#fic: arsonist's lullaby

[daughter-of-melpomene]

𝗡𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗔 𝗣𝗟𝗢𝗧 𝗕𝗨𝗡𝗡𝗜𝗘𝗦

By the request of my darling @ginevrastilinski-ocs and @dancingsunflowers-ocs (as well as @luucypevensie, though she's already been infodumped to about my newest children), I hereby present to you my new OCs for The Chronicles of Narnia! I might not have their official intro posts up for a little bit, but please still fell free to ask me questions about them!

(Before I get any futher into this, there are a few things I should clarify in order for the lore surrounding these OCs to make sense: 1) my OCs' stories are purely based off of the movie canon because the most I've read of the books is the first chapter of The Magician's Nephew, and 2) I have messed with the canon of the movies like, a lot. For starters, the Pevensies never go back into their world at the end TLTWATW, so they remain the kings and queens of Narnia. For another thing I also completely messed up the timeline so that the Telmarines try to invade and take over shortly after they become the rulers after they've heard about the White Witch's death, and Caspian defects and offers help to the Narnian crown, both because he wants to save himself from his uncle and because he never supported the invasion to begin with - basically, I'm just rewriting most of the story after the first movie to my liking. I'm still figuring out the intricacies of what that's going to mean for certain important events in the last two movies, but for now, on to telling you about the OCs!!)

HEMERA:

— Susan ship.

— Hemera comes from a family of Golden Witches - witches that have mastery over light and heat and solar energy depending on their power level. Her family comes from the same coven that the White Witch used to be a part of, and only a few of them, including Hemera's mother, were able to escape and survive when Jadis killed most of the coven and took over Narnia (yes, I have also very much made up my own Narnian witch lore).

— When Hemera is eleven years old, however, Jadis comes looking for the Golden Witches she missed, killing Hemera's mother, grandmother, great-aunt, and even her human father, and she is sent away to hide, becoming the only Witch besides Jadis left alive in Narnia.

— She spends the next several years in hiding, being sheltered by kind animals or sleeping in forests and being kept safe by the trees, until she hears that the prophesied Daughters of Eve and Sons of Adam have actually arrived in Narnia and are teaming up with Aslan to form an army against the White Witches forces, and she decides to volunteer her magic to help in the fight.

— Her magic isn't actually very strong or focused, however, because she's spent so long barely using it to try and stay safe, so she doesn't do much in the fight. But after Jadis is defeated and the Pevensies are crowned rulers of Narnia, Aslan suggests that they appoint Hemera as the Court Witch - a position rulers of Narnia before Jadis would always have a Witch fill, to help in any battles and provide council on magical matters - promising that he will give her lessons to help her connect more to the Deep Magic and her own powers.

— A hopeless little lesbian who takes one look at Susan with her bow and arrows and pretty much immediately falls in love (it takes Susan a little longer, especially considering the era she comes from, but she gets there).

— Definitely just as much a ray of sunshine as her powers suggest, but also not very good at social interaction since she's spent the majority of her time alone since she was eleven, so she's very impulsive and often just says whatever pops into her head (definitely a perfect contrast to Susan's quieter and planning-inclined nature).

— She and Susan are very much sunshine x sunshine protector.

— Becomes another sister to the rest of the Pevensies; she might have lost one family, but she definitely gained another.

ALARIC RYKER:

— Peter ship.

— A teenage crime lord from Thorn Town, a small city far enough away from Narnia's capital to be mostly spared from Jadis's wrath when she took over Narnia, only having to suffer the eternal cold and the general decline in food rather than the White Witch's cruelty.

— Long before Alaric was born, a smuggling ring called the Shadowy Ravens sprung up in Thorn Town as a response to the lack of resources, stealing from Jadis's soliders and shipments going to the royal palace in order to give them back to members of the community. They began resorting to worse means of getting things as time went on, even killing a few of Jadis's guards, but Jadis never payed them enough mind to take action against them, and the few soliders who did try to get revenge for their comrades were not sucessful.

— Alaric was born a street rat, born to a mother who didn't even know who his father was and who abandoned him when he was a few months old, and he was taken in by the second-in-command of the Shadowy Ravens, who raised him like his own son and taught him everything he knew.

— Alaric eventually rose to second-in-command himself (after doing some less-than-ethical tasks to prove himself) and after both the Ravens' leader and his adoptive father were killed in a scuffle with Jadis's soliders, shortly before the Pevensies came to Narnia, he rose to become the youngest leader the gang had ever had.

— About a year after the Pevensies are crowned kings and queens, when the Telmarines start to invade, Peter approaches Alaric and the Shadowy Ravens, asking for Alaric's help and for soliders to boost their army. He's heard about Alaric's gift for strategy, how despite being so young and constantly underestimated he's managed to take down several more gangs who sprung up in the early days of the Pevensies' rule and tried to steal his territory, and Peter knows his men are strong and trained enough to fight the Telmarines, but loyal enough that they will only join the fight if their leader gives them permission.

— Alaric is pretty reluctant at first - he doesn't exactly have a great amount of trust in any Narnian leaders given how he grew up - but he also figures that not only do the four new kings and queens not seem so bad, but that even if they don't turn out very well then the Telmarines would be worse, so he agrees to lend his strategic knowledge and any of his men who are willing to fight to the cause.

— After the Telmarines are defeated, Peter offers him a position as the new head battle strategist of the Narnian military, and Alaric actually decides he's had enough of being a gang leader, of all the violence and worrying about an entire village full of people depending on him, and accepts it, giving control of the Ravens over to his second but also making sure that the Pevensies set up a new system that will provide extra resources to towns and cities farther away from the capital like Thorn Town. (He also accepts the offer only a little bit because he thinks the new High King is cute and brave and compassionate.)

— It still takes him and Peter a while to get together, mainly because Alaric has big-time trust issues and struggles to let down any of his walls, but once they do they're a surprisingly sweet couple, and the other Pevensies are more than happy to accept Alaric as their new future brother-in-law.

KAI HALLOWS:

— Caspian ship.

— A pirate boy!! He was basically born on the sea, to a former captain of the Narnian Navy (Jadis disbanded most of the military when she took over and replaced them with her own soliders) and his wife. Kai was born on his father's ship, but it was difficult since no one on board really knew how to help a woman giving birth, and his mother died shortly after.

— After his wife's death, Kai's father retreated into the delusion that he was still a respected member of the Narnian military (despite the fact that most of the sea around Narnia was half-frozen and everyone in the surrounding countries were too scared of Jadis to allow his ship to dock in their cities) and ran his ship like a dictator, barely ever giving his crew a break and ignoring his son unless Kai had done something he didn't like, in which case he was yelling at him loud enough for the whole ship to hear. He treated Kai more like an insubordinate member of the crew than his son, and his actual crew did more of a job raising Kai than he did, taking it upon themselves to take care of the boy and raise him right.

— Kai was definitely a troublemaker and a bit of a rogue, always getting into trouble whenever the crew was actually allowed to dock somewhere, whether that was from pickpocketing or pulling some kind of prank on a local solider. Eventually, when he was fourteen, his father became fed up with him and left him, abandoning his son at a market in a city far away from Narnia and setting sail again, despite the protests of everyone on his crew.

— But rather than let that do anything to stop him, Kai located a large abandoned ship in the local harbor, claimed it as his own, and worked odd jobs until he had enough coin to fix it up properly. A few friends he had made in the city decided to sail off with him as the first crew members of the Golden Fish - the chosen name for his new ship - and as they sailed around more and more, getting used to thieving and being pirates in general, they picked up more and more souls looking for adventure, until Kai had himself a proper pirate crew.

— And a few years later, when the White Witch was defeated and ships started coming out of Narnia again, they were able to ramp up their exploits even more, until the Golden Fish and her crew were one of the most notorious names on the high seas.

— They're so well-known, in fact, that when Caspian wants to set sail to try and find seven Telmarine lords that he thinks will have the answer to stopping the green mist that has started to overtake parts of Narnia, High King Peter decides that it would be a good idea to contact the captain of the Golden Fish and offer him a large payment for taking the prince, his two youngest siblings, and their chosen crew along for extra protection.

— Kai agrees, of course - not only will he never say no to adventure or any amount of coin, but he suspects it might be good for his reputation to do business with the High King and not wind up in prison because of it - and he and his crew take the the prince, king, and queen, along with their chosen companions, aboard their ship to set sail on this voyage.

— He and Caspian bond over their father issues at first, but they get closer and closer over the course of the adventure, with Kai bringing Caspian out of the shell he was forced to live in when he was with the Telmarines even more than the Pevensies have over the year he's been with them, and eventually, of course, they fall in love!

— Kai also develops friendships with Lucy and Edmund - he and Edmund bond over being proud bisexuals with no time for hetero bullshit, and he and Lucy are very much badass WLW/MLM solidarity - and even when the voyage is over and they return to Narnia, Peter and Susan take an immediate liking to this boy who's stolen their friend's heart and managed to make him so happy (even if he does get the shovel talk of a lifetime from both of them).

Aaaaand that's it for info on my new Narnia babies!! It might take me a bit to get some proper intro posts for them, but you can still feel free to ask me whatever questions about them you want to!!

(I know I said Grace and @oneirataxia-girl have already been infodumped to about this, but I'm tagging them both because there's new info here, and I'm also tagging @endless-oc-creations because she loves Narnia as well!!)

