#to at least question if the brother had a point rather than just like. write what we were told.

[liquidstar]

Anyone else who went to highschool in the mid-late 2010s have to learn about a real life murder trial via a true crime podcast as an english assignment or was that just our school

[joelslegalwhre]

drunk confessions

word count // 2.056k

pairing // jake “hangman” seresin x f!bradshaw!reader

summary // You’ve had enough of hiding your relationship with Jake, so you drink yourself a little courage and just screw it

warnings // established relationship. (slightly)drunk!reader, mentions of alcohol, lightweight reader, nicknames for reader (bubbles, sweetheart, etc.), Bradley is in big brother mode, the mission I mentioned isn’t from the film, the pilots still live in their own apartments (all near the base) for this fic, soft!hangman (that man alone is a warning but him being soft???), affectionate Jake and a ton of fluff

a/n // This is the new version of "drunk confessions" from '22! I just changed the wording a little, but nothing of the plot has changed. I loved writing this two years ago and if anyone wants more Hangman, don't worry I have more to come because same haha Thanks to @saradika-graphics for the beautiful dividers ❀

(as always, please tell me if I missed a warning)

Masterlist

You and Jake started dating almost a year ago when Bradley and him were together at Top Gun. 

Rooster and Hangman had never been the best of friends, everyone knew that, so it was never the right moment to tell him about the two of you. The risk of Bradley being angry or perhaps even disappointed was too big. At least that’s what you thought. 

Jake understood why you didn’t want anyone to know. And although he’d love to just scream it out into the world, that he was dating the younger Bradshaw, that he was without a doubt the luckiest man on fucking earth, he respected your decision. 

Jake knew that you’d do the same for him without a question.

You wanted to tell Bradley eventually, just right now wasn’t the right time. But the real question is, when was it really? 

Jake had a hard time keeping away from you whenever you were at the Hard Deck with the team. You mostly spent your time at the bar with Penny, to keep her company and to catch up with the latest news - often involving your godfather. 

She and Maverick were so obvious sometimes it made you chuckle, but you really hoped he wouldn’t let her down this time. But Amelia and you would ensure that. 

From your seat at the bar, you also had a perfect sight at the pool table. A lame excuse to stare at a certain blonde pilot all night. 

Jake would always be the first to voluntarily get a new round of beers for the group, and no one complained about it. They were all so caught up in what they were doing, that no one noticed how he eyed you all night, ready to be by your side in seconds if anyone were to bother you. 

-

“Hey Penny, sweetheart. Another round please!” he gave her a wink and shot her one of his handsome grins. Penny nodded with a smile in return and turned around to get seven cold beers for the young pilots. 

“You look smokin’ hot, baby.” he whispered to you as his bright eyes met yours. They had this glow in them every time he looked at you. 

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Seresin.” you teased him with a wink. 

“I can do way more than look good. Whatever you want, Bradshaw.” he grinned while his hand secretly found yours on the bartop, his broad frame shielding it from preying eyes. 

You chuckled lightly, “Oh really?”

“Oh yeah, babe. You better wait for me when everyone’s gone. I need to take ya home with me.” he flirted shamelessly in his southern accent you loved so much. Jake knew you’d do exactly that anyway, since you basically lived at his apartment at this point, but where would be the fun?

-

Not even Phoenix knew about the two of you, so you could say both Hangman and yourself did a rather good job. 

This time was different though. 

They were all going to meet up at the Hard Deck tonight, for another night of pool, darts and what not. The next mission was in less than a week, and you just wanted to spend as much time with Jake as possible. Just like he wanted to with you. 

Jake hated to keep his hands by himself when you were just a few feet away, playing darts with Fanboy or Bob. You never hid from them, after all, Rooster was your older brother. If you weren’t talking to Penny, you spent your nights with them, laughing, drinking and chatting. 

Not tonight… tonight would be different.

You met Penny at the bar in the late afternoon, to help her get everything ready before the first guests would come in. Amelia was staying at a friend’s house, so you gladly took over her part. 

When everything was ready for the Hard Deck to open, you sat down at your regula seat at the bar. 

Penny looked at you from the side while she turned on the lights underneath the bar. “Can I get you anything?” She asked, a hint of worry in her voice. 

“Can I get a beer?”

“Sure, sweetie.” Penny smiled gently. She put the bottle down in front of you, and you took a large sip. 

“So,“ Penny started, putting her hands on the bar, arms on each side of your beer. “What’s on your mind, sweetheart? You’ve been out of it today.“ You looked up at her, and she had this look on her face that gave you so much comfort. You knew you could tell her everything and she’d keep it safe. 

„I… I’ve been thinking about…„ Yeah, what exactly was it that you thought about ever since opening your eyes today? 

You didn’t even know. Not really. 

You thought about telling Bradley about your relationship with his rival, screwing everything. But you’ve also thought about keeping it to yourself just a little longer. The upcoming mission was creeping into your mind at every thought; What if they didn’t make it? You didn’t want to think about that more than just a second. Not about your brother nor Jake. 

He would come back, and he’ll be fine. This wasn’t his first mission.

“I don’t even know Penny, I’m so confused.” you sighed and let your head fall into your crossed arms. 

“You’ll figure it out, sweetheart. I know you will.” she said, caressing your hair. You lifted your head to look into her eyes, her kind smile calming your racing thoughts a little. 

Not enough, though. 

That night, you kind of ignored your limits of how much alcohol you could handle in one night. You got pretty much drunk. Not to a point where you could throw up or blackout, Penny was in charge of the bar after all, but the kind you’d be rewarded with a nice headache the next day and your mind to be pretty foggy. 

Drinking wasn’t one of your strengths. That’s why Jake liked to jokingly call you a lightweight, and he couldn’t be more accurate with it. 

You’ve been sitting at the bar for a good part of the night now. The team had already greeted you when they came in, asking you to come with them, but you declined, telling them you’d maybe join them later.

“Penny.” you tried to get her attention, a sudden certainty in your voice, “Please excuse me. I have to go and get some kisses now.“ 

“That’s his boyfriend duty,” you said with a confident nod. “You know, happy wife, happy life.” 

Penny had no idea how no one of the team could see the glances Hangman gave you. How he couldn’t tear his gaze away from you even if he tried. If anything happened, he’d be there in a heartbeat. And those poor guys who tried to flirt with you were quickly intimidated by his death stare. 

Penny just laughed. She had kept a close eye on you since your third drink of the night, the last two she gave you were non-alcoholic, but you didn’t have to know that. 

She ignored your choice of words at the saying, not changing ‚wife‘ to ‚girlfriend‘ with a chuckle and motioned you to go. “Go and tell Jake then.” You looked at her with wide eyes, “How did y‘know I’m talking about Jake?” 

Penny tilted her head with a smile, “Sweetheart, I notice things.” she winked, “Now go and get your man.” 

The next thing you knew, you were trying to your boyfriend at the pool table. 

“Hey, Jake!” 

His head snapped in your direction at the use of his first name. You were the only one calling him that. And the first name basis got everyone else’s attention as well. 

“Yeah?” he tried to not be too obvious. But his concern about how you were feeling was rising with every second. 

You didn‘t stop at the pool table, but walked up to him. Until you stood right in front of him. You looked up into his bright eyes, filled with curiosity.

“I need kisses.” you told him with a pout, wrapping your arms around his neck. He was so thrown off by what you were saying, that he almost forgot the others around him.

Jake unwrapped your arms from his neck and placed his hand on your lower back. “I think you need some water and sleep, bubbles.” he couldn‘t suppress the small grin that grew on his lips.

„Kisses?! What the fuck is-„ Rooster started but was quickly interrupted by you, “Oh for god’s sake shut up Bradley.” you hushed your brother in honest annoyance, turning to him. 

“I love you, but I’m sick and tired of hiding something from you that’s important to me, just because I’m scared of what you’ll think or do.”

Hangman’s gaze was a mix between shock and pride. That you just straight out told your brother and all of your friends standing around you, about the two of you. Not keeping it a secret anymore. He knew it took a toll on you, and he’d told you multiple times to just tell Bradley for your own sake.

“Oh my god” you heard Phoenix breath out a laugh, while the others couldn‘t find words, still shocked, while some of them were exchanging amused looks.

Bradley didn’t. He looked back and forth between you and Jake, not able to process it all quite yet.

„Sorry man, listen I-„ 

“Just give me a second, okay?” Rooster cut Hangman off, stomping to the bar. 

“Let him be,“ you said while curling yourself into his side, hugging his arm close to your body, “He’ll be fine by tomorrow, the old drama queen.” Sober-you would probably be scared Bradley would be angry or disappointed. 

Good thing you weren‘t sober right now. 

“Babe, how much did you have to drink?” Jake whispered, as he bent down a little until his lips reached your ear.

“Ohh, not that much.” you assured him as you tried to sound sober, looking up at his face, only inches away from yours.

He looked back to the bar, finding Penny’s gaze. She mouthed something like “water” easing Hangman’s concern about your drunken state.

“Let’s get you to bed, huh, sugar?” he softly smiled at you. A real smile, one he had reserved for only you. 

You instantly shook your head in disagreement, “I swear, I’m not-„ you yawned, “that tired.” 

“‘Course you aren't” he mockingly smiled down at you.

“C‘mon, on my back.” he ordered, putting his hands behind his back, ready to hold your legs for support. He bent down, and you tried your best to hop on his back. You wouldn’t win anyway, and sooner or later - you preferred later - he’d carry you out the bar. 

You rested your head on Jake’s shoulder and wrapped your hands around his body. Your eyes already closing as the exhaustion betrayed you.

“Wow, Hangman, nice one.” Coyote teased him, the others joining in with laughter. Who would’ve thought Hangman had a soft spot.

“Shut it, Coyote.” Jake said with a look that would make anyone run for the hills.

“See you tomorrow, lover boy!” Phoenix joked. 

You giggled on Jake’s shoulder, “That’s a good one!” you lazily turned your head in her direction and smirked, Phoenix and the others laughing back at you.

“You’re supposed to be on my side.” Jake complained, giving your ass a little smack.

“Hey.” you giggled, but did nothing in response. Your head ached a little, and you hadn‘t had the strength nor willpower to do so. Just relived to be carried, you let your head sink back on Jake’s shoulder. 

“I love you.” you whispered to Jake as he carefully sat you down on the passenger seat of his car. He stopped in his tracks, his eyes finding yours. Jake bent down to place a soft kiss on your lips and he smiled. 

The slight smell of alcohol was surrounding you, but Jake couldn’t care less. „I love you, and I’ll never let you go, that’s for sure. You’re all mine, baby.“ he whispered back between small kisses, giving you goosebumps. His scent surrounded you as you wrapped your hands around his neck to bring him even closer. “Good.” you grinned and pulled him into another, longer kiss.

Masterlist

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

All My Scars

The stories behind one of the scars each of the twst cast has SOME ARE WAY ANGSTIER THAN OTHERS OKAY please read the tw and the tags, and like the stuff in brackets under characters names that have them for a heads up...what Specifically their section covers

TW: SH, abuse, Bad Parents (specified in the reading), references to alcoholism, implied SA survivor, and some OOC stuff bc I like making Cater cry sorry PROCEED WITH CAUTION FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, apologies for inconsistencies

IF YOU DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ. Here's my masterlist to some fluffier stuff if you still want to check out my writing. Thank you!

I'll be doing a fluffier version of this some other time, like dumbest childhood injuries they had or something, so if this ain't for you, please hold! --------------------------------------------------------------------

"How did you get your scar(s)?"

Heartslaybul

Riddle The question caught him off guard. He glanced down at his hand where your thumb ran over the small indentations on the skin between his thumb and pointer finger, a small smile kicking up the corner of his mouth.

"That was Che'nya. When we were kids." You looked at him, your silence prompting him to continue.

He smiled a little more, gently pulling his hand from yours to look at the scars left there, laughing softly, though a bit pained.

"I wasn't prepared to receive very much physical affection, but Che'nya couldn't really help himself. He said if hugs were off the table, he just wanted to nibble." He chuckles softly "Of course he didn't give me much of a warning, though Trey tried to stop him before he bit me. It was a shock at the time, but both of them explained it was an expression of affection...I confirmed it later on in an article on the behaviours of beastmen. Trey was used to getting bites from Che'nya, but usually with less pent up energy. Nonetheless, he helped me take care of it before I had to return home."

His brow furrowed a bit as he sighed.

"Of course, my mother noticed eventually, the divots on my hand. It was the first and only time I ever outright lied to her - lies of omission aside. I know she didn't believe me when I told her it was just me being clumsy with my pencil, but I suppose it was a tender mercy she didn't have time to deal with me that day." He looked at the divots a little longer, a particular softness in his expression.

"They're the only scars I have. I find it rather ironic that the only imperfection I carry in my mother's eyes...is the lasting impression that there is at least one person who cares for me more than she has ever been capable of."

His smile was sad, but he tried to keep things light as he looked at you. "That is not an invitation to try and bite me as well. I know full well you care for me...because you've helped the scars nobody can see, fade."

Trey

"Which ones?" He chuckles softly, pausing his kneading as he held out his arms for you to look over the various marks he had, before he pointed at one, taking matters into his own hand. "My youngest brother likes this one for some reason. He thinks the texture is different and kinda just rubs my arm when he's calming himself down."

He turned his arm so his elbow was pointing out a little bit so he could look at his forearm, pointing to a bigger scar. "This was a burn from bumping against the edge of the oven while trying to take out a tray of cookies in a rush."

He turned his arm yet again, showing off another one. "This one was from me trying to reheat baked potato leftovers. I put butter on it and threw it in the microwave, but I almost dropped the bowl when I took it out and had the bright idea to try and catch it. Splashed hot butter up my arm." He chuckled again, using his shoulder to bump up his glasses. "I have a few from Che'nya as well. Some from my siblings. Some from baking. But they make for good stories should I ever need something to share."

Cater (Heads up for the abusive parent HC's regarding using kids for media Clout) <- you can read by clicking the link

He looks startled, like he's just seen a ghost before trying to laugh it off.

"I uh...oooh sevens don't tell me you saw me eat dirt like two days ago while I was skateboarding! I swear normally I'm better than that, I just- I didn't scar, just a scrape and nothing more, swear! It's sweet you're concerned though."

You gave him a bit of a sad look, before sighing, looking away awkwardly, knowing there was no...delicate way to tell him what you wanted to.

"Look, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, but the last time I was babysitting Cheka I...saw what he was watching on his tablet and um...well I unsubscribed him from the channel but there were some videos on there that-"

"Stop."

Cater was hugging himself, balled up as tightly as he could get on the opposite side of the couch, his hair shrouding his face somewhat. He was taking shallow, rapid breaths, and while you wanted nothing more than to reach out and comfort him, you didn't think he would respond well to touch at the moment.

"How much did you see?" His voice was as demanding as he could get it from inside of his little shell.

You cleared your throat a bit. "I didn't go digging into any of the videos, won't watch any if you don't want me to...it was just some of the thumbnails that...worried me that you...might have more than emotional scars to work through..."

You moved slowly to kneel on the floor next to Cater, offering your hand should he want to take it. "I'm sorry, there were better ways for me t-"

"You're right." He sobbed softly, looking out at you, nothing but pain on his face as he tried to hold in another sob, taking your hand in his, and moving it to gently run over his outer forearm.

"I c-cover them up um...a-all the time, it's second nature now but.." he takes a few moments to try and catch his breath.

"These ones were all from the same damned prank video...mom..covered the floor in dish soap in the kitchen...I was like...four, I still loved cookies, so when she said there were some, I came running in...slid and crashed into the oven...."

He sniffled and rubbed at his eyes with his free arm. "I remember watching the doctor pluck glass out from me and my mom was outside the room....just...yelling at my dad..."

He waved his hand over his forearm, letting the faded scars come to light beneath his concealer, trusting you to keep this a secret. His eyes still held unshed tears as he looked away from his arms, and from you.

"And the worst part? That video went viral. People thought it was funny. So of course mom went and did more and more prank videos, even if some people made it popular for the wrong reasons, there was still attention and validation there for her efforts, so it didn't matter. If I was crying, it was cute for me to...fuss, because I was- am the youngest, and nothing I felt really mattered. It was- I just-....I like being who I am now...most of the time...because nobody...nobody sees beyond what I want them to see...er...most people now I guess..." He gave you a bit of a bashful smile, clearly upset and conflicted still, before his face fell again and he gently tugged his hand from yours.

"Just give me a few minutes and everything will be okay again. Promise."

Deuce (with the HC he's deaf/HoH)

He kinda just sighed deeply at your question, shooting you a bit of an unimpressed look.

"I mean you could take a guess where I got most of'm and probably hit the nail on the head." He huffed, rubbing the back of his neck a bit, his eyes drifting to the side awkwardly as he wracked his brain for a scar story that wouldn't dredge up memories he'd rather forget.

"I mean the scar story my mom tells her coworkers about..." He cringes a tiny bit at the idea of relaying the story the same way his mother does, but sighed anyways.

"I was young, like really young, maybe two or three. It was before I was used to my hearing aids, so I didn't have them in at the time. She had just turned a little to greet one of our neighbours who had come out to say hello, only to hear ungodly squawking, followed by giggles...I didn't know the bird I'd managed to grab was giving me a heads up it didn't like being grabbed, besides it's struggling...long story short, it bit me pretty good." He blushed a bit and pointed to a relatively small scar on his cheek. "I don't even know what kind of bird it was. I just know what happened because it was something my mom talked about a lot."

Ace (TW for alcoholic father/abuse/manipulation)

"Mmh?" he sounded rather uninterested. It was a fair question, given the amount of time the two of you hung out, it wasn't like you wouldn't notice the jagged scar on his neck to his collarbone.

He shrugged, trying to play off how uncomfortable the memory was. "Just somethin' that happened when I was a kid."

Your unspoken questions bothered him more than he thought they would, rocking to sit up properly and look at you a little pissy.

"Look, I'm over it, so I'll tell you but I don't want a damn reaction or pity, okay? I was nine, my brother had just gotten his admission letter into NRC, and my dad was drunk off his ass. Threatened my brother with the cost of my life if he quit his job and stopped being his beer fund- not that it was much of a threat, it was a glass bottle or some shit he'd shattered and held to my neck. That was the night my brother made arrangements for me to live with his friends families so he could still come here without making me walk on eggshells around my dad. He still won't tell me if he kept paying the bastard's beer money or not, but my dad's in rehab now, and I don't ever gotta go back to him by myself again. I can just visit my brother now he's got his own place, even if he's got a roommate. So now you know." He got up from the couch, shaking out his hands a bit.

"Now, I'm gonna make some breakfast and I'm using your materials. Ain't no way I'm trekking back to Heartslaybul just for breakfast."

Savanaclaw

Leona

"Don't remember" He stretched on his bed, yawning. "Same shit I told Ruggie. It doesn't affect me now, so what's the point in remembering it? Can't hold on to every dusty memory."

"Aren't scars a symbol of nobility to those from Sunset Savannah?"

You could practically feel the discomfort rolling off of Leona in waves as he turned his back to you more.

"....yeah, they can be..." he sighed, feeling the weight of your next question mounting. "Just chalk it up to some stupid royal tradition that should have been abolished years ago. You don't have to believe it, but I'm done talking now."

Ruggie (Hyena Hierarchy shit ig?)

"Eh?" His ears flick playfully as he snickers. "They ain't a big deal. Growin' up some of the girls would play a little rough, 'nd now I mainly take care of the rugrats they like to chew and bite on anything they can get their little teeth into, not limited to ears and tail."

His ear flicks again and he holds his hands out. "And I mean, my hands ain't scarred but I don't have fingerprints cuz my grandma taught me how to do the hot food flip, you know what I mean." He snickers. "But y'know, just cuz they don't hurt anymore, doesn't mean I won't take a little extra cuddles or pets if you're gonna offer."

Jack

He scratched the back of his head a bit. "You noticed it??" He seemed a little awkward, and now that the fact had fully settled that the only scar he had was the small one on his upper lip, you could kind of understand why.

You nod a bit and he sighs, his hand dropping from behind his head and looking off to the side, a little bit embarrassed.

"It was a frog." He cringed a bit at his wording and at the eyes he felt from you, and he knew you were trying to hold back laughter.

