#until i come back with a proper fanfic

[that-nerd-who-writes-fanfiction]

Y’know that one scene in A Servant of Two Masters where Merlin tells Leon he’s off to kill the king and Leon just laughs

What if Merlin realises how much power that actually has and just starts telling Leon the truth instead of coming up with excuses

Like

Leon: Hey Merlin, where are you off to?

Merlin: Just going to fight a gryphon!

Leon: ha! Have fun!

Or

Leon: Merlin, why do you have highly illegal poison?

Merlin: it’s only poison mixed with alcohol, otherwise it’s just great sidhe repellent!

Leon, chuckling fondly: Alright, as you were then.

Or

Leon: Merlin! Where were you?

Merlin: nowhere interesting, just practicing sorcery.

And Leon believes he’s just keeping the gag going every time.

Which also makes the poetry scene so much better because Leon is used to Merlin being funny, never giving proper excuses and joking about high treason crimes.

So when Merlin is so flustered that he blurts out poetry, the only possible explanation can be that something Merthur is happening and Leon wants no part in it.

It also got me thinking about post Camlan when Merlin and Arthur get back to Camelot (I’m in denial, shut up) when Leon finds out Merlin has magic.

He waits at the gates for Merlin with his arms folded looking like a disappointed mother, then Merlin stops and realises every one of his “excuses” came back to bite him in the arse.

Until Leon has to explain to Arthur that he’s known Merlin is a sorcerer for a while now, but always thought it was a joke because “it’s Merlin”

Merlin: in my defence, I never lied.

Leon: you confessed to multiple crimes!

Merlin: you let me get away with them!

Arthur: huh?

Leon: Sire, I can explain.

Merlin: can you?

Leon: can you?!

I’m tempted to turn this into a fanfic if anyone would want to read it

It’s out now on Ao3 - The One Where Leon Knowingly and Unknowingly Becomes an Accomplice to Treason

[lizzyk137]

Picture Perfect- A Sepencer Reid Fanfic (Spencer Reid X Reader)

Summary: After months of not hearing from Spencer you move on, breaking both of your hearts. What he wasn't expecting was a frantic call from you one night. Warnings: Fluff, slight panic.

Want to read more, visit my Masterlist!

"Spence, please tell me you're going home after this." JJ said, eyes squinted as she watched him fiddle with stuff on his desk.

He cleared his throat and nodded before answering. "I will. I just want to make sure everything is ready for when I come back into work tomorrow."

"Are you thinking it's going to be a long night?" Morgan interjected jokingly.

Spencer just rolled his eyes and went back to making sure everything was in its proper spot.

Rossi came down the stairs and headed towards the small gathering that as forming around Spencer. His brows raised at Spencer dawdling. "Still avoiding things?"

"No, I'm just straightening up before leaving for the day."

"Reid, we're profilers, we know you're avoiding going home." Rossi smirked. "Go home, she's waiting for you."

"Fine, I will." Spencer collected his belongings and headed to the elevators knowing his team was watching him go. He headed towards the bus stop after being cleared to leave, his thoughts going a mile a minute.

He had been away for seven months working at the Las Vegas's FBU headquarters, helping train and work on cases. It at first started off as a case the whole team was invited in but as time went on trying to catch a team of killers, Spencer enjoyed being near his mom and decided to take on mentoring for a few months. He thought it was a smart move, but he never took into account of one thing. You.

He left one day then never came back. That was how you saw it. He didn't answer his phone for three weeks, his head focused solely on catching the monsters behind all the killings. All you had gotten back as a reply from the many calls and texts was a few sentences telling you that he would be staying there for a few months and that he was okay. At first you were okay with the decision, knowing what he was doing was for the good of the city and that what he was teaching was saving lives. But the texts and calls started to slow down and eventually you would count yourself lucky if he answered you back a week later.

Spencer was so busy helping on cases that he would forget to text you back, but he thought you understood. It wasn't until he came home to find the shared apartment empty of your belongings. At first, he was frantic, searching for you everywhere, but that turned to desperation and then quickly turned to a broken heart. You wouldn't reply back to any of his calls or texts, and he tried to get Penelope to find you, which he gave him a hard no a stern glare before turning back to her computers.

He didn't understand what he did wrong until the team pulled him to the side and explained it.

You were hurt by him. The replies became nonexistent, and you gave up trying to make things work.

He was a fool. A stupid fool.

He was almost home when his phone rang from an unknown caller. He ignored it and continued walking from the bus stop to his apartment when the phone rang again from the same number. Sighing, he answered and put it to his ear. "Hello?" The voice that answered made his feet stop.

"Spence?" You called out after a few moments of silence, your voice breathy.

He cleared his throat. "Y/N?"

"Spence... I need help... Please come..." He heard a loud crash, his heart stopping.

"Y/N, where are you? I'm on the way." His feet had already started racing to his parked car.

You gasped out the address, as he started the car racing to you. He made it to the apartment within a few minutes, drawing his gun as he made it up the stairs to the apartment. He heard another crash from inside, and before he could think, his foot was kicking in the door, and he was clearing the room. He saw you on the floor, your back to him as he heard you cry out in pain.

He was by your side in a second as he turned you slowly over, your large belly coming into frame. His eyes went wide as you looked at him, tears in your eyes as you clutched his arm.

"What's going on?" His eyes searching your face for answers.

"Hospital. I need go." You said through gritted teeth as your grip tightened on his arms.

Spencer quickly shook his head, and then cleared his throat. He helped you up onto your feet, grabbing the purse and diaper bag by the door that you directed him to get. He quickly locked up to find you trying to make your way down the stairs, if he wasn't in such a shock, he would laugh at you as you waddled around.

You grabbed the railing and cried out. He was by your side in a second, picking you up bridal style and carrying you out the door.

"Any news?" Hotch asked, as he sat down next to Spencer in the hospital's waiting room.

"No, they're running some tests, so I stepped out." Spencer was crouched down, his elbows on his knees his eyes focused on his clasped hands and the ground.

He had been struggling the past three hours to come up with answers that were already answered. The baby was his and you tried so hard to tell him but when he stopped replying you left to start the next step in your life alone.

Everyone knew but him. They had visited you daily to make sure you were okay, and they became your family, the only thing that was missing was Spencer. You knew you needed him; you were still in love with him, but he hurt you and you needed more than just an apology.

"Has it happened?!" He heard Penelope's voice scream as he looked up to see a giant pile of balloons headed his way.

"Not yet they're running some tests."

"Oh good! I can't miss out on our baby's arrival."

Another hour went by, and Reid was called to go into one of the hospital rooms. He lingered by the door for a second before pushing the door in to find you lying in bed, a beautiful sweaty mess as you reached out to him. His hand quickly found yours and he brought it to his lips. "How are you feeling?

"I'm feeling better after taking the epidural." A minute went by before you continued, your voice a whisper. "I'm still mad at you. You left for so long and no word. But I can't do this without you."

Spencer brought your hand to his cheek. "I know baby. I'm never leaving you again. I've been a wreck without you. You and our baby are my first priority."

You just nodded. "We have a lot to discuss later but I'm getting sleepy."

"Get some rest, my love."

Seven hours and two broken fingers later, Spencer was watching his daughter and son swaddled as they slept, their hands holding each other's.

"They're perfect." JJ cooed.

Rossi wiped a small tear from his eye, as he gave a big pat on Spencer's back. The team had been watching the babies for about an hour as you slept.

"You're going to be a good father." Hotch smiled at Spencer before lightly touching Spencer's son's hand.

"I hope so." He looked at his kids, his daughter yawning slightly, tears filling his eyes as he realized how lucky he was. He never thought he would have kids, he thought he would never see you again, never thought you would allow him back into your life. He knew things were probably going to be rocky, a lot of conversations were going to be needed, but you had said you wanted him in your life along with being with his children.

"Spencer?" Your voice called out and him and the team looked up to see you with a big smile, your phone pointed at them as you took a photo of them. "Picture perfect."

[laurey257]

Good Omens fanfic recs that ease the pain. (All complete, canon-compliant)

I am an avid reader and I’ve been combing the floods of new (awesome) things hitting Archive and similar to find what best eases the pain of That Episode. Here’s the best canon-compliant and complete ones that give some soothing to the angst of our angel and demon parting:

**This was a hard decision but I am excluding works in progress since they need time to mature—all these are complete /compliant and can be invested in without fear.**

Jesus, Etc.

This one had me howling.  Crowley runs into a frantic Aziraphale with Jesus at a Barbenheimer premiere who he is frantically keeping busy to prevent the Second Coming.  A battle of the wills with pop songs in the Bentley, Taylor Swift, Kenergy, sushi, a nativity play and a magic show are the least of the insanity that comes next.  (Kudos for the awesome cameo from Mrs. Sandwich.)

To the Universe

This one is a 22-chapter, complete, canon-compliant season 3 full arc that can take the edge off for everyone who is internally screaming that we have years to wait to see all this resolve.  Really can’t say enough about this one.  It tied up every loose end.  Certain parts reminded me of Pratchett and the ending had me on the edge of my chair and cheering out loud.  (bonus extra in a hilarious treatment of Jesus in Tadfield that has him turning himself into a teen named Dave.) This could have been season 3 in another timeline.

Separate Ways

A sweet, short little one where Aziraphale has Muriel checking up on a devastated Crowley from the bookshop, and they finally at least talk.  No resolution, but it felt so nice to read. 

The Second Coming

One-shot (but around 7000 words in chapter format) that is canon-compliant.  Aziraphale “awakens” in the elevator (think ox ribs but sexually) and yeets himself back to earth to roger Crowley six ways from Sunday.  Smutty, so don’t read this one aloud to your parents.  (naked apology dance reference in here made my eyes fall out.)

Heaven is not fit to house a love

A sweet little one with a *small* deviation from canon (that seemed ok because they have a good point.) Crowley had never told Aziraphale about the way the angels managed his trial OR about what he saw in the Heavenly files with Muriel.  He jams his way into the elevator (telling the Metatron to get the next one) and tells him.

Not for all my Little Words

An adorable one where Aziraphale, realizing he screwed up, chases Crowley through loudspeakers and other people’s phones through Europe using famous love quotes until he gets his attention (and some forgiveness.)

Everywhere

Oh so lovely! A longer one-shot where Azi realizes that management is not what he cracked it up to be (they tell him nothing.) So he saves Crowley instead from a Heavenly asassination attempt. (Maggie, nina and anathema help!)

A Proper Apology

One where the Angel simply calls over and over until they really talk.  (Or imagine the idiots simply just used the phone.)

Cause you like me too much and I like you

A sweet little one where Aziraphale quietly resigns, has a chat with Gabriel and Beez in the bookshop, and does the apology dance.

A sweet little daydream Azi has in the elevator about apologizing to Crowley in the Ressurectionist pub  before waking up and realizing oh crap he is still in Heaven.

Did I miss any other good ones?  Tell me?

[bun-z-bakery]

(Repost from my abandoned account) these are just my personal head canons for dogday. this is a survivor au

(All characters are over 18 btw)

-dogday sometimes has dog like tendencies, like growling, barking etc.

-he doesn't remember a lot about his life as a worker but will share stories he remembers of his human life once you two become close.

-man is like a love sick puppy. First you save him? Give him legs? AND a home?! And his friends are here too?! You really are his angel.

-he's very protective of his angel. He can't have anyone take them away or even hurt them. Plus all those years locked away, he can't loose you, you're his hope.

-this man will most certainly plan his confession, script and all. Maybe you're away at work and this is something he's been working on for a while. He's always bringing you little gifts on his hunting trips (depending on if you like to collect rocks and such) but this dude went out of his way to find the best of the best. Even somehow found flowers beautiful enough to almost rival your beauty, keyword: almost.

-he enjoys spending time with you, poppy and kissy, he enjoys playing outside with you three, even if you guys have been out of the factory for years already. They still enjoy the outside world.

-I know bro is huge, like dude is taller than an American door way (according to some measurements fans have made, hes 9'5) if you're a shorty (like me 5 feet even😭) he will most definitely pick you up and carry you like a dogtoy. He likes the feeling of carrying his angel, it gives him a sense of pride doing so. Even if you accidentally hit the ceiling or he needs to really get down so you don't hit the top of the doorframe, he will always apologize or joke about it.

-he's a cuddler, he LOVES cuddling! He has his own giant dog bed in your shared room, but he prefers to sleep on your shared bed. If you're away from work and he's eepy, he'll pass out on your bed because it smells like you. Your scent keeps him at bay until you come home. Poor guy will shoot up and push anyone out of his way to be the first to get to you! He sits there on the floor waiting for his mandatory headpats and kisses as soon as he hears your keys.

-it takes his brain a few minutes to properly turn on. After all those years he finally gets proper sleep, I can imagine you waking up first and getting ready for the day to prepare breakfast for the group and you poke him, trying to wake him. He'll mumble some random stuff about not letting rats do taxes then fall back asleep only to be woken again by your pokes still talking nonsense. I can also see him sometimes waking up confused, you know like when you wake up your parents and they're mad for no reason asking what's wrong while gasping for air? (Just me?) I can see him being THAT dead asleep bhahsha

-my take on the survivor au is more of a modern take (as in yes the factory closed years also but reader is possibly in early to late 20s sometime in 20xx / non specified year) so they weren't an employee but probably knew someone like a family member who worked there or was dared to enter the factory (we'll see if I ever post my fanfic haha as these hcs kinda tie into that story) so dogday being alive in the 80s or 90s he probably has like the old school idea of love and attempts to swoon you as such. The flowers, cheesy pick up lines.