#plot bunnies #upcoming ocs #oc: hemera #oc: alaric ryker #oc: kai hallows #narnia ocs #chronicles of narnia ocs #fic: sunbeam smile #fic: arsonist's lullaby #fic: jolly sailor bold

[princessmadelines]

another day, another story  ↳  arsonist's lullaby ; set during the DANCE OF DRAGONS

When asked to describe her home, DANAE doesn’t know what to say. At first, her mind goes to waves crashing upon grey cliffs, and the cold breeze that smells of salt, the raspy voices of fishermen; then, everything is engulfed by sand, scorching under her naked feet. She sees gold and marble, and the voices of men are soaked in lust. And she is young, too young, but she understands the world, and she knows only one truth: I am no one, I came from nowhere.  When DAEMON finds her, he is lost. His brother has forsaken him once again, banishing him from his home. He has no wars to fight in, no woman waiting for him on a bed of roses. The Rogue Prince is lost, and the fire in his blood knows no peace. Danae is young, and she's beautiful, too beautiful. Daemon is lost, but when he looks into her eyes, he sees something pure, unscathed by a world that has been too cruel. They find themselves bound to each other, tied together by the strings of Fate, travelling through the Free Cities in seach of a home neither of them can find. Where Daemon is impulsive and rash, Danae is thoughtful and calm; where he is blunt and careless, she is subtle and caring. She can't help but love him, but no one has ever taught her how to put it into words. He knows he can't let himself love her, because his fire would burn her to death, leaving nothing but ashes in his bloody hands. Their story isn't a tale, but neither is the world they live in.

inspo

do you want to be tagged? ask away!

#fic: arsonist's lullaby #oc: danae #littleocnation #gif #mads gifs

[artemisocs]

Jaesella Targaryen → Arsonist’s Lullaby

The Bastard Prince of Westeros, Aemarys Targaryen had never wanted his father’s crown. His loyalty had always been to his family and his king, and to his last remaining sister above all. As the last trueborn child of King Jaehaerys, Princess Jaesella had an even stronger claim than her half brother, but she knew that a girl could not claim her father’s throne. Until Viserys names Rhaenyra as his heir, challenging that long held belief. Almost instantly, whispers begin to rise up across Westeros. The One True Queen, they said, Jaehaerys’ true heir. Still, with House Targaryen more divided than ever, Jaesella was hardly eager to tear her family apart for her nephew’s throne. She can maintain the peace. She will maintain the peace, and Aemarys will protect her at every step. Until Daemon returns from his war, raising tensions to an all-time high. And when King’s Landing proves to no longer be safe for the young princess, it is up to Aemarys to do whatever it will take to protect her. Whether that be fleeing the capital or claiming her rightful throne.

Tag List: @chrissymunson​ @foxesandmagic

#ocappreciation #fyeahhotdocs #fyeahgotocs #allaboutocs #*intro #*gifs #*mine #house of the dragon oc #game of thrones oc #oc: jaesella targaryen #fic: arsonist's lullaby

[captainlordauditor]

trick or treat?

An idea that I've been rolling around in my brain but I haven't worked on for a few reasons, including not having enough details on how the plot happens yet, but primarily because i'm having pov problems:

Dick Grayson is taken by the Court of Owls and trained to be a Talon. For now, what this means is that he's not Robin. Without anyone to watch his back or give him reasons to watch his own back, Bruce dies a few years after he becomes Batman.

Gotham gets worse, and ten or fifteen years later Jason decides, what the hell, he's gotta Do Something about it. Nobody else is, so why not him? He knows that when he was a kid there was a bat vigilante rumored to haunt Gotham, and he really doesn't want to work for Black Mask forever, so.... he makes himself a crappy Batman costume held together with duct tape, and goes out.

Eventually, he realizes he has a shadow, and one night he stops in an alleyway to catch his breath and... the shadow approaches him. And okay, he's heard rumors about this guy, too, but he didn't think he was real, and he's clearly better trained and better equipped, and Jason is thinking, god, I'm fucked, and he's also thinking, what the fuck is this guy, because he barely seems human.

Except then, instead of attacking him, Talon just stares at him and says, "I thought you were dead. Do you come back like I do?"

.....thus begins the tale of how Batman!Jason brings a Talon home, gets into a fight with Alfred over Batman's legacy ("you had fifteen years to do something, you don't get to criticise my methods"), kills Black Mask, takes over his criminal empire, destroys the Court of Owls, generally improves Gotham, and possibly gets custody of his daughter from her supervillain second parent.

(That one gets sketchy).

#msfcatlover #answers #detective comics comics #fic writing #batmanjay taldick au #arsonist's lullaby #bouncing off the walls

[callsign-marlie]

Prologue. Part I. Part II. Part III. Part IV. Part V. Part VI. Part VII. Part VIII. Part IX. Part X. Story Content Warning: Rate M for mature content (minors DNI!!!) including but not limited to: mentions of drug use/smoking, alcohol consumption, explicit sexual scenarios, angst that will make your head spin and more to add a/n: time to introduce the dagger squad :) part 3 is almost complete, i'll probably finish it up tomorrow and will edit it later on monday to post monday night. every 4 days seems to be a good pace moving forward for me, so hopefully we can stick with that! thank you for loving this so much <3 x marlie Table of Contents

Part II: "Another Fine Navy Day!"

The Hard Deck was her job and Misha was thankful everyday for a boss like Penny Benjamin. With her house arrest and community service done, the admiral’s daughter had gone stir crazy sitting in her childhood bedroom surrounded by puffs of pink and old teddies on her bed with absolutely zero stimulation. She needed a big girl job to fund a renovation and The Hard Deck was just the job she was looking for. 

Penny was always kind to the aviators that frequented her establishment and was honored to have a veteran of such prestige on her staff. No matter how troubled Misha was, Penny took it upon herself to bring the misunderstood woman under her guidance, making every attempt to mend the tear in her wings. She even went so far as to give Moose a little badge to put on his service animal vest and got a custom made Hard Deck handkerchief for him to wear while Misha was on shift. After all, he was just as much as part of the staff as Misha.

“Now bourbon is surprisingly tricky,” Penny muttered, watching Misha’s unsteady pour. “Too much and the patron will hate you. Too little and the patron will hate you.”

“Is there a way to know what’s enough?” Misha questioned, her gaze flickering to the dribble of Maker’s Mark left on the bar. Crap. “There’s gotta be a universal measurement or something right?”

“Nah, you just have to eyeball it. ‘Comes with time, sweet pea, you’ll figure it out.” Penny flicked her bar towel under the glass to clean the single golden drop and took a sip of the poured liquid. Her lips peeled to an approving smirk, nodding her head. “Better. Now garnish that baby with some bitters, an orange peel and a cherry and you’re all done.”

Misha did as she was told and slid the sweating glass across the table to the other end of the bar, a gentle tink resounding as it tapped into the set of glasses down at the other end. Bullseye. At least her aim wasn’t shit.

“Penny, you think I’m ready for this? I know I’ve only been barbacking and observing, but do you really think I can tend tonight with you?”

“You don’t think you’re ready?” Penny wondered incredulously, an elbow resting on the resined cherry wood. “Honey, you’ve been here for six months now. I think that’s plenty of observation time. You’ve learned everything I have to teach you. Now’s the time to perfect it in practice! Have a little confidence in yourself! Besides, it’s mostly gonna be the aviators and regulars tonight: you know their blood is made of Bud. You’ll probably be pulling drafts most of the night anyway.”

A frown grew across Misha's lips. The aviators. Most likely the newest Top Gun class included. Every eight weeks, a new set of students strode through those doors to let off steam after their grueling flights and endless lectures. God, what Misha would give to be back in that part of her life. To feel the weight of the world flip her stomach upside down, the freedom of nothing but blue, blue skies. The camaraderie, the scent of jet fuel, the sense of family.  

She was envious.

Now, she needed to be content with her new home on the ground behind this big, old bar in the middle of Fightertown. So close, yet so far, stuck in her childhood home. Stifled. Trapped in that upstairs bedroom with no way out like Rapunzel in her gilded tower. 

But times were finally changing. This mission was an opportunity: she had a chance at freedom. A chance to make a change and turn her whole life around. She just had to let down her hair and wait for prince charming to make the steep climb up her lofty tower. All she had to do was not fuck it up.

Easier said than done.

Penny flipped the bar’s ‘closed’ sign to ‘open’ and it was time to sit and wait. The Padres game was playing muted on the big screen with the Jukebox warming up in a tired whir to life. Misha grabbed a few tokens from behind the bar and slotted them, throwing on anything that sounded nostalgic. The old box hadn’t been updated since ‘92, so modern music was never an option. It simply wouldn’t have fit in the Hard Deck, anyway. This place was generational; an icon. Adding rap and sugarplum pop to the mix would just curdle against the wallpaper and the wooden interior.

Moose was already at post in his bed near the entrance of the swinging bar door keeping his ever steady eye on Misha. No one even knew he was there. Misha crouched down to give him a kiss on the head before it was time to serve the first group of customers.

The crowd kicked up by the time the sun set and the ship was sailing smoothly. Penny and Misha got into the swing of things, passing tabs back and forth and sliding beers across to their assigned patrons. Misha was definitely more comfortable on beer duty with Penny taking over the hard liquor, but found herself pouring a few Old Fashions for some of the regular crowd. Their praise of her pour made her preen. 

The door swung open heavily, bouncing off the side of the dented wooden frame at a mess of uniformed pilots making their way down the stairs. They immediately went towards an unoccupied pool table and were joining in for games of darts while a few stragglers moved towards the bar.

Misha’s throat dried as she approached the first khaki-clad group, swinging her towel over her shoulder. “What’cha havin’ fellas?”

A wistful-looking gentleman and a taller, mustachioed guy moved forward with billion watt smiles on both of them. “Hey, can we grab two buds please?” The shorter of the two was rubbing his hands together in excitement.

Misha couldn’t help but return their smiles. “Comin’ right up!”

She popped the tabs on two brews and slid them down the way to the waiting pilots who caught them just as they slowed. The taller one let out an impressed whistle, tapping his glass against his partner’s. “Daaaaamn, that was smooth! You’ve gotta be a pro, but I can’t say I’ve seen you here before. What’s your name, madam bartender? Oh, this is gonna be open by the way.” The pilot dropped his card on the counter and sent her a wink. She sent a coy smile back while she racked it into the file tray. “Thanks, it took a bit of practice, ya know? And it’s Misha. What do they call you?”

