#sorry for two marvel posts in a row

[concrete-3ater]

trying to figure out how to draw this guy

He’s grown on me just a bit too much for my liking

[cabinet-man-colors]

2024 art vs artist

(ID: a 3 by 3 grid, 8 drawings made by op, with a picture of op in cosplay in the middle. the first image is a full-body drawing of spider-man from marvels spider-man 2, shooting a web toward the viewer while striking a pose. his outfit is pink, black, and white instead of its usual red and blue. there's a sunset in the background, and the camera at an angle. the second image is a chest-up drawing of op's character, rain, who is smiling at the viewer, with pastel flames behind her, resting her chin on her hand. she is wearing dog tags and a tank-top. the third image is a full-body drawing of op's character R4-v10, who has a tv for a head, and a striped yellow and brown sweater with overalls and boots. they have a power cord for a tail, and line around their head indicate they are happy.

the second row's first image is a full-body drawing of a another original character, a boy with wings, bird legs, and a tail. he has glowing yellow feathers, hair, and eyes. magic glows between his hands. his legs are folded under him and his wings are spread slightly as he looks at his hands. the middle image is a picture of op, Ravio-The-Cabinet-Man, wearing a shadow the hedgehog cosplay with a tv head on. he is flipping off the camera and there are eyes drawn on the screen to show him glaring. he is wearing a red and black leather jacket.

the third image is a drawing of a humanoid with several pairs of wings and eyes. feathered wings cover his face, with eyes on the feathers. he has two pairs of arms, with one pair holding onto himself and one hand reached out. his bat wings have clouds on them. his skin is yellow and gold and his legs are reminiscent of a birds.

the third rows first image is a drawing of the bird kid again, reaching out toward the moon with space surrounding him, he isn't glowing this time, his hair is blond and the back of his wings are dark green.

the second image is a simple drawing of op stuck in a glue trap, there is no shading and its drawn is a cartoon style. op has elf ears, a buzzcut, and ripped black jeans.

the last image is a drawing of Looks to the moon from Rain world, holding an overseer out while they project an image of pebbles. she is sat on the floor of her room, the only source of light coming from the overseer. End ID.)

(Plaintext: "2024 art vs artist" End Plaintext.)

2024 is coming to a close, so here my art vs artist for this year! i think i made some good ones this year, but i wanted to pick options from different months to kinda show off my year a bit. i havent been posting as much art and im sorry for that, havent had the energy for it honestly, but maybe ill start making a backlog, idk. no promises. i tried a lot of new techniques this year, most of them didnt stay though ha. happy holidays everyone, and happy new year <3

[backtothefanfiction]

I feel like I’m literally shouting into the void…

Any time there is a new marvel movie out, before the first day is even over, people are already posting shitty quality videos they filmed on their phones in the cinema all over social media. I finally got to see Thunderbolts* last night and now my TikTok feed is inundated with shitty clips and edits from the movie. Regardless if they are marked with spoiler warnings or not, I feel so sorry for the people who shared a cinema with the people posting who had to put up with them getting their phone out in the cinema and filming multiple clips so that they could post them online and say “I was here”. Not to mention you are just openly filming and pirating the movie which is illegal and the amount of young people who think that’s okay is just shocking. It’s disrespectful for everyone who put their effort into the movie. It’s disrespectful for the people around them in the moment. Disrespectful of others who haven’t had the chance to see the movie yet and suddenly have their fyp littered with these stupid crappy clips that spoil the movie. AND THE FOOTAGE IS NEVER EVEN THAT GOOD! It’s grainy and at a weird angle- AND YET PEOPLE STILL MAKE CHARACTER EDITS WITH IT TOO!!! LIKE WHAT?! HAS THE WORLD GONE MAD! HOW DO YOUNG PEOPLE AND TEENAGERS THINK THIS IS OKAY!

I hope studios clap back. I hope they set up teams to scour the internet and actually fine people for this shit because I think it’s the only way it’ll stop. It’s no wonder films don’t make much at the box office anymore- and yes part of that is because they put it on streaming after only a couple weeks these days- but it’s also because it shit like this!!!! People can’t sit in a theatre full of other people and enjoy a movie for two hours without checking their phone or filming clips to put online for their own fucking ego! It honestly makes me so angry!!!!!!!

And there’s no shame or accountability for it either!

We literally had a guy down in the second row of our screening of Captain America Brave New World who actually lifted up his phone and started recording the fight scene with red hulk in front of everyone! And even when my husband went and told the attendant and told them exactly where they were sitting they did nothing!

AND THIS IS WHY PEOPLE DON’T WANT TO GO TO THE CINEMA ANYMORE!

Who wants to pay all that money for a ticket when a teenager who thinks they know everything whips out their phone mid movie to film bits of it for their social media account! Like where’s the shame! The embarrassment! And people just let them get away with it! I’m fucking sick of it!

Clearly the switch your phone off and enjoy the movie notifications just before the movie starts isn’t enough! There needs to be a clear campaign and clap back from the media industry! Give me Captain America sitting on a chair and lecturing people! Get the cast themselves to record bits that play before the movie telling people clearly and without confusion to put their phone away. Don’t text during the movie or check your stupid facebook feed. Don’t film clips of the movie! Or better yet let’s go back to the piracy warning videos of old we used to get on DVDs!

Anything! Anything at all that’s actually gonna combat this because I feel like I’m fighting a losing battle of constantly telling people in cinemas to get off their phones.

Better yet, I’d pay extra for a screening where you lock your phones in those little pouches that only staff can unlock at the end of the screening. I just want anything more than this!!

When you buy a ticket and enter into any public theatre you ARE agreeing to a certain respect for the people creating the thing you are viewing and the people around you and you ARE expected to hold yourself to that standard. If you can’t kindly stay the fuck home! Lockdown wasn’t that long for people to have this much brain fucking rot and forget how public viewing of media fucking works! The theatre is not your mother’s fucking living room. So sit down, shut the fuck up, keep your phone in your fucking pocket or bag the whole time and JUST WATCH THE MOVIE! That’s it! It’s not that hard!!!!!!

[wisteria-cherry]

forty days and forty nights (day seventeen!)

(merry christmas cherry blossoms)

(i decided to post on saturdays too because i got impatient)

on the third day, bakugo still hadn’t returned. takumi was working with you for the third day in a row, and she still wouldn’t tell you anything.

“sorry, i have to get back to work,” she’d say. “maybe you should ask someone else.” this was disorienting. you didn’t even understand why she wouldn’t tell you.

“please, takumi?” you pleaded. it was kind of pathetic, if you were being honest with yourself. takumi was young, younger than you. she couldn’t be older than 17. she was definitely pretty, too, with long, straight, sandy blonde hair and bangs to frame her pale face nicely, with icy blue eyes that now bore into yours in a constant state of deadpan.

“i’m going to refill the baked goods cabinet.” takumi turned away.

“can’t you at least tell me why you won’t say?” you called. takumi paused.

“because it’s not for me to tell you.” she said, ever wise beyond her years.

“oh.” was your equally wise response as takumi went to the back to do what she’d promised.

for me to find out. you mused takumi’s words as you made rounds, refilling drinks and making sure everyone was taken care of. but how do i find out? you frowned slightly as you poured mrs. hatsugawa her earl grey tea.

you’d just finished refilling another regular’s coffee— ed, an old man who hailed from the United States. he was completely in love with mrs. hatsugawa and really only came to the cafe to see her, too shy to make conversation. however, she was still very in love with her late husband, so it was really a bittersweet, unrequited love that you witnessed every day. ed was always friendly.

“thank you, dear,” ed smiled at you. you wanted to giggle like a schoolgirl— ed, whether intentionally or not, tended to mimic mrs. hatsugawa’s tendencies, like calling younger folks “dear”.

“of course, ed,” you smile before returning to the counter.

how do i find out? you considered for a moment. well, how did other people find out?

they asked, obviously. so, as soon as you got home from your horrifically long shift, you were back on your phone, ready to text bakugo.

your finger hovered over the send button as you stared at your message to him—

hey, you ok?

you deleted the message. maybe you’re making a big deal out of this. maybe he was fine and just didn’t want to get coffee at the café anymore.

maybe it was your fault.

you instantly shook the thought away. he liked you. even mina, during your wednesday outing, had told you what a marvel it was that bakugo was actually tolerant of you. you tried again.

you haven’t come in for awhile, people are talking about you.

no, that won’t do. that makes it seem like you’re trying to make him feel guilty for not coming in. of course, he probably wouldn’t feel guilty, but the point still stands. you stared at the previous messages between you two. there weren’t many. just bakugo telling you mina’s address for the party last week and you thanking him. he didn’t reply after that.

working on your caffeine addiction?

now that just seemed rude, too. one coffee a day isn’t an addiction. plenty of people had one coffee a day and weren’t addicted. you deleted it.

i miss you

delete.

come back soon, won’t you?

delete.

hey bakugo! how’ve you been?

hm.

acceptable.

you figured that it wouldn’t get much better than that. so, you sent it, deciding that it was late and you should go to bed.

you didn’t sleep that night.

“that’s for you to find out.”

(don’t forget to comment + give ur thoughts :)

@k0z3me @cherryblossomclarity @jazzafaye5294

[roguestorm]

deeply sorry for the length of this ask. feel free to ignore. just contributing 2 cents on the manga/comic distinction as a primary manga reader who transitioned into comics! my limited experience has given me the impression that US comics are episodic while manga are serialized.

Within the sample of 80s-90s Marvel and a scattershot of indie/Wildstorm, comics have tended towards self-contained arcs of 1-5 issues, each issue hewing quite closely to the status quo-rising action-setback-climax-falling action plot diagram. Character development continues, but greater plots are spread thinly as hints that culminate in a crossover every 30-odd issues.

The inertia of shared canon comic continuity/the transition between writers resets or undoes development at regular intervals. So, each issue feels more episodic because any attempts to serialize will be undone in the next personnel shuffle. Even big 'never be the same again' changes like HoXPoX, the deaths of Jean Grey, Crisis on Infinite Earths, N52 will get undone in time and revert.

There's definitely a tendency to long arcs in contemporary comics compared to old comics, so my reading history here doesn't give that accurate of a view of the state of things. I've found that old comics write self-contained issues while post-90s-crash/post-digital comics employ longer story arcs and 'write for the trade'--possibly because that's the point at which trades become more accessible than issues?

Indie comics tend to have a more continuous plot without the constraints of shared canon, but are often planned for a limited run. These 5-12 issue runs can be structured in advance. This defined scope can lead to a more episodic series where each issue accomplishes a set goal, compared to the haphazard rushing-to-the-deadline manga flow that can leave chapters as abortive or half-finished.

By contrast, the sole-authorship/independent canon of manga allows permanent story changes without the status quo reset. This lends itself better to serialization. There is a lot of overlap between manga and indie here, and big magazines (WSJ) can exert significant control over mangaka. However, few manga are planned and executed as limited series and almost no manga have co-writers. The schedule pressure and lack of chapter limits means that mangaka can push events into/out of chapters, adjust pacing, change plot direction on the fly, and these changes aren't likely to be overruled.

There's less ability to keep chapters self-contained (you hand in what you physically can hand in, whether or not it's a complete story) and less motivation to do so (you have as many chapters as you want to write your arc, you don't need to shoehorn your arc into the three issues you have left before someone else comes on to the book). Manga work in arcs that last anywhere from 5 to 50 chapters or longer, with each arc representing a permanent change in status quo.

From my reading, manga tells a single overarching story with arcs split up into relatively small chapters of a larger whole (any big shounen e.g. HxH or Haikyuu, a lot of seinen e.g. Berserk, most big shoujo e.g. Ao Haru Ride or AkaYona). Because of the length of manga arcs, it's difficult for all of 30+ chapters to each be a self-contained story while contributing significantly to the main plot. US comics on the other hand tell a series of short, tight stories. These legally have to end where they started if published under the Big Two or another shared universe. In other words, a manga is a log of cookie dough cut into chapters while a US comic is a row of individually formed balls of cookie dough, some of which are grouped together.

This is all limited though--the big exceptions to this rule are indie comics, which don't have the shared-universe limitations, and non-romance slice-of-life manga, which do have to return to exactly the same status quo. And the definition of episodic I've used here is less about the proportion of 1-issue/1-chapter arcs and more about the change of/return to status quo at he end! My conclusion based on my reading was that SFF manga are almost all singular, large-scope stories that change continuously (serialized) and SFF comics are largely repetitive, small-scope stories that resolve to a status quo (episodic)--so it's interesting to see that there's still solid evidence for it being the other way around!

This is exactly the kind of reply I was hoping for! I think it's interesting that you are using this other definition of episodic, based around the overall trajectory of the stories, and then kind of working backwards from there to how it affects the single-issue level. The status quo argument only really affects the long-term episodic-ness (and it definitely does make like any deviation from the status quo into an episode that can be picked up or ignored as you choose), but it's interesting how that can end up making a difference on the issue-by-issue level as well.

Using The Walking Dead as my Western example did I think skew the argument because it was a very particular type of comic in that it was not Big Two, written by a single person, and always intended to be this big sprawling epic that just keeps going. It is perhaps more like a manga than a typical Big Two comic in that way. As you say, it's certainly true that a lot of Big Two comics do change hands regularly enough that it prevents any real long-term arcs from forming.

[malaismere]

2022 AO3 Stats - Vox Machina & Mighty Nein

(for previous stats check out my ao3 stats tag - most relevant are my end of c2 m9 ship stats)

Behold! The top ships! Marvel at the tangle of lines! These are in 3-month intervals to keep it at least somewhat legible, and I'm sorry to say that you'll probably need to really zoom in to make sense of it, so I can't do a full text description. I will point out where they break 200 fics, however - Perc'ahlia at the end of 2016, Widomauk in mid-2018 (following Molly's death), Shadowgast and Beaujester in early 2019 (with the Essek reveal), Beauyasha from October 2020 through June 2021 (canon, end of Campaign) and Shadowgast from April 2021 to end of 2022, and Laudna/Imogen from July to December 2022 (following Laudna's death).

Additionally: the only C1 ship to be in the top 5 ships while C2 aired was Perc'ahlia, and it only reached it occasionally; throughout C3 Shadowgast has yet to drop below 2, and both Perc'ahlia and Beauyasha have consistently been in the top 5.

Looking closer at each campaign below the cut!

These charts are also in 3-month intervals, to at least try and pretend they're legible. Initial work was done in 2020, so fics deleted before that aren't included, but fics deleted after that may be (depending on how big a time gap there was between posting and deleted). Because of that, these aren't 1:1 with what you'll see on ao3 today but are very close.

Vox Machina

Overall, the Top 10 ships are:

Perc'ahlia

Vaxleth

Vax/Gilmore

Perc'ildan

Pikelan

Vexleth

Keyleth/Vax/Gilmore

Zahra/Vex

Polymachina

Grog/Vax (tie)

Percy/Pike (tie)

Grog Strongjaw

So, the fewer the fics, the messier the chart. Grog doesn't really have a clear dominant ship. The two that stand out are Grog/Vax, which is prevelant from late 2016 to the end of C1, and Grog/Keyleth, which picks up steam and is the dominant post-C1 ship. Altoug, interestingly enough, Grog/Keyleth has fallen out of the way since end of 2020, leaving Grog/Vax to be dominant in 2022. The only other fic to get more than 2 fics is a single Grog/Pike peak in late 2016.

Keyleth

Vaxleth is the big boy here - spiking to 52 from July 2016 to March 2017 (yes, there were three 52s in a row) and 73 in January 2022 as Legend of Vox Machina came out. It was up and down but overall pretty consistent and has never not been Keyleth's top ship.

...althtough Vexleth comes close, only one fic shy in April-June 2022, reaching an all time high post LoVM. Other than that, its been the constant number two - Pikeleth beating it by 1 fic in April-Jun 2017 as the exception that proves the rule. Percleth and Pikeleth are strong during C1 but drop off after; Grogleth is the main pos-C1 but all of them fall to the side aftertheir late 2020 peak, with only Percleth seeing a very small LoVM resurgence.

