#RatWrites

[bigratsdeservebigpats]

hi hello i would like to request the heartslabyul boys with an s/o who wants to give them head pls? it would be nice if you could do a lil extra for cater, I know he's not super popular, but I love him sm!!! ty!

I was first gonna try and do an AU with Cater, like as a camboy or soemthing, but then I just went with a longer section :( I think I'm keeping the camboy idea in the back of my mind! Cw: Smut :O

Cater

Cay Cay Darling loves to be a part of the crowd. If you want him, you have to find him first, and that’s as easy as looking at his posts. All that needs to be done is to follow the scent of the latest trends and you’ll find yourself in the back of a snazzy new restaurant, dim lighting cloaking the two of you from the hustle and bustle outside.

Now he wouldn’t expect you to show up here, or to get on your knees right before him. He knows what you’re asking, he doesn’t have to even question it, because this exact scenario permeates his thoughts every day.

He has to refrain from taking a photo (or several), but he knows no picture could ever truly encapsulate every detail he can see. From that sinful twinkle in your eyes, to the lilt in your voice as you ask him to keep his voice down, how is he expected to do the impossible? The squeeze of your hands on his thigh, the muffled press of your lips on his pants, it coaxes all the tiny whines from his throat. He can only do his best to sear the sight of you undoing the button of his jeans to help alleviate the tightness in his crotch. 

He loves loves LOVES when your sweet doe eyes are on him when you guys fuck, watch him crumble when your mouth wraps around him, it’s not the same if you aren’t focusing on him. He demands your full attention with the way his tongue traverses his bottom lip, looking oh-so delicious when he keens into your mouth. 

His dominant hand keeps your head steady as his hips jerk into the plushness of the back of your throat, having to cover his mouth to keep himself from cussing and compromising your positions. It wouldn’t make much of a difference. He can hear the way you gag on his thick cock, slurping up each inch with practiced ease as your nose buries into his pelvis. 

As Cater nears his climax his dick pulses in your mouth with sporadic jumps, nerves jolting him with the building pressure. It doesn’t help that you don’t dare to slow down, milking him with your tight little mouth even after he’s already cum. He has to stop you before oversensitivity hits, or else he won’t be able to walk out of this place. Unfortunately, he still needs his legs for now so you two can hurry home and he can return your favor four times over. 

Riddle

As Mr. Straightlaced himself, he is the most against a sloppy toppy and also the one who also needs it the most. After another tedious day of abiding by the rules and hitting the books, you’re most likely to find him sprawled out on the bed, so very inviting to the way you kiss at his stomach and drag your fingers under his garments. 

He’ll realize it soon enough, but it’s far too late for him to try and deny your advances, not when your lips press against the underside of his half hard cock. Even when he tries to push your face away, his hand slips behind your head to pull you closer.

His most sensitive spot has to be the pretty pink head, he could cum with just you circling his flushed tip with the tip of your tongue! No matter how many times you do this, he can’t adjust to the warmth of your mouth. Poor boy overstimulates himself every time.

Riddle won’t admit it, but he likes cumming all over himself. With his own jizz decorating his tummy, he likes the look you have when you kiss him clean and coo about how cute he is. He’s a bit too sensitive to do it all again, but you have complete control over him if you want the same treatment.

Trey

You have to trust me when I say he’s the MOST dominant of the Heartslabyul boys. He’ll know what’s on your mind even before you do. He’ll see the way your eyes wander lower and lower, how your eyes gloss over and the little shiver in your breath. You don’t even need to ask before he’s excusing the both of you and leading the way to his bedroom. 

He doesn’t mind when you take the lead. After all, you have to work for what you want, don’t you? He’ll watch you pull his trousers down with the sweetest smile, a pure contrast to the lust in his gaze. He’ll whisper things, small praises and sugary words as you swallow him inch by inch.

Trey’s personal favorite move is to grip a handful of your hair and rut into your throat. Don’t worry about your gag reflex, he’ll train it out of you with plenty of patience till you can sit with his dick comfortably in your mouth. 

Trey likes to edge himself. He’ll ask you to slow down when he’s about to cum, fighting every urge to spill down your throat. He doesn’t actually like to cum in your mouth, mostly because he’s tasted it before and boy it isn’t the most pleasant. He can use his magic to make it better, but he just prefers pumping it in a different hole. Speaking of, mind spreading your legs, Love?

Ace

This fuckin brat istg, ever since you offered it once, it’s all he thinks about. He’s the epitome of a teenage boy, pestering you and teasing you just for a chance of getting that gluck gluck 2000. The only time you’ll catch him off guard is after basketball practice in an empty locker room.

He’ll try to push you off, but no one can deny that he’s hard as a rock at a thought. He isn’t even really trying to say no! By the time his shorts puddle around his feet, he’s already putty in your hands, thrusting up into your grip.

Call it a joke but he likes having his balls played with. Roll them in your fingers, circle it with your index and thumb as you suck him off and you’ll have him a mess in no time. Give them a gentle tug and watch him keen, it's really fun.

Because Ace asks for it often, they are usually quickies, but don’t worry, he’s not so much of an asshole to leave you high and dry if you really want more. Probably best to clean up and get somewhere a little more private though. He’s really not the best at shutting up.

Deuce

Deuce is a gentleman, even if his attention is on your lips 25/8 he will not bring up The Segs unless you say it first. Doesn’t matter how long you've been dating or how many times you’ve done it, he keeps his thoughts Written On His Forehead oh my god he’s so obvious please offer first. Watch him light up and his tent rise.

As long as you guys are somewhere private enough, he’s more than happy to indulge himself, falling deeper from each kiss to his length and the silky walls of your mouth. Just keep holding his hand and he’ll gladly follow you into the second circle of hell.

Sweetie Pie likes kisses - scratch that, he LOVES them. He likes them all over him, on his thighs and his shaft or right between his balls and his cock. He would love to spend all day just being lavished in more kisses than he can count, but maybe after…?

Deuce has a negative refractory, by the time he finishes, he’s already begging for another round. Drool gathers on his lower lip as he bucks his hips, pearlescent beads of precum forming strings against your tongue. “Just one more time…” he pleads, although the both of you know it’s a lie.

#ratwrites #disney twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #heartslaybul x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle rosehearts #riddle smut #riddle x reader #cater x reader #cater diamond #cater diamond x reader #cater smut #trey x reader #trey clover #trey smut #trey clover x reader #ace trappola #ace x reader #ace trapolla x reader #ace smut #deuce x reader #deuce spade #deuce spade x reader #deuce smut #twst smut #smut

[ratdoeswriting]

elsa’s song

summary:  Every day since Geralt had left him on the mountain, Jaskier had been off kilter. He had still performed and fucked his way across the continent but it hadn’t felt right and it pissed him off more than anything. It was, ultimately, pathetic. So he turned it to his advantage and wrote song after song about how much he hated Geralt now, though he isn’t sure who he was fooling.

pairings: jaskier/geralt

warnings: past injury, past burns, emotional hurt, miminal comfort

word count: 2.5K

a/n: i finally watches series 2 of the witcher and had so many ideas i couldn’t decide and then i saw this post by @wren-of-the-woods on tumblr: https://wren-of-the-woods.tumblr.com/post/674200012768542720/dont-think-about-jaskier-lute-less-and-alone-in (hopefully that works) snd so here we are!! Also yeah maybe i dont really get what the song is about but uts still a vibe <3

~~~

I can hear the cannons calling As though across a dream And I can smell the smoke of hell In every stitch and seam ~ Every day since Geralt had left him on the mountain, Jaskier had been off kilter. He had still performed and fucked his way across the continent but it hadn’t felt right and it pissed him off more than anything. It was, ultimately, pathetic. So he turned it to his advantage and wrote song after song about how much he hated Geralt now, though he isn’t sure who he was fooling.

He thought that he finally had his head on straight as the sandpiper, like he had found a purpose to his restlessness. And then Yennefer had come crashing back into his life and he felt as if she had kicked him into the past and he was right back where he had started. Except this time, he didn’t get to adjust because next thing he knew he was kidnapped and tortured, then arrested and imprisoned, then saved and dragged halfway across the continent to a place he had once thought he could call home.

Which brought him to here, now, wandering the halls of Kaer Morhen trying to work out where it all went wrong. And he wanted his lute - not that he could play it with the burns still blistering his ginger tips.

Since he had left home, all he truly had was his music, his lute and his ability to perform and now without that-

He didn’t feel like he belonged, at Kaer Morhen, like he wasn’t needed - everyone there had a role to play, and the only role he could play, the entertainer, had been ripped away from him. He was fading away. Maybe the only thing that had been keeping him here was the audience - in the same way a tree would fall in a forest, would he cease to exist if the audience could no longer see him?

He tried to write. He wanted to write something jaunty, something that would keep spirits high, but every word that bleed from his damaged body was a stain on the page, and every time he tried to sing it, it sounded like a cry for something he didn’t want to name.

Part of him still couldn’t believe he agreed to any of this, couldn’t believe that he went back on every promise he made to himself just because Geralt had asked. It was pathetic. A sick, twisted part of him wished they were still at war.

~~~

And like flowers, the bodies tumble Around this muddied lot I cannot hear them scream "Forget me not" ~ It was working slowly into spring, and normally the keep would be mostly empty, but it seemed that the world would have to cope a few more weeks with a few less witchers. Jaskier wasn’t sure they had spent this long together in… who knows how long, they were all so old it was hard to keep track of the time. It seemed to be doing them good, though: being surrounded by people who understood what they went through, both here and on the path.

He had once told Yennefer that as an artist, it was his job to put himself in other people’s shoes, and he was good at it, he was good at reading people, even from a distance. Which is handy because that’s all he really does nowadays.

Jaskier had taken up his seat hours ago, on the ledge of his window, on leg on either side, as he watched idly. Geralt was training Ciri again, Yennefer watching from the side, seeming to give pointers. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, could barely even make out their faces, all he could see was the way they were moving, almost as one but never quite together, like they were scared of getting too close, of getting hurt, Jaskier could almost hear them saying, begging “I am here, please, I am here don’t forget me” and he could feel them calling back “I won’t, you're here, please do the same for me.”

~~~

Your voice it carries over The hubbub and the hum And it paints the sky and circles high Like the beating of a drum ~ Jaskier was almost certain he was losing his mind. This was not a new feeling - living his life had led him to see some truly horrifying things, things he shouldn’t have come back from, but he did. Every time. But he’s only human and there’s only so many times he can break before the pieces are too small to put back together, so small that they get lost and he loses part of himself.

He had lost his patience. He was restless, irritable and he just wanted his fucking lute. Normally he would play his old songs, finding comfort in something that comes so naturally, however now he wants to play his new song, one that has been writing itself.

Not that he would be able to play it though, not physically. His hands were still ruined, and he still wakes up screaming, can feel his hands burning like it had just happened. He wishes he could lose this part of himself instead.

All of the days are blurring into one at sickening speeds, but, maybe three weeks after everything had happened, everyone else seemed to be putting themselves back together, along with the keep.

They had started in the hall, slowly cleared the rubble and assessed the damages and now had one long table. Despite its size, they all fitted comfortably around one end and spent most evenings there.

It would be so easy for everyone to be lost, their sadness and anger echoing around the too-empty room, for the grief to sit where their family once had, but instead it was filled with joy, with laughter, enough that it bounced off the walls and danced in the air above him, and the air around his head felt so light that he could drift further and further from reality, like everything fell away around him and he plummeted, down, down, down…

Until he heard a voice, deep and rumbling, rhythmic like a drum and it shocks him enough that Jaskier’s heart can almost beat normally again.

“Jaskier? Take a breath.” Geralt says, so close he can feel the vibrations, “You’re safe here.”

Jaskier tries not to shake his head.

~~~

You will scream "I won’t forget you" But I’ll cover my cold ears It cannot be a lie If no-one hears ~ He was mostly left alone, whether because he wasn’t wanted here or because no one knew what to say to him, or they thought he needed time, he didn’t know. What he did know is that Geralt must have learned his stubbornness from Vesemir because Vesemir had made it a point to talk to Jaskier every single day, even after Jaskier had told him, very directly, to fuck off. He hadn’t really meant to.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what-”

“You don’t have to apologise. I can see how much you are struggling. I can see how difficult this all is for you.”

“I’m- I’m fine. I’ve been through worse than that.”

“I don’t doubt it, Jaskier, but something’s got to give. There’s a lot of people who won't forgive themselves if it's you. You need to find a way to handle this. Even though you didn’t fight, physically, you fought in every other way that matters. It still will take a toll.”

He was silent for a long time, legs swinging on the window ledge, “I know. I know that I played a big part in leading that… that firefucker here, I played a big part in endangering you and your family. I have hurt-” he looked at Vesemir, “I have hurt so many people.”

“Jaskier, you are human. Your body was not made to endure what you did, you would never have been expected to endure that, not for as long as you did and certainly not for any longer. Nobody blames you for anything that has happened, least of all me.”

His words fell on deaf ears. He didn’t want to believe the truth that laced each one.

“You are not forgotten, Jaskier.”

~~~

'Cause although you say good day to me I know I don’t belong ~ Jaskier woke up to a bone deep sense of ill ease trying to claw its way out of his body: his hands shook, his heart raced, and he could not stop fidgeting, legs bouncing whilst he ate breakfast, whilst he tried to sit and read, until he dropped his book and bolted from the room.

An hour later he had walked the border of Kaer Morhen twice and was well into his third lap before he started to slow down. There was a dull ache in his calves, his shoes had started to pinch and Jaskier found startling comfort in the pain.

“Geralt must have rubbed off on me - I fear I am not long for this place.” He said idly to a bird that had been following him, “Not that I’m going to die. I don’t think I'm going to die. No, I just feel rather restless, having been in one place for so long. Somewhere I don’t belong.”

He pondered briefly on whether he should incorporate some rhyming into this new song, but the thought was quickly drowned out, the idea of getting out of here, the idea of getting out of the keep, off of the mountain, hell, maybe off the continent - it was too enticing.

He took another lap.