“Name’s Payback, and this here is my WSO, Fanboy.” The other man raised his glass to her and sent a over wink himself. They’re gonna need to be reigned in if they keep it up. Misha could just hear the bar bell ringing in the future. “Well, nice to meet you guys. If you need anything, you know where to find me. Tab’s open, have fun out there, just not too much fun.” 

Penny was at the end of the bar eying her underling’s interaction with a grin on her face. Misha looked at her boss, gave a ‘what?’ hand gesture, and Penny strode her way over. She slung an arm around her shoulders, nodding her head to the direction of the now overflowing pool table. “Those two graduated two years ago. I’m just wondering what the hell they’re doing back in Fightertown.”

Two years ago?

Misha’s memory brought her back to that manila envelope her father had given her and the 9 faces that were involved. She remembered those two now. Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia and Reuban ‘Payback’ Fitch. So if they were here…

“Ahhhh Penny, my favorite MILF, long time no see babe. Grab me a Shocktop will you?”

The two women turned around to find sparkling white teeth, perfectly groomed blonde hair over gemstone green eyes. His elbows were propped on the top of the bar, fiddling with the Annapolis ring on his finger. His vision bounced between the two as his smile slowly flattened. “Wh- No fucking way.”

Penny observed her bartender to gauge her reaction. Misha wiped her hands on her bar cloth nervously, but slowly looked up to meet his eyes. There he was, her stupid, cocky, egotistical wingman from so long ago.

Misha’s grin broke free. “Hey, partner.”

His disbelief was comforting. A hand ran down the front of his face as he propelled himself to the side entrance of the bar. Misha couldn’t help her feet as she ran past a snoozing Moose and hopped the sliding bar door to leap into his arms. His biceps enveloped her and everything was warm. It smelled of pressed starch and that same, expensive Givenchy cologne he always wore. There was no doubt in her mind. It was him. Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin. In the flesh.

He pulled away from her for just a moment, taking in every mark and pucker on her face before tucking her back under his chin. His fingers parted through her dark hair and he cupped her face in his hands. “The hair is definitely new, I almost didn’t recognize you! What happened to my Barbie girl?!”

She scrunched her nose at him and put a stiff shove to his chest, laughing the whole way. “Yeah well, some of us have to change a bit, Ken, even you! Goddamn you’re even more ripped than the last time I saw you!”

Hangman struck a pose, pressing his hands together to puff out his pectorals. “Listen, when you’re as good as me, you gotta stay on your A game, Hotshot. You of all people should know that. You had to keep up with me after all, don't you remember?”

Hotshot. No one had called her her callsign for over three years. Not a soul. A spark attempted to light in the pits of her chest, but it was just too weak and snuffed out quickly. A shiver down her spine, replacing the moment of warmth. Misha attempted to bring her head back to the conversation. “Yes, I remember, but I never had to keep up with you. You had to keep up with me. But make that chest any bigger, Jake, they’re gonna start calling you Milkman!”

Jake’s vivacious laugh, nearly doubled him backwards, his arms around his waist. “Now that’s a good one, sweetheart! Definitely suits me more original than Bagman.” He did his best to wipe the faux tears from his eyes, his glare going icy. “After all, milk always turns to cream, and your boy knows how to churn, baby.”

A scowl and a smack on his bicep was all Misha could do to stop him from spying the flush on her face at his words. She was no prude, but Hangman always seemed to trigger her immediate embarrassment. “Can it, Seresin. Some hot babe out there’s gonna curdle your ass one day and you’ll be toast.”

The conversation they shared was light. He was still the coy, nauseating sonofabitch from all those years ago, but something was definitely aged about him. He was like a fine wine: still sweet under the tongue, but a bit more bold as well. Naturally as the crowd picked up, Misha needed to part ways to return to Penny to help her fend off the rascals.

“It’s been nice, Kaz. I’ll see you again soon. That’s a promise.” Jake stuck out his pinky finger. Misha returned her own painted digit, crossed them, and kissed her thumb. Jake returned the sentiment. Nothing was stronger than a pinky promise. 

“No doubt. Take it easy, Hangman.”

Misha didn’t see the held breath that left his chest when she turned away.

—

More familiar faces from Misha’s classified folder made their way into the bar throughout the night. Javy ‘Coyote’ Machado was scamming plebeians at darts, Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd was busy observing the billiards table while munching on peanuts (he caught her gaze a few times and looked away shyly every time), and even her TOPGUN crewmate Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace. She lost all of her signature composure at the sight of her old friend. “MISHA? Who the hell is this alternative babe?!” “Phee-hee-heeeeniiieeee~” Misha had sung, throwing the shorter woman into her arms. The hug they shared was the most joyful thing she had experienced in her last four years. 

Nearly all of the high scorers from Misha’s files were there and ready to rumble. She could smell the testosterone from across the bar as Hangman threw jab after jab, icy glare after icy glare, at each of his new crewmates. ‘So, which one of y’all have the guts to follow me?’ 

Establishing dominance. Fearmongering. Complete and utter domination. The Vigilantes had taught him well. But this side of Hangman was not something that Misha was familiar with. Her former wingman was never this brash from what she remembered. She didn’t recall the cold steel in his voice, the challenging demeanor, the loose posture of his shoulders when people upturned their noses to him. Maybe the wine she presumed he was aging like was more on the stale side than she had thought.

Hangman, Phoenix and Coyote were the most notable from her data she’s researched so far, but there was one more of the Big 7 that was still missing.

“Well, I’ll be damned. A chicken.” Coyote elbowed Hangman’s side. Blue eyes turned to the entrance, his his hands perched on his pool cue. “Bradshaw, as I live and breathe.”

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw, in all of his glory; neatly trimmed mustache and that same proud, ridiculous strut he always had, strut into the room, pulling his aviators down the bridge of his nose.

Misha was going to throw up. 

She ducked herself behind the bar out of sight to catch her breath. There was a vacuum in the room sucking out all of the oxygen. Moose had padded over to boop her arm with his nose, attempting to crawl under her chest. She gladly opened her lap for him to sit and put her hands through his fur to soothe her trembling fingers. Seeing all of her colleagues together was a trip down memory lane she wasn't quite ready to handle just yet, apparently. She better get over it fast. She had two days to prepare for their first mission briefing. 

Penny bent down to her level, putting a hand on her back and rubbing lightly. “You good, sweetie?”

“I need a smoke, I’m taking fifteen” Misha groaned out, staying ducked under the crowd until she was clear out of the stingy bar and in the crisp air. Moose pawed at the sand behind her, keeping his eyes trained on his charge like a shadow.

The fall was bitter on the beach side and the sting of the ocean air stabbed pins into her arms. A familiar buzz stung between her ears. She smacked the side of her head as if she was tuning an old radio. Not now.

Fuck off, she muttered to herself, clicking off her hearing aids for a few moments of silence. The waves moved soundlessly. Everything was still other than the wind in her hair. She could almost imagine the ‘whoosh’ past her ears. Moose was positioned directly next to her, his tongue lolling to the side like usual. Her fingers tickled beneath his vest. Just a girl and her pup. No sounds. No worries. 

"We're ok, Moosey," she smiled out, giving her shepherd a kiss. He returned it on the side of her cheek. "Yes, I know. We can do this."

It was peaceful once again, but not for long.

Ten minutes of blissful silence passed when she felt the thud through the cold sand. With a start, she spun to her feet  before she had even seen the figure next to her. Misha quickly flicked her aids back on, Moose standing at attention beside her while her eyes and ears readjusted to the light and sounds output by the Hard Deck. A quick ‘blip’ let her know they were activated and the crashing of the waves and a piano with rowdy voices brought her back to reality. The leather jacket-clad figure with the back of his head in the sand couldn’t have gotten here at a more inopportune time.

“... Uncle Pete?”

---

tag list: @alanadetigy @luckyladycreator2

#arsonist's lullaby fic #top gun maverick #top gun maverick ff #bradley bradshaw ff #jake seresin ff #hangman ff #rooster ff #rooster x oc #hangman x oc #rooster x reader #hangman x reader

[lurkerdelima]

terrible/great idea I had in the shower: a Hannibal-flavored Black Sails AU where Flint is the brilliant psychiatrist serial killer, and Silver is his patient

#silverflint #lurker rambles #fic ideas #it would be called like #‘big god’ or ‘arsonist’s lullaby’ #or something else dramatic #what a bad idea #i definitely shouldn’t write it #unless?

[bravelittleflower]

🙃 + lori

#oc: monkey d. lori #fic: arsonist lullaby #fd: one piece x fairy tail crossover

[utterlyotterlyx]

Cassian and writing prompt #21, “Stay”

I’m desperate for more Cassian x Reader fics!! Thank you :)

Arsonist's Lullaby

Cassian x Fem!Reader

Summary - Cassian thinks he knows best when he pushes you away, to protect you, but nothing prepared him for a threat on your life and no one can stop him from reaching you.

Warnings - angst, smut smut smut, fluffffffff, swearing, mentions of death

Word Count - 4.9k

Sunlight speckled over your skin, its warm embrace curling around like Cassian once did, glittering its unwavering love across your paled surface, willing it back to life.

It wasn't out of the ordinary for you and Cassian to fight, but something about that fight felt different. More final in a way.

Cassian was always worrying over you, his mate, and what harm his title could potentially inflict upon you. He had been pushing you away, had been spending more time away from you; you knew why, you knew he was scared of being the reason anything happened to you but that didn't mean that he had to shut you out.

Your mate had done everything to prepare you for any potential attack, any risk to your life, you were a skilled fighter thanks to Cassian, even Azriel broke into a sweat sparring against you and Cassian smirked with pride at the image.

Weakness was not a part of your vocabulary, he knew that, but he still treated you as a fragile swirl of winter warmth and you weren't appreciating it.