-I can imagine because he's not up to date with the newer terms and he might be confused while trying to seem cool haha. "Angel what does rizzler mean?" (Poor peepaw)

- Personally I love the theory that DogDay is an ex worker aka Rich. Which is probably why he was the leader of the smiling critters. Because he was mature enough to make sure everyone was in line/well behaved, I also think some other workers were turned into the mascots too (obviously) but maybe they trusted Rich more so they just threw him into the dance circle and hope that he'd be a good leader.

- this one ties into the first one btw! I like the think that maybe he was one of the mascots when he worked there. Like a guy in the costume who worked with the kids (hence the zipper, how else would the workers get into the bigger body suits?)

- I like to think DogDay likes when Angel calls him by his old human name. Maybe once he opens up more about his human life (or at least bringing up some of the memories he still has) he just randomly brings up his name when talking about a memory and hearing Angel repeat his name back, he'd probably like hearing it. It might make him feel like less of a monster in a sense. Granted I think he wouldn't care about what Angel calls him but he would most definitely prefer for them to alternate. Like you know when someone makes you mad and you use their real name instead of their nickname? He'd hate for his Angel to get mad, especially at him. But when living with 3 other people it can get a bit hectic.

"DogDay! Did you bring mud into the house?!"

"N-No!... "

*silence*

"RICH, WHERE ARE YOU?!"

*footsteps are heard and DogDay bolts out the door*

- Now this head canon I have can go either one of two ways, right? Hear me out. Listen up, listen carefully, and listen closely. (Lmk if you got that reference) ok so back to the zipper! I think the zipper just opens to his organs tbh like the zipper was just left functional in case he needed to be "repaired internally". BUT another thought, I also can see there being some sort of barrier! You know those stuff animals who have their stuffing blocked by a barrier so it doesn't fall out but the zipper opens to a compartment where you can store items? I kinda think that's whats there tbh, I mean it makes sense. What if one of the kids opened the zipper by mistake? Surely there would be a barrier just in case.

- as I mentioned in the last hc post, I can see him trying to swoon Angel in the old romantic type of way. I can see him pinning after Angel hard, at first they wouldn't get the hint, they'd probably think he's thinks he's indebted to them for rescuing them and giving the 3 of them a better and new life. But quickly they realize bro is in love. Of course poppy teases him about it too at some point lol. He doesn't really try to hide it either. I can see poppy and kissy thinking it's sweet and first then they get annoyed once you're the only thing he talk about lol.

- You're married. That's all! No but I can see in his mind you two are basically married. He'd probably want to have new custom star collars made for both of you or maybe even a ring for you and a matching collar or something for him to wear and propose. Of course it will bother him a bit because he can't go out with you, take you on dates or show you off but he trusts you (even though he gets jealous when you smell like someone else) he basically tries his best with what you guys have (If only there was a holiday that came once a year where you guys could go out dressed in customs without looking like freaks).

- He looks like the type of guy who would love pasta. I'm not sure why or how this even came into mind but I just feel like that's what he often wants for dinner. Poppy would probably eat fruit for dinner, kissy isn't really picky, but Dogday would probably be asking for either pasta or meat. Also I think Angel would be hesitant to feed certain foods to Dogday because you know, he's a dog (not really but hear me out) but because he acts like one at times I could see Angel being like haha nope you can't eat this!

*Angel eating chocolate cookies*

"May I have some?" *cutely pouts*

"I don't want you dying, love."

"You know I'm not actually a dog...right?"

ok ok you got me there" (they just really didn't wanna share lol)

- tbh this is more of a general head canon for the toys but I seeing as they had to resort to c*nnibalism. They clearly need food and water to survive. I think catcap was probably keep Dogday alive as a "lol now look at you now, look at me" (yes that's a BP reference) moment but only feeds him when he felt like it, since food is basically scarce in that place. I think that their human organs were transferred over but little things like veins, teeth, tongue, blood vessels basically anything that's not a major organ was made artificially and connected in a sense to those major organs making them function as such.

Yeah that's kinda it lol, there might be some more parts to this if I can think of anything else! But yeahhh that's kinda my hc and rambles lol (I tend to ramble a lot especially when I have to give context, I apologize!)

[the-ancient-dragons]

Meet the SwiftScales!

They're a Fantribe designed by myself and the wonderful @oh-dear-charlie (they exist solely because of her, so if you liked my first fanfic series you have her to thank!)

Details, explanation, and closeups below; otherwise, next week are the PineWings! See you then!

Fun fact: the SwiftScales came about because my friend and I mistook the "design a fan character" contest for book 10 for a "design a fan tribe" contest. We did this and one thing led to another and all of a sudden I was staring at a 100k Word doc...

I might do the proper WoF-style dragon guide description later, since I'm planning on redoing their base, so for now I'll just give you the quick basics:

Built for tight turns and deep dives, the grey-coloured SwiftScales are masters of both sea and sky. Hunting trips can last months long as they fly the seas in search for food. When they find a suitable shoal they join birds in diving for fish. They catch just about anything they can carry, from huge nets of mackerel to the largest tuna. Their sense of direction is never wrong, so no matter how far they stray from home they can always find their way back.

Home for SwiftScales used to be on Pyrrhia, before the Scorching, but they were driven out when neighbouring tribes wanted their territory. The SwiftScales, who spent more time out at sea than on the continent, didn't have any qualms leaving. They landed on a new continent on the other side of the world. They named it 'Ventus' after the frigid winds that never seemed to stop blowing.

They stayed there undetected for five thousand years (I was great at planning when I was 14) until... well, I could explain, but then we'd be here forever. You can read the full 5-book story here, but that is completely optional. Like I said, I was 14 when I started writing this, so the quality isn't the best until maybe the third book.

That's enough off-topic. Like I said, I've got more life studies coming your way next week, with a fantribe called the PineWings. Perhaps you remember a certain Hemlock? >:)

[heliads]

because I'm in the mood for Pain could i request a nikolai fanfic with a grisha reader. they were childhood friends, but then one day reader was captured by fjerda and after they find the cure for parem they come back to ravka and don't think they're good enough for nikolai because they were too weak to resist the drug. i hope you're having a lovely day!

'only in my dreams ' - nikolai lantsov

masterlist

There’s an old saying, one that’s been tossed around by generations of practitioners of the Small Science and otkazat’sya alike, one that you’ve heard since you were small and keep hearing as you get older. There’s no good place to be a Grisha. It’s been used as a weapon and an assurance at times, a claim that you don’t belong and a reminder that life doesn’t really get better, so you might as well enjoy who you are wherever you are.

Right now, though, it just feels all too real. When you were a child growing up in the middle of nowhere in the Ravkan countryside, no one trusted a Grisha. When you were brought to Os Alta to train in the Little Palace, the glimmering city didn’t feel like a home either, just a place where you would be brought up to fight in someone else’s wars. You could go anywhere you want, but it would never quite be enough. You find your home in people you trust, but no place will ever want a witch.

And, rotting in a Fjerdan cell, you think it’s especially true now. You pity the Grisha who were born in Fjerda, and wonder how they would have managed to grow up in a country whose own army was dedicated to the cause of hunting them down. It wasn’t all that great to grow up empowered in Ravka, either, but at least there was somewhere for you to go once you were discovered, and that was the Little Palace. In Fjerda, the only place that newly discovered Grisha go is the grave.

That, or the cells, and right now you’re wishing that you were six feet under instead of here right now. Other than wanting them dead, the Fjerdan government seems fascinated by just how Grisha work. They’ve managed to get their hands on jurda parem, and you’re a part of their latest batch of test subjects.

You last received the drug a few days ago, and already the debilitating ache of withdrawal is starting to press against your bones, tearing against your sinews and skin until all you can think of is when you last had it and where you could get some more. The Fjerdan scientists are single-minded in their approach to treating Grisha with parem; exact doses are carefully measured out and only delivered in the precise windows of time that they desire. Once medicated, the captive Grisha will have their hands unchained for slim opportunities to practice their gift, most likely to build or destroy or torture other captives as directed by the Fjerdan guards.

Eventually, the parem will wear off, and then you’ll be back to where you are right now:  curled into a corner of your freezing cell, desperate for warmth or parem or anything more than this heavy, never-ending horror.

You used to be more than this, you know. You used to be a proper Grisha, one who could never imagine themselves as you are now, exhausted and starving and addicted to a drug no one even knew existed until just a short time ago. You had been brought to Os Alta when you were quite young, so for the most part, the Little Palace was the only life you had ever really known.

And what a life it had been; your mind drained by the constant tests of parem, you slip into a dreamy half-sleep, letting the memories cloud your consciousness so you don’t have to think about whatever horrors await you.

Os Alta had been beautiful. Ravka has been a struggling country for quite some time, and will likely go on eking out its days one by one for quite some time, but the royal family spared no expense on its capital city. Even the Little Palace, the smaller and humbler variant of the Grand Palace, was intricate and masterful, a testament to the artistic prowess of the Ravkan people when its creators went long enough without hunger pangs to focus on their craft.

You can almost imagine you’re there if you close your eyes. The sensations come back to you as if in a dream:  the rustle of your kefta as you walk, the smooth edges of the cobblestones where they’d been worn down by hundreds of feet, the sharp voices of your tutors, the thrill in your veins as you used your powers. You can still remember when it had been a joyous thing to use your powers uncorrupted by parem. Now, every tug to the making at the heart of the world feels like a betrayal of your own people, a sick and terrible thing that should not be practiced by any living thing.

You turn your mind away from that harsh reality, opting instead to remember the good days, the golden memories when the worst thing you could imagine was doing badly in one of Botkin’s training sessions. Since you’d been at the Little Palace since you were small, you had plenty of friends across the branches of the Small Science, plus one extra boy whose eyes used to shine like sunlight off of the True Sea. He wasn’t a Grisha though. He was–

He was a prince.

Nikolai Lantsov wasn’t supposed to visit the Little Palace. Truth be told, he wasn’t supposed to leave the Grand Palace at all except when instructed by the king and queen or one of his tutors. However, the young prince didn’t seem to care for rules, and rare was the day when he wasn’t sneaking off to pass days by his own volition. More often than not, his errant path brought Nikolai to you.

The two of you had been friends for years. Never mind the fact that a friendship between a Grisha and a prince would be strictly forbidden, no one ever caught on and the two of you were quite obliged to keep it that way. Nikolai was brilliant in mind and spirit. When you think about the happiest you’d ever been, the days you wished could stretch on forever, it’s the time you spent with Nikolai that was the best of all. Sometimes, you snuck him an extra kefta and the two of you would explore the Little Palace, or you’d run around the countryside surrounding Os Alta. You’d swap stories and little trinkets or gifts, and you’d smile like everything was alright, because when you were with Nikolai, it was.

Then he got older, and you did too. Nikolai stopped being able to visit you as often. You grew through the ranks of the Grisha, and were sent on missions with increasing frequency. Sometimes, you’d be away from Os Alta for months at a time, and only come back to find out that Nikolai had just left on a similar errand. Your paths started diverging, and even though every time you saw him, it was like the days hadn’t passed at all, both of you had growing up to do, and unfortunately, that didn’t involve each other.

You still held out hope that maybe he would become king and find a way to loop you back into his busy days. Just recently, he had returned from his years at school (and, as the rumor has it, at sea), and you had hoped that maybe you’d be able to spend more time together. All you had was one more mission, then you’d be back in Ravka for many months. Surely you could use that time.

The Fates didn’t seem keen on that happy of an ending for you, however. Your mission went awry. Fjerdans intercepted your group. You distracted the enemy soldiers long enough for the rest of your party to get away, but you were captured and brought back to Fjerda. You had assumed you’d be killed, but instead, you were sent to their experimental division and given your first dose of parem.

So the angels fall. Now, the idea that you could be remotely close to a prince’s best friend is laughable. If you could see him now, you have no doubt that he would still be the same golden, glorious boy he had always been, now imbued with the confidence of years wearing the crown. By contrast, you are huddled in a cell, your powers harshly amplified by the corrupting influence of jurda parem.

No, Nikolai Lantsov certainly wouldn’t want you now. The only way you can have him still is in your dreams, those beautiful fragments of imagination in which both of you are still young and blameless. He hasn’t fled Os Alta for a false name and a life at sea. You haven’t been captured and forced to undergo cruel tests. Both of you are happy and whole, and nothing bad has ever happened to either of you. What a dream indeed. 

A dream, but dreams are all you have. The dream of being back with Nikolai is a good one. So, too, is the dream that someone will come to take you out of this place. You’ve had this one many times before, and it slips over you like sleep. It would happen quickly, the break-out. The Fjerdan guards would shout in surprise, then be quickly silenced. You’d hear the rattle of fast footsteps, and the door to your cell would fly open. All doors would be open, and all Grisha would live. You’d run far away, to a place that would finally want you again. All would be well.

You’re comfortable with it, not bothering to open your eyes lest you lose track of the dream. Only– maybe the parem is still lingering in your system, because you swear the faux sounds of fighters are louder than they usually are in the dreams. It’s not real, but the shouts do seem real, don’t they?

It’s not real. After all, parem has a way of messing with your mind. Many times during your captivity, you’ve thought you’d seen someone from home only to realize differently during the cloudiness of withdrawal. This is the same as that.

However, when the door to your cell clangs open, you feel the reverberations through your skin and bones, something that never happens when the Fjerdans come to get you. Your eyelids fly open and you scramble back against the wall, watching with terrified eyes as soldiers hurry to you. One’s in Ravkan fatigues, but the other is a Healer in a red kefta.

“You’re not real,” you grit out, teeth pressed together.

She shakes her head sympathetically. “I am, my friend. We’ve broken you out at last. Here, I have the cure.”

