#sas rogue heroes au

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

RegDiana Ancient Rome AU

[butternuggets-blog]

Laddie Come Home

SAS Rogue Heroes; werewolf AU Fluff, Slight Angst With A Happy Ending

Chapter Two

David leapt from the carriage when the train stopped for water, rolling over and over and over again until he broke through the bracken at the bottom of the hill.

A naked man walking around the forest would attract more attention than a wolf pup but he could move faster on two legs than four. David kept away from the road and headed in the direction of the city; he made it roughly two miles before the paranoia really set in and he transformed back into a wolf just to be on the safe side.

The wind changed.

..salt?

Tears. That sounds like a child crying.

The girl was sitting on the side of a fallen log, sobbing quietly into the chest of an old man in a long coat. She must have slipped and fallen because there was a red graze on her knee. The man was stroking her hair and gently rocking her, but his eyes kept darting around as if he was looking for someone.

David toddled out of the underbrush, fell on his face, then picked himself up and shook the dirt off his coat. The man froze, his face white with fear, gathered the girl up in his arms and started running.

Oh. They must think I'm a guard dog.

David sat down in the clearing. After a few minutes, he got bored of sitting still and, spotting a fly zooming overhead, tried catching it in his jaws.

The fly dodged and buzzed away, a now enthralled David hopping and stumbling after it. He leapt after it twice but was unsuccessful, the fly dodging him both times with lightning speed.

David wasn't watching where he was going and slammed headfirst into a log. He fell backwards with a yelp, landing with his paws in the air, the fly looping overhead once before buzzing away.

'I think it is just a puppy' said a quiet voice behind him.

David tilted his head back further, then rolled over onto his stomach. The old man and the girl were staring at him from their hiding spot behind a different fallen log, the girl half-hidden beneath the man's coat.

'Here boy, good boy. Come here' the man held out a hand towards him and made soft clicking sounds, so David walked over to him, sniffed his fingers and licked them.

The girl giggled. David leant forward and sniffed her, and she giggled again.

'I think he likes us, księżniczko' the man picked David up and the girl scratched him behind his ears.

'Should we take him with us?'

________________________________________________________________

Maja and her grandfather Bazyli had been living on the family farm with Maja's parents when the soldiers came. There had been a brief argument about who would take her to the woods, but Maja's mother had settled it by opening the front door to the soldiers as Maja's father shoved them both out the back door and slammed it shut.

David re-learned the story every night, as Maja clutched him to her chest and Bazyli whispered reassurances into her ears until she fell asleep.

In the daytime it was easier to distract them from their worries. David helped them dig for edible roots and grubs in the earth, making Maja laugh as he sneezed and snorted from the dust.

Bazyli played tug of war with him, and carried him in his coat pocket whenever David got sleepy. Maja had named him "Filip", after a character in one of Bazyli's stories, and they both loved their new friend very much.

________________________________________________________________

David waddled confidently down the street. Somewhere along the way he had managed to get the hang of putting two paws in front of the other and not eating dirt every third step.

The village was only a few houses and a handful of shops, but there were still a handful of German soldiers scattered about. He grudgingly allowed them to pat him, resisting the urge to go for their throats.

Down the road, David spotted an elderly woman at a cafe put her handbag underneath her chair. Next to the cafe were the bombed out remains of a house.

Perfect

David sidled up to an alley, dashed around the block, and came out the mouth of a different alley between the house and the cafe.

A tablecloth obscured him from view as he rifled through the lady's bag for her purse. Fishing it out, he gripped it in his teeth and fled back down the alley, digging into the rubble of the house until he popped up in the middle of the collapsed kitchen like a gopher.

I got it right! Well done me

David transformed and stretched, working the kinks out of his back and legs. It was difficult to wander off from Maja and Bazyli but Mike's warning about not being able to change back kept him vigilant for opportunities.

