#here comes a barrage of chapters for this fic

[cerenemuxse]

TGR but There's a Roleswap - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 - The Foreign Scottish Engine

All in Vain (Season 20 Episode 16)

Word Count: 930

The story can be found at @tgr-2x5-roleswap-au for easier access.

~

Once James arrived at Brendam Docks, he headed straight for his assigned goods trains to get it over with and go back to pulling passenger trains. "A splendid engine like me shouldn't be doing this sort of work!" he muttered with fury. Just as he was about to say something else, a ship's horn blasted near the docks as the ship came to the loading area, specifically the engine loading area.

Nobody had used that area in years so when the platform dropped to connect the ship to the docks, everyone stopped and stared, including James, Salty, Porter, and Cranky.

Once the ship and platform were safely connected, engines stormed off the boat, quickly filling Brendam Docks and startling the beings there. The engine, a Scottish tender engine, in the front rushed ahead with excitement. "Och, dear! V-Very busy today! The dockyard, I mean!" he exclaimed inattentively.

The dock manager looked up from his clipboard when he noticed the engines pass by. "Hey, stop! Hold it!" he hollered but they couldn't hear him so he blew his whistle. Thankfully, they all stopped, including the Scottish engine.

Ignoring the immediate groaning of questions from the engines behind the second engine, the dock manager asked loudly, "Where are you all going?"

"To the Great Railway Show, of course!" replied the second engine, a Belgium streamlined tender engine.

"The Great Railway Show is on the Mainland in England! This is the Island of Sodor!"

"The Island o’-?" The Belgium engine's face dropped. "Oh." With a blast of his whistle, he hollered, "Alright, back on the ship!"

Despite the complaining from some of the other engines, everyone reversed back onto the ship. As they did so, the Scottish engine yelled, "H-Hold oan! I'm comin’!" following everyone else. "W-Wait!"

James followed the crowd to the boat. "The Great Railway Show? Are you all really-?"

"Get out of the way, rusty iron!" hollered a large blue Canadian tender engine.

James fumed, huffing heavy clouds of steam. "I'm not the one going backward," he muttered. As the engines boarded the ship, he exclaimed, "Why don't you take me with you all?" He switched lines. "It looks like there's room for one more!" exclaimed James as he braked suddenly at the engine boarding dock.

"Is there somebody missin'?" piped up a small green tank engine with a thick Italian accent. Her expression quickly shifted as she noticed Salty and Porter calling out for an engine rushing towards James.

The large American tender engine only chuckled darkly.

Just as James' expression shifted, the Scottish engine bumped into him from behind with a loud CLANK! James was shoved forwards, making his pony truck dangle from the edge and for him to dip forward, as the other engine gasped in surprise.

"Nonono! Help!" he screamed as he panicked. "I'm going to go overboard!"

"James!" exclaimed Salty and Porter. They rushed forward to the engine-loading docks with many of the dock workers.

James helplessly reversed, dipping back and forth on the edge of the docks.

The workmen quickly grabbed a chain, attached it to the back of the Scottish engine, and connected it to James' tender buffer beam.

"Start pulling!" exclaimed one of the workers.

The Scottish engine struggled as his wheels squealed against the iron rails. Slowly but surely, he managed to pull the bright red medium-sized tender engine back on the rails. Once James was settled down and the workmen began to unchain the engines, cheers roared around the area for the Scottish engine.

"What a rescue!" exclaimed Porter.

Everyone was glad the engine had saved James and that nothing worse had happened.

But James wasn't.

"What is it with all you railway show engines? Charging about like you own the rails!" he fumed as he backed down and switched onto Porter's line. "What makes you so special anyway? Do you think you're better than the rest of us just because-!" He froze once his eyes met the stranger.

The Scottish engine was a tender engine with four leaders and four drivers, painted Indian Red with a lighter red and black used for his lining. His eyes were a warm brass, and he was about the same size as James. "S-Sorry, I’m v-very sorry!” he exclaimed, looking downwards and avoiding eye contact. “No’ ma intention tae bump ye. I-I should've lookit." he said. "I-I didnae ken ye there!"

James didn't answer. He glared at the foreigner, feeling insulted that the engine didn’t even bother looking at him. Great, just what I needed! he thought with a huff and a frown that slowly grew. Another red engine.

Noticing the rising tension, Salty broke the silence. "Uh, thank you for rescuing me. My name is James," he said, glancing at James to the Scottish engine. "What's yours?"

"Salty!" James scolded sharply.

But Salty laughed, and the Scottish engine joined, chuckling.

"Don't be silly, James. That can't be their name. That's my name!"

The foreigner's laughter subsided. "Edward. Ma name’s Edward," he chimed with a warm smile.

"Well, I can't stay here all day!" he huffed as he backed straight into Porter.

"James, watch out!" exclaimed the viridian saddle tank engine. It was too late as James bumped him back by accident.

Edward gasped as quietly as he could.

James was flustered. In a desperate attempt to cover his mess up, James huffed back at the other red tender engine. Red. He fumed at the thought. "I have work to do!"

"Hm?" Edward's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as his eyes followed the other red tender engine leaving the docks without his goods train.

~

Disclaimer: they don't fall in love in this story. We do not believe in the "Love at First Sight" trope here. It'll happen later.

For the new readers: If you've noticed that Edward's dialogue is a little weird, that's on purpose. You'll see why as the rest of the chapters are posted. It's important to his character.

OG description: Throwback to when I rewrote the Thomas and Ashima scenes with James and Edward instead in almost one sitting. I went back and cleaned it up once I decided to actually post it. Definitely more self-indulgent lmao

Each scene will have its own chapter so it'll give me the chance to slowly go through and polish them one at a time. :D

A few characters will be swapped out so that it makes more sense (by following EoSR).

#ttte james #ttte edward #tgr 2x5 roleswap au #ttte shipping #ttte edward x james #a dozen years #my writing #here comes a barrage of chapters for this fic #still one of my favorites /biased #ttte salty #ttte porter #ttte #ttte fic #ttte au #ttte 2x5 #tgr but there's a roleswap

[wooataes]

Real Eyes, Fake Lies (Part Two)

Pairing: soulmate!Lee Jihoon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: angst, Hanahaki!AU, mentions of death, mild suggestion of self-harm but nothing happens, swearing, lots of crying and feelings , lots of plot this chapter.

Summary: What do you do when you find out the one person that was created by the universe to be yours doesn’t want you back?

A/N: Thank you all so much for all the love on part one! I do apologize at how long it’s taken for this one to come out, it’s been a hectic last few weeks with Svt’s anniversary and my birthday 🥰 I hope you all enjoy and please feel free to send me an ask to talk about the fic if you’d like! - Tae 💜✨

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Jihoon’s ears hadn’t stopped ringing since he left your place 30 minutes ago, and although his home is only a 5 minute walk from yours, he couldn’t find it in himself to go home just yet. He had paced around the block twice and walked to a nearby park to sit under a tree and let his thoughts marinate. His stomach was in knots, hands shaky, and he couldn’t stop the tears from falling down his cheeks. To make himself feel better, he believed that this was because of your overwhelming emotions, not his. The weather was in his favor, the rain hiding the fact that he was crying openly in public. He had let his eyes wander at the new world around him as he gathered his thoughts in an attempt to remember the simple colour theory he learnt as a child. The grass was green, the sky was blue, the roses were red. His mind was sent into overdrive, still being unwillingly attacked with your heavy heart and heaving sobs rising up his body, but he knew he just had to bear it.

Jihoon was knocked out of his thoughts when his phone vibrated for the upteenth time. He sighs out of pure frustration as he looks at the screen, wincing internally as he reads through the barrage of texts from Soonyoung and one of his 3 housemates, Wonwoo.

Wonwoo🎮: yo where you at? min and soonyoung are here, we’re gonna do a game night.

Wonwoo🎮: soon said you were walking y/n home? I’ll save you a spot in the next round of Uno.

Soonyoung 🐯: hey, is everything okay? y/n shot me a text and said she left early. where are you?

Soonyoung🐯: you were supposed to be back at yours 20 minutes ago?? wons is getting worried.

Soonyoung🐯: okay if you don’t answer me in 5 minutes I’m coming to look for you.

Wonwoo 🎮: where are you, jihoon?

Prettyy/n✨ wants to send you a message.

Jihoon feels his heart jump at your Instagram request, and swipes away all of his texts to check the request. Oh god, what if you’ve outed him? What if you’re going to go on a plot of revenge to get back at him for breaking your heart by telling everyone that he’s your soulmate? What if-

Prettyy/n✨: nothing happened. you didn’t walk me home, you didn’t even meet up with me at the working bee. I texted you and told you that I had to leave early and I ran into my soulmate on the way home but they wanted nothing to do with me. you and ji-ah are safe, I won’t tell anyone. I promise. if soonyoung pesters you, tell him you didn’t even see me today. your relationship is safe, nothing will be spilled, just like you want. bye, jihoon.

Prettyy/n✨: and please stop feeling bad. it’s making me feel sick.

After breathing a sigh of relief, Jihoon simply likes the message sent by you to acknowledge that he’s seen it and silently thanks you in his head and starts to wipe his slowing tears. He frowns slightly when he feels his stomach twist again, but he chooses to ignore it. He can put this whole thing behind him now and focus on his relationship with Ji-ah, soulmates be damned. Should he feel bad for breaking your heart? Absolutely. And don’t get him wrong, he does, but you can get over it now and grow from it. Now you both are blessed with a world of colour, you can both benefit from it, he thinks to himself.

“Where the hell have you been?!” Soonyoung is on Jihoon as he steps into his house, shaking off his jacket and placing it on the coat rack by the front door.

“You know I like the rain, Soonyoung,” Jihoon lies easily, shaking his wet hair over him to get him to back off successfully. “Why are you even here, anyway?”

“Minnie had to work on a theatre assignment with Jun, so I thought I’d hang with you and the lovebirds while they worked.” He smiles as Jihoon looks down the hall to see the lovebirds in question, Wonwoo and Mingyu, sitting by the coffee table in the living room setting up playing cards. Jun and Seokmin are at the dining room table in an intense brainstorm session, writing down their ideas onto a book placed in the middle of the table.

“Sorry for not warning you I’d be back late, Wonwoo.” Jihoon calls out as he walks into the living room, standing close to the fireplace to warm himself up from the cold rain. The house looks weird now he can see what it looks like in technicolour, he thinks.

Wonwoo simply waves him off as Mingyu stays comfortably nestled against his soulmate's side. Jihoon eyes them for a moment before Seokmin and Jun make their way into the living room, talking about a well deserved break from their 20 minutes of brainstorming.

“Hi again, hyung!” Seokmin waves with a smile, settling down on the couch beside Jun comfortably. “Are you going to play this round?”

Just as Jihoon is about to respond, Soonyoung’s phone starts to ring.

“You start the round without me, it’s Cheollie hyung.” He smiles and Jihoon feels his stomach drop instantly. Oh, fuck. Soonyoung presses the phone to his ear with a cheery “hyung~” as he steps out of the room, his voice trailing into the front room as he walks.

“Actually, you guys start without me too,” Jihoon stammers out, suddenly feeling sick. “I need to go shower and warm up so I don’t get…”

He trails off as he watches Seokmin’s face begin to change, a look of fear covering his features. His gaze follows where his soulmate has walked off to, and he starts to rise from his spot on the couch. “Something’s wrong.”

“What’s wrong?” Mingyu asks quietly.

Jihoon feels a sense of dread wash over him as Soonyoung steps back into the room, immediately rushing to collect his backpack.

“Darling, what’s happened?” Seokmin is at his side in a flash, Soonyoung’s breathing increasing rapidly.

“I-I don’t know. Cheol just said th-that something’s happened to Y/N,” he throws his backpack over his shoulder. Jihoon winces, holding his stomach as the overwhelming urge to cry comes back to him in full force. “I gotta go to her.”

“I’ll come with you!”

Soonyoung is quick to take his soulmate’s hands in his own. “It’s okay babe, you need to study with Jun anyway. Cheol said she’s really overwhelmed right now and he thinks only I can help.”

“I hate that you’re right,” Seokmin whined, giving him a quick peck on the lips. “Text me when you find out what’s happened?”

“Of course. Sorry, guys, I’ll join next time.” He waves quickly before rushing out the door and running in the direction of your home.

“Oh god, I hope she’s okay.” Seokmin sighs as he slumps on the couch, Mingyu now sitting up beside him.

“What do you think has happened?” He asked quietly.

“Honestly?” Seokmin frowns to himself. “I don’t know. I haven’t felt Soonie feel that worried before in a long time. The last time he was that bad was when he couldn’t find Y/N on the 3 year anniversary of her mother’s passing.”

“Passing?” Jihoon looks at him. “How did she pass?”

“She never really told us much…” he sighed. “All she would say is that when she was eleven, her father got caught by Seungcheol cheating on their mother with another woman and he just upped and left. According to Cheol, their mother fell apart, she was in love with him for over 20 years, how could you not?… and on top of that, she got Hanahaki.”

A soft gasp from Jun was the only thing that could be heard in the hushed room, Jihoon’s teeth sinking into his bottom lip. He only thought Hanahaki was a myth, a silly story told by people to scare them into loving their soulmates.

“That’s why Soonie’s family took them in.. their mother only lasted 3 months after he left them. Y/N was the one who found her. Cheol said she didn’t sleep for days, and whenever she did, it was only for a few hours at a time. She had recurring nightmares that he and Soonie would help her through.”

“Poor girl. I guess that’s why Soonyoung has always been so protective of her.” Wonwoo mumbled thoughtfully, hand slipping into Mingyu’s and squeezing.

“She literally loved that man so much and he just threw it all back in their faces and legitimately killed his soulmate.” Seokmin grumbled, staring at the table in front of him. “And he didn’t even want Cheol or Y/N after everything. He’s a selfish bastard.” He hissed. “Fucking coward. That’s where Y/N went on the third year of her passing. She left to go to her fathers house to tear him a new one. Fucker deserved it, too. I don’t really know what happened, but all Soonyoung tells me is that he had a new family. She never tried to look for him again after that.”

Jihoon sinks quietly to the floor by the fire, hugging his knees. All he feels is shame, and now, dare he says it, worry for you. He really fucked this up, and it only had just begun.

A gentle knock sounds through your bedroom as you laid your head back against the wall tiredly. It had been an hour since you discovered the migraine of the brightly coloured world around you, and you still sat in the dark corner of your bedroom, albeit more quieter now than the last time Cheol had checked on you. You had stopped crying half an hour ago, now only feeling numb inside. When you insisted to your brother that you were fine and wanted to be alone, he had respected your wishes and left only after giving you a hard hug, and the promise that he’d be with you in a heartbeat whenever you called.

“What?” You mumble, eyes closed.

“It’s me.” You hear the door close behind Soonyoung, his footsteps drawing closer.

“What do you want.” You keep your eyes shut, knowing you’d fall apart if you saw your best friend in front of you. “Why aren’t you with Seokmin?”

“Bug…” he ignores your question, your body almost recoiling back in shock as his warm palms gently rest over your wrists, turning them over for a moment, seemingly checking you for anything abnormal before placing your hands gently into your lap. “Please look at me?” Soonyoung’s hand softly reaches up to cradle your cheek. You shake your head quickly, feeling the tears well up behind your eyelids.

“You should be with your soulmate, S-Soon.” You stutter, hands reaching up to rub over your eyes aggressively. “W-why are you even here?”

“Bug, what happened?” His thumb swipes over a stray tear that slipped down your cheek. Your eyes finally open to be face to face with your worried best friend, his big brown eyes filled with worry.

You hiccup, take a heavy breath, and open your mouth. Soonyoung waits patiently, still holding your cheek. As you attempt to speak, all that leaves your lips is a hard sob before your arms snake around his waist, your face burying into his shoulder. His hand reaches up to run through your hair, the other rubbing soothing circles up and down your back.

“Oh, Bug..” he sighs, squeezing you to his chest. “You’re okay, I’ve got you.”

“You shouldn’t.” You whimper, the shoulder of Soonyoung’s shirt growing damp. “You should be with M-Min.”

“But then no one would be here for you, silly.” He cooed, brushing your hair through his fingers delicately.

“Exactly.”

“Don’t be silly.” Soonyoung tries to lift the mood, jostling you in his arms slightly. “Until you get your soulmate, you are stuck with me.” You only sob harder, gripping his sweater tightly as he slowly stops his movements, his mind slowly catching up. “… Bug? Did you…”

“They didn’t want me, Soon.” You whimper, squeezing him closer.

“I swear, I’ll kill whatever fucker who did this.” Soonyoung had left your room after letting you cry in his arms for two hours, eventually letting the exhaustion finally catch up with you and drift you off into a dreamless sleep. He was now pacing in the kitchen, anger growing inside him.

“I’m right behind you.” Seungcheol growled, sitting at the dining table with his chin resting against the top of his intertwined hands. His leg was shaking under the table, watching his friend pace in front of him.

“How the fuck could they do that to her?” He barked, hitting his fist on the breakfast bar. “All the girl has ever wanted was to be loved, and the one fucker who was literally made to be that person to love her doesn’t want her?!”

“Did she tell you who it was?” Jeonghan asked quietly as his hand gently rubbed circles into his soulmate’s back. He could feel Cheol’s anger bubbling inside him more and more as the time went on.

“No. She’s protecting them. I don’t know why. Fucker doesn’t deserve to be protected.” Soonyoung grumbled.

“Being angry isn’t going to solve anything, babe.” Seokmin sighed, leaning against the bar. “All we can do is be there for her and support her.”

“What if she gets..-”

“She won’t.” Seungcheol rises quickly from his seat. “We won’t let it happen. It only happens if she’s in love, she’s nowhere near that stage yet.”

It’s late in the middle of the night and no matter how hard he tried, Jihoon just couldn’t get to sleep. The pain in his stomach had finally settled for a few hours, and he concluded that Soonyoung had caught up to you, calmed you down and helped you finally fall asleep. Seokmin’s words about your life kept repeating in his head and ate at his mind until he finally couldn’t take it anymore, reaching for his phone and wincing at the brightness as he opened up his search bar.

“What is Hanahaki?”

What? He frowns deeply to himself, as if trying to reason with his soul. Whether I like it or not, she is going to be a part of my life. I might as well learn now.

“Hanahaki is a disease contracted due to an unrequited romantic love. It is manifested in the form of flowers, which root themselves against the victim’s lungs that cause them to cough up petals and in some extreme cases, whole flowers.”

Jihoon’s thumb slowly scrolled through the information page, coming to a stop at a subheading.

“What is the Cause of Hanahaki?”

“The main cause of Hanahaki is when a victim’s soulmate does not reciprocate the romantic feelings harbored for them.”

“Is There a Cure?”

“In extreme cases there is a possibility that the victim is eligible for surgery to remove the blockage in the lung. The consequence to removal is the victim losing all feelings and memories in regards to their soulmate, and to never be able to feel romantic love ever again. As cases recorded show the victim’s refusal to lose their love, most cases result in death.”

That’s why her mother passed. Jihoon frowns to himself. If she had the surgery, she would have lost all memories of her kids.

He should be safe. You’re not in love with him. You have always known of Jihoon but never have had to spend time with him. You’re not gonna die from this. Who knows? Maybe Jihoon could find a way to get you two to be friends. He has known of some soulmates who keep their relationship platonic and it working out. He could try in a few weeks to press the idea to you.

A tightness builds in his chest, confusing running through his head. It’s - Jihoon checks the time on his phone - 3 in the morning, what is going-

He hiccups and feels tears start filling his eyes. In a matter of seconds, he’s feeling the urge to once again start sobbing and seek comfort.

This is going to be a long night.

Jihoon grows concerned when it has been over a week and he hasn’t seen you around campus. He keeps a subconscious eye out for you in common areas where you’re known to be with Seokmin or Soonyoung, but he only ever finds the two soulmates together. Soonyoung has been more withdrawn, Jihoon notices, but whenever asked by Wonwoo or Jun in passing, Soonyoung just waves them off. Jihoon wouldn’t tell anyone he knows the real reason.

Over the course of the week, like clockwork, Jihoon gets woken up in the middle of the night to pains in his chest and wet cheeks. It doesn’t take him long to figure out that you’re making sure he is asleep before you let out all your pent up emotions, which makes him feel even worse.

Ji-ah doesn’t notice anything wrong with her boyfriend, or if she does, she doesn’t say. She spends every lunch break at Jihoon’s table they share with Wonwoo, Mingyu, Jun and Jun’s classmate from dance class, Chan. Jihoon puts up a good front when with Ji-ah. He can’t walk on eggshells around her or she will get suspicious and he can’t lose her for a girl he barely knows. He smiles with his arm draped over his girlfriend’s shoulder, eating a mouthful of rice when he almost chokes on his food as he sees you walk into the cafeteria for the first time in over a week.

Soonyoung and Seokmin are on either side of you, talking animatedly about something that Jihoon can’t quite hear. He frowns when he takes a good look at you. You look paler than normal; even with his new perspective with colour he can tell you shouldn’t be this white. You have bags under your eyes and your hair is pulled back in a high ponytail atop your head, a pink ribbon tying it together. His eyes follow where you’re looking to see theater majors Boo Seungkwan and Yoo Jeongyeon at a table two spaces down from them.

“Finally!!” Seungkwan grins excitedly as he jumps up from the table, meeting you halfway as he pulls you in for a tight hug. “I’ve been dying without you in class. There’s only so much Lee Seokmin you can tolerate.” He whines as you let out a soft laugh.

“Imagine living with him.” You giggle as Seokmin responds with a ‘Yah!’ and a swat to your arm.

“Are you feeling better?” Seungkwan leads you to sit down beside him, Soonyoung flanking your other side and Seokmin joining Jeongyeon. “You still look pretty pale, Bug.”

“Ah, I’m getting there.” You feigned a laugh, waving him off as Jeongyeon reaches across the table and takes your hands in hers.

“I’m so glad you’re back.” She cooed. “A week is too long to be ill. I’ll hurt whoever gave you the flu and make sure they never do it again.” She smiled.

“I missed you too, Jeongs.” You smiled as you glanced at Seungkwan. “Fill me in on what’s happened in class. Have I missed much?”