Percival de Rolo

Perc'ahlia breaks the axis with 182, 256, and 138 fics from July 2016 - March 2017 and a 120 fic LoVM resurgence in early 2022. It had a later start than Vaxleth but quickly outshown it, and has been in and out but fairly constant during C2. The combo of C3 cameos & LoVM has kept it at it's C1 highs and that's only expected to continue once S2 drops.

Perc'ildan is the constant number 2, save for a small peak of Percy/Tary following his introduction in 2017 and Percy/Pike beating out with 5 fics to Perc'ildan and Percleth's 4 in late 2020; nothing else breaks 5,

Pike Trickfoot

So, during C1 things were a bit of a mix. Pikelan started strong, but Percy/Pike is the top in July-September 2016, and Pike/Vex and Pke/Keyleth for Femslash February 2017. However, Percy's the only one of these to really have much to show post-C1.

Pikelan is highest at the end of C1, and then is pretty constant. It did see a spike for LoVM, but not a very significant one.

Scanlan Shorthalt

Pikelan dominates and always has with a Vaxlan exception for the end of C1 / The Wish. Everything else is in the minor leagues - Vaxlan has a showing, the rest are only 1-2 fics and hard to interpret.

Vax'ildan

Vaxleth is the big boy here - spiking to 52 from July 2016 to March 2017 (yes, there were three 52s in a row) and 73 in January 2022 with LoVM. However, unlike Keyleth, Vax is way more even - Vaxmore beats out Vaxleth in late 2020, and Perc'ildan in April-June 2022. Vaxmore was prety constant, dropping only slightly post-C1; Perc'ildan had a mre significant drop, but then a more signficant LoVM resurgence.

Vax/Grog and Vax/Scanlan are pretty comparable; Vax/Scanlan peaks in late 2017 with the Vecna stuff, but Vax/Grog is the bigger ship post-C1. Both still only broke above 5 for the end of C1.

Vex'ahlia

Perc'ahlia breaks the axis with 182, 256, and 138 fics from July 2016 - March 2017 and a 120 fic LoVM resurgence in early 2022. Same as Percy, there's only one other ship of note - Vexleth, which hits a high following LoVM but never breaks 25.

Pike/Vex hits a Femslash February high in 2017, as does Zahra/Vex (which is at Vexleth levels for 2016) but everything else is dead quiet.

Taryon Darrington

Unsurprisingly, Tary's pretty quiet. Post-introduction there's a Percy/Tary high; after that, there are occasional Percy/Tary and Tary/Lawrence fics, but oly in the 1-2 range.

Mighty Nein

Overall the top 10 ships are

Shadowgast

Beauyasha

Widomauk

Widojest

Beaujester

Fjorester

Widofjord

Fjorclay

Clayleb

**Blumentrio**

Widobrave

Fjord

So, Widofjord started out the top ship, and stayed that way through early 2019 before slowly dropping to the wayside. Fjorclay took over after that and has one of the sharpest declines ever, currently sitting at like 2/year. Fjorester, always a top but secondary ship, bursts up to a 160 peak with the end of C2 and them being canon, falling back down to average levels albeit the top ship. Fjorester gets a small bump for the M9 Reunion.

Also notable: Fjolly starts strong but fades out following Molly's death; there's a peak in Avantika/Fjord during the pirate arc that trails off, and we have two Fjord/Nott peaks in late 2019 and early 2021 coinciding with peak Nott bullying Fjord moments.

Beauregard Lionett

Beauyasha is the top ship, with a peak of 343 in the end of C2. Beaujester takes over during 2019 following the Zuala reveal and Beau revealing her crush on Jester, but falls off during the Hiatus as Beauyasha become canon. The Ot3 is really the only secondary ship, aside from a tny peak of Beau/Keg after they fucked - there's no similar Beau/Reani peak.

Caleb Widogast

Widomauk dominates in 2018, htting a high with Molly's death, and then slowly but steadily declines after that. Widojest makes a valiiant attempt in 2019, and is pretty strong during tthe hiatus, but Shadowgast over takes, with its first peak in early 2020 with the Treason Reveal, and then a 677 fic peak for the end of C2 (the highest of Any Ship Ever).

Widofjord was the second ship but fell off after Essek's introduction; Clayleb was briefly popular in early 2019 but fell off as Fjorclay grew. Widobrave gets an alltime high with Veth getting her body back in early 2020, and is at simlar levels with Widofjord for the rest of C2, but falls off more sharply after. Blumentrio is similarly low but gets peaks in 2019 with the Scourger introduction and at the end of C2 with the Eiselcross arc, and has been pretty constant after.

Nott / Veth Brenatto

Nott/Yeza is the big ship with its high point following Yeza's introduction/rescue, and stays a pretty constant ship. Widobrave takes over with the ritual to get Veth's body back, and they're close for 2020 but Widobrave falls off faster, and doesn't get a resurgence with M9 Reunited as Nott/Yeza did.

Other than that....there's some Nott/Jester in late 2018, some Nott/Cad in early 2019 I think was just one person, and Fjord/Nott, which peaks in late 2019 and early 2021 with peak Nott Bullying Fjord moments. post C2, it is the only other Nott ship. Like. At all.

Jester Lavorre

Fjorester starts out at the top, but slowly declines through 2019 until the Eiselcross arc and end of C2-canon. Even then, it never its the highs Beaujester or Widojest do as they battle for dominance in 2019/2020. Both have fallen down to be closer to the levels seen by Jolly, Yashter, and the Beauyashter ot3.

Mollymauk Tealeaf

Widomauk. It exists. Widofjord used to exist. It doesn't, anymore. A few people wrote Jolly, and that's not really a thing. You can start to see people writing Molly/Essek. They're doing so because Shadowgast is popular, although the ot3 tag isn't super prevelant/comparable.

More seriously, you can see a peak following Lucien's return but it then drops off with no real end of C2 spike because...well, Kingsley. Hard to say whether it's hit a constant or if it'll continue to decline.

Yasha Nydoorin

Beauyasha had it's heyday in post-Hiatus C2. It's since dropped back to early levels, still far and away the top Yasha ship. Yashter & the Beauyashter ot3 are the only others that really compare, save a small Zuala peak after the backstory reveal that gets occasional fics. Even these have fallen to the wayside post-C2. Only Beauyasha remains.

Caduceus Clay

So, with Caduceus, he's the replacement for Widomauk in late 2018 to early 2019, before Fjorclay takes the stand, with a 120 fic peak during the 2020 hiatus. It then immediately falls down to nothing, as does the brief fling with Cadwulf, since Taliesin went on Talks and confirmed that Caduceus was Asexual. Since then...things have been pretty quiet, never getting a full 0 ship fics, but also never getting more than 5.

Kingsley Tealeaf

So, in the immediate post C2, we see some Caleb/Kingsley, comparable to Widomauk, with some Essek/Kingsley because ot3.

Fjord/Kingsley is perfectly hidden behind Jester/Kingsely, as their distribution is identical: because it's actually Fjord/Jester/Kingsley, which is actually the #2 ship.

[intothemysticfic]

Flowers (NCT 127)

Taeil carries a vibrant mix of pink roses and carnations, orange lilies, and yellow sunflowers in a bouquet. You’re grateful these come with a vase because you’re not sure you have another.

“They’re so beautiful,” you note, “Thank you.” You take them as he kisses your cheek; you have to think about where you’ll put them. “Pretty soon, I’m going to run out of places to put these.”

There is already a vase of flowers in the entryway, one in the kitchen, and another on your nightstand. You take these to the living room and sit them on the table.

He laughs, “I guess next time I’ll have to buy chocolates instead.” 

You shrug, “You don’t have to buy me anything, but I love everything you bring me.” You mean it. Even if every table and countertop in your apartment had a cluster of flowers, you would love all of them. 

Johnny’s arm is slung over your shoulder as the two of you walk down the sidewalk. You’re headed home from a date. You notice a woman ahead selling single roses. With a grin, you break away from Johnny, rushing to purchase a rose before he can react. The two of you have been trying to one-up each other all night. 

“For you!” 

He laughs, taking it with an exaggerated gasp, “So pretty! But I think you need one too.” 

You protest, but he buys one anyway. He breaks the stem from the bright red rose he purchased, tucking the flower behind your ear.

“See, it’s not the same,” he defends his purchase, giving you that ‘not my problem’ shrug. The elderly woman seems amused by your antics, mumbling fondly about young love.

Taeyong goes from smelling the flowers along the path to posing with them when you comment, “let me take a picture.” 

You do your best taking the picture, knowing that Taeyong will likely want to post them online for his fans. After handing him his phone, he grabs your arm, pulling you to the edge of the path beside him.

“I want to take a picture with you,” he explains, encouraging you to pose with him. Severely pictures are taken in a row, each with a different pose. “You’re prettier than any flower,” he notes as he looks through the photos.

Yuta. Cookies and coffee? That is what is written on the card you pull from the flowers in your hands. You marvel at the turn of events. 

A guy had bumped into you, knocking the box of cookies you were carrying to the ground. You had been pouting down at the wreckage but had quickly gotten over the loss when the guy apologized, cleaning up the mess before you could. You’d told him, “it’s okay. Accidents happen.”

He’d offered you a dazzling smile. The kind that seems to shift the axis of the world. “Hold on.” And you’d been confused as he darted into the flower shop beside you. Moments later, he returned with a bouquet of flowers, thrusting them into your hands. He flashed another dazzling smile before giving a short bye before you could respond. You’ll undoubtedly be dialing the number left on the card very soon. 

Doyoung breathes out a surprised, “oh,” as you hold out a beautifully arranged bouquet of multiple flowers. “The play was wonderful. Congrats!” He’d been so stressed about his role, terrified that he’d forget his lines or miss a note. Of course he did neither.

His eyes soften, a pleased smile gracing his face. “Thank you.”

He sways forward just a fraction before catching himself. The slip-up makes you grin. The hall is too open for any show of affection. You offer him a polite goodbye. Before you make it outside, your phone pings with a message from Doyoung: a promise that he will thank you properly once he gets home.

Jaehyun says, “I’m sorry,” when you open the door. Head hanging down, gaze cast to the ground, he holds out a round box of roses. He looks up, meeting your eyes when you don’t take the flowers. You must look away, hating the emotion swirling in those brown eyes that you love. Cursing internally because the flowers are beautiful, and Jaehyun is heart-stoppingly handsome. Still, you don’t want to be swayed so easily. 

You had felt disappointed when Jaehyun was late for your anniversary dinner, but finding out that he had forgotten was devastating. Tension builds in the doorway of your home as silence stretches out. Jaehyun breaks it, stating, “I know it’s not enough, but I mean it - I’m sorry. Please give me a chance to make it up to you.”

You hold out a beat longer before taking the flowers and motioning him inside.

Jungwoo had made it a point to call you the night before. “I knew you’d be stressing out.” He was right. Hearing his voice, and listening to his assurances, helped calm you. You even managed to get a whole night’s sleep. With your morning alarm, the spell was broken. Once more, you find yourself anxious as you rush to prepare for your job interview. 

A knock on your door stops you in your tracks. Confused, you answer it. A delivery worker is holding a vase of flowers. You offer a thank you as you take the flowers inside, curiously looking for a card. Three simple words that fill you with courage. Fighting! Love, Jungwoo.

Mark stands awkwardly, juggling flowers, chocolates, and a stuffed bear. “I - um. I wasn’t sure what you’d like. So I… well.” He shifts the items in his arm, indicating all of them.

You stifle a laugh, not wanting to offend him, but you find it terribly endearing. “You didn’t have to buy anything,” you assured him, “But all of it’s really lovely. Thank you.” Both of you laugh as you struggle to take the items.

It may be the first date, but you can already see yourself falling hard.

Haechan lets out a quiet, “uh-oh.” You stare at the destruction, the mayhem, and death in your living room. “You killed it,” you accuse, straight-faced.

He’s panicked, eyes wide, looking between you and the broken pot of flowers on the floor. You ham it up, pouting and stating, “those were my favorite.” 

“Maybe they’ll be fine,” he offers, dropping down to gather the spilled dirt into a pile and trying in vain to straighten the battered flowers. Your laughter immediately draws his attention.

“It’s a fake, babe.” The deadpan look he levels at you only makes you laugh harder. “Those flowers don’t even have roots.”

“I thought you were going to cry!” He defends himself, blaming you for him not noticing, “And who puts fake flowers in real dirt?”

[chasingpj]

𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

"Bye, for now, puddles."

pairing: percy jackson x child of hecate!reader

words: 6,220

warnings: a little angst, missing a meal, death of a parent, i believe that is all.

timeline: post sea of monsters

if you want to be tagged every time I update this story, click here

a/n: hi hi! I'm so excited to finally get this chapter to you guys. I'm sorry this literally took a month. i was taking two writing-intensive courses this summer and i was just burnt out. i hope you enjoy it!

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten

A grunt escapes you; your contorted body weighs down the top of your suitcase as your damp fingers slip off the metal zipper. The unforgivingly humid weather provokes the heat of your efforts, adding to your discomfort. There’s urgency in your fingers, your frustration growing at each failed attempt to close your suitcase.

“Y/n! Hurry up!” Atticus shouts from outside of the Hermes cabin. As the zipper slips out of your grasp once again, you throw your head back in annoyance, hand coming up to push away wisps of hair that fall on your face. A familiar chuckle comes from the corner of the room, grabbing your attention from the wooden ceiling. Connor sits on the side of his bed; his comic book forgotten beside him as you fussing over your suitcase seems to be more interesting to him.

“It’s not funny,” you grumble, sitting onto your heels.

Connor rises from his bed, shrugging his shoulders with a smirk. He kneels by your suitcase, “It’s kinda funny.”

The corners of your mouth almost curve up, but you stop yourself, opting for a roll of your eyes instead.

“What the hades do you have in here?” The tips of his fingers turn white as he pulls on the little piece of metal. You shift your weight to the corner he works on, but it helps him as much as it helped you earlier.

“My brother’s left a bunch of books behind, so Lou Ellen and I split them up. She’s taking half, and I take the rest. We’ll study them and then exchange notes.” A hum of acknowledgment comes from Connor’s lips as he inches the suitcase closed.

“You guys are a bunch of nerds.” You squint at the other with a playful offense, and he laughs at your hardened features. “I bet you guys study more than the Athena Kids,” he teases.

“There’s a lot to learn,” you say simply, watching as he brings the zipper to the end. He leans back on his heels, and you move to take in the half-empty cabin.

The sight of the Hermes cabin being this tidy was foreign. There aren’t any sleeping bags on the floor; the belongings of your many cabin mates didn’t clutter the walls or the corners of the room as they usually do. It’s funny. There are always complaints of the cabin being too small, but it appears bigger without the mess.

“Will you and Atticus visit throughout the year?” Connor’s expression is hopeful. As the last day of camp approached, Connor’s wishes of a full cabin all year round became more apparent. The shift from a max-capacity cabin to a half-empty one must be a tough transition for social people like Stoll Brothers. If it were you, you’d be counting down the days of everyone’s departure.

You ruffle his brown locks, “we’ll probably stop by for, maybe, spring break?” Connor’s hopefulness begins to sag, and you frown. Spring break is pretty far from now, huh? “Depending on how mortal life treats us. You know, we might be back soon,” you add on quickly, hoping to lift his smile.

Though you wish to go home, you’re dreading all the supernatural activity you’ll have to deal with once you leave. Your father works tirelessly to protect the house, but entities always manage to get in. And if they can’t, they don’t mind hanging outside.

The hopefulness that faded from Connor’s face restores, and he gives you that famous mischievous smirk. “Well, I hope the ghosts bother you guys enough to come to visit early.” His tone is playful, but you can tell he meant some of his words. You laugh hesitantly and nod, rising from your suitcase.

“I’m glad you’re that eager to see us again.”

You thank him as he leans down, lifting the heavy suitcase from the ground for you.

“Y/n!”

“I’m coming!” You tug on the handle, glancing at Connor. “The year will go by fast, and soon this cabin will be bursting at the nails with new unclaimed people. Atticus, Lou, and I included. Anyways, you have your brother. You guys will find something to entertain yourselves.” You nudge him as you make your way outside.

