. Charlie, it was a pleasure to meet you,” while not hiding the way her eyes flicker up and down his body. Lips curling, liking what she saw.

Shaking her hand once more, this time longer and the touch lingering as they let go, Charlie smiles, “You as well, Y/n.”

“While I’m in town I could use a tour guide. It’s been ages as I’ve said since I’ve been in Forks and would love to know what all the hot spots are. As the chief of police,” her white teeth flash, nearly blinding the humans by their brightness, “care to show a lady around town?”

Desperately trying to not become red as a tomato, Charlie holds himself together and accepts the offer, “I’d be honored to.”

It’d been years since he caught the attention of a woman. The last date he went on was probably before Bella moved in. Or longer than that with how busy work had been. Now here he was with the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, in his kitchen, chatting him up and not afraid to show her attraction. 

“Wonderful,” Y/n mentally laughs at the exasperated reaction by Bella. Focusing on the handsome man in front of her. “I’ll be in touch.” Sending one last wink, Y/n turns on her heel and exits the kitchen. Bella follows her out, but not before giving one last apologetic glance to her father and grabs her bags as the two leave the house. 

“Did you really have to do that?”

“What?” Y/n laughs/scoffs, moving to the driver’s side of her classic Ford Mustang. Bella putting her bags in the front seat while tsking. “Can’t a lady flirt and have some fun without being judged for once in her life.”

“I don’t care who you flirt with, Y/n. I’m not like Carlisle or Edward,” Bella buckles in, hearing the roar of the engine fill her ears. Letting her hands fall to her lap, she turns to the vampire with pleading eyes. “But he’s my dad. And he doesn’t know about anything. So please don’t mess with him--especially when you’re leaving once this is all over.”

“Relax,” Y/n places her sunglasses back on the bridge of her nose, leaning against the smooth leather of the seat. “I’m not going to get tangled with your father. He seems like a good guy. But I’m not kidding when I say he’s a sight for sore eyes.” Bella groans, igniting a laugh from the vampire. “Listen I’ve been around the world and this town takes the cake for the blandest looking men I’ve ever seen. The women are gorgeous and can do way better than what they’re given. But damn,” a low whistle leaves her lips.

Bella groans again, rubbing her temple, “Okay I get it. You think my dad is attractive. Now can we please go?” 

With one last obnoxious laugh, Y/n steps on the gas and drives them away from the house. Blasting Price’s ‘Let’s Go Crazy,’ for all ears to hear. To which Y/n casually drops that she partied with Prince back in the 80s. And while Bella tried to assure herself Y/n would adhere to her promise not to mess with Charlie, she couldn’t help but think of the way her father lit up during that short encounter. Like he was mesmerized.

Something she hadn’t seen from him in years.

August 13th

The reception was in full swing. Bella held tight to Edward’s hand as he led them around to greet the guests. Alice had really gone all out on the perfect ceremony followed by the perfect party. Of course she had help from Rosalie and Y/n, who ended up staying after the newborn army ordeal once Edward and Bella announced their engagement. A decision which surprised everyone, but Carlisle the most. 

And Bella had a tiny inkling the reason involved the person she was approaching the couple with. 

“Well I gotta say,” Charlie began, beer in one hand and the other holding Y/n’s. Both wearing matching smiles. “Alice sure knows how to throw a party.” Edward chuckled, pulling Bella closer to him as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. 

“I agree.”

“That’s the last time I’ll ever put my two cents in when it comes to planning an event,” Y/n comments, leaning into Charlie’s side. Her purple satin dress complimenting his dapper tuxedo. “Felt like I was going to lose my mind.” 

“Thank you, Y/n, for everything. I know going head-to-head with Alice is a tough battle,” Bella teases, causing the woman to playfully gasp and the two men grinning. The sight of her father looking happy brought a smile to Bella’s lips, beaming at the way he looked ten years younger. All the usual stress and tiredness in his features disappearing. 

After the battle in June, Charlie held his promise to show Y/n around town. Then the meetings continued. And when Y/n planned to leave Forks, her debt to the family paid, she suddenly announced she was renting a small home on the outskirts of town, leaving the number to a landline phone she installed. 

“Carlisle, I love you. And I love this family like they are my blood one,” she said to him on her way out of the Cullen home, the older vampire following her with a million questions. “But I'd rather get my head ripped off by Aro than live under the same roof as you and your heathens you call teenagers. Trouble seems to follow you lot, and I do not wish the same for me. So,” patting his cheek like a sister would a brother, Y/n blows a kiss and scurries off, “call me if you need or drop by…but I can’t assure I’ll be of service.”

Yeah, it wasn’t long before they found out from Alice’s visions Y/n was seeing Charlie Swan. Not to mention Bella came home to Y/n’s Mustang in their driveway. Where she walked in to find Y/n pretending to enjoy a cup of coffee while she and Charlie discussed Italian history. 

Two months later, the two have officially entered a relationship. Bella was initially reluctant to accept it, but upon seeing their interactions, and the obvious affection they shared, she knew it would be wrong to come in between their happiness.

And it would also make her a hypocrite if we’re being real. 

“Is it like us?” she asked Edward one night, cuddling him in her bed while Charlie sleeps down the hall. “In Italy, Aro said my blood sings to you. Does his sing to her?” She felt him shake his head.

“What we have is rare. Most vampires never meet their blood singer--and in some cases become so overwhelmed by the scent they end up killing them.” Bella shivers, recalling the time Edward told the story of Emmett killing his blood singer. “But the feelings my aunt shares toward your dad is like the rest of my family. What Carlisle felt when he met Esme. Why Rosalie begged him to change Emmett when she found him. Why Alice waited decades at the restaurant for Jasper.”

She understood where he was going. Realizing the extent of Y/n’s fondness for Charlie. The sparks that collided in their first meeting and continued with each encounter. 

But Bella made Y/n swear to her she’d come clean to Charlie before the year was over. Figuring out the next step though….that was a conversation for another day. 

“Well we wanted to offer our congratulations,” Charlie’s voice pulled Bella out of her thoughts, bringing her back to the present. “We know a lot of people wish to do the same, so we won’t hold you up.”

“Thank you, dad,” Bella let go of her husband to embrace her father, moving to Y/n to do the same while Edward shook Charlie’s hand. “And thank you, Y/n.” 

“Of course. It’s not every day your favorite nephew gets married.”

“Don’t let Emmett hear that,” Edward jokes, smirking when he hears his brother’s thought from across the dance floor, ‘I heard that!!’

At that moment the beat of TLC’s ‘Baby-Baby-Baby’ starts to play, prompting Y/n to tug on Charlie’s hand. “Now this is my song. C’mon doll face, let’s show them how it’s done.” Flushing red, Charlie downs the rest of his beer, handing the empty glass to Edward--who winks at him while Bella holds back a giggle, and follows his girlfriend to the dance floor. Joining Carlisle and Esme, and Billy and Sue. 

“You know,” Edward leans down to whisper, grinning as he takes in the scene of his aunt and Bella’s father dancing. “I would’ve never guessed your dad would be the one to ground the infamous Y/n Cullen.” 

“Baby, baby, baby

I got so much love in me

Oh baby, baby

Baby, baby, baby

'Cause if you gonna get me off

You got to love me deep”

Tilting her head back with laughter, Bella nuzzles into his touch, admiring the scene as well when she brings her gaze down again. “I never thought I’d see the day Charlie Swan gets sweeped off his feet. By the Doctor’s sister nonetheless.”

“Baby, baby, baby

I got so much love in me

Oh baby, baby

Baby, baby, baby

'Cause if you gonna get me off

You got to love me deep”

Chuckling, Edward leans his head on hers, “They make a good pair. Don’t they?”

She agrees with a hum, “They do.” Bella adjusts their position, so they are now facing each other on the dance floor, swaying to TLC like everyone else. Mouthing along to the words and at one point meeting Y/n’s eyes. The two share a wholesome look, igniting a loving wink from the vampire to the human girl's nod of respect. 

“I can have any man that I want to

Time and place that I choose to

But I think you know that I would rather be here with you, yeah.”

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

Apr 21st

~*~

1. This is for ItMf: I'd really like to read well-written fics where WWX defends LWJ or is protective in situations where LWJ is gossiped about or spoken badly about. Fics like Make This Chaos Count. Can be AU or canon-verse. Bonus points for lwj knowing or overhearing wwx defending him

seeds by antebunny (G, 3k, WangXian, SS & LWJ, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Identity Porn, Dramatic Irony, identity theft, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, the Inherent Romance of Being Known, BAMF WWX, protective boyfriend WWX, simp LWJ)

Rumor Doesn’t Have It (But Wei Wuxian Is Determined to Change That) by misscam (M, 4k, WangXian, Humor, Post-Canon)

🔒 Life is Like a Stranger by through_shadows_falling (T, 69k, WangXian, Kid Fic, Child LWJ, Child WWX, First Meetings, Canon Divergence, Cute Kids, Orphan WWX, Autism Spectrum, Fix-It, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, POV LWJ, Growing Up Together, WWX raised at Cloud Recesses, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Puberty, Growing Up, Coming Out, teenage angst, Wet Dream, Pining, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Brief mentions/moments of WWX kissing others in chapter 22 but only on the cheek, also characters kiss WWX on the cheek in chapter 23, but his real first kiss is with LWJ)

Blooming Days by Atsushiis (G, 7k, WangXian, LWJ & LXC, LWJ & MM, Modern, College/University, Meet-Cute, First Dates, First Kiss, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, LWJ Has Feelings, Let LWJ talk about his feelings agenda, Romance, Falling In Love, Wangxian are softer than a baby bunny, gratuitous handholding, Give LWJ hugs agenda, LWJ Protection Squad)

~*~

2. hiiiiiii any fics where wwx gets along with/is close with lxc or lqr (especially lxc)? @ashxi-wx

The Threads of Fate by WaitForTheSnitch (E, 190k, WIP, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, Good Uncle LQR, Protective LWJ, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Pining LWJ, WWX in WWX’s Body, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Oblivious WWX, Siblings JC & WWX, Supportive JYL, Protective NHS, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Comic Book Science)

Righteous at a Cost by thunderwear (G, 21k, wangxian, LQR & WWX, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, no one dies, LQR finds out about WWX’s core, WWX and LQR are friends??, In My Fic?, its more likely than you think, LWJ in the bg like whats happening?, Fluff, WWX goes to Gusu, Mutual Pining, Golden Core Reveal)

Of Pining, Obliviousness and Failed Seclusions (Or How Gusu Lan Sect Almost Got Eight New Sect Rules) by misscam (G, 3k, WangXian, Post-Canon, CQL and novel mix, Spoilers)

🔒💖 Hoards and treasures by apathyinreverie (T, 21k, WangXian, Siblings, Family, not particularly Jiang friendly, YZY Bashing, slightly darker Gusu Lans, LXC being the best brother, Some manipulation, But with the best of intentions, and not between wangxian, Dragon LWJ, Fox WWX, Smitten LWJ, Fluff, perfect happiness, adorable WWX, Romance, Some worldbuilding, courting)

🔒 Smile for Me by kuro (T, 9k, WangXian, Fluff, Jealousy, Modern, College/University, Bicycles, Coffee, Siblings)

Always the right way round by so_shhy (G, 3k, WangXian, LXC & LWJ, Modern, Fluff, LWJ Loves Rabbits, Office Party, LXC is a Good Big Brother, WWX is an excellent boyfriend, POV Outsider)

Lessons relearned by Iamnotawriter (T, 44k, WangXian, LQR & WWX, Not Madam Yu Friendly, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inventor WWX, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, No Golden Core Transfer, YZY Bashing)

🧡 All will be well when the day is done by abCEE (T, 76k, WangXIan, Canon Divergence, Fix It, Not Jiang Family Friendly, JFM & YZY Bashing, Fix it for our main characters, Time Travel, Butterfly Effect, Madam Lan Lives, No Sunshot Campaign, Artistic License, Unreliable Narrator, JC Bashing, non-yunmeng WWX, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Good Uncle LQR, OOC, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, WWX gets the love and care that he deserves from the very beginning, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiangs, verbal and physical (c/o Zidian) abuse from YZY)

What Becomes of the Melting Snow? Series by Admiranda (T, 7k, WWX & LXC, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Supportive LXC, LXC putting in his character development, Supportive Sibling LXC, WWX and LXC are brothers-in-law, Post canon, a long overdue apology)

Discordant Rhapsody by nirejseki (T, 49k, LQR & WWX, wangxian, JC & WWX, WQ & WWX & WN, LWJ & LQR & LXC, canon divergence, fix-it, hurt/comfort, trauma, politics, protective LQR, protective LWJ, protective WWX, LQR centric, whump, angst)

The Beast of Gusu series by Netrixie (T&M, 212k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Wolf WWX, Slow Burn, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Happy Ending)

💖 Light Source by abCEE (M, 31k, wangxian, not Jiang friendly, no golden core transfer, fall of the jiang sect, happy ending)

~*~

3. Hi Mods! I'm in the mood for a fic with sugar daddy!LWJ. It doesn't have to be formal. Just vibes will do. I just want a fic with LWJ spoiling a downtrodden WWX. @themlb37

🧡 All Old Things are New Again by The Feels Whale (miscellea) (M, 51k, WangXian, Reincarnation, Modern AU, canon still happened, extreme post canon, Sugar Daddy, Kink Negotiation, gentle dom!LWJ, canonical levels of consent play, Modern Cultivators, cultivators can recognize important people from previous lives, vaguely, this started out as a cute sugar fantasy and got just incredibly horny very fast, blame LWJ)

🔒 Where You Fell by Sweet_William (E, 303k, wangxian, 3zun, NHS/JC, JYL/JZX, Modern, Angst, Mutual Pining, Homeless, Getting Together, Slow Burn, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, accidental sugar daddy LWJ, Suicidal Thoughts, Self-Esteem Issues, Coffee Shops & Cafés, Autistic Character, WWX Has ADHD, Panic Attacks, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sex Work, Implied/Referenced Substance Abuse, Eventual Happy Ending)

🔒 Lost Boys - The light that he brings by raitala (E, 106k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX, LSZ & LWJ, Modern, Kid Fic, Emotional Baggage, LWJ is on the Asexuality Spectrum, Neurodivergent LWJ, Hurt/Comfort, sugar daddy LWJ, LSZ is the bestest boi, LWJ is trying his best, WWX needs a hug, background societal homophobia, Grief/Mourning, Under-negotiated Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Mild Painplay, Sharing a Bed, Family Feels, Nice LQR, Adoption, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Spit Kink, Slow Burn)

Wei Ying it’s cold outside… by Liebing (T, 4k, WangXian, Fluffy, Modern, They were neighbours, Cute, WWX is always cold, LWJ worries, winter feels, Soft, Misunderstandings, accidental sugar daddy, Getting Together, Enemies to Lovers, WWX likes being a sugar baby but feels sorta bad about it, LWJ really likes being a sugar daddy but feels bad about it, wangxian being idiots as usual, WQ is the best bff, Swearing, WQ will dick punch anyone who disses WWX, Sweet)

Eat the rich (start with me) by deliciousblizzardshark (T, 7k, WangXian, Modern, College/University, Sugar Daddy LWJ, Soft LWJ, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oblivious WWX, Pining, Crack, Domestic Fluff, Poor WWX, Roommates, Spanish Translation, Podfic & Podficced Works, Podfic, Podfic Length: 30-45 Minutes)

something just like this by ThirtySixSaveFiles (E, 2k, WangXian, Intercrural Sex, Thighfucking, Semi-Public Sex, Exhibitionism, (kind of), I cannot emphasize enough how much LWJ is flying by the seat of his pants here, or the seat of WWX’s, also don’t do this, there is no tip big enough to cover this sorry LWJ, Mirror Sex, Modern, lwj’s sugar daddy tendencies give me life)

golden when the day met the night by glitteringmoonlight (Not Rated, 95k, WangXian, Slow-ish burn, Sugar Daddy LWJ, Light Angst, Fluff, Developing Relationship, WWX gets all the appreciation he deserves, even if he’s a bit confused about it at first, warprize au with a twist, in that everyone thinks WWX is a warprize, but LWJ has only platonic and honourable intentions, at first 😏, Eventual Smut, WIP)

🔒 Snow by kuro (M, 38k, WangXian, Modern, Snow, Sick Character, Caretaking, Fluff, Sugar Daddy, only they’re like… bad at it, Angst, Rabbits, Food, Sexy Times, occasionally)

Stray Cat by Surprised_by_witches (E, 148k, WangXian, Modern AU, Dealing With Trauma, Angst, Depression, OCD, Past Drug Use, Non-Binary NHS, Brief suicide ideation, Slow Burn, Self-Harm, Past Child Abuse)

~*~

4. Fics where lan wangji has a sweet tooth? doesn't have to be a big plot point (if Sex happens please be top LWJ/bttm WWX only!! Thank you)

the secret ingredient by queen_gee (T, 8k, wangxian, modern, colllege/university au, tooth-rotting fluff ;), baking, idiots in love, pining, light angst)

As You Like It by cosmicmilktea (T, 8k, wangxian, post-canon, food as a metaphor for love, tea, light angst, fluff)

~*~

5. Itmf I would like to read some canon divergence story which is focused on Nie Huaisang and/or his friendship with Wei Wuxian. Even friednship with Lan Zhan is great. I just like fics where others realise Huaisang's brilliant mind and don't underestimate him anymore.

🔒 If you liked it then you should have put a (sect robe) on it by KizuKatana (T, 49k, WangXian, WWX & NHS, Canon divergent after Cloud Recesses lectures, Public humiliation (not the sexy kind), Sect posturing, no golden core transfer, Madam Yu and JFM’s A+ Sect Leadership, WWX joins the Nie)

smoke and mirrors by via_the_cryptid (M, 33k, NHS & NMJ, NHS & WWX, NMJ & WWX, JC & WWX, Hostage Situations, Canon Divergence, BAMF NHS, NHS Knows Everything, NHS & WWX Friendship, NHS Loves NMJ, NMJ Lives, Disfigurement, Dismemberment, Torture, Aftermath of Torture, Whump, Imprisonment, Sunshot Campaign, Introspection, POV NHS, NHS-centric, NHS Needs a Hug, Scheming NHS, Dark JGY, Minor Character Death, mind the tags please, NHS Wields Battle Fans, Hurt No Comfort (for now), Angst with a Happy Ending, Fix-It of Sorts, Not Everyone Dies, No Golden Core Transfer, Pre-NHS/WN, Protective WN, Corpse Desecration, Protective NMJ, NMJ Needs a Hug, Supportive LXC, BAMF WWX, NMJ Loves NHS, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Qishan Wen Indoctrination, BAMF WN, Cinnamon Roll WN, Protective NHS, NHS is a Little Shit, WWX really just takes everything in stride doesn't he, Stressed NMJ, Good Older Sibling NMJ, WRH Dies, bit of crack tbh, JC has no idea what the fuck is going on, LXC Needs a Hug, Stressed LXC)

My heart knows (you’re the missing piece) by makexianxianhappytoday (T, 73k, wangxian, WWX & Jiang family, BSSR & WWX, canon divergence, rogue cultivator WWX, not Jiang friendly, protective LWJ, butterfly effect, no golden core transfer, WIP)

Green-gege Saves a lot of Lives by Eternal_writes (T, 11k, WangXian, WQ & WWX, WN & WWX, YLLZ WWX, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Burial Mounds Ensemble as Family, Wen Remnants Live, Everyone Lives, Fix-It, Soft NMJ, POV NMJ, POV WWX, Supportive NMJ, Protective NMJ, NMJ solves all the problems unintentionally, NHS Knows Everything, NHS’s spies are talked about alot, NHS manipulates from the shadows like the best friend he fucking is, NHS & WWX Friendship, Sworn Brothers NHS& WWX & WN, BSSR makes a small appearance at the very end, Immortal BSSR is the best grandmother, Golden Core Reveal, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Good Sibling JC, Soft JC, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, WWX Lives, WWX Loves LWJ, WWX is not as oblivious as canon, WWX gets the help he deserves and his family back, Featuring WWX’s inventions)

Story-Shaped by lingering_song (T, 13k, NHS & WWX, WangXian, Post-Canon, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Inventor WWX, Found Family, NHS needs a new hobby, And apparently that’s spoiling his Wei-Xiong, Mentioned Character Death, Alcohol, Protective NHS, WangXian Endgame, Not JC Friendly, Not particularly gentry sects friendly overall tbh)

The Wrong Man by Remma3760 (Not Rated, 125k, WangXian, Sect Leader LWJ, Evil JGS, Canon Divergence, Golden Core Reveal, Major Character Death (not Wangxian))

while covered in mud by merthurlin (T, 12k, NHS & WWX, NHS & NMJ, NHS & Wen remnants, mentioned wangxian, canon divergence, fix-it, NHS goes farming and Hates It)

~*~

6. Hello, I am in the mood for a fic where Lan Zhan is not part of the Gusu Lan. I have read awesome fic Turn Left by kianspo (Lan Zhan growing outside of Gusu and becoming rogue cultivator) and I am looking for something similar. It's pity there is very little fics like that. We have different sects/rogue cultivator Wei Wuxian fics (I love them too) but Lan Zhan in this kind of setting is just something else and I am obssessed with the premise. No modern au.

no step had trodden black by Stratisphyre (T, 32k, WangXian, LQR & WWX, JYL/JZX, Canon Divergence, Madam Lan lives, Past Rape, Golden Core Reveal, Hurt/Comfort, References to Attempted Suicide and Suicidal Thoughts, Canon-Typical Violence, [Podfic] Cold read of no step had trodden black by kisahawklin)

My Boy Builds Coffins by enbysaurus_rex (Not Rated, 48k, WangXian, Coffin Maker AU, YLLZ WWX, Location: Yílíng, LWJ builds coffins, Autistic LWJ, falling in love over a coffin, Hurt WWX, Mutual Pining, LWJ Has Feelings, Deathscapes, Death as a bittersweet community thing, accidental ecofiction, Farmer LWJ) Lan Zhan, Lan Xichen, Lan Qiren, and their mother flee to Yiling when the boys are children. Lan Zhan discovers a penchant for coffin making.

~*~

7. I just saw some *exquisite* artwork of bottom lan zhan and 👀 forthe next imtf: cannon bottom lan zhan but no dark romance or anything! I just want bottom lan zhan beung cuddled or soft love with wwx topping. Also, i dont mind but no abo or wip please!(sorreh if its so much!) Thank you in advance^-^ @just-troy0-0

Petrichor by SunBlueSun (E, 8k, WangXian, Top/Bottom Switch WangXian, heat exhaustion, Hurt/Comfort, Comfort Sex, Playing Doctor, Praise Kink, (mild praise kink), mention of past torture, Canon-Typical Violence, h/c meta, Autistic LWJ, Mention of switching, Dirty Talk, Soft WangXian, Cuddling & Snuggling)

Maybe You're the Reason by Clearpearls (E, 67k, wangxian, college/university au, phone sex, secret identity, praise kink, phone sex operator WWX, fluff, light angst, dirty talk, sub LWJ, bottom LWJ, slow burn, aftercare)

Far Away You Are by cqlorphan (E, 17k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Misunderstandings, cleared up by, juniors ensemble, Explicit Consent, Bottom LWJ, but i’m sure they switch about it, Multiple Orgasms, Fluff and Smut, with a little angst. as a treat)

call me home and I’ll build you a throne by anaphoricae (E, 51k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Post-CQL, Canon Compliant, Getting Together, Developing Relationship, Self-Indulgent, Gusu Lan Juniors Dynamics, Touch-Starved, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Sexual Intimacy, Lán Juniors Gossiping about Wangxian, Nightmares, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff, WWX Has a New Golden Core, Farmer WWX, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Mutual Pining, Communication, Quietly Falling Into a Married Life, Light Angst, Wholesome, POV LWJ, POV WWX, LWJ in braids agenda, Sharing a Bed, Semi-Public Sex, Inventor WWX, Jealous WWX)

where the chaos is by darkredloveknot (enheduane) (E, 6k, WangXian, 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) Compliant, Post-Canon Reunions, Love Confessions, First Kiss, First Time, Emotions, WWX is overwhelmed, Domestic Bliss, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Bottom LWJ, Top WWX, Intimacy, Hair Brushing, and more!)

~*~

8. Hi, could you please rec a fic with a WWX powerful like he is in the donghua?? I really dislike weak and frail WWX! Thank you.