Confronting Cassian had ensued an argument that would shatter any unmated couple, you had both hurled abusive words to one another, you had called him spineless and unwilling to fathom your ability to be able to care for yourself like you had during the war against Hybern when you had used your rare gift of Solakenisis to hurtle spheres of radiating flame across the battlefield. In return, Cassian had called you weak and pathetic, he had called you reckless and immature, and landed his final blow of calling you jealous of the other women in your circle for having the freedom and strength that you would never be able to wield.

Such an argument left you both panting, with raw throats and wet cheeks, with snarls of hatred sculpted to your usually attached lips.

Cassian had left you then, had left you alone in your shared home with a bag in his hand without a word of when he would return to you. It felt final. It felt damning.

So you decided to leave yourself, but instead of leaving to escape the too-large-for-yourself home to the sanctuary of the residence of your family, you chose to leave the city altogether and chose to not tell a soul, not even Rhys as he tapped on the walls of your iron clad mind once he had felt your essence float through his wards.

Sunlight continued to kiss your skin as you lay in the familiar comfort of your Day Court bed, in the room Helion had promised to always keep for you. Helion was your older brother, well half-brother, but he wouldn't let anyone mutter a word about your bastard heritage, your shared father had been quite the rake in his prime, and such actions birthed you, his bastard daughter with the power to harness the destructive powers of the sun.

It was baffling for you to comprehend why exactly Cassian was so worried for you when you had the ability to unleash heavenly fire across Prythian if you so wished it. That, and the fact that the bond had snapped for Cassian one evening in Day was why Rhys had lobbied for your presence in his court in the first place all those years ago, long before Amarantha.

Amarantha was intrigued by you, you were the only individual she wasn't able drain power from, your abilities were other-worldly, untouchable. So, she gave you an option, stay uninvolved and advise her or watch your brother perish before your eyes. You chose the former.

All you have is your fire. Use it.

Amarantha erupted into flames when she had killed Feyre, unable to free herself from the bindings you had chained around her limbs. She had screamed, gargled in fact as you stood behind her, hands at your sides and your mind ripping her apart from the inside out. Boiling and burning her alive. Fire danced through your hair, it burned brightly in your eyes, sunlight pulsed around you, a blinding thing, a warning to others.

Your power was not yours to gift, it was not for anyone else to yield but you, Helion knew as much and was stern as he told Tamlin that you were not to offer up any of your power to save the human girl in his arms.

That said human girl, Feyre, now your High Lady, had grown to be a very good friend of yours.

Rising from the depths of the cream silken sheets, you touched your rough cheeks, crying for hydration from the tears you had poured upon them for the eighth night in a row. The bond had gone cold by your own foolish wish, you had locked it off, you had refused any attempts of contact, and Helion had obliged and denied your presence in his court when Rhys and Cassian had reached to him, Helion had even gone as far as to plant a seed in Feyre's mind that you may be in Autumn since Eris was a good friend of yours despite his relationship with the Night Court.

Autumn was the one place they would have difficulty infiltrating, and Eris was more than happy to play along if it gave you some peace.

Eight days was the longest you had gone without Cassian, without anything flowing through the bond, without seeing him, without being wrapped up in his body as he fucked you relentlessly into oblivion.

It was exhausting.

The Day Court sun brought some life back to you, cascading her glow upon you and enriching your skin with her gentle loving shimmer. She had always doted on you, the energy she bestowed upon you was unmatched, and you often found her watchful eye following you wherever you walked, whispering to you always.

The sun had chosen you, her vessel, to right the wrongs of the world, and Cassian always chose to look over that fact.

Your home court was known for its elaborate fashion, the ornate gold jewellery and accessories that you had found wrapped around your hands and feet, and the halo crown caressing the back of your head. The dress you had worn held a solid gold bodice of intricate swirls that allowed your skin to peek out beneath it, that attached to a pale shimmering skirt, and golden chains draped across your collarbones and fell down your spine. It moulded to your figure perfectly.

You were not weak or jealous, or reckless, you were a child of the sun, a strong and formidable creature. No one, not even Cassian, could take that from you.

Cassian had been cursed out by every member of your shared family when he had arrived at the House of Wind looking like shit with a bag between his fingers.

He thought he was right. He thought he was protecting you. But after having his ass handed to him by Azriel and Rhys, and Feyre and Mor's stern words, and Amren's glare of pure disgust, Cassian knew he had fucked up.

Cassian had raced back to your shared home, one that was a harmonious myriad of light and dark, of sun and night, and found it solemn and empty. He had raced up the stairs, he had looked in your drawers and saw everything still in place, then he had headed to your vanity and inhaled sharply when he saw that the small picture of your mother had gone, which meant you had too.

Screaming down the bond, Cassian was met with a stone cold wall of rippling silence, and he broke. Cassian fell to his knees holding one of your dressed between his fingers, it still smelt of you, of hot salted ocean breezes and fresh roses, and he cried.

He had spent the next week trying to locate you, being turned away from every court, even Helion had no idea where you had gone, but had told Feyre that you may have gone to Eris, your friend, as you knew that would be the one place he couldn't get to you.

Rhys had demanded entry to Autumn, which Eris had refused with a sly smirk on the boarder, his hounds circling through his legs. Eris was enjoying Cassian's pain far too much and had the gall to quip, "She doesn't want to see you, Lord of Bloodshed. Perhaps you listen to her this time, considering you have a habit of refusing to."

A spit in the face of his love for you. Cassian had gone to step over the threshold only to be held back by Azriel, Eris' hounds were snarling and barking at the three Illyrians trying to enter their home, "You would risk war?"

Eris grinned, fixing the lapels of his jacket, "A war would take y/n from you forever. I don't think you'd be that stupid," he turned from them, whistling for his hounds to follow, "As long as she's here, she will be fine. I suggest you go home and mull over the ways in which you have failed her."

Missions were the only thing that would give Cassian the opportunity to relent his frustrations, his force was sickening, he broke the bones of their enemies with his bare hands, he ripped them apart with his own self-loathing fury. Azriel had never seen Cassian in such a state, he blamed himself for your disappearance, and rightfully so, any of them could have told him that you were capable of destroying him if needed, let alone anyone else. Though, Azriel didn't blame Cassian for trying to protect you, for believing that your bond could bring harm to you, Azriel would think the same if he were in Cassian's shoes.

"Cass, we do need at least one of them alive," Azriel followed his brother on his war path, he watched him in concern as he drove his sword through the hearts of many soldiers.

Bodies lay broken around them, blood coated the ground and walls, it was a monstrous sight to take in. Cassian's hair lay unbound on his shoulders, matted with sweat that coated his brow, his wings were tense as he swung, they shuddered in fear of his force.

Cassian grunted to Azriel, whipping his air away from his face and facing him with a dead glare behind his hazel eyes, "Fine," he smirked and sheathed his sword, motioning to Azriel to approach the singular male who was moments away from death.

Blood coated his lips, his eyes had dimmed, but he still wore evil like a brooch on his heart, he spat the contents of his bloody mouth at Azriel as he bent down to grasp him by the collar, "You're going to tell me of your plans to attack Velaris, you're going to tell me and I may spare you."

The male chuckled low and sinister, hatred blazed in his faltering eyes and he smiled, toothy, but blood coated the once yellow tinged teeth. There wasn't much time to get answers, "We're already moving, you're too late."

Azriel cocked his head to the side, "I'm going to need more than that. I can make this much more painful for you," Truthteller dragged across the males bobbing throat, he knew of the Shadowsinger, he had heard to rumours of his ruthless torture.

The males gaze flickered to Cassian who stood behind Azriel, leaning against the bloodied wall looking disinterested, "You can thank him for that," his finger twitched in Cassian's direction, "Do you really believe that your High Lord is the protector of your court?" The male leaned forward, "Your greatest protector, the most powerful being in Prythian, is no longer being hidden by your court. She is elsewhere, we have been watching her, preparing for the perfect moment to snatch her away. With her power in our grasp, we will be unstoppable."

Cassian felt panic settle in his soul as the male continued, bitterly laughing as he spoke, "Y/N. A child of the sun, back in her home court, ready to follow her destiny. You can thank your Lord of Bloodshed for accelerating our plans."

Azriel turned to Cassian with wide eyes, eyes that Cassian matched. It was never about attacking Velaris, it was about capturing you, using your power for their own tyrannical plans, bleeding you dry and taking your power from your body.

"Cass-"

But Cassian was already moving, turning on his heels and pelting from the room as fast as he could, flexing his wings to ready them for flight whilst calling out to Rhys to meet them at the Day Court Palace as fast as possible.

Cassian flew as fast as he could, he would never be able to forgive himself if anyone harmed you, especially when he had made it so easy for them to reach you. He had to find you, he had to stop it, he had to save you.

Helion growled at the intrusion of the three Illyrians entering his personal library that was three times the size of the library at the House of Wind, but his snarl faltered when he saw the frenzied eyes and the blood coating Cassian and Azriel's armour. He rose from his seat quickly, not having a moment to say anything when Cassian paced over to him, "I don't have time for pleasantries. She's in danger. Where is she?"

Helion noted the fire in Cassian's eyes, the way his siphons glowered dangerously in awaiting answer, "How do I know that this isn't some elaborate ruse to take her?"

Azriel stepped forward, voice low in warning, noticing Cassian's fists clench and his chest seethe with anger, "Our enemies have been hunting her, they wish to drain her power and unleash it on the world. We need to find her."

Helion's language shifted, he faced Cassian with equal fury, going toe to toe with the Lord of Bloodshed and bit, "If anything happens to my sister, I will end you."

"I will end myself before you ever could, now tell me where she is."

A wild wind bellowed through the open arches, enough for Helion to wince at the forceful impact. That wind swarmed through the palace, it was wild and cold, it was a warning from the world to run and hide. Helion fought against it toward the balcony, his locks whipping around in the tornado that had encased his court, his eyes focused on the forest in the distance and he pointed, "She's in there."

Then, from nowhere, bright thunderous light quaked from the sky as large spheres of sun fire raced past them and slammed into the ground below, where you were. The trees lurched with the impact, splintering and sprouting in differing directions, wailing at their demise, and the ocean dragged itself back to a safe distance. Fire rained from the sky, but the wind was too forceful for any of them to fly to you.