“Yeah, you’re right. You will write to me, yeah?” Connor asks.

“Of course. I’ll send you snacks that you can’t buy at the gas station.” Connor’s arm pumps back to his side, hand in a fist as he hisses a “yes.”

The corners up your mouth hesitantly pull up as you push open the cabin door, finding Atticus and Travis talking on the porch. For the past week, the anticipation of your departure was killing you, but now that it was time to leave, you feel gloomy.

You knew the cause of your heavy heart was the uneasy tone of your going. Living day by day with the intention of moving on was hard. Because every time you look at their newly occupied beds, the sinking feeling in your chest returns. Every time you find yourself wandering in the forest, the memories of your often chaotic magic lessons flood your mind. You remember when Alice misaimed her wind spell, shooting Alabaster far into the trees. While you all rushed to check on him, Alice burst into tears because she was convinced she killed him only to approach a laughing Alabaster who shouted, “Right on!”

Every time you were in the Arts and Crafts center, you remember how you, Sage, and Lou would do Tarot Readings for the campers and how you would argue with the Apollo kids when they insisted your tarot cards are as honest as fortune cookies.

At the armory, you remember how Ambrose ran into James so hard, he stumbled and knocked down half of the shelves of weapons.

In the courtyard, you remember how Ernest, horrified by heights, produced the highest pitch scream he possibly could as he rode a pegasus for the first time under the persuasion of Alabaster.

All these memories, whether hilarious like your spell mishaps or bittersweet like when you and your sibling’s group hugged around Sage when she cried about her abusive stepmother, held a special place in your heart. Because the times where you laughed and cried together reminded you of the genuine bond, the family that was ripped away from you overnight.

“We'll see you guys soon. We should go. Argus will leave without us," Atticus says, relieved that Argus is still waiting for you on top of Half-Blood Hill.

“Have a safe trip, guys,” Travis says, patting Atticus’s shoulder before reaching out his arm and giving you a short side hug. You grab your things, hastily saying a final goodbye, and soon, you and Atticus are trudging up the hill.

Your free hand pats the pocket of your shorts, calming your worry of forgetting the necklace at the cabin. What rests in your pocket is a raw tourmaline crystal, now smooth with the help of Beckendorf, encased in a silver spiral cage.

You and Atticus carry protection crystals all the time, and they help with staying out of the radar of monsters and entities. After hearing Percy’s many stories of monsters bothering him, you figured he couldn’t be too cautious. Then after finding a spell in Alabaster’s many books that can dim down a demigod scent for a while, you decided to make him an enchanted necklace to wear.

You pack into the truck with Atticus right on time. Atticus sits in front of you, chatting away with Cecil as you make yourself comfortable in the back row with Ambrose. You frown; among the three other campers in the van with you, Percy isn’t one of them. Argus peeks into the back, doing a rough headcount. Great, now you’ll have to wait until next summer to give it to him.

Right, when you were going to chastise yourself for not giving him the necklace yesterday when you were done with it, a distant voice shouts, "wait!"

Argus halts in the middle of closing the sliding down and turns around. He shakes his head with disapproval while opening the door all the way, revealing out of breath Percy.

A smile widens across your face as he gets into the back seat with you, and you nudge Atticus’s seat.

"See, I told you we wouldn't be the last ones here.” You side-eye Percy, seeing the corners of his mouth pull up in amusement.

“Some people just don’t know how to get to places on time, huh?” Atticus says, and his eyes flicker to Percy before giving you a wide grin.

“Didn’t sleep in today, firefly?” There is a playfulness in Percy’s voice, and you smile proudly,

“Nope, not today.”

“It’s a miracle,” Percy mutters, loud enough for you to hear, and you scoff. Atticus snickers and nods in agreement.

“We were supposed to gang up on him, not you two on me.” You stick your tongue out at Atticus, and he returns the action.

“It’s more fun making fun of you,” Atticus teases.

“Rude,” you mumble with a slight smile on your face. The two boys chuckle, Atticus turning more into his seat to tell Percy something about a new Marvel movie. Excited voices fill the van as the other boys join in the conversation, and soon they are debating if Batman is really a superhero or just a rich guy in a suit.

You had to admit, as the conversation became more passionate, you were pretty entertained, but as you catch sight of Camp Half-Blood growing farther in the distance, you’re reminded of the ache in your chest. It’s only a temporary leave, but when you return, things will never be the same, and the false hope of your siblings returning has been proven to be foolish.

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

Following a ghost dog while weaving through the hustle and bustle of Grand Central is almost impossible. Atticus’s hand is latched to the straps of your bookbag as you move through people, trying not to roll your eyes at the way Ambrose turns to bark as if he was reprimanding you for being too slow. Easy for him to say when he can walk through walls and people.

“Track 28,” Atticus reminds you as your eyes find the number written on the tan bricks of the high walls. You make a sharp left towards the entrance of another hallway, ignoring the groans of a grouchy bystander that you may have cut off. The next hallway you enter is a lot less crowded than the main floor, and you slow down your pace.

“Where do you guys live again?” Percy asks as he jogs up beside you. He had insisted on walking you guys since his train departs in the same station.

“Sleepy Hollow.” Percy scrunches his face as if he recalls something, and you smile, waiting for the question everyone asks when you say you live there.

“Have you seen the headless horsemen?” Percy asks, half-joking. A snort leaves your throat, and you look at Atticus, who’s equally amused.

“Oh yeah, plenty of times.”

“Really?” Percy asks, his eyes wide with surprise, and you laugh.

“No.” Your response makes his face drop comedically fast, and Atticus bursts into laughter. “It’s just a story, but there’s a lot of history there, so the place is crawling with ghosts. We’ve met the guy who wrote the story, though,” you mention.

“No way,” Percy squints his eyes in disbelief.

“I’m serious! Atticus and I take walks in the cemetery sometimes. We leave drachmas on the graves of newly passed people, so their venture into the underworld is smooth, but some people like to wander.” You shrug. “Washington Irving is one of those people.”

“Cool,” Percy says with such enthusiasm that it makes you smile. Ambrose turns around and barks again, standing at the golden entrance that leads to the grey tunnel lit with fluorescent white lights where your train waits beside the concrete platform.

“He always rushes us,” Atticus complains, and Harvey lets out a coo that sounded close to a groan as if he agreed with him.

The marble floors turn to concrete as you enter the tunnel. The blue and silver train on your left hums as it sits dormant in its station. Ambrose trots ahead, peaking into the doors and windows to find an empty cart to occupy.

As you follow a few feet behind him, your fingers fiddle with the necklace resting in your pocket. You’re regretting not giving it to Percy earlier because, for some reason, the idea of giving it to him now was more intimidating than if you had done it earlier on the bus.

Ambrose decides on a cart, and Harvey jumps off Atticus’s shoulder, squealing happily as he follows the hound while completely ignoring a worried Atticus trailing close behind.

"I, uh, made this for you," you sputter, the words coming out fast like vomit. Your fingers pull out the crystal necklace abruptly, and you put it in the palm of his hand. "It's black tourmaline. It has protective qualities; good at keeping negative energy, negative auras, things like that. I put a spell on it to dim down your demigod scent for a while, so you catch a little bit of a break. It'll last for a few weeks, maybe a month or two if the spell caught on well."

You bite your lip as Percy studies the necklace resting in his hand. "Wow, really? Thank you, Y/n. This is great.”

Nervous, you shift on your feet under his bright, smiling orbs. "It's no problem. After everything that happened at camp, I think it’ll be good for you to have one.”

Percy nods, his features softening all of a sudden, and he shifts. “Thanks for protecting me,” he says, and you feel heat rush to your cheeks. “Getting rid of that thing became more than you expected. I felt bad that I couldn’t help. Swords aren’t really useful when it comes to demons, huh?”

A small laugh of agreement leaves your lips. “It was nothing. I wasn’t going to let you be tormented by that thing if I could help it.”

An announcement echoes in the hall, reporting the departure of your train in a few minutes. You glance over, catching Atticus, Ambrose, and Harvey with their noses practically pressed against the window as they witness your interaction with Percy. The amused smirk on Atticus’s face makes you roll your eyes; he’s definitely going to tease you when you get on the train.

"I should go.” You face Percy again, catching him securing the necklace around his neck. The stone rests a few inches under his camp half-blood necklace. "Thanks for walking us here. Be careful getting home."

"You too…” he trails off, noticing your brother looking out the window. For a second, he seems as embarrassed as you do and a nervous chuckle leaves his lips. “Your brother is waiting."

“He’s so annoying,” you complain, and Percy’s next chuckle doesn’t sound as hesitant this time. "Well, uh, bye, for now, puddles,” you tease, butterflies dancing in your stomach.

"Bye, for now, firefly."

You both awkwardly wave at each other before you turn around, getting on the train with Atticus. With your gaze fixed on the floor, you plop into the seat next to him. You don’t even need to look to know he is smiling teasingly at you.

"How cute,” he teases, nudging your shoulder repeatedly with his own.

"Ew, shut up.” You shove at his shoulder, your nose scrunching as he flails his arms against yours as if you were fighting. Atticus chuckles and a string of sounds come from your familiars as they join in to tease you, and you couldn’t help but laugh too.

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

The suburban streets of your neighborhood are filled with the chirps of birds and bugs and the sounds of cars that pass every once in a while. There isn’t much conversation between you and Atticus as you trudge up the hill leading to your dead-end street.

“Gods, I hope we can get inside without being seen,” you manage to say through your heavy breaths, lazily holding on to the handle of your suitcase as it rolls behind you. Ambrose’s nose nudges the back of your knees as if to encourage you, but it’s more cute than helpful.

“There’s no way that we are. Janie and Celia are always sitting on the neighbor’s porch.” You grunt in acknowledgment, knowing that Atticus is right. The neighborhood ghosts are friendly enough, but their company can be annoying.

As if on cue, you hear a delighted squeal from ahead the moment you reach the top of the hill. Two ladies wave their handkerchiefs in the air a handful of houses away.

Celia, the tallest of the two, wears a steel blue dress with a high neckline and a big bow tied on the base of her neck. She has a jacket button closed over her corset with a frill at the end of her sleeves. Her skirt is floor-length and complete, with ruffles cascading down its entirety. And, of course, no one can miss the high-crowned hat decorated with fake flowers, bows, and crimped fabric as it all sits on top of her blonde hair in an intricate updo. Janie, her sister, wears the same style of dress and headpiece only in a burgundy red. The resemblance between the two makes it clear that they’re siblings close in age. They have the same high pinched noses that jut in the air; both of their faces are regal like those in renaissance paintings.

You’ve seen them around for as long as you can remember. They were two sisters who died of scarlet fever a year before their first courting season, which was a big deal according to their constant moaning and groaning about it.

You look ahead, your expression blank as if their high-pitched voices didn’t fill the streets and they weren't racing toward you with their skirts in their hands.

“My word! It’s the end of summer already?”

“Atticus, you’ve grown taller!”

“What a handsome boy! Y/n, your shorts are too short, don’t you think?”

“It’s quite bizarre how such clothing is acceptable these days.”

“How beautiful you’d look in a gown like ours!”

“Where’s Alabaster?” Janie asks, attempting to circle her arm around Atticus’s, but he raises his arm to push back his damp hair to avoid the contact. She scoffs at his rejection and sighs.

“Alabaster was sweeter to us than you guys!” Celia pouts. Your heart sinks a little at the mention of him. Of course, they’d ask about him, and of course, your father will ask too.

Gods! Your father will ask about him.

You had forgotten you’d have to break the news today. These past few weeks, you debated whether or not you should do it by letter, but it felt wrong. It was only right that he’d find out in person.

“We know you can hear us,” Janie huffs.

“I hope dad doesn’t work late tonight. Do you think Grandma will be waiting for us?” You ask. As annoying as it was having spirits follow you, it was a little fun ignoring them when convenient for you. Atticus nods,

“Probably-”

“No one’s home,” Celia cuts in, and Atticus pretends to shoo a bug away to conceal that he paused from her interruption.

“But I don’t think dad is going to take long. He said his last lecture ended at three,” Atticus continues, and you nod.

‘I hope grandma came by to visit. I missed her.”

“I just said no one’s home.” Celia snaps, and you press your lips together to hide your smile.

Atticus sighs. “I know, I’m dying for those moon cookies she makes us.” At the mention of those cookies, your stomach grumbles. You hope Celia was wrong because you’re suddenly craving your grandmother’s cooking and her company. Her funny stories and voice that’s always a little too loud for the indoors never fails to cheer you up. As short and frail as she is, her voice and personality could fill a room.

“Me too,” you say shortly.

“Hello?!” Celia waves her handkerchief in your face, and you persisted in ignoring her. Suddenly, a sound of disgust comes from Janie as she brushes off her skirt.

“Y/n, retrieve this monster of yours!” She squeals as Ambrose bites the fabric of her dress, tugging on it with a growl.

“Damn this dog,” Celia shouts, attempting to shoo him away, but yelps in surprise as Ambrose snaps his jaw shut near her hand. “Get this thing under control! Y/n!”

Your hand comes up to cover your smile even though the two are shuffling behind you and a stifled chuckle comes from Atticus. The sound of Janie’s heels on the concrete becomes louder as she rushes beside Atticus again, and your smiles drop. The sight of your house comes into view, and you tilt your head confused; your father’s car is parked in the driveway.

“You said no one was home?” You say out loud, and Celia gasps beside you,

“Now you speak to me?” She snaps, halting as you approach the fence. She stands tall, hands folded in front of her elegantly as Janie’s expression is gleaming like a child on Christmas. “Your father requested to keep it a secret, so I obliged his wishes. He canceled his last lecture today to make you both a meal. What a lovely man.”

Your hand finds the latch for the white picket fence as you smile at the familiar narrow victorian-style house ahead of you. A path of cobblestone leads you to the brick steps of the small porch.

Your home sticks out from the more modern American houses that surround the area. It’s an antique, a snippet of history, as your father likes to say. The house is a russet brown only because the bricks are so old they’ve darkened in color. The house accents such as the window trims, porch overhang, and columns are copper, and the hipped roof has brown tiles that look like fish scales. Beside the porch, the bay windows from both stories stack on top of each other, and above the porch roof is the dormer that’s a part of your bedroom.

Gods, you’re yearning to be in your room. You just want to pull out your Murphy bed from the wall and bury yourself in your sheets. The idea of being in bed puts a pep in your step, and you are careful to avoid the salt ring that surrounds your house.

A butterfly passes by your face, flying to the bunchberry bushes your father has planted in the front garden. Among the grass, there are various flowers and herbs that your father grows in the summer. You’ve inherited many things from your father, but his green thumb isn’t one of them. He takes his gardening seriously while you can barely keep the cacti in your room alive.

“Enjoy your meal! Come talk to us one of these days. We missed you two!” Janie shouts after you as you make your way up the stairs. You turn around, Atticus smiling at them.

“We missed you, girls, too,” he says as if he didn’t want to admit it. Janie squeals something about how handsome his smile is, and you scoff, amused as you grab the doorknob.

Once you push the door open, you're hit with a rush of deja vu. The history channel plays faintly in the next room as you take in the home you’ve missed dearly.

There are two bookshelves against the wall on your right, a wide ledge with pillows under the bay windows. A messy coffee table filled with letters and stacked with books sits in front of the comfy reading nook, letting you know that your father was recently hanging out there.

There is a brown mahogany staircase that ascends upstairs to your left, and right beside it is the altar for your mother. A statue of her rests in the middle of the rectangle table covered in a black table cloth. On top of it lies the many offerings for your mom. Herb-dressed candles burn beside bowls of fruit, bouquets, a crystal enamel wine glass filled with alcohol, feathers, and other things. You ignore the altar as you put down your stuff beside the door, following Atticus as he takes off his shoes.

“Kids?” You hear your father call enthusiastically from beyond the foyer, and you persist forward into the entryway ahead of you.

“We’re home!” Atticus announces as he enters beside you. Ambrose barks making a beeline to the right and behind the kitchen counter. He jumps on your father with so much force he stumbles back.

