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fatesundress · 8 months

Text

⭑ life of the party. tom riddle x reader

summary. when one game is ruined, another begins.

tags. explicitly fem afab reader, smut with as minimal plot as i can physically allow myself, minors SCRAMMM, loosely implied hogwarts university au as always, flirting via mutually assured jealousy, impeccable communication skills, established relationship, the guy the reader is talking to gets annoyed she doesn’t want him but he doesn’t do anything, religious undertones that might have accidentally become overtones, party setting (background drinking & general degeneracy), probably the meanest tom i’ll ever write and i still tried making him nice because lots of heavy jealousy tropes are misogynistic icks fo me, fingering, piv, a little degradation but that's life, fawwwk the weeknd but the song this is based on is so sexy, etc

note. Me writing this: nightguard: ON, religious themes: RIFE, shame: ABOUNDING. i am so embarrassed by this. have i mentioned smut doesn’t come naturally to me? i don’t even know how i got here. i’m on heelys at the proverbial skatepark and everyone else apprenticed under tony hawk. Do you understand? ok.

word count. 4.5k

request. yes!

He is what he is. Stoic, sacred, silent and then verbose. You knew he had his fixations before you knew him at all — no one made top of every class without a shadow of obsession to contrast the glint of their excellence — but you could not anticipate how that obsession might translate when applied to a person. You’re not sure he had either.

He is what he is. The muggle world taught him religion and in it he learned only the tenor of devotion. When his fingers take your jaw, trace slow at the stripes of your thighs, steady your hips from under you and hold tight, there’s reverence in it. His kisses don’t wane with the months gone by; they soften with purpose. They rouse with hunger. His eyes don’t waver. Should a good man gaze upon his altar? Should he smile like sin when he gets on his knees?

He does.

Tom Riddle is what he is and you solemnise in equal part.

You don’t come to these things often, taken aback by the sight of the Slytherin common room in ribbons and banners tattered within the first hour of the night. Bottles glow green in the lake-light on every available surface, scattered about the place and spilled in sticky puddles.

You’re a wallflower tonight, though not for lack of options. You observe from a comfortable distance the drunken antics of new adults, free to carry their liquor in hand rather than hidden away in pockets and pillowcases. There’s something vaguely entertaining about it, intoxicating where someone else might mind their business and actually get intoxicated, but you see no harm done. Whispers fall on your ears before the rumours make their rounds, couples slink away in the darkness where someone in the crowd might not notice, and the night’s first instance of someone hurrying up the stairs in tears comes barrelling right past you. You invent a story for why to keep yourself busy.

It’s all just buzz.

Now, if you don’t come often, he certainly doesn’t.

Tonight, he has, and for reasons explicable but few, you’ve found yourselves on opposite sides of the room.

It began on the green couch by the window with a chess set spilled across the velvet — a bet you made with him upon arrival; you find wizard’s chess trite, Tom finds it feckless, but it makes for a good challenge.

What else could convince a man so perpetually controlled to pour himself a drink? And you imagine, from his perspective: what else could convince a woman so determined to outwit him?

It’s for no nefarious reason — to slight him or see him stumble — but because you love the fractions of relief that colour him, soften him, temper him. It’s because he loves you in every shade, in every pliancy, in each and every fervour. But mostly it’s because you love kindly to best him, and he loves mirthfully to best you.

So you play. The game is slow and teasing, hard to see in the ripples of the lake, and toppled over in the final moves (which you’ll insist you were winning) by the same swaying body that spills its drink down the front of your dress. And so you’re up, brushing your index finger over the corner of Tom’s sudden scowl. You whisper like a joke not to kill anyone but he’s so quick to look like he might that you consider repeating yourself with more conviction.

You poke at the spot where his jaw is tense. “I’ll be right back.”

Drying liquor from lace is a matter of precision even with magic, and this is half-gelatinous like someone raided the kitchen’s supply of jelly and steeped it in something offensively alcoholic. You utilise the clearer light of the Slytherin girl’s lavatory, wetting your dress before evaporating the water from it. There’s the matter then of transforming the stained fabric back to its original colour, and you huff in the mirror at having a game you thought you didn’t care much for ruined so close to its end.

You care about Tom, though. The omphalos of your issue resides there.

(It is fair to say most of your issues reside there.)

With only minutes gone by, the common room crowd looks doubled when you return, and though you wade through you’re pushed back like debris caught in a tide, the bodies more stubborn rubble than you. So you retreat, stand flush at the wall with your arms crossed, and wait for Tom’s eyes to land on yours. To, perhaps, open your mind and let him in, tell him exhaustedly from afar that the game is at rest and you’re ready to leave.

But even he’s hard to find in the bodies unified in breath, flux like a big set of lungs — and nothing about Tom blurs into the background.

So you wait. You wallflower. You pour yourself a drink.

The moment stretches on longer than anticipated, and after many detached observations of the room, someone else finds you instead. He’s tall, blond to Tom's inkwell black, kissed by summer sun even as autumn soothes its blister. Your gaze wavers back to him a few times though his own is uncertain for all its focus. He seems to be waiting for you to stop, perhaps for the silhouette of someone else to slip by and prove you were looking at them instead. When no one else comes, he traverses the crowd with a straightened inch of pride, stepping through new colours until he’s close enough to you that the light settles emerald-black and you can see the great chasm of his beauty up close.

His freckles are carefully dusted, his structure strong, all squarish, rugged lines and shades of August.

The chasm is not a lack of allure, per se, it’s just a lack of him. One man’s August to your adherent’s December, the intention of his warmth, a thing that does not come to him like everything else but that he makes and makes and mends when it lapses because he does not want to see you cold. The singular reward of a rarity like that.

“Hi," you say, glancing over a broad shoulder.

“Evening," he responds. He takes you in with a look of (unappreciated) appreciation. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“No, we haven’t.”

He extends a hand. “Oliver Belby.”

“Pleasure.”

You don't offer much in the way of conversation. He’ll vie for your attention regardless of how much of it you offer. So you lean against the wall where the buzz of sound prickles your hair, let him talk, let his hand come up to rest beside your head, and you find Tom.

He’s right where you left him, a new clearing in the crowd making space for your eyes to meet.

His are ice even at a distance. As if you proselytise — as if you could — kneel for another man or let one kneel before you, all of your trysts together faithless.

They aren’t. He must know they aren’t.

But you put yourself here and standing at the target of his gaze has never been marred by the severity of it.

You decide then; when one game is ruined, another begins.

In truth, you can’t deny the element of theatrics in the way Tom denies everyone but you: his soft, penitent smile, the apologetic cant of his head, how his eyes can find you in any crowd and whoever is clinging onto his every word that night will follow his gaze and deflate when they discover you at the end of it. Sometimes it’s harsh. Final. He lacks the patience of pretence.

Sometimes, the week is dull. Sometimes, the whoever is undeterred. Sometimes you’ve pushed him here.

No — You’ve never done that before. This is new.

So it’s one of those weeks, and one of those whoevers, on an anomaly you may as well have directed the encounter yourself, and Tom is half-indulgent as he forces his eyes away and you force yours to stay.

You watch him from across the room as the woman drapes herself across the arm of his chair. There's a furious blush on her cheeks even in the dark, a pretty disarray to her shoulder-length hair, skirts pleated over knees she faces toward him. She smiles and offers him a glass of something, and you know for certain Tom understands this game because he accepts it, eyes flicking back to you as he swirls the glass in contest.

To that you take an inappreciable sip of your own.

“ — Which is why no one has even attempted to kill one in decades. And capturing one is another thing entirely. My mother works with the Greeks on occasion, and the nearest she came to a den was in the twenties. If she had gone any nearer I wouldn’t be here.”

“Hm?” You look back at the man in front of you. His lips glisten with having licked them between every phrase.

“The manticores,” he says, undeterred.

“Right. Five-X beasts, aren’t they?”

“That’s what I said. I heard from one of my mother’s colleagues that — ”

The woman is whispering something in Tom’s ear, her hair on his cheek. He’s looking at you as if you had said the words. You don't shy away when Oliver leans in to whisper too. It's a strange, fractured language. Too intimate while too detached. Whispers from across the room, desire from another in the place of desire for each other. But the strangeness should not surprise you anymore. This is Tom: beautiful and wicked and the one you chose.

“ — And Nundus are worse. Deadliest creature there is — ”

She’s laughing about something, the woman. Half-reserved, she’s angled toward the party despite her leaning on his shoulder and the dissipating inches of distance.

“ — They stalk in silence. Think of the size of one, right? They’re apex predators… so commanding and still they could be in front of you one instant and gone the next.”

You engage with detached interest. “Really?”

And now Oliver barricades your view, his other hand coming to rest on your other shoulder.

“Do we have any classes together?”

You blink up at him. “No.”

“No, right,” he says, eyes darting to your lips. “I’d remember you.”

His hand comes up to cup your cheek, and you wonder if for some men one-sided discussions of class five beasts qualify as foreplay.

You place a hand on his chest, eyebrows raised and half a startled smile curled.

“You’re not going to kiss me," you inform him.

His face falls, but with it, at least, does his hand.

“Did you hear me?"

“It’s loud,” he decides suddenly. “Can we go somewhere else?”

You’re not sure you believe that.

You duck under an arm and search the crowd again. The woman is on the arm of the chair looking thoroughly dismayed, and for good reason —

Tom is gone.

Your breath is caught.

“This isn’t… You’re not going to…?”

You flash Oliver with a glare. “So you did hear me.”

He makes a pathetically sad face, and you think: it’s a wonder he made it this far when his courtship evidently hinges on the subject of his affection not listening to a word out of his mouth.

“Goodnight, Oliver,” you say tersely.

“What was that for, then?” he asks, and it comes out practically whined.

“That was talking.”

“But you’re —”

“Belby.”

He is what he is. It shouldn’t surprise you when he appears beside you all fatal rage on a quiet lead, narrowly fixed to you.

Tom’s cold is his median temperature, yes, but in moments like this it’s as much for you as his handmade warmth. He’d pluck the fingers off a boy like Oliver. The digits would string eaves like icicles.

Oliver is looking between you and Tom like something terrible has dawned on him, hands urged to his pockets to soothe the flames your unveiled ties to a man seemingly singed him with.

“Riddle — Mate, I didn’t… I didn’t know she was…”

Tom’s voice is flat, edged with something that makes his monotony sound merciful. “Pity. If only you knew as much as you talked.”

Oliver’s mouth opens and closes and opens again, but wisely he settles on silence instead of excuses, and wastes no time fleeing slowly into the crowd.

The instant he's stolen by the wave Tom's eyes are on yours and they’re molten. You move to say something but his patience was for show — he’s dragging you by the arm out of the common room and into one of the dungeon's empty classrooms without giving you the chance.

“Tom —" You start to protest, mouth twisted in a scowl. “Tom, you're being —"

He shuts the door behind you and locks it with such delicacy your breath catches at the question of how badly he's holding himself back right now.

“I'm being what?"

“You're…" It's hard to formulate an answer when he's like this. “It was a game. Don’t pretend you weren’t playing too."

Tom inches in, chest rising with angry breaths. “A game, was it? Did he know that?"

“Did she?” you hiss.

“It certainly became apparent when she was discarded so that I might retrieve you.”

“It was as apparent to Belby, judging by the way he was left gawking.”

“And with great restraint I let him. A mercy I didn’t take his eyes so he was left without the ability.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, now I understand; the problem wasn’t the game, it’s that I played it better than you.”

He looks at you for a long time before casting a silencing charm on the room.

Oh.

Oh — your heart barrels off somewhere. You’re without it for a moment, breathless in the wake of the implication of a spell like that.

“Tom," you say politically, “It was hardly a matter of rescuing.”

He nods imperceptibly. “No, it wasn’t.”

“So we’re in agreement.”

He hums a non-answer.

Each step he takes forward, you take back. It's a peculiar way to have a conversation, but part of the game, you suppose.

Interesting he’s still playing.

You still gasp when you inevitably hit the wall, hands going to the carved edge of a windowsill.

“You’re terrible when you win,” he whispers. His lips brush your ear.

You shudder, mouth dry as you press against his shoulder. “You’re worse when you lose.”

His mouth drags down your jaw but he refuses to kiss you, still withholding something, still holding back in some terrible, electrifying way. Instead one of his hands starts to dip down your side. You shiver as he grazes the skin of your breast, exposed by the cut of your dress, and continues down your waist. His mouth traces your bare shoulder as his tongue makes a slow pass, skin beneath leaping at his careful ministrations.

With long, slender fingers he's pulling your dress off button by button, torturously slow, and you feel mocked to have cleaned it earlier. You feel foolish to have left knowing the night would have ended like this regardless.

“Tom,” you say. His name is followed by staggered breaths. Your fingers are clutching the windowsill.

The air is thick as he watches you, flesh exposed by each undone catch. And still he will not kiss you, even as his lips trail along your collarbone and you start to tug instinctively at his belt. He makes the barest sound of disapproval and spins you to face the window, your hands urged on instinct to press against the glass.

“Tom...”

He hikes your dress up your thighs. It clings to your hips, a meagre two buttons left attached to keep it from falling.

Your wand clatters as his fingers work the clasp of your bra and his teeth skim your shoulder, leaving little bites he laves at softly with his tongue. You shudder, arching into him, searching for friction. His touch traverses the shape of you and stops feather-light between your legs.

“Tom —”

“Quiet," he admonishes, a little tut.

Your skin jumps at the caress of his fingers tracing deceptively timid up your thighs, like he hasn’t done this before, like it’s care and not punishment. His favourite oxymoron: the gentlest torture, the cruelest succour.

His index draws upon the lace of your underwear and tugs it aside with a tenderness that makes you gasp. Is there a way to press harder to the glass without breaking it? Is there ever enough to grab onto when he gets like this — so singularly focused on ruining you?

One of your hands latches onto the arm half-disappeared in your skirts instead, clinging steadfast to the white of its sleeve, your body swaying as if at sea. He keeps you steady, but this is his crown achievement: that he is all there is that can do it when you’re so singularly focused on being ruined by him.

The sinews of his forearm work imperceptibly under your fingers as he appreciates the newly unfettered flesh, two digits sliding between your legs, and he makes a satisfied sound against your shoulder at the wetness he finds there.

You’re swallowing air with a moan stuck in your throat; too dry, you realise, and feel like you’re choking when he starts to move, gripping his arm somehow tighter.

As a rule, you know how much he loves this, but it’s tenfold under his jealousy and you think deliriously, probably wrongly, that for how much he enjoys pushing you you enjoy pushing him to get here. You’re his and he’s yours, there’s no doubt in it — but what he can reduce you to — this desperate creature, writhing and panting, trying in vain to satiate herself with a simple finger — this is the translation; the fruition of his fixations put to a person rather than a subject. This is what it is to be his.

Tom’s mouth opens in a smile at your throat, and there it feels more like bared teeth, a smile that is as animal as it is pretty.

And still he whispers with all the affection of a lover, your name peppered between kisses.

His fingers inch inside you and curl. You’re wedged in the perfect balance of his discrepancy; your disciple and your devil. He worships you in white. He ruins you in it too.

Now his name comes out in a babble, wet, half-drooled. A nip pinches the little space beneath your ear and you clutch impossibly harder to his wrist, your free hand squeaking down the window pane as you grind on his palm. He crooks his fingers against a spot that has you seeing stars, thumb pressed to your clit in a subtle motion, and you feel yourself tip off into an unknown he aquaints you with often. In a blurry, flickering moment, the light gleams somewhere beyond the stained hues of the window. And that should be it. The edge is at your heels and you should be falling. But the sinful press of him at your back commands you to lurch against him, and when you moan for more he pulls his fingers free.

You stumble weakly into his chest, startled.

“What… What?”

“Ask me for it,” he says, his voice hoarse, markedly wanton in spite of himself. But there is hunger and there is greed. There’s a sacrificial lamb and there’s a hunted one— there’s religion and there’s Tom. He invents something that demands greater devotion.

And the sound of leather rasping serge and metal clinking metal reels your conscience in. There are no stars. There’s just him. His belt is coming undone.

“Tom.” You swallow. “I told you —”

“And I want you to ask.” He cups your jaw in his hand, thumb tracing your lower lip. “Nicely.”

Your mouth opens for him and you shiver, pressing further back for contact he doesn’t allow. Instead another small tut is whispered at your neck, relinquished to a kiss.

His finger brushes your teeth when you speak. “I want you.”

You feel him shake his head and you all but whine.

“I want you inside, Tom — need you — please.”

“Please?” he echoes mockingly.

“Please,” you say in an uneven voice, and when your tongue grazes his thumb he eases it further into your mouth with an appeased hum.

And so his zipper comes down and you hold your breath with the weight of your dress at your hips.

He pushes inside you with minimal pause, slow still, to relish the way your little pants hitch, stop, and shudder out in a broken moan; the way your breath is guided by his rhythm, how you’re shaped by him, fitted around him. You careen forward and your palms flatten on the window, trembling at the first thrust. Your fingers quiver down the glass.

Tom pulls you into him on the second, patience abandoned. His lips chase your pulse. His grip on your jaw tightens as his thumb pops free with a string of spit. He nudges deeper at a new angle, your body forced as far as it can lean back, gasping heavenward when your head falls helplessly onto his shoulder.

It’s profane. Your ears almost dull to the sound of his hips snapping against yours, the obscenity of your skin on what he offers of his, but you waver between earth and something else, brought back to him by the torturous sight of the edge he stole you from. Always brought back to him.

He’s gripping your jaw in one hand as he pushes deeper, and your fingers are lost for purchase on his forearms, trembling to hold onto something.

When he pulls out of you at your brink again, you practically cry out. But you understand when he spins you around again, hiking you up against the windowsill, your shoulders hitting the cool glass with a gasp you barely register in the fog of your desperation. His eyes are dilated to midnight rings. The weight of his desire is frightening. The insistence to claim you better yet.

He wastes no time before slamming into you again, pausing at the hilt to watch your eyebrows wrench together before resuming his pace. When your mouth falls open, he swallows the noise that tries to come out of it.

It doesn’t feel like a kiss. It feels like the prolusion to a bite.

His fervour is all the reminder of how you got here in the first place; the teeth, the force, the grip on your waist. There’s a rough sound he makes in your mouth that you taste more than you hear. The vibration of him is everywhere. You’re too hot and it only occurs to you because your fingers are clawing at fabric instead of skin that he’s fully dressed and your last button has finally snapped, lace pooled on the classroom floor as he fucks you. The thought is consigned to oblivion as quickly as it came. It doesn't matter.