~~~

And although you hold my hand and say "I love you," you are wrong Because love does not exist here In this garden, there’s no feeling And you say the words so often That I barely know the meaning ~ As it turns out, walking around one place meant that Jaskier had discovered some lovely little hideaways. This one was his favourite - at the junction of two crumbling walls was an alcove, overshadowed by deep green bushes, ivy creeping up the brick work and moss covering a conveniently chair-shaped stone. There was enough light to write, enough shade that he wouldn't burn, and enough quiet for him to iron out some of the more elaborate metaphors he was working on.

“Jaskier? Are you in here?”

He entertained the idea of hiding from Yennefer, just briefly. And then he remembered that she wouldn't ask a question she didn’t already know the answer to, so saved himself the embarrassment and just closed his notebook.

“You’ve been here a lot. How’s the song coming along.”

“Slowly. What can I do you for, Yennefer?”

“I was hoping you would do me a favour.” She said, her voice business like, as it had been when they met years ago, but her eyes, the way her hand found his, it was a comfort they had only recently reached that made him both melt and freeze-up simultaneously.

“Stop hiding, Jaskier.” She says with such sudden intensity that he can only blink in shock, “You need to talk to someone - I don’t care if it’s me, if it’s Geralt, or if it’s a damned tree, but you need to talk to someone.”

“Does my notebook count?” He tries to joke, but Yennefer doesn’t seem to be in a joking mood.

“I can see you falling apart, and it’s no wonder. I don’t think you have even processed how much you have to deal with, not least the fact that you risked your life every single day to smuggle people to safety. That was all you, Jaskier, there’s no words to even describe the impact you had, but it’s too much for you to do alone.”

“But I did it. I have managed alone before, and I can do it again.”