She holds out a syringe pre-loaded with some sort of substance. You snap back when you see it, too familiar with Fjerdan tricks of trying to inject you with different medicines. “Don’t you dare get that near me. I know what you do.”

The Healer jerks her chin towards you. “Hold her,” she says to the soldier.

You scream, a high, drawn-out sound, and do your best to fight, but your captivity has left you frail, and he’s able to subdue you after minor effort. The Healer pushes the needle into your veins, and you wait for something terrible to happen, another grievous experiment to begin in your body, but the strangest thing happens:  you feel better.

You stare up at the Healer. Your mind feels clearer than it has in days, and, impossibly, you can feel your strength returning. “What is that?”

“A cure to jurda parem,” the Healer tells you. “Sincerest apologies that it’s taken this long to get to you.”

You’re guided out into the corridor, where you join the former occupants of the surrounding cells. All of you regard your rescuers and each other with the same incredulity and faint excitement. Is this really it? Are you finally out?

The ride back to Ravka should be long, but it feels as if it’s over in the blink of an eye. Several times, the rescue party stops at safe houses along the way, giving all of you opportunities to wash up, get new, warm clothes, and eat and drink to fix the gnaw of hunger that clings to all of you. By the time the gates of Os Alta swing wide to admit you, you’re almost feeling normal again.

Almost.

The torment of your time in the Fjerdan cells will stick with you forever, and the awful memories of what it had been like to be under the influence of jurda parem. However, the Healer’s cure worked well. When you try to use your abilities, they work the same as they had before the awful drug was first administered to you. By all accounts, you’re back to normal, even if your mind doesn’t entirely feel that way.

The driver calls to your group that you’ll be arriving outside the Little Palace shortly. “King Nikolai will be there to greet you,” he announces over his shoulder.

Excited whispers surround this, and you can’t help but listen in intently. “Nikolai Lantsov will be there?” One girl giggles by your side.

Another smiles in encouragement. “They say he’s been observing each coach that brings back rescued Grisha from Fjerda. It’s like he’s looking for someone. Maybe an old friend?”

You feel your stomach chill, the warm delight of rescue starting to cool off again. You have no doubt that you’re the one Nikolai is looking for; he had told you many times that you were his favorite Grisha by far, even when he was briefly engaged to the Sun Summoner for purely political reasons, but you find yourself hoping he doesn’t find you when you get out of your coach.

It’s not that you don’t want to see him, you do– the idea of being with Nikolai again had sustained you through your time in the Fjerdan cells better even than food or drink, but the fact remains that you are no longer as you were in your memories. You are no longer someone that a king would care to see. More so than just your weakened frame, your disorganized mind– you were captured on a mission, and you succumbed to jurda parem. In the back of your mind, a cruel voice whispers, pathetic. Nikolai will be spending his time with the finest diplomats, the noblest princes and princesses. He will not want a Grisha who could not hold out against a drug.

You gather your borrowed cloak about you, pulling the hood down over your face. It’s a size or two too large for you, by virtue of it belonging to someone else, and right now you’re glad for the extra fabric to disguise you. Nikolai is looking for a ghost, and probably out of necessity. He’ll likely be relieved that he won’t have to handle you like a difficult situation.

The coach pulls to a stop. Many rescued Grisha are crammed inside, so you blend into the crowd as you all pour out. Other Grisha from the Fjerdan prison are there already. It’s easy to slip amongst their ranks, keeping your head down. Nikolai is there in front of you as promised. His head is tilted up slightly, his gaze sweeping row after row of visitors. Maybe he isn’t even looking for you at all.

Then, his eyes catch yours briefly. Immediately, you look away, and start backing through the crowds again, trying to lose his gaze. When you feel it’s safe to look again, you breathe out quiet relief when you notice that he’s still scanning the crowd where you had been. Lost him. It’s a victory, but it’s an awful pain nonetheless.

Once everyone has arrived, Nikolai says a few kind words about how he’s glad everyone has returned home and how apologetic he is about the time it took to get you all back. No one seems to hold it against him, though, and how could you? He rescued you in the end, and managed to get you the cure to jurda parem to boot. It’s a fine success if you’ve ever seen one.

Nikolai releases you to the Little Palace to rest. Grisha stream past Nikolai, but he doesn’t stop to talk to any of them, looking again for someone. For you, maybe. You pull the hood down low again. If you move quickly, maybe he’ll miss you. You give him a wide berth, keeping your eyes low. You’ve almost made it to the edge of the courtyard when you feel a hand rest on your arm, carefully pulling you to a stop.

You don’t look up, not at first. You don’t have to look to know who it is. You’ve known Nikolai for years. You would know how he walks, the precise pattern of his boots against the cobblestones. You would know how the breath hitches in his throat when you’re reunited after too long a separation. You would know how his hand feels on you. You’ve dreamed of it a thousand times, but this isn’t a dream anymore, this is real.

“Excuse me, moi tsar,” you whisper. Maybe he doesn’t know it’s you yet. Maybe you can still escape with your dignity intact.

Any hope you had of avoiding recognition vanishes in an instant when Nikolai murmurs, “Y/N,” in such a desperate voice that you feel you could hardly move if you tried.

You stand still. A strong wind could blow you over, maybe. You watch the ground as Nikolai’s boots cross the ground to stand in front of you. His other hand rises to brush your hood back from your face. A gasp is ripped from his lungs as he takes in the sight of you.

“I look that bad, then, do I?” You can’t help but laugh quietly. It’s a bitter sound. You used to sound happier when you laughed with him, you think. A lot has changed.

Nikolai’s hand leaves your hood, drifting to your face. He raises your chin with a soft finger until you’re looking him in the eyes again. “Not to me,” he says, voice hardly louder than a whisper. “I’ve always thought you were beautiful.”

A quiet scoff escapes you. “I have been a prisoner of Fjerda for months, moi tsar. I doubt that was conducive to beauty.”

“You’d be surprised,” he tells you. Then, a bit more insistent, “You don’t need to refer to me with a title, Y/N. You didn’t when we were little.”

“I didn’t know better,” you say. It’s not quite true, and he knows it.

“Don’t say that,” Nikolai pleads. “We were friends, excellent friends. Now we’re older and you’re avoiding me. Why?”

You look away again. “Don’t ask me that,” you say with a laugh. You meant it to be a joke, but it comes out as a plea.

“I will,” he insists. “I have always been stubborn, you know that about me. Stubborn enough to search every single Fjerdan prison my spies could find when you went missing. Stubborn enough to stand here and wait in the cold until I could find you. And certainly stubborn enough to wait here with you until you tell me why I’m no longer good enough for you.”

This, at last, is enough to make your eyes fly to him. “That’s not true,” you insist hotly. “Quite the opposite, in fact. You’re a king and I’m a Grisha. And a Grisha that couldn’t even withstand jurda parem, to be specific. Saints, you win wars and I lost the first one that ever came to me. If there is anyone that has ever been insufficient, it would be me.”

The hand on your arm slips down to your fingers, and Nikolai squeezes once, twice. A heartbeat. A prayer. “You have never been insufficient to me,” he tells you. You make some sound of disagreement and he repeats it, insistent as ever. “No, you listen. You aren’t. Jurda parem is notorious for the pain it causes. You think you lost the war? The fact that you’re still alive in front of me tells me that you won it. Every day since you went missing, I woke up and went to bed terrified that you were dead and I would never know. I need you, sweetheart, and I need you to stop punishing yourself for something that wasn’t your fault.”

You stay quiet for a while, letting the words turn over in your mind, then, impulsively, you ask, “Sweetheart?”

He grins, easy as always. “It fits you. Don’t argue with me, I’ve had plenty of arguments prepared to convince you otherwise.”

You laugh, and this time, it’s real. “I wouldn’t dare, then. I just would have thought that you’d have plenty of princesses who would have won that nickname for real by now.”

Unable to stop yourself, you cast a glance towards his left hand. No ring. When you look back up at Nikolai, he’s beaming. “No queen for me, I’m afraid. I was waiting for mine to return from captivity.”

You roll your eyes. “Still haven’t given up on that, have you? I seem to remember you trying and failing to convince me to marry you since we were six.”

Nikolai grins, slipping your arm inside his so he can guide you back to the Little Palace. “I will never give up. Not until you say yes.”

You laugh again, shaking your head in mock disbelief. It’s been a while since you saw him. It’s been a while since he asked. If he were to do it again, you think you might have a different answer than when you were both so small. 

Nikolai turns to look at you, his eyes shining. He’s always had a gift for knowing what’s on your mind, and judging by the light in his smile, you think he’s predicted your thoughts yet again. He’s got some time before he attempts another proposal. This time, though, he’ll have a better outcome than before.

grishaverse tag list: @rogueanschel, @deadreaderssociety, @cameronsails, @mxltifxnd0m, @story-scribbler, @retvenkos, @mayfieldss, @eclliipsed, @gods-fools-heroes, @bl606dy, @auggie2000, @baju69, @crazyhearttragedy, @aoi-targaryen, @budugu

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[moonlits-ocean]

Long Way Home [Part X]

[Azriel x Reader fanfic]

Synopsis: Y/n is the daughter of a healer in the city of Velaris. After a small incident, she moves to the House of the Wind to work for the High Lord, Rhysand. Everyone in the house seems to welcome her except Azriel, the second in command. Even though he is just blankly polite and does not acknowledge her much, she can't help but fall for him. Does Azriel return her feelings or remain unfeelingly aloof?

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Read Part 1 here. Read Part 7 here.

Read Part 2 here. Read Part 8 here.

Read Part 3 here. Read Part 9 here.

Read Part 4 here.

Read Part 5 here.

Read Part 6 here.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Part X

My father had taught me that most illnesses could be broadly classified into two: diseases that had a tendency to spread, and the diseases that did not. 

While treating a patient with a spreadable illness, there was a high risk of the caretaker getting ill. To combat this, we had made some discoveries like: covering the nose and mouth while in contact with the patient, washing hands with soap frequently and general personal hygiene. It didn't make the caretaker infallible, but it did lessen the risk of spreading. 

Azriel didn't have a cold or any other illness that spread, so I was pretty safe from that. He had an unusually high temperature paired with aches, dizziness, tiredness, and a minor stomach issue. 

Rhys and Cassian winnowed Azriel to my bedroom and I helped them get him under the covers. Father had fetched a couple of bags of his clothing and other supplies which I'd need. They promised to visit frequently and left. 

I sat beside him on the bed, tears threatening to spill over again as I took him in. His skin had lost its colour, his wings looked limp and he was murmuring deliriously as we settled him in. Now he looked like he was in some kind of fitful sleep, his arms and torso jerking now and then. I leaned over and kissed his forehead, sending waves of reassurance through the bond. His body instantly relaxed and the jerking stopped. 

I let him sleep until I finished making lunch, consisting of steaming vegetable broth which was both light on the stomach and masked the taste of the bitter medicine he had to take. I toasted some bread for myself and took a tray upstairs. 

When I gently woke him up to eat, he had trouble staying conscious at first, but when he figured out that it was me, he fought hard to stay awake. I cradled his head against my collarbone and fed him the broth from a small bowl. He hadn't eaten in days, and I didn't want him to throw up the food. I let him lie back down after wiping his mouth with the hem of the shirt I was wearing. Then, I placed a cold compress on his head to ease some of the temperature.

The medicine started working after a few hours. His body started sweating and the temperature reduced to a manageable level. It was just as Cassian had said: it was quickly healable illness, but it had come to this level because he refused any medicine. I gently wiped the sweat away with a damp cloth, then applied a soothing balm to help restore some moisture to his dried skin and lips. 

As the sun dipped in the west, the villa's magic lit the candles and sconces for light. Azriel's ever present shadows weren't there, and his beautiful wings looked brittle and fragile in the candlelight. 

His temperature rose a bit, though not to the previous unmanageable state. After I made him have another bowl of the medicine spiked broth, I stayed up all night trying to keep him cool with damp cloths and cold compresses. Throughout the night, there were a few times when he seemed to have awoken, but it was just his delirium talking. He was far more relaxed now, and I stayed beside him and held his hand as he mumbled my name. 

I was waiting for the fever to break, which might help him return to proper consciousness. I kept a careful watch to make sure it was reducing and there were no sudden spikes in his temperature. 

Somewhere in middle, he also had a nightmare, I think. I couldn't get him to wake up, so I held his hand physically and also reached out through the bond. 

Finally, the fever broke on the cusp of dawn, just as the morning birds were getting ready to herald a new day. His nightmare also seemed to have eased, and he was now calm. I had the sensation that he had reached out to me through our mating bond, as we were holding each both mentally and physically. 

After another round of wiping sweat, I laid down next to him for a quick nap before breakfast. I had to take care of myself too to take care of my sick mate properly. 

My body was tired from the all the work, and the nap turned into two hours of sleep. The morning sunlight was spilling through the open French windows when I opened my eyes. Cassian, Rhys, and my father were on the other side of the bed, and Azriel seemed to be awake. He was propped by pillows and talking to my father in low tones. 

They stopped talking and turned to me when I sat up and stretched. Azriel looked better now, not like a dead body as I had seen him yesterday. His eyes showed apprehension as he watched me. 

I merely stood up and walked to the door. There was a long conversation to be had, but first, Azriel had to get healthy. It could wait until that. 

"I'm making breakfast, hope you three will stay for that," I nodded at the others and made my way downstairs. 

I made some savoury vegetable oats, buttered toast and put the kettle to boil water for tea. Rhys, Cassian and father made their way down just as I was finishing up. They looked a bit suspicious to me, glancing at each other and then telling me that they'll serve themselves, and I should go just ahead and take a plate to Azriel. 

