#AH THE HENRY CHAPTER..........

[altschmerzes]

🌹🌹🌹 for wriggle up on dry land pretty pretty please 🥺🙏

OF COURSE thank you :) :)

“Whoa.” All of Henry’s excitement comes up short, abruptly redirected by something he’s noticed that’s taken over his attention. It’s a kind of whiplash sometimes, watching how fast the entire laser-intensity of of a kid’s focus can be suddenly and completely flipped onto something else. “What’s wrong with your face? What happened?” Ted’s breath catches and his entire body goes rigid and still. Of all things, that’s what Henry has noticed, and of course he’s gone and asked about it, because he’s eight and he says things when he thinks them. Frozen in place with his throat suddenly closed up, Ted glances over at Jamie. The boy is looking back at Henry with a frozen look of his own, the easy half-smile he’d been wearing so far no longer easy but carved in stone. The split in his lip, though not very bad to begin with and certainly no worse now than it was this morning, seems even more obvious now than it had the first time Ted had seen it. It’s raw and painful looking, the small patch of bruising around it a bright and livid red. Of course Henry noticed it, and of course he asked, but the last person who asked Jamie about the injury got hell spat back at them, and Henry’s just a kid. He’s just a little kid, and he didn’t mean anything by it, but Ted doesn’t know if that’s going to mean anything to Jamie, who clearly hates even the most minor of attention drawn to the visible proof that he wasn’t Superman. He takes a breath and shifts, ready to step in and put an end to this whole interaction right now if he needs to, but Jamie reacts first. There’s a short, light huff of a laugh, and Jamie shrugs one shoulder. He relaxes into movement again and hunches down a little farther, putting both boys on the same level. “Had a little adventure,” he tells Henry, his voice lowered into a tone that makes it sound conspiratorial, like he’s letting Henry in on a secret just for the two of them. “Nothing to worry about. Happens all the time.”

[mortuarybees]

?????????????????????????

[boleynqueenes]

2100 words so far for new NT chapter.... wheee

[hail-satan6669]

WELCOME BACK B!TCHES!!

RELEASED MY WATTPAD STORY ABOUT OUR BELOVED JAMES PATRICK MARCH!!! NAME: THE WIDOW OF THE NIGHT - USER: awhoreforjamesmarch1 --- its only the first part but the other ones are already finished, don't worry! Gonna post something about it on here, like promo and that sh!t. whatever, feel free to go over and read it. No needs.

in biggest love, JD.

@vodka4201999 @luciferlangdon @bloody

[pitlanepeach]

From Eden | Chapter Four (4/8)

Oscar Piastri x Francesca Gold (OFC)

Summary — Francesca Gold is an introvert with a quiet life and a Youtube channel where she talks about books, drinks too much tea, and rarely ever shows her face. She prefers it that way - tucked into her London flat with her cat, Henry, and safely hidden behind a screen.

Oscar Piastri is a Formula 1 driver. Fast-paced, high-stakes, always on the move. He hasn't read a book in years, but he's watched every single one of Francesca's videos. Just for the sound of her voice.

Following her on Instagram was a moment of weakness. He didn't think she'd notice.

She did.

Chapter Warnings — Mentions of agoraphobia + severe social anxiety. A glimpse into a therapy session. Mentions of racing accidents. A tiny bit of angst, and then lots of fluffiness.

Notes — Yes. It happens. It finally happens. Our babies MEET. Also: I’m spoiling you all with these updates, but I’m writing like a mad woman atm. I wrote 3/4 of this chapter after work today.

Oscar’s face filled her screen, his hair mussed, white t-shirt hanging loose around his neck. The hotel lamp behind him cast a soft golden glow, and his voice was low and tired when he said, “Hey.”

Francesca smiled without meaning to, her laptop perched on her thighs and a mug balanced precariously on the arm of the sofa. “Hey. You sound half-asleep.”

He shrugged one shoulder, a lazy smile tugging at his mouth. “I’m not. Just tired. Long day.”

She hummed, shifting her laptop slightly. “You didn’t have to call me tonight. I know you’ve got another early start tomorrow.”

“I wanted to,” he said simply, like it wasn’t even a question. 

They fell into a lull, not uncomfortable. Oscar reached for something offscreen — probably a bottle of water — while Francesca scrolled back through the rough notes she’d been making for her book. Her screen glowed faintly, a scattered mess of plot threads, character traits, and one lonely bullet point that just said: Let them kiss, eventually.

“What are you working on?” Oscar asked, his voice soft, easy. His thumb rested against his cheek as he watched her like she was the most interesting thing on screen—not whatever was playing on Netflix in the background.

Francesca laughed quietly, the sound half-nervous, half-flattered. Her neck flushed warm. “The outline. For the book.”

“Ah, yes. The very-big-deal-but-trying-to-play-it-cool publisher thing.” His grin was lopsided and teasing, but his eyes were full of something else — something that made her stomach flutter. She’d told him about it the second Katie had left, unable to keep it to herself. That had been two weeks ago.

“Have you figured out the, uh, plot yet?” he asked, genuine curiosity softening the teasing.

“Sort of,” she said, chewing the inside of her cheek. “It’s messy right now. But I keep thinking about how to write two people who don’t make sense on paper. Like — different lives, different worlds. But they find this… perfect little space where things make sense. With each other.”

Oscar’s eyes held hers for a moment, steady. “That sounds good. Familiar.” 

She blushed, immediately looked back at her screen. “It’s just a first draft. I probably won’t like it by next week.”

He grinned. “Can I be the first to read it?”

“You don’t even read.” She shot back.

“I’d read anything if you were the one to write it.”

Francesca tried to hide the way her breath caught, but it was pointless — the screen was too intimate. Too real.

Oscar must have noticed. Instead of pushing, he leaned back against the headboard, stretching out those long limbs. “You’ve got your book. I’ve got my races. We’re both booked and busy for the next few months, huh?”

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “But… it feels a little less overwhelming when I’m talking to you.”

His brows lifted — like he hadn’t expected her to say that out loud.

She bit her lip. “Too much?” She was always second-guessing what she should and shouldn’t say to him. This whole getting to know each other while also maybe-flirting thing was still very new to her.

“No,” he said, his voice low, warm, and firmer than usual. “Not even a little.”

The screen flickered slightly as he shifted beneath the covers, yawning into his shoulder. “You keep working. I’m just gonna close my eyes and listen to you type. Don’t mind me.”

Utterly ridiculous.

She watched him through the screen, his face half-shadowed in the low hotel light, eyes still closed. For a minute, she just listened to the sound of his breathing, even and slow.

Then, before she could second-guess herself, she asked — quietly, like the question was delicate in her mouth, “If we’re both this busy… how are we going to make it work? The — uh — us meeting thing…”

Oscar’s eyes opened, slow and steady. He looked right at her — really looked. All the sleepiness disappeared in an instant.

“When you’re ready,” he said, voice steady and certain. “When you say the word — I’ll make it happen, Francesca.”

Francesca swallowed. “Even if it’s… months from now?”

