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captainscanadian · 3 years

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Sanguis Sanguinis Mei | Bucky Barnes x Reader (Part 2)

MY MASTERLIST || NAYNAY’S MASTERLIST

Series Masterlist

Summary: It’s the Roaring Twenties, and when Natasha gets kidnapped by a hunter, Y/N teams up with James to save her.

Word Count: 2435

Pairing: Vampire!Bucky Barnes x Vampire!Reader, Vampire!Natasha Romanoff x Hunter!Steve Rogers

Warnings: Death, Blood, Violence

A/N: This fic is a collaboration between @i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend and myself, and we decided to write a Vampire AU in honour of Halloween. I’m really excited to share this with you all, because Naynay and I enjoyed writing this so much. Divider credit to @whimsicalrogers!

At the turn of the twentieth century, Sir James decided to make the move across the pond, wanting a fresh start. Adopting the name of James Buchanan Barnes after the former president of the United States, and captivated by the American dream, he had managed to set up a speakeasy in Brooklyn. Before he knew it, his establishment became a safe place for all supernatural beings to unwind, and his business was booming as a result.

“Read ‘em and weep, boys. Full house, aces over queens.”

There was a chorus of groans from around the poker table, nearly loud enough to drown out the pretty bird singing. James smirked as he dragged the pile of chips towards himself.

“Getting pretty low on chips there, Rumlow,” he taunted.

“Don’t worry about me, Barnes. I feel my luck changing.” The werewolf sneered.

“I wouldn’t count on it. My lucky charm just walked in.” James remarked with a rather cheeky grin plastered across his face.

Y/N hmphed as she approached the table, hearing his comment. James sat with his back to the club - proof of how confident he was in his ability to handle anything or anyone that came his way. Even if she did try to creep up on him. He turned to watch her saunter towards him, a vision in red and black fringe and crystals.

“Lucky charm, hmm?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Always.”

“Well, well, well. Who’s this?” Rumlow leered.

“Someone who will take great pleasure in ripping you to shreds,” Y/N stated in a bored tone before James could even muster a growl.

Rumlow surged to his feet. “Listen, here you little bi-”

Y/N had him pinned against the wall by the throat in the blink of an eye. “I’m listening. What were you saying?” she taunted as he gasped for air. “Nothing. Oh you’re sorry for even thinking about speaking to a lady like that. Not good enough.”

“Doll,” James sighed with a clear hint of amusement. .

She glanced back at him and pouted.

“Really? Spoiling my fun already?”

The older vampire quirked an eyebrow at her, and she rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

She let the werewolf drop to the ground, stepping over him to make her way around the table.

“We need to talk,” she said in a low voice.

James nodded and stood up from the table. Snapping his fingers, two of his guards removed Rumlow, his friends following swiftly behind him.

“Come with me.” He led the way down the hallway of the club to his office. “Drink?” he offered, pulling two glasses from his bottom desk drawer.

“Do you have the good stuff? Or just the hooch you’re serving to the poor jerks out there?” She asked him, her lips curling into a smirk as she looked around his office.

He shot her a mildly disdainful look. “You think I’d drink that bathtub gin.” He pulled two crystal bottles from the drawer. “My finest whiskey or fresh O-negative?”

“Whiskey.” She stated, rather plainly.

He nodded and poured them both a drink. “I take it this isn’t a social call, but it’s good to see you, doll.”

A small smile graced her lips in spite of the serious nature of her visit. “It’s good to see you too, James.”

“Now, what’s wrong, sanguinis mei?” He asked her, a hint of worry evident in his tone.

Warmth filled her chest at the term of endearment, and she was reminded of the first time he had called her that, all those decades ago during one of her first nights at Bran Castle.

He had stopped by the guest room to give her her daylight ring, and found the young vampire feeling rather nervous about the choice she had made. While she had chosen to become a vampire, and had acknowledged that she had a lot to learn about this life, that did not mean that she was free of her guilt. She had killed the man who had tortured her, and surely, she had retained a bit of her humanity when it came to her guilt.

Thankfully, Sir James understood all too well about the guilt, for he himself had always felt like a monster for the horrific acts he had committed in the war against the Ottomans. That night, they had bonded over that, and Y/N had realized that this man was not as cruel as everyone made him out to be. He had a big heart, but it seemed that only Natasha had been able to see that. After that night, so did Y/N.

“Natasha missed our rendezvous.” She replied, letting out a nervous sigh as she sipped her drink.

“What?” James quipped, raising his brow as he sat at his desk.

“We were supposed to meet two days ago. Here. But she never showed.” She stated, clearly worried for her sire. “You know she’s not one to miss our rendezvous like this, James.”

“Any idea on where she could be?” He asked.

“There were rumors of a hunter in the area.” Y/N informed him. “I think he has her.”

“What’s his name?”

“Steve Rogers.”

James growled.

“I take it you know him.” She noted, not entirely surprised by his reaction.

“We’ve never met, but he’s caused a few problems for me in the past.” He replied with a sigh. “I know his usual haunts. I’ll take care of it.”

“We will take care of it.” She clarified, clearly not wanting to sit this one out.

“No, you’re staying here, sanguinis mei.” James told her, though it came out sounding more like an order.

“Like hell. She’s my sire,” she reminded him.

“Which is exactly why I’m not about to put you anywhere near the man who kidnapped her.” He was clearly protective of her.

“You’re not putting me anywhere. I’m going. End of discussion.” She stated, rather sternly. There was a time when she had been intimidated by him, but those days were clearly behind them.

James cursed something in Romanian, which had become a habit of his.

“That was rude.” she deadpanned; she clearly understood what he had said, considering that she had spent quite a few years of her immortal life in Romania.

“You are just as infuriating as Natasha. Fine. If you insist, let's get you ready. As pretty as that dress is, it’s not exactly stealth.” As gorgeous as you look in it, he’d wanted to say, but he decided to refrain from that.

“Honestly, I expected more from the famous Black Widow,” Steve Rogers mocked as he leaned against the wall. “But you really don’t have much fight in you at all. Do you?”

Natasha snorted indelicately. “I have only ever fought people I thought were a threat to me. And you, Rogers, are most definitely not.”

“We’ll see about that,” He marched forward dragging the chair she was strapped to across the floor towards the other end of the room, where a single window allowed in the first rays of daylight.

“A lovely view. Your method of intimidation needs work.”

His smile turned smug as he appraised her. “Taunt all you want. When daylight comes, you’re nothing more than a pile of ash. Just like the rest of your kind.”

Natasha held back a scoff. Little did he know. That light wasn’t going to do anything to her.

“You don’t look worried.”

“Maybe I know something you don’t.”

He placed his hands over hers on each arm of the chair, leaning in close. “Or maybe you think I’m as dumb as the other hunters you’ve come up against. Think again.”

Nat’s eyes went wide as the hunter slipped her daylight ring from her finger. Their existence was a well kept secret even among her own kind. She’d never met a hunter who knew about them.

“Not so mouthy now are you?”

Natasha swallowed the worry that was beginning to gnaw in her gut and offered him a saccharine smile. She needed to bide her time. “You’re going to regret this.”

“No, Miss Rushman. I really don’t think I will-”

“Think again,” James hissed as he placed a blade against Steve’s neck.

Y/N moved quickly, dragging Natasha away from the window before releasing her.

“Well, if it isn’t the man himself. James Buchanan Barnes, New York’s own godfather,” Steve greeted conversationally.

“You’ve been a thorn in my side for a while now, Rogers, give me one reason I shouldn’t kill you right now.” The vampire growled, tightening his grip on the blade.

“Because I'm more useful to you on your payroll.” The hunter stated, rather cockily.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh come on, you’re a smart man. I’m the best hunter there is. I’ve taken down more of your kind than I can count.” He boasted.

“That’s not saying much,” Y/N sneered.

Natasha hushed her with a warning look.

“You’re not really selling me on not killing you right now, pal.” James pressed the blade harder.

“Look, I’m not some fanatic. I know I’ll never kill every last one of you. But being a hunter is a thankless job. I figure if I work for you, I can get paid to kill vampires and whatever other monsters you want taken out. It’s a win win.” Steve explained, hoping that he could convince James.

“Or I keep my money. Kill you, and put your head on pike as a message to all those who would cross me.” James suggested, his eyes burning bright red as his fangs peeked through his lips.

Steve’s undoubtedly witty reply was cut off by a series of deafening howls.

“Rumlow?” Y/N asked and James nodded.

“What the hell is he doing all the way out here?” Natasha asked.

“They probably followed us here hoping to get a shot at killing us,” James explained, more annoyed at the interruption than anything.

“And why would they do that?” The red-head asked in confusion.

“Why don’t you ask your protege over there?”

“Y/N,” Natasha’s voice held a warning tone.

“He was rude. So I pinned him to the wall. By his throat,” she added innocently.

Steve barked out a laugh, which he regretted when the blade broke the skin.

“Is this what it was like dealing with me?” Natasha questioned.

The howling continued, moving ever closer.

“It is still what it’s like dealing with you,” James shot back, gesturing to the situation at hand.

Steve took the opportunity to wrestle out of the vampire’s hold, throwing his hands up in surrender. “Here, let’s make a deal. I’ll help with your werewolf problem. If I do a good job, you hire me. If I betray you, you can kill me.”

“Win win,” James mocked.

The wolves had surrounded the building and were clearly getting ready to launch an offensive. Steve returned the daylight ring and her weapons to Natasha before picking up two crossbows and two quivers of bolts. He offered them to James and Y/N. “Top floor has windows on all sides. You should be able to get off clean shots before they manage to climb the building.” He turned to Natasha. “You can come with me and we’ll take them on, hand to hand.”

“No way. I’m coming with you. Natasha, Y/N. Cover us.” James argued.

“You know these bolts won’t do anything to werewolves except piss them off right?” Y/N asked.

“These will do more than that,” Steve assured her.

Natasha plucked one from the quiver and examined the tip. “Silver plated. You really are smarter than the average hunter.”

“Told you.”

A grating voice cut off the interaction. “Come out, come out, Barnes. We’ll see whose luck is holding out tonight.”

James shared a look with both Natasha and Y/N before nodding once. They disappeared up the stairs, taking positions at opposite windows.

“So why did you let him catch you?” Y/N asked conversationally as she took aim at a hulking brute of a werewolf who’d posted himself on the hill behind the house.

“I was bored. And I thought he’d be good for the team.” Natasha responded with a shrug.

“Did you recruit him?” The younger vampire asked curiously.

“No, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t hoping for this.”

“I think you’re getting ahead of yourself.” Y/N pointed out. “James could still rip his throat out.”

“He won’t. James knows that he’s either good enough to catch me or I thought he was good enough to let him catch me.” The red-head clarified. “Either way…”

“He’ll give him a chance.” She concluded. “You really do always get your way don’t you.”

“Mhmm.”

Downstairs, James glared at the blonde. “Let’s go. I’m giving you this chance. But just know, Rogers. You make one move against me or them and I’ll make you wish I killed you.”

Steve smirked and snapped a mock salute. “Message received, sir.”

Rumlow managed to sneer at James for a whole three seconds before the look was wiped off his face by a right cross. “Oh you are going to pay for that.”

James did not pay for that.

Steve had slipped out the back of the building and was able to take out two of them while Natasha and Y/N picked off another four together. James walked away from Rumlow’s body, barely rumpled. Steve had tussled with another wolf and bore a few scratches but nothing too bad. James could tell from the smell that the blood on his shirt was not his. The vampire had to acknowledge that the fight would have been much harder without his silver plated weapons. Maybe Rogers would prove useful after all.

As he walked back towards the building he noticed Steve reach for something in his pocket. A revolver his mind recognized a moment too late. Steve managed to get the shot off before James could react. The bullet raced towards him and whizzed past his ear, directly into the werewolf about to charge him. The beast crumpled to the ground motionless.

“How?” James questioned.

“Silver bullets.” He replied.

“You had a gun that shot silver bullets and you gave us crossbows?” Y/N huffed, unimpressed.

“Guns make it too easy. Where’s the fun in that?” The hunter remarked with a rather snarky grin.

Natasha laughed, and Y/N shared a look with James.

“Welcome to the team, Rogers. Don’t forget, you take your orders from me.” James told him.

“Of course.” He eyed Nat who looked entirely too pleased with herself. “Who else would I take orders from? You won’t regret this, Bucky.”

“I already do,” he sighed.

#aj writes #sanguis sanguinis mei #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes series #vampire!bucky x reader #vampire!bucky barnes x reader #vampire au

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dr3amofagame · 3 years

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idk why but i imagined vegas 2.0 as two soccer moms (the politics bois) trying to outdo each other while their sons are dragged into it (green bois) in a rlly fvcked way. e.g.

maybe big q reconsidering dream's usefulness by saying sam's enough as protection and has other things to offer to the team as well. wilbur steps in by suggesting a duel between sam and dream then, to prove it then. maybe while it happens, wilbur whispers to quackity a list of what is still physically broken abt dream post prison (so many unhealed bones, barely healed muscle, he can barely stomach food so he had like 1 steak in the past few days, etc.) and of course, he mentions dream's most powerful asset, the revive book :)

-🐇

LMAOO

this is hilarious and also accurate as hell ,, thank you anon because the image of c!wilbur and c!quackity as PTA moms is completely sending me. this prompt (as most vt2 related things are) was really fun !! it also kinda ran away from me, which is why this ended up being almost 6k words instead of my usual 1-2k for asks, but i hope you enjoy it regardless :]

tws: implied torture/abuse, death, violence, blood, injuries, conditioning, dehumanization, panic attacks, emotional distress, trauma, unhealthy relationships (so many unhealthy relationships), smoking, dark contents, dark themes, vt2 au is always really dark so definitely proceed with caution !! dark portrayals of c!quackity, c!sam, c!wilbur, and c!dream

It starts, as many things do nowadays, with a board meeting - which seems to be as much of a sign as any that everything is going to go to shit. Board meetings for Quackity, much like Wilbur’s stupid group therapy sessions, are just a thinly veiled attempt for the two to fight for control of pretty much everything - ranging from the casino schedules to the laws still being written for Las Nevadas to what food to stock in the vending machines. As Sam is still sitting on his false throne of moral superiority and therefore less inclined to indulge himself in the same blatant corruption that characterizes their discussions, and Dream - more than anything - knows his place (which hardly gives him any position to wrangle for power among the likes of Wilbur and Quackity), the fights for control more or less remain restricted between the two. More often than not, they devolve into proving their superiority over the other by using their control of Dream (which naturally never means anything remotely good for him as a consequence) so when Quackity strolls over, all tight-lipped smiles and a cigarette held between clenched fingers, Dream really doesn’t feel anything other than dread.

Still, orders by Quackity are still orders - Dream knows this fact better than he knows that he’s alive and breathing, better than the fact that he’s out of the prison, better than he knows his own goddamn name - and Dream is far too well-trained to ever consider trying to rebel. So when the time comes - 7:30 pm, sharp - Dream is in his chair, spine straight and head alert like a goddamn dog, and he waits.

It doesn’t take long for the others to arrive. Sam comes over first, leveling him with a heavy, distrustful stare as he sits down in the chair across from Dream, the expression nearly enough for Dream to roll his eyes if it weren’t for the fear that rockets through him, still, at the sight of the Warden so close to him. Sam has made it more than clear from the very beginning that he has no trust at all for Dream, that if he had his way then Dream would be locked up for the rest of eternity in a labyrinth of blackstone and obsidian, forever guarded by his ever-present supervision. Dream feels his ears burning with heat as he dips his eyes low to the surface of the table, wanting no more than to curl up and hide under the scrutiny of the Warden’s glare.

Quackity enters next, throwing open the door of the conference room loud enough to make Dream jump out of his seat, looking at him with an upturned corner of his lip when he comes back to himself enough to notice. Dream stifles a shudder at his visible good mood, all-too-aware of what that usually meant for him in the cell, stiffening further with a growing ringing to his ears as Sam and Quackity talk and Quackity sweeps past his side to get to his seat at the head of the table, carelessly brushing his fingers along the back of Dream’s neck in a way that makes him freeze, stock-still, in his chair - feeling his fingertips ease themselves over the ridge present there from a thick band of scar tissue, a deep, jagged thing that had been carved from the blunter back edge of Quackity’s axe when he had lost his temper and let the thing slam against the back of his neck, hard enough that it probably would’ve paralyzed him completely if it weren’t for Sam’s use of almost a full chest of regens. Quackity remains over him for a few more seconds, leaning over his chair to talk to Sam as he runs a light, possessive hand over the topmost bumps of Dream’s spine, before settling over into his chair, watching him with a small smirk as he keeps a white-knuckled grip on the edge of the table.

Dream hates the prickling shame and terror that keeps his muscles tense as he stares at the table’s surface, still feeling the ghost of fingers tracing over skin and bone along the back of his neck, keeps his burning eyes trained on the surface of solid wood as he tries to steady his breaths. It’s all he can do to press down his flinch when Quackity, with a frustrated yell, slams his fist against the table a few minutes later, rage simmering underneath his words as he speaks.

“Where the hell is Wilbur?” His glare slides across the room, landing on Dream, making him shrink back in his seat, heart thudding in his ears. Quackity doesn’t stop staring at him even as he pulls a cigarette and lighter from his pants pocket, lighting it and bringing it to his lips and letting the silver-grey threads of smoke fill the room and press against the inside of Dream’s lungs. “It’s ten minutes til 8 - I don’t have time for this bullshit.”

Sam digs his fingers into his temples, already looking exhausted. “If you want, Q, we can always start without him and catch him up later. Depends on you.”

“No, then I’ll have to repeat myself and it’ll be pointless and ugh,” Quackity makes a vaguely frustrated noise as he finally turns his eyes over to Sam, making Dream’s shoulders shudder as he finally finds the air to take a breath, “We’ll just have to wait. Fucking idiot. I knew I shouldn’t have worked with any of these fuckers.”

In true Wilbur fashion, it isn’t until fifteen minutes later when the taller man finally makes an appearance, the entire time tense as hell as Quackity takes slow, steady drags of his cigarette and taps his fingers impatiently against the table’s surface. He offers one to Sam, who goes on to decline, making a short quip telling Quackity to watch his health for the future that promptly falls flat. Dream thinks he’s a fucking hypocrite, considering his whole deal with weednip or whatever Ant has on him, but doesn’t voice the thoughts as he sinks down in his chair, wishing more than anything to disappear. Against the fabric of his shirt, the right side of his chest itches, and he presses his palm against the place where he knows there is a small, irregular grid of pockmarked scars from when Quackity had taken smoke breaks in the middle of sessions.

“There you all are,” Wilbur smiles as he slides into the room, a covered metal tray held in his hands as he kicks the door closed and slides the tray onto the table with an awful screech. “I’m sorry for being late,” he continues, sounding not very sorry at all, “but I made some food to make up for it!”

He takes off the cover with a flourish; underneath, sunny yellow squares, nearly blindly bright, look up blankly under the conference room’s overly harsh lighting. They smell sugary and vaguely sour, stinging his nose slightly, and seem to be coated with a fine dusting of powdered sugar.

“Lemon bars!” Wilbur grins, just left of sincere, “they’re gluten-free!”

“God,” Quackity laughs, sounding slightly incredulous, shaking his head. Dream’s gut rolls at the sound, Wilbur’s smile growing wider, even more dangerous, at the tone. It’s familiar, the way the two of them challenge each other, and in a rare moment of solidarity Dream watches from the corner of his eyes as Sam’s shoulders hunch as well. The two of them always bring trouble, even normally, but when they’re in this mood? Actively challenging each other, toeing the line, trying to find the limits and push them just because they can? Dream shivers in his seat, grip tightening on his own arms; this, he knows, is when they are at their most dangerous - and he has the scars to prove it.

“Gluten-free, huh? Really leaning into the whole ‘PTA mom’ schtick today, aren’t you?” Quackity smirks. “Should I call you Linda from now on?”

“I don’t know, Quackity, I was just thinking that I would make a little healthier treat for all of us, you know?” Wilbur brushes off the remark easily, taking a seat and immediately kicking his feet up onto the table. “If you want it, of course. I would hardly want to get in the way of your professionalism, Mr. President- do you have one of those? Or are you going for a more authoritarian approach”

“Fighting words from someone who rigged an election as President,” Quackity drawls, “and couldn’t even win it, might I add. “

“Oh, Big Q! You fail to understand, I wasn’t criticizing you at all,” Wilbur smiles, jagged, “we agree, I believe, on the failures of democracy. Unless you’ve forgotten our conversation, already?”

“Of course not,” Quackity snorts, and Dream doesn’t miss how his gaze shifts towards the side of the room, landing on Dream and making him curl further in his seat. “I’ll save you from me trying to pick your brain, this time, but don’t worry. You make yourself…rather hard to forget.”

Wilbur claps, seeming satisfied with this round of verbal sparring, and the sharp sound of his hands meeting together nearly has Dream jumping in his seat. “So! Lemon bars- does anyone want any?”

Dream is keenly aware of two pairs of eyes landing on him, Wilbur and Quackity watching for his reaction with bated breath and narrowed eyes. Panic crawls up his throat; he knows the purpose behind their stares, knows that he’s once again become the object of one of their power struggles. Quackity’s orders rattle in his brain, his thoughts a messy jumble of pins all knocked loose from his time in the prison, hopelessly unorganized and running on little more than instinct. Wilbur is expecting him to eat, to give into his sweet pastries and sweeter words; the lesson not to eat, move, think without permission, hammered into him between chunks of potato and battered ribs and blood gathered in the crevices of his skin, keeps his hands at his sides instead of reaching towards the pastries still set in the middle of the table. Even with Quackity at the opposite side of the room, Dream swears that he can still feel the pressure of a hand against the back of his neck, pressing just hard enough to make itself known from the feeling of fingers pressing into either side of his spine - he doesn’t even quite feel himself shaking his head, only really realizes what he’s done when he hears Wilbur sigh in frustration and meets Quackity’s satisfied gaze.

“I’ll take one,” Sam says, sounding exhausted, eyes flitting from Wilbur to Quackity to Dream with an increasingly long-suffering expression. His face twists around the first bite of the bright yellow pastry, nose scrunching as he puts it down, missing a half-moon bite along one corner, and drags his fingers over the table to ease off the remnants of powdered sugar. Wilbur watches him, seeming amused, and Quackity rolls his eyes as he pulls a binder out of his inventory.

“Now that everyone is finally here,” he starts, directing a particularly dead-eyed stare at Wilbur, “we can finally get on with the meeting. I was thinking we could go over the budget, today, if that’s alright with the rest of you.”

It sounds innocent enough - which is the first sign of many that this meeting, whatever it is, is going to be anything but pleasant. The grin that steadily grows on Quackity’s face does nothing to assuage Dream’s anxieties, only pushing them higher as the man flips open the binder and messes with it for a few seconds longer before seemingly finding what he’s looking for.

“I think we all know that until Sam finishes with the bank, funds around here are going to be a little bit tight,” Quackity begins, waiting for all of them to nod before continuing, “And we really need to save wherever we can. I recounted the budget yesterday, just to make sure that we’re all on track, and- well,”

Quackity points to a circled series of red numbers that Dream doesn’t understand but can assume mean little good for them. Sam makes a low, considering noise, sounding strangely concerned, and Wilbur actually seems to close his mouth and lean forward in curiosity.

“We have a deficit,” Quackity continues when they’ve all settled back into their seats, “and we’ll get it all back once Sam gets the bank up and running, but for now our funds are...limited. I don’t want to stop progress on Las Nevadas, of course, we really don’t have time to waste. So I thought we’d have a meeting today to discuss the budget and eliminate any expenses that we might find-” Quackity gestures with a smooth twirl of his wrist, “expendable.”

Sam hums. “Do you have anything in mind, Quackity?”

“A few,” Quackity flips to the next page, where he’s seemingly jotted a few notes - different things that they can put off for the moment, it seems, and the money that would be saved for forgoing them temporarily. Dream reads down the list quickly, stilling at the last item.

“Quackity,” Sam sounds twenty times more tired already when he speaks, tone flat and a little irritated. “Why is Dream on the list?”

Quackity shrugs. “Hear me out, now- most of our money right now is going into living expenses for the four of us. Having more people here, until everything becomes more sustainable, is a huge drain on our resources. I’m just listing all our options.”

“So what do you want to do?” Sam huffs. “Throw him back in Pandora?”

Quackity shakes his head.

“Wilbur does have the revive book knowledge, you know,” he says, and Dream’s blood runs cold. He can’t run, can’t move; he’s stuck in his seat, heart hammering faster in his chest as the other three hardly spare him a second glance. Sam purses his lips, a considering expression flashing over his face, as Quackity presses on. “Seriously- listen, Sam. There’s nothing that Dream is really offering, at the moment, that the rest of us can’t handle. Wilbur has the revive book, you can act as security to take out any threats - really, we shouldn’t be pissing anyone off until everything officially opens, and we can always retrieve him then when we need him. He’ll be out of the way, which means he won’t be able to start any fucking trouble,” Quackity laughs, short. “It’s a win-win.”

“I don’t know, Quackity,” Sam says, the words slow, but the tone is familiar enough for Dream to know that he’s already mostly given in. “It’s a risk, isn’t it? None of us but Dream have really used the revive book, before.”

Wilbur doesn’t even look at him when he chirps a reply. “That won’t be a problem, Sam. I’d be very happy to test it out, if you want.”

Quackity leans forward, and Dream nearly gags; he’s preening in his spot, eyes dancing as he smiles up at Sam. “Anything else you can think of?”

“I don’t know,” Sam trails off, and Dream looks down, only barely staving off the panic squeezing around his lungs and tears burning in his eyes. It’s nothing he hasn’t envisioned before, nothing he hasn’t expected, but this- he feels like such a fool, for hoping- “If we get ambushed, Q, I really don’t know if gear is going to be enough. You remember what Technoblade did last time.”

Quackity huffs, sounding annoyed, but nods to concede the point. “That is...fair. But then again, we don’t exactly know how good Dream is either, do we?” Quackity finally leans over to look at him, and Dream feels himself choke on his own breath at the dangerous gleam in Quackity’s eyes, all-too-familiar in their scrutiny, looking at him the same way they had pinned him to the floor of his obsidian-walled hell. “Anything to say, Dream?”

“I-” The words shake on Dream’s tongue, and he only barely manages a dry swallow as he struggles through the rest of his sentence, shrinking back from the heavy weight of three pairs of eyes fixed on his own, “I can be useful, s-” he only barely manages to bite down the word, a new wave of shame making him shrink back further past the fear. Quackity’s lip twitches upward.

Wilbur twirls a pencil in one hand, looking spectacularly bored; Dream’s chest shrieks with a harsh spike of envy at his composure. “How about you prove it?” His eyes are laughing when Dream gets a good look at them, amusement clear at the idea. “Put on a show?”

Quackity rolls his eyes. “What do you have in mind?”

“You want to know if Sam can serve as an adequate replacement for Dream’s combat prowess, no?” Wilbur leans back in his chair as he talks, still focused on spinning his pencil over and between his fingers, “Why doesn’t he prove it? Let them duel, one on one. If Sam kills Dream, then you’re right, we’re done, and we can all move on with our days. If Dream wins, then he’s proved his worth, and we can figure out the rest of the budget after. What do you think?”

Quackity’s lips press together, seeming displeased, but he doesn’t say anything in return. Sam, ever practical, drums his fingers against the table.

“That sounds...fair,” Sam purses his lips. “How would we judge this? Equal gear?”

Wilbur only smiles wider as he shakes his head. “I was thinking we would make it a little more accurate to reality, if Dream’s services were truly to be needed. Sam, you can keep your own gear, and Dream should use his own. I guess on your end we can fight until you yield, but for him…”

The words are left unsaid, but Dream flexes his hands underneath the table as he catches onto the implications. For him, it’s a fight to the death.

Sam shrugs. “That works for me. Dream?”

He doesn’t really have a choice, does he? “Okay.”

“Wonderful!” Wilbur claps, bringing his hands to his chest and looking thoroughly thrilled at the prospects of the potential duel. Quackity glares at Dream but doesn’t say a word, and Dream hunches into himself, nearly folding himself in half as he ducks as far as he can down his seat. Sam pulls out his sword, flipping it around and testing its weight, and Dream doesn’t quite manage to suppress his full-body shudder at the sight. “Let’s get started, then.”

They move out in a roughly single-file line out of the conference room, Wilbur making idle chatter as Sam continues to examine his armor and weapons as they walk. They settle into an open space in the still-unfinished casino that Wilbur looks around for a second and then deems appropriate for the duel. Sam sets down an enderchest to gather his necessary materials, and Dream settles in front of it himself afterwards, shifting the lid open with shaking hands as he tries to work through his inventory.

He’s started the process of building up his gear again in his spare time, but he’s not had the time to finish gathering netherite for both himself and Wilbur - Wilbur meets his eyes with a sly wink before equipping the set of netherite armor that Dream had crafted for him, and Dream stifles a desperate snarl. He doesn’t even have the other set (still a gleaming blue from unplated diamond) enchanted, outside of a Sharpness book that he had slapped onto a diamond axe. He gathers the rest of his supplies with careful hands, trying to press down the increasing trembling of his limbs from his growing panic, flexing his arm around the weight of a shield once again and pocketing steaks and golden apples from his hoard.

He has no potions, no good weapons, not even a properly enchanted crossbow to offer the slightest bit of an advantage. Dream lets his eyes flick up to where Sam is waiting at the opposite side of the room, standing up straight with enchanted netherite covering him head to toe and a familiar axe slung over his shoulder, and tries not to break down right then and there. It’s too familiar, too reminiscent of obsidian walls and netherite pressed against his ribs and demands that he behave, and despite the glittering white walls and high ceiling and cold night air he swears he could fall just from the memories alone. Drowning within them, he distantly remembers a duel long-past under a bright blue sky, Sam laughing under a swirl of potion particles on the grass surrounding the Community House lake, and wonders which of the memories hurt more.

“Dream,” Quackity snaps, and Dream stills in his place, slamming the lid of the enderchest shut as his heart hammers in his ears. Quackity watches him intently, expression twisted in disappointment, and some beaten, instinctual part of him whines uncomfortably at the sight. “Hurry up.”

Dream nods, because of course he does, and stands with the results of his mad scramble to gather anything that could be useful in the duel to come - a few gapples, steaks, a sword, a bow lacking any enchantments at all, and an axe and shield. It’s a rather pathetic ensemble, but it’ll be enough. It’ll have to be enough.

“Ready?” Wilbur takes place as referee, standing off to the side with a smile on his face as Dream stands across from Sam, holding his axe with a white-knuckled grip as the Warden - expression unreadable through the shadow of his helmet and the mask fixed over his face - squares his own stance in preparation for the fight. “Good luck.”

Wilbur’s arm cuts a line in the air as it drops, and the Warden explodes into action, lumbering forward as he raises his axe over his head to bring it down. Dream tumbles in the opposite direction, letting a long held back, battle-trained part of himself take over as he rights himself back on his feet, swinging up his shield to catch on the downward arc of Warden’s Hammer, frantically pressing back the dregs of fear and panic staining the corners of his vision black as he moves.

The Warden hits slow but hits hard, too big and bulky to really avoid any quick attacks but too well-armored to be easily defeated despite that. He’s a classic tank - Dream skitters out of the way of another hit as he reaches for memories of him that won’t leave him gasping, information on his opponent that didn’t come from within the prison and all its horrors.

He’d dueled Sam before, he knows; it wasn’t the same, as Sam was trying out a Turtle Master potion and intent on proving the superiority of Resistance IV against Dream’s own combat prowess. He’d failed, then; Dream forcefully steadies another breath as the sound of the Warden’s armor clanking against the ground almost sends him into another panic. He’ll have to fail now, too.