You're clutching at his shoulders, the nape of his neck — trying to kiss him back, but you feel torn in two by the intensity of his ministrations, a low, immolating pressure building in your abdomen. He’s proving something with you, and his is a relentless, unending appetite. You don't really stand a chance. You think you've known that from the start.

Tom is all-consuming. Tom is a force of nature, a whirlwind that sweeps over you. He leaves you breathless and somehow needing more as he wraps his hand around the small of your back and seizes you in place.

Still you find yourself wanting to be held tighter.

“T-Tom —" you sob through the kiss but he doesn't give you enough air to do it. He pushes harder, a rasp at the back of his throat, some carnal thing. He’s not withholding your release now; he’s spurring you towards it.

When he withdraws his lips from yours, his brows are furrowed in concentration. There’s a fine lustre of sweat on his forehead, stray curls pulled across dark, wicked eyes. The sight of him alone is condemnable, but it isn’t for you.

He likes to watch you like this. When your moans dissolve to the torn syllable of his name, again and again. The veneration. Your choked litanies.

You give them to him.

Sleeves drawn up by your body’s baser instinct for skin, you’ve carved a canvas of praise into his arms, marked up to his elbows where your fingers had jerked upward to rake at his back. This time, when you find the cliffside, nothing stops you from teetering off its edge. Flames dance across your skin in an explosion, your collar damp and bitten, your waist in Tom’s vice-like grip. One hard thrust and you’re falling.

The stars are blinding. You decide then they were made by him.

Your head lulls back as shocks of pleasure course through your body, the coil snapped, the hard shape of him inside you demanding impossibly for more. You stumble through the light, vision blurred, praying and praying and praying. His grip comes to find your jaw again.

You keen, addled through the ecstasy, barely conscious of the way his panted breaths hitch at the sight of you in his hands, soft-eyed and puddy.

He always comes apart soon after you, but it happens rarely that your body is so taut on the wire of rapture that his twitching inside you takes you with him.

This time it does.

You sink against him, thighs numb and wet, one hand slipping dumbly from his figure and swiping across condensation-foggy glass. The second orgasm is an aftershock of the first. It’s slow. It feels like being caught from the last fall. You land in Tom’s arms and they’re holding you through whitened knuckles. His eyelashes flutter, ink-dipped twines of quills, and he steals the shaky sigh from your mouth by pressing it to his.

You kiss lazily and softly. The room feels sheeted in static. The electricity lingers on both of you.

It’s hard not to fall against the window when he slides out of you. You slump on quivering legs into his chest instead, heaving, spend trickling down your legs.

Tom holds you close, adjusting his trousers before sinking down to settle you on his lap. He wipes the sweat from your face and presses his lips to the feverish skin it plastered. Forehead, cheeks, nose, chin, whispers of your name down your jaw like a prayer answered. Your eyelids flutter shut and he kisses you there, too. His lashes tickle.

You love him more than you worship him. You think he likes that more.

He grabs your forsaken dress from the floor and slips it over your bare shoulders, summoning the snapped button back in place before he begins to meticulously clasp the rest together again. His mouth leaves a path at the skin under each one before it closes, and you hum in dizzy gratitude.

“That was,” you say in a very worn voice, “a terrible way to reinforce not making you jealous.”

He glares at you from one of the lowermost buttons and you giggle sleepily, curling a hand into his hair. “Don’t look at me like that. You liked it too.”

He leans back up at that, tipping your chin with his fingers, gaze darting over the wrecked state of you with a pleased gleam in his eyes. “You liked it? What a modest interpretation.”

Now it’s your turn to glare.

He is what he is — pursuit of buttons forgotten as you’re laid down on the moonlit floor to be reminded just how much you liked it.

taglist. @lyis @indimoss @poddzi @esolean @d1anna @maripositanoctruna @mentally-in-northern-italy @ronniemaximoff1234 @moobell55 @jaerang @ramayantika @saltwaterbythesea @acube07 @togenabi @adazito @kitcat334 @blaurghhh @shutupfinn @jaymeeshayden @lilu842 @leaosee @garfunkelworld @definitely-not-captain-america @multiplefandomstan @mangoesareorange [ note: inexplicably, a bunch of my tags aren't working. i tried to fix it but if you didn’t get a notif i’m sorry! ]

#tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle smut #tom marvolo riddle #voldemort #voldemort x reader #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle oneshot #tom riddle fic #tom riddle fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #wizarding world

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ddejavvu · 9 months

Note

for mvm can you do fratboy anakin ? i know he's horny absolutely all the time and i need him so bad 😭 maybe just hanging out with him and he can't keep his hands off of you ? thank you !

today is multiverse monday, send me any au you can think of! :)

lmk if anyone wants a full fic/part two to this where they actually get the dice in the mail and use them !! thank you for changing the wiring of my brain fratboy!ani is now all i think about every day - please send more anakin requests especially if they're fratboy!ani!!!!!

this post is 18+, minors dni.

It's not uncommon for Anakin to have his hand down your pants. One of them is there now, while you lay in the small twin bed of his dorm room, still where it rests sandwiched between your thighs. It's not wandering, though you're sure he'd like it to be, it's merely resting against your skin. The lace on the hem of your panties must be itching against his wrist where he's snuck his hand through both your pants and your underwear, but it never seems to matter enough for him to withdraw his hand.

He's spooning you from behind, his arm stretched over your hip to slot itself between your legs while you decompress from your day. You're online shopping, or rather, online window shopping, browsing through countless products you know you'll never buy and scoffing at the more ridiculous ones to Anakin.

His face is resting against the back of your neck where he's planting soft, sticky kisses to the skin there, and you've got your phone propped up on a pillow so that he can see the screen over your own head. You're scrolling lazily while he pampers you with affection just the same, but a glowing green picture catches both of your droopy eyes.

"Look at those," He murmurs, his breath coming in hot against your neck, "Sex dice."

They are, in fact, sex dice.

They're glow-in-the-dark cubes stamped with words like 'lick', 'suck', and 'bite' on one die, body parts listed on the other: 'tits', 'thighs', 'neck'.

You can't see all six faces of either die, but you're sure they're equally filthy. You snort as you feel his hand squeeze into the pliant flesh of your inner thigh, his lips still pressing sloppy kisses to the back of your neck.

"Ani, we don't need those. You already do all that shit, you don't need dice to tell you to do it."

"Look," He gestures to the screen again as the picture of the dice changes, displaying a shot of them in action.

"'Suck navel,'" Anakin reads in a snicker, "Babe, I've never sucked your navel before."

"Do it." You challenge him, but when he immediately pushes himself off of the mattress to dive for your stomach, you roll over onto it, "No, don't do it!"

"Come on!" He laughs, collapsing atop you where you lay on your belly on the mattress, "You told me to do it!"

"I was kidding!" You shout, muffled into the pillow, crushed by his weight, "Anakin, you're not allowed to suck my navel."

"Aw, you're no fun." He chuckles, prodding at your cheek and slipping his hand beneath it as he turns your head, offering him access to the side of your face that isn't still pressed against your pillow. He puckers your lips by squeezing at your jaw and he kisses the side of your mouth, slightly sloppy and uncoordinated.

"What about that other stuff, hm?" He asks, your face still held in his grasp while you lay beneath him on the bed. "Can I do that other stuff?"

"What other stuff?"

"'Lick thighs'," He reads off of the picture, now changed once more to show different faces of the dice, "Can I lick your thighs?"

"You can lick my thighs," You hum bashfully, hyper aware of the slight tingling beneath your stomach at the mere thought of Anakin's tongue dragging wet stripes up your legs. He grins devilishly at you, pressing one more sideways kiss to your mouth before releasing his hold on you and pushing his weight off of the mattress. He pries at your side and you turn over at his command, neck craned to watch as he slinks down to the end of the bed.

"Come here," He seems to be talking more to your lower half than to you as he drags your stretchy pajama pants down, leaving your lace-lined underwear on. He hums dramatically, stuffing his face between your pillowy thighs to muffle the sound.

"Fuck yeah," He groans, the words morphing into an open-mouthed groan as he licks a thick, sloppy stripe up your inner thigh. The tip of his tongue ghosts dangerously close to the hem of your panties around your legs, and he hears the way your breath hitches in your throat at the feeling.

"Thanks, babe." He mumbles, licking another line of saliva this time towards your hip. He hoists himself up with his arms to reach for your navel and you recoil slightly, but he catches your sides to lean down and press a firm kiss to your belly button.

"Buy those dice," He instructs you, sinking back down between your thighs to jam his tongue between them, "Use my card, I don't care. Just get them."

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rookthorne · 1 year

Text

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬

Blood was thicker than water, but no bond was stronger than the one you shared with two of the fiercest and most savage protectors that stalked the earth, and when someone dared threaten what was theirs? Even the devil himself couldn’t save them.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ➣ Bodyguard!CW!Bucky Barnes x Model!F!Reader x Bodyguard!Winter Soldier

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ➣ 5k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ➣ Fluff, angst, whump, swearing, panic attacks, gun violence, hostage situations (insults are used towards reader), tending to wounds, polyamorous and secret / forbidden relationship ➣ Protective!Bucky and Protective!Winter Soldier is an understatement, they also speak a lot of Russian

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 ➣ I had the thought of why not have two Bucky's... and yeah, I ran with it. ➣ A very special thank you goes to @sgt-seabass for her help in looking for ways I could oomph this up, and thanks to her, a certain scene made an appearance!

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒔 ➣ Deadwood by Really Slow Motion ➣ Seven Nation Army (The Glitch Mob Remix) by The White Stripes, The Glitch Mob ➣ Sweet Dreams (Slowed / Reverbed by siasme) by Eurythmics, Annie Lennox, Dave Stewart

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 ➣ @the-slumberparty's Week 3 Creator's Challenge — Masterlist ➣ @allcapsbingo ჻჻჻ 𝗕𝟱 — Model AU ჻჻჻ 𝗜𝟰 — "Not without you!" ჻჻჻ 𝗡𝟯 — Free Space — Bodyguard AU ჻჻჻ 𝗚𝟮 — Times Square ჻჻჻ 𝗢𝟭 — Vulnerability — Masterlist

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐚 𝐕𝐨𝐥𝐤𝐨𝐯 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The big show had finally arrived–after weeks and months of preparation, you were about to take your place centre stage on the catwalk for something you could have only dreamed of doing.

Having been raised in a family not sore for funds, you knew what it was like living in the lap of luxury; people waiting on hand and foot to serve you, extravagant and lavish shopping trips that would make any ordinary person’s eyes water at the total. It wasn’t necessarily a hindrance to your outlook on life — but you woke up to just how lucky you were.

You were walking down the streets of New York with your bodyguards at your father’s insistence, and you came across a family dressed in ragged clothing and begging on the sidewalk. It was like the veil had been lifted and you could see clearly for the first time, not through the rose glasses you had worn since you were a child.

It was at that very spot you had ordered one of your bodyguards to stand with the family while you ran to the closest store to buy the family some dignity, much to the faux annoyance of the bodyguard that followed close behind you.

“I think that’ll be enough,” he said, smiling when you carried an arm full of food products and toiletries to the counter. “They will appreciate it but I can’t have you buying the whole damn store, they won’t know what to do with it all.” You pouted at him and he chuckled, taking the bags of goods and offering his arm for you to take.

You could have sworn that since that moment, your two brooding followers looked at you with an unfathomable softness - a feat that you were sure was impossible from the smaller of the two, but nonetheless, it was there. Just like it was there now, the two of them stood in your dressing room with you while you got ready with an infinite number of stylists bustling around. Their reflections gave away that they were watching like wolves in wait, their teeth only baring when someone burst through the door unexpectedly.

“You two have to calm down,” you started, swivelling in your chair to face them, ignoring the way that the wardrobe crew grumbled. “You’ll have a heart attack otherwise.”

Bucky laughed, his broad shoulders shaking in apparent mirth before they abruptly stopped, his face falling deadpan. “Not a chance.”

The guard next to him, James, stared at you, his face in shadow so you only just made out the slight eyebrow raise. He might have said something, though it was lost behind the black mask he wore.

“C’mon, guys,” you whined. Nerves were making you fidget and you continued to ignore the scowling of the nail tech. “Humour me, I’m already nervous enough.”

If the room were not crowded with staff, you would have been wrapped in Bucky’s arms with soothing words, while James stood to the side and offered you a soft smile that brightened his eyes, his hand taking hold of yours.

But you weren’t alone, you were amongst people that would have no qualms about throwing you to the wolves — the head of the pack being your father, who would downright turn into a monster if he found out the arrangement you had with his two best men.

The secret had to be kept at all cost.

“You will do fine.”

You looked at James and smiled. Out of the two, James struggled the most with displaying any kind of care or outward softness — entirely opposite to his partner. Though he had his moments when he managed to soothe you in his own way. “Thank you, Jamie,” you whispered, and he nodded once, his curtain of dark hair shifting with the sudden movement.

“They won’t know what hit ‘em,” Bucky said, smiling widely and dare you say it, proudly.

“Ten minutes!” A voice called from behind the closed door, and you sighed heavily.

The makeup team did their final touches and cleared away swiftly under the piercing gaze of James, while Bucky watched the stylists move in and adjust your clothes. It was all so much - even after all the rehearsals it still felt like you were walking out there like a fawn, too weak and stumbly on heels that were too big with predators nipping at your heels. The wolves that protected you felt too far away.

“Hey, hey,” a muffled voice said, a blurred face hovered in your sight and you blinked. It was Bucky, and his voice was so low only you would hear him. “You with me, doll? ‘M here, c’mon. Deep breath for me.”

You startled and gasped sharply, the sudden expansion of your lungs making you cough.

“Are you done?” Bucky asked the room at large, his gaze focused on the styling team who nodded quickly. “Get out.”

Shoes scrambled over the linoleum floor and James’ heavy boot falls followed before a slam of the door echoed. “They’re gone,” James said simply, walking back over to stand next to Bucky. “You will do so well, kisa,” he whispered, kneeling down so he could look up at you. His hands were cold when he grabbed yours, but you squeezed them back while taking a deep breath. “And we’re so proud of you, our girl, hmm?”

Bucky’s hand rested on your shoulder as James spoke and he squeezed.

“Yeah,” you breathed, trying your hardest to stem the tide of tears so your makeup wouldn’t be ruined. “Yeah I-I will, I want you to be proud-”

“We always are, sweetheart,” Bucky interrupted. He kissed your forehead softly while James placed a hand on your thigh. “Always proud of our girl, aren’t we, James?”

“Navsegda i vechnost',” James replied.

Bucky snorted and ruffled James’ hair, who let out an indignant huff. “Such a sap.”

A loud knock at the door made the two men turn around quickly, and it opened wide enough for Tracey, your favourite assistant, to peek her head through. Bucky and James relaxed at the sight of her, and you met her eye. “You’re up next, love,” she said before looking between your wolves. “Hey James, Bucky.”

“Thanks, Tracey, I’ll be out there in a second.” Tracey nodded and shut the door softly. You stood and brushed down your outfit, sighing softly.

“You look stunning, doll,” Bucky whispered, cupping your cheek.

James nodded and his eyes brightened above the mask. “Krasivaya, moy kisa.”

You smiled widely at their attention and you started walking forward. In an instant, the soft and comforting aura was dropped, replaced by one that billowed like smoke of fierce protectiveness while they flanked you. Staff gave you a wide berth and you were relieved; you needed the space.

Bodies were flocking to and fro from the stage and amongst them, you spied Tracey standing by the stairs, clipboard in hand and a calm smile on her face amongst the chaos. “Hey,” you greeted, coming to a stop just before her. “All ready to go now, when am I on?”

Tracey glanced down at the clipboard and hummed. “Erica and Sophie need to do their thing, and then it’s you.” She glanced back up and pointedly stared at Bucky and James, who, naturally, didn’t flinch. “You boys can wait just here,” she said, pointing towards the steps. “Mind you don’t get in the way of everyone else.”

You heard James scoff and Bucky rolled his eyes. “Yes, ma’am,” Bucky said, saluting.

“Thank you.”

James and Bucky didn’t leave your side, however. They stuck like glue to you until it was your turn to make your way onto the catwalk, and always the gentlemen, they held your hands on the way up. “Can’t have you falling down. Now, go get ‘em,” Bucky said, beaming.

The stage was bright, the cameras blinding with their constant flashes. A calm settled over you and the catwalk became an extension of your being — it was time to work. People and camera men clamoured at the base of the raised platform as you strutted to the end, and you ignored them, your eyes focused on a point at the far wall.

You imagined Bucky and James waiting for you at the end at the stairs to keep your breathing even, your expression blank and calm. It worked a charm, until a loud shout rang out over the chaos.

There was a man beside you suddenly, waving a Glock and a manic glint in his eye. “There ain’t enough fuckin’ money to save you, bitch!” Cold dread flooded your stomach and then his hand grabbed your bicep hard, the grip bruising.

“Let me-”

“Let the girl go!” Bucky. He was standing on the catwalk, gun drawn, and face carved from stone. “You let her go, and I won’t shoot to kill.”

People were screaming behind you, and you winced, your vision blurring from the tears that burned your waterline. You didn’t want to die. The sudden cold bite of metal hit your temple and you whimpered — the gunman had you in his grip and he wasn’t going to let go, he wasn’t going to release you back to your wolves.

The predatory glint in Bucky’s eyes told you all you needed to know; this was it. He wasn’t looking at you and the silent tears that fell unbidden down your cheeks, he was watching the gunman with such lethal vitriol it was a wonder he didn’t drop dead on the spot.

“I said, let her go, and I won’t shoot to kill.” Bucky’s voice was low, a deep growl from the belly of the wolf. “You don’t want a third eye, do you?”

“Not until her bastard father-” You began to squirm, desperate to get away and back to Bucky and James, even though you couldn’t see the latter. “Stand still, bitch!”

You froze, and so did the world around you. The muzzle of his Glock pushed into your temple again with such force it made you grit your teeth. People were still screaming around you and there was shouting, pleas for safety and to lower weapons.

Where the fuck was James? You sobbed and looked around frantically, there was no sign of him, but Bucky had changed his stance; shoulders straight and legs spread, it was as though he was preparing to pounce.

“Get her father on the phone and maybe I won’t fuck her face up too badly,” the gunman yelled, pulling you close against his chest and wrapping the hand he had around your arm around your throat instead. “She can have an open casket, isn’t that what you want?”