Chronicles of Sect Leader Wei Wuxian by Muggle_Diary (E, 115k, WangXian, XuanLi, JFM/YZY, CSSR/WCZ, LXC/LQY, NMJ/QS, WQ/OC, OFC/ OFC, JC/ OFC, Sect Leader WWX, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Different First Meeting, Canon Divergence, Minor Character Death, Anal Sex, Top LWJ/Bottom WWX, Sex Toys, Explicit Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Rough Sex, Child Abuse, Child Death, War Hero WWX, Sunshot Campaign, No Golden Core Transfer, WWX Leaves the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, Cultivation Sect Politics, Wen Remnants Live, Abusive YZY, Abusive Jiang Family, Bad Parents JFM and YZY, JC Bashing, JFM and YZY Bashing, Yunmeng Jiang Sect Bashing, JYL and JZX Live, Jiang Family Bashing)

Watch me ignite it by tawaen (T, 10k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Everyone Lives, Except WRH but he doesn't count, POV LWJ, Cultivation World Critical, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiangs, Sect Leader WWX, BAMF WWX, LWJ is horny for YLLZ WWX and mad about it)

🔒 you soothe me just to torture me again by PrismaticAvocado (M, 4k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Dark WWX, Dark LWJ, Dark LSZ, Dark LXC, Dark LQR, jc is honestly not that much darker than in canon if at all, Murder Husbands, Torture, Homophobia, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, almost everyone is bashed somewhat except for wangxian and a-yuan be warned, JC Bashing, WWX Lives, BAMF WWX)

~*~

9. Are there any fics where lan zhan marries into the jiang clan? Thanksss

use the wood brought in by the tide by Lirazel (M, 27k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Hurt/Comfort, Warning for Physical Abuse, Falling In Love With Your Husband, pining for your husband, Sibling solidarity, dealing with your in-laws, lwj’s typical inner maelstrom of emotions, WWX Whump, Protective!LWJ, lwj&jyl friendship, intimate hair brushing, Skinny Dipping, Growing Up, Establishing boundaries)

~*~

10. hii this is for the itmf!! any post-canon de-aged wwx fics where wwx is de-aged to his teenage years? if post-canon is too specific it doesn’t have to be post-canon

Rewritten by yamadori (Katsumi27) (G, 6k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Age Regression/De-Aging, Emotional Hurt/Comfort) post-canon Wei Wuxian spends time as a teenager while de-aged but also goes through other ages

Glimpses Of The Past by A_simple_Cookie, GoschateWabn (G, 63k, WangXian, WIP, Age Regression/De-Aging, Good Sibling JC, YLLZ WWX, Young WWX, Childhood Memories, Fluff and Angst, Twin Prides of Yunmeng Feels, Twin Prides of Yunmeng Dynamics, LWJ Has a Yiling Laozu Kink, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Humor, Family Bonding, Post-Canon, WWX Needs a Hug, Gremlin WWX, Hijinks & Shenanigans, beware WWX shenanigans inside) post-canon Wei Wuxian spends time as a teenager while de-aged but also goes through other ages

💖🔒Silver & Gold by beeswaxing (E, 162k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Canon Divergence, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Age Regression/De-Aging, Fix-It of Sorts, Post-Canon Fix-It, Family Bonding, Established Relationship, Cuddling & Snuggling, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Literal Sleeping Together, Romance, BAMF WWX, Mutual Pining, Horny Teenagers, Underage Kissing, Protective WWX)

~*~

11. in the mood for nie or jin time travel? @personontheswing

playing the fool by via_the_cryptid (T, 18k, WangXian, BAMF NHS, NHS Knows Everything, Time Travel Fix-It, for nhs at least, NHS-centric, Scheming NHS, Protective NMJ, NMJ Lives, WWX Lives, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Protective LWJ, Protective NHS, JYL and JZX Live, JYL Knows Everything, Canon Divergence, NHS & WWX Friendship, POV NHS)

Third Sun by PhantomWriter (T, 57k, NHS & NMJ, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Crack Treated Seriously, BAMF NHS, Protective NHS, Protective NMJ, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, LWJ is a Wēn)

🔒💖 The Echoes of that News Ring Loud by Scarlet_Gryphon (T, 111k, 3zun, SangNing, XuanLi, WangXian, WQ/Second Madam Mo, Time Travel Fix-it, NMJ Lives, WWX Raised by a Different sect, Based in CQL/Fatal Journey 'Verse, Temporary character death, (but they get better), Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Behavior, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Good Guy XY, Gray-Ace power trio 3Zun, Canon Divergence, brief and non-graphic discussion of past rape/non-con due to QS's origins, Mentions of Nightmares, Minor Character Death, Happy Ending)

Mo XuanYu’s Bewildering Re-Start by MarbleGlove (T, 9k, MXY & WWX, WWX & WQ, WangXian, Suicide Attempt, Unreliable Narrator, because individuals have imperfect knowledge of the world, Time Travel Fix-It)

This Time Around by KouriArashi (T, 83k, JGY & NHS, NHS & WWX, JGY & WWX, Time Travel Fix-It, Kid Fic, Families of Choice, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Politics, Class Issues, Past Child Abuse, Moral Ambiguity, Everybody Lives, Eventual Happy Ending)

with best intentions by dandelion_weed (T, 22k, NMJ/WWX, WangXian, Time Travel, Canon Divergence, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Arranged Marriage, Everyone is an unreliable narrator, the terrible affair of falling in love with your betrothed, Eventual love triangle, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Engagement)

🔒 无别无离 | Without Farewells, Without Parting by dragongirlG (M, 30k, Junior Quartet, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Fix-It of Sorts, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, POV Alternating, Jin Ling’s Hundredth Day Celebration, qiongqi path, Family Feels, Hopeful Ending)

With you, I can fight the World by Weiyingbestboy (G, 2k, WangXian, JYL/JZX, JC & WWX & JYL, JZX & WWX, Everyone Lives, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, JC is so done, JZX and WWX Friendship)

Time, Time, Time by skeletonofaplant (G, 44k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, LSZ & WWX, JYL & JL & JZX, LJY & LSZ, Time Travel Fix-It, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Identity Porn, Identity Reveal, Angst, Fluff, Junior Quartet Dynamics, Time Travelling Junior Ensemble, Junior Ensemble Shenanigans, Humor)

The Threads of Fate by WaitForTheSnitch (E, 190k, WIP, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, Good Uncle LQR, Protective LWJ, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Pining LWJ, WWX in WWX’s Body, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Oblivious WWX, Siblings JC & WWX, Supportive JYL, Protective NHS, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Comic Book Science)

Nie Huaisang's Ten Steps to Fix The Fucked Up Reality by cosmic_zephyr (astralcelestia) (T, 62k, WangXian, JC & WWX & JYL, NHS & NMJ, NHS & WWX, WWX & WN, WWX & WQ, WIP, Canon Divergence, Scheming, Time Travel Fix-It, Not Everyone Dies, BAMF WWX, BAMF WQ, BAMF NHS, BAMF LWJ, Wangxian are something but no one knows what yet, A lot of character bashing, Some gets redemption, WQ suddenly has FOUR brothers and TWO sisters, Manipulation, Spanish Translation, Nothing goes according to his plan, but are we surprised, like look at this partners, it was bound to be a mess#)

In My Defence, I Have None (For Never Leaving Well Enough Alone) by SemiLocalCryptid (T, 73k, WangXian, WIP, Time Travel Fix-It, Established Relationship, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, POV NHS, but only for the first chapter, POV Alternating, between Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi for the rest, WWX may have no sense of self preservation but he does have a husband, No one touches LWJ’s husband, NHS has no more fucks to give and will save his brother just watch him, WN is very confused about needing to breathe again, but is ultimately happy about it, BAMF WN, WN needs a hug, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, WQ is a queen and everyone should fear her, Fluff, Inventor WWX, Gratuitous amounts of Wangxian fluff)

In Defence of Murder by WhiteWitchDark (T, 18k, WangXian, NHS & NMJ, Hurt/Comfort, Time Travel, Angst)

And They Lived Happily Ever After… by Morgana_avalon (G, 51k, WangXian, JL/LSZ, JC/WQ, JYL/JZX, JC & WWX, A-Yuan living with his family at the Burial Mounds, Time Travel Fix-It, JL gets his happy ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Taking care of WWX; LJY grows an attitude, set before the ambush happens at Qiongqi Path, Canon Divergence, Bunnies, LWJ will always protect WWX, Good brother JC, Good JZX, LWJ can heal WWX's injuries as it is AU, WWX is pardonned, Wen Survivors are offered a way out)

~*~

12. Hiii I'm back <3 I recently read 'reports of my heterosexuality may have been exaggerated' by sysrae and it's so got me itmf anything with lwj assuming he's straight or ace, then encountering wwx and having to go home and 'google am I gay' 'google how to tell if gay' 'google straight or gay quiz.' It's always Straight Boy Wei Ying but I'm itmf Straight Boy Lan Zhan <3 @peebls

🔒 The Second Jade of Lan’s late but incendiary sexual awakening by KizuKatana (E, 41k, wangxian, First Time, LWJ’s Horny Grip,LWJ does not know what hit him, and yet somehow he still realizes it before WWX, canon wangxian dynamics, college AU, LWJ starts off annoyed at WWXBut quickly discovers both his competency kink and a caretaking kink, Genius WWX) I don’t think Lan Wangji does a Google search or takes any quizzes in these but he definitely experiences a gay awakening in them.

🔒 Hide Away by sassybluee (E, 19k, WangXian, Modern AU, Modern: No Powers, Compulsory Heterosexuality, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, straight boy WWX, straight boy LWJ, everyone’s convinced they’re straight tbh, LWJ FUCKS, WWX fucks, referenced but not shown for both of those, Reality TV, Love Island, Slow Burn, Getting Together, Drunk kiss, Shower Sex, Ambiguous/Open Ending, POV Alternating)

🔒 I might be what you're looking for by KizuKatana (E, 18k, WangXian, Canon Divergent, Modern Cutivation, BAMF LWJ, BAMF WWX, LWJ is nearly immortal, sexual awakening for LWJ, LWJ has a BIG... golden core, LWJ also has a big dick, Acts-like-a-twink-but-is-actually-exceedingly-dangerous WWX, marathon fucking, Qi fucking, First Time, after killing a powerful demon WWX is not quite human anymore, and LWJ is Into That)

~*~

13. Itmf wangxian fics that have similar vibes/plot to modern c-dramas? Especially any type that has to do with some sort of revenge or secret identity

we’ll get him falling for a stranger (or a catfish) by sweetlolixo (T, 38k, WangXian, Modern AU, College AU, Catfish AU, Eventual Happy Ending, Crossdressing WWX, Rich heir LWJ gets catfished by pretty WWX online that’s it that’s the fic, Pining LWJ, Fluff, Humor, lwj is a grade A+ SIMP, Identity Porn)

Crazy, Rich Cultivators by ShanaStoryteller (Not rated, 13k, WangXian, Modern Cultivation, Idiots in Love, Misunderstandings, POV LWJ, īthis started as a crazy rich asians au but quickly got away from me, light moments of angst but mostly shenanigans)

silhouettes to steal this night by moonsteps (T, 51k, WangXian, Modern, Assassins & Hitmen, Roommates, Rivals to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Identity Porn, Violence, Blood and Injury, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Secret Identity)

~*~

14. Thanks for the hard work you do for our Fandom ❤️❤️ . I have an itmf request. Fics where Xichen alone or with Jiang Cheng time travels to the past and does something good for their brothers. Plz a complete fic and preferably a bigger one (not a oneshot)

🔒 Alternative Choices by StarClearWaters (Readoutloud) (T, 20k, WangXian, LXC/WQ, Time Travel, LXC pov, Protective LXC, Temporary Character Death, Butterfly Effect, Mpreg, Panic Attacks) However, the changes Lan Xichen makes are done to protect Lan Zhan from Wei Ying, at least at first.

🔒💖 The blame game by apathyinreverie (T, 13k, WangXian, LXC & LWJ, LSZ & WWX, WWX & WQ, LXC & WWX, Fix-It, Time Travel, LXC time travels, Canon Divergence, Possessive LWJ, Oblivious WWX, Fluff, Siblings, Romance, Golden Core Reveal Golden Core Fix-It, crack-y idea taking itself far too seriously) I can only think of the blame game for 14, which is unfortunately a one shot

~*~

15. Any fics where teenji makes teenxian cry and PANICS ?

~*~

16. Hi, love that you guys are still doing the good work for the WangXian fans. I've read through your fic compilations for WangXian crossovers that were not including SVSSS, TGCF, WOH, Guardian and everything on it. Since it's been a while, are there any new crossover fics for WangXian that fulfil the criteria above?

as the tree, so the fruit by jalpari (T, 11k, WangXian, Ji Chong (The Wolf TV)/Xie Yun (Bandits), Crossover Pairings, Married WangXian Have Children, AU where LWJ and WWX have a son and his name is Xie Yun, They say you date someone like your parent, The question is which one)

🔒 by the grace of the fire and the flames by ShippersList (M, 56k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Pacific Rim Fusion, Canon Era, Kaiju, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Permanent Injury, Not Everyone Dies, Golden Core Reveal, Genius WWX, Dual Cultivation, Drift Compatibility, Saving the World, POV LWJ, Protective LWJ, Cultivation Sect Politics, BAMF WWX, Yunmeng Siblings Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, WWX Has a New Golden Core)

Don't bore us, take it to the chorus. by Marzennya (E, 41k, WangXian, WWX/Everyone, WWX & WQ, JC & WWX, JYL & WWX, WQ/JC, The Bachelorette Fusion, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Crack, Comedy of Errors, Possessive LWJ, Attractive WWX, Canon Divergence, Pining WangXian, Good Sibling JC, Protective JC, Awesome WQ, WWX in WWX's Body, Dry Orgasm, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Inappropriate Use of Gusu Lan Forehead Ribbon, LWJ and WWX Have a Breeding Kink, Genderplay, Nepali WWX, we fuckin a golden core back in babeyy, Slightly Calamitous Beauty WWX, Marriage Competition)

Hear This Song and Remember by TentativeTreason (G, 7k, WangXian, WWX & Junior ensemble, Amnesiac WWX, Inspired by Anastasia (1997 & Broadway), Anastasia (1997 & Broadway) Fusion, WWX is Anastasia, Post-Canon, Junior Quartet Dynamics, LWJ Loves WWX, Pining LWJ, Good Sibling LXC, Idiots in Love, WWX Has Memory Issues)

kindred spirits by Lady_of_the_Spirit (G, 1k, Alicent Hightower & JGY, Crossover, Borderline crack, tired alicent hightower, Tired JGY, deliberately somewhat ooc so these two can have a venting session)

Previously, on LEGO Masters by trippednfell (M, 55k, wangxian, Reality TV Show Contestants/Judges, Modern, Mutual Pining, Forced to compete together, strangers to reality show contestants to lovers, there’s only one bed, Platonic Cuddling, Autistic LWJ, WWX Has ADHD, Grief/Mourning, Wangxian miss their moms, so much pining, More Pining than LEGO in this LEGO fic, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note, POV Alternating, Lego Masters AU, Not YZY friendly, Dysfunctional Jiang family dynamics)

radical acceptance by Theolyss (Not Rated, 4k, A-Qing/OC, SL/XXC/XY, Addams Family Fusion, Meeting the Family, the family is messed up, No Lesbians Die)

The Dawn of Our Lives by Catherine_Watson (T, 2k, JC/Pian Ran, Romance, Drama, Xianxia, Crossover)

🔒 the moon is still the same by mattygroves (T, 3k, WangXian, James T. Kirk/Spock, CSSR/WCZ, Reincarnation, but hand-wavy, Getting Together, ancient ritual space, Star Trek Fusion, i'm picturing the strange new worlds enterprise, because WQ deserves the fancy med bay)

The Trouble With Trills by DizziDreams (E, 18k, WangXian, WIP, Star Trek Fusion, Deep Space Nine, whistleblowing, Identity Issues, lots of identity fuckery related to trill symbionts, this one might hurt a little, Character Death, Eventual Smut, Memory Loss, no star trek knowledge necessary, but some extra fun for those who do know it)

Waiting for you, here is my soul by Anonymous (T, 9k, WIP, LWJ & Gūsū Lán Disciple(s), WangXian, LXC/JGY, LXC & LWJ, LSZ & WWX & LWJ, Reincarnation, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Past Jason Grace/Piper McLean, Jason Grace Lives, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Kid Fic, Gods & Goddesses, Rick Riordan Demigod Universe | Riordanverse, The Burning Maze (Trials of Apollo) Spoilers)

Your Spike, With love by meowingmoons (T, 12k, JC/LXC, Modern, Crossover, Volleyballsetter JC, middle blocker LXC, captain LXC, KuroKen, JC as Kenma, LXC as Kuroo, Volleyball Dorks in Love, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Childhood Friends, Haikyuu Crossover, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, LXC is So Whipped, Sports)

~*~

17. Hello, could you recommend fics where WY became disabled in modern world and was abandoned by Jiangs because he is no longer useful (e.g. no walking, serious permanent injury that requires constant care) and maybe no close relationship with wens. Just lz meets wy

Thank you!

🔒 Step by step by apathyinreverie (T, 12k, WangXian, LXC & LWJ, WWX & LSZ & LWJ, WWX & WQ, JFM and YZY Bashing, not particularly Jiang family friendly, Guilt, Fluff, past angst, Flashbacks, Protective LWJ, Soft WWX, adorable a-yuan, Friendship, Family, Getting Together, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, basically organ donation as the modern day equivalent of the core transfer, and wwx not having entirely recovered, Modern, Domestic WangXian, Domestic Fluff)

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[allwaswell16]

F a v o r i t e F i c s O f 2 0 2 4

As an ardent reader of One Direction fan fiction, 2024 has been an amazing year for fics! I read so many incredible fics this year, so please check out all my recs for the year here! Below you will find fics that brought me to tears, made me laugh, comforted me, filled me with joy, or had me yelling in my living room. I share this list with you all not to say that these fics are better than others from this year, but to say thank you to these writers who have left a mark on me with their fics.

To all our fandom's writers, thank you for the gift of your stories! Sending much love to you in the new year!

🪩 Louis / Harry 🪩

with venom on your tongue by wildestdreams / @thelavendrhaze

(E, 91k, enemies to lovers) a boarding school AU where Harry and Louis are academic rivals until they realize they’re more similar than they thought.

don't be afraid to love (and love again) by localopa / @voulezloux

(T, 83k, trans Louis) the one where louis is trans and afraid, harry is cis and brave, and being 100% yourself is easier said than done.

When the Lights Go Out by thelarenttrap / @antidotetogo

(E, 79k, F1 au) In its near eighty years of existence, Formula 1 has never had an out gay driver. In 2017, Harry Styles signs a contract with Scuderia AlphaTauri alongside his childhood friend and competitor, Louis Tomlinson. The next decade of their careers is some of the most tumultuous press--on and off the track--Formula 1 has ever seen.

I'm Praying (that you don't burn out or fade away) by @lululawrence

(NR, 74k, soulmates) Harry and Louis are literal stars who have known they were soulmates from their creation eons ago, however when Louis came to Earth to start the next phase of their fated future, he forgot everything. Even Harry.

A Frail Farewell by Rearviewdreamer / @all-these-larrythings

(M, 44k, famous/not famous) Louis can’t believe his luck when he is offered one of the easiest jobs he has had as a long-term house-sitter for the wealthy. Most of all he likes that there are no surprises until he gets the shock of his life from ex-pop star Harry Styles who isn’t supposed to be home.

The Things We Know To Be Wild by harryanthus_annuus / @harryanthus-annuus

(M, 39k, dragons) Louis is a London zoologist sent by the University of Highlands and Islands to assess the safety of the island of Eroda as part of the Wonder Seekers Project for sustainable tourism.

hard times in elmsmere by stylinsoncity / @aliensingucci

(M, 37k, time travel) for louis, being a full-fledged vampire complicates everything, not just his relationship with harry but with harry’s entire coven who took Louis in as an orphan.

Enough To Wish For More by galactic_larry / @galacticlarry

(M, 33k, The Bridges of Madison County au) Louis Tomlinson just wants a few days of peace and quiet while his family are out of state. But when he meets the lead singer of a band he’s never heard of, his life and everything he thought he knew about it changes forever.

Your Reign is Free (to give along to Santa) by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(T, 28k, humor) It’s Christmas Eve. It’s a totally normal Christmas Eve. Harry and Louis have some friends coming by, and some totally normal birthday and Christmas plans. It’s a totally typical totally normal Christmas Eve. A fic that takes place over 24 (+1) hours where surely everything will go totally to plan.

and so I have to say (before I go) by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

(M, 27k, mystery) Sometimes falling in love is taking a leap of faith, jumping into the unknown with your eyes closed, hoping someone will be there to catch you. Sometimes falling in love is seeing the person in front of you, all their flaws and imperfections, and taking that leap nonetheless.

Rewriting the Melody by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

(T, 26k, canon divergence) Louis doesn’t get put in One Direction. This time, the path to true love takes the long way round, including singing in toilet cubicles, fruit baskets, and long distance band counselling from someone who really doesn’t know what he’s doing, he just wants to keep talking to Harry.

Sugar, Sugar by @parmahamlarrie

(E, 25k, sugar daddy Louis) Meeting your soulmate was the most joyous event of one’s life… or at least, it’s supposed to be. Harry, in all of his 25 year old wisdom, was suspicious of the role fate plays in everyone's lives. He'd rather focus his time dating older men he meets off of a sugar baby website.

Room For One More Troubled Soul by patdkitten / @babyarcanacasey

(M, 25k, supernatural elements) Louis Tomlinson is the chief medical examiner of the Centre for the Law Enforcement of Supernatural Beings - more commonly referred to as simply "The Centre".

On a starlit night by @lunarheslwt

(M, 24k, omegaverse) omega and future Luna Louis is holding a mating ceremony to find his mate, but what he doesn’t expect to see amongst the alphas vying for his hand, is a familiar, yet unexpected face: Harry Styles.

Colorful Hearts by Larrysmomfics / @larrysmomfics

(M, 20k, humor) In a world where orgasmic emissions change color depending on the person’s mood, Louis Tomlinson’s semen has only ever been blue. At the recommendation of his doctor he attends a support group for people with similar conditions. 

 Behind Smoke Stained Curtains by @jaerie

(E, 19k, omegaverse) The worlds align when Louis meets an alpha from the road with as many secrets as he holds himself.

Stand on Holy Ground (series) by @wishingforloushair

(E, 17k, religion kink) Louis comes back to confess again, and Harry has an idea of how Louis can show God his devotion. 

Peeping by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom

(E, 16k, roommates) Louis has a thing for his housemate, Harry is under the impression that clothing around the house is an optional extra, and neither of them seem to be able to stop wanking long enough to get their shit together and admit their true feelings.

Lost But Won by @2tiedships2

(NR, 16k, omegaverse) When Harry loses his passport after a weekend trip to see Niall, the inconvenience of being stranded in America becomes a little more bearable after meeting Louis. Or a lot more bearable.

At your service, for your usage (series) by @holdingontochaos

(E, 16k, sex work) Louis is a doctor who works so much that he has barely any time to himself for pleasure, let alone to clean his house so he hires Harry as his naked maid and kills two birds with one stone.

so pull me closer, why don’t you pull me close? by @alwaysxlarrie

(M, 9k, uni) If the captain of the soccer team wants to substitute players and be Harry's partner instead... well, Harry's lemons just turned into lemon meringue pie. Who is he to argue with fate?

 and then, i wait there for you by punk_pillow_princess / @punkpillowprincess

(M, 9k, established relationship) Harry has always dreamed of having his “happily ever after”, but hasn’t found the right one yet. Suddenly, he meets Louis.

never just the tip by journeytothepast / @suckerforhome

(E, 6k, omegaverse) Harry believes alphas can't control themselves. Louis proves him wrong.

Just Two Stars Passing By by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird

(E, 5k, omegaverse) Harry blew up on TikTok and became a fashion commentator during the pandemic. Somehow he ends up covering arrival fashion for the 2024 Euros, and somehow Louis Tomlinson already knows his name.

Good-Old Fashioned Lover Boy by not_fitzwilliam / @not-fitzwilliam-darcy

(NR, 5k, omegaverse) When a miscalculated decision leads to an accidental courtship with the sweetest, most gentle alpha, Harry is torn between breaking the alpha's heart and telling the truth. 

Pretty and Preposterous by @brightlyharry

(NR, 5k, neighbors) Harry donates a copy of Pride and Prejudice to his little free library. He never expects what comes next.

 Pussy Juice by @homosociallyyours

(M, 4k, girl direction) While she manages to dodge the bar’s “special” drink, the Pussy Juice shot, she can’t avoid the feelings that come up when her former teacher (and teen crush), Louis joins her and her friends for the night.

 That’s the way love goes by bella28

(T, 4k, soulmate goose!) In a world, where soulmate geese are sent to the people who can’t figure out who their soulmate is, Harry finds himself stuck with a goose when he is attending a concert of his favourite artist Louis Tomlinson.

Come On and Rescue Me by @kingsofeverything

(E, 3k, silver fox Louis) Louis only intends to watch his hot neighbor’s Instagram live, but he winds up with his hand down his pants.

Figure This Out by @haztobegood

(E, 2k, age difference) Louis is everything Harry could have imagined when he’d typed “silver fox enthusiast” into his Grindr profile. Too bad he's probably scared Louis off by giving him too many expensive gifts.

coming home by @seekforwarmth

(E, 2k, canon) It’s coming home, one way or another.

What’s in a Name by @hellolovers13

(T, 2k, soulmates au) Louis had always known Harry was his soulmate. The name on his arm disagreed. But what did his soulmark know about true love anyway.

 You are so gorgeous (it makes me so mad) by @dreaminrainbows

(M, 2k, pining) Louis is a hot bartender and Harry is pathetically in love with him

The Unselected Journals of Louis W. Tomlinson - Vol 1 by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf

(E, 1k, epistolary) The Wandering of Things was not new, nearly two years into living here. However, the, uh, nature of this particular thing was quite different.

skinny dip (in water under the bridge) by hazzahtomlinson / @itsnotreal

(G, 880 words, exes) It’s a Wednesday and nostalgia might just get the best of Louis.

can't hide from yourself by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright

(M, 666 words, suspense) Harry's home alone, faced with his reflection. And something's not quite right.

🪩 Rare Pairs 🪩

Like A Force Of Nature by @reminiscingintherain

(T, 30k, Zayn/Liam) the Heartstopper AU no one asked for.

To start again by @loretheloner

(E, 27k, Louis/Michael Blackwell) Louis finds himself slowly falling for a bandmate again, despite Oli's warnings against it. Michael finds himself slowly falling for his boss and fighting against the ghost of Louis' past relationship. 

It’s a Craving Not a Crush by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28

(E, 9k, Liam/Louis) the one where Liam and Louis are best bros who end up getting married so that Liam has the insurance he needs to go to rehab. Now that he’s sober, they can get divorced. But do they want to?

Can You Feel Where the Wind Is by @fallinglikethis

(M, 3k, Zayn/Liam) He remembers arguing that he had no real power over anything, so no one would care about him, let alone try to hurt him. But that assessment had proven to be untrue today.

I regret you all the time by @disgruntledkittenface

(E, 2k, Louis/Prince William) Louis’ friends don’t understand, and they wouldn’t even if he explained. But every time William texts, Louis drops everything to go see him.

Skin on My Skin by Layne Faire / @laynefaire

(E, 2k, Zayn/Liam) Let me touch you where you like it Let me do it for ya

[snowfieldstories]

In Life and Death Masterlist

<< m.list home

(GIF made by the kind and talented @lnaax-originals !)

Kim Dokja x Reader/Original Character

Summary:

In which a reader finds herself tossed into the pages of her favorite web novel after her untimely death. A novel of a novel within reality. It's a reader's dream, right? Well, this reader vows to bring the right epilogue to her beloved character, Kim Dokja. She will give him the happiest of endings. Or she will die trying. ...Good thing death isn't always permanent in this new world.

Read the polished version on AO3! [Note: chapters are ahead by 4 on ao3 with different titling]

Tags: isekai + transmigration, fix-it, AU canon-divergence, inaccurate religion and lore, moral ambiguity, friends to lovers, slow burn (?), angst, fluff + humor Warnings: strong violence, sexual content, and language. Brief suicidal thoughts (Chapter -2). Implied/ref sexual assault. This work is Mature (18+)

A/N: This is going to be a long one! Two chapters of prologue (-2 and -1) and a friends to lovers romance starting from 1. It's essentially an indulgent, self or reader-insert, but I don't like using "y/n" so her/your name is Choi Yeona. Please mind the warnings

⚠️MAJOR SPOILERS FOR ORV WEB NOVEL AND MANHWA!!!!⚠️

⋆⋆⋆

Table of Contents

Ep I. Beginnings : [-2] [-1]

Ep II. Interlude : [0]

Ep III. A Ruined World—Round Two : [1] [2] [3]

Ep IV. Motion Picture Soundtrack : [4] [5]

Ep. V. Reapers and Revelations : [6] [7] [x] [8] [9]

Ep. VI. Gone Fishing : [10] [11]

Ep. VII. A Kingless World : [12] [13] [14] [15] [x]

Ep. VIII. Flood of Flames : [16] [17] [18]

Ep. IX.

...

