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lovingthewildlife · 9 days ago

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Cato and the unknown heat

Summary: Cato gets hit with a sex pollen, but he doesn't realize it. Neither does his serf until it's a little bit too late.

TW: Power Imbalance, dub-con

Note: This thing took me for friggin' ever! It's probably OOC and I'm sorry. Hopefully it's still enjoyable. I'm ngl, I'm also really not used to tagging other people cause no one really asks for me to tag them but uh... yeah. *dumps fic and runs away*

Tagged: @incrediblethirst @bookandyarndragonwritesdark

How was he supposed to focus on anything when someone was keeping the heat turned up to the maximum? Cato was glad that he'd gotten out of his armor earlier and changed into a looser set of formal robes, but even the normally light linen felt like it was clinging to him. A look down at his chest showed that it, indeed, was clinging from the sweat that was pouring off of him. A sneer curled his lip and he abruptly turned around to head towards his room and the private showers that were there. It was small but it would be efficient enough to get the sweat off him so he could change into something clean and get a message sent to see about turning the heat down. There had to be something wrong with the engines if the whole of the ship was being blasted with this infernal humidity.

He felt like he was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and the sensation made him want to crawl out of his skin. It was one thing to work up a sweat while in the middle of a fight, but to have to deal with it off duty was another entirely. He typed in the code for his room perhaps a bit too forcefully and was greeted with his room being slightly cooler than the rest of the ship. He liked to keep his quarters a few degrees cooler so that was no surprise, but he had hoped that he'd feel more of a difference than just that. The heat must truly be rushing all throughout the system of Macragge's Honour if it was getting into the private rooms as well. He could only imagine how bad it was down in the barracks or the serfs quarters where people were more packed in.

Briefly, his mind lingered on the thoughts of the serfs quarters. He'd glimpsed them briefly before, it was only natural to head that way when one wanted to select a personal serf. As much as he had originally balked at the idea of a personal serf, it was an unfortunate necessity with the additional workload that he'd needed to take with his commendations. So he went down to the quarters, needing to see what they were like when they thought that they weren't being observed, to ensure that they had the grace and dignity required to serve him properly. The rooms were larger, but only because the serfs were packed in close. Separated by gender, when he'd glanced at the rooms themselves he'd seen a definitely distinction between the mens and women's rooms. They were both clean, of course, nothing else would be tolerated.

But the women's rooms had a section that was dedicated to physical upkeep that wasn't in the men's quarters. Not for ablutions, but simply so they could do one another's hair before going out on duty. It was fascinating to watch lithe fingers toying with tresses, separating sections and braiding parts before looping them upwards or around buns to keep the hair out of the way. It was necessary to keep it out of the way, naturally, but the way that the hair was style was varied from woman to woman.

He'd also had the distinct impression that his prescence hadn't been welcomed and he'd been politely requested to leave before he could watch too much of the pagentry.

It was… fascinating. So of course, he had requested a female serf to tend to him.

You were interchangable with many other serfs in the aspect of your diligence. Surely there were plenty of others who could do just the same tasks and with just the same amount of skill. But he was fascinated with you because of how you held yourself at all times.

Walking into his shower room, he tapped the button that would request you to come and attend him. He needed his dirty robes taken down to be laundered and he wanted you to talk to the mechanicus in charge of temperature to make sure that this blasted heat was turned down.

Normally he'd at least fold his robes before putting them in the laundry basket, but the fabric just came down with a wet sound as it hit the floor and he groaned, turning on the shower at high blast. Much as he wanted to have something ice cold, he knew that hot would better to get the sweat off and he stepped under the spray. The small space of the shower made the heat feel all the closer and he turned his back to the shower head, resting his forearms on the tile in front of him, giving himself a moment to enjoy the slick sensation riding across his back and trickling down his sides. He wasn't normally given to indulgences and he blinked at the tiles, leaning back into the heavy pounding of water against him.

The door of the shower room opened a fraction, a quiet knocking preceeding that let him know just who had stepped into his quarters. He could hear your voice but not the words being said, his heart pounding quicker than before. Licking his lips, he snapped out a hand to catch the shower curtain, shoving it open and looking down at you.

Your eyes were wide as you looked up at him, surprised that he'd finished up so quickly. Your eyes lingered briefly on his thick thighs and up to his waist before darting to meet his gaze. You had heard the shower running when you'd stepped into his quarters and grabbed towels for him since he often tended to just step out nude and drip on the floor. Which was his right to do since it was his room, but it was annoying for you because you had to clean it up.

Still, despite all the times seeing him strutting around nude you weren't sure if you'd ever get used to the sight of him. All of the marines were built like brick walls. All the better to be the protection that the Emperor gave to Mankind of course. And there was definitely no reason for him to be ashamed when he looked like that. You supposed that if you were built like some of those noble women back on Macragge, you'd flaunt yourself too.

Trying to subdue the blush in your cheeks, you scooped up his dirty robes and tossed them in the laundry, turning around as you settled the basket on your hip and started out of the room.

"If you're finished, I'll grab you something clean to wear." You managed to get out before large hands grabbed you by the waist and shoulder, yanking you backwards.

The clothes went spilling across the floor and you couldn't help but stare at them for a moment, confused. You could feel a 'brick wall' at your back and insistent fingers kept you from moving away, going so far as to lift you off the ground so you didn't have any purchase to jerk away from him. Your heart pounded as he pressed his face to the nape of your neck and there was a soft shudder from him.

"You're cold." He spoke the words like it perplexed him.

Settling one hand on the one that was wrapped almost all the way around your waist, you could see why he thought so. Sicarius was burning up. Trying to pull away only ensured that his grip tightened that much more and he made a quiet whining noise that didn't match the mass of him. His nose nudged along your neck and up to your ear and you tried to lean away slightly. It was a silly thought but you didn't want to offend him with the scent of your perfume. But when he inhaled there, his fingers gently squeezed your waist and his lips parted against your neck, his breath hot on your skin and tongue sliding upwards.

"How are you so cool?" He huffed, his mouth moving against your neck and muffling his words slightly.

"I dont think I am, I think you're running hot." You fumbled out the words as his hands massaged your side and arm. He was insistent on keeping you as close as he could and you could feel the way he swelled and pressed against your lower back.

"No, it's you. It's all you." He groans out the words.

The depth of his voice combined with his lips leaving sparce kisses on your neck made your breasts feel heavier, your nipples tightened under the thin robes you wore. You didn't know what had gotten into him to make him so forward and you hated to think it had something to do with how hot he was running.

"M'Lord." Your voice was raspy as he started to suck near your collarbone, starting to rub against your back for relief. "I think you might have a virus."

"I'm fine." It wasn't the usual stubbornness you had gotten used to with the Knight Champion. It sounded almost petulant.

"You really need to talk to the Medicae."

"All I need is you."-There- was the stubbornness you were used to. Along with his broad hand spanning across your waist and sliding down.

Two fingers eased down to the apex of your thighs, his body leaning slightly so he could better ensure you didn't slip away from him as he changed his grip so he was cupping your sex and flexing his fingers. Curling them almost casually when he finally pulled his mouth away from your neck with a wet pop.

"I need you." He said it like it was something that was just now occurring to him.

His fingers were still flexing and pressing against your sex and your hand was overtop of his, trying to pull his hand away as you did your best to catch your breath. You had never expected the Knight Champion to make a pass at you, especially not so desperately. He was making soft noises at the back of his throat as he tried to separate the layers of your robe so he could reach your skin. Pressing down with your hand, your breath hitched as his finger managed to catch inside your robes where the clasps left a small openin and he groaned when he felt the inside of your thigh.

"Sir." Your head dropped down, in surprise, in excitment as he fumbled to pull at the clasps.

One of the metal pieces yanking off the fabric and falling to the floor with a quiet clinking sound before he stuffed his finger in and pressed his finger along your thigh. The fabric of your robes bunching as he moved up and rubbed across your sex again, breath quick against your neck.

You could feel him rutting against your back again and you blushed at the thought that he might spill across your robes and leave you with a stain that everyone would see.

That was about all that gave you the energy to slap his wrist and hiss at him, hoping that the small smart would snap him away from his eager push and pull against you.

"Sir! Put me down." You hoped that when he did your legs would be able to hold your weight.

Rather than setting you down right away, however, he started to walk over to his bed. The thing was as massive as he was. Plain, because he didn't believe in embellishments that weren't given to him in duty, it was simply huge and had moderate comfort to it. He set you down on the bed and you weren't sure if he meant to set you closer to the middle or if he simply forgot that you were so much smaller and it meant you'd have to crawl to get off of it.

His hands rested on either side of you and Cato looked down at you, his brow furrowed and hands reaching to undo your robes. Or more likely to rip the buttons and clasps apart if he was going to go at it like he had before. You grabbed his hands in your smaller ones, your heart squeezing as he used your busied hands to ensure he could lean in properly and kiss you.

It was awkward. Like he didn't have any practice with baselines, which you assumed was the truth. He was so much bigger that when his tongue thrust out to catch yours, it felt more like a wide slap of a warm wet piece of meat pushing against your lips.

His skin was hot to the touch and when you wormed one hand out of his grip to press against his chest, you stopped, realizing that all the wetness on his body seemed to have vanished.

"Sir, you need to see the medicae." You tried again to insist.

He grumbled then, an unhappy scowl as he pressed his face to your neck and pulled at the clasps on your robes.

"Sir, if you rip my robes, how am I supposed to go back to the serfs quarters afterwards?"

"Leave?" He said the word like it was offensive, pulled his head up to frown at the sheer idea that you might have to go away. "No, you're staying."

It was a ridiculous notion, of course. You couldn't just stay in his quarters, and you had half a mind to tell him so. But he was looming over you and he was touching again, attempting to kiss in that awkward way that you weren't sure how to respond to. His lips pressed against yours and you slid your hand up to his neck, pressing to try to push him back as you twisted your head again.

"Do you even know what you're doing?"

That seemed to give him a moment of pause and he breathed, looking down at you and blinking. His head dropped down to rest on the bed beside your own and you had to resist the urge to pet his hair and give him some sort of comfort. He was acting so far outside his norm, at least as far as you knew. He'd never had a personal serf before. Did he think that this was one reason why you were here? Was this why he had come down to the serfs quarters originally to pick someone out? Your heart sped up and you turned your head to look at him, seeing his eyes squeezed shut.

"Talk to me." You moved back a bit and weren't surprised at all when his hands automatically reached out to grasp you and pull you back.

"It's so hot." he said slowly. "And your skin is cool. You're soft and I just.. need."

"You need to ask." You frowned, your heart rate speeding up.

He looked at you stupidly and for a moment you weren't sure if he was going to be offended at the sheer idea of it or just be angry that you'd suggest that he wasn't eventually going to ask.

"Ask… for what?"

You blinked once and then again, staring at him. Cato looked flumoxed, like a child caught with his hands somewhere they shouldn't be. Which.. wasn't an inappropriate assessment given where he had been grabbing at earlier.

"You want to touch me?"

You wanted to laugh at the way he nodded, but the look in his eyes was more intense now and you could see his muscles bunching in preparation for a pounce. A hard feat considering he was already on top of you. Looking down between the length of your bodies, you tensed, seeing the hard thick length that bobbed between his thighs.

"And you want to kiss me?"

"Yes." His voice was thick and he pushed down, hands finding your sides and pressing in on you slightly, his thumbs sweeping along your ribs and then pausing as he pulls up again.

Laid out under him, you let him explore for a moment longer, enjoying that he was being softer now and slower.

"You're supposed to ask before you touch." You remind him quietly.

"Why…?" He murmured the word, his gaze hazy as he kissed you, fingers finding the clasps of your robe and fumbling them open.

You froze up as he pushed the fabric aside and started to inch back on the bed, just for him to follow you and start to press his weight down against you.

"You're mine, and I need you." He kissed your neck once more.

Your breath came a bit faster as you pushed him back and he started to move his lips from your neck to your clavicle and then down the valley of your breasts. The bra you were wearing wasn't one of your best ones, but you still didn't want it ruined if he decided to rip it and you settled your hands over his as he tugged one cup down low enough that he could capture your nipple and toy with it with his tongue and teeth. Each suckle and lick had you throbbing and your thighs pressed together as he enjoyed teasing your breasts. You had never been very sensitive there, but it had been a long while since someone had played with them. And his hands weren't entirely gentle, tugging and pulling at your body, his head shifting to spread his attention between both breasts and ensure your nipples were wet against the cooler air.

You were sure that you were supposed to be telling him no. His touching was inappropriate for a Knight to his serf and this could be seen as some sort of attempt to curry favors with the Astartes. It certainly wouldn't be the first time that a serf had gone on their back for an Astartes, even among the Ultramarines. But it was looked down on and you needed to keep your head about you. You didn't think that you would have had this problem with Cato because he'd previously seemed oblivious to you and that hadn't bothered you at all.

But now his length was pressing against your inner thigh and he was rubbing up, pressing the blunt head of his cock to your panties as he feverishly touched you.

"Wait, wait wait." You patted his chest, whining as he pulled up and didnt release your nipple until what felt like the last moment. The wet sound of his mouth coming away making your pussy clench. "The uh… the Codex Astartes. Isn't there a rule against fraternizing?"

"No." He mumbled as he kissed his way down your belly next.

"Well then remind me what it does say about how serfs and Astartes are supposed to behave around each other?" You curled your fingers in his hair.

"No." He murmured against the fabric of your underthings before peeling them down and shoving them out of the way where he'd tossed your robes.