He squeezed and you choked, staring wide-eyed at Bucky. Scrabbling against the man’s arms was doing nothing, but you kept trying — I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die — you begged, a continuous chant.

Bucky’s lip curled in a snarl, and he glanced at you, eyes not softening, before staring back at the gunman. A chill flew down your spine at the absolute fury in his eyes. “I warned you.”

A quiet whoosh sounded far away, the grip on your throat lessened, and a wet splatter echoed right next to your ear, followed by the loud thump of a body hitting the floor.

“DOWN!” A pair of hands grabbed both of your arms and pulled you forward into a hard, broad chest. Screams from the people echoed around you and more gunshots cracked the air.

“Oh my-” You gasped, staring down at the body that once held you like a bargaining chip. It was surreal. The person holding you ran, and you watched in shock as a pair of legs clad in tactical gear appeared beside you — James.

“Dvigat'sya!”

“What-”

“Fucking move, you bastard!” A voice ordered above you over the screaming of the gathered spectators and you realised it was Bucky — Bucky was holding you to his chest in a kind of side hold while he pushed through the crowd, gun in hand.

Someone managed amongst the fray to rush Bucky from the side and you screamed — he had a knife- “No, you fucking don’t!” Bucky roared, the hand with the gun somehow whipped up in time to roundhouse the man in the head, the crack of his skull loud enough to be heard over the chaos around you.

“Hold on, doll, you’re safe,” Bucky continued, his voice sharper than a knife in your ear. Fear spread like wildfire through your entire body and you seized up, the instinct to freeze setting in before you could comprehend his assurance. “Fuck, James, prikroy menya!”

“Idti!”

Arms swept under your knees and behind your shoulders, and you were resting against Bucky’s chest — eyes still wide with fear and confusion. People were running and scattering in their haste to get away, and gunshots still filled the air. You could see James behind Bucky with his Skorpion drawn, the muzzle flashing with each shot he took.

There was no way to make sense of what had happened — you were just on the catwalk, doing your job, your passion, and now you were in Bucky’s arms while James slaughtered the remaining gunmen with no care for taking them alive. A switch had been flicked between the two of them, and you were helplessly struck dumb with the absurdity of it all.

The night air was cold against your already goosebump stricken skin and you gasped, flinching instinctively and curling closer into Bucky’s chest. “I got you, sweetheart, hang on,” Bucky rushed. He was looking around with narrowed eyes, looking for something, when they widened. “James! There, go!” He jerked his head towards what he was searching for but James stood stock still, gun trained on the entrance of the venue.

“Go, take her and get out of here!”

Bucky growled, a snarl on his lips and you whimpered. “I will not leave you the fuck behind, get your ass in the car and drive!”

“Ty, blyad', idiot, ya skazal tebe poyti, i vot ty prosto-”

Hearing them fight was worse than a knife to the guts, and you whined, reaching a hand out to James. “Please, I-”

“You heard her,” Bucky yelled over his shoulder while he stalked to what you saw was a car, the black SUV they had driven you here in. “Popast' v chertovu mashinu.”

The cold night air vanished when Bucky placed you on the back seat. “Bucky, what happened, I-I don’t-” You tried, but you were silenced when he sat next to you and pulled you close so your head could rest on his shoulder.

“You were targeted,” Bucky explained hastily. The sound of the driver’s door slamming shut made you flinch, and the car rumbled to life. “I fucking knew something wasn’t right-”

Tires squealed against the pavement and the car jerked forward, pushing you harder against Bucky’s shoulder. “I’m sorry- Hang on,” James said loudly, and the car swerved around a corner. “Bezopasnyy dom, Bucky?”

“Da, tikhiy,” Bucky replied. “Vy videli, kto yeshche eto bylo?”

James and Bucky were still talking, but their voices were becoming muffled, and you started to breathe heavily — the tides of panic were starting to pull you under. You were attacked? Targeted? The concept would be laughable if you were in a fit state of mind, who would want to attack you, it was fucking absurd.

“Sweetheart, stay with me,” Bucky whispered and you sobbed. His hand grabbed yours and placed it over his chest against the tactical shirt. “Breathe with me, in and out.” The steady beat of Bucky’s heart grounded you and you tried pulling in a lungful of air, but it caught on a sob. “I know, I know, sweetheart, you’re alright,” he soothed, pulling you impossibly closer.

“Bol'she vragov yeye ottsa, bez somneniya,” James said, his voice still loud and you opened your eyes, not realising you had closed them. Bucky growled low in his throat at James’ statement.

“Prosto voz'mi nas tuda i bystro,” Bucky then said, his voice low and his grip tightening. “Doll, look where we are.”

You looked up from his shoulder and gasped softly. The bright lights of Times Square shone in the night and into the back seat of the car. Bucky loosened his grip slightly so you could turn and watch the lights fly by; it was no secret that you loved the the area, both James and Bucky had accompanied you on every impromptu trip, and seeing it at such a desperately fearful moment instilled a calm unlike any other — it flowed and ebbed through the panic and loosened the vice around your chest, and the warmth of Bucky’s presence only made it easier to breathe.

“Are you okay, kisa?” James asked from the front, glancing at you in the rear mirror when you met his gaze.

Nodding slowly, you glanced back out the window. Bucky pulled you close again and you followed, not willing to be far from him for long at all. “We need to do another impromptu shopping trip,” Bucky offered, his voice quiet. The sigh from behind James’ mask was almost inaudible. “What, you love seeing her light up just as much as I do, punk.”

“You are not wrong,” James replied, and the car was cloaked in darkness again, the lights of Times Square long gone.

The inside of the car was silent for a little while, filled with the occasional slight sniffle from you, and the hum of the car engine. It was broken when James turned the wheel and hissed quietly. “James?” Bucky asked, sitting ramrod straight.

“It’s nothing-” James tried, but Bucky was having none of it. The concern rolled from him in waves and you began to grow worried, too.

“Like hell it’s nothing, you idiot,” Bucky said, his voice sharp with worry. “Can you drive?” James nodded, though Bucky didn’t relax. “When we get there, I’ll sweep the place and you stay with her.”

A stormy look pinched James’ brow and his eyes darkened, and if he wasn’t wearing his mask, you knew you would have seen him scowling and gritting his teeth in frustration — he didn’t take well to being ordered around. “James,” you said softly, and he looked at you briefly in the mirror before focusing on the road again. “Please let Bucky look at the wound when we get- Where are we going?”

“Safe house,” Bucky answered.

You nodded. “Let Bucky look at you when we get there, please, for me.” It seemed to take all the effort in him, but you watched James’ shoulders sag as he nodded once.

Half an hour later, the car pulled into a home nestled deep amongst trees, the long driveway passing in a heartbeat. Bucky shifted on the seat and kissed you on the forehead. “You wait with James,” he said, then he looked towards the front. “Give me the Skorpion.”

James’ hand reached back with his favourite weapon and Bucky took it, pulling out the clip and replacing it with a fully loaded magazine. The car came to a stop, and Bucky jumped out immediately, focus entirely honed on the unassuming house.

“Come, kisa,” James said, opening the door. You followed and gasped at the cold air of the night. James’ door shut quietly and he beckoned you over. “C’mere.”

Warmth enveloped you when James pulled you close, and you shuffled closer so you were plastered to his front, soaking in the offered act of comfort like it was your last. “I was so scared,” you mumbled, tearing up again.

“I know, kisa,” James rasped. His voice was muffled by the mask and you pulled away slightly, reaching up and around to the back of his head. It came away with a click and James sighed. “Thank you.”

“I know you like wearing it, but I want to see my James now,” you whispered. James smiled and one of his hands held the back of your neck, and pulled you closer.

Footsteps sounded from the front of the house. “It’s clear. Get inside, come on.” With Bucky’s command, you grabbed James’ arm and walked forward, wincing in sympathy whenever he grimaced. “Where did you get hit?”

“My side, I think it just grazed-”

Bucky scowled. “Doll, take him straight to the bathroom, it’s the first door on the left in the hallway.” You nodded and started walking when Bucky stalked towards what looked to be the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, “You better do as you’re fucking told, punk.”

You would have rolled your eyes as James’ heavy sigh had you been in a joking mood. Exhaustion settled heavy in your mind, weighing down your body with the realisation of what had just happened.

“Stay with us, kisa,” James breathed, watching you as he entered the surprisingly large bathroom. “Don’t get stuck in that pretty head of yours.”

“Sorry-” You tried, but you were cut off by James’ lips on yours. It was a soft kiss, sweet and giving, and it had you almost weak in the knees.

James pulled away first and shook his head slightly. “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry,” he ordered gently, holding your face between his hands. “I will not have it.”

“Stop pulling moves on our girl and sit your ass down,” Bucky said suddenly, appearing in the doorway, a smirk teasing the corner of his lips. “Go on.”

With a huff, James sat on the bench in the shower, moving to take off the tactical gear when you rushed forward. “No, no, let me,” you said, fingers already moving to undo the buckles. James looked up at you with wide eyes, your urgency rendering him speechless.

Metal clinked behind you and you figured Bucky was preparing the med kit, but you didn’t rush, every move seemed to irritate James’ wound and like hell you would cause him more pain.

A few moments later, James sat on the bench shirtless with the wound in his side on full display. It was a bullet wound, though thankfully it was only a graze; like all three of you had hoped. “Alright,” Bucky said, sitting next to James and facing him with a grimace. “This will sting.”

“Hang on,” you said. The two of them watched you curiously as you darted out the room, coming back with a small stool from the kitchen you had passed by just a few moments ago. You placed it in front of James and sat down. “Come here, baby,” you whispered, and James immediately obeyed, his eyes clouded with unshed tears. Bucky watched sadly while James got comfortable, your hand on the back of his neck and your fingers in his hair so you could scratch his scalp, while the other rested against his shoulder. One of his hands rested on your knee, the other on your thigh, and he squeezed whenever a sharp breath of pain left him.

You had learnt through trial and error — mostly error — that James wouldn’t let his guard down around anyone bar the two of you, and while he was hurting… it was even harder for him to maintain that facade.

“Okay, go ahead,” you whispered, looking at Bucky who nodded once, and got to work patching the wound.

“You did well today, doll,” Bucky began, the needle in his fingers moving with precision. “Even though it all went to shit.” A subtle shift against your neck told you James was nodding his agreement.

“What happened?” You asked, still maintaining the soothing motion of scratching James’ scalp. “I was out there and all of a sudden it just… blew up. I didn’t know what the hell was happening.”

There was a pause and you watched Bucky’s expression remain carefully neutral. “I honestly don’t know who the fuck it was that attacked you tonight,” Bucky said. “You know your father isn’t exactly a saint-”

You knew that for a fact. He was a dirty CEO, probably worse, and it was why you decided to split from his ‘ideal daughter’ and pave your own way. No way did you want to be involved in dirty money.

“-And we,” Bucky gestured to James and then himself, “believe someone wanted revenge for something that he’s done, one way or another. It’s the only thing that makes sense right now, anyway.”

Silence fell while you considered his words. And then, you sighed heavily at the sudden weight of the world on your shoulders. “Well, fuck.”

Bucky snorted and continued to bandage James’ side. “My thoughts exactly.”

“Wait- How did- Who killed the man that had me-”

“James did,” Bucky answered, not meeting your eyes.

You gaped at Bucky and your hand tightened in James’ hair. “How? That was not a typical gunshot wound.”

“There has always been a case in your dressing room with one of James’ snipers,” Bucky went on to explain, eyes still trained on the wound. James was stiff in your hold, bracing himself. “The case and gun only unlock slash operate when it is his fingerprints. When you went up the stairs he doubled back and assembled it, and then hid in the rafters to watch you and the crowd. I knew he was going to take the shot,” he gestured to his ear. “Thanks to that device.”

“You what?” You asked, astonished. “There has been a sniper rifle in my fucking dressing room this entire time? How did I never see it?”

“I am good at hiding,” James whispered against your neck. “You never saw it because I was the one that hid it, the staff didn’t know.”

“What the fuck.” A quiet laugh left both James and Bucky at your surprise.

“You know we’re nothing if not thorough, doll.”

A few moments had passed when Bucky finally shifted in his seat and placed the unused supplies back in the med kit before running a hand up and down James’ back. “It’s done, you did good.”

“Thank you,” James said quietly, his voice slightly muffled by your neck. He placed a soft kiss there and then sat up, wincing from the pain.

You smiled sadly and stood from the stool.

“Wait, wait,” Bucky called, hand raised. “How’s your arm?”

“It’s fine, I think it’ll only bruise a little bit,” you assured, looking between the both of them who were staring up at you. “James stopped him just in time.”

They both looked displeased but you walked out of the bathroom. It felt like you were just going through the motions, operating on autopilot as you took the stool back into the kitchen. It was all too much. Your father, the attack, the realisation that no matter how hard you tried, the trail of sin would follow you and endanger you; maybe even for the rest of your life.

“Sweetheart?” The voice was soft and you turned to see Bucky hovering behind you, a slight frown that was the final nail in the coffin. “Oh, babydoll,” Bucky breathed, rushing forward and throwing the med kit onto the counter when you shuddered, a heart wrenching sob wracking your chest. “C’mere, I’m here.”

The sudden embrace broke the floodgates and you wailed - overwhelmed and so, so afraid. Bucky held you against his chest in a crushing grip, willing it to ground and soothe you, when James poked his head out from the bathroom. They must have shared a silent look because you felt James against your back, his bulk just as warm and comforting as Bucky’s.

“We’ve got you, kisa,” James whispered while Bucky began to rock you gently side to side. “You’re safe.”

A moment later, Bucky shifted you slightly in his arms, and James let go. You whined at the loss of contact but Bucky hushed you. “Let’s get into bed, you need your rest, and so does this punk.”

James huffed and led the way towards a closed door.

“Please lay with me, I don’t want to be alone,” you whispered, clutching Bucky’s shirt. “Please.”

“Of course we’re gonna stay, sweetheart,” Bucky offered, walking you to the bed and placing you on the edge. “We wanna hold you.”

James made a hum of agreement and moved onto the bed, kneeling behind you. “Arms up.” You did so and James pulled your shirt off, his touch lingering on your skin. Bucky made short work of your shoes, socks, and pants with minimal help from you. The weight behind you shifted and the sound of more buckles unfastening made your skin warm.

“No, not tonight,” Bucky said, reading your mind. “Just wanna hold you.”

You nodded and then James’ hand pulled you back so your back was flush with his chest. Thinking of his wound, you opened your mouth to protest when his hand rested against your stomach and he tucked his chin into the crook of your neck. “It’s fine, don’t you worry. Just relax for us.”

The bed bounced when Bucky sidled up to your front. You looked up at him, feeling safe and content while between them. “Well, hey there, sugar,” Bucky purred, smirking cheekily. “You come here often?”

You giggled and James made a quiet noise of protest. “No funny business.”

“Bite me,” Bucky retorted, looking affronted.

“I am tempted-”

“Boys,” you interrupted. Bucky stared at you and you could just feel James’ annoyance. They were so petty. “Cuddle me.” Instantly, James’ arms tightened around your middle and Bucky slung his leg over your thigh, moving so close you could rest your forehead against the juncture of his throat and you rested a hand against his chest, right over his heart.

“Didn’t have to tell us twice, sweetheart,” Bucky said, the rumble of his voice against your palm soothing.

The three of you laid in silence until a wave of exhaustion suddenly hit you, a wide yawn leaving you before you could stifle it. “Go to sleep, kisa,” James whispered, and Bucky kissed your forehead. “We’ve got you, you’re safe.”

Sleep pulled you under before you could reply, and you missed the way James and Bucky looked at you; so tenderly and with a fierce protectiveness, unmeasured and untamed. They would protect you, no matter the cost.

navsegda i vechnost' = forever and eternity krasivaya, moy kisa = beautiful, my kitten dvigat'sya! = move! prikroy menya! = cover me! idti! = go! ty, blyad', idiot, ya skazal tebe poyti, i vot ty prosto- = you fucking idiot, I told you to go and there you are- popast' v chertovu mashinu = get in the damn car bezopasnyy dom = safe house da, tikhiy = yes, the quiet one. vy videli, kto yeshche eto bylo? = did you see who else it was? bol'she vragov yeye ottsa, bez somneniya = more of her father's enemies, no doubt prosto voz'mi nas tuda i bystro. = just get us there, and fast.

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #navy and roo's sleepover #all caps bingo 2023 #rookthorne's works #TTTW

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frostbitebakery · 2 months

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Last Line Challenge

Rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you feel like).

(I’m loving that so many peeps have adopted the rules including artist heh 💜)

Tagged by @omaano and @marbled-polecat thank you both 💜💜💜

This is for Loud. - the cyberpunk aesthetics AU that follows mute Shadow!Obi-Wan around the Galaxy being a spy and falling in love with the GAR’s highest decorated clone and second in command to Master Windu.

Cody’s theme is War Of My Demons by AleXZavesa.

The last lines were actually the paint stripes so Cody is recognizable XD This is just throwing ideas at the wall how to cyberpunk the clone armor. Here’s a snip of the snippet:

“Yes.”

Cody crosses his arms, one of the cameras in his visor rotating as if in a huff. He’s standing casually but securely. Casual enough that he’s probably ready to sprint, dodge, roll, jump, dive at a microscopic moment’s notice.

“I apologize,” Obi-Wan signs, perhaps widening his eyes into an innocent expression very slightly. “I did not mean to offend.”

“You didn’t offend me,” Cody says, his lovely voice distorted with the vocoder. “You asked if all the antennas were truly necessary. I replied.”

Replied with a long, static silence followed by a single word.

Obi-Wan struggles not to smile. He inclines his head. “Very well.”

No pressure tagging (but we all know I lovingly pressure you :D): @elwenyere @adiduck @foreverchangingfandomsao3 @tired-bshocked @lttrsfrmlnrrgby @other-peoples-coats @bluemaskedkarma and @chiliger

#last line challenge #my wips #loud au #commander cody

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beetleviolet · 18 days

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@midwesternvibes 's rottmnt villain leo au will never fail to haunt my brain so, hark! I bringeth tidings of fanfic!

I was really curious what it would take to drive Leo so apart from his family, so I tried to write it in a way that from right to me. This one really challenged me, so I hope yall like it!

To be clear, I feel like this would take place like before Leo is a villain. When the possibility it just. There.