Fortunately, he’s been allowed food to heal - without it, this fight would probably be near impossible. As it is, even without the potion, the principles of this duel are the same. Dream swings up his axe, catching the blade hurling towards him in the crook where the head meets the handle just long enough to pull himself out of the way and let the Warden’s weapon fall uselessly to the ground. Dream raises his head in the second he has, tracing his gaze over the Warden’s armor in search for places to exploit. Even the best defenses aren’t perfect. All he needs to do is survive for long enough to chip through it.

A fumbled dodge leads to the Warden’s blade skimming past his skin, carving a thin red line in the skin of his upper arm. He hisses as he dives out of the way of the next blow, the twinges of pain from the area almost enough to make his vision unfocused, almost enough to send him tumbling head-first into the part of him screaming submit submit submit if you don’t fight back they won’t hurt you more. He grits his teeth as he swings forward, knocking away the axe coming towards him with his axe long enough to push forward with his shield and knock the Warden further away from him. He can’t afford to flinch, can’t afford to let fear take control of his movements as it has so many times before. The keening desperation running through his veins is familiar, but desperation can fall both ways, can make him fight or flee - and there’s only one real option that will end with him getting out of this alive.

Dream stands and forces himself to meet the next swing hurling towards him dead on, raising his shield to catch the blade and pushing forward past the shuddering shock in his left arm from the force of the blow. His own blade arcs downward in the next second, scraping against the Warden’s netherite armor with a metallic screech. He manages to get in two more blows before the Warden’s next attack has him backing away to dodge, shaking off his arm to get his shield ready for the next attack.

He has to stay on the offensive, keep pressing the Warden back and forcing the other to play defense. He’s still weak from the prison; in terms of brute strength, he’s no match from the Warden, not after months of starvation and torture stuck in a box with hardly enough room to stretch his legs. All he really has going for him is his speed and his experience, neither of which will do him any good if he teeters over the edge into the panic attack he’s been trying to hold off the entire time. Dream runs forward, not giving himself more than a second to breathe as he rushes the Warden once again, switching weapons mid-leap to a sword that will allow for quicker blows in the time that he has the Warden off-balance enough to attack freely. He scores a series of glancing hits on the Warden, none doing any major damage but altogether enough to make the Warden back off, wary, with a gasping note of pain, and Dream shakes his head to force himself to focus before running forward once more.

The Warden pulls out a shield of his own, and Dream switches back to the axe and swings it squarely into the shield, then twists himself around to the Warden’s unprotected back to catch him with another heavy blow that leaves him reeling in the second he takes to recover. He’s clearly untrained with a shield, his left arm clumsy as he tries to block Dream’s blows, and Dream uses the opportunity to score another few solid hits to the Warden’s sides and legs, getting a good blow with the blunt side of his axe into the back of one of his knees, leaving the warden limping when he pulls away.

Dream has hardly come off unscathed in the fight - he wheezes out a heavy breath through his teeth, chest aching from a hit that had broken one of his ribs. The exertion and anxiety still pressing at the back of his throat has left him light-headed, and he bites through a crisp, almost sickeningly-sweet bite of golden apple to close a wound bleeding sluggishly on his side. Neither of them can go on for much longer; the Warden’s grip tightens on his axe, and Dream swallows past the shudder that arises from the sight.

Once again, he raises his axe and runs into the fight, parrying the coming strike and twisting out of the way to strike at a joint of the Warden’s armor with the flat of his blade. The Warden’s arm raises, and Dream bites off a yelp of alarm as the handle of his axe is levied against his unarmored side, knocking him off-balance and falling back onto the ground, too disoriented to catch himself. He lands on his left arm, and his vision goes white as it gives out with a sharp crack.

Through half-lidded eyes, he can make out the Warden stalking closer, axe raised and ready to end the fight - end him. His chest shakes in a pathetic wheeze for breath, arm completely useless from where it’s screaming in pain underneath him. He needs to move, now, if he wants to survive this - fear swells forward, unhindered as his focus is broken by the vice grip the pain has on his skull - he’s shaking, now, the terror so familiar he can taste it - salt and iron and sticky-sweet health potions against the backs of his teeth-

The Warden raises his axe.

No.

Dream raises his sword just in time to catch the blade hurtling towards his neck, uses his foot to kick against the Warden’s grip on the handle. The axe clatters out of his grip, falls forward - Dream rolls away, breathing harshly around the pain threatening to make him black out. Unarmed, the Warden takes a second to grab a sword from his inventory while Dream forces himself back to his feet and kicks the axe as far away as he can.

He’s so flooded with panic he’s choking on it, broken arm hanging limply by his side as he charges forward, sword in hand. He won’t die, not after all this time, not after all this effort - he throws himself at the Warden, batters him with jabs and thrusts that force the other man to back away and parry, snarling wordlessly as he brings his sword to slash forward again and again.

His attacks are messy, uncoordinated, but the Warden is tired and disoriented from the loss of his weapon - he flinches back as Dream hits him in the jaw with the hilt of his sword, only barely matching his blows as he continues to push forward. Any hits that he scores on Dream are brushed off with a growl of pain and his sword moving even faster in his fury, and it’s not very long at all before he’s knocked flat on his back with a sweep of Dream’s legs, gasping for air as Dream pins him to the ground with a blade pressed against his neck.

Dream meets his wide eyes with his own, lips curled back in the same desperate rage that had moved him forwards despite the black creeping into the corners of his eyes and the lancing pain tying its strings around his neck and leaving him gasping for air. The sword in his hand bears threads of blood along its edge, pressing deeper into the Warden’s neck and drawing crimson up to the surface - a thousand fearful, angry thoughts swell up to the front of his skull in a singular, white-hot point. It is the Warden underneath his feet, at the end of his blade, cowering beneath him as he had cowered before - the Warden, the cause of his pain, the reason behind the ache in his gut and the stinging pains in his limbs and the piercing agony from his arm and chest. It would be so easy to push just a little harder, to press the sweet blue blade down and down and down until the Warden is gone and the Warden is dead and the Warden can’t hurt him anymore-

“Down, Dream,” Quackity snaps, and Dream backs off immediately, losing his grip on his sword as the command has him dragged back by the neck like an invisible leash and collar pulling him away. Sam settles back in a sitting position, still wide-eyed, wincing as he moves and bringing a golden apple from his inventory to heal the worst of his injuries.

“Eat,” Quackity commands again, and Dream only barely manages a stiff nod through the nausea and dread curling around his chest as the adrenaline begins to fade away, fumbling with the golden apple he finds in his inventory and nibbling at it to tide off the worst of the pain.

“Bravo, bravo,” Wilbur grins from the side, clapping slowly as he walks back into the middle of their makeshift arena - he’s taken his armor off again, but it doesn’t make the sight of him any less intimidating. “What a show! We should do that more often, what do you think?”

No, Dream almost screams, I can’t- but Quackity beats him to it, glaring at Wilbur with an incredulous expression.

“We don’t have the time to waste on your fucking ‘shows,’” he snaps, crossing his arms as he swings his gaze over to Dream. “Fine. You’ve proved yourself. Now hurry up - we have to clean up all of this shit and then figure out the rest of this fucking budget.”

Dream pulls himself to his feet, watching from the side as the Warden does the same.

“Make yourself useful and clean off all your fucking blood from the floor,” Quackity meets his eyes with a vicious glare, waiting until he stammers his way through an agreement before turning to the other two in the room. “Sam, Wilbur - with me. I want to get this money issue figured out tonight.”

Dream watches them go as he shuffles to the cleaning closet, feeling a shudder crawl up his spine once they’re out of sight. Make yourself useful, Quackity’s voice rings in his head, and Dream bites his lip, only stopping when he accidentally breaks through skin and the taste of blood floods his tongue.

He has a feeling that those words are going to haunt him for a long, long time.

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allwaswell16 · 3 years

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This is a fic rec of One Direction fic writers who both appreciate positive, long comments and enjoy replying back to these comments! This was made in honor of an enthusiastic friend who had a few bad experiences commenting in our fandom and receiving less than kind replies. Instead of just fuming about it, I decided to do something about it. I knew that most writers would absolutely love to receive comments like the ones she leaves, so I made a post asking for writers who fit this to recommend their fics to us. And wow did you all come through for us!

Below the cut are 54 writers, each with one of their fics to recommend to us! But please be sure to check out all their other fics as well! I’ll put the fics in order of wordcount and I’ll list pairing, rating, and wordcount along with the summaries.

(Please note that there are really lovely writers out there who also very much appreciate each and every one of their comments, but are too overwhelmed or anxious to reply. I am not at all saying that writers who don’t reply are unappreciative!)

Love After the End of the World by @mercurial-madhouse / writing_practice [Louis/Harry, E, 162k]

“Wait. Just so I’m clear in me fucking noggin,” Niall says. “An international worldwide takeover is well under way and the only thing standing between having hot showers and a second end of the world is us five fuckers?”

-----

Society shattered when all electricity suddenly cut off across the globe, plunging the world into darkness. Now, Prometheus Industries is the sole remaining supply of power, a saving grace to those who survived Lights Out. As fugitives in no-man’s land struggling to break into Prometheus HQ, death lurks around every corner for Louis and Zayn. Things get complicated when a routine recon falls apart and Louis collides with Harry and his mates Niall and Liam, survivors with their own agenda.

When staying alive is already a constant battle, the deadliest weakness is to be in love. For Harry and Louis, finding each other sits on top of the endless list of What Else Could Go Wrong.

Hold You Now by @solvetheminourdreams [Louis/Harry, M, 131k]

The string within Harry's own sweatpants is now dangling outside of his pocket, stretched so far out that the seams of his pants have tightened. His eyes remain hyper focused on Louis, how oblivious he is—scrolling through his phone without a care in the world, while Harry feels his tilt on its axis.

Three years ago, Harry Styles said goodbye to communications consultancy firm McQuiston Worldwide, leaving a life of travel and agency PR behind. When he accompanies his best friend to a family wedding across the Atlantic, he'll be forced to reopen old wounds and face his past—one that no one wants to hash out, but may just have to.

forever is in your eyes by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed / we_are_the_same [Louis/Harry, M, 125k]

Harry looks fragile in the moonlight, and Louis stands there, pondering, not even sure what it is that he’s thinking of. It’s all just noise in his head, a mix of melancholy and desire, of longing for something that he doesn’t even have a name for.

He wants-

He wants love. He wants to be held and cherished and have a home. Not just a place to lay his head down at night. He wants to be loved the way that Louis had loved creating Harry. He wants his perfect man, but he wants him to be real. He wants Harry to be real-

His lips press against marble, against something cold and unforgiving, and it’s not until his hand comes up to rest against a sculpted neck that his eyes fly open and he stumbles backwards, nearly falling off the stepladder that he’d stood on.

“Jesus Christ.” He whispers, shaking his head and resisting the urge to brush the back of his hand against his lips, erase evidence that isn’t even visible to the naked eye. Harry stands there, as though nothing’s changed, and of course he does, because he’s a statue.

A statue that Louis has just kissed.

don’t want to fight you by @lt2soon / starryharry [Louis/Harry, M, 124k]

Louis hates that it’s familiar. He hates that sparring Harry is familiar because they train together. He hates that he even has to spar Harry at all, because Harry is good.

Louis wonders what his life would be like if him and Harry didn’t hate each other. He can’t picture it, really. The incessant bickering that often turns into real arguing, the nasty looks, the eye rolls, the middle fingers. It all feels very necessary at this point.

Or, the one where two fighters can also be lovers because routines are never permanent.

Mine Would Be You by @crinkle-eyed-boo [Louis/Harry, E, 114k]

Louis blinks his eyes open, his eyelids fluttering as the room swims around him. He takes several gulps of beer once he confirms that he’s definitely not hallucinating, that the very first portrait Harry Styles ever painted of him is hanging on that wall.

Louis stares at the wall, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he realizes that there’s not just one painting of him, there’s five, the portraits lined up like they’re some sort of storyboard depicting the rise and fall of his deepest love. His greatest heartache. A pain that cut him so deep that he left the fucking country, severing all ties with his life in New York, now suddenly surrounding him as if he’d never left.

Fucking shit motherfucker fuck.

Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn't intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?

promise your whispers are mine by @lightwoodsmagic / lightswoodmagic [Louis/Harry, E, 94k]

"Where did I say it’s been easy for you, or,” he paused, staring at Harry’s lowered head and willing him to look up, “where have you ever gotten the idea that it’s been easy for me either?” When a few beats had passed and Louis was sure the conversation was done, Harry looked up, straight into Louis’ eyes like he was trying to physically pin him in place. “Our situations are completely different and you know it, please stop trying to - .” “Then let me help you fix it, Harry,” Louis interrupted, desperate to reach out and cover his hand with one of his own. “Let me help, please.”

Harry’s the head chef at Azoff’s Catering, and he loves his job; the opportunity has always been more than he could dream of and he’s proud of the food he creates. Until he meets Louis, an event coordinator rising through the ranks with his own company, and who reminds him of the dreams he once had for his own career. While their easy friendship initially thrives in an industry known for chaos and betrayal, they soon discover they both have their secrets, and maybe it’s too late for either of them to try to find happiness outside of their work. Especially when they realise that their happiness might rely on each other.

Playin’ It Safe and Breakin’ The Rules by @local-troubled-writer / local_troubled _writer [Louis/Harry, M, 90k]

In his life, Louis Tomlinson set out to do three things: find a way to make art that he loves, make his mum proud, and have as much fun as he could reasonably fit into one lifetime.

“Hello?” Harry’s deep voice calls.

“Hi,” Louis pops his head out of his doorway, motioning Harry back. “Louis,” he holds his hand out for Harry to shake and a small grin takes over the popstar’s face. He’s taller than he seems in photographs, but his smile is just the same as the ones that used to wallpaper his sisters’ walls.

“Harry.” He seems to have just gotten off stage, still sweating in a pair of skin-tight black jeans but a soft-looking blue vest. A beige headscarf holds his long curls off his face and he has all the easy confidence of a world-famous pop sensation, but still slouches in a way that isn't unfamiliar to Louis’ own posture.

“Yeah, I know who you are, popstar.” Louis teases, pulling his hand away and jabbing his thumb over his shoulder. “Shall we?”

or the One Where Maybe this Fake Relationship Gets a Little Too Real.

Consequences by @allwaswell16 [Louis/Harry, E, 78k]

Two years ago Harry let his powerful family come between him and the love of his life, something he deeply regrets. Louis has tried to move on from their devastating break up. Sometimes, he even thinks he has. It only takes one moment to freeze them back in time.

An amnesia au

The Sound The Leaves Make In The Heat Of The August Sun by @sleepwalk-living / anderscones [Louis/Harry, T, 76k]

Louis is an elf who lives in the Kingdom’s forest, as far away from the pompous Castle Court as he can get while staying within city limits. He’s a thief out of necessity and is happy enough to steal from the rich when they’re not looking. He notices something mysteriously dangerous happening in his forest one morning and begs for an investigation from the Court, who of course tells him he’s seeing things.

Intro a shamed knight, a runaway prince, a blacksmith, and a mage with fae blood who figure something is better than nothing. The King is all too happy to make criminals out of them and run them thinner than they already are just to prove a point to his son. With the combined powers of Captain Pla- One Direction, they figure it out.

adjudication by @bottomlinsons [Louis/Harry, T, 75k]

Harry's been engaged to Princess Charlotte of Ryde for as long as he can remember. He's come to know her, to love her, through the letters she's sent him over the past three years.

But when the wedding finally arrives, Harry quickly learns that nothing is as it seems. With his crown and country at stake, Harry must decide who to trust in this strange new land. And the sly Crown Prince of Ryde doesn't seem inclined to make things easy.

The Ground Below is Above My Feet by @zanniscaramouche / zanni_scaramouche [Louis/Harry, E, 63k]

“-ouis, are you awake?”

“M’ff,” Louis manages. Slowly he remembers where he is. Who he is. His nerve endings take stock of his body, the soft sheets twisted around his legs and the warm rush of breath on his face. Harry.

“You were sleeping like the dead,” Harry muses, calloused fingers delicately brushing through Louis’ fringe. “Could barely tell if you were breathing.”

Louis' heart stutters, his throat working hard to swallow the lump of ugly truth. Blinks until Harry’s bright eyes come into focus across the pillow.

He holds back the obvious joke.

Plant New Seeds in the Melody by @vintageumbroshirt / 28sunflowers [Harry/Louis, E, 58k]

After losing his husband in a tragic car accident, the last thing Louis needs is to keep running into popstar Harry Styles, who David was quite fond of.

Obviously, that’s exactly what keeps happening.

But as their unlikely friendship blossoms, Louis realizes that, maybe, having Harry in his life was the only good thing that came out of his adverse circumstances. Harry could be just the right person to help Louis find trust and intimacy in someone new.

Live a Thousand Lifetimes by @laynefaire / Layne Faire [Zayn/Liam, E, 57k]

It’s 2025.

After secretly writing and producing their first album in ten years, One Direction is weeks away from releasing their first new single and announcing a world tour.

With the whirlwind about to begin again, Liam re-evaluates the last ten years - the fame, the money, the people who changed his life forever - and the person who walked away.

just a flicker in the dark by @falsegoodnight [Harry/Louis, E, 57k]

Harry Styles is his case partner. High and mighty, annoyingly smug Harry Styles who’s known him for years and has fucking seen him naked for fuck’s sake.

He glances at Venus who’s blinking up at him with curious eyes, no doubt sensing the agitation sparking in his magic.

“This is not happening,” Louis says loudly. “This is not fucking happening. I am going to kill Liam, oh my god.” He doesn’t even know if Liam is responsible for this but it feels like something he’d do to drive Louis absolutely insane - exes don’t just show up to your assigned haunted house out of nowhere. “Fucking fuck!”

He nearly jumps when Harry knocks again, his muffled voice carrying through the wood. “I can hear you, you know,” he drawls, sounding frustratingly amused.

Louis exhales, resisting the urge to scream.

Or, Louis is a struggling witch desperate to prove himself after yet another magic disaster and finds a calling in the haunted house of client Niall Horan. Things get more complicated when he’s assigned a case partner: acclaimed medium and ex-boyfriend, Harry Styles.

I'm On the Hunt Now (I'm After You) by @afangirlfantasy [Louis/Harry, M, 56k]

Omegas haven’t been able to shift into their wolves for two hundred years. That is, until Louis Tomlinson changes everything.

Or...an AU where Alpha Harry and Omega Louis have a lot more than falling in love to deal with after The Mating Ceremony.

That Smile and That Midnight Laugh by @uhoh-but-yeah-alright / yeah_alright [Louis/Harry, T, 50k]

Harry’s never noticed how lovely Louis really is. Maybe it’s just that she’s usually so guarded – a little tense, a little irritated, a little put out. At least when she’s at school, and also usually when she’s around Nick, which are the only times Harry has really seen her. Until tonight. Tonight Harry’s seen her with her guard completely down. Too busy laughing and enjoying herself to remember to be prickly, maybe. She seems different.

It feels different.

A Ferris Bueller's Day Off AU that picks up right where the movie leaves off, and imagines what might happen if Ferris' girlfriend and sister become friends. And maybe something more, too.

Baby, Won’t You Look My Way? by @peachbootylouis / PeachBootyLou [Louis/Harry, E, 50k]

Louis tiptoed to the door and opened it, looking over his shoulder for a moment. Harry looked absolutely gorgeous, almost enough to make him strip back down and give it another go. But that wasn’t who Louis was. So he sighed and stepped outside, leaving back to his flat. And for the first time in years, he felt alive.

Or the where Louis’ routine centered life runs like clockwork until a chance hook up throws a wrench named Harry into it all. But as it may turn out a change in plans could be what Louis has needed all along.

dirty laundry looks good on you by @tomlinvelvetfics / tomlinvelvet [Louis/Harry, E, 50k]

When Louis Tomlinson finds his clothes lying in a sad soapy mess on top of the washing machine in which they are supposed to be, he acts upon his anger and retaliates. What he doesn’t expect is having to deal with a six-feet tall, curly-haired and dimpled man in return, who seems to arouse confusing feelings within him and to make his life take an unexpected turn for the better (or worse?).

OR; the utility room is a great place to fall in love.

Passing By by @larryyouknow / Larry_you_know [Louis/Harry, E, 48k]

Sometimes, people are in each other's lives just for the briefest of moments. They meet and then go their separate ways because being vulnerable is scary and it might be easier to not let anybody else in. But some people aren’t meant to be just passing by. Maybe when they open their eyes, they can learn things about themselves they haven’t known before. If they let their hearts speak they will find a way to be together.

Or the one where Harry doesn't even know he's into guys until he meets Louis on a boat trip. There's something more to their friendship but it ain't gonna be smooth sailing.

i kiss you (across hundreds of separating years) by @milkcurls / loveroflou [Louis/Harry, M, 44k]

He reminds Louis of the day he met him, the first day of Harry’s first year and Louis’ second, when he stood on wobbly legs beside Zayn, his cheeks flushed and hair parted to the side and tucked neatly behind his ear. He’s all dainty and soft – he’s pretty, Louis can admit that.

He’s also a rich frat boy who fucks every omega that will throw themselves at him – and they all do – so instead of pretending to be a precious little doll Louis thinks he should spend more time learning how to be a decent human being.

or, the stars and two amused boys are playing cupid, and there are one too many coded love letters and a duck plushie that smells like home

don’t want no other shade of blue by @louisisworthit / padfootyoudog [Louis/Harry, E, 43k]

“I know you’re putting on an act,” says Harry after a moment, and Louis scowls when he realises the prince is actually amused.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” says Louis.

“All I’ve heard over the past couple of years are rumours of Prince Louis’ kindness, and generosity, and oh, he’s so handsome I can barely pour his tea without shaking!” says Harry, putting on a silly, high-pitched voice for the last bit. Louis’ scowl deepens. “I would already know if you were just another selfish, bratty omega prince. You can’t fool me, darling, but I admire your efforts.”

“As you said,” Louis grits out, “those are only rumours. I assure you, I’m a terrible person.”

prompt 339: it was foretold that Alpha Prince Harry would be mated to a beautiful male omega with eyes that could rival the stone amethyst, but Omega Prince Louis refuses to believe it.

A Thousand More by @travelingwinchester / Ot5aresoulmates [Louis/Harry, NR, 42k]

Harry wakes up one morning during the separation of April 2015 missing Louis fiercely. He wonders if they had never been on the X-Factor would they have met. Cue the weirdest "dream" he's ever had in which lessons about the course of true love are learned.

fondre ton absence by @scrunchyharry [Louis/Harry, T, 41k]

Harry had never really given much thought to the future. He preferred to let life steer him forward and to follow in the footsteps of Louis, his best friend from as far as his memory went, his lover, his everything. Louis knew better than he did what was good for him.

It changed drastically when Louis was ripped away from him, drafted and sent to the front to fight in a war that Harry had always been sure would never reach him. Too young and too sickly to follow, Harry was left on his own for the first time in his life.

When he thought things could not possibly get worse, Louis went missing at the Somme and was declared dead. While everyone buried and mourned him, Harry never moved on. If Louis were dead, he was sure that he would know it. Their lives were too entwined, he would know if half of his heart had died.

Determined to find Louis, Harry did everything he could in his quest to be reunited with him, except prepare for the state Louis might be in.

He did not prepare for the harsh truth he would have to face: was love possible without memories?

I’ve Been Hoping You’d Be Somewhere Better Than This by @runaway-train-works / runaway _train [Harry/Louis, E, 40k]

“Does she know who it is then, from the New York office?” Louis enquires.

“Yeah, some guy Henry? Henry Styles I think she said?"

“Harry.”

“What?"

“Harry. His name is Harry Styles.” His heart sank. Louis hadn’t met him, they had only shared a couple of emails back and forth, but he knew exactly who he was. And Harry hadn’t just been killing it in the Big Apple, he’s been ripping the place to absolute shreds, nailing some of the most lucrative accounts in the business.

Louis is so fucked.

The one where Louis is up for a promotion, he just has one tiny, little problem standing in his way.

Without you it’s a season I ain’t needing by @whatevertearsyou / perfectdagger [Louis/Harry, M, 38k]

Spring was everything in '17, now I'm just cold Summer fell to fall after all November froze Without you it's a season I ain't needing, I want to go come back home The reds and all the greens don't mean a thing when you're gone Winter means nothing to me now without you.

A long distance relationship au in which Harry is away for a year and Louis is left to pick up the pieces.

take my hand, wreck my plans by @daggerandrose / amomentoflove [Harry/Louis, T, 38k,]

Louis meets the man in the center of the room, feeling every eye on him.

“Mr. H,” he whispers.

The man smiles brightly and laughs as if he can’t believe his eyes. “It’s you,” he says breathlessly. “I didn’t think I would see you again.”

“Nor I you, especially under these circumstances.”

“Even so,” Mr H says, his eyes bouncing from Louis’ eyes to his lips. “Will you do me a great honor and join me in leading the first … um…”

“Dance?”

Mr. H laughs and nods. “Yes, that’s the one.”

Louis bites his lips and doesn’t hesitate before whispering, “Yes.”

Mr. H beams and reaches for Louis’ hand. Sparks fly at the touch and a zing of excitement shoots through Louis’ body. His face heats up as he’s afraid his scent would give away his feelings towards the other man.

I Wish, I Found Love by @slytherinzouis / friendofhayley [Louis/Harry, E, 37k]

A fandom retelling of the Maiden Without Hands.

Solace is a land of religious hypocrisy, demons, and two ostracized families. When prophets from every denomination foretell a boy of unknown origin who might change the tide of the magical world, is any place safe for him?

Harry and Louis grew up together, two pariahs among their peers. Will their love be able to overcome distance, prophecies, and the trials of finding out who you truly become under pressure?

You Try To Be Everything (I Need) by @lululawrence [Harry/Louis, NR, 36k]

Wars, and rumours of wars, were nothing new for the world in the twenty-fourth century. The fighting had evolved over the years, and rarely did it involve traditional weapons. A group most widely known as the Southern Powers gained strength amongst portions of the western European continent and spread quickly.

There was a fight the Southern Powers didn’t expect coming from the north of England, though. Resistance came in the form of an organised underground; a group comprised of people with the Touch that did the best they could to enforce a line that would not be crossed. Slowly, that line was moved from the Channel to boundaries further and further north. It seemed only a matter of time before the Southern Powers took over everywhere.

Until that time, people did the best they could to live their lives in some semblance of normality. For Louis Tomlinson, that sense of normality was about to change when his best friend, Harry Styles, goes missing.

Louis embarks on the journey of a lifetime where he uses his newly developed abilities to search for his friend, even when it takes him to places he never thought he would see while surmounting trials he never could have imagined.

Your Wonder Under Summer Skies by @emilee1421 / Emilee_1421 [Louis/Harry, NR, 34+, wip]

Needing an escape after a particularly hectic year, Louis decides to join Harry in Italy where Harry is working on his next Gucci campaign. While in Italy the two decide to join an old friend at her county home to enjoy a much deserved break from their usually busy lives. Louis and Harry begin to see their friend in a different light and all three are forced to confront the possibility that their friendship may actually be something much deeper.

Work of Magic by @justalarryblog / Bekita [Louis/Harry, NR, 34k]

"C’mon Liam, are you really going to use this against me now? You know the kind of humans his kind is! You know very well why we hunt them!" Louis said, done with the conversation and walking down the hall.

"No! We hunt people who don’t care about others, and neither Harry nor anyone in his family is like that!” Liam exasperated, following behind. “Louis, it's been two weeks, don’t you wanna know how Harry is? Has this hatred taken over so fast?" Liam inquired, knowing the hit a nerve.

"You know what, Liam? I'm not going to have this conversation with you." Louis said decisively, turning his back to his friend ready to go to his class.

But life is never fair, is it? When he turned around he was face to face with Harry in the middle of the hallway. The two stared at each other. Do I hate him? Louis wondered as he watched Harry's eyes fill with tears and seem to be begging for something. He preferred to ignore the pang in his chest and the urge to comfort the boy in front of him. He lowered his head and continued on his way.

Or the one that Louis is a WitchHunter and Harry is a Witch and they keep it as a secret, but they fall in love.

Swear I’ve Known You Since Forever by @louinlavender / abaddxns [Louis/Harry, T, 33k]

Harry then pats around his trouser pockets only to remember that Gemma has his phone in her bag so he can’t even call her, and he’s far too intimidated to ask a stranger if he can borrow theirs. She has his wallet, too, so all he has on his person are the stick of gum in his back pocket and his muddy wellies and a too-long scarf he’s ready to ball up and throw the ground, because he’s only sixteen and he’s just a shopboy in a bakery and he’s about to cry twenty minutes into his first music festival that he had to beg to attend, all because he lost his big sister and her uni friends, who didn’t even want him to come in the first place, and—

“Oi, y’alright, mate?” a bright voice asks, just as his eyes start to water.

Or: Harry attends his first music festival and promptly gets lost. Little does he know that the first friendly face he encounters is bound to change his life forever.

Part one of three of 'And The Sun Came Out'—a series detailing the growth of Harry and Louis' relationship through the years after meeting at Leeds Fest as teenagers.

i’m gonna keep this love, if you let me by @tomlinbuns / pixies [Louis/Harry, E, 26k]

Louis makes Harry pretend to be his boyfriend one night out. The rest is history.

Dear Diary (series) by @alwayslarry-vol28 / kikiberosski16 [Louis/Harry, E, 20k]

Life in quarantine is hard, especially if you're an arrogant son of a bitch and your husband is a stubborn little shit. Harry and Louis argue a lot, so much it affects their daily routines. Harry tries to write his feelings down in a diary, but will this cause more trouble for the couple?

The Golden Prince by @behappyhl [Harry/Louis, E, 19k]

When He arrives in London, he’s speechless.

It’s so different from his little hometown, he can’t help the feeling that it is an unknown planet. Everything is bigger; The streets, the buildings, the stores. The people are always running somewhere, always in a hurry. Harry instantly feels out of place.

Or, Harry lives a perfectly normal life until he gets a life changing job opportunity.

The Boy with the Tin Chest and a Glass Heart by @louloubabys1992 / louloubaby92 [Louis/Harry, M, 17k]

Alpha Harry Styles, world-renowned author of fairy-tales, is being persuaded by the Beta, Liam Payne to hire a new illustrator. Since Harry’s own illustrations are too graphic for what is supposed to be children’s stories, Liam feels the need is dire. Omega Louis does not agree with Liam since he believes that Harry’s stories are fine just the way they are. Of course this has nothing to do with Louis being totally biased or totally head over heels for Harry. It certainly has nothing to do with being jealous of the mysterious omega illustrator Liam has in mind to team Harry up with. Seriously, it has nothing to do with that at all. Nothing, absolutely nothing, zilch, nada. Yeah...

Sweet Heart by @bluecolouredlou [Niall/Louis, G, 16k]

Designing clothes, not falling in love.

That was what Niall had in mind when he first met up with Louis. He couldn't be falling in love with the other omega. Not while work as one of the few omegas at the company was getting more stressful. Not when he was supposed to find an alpha and settle down.

just one look (and i fell so hard) by @disgruntledkittenface [Harry/Louis, M, 15k]

Louis takes a small step back, breaking the moment first. “Well, I should–”

“Do you want to come up?”

The words are out of Harry’s mouth before he’d even planned them, and he bites his lip.

“Oh, thank god,” Louis laughs, stepping back into Harry’s space. “I wasn’t, um…”

“Wasn’t ready to let go of you yet,” Harry finishes quietly, glancing up at Louis.

“Yeah,” Louis nods, reaching up and twirling one of Harry’s curls in his fingers. “Yeah, exactly.”