“Yeah,” he said without hesitation. “Next week, six months. Next year.” He stressed the words. “When you’re ready, I’ll find the time. I’ll show up. I’ll be there.”

She blinked, unsure what to say, a warmth blooming somewhere deep in her chest. No one had ever spoken to her like that — like effort was the bare minimum, like she was worth rearranging a life for.

He smiled then, softer now. “You’re not something I’m just squeezing in whenever I have a spare five minutes, Francesca.”

She lowered her gaze to her laptop screen, biting back a ridiculous smile. “You really know how to mess with a girl’s focus, Piastri.”

His laugh was quiet, happy. “Good.”

—

Francesca sat cross-legged on her bed, laptop propped up on a stack of pillows. Sunlight filtered through the half-open curtains, painting soft, warm streaks across her duvet. Dr. Kapoor’s face filled the screen, serene and steady as always.

“You mentioned last time that you were ready to try something new,” she said gently, “something uncomfortable.”

Francesca nodded, fingers toying with the edge of the pillow she was hugging to her stomach. “Yeah,” she said. “I went for this, uh, stupid little walk. Literally just to the postbox at the end of my street and then straight back.”

Dr. Kapoor smiled. “A walk isn’t stupid.”

“No,” Francesca agreed with a small huff, “but it was hard. That’s what’s stupid.” She paused, then added, “I was out of the flat for ten minutes, maybe. No headphones. I looked at people.” Her voice dropped slightly, like saying it too loudly might unravel the fragile progress she’d made. “I didn’t turn around early. I wasn’t sick in my neighbours bush.”

Dr. Kapoor’s expression softened. “That’s a big deal, Francesca. How did you feel afterwards, once you got home?”

“Proud,” she admitted, wringing her hands together. “Also like I might never do it again.”

She laughed lightly. “You’ll do it again. Pride is a very strong motivator.”

Francesca hummed. “I journaled after. Like we talked about.”

“And what did you write?”

“That I was scared,” she said, looking down. “And I didn’t die. And I didn’t need anyone to come get me. I did it alone. It felt… weird. Good weird. Kind of.”

There was a long pause as Dr. Kapoor took that in. “That’s a great self-reflection. Honest.”

Francesca stared at a little chip in her nail polish. “I have spent years waiting for things to just magically get easier,” she said eventually. “Like one day, I’d wake up and it just wouldn’t be hard anymore. But that’s not going to happen, is it? Not even when I’m taking medication.”

“No,” Dr. Kapoor said, not unkindly. “It won’t. Not like that.”

The lump in Francesca’s throat tightened, but she nodded. She didn’t cry. That was something.

“Do you want to try something bigger this week?” Dr. Kapoor asked.

Francesca’s eyes flicked to the corner of the screen, to her own pale reflection. “Define bigger.”

“How would you feel about a short café visit? Ten minutes. Order something. Sit alone.”

Francesca blanched. “Oh god.”

“Trying is the goal,” Dr. Kapoor said warmly. “Not perfection. Not comfort. Just the attempt. You can always walk to the cafe and then go straight home. You could get a to-go drink. Or you could sit inside and just let yourself take up the space that you’re entitled to.”

Francesca gave a little shrug. “Would it be cheating if I wore my headphones and took a book with me?”

“Not cheating,” her therapist assured her. “That’s a very common coping mechanism. Just don’t let yourself  disappear into it. Try to take notice of the world around you, too.”

She managed a smile. It was small, but real. “Okay. Ten minutes. Book optional.”

Dr. Kapoor’s voice gentled again. “Is there anything else that you’d like to talk about?”

Francesca hesitated. Her thumb ran over the stitching on the pillow in slow, nervous circles. “I said yes to doing something,” she said finally. “To… meet someone new. Not soon, but eventually. I want to be braver by then.”

There was a quiet moment between them.

“Why?” Dr. Kapoor asked gently. “What is making you think that you need to be braver than you already are?”

Francesca blinked, her breath leaving her in a soft exhale. “I don’t know.”

“We’ve already talked about the book deal.” Dr. Kapoor recalled. “Taking on a project like that has taken a lot of bravery. Going for your walk? That took a lot of bravery too.” She pointed out. “I think, perhaps, you’re underestimating how much better you’re doing recently, Francesca. Six months ago, you couldn’t walk out of your front-door.”

Francesca stared at a small smudge on the screen. “I don’t notice it, when I’m doing well.” 

“Well,” Dr. Kapoor said, with an encouraging nod. “I’ve noticed it. I’m telling you. You are doing well.” 

Francesca smiled. 

— 

Francesca was curled up on her sofa, half-watching the podium interviews and half-scrolling through messages when Oscar’s name lit up her phone screen.

She found that she was smiling before she even answered.

He looked exhausted, glowing with sweat — post-race adrenaline still clinging to him. His cap was backwards, damp curls sticking out at the edges. “Hey,” he said, eyes bright. “Did you see that overtake?”

Francesca laughed. “Crofty lost his mind, Osc.” She stared at him, feeling ridiculously fond. “Yeah. I saw.”

Oscar beamed. “Felt pretty good. Not gonna lie.”

“You looked like you were flying out there,” she told him, her voice light. “Literally, at some points. I don’t understand how you can go around corners so fast and not just, like… tip over or something.”

Oscar huffed a quiet laugh. “Nah, only amateurs tip their cars on the apex.”

Francesca flushed. “Oh, shut up.”

There was a beat of silence, then his expression softened, dimples barely visible beneath the shadow of his cap. “Thanks for watching.”

She looked down, fingers tightening around her phone. “You don’t have to thank me. I like watching you.” She hesitated, then added with a small smile, “I might need to send a scathing email to Sky Sports, though. They don’t show you nearly enough on the main broadcast. I can’t deal with the onboard — makes me nauseous.”

He chuckled, low and warm, the sound curling around her ribs. “Yeah, I’d rather you didn’t ride onboard with me, honestly. If something happened—” He broke off suddenly, jaw tightening. His eyes flicked away like he’d said too much.

The air between them shifted.

Her stomach dropped. It was too easy to forget what he did. To pretend, for her own comfort, that it was safe. Controlled. Not dangerous.

She sucked in a slow breath, already feeling the panic creeping in at the edges. “I’ll call you later,” she said quickly, before he could say anything else. Before she could spiral.

Then she ended the call—like a coward.

— 

The paddock buzzed with celebration after Ferrari’s victory, but Oscar barely noticed. He moved quickly, head down, nodding absently at a few crew members as he passed. Lando’s driver’s room door was half-shut, muffled music playing from inside.

Oscar knocked once, then let himself in.

Lando looked up from where he was sprawled on the small couch, a half-finished protein shake in hand. “Alright, mate,” he said. “Don’t you have some post-race debrief to be at?”

Oscar shut the door behind him. “I need to talk to you.”

Lando sat up, brows lifting. “Francesca?”

Oscar nodded once. He didn’t sit — just crossed the room and leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. “She hung up on me. We were talking after the race. I said something—about my onboard camera, how I didn’t want her watching it, just in case something ever happened. She went quiet. Said goodbye. Ended the call.”