TW: child abuse/emotional abuse, panic attacks/flashbacks, crying, murder, suicidal thoughts, ptsd

The anger started- well, no. It didn't really have a definitive start or finish. A collection of moments Leo could look back on and think, maybe this was it. Maybe this is when it all began, maybe this was when it gained momentum, maybe this was the point of no return.

And again, even the single moments he could pick out always had other ones tangled around them. Leo took the fall for, well, everything. Not that his brothers never got in trouble but, well, if the dish broke it was Leo who broke it. If an argument started it was Leo who crossed the line. If the chores weren't done then it was Leo's turn, even if it wasn't everyone else said it was and Dad believed them. Looking back, it was an easy thing to blame Leo. He was already labeled trouble, what was a little more?

The trouble stuck with him like his stripes, like yeah there was a mask there but come on dude, we can both see them peeking out the edges. Leo wasn't to be trusted. Leo was easy to blame. Leo was trouble.

“Why would you do that??”

“It was one mistake, Raph!” Raph seemed too flabbergasted to speak, only gesturing at the burning building behind him. So yeah, Leo had started an eensy-teensy little fire. He'd gotten everybody out!

Leo's mistakes were big. There were few, but they were big, and no one wanted to let him forget it.

“This is just like that time you broke the TV!” Mikey giggled as he brushed the plate shards into a dust pan. At least he didn't seem mad. Leo tilted his head at him,

“Uh, you broke that.”

“Did not!” Mikey protested.

“We were playing basketball and you tried to throw it to me!”

“You didn't catch it!” Leo felt his fingers twitch, wanting to flex, maybe a tic he picked up from Donnie. Frustrated. Angry. A start.

Leo couldn't remember what happened next, really. They got interrupted by some other brotherly shenanigan. It was just. Well. Leo loved Mikey. He shouldn't be mad! You weren't supposed to get mad at the people you loved, right? Right?

“Leonardo!” Yikes, full name treatment. Leo jumped, scrambling on 7 year old legs. “You did not help Red cook dinner!?”

“Uh..” Leo peered behind the looming figure of his Dad, where Raph was half hugging a sniffling Mikey with a bandage on his finger. “..no?”

“Your brother got hurt!” Oh, that made sense. Mikey was still learning. He had been clammering Raph for a chance to help in the kitchen, that's why Leo didn't today. But he couldn't say that because Splinter had that- that look. That clenched jaw that scared Leo more than anything. Dad didn't hit them, usually, not really. Maybe a small fwip behind the head if they were very bad, a sandal thrown by if they said something out of line. It wasn't that, really. Dad didn't like to do that, sometimes he even apologized for it. Usually to Donnie and Mikey, but whatever. But it wasn't that.

It was more the glaring, the teasing, the yelling, oh when Dad yelled at him Leo could do nothing but shake. It was his brothers watching. It was his brothers watching when it was Mikey who had thrown that basketball so it hit the TV, the TV Donnie was fixing as Dad screamed. Leo shook, he set his jaw and blinked and he didn't cry, he didn't cry. Leo wouldn't start crying. He didn't start. A start.

Once, when April came over after a fun mission, she did this announcer thing, where she gave everyone an intro as they entered the room. Leo was up to go last. Turned out he wouldn't go at all. And them everyone went to bed.

It overshadowed those little papers Leo kept in the drawer of his bedside. Notes and doodles and things his brothers had said to him, happy things. Like the time Donnie said he loved Leo, not “I love you guys”, he said “I love you”, just to Leo. The time Mikey made his favorite pizza because he was sad. A big hug from Raph, paper airplanes with good messages from April. That bedside table got crushed when the lair was, well, shredded, and Leo sat on his knees, seiza, picking up as many as he could before his brothers caught up.

“Come on, Leo.”

“Gimme a second.” He heard Raph shift impatiently,

“You're taking so long.”

“Can't rush perfection.” He could feel Raph's eye roll.

“You know bein’ down here makes Don upset.” Sure, this was about Donnie. Leo shoved a few more into his pouch.

“It's not a party for me either.”

“This isn't about you!” Raph snapped, and Leo felt like a scrap of paper as he trembled in the wind. That was the first time Raph had said it to him. The first time. The start.

On one of those scraps of paper was a time when his Dad lectured him, and Leo shook and he didn't cry and Dad sort of faded out and watched him. Leo stared at the floor next to Dad's feet, waiting to be told to bring his eyes up, waiting for the, “Look at me when I'm talking to you!”, but it didn't come. Dad just. Looked at him. Looked at him for longer than he might have ever before. Splinter never looked at him when Leo was talking. Or when he wasn't, really. Not really.

“...go to your room.” He said, and Leo just about ran. In his room, he was allowed to cry. Well, there was no rule against crying, not one written or said, but Leo could feel the pressure when he did it, eyes and expectations on his skin, and so he didn't cry. Except now he started to. Now he sobbed. He jumped at the knock at the door. He'd never heard that knock before. Mikey did the one from Frozen, knock knock kno-knock knock!, and Raph would bang twice, Knock! Knock!, and Donnie did morse code, something different every time. This was a simple knock, a tentative, knock knock knock against the door frame. Leo didn't answer, maybe couldn't. The curtain rippled as Splinter entered. He had a plate in his hand. He watched as Leo scrubbed his eyes before placing the plate, a plate of fruit, on the bedside. Then again, he watched. Stared.

Leo wanted a hug.

It wouldn't fix anything, and there was something inside of himself screaming, no! He didn't need it! He wouldn't mean it anyway! And maybe he wouldn't. But soft fur, warmth around him, a gentle hand against the dip of his shell. Splinter had this lullaby he would sing to a fussy Mikey, a sick Donnie, a sleepy Raph on the couch. Leo wanted to hear it. He wanted it so bad.

He and Splinter stared at each other. And then his father left the room. Leo ate the fruit. Oranges and strawberries.

He didn't write all of that. He wrote, “Dad cut fruit for me.” And that was all. That was all.

And then

And then there was the Krang.

Leo was a lot of things. He was a hero, he was a martyr, he was a brother, he was a son, he was dead, maybe, somewhere, and he was hurting and he was trouble.

His family loved him. They opened that portal for him, so they loved him. But Mikey loved Draxum too, because he was family. So yeah, his family loved him. They wouldn't be the same without him. But did they like him?

Dad avoided him for a while. So did Raph. They were mad at him, Leo thought, for starting this whole mess. Mikey was a whole mess. He cried a lot, happy and sad, and Donnie sat on the medbay chair, not spinning like he usually did, just sitting. No one would give Leo a straight answer about anything. Eggshells. Sometimes, everything got too much and darkness closed in and Leo lost control. Raph would help, when that happened, but when that happened Leo wasn't Leo, he was just scared and he didn't think, he only flinched away from the red and green above him. Raph started to cry. They all looked at him. Leo looked back. He couldn't speak. They looked away. A start, or maybe a finish, because Leo hadn't expected anything more.

Dad sang that lullaby to him.

That he didn't see coming. He was alone, still in the medbay, still still still, and his thoughts were pulling at his skin and dragging him down. Leo couldn't move. He couldn't speak. He couldn't talk. Small, clawed feet padded closer. Leo shook.

Stroking fingers on his forehead, a quiet hum, smooth Japanese, and Leo got everything he had been asking for.

It wasn't enough for him to calm down, no, not nearly, so after a while, a blessed, blessed while, Dad left, and Donnie appeared. He counted his breaths orderly, fingers flexing because he wanted to leave and get back to work. He was anxious. Leo couldn't help but catch it, his breathing ok but he couldn't stop shaking. Donnie didn't know what to do. He asked something and Leo nodded and then they left him alone. His breath began to catch. A beginning, a start. An end.

All alone. It was funny, how he felt that phrase with his whole soul. There was no one for miles. His chest was an empty bell. Leo swung his legs over the edge of the skyscraper. It was funny, when he tried to die, they didn't leave him alone for days.

It wasn't that he wanted to, it was just.

He wanted to know what they'd think, just a little. Maybe this could finally prove that they need him, just a bit. But Leo was all alone.

He shook it off. He was 16 years old, and he didn't want to die. He was 16 years old, and he had to start for home now if he wanted to get back before anyone noticed he left. Had to start for home. He had to start.

So naturally he sat right there and stared at the skyline.

They sent April after him, when he kept missing calls. He watched the text messages roll in, telling him that breakfast was ready, that they had training in an hour, that he better be back by tonight for patrol. That he was worrying them. His heart rate was steady, according to Donnie, but he was worrying them.

April was dropped off by a Genius Built something or other, Leo didn't turn around to check. She stepped forward and, oddly enough, stayed quiet as she sat next to him. She watched the city with him, rustling and bustling below, and then she bumped their shoulders together, arm against arm, and Leo was shaking and and and

He couldn't cry. He couldn't start. April pressed warm against his arm and she stayed there until his breaths were even, his face still dry.

He might have written that down on a scrap of paper, if he did that anymore. Maybe he should start, he thought, laying staring staring at the ceiling. His room was sound proof, but he could feel them talking about him. That was the only reason he was still alone. Probably. Maybe. It was just.

It was just.

Leo felt everything. It was like 16 years of feelings had all slammed together into a knotted mess in his chest. There was probably some logic to that, if he were to ask Mikey about it. Something about the connection between recent traumatic events and coping skills. He didn't care. Leo just curled up on his bed and imagined he was drifting. He imagined he was somewhere else.

When Leo was little, when he was trouble, more then usual, he would imagine he was a scrappy kid on a forgotten planet with lore only he knew. He pick pocketed Jupiter Jim, which was bad, but Jim saw he was just hungry and desperate and decided to take him with them. Red Fox was hesitant, but by the end of their adventure she trusted him completely. Which sucked because Leo was a spy for the planet leader the whole time. What was he supposed to do? There was something about Leo that was just fundamentally different then Red Fox and Jim. Why fight that?

But whenever Leo got that far he started getting tired, so he mentally skipped his redemption arc and right to the dramatic moment, where he was told everything would be ok. And 7 year old Leo fell asleep imagining he was held.

He stopped when he got older, well aware that self-insert JJ fanfiction, however G rated it may be, was still pretty weird. Leo was pretty weird. Yeah, his whole family was, but Leo was different from them, another category, walls and subway tracks between them.

It all came down to Leo wanting to be as close to his family as possible, but never actually succeeding. So he just ran away.

Maybe he could just. Run away.

It would be easy enough, right? With his portal swords and everything.

Run away. A fresh start.

Leo stared at the wall. He had some money from picking up shifts at Run of the Mill, but knowing his family he couldn't just go back there, so he would have to find a different job. Donnie had access to the whole city at the press of a button, so he would have to move out of New York. Maybe somewhere in the Hidden City, out of his families reach. Maybe-

Knock knock knock.

Tentative. He knew that knock.

“Blue? Your brothers say it is time for your patrol.” Right, that. What was he doing, getting all wrapped up in maybes? He wasn't running away. This was just a phase, he just had to wait out all of his tangled emotions and then everything would go back to how it used to.

“Coming!” He called, tieing on his mask. He straightened it in the mirror, pulling it a little wider to hide more of his stripes. His phone was dead, so he left it charging by his bed, snatched up his katanas and stepping into the hall.

Raph was mad-worried, Leo could smell it, literally and figuratively. April must have told him something. Leo would have to balance on his tightrope of being obnoxious enough to not cause worry, but not too much, or he would earn a lecture for missing the training he himself had scheduled. There may be a couple snide comments eitherway, but Leo would smile from his spot 50 feet in the air, dancing, daring.

But before he could leave, his father had looked at him.

“Have a good time, Blue,” He said. And then, “I love you.”

Oh.

Leo could have gone through at least 300 different memories, at least 600, at least 1000. Every moment of wanting and wishing and now he was here. And now.

Leo looked at his Dad, at Splinter. He looked at the super-star turned rat, celebrity turned father, and he just.

“Bye, Dad.” Leo said, and he didn't cry. He turned on his heel and he walked.

…it felt kind of good that he was the one walking this time. A kind of good he didn't want to think about.

—

Hypno and Warren.

Months ago, that wouldn't have sent a shudder up his spine. Months ago, that wouldn't make the room go cold and his heart started to thud. But months ago, Hypno and Warren hadn't made the biggest mistakes of their lives. And months ago, the simmering mass, the start in Leo's chest wasn't hell bent on proving it.

His brothers did their usual banter, if a little strained from nerves, but the two villains were as mediocre as ever.

The three of them kept trying to catch his eye, concerned because Leo wasn't talking. He didn't really know why. You'd think they'd like it better this way. Even Warren was making comments. Why should he have to pretend around them, anyway? Joke and smile to what, make them feel better? Leo loved his family, he loved them with all of his heart, but his chest was on fire and today he just. He couldn't.

And then Mikey went down.

It was just a sprained ankle. Just a sprained ankle. But Mikey yelped in pain and his eyes shone and he was about to start crying. About to start. Raph's eyes went white. Donnie bared his teeth. And Leo.

Leo.

He didn't really think about it too hard. Not really. He just opened a portal. Just a small one, right around Hypnos torso. He spoke, voice a little stilted, a little to the left,

“Will you grow back too?” Hypno looked at him with round eyes. Warren began to stutter, something high and pleading, but Leo couldn't hear.

“Let him go!” Raph commanded. Why did he care? These were the ones who started it all, who stole the key in the first place, who was Raph to protect them? Leo's brother had the worst kind of savior complex.

“Nardo, what are you doing?” Donnie asked. He already knew, he asked anyway. Wasn't he supposed to be the logical one? Emotional bad-boy? What a joke.

Hypno would cause nothing but danger for his family. Nothing but trouble. Why did they care?

“Leo.” Mikey said, soft. He met Leo's gaze, fierce, “Let him go, please. I'm alright.” Oh.

Oh no, no, what was he doing?

“Step out.” He whispered. Hypno scrambled away. Leo let the portal snap close.

Oh no, no no no no.

What was he

“Leo?”

Hate him. He had to go. Had to start.

Leo slashed in front of himself, stepping through without a second thought.

Maybe he should have just

No, no, don't think like that.

Maybe

Leo stumbled, landing heavily on the ground. He pressed his palms into the pavement, cement leaving indents into his skin, cold and damp. Grit coated itself on his knees, tremors working through them in waves.

No, no, no.

Maybe

He should have

Stop.

But he couldn't slow his thoughts, ringing through his bones like a bell.

He should have done it.

Maybe this was the point of no return, the end, it was over. Regret curling in his gut, a photo in his pocket that he didn't spare a glance. It hitched in his chest, and Leo felt his face grow hot. Burning eyes, burning burning, tears.

A start.

#villain leo au #rottmnt villain leo au #rottmnt leonardo #rottmnt leo #save rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #rottmnt fanfiction #rottmnt fanfic #rottmnt #rottmnt raph #rottmnt raphael #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt splinter #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt april

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makeitmingi · 10 months

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Cause Baby You’re My Muse [Chapter 6]

Genre: Romance, Idol!AU, Music, Slight angst

Pairing: Mingi x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Producer!Reader, IdolLyricist!Mingi, IdolProducer!Hongjoong, Idol!Seonghwa, Idol!Yunho, Idol!Wooyoung, Idol!San, Idol!Yeosang, Idol!Jongho, cameo(s) by other celebrities

Summary: You always preferred producing underground, having an unknown face and governed by your own rules. But when you start freelancing for idol groups, you say goodbye to your lone wolf lifestyle as you learn to work with idol producers and lyricists.

Word count: 3.1K

There was a skip in your step as you approached KQ Entertainment today. In today’s work, you were going to record the guide vocals for a few of your tracks. You entered the building and waited for the lift. When it reached the producing floor, you stepped out.

“Thanks, Maddox hyun-” Hongjoong, who was exiting Maddox’s studio stopped in his tracks. You froze too, eyes scanning him.

“I wore it first!” You were quick to blurt it out. You and Hongjoong were basically wearing the same outfit; black ripped jeans, a striped turtle neck inside and a red leather jacket over.

“No, I wore it first. You copied me.” Hongjoong scoffed, stepping closer to inspect your outfit.

“Is this the same jacket? Cause I got mine at the corner shop in Insadong.”

“Corner shop in Insadong.” The both of you said at the same time. You both burst out laughing, what were the odds that you were wearing the same outfit and the accent piece was from the exact same shop.

“Joong, you left your- Woah.” Maddox stopped, seeing the two of you. He handed Hongjoong’s notebook over to him.

“You guys should take a picture.” He laughed. You were fine with the photo, knowing that Hongjoong wouldn’t post it online, so you handed your phone over to Maddox. You stood next to Hongjoong and Maddox took the picture. He did the same on Hongjoong’s phone, just that Hongjoong wanted you to have matching poses.

“No copying me next time, understand? It’s good to be original.” Hongjoong put a hand on your head, shaking it lightly with a baby-like teasing tone. You frowned, glaring at him. You slapped his hands away.

“Excuse you, you copied me. I know I’m cool but stop trying to copy my style.” You slapped his arm.

“Yah, you can’t hit your elders.” Hongjoong scolded.

“Yes, I can! Watch!” You reached over to flick his forehead. His eyes widened in outrage as he threw his entire body weight over you, putting his arms around you as you squirmed.

“Ack!” You choked. You broke free and ran down the hallway, making him chase you. The both of you burst out laughing.

“Mingi! Help me! Protect me! Hide me!” Seeing the tall boy emerge from the lift, you ducked behind him and held him in front of you.

“W-What’s going on? Indigo?” Mingi was utterly confused as to why you were using him as a human shield against his captain. Hongjoong tried to reach for you and you both ended up running around Mingi.

“Hyung, you told us not to bully Indigo. You can’t do the same.” Mingi decided to help you against the captain. Being so much taller, he was able to help you block Hongjoong off. Since you couldn’t stick your tongue out at him, you shot him a peace sign, having successfully turned Mingi against him.

“Mingi, you’re my favourite.” You hooked arms with him. You didn’t realise your actions made Mingi flustered.

“As happy as I am to hear that I am your favourite, I don’t want Wooyoung to know that and kill me.” Mingi chuckled sheepishly, covering his red ears.

“It’s a secret then.” You giggled and Mingi nodded his head. Hongjoong stared at the two of you, rolling his eyes. He couldn’t believe his own team member, a brother, would betray him.

“I’ll happily tell him that he isn’t your favourite.” Hongjoong scoffed and you squinted your eyes at him, mentally challenging him.

“I just realised that you’re dressed the same.” Mingi pointed out, looking at you and the captain.