"RHYS!" Cassian bellowed to his brother, their eyes locked and he nodded, catching Cassian with a free hand with Azriel in the other, winnowing them to where they needed to be.

The scene was sickening. Trunks lay cracked and broken, simmering fire trickled along the earth that rumbled beneath their feet with each impact of fire that slammed against the ground. They couldn't see two feet in front of them let alone much else due to the heavenly light that emitted from you, but Cassian felt you, for the first time in what felt like centuries, he felt you.

Cassian felt your fury course down the bond, it was mixed with fear and guilt, and it lead them straight to you. In return, he threw all of his love down the bond as another sphere of your fire hurtled down through the sky, and he swore he could have heard you gasp and pause.

The light dimmed, and their eyes adjusted to see you in the clearing metres ahead from them, surrounded by bodies, some bloody and other burnt beyond recognition. A dagger was glued between your fingers and you let our a shaky exhale, like you didn't realise you had been holding your breath all that time.

The clearing looked more like a crater, a once plush area of wildlife that you sought comfort in was now a crater of ash and broken souls, and Cassian watched your cracked eyes survey your surroundings, hating what you had done.

Cassian rushed to you, slamming his body into yours and cradling you into his chest, "Are you alright?" He pulled away and cupped your face in his hands gingerly, wiping away the ash that had settled on your cheeks, "Speak to me, my love."

"I'm okay," your voice was hoarse and quiet, your eyes connected and he saw the tears pool in them along with the devastation that coursed through the bond, "I'm sorry. You were right-"

"Don't apologise," he told you, wiping away the tears that spilled down your ashen cheeks, leaving streaks of sunlight flowing down them, "I was wrong, so wrong. You don't need anyone to protect you, you aren't weak or jealous, you are strong and more capable of protecting yourself more than anyone I know. You are your greatest protector, not me. I'm so sorry, I was just trying to keep you tucked away and safe. But you've always meant to shine, I never should have tried to stop it."

"You were trying to keep me safe, Cass," your voice trailed off and you examined the scene, paying no notice to Rhys and Azriel at the edge of your crater, "What have I done?"

Cassian's fingers ran through your hair, "You did what you had to, alright? It's okay. If I hadn't pushed you away then none of this would have happened. I'm so stupid. I'm so sorry."

Your hands lay on his chest and you sighed, "Take me home, Cass. I can't be here."

Cassian had doted on you the moment you were back in his arms, he ordered Rhys to winnow you both back to your shared home whilst Azriel stayed to assure Helion that you were fine and in need of some much needed time with your mate.

The searing heat of the tub wound around your muscles and soothed the ache in your soul. The water was far too hot for Cassian to climb into, so he instead sat on the edge of the tub and washed your hair, picking apart the knots within it and allowed his large hands to unwind the bundled nerves in your shoulders.

When the water had gone cold, he lifted you from the tub and dried your limbs, he brushed your damp hair and dressed you in a thin nightgown, and not once did he stop apologising to you, not once did his lips stop peppering kisses along your shoulders and forehead.

You stood before him, needing much more than just sweet kisses and kind words.

"Tell me what you need," he had said when he saw the look in your eyes, one that radiated doubt but also desire.

Cassian stood still in front of you, his hands resting on your hips and you stood on your tiptoes to capture his lips in a searing kiss, one that he hummed into, allowing his hand to cradle the back of your head as he deepened it. Cassian had missed your lips too much.

Against his own building desire, Cassian gently pushed you backward, "My love, you're hurting," he didn't want to take advantage of your vulnerability in that moment.

"Do you love me?"

Cassian frowned, and let out a disbelieving scoff, "More than anything."

"Good," you pressed your lips to his again, pulling back slightly and peering at him through your lashes, "Because I need you to fuck me like you don't."

His cock twinged at the words and he closed his eyes, opening them to see you push the straps of your nightgown over your shoulders, revealing your peaked nipples to him as it fell down your body. Cassian knew why you needed it, you needed to feel something other than the pain of destroying one of your most sacred places, you needed him in the most passionate way possible.

"Are you sure?" Fire spread through him when you used his forearms as leverage to capture his lips on yours again, in a starving embrace, one that sent blood pooling to his cock that throbbed against his leathers in knowing that where it needed to be was only inches away.

Cassian walked you backwards until your legs hit the back of your bed and you lowered yourself onto the mattress. Fierce lust was laced within you, you propped you heels up on the frame and spread your legs to your mate, that feral animalistic need to be rutted filling the room illuminated by flickering candlelight.

Wasting no time, Cassian ripped his leathers from his body and fell to his knees before you, his muscles contracted in the golden hue of the room, he grasped your thighs and dragged you toward him, his warmth breath fanning over your core as he placed kisses down your stomach and in the creases of your thighs, making you suck in a shaky breath as he placed a final peck to the bundle of nerve that were aching for his tongue.

"I've missed the taste of you so much, my love," the movement of his lips on your skin made electricity course through you, the stubble of his beard scratching against your inner thighs.

Whining, your back arched when he drug his tongue up your slit, the groan emitting from his throat vibrating against you threatening to blind all of your senses. He smiled against your core, winding his tongue around your clit and sucking on the nerves, his fingers dug into your thighs to stop your squirming as his pace became relentless. Sucking, biting, and swirling his tongue in the ways he knew made you turn into a mewling mess, he pumped his cock in his hand to relieve the building pressure, to allow him to focus on you, his beautiful moaning mess of a mate completely at his mercy.

Cassian lapped up your taste, groaning in pleasure at it as he pumped his digits in you, pressing down on your stomach with his free hand to make that rough spot inside of you meet every brush of his touch. He noted the hitch of your breath and the way your fingers found his hair, pushing his face into your cunt, telling him how close you were from falling from grace. Cassian kept his pace, taking your throbbing clit into his mouth and flicking his tongue against it as his fingers hit that spot again and again until you were crying out his name and tensing around his fingers.

Your mate continued his tirade, pulling two more orgasms from your lips before his pace slowed and he removed his fingers from you. Humming, he sucked your juices from one of his fingers and then slid the other into your mouth as he hovered over you, his cock ready and weeping on your thigh.

He threw your clenched legs apart and nestled between them, "You can thank me tomorrow," he told you, no doubt alluding to the fact that your lips hadn't found his cock yet, "I just need you."

Without warning, he pushed into you, and his delicious cock stretched you out, you threw your head back and moaned, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he lowered himself and captured your lips hungrily against his own, transferring the taste of you to your tongue. He moved, slowly at first, and you met his hips in the rolling rhythm he had created, then he became more desperate and picked up his pace, biting and sucking at the skin on your neck, no doubt marking it for everyone to see once he would allow you out of your bed after fucking you on every surface possible.

Cassian groaned into the crook of your neck, his fingers held a bruising grip on your hip as he slammed into you, the tip of his cock smacking against that rough spot inside of you, "I love you, y/n. I love you so much," his brows were furrowed, like he knew how much force he was using and had to tell you how much he loved you just in case he was taking it too far.

Panting, you replied, "I love you too, Cass. I love you," you were cut off by your own moan, your hands flew above your head encased in his own, he gripped the sheets and snarled and he pulled out of you and flipped you over, pushing your head into the mattress and growling as the tip of his cock teased your entrance again, and you took it in it's entirety, groaning so deliciously that it took everything within Cassian to not explode at the sight of your ass bouncing on his cock.

Cassian bent down, his fingers delicately wrapped around your throat and pulled you upright, his fingers stayed there, restricting your oxygen in the best way imaginable as he pushed up into you, sucking and nibbling on your earlobes and neck between his own rough moans of pleasure.

As long as you had Cassian, there was nothing else you'd ever need to feel fulfilled. He was everything, your life and death, your shoulder to sob upon, your cock to cum on. Cassian was yours, his soul belonged to you just like every fibre of your existence hung onto him.

"Stay. Don't ever leave me again," his voice was full of emotion in your ear as he fucked you into the whispering depths of the ocean that was your bond.

Cassian's free hand twisted at your nipples before travelling downward, resting atop your stomach and pushing your hips backward to meet his relentless thrusts, and you felt the familiar pressure building there, holding on wasn't possible when his fingers travelling further, finding your clit and tracing slow circles into the nerves, smirking into your shoulder as high pitched cries flowed from your lips.

"I'll never leave you," you were breathless, and you hardly felt him pull out from you as he pushed you onto your back again, throwing your leg over his arm and pounding into you until he began to falter. His lips found your nipple again, sucking and biting on the sensitive nub of skin, and his fingers continued to flicker over your clit, "Cass, please. I'm going to-"

"So am I," he groaned, pressing his forehead to yours, "Cum for me, my love," Cassian pressed his lips to yours, capturing your orgasm in his mouth before releasing your lips to allow you to scream his name as that searing white heat consumed your entire body.

Cassian could have swore you began to glow as it consumed you, and you basked in that warmth, he basked in the clench of your walls quivering around his cock and milking him until there was nothing left to fill you with. Your mate fucked you through both of your highs, groaning your name and growling as he filled you, panting as he slowed his pace and lay on top of you.

In the comfortable silence, you found him staring at you with wonder, he hovered over you propped up on his elbows, tracing his fingers along your glistening skin, "What?"

Cassian smiled, "I want a baby," he admitted, "I can't stop myself from being scared about losing you, a part of me will always be terrified. But, what I can stop is myself holding back in the life I dream of with you," his hazel eyes scoured your face, and peace settled between you, "I want a product of us, of our love and strength. I want a family with you, a big family full of love and wonder and adventure where you have to tell me off after our fourth for wanting another," you giggled tearfully beneath him and he wiped a tear away with the pad of his thumb, "The idea of losing you is my greatest fear, y/n. I don't want anything to happen to us, and I don't want us to be left with nothing if-"

"Cass," you cooed to him, pulling him from the devastating thoughts in his mind, "I want all of that too, I want the picket fence and enough children to drive Az insane. Enough cousins for Nyx for them all to grow up in their own inner circle and replace us all one day. I want a life with you void of sadness. I want you, forever, even when our day comes to leave this reality, I will want you and I will guide you to the heavens so that we may live in an eternity of love waiting for everyone we adore to join us."