“Gods! Why does he look even bigger?” Your father exclaims through a laugh, fixing the round glasses that threaten to slip off his nose as his other hand grips Ambrose’s paw. He yelps in surprise as Harvey's claws rest on top of his head, clinging to his hair to steady himself.

The warmth and smell of home fill your senses as you catch your dad’s gaze. “Well, come here! Are you going to hug your pops or what?”

You rush over with Atticus. Both of you hug your dad tightly on either side of him, and you smile as he presses a kiss on your temples. “I missed you guys so much!”

“We missed you too!” The smile on your face falters as he looks up, scanning the archway as if he was waiting for someone else. You shift, not ready to be faced with the question, and you peer around his body to look at the food on the stove behind him.

Your father notices your interest, and he chuckles. “Come on, let’s eat. You guys came right on time.”

You shuffle through the kitchen with Atticus, making your way to the rounded table at the end of the kitchen.

“Dad, what have you been up to?” Atticus asks teasingly, and your father perks up.

“I've done a lot of things to keep me busy. I volunteered to teach summer classes while you were gone. I’m reading this book with a fascinating perspective of the shift from Paganism to Christianity in Rome. It’s an amazing read; I highly recommend it. Though, I don’t quite agree with it.” Your father hums thoughtfully. “Oh! And I bought gnomes for our garden! And the thrift store had this little house and this old lady figurine! I put it on the porch. I don’t know if you’ve seen it, but she’s the official guard of the door," he declares proudly. "And…” He twists and turns before heading to the bookshelves in the living room area. He grabs something from the shelf then he showcases a cartoon Dobby bobblehead with wide arms. A high-pitched cackle leaves his lips. “It completes our collection!”

“Woah! Where did you get it? We went to three different places for it, and we couldn’t find it.” Atticus matches your father’s excitement, and you snort at the two.

“I went to a mythology convention in Boston a few weeks ago. There was a game stop across the street from the center, and I thought, ‘why not?’ I went in, and I saw this little guy by the register.” Your father is giddy as he nudges the head and watches it jiggle in his hands.

You think of what your grandmother’s reaction would be if she saw all the things he bought on his trip to the thrift store. She’d definitely complain. She always said that even growing up, your father had a liking for knickknacks. On your shelves and counters, there are always little trinkets lying around. It even extends to the walls, a variety of paintings and diagrams are neatly hung beside each other. From the state of your house, it’s clear your father is a maximalist in its purest definition.

“Wow! That’s awesome!” Atticus reaches out his hand for it as your father brings over his entire collection of Harry Potter bobbleheads, the toys huddled in his chest before he places them on the dining table. “The whole gang can hang out with us for dinner.”

“I hope they like pasta,” Atticus comments, lining them up as your dad retrieves the pan of food.

Your stomach grumbles at the sight, and you’re quick to serve yourself as Atticus and your Dad talk about anything and everything. You guys discuss what your grandmother has been up to, how your father’s classes were going, which led your father to ramble so much he formed a tangent on top of another. The conversation was going so well that you were sure he wouldn’t ask about your summer, but you had assumed too soon.

“So enough about me! How was Camp?” Your father chirps, and you shift in your seat.

You smile with confidence to hide the wariness you felt. “It was great!” You figured if you keep your answer short, you could move past it quickly.

“Yeah, the usual. Fun as always,” Atticus adds.

Your father’s eyes flicker between the two of you, and the first thing he notices is the way your smiles don’t reach the rest of your face.

The clanging of metal utensils on glass plates fills the room as the both of you fixate on your food but neither take a bite. The camp was never a touchy subject. The sudden unwillingness to speak about it makes his eyebrow cock up in suspicion. His eye averts to the empty dining chair beside you and the dinner place settings that remained untouched. Alabaster was supposed to join your return home. At least, that’s what he had assumed.

“Did Alabaster decide to stay at his foster home?” There’s caution in his tone, and he’s taken aback at how both you and Atticus tense up. The clings of metal halt abruptly, and slowly, you move to glance at your father.

“Dad, something happened at camp this summer.” Now, it was your turn to have a tone laced with caution. Alabaster lived with you for months and quickly became a part of the family. Your father saw him as his second son, and you were afraid to break the news that he may never see him again.

“What happened? Did he get into trouble?” You frown at the sudden edge in his voice. Atticus shifts beside you,

“He took the others to go fight for the Titan Lord.”

“What?”

“Mother came to speak to him and told him that it was best to fight for the other side since their chances are better,” you say slowly. “They left at the end of July. Only Atticus, Lou Ellen, and I stayed at camp.”

Your father’s expression darkens, grief written all over his face. “And you haven’t seen them since?”

You shake your head, not wanting to delve into the details. “I don’t think we’ll be seeing them again in a while and not in the best circumstances.” Your father nods, understanding the implication in your words. “Mother promised that she’d take care of them if they fight for the other side. I didn’t want to go; it wasn’t right.”

“That must be why everything is rotting,” your father mutters more to himself. You furrow your eyebrows.

“Rotting? What’s rotting?”

“Our offerings to your mother,” he clarifies. “All the fruit I leave on her altar goes bad in a few days. The flowers wither quickly too. The garden, in general, hasn’t been doing well either. I didn’t understand why.”

Your focus returns to your plate. Suddenly, you weren’t that hungry anymore.

She must be angry, you think to yourself. A part of you wanted a sign from her to let you know if she was bothered you didn’t join. When the sign didn’t come, you assumed she didn’t care; that, in a way, you were dead to her. It didn’t dawn on you to ask how the altar or the garden your father dedicated to her was doing.

“Can I be excused?” You strain, your face a little hot, and you’re not sure if it was from your anger or from the tears you’re blinking away.

“Of course.” The warm smile on your father’s face fails to budge the dread you’re feeling. “You can be excused as well, Atticus.”

You miss the way your father and Atticus exchange looks as you stood up. There wasn’t a verbal agreement, but Atticus stands up tall, determined to make you feel better. He trails behind you, and suddenly, he slings his arm across your shoulders. “You know what’s one of the things I missed at camp?”

“What?” You ask, trying to ignore the heavy feeling in your chest.

“Beating you at Tekken,” Atticus teases. Your lips curve slightly; his playful nature manages to brighten up your mood a little bit. “Let’s play. I’ll go easy on you, but I’m sure you’ll still lose regardless.”

“You’re on,” you nudge him, and Atticus chuckles, walking ahead of you and up the stairs. Your hand grips the railing, and you walk up a few steps before halting, and your eyes find the front door.

“You don’t get it!”

“I don’t.” You shrugged, amused at the way Atticus’s eyebrows knitted in disbelief. He ignored you, grabbed the remote, and played the Star Wars movie again. You groaned, seeing the slanted letters move up the TV screen. “Atticus! I can’t watch this!”

“Why not?!”

“Well, first off, my dyslexia won’t let me read that quickly, and if a physically written prologue is needed before a movie… it’s not a good movie!”

“How dare you!” You threw your head back as a laugh bubbled in your throat. The exasperated look on his face was too funny. You had no desire to watch these movies, and you figured if you bothered him enough, he’d give up trying to show them to you. The shrug of your shoulders made him scoff. “Just watch it!”

A huff left your lips, and unwillingly, you returned your gaze to the screen. Suddenly, a hollow knock came from the front door.

“It’s late,” you said, but Atticus was too caught up in the beginning battle of the movie to pay any mind to you. Rarely did you get visitors, definitely not past midnight on a Friday. Cautiously, you rose from the couch and moved toward the door.

Rain erratically hit against your curtain-covered windows; the wind and cold made the walls around you creak as they adjusted. Whatever waited for you at the door, you just wished it was a person, not a weird ghost or monster. Your finger latched on the side of the curtain, allowing you to peek through the glass of your front door.

A gasp left your lips. Alabaster, soaked from the ruthless rain outside, was the last person you expected to see. But even though you didn’t expect him, you had an inkling as to why he was here.

Hastily, you unlocked the door and flung it open. “Al?” You sputtered; his green orbs were surrounded by tired eyes and puffy skin.

“He died this morning,” he strained. Your expression softened, and before you could say anything, Alabaster stepped forward and hugged your shoulders tightly. The raggedness of his breath, the shutter of his body, sent your chest a weight of sorrow. You couldn’t imagine being in his shoes and losing your father to a long battle with cancer at 14. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes; the person you looked up to the most was breaking down. You never thought he would need your help for anything, but it seems that you were wrong. “I’m sorry. You guys live the closest to me, and I didn’t know where to go-”

“It’s okay,” you interrupted. “Oh, Al, I’m so sorry,” your voice cracked, hands rubbed his back as a sob left his lips. A creak of a floorboard caught your attention, and you turned to see a confused Atticus emerging from the living room. With a sad look, he understood what happened, and soon his expression was mimicking yours.

“I’ll wake dad and get clothes,” he said, then rushed upstairs.

Your father didn’t even hesitate to help Alabaster, opening the doors of your house to him. In his greatest time of need, the three of you stood beside him, and overnight, he had a place in your home and in your heart. The three of you spent so much time playing video games, getting into trouble around town, learning magic. All the good times you and Atticus shared with him, were they really worth throwing away to fight with Kronos? You realize now that his departure was never only a betrayal to the camp but to you, Atticus, and your father, and you couldn’t help but think perhaps, you guys didn’t mean as much to him as he meant to you.

A shaky sigh leaves your mouth at the thoughts persistent to ruin your mood. The desire to leave camp was to avoid all the things that reminded you of your siblings, but now that you returned home, you realize that running away isn’t as easy as you thought.

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if your username is bolded that means i can’t tag you ! you probably have your visibility settings on!

[nataliedanovelist]

ROTTMNT - The Apocalypse That Was, But Never Is ch.2

After a lifetime of rebelling against the Kraang, Casey Jones II has a lot to adjust to. He can handle real food and new clothes just fine, but having his parents alive and well and right in front of him is entirely new - and slightly terrifying - territory.

A fanfic dedicated to @fanficmaniatic and @soundwavemain for creating a beautiful idea that I decided to push a little bit further. You can read the premise here.

Posted on AO3.

Ch.1 - Ch.3

~~~~~~~~~~

It took two weeks of healing, patience, and relaxation before everyone felt back to normal, at least normal enough to enjoy pizza again. By the time they were ready to reward Casey for saving the world by giving him a slice, New York had rebuilt itself and the humans were recovering better than expected.

The day after Raph crossed the bridge with one-hundred-twenty-six boxes balanced on top of his head, Casey got to participate in his first sparring session with the turtles.

“Alright, junior,” Raph razzed, pulling out his sais. “Show us what you can do!”

Casey nodded with a smug smile, pulled down his mask, and readied his chainsaw-hockey-stick. One by one Mikey, Leo, Donnie, and Raph attacked Casey, who either blocked with his chainsaw, dodged by swinging on his grappling hook and swinging around to kick their shells, or used his hockey stick to make the opponent duck and then left-hooked them in the jaw.

“Nice job, Casey!” Leo complimented.

Casey grinned; it didn’t matter how many times his master reassured him, old or young, it never quite lost its effect on his confidence. “Thanks, sensei!”

“Sorry, boys, but I gotta borrow Casey,” A voice said from the entrance of the training hall, and April stood there.

“Uh,” Casey lowered his weapon. “Sure, commander. What’s up?”

“I’m taking you out to get a new wardrobe!” April said excitedly. “We gotta get you something else to wear besides apocalypse attire.”

“Uh, okay. Thanks!”

“Have fun!” Raph called after the two of them.

“Don’t talk to strangers!” Leo advised.

“Everyone is a stranger!” Mikey added.

“Make sure you go before you leave!” Donnie instructed. “The restrooms up there are filthy!”

Casey and April rolled their eyes, and went about their little adventure.

April took Casey to a second-hand store, where the time-traveler marveled at the rows and rows of clothes he could choose from. Coming from a world where clothes were scrapes and whatever you could make or find, this was almost overwhelming, which is why April didn’t take him to the mall or time Square. That and she was on a college student’s budget.

And so under the 80s music and behind the chipped door of a changing room, Casey tried on several outfits while April sat in an old moth-eaten chair. He tried on a red long-sleeve, an army-green sweater, a white t-shirt with a blue jean jacket, and also a torn black hoodie with no sleeves with a long-sleeve gray shirt, all the while trying on different blue jeans and black pants, and keeping his wraps and gloves on.

“Nice!” April complimented. “Wanna try something new?”

“Like what?” Casey asked, shrugging.

April grinned, and soon Casey modeled more extravagant styles, like a second-hand suit with a baby-blue tie, a red-leather jacket with a ridiculous amount of pockets, and even a yellow t-shirt with the number six on it, making April laugh, as no offense to Casey, but yellow was not his color.

“Alright, I think we got a good start for you.” April said in line, checking her phone, while Casey held the pile of clothes in his arms. “Black pants and blue jeans, some t-shirts, two different jackets… We’ll stop by the store for some shampoo and socks and other stuff.”

“Uh, thank you so much, commander.” Casey behind the pile in his arms.

“No problem,” April said, pocketing her phone, and asked, “So, commander, huh?”

“Oh yeah!” Casey’s black-beetle eyes shined with excitement. “You were our fearless leader! Under Master Leonardo’s guide, you lead us through dozens of successful raids!”

“Sweet!” April fist-pumped the air with a hiss of excitement. “Was I like your super cool aunt, cuz I’ve always wanted to be the aunt that gives candy and tells stories about their parents. Or was I a super badass type that you couldn’t talk to unless it started and ended with ‘sir’?”

Casey’s cheeks turned pink and he admitted with a smile, “Nah, you and I were cool. You and Mom were best friends, so we hung out a lot. I remember you letting me sit on your shoulders while you went over battle strategies, and Master Leonardo says you taught me my second swear word; Mom taught me my first.”

“Aw,“ The young journalist admired. “Well, I’m glad we were cool. So, if Cassandra’s your mom, who’s your dad?”

Casey’s face dropped a brick.

April shook her head and waved her question away. “Sorry, that was stupid, don’t worry about it.”

“No no, it’s okay… I just didn’t really know him.” Casey admitted. “He died when I was a year old.”

April looked mournfully at her friend. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Casey mumbled. “Just add it to the list of people I lost to the Kraang,” But he then smiled weakly and added, “But thanks to Master Michaelangelo, I have another chance.”

April smiled and gently corrected, “Thanks to you, we have another chance.” And she turned to the cashier, now next in line, and started to unload Casey’s load.

Casey appreciated April’s comment, but he couldn't help but dwell on his past as he held his wrist and looked at his gloved hand and wrapped lower arm.

Why was it so hard to accept he had everything he ever wanted right in front of him? Besides, the timeline had been changed. It never happened.

But it did. To him.

~~~~~~~~~~

From a distance, one would think a giant boulder was sitting at the edge of the dug-out tunnel, but in actuality it was a big snapping turtle mutant, holding his knees, head buried in his arms, completely shielding himself from the cruel world.

Cassandra walked down the tunnel, a pack on her shoulder, and waited until she was a few feet away before pulling out sealed beef jerky. “Here, you’ll need your strength.”

Without looking up, Raph accepted the snack, but resumed his original position, not in the mood to eat, despite his empty stomach.

Cass sat next to him and pulled out some jerky for herself and began to eat, tweaking off the plastic with her teeth, hoping leading by example would help him gain some appetite, but also wanting to be by his side and be of some aid in his darkest hour.

“I’m so sorry, Raphael.”

Raph sighed, tired and defeated.

“He was the first person to ever truly believe in me.” Cass recalled gloomily. “The only one who saw me more than a recruit for nothing less than a violent, sneaky cult.”

Raph snorted. “That’s one way to describe the Foot Faces.” He muttered, lifting his head ever so slightly to look at Cass. His eyes were bloodshot red, matching his torn mask.

Cass chuckled, remembering something, and said, “Did you know you weren’t even allowed to have a name? They didn’t want you to stand out in any way. Your identity was with the clan and the clan only.”

“Really?” Raph clarified, lifting an eyebrow. “That’s stupid. Cassandra’s too good of a name not to use.”

Cass looked away and breathed, “Thanks.”