Jihoon forces himself to stop listening then, shaking his head slightly before trying to tune back into the conversation his table was having, which currently was a discussion between Wonwoo and Chan over a certain video game that was just released.

“Okay, so, I’ve got some dress ideas I’m going to get made for Formal and I need a girl’s opinion.” Jeongyeon grinned, passing her iPad over to you.

You take the iPad and look over the 3 options of dresses with scribbles and annotations all over them as Seungkwan waves his chopsticks.

“Yah! I told you the style of number 2 would look SO good on you! Why do you need someone else’s opinion?”

“I don’t trust your judgment.” She glares as Seungkwan gasps and smacks his chest.

“Oh heaven forbid I can’t give a good opinion!” He whines as Soonyoung covers his mouth with a low chuckle, clearly not wanting to be involved in the bickering.

“I think the red suits you best.” You speak quietly. “The blue clashes with your skin tone too much and the dark green looks too wedding-y.”

You’re met with a prolonged silence from the table as you come face to face with your two classmates staring at you as if you’ve grown a second head.

“What?” You deadpanned.

“Are you telling me..” Jeongyeon whispered.

“It happened?” Seungkwan gasped.

“Mm.” You mumble, pushing the iPad across the table. “It’s not a big deal.”

“UMM?” Jeongyeon balked. “Not a big deal?! You’ve only been dreaming about this day for the last 20 years of your life!” She squealed, taking your hands tightly. “I’m so happy for you!”

The commotion at the table draws the attention of Jihoon’s housemates, who turn to look over at you, who is now sinking down in your seat, Soonyoung’s hand pressing on your back.

“What’s happened?” Mingyu called over.

“Y/N can see colours!” Jeongyeon responds excitedly.

Jihoon’s stomach drops, and he knows that it wasn't you this time. His knee starts to bounce slightly as he keeps an eye on you, the others at his table getting up to congratulate you.

“It really isn’t a big deal, guys.” You mumble.

“Are you kidding? This is amazing news!” Seungkwan cheered, Mingyu joining him.

“We know how much you’ve wanted this, Bug!” Mingyu smiles, ruffling your hair. “Tell us everything!”

“There’s nothing to tell.” You look away, reaching to take a bite of your sandwich.

“What?” Jeongyeon frowned, trying to get in your line of sight. “What’s gotten into you? I thought you’d be excited about this..”

“I would’ve been excited if they wanted me back.”

“Oh.. Bug, I’m-”

“Yeah, so forgive me if I’m not happy about being rejected by my soulmate.” You hiss bitterly, feeling the sting of tears burning your eyes.

“Oh the poor thing.” Ji-ah whispers to her boyfriend, eyebrows furrowed. She leans her head against his shoulder, and Jihoon just watches on.

“So what?” Seungkwan’s question shocked the others as you looked back at him in surprise.

“Huh?”

“So your soulmate doesn’t want you.” Seungkwan takes your hand in his. “You don’t need them now to see the beauty around you. You have us, don’t you?” He nudges your side. “And you have been blessed with seeing all of the world with new eyes.”

“He’s right, Bug.” Seokmin urged, smiling at you.

“I don’t see how this is supposed to help me, Boo. You haven’t even found your soulmate yet, so you wouldn’t know…”

“That’s irrelevant, Bug. We aren’t talking about me, we’re talking about you.” Seungkwan smiled and draped his body over yours dramatically. “Here, let’s change the subject, okay? You’ve been able to see colour for a while now, right?”

“Uh.. right..” you mumble.

“So, you have to have a favourite colour by now, right?”

“Oh..” Your lips purse slightly as you look up at the ceiling. “I never… I never really thought about it before.”

“Well, think about it now!” He chirped as he watched carefully for your thoughts.

“Uhh… well, there is one colour that I’ve been drawn to.. but you’re gonna laugh at me.”

“No we won’t, Bug.” Soonyoung soothes, smiling sweetly at you. “C’mon, tell us.”

“Well.. it’s brown.”

“Brown?” Jeongyeon frowns and tilts her head as you nod in confirmation. “What about something like pink?”

“It was the first colour I ever saw.”

Jihoon winced. He knew what was coming next, and he didn’t want to hear it.

“It was the colour of their eyes.”

Taglist

@cinnamoroxie @enhacolor @mikachu-chu @jojowantstocry @changbinisms @scarlet789 @i-dont-give-a-fok @im-gemmy @shookyungsoo @ametheyistheart

#seventeen angst #seventeen #seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #woozi angst #woozi x reader #lee jihoon x reader #woozi x you #woozi #woozi fluff #seventeen fluff #seventeen AU

[copias-girl]

To Catch a Cardinal: Chapter V

Song recommendation for this fic!

Chapter I, Chapter II, Chapter III, Chapter IV

A/N: Here’s another one for you guys! This is sooo high school cafeteria vibes 💀

•♥︎𖤐♥︎•

“He’s such a disgusting little rat.” Sister Emily growled, poking her spoon into her food, seemingly annoyed by the Cardinal’s mere existence.

“He’s such a disgusting little rat.” Sister Emily growled, poking her spoon into her food, seemingly annoyed by the Cardinal’s mere existence.

“I know right? He’s just… such a pathetic dork.” Lilith agreed.

You felt a scowl growing on your face as you took another bite of cream-of-whatever soup. Celery, you think it was. But who could pay attention to the soup with the vile conversation around you?

“Kinda creepy too. He seems like a weirdo, ya know?” Mable added, gesturing with her spoon.

“Yeah I totally get that vibe too! I mean, anyone who keeps rats as pets must be kind of weird, right? He’s like… one of those creepy loners.” Ava giggled.

“Exactly! I bet those rats are his only friends.” Emily laughed. “You know, he’s kind of like a car crash. Awful to watch but you just can’t seem to look away.”

“Why do you guys hate him so much? I don’t get it.” You interjected, setting your spoon down and looking at your friends expectantly.

They stopped talking, glancing over to you before their eyes flicked to one another.

“What, like you don’t? I mean.. come on.” Mable scoffed.

“No, I don’t hate him at all, Mable. He hasn’t done anything to make anyone hate him.” You responded. “I actually think he’s really sweet.” You added, earning a barrage of incredulous scoffs from the other sisters.

“Ew, don’t even say that! He’s disgusting and stupid!” Emily shook her head indignantly. “He’s so clumsy and honestly he’s just painful to be around, always dropping things and st-st-st-stuttering like a f-f-fucking idiot.” She scoffed. “I can’t believe you’re wasting your time being nice to him when you could be spending time with Rob. He really likes you, y’know.”

“Ugh, I know! You’re so lucky. Satan only knows what we’d do to be in your position. Rob is so hot!” Ava sighed dreamily.

“I’m not wasting my time being nice to Copia…” You scoffed, not even knowing what the reasoning was behind that. “And honestly? Rob is just a-“

“Hey, girls!” Rob’s flirtatious tone sounded above the chatter in the dining hall, causing you to roll your eyes as you cut yourself off.

He tried to pull out the chair next to you, but you placed your hand on the seat to stop him from sitting. “Sorry, I’m saving this seat.” You stated simply. Rob only shrugged, walking to the other side of the long table to sit across from you.

“Who are you saving it for? Seems like the gang’s all here.” He asked, not even hiding the fact that he was checking you out.

“Cardinal Copia.” You responded casually, causing Rob to chuckle, as if it was some sort of joke.

“Is something funny?” You asked, growing irritated.

“Oh, you’re actually serious??” He snorted. “You know, between you and me, I don’t think Copia needs a chair. More like a giant rat trap.” He said, causing your friends to burst out laughing.

“That’s a rotten thing to say.” You frowned.

“Aw, come on, sweet cheeks, don’t be mad. Rob smiled. “Hey, when are you gonna hang out with me, by the way? I’d like to get to know you better.”

“Um, we should all hang out!” Lilith suggested eagerly, the other sisters nodding rapidly in agreement.

“Don’t worry, ladies, there’s enough of me to go around! How about after lunch?” Rob grinned, but you only protested.

“No no, I’ll be busy, I have to work on Latin translations!” You made up an excuse. You were so preoccupied trying to avoid getting roped into hanging out with Rob, that you didn’t even notice Copia meandering into the dining hall with his little tray of soup.

He didn’t see you, instead going around to various tables to try to find a place to sit, but getting denied at all of them. Some of the siblings made up excuses like saving the seat for someone else, but others only gave him a dirty look and blatantly told him to go elsewhere.

“Sorry, no losers allowed.” A sister snapped, her whole table stifling laughter at Copia’s embarrassed expression.

“O-okay, eh, sorry..” He nodded timidly.

Your eyes widened as you recognized that pitiful little accent, immediately turning and spotting him.

“Cardinal!” You shouted, waving him over. “I saved you a seat!”

Almost everyone in the dining hall looked shocked that you wanted Copia to sit next to you, muttering amongst themselves about what someone like you could possibly want with someone like him.

A shy yet grateful smile found its way onto the Cardinal’s face as he began making his way to you. You sighed dreamily, gazing at him so fondly that you didn’t even catch what Rob was murmuring to Emily.

Just as Copia was passing Emily, she turned and stuck her foot out, tripping the man and causing him to fall forward, landing hard on the cold marble floor, soup spilling everywhere.

The poor man was stunned, barely registering what had even happened. After a few moments, he slowly picked himself up to sit on his knees, his gloved hands still firmly planted on the floor in front of him as his eyes were trained down at the spilled soup.

The whole dining room grew silent, except for judgemental whispers and hushed laughter.

The Cardinal felt tears welling heavy in his eyes at the humiliation, his heart aching as he heard the cruel comments and jokes from Rob and your friends. He always tried to remain positive and unfazed by the way he was treated, but in this moment he realized how much he was truly hated by everyone.

You were appalled; standing up so fast that your chair fell backwards as you knelt down next to Copia.

“Cardinal! Cardinal are you alright?” You asked, placing a hand on his shoulder, but he was unresponsive, still in shock.

You scowled at your friends with hellfire in your eyes. “He could be Papa one day, you know!” You shouted.

They looked surprised at your anger, but didn’t show one ounce of remorse.

“Yeah, I really don’t think so.” Emily replied, seemingly amused.

You shook Copia gently, trying to get him to snap out of it. He blinked a few times, swallowing hard as you brought him out of his daze. But instead of responding to you, he only rushed to his feet and began scurrying out of the dining hall as quickly as he could, shoulders hunched in shame, cheeks reddened from humiliation as tears glittered in his mismatched eyes.

“Cardinal!” You called after him, ready to chase him down before turning to your friends.

“How could you?” You spat, not waiting for a response as you ran after Copia.

You caught up with him just as he turned the corner, his steps growing faster and faster.

“Cardinal, wait!” You caught his sleeve, pulling him to slow down. He stopped just enough for you to push him up against the wall, caging him in so he couldn’t run away from you. It broke your heart, the way he refused to meet your gaze, the way slow tears began rolling down his flushed cheeks as his lower lip quivered.

“Cardinal..” You pressed yourself against him, getting soup all over yourself too but you could hardly care, not when you were pulling his trembling form into you, cradling the back of his head with your hand.

He sniffled into your shoulder, weakly trying to escape your grasp so you wouldn’t have to see him like this; a broken man.

“Please don’t cry, Cardinal. Just- Look at me. Please.” You cupped his face in your hands, caressing his tear-stained cheeks. He finally did, then, pulling away just enough to look you in the eyes.

“Everything’s alright, Cardinal. Are- are you hurt?” Your voice soothed him.

The poor man shook his head no, his gaze flicking down to where your bodies were touching one another.

“Oh no, I… M-mi dispiace, I… I got soup all over you too.” He sighed in deep disappointment, as if it was his own fault; the lines on his forehead deepening with guilt and worry.

You lifted his chin with a gentle finger, shaking your head. “It doesn’t matter, I don’t care.”

“Leave me, Sorella, go back to your amici.” Copia leaned his head back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling before closing his eyes as more tears threatened to spill.

“Not a chance.” You shook him softly, getting the man to look at you once more.

“But-”

“Listen to me, Cardinal.” You brought your hands up to his face once more, wiping his tears away with your thumbs before they could streak his eye paint too horribly. “We’re going to go upstairs, get cleaned up, and change. And then we’re going to come back down here in time for dessert, alright?”

Panic flashed on Copia’s face as he began shaking his head and stuttering. “N-no, I… I-I can’t face them, Sorella.”

“I’ll be with you. I won’t leave your side, Cardinal, and we’ll act like nothing happened. You’ll see, it’ll be okay, I promise.” You reassured him, pulling him into a comforting hug as you pressed your cheek against his.

“Sorella, they-” He sighed, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. “Maybe they are right about me…” He pulled away just enough to look into your eyes, shrugging hopelessly before averting his gaze.

“Well, my opinion of you is very favourable, Cardinal. So you shouldn’t believe a word they say.” Your hands smoothed up up up his chest, finding purchase on his shoulders and causing his breath to hitch at your touch and your words. He almost couldn’t believe his ears, that you of all people would think kindly of him. You were such a wonderfully nice girl, so he heavily suspected you were just trying to cheer him up, too sweet to admit out loud that he really was just a pathetic loser.

But that’s where Copia was wrong; you did acknowledge the fact that he was a pitiful, unloved, strange little rat man. But that’s exactly what got you going. That’s exactly the thing that kept you up at night, writhing around in your bed with your hand between your legs as you quietly mewled out his name.

“So, what do you say? Dessert?” You prompted him, softly rubbing the tension out of his shoulders.

The poor thing only nodded, eyes wide and lower lip flushed from biting it too much. Now that he had calmed down, Copia was suddenly shy and overwhelmed at the close proximity between the two of you.

“Good.” You nodded, satisfied with his decision, taking his hand in yours as you walked towards the stairs together.

You refused to let the other siblings win. You refused to let them drive Copia out with their cruelty. If he gave in, letting their bullying chase him off, he would let them have their victory.

But you, well, you had your own brand of cruelty that you enjoyed inflicting on the man. You loved watching him squirm, looking like a deer in the headlights as you subtly drove him deeper into insanity. Satan, the more everyone made fun of Copia, the more you wanted him; his woeful paltriness igniting such a strong desire deep in your core. It made you want to fuck him in front of everyone; right in front of everyone who had ever called him names and laughed at him. Maybe you would. Maybe you’d beg him to bend you over the dessert table and fuck you dumb, taking his cock until you forgot your own name.

Deep in thought, the two of you silently made your way up the stairs, stopping when you came to Copia’s quarters.

“I’m gonna go change and I’ll meet you back here, okay? My room isn’t far.” You told him, earning a nervous nod and a timid “Okie dokie…”

•𖤐•

You stripped down, tossing your habit in the hamper before looking through your closet for another one to wear. Humming to yourself, you selected one that you had been meaning to wear more often, pulling it out and slipping it on.

It was tight, fitting you like a glove. The skirt was floor-length, flaring out slightly, with a ridiculously high slit on both legs. The habit itself had long sleeves and was low cut, but it had a crimson nun’s bib collar which covered your shoulders and neck, almost making it look like you had a peekaboo hole to show off your cleavage. On the neckpiece sat a diamond-encrusted grucifix, dangling from the collar. Also, this habit had red trim everywhere: lining the two leg slits, the hem, the cuffs on your wrists. Also, the whole inside of the skirt was red, so whenever you walked, the flowing fabric showed off the shock of gorgeous rich crimson.

It even had its own matching habit with red trim, and a red grucifix embroidered on the back, so you swapped yours out for that. It looked absolutely exquisite, you were a vision in black and red. You smirked in the mirror, almost fearing that poor Copia would suffer a heart attack at the mere sight of you.

Once you were finished dressing, you hurried back to his room, hoping he hadn’t changed his mind.

As if on cue, the Cardinal stepped out of the room, wearing his red cassock and biretta. A quiet little gasp tumbled from your lips. You had only ever seen him in his black cassock, so this was a real treat.

“Cardinal…” You greeted him, a lilt of flirtatiousness in your tone as you sauntered up to him.

He looked at you, mismatched eyes widening as he did a double take.

“S-S-Sorella..!” Copia gasped, his gaze darting all around, desperately trying not to gawk at you. But Lucifer knows it was hard; you were sex on legs. Looking at you without thinking sinful thoughts was an impossible task.

“Is something wrong, Cardinal? Do I look bad?” You feigned worry, batting your thick eyelashes innocently as you approached him.

“N-no, not at all…! You, eh, y-you look… very, very nice, Sorella…” He stammered, wringing his hands in front of him, heart hammering in his chest as you placed a dainty little hand on his arm.

“Thank you, Cardinal.” You were so coy, twirling a lock of hair around your finger. “You look quite… ravishing in red.” You bit your lip, looking him up and down while toying with the hem of his pellegrina.

“T-thank you…” Copia swallowed nervously as he couldn’t help staring at you, his burning cheeks deeply flushed to match his cassock.

“Ready?” You asked, taking his arm.

The Cardinal nodded, and together you made your way back to the dining hall.

•𖤐•

Before turning the corner to enter the hall, you felt Copia slowing down beside you, his anxiousness growing at the thought of facing the siblings once more. He felt like a rat reentering the serpents’ den.

You gave his arm a comforting squeeze, turning to look at him. “I’m right here.” You assured him.

Those beautifully odd eyes were so big sorrowful as they stared back at you. He was biting his lip again, looking like he had something to say to you.

“Sorella… Ehm.. You said that… You said that I could be Papa one day? What did you mean by that?” Copia asked, confused.

“You never know, Cardinal. I believe in you.” You replied, eyes soft and dreamy as you gazed at him.

After a moment of soaking in your words, Copia nodded, still not quite understanding why you were being so nice to him. However, he trusted you fully as the both of you finally entered the dining room once more, just in time for dessert like you had planned.

Every head in that whole damn dining hall whipped towards you, mouths falling open and eyes widening as they took in the stunning sight of you and your Cardinal. You hadn’t even coordinated your habit to match his cassock, but Lucifer below, the two of you looked like you stepped out of a delicious cherry and black liquorice dream.

The hall was silent, the clicking of your heels echoing as you strolled over to your seat. You could tell Copia was extremely nervous with the way everyone was staring, but you allowed your confidence to encompass the both of you, giving his arm another little reassuring squeeze to remind him that you weren’t going to let him drown.

The Cardinal may have been painfully awkward, but he was still a gentleman, pulling your chair out for you before sitting next to you.

“Well, don’t stop on our accord.” You looked to your friends, who were still in awe of you in that habit, and also surprised to see Copia having returned.

“Where… Um, where did you get that habit? I don’t think those are issued out by the ministry.” Emily asked. It looked like she wanted to be angry about how spectacular it looked on you, but she was just too surprised.

“Oh this? It was a gift, from Papa. He had it made for me.” You shrugged nonchalantly, grabbing two coffee cups for you and Copia.

Emily’s mouth opened to speak but no words came out at first. “R-really? He… had it made especially for you?”

“Yeah, isn’t that so sweet of him? He came into my room and even took my measurements himself.” You casually wove the image into her mind, leaving out certain details that would no doubt drive her mad later. Did he order you to strip so he could wrap that tape measure around you? And you know what they say about measuring the bust; nipple to nipple. Exactly how high did his hand go when he was measuring your inseam?

You hid your smirk, knowing these questions would surely plague her every time she looked at Terzo.

“Cream?” You turned to Copia.

“S-si, please.” He nodded.

“Say when.” You told him, beginning to pour.

And pour.

And pour.

“Eh… When.”

Sweet Satan, this man didn’t like cream with his coffee, he liked coffee with his cream.

“Sugar?” You questioned, to which Copia asked for two.

You popped two sugar cubes into his cup, giving it a stir and pushing it to him.

“Grazie, Sorella.” He shyly thanked you, taking a small sip while you fixed your own cup.

You could feel Rob’s eyes on you as you looked over the numerous tiered dessert trays, placing some little pastries onto your plate.

Knowing that he was watching intently, you just couldn’t help your next move.

“Mm, Cardinal, you need to try this, it’s one of my favourites!” You chirped, holding a little cream-filled peach pastry up to his lips.

The poor man’s blush was creeping to the tips of his ears as he leaned in and cautiously took a bite, accidentally brushing his lips against your fingers. Once he pulled away, you popped the other half into your mouth, humming at the taste as you licked your fingers.

The Cardinal felt weak, so dizzyingly weak from you; a shock coursing through him as you placed a hand on his thigh, leaning forward towards the table and reaching for another pastry. It didn’t help that you kept carelessly kicking your leg back and forth under the table, your foot brushing up against Copia’s leg each time. Any sort of contact with you flustered him to the point that it was nearly painful.

Soon enough, your group of friends began talking normally once more, neither being mean to Copia nor acknowledging him at all.

Rob was right in the middle of trying to be ‘smooth’ and flirt with you when your eyes drifted to Copia, grinning endearingly as he shoved another pastry into his mouth. He looked a bit sad, his kissable lips pulled into a frown, eyes flicking to Rob and the way he was so obviously trying to pick you up. Satan, the Cardinal didn’t think you actually liked Rob back, did he?

“So, since we learned all about lust and rituals in class, I thought that maybe we could-” Rob just wouldn’t shut up, despite you looking uninterested in his loathsome advances.

You bit your lip, eyes locking on the thick smudge of frosting gracing the corner of Copia’s mouth. Scooting your chair closer until your leg was brushing against his, he looked towards you just as you reached up to wipe it away, bringing your hand to your lips and sucking the sweet, creamy frosting off your finger.

Poor sweet little Cardinal. His breath hitched in his throat, the hot blush on his cheeks nearly glowing by this point. You could practically feel the scorching heat radiating off him.

“Yum.” You licked your lips coquettishly; your hand trailing from his shoulder, down his arm, and mindlessly settling on his thigh once more.

“Sorry, you were saying?” You asked, turning back to Rob and noticing the other sisters’ wide eyes on you.

“Uh.. well- nevermind…” Rob sniffed, trying to play it cool as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

“Cardinal, are you feeling okay?” You cooed, returning your attention to the man and inching even closer. He was stunned, lips still parted in shock at your little stunt.