Lando frowned. “You think you freaked her out?”

“I know I did.” Oscar dragged a hand through his hair. “It’s so easy to forget how not-normal this sport is to normal people.”

Lando set his drink down. “Right. I get that. She’ll probably get used to it though, yeah? I’ve had girlfriends freak out about it too, but once they realise how rare the big crashes are—”

“This isn’t like that,” Oscar cut in, quieter now. “She’s not just someone I met last weekend.” He hesitated, then added, “She’s got her stuff. Anxiety — a lot of it. She doesn’t really leave her flat much. But she’s trying. She’s been pushing herself and… I think I went too far with it.”

Lando was quiet, thoughtful for once. “Okay. Give her space. Let her process. But don’t vanish on her. Send her a message. Let her know you’re still here. Let her decide when to come back in.”

Oscar let his head fall back against the wall with a dull thunk. “It’d be so much easier if she liked F1.”

“She doesn’t need to like F1,” Lando said with a small, knowing smirk. “She likes you.”

Oscar exhaled through his nose, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. He turned toward the door, hand on the handle, then paused. “You ever think this job makes it impossible to have a normal relationship?”

“All the time,” Lando said, not even pretending otherwise. “But look at Max. Lewis. Charles. They’ve all figured it out. Doesn’t mean it’s easy. Just means it’s possible.”

Oscar nodded once, not quite smiling, but something close. “Yeah. Alright.”

Then he left — already reaching for his phone.

—

iMessage — Oscar & Francesca 

Oscar: 

I’m sorry if I scared you. I didn’t even mean to say it. I’m so used to the people I care about being used to this stuff. I didn’t think. I’m sorry. 

Francesca:

pls don’t say sorry. im the one who should be sorry. i shouldn’t have hung up. i just felt myself getting worked up and that’s embarrassing, lol. i felt silly for it 

Oscar: 

You’re not silly. I promise. 

Francesca: 

um. quick question. when is your next bit of time off? 

Oscar: 

?

Francesca: 

i want you to come to london, osc

i need this to be real. 

Oscar: 

Wednesday?

Francesca: 

which wednesday? 

Oscar:

As in three days from now 

That Wednesday 

Francesca: 

Oscar.

Oscar: 

You said the words. No taking them back now. 

Send me your address. Don’t overthink this. 

I’ll call you in an hour, yeah? Just got a few more things to do before going back to the hotel

Francesca: 

okay <3

— 

iMessage — Francesca & Katie

Francesca: SOS actual sos mayday mayday girl down

Katie: …what happened did henry throw up on your laptop again

Francesca: OSCAR IS COMING TO LONDON TO MY FLAT ON WEDNESDAY AS IN. WEDNESDAY. IN THREE (3) DAYS. TO MY HOME. WHERE I LIVE.

Katie: OH MY GOD OH MY GOD I AM CALMLY SCREAMING

Francesca: i said the words like an idiot “i want you to come to london, osc” WHO EVEN AM I

Katie: i’m so proud of you

Francesca: i just stood there staring at my mirror for 11 minutes trying to decide if i should buy new sheets WHAT IF HE THINKS MY PILLOWS ARE WEIRD or what if henry bites him or what if i bite him

Katie: … fran.

Francesca: not in like a weird way i just i’m spiraling

Katie: you’re going to be FINE you like him he likes you he’s coming because he wants to not because your pillowcases are perfectly crisp

Francesca: but they’re not though they’re old and faded and they have little stars on them

Katie: which is exactly the kind of thing a soft boy in love would find charming now breathe make your outline order yourself some new teabags clean the bathroom and maybe light a candle

Francesca: i am lighting twelve candles. 

Katie: do not set your flat on fire before wednesday. he’s gonna fall in love with you, fran. just wait.

— 

iMessage — Oscar & Hattie

Oscar: Can I ask you something without you being annoying about it

Hattie: no promises x

Oscar: How do you know when something is real Like Not a fling Not a distraction But like. A real thing

Hattie: oh boy do i need to sit down for this

Oscar: I’m being serious There’s this girl Francesca I think I’ve mentioned her?

Hattie: only every time we talk lol go on

Oscar: She asked me to come to London To see her Like, properly Not just texting or FaceTiming anymore And I said yes. I am going. Wednesday

Hattie: wait THIS Wednesday?? as in three days??

Oscar: That’s the one We’ve both been busy. And now suddenly it’s happening. And I’m… I don’t know Excited. Nervous. Like I want to be good for her I want to make it easy

Hattie: Oof You’ve got it bad huh

Oscar: I think so She doesn’t have an easy time with people Or places She struggles with stuff But she’s let me in. Slowly And I just keep thinking If she’s brave enough to try I don’t want her to ever regret it 

Hattie: Wow Mum’s gonna lose her mind

Oscar: If you tell Mum before I do, I swear

Hattie: cross my heart but seriously you’re doing good and it is real because you care enough to ask all this just be gentle with her be yourself and don’t forget she has a cat

Oscar: I bought cat treats earlier Just in case

Hattie: I love that for you Let me know how it goes And if you panic and need someone to scream-text at, I’ll be on standby

Oscar: You’re a legend Thanks Hatt x

— 

iMessage — Oscar & Lando

Oscar: So I’m going to London on Wednesday

Lando: ok? for what? media? sim?

Oscar: To see Francesca

Lando: ??? WAIT LIKE SEE HER IN PERSON??

Oscar: Yes Lando In person With my eyes

Lando: bro it’s SUNDAY how did we go from “she hung up on me” to “I’m flying to a whole other country” in less than 2 hours

Oscar: She asked me to Said she wants this to feel real I told her to send her address and I’d be there

Lando: who are you and what have you done with my emotionally constipated teammate

Oscar: Growth x

Lando: ngl i’m kind of proud but also slightly terrified like you know you’re in deep, right?

Oscar: I’m aware Does it show

Lando: mate you just casually dropped that you’re making international travel plans because a girl said “I need this to be real” yes. it shows.

Oscar: I don’t want to mess it up

Lando: just be yourself and try not to talk about tyres during dinner or whatever

Oscar: Copy that

Lando: also tell her i can’t wait to meet her bring her to a race. eventually. when she’s ready

Oscar: One step at a time But yeah We’d have to work something out for her. To make it possible 

Lando: zac would sort something if u asked. i can always help out. she seems nice. worth it

Oscar: Thanks mate. She is 

—

Francesca stood in the middle of her living room, clutching a half-damp cloth and staring blankly at the coffee table she’d already wiped down three times. Henry was perched on the windowsill, tail flicking lazily, unimpressed by the chemical smell in the air. She’d cracked one of the windows open for him.

“Okay,” she whispered, mostly to herself. “Cool. This is better.”

The apartment smelled like fresh linen and lavender. She’d lit one of her aromatherapy candles — not a cheap supermarket one, but the fancy soy one she usually saved for special occasions or very bad days. The couch cushions had been fluffed. She’d washed her bedsheets, then panicked and washed them again. Just in case.

But now… now she didn’t know.

How was this supposed to go? 