"I- my bigger cousin was showing me a frog he caught and it jumped on my face. I didn't have full awareness of ah...my capabilities and...where my claws were in relation to my face... ended up hurting myself in the process of getting it off of me. I don't remember much else after that....just that I don't...love frogs..." He admitted a little shyly, tail tucked slightly, and clearly embarrassed.

Octavinelle

Azul

He looks at you rather unimpressed, then gestures to the tweels.

"They think I'm a chew toy. They would be the reason for any and ALL of my scars, as I've never been in any other danger where scarring would be an issue."

Jade

The question seems to hit him harder than you expected. Jade was normally hard to read, but his discomfort was apparent with your question. He gave you a practiced, but strained smile.

"The story behind my scars are not something I share willingly with anyone. I will be taking my leave." (but you can read the story here >:D)

Floyd (partial nudity?? but it's just Floyd showing off the scars he has all along his legs enthusiastically)

"Aha! I got a whole buncha scars shrimpy, which ones are ya curious 'bout?" He flopped down next to to you, and took his shirt off, showing off scars on his back.

"Oh didya see the ones on my legs durin' basketball practice?" He tried to pull up his school uniform pant leg, to no avail. He huffed and just slid his pants off, leaving him in his boxers as he showed off the scars all along his legs.

He beamed "It's a helluva lot harder t'see em when I'm in my mer form, blend right in with my scales, but my human body?? I look sick!! And there ain't too many humans who can boast 'bout havin' scars from a shark attack or a tussle with a barracuda! I got a whole buncha stories I could tellya if ya think you can stomach'em-" He snickers.

Scarabia

Kalim

"Ahah....I..I've got a scar?? Where?" For some reason he seemed a little panicked, looking over his arms anxiously. "No, no I shouldn't have any scars I um- I- just-"

His behaviour made you a little worried, so you moved to take his hands in yours, trying to steady him, but he pulled away from you, looking at you rather frantically.

"Just tell me where! I....I can- I'm alright, promise, but I don't have any scars!"

I'm realizing I have an obsession, here's another story

Jamil

"I mean I have a few minor scars on my hands from when I first started learning to cook." You watched his practiced movements as he chopped vegetables at a quick pace, sliding them off the cutting board as necessary to make more room for himself.

"Though I suppose with how intently you watch me work it's not a stretch to assume you noticed them." He gives you a bit of a knowing smirk, before pausing for a moment, and flexing his wrist to show a small scar on the back of his hand.

"That one was from taking care of Najma. She was just learning how to walk and wandered out of my fathers sight. My mother was taking care of something inside the palace, so as soon as I noticed she wasn't toddling around us, my father and I began searching for her. She ended up somehow getting herself wedged between....seven, I can't even remember. I remember putting both hands in, and pulling one one out with a cockroach on it, and the other struggling to pull Najma out until my dad was able to assist." He shook his head and sighed. "I cut myself on the wood around her, needed a couple stitches after....but she was all good, save for a mouthful of sand she had stuffed into her mouth." he chuckled softly.

"But if I have any other scars...you'll have to wait longer for those stories."

Pomefiore

Vil (SA Survivor vaguely implied)

"I do not know what you are referring to potato. I don't have so much as single blemish on my skin."

You met his eyes in the mirror, a silent questioning match ensuing between the two of you. You broke eye contact first, leaving him satisfied as he took a deep breath.

"There is nothing inherently wrong with scars. But the ones I have don't deserve any more thought, the person who inflicted them are no longer a part of my life, and never will be again. It's been over seven years, I know that there isn't a cell on me that has not been replaced by a new one."

He met your eyes back in the mirror. "Never bring this topic up again, unless you require assistance with your own scars."

Rook

"Hm? I've taken great care to cover them all up, mon trickster. Since coming to Pomefiore and being under Vil's supervision, most of my scars have faded to a point they are barely identifiable." He smiled softly at you.

"Though if you've noticed one or two, I assure you the story is lackluster." Despite his casual appearance, Rook seemed to be on..even higher alert than usual, as in you could actually pick up on the tension coming off of him. Despite this, your curiousity got the better of you.

"How can they be lackluster? Aren't most of them from archery or animals?"

Rook met your eyes with a rather cold expression, and regardless of stature, made it feel like he was looking down on you.

"No."

His glare lasted a beat longer, before he beamed, "Ah, it's best I get going. I bid you good day."

Epel (got top surgery over the summer)

"WHATCHYA MEAN HOW'D I GET MA SCARS?!" He has a wide grin on his face, hiking his shirt up.

"I AIN'T GOT NO TITS NO MORE!" He sets his shirt back down, a shit-eating smile on his face. "It was about damn time y'know! Lookit how flat ma ches- look at the scars!! Ain't they cool lookin?? Make me look MANLY an' strong, earlier Sebek done asked who I fought nd I just told'm it was my femin-feminini-.....it ain't funny now, but his face sure was!"

Ignihyde

Idia (TW for SH scars)

The ends of his hair went almost clear, and he looked rather deflated. "....cats. Stray cats. Used to pick them up without trying to bribe them first..." he mumbled, pulling at his sleeve a little more to try and cover them up, before trying to flash you a smile, though he was clearly uncomfortable and upset, so it only lasted a moment before he turned completely away from you.

The silence was heavy between the two of you, knowing the truth was more than the consequences of an angry cat.

He hugged himself more, still away from you.

"I don't do it anymore...Ortho is here now..to ah...remind me to do better...even if he doesn't know about it, his presence is enough."

Ortho

"Scar??" He tilted his head and giggled a little bit. "I don't really get those. When I get scratches Idia helps me buff them out. Why, do you see one?"

He ran a diagnostics test, trying to answer his own question, but came up empty, now trying to look over himself manually for any sort of disfiguration, only to look at you more confused and a little amused.

"What are you talking about?"

Diasomnia

Malleus

He had to hide a slight pout at your question. "Fae do not scar, not easily..."

He could see the way your eyes shifted between his face and his ear, before he sighed. "However...when I was much younger, I was prone to fits of anger, often scaring and sometimes harming the guards that were too slow to react around me." A tiny smile started to form as he thought about it more.

"Besides the initial pain when his weapon brushed past me, the guards face of terror was enough to make me giggle, despite the blood that dripped from the tiny incision." His hand came up to gently hold his ear between two of his fingers, rubbing over the small scar along the edge of it.

"I told him if he agreed to play with me I wouldn't tell my grandmother what he'd done. In a way, he was one of my first friends..but the news inevitably made it's way through the chain of command, and he was soon replaced by another heartless, soulless guard...they were all like that you know....so afraid of me, as a Draconia, to even extend the hand of friendship to a child."

Lilia

"Kheeheehee I've not got a single one, not anymore! I've had more than enough time for all the memories of my glory days fade like the scars that would have told the stories. Besides, having any visible scars would put a damper on my absolutely adorable face!" He batted his eyelashes, resting his cheeks on the 'v' shape his hands made.

Silver

"How did I get my scars?" He repeated, then looked thoughtful for a moment. "I don't have many...ah." He pulled his pant leg up gently and revealed a somewhat...suspicious looking scar on his calf.

"When I was younger, Sebek's yelling wasn't always enough to wake me up. He got fed up and bit me. He was successful in waking me up, so I have a few other scars similar to that one from when we were kids, but when he was about ten he had to stop. It was too much and he had poor control over his bite force."

He touched the side of his face pensively. "Though I was outside a lot as a child too. I'm sure I've got more scars and marks than I've cared to count. But Fa- Lilia was always attentive during our sparing sessions, so I've never received a scar from a blade."

Sebek

He huffed, an annoyed sounding bellow leaving him as he crossed his arms and turned his face away from you.

"I have not had the opportunity to receive a scar but-"

"The opportunity?"

His face flushed a bit, and he looked a little grumpy, "SILENCE, do not interrupt me human. Of course you wouldn't understand! My grandfather has battle scars still, they're a symbol of his bravery and valiance in Briar Valley! If I should ever have the OPPORTUNITY to receive a scar by blade, I would like to have one that matches his."

Extra

Che'nya

"Eh?? Well why'dya wanna knyow?" He chuckles, sitting crisscross against nothing, upside down in front of you.

"I was just curious- you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

He just giggles more, wiping one hand over half his face, evidently using magic to get rid of concealer on that side of his face.

"It's nyat a big deal, all I've got are acne scars and the result of me just pickin' at myah skin." He grinned, pouting playfully and making a peace sign. "'m still absolutely adorrrrrrrrrrrrable though, makeup just is more tolerable than putting lotion on and reminds me not to pick at it." He purred through his own compliment, before using his hand to use magic and put the concealer back on.

Jack Hearts-Trappola (same TW as Ace, only it's implied here, not outright)

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Don't ask Ace that question, kay? It'll put'm in a funk for the rest of the day even if he denies it." He moved to pour himself a glass off coffee, aware you were still waiting for an answer. He took a sip before looking back to you, and answering best he could.

"The scars I have were mostly caused by glass. Once I got into the entertainment industry, I took up soldering and welding so I've got a few pretty bad burns myself from slag or poor PPE, but I had fun doin' it. So no harm no foul." He grinned, the same wide, shit-eating grin that matched his younger brother's expression so closely, it was uncanny.

Falena

His laugh filled the room, boisterous and light. "Ah, you noticed them?" He had all sorts of scars along his arms, in sets of two or three, headed in the same direction.

"Thank you. Here, scars are a testament to one's nobility, strength and perseverance. I received many from Leona when we used to spar, he was always quick on his feet and caught me off guard many times." He chuckled again. "I was never the best at fighting, but it was an important skill to develop should I ever need to defend my son...and if my wife isn't around to exact her fury." His wife gave him a light, playful shove, making him laugh in response as well.

Najma

"Okay if I tell you, you can't tell Jamil or my parents okay?? Don't go snitching me out." She pulled you up to her room, and to her window, sliding it open to a palm tree just outside.

She pointed down at a ridge on the tree, and then pulled up the cuff of her pants and pointed to a scar from the middle of her calf up to her knee. "That fucking tree bit me when I was just trying to go meet up with some of my girls. Do you know how quiet I had to be so my mom and dad didn't catch on??"

Neige (HC he uses mobility aids (forearm crutches + wheelchair when necessary) when not in public eye)

He laughed softly, settling back into his wheelchair and pulling his leg up across the other one, pointing to a small scar over the front of his ankle.

"I got it when I was really young. I was trying to run away from someone who was chasing me, I don't remember if it was tag or not, but probably! I ended up getting a deeper cut than I thought I did when I tripped over one of those concrete barriers they use for cars. It was already falling apart, so the I guess it was moreso the mix inside the concrete that got me?? I don't remember. I do remember getting ice cream after though." He giggled. "I think I was on my way to a photoshoot. I'll have to see if Vil remembers."

Rollo (vague religious themes, SH, never ask me to write for this man again)

He had a band around his wrist, as if he had a bracelet that had turned into one massive scar. It wasn't entirely unreasonable for you to ask, and now that you knew of his brother, there was no reason to really keep it to himself now.

He sighed, holding his wrist out to you rather disdainfully.

"It's a reminder. Every time I look at it, I can imagine the pain my dear brother was in as fire and magic consumed him. I burnt myself for weeks in the same place so as to remind myself repeatedly what my failure has caused. It serves as a reminder what hell will feel like should I never repent of my sins, or fail in correcting the path so many have fallen to. Magic is no god of mine. I will not let it dictate when life is lost or gained. Not in my life. Not in anyone's if things were to go my way...but I'll show them the right way eventually."

His eyes slid over to you.

"You agree, don't you? You'll walk down the righteous path with me and preach the truth to everyone until they join us too."

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

Free me from my mental prison dear god why do I do this to myself at the worst times of day/night.

[authorluvgxbby]

Mystery Girl

A/N: hello my luvs! I am happy to say that I am finally back. I had decided to take a break from writing due to school being a bit overwhelming, but overtime I have come up with a lot of new stuff to share with you all! And for now, I'll continue to deliver current and future requests sitting in my mail cause i love doing those for ya'll so, by all means, enjoy!

Genre: Fluff, slight crack

Rindou x Reader

Everyone could agree that Tenjiku, along with its four heavenly kings, were made of the strongest and, quite literally, the most brutal gangsters of the S-62 generation. However, within the gang, everyone could only see each other as nothing more than a bunch of idiotic misfits. 

For example, in the eyes of their fellow gang members, the Haitani brothers may be the supreme rulers of roppongi, but deep down they were just two siblings who got on each other's nerves and made it everyone else’s problem.

It was no secret that the older Haitani was a menace to his little brother and took every opportunity he had to tease Rindou. At first, it was annoying, but over time, it was like daily entertainment for Tenjiku to watch the two brothers bicker. 

Today was no different. 

Rindou was peacefully slouching along one of the beat up couches of their dingy warehouse hideout, eyes glued to his phone, while Ran stared holes into the back of his brother’s blonde and blue locks. The silent question bubbling in his mind: what is he doing so long on his phone? 

This matter particularly disturbed the Haitani, since his brother was less of a socialite, especially when it came to social media. Yet, here he was, messages open, while texting an unknown individual that HE didn’t know about? This was indeed quite odd. 

“Rindou,” he calls. 

No answer, just the sound of his thumbs tapping against the device’s screen.

Huffing, he calls once more, “Rindouuu.” Still nothing.

“What could he be so fixated on?” Kakucho voices next to the older Haitani.

“I don’t know, but I don’t like how this person is getting all this attention from my little brother.” 

That’s when the lightbulb goes off, sparking an idea from the older brother’s mind, his signature mischievous smile spreading on his lips. Sighing in pity, all Kakucho could do was watch as Ran carried out his usual wicked deeds towards his little brother.

One swipe was all it took to snatch Rindou’s phone from his hands, which he quickly responds with an empty grasp of air.

“What the fuck Ran?!”

Ran ignores his sibling as he takes a closer look at his current messages to the unknown stranger. He gasps, and there’s a temporary silence that swells in the air.

“Who is it from?” Izana questions, turning everyone’s curiosity to the brothers.

“R-ran, give it back dammit!” Rindou growls, trying to land a hit on his brother but failing miserably.

Squinting at the bright screen, he takes a moment to register the conversation. His eyes widened,“It’s…”

Izana raises a brow “It’s?”

Ran clears his throat, “….it’s from…a girl?”

The gang was silent, mildly in shock, as they turned to the currently blushing dual-colored younger brother.

“Wait Rindou…,” Mochi voices, breaking the intense silence, “since when do you talk to girls?” he questions.

“Damn straight!” Ran says. “And more importantly, why didn’t you tell your dear big bro?” he whines, throwing a puppy look in his direction.

“Cause’ it's none of your damn business!” Rindou groans, snatching his phone back from his menacing brother’s clutches.

“I always thought the dude was more on the other side of the fence…if you catch my drift,” Shion says in wonder, while Mucho nods in agreement as he glances at Sanzu.

 “I AM NOT GAY!” Rindou shouts, heat growing to his cheeks. “And even if I was, I would rather take the information to my grave than tell any of you idiots.” 

“That’s rather offensive Rindou.” Kakucho frowns, folding his arms and shooting him a pointed look. “We may have our differences, but we’re a gang. Comrades, actually. You could’ve at least said something.” 

“What he said,” Ran interjects, throwing a thumb over to Kakucho beside him.

“So who is it you are talking to that has your undivided attention,” questioned Izana.

Ah, the big question.

Everyone stares, waiting for an answer from Rindou.

He sighs dejectedly as his shoulders slump.

“You know what…you guys already know too much anyway so I might as well…” pinching the bridge of his nose, he breathes in deeply. “She’s my girlfriend.”

Safe to say everyone was completely dumbfounded by the news. 

Especially Ran.

“OH THE HORROR,” he cries dramatically, hand clutching his over his heart as he raises a hand over his head.

“Well…that was…unexpected.” Mutters Kakucho.

“Didn’t think he had it in him.” Mochi shrugs.

Just as fast as the comments swirled, so did the questions as well.

“So…what’s she like?” Shion asks.

Now everyone had huddled around the couch where Rindou had seated himself back on, as he continued to text you. 

“An angel from heaven,” he quickly slaps a hand on his mouth. 

“Gross.” Shion sticks out his tongue. 

“You really are smitten huh?” Ran quips, grinning like a fool. 

“Please, shut up.” 

Bzzz!

y/n: you mind if I drop by? I wanna see you before I go home.

Rindou smiles.

Rindou: Sure babe, I’m at the hideout. I’d like to introduce you to the gang if that’s all right?

y/n: sure! On my way  <333

“She’ll be here soon, so stop asking me about her already. You guys are annoying,” Rindou shoots glares at everyone before going back to staring at his phone. 

“Rin rin? Are you here?” you called out sweetly, voice reverberating throughout the rusty walls of the warehouse. 

Everyone pipes up at the new voice, with Rindou being the first to greet you with open arms and softness in his smile. You run towards him, crashing against him as your arms immediately encircle around his waist, burying your face into the warmth of his tenjiku uniform. 

“Rin! I’ve missed you!” 

“I’ve missed you too bubs,” he mumbles in your hair, planting a kiss on your crown. 

“ ‘Bubs’?! Rindou what the fuck type of lovey dovey shit are you on dude?!” Shion cackles from behind.  

However, it isn’t long before he is face-to-face with you, slack jawed at your beautiful appearance.

Before he could even hit you with one of his newest pick up lines, he immediately hits the ground, face smooshed into the harsh, dirt floor with an imprint of fist on his exposed cheek.

Meanwhile, you stood above him, your once soft gaze now darkened with a menacing aura surrounding you. 

“Don’t you dare talk shit about my boyfriend you prick. You got something to say, you say it to my fuckin’ face.”

The sudden change in attitude was one thing, but having the ability to knock out Shion was different. Especially a girl.

“Did she just…knock out Shion?” 

“Way to state the obvious Kakucho.” Izana mocks, grinning at the misfortune of an unconscious Shion.

“Rindou, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK DUDE!”

Ran gasps, pointing an accusing finger at his little brother. “She’s beautiful AND can fight?”

“At least she isn’t like his previous relationships where he ends up getting used or dumped.”

The blatant statement wasn’t too far off either. Ever since Mucho had joined Tenjiku, he had taken notice to Rindou’s frequent change in women overtime in the gang.

Shrugging, he ignores the whole scene while continuing his game of shogi with Sanzu.

“Alright, enough you guys!” Rindou sighs, walking over to you and embracing you from behind. 

“Sweetheart, please don’t worry about them, this is normal. No need to get upset,” he whispers, kissing the shell of your ear. You pout, turning to face your boyfriend. “Rindou, if I were you, I’d beat their asses, but since it’s fine with you then it’s fine with me.”

Nodding, Rindou kisses you on the forehead, smiling sweetly. “Thanks beautiful.”

“You two mind go getting a room, because I can’t stand that new couple shit. Makes me nauseous.” Mochi groans.

“Agreed,” everyone said in unison.

[dragonstoners]

𝖆𝖊𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖉 𝖈𝖗𝖚𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖔𝖓 𝖆 𝖓𝖔𝖇𝖑𝖊𝖜𝖔𝖒𝖆𝖓 | 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖓𝖘

18+ | Minors DO NOT INTERACT | Ageless blogs will be blocked

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: aemond targaryen x reader

𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌: canon-typical misogyny, emotional manipulation, power imbalance, toxic relationships

𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖘: f!reader, noble!reader, obsessive!aemond, toxic!aemond

⁃ it starts off strange, naturally. aemond’s way of showing interest is like a game of cyvasse, where you don’t know you’re playing until you’re losing.

⁃ he begins by throwing words like daggers, seeing which ones will stick, as well as which ones will miss. “courtesy is often the cloak of deceit,” he says one day as you pass by, eyes sharp, challenging you to disagree. you’re left pondering his intentions, unsure if this is disdain or a warning. you're not even sure he knows your name, but he's got his eye on you, that much is clear.

⁃ all of his tests are subtle at first, almost imperceptible… at least to everyone else. during a meeting including your house, he undercuts your suggestions with a smirk, “is that the best wisdom we can muster?” making you doubt your voice, your place. yet, when others join in the critique, his dissent stops, a silent barrier against the tide.

⁃ he starts to frequent areas of the red keep you're known to visit, under the guise of random meanderings or pressing royal duties. his presence is always pronounced, a storm cloud in a serene sky, yet he never directly acknowledges you unless absolutely necessary. when he does speak to you, his words are a mix of backhanded compliments and critiques designed to unsettle, to pull your attention and push you away all at once.