Cassian pulled you up the bed and encased you in his arms, draping a thin sheet over your forms and running his fingers through your hair whilst you kissed his chest softly, "You found me in darkness and we made our own light. We burn brighter than anything that may await us," he kissed your forehead and gazed into your eyes, a smirk worked its way onto his face, "The sun has nothing on you, you know."

Authors Note

Daddy Casssss

Hope you love it! x

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar imagine #maasverse #fanfiction #imagine #cassian #cassian x you #cassian acotar #cassian x fem!reader #cassian x y/n #cassian x reader #cassian fluff #cassian smut #cassian angst #acotar smut #acotar azriel #azriel acotar #rhys acotar #rhysand #high lord helion #helion acotar #eris acotar #cassian imagine #acotar oneshot #acotar angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #feyre archeron #nyx

[adhdprincess]

TLOU rec-list for fics with less than 100 kudos!

If you don't have much time to read, rebloging is a great way to show support. Let's uplift these talented fic writers!

Cuddle up with some Fluff

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Tear your heart out with Angst

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Journey through these AUs!

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If you read a story and enjoy, consider leaving a comment! Writers love encouraging comments, even if it's just a heart emoji ❤️.

This rec-list is here to uplift the wonderful writing community in this fandom. Please share this around to show support for writers!

Thanks to @saradika-graphics for the divider!

#community day #Not adding a self promo because of SHAME #feel free to add to this list #fic rec #tlou #the last of us #tlou fanfic #the tipsy bison #tlou joel #tlou ellie #tlou fanfiction #joel miller #ellie williams #tlou fan fiction

[my-beloved-fandoms]

starter guide to gay fanfics in the harry potter universe!

my favorite fics!

so far, and i’m new, i loved:

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Second Generation - MsAlexWP, Wolfstar, 47.3k, rated E

Me and You - polyjuicedpadfoot, Rosekiller, 8.8k, rated E

October & The Moon - cheeryknots, Wolfstar; Marylily; Jegulus; Rosekiller, 42k, rated M

The July Tree - oknowkiss, Drarry, 51.6k, rated E

A Black Mass Over Highway Ninety - greenvlvetcouch, Wolfstar, 225.1k, rated E

Night and Day - ani-wahstan, Jegulus, WIP with 95.7k so far, rated M

Star Quality - who_la_hoop, Drarry, 118.6k, rated E

edge

Arsonists Lullaby

Be the Boy

sealed with a kiss

#fic rec #harry potter fic rec #marauders fic rec #jegulus fic recs #jegulus fic rec #drarry fic recs #drarry fic rec #wolfstar fic recs #wolfstar fic rec #rosekiller fic recs #rosekiller fic rec #tomarry fic rec #tomarry fic recs

[skullsandp0tions]

What different Rdr2 characters are as songs!! (I’m running out of ideas- Might start posting full fics soon) but less of the happy themes and more of the vibes.(as a person who grew way too attached)

Arthur: Ophelia by The Lumineers. / Bridges Burn by Paul Otten.

Charles: (Spring) This was your place by Sunlight Ascending. / Wayfaring stranger by Ashley Johnson, Troy Baker.(TLOU MENTIONED???)

Dutch: Arsonist’s lullaby by Hozier. / Please, Please, Please, let me get what I want by the smith’s.

John: Should I stay or should I go by The Clash. / Two birds by Regina Spektor.

Hosea: Chamber of relfections by Mac DeMacro. / You’re Dead by Norma Tanega.

Javier: Old Doll by Bluerra-sai. / Bamboléo by Gipsy Kings.

Sadie: Maneater by Nelly Furtado. / Hayloft ll by Mother Mother.

THIS IS ALL YOU GET FOR NOW 🫡 I HAVE TO GO COOK UP A FIC.

#charles smith #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 #rdr2 spoilers #dutch van der linde #john marston #sadie adler #hosea matthews #javier escuella #songs #spoilers??

[sadboyeddie]

Taking Care Of You

October 9th: Massage

Kinktober 2022

Summary: Eddie is very sweet and we don’t deserve him

Warnings: (Minors DNI 18+ only) smut

A/N: woo that’s three fics in a day

2.4k Words

Masterlist

You stomp your way up the steps to Eddie’s trailer, letting out a bit of your anger by slamming the front door.

Eddie shoots up from the couch where he was lounging casually, wide eyes looking in your direction as he enters fight or flight mode. Well, actually it was flight mode, he lowkey thought it was the cops.

“What the hell,” he gives you a look that screams ‘really?!’ as he clutches his chest dramatically like an old woman who just saw two girls kissing for the first time.

“Sorry,” you mumble, you head to the small kitchen and hold a glass under the tap until it’s half full.

Eddie is worried more by your silence then your furious entrance, fully used to you coming home in a huff over something that happened at work but you were usually very vocal about it.

But with your silence cutting the air he can’t help but feel personally affected by this. Did he do something? Forget something?

“Princess,” he’s cautious as he walks up behind you, trying to make heads or tails of the situation.

“Eddie,” you whimper and spin around before collapsing into his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist in a tight hug.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he rests his cheek against the top of your head allowing you to soak in his warmth.

After a few minutes of still silence your muffled voice fills the small area, “I work with dickheads.”

He lets out a snort and holds you closer, unable to hold back the smile. There’s his girl.

“Yeah?” He rubs his large hands up your back and you melt into the feeling.

“Yeah,” you nod, “should’ve burned the place down when I had the chance.”

Eddie is full blown laughing now, the sound relaxing and the gentle rumble from his chest makes you nuzzle closer.

“My little arsonist,” he slightly pulls back and you whine.

“Noooo, come back,” you try to pull him closer but he just leans down to kiss away your pout.

Okay, you’ll allow it.

“C’mon, baby,” he slides his hands down the length of your arms until he entwines his fingers with yours, leading you to his bedroom.

You let out a sigh of content as the familiar scent of Eddie fills your nostrils.

“Lay down, princess,” he kisses your forehead and pushes you gently towards the bed. You go to lay on your back but he softly corrects you, “no, no, baby, on your stomach.”

You let out a soft ‘oh’ as you follow instructions, shedding your coat and shoes as you go.

When you’re comfortable you watch as Eddie turns the bedroom light off and ignites the candles around his room, originally you had brought them when you started staying over more, enjoying the soft scent, Eddie clearly enjoyed it too because when the first couple burned out he replaced them straight away. His room now never without candles.

The room fills with a soft warm glow as he strips down to his boxers before reaching down to his bed table and pulling the baby oil from the drawer, turning and smiling to you every few seconds.

The baby oil is almost empty and you hide a smirk in your arms knowing full well that he uses it to slick up his cock when he’s alone. You’ve caught him a few times and each one of those times Eddie babbled out excuses about how you make he so hard and he hasn’t cum this much since he hit puberty and found one of Wayne’s dirty mags under the couch cushion.

When he realised you liked the idea of coming home and watching him touch himself he made it his personal goal to achieve whenever he knew you were coming over.

He walks over to his boom box and slips in a mixed tape of your favourite metal songs, when you started dating you’d spend hours on his bed listening to music and he was thrilled to share the experience with you, he turned the volume knob until the voices of Iron Maiden sounded like a gentle lullaby.

He comes over to the bed and straddles your waist, his lower half resting comfortably on yours. He drops the oil on the bed and presses his hands on your clothed shoulder blades before adding a bit of pressure.

Your eyes slip closed as you let out a grateful sigh and start to feel your body relaxing.

“Feel good, baby?” His voice matches the ambiance of the room and you melt further into the soft comforter below you.

“So good, Eds,” you words are slow.

He pushes the palms of his hands into the knots around you shoulders, knowing exactly how to touch you to loosen them. You suck in a sharp breath as he pushes down on a particularly tight knot but when the tension ebbs away moans slip past your lips.

“There we go, sweet girl,” he leans down and kisses your shoulder before lowering his hands to the hem of your shirt and slipping them underneath, you moan at the skin-to-skin contact and arch your back slightly

He rubs circles into your lower back while being gentle around your spine and you all but purr at his affections.

He’s fully hard in his boxers and every time he leans forward he presses his bulge further into the curve of your ass, if he looks hard enough he can see a wet patch where his precum has stained, but his arousal is an afterthought at the moment.

He lifts your shirt from your body and unclasps your bra before dropping it onto the slowly forming pile of clothes besides the bed. He readjusts his cock, grunting at the touch, before grabbing the baby oil.

He rubs the slick liquid between his hands to warm it up before starting at your waist, he massages the skin with expert fingers, he’s always been good with his hands and he’s a quick learner so he knows exactly where to touch to get a reaction.

He presses his fingers deep into the knots on your back, soaking in every moan, gasp and intake of breath you make, his cock starting to ache more and more as time goes on.

When he’s reached the upper half of your back he slides his hands down and rubs some oil into the side of your breasts, his touch starting out innocent enough but quickly changing into something more.

He brings his hands underneath your form, you lift up a tad so its easier for him, and he cups your tits, his chest flush against your back as he massages the soft skin.

“Want me to turn over?” you bite your lip and clench your thighs, a movement that doesn’t go unnoticed by Eddie.

He presses his forehead against your spine, just below your neck, and kisses the warm skin, “no, baby,” he licks up to the nape of your neck and places a gentle kiss, the action causing a shudder to wrack your body, before pulling back.

He pinches your nipples, making sure to graze his nails over the nubs as he brings his hands out from under you.

You let out a small sigh, laced with disappointment but that doesn’t last long, he slides lower before kneeling over your legs and removing your jeans, it’s a little bit of a tug-o-war with the material but eventually they, along with your panties, join the rest of your clothes on the floor.