Was he going to… stay in her apartment? Or was he just coming for the afternoon? She hadn’t asked, and he hadn’t said, and now it felt too late to bring it up without it being weird.

Would he eve want to stay with her?

Would that be too much? Too soon?

Francesca looked around her flat, and all she saw was a space that had, for a long time, been her sanctuary. Her bubble. Her little island of calm in a world that was too loud and too fast.

Letting someone into it — him, of all people — felt both right and utterly terrifying.

She moved into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and immediately closed it again. She didn’t even know what he liked. Was he a tea or coffee person? Did F1 drivers eat carbs? She only ate carbs.

“Get a grip,” she muttered, pressing her palms against her face. “It’s just Oscar.”

Still, her heart rattled against her ribs like it wanted to make a run for it.

She tried to shake it off — the nerves, the overthinking — but it clung to her like static. Taking a breath, she reminded herself of Katie’s advice from their last FaceTime: “Be more open. Talk to him when you start freaking out. He’ll appreciate it, and you’ll feel so much better for it.”

So, she reached for her phone. Hovered. Then typed — quickly, before she could spiral.

Francesca: hey, quick question. are you getting a hotel or do you want to stay with me? i totally don’t mind either way! just figuring out things out 

Her phone buzzed twenty minutes later — just as she was elbow-deep in laundry, holding a long-sleeved shirt like it had personally wronged her.

She wiped her hands on her joggers and grabbed the phone, pulse jumping.

Oscar: Hey, just boarding now — sorry for the delay. I’ve got a hotel booked, don’t worry. You don't need to worry about anything, actually. I never want you to feel pressured. We can do whatever feels right, okay? I’m just happy I get to see you.

Francesca stared at the screen, a strange pressure building behind her eyes. Relief, affection, nerves — all of it bundled up into one messy emotion that made her want to both laugh and cry.

She sat down on the couch, Henry immediately hopping up beside her and kneading at her thigh with his murder mittens.

Francesca: okay. thank you for being so normal about this (normal in a good way, not like, boring) also i am definitely spiralling a bit but trying to be chill about it. so you might be on your way to meet a full-blown anxious ghost x

Oscar: Lol You could be an actual ghost and I’d still like you I’ll text when I land x

She set her phone down again — more gently this time — and pushed down a girlish squeal. 

— 

Her phone rang again not long after Oscar’s message. She almost didn’t check it before answering — assuming it was Katie, maybe — but when she glanced at the screen and saw “Izzy (ugh)", her stomach sank.

She hesitated, thumb hovering. Then, stupidly, she answered.

“Francesca,” came the clipped voice, already laced with tension. “Mum wants to know if you’re going to bother coming in August, or if we should just stop asking.”

“I— I already told you that I probably won’t be able to make it,” Francesca said, already shrinking into herself.

Izzy sighed like she was exhausted. “It’s just rude, you know? You can’t keep isolating yourself and expecting everyone else to keep reaching out. I feel like we’re making all of the effort.”

Francesca said nothing.

“And honestly,” her sister continued, “you've turned yourself into some kind of influencer, and you post videos of yourself and pictures to thousands of people, but you can’t even make the effort to get over yourself and come to see us. Mum thinks you hate her.”

She felt the old heat behind her eyes, the way it always came — fast and uninvited. “What? No. Of course I don’t hate her. I’m just… I’m doing my best here, Izzy.”

“That’s not good enough forever, you know.”

The call ended five minutes later. It might as well have been one long exhale of shame.

Francesca sat for a while on the floor by the laundry basket, arms curled around her knees, trying not to cry. But Henry came to her again, head-butting her shin softly. And then she remembered: Oscar. On a plane, coming to see her. Choosing her. Wanting this.

She got up.

She wiped her face.

She washed her hands and re-tied her hair and changed into clean joggers. Then she took a deep breath and said to the empty flat, “he doesn’t get to meet that version of me today.”

Because maybe she couldn’t make her family understand her. But maybe she didn’t need to, not when someone else already seemed to — and liked her despite it all.

—

iMessage — Katie & Francesca

Katie: Hey, just checking in. How’s the heart rate? Has he landed yet??

Francesca: no idea. i think so? maybe? i’ve stress-cleaned everything. henry thinks i’m possessed or smth. also my sister called. so that was fun! but i’m… okay. i think. maybe.

Katie: Oh, babe. I’m so sorry. Do you want to talk about it? Or do you want me to say mean things about Izzy until you smile?

Francesca: i think i just needed to say it out loud to someone who gets it. i don’t want him to walk in and think i’m this emotional swamp of a person.

Katie: First of all, he won’t. Second of all, you’re allowed to be a little bit of a swamp. He likes you anyway. Third… you’re doing great. I’m so proud of you. Really.

Francesca: thank you okay. i’m gonna go stare at the door like a weirdo now

Katie: You got this ❤️ Call me later and tell me everything, okay? Even the awkward stuff.

Francesca: of course

— 

She heard the lift *ding* before she heard the knock.

The soft sound that made her stomach lurch.

Henry, traitorous and uninterested, didn’t even lift his head from the sunspot on the carpet.

Francesca stood in the middle of the living room, palms damp, jumper slightly too warm, and heart beating hard enough to echo.

Three gentle knocks. Measured. Like he wasn’t sure how loud to be.

She walked to the door before she could psych herself out.

And there he was.

Oscar, in a hoodie and a pair of loose sweatpants, hair slightly flattened and one hand gripping the handle of a duffle bag. He looked a little tired, a little travel-worn, and entirely too good.

He smiled, soft and a little unsure. “Hi, beautiful girl.”

She opened the door wider. “Hi.”

They stared at each other for a beat longer than necessary, until Oscar let out a breath and stepped inside. He didn’t touch her right away — just looked at her with that same warm focus she’d seen through every FaceTime screen.

“I didn’t know if I should hug you or—”

She stepped into him before he could finish, arms winding around his middle. He didn’t hesitate then — his duffle bag hit the floor and his strong arms encircled around her, sturdy and steady and real. She could feel his heart through his hoodie, fast like hers.

“Thanks for coming,” she mumbled, her voice catching.

He smiled into her hair, his hold on her tightening, and for a brief moment, she wondered how inappropriate it would be to ask him to never, ever let her go. “Thanks for letting me in.” He mumbled. 

They stayed there, tangled in the doorway, until Henry finally meowed in protest — as if to say shut the door, it’s cold — and Francesca laughed softly against his shoulder.

CHAPTER FIVE

[katabay]

MY DEAR VICTOR

“My dear Victor,” cried he, “what, for God’s sake, is the matter? Do not laugh in that manner. How ill you are! What is the cause of all this?”

“Do not ask me,” cried I, putting my hands before my eyes, for I thought I saw the dreaded spectre glide into the room; “he can tell. Oh, save me! Save me!” I imagined that the monster seized me; I struggled furiously and fell down in a fit.

Poor Clerval! What must have been his feelings? A meeting, which he anticipated with such joy, so strangely turned to bitterness. But I was not the witness of his grief, for I was lifeless and did not recover my senses for a long, long time.