“Your face is the same colour as your cassock.” You giggled, brushing the back of your finger against his face. Your hands were always cold, so the sensation gave him some relief. However, the all-consuming fire of nervousness continued to torment him ruthlessly as you gently doted on him in front of everyone.

“O-oh..! Eh.. ehm- I-I’m okay, si…” Copia nodded, not quite convinced that he even was okay. How mortifying, that everyone could see the blush on his face.

“You’re so hot, Cardinal.” You remarked, biting your lip and pressing your cool hands against his cheeks, forehead, even lightly tugging at his collar for him. The poor timorous little mouse didn’t even realize that you meant it in both senses of the word.

“Enjoy this moment, Cardinal. Probably the only time you’ll ever hear those words being spoken to you.” Emily sneered, causing Rob to let out an amused snort, the other sisters covering their mouths to stifle a cacophony of laughter.

Copia flinched, looking meek as ever, her words cutting deeply into his gentle heart. But then you were looping your arms around his shoulders, giving him a squeeze as you looked toward Emily.

“Hm, I wouldn’t be so sure about that. He’s kinda cute.” You teased. The Cardinal’s eyes widened as he stiffened, looking so pitifully astounded that he almost seemed fearful.

“Well, if you think rats are cute then sure!” She retorted, words dripping in passive aggression.

“I actually think rats are very cute.” You responded simply, taking everyone- including Copia- by surprise. “With their big eyes,” your gaze flitted to the Cardinal’s eyes. “their pointy noses,” your eyes flicked to his nose, “their cute little whiskers.” you grinned dreamily, looking at his moustache.

Copia thought he was going to pass out. Were you trying to convey what he thought you were trying to convey, or was it just pure coincidence? No, no, it had to be a coincidence. No one as beautiful as you would ever be attracted to him, it would be impossible. Illogical. Nonsensical. Completely and utterly mad.

The Cardinal shuddered out a tense little exhale, his chest tight with anxiety as he inwardly scolded himself. He was going crazy, he just had to be. Satan below, he felt like such a dirty old man for even thinking of the mere possibility of you meaning anything by that. He was unlovable; he always had been and he always would be.

“Whatever you say, Sister. Perhaps you should schedule an appointment with the eye doctor.” Emily sighed, feigning concern for you.

“Yeah maybe you should, babe. How many fingers am I holding up?” Rob asked, holding up two fingers.

“My eyes are fine, thanks. How many fingers am I holding up?” You shot back with an amused smirk, flipping Rob off.

Your friends gasped at your actions before giggling, not taking it to heart as they found your quick wit and sassiness quite amusing, even when you were using it against them.

The Cardinal was absolutely shocked by your brazenness. You were this gorgeous goddess of a girl, so graceful and poised, yet borderline presumptuous in the way you kept people in line. And Copia greatly admired you for it; the way you were the exact opposite of him. Where he had no self esteem, you were bursting with confidence; where he was shy, you were bold. He always felt himself drowning in anxiety, being reduced to nothing more than a shy, stuttering idiot. It was a mystery how you always kept yourself so effortlessly cool.

“Anyway, I’ll have to remember how warm you are next time the heating gives out, maybe you can keep me from freezing all night.” You hummed thoughtfully, finally pulling away from Copia. You kept your voice casual and innocent as could be, as if you didn’t quite understand how inappropriate it would be to have him sleeping in your bed.

The Cardinal- who had relaxed considerably once you pulled away from him- stiffened sharply once more. It didn’t go unnoticed, the way his head shot up, mismatched eyes widening, mouth opening and closing as he tried and failed to speak.

“S-si, eh.. P-perhaps.” He bit his lip, staring down into his cup of coffee. It was ironic, usually the Cardinal was always a bit cold; it was just you who got him all hot and bothered.

You smirked at his torment, twirling a lock of hair around your little finger. But your hair wasn’t the only thing wrapped around your little finger. You had Copia all wound up too.

𖤐 to be continued 𖤐

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[pinkcrocss]

Limoreau #3: A Sense of Belonging

A/n: Hahaha! Another one-shot... Okay, I solemnly swear, I am not allowed to post anything else until I've posted at least one chapter of one of my two multi-chapter fics.

What can I say? When inspiration hits, it hits.

Heavily inspired by this amazing fan art by @beelze0-0

Jordan is sick of other people pushing their expectations on them...

1,900 words

“I’m super inclusive! So welcome to God U. We’d love to have you.”

“CUT!”

Jordan looked up at the director, from where they were perched on a picnic table out at the student quad. They couldn’t believe they had let themself be roped into this shit. But Brink had said taking part in this video would help keep eyes on them, further bumping up their q-ratings which would in turn help them in the rankings.

 “Hey Jordan! Look, I’m glad you agreed to do this and we’re so happy to have you representing our esteemed establishment, but we were actually kind of hoping you would film this in your female body.”

The stout director must have seen the frown on Jordan’s face because he hastily added, “It’s just that when it comes to inclusivity, a female spokesperson tracks better! It’s no big deal.”

“Easy for you to say.” Jordan thought as they reluctantly switched forms, feeling their clothes get a little looser and their hair suddenly touching their shoulders.

The director looked relieved as he headed back behind the camera.

“And go!”

Jordan started in on their rehearsed line, “I’m super inclusive! So we-“

“Cut!”

Jordan tried not to let any frustration bleed into their expression. 

”What seems to be the issue?” They tried to look cooly at the director.

“Do you think you could smile a bit more when you say the line? We’re trying to go for a more pleasant, feminine energy here.” 

Jordan could feel the plastered on smile on their face pulling tight at their skin.

“Actually, Erica! You think we could have makeup come over, maybe some blush and a touch of lip gloss would help.” The director went on.

Jordan went along with the rest of the shoot. A mantra running through their head for every minute that went by, “It will be worth it when I’m in the seven… it’ll be worth it when I’m in the seven…”

Hours later, Jordan sat at their desk outside of Brink’s office typing diligently on their laptop, as they graded Brink’s last batch of crimefighting essays. Glancing at their phone to check the time, they swore as they realised they only had ten minutes before they were supposed to be meeting with their parents at a restaurant across campus. Already they could see a barrage of unanswered texts from their dad.

Exhaling a long breath, they finished up their latest essay before packing up their things and rushing out of the crimefighting building. By the time they made it to just outside the restaurant, they were already 5 minutes late.

Catching their reflection in the window, they briefly panicked, realising that they were still in their female form. Not at all in the mood for an evening of barbed comments and sour looks from their dearest parents, they hastily transformed into their male form, feeling their body grow heavier as their hair shortened to right above their ears.

Walking in, they could feel the weight of their dad’s disappointed gaze. 

“Jordan?” He said. “You’re late! What do I always tell you? A man must always honour his commitments, right?”

Jordan could only take a deep breath, readying themselves for an evening of similar comments. 

“Yeah, dad. It was my bad. I was busy grading for professor Brink and-“

“Ah! Professor Brink! How is he doing?” Their mother cut them off. 

“I hope he’s been taking care of my little man.” At this point, she had gotten up and rounded the table to pull them into a tight hug.

“Well, not so little anymore. Look how how tall you are!” She grabbed his bicep. “And so strong! I hope you’re not overdoing yourself.”

“I’m fine mom.” they responded, slipping out of her grasp.

Sitting down, they opened up the menu and began scanning the options as their dad flagged the waiter. Having settled on a simple pasta dish, Jordan leaned back and settled themselves more comfortably as they waited for the waiter to approach.

Having gotten a passing waiters attention, their dad turned to them before suddenly donning a frustrated look on his face.

“Jordan.”

Jordan sat up, curious as to their dad’s sudden change of mood.

“Please… just sit like a man. You look ridiculous.”

Jordan followed their dad’s eye-line down to their legs, which they had subconsciously crossed as they had been getting comfortable. Flushing with embarrassment, they slowly uncrossed their legs and sat up, avoiding eye contact with their dad.

Seemingly satisfied, their dad decided to change the topic.

“Speaking of Brink… what’s the plan to get you ranked #1, huh? I noticed your social trending has been flagging a little.”

Jordan tried not to roll their eyes. Sometimes, it was hard not to feel like they were just a trophy to their parents. Something to take off the shelf and dust off in front of company, then put it right back away when there was no more use for it.

“Yeah, um.. I’m actually gonna be in the new campus welcome video for the incoming year. So that should help a bit with social recognition.” Jordan tried not to think about the disappointment on their faces, when they saw which form they appeared in in the video.

“Also, my combat stats are the highest on campus so far.” 

For a moment, their parents actually seemed to perk up at the news, both wearing expressions akin to haughty pride. 

Feeling confident, Jordan continued. “Yeah, and especially when I switch forms I’ve gotten more agile so Brink came up with this manuever wh-“

“Switch forms?”

Jordan immediately realised their mistake as their dad’s face morphed into a sour expression.

“Jordan!” Their dad was aggressively whispering now, as if afraid that other people in the restaurant would find out about what he considered, the more undesirable aspect of Jordan’s abilities.

“We’ve talked about this. You don’t need that part. Your strength, you’re invulnerability, that’s what’s going to get you to the Seven. Now stop embarrassing us and act more like the young man we raised!”

Jordan wanted to argue, but was scared of what might come out of their mouth if they did. Instead, they remained silent, face pinched, once again feeling like their skin was stretched too tight over their muscles and bone.

Finally seeing their waiter approach, their mother looked grateful for the excuse to change the topic of conversation.

“It will all be worth it… It will all be worth it…” Jordan kept reminding themself. They had to.

It was getting dark by the time Jordan was making their way back to the dorms. Shooting that video earlier that morning, grading all of Brink’s essays, a disastrous lunch with their parents, followed by a two hour lecture at their least favourite subject, Hero ethics, and all Jordan wanted to do was crawl under their covers and never wake up again.

Jordan felt stretched thin. Like a rubber band about to snap. But still they reminded themselves to just hold it together until they made it back to their dorm room.

It was days like this that Jordan was grateful that they no longer lived in the freshman dorms, and that their top ten status gave them leverage for a single room. Not having to worry about annoying roommates or being considerate of another person in their space, was a blessing they would never stop being grateful for.

However, as they neared their door, they got the distinct impression that they wouldn’t be alone tonight. Some niggling sense in the back of their mind told them someone would be on the other side of that door, so they weren’t surprised at all when they walked into their room to find Marie lounging on their bed, watching some kind of show on her V-pad[1] that she must have brought with her. 

She looked comfortable, stretched out in a pale blue sports bra and soft, black leggings. Jordan had surprised her with an illegally made copy of their dorm key about a month prior and had offered her use of their room whenever she needed to get away (really it was just an excuse to see her more often without sounding desperate. But hey, Jordan had an image to maintain).

Marie had set aside her V-pad to look up at them, gracing them with a blinding smile. “Hey, baby! How was your day?”

Jordan wasn’t sure how she did it, or what magic potion Marie seemed to possess, but at the moment she might have as well have been an oasis in a scorching desert Jordan had been traversing for weeks now.

Without thinking, they threw their bag to the side, uncaring of where it landed and dove towards her on the bed (careful to keep much of their weight off her, as they were still in their male form).

Obviously, they weren’t completely successful as Marie gave a beleaguered “Hmph” as they landed on her; wrapping their arms around her torso and snuggling their face into her soft belly.

They could hear her giggling above them.

“Hey.” They felt her rest a hand on the back of their neck. “Is everything okay? What do you need?”

“Nothing.” Jordan mumbled, their voice muffled as they pressed further into her. “Just this.”

Jordan basked in the warmth of Marie’s embrace, drowning themself in the vanilla scent of her skin. They needed to figure out what body lotion she used, so they could steal it for themself.

After a while, they finally had the energy top look up, only to find that Marie was already looking at them. What they saw in her eyes was nothing but warmth and adoration reflected back at them. 

Jordan was still in disbelief that they could be the recipient of a look like that, from Marie Moreau of all people! That was something that they would never stop being grateful for.

For a good minute, the two were seemingly locked in an intense staring match, neither willing to break the spell that had been woven in their little embrace.

A sudden curious thought popped into Jordan’s head, and without thinking, they suddenly switched into their female form. Continuing to stare into Marie’s eyes, they were shocked to find that her gaze remained exactly the same. Just warmth, adoration and acceptance. There hadn’t even been a momentary shock at the sudden change.

Jordan was fully overcome with a feeling they couldn’t decipher, and before they could reconsider, they were surging up towards Marie, kissing her with every intense emotion that they could muster. Gratefulness, all-encompassing trust, and love.

Marie of course was delighted, gently laughing into the kiss as she held their face with both hands, while caressing their cheek.

Kissing Marie always felt like a warm, heated blanket on a snowy day. Like solace. Like home.

Only when the need for air became desperate, did Jordan pull away, snuggling back into her torso as they felt Marie start stroking her fingers through their hair.

Jordan was so warm and lulled by the comforting motion, that they almost missed Marie’s question.

“Feeling any better?”

The answer came unbidden. they didn’t even have to look up.

“Yes. much, much better.”

[1] Remember Marie got a bunch of free tech from Vought when she made it to the top ten rankings.

#I still don't feel like my writing is getting better #But it is getting easier to get my ideas out #that's half the battle I guess #gen v #jordan li #marie moreau #limoreau #fanfiction #gen v fics #bigender

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

All Along the Watchtower (Chapter 18 - final chapter)

[Can also be read on AO3]

Pairing: Captain John Price x Fem!OC (3rd person POV)

Word count: 1.8 K

Warnings: Minors DNI - mentions of violence, swearing, morally gray war criminals with weird definitions of what 'acts of service' as a love language looks like

Summary: The final epilogue for the fic, tying off the loose ends.

December 6, 2017 14:11 - Stirling Lines, Credenhill, Herefordshire, United Kingdom 

Weeks had passed since she had come home to England once more. All physical traces of her bruises and wounds had faded away (the bi-weekly military mandated visit to her therapist allowing her to wade through what remained under the surface). Her head kept down and focused on her work, Rory was back to the safe confines of her desk, the protection of a computer chair and her monitor, as she went back to her duties: checking recon footage, tracking terrorist cell movements, listening in to chatter. Her phone and email went off with near constant notifications of new reports, new objectives, new threats, and then there was the back and forth with Laswell, keeping her up to date with the intel British armed services had collected long before it would ever be shared with American allies. Life was different at the SRR for her now, she wasn’t jealous or feeling defeated and left behind, she had a purpose. Her work was actually doing some good, she wasn’t merely placed there to keep her out of trouble – she was useful. 

Moving throughout the halls, heading towards the facilities shared with the 22nd SAS, Rory weaved in and out of the procession of soldiers and other staff that operated within the building. The sound of footsteps and chattering voices carried around her, bouncing off the walls, her head focused on the quickest path to the training room to work off some of the stress perching on her shoulders on the bag with her headphones in to tune out the rest of the world. 

“Sinclair!”

Price’s rumbling voice rose above the din, that hoarse bark of the Captain she knew all too well, intimately even. Freezing in place, she made a quick heel turn and faced him. Standing at attention, she gave him a formal salute, hiding any smile that wanted to form on her face, but that warm glow in her eyes was unmistakable. 

“At ease, Sergeant.” He stared down at her, maintaining a reserved disposition. Aloof, distant. “Got a moment?”

They were nothing more than two soldiers who had worked an op together – or at least that was the facade they put up, putting on the airs of a superior officer and a subordinate having a simple discussion in the hall. No shifting eyes to provoke questioning, or other servicemen looking in their direction. 

Rory relaxed and placed both hands behind her back, her neck gently craning as she maintained a neutral expression. “Yes. Is there something I can help you with, Captain?”

“Wanted to show you somethin’.” Rory’s brow lifted; her interest piqued. “Follow me.”

Traveling behind him, she did her best not to let her eyes wander down to those damn hips of his and the way they moved when he walked. Forcing them to stay firmly planted on the middle of his shoulders, which really didn’t do much to help, but it was better than nothing to keep her cheeks from flushing a rosy pink in a crowded hallway. 

Opening the door to his office, he stood at the entrance by the door jamb and tilted his head towards the doorway, urging her to enter. 

Stepping inside, her eyes scanned over the boring beige room. The desk was sturdy but had definitely been in here for far longer than Price was a Captain, handed down to him. His chair worn, the material on it puckering, the padding sinking inward. A chair set up in front, facing the window streaked with rain on the gloomy late autumn day. It was clean, sparse, and likely rarely used except for when he was barraged by paperwork and reports. 

“Take a seat,” he directed, shutting the door behind them. His eyes roaming over her in a long, lingering gaze.

Sitting down, she watched as Price moved around to the other side of his desk, turning his chair. Lowering into it, the seat creaked with his weight as his broad shoulders settled against the backrest. His steely eyes traveled over the room and he cleared his throat, leaning back into the chair trying to appear relaxed, but he just seemed stiff. It was clear being in a room like this was not his natural habitat.

“Got word from Laswell. Apparently, there was a rash of gangland shootings in Russia this last week.”

“Really?” She asked with disbelief, not entirely convinced by the cover story he was trying to cook up.  

Price hummed and bent to open one of the drawers of his desk. Reaching in, he tossed a file onto his desk, but didn't open it. “Made quite the stir.”

With a scoff, she moved to rest her elbow on the back of her seat. “I bet it did.”

His gaze locked onto hers, holding her captive in his stare. In the hidden depths of those cold eyes, she could see the danger that brewed below. Leaning forward, his arms folded on the desk on top of the file, his voice dropped to a low conspiratorial whisper. “Took care of a few problems for us though. Remember the man you kneecapped?”

She crossed her legs and sat forward, swallowing thickly. “The one you promised me we’d handle?”

“That’s the one.” A satisfied smirk pulled at the very corner of his mouth, barely noticeable, more closely resembling a flinch of the muscle. “Took a nasty shot to the head.”

Her brows rose with mild surprise and she couldn’t help but grin, the smug look on his face gave her every bit of evidence she needed to know that this tale of gang executions was clearly a cover. “What a shame. Must have been quite the shot though.”

“It was.” His brow lifted and he pushed the file towards her. Sitting back in his seat, he crossed his arms over his chest, puffed up with pride. Nothing more needed to be said. No more detail was required than that. He had been busy tying off loose ends since they had ended their mission, and he just confirmed it.

Flipping open the cover of the file, autopsy reports and crime scene photos confirmed his claims. Her eyes went wide at just how cleanly he had handled the whole issue, all evidence swept under the rug, nothing to trace it back to him whatsoever. “Fucking hell, you’ve been busy, haven’t you?”

A pregnant pause lodged between them, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable, rather it was silent appreciation of one another, lost in reverie. Acknowledging the fact that neither was concerned with the loss of a life that had been entangled with something that had been a living nightmare of Rory’s for almost a year. 

“He wasn’t the only one though,” he added, finally breaking the stillness.

“Oh?” She couldn’t wait to hear just how much chaos he had created in order to solve a problem, insisting on proving to her just what lengths he would go to for her. 

“Apparently Zorokov pissed off some very dangerous people.” The smirk on his face became obvious, he wasn’t even bothering to hide the fact that he had gone out of his way to take care of the man who had hurt her. There was a flicker of that feral energy that resided under the surface in his stare, before it receded once more into the depths, pleased with itself and the way it had managed to protect her. “You ask me, the bullet was too quick a death for him, but it certainly takes care of a problem, eh?”

Christ , that feeling that stirred in her gut at that look in his eyes was a savage reflex. He was a trained killer, and with what he had just told her, he let her know just how easy it was for him to take care of a threat, comparatively as simple a task as tossing out the kitchen garbage in the bin. If she was anyone else, she likely would have run for the hills – this was a man capable of violence and with a conscience that had learned to accept it and carry on, doing whatever he thought was for the best, no matter the cost. Yet, in the grand scheme could she really say she was any better (when she had wanted the Bratva boss handled, she certainly hadn’t pictured a simple bullet to the head)? Rory had to concede to the fact that her and Price weren’t so different, and she truly did appreciate the gesture from him. 

“Thank you, John.”

“No need to thank me, my girl.” He tipped his head at her, a quiet chuckle drifting from him as he shrugged his shoulders, acting as if what he had done was something anyone would do for their significant other. “Just thought you should know.”

She closed the cover of the file and slid it back towards him, sure that he would destroy these last shreds of what he had done now that his good work had been shared with her. “Well, all the same – I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome.” A small grin caused the crow’s feet around his eyes to crinkle, that dark, dangerous spark in his eyes becoming a gentle twinkle. “Now, go on. Can’t be hanging around me all day, darlin’. You’ll spoil our cover.”

“Yes, sir.” She gave him another of her playful salutes and pushed back her chair to stand.

“That’s a good girl.”

Shooting him a sideways glance, she caught his cheeky, confident grin before he slipped back into the mask of the hard, stoic Captain once more. Her brow cocked and a smirk pulled at her lips. “Really? Thought you’d just slip that one in, eh?”

He huffed out a quiet laugh, his lips barely parting into a smile. God, he’s good at that. Two sides to him like he was Jekyll and Hyde, able to maintain two very different personalities and not lose sight of them both. “Told ya, can’t help myself. ‘Specially ‘round you.”

A soft blush carried up her cheeks and her features softened for a moment as she looked at him. “We still on for next weekend?”

“So long as I’m not deployed anywhere. Yeah.”

“I’ll pack my overnight bag then. Been a while since my last time in Liverpool.”

“I’ll make sure to show you all the sights, my girl.” The purr in his voice already suggested exactly what his plans were for her visit, the only sights likely being the inside of his bedroom.

Giggling, she moved to his office door, placing her hand on the knob, looking back over her shoulder at him. “Thank you again, John. For looking after me.”

“Always,” he spoke with a furrowed brow and a quick shake of his head as if she was thanking him for something that she should have expected of him. 

Giving the doorjamb a little pat with her hand, she opened the door and headed back out into the hall, back to pretending that things were purely innocent between her and the superior officer whose office she had just walked out of as though they barely knew each other at all, back to the second life she had chosen to live to keep up her secret with him. 