His hands were almost too warm as he pulled your thighs apart and upwards, settling himself between them and kissing the inside of your thigh before licking and sucking the sensitive skin that was close to your groin. Your fingers were still laced in his hair but you weren't pulling him away anymore. Your nails scrapped through his short hair and tugged upwards when he found your clit. His thick fingers parting your lips and sliding up and down the seam of your cunt before pressing one in.

"You feel so cool in here." He licked his lips, the motion sliding across your clit and making you jolt.

"No, you're running hot." You manage to gasp as he slowly eases his finger in and out at a surprisingly gentle pace. Your hips rock slowly with him, all thoughts of trying to talk him down from this flown out of your head as just his finger is filling you up more than you were used to.

It was hard to get real privacy in the serfs quarters. The closest you might get was in the showers at times, and even though there was just a curtain and a simple wall that didn't reach all the way to the floor. You couldn't think of the last time you'd been able to just lay back and rub one out. Your eyes rolled back as he insistently prodded and pumped inside you, only occasionally touching your clit to make you whine. For a man that didn't seem to know what he was doing, he learned quickly.

"Make sure it's wet or it'll hurt to put it in." You gasped when he tried to nudge in another finger dry.

You could feel the hesitation and then there was a slurping sound when he pulled his hand away. Looking down, you saw that he was sucking his fingers with a stern expression on his face. His gaze flicked up to yours as he slid two in this time, wetter than before and fulfilling in a way that had your jaw dropping. Your breath came quick as he shifted his hand and curled his fingers, pushing upwards. Wincing, your hand came down to push his wrist away and you whimpered as you shook your head.

"How do I do this?"

"Not so hard." You couldn't help the blush and bit your lip as he eased his fingers in slow once more. "There. Just like that, can you do that with your fingers again? How you curled—"

His movements were quick in response to your question and you gripped his wrist, this time to hold him still as your back arched. Your jaw dropped and he came closer to kiss your thigh and lick his way towards your apex again, getting you wetter and making you groan as the sound of the slickness became more obvious. His lips hovered close to your clit, the tip of his tongue nudging it and stroking it softly at first to see how you reacted. Little groans and grinding upward made him smirk, you could practically feel it against your pelvis.

"Be careful, that's sensitive." You whined softly when he nudged it a few more times, making your hips rock with him.

He grunted quietly before bringing his lips higher up and kissing your belly instead. It was almost a relief not to have him focus so much there, knowing how quickly you'd end up coming if he kept that up. His fingers were still deep inside you and you were getting used to the slow pace. Your hands shifting up to his biceps and squeezing, feeling curiously for the ports where his armor was held to him. With a wiggle you got a hand under you and fidgeted with the closure of your bra, unclipping it and sending it off to the side so the tightness wouldn't pull at your chest or get in the way.

The motion grabbed his attention and his head snapped up, reminding you again of the predator that he was. Your heart beat slammed in your chest and he grunted, shifting up and pulling his fingers out of you so he could grasp your chest. Your breasts were already warm and slightly damp from where he had been sucking on them earlier and you ran your fingers in his hair as he hungrily kissed your skin.

"I don't know what's so interesting about my tits." You murmured, only to moan when Cato pulled on one nipple and twisted it lightly, pinching it softly and rubbing his thumb back and forth across the nub like he was eager to see if milk would come out.

"Like how you sound when I do this." He grunted and continued the somewhat soft kisses.

You had mostly kept your hands in his hair up until now, occasionally touching muscle or guiding his hand when he was too fast. Looking down between you, at the length that stood so impossibly tall between his thighs, you reached down and brushed your fingers across the head.

His reaction was instant, his hips snapping forward and hand gripping harder. Yelping in pain, you grit your teeth, looking up at him. Cato looked lost for a moment and then worried as he stared at your poor abused breast. He kissed it softly, apologetically, something you'd never expected from him. His tongue stroked the soft flesh and you pushed him up with one hand to make sure he didn't accidentally hurt you as you guided your palm across his cock.

His thighs were shaking as he pushed his weight down into your grip, hips pumping a slow rhythm with you. Looking up at him, you saw that his jaw had dropped and his eyes rolled back. Your hand shifted a bit to hold him firmly, fingers flexing in a delicate wave that worked him from base upwards in a slow stroke and he grit his teeth, his breath coming fast.

"Yes, yes, that's what I need." He gasped then and you froze up as he turned his gaze on you.

His eyes darted from your breasts to your mouth and then low to your cunt and you felt yourself clenching up in response. Nervous or excited, you weren't quite sure which was stronger as he rocked his hips and pushed his cock close to your sex. He wasn't even using his hand to guide it in, just doing his best to hold himself still above you and nudge it a little at a time. He licked his lips and groaned as your fingers squeezed his cock.

"Let go." He ordered, one hand coming down to grip your thigh, holding it up and holding you open.

"Sir—"

"Let go." His voice was more like a growl this time and you froze up, fingers shaking as you did as you were told.

His jaw trembled a bit as he continued to nudge inwards a little at a time. The fat head of his cock pushing up across your cunt and finding the wetness he'd created when he fingered you. You could see that acknowledgement in his eyes as the tip pressed in a little at a time. He made you wet, he made you like this and you were his. You weren't sure at first when he adjusted how he sat and started the slow press, your brow furrowed as you looked up at him. He was a giant, felt like a monster inside you. Like a meteor come to life.

And like a meteor, you felt yourself being pulled along as he descended, his hips moving automatically and teeth gritting as he pumped in and made himself at home inside you. The stretch was more than you were ever used to, more than you could handle and you held onto his arms as he continued to shove himself in with small measured pumps. He held onto you with one hand on your hip and one on your thigh and looked down on you, his breath coming faster.

"Do you need to be wetter?" He questioned.

"Uh… uh huh." You nodded quickly and whimpered when he pulled out, leaving you open and empty.

You could see his hand shaking as he spit into it. Quick slick that gathered in his palm and he hurriedly slathered on himself. He looked like he wanted to rush back right away but hesitated, adding more spit before yanking you in closer and bending himself over you as he pushed in.

You couldn't help but groan, then whimper as he continued to stretch you and your leg shook, curling around his waist when he was close enough. You could hear a soft curse coming from him and his weight came down, arm braced on one side of you while the other stayed on your thigh so he could move you how he needed. He was fucking into you at a pace that was too slow for him and it showed in how he panted and bared his teeth, impatient for you to loosen up around his cock. His weight came down in each slow, steady thrust and he rested his head against the mattress next to yours. His breath quick in your ear and his voice low as he tried to get as close to you as both your bodies could allow.

There was a soft whine in the back of his throat and you reached up to feel along the steel like strength of his shoulders. Felt the minute twitch of muscles when he shifted his weight to make sure he wasn't putting all his weight on you, but you could still feel yourself coming apart at the seams, pushed to your limits and thighs burning to hold him. A flurry of panic clenched in your gut when he started to murmur the word 'mine' to you, quiet grunts that got louder the more he continued. A panic that receded when you looked up at him and saw his jaw dropped down and eyes rolled back.

The bed was more than big enough for you both, but he was curled tightly close to you, his thrusts a bit awkward as he tried to simply get in deep without thinking more of it. He was like an animal, rutting and whining, begging under his breath and demanding for more when he managed to get his knees under him to make the thrusts longer and firmer. You could already feel the bruises starting and groaned, digging your nails into his shoulders and moving with him slowly, your body protesting the movements at first.

"Slow.. down." You hissed, rather surprised when he did so, his eyes turning to you even as he continued the less harried pace. Feeling the more subdued drag of his cock inside you, your head fell back and you sighed, nodding. "Like that. I'm not going anywhere."

You felt him move inside of you, gasping as he adjusted so he could put both hands on the mattress now, pushing down with each thrust at first until you winced and he adjusted the angle. His fingers gripped the sheets and pulled, and you could hear the popping of seams. Drawing your hands up from his shoulders to his neck, you pulled yourself up and kissed him, somewhat awkward as you tried to show him how to restrain himself and he kept overwhelming you. His voice was a tumble of rocks, a low build up of sound that reverberated in your chest and worked down into your stomach from how close you were. Each curl of his hips making you arch off the bed and your hips ached, he kept kissing you like he couldn't get enough. This close to him you could see his lip curl as he sped up little by little and you hung onto him, your body almost bouncing off the bed from the force he was putting into it.

Each beat of your heart made you rise a little closer to him, the pleasure pushing away the sensation of it being too much and your cunt squeezing down on him eagerly. The first notes of need in you being answered by his own heated harmony and he buried his face against your neck, snarling your name as he struggled to move a hand down and grab you by the waist, yanking you into each thrust. You could feel the ripple of the head of his cock moving deeper inside you and whined as he came closer, your soft curves rocking against his hard muscles, the sweat on his body barely there for a moment before dissipating in his own heat. He huffed as he rushed his hips forward, his voice a jagged sound of need that might have been your name.

You hissed as he rocked forward firmly, you could practically feel his length moving from the base to the tip when he released inside you. The heat warming you from the inside, your belly starting to swell from the sheer amount he'd loosed inside you. Looking down, your eyes widened and he groaned, his movements slowing slightly. But his hips didn't stop rocking, like he was still trying to chase that high and he still had energy to burn. A gasp pulled from you as he licked your shoulder and up your neck. Astartes had so much energy and you had no idea just what their sex drive was like. Or at least you didn't before tonight.

Taking his hand, you led it down between your thighs, looking up at him as you guided his thumb to your clit and showed him how much pressure to use, wincing when it was too much and whispering for him to pull back. Cato licked his lips, sitting back so your hips were raised up in his lap as he continued his slow movements. His eyes dark as he watched you in fascination. His thumb moving with a gentle precision that slowed down almost too soon. You looked up and tried to see just where he was staring at you, following the line of his eyes to the bruises that were forming on your hips where he'd grabbed you earlier.

"You can't use too much pressure." You whispered, reaching up to touch his cheek, feeling him lean down into you to accept the softness. "You can do it. You're the best, right?"

Nervousness flickered in your chest when he bared his teeth, but it was only a wicked smile he gave you. He kissed from your lips up to your forehead, his thumb brushing softly, like he was strumming a harp and you were giving him the most beautiful sounds. Between his hushed huffing and your quiet moans was the wet sound of his cock stretching you wide open and you kept your hand over his, squeezing occasionally as your hips twitched upwards involuntarily. Your vision filled with him as he looked down at you in satisfaction and a need to learn every part of you, pulling you to a lazy peak and kissing you as your cunt squeezed him.

"Are you still hot?" You groaned, unable to tell the difference between the heat in both of your bodies.

"Not as much. It's better now." Cato grumbled, slowly grinding his hips against you.

"Promise you'll see the medicae after?"

"When I'm done." He shook his head, his eyes dark, his fingers clever and light against your skin.

You supposed it could wait a little longer.

#mun writes #space marine x reader #reader x cato sicarius

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nardandan · 12 days ago

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Indian Summer in the Middle of Winter

SUMMARY :

Your senses were filled with swing music echoing from the gramophone, the laughter of couples spinning across the dance floor, and Bucky Barnes' touch, impossibly warm, on the small of your back. The scent of cinnamon and espresso lingered in the cool december air, mingling with cedarwood and leather. It was hard to believe you were dancing with Brooklyn’s golden boy. He might’ve been your best friend’s older brother, but the two of you could hardly stand each other. But the night was full of surprises, and by the end of it, you find yourself slowly, but surely, falling in love with Bucky Barnes. Little did you know that that was the last night you'd spend with Bucky before he was shipped off to war, before both of you inevitably faded from each other’s memories, and before the world went to hell. After that night, you never saw Bucky Barnes again. Decades later, a man with tired eyes steps into a coffee shop to escape the cold. And there, by the counter, he sees her— The girl, like coffee, some distant memory ago.

PAIRING : Bucky x Reader (Fem)

TAGS : Reincarnation Trope, Unrequited Love, Pre-war!Bucky, 1940s!Bucky

NOTES: It's my first time writing a fic!! (thanks to my bucky brainrot phase). Also on A03. and yes I made a sideblog just for this because I'm a lil embarassed hahauhah.

December, 1942 – Another Lifetime Ago

Your senses were filled with swing music echoing from the gramophone, the laughter of couples spinning across the dance floor, and Bucky Barnes’ touch, impossibly warm, on the small of your back.

It was hard to believe you were dancing with Brooklyn’s golden boy. He might’ve been your best friend’s older brother, but the two of you could hardly stand each other. No wonder your classmates couldn’t help but stare at the odd pair you made. Who would’ve thought that the James “Bucky” Barnes would ask you to be his date to the school dance?

The gymnasium-turned-dance hall was dimly lit and decorated with sparkly streamers and strings of soft lights. The theme was “Winter Wonderland,” so everything was in whites and blues. It was fitting for the season—less so for the war-torn times. Still, even kids forced to grow up too fast deserved one night of fun before everything went to hell.

Weeks before the dance, you had planned to stand by the snack table the entire night, sans the company of your best friend Becca who had to transfer to a boarding school months ago. You were caught by surprise when Bucky Barnes, her brother, asked you to be his date. You were skeptical, of course, because in your eyes this boy was always up to no good.

Becca was an angel; how she ended up with a brother like him was a mystery. He was irritatingly charming, smart, and slick, but you saw through his facade. He was a guy who’d never heard the word “no” in his life. He got away with most things, from causing trouble to breaking hearts, thanks to his endless supply of charm. All he needed to do was look at you with those pretty blue eyes and flash that damned smile— on most days, you were immune to it. But that night, you found your resolve slipping.

“Hey, you ok?” His voice cut through your daze. “You regretting saying yes already?”

You blinked up at him, startled. He gave you a lopsided grin, enough to cover up his nerves that were slipping through.

“I just figured,” you started slowly, “when you asked me to be your date, it’d involve you making fun of my hair. Or my shoes. Not this.”