“He copied me. Then when I called him out, he got upset, that’s why he started chasing me.” You explained with a disapproving shake of your head. Mingi nodded slowly, understanding your words.

“You are such a liar.” Hongjoong stuck his tongue out at you.

“Don’t listen to him, let’s go Mingi.” With your chin up, you marched away with Mingi, leaving Hongjoong behind.

“Wait, go where?” Mingi scratched his head, still a little lost. As you led him away, he turned and waved to Hongjoong, who scoffed. You ignored his question and walked with him until your studio. You keyed in your passcode and finally entered the room. Mingi stood in the hallway, unsure of whether you wanted to invite him in or not.

“You can come in if you’d like.” You chuckled, realising he was standing there in the hallway awkwardly. Safe to say, you have grown very comfortable with the boys. There was no need for you to tiptoe or be wary of them.

Like Hongjoong said, they were harmless 5 year olds.

“You seem very happy today.” Mingi noted. Not that you were broody all the time, but he noticed your happier demeanour.

“Oh, I’m recording some guide vocals today for some tracks so I’m rather excited. It’s a break from the more technical producing and mixing.” You explained to him, turning on your system.

“But don’t you have to edit later?”

“Shush, let me have my moment. Don’t go crushing my little pockets of happiness.” You held a hand up to him to silence him.

“Actually... are you free later today? Do you want to help me record the rap for my guide? San is coming in soon to help with some vocals.” You turned to him with a sparkle in your eye. Mingi took his phone out, scrolling for a bit.

“I’ll be free after lunch.” He informed.

“Great! I’ll see you then. I’ll send you what we’re working with for you to practice. And don’t worry about the lyrics, it’s just a guide.” You eye smiled at him.

“Okay, I’ll see you later, I guess.” Mingi smiled and waved back before exiting your studio. Once the door closed, you put your headphones on and became serious as you did your work. It was a good laugh that you had with Hongjoong this morning but now it was time to focus.

“Ah, ah. Testing.” You spoke into the mic as you set up in the recording studio. You’ve never worked in this recording studio before.

You didn’t have a nice enough voice to record the track but you did record your own vocals to send to San for him to practice. After much contemplation, San’s voice was the best to fit this part compared to Jongho’s.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

“Come in.” You replied.

“Hello.” San smiled with a bow as he entered. You looked up from your screen and waved to him.

“I brought you coffee. Oh, and a cookie. I hope chocolate chip is fine.” San slid into the seat next to you, putting the tray of coffee down. He took your coffee out and place the bag with the cookie next to it.

“Thank you, San. I needed this. And thank you for doing this for me.” You giggled and took a sip of the coffee.

“No problem at all. It’s always fun to be in the recording studio.” He had a kind smile.

“Okay, so before we begin, do you have any questions for me? This is just guide vocal recording so I’m sure you know that the lyrics don’t matter. I’m more concerned about matching the pace and tempo, getting a feel for it. See if the song can come together cohesively or whether there needs to be any changes to it.” You asked him.

“Actually, I have one question. Your voice in the sample you sent me was good, Indigo. Why don’t you use your own vocals?” He tilted his head.

“No, I don’t think my voice is very good. Plus, I have this thing about hearing my own voice, I’m not a fan of it. I think your voice is better and suits this piece better.” You laughed.

“Well, thank you for choosing me.” He put a hand on his heart.

“We can start whenever you’re ready.” You told him. He stood up and went to the recording booth, putting the headphones on.

“Can you hear me?” You spoke into the mic.

“Yes. Loud and clear.” He gave a thumbs up, adjusting the volume on the panel. You waited for him to do some vocal warm ups then he took his phone out to refer to whatever notes he took.

“We will start with the bridge and chorus first.” You told him. San, just like the Ateez members, was very hardworking and focused right from the get go. Even if this was just guide vocal recording, you could tell that he was giving it his all, as if this was a real recording.

“Playing back.” You said and played the recording for both and him to listen to. San took some notes on his phone.

“Can I record the chorus part again? I think I should change the tempo for the last two lines.” San spoke into his own mic.

“Sure. Cue yourself in with the bridge.” You instructed, playing his recording of the bridge to him. He had his phone in one hand to refer to his lyrics and notes. You bobbed your head along.

“Good job. Playing back.” You played the track for him. From the look on his face, you could tell he was so much more satisfied with the re-recorded part.

“Who is doing the rap part?” San asked.

“Mingi said he can come in and do it for me later.” You informed. The rest of the guide was recorded in parts, making it easier for you and San to make edits and adjustments when necessary.

“There’s a pause there, so no need to rush into it. Wait for the guitar to pick up again before starting.” You said.

“Okay, I’ll go again.” San nodded.

“Okay, nice. Let’s have a break. Thank you for your hardwork.” You spoke. San nodded and bowed, putting the headphone back on the stand. He appeared at the door again, taking a seat beside you to sip his coffee. He curiously peered at your computer screen, watching you arrange and adjust the vocal pieces together with the instrumental.

“Wow, this is cool. Actually, I’ve never really recorded guide vocals before. Hongjoong hyung produces with Edenary and they do the guide vocals since he can sing and rap.” San explained.

“I used to record my own guide to send out but I really don’t like it. That’s why I asked if you and Mingi would be interested in helping me.” You said.

“Anytime I’m free, I’ll help you. I’m having fun and I get to learn about this whole process too.” He grinned.

“Do you think this is an Ateez song?” San asked.

“You never know. I just have these pieces and if I think they fit the concept, I’ll submit them in. Whether the company decides to choose them is out of my hands.” You said and he nodded in agreement.

Before moving on, you and San chatted, sharing a little bit about yourselves. San was also kind and patient enough to tell you things about Ateez, as well as answer any questions that you had when you were researching.

“So, the Wanteez episode where you guys drank...” You started, eyes not moving away from your computer screen.

“Ah... What about that?” His voice slightly squeaked at the end of his question, making you snicker.

“Was it real? Like you guys were really drunk?” You asked.

“Yes, it was real. I don’t remember much from what happened in the episode, only when we re-watched it then we knew how it all went down. Plus, we watched the uncut version from the editors so it was a lot worse. But I do have to say I hold my alcohol a lot better than what was portrayed.” He defended.

“You were very cute during the yelling game. I agree that Wooyoung was mean in yelling to the point where you fell off the chair.” You laughed and turned your head to see him bury his face in his hands.

“I’m never doing that again. And I hate the yelling game or rather, I think I just hate people yelling at me. It’s scary.” He pouted.

“I’ll make sure no one yells at you if I’m ever there.” You promised.

“Thanks.” He blushed.

“Besides your adorable singing and snacking in the photobooth, Hongjoong wanting to go into the chair to go home was the highlight. He is such a dork.” You couldn’t contain your laughter as you remembered the scene.

“We don’t hold our liquor very well... Yunho and Jongho would be the best, I think. I can’t remember.” He scratched his head.

“Wooyoung seemed to be okay.”

“He either giggles a lot or gets angry or switch between the two. I’m sure you saw the episode where we all got colonoscopies and how his anger unleashed.” San said and you nodded your head.

“Who knew it was possible for you guys to be more chaotic than you are now? All you need to do is add some alcohol.” You scoffed.

“Or he could get touchy. Like how he kissed Yunho.” San added.

As you continued to get to know more about San, you realised that his tough appearance and powerful dance moves were just one aspect of him. He is actually sensitive, gentle and has one of the biggest hearts you’ve ever met. You could tell that he cares a lot about people, which softens your heart. You found his sulking pout very cute too.

“Thanks again for coming in. Have a nice day.” After the recording was all done, you bowed to San gratefully. You were going to part ways for him to go for his schedule. San reached out to hug you.

“Call me anytime. It was fun.” He laughed. You nodded, wrapping your arms around him, patting his back.

“Bye.” He waved and left while you went back to your studio.

“What should I eat?” You scrolled on your phone, looking for a place to get lunch from. Since you wanted to work and eat at the same time, you got some chinese food, which wouldn’t be too messy.

*DING DONG*

“Delivery.” You heard the deliveryman outside your studio door, the doorman must have let him in this time to give the food directly.

“Thank you.” You picked up your order and brought it into the studio as the deliveryman left. You ordered fried rice with black bean sauce and a small portion sweet & sour pork.

“Alright, where were we?” With your bowl in one hand, you sat at your desk and began to arrange the guide vocals. While San was recording, you had made notes of changes you wanted to make to the instrumental so you applied those changes and layered the vocals over.

“Better...” You nodded your head as you played back the track. While listening, you ate a spoonful of food.

When you were done with your food, you bagged up the trash and took it out, not wanting the food smell to linger for too long. You even sprayed air freshner in the studio afterwards.

“Hey.” Mingi appeared at your door just as you were coming back from using the bathroom.

“Come in. You’re early.” You chuckled, keying in the passcode.

“Yeah, my schedule ended early.” He rubbed the back of his neck. Since you were still editing, Mingi sat down on your couch to wait for you. He quietly looked around the decor of your studio. It was very minimalistic.

“Just let me finish this up real quick and we’ll start. Sorry.” You turned to bow your head.

“No worries, I’m early anyway. Please take you time.” Mingi smiled. He watched you put your headphones on and begin working. You bobbed your head gently, hand tapping against the desk.

“Tch, this isn’t it either...” You mumbled to yourself with a shake of your head. Then you lifted your head to look at the big monitor and began clicking with your mouse to move things around. Mingi usually watched the other producers and Hongjoong do this but seeing you do it was somehow mesmerising to him. You were so focused and in the zone.

“Okay, I’m done. Let’s go to the recording studio.” You stood up, stretching yours arms. Mingi nodded and waited for you to gather your laptop before walking to the same recording studio you used with San earlier.

“How was recording with San?” Mingi asked.

“It was good, a productive session. We managed to do quite a bit. You all are very hardworking.” You giggled.

“We have to be when our captain is such a perfectionist.” Mingi chuckled as he held the lift door open for you to enter. You walked in with a greatful bow of your head.

“But I think there’s passion and appreciation for the craft too. San was able to pick up corrections before I could and wanted to re-record parts he thought he could improve on, which is commendable.” You explained.

“Plus, he helped me learn some things about Ateez.” You added with a laugh.

“O-Oh? Like what?” Mingi grew a little nervous, wondering just how much San told you about them.

“Like how people call you Princess Mingi, especially Yunho.” You teased. Mingi immediately grew flustered, opening his mouth to defend himself but no coherent words seemed to form.

“T-That...”

“Relax, I’m just teasing. I teased San plenty too, especially with the drunk Wanteez episode. He turned to red when I brought up what happened. And if it is any consolation, I think you’d make a great princess.” You snickered. Mingi knew you were just teasing him but his cheeks burned.

“Anyway, I’m looking forward to recording this with you.” You told him as you entered the recording studio with him. Mingi watched you set up your computer and sat down in the seat San had.

“That’s a lot of pressure...” Mingi gulped.

“No, don’t be pressured. This is just a guide recording so like I said this morning, lyrics don’t matter. Just have fun with it.” You eye smiled at him.

“I just tried to follow the tempo and speed mainly, the words are gibberish.” Mingi scrolled on his phone.

“That’s fine. Don’t worry, Mingi. You’ve got this.” You tiptoed and patted his shoulder. Your soft, encouraging tone and pat on the shoulder seemed to melt all of Mingi’s anxiousness aaway.

“Alright.” Mingi nodded and went into the recording booth.

“Can you hear me?” You spoke into the mic once he had the headphones on. He gave you a thumbs up.

“Ready when you are.” You told him. From your side of the glass, you watched Mingi mouth and run through the lyrics and notes that he had on his phone. He took a deep breath before turning to you and nodding as the cue to start the track.

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asingleietsist · 11 months

Text

"A Green Queen" AU

Chapter III

The sun began to peak its face through the green hills. The citizens of the Mushroom kingdom were setting up their shops and food carts as they greeted each other at the start of a new day.

The Princess was up early, she wanted to get a bit of peace before tending to the problems and concerns of her citizens.

Peach headed down the hall, hesitantly moving forward as she heard a loud clang come from behind a set of large doors. She slowly pushed it open, only to see a silhouette in the quiet, dark room. "Mario?", She whispered.

She flicked the lights on to see a bulletin board full of photos pinned with red lines. Horror struck here face, it soon turned into annoyance as she saw a swaying Mario. He was crouched on the floor mumbling to himself as his body rocked back and forth.

"He's really gone. I figured out Bowser's flight patterns and if I just work out a way to infiltrate his castle, maybe I can see him? I've even made a Koopa disguised!"

Peach plopped down next to him and lifted his chin. "You need to sleep. I get you're worried but-"

"You don't... We've been apart a few times, but a year is different. Even with school, we stuck together. To have the first time we've ever separated for a YEAR and with that tyrant?! I don't even know where to begin with what that stupid Koopa has planned."

Mario stood up and looked at the bulletin board. A sigh left his lips as he began to mumble to himself.

Peach got up and brushed herself off, "You think I don't, but I do... I know how it feels to not be around someone who you care deeply for, but I can reassure you, if your brother decided to go with Bowser of all creatures.. he's braver than you give him credit for.."

"I'm not saying-"

"Would you have gone if the proposal was for you?"

"No, but-"

"Would you have looked for a solution that didn't require three armies?"

Mario opened his mouth to speak then dejectedly looked down, thinking, as his stroked his stache. "Ok... You may have a point there."

"Mhm.", She smiled. "You've been up all night thinking on how to rescue your brother, you haven't even considered that if he needed it, he'll call."

The small plumber turned back to the board and sighed, "then we just sit and wait?.."

"We'll see him at the end of the month, that was the agreement after all. I also made sure he knew that if he wanted to come back at any time, he could.", She answered. "Now, let's start the day. You really need to shave that stubble."

"Yeah... Yeah, I honestly don't know how it grew overnight, truly..", he pondered.

The two made their way out of the room. Mario giving one more glance at the board before closing the door.

'I'm sorry, Princess. But I just need to check on him..'

He pulled out a small picture of a desert land with a sphinx looming in the side of the frame.

Luigi groaned, sweat dripping down his temple as he tossed a bit in bed. The sling restricted his movement, but he gasped awake once an alarm he'd set up from last night began to blare in his ears.

He looked around while taking deep breaths. He was aware he wasn't in his room, but still gazed at it in shock.

Once he calmed down, he slowly reached over with his left hand and stopped the clock. A yawn left his lungs as he recollected all of what happened last night. Looking down at his arm, he cursed under his breath and swiftly moved the covers off of himself.

A set of clothes were left on his nightstand, next to his clock, and he rolled his eyes to the obvious seal stitched onto the shirt.

'He doesn't even wear his own mark, why do I have to- No, calm down Luigi! Just one issue at a time here..'

He would have to deal with it later. Instead, he went over to an unpacked suitcase and began to get a simple green button up shirt, some jeans and his long striped socks. Before heading to his bathroom he grabbed a towel he forgot to grab and some shampoo he didn't put in the cabinet.

Trying to hold everything in one arm was only half the challenge, he now had to figure out how to shower and change his sling without injury.

Words Bowser said before started flooding into his head.

"And if you had just listened, you wouldn't be needing that sling!"

'Sure, blame ME for wanting some space!'

Luigi's frustration grew as he closed his bathroom door and turned on the shower head. Despite him coming into the castle in his Peach disguise, he hadn't seen any bathrooms his size before. He set up the bottles and toothbrush cup as orderly as he could while letting the water run to a temperature he felt wasn't going to burn his skin.

He took a deep breath and started to remove his shirt with his free hand. Lifting and turning to get every bit of his body out of the clothing someone had dressed him in. A shiver trailed as he realized he was undressed and dressed without permission.

'Not now, let's not think about that now!', he thought. His body began shaking a bit, but halted once he finally freed himself from the shirt.

Looking in the mirror, he smiled a bit. The scars near his ribs had faded a bit more and like clockwork, a bit of stubble was growing in.

Getting the rest of it off was simple enough, and as he finished undressing, he stepped into the shower.

The King was in his throne room delegating with a clawful of his captains. He was signing some documents for new dark land residents and grumbled at some of the testimonies. Kamek entered the room, rather cheerfully.

"The Prince and his siblings are eating his breakfast, your highness. They've decided they'd like to sleep at the castle once we arrive and are in quite the destructive spirit this morning.", He hummed.

"Good, we'll be there shortly. Make sure they don't ruin the dining room once we get there. I don't want to see apple pie and steak all over the castle walls again."

"Y-Yes, your highness.."

"Where is the Queen?"

Kamek gulped. He was hoping to avoid talking about Luigi for a few more minutes, but it seemed the King wasn't holding back.

"He's still in his chamber, your highness. Would you like him to stay there?"

"No, have him eat after the children finish. When he's done eating, bring him to the discussion room. Since he wants to be involved, so badly, might as well put some pressure up his stupid as-"

A clash erupted from the large doors swinging open. In bounded Bowser Jr and Ludwig, who panted a bit while trying to stop him.

"Papa!"

"Junior?! Ludwig? What a-are you-"

"Kamek said you got a queen!", He roared excitedly. "Does that mean that Princess said yes?! I knew it!"

His tail was wagging as Ludwig tried to hush him, "Hey! He said not to tell!", He whispered.

But the little prince wasn't listening and stumped Ludwig's muzzle causing him to grumble a bit. "It's true, right?!"

Bowser sighed and nervously gave a smile, "Well... It's a bit complicated, Junior.."

"What?"

"Well you see...", Bowser started. He gestured a bit to Kamek for assistance.

"Uhm, the Queen might not be... What you expect, your highness. We can talk about it once we reach the castle.", Kamek answered.

The small Koopa grunted and stomped, "No! I want to see my new momma!"

Bowser sighed and glared at Kamek, he slowly lifted himself from his throne and headed down the stairs.

Ludwig puffed his chest up a bit but Bowser brought the two closer as he leveled with the kids. "You'll meet the Queen after you and your siblings get ready to leave for your stay at the castle. And Junior, it isn't the Princess, but I promise to explain everything when we land. Ok?"

Junior huffed, resting over Bowser's arm, defeated. "Fine.."

"And Ludwig, make sure he doesn't burn anything..."

"Already on it!", He nodded holding up his staff.

"Good!"

Bowser smiled and for a moment, two purred as they leaned their foreheads against the King's, Junior still wearing a scowl on his face.

"I promise we'll discuss this later.", He smiled. "Now get going. That's an order.."