The purse held a little coin and a few bank notes; David rummaged around the kitchen cupboards and unearthed a singed wicker basket that was just small enough for him to carry in his mouth. Putting the money in it, he transformed back into pup form, picked up the basket, and carefully excavated a tunnel back to the outside.

First to a baker to buy some bread, then a butcher and finally the cheesemonger. David was surprised how easy it was to lift the basket; he'd been thinking that he'd have to drag it back to the woods.

'What have you got there then, little fellow?'

David kept up the pace, sparing a glance behind him. The soldier was smiling at him, but he was eyeing the basket of food far too much for David's liking.

'Come here, little man, come here! Good doggy!'

The man followed him down the street, whistling and clicking at him. This was bad; if he didn't do something to shake him soon he wasn't going to be able to return to the woods.

They reached the edge of the village and David led the soldier around to the back of the houses, feigning towards the garden of the last house on the row. He dropped the basket gently onto the grass, yawning widely.

Come on you bastard, take the bait!

'There's a good doggy' the man muttered, reaching for the basket.

David leapt, jumping directly up between the man's legs, biting down and twisting. The soldier choked on a howl and fell to his knees, a rapidly-spreading pool of blood soaking through the front of his trousers. He fell forward with a gurgle and slammed headfirst into the ground, dead.

David grabbed the basket and sprinted for the cover of the trees, volting over small stones and fallen branches as he bolted back to base.

________________________________________________________________

There was laughter and singing emanating from the house. Bazyli's cousin in France had wept with joy when he had opened the front door to find them standing in the morning light, and the rest of the day had been spent celebrating their extraordinary journey to France.

David was happy for them. It was time for him to go.

He jumped out of bed and gently pulled Maja's arm back around the cloth rabbit he had painstakingly sewn together earlier while everyone was dancing.

I hope it brings you luck sweetheart. Goodbye.

[flurgburgler]

one thing about me is that i will make a modern au

inevitably, there is also a fic

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Introducing CPL James "Jock" McDiarmid aka Mark Rowley // SAS Rogue Heroes (2025) S2E1

[ginerva-mollyweasley]

"he's from the other side... but we don't talk religion"

PADDY MAYNE AND EOIN MCGONIGAL -> they both survive the war and live through the troubles au

[miggleverse]

FaeEoin! Au, Part 3.

It's finally here people! a peek into what's going on in Eoin's mind, and a bit more of Paddy freaking out. Enjoy.

________________________________________________

Interlude: A fae perspective

Eoin watched Paddy’s retreating form. He never liked it when the humans went to war; it was always about petty squabbles, and it disrupted the flow of nature too much. He had to work hard not to let its effects ripple into his precious realm. It left too much death for his taste, not enough life in its wake. He was fae, and the fae liked everything to be beautiful - there was no beauty in the way humans carried out war, no style, no finesse. Just raging brutality that disrupted the balance of nature too much.

He supposed he was also more unhappy this time because he now had something to lose, and currently there was very little he could do to control it. He’d watched for decades as his brothers and sisters made various humans their own. While the idea of having such a companion was appealing, Eoin had never met a human he thought warranted the effort – (Ambrose always teased he was a secret romantic at heart) - that is, until he saw Paddy, and now he couldn’t think of a better reward for his waiting.

And what a reward his human would be when he finally gave himself to Eoin! Paddy’s mind and soul were so alive, using his words and poetry to communicate in a way uncannily fae. Determined, passionate, his body bursting with an energy it could barely hold, muscled and strong in a way active bodies were. How could Eoin not look upon such a man and not want him? Eoin would trade his kingdom for Paddy’s soul if he had to. He was so close to getting it as well, those shining blue eyes of Paddy’s always looked up at him so trustingly, so open to his embrace that Eoin felt sure if he had a little more time, he could have had Paddy giving him those all-important words. They both would be much happier for it.

So no, he was not happy his human was going off to war for who knows how long. Frankly he thought Paddy had no business going to places his power had no sway, where Eoin could not be there for him, to provide for him and patch him up after his inevitable scrapes. Obviously, he knew someone like his Paddy could look after himself more than enough, and would rail against any gilded cage he was put in, no matter if it was Eoin himself turning the lock. No, his human needed his freedom. So long as he came back to Eoin at the end of the day.