“This? As in… dancing at a dance?” Bucky laughed, low and genuine. “C’mon, doll. I can be sincere when I want to. Give me some credit.”

You arched a brow. “Have you earned any?”

He held your gaze, smile softening. “Guess not. But hey, I’m trying.”

The music slowed, and you found yourselves inching closer, you could almost hear his heartbeat. He was undeniably handsome—annoyingly so. His hair was slicked back with pomade, and he was donning a sharp suit of navy blue. His white dress shirt was freshly pressed and hugged his torso nicely that you catch yourself staring every now and then—When did he get so broad? You figured he was already training for the soldier’s life he’s been dreaming of.

“I wanted to thank you,” His face shifted, and for a moment, his more sincere side peeked through. “For being there for Becca. When… y’know, when everything went to hell.”

You looked away, the ache of missing her weighing on your chest. Both of you were inseparable since kindergarten, and having her suddenly plucked away from your life was jarring. After their parents died, Becca was sent off to a boarding school upstate. You wrote letters—fewer and fewer as the months passed—but it just wasn’t the same.

“Last time she wrote to me,” you murmured. “She was sayin’ that she hated the food, hated the kids. Missed me. And you.”

“I miss her too,” Bucky said softly. He opened his mouth to say something else, but hesitated. You sensed his apprehension. You tilted your head to the side and stared at him with a searching look on your face.

He squeezed your hand, gathering the courage to say— “I think I missed you too, weirdly enough. You might not have meant it, but you were there for me when I needed it too.”

You blinked up at him. You felt warmth rising to your cheeks, spreading through all the places you and him connected.

“What, no comeback?” he teased.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” you said, lips twitching. “But… maybe I missed you too.”

Somehow, you ended up dancing with Bucky all night long. Hours passed like minutes. You talked about school, about Becca, about how different things had become in just one year. You both shared stories from childhood—the stuff only you two would understand. The conversation slipped easily into something indescribably soft, and you found his gaze easier and easier to hold.

The conversation flowed so smoothly you barely noticed the time. It felt like it was just you and Bucky, suspended in this moment of time, surrounded by a blur of lights and glitter. The growing shuffle of footsteps turning to leave the hall snapped you out of your trance. Surprisingly, Bucky’s hand stayed firm on yours.

“Come on,” he said, tugging your hand gently. “There’s someplace I wanna show you.”

You indulge him, just this once, because you know this is the last night you’ll ever get to spend with Bucky Barnes. The tangle of sensations you felt tonight almost made you forget the reality of tomorrow— He was preened and raring to go to war, and you were destined to be stuck in this town.

He led you up the fire escape towards the school rooftop. Winter had started, and snow dusted the edges of the roof. No one was around except you, Bucky, and the twinkling stars painting the Brooklyn night sky.

“I know students aren’t allowed here but… This is where I go when I want to clear my head, get away from it all,” Bucky said, shrugging off his coat and draping it over your shoulders. “Don’t tell anyone, alright? I got a reputation to keep ‘round here.”

“What, afraid you’ll be exposed as the troublemaker and trespasser you really are?”

“Yeah. It doesn’t exactly fit my golden boy image.”

You both laughed, settling into a comfortable silence as you stargazed.

“I’m gonna be sent out in a week,” he said eventually, his voice nearly as quiet as a whisper. “Army wants us out by Christmas.”

You nodded. “I figured.”

You and Bucky looked at each other for a long time.

This felt like the beginning and end of something both of you refused to acknowledge, yet some childish pride kept both of you holding on to this unnamed feeling.

“I’m gonna keep you right here,” he said, tapping his chest. “Even when I’m miles away.”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut it, Barnes. You and I both know you’ll be charming the next pretty blonde who’ll give you the time of day.”

He laughed that boyish laugh that made your heart light. The two of you danced around the lingering goodbye—something inevitable and bittersweet.

“Maybe,” he said. “But not tonight.”

You leaned back against the rooftop, Bucky’s coat draped around your shoulders, the stars above, and the scent of him—leather and cedarwood— putting you in a warm embrace.

You turned to him and said, “Maybe in another life, we’d have more time. Less wars. Less trouble.” It was half a statement, half a wish.

“You think we’d meet again? In another life?”

“Yeah. I’ll find you just to give you a good smack—for giving me the best night of my life, then leaving me here all alone the morning after.”

You both chuckled at the ridiculous thought, but a small part of you knows it wouldn’t be so bad to spend a lifetime with Bucky by your side.

The night had been full of surprises, so he turned to give you one more for the road. He slowly held out his hands to cup your face. His hands were unsteady, shivering, and you were unsure if it was the cool December air or his anxiety. Being the impatient girl you are, you grabbed his shaky hands and leaned in for a kiss.

The warm scent of cinnamon and espresso filled his senses. That was the last thing he’d remember you by—

That girl, like coffee, some distant memory ago.

After that night, you never saw Bucky Barnes again.

__________________________________________

The next few years for Y/N were uneventful and grey. You were married off to some sod of a man who could never quite compare to that soldier boy you once held dear in your heart, even if his face had long since faded from your memory. You died an unremarkable death, stricken by tuberculosis like a thousand others. Your story was lost to time—immortalized only in the letters exchanged with your best friend, and in the ones you never found the courage to send to James Barnes.

And as for Bucky Barnes—

He did, in fact, dance with other girls. Drafts of letters he meant to send were tucked away and forgotten. And the rest about Bucky Barnes, who eventually turned into the Winter Soldier, and back to Bucky Barnes again— is written down in history.

Neither of you would remember that cold night on the rooftop— But time did. Time is where things are lost, but never really forgotten.

__________________________________________

December, 2025— A New Lifetime Ahead

Decades later, a man with tired eyes walks the cold streets of New York, hoping to take refuge from the unexpected snow storm. He ducks into a quaint little coffee shop on the corner of some unfamiliar street, and immediately, the nostalgic scent of cinnamon and espresso fills the air.

And there, by the counter, he sees her—

That girl, like coffee, some distant memory ago.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #james buchanan barnes #marvel fic #fanfic #winter soldier #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky x you #marvel mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel bucky barnes #marvel fanfic

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ms-demeanor · 2 years ago

Note

since twitter has become actively hostile to its users, so they came to tumblr, and reddit has become actively hostile to its users, so they came to tumblr, what do we do now that tumblr is becoming (more) actively hostile to its users? i’ve been here for over a decade so i know tumblr users are the type to cling on despite everything and revel in undoing every change, but i’m so tired of the way this website breaks the way it fundamentally works in order to appeal to new users. the twitterfication of the site seems so much worse than when people jumped ship after the porn ban, and even then, only small communities (and twitter) cropped up as solutions. you might not be the person to ask for a definitive answer, but i figured a tech blog might be interested in considering - what do we do when there’s nowhere left to go?

Okay so, I mean this very seriously: how has tumblr meaningfully become like twitter?

I don't personally find the sidebar view obnoxious and it seems to me like just another layout change that's pretty typical to tumblr. New users are getting signed up with a bit more emphasis on algorithmic feeds, but that is still very easy to change (MUCH easier than on any other social platform) and the algorithm has been there for everyone for quite a while, we just typically don't notice it because a lot of long-term tumblr users don't go into the "for you" feed.

I don't think that tumblr *has* fundamentally broken the way that it works to appeal to new users. My dash now is still very much like my dash in 2019, and still very much like my dash in 2018 (though much less pornographic). Reblogs are still reblogs, likes are still likes. Replies, for all that they seem like they've been around forever, are new and good and I think they work well. I'm irritated that the notes menu doesn't have a "view all" option but I think that's a worthwhile tradeoff for an easy way to see tags.

I *do not* understand why tumblr has broken linking back to previous reblogs but I don't think that's out of an effort to act like twitter; it is a bizarre choice that I dislike and don't understand but I also don't think that it has fundamentally changed the way the site works and i mean you've been around long enough that I'm sure you've had the same experience I have of going into the notes of a post and randomly clicking until you found a version that you wanted to reblog without a bunch of bullshit at the bottom. Tumblr has always kind of sucked, this change DOES suck but it doesn't suck in a way that is particularly novel or insurmountable. (For instance, I think this change sucks MUCH LESS than when they made posts with links invisible to the search, that is something that is genuinely bad that has been long lasting but doesn't get brought up much in lists of the ways that tumblr has gone wrong)

Tumblr *is* changing, but I think it is changing more incrementally and less terribly than other parts of the internet. I also hate the floating clown, the login walls, the dash-only view for blogs (you can't archive it and I HATE that), and - to an extent - the new lightbox on mobile. And I dislike that less than I thought I would but I don't think it's a fundamental change that necessarily impacts my interactions with the site - it *adds* a feature that I don't care for but it doesn't *break* anything that I require to have a good time on tumblr - in that way I think of it very much like Live. People hate Live so much and I find that perplexing because it is so easy to simply ignore it.

But that's not really your question; that's just some stuff I want people to think about because as much as tumblr has changed in the last two years it is nowhere near as fucked up as the recent things that twitter and reddit have pulled.

So, as to your question: where do we go?

Well. Not to be an extremely old person on the internet, but damned if I don't miss email lists. And forums. God I miss forums. Neither of those things has all the bonuses of platforms like twitter or reddit or tumblr or facebook, but they were great ways to hang out with people you liked on the internet.

The internet is changing. I can feel it, you can feel it, I'm pretty sure we're all like cattle in a field lifting our noses and hearing some distant rumbling and becoming slowly aware that it's almost time to run. There's a coming stampede and it isn't here yet but you know it's on its way. You're not imagining that, that's how things feel right now and there are a shitload of things contributing to it.

Things like SESTA/FOSTA and KOSA (which has not passed yet but is a big red flag waving on the horizon) have been eroding away the way that users on various platforms can function. Some platforms have consolidated in ways that harm users; some new platforms have popped up and shaken up the map of the internet; some platforms are being torn apart brick by brick by owners who don't care about the users. It kind of seems like people are actually looking up and realizing that advertising is A) bad and B) doesn't actually work and I think we're running straight toward another advertising-based crash like we saw in 2017. It feels like all the desperate things that tumblr is doing is just rearranging deck chairs on the titanic as the internet as a whole starts to sink into the ocean.

Honestly, I don't think it's that bad. I think it *feels* bad, but I think we're looking at a slow whimpering death of the platforms, not a bang. I think tumblr is going to hang on at least for a few years and I think it's going to end up like livejournal and myspace, which both still exist as websites that are recognizable as updated versions of the sites they were in 2004-2010. The thing that I think would really, honestly hurt tumblr in a fundamental way is if it moved to a more algorithmic and data-sales based model of advertising, and I think that's still pretty distant. I think Automattic is aware that killing the chronological feed would be the one unforgivable sin that would cause a mass exodus and a final crash, and I think when we see that, when we can't just scroll through the feed and see what our friends did that day in order of when they did it, that's when the party is over here.

But that's still not answering your question.

So, where do we go? What do we do? Well, for now, I'd say it's a good time to get contact info for your friends across various platforms. Get email addresses, get phone numbers.

Now is also the time for you to set up a personal website. NeoCities is currently the best place to do this, though it takes a lot more effort than just starting a blog on tumblr. I think that various oldschool blogging sites like Wordpress and Blogger/Blogspot/whatever the hell the google one is are a better place to have your emergency backup than a more platform-y platform if you aren't up to doing something with NeoCities.

If you've got the ability to do so and a group of people who are interested in the same core subject, set up a forum. There's a decent amount of off-the-shelf forum software out there and a text-and-small-images forum isn't prohibitively expensive, but it's never going to be huge and you're never going to have the kind of spread and virality and random connections that you would on a platform with millions or billions of users.

If you can't set up a forum, setting up or joining a discord server for your friends is a decent enough option at the moment, and may be a very good option for people who are looking to keep their interactions more private.

But yeah i think right now is a great time for people to start setting up their own personal websites, to start visiting actual webpages again, to start bookmarking their friends' websites, and to start collecting contact info that isn't tied to platforms.

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bonny-kookoo · 2 years ago

Text

Jungkook

𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲 | Part 3

How is he going to pull himself out of this one, when the signs all point to one thing?

Tags/Warnings: Game Designer!Jungkook, Non Idol AU, established relationship, Angst [Tags will be different for every part!]

Length: 1k Words

There is no taglist for this fic.

Collab with @euphoricfilter ! 💜

-> Masterlist

A/N: hitting you with the double angst spicy meal today yum yum yum

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Going out without Jungkook isn't really fun at all- especially not when you're mad at him, and didn't even plan on going out anyways.

But you've been hoping at least a little bit deep down that it would help him realize that you're not gonna just stay home and be his maid all day- something that apparently had become his new reality. And when you come back home, there's hope- the lights are still on, bedroom door open as well. Has he been waiting? Is he gonna apologize for once?

You technically learned to always expect the unexpected with him during your relationship, but nothing could've prepared you for the sight you're witnessing inside the shared room- because he's fast asleep, snuggled beneath the covers as if there's nothing wrong at all.

The crushing devastation of that alone, the fact that he can just sleep while you've always stayed up, mind unable to rest if he's not in sight or near you, just too much to handle. You've got half a mind to just throw him out the bed, but he's got his weight and amount of hours in the gym on his side- it'd be too much of a hassle, and right now, you really don't want to deal with him any longer. So you just turn off the lights, take some blankets, and close the door to make yourself comfortable on the couch for tonight instead.

You just can't take this anymore.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

The next morning he's out already, having left you a note in messy handwriting about something needing to be shipped out, so he'd be back later today after bringing the packages to the post office. There's a wonky looking crying face drawn next to a 'sorry for last night', and you just crumple up the note to throw it into the trash, since that's all his words are to you at this point.