Harry has wanted to go to the Shubert Theatre ever since he moved to New York and lucked into a rent-controlled apartment just outside of the Theatre District. When he finally gets his chance, he hopes the night can meet his sky-high expectations. But the last thing he could have expected was the man seated next to him.

wasting my time when it was always you by @hometothecanyonmoon / sunflower_lwt [Harry/Louis, T, 15k+, wip]

A "Married To The Maverick Millionaire" AU. Louis is the captain of Manchester United, Harry's the heir of the richest charity organization in the country as well as his best friend and they have to fake being married to save both of them from impending doom.

Sounds like love to me by @neondiamond [Louis/Harry, G, 14k]

“Do you want to hear the heartbeat?”

Louis watches as Harry’s face falls with the realization that this is one of those things he won’t be able to experience. For a second, Louis considers saying no, to show Harry they’re truly on the same boat through all of this. But he nods in the end, reaching over for Harry’s hand as the doctor flips a switch. Noise fills the room then, and it takes a few seconds for the sound to become clear enough for Louis to make out the baby’s fast heartbeat.

“It’s really fast,” he voices his thoughts out loud as he uses his thumb to tap against the back of Harry’s hand, replicating the rapid rhythm of the baby’s heartbeat. It takes the younger man a little while to figure out what Louis’ doing, but a huge grin breaks out on his face as soon as he does.

“Is that them?” He signs with the other hand, his own eyes starting to tear up when Louis nods.

OR: Harry is deaf, Louis is pregnant. They figure it out.

The Prince and the Youtuber by @haztobegood [Louis/Harry, E, 12k]

The Annual Rosendal Spring Gala hosted by the Royal Family is the most prestigious fundraiser in the country. When a problem with the honorary foundation arises, Crown Prince Louis Tomlinson must pick a new worthy foundation on short notice. He discovers the perfect replacement in an unlikely place, while watching his favorite YouTuber, Harrysparkles.

One Way Road To Something Better by @femstyles [Harry/Louis, T, 12k]

Four years ago when Louis and Harry moved in together, Louis promised Anne that he’d take care of Harry no matter what. But things don’t always go as planned, and sometimes risky choices have to be made.

Inspired by Don't Let It Break Your Heart

stop the world ('cause i wanna get off with you) by @thedevilinmybrain / devilinmybrain [Harry/Louis, E, 12k]

Five times Louis and Harry get walked in on at the worst time, and one time Louis makes sure they don't.

my solitude ain’t the same no more by @dryourtearsaway / louisnights [Harry/Louis, M, 10k]

Louis is a traveling homicide detective who goes to the small town of Holmes Chapel to investigate the murder of a young woman.

somewhere only we know by @quelsentiment / wordsnnotes [Zayn/Louis, T, 9k]

Their eyes meet again, and the man suddenly frowns, asking: “Do we know each other?” Oh. So maybe that’s why Zayn is so intrigued with him. He’s always been pretty bad at remembering people’s faces, but there is some kind of vague familiarity to the man’s appearance. “Might help if you told me your name”, he points out. “Right. Sorry, I’m an idiot”, the man chuckles. “I’m Louis. Louis Tomlinson.” And of course. With this voice, Zayn should have known. He’s actually surprised he didn’t recognize it right away. “Lou”, he says, his own voice caught in his throat. “It’s me, Zayn.” Or: Zayn and Louis grew up together, but haven’t seen each other in over a decade. Now they're both in their twenties and meet again on a flight from LA to London, with ten hours in front of them to catch up, and maybe start something new.

I'm Asking You Please, Don't Talk Dirty to Me by @larry-hiatus / larry_hiatus [Harry/Louis, E, 9k]

Prompt #68: Harry’s best friend Louis is a nice, well-mannered omega, at least when it comes to sex talk. He has always been closed off and quiet... until Harry hears how Louis talks during his heat. Now, it's all Harry can think about before his upcoming rut... (Original prompt wording edited for clarity)

making me sweat by honey_beeing [Harry/Louis, E, 9k]

A not-exactly University AU where Harry and Louis meet at an orgy where the both of them don't intend to have sex at.

Twist the Knife by @snowjosh / jishler [Harry/Louis, E, 6k]

Infuriating, but Louis missed it. Louis missed him. His thighs and his chest and breath and warmth and toothbrush next to Louis’. He missed sex with Harry but he missed his presence more: Louis would settle for watching Harry get himself off if it meant he got to see him; hear the voice that was like a soothing balm over all his wounds.

Two weeks after their breakup, Harry wants his toys back.

the stars are coming home by @harrystinyshorts / lsforever [Harry/Louis, G, 5k]

For years Harry has been waiting for their schedules to click just right. Finding a day where he’ll not only be available but also is the only visitor on the premises has been near impossible.

After three years together and nearly a full year of marriage, Harry has finally been permitted to sit in for one of the team’s practices. They get more than they bargained for.

My True Love Gave to Me by @ponymom-stuff / ponymom [Louis/Harry, NR, 5k]

After puzzling over a Christmas gift for Louis, Harry comes to what he believes is the ultimate gift for his true love.

Fistiana by @louandhazaf / YesIsAWorld [Zayn/Louis, NR, 2k]

They met in the center of the ring and bumped their bare knuckles together.

Strawberries and Cigarettes by @hlhome28 / ThoseFookin_Avacados [Louis/Harry, T, 2k]

strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you

"Need help there, love?" "Oh god, yes-" Harry turned around to look at the source of the voice and his heart dropped to his stomach as they caught each other's eyes.

Or on a very lonely valentines day, Harry's car breaks down in an unknown alleyway, where he bumps into a blue-eyed boy who takes him back seven years ago on the same day.

Safe Like Springtime by @beelou / cherrylarry [Louis/Harry, G, 1k]

On the way out of the park, Gabriel gasps suddenly and points across the grassy area. He starts running.

When Harry catches up to Gabe, - that boy runs fast - he's with a man and his dog and Gabe is petting the dog.

"Gabriel James. You know better than to run off like that! Did you ask to pet the dog?" Harry scolds.

"I'm sorry Uncle Harry. I saw a dog and I just wanted to see the fluffy dog! Look how fluffy!" Gabe exclaims.

Harry rolls his eyes and turns his attention to the dog owner. The very attractive dog owner.

Or, the one where Harry takes his nephew to the park and runs into Louis and his Labradoodle Clifford.

best hangover cure by @loulovehome [Louis/Harry, E, 1k]

"A wank will miraculously cure your hangover, honey."

Stay Till The A.M. by @flexible-racoon / goneforbooks [Harry/Louis, G, 1k]

It's 23rd July and Louis reminisces.

#fic rec #1dsource #tracksintheam #trackinghome #larry fan fic #let me know if any of the links are messed up #i've checked and double checked but who knows when its tumblr lol

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beyondspaceandstars · 3 years

Text

While You Sleep

Chapter 14

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: depictions of panic attack, suggestive content Summary: Soulmate!AU - Throughout life, you’re given glimpses of your soulmate through dreams. As you sleep, memories flash in your mind showing you the life your soulmate has lived. Everyone around you raves about how their soulmate reads great books or volunteers in their spare time. But you can’t relate as your dreams end up being more like nightmares. Through initial images of death and violence, you come to learn your soulmate is the Winter Soldier.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

After a couple of days had passed, Bucky had approached you with the idea of going on another date. At first, you were greatly hesitant. The memories of the Hydra man telling you their first glimpse of you was during a date couldn’t escape your mind. You had brought it up to Bucky as gently as you could but he assured you, you had nothing to worry about. Those at the facilities were…”gone.” He had simply put it at that. You didn’t want to think about how deep the organization may actually run seeing as they had been able to be under the radar for a while. But you forced yourself to put the rest of your great concerns away and, eventually, agreed to a date.

Bucky thought the movies could be a fun thing for you two to do. He admitted he hadn’t been to one in quite some time and was interested to see what was out there in terms of genres. That led you two to sitting at the kitchen counter in the compound, leaning over the newspaper, skimming the movie showtimes. You didn’t have the heart to tell him you could've just looked this up on your phone.

“What about an action movie?” Bucky asked. You scooted your stool closer to read the title he was pointing at. You had to admit, you were getting pretty comfortable at the compound, having declared this one particular stool yours in the kitchen. You were harboring a lot of concerns over your apartment. It still sat in your mind as the, well, the initial scene of the crime. The start of that incident. Thankfully, no one seemed bothered by your extended stay and you thought Bucky seemed to secretly enjoy playing house in this capacity.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “They’re so hit or miss. We might not like it.”

Bucky hummed. “If we don’t like it, it’ll just give us an excuse to make out.”

You couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped your lips. It was a rare occurrence lately and Bucky always looked relieved when you’d show any signs of getting closer to peace. “Is that why you want to go to the movies, Buck?”

Your soulmate scoffed, shaking his head with a little cheeky grin. “You mean to tell me you really watched every movie you went on a date to see?”

“Oh, hush,” you smirked back as Bucky playfully rolled his eyes. “I guess nothing really changes over the years.”

This banter was good - it felt good. You weren’t in pristine condition but this was maybe showing some progress. Crying in bed with Bucky seems like a lifetime away despite just being a day or so ago. Concerns of various formats weren't vanishing so fast, though. Especially in the realm of nightmares. You hadn’t brought it up to anyone but it was like something had reset in the bond. While they weren’t as obnoxious, you weren’t getting dreams of Bucky reading or any cute shit like that.

“How about a horror movie? That could be fun,” Bucky said. “I can hold you when you get scared.”

You bit your lip. “Who said I get scared during horror movies?”

Bucky shook his head, letting out a light laugh. “You’re making this impossible, doll.”

Before you could tell him to quit it, someone entered the kitchen. The person came up behind you two and began looking over your shoulder at the movie times. “Going to the movies?” Steve asked.

You and Bucky turned to him, nodding. “We can’t figure out what we want to see, though.”

Steve hummed as his eyes raked over the page. “How about a romance?” He suggested. “Bucky used to cry his eyes out over those.”

Immediately, Bucky began spewing protests left and right calling Steve the biggest liar while you couldn’t help but genuinely crack up at the situation. It was a nice thing, you thought, sitting here laughing over something silly between Bucky and Steve. Almost like you were getting on and everything was figuring itself out. Maybe today would be the day it all finally took a turn.

“Alright, alright,” you said, trying to calm Bucky. Steve looked greatly amused while your soulmate was just annoyed. “I think that’s settled then. My curiosity has peaked. I wanna see a romance.”

Bucky groaned. “It happened one time.”

Steve shrugged. “Maybe she can hold you just in case it happens again.”

“Thanks, Steve,” Bucky scoffed. “Want to share anything else with her? Any other embarrassing stories from back in the day you think she just desperately needs to hear?”

You looked excitedly towards Steve. “Yeah, Steve, is there anymore?”

He smirked. “Trust me, there’s plenty. But I wouldn’t want to waste them all now. I’ll save them for your wedding day.” And with that, Steve nodded, possibly quite proud of himself for dropping that, and exited the kitchen, back on his path to wherever he was going. He left you two practically with a bomb.

Wedding day - the idea of that was something that has never crossed your mind. And from the looks of it, neither had it crossed Bucky’s. It wasn’t uncommon for soulmates to get married. Most didn’t see the purpose outside of the legal side but you didn’t fall into that. You were hopelessly guilty of daydreaming about your wedding day...

Bucky cleared his throat. “So,” he looked back at the paper, “romance it is, then?”

You took a deep breath, snapping your thoughts back into place. “Sure.”

***

Steve’s claim hadn't been that too far off. As you two were exiting the theater, having just watched an hour and a half of two people being oblivious when it comes to love, Bucky wouldn’t meet your eyes. You were commenting on the movie but he was stuck looking at the hem of your dress. You had gone with a light sundress having not much effort to get that dressed up but still wanting to look good for your man. It was decorated with little polka dots. Apparently, the dots were the most fascinating thing in the world to Bucky.

“Bucky,” you nudged him as you were walking down the street, “are you even listening to me?”

“Hmm?” Bucky jumped, his eyes finally meeting yours. And sure enough, they were wet. You couldn’t help the little giggle that escaped you.

“Steve wasn’t kidding,” you smiled, “romances really get to you, huh?”

Bucky playfully rolled his eyes and looked away. You took the opportunity to take your hand in his as you two continued your walk.

After a moment, you spoke again, “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Buck. I think it’s quite endearing.”

He scoffed. “You’re just saying that.”

“I am not,” you protested. “I think it’s very sweet you love love that much. I see it when we’re together.”

Bucky finally turned back to you. “Really?” He asked so gently. His eyes had a glimmer of hope in them. Your heart was melting.

“Of course.”

Abruptly, he stopped you two right there on the sidewalk. He looked like an absolute dream in his nice shirt and slacks, illuminated just by the glow of the night and the flickering street lamps. He was looking at you like you had hung the moon and stars. You went to ask why you two were stopped but before you could, Bucky’s lips were on yours. They were so soft and gentle yet fierce and loving. You had forgotten how much he channeled in these kisses as you hadn’t been quite intimate since before the kidnapping. You had been scared, quite honestly. Despite the sequence of events not exactly being related, the last time you slept with your soulmate you were whisked away. It was a stupid, ridiculous fear you felt slowly dissipating the more your lips moved in sync.

Suffice with the moment but leaving a bit to tease, Bucky eventually pulled away. “Let’s get back to the compound.”

You bit your lip a bit more hesitantly than you had intended but still nodded. You knew where this was going and you had to run with it. You had to let Bucky guide you to it. He was it for you, you had to remember. He was your soulmate for a reason and you were getting through this together. As cliche it seemed, you walked with him into what felt like the unknown.

***

The second you were outside the shared bedroom, Bucky couldn’t keep his hands off you. He was the perfect gentleman on the way back and even all through the compound but once the coast was clear, his hands were trailing up and down your sides, dipping scandalously low. You tried playfully shooing him away but then he’d reach under your dress and pinch the inside of your thigh and, well, after that, you were practically done for.

You were absolutely amazed by how naturally you fell back into this rhythm with Bucky. You figured something had just been needed, some kind of push to get you back on track. Maybe this date had been that. You didn’t want to think too much anymore, though, so you followed Bucky as he walked you back into the bed.

He was on top of you in a matter of minutes, lips locked fully with yours as his hands continued to roam. It was all happening fast. Very fast. Bucky was a skilled multitasker in more ways than one. As he was taking off his shirt, he was already working on getting your dress off. You paid little attention to any of it, trying to let yourself get lost in the movements and lovingness of your soulmate.

Once your dress was discarded, long forgotten in the room with Bucky’s shirt, next came his pants and your bra. All while doing so, Bucky kept stealing kisses from all over your body. Your lips. Your neck. Your chest. Your stomach. He was like a starved man and maybe, in some way, he really was. Part of you had denied him from so much, including sex, after the…

Your eyes shot open. Your heart was suddenly pounding but not in the excited, horny kind of way. Not in anticipation for your soulmate’s touch. In fact, you wanted the exact opposite of that. You felt like you were suddenly suffocating. You became very aware of Bucky’s body on top of you, the weight of him holding you into the bed that was so soft you felt like you were sinking.

Bucky was seemingly oblivious to all of this despite your breath becoming shallow and unsteady. You wiggled under his touch trying some way to get him off but he mistook it for pleasure and kept his teasing work around your panties.

“Bucky-,”

“I know, doll,” he hummed, his lips back at your neck while his metal hand dipped a little into the waistband. You shook your head.

“No, Bucky, please-,” your voice was barely there as you tried to convey your nervousness. Your brain felt like it was cloudy. You didn’t know what to say, what to do, to get his attention. You gasped, overwhelmed.

Bucky pulled away from your neck immediately, brows furrowed in confusion at your sudden switch in emotion. He said your name, voice so full of concern, but he felt so far away.

You couldn’t find the words anymore so you just tried to push him off. While naturally impossible, he took the sign and quickly lifted himself off of you, going as far to leave the bed. He stood at the foot of it, watching you try to prop yourself up on your elbows.

You were struggling to breathe still and trying so hard to get your brain focused on something other than the feeling of being held down. It didn’t make sense, though. It really didn’t. You hadn’t been held down like that but there was something about the logistics of it your brain couldn’t separate the actions. You couldn’t move, you were dominated once again. And then you suddenly remembered Bucky’s involvement and it all just… It was all just one giant fucking mess. Your hands were shaking.

Bucky tried again, “Sweetheart, are you okay?”

Your eyes shot to him, realizing how wild you must look. You were having a panic attack in the middle of sex. How much more could your life be affected by those goddamn-

“Doll, please, breathe with me,” Bucky pleaded as he leaned down to your eye line. You sat up further and he took the chance to take your hands in his. He held them as they shook uncontrollably. You stared into his eyes, regaining some order in your breathing.

“I-I’m sorry-,”

Bucky shook his head. “No, don’t you dare apologize. It’s alright, I understand. Just focus on your breathing. There’s nothing bad here, sweetheart. Just me.”

You nodded slowly and closed your eyes, focusing on your heart which was finally settling down. You pushed away the thoughts. The images of being strapped down. The way you were tossed around like a ragdoll. The look Bucky wore as he killed those men-

You shifted your attention to the weight of Bucky’s hands in yours. They had done so much bad but were also doing you so much good.

It was over. Everything you had endured was over. Those men were gone. That Bucky wasn’t really that Bucky. He was still your Bucky. The Bucky that walked you to work and cried over movies. You had to drill this into your brain before something else overtook you.

After a moment or so, you felt you could finally reopen your eyes. Bucky was still watching you intensely.

“B-Better?” He seemed nervous to ask.

“Yeah,” you said, finding your voice again. “Thank you, Bucky.”

He let out a small sniffle and that’s when you finally saw the tears forming in his eyes. You looked down at your connected hands, unable to bear seeing what you had caused.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” Bucky whispered. “I’m here whenever you need me.”

You gave a small, shy nod. “Can we just go to bed now?”

Wordlessly, Bucky stood up and grabbed one of his shirts for you. While you threw it on, Bucky began unmaking the bed. Once he had set up your space with the blankets you cherished, you crawled right in and tried to let sleep take you.

It wasn’t very pleasant in your dream world as the memories of the kidnapping filled you, despite all your best attempts to suppress it.

But you stood no chance escaping these because they weren’t your memories. They were from Bucky’s perspective.

Unknowingly to him, you were seeing all the steps he had taken when it came to murdering the Hydra men. You felt the anger, the determination. The absolute disregard for them. You could practically feel it as his fist collided with them. As he drained their life from their bodies.

You didn't want to react, though - God forbid you give Bucky another reason to worry - and instead, you gave in to them.

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minty-mumbles · 3 years

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Sunkissed Scales

Summary: The last thing Time expected to do today was meet a Siren that got caught up in the fishing nets. Unfortunately for him, that was exactly what happened.

I make a Pirate AU, and Wind is literally the only character who isn't a pirate. I live for chaos.

Read it on AO3 here

~~~

Time was used to loud commotions on his ship. His small crew of seven were as good as family, but goddess, could their arguments be loud sometimes. Normally, the noise went away quickly.

Conflict didn’t tend to linger, and even those who held the most animosity for each other, like Legend and Warriors, knew better than to let a grudge stand. Out at sea, there was nowhere to go to escape each other. On top of that, sailing was not easy. It could be dangerous at times. They needed to be able to work together like a well oiled machine at a moments’ notice.

Even if a big argument did crop up, Time was usually confident that his second mate, Twilight, would be able to sort them out. The man was good at calming hot tempers and staying the hands of those who would draw weapons.

But Twilight’s skills with negotiation were rarely needed, like Time said. True arguments are rare.

So when screaming broke out above deck, Time knew he should probably be concerned. He had been in his cabin, reading a letter from his wife that he had picked up at the last port. He had just gotten through the first page of the letter when a shriek rang out. Time waited for a moment to see if Twilight or even Warriors would be able to smooth the situation over.

Unfortunately for his good mood, the shrieking did not go away.

And they did not sound like happy shrieks.

Several loud voices joined in the commotion. Time couldn’t pick out individual words, or even who specifically was yelling, but the panic and anger in the voices was clear.

Okay, this was sounding a lot less like there was an argument, or like it was just the boys having fun and messing around. It was starting to sound a lot more like someone was hurt.

Time threw down his letter, and swiftly exited the room.

When he reached the deck, chaos awaited him. Twilight and Warriors were indeed trying to calm down their fellow crewmates. They weren’t being overly successful. Four had squirreled himself away up the rigging. He seemed to be content to watch the disarray from a safe distance, where he wasn’t likely to be trampled. Wild was right next to him, munching on an apple, enjoying the chaos. (Time really needed to talk to him about where he kept getting apples in the middle of the ocean.)

And there in the center of it all were Legend, Sky, and Hyrule. Legend was yelling, flushed with anger in a way Time had never seen from him before. Sky and Hyrule were both standing protectively in front of the fishing net, which was hanging above the deck. They were seemingly shielding it from the irate veteran.

However, what drew his eye, or rather, his ear, immediately was none of that chaos. It was the screaming coming from said net.

Time paused, taking a moment to assess the situation before rushing in. Dealing with this would take a delicate touch.

Curled up in the net, currently screeching his head off, was a Siren.

Sirens were infamous creatures of the sea. There were plenty of myths and legends surrounding their kind, but most sailors could agree that actually seeing one was usually a bad sign. Their voices were powerful, and when they put their minds to it, their songs could enchant sailors into dreams filled with their victim’s deepest desire, so they would never wish to leave.

Time knew that most of his crew had never seen a Siren before. They had talked about it, though. Some of the crew, including Wild, Four, Warriors, Hyrule, and Twilight, had neutral opinions regarding the creatures. None of them had met one before, so had no reason to form opinions, besides being generally wary.

Sky was one of those that adhered to the old belief that Sirens were creatures sent by the Goddess Hylia to look after seas, much like she had sent the Koroks to tend to the forests of Hyrule.

Legend, however, had remained silent, giving off such angry energy that no one had dared to ask him his opinion on the subject, and the conversation moved on quickly. Time suspected he had had a bad encounter with a siren before. A very bad one, that he had not moved on from.

Time had not contributed to that particular conversion, and he couldn’t blame Legend for his sullenness on the topic, not when he himself had been much the same when he was younger.

Time strode forward quickly, calling for peace and for those quarreling to cease, just for a moment. They obeyed. Four and Wild came down from the rigging, with Warriors and Twilight backing off. Hyrule nervously shifted away from where he was standing.

Legend was reluctant to back down until Time put a calming hand on his shoulder. Sky didn’t move from where he was standing protectively in front of the net until Legend did, but eventually, everyone was relatively calm. Even the Siren had quieted down, staring intently around at all of them. His eyes gleamed, tracking all of their movements carefully, but refusing to meet any of their eyes.

Time took a second to assess the Siren in turn, taking in his appearance. He looked young, although perhaps he was entering he teen years. He was much too small to be fully grown, at any rate.

There was no way someone could mistake this creature as anything other than a Siren. For the chest up, he looked mostly Hylian, save for the fins sprouting from the side of his head, which were a bit too big for him. He probably needed to grow into them.

He was blonde, which wasn’t uncommon in Hyrule. Most of Time’s own crew had blond hair, but this siren’s locks put them all to shame. Even wet, the color was not dulled, and it gleamed like gold under the midday sun. The boy had sunkissed tan skin, from spending his life in the shallows that that they were currently sailing through. For the most part, he looked like any boy you might see in a seaside town.

However, his chest was where that illusion got shattered. Along his ribs, gills were pressed firmly closed against the salty air. Creeping along the sides of his torso, following the lines of his gills, the Siren’s scales glimmered blue in the sun, occasionally flashing an iridescent green. At the Siren’s waist, the scales wrapped completely around his body, and where legs would be on any normal Hylian, instead there was a long powerful tail.

At first glance, Time thought his scales were rippled with white, but upon closer inspection, he could see that the white stripes were actually scars. Many of them, covering not only his tail, but also his torso. There was even a rather large one criss crossing over his gills, and several small nicks on his ear fins.

He wore very little, only an orange sash wrapped around his hips, and a simple necklace with a chunk of pink coral on it. A pair of binoculars were attached to his sash.

The most concerning thing was the blood dripping from him onto the deck. For a moment, Time wondered if Legend had gotten to the creature before Sky or Hyrule could stop him. But he could see that it was the net causing him harm. It was wrapped around his tail, cutting into his fins.

Time wanted to groan and bury his face in his hands. Thankfully, he resisted the urge. He needed to show a calm face for his crew. First thing to sort out…

He turned to Legend, who was still silently seething under Time’s hand. “What happened?” His tone wasn’t demanding, but it was obvious it wasn’t a request. Legend didn’t seem reluctant to tell him though.

“I was just hauling up the net, and that,” he shot a glare at the Siren, who met his gaze steadily, “was trapped in the net. I was trying to take care of the problem before he could kill us all, but someone stopped me.” Here, he shot a look of ire at Sky and Hyrule.

Before Time could respond to that, Sky snapped back. “You can’t just kill him. He’s a creation of the goddess. If we do, she might cast divine judgment on us. We might as well release him. We’re taking a risk either way.”

Hyrule also offered their own opinion. “You can't just attack him because he could kill us, Legend. If you acted that way all the time, you would have to kill all of us.” Time raised an eyebrow in surprise at that. Hyrule rarely went against anything Legend said, even if they disagreed with their mentor, simply out of respect. But, Time supposed, Hyrule’s fairy blood made them familiar with people wanting to kill them just for their ancestry.

Time considered, but ultimately knew he would not condemn this boy to death because of Legend’s hatred of Sirens.

“Cut him down.” Time demanded, drawing his knife and handing it off to Hyrule. He kept his watchful eye on the young siren. He may be willing to set him free, but he would not tolerate him trying to hurt one of his crew.

Legend held out an arm to stop Hyrule before they could draw close to the creature. “That,” Legend hissed, “is a Siren. He could ensnare us all in his spell at any time, and none of us would be able to do anything about it.” True anger and hurt was seeping into his tone now, “He could trap us in illusions, show us our deepest desires, and none of us would even know until we wake up. If we wake up.”

Time let Legend say his piece, but ultimately, as Captain, he had final say. “And yet, he hasn’t done so. I have dealt with sirens before,” This earned him shocked looks from his entire crew, which he ignored. “It is better to cut him free rather than risk being cursed. Sirens do not just lull people to sleep with songs of desire. They can also command the sea, and they only get more powerful as they age. This one probably doesn't pose much of a threat to us. But I’d bet anything his guardian will.”

Time nodded at Hyrule. “Do it.”

Hyrule nodded, keeping an eye on the trussed up siren in the net as they stepped forward. The Siren, his eyes wide and defiant, watched Hyrule step forwards. When he saw the knife the sailor held, the Siren started thrashing.

Time sighed. He had sent Hyrule to do the job of cutting the siren free because they were the least intimidating person in the entire crew. Hyrule was also very unassuming, unlike many on Time’s small crew. They were the least likely to frighten the young siren right away.

(Well, maybe Hyrule wasn’t the least physically intimidating, thought Time, with a quick glance in the smithy’s direction. But, well... to be honest, Time wasn’t even sure the Smithy was even tall enough to do the job of cutting the Siren free.)

On top of that, Hyrule always seemed to give off a calming energy. This, Time knew, was due to their fairy heritage. He wasn’t sure if the calming effect would work on the Siren, as he was a magical creature himself, but every advantage would help them.

Unfortunately, although the Siren had been relatively calm at first sight of Hyrule approaching, the sight of the knife they held had pushed him into panic.

Hyrule shakily wiped their sweaty palms on their pants, and set to work.

It was slow going. Hyrule was obviously skittish, and fearful of the creature. They startled back at every movement he made. Thankfully, the Siren had stopped thrashing around once he realized that Hyrule was indeed setting him free, and was not gutting him with the knife they carried.

After a few minutes, with only minimal progress made, Time relented, and motioned Warriors forward to help Hyrule. With the two of them working together, it was only a few minutes before the net was cut and the Siren slithered to the floor.

He didn’t immediately throw himself over the side of the ship, which Time didn’t know whether to be thankful for or not.

On one hand, if the Siren left now, he would probably be grateful to the crew for setting him free and not killing him, and that would be that. No curses involved.

On the other hand, the boy was still bleeding. Already a puddle was forming under him on deck. He needed medical attention.

Hyrule, seeing the same, took a tentative step forward. He was obviously still a little shaken by the creature. (Despite being magical themself, Hyrule rarely encountered magical creatures besides other fairies that hadn’t automatically tried to kill them. Time could understand their hesitation.) They had put aside their discomfort at the sight of someone in need of help, the healer in them overriding their caution.

Instead of Legend, it was Time who stopped them this time. “Wait. Let me go first.”

“Uhhh, are you sure that's a good idea?” Warriors cautioned. ”You can be kind of intimidating on a good day. We don’t want him to panic. Even more.”

Time tilted his head to show he heard, but started forward anyways. The Siren hissed at his approach, scrambling back against the railings, Time could see now that the wounds on his tail were deep. The Siren likely wouldn’t be able to swim without great discomfort or pain for a good while. This was worse than Time thought.

As Time drew closer, the Siren flared his fins, baring his unnaturally long teeth. A guttural hiss escaped him, but Time didn't back down.

He kept an even pace, drawing closer slowly.

Time could see the moment the Siren actually got a good look at his face, and laid eyes on the markings there. His demeanor immediately went from fearful and defiant to eager and astonished. A single word slipped out of his mouth, spoken in the guttural songs of the deep.

“Kin.”

And indeed, the Siren was right. The blue V on his forehead marked him as a Siren-Friend. And the red marks under his eye, the ones he saw reflected back at him from the cheek of the young guppy, marked Time as good as kin to him.

While the Siren examined Time’s face, Time took the time to do the same. In the tattoos on his body, Time could read the status of this child. Humans usually would not be privy to the markings’ meanings. Humans also should not usually be able to innately understand Tempest Tongue, the language of Sirens.

Most humans, however, had not been possessed by the spirit of an ancient Siren that was trapped forever more inside a mask.

Time was just special like that.

This guppy was remarkably well decorated for one his age. Normally a Siren his age would only have their family markings, but this one had much more than that. Not that Time should be surprised. This Siren was descended from the very same, immensely powerful, Siren that Time himself had known.

The two red marks under his eye showed this affiliation. The rest of his family would have the same mark. Around his left wrist were tattooed thick black bands, the marks of a warrior. They announced to the world that this boy had bested enemies more powerful and fearsome than him, and that he was skilled in combat.

Up that same arm, symbols speaking of his deeds were placed. There was an hourglass on his shoulder. The gold sand inside the tattoo was slowly trickling downwards. Time was shocked to see the tattoo moving, but shook it off. That the Siren’s tattoos were moving was not the most shocking thing he’d seen today. Siren’s were proficient in magic, after all. Lower down on the boy’s arm, some sort of wand was pictured, with multicolored music notes slowly floating around it.

The crest of Hylia featured prominently across the Siren’s chest, the Triforce gleaming gold. This proclaimed the wearer’s loyalty to the Goddess, and such a tattoo wasn’t only worn by Sirens. Many of Time’s crew wore similar marks on their own bodies. Underneath that, the symbol of the Goddess Farore was worn proudly, in the traditional green.

Along with the permanent marks on him, he had doodles swirled around his back, drawn with a water resistant paint. Little pictures of fish and seagulls littered his back, while a line of hermit crabs marched down the boy’s right arm. The lines were unsteady, obviously drawn by a young child’s hand, even younger than the child before them.

Time’s eyes wandered back to the Siren’s, and was shocked to see that, for the first time, the boy would meet his eyes. He seemed to be pleased with what he had found in his own examination of Time, and was much more relaxed.

The Siren breathed out a relieved sigh. The only thing he did before slumping into Time’s arms, unconscious, was to breathe out the same word from earlier, this time in common Hylian.

“Kin.”