He squirts more oil onto his palms before grabbing two big handfuls of your ass, you let out a shocked cry, slightly muffled by your head buried in your arms, which makes Eddie huff out a laugh.

He massages lower taking care not to tickle you too much, the temptation is there but he doesn’t want to change the mood, enjoying the sensuality of the evening, and digs his fingers into the meat of your thighs, presses down and pulling until you’re nothing but a moaning mess.

He slides his hands upwards and continues the action on your asscheeks, unable to resist leaning down a planting a kiss on each one, you smile into you arm at the feeling.

When he takes note of the small movements of your hips grinding down against the mattress he takes that as an invitation to move this to the next part.

He presses his clothes cock against the curve of your ass and slowly pumps his length, a breathily sigh of his name escapes your lips as your movements become a little more noticeable.

He spreads your cheeks apart and gets an eyeful of your puckered hole before looking further down and seeing your pussy, arousal coating your folds and making your thighs sticky.

He pulls your ass up and leans over to grab a pillow, his pillow, and places it under your hips as he moves his hands down and spreads your pussy lips with his thumb until your hole is in full view, he leans over and dribbles his spit, it landing more on your back entrance before sliding down into your exposed pussy.

You let out an obscene moan and Eddie blows cold air over your fluttering hole, making you grind down against the pillow.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he moans as he spreads your slick around and fingers your clit.

“Eddie,” you whine, desperate for something inside you, slightly grinding back against his hand. 

“My cock is the only thing going in this pussy tonight, princess,” he promises, accentuating his words with a thrust of his length against your ass.

“Fuck me then,” you groan, starting to get impatient.

“Don’t be a brat,” he brings his hand down on your left asscheek, watching as the flesh jiggles slightly.

You cry out and drive your hips forward against the pillow, “sorry, daddy,” you moan, “just want you inside me.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he leans in and kisses your lower back before slipping his cock out of his boxers.

He uses the hand that’s coated in both your arousal and the baby oil to slick up his cock before he fucks his hard length deep into your pussy.

“Ah, fuck!” The burn from the stretch doesn’t even come close to the overwhelming sense of pleasure, in fact the sting only adds to it.

He sets a brutal pace, hands holding your hips in a grip that’s likely to bruise as he snaps your hips back to meet his thrusts.

Eddie is so in tune with your body that he knows it’s wants and needs better then you do, he knows all you need now is to be fuck like a whore.

You squeeze the pillow below your head between your hands, stuttering out curses and whimpers as you fight to catch your breath, Eddie lands another slap to your ass before leaning forward and pushing all his weight into you.

The air leaves your lungs and with Eddie fully on top of you you’re momentarily unable to suck air back into your body, your clit starts to throb as your chest tightens and grey spots dance along your vision, but they’re gone as quickly as they appear when Eddie sits back, taking up his previous position.

You cough and splutter as you lungs work in overdrive to refill your body with air, Eddie’s hand rubbing soothing circles on your upper back is a stark contrast to the harsh pace of he’s created.

“There you go,” he encourages, sounding breathless himself, “good girl.”

He slows down but fucks into you harder, your eyes roll into the back of your head at the squelching sound your pussy makes everytime he bottoms out.

“Almost there, daddy,” you mewl, body exhausted.

“Me too, princess,” he confirms, “gonna fill this pussy up, make you full with my cum.”

You nod and clench around his length, the movement causing his pace to stutter slightly before he recovers.

He leans over you again but doesn’t push too hard and wraps a hand around your chest, pulling you more into him as he takes a handful of your tit and squeezes, he slides his other hand beneath you and pinches your clit, the motion causing you to cry out as you’re caught off guard by your climax.

You shake in his hold, your body slightly thrashing against his as the world goes slightly dark and silent around you.

You can still hear Eddie as he fucks into you but it’s like you’re under water, the sounds seeming distant and muffled.

You didn’t know how long you lay there in a foggy haze but you’re brought back to your senses as you’re gently turned on your back, a whimper leaving your lips at the movement.

“Come back to me, princess,” his voice is getting closer and you subconsciously reach out for him, “I’m right here, sweetheart.”

His voice is no longer distant and you fight to pry your eyes open so you can see the handsome boy you’ve fallen in love with, overcome with a sense of neediness.

“Ed-die,” your voice cracks but a look of relief washes over his face.

“There you are,” he smiles and places a quick kiss to each cheek, “how are you feeling?”

That’s a good question really, you’re feeling weightless, like if Eddie let go you’d float away but your head isn’t working well enough for you to say that so you settle with, “light,” a smile gracing your face.

“Good,” he nuzzles his nose against yours and starts to press soft kisses all over your face.

Within minutes you feel gravity doing it’s job as the heaviness returns, not a bad heavy but heavy.

You let out a small giggle and gently push at Eddie’s face and he takes that reaction as a good sign as he starts to press kisses against your neck. He’s only seen you fall into subspace on two other occasions so it’s still new to him, but it’s not unwelcome.

When he pulls back you realise that he’s no longer inside you and his cock is softening against his thigh.

You look at the muscle with a small frown and he chuckles as he pokes your cheeks, “why so sad, baby?”

“Did I ruin it for you?” You can’t help the little sniffle you let out, feeling unbelievable selfish that you ruined his climax.

He huffs a laugh and reaches down to run his fingers between your folds, you let out a hiss as he scoops the sticky substance onto his fingers and brings them up so you can see. His fingers glisten with his cum and he smiles at your blush.

You lean forward and suck his fingers into your mouth, cleaning the digits thoroughly with your tongue.

Eddie kisses your forehead and cuddles you to his chest, allowing you to rest for a moment before trying to corral you into a shower.

#stranger things #my writing #eddie munson #joseph quinn #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #kinktober #eddie munson x f!reader

[princessmadelines]

ANNELYSE GELMAN; from ' the pillowcase ' in everyone i love is a stranger to someone.

ARSONIST’S LULLABY ↳ a house of the dragon fanfic

just tagging a few mutuals (let me know if u want to added or removed!! sorry in advance): @samwilsonns @misskatiewrites @kingsroad @kingsmakers @toilandtroubled @hiddenqveendom @darkwolf76

#fic: arsonist's lullaby #oc: danae #gif #mads gifs

[artemisocs]

Full Name: Aemarys Targaryen

Nicknames: N/A

Title: Arsonist’s Lullaby

Fandom: House Of The Dragon

Face Claim: Henry Cavill

Sexuality: (tentatively) Queer

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Element: Earth

Soul Type: The King

Main Trope: Heroic Bastard

Age: 30

Myers Briggs Type:

Hogwarts House: Gryffindor

Love Interest: TBD

Important Relationships: Jaesella Targaryen (oc), Viserys Targaryen, Daemon Targaryen, Rhaenyra Targaryen, Jaehaerys Targaryen, Alysanne Targaryen, Aemon Targaryen, Baelon Targaryen, Alyssa Targaryen, Maegelle Targaryen, Vaegon Targaryen, Daella Targaryen, Saera Targaryen, Viserra Targaryen, Gael Targaryen

Quote: And I’d call you Atlas but he wasn’t given a choice to hold the stars; you were

Theme Song: Soldier, Fleurie

Plot Summary: The Bastard Prince of Westeros, Aemarys Targaryen had never wanted his father’s crown. His loyalty had always been to his family and his king, and to his last remaining sister above all. As the last trueborn child of King Jaehaerys, Princess Jaesella had an even stronger claim than her half brother, but she knew that a girl could not claim her father’s throne. Until Viserys names Rhaenyra as his heir, challenging that long held belief. Almost instantly, whispers begin to rise up across Westeros. The One True Queen, they said, Jaehaerys’ true heir. Still, with House Targaryen more divided than ever, Jaesella was hardly eager to tear her family apart for her nephew’s throne. She can maintain the peace. She will maintain the peace, and Aemarys will protect her at every step. Until Daemon returns from his war, raising tensions to an all-time high. And when King’s Landing proves to no longer be safe for the young princess, it is up to Aemarys to do whatever it will take to protect her. Whether that be fleeing the capital or claiming her rightful throne.

Tag List: @chrissymunson​ @foxesandmagic @stardustocs

#ocappreciation #allaboutocs #fyeahgotocs #fyeahhotdocs #game of thrones oc #house of the dragon oc #oc: aemarys targaryen #fic: arsonist's lullaby #*mine #*intro #*graphic

[captainlordauditor]

okay on the fanfic paperwork post you mentioned a red hood identity porn fic in the tags can you link it pretty pleasseee 🙏🙏

It's titled Take Me Out it is SO good please enjoy it might be my favorite fic in this fandom

#answers #queerical #detective comics comics #arsonist's lullaby #fic recs #jaydick

[callsign-marlie]

Prologue. Part I. Part II. Part III. Part IV. Part V. Part VI. Part VII. Part VIII. Part IX. Part X. Story Content Warning: Rate M for mature content (minors DNI!!!) including but not limited to: mentions of drug use/smoking, alcohol consumption, explicit sexual scenarios, angst that will make your head spin and more to add a/n: ALRIGHT HERE WE GO! Time to introduce you guys to Misha and the fam. I can't wait to share this with you all &lt;3 *Italics are ASL passes between Ice and Misha Table of Contents

Part I: 0-dark-thirty

*three years later*

Misha pulled her knees further under her hoodie, covering her entire body in the warmth of the fleece. It was particularly chilly that morning as a cold front pushed through the beaches of Miramar. She sat on the back balcony of her family home with the ashtray next to her nearly overflowing with butts. She barely slept a wink last night. The sound of the waves and wind echoing the small set of chimes outside her bedroom had nearly pushed her past her breaking point. 

She took a drag of her cigarette, let the tar circle around her chest for a beat, and exhaled the smoke out of the side of her lip. She found counting how many waves it would take for a set to break more interesting than the outgoing storm clouds still raging with lighting. Fall rang in heavily that October. At least with the quick coming chill, she didn’t have to worry about the city slickers pulling overtime in their beach houses while attempting to spot the admiral’s infamous delinquent daughter. 