There has to be a reason he's acting like that- and you want to figure it out, even if you don't like what you'll discover.

Booting up his pc would take way too long since you're not sure how long he's gonna be out- and you also feel a little bad about invading his privacy like that, so you instead occupy yourself with putting the blankets away and at least making yourself late breakfast. But the laptop on the kitchen counter, left by him probably in a hurry, is too enticing to ignore.

It's still on standby too, blinking light on the side taunting you to open it up.

Giving into temptation, you open it- just to be faced with a screen that tells you it's locked by the main administrator. A passcode? Since when did he have that?

Jungkook and you have never really hidden anything from one another. He knows the passcode to your phone, and he even has your fingerprint and face-ID saved on his own- so why the sudden secrecy? It's clear from yesterday that he's keeping something from you, and you're not sure how to feel about that. Is he..

no. He wouldn't. Right?

Then again, he really just went from having sex almost daily and clinging to you at random times a day to zero libido and no interest whatsoever- so there must be something going on. Is he getting his fill somewhere else? Has he found someone who can love him better than you?

"I'm ba- oh?" He looks at you like the deer caught in the headlights same eyes and all, frozen in his spot as he caught you in the act, your angry face and stance obviously signaling your unhappiness still. Well, what did he think was going to happen? That you'd just accept his antics and not ask any questions? That some pancakes from your favorite place down the street are just gonna solve the situation he himself has been creating?

....a little. But he's not that stupid.

You storm off without a word, as he sighs and runs a hand over his face, putting the pancakes on the kitchen counter to instead shower first, needing to get his head free and reset his body so he can figure out a way to at least pacify your rage for now. He's so close to finally getting it done- you'll just have to wait a little longer, and he's gonna make it all worth it.

But to you, his shower doesn't look like just a need for a physical reset- it just seems to add color to your worst fear that's been brewing beneath your skin, poisoning the blood in your veins.

And when you take his phone from the bed, you're slapped right across the face again- as the phone doesn't recognize it at all, the password you're tapping in wrong just as much, causing the phone to vibrate and demand a proper input. This is stupid. Why is he suddenly hiding his every move it feels like? It can't be anything other than that- and yet you want to think it's not it. That he's not this heartless. He's always been a romantic and obsessed with true love- granted, his idea of romance was a little odd, but it was still uniquely his, and always honest and genuine.

He used to care about you so much. Where did that go?

When he steps out the shower, the round eyes make an appearance again, body running ice cold at the sight of you sitting on his bed with his phone in your hand. Fuck- what's he going to do now?

"Since when did you change your passcode?" You want to know, voice a lot more fragile than you hoped it would be. You don't want to seem so weak in front of him now. You want to scream and yell, in fact. Punch his stupid pretty face until he feels just as hurt as you do in this moment.

His lips part, but he's not saying anything.

"And since when did you lock your laptop?" You ask, but still- he doesn't give you an answer at all as he instead nervously licks his lips, and plays with the piercings.

And then, his phone vibrates- and it shows that he's not been as thorough in hiding as he thought he was. Because the messages and notifications are still displayed. And this message makes your stomach drop as you read it.

[Maria: Alright, I'm so excited! Next time let's d...]

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #bts smut #jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook imagines #jungkook x y/n

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ginnsbaker · 2 years ago

Text

Bulletproof (6/10)

Part Summary: It's three months after the attack on the compound and you lost your invincibility against bullets.

Chapter word count: 2.6k+ | Tags: Light Angst, Still UST, Still gay

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Next Part | Series Masterlist

The sound of the doorbell at “Café Lumière” reverberates around the room, your heart reacting before your head can even register it. It's the softest of sounds, but it pulls you like a siren's song. Every fiber of your being is acutely aware of that door, with both trepidation and hope hinging on its every swing.

Steam curls up from the frothing milk, whispering past your fingertips as they work on a delicate latte art. Your focus is unwavering, yet as the door chimes again, your heart skips. You risk a glance, your hope suspended for that split second, only to crash back down when it's not her.

Louisa's eyes, which have been watching you mischievously for some time now, find yours.

“Clock's ticking,” she teases, nodding toward the ornate clock hanging precariously on the wall. “Not 3pm yet.”

You feign confusion, but your playful smirk gives you away. “What are you going on about?”

She grins knowingly. “Your weekly muse isn't due for another... oh, ten minutes or so?”

An exaggerated sigh escapes your lips, the warm notes of roasted beans surrounding you like a comforting embrace.

“I'm not waiting for her, you know,” you say, though your voice lacks conviction.

Louisa smirks and pats your shoulder, “Sure, sure. Just give it time. She's never missed a Thursday, has she?”

As you're about to come up with a clever retort, a sharp sting on your finger draws your attention. You wince, looking down to see a thin, red line forming across your finger. Tearing the receipt from the register to hand to the awaiting customer, you’re slightly taken aback at how much the cut bleeds.

“Everything alright?” the customer asks, noticing the blood.

"Yeah, just a small paper cut," you dismiss, trying to downplay it. Grabbing a napkin, you press it against the cut, soaking up the crimson liquid.

Louisa's sharp eyes don't miss a beat. "Careful there. Those can be nasty," she comments, retrieving the first-aid kit from under the counter.

Louisa holds out a bandage, but you shake your head, not wanting to make a fuss over something so minor. “Really, I'm good,” you assure her.

A few seconds later, you open the napkin to check the cut. To your surprise, the skin seems perfectly whole, as if it had never been broken in the first place. You flex your finger, the earlier sting now a distant memory. “See? I'm fine,” you declare, shrugging.

Louisa tilts her head, narrowing her eyes in astonishment. “That healed incredibly fast. You sure you're okay?”

You chuckle, deciding to make light of the situation. “What can I say? Maybe I have superpowers.”

A soft clearing of the throat interrupts the moment. The customer, who you hadn't realized was keenly observing the entire exchange, raises an eyebrow. “Can I get some napkins, please?”

Flustered, you quickly hand a bunch over. “Of course, sorry about that.”

Louisa grins at you mischievously as the customer leaves, “Superpowers, huh? That's a new one.”

The doorbell rings out, pulling your attention instantly. You lift your gaze, hope surging momentarily, only to see the same customer making her way out. The door gently shuts behind them, the anticipation that had built up inside you deflating.

Louisa, noticing the brief flicker of disappointment in your eyes, nudges you playfully. “Don't look so down,” she says, her tone light and teasing. “She’ll be here. You know how punctual she is. Maybe she's just running a bit late today.”

You give a half-hearted chuckle. “Yeah, maybe.”

“I wonder though why she never gives her name,” Louisa muses.

“Hm?”

“You know, for the cup,” she clarifies.

You shrug. “Some people love their privacy, I guess.”

Hours seem to stretch endlessly, the weight of the clock's hands growing heavier with each passing minute. The crowd in the café starts to thin as evening nears. Although the store is open 24 hours a day, seven days a week, your shift only lasts until 8. And in the midst of the dwindling crowd, one spot remains unclaimed—the corner seat by the window, the one she always chooses.

She is the sole reason you continue working here despite your persistent restlessness. Pouring coffee for hundreds of customers daily never truly satisfies you, even when some tip generously. There's an inexplicable nagging feeling, suggesting this isn't where you belong or what you should be doing.

Yet, what anchors you between the register and the espresso machine is the girl who comes in every Thursday, late in the afternoon, always punctually, sometimes a few minutes early. It's disconcerting and exhilarating, this sudden shift of your universe tilting on its axis. You've never been one to believe in love at first sight or fated connections, but there’s something in the way she holds herself, something in her gaze that tugs at strings you didn’t even know existed.

But even if you can write the sweetest song or the most evocative poem about every titillating thing about her, it’s just a crush.

A crush that will lead to nothing. Not because you've attempted to ask her out or because she's already spoken for.

It's because your very existence is shrouded in uncertainty.

The past few months have been a jumble of rehab appointments, therapy sessions, and sleepless nights trying to piece together fragments of memories that always seem just out of reach. Surviving that near-fatal crash was a miracle in itself, but the loss of your past—it took away a part of who you were. Or who you're supposed to be.

Every day, you grapple with an identity you don’t recognize, yearning for some semblance of the person you once were. A glance at the reflection in the coffee machine shows a face still unfamiliar. Eyes that hold stories you can’t read, a curve of a smile that feels out of place. When people share anecdotes from their past or talk about family and childhood, all you can offer is a nod, a practiced smile, and a tightness in your chest that never truly fades.

And how could you possibly burden her with this emptiness?

The small apartment you return to every evening, given by a private charity, is filled with borrowed things and a life that doesn't truly feel like yours. They said you had no family, no one waiting or weeping for your recovery. Your recovery was overseen by faceless benefactors who, for some reason, deemed you worthy of a second chance. Yet, every evening as you unlock your door, you wonder if you truly deserved it.

The beautiful woman who steps into the coffee shop every Thursday, with her air of confidence and those captivating eyes, deserves more than what you currently are. More than this fractured self, teetering on the edge of self-discovery and despair.

What could you possibly offer her? Nights filled with stories of... nothingness? Days shadowed by the fear of not knowing who stares back at you in the mirror? She deserves someone who is rooted in memories, with stories to tell. Not this fragmented existence you live.

Perhaps it's safer this way, to admire her from a distance, to let her remain this source of hope and inspiration. A lighthouse guiding you through the stormiest nights. If you ever manage to find yourself again, then maybe, you'd take that chance.

Glancing at the clock again, it's 7:45 PM. Still no sign of her.

Dejectedly, you remove your apron and prepare to leave.

Wanda Maximoff blends into the bustling streets, the hood of her jacket pulled low over her face and her boots echoing a muffled cadence on the pavement. Dressed in tight denim and a nondescript hooded jacket, she hardly resembled one of the most powerful Avengers.

She mumbles a silent curse under her breath, glancing at her watch. She's late—later than she's ever been—and she hates it. Thursdays at the cafe are her only remaining connection to you.

She can see the cafe now, its warm light spilling out onto the street. She pushes the door and her eyes immediately scan the room, searching for that familiar face behind the counter. The disguise continues to work; to everyone, she’s just another customer. She doesn't draw the same attention here as she does in New York.

It’s North Carolina after all, and the town they put you in cares more about art than superheroes.

Louisa's attempt at nonchalance is commendable but slightly betrayed by the quick tightening of her lips and the slight flutter in her eyes. “Good evening,” she begins, voice as steady as she can manage. “Can I get you the usual today?”

Wanda's gaze, sharp and unyielding, remains locked on Louisa's face. “Where's Y/N?” she asks tersely.

“I'm sorry, ma'am, but I can't share information about our staff's schedules.”

She pauses, letting the words settle before adding, “If you're looking to see Y/N, perhaps you can drop by tomorrow between 2 pm and 8 pm.”

“Oh,” Wanda mutters softly.

Vision, in his human disguise, comes up behind her. “Wanda, we should go,” he murmurs, attempting discretion, but Louisa catches his words nonetheless.

Wanda hesitates, her posture rigid. “I needed to see them, Vis,” her voice is laced with a quiet desperation, a yearning for something—or someone—lost.

“I know,” he replies softly. “But they aren’t here. And we can always go back tomorrow.”

“I just have a feeling,” Wanda says. “Maybe this time, they’ll—”

“You’ve had that feeling for weeks now, but nothing has changed.”

They've lowered their voices to whispers, forcing Louisa to strain her ears to catch the exchange between the two. Vision soon catches on to Louisa's subtle eavesdropping. Their conversation abruptly stops, and Wanda, a bit lost, looks up at him for an explanation. Vision subtly nods toward Louisa, signaling her presence.

Clearing his throat, Vision steps forward, deciding to divert attention. “A hibiscus tea, please,” he says.

Louisa, embarrassed at being indirectly called out, fumbles slightly before regaining her composure. “Of course. Name for the cup?”

“Victor,” Vision replies smoothly. With a nod, Louisa gets to work, while Vision takes a few steps to the side with Wanda, resuming their conversation in even lower tones.

Louisa sneaks occasional glances while pretending to be engrossed in her work. The two stand slightly apart, their conversation seeming both intimate and tense. Wanda's fingers fidget, wringing her hands, her lips moving quickly. Vision responds with a calming gesture, fingers grazing her forearm.

The steamer hisses as Louisa finishes the hibiscus tea, her curiosity deepening.

Setting the cup on the counter, she clears her throat. “Order for Victor!”

No reaction.

With a little more force, she calls again, “Hibiscus tea for Victor!”

Again, no response.

The cafe grows impatient, a soft buzz of conversation fills the air, and a few customers shoot curious glances at the duo.

“Victor!” Louisa exclaims, this time with a touch of impatience.

At this, Vision finally turns, the gentle hum of their conversation breaking. He approaches the counter, his blue eyes apologetic. “I'm sorry,” he says, taking the cup from her hands. “Thank you, Louisa.”

Louisa simply nods, her gaze flitting between the pair. As they head towards the exit, she can't help but wonder about the nature of their relationship with you and what has them so concerned.

Three months ago

“You can’t do this to them.”

Wanda's voice crackles with anger and a hint of desperation, her collected demeanor fraying at the edges. The holographic projections of the globe, pinpointing potential locations and glimpses of Y/N's impending new life, bathe Wanda's face in a cold blue light, each flicker taunting her with the reality of your imminent departure.

Flashbacks flicker behind Wanda's eyes, pulling her into that harrowing moment. She feels you in her arms again, your life seeping away between her fingers. She's surrounded by dust-covered streets, crumbling buildings, and the deafening silence after the explosion. Your blood, vibrant and so, so red, pooling at the ground beneath you, staining Wanda’s shoes. She's paralyzed, every second stretching into an eternity, every breath a labor.