“No, I don't think you have been managing. You’ve been hiding. You cannot stay hidden because you are not alone.”

~~~

And when all the flowers are rotten And all the cannons shot I’ll scream, but you won’t hear "Forget me not"

And in years to come, you’ll wander To the place up on our hill And then you’ll cry to our painted sky

"I loved him then, I love him still" And you’ll strew some sage and lilies And roses where I rot ~ He can't say exactly what it was, but something Yen said had struck a nerve. He had to get out of Kaer Morhen. He was watching everyone around him move forwards, trying to coax him along with them, but he’s so lost, every time he even thinks about taking a step forwards, he’s ripped two steps back, his mind regurgitating the most violent memories it can find on a loop.

His fingers are still blistered and scabbed. One of them splits open as he packs his bags, but he pays it no mind. He looks around the room he had been staying in, as if he had anything to forget. All he had was a few sets of clothes and a notebook. He felt so exposed without his lute.

Geralt had left a few days ago, Ciri and Yen in tow, with a promise that he would be back within the week. Jaskier planned to be gone by then, hopefully closer to the mountain than here. He isn't sure what he plans to do when he gets there, perhaps head to the coast, but that was a bridge he would burn when he got to it.

“Of all the flowers you picked, I knew you would forget forget-me-nots…”

He finishes singing the last line as he ties his pack shut and pulls the door open.

Geralt is standing on the other side, one hand raised to knock. He doesn't look at all surprised that Jaskier is about to leave.

“I thought I might have missed you. You’re heading back to Caingorn, it’s a long way and you’ll need coin. Thought this might help,” he said, raising his other hand now which was- oh. A new lute.

“I don’t-”

“I understand that you want to leave, Jaskier. I’m not going to stop you, I just ask that you return once you’ve done what you need to do.”

He cannot comprehend what Geralt is saying - he wants to hear it as goodbye, as Geralt moving on from him and forgetting him, but he knows that Geralt is refusing to forget him, the stubborn bastard. “I will, Geralt. Thank you.” He says, reaching gingerly to take the lute from Geralt's still outstretched hand.

Geralt catches his wrist, turns his hand so the palm faces up and looks at the shredded skin, marred with burns and at the absolutely devastated look on Geralt's face he can feel his resolve crumbling.

“Let me dress your hands before you go? You won't be able to play if they get any worse.”

His thumb is rubbing gently, absently over Jaskier’s pulse - surely he must feel it jump - and Jaskier breaks down. He isn't sure that he had cried since… he’s not even sure when but he can’t seem to stop now, legs giving out beneath him as his body shakes with the force of it. The only thing that stops him from hitting the floor is Geralt, one arm wrapped securely around his waist, the other cradling the back of his head as they fall to the floor together, the setting sun painting their skin in warmth.

#ratwrites #the witcher #hurt/comfort #lmk if i need to tag anything else #past injury

[ratwrites]

I don’t post on Tumblr anymore. If anyone would like to see more of my art you can find me 

here - https://www.deviantart.com/fijjybean

here - https://www.furaffinity.net/user/fijj

If you’d like to see more writing, you can find me

here - https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ratwrites

I don’t really post a lot of stories online anymore so. Rip

#art #artist #digitalart #deviantart #furaffinity #furry #furryart #furryartist #fursona #mainoc #oc #original character #anthro #anthroart #anthroartist

[thorinlandscaping]

basic hobbit etiquette

my @officialtolkiensecretsanta for @i-did-not-mean-to

If there was one truth in the universe, it was that Thorin Oakenshield loved Bilbo Baggins. This fact was irrefutable; there was no denying it. Thorin had declared it after his near-death experience, then again in the Shire once he’d healed, he’d declared it in front of half his kingdom when he asked Bilbo to marry him, and all of his kingdom when they’d gotten married.

Which was why it utterly confounded him when people of all kinds kept trying to seduce him. The continued barrage of marriage proposals, sultry gazes and thinly veiled innuendo drove him absolutely mad. He was a dwarf, he would only love once, and his heart had chosen Bilbo.

Not that anyone else who hadn’t spent any significant time with Bilbo seemed to accept it. He’d asked Dwalin why everyone was so against Bilbo, and Dwalin had informed him that most dwarves held a grudge for the whole Arkenstone business. Couldn’t they see that Thorin had been the one at fault? Of course not, they never bothered to learn more about Bilbo than that single story, nevermind all the times Bilbo had saved his and his companies lives.

Thorin was in a fowl mood, having just been proposed to yet again. He stomped his way down the passages of Erebor, a scowl marring his face. Any that may have wished to stop him fled his path when they caught a glimpse of him.

He just wanted to get back to Bilbo, he just wanted to hold his husband and make sure that he was real and not just a person he was making up. After so many others had ignored their marriage, Thorin felt like it would almost make more sense for Bilbo not to exist.

When he finally reached their chambers, he felt a wave of relief wash over him. In his rooms, no one could propose to him unwantedly.

“Three people proposed to me today, Bilbo,” Thorin declared as he burst into their bedroom. “Three. One of them was an elf!”

Bilbo barely looked up from his book. “Dear, this happens every day. You shouldn’t get so upset about it. It’s a simple passive-aggressive display. If you show that it doesn’t bother you, then they’ll stop.”

“It upsets me because it means that the people of my kingdom do not respect you. You are important to me and so you should be important to them, but they insist on undermining your importance.”

Bilbo looked at him, love and amusement in his eyes. “My love, they think they can do that because you have never properly turned down a proposal. If you want them to leave you alone, you have to shove it in their face. Some people just don’t understand subtlety, and in that case you must humiliate them to make them understand. Very basic hobbit etiquette. My aunt Mirabel does it all the time, and it is a joy to watch.”

Whenever Bilbo explained it, simple hobbit etiquette seemed incredibly complex. This time, though, Thorin understood perfectly. He had been avoiding being rude to any of the people who had proposed to him, but Bilbo was right. He had to be more firm with them.

“Now will you come to bed? I’ve had a long day, that one council member that hates me, Sed something or other, called me bare-footed. I’m in need of some comfort.”

Thorin winced. Seved had probably been referring to Bilbo’s lack of shoes, but Thorin wass well aware that Bilbo would take it as Seved insulting his foot hair.

“Of course, my dear. I will be there momentarily.”

After changing into his sleep clothes, Thorin happily laid down next to Bilbo and gathered him into his arms. They spoke softly, chattering away about how their days had been, until Bilbo fell into a light doze. Thorin pulled him closer to his chest and buried his face in Bilbo’s soft curls.

“Why do you find this situation so funny?” Thorin grumbled into Bilbo’s hair.

“Because,” Bilbo mumbled back, sleep fogging his voice. “I know you’d never accept them. They’re really rather embarrassing themselves by throwing themselves at you.”

When Thorin looked at it that way, it really was quite amusing.

Thorin fell asleep thinking about how he would turn down the (hopefully) final marriage proposal the next day.

The opportunity came almost immediately after Thorin and Bilbo had left their chambers. Just outside the council chambers doors, they were stopped by a well-dressed, finely-groomed dwarf. He began to open his mouth, and Thorin knew exactly what he would say.

“Your highness, I know this is forward and sudden, but I think, no, I know, that you are my One. I would never be able to go on without you, so I must humbly request your hand in marriage.”

In any other situation, Thorin may have considered being slightly more kind than he was. In this case, the dwarf had gone so far as to propose to Thorin in front of his husband. Thorin had no intention of going easy on him.

“No. No, I do not want to marry you. I am married already, if you hadn’t heard about it. I know we only invited the whole kingdom of Erebor, as well as the citizens of Dale and the Woodland Realm, so you may not have known. But I am, in fact, very happy with my husband and am in no need of any other spouse, ever.”

Thorin turned his back on the dwwarf and stomped over to where Bilbo had retreated to watch the situation unfold.

“How’d I do?” Thorin whispered to Bilbo.

“Oh,” Bilbo snickered softly, “You did very well. My Aunt Mirabel would be proud.”

Thorin smiled. Perhaps now, he would no longer be hounded by unwanted suitors, and be able to love Bilbo without being undermined. He kissed Bilbo gently on the head, his arm wrapped around his waist as they walked away from the humiliated dwarf. Bilbo scoffed

“Thorin Oakenshield, you come down here and give me a real kiss.”

Thorin, as usual, did as he was told.

#tss2021 #the hobbit #hobbit #tolkien #ratwrites #umm #bagginshield #hope you enjoy! sorry it's slightly late

[winchesterbrotherstan]

MCU: Logan Barnes-Stark- March 29, 1993

Pairing: Alex Danvers (OC) x Logan Barnes-Stark (OC)

Summary: The pair figures out their case. An unseen event occurs.

Warnings: cursing, fight that ends very very badly, few mentions of blood

Word Count: 1030

I pressed play on the computer at my side. I kept my eyes focused on the projector screen, no matter how much it made my eyes burn. It was past one in the morning. Steve had gone into the ice forty-eight years ago on the 5th. It only made me more determined to find Howard’s killer. I sighed as the video played. My stomach churned as I watched a HYDRA agent swerve his motorcycle, causing Howard to crash into a telephone pole.

“Why did they go in the dead of night?” I whispered, drained.

Alex shook his head from the desk chair. “I wish we knew. None of it ever makes sense.”

“Wait, wait, wait. There!” I pointed, and Alex scrambled to pause the video. “Go back, just a second or two.”

He did as told, and I scoffed. “Fucker looks right at the camera.”

“It’s no use, Lo. Half his face is covered.”

I shook my head. “It’s better than nothing. Is there any way you could pull a decent-quality image from it?” I crossed my arms over my chest.

He turned back to the computer and nodded, sighing deeply. “Yeah. It might take a while, but I’m pretty sure I can do it.”

“Cool.” I sighed, turning my attention to the papers amassed on the table. “I’ll pull the list of known HYDRA agents that were in the same area around the same time.”

Alex nodded, turning his full attention to the computer. I stifled a yawn as I sat down at the table, pulling a pile of filing folders towards me.

************************************************************************

“Logan, wake up.” Alex’s hands were on my shoulders, gently squeezing.

“What’s up?” I sat up, wiping my eyes.

“You crashed looking through all of our intel, but I got the picture.” He pushed himself up to sit on the table. “It’s clear. We can find him.”

I held my hands out for the picture. I rubbed the last of the sleep from my eyes and held the picture in the light, ready to bust the sick son of a bitch once and for all.

“Lo?” Alex asked, trying to gauge my reaction.

I ripped the paper in my hands to shreds, and Alex scrambled to pick them all up. I went straight for the computer, and Alex caught my wrist, yanking me back.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I can’t.” I spoke through gritted teeth, pulling my arm back to no avail.

“Logan, we’ve been working on this for a year and half. What the fuck is going on?”

I shook my head. “Alex. I know this person-”

“What the hell-”

“And I can assure you that they are not-”

“Logan, what the fuck!”

“They are not in control of themselves! He’s not. Okay? Because he wouldn’t do this.” I jerked my arm back and went for the computer again.

Alex followed, scowling. “You were dead to the world for thirty years. People change.”

“Not him.” I shook my head and turned to him. “Not him, not like that. I promise. You need to trust me, Alex.”

“Why the fuck would I do that?”

I hit the button to delete all of the work we had done over the last year.”

“You know me, Alex. You know about my parents, about Steve, about the serum and the other weird powers. You know about my brother. About how he fell off a fucking train and nobody blinked twice. And I know you. I know about your shitty father and about your dead mom, and I know about Carol.”

“Shut up.” Alex hissed.

“I need you to trust me, Alex.”

“For fucks sake, Logan-”

I didn’t give him the chance to finish. I tore the computer in two, ripping out the hard drive.

“You wouldn’t fucking dare.”

I held it in my hands and snapped it over my knee.

“You’re fucking crazy.”

“God, Alex, if only you fucking knew.” I spat, feeling an anger I had last felt when Steve lost Bucky.

“So what now? You gonna go fucking rogue?”

I laughed. “I’m gonna blame you for all of this,” I pointed at the mess of technology, “and then I’m gonna get to go back under.”

He started for the door. “I don’t fucking think so.”

I was faster, stronger, stealthier. I was unstoppable. A super-soldier pissed beyond belief. And I would do whatever it took to protect my family. I flicked my knife from its holster.

“I’m sorry, Alex. I really did love you. I’ll make sure it’s painless.”

************************************************************************

I sat in the middle of the room, covered in bruises and sweat. My nose was bleeding, and I had earned a gouge above my eyebrow from Alex’s wristwatch. He had fought back hard, but I couldn’t be helped. I needed to protect the person who killed Howard, no matter how much it compromised my integrity, or that of my soul.

“He revealed himself as a HYDRA agent and tried to strangle her.” Keller whispered to his boss, who had come to see the scene himself.

“She fought back?”

“She’s a super-soldier, sir. The one Carter left on ice.”

Keller’s boss nodded, and as he looked at me, I looked away. A white sheet soaked the blood that had spilled. They spoke again, this time in whispers. Keller approached me, squatting so that we would be eye-to-eye.

“Please, sir.”

“What is it?”

“Please put me back on ice.” I whispered, feeling tears well in my eyes.

I wanted to rest.

“No.”

“What?”

“If you don’t wanna keep working with us, there’s the door.” He pointed over his shoulder.

I forced myself to my feet and scowled. “Go fuck yourself, Keller.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about all the fucked shit you’ve pulled.” I called over my shoulder as I began to make my way out of the room.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Keller’s boss grabbed my shoulder.

I shook him loose. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Barnes!” Keller shouted.

I kept my head down and made a break for it as SHIELD agents began to come after me. I busted out of the office building, and disappeared into the street.

Previous: January 25, 1992

Next: ???

#mcu #mcu shield #mcu fandom #mcu fic #mcu oc #mcu ocs #marvel #marvel oc x marvel oc #marvel ocs #marvels shield #marvel fandom #marvel oc #marvel fic #barnes!oc #barnes!reader #apollowrites #junowrites #ratwrites

[stardustdiaries]

Clone Fic Recs

Just because the Clones deserve the world and these pieces are amazing🤚🏼🤍

(@dindja come get your men👀)

CAPTAIN REX

Rest by @triptuckers

Summary:  touching prompt 22: falling asleep on the other’s shoulder

Warnings: none

2. Butterfly Kisses by @damerondala

Warnings: FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF!!! there is literally nothing saucy about this at all. no y/n used and gender neutral reader! :D 

3. As long as I live by @ratwrites

Summary: Rex's Jedi General is severely injured during battle and he refuses to leave her side

Warnings: Major injury, angst, lots of fighting, lil bit of fluff

4. Clone Wars- Captain Rex x Reader: Meeting at the Gym by @rainydaydream-gal18

5. Battle Scars by @wecallhimbrowneyess

Summary: Everything has been tense after the events of Umbara. Rex does everything to return to normal, despite the weight he carries on his shoulders of his lost brothers. Not being able to sleep, Rex goes to the training room where he finds you and the new scars on your back.

6. December Prompts- Day 24: Rex x reader by @starwarschicken

Warnings: None

7. FRIENDLY FIRE ──── i. and ii. by @vizslasaber

PART ONE-

summary: after landing on the umbaran surface, you butt heads with your fellow general—but get along swimmingly with the captain.

warnings: combat/action, mentions of injury + death, krell being a bitch, and gender neutral use of the term “sir.” 

PART TWO-

summary: the mission continues, and with it, your growing suspicion of krell’s methods. the ever-calming presence of the captain, however, might pose as an unwelcome distraction.

warnings: combat/action, mentions of injury + death, krell being a bitch as usual, gender neutral use of the term “sir,” gratuitous use of mando’a, and one shakespeare reference because i couldn’t help myself.

8. overworked by @wxnderlustfandoms

pairing: 501st x jedi!reader (platonic), captain rex x jedi! reader (romantic)

description: After injuring yourself in battle, you’re not allowed to go back on the field until you’re completely better. However, you still have a lot of things that need done around the ship to help the clones out and fulfill your duties. The 501st are concerned that you’re pushing yourself past your limits, especially a certain clone that feels a certain way about you.

warnings: angst-ish, mention of blood

9. Untitled by @kill-the-feels

Prompts: 13. “How long ago did this happen?” 30. “No, you’re not fine. You need help.”

Warnings: mentions of injuries and blood

10. Keep Your Captains Close by @the-lady-of-stars

Prompts: “Have you ever kissed someone before?”     *Touch-starved*    “I had a nightmare about you and wanted to make sure you were okay”

11. Night Out by @clone-rambles

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, cat calling, and a big ol punch

12. Tonight by @din-damn-djarin

Summary- At the end of a long, busy day all you want is to relax. Of course, your plans are put on hold when Echo barges in with an injured Rex in tow.

Warnings- Injuries including a blaster shot wound, hurt/comfort, Medic!reader, pining

13. The Prank by @din-damn-djarin

Summary- Rex has no idea how you manage to talk him into these things, they never end well, yet he always ends up going along with it anyway.

Warnings- None that I’m aware of, it’s fluffy and a little bit silly!

COMMANDER CODY

Untitled (Mechanic!Reader) by @ahsokasleftbicep

Warnings: none

2. Untitled by @starwarschicken

Prompt 53: “I have a hole…in my side.” - “I’m sorry, what?” - “I was shot.”

Warnings: Reader in so much pain that they are laughing (is that a thing? Well too bad, I just made it a thing) Angst Angst Angst Angst !!! Character Death! Injuries (not too graphic I think)

3. Injury by @minchai

Warnings - descriptions of a battle, reader is wounded but the description isn't graphic, suM ANGST

ARC TROOPER FIVES

1. Reckless by @din-damn-djarin

Summary- Fives’ visits are always welcomed, you just wish he’d stop being so stubborn whenever he turns up with a new injury.

Warnings- Hurt/comfort, minor injury, Fives is a stubborn little shit.

COMMANDER WOLFFE

1. Untilted by @ahsokasleftbicep

2. Untitled by @ahsokasleftbicep

Prompt: “Well? Yell, scream, say something. Anything!”

3. An Eye for an Eye by @vizslasaber

summary: you wonder, on the bad days, if the war will cause too much hurt for you to heal. commander wolffe proves you wrong.

warnings: graphic descriptions (don’t read this if you’re squeamish), fluff.

4. Fake Boyfriend by @the-and-sign-anon

MEDIC KIX

Untilted by @echos-newlegs

Prompt: Kix x Reader: "you can't just bottle everything up forever, talk to me.." and "I had another nightmare... this time you were there.."

Warnings: none, it does get angst though. Kix basically 0aving a panic attack over his dream is all.

2. Stitched Together by @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life

Prompts: “Can you shut up for once in your life?” and “I think I’m in love with you.”

Warnings: Blood. Mentions of injury and the treatment of that injury. Mentions of death.

3. Kix providing medical comfort (gn!jedi!reader) by @koskareevesismyqueen

Warning: Discussion of medical based topics including needles and dislocation.

#tcw #the clone wars #star wars x reader #captain rex fluff #captain rex x reader #captain rex #commander cody #commander cody x reader #medic kix #kix x reader #clone trooper kix x reader #umbara arc #arc trooper fives #fives x reader #commander wolffe #commander wolffe x reader #fic rec #tcw fic rec #tcw fanfic

[buckysxgal]

Steve Rogers - Fanfiction Recommendations

Ocean Eyes [18+] - sinner-as-saint

She's The One [Actor Fic | Masterlist] - worksby-d

All About That Beard [Actor Fic] - angelkurenai

Tell Me Tell Me... Baby - mariah-vg

Countryside Home - optimistic-dinosaur-nacho

Freezing - marvel-af

You Are My Sunshine, My Only Sunshine - oliverwxod

Don't Go - chrevastan

For A Moment - chrevastan

Jokes - aquaticalay

Welcome To Womanhood - manawhaat

Have I Ever Told You How Beautiful Your Eyes Are? - ratwrites

America's Sweetheart - generallynerdy

Let Her Know - tarynkauai

Anxious Mind - stevenrogerssss

It's Getting Hard - chantelle-x0x

Make Some Noise [18+] - after-avenging-hours

Haven - ugh-supersoldiers

I Love You For You - avengersandchill

Sunday Kind Of Love - bbbarneswrites

Doormat - fandom-smut-shots

I Promise - emmelineparker308

Discomfort - broadwayandnetflix

Misdialed - written-s0ul

My Girl - kaunis-sielu

Average Avenger's Gal - steves-on-a-plane

The Three Things That Confused Steve Rogers - hogwarts--imagines

Abort Mission - iwillbeinmynest

Since Then Part 2 [Actor Fic] - avaalons

Be Our Guest [Actor Fic] - my-emotional-self

The Color Red [Soulmate AU] - imaginativemarvel

Singing A Christmas Tune - whitewitchdown

Starshine - a-splash-of-stucky

Stop Lying [Actor Fic] - my-emotional-self

Goodbye For Us - writemarvelousthings

[ardentmuse]

Flufftober - Day 1 (Pregnancy)