Raph looked down at the beef jerky in his hand, telling himself he needed to eat - he would be no use to his family if he starved - but the image of holding his father’s limp hand haunted him, and the idea of eating anything made him want to throw up, his throat tightening and his stomach twisting with emotions, his eyes stinging with unfallen tears.

The snapping turtle buried his face in his arms again, breathing hard to try to feel better. He thought he had already cried all his tears, but apparently not. Cassandra watched him, feeling sorry for him, and with no other idea of what to do, and desperate to help someone she really cared about, she used her free arm to hold Raph’s bicep and rub his tight, sore muscles.

It wasn’t much, but Raph was beyond grateful that she was there.

~~~~~~~~~~

Casey, dressed in blue jeans, black sneakers, gray t-shirt, black hoodie with no sleeves, and wraps and gloves, raised a fist to knock on the door, but he froze, knuckles trembling, and lowered his hand and turned away, holding the sides of his face. “I-I-I can’t! I’m not ready!”

Raph walked up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. She’ll be cool about this.”

“But I’m not cool about this,” Casey tried to explain, his eyes pricking with tears. “The last time I saw my mom, Professor Donatello was pumping blood into her and Master Michaelangelo was holding me back from… f-forget it!” Casey stopped himself, seeing the look of horror on Raph’s face.

“Hey hey, look at me, Jones. Look at me.” Raph blended his knees a little to meet the human’s eyes, holding him by the arms gently, then said, “I know you lost a lot in the past, and I’m sorry, but you’ve got a family that’s here for you. Yes, it looks a little different, and yes, we’re different from the people you remember and loved, but I promise you, that whenever you’re ready, whatever you decide to do, we’ll be here for you.”

Casey shut his wet eyes, smiled and nodded, and he and Raph started walking down the hall of the apartment building, where April, Splinter, and the other turtles were waiting. But as courage built and Casey braced himself, he ducked under Raph’s arm, ran towards the door, and rang the doorbell, standing dumbfounded at his own actions.

Cassandra opened the door in her gray sweatpants and hockey t-shirt. She raised an eyebrow at the teenager at her door and said, “Sorry, but I have a vacuum cleaner that works, and I’m too broke for charities or fundraisers.”

Casey’s face turned red and he pulled on the collar of his t-shirt. “Uh, n-no. I… uh, I’m… Um, wh-what I mean to say is… um…”

April hurried to Casey’s side and greeted with a loud, “Cassandra! CJ! MY main queen! What’s shakin’, bacon?!”

“This should be fun.” Cass said, leaning against the doorway with an amused smile. Say what you want about April O'Neil, but a day with her was never boring.

April chuckled nervously, then put a hand on Casey’s trembling back, and said, “Cassandra Jones, I’d like you to meet Casey Jones.”

Casey wasn’t exactly sure how to start delivering the news, but she was a journalism major in college, and that was way better than anything Casey could come up with.

The last three weeks Casey had tried to imagine what his mom might do when she met him. Be confused? Be excited she’s a mom? Be bummed she’s a mom at eighteen? Laugh it off? Dismiss him? Accept him?

What he didn’t expect (but probably should have expected), was for once she learned someone else had her name, she pulled out her hockey stick, raised it for an attack, and screamed, “THERE CAN ONLY BE ONE!”

“CASS, NO!”

[2jaehs]

ETHICS  l  QIAN KUN

genre: smut, daddy!

warning: Dilf!Kun, profressor!Kun, Student!Reader, semi-public, semi-cheating, cursing, alcohol

word count: 5,6k

Your new ethics professor may not be as good as the subject he is teaching.

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

It was a chilly evening and your parents were hosting a couple of friends from work for dinner. Your mother, a professor at your university, was always ready to break in a new lecturer especially if it meant it would benefit you in any way.

The professor who was invited was soon to be your new ethics lecturer for the second semester,  all you knew of him was that he too had a kid at the university and your mother was hoping you’d get along with them.

“Did you find out who’s Mr Qian’s kid yet?” Your mother sipped her tea as she hovered over your desk, scrunching her nose at your Facebook page.

“No mom, you know people my age don’t use Facebook” you groaned and clicked the university page to find the tagged alumni. After a few clicks you noticed the new lecturer had been added and with another click you were on his Facebook page.

“God he is handsome isn’t he ?” Your mom marveled and you shook your head, “you have a husband you know” Your mom let out a laugh and playfully slapped you on your shoulder, “I’m not like that, plus the man teaches ethics he’d be horrified if I was trying anything.”

You shrugged and scanned the professors page until you noticed a post with a familiar looking boy. The two of them stood next to a brand new car and the caption read ‘congrats on the new wheels son.’

“This is.....Minghao, he’s a year below me” you pressed your lips together and looked up at your mother, “he’s pretty chilled I’m sure it will go fine.”

Your mother let out a sigh of relief and patted your back, “okay good so you’ll be able to keep him company tonight then, Hey maybe Mr Qian will give you special treatment after tonight.”

You wished your mom knew how accurate her guess was in the weeks to come.

————————————————————————

You slipped into a comfortable long floral dress and did a light make up look before creeping out of your bedroom to greet your mother’s guests.

“Ah there’s my princess” your dad bellowed to the guests who looked up at you as you made your way downstairs, already wishing you could hide away from your dad’s embarrassing words.

“Hi I’m y/n” you greeted, shaking everyone’s hands. There was a woman in her late 40s and Minghao the boy you had seen around your department from time to time.

“My dads just getting the wine from our cab” Minghao scratched the back of his head nervously as he took a seat across from his mother at the dinner table.

You slipped into the seat next to him, your mother mouthing a thank you for your bare minimum efforts and placed the last cooked dish on the table in front of you.

“I almost thought you were drinking all of that on your own” your dad chuckled as a man shimmied through the door holding two bottles of wine. You felt your heartbeat race when he came into full view, possibly the most handsome man you had ever laid your eyes on. Mr Qian had a wide friendly smile spread across his face as he sat the wine down on the kitchen counter and removed his coat, revealing his extremely toned arms stretching the fabric of his white buttoned shirt.

“Oh you must be y/n” he ran his fingers through his hair and took a seat at the head of the table, in between you and his wife.

“Eh yeah it’s nice to meet you Mr Qian” you smiled politely, trying to keep your eyes off his pouty lips.

You couldn’t believe you were checking out your lecturer right now, in the presence of his wife and son for fucksakes. But he was so unbelievably gorgeous, the way his ash blonde hair was styled framed his face perfectly, and his soft eyes bore into yours as he spoke.

“Please call me Kun” he chuckled sweetly, “unless I’m teaching you then we can switch back to the formalities.”

You nodded and he shot you another friendly smile before your dad began pouring everyone a glass of wine.

You and Minghao zoned out as your mother began talking about the university and let Kun know the basics, from campus etiquette to where he can buy the best coffee.

“Well I’m looking forward to everything” Kun raised his glass to your mother and downed the last bit of it.

“Y/n darling sort the dishes out will you ? We’re going to head to the patio for more drinks” your mother called. All you wanted to do was return to your room, but after letting out a groan you did as you were told.

You scrubbed the dishes as you noticed Minghao was entertaining himself with a game on his phone in the living room. He wasn’t much of a talker and you were grateful for that, you really weren’t in the mood to be sociable with a stranger.

“Sorry to disturb but where is the wine opener ?”

You jumped at the sudden voice and the next thing you knew the leftover suds from your gloves were on Kun’s shirt.

“Shit- I mean sorry I’m sorry” you tore off your gloves and grabbed a paper towel ready to clean up your mess.

“It’s okay y/n” he chuckled and took hold of your wrist as you looked up at him, “it’s just a little water.”

Kun smiled down at you sweetly but you noticed a hint of curiosity in his eyes as you stood still under his touch, not bothered to move under the sudden contact.

“A-are you sure it’s okay?” You asked in a small voice still looking up at him and unconsciously bit down on your lip as your eyes drifted to his plump ones for the 4th time that night.

Kun cocked his head to the side, slowly let go of your wrist, and  wet his bottom lip with his tongue before taking a step back,

“Can I have that wine opener y/n ?” He asked in a low tone.

“Oh right” you pulled open a drawer and retrieved the item, handing it to Kun who grazed his fingers against yours as he received it.

“Thank you.”

————————————————————————

You were in your bedroom reliving that moment over and over again. You were not delusional right ? There definitely was a little tension between you and Mr Qian and you had no idea why.

Did he sense that you were attracted to him ? He probably thought you were awful for even making it known to him since he was married. He taught ethics for heaven's sake, he probably thought you were a horrible person.

Sighing, you turned on your stomach and listened to the voices coming from the patio downstairs. You heard your dad pretty clearly, he was loud but when drunk even louder.

“Y/n is a good student but her mind wanders a lot”

“It’s true, she’s just like her dad”

“Hey!”

You groaned at the sound of your parents yapping and hearing Kun and his wife laugh along only made things worse. How the hell were you going to get through a whole semester of ethics with Mr Qian when he’s already met your insane family ?

A few minutes had passed and you heard a knock on your door. Before you could respond your mother flung open your door and you noticed Mr Qian was lingering right behind her.

Great.

“Sweetheart do you mind giving Kun your notes and essays from last semester” she hiccuped as Kun chuckled softly at her antics.

“Mom I -“

“It’s okay” Kun raised his hands, “you can bring it to me on Monday”

“Nonsense you’re here right now” you mom silenced him, “oh I’ll also fetch the old schedule just so you have an idea of what it all looks like.”

Your mom disappeared down the hall to her study and you expected Mr Qian to follow her but instead he leaned against your doorframe and watched you.

“I didn’t save much...so”

“I thought you were a good student y/n” Kun teased, his dimple showing as he grinned.

You rummaged through your drawers, “I am a good student” you pulled out your old ethics file and got to your feet,

“Not all the time though.”

Kun raised his eyebrow at your words and received the file from you before checking the hallway for your tipsy mother.

“Oh I’ve noticed” he said lowly, his eyes looked around your bedroom then met your stare, “I just hope you will pay attention in my class Miss y/l/n”

“I’ll try my best sir” you responded, chewing on your bottom lip before your mother reappeared and dragged Kun back downstairs.

Kun turned back to get one last look at you. He was taken back that you were still staring at him, those barely innocent eyes enticed him and the way your lips were caught between your teeth made him-

“My daughter is ecstatic for the new semester. Please look after her,” your mother said, handing the last of her notes to Kun.

Kun nodded and thanked her before collecting his family and headed to their cab outside. He pondered on her words and looked over at his wife, “sweet family aren’t they ?”

————————————————————————

It was another chilly winter morning and you were making your way over to your 8am ethics lecture with your best friend Xiaojun. “Dami said the new ethics lecturer is hot as hell” Xiaojun sipped his coffee as you two turned into the corridor, avoiding the lingering students,

“He came to my house over the weekend, he's pretty handsome yeah” you said, feeling butterflies in your stomach just talking about him. Xiaojun was about to speak until the two of you heard a low voice from behind you,

“Good morning you two” Mr Qian greeted with a cheeky smile and slipped into the classroom with his briefcase and coffee.

“Shit do you think he heard me ? shit shit shit” you cursed under your breath as Xiaojun pulled you into the front row of seats. The classroom began filling up and almost every person who walked in did a double take at Kun, it could've been his newness or the fact that he was now the best looking professor in this department.

“Why are we sitting upfront ? this feels weird” you whispered to Xiaojun.

“I want him to think that we pay attention” Xiaojun nudged you as the two of you watched Mr Qian remove his blazer and fold up his dress shirt sleeves. Your breathing hitched as you monitored his veiny arms while he navigated his laptop, thinking back to when he had his hand around your wrist and looked down at you with his almond eyes.

“Hello everyone, I'm Professor Qian, you can refer to me as Mr Qian or...sir” his eyes dropped to you on the last word as if it were reserved just for you.

You couldn't concentrate at all on the lecture and it wasn't due to Xiaojun talking his head off. Every movement Kun made had you adjusting your seating position and every glance had you adjusting your hair or wetting your lips. Every damn second you had to remind yourself that he was married and you were his student, an ethics student. But you couldn't help but wonder if what you were feeling was being reciprocated. You concluded that he was either oblivious and naturally charming or he was toying with you. Either way you looked at it, you knew you were like putty in his hands.

“I hope everyone has a good day and don't forget tomorrow I’ll be doing a short quiz in order to check your process” Mr Qian smiled sweetly and took a seat at his desk, waving off the first student's to leave his room.

You gathered your books and began making your way out when Mr Qian cleared his throat, “y/n can I see you for a bit?” Xiaojun nudged you and winked which only made your face redder than it already was. Spinning on your heels you pressed your lips together and made your way over to his desk.

“Y-yes Mr Qian ?”

“Please take a seat” He smiled and waited until the last person exited the room and shut the door. You returned to your original seat and a nervous feeling overcame you when you realized you were now alone with him.

“I just wanted to return some of the notes you gave me” He began pacing in front of you with his hands stuffed into his pocket, “and I just wanted to check if you were paying attention today”

“I did, I mean I usually go over the slides again later” you bit down on your lip. The chirpy tone of your voice made you cringe, why did you want him to think so highly of you ? that you were a good girl, not slacking off.

Kun nodded and pressed his lips together before retrieving your notes from his desk and handed it to you. You swallowed hard when he leaned over you, his large hands pressing into the desk and a strand of his blonde hair fell out of place and curled over his eyebrow.

“It’s not because you think i'm handsome that you're so distracted now are you?”

A shiver went down your spine at the sound of his silky voice matching his daring eyes as if he was waiting for you to act on it. You looked up at him, he could see his reflection in your doe-like eyes and it made him unconsciously lick his lips.

“I uhm….I'm sorry” you battered your eyelashes at him, hoping he would keep this information to himself and not out your words to your mother.

“Im sorry...who?” his voice was stern. Something dark had overcome him and it excited you.

“Im sorry...sir”

You watched his eyes light up by your words and it was enough indication that you weren't being delusional about him. Kun took a step back and returned to his desk signaling the end of your conversation. You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip and grabbed your notes heading straight for the door.

What the hell were you getting yourself into?

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

Most of the next three weeks Kun was pretty normal. He treated you just like every other student in the room and it made you feel a tad jealous. You waited for his glances or him asking you to stay after class but he completely ignored you. Maybe he came to his senses and felt guilty flirting with a student when he was married. That was until Friday came around and you were sitting in your mom’s office.

“One sign of pleasant weather actually got you wearing a skirt ?” Your mother teased as she bit into her salad.

“I've never worn it before and I think it looks cute” you pouted looking down at your beige and chocolate brown checkered mini skirt.

“You do look cute sweetheart and you'd look even cuter organizing my store room”

You groaned at your mothers request but jumped to your feet knowing you didn't have anything else to do. It sucked that the weather was actually perfect for an outfit to tease Mr Qian in but his lecture had been cancelled for the day. You opened the store room only to be greeted by dust and darkness, not surprised that the state of the shelves were a mess in a few short weeks since you last cleaned them.

Grabbing a flashlight you got started on the lower shelves when you heard a knock on your mom’s door and Kun walked in holding a box of folders.

“You're done already ?” Your mom said, mouth filled with her chicken wrap as Kun placed the box on her desk,

“Yes I scanned them onto my usb, It’s easier catching up that way” he replied politely,

“Okay well I’ll tell y/n to put these away, I'm still trying to finish these reports and my lunch”

Kun tutted at your mother’s words and began unpacking the box, carrying the folders over to the storeroom, “I'm not doing anything right now and we cant let y/n do everything on her own now can we?”

Your eyes widened as he joined you in the dark storeroom, his figure completely hidden from your mother as she continued snacking on her wrap and eyes engrossed in her computer,

“Kun you're too kind, okay you two have fun.”

You held your breath as you felt his arm brush against your back as he worked on the shelf behind you. His perfume was sweet, the scent tickled your nose while he moved around the compact room.