They wanted us to talk and clear it out. Sighing, I carried a tray upstairs. 

Azriel was lying back down when those three had left, but he raised his head at my entrance. When he noticed it was me, he started to push himself upright. I moved to help arrange the pillows behind his back so he was comfortable and sat down next to him. 

His body was still weak, and his hands trembled, so I fed him the food I had brought. 

"How are you feeling?" I asked after a couple of spoons. 

Instead of answering the question, he looked me directly in the eyes. "From the first time I saw you, I haven't had a proper night's sleep."

I exhaled audibly, returning the spoon to the bowl and waiting for him to go on. 

"You were alone and nervous during Rhys's treatment without your father present. But still, you never showed it on your face and saved him. And when you shifted to the House, you were a ray of sunshine that brought a smile to everyone's face."

I looked away from his intense gaze. "Never on your face, though."

"You've made me smile and laugh so many times that I've lost count."

I wasn't buying it, and raised an eyebrow at him. "Really? And somehow I happened to not see even one of those alleged smiles?"

He replied to this statement with a goddamn smile. 

I wasn't amused. I wanted to smash the bowl I was holding into his face.

I reined in my rising anger. Maybe I wasn't ready for this conversation yet. I needed more time to sort out my thoughts. 

I shoved another spoonful of oats into his mouth before he could say another word. Placing the bowl back on the tray, I pushed it onto his lap and stood up. He could eat on his own. 

"Finish eating and take rest," I started towards the door. 

"Y/n, please, wait. Listen to me—"

I whirled on him so fast that he instantly stopped. "Say another word and I'll poison your next meal and shove it down your throat. You can't just ignore me for months, giving uninterested replies to my attempts at conversation, then reject me when we found out that we were mates. As if that wasn't enough, you have the fucking audacity to FALL SICK AND HAVE ME TAKE CARE OF YOU! JUST FUCKING SHUT UP AND LET ME BE!"

I banged the door shut behind me and stomped down the stairs, breathing heavily from my outburst. 

Rhys, Cassian and my father were at the base of the stairs, trying to eavesdrop on our conversation, I guess. They scattered like mice when they saw my murderous expression. Rhys started wiping down the table, Cassian was furiously scrubbing at the dishes and father was straightening things up. 

I was amused at Rhys and Cassian. Never thought the High Lord and his commander would be doing a domestic chore in my house out of fear. 

Fetching a bowl from a cabinet, I scooped some food in it and sat down at the table after Rhys was done. I set the bowl down hard enough to make the table rattle. The anger was still present. They all started inching towards the front door. 

"You're welcome to my house anytime," I said in a low, controlled voice, making them stand still. "But the next time you even attempt to patch things up between me and Azriel, I'll poison your food and turn your dead bodies into compost for my fruit orchard. And that includes you, father."

They all nodded wordlessly and tripped over each other trying to hurry outside. 

Well. 

Good thing to know that my anger rattled even the best of the High Lords in Prythian.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Tags:

@kalulakunundrum @thelov3lybookworm @hnyclover @impossibelle @sourapplex @brujitafantomatico @venuseuripedis @darling006 @fightmedraco @lees-chaotic-brain @thesunloveschips

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Read Part 11 here.

This fanfic can also be found in Wattpad, along with other exclusive parts like playlists and pictures. Here's the link: https://www.wattpad.com/story/358573037-long-way-home

Happy reading! <3

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

[Thank you for your patience as I know I was late in uploading these parts. I love you all very much <3]

[neverchecking]

hi i just discovered your blog and your writing is amazing 😳 could i request wild x reader, breeding kink? can be yandere or not, up to you!

This deleted twice- if it does it again I'm going to cry-

You ABSOLUTELY can. You can, you can you can-

I have a bit of a favorite. sue me.

If your looking for some noice breeding stuff with wild, @fanfic-fairy-fountain has some mouth watering, thigh clenching, till it remembers every vein DILF! Wild content that made me bark man.

Anyway, Smut so MDNI! 18+

Smut CW: AFAB reader, Breeding Kink. Wild being his namesake, mans has baby fever badly.

He couldn't explain it.

After coming out of the shrine of Resurrection, he had felt...lost. Like a shattered vase with too many pieces missing to have any hope of being put back together. He was no longer the knight that Zelda boasted around- that Link died in the shrine over a century ago- even if it didn't stop her from parading him around like a show pony. He wasn't a champion of old, Revali was right about one thing. He was just...Link. Link of Hateno, who lived on the outskirts of the small village. Who came into town every once in while for supplies. Who otherwise kept to himself, but remained friendly, as long as his companion was happy.

The village couldn't quite place what you meant to him, but that was fine. He knew what you meant to him. You were his Goddess. His reason for living. You kept him sane. You saw his shatter pieces and decided they were worth it. You saw his jagged edges and razor sharp features and soothed them all with a gentle hand and graceful words. You placed yourself firmly in his life without any intentions of leaving. He wouldn't let you leave anymore anyway.

Not when you had made such an impact in his life. Not when you put value in something he saw as worthless. Not when you put your entire trust into believing he could be someone worthy of your love. How could he let something like you, such a blessing, go? He couldn't.

And what better way to keep him tied to you by doing everything you asked of him? Want him to slay an entire monster camp? Elementary. Want him to go, venture out into the wilderness just to hunt this incredibly rare animal? Done. Want to sit on his face and choke him with your thighs? You better be ready to suffocate him because he's not coming out until your coming undone over top of him. Wanna ride his thighs? He's sitting prim and proper for you. Want to tie him up in satin ribbons to use for your own desires?

Just tell him when.

Anything to keep you happy. So when you came up to him, asking him so nicely to breed you, to fill you up, who was he to say no?

So he didn't.

Honestly, what better way to tell everyone you were his, and his alone than to fatten you up with his child? To make you round and plump with his seed. To tie you to him for the rest of your lives.

There was no better way he realized.

Sure he could paint your neck and back and chest and thighs in bitemarks and bruises in his own signature color, singing his name on you in his own unique way. Sure he could put the fattest, prettiest rock he could mine on your finger, watching as you wore it with pride. Sure he could that all.

But none of it quite painted you as his as a child did. An absolute precious little being a perfect mix of the two of you. He could see it now. And absolute angel with your hair and nose, maybe his eyes and ears. Filled with his trademark sense of curiosity, only to be paired with a healthy sense of caution you would instill in them.

Would you want an entire Litter of children to trample along your feet? Or maybe just two or three to focus your attention to carry your legacy? Or perhaps just one perfect mix of you two to shape into the best person this world had to offer.

Didn't matter. He would give you anything and everything you wanted.

Right now? You wanted to be filled.

And he would comply, tearing your tunic and bottoms from your body and pinning you to the dining room table. One hand kept your chest to the table, pushing between your shoulder blades as he freed himself with a single hand. Your whines and please, all but begging for him to breed you, fill you, start your family right then and there ignited a fiery inferno underneath of him, just aching to make your dreams come true.

Anything to keep you tied to him.

His grip was practically bruising as he pulled your hips to meet his with every thrust, ensuring the head of his cock kissed your cervix with every plunge. It had you crying out for him over and over again, tears pearling in your eyes. He cooed at your trembling form, leaning over you without loosing tempo to thumb away your tears. He kissed your cheeks, temples, anywhere he could reach really, letting the one hand left holding your hips drift to fiddle with your clit. He circled it in steady circles, making the tears come back as you jutted against him, thighs twitching wildly.

"Shh, that's it wildflower, just let me take care of you. Leave everything to me. I'll fill you up so nicely, you'll have no choice but to carry our child. In no time at all, you'll be all round and gorgeous, telling everyone you're mine. All mine."

You came with with a hard cry, milking him for what you desperately craved. And if you wanted it, he'd give it to you. The one hand that was gently brushing your tears away snaked between your body and the table, gently cupping your throat so he could pull you against his chest while the other one returned to your hips. He pulled you flush against him, biting into your neck with a muted growl as he emptied into your womb.

But that wouldn't be enough. No. he wouldn't be satisfied until you were nothing but a brainless little thing, trusting him to breed you, and even then, one more wouldn't hurt, would it?

You'd get the child you wanted. He'd make sure of it.

[catcas22]

SOTE spoilers:

with all the new lore about Marika and her people, Maliketh becomes even more of kicked puppy.

Sure, he can probably go berserk at any moment if the Fingers want him too, but he is also the only thing in all existence that loves Marika unconditionally. Enough to be entrusted with the Rune of Death and bear eons of mindbreaking hunger and fight to the last for her Order.

I wonder how she felt about her half-brother, and when exactly he came into the picture. If we assume you're born an Empyrean, he might very well be the only survivor of the village besides Marika/Radagon. Maliketh was a shadowbound beast given to his Empyrean. Marika's sole need of her shadow was a vessel to lock away Destined Death. Even then, she betrayed him. -Remembrance of the Black Blade

BRO

No matter what potential backstory I come up with for Maliketh, it just makes the whole thing even more sad. It's entirely possible that he grew up with Marika in the same way that Blaidd did with Ranni.

On the other hand, there's a theory I heard awhile ago (I think it was from smoughtown on youtube) speculating that Maliketh was his own person before he was "tailored" to fit the designs of the fingers. Specifically, he was a beastman priest named Gurranq. According to this theory, Gurranq isn't an alias that Maliketh is using -- instead, Maliketh's memory is deteriorating and he's reverting to his old identity. When he loses control and attacks the tarnished, he's reverting even further to the bestial state he inhabited before the dragons uplifted his race. When he says "I will not forget again," he means that literally.

There's a lot of fanfic potential in exploring how Gurranq could have met Marika, how much of their bond was due to the fingers' compulsion and how much was of their own free will, exactly how much of his old life Maliketh remembers, etc. Is he the reason she, out of all her people, was the sole survivor? Barring direct divine intervention by the Greater Will, I'd say if it wasn't the Mimic Veil that saved her it had to be Gurranq/Maliketh. For how long was he her only friend, or the closest thing she had to one? When did she stop seeing him as a brother, a friend, or a protector and start seeing him as a tool?

I'm tempted to add a second chapter to A Powerless Upstart, a Gnawing Curse where perfectly normal beast-clergyman Gurranq is out doing traveling friar things when he feels an inexplicable urge to take a detour down a particular stretch of backroad. Imagine him finding a kid curled up and bleeding in a ditch with more wounds than skin. Imagine him trying to carry her out for a proper burial and realizing she's still breathing. Imagine him sitting with her and doing what little he can to help, despite the fact that she surely won't last more than a few days. Imagine her clinging on to life with supernatural vitality, refusing to die until at last she regains consciousness. Imagine Gurranq seeing her eyes go dull when he offers to take her back to her family. Imagine him realizing, "Oh, this is my kid now," without ever knowing if the choice was really his.

[greenerteacups]

Your last chapter was delightful! Thank you so much!

You’ve mentioned All the Young Dudes in one of your posts and it has been a revelation. Do you have all time favorite hp fics and would care to share your recommendations please?

Oh, man, how could I ever choose? Manacled and DMATMOOBIL are obviously all-timers, but they don't need me to recommend them. Wait and Hope, similarly, is in no need of exhortation by me, but I'll do it anyway, I ate that shit up. Anything by @PacificRimbaud. Especially anything with Pansy in it. Especially Les Pèlerins. Anything by provocative_envy. Especially the college/internship AUs. You don't think an American AU for Harry Potter is going to work, until you're reading it, and wow, does it ever. Bending Light by scullymurphy. Talk about fucking atmosphere, my God. (I haven't read Falling Dark yet, I've been meaning to get around to it.) I've also been meaning to read the Gravitation series, I read the first chapter forever ago and it was one helluva opening. See, now I'm just talking about fics I haven't read and want to. Okay.

All the Young Dudes was formative because it was the first time I realized the scope of what fanfiction could do. Until then, I had a very narrow, constrained version of the kinds of stories fanfic was meant to tell (and what fanfic audiences were looking for). ATYD blew the ceiling off that by telling a story that was non-traditional, slow-paced, and completely non-focused on romance for at least half of it, and people adored it anyway. It taught me to be bolder and more creative with my choices. It made me think "well, Gryffindor Draco may not be the most popular trope in the bucket, but maybe some people will like it!" And it turned out some people did!

The Disappearances of Draco Malfoy. This was for a long time my favorite Draco redemption arc, and it remains the first fic I recommend to anyone looking to get into Dramione, because it's the perfect branching-off point for someone who loves the books. Stylistically honest and feels like Book 7, only better. Draco is not let off the hook for fuck, as is right and proper. (I'm a sucker for Book 7 rewrites, for obvious reasons.)

Boy with a Scar. All of it. Made me tear up like four times. This person understands things about Harry Potter that Rowling doesn't and perhaps never could.

Birds of a Feather is a great Tomione Hogwarts fic, and of any fic I've read, it's most interested in the practical day-to-day of life at Hogwarts, which was one of my favorite parts of the books. It's really a book about how someone like Tom, or Hermione for that matter, would experience Hogwarts if there weren't any diabolical plots happening around them: that is, as a very cool, very beautiful, but ultimately sort of mundane boarding school. It makes the place feel lived-in and real in a way that makes it a joy to come back to. And it has the most realistic depiction of child!Tom that I've ever read.

And I'm finding new ones all the time.