Did Paddy not know Eoin was the wind that cooled his brow? The fog that hid him from the bailiffs? The sun that warmed his skin - not know how tenderly Eoin would care for him? feed him, clothe him and fuck him until Paddy couldn’t remember a time it wasn’t the two of them as one?

Still, he mused, picking up the well-worn book of poetry his beloved had left as a final gift, fate had a funny way of working these things out; and they say distance makes the heart grow fonder, so maybe this war will be the thing that finally binds them together. He was patient; he would wait until Paddy finally caught up.

Despite this, the lack of Paddy’s presence was felt in subtle ways; there were fewer fish in the lake, and more mist than ever before. Walkers noted how the forest seemed a little less welcoming than before, with the shadows becoming darker, moving in strange ways as if trying to chase them out of their space. The trees, too, were sharper, more pointed, curling in on themselves and withholding their bountiful flora. Most chalked it up to the changed atmosphere in wartime, making minds more overactive, blissfully unaware of the harboured grief of their most powerful neighbour.

________________________________________________

Paddy wasn’t sure if it was the smokes, alcohol or malaria messing up his system, but he was sure something was wrong with his body. All food and drink since leaving home had a muted, dull taste, like the flavour had already been sucked out of it, even the familiar coppery tang of blood had lost some of its depth. What seemed to have been taken away in taste seemed to have been made up in other, more noticeable ways: he bruised less than he used to, the cuts and wounds on his body healed quicker than everyone else. He knew the other men around him picked up on it, how Paddy seemed to always have the eye of God gazing down on him.

It wasn’t until a particular night in Cairo that he started to suspect it wasn’t God at all. Cursing this stupid meeting with Stirling in this stupid, crowded club, trying not to get progressively more anxious about the meaning of red flowers on his table. His mood was not helped by the sudden appearance of a French spy, too beautiful and charming to be entirely human herself - Paddy had enough experience to know. A dull pang in his heart, not as beautiful as Eoin, though. He had tried to push away all thoughts of the fae since leaving home, too much a coward to face the aching, hollow gap deep inside of him whenever he did. The booze helped, mostly. Although Eoin still had an annoying way of popping up, like now.

The spy – Eve – was studying him carefully, ‘How are you enjoying Cairo, Paddy Mayne? I am surprised, though you were able to make it this far, the distance apart would have driven most mad.’

Paddy paused, re-examining the woman before him. ‘Most already consider me mad, so there’s little any distance could do to change that. How do you know my name?’

‘Your association with, shall we say, a certain mutual friend of the fae kind, with the reputation he has, makes you someone worth knowing. No doubt you are already experiencing the benefits of such a relationship; the resilience of Lieutenant Mayne has already become something of a myth amongst the soldiers.’

Oh. Eoin. Another drink of whiskey.

‘Go to fuck, I am no less human than the rest of them, thank you.’ Was the only thought he voiced out loud, unable to resist snapping back at the implication. His mind began to reel with the meaning of what was being said to him.

‘Hmmm, perhaps so, but his power is starting to flow through you. That is obvious to anyone with half a foot in their world.’ Finishing the last of his drink, Paddy stood to leave. It was clear Stirling was more late than usual, and he wasn’t half drunk enough to be dealing with information about Eoin like this. He also didn’t want to process the fact that, even this far apart, intentional or not, the fae was still somehow looking out for him, in front of so many people. That was for him and him alone.

Turning back to the table, he said, ‘Listen, I don’t know why you think that makes me so important, but I don’t want to get mixed up in any fae business, alright.’ Even saying that he got the sinking feeling it was a little too late. Without waiting for a reply, Paddy fled to the exit, too consumed with the rush of his own thoughts to pay attention to the bustling city around him, and desperately wondering how much further into Eoin’s grasp he would be by the end of this war.