Day 1 - Pregnancy

Kingsman Harry Hart x fem!pregnant!reader

Warnings: Talk of sex, Talk of pregnancy, brief mentions of criminal activity

Flufftober Masterlist // Masterlist

A/N: Here’s to the first post of the month. It’s weird to be writing in ficland again after a year almost solely professionally writing and publishing well 400k+ of interactive fiction. I really hope this little bit gives you all some joy today.

Harry thought breaking the Gentleman’s Code would be an overwhelming point of shame for him. For years, he couldn’t even fathom it. To break something so sacred as his commitment to the rules and guidelines of a true Kingsman seemed an inexcusable sin.

But now, looking at you as you rest on your side in bed, your breasts gently spilling out of your top and your belly cradled in your hands, Harry can’t look at his transgression as anything but the single greatest decision he has ever made.

Sure, taking down your corrupt oligarch of an uncle was a point of pride for his career, but the point of pride in his life was the night after your uncle was captured and your partnership would have to come to an end and Harry somehow found the courage in himself to carry you to his bed. The feeling of justice served always fueled him but he discovered a new fire that came with the soft touch of the skin of your shoulder against his lips, the sound of your pleased mewls right in his ear, and the gentle caress of your hands on his back as you promised him you wanted this just as much as he did.

Even though he is already running late for work — and with the promotion of the newest Arthur to be the focus of the meeting making it particularly important that Harry show up on time — he can’t find it in himself to move any faster.  The way the soft curves of your body move and how you skin glistens in the new morning sun makes Harry seriously reconsider how much he really cares about appointments and schedules. He’d take you right now if the doctor’s hadn’t requested pelvic rest. He’d take you right now if he weren’t so worried he’d finish before you could even get your own pleasure from him.

When you roll over and smile as him as he’s putting on his tie, he thinks to himself for not the first time that he’s somehow found some secret sauce— a combination of satisfying and heart-affirming things that have come together to form a life he loves and would change for nothing.

“I’ll be back for dinner, love,” he whispers as he takes his steps toward you.

He touches the smooth, taut skin of your stomach so he can lean down and kiss you properly but he’s greeted by a firm, swift bump to his just a little north of his palm. Harry’s eyes widen as he looks up at you, but you only have laugher to offer him.

“You really think she was going to let you leave without saying goodbye,” you tease, but Harry’s only has eyes for your stomach. The tiny life, still months away from joining on this side of your body, is still present and attentive, communicative and strong. And for some reason, the thought that passes through Harry’s mind is one he realizes he didn’t fully process until this very moment; I have love enough for both of them, and love even greater still.

He kisses you hard on the mouth, consumed by that spark of passion that started in his chest and now makes his limbs tingle. And when he pulls away with a breathless sigh, he too kisses the skin just above your navel— a promise to the child for whom you’re about to make an incredibly loving home that he’s not about to forget the beautiful things his love can create. A family, a community, a safe world. A life he’s happy to live.

All tags: @aerdnandreaa, @thisisbullshytt,  @cancerousjojian, @whovianayesha, @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy, @luna-xxxxx, @sleepylunarwolf, @starryrevelations, @potter-thinking, @all-by-myself98, @bananafosters-and-books, @cutie-bug, @igotmadskills, @hazelandcoconuts, @yallgotkik, @amberkay284, @13ofjuly, @daft-not-punk

Kingsman tags: @allonsymexgirl, @thecaptainsgingersnap, @doct0rstrange, @ratwrites, @kaeleabres, @nellietara, @ediblemurderer, @allofthekingsmen, @girlonfireice, @epicallychrissy, @justawriterinprogress

Harry Hart tags: @un-educational​, @lexicon04​, @bananzaa​, @consultingdoctorwholock​, @sparrowharkness​, @girlonfireice, @muse-oleum​, @bloodangelballerina​

#anardentflufftober #harry hart imagine #harry hart #harry hart x reader #kingsman #kingsman imagine #reader insert #x reader

[kayteewritessteve]

Beautifully Unfinished - 1/8

Description: One foolish outburst, one moment of weakness at the worst possible time, and everything goes up in smoke. Who knew finally voicing your true, deep-rooted feelings, would lead to the complete destruction of your most cherished friendship?

Masterlist HERE.

Word Count: 1,130 ish.

Pairing: Modern!Steve Rogers x Reader.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Swear words. Lots of angst. But if you’ve read my stories before, then you know how this will end.

A/N: I sadly don’t own any of these characters. And I have no beta reader either, so I do proudly own all the errors and this story, so there’s that.

A/N2: This mini series has been sitting in my drafts for months, and I think I’m finally ready to share it. It’s pretty much entirely written at this point, just have to finish up a few things, and it will be very angsty as it’s based off the Ella Henderson song Beautifully Unfinished. So anywho, I truly hope you enjoy this mini series! ❤️❤️❤️

The Present.

The Sunday summer shower pelts down against the living room window in front of you. The weather matching your eyes, your emotions and your life in this moment. The only sounds around you in the deafening silence of the room, is the tick tock of your wall clock and the rain tinging on the window.

Your heart is still pounding in your chest. Your lips still tingle from where his touched, the remnants of his kiss feeling like a bruise upon them now. You still feel like you can’t breath, but every time you are with him somehow you forget to breath, so that’s not a new feeling. Though this time, that feeling goes along with his touch, like his finger tips are tattooed upon your skin. The memory and feeling of his hands on you, replaying over and over in your mind. It had felt so natural, so normal, so right.

But it wasn’t. It was all in your head. Because this was it. This is what you asked for. This is how it would all end. Your life long friendship, your life long crush. Though it was always more than just a crush. He was your world, in every way imaginable. And that fact alone smothered you, nearly killed you.

How you could love someone this deeply, this intensely, and someone who never actually belonged to you, was crazy.

You felt like a rag doll, like a puppet, like you were always dancing on his strings. The stings that he controlled fully and entirely. Not in the sense that he did it on purpose, more in the sense of your own feelings. You’d do anything for him. When he called, you would go running. If he ever needed anything, you were there in a heartbeat, and with a smile on your face.

I mean, it wasn’t one sided, he did the same for you. Every time you ever needed him, he was there in minutes. He is—was your best friend. Your childhood crush. Your adulthood love. Though he never knew any of this. Not till tonight at least.

You had finally put it all out there. Yes, the timing was horrendous, but that seemed to be a character trait of yours. Poor as fuck timing. You always left everything to the last minute, and this wasn’t any different. Though maybe worse.

He’s getting married, and to the love of his life, in a week. Just 7 days until you lose any chance you’ve ever had at your one true love. At your happily ever after. At the life you’ve always dreamed about, the relationship you’ve always craved, and the man you’ve always wanted. The one all others are put up against, instantly, but never even come close.

But maybe you never actually had a chance to begin with.

You feel a tear slip from your lid and slide unchallenged down your cheek. Surprised you still have any tears left in you at all. You’d never cried this hard, or this much, in your life. You’d managed to hold it together until the door slammed shut behind him, and then you’d lost it. Truly and fully let it all out.

Your face is now slightly dry, as it had been a few hours since he left. A few hours since you placed a bomb in the middle of your friendship and then promptly hit the ignition switch.

You glance over your shoulder at your phone, still laying discarded on your couch. Where it had been forgotten in your efforts to destroy the one friendship that meant the very most to you, and then had been ignored during your breakdown, had been pointedly left there in your efforts to calm your quickly shattering heart.

But now you can’t pretend it isn’t there anymore. It’s jet black screen taunting you, mocking you. There is no change, no notifications, no incoming anything. But you knew he wasn’t going to love you back. He wasn’t going to change his mind. He wasn’t going to just magically start feeling the same way about you.

Just because you’d put it all out there, just because this is how you’d always felt about him, that didn’t change a damn thing. That didn’t instantly make you the one he’d want, the one he’d choose. He loved her. He always had and he always would. She was it for him. Entirely.

You numbly move towards the couch, picking up your phone and checking for anything. But there is nothing. No missed calls, no new texts. No nothing.

You stare down at it in your hands for a moment, your vision still slightly blurry from the tears. You stare at it until the screen goes back to black, just to click the unlock button so it lights it up once again, and instantly hate yourself for checking a second time for notifications. As if the first time you just hadn’t seen them. As if they had just been hiding originally, and now would be sitting there, waiting for your attention.

You come to the crippling realization that you’d had it right the first time. There was nothing, no missed calls, no texts. A loud sob escapes your lips as you chuck your phone across the room in a fit of anger, but probably more so in an outburst of immense heartache. Of paralyzing sorrow. Of embarrassment on a monstrous level. And of the body numbing emptiness you now feel consuming you.

In this moment, you hate him. But yet, you love him. Desperately. And even though you had wished he’d have gone away before you’d put it all out there. Before you’d opened up your soul to him. Once you had done that, and he’d then just left, all you’d wished for was that he’d have stayed. That he’d have picked you. Had chosen you in this, and in his life.

But he hadn’t. He’d picked her. Which you knew was going to happen. Deep, deep down you truly knew opening your mouth wasn’t going to end well. It wouldn’t accomplish anything aside from causing issues, aside from putting a riff between you and your best friend. The one and only person you truly can’t lose, because you will be entirely lost without him. The one person you can never win, no matter how much you try. How much you fight. How much you open up and put yourself out there. Put your heart on the line.

He will never be yours, and you will never be his. Because you can’t force someone to love you. You can’t push someone into being with another, especially one they don’t want to be with. But especially one they don’t love. He might be your first and only true love, but you aren’t his. And you never will be.

Because maybe all you’re meant to be is Beautifully Unfinished...

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

Whelp, there’s part 1. I’ll be posting a new part every day till this story is finished, so if you don’t want to be tagged on this series, just tell me. And if you want to be tagged, then I can do that as well!

@caps-lockdown @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @tfandtws @boxofteenageideas @wangdeasang @giggleberts @theonelittleone @agentbadbitch @ratwrites @starrystellars @bandsandanimefreak @rockyroadthepastryarchy @lovvliies @cuffski @icesoccerer @alwaysright4 @lilsthethrills @steeeeverogers @zombiepotterfour @mu-mu-rs @ledandan1244 @straightforwardly @denzmallows @xremember-me-notx @gwynethjodie @lollipopdomination @capstopavenger @jemimah-b99 @rcvenqers @justkending @alagalaska @silent-loucidity @sabertooth-potato @pies-wands-and-more @interstellarmess @gabriella69816 @phantom-soilder @wordlesscaptain @captain-hammer-of-asgard @viarogers @pixieferry @kaithezaftig @the-kinkiest-goblin @hysterically-original @badassbeckettswan @heyiamthatbitch @zlixlle @givemehopenfandoms @pretendingandpreposterous @frozen-phoenix17 @emotionallysalty @saturngirlz @atomicsludgedonutbiscuit @ivannagotthebeat @bohemian-barbie @marvelous-capsicle @ivoryhazlewood @steverogersxreader @cjhorseback @jasminecalia @secondstar2disney @jessiedaeum @betsynodak @capricornprince118 @just-ladyme @pinkleopardss @drayshadow @sister-of-stars @wiserebelpartypie @dark-night-sky-99 @patzammit @cs-please @troublermalik @bratstopmom @anika-ann

#au fanfiction #fanfiction #long post #long read #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #modern!steve rogers x reader #modern!steve rogers #modern!steve #modern au #angsty #with a happy ending #steve rogers au #Beautifully Unfinished #part 1 #mini series

[bigratsdeservebigpats]

Overblot Victims witnessing Yuu finally having enough of the overblots and stuff happening in the school that they basically scream into Crowley's face how sick and tired they are of seeing everyone, including themselves and the victims, suffer because of Crowley's irresponsibility.

These are so fun to write lol

It’s exhausting. 

Surely, if Yuu had magic, they would have overblotted themselves. It’s cruel to say they wish they could, that all their pain could be condensed into a single little rock and thrown into the ocean or the gaping maw of their cat, and all their troubles and worries would disappear. But they were the magicless prefect, and the Perfect Scapegoat. Because without that physical manifestation of anger and pain and suffering, they would never be heard. Because without consequences, actions wouldn’t matter. 

Like ink, these angers stain them. Like tar, they are dragged further by sticky, viscous threats. Like a black hole itself, they cannot escape, stretched impossibly thin where even their screams come out as a warbled, compliant, yes. 

Dorm meetings are incredibly, irrevocably important to the health of the students, as it is how the principle makes decisions that would best suit the student body, so it must be no wonder that everyone has suffered. For a man who’s very office gives him a view of the entire school, his mask must function more as a blindfold. 

For once, everyone is present for the dorm meetings. How this is possible? It’s because Yuu had to make sure everyone got their invites and arrived on time. The only one who physically and spiritually could NOT show, was Kalim, who was redoing an alchemy final he had failed. Therefore, Jamil would take his place. 

So all the dorms are here, even Malleus who they had to remind constantly, and Leona, who they physically had to drag. Everyone is here except one bastard. One bird brained, cackling motherfucker, who had decided that Yuu had enough time on their hands to deal with this VERY IMPORTANT FACTOR OF HIS OWN JOB.

They wouldn’t handle this treatment anymore. They couldn’t. There was already so much on their plate. They needed to keep their HOUSE from collapsing, they needed to reshape their entire perspective on what was possible to pass the most basic of tests, they needed to babysit a rampant, selfish … thing, they needed to worry about whether they would even have enough thaumarks to even eat, and now?

Even if ink does not flood the room, or fire does not singe the ground, the dorm leaders can feel the air thicken, the very atmosphere sinking over them with unparalleled pressure. No one can speak, let alone breathe as Yuu’s fingers drum the hollow surface of the desk. Their anger rolls off them in thick, misty waves, and when they finally stand, all eyes turn to them. “I’ll go fetch Dire Crowley myself then.”

“Prefect, I’m sure we can start without-” Azul is the first to jump in. This isn’t the first time he’s bartered with someone, so hopefully he can de-escalate the citation, but his words are instantly shot down. 

“I just wanna talk to em.” They grab a fountain pen off the desk, pricking their finger over the edge a few times. Malleus gulps. 

“W-Why do you have that pen.” Jamil is the one to jump up, he knows when someone is about to do something that may or may not have horrible consequences, but he is definitely not going to jump in the way of the steel nub. This was a different citation than trying to reason with Kalim. 

“I just wanna talk to em.” Yuu repeats, testing the swing of their pen before making a beeline to the door. Idia’s tablet flies out of the way with a squeal, but a few of the dorm members aren’t as cowardly. 

“This is ridiculous-” Leona starts, rubbing his temples at the sheer insanity of it all.

“I just wanna talk to em.”

“Put that pen away!” Riddle has dealt with annoyances and threats and all sorts of stresses, but this isn’t one of those hollow, tasteless messages. He could understand the feeling, but really, what were they gonna do with the pen against the head of NRC? He worried more about Yuu doing something stupid than anything. “What is- wh-what are you doing?”

“I just wanna talk to em.” The door slams with a deafening blow that rattles the very floor they stood. In the silence left behind, the dorm members share a knowing, worried glance before scurrying after like rats. 

-+-

The french doors that block off Crowleys office are ornate, drenched in a dreamy purple and highlighted with seven golden starlike symbols, the door handles meet together in three circles, oddly reminiscent of a certain mouse in their mirror. One of the more impressive parts had to be the door knocker, which was entirely unnecessary seeing as it led to a single, empty room.

Most people disregard it, but this time, Yuu disregarded knocking at all because he lost the respect and the dignity that basic humans deserved. 

Playing cards flew up like scattering crows, feet propped on the desk suddenly crossed neat and tidy on the ground. “Why if it isn’t the Prefect! I thought you would be hard at work collecting notes at the meeting!” 

His laughter fell on deaf ears, crossing the needlessly large space to the other side of his desk. “Get out of that seat. Stand up. Stand the fuck up.”

“Y-yes? Is something the matter? I’m a bit busy at the moment-!” Playing solitaire, that is. Brandishing the sharp nib of the fountain pen was enough to get him out of the way. He certainly didn’t expect the Prefect to sit down and prop their own feet on the desk. “And just what are you doing!”

“I’m the fucking principal now. Get out of my office you useless sack of shit and feathers.” The pen broke down on the desk, embedding itself in the center of the mahogany surface. Even if the poor table couldn’t scream, Crowley would do the honors. 

“That table is as old as the school! Crafted by the most talented of woodworkers! By the most grand and wise of trees!”

“Yea well now it’s my goddamn footrest. Are you deaf or just stupid? I’m the principal. Get out of my office. I’m gonna make this place as decrepit as the shitty ruins I live in.” Yuu leaned back, spinning in their seat to face the unkept image of the one and only, Dire Crowley. 

“And just who made you principal? This is a direct violation of-”

“I got rid of that rule, then. And it was voted on at the Dorm meeting.” They spun again, picking up one of the cards still on the table. The Joker. How fitting.

“That couldn't have-”

“And how would you know?” Eying the yellow divots in his mask, Yuu didn’t bother to let him speak. “You weren’t there. You don’t listen to your students. You don’t care about their health or their mental wellbeing. You talk as if you are the kindest ever, yet the Blots that are supposed to be rare, happen every month. Every single month, and you know why? It’s your negligence, and your lack of teaching and your shitty, greedy ideals. You are the denominator!”

“Yuu! Just what is the meaning of this behavior! I will not tolerate-” He leaned over the seat, so close that the edge of his crow mask threatened to gouge a part of their face out. 

“Tolerate? Oh, you wanna talk tolerating?!” They stood again, forcing the pen out from its upright position in the table to prod it against his chest, leaving black stains on his clothing. “Do you know what I have to deal with because of you?? Do you know what I lost and might never get back because of you?!? I can’t see my family anymore! I can’t see my friends anymore! They don’t even know if I’m okay or heck, even alive, and you in all your kindness, in all that slimy, filthy, fake gratuity, take advantage of it! You treat me like a servant, and then say that you are the one doing me a favor!”

The pen snaps, spilling ink down the front of his shirt. 

“If you really want this place to improve, then you’ll get the fuck out of here. But I know you won’t. I know that you won’t leave until it’s beneficial for you. So you know what? I’m gonna overblot. I’m gonna destroy everything until there’s nothing but crumbs for you to pick at, because that might be the only way you’ll ever learn.” They drop the pen, smearing the leaking ink off their hand with the leather of his fancy chair. He can take everything done today as collateral damage.

The door opens, and there stands several dorm leaders, who awkwardly back away to let Yuu pass. It’s obvious they’ve followed the Prefect from the beginning, and heard everything, but there wasn’t exactly a moment that could burst in, or needed to for that fact. 

Grim was right, Yuu goes for the jugular.

#RatWrites #twst wonderland #yuu #twst imagines #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #overblotters #overblot #riddle rosehearts #riddle #leona #leona kingscholar #azul #azul ashengrotto #jamil #jamil viper #vil shoenheit #vil #idia shroud #idia #malleus draconia #malleus

[ratdoeswriting]

merlin and the no good, very bad magical illness

Summary:  A mystery illness has swept through Camelot - or, more specifically, the sorcerers of Camelot. Arthur is at a loss, Morgana is angry, and Gwaine is, well, Gwaine is a nosy, stubborn bastard.

Pairings: Merlin/Arthur Leon/Morgana, Gwen/Lancelot, Gwaine/Percival

Warnings: descriptions of illness, brief mention of vomiting, sickfic, hurt/comfort

Word count: 4.8K

A/N: this is crossposted on AO3 and my main blog under the same title :) 