This was the commencement of a nervous fever which confined me for several months. During all that time Henry was my only nurse. I afterwards learned that, knowing my father’s advanced age and unfitness for so long a journey, and how wretched my sickness would make Elizabeth, he spared them this grief by concealing the extent of my disorder. He knew that I could not have a more kind and attentive nurse than himself; and, firm in the hope he felt of my recovery, he did not doubt that, instead of doing harm, he performed the kindest action that he could towards them.

Frankenstein; or, the Modern Prometheus, Mary Shelley (CHAPTER 5)

ah, to be cared for! the unconditional depth and gentleness of it. also have you guys ever listen to the ost for the korean frankenstein musical. sometimes I think about how musical!victor uses his henry's (dupre in the musical, not clerval, but henry all the same) head for his creation. that's also an unconditional something!!

ngl I considered attempting a full bernie wrightson homage for this, but then I thought about how I like having fun and that would totally ruin my hands for the week and settled for drawing a bunch of lines until I got tired of drawing lines lmao

ko-fi⭐ bsky ⭐ pixiv ⭐ pillowfort ⭐ cohost ⭐ cara.app

[corendisguise]

Superman Unmasked & Unveiled

Chapter 1

Tom’s heart skipped a beat as the hotel elevator jolted to a stop. The small space, already feeling cramped with just him and the tall, broad-shouldered man beside him, suddenly felt even more confined. Henry Cavill—yes, *that* Henry Cavill—stood mere inches away, his presence almost overwhelming. Tom had seen him on the big screen, but up close, the actor was even more breathtaking, radiating an effortless charisma that made Tom’s mouth dry.

“Well,” Henry said, breaking the silence with a low, smooth voice that sent a shiver down Tom’s spine. “Seems we’re stuck.” His lips curled into a smirk, and his piercing eyes locked onto Tom’s, making it nearly impossible to look away. “Nice company, though.”

Tom swallowed hard, his brain struggling to formulate a response. “Uh, yeah. This is… unexpected.”

Henry chuckled, the sound deep and resonant, vibrating through the confined space. “Relax, it’s not the end of the world. We’ll be out of here soon enough.” He leaned casually against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, making his biceps bulge beneath the tailored suit jacket. “So, what brings you to this hotel? Business or pleasure?”

Tom’s mind raced. How did one respond to such a question from someone like Henry Cavill? “A bit of both, I suppose,” he finally managed, hoping his voice didn’t betray how flustered he was.

“Mmm, intriguing.” Henry’s gaze dropped briefly to Tom’s lips before returning to his eyes. “I like people who keep things interesting.”

The air between them thickened, and Tom could feel the heat radiating off Henry’s body. The elevator’s emergency lights flickered, casting an eerie glow over the space, but neither man seemed to notice. All Tom could focus on was the way Henry was looking at him, like he was sizing him up, teasing him without even trying.

“You know,” Henry murmured, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a silken tone, “elevators have a tendency to bring people together in ways they never expect.”

Tom’s breath hitched as Henry closed the gap between them, their chests brushing ever so lightly. Henry’s cologne invaded his senses, a heady mix of spice and something wild, undefinable. “Do you believe in fate, Tom?” Henry’s hand came up, his fingers brushing against Tom’s jawline, his touch warm and deliberate.

“I—I don’t know,” Tom stammered, his pulse racing. “Maybe. Sometimes.”

Henry’s smirk deepened, and he leaned in closer, his breath fanning over Tom’s lips. “Then maybe this is fate’s way of giving us a little time alone. Just the two of us.”

Before Tom could respond, the elevator creaked and groaned, signaling its return to life. The doors slid open with a ding, and Henry stepped back, his demeanor shifting instantly. Gone was the flirtatious tension, replaced by a charming, confident smile. “Well, that was exciting. Let’s continue this conversation somewhere a bit more comfortable, shall we?”

Tom hesitated, torn between the desire to follow Henry and the urge to flee. But the pull was too strong. Henry led the way down the hall, his gait smooth and commanding, until they reached his suite. The door clicked shut behind them, and the atmosphere changed again, becoming heavier, charged with unspoken intentions.

“Drink?” Henry asked, moving toward the mini bar, his movements fluid and graceful.

“Sure,” Tom replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

Henry handed him a glass of whiskey, his fingers brushing against Tom’s in a fleeting yet electric touch. They sat on the plush couch, the tension between them simmering, ready to boil over. Henry’s knee brushed against Tom’s, a deliberate move that sent a jolt of electricity through him.

“You’re nervous,” Henry observed, his voice low and husky. “Why? I thought we were having a good time.”

Tom laughed nervously, taking a sip of his drink. “It’s not every day you get stuck in an elevator with Superman.”

Henry chuckled, shaking his head. “Ah, I see. My reputation precedes me.” He leaned in closer, his breath warm against Tom’s ear. “Let me show you that I’m much more than just a superhero on film.”

And then, without warning, Henry kissed him. It wasn’t a gentle peck; it was a full-on, devour-you-alive kiss that left no room for doubt. Tom’s glass tumbled from his hand as he responded instinctively, his hands gripping Henry’s shoulders for dear life. The actor’s lips were firm yet pliant, his tongue sliding against Tom’s in a sensuous dance that made his head spin.

As the kiss deepened, Tom became aware of something strange. Henry’s face felt… off. It wasn’t unpleasant, but there was a slight give, a flexibility that didn’t quite align with how human skin should feel. Tom pulled back slightly, his curiosity piqued. “Your face… it feels different.”

Henry’s eyes flashed with something unreadable, but his smile remained. “Does it now? Interesting.” He leaned in for another kiss, more intense this time, his hands roaming over Tom’s body with a possessiveness that bordered on aggressive. Tom’s own hands couldn’t resist exploring, sliding across Henry’s broad shoulders, down his sculpted back.

But then, as their bodies pressed closer, sweat forming between them, Tom felt it again—that odd shift in Henry’s face. His cheeks seemed to change shape ever so slightly, almost as if they were moving independently. Curiosity, mingled with arousal, grew too strong to ignore.

Tom broke the kiss, his fingers tracing the edges of Henry’s face. “What’s going on here?”

Henry’s breath hitched, his chest heaving. “You’re very observant, aren’t you?”

Tom’s fingers found Henry’s nose, and to his astonishment, it moved slightly under his touch, as if made of some kind of flexible material. He pulled gently, and the skin lifted, revealing a faint seam. With a gasp, Tom pulled harder, and Henry moaned softly, his body tensing. “Fuck,” Henry muttered, his voice rough. “Don’t stop.”

Encouraged, Tom moved to Henry’s ears, tugging experimentally. They shifted too, yielding to his touch. The entire face seemed to be composed of something far from human, yet so lifelike it was uncanny. Tom’s heart pounded wildly as he gripped a handful of Henry’s hair and pulled upward. His eyes seemed to sing down in his face and the eyeholes were stretched. He pulled harder and Henry was not resisting. He was rubbing his groin region and moaned loudly. So Tom continued to pull and moved the obvious mask to both side to pull it free. The wet slurping sound now was unmistakable as the mask peeled away slowly, revealing a sweaty man entirely different from the Hollywood icon. He had short blonde hair and short stubbles as a beard.