~~~

Several months later, Time once again heard screaming from above deck.

It sounded much less panicked than those screams half a year later. He stood and stretched out his legs. He had been plotting their new course for free hours now, and might as well take a break. He strolled out of the room.

Up on the deck, the scene he was met with was reminiscent of the one he had found the day they met Wind.

Most of the crew had paused in their work to take in the spectacle. Legend was the one screaming, but there was no true anger in his gaze this time. Hyrule was again trying to hold him back, but was made weak by the laughter they couldn’t hold back.

And there, draped over the railing of the ship, was the newest addition to the crew.

(Well, Time thought privately, it was less like he was an addition, and more like he had just refused to leave the ship for long, even once he was healed.)

Taking in the veteran’s soaked appearance, it was obvious what had happened, even if Legend's screeches of “If you splash me one more time, I’m going to find a way to drown you, gills be damned!” didn’t tip him off.

He smiled, leaning against the mast of the ship. He took an apple from Wild, content to eat it and watch the show.

#Their ship is named Farosh after the goddess Farore #Legend had a little run in with a very powerful siren #who may or may not have shown him visions of his /dream girl/#mint’s writing #lu time #lu wind #lu legend #lu sky #lu hyrule #lu four #lu wild #lu twilight #lu warriors #linked universe #lu fanficiton #mermaid au #Mermaid!Wind

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hermitcraftheadcanons · 3 years

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(Submitting these all together, rather than my original plan to post them bit by bit as parts, since the reaction/addition thing seemed like it was wigging out on me a little bit. Treat this as a reaction/addition, if you can. :P)

Okay, so as there's a cut off now, you're getting my ideas together in bulk, so apologies for that. Some might be a little patchy, as i've not had much time to think over it all. First, though, I want to tell you how fun reading Scattered has been. Only discovered it yesterday, but its been great. Even if you're closing it now, I hope you either open it again in future or do something of a similar vibe.

Anyway, first on the list of random ideas is something that pertains to the changes some of the Hermits have gone through. At first, and for a long time, it seems as if its just Hermits who were stuck in death loops or in a single place for a long time and were forced to adapt who took on these traits... but after over a year of being stuck in the glitched world, it becomes clear its happening to everyone - those with extreme circumstances just had it happen faster.

The first time this becomes apparent is with Stress.

She and False managed to escape from both their coral situation and the months spent travelling - both on their own and with Keralis and Cleo - without any alterations, but after several months back at spawn... Stress begins to feel the cold in a way that she hasn't since Xisuma helped to fix her ice glitch at the start of Season 7. She knows this feeling, and she doesn't like it, but its not exactly the same this time. It feels more malevolent and structured than her free flowing chill was... almost like the powers of an Iceologer. It makes it clear that these adaptations aren't just adaptations. People are just overall reverting to states more reminiscent of the non-player mobs. Death and environment are just catalysts that speed it along. Soon or later, this begins to happen to everyone, to one degree or another.

Changing tack a bit (as I said, putting all my ideas together, now :P), the time they spent together led to them basically being each others' best friend in the glitched world (not shipping, FYI. I appreciate that's not allowed). This experience has changed them, the most explicit shift that Stress' sword skills come along in leaps and bounds under False's guidance. Even long after they reach spawn, if either needs someone to watch their back, they go to the other before anyone else.

Switching tracks again to the outside, as that's something else I still find interesting, I imagine the whole "people not noticing the Hermits are missing at first because they're as the name suggests" thing is exacerbated by this occurring between seasons of MCC (though probably not the current break). A lot of the community gets their news at events like this, so its only really the people who know the Hermits well who notice within a month or so. By the time MCC starts up again, the Legates and a few others are already convening with the Noxcrew to try and figure out a way to find out what's going on, but the first time the wider community catches wind of something being up aside from a Hermit non-attendance is when Noxite pulls Dream aside before the 2nd MCC of the new season - along with any other admins they can get a hold of - for help with a problem. The Dream SMP group are nervous when the green man comes back from that chat seeming rather worried.

Another point to the wider MC universe. If this glitched world issue becomes known, there might be concern that it could spread, depending on what the identified cause ends up being. There could be talks of containing it, only to realize too late that because it snatched inactive Hermits from other servers, whatever it is is mostly likely already out there in the wild.

Seeing a couple of the Sci-crafters end up on the gltiched server of their own will, and you wondered why they'd want the Infinity Portal to send them there, perhaps it was part of a group effort. The groups aware of the rough details of the situation made the journey to the Season 6 world and made a base camp there. Lots of different players pooling their skills and strengths, working together to try and use the Infinity Portal to rescue the Hermits. Mango and Methodz were just the two who volunteered to travel through the glitched world and let the Hermits know that there's a plan to free them. They know there's an almost certain chance they'll be trapped, but between saving their friends, potentially setting up a proper means of communication to the outside, and stopping whatever this is from spreading to other servers, its a sacrifice they're willing to make.

And that's about all the major ideas I have, I think. Wish I had more, and I did have the small thought of the glitched world phenomenon basically being almost like a natural disaster with no surefire way of stopping its effects - the best the Hermits and anyone else can do is damage control, and even that's difficult - but I hadn't given that massive amounts of thought.

In the meantime, i'd like to repeat that I really hope you open this AU again in future given the amount of potential it has, even if that reopening ends up being more of a continuation, with everything before set in stone. For now, though, i'd just like to let you know that i'm attempting to go through the master-posts and other content to put together a visual infographic meant to chart each Hermit's actions and journey through this AU. There's every chance I won't finish it, but given you said you'd still take art after the close time, i'm not going to rush it.

Regardless, this has been great. Thanks for putting this thing together. :D

#false #keralis #stress #zombiecleo #submission #scattered au #Hermitcraft #mod shade #i love all of these ideas so much #also #infographic????#!!!!!!!#it really does feel like it needs one doesn't it #some kind of colour coded diagram #that would be glorious my friend #good luck!!

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every-aj-needs-an-angel · 4 years

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So last week was a particularly tough one for me, one of the rubbish things about getting older is that everyone I used to rely on now has their own lives. I’m no longer the practice baby because they all have their own so when life hits like a ton of bricks, I’m usually just left to crawl through it alone but this time I had help here. I could log in and there’d be a beautiful piece of artwork, a mind blowing gif, some incredible writing or a fun ask game going on and long story short it all just helped so much that I wanted to give something back, even if it pales in comparison its the thought that counts right? Anyway this little sort of AU idea has been floating around my head for a while so I decided to try to write it out as an ode to all the lovely blogs, just for being their wonderful selves. @yusufnicolo @ssungods @marwankenzari @nicolodigenovas @noenoaholi @aliceblakeart @ahkaraii @fereldenturnip @hachinana87 @luminarai @mannadraws @tiups @monicashipsnickyjoe @nico-di-genova @nilefreemans @quyhns @fantasticbeastsandheretofindthem @leanconnoli @pirateladyoftherbbc @spearmintthief @starsisbig @stuart-littles-gay-attorney Thank you so much and sorry in advance.

I’ve Been Dreaming Of You My Whole Life.

A Joe/Nicky tale.

When Yusuf was finally born there was no wailing, no snuffling, no hiccuping sobs, just silence. His mother wasn’t surprised, it had been a long and arduous labour and she was too numb to be sad or disappointed yet. No one tried to save little Yusuf, he was born in a different time, no one yet knew how or that it was even possible. Although a short time later when baby Yusuf not only started to breathe, but scream as healthily as any other baby, all on his own, they were all delighted by their miracle. No one questioned it, just grateful for their beautiful bundle of joy, especially when their first born turned out to be their only child.

Little Nicolò was a surprise, born as the third child to parents thought too old to have another, his elder siblings taking care of him when he would become too fussy and restless. Ten year old, Lucia would take her baby brother on long walks to entertain him, fashioning a sling to carry him on her back when his little legs grew tired of walking. Thirteen year old, Ermo on his way back from town, caught up to his younger siblings on the road leading back to their home. Nico was tiring of being carried, kicking and whining, but the sun was starting to set and not wanting to stop so close to home, Ermo agreed to hold Nicolò steady while he was released from his sling. Disaster struck, however, when the teen was distracted by their neighbours daughter waving enthusiastically and shouting his name, Ermo turned his back on his siblings to return her attentions and Nicolò fell from the sling hitting the ground with a dull thud. An impassioned argument started between the two siblings until they realised with horror that for the first time in his life Nicolò was completely silent and frighteningly still. Ermo sprinted home to fetch their parents but by the time the family arrived back to where the accident had happened, Nicolò was up and wandering around, babbling to his sobbing sister. Their father checked Nicolò over and they went home, not thinking too much of it, just happy that the littlest member was unharmed but the two older siblings learned to be much more careful with their baby brother.

Yusuf had always dreamed of three people, always the same three people, until one day he started to dream of a little boy as well. Unfortunately for Yusuf he didn’t have any real friends, other children were always mean to him even though he was always kind, he didn’t understand why but he didn’t mind much. Instead he kept the people from his dreams close to him, taking them into his heart, they became his friends, hoping one day the weapon wielding ladies and their battle ready companion would come and rescue him from his ordinary and lonely life. The dreams of the boy with the sky coloured eyes and the wild mop of hair started just as life became simultaneously better and worse for Yusuf, better for his new friend, worse in the way he was treated, although the other children’s scorn at a growing boy having imaginary friends did have one advantage in that, in his attempt to explain how he saw the world, Yusuf became a highly adept artist.

The dreams were interpreted differently by Nicolò, when he saw a tiny baby or a little boy with a head full of tiny ringlets, kind eyes and a dazzling smile mixed with images of three adults, always together, smiling even in battle; Nicolò thought them a calling. Visions of a numinous little boy mistaken for the Messiah and, depending on how old Nicolò was, either disciples or those known as the Three Wise Men. His family encouraged this hypothesis when he told them of the dreams, especially after a few years of the same recurring characters, even if the dreams themselves sometimes differed, no one questioned the theory that there were bigger plans for their Nico. The dreams fuelled his belief, strengthening it all throughout his life, thinking he’d been chosen for a purpose, especially as his morals wavered over a choice between leaving the priesthood or joining Ermo in going to battle. Nicolò wasn’t sure he was as brave as the three friends he saw every night but by his late teens he was sure his visions were guiding him in the right direction so he set off with his big brother.

Once word of invaders reached Yusuf’s people he suddenly became less enamoured with the idea of people who fought so easily. Images of the blue eyed boy, slowly becoming a man, were always fewer than those of the three unlikely best friends but he now woke in a cold sweat whenever he saw them. Their laughter once joyful, now seemed taunting rather than comforting. Yusuf began to wonder whether he’d known of the invasion all his life and had never heeded the warning. He offered to take night watch, learning how to fight in the day, readying himself to defend his home until bone deep exhaustion took over and he didn’t dream, just slept. He repeated this behaviour until the battle came, although he almost missed it, running into the fray in time to see sky blue eyes, that he knew better than he knew his own, staring back in disbelief.

Nicolò’s shock was quickly taken over by anger, deep rooted fear that maybe what he’d been seeing for as long as he could remember wasn’t what he thought after all, that he’d blindly walked into this life. The trust he’d put into his assumed visions shattering as he stared back into the face of the young man he should hate but knew all too well, leaving deep betrayal and visions of the horrors he’d seen since he started his journey bubbling in his mind's eye, fuelling his rage like a lightning storm, death, destruction and his big brother’s broken body and lifeless eyes causing a red mist. Nicolò was unseeing with it, could barely breathe and trembling with the need to do something.

Yusuf couldn’t quite believe his eyes, rubbing at them trying to clear what he presumed was a sleep deprived haze, those distinctive features, the azure eyes staring back, it just seemed impossible, especially when they mirrored such recognition. Surely such a kind and brilliant person couldn’t be a part of this, couldn’t be a part of the death and destruction of the reputation that preceded the invaders, eyes so beautifully blue that crinkled just so when he smiled, couldn’t hate so deeply that he would join such an unjust cause. It had to be a hallucination or maybe he was still asleep and dreaming. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d dreamed of battles, only those dreams were usually filled with laughter whereas now all he could hear was the clangs of metal and the rage of men.

Nicolò charged forward not really sure what he was doing, what he really wanted to do was run away, far away, all the way back home. He didn’t know why he was running into the mess that surrounded him, he certainly didn’t realise he was holding his sword until it was sticking in the boy he’d been dreaming of for as long as he could remember, who seemed equally shocked to have instinctively reached for his own weapon slicing blindly but precisely. The choking and lack of breath wasn’t as scary as Nico had assumed it would be. The rage he’d felt not moments ago draining from him in an instant was replaced by a deep disappointment that he’d never get to find out what the dreams meant or who the boy now in front of him was. It was a little late to ask even if they had the capacity to do so and as he sunk to the ground watching the light fade from the familiar brown eyes and from around his vision he wondered if they’d meet again, wherever it was they were going now.

Waking alone in a field full of bodies but the one you died with felt bizarre to Yusuf, he still wasn’t sure he wasn’t dreaming but he was quite sure his imagination wasn’t good enough to conjure the sights and smells that surrounded him, his only comfort being that there seemed to be more dead invaders than those of his people. He realised that he now had a choice, he could go home and wait for the next battle or he could leave in the hopes of catching up to the blue eyed boy, in the hopes of getting some answers. Maybe he knew that they dreamed of each other, maybe he dreamed of the three friends too and maybe he knew why they dreamed of each other. Although right now a more pressing question seemed to be why did you just stab me? but somehow Yusuf instinctively knew that he’d not really meant it, or maybe that was wishful thinking. As he checked himself for the wound he realised it was missing, he wondered again if he was just dreaming but decided either way he was going after his friend. Yusuf chuckled to himself as he realised that he still classed his murderer as his friend, maybe there was something wrong with him like the others had always said after all.

It was three days after the battle and Nicolò had never felt so alone, his brother and his battalion dead, the person he dreamed of was too. He wondered if this was his punishment for questioning his purpose, being left to roam the world alone, maybe he’d get home and find his mother and sister gone too. Nicolò just wanted to sleep but he couldn’t, images taking over his mind, the resonating metal, the taste of blood, tiny matted ringlets on a lifeless body that usually exuded vivacity, he was almost certain he’d only stopped being ill because his body had nothing left to give. At this point he really didn’t care, he would either finally get some rest or his body would give up altogether but the footsteps coming towards him had him instinctively on his feet, weapon in hand and he was reminded that he came from a long line of warriors, it’d take more than a little brooding to change who he was, who he came from, they were all a part of him whether he liked it or not.

Yusuf shuffled to a stop, three days he’d walked and now here he was with a blade sticking out of his chest, he supposed by now he shouldn’t be surprised but surprise was one of the emotions reflected back at him in the sleep deprived, manic blue eyes of the one person he was determined to find, though Yusuf’s slowly staling brain wondered if this one was real, maybe the other three were too. Consciousness flickered as he fell to his knees, concern, confusion and, going by the little crinkle in his dark eyebrows, annoyance pouring out of the blue, washing over Yusuf along with the warmth of the campfire that had led him in the right direction, the yellow light causing some of the flecks to appear green adding an ethereal aura to the one person he simultaneously knew and didn’t, who he fervently he hoped he’d wake again to see.

Present Day

“I thought you said you’d killed each other many times” Nile asked

“Oh, we did! Not always on purpose, of course,” Joe laughed

“We didn’t speak the same language, communication was difficult to start with,” Nicky elaborated, turning back to the stove.

“It sounds like there’s a story behind that!” Nile exclaimed, excitedly banging her hands on the kitchen table.

“Oh there is,” Andy sniggered, taking a sip of her coffee.

“Please, no,” Nicky whined, refusing to look at the group.

“Tell Nile what the first thing you learned to say was,” Andy tittered, Nile turning her full attention to Nicky’s back. Joe reached out to hold Nicky’s hand, rubbing his thumb back and forth as Nicky mumbles inaudibly.

“What was that?” Nile asked giddily.

“I’ve been dreaming of you my whole life,” Joe and Nicky repeat in unison, Nicky turned to look at Joe, a soft smile crinkling his eyes.

Neither man notices Nile’s revering gaze or Andy silently gaining her attention and them both sneaking out the kitchen leaving the lovers to their reminiscing.

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sparklygoblin · 4 years

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I've been really into the concept of past lives recently, and I thought it would be really fun to post my take on the Haikyuu pairs, and past lives/historical au's. So here is some steamy, self indulgent T R A S H! This is going to be pretty flawed and there is definetly some movie references in here as well as some historical inaccuracies but I did my best. Also there are no happy endings because I thought that might be pretty unrealistic based on treatment of actual gay men in history.

TW: Suicide, Hate Crimes, Gun Violence

Iwaioi is obviously reminiscent of Alexander the Great and his "best bro"😏 Hephastion. Oikawa was the Grand King, destined for greatness from the moment he was born. Iwaizumi was born among corpses and dirt, exiled to Oikawa's kingdom, a twelfth son, useless. He lived as a lonely peasant, starving, until he joined the king's guard. He liked to tell himself he trained with Oikawa because he admired Oikawa's hard earned skill, and he believed that right up until he died at the end of the prodigy, Kageyama's blade. After intercepting a strike that would've inevitably killed the Great King. He falls, looking into Oikawa's shocked eyes, bright, and full of tears as he cradled Iwa to his chest. Iwaizumi merely sighed, still unable to touch the man he loved, lest he ruin his life by exposing his feelings. He dies to the violent, primal screams of his love, and he becomes distantly aware of a missed opportunity, as Oikawa's reciprocation of Iwaizumi's feelings becomes more obvious with each throat tearing wail. It's clear that he will die without Iwaizumi, but everyone already knew that.

Daisuga has just graduated in the summer of 1967, and they've been stealing moments with each other from the moment Suga transferred to Daichi's school sophomore year. And Daichi hated himself for it, he was quarterback, and he had the prettiest girl in school. So why was he so smitten with this nerd? This delicate pretty boy made his blood run hot and his heart skip. He was in love, and damn it if Suga hadn't made it obvious that he felt the same. Daichi had to put a stop to this before someone found out and it ruined his life. Suga heard it from a freshman, the handsome senior, Daichi was going to marry his girlfriend, Michimiya Yui. It made it so much easier to go to Vietnam when he won the draft lottery system. Daichi came to apologize only to find that Suga was gone. Forever. He wrote. Suga ignored it all. Daichi talked with Suga's mother every weekend hoping to collect any information he could, until the news finally broke, Koushi wasn't coming back from 'Nam. Daichi married Michimiya with an empty heart and dead eyes, the fact that they found Suga's corpse clutching one of Daichi's letters replaying in his mind as Michimiya read her vows. They had three kids, Daichi killed himself on what would've been Suga's fifty first birthday.

Kuroken has been side by side for years, Kenma serving as prohibition criminal Kuroo's right hand man. Kuroo has never shown interest in a woman, the rest of the gang doesn't say a word though their suspicious glances between him and Kenma speak volumes. And they're absolutely right, Kenma is everything short of a mob wife. All pretty hair and violent tendencies, Kenma values no one's life, not even his own, but he can't help but value Kuroo in a such a loving way. They die together, when everything falls apart and the feds are chasing them, bullets shatter the car, ripping everything but their hands apart. Those will stay intertwined forever.

Ushijima was okay with his job, he lived such a sparse simple life, and it was enough for him, the life of a holy man. Until he saw Satori, a young man no older than him, residing in a dark hole of the desolate mental facility he was blessing. The sisters merely dismissed him when he inquired as to why the man was in there in the first place. So he took upon himself to talk to the boy and get to the bottom of this. He didn't mean to fall in love with the beautiful, unhinged and unholy Tendo. He didn't mean to commit the ultimate sin, to forsake his faith, but he couldn't bring himself to regret feeling what he felt for Tendo. The only thing he actually regretted was never protecting Satori the way he wanted to. Never scooping his love in his arms and running away from that foul life. The tears that caught in his throat when he came to Tendo only to find him bald, scarred, and permanently empty, shook him to his core. They dug in his brain and ripped out everything dear to Ushijima, they tore a part that beautiful mind all because they couldn't understand it. Ushijima swallowed his tears, and mustered his courage, he was going to save Tendo now, even if it would cost him his soul. His big hands wrapped around Tendo's throat, and didn't release until Tendo's empty eyes went out. He died years later in a prison cell. Maybe he and Tendo could have each other, in the next life.

The village did not like Nishinoya, nor did his family. He for the life of him, could not be modest and quiet like the rest of the puritans. He did not go to church, nor did he read the gospel, he ran about in the woods, tricky and mysterious. The governor's son, Asahi, can't help but be entranced, he is a scholar after all. And he only follows Noya into the dark wood for "scholarly" purposes, he definetly wasn't thrilled when Noya pinned his large body against one of the dark twisty tree trunks deep within the wood. Asahi comes to two very troubling conclusions that night, the village was wrong, Noya was not a witch at all, and Azumane would never be able to keep himself away from Noya not matter the cost. It was over for them the moment they were discovered, Noya wrapped in Asahi's arms. The villagers convinced themselves that Asahi had been put under a curse by Yuu, despite Asahi's violent objections, and surprisingly brave declaration of love. Noya smiled softly as they touched the torch to his feet, and as the flames ate the innocent man up, Asahi screamed begging the whole village to burn him instead, Yuu was innocent take him instead. Asahi stayed only long enough to press a gentle kiss to Yuu's now burnt face, just to show the villagers their love was true and deep, not the by product of some cheap curse. While they were all in shock, he slipped into the dark wood, and never was heard from again.

Hinata considered it an insane stroke of luck when he secured a third class ticket aboard the ship of dreams, the Titanic. He bid his mother and Natsu farewell, hoping to secure a job in the new world, and make enough funds to secure them a passage to America one day. His shipmate is horrible though, all cold blue eyes and pompous attitude, until one night when Kageyama surprisingly offers Hinata a drink. Not wanting to refuse, they obviously get smashed drunk, and with pretty pink cheeks, Kageyama grabs Hinata's face gently. " i jus' think no guy should be so damn beautiful" kageyama whispers sleepily, and maybe it's the liquor, but Hinata doesn't hesitate to lean in and initiate a kiss. When Kageyama doesn't pull away, Hinata crawls into his lap. They fit like puzzle pieces and now Kageyama can't even imagine wanting to kiss anyone else. They make plans to take the new world on, learning fairly quick that they are stronger together. And then there's water and panic and Kageyama and Hinata are trying to rush a gate because Jesus, there are kids down there. Just because they are poor doesn't mean they deserve to die, but unfortunately someone seems to think otherwise, because the gate remains in place. They finally stop when the water is up to their waists, and a sad looking elderly woman tells them they've done what they could. Tearful children and somber mothers nod in agreement, and it is unsaid that they would go to their respective beds and try to rest so that they might go in their sleep. They lay together on the top bunk and even as the water slips above their heads and they begin to die, their arms hold tight, and Kageyama mouths one last "I love you" Hinata's fingers in his hair the last thing he feels.

Bokuto is in love with an heiress across the lake, he's never met her but is sure she is made for him. Akaashi is in love with a rich man right next to him, but that man sees Akaashi as no more than his lowley servant. Akaashi is in love with Bokuto, maybe that is why he involved himself in that horrible mess. He was always getting involved in horrible messes for Bokuto's sake. It was the height of Gatsby era glamor, and Bokuto, though he never did really like parties, was always throwing them, insisting Akaashi rather than work the parties, served as his right hand man. Akaashi always knew Bokuto was hoping he would meet his heiress at one of his parties, and if it made Bokuto happy, Akaashi hoped she would show up too, no matter how much it would hurt. And eventually she did, along with her husband, and she broke Bokuto's heart after a very miserable and short lived affair, for her it was nothing, but Bokuto always fell so hard and fast, he was distraught. Akaashi acted on instinct, pulling Bokuto into his arms no matter what line he was crossing, and smoothing his hair in attempt to sooth the crying man. Things became clear to Bokuto then. His tears ceased as he breathed in Akaashi's soft scent, wrapping his arm around the beautiful man's waist. They were in love then, finally on the same page for a blissful few months, until Bokuto's affair was made public, and he was found beaten to death in an alley. Despite all of his generosity and glamor in the past years, Akaashi and Kuroo were the only guests at Bokuto's funeral. Akaashi never recovered from the loss, he knew Bokuto wouldn't have wanted him to do it, but that didn't stop the smile on his face as he smashed the heiress beneath his tires.

Tsukishima had been protecting Yamaguchi for as long as he could remember, always getting in fights and taking beatings to protect his beautiful best friend. He knew boys weren't supposed to be pretty, he knew what happened to boys like Yamaguchi in the eighties, but that didn't ever stop him. Not even when Yamaguchi worked up all his courage and told Tsukki he loved him during their freshman year. Tsukki was angry at Yamaguchi for saying that, because he felt the same and he knew that he had to hide it if he wanted to survive. His controlled slipped for a second when Yamaguchi pressed their lips together gently, Tsukki allowed himself to dream one last time before he yanked himself away. He immediately began hurling slurs and abuse at Yamaguchi, things he knew would send the other boy running. And it did. But soon Kei felt an unexplainable urge to go after him, a sinking feeling that something horrible was gonna happen. Yamaguchi did not cry, he held his chin high, no matter how hard the boys hit him or cut him. He didn't care if he died but he wasn't gonna do it staring at his feet like a kicked puppy. Kei found him like that, full of fire and courage as he stared down his abusers. The love he felt made Kei's legs shake, and he knew he'd do whatever he could to save Yamaguchi. Yamaguchi smiled with too much glee for a dead man as Tsukki forced his way to his side, gripping his hand. There were eight of them, with murder in their eyes, Tsukki knew before he even got to Yamaguchi that they weren't making it out of this one.

Lev and Yaku find each other in 1700s France, Lev is a soft pretty boy, living a luxurious life in the aristocracy. Until he is thrown to the wolves after the loss of his parents, he is ten when he spends his first night on the street. He is nearly taken by a brothel right away, until he is saved by a particularly feisty thirteen year old street rat, Yaku is half his height but serves as his protector nonetheless. They pass the years protecting each other, growing to love each other, but never daring to hope for more than that. As many people in France were at the time disease riddled and starving, so were Yaku and Lev. Of course Yaku went first, he made it all the way to eighteen before he succumbed to his disease, clutching a crying Lev, comforting him even on his death bed. After that, Lev made the mistake of having hope, he joined the revolution in honor of Yaku. He just wanted to make the world a better place, a place where Yaku could've survived. He died bleeding from a soldier's bullet on a barricade, but he was warm, all he saw was Yaku, holding him, carrying him into their next life.

Yahaba always talks and Kyoutani might be always listening, but it's hard to tell. Until Kyoutani murders his whole family in 1978. He shows up at the gas station him and Yahaba always have their one sided coversations at to find Yahaba working the counter like he always is. He ignores Yahaba's greeting and begins frantically explaing his situation and motive, all while Yahaba looks on in shock, this is the first time Kyoutani has ever spoken to him. When he asks why Kyoutani is telling him all this, he simply sighs dismissively and says "you're my bestfriend", and that's enough for Yahaba. Clearly he's crazy, a cute boy he's never spoken with is in the back of his car and they're leaving the country. All because Kyoutani actually was listening and not only that, he viewed Yahaba as the most important person in his life. They had been in love from the first one sided conversation they had, and that was becoming clear now. They get caught, sent to different facilities, Kyoutani gets life, Yahaba gets a lighter sentence for being an accomplice. Though they never see each other again, Yahaba always writes letters, and for once, Kyoutani writes back. They spend their lives finally having a two sided conversation, their love never even flickers, and for them, that's enough.

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vexedtonightmares · 4 years

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Hi. I hope you have an amazing day/night. I had an idea for a fic. That Elliott saves lucas from a monster. Elliott is a demigod and tells lucas he is too and has to go to camp halfblood (percy Jackson au)

ok i’m gonna start by saying that i’m literally so sorry for taking MONTHS to answer this, but i loved this prompt so much i wanted to give it the attention it deserved 🥺now, that attention went from a small 1k fic to a roughly 20k three part fic because i have No Chill and accidentally came up with an entire plot, but at least i’m sharing it now!! i hope you enjoy!!

you can read part 1 here on ao3 or down below the cut 💖

love and other divine interventions

part i. identity (8.4k)

Look, Lucas didn’t want to be a half-blood. What the hell was that even supposed to mean? It sounded like a disease, the more he thought about it. Not that he thought about it often, he really tried not to, because most of all he didn’t care what it meant. Hadn’t killed him yet, had it?

Lucas had first been told that he was a half-blood by his mother when he was twelve. She said she was worried for his safety, and that she might have to send him to summer camp in America. He didn’t know what any of that meant, but he also knew that his mother wasn’t well sometimes, so he never thought too much about what she’d said and whether or not it meant more than he took it as.

A few years later, his mother had been put into an institution to help with her mental health, and Lucas had been sent from Paris to the states to live with an aunt and uncle he hardly knew. That was the second time someone called him a half-blood. He’d been minding his own business, walking home from school, and some kid who looked both older and younger than he was at the time had gasped, saying that Lucas was a half-blood and had to come with him if he wanted to be safe.

Lucas had learned about stranger danger, though, so instead he ran away and told his aunt and uncle what happened. Without any room for argument, his aunt and uncle packed up and moved halfway across the country. It was a bit of an excessive response, but Lucas was fourteen, he didn’t really have any say in the matter.

Something similar had happened again when he was sixteen, then seventeen, and each time his aunt and uncle packed up and moved at even the slightest hint of trouble. He knew that they were just worried about him, they’d lost their daughter, his cousin, back when she was about twelve years old, and they never found out what happened to her. Or so they told Lucas, when he asked.

He asked them what a half-blood was once, and they’d both told him to never say that word again. So, he hadn’t. He did write a letter to his mother, though, asking if she could explain what she’d meant. Everyone just thought she was crazy, but Lucas had never thought so. If she’d thought it was important for Lucas to know, it must have been.

When Lucas was eighteen, he went to university in New York. His aunt and uncle hadn’t wanted him to, but they wouldn’t let him go back to Paris, so this was the option they’d reluctantly agreed to.

Strange things had always seemed to follow him wherever he went, but those occurrences happened far more often once he was in New York. He chalked it up to the weirdness of the city itself. Like this: the man on the street who’d told him he smelled like death— which was more rude than strange, actually— or the time that he could have sworn some sort of winged demon had been following him as he walked to class.

Generally, he chalked his experiences up to a lack of sleep, because the life of a college student was quite the busy one. Even if it hadn’t been, he probably wouldn’t have slept anyways. All his life he’d been plagued by dreams so haunting and wild that he’d felt that they were real, regardless of the fact that he knew that couldn’t have been the case.

It was after a night tossing and turning in bed, visions of a pale skinned man on a throne of bones trying desperately to tell him something, that Lucas decided he needed to get some fresh air.

Lucas loved the city, he really did. Of all the places he’d lived in his life, New York was a close second to Paris. He didn’t let himself think of Paris too often, though, lest he be swept up in thoughts of his mother and how much he missed her. It was hard to keep in contact with all the moving, but he called the home that she was in every now and again to make sure she was alright. She never responded to the questions he’d written to her, but he’d more or less put all of that out of his mind.

It became clear to Lucas while he was walking through the city that someone was following him. Every time he looked back, he could have sworn he saw someone dart out of sight. So, he picked up his pace. If it came down to it, he’d throw some punches, sure, but he wasn’t the best fighter there ever was.

He kept walking, no direction in mind, and started to think that maybe he’d been overreacting, or maybe the sleep deprivation had gotten him at last. He walked so long that he made it somewhere there weren’t many people around, and even though he turned over his shoulder once more, whoever was following him seemed to have gotten bored and left him be. Finally, he thought, and paused to check his phone, blinking in surprise when he realized he’d been walking for nearly two hours. He had a tendency to get lost in his own head like that.