⁃ he tests the waters with questions that cut close to bone, speaking in riddles of his kin and house, gauging your reaction below a veneer of idle curiosity. "and what do you say of the whispers about my brother?" he asks, his gaze sharp, searching, every one of your words and expressions a stone in the foundation of this game he’s you’re both playing.

⁃ he’s watching, always, from the corners of rooms, from across courtyards, his gaze a heavy thing. you start to feel it, the weight of his attention, in every place you go. “you seem to find yourself in my path quite often,” he remarks, a statement that makes it seem less like coincidence and more like an invisible thread pulling you into his orbit.

⁃ at a court event, a bard mishandles a tale of your house’s valour, rendering it comically rather than heroic. while others laugh, aemond's eyes find yours across the room, his gaze sharp and assessing. later, you hear the bard has been given a generous sum to leave king's landing — and the realization that aemond might have been defending your honour, in his own convoluted way, leaves you bewildered.

⁃ only next, he's once again all about putting you in the spotlight for the wrong reasons. during a dinner, he casually asks if you truly believe in the tales of old valyria, making your opinion sound naive in front of everyone. it's like he enjoys seeing you squirm, but when you catch his gaze, there’s something else there, maybe respect?

⁃ after a particularly sharp exchange, you wander the quieter halls of the red keep, mulling over aemond’s pointed remarks. “is loyalty not our greatest virtue?” had left his lips with a smirk. his words had a sting, intended for you in a room full of eyes and whispers. it wasn’t just the comment but the public questioning of your loyalty that left a bitter taste. it’s the solitude afterwards that weighs heavily, making you question where the line between loyalty and a noose truly lies.

⁃ then, when you're about ready to write him off as a typical targaryen prince, toying with you for amusement and not much different from his elder brother, small things begin to happen. a finely-made bone comb appears amongst your things, no note, nothing to indicate it’s origins. it's truly beautiful, haunting almost. none of your household maids know where it has come from. you do not think about it again, until your maid casually notes the comb is in fact made of dragon-bone whilst she brushes out your hair one evening, and your heart drops.

⁃ when news reaches you of a lord questioning your place at court behind your back, nothing comes of it. no confrontation, no public defence. however, the lord's aspirations wither as if touched by frost; his allies turn away, his influence ebbs, and he is left to the cold mercy of court politics. you never explicitly see aemond act, but the timing is enough for you to know he is responsible.

⁃ the cloak follows, materialising on a chilly evening, draped over your chair, with no explanation. the craftsmanship is impeccable, finer than anything you’ve ever owned. it’s the colours that give him away – shimmering greenish blue with bronze detailing adorning the hood, unmistakably the colours of vhagar, etched into your memory from watching in wonder as aemond took her to the skies above the keep. when he sees you wrapped in the cloak, his smirk is a tell. "gevie," he mumbles, almost begrudgingly, before he’s speaking with a nearby lord as if you do not exist. (later, you discover he had said beautiful in high valyrian, after hours upon hours of scouring language books in the library.)

⁃ when you confront him about it later, his only response is a cryptic, “it suits you,” his eye glinting with something like satisfaction. the ambiguity of the comb was one thing, but the cloak is a statement. he sees it, you wearing it, as an unspoken acceptance of his claim, a mark of his territory, even if only known to him, and now you.

⁃ but even with the dragon-bone comb brushing along your scalp and the cloak wrapping you in its warmth, aemond’s tests don’t cease. they become more direct, more challenging. he questions your judgments, pushes you to defend your beliefs, each instance a gauntlet thrown at your feet. “prove me wrong,” he dares, and every time you rise to the challenge, it feels like a victory and a defeat, all at once.

⁃ his kinder actions aside, he's still a storm, a dragon at heart, unpredictable and restless. one moment, he's pushing you away with a cutting remark about how easily charmed you are by shiny things, the next, he's singling out anyone who dares speak lowly of you, though he'd never admit it's defence.

⁃ at a small gathering in the courtyard, a long-standing court noble sidles up to you, their voice low and laced with mock concern. “he’s got his eye on you, hasn’t he?” the words linger, unsettling in their ambiguity and specificity. you pause, the realization that your identity is becoming entwined with aemond’s reputation unsettling you. aemond has never hinted at any interest directly, nor publicly, yet his actions speak volumes, and, you realise in that moment, it’s not solely obvious to you anymore. soon after the incident, you find out that same noble has suddenly, unexpectedly, and without formal reason, returned to the seat of their house.

⁃ his idea of openly flirting with you? challenging you to a horse race when he falls into stride with you during a royal hunting trip in the kingswood, under the guise of proving your recklessness. "i believed you too fragile, my lady," he teases, goading you into proving him wrong once again. his singular attention on you, which is no longer lost on the court, is both infuriating and exciting.

⁃ challenging aemond becomes an unexpected thrill, not only during a ride but over a map of disputed borders laid out in the council chamber. “might there be room for diplomacy?” you suggest, the words hanging boldly between you. his look is sharp, a mix of annoyance and something vaguely resembling admiration. it’s a small victory, asserting your voice amidst the power plays of court.

⁃ at a feast, when you catch him observing from across the room, there’s a moment where the world narrows to just the two of you. later, as he escorts you to the far-side of the keep to your quarters (with his kingsguard and your maid as chaperones) he openly negs you about your taste in music, literature, the arts, but always in a way that demands a response, a defense. it’s exhausting, exhilarating, maddening.

⁃ the tension between public perception and private truths comes to a head when a rumor reaches you about aemond defending your honour in your absence, against a council member nonetheless, stirring a complex mix of emotions. confronting him leads to a terse exchange, “i can defend myself” you start, watching his reaction closely. his reply is noncommittal, a shrug that does little to clarify his intentions, leaving you to question the nature of his interest. it’s this dance of half-truths and veiled motivations that keeps you wary, even as court intrigue pulls you deeper.

⁃ but within weeks, at a ball, his behaviour is so uncharacteristic of his typical self-seriousness that it has prince aegon downright gleeful in his amusement, and queen alicent looks as if she’s seen a ghost. aemond is seen drinking, whispering with others, occasionally even laughing. however, his eye never strays far from you, always positioning himself where he could get to you if he so pleased. he dances and flirts with a handful of ladies other than you, but each step seems a performance, deliberate and pointed. later, he privately comments on how predictable such events are, subtly relishing in your sulky expression and stiff responses.

⁃ jealousy becomes a tool after that, a sharpened blade wielded with precision, but only ever at you. he’s seen in the company of the most eligible ladies of the court, only to cast them aside with a cold indifference as you approach. "mere court games," he scoffs when you question it, but the message is clear, and the music, testing the lengths of your interest.

⁃ if your gaze lingers on another, noble or common-born, their fortune subtly wanes and they suddenly seem… less. aemond doesn't openly compete; still, pieces move, fall and retreat in a carefully woven net of doubts and second guesses, a whisper here, a look there, enough to make rivals for your affection run for cover without a word spoken against them.

⁃ more gifts arrive, still with no indication of their sender, but layered with meaning; a book on war strategy with passages underlined and notes in the margin, a brooch echoing both the targaryen and hightower sigil, as well as a sapphire necklace that you do not understand the connection of, yet – each gift a tangible tether to him. aemond does not react when he sees you with his gifts, except for looking vaguely pleased with himself, which is hardly out of the ordinary. however, his grandsire otto does a double-take as you pass him in the hall whilst wearing the sapphire one, and soon after queen alicent is personally inviting you to ladies luncheons and visits to the sept with her pious entourage, rarely accepting your attempts to decline.

⁃ suddenly, your opinions, your insights become valuable to aemond. "what would you do?" he asks at point blank, unexpectedly. he is not simply testing your loyalty or competence anymore, but also making you a co-conspirator in his plans, a shared counsel that blurs the line between advisor and confidante, drawing you deeper into his web.

⁃ there are also more guards being stationed in the spaces you regularly inhabit, silent sentinels who only seem to materialise with your presence. a guard, often enough a kingsguard, is seemingly always readily available to escort you to wherever you wish to go, whenever you wish to go. that in itself is a privilege few ladies are afforded, if not a confirmation that this newfound surveillance protection is aemond’s doing.

⁃ even if you pretend not to, you don’t miss the way select servants follow you from one of your duties to the next under the pretence of cleaning spotless floors. more concerning are the shadows and faint footsteps that you notice on occasion. a silent assertion of his presence in your life, protective yet possessive. it’s there in the corridors you walk, the gardens you frequent, a reminder of his reach, his interest, a silent witness to your virtue and a deterrent to your vices.

⁃ the isolation comes gradually. “they do not see you, not truly,” aemond whispers during a stolen moment, his surprisingly warm fingers grazing your cheek. these days, he casts doubt on the intentions of those around you, proudly and indiscriminately. it’s a not-so subtle tug away from the crowd, toward him, towards his house, towards the brewing civil war, and the frightening thing is, it works. he had spun a web, complex and suffocating, around you deftly, and you had not seen the delicate strands until it was too late; you find yourself seeking his company, his approval, even as you bristle at his methods.

⁃ so when he corners you under the cover of moonlight, asking, “what is it you want?” it feels like the culmination of a long, intricate dance. it’s a challenge, a confession, a turning point. his question isn’t just about desire; it’s about allegiance, about choosing sides in a game you never agreed to play. the gifts, the challenges, the protection, the whispers, the barbed words — all of it binds you to him in a way that’s impossible to ignore. and you realise, with a mix of dread and fascination, that you’re too entangled to simply walk away.

𝖉𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖗𝖘 © do not copy, repost or translate my works without my permission

thank you for reading – feedback and requests are welcome x

→ 𝖘𝖊𝖓𝖉 𝖆 𝖑𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗 🕊️

[heyhihellosworld]

𝗛𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁!

Pt 2 Pt 3

Mason Mount x reader

Word count: 4.5k, this is the longest one i've written so far

Summary: A quick bathroom fuck never hurt no one. Right?

Warnings: Fluff, Smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it)

Notes: Had fun writing this but didn't quite turn out the way I wanted. Plus I can't write Jack's accent so just pretend it's his talking lol and also smut is really hard to write so sorry for it, just couldn't skip it

"Oh my" you sighed, shaking your head at your brother. You were sprawled out on the couch, listening to Jack who hadn't stopped ranting for the last thirty minutes.

"Jack, come on man" you laughed, flicking his forehead with your fingers and ignoring his grimace. "I know what to do, I have been to games before. I won't go outside the box in game-time and I will see you later on" you summarized his rant with a pointed expression.

"I know you have, it's just... It was a long time ago and I just want ya to be safe" he sighed, standing up and heading to the kitchen, filling a bottle with water. "And you forgot one thing"

You scoffed at him, leaning your head back against the couch with a sarcastic chuckle "Oh wow, I'm so sorry how could I forget"

"Don't apricate the tone"

You laughed for real this time, meeting his playful eyes from across the room "I won't fuck any of your teammates Jack"

He hummed in appreciation of your words but couldn't help but fill in "any footballers"

"I won't fuck your teammats Jack" you declared, making him grunt "what, no no, no footballers" "That's mean!" you argued but he shook his head

You raised your eyebrows at him in a daring way "Either way you agree with no teammates or I will fuck all of your teammates" you threatened halfheartedly, eyes narrowing at his face.

"Fine" he sighed, giving up. It wasn't like you planned on fucking any of them, at least not tonight but you still felt good having won that small battle.

"Okay well are you ready?" he asked, making you jerk your head up from the couch "What? But it's like three hours to the game" you protested, not being ready at all.

"Well yeah, but if you wanna go you need to go with me and I have to be there in twenty minutes" "Why can't I just take an uber?" you questioned but stood up anyway, you knew this was a battle he would win and you were not ready to go yet. "No, just go get ready" Jack chuckled as you sprinted up the stair of his house. You had moved in with your brother a few days ago after having come home from studying in France for the last three years.

You had always been close, it only being three years between the two of you meant you had grown up really close. So when you announced you wanted to move back to England this year he had opened his home for you immediately, pleading you to live with him rather than your parents until you found a job and arranged a living on your own.

You sprinted to the bathroom, brushing your hair and whipping up some mascara before changing into a simple outfit, a hoodie and jeans since you were gonna wear his shirt later on anyways. Since Jack was always late so you didn't hurry your ass too much but took your time.

When you emerged from the stairs fifteen minutes later he was sprawled out on the couch smiling as you walked towards him, standing up and giving you a side hug. "I really missed you ya know" he hummed a smile taking over your face "well I have missed you to Jack"

He messed your hair around in a loving manner before you both tied your shoes and made your way to his car. He lived close to the arena and considering it was a home game it was only a fifteen minutes drive.

"I bet you'll start on the bench if you'r late" you hummed jokingly "nah, not when I got you with me" Jack grinned "Plus I warned them about it yesterday so don't worry, you won't miss me on the pitch, you will get to live your dream"

You smiled at him, "wow, how nice"

He grinned back at you, he looked just the same he had always done, of course he looked a lil more mature and manly then when he was a kid but not much had changed. He had the same strong face, same long stroppy hair and the same humor and personality. Never failing to make you smile.

"So, what will I do for five hours?" Jack shrugged "I don't know, entertain yourself"

"Are you gonna leave me on a bench?" you joked dramatically but when he shrugged you gasped "Jack Peter Grealish you are not leaving me like that!"

"Don't middle name me"

"Well don't leave me on a bench for five hours then!"

"I haven't done anything yet! We are in the car for fucks sake"

"Okay okay" you giggled "I'm gonna follow you around"

"You can not follow me into the changing room"

"Well fine, I can understand that but otherwise"

"Yeah, yeah, just don't get on ma nerves" he grunted, already regretting talking you into going with him.

"As you bed you lay" you grinned, messing his hair up to his dismay, grimace spreading over his features as he tried to fix his looks before you rolled up to the parking lot. There were already a couple of fans outside, wanting to talk to Jack and he was nice enough to wave his window down, sign some shirts and talk a little to the fans before excusing himself and driving into the private part of the park.

"Okay, behave now" he scolded playfully, your eyes rolling at his manner. "Oi! I saw that!"

You rolled your eyes again with a smile on your lips, ignoring his yelp and climbing out of the car. "Just go in Jack"

You walked after him into the building, he had a meet up with the team and then they walked to the pitch. It wasn't actually five hours but more like two-three hours until kickoff.

You didn't want to actually hang off him all day because you knew he needed to get into his mood as well so you opted to go directly to the arena and climbed up in the middle of the stand. It had been a long time since you were there last. You had grown up with the same passion for football as your brother but had never acted on it. You loved it but you didn't want it to be your job, only your hobby.

You had stopped playing as a teen and then opted to play only for fun in the garden with Jack or someone else when the opportunity came up. Even though you hadn't been here and watched his games you hadn't missed a single one of his since you moved. But you had to admit that sitting here beat the couch. Even empty the atmosphere was awesome.

You studied the players as they walked onto the pitch. It was an awesome game today, City against Chelsea. You didn't know that many players outside of City but Chelsea were a good team that you knew. Plus you had always had an extra eye for a few players at Chelsea.

Soon the players started to tumble onto the pitch. You spotted Jack walking with Phil, humming along each other and laughing, probably a stupid joke of Jack's.

Your air-pods buzzed by the sounds of your playlist whilst you just observed. Soon dark blue clothed players started to come onto the pitch as well, greeting some of the city players before focusing.

You let your eyes fleet around, naming the players you knew by name which was close to everyone. You knew a few of them personally but it was mostly Villa players you had met.

Suddenly your eyes stuck on one of the Chelsea players. He stuck out to you, not because he looked special or weird he just... stuck out. He had headphones on and looked really into his zone. Fair brown fluffy hair stuck out messily around the headphones and he had a slight scruff covering his chin. He was more than handsome.

Your eyes followed him around as he walked, stopping after a while to talk to Jack and a few other City players. You couldn't put a name to his face.

The idea of asking Jack about him traveled into your mind but you quickly waved the idea out of your head. He would never tell you if he got the impression you thought he was good looking.

As you stared at his movements he suddenly looked up at you, meeting your eyes with a concentrated look. You froze in your seat, shit had he noticed you staring. You tried to play it off but didn't move your eyes from him, mirroring the grin he gave you as he had spotted you.

His tongue poked out from the side of his mouth, swiping over his bottomlip before he followed his teammates off the pitch and back down the tunnel.

-

"Hey, you fell asleep?"

Your head snapped around to the tunnel where Jack's head poked out. "No no, just calm here" you hummed

Jack chuckled, nodding. Okay I just wanted to check on you, people are starting to come now so get away from there. We will start warming up in ten"

You nodded, walking down from the stand and into the tunnel where they were already preparing for the public. You squeezed yourself past and walked with Jack into the tunnel. "Hey, can I get coffee?" you pulled your cutest face, blinking at him while he rolled his eyes. "Sure, let me just check they are all dressed" he grunted, leaving you in the stairs. "Fine, come in" Jack gruffed, holding the door open for you into the city area of the building.

You waved trough the opening at the players who all greeted you back before taking a cup and making yourself some coffee while Jack looked at you with crossed arms. You weren't new to his teammates. During your French years you had been home to visit and met most of them. It had become known that where Jack went you went too. He was protective and always wanted to have you under his sight when there were a lot of people around.

"So, in ten minutes it's warm up so you gotta get to the box and please-" "I won't leave the box Jack" you sighed, rolling your eyes. "Calm down, It'll be fine"

"Little Grealish" John grinned, cutting off your conversation with Jack as he engulfed you in a hug "ah hi Stones, how are ya?"

"All good, what about you? Haven't seen you for a long time"

"I'm all good" you smiled "Jack said you moved back here?"

You nodded, sipping your coffee "Yeah, earlier this week, I finished my studies so it felt like the right decision"

"Well that's really nice, maybe I will see you around a little more than?" he grinned making Jack cough beside you "Yeah you sure will" you smiled, not missing the wink he threw you before going back to his seat.

"No" Jack grunted before you had even had the time to look at him. Laughter spilled out of your mouth before you could stop it "What"

"No, not gonna happen he is old plus he is my teammate"

You chuckled, leaning against his side "Don't worry Jack, I'm not into Stones, plus he has a girlfriend"

"Didn't seem to stop him" he grunted "Maybe not but it stops me. You don't have to be so tense Jack. I can take care of myself and I won't sleep with your teammates, I promised"

"Okay, Okay" he sighed, giving up on the argument. "Anyway, I'm just gonna fill this up and then i'll go. Good luck" you smiled, kissing his cheek before shouting a collective good luck and moving to your seat.

It was packed in the stadium already, people bussing for an hopefully exciting game. You smiled as you saw him jog up the pitch in his light blue set. Hair flopping as he ran. But soon your eyes changed direction as dark blue clothed men started to jog into the other half of the pitch.

Your eyes immediately found him, he looked ridiculously hot in his set, hair flopping a little and tongue again poking out from his lips. You noticed he was popular by the way the arena started buzzing as he did something towards them but yet you couldn't put your finger on who he was. You followed City and some national teams but not more than that. It was what you had time for.

The whole game your eyes seemed to fleet back to the brunette. He played really well and you caught yourself cheering when he scored a goal. Stopping quickly as you realized your betrayal.

Jack played really good too, creating a lot on his side and almost scoring a goal.

When the final whistle blew it was 3-2 to City and you cheered as the team waved up to the stands, clapping their hands to thank the public. You quickly slipped down to Jack again, just as he had told you too. All players had gone into the changing rooms so you sat down on the top of the stairs. Resting your back against the wall.

You were kinda tired, it had been an early morning and there was always a lot of tension and excitement during the game, a tension that was let off and left tiredness.

You went on your phone, sighing at all the notifications and shutting it again.

"Are you lost?"

You flinched, almost losing balance at the voice. Your head almost snapped off as you looked at the man who stood on the top of the stairs, looking down at you with a small smirk.

You felt your face heat up as you saw the familiar face of the handsome Chelsea player. "Ah, no" you said, your voice coming out choked and hurried. You cursed yourself, forcing yourself to calm down and act cool despite how ridiculously hot this man was.

"Really because usually fans aren't allowed to be here, how did you even get here?" "Ah you know I just climbed over the wall" you said in ironic voice, loving the smile that lit up his face

"So noticing tre sarcasm I'm guessing you're allowed here"

"Yeah" you breathed "My brother is playing on the team" you clarified making him hum in recognition "I see, i'm guessing city?" he grinned, looking down at your light blue shirt you had pulled on over your hoodie. "Yeah"

"Mase come on man!"