Tom’s breath caught in his throat. The man before him was handsome, yes, but entirely different from the towering, chiseled figure of Henry Cavill. His chest heaved with labored breaths, and his blue eyes locked onto Tom’s with a mixture of vulnerability and raw desire. Drenched in sweat, his skin glistened under the soft hotel room lights, and his arousal was evident—his cock straining against the fabric of his boxer briefs.

“You’re not Henry,” Tom said, his voice low and barely more than a whisper. The words felt surreal, as if he were narrating someone else’s dream.

The man gave a wry smile, his hand reaching up to wipe the sweat from his brow. “No,” he admitted, his voice smooth but less commanding than Henry’s. “I’m Steven. And you just almost ripped my very expensive mask.” He chuckled nervously, though there was no mistaking the heat in his gaze. “Please don’t scream or call security. I promise I’m not dangerous.”

Tom stared at him, processing the situation. Steven’s voice now sounded completely different. His heart was still pounding, but it wasn’t out of fear. No, it was something else—something primal and intoxicating. The revelation that this entire encounter had been a facade only heightened the intensity of the moment. He glanced down at the mask in his hands, now slick with sweat and a little makeup, and then back up at Steven. His curiosity was insatiable.

“Why?” Tom asked, his voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside him. “Why do you impersonate people like that?”

Steven shrugged, running a hand through his slightly wavy brown hair. “It’s my job. Sometimes celebrities can’t make appearances, so they hire me to step in. I’ve got a talent for mimicry, and… well, I guess I enjoy playing dress-up. It’s fun to be someone else for a while.” His lips quirked into a sheepish grin, but his eyes remained focused on Tom. “But I didn’t expect this. I mean, I wasn’t planning to… you know. Pull off the mask mid-seduction.”

Tom’s lips twitched into a smile, and he found himself oddly fascinated by Steven’s openness. “So, you’re saying you weren’t planning to let me see the real you?”

Steven shook his head, his breathing steadying. “Not unless things got… really serious. Which, honestly, I didn’t think would happen tonight. But here we are.” He paused, his expression softening. “And now you know. So, what happens next? Are you going to tell everyone? Or…” He trailed off, his body language becoming guarded.

Tom recognized something and moved closer, his fingers brushing against the edge of Steven’s neck. There was now a small edge like he was wearing a skin over his skin. Before this edge was somehow fused to the neck part of the mask. It was warm and damp, imbued with the scent of their shared excitement. “Or what?” he asked, his tone teasing.

Steven’s eyes darkened, and he leaned in, his breath hot against Tom’s ear. “Or maybe you want to keep this our little secret. Maybe you’d like to… explore this further.” His hand snaked around Tom’s waist, pulling him flush against his body. Despite the absence of Henry’s exaggerated muscles, Steven’s own physique was solid and appealing, and Tom couldn’t help but respond to the invitation.

“Explore how?” Tom murmured, his lips brushing against Steven’s neck as he spoke. He pressed his lips to the edge and discovered it with his tongue.

Steven groaned softly, his grip tightening. “Like this,” he said, his voice thick with urgency. With one swift motion, he grabbed the hem of Tom’s shirt and yanked it over his head, tossing it aside. Tom’s lean, athletic frame was revealed, and Steven’s hands roamed over his chest, mapping every inch with deliberate attention. “You’re beautiful,” Steven breathed, his fingertips tracing the outline of Tom’s nipples, causing them to tighten beneath his touch.

Tom shivered, his body responding instinctively to Steven’s ministrations. He hadn’t expected this level of intimacy after such a bizarre revelation, but there was no denying the electric tension between them. “You’re not so bad yourself,” he replied, his voice laced with amusement and desire.

Steven grinned, his confidence returning as he began to kiss and nibble at Tom’s collarbone. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” he teased, his hands sliding lower to cup Tom’s ass. Toms hand wandered up to Steven’s neck and he pressed a finger inside the gab at his neck. Steven was wearing a kind of skinlike suit obviously. So his muscle were also fake. With new excitement and recurrent erection he presses his whole hand inside this gap. Steven let out an intensive moan and a shiver runs down to Tom’s spine. It felt incredible wet and warm underneath. It felt like intruding into Steven’s body. Steven opened his eyes. *Now, about that muscle suit…”

Tom’s pulse quickened as Steven squeezed his cheeks appreciatively, and he felt a surge of anticipation. “What about you wearing it now?* he asked, his voice cracking slightly.

Tom nodded absently, Stevens eyes gleaming with mischief. “And the mask too. I think you’d make a great Henry Cavill.”

Tom hesitated for a moment, then laughed under his breath. “God, I must be insane,” he muttered, but there was no real doubt in his mind. The idea of stepping into the role of the Hollywood hunk was intoxicating, and the thought of wearing that mask—this time over his own face—was almost too thrilling to resist.

Without another word, Tom knelt down and began unzipping the muscle suit at Steven’s back, after Steven had shown him the hidden zipper. Steven had to get rid of his trousers and shorts. The material of the suit was sticky with sweat, and the faint chemical smell of latex mingled with their musky scents. Carefully, he peeled the suit away from Steven’s body, revealing the man’s true form underneath. The suit was torso and legs with areas exposing his real penis and butthole. Steven wasn’t as muscular as Henry’s image had suggested, but his physique was still impressive, and Tom couldn’t help but admire the way his toned muscles flexed as he moved.

Once the suit was fully removed, Tom stood and held it up, inspecting it closely. The craftsmanship was extraordinary, and he marveled at the way the contours of the muscles had been perfectly replicated. “This is incredible,” he said, his voice filled with awe.

Steven smirked, leaning back against the couch. “Glad you approve. Now, why don’t you try it on?”

Tom nodded, his excitement growing as he stripped out of his remaining clothes. Naked, he stepped into the muscle suit, feeling its snug fit as he pulled it up his legs and over his torso. He only struggled a little with his erected penis. The material clung to his skin, and he could feel the residual warmth of Steven’s body within it. The remaining sweat helped him to pull up the suit. When he reached the zipper at the back, Steven stepped forward to assist, fastening it securely behind him. He felt like becoming part of Steven at this moment.

Next came the mask. Tom picked it up, its silicone surface cool to the touch, and positioned it over his own face. As he smoothed it into place, the familiar slide slurping sound when adjusting it echoed in the room, and soon his features were completely concealed. The transformation was complete, and Tom couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. He watched himself in the near mirror and his erection was still strong, coming out of a sheet in the suit.

When he looked up, Steven’s eyes were wide with admiration. “Damn,” Steven muttered, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. “You’re perfect.”

Tom smiled, his new features shifting easily under his control. He felt the residing warmth and the sweat of Steven around him. It felt all his senses. It was like being completely absorbed by this strange man. “So, what now?” he asked, his voice altered slightly by the mask’s design.

Steven’s grin was predatory as he stepped closer, his hands reaching out to caress the newly enhanced muscles of Tom’s chest. “Now,” he said, his voice low and husky, “we fuck.”