“Where’s section R 20-30 ?” Kun asked you softly, squinting as the flashlight you held caught his eye.

“Oh sorry uhm it's down here you can give it to me-”

“It's okay I got it” Kun mused and crouched down next to your bare legs trying to find the placement of the file in hand. You kept your focus on the shelf in front you, freezing when you felt the tips of his hair brush against your knee. Kun slid the file in its place and allowed his fingers to dance along your legs as he stood up, scanning your face for a reaction. When you gathered yourself you turned back to placing files in their respectful spots earning a scoff from Kun. He cocked his head to the side, amused by your composure. He touched you a few feet away from your mother and you didn't budge, he was impressed.

You thought his teasing was over until Kun stood beside you, shielded in the dark and you felt his warm breath against your neck. You froze when you felt his fingers on your inner thigh, slowly moving up until he pinched and you squealed, bumping into the shelf.

“Darling are you okay ?” Your mom called from her desk.

“Answer her y/n” Kun whispered before placing an open mouth kiss on your neck.

You cleared your throat and prayed your voice wouldn't crack, “Im okay just tripped over something, the usual” You heard your mother chuckle, thanking the heavens that she was so oblivious to what was going on in her store room right now.

You felt Kun smile against your neck and his fingers returned to your inner thigh, moving up until he grazed against your lace panties. Kun hummed when he felt how wet you were for him, you couldn't believe how wet you were for your professor at this moment. Kun skillfully moved your underwear to the side and felt your wetness before bringing his finger up to your mouth.

His lips curled into a smile waiting to see how dirty you were. All of this seemed like a test to you, as if he wanted to see how much you could endure before he had his way with you. The way he looked at you made you want him right then and there. Guys your age couldn't handle a girl like this as much as they tried to convince themselves. Your sex life was boring, all of them were the same but this, this was exhilarating.

Kun’s mouth parted as he watched your pouted lips meet his finger and lick his finger clean. The way he looked at you made you feel proud, he made you feel like you aced your assignment.

“Dammit I have a last minute meeting, sorry sweety I can't drive you home today should I call a cab ?” your mother sighed as you and Kun innocently stepped out of the store room.

“I don't mind giving her a ride home,” Kun offered, his attention fully on your mother despite feeling your glance on him.

“Kun you are a lifesaver seriously, how do I repay you ?” Your mom grabbed her satchel from her desk and made her way to the door.

“How about dinner? Jia and I really enjoyed your hosting” Kun offered, helping your mom lock up. You felt weird when he mentioned his wife’s name, hating that you were jealous of the woman who actually got to call him hers. It also made you feel as if you were just a play thing for him, and that none of this would affect him but rather you.

You were lost in your own thoughts until you realized your mother had already agreed to his offer and you were now standing alone in the corridor with Kun.

“Shall we ?” Kun gestured for you to lead the way and the two of you walked in silence until you got to his car.

The first ten minutes were silent, all that could be heard was the faint voices on the radio and the tyres of the vehicle moving against the gravel road. Kun smiled to himself as he watched you pull out your phone to distract yourself from the uncomfortable silence.

“y/n do you have a boyfriend ?” He asked a little too casually for your liking.

“No I don't”

“Why is that?”  His question made you look up at him, confused as to why he would ask you a question like this after he had already explored most of you just a couple minutes ago.

“Not interested in what this campus has to offer” you shrugged and looked out of the window, “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Does your wife know you have a professor student kink?”

Kun clenched his jaw at your words and suddenly pulled into a vacant parking lot of a fast food joint. Before you could say another word Kun wrapped his hand around your throat and pulled you in for a rough kiss. It was absolutely tantalizing, the way he tasted, the way his tongue fought with yours but it ended abruptly.

“You're a brat you know that ?” he chuckled dryly, “Jia and I are soon to be divorced, we only do work social activities because It makes a good impression.”

You felt a sense of relief and excitement. Even though it was a pretty fucked up arrangement going on currently, it lifts a burden off your shoulder knowing they will no longer be married.

“Why...me?” you bit down on your lip and looked up at him. Kun softened up and slumped into his seat, running his fingers through his ash blonde hair, “I don't know, the shallow answer is that I find you incredibly attractive”

“What's the other answer ?”

“Look,” Kun turned to face you, “We hardly know each other but I feel an instant connection to you, I tested your morality, which is fucked up, to see if you were like me, someone like me preaching ethics yet borderline fucked up?”

You could tell there was more to it, a personal war with himself especially since he was about to get divorced. Of Course you wished there was more to it but he was probably not ready to get involved with someone especially after years of marriage to then hook up with one of his students at that.

“Mr Qian everyone is fucked up I mean that's why we have to study ethics isn't it ?” you reached out to console him, rubbing his shoulder as he chuckled at your words. Kun leaned in and gave you a soft kiss on your lips,

“How did I come across someone like you y/n..”

“All im saying is I’ll be happy to be your rebound, your play thing whatever you need….Sir”

Kun shifted in his seat as he watched you lift his hand, making him palm your face as you took his thumb into your mouth and sucked on him gently. You heard his muffled curses as he adjusted his pants, trying his best to keep a tent from forming as he felt your tongue swirl around his thumb.

Kun quickly snapped out of the trance you had him in and restarted the car, getting back on the route to your house. You snickered to yourself as you noticed how red his ears were from the ordeal, it was nice being the dominant one for once.

He pulled up to your house and unlocked the car door for you, “I’ll see you at dinner tomorrow, wear a dress for me okay sweetheart ?”

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It was saturday evening and being an obedient student you wore one of your most...accessible dresses. You made it look classy despite the length barely sitting above your knee and topped it off with a glossy makeup finish. Your mom had told you that Minghao wasn't attending tonight and you might get bored from their conversations, little did she know that this might be one thrilling night.

You helped your mom set up the table while your dad organized the drinks and played soft music in the background to set the ambience. Just as you finished the last utensil arrangement you heard the doorbell ring and the butterflies in your stomach had returned.

“Kun good to have you back man” your dad went in for a handshake as Kun and his wife stepped in. Kun was good at playing the innocent professor. The way he greeted you with such poise as if his hand wasn't up your skirt 24 hours ago.

“Let's not get too drunk now shall we, we're driving home this time” Jia tutted as she handed your mom a bottle of wine.

Suddenly the room was filled with a bright light followed by thunder, making you and your mom jump at the loud noise. “Seems like you're not driving home at all buddy” your dad said peering outside as the harsh rain began pouring down, already starting to flood the driveway.

“He’s right, you guys can stay in our spare bedroom for tonight,” your mom added. You and Kun both shared a quick glance before your dad pulled him into another conversation.

“Honey can you make sure the room is set up ?” your mother turned to you and you nodded, smiling politely as Jia thanked you.

By the time you were done with the bedroom you were welcomed by everyone already seated at the dinner table waiting for you. Unsure if it was planned by Kun but your seat was placed right next to him, with Jia at the head of the table conversing with your mom on her opposite end.

Kun poured you a glass of wine and you silently thanked him as your dad continued his intense conversation about whatever he watched on the news network this week. You sighed poking at your potatoes, being bored as your mom predicted you would be until you felt a hand on your thigh.

Keeping your eye focused on your dinner you scooted a little closer to Kun until his hand was able to fully grope your thigh without anyone at the table noticing a thing. You felt the icy cold sensation from his ring as he caressed your skin, not doing anything too drastic since everyone was in close proximity. You inwardly groaned when he eventually pulled his hand away, completely engrossed in the conversation happening between your mom and Jia. As Kun added his piece to the conversation you used the opportunity to  do a bit of your own exploring and let your hand slip into his lap.

Kun pressed his lips together as he tried to focus on the chat instead of the hand that was now palming him under the table. You took a sip of your wine as you continued rubbing him through his black trousers, already feeling him get extremely hard under your touch. Until it was getting too much for him to handle, Kun pushed your hand away and excused himself from the table,

“I'm gonna use the bathroom, please excuse me”

“y/n why don't you show Mr Qian where the bathroom is” Your mom said, still chatting along with Jia and your dad.

You sighed and played the good daughter, leading Kun upstairs until the two of you were out of sight. With one swift movement Kun had you against the wall in the hallway, his hand wrapped around your throat and his erection pressed against your abdomen.

“Are you fucking insane ? you want me to fuck you in front of your parents is that it ?” he growled,

“Oh so you can have fun but I can't ?” you rolled your eyes only causing Kun to press into you harder.

“God you're so bratty, I can't wait to teach you a lesson” Kun bit into your neck, sucking until he was satisfied with its purple colour, “I'm going to go downstairs and telling your parents that you went to your bedroom, keep that dress on until I visit your room later tonight understand ?”

“Yes sir.”

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

You waited in your room, doing as you were told and even heard your parents, Kun and Jia head upstairs and say their drunken goodnights. The sound of Kun’s voice just outside your door made you squirm in bed, wanting, waiting for him to just show up and have his way with you.

It was around 2am, your eyes were heavy and you sighed as you looked at the time on your desk clock. What were you thinking ? There was no way Kun could pull this off without his wife suspecting him or even your parents hearing someone sneaking around the house. But then again everyone was so damn drunk a criminal could break in and they'd have no idea.

Suddenly your door creaked open and in the darkness you saw a figure creep in, locking the door behind them. You sat up in bed and Kun quickly rushed over, placing a hand over your mouth and brought his lips to your ear,

“You have to be real quiet baby, even with all this rain and thunder, we have to be careful”

You nodded at his words and Kun placed a kiss on your forehead before pulling the covers off your body and switched on your bedside lamp in order to look at your body. He traced his fingers along your legs, over your abdomen and between your breasts until his thumb grazed your lips, parting them slightly.

Taking the hint you sat up and positioned yourself in front of Kun as he began unbuckling his trousers and let them pool around his ankles. You looked up at him as you palmed him through his boxers, watching him throw his head back sighing from the sensation. You pulled down his boxers and licked your lips once getting a full view of his erection, wasting no time in taking him fully into your mouth until he touched the back of your throat.

“Fuck” Kun mumbled softly as you began sucking him off, slowly in order to lessen the noise and to keep him fairly quiet.

Kun tugged on your hair and bit down on his lip watching your saliva drop from your mouth as he pulled out of you. You looked absolutely delicious, all he wanted to do was ruin you.

You stood up facing him until he began kissing you softly, unzipping your dress revealing your white lacy set and giving him his first taste of your naked figure. “You're beautiful” he cooed as he left soft pecks across your neck, especially on the spot where he had marked you earlier on.

Kun removed his shirt and unhooked your bra before pressing your back into your bed and his hips began grinding into yours, slowly, making you feel every part of him as the two of you returned to each other's lips.

“You're such a bad girl you know that” Kun groaned as he slipped his hand into your underwear and rubbed circles with his thumb, making you squirm underneath him.

“Teach me a lesson daddy” you sighed and the nickname made Kun growl into your ear. Kun pulled off your underwear and turned you until you were on all fours. He positioned himself behind you and as he pushed in he clasped down on your mouth and bit down on your shoulder, preventing both of you from moaning too loudly.

Kun’s hips slammed into yours erratically, switching from fast to slow strokes in order to drown out any suspecting sounds.

“I want to ride you daddy” you managed to whisper through his fingers and again Kun caved to the nickname and pulled out, falling onto his back as he awaited your offer. You slowly straddled him and took in his length once more, as Kun sat up, meeting your thrusts and held onto your ass and throat as you rode him as best as you could. Kun felt you tighten around him as you neared your climax and flipped you around until you were underneath him and he was now in control of both of your orgasms.

“Im so close..” you whined as Kun hit your sweet spot repeatedly.

“Me too baby, lets keep it quiet okay I promise I’ll make it up to you soon”

Kun brought you to your climax and he followed quickly after, his sweaty body falling on top of you as he tried to catch his breath. You reached for the covers and Kun turned onto his back and allowed you to cuddle into his chest. You smiled as he placed a soft kiss on your forehead and stroked your head,

“Thank you, God I want more, I can't wait for more” he whispered as you giggled,

“I’ll be here, and besides you're going to help me pass ethics right ? “ you pouted. Kun chuckled softly and massaged his temples, “okay how about you study hard and i’ll reward you with whatever you want sweetheart,”

“Deal” you gleamed, “Thank you sir.”

[mitchpell]

The Ghost of Christmas Past

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M, Gen Fandoms: Hawkeye (TV 2021), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies) Relationships: Clint Barton/Laura Barton, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton & Cooper Barton & Laura Barton & Lila Barton & Nathaniel Pietro Barton Characters: Clint Barton, Lila Barton, Cooper Barton, Nathaniel Pietro Barton, Laura Barton Additional Tags: Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Pre-Episode: s01e01 Never Meet Your Heroes (Hawkeye), Christmas Vacation, Deaf Clint Barton, Hard of Hearing Clint Barton, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Family Drama, Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Slice of Life

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Chapter #6: Flight to New York

“Keep going, Nate,” Clint encouraged, narrowly avoiding bumping the four-year-old with his own suitcase when he stopped yet again in the aisle-way. “Keep following, Lila.”

Nate groaned, but otherwise did as directed, letting his head flop and slapping his hands across each empty seat, as he took exaggeratingly heavy steps.

Clint shook his head in begrudging amusement, but otherwise didn’t comment, grateful this was the worst he was getting considering it was over an hour past nap time.

“—i- is u-,” Cooper announced, stopping at row twenty-seven, which put them right in the middle of the main cabin.

“Alright, suitcases overhead. Coop, help Lila with hers please,” Clint instructed, as he collapsed the handle on Nate’s bag. “Nate, we’re on this side.” He shepherded his youngest toward the window seats before hoisting the four-year-old’s suitcase up into the overhead compartment. Once he had both his and Nate’s bags secured, he turned to help Cooper.

“Coop, you’re in the lone seat on this side,” Clint directed, pointing to the center-section seat across the aisle from the other three they had tickets for. “Lila, you’re over here next to the window. Nate, you’re in the middle.”

With the kids settled, or at least mostly settled, Clint sank down into his seat, unable to stop the groan that escaped as a sense of relief washed over him. It was probably a little premature—they still had the roughly three hour flight, plus the LaGuardia airport and the car ride to the hotel to contend with—but he couldn’t help but feel that the more challenging aspects of their departing journey were behind them.

“Dad?”

“Yeah,” Clint replied, turning towards Coop, who merely pointed at Lila in return.

“Sorry, Sweetheart,” he said, his cheeks burning slightly as he twisted back around to more fully face his daughter. Lila and Nate were both seated on his right, which meant hearing was going to be a bit of a struggle.

Laura had tried to get the bulk of their seats on the other side of the cabin for this reason, so two of them would be seated to his left if he sat on the aisle. Unfortunately, booking the trip a little more than two months beforehand had meant slim pickings in terms of seat selection. They were lucky that the four of them were sitting all together, let alone with an ideal arrangement.

“What do we do wi— our backpack-?” Lila asked.

“Backpacks go under the seat in front of you, at least until after takeoff,” Clint replied, as he dug a king-size package of fruit-flavored Lifesavers out of his bag. “Here,” he said, tearing open the candy and handing both Lila and Cooper a small handful. “These will help your ears during take-off.”

“I want one,” Nate whined, as he reached over to try and take the bag out of Clint’s hands.