Ludwig huffed a bit as he gently pushed himself and Bowser Jr towards the door. The two waved goodbye and muffled chatter faded as they headed out.

The King's smile faded away as his head quickly turned towards Kamek, enraged.

"You told the kids?!"

"T-They wondered why you had arrived so late! Lemmy suggested a cuddle pile in your quarters, but-"

"And you couldn't have told them anything else?"

"Sorry, your highness.."

Bowser rumbled, but let his anger subside. "Fine. But get the Queen ready. He can take his breakfast with him to the discussion room. He wants to be involved so badly, it's time he proves it."

Kamek nodded and sped off down the hall on his broomstick to get Luigi.

The co-plumber had gotten ready and felt refreshed after the long shower. He was drying his hair with his free hand near the end of the bed, and was trying to figure out how he'd get his shirt on.

His stomach grumbled for his attention and as he rubbed it a knock came from the door.

"May I come in, your majesty?"

"N-Not ye-", he paused. "Actually yes! It's all right."

Kamek creaked the door open, " Ah! It's good to know you're already getting dressed."

"Yeah.. I need some help getting this shirt on though. Do you think you could.."

"Say no more, your highness!" Kamek proclaimed proudly. As he levitated the shirt, his eyebrow was raised in curiosity, "pardon my intrusion, but these aren't the clothes the King picked out for you. It's quite nice, but as his Queen you should.."

"...I'm not HIS. I'm just THE Queen and if that's the case, then I think wearing my shirt should be fine.", Luigi retorted. He made a failed attempt to fold his arms.

"Right....", the MagiKoopa noted. "If your majesty wishes, I guess I can't retort.". He finished as he warped the shirt onto Luigi's body and went to get the aid kit he'd left in the room.

"As for today, you'll be eating breakfast with the King while going over recent rebellions in a meeting with the captain and general of the Koopa army. The Captain is quite violent and his General is just as much. He's pretty loyal too."

Luigi gulped and stood up, "I feel underdressed now.."

"Which is why I set out clothes for you, your majesty.", Kamek scolded. "We have time to get you changed!"

He thought about it a bit, but shook his head. "I-I think I'll be fine. Just in case though..". He reached for his cape that was resting on the handle of his bed frame, "I'll put this on.."

Kamek gave him a good look at and sighed, 'Oh please, great stars let this not be a mistake!'

In front of a large golden crested door, Luigi stood quivering. He could barely keep his plate of pancakes, eggs, and bacon still that Kamek had to take it in fear of wasting a good meal.

"Anytime now, your majesty..."

"W-What if this is just like last night? I called him an ass! H-He was acting like one, but maybe he hasn't calmed down? I'm not equipped for this? Could we maybe reschedule?! O-Or maybe-"

Kamek looked over at him with an annoyed expression, "Your majesty, I understand your.. concerns, but you bravely spoke your peace yesterday despite the.. repercussions. Not even his bravest soldiers dare talk back to the King without execut-"

"Execution?! I CURSED AT HIM! I COULD BE-".

Luigi was about to pass out.

"No, no! Nothing of the sort. You forget that what you have is something no soldier can compare with."

"Seeing how fast I can get out of here...?"

".....No, you're The Queen, your majesty..."

He already knew this fact, but still could believe it'd be any use to a tyrant. Many queens from his world were executed, whether it was their fault or not. The Kings always held the power and he refused to end up with his head on a pike.

Kamek opened the doors, not before handing Luigi back his plate. Once opened, a surge of light came through causing Luigi's eyes to wince from the exposure. His vision cleared and he gazed at the round table, the same Koopa emblem preserved in the marble, and sharp blacked stone claws digging into its surface. At the head sat the King with two Koopas on each side of him, their attention placed on the duo that were standing there.

Bowser looked unimpressed, his eyelids lowered as he gave Luigi an examination and grunted seeing the casual wear.

"Kind of you to finally join us, your highness." Said the one eyed Koopa.

Luigi nodded in response as he made his way over to a small chair next to Bowser. His footsteps and squeaky heels echoed with each step.

Bowser glanced down at him and took a breath before continuing to speak, "So you say there has been an outbreak in the city?"

"Yes your greatness, several of my soldiers have reported on the citizens disdain for the announcement of the new Queen. They're worried that the brother of Mario will doom your kingdom.", he explained.

"A few have even begun calling you a failed King on account that word got out about the wedding incident... We've captured several of the protestors, but they've begun organizing crimes and rallies, your grace.", The General ranted his fist slamming the table.

Kamek had taken his side by the King while Luigi was eating while his arm was shaking. He felt responsible for all of it and knew how hard change was. A pit sank in his stomach knowing how those expressing their concerns would be executed or tortured and he tried his hardest not to imagine or verbalize their screams of pain in his head.

The King could sense his discomfort, "Hmm... Well, with the damages to several properties, the terrorizing of my citizens, and conspiring against the crown... It would be suitable to punish those who don't agree with my decision. Wouldn't you say so, Luigi?"

Luigi gulped, he was both shocked and infuriated by his response. He knew Bowser was pushing another button in him and was starting to crack. A small smile started to form on his face, "No."

"No?"

"No", he repeated. "I don't think they should be punished for voicing their concerns. They have no idea who I am."

Bowser raised an eyebrow and pressed on, "Wouldn't that make you furious? It would be better to squash any doubt in your leadership."

"Of course that works for someone like you.."

"And what's THAT supposed to mean?!",Bowser snarled.

Luigi smirked, enjoying the upper hand. "A brute will act brutish, you haven't even considered giving your citizens closure on me being a new leader to them."

"I- uhm-", his jaw opened. The Captain looked a bit uneasy.

"I'm not finished.", He noted. "You only prove them right by imprisoning those telling you of how stupid of a choice it was to make your ENEMY an equal. But what do I know, I'm just your prisoner."

Luigi closed his eyes and did a one-sided shrug before lifting the fork to his mouth. The room stayed stunned as Bowser tried to find the words to respond. His Captain and General started to rethink their strategy before Bowser spoke.

".... Y-You.. Ugh!"

"Should we... Torture them.. or-"

Bowser sighed, he could feel a headache growing as he tried to think this over. He hadn't thought further on the situation and wanted to simply stop it before anything got out of hand, but realized only now that his decision was the cause of all of this.

"No! Not yet at least, give me a day to think about this. We will relocate the prisoners to the castle cells once we reach there. I'll make my decision once my meetings in Sarasaland are over. Get the chains ready for their departure and station your guards at each cell. Two guards to a prisoner."

"Yes, your highness!", The two nervously stated.

"Leave us be... You too, Kamek.."

"O-Of course.", He answered. The MagiKoopa gave Luigi a pat on the shoulder before heading out with the others.

"Are you trying to make a fool out of me?"

Luigi only gulped at the worried expression on his face and didn't dare look up from his plate. His chewing slowed as he tried to retain his confidence.

The doors slowly clasped closed.

Bowser slowly turned to the man, he had a claw on the table and lowered his head, almost two inches away from Luigi's ear.

His heated breath could be felt trickling the Queen's neck, "No, you do that enough for yourself.. Both last night and just now."

Bowser snarled as his claws scrapped the resin surface, long marks being made on the table. "It was you and your brother's plan that ruined my rep!"

"Someone with BRAINS would've seen that me in a dress wasn't your damned bride! For fuck's sake, I wore a MASK!", Luigi retorted. He stood up as he spoke, which caused the Koopa to slowly move his head back once he did. "Maybe get those eyes checked."

Bowser grumbled, "Oh yeah!? Well- fuck you!-"

'I was excited to finally be happy for once!'

"-You and your brother always pull some FUCKING trick to get YOUR way. You're both just as inconsiderate as I am!"

Luigi's mouth gaped open and he poked at the King's snout, "My brother is nothing like you! He is the most considerate and understanding guy I know!-"

'If I were as half the man as he is...'

"-You don't even!" Luigi paused. "You know what, no. I'm not going to go back and forth with you. What do you want?"

Bowser blinked. He was so ready to fire back at him, he'd forgotten what started the argument. Why was he fighting with someone beneath his authority.

"I...". His head lowered in defeat. He sighed and sat up again. "I.. wanted to know if you'd really want to give cLosURre to my kingdom. I, hadn't thought about...ugh."

Luigi looked at him confused by his confession, "You didn't think anyone would have a problem with it?"

"That's not it. I just, didn't... Actually that's exactly it..."

He rolled his eyes at the large Koopa as he ate more of the bacon. "I'd like to... It's only fair, since I'm their Queen now."

"Right..".

The two sat in the realization for a moment. The quiet deafened the room as the clinking from the fork and plate kept the silence from setting in.

"This is the first time you've had a civil conversation with me.", He noted.

"Don't get used to it, this was only the start of your duties."

"Sure", he chewed. "As if you'll let me do anything..."

"I gave you the opportunity to make a decision and all you did was question my choices! How can I let you do anything??"

"You ASKED for my opinion, not a decision. You had already thought of one, I merely gave my input on it.", He scoffed finishing up his eggs.

Bowser mumbled and mimicked him, but for some reason his tail was swaying. "That's enough out of you."

Standing up, he took Luigi's plate, "Get back to your chambers."

"I can handle the plate-"

"I heard you shuffling with it in your puny hand from outside. You could barely hold Lemmy with it."

'Lemmy?..'

"And whose fault is that?!"

"Will you let it go already!! WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?! IT'LL FUCKING HEAL!"

Luigi flinched and took a deep breath, "Say your sorry and mean it."

"Mean it?", the Koopa snorted.

"Yes, say you're sorry for hurting me!"

"You expect me to surrender to-"

"Nevermind... I just want to lay down."

"This isn't on the level of some battle! JUST-", Luigi sat down, exhausted from screaming. His free hand covering his eyes and he sighed. It felt like arguing with his niece all over again and he didn't want to over exert himself.

Bowser gaped his mouth to say something else, but clenched it and nodded. "The soldiers will take you back."

"Yeah, yeah."

Through the corridor, Luigi was followed quite closely by two guards, stopping here and there to check out portraits hung on the walls. As he stepped into his room and shut the door, he plopped on his uninjured side and winced at the pain from the sudden jolt.

'All I wanted was..'

He didn't dare finish that thought, he knew what he wanted, but shouldn't have expected it from a dragon wannabe. He flopped onto his back, so he could brace himself upwards and started to the window. Looking out, he could see a few huts on some wetlands and noticed the drastic transition from soil to soot.

Bowser placed the plate in the sink and started to wash it. The Koopa beside him glanced up at him nervously, already working on a heavy load of dishes.

He didn't say anything, but he could tell his presence made them nervous, "You."

"M-Me, your highness?"

"No, the ceiling."

"Oh! Ok."

Bowser groaned, "Of course I meant you!"

"Sorry, your highness!", They squeaked.

"Ugh... Look, did you treat the Queen last night?"

The Koopa perked up, "Yes! H-He was a bit nervous about drinking the soup, but I-"

"I didn't ask for all of the details."

"Sorry.."

"Good. Now, did he.. seem like a fit ruler to you?"

The dish-washer slowly lowered their sponge and plate, thinking. "He.. didn't NOT seem like one."

"Hm... And did he ever yell any orders? Demand anything? What do you think of him as a Queen?"

The Koopa was stunned, eyes widened and was slowly inched away from the King in fear of the wrong answer.

"Well?", Bowser sneered.

"U-Um... He didn't yell, I think his orders were in reason... He asked me to taste the soup for poison. I'm not sure if h-he'll be a good Queen since I don't know what he's done for the kingdom yet..B-But as long as he keeps your kingdom strong. It should be fine?"

Bowser put the plate down and grabbed the Koopa with his claw. They yelled and quivered as he raised them up to his eye level.

"Are you saying he'd take my place?!"

"N-No! Not at all your highness! I-Im just saying you could use him to your advantage! He'll know.. um. Oh! About plans of attack against your kingdom o-or possibly the location of another superstar?!", They squeaked as their head was slowly retracting.

Bowser thought about it and grinned, he dropped the help and stomped off.

'And with him visiting home every month.. I could use the plans of the Mushroom kingdom to once and for all, crush Mario and take Peach! I'll have a proper wedding and Queen at my side!'

He chuckled at the thought and headed to his throne room.

The ship started to descend and near the entrance, the Koopa kids were excitedly ready to rampage through the castle and fill their rooms with treasures from their journey. Ludwig was carrying a few scrolls as Morton picked one up as it dropped.

"Why so many? Kamek said we didn't have to study spells this month.", He questioned. The kids turned their attention to him.

"I thought I'd help out more by digging into advanced magic! I want to take down that pesky plumber.", Ludwig answered. He placed what he had into his sack and took the one he dropped from his brother.

"I see no point in it, Bowser said we shouldn't interfere until-", Wendy noted.

"Until we're ready!", The group chimed in unison.

"It's never stopped us yet! Heck, even the Prince terrorized his first village before he was ready!", Roy added slickly.

"I could test out new explosives too!", Iggy popped in.

"Eh, I doubt-"

"KIDS!"

All of them looked at the stomping Koopa approaching, Kamek flying in tow. "You better not be planning on doing anything this time. Right?"

"Right..." Larry winked.

"I'm serious, the Queen is staying in the castle with you all, so I don't want trouble this time."

"What?! So Kamek wasn't lying?!"

"Ooh! Is she pretty?! Finally, another lady in the castle! Maybe we can-"

"Heeey! What's wrong with males?!"

Bowser sighed as the kids bickered, he roared for their attention and they flinched. "Look, you can ask him all the questions you want, I don't care. But no shenanigans, got it?"

"Yes sir!"

Morton stuck his tongue out at Wendy when Bowser mentioned a 'him' and she rolled her eyes.

"Shut it!", She whispered

Luigi made his way down the hall, panting a bit as he realized he wasn't able to pack everything so quickly. A few shirts began slipping out of the suitcases the guards were carrying. One had flown behind to pick up and catch what was slipping.

When he reached the group, he was out of breath.

"Took you long enough..", Bowser grumbled.

"If you didn't give me less than an HOUR to pack, I wouldn't need to rush!", He retorted between breaths.

The Koopalings and Junior just stared at Luigi, as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. They looked at Bowser and erupted in questions.

"Him!? Are you kidding?!"

"Why is he wearing a polo and jean- jeggings?! I'm appalled!"

"He doesn't even have a shell!"

"He's that weak?! Look at his arm!"

Roy just glared at him and shook his head. Luigi shivered and just lowered his head in embarrassment.

"You've gotta be kidding me! Even my smallest attack would knock him off his feet!"

"QUIET! One at a time!", Bowser growled. "I said I'll explain this in the castle, now hop to it!"

The kids grumbled and complained as they walked in with their luggage carried behind them. Luigi blinked and felt relieved that this gave him some time to collect his thoughts.

"So... Kids?", He started. "How many times have you-"

"what?...NO I DIDN'T-"

The Koopalings all went into their separate chambers and started unpacking. Junior on the other hand, had other ideas.

He scampered into his clown car, huffing a bit as he fell in and flew off into the halls. He wanted to understand why his dad chose someone like Luigi to be the Queen. He always boasted about the beautiful and infamous Princess, so what made the little plumber so special.

"I'm leaving."

"ok?", Luigi looked at him confused. He already knew Bowser was on his way, but wasn't sure why the scaly guy was watching him unpack.

"I'm REALLY leaving you here.", He repeated.

"Mhm."

"I don't know when I'll be back! It could take days!", Bowser exclaimed.

Luigi put his shirt in the dresser and turned his head to Bowser slowly, "And?.. You made it clear I'm staying.."

"Right..", the King grunted with a grin. "Good to know you're finally listening."

Luigi just stood there, he gestured to him his eyes squinting and the finger tips of his free hand touching. His mouth gaped as he was unable to understand the beast's persistence.

Junior flew by but backed up once he heard murmurs coming from down the hall. His father's tail laid outside the door and as he began to get closer he finally heard the slight embarrassment coming from the King.

"Are you asking me to go with you?"

"No! But since you're SO persistent about it!"

"I mentioned it ONCE"

"Look, Greenie. I get it. If you're too scared to ask about it in my presence then that's understandable. You are quite weak, but I'll consider your involvement in my duties."

"I...I DIDN'T EVEN ASK!"

Junior gasped and busted in, falling out of the car as it crashed into the bed and exploded into flames.

Luigi ducked and flew back as best he could to avoid the blast. Meanwhile Junior tucked into his shell and rolled over by his father's feet from the backlash. He popped out ready to defend his dad when he looked up to see his father glaring at him, his brows furrowed.

"Junior.... How many times do I have to tell you.. TO NOT USE THE CAR TO BUST THROUGH DOORS!", he roared. "ONLY THE WALLS GOSH DAMNIT!"

"He was yelling at you!! I wanna make sure he doesn't do it again!"

"He- go to the living area! Wait there with your siblings!"

"But dad!"

"NOW!"

Junior grumbled, "NO!"

Luigi was checking his arm, it was still sore, but the pain wasn't as intense. He coughed from the debris and stood up, looking at the two arguing.

"Great... Now there's two..", he muttered. "HEY!"

Both paused and snapped their jaws shut to stare at Luigi.

"U-Uhm.. my bed is.... Anyways, could we please get that taken care of? I don't want to hear you two bickering for the rest of the morning."

"You can't tell Papa what to do!", Junior huffed.

"I'll send someone to fix it.."

"WHAT?! BUT PAPA!"

"NO, GO TO THE LIVING AREA. NOW!"

"HMPH!"

Junior stomped off, not before sticking his tongue out at Luigi and pulling up his mask. Bowser watched him go and could see Junior wiping a tear away as he headed down the hall. He sighed then turned his attention to the flaming bed.

"If you want my advice-"

"Shut it and follow me."

"Right..", Luigi sighed.

'Not even gonna ask if I'm ok'

The two started down the corridor. Luigi, now making pace with the base of Bowser's tail.

"Oh, and is your arm healed yet?"

"what?.."

"You heard me."

Luigi looked at it, "Yeah, it's doing ok now."

"Good.. because you'll probably break the other one."

"WHY YOU-"

In the living area, the Koopalings were all waiting around on the cushioned furniture. A few blanket slings and egg chairs kept them entertained.

Junior stepped into the room and their attentions were raised as he wiped away another tear.

Roy spun over to him, got on one knee and asked him what happened. "Papa yelled at me! All because I was trying to stop the stupid human from yelling at him!"

"Did you crash the clown car again?", Lemmy asked.

"No!"

He raised an eyebrow at him, "Really?"