Lucas took a deep breath, started to turn around to walk back where he’d come from, and saw a light flash at the corner of his eye, something a bright and beautiful shade of bronze. Before he had time to react, he was pinned up against the side of an alleyway with a knife to his throat and a hand over his mouth.

By the time Lucas was able to assess the situation and look at his assailant’s face, he groaned internally to himself. Oh, fuck, he’s hot.

The assailant in question didn’t look to be all that much older than Lucas himself, his skin was pale and golden, dotted with moles like constellations. He was wearing a bright orange shirt, which Lucas didn’t know how he hadn’t seen before, and had a leather necklace with a bunch of clay beads on it, each with a different design. Six if, Lucas was counting properly.

The last thing Lucas looked at were his attacker’s eyes. A clear, bluish grayish color so intense, it made Lucas a little weak in the knees. Get a hold of yourself Lallemant, this guy is literally trying to kill you.

Lucas opened his mouth under the guy’s hold and in return the guy pressed his hand in even tighter. His luminescent eyes raked Lucas’ face up and down a moment until his attention was caught by something else, off to Lucas’ left.

“Stay here,” the boy said, loosening his grip on Lucas’ mouth, “And stay quiet, if you want to survive.”

Now, Lucas may not have been trained in combat, but he did know a few moves, one of which he employed the second it looked like this guy’s guard was down.

“OW! What the fuck?” the guy said in a strained voice as he fell to his knees. “Did you just knee me in the balls?”

Lucas didn’t spare the breath on answering, he just ran to the opposite end of the alley as fast as he could. He was almost away when he heard another voice join the fray. “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” said a girl’s voice, “I think you should go back to where Eliott told you to stay.”

Suddenly, Lucas felt his legs moving of their own accord. He agreed with this girl, he should listen to everything she said.

The boy— Eliott— lifted his head to glare at the girl. “Lola, stop that.”

In his haze, Lucas could barely hear her mumble something about never being allowed to have any fun before he suddenly felt like he’d been dunked in a bucket of ice cold water. He looked around, wondering how he’d gotten back to where he’d run from.

“What did you— wha—” he stammered, trying to regain sense of himself, when Eliott sighed and stood up, grimacing a bit.

“I’ll explain everything,” Eliott promised, “We’re here to help you, not hurt you, you just have to please, for the love of the gods, stay where you are and shut up.”

For the love of the gods? Were these people in some sort of cult?

Lucas was nothing if not stubborn. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and frowned. “What makes you think I’ll do what you say?”

Eliott threw an exasperated glance at Lola, who simply raised her eyebrows back as if to say, should have listened to me. Eliott sighed and came back to stand in front of Lucas, holding the knife he’d very recently pressed against Lucas' neck out to Lucas to grab. “Does this make you feel better?”

“I could stab you,” Lucas said, taking it.

Eliott flashed a quick grin, holding out a hand as Lola tossed him a bow and arrows. “You won’t.”

Lucas narrowed his eyes. “Oh yeah? And what makes you say th— AHHH!”

Lucas liked horror movies, he prided himself on being hard to scare. He’d laughed nearly the entire time he’d seen the most recent It movie, and he’d chalked up all the strange things that had happened in his life to fever dreams at best, tragically large amounts of bad luck at worst. Maybe he hadn’t been scared because he either knew it wasn’t real, or refused to believe it was real. This, though, this massive beast looking moments away from eating him alive, this was real.

“Gods dammit,” Lola murmured under her breath, pulling a sword from nowhere. Lucas glanced down at the knife in his hands. Eliott and Lola weren’t paying any attention to him anymore, he could make a run for it, but his fear was that this thing in front of him would kill him if he did.

“Excuse me? What the hell is that thing?” Lucas shouted, drawing the beast’s head in his direction. Fuck. Maybe drawing attention to himself by shouting wasn’t the best move.

Neither Lola nor Eliott answered him, assuming fighting stances. Lucas tried to emulate what they were doing, but his knees felt too weak and his head felt too dizzy. He hoped to whoever might listen that this was all just a very convoluted nightmare. He pressed the blade into his hand, just to see if it hurt, wishing that it wouldn’t. It did.

There was a moment of silence where Lucas could have heard a pin drop, but then the thing made a horrifying, guttural sort of sound, and lunged. Lola charged forward, swinging her sword with the precision of a seasoned professional, but the thing was fast. It evaded her attacks, reaching out to slash her with its long claws. Lucas didn’t think, just knew that even if he didn’t trust these people, they didn’t deserve to die. He threw the knife Eliott had given him with all his might, and let out a startled breath as it embedded itself right between the thing’s eyes.

Eliott, who’d had an arrow ready to fly, lowered his weapon and stared at Lucas with a dumbfounded expression as the thing crumbled to dust, leaving only the bronze knife in its wake.

“How did you do that?” Eliott asked, searching Lucas’ face up and down. From his other side, Lola was looking at Lucas apprehensively. Lucas opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Eliott’s expression went from shocked to worried, and that was the last thing Lucas saw before he passed out cold.

***

Lucas shot up in bed in a cold sweat, breathing heavily. Of course it was all a dream; sure it had felt realistic, but why would he be in bed if everything that had just happened in his mind happened in real life? Then again…

Lucas surveyed his surroundings and groaned, before flopping back onto what he now realized was not his bed. Great, he’d been kidnapped. By a boy with eyes like the center of a storm and a girl younger than he was.

“Lucas?”

He turned his head to the voice in the doorway, not knowing what to expect. To his displeasure, it was the kidnapper himself. Eliott, was it? He didn’t look like a kidnapper, in that same offensively bright orange t-shirt and distressed jeans, light streaks in his wild hair from too much time out in the sun. Camp Half-Blood, read his t-shirt, and upon realizing this, Lucas felt like he was going to be sick.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Eliott said as he raced to Lucas’ bed, shoving a glass of an indeterminate liquid into his hands. “Drink this, you’ll feel better.”

Lucas was definitely not going to drink it, obviously. Eliott noticed this, rolled his eyes, and took a small sip from the side of the cup. “There, will you drink it now?”

“Where did you take me, and how do you know who I am?” Lucas asked instead. He could only hope that Eliott was kind of stupid, so he’d be able to outsmart him and escape.

“I’m not telling you anything until you drink that,” Eliott said stubbornly, sitting on the edge of Lucas’ bed. The more Lucas looked at the room, the more it looked like some sort of infirmary, which made even less sense. Maybe Eliott had some weird doctor-patient kink or something.

Lucas looked at the drink in his hands, then back up at Eliott, who was smiling bright as the sun. He rolled his eyes and took a sip, figuring that if the drink was safe, he’d do what Eliott said to get more information and get the hell out of there. The moment the liquid hit his tongue, he flinched back in surprise. It tasted just like his favorite meal that his mother made him when he was little. How was that even possible? Forgetting all about Eliott, he gulped down most of the rest of the drink until he started feeling a bit hot and Eliott grabbed the glass from his hands.

“Woah there, don’t want you burning up on us, not when it’s taken so much work for us to get you here at all,” Eliott said with a smile, which Lucas decided is something a psychopath would do.

He did feel better though, now that the heat had subsided. A lot better actually, better than he’d felt in a long time. He felt healthy and well rested, which was especially great if he needed to take Eliott out in order to escape. First, though, he needed answers.

“Where am I?”

“Long Island,” Eliott supplied.

Lucas glowered at him. “Where exactly am I? Why did you kidnap me?”

Eliott coughed in surprise, eyebrows shooting up and then furrowing deeply. “Kidnap? Lucas, I didn’t kidnap you!”

“Why were you following me, then? How do you know my name?”

Eliott sighed and gazed at Lucas for a second that stretched to a minute. “I know your name because I saw it on your student ID. Your wallet was in your pocket. Don’t give me that look, I didn’t steal anything, you can have your two dollars and campus card back when you’re ready to head out into camp, not that you’ll be needing either of those things anytime soon.”

Aha, Lucas had caught him. “Because you kidnapped me.”

“No I did not—” Eliott broke off, shaking his head exasperatedly. “You’re difficult, you know that?”

Lucas shrugged. “So I’ve been told.”

“You won’t be here a long time because I’ve kidnapped you, you’ll be here a long time because it’s one of the only places in the world safe for people like you. Like us,” Eliott continued, looking like he was gauging each of Lucas’ reactions. “No offense, but I’m truly and honestly surprised that you’re not already dead. Unless you’re secretly ten years old or something.”

“And who, pray tell, are we?” Lucas asked sarcastically, ignoring the latter half of what Eliott had said. The look in Eliott’s eyes went deadly serious.

“Half-bloods.”

“I think that’s, like, a slur of some sort..”

The more jovial light came back into Eliott’s eyes. “I’m sorry, what?”

“My aunt and uncle told me never to say that, because people used to call me that sometimes when I was younger. My mom did too, but when she said it, it didn’t sound like a bad thing…” Lucas trailed off, not even realizing it, consumed in thoughts of his mother, as well as his aunt and uncle, who would think him dead. Or lost, just like their daughter. He only came back to himself when he heard Eliott swear under his breath. “Excuse me?”

Eliott went red. “Sorry, it’s just… we had a bet going, about who your parent was. If your mom is mortal, that means I lose.”

“Are you going to tell me what the hell you’re talking about, or am I going to have to kick you in the balls and make a run for it again?” Lucas asked dejectedly. Eliott laughed like he was joking.

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologized, “You mean… you truly don’t know, then? What you are? Who you are?”

Lucas stared at him blankly, shrugging.

Eliott continued, “You’re a half-blood— which isn’t a slur, by the way— which means you’re half human, half something else, something that might not make much sense to you right now, or you might not want to believe, but I promise you that it’s true.”

“Ok.” What else was Lucas going to say? He was back to wondering if Eliott was a part of some weird cult.

“You’re half human, half god. Your father, whoever he is, is one of the gods of Ancient Greece. Or Rome, I suppose, but I have a feeling if you ended up here, you’re more on the Greek side of things,” Eliott concluded hesitantly, like he was waiting for Lucas to laugh in his face. Lucas sort of wanted to, but then again, if this was some weird cult thing, maybe it would be best to play along until he went under the radar and could escape.

So, instead of laughing or asking a million more questions like he wanted to, Lucas said, “Oh, is that all?”

Eliott blinked at him. “Is that a— you mean you believe me?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?” Lucas asked. Yeah, this was definitely a cult thing. “Who’s my dad, then?”

“If you don’t know, we don’t know,” Eliott said apologetically. There was a look in his eyes that made Lucas doubt, for a moment, that this was all some big cosmic joke the universe was playing on him, that there might have been some truth to what Eliott was saying. But that was ridiculous, he couldn’t let them get to him.

Instead of dwelling on it, Lucas tried to divert the conversation, “Hence the bet.”

The corner of Eliott’s mouth quirked up and he averted his eyes, giving a shrug of acknowledgement. “Hence the bet,” he agreed.

The two of them stared at each other a beat longer, then Eliott hopped up and held out his hand. “Let’s give you a camp tour then, hm? Hopefully you’ll be claimed by tonight, but Cabin Eleven always welcomes unclaimed campers, even if we haven’t had one in a while.”

“Um, ok,” Lucas said, getting out of bed without taking Eliott’s hand. In all honesty, it was more for his own sake than anything. Cultist or not, Eliott was very, very attractive, and Lucas was very, very gay.

Eliott walked with a little bit of a bounce in his step, like he couldn’t help it, and even though it sort of made Lucas want to roll his eyes, another part of him was endeared. Eliott picked up a bow and quiver full of arrows by the door and strung them over his back. Lucas had no idea what use that would be, but he was wary to find out.

Outside of the infirmary was nothing like what Lucas expected. Eliott grinned at Lucas’ face over his shoulder and said, “Welcome to Camp Half-Blood.”

It was beautiful, that was the only word for it. There was a four story mansion in front of what looked to be some sort of dining pavilion, and on the opposite side there were massive strawberry fields, an archery range, and was that a rock climbing wall with lava pouring down it? It was hard to process everything he was seeing, and even harder when he looked a bit further and saw what Eliott must have meant by ‘cabins’. Cabin was an understatement, surely. There were many massive buildings, each decorated so wildly Lucas couldn’t even imagine the purpose of them. If this was a cult, at least the leaders seemed to treat the members well, everyone looked like they were having the time of their life, even the people sword fighting to the death.

Lucas looked back at the mansion on what seemed to be some sort of front lawn, and suddenly felt like he was about to faint again. “That man has a horse body.”

Eliott followed his gaze, laughed lightly. “Yeah, that’s Chiron, he’s a centaur.”

When Lucas didn’t respond, Eliott stopped him, imploring him with his intoxicating eyes. “Wait a second. You didn’t really believe me did you, you little shit?” he laughed, again, like it was funny. “Why would I lie about your father being a Greek god? Mine is too.”

“No,” Lucas said numbly. There had to be some other explanation, maybe he was on drugs. He started to feel a bit feverish and breathless as he took in his surroundings again. A man with the legs of a goat trotted past him and his vision dotted. Great, a panic attack was exactly what he needed right now. He didn’t even realize he’d fallen to his knees until Eliott knelt beside him, looking concerned.

“Hey, Lucas, breathe for me, can you do that?” Eliott asked. Lucas tried to answer, but he couldn’t, tried to breathe, but he couldn’t. Eliott’s face in front of him was a bit blurry now, and Lucas felt numb all over, like he was outside of his body. Then, suddenly, his vision cleared, his breathing regulated, and he felt like himself again.

“What—” he began, looking at Eliott, who looked guilty.

“I’m sorry,” Eliott said, helping Lucas to his feet. “My godly parent? Apollo, the god of music, prophecy, the sun,” he paused, biting his lip. “Medicine.”

“And you’re being one hundred percent serious?” Lucas asked. “You’re not part of a cult trying to brainwash me?”

Eliott nodded. “I swear it on the River Styx.”

Lucas didn’t know what that meant, but thunder boomed in the distance, so it sounded serious. His resolve crumbled, and he had no choice but to believe this crazy story he’d been told. In some ways, it made some of the weird things in his life seem not so weird after all.

“Ok,” he conceded, “I believe you. For real this time.”

Eliott smiled, but it was shallow, and Lucas thought about what he’d just said about his own father. “So you… you stopped my panic attack, then? With godly superpowers, or whatever?”

Eliott’s face went a bit dark, “I wouldn’t call it that, necessarily. I… I differ from most of my siblings in this way. Usually Apollo’s children are more inclined towards medicine, that much is true, but we don’t necessarily have healing powers of our own.”

“But you do,” Lucas inferred, and Eliott nodded grimly.

“It helps out a lot in battle, or with physical ailments, but I—” he faltered, and looked out at the water. “I hate using it this way, for mental ailments. Treating it like it's something that needs to be fixed— which I can’t do by the way. I can get rid of your panic attack, but not your anxiety, if that makes sense. The same way I could heal a broken leg, but not make sure that leg is never broken again. It seems like a cruel joke, sometimes, considering…” he trailed off, turning red, like he’d said something he shouldn’t have.

Lucas waited for him to continue, but when he did, he didn’t pick up his last train of thought. “Point is, we all have our things, from our parents, no matter how big or small they might be. Maybe finding out what yours is will lead us to find out who your dad is.”

“Maybe my dad’s also Apollo,” Lucas wondered aloud, and Eliott let out an oddly strangled noise.

“Let’s hope not,” he said, and before Lucas could ask why, he took off across the green towards the cabins. “Come on, let’s get you acquainted with some of the campers.”

And Lucas, well, he had no choice but to follow.

Every camper they passed seemed to be a little bit enamoured with Eliott, smiling, waving, and greeting him with blushes and laughter. Once Lucas caught up to Eliott, he asked, “Why are they doing that? Aren’t we all technically related, or whatever?”

Eliott furrowed his brows. “Doing what?” he asked, just as a camper on the volleyball court blew him a kiss. Lucas raised his eyebrows and watched as Eliott’s face turned bright red.

“Oh that’s not— we’re not— The godly side of the family doesn’t count,” he explained, “There’s no DNA there, so you’re not really related in any real way to anyone, aside from your siblings. Like, a child of Poseidon and a child of Athena could date with no problem, but two children of Athena? That’s weird.”

“Oh,” Lucas said, taking it all in. It seemed he had quite a bit to learn. “Who are you dating, then?” he asked, wishing he hadn’t the minute he said it.

To his surprise, Eliott just looked over at him with one eyebrow raised and a small smirk. “No one,” he said, coming to a stop in front of what looked like a Barbie house. “Yet.”

Lucas opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by a girl with blonde hair and big green eyes bounding down the stairs in their direction. Instead of running to Eliott, like he expected, she ran right towards Lucas, smiling at him widely.

“You must be Lucas!” she said excitedly.

“Uh…” Lucas said intelligently.

“This is Daphné,” Eliott said, “Daughter of Aphrodite.”

Aphrodite. Right. Which one was she again? The one naked in a seashell? Thankfully, Daphné filled in the blanks. “Goddess of love, beauty, all that good stuff. Someone had a lot of money betting that you were one of us,” she confided in him.

Lucas tried to look at Eliott for help in this interaction, but he was looking away pointedly. “My mom is normal,” he said instead, “Mortal.”

Daphné bit her lip, like she was holding back a grin. “That’s what my sister Lola guessed, too.”

Why did that name sound familiar? “Lola…?”

“Me.” Another voice joined them. It was the girl he’d seen with Eliott, who he’d saved from being eaten by that monster. She looked at him with a bored expression.

“You’re welcome,” Lucas said, watching as her eyes narrowed, “You know, for saving your life.”

She grimaced at him, hand on the sword at her side. She started to say something, but Daphné glared at her, and she rolled her eyes, going back inside where she’d come from.

“Your sister seems nice,” Lucas observed.

Daphné waved a hand airily. “She’ll come around. You didn’t have to be a dick, either.”

“Sorry,” he said, though he wasn’t, and Daphné looked like she knew it.

Eliott jumped in, likely to diffuse some tension, “Daphné here is a master of disguise. Her skill with beauty work can really transform anyone into anything, though more in an illusion way, not a shapeshifting way. Also, her love advice rarely goes amiss.”

That all sounded fine, but not really as cool as having actual superpowers, like Eliott, Lucas thought. As if sensing what he was thinking, Eliott continued, “Some children of Aphrodite have the power of charmspeak, too. They can make anyone do anything, just by telling them to.”

Lucas thought of the weird disconnected feeling that had come over him when Lola had made him stop running away. “Lola can charmspeak?” he asked, already knowing the answer as Eliott and Daphné nodded. “Well that’s just great.”

“It is,” Daphné said defensively, “It’s saved a lot of lives.”

“Anyway,” Eliott cut in again, smiled a bit tense around the edges, “I brought you to Daph because she knows everything and everyone. She can give you the rundown on some campers and their godly parents, if you want.”

Lucas didn’t see a problem with that, especially because he was severely lacking in mythological knowledge. Before he could do so much as nod, Daphné launched into a wild spiel, pointing to people as she did.

“Well, let’s see… over there is Alexia, daughter of Iris, goddess of the rainbow, ugh she’s with Arthur again— son of Hermes, you’ll meet him soon enough if you remain unclaimed— I told her not to go down that road again, but she never learns that my love advice is to be listened to, not ignored. There’s Yann, son of Hephaestus, god of blacksmiths and fire, he’s chill, you’ll like him, and he’s with Basile, as per usual, son of Ares, god of war— which everyone is still confused by, Baz doesn’t have a warlike bone in his body— we used to date, actually, a while back, but I suppose you don’t care about that. Emma and Imane, daughters of Dionysus, god of wine, and Nike, goddess of victory, respectively. Hmm… who else… Sofiane, Imane’s boyfriend and Eliott’s brother, another son of Apollo, Idriss, another son of Nike— he and Imane actually have the same father as well, which is rare but not unheard of. Oh! There’s Maya, Lola’s girlfriend, daughter of Demeter, goddess of agriculture…”

“You seem very well informed of people’s love lives,” Lucas observed, though he supposed that made sense, with who her mom was.

Daphné glowed in response. “I mean, it’s my job as the head counselor for the Aphrodite cabin. I have a feeling love is closer than you think, by the way, for yourself.”

Lucas blinked. “Excuse me?”

Daphné shrugged, sparing a glance at Eliott, then back at Lucas. “Just a hunch. Speaking of love, I wonder where Manon is… I think she’d like you. She’s a daughter of Zeus. Maybe she’s in her cabin…”

Manon. A name Lucas hadn’t heard in years. It could be a coincidence, of course, but at the same time… “Manon Demissy?” he asked. Daphné frowned at him.

“How do you know that?”

Lucas couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “She’s my cousin. She went missing when we were twelve…” he trailed off. Had she been here the whole time? Why didn’t his aunt and uncle know that? Did they have the same godly parent?

Daphné and Eliott exchanged a glance, before Daphné took a hold of his arm and dragged him after her, Eliott stumbling along behind them trying to keep up, towards the towering cabin at the end of the path, which looked more like a mausoleum than a cabin.

“Manon!” Daphné yelled once they were outside the door. “You’d better be in there, and you’d better open up, because your cousin—”

She was cut off by the door opening, and Lucas stared into a face he only had the barest memories of. She was a lot older now, sure, but still, Lucas knew exactly who she was. Her face blanched considerably when she saw Lucas.

“Lulu?” she asked, stepping all the way outside.

Lucas shifted uncomfortably at the nickname. “Uh, no one really calls me that anymo—”

Manon pulled him into a tight hug, and Lucas melted into it. His missing cousin, apparently, was just like him. When she pulled back she searched his face. “But how are you— Are you a half-blood?”

Lucas shrugged. “I guess so.”

“Who’s your father, then?” she asked, looking to Daphné and Eliott both.

“We don’t know,” Eliott said, “He’s unclaimed.”

“At eighteen?” Manon seemed confused by his age more than anything, even though they were only about a month apart in age.

Eliott and Daphné seemed to be thinking the same thing. “How did you survive this long? Most demigods don’t make it on their own past twelve out there, and the gods are supposed to claim us all by the time we’re thirteen,” Eliott said.

“He could be the son of a minor god,” Daphné offered, “Alexia was out there until she was fifteen.”

They were all looking at him expectantly, so Lucas launched into the story of his childhood, to when he’d been sent to live with Manon’s parents, how they’d moved around any time anything strange happened, and how everything had only been able to catch up with him now that he was on his own in New York.

Manon shook her head. “It still doesn’t make sense, though.”

“Your parents think you’re dead, by the way,” he said, wondering why that wasn’t bothering her.

She looked apprehensive for a moment, then said, “Lu, my mother and her husband died when I was twelve. That’s why I came to camp. I don’t have any family out there, other than you.”

“What are you talking about? Who the hell have I been living with for years, then?” Lucas demanded, but Manon looked confused as ever.

“We need to talk to Jo,” Eliott said, and Daphné nodded. “Her mother is Hecate, the goddess of magic, if anyone can peel back the Mist on this one, it’s her.”

“Why do I have a feeling you’re not talking about actual mist?” Lucas asked as he followed the three of them across the green once again. None of them answered him, which was answer enough.

“Jo!” Eliott yelled as they came across a purple cabin with a strange energy surrounding it. “We need your expertise!”

Hardly a moment later, a girl that seemed to be a bit younger than Lucas was at the door, breathless and smiling widely. She looked at Eliott with what was either severe infatuation or admiration. “Anything for my favorite camper,” she said, looking at all of them in turn, until her eyes rested on Lucas. “You must be the newbie! You’re a lot older than I thought you’d be, how the hell did you make it out there that long?”

“That’s what we need your help with,” Manon said, explaining the rest of the situation. Jo’s expression hardened as she did so, and she nodded seriously at the end.

“I’ll see what I can do.” Then, her expression was bright again. “Come inside Lucas! I don’t bite, I promise! Unless you want me to.”

“Jo,” Eliott said, exasperatedly, like he’d had to do this a lot.

She put her hands up. “Alright, alright. Come on, let’s see if we can figure out your story.”

Lucas tried to protest as she pulled him inside, door shutting behind her, leaving Eliott, Manon, and Daphné on the outside. She looked at him sympathetically. “I know it's overwhelming, but I promise you don’t have to be scared. Your job is easy, you just have to sit there while I work my magic. Literally.”

He was led to an entirely dark room and shoved unceremoniously into a chair. Jo waved her hand and a bunch of purple orbs filled the room, glowing with light. “Just close your eyes, and think about your family— your mortal family. I’ll do the rest.”

Lucas did as he was told, first thinking about his mother, and Manon, meeting his extended family when he was young. Only… that was odd, his aunt, Manon’s mother, looked quite a bit different than she did now, though maybe that was just because she was younger. There were weird, fuzzy gaps in his brain, from when he’d had to leave Paris and come to live with his aunt and uncle, which seemed strange. There were a lot of weird, fuzzy gaps, actually, the more he thought about it. Jo gasped, and Lucas opened his eyes.

Jo sighed, looking at Lucas like she’d seen something she wished she hadn’t. “It really is a curse, being able to do the things that I do,” she said simply, holding out a hand. “Come on, we have lots to share.”

Eliott, Daphné, and Manon were all bickering when Jo opened the door to let them both out of the cabin. They looked up at Jo expectantly. Well, actually, Manon and Daphné did, Eliott looked at Lucas, searching his face with his eyes, almost like he was asking if Lucas was ok. Lucas nodded, giving him a hint of a smile, which Eliott returned with one of his own.

“I’m not sure y’all will like what I have to say,” Jo warned them all, then turned to Manon. “Can we go to your cabin? I don’t want to talk about it with a bunch of people around.”

Manon frowned, but they all followed her back to the massive cabin at the end of the row once again. While they walked, Lucas couldn’t stop thinking of what all this secrecy and worry might lead to. Bad enough he’d just found out that the people he’d been living with weren’t actually related to him, did he really need to learn that he was the son of the god of, like, toilets, or something?

When they walked in Lucas noticed that the cabin was more or less set up like a museum, not a livable space. There was a massive statue of a god that Lucas assumed was Zeus, because he was carrying a lightning bolt (hey, he didn’t know much, but he knew that much), but it was a bit unnerving, because it felt like his eyes were following them as they walked across the room.

“Where are your siblings?” Lucas asked, looking around. All of the other cabins seemed to have a great number of campers living in them.

“I don’t have any,” Manon said, opening a compartment in the wall just outside statue Zeus’ eyeline. Daphné followed like she’d been there a million times, and Eliott and Jo didn’t seem to have any hesitation, so Lucas went after them, closing the compartment behind him.

“Zeus is one of the Big Three, which includes Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades,” Manon continued as they followed her, “And a long time ago, there was this big pact between the Big Three to never sire any more demigods, because of some prophecy nonsense, or something. I don’t know, it was before our time. There was this big war, and then they decided to do away with that rule, but the children of the Big Three are more powerful than most demigods. Which makes them more dangerous, more of a liability. There were a lot of us, for a time, but then the gods decided to get rid of us in case we’d cause too much trouble. As if it was our fault for existing. Each of the Big Three was supposed to choose one child to live, and I happened to be the luckiest of the bunch, because I was just a baby. I think I technically have a sister, but she’s a Hunter of Artemis, so she was exempt from this new rule. Poseidon chose this guy who’s an adult now, living in New Rome, because he pretty much saved them from destruction a number of times and he also hadn’t had anymore demigod children after him. Hades refused to choose, and the gods banished him to Tartarus. He only had two kids, both of whom pretty much saved the gods asses a million times over, and he didn’t think they deserved to be punished for existing, rightfully so.”

They were now in a chamber that Lucas definitely thought hadn’t existed previously. It was decorated in a way that seemed somewhat recent and it looked like more of a secret hideout than a bedroom. Everyone took a seat on various furniture, Daphné and Manon’s hands tangling together as they sat beside one another on the bed. Lucas was still trying his best to take in all the information, but he got lost at Tartarus. “So… Zeus killed a bunch of his kids, is the moral of the story?”

Daphné scoffed. “It was Hera who did it. She hates all children of Zeus, because she’s the goddess of marriage. Really, she just wanted to punish him, and all those innocent kids got caught in the crossfire. She only roped Poseidon and Hades into it so the other gods would agree. Everyone knew Poseidon only had one demigod child, and no one cared enough about Hades or his kids to intervene in that regard.”

“But if they all hate Hades, why is he one of the Big Three?” Lucas asked.

“I mean, the whole concept of the Big Three is inherently sexist to begin with, because it only recognizes the male children of Kronos,” Manon said. “But that’s basically why. He’s also much more powerful than anyone gives him credit for, he could wipe us all out if he wanted to. I think Zeus knows that, which is part of why he had him banished.”

“So what’s Tartarus, then?” Lucas asked, catching on, but still hopelessly lost.

It was Eliott who chimed in this time, voice cold and somewhat afraid. “There’s the Underworld, and then there’s Tartarus, which is like the hell of all hells. Worse than the Fields of Punishment tenfold. It’s the home of all the monsters, where they go to regenerate when we kill them, and is a prison or a home for the nastiest immortal beings in the universe. The only thing deeper than Tartarus is Chaos, from which everything was borne. The good, the bad, all of it. Only three demigods have ever been inside Tartarus, and they all barely survived it. Hades is being punished there, because he refused to kill one of his children.”

Lucas looked at each of them with wide eyes. “But that’s awful!”

Manon nodded grimly. “Hades isn’t the nicest of the gods, not by a longshot, but he’s a million times better than my own father, and he definitely doesn’t deserve what’s happening to him right now.”

“Zeus isn’t my dad, is he?” Lucas asked warily.

Manon smiled sadly. “You’d be dead if he was. Hera killed my mother and my stepfather, you know, as retribution for the fact that I’m alive, even though she agreed to letting one of his children live. Don’t worry about this all too much, though, you’re probably just a child of a minor god and you’ll get some sick powers out of the deal.”

Jo sat up in her beanbag chair. “Actually… that’s what we have to talk about.”

Oh, right. Lucas had almost forgotten about her magic, and what they were trying to find out about his past. Daphné encouraged her, “Well? Spill.”

Jo sighed. “So, I was able to see through the Mist on his memories, and I’m not sure you’ll like what I found. His aunt and uncle, the ones who’ve been hiding him all these years, they’re two of the Kindly Ones.”

“Kindly Ones?” Lucas asked, but he saw everyone else’s faces had paled.

“I’d wondered why they never came after us anymore… I thought it was because of Hades…” Manon mumbled to herself, but Lucas still didn’t follow.

“The Kindly Ones, better known as the Furies, are monsters that serve Hades. They come after us, sometimes, but they mostly stick by his side and do his bidding,” Eliott explained. “If they’ve been protecting you all these years…”

“You must be a child of Hades,” Manon said, finishing both Eliott’s thought and her own.

Lucas laughed loudly, sure they were just joking around with him. Hades? No way, he was just some minor demigod, not someone who should, for all intents and purposes, be dead. These people were all crazy after all, he’d been right all along. He forced another laugh and shook his head. “Come on, guys, you can’t be serious.”

But they weren’t looking at him, they were looking just above him.

“Unfortunately, it seems that we are,” Daphné said gravely, and Lucas looked above his head just in time to see a glowing symbol disappearing.

“What was that?” he asked.

“You’ve just been claimed,” Eliott said, “By the god of the dead. Lucas, you are a son of Hades.”

And wasn’t that just fan-fucking-tastic.

Not only was he half god, he was half of a god who should have had him killed when he was a baby. He supposed that was a point in his father’s favor that he wasn’t dead, but couldn’t he have done more to keep him hidden from this world? He was a god, that should have been in his power.