~~~

“Numero quinque in maledictionem et damnationem et mortem sibi.”

The woman threw a handful of powder into the flame, closely followed by a shredded list of names, causing the blood red flames to shoot upwards, lickng roughly at the roof of the cave.

“Are you ready, my Lady?” Her lady’s maid asked.

“Yes,” the woman smirked, “we must make haste if we are to reach Camelot in time.”

~~~

On Tuesday, at six am, Merlin had come bustling into Arthur's chambers, throwing open the curtains and slamming breakfast onto the table as usual - almost as usual, because today Arthur wasn’t blessed with Merlin’s mindless ramblings. He would never admit aloud that he likes listening to Merlin talk - not that he needed to, his knights reminded him enough - but that didn’t mean he found it any less comforting.

“Good morning to you too, Merlin.” He grumbled, pulling the duvet back over his head.

“Busy day today, Sire, you have a council meeting in an hour, the final test for the new knights before lunch, an address at midday, and we are receiving Lady Mithiana this evening.” Merlin said in lieu of responding and didn’t look up from the clothes he started to fold.

Of course, Arthur thought, the speech.

Everyday for the past two weeks, one person had fallen ill on the stroke of midnight, and was dead within twenty-four hours. Gaius had never seen anything like it - there seemed to be no link whatsoever between those who suffered: six farmers, four maids, one stable-boy, one stonemason, one carpenter, and one nobleman who had been visiting. They did not eat the same food or drink the same water - they had none of them even met - and yet, they shared the exact same symptoms.

The citizens of Camelot were understandably frightened, and Arthur had regularly been updating them, trying to keep spirits high, and it worked, for the most part. For some reason, the situation seemed to be hitting Merlin harder than anyone else.

Just as Merlin was about to return the dirty plates to the kitchen, the chamber door flew open and Leon came running in, terror etched into his face and lacing the words he spoke.

“My Lord, there’s been another. It’s La-” Leon cut himself off when he spotted Merlin, immediately turning his attention to the servant. “Merlin, you’re here. It’s Morgana. She’s been taken ill.”

Arthur could feel a shift in the atmosphere as Merlin tried to bury his own feelings. Almost a year ago, Morgana had revealed to Arthur that she had magic, and he had started to keep a closer eye on her - something he was now ashamed of, Morgana would never do anything to hurt him. In that time, though, Arthur had noticed how close Morgana and Merlin were, and a small, selfish, jealous part of him had suspected their relationship to be more than close friends, but Leon’s horribly obvious love-struck gazing had put an end to that. What Arthur didn’t know was that a few months before Morgana had revealed herself to Arthur, she had magically flipped over her dressing table and smashed the mirror in a fit of rage, and that night, Merlin had vowed to help her control her gift.

Merlin took a breath as he assessed the situation.

“Leon, find Gwen and bring her to Morgana’s chambers - have her bring water and a flannel.” He put the plates back on the table and turned to Arthur, “Arthur, you must attend the council meeting - I know you want to be with Morgana, but you will be of more use to her and to your kingdom if you continue with your duties. I will let you know if there is news.”

On any other day, Arthur would have protested and thrown his cup at Merlin for his insolence, but the wavering resolve in his eye stopped Arthur, and he just nodded. He didn’t need to make this any more difficult for Merlin than it already was - Arthur could hardly acknowledge what he would be willing to do if Merlin asked.

~~~

“How is she?” Leon asked from the doorway of Morgana’s chambers. He had a ribbon in his hand which he kept folding and twisting, and Merlin recognised it as the one Morgana had given him for luck the day after they confessed to each other, when Leon had ridden into battle.

“She has the first symptoms.” Merlin said, taking the cloth from Gwen and placing it on Morgana's brow. “Her fever’s not too high, but the rash has begun.” He lifted her arm and noticed the rash was spreading too - he didn’t mention this to Leon, no need to give more cause for concern.

It was only going to get worse, and there was nothing Merlin could do.

~~~

“My Lord, I believe I have found a link between all of those infected.” Gaius said tentatively from his seat at the round table. All heads turned to Arthur but he didn’t realise, his gaze fixed on some unseen point in the centre of the table.

“Arthur?” Lancelot said when he didn’t even acknowledge that Gaius had spoken.

“My apologies, please continue.”

Gaius pulled a rolled parchment from his robe. “Yes, I may have found what connects each of those who have died, but I fear you may not like it.”

“Finding a link means we can find a cause, yeah? So that’s a good thing.”

“Very well. Your father never told you, but he kept a list of those he suspected to be sorcerers. I hadn’t seen the thing for some five months, until I came across it last night and realized this: the people who have died are the first fourteen on the list, and they have died in that order.”

“Let me see it.”

Sure enough, the parchment contained a list and there, in black and white, was Morgana’s name.

~~~

“My Lady!” The maid hurried into the tent they had set up just outside of Camelot. “Your spell, my Lady, it has affected the Lady Morgana, she has fallen ill, you must-”

“Leave me. I must fix this.”

The woman turned to her altar, quickly scrawling a name on a scrap of parchment and throwing it into the fire.

“Elevatis a maledicto maledictum mouit alium maledictio super fuve Merlin illo mortem iurabant.”

Morgana must be spared, but in her place another must go, and who better than the serving boy the king seemed so enamoured with.

~~~

The rest of the day passed in a blur, and whilst Arthur still had his duties, he had to visit Morgana before Lady Mithiana arrived, even though he knew that her condition would only be deteriorating.

At midday, he approached Morgana’s door, and as he drew nearer he heard the rumble of Leon's laughter over layed by that of Gwen. How can they be laughing at a time such as this? He fumed, wrenching the door open.

“What on earth-”

Gwen was sitting on the edge of Morgana's bed, and Leon had finally ventured inside, which was surprising, but not as surprising as the fact that Morgana was now sitting up in her bed, smiling weakly at Arthur who stood dumbstruck in the doorway.

“Arthur, there’s a draft, please shut the door.” She said, her voice a little rough.

“I’ll fetch Merlin.” Gwen said as she ushered Leon from the room.

Morgana still looked sickly pale, her hair brokenly framing her face in a greasy halo, and there were still patches of the rash on her exposed skin, but she was awake, and that’s all that truly mattered.

“How is this possible? Merlin said that you had the sickness, we didn’t think you would-”

“Don’t,” Morgana reached for his hand and tugged until he sat beside her, “please, I’m okay now so you can stop worrying. Lady Mithiana is due to arrive soon, and you must be there to welcome her. Hopefully I will join you both for lunch tomorrow, but for now please send my regards.”

Before Arthur had a chance to respond, Merlin crashed into the room, the medicine bag falling off of his shoulder before he belatedly remembered himself and straightened into a half-bow and told Arthur that Lady Mithiana had arrived not five minutes ago.

When Merlin and Morgana were alone, Merlin began his examination, which ultimately concluded that yes, she was getting better, and no, he could not explain it.

“Is there something wrong with me?” It was the first thing Morgana had said to him since before she had fallen ill, and the almost child-like fear in her voice stopped Merlin packing up his things.

“Quite the opposite - you’re as healthy as a horse. Not that you are a- that’s a strange saying, isn’t it? Who decided that horses were the epitome of health? Why not pigs? Or dogs? Or-”

“No. I mean,” Morgana took a breath and looked away, “Is there something wrong with me because I have magic? Why did I get better but no one else did? We both know that at least half of the people who have died were sorcerers, and they didn’t get better! What makes me so special? What if I'm cursed, Merlin? What if I'm cursed and this is merely the calm before the storm?!”

Merlin took her hand in his - he had never seen her in such a state, well, not since the night he found out about her magic. “You are not cursed; I would know, I would be able to tell. I promise, I will get to the bottom of this. For now you must rest.”

Morgana only hummed vaguely in response.

~~~

Lady Mithiana was waiting in the throne room. She and Morgana had been friends since before Gorlois’ death, and had remained so after Morgana moved to Camelot. In recent years, though, she had visited less frequently, having grown apart from Morgana.

“Arthur! It has been so long, how have you been?” She exclaimed, voice high and grating, hands outstretched.

“I am well, Mithiana, and must say that you look radiant as ever.” He said, kissing her hand. “I’m afraid that the Lady Morgana has been taken ill, but hopes to join us again tomorrow.”

“Oh, how dreadful - I do hope that she recovers soon.” If Arthur didn’t know better, he would have said there was guilt in her voice.

By the time Arthur found himself back in his own chambers, it was nearly eleven, and he was so tired that he couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed that he had to undress himself. He wouldn’t have minded Merlin's company, but he had been under so much pressure lately that even Arthur had to concede that yes, Merlin did deserve a break.

~~~

Gwaine was a knight of Camelot, and he should not be getting into brawls in the tavern, especially not ones involving too many tankards of mead and very small, very sharp knives. In Gwaine’s defence, the bastard with the knife deserved a beating. Probably. Or maybe it was Gwaine that deserved it - he couldn't really remember much of the fight, only that he ended up with a deep gash on his arm that he couldn’t sew up himself because the room was spinning. Or maybe he was.

“Merlin.” Gwaine whispered loudly as the door to the physicians’ work room creaked open. It took him a moment to notice that it was just after midnight, which would explain the quiet of the room, but not the fact that Gaius was missing from his bed, and it certainly didn't explain the fact that he could still see candle light flickering behind Merlin's door.

“Merlin, are you still awake?” As Gwaine went closer to the door, he could hear a faint whimpering. Drunkenness and wound forgotten, he pushed the door open.

“Well. Shit.”

When Gwaine first met Merlin, he knew he had magic - it’s a wonder no one else knew because really, how can you plausibly explain an entire bench flying through the air? He never said anything, though, never even told Merlin that he knew, but maybe he should have. That morning, when Gaius had identified the link between the deaths, Gwaine had meant to find Merlin and tell him that he knew, tell Merlin that he was there, but Arthur had been in a bad mood and worked the knights until they could hardly stand.

Now, Gwaine regretted not sneaking away because there was Merlin, lying beneath the threadbare blanket, sweat dripping from his brow and shivers racking his body.

“I’m fine.” Merlin croaked, pulling the blanket tighter under his chin.

“And I’m the King of the castle. Merlin, stop trying to hide from me?” Gwaine pulled the blanket down so he could see his face. “ You have magic, don’t you?” Gwaine pushed Merlin’s hair back from his brow. A brief flicker of fear broke through the fever, but then Merlin leaned into the touch.

“Where’s Arthur?” Of course he wasn’t going to ask for Gaius, or Morgana, or someone who could help.

“You’re a bloody fool, Merlin. I’ll be back soon.”

On his way out, he saw that Gaius had yet to return, and he kept an eye out as he ran through the castle to the king's chambers - he would rather have gone looking for Gaius, but if the only person Merlin wanted was Arthur then he would deliver.

“Arthur!” He shouted, letting himself in and coming to stand next to the bed. “Arthur, it’s Merlin, he’s sick.” He shook Arthur's shoulders.

Arthur just rolled over and mumbled, “Why’re you in my dreams? Go away.”

Gwaine really didn’t have time for this, and he had half a mind to twat Arthur if only for his shite reflexes, but opted instead to tell the guard outside to fetch Gwen immediately, and send for George in the morning.

Waiting for Gwen - or Gaius, if he ever turned up - was torture, but Gwaine remained at Merlin’s side, trying to keep his temperature down as best he could. Never had the sound of heeled shoes been of such comfort to him.

Gaius returned in the early hours of the morning with a basket full of herbs which he immediately abandoned in favour of tending Merlin, despite the fact there was nothing they could do.

By the time the sun began creeping over the horizon, Gwen had worked herself into and out of a state more times than Gwaine could count - fussing about how she knew but never wanted to admit it, how she knew Lancelot knew and he hadn’t told her and oh lord is that a rash already?!

~~~

On Wednesday, Arthur woke just as the door to his chamber opened.

“I hope you’ve got me something decent this morning, Merlin, I don't know what you gave me yesterday, but I hope I never have it again.”

“You have a light breakfast this morning, Sire, and an early lunch with Lady Morgana and Lady Mithiana.”