Part 4

________________________________________________

taglist (no pressure): @leftoversl1ce, @ecoustsaintmein,

[cloudyfacewithjam]

Sherlock Holmes AU: Every great villain needs even greater henchman.

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

university au for my sas:rh ocs because why not (inspired by @moghraidhs <3)

[homeahoy]

[gydima]

Oh man, I just realized I need a Paddy/Eoin Pacific Rim AU, because those two are the definition of drift compatible.

[elyksina]

Character commission for @derry-rain of their wonderful AU

Thank you for commissioning me 💗

Commissions info

[miggleverse]

FaeEoin! Part 4.

The smut just didn't work out in this part, unfortunately. However there is much pining and Paddy and Eoin finally reuniting. As always, comments and feedback are much appreciated!

Ultimately, Paddy had little time to dwell on this newfound revelation. Stirling and Lewes seemed determined to form this new regiment, and were equally as determined to have Paddy in it as Paddy was determined to have no part in it. Unfortunately for him, a clash with his CO in Heliopolis and another stint in prison left him little choice but to go along with it, dreams of Burma being left to rot in that cell. Still, he was glad to leave behind the hustle and bustle of Cairo for the desolation that was Kabrit, the stark and wild nature of the desert feeling more familiar than the cramped urbanity behind them, most humans favoured. The wilderness of the sands reminded him in some gut-wrenching way of Eoin, of that peaceful glade he left behind so many miles away. Here, he felt closer to the fae than at any point since the war started, loving and hating that fact simultaneously.

Settling into life in the newly formed Special Air Service was relatively easy – if you overlooked the scorching desert heat, Lewes’ twenty-mile hikes and the near lack of water. The lads Stirling recruited were a solid bunch, all human as far as Paddy could tell, although he had his suspicions about young Cooper, who looked at him with eyes a little too sprite like and a grin little too bloodthirsty; but overall, a decent lad when he wasn’t arguing the toss with Reg. Paddy also tried to overlook the other oddities of the desert, not the natural ones like the shining mirages that you could never quite get close enough to. No, it was the movement of creatures in the corner of his eye, too camouflaged to be seen head on, that often scaled the walls of their encampment that Paddy tried to ignore. Or the wind that became so shrill and piercing, it was like a screaming banshee clawing at the fabric of the tents – Stirling put the inevitable tears down to cheap quality and refused to say any more about it.

Some of the men joked a place like this had a mind of its own, let loose to play God on a whim. Paddy wasn’t sure how literally to take that. Either way, he wasn’t fussed, the desert had been as kind as a place like this could be. It also helped that he knew he was a little more protected than most, making him a little more reckless than the rest.

It was perhaps because of all this that the dreams started. Time had never quite smoothed the gap in Paddy’s heart, and out here he missed Eoin with a fierceness that left him with a burn in his eyes, throat tight with an emotion he refused to name. This longing must have transcended his waking state, causing dreams so vivid he could barely tell one from the other. Sometimes in his dreaming, he went to Ireland; other times, he would stay right here in his cramped tent. But Eoin was always a constant feature, welcoming Paddy into the solace of his arms, offering a night’s reprieve from harsh days.

The cot was straining under the weight, not built for taking two fully grown men. But Paddy ignored the creaking, more focused on entwining himself with Eoin as much as possible. Legs wove together while hands sought each other under thin blankets. Shifting to settle his head on Eoin’s chest, Paddy allowed himself to breathe, hoping he would still remember the feel of elegant hands running through his hair and down his back in languid strokes, or the thrum of the other’s heartbeat underneath him. Nuzzling into the sand-stained vest – for his mind, ever the creative, had conjured his fae as a fellow soldier – snatches of verse leapt unbidden into his dream self and out onto his tongue, only to be swallowed by the soft fabric surrounding him,

“Sweet dreams attend thee in thy sleep, To soothe thy rest till morning's light, And angels round thee vigil keep.” [1]

“What was that?” Turning to look up at Eoin, Paddy drank in the sight of him,

“is this real, or have I finally gone as mad as everyone says I am,”

“Do you want it to be?”