"Well..."

Roy smiled, "Nice one, lil Prince."

Before Junior could reply, Bowser walked in and looked at the room. The Koopalings gave him their attention as he smiled from it.

"Wait, where's Larry?"

"On your shell."

"...... LARRY!"

"Hehehe!", the little one slid down and ran back to his blanket swing.

"Now, I know you're all wondering about the Queen. But I can assure you, it's not what you believe it to be.", Bowser began. "There were some... Complications during the wedding ceremony and due to the mix up, Greenie here is the temporary Queen for a year."

Ludwig raised an eyebrow, "So he's still Queen.."

"Yes, but he's only this as a punishment! It's not permanent."

"Why not just imprison him for a year?"

"Yeah!", Morton agreed. "Torture him then patch him up again! Then torture him some more!"

The plumber tensed up and began to shiver from the thought of the kids using his body as a punching bag. He looked up at the King for any sign of mercy.

Bowser raised his brows, his eyes filled with pride in their persistent blood lust. He cleared his throat, "I've already injured his arm as a warning if he is defiant. Additionally, if we tortured him, his brother and the Mushroom Kingdom would begin a siege. Even though we could easily overpower them, we... Need to preserve resources."

Luigi let out a sigh of relief, but was still shocked by Bowser's growing smile.

Junior looked at him directly, "I don't like him! He can't be Queen! Divorce him!"

"Who taught you that?"

"Wendy said that's what couples do! Divorce him!"

"Junior.."

Bowser picked up the tiny Prince, a look of worry on his face. "Look at it this way, if I keep the small, feeble, weak human-"

"Hey!"

"-Then we could taunt Mario and torture him. You can even send a letter saying we fractured his arm."

"Really?!", The young Koopa exclaimed excitedly.

Bowser nodded.

"I'll go get my crayons!"

Luigi tried to jump in, "I don't think that's a good idea!"

"No one asked!", Ludwig noted.

"Now, you can get your crayons but you have to say you'll let the prisoner stay the Queen. No more talk of a divorce! From ANY of you.", His head slowly turned to Wendy.

She looked a bit unamused as she filed her claws, "Right."

"ok!", Junior agreed. He hopped down and ran over to Larry, who was already coloring on some paper.

Bowser looked satisfied with the outcome, but Luigi was just standing there baffled by his solution.

"You do realize my brother will have your skull if he sends that?"

"I'd like to see him try, shrimpie.", Bowser turned to leave. "I'm heading out children! Don't kill too many Troopa while I'm gone."

"Okay!", A few said in unison.

"No promises!"

"Greenie, you're coming back onto the ship."

"What?!"

"Your bed is damaged and I...uh.. don't have other rooms in the castle."

"You can't be serious.", Luigi replied, unable to believe him.

"Unless you want to sleep in my chambers...", Bowser murmured.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing! Get over here now!"

"Fine, geez! Would it hurt you to say please?!", Luigi scolded as he hurriedly rushed over to the stomping Koopa. "Prick."

"Shortie."

"IM ABOVE THE AVERAGE HEIGHT FOR HUMANS!"

"Sure you are. Keep dreaming, little Queen."

"I hate you..", Luigi grumbled.

"I hate you more."

#a green queen bowuigi fanfic #a green queen #bowuigi #bowser x luigi #bowser #luigi #super mario bros #super mario #smb #bowuigi fanfiction

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bonefall · 1 year

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BB!Tigerheart -> Heartstar

For @noisycitrine and @halogenwarrior who wanted more info on the most woman ever.

[Image ID: An AU version of Tigerheart from Warrior Cats, now named Heartstar. She is a small, lithe russet-brown tabby with a long tail and bright golden stripes. She has a two-colored mane, raptor claws, and oval 'glasses'. There is a bright golden 'heart' on her chest.]

FUN FACT did you know that Canon ShadowClan had 7 male leaders in a row, from Houndstar to the modern arc? I said no. Girl Tigerheart be upon ye.

Names are sacred and carry immense weight in Clan Culture. When a cat is about to become a leader and would have a name conflict with an unfaded ancestor, StarClan renames them. Heartstar was particularly special.

She returned to the Lake after bringing back the love of her life, Dovewing, and died in a raid to take back ShadowClan kits from the Kin's remnants. Tigerheart's father, Rowanstar, couldn't bear to lose his last child. He declared her his deputy, and plunged into the Moonpool with her body.

He drowned the last of his lives away, so that she could live. StarClan itself was awed by this sacrifice, and performed a miracle. Heartstar burst from the water sputtering, ready to rebuild ShadowClan anew.

As a leader, Heartstar is back and ready for the controversy. She watched her Clan fall apart twice, once from Dark Forest meddling and a god's games, and again from Onestar refusing to lend aid during a yellowcough epidemic, and has vowed to never let that happen again.

She's ferociously protective of her family, supporters, and clanmates, in that order, and is not afraid to gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss if she thinks she's doing the right thing.

Clanmew Name: Gaorbabun, Babishai (Tiger + Heartbeating, Heart will Beat + Star)

Alignment: ShadowClan, brief periods as ThunderClan and SkyClan

Relationships: Mate - Dovewing Children (adopted) - Lightleap, Shadowsight, Birchkit, Rowankit Parents - Tawnypelt, Rowanstar Siblings - Dawnpelt, Flametail Nespring - Strikestone, Sleekwhisker, Juniperclaw Mentor - Marshwing

Below the cut is trivia first, then all the changes to the character arc-by-arc, up to OotS, AVoS, and Heartstar's Rise.

Trivia!

Rowanclaw is now the son of Brokenstar along with Littlecloud! They were honor-sired for Newtspeck.

They have a distinct bi-colored mane from their mother, and 'glasses' from their father.

Tigerclaw's family trait is being brown tabbies with raptor claws.

Heartstar got all of the traits because she deserves it

I also miss how she was once described as having 'gold' in an older description so compromise; golden stripes.

I feel like you can't just miraculously resurrect without some kind of cool physical change, so, Heartstar gets to have a raised heart-shaped keloid scar on her chest.

She didn't sire any of her kittens; Light and Shadow were Bumblestripe's, and Strikestone's death left two more behind. It's free baby.

Heartstar fights in perfect tandem with Dovewing. Heartstar is so small that she can leap freely around and under her, skilled enough to never trip her up.

Their favorite tactic is for Dovewing to grapple with a huge opponent, allowing Heartstar to pop like a weasel from up between her legs to viciously attack the opponent's belly.

Tigerheart was the smallest member of the Tigerkin family, by far. In a lineup of record-setting Clan giants, Heartstar is barely larger than an apprentice.

She is much smaller than her entire family. Pocket pikachu.

Heartstar's favorite food is crayfish. She likes how most Clans are unsettled by this, Reedclaw was unbothered.

BB!OotS

Change NUMBER ONE is that Tigerpaw is the only survivor of Tawnypelt's second litter, born during the Cruel Season that saw the rise of Bramblestar.

A tom-kit initially named Goldenkit, the other kits in the litter died to illness. Before her last child died, Tawnypelt angrily challenged StarClan by renaming the survivor Tigerkit.

"Go on, take a tiger into the stars so it can bite your faces off. No? Thought so."

Dawnpelt and Flametail were their cool older siblings, Tigerkit especially idolized Dawnpelt and her quick sass.

The rowdy and troublesome kit was assigned to Marshwing, the cat that Brackenfur saved from an eagle during the Great Journey, now one of ShadowClan's finest warriors.

Marshwing's mentor was Oakfur, who liked to joke that whenever Marsh wanted to admit defeat he'd take the little twerp instead.

Tigerpaw met Dovepaw on the journey to unblock the southern river.

During this time, Dovepaw made her realize that she was definitely not a boy and probably also a lesbian.

This was to Rowanclaw's soft amusement when she returned home, as he is also transgender and figured it out after going on a long journey

"Maybe if we send you out again you'll come back with another one"

Dove and Tiger were fast friends after this eye-opening trip. Dove's perspective expanded to include the other Clans and the death of Rippletail made her realize how much they matter.

Tiger's perspective expanded to, "I do whatever i want because I want to see Dovewing"

Unfortunately for them, tensions between ThunderClan and ShadowClan were beginning to sour. Blackstar and Russetfur were not fond of the new management style of Bramblestar and his aggressive deputy, Thornclaw, both of which had recently taken power shortly before Tigerheart was born.

Unknown to Bramblestar, Thornclaw was training in the Dark Forest, and trying to encourage him to act more aggressively than Firestar.

Tigerpaw started training in the Dark Forest through her good friend Redpaw, who was brought in through his mentor Applefur. Applefur was the sister of Marshwing.

Her paternal grandfather was Brokenstar, and her maternal grandfather was the infamous Tigerstar. If Tawnypelt had given her this name to ward away StarClan and protect her death... then surely there was a power to gain from him?

Tigerstar took a shine to his granddaughter immediately, introducing her to his dead son, Hawkfrost.

It was very surprising to not find Brokenstar in the Place of No Stars, but Runningnose was there to... "explain" is not the right word, more like, "cryptically leave breadcrumbs of answers"

Tigerpaw was often pitted against Ivypaw in particular, as if their mentors considered them rivals. It fostered a resentment between them, especially as Dovewing began to speak highly of Tigerheart.

Tigerheart remained a supporting character, someone that Dovewing was able to talk to for a different perspective from her father Lionblaze and sister Ivypool, until near the end of the arc during a fateful battle

Attacking ShadowClan for control of a contested berry patch, Russetfur was killed, and Blackstar was devastated.

A troublemaking calico creature slid into his good graces. Sol, God of Chaos and Games, convinced him to abandon his leadership.

In the scramble, Redwillow, Ratscar, and Applefur took control of ShadowClan, and started enforcing their own rules. Tigerheart was more cunning than them, and realized they were not going to be able to keep power.

She was threading a thin needle, not openly supporting her fellow Dark Forest trainees, and she knew it.

When they were thrown out of power by Rowanclaw rallying Blackstar to return to power, Tigerstar punished them harshly in the Dark Forest and praised Tigerheart for her foresight.

Shortly after, Flametail had figured out the plot. Redwillow, Ratscar, and Applefur were freakishly strong and Thornclaw was encouraging Bramblestar not to help. They were all in cahoots!

The Dark Forest used their powers to kill him so he'd be silent, ice cracked by demonic meddling.

Tigerheart didn't know if she was going to be able to save his soul, but she had to try. Once again, Tigerstar had ignored the warning sign to preserve his family, calling off the execution.

In that moment, it proved to Hawkfrost that he was undeniably playing favorites. It wasn't about the plan. It wasn't about breaking out of the Dark Forest. It was all another project for Tigerstar's ego... and he was not valued like his bloodline through Tawnypelt.

(Go check out my meta intentions with Hawk's redemption arc over here!)

During the Great Battle, Tigerheart stayed to watch the embarrassment of the first attack, but defected as soon as the fighting got serious in the second one. She wasn't going to hurt her Clanmates, haughtily announcing that this was the best opportunity to, "join the winning side."

After the fight, Dovewing's powers started to ebb away... taking her hearing with it. Meeting with Tigerheart was always refreshing, sometimes it felt like she was the only one who really 'understood' what she wanted.

Things began to get serious when Tigerheart's apprentice, Sleekpaw, developed a rebellious streak, and a group of strange cats arrived at the lake. Onestar reacted badly, and ShadowClan fell to the kin.

BB!AVoS

If Tigerheart has any regrets, it's how she was careless with her niece. She didn't think it was a problem to just let her work it out.

It seemed... harmless. Kids who wanted to feel cool and powerful, she could empathize with that.

The apprentices weren't wrong, at first. The way Onestar immediately became upset about the outsiders, the way two kits were separated because of a vague prophecy, how Clans refused to cooperate even after everything. Tigerheart was frustrated by much of it too.

But there was something wrong about Darktail. Especially when he announced that he was accepting any cat who felt wronged and excluded from Clan society.

Maybe the impulse was harmless. Maybe Darktail was the problem in the end. In any case, the yellowcough outbreak ravaged ShadowClan and the Kin, and WindClan refused to let either of them collect mullein to treat their sick.

Dying to yellowcough is a horrible fate. Catmint can cure, but mullein must be used to prevent lung damage. Tigerheart watched clanmates survive the illness, only to choke to death in the end.

Crowfrost, the deputy and Tigerheart's brother-in-law, was one of them.

Crowfeather, Harespring, and Heathertail went behind Onestar's back to deliver what they could, but too late to save many cats that Tigerheart loved.

After this, ShadowClan quickly fell apart. The Kin was stronger, having immediately kicked the sick out of their group and quarantined.

Cats like Scorchfur said that if Rowanstar wasn't a weak leader, he would have made "hard choices" and done the same

Tigerheart realized that every group had a different reason for following the Kin. Some wanted Clans to be harsher. Some wanted more diplomacy. Others were just looking for connection.

She's smarter than most, and realized that this was much like the Dark Forest. The Kin was everything and nothing, and that meant there was probably an ulterior motive behind it.

They couldn't be trusted.

But no one listened to her. ShadowClan crumbled, she had to flee, and her last memory of her sister Dawnpelt is the image of her worried expression over her shoulder, leaving her behind in the Kin's new camp.

Dawnpelt wouldn't separate herself from her kits, including Sleekwhisker.

An ancient curse was filled yet again, tabby tiger watching their golden sibling fade away.

While staying with ThunderClan, Tigerheart found herself wrapped up in the messy sort-of-relationship between Dovewing and Bumblestripe

Dovewing was clearly unhappy, caught between two uncertain options, growing increasingly frustrated with ThunderClan

When Violetshine brought SkyClan back to the Lake for the final fight with the Kin, Tigerheart decided she needed to go be with her freed Clanmates, wherever they were to go.

Tigerheart asked her to come, but Dovewing wasn't ready. She couldn't leave her Clan, especially not when it wasn't even clear if the ex-ShadowClan cats would be fully accepted into SkyClan

Shortly after making that choice, Dovewing became pregnant. Dread twisted into panic as she realized she didn't want to raise kits with Bumblestripe, the thought of ThunderClan constantly speaking over her as a parent sunk in, and the knowledge that she had already turned Tigerheart down overwhelmed her.

With ShadowClan disbanded, Rowanclaw refusing to choose a new deputy and rejecting his remaining lives, Tigerheart and the survivors had to try and get used to being part of SkyClan.

Heartstar's Rise

This is a summary; go ahead and see the 1st draft outline of Heartstar's Rise over here!

After Dovewing choose Bumblestripe over her, Tigerheart returned to the ShadowClan survivors

They had been annexed into SkyClan, as Rowanstar was refusing to lead after his Clan fell apart under his watch

He never replaced Crowfrost after his horrible death, and was calling himself "Rowanclaw."

Ironic, that he was now in the same position as Blackstar, just before he was made deputy... but this time, there was a safer, more stable Clan for his cats to serve. He was convinced he was doing the correct thing.

This was causing problems related to the ex-ShadowClan cats having a lack of autonomy over themselves; they were no longer a Clan, but still felt like one.

They didn't want to be SkyClan cats. They were ShadowClan.

Tigerheart was more of a leader than Rowanclaw, but he was insisting ShadowClan would never have another star to its name.

"Let it rest in peace."

But before she could hatch a plan, Dovewing vanished, and Tigerheart was told by Poppyfrost (open to change) that she fled because she was pregnant.

So, of course, Tigerheart charged off to go find her.

After traveling far, far east for many days, she hit the church of the Guardians.

While there, her resolve to rebuild ShadowClan only grew stronger, though she promised Dovewing that this time... it was her choice.

She would stay and raise the kits with her, become a Guardian. Anything.

Dovewing, however, felt that this wasn't right either. Tigerheart needed to get home, her love of ShadowClan was completely different from Dovewing's dread for ThunderClan.

And... though she loved it here, she would love being wherever Tigerheart was.

Several guardians decided to join them for their own reasons; Blaze, Ant, and Cinnamon.

Spiresight is probably not going to be one of these (open to change); because he is now the leader of the Guardians. His name refers to the Guardian's new leader ability to sense anything that happens in their territory through the flora that grows there. It was not a name given by Tigerheart.

They came back to SkyClan and ex-ShadowClan cats having an argument over kittens that the Kin's remnants were still in possession of.

Yarrowleaf had been exiled from the Kin remnants and was begging for them to go back and 'save' the newborns Hopkit and Flaxkit.

The ex-Shadow cats wanted to launch an attack to steal back their own kittens and those of dead relatives; Leafstar was vetoing this out of a mix of wanting peace and seeing that the Kin remnants also had a right to the kits through being parents, relatives, etc.

Yarrowleaf especially; how could she know if she was telling the truth that Nettle was a danger to the kits? Yarrowleaf could have been exiled because she was the danger.

Tigerheart decided that enough was enough. ShadowClan was clearly still a separate Clan in their hearts, and they should be making their own choices, not begging someone else's leader for permission.

She will make controversial, ShadowClan-centric choices as a leader-- this time around, I want it to be less "black-and-white," so that the Kin remnants aren't completely evil and there's nuance to this situation... which Tigerheart tramples, displaying how she makes choices.

But, this time, the raid has a consequence; Tigerheart died in the attack.

However, Dovewing couldn't accept this, and brought her to the Moonpool in desperation.

Once there, Rowanstar refused to watch another child die. Declaring her his deputy, he grabbed her body and dove into the water, drowning away all of his lives so that she could live.

StarClan was touched by this heroic display of self-sacrifice, and was emotional enough to perform a miracle; Rowanstar's last life became Heartstar's first.

And with that life, Rowanstar gave her strength. Strength he used for one last kick, to send her back up to the surface of the pool as he sunk into the abyss below.

After this, Heartstar rebuilds ShadowClan. She can be a very biased leader, often ending up in situations where she lets her family off the hook easier than other warriors, or doling out 'theatrical' punishments just to say she did it. On that note, there are aspects of the code she barely cares about.

For this reason, even with the Clan she has the achievement of rebuilding, she can be quite polarizing. Her supporters adore her; her detractors despise her. This hasn't inhibited her ability to rule though...... yet.

(Better Bones does not cover arcs that are not done yet!)

Her political profile is largely 'soft' Traditionalism. She believes that ShadowClan must come first and that fighting keeps the Clans strong, but is committed to preserving the strength of the other four and does a lot of diplomacy. On Clan collaboration, she leans towards Fire Alone. On most other things, she leans Traditionalist.