That’s not Merlin. Arthur sat up and came face to face with George.

“Why are you here? Where’s Merlin?” He asked as he began to dress - he couldn’t deal with George today, especially not his brass jokes.

“I’m sorry, my Lord, I thought you had been informed - Merlin has been taken ill. I heard that he has the illness, do you think -”

“You’re dismissed.” Arthur called over his shoulder, already halfway out the door.

~~~

Merlin had started to show the third symptom a little before dawn - violent vomiting, which almost immediately turned into painful dry heaving because Merlin hadn’t eaten since lunch the day before.

That was when Arthur arrived.

“Why was I not informed that my manservant is ill.” He asked, stalking into the already crowded room.

“I did tell you, prick. You told me to go away.” Gwaine stood between Arthur and Merlin - subconsciously trying to protect Merlin, some part of him still remembering that Arthur didn’t know about Merlin's magic.

“I thought…” Arthur pushed Gwaine out of the way and came to sit by Merlin's bed, “I thought that was a dream. If I had known…”

They all sat in relative silence for a while, only the sound of Merlin dry heaving breaking the quiet until Arthur spoke again.

“This illness, Gaius, you said yesterday that it only affects those with magic?”

The words had such an effect that besides Gwaine squaring up, Merlin actually ceased vomiting as if he were waiting to hear what judgement would be passed, waiting to hear whether he would live or die.

They didn’t get to find out, though, because Morgana was now marching through them, rage and concern oozing from her every pore in equal measure.

“How is he?” she asked, and everyone pretended her voice didn't crack half way through.

Gaius responded, his words tight and even as if he was walking a tightrope of emotion and trying desperately not to fall off, “The symptoms are progressing as would be expected, my lady,” he bowed his head, “he won’t make it through the night.”

~~~

Morgana and Arthur still attended lunch with Lady Mithiana, and Arthur’s not sure he’s ever regretted anything so much in his entire life.

“My dearest Morgana, I am so glad that you are feeling better.”

There’s that guilt again.

“I heard about your manservant, Arthur, it’s simply dreadful! Oh, I can’t imagine how I would survive if my lady’s maid was ill - it’s almost impossible to find good help nowadays.”

Just the insinuation that Merlin was nothing more than ‘the help’ had Arthur physically biting his tongue and clenching his fists as Mithiana continued to speak.

“I heard yesterday that this illness was only inflicted upon those with magic.” She spat out the word as if it was the worst in the whole language, and Morgana couldn’t hide her flinch - not that Mithiana noticed. “Do you think that your manservant has magic, my Lord?”

He did, actually, and had for a while. He’s not sure when he first realised, perhaps it was after a particularly nasty run in with some bandits when one too many branches had fallen at a convenient time, one too many bandits had randomly dropped their swords and tripped over roots that Arthur is almost certain weren’t there a moment earlier. Despite his suspicions, he had never actually caught Merlin in the act, but he did start to notice more of the little things that actually went right - and the bigger things that made Arthur think that maybe, just maybe Merlin could somehow talk to dragons.

“The thing that confuses me is how does this illness know who does and doesn’t have magic?” Mithiana squawked smugly.

~~~

Morgana followed Arthur to his chambers after they had eaten, and, upon entry, they found Gwaine sitting at the table, spinning a knife back and forth though his fingers.

“Merlin’s hallucinating - only two new symptoms to go. Do you want to know what he’s seeing?”

Instead of answering, Arthur tipped Gwaine out of the chair and onto the floor.

“He keeps asking for you, Princess. He keeps asking if you hate him.”

“I do not-” Arthur shouted, slamming his fist on the table. “I do not hate him. He is my- he is Merlin and I cannot hate him.”

“We know, Arthur, but for now, do you remember what Mithiana said? She said ‘how does this illness know who does and doesn’t have magic?’.” Ever the rational one, Morgana took a seat at the head of the table.

“What are you suggesting? That a person is doing this?”

“Not a person,” Gwaine said from the floor, “a sorcerer.”

~~~

“Arthur? I’m sorry, please, I'm sorry. I would never hurt you, I promise, we would never - Morgana- '' Merlin mumbled, tossing about in his rickety old bed as Gwen tried desperately to dab the sweat and tears from his face.

“Gaius, he feels hotter.”

“Unfortunately it’s only going to get worse, my dear.”

“Oh god - he’s going to kill me. He’s going to kill me, I don't want him to kill - he can’t kill me, I can't die, I can't live if he’s not there.” In a brief moment of clarity, Merlin groped for Gwen's hand and held it tightly, looking pleadingly into her eyes.

“You can’t let him kill me.” Merlin turned to the side and began throwing up the little water he had managed to drink.

~~~

Arthur, Gwaine and Morgana spent the better part of the day trying to work out who wanted to kill the sorcerers in Camelot, but kept coming up empty.

“No one has been executed for magic since I became king, so it can’t be some twisted type of revenge and if it’s not revenge then there is no reason for this to be happening!”

“Forgive me in advance, but Lady Mithiana arrived the day Morgana recovered, and was here when Merlin fell ill, perhaps she…” Gwaine stopped suddenly, as if the daggers Arthur was glaring at him had cut through his vocal chords.

“I appreciate your honesty, Sir Gwaine,” Morgana said frostily, “but I would appreciate it more if next time, you kept it to yourself.”

Gwaine, of course, was an idiot, and Percival could resist everyone except Gwaine, which is how they found themselves in the guest room currently occupied by Lady Mithiana.

“Gwaine, we shouldn’t be here.”

“You, Percy, are the one who actually broke in here, technically I just followed.” Gwaine said, throwing a wink over his shoulder along with some clothes out of Lady Mithiana’s case.

Percival stubbornly unfolded his arms and began to look through her vanity, “I only did it because you promised me blowjobs for the rest of the week.” He threw a hairbrush at Gwaine. “I’ll be holding you to that, even if we’re in the dungeons.”

“Kinky.”

“Shut up. There's nothing here anyway, we should really go.” Percy said, all but dragging Gwaine from the room.

~~~

When Arthur went to visit Merlin, only Gaius was there, and he tactfully excused himself. Arthur didn’t want to think about the implications of that, he didn’t want to think about the fact that Gaius was giving them some time alone as if it was the last chance Arthur had to say whatever it was that he needed to say. Maybe he would have felt better if he knew what he actually needed to say.

As it happens, Merlin was the first to speak.

“Gwen, you have to promise that Morgana will be safe. Arthur doesn’t know she has magic but she is good and kind and you have to save her.” He whispered and it took Arthur a second to realise that Merlin was still hallucinating.

“I know that she has magic,” Arthur picked up the cloth, gently trying to cool Merlin down, “she told me last year, remember?”

“But what about me, Gwen? I don’t want him to kill me.” Arthur’s almost certain that Merlin would have cried if he hadn’t started dry heaving again - no, not dry heaving, that’s blood.

“Gaius!”

It was another half hour before Merlin had calmed down enough to hear Arthur say in a voice almost as delicate as his thumb on Merlin’s cheek, “I could never harm you, Merlin, you mean too much to me.”

~~~

Gwaine still had not given up on his theory about Lady Mithiana and so had enlisted Lancelot to help him that night. They waited behind a pillar outside her chambers until, an hour before midnight, her door creaked open and she disappeared down the hallway, her cloak brushing the ground as she walked. The only other sound was the knights’ near silent footfalls as they crept after her.

~~~

Meanwhile, Merlin's tiny room was more full than it was built to be - Gaius, Arthur and Gwen sat dutifully by his bedside, and they were surrounded by Morgana and all of the knights, bar Gwaine and Lancelot.

Merlin looked even worse now: a combination of the fever, rash, vomiting, hallucinations and blood each hitting in full force.

“Gwaine and Lancelot should be here.” Arthur said, almost to himself. “Percival, you two are attached at the hip, where is he?”

“I- He told you what he thought of Lady Mithiana? He didn’t give up on that and he’s taken Lancelot to - I don't know, investigate?”

Artur nodded, brushing his fingers through Merlin’s hair in such a delicate gesture that he must have forgotten that they weren’t alone.

~~~

Lady Mithiana had waked a little ways into the forest, to a clearing by the river, guided along a path illuminated with a glowing orb that floated above her outstretched hand, until she reached a tent.

“Magic! I fucking knew it.” Gwaine hissed. Lancelot punched him in the arm.

“She must have some sort of altar in there and that's the source of the spell.”

“Alright, so we just have to destroy the altar before she either kills Merlin or kills us. That should be easy.”

~~~

The night was almost over - there were maybe five minutes until midnight and Arthur's not quite sure that he was ready to say goodbye.

Maybe if he didn’t, Merlin wouldn’t leave.

“Arthur. Where’s Arthur?” Merlin’s voice was a jagged whisper, each word clawing its way out on bloody hands and knees.

Arthur still hadn’t moved his hand from Merlin’s hair, “Hush, Merlin, you must rest.”

“No I- Arthur you have to listen.” His eyes were wide, and he grabbed onto Arthur’s wrist, “You are the once and future king, and one day you will unite the land of Albion. I have-” He paused, heaving, “I have brought you as far as I can, you must carry on without me and fulfil your destiny.”

Arthur was still reeling from the weight of the words when he felt Merlin's fingers go slack around his wrist.

It was so quiet that he’s almost sure the room heard his heart drop at the realization that Merlin was actually gone, and for good this time. And Arthur couldn't even save him like he had before when Merlin had taken the poison, or thrown himself in front of the dorocha to save Arthur. It was always Merlin saving him and he had never even said thank you.

The loud gasp that sounded a few minutes later didn’t stir Arthur from his brooding - he assumed it was Morgana, unable to hold in her tears, or Gwaine arriving to find his friend dead - but then the hand that was still loosely wrapped around his wrist twitched and then moved until it was holding his hand.

“Wonders never cease. I knew you were stubborn, Merlin, but cheating death? That’s impressive, even for you.” Arthur teased, trying desperately not to cry, squeezing Merlin’s hand as if he thought he would drift away.

~~~

Over the sound of their heaving breaths and pounding feet, Gwaine and Lancelot could hardly hear the burning tent or the screams of Mithiana melting into it.

Looking back, it may have gone a little smoother had Lancelot been allowed to make a plan, but Gwaine was full of righteous indignation and would hear none of it, so, when Lady Mithiana stepped outside the tent again, the two knights slipped past her, Lancelot waiting by the flap and Gwaine heading straight for the altar.

He was just about to flip the table when Lady Mithiana returned and stopped in the centre of the tent.

“I suppose I should have expected someone to find out. I certainly should have expected it would be you, Sir Gwaine. You and your lumbering friend aren’t nearly as stealthy as you think you are.”

“Why are you doing this? Why would a sorcerer, a powerful one at that, be killing her own?”

“King Arthur has always been good to me, and we used to speak of ruling over Camelot together. He has put his life at risk time and time again for the likes of that serving boy, for the likes of you, and if he’s dead, how would I rule alongside him?”

Gwaine shifted, his hand coming to rest on his sword, “That doesn't explain why you have brutally murdered fourteen people.”

“You and your band of misfits have wormed your way into the king's inner circle, and I don’t trust you - who knows what you are planning! I just want to protect the king.” Mithiana screeched.

“You’re off your fucking rocker.” Gwaine said, eyes flicking briefly to Lancelot who had yet to move.

“No, I just want to protect the king, I want to rule alongside him, and to do that I must first eliminate all threats to my power, and you have just moved yourself to the top of that list.” Her eyes began to glow and Gwaine realised that he had seen Merlin's do the same. Shit.

“Asphyx-”

Before she could finish the spell, Lancelot smashed her on the head with the hilt of the sword.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah, lets just destroy this altar and we can go.”

~~~

When they finally reached Merlin’s chambers nearly ten minutes later, they almost burst straight in but the sound of hushed conversation halted them in their tracks.

“... really have believed I would hurt you?”

“I wasn’t sure, but I hoped you wouldn’t. It’s taken me years to get you to stop being such a prat - I’m good but not a miracle worker.”

“Merlin.”

#merlin bbc #merthur #leon/morgana #gwen/lancelot #gwaine/percival #sickfic #hurt/comfort #arthur knows about morganas magic #ratwrites

[ratwrites]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: CC-3636 | Wolffe/Original Character(s), CC-3636 | Wolffe/Reader, CC-3636 | Wolffe/You Characters: CC-3636 | Wolffe, Boost (Star Wars), Comet (Star Wars), Sinker (Star Wars), Anakin Skywalker, CT-7567 | Rex Additional Tags: Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex, Blow Jobs Summary:

When a struggling Jedi gets angry she takes it out on her Commander.

#star wars #star wars the clone wars #clone wars #tcw #commander wolffe #commander wolffe x reader #Wolffe smut #Commander wolffe smut #cc 3636

[winchesterbrotherstan]

MCU: Logan Barnes-Stark- January 25, 1992

Pairing: Alex Danvers (OC) x Logan Barnes-Stark(OC)

Summary: Logan and Alex have been working tirelessly for a month, so their boss gives them the weekend off

Warnings: some crying, mentions of assassination again, that's literally it this is just half-assed fluff filler

Word Count: 619

“You coming?” Alex’s hand landed on my shoulder.

I looked up from my computer and at him. “Not done yet.”

Alex sighed and pushed himself up to sit on my desk. “Almost done?”

I shook my head. “Not even close. Still trying to figure out how many treatments the perp stole.” I sighed.

It had only taken me three days until I suspected Hydra. Howard had been on his way to a SHIELD base to rid himself of the super-serum he had left. Hydra had stopped him, killed him, and taken the serum. We had it down to a rough estimate of fifteen treatments.