#call of duty #fan fiction #cod fanfic #john price #john price x oc #oc: rory sinclair #fic: all along the watchtower #chapter 18 #final chapter

[koolkat9]

Royal Red Bros Week - Day 5

@royalredbrosweek

Prompt: Badly Injured/Verge of Death || Bonding

Rating: T

Relationship: England + Canada

Word Count: 1015

Read on AO3

Author's Note: So while working on this fic I was reading All Quiet on the Western Front for school so a lot of this fic was inspired by scenes in chapter 4 with some of the descriptions in this fic being descriptions in the novel.

Your Sword and Shield

Arthur hadn’t heard the first ‘take cover.' Instead, it was Matthew hurtling towards him and knocking him into the mud, followed by the first whistling then an explosion erupting that gave it away. Clumps of dirt rained down on them, though with Matthew practically on top of him, they never hit him.

The darkened sky popped with white, red, green. Like fireworks, but far more deadly. For a moment, he wondered if Alfred managed to get to safety or at least shield himself with something.

Before him, Arthur spotted a sinkhole made by a recent explosion.

“Matthew?”

There was no reply.

“Come on lad,” Arthur shouted, figuring Matthew couldn’t hear him above the heavy fire. “We need to get into the hole. We’re going to die out here if we…”

When Arthur managed to turn around he found his son limp on top of him, crimson trickling out of his mouth.

“Matthew…MATTHEW!” Arthur shouted again, shaking Matthew’s arm. “You need to open your eyes lad before–”

He was cut off by a shell exploding right next to them, tossing the both of them across the field. At least Arthur was finally free, but now he had to get himself and his giant of a son somewhere safe. Luckily they were tossed near a hole. Dragging Matthew with him, he jumped in.

As safe as they could possibly be, Arthur began to inspect the damage to Matthew’s body. The boy had already grown pale, his breath shallow, skin growing colder. His back was bloody from the barrage of fire, his side had a nasty gash from getting too close to an explosion. Grabbing his and Matthew’s field dressings, he attempted to wrap up the wounds.

Minutes later, when the gunfire and explosions finally died away, Alfred came to find them.

“Take your brother,” Arthur commanded, trying his best to carefully lift Matthew for Alfred to reach.

“What hap–”

“You know him. My sword and now my shield.”

Alfred went to say something else but pressed his lips together again. With Matthew out, Alfred reached for Arthur. Arthur batted his hand away and climbed out himself.

“God, what did you do this time Matt?” Alfred reprimanded, picking his brother up.

Arthur was already heading back towards the truck.

“Hey slow down,” Alfred barked.

“We need to get him medical attention if he’s going to survive.”

“Arthur.”

“We need to go.”

“You’re going to get him killed,” Alfred barked. “He thinks about you before himself every time.”

“He’s an adult,” Arthur snapped back, whirling around to face his other son. “He makes his choices. And he does the same for you. For Alastair. Even for Francis, though he won’t admit it.”

“Well…You–”

“We need to move. Or else he really will die. And you and I both know the pain of regeneration.”

— — —

When Matthew began to stir, he could tell he was in the hospital before he even managed to open his eyes. The stench of death and sick mixed with that distinct hospital smell. He let out a slight groan, the pain of his back and side catching up to him.

Instinctively, he went to push himself up having been laid on his stomach only for someone to gently hold him down.

“Relax love,” A gentle voice whispered. A voice he hadn’t heard since he was a little boy.

“Dad?”

“Shhh. Just lay down. Are you in pain?”

“Mhm…”

“Okay. I’ll see if the orderly can get you anything for it.”

Matthew heard shuffling, footsteps. A pained ‘no’ ripped from his throat.

“It will only be a moment,” Arthur murmured.

“Please…stay…”

For a moment, Matthew could picture himself, no more than six standing in the hallway as Arthur was about to set off for England. So many moments like that throughout his childhood. And as much as he wanted to cry out ‘stay,’ he never did. Not that it would have probably made a difference. But now…

“I…I don’t want…” Matthew trailed off.

“Okay…Okay, I’ll stay.”

Arthur took a seat beside him once more.

They were quiet for a moment, only the hurried steps of medical staff and the occasional screaming of a patient filling the room.

“You’re okay right?” Matthew finally asked.

Arthur’s face looked unfazed, but his eyes sparked with something Matthew couldn’t quite place. It made him shutter.

“I’m not the one in the hospital bed,” Arthur answered shortly.

“True…”

Silence again. Or as silent as you could get in a field hospital.

“Am I going to make it?’ Matthew asked.

Arthur was quiet for a moment. Closed his eyes and took a breath. “I don’t know. The orderlies don’t seem to think so, but they don’t quite get how our bodies work. But either way, I’m going to get you out of here and back home as soon as possible.”

“No. No. I’ll heal. It doesn’t take too long, so I’ll be back out there–”

“You’re going home to recover. Especially if you really are going to die. I don’t want you to have to go through the reset in this place.”

“But I have to–”

“You don’t have to do anything. You’ve done more than enough. I’m standing here because of you. But I can’t have you out there in a weak state.”

“Dad I–”

“That is an order. You will be going home in a week if I can help it.”

Matthew paused for a moment, simmering in the command he was given. “Can I at least go stay with Auntie Niamh? That way I’m not making a long trek across the ocean like this.”

“I suppose… that would be best,” Arthur said slowly. He coughed awkwardly. “I’ll figure out the details. Just…rest for now.”

“Okay…B-But you’ll stay right?”

Arthur’s unreadable eyes finally softened ever so slightly. “Of course.”

As sleep crept in, Matthew felt Arthur brush his bangs out of his face. Just before he nodded off again, Arthur pressed a kiss to his forehead. And for a moment, Matthew felt no different than that six-year-old boy, but now his father would stay.

#hetalia #hws #royal red bros #royalredbrosweek #royalredbrosweek2024 #hws england #hws canada #hws america #fanfiction #hetalia fanfiction #my writing

[octopusoptimusprime]

fic recs for the new year <3

shamelessly stolen from @bookinit02

in no particular order

a dream always the same - sevensided

i don’t think there’s a single byler left who hasn’t read this fic, but just in case … here you go

“Mike learns more about himself in four months than he has in fourteen years and comes to realise that he's fallen in love with his best friend.

A four part historically accurate coming of age story set between July and October 1985.”

35 chapters, 99k words

i’m tearing you asunder - @smoosnoom

you already know i adore every one of moon’s fics, and this is another classic, but for good reason

“ “Did I do something wrong?” Mike questions, mouth twisted in a frown, eyes less wide than they were a few moments ago, sleepiness gone. His arms stay at his sides, although his fingers fiddle with his sleeves. “What did I do wrong?”

Will frowns back. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Mike doesn’t look like he believes him. Will doesn’t blame him. “Then why do you keep leaving?”

The world ends, and then some. Mike and Will find each other again, amidst the debris and distance.”

1 chapter, 21k words

as the world caves in - @bookinit02

another author i adore. and jealous will is something to behold for sure

“So. Sobriety it is. Just a nice, sober night, all alone, waiting for Mike to get back. If he gets back. Maybe he’ll be… otherwise occupied.

Will groans and flips over, pressing his face angrily into his pillow. Stupid Will. Stupid brain. Stupid jealousy.

He’ll just sleep. He’ll just sleep, and he will not dream, and if he does he’ll forget about it. It’s fine. He’s fine. Everything is fine.

He doesn’t know which he’s more afraid of: the bad dreams, or the good ones.

—

After season 4, Mike comes back from a party drunk. Some things happen. Words are said.”

1 chapter, 5k words

undertow - @byeler

incredibly obsessed with this fic. oh my god. also, platonic madwheeler!

“Will has never had his first kiss. Mike is happy to lend a hand.”

2 chapters, 11k words

there is thunder in our hearts - @smoosnoom

LATE NIGHT BYLER CONFESSIONS EVERYBODY.

“ “Yeah,” Mike nods, but it isn’t the most convincing, and he can’t find it in him to care, in the late hour, “I was just – thinking.”

It’s not the most significant outfit, but still. Will looks nice. He’s always looked good in white.

Mike blinks. That’s – weird. That’s a weird thing to think about his best friend.

He effectively turns off his brain.

Will asks, “About what?”

“You,” Mike replies, and maybe turning his brain off was the worst idea he could’ve possibly had at nearly three a.m., Jesus fucking Christ.

Mike confronts Will about the painting, and lets a few confessions slip.”

1 chapter, 9k words

molten - melancholicslaughter

s4 infill! willel siblings! wholesome byers family!

“Will Byers likes to imagine the end of the world like this: under a red sky splotched with smog and storm clouds, and a barrage of blood-diamond hail, the ground crumbles and splits and opens into a molten sea that swallows up half of Hawkins and leaves the other half screaming, generating heat from the endless friction of their vocal chords, tugged taught by their fear like ropes holding church bells aloft. The end is all heat and stolen agency, all kinetic energy with nowhere to go but the parallel seas of red, above or below. He likes to imagine it as incomprehensible chaos, turmoil in the way the fanatics describe it in Revelations.

He likes to imagine that the end feels like something akin to heartache, disappointment, rejection, and unwanted feelings, because in the scope of his fifteen years, unrequited love is the worst kind of suffering he’s experienced- before monsters and abduction and possession- and therefore, the most apt for apocalyptic comparison.

-

Or, s4 missing scenes: Will Byers is in love w/ Mike (and he's very internally dramatic about it), Eleven does some road-trip introspection, & in Hawkins, Joyce and Will have a heart to heart (one that I've been waiting two seasons for)”

1 chapter, 4k words

i’d love to see me from your point of view - unidentifiedblackthorn

byler getting high. this is probably the fic i’ve reread the most times … ever. i’m genuinely obsessed with mike in this.

“Now that Will’s sitting and Mike’s the one that’s standing, he looks impossibly tall. Tall and lanky, and huge. He should sit back down, Will thinks, lay back down next to Will and stay in their own secluded little bubble.

“I really want to kiss you,” Mike says, and Will’s eyes snap back up to his so violently he thinks he hears his own neck crack with the force of it.

“Don’t,” Will croaks, before his brain has even processed the words. “Don’t say that.”

“Okay,” Mike says easily, still staring. And what the actual fuck is going on? Is Will hallucinating? Is the weed making him hallucinate? “So sausage and pepperoni?”

Will stares dumbly at him. “Um - yeah. Yes.”

“Cool,” Mike replies and then just turns around and leaves Will sitting dumbly in his own room.

or

Mike and Will get high on Jonathan’s weed and Mike has an amazing idea.”

1 chapter, 8k words

the evening speaks - @futureboy-ao3

i’ve talked about this fic before but i just adore it with my whole heart. i’m not usually a big fan of AUs but this is just executed and characterised so flawlessly. also, listen to the songs they play while you’re reading. trust me.

okay unfortunately it has. disappeared from ao3. i am very upset

well, if you’ve read it before, remember it i guess

everything changes, what a shame - @andiwriteordie

sort of another classic in the byler fic world, but another excellent one. s4 rewrite with a one year time gap.

“ “And us?” Will challenges. He looks Mike directly in the eye, nearly taking Mike’s breath away once again. Mike’s heart races inside his chest.

“We’re friends,” Mike says defensively. The implications of Will’s words aren’t lost on him, so for good measure, Mike emphasizes, “We’re friends, Will.”

“Yeah well, we used to be best friends, Mike!” Will shouts, and his voice cracks again.

Or:

In the aftermath of the Battle of Starcourt, Owens immediately sends the Byers and El away from Hawkins with specific instructions to not contact anyone until things have cooled down. Now, nearly two years later, Mike finds himself in California for what will either be the best—or the worst—spring break of his life.

(Aka my season 4, Mike-centric, Byler rewrite)”

11 chapters, 62k words

meet me in the afterglow - delusionaltogether

soft byler amidst the apocalypse. mike doesn’t know how to apologise (he’s so me fr)

“mike and will find their way back to each other while they wait for the world to end.”

1 chapter, 6k words

i’ll find myself in the moonlight - @byeler

any painting-centric fic i am just going to love. no question. but oh, this is incredible and devastating and everything else. also i just love anything that they write

“He looks up at him, eyebrows drawn together. “Do you not love her?"

Mike shrinks back. “What?"

He hadn’t meant to say it. He wouldn’t have, if he’d stopped to think about it for half a second. But it’s too late to take it back, and he can’t breathe until he knows the answer, and he looks at him resolutely and says, “Do you only love her because of what I said?

Something darkens on Mike’s face, twisting it into a shape Will’s never seen. “Get out.”

It’s not a no.

or: Mike and Will share a room, and Mike finds out the truth about the painting.”

1 chapter, 16k words

sealed with a kiss - @astrobei

i am so thoroughly in love with their writing oh my GOD. this fic is hilarious, brilliant, and utterly mike.

“ “Dude,” Dustin says, sounding kind of horrified but also kind of delirious with elation. “Oh my God, you like him. You like Will. Will. As in, our Will. Our best friend Will.”

“I do not–” Mike tries, even though he’d kind of just admitted to accidentally kissing Will Byers, a little, so maybe that’s an entirely fruitless road to go down.

Listen. No one should ever let Mike make decisions right after he wakes up from a nap, okay? Especially not decisions where Will is concerned. This is so not his fault.”

1 chapter, 9k words

let me steal this moment from you - @smoosnoom

i am #1 moon enjoyer it’s True. also what did i say about nighttime byler confessions !?!?!!?!?

“Mike moves in his bed, and Will's eyes stay firmly on the ceiling. "I feel like we barely know each other anymore."

And Will can't argue with that, so he replies, "What do you want to know?"

There’s a long lapse of silence, and then –

“Can you come up here?”

In the wreckage, Mike and Will spend a series of nights together.”

1 chapter, 13k words

i might be hoping about this - @astrobei

very obsessed with them. protective mike x definitely-not-sick will. <3

“Will lets out a small squawk as Mike’s hand— his very cold, very freezing hand— finds its way around the blankets and under his sweater. “I’m sick, you weirdo,” he says, half-laughing into the side of Mike’s head, “I have a fever.”

“I don’t care,” Mike mumbles, “you’re warm and I’m cold. This is nice.”

“You’re going to get sick,” Will tries, for the umpteenth time, but it’s pointless. Mike Wheeler is stubborn and hardheaded and he never does anything halfway— not even this.

Will gets sick. He's dealing with it. Seriously, Mike- he's fine.

(or: a study in intimacy.)”

1 chapter, 15k words

you can hear it in the silence - @astrobei

very VERY obsessed. mike&robin. reunited byler. *screams*

“Will moves back to an upright position, wiping his hair out of his eyes, head and shoulders peeking above the water. “Mike,” he says, pulling Mike up with him, their fingers still intertwined.

“Yeah?” Mike says, tilting his head so the water trickles out of his ears, wincing slightly. “What is it?”

Will’s eyes dart back and forth between his, and then Mike feels his hand squeeze his own. “I don’t want you to, like, think I moved back for you,” he starts, which in and of itself would be enough to get Mike’s soul soaring straight out of his own body, if it weren’t for Will’s thumb pressed against his pulse point like some kind of mortal tether. “Because it’s not like that, I promise. But I think– I think I realized there’s a difference between things you want and things you need, you know?”

mike wheeler on losing people and having them again, the difference between wanting and needing, and finally letting go.

ft. robin buckley, will byers, and the mortifying ordeal of working in the food service industry.”

1 chapter, 36k words

-

that’s it! thank you <3 forever grateful to the authors that feed my hyperfixations :D

have a good 2023 my lovelies

#byler #byler fic rec #fic rec #st fic #byler fic #stranger things #mike wheeler #will byers #gay mike wheeler #will x mike #gay will byers #byler nation

[poledancingdinos]

Hostile Territory - Chapter 10

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC (Leah Coleman)

Word count: 3.8K

Warnings: none for this chapter

Catch up: Series Masterlist

Taglist: @amberangel112 @utterlyhopeful-fics @marantha​ @kebabgirl67 @littleone65 @omgkatinka @luclittlepond @elizabetharegina @enchantedbytomandhenry @narnianaos   @geralts-yenn @peaches1958 @avengersfan25 @sillyrabbit81 @summersong69 @identity2212 @liecastillo @lena-banena @mrsevans90 @confessionbrain-writings @eclecticfashionbookszipper

Masterlist

Day 123

For the first time since arriving on base, Leah was drawing outside of the comfort—and safety—of her closet, an action which she regretted before having even finished the minimalist design.

Someone had left a spare napkin on the table and she’d pulled a Sharpie from her pocket almost on instinct. It was one from the pack Caleb had sent her and she quickly found comfort in the familiar motions and the sensation of the marker gliding over the rough paper. She hadn’t realized her unusual action had drawn the attention of the other soldiers until the napkin was unceremoniously yanked out from under her hand.

“Whatcha doin’ Coleman? Doodling little love hearts? Bet you there are a bunch of little ‘BJ’s on here, aren’t there?”

She didn’t mind the teasing words, knowing he wasn’t being malicious. BJ was a softy at heart despite his gruff looking exterior. What sent her into a panic was the idea of people judging her work.

Drawing was something she did for herself—for her own taste. She knew her style didn’t appeal to everyone but that didn’t mean she was enthusiastic at the idea of having other people commenting on it.

“BJ give that back!”

She jumped up from her seat and reached for the napkin but the man just raised his arm above his head, keeping it well out of range. Before she thought better of it, she lifted one foot onto the bench and launched herself up, landing on BJ’s back. She buried her hand in his hair, forcefully yanking his head back while pushing herself up his shoulders with the other.

“Woah, easy there, cowgirl! I surrender, I surrender!” he laughed, lowering his arm and waving the napkin in front of her face. Leah released her grip on his hair, reaching forwards but BJ was faster, catching her arm with both hands. Before she could hope to defend herself, he jerked forward, pulling on her arm and sending Leah flying over his shoulder. She fell onto the table with a loud metallic clang but BJ controlled her fall, making sure that, despite the noise, she didn’t land too hard on her back.

Leah broke into a fit of giddy laughter, knowing she’d been beaten. Thankfully, it was between meal times and there were no hungry soldiers around to complain about having their barely palatable army food crushed under her weight.

Or no grumpy captain to scold them about roughhousing in the mess hall.

“Holy shit. Coleman, did you draw this?”

“No, it’s a magic marker that does it all on its own,” she sassed, rolling herself into a seated position.

“What did Coleman draw?”

Leah looked over her shoulder to find her boys walking into the mess hall. She’d been on watch with BJ most of the morning and had lingered after finishing up her late breakfast. From the looks of the guys, they’d used their morning to have a bit of a workout before attending their duties for the rest of the day.

“It’s nothing, really,” she tried to tell Jeremiah but her plight fell on deaf ears.

Ethan climbed onto the table, sitting by Leah and throwing an arm around her shoulder to keep her pinned in place while the other’s huddled around BJ to see what had him so impressed. She bit her lip, bracing herself for the barrage of criticism to come.

“Dayum, Coleman, you been holding out on us! Is this why your brother sent you the markers?”

A shy nod was her only answer.

“That’s really impressive,” Rohan complimented.

Leah looked down at her boots, mumbling her thanks. Though she didn’t show it, it was like a giant weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She’d heard many different comments about her art. Most people said it was way too dark and that a pretty girl like her should be drawing soft landscapes or flowers rather than splattering black ink all over the page.

“Can you do skulls?”

Leah lifted her head, her eyebrows flying up. “What?”

“Can you draw a skull like this?” BJ turned the image of the grim reaper towards her.

She nodded. Of course she could draw skulls. She could probably do them blindfolded and with her left hand. It was a staple for any angsty teenager but especially her who was fond of a darker art style.

“I’ve always wanted to get one tattooed but I don’t know what it would look like once it’s on me, you know?”

“Wait, you want me to sketch one on you?”

She was sure she’d misunderstood him but BJ tipped his chin. “Is that okay?”

Leah bit her lip, considering the request. She’d doodled on her own skin a million times before so she was no stranger to working around the curved surface of a body. She had simply never done it to someone else. Plus, if she said yes, that meant getting up close and personal with the giant who’d become a good friend. Then again, they’d been wrestling just a few seconds ago, was drawing on him really so bad?

“Where do you want it?” she finally asked.

“I was thinking on the back of a calf or something.”

The calf wasn’t so bad. It didn’t require pushing the generally accepted boundaries of a platonic friendship. “Sure, I could do that.”

BJ tossed the paper on the table and began to untuck his pant leg.

“Wait, right now?” Leah asked, her voice definitely not coming out as a squeak.

BJ paused, half kneeling as he unlaced his boot. “Yeah, why not? You got anywhere you need to be?”

It was a rhetorical question since he knew damn well they both had some free time. Leah slid off the table, picking her marker up off the ground where it had fallen after her and BJ’s impromptu sparring session.

“Alright, uh,”  she looked around the room, “lay on the table, I guess.”

Ethan moved aside, so BJ could stretch out onto his stomach. Leah straddled the bench, facing the same direction as BJ, and rested her elbow between his legs. She tested the position, readjusting to be closer to the man’s feet then rolled the fabric of his pants out of the way.

“You know, if this were a real tattoo, I’d be shaving your leg first.”

BJ was one of those guys who was hairy all over and it suited him well. Luckily, the hair on his calf was a bit more sparse so it wasn’t too hard to draw over.

“Don’t you fucking dare, Princess.”

“Call me Princess again and you’ll be walking around with a thousand dicks on your leg.”

The five men laughed, taking their own seats around them to watch Leah work. No pressure, or anything.

“Hey, Rohan, smile for me real quick.”

The man did as she asked, holding the position long enough for Leah to mentally map out where each tooth should go before she began to trace a fine outline. Just because she could draw skulls blindfolded, didn’t mean she wanted to do the job half-assed and Rohan had a great smile. No one spoke as the basic design took shape.

“Did you just want a skull or did you want a background too?”

“Honestly, I never thought about it. Draw whatever and if I hate it then you can do something different after it washes off.”

Leah studied the draft skull, conjuring up an image in her head of what she wanted the final result to resemble. She settled on something simple, a partially fractured skull with curls of billowy smoke escaping from within. She didn’t have many options for shading so she decided on using dotwork to create the desired effects.

“Why is BJ sleepin’ dick down on the table where I eat?”

The mess hall had been so peacefully quiet that almost everyone startled at the sound of Captain Syverson’s deep voice. BJ, who actually had been lightly dozing, only opened one eye to find the Captain standing arms crossed in front of him.