Bonus

⟡ fic playlist

⟡ character description

⟡ kdj fanart by @devdozes

⟡ their brand of idiocy (+poll)

Inspired by fics

⟡ My moment in time by @azaleasbloom [HSY x OC]

[namorweek]

NAMOR WEEK 2025

Welcome to the the 6th Annual Namor Week, a fandom event dedicated to our favorite Undersea Anti-Hero! We welcome all new & old fans to the event and hope you can join in this year’s Namor Week on April 24 - 30! Themes this year are bit different, and we welcome any kind of interpretation from fans! Please read rules and have fun!

Themes

Day 1 - Swimmin' with Sharks Namor + Jeff | Court Intrigue | The Talokan Throne Day 2 - All the Tales the same, Told before and told again Sunlight | The Depths | Flight | Caught between two worlds Day 3 - Swallowed by a Vicious, Vengeful Sea Hubris is a Bitch | Arrogance | Drowning | Avenging Son Day 4 - So much has changed, but I'm the same Alternate Universe | What if...? Day 5 - I've got Soul but I'm not a Soldier Invaders | Memory | War | PTSD Day 6 - My Heart bends and breaks so many, many times Romance | Loss | Heartbreak | Hopeful Beginnings Day 7 - Creator's Choice

The Rules

No sign ups, no checks, just create whatever you feel like creating! Choose one or all of the prompts. Please read and follow all rules to be a part of this event. Types of fanworks accepted: Fanfiction, Fanart, Podcasts, Edits, Playlists, Podfics, Fanvids, Aesthetics, Gifs, etc. you may commission work to be submitted but it must be created for this event, so no reposting an older work for this.

All work must be submitted on the day of the prompt, late works will be accepted up until end of the week. You may add your works to the Namor Week Collection on Ao3 if you wish.  Collection opens on day 1

All Fan Works must be original works created or commissioned for this event and it must focus on Namor or any of his supporting characters in the Talokan or Atlantis universes, examples but not limited to; Lady Dorma, Namora, Attuma, Fen, and more! Choose from any Marvel Media, including the MCU, Comics, Games, Animation, etc. but it must be a canon character and the work may not use Namor or his supporting characters as background for other non Sub-Mariner characters or fandoms. 

Fanworks must be tagged with #namorweek in the first five tags or tag  @namorweek so that it can be featured on this blog by end of day, and unless otherwise stated then fanworks may be linked/cross posted to the Namor Week twitter or Bluesky with credit. If you wish to participate on either of those sites and post there then simply @ the namorweek account there! All works will be rounded up in a master list. We now have a Bluesky account!

Tag appropriately! If you have heavy themes, tag what your work contains!

Any fanwork*, ship, canon, canon divergent, or non-canon, romantic or platonic, welcome. However this is a character(s) week so please remember to keep focus on Namor, Atlanteans, Talokanil. *see banned content

Ship and let Ship & Don’t like? Don’t Read is in full force. 

Banned

Racism, hate work (fanwork created to bash on characters), and other forms of hate are not tolerated or accepted. Including Anti Ship or Shipping Wars. Don’t create something just to be a jerk to other fans or shippers. 

Pedo/Incest works are not accepted.

NamorSue, ReedSueNamor, Namor/Susan in a romantic ship are not accepted. (Platonic Namor & Susan Storm is accepted.)

Namor x Reader, x Reader, Character x Reader, all works with x Reader or Character Imagines are not accepted. 

Anything created by AI art or chat generators is banned.

Good Luck with creating and see you in April & if you have any questions please send an Ask! 

[bellaxgiornata]

Want to Know You Better 1:|Bad Impressions

Pairing: Jax Teller x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4.3k [Series Masterlist] [Jax Teller Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; investigative journalist!Reader, bodyguard!Jax, enemies to lovers, canon typical violence, canon divergence, eventual smut, slow burn, angst

summary: For over a year you had been tracking Aleksander Petrova through California–a Russian crime lord known to abduct sex workers for his trafficking ring. Seven months ago, he disappeared from the L.A. area, but a series of missing women in Northern California catches your attention, drawing you to Charming in the hopes of linking enough evidence together to once again get the FBI involved. But when the Sons’ President makes a terrible first impression before inserting himself into your work, your investigation turns into more than you anticipated.

a/n: I couldn't resist an enemies to lovers fic with Jax also determined to stubbornly be Readers' self-appointed bodyguard. I'm very much in the Jax mindset lately... Feedback and reblogs are appreciated!

tag list: @kmc1989

“Well, it has been a bit, man,” Happy agreed with Opie.

Jax took a pull off of his beer as the table of Sons around him broke into a fit of laughter at his expense. The thunderous noise of their amusement drowned out the classic rock playing in the bar they’d settled at tonight. For once they found themselves drinking somewhere other than at the clubhouse. Tonight, they were at The Alley, a dive bar in downtown Charming. Having just finished a meeting here with Marks, they had all collectively decided to stay and enjoy a few more rounds before heading back.

Jax rolled his eyes at the Sons’ teasing, not exactly taking their bullshit personally. They’d had a rough past few weeks and were just trying to unwind for the night. He knew that.

“Got nothin’ to say in your defense, Jackie boy?” Chibs asked, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Ya suddenly gone celibate?”

Swallowing down his beer, Jax shrugged as he lowered the bottle back to the table. A smug grin drew itself over his lips before he answered. “What can I say? I’ve just been busy,” he told the guys. “Pussy hasn’t exactly been top priority on my mind lately.”

A round of disbelief flew from around the table next, the noise only causing Jax’s grin to grow wider. It was true, though. He really hadn’t been concerning himself with getting laid over the past few weeks, too focused and stressed over club business to have even thought about it. He honestly had been so caught up in everything that he hadn’t even realized how long it had been since he’d last taken a girl to his bed.

“Maybe you’re losing your touch,” Bobby joked.

“Or you’re just going soft on us, Pres,” Tig quipped. 

One of Jax’s brows arched up onto his forehead at that comment. Going soft? Now that was absolute bullshit. 

“Don’t be a jackass,” Jax replied. “I’m not losing nothing, and I sure as shit have not gone soft, Tig.”

A glint of mischief surfaced in Tig’s eyes at Jax’s response. He leaned forward, resting his elbows along the table as a teasing grin slipped onto his face. “Oh no?” he questioned. “You haven’t? You…willing to make a bet on that, Jax?”

Jax settled back in his chair, his hands folding in front of himself as he studied the man. The entire table of Sons had fallen silent at Tig’s question, intrigue hanging thick between them all. Jax never backed down from a challenge, they all knew that. 

“Yeah,” Jax answered easily. “I am. What do you have in mind, Tig?”

“Oh, shit,” Opie muttered with a chuckle, running a hand through his beard.

“Now this is getting good,” Chibs added, gesturing his beer at Tig. “Let’s hear it, brother.”

Tig straightened in his chair, his focus remaining fixed on Jax across the table from him. That mischievous glint in his eye hadn’t yet faded.

“Alright then, Jax. You wanna prove you haven’t gone soft on us? I bet you to get a girl from this bar onto the back of your bike and show her a good time in your bed before we’re finished here tonight,” Tig challenged. “And I’m clarifying that it’s gotta be a broad of our choosing, not yours. No easy pickings.”

A chorus of ‘ooh’ and ‘oh shit’ was muttered around the table as all of the Sons’ eyes darted between Jax and Tig as the bet was laid out. Jax didn’t look remotely fazed by it, though. Instead, he easily drew his beer up to his lips, finishing the last of it before he set the bottle back down on the table.

“You’re on,” Jax replied, a confident grin tugging at his lips. “I guarantee I can get any girl in here on my bike in fifteen minutes or less easily.” He jutted his chin at Tig before he continued, that cocky tone of his growing. “What do I get when I win?”

Tig took a moment, as if he was thinking about the answer, mulling it over for a minute. “Give you three hundred bucks,” he finally answered. “Plus, you get laid. But–” he held up a finger, that glint in his eyes still lingering, “–if you lose, we collectively get to think of some form of embarrassing punishment for you.”

That gave Jax pause for a moment, one hand running through the scruff along his chin. Not that he remotely doubted his ability to get a girl in his bed by any means, but the possibility that they might pick some chick that he somehow would not be able to charm didn’t sit well with him. Because he could only imagine what embarrassing ‘punishment’ the guys would love to force on him.

“You’re hesitating, Jax,” Bobby pointed out.

With a roll of his eyes, Jax sat forward in his chair. “Of course I’m in,” he accepted without another thought, the confidence returning. “This is going to be stupid easy anyway.”

“Aye, well,” Chibs said, shaking his head at his President. “Don’t forget, Jackie, the girls here are normal broads. Not the kind at the clubhouse. Or Diosa or the porn studio.”

Opie shook with silent laughter on the other side of Jax, one of his hands reaching out to lightly nudge his best friend. “That’s right,” he agreed. “These girls aren’t pre-warmed and ready for your advances, brother.”

“Doesn’t fucking matter,” Jax replied, waving the comment off. “Who the hell would say no to some time with this face?”

Another round of raucous laughter erupted from the table and Jax grinned wider at the sound. He had no doubt that he’d find a way to charm any woman the guys ultimately picked. Didn’t matter if she wasn’t a croweater, he’d find a way. He knew he was attractive and he had the confidence to go with it. He’d make it happen. There was no way in hell he’d lose the bet.

“Great,” Tig said, clapping his hands together before he turned away from the table. “Now to find a suspect.”

For a few minutes, Jax sat at the table as the Sons all began surveying the bar in search of a target for this bet. He listened as the men pointed out a few different options, hearing comments like ‘no, looks too willing’ or ‘doesn’t look remotely challenging enough’. He chuckled to himself, watching as all of his men kept talking amongst themselves until Tig eventually caught everyone’s attention.

“That one!” he exclaimed, gesturing a finger across the bar. “The one at the end of the bar there. Hunched over her phone. Didn’t even notice her at first.”

Jax shifted in his seat, trying to get a look at where all of the men were now focused. In the far corner of the room, almost too easy to miss, was indeed a woman hunched over her phone. She looked like she was concentrating on something, and judging by the way she was dressed, she wasn’t trying to capture the attention of anyone in the bar tonight. Jax was immediately thankful that he didn’t find her unattractive, either. If anything, he found himself pleased this was the woman they’d picked for the bet. He wouldn't mind her in his bed for a couple of hours tonight.

“She looks more like she’d slap Jax for approaching rather than sleep with him,” Bobby said with a laugh. 

Tig shot a look over his shoulder at Bobby, a wicked grin on his face as he nodded his head in agreement. “I know, right? She’s perfect.”

“If anything,” Jax cut in, glancing back over at the woman, “she looks like she’d be thanking me for giving her a little stress relief. She looks a little too tightly wound.”

The table of Sons all returned their attention to Jax now, curious expressions adorning their faces. They were waiting to see if he would keep his word now that a woman had been chosen for the bet.

“Still think you got it in you to charm a girl like that?” Opie asked.

“Yeah, Jax,” Tig goaded. “You gonna call off the bet or what?”

“Fuck off,” Jax said as he rose from his chair, lightly slapping a hand onto the table. “No goddamn way I'm turning the bet down–or losing it. Let me show you boys how it’s done. I’ll have her on my bike and screaming my name in no time.”

Another round of laughter came from around the table, a few of the men wishing Jax good luck. Opie gave him a pat on the back as Jax walked away from the group, his gaze fixed on the unsuspecting woman at the far end of the bar.

This was going to be fun.

The dive bar you’d found yourself in for the evening smelled like mold and sweat–not unlike the shitty motel room you’d checked yourself into earlier today. And yet somehow it had still been rated the best of all the shitty motels in Charming. 

Today had been long. You'd had a bit of a drive out to the small town of Charming from Red Ridge this morning–the city in which you lived just a little outside of San Francisco where your prestigious paper, the San Francisco Sun Times, was located. After briefly unpacking a few of your things in the motel you’d unfortunately have to call home for a bit, you'd hit the road again and began your investigation around the surrounding area.

Aleksander Petrova was your great white whale. You’d been chasing him for well over a year now, and you’d almost led the FBI straight to him seven months ago, but some sort of information leak had given the bastard a chance to disappear into thin air before they’d had an opportunity for an arrest. He’d been right there operating just outside of Los Angeles for months and you’d been linking missing woman after missing woman together, discovering a pattern in which he’d targeted female sex workers specifically. Whether his men abducted them from the street, underground brothels, or strip clubs, you’d grown familiar with how he targeted them. But then his ass had disappeared into the wind. 

Until recently.

Which was why you’d landed yourself in Northern California now. You had caught the familiar pattern in the unreported missing women cases in the area that had been occurring for the past few months. You were positive it was Petrova. But due to his reach and wealth, and the fact that most of society didn’t bat an eye at a missing prostitute, no one had looked into the cases. It didn’t help that Petrova had plenty of law enforcement in his back pocket, making it easy for officers to turn a blind eye to what was actually going on throughout the state.

But not you.  

Huddled over the counter of the bar in the dim lighting, you were focused on typing up an email to your editor on your phone. Gary had technically wanted you to check in with him once you’d gotten settled in Charming earlier this morning, but having been unable to resist getting started on your investigation after finally catching a lead, you admittedly had forgotten all about shooting him an email. You hoped the added bit of information about what you’d started working on today would ease the angry scolding you were sure to receive later.

As you typed, absently sipping on the piss beer you'd ordered a while ago–the one that was only half-finished and growing warm–you eventually felt a presence sidle up near you at the bar. Still focused on your work email, you paid the person no mind as your fingers swiftly flew over the keyboard of your phone. But when you noticed them lean against the counter near you from your peripheral, you had a feeling your quiet evening trying to unwind and focus your thoughts was about to be interrupted.

“Hey there, darlin’,” a deep, smooth voice came from beside you. “You're not from around here, are you?”

Without even glancing up, fingers still flying across the keys of your phone, you tensed at the man's clearly obvious intent. You had important work to focus on, you weren't interested in getting hit on by some random guy in a small town.

“No thank you,” you simply replied, not bothering to look at him. 

An amused chuckle met your response, the sound only further irritating you. So this guy wasn't going to give up easily. Fantastic.

“Maybe you should put the phone down, sweetheart,” the voice tried again. “You're missing out on what's going on around you. Like me flirting with you.”

Fingers pausing their typing, you resisted the urge to throw your phone at him. “I wouldn't say I'm ‘missing’ it, exactly,” you said, annoyance levels rising. “It's actually interrupting my work.”

“You're working right now?” the voice asked incredulously. “Darlin’, no. Put the phone away, you're sitting at a bar. Why the hell are you working?”

“Look, if you’re looking for an easy lay tonight, it’s not me,” you stated bluntly, skimming through the finished email on your phone. “I’ll save you the time right now: I’m not interested. Please leave me alone.”

Another amused chuckle rumbled from the man beside you before you caught him sliding a little bit closer down the length of the counter towards you. Pressing the send button on your phone a bit more roughly than necessary, you couldn’t believe the audacity of this asshole. Was he really going to be that persistent?

“Sweetheart, I’m just trying to talk to you,” he replied, entirely unfazed by your rejection. “No need to go getting ahead of ourselves quite yet.”

With a frustrated huff, you turned off the screen on your phone and finally looked over at the man beside you, an irritated glare already on your face. But the irritation immediately fell from it when you realized you recognized this man. An annoying smirk quickly overtook his features as he caught the shift in your own expression, but you didn’t even give that arrogant look on his face another thought before your eyes dropped down to the leather kutte he was wearing, your eyes landing on the President patch. After a brief pause, your gaze slid back up to meet his. The smirk on his face only grew a bit wider as he continued to lean against the bar counter in front of you.

“Change your mind now, darlin’?” he asked.

Ignoring the smirk that seemed to be permanently present and the cocky confidence he exuded, your eyes narrowed slightly back at him. You’d done your research before coming out to Charming. You knew exactly who he was, and he was someone you’d been hoping to get an audience with while you were here. Especially because you were partly here because of him. What were the odds he’d just walk right up to you in a piece of shit dive bar?

“Jax Teller, right?” you questioned back.

That caught him off guard. He visibly recoiled, his eyes widening a bit as you called him by his name. A name he hadn’t given you yet. It took him a moment to recover, his demeanor shifting to something cautious and suspicious almost instantly. 

“Yeah, and who the hell are you, sweetheart?” he asked, tone a bit sharper now.

Turning in your chair, you stuck your hand into your purse which hung over the back of it before pulling out a business card. He gave you a strange look as you slid it towards him on the counter, clearly not anticipating the flirtatious conversation to go the way it currently was. 

“I’m an investigative journalist,” you informed him. “For the San Francisco Sun Times. I’m out here working a story on missing sex workers.”

Jax’s eyes rose back to you over the top of the business card he was holding in his hand. He looked confused as he studied you in silence for a moment.

“I’m sorry, you’re doing what?” he finally asked.

With a roll of your eyes you briefly explained yourself. “I’m investigating the disappearances of missing women–specifically sex workers–in Northern Cali. I believe they’re linked to Aleksander Petrova. You know, the big Russian crime lord?”

Jax pulled a face, his expression morphing briefly into one of horrified disbelief as he set your card back on the bar counter. “Yeah, darlin’. I damn well know who he is,” he told you. “What the hell are you doing looking into a man like that?”

An annoyed huff fell out of you in response. “I just told you,” you replied.

“No, I heard what you said,” he continued, shaking his head at you. “But, sweetheart, you’re a journalist. The hell are you gonna do going up against a man like Petrova?”

Turning further towards him in your chair, you let out a frustrated sigh. You’d been doing this for a long time now, you weren’t remotely incompetent. And you certainly didn’t appreciate being treated as such.

“I’m not going up against him, Mr. Teller,” you began, noticing the way his lips twitched when you’d referred to him so formally. “I’m investigating the missing women. Petrova has a pattern and I’ve been following him for over a year now. I’m trying to find evidence to link the missing women to him so I can give the FBI the information and they can take him down.”

His eyes narrowed back at you, an unreadable expression crossing his features as he listened to what you were saying. He looked completely different now than the arrogant flirt he had been just a few minutes ago.

“Helping those women and stopping that piece of shit is my main priority,” you finished. “The pay from publishing the story just keeps me doing what I do to help others.”

“You realize how unsafe and stupid that is, right?” he shot back. “You’re gonna get yourself killed. Or taken for his trafficking ring yourself. You’re just one goddamn woman going up against a Russian mobster with far more wealth and power than you have. You don’t stand a chance.”

“I didn’t ask for your vote of confidence,” you bitterly pointed out.

He paused for a moment, irritation briefly washing across his features. You figured he wasn’t used to being spoken to like this very often. Particularly by women, if your research into his club had taught you anything.

“Why’re you telling me all of this?” he asked curiously. “Why are you here in Charming?”

“Because, Mr. Teller,” you began, enjoying the flash of annoyance on his face at your continued formality, “I have a reasonable suspicion that your club’s businesses might be affected by all of this.”

His eyes immediately hardened at that, a dangerous glint in them. But before he got a word out, a loud commotion broke out over the noise of the bar. Both of you glanced over at the increasing ruckus across the room. You spotted a table filled with Sons all currently banging their hands against the surface and shouting at Jax. 

“We believe in ya, Jackie!”

“Come on, brother! Seal the deal!”

“What's taking you so goddamn long, man!”

You frowned as the group of men fell into loud laughter, your attention slowly returning to the man in front of you. It was obvious they were shouting at him in relation to him having come over to flirt with you, but they seemed far too invested for their behavior to be normal. Jax's expression didn't give you much to go by as he only appeared to grow further irritated at their interruption before he turned back around and focused on you.

“What businesses are you talking about, darlin’?” he asked.

Resting an arm along the sticky bar counter, you kept your attention solely on him despite the continued noise from across the room. This conversation was far more important than whatever bullshit these men were shouting about. You might never have the opportunity of discussing anything about this investigation with Jax again after tonight, you couldn't waste the opportunity that had fallen into your lap.

“Redwoody and Diosa,” you answered him. “And the Diosa expansion I know you’re working on.”

Jax tensed at your response, his eyes narrowing further as he grew even more uncomfortable now. “How do you know about those?” he asked. “And why do they have anything to do with this?”

“I'm good at my job, Mr. Teller,” you answered. “And I told you, Petrova targets sex workers. And you and your club happen to have rounded quite a few up for your porn business and the poorly disguised brothels.” At the look that flashed across his face, you abruptly held up a hand and continued. “Relax, I'm not here to out you on those. I've known about them for a while now. If I wanted them shut down, they'd have been raided already. That's not what I'm after.”

“And I’m just supposed to take your word for that?” he snapped, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “Sweetheart, you’ve got a lot of knowledge that you shouldn’t have. I’m not likin’ that.”

Tapping your nails against the bar, you could see the tension increasing in him. He’d obviously expected to come over here and flirt, probably thinking he’d take you somewhere for a fuck. Now he looked stiff and pissed off. 

“Do you really think I’d be dumb enough to tell you this to your face if I planned to shut your shit down?” you asked him. “Because that’d be pretty fucking stupid.” Sighing, your nails stopped tapping along the counter as you tried to be straight with him. “Look, I’m investigating these missing women either way. While I do, I’m hoping to keep your girls safe. All I’d like is a little cooperation to do so.”

“Cooperation?” he asked skeptically.

You shrugged easily. “Yeah. Like a head’s up if something weird is going on,” you explained. “If someone’s eyeing your businesses. Following any of your girls home. Anyone actually ends up missing.”

“Darlin’, I think I’m better equipped to take care of our girls more than you are,” he argued, that arrogant smirk gradually returning. “And I don’t need some fed wannabe dragging the real feds to my town.”

“Well,” you said, pushing your chair out and rising to your feet, “I’ll still be around. In case you care to change your mind and help those missing women.”

Pocketing your phone into your jean’s pocket, you figured it was about time you made it back to your motel for the night. You had a long day ahead of you tomorrow and you wanted to finalize a few more notes on your laptop before bed. Grabbing your purse and slipping the strap over your head, you paused when Jax’s voice suddenly broke through your thoughts.

“Whoa, wait, you’re just leaving then?” he asked. “You drop a bomb like that and then you’re just gonna disappear? You didn’t even finish your beer.”

Glancing over at the half-finished, disappointing drink, you made a noncommittal noise and shrugged. “It was shitty beer, anyway.” 

You managed to take one step before Jax was speaking again. In the distance, you heard a bit of commotion steadily growing from the table of Sons once more.

“Come on,” Jax tried again. “Just let me buy you a drink. Something a little less shitty. We can talk about something…less depressing.”

Eyes running over the length of him just once, you already knew what he was after. And the answer was still no. You were here to finish this story and get Petrova thrown in prison. Fucking some random outlaw–no matter how attractive–wasn’t a priority. Especially one who, in your research, apparently had a history of fucking just about anything. You avoided guys like that.

“No, I’m good,” you answered. “Have a nice night, Mr. Teller.”

Taking just a few steps towards the bar’s exit, you heard the commotion from the table of Sons suddenly explode throughout the bar. The noise caused you to halt in your tracks, your head darting over towards the table as your brows knitted together in curiosity. 

“Aw, Jackie!” one of the men shouted. “Ya lost the bet!”

“You’re losing your touch, brother!”

“Shot down! No action for you!”

It took a moment, but the second your ears registered the words ‘bet,’ you steadily began piecing things together. He hadn’t come over to initially speak with you because he’d actually been interested, it’s because they’d all made you into a damn bet. A fucking joke for their entertainment. Probably something along the lines of him getting you into his bed. A look of disgust passed over your features as your gaze shifted to Jax still standing beside the bar. He at least had the audacity to look moderately apologetic before he turned his attention towards the guys, shouting loudly across the room to be heard.

“Knock it the fuck off, assholes!”

Shaking your head at him, you could feel the disgust and embarrassment steadily filling you. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t worked with countless individuals in the seedy underworld, because you most certainly had. Your ability to humanize them to the outside world in your pieces was something you’d been praised for repeatedly. But never in your years of journalism had you been subjected to something so humiliating. 

“You just saved me three hundred bucks, sweetheart!” one man shouted over to you.

A chorus of laughter erupted once more from the table as you made your way to the exit without a backwards glance at Jax. Instead, you shot the men at the table a dark glare, raising a hand high in the air and flipping the whole table off before pushing the door open and making your way outside. 

Working with the Sons on this story, if you managed it, was going to be a pain in your ass.

[satalxo]

satal masterlist 💖

i'm satal, i write smutty oshamir fanfic on ao3, both canon-divergent and au. my asks are open :)

One Shots

born out of a fire - 3.3k. Explicit. Canon Divergent. When she attacks him with his ligthsaber outside the cave, Qimir convinces Osha to let him help set her free.

upended - 3.7k. Explicit. Canon Divergent. Nothing could have prepared Osha for the way her entire universe changes when she dons the Stranger’s helmet.

strangeness & charm - 4.5k. Explicit. Modern AU. Mae drags Osha to a house party she really doesn’t want to attend. There she runs into awkward loner Qimir from her Mechanical Engineering class.

Multi Chapter

you could be mine tonight - 2/2. 10k. Explicit. Modern AU. Qimir Stranger is notorious for being the best one-night-stand at Khofar University. After a string of shitty boyfriends and lackluster hookups, Osha decides she wants a try.

we bleed the same - 3/3. 11.5k. Teen. Canon Divergent. Osha Aniseya has a soulmate. She's known this since she was six years old, when the vicious scar first appeared on her back. But the galaxy is a vast place, and her chances of ever finding her soulmate seem impossibly small.

a glow like this - 3/3. 27k. Explicit. Bridgerton AU. A year after meeting a greasy but charming stranger at a salon she wasn't supposed to attend, Osha discovers he's the Duke of Bal'demnic, her sister's betrothed.

once in flight - 3/3. 22k. Explicit. Fantasy AU. Ten years ago, Princess Verosha Aniseya fell into a river and was rescued by a dragon. On her eighteenth birthday, he returns to collect her.

our stars will align - 1/7. 5k. Explicit. Modern AU. At twenty-six years old, Osha Aniseya is tired of being a virgin. But her demanding job as an architect doesn't leave her much time for casual dating. Desperate to be rid of her virginity so she can finally have the confidence to ask out the hot IT guy at work, she does something truly unhinged: she signs up to auction her virginity online.

Series

shades of you and me

masterpiece - 25/25. 181k. Explicit. Modern AU. College Sophomore Osha is perfectly content with her choice to pursue a Mechanical Engineering degree. But when she needs an elective to round out her coursework for the semester, Mae convinces her to join Intro to Studio Painting. There she encounters Professor Qimir Stranger, who turns her whole world upside down.

abstraction - 4/4. 82k. Explicit. Modern AU. Qimir POV companion to masterpiece.

up all night

wanna be loved, wanna be afraid - 13/?. 225k. Explicit. Modern AU. DEAD DOVE dubcon darkfic. When the greasy bartender realizes their IDs are fake, Mae offers to blow him in exchange for access to the VIP lounge. He agrees to the deal…only he doesn't want Mae.

this is what you came for - 1/1. 4k. Explicit. Modern AU. Solmae. While her sister is off with the sleazy bartender, Mae sets her sights on Sol Jedi, determined to get him to sign her to his modeling agency no matter what it takes. Companion fic to wanna be loved, wanna be afraid.