“I’m going to give you one,” Clint assured him, pulling the bag back and shoving it in his coat pocket, “but since you need to hold onto Captain America, I’m going to hold on to the candy. That way you won’t drop it or lose it.”

“But, I want one now,” he pouted, his lower lip quivering and his eyes immediately glassing over.

“You’ll get one soon enough,” Clint stated firmly, leveling his youngest with a look that left no doubt rudeness wasn’t going to be tolerated and a fit wasn’t going to get him his way. “Let's get your bag tucked away and you buckled in,” Clint continued, once he was sure the waterworks were back under control, “and then you can have a Lifesaver.”

Nate nodded, sniffing loudly before handing his backpack over.

Clint managed to force a smile as he took the proffered bag, reminding himself yet again that Nate was just tired. They all were. Worn down by the tediousness of travel. A tediousness that was not yet overcome by any general excitement about the trip.

Taking a breath, he made sure all the zippers were firmly closed on Nate’s backpack, before tucking it and his own under the seats in front of them. Sitting up, he turned back to his youngest. “Did you find your buckles yet?” he asked, once again forcing enthusiasm into his voice.

“I can’t bind rubber one,” Nate replied, holding up only one of the two ends.

“Hang on,” Clint told him with a grunt, leveraging himself up and out of his seat so he could better search. “Let me see if I can find it.” He started digging around between and behind the seats. “I don’t—Lila do you see it—wait, wait, never mind I got it,” he proclaimed, pulling the buckle out of its hiding place. “You want to do it?” he asked Nate, as he handed over the other end.

“Zip, peas!” Nate exclaimed, snatching the buckle out of Clint’s hand.

Clint watched as he clipped the two ends together, only fumbling the pieces a little bit before locking them into place. “Snug it up,” he coached, making sure the strap was tight enough without overdoing it. “Good job, Bud.” He ruffled Nate’s hair before turning his attention to his own seatbelt. “Coop, Lila, seatbelts.”

“Do we ha-e to tear gems —e entire night?” Cooper asked, clearly annoyed.

“I don’t,” he started before trailing off with a frown. “Tear gems?”

“Our -eatbe-t-,” Coop repeated, tugging at the strap around his waist for emphasis. “Do we ha-e to wear our -eatbe-t- —e entire ti-e?”

“Just during take-off and landing,” Clint assured him, “or if we hit any significant turbulence.”

“W-at’- —at?” Nate asked.

“Turbulence? It's, um, like a rough patch of air. It can make the plane shake and bounce, like a car on a bumpy road.”

“Wi— we hit any turbu-en—?” Lila asked, concern evident in her tone.

“Yes,” Clint replied, frank and honest, “but it's nothing to be worried about. Every plane hits turbulence at some point during a flight. Like I said, it's just like potholes on a road. Nothing to stress about unless you hit a major patch, and severe turbulence is very rare.”

Lila bit her lip, worrying it between her teeth anxiously. “Dad?” she asked tentatively, a blush reddening up her cheeks. “Can you -it between -e and Nate, in-tead?”

Clint smiled warmly, any annoyance he might have felt at the prospect of reshuffling now that they’d just gotten settled was quickly squelched by the uneasy look on his daughter’s face. “Yeah,” he told her, as he undid his seatbelt. “I can do that, but if I’m going to be in the middle, I want Nate to sit by the window.”

Lila nodded. “Ok,” she agreed, gathering up her Lifesavers and cell phone before unbuckling her seatbelt and standing up.

“Come on, Bud,” Clint encouraged, reaching over to undo Nate’s seatbelt, “climb on over there.”

It didn’t take much to get them both resettled and buckled back in, especially since Nate was eager to comply, knowing it would help make Lila feel better. Once they were all resituated, Clint dug his cell out of his coat pocket. “Coop, Lila, phones on airplane mode,” he instructed, as he switched his over, before tucking it away again.

Continue Reading on AO3

[braiawrites]

Lost & Found - Chapter 3

Summary: A messenger fills Jude and Madoc in on important news. Jude and the cat pay a visit to the palace. || Inspired by this prompt by @newblood-freya

Words: 3188

Rating: T

Warnings: Brief description of a murder in the first section.

Links:

Fic Masterlist

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER FOUR

Prompt by newblood-freya

Read it on AO3

Writing Masterlist

Send me an ask!

A/N: So I thought writing a multi-chapter would be much easier once I had a solid plot laid out but when I tell you I was dragging words out by my teeth—yeah, I'm not super happy with this chapter but it's here and technically I had it finished in time, just not posted so uh. Good for me? Yeah I'll shut up now, here's chapter 3.

***

Dead. One of the princes was dead.

Jude stood stock still for a long moment, the shock on her face palpable as the words echoed in her mind.

Prince Dain was dead. Did that mean Cardan was, too?

Finally, she swallowed and took a shaky breath. “Prince Dain is dead?"

“Did you not know?” Madoc’s voice was heavy, his eyes sharp.

“No,” Jude gasped. “No, I–no. I thought this was about Cardan. I thought—I don’t know what, exactly, but not this.”

Madoc ran a large hand over his jaw, and then—

“Sit.” He gestured to one of the chairs set along the wall. “You might as well stay to hear the rest.”

She nodded numbly, hesitating before turning to the chair. The cat was standing next to her, black fur fluffed up and small body trembling, his eyes fixed on her foster father. He seemed as horrified as she felt.

“Your guest can stay as well,” Madoc said, tilting his head curiously at the cat. “We will talk about keeping pets later.”

With a nod, she scooped him up as she moved to sit down, tucking the trembling form into herself. She wanted to murmur comforts into his soft black fluff—as much for him as for herself, she suspected—but with Madoc and the messenger looking on, she settled for soothingly stroking the length of his back.

Madoc turned his attention to the messenger boy. “Report,” he instructed, like the boy were one of his soldiers.

He certainly reacted like one, his spine straightening and his chin lifting as he snapped his liquid gaze up to Madoc’s.

Jude didn’t blame him. The old redcap could have that effect.

“Prince Dain never returned to his quarters yesterday,” the imp said. “He was found by a librarian this evening in the royal lineage section, propped against the shelf and—” the imp paused, looking slightly sick, “and with his throat slit.”

“Any other injuries?” Madoc’s voice was cool and steady, as though he were asking about the weather, not the murder of a prince.

“I didn’t—I don’t know, sir. I didn’t see the body.”

At the general’s displeased grunt, the boy rushed to add, “But—at the time of my departure, they were just going to fetch a royal physician. They’ll have the report by now, I’m sure.”

“Hmph,” Madoc responded. “I’ll just have to go and find out for myself. Dismissed.”

As the imp bowed and turned to leave, Jude found herself blurting, “Wait!” the word coming out before she had a chance to think better of it.

The imp halted, glancing first at Madoc, who shrugged, and then at her.

“What about Prince Cardan?” she asked. “Has there been any news of him?”

The cat on her lap stirred slightly, his paws kneading into her legs at the mention of the disfavoured prince’s name.

“Not to my knowledge,” the boy said, shaking his head, and Jude felt her heart drop.

She nodded her thanks as the messenger bowed again and left, not trusting herself to speak through the tightening of her throat or the worry washing through her. For all he’d done to her, for all that he was her worst enemy, she never would have wished him dead.

Madoc’s commanding rumble broke through her fear. “Go and have the stablehands prepare me a mount,” he said. His eyes glared into hers as he repeated, “One mount.”

“I’m not—” Jude started, her fists clenching, but she swallowed her protest. There was no point in saying anything—he’d already made it clear that he wouldn’t allow her to come.

“Fine,” she said instead, and gathered her cat up as she left.

~ ~ ~

Jude did not go to the stables, but instead marched straight to her room, the heels of her boots clicking on the wooden floors. She caught a servant along the way to demand a mount be made ready for Madoc, and then set about preparing for her own trip to the palace.

As she strapped her sword belt to her waist and hid daggers under her sleeves, she kept glancing sidelong at the little cat pacing her floor. His tail lashed viciously with each step, his eyes bright. He must sense her own agitation.

“I’m sorry,” she told him. “I’m just worried. But I’m not staying home until Madoc brings word. For all I know, he’ll leave out all of the most important details to keep me from getting involved.” She scowled. “I’m not a child anymore. And I’m going to find out what happened to Cardan.”

The cat meowed and when she glanced over he met her eyes full on with his own amber bright glare. She could have sworn he’d sounded annoyed as she glared back at him, trying not to let her unnerve show. It wasn’t natural how human he seemed sometimes.

With a deep, steadying breath, she strapped the last sheath to her thigh and double checked the blade before sliding it into place.

She glanced at her cat again. “Are you coming?”

He mewed and clambered up her clothes, his claws pricking her skin.

“I swear you do that on purpose,” she grumbled as she checked out her window.

In the distance, Madoc was galloping astride a dark horse, almost at the edge of the Milkwood. By the time she had a mount saddled, he would be too far ahead to notice her.

With the cat slunk over her shoulders like a warm scarf, she made her way down to the stables and chose a light-footed creature reminiscent of a reindeer with glassy eyes and long fangs on either side of its mouth.

She made good time through the woods, her mount swift and smooth as it dodged trees and leapt fallen logs. The cat perched on the saddle before her, little face upturned in the wind, eyes slitted in pleasure, and Jude would have joined him had there not been a knot in her stomach at the possibility of Cardan being dead.

When the palace of Elfhame came into view, she pulled her mount to a stop and left it to graze out of view. Though it would have been quicker, coming careening up to the castle on the back of a fanged reindeer would be far from inconspicuous.

She continued on foot, the cat riding on her shoulders once again until they neared the base of the hill where the entrance was hidden by humming magic.

Two guards stood watch today, a precaution to keep unwanted visitors out after the news of Prince Dain’s murder. She had planned to enter quietly, but that may be impossible now.

As Jude drew closer, the guards moved in unison, drawing their weapons.

“What business do you have at the palace?" the taller of the two asked.

Jude lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. “I’m here with General Madoc,” she declared, to which the shorter guard snickered.

“Sure you are, mortal.”

The taller one shook her head. “The general specifically stated that he came alone.”

Jude fought the urge to clench her fists as the guards remained unmoving. “I need to see him,” she tried, “it’s important.”

“There’s nothing we can do about that,” the short guard drawled. “No one’s allowed in or out without explicit orders.”

The taller one shrugged apologetically. “Sorry. We can take a message, if you like.”

Jude shook her head, already turning away with a mumbled excuse, when her cat leapt off her shoulder and disappeared into the hill.

“Hey!” she called after him, moving to follow, but the guards stepped in front of her.

“You can’t go in.”

“But my cat—”

“You live in the general’s household?” the taller guard asked.

“Yes.”

“We’ll make sure the cat gets sent back with him if we see it again.”

She ground her teeth but nodded. “Fine. Guess I’m leaving then.”

“Guess you are,” the shorter guard challenged.

She fought the urge to say something smart back, or draw her sword on him, and instead walked around the hill.

“Where are you going now?” one of the guards called.

Nosy, she thought, but yelled back, “Visiting a friend,” and rounded the base of the hill until she was out of their view.

There had to be another way in, and so long as there was one, she would find it. She paced a half circle around the side of the hill opposite the guards, searching for another illusioned entrance or tunnel, a servants’ door—nothing.

Jude was just about to give up when she heard a triumphant, “Mrrrow!” from somewhere above. It was her cat, his little black head poking out an open window halfway up the hill.

“You genius little kitty!” she praised him, jogging up the sloping earth and climbing through the round window. As she eased the wood-bordered glass pane shut again, she whispered, “I didn’t even know these opened.”

The cat purred, looking decidedly smug, and Jude marvelled again at his strangeness.

“You don’t happen to know the way to the dungeons too, do you?” she asked, half jokingly.

He chirped and wound around her leg before trotting out of the room.

~ ~ ~

Jude entered the dungeons on quiet feet, trailing after the little black cat. The moment his paws touched the cold stone he yelped and leapt back onto her shoulders, his claws digging in.

“Spoiled rotten,” she accused him. “You have twice as many legs as me, you know. If anything you should be the one doing the carrying.”

She could have sworn he stuck his tongue out at her in response, or maybe it was just a coincidence, so she blew in his face.

The dungeon was mostly empty, with the few cells that were filled being deeper down. She supposed crimes weren’t oft committed in a land were a forceful promise was binding. Or, Jude thought as her eyes caught on an executioner’s sword mounted on the wall, maybe there was a darker reason.

She tried not to shiver in the damp air as she stalked past rows of cells, her eyes scanning the shadows for a pixie girl in a gown fit for a revel.

When at last she stopped before a small figure in a dirty gown, the cat sprung from her shoulders to stand, hissing and hackles raised, before the bars.

Behind the bars, the pixie sat up from where she was lounging on her straw palette, a laugh spilling from her lips, bitter and grating to Jude’s ears.

“Well, hello again,” the prisoner smirked, ruby red eyes flashing in the low light. “It looks like you came back to find me. You miss me that much?”

Jude tried to hide the confusion swirling inside her as she picked up her yowling cat. “We’ve never met,” she stated, to which the pixie laughed again.

“Not everything’s about you, love.” Her eyes locked on the cat as she jerked her chin at it. “Cat bring you here?”

Jude frowned. “Leave him out of it.”

“Alright, if you insist,” she shrugged. “So what do you want? Because as much as I’d like to think you came just to visit, I find it hard to believe you would appreciate my company so much—especially since we’ve never met.”

Jude shifted. She hadn’t thought about what she was going to actually say once she got here—ask nicely for the return of the prince? Grab the prisoner through the bars and shake her? Instead, Jude steeled herself and dove straight in, barrelling through both tact and diplomacy in one fell swoop.

“I have questions.”

“And what makes you think I have answers?”

“I already know you’re connected to Cardan’s disappearance,” she said, stepping closer, “and you’re going to tell me where he is.”

“Oh?” Red brows lifted over honey gold skin as the prisoner regarded Jude with some interest. “Am I now?”

“Yes, you are.” Jude ground the words out through gritted teeth, resisting the urge to lay her hand on her sword hilt as the pixie seemingly considered her options. Finally, she leaned back on her straw palette like it was the most comfortable bed in the world.

“No.” Her tone was flat, void of emotion, but there was a flicker of something—anger? Regret?—behind her eyes.

“I’m not asking,” Jude said, meeting the pixie’s glare.

“Oh, but I think you are. What else are you going to do? Threaten me? I’m already behind bars, darling, and you snuck in here. As soon as I called for a guard, you’d have to run, or risk being caught.”

Jude thought about bluffing or lying her way out of the trap, but curiosity got the better of her.

“How did you know I snuck in?”

“I didn’t, for sure, until just now,” the pixie responded, and Jude cursed herself for her stupidity. “I’d guessed it, because you have no uniform and no keys, and because no one ever enters from that direction.” She gestured down the hall where Jude had come from minutes prior. “And because the castle already came to see me today.”

At Jude’s frown, the girl elaborated with a roll of her eyes.

“They come down here every single day to ask me if I’m ready to tell them what I did with our dearest Prince Cardan, and every single day I tell them no, I’m not ready, I’m still literally unable to talk about anything I’ve done EVEN IF I WANTED TO, because I’m under a damn OATH!”

She threw her hands up in frustration before covering her face with her arms, huffing a sigh before continuing. “And then they walk away and tell me well then, no food until you’re ready to talk, and I always scream my worst insults at them as they leave, which I have to admit makes me feel just a teeny bit better.”

She sat up and met Jude’s eyes with a shrug. “I mean, it’s not nice of me, but I think I deserve it after all this.” She gestured to the mildew damp walls and bounced a bit on the creaky bed.

A pang of sympathy wormed its way into Jude’s heart, but she shut it out.

“How are you not dead?” she asked. “You have to have said something or you’d have starved by now.”

The girl laughed again. “Oh, but that’s the beauty of it! See, this cell is enchanted specially by High King Eldred himself.” Her eyes flashed and her smile faltered, so momentarily Jude could almost have been convinced it didn’t happen. Almost.

“Once you step inside, you can feel as hungry or as thirsty as you like, but you’ll never die from it. It’s a special kind of torture,” the pixie grimaced.

Jude swallowed the pity rising in her throat and lifted her chin. “Well, you probably deserved it. You’re a murderer afterall.”

“I—” the girl began to protest, but she stopped before she could say anymore. A moment passed before she coughed.

“Like I said, I can’t tell you anything about what I’ve done, but I can tell you that if I had been given a choice, I wouldn’t have gone after Cardan.”

“And Dain?”

“Dain?” the pixie echoed. “What about him?”

“They found him murdered this evening. Did you go after him?”

“What?” If the look of utter shock on the pixie’s face hadn’t convinced Jude, her next words did: “I didn’t kill Dain. You know I can’t lie, so you believe me, right? You know I’m telling the truth.”