“Coleman is taking my virginity.”

His comment earned him a slap on the back of the head before Leah dropped back into her seat.

“What? My skin is virgin, if nothing else about me.”

Leah used the moment of distraction to shrug off her jacket, setting it aside before returning to her position over BJ’s calf to put the finishing touches on her design.

“Have you shown them any of yours yet?”

Leah froze as Sy asked his question, feeling all eyes turning towards her.

“You mean you’ve got tattoos hidden somewhere under all that desert camo?” Ethan lifted an eyebrow with a suggestive smirk.

“A few,” she admitted, putting the cap back on her pen. “You’re all done, BJ.”

The man lazily pushed himself up, looking over his shoulder. He bent a few different ways before admitting defeat and sitting up to get a better look at the temporary tattoo.

“Holy shit! Coleman, I knew this would look fucking epic.”

“I’ll draw it up clean in my sketchbook tonight so you can show an artist if you ever decide to take the plunge and get it done right.”

“Done right?” he repeated. “Don’t need it done right, I need it done like this.”

Leah lowered her head again, feeling uncomfortable with the sudden influx of praise. “I’ll find you when I finish it.”

“Looking forward to it,” BJ said before he marched out of the room, leaving Leah and her team alone with Sy.

“Can you show us yours, Leah?” Benjie asked with genuine interest. A lot of the time, her sports bras concealed most of her ribs so it wasn’t surprising that they had never noticed it the few times she had been without a shirt. 

“The ones on my thighs will have to wait until I have shorts but I can show you the siren,” Leah answered, untucking her shirt.

Though Sy had perused her sketchbook, he hadn’t seen any of her tattoos either. He watched with rapt attention as Leah pulled her shirt up. Her fingers dipped under the stretchy fabric of her bra, moving it aside to expose the full body of the siren.

“Wow, you drew that too?” Rohan asked, adjusting his glasses and leaning in to get a better look.

“Yep.”

Glancing up, Leah found Sy studying the design from a few feet away. His face was impossible to read but she hoped he liked what he saw.

What she didn’t realize was that Sy was staying that far away because he liked what he saw a little too much. The display before him wasn’t meant to be erotic but with Leah’s stomach, ribs and even part of her lower breast exposed, he was afraid that if he got too close he might be tempted to touch.

“You should do Sy next,” Jeremiah suggested, pulling a protein bar from his pocket and taking a big bite out of it. That boy was always eating. How he kept his eight-pack, Leah would never know. Especially because his appetite was always worsened by a good workout.

“The hell she is,” Sy answered. He had nothing against tattoos, but he knew his Mama would have a fit if he ever showed up at her porch with a mark on his skin. Although, the suggestion did make him wonder what she would draw on him. Or what her hands would feel like on him.

“I bet a chest piece would look good on you.”

Not for the first time, Leah regretted having spoken as soon as she’d finished her sentence. She only hoped that it wasn’t too obvious that she’d actually thought of that before. At first she had considered whether or not he had any tattoos hiding under those tight, muscle-fitting shirts. That is, until she saw him shirtless for the first time and began imagining what she would design to fit the wide expanse of his chest.

“Doubt you’d be able to get much done under his chest hair. You’d definitely have to shave him first,” Jeremiah laughed. Leah was grateful that he was messing with Sy rather than with her.

“I’m gonna reiterate that this is a ‘hell no’ type of situation.” It wasn’t actually but he couldn’t let them know that.

“Why not?”

Had she been the one to say that? Yes, yes she had. Shit. Sy’s expression of surprise mirrored her own.

“You actually want to do this?”

An opportunity to see her vision come to life and getting to touch Sy all wrapped into one? Yes, of course she wanted to do it. The idea was all too alluring but nothing good could come of it.

“I’ve never really drawn on anyone but myself,” Leah shrugged, hoping to appear indifferent rather than eager, “it could be a fun challenge to have a big canvas to work with.”

“Tell ya what,” Sy began, tilting his head from side to side and cracking his neck, “you beat me at hold ‘em, I shave and I let ya draw whatever ya want on me.”

“Ooooh,” the boys said in unison.

“What if I lose?” There had to be a catch. He was probably going to say something outrageous just to get her to back down.

“You’ll owe me one.”

How very cryptic. It was obvious that Sy didn’t think he would lose. She had never actually played against him since the guys had opted for ‘Never have I’ the only time he’d offered to deal her in. If she accepted it would just be the two of them. That alone had Leah nervous but she couldn’t let it show. She had to mask her emotions as well as he did—better even—if she wanted to have any hope of winning. 

“You’re on, Cap.”

The acceptance of his challenge was followed by a chorus of oohs from her men.

“Cards are in my office.”

“You got a razor in there too?” she teased, taking her jacket from the table and following Sy out of the mess hall.

Sy had gotten used to Leah’s sarcasm but this was different. This wasn’t her lashing out as a defense mechanism, this was a friendly taunt. For months Leah had kept her distance. Every once in a while she would let him in just a fraction then pull away but that hadn’t happened after she brought Aika back. Leah checked in at least once a day to see how he and Aika were doing and help Sy with obedience drills. As it turned out, she’d done the basic sit and down commands when feeding her and they were now working on stay and heel. Those half hours together were the best part of his day. And hers.

“You boys gonna sit around and watch the show?” Sy called.

“We actually gotta get cleaned up,” Benjie said, ever the voice of reason, “but as soon as we are done we will be back to see what Leah’s decided to mark you with for the foreseeable future.”

Just like that, the men were gone, leaving Leah and Sy alone as they arrived in his office. She took a seat at the metal table while Sy moved around the desk to pull the old card deck from the drawer. He sat opposite Leah, shuffling them three times before dealing their cards.

“How many hands you wanna play?”

“If we play a fixed number of hands then it’s all luck. Let’s play with twenty each,” Leah answered. “Gotta give you a shot of winning at least once.”

Sy shook his head with a smirk then gestured for her to pick up her cards while he pulled a tin of busted chips from a nearby shelf. It wasn’t a full set and the colors were a little mismatched like some of them had been bleached from the sun but it would do just fine since the pot wasn’t the actual reward.

Leah’s first hand was nothing special. She had two pairs but with the cards on the table, Sy could easily have a straight or a flush. She had decided to use the hand to test his tells and followed every time he raised.

Like she expected, Sy revealed his cards to show he had a straight. “You keep bettin’ like that and I won’t even have to try to beat you. Do you even know what hands are better?”

Leah ignored his comment, collecting the cards for her turn to deal. With practiced ease, she shuffled the cards and quickly dealt out the next hand. This time, they didn’t make it to showing their hands, Sy folded after the river was flipped. Despite the cards on the table showing a perfect setup for a straight flush, Leah actually only had a Jack high card. She knew from the start she would win the hand but being patient had allowed her to get Sy to waste a few more chips.

The game progressed slowly with Leah taking a small lead after several hands but she kept waiting for the right moment to make a more aggressive move.

It was Sy’s turn to deal and Leah had a pair of threes. The first card of the flop was a queen followed by a six then a ten. If Sy had any of those cards in his hand, he’d have a higher pair than Leah. Two of the revealed cards were clubs so she decided to keep going and choose whether or not to fold after the next card was revealed. With any luck, she’d get a flush and she’d be able to win the hand.

Sy, however, seemed to sense her hesitation because he raised rather than simply following her moderate bet. Not wanting to turn back just yet, she added the necessary chips.

When Sy turned the next card, Leah fought to keep her composure.

A three. Sy had turned another three. With the cards on the table, there were limited possibilities as to Sy’s current hand. There was a chance he had two pairs which her hand would beat, or he could also have three of a kind which would be higher than her own.

“You okay there, Coleman?” Leah looked up at Sy leaning forward on the table. “Didn’t get that club card you were hopin’ for?”

Shit. He was good, but she was better.

“Maybe it’s you who didn’t get it. You got a high queen then?”

Sy brushed the pad of his thumb back and forth against the corner of his cards. For most of the game Sy’s body had been relaxed, leaning back against his chair. Now he was behaving with exceeding confidence, trying to look imposing. Either he was baiting her because he really did have a decent hand or he was bluffing and hoping she would fold before he did.

There was still a possibility that she would get a full-house from the river card which would put her in a good position to win.

“I’m not letting you play your little mind games on me. If you want to find out whether or not your theory is right, it’ll cost you.”

She picked up more chips that her hand was worth and tossed them into the pot.

Sy followed suit without blinking.

Setting down his two cards, Sy took his sweet time picking up the deck, burning the top card and slowly turning the next one over into its spot on the desk. The entire time, he never let his eyes drift away from Leah’s.

She broke the staring contest first, her gaze flickering down to the last card on the left.

This was her chance to make him go all in. She had to make him think with absolute certainty that she had no hand and that all she needed was for him to fold.

She counted out her chips, making a show of double checking that she had a few left over if Sy went all in. Then, she took only about half of her available chips and pushed them into the center.

Sy smirked, looking down at the card on the table for the first time. He didn’t bother double checking his hand, as soon as he saw the card, he pushed all his chips forward.

“If you wanna find out, it’ll cost ya.”

There it was. Sy had reacted exactly like she had hoped. As soon as she moved the necessary chips forward, Sy’s confident facade faltered. He clenched his jaw, his tongue darting out to like his lips.

“I hope you’ve got a nice fresh razor. You’re going to need it.” Leah flipped her cards revealing the pair of threes in her hand. “I don’t need to see your cards to know that you’re beat. The only thing that’s better four of a kind is a straight flush or a royal flush and you don’t have the cards for that to even be possible.”

Sy dropped his hand on the table, revealing his pair of queens. Had it not been for the fourth three on the river, she’d have lost. As it was, he had a full-house. It was a good hand—especially with queens over threes—but it wasn’t good enough.

“What do I need to do to get outta this?” Sy asked in a pointed tone.

Leah sat back, chewing on her lip. Was he that disgusted at the idea of having her draw on him? Or did he just want to avoid the humiliation of having to shave his chest? This hadn’t even been her idea, so why was she fighting so hard to make it happen? Because, unlike with BJ, Leah wanted an excuse to get closer to Sy.

“You said I needed to find a way to make nice and bond with the guys. Well, I’m bonding.”

The Captain let out a slow sigh, looking up at the ceiling for a few long seconds.

“Fine,” he eventually conceded, “but I ain’t lyin’ on no hard ass table. Find some other way to make this work.

Leah considered her options for a moment looking around the office.

“I might be able to get a good angle if I just sat in front of you but the markers wouldn’t work so well. It would have to be a bed or…”

Sy pulled his gaze away from the ceiling to find Leah sporting a full on blush. Oh, he definitely needed to know what was on her mind. “Or what?”

She’d momentarily lost track of where she was and who she was talking to. Or maybe her subconscious knew exactly where she was and who she was talking to.

“I could always sit on your lap while you leaned back in a chair.”

“Yeah… that ain’t happenin’.” No matter how appealing that idea was. Sy rubbed his hand over his head then down his beard. “Fine. Come to my room in ten mikes.”

Chapter 11

#captain syverson #captain syverson fic #captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson fanfiction #cpt syverson #cpt syverson fic #cpt syverson fanfiction #henry cavill

[iamfandomcrazy]

so here's a little sneak peek at the multi-chaptered fic I'm kind of working. It's an AU where Tyler is 21 and has a six year old son and gets hired by Wednesday to clean/do gardening. Also, there will be Xavier bashing for your viewing pleasure

“I’ll need to put your number out there,” Enid warned her. “So they can contact you.”  “If I start to get endless phone calls, I will not be nice about it.”  “Fine. But you can’t kill any of them. Or torture them. Or make them mysteriously disappear.”  “You’re foolish if you think your words have any effect on me or the outcome.”  Enid groaned. “You’re awful.”  “Thank you, Enid.”  “Anyway. You need some requirements. Like...do you want it to be a girl?”  “I don’t care,” Wednesday said.  “Okay, either is fine. How about this: no criminal record, honest, hardworking, punctual-”  “What kind of person are you trying to attract to my house?” Wednesday demanded.  “Wednesday, chill. You don’t want someone bad coming there, do you?”  “I could handle them.”  With her barrage of weaponry, of course. 

#wednesday addams #wyler #enid sinclair #wednesday netflix #wyler fanfiction

[hogwartseighthyear]

crush

“your girl” series: part 1 | (part 2) | part 3

(can be read as a standalone)

pairing: neville longbottom x fem!reader word count: 3.1k tags: rated G, house-neutral reader, outsider POV, fluff, pre-relationship, Y/N used summary: three times neville’s friends knew he had a crush on you. note: my first request yay! this idea stuck in my head and i couldn’t do anything else until i finished it. even though each of these scenes are referenced directly in the first part, this can probably still be read as a standalone. enjoy and thanks for reading!   request: @typicallydepressedandanxious​ “I know you’re currently editing a Neville fic, but I was wondering if you could do a kind of part two to ‘your girl’ More so just each time someone in the group thought Neville had a crush on the reader? That part was just so cute and fluffy and I wanna read more of it.” [x]   (crossposted here to AO3)

September 1, 1991:

Hermione stepped out of yet another compartment and shut the door behind her, muffling the giggles that followed her out into the corridor: a group of girls—sixth years at least—who’d been just as rude as they were unhelpful. Honestly, she thought to herself, exasperated, what’s so funny about a missing toad?

Neville still looked to be on the verge of tears, just as he had for the past half hour. He’d been far too frazzled to be of any real use during their search for Trevor, and it didn’t help that he seemed to be rather shy, but Hermione didn’t mind doing the most of the legwork. It was better that Neville followed her lead, anyway.

“Oh, we’re never going to find him, are we?” Neville despaired.

“We’ve still got one more car to look through,” Hermione said. She was nothing if not determined. “Come on, he must be here somewhere, I’m sure of it.”

The two of them moved further along down the Hogwarts Express, entering the final passenger car on the train. Hermione turned to the first compartment, Neville lingering over her shoulder, and abruptly slid open the door, startling the four students inside.

“Have any of you seen a toad? Neville’s lost his,” Hermione asked for what felt like the hundredth time that afternoon.

The two boys who’d been chatting on the left side exchanged baffled looks with one another. On the right side, a slightly older girl slumped against the window was blinking in confusion, only half-awake from the nap she’d been taking.

And next to her was you, an open book resting in your lap.

“Is that A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch?” Hermione asked with great interest, not bothering to wait for a response on Trevor’s whereabouts. “I’ve only read about halfway through it, unfortunately, but I suspect I’ll be able to finish before the first lesson. It sounds like such fascinating magic. What are your thoughts on the second chapter? Are you also a first year? My name’s Hermione Granger, by the way.”

You floundered for a moment at the sudden barrage of information, staring at Hermione with wide eyes. “Yes, I-I’m a first year. Y/N L/N,” you eventually stammered. “And, um, I’m afraid I haven’t gotten that far yet. I’ve just been— skimming, I suppose.”

“Oh.” Hermione frowned, disappointed. “Well, there’s still about an hour left until we reach Hogwarts. You have enough time to get through the preface, I’m sure. In the meantime, have you seen a toad around here? Any of you?” Hermione addressed the whole compartment.

You glanced at the other three students. The girl next to you had already fallen back asleep, and the two boys only shrugged, clearly disinterested. “I don’t think we have, sorry,” you said. “But… I could help you two look, if you’d like?”

“Hm. I guess another pair of eyes couldn’t hurt. As long as you want to, that is,” Hermione said.

“It’s fine, I’d like to help,” you said, smiling. You left your book on the bench as you followed her and Neville out into the corridor. Once the door was shut behind you, you lowered your voice a bit, adding, “I’d much rather hang out here with the both of you, anyway. No one in my compartment seemed very keen on talking to a first year.”

“You can sit with us after we’ve finished looking,” Hermione offered. “We were riding with two other first years, but they left a while ago to find their friends, so there should still be room.”

“Thank you, I’d really like that,” you said, smiling, then turned to address Neville. “Your name’s Neville, right? It’s your toad that’s missing?” you asked.

That’s when Hermione noticed just how violently red Neville’s face had turned. He no longer looked ready to cry, but he seemed almost… frightened? Or nervous, rather? She couldn’t quite pin his odd expression.

Neville nodded and swallowed harshly. “R-Right,” he stuttered. “Neville Longbottom. And Trevor. That’s— that’s my toad’s name. Trevor.”

“Nice to meet you, Neville. What does Trevor look like? Just in case we stumble across him.”

“Erm, he’s a smooth-sided toad. You know, about— this big,” Neville held his hands up, mimicking something roughly the side of a sandwich, “and he’s brown. His sides are darker than his back.”

“Cute,” you said, amused, which seemed to fluster Neville further. If possible, his face burned even brighter, and he was quite suddenly unable to meet your eyes, instead looking down at his shoes as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

And, oh, Hermione understood now.

Just then, a commotion back in the previous train car caught her attention. A muffled yell and a hard thump, followed by three boys—a pointy blonde and his two much larger companions—tumbling out of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley’s compartment.

“What sort of trouble could they possibly be up to?” Hermione huffed, hands on her hips as she watched the boys run away. She turned back to you and Neville. “I better go see what’s going on. You two keep looking for Trevor,” she ordered.

And with that, Hermione stomped off. She didn’t feel bad about temporarily leaving the two of you to your own devices. You seemed competent enough to lead the search for Neville’s missing toad, and telling by the way Neville was staring dazedly at your profile, he probably wouldn’t even notice her absence.

    February 14, 1994:

Seamus’s chess pieces didn’t trust Neville in the slightest. He thought it was quite funny, despite his friend’s frustration. Sure, they were a bit prickly with every new person they encountered, but Seamus had been playing chess with Neville since they were first years and they still yelled at him about his poor directions.

“Okay, um, left bishop, move one space diagonally to the right,” Neville said.

“Are you mad?” the little bishop turned to shout at Neville. “His knight will cut my head clean off! Look, you still have space to move your pawns, sacrifice one of them! They’re far less important than me!”

Neville groaned and hung his head between his knees while Seamus cackled. It was evening, not long after dinner, and there were a fair few other Gryffindors milling about the common room. Neville and Seamus, who were fortunate enough to have snagged a spot near the fire, were interrupted by the Fat Lady’s portrait swinging open, Dean stepping in through the opening.

“Ah, lover boy!” Seamus called, waving Dean over to join them. He plopped down next to Seamus on the couch, a bright smile lingering on his face as he surveyed the chessboard in front of them.

“Having a rough time, Neville?” Dean asked, nodding at the pile of white pieces Seamus had already collected off him. “Don’t worry, Seamus’s board is hard to play with. Not very friendly.”

“Hey!” the chess pieces cried out in an offended chorus. They went ignored.

“Never mind that,” Seamus said, knocking his elbow excitedly against Dean. “You gave it to her, right?”

“Yeah, in the library just now.”

“And?” Seamus ask impatiently.

Dean shrugged, ducking his head, though the smile remained on his face. “She liked it. I charmed it to float over to her table and she got all embarrassed. But like, in a good way. It was cute.”

“Wait, what are you two talking about?” Neville asked.

“Dean’s in loooove,” Seamus sing-songed. Dean whacked him in the arm, cutting him off.

“Shut up, no I’m not!” he laughed.

Neville grinned at his roommates, entertained. “Oh really? With who, then?”

“Y/N,” Seamus supplied immediately, wiggling his eyebrows. He’d spent the last two weeks listening to Dean fret over his newfound crush and the various romantic gestures he’d been concocting for Valentine’s Day—Seamus even pitching in his own ideas whenever Dean drew a blank. Needless to say, he was eager to tease his best friend now that he’d finally made a move, letting the cat out of the bag.

On the other side of the low table, sat in the armchair he and Seamus had pulled up to play chess, all amusement had dropped from Neville’s face. He gaped at Dean and Seamus.

“Y/N L/N?” Neville asked.

“Yeah, ‘course. She’s your friend; what other Y/N would we be talking about?” Seamus said.

“I-I don’t know, I just… I didn’t…” Neville trailed off. His troubled expression went unnoticed by the other two Gryffindors.

“I picked up a chocolate frog for her last weekend in Hogsmeade. And a card,” Dean said happily. “It was a bit cheesy, but it had a dragon on it. You said she’s really interested in dragons, right, Neville?”

“…Right.” Neville’s voice was flat.

“So what now? You gonna ask her out anytime soon?” Seamus asked.

Dean shrugged again, scratching the back of his neck. “Maybe. I’m working up to it. I think I might—”

Neville cut him off.

“What kind of dragon was it?”

“…What?”

“What kind of dragon was it? On the card,” he insisted.

“Uh. I don’t know. It was red—?”

“Her favorite is the Welsh Green.”

Seamus shared a confused look with Dean, who seemed equally as lost. Neville’s face was hard in a way neither of them had seen before, his posture tense as he gripped the armrests of his chair tight enough to blanch his knuckles. Even the chess pieces had paused to watch the exchange.

“Well, I mean… red is a Valentine’s Day color,” Seamus reasoned hesitantly.

Dean nodded his assent. “Yeah, mate, every card there was red and pink and full of glitter. I really don’t think it matters—”

“It does matter, because her favorite is a Welsh Green! If you knew her at all you would’ve gotten her one with a bloody Welsh Green!” Neville exclaimed, standing suddenly from his chair. He jostled the table in the process and the chess pieces cried out as they rattled around on the board.

Dean and Seamus weren’t the only ones who stared as Neville quickly stalked away, crossing the common room and disappearing up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory. His outburst had caught the attention of the other nearby Gryffindors, who all immediately started whispering to one another and casting curious glances towards the two boys left behind on the couch. Their mouths hung open in shock.

“Merlin! What the hell was his problem?” Dean sputtered after a lengthy pause, more baffled than he was angry. “All that because of a stupid card?”

Seamus slowly shook his head. “I don’t think that was about the card, Dean,” he said, absently watching the abandoned chess pieces as they grumbled and shuffled around the board, reordering themselves.

He’d never given your friendship with Neville much thought before, in all honesty. You and Neville hung around each other a lot, sure. But none of it had stuck out to Seamus. Maybe because he didn’t know you very well. Maybe because he didn’t know Neville as well as he thought, either. Shy, unremarkable, scatterbrained Neville.