Mason looked back over his shoulder where one of his teammates shouted after him "Ah shit, I need to go. Pleasure to meet you..." "y/n"

"Ah, Mason" he greeted, shaking your hand awkwardly as you chuckled "MASON!"

"I'm coming!"

He bid farewell, jogging out the tunnel to grab something before winking at you as he went past up the stairs and into the changing room again.

You felt as if your whole body flushed as you looked after him, shaking your head at how you were acting. He was a normal human being for fucks sake. Just ridiculously gorgeous.

"Ah there you are" Jack grinned as he walked out into the hall, grinning widely, his hair all dripping wet. "Congratulations" you grinned, hugging him shortly before pulling off, not wanting to get soaked by him. "Thanks" he grinned with his characteristic smile.

"I'm just gonna go get changed then we're gonna go out for a couple of drinks. I can drop you off if you don't wanna go" "Nah, it sounds fun" you assured, meeting his smile as he slipped inside the changingroom again.

--

The club was packed. Sure it was starting to get into evening time but still, pretty early to get to the club in your opinion. Jack had taken you to a McDonald's after whining you were hungry but he had refused to go home so you could change but after downing your meal you were pretty happy regardless.

It was nice in the club, you talked a little amongst his teammates, drank a little until the clock turned to a more decent time where you began drinking for real. The club started getting busier and more and more alcohol went down your throat. Jack was somewhere unknown so you entertained yourself with Ruben. Someone you'd always found ridiculously attractive but you never acted on it, you wouldn't today either but a lil flirting and teasing didn't hurt.

After a little while you excused yourself to the bar, pushing through a lot of bodies to get to the front. You got your drink and turned around with a sigh, leaning against the side of the bar while sipping on it.

"Did someone ditch you here?"

Your eyes flickered up at the voice you somehow remembered it but couldn't place it until you saw that face again, Mason.

You couldn't hide the grin that spread on your face upon seeing him again, grinning lazily at him. "Hello Mason" you smiled

"No one ditched me, I just wanted some more alcohol" you answered, swirling your glass in front of him whilst he hummed.

"What are you doing here?" you questioned, looking over his shoulder to see if any other Chelsea players were there as well but you couldn't recognize anyone.

"Stones told me they were going and I thought why not, it's not too often i'm in manchester" he answered your question. You nodded in understanding, not really clicking it all together.

"So, what did you think of the game?" "Ah really good, good goal too" you hummed, looking into his brown eyes. He looked so good it felt cruel. He had changed into a simple white tee and dark jeans, his hair still visibly dampened but still styled. You let your tongue swipe over your bottom lip whilst keeping eye contact with him seeing his adam-apple bobble as he swallowed.

"Are you drunk?" he questioned making you chuckle "Nah" you grinned, standing up from the leant back position and downing the remainants of your drink before walking past him, grabbing his arm on the way and pulling him out on the floor.

You began dancing in front of his hungry eyes, the alcohol giving you a lot of confidence. He was as tipsy as you were soon joining you by grabbing your hips, looking intently into your eyes as you smirked, grinding into him more and more for every song.

The heat between you was too much, you couldn't miss it and you couldn't miss the way you felt his hardness through his jeans nor the way he did not so subtle ground into your ass every chance he got.

"I would ask you to go home with me but i'm sleeping at a friends" he revealed making you pout your lips in thought. You couldn't take him home to Jack's, not a chance but you couldn't not fuck him either. Your need for him was too much.

Your eyes lit up as you came up with a solution, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the bathroom.

He chuckled as you locked the door to one of them. "Really?" he laughed, "Well if you don't wanna fuck me-"

He shut you up by kissing you. His lips hungrily meet yours in a mess of teeth and tongue. You knew it was gonna be a messy and hurried fuck but it was all you needed right now. His hands roamed your body, squeezing your figure and feeling you up desperately.

Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging at it slightly as he let out small breathy noises at the contact. Your hands traveled under his t-shirt groaning as you felt his abs under your fingertips.

He broke the kiss only to tug his t-shirt over his head, his hands pushing up your own hoodie to grasp at your breasts. He walked you backwards, hoisting you up on the counter, your head leaning against the mirror as he hungrily kissed up your neck and over your jaw. "You're so sexy" he grunted, leaving a trail of kisses down your throat and up to your jaw again, kissing you hungrily.

You were the one who broke the kiss, grasping at his jeans to hurry things up a little. Let's face it, you were in a public bathroom.

"Okay okay" he chuckled, undoing your pants first before chucking them down your legs and letting them pool on the floor.

His hand moved like on instinct to your pussy, rubbing your clit over the flimsy material. You groaned, tilting your head back, closing your eyes in content. Finally getting what you wanted.

"Hm, that feels good?" he hummed, tone almost lingering on mocking. "Mhm" you moaned, looking at him with warning eyes which he just waved off with a chuckle. You were just about to say something when he gripped your underwear, pulling them off and throwing them next to your jeans.

His fingers created path between your fold, going up and down before two of them slid inside of you. You bit your lip to prevent the moan as he slowly started to move them, hooking them slowly and teasingly against your spot.

"Oh fuck" you groaned, breathing heavily against his ear and eyes threatening to close of pleasure.

Your hand made its way to his jeans, unbuttoning the button and pushing your hand down inside, palming his already hard dick through his boxers. He breathed out a heavy breath, eyelids getting heavy at the relief.

You pushed his underwear off as far as necessary and continued to stroke him, finding it satisfactory how he looked and breathed when you did. He however soon found it necessary to stop you before he would be cumming in your hand.

"Okay, okay" he breathed, pushing your hand away from him. He continued to flick his fingers inside of you a few more times before pulling them out. He pushed the digits into his mouth making you moan at the sight.

He pulled his digits out, chuckling at your reaction with gleeful eyes. His fingers softly brushed a couple of hair strands out of your face as his lips met yours again, this time much softer but still hungry and needy.

You lifted your hips slightly, hurrying him up. He got your signal, grabbing your hips while guiding himself to your opening just as eager as you were.

You couldn't help the moan that left your throat as he pushed in slowly. Your head fell back as your eyes fell closed at the stretch.

"Fuck" you breathed, gripping the edge of the counter harshly, your hips moving on their own to ger yourself used to the feeling of him.

He began slowly, easing you both into it. The alcohol making you both careless and needy, just wanting some sloppy club-bathroom sex.

He soon began to go faster, moving your hips to meet his thrusts, his dick hitting all the perfect spots inside of you with the position you were in. The pace getting more and more desperate for every thrust. "Ah fuck Mason" you groaned, trying to keep your eyes open to watch his reaction as he continued to thrust.

His eyes sparkled in the dim light and his mouth was half-open. Small pants coming out whenever he bottomed out inside of you. He watched your body move, watching how his dick repeatably disappeared inside of you, he watched as your breasts moved and how you bit your lip to not let out the loud moans you had on your tongue.

"Yeah? Feel good?" he hummed, looking cocky at your reactions to his actions. You nodded, not having the energy to put him in his place right now. "Yeah?" he pressed making you roll your eyes "Just shut up and fuck me" you grunted not missing the cocky smile he gave you as he picked up his speed further, thrusting harder into you.

The sound of your skin meeting was loud and you were almost scared someone would hear from outside of the bathroom. You tried to keep your moans in, biting your lip and when it became too much you leaned forward, bracing yourself on his shoulder as you bit the skin where his shoulder and neck met. He let out a slight whine at the mark only speeding up his movements.

"I'm close" he grunted, giving you a heads up. You nodded, kissing up his shoulder and neck while you let one of your hands move between you, rubbing tight circles on your clit. You could feel it building in your lower stomach, on the edge of bursting already. Your head felt dizzy and your eyes rolled at the extra stimulation.

"I'm gonna cum" you warned, rutting your hips against him as he groaned, silencing both of you with a kiss, each of you swallowing the others moans as you came down from your highs. You felt almost high, your eyes squeezing close and a lazy smile on your face. You could feel his legs and tummy clench as he came inside of you. Only then did it occur to you that you hadn't used a condom.

Mason seemed to realize the same thing, looking at you and blinking slowly "Did I just cum inside of you?"

You chuckled, leaning your head back against the mirror "It seems like it"

"Oh shit, I'm sorry-"

"I am on the pill, it should be fine" you dismissed, patting his shoulder reassuringly whilst he nodded at you, relief filling his eyes.

He slowly moved to slip out of you resting his forehead on your shoulder while you both tried to regain your breaths. "Maybe we should get out of here" you whispered, letting your lips ghost over his.

He nodded, meeting your eyes with a sweet smile before kissing you slowly, his tongue sweetly intertwining with yours.

When you parted you reached out to grab some paper towels from beside you, cleaning yourself up as he did the same.

He handed you your clothes and you quickly fixed yourself up, untangling your hair with your fingers before you nodded at him.

You stood up from the counter, buttoning your jeans before unlocking the door.

You stopped in your tracks seeing Jack casually leaned back against the wall as if he was waiting for you "Hey, there ya are, I thought you had drunken too much" he grinned

"I-uh" you stuttered, wincing as you felt Mason press into your back, his face snapping up as he saw that you were talking to someone.

Jack's mouth fell open, eyes fleeting between the two of you before he opened his mouth

"Hey! We said no teammates!" he exclaimed, looking at you accusingly.

"He is not your teammate!" You defended looking stroppily at him

"Yes he is!" "What, no he is in Chelsea!" You uttered in confusion. "England y/n, he is in England" Jack spoke calmly, his voice flat as he looked at you.

"Oh fuck"

[thestorycomesalive]

And I Would Do it Again

George Weasley x Reader

Summary: When you stick up for George in front of your whole Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Professor Umbridge has a certain consequence in mind for you.

Angst and Fluff, Hurt/Comfort.

TW: Mentions of Blood

****

“Eh hem, Mr. Weasley,” hummed a trilling voice from behind the tall red head next to you.

“Professor?” George raised an eyebrow to the pink clad woman behind him, wondering what in the world the small, angry lady could possibly want. Afterall, he hadn’t done anything wrong. And he knew better than to test her at this point. Or at least he knew his limits. Ron had told him of the tragic events that took place in Harry’s detention. Ever since then, he and his twin brother had gotten quieter and cleverer about pulling their tricks around school. Of course, they hadn’t stopped altogether. George wouldn’t be George without his pranks. But George knew he couldn’t get detention. Not out of a kindness for himself, but rather for your sake. He knew you’d worry too much.

But this time, he hadn’t done anything to provoke Professor Umbridge. He racked his brain for a moment, but he couldn’t think of one thing that would call her attention to him.

“You have received a generous amount of our class time today to complete your writing assignment, and while even Ms. L/N next to you has come up with a few paragraphs, you seem to have nearly nothing on your page. Care to explain what you’ve been up to all of this time?” The woman teetered to the front of your table, peering down at George.

He gave her a look of disbelief. “Well, it is not for lack of trying. I just have a hard time learning on paper. And you don’t let us use our wands,” he pointed out.

She giggled a single, ugly giggle. “Mr. Weasley… I can’t say I’m surprised. Afterall, I have come to expect less than from you. You shouldn’t need your wand to learn. Perhaps it is time for you to accept the fact that your own stupidity is to blame for your shortcomings. I really do my very best, but some students are just purely unteachable.” She hummed the last part to herself, shaking her head.

Your eyes shot up to her instantly. You had been watching her for some time, but in this instance, your eyes had been on the boy next to you, offering looks of kindness and sympathy without words. But now you were angry. Practically fuming. “Excuse me,” you muttered sharply, grabbing her attention with a whip of her head. “That is not, in any way, fair or warranted. George is one of the smartest people I know.” Your eyes were shooting darts at her as a piercing, condescending smile crept up to her ears.

“Ms. L/N. Talking out of turn will not be tolerated in my classroom. Especially not when it is used to talk back to your superiors,” she huffed.

You felt the smallest sensation of George’s pinky finger entwining with yours, as he tried to simmer down some of the anger, he knew was bubbling within you. You sighed and decided to leave the subject, having said your piece.

“You shall not question my knowledge and wisdom in any sense. If I say he is stupid, he is stupid, and if I say you are a flying Niffler, well then, you must be a flying Niffler. Do you understand, young lady?” she grinned, clearly having been satisfied with what she thought was winning the argument. You feel the heat and anger rising even higher than before at the mention of the sweet boy next to you. And then you finally realized what it is she was asking of you. She was asking you to agree with her cruel assumption about your George in front of the whole class. She cocks an eyebrow in the air with a wild smirk on her face. The rage pools over as you finally let it escape your mouth.

“No. I do not. I do not understand how you can call someone so bright and creative stupid, simply because you lack the skills and empathy to teach them what you would like them to know. Or because their knowledge simply extends beyond concepts that you can understand. You might not agree with me, Professor, but not everyone is like you. Not everyone wants to sit in a dark room and just pretend to learn for the rest of their lives. You want to give me detention, Professor? Fine. But I will not stand by while you abuse really great wizards, let alone, the ones that I love.” You cock your eyebrows back at her, knowing she has you right where she wants you. You don’t have a care in the world as the steam almost rises from your ears. It is now you notice that George’s hand had moved from your pinky to your wrist, gently trying to stop you from making the decision you had just made, his eyes pleading with yours with a gentle sadness and slight shock. However, for the briefest moment, you thought you could make out the tiniest glimpse of pride pass his eyes at the same time.

“Detention, Ms. L/N. I will not have anyone tell me how to teach in my classroom or question my abilities and judgement as a witch. Let alone someone so new to magic, as yourself.” She smiled smugly as she returned to the front of the classroom continuing her lesson immediately, not giving George or you a chance to respond to her. It was this act that left George hunting her down with a glare that could kill for the rest of the class, hand still in yours.

****

George spent every moment away from you that day, skipping his classes, trying in every way to get himself detention with Umbridge as well. However, every attempt ended with a quiet humph and scolding from her filled with cruel and nasty words. It was clear that even though she dreadfully wanted to, she was not going to give in and give George the detention he so desperately desired. She knew his punishment would be far more effective if she let you suffer and put him in a position where he would not be able to do anything about it whatsoever. It was the only time that he had the freedom to do nearly anything he wanted at Hogwarts, to break almost any rule he wanted to break, and get away with it. The painful irony is, he hated every second of it.

*****

Your detention arrived quickly that night when the corridors of the castles quieted. You had spent all day since your class with Umbridge quiet by George’s side. On the moments that you would be separated, you would go find a place in the Gryffindor Common Room to sit and wait for him to return from his classes or what you thought must be prank trials with Fred. But you weren’t worried about your detention like most people probably assumed you had been. Hell, you probably should’ve been. No. You were furious. Furious at Umbridge for targeting George, furious at her for backing you into a corner until you couldn’t take it anymore, furious at her for hurting Harry, furious at her for getting away with all of the terrible things she has done… furious.

When darkness befell the Common Room, only George, Fred, Lee, and you remained. You hadn’t told Harry or anyone else about your detention. You didn’t want him to worry. However, Fred and Lee, of course, had known of your soon-to-be punishment, considering they had been in the class when you received it. When you left the classroom, George pulled you into his side protectively and Lee had given you proud pat on the shoulder. With an exaggerated wink, Fred had run up and exclaimed, “Blimey, that was amazing, L/N! Nice craftsmanship, excellent execution.” Fred had tried to wipe some of the anger from your face throughout the day with a few, “don’t mess with that one, she’s fiery” and “Oi, Lee, careful. Catch yourself even looking at ol’ Georgie too long, and you might have to answer to that one,” with a point in your direction. These usually earned a genuine, soft smile from you as you chuckled to yourself. Freddie was the one person in the world who could make any person laugh no matter the circumstances. George would blush, and if he saw you laughing, he would also laugh to himself at the mention of the last joke from Fred. Part of you wondered if he may have enjoyed feeling your protectiveness over him. And you didn’t mind. You liked that he liked it. Even now.

But as the four of you sat late in the quiet Common Room, you felt the jokes wash away as George twiddled with his fingers, your head on his chest. You could tell he was feeling worried and helpless as you waited for your time to leave for detention. When that time came, you gave them a gentle smile and said, “Alright, I’m off. I’ll see you guys in the morning. Don’t go worrying about me too much.” You gave Fred and Lee a wink and kissed the top of George’s head.

As if on instinct, George grabbed your hand, pleading with his face, as if he were trying to keep you from going. But he knew that if you did not show up tonight, it would only earn you an even bigger punishment with the nasty, pink-shoed woman later. You took his hand and held it to your cheek as you gave him a little smile and whispered, “I love you. Goodnight.” And off you went, George watching your back as you left.

*****

As you creaked through the half open door of Umbridge’s office, you heard her squeal in delight. She toned out, “Do come in, Ms. L/N.”

You walked in without a word, eyes piercing through the small woman as she continued. “I do hope tonight will serve you nicely. You will be writing lines for me, dear.” You nodded your head, eyes still shooting at the Professor. This is what you had expected to hear from her. “Take a seat. There is a quill and parchment already for you at the desk there.”

 You took a seat at the desk she pointed to as she tutted. “Hmm… What lesson is to be learned tonight, do you think?” You, of course, didn’t answer. “There are many lessons I believe you could benefit from learning, Ms. L/N, but I have chosen to be generous to you, for reasons unbeknownst to me. I believe the lines, ‘I will learn my place and be respectful to my superiors’, will do just fine.”

 Your mouth dropped. You were expecting to write lines, and you knew the pain that would come with that, but you had not expected the number of words she would give you to write to be so extensive. You only prayed that the number of lines she would have you complete would be less, to even out your sentence to compare to the stories you had heard from others, including Harry. You dared to ask. “How many- “

“One hundred,” she interrupted without hesitation.

You nodded, eyes still a bit wide from shock. You assumed that you had really struck a nerve with your defiance towards Umbridge. Afterall, why else would your sentence be nearly double that of any other student you have heard from so far? You figured that you also were being used as punishment towards those you loved as well. Those who have also unmeaningly struck a nerve of Umbridge’s too: Harry and George. But you wouldn’t be used as bait. No, you quite refused to be used as such.

As you dared to hover the dry quill over the paper, you prepared yourself for the pain that would inevitably begin once you touched them down to meet. And when it did, the pain was one hundred times more unbearable than you had even begun to imagine, just like the number of lines you were to complete.

By the time you had arrived halfway through your assignment, blood was dripping down your fingertips, drenching your parchment along with the tears crawling down your face. Finally, soft whimpers that you had tried to hold back for so long, began to escape.

 The clock ticking echoed in your ears, taunting your brain with the idea of freedom. After what felt like an eternity, you had finished the lines, and you were a both dry and wet bloodied mess. You sat up from your seat and handed the now quiet professor your scarlet stained parchment full of scratches reading, “I will learn my place and be respectful to my superiors”, front and back.

“May I leave now?” you uttered.

She simply nodded with a conniving grin plastered on her face as she watched you walk out the door.

*****

You held your breath until you arrived back past the portrait into the Gryffindor Common Room, not wanting that evil woman to hear you cry. When you stepped into the room, you pressed your back to the cold wall next to you and grabbed your wrist, blood flow never-ending, and finally let the tears and sobs escape you, as your back fell down the wall. You were so blinded by the pain that you didn’t even notice there was someone in the room with you. They ran up from the couch, over to your place by the wall, and sat right next to you, pulling you into their lap. From the moment you discovered the figure, your brain and your heart knew it would be your George. Part of you had a feeling he wouldn’t sleep until you were back, and you didn’t want him to see you like this. You fought your brain which told you that you were allowing yourself to be the live weapon that Umbridge wanted you to be. You just hadn’t expected the pain to be so much. You hadn’t expected that you would collapse right in front of George. You so desperately wanted to be strong. To stay strong for him. For yourself. But, oh merlin, did it hurt.

His big arms wrapped around your shoulders and brought his hand to pull your bloodied one into his line of sight. His breathing hitched and he felt his blood run to his cheeks and his ears as his other hand clenched into a fist. He was seeing red at the extra bloodied hand you fostered, much worse than he had ever seen, even on Harry. But the rage he felt was nothing compared to the crunch of his heart splitting in two as your cries of pain reached his ears. He didn’t know what to do, he felt so helpless, just as he had all day, but a million times worse.

“Darling, I know. I’m so sorry. I’m- I’m so sorry. Please. Please, I have to wrap this. You have to let me wrap this,” he struggled, pleading with you.