She was so slow, so clouded by fear. Why didn't she act faster? Why didn't she see the signs? Could she have saved you?

It was Steve's voice that brought her back to reality. “Wanda! We need to move!” She barely registered the panic in his voice, the way he swiftly and gently took you from her, laying you on a makeshift stretcher.

Every moment after that feels like an agonizing irony to Wanda. She knows grief and loss intimately, but this... this is an entirely different kind of pain. The trauma of watching you battle death is only overshadowed by the realization that while you might physically be here, mentally, the person who risked their life for her twice has disappeared.

In the quiet spaces of her heart, she acknowledges a truth she's been running from: she's spent so long building walls, so long pushing away the vulnerability that came with connecting deeply with someone, out of fear. Fear of loss, of pain, of being too raw and open. With you, those walls had started to crumble, brick by brick, but not fast enough.

She wishes she could go back, to relive those moments with the knowledge she has now.

“You can't do this to them,” she murmurs again, the words more for herself than anyone else.

Steve stands across from her, hands on the table, his posture rigid yet his face betraying a deep sadness. “Wanda, it's not about what I want or what you want. It's protocol.”

Wanda's face contorts with anger, her voice rising, “Protocol? Y/N isn't some object to be managed! They have rights, feelings, memories—”

“Which they don't even remember!” Steve interjects, his rarely-seen frustration surfacing on this particular occasion.

“You can’t just... toss them into the world like they're yesterday's news, Steve,” Wanda hisses with barely-contained anger. They remain the lone figures in the meeting room after the team unanimously voted to craft a new identity for you, placing you in a secluded town, untouched by global news, let alone the cosmic battles waged galaxies away.

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. “Wanda, it’s not about 'disposing' anyone. The protocol is clear. If a super loses their powers, they reintegrate. Y/N can't live in the compound because they no longer belong in this world of chaos and danger.”

“Because they're powerless?” Wanda’s eyes blaze. “Or because they're no longer of any use to the cause?”

“It’s not like that and you know it,” Steve says, stepping closer to Wanda and meeting her gaze. “Y/N has lost their memory, they don’t remember any of this—any of us. Keeping them here would only confuse and possibly hurt them.”

“They just sacrificed everything for me. And now you want to push them aside because it's convenient?”

“No,” Steve replies, “Because they’ve done enough. They’ve given enough. Don’t you think they’ve earned the right to a peaceful life? The privilege of normalcy?”

Her green eyes shimmer with unshed tears. “All I’m saying, Steve, is that they should have the choice. And right now, we’re taking that away from them.”

“Your girlfriend showed up last night.”

You whip your head around to look at Louisa so quickly, it feels like you might've given yourself whiplash.

“Come again?”

Louisa grins, tying her apron around her waist with a knowing smirk. “You heard me. Your Thursday regular? Gorgeous, and those piercing green eyes? She came by looking for you after you left.”

Your eyes widen, heart racing. “That doesn’t mean she’s my... girlfriend.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Louisa teases, leaning in closer. “She seemed pretty keen on finding you. Even asked for you by name. Speaking of which... guess who found out her name?”

Your mouth opens in surprise. “Y-You did?”

Louisa nods, a smirk on her lips. “Wanda. Her name’s Wanda.”

“Wanda,” you repeat, savoring the name as it slips from your lips.

Putting a name to such an unforgettable face changes everything. But like so many things that have recently unfolded, you just don’t know the significance of it yet.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #captain america civil war #the avengers #vision

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kiyomitakada · 8 months ago

Text

This is for research, Light reasons. Curiosity. He’s been on plenty of Kira fanwebsites; it makes sense to conduct an impromptu survey on how he’s seen in a rather different audience.

Research.

He holds his breath and clicks.

Title: got so close (but then you lost it) Rating: E Category: F/F Fandom: Kira Investigation RPF, how the fuck is that a canon tag Ship: L/Kira Tags: Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Object and Concept Anthropomorphism, i think kira should take the L for once, if you know what i mean - Freeform

Notes: hahahahahaa hiiiii yall bet you thought you’d seen the last of me. its been a couple of rough months but im back! if my therapist sees this uh. sorry? this counts as processing my feelings right

Maybe Light should stop. Surely a work written by someone who doesn't even use apostrophes or punctuation consistently can't be good quality. Besides, what is a work about a serial killer doing in the E rating? Doesn't that mean E for Everyone?

…Then again, it's not like he's reading this for its literary value, he reasons. It's just. Research. Curiosity. If it's really bad, maybe he can make fun of it with Ryuk.

Kira throws the doors of the final room open. Her voice rings out loud and clear: "Where are you, L? Hiding like a coward?" She receives no answer. Kira exhales, brushing her free hand against her T-shirt. There's no need to hurry. She has all the time in the world; the alarms are disabled and she's killed all the guards, after all. Tracking down L's hidden compound had been the difficult part. It was easier than pie to break in. At last, she thinks, this will be her perfect victory.

Oh god. Oh god, someone put effort into this. Light doesn't know whether to be flattered or horrified.

(Why can he hear this in his voice?)

The control room is silent but for the humming of thousands of monitors mounted on the walls, all displaying static now thanks to Kira's interference. "I know you're there, L," Kira says, taking one step forward. Then another. "You can't hide from me forever." "You're right," says a new voice. "I wasn't hiding in the first place." Kira turns towards it, gripping her scythe in one hand—

"My what," Light says aloud.

—and nearly gasps when she identifies the source: the large L painted on the back wall. Her mind whirls. Another recording, just like the one a million people had heard from the TV that day. L's hiding behind an image again. "Very funny," Kira says. She's blocked all the escape routes; the real L must be in this room somewhere. "Show yourself." "As you wish." And then the painted L peels off the wall. Kira jumps back despite herself. The scythe clatters to the ground. The L is just a few centimeters taller than her, a fact that Kira instinctively resents, and it's the same font as what Kira had seen on television: the smooth vertical curve, the jagged angle, the protrusions from the spine. Her heartbeat quickens. Kira, despite being a magical girl—

"I'm a what?!"

—is ultimately still human. This… thing is decidedly not.

"Why am I the human one," Light mutters. She — he hasn't quite gotten the hang of this 'archive' yet, but he's searching for ones where he has wings later.

"What are you?" Kira asks, trying to flatten the tremble in her voice. "I am L," says L. "And I'm a girl, just like you." "You're a letter," Kira says. "An alive letter." "I wasn't always this way," L says. Its — her? — voice is matter-of-fact. "But it was… easier." "Easier to what?" "Tell me, Kira," L says. "Do you ever feel… uncomfortable in your own skin? Do you ever feel like you were born to be something else, something greater, something beyond your original form? Do you ever feel like you died a very long time ago?" Kira swallows, and stays silent. "Well, it doesn't matter," L dismisses. "It's far too late for you to change." "It's too late for anyone to change," Kira corrects. "You've seen recidivism rates. Criminals are rotten all the way to the core."

"That's not right," Light mumbles. Kira isn't just trying to get rid of all evil people in society; Kira is trying to scare everyone into being better. Of course behavior can be changed, corrected. What's the point of a new world if people can't improve on themselves?

…Then again. Light can't help but agree, just a little. Some people are beyond help.

(They have to be. Otherwise, why would the Death Note have dropped into her life?)

(She's doing the world a favor, honestly.)

"And what about me?" "Huh?" "Am I," and L leans in further, the serif tail at the top of the letter almost brushing Kira's cheek, "rotten to the core?" "I…" In an attempt to tear her gaze away from L, Kira finds herself tracing the lines of the letter with her eyes: the mathematically perfect arcs of her back interrupted by those sharp spikes of decoration. She feels herself oddly compelled to touch them.

Light pointedly does not think about the real L's hair.

What is she doing? Kira shakes her head, snapping out of her reverie, and dives for the scythe. Her fingers wrap around it just as she crashes into L's two-dimensional feet and L folds like a blanket, covering her in unexpected warmth before Kira scrambles back to her feet. "Monster," she shouts, pointing the scythe decisively, "I see you thus and I name you L!"

Well. That explains the magical girl thing. In retrospect, it does make more aesthetic sense than the notebook.

The scythe sparks; a beam of light bursts from its tip and — Stops. Kira watches in horror as it fizzes into nothing. A low chuckle fills the room. Something hot surges in Kira's chest: fury. "A bit difficult to conduct your magic when I have no face, isn't it," L says. She's shifted to lounge languidly on the floor, rather than sprawled awkwardly across it. "That's not — fair! Just looking at you should be enough!" "The world isn't fair, my dear Kira," L says. "As I'm sure you know best." Kira's free hand clenches into a fist. There's nothing for it. She's going to have to strangle this letter-girl. She's going to have to stop her breath at its root. "Well, Kira? What are you going to—" Kira drops the scythe and pounces. L twists away too late; Kira is already on her, one foot hooked over the bottom stroke of the letter to prevent her from running, her hands straining towards the juncture between L’s serif and vertical curve. L is so very warm, almost searing under Kira’s fingers as they close around her throat. L groans. The heat in Kira’s chest abruptly changes directions to pool in her stomach. It occurs to her distantly that if L can’t be counted as having a face, it’s entirely possible that she doesn’t need to breathe, either. Kira can’t bring herself to care. Here L is, her worst enemy, completely under Kira’s thumb — the exhilaration leaves Kira’s throat dry. "What do you think of that, L?" She tightens her grip. L makes a choked sound; the two lines of the letter’s throat shudder beneath Kira’s fingers. "You like that?" "Please," L gasps, "I need—" "Use your words," Kira hisses. Curiosity drives her to slide a finger into the crack between the two lines that make up L’s vertical stroke, and to her vicious delight L whimpers. "Come on, L, what do you want?" "Keep doing that," L says. The cool voice from the public broadcast, rendered into shreds. Kira desperately wants her to shut up forever. She unconsciously shifts her weight against L’s bottom stroke, hungry for friction. "Oh god, Kira, I…" "Yeah?" Kira wedges a second finger in, and has to bite her lip to stifle a moan when L bucks against her. "I dreamed about this," L manages, low like a confession. "Dreamed about y

"Light, Sayu! Time for dinner!"

Light slams her laptop shut so quickly she thinks she sprains a finger.

"Coming!" She yells downstairs, wincing at how out of breath she sounds.

Jesus fucking Christ. What was that? Why did she keep reading?

And. And wait. She? No, he. Light’s a he, no matter what weird people on the internet think, the same way L isn’t actually a letter. Right. She must have just gotten confused.

…He must have just gotten confused. Obviously.

(Something in Light’s ribcage pangs.)

He wills the blood away from his cheeks. He shouldn’t be surprised, frankly. Light is perfectly aware there’s porn of everything on the internet, even if it is marked E for Everyone.

…Wait.

Light opens his laptop again, scrolls as fast as he can to the top, then hovers over the E.

Oh. Ohhhh. Well. How was he supposed to know, he sulks. There should be a huge banner proclaiming THERE’S SEX IN THIS FAN FICTION for ease of access to first-time users. The world is truly rotting.

"Light?"

"On my way!"

Light shuts his laptop again, more gently this time, and opens the door.

Do you ever feel like you died a long time ago?

It is far too easy to imagine L’s mouth moving around the words.

Light closes her eyes against it. What a ridiculous question.

She can hear Ryuk’s laughter the whole way down.

[ @deathnotetober day 9: crack ship ]

#light yagami #l lawliet #lawlight #death note #deathnotetober #sorry (not really)#tfw your egg is almost but not quite cracked by rpf about you. sad !#transfem light yagami #for the maybe three people who follow that tag #crackfic!L is transfem here also but its not as important #choking cw #i guess

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siffrins-therapist · 1 year ago

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🦄unihorns4salenotscam follow

can the nation-people rpf shippers STOP posting their headcanons and fic in the main tag????? People use the main tag for REAL information and news about the reps!

🚬fruityfag follow

says the person wiht a link to their scotnor fics in their pinned

🦄unihorns4salenotscam follow

did I say anything about NOT writing nation-people rpf AT ALL?? No?? I said to keep it out of the 👏MAIN👏 TAG. piss on the poor ass website I swear.

🌋hallgrimskirkjafucksnotredame follow

Yo guys? I think one of the nation-people found this post. Mr France literally posted this an hour ago:

🥑anavocadothaaaaaaaanks follow

NOT EVEN A THOUSAND NOTES??? I FEEL LIKE I'VE SEEN THIS EVERYWHERE

9123 Notes

🧭lostwanderer69

Hey uh........... did anyone tell the US rep that those panera bred lemonades are hella caffeinated??

🧟zombie--davie

how. how many did he drink?

🐗40to50wildhogs follow

He's literally immortal he's fine.

🦬alfredfjoneshater follow

FUCKING 12????????????????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

👻givemeblueflowers follow

He was in the middle of drinking lemonade 13 when he kicked the bucket. Some tiktoker was recording him on a Live

👑lotrmonarchist

apparently he was with m. Denmark. who. kept drinking more lemonades until the manager cut him off...

🥀valentinorose follow

P sure dude said once he ate hellebore like salad. Not surprised.

👑lotrmonarchist

i thought he only said that to make historians leave him alone

🧭lostwanderer69

No no, I believe it

869 Notes

🪆theinn3rm3

OK. Let's settle this.

3 Notes

🎪thenightcircusstolemylunchmoney follow

🏴stopdraininmeswamp-deactivated

Anyone else notice he does this when some senator or w/e pisses him off?