“Aye, I do. I fear I am becoming a coward with the wanting”

Eoin adjusted his grip, hugging Paddy tighter to him, as if he could collapse the two and make them one, whispering into the blond strands of hair, "Then it’s real love, and you are no coward for wanting it so. I am with you.”

“And will you stay?” That felt too vulnerable, too exposing. But Paddy was desperate not to lose the scraps of Eoin he could get, even if he couldn’t tell whether they were dragged from the depths of his mind, or part of the wider net Eoin had cast over him.

“Of course, Paddy, it’s us two, yeah, together”

Those dreams were always the hardest to wake from, in his bleary-eyed state adjusting to the bright light from outside, discovering no arms curled around him, no smiley-eyed fae to whisper to. But still Paddy’s body had pushed him to the edge of the cot, as if making space for a person not there, or how the pillow would be indented as if two had slept on it. Other times he would wake, twisting and sweating in his blankets, phantom touches and filthy promises fading in the light of day, leaving him with a raging hard-on and the object of his desires long gone. The dreams carried him through the training of the desert, through that disastrous first jump – Eoin was not impressed when Paddy relayed tales of that particular stunt, muttering something about humans and recklessness and waste, through all the missions after that.

Closer to home, in Sicily, they got worse. Eoin started bleeding out of Paddy’s mind into broad daylight. He caught flashes of him in the crowds of men, his dark curls gelled and gleaming in the Mediterranean sun. Paddy could hear his laugh in the wind as he walked amongst them, but always beside him when the fighting got tough, which was nearly always now because the war had become more vicious than the days in the desert. Depending on how existential he got, Paddy would see it as a haunting, a stalking, the not-quite-real-but-not-quite-imagined Eoin following him all over Europe, slowly chivvying back to his realm. He knew Almonds was worried about him, had walked into Paddy mid-conversation with seemingly no one too many times. Reg definitely had, but he was halfway to losing his mind and didn’t pay much attention. In fact, all of the men were slowly unravelling in one way or another as they pushed into Italy, so really a little talking into thin air was easily chalked up to war fatigue. That’s what Paddy told himself anyway, safe in the knowledge that no one around it was mad enough yet to bring it up with him directly.

Still, this not-Eoin, this half-shade of the vibrant fae was Paddy’s balm and torment from the intensity of warfare, balm in the way he held Paddy at night, whispering sweet reassurances, holding him close. Torture because his touch left no mark on Paddy, no heat emanated from his body, only making him hunger for the one he left back in Ireland. He could not decide if he wanted death as release from this seemingly eternal carousel of a horse race, or to receive the tiny slip of paper which would send all the men back home for a brief respite.

After Termoli, Paddy was granted one of those wishes.

It was on the boat that the not-Eoin disappeared and the restlessness started: itchy skin, tense muscles, heart pounding; like the start of a mission, except this time there were no Germans to shoot or partisans to grind his teeth against. It was just him against his own writhing, wanting to need to see Eoin again, finally rearing its vulnerable head after being denied for so long, turning Paddy into a snarling dog that could only be soothed by its master. The men gave him a wide berth as he paced the small storage space he had commandeered for himself, his body ceaselessly searching for the source of its heartache.

________________________________________________

Interlude: A fae perspective

Eoin was doing the usual rounds of his forest, winding through well-worn paths, careful to not tread on the many roots and weeds that had claimed them over the last two years – the forest had not quite forgiven him for Paddy’s absence, still mourning the loss of Eoin’s shining sun. The fog was now a near-permanent feature on the lake, seeping into the surrounding vegetation, as if trying to cocoon the realm and its king in this time of loss. Little life now stirred amongst the once vibrant branches, unable to stand the atmosphere of melancholy. Eoin walked without seeing this change, the isolation now an unwilling bedfellow, wondering when his wait would end.