Your head heard his words, and it told you to move, to stop crying, to say something. But your skin was on fire, and the roar of the flames outspoke the language of your brain trying to reason with your body. You were able to lean your head into his shoulder, as you tried to compose yourself as best as you could, but the best you could do was quiet your sobs ever so slightly, as any and all words fell silent in the back of your throat. Your tears soaked through his shirt and coated his upper arm that still held you. He began to take his arms and pull himself up, untangling himself from you. He moved to sit on his knees in front of you, eyes searching for yours as he tilted your chin up to look at him.

“My love. Please. I need to wrap your hand. Can I bring you to the couch?” he asked, peering through your eyes for an answer.

You slightly nodded your head, barely noticeable. But George, he saw it. He always saw it. He could read you better than anyone in the world. The moment he saw your head move, he scooped his arm under your bent legs and placed his other one across your back and under your arms. You turned your head into his shoulder as he gently move to place you on the couch, your back pressed to the arm of the chair. You pulled your knees up on the couch, moving your heels to touch your bottom. Splayed out across the table in front of you were bandages and a wrap for your hand. As the tears began finding themselves more and more scarce at the hope of relief, the smaller of the words at the back of your throat began to find their way out.

“Georgie?” you asked, coming out in a high-pitched whimper.

His deep, worrying eyes looked to you, hands finding your cheeks. He followed your eyes to the table and the equipment laying on it. An embarrassed blush came to his cheeks as his brows furrowed. Supplies. It was pathetic, he thought. He should’ve been the one being punished. But instead, it was you and there was absolutely nothing he could do except for find some simple supplies. Unable to even think about sleeping, he had snuck his way over to Madame Pomfrey in the medical wing as soon as you had exited the Common Room. He asked her for some supplies and after more than a lot of convincing that everything was okay and that he wasn’t up to anything that would get her in trouble, she suspiciously obliged. He knew you would refuse to see her anyways, not wanting to take up her time. And deep down, he too knew that there was not much she would be able to do for you, no matter how much he begged. Afterall, this was a punishment enacted by Umbridge herself, and no matter how much she wanted to, Pomfrey could not disregard the rules set in place by the self-proclaimed headmaster and inquisitor.

He turns back to you quickly trying to cover the look of shame and guilt on his face.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry,” his voice breaks, tears of his own forming.

You could see him fighting with his own mind over something that you were sure would split your heart right down the middle.

“George?” you squeaked out once more.

“I’m so sorry…It’s my fault. I was behind in class. It should’ve been me. Not you. I should’ve protected you, I-,” he finally lets it all come rushing out.

You cut him off by placing your good hand on his cheek, giving him a difficult and very broken smile. Your voice comes out raspy from the sobs you had forced down but determined now, as soon as you hear the pain in George's own voice. “No. This decision was mine, George. All mine…” you give the faintest of laughs, almost in disbelief. “And yet, I can’t find the mind to regret it… I would do it again… and again.”

He leaned into your touch, eyes wincing as you revealed to him that you would take this punishment and this pain for him once again.

“Look at me?” you whispered.

He brought his eyes up to meet yours. Your voice was a little bit clearer now, although wavering ever so slightly.

“My decision. Please do not take that away from me, Georgie. It was my decision to make, and I am so glad that I did. You are so smart. You know that, right?” You looked up at him from under your eyelashes through the now silent and mild tears that streamed down your face.

He shook his head. He couldn’t bring himself to even begin to describe himself as smart. If that were true, he thought, he would’ve found a way to be there with you. If that were true, you wouldn’t have been there at all. He couldn’t understand, how through all of the terror and pain, you were the one to comfort him. He simply began to unwrap the bandages from their place on the table and started to wrap them tightly around your hand to stop the blood from dripping any longer, a lot of it starting to dry already. When he was finished, you took your good hand and placed it on his cheek once again. You pulled him into a sweet, soft, salty kiss.

“Smart. Clever. Kind. Brave. Gentle,” you muttered these words in his ear as you rested your head on his shoulder, and he once again pulled you into his lap, this time, towards him.

“The strongest girl I know, so beautiful, so loving…,” he muttered back, caressing your hair, trailing off into magical, sweet nothings that mean quite everything to both of you.

“I love you, Georgie,” you whisper.

“I love you, darling,” he says.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” you ask the beautiful, ginger boy that you love so dearly.

“I will always stay with you, my love,” he says as he begins to lift your body from the couch to carry to your dorm. There the two of you find comfort in each other’s embrace, finally drifting off into a deep sleep.

[cyren-myadd]

Can you write a snippet of Quaritch following through with his version of “an old school ass whipping”

Nothing too serious because I don’t think he’d abuse Spider but I do think he’d be the type of parent to resort to physical discipline if pushed enough.

In the exchange between him and Spider, Spider does not seemed alarmed with fear and is actually a little cheeky. I think he’s used to adults just letting him get away with things.

I think it’s be interesting to read Spider’s reaction to an adult/authority figure disciplining him (whether physical or some other punishment) for not following instructions rather than just checking to see if he has not been harmed.

It doesn’t have to relate to him running off which is where Quaritch uses the threat. It could be anything.

Okay, so I know you requested me to write about Quaritch disciplining Spider, but I’ve seen that explored a bunch of times before, and honestly, after what I wrote in Blood Is Thicker Than Water, I’ve kind of gotten a bad taste in my mouth for writing disciplinary scenes involving Quaritch. Idk why, but your ask gave me inspiration for a scene of Jake disciplining Spider instead, and it ended up taking a pretty different direction than your request. Sorry that this isn’t exactly what you requested, but I wanted to write something that I haven’t seen explored by other writers before, so I hope you still enjoy it!

Lucky Number Five (6k words)

One.

Two.

Three.

Jake counted the children in the marui, and then he counted them again. Tuk napped in the back corner of their home, nestled among her blankets. That was one. Lo’ak stood at the entrance of the marui, waving goodbye to Tsireya. That brought the count up to two. In the center, by the cookfire, Kiri helped Neytiri chop fish and vegetables for a stew. That made three.

It had been a week since the battle at Three Brothers Rock, but Jake still had to bite back the instinct to look for number four. His heart told him to count again; told him that if he checked just one more time he would see Neteyam tucking the blankets tighter around Tuk, or playfully teasing Lo’ak, or asking Neytiri if she needed any more help with dinner, but his mind knew better than his heart. No matter how many times he counted, there would never be a number four.

However, he was still missing a number. Jake didn’t know when exactly he started doing this, but at some point in his parenting career, he’d assigned a number to each of his children, and that number was the order in which he would always check on them based on the likelihood that they would need adult supervision. Maybe it was just his way of keeping track of so many kids, or maybe it was some leftover instinct to “sound off” from his Marine days. Whatever the case, the system worked for him. As the youngest and most delicate, Tuk was always the first child he checked on. Coming in second place was Lo’ak, the resident trouble-maker. Number three was Kiri, more responsible than Lo’ak, but still prone to making trouble of her own on occasion. Neteyam, as the oldest and most mature of the bunch, was number four, the last child he checked on because he was the least likely to be in trouble.

One, two, three, four. Jake had sounded off the mental count thousands of times over the years whenever he needed to make sure all of his children were accounted for. But the count didn’t always stop there. Sometimes, not most of the time, but sometimes there was a fifth child on the list, tacked onto the end more out of courtesy than anything.

Jake counted again just to be sure.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Number five was missing.

“Where’s Spider?” He asked the question so suddenly, that it startled everyone. Tuk peered out sleepily from her blankets, and Kiri and Neytiri gave him confused looks from across the cookfire.

“Huh?” Asked Lo’ak as he came to sit down next to Tuk.

“I asked where Spider is. I told all of you to be back home before sundown. It’s almost dark, so where is he?” He directed his question at Kiri, figuring she would be the most likely to know, but all she did was shrug.

“I haven’t seen him since this morning. I’ve been helping Mom and Ronal in the healing marui. I think he said he was going to help Lo’ak with his chores.” She said before turning her attention back to chopping vegetables.

The casual way she answered the question irritated Jake. If Spider wasn’t back by now, it either meant he was willingly disobeying Jake or he was in some kind of trouble. Why was Kiri acting like it was no big deal? His tail started to twitch in frustration as he rounded on Lo’ak. “Have you seen Spider?”

His question came out harsher than he intended it to, making Lo’ak jump slightly. “Uh… yeah, I hung out with him earlier, but he went off with Rotxo in the afternoon. I think he was gonna teach him to spearfish or something?”

“You think?” Jake repeated exasperatedly.

“I dunno, I wasn’t really paying attention.” Lo’ak said, sheepishly playing with the beads on the ends of his braids.

“Yeah, cause you were too busy looking at Tsireyaaa—“ Tuk giggled in a singsong voice.

Lo’ak threw a blanket at her. “I was not!”

An irritated huff left Jake’s lips as he got to his feet. “I’m going to go find him.”

“Ma Jake,” Neytiri’s voice stopped him in his tracks, “dinner is almost ready. Stay and eat with your family. I’m sure the boy is fine.”

“No, I told everyone to be back here before sundown. It’s sundown and he’s not here, so it’s not fine.” Before Neytiri could get another word in, he left the marui, tail lashing behind him with anxiety.

He rushed through the peaceful village, passing Reef Na’vi settling into their homes for the night. The setting sun painted the sky a deep orange, and a chorus of insects created a soothing symphony for the evening. Everything was so calm, surely nothing was really wrong, right? Despite what he tried to tell himself, images of Spider hurt or dead kept flashing through his mind. He was so consumed with his worries that he nearly ran right into Rotxo.

“Oh! Hi, Jake!” Rotxo greeted him cheerfully once he recovered from nearly losing his balance.

“Rotxo, sorry, didn’t see you there. Have you seen Spider?”

“Yeah, I was teaching him how to spearfish by the diving hole. I think he’s still there—“ Rotxo had barely finished pointing in the direction of the diving hole before Jake was off, making a beeline for it.

The longer it took to reach the hole, the faster he went, so he was practically sprinting by the time he reached it. Jake skidded to a stop on the rocky edge of the hole, startling a few small marine ikran into flight. He frantically looked around for any sign of Spider, but the whole place was deserted. The hole was dead still except for the steady undulations of bioluminescent seaweed dancing in the current, and the swaying of the mangrove branches up above. All he could hear was the gentle sound of waves lapping against rock and the occasional cry of a marine ikran. No sign of number five.

“Dammit!” Jake hissed under his breath. His ears flattened against his skull and his tail thrashed like an angry snake. Now he didn’t know what to do. None of the other children seemed to have any idea where Spider was and Rotxo was his last lead. Awa’atlu’s atoll was a massive area full of hiding places, and Spider was one little human. He could be anywhere.

Just before he made up his mind to start searching somewhere else, a soft sound drew his attention. Down the side of the hole directly to his left, a familiar dreadlocked head surfaced amongst the bioluminescent seaweed.

“Spider!” He called, sprinting across the rocks towards him.

At the sound of his name, Spider turned. Underneath the sheen of his mask, his face split into a wide grin and he started swimming to meet him, a child-sized Metkayina speargun in his hand. “Hey, Jake! What’s up?”

Jake knelt on the edge of sea rock and hauled Spider out of the water by the strap of his exopack as soon as he was in reach. He quickly checked Spider over for any sign of injury or damage to his equipment. As far as he could tell, there was none.

“You alright? Where the hell have you been?”

Spider’s grin faded as he took in the panic in Jake’s body language. “Yeah, I’m fine, I was just practicing the spearfishing stuff Rotxo taught me.”

Jake’s shoulders sagged and he let out a deep sigh as a surge of relief overwhelmed him. It lasted for a grand total of five seconds before it was replaced by a rush of anger. He hadn’t been this scared and angry since Lo’ak had gotten lost beyond the reef.

Jake seized Spider by the shoulders and shook him. His voice came out in a low snarl. “What the hell is the matter with you, boy? Have you just been fucking around out here this whole time?”

Spider’s eyes went wide and he tried to recoil, but Jake’s grip was too tight. “Jake, I— wait— did something happen?”

“You almost gave me a heart attack, that’s what happened!” Jake snapped as he got to his feet.

“Jeez, relax, I’m fine, see? Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Spider said as he gathered up his speargun and stood. Before Jake could get another word in, Spider turned on his heel and started walking away.

Jake’s ears went flat against his skull in a mix of shock and anger at the blatant disrespect. Not even Lo’ak in his most rebellious mood would dare to walk away from him when he was being scolded. It took a lot of effort to keep his voice level. “And where do you think you’re going, young man?”

Spider stopped and glanced back at Jake with a bewildered look on his face. “I’m getting back in so I can keep spearfishing?”

Jake crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, are you now?”

“Yeah?”

“And what about dinner?”

“I’ll eat later.”

“And when were you planning to go to bed, huh?”

Spider shrugged. “I dunno. Whenever I guess.”

Without another word, he turned his back on Jake again and got ready to dive into the water. The sheer disrespect almost made Jake laugh. He ended up hissing through his teeth instead. “Get your ass back over here. Now.”

Before Spider had a chance to disobey him again, Jake crossed the distance he had put between them in a single step and seized him by the arm.

“Jake, what—“

“I don’t want to hear it.” Jake cut him off by roughly steering him in the direction of home with a firm hand on his shoulder. The action was familiar to him. He’d done it to Lo’ak a hundred times after his troublemaking escapades. In fact, he was already mentally planning the lecture and accompanying punishment for disobedience he’d give to Spider once they got home. It was going to be nearly identical to the one he’d given Lo’ak after he’d scared everyone by getting lost outside the reef. Maybe Spider’s attitude would improve after a day of being stuck inside the marui doing chores. “You’re gonna march your butt back to the marui and—“

His eyes widened in surprise when Spider jerked his shoulder out of his grip and twisted away from him.

“Get the hell off me!” Spider yelled. He backed away from Jake, one hand covering the shoulder he had grabbed.

For a moment, all Jake could do was stare at him in shock, mouth slightly ajar. Then he closed it, tightening it into a sharp, angry line. Never in all his years as a parent had one of his children dared to use such language at him, especially not when they were already in trouble. “What did you just say to me, boy?”

“I told you to get the hell off me.” Spider repeated boldly, heedless of the hole he was digging himself into.

“Alright, that’s it!” Jake stormed towards Spider with a snarl. “I was gonna go easy on you, but since you want to have an attitude, we can do this the hard way.”

Spider scurried back to stay out of reach, but his retreat wasn’t a sign of submissiveness. If anything, Spider puffed up just as angrily as Jake. He hopped up onto a nearby mangrove root so he could better look him in the eye. “Attitude? I’m just minding my own business and you’re all pissy at me for some reason!”

“Minding your own business?” Jake repeated with a scoff. Even when Lo’ak got in trouble he had the sense to own up to it instead of lying about it. He jabbed an accusatory finger towards Spider’s chest. “You know damn well what you’re doing. I don’t know why you think you get to stay out past curfew all of a sudden, but the rules haven’t changed just ‘cause we left the forest.”

Spider threw his hands up in frustration. “Bro, what are you talking about?”

“Playing dumb isn’t going to help you! You’re out past your curfew and there’s going to be consequences.”

“What fucking curfew?” Spider yelled so loudly that it made Jake recoil. His voice cracked hard mid-sentence, and Jake suddenly realized that the tone he’d mistaken for disrespectful was actually scared and confused. 

Jake's first instinct was to yell right back, but he forced himself to take a deep breath. He put his hands up in a calming gesture, and when he finally spoke, he managed to keep his voice civil. “Spider, this morning I told you and Lo’ak and Kiri to come back before sundown, remember?”

Spider’s brows knit together in confusion. He was still on edge, but he relaxed slightly at seeing Jake calm down. “You told Lo’ak and Kiri to come back. You didn’t say it to me.”

“Spider,” Jake had to take another calming breath to keep from losing his cool again. He couldn’t tell if this was genuine confusion or some bizarre attempt to get out of trouble, but either way he figured more yelling wouldn’t solve the situation. “You were standing right between Lo’ak and Kiri when I said it. Why would you think I wasn’t saying it to you too?”

“Why would I think you were? I’m not one of your kids.” 

“I— well— no, you’re not, but you still have to follow the rules. Back when you lived in Hell’s Gate with the McCoskers, could you just wander off whenever you felt like it?”

Spider squinted at him in confusion. “Uh… yeah, I could? I did that all the time.”

Now it was Jake’s turn to squint. “You didn’t have a curfew with the McCoskers?”

“I mean, maybe when I was like, really little, but not that I can remember, no. And besides, I haven’t lived with the McCoskers since the RDA came back, remember? It’s been almost two years since then.”

For a moment, Jake was almost stunned into silence, but he recovered from his surprise and changed tactics. “Okay, forget the McCoskers. Think about when we lived in High Camp. You had a curfew then.”

“No, your kids had a curfew, but I didn’t. Don’t you remember how Lo’ak was always jealous?”

“I—” Jake frowned. Now that Spider mentioned it, he vaguely remembered Lo’ak begging Jake to extend his curfew because of something to do with Spider. “But Norm and Max and everyone, they made sure you got home and ate dinner before dark, right?”

“Norm and Max were always super busy. It’s really hard to keep human life support running out there. They didn’t have time to babysit me; they had to keep the lights on.” Spider shrugged like it was no big deal. He must’ve noticed the shocked look on Jake’s face because he quickly added. “Jake, relax. I’m a tough kid, remember? I know how to get my own dinner and I know when to go to sleep. I was fine.”

“Oh, Eywa…” The realization finally hit Jake. Spider’s confusion was one hundred percent genuine; he really didn’t understand why Jake was angry at him for staying out at night. Jake pressed his hands to his lips and took another deep breath. He sat down on the mangrove root and patted the spot next to him. Spider still looked a little nervous, but he sat down next to Jake anyway. His legs were far too short to reach the sandy ground below, so they swung in the air halfway down Jake’s calves, making him look much younger than he was.

“Spider,” Jake began. He put a hand on Spider’s shoulder and turned him so they were face to face, “you’re not one of my kids, but while we stay in Awa’atlu, you’re living in our marui. That means I’m responsible for you just like I’m responsible for Lo’ak, Kiri, and Tuk. So you have to follow the rules— that includes the curfew.”

Spider made a face. “I really have to have a curfew now? But why?”

“The same reason Kiri and Lo’ak and Aonung and Rotxo and every other kid has a curfew. It’s to keep you safe. If you don’t come back at sundown, I won’t know where you are or if something bad happened to you.” Jake ruffled Spider’s hair the same way he did to Lo’ak all the time.

“Nothing bad’s gonna happen to me,” Spider shoved his hand off with a scoff. “I can take care of myself. I never had a curfew before. Why do I gotta have one now?”

Jake's patience started to wear thin again. His irritation started to leak into his voice. “Because I said so, that’s why.”

“That’s bullshit!”

“You do not speak that way to me, young man.” Jake scolded.

Spider shrunk under the reprimand, but still held his ground. “Well, it is…”

Jake threw his hands up in exasperation. “What is so important that you need to stay out at night anyway, huh?”

“Uh, food? You know, that thing I need to survive?” Spider drawled with so much venomous sarcasm that for a split second Jake felt like he was talking to his father instead. “Do you think I’m out here freezing my butt off for fun? I’m trying to catch some dinner. I know it’s been awhile since you were human, but remember that humans need to eat too.”

“Alright, first of all, lose the attitude, kid.” Jake snapped. “Second of all, what are you talking about? Food? We have food at home. Neytiri made dinner for everyone.”

An ugly sound that was half-scoff, half-laugh escaped Spider’s throat. “No. Ms. Sully made food for your family. Not for me.”

“Spider, is that what this is about?” Jake’s voice softened slightly with pity. “Neytiri? Listen, I know things are… complicated right now, but Neytiri doesn’t mind if you eat what she cooked.”

“Oh, I bet she’d love it if I ate some of her cooking,” Spider said bitterly. Seeing the confused look on Jake’s face, he added, “she never cooks things humans can eat. This morning Kiri warned me she was making pincer fish stew. Do you know how toxic pincer fish are to humans? If I ate it I’d probably puke my own brains out.”

Jake cringed. “Oh… I’m sorry, kiddo, I didn’t realize she was making something that would hurt you. Why didn’t you say something?”

“Why would I? It’s not the first time she’s cooked poisonous food when she knows I’m staying for dinner.”