But now, thinking about it—

Now things made a lot more sense.

    December 25, 1994:

Ginny liked Neville.

Not romantically, of course. Unfortunately, that place in her heart was quite firmly taken by the boy who was currently sulking alongside her idiot brother at an empty dining table after they’d both been ditched by the Patil twins.

But Neville was a good friend. He was sweet, and kind, and had been nothing but a gentleman to her for the whole duration of the Yule Ball, despite his frequent awkwardness and the many times he had accidentally stepped on her toes while attempting to dance. He was trying his best to be a good date, and Ginny appreciated that.

She just wished, perhaps a bit selfishly, that she’d been asked to the ball by a boy who actually wanted to go with her, rather than a boy who was so clearly in love with another girl and torn up over the fact that she’d arrived on someone else’s arm.

“Why didn’t you ask Y/N to the ball?”

Ginny’s question startled Neville, even though it really shouldn’t have. She’d made a very conscious effort to keep her voice neutral—curious rather than confrontational. Nevertheless, Neville fumbled his cup of punch, a bit a sloshing over onto his hand.

“What? What do you mean?” he asked. His voice had risen an octave.

Ginny nodded towards the dancefloor. There, you and Pyotr Belinsky from Durmstrang had your hands clasped together, wearing wide smiles as you jumped and danced around in time to the Weird Sisters. They were playing something wild and fast-paced. You were one person in a sea of moving bodies, and yet you’d drawn Neville’s eyes like a beacon all night long.

“She’s your friend,” Ginny said simply.

Neville looked away, his expression pained.

“You’re my friend too,” he mumbled, plucking a napkin from a nearby table to wipe his hand. The two of them had stepped off to the side of the Great Hall, taking a short break from the party to finish their drinks.

Ginny gave him look. “You know what I mean, Longbottom.”

He didn’t answer. His mouth was set in a tight line.

“C’mon,” Ginny urged, though she kept her tone gentle, “you’re not very subtle. You only asked me to the ball after moping around the castle for three days when you found out Y/N was going with that Belinsky fellow, and you looked quite unhappy to be doing so.”

Neville’s cheeks flushed, eyes growing wide with alarm. “Ginny, that’s not— I’m sorry if I came across that w—”

She waved him off. “Calm down, I’m not offended or anything. Genuinely. I just don’t understand why you’re not here with Y/N instead.”

He slumped a bit then, heaving a big sigh as he seemed to finally give up on the pretense. Sympathetic as she was, Ginny was glad for it. Neville was a terrible liar. He gave himself away before even opening his mouth.

“Erm— I suppose I was… scared. I-I’m not the most brave, you know,” he said, his voice meek and barely audible over the music.

Ginny frowned. “She would’ve said yes if you’d asked, surely.” Anyone could see how close you and Neville were.

“Yeah, because we’re friends. You said it yourself,” Neville huffed. Meanwhile, a round of applause rose up as the Weird Sisters finished their current song. Harsh guitar riffs and heavy drums faded out into something much softer, slower.

“And you don’t want to be her friend,” Ginny concluded.

“Of course I want to be her friend. She’s the best one I’ve ever had,” Neville said, earnest.

“You don’t want to only be her friend, then.”

“…No.” He paused, stared down into his punch. “She would never like me like that, though. Why would she look twice at me when she has guys like Belinsky asking her to the ball? It’s impossible. I’m not— I’m not good enough.”

“Neville,” Ginny began. He shook his head.

“It’s fine,” he rushed to say, once again lying rather poorly. “We should really talk about something else, anyway. It’s not fair to you if I just spend the whole night whingeing about my own stupid prob—”

“Nev!”

Neville’s head snapped up at the sound of your voice. You were just ahead, alone, one hand hiking your skirt up off the ground as you weaved through the dining tables towards him and Ginny, trying not to totter on your heels.

“Hey!” you greeted when you reached them, a big smile on your face. Some of your hair had fallen from its style, and you quickly tried to smooth it back into place. “Great party, isn’t it? How’re you two doing? Having a good time?”

“Of course. I’ve never seen the Great Hall look so gorgeous,” Ginny jumped to say, sensing that Neville still needed a moment to gather himself—his confession and your arrival had clearly left him a bit overwhelmed.

“Right? It’s amazing,” you said, looking up at the frosted walls of the Great Hall and the greenery hung across the ceiling. “Pyotr said that Durmstrang’s castle is nowhere near as beautiful as Hogwarts. Though they do have us beat when it comes to the scenery, apparently, being up in the mountains and all.”

Neville cleared his throat. He was still quite tense, but overall, mostly composed. “Where is he, by the way? Belinsky, I mean,” he asked, glancing over your shoulder.

“Oh, he just went off to the loo. And anyway, I told him you owed me dance,” you said with a sly grin. Then, glancing over at Ginny, “If that’s alright with both of you, of course.”

Ginny practically wrenched Neville’s drink out of his hand and shoved him into your arms—not actually, but close enough, what with her sudden enthusiasm.

“More than!” Ginny said brightly, urging her date forward. “Go on, Neville. I can entertain myself for a song or three.”

He looked back over his shoulder as you led him toward the crowd of slow dancing students, mouthing “Three?” at Ginny with a very, very red face. She only gave him a thumbs-up in response, watching as you and Neville found your spot on the dancefloor. He looked rather flustered when you stood close and placed his hand on your waist, but soon enough you seemed to relax into one another—chatting, smiling, moving gently with the music.

Ginny could see it plain as day: you and Neville just fit together, like the most natural thing in the world. There was no doubt in her mind that the two of you were inevitable. It warmed her heart just as much as it struck a pang of envy within her.

She took a sip of Neville’s punch, risking a glance towards Harry and her brother. They were still sat alone at the same table, heads bowed together as Ron prattled on about something or another. But Harry was only listening with half an ear, Ginny could tell, because his bitter gaze was firmly planted on Cho Chang, currently being twirled around the dancefloor by Cedric Diggory.

Ginny sighed and tried not to let it sting. Most boys were idiots, she’d decided. Especially when they were teenagers. She often wondered if and when they would ever be worth her time.

But if you’d been lucky enough to find one as good as Neville, Ginny couldn’t help but hope that maybe, eventually, she would too.

#neville longbottom x reader #neville longbottom x you #neville x reader #neville x you #neville longbottom #neville longbottom fic #my writing #request

[littlelasagne]

Hello beautiful human!! BMO is my favorite fic ever! Everything about the story is just perfect. Could you please share a little snippet of the next chapter? <3

Hi friend!

I'm so happy you've enjoyed the fic so far :) I'll be honest, I've been so busy at my new job and moving and everything, that I've barely had time this past month to work on BMO. The next chapter is nearly ready to go though, it's a heavy one about family so I keep umming and ahhing over it.

Thanks so much for the ask and continued interest! I feel a bit out of the loop with the fandom these days so it's nice to know you're there! Here's a chunk from the beginning of chap 31.

Squeezing a healthy dollop of suncream onto her hand, Hange began to smother it over her face.

“I wish you were here,” she said. “Everyone’s really sad, but we’re all happy to be together at the same time. It’s bittersweet in a way that Nani brought us all together in her death. Eurgh, it’s so hot though, I’m sweating all the time. I stink. You’d hate me right now. Oh yeah, I’d been in the house ten minutes and two aunties asked about my marriage prospects. I say aunties, I don’t even know who they are. Mum’s second-cousin, twice removed, three times married, carried over. Then, oh god, Mum explained to me that she told them about Zeke ages ago but she didn’t bother letting them know we split up so... that was fun explaining why we weren’t married yet. I didn’t really explain. I said I was putting my career first. Which is not exactly a lie either. I hate these stupid family games.”

Levi always considered it a blessing to not have nosy family poking their way into his life. If he had to pick between Erwin’s overprotective mother or Hange’s overcritical one, he would choose neither. But actually, as he listened to the hearty bustle beyond the door, he was struck by an odd longing. The thought of cousins to gossip with and meddling aunties to avoid seemed fun. At least they cared, right? He wondered if Uncle Kenny wanted to know his state of affairs. Judging by the constant barrage of emails from Cave, he did.

“Don’t forget your neck,” Levi said. Hange squeezed out more suncream, lifted her chin and rubbed the thick cream all over her willowy neck.

“It’s awkward, I haven’t really mentioned you yet because, y’know... it’s like I said, they’ll start asking all these questions and I’m not bothered about answering any of them yet. You understand, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Maybe next time I’m here it’ll be different… Anyway, Levi... I really miss you.”

She’d been gone for just over forty-eight hours. Forty-eight hours since she had grieved all over him. Forty-eight hours since she was here in his bed, her leg wrapped around his and her lips all over his neck. He couldn’t wait to do that again. He imagined she was there with him now. Levi rolled over to face the window and see the night sky.

“It’s only been two days,” he said. Nineteen days to go.

“So? I’m allowed to miss you even if it’s only been ten seconds!” she pouted. “But thank you. For making me come here. As annoying as everyone is, we’re all connected to Nani and everyone’s set aside their feelings. We’re family after all.”

Family.

“That’s great, Hange.”

“I’ll pay you back as soon as I can, I promise.”

“It’s ok, Hange.”

She puckered her lips and brought them to phone camera. Levi’s screen turned black for a moment. She giggled. “Wish I could kiss you in real life.”

He wished it too. “Go. Don’t do anything stupid. Don’t cry too much.”

“Bye, Levi, sleep well. I’ll text you as soon as I can. I miss you.”

I love you, I love you, I love you.

“Bye, Four Eyes.” He hung up and flopped over in his bed, his eyes on the stars, feeling lonesome, languid, and just a little lacklustre.

#I'm not able to work on this daily anymore #which saddens me immensly #and i just chip away at it in tiny bits #SIGH #I really hate leaving big gaps in updates but I'm at max capacity so doing what I can #and also working on paint and progress chap 2 as well #you gotta go with what your heart wants to write sometimes #bmo #WIP #levihan #levihan fanfiction

[ghostenluvs]

secrets in stone:

chapter 2: confrontation

previous | next

tw: arguing, non-gory violence, discussions of harm/assassination of children [which will make a lot more sense if you read chapter one], many a use of italics and bold because i like them.

[please be kind about this chapter! it's not perfectly in character ik but i wanna get to the rest of the fic as soon as i can.]

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Sun wukong is making dinner.

Now he’s no culinary expert, but he’s pretty sure he’s mastered this delicacy.

It’s not on fire this time!

Nevertheless, drugstore ramen is always fiddly. Leave it in for too long and it straight up melts, heat it too much and it straight up melts, accidentally break the lid on the hot sauce once and it straight up melts (you), it’s been frustrating.

But it isn’t on fire this time! So that’s good.

He inputs three minutes to the oven timer and presses start. He turns around and there’s the kid, just chilling, coloring in some paper and also probably the table. They’re very focused, not even looking up when he sits down to look at their drawing.

“What’cha doin’ bud?” 

The kid holds up their paper, showcasing a masterful (for a toddler) crayon rendition of them and himself holding hands on top of a tree. It’s downright adorable. He might cry. Or explode. Or both. Yeah, both is good.

He opens his mouth to deliver the highest of praise to this display of artistic prowess when-

BOOM!

An explosion  rings out, followed by the sound of aggressive footsteps on stone and a shout that fully and totally embodies the word ‘pissed.’ 

“WUKONG!”

Oh no.

The kid yelps, trying to cover their ears and latching onto his chest. He stands up, holding them close and speeding into the kid’s room. He sets them down in the corner behind their bed quickly. He needs to make sure they stay there. He knows that voice. 

He knows that voice. 

Macaque.

He hasn’t heard him in a while but he could distinguish his old friend’s (that’s definitely a stretch right now) voice anywhere.

“What’s happening?!” the kid grasps his sleeve with a surprising grip.

“Okay kid it’s gonna be fine, everything is fine. But I need you to stay here for a minute okay? You can’t move ‘till I come and get you. It’s very impo-”

“WUKONG! COME OUT HERE! I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!” the angry shout cuts him off.

“Ok kid i just need to deal with this real quick just stayrightthere-'' he tosses a blanket over them and speeds back out of the room, and the house. Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, he comes face to very understandably pissed off face with the warrior. 

Macaque is standing in the middle of the cave, holding his shadow staff, ready for a fight.

–

He dodges a large rock as it makes contact with the ground beneath him, he jumps to the left, Three more following the first. He can’t fight in here. This is bad. The kid could get hurt in way too many ways if this goes on.

He needs to move this someplace else.

He dashes for the passage leading out of the cave. Only to find himself falling headfirst through darkness and landing on his stairs. Shadow portals, yayy.

“So you’re just going to run away again?! TYPICAL. Always running away from the problems YOU CAUSED.” he shouts, holding his staff high and bringing it down at the stairs. He rolls out of the way, the stairs now splintered from the impact. He winces.

Yeesh.

The staff is swung at him again and he puts his arms up to block it. The swings keep coming, the force of the barrage sending gusts of wind through his fur. Macaque is seething, which he notes, is fair. Given well, everything.

“This is just how you do things, huh? You run yourself into trouble, and then you throw everyone else into the fire for you!”

“That’s not-” he sidesteps a vertical strike. He liked that flower bed.

“Oh don’t you DARE say it isn’t, oh Great Sage! It wasn’t even just me! The brotherhood, DBK, and that CHILD that heaven wanted gone! A CHILD, WUKONG!”

He startles at that, macaque taking advantage to send a kick to his ribs, launching him back into the cave wall.

“Wha- how did you-?” the air having been knocked from his lungs, leaving him momentarily stunned.

Macaque let out a bitter chuckle, finding some amusement in his floundering.

“You seriously thought that your continual kissing up to heaven would go unnoticed? No, people talk. You can only get away with so much before your oh so precious reputation gets painted with some of that blood on your hands.” he practically growled the last words.

A spike of cold ran down his spine. He hadn’t left the mountain long enough to talk to anyone. Is that how people viewed him now?

“I didn’t-”

“Gege!” he’s cut off again, this time by the kid. Who had made their way partially down the stairs and looked absolutely mortified.

He’s in front of them in less than a second, checking for injuries of any kind with his gold vision and trying to block Macaque’s view of them as much as possible. 

This is bad. This is really, really bad.

A beat. 

“What… is that?” the warrior sounded sort of stunned.

He holds the kid closer to himself, slowly turning his head to face Macaque.

“...”

“A regular normal monkey with nothing notable about them?” His acting needs work, sue him.

Now it was macaque’s turn to be sent floundering.

“What? You- how did you even- WHERE DID YOU GET A BABY?!”

“I… found it.” 

The shock of seeing the warrior sent his cover story abilities off kilter, to put it lightly.

The kid wriggles his head out of the king’s arms to stare at the warrior.

“Who’s that? Why’s he mad at you?” they ask, wriggling their arm out as well to point at Macaque.

“Uh.”

Yeah, he’s got nothing.

Meanwhile, Macaque has been silently looking back and forth between the two, and connecting some very important dots.

“Wukong.”

“Uh… what?” He's failing to keep a straight face and he knows it.

“Wukong.” oh no, that’s the ages old ‘you’ve done something supremely idiotic and i’m at my wits’ end with you’ voice. He did not miss it.

“What?”

Macaque puts his hands together in front of his face, mouth in a flat line.

“Is that the child? I swear if that is the child you were supposed to-”

“MAKE SURE GETS TO BED BY 7:30? Absolutely. Now look at the time it is 7:31 kid you should be in bed why are you out here?” He sets them back in front of him.

“Oh! The dinner noodles are on fire again!” they state with way too much whimsy, pointing at the house.

“Ah crud not again-” he grabs the kid and speeds back into the kitchen, momentarily distracted from the warrior’s presence in his quest to shut off the heat and fan out the fire hazard/actual plume of flames.

The fire goes out and he lets out a ‘phew’ that ‘burned down house’ isn’t getting added to his list of things he did today, among ‘witnessed true art’ and ‘ got kicked into a wall by his old friend/enemy??? He did NOT expect to see this millenia’.

He is then reminded of said frenemy. Darn.

“First of all, the sun is directly above us right now, I don't know what clock you’re running on. Second, wow, this place is a mess, how do you live like this?” he asks from the doorway, always the pinnacle of sarcasm. He gestures to the pile of paper towel cardboard thingies in the corner the kid’s been collecting to ‘build a castle with’.

He glares, “oh and you’re so much more organized? I’d like to see you deal with this situation.”

“Taking into account the three separate piles of dishes, markers and dolls right next to, but not in the box labeled ‘dolls’, I'd say I am more organized than you.”

“Okay, kid, you are going to wait in your room for dinner. Thank you for the fire alarm, I have to deal with this.” he sets them down and points to their room, trying to sound as stern as he can without sounding mad.

“But-”

“Sorry kid, no buts. Room. now.”

“Aww.” they relent and traipse back into their room. An audible ‘pomf’ sounds as they face plant into bed.

He turns back to macaque, making a shooing motion. “Outside.”

A shadow portal opens below them, macaque landing silently while he is dropped from the cave ceiling onto his face. Well, if he didn’t have his cloud to faceplant on, that is.

Macaque regards him with a flat, yet still very angry expression.

“Well this certainly throws a wrench in my murdering you.”

He opens his mouth to retort, but is cut off.

“I’m still gonna do it, but there is a wrench nonetheless.”

He hops off his cloud, scratching his neck awkwardly.

“Yeaahhh…. Kind of expected that. – he sighs – listen, I can't be fighting with the kid here.”

“Why is the kid here? Seriously, it was dumb to do what you did but it’s even stupider to keep them!”

“Yeah, what would you want me to do there?! I thought you were mad when you thought I actually did it. You’d rather I just drop him somewhere?!”

“Maybe! This is literally the second most conspicuous thing you could’ve done with them, barring just taking a pop in to tour the jade palace with the kid in full monkey form! There is no way he doesn’t get caught.”

“Well I disagree! You can’t drop a kid like him out on his own somewhere, they’d just die. – he lowers his voice, – I am not going through the trouble of not killing them just to abandon them somewhere.”

“Well what am i s’posed to do huh? I’m not going to back down just because you’ve attained fatherhood or something while I was gone!”

“Hey! Not fatherhood, you heard the kid before, and I'm not backing down either! But if we fight right now that kid is either going to get horribly traumatized, or get even worse trauma and get basically orphaned, if you could even manage to beat me. And I am not too keen on scarring that kid for life!”

“Well then we’ve got a problem here.”

“Pff, like we didn’t before.”

There is a moment of stubborn silence, the both of them holding a tense stare-off.

How in the world does he end this situation without anyone getting killed… he can’t feasibly deter macaque from this fight forever. 

An incredibly far fetched idea dawns on him.

Maybe he doesn’t have to.

He breaks eye contact, looking to the side. “Can we do this like… tomorrow?”

“Wha- TOMORROW?! Seriously? You’re- no. you’re not getting out of this that easily.”

Far-fetched indeed.

“It was worth a try!” he states, resisting the urge to do finger guns because if he did that macaque would actually just kill him.

Macaque’s face is scrunched up in a combination of intense annoyance, befuddlement, and sheer incredulity.

“I swear to every deity… why are you LIKE this?! Did you seriously think that would work?”

“Well I dunno! - he huffs in exasperation - i’m gonna be honest here, i kinda just need you to leave right now. And i KNOW ‘oh wukong just wants to get out of this super annoying situation yadda yadda’ is the only thing you’re hearing here but i cannot be engaging in a probably-definitely super destructive battle for the ages with a whole TODDLER up there in my house!”

“Do you really-” macaque interjects.

“no. no! We are LITERALLY immortal! WE HAVE ACTUAL AGES TO DO THIS! YOU CAN'T WAIT TO MURDER ME FOR FIVE MINUTES?”

“Well, they’ll still be a toddler in five minutes!” he sarcasms sarcastically.

“Then wait a while longer! I don’t care, I am so tired! You think keeping this kid from setting the mountain ablaze is easy?! He’s practically a human rocket launcher! You wanna kill me really bad, I know. I guarantee you there’s about ninety people who took a number first, get in line!”

Macaque scoffs, “woowww, so you’re tired! You don’t wanna deal with me right now! Ohoho, HOW SURPRISING. Am I too much for you, Great Sage? Are my grievances too much to handle? Get a grip!”

“You know that is not what I MEANT. LOOK, YOU CAN MURDER ME ALL YOU WANT LATER. I COULDN’T CARE LESS IF YOU SHOWED UP TO FIGHT TO THE DEATH OR WHATEVER HORRIBLE VENGEANCE PLAN YOU HAVE FOR ME IF I DIDN’T HAVE THE KID TO DEAL WITH! BUT I DO, SO I AM NOT GOING TO LET YOU DROP HIM DIRECTLY INTO THE CROSSFIRE HERE!”

He takes a breath, lowering his voice.

“I am not going to let this kid be put in danger. So if you try to do that by fighting me, I will make sure you regret it dearly.”

Macaque is silent for a while. In that time the air feels static and his muscles are tense, well prepared to make good on his threat.

The warrior takes a deep breath in and looks away, seeming to bore a hole into the ground with the heat of his glare. The king can’t tell whether he’s actually mulling it over or deciding the most painful thing to punch first.

—

Macaque is conflicted.

He thought he wouldn’t be made so this easily, but here he is.

On one hand, Wukong is standing right in front of him. It would be so easy to just throw him through the mountain walls and forget about that kid. He really, really, wants to just punch wukong directly in the chest and send him flying. Finally get his payback. His arm practically itches to be swung.

On the other hand however, there is a child. A toddler, a stone monkey that he’d thought was dead. Murdered viciously under the command of heaven. There is a kid who has no idea why he’s here. No context or knowledge or life experience, no clue of everything the great sage, equal to heaven had done, had put him through.

And the great sage himself was trying to get him to leave, fight another day. Under the guise of protecting this kid. He wants to call it a bluff and ignore the way the king’s voice had shifted into the tone he’d always reserved only for the things he was most serious about. The things declared in that tone had always been followed through to the end. Always, but once.

So he’s conflicted.

If he waited, he would have more time to prepare, more time to amass the power he needed. He’d come here the first chance he got since his return to the mortal realm. His powers were just at the level where he knew he could battle the king. Maybe it would be smarter to gather more resources.