Slowly, Jude nodded. “I believe you.”

“Listen: I can’t tell you what I did to Cardan, or why, or who I work for, but I can tell you this,” the pixie said, moving to stand by the bars.

“Desires sometimes take unexpected forms, but chasing them does no good when they’re already within your grasp. Cardan is closer than you think, but there is a power that will always hunger, and if you don’t stop it soon, it’ll devour not only your prince, but the rest of Faerie as well.”

Silence fell over the jail like a blanket, disturbed only by the drip, drip, drip of water.

Finally, the prisoner raised red brows. “So?”

“Thank you so much, that was so helpful and I now know everything,” Jude declared flatly.

The pixie girl sighed and propped her fists on the soiled waist of her gown. “You can be sarcastic all you want, babe, but I swear, that was as much as I can tell you—you know, binding oath and all? I mean, have you not been listening this entire conversation?”

The cat on her shoulder mewed and Jude glared at him sidelong.

“Whose side are you on?” she huffed, to which he meowed again and lashed his tail.

“Alright, fine.” Jude pressed her lips into a thin line as she turned back to face the girl in the cell. “I’ll figure it out myself.”

With the cat on her shoulder, Jude stalked out of the palace the same way she’d come in.

~ ~ ~

Cardan sat on the windowsill of Jude’s room, watching as the sun began to creep above the horizon, painting the sky in the golden light of dawn. Behind him, Jude was deep in slumber, snoring softly into her pillow, but with everything that had happened today, he couldn’t sleep.

Dain was gone and the palace was in shambles—he’d seen as much when he’d slipped inside. Guards had been everywhere, servants carrying cleaning supplies milled about, and curious courtiers had drifted through the halls, trying to catch a glimpse of what had happened.

When he’d passed by the library, Cardan had paused, resisting the urge to enter. When he breathed in, he’d nearly vomited.

Scents were much stronger to his cat nose, and through the must of old books and scrolls, beneath the scent of centuries of dust, he had smelled the cooling blood of his brother as it seeped into the carpets. It had taken all his willpower not to collapse in his sorrow.

The blankets rustled from inside the room and Jude’s groggy voice reached his ears.

“Kitty? What’re you doin’?”

He glanced at her over his shoulder and gave her a soft mrrm of amusement. Her hair was escaping its braid and dried drool had left a trail down her cheek.

“Come here, kitty,” she crooned, patting the blankets, and Cardan complied, slinking across the room to curl up in the curve of her arm.

Jude’s fingers played in the fluff around his neck and he couldn’t help but purr into the silence. He’d always been disgusted by how much he craved her touch, but he’d discovered of late that her fingers scratching his jaw or playing with his fur was one of his favourite things. He blamed Pellia’s cat curse.

They stayed that way for a long while, Jude stroking his fluff and his purrs warming the ever-lightening room.

When he twisted his face up to look at her, she brushed a kiss to his nose before settling into her pillows and pulling him closer. If cats could blush, he would have been bright pink.

“Sleep tight, kitty,” Jude whispered. “You’re safe here.”

And Cardan knew she was right.

***

A/N: Hello, loves! Thanks for reading and I hope you liked it!! I'm sorry this was a bit late, as I said earlier I struggled with this chapter so much. Thank you all so much for your support though, reading your lovely comments was a big motivation to get this chapter written, and I can say with absolute certainty that I would have given up long ago if it weren't for your kind feedback. I'm sending lots of love to all of you!

(PS: Please let me know if you’d like to be added to or removed from my tag list!)

Tagging: @stardustsroses @nahthanks @jurdanhell @my-one-true-l @thefolkofthefic @greenbriarxrose @bookavert @queen-of-demons-and-hell @theviolettulip @lysandra-ghost-leopard @playlistmusings @localgoof @garnet-babe @iamaprincessallgirlsare

[master-john-uk]

Hello Sir,

I am sorry to read about your cousin's health.

How did your "big" family Christmas go?

Christmas Day was marvelous, thank you for asking.

I think i put in earlier post that, Christmas wouldn't be Christmas without a big family row... I was right!

After I retired to my bed chamber... beloved cousin Richard had some high-volume discussions with his own son and our two stockbroker cousins. Richard was driven home by Uncle Charlie's chauffeur at about 2am.

Richard's behaviour surprised me. He has always been a little argumentative, but the combination of his chemo, steroid tablets and a large quantity of red wine made him hyperactive... and bad tempered.

Richard is fine now. After coming-down from the steroids, he has spent most of this week sleeping. I hope to meet him for a drink tomorrow afternoon. Then it all starts again later in the week with chemo and steroids... but. I will try to discourage him from drinking red wine!

My stockbroker cousins are still the same as they always were, wankers!

[ducklooney]

For some reason I'm posting these drawings again on the occasion of last Donsy week (a week dedicated between the love affair between Donald and Daisy Duck), because the tags I hung on the previous drawing don't do anything on Tumblr, so I'm posting this again. Certainly all four of these drawings (five actually) bring together all seven themes related to Donsy week.

The first drawing (actually the second in line) represents Donald and Daisy in pirate clothes on a houseboat that has been turned into a pirate ship and I used that from some drawings where they are in pirate clothes. A many days ago it was a happy talk day with a pirate so I drew them. 

The second drawing (actually the third in line) presents Donald and Daisy as Nordic gods, in this case as Thor and Sif, taking inspiration from Norse mythology (no, it’s not Marvel not to confuse that, although those characters are taken from Norse mythology as well), based on the theme. “ Storms ”. Thor is a hammer-wielding god associated with lightning, thunder, storms, sacred groves and trees, strength, the protection of mankind and also hallowing and fertility and is also Odin’s son and brother of the evil Loki. The Nordic goddess Sif as Thor’s wife is also a golden-haired goddess associated with the earth, and she is also the protector of the harvest, so I drew her (actually Daisy as that goddess) with a sword and a grain of grain.

The third drawing (actually the fourth in line) of Donald and Daisy represents a man and a woman in clothes from the 1920s and 1930s, on the theme of “Fashion”. Although I didn’t draw them unfortunately in duck form, but the way the clothes they wear in that drawing I drew as if they had a human body, probably the clothes would fit on them (drawn as a redraw blend of old 20s and 30s fashion photos). Sorry about that.

The fourth drawing (the first and fifth published in a row) represents the unification of all four topics into one. Not to lengthen, I linked four themes into one, where Donald and Daisy live with their children, I mean their nieces and nephews (Huey, Dewey, Louie, April, May and June) in their house and are waiting for Daisy to have a baby. DAISY IS PREGNANT! Yes, they got married before that. Donald also bakes pancakes with the kids and helps Daisy in the pregnant months. Yes, Donald and Daisy are in DT17 clothes and hairstyles, with the proviso that I put them in the classic version, and the nieces and nephews are here in the picture between preteens and teenage (yes partly in Quack Pack style, because I love it, plus all of Donald’s nephews wear caps) and they are certainly looking forward to getting another new one in the house. Maybe two (I guess one new brother and sister). Unfortunately, I was in a hurry with this drawing and I made a mistake when drawing my hands and the background turned out to be bad, so I apologize for that. 

For the end, I thank everyone for this Donsy week this year and I hope that next year I will be more free about various topics than it was this year. Also praise to all the other participants who drew great or posted some pictures or texts related to Donsy Week.

Thank you all! And maybe see you next year!

[clintbartonruinedmylife]

I'm the annon who asked if I can watch hawkeye without watching black widow well I binged watched today venom 2 ( I'd like to note and point out the dectetive cop wore a hearing aid too) marvel really pushing the deafness/hard of hearing in the mcu even more❤ then I watched legend of 10 rings then black widow just i time for the next 3 episodes of hawkeye where yelena is gonna probably be in so now I know what to expect she wasn't as bad as I thought she was going to be I found her kinda funny the post end clip of the women saying clints her next target I just hope they don't kill clint of tho coz that would ruin the whole hawkeye show for me especially giving that I wear hearing aids myself and I'm loving deaf/hard of hearing clint so much 🥰

Also the clint reference nat shares clintasha nods👍

Oh wow, okay, that's cool! I haven't seen Venom 2 yet (the only cinema in my town that played Marvel movies had to close. Thank you, Corona! 😡), have to wait for the Blu-Ray. I preordered it already 😉

Shang-Chi and the legend of the ten rings was beautiful. I watched it two times in a row. Morris was soooo cute!!

I hope Yelena will make her appearance soon. I really liked her in Black Widow, especially when she called Nat a poser for her 'fighting pose'. 😂

No! No, they cannot kill Clint! They just cannot! They just gave us the Clint we always deserved, the always tired human desaster who's hard of hearing, they can't just take him away!! If they kill Clint I have to get in a fucking plane and fly over to this weird country to kick their sorry butts!!

[blouisparadise]

Here are some of the amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of September. We hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) Hard Candy Dripping On Me (Til My Feet Are Wet) | Explicit | 1997 words

Louis gets fucked on a plane. That’s it.

2) Fucking Nightmares | Mature | 2151 words

Louis has a nightmare. Harry comforts him.

3) You Could Take A Lick (But It's Too Cold To Bite) | Explicit | 2469 words

“You look kinda thirsty.” Louis croons softly.

Harry leans back in his chair and tilts his head to the side. His eyes are covered by the pair of expensive shades, but Louis feels his eyes drifting down his backside as he lays on his stomach.

“Why don’t you bring me a bit of that ice cream, darling?”

Louis and Harry have fun in a summer day.

4) Interview With The Vampire  | Explicit | 4135 words

Note: The fic pairing is Louis/Robert Pattinson.

Working at an alpha magazine wasn't always easy for an omega like Louis, but he's just landed his biggest interview yet with an A list actor who has asked for Louis especially. Unfortunately, the interview is with Rob Pattinson, the biggest pain in the arse alpha on the planet.

Inspired by Rob’s interview in GQ Magazine and not actually about vampires

5) Conozco La Vida | Teen & Up | 4761 words

Note: This fic contains no explicit smut, but since it’s omega Louis, we’ve included it. 

"I have a son," he declared, there was a very thinly veiled layer of hesitation.

Harry was unaware in the direction which this conversation was heading but chose to stare at the man instead.

"He is an Omega," he dropped the pivotal piece of information.

Harry's attention was hooked now.

"He has been raised in an Omega convent all his life, he hasn't been in the presence of any Alpha who isn't his immediate family."

"I am still waiting for you to make a point."

"You could take him as an Omega."

Harry did not react, his face remaining perfectly free of betrayal of any sort of emotion and leaned back upon his chair, his leg crossed upon his knee. "You are selling your son to me?"

6) It’s Hard For Me To Go Home | Not Rated | 4890 words

Don’t call me baby again.

7) So Baby, Let's Keep It Secret | Explicit | 4638 words

“I’ll leave with you,” Harry said after a beat, sounding sure of himself.

“What!? No!, you can’t leave with me, Harry, you have a life here. You have a job and friends an-”

Harry kissed him in the middle of his rambling. “Which means nothing if I don’t have you.”

Into You Music Video AU.

8) ZOMOS | Mature | 5659 words

Is it easy to forget everything and start afresh? Is it easy being served with hateful glances and insults when all you wish for is to be loved? Is it easy to make it seem like everything is alright when in reality your world is crumbling into pieces with every breath you take?

Is it easy to be the omega who is unwanted by their alpha?

9) Your Biggest Fan | Explicit | 9075 words 

Just like everyone else, Louis has a few habits that he can’t seem to break. Guilty pleasures, rather. His nails are perpetually short because he can’t quit biting them, the bottom of his shoes scuffed from tapping his foot constantly. Sometimes his leg gets a cramp from bouncing it so often underneath his desk. That isn't too bad, he reckons, just some average teenage coping mechanisms.And also, occasionally, minor instances of theft.

10) Making A Splash | Explicit | 9557 words

“You want this?” Harry muses, fisting his cock as he drags his hand lazily up his thick length. Louis eyes the motion and nods his head absentmindedly. “You want to show everyone at this beach how much of a slut you are for Daddy’s cock?”

“M‘your slut,” Louis immediately replies, inching closer, inching closer with his eyes glued on Harry’s glistening cock, precome shining under the sun as it dribbles out his slit.

Harry grins widely and stops the movement of his hand to grip himself at the base again, pushing Louis’ head down. “Show everyone how much of a slut you are.”

11) Hung Up High in the Gallery | Mature | 14006 words

When Harry’s best friend, Louis, comes to support him at his art show, he decides they need to do some celebrating afterwards. How fast do the lines between friends and lovers get blurred ... or better, get painted?

12) My Home Is Your Body | Explicit | 15341 words

Note: The fic pairing is Louis/Henry Cavill.

He had seen who had made his senses go haywire. His ex was in the front row, five feet in front of him. He felt his eyes on him even as he mechanically made his way to the end of the runway, hoping to God he didn’t look like a maniac. Everything was a blur. He somehow managed to walk the rest of the way without falling or emoting anything. Why was he HERE? Of all places.

...where Louis is a successful omega model and the last thing he expects is his ex to become the co-partner of the new company he works for....

13) There's Nothing Like It (Nothing At All) | Explicit | 15471 words 

Note: This is a sequel to this fic.

His hands are outstretched on the mattress like he’s reaching out for something, reaching out for Harry. It makes his heart swell, almost bursting with affection and love. He only waits a bit longer before reaching over to turn off the light and pulling Louis to his chest, smiling when the omega immediately sighs in contentment, nuzzling into his skin happily.Tomorrow, he tells himself. Tomorrow, they’ll talk about it.-Or, Harry isn’t ready for things to change, and the end is just the beginning.

14) Seven Simple Words | Explicit | 15535 words

It’s not like he and Louis were a couple. No, they might have been a lot of things—best mates and colleagues with a seemingly convenient friends-with-benefits arrangement—but never a couple. It wasn’t Louis’ fault he didn’t feel the same way and couldn’t reciprocate Harry’s feelings in the way he’d wanted, the way he’d needed. Harry had allowed himself to get in too deep, his entire being aching to be loved back by the object of his affections. But in love, as in life, you don’t always get what you want.

15) Works Like A Charm | Explicit | 18061 words

Ever since Louis joined the team in fifth year, a few facts have become set in stone.

One: Louis is the best chaser in Hogwarts.

Two: Harry is the best beater in Hogwarts.

Three: They do not get along.

So it’s really unfair of Liam to think that forcing them to spend time together as Louis recovers from his injury will make them the best of friends. The last thing Louis would do is get along with that git.

16) The Way This River Runs | Explicit | 27417 words 

It’d be so easy to just open his mouth and plead with Harry, to scream I’m sorry until his voice disappears, but he can’t. Be it his pride or his ego or his insecurities, he just can’t do it. The worst part is that he knows Harry would probably forgive him.

But Louis doesn’t want phony forgiveness. He doesn’t want Harry’s soothing words and pity embrace, thinks he might just break altogether if he was offered them. He feels like he’s made of glass recently and it’s to the point where he kind of wants to tip over the edge, just to see if he’d shatter. Just to see who’d be there to pick up the pieces if he did.

17) Give Me Love | Explicit | 41041 words

Louis doesn't feel like a good omega, Harry doesn't remember how to be an alpha, and they figure it out together.

18) Falling Out Of Fashion | Explicit | 42123 words

Harry Styles has been the established face of the Grimshaw House of Design for two years. It’s a prestigious and coveted modeling contract Harry took away from once-famed supermodel Zayn Malik. With the model transition Grimshaw’s designs went from a more urban, Zayn-forward aesthetic, to a Harry-favoring flowery, flowing femininity in the Grimshaw designs for men.

So when Harry sees a dress Grimshaw made for a famous Marvel actress, “only a tease”, Nick says, of the evolving look, Harry knows Grimshaw is shifting his aesthetic.

Harry wonders if he can pull off the look.

19) Three Days In February | Explicit | 189346 words

Louis is cursed after a night out with the lads and the five have just three days to figure out what happened and how to break it before Harry and Louis both lose their sanity and maybe something more. Louis can hear everything Harry thinks and Harry isn’t sure he can keep his feelings for Louis a secret from his own mind.

Ridiculous amounts of banter and angst, a lot of Harry and Louis alone together, a healthy dose of OT5 friendship, and one very magical weekend.

20) Boss Bitch | Explicit | 386901 words

Harry had always wanted to work for this successful mafia; the mafia that everyone knew, everyone feared. Led by none other than the pahntom

"L'eue Courante", whom everyone knew existed, but had no other clues who this person could be. The only thing known was a high heel the phantom once left.

So this person had to be woman, Harry assumend. And man, was he wrong.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.