[oonajaeadira]

Leave Off Your Wandering pt. 4: Winter

Fandom: The Last of Us (TV)/ Joel Miller

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Reader: Adult female. Old enough to have been an adult on Outbreak Day. Wyoming born and bred. Sheep farmer, easy-going but confident and self-sufficient. Likes to sing, not a great cook. Childhood friend of Maria. No other physical descriptors; no use of y/n.

Rating: Mature.

Warnings: Mentions of sex but nothing explicit. Canon-typical violence, bodily harm, death,  (blood, broken bones, knife wounds, shooting, blunt force) and PTSD.

Summary: Revenge comes calling and you work though it as a family.

A/N: Series set after season 1 and then diverges. Does not acknowledge the existence of further plot/seasons, although it does use some characters/elements from the second game.

I’m so sorry it’s taken this long to get to winter. This one was difficult for me to face writing for reasons that may be made clear. But it was very rewarding. <3

The air is thin and cold this morning, takes your breath and makes a show of it as you quickstep it down to the stables. The sun is just starting to make the frost sparkle and no doubt Goldie will be using up the rest of the firewood at the Roost today.

Good thing you have a Joel who’s ready to chop more.

Although he’s also a Joel that’s forgotten his tea, the “stuff with the things in it” that Willa gave him for the stiffness in his knees. With this cold he’s going to want it today on patrol and the last thing you think you can stand is the tug in your heart when he comes home complaining of the cold and the ache and you sitting warm and cozy with his thermos on the counter when you had the legs to trot it on out to him.

It’s a relief to round the corner and find the patrol party still at the stable gate, Tommy helping one of the teens with their rifle strap, and Joel waiting on horseback, weaving his gloved fingers together, packing them down at the valleys to get his hands all the way in.

He’d laid one of those hands on your cheek this morning. Gentle. First thing you saw when you opened your eyes. Like most mornings now. His thumb rounding the rim of your cheek so he could lean in and take a good long drink of a kiss.

He likes it that way…soft, slow. Likes to pull you in as close as he can, twist his forehead into your temple when he hits his peak, jaw clenched in agonized pleasure, kisses along your jawline when you find yours, his eyes half-lidded and watching you in a hazy awe. He’s quiet but thorough, completely  present like he can’t believe he’s got this little slice of warmth, sighs a hushed curse in your ear and calls you sweetheart in the same breath, and then sleeps like a baby the whole night through.

He doesn’t like to talk about the past much, but listening’s your specialty and it comes out in bits and pieces, stuck between the little he does say. You come to understand that he very rarely got to be very close with anyone while Sarah was growing up. There were the years when everything was a nightmare. Then there was Tess and she brought him out of that, thank goodness. But it took time. And there was also denial and survival and means to their ends. There might indeed have been strong love there. But you have the feeling he’s not had this–or anything like it–for a long, long time.

So if he wants it soft and slow, then who are you to deny him?

Maybe it shouldn’t be so surprising that it was him who pulled you in a little closer.

“What if you didn’t move in with Tommy and Maria this winter?” He’d lingered the morning after Christmas, leaning one shoulder against the frame of your bedroom door, savoring the show of you getting dressed for the day.

“And waste the fuel? Why? So we can cuddle up now and then without your brother down the hall? You keep me plenty warm, Joel Miller, but I’m not going to heat this whole house just for me and your more-than-casual visits. Everyone’s got a responsibility here to conserve in the winter. This is how I do my part. And besides,” you purred as he stepped in to button up your flannel for you, freeing up your fingers so they could run through his curls, “I know where you live and your bed’s good as mine.”

“You seem to like it there well enough.”

“I do.” His beard was growing in all but a patch on his jaw that was now your right to kiss.

“Well I was thinkin’ we just make it ours for the winter.”

His hands had circled your hips and his words had stopped your heart, but there was little for to say with his lips pressed against yours.

So mornings often started as they did today, waking to find Joel beside you, roused because you can feel him watching you with that little half smile that reveals the crack in his weary heart where the light shines through. Who needs spring to come with sunshine like that to turn to? Now there are family breakfasts with Ellie and cozy days knitting in the company of Maria and Riley and then warm nights with Joel on one of those pillowtopped mattresses that were all the rage before the outbreak…the ones that are great when you have a stiff back, but even better because the springs don’t squeak…

“Aw dammit,” Joel says when he sees you nearing the stables with the thermos, “Knew I forgot something.”

“Two somethings,” you say pointing to his bare head and passing your hat up to him in the saddle. “Your ears are already bright red. Here. Take my hat.”

“This’s Ellie’s.”

“Huh. Guess I just grabbed one on my way out. Oops. Be a man. Wear a pompom.”

He pulls it down over his ears and smiles. “Matches my scarf.”

You’d had a small batch of deep red wool you’d managed to squeak a hat and scarf out of and gifting the hat to Ellie around Christmas, but the scarf went to Joel. He may not want anyone to think of him as sentimental, but it was worth your while to make it easy on him by giving him something that was also practical. Even if he had his jacket zipped up all the way, it was always there, tucked around his neck; he may leave his ears to the elements but he never went anywhere without that scarf.

The line of horses start making their way toward the Jackson gates and you squeeze Joel’s shin before stepping out of the way, letting him and his horse follow the group. He simply lets a gloved finger glance your cheek as he passes by.

All the way out here on this side of the apocalypse and humans still have a million variations on saying “I love having you around and I’d like to keep it that way.”

________

“Ellie’s more than welcome around here if you and Joel don’t want to leave her home alone.”

Maria’s lightly bouncing a wet-faced and blubbering Riley on her lap, trying to tempt him with a frozen carrot for his teething. He has tommy’s curls and they sproing with every boing.

“Nah, she wants to come out. We’ll be dividing the ewes and driving part of the flock into the old town for the rest  of the overwinter and she wants to see how it's done. Should see it, if she thinks she’ll be entering the rotation at any point. Speaking of,” you grunt, leaning down to gather your knitting basket and gather your things, “I promised I’d meet her after school. She’s gotten into collecting cassette tapes and the commissary says she’s hit her quota on goods this week. Gonna give up a couple credits so she can discover the wonders of Joan Jett and the Beastie Boys.”

“That’s throwing gas on the fire. She pick those out herself?”

“Nope. My points, my choice. And I say that girl needs to fight for her right to party and put another dime in the jukebox, baby.”

Maria rolls her eyes, chuckles, goes light on the sarcasm. “You’re the coolest auntie.”

“Don’t I know it,” you laugh, tying up your boots.

“Joel’s gonna just love that.”

Leaning in to bop a quick kiss to Riley’s head, you give Maria a crazed grin. “So much.”

Ten minutes later, Ellie has her doubts, holding up a cassette at the commissary. “But there’s a dinosaur on this one! How can it not be great?”

“Listen, missy. I’m not saying Dinosaur Jr. doesn’t have a place in music history, but I’m telling you that you’re likely to be disappointed. Trust me. Just this once.”

Ellie makes a face but you glance past it, distracted by what you see through the window behind her. Following your focus, she turns to look too. “Who’re they?”

All of the patrol horses coming back in have two people on them–a member of the party, and a stranger. And all the strangers can’t be more than teenagers.

“Dunno, but it looks like you’re about to get some new classmates. I’ll sign these out. You go ahead and make a good first impression.”

“You’re just sending me out there because you know if they’re infected, I can’t catch it.”

“If they were infected, they wouldn’t be on those horses or inside those gates. I’m sending you out there because you have a way of reading people. Go.”

Something in that puts a gasp in her throat and a sparkle in her eye and her ponytail whips behind her as she goes, striving to live up to the compliment.

But really, you just want half a minute to take a good look at the kids without Ellie asking questions. They’re all scrawny and filthy. Backpacks. Been traveling and living rough for a while now. Where’d they come from? What’s their story? Not an adult among them. How have they survived? You’d swear something feels off, but that’s the world now. Can’t be too careful. Everything seems off all the time. 

Question is, off by how much?

You find Joel in the group; he’s the only one riding with a kid in front of him rather than hanging on behind. And once he gets down off the horse and reaches up to help his passenger down, you can see why.

She’s pregnant.

Shit. She’s what, fifteen? Sixteen?

Shit.

“There’s a house up near mine has good plumbing turned on.” Tommy’s speaking over his shoulder to the small group and leading his horse to the stable door as you come out of the commissary. “We’ll get you all washed up and fed. There’s at least two beds there and some other furniture fit to sleep on if it makes you comfortable to stay together. Give me a minute to put Lady away here and we’ll walk on up together. Joel? A word?”

Handing off the pregnant girl’s backpack to her, Joel takes the reins of his horse and follows his brother inside, leaving the newcomers to look around them and take in the town.

All but one. A girl with hair that’s neither light brown or dark blonde, somewhere in between. Your mother would have called it dirty dishwater blonde and you always thought that was rude. But your mother also would have said the girl had a hatchet of a face with a strong jaw like that. And it’s that girl whose head whips around the second she heard Joel’s name, quickly scanning the patrol to ascertain who belonged to it, and stands watching the stable door in thought long after the Miller brothers were gone.

Was Joel her father’s name? Her brother’s? Is it hers or close to hers? Is she a Jo or Joelle?

“Abby. Hey,” a boy calls and she turns. “Mel should get a bed and we can share. Manny and Nora can share too…if you’re okay with taking a couch.”

“Fine,” Abby says. Her eyes and mouth all unmoving lines.

“Hey. Welcome to Jackson. I’m Ellie.” Your starling jams her hands in her pockets as all the new eyes turn her way. “It looks like you’ve been wandering. Where you coming from?”

The boy who spoke before blinks and opens his mouth to say something, hesitates. You’d take him for the leader up until the moment Abby speaks for him.

“West of here. QZ. Seattle.”

“Oh. Cool,” says Ellie with a bounce to her nod. Easy. Instantly welcoming. “I came out of Boston.”

Seattle QZ. The same one your dead husband and his sister came from. Not a good place. Warring factions and nothing but oppression and disease, last you heard. Good that they got out. They’re gonna need to be de-loused. 

But Seattle’s also much harder than most zones to break free of. You’ve been told the Western Liberation Front makes FEDRA look like a bucket of clowns.

“Seattle?” Now it’s your turn to pull focus from the group. “We’ve had refugees from there before. You really get out of there in one group like this? With no grown ups?”

Abby rips her eyes away from Ellie. “It’s a long story,” she says, shutting the questioning down.

There’s a moment that hangs between you and that stinks faintly of threat, but is mostly just the smell of feral kids. Tension breaks as the men emerge from the stable.

“We all ready?” Tommy says, making his way down the road and waving a hand for them to follow. “New home’s this way.”

Ellie starts to fall in with the group and you pull her back in close, speak low. “Go with them if you want, but keep your distance.”

“What? Why?”

“These are your first refugees. You’ll learn that they sometimes bring things with ‘em.”

Her face screws into a question mark. “What things?”

“Fleas. Lice. Viruses. Just give ‘em some space for a while.”

After the quickest flash of disgust, Ellie’s tried and true compassion kicks in and she gives an understanding nod as she turns to go, tape cassettes clattering in her jacket pocket.

You keep watching her even as you speak to the owner of the hand snaking around your waist. “Where’d you find them?”

“Up at the old crossing. They were under attack.”

“Jesus.”

“Nope. Infected.”

“Been a while since we’ve seen any of those stumble through here.”

“Infected? Or the kids.”

Turning to him in exasperation you look him over. “Both. And the same goes for you as for Ellie, Foxy. Let’s take you home and wash that scarf and hat. Run a fine-toothed comb through that hair just to make sure.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” he says, stopping when he catches your zero-temperature glare. If it’s something else you love about Joel, he recognizes when something’s important to you and answers a lady with composure and respect. “Yes, ma’am.”

____

“You couldn’t have found her some Cash or Fleetwood Mac or something?”Joel grumbles into the fireplace as he places another log on the coal bed and moves the poker around like he’s doing something.

Ellie sits on a blanket near the fire, reading a comic book, headphones on, Joan Jett’s grinding guitar bleeding out into the otherwise quiet living room. With his face turned to the fire and Ellie facing away from you, she most likely can’t hear the conversation that’s happening around her if you keep your voices low.

“You’re just jealous that she asked me to pick something out instead of you,” you smile on the couch, picking up your feet and swinging them into his lap as he sits down beside you. “80’s rock is good for her spiky little soul.”

“80’s means trouble,” he counters, considering her as his hands absently squeeze and rub at your feet.

You go back to your book. Seemingly anyway. It’s easy to steal observing glances from where you are. The thoughtful concern he has for Ellie. You can see him looking over the wood in the hopper and calculating how many days of fuel he has before you all head out to the Roost. A twist of a lip tells you he’s realized he might be a day short and needs to chop more. His gaze drops to his lap as he lightly massages your feet–just running his hands along their contours, pressing a thumb in here and there to tenderize a muscle. The firelight loves him, plays at the edges of his curls, slides down his nose, kisses the purse of his lips.

You jump as he slides a tickling fingertip up the sole of one foot. “Hey!”

“What you get for staring.”

“I wasn’t staring at you, I was reading.”

“Must be pretty small print you don’t turn a page for five minutes.”

Taking off your readers and closing the book, you sit up and deposit them on the coffee table. From here it’s easy to scoot up to him and lean an elbow on the couch back. “What’s got you so thinky tonight, hmm? You look like you’ve got your worry pants on.” There’s a curl right behind his ear that’s so easy to twirl in your fingers and you indulge. You’ve found a little touch helps him open up.

“I can’t help thinking about those kids, thinkin’ they could just wander out in the world like that. If it weren’t for us hearing the runners….” He goes quiet a minute and you let him, his gaze haunting Ellie’s direction but living somewhere in the past. “They gotta be somebody’s kids. I can’t believe Seattle’s so bad they just let ‘em run wild…let ‘em run away from the best you got for ‘em.”

A faint guitar blares from Ellie’s headphones as she flips a page, purses her lips, absently nods along.

“Yeah, well teenagers rebel, Foxy. That’s what they do.”

“No,” he says, softly, resolutely, a tick of his jaw. “Not all of ‘em. Not if they’re loved. And fiercely. And I don’t know a love that isn’t fierce.”

It’s the look on his face that makes you believe him.

Love isn’t a word that Joel bandies about. It’s easy to see it work in him. The way he tells Ellie no when she wants to do something reckless but promises her something just as exciting, going to any length to make her smile. The way he holds Riley’s head in the crook of his arm, his other hand reflexively coming out in defense if anyone gets too near the baby’s soft spot. The way he shoves his brother with a laugh when Tommy picks on him or how he helps Maria to her feet when she’s been on the floor too long, even if she says she doesn’t need it.

The way he… with you he…

His hands work at your feet again. He understands the minute levels of his strength, knows how firm to go without bringing pain.

With you, it’s the way he rolls over and shows you his soft places, invites you in to be a part of it.

Not really what you’d call fierce. Does that mean he doesn’t–

“Is a cherry bomb like a little bomb or a big bomb?” Ellie asks, an earpad pulled away from her ear and spilling Cherie Currie’s stuttered chorus.

“It’s a little one. A firework. But it packs a big punch. It’ll take your fingers off. Hello, world, I’m your wild girl, I’m your ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch cherry bomb,” you sing, pushing your foot against Joel’s thigh with every beat. 

“Alright, that’s it,” he says, wrapping a big hand around your ankle to secure it. “Ellie, run on up and get my guitar. Lemme teach you a better song.”

In the minute it takes for her to come back, Joel foregoes softness for force, tickling relentlessly, almost ending up with a foot in his face with how much you squirm.

___

Church isn’t really your thing, never was. You have your own way of listening to the beauty of the earth that doesn’t mean sacrificing a morning sleeping in to listen to lessons you’ve already learned and hold true.

But today you’ve come to the after-brunch curious to welcome the new residents and managed to show up a little early. So you’re standing in the back of the mess hall with Maria and Riley, waiting for the final hymn to end, for the preacher to call an end to the service and a beginning to the meal.

Maria leans in and murmurs in your ear as the final chorus comes. “Tommy and the crew are working on one of those bigger houses with the vaulted ceilings in the new district so the church can have its own building.”

“They’re not gonna like having to walk over there.”

She shrugs, adjusts Riley’s teething toy and bounces him up a notch. “Might cause some of them to move over there. Thin out the density. Easier on the power grid. We do have five new residents.” 

You watch as one of the new boys–Owen–helps the pregnant Mel to her feet. “Soon to be six.”

Once the kitchen starts serving, Owen and Mel find their way over to your table, eager to meet Riley and ask Maria all kinds of questions about childbirth and your friend finds herself in a mentoring role she didn’t ask for. She’s not opposed to being helpful, just lets her judgment slide through on the whole babies having babies thing which completely flies over the kids’ heads.

They’re good enough kids, but something tastes a little sour when Owen tries to include you in the conversation.

“What about you? You and…is his name Joel? You gonna have any kids?”

It’s a rude question. He’s earned your side eye and he knows it, but smiles through it, playing innocent.

“Already got one. One’s enough,” you laugh, sly, chewing through some boiled oats and letting him know you’re gonna let that one slide.

“Oh, yeah, right. Ellie, right?” he asks, with a flick of his eyes to a table behind you. Turning, you find Abby at a table with some other residents and when you turn back it’s with a dry expression that tells him he’s worn out his turns at beating the bush and should be out with it.

“We just were wondering if she’d show us around,” Mel explains. “She’s the only one of the children here who will talk to us.”

You snort. “Don’t let Ellie hear you call her a child. She’s short for her age, but she’s not much younger than you. She likes people, but that won’t win you any points.”

“And don’t worry about the other kids,” Maria takes over, shooting you a look. “They’ll come around. A lot of them were born here and they don’t see a ton of new people.”

“Are they not coming to the brunch today?” Owen asks.

“Who?”

“Ellie and Joel.”

Shaking your head, you swallow your latest bite. “Joel and Tommy are off getting some work done in the new sector and Ellie would bite my face off if I woke her up before high noon on a weekend. But she knows where you’re staying. I’ll send her around to you once she’s up and acting like a whole human.”

You’re about to change the subject and ask them a few questions of your own but Riley starts fussing and Mel asks to hold him and the whole baby talk starts up again.

When you look over your shoulder, Abby is gone from the table. Left her dish for someone else to clean up.

There’s a thought creeps in that maybe Ellie can teach them all some manners. And then you remember the mouth on your starling and smile.

____

“And Owen showed me some of his drawings and they’re so amazing. He’s like a fucking Picasso or something. He says he’ll give me lessons if I can get Mr. Scowlface here to take him out hunting. Says he misses hunting deer with his dad. And Abby wants to go too. I told her how you taught me to use a shotgun and she seemed really interested to learn. She might want to join the patrols some day. But I told them not this week since we’re going out to the Meadow and they all had questions about that. Abby especially–” 

Ellie has a remarkable talent for chewing and talking at the same time. She catches a piece of apple that escapes her mouth, slurping it off the back of her hand where it landed, then downs the rest of the milk and wipes her mouth with the cuff of her sweater, leaving you to negate your silent praise of her manners from earlier in the week and giving you a break in the chatter to speak.

“Well, you’re a little young to be recruiting your own Roostlings, but if Abby or any of the others want to come out sometime and see what the fuss is about, they’re welcome. I’d rather them wait until spring though, or at least until we get the whole of the flock back from the deep winter holding grounds. Chickadee’s taking up the caboose on that.”

As you push the carafe of chicory coffee toward Joel and clear the breakfast plates, Ellie snatches the last hunk of bread you left on yours, shaking her head. “Abby’s afraid of heights. Didn’t even have time to tell her about the Roost being up on stilts. What’s a caboose?”

Joel scoffs. “Last car on a train.” He takes a long, loud drag of his coffee, pouring on the annoyance to get a glare out of the girl and succeeds. “Well, if she don’t like heights, she’s not going to enjoy learning patrol duty either, not with the watchtowers and the mountain trails. And don’t go promising services you can’t guarantee. I’m not a scout leader.”

“What’s a scout leader?”

“Someone with a lot more patience than me. Get.”

Taking up her backpack, Ellie makes her way to the front vestibule to pull on her gear.

“Don’t forget your hat and scarf!” You call to her, but smile at Joel as you perch your butt against the table and tuck a little curl behind his ear. He’ll ask you to cut it soon. And you’ll put it off for as long as possible.Tickles, he'll say. I know, you'll say.

“Thanks, Gramma Betty!” she calls back and pulls the door shut behind her as Joel lays a warm hand on your outer thigh.

“What’er you getting up to today?” he asks.

You shrug. “I’m in carding mode. Got a whole bag of washed fleece needs combing. I’d ask you what you’re up to, but I assume you and Tommy are gonna be tearing down some poor old house.”

There’s a moment where he squints, thiinking. His thumb tracing the outer seam of your jeans. 

“I want you to come with me. Got something to show you.”

“Really. Well I like the sound of that. I could use a little walk in the bitter cold with a mystery at the end of it. Gonna have to go pull on a heavier sweater though. Might need to take this one off first. You wanna come watch?”

There’s a knock at the front. Tommy. The door opening.

Joel only grins fondly and pats your thigh, sending you off, before pushing the chair back from the table and separating himself from his coffee mug. “I’ll catch the later show. ‘Specially if it calls for audience participation.”

Five minutes later, bundled and booted, the three of you head out toward the new section, Joel with his scarf tucked in tight and hat pulled down low, and Tommy with a set forced upon him because you’re quickly becoming the winter clothing police around here.

It’s not a long walk. Jackson was never more than a few miles wide and this is just the first expansion of the wall. You’ve wandered over during the construction crew’s activities enough to know the way without being led, but what you’re expecting is for Joel to lead you away from the furthest street, away from the beautiful A-frame house so neatly repaired along with its pretty neighbors and up the street with Tommy to the next clutch of houses they’ve been working on. 

But instead, Joel tells his brother he’ll be along in a minute, and Tommy smiles knowingly as he continues on, leaving the two of you in the walkway up to the pretty A-frame that’s so much like the Roost’s bigger sister.

“You know what today is?” Joel asks, hands in pockets, squinting up at the peaked roof.

“Friday?”

“Probably,” he says, shifting focus to his boots. “I was thinking more holiday-wise.”

The air’s particularly crisp today, hitches in your lungs as you take each mental step and catch up with him.

February 14. Valentine’s.

As your mouth drops open, he jerks his chin at the house. “You like this one, right?”

“What…what are you….Joel?”

There’s a cringe that belies his confidence, maybe a tinge of regret. “I just figured we were gettin’ along so well, that maybe you’d… It was just an idea–”

He can’t even look you in the eye until you yank his hand awkwardly out of his pocket and wrap your gloved hand around his. He seems almost shocked to see your tears welling up–true, half from the cold–but he’s also relieved. Big breath in, big breath out. That must have been the hard part.

Words aren’t Joel’s way. This is how he tells you just how deep his feelings go. You know he’s had time to imagine with every window replaced, every floorboard leveled out, every load bearing wall reinforced,  just which family was going to get to live in this house and what kind of life they might make in it.

What kind of life you might make together here.

So you take his lead and say only what’s necessary, as steadily as you’re able. 

“Take me inside.”

His sheepish grin confirms that it was exactly what he’d hoped to hear.

The interior’s simple, but gorgeous. The dark wood gleams, and the whole back wall of the A frame is windowed. The triangle at the top replaced with a leaded stained glass in a sunrise of orange and rose that reflects the undertones in the timber inside and the pines out the window, the mosaic just high enough to catch the last rays that will come in over the mountains at the end of the day and turn the whole place into a dream. The open floorplan has the kitchen near the door, but over by the windows….

Joel gives the tour. The hand-laid stones in the fireplace. The built-in shelves for your books. This is the corner where your favorite chair can go, nearest the fire and where there’s good light for spinning. This rug was here, still good. He points out to the little shed in the back–a place for wool dying, he can hang pegs in there however you need them.

If he weren’t so occupied in explaining the wood he chose to finish the countertop, the way he followed the original dovetailing in the doorframe, the pattern he made with the reclaimed wood in the floorboards, he may have seen you admiring the most important part of the house…or, rather, the most important person in it.

There’s more. Two bedrooms, one off each side of the main part of the house, each with its own bathroom, the larger one with its own porch overlooking a little creek.

“The basement’s not quite done, but I figure I’ll just use that for my own. Felt you might not like the…vibe…”

Ah yes. The former owners. He took care of that too. 

He took care of everything.

“I love it, Joel.”

“Yeah?”

“If there was a stronger word, it would be yours, believe me.”

He only wraps his arms around you as you dive in to squeeze him.

“Good,” is all he says. Breathes in the scent of your hair. “That’s good.”

________

The ewes hate the leader ropes, but they follow, bleating now and then as you slowly guide them through the woods toward the Meadow’s north entrance. Joel’s got two behind his and Ellie’s horse, and you’ve got four behind yours, a small party, but the only ones that were ready to come on back out after the coldest weeks.

Goldie’s happy to lead them out to the rest of the flock while you and Joel go up and get situated, get warm, get ready for the week ahead. Ellie follows Goldie and Joel hangs his watch by the door. All’s quiet in the Roost.

Until Joel’s tongue clicks. “That beam is bowing,” he points up to one of the main rafter struts on the far side of the room. “Wood stove keeps this side warm and the snow melts off, but there’s no balcony on the other side. No way to rake the snow off the roof. Tommy should have known better.”

“Well it’s not like he’s had a lot of practice with big boy tree forts, I’m guessing,” you say, dumping a sack of potatoes near the cook pile and throwing the stack of fresh sheets onto the bed. “Does it need to come down?”

“Don’t think so. But come spring we’ll add on another balcony and do some reinforcement.”

As he runs his hand up the wall seam, you come up behind him, hugging him from the back with the sole purpose of distracting him, your way of letting him know he’s obsessing like an old man. It gives you the right angle to grab onto his open jacket and start pulling it off him. “Take this off and stay awhile.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Goldie takes her leave on your horse, guiding Joel and Ellie’s behind, glad to be going back to more warm water than she can heat on a stovetop, and Ellie helps to cart a few buckets of the colder variety up from the stream so you can all just stay in for the night.

Then it’s stew and cards, and Ellie kicking Joel’s ass at Scrabble, all of you bundled in wool sweaters and slippers handmade by you and Chickadee, the firelight glinting off the game tiles, highlighting the glee in the girl’s eyes, the resigned agony in Joel’s smile.

Almost a whole year now she’s been coming out here with you, and it’s wondrous how much she’s grown inside and out. You never felt lonely at the Roost, in fact, you had always very much enjoyed the solitude. Now you don’t think you could abide it. It’s only a home for a week at a time, but only when they come out here with you now.

It’s a nice night. Stars are out. Ellie’s still staring out at them as you and Joel fall asleep in the big bed.

_____

It’s the scent of woodsmoke that wakes you in the middle of the night, sitting you up straight in bed. Or so you think, except that the embers in the stove are low, so it can’t be that. 