[yuyu1024]

Two friends with Benefit

Pairings: Yunho × y/n x Mingi

Genre/tags: arranged marriage, cheating

Warning: 🔞🔞🔞 poly, smut, cursing, pet names, jealousy, smut/angst, kink/fetish, fingering, unprotected sex [lmk if i miss anything]

Words: 1.3k

Disclaimer:

- this story is just made up

- english is not my first language, please be nice 😊

Note: reposting all my stories one by one again as I deleted my acct by mistake. All of the stories I will be posting is all mine. (All of my fanfics/oneshots are also available wattpad @/shinestar1024)

It has been more than a year since you moved in to your new apartment. Work has been so hectic for you that going back from work and your house, with your parents, every damn day is too much to handle. Sleep is very important for you. If you can't sleep, you can't focus on work. And if you can focus o work, your boss will probably yell at you and shame you in front of everybody. Nobody wants that. You need this job. You need the paycheck and that money can't give you the space you need. Everything is so damn expensive these days.

And that's why, you are incredibly lucky that your two best friends from college offered their extra room for you.

Yunho and Mingi are both working at the same tech company that is in the area. Their work pays well thats why they can afford the nice and spacious apartment they have now.

The room they gave you was their gaming room. Its spacious enough for you and your needs so you can't complain about it. It's free! Actually everything is sort of free to you. They didn't asked you to pay or share besides your part of the rental. Which makes you question how much they earn by typing things in their computers.

But besides that, the two towers are not just your roommates. Besides being your bestfriends, these two have been your fuck bodies for awhile now. It started from a small bet while all three of you are tipsy and now it flourished to this amazing trio that you thought will never work but It did... and its still going.

"Babe!" Mingi is across the street from where you at, waving. He's smiling and jumping. He can't wait to cross the street. Yunho is standing beside him, laughing at him.

When the signal says Okay to cross, Mingi runs and immidiately hugs you. "Y/n, you're back!"

You've been away for a week because of a work thing and this has been the longest you three have been separated.

"Yeaaah, glad to be back. I miss my bed..." You pout

"Just the bed?" Yunho tugs the strand of hair that's been bothering you.

"Of course I missed you two! My roommate for the trip is a handful... she's so talkative and does not respect my personal space. I CAN'T!" you say, rolling your eyes.

"Guess you prefer us being noisy than her..." Mingi says

"Of course..." You wrap your hands around his arm and lean your head.

"You look tired... so let's get home and eat something good to make you feel better." Yunho takes your luggage and carries it for you.

"Thank, Yunho."

When you guys arrive at the apartment, the first thing you did is lay down on the huge as sofa that you call your second bed. This is is where you usually fall asleep after a night out or an extreme overtime at work.

"I miss this!" You hug the pillows like you've been gone for a year.

"Yah!" Yunho comes over and playfully pulls your leg so you get closer to him and slaps your butt "Don't be such a tease this... we should eat first... like proper food before we can play."

You giggle as you see how Yunho's eyes are gazing on you. "Did you missed me that much?"

"you have no idea." he crawls over you until he reaches you, close enough that both of you lips almost touchs.

You bit your lip gently, teasing him even more. "You can show me later..." you whisper

"Oh, you bet I will." Yunho leans more and finally kisses you. The kiss is soft and yet tender that it pulls you in wanting more.

"Seriously? No one is going to help me prepare dinner?" Mingi calls you guys out

Laughing, "Okay, okay! I will get up and help you!" Yunho plants a small kiss on your cheek before letting you go.

"You! Yunho! You're taking advantage of me being busy here in the kitchen...why did you start making out with y/n?"

"I'm sorry! I can't help it. I missed her." Yunho takes an apron and puts it in.

"I too, missed her. I've been dreaming about having sex with her for days now... but we need to cook first!" Mingi pouts

"Aww! Mingi!" You get up and walk towards the kitchen to hug your baby giant. "Don't pout... I am back... we can make your dreams come true."

Hearing that made Mingi happy. He can't hide the smile on his face. "I promise to make you feel good. To fill you up." He leans down to kiss you, placing his hand behind your neck.

You start to moan as he continues to kiss you, then suddenly you felt hands moving from behind you. "Maybe... we should just skip dinner or order in for later?" Yunho breathes as his hands skims over your breast.

"Ah! Yunho!" You cry, leaning your head back to his chest. He's fingers circling over your hard tips. "S-shit! That's so good!"

"Baby, you sound so heavenly." Mingi goes down on his knees, kissing your exposed stomach as she starts to unbutton your jeans.

"Your breast is so plump." Yunho kisses you hard as he massages your boobs. "It's perfect... that... it fits our hands..." he says in between kisses.

"Ahh!" You raise your hand to grab onto Yunho as you feel the cooling sensation down there. Mingi removed your pants so easily.

"I've been craving this for a week now." Mingi snarls as he puts his face between your legs. "I want to eat now... can I go ahead?" He asks Yunho

"Go ahead... I'll make her busy up here..." Yunho changes his position have more access to yout breast. "Tell us to stop okay? If it's too much..."

"I... will..uhhh..." you try to answer but your knees weakens as you felt Mingi's tongue lick you up. "G-God!"

Smirking, Yunho unclasps your bra, freeing your plumps breast. He grabs one to massage while the other one he starts to lick using his tongue.

"Fuck!" You grab onto the counter for support. These guys are really making up for the whole damn week you've been gone. They are sucking the life out of you.

"W-wait..." you tap both of them. They stop and looks at you. "Let me... breathe..."

"Are we being too much?" Yunho kisses the back of your hand. "Do you want us to continue this on bed?"

"I can't wait to go to bed. Just fuck me on the sofa." You pull both of them with you. "Sit."

The two of them follows. They both stare at you, as you strip the rest of your clothes in front of them.

"Damn." Mingi bites his lips as he watches you. "You're so sexy!"

"Am I?" After throwing away the last clothing, you get closer to Mingi, spread your legs and sat on his lap. "Since, you are the first one to talk... you can fuck me first."

"Yes!" Mingi lowers down his jogger bands along with his boxers. The tip of his cock shows and the sight already makes you wet. "Come to Daddy little kitten!"

He gently puts himself in your core. He's to long and thick that you can already feel the thightness.

"Baby," you cry as you look at Yunho, sitting beside you two, watching. "Fuck!" You gasp as Mingi begins thrusting. "Kiss me..." You ask Yunho

He takes his top off, lowers his pants and moves closer to kiss you as he strokes himself.

"Y/n!" Mingi cries as you start to move your hips together with him in rythm. "You're so... tight!" He growls. "S-so good!"

Yunho backs away from kissing you and then moves to the next person. "You're so noisy. Making me jealous that you're fucking her first." Yunho goes in and kisses Mingi.

The other boy is so naughty, that he bit Yunho's lip lightly. "Don't worry. I'll make it quick so you can fuck her next while I fuck you behind."

[coltermorning]

Of Love and Loss Ch. 13 (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: You and Arthur get to know the town better, getting to know each other better in the process.

Author’s Notes: This chapter needed some major reconstruction, so I apologize for the wait on it! I split it in half and completely changed the ending, but I’m so glad I did because it’s one of my favorite chapters now. Enjoy all the fluff and these two getting drunk together for the second time :) Chapter thirteen of this one.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, minor character death, loss of parents, blood and injury, grief/mourning, survivor guilt, strangers to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, graphic depictions of violence

AO3 Link

~

Of Love and Loss

Thirteen: Townsfolk

Word count: 5416

You startled awake at some point in the night, darkness pushing in through the lone window. Once you had your bearings, a sudden panic overtook when you realized Arthur wasn’t there until you saw him lying on the floor beside you. You’d slept through his return. And the fool had refused to wake you, had let you have the bed. This was no better than lying under canvas for him. You told yourself you would berate him for it once he woke, but the thought soon eddied away when your tiredness overtook you once more, your panic easing away now that you knew he was there beside you, that you didn’t have to face the bedroom alone. You fell back into dreams of your family, of a past life, of a time when you were never alone.

~

You must have truly needed rest, as you awoke a second time to Arthur reentering the room, having slept through him ever leaving it. You were normally a lighter sleeper.

“Just stabled Harriet and Bo,” he said. “Figured they could use a good rest and plenty of hay.”

“Does this mean we’re staying?” You couldn’t help the hope that lined those words.

Arthur caught it and smirked. “What, my company that miserable?”

Truth be told it was…quite the opposite. But before you could blush over the thought of that kiss, you pushed on. “You don’t see me running for the hills. Yet.”

“Yet,” he replied with a low laugh. He turned to the small mirror and basin the room had to offer, running his hand over his beard. It had grown long in the time you’d been traveling with him. His hair had too, starting to hang down past his eyes when his hat wasn’t pinning it back.

“You’re starting to look like a Montanan,” you told him. Starting to, because most men’s beards were twice the length of his in those snowy mountains.

“I usually keep it short,” he said, still looking at his reflection. “But it’s sure as shit been cold enough not to.”

You shrugged. “You get used to it.”

“The cold or the beard?” he asked, his hand falling as he turned to you. And when his eyes landed on you, the room suddenly felt a little smaller.

“The cold. Afraid I’ve no experience on the latter.”

He smirked, and you hated how much that look burned you up inside. You turned away.

“Well,” he said. “I’m starving. Want to go eat a proper meal? See a little of this country for yourself?”

Your heart gave a nervous kick at the very idea.

“It’s either that, or you’re staying here,” he added, and you knew without having to look at him he was just trying to rile you. Of course you would come with him, no matter how begrudgingly you did.

“Forgive me for not liking either of those options.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, and I can think of worse ones. Especially having to deal with me when I haven’t eaten, so come on.”

You rolled your eyes and wondered when the day would come that he would stop using his humor to get you to agree to things. Or maybe when you would finally find the will not to listen.

You threw your legs over the bedside and stood, realizing you were still wearing his clothes. “It won’t be…odd for me to walk around looking like this?”

“Like that? Sure,” he said with a laugh.

You glared at him. His amusement wasn’t helping.

“Here,” he said, crossing the room. And you let him invade your space without pause as he turned up your coat collar, sticking your hat low on your head to hide your hair. No matter that your heart was racing. That you felt disappointment take hold when he stepped away.

“Could pass for a man now. Ain’t no one looking a man’s way, ill-fitting clothes or no.”

“Great,” you said flatly. But Arthur just gestured to the door, and you scowled and did as he said, making for it.

After eating one very well-deserved meal of oatmeal piled with sugar, you and Arthur explored the town. It was interesting to see how mankind lived all intertwined like this. And sure enough, you got to look around relatively unnoticed. After a stop at the launder for your and Arthur’s clothes in which you weren’t even glanced at, you came out with a newfound confidence. It was nice being looked over, being an afterthought. All you had ever known of other people was unwanted attention, and now you felt freer than you ever had around so many eyes. It made for an enjoyable morning.

Arthur found a barber and stopped in, annoyed with all that hair after all. You sat outside in the sunshine and watched the people mill about. If where you were headed was anything like this for you, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

You were basking in the rare heat when you heard spurs clicking in your direction.

“Ready to go back?” Arthur asked.

You turned to answer, but when your gaze landed on him, words escaped you. His beard was now nothing more than stubble, his hair shorter but still framing his face, his hat in his hands instead of on his head for once. He was…distractingly handsome.

Apparently thinking you had fallen into another one of your spells of not speaking, Arthur put his hat back on his head. “I posed that like a question, but let me rephrase. You’re coming with me.”

The way he cleaned up so well plus him demanding that of you…it had you blurting out words to shake your sudden stupor.

“Why not stay? Get to know the town a little better, I mean.”

He smirked at you. You couldn’t figure why, your nerves at looking at him making it hard to do so.

“Do my eyes deceive me?” he jeered.

“What?”

“You, sitting around enjoying the place.”

“I just- I’ve never-”

“Save it,” he said, holding up a hand. “You don’t have to explain it to me. But tell you what, let’s go back, let it get dark, then I’ll show you around. Town’s always best at night anyhow.”

You could feel the nerves veritably rushing through you at the prospect of that, at all these people, at him. But you just nodded and stood. “Lead the way then.”

You were pondering what it would be like to finally get to experience this kind of life when you looked up and were faced with Arthur’s broad back, his mere presence carving a path through the people walking about. Had it always been that broad? And had he always looked that good in that big coat?

You shook your head to get that particular madness out of it and went back to watching the townsfolk. Anything to distract you from the one thing you wouldn’t allow yourself to think of for the remainder of this trip.

Nearing the hotel, you still felt those cursed nerves, but you had fully convinced yourself they were nothing more than timidness over the town. Certainly not a lone room and a bed and an outlaw to keep you company.

~

Arthur sat in the chair in the corner of the room and drew in his journal. He had stripped his coat, the heat of the day making it sweltering inside the hotel. He was just glad it wasn’t snowing. He’d had enough of that to last him the year. So he took up his time drawing the town you found yourselves in, debating what trouble to get you into tonight. He’d told himself miles back he’d show you how to cut loose for once, only now it seemed not the brightest idea he’d had. Now all he could think of was those men’s eyes on you at that shit hole of a trading post. But he’d given you his word, and he wouldn’t go back on it. Not when you had shown genuine excitement for once, all over seeing the glamor of city living. Well, glamor was a stretch, but it was something to you at least. More than could be said for Montana. So he sketched down a few bricks on a building side, debating all the while some type of harmless fun. Harmless, because his type of fun usually ended up being anything but. He wouldn’t show that particular genius to you lest you both end up in a jail cell. He grinned at the very thought.

The sound of the creaking bed reached Arthur’s ears, and he snuck a glance at you, seeing you sprawled out on your back, lazily reading the ledger you held above you. You were calmer here. He could tell you felt safe when you had been fine staying outside while he visited the barber earlier. And especially when you’d wanted to stay. Considering what happened in the last settlement, he was surprised you even wanted to do that much. But this trip would be coming to an end in a few short weeks, and maybe you, like he, knew it was time you got used to being on your own. Or without him, more like. Though he did feel a certain pride that you felt so safe around him, the same pride that still plagued him while he sat there admiring his shirt on you. It made him want to…well. Best not to think on that.