“The good news for you is that you have four eyewitnesses,” Manon said, and Lucas could nearly see the wheels spinning in her head. He didn’t know how that helped anything, now there were just four other people who knew a secret that could get him killed the moment he stepped back outside into camp.

Daphné, though, seemed to understand what Manon was saying. “Four eyewitnesses who saw you claimed by any god other than Hades,” she said, and Lucas understood.

“I can’t ask you guys to do that for me,” he argued, “What if something happens to you as a result?” He didn’t even know any of them, really, he couldn’t ask them to risk themselves like this.

“If it’s a choice between seeing you live or seeing you die, I’m going to go with the former, no matter who you are,” Jo said simply, and the other three nodded beside her. Lucas appreciated this level of blind faith in him, even if he didn’t know if he deserved it. Obviously, he didn’t want to die, and it meant a lot that these four people he barely knew cared enough to make sure he didn’t. They could very well do the same with every other demigod, but every other demigod wasn’t there right now, so Lucas let himself feel this unearned love, just a little bit.

A thought struck him, then, that may put a crimp in their plan. “But how will I pretend to be the child of another god?”

Jo winked at him. “Leave that to me. My siblings are great and all, but if you really want magic done right, you come to me. I can make it look like one of the other gods has claimed you.”

“But which one?” Manon inquired, tilting her head to one side like she was working through every god in her mind. “It has to be one of the male gods, because his mother is mortal and that’s easy to prove, but it can’t be one of the ones that has obvious, testable, powers.”

“He could be Apollo,” Daphné suggested, “Apollo has a lot of different skills, so Lucas must fit into one of them.”

“No,” Eliott interjected, voice sounding a bit hoarse, like he hadn’t meant to say anything. Everyone’s heads shot in his direction and he blushed, pretending that the floor was very interesting all of a sudden. He mumbled, “Children of Apollo have certain traits that are too easy to prove Lucas doesn’t have.”

Lucas didn’t know whether to take offense to that, and he was a little bit hurt that Eliott didn’t think him worthy enough to be a son of the sun god, but he supposed that’s what he got when he was a child of a death god.

Manon snapped, taking everyone’s attention off of Eliott, for which he seemed grateful. “What about Hypnos, god of sleep? I’m fairly good friends with Lisa, their head counselor, and the only real requirement for that one is the ability to sleep.”

“I, uh, have insomnia,” Lucas admitted. Of course, he couldn’t even fit in with the sleeping god. Eliott snorted into his hand, and tried to cover it up with a cough, which weirdly made Lucas feel better.

“Ares?” Manon offered.

Lucas squinted. “The war guy?”

“What about Dionysus?” Jo chimed in, only to be cut off by Daphné.

“Mr. D literally works at this camp, Jo, absent as he is at the moment. I think he’d know who his children are.”

“Right…”

“What about Hermes?” Eliott suggested. He looked a bit uncomfortable with everyone’s attention on him again, but he continued, “I mean, he’s sort of a jack of all trades, so his kids don’t usually have any particularly defining characteristics, aside from the occasional theft.”

“I’ve stolen things,” Lucas supplied, in a way that he hoped was helpful.

Eliott smiled widely, gesturing to him. “He’s stolen things!”

“That just might work,” Daphné said with a nod, starting to smile. “And Arthur would have our back on this, should the truth come out in any way. I mean, I think we should keep it between the five of us, but we know Arthur’s trustworthy, is all. Plus, no one would question it, Hermes has lots of kids.”

“It would also make sense as to why you’ve gone this long without coming to camp. Hermes is powerful enough that some of his kids have issues in the real world, but a lot of them can make it without any problems,” Manon added.

“Well?” Eliott asked him, smile still just as bright as a second ago. “What do you say, Lucas, son of Hermes?”

Lucas nodded slowly. “I think I could do that. And you guys are sure that— that you can help me with this?” He didn’t want to ask for too much, but if they were willing, it would be nice to not be alone.

Each of them nodded in turn. “We’re a team now,” Manon promised, daring the others to disagree. They didn’t, which was a relief.

When Lucas thought about all the ways he’d thought his life would have gone, and this was so far out of anything he’d ever considered that he was still having a hard time processing it all, but it really struck him, in that moment, that it was all real, that this was his life now.

He looked at Eliott, who looked back at him with curiosity in his eyes, and it felt like a wave of understanding passed between the two of them. Lucas didn’t entirely know what that understanding was, but it comforted him. Maybe, just maybe, this would turn out all right.

#skam france #elu #elu fic #pjo au

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archived-gtronpa-account · 4 years

Text

hmmm while Im getting around to the reqs and asks here have an old oneshot I've had taking mold in my drafts for a couple months or so n pls enjoy

Fic of @sizeshiftingrobot 's au

Shifter!Leon

Word count: 1400

Summary: In the middle of a near panick attack, Leon's emotional shifting kicks in and causes him a world of trouble.

____

Fifteen highschool boys and girls stuck together in a killing game. Each having a motive to try to get out no matter the cost; a gruesome video to plant a seed of corruption in their frightened minds.

Leon paced around the dark hallways of the school. He'd seen his own video, bodies of his old team, mangled and battered to a certain death, then cut to show his little cousin, Kanon, alive but face bloody and swollen. A clear threat to get out pronto before things escalated. Hearing the gasps around the video room had confirmed that his video wasn't the only horrifying one, and far from the worst.

Sayaka had nearly fainted, Mondo had looked about ready to beat someone to death, Sakura looked positively strong too, and there was the possibility of Genocide Jack being among them. Someone was bound to start the killings. Leon had already let himself look like a weak, nervous mess. No way in hell he'd let himself be a victim, he still had a bright singer's carrier waiting for him outside, and he wouldn't let anyone crush his dream to save theirs.

His head hung low, eyes fixated on his feet, tapping on the cold ground faster and faster to the rythme of his racing heart. Maybe he could hide in his room until everything was over, maybe he needed to strike first. The crushing darkness threatened to swallow him, breathing was getting harder, more painful. He couldn't think like that, he couldn't bring himself to take someone's life, could he? Even if it was to save his own?

"Oh, my my~ what do we have here?" He frowned and looked up, but bumped head first into a wall.

"Ow..." Leon groaned, rubbing his forehead. He frowned, confused, and squinted his eyes at the wall of leathery black facing him. It took him about two seconds to realize what felt wrong; the voice he'd heard came from far too high. As he rapidely stepped back, it took him another second to realize the next thing that was off about the situation; the leathery black wall was a boot the size of a bathtub.

"Dammit...!" He hissed and craned his neck up. A massive, grinning Junko towered over him, looking down at him with a glint in her eyes he did not want to see. As if he wasn't enough of a target already, he had to screw things for himself and show his worst weakness. He should've listened to Kanon and worked harder to control his size-shifting.

"Hey, Junko! Don't say a thing, just let me explain- Ah!" He didn't get to finish his sentence. He saw the fashionista kneel down and reach a gigantic hand out towards him to snatch him up, a heartbeat after that, he felt an agonizing pressure on his upper body, knocking the air out of his lungs.

"Aww, what a cute little guy you are! So easy to just-" Junko made a squelching sound, the pressure around him increased, threatening to pop his lungs and break his ribs, "-off you."

He had to stay calm. He had to focus to grow out of the fist. Fear gripped Leon's body tight, tying his limbs up with an invisible rope he couldn't grow out of.

"L-Let... go...!" His head got sickeningly lighter. He saw the trunk sized finger around his neck get closer to his chin as he shrunk further under the pressure. Junko looked down at him with an amused smirk, like a a child testing how easy it would be to break her newest toy; there wasn't an ounce of pity in those large blue eyes.

He was going to pass out, and he couldn't do anything about it. He was going to be killed, and he couldn't fight back- He had to fight back. He couldn't die in some blond bitch's fist like an insect.

"Stop it!"

For a split second, Leon had thought the rush of heat and blood in his tense body was from the constricting grip around him, rendering him powerless. Turned out, it was a wave of rage, flowing through his veins like lava; and Leon was ready to erupt.

A familiar, comforting sensation overtook his body, the tension in his muscles loosened and was replaced with an almost ticklish tingling. The pressure around his body disappeared, leaving him to plummet to the ground. Focus! The tingling grew stronger, invading his body, shadowing any pain and any emotion.

The fall was short. His spine didn't crack and his head didn't explode. Leon tentatively opened an eye he hadn't realized he'd closed, and he found a midget Junko, standing a few feet below him and trapped between his spread out legs. He'd grown back to a safe height- even bigger than he wanted.

"Wh... What the hell? You bitch!" Still frightened and panicked, his hand acted on its own and slamed the small girl on the closest wall. It was so large it completely engulfed her torso. He felt her frantic squirming under his fingers. Junko, the girl who had almost become his killer seconds ago, who's grip was merciless and eyes cold, was looking at him with those same blue eyes wide with fear. A hot, choking rage still lingered in his body. No, he wouldn't lash out on her, but she had tried to murder him in cold blood so she at least deserved a taste of her own medicine.

Leon pressed his hand harder, until he felt the squirming body go still. His hand grew on the small form, larger and larger until he could barely see tiny feet and a bit of hair poking out. Junko was his only witness, so he could make a gruesome scene no one would be able to investigate without knowing his secret. The tingling in his body never faded. His head met the ceiling, he had to shift to a kneeling position before he got squeezed between four walls. If he didn't calm down soon he'd either break something or get seriously hurt, but he'd already started his handiwork. He only needed a few more seconds to make the perfect unsolvable case, to see Kanon again and save her, if only the muffled screams under his palm would die down...

"Guys! Are you alright?" Makoto rushed out of his room, gasps and monstrous creaks filled his ears. It all died down as soon as he scrambled into the dark hallway. He found Junko, leaning against a wall and clutching her chest, and Leon, crouching down, sputtering and coughing. He'd heard a crash, and the scene in front of him made it seem like they had been fighting, but there was nothing out of the ordinary that he thought could have made such terrifying explosion.

"Leon!" Makoto knelt besides him and rubbed his back, an attempt to calm his coughing fit and hysterical breathing.

"Hmph," Junko huffed, although it sounded like she was holding back a cough. Makoto eyed the girl; she looked like a shriveled mess, a stark contras to her usual impecable look. "You shouldn't trust this guy so easily, Naegi. He might be hiding one hell of a dark secret," she turned on her heels and staggered off, with a slight yet noticeable limp. Makoto was confused, but his attention was on the boy on the ground. Whatever had happend between the two seemed to have left him on the verge of passing out.

"Come on, Leon," he helped the taller boy stand up and let him lean against him for support. A quick trip to the bathroom to freshen up would do his classmate good.

Even leaning, Makoto noticed that Leon was much, much taller than him. And good lord, he was so heavy, it was hard for the shorter boy to even take one step with all that weight leaning on him. Well, he'd never met a baseball star in real life, so he supposed they were that much stronger and taller than an average guy like him.

____

Done! Looking alright already, I had fun with this one esp that unexpected part where Leon got murderous, I didn't plan for things to go that way! Just wanted a nice lil thing with the anxious boy being helpless and getting saved by hope itself, not an angry baseball star ready to kill. The pacing is kinda weird tho, but I don't feel competent enough to be able to fix it, so I'll just leave it as it is.

#gt #gtronpa #danganronpa #dr1 #Leon kuwata #junko enoshima #makoto naegi #sizeshifter!leon #shifter!leon #giant!leon #tiny!leon #giant!junko #tiny!junko #writing

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kanene-yaaay-o-retorno · 4 years

Text

The Colors of my Soul(mates) [1]

[Second oneshot]

[AO3 link]

Kanene’s Notes:

Nope, I do not regret the pun. Okay, okay! I’ve plaining this AU for almost an year so I’m pretty excited to post it!! dfghjsdfrtyucfvgbhjv yaaaay!! Thank you very very much @olliedollie1204 for such a positive feedback and awesome ideas. it helped me a lot!!

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* That fanfic has Virgil, Logan, Patton and Roman (only a brief mention of Remy) in a platonic relationship (yet), but it can be viewed as romantic, if you wish.

* Warnings: A bit of swearing and depreciative thoughts. It’s mostly fluff and hurt/comfort, tho.

* This characters do not belongs to me. They all belongs to the amazing Thomas Sanders in his series of Sanders Sides.

* Something around 4.500 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any advice is very very welcome!

* Tô com preguiça de postar a versão em português brasileiro aaaa! Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Say to someone important how much you love them, be safe, talk with the one that you love, drink water and sleep well! Byeioo!~

[~*~]

What can do a creature if not, between creatures, love? - Carlos Drummond de Andrade

- What the fu-

Virgil only discovered he had more than one Soulmate when he was twenty years old, more specifically the exact moment he took a wrong turn and kept going even knowing he was in the wrong way because one hour it would lead him to somewhere Virgil would recognize before his mortal being inevitably starved to death in the middle of nowhere and his eyes got dragged from the visions from thousands of futures created by his mind to a Teddy Bear Store - they seemed to replicate worse than bacteria during Valentine’s Day - and two bears from the crimson shelter suddenly dyed themselves in two milliseconds as he slightly glanced at them.

Two of them. Virgil felt his entire face burn in hot shades of embarrassment with drops of disbelief, almost as if all the people running, stumbling, locked in their own worlds and swearing while walked in the sideway because ‘some stupid teenager decided to just stop and block their way’ could, by only looking at him, stare deep into his soul and realize the one staring astonished the store already carried in his fate another one more Soulmate at home.

One completely different in shape and form, even if also blue, however in a light, sky blue completely opposite shade from the new navy one staring him down - Virgil knew plentily their link wasn’t bonded yet, albeit he was equally sure that the person behind those black glooming teddy bear’s eyes were already judging him, - wondering why, between all the people, he was their soulmate. The other red one was very much likely crackling in his face when an employee came and pointedly turn the adult’s attention to the sign in big, graphed words clued in front of their store:

“You dye, you buy.”

Virgil signed, pushing his hoodie down further, wondering how much time it would take of him hitting his head on the wall to finally pass out. This option sounded much more attractive when he realized that this new ‘discovery’ about himself would cost all his month’s saves.

He asked, to the Universe, the stars, the Earth and whoever was seeing him in that exact moment: why?

Was it a kind of prank? A punishment from fate when, years and tears ago, Virgil lifted his chin up and dared the Universe to give him more soulmates as he locked all his uncolored – although never really free of some weak drops of paint from what one day they came to be – simply stuffed animals, - and nothing more, anymore, - away and promised he would never, ever allow himself to go all through this shit again?

But… That had been… years ago. Almost a decade since that soft voice he got to know so well, the impulsive acts, long conversations and warm feelings.

But…

Time has passed, that is true. Nevertheless, deep down has he really changed?

Virgil stared at the bag carried so close to his chest since his bare hands were sweating and shaking way too much for this task. Yes, he knew his Soulmates won’t feel anything until both of them decided to ‘give the First Step’, accepting to link their souls and fates, for the longest as it lasts. However, he didn’t want to risk it, because what if they felt? What if he in some way broke the Soulmate System when got two at the same time and now everything was messed up and they could already feel his touches even through the bag and the first impression Virgil would gave to them was ‘That anxious, weird boy and his creepy, sweaty hands’ and-

A girl almost hit him as she passed running at his side, making his arms protectively hug further the teddy bears closer to him, arms protectively involving them, the soft touch somehow calming his tumulted thoughts. The lost man took a deep breath.

Clear your mind. Rational thoughts. Focus on the two sides of the coin. Three people wouldn’t be able to break a millennial, unknown system, don’t matter how good he was in screwin… No, a voice that sounded suspiciously a lot like his psychologist calmly pointed, not like that. Virgil huffed, trying again. He was a magnet of problems and bad…Okay, also wrong. Neutral thoughts, focus on neutral thoughts. Come on. Come on.

It was okay.

They wouldn’t feel him until they gave the first step. Right, that… sounded like a start. He didn’t do anything. Now, what Virgil needed to do was go to his house, clean his bed in order to find a good place where he could put and ignore them and then he would get his headphones, listen his playlists and wonder where the fuck his life was going.

It was okay. Everything would stay okay as long as he didn’t give the First Step.

Virgil unconsciously hugged tighter the teddy bears, his fingers finding way and drowning themselves in the soft, cozy fur, combing them in light, soothing touches as he continued his way.

Okay. Everything was okay.

[~*~]

Plurinfanto, or Multiple Souls, it’s the nomination used for the cases when a person has diverse soulmates at the same time and in a same period.

The first known case was with Pharaoh Cleopatra when multiples of her woolen fabric started to dye themselves in various colors and shades. In Ancient Roman, it was believed that the occurrences were blessings from Venus in a sign of prosperity and abundance. Grand, longstanding parties were executed through days nonstop in order to get together those intertwined souls. When the connection broke and the colors disappeared, it meant that days of pain and foreboding were waiting forward.

It is not known for certain the exact moment when the meaning changed, albeit researchers believe it was around the fall of the Roman Empire, when all the invasions resulted in a cultural reconstruction which led to the loss from much of their costumes.

CLICK HERE TO DISCOVER HOW TO HAVE THE SOULMATE OF YOUR DREAMS!!!!

[~*~]

The computer made a soft ‘click’ as Virgil closed it and sat on his bed, adjusting slightly his position to stare the three vivid, brilliant stuffed beings contrasting to the general dark theme of his room.

Virgil growled, resting his back on the cold wall, the shivers calming his flowing thoughts about all the variants this whole thing had. No to mention that people change with time, leading to the souls who they “relate” to change as well, meaning that you can have someone in your life for years and then, one month, or weeks or the next day, you can wake up only to discover you and the said person don’t “match” anymore.

And NO ONE talked about this just because it was a freak tabu to doesn’t have ‘an only one soulmate who will be with you until the end of your existence’. Oh, for fuck sake. Virgil ran his hand through his hair, wincing when he accidently pulled some tangled strands. That sounds like a line of commercial, does anyone believe that bullshit for real?

“Hello dear, newer fellow!!” The popping thought broke his line of reasoning, jumping excitedly in his mind and automatically pulling him out of his wanders. It has a strong and full of… about everything, tune demanding attention. Virgil felt a warm kiss on his forehead, meaning one soulmate – a deep part of him turned his attention to the red colored teddy bear, - had given the First Step. The one who in some moment changed his position so now he was sitting on the floor felt his face get hot again, heart thumping strongly in his chest as his arm moved, fingers stopping inches away from the fur, questioning if he was ready to retribute the gesture.

[~*~]

Many history icons have reports of being Pluriers, as shown in the book ‘The Romance in the History of Those Who Wrote It’, by historian Henry Senyura. The subject is also beginning to gain more visibility after the protest from the teacher Joan A. in 2010, who got touched towards the situation of some of her pupils being forced to choose only one among their Soulmates for the six-month annual exchange, by the end of that period most of them lost or weakened their bonding due lack of communication, small changes of personality and continuous absence. She held a protest at the front of the school, stating that no one had the right to interfere in ‘matters of the heart’.

A lot of fiction works are beginning to address the topic more frequently, as in I’m Not One, a movie directed by Devon Stan; The Seven Colors of Rainbow, a book written by Lílian Lee and the psychological analysis Life’s Watch, recently found between drafts by the famous writer Robin Green, published after their husband’s authorization, Josué Green.

[~*~]

Logan hummed. As it seems, this was a relatively common thing, since the concept of Soul Mates surpassed the barriers of unity and time, being ‘souls who in a way or other intertwined themselves in some part of their life. Sometimes it didn’t necessarily mean a romantic relationship, as the majority of society and media pointed, but it also didn’t hold any assurance that all of them were platonic.

He massaged the bridge of his nose. Remy wasn’t in the dorm so everything was silent enough for him to hear his own thoughts.

It has been a remarkable amount of years since he got his last soulmates, - except for Remy, however they both considered this occurrence as a separate incident - well, until, of course, this day. At least it was a good thing he always carried in his bag extra easy manageable stuffed animals or else maybe the System would dye one of clothes, what would be less than ideal for him in the middle of his philosophy debate. But things got even more interesting when, after his classes, as he arrived at the small, pleasantly well-organized store next to his university, one more stuffed animal colored itself right before him.

He didn’t exactly understand why. Logan considered himself an owner of a… quite strong, strict personality, this added with his difficulty in managing his and one another emotions usually tended to bring some complex tribulations in his rela-

Anyway, that is beside the important matter. The one laying his chin on his crossed fingers undid his pose for a bite of time in order to adjust his glasses, barely fixating his gaze on the two plushies in the desk before him, his third – Pat - resting a few centimeters away, closer to Logan’s fingers, who were barely touching. Mind running. Asking, reflecting, wondering what was the exact amount of time to be acceptable to give his First Step?

‘The First Step’.

Logan never really understood from where and how that expression emerged. It didn’t come from the words’ etymology nor some semantic detour. His most concrete hypothesis consisted of the phrase being derived from old romances.

“Did you know it used to be called the ‘First Kiss’?! But that confused a lot of people who really believed that, to be able to talk and interact with their soulmates they would have to kiss each other, like the Sleeping Beauty! I always got confused in this movie when I was a child, by the way! That ended up messing with a bunch of relationships before they even started, since a lot of peeps don’t feel comfortable enough with strangers kissing them. However, they also speeded up a bunch of them as well…” Logan blinked, his attention escaping from his previous thoughts to the light sky blue plushie of Baby Yoda, for a moment surprised with the sudden input. He felt fingers carefully holding his arms and a bit of ghost movements as Pat probably moved his representation to somewhere else, a hug and warmth engulfing the one yet absolving the new information moments later.

“That was… enlightening.” His voice danced across the room. Even though he was completely aware they could chat telepathically, the childish act of saying the words out loud still comforted him, in a way. “Thank you for your contribution.”

He took a deep breath and closed the tab of research on his cellphone, internally thanking from the escaping of his turmoil of thoughts, his free hand carefully combing the Baby Yoda’s head fur, almost methodic.

“Looo, no!” The other protested with no heat in his tune, leading a toothless smile to resurface in Logan’s features. “Stop doing this. You know I end up sleeping every time!”

“Oh no, what a tragedy.” He deadpanned, already plugging his phones and changing to a most relaxed position on his chair, his eyes traveling across the countless movies on the device before him. “In which episode did we stop?”

“I’m going to fight you.” Pat sounded like he was pouting.

“How so?” Logan asked, trying to hide his amusement.

Silence followed his words.

“Pat?”

“What is the skeleton’s favorite instrument?”

“Pat, don’t you fucking da-”

“Language! It’s a xiloBONE!”

Logan audible growled, fast in his final decision. “I’m going to drop you out the window.”

“I’m going to hug you!” And immediately the one rolling his eyes felt himself being squished in a strong bear hug, huffing only half annoyed.

“You are an incorrigible heathen, let me go in this exact instant.” His answer was a ‘butterfly kiss’ – as Pat was fond in calling them – on his forehead. “Urg, affection.” Yet he smiled and mirrored the act, lightly poking the other’s side.

“We’re on episode 19.”

[~*~]

Roman stared the paper, his pencil’s tip stopped in the middle of the biggest petal’s flower, his eyes narrowing in the hope of a clearest way of how to convert the vague idea he had in transforming the night full of stars in a flower. No to tell he also would need to choose a good pallet of colors indication for it, later, and probably re-do all the process over and over and over until got the best result as possible. A yawn found its way from his lips and the designer stretched, getting up to drink a bit of water and rubbing his eyes, wondering if it was really worth it to make a black tea to help him through the night.

A glimpse of color caught his attention. The navy blue teddy bear on his couch, the main inspiration of his newest tattoo. Roman wondered why it wasn’t resting in front of him while he drew. A corner of his brain, obscured by the tiredness, telling he had a previous good reason for this choice although his actual self carried absolutely no idea of why.

Well, if he couldn’t remember it, it means the reason wasn’t THAT good, right?

Roman held the stuffed animal, spinning with it across the room for a couple of minutes, imagining who would be the person behind it. A king, a queen, a non-binary royalty? Did they like Disney? Musicals? Sing? Would they chat for hours at first with a few words exchanged or would they take a bit to warm at each other? Was navy blue their favorite color or…

Or…

Navy blue.

Oh.

He fixed his glare on the plushie, his hands feeling and slowly drawing in the soft fur of it.

Navy blue, huh? A humorless chuckled flew in the air. It could have no significance, it could be a world of it. It probably didn’t mean what he, for a moment, a so silly, stupid moment, wished it meant. Of course, one day this would happen, right? It was something normal, something expected. Not the magical, right out of the story books or his old daydreams, occurrence.

This wasn’t a second chance. The Universe doesn’t give you second chances. He wasn’t the same boy from eleven years ago, holding his own costumed teddy bear crying his eyes out, hugging he – No, it – the closest as possible, wishing with all his heart and soul for the color, the voice, the thoughts, the rambling, their bickering, the forgiveness to come back again.

No, he grew up. He moved on. He got better.

Then why did a part of him still felt this way? Like he was about to hear the excited giggles, the soft reprimand, that lovely, deep and so truly -and sometimes boring, Roman had to admit – questions? Why would a part of him still say that he could have it all again if he just… waited long enough, hoped high enough, dreamed long enough…

…If he was enough.

There aren’t more than seven billion colors in the world. Roman would be stupid if he really believed there was a path where he wouldn’t stumble in that so (un)fortunate well-known shade of blue again.

Roman growled, his forehead making a loud, dry thumping sound as hit his desk. The one who should be asleep hours ago had absolutely no energy to battle against those thoughts, again. At least for now. He rubbed his eyes and stared at the teddy bear laid on the cold tabletop before him. Well, what a better way to get rid of your own means thoughts than put some stranger’s unpredictable thoughts in the middle of it? Roman slightly pushed the bunch of flowers and some warmup sketches he had out of the way, carefully carrying the representation next to him, nodding. Honestly, that was the best idea he had for a while, why did he even put the lovely thing away?

Awake Roman was so silly, thinking that… something he couldn’t quite recall right now would be a bad idea, he pointed as snorted softly, pressing his lips on the teddy’s forehead, the quote he knew by heart flying from them in a natural flow.

“It is not immortal, since it’s flame. But let it be infinite while it lasts.”

A warm sensation rested on his own forehead moments later, leading the sleepy form to hum happily.

“Is it… poetry?” Oh shit, Roman widened his eyes. His soulmate heard that?? Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. Roman mentally facepalmed himself. So that was why he usually said it before the First Step!

“Uhh, yeah. Of course. Fidelity Sonnet by Vinícius Moraes.”

“I see. Classicism, I presume. A literature of very soundly pleasant rhymes, indeed. The first sonnet was probably created by the humanist Italian poet Francesco Petrarca, although it got even more known in the western literature after the works of Camões, who- ”

“He is from Modernism, actually.” Roman didn’t know why he suddenly sounded so defensive. Logan felt a cold feeling run his body when the other’s hands let go of him, for a piece of second wondering if it was supposed for him to do the same with the red narwhal plushie on his hold.

“A very common mistake to make due the lack of context.” He retorted, unable to formulate another answer. He had, of course, thought, balanced options and chosen the best topics to discuss with his new soulmates when they bonded. However, his fingers firmly gripped the pen, its tip tapping on the first topic written in the notebook partially forgotten in front of him, the poetry figuratively threw him out of his tracks, leading the decision to be the most impartial as possible due his… not so impartial past memories with that specific shade of red an even more difficult task than it already was.

“Yes. Sure. Sorry, I- I’m just… very tired right now.”

“You should go sleep, then.”

The other snorted with the direct, immediate response. “I should, shouldn’t I? Gotta work, though.”

Some part of Logan’s brain registered the new fact, separating and keeping it in a special place so he would remember to write it down in the new folder he bought, later.

“I see.” … poetry? That wasn’t a hard topic to talk about. The one now nervously cleaning the very clear lenses twisted his mouth. He could talk about this for hours. No, correction: he already had previously talked about this for hours non stop.

Logan strangely felt the urge to rub his face and scream. It has been years, - eleven years and 10 months to be precise – and exactly eight years since the one wearing glasses learned poetry because of him. Because of his constant habit of reciting Shakespeare before they would go to bed, until Logan brought himself to research and decorate all the poems he could muster, taking the task to now wake Prince – the name still carried a strong taste in his tongue – in the same way every single day. Before they realize, that becomes something between them. There were times when both didn’t talk, content in only reciting some verses and hear the other complete them. A part of Logan, that illogical and unfortunately full of feelings one wondered how their rap battles would be if they found each other right now.

Did Prince even maintain his liking the same things he one day did? Does he still recite poetry? Does he maintain the same dreams? The same habits? Does he even remember about him?

Highly improbable.

“You can call me Lo.”

Roman slowly blinked, getting out the fog surrounding his brain to realize he was mindless staring at the pan’s boiling water, surprised the other still there. Well, it seems like he hasn't screwed terribly everything yet.

“Lo? Like Lowrance?”

“Even though my name does contain ‘Lo’ in it, no. It’s ‘Lo’ like Logic. I came to believe it’s a good idea the nomination after a predominant characteristic, since we can’t actively exchange our real names through the Soulmate System.”

Roman’s breath hitched, a memory with yellow-ish edges and nostalgic smell unrolling in front of him.

…

‘I think we should choose you a name with more personality in it, ya know?’ He threw himself on his bed, kicking his legs on the air before immediately scoping the plushie and laying it on his stomach. ‘Like a characteristic!’

‘I don’t see what is wrong with the nickname I choose.’

‘No, no! There is nothing wrong with it! But that could be something just between us!’ Then he gasped, picturing that, if he was inside a movie there would be a lamp shining right above his hair in this moment. ‘We could call you Ro!! You wanted to be a robot, right?’

His soulmate growled and Roman felt a few pokes on his arm, the verbal protest doesn’t taking long before accompanying it. ‘I was three years old!’

‘And I’m never letting you live this down.’ He beamed, both knowing the annoyed scoff he got as response held no real heat. ‘Besides, we could even match our names!!’

‘That would be very counterproductive.’ Roman felt his hair being softly smoothed, a usual indication the other was losing himself in his thoughts. ‘Nicknames are supposed to help us. Having two equal names is not the most efficient thing.’

Roman dramatically scoffed, picking the stuffed animal and half hugging it, his free hand occupying itself in making a couple of gestures to no one, since his soulmate couldn’t exactly see them. ‘It’s not about being productive, Bear! It’s about feelings!!’

‘And since when,’ a light poke was delivered on his belly, making him squeak and mess with the teddy bear’s hair in revenge ‘Everything isn’t feelings for you, your highness?’

…

“Okay,” Roman and his self past disappearing with the fading memory said, in synchrony “You shall call me by Prince, then.”

Suddenly he felt himself falling, his hands quickly holding on the tabletop as the cold, nauseous feeling took over his stomach, more like a punch on it, his veins being filled with amounts of adrenaline for a glimpse of a second.

“Excuse me? Warn a guy next time you decide to just drop his representation, dude! Damn.” Roman shook himself, trying to bring his body to calm down.

“Sorry, I got… startled.” Logan gulped. The word ‘Prince’ echoing on his mind as a broken vinyl disc. What were the chances? That couldn’t be such a common nickname, right? Nor color. Nor interests. What were the chances? What could be the chances? Maybe he was just projecting, being played, tricked by a dangerous partnership between his own brain and emotions. Maybe he was just jumping to conclusions due the nostalgic feeling fogging his actions, his thoughts. Perhaps-

“Hey, Lo? Are you there?”

“Yes.” Logan answered, his fingertips colliding quickly with the fabric of his pants as he visualized his options. “Yes, I am.”

“Hm. Okay, then. I’m… glad to know.”

Silence. Logan took a wobbly breath.

“Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back; Wherein he puts alms for oblivion; A great-size monster of ingratitudes:”

“Those scraps are good deeds past; which are devour'd; As fast as they are made, forgot as soon.” Roman continued without even noticing until the words danced in the air, just like the years haven’t passed.