“Can’t we figure it out tomorrow?” Alex tried to catch my eye.

I ignored him, knowing what he was trying to do. I was no empath, but in the month we had known each other, Alex had a hold on me that I couldn’t manage to shake. He was trying to get me to feel guilty.

“Alex. Howard took me in when I had nobody else. I owe this to him.” I ran my hands over my face.

He grabbed my shoulder and squeezed.

“Lo. Howard wouldn’t expect you to solve this in just a month. This was Hydra. High profile assassination.”

I pulled my shoulder away as my eyes began to burn.

Assassination. It was such a crude word. I couldn’t stomach it. Howard had been assassinated. The man who took care of me when I had nobody left, the man who made me who I was today. He had been killed and left there, like he was nothing more than trash.

“I’m sorry, Logan. I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine.” I ran a hand over my face.

“Let’s go home.” He held his hand out for mine.

I sighed and shut my computer off, pulling on my jacket. I took his hand and he wrapped an arm around me as we walked through the practically empty office. The director was the only one left, and we had to pass right across his front door.

“Heading home?” Keller spoke up from his office room.

I peeked my head in through the door and nodded. “Yeah, Alex wants to go.”

Keller nodded. “Both of you, come here.”

Alex stiffened next to me and I sighed. As happy as Alex made me, I still just wanted to be put back under. I looked up at Keller as Alex stood behind me.

“Neither of you come in tomorrow. Stay home. Relax. Take a break.”

“Keller.” I looked up at him.

“Take a break. You’re overworking yourself, you’ll fry your brain.”

“Sir, I’ve almost got it-”

“He’s right, Lo.” Alex grabbed my shoulders.

I sighed. “Sir. Howard was a father to me. I’m not letting this go.”

“I’m not asking you to. I am telling you to take a day off. And if I can’t hold it to you, he will.” He pointed to Alex.

I looked at the tall science geek over my shoulder. Alex rubbed my shoulder, pulling me against him.

“Call us if there’s an emergency.” He spoke to Keller.

Keller nodded, then pointed to his door. “Now go home. You two make me sick.”

Alex laughed and I snorted, letting him lead me out of the office and to the elevator. I sighed as he hit the button for the parking garage. Alex grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me into his chest, hugging me tightly.

“It’ll be alright.” He whispered.

I wrapped my arms around him, pushing my head against him as I bit back tears.

“I just still can’t believe he’s gone.” I mumbled.

“I know, honey.” He kissed the top of my head. “But we’ll figure it out. I promise.”

Previous: December 17, 1991

Next: March 29, 1993

#mcu #mcu fandom #mcu fic #mcu oc #mcu shield #oc x oc #marvel #marvel fandom #marvel fic #marvel oc #marvel ocs #marvels shield #marvel oc x marvel oc #howard stark x kid!oc #logan barnes #logan stark #logan barnes stark #apollowrites #junowrites #ratwrites

[ardentmuse]

Hello love!!!! I'm so excited for this celebration and all the fics top come out of it. Could I get 16 and 48 with my love, Eggsy? I feel like his hugs would feel really safe and comforting,,,not like I've thought about it when ive had a bad day or anything. Definitely not... okay I definitely have. A lot. I just love him a lot. ANYWAYS Congratulations and I hope you and the family are all doing well ❤❤❤

Gawain and the Galahads

Kingsman - Eggsy x Hart!Reader

16. Ugh, of course your hugs are amazing.48. I’m going to hug you because I love you. And because you feel just as alone as I do.

Wordcount: 1.6k 

Warnings: talk of death, talk of depression and grief

Masterlist

A/N: He’s got the perfect build to give good hugs too. Something about the arms to shoulders proportions. You’d just be engulfed and have just the right amount of space to make his shoulder a pillow. I like this image. ☺ Also hi! We’re doing great and I hope you are, too! I am making my own gifs for these so they all fit with the stories. I hope you enjoy them!

Fourteen months had passed since you watched the image from your father’s glasses turn black. Fourteen months since the silence filled the room, the air between you and Merlin so thick with unspoken anguish that it practically pushed you out the door. You didn’t have a conscious thought the entire time you wandered the streets of London, when you snapped your glasses into as many pieces as you fingers could manage and tossed them in the Thames, the length of your journey across the ocean to the United States, the two months you spent painstakingly tracking down every lead on the ground in Kentucky, or the year you spent wandering the vastness of the American west trying to piece together the parts of yourself that died along with Harry Hart.

No, you hadn’t really had a conscious thought in all that time until this moment; here, in a bar in Santa Fe in the early afternoon, with Eggsy – the only man you ventured you ever loved more than your father – standing before you in the suit and tie of a true Kingsman, the cloud of your brain lifted for the first time and somehow the only thing you realized you’d been missing out on was pain.

“Nice suit,” you said over your drink, not bearing to look into those soft eyes, ones that might call you out on how you simply ran away – a coward in a world full of heroes.

“And nice glasses,” you added with a swirl of your straw. “Hey, Merlin.”

The bar was mostly empty, but Eggsy’s eyes still shifted around carefully in concern at your casual tone. You remembered when your gaze was trained for such things. But that you seemed so far away.

“Do you know how long I’ve been searchin’ for ya?”

“Given Kingsman resources, I’d say… um, three hours?” you asked as you lifted an eyebrow in teasing question. His nose flaired at you, like he didn’t expect your snark to still be so directed at him after all your time apart. But he liked it. The smile he was clearly trying to hide was his dead giveaway.

“What? Three and a half?”

Eggsy spit out a laugh. He paused. But now with the floodgates open, he laughed full and earnest, moving himself to lean on the bar beside you.

“About three days,” Eggsy confirmed. “Though I searched for weeks on my own before Merlin made me stop. He said you’d had left a trace if you had wanted me to find you. That I should respect your wishes.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. You didn’t know if it was true, but it felt nice to think someone, especially Eggsy, cared enough to look.

You took a big swig of your drink to try to shove down the butterflies threatening to rise at the thought of Eggsy’s care and now his close proximity.

“So what happened three days ago?” you asked, realizing there had to be a reason Eggsy was here, disrupting your grieving. “Did Arthur lose his favorite umbrella? Or perhaps Roxy couldn’t –“

“We found your dad.”

Eggsy’s hand upon your arm had paused your rambling. His eyes locked on yours in a way that was so serious, so sincere, that you realized he had been hurting just the same as you. He knew your defenses. The weeks he had spent training beside you, and the whirlwind romance that had come along with it, were enough for him to realize you were two peas in a pod. He hid his emotions behind charm, flirtation, and occasionally anger and you behind snark, levity, and just a hint of pragmatism. But this Eggsy, this Eggsy was seeing you, seeing the raw, unrepaired part of your soul and matching it with his own – no sweet pet names, no winks, no grazes of his hand down your side. This was Eggsy, a person – vulnerable, real and scared – begging you to show yourself.

You felt the tears prickling at your eyes but swallowed them away.

“If this is a weird way of requesting my attendance at a funeral, I don’t think—“

“He’s alive,” Eggsy said as he moved his hand up to your wrist, holding you in place. “Harry’s alive, Gawain, and—“

“Don’t call me that!” you practically screamed, ripping your arm from his grip and almost falling off the barstool. You were standing now, backing away from the man in front of you with careful pacing. All the sadness that had been building in you caught fire, rage consuming you internally, burning at your throat. “How dare you come here and tell me lies, Eggsy! What sort of sick trick is this?”

Eggsy was charging you before you could put up your defenses. A year out of the field meant Eggsy could overpower you instantly. You expected to be tackled, maybe a tranquilizer dart pushed into your neck – after all, Eggsy was clearly the enemy now – but that wasn’t what happened.

He flicked his glasses off his face, moved swiftly around your shoulder and, from behind, slid them down your forehead and upon your nose. The familiar weight upon your ears felt nice somehow and the graining pixels across your vision comforting.

You had expected stats on the side, some notes from Merlin or a couple of Eggsy’s vitals but the thing that took up your entire vision was a live feed of some sort, a simple room with a cot for a bed and a sink along the edge, like a cage more than a suite. But upon the bed, with a sketchpad on his lap like you remembered for when you were a kid, sat your dad, his brown hair a muss and his left eye donning an eye patch.

But it was dad. It was most certainly dad.

No words left your mouth. Tears just began rolling down your face at the sight of him moving, safe, existing somewhere in the world. You weren’t a lone Hart in the world any longer.

You felt Eggsy’s hands come around your shoulders and you ripped yourself away. These emotions, they were all too much at once, and Eggsy was simply overwhelming. You only then, as Eggsy slowly blocked the view, realized that the few other patrons were staring.

“I’m going to hug you, Y/N,” Eggsy said slowly, his hands up like approaching an animal. “I’m going to hug you because I love you. And because you feel just as alone as I do.”

And when you didn’t protest, Eggsy’s arms scooped you up against his chest, curling his strong forearms around your shoulders and pulling your head flush against the crock of his neck. The hug was tight and warm, soft and strong all at once, and in that moment you realized it had been fourteen months since another human had truly touched you.

“But we aren’t alone, love. We have each other. We always have. And now we have Harry. And, sweetheart, he needs you. More than you know.”

Eggsy’s hands ran the length of your back, soft circles into your spine and soon you were melting against you, your tears coming out in earnest now that you finally felt safe. You almost didn’t want to close your eyes and lose the sight of your father but you had to. You had to let yourself into this moment, to reconnect with Eggsy, a man who loved you still despite your fleeing, a man whose touch was home when you had only known wandering.

As you sniffled a little against the soft cotton of his jacket, you felt your spirit returning to your limbs. You were shedding the zombie that was your flesh all this long year, all thanks to Eggsy’s perfect embrace.

“Ugh, of course your hugs are amazing,” you whispered into his neck, not willing yourself to let go.

Eggsy just laughed against your scalp.

“And there’s my Gawain back,” he said with a quick kiss to the skin already pressed against his lips.

His words hit your brain weird. You were once Gawain but were you still? Could you simply put back on the clothes and simply be that person once again? You were rusty but you were you, and you had Eggsy to guide you every step of the way.

With renewed resolve, you pulled yourself away from his shoulder. You straightened your spine and you shoulders, trying the ‘gentleman’ in you out once more. You were stiff but in some ways it felt like riding a bicycle, all coming back just by committing to get on.

“Whatever Galahad needs, I’ll do it.”

Something like tears shined in Eggsy’s eyes and you couldn’t tell if it was pride or joy. He grabbed your hand, interlocking your fingers in a gesture that felt right, even after so long apart.

“That Galahad,” Eggsy said with a nod to his glasses still on your face, “and this Galahad,” he added as he stepped closer to you, toe to toe, and began to run the backs of his fingers, down the side of your cheek, “both need you.”

All tags: @fangirlandnerd, @aerdnandreaa, @thisisbullshytt,  @cancerousjojian, @whovianayesha, @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy, @luna-xxxxx, @sleepylunarwolf, @starryrevelations, @potter-thinking, @all-by-myself98, @bananafosters-and-books, @cutie-bug

Kingsman tags: @allonsymexgirl, @eiensteiner, @thecaptainsgingersnap, @madamcadaver. @doct0rstrange, @ratwrites

#ardentmuse almost 2k celebration #kingsman imagine #eggsy x reader #eggsy unwin x reader #eggsy imagine #eggsy unwin imagine #kingsman #kingsman x reader #eggsy #eggsy unwin #reader insert #x reader #cucumberinmyass #lia talks

[kayteewritessteve]

Beautifully Unfinished - 2/8

Description: One foolish outburst, one moment of weakness at the worst possible time, and everything goes up in smoke. Who knew finally voicing your true, deep-rooted feelings, would lead to the complete destruction of your most cherished friendship?

Masterlist HERE.

Word Count: 1,660 ish.

Pairing: Modern!Steve Rogers x Reader.

Rating: PG.

Warnings: Curse words. Lots of angst. But if you’ve read my stories before, then you know how this will end.

A/N: I sadly don’t own any of these characters. And no beta reader, so I do proudly own all the errors and this story, so there’s that.

Elementary School.

Your hands slide along the muddy ground, digging in as your weight is abruptly shifted onto them. You have only been in this school for a week, and already you’ve obviously made some enemies.

But you are the new kid, so that isn’t really a shocking revelation. Kids can just be so stinking mean.

You had to move at the end of grade 6, and started in this new school for the beginning of grade 7. Your father had gotten a promotion, and along with it came you all having to be relocated to the city. To Brooklyn.

So here you are, your blue jeans now covered in mud and your hands scraped up from the small rocks and gravel hidden just under the grassy surface. What you’ve done to piss this kid off is beyond you. He clearly has a few issues. That much you are sure of.

“Get up, loser,” he taunts, causing you to struggle to get your bearings back. To come to terms with the fact that this is your new life now. This is the school you’ll live out the next, and final, two years of your childhood days in. Then you’ll head off to High School, which probably won’t be any better. What with your clearly horrible luck.

You’d just been minding your own business a few moments ago, sitting under a tree and reading a book. Avoiding all the other kids as you didn’t know anyone here, and you have always been shy. At least in your old school, you had friends you’d known since kindergarten. A few kids who had befriended you and then stuck with you over the years.

But here, you are entirely on your own. You have no one.

“Did you not hear me!” He yells, causing you to flinch at the tone, his friends noticing this and laughing at you for it. You take a deep breath, before shakily pushing back up onto your feet. Glancing down to see your clothes are now ruined, knowing instantly that your mother is going to be livid at you for dirtying your new school clothes.

You could tell her that you’d been pushed down by a bully, but then she’d go to your teacher demanding the kids be punished. And even in your young mind, you know that would only make things worse. So you’ll just claim you’d slipped on the playground and landed in a puddle.