No. It’s a voice outside.

“Burn in hell, Joel Miller!”

Is that…Ellie? What’s she doing outside? No. Not Ellie. No it’s–

“Abby?” Ellie says blearily from the bunk above you.

There’s someone in the room moving swiftly toward you from the windows, hulking, with a rifle–

Joel.

“Get up. Both of you. Get out. The place is on fire.” 

It doesn’t register.

“What? What fire? Joel? What’s happening–”

He shakes your shoulder, pulling you from the bed. “Get Ellie out. Now!”

There’s no other thought, just fumbling in the dark as Ellie jumps down beside you and dives for her jacket, shoving her feet into her boots without doing up the laces while you reach out one hand to catch hers for when it comes to you. The other gropes the near table for the walkie and thumbs the button.

“Meadowlark to patrol. Meadowlark to Goldfinch. We’re in trouble, there’s a fire and–”

The whole cabin sways. A gunshot from the balcony. Joel growling over his shoulder. “Get out! Now!”

“Joel–!”

“NOW!”

The ladder is still sliding down into place when you jump on it and ride it part of the way down, still waking up as Ellie’s boots come fast, almost kicking you in the face as she follows you down the rungs two at a time, moving through a plume of choking blackness only to come out below it to a roaring bonfire that’s eating through the Roost’s supports.

Oh god. The Roost…

is burning….

“JOELLLLLL!” you scream up as your stocking feet hit the ground hard, as you catch Ellie and pull her off the ladder and stumble backward, as something hits your head hard and causes you to let go, as separate sets of arms grab each of yours and drag you roughly backward, fast enough to keep your feet from catching up until you’re on your knees.

There’s a crackle in the air– “Patrol to Meadowlark. What’s the trouble?” 

The walkie lies somewhere in the pine needles just out of reach and you’re screaming at it for help but all that comes out of your mouth is a string of names and no’s and helps. You’re able to yank your non-dominant arm free, pitching forward, clawing for the radio, until a flash of hard silver–a meteorite, exquisitely dense and smooth, malignant, swift, direct–cracks down on your forearm with a sickening thud, shattering the bone.

The world slides out of focus through a screen of sudden pain.

At first, you assume you’ve been shot in the arm. But then a figure steps around to your line of sight. Abby. With a golf club? What? Why? Where did she get that? The commissary? Why the fuck would they stock golf clubs? What the fuck is going on? 

And you watch as Abby picks up the walkie. Tosses it into the fire.

The hands are back upon you now, forcing you back to your knees, and a third set joins them, wrapping around your forehead and chin, pulling you back against a belly and you struggle.

Where’s Ellie.

You’re able to twist your head to one side despite being held. She’s there on the ground, face down, groaning, with Owen’s knee in her back.

“Ellie? Honey?”

One pair of hands holding you twists you hard, meaning to pull you further away from her without compliance from the other hands or consent from your muscle structure and there’s a sickening pop as your shoulder leaves its socket and then your scream drowns out everything even the roar of the fire.

“She keeps it in her pocket,” Abby says. Rooting into Ellie’s pocket, Owen finds the knife and pulls it out–the one she cherishes, imbued with the legend of her mother, given to her on the same day as her name, her life, and her orphanhood.

The day Ellie told you the story, you’d taken steel wool to the knife and cleaned it. Oiled the hinge. Shined it up good and pretty.

It flips open easily in Owen’s paw. It twirls swiftly around, and points downward, his fingers closing over the hilt, thumb curling over the butt of the handle to give it more leverage when he’s ready to bring it down.

The night is horribly black and lit along the edges in orange fire.

There’s a loud crack. Owen’s thigh explodes in a splatter of blood and he falls backward off Ellie, screaming. The hands around your head let go and Mel runs to him.

Joel stalks out of the plume of black smoke, cocking the rifle, pointing only long enough at Owen to confirm he’s down and then swinging the barrel around to Abby.

A stand off. No sound or movement but the whoosh of flames and a few ground-muffled cries from Owen, a few sniffles and shushes from Mel.

“Who the fuck are you,” Joel growls out over the steel barrel, his cheek quivering in barely hinged anger.

Abby stands, solid, unyielding, straight as the blonde braid hanging down her back, club wound up tight, ready for the pitch, a face full of lines and soot and destruction.

“The last survivors of the Firefly massacre. You didn’t think to check the rest of the compound? Like the whole team was just one-offs? Like none of them had family, you sick fuck? You fucking orphaned us. Left us to fend for ourselves. Go ahead and shoot, old man. Marlene always said you weren’t so good at keeping kids alive, actually surprised you got as far as you did. So go ahead. Not like we’ve got nothing to lose. We just came to return some favors and finish the job.”

It’s only in the moments later, before the dawn, when you’re laying on your back looking up at the stars, one arm laying broken and useless in the snow beside you, the other cradling a weeping Ellie Williams as tight as you can, that you’ll be able to slow the film of your memory and play out the next thirty seconds frame by frame.

The series of snaps and cracks as the support under the Roost gave way and the whole structure tumbled out and away from the scene, pulling several pines down with it, the crashing and burning the only sound you remember now.

Ellie trying to shuffle along the ground toward you and away from the fire.

Owen pulling himself up enough to raise the knife and bring it down into the meat of Ellie’s calf.

Owen’s body flying backward as a bullet ripped through his skull.

A wrench of your neck and the warm splash of blood from above you as another shot rang out, one person holding you falling away and back, gone, but still pulling you down with their dead body.

The roar of an angry Abby and the clank of a club shaft on a rifle barrel.

Another gunshot.

The sound of metal hitting flesh.

Thirty seconds. And now you can see the stars. Orion. The Milky Way.

Somehow you’re lying yards from the little patch of burning trees with Ellie cradled in your good arm. Someone dragged you here.

There are voices and flashlights. The patrol. Bear and Tommy. Goldie and Willa and Chickadee.

And Maria. Laying on the ground beside you, exhausted from the effort of dragging two humans out of the burning thatch of trees.

“Joel. Where’s Joel.” It hurts to speak. Breath comes fast and shallow.

Then he’s there with the others, a bruise blooming purple beneath his eye, saying only what scant words he needs to move past them and get to you. To Ellie. 

His hands are gentle, but his eyes are cold.

Two still, black pools reflecting fire.

_______

Perhaps unsurprisingly, you dream of Troy, his mangled face open and bleeding, laying in the hole next to Ash, mutilated, stopped at the moment of transformation into something more sinister, your ex-husband and his sister lost to you because they were headstrong, foolish, too devoted to each other….

Ash’s eyes open, what’s left of them anyway. “Abby’s afraid of heights. Didn’t even have time to tell her about the Roost being up on stilts. What’s a caboose?”

They didn’t know the Roost was elevated. They followed us out here and didn’t have a good plan. Is that it?

They don’t answer. They get up and climb out of the hole, turn their backs on your and walk into the forest. You call after them, desperate to have them back after all this time, begging them not to leave you.

But you’re calling after them wrong. You can’t seem to say Troy. You can’t say Ash.

You’re only calling out for Joel and Ellie.

_____

The next thing you know, you’re sitting up in the snow, leaning against Goldie, the girl patting at your cheek as you’re coming around. “Come on, come on back, baby.”

The sun’s up, but not high enough to breach the mountains circling the meadow. Everything’s still lit by the slowly dying flames.

The one two punch of Willa setting the bone and popping your shoulder back in must have sent you off. Looking down, you see you must have thrown up as well. 

“Holy shit,” you groan, “I’m sorry. Oh my god, holy shit that hurts.”

“I know, I know,” says Goldie, smoothing your hair and kissing your forehead. 

“Here,” says Willa, handing you some dark root. You forget what it’s called, you just know you gotta chew. “Don’t swallow,” she reminds you. “You ride with Goldie. She’ll keep you upright once that sets in.”

“I gotta get up,” you mumble, struggling to stand and inhaling sharply at the twinge of pain the movement brings to your bandaged and immobilized arm. Goldie’s able to help get you up, but seems hesitant to let you go. “Ain’t nothing wrong with my feet, lemme go. Where’s Ellie?”

But you don’t need to ask, she’s just behind you, laying on her back in the snow, one arm flung over her eyes, breathing heavy to manage the pain, leg bandaged and tourniqueted.

Good. Next priority. “Where’s Joel?”

Goldie points to the fire. It’s starting to die down, enough to make out the bodies of three teenagers consigned to the flames. Past them, the group of the regular patrol. Joel shaking his head at them, speaking. Jacket zipped up to the top, no scarf, no hat; probably got left behind in the Roost. Rifle over one shoulder. A backpack over the other.

But not his backpack. Why would he have someone else’s backpack? Why would he have one at all…

He’s…. No.

Pushing off Goldie, you immediately find out that walking is hard. Even if the pain’s just in one arm, everything’s connected, everything hurts; it’s disorienting. Your knees are bruised and even your soft sleep pants feel like sandpaper on them. Feet cold and wet, no boots…

Joel sees you struggling to get to him and walks away from the group and the fire, meeting you partway, catching your good arm as your fist falls hard on his shoulder and yanks, fingers digging in hard to his coat, doing your best to hold on tight, to keep him here, to convince him not to go.

“Don’t you dare, Joel Miller. What do you think you’re fucking doing???”

He says nothing, only lets you collapse onto his chest, to sob. There’s not even an arm to comfort you, he gives you nothing but the bare necessity, a wall to keep you standing, and you know nothing you say will make a difference. In essence, he’s already gone.

“Please. Joel. Don’t. Please don’t go.”

“Trail’s fresh. Best to get on before it snows and covers the tracks. One of them’s the pregnant girl. One of them’s bleedin’. They can’t get that far.”

“You don’t have to. Just come home.”

“They’ll just come back. Maybe not soon, but someday.”

He’s right. You know he’s right. Stepping back, it hurts to look at him. The Joel you love has been asked to step aside, the care and fondness he’s come to show you locked up somewhere secure, somewhere where it won’t get in the way. 

I warned you, this Joel seems to say, void of emotion, jaw set, brow even and low, hand on the strap of his rifle. You took me in knowing exactly what I am.

He’s right.

“I need you here, Joel. Ellie needs you here. Don’t you dare go…unless you can come back.”

“I need you here too. ‘S why I’m going.”

Nothing. No kiss goodbye, no waiting for approval, he just turns and walks. 

Maybe this is the last of it, just one last loose thread, then he can finally leave off wandering, finally shake off the killer and just come home, just be your Joel.

Convincing yourself of this is the only choice you’ve got.

________

You find yourself out on Maria’s back porch that night. Unable to sleep from the ache of the mending bone and the swell of your assaulted shoulder, it seemed like the best remedy was to find the toughest jerky in the kitchen, to sit on the porch in the cold and chew through the pain, and to lean back in one of the porch chairs with a soothing snowpack between it and your back.

The moonlight plays illusions like the canteen filmstrips–a summer image of Tommy and Joel teaching Ellie the mechanics of tackle football. The twinkle of the fireflies lending veritas to the picture…which in reality is only the twinkle of a dusting of new snow.

Not enough snow to make tracking impossible, but enough to make it difficult.

The back door opens and a blanket lands over your lap.

“Was gonna ask you if you wanted company, but then I decided, it’s my house and you don’t get a choice.”

Maria plops her own blanket in a nearby chair before disappearing and returning with two steaming mugs of tea as offering for the table between you. She takes her time covering you just so before wrapping herself up and joining you on the porch. “Suppose I should have asked if you want that cold pack changed before I get too comfortable,” she says, not really offering, but leaving the suggestion there between you if you need it.

It’s not necessary to talk for a while. She knows exactly what you’re thinking. Sees what you see.

“Did I wake you?”

“No. Riley did,” she lies. You’d heard her shift when you got up from the bed–her bed, well, hers and Tommy’s. But hers and yours for now.

“Thanks for taking care of us.”

“You say that like you’re not my family.”

“Well then, thanks for staying behind as if you are.” 

It’s hard to see her out of the corner of your eye, backed by dark shadows. But the moon plays little crescents on her face, the curve of her nose, her cheek, her chin. Her voice comes out velvet from the dark.

“I know you’re pissed at Joel for going, but he’s doing the right thing.”

Now you make the effort to turn, rotating more from the waist than the neck to save the injury from twinging, but it does anyway, mirroring your spike in irritation. “Really? You think so? Is that why you sent Tommy with him? After all that time you spent bemoaning the things Joel made Tommy do all those years ago–”

“This is different. This is about the greater good.”

“You know that’s what the villain always says, right?”

She presses her lips together, hating that you’re right. “Okay, so maybe not the greatest good for the morality of the remainder of the human race, but. For the good of Jackson.”

“Two grown men hunting down two teenage girls is the greater good.”

“They won’t be teens forever. They’ve both got reasons to come back for their revenge. And now they know where Jackson is. They get taken in by the wrong people, and then the wrong people will know where Jackson is too and when they come back they won’t be alone. They’ll know exactly how many and what kind of folk to bring.” She holds your gaze for a few seconds, steady and wise but also warning, her warmth only thinly veiling the matronly protectress behind it, like a Durga on her throne. “You know why we have patrols. You know what happens to people that get too close. Two more drops in the bucket is all.”

“Three. One of those little girls is pregnant.”

She has no answer to this. Rather, your dig brings no new argument to the table. It’s just words, just a fact on the wind. It doesn’t sway the needle one way or the other.

It’s exactly what you’d been thinking about, staring up at her bedroom ceiling. Then out here on the porch. It’s like she knew you needed to hear the justification out loud.

“They would have killed him, lady. And Ellie. And you. I’m surprised you don’t want them hunted down like dogs.”

You turn your attention to the back yard, the smallest hump of leaves under the big tree there not quite scattered to the wind, sparkling with snow cover. You can almost still hear Ellie’s high laughter as it sounded the day she experienced her first leaf pile.

“Oh, I want them run down,” you say. “I’m all for that, let ‘em eat lead. I just didn’t want…” It’s not really necessary to continue. Maria knows exactly what you want. She always does. That’s why she sent Tommy with him. To keep him tethered to humanity.

To the way Joel watched Ellie jump and disappear into a poof of leaves. The sun in his smile. At peace. At home. Free from the old violence. Reborn.

I just didn’t want Joel to be the one to do it.

______

Maria’s dinner table feels empty. Funny, you think, it was always the two of you. For a while there was four, what with Troy and Ash, but most of the time just the two. Then Tommy. Then Joel and Ellie. Now Riley…well, that is, if he’s still up during family dinner.

You’ve slept through most of the light of day and was hoping to talk to Ellie at dinner, but Maria’s been taking all her meals to the guest room for her. Mostly so she doesn’t have to walk down the stairs on her healing leg, but also because Ellie’s not been talking since that night.

And you can guess why. It has less to do with the injury and assault or the fire, and more about the truths she learned during them. 

Not much to do. The arm has to stay stable, strapped to your body. At least they fucked up the non-dominant one so you can still hold a fork, still brush your teeth. But knitting? Spinning? Helping Maria clear the dishes? Fat chance.

Not much to do but chew root, smoke wild weed, and sleep it off.

Maria reappears with a plate needs washing. “There’s a break in the clouds. I got three whole words out of her. This might be your chance.”

“Oh. Joy.” It’s getting to be less of an effort to stand now that you’ve got rest and food in you. The stairs are daunting only because of the conversation that waits at the top.

A knock on her door only grants you silence.

“I’m coming in, Starling girl. Best not be naked.”

No answer. You take that as the opposite of opposition. Tolerance.

She’s sitting on the bed, propped up by pillows behind her back and under her knee, her bandages freshly changed, no more blood pooling or free bleeding. She plays with the cuffs of her sweater, tugging at a loop in the knit, a book abandoned by her side as if she’d put it down when you knocked. A good sign. She doesn’t want to hide.

You crawl in beside her, awkwardly, one-handedly, a big showy sigh of relief when you finally land. “You know, if I was your mom, I’d probably start off with ‘what’cha reading there, kiddo?’ just to get you to say something, but I’m not your mom and I’m not here to make you talk if you don’t wanna–”

“Well I don’t.”

“Good. I didn’t come up here to hear you yap anyway.” You detect the tiniest twitch of her cheek, not quite a smile, perhaps a sneer…to scare away a smile. “Don’t talk, just listen.”

“I don’t wanna do that either.”

“Tough titties. I’m cashing in exchange for all the time I had to listen to you go on about Sally Fucking Ride.”

Now she does smile. Barely. Gives you the teenager face you wanna slap sometimes. “Tough titties? Really?”

“They didn’t have tough titties in the orphanage? Seems off-brand.” The smile fades. “Tell me how you’re healing. I’m not asking, I’m demanding.”

A big breath in. But the air doesn’t come rushing back with a dramatic sigh, just melts out of her with a single tear she doesn’t move to brush away.

So you do. “That bad, huh.”

“It fucking sucks. It fucking sucks so bad.”

“Heh, tell me about it. I miss the good old days of ibuprofen. Shit. I miss morphine. You’re young though, you’ll be up and running in a week or two. Me? I’m gonna be aching for–”

“He fucking lied through his teeth.”

Ah. There it is.

Now the colony of tears follows the first scout, pouring out over the plains of her cheeks until she covers her face with those cuffs she’s been picking at, relieved at being able to let it all out in front of someone who might understand, but probably scared as hell to let herself be this messed up in front of someone who might not. A gamble.

And a win. You’ve still got one good arm and you put it to good use, pulling her into your side. “Yeah, you’re right. He totally did. He’s a fucking asshole. Why the hell would he do that.”

“It wasn't time that did it,” she hiccups from under her woolen cuffs.

“I don’t know what that means, Starling” you say, unable to stop yourself from kissing the crown of her head.

She wipes her nose and comes up for air. “I mean I know why. But he fucking lied about everything. Straight to my face.”

“Well, you’ve got every right to demand an explanation and an apology when he comes back. Straight to his face.”

“If he comes back.”

You let that sit a moment between you. It’s her way of saying that she knows you’re mad at him too, that she heard the conversation you had with him when he left. It’s her way of poking at your own fears and getting you on her side.

“Those girls aren’t armed and the Miller boys have a lot more experience with being hunters than those kids do being prey. He’ll be back.”

“I hate him.”

“I know. But also. You don’t.”

“I had a… a purpose. A fucking purpose.”

“Well….I know you did, but…probably not so much as you think.” She looks up at you but you can’t meet her eye, she’s right to mourn, and you can’t deny her that. “Remember what I told you about my sister and her treatments?”

“The research hospital.”

“Yeah. Cancer’s been killing people on this earth far longer than cordyceps and they’d had millions of patients to test on. Still couldn’t crack it. How many people are immune like you? Because if it ain’t millions, you just become one part sample in a petri dish and another part dead body that maybe give some vague clues and then you’re all parts in the bin, end of story. I mean, I’ll be honest. I don’t blame him. You’re quite a keeper.”

Now her sigh is dramatic. “And then he fucking lied about it.”

“So you would feel good about it. Accomplished in your goal. Also so you wouldn’t hate him for caring about you more than you do.”

“Why didn’t he just say–?”

“Do you know that man to be good with words?”

This quiets her. Both of you. For a few minutes. She goes back to picking at her sleeves.

The sun’s set completely now and her little bedside lamp can’t even drown out the stars so bright on the other side of the window. Clear night. Cold out there.

After a moment you take your arm back, jostle her with your shoulder. “Hey. I’m going out to the Meadow tomorrow, check in with Willa, look over the damage. If I bring you back a piece of the Roost, you wanna do some carving or whittling or something? We’ll build a platform like the old one and it’s probably just gonna be a tent up there for a while like it used to be, but hopefully this spring or summer we’ll get a structure up there and we’ll need a cornerstone or a plaque or something signifying its importance. Since you’re on your ass all day with nothing better to do, and you’re the star recruit, I’d love for you to do it.”

Her lips twist, half smiling at the request, but then in regret. “I lost my knife.”

“The one from your mom?” She nods. “Well if you’ll do some carding for me while I’m out there, I promise to look for it, ask around, maybe one of the patrol picked it up, okay?”

“Okay. Oh. By the way…How are you healing?”

“I’ve been worse. But mostly I’ve been better. Thanks for asking. ‘S kind of you. But don’t you worry about me.”

“Okay. Um…I’m…sorry about telling them about the meadow and all.”

“Why? You’re a Roostling. It’s your story to tell.” Sliding off the bed you head for the door. “Oh hey. I meant to ask–” you nod at the book by her side. “What’cha reading?”

She doesn’t miss a beat. “Oh…just porn.”

“Cool. G’night.”

“‘Night. Hey Meadowlark?”

You poke your head back in before the door closes completely. “Hm?”

“Thanks. For all that. But mostly for not calling me kiddo.”

You smile. Nod. Give her a warm wink. “Sure. I gotchu, kiddo.”

It’s worth the eyeroll you catch as you close the door.

________

The most sickening part of coming in through the north passage isn’t seeing the burn scar on the pine grove in the middle of the Meadow, isn’t missing the outline of the Roost through the trees, but rather the feeling that your home has been breached, that for a moment it wasn’t safe and now you’ll always wonder if it will be.

Riding across the north plain, you close your eyes and breathe, let the horse plod on without your guidance, he knows the way. Once spring comes and the valley fills with flowers and the music of the lambs calling for their ewes takes over from this cold silence that comfort will be renewed. 

But for now, there is no comfort on the Meadow in winter, not without a pretty little fireplace and a warm spot to watch the snow build up on the mountains.

You know what’s coming, but it turns your heart inside out all the same when you open your eyes.

Where once there was a cabin in the treetops is now a void leading downward to a pile of blackened rubble and debris. Off to the side under some lower trees is the old canvas tent with the vent hole and a friendly little trail of smoke rising from it. Willa always knew her way around a fire and didn’t mind keeping a low one going on the inside. You never were that confident, even with a fire-treated tarp.

She’s been at work out here, pulling useful things out of the rubble. The woodstove. The pulley jacks. A few timbers that are mostly unburned. 

But there’s a pile of other things too, useless items that shouldn’t be mixed back in with the earth: a burned walkie. Twisted silverware and blackened plates. The iron tools from the rafters. Shattered tile. Your charred and mangled boots.

All that’s left in the major wreckage is wood. And glass. And bones.

Three blackened skulls, three sets of eye sockets and three jaws gaping up at the sky as if they were caught in the moment of realizing their plans were going terribly awry. 

Stupid fucking kids. ….Just kids.

If someone asked you how you knew which one was Owen’s, you wouldn’t be able to say. You just know. The memory of him sinking that knife into Ellie’s leg…of hurting her…intent to kill… His skull breaks like a cracker when you put your weight on it.

Willa doesn’t say anything when she comes up along side to stare down at the bones with you. It's not the first time you've stood with her at the edge of a burned down home.

"I hate that it’s gonna take me a while to sift though all this,” you say.

“We’ve decided to skip your turn for a while. At least until there’s a new platform.”

You nod, resigned. You don’t love it, but it’s best. Trauma lingers longest of all hurt. 

“How’s the flock?”

“They’re over it.”

“Figures. Fluffy shits. Any chance you found a pocket knife out here?” You ask her.

She nods, reaches into a jacket pocket and there it is, like it’s been waiting to come back to its keeper, made itself shiny and easily found. It’s passed between you like a sacred object, holy, a relic saved and cared for, a thing infused with deep love and meaning. There’s an instant relief as your fingers curl around it, your shoulders relaxing and releasing a little of the pain.

“Thank you.”

“There was this too.” From the same pocket Willa pulls a disk of silver and glass, turning it over and placing it in your hand with the knife.

The watchband is burned away. But it’s otherwise unharmed.

Willa may be a stoic, but she knows enough to recognize a release through tears and to hold you while you cry.

Later that afternoon when you knock on Ellie’s door, you’ll hand her the knife and a piece of the old Roost to carve to consecrate the new one. And then you’ll give her the watch and ask her to be your hands, to help you with one more thing.

________

Two days later, you’re standing in Joel’s living room, never having been here when it’s so quiet, dark, and cold. With you and Ellie staying with Maria, there’s been nobody here to light a fire, to make the place live. You wouldn’t be here if Maria hadn’t made a side comment about maybe you and Ellie’d been in the same clothes for a day too many. Not that you thought you’d be with her that long.

She was right. It was nice to change into something clean–a soft fleece and some sleep pants. While the sword of Damocles kept things in check at Maria’s house, it did feel just this side of an extended girl’s night sleepover, might as well dress for it. Ellie had asked for something soft and comfy so you decided to go for it, an assortment of sweats and sweaters in the duffel at your feet.

What you’re eyeing at the moment is an empty hook on the wall by the fireplace.

You put your hand in your jacket pocket and pull out the watch.

Ellie did a beautiful job with it, took directions like a champ. Sitting together on her bed, listening to Joan Jett and Pat Benetar, you’d instructed her how to design the plaid stripes into the strap, how to knot and plait in patterns.

“Macrame. MACrame. Mac. Ra. Mayyyyyy,” Ellie’d chanted. “It’s a fun word to say. What’s it mean?”

“Fringe. Knotting. It’s just the name of the technique. I dunno. Probably something prettier in French.”

The strap clasps had been lost in the fire, so you’d had Ellie work him a new strap out of dyed and tightly-spun wool, something a little longer so he could tie it on. Most likely he’d come back here first, so you want to put it somewhere he’d see it, that way he could have it again without a lot of fuss but knowing at the same time you were thinking of him. So you slip the end loop over the hook, gently let it slip through your fingers and rest against the wall.

If he comes back…

The front door opens. Boots on the wood. The thump of a backpack.

By the time you’ve turned, he’s coming in through the front hall.

When he sees you standing here, he stops.

You never imagined this moment. You should have. It might have prepared you for the yellowing bruise on his face, the majority of his left pant leg browned with dried blood, his knuckles raw and just beginning to heal over.

You struggle with finding the right question. Find ‘em? They dead? Finish the job? No survivors?

I’d ask you what the hell you did, but I know and I don’t wanna hear you say it.

Instead all you can muster is a nod at the blood on his jeans.

His eyes slide to the staircase, already looking to move on, and he only answers with a short and shallow nod of his own before doing just that.

You find yourself sitting on the couch, staring at your hands, the duffel, the watch, back at your hands. Listening as he moves around upstairs, dropping boots, his belt buckle clapping to the floor. The shower running for a long, long time.

Sun’s going down. Getting colder.

The squeaks from the staircase are slow, softer than usual. He’s taking his time coming down. Doesn’t want to force himself back into a space so safe and quiet after pushing through one so big and mean.

He barely shifts the couch as he sits on the far side. Clean shirt. Clean jeans. A pair of socks you knit him.

“Where’s Ellie?” He sounds like he hasn’t spoken to anyone in days. You’d wager he hasn’t.

“With Maria. We’ve been staying there. I was just getting us some clothes. Didn’t think you’d be gone this long.”

“Neither did I. They had a head start. Younger. Faster. But you’re safe now. You’re both safe now.” He’s quiet long enough for the house to give a settling creak as the wind picks up outside. “How’s that arm?”