But to what end? How long would he be expected to wait to get his revenge? He’ll have to ask. This is going to be a negotiation, he’s not just going to take it with nothing in return.

—

“How long?”

“What?”

“How long would you expect me to put off my plans so this kid doesn’t get orphaned or traumatized and all that? I would expect a time frame.”

“You’re actually taking it?” the king asked, incredulous.

“I’m thinking about taking it. I need to know what the deal is before I agree not to murder you here and now. How long?” He punctuates the question with a glare.

“Uh. just, you know… until they won’t die on their own? Until they can take care of themself?”

“And how long will that be?”

“How should I know? None of us have been born babies before! Probably a couple years? Like a decade?”

“A decade.” he raises an eyebrow.

“Probably a little longer than that, but probably no longer than 20 years. Humans stop growing around then.”

Macaque takes a moment to think, seemingly calculating something. His tail lashes behind him, clearly annoyed.

He seems to decide, setting his shoulders.

“Fine.” he grits out. “But only 20 years. After that you’re not protected by anything. And you’re not allowed to mess with me, either. Got it?”

The idea is actually proving less far fetched than he thought. Or maybe it’s just one of those super unlikely streaks of luck he gets sometimes.

“Deal.”

Macaque nods sharply.

“I will be making sure you’re not trying to cheat me. If you do, you’re dead.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less.” he states sarcastically.

Macaque sends him a final glare, before disappearing into his shadow, making crystal clear that this incredibly unpleasant conversation was now over.

Finally.

An oven timer sounds, loud and shrill.

“DANG IT.” 

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#<!3 #lego monkie kid #lmk #monkie kid #my au #lmk fanfiction #secrets in stone #lmk mk #lmk sun wukong #lmk macaque #monkie kid sun wukong #monkie kid macaque #monkie kid mk #lego monkie kid sun wukong #lego monkie kid macaque #lego monkie kid mk

[kenobster]

3, 18 and 29 please <3333

From AO3 Wrapped [Writers' Edition]

Thank you for the ask, anon! ^_^

#3. What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?

I hate to be a cliche of myself again, but Five Peggats Each. (And this includes all things I've ever written in my life actually :D). There's a few reasons for it, I think. One, it's like HUGELY within my comfort zone. The limited setting, the noncon, the tropes of the characters themselves. This is the type of story I have the most practice with, so it naturally comes easier and in better quality I think? Two, how, despite it being a comfort zone, I've used this fic as kind of a sandbox to experiment a lot of different writing techniques. For example, this is the most POVs I've ever written in a single fandom, let alone a single story (which usually stays around 1-2). For other examples, like, I've tried to be really mindful about metaphors/prose and how they can twist reality (like that time I spent like 8 hours researching in-universe Star Wars bands & instruments just so I could write one paragraph lmao)... or even how I recently tried to use second person POV to give the reader the same disassociation/discomfort/dysphoria that Anakin was feeling after regaining use of the Force. These experiments were all really hard to pull off, and I'm proud of myself for attempting them. And three, how I've allowed 5PE to be a project that can take as long as I want it to take to finish, so long as I do finish it. So on one hand, it's been a really good exercise in self-discipline & practice in maintaining my passion for the story, despite the constant barrage of shiny new plot bunnies. And on the other hand, the lack of a time pressure allows me to really spend time on the quality of every single line (excepting human mistakes & typos of course lmfao), while also not letting that perfectionism stand in the way of progress. It's really helped me become more confident in storycrafting from beginning to end, in a way I've never really felt in my old fandom or writing. On top of all that, it's the only fic that I can actually read after posting updates without feeling like it's exfoliating my entire body to do so lol. I actually enjoy reading it sometimes. So that's nice.

#18. The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year?

Answered here. :)

#29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year

Really hard one omg. If I have to choose something I've already posted on ao3, then it'd probably be one of these three: (1) in Five Peggats Each, the passage I also described above regarding Anakin's fever as it relates to the jizz band & cantina in chapter 6; the passage I put in the fic summary for Every Shadow, but the full version of it as written in chapter 2, not the abridged version in the summary; and (3) the opening paragraph of What Dead Things See.

But but but imo -trembles with excitement (I've been dying to show this, folks, what a good opportunity)- none of those passages even hold a candle to this thing that poured out of my brain one sleepless night at 2am for some unposted/unfinished oneshot:

For a moment, when he was nine years old, Anakin thought himself to be a whore. In an effort to scrub the slave out of him, the temple healers had pumped him full of vaccines and medications and water and food. He'd been lying on a brand new bed in a brand new room and counting the speeders whose lights flashed across the wall. That's when the memory burned. If they want you for your strength, his anma said, then they won't squander a second of it. Your back will ache and your feet will throb before the very first sunset. But Anakin's back wasn't aching and his feet didn’t throb. If they want you for your mind, they'll test your skills and put you to work, and they'd tested him, yes, but not his ability to steer the yoke of a podracer at the drop of a pin, nor his ability to disassemble and reassemble any gadget known to sentient life. They'd only studied the gaps in his knowledge and he'd had none of the answers and he'd seen the pity in their gazes. And if they feed you, said his anma, if they let you rest in a bed and say they'll take care of you, then the first chance you get, you must run. As fast as you can, as hard as you can, even if they activate your bomb. Because some fates, my love, are worse than death. You must always be wise enough to know that.  And Anakin, well fed and well rested, hadn't wanted to run fast or run hard or detonate his bomb. Anakin hadn't wanted to escape this new place that sang of plenty and of love and of home. So he pushed himself to his feet and stumbled through the darkened shared quarters until he found his new master's bed. Clammy, feverish, and half-asleep, Anakin crawled under the covers and felt around for his master's trousers. Obi-Wan awoke in an instant.  That night, they found no rest at all—rather, hours of conversation while Anakin shivered on the couch huddled in afghans and quilts and comforters and tried to explain that, yes, he knew he was free and he knew he was safe and he knew all he had to say was a word and he'd be taken wherever else he wanted by whomever else he wanted and that, no, Obi-Wan had never said or done anything to suggest such a thing was wanted and that if he ever did going forward, Anakin would tell him straight away, and that, yes, he understood the difference between a master and a Master and that, no, he didn't need to use a different word—because Obi-Wan didn't yet know that there are some things you learn with your mind but other things you learn with your body, and that there's no actual function in the branding of a slave because the brand is already burnt into a slave's mind, as crisply and as permanently, as a molten pattern pressed to flesh. As he kneels before his Master, Anakin decides that Palpatine would have liked the gift of a nine-year-old groping beneath the bed sheets better. It would have saved them all a lot of time.

I will finish this one day... Have about 3 scenes written, and just need to write 1.5 scenes more. But the above part stands pretty well on its own so hopefully you all enjoyed! ^_^

#palpakin #anakin & obi-wan #anakin #obi-wan #anakin x palpatine #CW noncon #fic excerpt #mine #excerpt #answer #anon #AOP oneshot #long post

[pinkcrocss]

Limoreau #2: No Two Sides

A/n: Yay! Another One-Shot while I continue to procrastinate on my multi-chapter fics lol

This one ended up being waaayyyy longer than I wanted and I'm not really that happy with it, but if I don't post it now, I literally never will. Anyway, here's my second fanfiction ever.

The initial premise was "Villain!Marie", but it turned into something else

Think, Jordan and Marie on opposing sides

4,400 words

Dodging the path of the laser beam headed towards them, Jordan felt sweat drip down their face as they sent another pulse blast towards their would-be attacker. Knocking her off-balance, Jordan slid across the ground, swapping back into their male form just as an ice-shard was hurled towards them. Checking the perimeter of the room, Jordan could see the bodies of Vought’s security forces strung around as well as one or two incapacitated rebel Supes.

Initially, the fight had begun at the entryway of Vought tower, when they had been ambushed by members of a supe rebel group.

Well, an “ambush” was far from what it truly was, as Vought actually received intel of the imminent attack a few days prior. That’s why they had seen it fit to ensure that Luke, Andre, Jordan and the other remaining members of the Seven would be in Vought tower that day, as well as beefing up their security forces around the perimeter.

The group, Bloodbath, had been slowly growing in popularity and notoriety over the past several years. At first, Vought had tried to obscure any knowledge of the group’s existence. A group of rogue supes, turning on the very company that created them wasn't exactly a good look. But after several high profile attacks on both public and secret Vought facilities, it had become an impossible task. With a campaign of freeing all the imprisoned supes from Vought facilities like Elmira, Shady grove and even the recently exposed “woods”; their aim to “expose Vought’s true corruption”; as well as a charismatic leader, Jordan could almost understand why so many dangerous/unmarketable Supes had begun gravitating to the group.

In all honesty, Vought had probably viewed the upcoming attack as a PR win. An attack from a small group of dissatisfied, defective supes that they could paint as supervillains, defeated by the Seven on their home turf. This was much needed in the wake of homelander’s recent “retirement”. After having subdued him using the strength of the re-awakened Soldier boy in order to stop Homelander's plans for supe domination at the White House, what remained of the seven seemed a weak imitation of what it had once been. Led by Starlight as the new team captain, the remaining ranks consisted of A-train, Silver Kincaid from the UK, and 5 new grads essentially plucked from the top rankings of God U; which just so happened to include Jordan, Luke and Andre. This was the exact PR event Vought needed to highlight the strength of the new Seven. Unfortunately, what they hadn’t counted on, was her.

Jordan was sure that the other members of the Seven were still preoccupied fighting off the small, borderline army of rogue supes infesting every corner of Vought tower. It was becoming more clear that that was the plan all along. 

Initially the attack had started at the entrance of HQ. A barrage of rogue supes going after every human in the vicinity. But as reports started coming in of similar attacks at every major entry and exit of Vought tower, two things were made clear: (1) Vought had severely underestimated exactly how many supes this group had at their disposal and (2) This was a much more coordinated attack than anybody had anticipated. 

The chaotic coordination of the whole thing was what raised Jordan’s suspicions. There didn’t seem to be a goal. They weren’t targeting anyone in particular, nor did they seem to be moving towards any place in particular. It almost felt like a distraction. And that was what led Jordan to branch off on their own and head to the basement, where they knew the archives were held. It would be the most difficult area to infiltrate, seeing as there was no direct entry from the outside.

And that is where Jordan found themselves now, facing off against a more elite delegation of the attacking supes, that had been dutifully attempting to take down the barriers that sealed the Vought archives, for whatever reason, Jordan couldn't fathom.

The security personnel for the archives had already been defeated, and Jordan had managed to take down two of the rogue supes, leaving them to face off with the remaining three: the girl with laser eyes, the guy with ice powers, and a third one that hadn’t done much of anything yet.

Laser girl was once again rising and Jordan had switched back to their female form so they could dodge the projectiles being sent by the Ice guy. Quickly switching to their Male form as they sensed another laser blast coming from the girl, they didn‘t have enough time to avoid the ice sheet that the other supe had created on the ground behind them, before they fell on their back. Slightly disoriented, Jordan attempted to get up, only to feel the ground around them begin to warp. They felt a sudden sharp heat as if they were being surrounded by hot magma. 

Thankfully, being in their male form kept them from taking any physical damage, but the pain could still be felt. Jordan looked up to see the third supe, who until that moment hadn’t been doing much, carefully maneuvering their arms. At the same time, the metallic ground around them started to change shape and wrap around their torso, arms and legs, essentially sealing them to the ground. 

Jordan hastily tried to maneuver their body up in an attempt to free themselves, but as they had assumed, they were well and truly stuck. For now they would stay in their male form to hopefully withstand the barrage of attacks soon to come their way, as they could only pray that one of their team members would have the foresight to also check down in the archives.

As expected both laser girl and ice guy immediately started laying into them with a flurry of attacks. Jordan’s male form could withstand it for now, but they knew eventually the damage would start to bleed through. 

Quickly they closed their eyes to block out any errant ice shards from the bombardment of ice projectiles hitting their torso. They tried to ignore the mounting pressure of the Laser beams at their chest.

“What the hell?? Nothing's working!” Jordan could hear a raspy voice complain. Probably the ice guy, they thought.

A more feminine voice chimed in, “Just keep going. He can't hold out forever.” Laser girl.

Just as Jordan was beginning to lose hope in any actual help arriving in time, they felt both the ice attacks and Laser attacks suddenly come to a stop. They had just enough time to briefly open their eyes before their ears were assaulted with a piercing screech.

They could blearily make out the shapes of various Vought security forces rushing into the room, having finally picked up on the security breach in the archives. The idiots were blasting the high frequency supe repelling alarm, that while having incapacitated Jordan’s three attackers, was also giving them the sensation that their head was going to literally explode.

Unable to maneuver their arms or body in general, Jordan was quickly reaching their breaking point when they saw a sudden flash of red. Turning their head as far as they could, they could see that the Vought security officer that had been holding the alarm device was screaming while bleeding out of a severed arm, the other half laying on the ground, still holding the awful device. 

He could see fear and panic on the faces of the security guards that didn’t have their masks lowered as a figure stepped into the room, followed by two other rebel supes. She strode in confidently, arm outstretched towards the currently bleeding guard. Her long, dark red trench coat swished by her calves, she was wearing her locs in a complicated braid going down her back, and of course the red lipstick Jordan always associated with her on her lips.

The leader of the rebel group bloodbath calmly strode further into the room until she was right next to the guard that was still clutching what was left of their severed arm. She then cooly stepped onto the alarm device, destroying it. As she slowly pulled out her ear plugs, even Jordan gave a relieved sigh at the blissful silence, though they knew the danger was anything but lessened.

There was an eerie stillness in the room as the Vought security personnel began full on panicking, terrified to make a single move. Jordan could hear anxious whispers and mutters around the room.

“That's her isn’t it?”

“...Bloody Marie? That’s what they call her!”

“Shit! I heard she can turn a person inside out and strangle them with their intestines…”

Glancing up at her face, Jordan caught Marie rolling her eyes. “Are they still calling me that dumb-ass name?” She sounded almost exasperated. “Honestly, at this point I’m fully blaming Andre.”

The other formerly incapacitated, rogue, supes began to slowly rise as they recovered from the auditory attack of the anti-supe alarm. Seeing this, the Vought guards, having broken out of their stupor, were quick to point their weapons towards the immediate threat in the room, Marie.

Seeing a flash of rage on Marie’s face Jordan tried to prevent the inevitable, “MARIE! NO!”

It was already too late as the room descended into a cacophony of head explosions. The guards were running and ducking in panic, some attempting to shoot her with their weapons. 

Marie would simply cause the arms of the guards pointing their guns to explode before turning her sights to more of her victims. Jordan could do nothing but close their eyes as they tried to dissociate from the screams of agony and fear. 

Finally, after what felt like hours, but was probably only a few minutes, there was quiet. They could hear heavy breathing and the sound of liquid dripping. As they opened their eyes and took a look around, they could see how Marie’s little group truly lived up to their name, Bloodbath. 

The entire area was awash in red blood. Dripping down the walls and pooling around the bodies on the ground. Glancing at Marie's face, she looked completely out of it. Staring ahead as if she was in another place at a different time. Just as suddenly she seemed to snap back into herself, glancing around the room with obviously feigned disinterest before turning her eyes back to the other occupants.

“Mel! Jacob! Great job clearing the scene.” She was smiling and speaking to Laser girl and ice boy.

“Why don’t you head out and stay as lookout while we finish up here. Make sure the corridor stays clear for at least another fifteen minutes.”

The two supes nodded in deference, before quickly stumbling out. Still reeling from the after effects of the noise attack.

Seemingly satisfied that she had the appropriate lookouts, Marie walked over to join the other two supes she had brought along with her.

The first was a thin, small mousy looking young girl with Dark skin and big round eyeglasses. The other was a rather stocky, heavy set white guy with limp, brown hair and freckles all over his face.

Marie was looking at the girl, a gentle hand laid on her shoulder. “Hey, Aisha. You got this okay? Just like we practiced.”

The girl who had been staring at the ground nervously, looked up at Marie with pure adoration. You would think Marie had hung the moon in the sky.

“Okay…” she answered in a quiet, shy voice, before bounding over to the keypad that granted access to the security doors of the archives. Jordan watched as she gently placed her fingers on the keypad before her eyes started to emit a bright green glow and she almost seemed to fall into a trance, muttering an array of fast moving words and equations that Jordan could barely make out.

Turning around to the other Supe, Marie angled her head to gesture towards the locked opening of the main archives. “Marco, you know what to do.”

Giving an affirmative nod, Marco, the bigger supe, calmly headed off to stand where Marie had indicated.

Jordan immediately felt when Marie’s eyes landed on them. The weight of Marie’s gaze had become a familiar sensation now. Of the various encounters they had had when dispatched to handle yet another Bloodbath attack on a Vought center, it was a sensation they always seemed to seek out. Sometimes they felt it, sometimes they didn’t.

In the time that they had been lost in their own head, Marie had managed to saunter over to where they were still melded into the ground. Now she crouched down and gently looked over them.

“Jordan…So sorry, you had to get caught up in this.” Her face slipped into a gentle smile. 

“Although, I shouldn’t be surprised you were the only one who saw through our little distraction play.” She let out a humorless chuckle.

“Marie.” Jordan plead. “You have to stop this. Look at all these casualties.” 

Here they tried to angle their head towards the dead bodies scattered all around the room. “This can’t be worth it.”

Marie’s face looked blank. Jordan thought back to all the glimpses of her they’d caught over the years as Bloodbath had been growing into a bigger  threat. Ever elusive, Jordan and the rest of the seven were never able to pin her down as she and her fiercely loyal cohorts would destroy more and more of Vought's detainment centers, leaving behind mass human casualties and adding more unstable supes to their ranks. Those same supes pledging themselves to Marie with a devotion that bordered on spiritual.

Just as quickly, a different glimpse of Marie flashed through their mind. A young, fresh-faced, doe-eyed Marie. Freshly enrolled in God U, fawning over Jordan as if they’d hung the stars up in the sky, desperately excited to join Brink’s crime fighting course and make her way into the seven.

Jordan hadn’t even thought twice about rejecting her. No social media presence, unmarketable powers, she was probably just some overly entitled freshman, Mommy and daddy’s perfect little hero, Jordan had thought. Probably never heard no before in her life. If only they had known…

If they had known, would it have changed anything? If they had known about Red river.. If they had known brink was gonna frame her for the accident at the Vought tower party… if they had known about Elmira, about the woods, about Brink… would they have intervened? Could they have prevented what happened?

Jordan was brought out of their thoughts by a scoff from Marie. Looking up, they caught sight of glaring at them sideways.

“Jordan… Vought has to be brought down. Whatever sacrifices have to be made will be worth it.”

“Really?!” Jordan was frustrated now. 

“Is this what it’s about? Some kind of vengeance kick by just aimlessly slaughtering humans? You think that’s gonna help anybody??!”

Marie actually looked dumbfounded for a minute. “Aimlessly… Ugh, Jordan! Oh my god, I’m not Homelander! This isn’t some fucking supe-supremacy shit. This is about bringing down Vought! I’m not just going after innocent humans.”

Jordan thinks back to that fateful Night at Godolkin. The blood and bodies all over the front entrance to the freshman dorms. As Vought had reported, one of the new freshmen had gone crazy. Lost her mind they said. There were reports that she had been causing a disturbance threatening other students, and when Godolkin had sent security to check it out, she had murdered them in cold blood. 12 innocent humans. Their bodies eviscerated so badly, it was borderline impossible to distinguish them from one another. Then she had supposedly run off, not to be heard from again until a month later when there was a violent break-in at the Elmira Adult facility. 

Jordan could remember the somber faces of the family members of the victims at the Vigil that was held at Godolkin. That was a sight they would never forget.

They looked Marie coldly in the eye. “Is that why you senselessly murdered those 12 people back at Godolkin? In cold Blood??!”

“Senseless… In cold bl-” her mouth gave a sardonic twist. 

“Wow, Jordan. And here I thought you were one of the smarter ones. You truly drank the Vought koolaid, huh? Was it worth it? Kissing ass? Ignoring what was right in front of you so you could get that cushy little spot in the Seven? I can’t believe I actually..”

Here she seemed to stop herself. Jordan almost questioned her before she suddenly turned to look them square in the eye. Jordan could see nothing but rage in her eyes.

“DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHERE I’D BE IF I HADN’T FOUGHT BACK THAT NIGHT?!” The other two occupants in the room flinched, and seeing this, Marie tried to compose herself.

“Innocent people? Please.” Here she gave another eye roll.

“Vought sent those thugs to kidnap me. To take me to Elmira since your precious Brink kicked me out. You never questioned why they sent Vought security to handle an “out of control student” instead of campus security? You never questioned why they were wearing tactical gear? You never noticed the fucking van at the crime scene?”

Jordan tried to ignore the growing anxiety they could feel at the back of their mind. Because yes. The story had always seemed a bit convenient. But what else did they have to go off of?

“They would have kept me there indefinitely. I would have never been free again. But you wouldn’t know anything about that, huh? I mean, you let the woods happen right under your nose.” At this Marie sent them a sadistic smirk.

Jordan felt their face go hot. They recalled when the woods had finally been exposed. Marie and her cohorts had broken into the school. Freeing the trapped kids and revealing all the sick and twisted experimentation that had been happening. The newly freed inhabitants had immediately set upon the school, desperate to enact their vengeance. 

At the end of the day it had been an aptly named bloodbath. The students at the school and Marie’s group had lost people on both sides. Including Luke’s brother. Luke had been inconsolable. 

At the end of the day, Brink, Shetty and a Dr. Cardosa had all been implicated when everything came to light. Jordan had been heartbroken. Contending with the fact that his only father figure as well as moral compass had been mixed up in all of that.

Marie was still speaking. “I mean, when I got there do you know what they were doing to poor Aisha?” At this, she sent a gentle look to the young girl who seemed to be communing with the unseen computer codes within the archive’s security system.

“They had her hooked up to all these devices, trying to see if they could overload her with all the information on the world wide web! She was catatonic for WEEKS after we rescued her!”

Jordan tried to imagine it, and their heart broke a little.