“Why are you doing this?” You quietly ask, just needing to know what you’d done to deserve this torment and mistreatment.

He scoffs at you, as if you're the idiot, “you’re the new kid,” he says in a ‘duh’ tone. “And you were in our lunch spot,” he adds a few seconds later.

“You could have just told me, and I would have moved to someplace else. You didn’t have to push me,” you reply, your voice a little stronger this time, thanks to the anger over his ridiculous reasonings for bullying you.

“Where’s the fun in that?” He asks as he goes to push you down again.

Just as your butt lands with a plop on the ground, now dirtying your backside to match the front of you, a voice calls out. “Hey! Leave her alone!”

Tears prickle in your eyes, as you glance up and around to see who is sticking up for you. To see who has come to your rescue. And once they land on the little form running towards you, you gasp. He is so small, maybe even a little smaller than you, but he is beautiful.

All flowing blonde hair and deep blue eyes, both features shining brightly in the little sunshine that peaks through the clouds. Maybe it is just because he is your only saviour at the moment, or because you genuinely have never seen a more charming looking kid in your life. But either way, you can’t take your eyes off him as he moves hastily towards you. Fluidly putting himself between you and the small grouping of bullies.

He moves as if he is entirely used to his small size, like he is aware his body is little but the sheer size of his heart makes him large. Makes him fearless, and therefore he doesn’t hesitate, he doesn’t falter but instead moves with such grace and pose he appears to be almost floating.

It’s in this moment you finally notice he has both his hands up, forming fists in front of him, as if ready to take on the world. And maybe he is, maybe he thinks he truly can.

A few minutes—and punches—later, he sits muddy and battered beside you. They’d been much harsher to him then they had been to you, he’d taken it all like it was just a few gusts of wind. It hadn’t been till a larger kid had come running from the school, and stepped in to defend you both, that the bullies had finally moved on.

And the second they are gone, the larger kid turns around to glare down at your saviour. “What were you even thinking, Punk? Taking on 6 kids by yourself! You’re lucky you only have muddy clothes and a fat lip right now! It could have been so much worse!”

You glance to the side, hesitantly looking at your hero and seeing him glaring right back at the only person currently clean and standing at the moment. “They were bullying a girl, Buck! I wasn’t just going to stand back and let them!”

The larger kids eyes snap to you, as if just now realizing you are present. That you are sitting in the mud beside his friend. He gives you a little once over then sighs as his eyes drift back to the blonde, “you should have come and got me first. You never think before you act,” he holds a hand out for his friend, helping him up.

“There wasn’t any time to think it through,” the blonde defends, as the larger kid then holds his hand out to you. You stare at it for a moment before hesitantly taking it, and allowing him to pull you up to your shaky legs.

“You are just so reckless sometimes,” the larger one says, sounding both exasperated and amused. Which is a weird combo for sure.

“I don’t like bullies, Buck. You know this,” the smaller one adamantly replies, causing the other to chuckle quietly.

“Yeah, I do,” he mumbles in agreement. “But still doesn’t mean you should stupidly throw yourself into every fight, alone.”

As they continue to argue back and forth, you glance down at your ruined clothes. Quickly wiping your hands along your jeans in an attempt to get some of the mud off. It’s a pointless endeavour though, as your hands are also covered in dirt and only stand to smear it around more thoroughly. Great.

“Are you okay?” A gentle voice hits your ears and you snap your eyes up, seeing the blonde now standing directly in front of you. Your breath halts slightly at how close he is all of a sudden, at the perfect view you now have of his face. You hadn’t really gotten a chance to see him up close yet, as he’d come out of nowhere, then had his back to you as he confronted your bullies, then he was beside you and you’d been too nervous to really look at him. To truly take him in.

And now that you can, and have, you are speechless.

Now not having any confidence to speak, you just nod your head in answer to his question. He gives you a small once over, clearly checking for any injuries then his lovely eyes meet yours. “Are you hurt anywhere?” And this time you shake your head in answer, he looks unconvinced for a second before seeming to see the honesty in your eyes and nodding. Then one of his muddy hands gestures to himself, “I’m Steve,” before gesturing to the larger brunette behind him, “that’s Bucky. What’s your name?”

You nod then quietly answer, “Y/N.” Your eyes then glance over his tiny form, “are you okay?”

When your eyes finally land back on his face, he has a small smile on his lips, “I’m fine. Nothing I haven’t been through before,” he chuckles, his smile growing wider, “this was actually tame in comparison to my past scuffles.” And instantly you can hear the pride in his voice, he is proud of getting into ‘scuffles’, as he called them. He is proud of standing up to the bullies.

The larger one—Bucky as you’ve just been told, sighs loudly and shakes his head, “don’t sound so damn pleased about that fact, Punk.”

He glances over his shoulder at his friend, the cheekiness now in his voice loud and clear, “but I am pleased about it, Jerk.”

Bucky glares at Steve, though judging by the smirk he can’t contain currently on his lips, it’s playfully. Steve then turns back to you, “do you want to join us for lunch?”

Your eyes widen slightly, before you quickly correct it and nod eagerly, “oh, um, yes. Please.”

He gives you a glorious smile and then the three of you head towards the cafeteria.

And unbeknownst to you, this is such an important moment in your life. This is the day you meet the two guys who’ll become your lifelong best friends. This is the day you first feel the beginning tingles of your quickly forming crush and love for Steve.

From the very first day, when he’d come gracefully running to your rescue, you’d felt it. You’d known he was going to play some huge role in your life instantly. And you’ll be entirely right in that thought. He’ll become your best friend, your rock, your world, your one true love. Truly and fully.

Because he’s got you like a rag doll, and now you’re dancing on his strings.

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

@caps-lockdown @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @tfandtws @boxofteenageideas @wangdeasang @giggleberts @strawberry-gothchild @theonelittleone @agentbadbitch @ratwrites @starrystellars @bandsandanimefreak @rockyroadthepastryarchy @lovvliies @cuffski @icesoccerer @alwaysright4 @lilsthethrills @steeeeverogers @zombiepotterfour @mu-mu-rs @ledandan1244 @straightforwardly @denzmallows @xremember-me-notx @gwynethjodie @lollipopdomination @capstopavenger @jemimah-b99 @rcvenqers @justkending @alagalaska @silent-loucidity @sabertooth-potato @pies-wands-and-more @interstellarmess @gabriella69816 @phantom-soilder @wordlesscaptain @captain-hammer-of-asgard @starstucknature @viarogers @pixieferry @kaithezaftig @the-kinkiest-goblin @hysterically-original @badassbeckettswan @heyiamthatbitch @zlixlle @capsicledoll @givemehopenfandoms @pretendingandpreposterous @frozen-phoenix17 @emotionallysalty @saturngirlz @atomicsludgedonutbiscuit @ivannagotthebeat @bohemian-barbie @marvelous-capsicle @ivoryhazlewood @steverogersxreader @cjhorseback @jasminecalia @secondstar2disney @jessiedaeum @betsynodak @capricornprince118 @just-ladyme @pinkleopardss @drayshadow @sister-of-stars @wiserebelpartypie @dark-night-sky-99 @patzammit @cs-please @troublermalik @bratstopmom @anika-ann

#au fanfiction #fanfiction #long post #long read #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #modern!steve rogers x reader #modern!steve rogers #modern!steve #modern au #steve rogers au #Beautifully Unfinished #Part 2 #angst

[bigratsdeservebigpats]

Overblot victims (and Malleus) reacting to Yuu patting their heads when they look stressed after the incidents (and for Mal, after Chapter 6 the night Idia and Ortho come over to play games)

MY FIRST ASK OMG THANK YOU RANDOM CITIZEN

Lmao I haven't played part 6 yet I am a disgusting lowly eng player but I can do them getting headpats

Victim #1 - Riddle

He's disgusted at himself and his actions. Who wouldn't be after reacting in such an uncouth matter? His dorm members still keep their distance, eggshells more like glass shards as they tiptoe around him.

Yuu finds them after a throwaway comment from Adeuce about their dorm leader looking even wearier than usual

He's holed up in one of the study rooms, the floor is adorned with books and sticky notes, study materials repeated over and over, it's less of studying than a distraction, not that it's working.

He doesn't notice Yuu is there until he feels the gentle weight of a hand on his head, and the warmth it gives. Something tells him it's Yuu, and something else tells him that it's okay.

He cries there, without a single word exchanged between the two.

When times are hard, or when Adeuce is being especially awful to handle, he'll come over just for some quiet time, to get his head pat

Victim #2 - Leona

Leona is someone who hates being indebted to anyone, and he now owes his life to a bunch of meddling kids, and Yuu, some magicless nobody. It's embarrassing, not just for him but also his actions. Like a child who threw a tantrum.

I wanna say that Ruggie sent Yuu to talk to him. not for any reason in particular, other than the fact that Yuu is really helpful to others.

He's at the spelldrive practice, lazing off per usual, but this time while glaring at everyone. He shouldn't be mad at them, but it's sort of an automatic response.

He notices Yuu, but didn't expect them to approach, less to reach over and. pat. him. it's humiliating, especially in front of the crowd, but the sheer balls of their actions is the only thing keeping Yuu from disintegrating into a pile of sand.

"What in the land of the great seven do you think you are doing, herbivore."

"sharing good vibes."

If Yuu runs their fingers through his hair, he'll melt. if anyone asks, he hates it. if no one is there, he might mimic the action, and then curse himself when he realizes it.

Victim #3 - Azul

It's easy for Azul to hide behind the guise of work, to distract himself with ideas of promotions and menu additions and money-making schemes of the legal sort, but the usual chaotic grin wouldn't show when he was huddled over his desk.

Yuu doesn't have the money to get one of his little consultations, but that's okay, because the twins have decided they didn't want to deal with his BULLSHIT cruel increase in hours

Even buried in work, everything is organized and tidy, so much so that it doesn't look any different from the last few times Yuu snuck in, which is insane. If the twins hadn't noticed anything, they doubt anyone would have.

He's on edge, tearing his sight from the paper scribbles and readjusting his glasses.

He isn't given the chance to speak before Yuu stomps over and places a hand on their head. "You deserve a break, don't you?"

The Prefect is magicless, he knows this, but it feels like they put a sleeping spell on him, a heavy weight like that of a warm duvet blanketing over him.

It's the first he's relaxed, but he's too exhausted to say his thanks, resting his head on the desk as Yuu pets him.

Victim #4 - Jamil

Jamil is perpetually stressed. He has to worry about Kamil's food, Kalim's daily safety, Kalim's chores, Kalim's grades, Kalim Kalim Kalim, it's no wonder he's overblotted, but just because he has doesn't mean he'll be given any sort of break.

It's a bunch of Scarabia students who beg Yuu for help, since they were one of the handful of people who's actually faced off against his overblot, and who isn't terrifying to talk to.

Without any other attendants to help with Kalim or the dorm duties, Jamil would be found carrying stacks upon stacks of items to and fro down the halls

Yuu practically shouts his name, and a whole chill raced up his spine from Kalim trauma, but relief hit hard when he realized it was just the Prefect. He doesn't know why they are so worked up about him doing his job.

Yuu would offer a hand, and before he can refuse, it settles on top of his hood, pressing down just the slightest. When he looks back on it, he should have remarked that they would mess up his hair, but he was too stunned to even speak.

They would take some of the stuff in his arms, and spend the rest of the day just helping do small chores, and in return, get a lovely meal and a genuine thank you from Jamil.

He won't ever mention the headpat again, but if by some lucky miracle he gets some time off, he'll seek the companionship of the Prefect.

Victim #5 - Vil

Vil is hard to find stressed, because he knows that stress messes with his sleep and that messes with his skin and he can't risk that, so he has spa days - that always get interrupted, yoga and meditation - that are ruined when Rook enters and spews verse after verse about such a lovely day being spent outside, well fine, he still has his cheat days to fall back on, except Epel ate all the berries.

He has no choice but to escape, and whats the one place he knows for sure he won't be bothered? Ramshackle, as long as he brings some tuna to bribe Grim away.

Yuu is the one to open the door, surprised but not bothered by his presence, and he asks if they would let him stay for just a few hours to just... hide.

He ends up falling asleep on the couch, which is one of the worst things he could have done, but when he wakes, he finds a pillow under his head and Yuu patting his hair gently.

While it wasn't part of the plan, it's certainly got a calming effect. Probably not as useful as a nice soak, but certainly something to keep in mind the next time he needs a quick pick-me-up

Idia - head pat headcannons

Obviously Yuu is the one to initiate, probably because the bitch called them 'the real life equivalent of a discord kitten' and he got so scared that to stave off their wrath he had to meow for them Kawaii Anime Girl Style

He got headpats for being a good kitten and went [Windows XP Error Sound Effect]

Do not mention or his head will turn pink and He Will Never Speak Again

Ortho will spill the beans and say that his Nii-san has developed an odd fascination with the action Ortho PLEASE DONT SPEAK YOUR BROTHER COMMANDS IT

Malleus - head pat headcannons

So idk I've never met a dude with horns on his head, and I would think that the horns kinda be like tusks on an elephant, or like, a tooth. Not a lot of feeling, but they still got nerves

But they are still the symbol of his might and power, so it's gonna be hard to get him to let anyone get near them. I feel like it would almost be seen as an insult if he were to lower his head and expose his horns.

Yuu asked very politely with no ill intentions, and he knows that, so it's probably why he does let the Little Child of man inspect the horns.

What he doesn't expect is for them to place a hand right between, and just. pet him. He would chuckle, but he wouldn't complain.

This Child of Man always manages to surprise him somehow.

This was a little longer than expected, but it was fun to do an ask. Continue to feed me, children.

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