“Joel, you can’t keep us safe from the world. The world is what it is.”

“The fuck I can’t,” he whispers back, defiant, stubborn, with enough venom that he seems to scare himself and he breathes in deep, keeps it, holding back.

All you want is your Joel back. Even in all this mess. All you want is for him to lay down his fear and love you the right way. 

So instead of arguing, you get up and stand before him, give him the time it takes to understand you’re going to straddle his lap whether he helps you or not. He reaches for you on your way down, guides and supports you, allows you to rake through his wet curls before leaning in to take possession of his lips, to will him–by kissing through to his very soul–to come back to you.

He can’t help but respond, his whole body coming to life, and in the cold, twilit living room, you become a tangle of silhouettes as his hand pushes up under your sweater–somehow still keeping an aura of care around your ruined and wrapped arm–to squeeze almost painfully at your curves, rough and wanting, panting between devouring kisses as he paws beyond the waistband of your sleep pants, sucking at your neck when you throw your head back as he reaches what he was searching for….what you hoped he’d find…

There’s a tousle of repositioning and a clatter of belt and zipper. You’re both raw and rough and needy, and you both take advantage of the emptiness of the house to fill it with the sounds of desperation, of effort, the song of casting off of all inhibition, a duet of total and grateful release. 

But through it all, it’s the way he holds onto you that tells you how much he wanted to get back to you, how close he intends to hold you and never let you go, a desperation that tells you exactly where his faults lay…

…that it was necessary–and always will be–to eliminate any chance of someone taking you from his world by force.

It’s not so much possession as a fierce and burning need to be possessed. A need to belong, concentrated down to its basest form.

“I’m sorry,” he says as he softly kisses your temple, spooning you in the afterglow that burns bright in the darkening room.

“For what? You didn’t hurt me.”

“Rushed it a little. Tend to act before thinkin’ sometimes.”

You’re not completely sure what he means by that. At first you think he’s talking about the rough sex, but you get his meaning. Stalking off after Abby and Mel so impulsively. For being impulsive in general.

For acting out of trauma.

Or love.

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to for that, Joel.”

You can tell the moment he understands when his forehead gently meets your shoulder. “Shit.”

It’s probably the best time to break it to him, while he’s still a little softheaded and euphoric. “She’s ready to listen. But I won’t promise it’ll be easy. It might just be you and me here for a while.”

Once his breathing evens out, he shifts, still holding onto you, but just coming back down, settling back in.

“What’s that?” He mutters, just on this side of falling asleep, lazily pointing at the watch on the hook by the fireplace.

“Your Valentine’s Day present. From both of us. Sorry it’s late.”

________

Taking some shifts off from the Meadow rotation affords you time to start slowly moving things over to the new A-frame, Maria helping you to load up a skid now and then and unload it, walking beside you as you lead the horse that tows it.

After a week or two, Ellie’s up and walking–well, limping, but healing–and starting to talk to Joel at dinner again. She’s on the verge of actually gracing his bad jokes with a smile or even a laugh, but she’s making him work hard for it. Good for her.

You haven’t asked either of them how the talk went. Don’t know if you ever will. That’s between them, the less you interfere, the better.

But you know that things are on the mend when you find Ellie playing Joel’s guitar–learning some Johnny Cash song you know he loves.

And you have a feeling that spring is on the way when you drop off another load at the new house and find a new frame on the wall–a handmade, custom carpentry display shadowbox.

With a watch hanging inside.

_______

PREVIOUS: AUTUMN

NEXT: SPRING AGAIN (coming soon)

MASTERLIST

SERIES MASTERLIST

[godmadeaterribleerror]

More Than You Could Ever Know - Part 2

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: Big bonus chapter for fans of Ben being obsessed with Her.

Title from All I Want For Christmas is You by Mariah Carey

Word Count: 9.2k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Ben and Ryan go shopping, and you all try to find a tree. Usual Warnings.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, tooth rotting fluff, established relationship, Christmas Special

Part 1 - Part 3

Read on A03!

Ben wasn’t sure when stores got so fucking big. He’d seen big box stores before—despite what She insisted, he wasn’t a fucking dinosaur—but this was downright insane. It was a goddamn warehouse, and a poorly designed, maze-like one at that. There was no fucking logic to any of this shit, because Ben took a turn from what seemed to be an electronics isle and ended up surrounded by fucking cheese. It didn’t help that it was only him and Ryan, and they both needed Her for this modern navigation shit. But She was off doing her stupid surprise—Ben had tried to call it a secret again and She’d stuck Her tongue out and flipped him off—so they had to figure this shit out alone, together.

It wasn’t going that well.

“What the fuck are these.” Ben grunted, his eyes narrowed on the shelf in-front of them, filled with weird looking, round stuffed animals. And a mango. And one brown thing that seemed to be staring into his goddamn soul.

Ryan—standing at Ben’s elbows and tapping his fingers on the half-full cart—shrugged nervously. “I think they’re called Squishmallows?”

“Stupid fucking name. What’s that,” Ben gestured to the brown one. “Even supposed to be-“

“Pancakes.” Ryan mumbled. “I think?”

“Huh.” Ben glowered at the plushie, and realized Ryan had nailed it. Stuffed pancakes. She’d like stuffed pancakes. “Good work, kid.”

Ben grabbed the pancakes, tossed them into the cart, and tried not to drown in the hot, bright pride bursting in his chest at Ryan’s grin as he started to push the cart once more.

“Wait.” Ben halted Ryan with a hand on his shoulder, and pointed back to the shelf. “You want one?”

Ryan turned a little red, his voice a soft fucking whisper as his heart stumbled in his chest. “Yes, please.”

“Grab it and we’ll get moving.”

Ryan nodded, choosing one of the weird animals—Ben would figure out exactly what the fuck it was later, but his best bet right now was a cat—and they moved on through the store.

“We got your pants.” Ben scanned around the store, half his attention on what they were supposed to be doing and half on making sure no fucking pussies started filming them. “And the shit for dinner.”

“And Butcher’s shirt,” Ryan added, and when Ben glanced down at him, he was frowning at the cart. “Do you think he’ll like it? He has shirts.”

Ben shrugged. “Everyone has fucking shirts, Ryan. Butcher will just be damn grateful you got him something.”

Ryan hummed, sounding slightly unconvinced, his bod still tensed, so Ben kept talking. 

“And the asshole is fucking impossible to buy for. Trust me, kid, the shirt was a good idea. Butcher will like it.”

“Did you,” Ryan looked up at Ben with widened eyes. “Did you buy him something?”

“Have to. Got him for Secret Santa. And, fuck, don’t tell,” Ben muttered Her name. “I told you that shit. Supposed to be a fucking secret.”

“I won’t.” Ryan shrugged. “I mean, you’ll probably tell her, right?”

Ben snorted, because he would tell Her. The first damn thing he’d do when She got home was pull her into a long kiss and grumble against her lips that he’d told Ryan. And She’d hit his chest and give him a flat glare, teasing him about really not understanding the secret part of Secret Santa, and that would be it. 

And Ryan fucking knew that. He knew that She and Ben didn’t lie to each other, and that when she hit Ben it was never painful or angry, and when Ben rolled his eyes at Her it was because she was a pretty fucking brat with a smart mouth, and he wouldn’t have her any other damn way. Ryan knew they’d never hurt or be really mad at each other, and he was finally starting to fucking get that they’d never hurt or be mad at him. 

It was why, when Ben shook his head and kept walking—never going faster than Ryan could keep up with—the kid’s heart stayed even, and his face remained relaxed. Relaxed for Ryan, so still a little fucking small and nervous, but without panic or fear. And that was as much as Ben could ask for, because he wouldn’t have Ryan any other way either.

“What else do we need.” Ben asked, keeping his vigilant watch on the store around them as Ryan responded.

“Um, I need scrabble for Kimiko?” Ryan mumbled Her name, and Ben’s whole fucking body roared with love from the goddamn sound of it. “Needs something too- as well.” Ryan corrected himself, and Ben chuckled at his puffed-out chest and toothy smile.

“Good work, kid.” He muttered, patting Ryan on the back. “Got ideas?”

“For-“

Ben said Her name, and She glowed a little around his skull. He really fucking missed Her, and if he couldn’t sense that she was a least half-way across the damn city he’d go find Her. Keep his gaze away from Her stupid fucking surprise, but also keep Her by his side. Make Her help him and Ryan with this shit, because She’d know what to do. She always fucking knew what to do.

He’d missed Ryan’s answer. Ben had gotten so lost in the instinct of Her, alight in his body, that he hadn’t heard what the hell Ryan was trying to get her.

“What.”

“Butterfly bush.” Ryan mumbled, staring sheepishly at the cart. “I read about them in my science class? They’re plants that attract butterflies, and you said she likes butterflies? I dunno-“

“Ryan.” Ben snapped, making his voice stern. He didn’t know how to do that soft, sweet shit She did, but Ryan seemed to understand his own, harsher words just as well. Understand that Ben wasn’t fucking mad, just firm in what he said. “That’s a good fucking idea. They sell them here?”

Ryan nodded slowly, his heart slowing to an easy rhythm. “I think so?”

“Well,” Ben shrugged, looking around for some sort of sign that said Perfect fucking gift for amazing wife. “Let go find it.”

It took half a fucking hour, but they found the butterfly bush. Stashed in the back of the goddamn store, real damn pretty and all fucking pink and green. She’d fucking love it. Ben grunted that to Ryan, that this was a damn good gift, and the kid looked like he might explode with joy and pride. Christ, Ben might explode with joy and pride. They’d managed to get everything She’d asked them to—gifts, clothing, food—plus some extra shit like the pancakes, nobody had died, and he and Ryan were doing an amazing fucking job knowing Her. Ben had all his gifts for Her lined up, and they were fucking excellent, but the butterfly bush was a stroke of goddamn genius. Ben wasn’t sure where the hell Ryan got his brains from, because Ben wasn’t an idiot, but he wasn’t that fucking smart, and Homelander had been a goddamn pussy dumbass. Maybe the kid’s mom, Butcher’s dead wife, but a smart lady shouldn’t have married fucking Butcher.

She’d say people might argue that She shouldn’t be married to Ben, but that she also loved him and adored him, and didn’t really fucking care what random fucking pussies thought about them. That maybe Ryan’s mom had seen something better in Butcher, just like She saw something better in Ben. 

But that was why Ben was almost certain Ryan had to, somehow, against all fucking odds, be related to Her by blood. The kid was too generous like that, too kind like that, too fucking smart to be anything else. Ben could fucking see Her on Ryan’s face as they wandered through the store for Kimiko’s scrabble. See Her in the wide awe at all the stupid shit on the shelves, in the real, raw fucking happiness when they found what they were looking for. 

See Her in the slight, hopeful gape on Ryan’s face as the kid halted in front of a terrarium, tracking the turtle inside with bright eyes.

Fuck, Ben could hear Her in Ryan’s voice. Hear that soft, gentle nervousness She had when she asked Ben for something. The tone Ben could make himself say no to if he tried.

Shit.

“Can we get it?” Ryan whispered, pointing to the turtle, swimming real goddamn slow around its tank. “Please?”

Ben scowled. That thing was real goddamn small—easily crushable if he and Ryan weren’t careful—and alive. It was fucking alive. It would need to be fed and cared for, and fuck Ben if he was going to do that-

“I’ll take care of it.” Ryan added, and Ben realized the kid had turned to look at him. Look at him with fucking puppy eyes. “I promise. It’ll stay in my room, and I’ll feed it and watch it and clean its tank-“

“Ryan.” Ben grunted. “Why the fuck do you want a turtle-“

“I like them.” Ryan glanced back to the tank. “They’re really peaceful. And, um, I just think they’re cool. I’ve always wanted one.”

Ben raised his brows. “Always.”

Ryan nodded. “I, um, I couldn’t get one. Mom said it was because I was too young, but I think it was because of, of the thing-“

“Fine,” Ben grunted, glaring at the turtle. He’d been going to give in anyway, might as well do it before the kid got all fucking sad in the middle of the store. Where random fucking asscucks could film it and put it online. Ryan could cry in the car, or when they were home, or when Ben was allowed to break phones and faces when people tried to exploit his son’s pain. Not when it could be avoided by buying a stupid fucking turtle. “But,” he said Her name, already reaching down the connection. “Has to approve this shit first. Deal?”

Ryan nodded eagerly, and Ben called Her name between their heads.

Benjamin. Is everything-

We’re fine. Ben glowered at the turtle, his voice a little lower than he’d like. Can we get Ryan a turtle.

There was a moment of silence before She responded, long enough for Ben to wonder if she somehow hadn’t heard him. What.

Ryan wants-

I heard you, Ben. But it’s December in Pennsylvania, where the fuck did you find a turtle for Ryan to want it.

Ben smirked into the air. Costco. This place is a fucking marvel, Sunshine, I got burger meat and pants-

I know how Costco works, my love. Why are you looking at turtles.

Ryan wants it.

She sighed in Ben’s head. I got that. He knows turtles can live for, like, twenty years, right?

Ben frowned. “Ryan, how long do turtles live.”

“Some can live for fifty years! And they’re so small, isn’t that cool?!” 

Ben grunted, reaching back to Her. He knows. And he promised to take care of it.

Where does he want to keep it-

His room.

There was a beat of silence, and Ben knew She was considering it. He could practically fucking feel Her brain thinking.

I’m worried he’ll crush it, Ben. She mumbled in Ben’s head. He’s so much better at controlling his strength now, but if something happens on accident, he won’t forgive himself. 

I know. But I’ll make sure that shit doesn’t happen. Ben watched Ryan carefully as he muttered to Her in the silence. I’ll carry it home, and Ryan and I can do some grip exercises to practice. He really fucking wants it, Sunshine. 

She let out a long, slow breath in the sounds of the store around them. Okay. He can have one. But it’s your ass if something happens to it, Benjamin.

Ben grunted an agreement, rolling his eyes at the air, but he knew She could feel his affection, warm and stupidly fucking gooey in his body. Feel the radiance over his ribs when he nodded an affirmation at Ryan, and the kid grinned so widely it made something in Ben’s chest goddamn explode with pride.

“Thank you!” Ryan bounced slightly on his toes, grabbing Ben into a tight hug. “I’ll take good care of it, I promise. Thank you-“

“You’re welcome, kid.” Ben grunted, because She’d punch him if he just dismissed Ryan’s thanks. “Let’s grab it and get home.”

Ryan didn’t stop smiling for the rest of the goddamn week. She didn’t stop smiling for the rest of the week. She got home from Her secret, kissed Ben with a bright, happy hum Ben could feel everywhere around him, and let Ryan drag Her upstairs to look at the turtle. 

“Oh, wow.” She titled Her head at it, crouching next to the tank with Ryan watching Her nervously. “That’s adorable, Ry. Have you named it?”

“Um, maybe? I’m not sure it’s a good name-“

“What is it?”

Ben could hear Ryan’s heart stutter nervously. “Bowser?”

She laughed. An amused, perfect, easy laugh with a pretty smile and nod that made Ryan’s heart ease, and Ben’s entire existence so fucking good. 

“I like it.” She nudged Ryan’s shoulder with her’s, still watching the turtle. “It looks like a Bowser. And if we get a cat we can name it Koopa.”

Ben glared at Her. “We are not getting a fucking cat, Sunshine.”

“Fine,” She smiled at him, pretty eyes sharp and amused on his, full of love Ben could feel in the whole goddamn world. “A dog.”

He rolled his eyes, Her smile only grew, and Ben couldn’t find it in himself to be really, truly pissed. She was too fucking perfect for that. Everything was too fucking perfect for that lately. Because the next week passed in a blur, and it was almost all perfect, happy shit like this. It was kissing Her and helping Ryan wrap his gifts, eating dinner with his goddamn family every night, talking to them and watching tv with them and laughing with them.

Even work wasn’t entirely fucking dogshit. Kimiko and Frenchie were just a weird as before, but Ben was used it by now, and he’d even started to pick up some of that sign language shit. Enough to understand what gestures were names and when Kimiko was asking him a basic question about Her or Ryan. How they were doing—really fucking good—and if She would be picking Ben up from work. On office days She usually did, and they were always there for an extra damn hour as She and Kimiko got caught in a conversation, Ben and Frenchie standing awkwardly off to the side.

But Ben had adapted to that as well. Learned how to talk to Frenchie more, enough to ask him for a favor. A favor for Her that Frenchie had said yes to without hesitation, and they’d been working on for about two weeks now. 

And everything was really damn good.

If every rogue supe in the country didn’t take a fucking break until New Years, Ben was going to start killing people again. 

His whole damn day had been spent in the car. Four hours to New York and back, half the time it had taken to do the actual fucking mission. And the only reason they weren’t in and out of that in twenty minutes was because the bitch had decided to run, and she didn’t have a no-murder rule. And Ben was fucking busy. They had to get their tree today, Ryan had to be picked up from school, and Ben had to talk to Her about what the fuck they were going to do about Butcher’s gift.

He wished She was here. She’d have backed the Ice Lady—or Queen or Countess or Duchess, Ben couldn’t be fucked to remember—into a corner in ten damn minutes, and they wouldn’t have had to use Frenchie’s dogshit flamethrower to sedate the bitch and get her into the van. She wouldn’t have sneered and mocked the SFBI agents when they turned the Ice Lady in, or spilled coffee on their evidence for arrest, dragging out the process another forty minutes. She wouldn’t have missed the exit off the goddamn highway.

Actually, if Ben was being honest about the woman he loved, She probably would have missed the exit. She was amazing at fucking everything, but not driving. 

But She was also fucking fast. Ben would’ve been home a damn hour ago if She had gone with them. 

He wouldn’t have been ten minutes late to pick up Ryan either.

He hadn’t stop to change when Butcher dropped him back home. He’d grabbed the keys and fucking booked it to the school. Ryan would be okay by himself until Ben got there—and Ben would explain, because the kid wasn’t allowed to think She and Ben would ever fucking forget about him—and She hadn’t reached down the connection to ask why the hell Ben was late, so everything was fucking fine. Butcher and his reminders about getting the Ice Lady paperwork in before Friday could shove it, because anyone could fill out a damn form, and Ben might have been the one who actually caught Ice Lady, but Kimiko had been right goddamn next to him. If it was that fucking critical, she could do it. Ryan was more important. 

He didn’t bother to lock the car when he parked it. The time it took to get Ryan wasn’t long enough to hot-wire, and if anyone tried to steal Ben’s property, he’d throw them onto the roof. And Ben’s property was a frost-bitten jacket and gun. Only a dumb fucking pussy would try and jack a car that had a gun.

Picking Ryan up from school was always a fucking trial. It was a nice school—She’d found it, working her perfect fucking ass off to make sure they treated Ryan like any other damn kid—and most of the kids weren’t entirely little shits, but Ben was one more goddamn incident from punching a parent. There were dumb ones, who seemed to think Ryan was some sort of fucking threat to their children, and the fucking pussies who’d been brainwashed by Vought and Homelander, who didn’t like Her. The school had received a petition to ban Her from school events, because She was a murderer and felon—She’d been fucking pardoned, and everyone She’d murdered goddamn deserved it—and She’d spent a handful of days quiet and hollow. Only eating when Ben put food in front of Her and told her to, only moving mechanically—her every gesture and breath over-controlled—and only sleeping when Ben held Her and ran his hands through her hair, muttering soothing words.

“You’re not a murder,” Ben had said Her name, kissing her brow as She clung to his chest and his whole fucking body felt ill. “You’re a good fucking person. Better than any of those pussies-“

“They’ve never,” She’d taken a long, slow breath, and curled her smoking hands in his shirt. “They’ve never killed anyone. Good people aren’t murders-“

“Good is respective.” He’d tugged lightly on Her hair, just enough for Her to look up at him. Pretty, sharp eyes that were glossy and heavy, that made something in Ben’s chest fucking contort and ache. “They’ve never had to kill Homelander, or Sage, or fight their fucking asses off to keep the damn world spinning. You did, and you didn’t ever fucking break.” He’d dropped his brow to Her’s, holding Her soft, tragic gaze. “You’re fucking perfect, and they’re just sad, weak fucking idiots.”

She’d nodded, letting out a strangled, slightly pleading sob, and Ben had understood. He’d just had to stay there, and hold Her until this passed. It always fucking passed, and Ben always stayed by Her side until it did. Until Her body went loose in his arms, and her hands drifted up to hold his face as she offered him a soft—but really fucking real—smile. 

“Subjective.” She’d whispered, playing with the hair of his beard. “Good is subjective.” Ben had rolled his eyes, and Her smile had grown. “Smartass.”

She’d hummed, guiding Ben’s lips down to her’s, kissing him until Her heart was at an even pace again, and Ben could breathe again. 

I’m your smartass, Pretty Boy.

Damn right you’re mine, he’d pulled Her lower lip between his teeth, smirking at Her breathy moan. I fucking love you, brat.

I love you too. She’d wrapped her arms around his neck, and Ben rolled them over, keeping Her safe and warm and happy under his body.

He’d kissed Her into the mattress until there weren’t any ghosts of horror over her beautiful features, until that presence of Her felt like a halo over his head. 

Am I allowed to kill them. He’d said between their heads when they’d separated, his weight dropped carefully over her body as She played with his hair and he rubbed circles on her skin. Just fucking one, Sunshine. Let me kill one.

Maybe one.

Her answer had been quick, and Ben had looked up at Her with a surprised grin. You’ve got a fucking name?

I didn’t say that-

Is it Pigtail’s dad-

No-

Puppy Pack’s mom-

Ben-

Glitter Glasses-

Benjamin. She’d whacked his chest, giving him a stern glare that didn’t even make him flinch, because that was Her glare when she wasn’t really mad at Ben, but was just being a too kind, too perfect miracle of a woman. Learn the children’s names.

He’d given Her a flat look. I’ll learn their dumbfuck names when they stop acting like Ryan’s got the fucking plague. Who is it.

You’re not allowed to say anything. Or kill anyone.

Ben had nodded, watching Her carefully as she took in a long breath, burying Her face as she answered.

You know the girl who always wears the leopard-print boots-

Yeah. Cat Boots.

Georgia, Ben. Her name is Georgia.

I don’t give a fuck what her name is. He’d frowned, scanning over her pretty, nervous pout. It’s her mom. Fake Face.

She’d flushed slightly. Maybe.

In the moment, Ben had just grunted, flipped them over, and fucked up into Her until she unraveled with bright eyes and needy moans above him. He’d praised Her and kissed Her until she was only happy, then made Her dinner and grumbled from across the table that, if She wanted, he would kill Fake Face. 

She’d dismissed him, because she was too fucking good and knew that Ben would carve himself open and crush his body under a million scalpels and boxes of gas before he left Her. 

Fake Face should count herself lucky that She was so kind and forgiving and perfect, and even more fucking lucky that Ben loved his wife more than goddamn anything. That Ben wasn’t going to kill anyone, because She’d be sad about it.

But Ben still really fucking wanted to kill Fake Face. She was a fucking annoyance, looked at Ben like he was some sort of slab of meant, and looked at Her like she was the scum of the goddamn earth, when this lady couldn’t hold a candle to Her. It was like comparing a burnt-out matchstick to the fucking sun, and Ben didn’t understand how anyone—even a jealous, dick-riding plastic bitch—could look at Her and not feel like they were seeing something holy.

Fake Face had introduced herself to Her and Ben the first time they’d picked up Ryan. There had been quick handshakes, sickly sweet words from Fake Face, and grunts from Ben as he’d pretended to listen, mostly frowning down at Her. She’d been clinging to Ben’s arm as Fake Face asked him if he was really as strong as the stories said, and She’d felt heavy and sick in Ben’s body.

What’s wrong. He’d muttered down the connection, and She’d shaken her head slightly. 

She hates me.

Ben had frowned at Fake Face, who was getting dangerously fucking close to touching him. Why the fuck would she hate you.

I don’t know. But touching her, it- She’d swallowed, nails digging into Ben’s arm. It felt someone was pressing a gun right against my brain. And my hands were itchy, and my skin felt wrong, and it was bad, Ben. I didn’t like it.

That had been enough for him. Ben had been happy to hate Fake Face just from how the bitch made his perfect, infinitely amused and kind wife look like She’d been kicked in the stomach. Then there had been more pickups. Pickups where it was just Her, or just Ben, and Fake Face seemed to have two separate personalities. With Her, she was crude and cold, and they’d figured out fast that the lady was, at least, a Vought supporter. Likely a Homelander supporter as well. And Ben had been ready to snap some fucking spines when the flirting had started. Unwelcome praise about how Ben was such a good man, for being there for Ryan—he’d defiantly tried to kill Ryan, only two years ago, but Fake Face seemed to forget about that part—and calling him Soldier Boy before correcting herself to Ben with fake giggle that hurt Ben’s ears, and the questions about how a man like him got mixed up in this whole mess.

It seemed like a pretty fucking simple answer. Ben had fucked up, and he’d repented, and now he was here. Still repenting, still with Ryan, always with Her.

Then Fake Face had called him Benjamin, and—after nearly breaking his jaw and her face—Ben had started being incredibly fucking careful with the timing of how he picked up Ryan, just to avoid this pest of a woman and her skin-crawling advances on him. He knew She did the same thing, and that enough made Ben’s blood feel fucking heated and wired.

He knew his reputation. He knew that he was a sex symbol, that he’d been the fuel of wet dreams for a damn near century. He also knew that, if he could, he’d rip all those fucking fantasies out of people’s minds on principle alone. Ben was fucking Her’s, and you couldn’t pay him with all the gold in the world to look anywhere but Her. It would be pointless anyway, because Ben couldn’t look away from Her if he fucking tried. She was everything beautiful in the universe, and then more. She was a force of goddamn nature, and alive in Ben’s body, and if his eyes were gauged out and his nose was cut off he’d still feel how fucking beautiful she was in a deep, critical part of his body near his heart.

Ben needed to figure out a way to shut Fake Face up for the rest of her fucking life. He wasn’t allowed to kill her, and they were still being careful around the school, so he couldn’t call her a plastic, disrespectful fucking bitch, and those were all his ideas.

He’d ask Her later. She’d have a way that didn’t end in having to explain to Neuman why they’d had to send a cleanup team to a high school. 

Right now Ben just needed to stand—rigid and taut—as Fake Face walked up to him with a well-crafted, sickening smile and he waited for Ryan to get the fuck back to the pickup spot. 

“Ben!” Fake Face chirped, bouncing to stand right fucking in front of Ben’s path. “I haven’t seen you at pickup all week-“

“My wife,” Ben grunted Her name, because he was going to say it at every damn possible opportunity. “She’s been doing it.”’

“Hm, well, I haven’t seen her-“

Well, She fucking hates you. “She’s fast. Busy.”

Fake Face hummed, tapping a finger to her chin in mock thought. “Ah, I understand. I’m a career woman as well, but my Georgia is always my top priority-“

Ben wasn’t allowed to kill the bitch. His fists were clenched and the glow in his chest would just have to be slightly released to disintegrate Fake Face, but Ben wasn’t allowed to kill her. “Ryan is our top priority.” Ben grunted. “She just doesn’t have time to fucking gossip.”