🏒ruscanhockeyrpf follow

the fbi got him

#war thunder #nation people bs

10.8K Notes

❄️snowmiserbottomsurgery follow

not the swifties acting racist af after mr. korea called taylor "that one a-pop artist" 💀💀💀

❄️snowmiserbottomsurgery follow

me looking at the notes ONE FUCKING HOUR after i hit post:

🧟‍♀️realzombiedavie

I'm convinced tswifts has mind control powers like how england sees fairies or miss belarus sees ghosts

🥐iaminlepain follow

Everyone needs to stop spreading around that the nation people have magic powers it's been proven again and again that it's fake.

☕blackcoffeegayweexist follow

realzombiedavie why'd you use an honorific for Miss Belarus but not Mr. England?

🧟‍♀️realzombiedavie

Cuz I actually respect Miss Belarus lmao

#RIP to OPs notes #turning off my asks in case england stans come after me again

14.2K Notes

📰nationrep-rpf-confessions follow

Dear god wtf is up with all the colonizer/colony (or ex-colony) ships lately??! I know RPF is already a gray area morally, but can we at least not be gross about it?!

✂️ausprutoxicyuriscissoring

This is some of the most low effort bait I've ever seen.

12 Notes

📎cl1ppyrev1val follow

Thanks for using my correct pronouns tho ig?

📍geoguessr-lowscore follow

the "schrodinger's country person" is sending me

🗡️teutonicsword follow

#negative tag #nation people mention #doesn't op write liechtenstein x reader? why's anon salty about the pruliech?

if anon's the person i'm thinking of, they selfship with Miss Liechtenstein and harrass anyone else that selfships with her or ships her with another cuntry-person

#oh god i'm p sure i know who anon is #hasn't staff termed them like 6 times? #how many accounts have they made?

593 Notes

🐻‍❄️hibernatingkumaku follow

@ everyone asking me for the link here it is enjoy.

#hetalia #fake tumblr dash #dashboard simulator #i spent too much time on this

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veinsfullofstars · 3 months ago

Note

18. 💓 How did they tell their friends that they were together/do their friends know or is their relationship a secret?

for metadede?

this one might be hard to extract from your childhood friends AU (and i admittedly am mostly thinking about bow and para when i ask), but you said you'd prefer to avoid AU stuff so if you don't want to answer this for that reason let me know and i can send a different one!! 💖

Oh, it’s not a problem, Starflung - I’m finding that my general headcanons and my AU headcanons match up more than I thought for some of these prompts, haha. And, luckily, I have an AU answer for this one! Er, kind of. After all, we’ve only gotten a teeny tiny glimpse at the day it happened, and I do very much want to explore the full context of that at a later point (*winces at the 80k wordcount in my notes*). But I think I’m okay with sharing this: that spontaneous first kiss was very much out in the open and happened in front of a few significant people. This is what happened approximately ten minutes after, both on Popstar-

-and on the GSA recruitment ship leaving the planet.

Plenty of teasing for only just now getting their acts together, but also a lot of love and support. DDD’s mama is elated to see “her boys” finally take the next step (though she does worry about the long-distance thing). Para is relieved to no longer have to carry the secret DDD confided in him not so long ago. Bow is… processing things, both about their friends and themself. Ace and Fringe are still trying to navigate how to be nice to the kid they spent years treating like dirt. Where they go from here, well… that’s for another time, I’m afraid. We still have much to learn about how they even got here let alone fell in love along the way…

Sketch started 02/20/25, sketch finished 02/22/25. | Kirby Ship Ask Game (made by @/sweetandglovelyart) and alternate questions | Childhood Friends AU Masterpost

(there was no more room in the tags, so I'll just drop my extra comments down here:)

#this does feel a bit spoilery… but I guess I did already show the kiss and said from the start this was pre-ship so #someday we’ll learn about all the [REDACTED] that lead to this moment… #little sack of potatoes DDD #tiny bundle of bat wings Meta #also some unexpected character reveals yay! #(after spending approximately forever chipping away at them in the Concept Mines... and even then I'm not sure I'm fully sold on 'em yet) #(might need another pass or two before I consider them finalized... but anyway) #say hi to Bebebe - DDD’s mama; and Ace and Fringe - MK’s “friends” (at least at this point in the story) #they are IMPORTANT and hopefully I will have the energy to tell you why someday #(though don’t let that stop you from asking about them if you’re curious - I'm sure I got tidbits)

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fattummyt · 2 months ago

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Mauga (Overwatch)/Plus-Size Female Reader - Hubba Hubba - Chapter 1 🌶

Ship: Maugaloa Malosi x Plus-Size Female Reader

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, reader drinking alcohol, Mauga wearing that ugly shirt, Mauga is a giant walking red flag as it is.

Tags: flirtation, suggestive jokes, Mauga is THIRSTY and You're a Tall Drink of Water

Author's Notes: Listen, I KNOW it's been like 5 years since I posted it. I knoow I'm boo boo the fool. AO3 readers, you may throw tomatoes at me at dawn. Just know that chapter 2 and a possible chapter 3 is on it's way. And it might be smutty.

Summary: Nguyen made it clear to Mauga that this mission to Port-au-Prince was not supposed to be a vacation for them. Mauga understood that very well, but that didn't stop him from ditching the walking-talking Vietnamese rule book the second he took his eyes off him. Talon had them staying in a prepaid all-inclusive resort and he planned on taking advantage of that-- but when he encountered you, a queen-sized babe determined to read your book and catch some rays, all bets are off.

Read it on AO3 here!

Chapter 1: Humina Humina

Port-au-Prince reminded him of home enough, but he truly wouldn't be home if he wasn't near the water.

The wading pool would have to do for now.

His mere presence, his larger-than-life personality, his tattooed bare chest and arms, and the white stripe in his hair had driven any nearby guests running to the safety of their suites.

He didn't mind. The last thing he needed was to blow his cover on such an important trip, but in his heart of hearts, he was a people person who loved to socialize.

You walked right on by him and did little to acknowledge his presence aside from glance his way as he raised his arms behind his head, sure to flex his already bulging pecs and biceps.

Your attention quickly flickered away as you seemed completely unimpressed with his show of theatrics.

Normally he'd take the hint: headphones on, a book, and a large pair of dark sunglasses, but he decided to forego all of your clear efforts to remain alone and pursue you in your yellow two-piece off-shoulder ruffled top with high waisted multicolor bottoms.

And to top it all off, a rack that could tow a trailer.

He had quite an-- to put it lightly-- infatuation, with the bigger, heavier, fatter gyals. More so now than ever, considering most of the Talon operatives he interacts with are incredibly slim or otherwise, mostly men.

Nonetheless, his scarlet eyes followed your curved form, leaning forward in his seat for a better view of the ass and thighs betrayed by the loose nature of the cardigan tied at your waist.

"Damn, she looks good coming and going."

You could laugh at how noticeable he made himself as if his mere size weren't enough, he wore a horrid button-down Hawaiian shirt with large parrots all over it.

As you took a seat at a reclining bench not too far from him you caught yourself stealing another glance at the hopefully flammable shirt on the man.

You'd thought your gaze was masked by the nature of your sunglasses, but as soon as you met eyes he was quick with a smile, and as far as you were concerned, your participation in this little affair had ended there.

Mauga was lithe with excitement, it'd been some time since he met a woman that piqued his interest and he'd play what he believed to be this little cat and mouse game as long as he could before Nguyen came looking for him.

He'd already decided he'd pursue you and he didn't even know your name.

Every employee in the resort wore a baby blue polo shirt and white khaki shorts, so it wasn't difficult for Mauga to flag down an employee passing through.

His Haitian accent was clear when he greeted him. Even while seated Mauga was still easily the man's height.

"Hey, buddy. I got an important mission for you." He very subtly tipped his head toward you, whispering. "Get her the fanciest drink you got and let her know it's from 'the man with the white streak.'"

The man didn't bother asking for his room number, Mauga had been ordering towels and food so often, almost every worker was familiar with him now.

The man nodded dutifully before Mauga reached into his pocket, fishing out a row of bills and slipping it unabashedly into the man's smaller hand. "And make it quick."

He didn't need to tell him twice. The man zoomed off like he had realized his new purpose in life.

Mauga reclined in his seat, tossing his head over to eye your current activities. Your bench was flat as you laid atop your cardigan spread underneath you, resting on your stomach as you thumbed through the pages of a hardcover book.

Your sunglasses sat atop your head so he could now finally see the eyes that evaded his, but your nose was always somewhere else.

He needed to get your attention.

His eyes quickly found the wading pool. Even on its deepest side, the water would barely reach his mid-calf, nonetheless, he stood from his bench, giving a creak of relief before tossing away his dreadful Hawaiian shirt.

Now, his whole muscled upper body was on display and you took notice, watching as he fixed his long unruly hair into a makeshift bun atop his head, your eyes traced the intricate pe'a that decorated his chest and arms.

Mauga entered the water, letting it cool over his large feet before sitting across from you at the deepest side of the pool.

He didn't have to look at you to know he had you now, nobody could miss his presence, or, at least he thought so. The moment he'd nonchalantly glanced over you were laid on your back, your book hovering over your face.

He huffed dejected, but his hopes were soon restored when he saw the pool boy arrive, carrying a tray with an all-blue iced drink in a large margarita glass that looked to have an assortment of fruit in the bottom.

He smirked knowingly as both he and the man met eyes.

The man approached, almost startling you from your book as you rested it on the bench beside you.

"Sorry to bother you ma'am, but I have a grande margarita for you. Courtesy of the man with the--"

You grabbed the glass from his tray and quickly chugged the sweet slushy liquor leaving only a tiny umbrella and chunks of fruit in the glass as you handed it back to him.

"Tell whoever I said thanks, but I won't be accepting any more drinks."

Snapped from the shock of what just took place, the man simply nodded, glancing nervously over at Mauga and turning to leave.

Mauga watched in pure awe, at some point his mouth dropping open during the short-lived exchange.

You took to your prior position, laying down and digging back into your book.

He earned not even a look from you, but Mauga was seeing hearts, he thought he could feel his heart radiating in his chest.

You were too good at this game. He had to turn up the heat.

Or rather, let the alcohol do its thang.

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violettavonviolet · 9 months ago

Text

Percy Jackson fic rec's

All fics are finished and amazing! The word count goes up as it goes, all fics are completed, I've added the ships and ratings but do make sure to read the tags!

Fic's marked with a star haven't left my brain since I read them

Deep Sea Fury

HumbleservantofHypnos

Summary:

Someone stabbed Tyson’s eye, and Percy is unable to stop himself from going unhinged.

Nemesis had talked to him, whispered in his ear that the rule should be the same for everyone. An eye for an eye.

1.8k gen

Percy's Questers' Quests

WardofWinters (QoLife)

Summary:

Hi! I’m Percy of Questers Quests, where all Quests are dedicated to Kronos the Titan of Time, what can I do for you today? Mhm, okay, I understand, yeah we can do that, do you have any questions? -oh why do we dedicate our Quests to Kronos? Well, that’s because I’m sick and tired of my relatives harassing me. Anyways! We’ll have that Quest done for you by the end of the week, thank you for your business!

3.5k Genfic

Blood in the Wine *

mrthology

Summary:

“It’s a good thing that father of yours is so protective of you,” Dionysus said, joining the demigod on the beach the next night, looking cautiously out to the lapping waves to gauge his uncle’s mood.

The demigod blinked, eyes bright despite the lack of light.

Dionysus ignored his surprise and studied the demigod carefully, noting the faint hint of gold exuding from his skin.

Ah. Well then.

He could remember noting the same sheen to his own skin millennia ago now. Jackson was on the precipice of something, and only time would tell if it were madness or greatness.

——

Percy’s on the edge of something. Dionysus notices, even if Percy doesn’t want him (or anyone) to.

4.5k Percy/Dionysus

A Godly Quest

CaffeinatedFlumadiddle

Summary:

Paul is like… eighty percent sure that some of Percy’s so-called "quests" are all one big hoax. He isn’t able to prove it until he goes to Taco Bell at three in the morning.

5k gen

Sand Dollar Child

withay

Summary:

There's far too much divinity in Percy Jackson. It oozes from him, to the point where he's sometimes mistaken for Poseidon. Percy doesn't know this yet. All he knows is that this nereid is asking to borrow five drachmas.

6.4k percabeth gen

Of All That Breathe and Crawl Across the Earth

mrthology

Summary:

"All of you demigods are bred for war, for me," Ares said. "That's just a fact of life." He took another drag of his cigar, then snuffed it out on the bricks near Jackson's ear. "You're chess pieces to move as we want, and nothing more."

Jackson laughed, his voice echoing in the small alleyway in a way no mortals should. "I'm surprised you even know what chess is," he snapped. He grinned, all sharp teeth and eyes that saw far too much. "I thought that was more Athena's area. You're just carnage."

Ares tightened his grip, wanting to see the boy squirm. Jackson reminded him of someone from millennia past, a Hero still loved by the ages. Ares wished he could place who.

—

Ares takes notice of Percy Jackson. Even he isn't sure if it's a good thing, not when his very presence seems to bring back memories of things best left forgotten.

8k ares/percy mature

I know the end

Ghxst_Bird

Summary:

Ever since Tartarus there’s been something… strange about Percy. They all know it, they’ve all seen it. Obviously the gods know about it, too, but they’re about as helpful about it as Charybdis in a swimming pool.

Nico just hopes Percy will stop glaring at everyone who looks at Nico or Jason the wrong way… and preferably tell his godly relatives to not threaten doom on them all every time Percy so much as scrapes his knee.

8.3k genfic, percy&nico&jason

Get Under Your Skin Just Like A Bomb That's Ready To Blow

ashilrak

Summary:

“That was a mistake,” Ares says, walking beside him. “You’re not one to abandon your post. This is going to eat at you.”

Just like every other time he’s spoken with Ares, Percy is vibrating with anger. How dare Ares tell him what’s best for him. At his sides, he tightens his hands into fists tight enough he’s sure he’s drawn blood.