“Think I could make it as a trader in Nebraska?” Your eyes remained on the ledger despite the question.

“I know you could,” Arthur said, going back to drawing. “Better question is, would you want to?”

You sat up then, sitting cross-legged on the bed in a way that drew his eye.

“It’s what I’m good at.”

“You’re good at hunting,” Arthur said. “Those are two different things. You want to be a traveling salesman on top of that?”

“Maybe. Probably not.” You looked down at the ledger, your lower lip catching between your teeth. It took everything in Arthur not to stare at your mouth. “I don’t know,” you went on. “Maybe I could have a stall in town. I’m sure I could sell something if it was as valuable as what Pa used to sell.”

“Sure,” Arthur said, surprised at your ambition. How far you had come, willing to consider opening your own stall in a town you used to think you would never make it to. Planning a future for yourself. He was proud of you for it.

“Anyway,” you said, shutting the ledger and setting it aside. “You got any thread? Sewing needle?”

He let his amusement show. “No.”

You scoffed. “Of course you don’t. I was going to offer to sew up your coat.” You pointed at it where it lie on a trunk under the window, the afternoon sun shining down on it.

“Well, I ain’t got any.”

“Sure.” Then you stood and crossed the room, headed right for the door.

“Where you think you’re going?”

“To find some. Most women have a needle and thread on them. At least, the ones working here probably do. I’ll go ask.”

“Hang on. I didn’t keep you cooped up in here all day just to get snatched now,” Arthur said.

“I won’t get snatched,” you said, already opening the door and shooting him a glare all at once. Like an entirely different person from the one who had followed his every step just yesterday. For some reason, this sudden confidence shut Arthur up, and he let you be. The door closed behind you with force, leaving him shaking his head and going back to his journal.

The minutes ticked by, and Arthur got to a stopping point with his drawing and stood, moving to the window to have something to do with his restlessness. Looking out over the back street, he spied a small, dingy-looking saloon that didn’t even have a name, just ‘saloon’ written in big block letters. It would normally be a place he would be drawn straight to if it weren’t for the fact that he couldn’t take you there. Certainly not with the kind of population that frequented those places. His population, he thought with a chuckle. You were damn lucky Dutch and Hosea had drilled some manners into him, what few they could. But the place did give him an idea for the night’s festivities.

The door creaked open behind him, and Arthur turned to find you with thread in hand, showing it off in triumph.

“Told you. She even had blue.”

“How ‘bout that?” he teased, though he was secretly grateful you had gone so far as to get the proper color thread. No one else would have bothered with something like that.

You motioned to his coat, and he picked it up and threw it to you. You took his spot in the lone chair and set to work, Arthur trying not to watch too closely. He instead went to looking back out the window, thinking of what the pair of you could get up to.

“This is a pretty wide gash. You sure you didn’t get scratched too bad?”

Arthur hadn’t given a moment’s thought to the scratch the wolf had left behind on his arm. He had enough scars to forget to worry about the smaller ones.

“Nah, it ain’t bad. Don’t need any stitches at least.”

You were quiet for a moment, likely thinking of your own nasty scar. Then, “Your shirt needs mending too. I’ll work on it once we get it back from the launder.”

Arthur looked at you then. You were never so nice to him this…willingly. It reminded him of when you’d cleaned the blood off his face, and the thought made something finally click in his brain.

“You do this kind of thing for your parents?”

He knew he’d gotten it right when you didn’t immediately respond. Then, in a small voice, “Momma taught me.”

You didn’t talk about her much. Usually only your father and all he had taught you. But Arthur was willing to bet that defiance in you didn’t come from him. It was a trait best suited to daughters who had learned how to fight through testing their mothers.

“Well, I’m glad she did. I’m dogshit at sewing.”

You snorted a laugh. “I’m not surprised.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You may be pretty at shooting a gun, but sewing’s a far cry with those big hands.”

Arthur felt his face heat at the word pretty but barreled through the feeling it brought him. “I sewed you up just fine.”

Now it was your turn to be embarrassed. You went red. “And you’re not going to let me forget it, are you?”

He felt his smile widen of its own volition. “Never.”

You didn’t respond, only smiled down at your sewing. Then you were bringing the needle away, gathering up the thread. “Done.” You handed the coat back to him. He took it and examined the new patch, a small line of darker blue now marring his right coat sleeve. It was a token of sorts—something to forever remind him of this trip.

“Thanks.” He meant it. You just waved him off.

Instead of putting the coat down, he put it on, not buttoning it up to keep the heat at bay. “Well, we may as well get going before the shops close. I have one more errand to run.”

You didn’t hesitate to stand, your eagerness returning. “What errand?”

He grinned. “You’ll see, nameless.”

He hadn’t called you that in a while, and it had you swatting at him as you passed, heading for the door. He opened it before you could, holding it ajar for you with hand outstretched. It made you even madder, and all he could do was laugh as he shut and locked the door behind you both.

The town was livelier at this hour, just as Arthur suspected it would be. Most folks were off work, in town to blow off steam after a long day. The heat had tapered off with the setting sun, turning it into the perfect golden evening. It was as good an introduction to regular life as you would ever get.

“You plan on telling me where we’re going?”

Arthur glanced at you, at your funny-looking clothes. “We could always stop at the launder, get you your clothes back.”

You caught the amusement on his face and frowned. “I don’t want them back yet. I was enjoying blending in just fine earlier.”

He figured. Looking ahead, Arthur found the shop he needed just down the main road. “Going to the gunsmith. I need more revolver cartridges since you shot all mine at nothing.”

“And you wonder why I’m mad at you all the time,” you muttered under your breath. He grinned.

The gunsmith had a fairly bare-bones shop, but it had what Arthur was looking for. He coughed up the money and was soon putting the cartridge boxes in his satchel, getting a few out to stick them in his gun belt.

“As riveting as this is,” you said, watching him do it, “I had hoped for a more…memorable evening. To be one of the townsfolk, if you will.”

Arthur finished and waved at the gunsmith, opening the door for you. “You always gotta be on a man’s case so bad?”

“It’s the duty of every woman.”

Arthur barked a laugh and pointed at the saloon he had already scoped out—the Red Horse. It was the biggest of the three saloons he had seen in town. Biggest usually meant easiest to blend into. “That’s where we’re headed. You up for it, miss townsfolk, or is that not memorable enough for you?”

He could see your eyes catch on it, see the way you clammed up with nerves before you calmed yourself back down. “No, memorable is a good word, I think.”

“Good. Come on then.” You both made to cross the street, but a horse and rider came barreling through so fast from around the corner you didn’t see it in time. Arthur grabbed your hand and yanked you back. He expected you to be cross about his saving your hide, as you tended to be, but instead you looked down at your hand. He was still holding it. He dropped it and cleared his throat. “You’re welcome.”

You wouldn’t meet his eye then, turning to attempt the street again. Or maybe to get ahead of him so he couldn’t see that blush on your face, but it was too late for that. He had seen it, and it was making him stare after you like an idiot.

Arthur remembered himself and rushed after you, putting all meaning of that blush behind him lest he let some pitiful semblance of hope get to him.

The saloon was lively and growing fuller by the minute, the bar full and nearly all of the tables the same.

“Beer or whiskey?” he asked you, having to talk loud over the man at the nearby piano as he pushed you into the room.

“Beer,” you responded, busy taking in the scene before you. Life at its very simplest. Gambling, alcohol, and a good time. Women, too. There were women hanging off of men’s arms everywhere, and Arthur hoped the sight would settle you some, as it seemed to settle you having women around in that hotel.

“Over here.” Arthur steered you toward the bar and let you stand behind him as he got the barman’s attention. He placed his order and handed more money over, thinking he needed to count through all he had left before the trip was over. He didn’t want to find himself without the means to get back to his gang. The bartender handed him two beers, and all thought of that washed away as Arthur pushed back through the growing crowd with you and made for a less populated wall to stand against.

Enjoying the first taste of his beer with more satisfaction than he could name, Arthur sat back and watched you. He had to keep from laughing at the way your head kept turning in all directions to take everything in. This would be a regular night for him, given that the gang had made it into town, but for you it was likely a whole new world.

“Careful not to hurt your neck there,” he said, smiling over his beer.

You shot him a dirty glance but saw him drinking and seemed to remember the beer in your own hand. You brought it to your mouth to take a sip, and Arthur couldn’t resist watching the way your lips touched the bottle. Something shot through him at the sight that he let be for once.

“God, that’s terrible,” you said, cringing. “Is there any alcohol that doesn’t taste like shit?”

He chuckled. “Probably not. But that’s not why you drink it.” He thought of how much gin he had downed with you that had led to a kiss and knew that to be true.

The pair of you took to arguing over how well you could handle yourself in a town like this before a game of poker across the way got so rowdy it couldn’t be ignored any longer.

“Ever played cards?” he asked.

You shook your head. “Don’t know how.”

“Come watch me then. I’ll show you.” And, at your sudden reluctance, “Relax, I won’t make you play.”

You eyed him and took another swig of beer before cringing just as noticeably, motioning at him to lead the way.

There were only two players left sitting at the poker table, but both had such high stacks of chips that Arthur knew better than to get in on the game until after one busted. Those high stakes were also why a crowd had gathered and was cheering so loudly for one man or the other. The pair of you watched alongside them, most rooting for the yellow-haired working stiff nearest you. The other man, a well-dressed but worse for wear man with a hatted, dark-haired head had men cheering for him that all looked just like him—well-dressed but sloppy.

“Stick it to him, boy!” someone shouted at the working man. His cards were visible to those standing behind him, showing a strong hand—two high-value diamonds to the flop’s two of the same suit.

Arthur knew as the turn revealed the third diamond—giving the man a flush—that he had his opponent beat. And sure enough, he went all in. Either bluffing or drunk, the other man followed suit and swiftly lost all his winnings.

“Now, now hold on,” he slurred, standing. “I saw him stick that diamond up his sleeve an hour ago!”

“Awe, save it, Lawrence!” someone in the crowd shouted back.

Arthur was too amused to notice you leave until he turned to find you gone entirely. Panic overtook him before he spotted you against the nearest wall, watching from a distance. He stormed over.

“What are you doing running off like that?”

“I didn’t want to be in the middle of…whatever that is.” You pointed to the poker table, and Arthur watched as the interaction between the two players started to get heated, the slimy-looking one not wanting to pay up.

He turned back to you. “Fair enough. But warn me next time.”

You eyed him.

“What?”

“Nothing.” You turned your attention back to the others, taking another sip of beer. And Arthur was mad at you for it, for distracting him like that when he should have been giving you a piece of his mind. But instead he watched your mouth again, watched as your lips pursed against the glass and thought of how they had felt against his own. He turned away and took a sizable drink himself.

To take his mind off of things, Arthur started explaining poker to you, namely the game that had just been played. You asked a few of the usual questions—what call and check meant and why the seedy man’s high card didn’t win him the game. Arthur finally seemed to explain things well enough that you said, “I get it. Go play then. I’ll watch.”

“I ain’t leaving you over here.”

“I know you want to play, Arthur. Go. I’ll stand closer if it makes you feel better.”

The sarcasm lining your words had him ready to argue.

“Just go,” you said with a small smile, pushing against his chest. Your hands on him made him comply. Made him melt into compliance, more like.

“I’m…getting another beer,” he said. “Then poker.” He hadn’t even realized he was out until then.

“Go then. I’ll be fine here.” Arthur really didn’t want to leave you. But you were looking at him with a light in your eyes you didn’t normally have. And he knew, stubborn fool that he was, that he wouldn’t always be there to protect you. Now was as good a time as any to test you when you were so comfortable being left alone.

“Stay here,” he said, voice filled with as much authority as he could muster.

“Yes, Arthur,” you teased, and even that did something funny to his insides. Christ, what the hell was he doing, getting so worked up? He needed to be drunker than this. Much drunker.

Two beers later and deep in his cards, Arthur kept turning to make sure you were there. You always were, usually shaking your head at him for the way he played his cards—he was almost out of chips to show for it.

He had a decent hand but not a great one when he heard you come up behind him and whisper, “Fold.”

“Why?”

“Because I saw the other man’s cards.”

Arthur had to stifle his laugh, but he did as you said. Then he was finishing his beer, cashing in while he still had some money left, and leaving the table. Only when you were far enough away so as not to be overheard did he turn to you. “That’s cheating, you know. I didn’t take you for a cheater.”

“I didn’t take you for a terrible card player.”

“I walked into that,” Arthur said as he stepped up to the bar to order yet another beer, this time two. Once in hand, he gave you the second one. “Cheers.”

You looked around for something to do with your empty bottle. “Here,” Arthur said on a laugh, forgetting how much you really didn’t know about this sort of thing. He took it, set it on the bar top, and turned back to you. “Now. To long, miserable, back-breaking travel. And not long left to go.” He held his bottle neck out to yours.

You smiled. “To you, Arthur.” You clinked the bottles together.

“Awe, come on, nameless. Don’t get sappy on me now.”

That smile of yours remained, and Arthur returned it before turning his bottle up.

The night went on, more beer drank and more people spilling in the doors than you had likely ever seen in your life. Arthur knew he was due to be cut off when he saw a few patrons dancing and thought it a good idea for the two of you to join them. Just for a moment. Then he came to his senses. But he asked you anyway, knowing it would irk you.