“I see. Does she have time for you, Ben?”

His vision was red, and he refused to fucking answer. If he answered, he’d spit and roar and draw attention. He didn’t fucking need attention. He needed to take his son home to pick up his wife, then take them both to get a Christmas Tree. A big one, that Ben would put stupid rainbow lights on and She and Ryan would smile at.

Fake Face seemed to realize Ben wasn’t going to respond, and switched the topic with only a slight cough. “Are you getting each other gifts for Christmas? My ex husband and I never did, he said that it was-“

“We are.” Ben snapped. “Her idea.”

It had been Her idea. She’d grabbed his face between her hands and said Benjamin, I love you very much, and if we don’t get each other stupid gifts for Christmas, I’ll kick you in the balls. 

“Oh, well, if you need gift ideas-“

Ryan walked out of the school with some of the best timing Ben had ever goddamn seen, and something bright bloomed over Ben’s ribs as Ryan’s face split into a wide smile.

“Ben!” He shouted, closing the remaining space in only a few steps and pulling Ben into a likely bone-breaking hug. “You’re here!”

“Of course I’m fucking here,” Ben muttered, holding Ryan until the kid decided he’d had enough. “Butcher’s just a slow dumbfuck. Let’s go.”

Ryan nodded, starting past Ben to the parking lot, and Ben had almost entirely forgotten about Fake Face until she was grabbing his bicep, and he had to tense his every muscle to halt his instinct to slam her fucking head to the floor.

“What the fuck are you-“

Fake Face was giving him that cheap, twisted smile and those syrupy fucking words, not at all caring how she’d damn near just been killed. “Jewelry.”

Ben scowled, jerking his arm fully from her touch. “Speak fucking clearly-“

“Ladies love jewelry.” Fake Face said, giving Ben a pout that made her look constipated. “I’m sure your wife would love some.” Ben fucking loathes the way she said wife. Like it was a lie and not the only thing he’d ever been sure of. “And I’d love to help you pick some out for her.”

Ben looked Fake Face dead in the eye, not bothering to contain his disgust for her and that awful proposition, and never bothering to hide the sheer fucking pride and love that existed in his body for Her. He hoped She felt it back home, where Ben could sense her, peaceful and content and likely wearing one of Ben’s shirts. Maybe She’d ask Ben what he was doing, and he’d get to hear Her voice. Tell Her how he was defending her honor. 

“She doesn’t wear jewelry.” He snapped, his eyes narrowing. “She’d fucking burn it off when I made her cum. Waste of money.”

Fake Face gaped, and Ben didn’t bother to wait for her to speak before he marched after Ryan, clasping him on the shoulder and steering him fully back to the car. He might have just made shit worse. Ben knew there was a possibly that Fake Face would think he’d been flirting, and would keep trying stupid fucking moves. But Ben was pretty sure he’d also made it real fucking clear that he wasn’t planning on fucking anyone but Her ever again. That was the whole point of marrying Her. Making Her and the rest of the world really fucking get that they belonged to each other, and anyone who tried to take them away from each other should be prepared to face the goddamn consequences. Consequences Fake Face better fucking understand, because Ben was weak compared to Her. Everyone was weak compared to Her. If She wanted to, she could burn out the sky. 

If She had been present for that conversation, Fake Face might have ended up a husk of a bitch on the pavement. It was why Ben only told Her about this shit when they were in their room, where all She’d do is scowl and pout and glare at him, then start to climb up Ben’s body as She kissed him like she was trying to leave a mark. She knew there wasn’t a damn thing to worry about—Ben made fucking sure of it—but that didn’t stop Her from grinding in his lap or clawing at his chest when he finger fucked Her.

It was just another fucking perfect thing about Her. How She was a terrifyingly brilliant, sharp woman who adored the whole world, and She went slack and blissful under only Ben’s touch. How She wanted him, wanted Ben so fucking much she’d get all fucking angry at the idea of him being looked at.

“You’re a fucking person,” She’d grumbled once, Her face buried in Ben’s chest. “It’s, it’s rude-“

“I’m well fucking aware that I’m a person,” Ben had drawled Her name, tilting her chin up so she could see his teasing smirk. “I think you’re just possessive.”

She’d flushed. “I’m not possessive-“

“You are.” Ben had muttered, and leaned down to ghost one, soft kiss over her lip. “It’s fucking hot.”

It was. It made Ben’s whole body buzz and hum and fucking glow, that he was wanted enough for Her to be possessive. Not his body or name or image, Ben. Ben was fucking loved enough that She lost her damn mind when people acted like he was just a face. And then She’d turn around a call him Pretty Boy, and beg him to fuck Her, and it was so much goddamn better because She was the one doing it. 

And Ben fucking loved Her. His whole fucking life was Her and Ryan. His whole damn purpose wasn’t Fake Face, it was finally getting that fucking tree. It was letting Ryan chose the tree—as long as it was a proper, green, massive fucking pine tree, Ben didn’t fucking care what it looked like—and telling Her about Fake Face as She was tucked into his side. It was making fun of that bitch with Her, and setting up the tree when they got home so Ben could get the lights up. It was seeing how beautiful She’d be into the shifting colors, how She’d probably look like some sort of fucking siren or painting when she was cast in shadows under the glow.

It was about finally having something so fucking good, and caring for it, and never goddamn losing it.

“How was school, kid.” Ben asked, dropping behind the wheel as Ryan pulled his buckle on. “Any shit I should know about-“

“No!” Ryan shook his head, his smile never faltering. “It was a really good day, Ben. We’re learning about Feudal Japan, did you know one of the first ever novels was written by a handmaiden?”

“No, I don’t fucking read. But,” Ben pushed on, before Ryan even had a chance to frown. “I damn near didn’t finish school. You’re a hell of a lot fucking smarter than that. Keep talking.”

Ryan didn’t keep talking, and when Ben glances at him he had a soft, nervous expression.

“What-“

Ryan mumbled Her name. “She said not to let you call yourself stupid.”

Ben snorted. “Fucking sounds like her. I’m fine kid-“

“But you’re not stupid!” Ryan protested. “You taught me how to use my powers! And how to grill! And about chemicals! I passed my science test because of that.” Ben could see Ryan’s chest puff slightly in his periphery. “Mr. Kline said he’d never seen someone eat the samples, not need to go to the nurse, and get a hundred percent.”

It was hard for Ben to fight the small grin on his face, and damn near impossible to stop the flash of pride through his body. “Fine. Tell me about the stupid fucking book.”

Ryan seemed satisfied, launching into a history lesson Ben really fucking tried to listen to, but didn’t understand a damn word of. He was practiced at this, though. Between Her and Ryan, Ben was a fucking master at grunting at all the right moments, nodding and shrugging like he got what they were saying, and letting them tire themselves out. Then he’d ask a few questions because it made their faces light up with joy, stash a few of their answers just to prove that really did fucking try. For them, Ben would always fucking try.

And She must have felt it. How Ben’s entire body was focused on Her, on Ryan, because She became colorful and alive around his head as Her perfect, musical voice hummed in his head.

You’re late, Benjamin. 

Blame Butcher and Ice Lady.

Ice Lady?

Ice Lady. Ben repeated, frowning into the air. With the fucking ice-

Powers? Ice Lady with the ice powers? Ben could almost see Her pretty, teasing smile, and he rolled his eyes.

Brat.

Cunt. What did Butcher do?

Asshole was pussying around when we turn Ice Lady over. Made me fucking late to get Ryan.

But you-

I got him. Ben glanced over to Ryan, who had settled into his seat with an easy silence, bobbing his head slightly to the radio. He’s good.

Did you-

No incidents. Said today was good.

And-

He told me about his classes. Going well. Ben smirked at the road. Your faith in me is fucking astounding, Sunshine.

She scoffed between their heads. Fuck you, Ben, I’m just worried about him-

He’s fine. And I’d be happy to fuck you, beautiful, but you’re going to have to keep it together until tonight. Think you’ll survive?

You’re such an asshole. 

You love me.

I do, you dummy. She sighed in the hum of the engine. Drive faster. I’m bored.

Ben grunted, and pressed the pedal down. He’d still be safe—Ryan was in the car, and Ben’s own need to see Her didn’t outweigh the kid’s safety—but he wanted to get the fuck home. Back to Her.

She was waiting in the driveway when they pulled in. Ben hadn’t even stopped the car when she moved to stand at the driver’s side, hugging herself as She waited.

She looked so fucking happy. Just as beautiful as She’d always been, just as perfect, but fucking happy. Bouncing slightly on Her toes as Ben grunted that Ryan should go put his shit away before they left, smiling at them through the window in such an easy, natural way it made Ben’s chest feel soft. Made him goddamn glow.

He’d barely stepped out of the car when She was on him. Pulling Ben down by his shirt into a long, deep kiss, sighing into his mouth when he picked Her up off the ground, and wrapping Her arms around his neck when they pulled apart.

“Hi,” She whispered, her smile all joy and adoration that made Ben fucking high. “Ready to get a tree?”

“Fucking born it.” Ben nipped at Her nose, carefully setting Her back down on the pavement. “I’m driving.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “You can’t stop me-“

Ben gave Her an amused, flat look. “I could very fucking easily stop you, Sunshine.”

Her eyes narrowed as he raised his brows in a silent challenge. Big talk, Pretty Boy- 

You know it’s not just talk, beautiful. He winked at Her, holding Her gaze. You’re not fucking driving.

But-

No. Ben kissed Her brow, grinning against her skin. Not a chance in damn hell.

Asshole.

Yep.

She rolled her eyes, leaning into his side and frowning at the front door of their house. Is Ryan okay? I know you said he had a good day-

He’s fine, Ben muttered Her name, shifting her against his chest and wrapping his arms around Her stomach. Fucking bounced out of the school like it was his damn birthday. Saved my ass as well.

Saved your ass? She tilted Her head back, frowning up at him. What-

Fake Face. Ben grunted, and She sighed. I still think you should let me fucking kill the bitch-

No murder, Ben. Not very Christmas spirit of you. She tapped her fingers on his arm, offering him a small smile. And I kind of like that these are our problems now. I can handle someone throwing themselves at you. And I get it. 

Ben raised his brows. You get it?

Yeah. She shrugged, dropping Her head back on his shoulder, and Ben could feel all Her love rushing through his body. I mean, you’re very fucking pretty, my love. I’d throw myself at you.

He snorted. No, you fucking wouldn’t.

Yes I would-

Don’t lie, Sunshine. Ben held Her pouting glare with a smirk. You never fucking threw yourself at me, you barely damn liked me. 

I liked you, She mumbled between their heads. I love you, Ben-

I love you too, brat, but you were never that pathetically annoying and desperate. You never fucking needed to be, he squeezed his arms around Her, kissing her brow and muttering Her name in the wind. You already have me.

She smiled at him, kissing the underside of his jaw. Very romantic, Benjamin.

He rolled his eyes, dropping his face to Her neck, sucking on that one spot. Shut up.

Even as She molded into him, whimpering slightly as Ben kissed up her neck and behind her ear, Ben knew She was fucking right. It was a damn good thing that the worst shit in their lives right now was Fake Face and Ryan getting changed so damn slowly. Not life or death, no screaming or blood, just Her swaying in Ben’s arms and his whole body feeling fucking alive in her presence. And neither of those worst things would be difficult to deal with. Fake Face was just an annoying bitch, and Ryan was finished in the next five minutes. Ben lived a life where he could kiss his wife until She was slack jawed and glossy eyed, guide her into the passenger’s seat of their care, and get his family out of the driveway before She had a chance to start thinking again. Now the worst problems were that they needed that goddamn tree, and Ben had to ignore Her pretty glare as he drove them to the farm.

You cheated. She grumbled in his head, playing with his hand in Her’s, and Ben smirked.

I don’t have a damn clue what you’re talking about, Sunshine. I’d never fucking cheat, I’m a goddamn gentleman-

Fuck you-

Not with Ryan in the car, darling. Ben’s grin became toothy and wide as She stuck her tongue out at him, his attention turning to Ryan’s pale face in the rearview mirror. “You good back there, kid?”

“Yeah, I’m just, um-“ Ryan swallowed, his heart a little uneven. “I’ve never gotten a Christmas tree before? Do we have to do anything?”

She twisted in Her seat, giving Ryan a sweet smile and soft words. “You don’t have to do anything. If you see one you like, tell us, and we’ll take care of the rest of it.”

Ben squeezed Her thigh as he glanced back at Ryan. “It’s real damn easy, kid. You’ll be fine.”

“What if I, what if I pick the wrong one-“

“It’s a fucking tree.” Ben gave Ryan a firm look through the mirror. “Long as it fits in the house and has branches, it can’t be wrong.”

Ryan nodded slowly. “Mom always got lights for our tree-“

“We got lights, Ryan.” 

She blinked at Ben. “We do? When did we-“

“Last week.” He grunted. “When you were off doing your mystery shit.” Which you still haven’t fucking told me about-

And I won’t until it’s relevant, Pretty Boy. “Ryan,” She frowned into the air, tapping Her finger’s over Ben’s hand. “Was that enough for shopping? Because I need to go back to Best Buy for Secret Santa-“

Ben shot Her a look, his brows drawn together. “I thought you finished that shit.”

“No, I got your gift,” She gave him a sweet smile. “This is for-“ She cut herself off, and Ben rolled his eyes. She wasn’t fucking fooling him, she’d been nowhere close to slipping up. “I can’t tell you-“

“Shut the fuck up, Sunshine.” He raised Her hand to her mouth, pressing a kiss to Her knuckles. “Ryan, tell her about that book shit.”

Ryan’s face lit up, and Ben only got a light whack on his knee as she twisted to listen to Ryan’s repeated lecture about the Japanese lady and her book. She’d, apparently, already fucking known about the book, because of fucking course She did. The rest of the car ride was a conversation Ben tried—and fucking failed—to keep up with, and when they parked the sun had already dropped out of the sky, leaving them some of the last fuckers wandering the farm. 

It was better like that. Ryan could wander—Ben keeping a careful ear on his heartbeat—Ben could keep Her tucked safely under his arm as She lit a careful fire in her palm, and none of them had to worry about invasive fucking pussies trying to talk to them. Ryan and Ben could even throw snow at each other without worrying about accidentally murdering someone. 

“If I get hit,” She mumbled, her head leaning on Ben’s chest. “I’ll kick your ass, Pretty Boy.”

Ben snorted, another ball of snow already in his fist as he scanned over the tree line, waiting for Ryan’s next strike. “What if fucking Ryan hits you, you’re not going to kick his ass-“

“Is it Ryan’s job to protect me?”

Ben gave Her an amused grin as she blinked at him with fake fucking innocence. “You’ve got a smart fucking mouth, brat-“

She shrugged. “You love it- Ben!”

He’d hauled Her up his chest, swallowing her squeak of surprise with a deep, sloppy kiss and turning his body to take the bullet of Ryan’s snowball.

“Fuck, Ben, I’m sorry-“

She and Ben both pulled back from each other with wide eyes, and Ben grunted as She half-climbed up his body to stare at Ryan. 

“Did you just say fuck?”

“Um,” Ryan’s voice was far too damn nervous, his heart rapid, and when Ben adjusted his body to see the kid, he was flushed and gaping. “I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry-“

“I’m not mad, Ry,” She pushed out of Ben’s hold, offering Ryan a reassuming smile. “I just didn’t expect it.”

“Am I,” Ryan looked between Her and Ben with wide eyes. “Am I allowed to swear-“

“Of course you’re fucking allowed to swear,” Ben grunted, pulling Her back under his arm. “Do we look like goddamn hypocrite pussies to you, kid?”

“No?”

“Then swear as much as you fucking want. But,” Ben raised a finger, narrowing his eyes at Ryan. “You have to go find that tree.”

Ryan nodded, and his heart sounding a little more steady, and bounced back into the trees.

When Ben looked back to Her, she was smiling at him. A real, loving, soft smile that made Ben’s whole body pound and riot with Her. Just fucking Her. 

What-

You’re a good dad, Ben. Her smile widened, so fucking adoring it might kill him.

It’s not that big a damn deal-

No. She held Ben’s hand over her shoulders, letting him guide them after Ryan. It is. You’re an amazing, handsome, grumpy old dad. Ryan and I are very lucky to have you.

Ben only grunted, because he was fucking lucky to have them. For them to forgive him enough to let him stay, to offer him their trust and love when they were the only two, truly fucking good people in the world. Whatever.

She glared at him, but let it go, and they walked in silence for another few minutes—Ben’s whole existence only Her and Ryan’s heartbeats, just as fucking calm as they should always be—until she tugged on his arm.

I got an early gift for you, by the way.

What-

Butcher. I figured out what you can get him. I’ll show you when we get home.

Ben frowned into the dark. You’re getting his, and mine, and your secret fucker, and shit for Ryan.

Yeah. She shrugged. But those last three were really easy.

He raised his brows. Your secret shit was easy.

She hummed. Yep. My person’s really predictable, and loud about what they like. You just have to be around them for five minutes and you’d have figured it out as well.

It’s MM.

I’m not going to tell-

Annie.

Ben-

Hughie.

She sighed. Ben, I’m not telling you.

Ben narrowed his eyes at Her. It’s fucking Hughie.

I said I’m not telling you, cunt. She whacked his chest lightly. So shut the fuck up and drop it.

It was defiantly fucking Hughie. And Ben would’ve gotten Her to admit it—with enough teasing words, grumbled praise, and long kisses Ben could get Her to tell him fucking anything—but Ryan reappeared with a wide, bright expression.

“I found it!” He bounced on his toes, grinning between Her and Ben. “It’s that way, and it’s really big and spiky.”

She nodded, tilting Her head at the direction Ryan had pointed to. “Ben, if you go with Ryan, I can go find the tree-cutter people-“

Ben scoffed, keeping Her pressed against his side. “Don’t be fucking insane, Sunshine. Let’s go, kid.”

Ryan glanced at Her—Her attention focused on Ben with a heat he could feel over his ribs—but started walking, Ben pulling Her after him.

Ben-

I can get the tree, he muttered Her name, glancing down as he squeezed his hold on Her. We don’t need some pussy with a fucking saw.

Are you-

I’m fucking positive. He kissed the top of her head. Trust me.

She sighed, but nodded, and grew loose and easy in Ben’s body.

And he was right. Ryan presented the tree to them—he’d done a damn good job, and when Ben told him so the kid lit up like the fucking sun—and Ben barely grunted as he ripped it out of the ground.

He started moving without a damn word, supporting it on one shoulder, and smirked at Her open, pretty fucking gape as he twined his free hand into Her’s. Her heart was fluttering in Her chest, her beautiful face slack with need, and Ben felt something in his chest try to pound out of him, into Her.

Don’t fucking drool, Sunshine. He winked at Her, waiting for Ryan to be in his view before he started the walk back, and She just swallowed, Her voice breathless between their heads.

Fuck you-

I will, darling. When we get home I’ll throw you around as much as you fucking want. He shifted his grip on the tree, and felt his dick twitch as She half slumped into his body, her gaze pure fucking love and want. Swear it.

Ben never got to throw Her around. She’d nodded, tugging Ben to walk a little faster, and paid for the tree with  fingers tapping on the counter, but they’d barely made it halfway back to the house before She was asleep in the car. It wasn’t even that fucking late, but Ben saw Her body slump in the passenger’s seat—Her presence in his head turning into a natural, eternal and peaceful glow of beauty—and heard Her heartbeat slow a moment later. When he glanced in the rearview mirror, Ryan was knocked the fuck out as well, and he smiled. 

He left the tree on the roof when they got home, and got them both to bed. He unbuckled Ryan first—She’d kill Ben if he left Ryan in the cold car alone—and carried him up to his room with careful steps. 

“Ryan,” he muttered, setting the kid carefully on the bed. “Ryan, wake the fuck up.”

Ryan’s eyes blinked open, still clouded with sleep. “Ben, wha…” He trailed off with a yawn, and Ben sighed.

“Need to get changed, kid. And brush your teeth.”

“What’s goin’ on-“

“You’re going to bed.” Ben grunted. “But you’re not doing it in fucking ice-covered clothing. Change.”

Ryan nodded slowly, starting to shuffle around the room, and Ben returned to the car.

She was so fucking beautiful. There were glittering drops of melted snow on Her eyelashes, and her mouth was parted as a small amount of drool fell from Her perfect lips. He swiped his thumb over it, She barely stirred, and Ben realized she was knocked the fuck out. And he wouldn’t be waking Her up for the fucking world.

Ben carried Her upstairs—just as he’d done with Ryan—but when he reached their room he set Her down carefully, and stripped her himself. Careful slow movements that didn’t disturb her, changing Her into his shirt—not bothering with underwear—and tucking Her under their covers before going to check on Ryan.

The kid had passed out without turning his lights off or getting under the covers. Ben fixed both of those things, brushed some hair from Ryan’s forehead, and checked on that stupid fucking turtle so Ryan wouldn’t wake up to it dead. It was sleeping under a sun lamp with a damn worry in the world, and had more than enough food to last into the next three damn years. Ryan had been keeping his word, and the thing was growing like a fucking monster. And the kid seemed to damn love it, so Ben gave it a little fucking extra food as a silent, stupid thanks for doing whatever the hell it was doing to make Ryan smile.

She was still asleep when Ben returned. Curled into his side of the bed, Her face pressed into his pillow, and soft, incoherent mumbles falling out of Her mouth until Ben joined Her. She let out a blissful sigh as he pulled Her into his arms and tangled his legs with Hers, her pretty face buried in his chest and that flower shampoo she used like a goddamn drug. Making his body relax, because it was right where it should be, and his brain lull into an easy sleep.

Easy fucking sleep he’d get to wake up from in the morning without screams or tears, with his perfect wife still clinging to his body and all Her love alive inside of him. She’d get that promised fucking when She woke up as well, and he’d make everyone pancakes for breakfast, then drive Ryan to school. He’d grab the tree when he got back, wait for Ryan to get home before he put up the lights, and She’d watch them both with a smile before telling Ben what he should get Butcher.

Then it would be Christmas, and he’d get to give Her his goddamn amazing gift, and She’d kiss him, and everything would be so fucking good.

Ben’s life was really fucking good.

End Note: I don’t care if they don’t sell turtles at Costco in my universe they do.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

If you want to be tagged, just ask! (Separate from main taglist)

Taglist

@manicjk @lordofthunderthr @artemys-ackles @brtodd @ej13928

@deansbbyx @generalmoonpolice

[wood-white-writer]

"Didn't mean to make your heart Blue" || [3/...]

- OPLA!Buggy x F!Reader

"And I am the idiot with the painted face, in the corner taking up space. But when he walks in, I am loved."

— Mitski, "Me and My Husband"

Pairing: Buggy the Clown (Live action) x F!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Summary: You were an apprentice of Gol D. Roger’s crew in your youth, long before his eventual demise. Along with the Red-Haired Shanks and Buggy, you were a formidable trio; the embodiment of a new generation of pirates yet to come. But times changed, and so did you and your friends. Years have passed since you last saw Buggy following the dispute that you thought ended your friendship. When you finally reunite with the blue-haired menace you once considered your closest friend, it’s under less than “friendly” circumstances.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, LA!Verse, Buggy is a lonely asshole, flashbacks, semi-canon divergence, Reader is strong AF,

A/N: I forgot to mention this before, but I guess this technically does hold some spoilers from the manga/anime. Keep in mind, I've not seen/read either piece, so it's merely used to give their stories some background.

Taglist: @kurinhimenezu, @carpinchootaku (If you want to be tagged for this story, just send me a message or comment :))

Fuck, fuck, fuck, where the fuck are you?

After some time of searching, Buggy finds you sitting by the docks, your feet gently swaying with the waves, almost free of any earthbound weight. He’d join you if he could, but he’s not brave enough to get too close to the waters yet.

However, he’s content enough to just watch you from a safe distance. The sky is free of clouds and the moon is full, which illuminates your shape like a bright lantern in the night.

Beautiful, that's what he thinks you are. In fact, that's what he's been thinking for a while now, not that he's ever told you that to your face. He wonders when he stopped looking at you like something more than a friend. 

Maybe it was when he caught you smiling at him after you'd successfully managed to steal a bottle of fine rum from the local bar, and you both ended up getting blackout drunk on the ship deck?

Maybe it was when he saw you win a round of arm-wrestling against one of your other crewmates, despite being significantly younger than the opponent.

Maybe it was when you beat a guy black and blue for making fun of his nose in public, with both him and Shanks cheering you on from a safe distance? 

It doesn’t matter when it was. What matters is that, for a while, he has found it difficult to take his eyes off you. Even if it’s just a peek, it usually takes him a while to force his attention on something else.

The rest of the crew are on the Oro Jackson, celebrating their recent endeavors, yet here you are, celebrating on your own. He finds it odd; you’re usually happy to participate in any celebrations with the crew, but you’ve decided to be here instead. It was your absence on deck that prompted Buggy to go looking for you.

The wind picks up and he can feel goosebumps spread across his skin like wildfire. He shivers and tugs his jacket tighter around himself, and that’s when he notices that you’re not wearing any additional clothing to stave off the cold in the night.

He finally calls out to you, a little throaty for reasons he refuses to disclose aloud. “You’re gonna get a cold like that, dumbass! You wanna get pneumonia and die or something?”

You subsequently turn around to face him, and his breath gets caught in his throat. Your sharp eyes, when caught in the moonlight, sparkle like a thousand treasures — compiled of gold, diamonds, and millions and millions of berries — holed up in two caves.

Smiling in the way that makes his pulse quicken, you proceed to wave your feet in the water. A few drops land on your arms, sparkling in the air before landing on the skin of your arms. “I don’t think so? If we get to the South Pole, maybe there’s a higher risk?”

He frowns and crosses his arms over his chest. “The North Pole is colder!”

“Ah, well,” you snicker. “In that case, then I’m not likely to get pneumonia unless we’re there.”

“You can still get cold! What are you, a moron?” 

For someone who can’t keep his eyes off you for extended periods, that doesn’t keep him from being rather crass in terms of vocabulary with you. That’s alright. You’ve never been one to appreciate honeyed words if your frequent bickering with both him and Shanks says something.

With another swing of your legs, you reestablish contact with with wooden platform and make your way over to him. That’s when he finally realises that you haven’t brought your shoes with you, but you don’t seem bothered by it. “By the way, what’re you doing here, Buggy?“

He considers telling you a simple lie that won’t clash with what he knows to be the truth. He was coincidentally going for a walk, he needed some air, he was purposefully looking for you…

“Noticed you weren’t on the ship,” he finally settles on with a hmph. “Had to make sure you hadn’t accidentally up and drowned or something. You’re a shitty swimmer,”

“Not as shitty as you,” you counter and blow him a raspberry. 

He’s about to tell you to fuck off or something when, again, he finds himself pausing. 