Steven’s hands roamed over Tom’s chest, his fingers tracing the contours of the muscle suit. The material was smooth but clingy, accentuating every defined line and curve that Tom’s body now possessed. Steven’s touch was electric, sending shivers down Tom’s spine despite the mask hiding his expression. The heat between them was palpable, a tangible force that seemed to fill the room.

“You feel incredible,” Steven murmured, his voice low and filled with admiration. His eyes locked onto Tom’s, studying the way the mask transformed his features into those of Henry Cavill. The illusion was stunning, and Steven couldn’t help but marvel at how seamlessly Tom had slipped into the role.

Tom smirked, feeling the confidence surge through him as he flexed his enhanced muscles. “You like what you see?” he asked, his voice slightly distorted by the mask but still carrying that unmistakable air of authority.

Steven chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that made Tom’s heart race. “Oh, I like it all right,” he replied, his hands moving lower, sliding over the tight fabric of the suit to grip Tom’s ass. He squeezed firmly, eliciting a groan from Tom, who leaned into the touch.

“Fuck,” Tom muttered, his breath quickening as Steven’s hands continued their exploration. The sensation of being touched through the suit was thrilling, making him feel powerful and desired in a way he never had before. He could feel the sweat starting to form underneath the suit, mixing with the residual warmth of Steven’s own perspiration.

Steven’s lips curled into a wicked smile as he stepped back, pulling Tom with him. “Let’s move this to the bed,” he suggested, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Tom nodded eagerly, following Steven across the room to the large bed that dominated the space. The mattress was soft and inviting, and Tom couldn’t wait to sink into it. As they reached the bed, Steven pushed Tom gently backward, guiding him down onto the surface.

Tom fell back onto the mattress, his enhanced body landing with a soft thud. The muscle suit felt even tighter now, constricting his movements slightly but adding to the thrill of the moment. Steven climbed onto the bed after him, straddling Tom’s legs and leaning down to kiss him passionately. With his tongue he discovered all the little holes in the mask and slides with it under the mask tasting the mixed sweat of both guys.

The kiss was extremely intense, Steven’s lips pressing repeatedly hard against Tom’s masked face. The material of the mask muffled the sensation somewhat, but the heat and pressure were undeniable. Tom moaned into the kiss, his hands reaching up to grip Steven’s shoulders. Steven bit into the lips of the mask and pulled a little until letting it snap back in place with a smacking sound.

Steven broke the kiss, pulling back slightly to look down at Tom. “You ready for this?” he asked, his voice dripping with lust.

Tom nodded, his breathing heavy as he looked up at Steven. “Fuck yes,” he replied, his voice filled with determination.

With that, Steven moved, positioning himself between Tom’s legs and lining himself up with Tom’s erection. The muscle suit was tight, but there was a gap between his butt cheeks where Steven couldn’t make room for himself. He spit in his hands and wipes it around Toms hole. He pressed forward, entering Tom slowly but surely, reveling in the tightness and heat that surrounded him.

Tom groaned loudly, the sensation overwhelming him. The muscle suit added an extra layer of intensity, making every movement more pronounced and exciting. He could feel Steven’s cock inside him, filling him up completely, and it was everything he had hoped for.

Steven began to move, thrusting in and out of Tom with slow, deliberate strokes. Each movement was calculated, designed to maximize the pleasure for both of them. Tom’s hands clenched tightly around Steven’s waist, holding on as the sensations built inside him.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Steven muttered, his voice strained with effort. His hips snapped forward with each thrust, driving deeper into Tom with every movement. He grabbed Tom’s artificial chest with both hands, massaged it and pulling strongly at the suit so that Tom was lifted even a little.

Tom’s head lolled back against the pillows, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. The mask was starting to feel restrictive, the heat and humidity building up inside it making it somehow difficult to breathe. But he didn’t care; the pleasure was too great, too overwhelming to worry about anything else.

Steven’s pace quickened, his thrusts growing faster and harder as he neared his climax. Tom could feel the tension building in Steven’s body, the way his muscles tensed and relaxed with each movement. It was exhilarating, knowing that he was the one driving Steven to this point.

“Almost there,” Steven growled, his voice low and guttural. His hips slammed into Tom’s with brutal force, the impact reverberating through both of their bodies.

Tom’s own orgasm was close, the pressure building in his groin as Steven continued to pound into him. He could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter, waiting for the release that would send him over the edge.

“Come on,” Steven urged, his voice sharp and commanding. “Give it to me.” With saying this he bent forward and grabbed the hair of the mask. He pulled hard upward without caring to destroy the mask. The entire face seemed to stretch unlimited just hold by Tom’s chin. The eyeholes just showed empty spots. Tom’s heart pounded wildly. The slurping sound was strong as the mask peeled away like a wip, revealing the sweaty face which showed pure extasy.

Those impressions were enough to push Tom over the edge. With a loud cry, he came, his body convulsing around Steven’s cock as wave after wave of pleasure washed over him. The sensation was indescribable, pure ecstasy coursing through his veins as he rode out the waves of his orgasm.

Steven followed soon after, his own release hitting him hard as he buried himself deep inside Tom. He groaned loudly, his body trembling as he emptied himself into Tom, the sensation of release almost too much to bear.

They lay together for a moment, catching their breath and basking in the afterglow of their passion. The room was silent except for the sound of their heavy breathing, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex.

Finally, Steven pulled out of Tom, sitting back on the bed and looking down at him. “Damn,” he said, his voice filled with awe. “That was… something else.”

Tom grinned, touching his own muscular body. “Yeah,” he agreed, his voice still slightly breathless. “It really was.”

Steven leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Tom’s head. “You did good,” he said, his tone warm and affectionate. “Very good.”

Tom smiled, feeling a sense of pride wash over him. He had taken on the role of Henry Cavill and had done it well, giving Steven the experience of a lifetime. It was a surreal feeling, one that he knew he would never forget.

Steven stood up, stretching his arms above his head. “Alright,” he said, his voice light and cheerful. “Let’s get you out of that suit.”

Tom nodded, sitting up and preparing himself for the process of stripping off the muscle suit. As Steven helped him out of the suit, Tom couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness at the thought of losing the persona he had just inhabited. It had been exhilarating, stepping into someone else’s shoes and experiencing life from a different perspective.

But as Steven peeled the muscle suit off him, exposing his own body once again, Tom realized that the experience wasn’t over. He grabbed the mask and kissed the empty mouth gently entering his tongue into it. There were more masks, more suits, more opportunities to explore and transform. And with Steven by his side, he knew that the possibilities were endless.

to be continued…

[notablenotions]

The Masks of Nobility-Chapter 5

Hans practically skipped across the courtyard, light on his feet as if heaven itself had kissed his brow. He could scarce contain himself — his wife, the Lady Jitka, had no romantic inclination. None. It was a miracle. That meant no jealousy, no objections, no interference with his time with Henry. Sweet, blessed fortune! Yet even in his elation, a small knot of confusion lingered. How could she feel nothing? Had she not looked upon him? Hans Capon — the most desirable bachelor in all of Bohemia — women wept for the mere chance to be near him. It was nigh unthinkable someone might find him unappealing.