“Spare me a dance?” He held his hand out to you.

You swatted it away. “Very funny.”

“I’m serious.”

“No, you’re not. I don’t think you know the meaning of that word.”

He barked a laugh. “Probably not.”

“Why don’t you show me this big, bad outlaw I’m supposed to be traveling with instead?”

“What?” He turned to you, shocked you brought it up.

“I keep hearing about him,” you joked. “Haven’t seen him for myself yet.”

“And you ain’t going to. You don’t want to.”

You leaned in close to talk low, and Arthur made a point not to look at you lest he think about how easy it would be to kiss you. “You mean to tell me you haven’t thought of picking anyone’s pocket tonight? Not one?”

Truth be told, he had. It was overcrowded, the patrons were drunk, and it would be easy enough to get lost or blame it on someone else if things went south. But he wouldn’t risk that with you here.

“Maybe,” he said.

“Some outlaw you are,” you teased, and the winning smile you gave him stopped him in his tracks. Half for the look of it, half for how happy you could be while talking about the worst parts of him. Like it didn’t matter that he wasn’t a good man. Like you enjoyed his company anyway. He couldn’t say how much that meant to him.

“Anyway,” you droned on, finishing the last of your beer. “Let’s go back. I’m tired.”

“You’re even whinier when you’re drunk,” he quipped, but he downed his beer too, even through the particularly hard hit you landed on his arm for that one.

He got up and motioned toward the door. “Lead the way then.” You shot him a mischievous look he wanted to kiss right off your mouth. But too quickly, you turned and nearly disappeared into the crowd, so for the second time, Arthur grabbed your hand to keep up with you. The warmth of it in his grasp filled him with whatever happiness he had left. Especially when you wound your fingers through his and led him on.

The two of you made it outside, and only then did you drop his hand, never bringing any attention to the fact that you held it in the first place. He wanted to grab yours again, keep it held in his all the way back. But, he realized, you were already walking, not looking back. He jogged to catch up. Then, like a fool, he debated threading his fingers through yours every step of the way back. He never quite found the courage.

It only hit Arthur that you were about to join him in this hotel bedroom, and that he very much didn’t want to sleep on the floor, when you stepped through its doorway. He watched you shed your coat and hat and boots, doing the same so as not to draw attention to the way his eyes caught on you. After he got his satchel and gun belt off, he turned to find you already curled up in the bed like a cat.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor again, are you?” you said through a yawn.

“My back may never recover,” he joked.

“Come up here then.”

You said it so simply—such an easy thing to agree to. He knew he shouldn’t have, but he couldn’t resist doing it. So he lifted the sheets and laid down beside you, letting you curl around him in a way that had his heart pounding through his shirt. You laid your head right on it and yawned again. “I can hear your heartbeat.”

“That’s a relief. Let me know if it stops.”

You let out a laugh. A genuine, easy laugh that had Arthur wanting to turn your face to his and kiss you then and there. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. The two of you were just lonely and drunk and had each other for company. That didn’t mean he could do something you may not want from him—something you didn’t understand. Not to mention how it would eat at him when he had to leave you so soon. So, he didn’t turn your face to his. He wrapped his arm around you instead and pulled you close, his head resting atop yours in a way that was so comforting it was almost worse.

“I’m glad you’re here, Arthur.”

Your voice was small, heavy with tiredness. And the words cut into him, because he was the one you wanted to help heal your loneliness. Of all people, him.

“I’m glad to be here, nameless.” He truly was.

After long enough that he thought you asleep, you whispered, “Not nameless.”

“What then?” He had never wanted to know a name so badly in all his life.

You just yawned again, curling against him. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

Arthur smiled, looking forward, for the first time in a long time, to waking up.

_________

Chapter fourteen is here.

tag list: @nayomi247 @ultraporcelainpig @photo1030 @spiritcatcherxo @calcarius445

[lunarthecorvus]

Post Crooked Kingdom Canon Compliant fanfiction recommendations part of Lunar's soc fanficiton rec series

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Vol. 1: Council of Thieves by lizaudreys

Wordcount: 122,891 Chapters: 45/45 (part of a series and is continued afterwards)

Characters: Kaz Brekker, Inej Ghafa, Jesper Fahey, Wylan Van Eck, Nina Zenik, Original Female Character(s), Original Male Character(s)

Tags: BAMF Inej Ghafa, Fluff and Angst, Jesper Fahey Has ADHD, Kaz Brekker Needs a Hug, Crime Children, Five Years Later, Post-Book 2: Crooked Kingdom, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn

Author's summary/notes: Five years after the Auction, the Crows have gone their separate ways. That is, until the Council of Tides demands that Kaz Brekker help rescue one of their newest initiates. Grisha all over are being targeted by ships disguised as slavers, rumors of a new form of jurda parem are spreading, and the fate of it all is yet again dependent on an unlikely gang of criminals. My summary/notes: Some fascinating council of tides lore, and the side/original characters in this fic are so interesting. Be prepared this fic has some wesper angst and some definite kanej angst, but there are some adorable moments. Goes into the crows friendships, especially Jesper + Inej and Kaz and Wylan (it does go into more dynamics). To finish it I will say there is a sort of ⊹hiest⊹.

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and you asked me to dance, but I said "dancing is a dangerous game" by sarathedreamer

Wordcount: 28,439 Chapters: 5/5

Characters: Inej Ghafa, Kaz Brekker, Wylan Van Eck, Jesper Fahey, Prince Ilya

Tags: Fluff and Angst, Fluff without Plot, Healing, Post-Book 2: Crooked Kingdom, Post-Book 2: Rule of Wolves, Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant ish

Author's summary/notes: “My darling Inej," he started in a very proper intonation, "treasure of my heart, feared Wraith of the Barrel, Scourge of the Seas, Bringer of Justice and Slayer of Men… would you like to dance with me?" Inej, Kaz, Wylan and Jesper get a very important invitation to the betrothal celebration of a certain Nina Zenik... angst, fluff, and yes, dancing, ensues between the King of the Barrel and the Queen of the Seas. This is part two of my kanej x cowboy like me series! I would highly recommend reading part one first before you dive into this :) Spoilers for RoW and obviously the Soc duology. Most of this is canon compliant because I love to play by the rules (except that we forget about the last two pages of Rule of Wolves for the sake of fluff and angst only... hehe) My summary/notes: Part of the kanej x cowboy like me series, which is such a good series, if you want kanej fluff then that is the series for you. This fic is Inej and Kaz being head over heels with each other for 5 chapters straight, featuring some wesper and Nina. May I intrigue you into this reading this fic by saying it has Kanej flirting and Captain Ghafa. Also THEY DANCE.

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Dealing With Our Demons by @ravenyenn19

Wordcount: 807,697 Chapters: 174/? (updates generally every few months)

Characters: Kaz Brekker, Inej Ghafa, Jesper Fahey, Nina Zenik, Wylan Van Eck, (as well as many other original characters and six of crows side characters)

Tags: Romance, Friendship, Love, POV Kaz Brekker, BAMF Inej Ghafa, Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Eventual Smut

Author's summary/notes: Inej's first letter back to Kaz after she leaves on her journey to hunt slavers, reunion ensues! Will they continue to learn how to battle their demons in order to get close to one another? My summary/notes: A classic Kanej fic, almost every Kanej fanfic reader knows this fic, the writing is impeccable. This fic made me fall in love with both Anika and Pim and then Pimika. To me this fic is canon. Now for a summary, this fic take you on a journey of healing and growing with both Kaz and Inej. You will come out of this fic a changed person.

[vemuabhi]

Hello!! Do you mind doing Sanji with love language of quality time please? Have a lovely lovely day/night!!

(btw, I absolutely adore your blog, and I agree with so many things you’ve said about Sanji!!! Seriously I adore the way you think about Sanji <3 and actually, I’ve been holding this in since I first watched OP and I came across your post about your fav Sanji scenes, just never had the courage to tell you, not to mention I didn’t have tumblr account back then, but: I couldn’t have agreed more with you when you mentioned your feelings about Sanji and Pudding’s kiss. The only difference being that I knew I was already genuinely in love with him, so I felt it hit me quite strongly. And then I started making up all kinds of unrequited love angst scenarios in my head with him, where reader’s are unrequited. Though, I’m genuinely shocked by how similarly we think and simp for the man. I thought I was a crazy idiot until I saw your post. So thank you for sharing all your thoughts :))

Always a Priority

Hey love,

I am so so happy that you have read my favourite Sanji scenes work before and agree with that. I hope you have also read my fav Sanji outfits hehe. And yes, Sanji is someone who has captured my heat from a long while and I haven’t left him since. I am… a bit similar to Sanji when it comes to love. I adapt and make sure that my lover stays happy when they are with me. I… I haven’t been given a proper chance to make someone fall in love. It sucks that It’s always been me who falls in love fast, harder and deeper. So, maybe at some point I realised how Sanji would love his S/O and wondered how beautiful their life would be with him. He is Fictional. I know. I am aware of that. But, when real life just hurts continuously, I found a bit of relief in these fanfics. Getting way too personal here, aren’t I? Hehe, I hope you continue to read and enjoy my writings. Thanks for being here.

This is one of my pieces for the mini event. Please enjoy and let me know what you think about this. Please forgive any mistake, it isn't proofread.

Listen to Earned it by Weekend

Prompt taken from here.

Quality Time

After a long shift of work, you noticed him on his bike outside your work, waiting to pick you up. Even though he was tired, he was everyday waiting for you. As if it was a medicine, your fatigue was gone after seeing him.

As it has been only 3 months since you have been going out, so this was the only time of day you both could meet. Sure, you both went on dates on the weekends but, he wanted to see you everyday just like you did. You sat behind him and hugged him, that was the only thing he wanted from you. Just to feel you beside him. Comfortable. Is how he wanted to make you feel.

You were grateful for him being there to take you home. Especially during the times when you told him to go home as it was getting late. Which was more of the reason he stayed to drop you. The smooth ride with him was all you wanted. Valued. It was what you felt with Sanji.

Before you met Sanji, he would go straight home after a long shift to just crash for the day, sometimes dropping his female colleagues or friends. Too tired to even eat after the day. While you would also go home. Thinking about your life choices. The mistakes you made.

Now, it was different. You both had something to look forward to everyday. Meeting each other even though the time you meet was less, it was all you needed to boost up your oxytocin levels. Everyday, after he dropped you, you made sure that make him eat with you at your house. Then he could go and crash at his place. If you let him go, he would be too tired to make himself something and would not eat. Well, he wouldn’t say no to you, especially since all you wanted was to him to be healthy. Not only he dropped you, he would always eat if he was with you. Always a Priority. For each other.

While he ate with you, he would never look at his phone. Unless if it was urgent call. You were so shocked at how you were being treated by this man before you. Your house was small, but it never felt so warm, like a home until he arrived. You were desperate for love and now, he pulled you out of it. Providing you with the love you never received.

Sanji on the other hand felt his home to be where you were. 3 months. How was his life before he met you, he didn’t want to experience it again. Longing for someone to love him, like he does. He would love to move in with you but, it would be too soon.

You noticed that Sanji was far more patient than you were. He would think a lot. You don’t even know how many times you were impressed by how calm he behaves in the most hectic situations. While Sanji loved how you don’t filter your words with him. Always honest. Straight to point. No mind games. No need to worry, because you’d say what you felt. Making it very easy to understand you.

copyright © vemuabhi

Reblogs and Comments are always appreciated!!

[somedayillbepeterpan]

For Bonus Polinweek Day 5 | Favourite hand scene + Nicola appreciation Day | The Marie Claire AU shoot (sorry if the edit is not good and it has no music. Just think of this as a photo carousel)

I start this appreciation post for this goddess by saying that I hope that every person who deemed it right to ignore her in her 20's are eating glass right now for not giving her the opportunity to shine back then. I could have had Nicola a long long time ago but these clowns kept her from me.

I never expected myself to be this addicted to Polin but I got to say that it really all started with Nicola. S2 brought my attention to Pen because she was sooo messy in that season but I loved how Nicola played that dichotomy. And I really really wanted to know what Pen said to Colin after that awful line.

This led me to the book, to the countless fanfics, to falling in love with the characters, to admiring the actors. I was so excited for Polin season but I did not realise the intense chemistry Nic and Luke had until the press tour started in my backyard, Bowral, Australia. I always thought that they looked great together but that day, when I saw the photos and the clip where Luke showed his tank top to Nicola changed me and I haven't had a proper sleep since.

But this is an appreciation for Nicola so I'll keep my mouth shut about Lukola/Polin 😂

There are only a few actresses that I am dedicated to (meaning, I have seen and supported most of their work). I tend to be picky with the actors I support and I focus on the ones who can successfully disappear in their roles making the character iconic instead of the other way around (think of the reason why some actors become typecasted). I see this so clearly in Nicola and it's why I have rewatched most of her work (honestly, how iconic can you get when most of your work are easily re-watchable?). I see the character and the work that Nicola has put into it. She makes character journals for all the roles that she plays and if that is not dedication, I don't know what else to call it.

For the first time in my life, I bought a fashion magazine so I can have these deliciously gorgeous photos of Nicola. I like fashion in a way that I like looking at aesthetically beautiful things but I would not spend any money on that. But, I bought the Marie Claire AU because I loved this cover shoot. I especially love what Nicola says in the interview: "It is important for people to know I wasn't an overnight success."

She is soul-stirringly beautiful to me. I legitimately always have goosebumps whenever I see a photo of her. I've posted it here before that I genuinely question my sexuality whenever I look at an image or video of her.