Then he understood.

His heart stopped for a second, his eyes widening and his voice disappearing, as if his whole being was afraid to break the moment, the spell; as if this was a dream and a miscalculate step would make everything fade.

“Bear?” Roman felt a light poke on his cheek.

“Hello, Prince.”

Roman choked a laugh, quickly crawling the teddy bear next to his chest, hugging it both firmly and yet so caring, curling around its - no, him - feeling an equal warmth involve his form as he hided his face on the soft fur, giggling and hugging, feeling so happy, so alive and right and good and he would never, ever, ever again let him go.

“I missed you, bitch. Never scare me like this again.”

“I… missed you, as well.” Logan tried to not let the emotion take over his tune, his hand petting the narwhal plushie softly, the words had abandoning him, as it seems. “This reunion is a… good surprise.”

“Oh, shut up, I know you’re having a blast somewhere in that logic soul of yours, too.”

Logan huffed, grinning. “Stop crying on my hair, your troglodyte.”

“Make me, I dare you.”

“Always so dramatic.” They both rolled their eyes, letting the moment be bathed in the deep waters of a comfortable silence.

“Eleven years.”

“We have so, so much to talk about!! Oh, my goodness gracious, I’m going to get my tea. Do you remember about that play I wrote about zombie princes and a dragon witch? You will NOT fucking believe what happened with it!”

“Good thing I have you to explain to me then.” Roman stopped, a gigantic smile taking over his features as he closed his eyes to feel everything even more.

“Yeah, I agree.”

Somewhere in the world Patton and Virgil smiled during their sleep, unable to control themselves when a gigantic wave of pure joy and delight filled every corner of their hearts, coloring it on the most brilliant gleam, just like their stuffed animals resting peacefully on their grip.

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jasontoddiefor · 5 years

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Batfam Fanfic Rec Sunday!

I’ve decided to do something worthwhile with my 1400+ Batfam bookmarks, therefore I welcome you to my first Fanfic Rec Sunday. Every Sunday I guess I’ll recommend fanfictions for a specific theme, AU, trope, etc.

Feel free to request specific themes or AUs and I’ll do my best to search for fitting fanfiction!

(”Oh, I’ve always wanted to read something like a Brooklyn 99 crossover!” ”I’ve got your back, young reader.”)

This week’s theme is Time Travel & Batman Beyond!

And I’ve got 28 amazing fanfics for you below the read more!

Have fun and don’t forget to leave these lovely writers a comment!

Title: A Gift to Cherish Summary: The wonderful thing about being hurdled through time and space is that Jason doesn’t have to deal with the fallout of not listening to Bruce. The awful, terrible, no good very bad part of hurtling through time and space is that he has no idea where he is. It’s all up to wormhole he was thrown into to decide where he gets spit out to. In which Jason is thrown into a future he never came back to, and gets to heal, just a little bit. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20226775

Title: A Good Place Summary: Damian Wayne is kidnapped and sent back years through time. Together, he and Father – who's only been Batman for a mere six months –must figure out how to return him to his own time. Over the course of the next week, Damian discovers that Mexican gangsters do not mess around, that social workers find Bruce annoying, that Bruce might be a little messed up, and that crystal chandeliers create the fondest memories. Oh. And Alfred has hair. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13515501

Title: A hundred miles through the desert Summary: Finding himself nearly three decades into the past hadn't been part of Jason's plans for the day, but he could manage. Having no idea how he got there, no clear path home and a recently orphaned Bruce Wayne determined to drag Jason into his search for his parents' killer - that might be a little more complicated. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18197330

Title: And They’re Only Getting Better Summary: 90's!Tim Drake wakes up in his Red Robin body. Exhausted from a YJ mission, he chooses to focus on getting through a normal day so as not to disrupt things for his future self. But, y'know, his way. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10522401

Title: A Time to Reflect Summary: Bruce finds himself stuck in the past, and while waiting for the league to pick him up, struggles to get along with his past self. Plus being in a practically empty manor is a bigger adjustment than he'd like to admit. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20156707

Title: Back to the Past Summary: Bruce is Robin, his dad isn't Batman though, despite how similar the outfits are. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17237258

Title: Careful what you wish for Summary: Sometimes, Batman can’t help but miss the time when Dick was the one and only Robin. In a world with magical imps, he should have known better. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15009647

Title: Choose - Lose Summary: Tim looked to the empty space where the time traveler had stood, a forgettable man with a forgettable face in a forgettable shabby brown suit, and had made his unforgettable offer. You can save him. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18320876

Title: Cocoa in April Summary: There are strict rules when it comes to time-traveling. But when Dick is faced with an adorable young Bruce when he's accidentally sent back to 1988, he can't resist a conversation. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16888914

Title: death sucks (and then you live) Summary: Red Hood is starting to put some serious plans in motion when he's attacked by a not-so-welcome blast from the past. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15532380

Title: Do Not Stand At My Grave and Weep Summary: I am not here I do not sleep. Terry wants to say he's okay with cemeteries. But taking your kinda boss, kinda mentor, kinda surrogate father-figure to his creepy family cemetery does not make him feel good. He didn't realize just how much Bruce mourns. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19378990

Title: In my arms Summary: There was nothing he could do. Nothing he could change. Those were the rules of the past. Besides, babies cried all the time, even if this was less a cry and more of an angry wail from a little one pushed past its limits. But still. He should have been on his way. He likely would have been, had this been a different home. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20728655

Title: Innocence and experience Summary: What starts as a normal patrol ends up shaking up the world of Young Justice when a boy claiming to be a future Robin drops from the sky while chasing after a man in white. The Team struggles to deal with Damian and the future he represents all the while trying to return him to his rightful time. But for what purpose is this new villain in the past and can Damian and the Team stop him? Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9224534

Title: I Used to Be an Adventurer Like You, Then I Took an Arrow to the Knee Summary: Stephanie was just on patrol and now she’s stuck somewhere, sometime, with Bruce. They bleed and bond and mostly try to keep each other alive— you know, just a Tuesday. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16437716

Title: life, if well lived Summary: Jason wakes up from a time-travel mishap to find Thomas and Martha Wayne hovering over him. Just another day in the life, right? ...Not quite. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18378512

Title: Lost and Found Summary: Bruce is dying. Slowly, painfully. Not going out in a blaze of glory and defiance for a greater purpose. He's caving under the weight of his own age, under the damage he's done to his heart through the years. Terry can't be by his side constantly to do damage control. More than that, he can't watch it happen with no reprieve. But there's no one else. Terry needs help keeping vigil by an ill Bruce's bedside. But the old man had kids once, didn't he? Are the bridges he burned unable to be rebuilt? As he observes, Terry definitely starts to wonder how this family used to be. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12214692

Title: meet the robins Summary: sad little orphan bruce travels to the future and meets the family he’ll have one day :) too bad he can’t stay forever :( Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2685095

Title: Mint Chocolate Chip Summary: Summer vacations have been going on just long enough for Jason to start getting bored, when he gets an unexpected visitor. From the future. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18860545

Title: no one seems to go Summary: “Father,” Bruce mumbles, “I am something of an outlaw.” “Were you always this dramatic, son?” Thomas asks, the bed beneath them shaking as he shifts. “Alfred.” Bruce snorts, shaking his head. “Theatrics are his speciality, remember?” Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15663957

Title: Of your own making Summary: Jason died. Then he came back, forty years too late. It takes time to adjust. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20211523

Title: One Big Batty Family Summary: In which Billy Batson and the McGinnis siblings join the present day Batfam. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1133567

Title: Oops I did it again Summary: "You're insane." Or possibly an insane dream from eating chili dogs before bed. Which one Jason wasn't sure since he had yet to pinch himself. "I'm a member of the longer existing Dead Robins Club that doesn't even give you a lousy shirt. Not shocking Jay." Link: https://archiveofourown.org/series/936921

Title: Raisin Delight Summary: A year after Jason Todd dies, Tim Drake and Bruce Wayne take on the case when they notice strange occurrences in Gotham city. This has disastrous consequences, but so do most things that Tim gets caught up in, so what's new, really. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15644082

Title: Realization Summary: Bruce makes a discovery while conducting a check-up on Terry. Takes place midway through the "Splicers" episode. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/377468

Title: Strange Manor Summary: Bruce let his eyes close to wallow for a moment in worry and fear for Jason. One second, two, three. He opened his eyes. Time to act. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13474308

Title: The Incandescent Rose Summary: Terry McGinnis (the new Batman) impulsively asks marriage proposal advice from his mentor and grumpy father figure Bruce Wayne. When the older man describes a proposal in which he had been yelled at and abandoned, Terry can't help investigate the matter by seeing some of Bruce's most knowledgeable friends and family members. This search prompts someone else into action. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19414228

Title: The Time Travel Problem Summary: Barry Allen and Clark Kent, follow Bruce around during a time travel mission through Gotham City's recent past. If only Bruce would stay focused. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21143081

Title: Younger Bruce, Older Jason Summary: Jason wakes up in the dead of night to an unexpected visitor. (Like you’ve never heard that one before...) Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14867975

#dc #dc comics #batman #batfam #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #terry mcginnis #Tim Drake #Damian Wayne #Stephanie Brown #batfamrecs

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hermits-that-craft · 4 years

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so i came up with a basic story plot on discord if anyone wants to use it (under the cut)

Basically - Fantasy ish au where stress, grian and joe were kidnaped by watchers and there’s a rebellion

have fun, if you want to write it tag me i would forever be in you debt

So, Stress right? She's a princess of sorts, her family rules over a small area and is kind, though their powers are ice and the area is too far north to produce stable crops year round. She's raised with her siblings, and she loves her area with more of her heart then she can ever say. Visitors - friend and foe alike - say that the frozen lands are the kindest and most peaceful areas around.

However, it doesn't stay that way.

Watchers come and ransack her home, kidnapping her and her siblings before anything can be done to stop them. Stress' parents, although not nearly strong enough to fend off watchers, try their hardest to stop the group from taking their children. Nothing comes of their efforts, but the thought is kind and the price is high. Stress won't know what happens to her parents and people for years, but she knows deep down in her heart that there is nothing left of her home.

The watchers train the teens, or they attempt to. Stress was the only one who did not take her leave through unconventional manors. She survived not through perseverance but through stubbornness, and a fear of dying. Her siblings had one or the other, but not both. None of them would bow to the watchers, but Stress played a careful act of pretending that she did.

The watchers, after deciding that Stress had been trained enough, allowed her to share a room with two other people. Those people were two men who had suffered a similar fate as she did. They had survived where others had not, and now they were chosen by the watchers to room together.

The first few months were tough, Stress had no way of knowing if Xelqua or Poet shared her views and it was clear to her that they didnt fully trust her or each other as well. It was only when, in a moment of stupidity or forgetfulness, Stress sang a song that her sisters would sing that the group stared to warm up to each other. They spoke freely as they could, Poet knowing enough magic to block off the watchers control and Xelqua know enough magic to block any noise from their rooms. Stress told them her real name, and she discovered that Poet is a man named Joe Hills, who hails from a small island that doesn't have a proper name, though he calls the town 'Tennessee' and his house 'Nashville'. He was of noble decent and was a powerful wordsmith, so when the watchers came and ransacked his home they took him as well.

Xelqua, she discovered, was a man by the name of Grian. Grian was chaotic, a prankster and a thief who lived in a large city. His family was rich but not noble of character, and the avian took to stealing things from his home and reselling it to gift the money to any poor people he came across. He was taken as a teen as well, and taught by watchers in a similar way to Stress, with some people who were kidnapped from the streets with him. He struggles to call those people 'friends' after Taurtis and Sam, his closest confidants and best friends, betrayed his thoughts to the watchers, and fell for the watchers propaganda. Grian refuses to talk about what the watchers did to him, but Stress can tell from the scars on his back and his clipped wings that it was something that shouldn't be repeated.

The group holds fast to each other, trying desperately to both stay alive and stay themselves in the hellscape that is the watchers home. Stress plays her role well, as the only person who was raised in royal courts she knows how to bow to someone who does not deserve it. Joe and Grian both struggle, their morals overtaking their abilities to keep themselves out of harms way. It is only after the watchers realise that to hit them where is hurts, so to speak, would be to hurt someone they care for that they learn to act.

Stress doesn't lose hopes, though she knows that the world outside is different to how it was, she refuses to lose her hope. When Grian questions her about it, she tells him that its the only way to stay herself in a place like this. Joe only listens, nodding along but not saying anything, though when he is questioned on it he agrees with Stress. He had been with the watchers for less time than Stress and Grian had, having been taken as an adult, but he also lost his entire family to the watchers.

Stress finds herself considering the two men her brothers, her found family that is there for her, and she begins to worry about losing them. She doesn't want to, she finds it so unfair that she should lose another brother, another friend, to the watchers that killed her family, that she withdraws from them. Of course, they notice, and it doesn't do anything except to make them worried for her. Eventually, through either necessity or through accident, Stress tells them about it. The two men understand, telling her that they consider her a sister as well, and Grian jokes about finally having siblings. The group holds onto each other, that night, letting each other talk over how they feel.

News doesn't come to the group often, the watchers trickling news to them as though they are children that needn't hear about the negative things happening in the world. However, news of a rebellion reaches their ears through the whispers and mutterings that echo throughout the keep. They hold fast to the hope of a rebellion, to the idea of freedom. They don't speak of it often, nor do they think on these ideal, but at night they find themselves dreaming of freedom. Stress sings more, Grian offers to show the two around his home city, and Joe tells tales of the vineyard that he grew up in.

While tales of the rebellion spreads, the small group is forced through tests and experiments that give them more powers that they cannot fathom to use. Stress wakes one morning with wings and the ability to control plants. Joe wakes, a week laters, with wings and the ability to see snippets of the future. Grian wakes with the ability to control water and, to an extent, others minds. The group prays for freedom to come soon, to let them leave without the watchers finding them, or hurting their siblings in their absence.

That freedom comes sooner than expected for Joe, who disappears in the night, leaving his siblings behind without a word. It's too dangerous to take them where he was going, so he kisses their foreheads and disappears into the void-like mist surrounding the watcher's home.

The watchers never mention Joe again, not even blinking when he doesn't appear at the breakfast. They don't bring up 'poet' or hold Stress or Grian accountable for his sudden flight from their cell. Stress and Grian can't, don't, won't try to understand why the watchers dont ask them anything, as the only answer that the pair can come up with is that Joe is now one of the people they lost, part of a seemingly ever-growing number of dead.

Stress stops dreaming of freedom, letting herself harden under the pressure of the watchers. She will not become one of their weapons, nor will she become one of their diamonds, but she cannot let herself sleep while Grian could disappear. Grian stops asking her about tales of her home, and Stress stops singing. Tales of rebellions no longer fall into their ears.

The tests all but stop, and Stress finds herself falling into a dreamless sleep the second she makes it to her bed. She doesn't lose hope, but she doesn't gain any. There is seemingly nothing that can calm her until her head hits her pillow.

It's during one of these sleeps when Grian leaves, a note tucked under her pillow telling her that he'll be back, that he loves her, and that the rebellion is still around.

Stress cries when she reads the letter, holding it close to her before burning it. Once more, the watchers don't mention her brother, and Stress is alone again, dreaming of a freedom that she can't believe will happen for her, of a rebellion she refuses to believe will come for her. Stress can't fall into work, can't do anything as the tests stop happening and she is confined to the room that she was trapped in, food delivered to her by the watchers. Stress draws, grows plants and summons ice that she sculpts into her siblings, biological or otherwise. She lives like that, her life in limbo as she waits for the watchers to decide what to do with her. Whatever the answer is, she will walk towards it with her head high. She doesn't fear death anymore, though she doesn't want to die. She does, however, fear what will become of her if the watchers decide she isn't worth their resources.

One day, news of the rebellion reaches her ears. It's from one of the watchers who brings her food, the one that wears black headphones with blue and red checkers on them, not the cruel one with the rabbit ears. He tells her, an unsettling smile on his face, that "all of the watchers here are leaving to finally squash the rebellion. you'll be safe, once we're back we'll ba able to make you a full watcher as well. congratulations, you're the the only one of your class to succeed!". Stress cries at those words, and the watcher takes them as happy tears instead of the mournful tears that they actually are.

The watchers leave that night, the rabbit eared watcher providing her with three days food an instructions only to leave her rooms if the food runs out. She doesn't believe that the food will run out, but she thanks him anyways. She needs to make a plan to escape before that watchers come back.

The next day, the watcher's building is silent, save for the few rooms that Stress occupies. She sings for the first time in months, perhaps in years, in the empty castle. Any song is worth singing, as it fills the time and the unsettling silence. She sings songs from her home, tunes Grian taught her that the street performers would sing in his city, and ballads that Joe wrote for his home before he was abducted. Her plants flourish as she sings, and her sculptures almost appear to move.

The only thing thats stops her songs and revelry is an explosion, close by the wing of the castle in which she is imprisoned. Footsteps, loud, heavy and armoured, echo down the halls as people run through the castle. Stress falls silent, fear eating at her brain as she tries desperately to hide in a place that neither the watchers, nor any intruders, could find her. Joe had once shown her a small corner in which the stones were loose enough for her to wriggle her way into the wall, and Stress flees into the hiding place, praying that no one will look for her.

The footsteps stop in front of her door and voices echo indecipherably through the hall. Stress can't properly understand what they were saying, but she doesn't have to wait to find out as the door is thrown open, falling to the ground with a loud clang. Stress spies through the crack in the stone as people enter the room, their backs towards her.

There are five people in total, two women and three men. One of the women has blonde hair tied into a long plait down her back, brown pants and a green jacket on. A leather strap goes around her head and Stress assumes its goggles. The other woman is a zombie with green patchwork skin and flame like orange hair, wearing shorts and a blueish jumper than falls off her shoulders. One of the men wears armour thats green, the only thing that Stress can properly decipher from him is that his helmet glows from the front. A different man IS green, with a metal arm and leg and a lab coat over his chest. The final man wears a bright green jumper with a brown vest, and jeans on. The group talks amongst themselves, looking through the room for something thats Stress can't decipher. The man in the armour turns around, and Stress can properly see his eyes through the blue visor. They appear to be purple, marking him as a powerful void walker. Stress holds her breath, praying that he can't see her as the man brings his wrist up to his face.

"We can't find her, can you come here and look for her yourself?"

Stress feels tears in her eyes as the man speaks into his communicator. The two women sit down on the seat that Stress and her brothers would sit on, and Stress can see how the women look. The group, for people breaking into a watcher building, a watcher castle at that, appears remarkably calm, the two women joking around and laughing as footsteps echo through the halls. The green man, along with the the man in the green jumper, lean on the wall, talking to each other as though they had met on the streets and wished to catch up. Stress finds herself longing for that sort of interaction, though she knows that these people could be naught but dangerous to her even if they weren't hunting her.

The footsteps make their way into the building, two people in cloaks entering the room. The cloaks are drawn up, making them indecipherable to Stress, though she knows that they aren't watchers as one of the cloaks is a vibrant red, with the other one being a bright blue. The person in the blue cloak walks to the man in the green armour, as the one in the red finds their way to the two men leaning against the wall. The person in the blue cloak turns around, removing his cloak hood as he looks at Stress, and the woman in the wall chokes out a sob, startling the people in the room.

Joe is alive.

Joe helps Stress out of the wall and she throws herself into a hug with the man, wrapping her wings around the man. The group looks shocked at the pair, and Joe mumbles to her that he's refused hugs from them even after Grian found them. Grian joins the hug as well, the siblings finally reunited. Joe tells her about the rebellion, and how they are fighting to take down the watchers as they make their way to the ship that Xisuma, the man in the green armour, runs. Stress asks where she can join the rebellion. Xisuma laughs and tells her that she already has.

Stress, one day, asks the hermits if she could find out what happened to her home. Joe and Grian both exchange worried looks, though the hermits all agree to go to her the Frozen Lands to see her home, taking Grian and Joe's silences as agreement. Joe didn't tell the hermits that his visited Nashville before he joined them, though he spoke to Grian and Stress of the devastation that was left on his home, how the only thing left of the house his family lived in was the flooring, burnt and bloodied and faded with age. Grian has also confined in Stress and Joe that Evo, the city in which he lived in, wasn't the same when he returned, the people either close to kneeling over due to starvation or unnaturally healthy, glowing in a way that didn't seem normal nor natural. Stress doesn't care for their concern about her home, false hope screaming at her that her cousins or other family members would be there, ruling over the town and lands.

When the hermits arrive, Stress rushes a head of them, ignoring the concern and fear that falls from the groups mouths. But instead of running into the loving embrace of her families arms, Stress arrives to a wasteland covered in ice and ash. Stress bolts down the streets she played in as a child, sliding on ice as she makes her way to the manor that she grew up in.

Instead of the familiar structure that she expected, nothing stands except the door the main entrance. Her families crest, a simple snowflake, that was carved into the spruce wood doors is burnt into the crest of the watchers, a clear message to anyone who found their way to the manor.

Stress collapses at the door, wailing at not only the loss of her family but at the loss of her home.

The hermits find her their, her wailing subsiding into sobs as her new brothers help her to her feet, helping her to make her way to the ship that she had been living in. Nothing feels real, not for a long time for Stress, her hope waning as she realises what had happened to her family. Stress finds herself helping Joe in the medical bay of the ship, her healing magic far more potent than his was, and Stress finds herself enjoying the work. She makes fast friends out of Cleo, False and Iskall as the three of them visit her often, either with injuries or with anecdotes. For most of the hermits, what had happened to Stress' home was something they had only heard of in the stories of refugees, as only Etho, Wels, Grian, Joe and Xisuma truely understood what had happened to her home.

The hermits, the rebels, knew that they had to free more people, and Stress often accompanied Xisuma and Wels on their more diplomatic missions, her title of Princess aiding them as they gather allies. Wels also teaches her how to fight, and jokingly suggests that she should knight him as the knight for her kingdom, as his kingdom is ruled by a tyrant that wants nothing more than to watch her people suffer. Stress does knight him, giving him the status that he needs to get them respect of other knights as the champion of the Frozen Lands.

The next few years are spent in careful planning, Stress, Wels and Xisuma being the kindhearted faces of the rebellion as Cleo, False, Grian and Joe being the hard hitting fighters who invade watcher buildings and burn them down, as Iskall, Cub and Scar gather information about watchers through means that Stress doesn't know and doesn't care to find out.

One day, at a party that Stress, Xisuma and Wels were invited to, and that Grian, Joe and False had tagged along to the two watchers that fed Stress appear, not only looking for a fight but for victims to bring back to the watchers.

Stress didn't feel anything at the sight of the watchers, simply stating that they had been the ones to feed her, though Grian's eyes flashed purple as he laid eyes on them. Of course, the group fought the watchers, Stress helping the people to evacuate the building before she joined the fray.Grian fought harder than anyone else did, throwing himself into the fray when he shouldn't have. The rabbit watcher taunted him, and the one that wore the headphones laughed as Grian struggled to fight them, not letting anyone get close to them. The rabbit eared watcher threw a spear through Grian's wing, grounding the man. Grian doesn't saying anything as the rest of the hermits join the fight, Stress focussing on healing his wing.

"Why would you fight them alone, you dumbass." She asked him, tears in her eyes. "Thats Sam and Taurtis." The second the reply hit her ears, Stress stands, her wings flapping. She holds the spear in her hands as she flies up, summoning ice and vines to the room. Joe helps the hermits to a corner of the room as Stress traps the two traitors in vines and ice. "What do you want me to do with them, Grian?" Stress asks, and the man shrugs, a dark look in his eyes. "They're watchers, they've already sealed their fates."

Stress doesn't remember what happened next, though according to False and Wels it was 'the most badass' thing that they had ever seen. According to Xisuma, however, it was a safety hazard. Stress doesn't really care, though she's prefer that the next time she grow plants in peoples lungs and explodes their veins with ice she wouldn't wake up in the blood and ice of her victims.

The group becomes folk heroes in that kingdom, and they soon find themselves becoming better known in other lands as well as they defeat more and more watchers, before the only ones left are the ones that kidnapped Stress, Grian and Joe.

It took a while to find the last watchers. There was so few left of them that no one, not even Iskall, Scar and Cub could find information on the group, and while Stress, Joe and Grian were being heralded as heroes who defied the odds and survived the watchers, they couldn't rest. Stress would often find Grian planning intricate traps with Mumbo and Iskall, and she'd always have to make sure that Joe wasn't wordsmithing disaster onto their course. Of course, everyone would find Stress fussing over any injured people, to the point where it was obvious that she was too nervous for her own good. It was during one of these sessions with Cleo where the zombie worked out - or perhaps told the ex watcher - exactly what Stress what thinking.

"You hate them." Cleo smiles. "I want them locked up, where they can never hurt anyone ever again." Stress spits, trying to calm herself down. "You want them dead, don't you?" "I never said that!" Stress protests, though in her heart she knows it's true. "Don't worry, I think that they deserve it."

It took Stress a while to convince herself that she wasn't evil for wanting that. Or more so, it took False, Iskall, Grian, Cleo, Wels, Joe and Xisuma a while to convince Stress she wasn't evil for wishing death onto the watchers. But she was never fully convinced, and just when the hermits believed that she had finally believed them, Stress vanished into the night just as Joe and Grian had left her, a note being the only thing she left behind.

She knows where the watchers are, she knows exactly where she needs to go to finish this, and she knows that she cannot loose anymore people to the watchers, to that building, the one that the watchers had first held her and her siblings in. The one hidden in the frozen wastes beyond her home town. It's a long fight, one that she battles alone until she's near dead, captured by watchers once more. When all seems lost, her brothers appear, tearing down the doors and saving her before the watcher can deliver the final blow. Grian tore into the watchers as Joe heals her, and Stress spies the hermits from the corner of her eyes. The hermits battle as Stress struggles to breath, the curse that was placed on her slowly eating away at her energy. Tears prick at her eyes, too tired to even fall out of her eyes. She watches, almost as though she isn't in her body, as False and Cleo deliver the final blow, killing the watcher with a well placed spear to the throat. Energy floods back into Stress as she bolts up, the curse dying with the watcher that placed it.

There are celebrations throughout the world as the hermits make their way across, telling everyone of the good news. Stress, Grian and Joe are shown some of the survivors of their homes, and Stress makes her first speech as queen declaring that the island 'Tennessee' and the city 'Evo' are now states of the Frozen Lands. Soon, the lands that the other hermits were from join the Frozen lands, and Stress makes more announcements welcoming places into her ever growing country. The world changes as people make their way to the Frozen Lands, hoping for the home that is boasted about.

Stress' last declaration as queen of the frozen lands is stunning, a hope filled promise of home.

"I do not claim to know that the future holds, nor do I promise that it will be good, but today I speak to you all, not as a queen, but as a friend. The Frozen Lands is no more. Today, we join the Hermit States. You will chose your leader, not born of blood but of your decisions."

It was not a surprise to anyone but Stress when she was voted in as Empress, with Scar as her second in command. Joe finds home in books of poetry and song, and Grian finds life in regrowing his home into a better place.

Stress finds a family in the hermits, and the hermits find hope in Stress

#stressmonster101 #grian #joehills #joe hills #hermitcraft #hermitcraft au #story ideas

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witchkings · 4 years

Text

The Chaining of Melkor Reloaded

For @eol who’s been asking for morosexual!Mairon for forever and who also came up with this fun modern AU scenario. Hope you enjoy!

AO3

Mairon liked to lie which was probably why he was such an outstanding lawyer. He lied to the money-thick, disgusting men whose tax fraud cases he represented in telling them that they would go back to their life of luxury soon. He lied to their wives when they asked him whether he knew of any affairs their husbands might pursue in telling them that no, of course not, he was loyal. He lied to the Starbucks barista ever so often, claiming they had gotten his order wrong so they would give him a refund.

But most of all, Mairon lied to himself. He told himself that being a junior partner in his firm was enough, that he did not have to make it as a state attorney, that he did not want to be a full partner or, better yet, have his own firm. He told himself he didn’t miss his family who lived across the ocean, miss the gloomily luminous charm of England and his endless number of siblings whom he had left to turn his long-distance relationship into one where the only separating space was that between the two mattresses on their California King size because Melkor hadn’t yet gotten around to ordering a single big one. The list went on.

The biggest lie Mairon told himself frequently was this: he was not attracted by stupidity, on the contrary, he dated a man of vast intelligence and many a notable achievement. Melkor’s pretty face was merely a bonus. It was a precarious construction, teetering and nearly brought down in instances when Melkor couldn’t name the current president, managed to wedge himself in between the car and the garage door again, or confused their for there for they’re for the umpteenth time, but he always made up for it. Melkor had an important job as the CEO of a real estate firm, he was as rich as they got without going into politics and participating in lobbyism. Melkor owned a whole library of books on various topics. Melkor was a man of standard and intellect and Mairon would not let himself be told any differently.

That was until he got back from the office one night, it was a Wednesday, he would later recall, the anniversary of their first chat on Facebook, to find a patrol car on the curb in front of their house. A lanky cop leaned against it, munching on a hamburger.

“Good evening,” Mairon said, putting on his pleasant voice. The one that hooked him his clients. “Can I help you, officer?”

“Finally, we could not reach your phone, mobile or office, and I’ve been waiting for you to get home,” the officer replied, crumbs flying. “This is about your client.”

“What client?” Mairon asked. He had been in a conference, that much was true, his phone still in flight mode, but if any client of his had done something that would involve the police needing to approach Mairon, they would have come to the office, surely.

“Mr. ah,” the cop stopped and consulted a wrinkly piece of paper in his breast pocket. “Mr. Melkor Bauglir. We’ve arrested him for vehicular manslaughter. Apparently, he was, and I quote, ‘not sure how to put in the reverse gear on his car and had to exit his parking spot by driving across the sidewalk’. He apparently lost control of the vehicle when a dog jumped in front of it, hit the brakes and swerved to the right where he ran the car into a construction side, causing the death of one and serious injury of four other construction workers.”

Mairon blinked. Then he brushed past the cop and went into their shared house without a word of reply. This was all just a silly dream, he told himself as he uncorked the wine he had saved for a particularly fine evening. Horrifying would do too. Just a dream.

“You really had to go ahead and kill someone,” Mairon said in place of a greeting as he sat down on the panic-red plastic chair in front of the thick glass and picked up the receiver. He tried not to think about how many people had vented their frustration into it before him and how much of the subsequent spittle still crusted its edges. Melkor sat on the other side, his orange inmate overall clashing violently with his pallor so that he looked a little like he had a mild case of jaundice. His black hair hung in streaks down his front, his mouth was thin, lips nearly invisible. It had been three days since the cop had approached Mairon, and he had refused to see Melkor in that time, had only yielded because his boyfriend had sounded so hollow and miserable over the phone and because the house seemed too empty without him. “You look like hell.”

“Of course, I look like hell, I’m stuck in a dumpster,” Melkor muttered, eyes narrowed.

“It’s your own fault,” Mairon supplied, and when that got him no answer, he dropped his voice to a whisper. “Look, they won’t let you out on bail. Apparently, the construction site belonged to the city so they’re going to sue the living daylight out of you and plead for a lifelong sentence.”

“No big deal.” Melkor swatted at the air as if to make away with the charges like with a nasty mosquito.

“Quite the big deal, if you ask me,” Mairon grated, teeth pressed together. He had to be back in the office in twenty minutes and Melkor didn’t even seem concerned.

“I’m sure you’ll manage to free me of all charges. Perks of having an up and coming lawyer for your boyfriend.”

“Melkor, listen to me,” Mairon said, leaning forward, He pressed his forefinger into the glass. “I cannot take your case, our relationship forbids it.”