“What’s it to you?” he spits out.

“You’ve got war in your heart, boy,” Ares says. Percy can’t see his eyes because of his sunglasses, but he’s sure they’re glowing red like charcoal. “I can taste it.”

—

Or: Percy's struggling without a war looming over him, and who better to help him find his purpose than the God of War?

9k Ares/Percy explicit

What’s in a Name?

anxious_tofu

Summary:

Percy didn’t realize at the time that when his boyfriend came up to him one Friday afternoon with his coffee order in hand and a nervous grin on his face it was the beginning of the end.

After six months of dating, Apollo brings Percy to meet his family. This proves to be a mistake.

-----

All human/meet the family AU. Crack taken too seriously/ attempt at humor.

10.2k perpollo teen

The Burden of Our Mortal Misery *

mrthology

Summary:

“Get up,” Dionysus ordered.

Percy ignored him. As they always did, memories of Tartarus crept back, a hold on him that never quite left. Falling, falling, falling. Always falling, never quite clawing his way back to the surface.

Dionysus hauled him to his feet, hands a burning brand.

Percy panted and met his eyes, barely able to stand under the force of the god's divinity. He wondered if this was what people meant when they talked about the myths, why people loved and worshipped the gods and feared them in turn. Percy had never seen them as people to revere and love. They were cruel; petty. They had done nothing but treat Percy like a pawn in their schemes, then thrown him to the proverbial wolves once they’d been done with him.

But he thought he was beginning to understand. He felt tiny before Dionysus, insignificant. It was more of a comfort than Percy wanted to admit.

“What’s happening to me?”

—

Percy had left something of himself down in Tartarus, and he didn’t think he’d ever get it back. He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

12k Percy/Dionysus teen

The Drowned God

robindrake93

Summary:

It's Hermes job to summon all of the gods to the summer solstice meeting...and that includes the newest one: Percy Jackson. From that moment on, Percy's life changes forever. Again.

17k Percy/Hermes mature

Walking Backward Into My Own Myth

mrthology

Summary:

"You should have ascended years ago," Zeus said without preamble, looking down at Percy. The other Olympians, even his father, remained silent, watching the proceedings with uncharacteristic solemnity.

"I said no years ago," Percy snapped, rage making his voice tremble and hands shake. "I didn't want to be a God then, and I want to even less now. I've seen how horrible eternity is."

"You would defy the fates themselves?" Athena asked softly, leaning forwards with narrowed eyes. She looked more godly than Percy had ever seen her, to the point where it was nearly unbearable to look at her face. Percy did so nevertheless, glaring at the Goddess he'd lost almost all respect for.

"You had children die today," he snapped, desperate to return to Camp. "Annabeth could still die—hasn't she done enough?"

———

Or, Percy keeps living the same horrible day over and over and over again, regardless of what he does. Eventually, something will have to give. Percy just isn't sure what.

19k gen

Until you break, until you yield

Sappho_of_Space

Summary:

Despite everything that Percy did for the gods, he was still being used as a pawn. When an opportunity arises that Zeus can't ignore, Apollo will stop at nothing for his lover to return to his arms.

If people die in the process, that's not his problem.

27.4k Perpollo

Set in Stone *

CaffeinatedFlumadiddle

Summary:

“Find Medusa?” Percy spluttered, trying and failing not to sound indignant. “Nobody wants to find Medusa. You run into Medusa while trying to retrieve your uncle’s stolen lightning bolt and then mail her head to the gods after she keeps talking about how your eyes are like your father’s.”

From behind him, Piper raised a single finger. “When you mail what to whom?”

Percy glanced over his shoulder to give her a shrug. “Don’t worry about it. I was twelve,” he said before turning back to where Gabe was still fighting against the ropes binding his hands together. “Do you have any idea what to do with him?”

Nico leaned over, craning his neck to better peer at the hot sauce that still stained Gabe’s face despite the years of statue-ification. “Um, we could see if your dad wants to turn him into a fish or something?”

Percy grimaced. If Gabe Ugliano was a fish, then he’d be forced to hear the man’s voice in his head for years to come. But also, he could maybe mount him on a wall, so perhaps it wasn’t an entirely terrible idea.

Medusa’s sculptures are mysteriously coming back to life. Percy doesn’t think murder is an unreasonable action given the circumstances.

38k gen abuse via Gabe

Fishing in Alaska *

CaffeinatedFlumadiddle

Summary:

“This… this would qualify as a mental breakdown, right?” Triton asked, frowning over his shoulder to where Percy was still fuming in the corner. The lady at the counter curiously glanced over before lifting a questioning brow. “My brother – half-brother, technically, I have much better breeding – decided to run away from home to where our father can’t reach him and now he won’t leave. And now I can’t leave unless he leaves,” Triton continued. Percy opened his mouth to object that wasn’t what happened at all, but the tyrant only waved a hand to silence him. “He’s seen war or whatever, so if you could maybe just drug him then I’ll throw him into a suitcase and we can be out of here by the Summer Solstice!”

Silence. Finally, the woman cleared her throat and turned to Percy.

“I’m guessing he’s the one you want checked into the mental hospital?” She asked. Triton gasped as Percy punched the air in victory.

“Aha!”

Getting in trouble works a little differently when your parent is an all-powerful god. Sometimes you have to escape to the land beyond gods and get your immortal brother turned human to drag you back so you can be exploded a million pieces. You know, normal teenage stuff.

112k gen Percy&Triton

The Hero Unsung

SomePsychopomp

Summary:

“Oh gods,” Percy thought, “I got fucking isekai’ed.”

---

Thrown back in time and tossed onto the scorching shores of ancient Greece, Percy becomes the unwilling center of attention for an entire army. One destined to sail for Troy and wage a ten year war. If only they could appease the gods keeping them far from their destination first…

Meanwhile, Percy will have to make allies fast while navigating a pantheon of deities who have not yet been tempered by time. Because here, it’s not just the kings who have taken a terrible interest in him; Percy will soon learn just how painful the attention of a god can really be.

135k percy/achilles/patroculus

HAUNT ME, THEN— *

ashilrak, mrthology

Summary:

Percy collapsed once he reached the porch and looked up to a rickety ceiling fan. A moth darted around the light, drawing his attention. It was easier to focus on it than on what had happened. His mom, the strange recollections that dogged the edges of his memory, Grover, everything.

A stern and familiar man looked down at him, concern and apprehension written across his face.

“Hello, Kassandra.”

———

Or, when Apollo cursed Kassandra before the Trojan War, it didn’t go as planned. Now, millennia later, Apollo and Kassandra are still stuck in an endless cycle of death and rebirth. Percy Jackson doesn’t know why people keep calling him Kassandra, or why he’s plagued by memories; all he knows is that he didn’t want to be a demigod.

270k perpollo & Percy& Will

#percy jackson #fanfiction recommendation #ao3 #perpollo #angst

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piastri-lover · 2 years ago

Text

who would have guessed; alex albon

summary: in which you and alex are dropping hints about your relationship, and yet no one seems to be getting the hint

pairing: alex albon x celeb!reader

author's note: i fucking love alex albon and this prompt!! icl i dont know he's so underrated but i enjoyed making this sm xx

INSTAGRAM

yourusername 📍tulum, mexico

liked by pierregasly, zendaya and 17293057 yourusername summer time x view comments

user1 i love y/n so fucking much

user2 wife

user3 are u kidding i was lit in mexico two days ago and NOW the queen is here -user4 lit flew out this morning i could have met my wife

zendaya having fun? ;)) -yourusername don't know what u mean by that --zendaya ill keep my mouth shut

user5 after 3 months of oppenheimer filming y/n prob needs a break -user6 she slayed as jean though --user5 100%

user7 mexico is my country and i'm so glad u love it liked by yourusername -user7 omg y/n liked my comment im done

user8 whos she with -user9 idk but someone def took that 3rd photo

user10 why is pierre in the queen y/n's likes?? -user11 i bet he forgot to switch accounts and liked without thinking --user12 ariana what are u doing here

~~~

TWITTER

~~~

INSTAGRAM

yourusername 📍tulum, mexico

liked by sydney_sweeney, landonorris and 32017295 others yourusername thank u for the restuarant reccomendation, we loved it xx view comments

user13 mother is mothering

user14 she's so fit -user15 that scene in oppenheimer changed me as a person

user16 THERES A BOY -user17 omg omg omg this is not a drill

sydney_sweeney y/n... -yourusername ill call u later and fill u in babe

user18 first pierre, now lando -user19 the entire grid is simping for y/n and tbh i don't blame them

user20 the soft launch is beginning -user21 im so ready to analyse every screenshot to try and work this out first

user22 i need that dress

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

alex_albon replied to your story:

alex_albon ur fans are going wild on twt rn

yourusername really?? i haven't checked

alex_albon mhmm like they havent stopped speculating for hours im sure i saw someone ship u with fucking lando

yourusername he is kinda cute...

alex_albon oy

yourusername im kidding we still going out for dinner tonight??

alex_albon yup its me and you, george and carmen and lando lol

yourusername all good

alex_albon pick u up at 8?