“Don’t talk like that. Neytiri wouldn’t do that on purpose. She’s just been so distracted since… since everything. I promise it was just a mistake.”

“Yeah, a mistake.” Spider scoffed. “Maybe it was this time, but didn’t you ever notice that every time she heard me, Kiri, and Lo’ak were planning a sleepover that she’d make something I couldn’t eat? It’s not like she’s in the habit of making human-friendly food.”

“What— no, but that’s not—“ Jake spluttered as he tried to think of a rebuttal, but no matter how hard he thought, he couldn’t. Since they’d gotten Spider back, all their meals were sympathy gifts from the Metkayina or were prepared by Jake. Neytiri had been too bereaved to cook, so Jake had picked up the slack. Tonight was the first night she’d cooked since the battle. Even thinking back further, back to when they lived in the forest, Jake couldn’t recall a time Spider had stayed over for dinner when Neytiri cooked. It was always when Jake cooked or when they ate a feast prepared by the clan.

Now that he was really thinking about it, he vaguely remembered an ugly argument between Kiri and Neytiri that had happened a long time ago: Kiri accused Neytiri of cooking food that was poisonous for humans on purpose so Spider couldn’t spend the night with them, and Neytiri argued back that it was too hard for her to modify every recipe she knew to make it human-friendly.

“Okay, maybe she did do that, but that was before. She always knew you could get food from somewhere else. Things are different now. Today really was just a mistake.” Jake tried to get Spider to look at him, but Spider stubbornly kept his head down and let his thick locs hide his face.

“Yeah, whatever. Can I go now? If I don’t catch a fish soon I’m gonna go hungry tonight.” Spider started to slide off the root they sat on.

Before he could slink out of reach, Jake grabbed him by the shoulders. He knelt on the hard sandy ground in front of him so they were face to face. “Haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve been saying? You’re coming home with me. Now. I’ll let breaking curfew slide just this once since you didn’t understand the rules, but this is the last time you’re going out by yourself at night. If I ever catch you breaking curfew again, you’re gonna be grounded, you read me?”

“What? But how am I supposed to feed myself?” Spider cried. There was so much genuine panic in his voice that it made Jake cringe with guilt. Did Spider seriously think he would let him starve? “During the day I have to help everyone out with the chores. I won’t have enough time to find food if—“

“Spider!” Jake cut him off with a gentle squeeze to his shoulders. Once he was sure he had Spider’s full attention, he continued in a slow, clear voice. “Look, here’s the deal, kid: as long as you live under my roof and follow my rules, I will make sure you have plenty of food. You don’t have to hunt for yourself after dark. From now on, you will come back home and eat dinner with us every night before sundown. How’s that sound?”

Spider stayed quiet for a long moment, a furrow in his brow. Jake gave him a reassuring, fatherly smile, the same smile that always seemed to help his children when they were scared. He hoped that Spider was finally getting it. After a long moment of hard thought, Spider shook his head and said, “no thank you.”

Jake stared at him incredulously. “What do you mean, no thank you?”

“I mean, I’m good.” Spider grabbed Jake’s oversized hands and carefully peeled them off his shoulders. “That whole deal thing you’re offering me? No thanks. I’d rather keep my freedom.”

He tried to slink away again, but Jake stopped him with a hand on his wrist. “Spider, the deal isn’t optional.”

“So you’re forcing me to follow this stupid curfew?” Spider tried to twist out of his grip, but Jake wasn’t budging. “What? Like a prisoner or something?”

“A prisoner? Jesus, Spider, I’m not imprisoning you, I’m taking care of you! Why can’t you just—” Jake cut himself off. He was going to ask Spider why he couldn’t just trust him, but considering everything they’d just talked about, it felt stupid to ask him to do that. With a deep sigh, he gently took both of Spider’s hands and lightly squeezed them.

“Okay, look at it this way. Lo’ak and Kiri have a curfew too. Why do you think they have a curfew?”

Spider stopped trying to squirm away from him, but he wouldn’t look him in the eyes either. He kept his gaze on the ground, where he nudged a small rock with his toe. His begrudging answer came after a moment, “so you know that they’re safe.”

“Yep, that’s right. We give our kids curfews because we love them.” Jake nodded. “A curfew isn’t a punishment. It’s just a rule to keep you kids safe.”

Spider kicked the rock, sending it flying into the diving hole with a small splash. He still wouldn’t look at Jake. “I’m not a kid. I’m older than Kiri and Lo’ak. I don’t need this stupid rule to stay safe.”

“Yes, you do. You’re sixteen. Sixteen-year-olds have curfews.”

Suddenly, Spider looked up at him, his dark eyes shining with an emotion Jake couldn’t identify. “So why didn’t I have a curfew when I was fifteen? Or fourteen? Or— hell, I don’t think I’ve had one since I was like ten. You say that kids need curfews, but I never had one. And it was fine. If it wasn’t fine, you and Norm and everybody wouldn’t have let it happen. So it was fine, right?”

Jake’s ears twitched downwards and it became a struggle to hold Spider’s gaze. The strange look in his eyes was almost pleading, silently begging Jake to confirm what he’d said; that it was perfectly fine that all the adults had let a teenager run around with no guardian looking after him. Jake licked his lips. It would be easy to agree with him; just tell him that the way he’d been treated was fine and come up with some bullshit excuse for why things had to change now. Spider had always gotten enough food and rest; it wasn’t like he was wasting away while the adults ignored him. Sure, he didn’t have anyone looking out for him the way Jake and Neytiri looked out for their children, but there was a war going on. They had bigger things to worry about. Spider wasn’t their problem.

It was fine, right?

“No.” When Jake finally answered, he couldn’t look Spider in the eyes. He kept his gaze trained on the stony ground beneath his knees. “No, Spider, it wasn’t fine. A kid’s not supposed to live like that. A kid’s supposed to have somebody making sure they come home and eat dinner and go to bed every night. You shouldn’t have had to look out for yourself like that.”

In the edges of his vision, he saw Spider’s dreadlocks sway as he shook his head. “No, it was fine. I was fine. I mean, I always knew I wasn’t treated the same as the other kids, but it wasn’t like it was bad or anything. Kiri and Lo’ak and Tuk are your responsibility, ‘cause you’re their parents. I don’t have parents, so I’m nobody’s responsibility. It wouldn’t be fair to make somebody else look after me when it wasn’t their fault I was stuck there.”

Hearing Spider frantically try to rationalize his treatment only made Jake feel worse. He shrunk into himself as Spider continued.

“That’s just how the world works. You know, like, if something ever happened to you and Neytiri, Lo’ak and Kiri would have to look out for themselves too, ‘cause it wouldn’t be fair to make somebody else have to look after them.”

“No! Eywa, no, Spider! That’s not how this works!” Jake cried. Just the thought of his children living like Spider —having no one waiting on them to come home at night, staying out late to get food for themselves because they couldn’t count on anyone else to feed them— was enough to make him feel sick to his stomach. “It doesn’t matter if a kid doesn’t have parents. They still need somebody taking care of them. That’s why you had your foster parents.”

“Yeah, I guess I needed them when I was little, but I pretty much just slept in the same house as them by the time I was, like, ten or so. And they’re long gone by now. I was fine without anybody looking out for me for the past year and a half. You don’t need to start now.”

“Spider, I was…” Jake hesitated, struggling to find the right words. He forced himself to look Spider in the eyes. “I was wrong, okay. I was Olo’eyktan. When your foster family abandoned you, I should’ve done something— should’ve appointed somebody or— or I don’t know. I just shouldn’t have done nothing.”

“Jake, I was fine.” Spider protested weakly.

“No, you weren’t. Not if you think it’s normal to get food all by yourself at night.”

“It’s not?”

“No! Jesus, if something ever happened to me and Neytiri,” Jake’s voice cracked with emotion at the thought, “I would never want my kids to live like this— so it’s not right to let you live like this either.”

“Jake,” Spider seemed taken aback by the emotion in his voice. “It’s okay.”

“No, kiddo, it’s not. But I’m gonna make it okay now.” He got to his feet and held a hand out to Spider. “Come on, let’s go home.”

Instead of taking his hand, Spider backed away. His eyes darted between Jake’s hand and the spearfish he’d left lying near the edge of the diving hole. The wind picked up ever so slightly, and Jake caught a whiff of the human stench of fear coming off of Spider. He frowned. Did the thought of letting himself be dependent on Jake scare him that badly?

“Look, Jake, don’t take this the wrong way, but I think it’s better if things stay the same as they’ve always been.”

Jake’s frown deepened. “What? Do you want to be out here in the dark catching food by yourself?”

Spider grimaced. “Not really, but I just think it’s for the best. It’s really nice of you to offer to take care of me, but I know how the world works. You can make promises now, when things are peaceful, but they won’t stay peaceful forever. Once things get tough again, you’re going to put your family first. I’d rather keep taking care of myself so that when things do get tough again, I’ll already be used to it.”

Jake didn’t know what to say to that. The diving hole went silent save for the waves lapping at the rock below and the occasional hiss of his exopack. Alpha Centauri had long since sunk below the horizon, leaving them illuminated by the soft blue light of Polyphemus and his moons. Spider took his silence as an answer. He knelt and scooped up his child-size speargun before turning back towards the water.

“I’m sorry I scared you today, but just forget about the curfew thing, okay? I can take care of myself.”

The breeze picked up, sending another wave of human-fear towards Jake’s nose. Spider was doing a good job of hiding it, but he really was scared. It reminded him uncomfortably of people he’d known back on Earth— people who had been let down so many times that the thought of trusting someone else to care for them was terrifying. If you give someone the power to feed you, you give them the power to starve you, someone had told him when he decided to join the Marines. The Marine Corp kept him fed as long as he was an able-bodied soldier, but the minute that changed, they’d let him starve. Clearly, Spider thought he would end up starving too if he let Jake have the power to feed him. Jake had to prove to him that he meant what he said. Empty promises wouldn’t be enough.

“Spider, wait,” he called just before Spider could jump into the water. Spider looked back at him warily.

Slowly, telegraphing his movements so Spider could clearly see what he was doing, he unsheathed his knife and held it up to his dreads. Spider’s eyes widened as he carefully severed a lock of his hair.

“Jake, what are you doing? You don’t have to—”

“No. I wasn’t just making an empty promise. I’m going to take care of you from now on.” He approached Spider and knelt so they were on the same level again, and offered the lock of hair towards him. “I want to take you on as my mll’an’eveng.”

“Mll’an’eveng,” Spider echoed, staring at the hair in disbelief. It was rare a Na’vi custom done whenever a child ended up orphaned and was too old for parental tsaheylu with adoptive parents. To the Na’vi, if a child and adult never made the parental bond in infancy, then they could never truly be child and parent, but they had an exception for children who were orphaned later in life, after they’d already established a parental bond with their birth parents. Taking in a child as mll’an’eveng wasn’t the same as adoption, but it was more like a wardship or foster home, acknowledging that the child had already bonded with other parents and their new ones could never replace that bond. An adult would be bound to take care of a mll’an’eveng with steep consequences if they failed, just like there would be consequences for neglecting their own child.

“But I’m human—” Spider protested.

“I don’t care. We don’t need tsaheylu to make you my mll’an’eveng.”

“Neytiri won’t—”

“Let me worry about her.”

“Jake, I don’t know…” Spider put a hand to his own hair and wove his fingers through it anxiously.

“It’s your choice whether you want to do this or not,” Jake said, “but no matter what your answer is, I’m still going to watch out for you. I just want to prove to you that I mean it.”

Spider’s fingers knotted so tightly in his locks that it looked painful. The stench of fear was so strong that Jake didn’t need the breeze to smell it coming off of him. Jake was just about to take his lock of hair back when Spider suddenly moved. He slipped his own small knife from its sheath and sliced off a dreadlock. With slightly trembling fingers, he handed it to Jake.

The two locks of hair rested in his giant blue palm, one smooth, neat, and uniform black, the other uneven, unkempt and mottled in shades of bronze. With all the solemnity of any other Na’vi ritual, Jake took the two locks of hair and wound them around each other, joining them into one strand. Jake then used some stray string stowed away in his loincloth pouch to tie the strand around his wrist. As per the custom of the mll’an’eveng ritual, Jake would wear the hair on his wrist for the next four days as a visible declaration of wardship over Spider for all to see.

Spider let out a heavy breath as Jake finished tying the hair to his wrist, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His bottom lip trembled and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut to fight back tears.

“Hey, it’s okay, bud. C’mere.” Jake pulled Spider into a hug, letting him bury the smooth surface of his mask into the crook of Jake’s neck.

“I’m not crying.” Spider mumbled into his shoulder.

Jake tried not to laugh as he patted him on the back. “Of course not.” He gave Spider a minute to pull himself together before giving him one last squeeze and standing up.

“Alright. Are you ready to go home now?” He offered his hand.

Small, pale fingers slipped between large, blue ones. “Yeah, I am.”

Na'vi Vocab:

Mll’an: to accept

‘Eveng: a child

I combined these two words together to create “Mll’an’eveng” or “accepted child,” a Na’vi term for a child an adult is accepting as their responsibility, but not formally adopting, similar to a ward or a foster kid. This is not canon lore, just something I made up for this one-shot.

💙Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think in the comments and reblogs, and if you want to see more from me, feel free to send me a prompt in my ask box 💙

[ghoastixx]

saw you were looking for Supernatural requests and I was wondering if you could do Castiel with a child reader who’s so picky about what they eat? Like they refuse to eat something that isn’t their comfort food? Please and thank you!

Castiel w/ a picky child GN!reader

notes: As someone who really really likes reading castiel interacting with a child, this makes me really happy. I am going to write Cas in more of the "I'm an angel of the lord." tone instead of the "Good morning!!🥰🌺" tone. But, who knows how it will turn out.

Synopsis above

My inbox is alway open.

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You were a nightmare during meal times, John used to say. Y/n Winchester was the youngest of Sam and Dean. When John died in that hospital, Y/n had only been a child. Now Y/n was older. Almost eleven.

Sam and Dean has raised Y/n, for the most part, so they were more used to things that the kiddo liked and didn't like. Most of that was influenced by shitty gas stations and diners.

Bobby always had a hell of a time getting the kid to eat. Everyone tried their best, they really did.. but it was difficult, and you would often get teased for being "picky." Even if it did hurt your feelings sometimes, you loved these people so you would never say anything about it.

You really liked Castiel for some reason. Your older brothers thought it was a little weird, I mean.. you usually didn't warm up easily to new people. It took at least four days to get you to even talk to another hunter if they had been working with one. But with Castiel? You seemed to just instantly like him. Sam joked it was because he was an angel, and in stories and older media, angels and children go hand in hand. Dean was just glad that you liked someone that wasn't your family.

At this point, with all the moving around and everything the boys had done, it was too dangerous to send you to school, so Sam "homeschooled" you when you had the time, but ever since Cas had showed up, you could be found asking him question after question about everything you were curious about. Castiel answered them, but he was confused. The young Winchester didn't bother him, he was intrigued more than anything.

An important hunt came up, a dangerous hunt. Sam and Dean really did not want you out on this mission. Usually they would dump you on Bobby during a time like this, but they needed Bobby's help on this hunt. They were okay with letting you stay by yourself, but when it came to hunts like this one, they would rather have someone watch you. Blackmail wasn't good. So, being the reasonable men they are, they dumped you on Castiel, who knew nothing about humans.

"Alright Castiel, Y/n can take pretty good care of themselves, just keep an eye on them, alright?"

"I will do the best I can Sam." Castiel responded as you walked into the kitchen.

"Please try and get them to eat something." He added before he left, leaving his sibling and the angel alone.

Castiel walked into the kitchen, keeping good distance from the kid, but watching as they pulled some water out of the fridge.

"Sam told me that I should have you eat something."

"No, we're out of pasta." You murmured, twisting the lid off.

Castiel tilted his head a bit, "Human's are not limited to strictly one food?" He said it sternly, but you could tell it was a question.

"Yeah- I know, but like- it's complicated Cas."

"Well, is there something here that you will eat?" He was going to attempt to negotiate.

"well, my dinner is probably going to be day old chocolate milk and a bag of Funyuns."

"That doesn't sound very appetizing."

"You're an angel-"

"I watch the Winchester's eat all the time." He walked into the kitchen, "I'll attempt to make you something."

"Cas-"

"I'm an angel of the lord, I can make a child some food." He began rummaging through whatever food that the winchesters had in the motel kitchen. He came up with some bread and grape jelly.

"No- I'm not eating that."

"What?"

"I said I don't wanna eat that. I don't like grape. It's yucky."

"Alright, I'll find something else. What about..peanut..butter?"

"No. Dean only likes the thick one and it's too chunky for me. I don't want it."

"Well," castiel looked at the kid, "What do you like to eat?" There was few of what the kid said in the motel, but Castiel managed to find some left over pizza in the back of the fridge. A contender! So, he heated it up and put it on a plate. He gave it to you as you sat down and watched curiously as you picked the pepperoni off. "You don't like that part either?"

"No. But it doesn't ruin it. I can still eat it." Castiel sat down.

"Why do you not like many foods?" You shrugged,

"I just don't." You ate half of it before you stopped. He looked down at it, his brows knitted together.

"Are you not going to eat anymore? Is it not good?" You shook your head.

"I think your brothers would want you to eat it,"

"I know.."

"What would get you to eat it, child?"

"Will you tell me a story?" So castiel did. And eventually you ate your food.

Castiel didn't like the quiet after you went to bed. He was beginning to grow to enjoy your company. That's when the tired boys came back.

Sam immediately went to clean up, Dean approached Cas,

"So, how was booger? Did they eat."

"Yes. I heated up pizza for them. They showed me how to use the microwave."

"Woah, a whole meal? Booger never eats that much for Bobby. Good job Cas."

This confused Castiel, but he never had an issue getting the kid to eat after that.

[obey-me-headquarters]

So, I haven't gotten too far into Nightbringer to write any specific smut for it. (Literally only just started lesson 6). But I do have some ideas!!

A lot of my ideas revolve around being the demon's "first" in something. Like, you know your demons inside and out at this point. You know all their kinks, fantasies, and where to touch them to make them squirm. So you can introduce them to all sorts of things that make them scream in the future but they have no experience with now.

For example, showing Lucifer how much of a masochist he is. I don't think Lucifer is a complete virgin in Nightbringer as I think he fooled around as an angel at least a few times. I mean, he's still a few thousand years old, he was bound to get curious and try getting frisky with a few angels. But him trying out BDSM? I seriously doubt it.

So once you and him finally fall into bed together, you show him all the ways he didn't know he loved to be touched. Having such an inexperienced Lucifer is a bit of a novelty and a bit of an annoyance. Present day Lucifer knew what he wanted and he wasn't ashamed of asking for it. The Lucifer you're currently bedding? Doesn't know what he wants.

It's actually really cute how shy Lucifer is. How he tries so hard to stifle his moans when you heard much louder, much needier ones from your present Lucifer.

And you don't want to push him. It's entirely possible that past Lucifer has no interest in BDSM. That his particular taste for masochism and being owned evolved after many centuries.

But you still want to try, to possibly open his eyes to a new world of domination and submission.

So one evening, one careful evening you've been planning for. One evening in which you make sure that his brothers haven't wreaked havoc, one evening where Diavolo doesn't up to distract Lucifer cause him stress. One perfect, relaxing evening, you spring the question onto him.

"Lucifer, have you heard about BDSM?" You ask in your most light, most casual tone to not raise any alarm bells and spook the demon.

Lucifer pauses his undressing, his hands suspended in the air as his tie hangs loosely around his neck. He turns to you in slow motion, looking so bewildered and confused that it makes you want to laugh. Surely your demon couldn't be that pure right? You know he's only been a demon for a little more than a year now, but, come on.

"I'm sorry, have I heard about what?"

"BDSM! Like, Bondage, Domination, Submissive, Masochism. Have you heard of people doing that sort of thing in bed?"

Lucifer's face turns a bright scarlet and he turns away from you. Like, actually physically turning his full back to you, turning away from you. You can see his ears still burning though, and elect not to tease him about it in worry that if you do, Lucifer might become so embarrassed he'll stop being the Avatar of Pride.

"It's fine if you haven't. If you would rather I never bring it up again say the word and I wouldn't." You tell him, concern starting to creep in.

"No. No, it's fine. I just. Why did you choose to bring that topic up?" He asks stiffly, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. A classical Lucifer "I'm nervous about this topic because it inflicts Feelings in me" move.