It’s been three whole years since she got her ass dragged back to North Island after her two year terror streak in Jacksonville. Her last arrest was the final straw for her father, Admiral Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky. He ordered his eldest daughter to return home to clean herself up after her third known criminal possession of a controlled substance. From the minimal information her mother would give her, he had pulled way too many strings to get her off on two and a half years of house arrest and a fuck ton of community service. Jail might have ended up having more freedom than her parent’s home.

Misha had remembered her mother sobbing when she stepped off the Boeing 747, pulling her daughter into a hug nearly immediately. She didn’t even have the strength to lift her arms. Misha’s gaze was heavy and dark. Keeping her eyelids open felt like a job. She had just dropped her head on her mother’s shoulder and let little sobs rack her frame. “Oh, my baby,” Sarah Kazansky whimpered, smoothing her manicured hair through her daughter’s scraggly strands. “I know. I know, you’re safe now.”

Misha wished she could tell her mother what she had been really crying about.

After her third cig of the morning, Misha finally extinguished it to enter back into her top floor bedroom. Moose, her service dog, was splayed outlandishly on her bed belly up and snoring quietly. A tiny grin rose at the sight, her body dipping the bed to rub his exposed tummy. The canine’s tongue lolled to the side with the whites of his eyes growing wide in surprise. Moose flopped back to his tummy to give a hot kiss across the front of his master’s eyelashes.

After one last pat on the head, she did her usual morning routine. She brushed her hair, her teeth, flossed, washed her face: the whole nine yards. Rehab had done good things for her, like set her up with a schedule and ‘check lists’ of things she should do to conquer her mornings. She slapped on a small amount of lip balm and lumbered down the stairs, still attempting to rub her insomnia from her eyes. Moose padded behind her in tandem.

“Morning Meesh,” her mother called from the kitchen, preparing family breakfast. “Was just about to head up there to make sure you were up.”

“Mmm, didn’t sleep well,” she replied, kissing each of her siblings on the head and pinching their shoulders affectionately. Sunny and Jude, both seventeen, groaned in unison at their oldest sister’s ministrations, the former sending the evil eye her way. 

“Seriously? We’re not 5 anymore,” Sunny drawled, rolling her perfectly trimmed blonde strands through her fingers while she doom scrolled through social media.

Perfect little Sunny, Homecoming queen, as well as the probable prom queen with the hot jock boyfriend that would make any family swoon. Her grades weren’t the greatest, but she was very good at brown nosing her way into any teacher’s heart to squeak out a few extra points to pass their classes. It was just too easy for her; she got whatever she wanted when she wanted it and no one even bothered batting an eyelash because ‘Sunny was an angel’.

“I’m trying to love you, brat,” Misha muttered under her sister’s hearing range, grabbing her favorite ‘world’s best pilot’ mug; the one with the broken handle. She did her best to stop her hand from shaking while pouring her coffee. “You make it so hard.”

“Hmm? You say something?” Sarah looked back over her shoulder. She must have been feeling extra generous, taking over Moose’s breakfast duties for her daughter. Misha stumbled over her words, sipping on her bare bitter liquid to think. Finally, an epiphany: “I-I said I should have got a card! I completely forgot it was Father’s day!”

“Father’s day isn’t until June,” Jude muttered, his finger searching across the page of the novel he was reading. “Try again, Meemee. It’s his birthday.” The nickname slid out of his mouth so fast, he flushed and turned his head away. Jude was a spitting image of Tom down to his squared jaw; a handsome young man for sure, but his true love fell to pens over planes. He was a gifted writer and academic and was often found late at night with his nose in a too-thick tome. His passions lay in digging through the troves of history to uncover their lost secrets. He was smart, something Misha wished she was more of.

“Just having you home is enough for your dad,” Sarah chimed, separating the pancakes on the serving dish. Sarah knew Tom prided all of his three children, but his oldest always held a special place in his heart. She was his first true love that he helped create; the first baby he held in his arms, rocked to sleep, fed, and played with. She remembered fondly when Misha was first born that he was so clumsy with her, fearing he would drop her, until Sarah showed him the ropes. From there, Misha never left his sight, nor his heart. Ice cold? Never. Not towards his baby girl.

She had done so well growing up and had made them so very proud. A straight A student, a class president and valedictorian of her high school. She was on her way through the ranks of the Navy like her father before her and he had beamed the brightest he had in years at her acceptance to Top Gun. All of that joy, all of that accomplishment, would come crashing down only 4 weeks later. The only mistake of her life would be the most costly.

Sarah frowned at the thought, quickly averting her eyes back to the simmering bacon. “Sunny, Jude, set the table, would you?”

Sunny rolled her eyes, but Jude bounded up at the command with an informal salute. The table was set quickly with the help of the twins just in time for Tom to make his slow, regal descent down the stairs. His breathing was ragged and his cough rattled in his chest. His mouth was tucked into the scarf he wrapped precisely around his neck while his still agile fingers gripped at the banister for balance.

Sunny nearly pranced towards her dad, kissed him on the cheek and led him to his spot at the head of the table. Misha helped her mother bring over the arrangement for that morning: pancakes, eggs, softened pastries and bacon for the kids. The admiral could only have soft things on account of his various throat surgeries and the spread were most of his morning favorites. Tom eyed all of his family and gave them a gentle smile. All returned except for one.

His eyes fell upon Misha, who’s too dark hair left a curtain between the two of them. Since she had come home, she never was able to truly look him in the eyes. He couldn’t read her and it frustrated him to no extent. He knew that her shame was monstrous, yet she still couldn’t give up that stubborn attitude that got her in this mess in the first place no matter how much he attempted to bring her back to the right direction. Tom motioned for the family to dig in, conversation starting around the table.

Tom waved at Misha, who watched his hand flutter into phrases. There was a big storm out there, did the surf swell overnight?

Misha dropped her fork, quickly fumbling back, Yes, it’s going to be choppy today. The wind seemed more hostile than usual. That was all that was said between them.

Sunny had started rambling on about prom and what she was going to wear to the event. She talked about her nails, her makeup, her hair: all down to the color of her dress. Jude pretended to listen, but was peeking at the book he held in his lap. Sarah and Sunny had a one sided conversation with Tom occasionally peering over to his eldest. She casually munched away at her breakfast, the tongs of her fork occasionally scraping across the porcelain plate while playing with a particularly interesting piece of egg.

Misha wasn’t listening, and he knew it from the start: she turned off her hearing aids before the conversations even began.

—

Tom had retired to his room to sort through old paperwork when he heard a knock at the door. He returned the knock, signaling to the person it was ok to come in. In came Misha, her eyes flicking between his face and a photo of her and him on her promotion to Lieutenant. She buckled down and stood at attention, her eyes straight ahead. “You wanted to see me, dad?”

Tom raised his eyebrow, his fingers lax. All this pomp and circumstance? For what? At ease, you’re never this formal. I just wanted to talk.

Misha relaxed as her father pointed to a chair. She took it gratefully, biting the inside of her lip. She hadn’t been this close to him since the car ride home from her last hearing. Tom let his hands rest on his stomach, closed his eyes, braced himself and began.  I needed to talk to you about work.

Work? It was Misha’s turn to raise an eyebrow. And what does that have to do with me?

Quite a bit. 

Tom took a moment, a deep breath, and a hacking cough took place of his signing. Misha cringed at the dry crackles erupting in her father’s lungs. She almost wanted to reach forward and rub her hand on his back. To comfort him. To soothe him. But she refrained. She let the episode pass on the edge of her seat.

Tom wiped a handkerchief across his mouth to pull away his spittle before having his icy blue eyes meet her molten emerald ones; a forced connection. There’s a mission. I need you on it.

Misha felt the color drain from her face. She stood instantly, shock apparent on her features. Her mouth floundered open, nearly screaming before she clamped it shut. Mom and the kids couldn’t hear this. ME? I’ve been honorably discharged! What do you mean you need me?

Tom pointed at the chair, jaw stern, telling her to sit down. Misha took the cushion this time a bit more wobbly in the knees. What the hell could she do to help? She wasn’t a pilot anymore. She was a felon, for fuck’s sakes! She couldn’t fly. There’s no way they’d trust her to do that.

She heard a whine and a singular scratch from the hallway. Moose very clearly did not like her so upset. He could smell her anxiety through the door.

You are being recalled, Tom shot back. Honorable discharge can be revoked to reinstate personnel only in the Navy. He paused, attempting to gauge her reaction, but saw only static behind her eyes. The country needs your brain. I need your brain. This is a serious threat.

Misha threw her head back, her hands covering her eyes. This couldn’t be happening. She huffed, her heart beating nearly out of her chest at the thought. She righted herself forward. It’s not like she had a choice. Her discharge was being revoked by the fucking admiral. What threat could be serious enough that you need me?

Uranium plant. We need fighters to blow it up.

She thought her heart stopped. So she really was going to fly? He was serious? As she was about to ask, Tom raised his hand to stop her imagination from running wild.

You’re not going up.

She was almost disappointed at the wave of relief that stuttered through her system. She should have known. So then what would I be doing?

Tom couldn't hide the grin under his scarf as he turned to his desk. He grabbed a folder and passed it to her, a bright red ‘CLASSIFIED’ printed on the front. The folder, though thin, felt heavy with the weight of consequences. If she opened it, she’d be in. There was no turning back. But god damn it all, her curiosity was eating her.

The manila opened and staring back at her was the face of her uncle, Captain Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell.

You’re going to teach.

---

end note: Ice and Misha are the only two in the family that know ASL fluently. The twins and Sarah pick up on phrases and know certain things, but they can't speak as fast as those two can, nor can they read it as quickly.

#arsonist's lullaby fic #rooster x oc #hangman x oc #kazansky oc #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #top gun ff