yourusername counting down the minutes baby love u x

alex_albon love u more x

~~~

landonorris

liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc and 4103549 others landonorris my fave couples (im so alone) view comments

user23 umm

user24 lando babe i dont feel like u were supposed to post this

georgerussell63 he's passed out and i dont know his password idk what to do -user25 george are y/n and alex dating??? --georgerussell63 no lando was just feeling a bit silly

user26 george trying to defend alex and y/n when we obv know they're dating

alex_albon i let him take one photo and ofc he does this -yourusername at least we look cute --alex_albon we always look cute baby

user27 i wasnt sure about alex but look they're so wholesome

user28 im j wondering how tf alexander albon pulled the y/n -user29 me too --user30 like nothing against him but y/n is... well y/n

landonorris wait i thought this was my private

landonorris so so sorry -yourusername ur buying me a drink when we next go out --landonorris done and done ---alex_albon my girl has expensive taste lando u have completely shot urself in the foot

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

tagged: alex_albon liked by zendaya, pierregasly and 51294856 othersyourusername lando ruined my softlaunch(🖕🖕) but anyway i kinda love him so be nice xx view comments

user31 no bc theyre acc cute

user32 i hate to have to share my wife but it would be with him

landonorris ive apologised 1000 times idk what more to do -alex_albon she had the entire thing all planned out but no lando norris had to intervene --yourusername honestly im heartbroken i might need another bottle of champagne... ---landonorris fuck off y/n the last bottle was like £1000

alex_albon leng -yourusername appreciate it bro

alex_albon the last photo❤️❤️❤️-yourusername love u big man

user33 omg i hope we get to see her at a grand prix soon -yourusername im def coming to spa and we'll see after that

williamsracing already saving a seat for u -yourusername i cant wait xx

user34 dont know whether i want to be alex or her

user35 bi awakening -user36 fr

user37 sleeping on the highway tonight -landonorris ill be joining u --user38 landos so real for that

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mas-arte · 2 months ago

Text

DPxDC and it's predecessor (Miraculous Ladybug)

So.... if you're in the Danny Phantom fandom you are familiar with the subsection of this fandom obsessed with crossovers with the DC universe (especially with Batman & associates).

But I, along with many others, am cursed with the knowledge of the fact that there was/is another fandom that's crazy about crossovers with Batman. The Miraculous Ladybug fandom.

It's been driving me crazy thinking about the similarities and differences between DPxDC and MLxDC fandoms (don't worry I'm I an ashamed/proud member of both)

(I'm gonna be bringing up some AO3 stats later, so be excited nerds)

But first, I just wanna acknowledge that some similarities are just bc they are tropes common in a lot of crossover fic in general.

-Marinette/Danny is secretly related to one of the batfam

-Marinette/Danny escaping to Gotham to get away from Bad Situation

-My least favorite thing some fics have in common, (bc I find it unsettling and offputting) is that they have blue eyes and black hair so they're adoption bait for Bruce.

-a fun one (it's pushing it a little but whatever) is when it's revealed that to some degree the batfam is already a part of or connected to the other group in a non-familial way (ex: Alfred was Miraculous holder in the past, Jason is a halfa/revenant bc he died) . Although you could argue Jason being a halfa could also align with the tropes of training and bringing them into the group ala giving members of the batfam Miraculous.

-Mad at the Justice League for not intervening/ glad the Justice League isn't involved bc mind controlled super heroes would be bad

I'd love to hear what yalls favorite tropes in these are, as well as any parallels yall have picked up on.

Ships:

Marinette is, by a pretty wide margin, largely shipped with Damian Wayne (2024), with the next highest, Jason Todd, being way lower (850).

Meanwhile, Danny's biggest ship is with Jason Todd (604) with Tim Drake at second (399).

The 2 fandoms have a similar number of crossover batman fics (5935 vs 5400) so it looks to me like there is less shipping involved with the DPxDC fandom, but I don't want to do more statistics than I already have (maybe later?) so I'm not gonna say anything definitive for now.

I'm very intrigued by the difference in preferred batboy (???) and the difference in shipping content (maybe something to do with how often DPxDC like to de age/mentally destroy Danny ???)

Now it is time for the statistics!

So... Miraculous Ladybug is THE biggest non DC crossover the Batman tag has on AO3 (5935), but Danny Phantom is not far behind (5400). The third, White Collar, is not even close (1792). Batman is the most popular crossover in the ML and DP fandoms as well.

Of all the Batman crossovers, ML makes up 26.8% and DP makes up 24.43%. You might think that means that combined, ML and DP represent a little over half of all batman crossovers... and you would be right.

Even when you entirely remove the 91 crossover fics that include all 3 fandoms, they still make up 50.88% of the crossovers in the Batman tag!

At first glance, because they have more fics, it may appear like the ML fandom is just as, if not more, crazy about Batman than the DP fandom. But the the ML fandom is waaaay bigger.

Batman crossovers make up 7.82% of the ML fics on AO3.

DPxDC is on a whole other level with a whopping 22.6%. That's over 1/5. No wonder the crossover feels like it's everywhere! /neutral

Here's the table I used for most of the stats:

A couple notes:

-First, this data was collected late 03/24/25 so it may not be as accurate later.

-Second, the two boxes with asterisks have 2 numbers. The first is the number of crossovers with the fandom based on the Batman tag, the second is based on the crossovers with Batman in fandom's tag (ie, Miraculous Ladybug). I'm not sure why there was a discrepancy there. For my calculations I went with the numbers in the Batman tag, but I wanted to include both numbers in the table to be thorough.

Box D5 and D6 = what percent of the fandom are batman crossovers

Row 9 = what percent of all batman fics are crossovers with that fandom

Row 10 = what percent of batman crossovers are with that fandom.

#miraculous ladybug #danny phantom #danny phantom x dc #batman #AO3 #statistics #i love spreadsheet #Let me know if yall want me to crunch the shipping numbers #And also again please do let me know if there's anything that yall have noticed about one or both of the crossovers that I haven't

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erideights · 1 year ago

Text

With my 6th sense. (1)

Pairing: Hunter x fem! jedi reader

Rating: this is the first chapter let's take it slow

Wordcount: 2.2K

Chapters: (2) (3) (4)* (5)* (*not posted yet)

Warnings and tags: use of (Y/N) but I keep it as minimum as possible tho my writing style is in 3rd person, so it's a bit difficult! apart from that none really, just introduction to the story, slight mentions of war maybe, but i can already tell you, this will be an ''i hate you-to-love you'' (calling them enemies doesn't really fit in)

Summary: (This story happens about around a year before The Bad Batch is introduced in The Clone Wars) Another day, another suicide mission for the squad. This time commanded by a jedi general they've never hear about.

A/N: I'm back after MONTHS with a new hyperfixation and no one can stop me. I'm jumping really late to TBB ship but I guess I would give it a try. Or write it for myself. As always, I'll make it a small series, and I hope all of you will enjoy it ♥ (my main language is not english so sorry if there are some mistakes)

Side note: PLEASE read the intro with the voice of The Clone Wars intro, thanks.

Coruscant!

In the aftermath of the Republic's recent defeat in the growing war in the outer rim, the Jedi Order finds itself at a crossroads, and generals such as Mace Windu, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and (Y/N) convene to strategize their next move in a desperate bid to stop the advance of the Separatist invasions. As they discuss their next course of action, each voice carries the weight of the galaxy's fate. For the Republic's survival hangs in the balance, and only through unity and courage can they hope to emerge victorious against the relentless onslaught of their enemies.

"Feels like they can predict our every move," Master Mace Windu exhales, his eyes glued to the holomap of the base, his hand thoughtfully stroking his chin. The dim light of the briefing room casts a stern shadow on his face, reflecting the gravity of the situation.

"And it's not just that," Obi-Wan interjects, his voice carrying a mix of frustration and concern. "During our last mission, Anakin and I encountered a new type of battle droid..." He sighs heavily, shaking his head as if trying to dispel the memory. His eyes narrow as he recalls the encounter. "This droid kept its distance, observing us while we dealt with all the others. By the time it engaged, it had analyzed, memorized, and adapted to our combat patterns. It knew exactly how to dodge our attacks and counterattack almost instantly."

"Are you serious?" (Y/N) asks, her brows furrowed in disbelief, crossing her arms over her chest. That sounds like a nightmare. Sure, a sniper could take it out from a distance, but up close? For them Jedi, trained in close combat, it could be a real pain in the ass.

"Yeah, and that's putting it mildly," Obi-Wan replies, his voice tinged with worry. "Anakin believes it's still in the development phase. The droid's assembly was far from perfect, almost like it was a prototype. But if they keep working on it, refining it... it could become a serious threat."

The room falls into a tense silence, so thick it almost feels suffocating. The three Jedi and Commander Cody, standing to Obi-Wan's right and always ready to offer some tactical advice, know what this means: if they want to halt the development of these new droids, or at least stay a step ahead, they need to steal the blueprints, and the Separatist droid blueprints are securely kept in…

"Looks like one lucky squad’s gonna have the great honor of infiltrating Serenno," the younger Jedi breaks the silence with a touch of sarcasm, tapping a few buttons on the holo-map to display the planet in question. Almost unexplored, impossible to get ships close enough to scan it completely.

"That’s too reckless," Windu comments immediately.

"It’s a suicide mission," Obi-Wan agrees.

"It’s risky, but not impossible."

"You spend way too much time with Anakin."

"Actually, Anakin spends too much time with me," she corrects with a playful smirk, crossing her arms again and leaning back against one of the control panels behind her.

"If I may…" Cody interjects, stepping forward and nodding to formally request the floor. Windu acknowledges him with a nod of his own. "A mission like this needs a small team. No more than four or five soldiers, with one of you leading. And I know just the squad for the job."

"The 501st?" Windu asks, his brow raised, well aware of the battalion’s formidable reputation.

"No," Cody shakes his head, his helmet tucked under his left arm. "Clone Force 99. I've worked with them before. They’re elite commandos, defective clones with desirable and really convenient mutations. Their success rate on high-risk missions is 100%."

"But...?" (Y/N) catches a deep, well hidden hint of hesitation in the commander's voice and refuses to let it slide. She raises an eyebrow, tilting her head to the side to scrutinize him closely.

"But," Cody clears his throat, aware of how his words might sound for the Jedi, "let’s just say they’re an unconventional squad. Their methods don’t exactly mesh well with captains, commanders, or generals who aren’t flexible or willing to...improvise on the fly, or disregard orders from above."

"That description sounds vaguely familiar," Obi-Wan remarks, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he blatantly turns his head to look at her. She purses her lips and shrugs, as if the comment had nothing to do with her peaceful persona.

"I just like being practical, and let’s be honest, plans usually never work out as we would like them to. Following orders isn’t always the best option on the table when the situation becomes a life or death type of scenario."

"I think we’ve found the perfect person to lead this mission," Obi-Wan concludes, a knowing smile spreading across his face.

(Y/N) and Obi-Wan then turn their gaze towards Windu, who appears to be deeply pondering the situation. It’s a dangerous mission, far too dangerous. Infiltrating Serenno could be compared to a Separatist squadron trying to infiltrate Coruscant right now. Reckless, not worthy at all. And even though she has proven her capabilities time and again, earning the respect of the Jedi Council since before she was knighted, this exceeds the usual risks they take. But at the same time, if they don't do it, they could lose more than just a squad—and with bad luck, a Jedi.

"Go ahead," Windu finally says, his tone decisive.

"Great, infiltrating the heart of enemy territory is always my favorite kind of mission," she quips, a hint of sarcasm in her voice, a smirk tugging at her lips.

...

"I had no clue there were defective clones out there," Obi-Wan remarks, arms folded, his gaze scanning the distant skyline of Coruscant from the base.

"Me neither, but the whole idea of working with a bunch or weird, mutant clones sounds fascinating," (Y/N) replies without missing a beat, a spark of excitement lighting up her eyes as she contemplates leading such an unconventional mission. She's still one of the few Jedi without a permanent legion or squad under her command, always bouncing from one assignment to another, going wherever she's needed as reinforcement. A bit like the 99, Cody thinks, observing both Jedi with a smile playing on his lips.

"You're about to find out just how interesting they can be, General."

And as if his statement was a cue and they were living in a movie, a shuttle rockets onto the landing pad, causing chaos among the ground crew. Its engines roar as it touches down, sending crates of military gear flying through the air like confetti at a parade.

"Someone just lost their flight rights." She mutters, a wide grin spreading across her face. Obi-Wan -ever so subtle- smirks beside her, wondering which of those so-called elite defective clones managed to botch a landing so badly. Did they miss their flying lessons?

The ramp of the shuttle, which she discovers it's heavily customized now that she can take a better look at it, slowly lowers, revealing four individuals waiting to come out, each more particular than the last. Their armor, adorned in black and red, seems customized to what (Y/N) guesses are their individual strengths and quirks.

The first one down the ramp, still wearing his helmet, glances around as if assessing the potential damage done to the landing pad. From his body language alone, she would expect him to be the genius who managed that landing. What she doesn’t expect, though, is his face under the helmet. Actually, none of theirs.

"Well, they certainly don’t look like clones," Obi-Wan comments a bit louder than intended, but he's right. They all share a distant resemblance to the regular clones—maybe like... distant cousins—but if they weren’t in the army, you’d never guess they were clones at all. Each one of them is… unique, and they’ve already piqued (Y/N)’s curiosity even before a proper introduction.

"Commander," one of them greets Cody as soon as the squad reaches them, raising a hand to shake his own. His long, dark, wavy hair is already distinctive enough, but his tattooed face really adds to his intimidating persona. He truly looks like someone who could kill you in a matter of seconds if he wanted to.

"Good to see you, Sergeant. It’s been a while. This is Jedi General (Y/N)," Cody introduces her, and she nods at them with a charming small smile plastered on her face. "She'll be leading this suicide mission and will be your only reinforcement this time."

It might just be her imagination, really, but she could swear the clone Cody referred to as sergeant is not exactly happy with the sudden news about the mission’s command. Feeling as if a speeder had just run over her a thousand parsecs per hour, and judging by the way he suddenly looks her up and down to the speed of light, silently analyzing her, she'd say this strong feeling of rejection she perceives through the Force, comes from him.

Awh, she didn’t even open her mouth yet and she’s already made a new friend. How cute.

"General," he nods politely, like any good soldier would have done, but with this… noticeable detachment in his manner. "Sergeant Hunter of Clone Force 99. These are Tech, Wrecker, and Crosshair." He introduces his team one by one, each giving the Jedi a quick glance and a nod.

‘’Let me guess,’’ she starts, biting the inside of her cheek before pointing with one of her right fingers to each one of them. ‘’you’re fast and probably have better sight or hearing. You, on the other hand, are the smart one.’’ The jedi refers to Tech, who is clearly and unashamedly the brains of the squad. Those glasses and the datapad he constantly checks? A walking stereotype. He nods in agreement, tho, while Hunter tries to roll his eyes without being noticed. And miserably fails, but she doesn’t pay attention to it. ‘’You’re the strong one, and you’re the sniper.’’ And she’s sure she doesn’t need to point out why, how, she knows that; the target tattoo around his eye blatantly giving him away.

"Wait, you're a Jedi?" Wrecker, the burliest of the group and seemingly the cute, dumb one, asks with a hint of disbelief as he eyes her hair and attire. She quickly realizes that her dark and tactical outfit—cargo pants, military boots, a snug top with protective padding on her shoulders and a tight vest—doesn't exactly scream "Jedi." But she's always been more comfortable on the front lines than behind the clones she commands, and a robe would just get in the way during a fight. Obi-Wan's still not happy about that.

"Yeah, last time I checked," she replies with a smile, his enthusiasm infectious as she meets Wrecker's gaze. His expression widens, as happy and excited as a kid in a candy store.

"Isn't that awesome, Sergeant? We're gonna see some of those Force tricks up close," Wrecker adds eagerly, nudging his fellow clone.

"Yeah, awesome," Hunter mutters, seemingly uninterested in the conversation as he quickly changes the subject. What's his problem? "So, General, what kind of death trap are we heading into this time?"

"I'll fill you in on all the details on our way; the journey will be long," She answers, shrugging nonchalantly, her hands clasped behind her back.

"Then let's get going!" Wrecker exclaims again, and his whole squad follows him back to the shuttle after a quick farewell to Cody. (Y/N) can't help but notice the way the proclaimed sergeant's eyes lingered on her for just a couple seconds before turning away, wondering about the coldness she feels emanating from him towards her. If their paths had crossed on another mission, she would have remembered, and even so, she's always the life of the party on any mission! She might take offense if she wasn't used to not fitting in even among her own. At least, she tells herself as she exhales a soft sigh, he's attractive, so she'll deal with the mission and his shitty attitude by enjoying his pretty face as a reward for her outstanding patience.

"You're staring," Obi-Wan scolds her under his breath, witnessing their previous interaction, giving the younger Jedi a gentle elbow nudge.

"Being a Jedi means not getting attached, not gouging your eyes out and depriving yourself of good views," she responds without missing a beat, smiling charmingly at him. She's so cheeky, Obi-Wan thinks to himself, exactly like her old master, Kit Fisto.

"Ah, -I completely forgot-, wait!" The Jedi calls out to Clone Force 99, causing everyone to freeze and turn to look at her. "Before we go, you guys need to change your clothes."

The clones look at each other, confused. Wrecker is the first to speak up. "What’s wrong with our gear?"

She steps forward, arms crossed. "Nothing if you want to stick out like a rancor in a china shop. We're going undercover."

Hunter narrows his eyes slightly, not exactly liking what he just heard. "And what exactly do you suggest, General?"

She smirks, his reluctance kinda funny to her. "Something a bit less... militaristic. Follow me, I'll show you where you can get changed."

Wrecker shrugs, clearly unfazed. "As long as I don't have to wear a dress," he jokes, eliciting a low chuckle from Crosshair. ''those never have pockets, and I need to carry some grenades.''

Hunter, on the other hand, remains stoic, his gaze fixed on the jedi, his now general during this mission. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—doubt, maybe even distrust—but he nods. "Lead the way."

And as they do as being told, Obi-Wan falls into step beside her. "You sure about this?"

She nods, her expression determined. "Absolutely, what could go wrong?"

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