"I was just wondering. I have been in dom/sub relationships in the, um, past, and was wondering if that was something you'll be into," you say gently, so extremely gently. "It's fine if that's not something you're into." You add.

"You have?" He asks in surprise, and because you know him so well, with a hint of excitement. "What... what role did you fall into?"

Relief crashes into you like a tidal wave. He's into it. He's really into it from what you can tell. He hasn't had any experience with subbing, you know because your Lucifer didn't when you meet him, but he was so desperate to finally try he practically threw himself at your feet.

Not this Lucifer though. This Lucifer most likely knows of the idea, maybe he picked up some porn featuring a dom/sub relationship and knows on some level that he's interested in subbing, but hasn't had the time to stew in that knowledge like your Lucifer did.

"Dominate." You say with confidence, a grin painting your face. "I like control in the bedroom."

And judging by the shiver that shoots up Lucifer's spine at your words, so does he.

Grinning, you stand and begin stalking towards your prey.

"I like taking control of my partner. Make them beg for relief. And if they misbehave, I like to punish them."

"Do. Do you?" Lucifer asks breathlessly.

You're standing behind him and you know he knows you're there. His demon sense picking up on it, and by the way he almost leans backward as if to meet your touch, you know he wants you.

"I do." You state confidently, mere inches away from Lucifer.

"But," your hand grasps Lucifer's shoulder and he flinches. "If my partner didn't want that...." You give him a light pull and he complies, turning to face you.

And oh, what a sight that is.

You missed your subby little Luci. You missed his cute moans, his tears as you edged him, and his screams when you overstimulated him. And you missed his flushed face when you lowered him into subspace.

And this? This perfectly mimics that face.

"Oh, baby." You breathe out, fighting the urge to pepper his face in kisses and pull him into your chest.

"And what if I do? Would you do those things to me?" Lucifer asks, and you're so, so proud of him for asking.

"Darling, I would do all that and more." You say as you kiss him.

Like your Lucifer did in the past, like he will do in the future, he lets you take control.

[b00ks1ut]

It’s All About Trust

Joe Liebgott X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, war, fluff (an attempt anyway I think), swearing, Briefly mention of reader being a medic, reader has a shit ton of siblings (relatable), not that many physical descriptions if any, mentions of death, normal Band of Brothers stuff

Sorry if this is bad. I’ve never written any BoB fanfiction and really have like hardly any writing experience at all so hopefully this isn’t horrible. Please give me feed back if you want. Thank you! Also sorry for the ending. It’s kinda abrupt but it’s the best I could get lol

Bois Jacques is hell. A very very cold hell. Nothing could truly combat the cold that seeps into everyone around me. Not even the plainish slop they feed us in an attempt at food. Or in the current case, cold, hard “pancakes”, or that’s what Domingus says they are.

Don pokes at his and calls after our ever so kind cook, “Joe these smell like my armpit!”

“At least your armpit is warm.” Skip grumbles from Malarkey’s side as he holds his pancake up for emphasis.

“You want syrup with that?” Domingus sasses back to him.

“Joe, be honest, what’s in these things anyway?” Don asks the retreating man.

“Nothing you won’t eat, Malarkey.” He replies.

“I won’t eat Malarkey.” Spina shoots back quickly causing us all grouped up to let out a chorus of laughs.

Julian brings back the topic of Babe and Spina’s run in with a German on their search for 3rd Battalion. “Hey, maybe Hinkle would like your share, huh?”

This happens to hit my funny bone and I let out a snort leading to the rest of the men’s laughter to only further increase until Peacock comes around looking for Dike.

“Try battalion CP, sir.” I tell the man. The rest of us wait for him to walk away on his hunt for the company CO before we break our into giggles again.

“Try Paris.” Skip laughs.

“Try Hinkle.” Malarkey adds, only increasing our laughter and before I know it tears are pricking my eyes.

Spina begins his less than great German impression and I have to leave before I piss myself laughing.

I seem to run into a brick wall in my way back to my foxhole, tears of laughter still stinging my eyes.

“Sorry ‘bout that (y/n/n).” A deep southern voice speaks from above me.

I take a look and send a smile at the blonde who’s got me held by the shoulders.

“You’re all good Bull, no harm done.” I tell him as I step out of his hold. “Sorry about that.”

“No harm done.” He repeats before walking away with a smile sent to me.

I continue to make my way back to my temporary home of a frozen foxhole. I look down to find none other than Joseph Liebgott.

I’ve always had a soft spot for the rageful Jew. I don’t think it’s any specific thing that made me so drawn to him but rather his whole entire being.

On the other hand he’s never shown any direct attraction to me. Sure nearly all the men of Easy have sent me a glance at least once but I don’t blame them, I’m one of the few women they’ve interacted with past a single night in around 2 years. But past a glance none of the boys have soberly tried anything.

Especially Joe. He’s not unfriendly to me but he’s never really gone out of his way to interact with me. Not until now.

He’s sitting alone in my foxhole, hands tucked under his armpits, gun leaning in the dirt next to him, and his eyes intensely trained on the line.

“Joe? Did you get lost?” I ask him with a small laugh.

“Uh?” He looks up at me and gives me a small smile. “Not lost, just looking for someone to talk to.”

“Luz’s hole is like 2 over that way.” I told him pointing in the direction of the jester’s own hiding place.

“Well good thing I wasn’t looking for George then, yeah?” He says with his trademark smirk. “I can leave if you’d like me to, though.”

"You're fine, but can I ask a question?" I asked as I began the short descent into the frozen foxhole.

"Shoot away (y/l/n)." The Californian told me, looking back at the line across the cold, white field.

"Why are you talking to me? I'm don't mean to be rude but you've never put any effort into having any interaction with me." I asked sitting across from him and stuffing my frozen hands into my jacket pockets.

"I'm just trying to be friendly. No time better than the present, right? Do you have a problem with that? I can leave if you need me to." Joe had begun to get a little defensive but that's hardly surprising when he'll jump at a chance to be upset, whether isn’t reasonable or not.

"Why now? There's hardly a point in making friends when fucking Babe and Spina barely just ran from a Kraut fucking foxhole so excuse my confusion at your extremely sudden olive branch when we're all about to be sent home either on a stretcher or in an enveloped as a piece of shitty metal with our names stamped into it!" I grabbed my dog tags and shook them for emphasis. It took all of my self control to not start yelling or crying, but I could feel the sting of unshed tears at my eyes. "We're all going to be blown to kingdom come by all of this damned artillery." I whisperd.

"Hey. That's not true. We've made it this far but look at us. Sitting in this frozen hell hole and you're alive, I'm alive, and so is Bull and George, Don, Babe, Doc, Skip, Penkala, Perco, and Buck and Lip." He began listing some of the guys we had been with for so long. "I know it's scary and there's not a single thing I can promise you to make anything seem ok, because I'm scared and I have no clue what's going to happen even 10 seconds from now but one thing I can tell you that might make you feel slightly better is that you've made it this far. You made it through Sobel's shitty personalty, Normandy, Carentan, and I know that if you have made it this far without a scratch then what can take you down? You’re what, one of nine kids back at home, you managed to talk and work your way into the airborne and then continue to be an absolute badass throughout boot camp and combat!” He took a break to really look at me and I took that as an opportunity to defend myself and my feelings.

“I’m really flattered but don’t you think I’ve been too lucky? I’ve come so far with nothing more than a bruise and I’m sure the next thing you know I’ll be blown to pieces! I don’t know why I thought I could do this, Joe! I’m fucking terrified and there’s no where to go!” I can feel the tears beginning to well in my eyes and in a sorry attempt to stop them I look to the sky. “I don’t know what I’m doing here anymore.”

“Hey, you can’t go thinking like that. You’re going to make it out of here alive. I need you to believe that because trust me when I say that you are the toughest damned woman I’ve ever met in my life.” He scooted closer to me and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side.

The tears couldn’t be held any longer and the dam broke, salty waves rolling down the sides of face into my hair line. A sob escaped my lips before I could muffle it with a fist that had been stuffed between my lips only seconds too late.

“I’m sorry.”

“No need to be sorry, (y/n), we’re all feeling it, you’re the only one brave enough to let anyone see it.”

I let out a scoff. ‘Brave’ is not the right word to use. “I’m pathetic. I’m sitting here crying, doing nothing to help anyone around me who has it worse. I’m a a medic for fuck’s sake, I shouldn’t be crying when I routinely see how bad I could have it.”

Joe had only pulled me closer and wrapped his other arm around me, essentially cradling my shaking form. “Don’t you see? That’s what makes you so brave, (y/n). You see all these men in so much pain and put yourself in harms way to make sure they get patched up and safe. You are completely allowed to be overwhelmed and scared and cold and any other feeling a person can have. Not one man here would blame you for being upset right now. They know that as long as you are safe so are they, because when shit goes down you’re always there to help us.” He was talking so softly and so gently that I couldn’t help but cry harder.

“Oh fuck.” I muttered , wiping at my eyes. “I’m sorry Joe.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for Doll.” He gave me an affectionate pat. “Just know that you are such a light in the dark here, and not one of the men in these woods would judge you right now.”

I gave him a weak smile and sniffed, wiping at my eyes and nose. “Thank you, Joe, really. I’m forever grateful.”

“Oh don’t mention it, just don’t go telling anyone that I give out cuddles, I can’t have my reputation ruined like that.” Joe snickered with his smirk and a pat to my side.

“Your secret is safe with me as long as you don’t go telling people I cry.” I tittered and wrapped my arm around his neck.

“Your secret is safe with me, (y/n).”

“How do I know you’re not lying to me?”

“It’s all about trust. I trust you, you trust me; that’s how this has to work, yeah?” I was nearly bumping noses with him and if I wanted to I could just lean in a little and kiss him. The thought quickly crosses my mind but part of me knows better.

“I trust you, Joseph Liebgott.” I meant it, with more of my heart than I thought was still there.

[solbach-colbrock]

Up Top! - Seth Borden X Reader

SUMMARY - You and Seth have developed a… unique high five

WARNINGS - none

WORDS - 1k

NOTES - This is actually something I used to do with a friend of mine. I thought it would be cute to write. Also Chase is in this one

~*~*~*~

Neither of you were sure how long you had been doing it, but by now it was practically automatic. Every time you and Seth got excited, you would… well, it wasn’t quite a high-five, but that was the closest approximation you could make. You got a few odd looks and laughs the first couple of times, but at this point you got looked at funny if Seth’s palm didn’t collide with your forehead when you two were hyped up about something.

At least part of it was due to your height difference. Being shorter than him, you had already become his designated armrest, so it was no real surprise when he started joking about your height by holding out his hand to high five you right at your face height and you just… smacked it with your forehead in spite. It was goofy, and the fans definitely loved it. 

You, Seth, and Chase were filming a video for Chase’s channel. It was a quiz challenge thing, all the questions coming from Twitter fans asking you about details of your past videos that you were likely to get wrong. The two losers of the challenge had to dye a strip of their hair whatever color the winner decided. Two of you were gonna end up matching, and as funny as the concept was, you’d rather not let either of them decide what colors your hair was. 

“I fucking knew it, too! My first fucking thought was, ‘oh it was definitely my green hoodie’, but then you started talking and I started doubting myself! Motherfucker,” you exclaimed, sinking into the backseat of the car. You put your head in your hands, annoyed by the laughter coming from the brothers in the front seats. 

“Haha! I messed with your mind!” Seth laughed.

Y: “Guys, this man in gaslighting me! I have it here.”

S: “Alright Chase, your turn.”

C: “Damn, alright. Hit me.”

S: “What was the name of the man who was rumored to have hung himself at the Shanley Hotel?”

C: “Ah, fuck. How am I supposed to remember that? We filmed that a couple months ago.”

Y: “Even I know the answer to this, and I haven’t even been there yet.”

S: “How the fuck do you know then?”

Y: “I watched the video! I was interested in the lore! It was new information!”

S: “Fuckin’ nerd, alright. What’re you a fan or something?”

Y: “Oh, I’m so sorry for supporting you and your career, Jesus.”

S: “Ok Chase you’ve had plenty of time to come up with an answer. What do you think his name was? Like, honestly, if I didn’t have the answer right in front of me, I don’t think I'd be able to answer this one.”

C: “Fuck, um… David or somethin’? I don’t know!”

S: “Final answer?”

C: “I guess? I really don’t know.”

The smirk on your face grew to a grin as he answered.

S: “Wrong, it was William.”

Y: “Get fucked! Oh, I knew you weren’t getting that one.”

S: “Now you two are tied.”

C: “One of us is gonna lose.”

Y: “Seth is already losing this one.”

S: “Yea, there’s no way I’m wining. I’ve only got two questions right.”

Y: “Should we do a tiebreaker? One question, and whoever gets the answer right first wins?”

C: “Oh, yea. We gotta find a question both of us could answer, though.”

S: “Alright, I’ll look. Give me a second.”

You and Chase relaxed for a moment, avoiding opening your phones in case you came across the same question that Seth could ask you. Chase turned around in his seat when he heard you chuckle to yourself.

“What’s funny?” he asked.

“Oh, nothing. Just deciding what color would look best on you two.” He rolled his eyes at you, his competitive side coming out full force now that it was down to the wire.

“What makes you think you’re winnin’?” You folded your arms over your chest in defiance.

“I’ve watched the videos multiple times. I know what the fans have seen.”

S: “Okay, shut up. I’ve got the question. At the Hatfield Estate, what did the ghost of Arnold whisper in Josh’s ear?”

Y: “Oh, shit! Fuck, I know this!”

C: “God, what was it? I was standin’ right next to him when it happened, too. Damn it…”

S: “You guys get thirty more seconds before I need an answer, right or wrong. Whoever gets closest, I'll take it.”

C: “God, was it ‘come find me’? I remember it was a little kid sayin’ it.”

S: “That-“

Y: “No! It was ‘over here’ because after we started freaking out about it the REM pod started going off in the other room! Like it was trying to show us where it was!”

S: “Yea, that’s correct, actually. Chase, you lost.”

You were practically jumping in the back seat from excitement, cheering at Chase’s distraught state. Your hyper reaction was infectious, and Seth stuck his arm towards the back seat for a high five. You threw your head forward, your forehead making contact with his open palm.

S: “Let’s go! Good job.”

Y: “I fuckin’ knew it! Now I have to decide on a color.”

S: “Wait fuck I forgot I have to do that. What the hell am I celebrating for?”

The three of you wrapped up the video, opting to post pictures of you dying their hair as well as the final result on instagram later. 

“How many edits do you think we’re gonna get out of the high five this time?” Seth asked, knowing full well there would be some made within an hour of posting the video. There were always at least a couple when you two did that. The fans loved your silly little habit. They thought it was really cute and endearing, and frankly, so did you.

“Oh, plenty. It’s been at least two months since we did that on camera. They’re gonna eat that shit up.”

“Will you two just fuckin’ date already?”

“Chase!”

“Shut up, bro!’

[mastersoftheair]

ok, so my own final (and very, very fresh) thoughts, bc i wanted to wait until i'd watched everything to make a sweeping opinion of the whole series, and it's quite opinionated. and long. probably too long. i write essays for fun (everyone point and laugh):

my personal (and very, very fresh) ranking of the hbo war shows (not including gen kill bc that's a different war, sorry) goes- band of brothers > masters of the air > the pacific (it's the same for my title score rankings. that hasn't changed yet)

my main points of contention with MotA are 1) the nine episodes, 2) the length of the episodes, and 3) certain editing choices. nine episodes, compared to the classic ten, isn't Nearly enough time to showcase all that they wanna showcase (especially when the episodes are as short as they are, once you get past the recap and "next on" parts). and they wanna showcase A Lot! there so much going on! i'd ask them to pace themselves, but they literally Can't!

i mean, the editing choices are a Whole Thing! practically gives me whiplash sometimes lol. i feel like the weaker episodes still have parts that are Really good, but like. Individually. they don't work together as a stronger whole, which is to the episode's detriment. rather than jumping around (as the show often did), they could've benefited a lot from focusing on the One Story instead of squeezing three more stories into there (i say that, but i think the 4-5-6 episode run (all with multiple stories per episode) did this very well while Still being very good episodes, so it's not like it Can't be done, it just didn't work for 7, 8 and (partly) 9). granted, i suspect a chunk of the weird editing can be blamed on, well, there being only nine (and not all that long) episodes and no one wanting to cough up enough money for a tenth. ugh! i'm blaming both hbo And appletv for this (and covid19 ig). it's just One More Episode, how much could it cost?? and on the subject of episodes, why no episode titles? you used to love episode titles! i could've brainstormed episode titles for them For Free!!

when it comes to the characters, the rankings remain the same: BoB > MotA > TP. it's not totally fair tho, since BoB followed the exact same (and large-ish) group of guys from beginning to end, so you're Gonna know who they all are and get attached. this wasn't the case (for me!) when watching TP, since, unlike BoB, they jump around from group to group. i never felt like i got to know them all that well, outside of the main characters. i think MotA almost hits that sweet spot, especially knowing they had those two main things going against it: large cast And jumping from group to group. there's a case to be made for bias here (i Was the blog blogging about everything MotA for like. years.), but i still think they found a good enough balance of fleshing out the main characters while Also helping the audience get to know about a bunch of minor characters, of which there are a shitton (and their personalities, motivations, backgrounds, quirks).

there's also the representation of women. actual angel renée lemaire is and will always be a cut above the rest (bastogne is just That Good, argue with the wall). she's written so well that it almost makes me forget about how a bunch of women are portrayed in carentan. i have...issues with how women are portrayed in TP (even tho i love lena), so there's that. MotA falls in the middle (again) bc there's Way more women on-screen, but the writing can be questionable. balanced (as all things should be?) captain l'sandra wing-westgate is a character of all time, but episode 7 birthed the craziest discourse known to man (the hbo war fandom), but it wasn't all that unwarranted. manon and michou were sooo cool, but we didn't see nearly enough of them (another victim of the 'editing too many stories into one episode' problem. why not a whole resistance episode? or at least as the only b-plot?). paulina was interesting, but fulfilled one of those 'attractive foreign woman gives sage advice during/after sex' tropes (there's probably a tvtropes page for that idk). so many red cross girls, but none of the in-depth payoff :/ epic highs (multiple women!!) + epic lows (writing women??) = pretty tolerable. not great, not terrible. it was aight. i trust the fandom to build on this tho.

narrative is the big one tho. it's the whole "doing so much with so little" thing they've got going on (i'm ignoring their big budget here lol, could've been bigger). rather than having one main story with many connecting side stories (like BoB), it does the TP thing where there's many semi-connecting side stories set in the same general area. it helps that there's crosby's narration (i enjoy narration, sue me!), and he helps everything connect, sorta. but there's still other side stories that have Nothing to do with him (sandra's side gigs (revealing what she did takes away the mystery of what she Might be doing), the tuskegee airmen, quinn and bailey's eurotrip). would it have helped if there were two narrators (say, someone like rosie)? idk. gonna sit with that one. if there's a through-line, it's not super obvious like in the other two shows. which is insanely funny to me bc i literally like TP less, but that show's got an Extremely tight through-line all the way down. i can't lie and say it doesn't!

back to budget- i've seen people criticize this show for being called "masters of the air" when there's not much of "the air". ig that's fair, but there's the money issue, again. also, it'd get very repetitive if they were always in "the air". there was enough confusion about identifying who was who with the masks on, so imagine if that was Every Episode. out of All the issues the show has, this is the least issue-y. again, that's just my opinion, and it could change.

another budget thing (i think??)- idk enough about costuming and hair for period pieces so i can't comment on that with my 0 background in it, all i Can say is that i knoooooow people were clowning on marjorie cleven's hair in episode 1 (and i could see why, no such thing as 1940s beach waves). but from what i could understand- that actress' addition was a last-minute thing (bc i had No idea who the hell she was and i already found someone cast for marjorie all the way back in 2021). maybe there's something to say about the quality of rush jobs, but i really do think it was the most last-minute thing bc it came out of Nowhere, and timeline-wise, it looks like that bit was done long after everything else had been filmed. outside looking in, it seems something probably went wrong/didn't work out with who or what they already had and there wasn't enough wiggle room (time and money) to fix it. this isn't me being an apologist (lol), but i feel like a theorist at a big board bc nothing adds up! and i wanna know what happened! i'm just speculating! speculating on this blog is All i did for like Years lmaooo.