You’re smiling at him, so softly, and it feels so warm that the wind no longer has any effect on him. He can feel his cheeks scorch up and his heart is pounding so hard that it feels on the verge of breaking his ribs.

He hastily looks away and coughs a couple of times, trying to maintain what little dignity he has left.

“Are you alright?” You ask with faux concern. “Did you just catch pneumonia or something?”

“S-Screw you!”

You laugh, and it’s like music to his ears. Your laughs are usually raspy and hardly appropriate, but he finds that it’s the prettiest sound in the world. Your smile, your laugh, they are so warm that he hopes that you’ll never stop making them.

Out of the blue, you wrap an arm around his shoulder and begin tugging him on the path to the ship. “Come on, before they leave us behind.”

“Y-Yeah, let’s.” He doesn’t move to tug your arm away, and no power on this earth will make him.

------

Now that he's closer to the kid, Buggy realizes the stupidity of asking if he was yours. The two of you are nothing alike, but the truly defining factor lies in your eyes. Rubber Boy's eyes are too bright, too round. Whereas yours are knives ready to strike, his' are simple spoons.

He begrudgingly has to hand it to the kid; he's a fearless one. Even stretching his limbs beyond human capabilities does not diminish his spirit. Buggy doesn't know whether to applaud or reject the determination the boy has.

"I want you to think of this, like an artistic exercise," he explains. "Because pain leads to art, and art reveals truth."

He can't hear any commotion from the backrooms where he keeps you contained. Truth be told, he never expected it to keep you for long, only detain you for a limited amount of time. If he wants to both get the map and keep his life in one go, he is going to have to try and get it without necessarily ruining the kid too much.

Still, it doesn't keep him from testing the lines. He tries to pry the answers out with a needle, but no matter what he does, the kid remains infuriatingly mute. 

So, he decides to dig a little deeper.

"Now, what makes a boy want to grow up to be King of the Pirates? Who are you trying to impress?" He tilts his head with inquisitiveness. "A lost love?"

On cue, he can vaguely make out a gnarling sound coming from the back rooms. The sound of chains rattling, which he perceives as you probably moving in the enclosure. He thinks about sending someone to check on you and find out what you're up to, but he does not want the number of supporting casts to reduce.

"An absent parent?" He continues, ignoring the noises as he closes in on the boy. "Or was it someone that you worshipped? A false idol."

Try as he might, the boy fails to feign any indifference to him. A master of performance himself, Buggy knows when he's hit his target "That's it."

He yanks the dumb straw hat off his head, and the boy's protests against it further dig a nail into the coffin. "Give me back my hat!"

"I used to know a pirate that wore a hat just like this." Buggy's grip on the feeble thing drastically tightens as memories of the past resurface. "Red-Haired Shanks."

"You knew Shanks?"

"Ginger? Three scars, left eye?" Of course, how could he not know of the bastard? "We served together on a pirate crew when we were about your age. In fact," he glances at the boy from over his shoulder. "Your friend, Cross-Hairs over there, was with us at the time."

The kid blinks in confusion, clearly not aware of this little piece of information. "I knew she served with Shanks, but she never mentioned you."

In all honesty, it doesn't surprise him, yet he still perceives this as a slight against him from your side. The underlying hypocriticism in that doesn't evade his notice, but he elects not to address it. 

Buggy can feel the straws under his digits lightly crack beneath the pressure of his grip. "She did, but before then, it was the three of us. For a time, I even thought we were friends." His nail pierces a hole through the inside of the hat. "Until they betrayed me, like all the others. He wanted to keep me out of the spotlight! He wanted to keep my star from shining too brightly!"

"They wouldn't do that," Rubber Boy is quick to protest, rather vehemently too as if Buggy just insulted his entire lineage. "You don't know her, and you don't know Shanks. Don't talk about them that way."

"I bet I know her far better than you do, Rubber Boy." He smirks and raises a knowing eyebrow at the kid. "Does she still snatch specifically red apples off vendors when you're in town? Does she still tend to store her knives in her boots when she thinks no one's looking?"

The kid doesn't have to answer. His silence is all the confirmation he needs, and it makes him feel victorious in some sense. 

"Let me ask you something else, then. How'd the famous Captain of the Cross-Haired Pirates get stuck with a simple-minded nobody like you? What did you do that was so special that she decided to stick around until now?" 

The damn brat doesn't answer.

He presses on. "Apparently, she made a promise to someone, and though I have a sneaking suspicion as to whom, I don't want to jump the gun." He grasps harshly at the kid's face, no longer smiling. "You know, and if you tell me, I might be convinced to lessen the restraints."

The damn brat still doesn't fucking answer, and it vexes him greatly. Even so, if there's one thing he's learned, it's that the kid's silence can be substituted for an answer.

So, he finally asks the billion-berry question: 

"Was it Shanks?"

Rubber Boy does not answer. He doesn't fucking answer, and Buggy's patience snaps like a twig.

You would be willing to go through all of this trouble, to keep the kid safe and help him achieve his dream, just because you made a silly promise to what was once your mutual friend. You would give up your career as one of the most successful pirates in the modern age, just for that?

Just for him?

Deep down, he feels something carve at him. Carve at the boyish version of him he left behind the same day he left you. Would you have been just as loyal to him as you were to Shanks, if only he stayed?

He does not voice these thoughts aloud. Instead, he can't help but beam, because everything he's theorized up until this point has just been verified. It aches, and it hurts, and it cuts, but even so, he can only smile down at the boy.

"Stretch him until he breaks." 

------

Although you hear a commotion coming from the stage room, and despite the urge you have to just break out and be done with this all, you deliberately remain in your cage. One leg pulled up to your chin whereas the other one rests uncomfortably on the stale ground boards, you do nothing more than let your temper simmer down.

Honestly, what a mess.

You made one thing perfectly clear to Shanks the day you agreed to disband your crew and keep watch on the boy. It had not even been a week after he returned to the docks of Fooshia Village, one arm short and the boy by his side.

------

"I am not his parent. I will not be held responsible for the mistakes he makes when he decided to leave land. I will only keep him alive until I decide he can do that himself; after he's earned his first bounty. After that, I'm off."

"And what will you do after?" he had asked, genuinely curious.

You didn't answer, because you didn't know.

"Look after the lad for me, will you? Help him achieve his dream." He had taken your shoulder under his warm remaining hand and said:

"Maybe one day, you'll find your own."

------

If you'd known that Luffy's dream would one day lead you back to him, you would've been more reluctant to make that promise. At the time, you had little interest in picking up the shattered pieces of your childhood dream, yet it seems that now it has decided to search you out instead.

Or rather, he has.

Your head hurts.

This is not the time for heartfelt reunions if there ever was one. Buggy has only one goal in mind, and that is to get his hands on that damn map. Harming Luffy will serve as a means to an end in achieving that, which happens to clash with your goal. You're not Luffy's parent, you tell yourself, but you're willing to extend the promise to Shanks just this once.

And so, after some careful deliberation, you make your escape. 

You hit the metal once, and it bends significantly. Then twice, and on the third strikes, they bend and crack, finally granting you access to direct contact with the ground. It's never felt so relieving to be earthbound, and you even go as far as to tap your feet a few times to enrich that feeling.

Having most likely heard the noise, two troupe members march through the curtains to see what's going on. The first one barely has the time to register your escape before you lunge. 

You're quick to subdue them, knocking the first one out with an easy choke-hold whereas the other mysteriously ends up with half his body stuck in what remains of your previous confinement. His ass hangs out in a rather humiliating position, but the point is, he's out of the way. 

The adrenaline is the one part of piracy you've missed. The surge of energy that flows through your veins, feeling the air brush your face as you make your move, the warmth in your heart that substitutes any pain or hurt you've ever felt if only for a moment.

You relish it.

You happen to find your weapons in the room, hidden in some crates. Your knives and your pistol, are both unscathed and fully functional, but you know that you'll end up relying on your hands for this. After all, it's personal, and personal matters are handled in a personal way. 

When you're certain the two troupe members are of no concern to you, you exit the back rooms and find yourself in the opening between the audience rows shortly after. The lights have been killed and there's an ominous silence stretching in the atmosphere.

You look up at the terrified audience, and though you're almost in clear view of them, none dares stray away from the view up ahead. 

Said view in question being of Luffy halfway submerged by seawater in a tank, already struggling to keep himself afloat. 

Fuck this. Fuck him.

You don't even stop to coordinate your next move as, as you would've done under ordinary circumstances. No, the moment you spot Buggy standing there, trying to reason with the kid with the promise of belonging and having a place on his crew, you lunge for the kill.

------

All Buggy sees just as you make your move is a flash of sharp eyes that seem to glow in the dim room. There's no word upon your entrance, no sound, not a single warning at all. A shriek resonates through the air, shattering the silence that had unknowingly settled over them, and it's his own. 

The air gets knocked out of his lungs as you shove your fist straight into his stomach. Ordinarily, that specific portion of his would've just straight up dislodged itself from his body, but it doesn't this time. He remains intact, a contradiction to what you had threatened to do, and he falls back several good feet on his back like a kicked dog.

A raspy groan is all the noise he manages to get out, heaving his chest in search of the air that was stolen from him. He throws one arm to the ground and gets his upper body up. 

When he finally manages to somewhat stabilize his line of sight, all he sees as the world remains blurred around him is you standing over him with a dangerous glimmer in your eyes. One he's already familiar with.

This is not his old friend or his old flame crew member. This is Cross-Hairs, the feared captain of the vicious Cross-Haired Pirates. The Beast of the East. The one whose aim never misses, and if it does, she'll hunt her target down to the ends of the earth.

And now, he's officially become your target. No longer a passive one at that, but the only one your eyes are set on. He doesn't know if he's content or unnerved by this.

There are no palpable emotions on your face, but he can read your eyes well enough to know that you're angry. No, angry doesn't even begin to cover it; you're absolutely, positively, completely pissed. 

"What?" He forces out, still aching from the punch to his abdomen. "Going to make good on your promise? Going to finally kill me after all this time? If so, then just get on with it!"

You don't answer, and he hates it even more than he would've had you responded. A part of him wants you to kill him; wants you to show that you care enough about him to just fucking do it.

No, instead, all you give him is a glare. That same glare that's never left your face since he first laid his eyes on you. You turn your full attention to the tank and, with one simple hit, you break the glass to try and free Rubber Boy. You free him, without even a moment to hesitate, and it feels so much more painful than if you’d just ended him on the spot.

He wants to scream. Buggy wants to scream until his lungs give in. Scream at your inability to fully look at him. Scream at your apparent concern for a boy who is no more a pirate than he is a banker. 

Scream, because even after all this time, you still refuse to choose him.

Never him.

[letsdosciencetoit]

WIP Wednesday - BuckTommy AU - I'm Where the Spiders Go

Another snipped from my Season 1 Canon Divergent AU.

BuckTommy - finally fleshing out their first meeting, but still very much a work in progress.

Premise: Tommy never left the 118 and Buck was assigned to the 122 instead.

Tommy is ten hours into his four days off, and he’s feeling restless.  He’s cleaned his house, picked up groceries at the local farmers market, and changed the oil on is truck.  He’s been contemplating working up the courage to head out to West Hollywood to try his hands at one of the clubs/ He’s still having trouble wrapping his mind around being out in public, even in a relatively safe place.

He bites the inside of his cheek while he contemplates the takeout menus in his drawer.  It would be easy to order something, pick it up, and spend first his evening off watching one of the Hallmark Christmas Movies he has saved to his DVR from December.  He’ll watch something comforting and predictable and wake up in the exact same place he is right now.

His phone pings with a message – he opens it immediately and see’s Sal’s messaged him.

Sal: Silver Spoon at 7:30.  Few of my shift are going out. You in?

Tommy considers it, and he already knows he doesn’t want to spend the night at home alone.  He’ll go out, have drinks with a friend, and get out of his head for a few hours.  He even likes some of the people on Sal’s crew.  It’s a solid, non-nonsense group, quite unlike the family Captain Nash is starting to bring together a the 118.

Tommy: I’m in.  You’re getting the first round.

He has an hour to get ready before he needs to head out.  He takes a quick shower, adds some gel to his hair, and throws on a henley and a pair of dark jeans that don’t have grease stains.  He makes a quick protein shake, and chokes it down before he has to head out the door.  He’ll have something more substantial when he gets to the pub.

He drives to the pub, only planning on having a pint or two. The drive is easy, and he pulls up to the bar right at 7:30. Sal already has a table in the back, but the pool tables.  He recognizes Gabriel, Osar and Maria from the 122.  There’s two empty chairs, and Tommy claims the one next to Sal.

“I got you your fancy fru fru beer,” Sal comments, sliding full pint down the table to him. 

Without question, Tommy takes a sip. It’s strong with fruity notes.  Tommy can tell Sal’s ordered him a double IPA, which while very good, is going to mean he’s only nursing the one drink for the evening.  One day he’ll make a point of downloading Uber, but tonight is not that night. 

He makes a note to ask the server what the beer is after he takes a second sip.  He actually really likes it.  Sal would rather drink whatever domestic brand they have on tap, and Tommy is certain that’s what’s in the pitcher on the table.

Leaning back, Tommy takes in the rest of the bar.  He’s about to ask if the remaining seat is saved for someone when he clocks movement at the entrance.  The kid walking in is wearing tight ripped jeans, boots, and a leather jacket that is definitely too warm for the weather they’re having.  Tommy clocks the birthmark above his left eye, and the way his whole face lights up when he spots his team at the table.

The kid practically bounces over to the table, and Oscar calls out, “Probie!  If it isn’t the hero of the hour!”

The probie ducks his head, and his whole face flushes.  Tommy already knows he’s in trouble.

[cywscross]

Title: Take What's Broken (Make It Whole) Fandom: Bleach Character/Pairing: Coyote Starrk/Kyouraku Shunsui, Coyote Starrk, Kyouraku Shunsui, Katen Kyoukotsu, Hirako Shinji Rating: T Word Count: 6,039 (Chapter 1) Summary: Occasionally, Shinigami are like this. Occasionally, they meet a soul that so resounds with their own that it only takes an instant to recognize them, even if only intuitively, a connection long forged by the silent threads of fate. Tags: Canon Divergence AU, Canon Divergence - Thousand Year Blood War Arc, Soulmates, Enemies to Friends to Lovers

Submitted For:

@julybreakbingo

- July Break Bingo 2024 - Forced into a leadership position under stressful conditions

100prompts Challenge on DW

- 100prompts Challenge - 043. Punctual

@badthingshappenbingo

- Bad Things Happen Bingo [Card 2] - Rescue Mission

Gen Prompt Bingo on DW

- Gen Prompt Bingo [Round 25] - Isolation / Loneliness

@anyfandomfluffbingo

- Any Fandom Fluff Bingo - Damsel in Distress

@sweetspicybingo

- Sweet & Spicy Bingo: Lyrical Edition [Card 2] - Behind every dark cloud there is a bright blue sky | TWRP

@seasonaldelightsbingo

- Seasonal Delights Bingo: Language of Flowers [Card 1] - asphodel

@fandom-free-bingo

- Fandom-Free Bingo: Flight Edition - Ambushed - Fandom-Free Bingo: Valentine Edition - "I Thought You Were Dead."

@multifandom-flash

- Multifandom Flash Bingo: May 2024 - Backup from Otherworld

[blackwood4stucky]

do you trust me with your scars, enough to show me your heart

author: aspen blackwood

series: wonder if it's room in heaven for savages

james “bucky” barnes x steve rogers | mcu | fic playlist

masterpost | 🅴 | 🔞 | word count: 11,037 | multichapter fic

read ch 1: a maze you love getting lost in

tags: blood, creature!stucky, gore, non traditional omegaverse, sexual content, violence

Steve hesitated by the entryway to the kitchen. Just being around Ma Winnie made him nervous given how he felt about her son. - a dark and twisted fairytale

bingo fills + event prompts

@afgomegaversebingo | confession of feelings

@anyfandomangstbingo | hurt/comfort

@anyfandomgoesbingo | confession of feelings

@ao3tagbingo | scent kink

au challenge | fae au

@augustwritingchallenge: april showers brings m-au flowers | fairies/fair folk

@avengers-assemble-bingo: [aa002] | anal play

@badsexbingo | free space

@bloodyheartsbingo: twilightdreams' card [bloody hearts bingo i] | all mine [nsfw: bloody] | kissing/biting their partner so hard during sex that they draw blood

@buckybarnesbingo: round 6 | u4: friends to lovers

@buckyboybingo | fae

@character-a-character-b:

emotions | finding comfort in each other's arms & bodies holiday | free space spooky | a night of passion beneath a blood moon romance | rough passion winter | body heat under a shared blanket

crossover bingo | multiple orgasms

@darkspicyevanstan | unseelie

@dark-stucky: bucky's birthday bash 2025 | jealousy

@deaddovedec: 2024 | week 1: day 7 | free day

@deaddovekink:

august heat | mating cycles: heats + marking: scents frisky feb | groping monsterfcking march '23 | beasts of myth: fae monsterfcking march '24 | bizarre biology: abnormal body parts

@eclipsingbingo

card 1 | soulmate au card 2 | alternate universe

@fairytalebingo | court of night

@fandombingo

the little prince | moonlight wonderland | loss of innocence

@fandom-free-bingo

august chaos | friends to lovers dream | free space gingerbread | falling asleep on one another, moving closer in bed july | blushing maritime may | best friends to lovers, fae au medical | omegaverse au october | tentative smile wild | childhood friends world book night | fairy circle

@fictionaldelightsbingo: under the sea bingo | their heart stops

@halcyonianlove | fae

@herohardshipsbingo | road trip

@hurtcomfort-bingo:

hurt and comfort | first love pick your poison | fever, swallowing

@julybreakbingo: post july 24 | soulmates

@marvelousyahtzee | 2s: kneeling, flowers, fight, holding hands, jealous

marvel-smash-bingo | best friends to lovers

@multifandom-flash: here there be monsters bingo | mystery monster

@seasonaldelightsbingo:

cozy feels | dark academia card: shadows types of love | card 1: free space

@sebastianstanbingo | sharing a bed

@secretcrypticevents: into the wilds bingo | unseelie

@stuckybingo | huddling for warmth + music [march prompt]

@sweetspicybingo:

beginning | first "i love you" hurt/comfort | deep conversations lyrical | sweet touch / you've given me too much to feel winter | fairy lights

@thebo3bingo | cock warming

@thefairytalebingo | the fair folk

@winterbreakadvent 24 | just the tip' leads to full penetration leads to feelings realization

@wintershieldbingo | canon divergence

@writersmonth | fairy

@yearoftheotpevent | february: bed sharing

read ch 2: heart made of glass, my mind of stone

ao3 | sqwa | tumblr

[galvanizedfriend]

Klaroline Fanfiction Masterlist

It's been a minute since I last updated my masterlist so I decided to go ahead and start a new one. Yokan // ▪ Multi-chapters

. The Wolf Series [I, II, III and Outtakes - Incomplete] When Caroline wakes up shackled, powerless and very far away from Mystic Falls, she knows she's in serious trouble. But when a woman named Sophie Deveraux reveals the reason why she's been kidnapped and taken to New Orleans, she realizes things are far worse than she could've ever imagined.

[The Originals rewriting where Caroline is a witch and gets pregnant with Klaus' child. Seasons 1, 2 and 3 complete, season 4 coming.]

. Vice and Virtue [6/6 - Complete] As the second son of a Duke, Klaus Mikaelson has the means and all the time in the world to indulge in every manner of wild activity with very little respect for the regiment of polite society. That is until his brother decides he's had enough of his vulgar ways and gives him an ultimatum. Caroline Forbes is a young debutante in search of true love and adventure. Except her aunt wishes for her to marry a somber Viscount who's already buried three wives. When their paths cross, they realize they might yet strike a deal that could satisfy their relatives and benefit them both.

[AH Regency!AU inspired by Bridgerton and a dozen other period novels I have been reading lately.]

. Pedulum [2/2 - Complete] This is what Klaus Mikaelson knows: death isn't the end for him. From the moment he is brought into the world to his final shuddering breath, Klaus' life is pretty much the same as everyone else's. The difference lies in what happens after he dies: he goes right back to the beginning, a child in London with the memory of dozens of lives lived before. Nothing ever really changes, including the fact that no matter how hard he tries, he can never save Caroline Forbes' life for too long.

[AH/soulmates!AU with a slight magical twist. Technically a one-shot, chapter 2 is just an alternate ending.]

. We'll Always Have New Orleans [3/15 - Incomplete] Caroline wakes up in a world where everything looks exactly the same, only nothing really is. For starters, she's no longer a vampire, and no one else in Mystic Falls has ever heard of witches, vampires or werewolves - no one except for Klaus, who woke up just as human and twice as angry about it. Their search for answers and a way out takes them all the way to New Orleans, and Caroline could never anticipate how much this crazy fake world was about to alter her reality forever.

[Canon-divergence!AU. Set right after TVD 4x18.]

. Speed Dating [4/4 - Complete] Klaus is having a bad month, so Caroline decides it's a great idea to drag him along to a round of Speed Dating. Other men in the room do not approve.

AH/AU fluff that was inspired by an episode of House (yes, it is fluff, I promise).

. Gasoline [2/2 - Complete] "He doesn't apologize, of course he doesn't. He doesn't care. He calls everyone love. It's not meant to mean anything. Except it did, once, and it makes Caroline's stomach churn away inside, as she feels Klaus crawling underneath her skin like he never left at all. I've still got you."

AH/Band!AU. Two years after Klaus walked out on his band - on her -, Caroline finds herself in her least favorite place on earth - New Orleans. She really did try to stay away from him, escaping an event just to keep off his radar. He finds her anyway.

. Like It's Christmas Again [2/2 - Complete] As Christmas approaches, Caroline Forbes, a New York-based event planner, is sent to a quaint small town in Virginia to organize their holiday festival. But her plans are momentarily hindered by the presence of Klaus Mikaelson, the Mayor's brother and a grumpy billionaire lacking in any holiday spirit, who's in town to close the sale of his family's manor - the charming estate she was hoping to use as a venue.

[AKA that time when I committed Christmas fic. AU/AH inspired by a Hallmark movie, I kid you not.]

. Spin [5/5 - Complete] Since she was seven years old, Caroline Forbes has been preparing herself to become President of the United States. But before she gets to the Oval Office, she needs to win the election for senior student president at the prestigious Saint Sebastian High - which would be in the bag if only goddamn Klaus Mikaelson hadn't decided to run against her.

[AH/AU lovers-to rivals-to-lovers The Politician!AU where everyone takes school elections way more seriously than they should.]

. How Far I'd Go [2/2 - Complete for now] Set in TVD S6/TO S2. Unable to control Caroline after she turns her humanity off, Stefan reaches out to the only person he can think of for help.

[Slices of moments of Klaus in Mystic Falls while Caroline has her humanity off.] ▪ One-shots

. The Sound of Settling Klaus hates his job at Mikaelson & Sons. He hates wearing a suit. He also hates his brothers constantly butting into his life. Everything will be better once he gets his much desired transfer to the New York branch. Caroline Forbes is the owner of Mystic Café, and when Klaus accidentally wanders into her coffee shop, his whole perspective changes. [AH/Coffee Shop!AU where Klaus is a lawyer. Fluffity Fluff. Lots of Mikaelsons and some Carenzo friendship.] . The Witch Queen Caroline always knew she was different. She was keyed into her own otherness very early on. Strange things happened around the Forbes women. Her mother never really had to spell it out to her, give it a name. Caroline could always sort of feel it, and then at some point the feeling blossomed into comprehension, and comprehension hardened into fact. And with that came an altogether different kind of certainty: this was not a secret she'd be able to keep forever. One day, no matter how hard she tried to hide it, everyone would find out. And when they did, they would come for her.

. Worst Things Have Happened Klaus Mikaelson is a prince with a very dark secret that threatens to destroy his family's legacy. Caroline Forbes is a sorceress whose job is to make sure his secret remains buried. But would it hurt him to put some clothes on? [Royal!AU, with a magical twist.] . The Unexpected Grace of Falling Apart The whole incident was bound to go down as a funny anecdote to be shared among friends, a Oh, you think you've had the worst hook-up ever? Hold my beer kind of story. Provided, of course, that she never had to see him ever and could just wipe him out of her life and memory for good. Given that they live in different time zones, it shouldn't be too much of a hassle.

That is precisely why Caroline is livid when she emerges from the arrivals area at Richmond airport to find Douchebag, in the flesh - sunglasses indoors and all, like the proper jerk that he is - holding up a sign that readsClarisse.

[AH/AU. It's Tyler's wedding weekend and Caroline is back in Mystic Falls for the first time after the most traumatic and depressing year of her life. And it's about to get even worse as she's made to share breathing space with Klaus, The Worst Guy Ever. Except they might have to join forces to save the wedding, and to the discovery that things might not be what the seem. As Caroline teeters on the edge of a breakdown she'd been trying very hard to conceal, an unexpected savior appears to help her through the haze.]

. love, the monster's got me now [Canon compliant. Set in TVD S03E09 Homecoming.]

"Don't run," he says calmly, sounding almost bored, but with a clear warning. "I'm in the mood for a chase. Little spoiler: you can't outrun me." His eyebrows twitch up when he finally turns around to face her, lips curling into an amused grin. "Tyler's girl," he states, gesturing towards the now empty yard. "You missed out on the celebrations, I’m afraid."

[Or: the missing Klaroline scene between "There's your pretty little girlfriend, Caroline" and "There's a whole world out there waiting for you." Klaus and Caroline meet after Homecoming.]

. When It's Gone Suddenly, Caroline hates how nice the bed feels. How soft the pillows are. How smooth and cool and expensive those goddamn sheets are against her skin. She hates the giddiness in her belly, like she's a stupid schoolgirl when she's not allowed to be one anymore. She hates how right the space between Klaus' arms felt, how easily she molded against him. His lips were as full and as soft as they looked, but his hands were gentler and more reverent than they had any right to be, and Caroline hates it. Hates it, hates it, hates it. She hates that it suits her, hates that she wants it, hates that none of it is hers to keep.

[Set after TVD S04E19 Pictures of You. Caroline hears about Klaus' impending departure after a mysterious letter and decides to have some words.] . Wishing Each Sigh Might Be the Last The first time she sees him, Caroline thinks he's an angel.

[Set in 1800s New Orleans. As Caroline lies dying, she prays for God to send help or end her torment and save her soul. She thinks an angel has come for her. But he's no angel at all.] . Feel the Madness Closing In Set in TO S3. Caroline is in New Orleans when Lucien and the Ancestors make a move against the Mikaelson family - and they know exactly who to target in order to get to Klaus. Paranoia sets in, sending him to a very dark place, and Caroline finally learns the price of being loved so profoundly by a monster. . Issues When Klaus' Hollywood career takes a down turn after a nasty divorce and a viral mug shot, his manager decides his life is not yet miserable enough, bringing in a PR company famous for its high-profile damage control cases.

[AH!AU where Klaus is a problematic movie star and Caroline is a PR agent with no time for his BS.]