Turning into the once-sunny glade, Eoin was greeted with the brisk dancing of a winter breeze. Normal, except for the fact that winter had never penetrated his land, and he was not so far gone it ever would. No, this chimed in his ear whispers of Mediterranean shores, the soft sway of the channel, and the boom of a beloved Belfast laugh.

Ah, he thought. It has.

________________________________________________

Paddy had never been so glad to see home in his life; the sleepy street he had so longed to get away from now seemed like the greatest luxury in the world. The screams, however, had followed him here, pushing and pulling him along the road, until he was practically running the familiar route to the forest. The trees seemed to pull him along, branches receding in the distance only to create a wall at his back. Paddy let them, for once, eager to be led to a place where he would find his solace.

Was Paddy a coward? To want to run from the screams he helped create, to want to succumb to the mercy of his benevolent fae? He felt too haunted, too bloodstained for any of it.

But he was never any good at holding back from his wants, bursting into the glade of happy memories only to find…no Eoin? Where was he, where was he? Paddy whipped round frantically, heart in his throat and a cold, ugly emotion slithering into his stomach. Where was his fae? Where was his lovely one? Scanning the rows of forest around him he could make out no curly hair; could see no eyes gleaming down at him. no no no no no no. This was all wrong. Eoin was meant to be here. Bereft, he stumbled over the standing stone, curling around its mossy base, pressing against the cold surface in any attempt to get close to any source of the man he had missed so terribly the last two years.

It was like this that sleep finally found him, and Paddy succumbed. Unmindful of the fact he had prostrated himself at the foot of Eoin’s altar like the most tempting offer.

_______________________________________________

Eoin watched as his human rested, cuddled at the base of his stone. Finally, he was here! And what a perfect gift he had made of himself! better than anything Eoin could have asked for. Now, it was time to take him home.

________________________________________________

Verses from 'Good-Night' by Paul Lawrence-Dunbar

tagging: @leftoversl1ce

[cloudyfacewithjam]

Racing AU or "Where the hell did you learn to drive like that, Paddy Mayne?"

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

SAS:RH University AU - Diana Fayed edition

[buthappysoverrated]

fic name ask game: razorblade cereal

send me a made-up fic title

okay wait this can't possibly be what you're asking for/have in mind, but this sent me into this

I wrote a little bit for it! It's an SAS Rogue Heroes space AU

Augustin finds Paddy in a common room – it has not yet stopped to amaze him, the magnitude of this ship – the one with the piano, with the intention to thank him for the meal. It was far nicer than what they normally stocked; they don’t tend to get fresh meat in space, and most of the crew hit the meagre bar on the planet and stayed there for the entirety of their leave as soon as Stirling set them loose. Augustin went with his men. Paddy went hunting.

Paddy doesn’t look up from his book when he enters the room. There’s a large metal bowl next to him, scales of the amphibian he shot the day before immersed in what Agustin assumes to be some type of cleaning solution. The locals at the bar mentioned these animals: they called them what roughly translates to Razorskin in English. They said their scales could reflect laser and cut through rocks, and fighting one of those seemed to fulfil some type of warrior ritual. Stirling commented some more when Paddy dragged his one back, first about how ridiculous he looked dragging a lizard the size of himself by a rod he stuck through its body from the mouth, then about the scales of it could be worth good money. Paddy grumbled, didn’t appear to be in a talkative mood.

The scales are of a dark earthy green colour, sharp and glistening. Augustin suddenly has the bizarre urge to scoop a fistful and shove them down his throat.

“That would be a really bad idea,” Paddy says.

Augustin snaps his eyes to Paddy, and finds him watching him passively, still holding his book.

“Felt the same thing. It looks rather like cereal,” Paddy says.

Augustin doesn’t quite know what to say to that, and doesn’t ask how Paddy is sure of what he’s thinking. He opts to pass him a beer he carries here. Paddy takes a long pull, sets it down, and goes back to his book.

[just-barrow]

SAS: shitposts 201/∞