“But if we’re not married-“

“Doesn’t matter, if they get a whiff of our relationship, it may discredit my whole case and you’ll truly be stuck. I can’t represent you, love, I’m sorry.”

That got Melkor to finally sit straight. Panic poured through the line as he spoke, and it twisted the knot in Mairon’s throat.

“But, but. I can’t stay here. You have to get me out. Don’t you know someone? Anyone? Mairon, do something,” Melkor shrieked, jumping up. In an instant, three guards were on him, restraining him and he was dragged out of sight before there was a chance to reply.

Mairon rolled his eyes and slammed the phone back into its hanging, blood boiling. He strode out of the visitor’s room and left the prison behind, fuming with rage and frustration and underneath those layers, a spark that blossomed in the depths of his belly.

“What a moron,” he muttered as he slid into the driver’s seat of his Mercedes. “What an utter moron.”

Mairon took a deep, shaky inhale to steady himself. He stood before the polished door of his colleague’s office space, not a junior partner yet, but surely on his way, and knocked.

“Come in,” came the smooth reply, and Mairon pushed it open, forcing his facial muscles to relax, thought of how funny it had been when Melkor had meant to replace the toilet seat in the guest bathroom and had accidentally pulled the whole thing out of the wall. Somehow, it didn’t get the job done though. Mairon’s mood only soured further. “Mairon, pal, sit, sit. Have a good lunch?”

Angmar sat in his high-backed chair, a ridiculous expense, his fingertips stapled together in front of his face. His hair was combed back, and his beard neatly trimmed. He smelled like burnt tea.

“Ah, you know how sensible my stomach can be, I’m afraid I had to revert back to grilled cheese,” Mairon lied in reply. Considering the whole debacle at the prison, he hadn’t had the chance to eat at all and his intestines were screaming with abandonment.

“Good old grilled cheese, a national symbol if ever I’ve seen one. I myself had two orders of California Rolls from the best sushi place in town, you know the one. But anyway, look at me, blabbing on. Back to work now, ain’t it? What can I do for you my friend?” Angmar grinned, exposing a set of pearly whites with one gold tooth to the upper left. Mairon remembered that evening, though he would have preferred not to. He cleared his throat, thinking it might be best to get to the point.

“Melkor managed to get himself into jail,” Mairon began and watched the shock unfold on Angmar’s face with slight impatience. “Vehicular manslaughter, destruction of property, mayhem, and a couple minor charges. No bail accepted, and I can’t defend his case.”

Angmar’s eyebrows rose. Then he burst out into hollering laughter.

“Please, Angmar, I know it sounds funny, but this is my boyfriend we’re talking about,” Mairon said calmly, though his insides were fuming. Then, he remembered Angmar’s weakness for a good love story, and put on the teary face. “And it was an accident, I mean. He would never actually want to hurt anyone.” Not something Mairon was confident in. “And we had meant to go on this big vacation and I think perhaps he wanted to propose and now he’s in prison, I can’t believe it.” Mairon sobbed, burying his face in his hands. If this didn’t get Angmar, then he would have to butter on the praise. But the laughter died instantly.

“Geez, I’m so sorry, Mairon, that’s truly horrible. How can I help?”

“Take his case. You’re the only chance I have.” He peered out between his fingers. Angmar was tapping his lips with a pencil, staring at the ceiling. “He’s very rich,” Mairon added.

“Consider it done,” Angmar said. He patted Mairon’s shoulder over the desk.

“We’ll find another way,” Mairon said, reaching out over the sterile plastic table he and Melkor occupied. Now that Melkor was a permanent resident of the facility and had distinguished himself through well-adjusted behavior – meaning he rarely did anything, ever – they got to meet without the glass between them. Hand-holding was the absolute maximum though, and Melkor’s skin was dry, full of tiny rashes when Mairon touched it. Melkor stared down at their hands, his gaze glazed over.

“I’ll rot in here.” And Melkor had every right to claim that. Angmar had done a fantastic job, but the city had had too many of its own pawns in the game, and there had never been a chance. Melkor would lose half of his fortune, would have to serve a reduced sentence of seven years and have to do civic work for another three. It was better than life-long, but Mairon would not stand it.

“No, you won’t,” Mairon promised. “We’ll find another way.”

He twisted his hand so the folded in Swiss pocket knife he had bought that morning pressed into Melkor’s hand. Melkor’s brow furrowed, then he pulled back his hand with the tool and brought it close to his face to inspect it. It lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Quick, hide it,” Mairon hissed, but too late. As Melkor flipped the thing open, blade gleaming in the harsh fluorescent light, a guard stormed towards them, gun at Melkor’s temple before anyone else could realize what was happening.

“DROP THE KNIFE INMATE,” the guard screamed, spittle flying. Melkor complied.

“Sorry,” he said to Mairon with a small, apologetic smile. Mairon pinched the bridge of his nose. Moments later, Melkor was gone from the room and an escort was sent to take Mairon out of the prison.

He was barred from visits for the next three months, and that memory of Melkor’s skin against his, the soft plains of his awed expression as he had realized Mairon’s plans were all he had to cling to, all that kept him company at night when he was doomed to fulfill his own aching desires.

Without volition on Mairon’s part nor with active awareness on Melkor’s, it got to be a pattern.

Mairon slipped Melkor a written note on the security systems which he had procured after dissolving into tears at his colleague’s Gothmog’s desk who had worked a case to do with an escaped inmate once. Gothmog had let Mairon review the file under the guise of research for a new client and Mairon had jotted down the most vital points so that Melkor could work on an escape plan with all the free time he had. Melkor mistook the note for trash and discarded of it in the visitation room’s bin.

Then, he sent large sums of money onto Melkor’s prison bank account so he could buy some of the guards’ favors and Melkor used it all on communal bathroom slippers and toothpaste because his got stolen so frequently, he needed new ones by the day. If he had been any more inclined towards intentional violence, Melkor could have reigned that place, but all his aggressions were accidental. He had a lot more enemies than friends in that place. In general, now that Mairon thought about it.

Later, Mairon brought candy spiked with narcotics for Melkor to distribute amongst the guards and slip out of the prison in the ensuing disruption, but Melkor forgot about the contents. He ate the whole bag himself which meant Mairon received a call at three in the morning informing him that Melkor had fallen into a coma and was unlikely to ever wake up again. He did, eventually, but Mairon was careful to change tactics.

He dug up shady details about other inmates’ lives so Melkor could blackmail them into helping him organize an escape plan or a riot or really anything that would provide an opportunity for Melkor to get out. In true fashion, Melkor mixed up the inmate’s names and, rather than threatening anyone, insulted a lot of people which resulted in him becoming the victim of a planned attack. No pudding for a whole week.

The list went on and on, and every night that Mairon went to bed alone, jerked off under angry tears and cursed the day he had clicked on Melkor’s profile, a part of him died.

“I’ve had enough of this,” Mairon announced once upon a visit. His nose was red and runny from the biting cold outside and the first snow had fallen the prior weekend, an emissary of the loneliest holidays he would ever celebrate. He had half a mind to go back to England, just for Christmas, but he couldn’t well leave Melkor here to rot on his own. No, he was devoted and not at all happy about it.

“Enough of what?” Melkor asked. He looked the same as he always did, orange cloth in constant warfare with his taint, his hair open, greasy, now down to his waistline. The prison hairdresser only dropped in once every six months. Their hands lay on the table, twined together, no space between them and it felt to Mairon like he was stranded in a desert, half dead from thirst and only given drops of sea water to drink. He needed to feel Melkor’s mouth, his face, his chest, his cock which no dildo had yet been able to replace. He needed for this nightmare to be over and for Melkor to come home, abandoned though it was as Mairon spent almost all day at work or at various begrudging friends’ houses so he wouldn’t be alone.

“Enough of waking up to a cold mattress beside me, enough of cooking too much because I forget I’m by myself now, enough of fingering myself in the bathtub pretending you’re with me.”

A guard near them cleared his throat noisily.

“I have apologized extensively,” Melkor said, shrugging. “Believe me, if I could, I would bend you over this very table and have my way, but alas. Rules.”

The guard spluttered, but Mairon ignored him.

“There might be a way. Ever heard of a conjugal visit?”

“A what now?”

Mairon explained it patiently, thinking himself clever, and accentuated this whole idea with a sheet of paper he pulled out of his bag. Melkor’s expression darkened, his eyes stormy-wild, his mouth set.

“What is that?” he growled.

“Paperwork. I’ll have the guard lend us a pen and we can seal it right here and now.”

“That’s the worst proposal ever,” Melkor muttered and retracted the hand that was holding Mairon’s to cross his arms over his chest.

“It’s the only one either of us is going to get in the next five years or so. At best. Face it, Melkor, you ruined any prospects of a proper wedding with your accident.” Mairon leaned back, tapping the paper with a nail. “If we sign this, at least we get to fuck ever so often.”

“No.”

“Sorry?” Mairon smiled, thinking of a hundred different ways he wanted to make Melkor sign the papers already. He had been patient, clever, smart, loving, supportive. He had not left Melkor, was going to stick through this with him. And here he was, this boyfriend he had sacrificed everything for, denying him the simplest of carnal pleasures.

“I am not marrying you in a prison’s visitation room,” Melkor said, a finality in his voice that had Mairon wish he could turn back time or at the very least, make Melkor understand that this wasn’t the place for romantic touches.

“You should,” he said through gritted teeth, anger flaring. His stress levels were through the roof.

“No. Absolutely not. I’d rather wait and run on fantasies of you than throw away something so special. You can only get married once.”

“That’s not-“

“End of discussion,” Melkor said and gestured for the guard to lead him out of the room.

The solution Mairon came up with was, perhaps, far from ideal and very costly, but it was the only one he saw, the only scenario in which he wouldn’t go insane with longing. Mairon bought a rifle, waited for nightfall, and snuck into the nearest air base. Then he only had to apply what was left of Melkor’s savings to impress upon the right people. A prison selection here, a cell assignment there, and wouldn’t you know. They dressed him in that horrid orange, gave him a bedroll and lead him to a sorry, colorless room with two cods, a few shelves on the walls and his boyfriend, idling away.

“Oh god,” Melkor gasped, sitting up. Mairon laughed as he was shoved into the cell, stumbling into Melkor’s chest. They fall back against the creaky, hard prison bed, Mairon on top of Melkor who still wore a startled expression. “What did you do?”

“Aggravated theft of a military vehicle,” Mairon said, feeling rather proud to have pulled it off. He would have gotten away with it too if he hadn’t gambled for them to catch him trying to escape.

“You are impossible,” Melkor laughed.

“And you a moron.”

They met in a soft, exploring kiss, the first in forever, the first in a million. All the time in the world to make up for the last year or so.

“I love you for going to prison with me,” Melkor panted into the crook of Mairon’s neck later that night.

“And I love you for…” Mairon paused, trying to think of something redeeming about this situation other than the bites littering his chest, the rigid cock that pounded into him with reckless abandon. He came up short, but that was okay. “For you. I love you for you.”

#tolkien #silmarillion #angbang #melkor #morgoth #mairon #sauron #crack #modern au #at least melkor has a pretty face #my writing

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reylofanfictionanthology · 4 years

Photo

For one is love and both are one in love is now live!

Authors will be revealed next week! For now all fics are anonymous. Treats can be posted through author reveals on 2/21. We will post an updated masterpost at that time.

For one is love and both are one in love collection on AO3 | Gift Fic Master Post Part Two | Treats Masterpost

Gifts Fic Master Post Part One:

ghosts on the shore for aaronBursar

“I meant what I said to you that day on the Death Star. I thought I could never go back. I still think it even now—that I don’t belong here, that I never will.” “But you did come back,” she said, squeezing his hand. “You’re here now. With me. You chose it. Despite everything, we made it, both of us.” They sat in silence for awhile, hands clasped while they watched the camp clear as people finally turned in for the night. Then, suddenly, Ben was struck with an idea. “What if we took a trip?”

Sugar High for abbytheatre08

When Maz Kanata hosts five weeks of a Battle of the Bands competition, Rey Johnson and Kylo Ren find themselves both pitted against one another, and drawn together as the weeks go on.

Delayed For A While for aionimica

Death cannot stop love. All it can do is delay it awhile.

I am ready to follow you even though I don't know where for AlwaysEverlark

Her closest friends want Rey to move on from what happened on Exegol, but she refuses to accept that Ben Solo, her soulmate in the Force, is dead. Instead, she undertakes a rescue mission to bring Ben home--no matter the risk.

A More Perfect Union for america_oreosandkitkats

Rey, new to DC, tags along to a stuffy networking event with her friend -- they're both poor and, hell, there's free booze. Ben, a recruiter for the lobbyist firm he works for, finds the intern with the soft voice and angry eyes a fun challenge -- especially when he finds out she works for his estranged mother Senator Leia Organa.

In the Den of the Darkwolf for Amy326

Rey awakened in the darkwolf’s den.

happy cockus day for andabatae

She prefers the nip of New Hampshire winters, heavy winds blowing in her hair, being bundled up in three layers with pens whose ink freeze fast and thaw slow. She loves warm buildings, and Christmas breaks, and slurping down huge bowls of ramen in the evenings, but being on the ground, a clipboard in her hand, boots on a voter’s doorstep? That’s where she knows she belongs. So there are a lot of things going against Rey Johnson’s introduction to Ben Solo, his moody personality probably the least of her worries, since he’s the reason she’s not outside, making some sort of tangible effort to get his mother elected as president.

Hope Lives for aNerdObsessed

This AU story takes place right after the Battle of Exegol, Rey and Ben have just defeated Palpatine and they are both seriously injured but not mortally wounded. When all hope is lost for them as there is no one coming to get them, old friends of the past come to their aid.

Two Bits (or The Haircut) for Ann3onymous

Three days into their marriage of convenience, Ben and Rey are maybe starting to realize that there’s more to this arrangement than a green card or a cooperative board of directors.

We've Got a Good Thing Here for Anysia

Rey & Ben Solo navigate their feelings in the aftermath of the end of the war. With Ben a "functionally dead" force ghost, Rey has to come to terms with how she will balance restoring liberty to the galaxy and making her relationship with Ben work in a... physical sense. It's a difficult enough task to begin with, and it doesn't help that every time they're alone someone seems to require Rey for something.

Event Horizon for Apisa_B

Rey runs into Kylo Ren on a mission for the Resistance, and they have to work together against their wishes. This would be simple... if working together didn't involve pretending to be married, sharing a hotel room, and a lot of unresolved feelings.

still caught in yesterday's wake for Apricot

Her heart is heavy with fear—fear that one day she will no longer be able to recall the shape of Ben’s face, or the timbre of his voice, or the exact color of his eyes; that her memory of him will fade until she is left with nothing but the pain of his absence, like some phantom limb that aches and aches and aches, relentlessly.

A Dark Day Dream for ArdeaJestin

Ben's come home, but Rey can't face him. Not because of anything he's done, at least not in real life. But in her fantasies? oh yes.

Become Who You Were Meant to Be for Aurae

Kylo is a fighter both by training and by preference. Tactics, not strategy. Action, not discussion. Every instinct in him wants to solve his problems by grabbing his sword and shedding some blood. But those easy days are behind him now. He has a galaxy to run. It would be easier if only he could stop thinking about her.

The Spaces Inbetween for Ayrith (freijya)

It wasn’t the first time. Not the first since Crait and she saw him kneeling and their eyes met with anger and ache and want and everything else they didn’t have to say. No. Not the first, nor the second, nor even the third. This was a well trodden path that they all walked over and over. As if the Force was taking their hands and despite both of them tearing it away, still trying to bring them together. --- Rey and Kylo have been dealing with the Force bond for some time, but it finally reaches a tipping point.

The Least Of What I Could Do for benperor-ren (winterelf86)

"I refuse to play opposite someone who has never had a part in their entire life," sneers Ben. "Either Rey goes or I do."

Niima's for bensolosredemption

Though Niima's is a questionable establishment, it's always been Ben's favorite bar. It's not just because he's inexplicably attracted to the new bartender, either - though he has to admit she might have something to do with it.

Devil Spawn for Biekewieke

After a hot anonymous encounter at The Annual Organa Halloween Ball, Rey realizes she slept with the horrible guy who is her new boss. But he doesn't recognize her! And he asks her to track down his mystery hookup, which she totally agrees to do (wink wink, haha, she's lying). But then she finds out she's pregnant! GASP! What's a scared, pregnant single girl to do? (Other than take a nap because she's exhausted.)

Belonging for bitterbones

Friends-with-benefits except whoops I'm in love with you now and hate seeing you flirt with other people because we're technically not together.

Paradise for bittersnake

For two people whose souls are inseparably united, the question of sex shouldn't be that complicated. Given Ben and Rey's individual histories, however, it really comes as no surprise. But that's all right. They’ll have their whole lives together to figure it out, if Rey and Ben and possibly several hundred generations’ worth of Jedi ghosts have anything to say about the matter. Which they do.

Miss Johnson & the Professor for blackheretic (redlondons)

Her heart wants to erupt through her throat, and she audibly gulps, trying to keep her gaze from the only place it wants to go. Thank fuck his eyes are so hypnotic; she can get lost in them as she stammers for English syllables. “Y-Yes, Dr. Solo?” “Seriously, Rey.” Is he blushing? Surely not. “I’ve known you all year, call me Ben.” “Ben,” she mumbles. It tastes like delicious sacrilege. “I actually think you’re in my bed.” “Huh?” “The couch. I was going to sleep there. Remember?” Rey clutches the blanket to her collarbone, hoping the light fabric is tented loosely enough to cover her breasts. Fuck, why does he have to be so distractingly hot? “No, it’s all right. I don’t mind, Professor.” “Ben," he insists firmly. “And I won’t be able to sleep at all knowing I’m comfy in a bed while you’re sleeping on that thing.”

Owner Malfunction. for Bombastique

One year after surviving Execgol, Rey and Ben Solo find themselves in each other's company after they are both captured while trying to take back the Falcon from Kanjiklub remnants. (AKA - The Force, the Falcon, love, and droids.)

Stealing the Light for bratanimus

Redemption isn’t given. It’s earned. Or: As the galaxy rebuilds from war, the man formerly known as Kylo Ren tries to make peace with the person he was, and the person he’s becoming.

Rey Niima and the American (Hot Piece of) Ass that She Just Wants to Tap, while also Not Dying in the Triwizard Tournament or Becoming Otherwise Inconvenienced or Maimed for Cairdiuil_Paiste

Completed for the prompt: Hogwarts AU! Triwizard tournament time with seventh year Rey representing Hogwarts. She wants to impress the MACUSA representative to strengthen her chances of joining their graduate programme. Too bad American diplomat Ben Solo doesn't seem to like her…

a forest of stars for caisha

Rey works hard at the diner to save up for her long dreamed-of vacation to Finland. She's lonely, but that's not new. What is new is Kylo Ren, the CEO of Orpheus Corp and new boss of her best friend Finn. When Finn and Kylo Ren stop by the diner for lunch, Rey feels as though she's finally met someone who understands her. But who is Kylo Ren, and what's his secret? A Modern Fae AU

I am a Soul Longing for Ceallaigh

Rey has spent the last two years searching the galaxy for clues about how to bring Ben back. Now, finally, it seems she has a solid lead. The planet Xolutel is said to be a vergence in the Force, and myth has it there's a hidden temple where worshipers of the Force were granted their deepest desires. No matter how slim the possibility, Rey owes it to Ben and herself to check it out. She's not known to give up easily.

The World Has Been Sad Since Tuesday for ceciliasheplin

The creature on his bed defied explanation, but Kylo Ren had a distinct feeling that there was nothing to worry about, nothing to fear. At least, not in this room. Demons lay in wait outside, but not here. Best not to let anyone know about this.

Be With Me for Chthonia

A force connection between Kylo (Ben), and Rey. It takes place while she is on Ach-To, and he is on the Death Star.

between the shadow and the soul for ClockworkCrow (icemink)

“You and Skywalker have been keeping it a secret,” she said, her eyes searching his face to catch him when he lies. “But I know the truth. I learned it, the day after we fought on Mustafar. That Lord Vader was his father, and your grandfather.” He struggled against her stasis but she pushed back harder, her power swirling around them both. “Rey—” “Don’t you see, Ben?” There was a ghost of a smile on her lips. “The darkness is inside of you, too. You don’t have to keep fighting it. You were meant to be mine.” Mine. . or: Jedi Knight Ben Solo should really stop doing smuggling runs with his father. Kira Ren should really stop trying to turn him to the dark side.

The Rescue for cohava

“What is it?” Ben asked, watching the worry lines form on Rey’s forehead as she checked the message that had just pinged through her datapad. “Poe’s leading the relief efforts on Faratula. There’s a boy there, Force sensitive. Orphaned. Poe says it’s a pretty bad situation.” “Let’s go get him, then,” he said without pausing.

how easy you are to need for Crimson_Alchemistress

The war is finished, yet Rey still carries wounds. They come in the form of nightmares, but Ben is there to comfort her.

stuck on how it feels here next to you for crossingwinter

Around four months ago, Ben and Rey married out of convenience. It had started that way and one of the key reasons why they had agreed to this in the first place was the condition that neither had romantic feelings for the other. This is their life, both head of heels for the other while not really knowing what to do about it.

Blue Sand for Crysania

The pale crimson sun rises above the horizon across the fields. A slight wind gently brushed Rey’s face. She left the ship and coverded herself with a blue scarf from a desert heat. She stepped forward, carefully observing the small city before her. Hot sand was burning her feets despite thick soles of boots. “This is going to be disaster,” she told herself with a crooked smile.

covert mission: baby acquisition for crystanagahori

In which Rey decides she's ready to start a family of her own and Ben Solo, her boss and dear friend, would make the perfect sperm donor. * It was a stupid, girlish crush. One that likely wasn’t reciprocated, and could land her in a world of trouble with HR if she acted brashly. But still, she wanted him. He could waive his parental rights for all she cared. They could enter into some sort of contract, if such things existed. But he was the perfect candidate, the ideal sperm donor. Ben Solo.

hands that hurt, hands that heal for cuddlesome

Rey climbs on top of Ben and makes out with his sopping self after Force healing his stab wound.

It was not Death, for I stood Up for CwenPhy

Emperor Palpatine lied on Exegol; Rey is not his granddaughter. Rey sets off on a journey, led by Obi-Wan Kenobi, to bring Ben Solo back from the World Between Worlds.

Good Boy for dankobah

Rey takes her dog to a nearby veterinary clinic for an emergency and doesn't expect to meet Ben (or anyone) while there.

The Unbreakable Bond for DarkSideOfMe

After Crait, Rey thought she had severed their Force Bond, or at least closed it, but some weeks ago she started feeling it, a presence in the back of her mind. Then she could hear him saying her name or other random words or feelings: concern, anxiety, loneliness, longing..to be fair, she didn’t know who those feelings belonged to, if there were Kylo’s or hers. And that was the other reason to put an end to this; she wasn’t ready to deal with anything different to her anger and disappointment. She had to focus on her training, on the Resistance, in their fight against “his” First Order. She was scared, scared of something she couldn’t put a name to, and last night had just showed her how important it was to break their connection. It was time to read the Jedi texts she’s been putting off for too long.

NiimaRide for datswatutink

Journey urge her not to stop believin' but provide no further clarification before she's strapped in the back seat and they're pulling away from the only real break she's had in twenty-four years.

To Hold and Give Light for dearly

After Exegol, Rey takes an injured Ben back to the Resistance.

a conundrum of lightsabers for devon380black (kryptonian17)

In the aftermath of Crait, Rey is left with two halves of a broken lightsaber she has no idea how to fix. As her force bond conversations with Ben continue, she comes to understand he's the only one who can help her with her problem. Maybe if they can repair one thing, they can repair something else too.

What Happens in Hotel Chandrila for DrPearlGatsby

Accompanying her best friends to a Galaxy Wars convention in Chandrila sounded like a good idea at first. But third-wheeling sucks, and that's how Rey finds herself daydrinking alone at the hotel bar. And then she gets a free drink from a tall, brooding, handsome stranger…

Until the Wild Feelings Leave You for dustoftheancients

Rehabilitating from a battle injury leaves Rey an irritable mess. The way Ben hovers over her does nothing to help.

Kintsugi for ElegyGoldsmith

In the darkest moments, the galaxy is still filled with light.

give me shapes and letters, if it’s not forever for ElleRen31

She holds out her hand, “I don’t think we’ve met, I’m Rey. I work at the flower shop next door.” He must be new, or she’s just a shut-in during work because she would’ve remembered seeing him after a year of being here. “I’m Kylo, I own the tattoo shop.” He points to his building and her eyebrows raise as he shakes her hand. Owner? So he’s the head honcho? She hums to herself and then keeps the smile plastered on her face. Then she sets her sights on the dogs, “What are their names?”

Where the ocean goes for Elywyngirlie

Sometimes getting out alive is the victory. Sometimes the rest takes a little time.

it shall not be death for englishable

Rey of the Jedi Knights is sent with her sword and Holy Fire, to destroy a palace of thorns. It doesn't quite go as planned.

The Reckoning for Erin410

Because of Rey, Ben has grown rather good at waiting. But she’s waiting, too, for something that hasn’t dawned on him yet. [Post-TROS mildly angsty marriage proposal fluff, hope you enjoy!]

Trading Places for Fairleigh

Kylo… Kylo awoke to the sound of her whimpering his name. He sat bolt upright in Rey’s extremely uncomfortable cot. Anxious for her safety, he reached out for her with his mind. Rey? He heard her moan and heat instantly pooled between his legs. Curious. The sensation was different but not unwelcome. Then he saw Rey, or rather he saw himself, naked and writhing on his bed. His mouth fell open. Rey was... masturbating. He watched in awe as she pumped his shaft up and down, slowly but forcefully. Kylo… She called his name again.

You'll Turn for FangirlintheForest

A retelling of the Last Jedi's elevator and throne room scenes with a role reversal twist. Can Smuggler Ben turn Dark Rey?

Building Something Together for fantastic_fanatics

When Ben confronts his new upstairs neighbor who keeps making all manner of odd noises at all manner of hours, he didn't expect what she's doing up there. He also didn't expect her to be so pretty.

Little Starfighter for Fic_me_senseless

Convinced he ruins everything he touches, isolated and lonely Ben Solo successfully pushes everyone away, except for the girl who sees something in him she recognizes.

Benvenuto nella nostra famiglia for gennalannisters

"Well, I have sensitive information here. Dinner is just actually a ploy. It’s actually an interrogation to make sure you didn't read the documents." She turned and smirked at him as they headed down the stairs, "If that's the case, I'm happy to be interrogated through wining and dining.” Love is in the air at Harvard Square.

Binary Suns for gigi_marlee

Young Ben Solo meets a young Rey. The two form an intense and instant attachment to the confusion of Ben's parents and his Uncle, Jedi Master Luke Skywalker. What is a dyad and what will it mean for two children who have found belonging in each other?

more everything for HalfwayThrough

"I'm the boss, I've earned the right to show up whenever the fuck I want." He was arrogant, condescending, and an asshole. And he didn't have a mark on his wrist.

One Stick of Unsalted Butter for HopeRebel

Rey's neighbor is the rudest, least considerate person she had to interact with. However, when she runs out of butter in the middle of night trying to bake cookies for Rose's birthday, there is only person she knows is awake and he is her only hope. Of course, things don't go according to plan.

come home, ben for hxllosweetie33

He looked at their hands, watched as Rey intertwined their fingers together, and fought the back the shutter from the contact. “ Rey…” He whispered. She brought her hand to his face – calloused tips brushing against his scar – observing his face, every detail of it, the bags and dark circles under his eyes, the paleness of his skin, his dry lips, the lack of light behind his eyes.

Ashes of Life for iamladyloki

Dark Rey becomes a reality and Ben has to remind her who she is

Negotiated Settlement for ilum

General Leia Organa has brought a small team with her to Kaytuu 5, expecting to negotiate a ceasefire between the First Order-controlled planetary government and local Resistance fighters. Unfortunately, Supreme Leader Armitage Hux has other plans. Rey will need the assistance of a Certain Someone who no longer calls himself Kylo Ren if she and her friends are to save the day.

Coming Home for incognitajones

After the Battle of Exegol, Rey and an injured Ben are trapped together on an uninhabited planet.

The Stray for itsinthestars

Rey moves in across the hall from Ben; a former foster kid alone in the city, aspiring to be an actress. Ben is a ladder-climbing white collar businessman with a horrible boss and zero social life. Which is just the way he likes it. So why in the world has this insufferable creature made it her life's work to adopt him? From sharing her dinner to doing his laundry, she seems determined to make a connection. In the end, it's easier for Ben to just let her. But opening up means letting your heart be vulnerable.

Peace and Purpose for itsnotillegal

Across the stars, Rey and Ben yearn for each other, neither able to move on, both facing the unending nights alone. But the Force longs for balance as surely as they long for each other.

Christmas Blues for karlamartinova

The first snow had fallen, covering the ground like a white blanket. The emergence of winter weather always marked the increase of Christmas moods. The season when people fervently decorated their houses and you couldn’t walk through the mall or downtown area without hearing a Christmas jingle. The neighborhood already sparkled with multicolored lights and inflated or authentic snow-made snowmen. Rey Johnson’s festive mood rose with each house she drove by, her fingers tapping on the wheel as “Rocking Around the Christmas Tree”faded and transitioned into another song.

prince and the sea for kuresoto

Prince Ben Chewbacca Solo Organa, descendant of the house of Naberrie and the line of Skywalker, heir to the Starbird pirate fleet, has followed in the family tradition of slaying monsters and ruling the high seas. Which in no way is an attempt at ignoring his soulmate bond.

what stranger miracles for La_Catrina

Ben can’t even manage to die right, apparently.

the universe resting in my arms for Lightningpelt

Rey sees Ben, quietly tooling around the Skywalker homestead, his hands wet with mechanic's grease, and the image is so perfect that she holds her breath, not wanting to mar it with a loud breath.

counting my steps, reaching out to you for Lizardbeth

All her life, Rey has felt snatches of someone else's emotions, seen visions of other places, other people she's certain she's never seen before. In a world where everything had been taken away from her, this connection was hers alone. She is wholly unprepared for the day she finds out that the person at the other end of the connection is a Jedi fighting as part of the Resistance against her delusional Master.

Soulmates for LostInQueue

After Ben Solo disappears in front of her eyes, she finds a way to bring him back, where love began…

Heal for LRRH17

A few weeks after the Battle of Crait, the Force connects Rey and Ben again on several occasions.

Softly, Softly for lucymonster

When the Resistance start to pick up distress calls from defecting Stormtroopers, they move to save as many as they can. It doesn't occur to them that the First Order might be after the same renegades until they're right on top of them.

First Impressions and Unexpected Connections for LueurdeLaube

War has ravaged the galaxy, but finally, there is a chance at peace. Her grandfather arranges for Princess Rey Palpatine to wed the Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, broadcast across the galaxy to usher in the new era. They've never met before, but he's sent her letters.

All These Things That I've Done for MahoganyDoodles

Someone dropped down to Rey's level and reached for the empty plastic shell of her case. She stilled for a moment, afraid that she was about to get smacked with it, afraid to look up. “Sorry about him,” she heard over the sound of her heart beating through her ears. Not Hux? This voice was deeper. Rey looked up and saw Ben Solo in front of her, holding out the case for her, a sympathetic look in his dark brown eyes.

For Now for maq_moon

There are plenty of things he could say, but he doesn’t. Buying you muffins makes me excited to get out of bed in the morning. I wish I could go back in time and be the kind of person you could like. I don’t remember my life before you. ---------- When Kylo finds his soulmate, she doesn't know, and he doesn't tell her.

#reylo #reylo fanfiction anthology #rffa writers #for one is love and both are one in love #master post #mod post #moodboard

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