“Jordan.” Marie went on. “This all begins and ends with Vought. Homelander, Soldier boy, Shetty, Brink, me… there’s one common denominator. All the lies, all the corruption, all the bloodshed. If the rest of the world knew what Vought truly was, maybe everyone else could have a chance. Maybe all this misery could actually count for something.”

Now her eyes were looking into theirs imploringly. Jordan tried to think of what to say but was quickly interrupted before they could. 

“Marie! I’m in!” Squeaked an excitable little voice.

Marie turned around, a proud smile on her face. “Aisha, that’s amazing! I told you could do it! Now stand back a bit. Marco, you know what to do.”

The girl, Aisha, did as she was told just as there was a muted BOOM sound.

Jordan flinched, but Marie gently reassured them. “Don’t worry about it. Marco’s gotten really good at controlling the range of his explosive output.” You could almost think Marie was just an older sister cheering on her younger siblings at some kind of school competition. 

Glancing up, Jordan could see acrid smoke around a hole in the center of the archive doors. Just as quickly Marie got up and began making her way over. Pulling some kind of device out of her pockets, she handed it to Aisha, gently murmuring some instructions to her and sending her off.

Jordan was starting to feel panicked. 

“Marie!” They called. “Marie! You can’t do this!”

Marie gave a pause but kept walking.

“I’m sorry!” 

That made her stop.

“I’m sorry! Okay?” Jordan continued. “I’m sorry I rejected you from Intro. I was shallow and I made some dumbass assumptions about you. I’m sorry we left you behind at the Vought tower party. I’m sorry I bought into Brink’s bullshit; that I didn’t realize he’d make you take the fall. I’m sorry I let Vought almost take you. I’m sorry I was so fucking blind okay? But please, Marie. I’m begging you. There has to be another way.”

Marie, who had been frozen up until that moment, sighed, looking almost defeated. Slowly, she made her way to Jordan and crouched down again.

“Jordan… you don’t have anything to be sorry for. My fight was never with you or the other supes, or even the Seven. This isn’t about humans vs. supes, this isn’t some personal vendetta, this is about Vought. All of us are just pawns in the system, and the only way to end this, for our kind to be free, is to bring down Vought.”

She made sure to look Jordan straight in the eye. “You're not a person to them Jordan, you’re a product. I’m trying to save you. Us. All of us.”

They were both looking into each other's eyes. Neither willing to break their stalemate, before Laser girl suddenly came bursting into the room.

“Marie! We tried to hold them off but they’ve figured out we’re down here. I think they’re bringing reinforcements.”

Marie turned to face the door to the archive room. “Aisha?”

The timid girl gave a nod. “I’ve downloaded everything we need.”

Marie gave a sigh of relief. “Okay.” 

Turning back to Jordan, she gently stroked the side of their face. “Jordan, at some point you’re going to see Vought for what they truly are. And when you do, I’ll come and find you. Believe it or not, I always had a spot saved for you, right by my side.”

And with that she bent down, softly brushing her lips on Jordans cheek before getting up to join the rest of her crew.”

Jordan could only watch her lean figure strut confidently out of the room, feeling something like a pang in their chest. They’d have to address that some other time.

As they lay in their grounded prison, waiting for reinforcements to come and finally release them, they could hear shouting and commotion out in the corridor. The reinforcements must have run into Marie’s group. For some reason, this time as they listened to sounds of screaming and agony and fear, all they felt was a cool numbness.

The Next Day

“Tonight breaking news! As new leaks expose decades of violence and corruption from the highest levels of Vought international. Reports detailing the debauched and downright violent behavior of some of Vought’s most beloved heroes, including years of cover ups. Furthermore, the FBI will be investigating accounts of Vought institutionalizing and holding supes against their will in various-”

Ashley quickly paused the news report as she turned to the members of the seven seated around the table in the meeting room of Vought Tower. All of them were in various states of repair as they healed from battles they had fought the day prior. 

Jordan for their part had their arm in a sling, from where it had been bent at an uncomfortable angle for too long and had caused a strain. Other than that, most of their superficial wounds had already healed up. On their cheek, they still felt the ghost of Marie’s touch.

Ashley was in full panic Mode.

“We’re so fucked! Okay, we gotta figure out how to spin this. Homelander’s not around anymore, so we can definitely try to pin the woods and Elmira as his doing. I mean they can’t prove otherwise, he was the face of the company for years!”

Jordan watched as she absentmindedly pulled out a thin chunk of hair.

“Shit! But what can we do about the insider trading and the russian arms deal? Jordan!”

Jordan looked up, the other team members also looking in their direction.

“Jordan this is perfect!” Ashley barreled on. “We need to make sure the younger generations aren’t spreading the mainstream narrative on social media, so that’s where you come in! We’ve been thinking up a new pride campaign for you, you know since pride month’s coming up. This will be a great distraction. You talk about your gender identity, how accepting your parents were, how Vought gave you the confidence to-”

Jordan tuned her out as they watched her ramble with an almost manic smile on her face.

“You’re not a person. You’re a product to them.”

Those words still rattled around in their head.

All Jordan had ever wanted to do was be a hero. But more and more, they were realizing that they no longer knew what that meant. They’d accomplished their biggest dream. They were in the seven, and yet they realized they hadn’t felt heroic even once the whole time they’d been here.

The feeling of this revelation reminded them of how they had felt when they had learned the truth about Brink.

“...at some point you’re going to see Vought for what they truly are. And when you do, I’ll come and find you.”

Jordan recalled those words, as they stared out the large windows of Vought tower, dissociating from the meeting still happening around them.

Perhaps they could take a walk tonight, they thought. To clear their head. No thoughts, just simply see where their feet would take them.

#It's embarrassing how long it took me to write this #You can see the writing quality dip like halfway through lmao #I just wanted it done but it kinda kept dragging out #gen v fics #gen v #jordan li #marie moreau #limoreau

[spoctertech]

Warmth of the Soul-A Cyphmen Fic

CHAPTER 1

Cold

All life needs temperature regulation, though mammals can usually self-regulate their body heat internally. … well… Omen can’t do that. Heat is a very important part of Omen's life, he needs it to survive. That’s why he bathes in the sun, the glorious sun.

Omen shared this characteristic with reptiles, and right now, he is missing the beautiful sun. He yearned for the radiating ball of burning gas in the sky. So warm.

Omen sighed with a frown. He missed the heat. This is terrible.

Why should Omen be the one in this accursed world to be infected with this? Winter is the worst. Omen hates to bunker down for 3 months every year. His blood basically freezes if he tries to do anything outside. Do you know how terrible that is? It's so hard to move, and even after you heat up your basically out the whole day! Not fun. Just to be able to walk out of his house he has to wear more layers than an onion. Omen has to wear multiple sweatpants, 3 long-sleeved shorts, and 2 hoodies just to be able to not collapse.

Not only does this season almost put him in a coma it also brings more little children singing silly songs. Omen crossed his arms and let out an exasperated humph.

Omen wonders why Cypher decided to such a cold area. Or why he even agreed to live here. He knew what would happen every winter.

But his train of thought was interrupted by the rustling of sheets behind him.

But then he felt a wave of heat come over him. A surprising but not unwelcome development for the wraith. He felt his face get pricked with heat, the man behind him leaning him and putting his head behind Omens neck. He embraced the gloved black hands around his lower waist. Heat radiating from every spot he was making contact. It felt good, like coming into a hot room after spending the day in the cold. He felt the warm breaths press up on his cold next sending ripples of warmth through every nerve in his body.

But as quickly as he felt these ripples the faster they were ripped from his grasp. He normally wakes up before his love but due to the cold, he was restless. Omen would never admit this to anyone but Cypher but he loved being wrapped in the arms of his lover. He loves feeling connected to Cypher in body temperature.

But what he didn't like was the snow in his state. The evil icy snow, poaching his precious mobility. However, Cypher on the other hand LOVES winter, like loves loves. Sometimes he wonders if Cypher likes the winter more than him. Every year he will put up silly little lights and break out all of the toy snowmen to put in the front. Omen doesn't understand how, winter- at least for him- is horrible in every way.

Omen feels a shift behind him, and then, a barrage of kisses. The arms around him squeezing tight.

“Good morning, Omen,” Cypher said, Omen being able to hear the grin in his voice.

“How did you know I was awake?” Omen replied, in his raspy morning voice.

“You were restless” Cypher chuckled.

Shit. He must not have noticed, he has a bad habit of doing that. Omen just hopes it didn't wake up Cypher. But he was probably ready to frolic in the winter atmosphere.

One last kiss to his wheel and the arms around him disappear.

Stealing his cold once again.

Omen let out a sigh, watching as Cypher got out of bed and made his way towards the window. He pulled back the curtains and peered outside, his face lighting up at the sight of the snow-covered ground.

“Look, Omen! It snowed even more last night!” Cypher exclaimed, turning to face him with a huge grin.

Omen just shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He couldn't help but feel a little jealous of Cypher's love for the cold season.

“I'll be in the kitchen making breakfast, want me to make your favorite?” Cypher asked, already starting to pull on some pants.

Omen nodded, grateful for the offer. He watched as Cypher made his way out of his sight feeling the cold settle back in once again

With a warm feeling spreading in his chest, Omen put on his clothes and made his way to the kitchen. The smell of coffee and pancakes filled the air, and he couldn't help but smile at the sight of Cypher cooking away in his apron.

"Morning," Omen said, perching his head on Cypher’s shoulder

"Morning, love," Cypher replied, planting a kiss on his cheek. Sending warmth through him. Only letting out a sluggish “mmn”.

Omen craved the couch, the frosty air cripling him. He took a few steps and ended up plopping himself on the couch, buried in blankets. And a few minutes later Cypher walked over and handed Omen a cup.

Heat.

The cup felt so warm in the wraith's hands. almost as warm as the coffee residing inside. Omen held the cup with both hands, holding it close in an attempt to heat up himself. He wished he could suck the heat out of the cup he was holding. That would be nice. Though it still felt nice to hold.

At the moment, Omen was concerned. VERY concerned, for his boyfriend of course. The aforementioned was currently making breakfast with a large smile on his face as Omen sat at the table. The very troubling part being that he was shirtless.

Omen knew that Cypher enjoyed the cold. He basically thrived in it. But surely he has to be SOMEWHAT cold, right?

Meanwhile he felt covered from head to toe.

Just to get out of bed this morning, Omen was wearing a hoodie, with the hood up and closed as much as it could of course, a long sleeved shirt, and sweatpants. As well as two pairs of thick underwear. Which was uncomfortable but, the last thing he needed was his dick contracting frostbite.

He took a sip of his hot cocoa, letting the warmth sliver down his throat and spread throughout the rest of his body. He mentally shivered and tingles flew through his spine.

Omen glanced over at Cypher who was swaying his hips ever so slightly while cooking. A soft hum escaped from his mouth as the grease sizzled and popped. Cypher's grin was wide, and he bobbed his head to an inaudible rhythm while tapping his right foot.

Omen couldn't help but admire the man, he was a beam of light in any situation. Even on the gloomiest of days, or frosty winter mornings, he radiated joy. It seemed almost unfathomable to be down in his presence. However, Omen could sure try.

Winter is horrible.

A hand placed a plate before him, interrupting his detestation of anything chilly. As he glanced at it, a faint steam emanated from the contents, filling the atmosphere with the coziness the man craved. His stomach growled as he picked up a fork.

Cypher sat next to Omen. Putting a hand on his back and rubbing it.

“Omen, Are you ok? you're tense,” he said in a caring tone.

He directed a sharp look at the watchdog before realizing his own glare and softening his expression. Unbeknownst to himself, he looked and felt upset but Cypher could sense his mood before he even realized it himself.

Instead of responding verbally he crashed his head into the other’s shoulder. Letting it rest there as he soaked in his bodyheat.

Cypher hummed and pulled him closer, trapping him comfortably in his arm and continued to eat silently. Omen wasn’t even hungry, he just wanted to feel the mans signature warmth against himself. Cypher’s rough hand was massaging his upper-arm, and Omen was certain he was in heaven.

He felt himself start to relax, peace flooding his body as the hand worked circles on his shoulder. Such a tiny action, but the tiny actions are always the ones that hit home runs.

He didn't even realize it, but he was practically clinging onto the man. His arms snaked themselves around Cypher and tried to pull him even closer. His mind was calm and swimming with only one thought, “I love him.”

(I hope you liked it everyone!! You can follow my a03 acc[same name] Also sorry for the strange formatting, the a03 to Tumblr is strange.

CHAPTER 2

Cold.

Omen was scowling and crossing his arms.

Him and Cypher went out for the day to meet up with a few of the other agents. The ghost was wearing too many layers, he looked like shit. It was cold, blistering cold. Everything was covered in white.

Viper had the wonderful idea to meet up at a café and enjoy a nice hot cup of coffee with everyone. This would be a perfect idea…

IF THEY DIDN’T ALL DECIDE TO SIT ON THE PATIO!

It would be the worst day of his entire life, but luckily they had a large heat lamp on the patio. Omen respected that. That was awesome.

“What's up with him?” a snarky voice asked, joined by a finger jutting out straight at him.

Cypher stopped his conversation with the other three and glanced at the two of them.

Chamber was right across from Omen, both seated at the far left of the table. Just as the watchdogs mouth opened to answer, he was stopped.

“Why don’t you ask me yourself?”

“... Alright. What’s up with you? You look like a cartoon character.” Chamber’s expression could’ve been made out of stone, it was unreadable.

“Fuck you.” “You wish you could.” “Snarky bitch.” “Budget casper.”

Omen uncrossed his arms, and his hands slammed on the table. “TAKE IT BACK!” Omen was leaning forward, in a display of aggression. Meanwhile, Chamber was completely unbothered, maybe even slightly satisfied.

“Make me.” Omen was now the one who was pointing at the other. “I FUCKING WILL!” Omen began to get out of his seat but a large and very firm in its intent to keep the other down sat on his shoulder. The hand squeezed and Omen began to sit back down.

Reyna got up and walked to their edge of the table. She leaned over it, in between the two of them. Her voice hushed but frustrated, “You two shut the fuck up , you’re causing a scene. Now is not the time.” The ghost and sniper collectively huffed as she sat besides Viper again.

Cypher started, “Omen has a rough time around the winter season, due to being cold blooded.” Another squeeze to his shoulder. Being a seasoned engineer, the man really knew his way around his hands. Omen’s heart fluttered. ‘He’d much rather be home currently.”

Chamber tsk’d and Omen’s heart stopped fluttering. “Ah, so that’s why he ditches every meet up and training session when it's cold outside. Always thought it was suspicious how you always got sick every single winter without fail. Allergies my fat ass.”

“Actually i was sick, i get-” Omen noticed the sniper mocking him, making a stupid and punchable face while mimicking his speech. “...” Chamber stopped and stared at him, smirking.

One last squeeze and then the beloved hand that he loved so much returned to its owner’s side. Damn you, Chamber. Damn you.

CHAPTER 3

Heat.

Omen could feel himself blush and his insides squirmed. A hand that felt rough and hot was rubbing tantalizing horizontal lines on his lower back, as a pinky followed the motion slightly below his jogging pants. Lazy and slow. Omen was laying on him whilst being held by him.

Him and Cypher were attempting to watch a movie, snuggling on the couch under a blanket. Or at least, he is. Cypher is attempting something else entirely. Though his eyes were glued to the screen; Omen knew the watchdog was focusing much more on him.

Having been boyfriends for years and fiancès for months, Omen knew exactly what his man was attempting to do. Rile him up. Cheeky bastard.

They were watching a horror flick, which is how Omen knew there was no way in hell Cypher was possibly paying attention, Cypher couldn't handle being alone in a dark room. Omen side eyed him to get a good look at his face, it was as stoic as ever. He definitely had other things on his mind.

A woman on the tv screamed and was getting hacked to bits by a large man with a machete. Suddenly, Cypher’s hand felt lower than before and Omen felt his joggers shift slightly. The man's pinky was no longer just above his ass.

He felt red hot, his blood felt well past boiling but he was the opposite of angry. Which was highly unusual for him. He must resist the man’s temptations! The seducer beneath him had strong tactics, but Omen was sure he could last the night without succumbing!

The same pinky belonging to the man brushed past something. Instinct took over the ghost and he snapped his head to look down at the watchdog staring at him with his eyes wide. Cypher, who took his leisure slowly turning his head and craning his neck a little to meet his lover's gaze. Simply said…

“What?” His voice was soft and teasing and there was a smirk on his snout. Although tiny, it was immediately noticed by the man on top of him. “This is making you feel warm, is it not?”

Suddenly, all desire to speak was drained out of him. He slowly lowered his head back to the watchdog’s neck and averted his attention back to the movie. Sure, there was now a man being dumped into an acid barrel while still alive. But, Omen couldn’t focus on all the cool effects and budget gore. His mind was swimming with naughty thoughts.

He felt a longer finger push and prod around almost as soon as they both turned their attention back to the screen. Oh yeah, this is where it gets good. Now this was some real warmth!

He bit the inside of his cheek and waited for an intrusion.

Just then a phone rang, and not just the finger, but the entire hand disappeared. Omen almost whined. Yes, he almost WHINED . That same hand was now wrapped around a phone.

Omen heard a small “shit.” come under the other man’s breath. “It's brimstone-” Cyphers eyes met his and sent him a soft apology.

Omen almost saw red. Those- those- those COCKBLOCKS! What is it they want now? This is ridiculous. They’re always calling his cypher, HIS MAN, out of the BLUE to pressure him to work. This is ludicrous. Awful. BLASPHEMY. He should go down there, and give the snooty higher ups a piece of his fuckin mind! Maybe a broken nose too-

“-make it up to you later.” And then the watchdog kissed his forehead. Suddenly, Omen no longer had any desire to yell at people in positions of power. The tall wormed his way out from beneath his ghost. Omen’s hand quickly shot up and turned Cypher’s head back towards him. The man’s thumb was milliseconds away from hitting that answer button. His fiancè’s face looked so handsome in his hand.

“You better.” The watchdog smiled, hit the answer button and then walked away. An annoyance in his tone.

Though frustrated, the promise of later was enough for the wraith. The other wasn’t one to disappoint. He could settle for later, that’s fine.

But then again… there goes warmth.

Oh well. It’ll be back soon anyways.

(Christmas chapter 4 coming soon hopefully! Please follow for more if you enjoyed this!)

#valorant #fanfic #cyphmen #cypher #fluff #cuddles #modern au #snow #winter #fanfiction #ooc #cold blooded #anger issues #cypher x omen

[poptod]

Hii! How are you? I don't want to bother you, but can I ask more of the Ahkmenrah x reader ( gn or male please if your comfortable with it). I love your writing. If not that's not a problem. Again I am sorry to bother you and have a nice day. :)

hello! i'm doing good, i have a crush on one of my friends and i've been making them a lot of crafts. anyway i don't know if you're talking about a continuation of an existing fic or if you just want more gn!readerxahk in general so I'm just going to go with the latter since there's no mention of a fic in your ask.

i'm actually working on an ahk fic right now that's implied male reader but again, no mentioned gender. i have four chapters of it up on AO3 called It Feels Like Being Alive. the first chapter is mostly setup though so if you want some fun little interactions I'll post a part of the fifth chapter that i havent posted yet. i'll put background under the cut in case someone cares about spoilers but i would recommend reading the previous chapters before this bit.

if you were talking about another fic and i'm just not connecting the dots please let me know!

Your name is Wau, and you are hiding the Prince from the wandering eyes of the Gods as your master is off running an unavoidable errand. You're a soldier from the underworld, and you're not really supposed to be talking to anyone in the first place, so Ahkmen's barrage of questions is a little daunting.

"I think you should rest your mind. You're asking so many questions your tongue must be on fire."

"Is that a common phrase in the Duat?" He asked with a sugary smile, leaning closer to you as you both sat on the dirt floor.

"No." You frowned. "And that's another question."

"Ugh!" He exclaimed, falling onto his back with his arms splayed dramatically across the room. "You're such a pedant."

"I never claimed to know anything, I'm just stating the obvious."

"That's exactly what a pedant is. Like, I know you said no questions and I asked you another questions, and that's because conversation is made up mostly of questions!" He spat out in a flurry of words.

There was almost a blush in his cheeks, matching the sudden depth and darkness of his pupils.

"Look, Wau, I want you to do something. For me," he said, and scooted closer to you.

You tried to move away, forgetting you were leant against a wall.

"Can you do that?" He asked as his voice turned smooth and honeyed.

"… depends on what it is," you said, ever the mediator.

"No," he said, narrowing his eyes at you. "Just do it for me. No denominatives."

"Fine."

Anything to get him out of your face; he was close enough for you to nearly feel his ghostly breath on your skin.

"Calm down, will you?" He asked in the most exhasperated voice you'd ever heard. "Have a conversation with me, like a normal person."

"I don't know if it's escaped you, but I am not a normal person. I don't think I even count as a person."

"Of course you're a person!" He exclaimed, as though you'd insulted him. "I've seen you laugh and… things. Of course you count. You've just… not had a lot of practice, being.. normal." He trailed off somewhat, before regaining his train of thought. "How long have you been alive, anyway?"

You glared at him, and thought to mention that that was yet again another question, but instead leased the breath in your chest, your eyes sliding shut.

"I don't know. There are no seasons in the Duat. Only the eternal harvest. The Gods don't share their timekeepers with the million shabtis that serve them."

"That's unfortunate," he said quietly, his eyes scanning your face with a gentleness. "And they don't let you come to Egypt much, then?"

"There is little reason to. The Gods love to come here themselves, they don't need to send their servants on 'errands' to a land they'd rather visit."

When you looked up, you found him with a smile on his face, staring at you warmly. Your brow furrowed in deep aversion.

"What?" You said flatly.

"This is a good start," he said, tilting his chin upwards. "Thank you for..." he sucked in a considerate breath, before breathing out the words, "taking my advice."

Your eyes widened, horrified by the warmth in your cheeks, and the sudden, sickening flutter in your chest.

"You're a very strange person," you finally said after a minute of staring at him silently.

He chuckled.

"And you're really clueless, aren't you?"

You frowned, and straightened your posture.

"Don't worry," he dismissed, "it's adorable."

#anon #ahkmenrah x reader