this is more of a side thing, but some of the lines in MotA feel really on-the-nose, almost corny. and that was Gonna be a knock against it, but there's some equally Extremely on-the-nose lines in both BoB and TP (Especially in BoB), so if i give MotA shit for it, i'd have to give all three shows shit for it lol. none of them are free of cheese.

another silly aside- no peaches, no main gingers, no main eugenes! we can't have 'em all, but c'mon!

there Is some good tho lol. one thing that MotA really has going for it, that i think the other shows have less of, is- and GOD it feels so weird to call this "world-building" when it's actual goddamn history, but- it's got world-building. maybe that isn't the best word for it. but i like how much Bigger ww2 feels in this show. BoB is one stop, then the next stop, then the next stop, which is, admittedly, good from a narrative-perspective (easy to follow), but not as good when you want a scale of how devastating the war is (in fairness, it was filmed in 2000). even TP feels pretty "enclosed" in a way. there's island-hopping, yeah, but all the damn islands look the same (not including australia lol). it's a theatre of the war we otherwise don't really get to see, but there still isn't all that much to see. it's water and sand and rock and dirt. which is the point, but Whatever! would've been cool if we saw sledge and co. in china, but moving on. MotA's able to really show the scale of it, both in the air and on the ground (that scene in germany during episode 6 was both harrowing and fantastic, also the inclusion of the actual children forced to fight nearer to the war's end in the finale). idk i just liked how it was able to zoom in and zoom out (and in and out again) in a way that the other shows weren't.

another thing it's got that the other shows don't is Really driving home how young everyone is (not "child soldier" young, but damn young). the cast is full of baby faces (rip babyface). a lot of ww2 shows/movies don't bother casting to reflect this, but i think overlooking that takes away from the overall impact. you browse through some old newspaper articles or photos of soldiers during ww2 enough and you're gonna Regularly get hit with the face of someone who looks like they could've sat in the desk next to you during a high school lit class. a lot of those b&w grinning faces look like kids bc they pretty much were (more so if they lied about their age). you don't really get that in BoB or TP (it's Crazy when the real life pics of the soldiers portrayed in those shows look younger than the actors).

i'm mixed about the tuskegee airmen. what we have, i love (thank you, dee rees). unfortunately, my biggest irk is that it leaves me wanting more of them, which i won't ever get. speaking as a black person (not speaking for All black people, just how i personally feel about it), having them included feels like a catch-22. if they weren't included in any capacity (all while knowing there were whole tuskegee airmen in stalag iii with the white main characters), there'd be a problem. however, including them (all while having these time constraints and not enough focus on them) leads to the feeling of having them "tokenized" (which i can see). there's no world where there'd be 50/50 split (even a 70/30 split) bc, at that point, just give them a show of their own. but there'd still be a general annoyance that big budget ww2 shows are only ever white. on the other hand, hanks and spielberg and orloff and miller and all the directors (except dee rees) are white, and how good of a story about black people are you really gonna get from the perspective of nonblack people? that in mind, i personally don't feel put-off by having the three tuskegee airmen in the posters/trailers/promos, bc i just Know there'd be a whole nother problem if they weren't included in them at all despite being in the show for however long (it'd be even worse if they made their pictures smaller). like i don't work in advertising, but i don't know if a "sweet spot" even exists for something like this. people would be pissed off no matter what imo (i'm also speaking with a bias here bc i had to browse through sooooo many comments written by white guys whining and crying and pissing and shitting themselves once they learned that the tuskegee airmen were gonna be in the show in Any capacity, so i'm just cool knowing they're in shambles rn (and josiah cross- he played richard macon- always goes Wild seeing his face in the promos, and his joy is pretty contagious).

i give it somewhere like a 7.5-8/10. 3.75 stars out of 5. not perfect, subject to change, gotta marinate, but i'm overall happy with it! MotA's best episodes are better than many other individual hbo war episodes. should i be grading it using the overall sum of its parts, not just the different parts? idk, i'm not being paid to grade lol.

[akiraruru]

Hi I saw you was in need of ideas 😁 and I saw you like ragbros (like me) how about hc (platonic)where they have a little sister (like 18-19year old) who is also adopted like kaeya and is also traumatized before she came to dawn winery and she is more traumatized. She is also super powerful like she is a mage (like in historical manhwa) and has electro vision is also a member of knights of favonis. Sorry I went for too much details 😅

If you don't write platonic hc, how about hurt to comfort fic of diluc/ kaeya/Zhongli where the reader thinks he ib love with someone else (like jean for diluc rosaria for kaeya guzhiong for Zhongli).

Sorry for long ask. Take care 😘

A/n: sadly I'm not very good at platonic stuff, hope u like this oneshot tho!

Included: Kaeya, gn reader, Rosaria

Cw/s: mentions of drinking, angst, possibly ooc, I suck at writing angst

Kaeya had always been passionate about the things he loves. Though, recently everything has been going much worse than before, it's like his path throughout life has become rocky, rather than ups and downs, it has really been down these past few days. He went out drinking more and more, constantly visiting his brother's tavern, chugging down beer down his throat hoping to wash down his foul feeling.

You understand what was Kaeya's feeling and you always have, you gave him time, time to think carefully and to rest his mind and body. Though you never expected it to come to this, you never expected it to become this bad; you felt sorry for him.

You tried to talk to him about it to at least help ease some of his foul feelings yet every time you do he just tells you

"I'm fine"

"I'm okay by myself"

"There's no need"

In such a tired tone, he always pushes you away. Why? Why didn't he want your help? Maybe he just wanted some time... But didn't you already give him a week? All these thoughts and questions run through your head all at the same time it's giving you a headache.

During his time at the tavern, he has encountered Rosaria multiple times in a row and yes, you have witnessed some of those times and nothing bad seems to be happening. After all those encounters with each other, Rosaria made the first move; starting the conversation first.

He knew Rosaria, a close friend of that he hasn't connected to in a long while.

"Hey, you alright?" Rosaria asks.

She looked down at the blue haired knight that had his head laying on the table, beer in hand.

"Hmm... no" Kaeya responds, his words coming out wobbly due to the alcohol.

Chats between Rosaria and Kaeya was pretty constant again, sharing small talk whenever they passed each other, talking during breaks... Of course you took notice and didn't seem to mind, I mean, they're friends after all. And they haven't talked to each other for a while so it's understandable.

It's been weeks and kaeya has started to feel better, more upright and was coming back to his usual smug personality. You were happy, proud even, but you felt a little... what do you call it? Jealous? No, that can't be right. You? Jealous of who?

Maybe it's because it was Rosaria that helped Kaeya more than you did, it's great that she helped but during those times, why did Kaeya only talk to Rosaria about it? Why not you? He always pushes you away but why not to Rosaria either? Is there something special about her? Questions are running through your mind again.

He's been out of the house recently too, often meeting up with Rosaria. At this point, you think he sees her more than you, could it be that he fell out of love? Too many questions and possibilities are in your mind, overthinking every little thing.

You decided to confront him during dinner.

"Kaeya.. is there something wrong?" You ask worryingly.

"Nothing's wrong. Why?" Kaya responds.

"It's just that uhm... You've been.. I don't know, distant?" You furrow your brows slightly as you speak.

"Distant, how?" Kaeya tilts his head.

You take a deep breath thinking about saying it or not.

"Do you not love me anymore?" You finally asked.

"What? Of course I love you, why did you think that?" Kaeya replies.

"You've been hanging out with Rosaria a lot too..." You fidget with your fingers.

"Ahh, I see now" He chuckled.

"Wanna know why?" Kaeya smiles.

You nod in reply, desperate for answers. You watched as he got up towards the calendar and pointed out your anniversary and.. oh it's today. Wait, it's today?

Kaeya goes to a cabinet and pulls out two boxes wrapped delicately, each of different colors with a ribbon wrapped around it like a bow, a letter on top of the two boxes.

"What's this?" You ask, inspecting the box.

"I wanted to make up for all the things you did for me" Kaeya smiles softly.

The letter contained 3 paragraphs about his undying love for you, alongside a kiss mark on the bottom.

"I needed some help so I went to Rosaria" He explains.

You open the boxes, careful not to damage it. The 1st box contains a silver/gold (what color you want) necklace below a tulip, the necklace has your birthstone as it's pendant, shaped into a heart, your name and Kaeya's was faintly sketched onto the back of the pendant.

2nd box contained earrings that matched the necklace, right below a rose.

"Wow... I.." You were left utterly speechless.

Now you were the one feeling guilty, especially since it's your anniversary and you don't have nothing for him

"Don't worry about your gift, you being here is enough" Kaeya brings you into a tight, warm embrace.

[snowdice]

Creased Hoodies (Chapter 12: The End (For Now)) [Folds in Time Universe]

Fandom: Sander Sides

Relationships: Logan/Virgil, Janus/Patton (background), Remus & Roman  (background)

Characters:

Main: Logan, Virgil

Appear: Patton, Roman

Mentioned: Janus, Remus

Summary: Virgil just wanted to go on his planned summer research trip to do an anthropological study in 2005 America. However, when he is taken off course by an unknown enemy, he ends up stranded in the summer of 2018 with no way to get back the the 44rd century. Luckily, 2018 happens to be where a certain illegal time agency is based, and he might have an in with one of its agents.

This is the intermission for the story Folds in Paper. It takes place between Folds in Paper Book 1 and Book 2. It also takes place after the first 5 chapter of “Messages for a Hacker” which are side stories in the universe. Check all of this and more out on my Folds in Time Master Post.

Chapter Summary: It's finally time for Virgil to return home.

Notes: Time travel AU

This is a fic I’ve been writing on study breaks that you have probably all already seen at this point. I’ve slightly edited it for wording and grammar, but not for content from my previous posts. Feel free to send in asks to direct it because I’m not 100% sure where this is going and you can help decide if you feel so inclined! You can see the process I went through to build this at this link.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

It took Logan a few days to ensure the timepiece and the distortion device were not at risk of blowing up the fabric of time itself. It took about a week more for him to properly study the distortion device Patton had brought home.

“It’s similar to what little we’ve seen of TPI technology,” Logan concluded. He debriefed them all while sitting on the couch with a notebook in hand. “It’s derived from the same technology unlike our time travel devices, which explains why it can block TPI timepieces but not ours. However, it has its differences, and this model in particular is rather shoddily made. While it was meant to create disorder, I doubt almost ripping time apart was its intended purpose, though that is almost what it did.”

“So, you’re thinking whoever made that is from my time then?” Virgil asked.

“Most likely,” Logan agreed. “Though it could always be a Roman and Remus type situation where the culprit was originally from another time period and ended up in your time accidently. However, the origins of this device were certainly the 4500s.”

Virgil glanced at the device set on the coffee table in front of them. It looked more like a 21st century light switch than something with the power to almost destroy time. Even though Logan had been able to study it, there were still many questions Virgil doubted he had an answer to. They didn’t even know why it had been made.

“Do you think whoever made this trapped me here on purpose?” Virgil asked.

“It is a possibility,” Logan mused. “You do work with the TPI and with Janus, a time agent who both is often caught in the chaos these devices create and who runs into Patton frequently. Plus, you know Remus, Roman’s brother, though we didn’t know of the connection before you came to be here. Also, we had a correspondence before this situation. It’s all quite a coincidence if it was not by design.”

“But why?” Virgil asked. “Sure, I’m connected to all of this, but I’m no time agent. All I am to the TPI is a walking history book. I’m not actually involved.”

“Well,” Logan said. “Perhaps someone knows something we do not. Or at least something we do not know yet.”

“Or maybe it’s just a happy accident!” Patton said, though Virgil felt it was more to break the sudden tension that had befallen the room.

“Accident or not,” Logan continued, “we do now have a solution to you being stuck here. I’ve managed to use this device to recalibrate my calculations and pin down its sister device’s current location in this time with much more accuracy. We now just need to get it and turn it off to allow Virgil to leave with his own timepiece.”

“Where is it?” Roman asked.

“A local trash dump,” Logan replied.

“Well, that should be easy enough to get,” Patton said. “Give Roman and I the exact coordinates and we can go and get it now.”

“Wait,” Roman protested. “Why are we the only ones who have to dig through a garbage dump?”

Patton gave him a meaningful look.

“Oh!” Roman said, eyes lighting up. “Oh right!” Then he scowled, remembering the detail that he’d be digging through garbage. “Fine,” he sighed. “The things I do in the name of…”

“Adventure!” Patton cut him off. “It’s an adventure!”

“We’re time travelers. There are so many more exciting adventuring opportunities than dumpster diving, Pat-Pat,” he whined, but he still got up. “I’ll go get changed.”

Patton stood up then and handed Logan his phone, so Logan could download the location of the distortion device onto it.

“We’ll text you when we’re heading back!” Patton said after changing and getting his phone back. “I’ll make sure to give you a 15- and 5-minute warning.” Patton said this with a wink. Virgil immediately hid his face in his hands.

“Do you think the TPI is hiring,” Logan asked as the door closed behind Patton and Roman. “I’d love to move to a different century without those two.”

“Time agents don’t usually live in 4500s,” Virgil said, face still hidden behind his hands. “They’d probably still place you in this century, especially since you’re comfortable here.”

“No escaping them then,” Logan sighed.

“Mmm,” was Virgil’s response.

He felt Logan shift on the couch next to him and a warm palm touched his wrist, gently tugging his hand away from his face. Virgil chose not to resist and let the hand fall away with a sigh. Logan smiled at him when his face was revealed, and Virgil smiled back despite how he could still feel heat in his cheeks.

“You will be going home this evening, I imagine,” Logan said.

“Yeah,” Virgil agreed. It hadn’t fully dawned on him yet. He’d grown used to living here in the past few weeks. He was used to briefly living in other places and times, but here had been different. He hadn’t felt like the observer he usually was. Because Logan, Patton, and Roman knew about time travel and what he really did, he’d had a chance to almost fit in with them. It would be weird to be back in his own time.

“I would like to give you a gift before you go,” Logan said, “If you’ll allow it.”

“Oh,” Virgil said, “uh, okay.”

Logan nodded and reached into his hoodie pocket. He glanced over at Virgil once he’d pulled his closed fist back out. “It is a ring, by the way, but this is not a marriage proposal.”

“Well, I’d certainly hope not,” said Virgil dryly. “An impulse elopement would be off brand for both of us.”

Logan grinned. “Very true,” he agreed. Then, he opened his palm revealing a small, plain ring as promised.

“What is it?” Virgil asked.

“This is an emergency time travel device,” Logan explained. “It’s not particularly complex. It can only take you here to this room between 2 weeks and one year from now, but if you ever find yourself in need, you can use it.”

He offered the ring and Virgil opened his palm. He studied the ring once it was placed in his hand. It was warm, though if that was from Logan’s touch or the technology running in it, Virgil did not know. It was surprisingly light and a rose gold color.

“It also has some security measures,” Logan continued. “It wouldn’t do to make an emergency time travel device that someone else might easily take from you. So, it’s designed to disappear when you put it on. You’ll still be able to feel it and take it off whenever you wish. It will become visible again once it leaves your finger.”

“An invisible ring?” Virgil asked, studying it even more curiously now.

“Yes,” Logan said with a smile. “Full disclosure, it is designed to store your space-time coordinates for up to 48 hours, but as I said, you can take it off whenever you wish and… I promise not to use it against you.”

Virgil looked away from the ring and back up at him. “Okay,” he agreed, surprising himself with the ease at which he accepted this. “Can I put it on?”

Logan nodded, and Virgil slipped the band on his finger. As promised, it disappeared as soon as it passed his first knuckle. He could still feel its unfamiliar weight on his finger.

“You must turn it three times counterclockwise to activate the time travel,” Logan said, making Virgil look up from the seemingly empty space on his finger. “It would drop you pretty much exactly where you are sitting now if you did.”

“Thank you,” Virgil said. He did not feel those words were enough to say when gifted something as impressive as this, but he hoped his tone said enough.

“Don’t use it against me?” Logan asked with a half-smile, and only then did Virgil realize just how much trust was being put onto him. He’d just been given a device that was linked directly to their base of operations despite Virgil working with the TPI.

Virgil shook his head. “I won’t,” he swore.

Deciding to throw his nervousness and embarrassment over last time to the wind, he shot forward to kiss Logan quickly on the lips.

They bumped noses and Logan’s glasses ended up askew in the process, but Logan didn’t seem to mind judging by his delighted laugh when they parted.

“Thank you,” Virgil said again because he still didn’t know what else to say.

“You’re welcome,” Logan replied.

~

The ring continued to sit on Virgil’s finger, invisible but heavy even after Patton and Roman returned from the dump with the device that had caused this whole mess. It was still there when Logan turned off the distortion device and Virgil’s timepiece reactivated. The knowledge of its existence was always in the back of his mind even once he’d made it home and gave the TPI and university an excuse as to why he’d left his trip early. It would stay there even when he received an email from an “unknown sender” making sure he got home okay.

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Folds in Time Universe Master Post

My Main Masterpost

[raven-6-10]

@a-world-in-grey

Right, after some deep diving through FFXV wiki and some research into hereditary titles, inheritance laws and various historical and fictional courts, I think I have a general idea of what I want the Niflheimr court in general and the Aldercapt dynasty in particular to look like.

***

Let's start with the inheritance laws.

I settled on agnatic-cognatic (male-preference) primogeniture i.e. the throne goes to the eldest son, then his brothers by order of age, then his eldest sister and so on. And since the Aldercapts don't have Bahamut artificially pruning the family tree to one child per generation in recent centuries, there are actually people related to the Emperor with a legitimate claim to the throne.

(Side-note: some pruning is still happening as a result of children competing for the throne. Iedolas' brothers and one sister had died before he even came to the throne.)

The issue here is that Iedolas is an ambitious man - even if he's not obsessed with reviving Solheim (at the moment) - and wants to leave a legacy. Which means he wants his heir to be his child/grandchild.

You raised a valid point about Iedolas having children before that point. Which. Uhmm. Canon doesn't exactly help here. The only thing we know for certain is that he had at least one son (b. 720 ME) who died at the earliest in 748 ME (because that's the birth year for Solara Antiquum) but was definitely dead when the game kicked off in 756 ME. Considering Iedolas is from Mors' generation that's kind of late to have your first child.

So!

I'm gonna make an executive decision here.

Iedolas did have children before that with his wife. Specifically two sons and a daughter. Possibly some grandchildren even. However they all died due to combination of illnesses, accidents and deliberate action. At that point he tried for another child with his wife, which canonically ended up with her death from childbirth complications within a year. In this au, the son in question was born early - resulting in underdeveloped lungs plus host of other health issues - and died as a young teenager due to pneumonia.

Hence, the order for Besithia to create an heir for him.

***

Situation at the Imperial court is surprisingly stable at the moment.

Just because the Emperor has no children doesn't mean he has no heirs*. The current heir presumptive is his younger sister but since she's rather elderly, the throne is actually probably going to be inherited by his great-niece. The woman in question is from a high-ranking house, married to a man from similarly titled house, has a range of useful political and military connections and a daughter of her own at the time of Prompto's birth.

(Iedolas had been planning to betroth Prompto to his great-great-niece and name the mother a regent just in case he dies before his son is an adult.)

So most of the politicking is currently about getting into the good graces of the imperial heiress and discrediting the rivals. The most opposition is from warmongers (Ulldor) as she's much less militant than the current emperor, so will likely focus on consolidating the imperial gains in Tenebrae and addressing social issues instead of continuing the conquest.

***

As for where that would leave Prompto (or whatever Iedolas would rename him)?

I'm headcanoning that Niflheimr royals don't introduce their kids to public until they are at least 10. Before that there might be rumours, especially if the Empress is obviously pregnant, but nobody will confirm anything outright.

There's a bunch of historical reasons behind that, but mostly it's very useful if you need to, erm, adjust the family tree.

And right now it means that Aldercapt still has time to get his kid back instead of writing him off as a lost cause and trying again or just formally declaring a new heir from among his relatives. Because nobody will bat an eyelash on the boy not being seen before his formal introduction.

If the Nifs actually recover him, he will be raised in a secluded estate on the outskirts of Gralea with staff being responsible for his upbringing and Iedolas visiting often to check on him.

***

*I was inspired by the House Arryn. Somebody once joked that even if you are five generations removed from lordship, you can still end up being the Heir Arryn. A peasant sneezes in the Vale and they've lost half their house members.