Am I just projecting my desire to get over my insecurity over my body on her? Definitely. I cannot even begin to describe the confidence that I feel about myself now because of the mirror scene. I know Nicola doesn't explicitly accept her being a representation of full bodied women but it is her portrayal of Pen in S3 that I finally understood what media representation meant for the first time in my life.

Have I rambled on too much? I will for this woman because there are endless things that I love about her.

I hope she's happy. I hope she is able to rest. And I hope that even more of her dreams come true 🥰

[fandomgirl800]

Anchor

(Mr. Paradox x Reader)

Warnings: grammatical errors

!SPOILERS! for Deadpool & Wolverine

Word count: 2686

Summary: (Y/n) gets teleported to the TVA by agent Paradox who wants her to work for the TVA despite her being clumsy. It seems like a normal job, until…

(A/n): After 3 years of a break, I return with a fanfic that my friend inspired me to write (thank u 💐). There were no fanfics for Mr. Paradox, since the movie is still new, but I thought I could write a few. Also this is my first attempt to write for him.

(Y/n) fell through a portal in a smaller office with a scream. She was quite shaken up as she got up from the ground and looked around. The office was not very spacious, rather small, smaller than she was in for a day in her past jobs. In the middle of the small room was sitting a man in a suit, he looked almost bored.

"W-what...?"

"Before you start asking questions," he started with a very British accent and glanced at a file, with a frown. Then he gave her a questioning look, and there was the awkward silence. He took a deep breath and continued, pointing on a chair in front of his table, "Here, sit."

(Y/n) sat down quietly.

"I-I want to employ you..." he stuttered.

She raised her eyebrows, "Is this the office I sent the application to two weeks ago?"

"What?"

"You know you could have called, I am already employed in a different office as a secretary," she spoke quietly, but slightly smugly.

"No you're not," he rolled his eyes, "This is TVA or Time Variance Authority. I am an agent Paradox."

"Agent? Like... Avengers type of agent?" she raised her eyebrows, "Or just a normal agent? You know I haven't even sent my application here, you must have found my..."

"Enough!" he sighed, "(Y/n) (Y/l/n), if I may, you don't have a choice in deciding whether to work here or not, you will work here..."

(Y/n) slightly frowned, her eyes carefully scanning Mr. Paradox, "Okay 'agent'..." she scowled, "What are the details then, how do I work? Where? How much do I earn?"

He was the one to scowl now, "There are no such things... It seems like you still don't understand. Follow me," he pushed through the small space between the wall and his table, walking out from the small office. Glancing back on the doors, (Y/n) noticed that it said 'Janitor room'.

"Wait, you're a janitor?"

"No?" he scoffed, "The room is just in the stage of intense rebuilding on a proper office."

She nodded and followed him through the TVA, looking around. From time to time he glanced behind at her.

"We do manage time and space here," he spoke and pointed to multiple of the screens on the wall.

"Whoa... Are you sure this is a job for me?" she raised her eyebrow. Mr. Paradox looked very unsure, "Yes."

"Why me?"

"Because you're important for your timeline. You're the anchor," he pointed to a smaller branch, "I want you to work for us, for a special project of mine."

"Who is ‘us’?" she asked and looked around. There was no one behind the tables around them.

"The officers are not here currently..." he spoke and brushed his hair with his hand, "I could use a sandwich... Wait! No, don't touch that!"

He noticed (Y/n) reaching for a couple of buttons. She immediately drew her hand back, "Alright."

"You could have messed up the stats!"

She just stood there awkwardly, "Alright."

"No! That is not alright!" he said and noticed that another smaller branch was created, letting out a displeased grunt.

"I suppose you will fire me now boss..." she spoke timidly.

Mr. Paradox turned to her and sighed, "No! I didn't even begin showing you things around. You will get used to this."

He gave her a look up and down, "Come on, chop, chop, we shouldn't waste time."

(Y/n) was now wearing uniform for TVA agents, nervously fiddling with her hands.

Mr. Paradox still kept reading the same file over and over, while (Y/n) found something much more interesting in the archives. It was a woman named Tess. There was a picture of her, occupation - time agent, and with red letters - terminated. (Y/n) shut the file quickly.

Terminated?

Glancing back at Mr. Paradox, she noticed that he was blushing, shutting the file on (Y/n) that he was reading quickly and moving to another one.

"Uh- boss?" she asked quietly, "What happens to the agents that don't do well?"

Mr. Paradox turned to her on a squeaky chair, "They get re-schooled, or sent to the void. Why do you ask? Don't you have something better to do? I told you to look for the other anchors from other branches."

"But why?" she asked, "For TVA I would expect the place to be a little more electronic and less paper."

"Oh we have that, but we're not fully electronic," he said and fixed his red tie.

"Then why aren't we using the easier search method?" (Y/n) accidentally dropped a stash of files and they spilled on the ground.

Mr. Paradox uncomfortably gulped, "Because I... I can't get to the files right at the moment. You see they are fixing my access card and we can't get to those files without an access card."

(Y/n) would listen closer, but she noticed a file on agent Paradox. She quickly snatched it and placed it under her vest.

"Oh look at that time. I suppose we should go to have dinner," she said and hurried over to her employee room.

Agent Paradox walked to the smaller cafeteria place they had at the TVA, (Y/n) shortly followed. It didn't take much time, she noticed that most TVA agents, officers or even soldiers were looking at them.

They both picked up dinner quietly and went to sit.

"No, don't sit next to me..." he began whispering, but (Y/n) already sat down.

"Why not? You haven't told me that others don't look really friendly," she said and a look of fear crossed her expression.

Instead of answering he quietly ate his sandwich and walked away. That's when she realized that the TVA personel weren't looking at them both. Only at Mr. Paradox.

After hours, as she was explained that she would have to stay in TVA for some time, she walked to her room and lifted her pillow on the bed. The file was still there, it was very dusted. Proof that the electronic versions took the spotlight now.

She began reading the files to find that he attempted to go rogue a few times, failed an attempt to get a date, something called time ripper, attempted destruction of branches, stealing multiple sandwiches from the cafeteria... Of course, breaking rules, reschooling. So naughty...

(Y/n) sighed and then freezed. Attempted destruction of branches?

She remembered the moment when he explained to her how the anchors work. That she was the anchor. Also that without the anchors, the branches begin to slowly wither. Was that the reason she was here? He wanted to destroy her timeline?

(Y/n) ran through the TVA, looking for exit until she didn't bumped right into Mr. Paradox, which resulted in him spilling coffee on them both.

"You should watch where you're go- Oh (Y/n) it's you..." he spoke sighing, "I-"

"Yes I know... The coffee...I am sorry," she nodded and then noticed that he had someone following him, "Who's that?"

"That's your new co-worker, agent... I forgot his name. Now I have to go to change, excuse me," Mr. Paradox said with a very displeased tone and walked back towards his office.

"So agent (Y/l/n) is it? Didn't know you and Paradox were on the first name basis already," he teased, typical bad boy. That weird haircut, expression of a risk taker trouble maker.

"I'm sorry, who are you?"

"You heard him clumsy... Agent 'I forgot his name'," he chuckled.

"You're being rude," (Y/n) tilted her head and frowned.

"Sorry beautiful, pleasure to meet you," he spoke and walked forward to the main room. Great. All those questions she had about agent Paradox and now she had an annoying co-worker. His words left a little blush on her face.

"Agent (Y/l/n)?" Mr. Paradox was standing in the doorway staring at her a bit coldly.

"Yes sir?" she turned to him. He looked almost quite sad.

"Go to work," he uttered and followed the newbie.

Time went by. She lost count of hours, possibly days she spent there. She wasn't exhausted, she wasn't aging, but she grew closer to her co-worker seeing and working with Mr. Paradox less and less. From time to time he walked to see them in the main place where they worked, giving them short glances.

(Y/n) almost forgot about the file she was hiding under the bed. It was getting dusted again. (Y/n) and the rebellious guy that she just called newbie - because he never told her his name - were building something from the spare parts. It was slowly beginning to look like a cube.

"Why do you think the boss wants this?" she asked, putting away a smart tool that she almost got cut with a few seconds ago.

"Whoa carefully darling, we don’t want you to get more clumsy than you are," the newbie spoke and pulled up his safety glasses, "I don't know. But he got me out of my world after some things went wrong."

(Y/N) could hear a nervous clicking from above where Mr. Paradox was sitting.

"By the way thank you for the flowers, I don't have a clue where you got them from. They made me happy. How did you know my favorite color?" she smiled. The chair above squeaked and Mr. Paradox walked away from his usual place.

"I didn't get you any flowers darling," the newbie shook his head clueless, "But I can next time."

She shook her head and looked up at the doors that closed the moment Mr. Paradox exited the room.

On lunch she didn't sat this time next to newbie, but next to Mr. Paradox, "You didn't had to go all Mr. Darcy on me over there you know," she sat down next to him as other TVA members gave him displeased looks, but most of them ignored him.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, "I'm your superior, you shouldn't..."

"What? Sit with you? And who am I supposed to sit with?" (Y/n) frowned.

"Anyone else, your co-worker or anyone," he said grumpily, eating some dessert.

"Didn't have sandwiches today?" (Y/n) asked. He just shrugged.

"Anyways... Thank you for the flowers, they-"

"I didn't give you flowers," he uttered, lying.

"Alright..." (Y/n) stood up and walked back to the workplace, a newbie rushing in her steps.

Mr. Paradox just sighed and leaned on the table, hiding his face in his hands.

One day, she walked into the empty workplace. (Y/n) stumbled to the main screen console and pressed a couple of buttons. It wasn't as complicated as the first day. She didn't look through the time lines, but through the history of TVA security recordings from this room.

She spotted Deadpool, Wolverine, some other people, Mr. Paradox being the boss of the place with many many officers and some soldiers. She sighed and kept rewinding the footage until she didn't spot a familiar woman. Tess. The one from the file she found.

She was speaking with Mr. Paradox. (Y/n) slightly raised the volume and listened.

"Tess I really love you, you're my life, I'd put you before the TVA anyday."

(Y/n) leaned on the squeaky chair and listened to Tess's cold answer.

"I would never love you in this timeline, or any other."

(Y/n) sighed and let the footage play a bit forward seeing Mr. Paradox looking into different branches where he was married, or at least dating Tess and... Was he crying?

"(Y/n)..." the doors behind her opened and she quickly returned the console to the same state in which it was a few minutes ago.

"Boss I didn't..." she paused, seeing him with a broken nose. Again. He held the baton. Behind her on the main screen that watched the flow of the time, one branch began slowly withering.

"Is that the branch of the newbie?" she frowned, "What did you do?"

He let the baton fall to the ground and walked to her, "I had to."

"What did you do to the newbie?!" she stepped back. Mr. Paradox noticed, and sighed, "He was fired."

"Fired? He was definitely more capable than me. Are you sure it had nothing to do with your goal to decimate the branch timelines? You want to speed the process of it because it's too slow or something? Because an agent you used to work with broke your heart?" she took a deep breath, noticing his hurt expression.

"Yes I know. I know that after your last attempt to destroy a branch, you were sent to reschooling. I see it didn't help."

"How do you know?" he asked, scowling.

"I found your file. I know you gave us a task to build you a time ripper. Please tell me you didn't do it just because..."

His silence told enough and now (Y/n) scowled, "You know they will catch you again. This is an incredibly bad plan. Even for you..."

Mr. Paradox just stood there.

(Y/n) walked to the pruner and picked it up.

"What are you doing?" he sighed, "Be careful with that. I don't want you to accidentally prune yourself."

(Y/n) pruned the parts of time ripper, "It wasn't finished anyways. Void can do what they like with that bunch of scrap."

She noticed increased worry on his face, "I won't tell... Just tell me the reason I am here."

"I wanted to accelerate the erasure of the time branches. They shouldn't be. But with the anchors they were still going, so I figured out a plan that would accelerate the process too," he said, "You know the rest."

"Then why am I still here?" (Y/n) threw the baton away, "Why wasn't I 'fired' too? And what happened to Tess, was she fired as well?"

Mr. Paradox walked down the stairs and sat on the close table, "Tess was the one who came up with the plan of erasing the branches. She hated the idea of being with me in any way. And well… Higher ups found out about her plan.”

"Why? I mean you're such a good boss, the best I ever had, and a nice guy besides the long list of bad things in your file..."

He paused, "I wanted to destroy your universe."

"Then why haven't you?"

"I couldn't, I... You fit into TVA so much and you're good with the papers," he lied.

(Y/n) crossed her arms.

"Your co-worker got fired because he flirted with you, and that is not allowed in the work space..." he continued stuttering.

"And the flowers from you?"

"Those were simple romantic gestures from me, not flirting. Also the hallway is not considered as a work space."

"Alright... Just... Don't try to destroy branches again," she shakes her head and walks out from the room to get some air.

Later that day, he knocked on the doors of her employee room. She immediately opened, "I think I should go back to my universe."

Mr. Paradox held something behind his back, "That's sudden... But I understand. I can send you right back," he said, disappointment seeping from the tone of his voice.

"Wait... Will my universe be alright if I stay here?" she sighed again. What was wrong with her heart and mind all of a sudden?

"Yes it will... As long as you stay here, your timeline is secured," Mr. Paradox nodded.

"What are you hiding?" she asked, leaning on the wall.

He blushed, giving her the file with her name, "I admit, I read your file a couple of times, as you read mine. I know you weren't the best worker in your universe. Very clumsy. But I was wondering if you wanted to sit next to me in the cafeteria next time? If you will stay, that is."

She smiled a bit and nodded, "okay boss."

"You can call me just Paradox."

"Will I ever learn your real name," she smiled.

"Maybe."