#Girlbossstar building her empire #Yassifies your Tigerheart #Heartstar #Better Bones AU #Character Profile #Heartstar's Rise

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snek-panini · 2 months

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Very belated Binderary books, uh...I've lost track actually. I think they are #6 and #7. And it's another two-volume split! This is (Slow) Burn, Baby, Burn by orchidlocked, an extremely long Good Omens fic set in the 1970s. It's about our favorite angel/demon pair navigating the disco scene, and it's not an AU, which is sort of usual in a fic this long and with such a specific premise. There are a fair few real people featured here, some as major characters, and a lot of music history and an excellent playlist alongside all the fun and angsty relationship stuff that so many of us are here for. I learned a lot about disco reading this fic and it was fascinating and also way more queer than I ever realized.

For the cover up there we have a white Allure book cloth on the spine, and white HTV over homemade book cloth for the main cover. The cloth pieces both come from the same sheet but I oriented the stripes this way so they'd be coordinated-but-not-matched and I really love the effect. They're also cotton and really nice to hold. It's funny, I was thinking of binding this fic when I found the fabric while digging through the Joann's remnant bin, and as soon as I saw it this fic not only came to mind but moved up to the top of the to-bind list. It was fate, clearly.

More photos under the cut!

Both spines and a top view. That's orange HTV for the titles. This it the first time I've worked with matte HTV (I usually use metallic or foil) and I was surprised at how much thinner it is, and how easy it was to stick. And I like the color inverse here in counterpoint to the front cover. The top view shows off the handmade endbands and bookmark, and also the rounding job. I'm still working on rounded spines, and the turn-in over the spine didn't come out as smooth as I'd have liked, but I think it's a good result. The ribbon bookmark was supposed to be blue to match the endbands, but every blue ribbon I could find clashed horribly with the cover so it's this nice leafy sage green. Which actually works really well with...

The endpapers! I got these as Joann's too. All four are cut from the same print, but I shifted and rotated them when I trimmed them so the patterns wouldn't all be in the same place. I had desperately wanted this other paper I found on Etsy with little vinyl records all over it, but the pieces weren't the right shape and I'd have had to ship them from overseas ($$), but I like the mood these ones set. And they're thick and nicely textured and look awesome with the cover, so really I think things worked out very well.

Couple of pics of the interior. I kept it fairly simple but I feel like it fits the story.

The scene break line is orange, to match the covers. I usually use gray but wanted something more fun. I recently bought some off-white paper that I used for most of my binderary projects this year because I've heard it's easier on the eyes, and it is, but I used the older bright white for this so the color contrast would be sharper. No complaints; I think it looks amazing. The second image above is the appendix I put together for the volume. Being so centered in the music industry, this fic has a really long playlist that the author put together with their preferred recordings. It's linked in the story and I did include the link text in the book, but I had my mind on preservation and the challenges of digital archiving while I was making this one, so I also took all the title/artist/album info and just listed it here. It was too much to do all by hand, so I learned how to export a Spotify playlist into an Excel doc, then moved that into the Word doc to print. A lot of steps, but not nearly as hard as I'd thought, and way less tedious.

I have to say this book is aesthetically really different than all my previous ones. I ran into so many design hurdles but I honestly couldn't be more pleased with the end result. I'll have to push my comfort zone like this more often, I guess.

#bookbinding #fanbinding #snek makes books #good omens #it's disco so it needed to be appropriately funky #and i think i nailed it actually #look at them they're awesome

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bellathetmntgeckolady · 12 days

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Day 13: Best Don

Challenge by @tmaynt

Behold my 03 AU version of Don.

Honestly he’s still the same Donny and he wasn’t going to have stripes but then he just felt naked without them. (I’m definitely going to have to fix them again later.)

And yes he has pants on. It’s a color inverted version of the ninja suit concept. I will draw those suits one day!

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squeiky · 3 months

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Oldies Au (Sonadow) digital doodle #2

During the earlier stages of the baby times, Shadow was much more tired and often was very protective of baby. So heres a little doodle of him sleeping and protecting the baby in bed.

After a few months of recovery, Shadow went back to his usual awake self, though it was kinda funny seeing him sleeping more than Sonic does (who sleeps alot!).

---

Oldies Au (Blazamy) Doodle #3

Flare had a lot of problems growing up, but throughout all of them, she was always feirce and determined to overcome them!

That trait is still present even as a baby. Here she is taking her first steps, never giving up despite all the challenges and falls.

Also, because it took so long for this to happen, Blaze and Amy were so surprised and happy that Blaze started crying (and then immediatley called Silver to tell him what happened. ) Amy got the zoomies and couldnt help but jump around, cheer and celebrate.

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Bonus:

As characters get older, their colors get more desaturated overtime. So babies are the most saturated, whilst elders or older adults are very greyed out. When it comes to black and white colored characters, same thing applies (white turns greyer/ darker. Black turns greyer/lighter).

The only exception to the saturation rule, would be the super forms. As that remains glowy and bright.

Oh, and Meridiana (also known as Baby) get his "stripes" as he grows up. Similarly, Greybell gets his little "glow-ring" patterns and horns, as he grows as well. This goes for powers as well.

Though unlike Greybell, Meri and Flare got the quick trait, so their powers activated earlier, and Greybell got it very late. (Much to the parents dismay as babies can barely* control their powers. Think of baby sonic crashing into walls, or baby blaze burning her stuff toys, you get the idea.)

#oldies au #sonadow #blazeamy #blazamy #shasoni

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ddejavvu · 10 months

Note

mv Monday!!!!

Do you think you could write a mall!au where reader works at like a women’s store (think Victoria’s Secret or aerie type) but mall employee!sirius/remus come in all the time to flirt with her? I don’t have a pref for either boy, whatever you feel like!!! 🫶🫶🫶

today is multiverse monday, send me any au you can think of! :)

this post is 18+, minors dni.

It's 1 PM on a Thursday, so you're not surprised that the only people in your store are Lupin and Black. They come more often than you do, you're fairly certain, and they don't work with you.

"Boys," You drawl, watching their pathetic attempt to seem casual wandering amongst, "If you're not here to buy something, you know I have to ask you to leave."

Both men turn, once more feigning coy. Remus reaches for a pair of panties beside him without looking, and Sirius brings up the rear as he approaches your counter.

"Just these," Sirius grins, and Remus sets the lacy underwear in front of you, price tag facing up and ready to be scanned.

You chew the inside of your cheek; you should challenge them. You should stop them in their tracks, refuse to sell them the underwear, because you know they're only buying it to stay in the store. They're relentless, and although their persistence pleases you, you're determined to get them to crack. They won't admit that they're pursuing you, but you're tired of the game they're playing; you want to win.

Unfortunately, you can't just deny them the sale. You don't have good reason, not reason enough for corporate, and their rules are that you're allowed to refuse service only on pre-approved grounds.

Horniness is not one of them, so you scan the panties with a tinny beep.

"$18.39." You wait for them to blanch, to back down because they hadn't expected to get this far, and $20 is more than they're willing to pay to flirt.

Instead, "Can we have that gift-wrapped, dove?"

You try to tamp down the burning of your cheeks at Remus's words, watching as he swipes his card when prompted. The payment goes through, and you snag tissue paper from under the counter, carefully folding the panties in on themselves until you can package them in a neat square. You set them gently into a pink striped bag, one that holds its stiff shape as you tug at the black strings, and pass it over the counter, letting Lupin take it from your outstretched fingers.

"Thanks." Sirius grins, and Remus pawns the bag off onto him. You wait for them to leave, to take their daily dose of teasing and head back to their record store, but instead Sirius reaches out, setting the bag back onto the counter.

"Gotta present for you, angel." Sirius grins, "Wanna try 'em on? Just to make sure they fit, and all."

Your stomach tries migrating to your feet. You're surprised by their bold moves, they're usually more lazily flirtatious. Now they're outright brazen, and you're at a loss for words.

Remus sees your brain malfunctioning, and he considers that it might be for the wrong reasons. He grabs hold of Sirius's elbow, "If you're uncomfortable-"

But you don't let him finish, quickly shaking off your momentary shock.

"Come on, you two," You hop the counter, landing tantalizingly close to them before they have the chance to stumble backwards. You take a hold of each of their hands, motioning for Sirius to grab the gift bag with a tilt of your chin towards the pink plastic.

"Dressing rooms are vacant. I can manage a fifteen minute break," You start towards the stalls on the opposite wall of the store, "That's seven minutes for each of you, and one for cleanup. Don't be loud." You round on them just before you reach the dressing rooms, narrowing your eyes at their pleasantly surprised expressions, "If you get me fired we can't ever do this again."

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin oneshot #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x reader fanfiction #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black oneshot #sirius black fluff #sirius black drabble #sirius black blurb #sirius black x reader fanfiction #wolfstar x reader #ddejavvu’s multiverse mondays #multiverse mondays

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puddle-nerd · 7 months

Text

Take Me to Church

Summary: It’s Ronal’s turn.

Or… what happens after shopping with your lovers.

Prompt 19 (Threesome) for my submission for LunasKinktober2023

Story Tags: No use of Y/N, Female Reader, Modern AU, Human Tonowari, Human Ronal, Polyamory, M/F/F, Established Relationship, Threesome, Daddy Kink, Mommy Kink, Eating Out, Hand Jobs, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism, Creampie, Song Lyrics

Author’s Note: Hey, so just in case you didn’t read the tags or the warning labels, this is a polyamorous relationship so this one will have Ronal and Reader going to town on each other in this chapter. If you don’t like descriptive scenes depicting woman on woman sexual action, then please don’t read this.

Part 1

Releasing her seat belt, Ronal turned around to face both you and her husband and smirked sharkishly, reminding you both, “It’s my turn.”

Sliding out of the car, you stumbled towards your female lover and happily slid your arms around Ronal’s waist, leaning up to kiss her leisurely. “Hmmm, that is a sight to behold,” Tonowari purred lowly, his eyes darkening as he watched the two women in his life making out. “Shall we take this upstairs, my loves?” Giggling, you followed Ronal into the house, your male lover on your heels after all three of you removed your shoes, and headed up the stairs to the master bedroom. Deciding to be naughty, you reached out and pinched her ass as she climbed up to the next level in front of you, only to yelp when your ass got smacked by a heavy hand. She turned as she neared the doorway and you happily kissed the older woman again, unbuttoning her blouse as you did so.

“Mmm, why don’t you enjoy the show, ‘Wari?” Ronal suggested with a raise of her brows. “I think our little girl wants to play with Mommy now.” You nodded, divesting your lover of her skirt and backing her up onto the bed. When the older woman sat on the edge, you took off your excuse for a thong and kneeled between her knees before you gently nudged her thighs apart and rubbed your lips over her the inside of her leg, looking up at her. “Hello, little sweet thing.”

You kissed the inside of her knee, replying, “Hello, Mommy. May I make you feel good just like you and Daddy made me feel good today?”

“How can you say no to that, sweetheart? You know how good she is with her tongue,” Tonowari smirked, sitting in the armchair tucked into the corner facing the end of the bed. He had divested himself of his clothes and was now lounging as he watched his women. “You did teach her very well.” You blushed at his compliment but your eyes remained focused on your female lover, waiting for her nod, which came a moment later. You grinned and spread her legs a little wider, so happy to nuzzle and kiss your way slowly up her thighs getting closer and closer to the lace panties that separated you from her center.

You met her darkened gaze as you suck a small hickey into the soft skin of her inner thigh, just outside of her underwear. She raised a challenging brow and your moved your nose to caress her through the silk. Her eyes closed slightly as you nuzzled at her clit, licking her through the fabric before you reached up to remove them.

Behind you, Tonowari sighs hungrily, watching avidly.

Ronal spreads her thighs wider at your gentle push after you pulled her panties from her body and sighed as you buried your face against her. The first touch of your tongue against her slick had her making the quietest little noise in the back of her throat. She shifted to lean back and gave you even more access to her cunt. You parted her folds delicately before allowing your thumb to brush over the hood of her clit, watching excitedly as it began to peek out at you.

“Don’t tease, little girl,” your lover hissed.

You smiled like a brat up at her but leaned in and licked a stripe up her dripping entrance to her clit in response, humming as her flavor burst over your tongue. And now that you’d started, it was time to get to work. Pulling her hips, a little closer to your kneeling position, you licked at her cunt and sucked upon her clit in turns, watching her reaction as you ate at her. While slurping on her button always gave you the most reaction and got her wound up the fastest, you wanted to make her last a little bit longer so you took two of your fingers and eased them into her pussy, kitten licking at her teasingly. She was so warm and wet around your digits, you couldn’t help the slick starting to build up between your own thighs.

Behind you, Tonowari grunted.

You looked up and saw Ronal grinning at her husband. She met your gaze and stated, “Looks like he’s enjoying what he’s seeing, sweet little thing. He can’t keep his hands still.”

You released your one lover to glance behind you at the other and sure enough, he had spread his legs and was slowly pumping his renewed erection. You grinned and used your unoccupied hand to flip your skirt up as you spread your own thighs, baring your ass and slickening pussy to his hungry gaze. “Daddy’s got to sit there and watch me make Mommy feel good,” you declared haughtily, wiggling your hips tauntingly at him. If you weren’t careful, he’d bring you over his knee in retribution for being such a spoiled little imp later, not that you’d complain. However, you realized you might get away with it when Ronal chortled at your words before she grabbed you by the back of your head and brought your face between her thighs once more.

“Make Mommy feel good,” she moaned.

You sucked on her clit once more, your two fingers thrusting in and out of her tightening cunt. You could feel her gummy walls beginning to tighten around your digits and worked even faster. You want her to feel good. You need her to feel good.

Unbidden, the lyrics to a song crash through your head…

She tells me, “Worship in the bedroom” The only Heaven I’ll be sent to Is when I’m alone with you I was born sick, but I love it Command me to be well

If Ronal was one of your alters, you never wanted to get up from praying on your knees.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t get quite as deep as Tonowari could so you searched for that spot just inside her entrance. She let out a keening mewl when you found it, humping her hips up into your face now. And you wanted her to see the stars you’d basically seen in the back of the truck so you took your free hand and pushed down on the squish of her tummy for added stimulation, sucking harder and finger fucking her fasted. Her hole was beginning to clench down harder and you knew she was getting close, especially with the way she was digging her fingers borderline desperately into the back of your head, positioning you as she needed for the greatest stimulation.

“That’s it, that’s it, that’s it… Yes!” Ronal chanted, hips beginning to shake as she finally climaxed.

Behind you, Tonowari grunted as he watched his wife reach her peak and tremble as bliss surged through her veins. After licking your female lover clean, she leaned back to catch her breath and you turned, seeing his hand still moving over his length, his brow puckered and his teeth clenched. You turned away from Ronal and crawled over to him, swatting his hands away. He groaned and sat back and let out a noise in the back of his throat as you licked at his leaking tip before sucking it into your mouth.

“Hmmm, come over here, you two.”

You broke away from your male lover to see his wife having removed her lacy bra from herself and pushed herself higher up the bed. She crooked a finger at the two of you to come and join her.

You turned eagerly, only to be stopped when Tonowari put a hand over your belly to halt your movement, the other lifting your top off. “Thank you, Daddy,” you teased, unzipping your skirt and stepping out of it. He unclasped your bra, leaving you in nothing but your knee-high white socks. He left those on you.

You crawled up to Ronal, feeling a large, rough hand caressing your bare ass and shivering when he flicked his fingers through your slick briefly. You kissed her mouth as you sat by her hip, reaching out to cup her full breasts and thumb at her nipples. She bit down lightly upon your bottom lip and moved her face to your neck to leave a hickey of her own while her fingers of one of her hands came to play with your pierced tits gently. You moaned and glanced over at your male love who was stroking his cock lazily as he kneeled between his wife’s legs.

“How do you want us, sweetheart,” Tonowari grunted. He would always defer to his wife in these situations because she was your goddess.

If I’m a pagan of the good times My lover’s the sunlight To keep the Goddess on my side She demands a sacrifice

Ronal shifted onto her back a little better after one last sharp bite to the bruise that would surely form upon the side of your throat and then pulled you to straddle her face while facing her husband. You gasped, the second she settled you onto her, between feeling her tongue lapping at you and watching Tonowari sink his cock into her depths, you weren’t going to last long.

You female lover hummed, her nose tapping lightly at your perineum as she lapped at your cunt like a lazy cat.

Tonowari began to move, pulling out slowly and sinking back into his wife, settling her legs about his waist. You moaned, pleasure raking itself up your spine as you watched. Being together like this was fucking amazing. You would like it even better if Ronal had pulled out her strap and settled you into the middle of them but maybe you could do that later. Right now, you could only focus on her tongue plundering your depths, the sigh of your lover’s cock sinking into his wife’s slick pussy, and his mouth on yours as he kissed you heatedly, making an oblong triangle of building satisfaction.

You clung to his shoulders as you tried not to rut your hips over Ronal’s face, even as your pleasure built higher and higher.

“Oh, f-fuck,” you stuttered, feeling delicate fingers plucking at your clit. “Fuck, Mommy, feels good.”

Tonowari began to speed up his movements and grunted, watching his wife eat you with gusto. You were beginning to tremble, your nails digging into his arms as you tried to keep yourself upright while riding his wife’s tongue. “Don’t stop, baby, she looks like she’s about to cum,” he grunted, snapping his hips even harder.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chanted, feeling the tightening in your core as your pleasure built higher and higher. Ronal pinched your clit and you choked on a cry, “Yes! Oh, fuck yes! Oh!”

You quickly dismounted, shivering upon the bedspread as your climax broke through your body and rolled your eyes into the back of your head as the sensations overwhelmed your mind. You blinked and looked over just in time to see Tonowari snarling through a clenched jaw as he came, his voice a rumbling sound that did things to you, his thumb circling her clit to get to her shatter in orgasm as well. Seeing them together like that was something transcendent and you felt blessed to be able to witness it.

If Ronal and Tonowari were your alters, you never wanted to leave your church.

Take me to church I’ll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies I’ll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife Offer me my deathless death Good God, let me offer you my life 𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸

Originally Posted: 19 October 2023 Word Count: 1,939

AO3

@pandoraslxna, @eyweveng @teyamsatan @lovefrommeelise

#lunaskinktober2023 #avatar #atwow #avatar smut #human reader #ronal avatar #ronal x reader #ronal x you #ronal smut #tonowari avatar #tonowari x reader #tonowari x you #tonowari smut #tonowari x reader x ronal

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