“Hans!” Henry’s voice rang behind him, footsteps quick on the cobblestones. “Where are you going? Christ, Hans… Hans, are you well?”

Hans halted, turning on his heel with a grin that could shame the devil. The concern in Henry’s voice tugged at something deep in his chest — a pull he would never escape, nor would he want to.

“More than well, my dear Henry. Better than well. This…” His eyes glinted with mischief, the threads of a scheme already weaving in his mind. “This could work.”

He set off toward Jitka’s chambers, unbothered by the stale air of sweat and wine lingering in the corridors. The maids had yet to clean, still tending to the wreckage left by the revelry. Hans slipped inside the room without hesitation, waving Henry in behind him. The poor fool looked as though he’d walked into the gallows.

Henry lingered at the doorframe, rigid as a lance. Hans glanced over his shoulder, lips twitching.

“Come now, don’t be shy. You’ve seen a lady’s chambers before.”

“That’s just it,” Henry muttered.

Hans snorted. “Pah. She’s my wife, and I don’t give a damn. You’re mine, Henry — not hers.”

Henry sighed and stepped inside, voice dropping as if they were lads sneaking into a brothel. “Hans… what are we doing?”

Hans raised a finger, playfully stern, like a tutor with a favored pupil. He made a mental note to explore that role with Henry later — perhaps with silk ribbons and a cane.

“You see, dear Henry, a virgin bleeds. And nobles — old hens and peacocks — they like to check. Proof and all that nonsense.”

He pulled back the coverlet, surveying the pristine sheets. “She’s clever, but innocent. And this…” He turned, stepping close — too close. Henry could feel his breath, warm and heady. Hans’s fingers slid down, brushing Henry’s hip, easing to the dagger at his belt. Slow. Purposeful. Possessive.

He wanted him. Wanted to see him flushed and panting, caught between pride and surrender. Hans lived for the moment Henry’s control frayed — and he was the one to break it.

Hans took the dagger, lifting it to his own finger — but Henry caught his wrist.

“No… let me, milord.”

Hans froze. Their eyes locked. The idea of Henry bleeding for him — it twisted something fierce in his chest.

“Henry, don’t—”

“I wear gloves. Folk would notice if it were you,” Henry murmured.

Hans relented, heart pounding. He watched, entranced, as Henry sliced his finger and let the blood fall. That devotion, that care — it burned.

They left unnoticed, a shared silence pulsing with unspoken words. In Hans’s office, with the heavy door bolted, the air between them crackled. Henry fidgeted, gaze flickering, clearly waiting for answers. Hans let the tension stretch.

“Milord, what do you—”

Hans cut him off with a smirk. “Ah, Henry… as I see it, Jitka and I shall play the doting couple. Speak of flowers and saints to our hearts’ content. But the only bedding I’ll be doing…” He stepped in, lips ghosting Henry’s ear, voice thick with heat, “...is off your hairy arse.”

Henry flushed crimson, a guttural laugh escaping him — his laugh, low and intimate, the sound Hans adored.

“Aye, and I remember you saying you’d no interest in my hairy arse. Now look at you.”

Hans chuckled darkly. “Perhaps it was all a ploy — lull you into comfort, then strike. Like a hunter to prey.”

They both knew it was no scheme. It had built slowly, simmering until Hans couldn’t fight it. Perhaps even in the bathhouse, with steam and temptation thick in the air, he had wanted Henry — needed him.

Henry didn’t pull away. His voice came low, sultry, threading heat through Hans’s veins.

“Who am I to argue with the great Hans Capon?”

Henry moved with ease, slipping arms around Hans’s waist — but Hans wasn’t having it. Not tonight. Tonight, he would have him undone. Trembling. Wrecked. Henry owed him for the other night, and Hans meant to collect, tenfold.

He grabbed Henry’s chin, tilting it up, voice rough silk.

“Not this time. Tonight, you’re mine. I’ll have you ruined, Henry — and you’ll thank me for it. Beg me to ruin you again.”

---

The words shattered Henry’s restraint like glass. He surged forward — but Hans was faster, seizing him with a desperate, ravenous kiss that left no room for air, for thought. Teeth grazed Henry’s lip — Hans bit him, owning his mouth, claiming it. There was no gentleness in it, only heat, possession. Henry belonged to him, and by all the saints, Hans would make sure he never forgot.

“No one else,” Hans growled against his lips. “No one gets you. Only me.”

With a strength that belied his noble blood, Hans spun Henry around, slamming him against the desk — parchment and scrolls crashing to the floor like discarded obligations. Henry gasped, fingers scrabbling for purchase as Hans gripped him tight, tearing at the laces of his shirt with rough, eager hands.

“You’re mine, Henry,” Hans breathed, voice thick with lust, his mouth a breath away from Henry’s throat. “Say it. Let me hear it.”

Henry’s reply was a shuddering moan, barely a word — his back arching into Hans’s touch, eyes dark with want. “Yours… gods, Hans, yours…”

That was all the permission Hans needed.

He ravished him there, atop the desk of lords and laws, the seat of power turned to a shrine of sin. Every movement was fervent, worshipful — Hans kissed, bit, tasted every inch he could claim, desperate to brand Henry’s skin with the memory of him. Henry’s moans echoed off the stone, a symphony of need and surrender that made Hans’s head spin with desire, with love. Because it wasn’t just lust — not with Henry. It never had been.

Beneath him, Henry was wrecked, undone — his voice raw with pleading, with praise that fell like prayers from his lips. Hans drank in every sound, every shiver, a man possessed.

It was beautiful.

By the end, the room was a battlefield. The desk askew, ink spilled like blood, documents torn. Henry lay beneath him, dazed, boneless, utterly spent — his chest rising in shallow, shuddering breaths, eyes glassy with the afterglow of it all. Hans didn’t move, save to stretch like a cat, satisfied, before draping himself lazily across Henry’s body, nuzzling into his neck with a rare, content sigh.

He was surprised no one had come searching. Then again, he’d locked the door. Clever man.

But he wasn’t moving. Not yet. Not from this — his place, his Henry.

Hans’s hand slid lazily along Henry’s chest, fingers tracing the sheen of sweat. His voice, when it came, was a low purr against Henry’s ear, almost smug, but soft with affection.

“Well,” he murmured, placing a kiss to his shoulder, “I dare say I’ve outdone myself.”

Henry huffed a laugh, hoarse and broken — the sound of a man utterly ruined and yet completely at peace. He turned his head, catching Hans’s gaze, and in that look was everything: love, want, devotion — his.

“I can’t move…” Henry rasped.

Hans smirked. “Good. That was the plan.” He pressed a hand to Henry’s stomach, possessive. “You’re not meant to move. You’re meant to stay with me.”

And gods, Henry would — every inch of him branded was Hans made sure of it, Henry was hopelessly and wonderfully his.

“What’s your plan?” Henry rasped.

Hans grinned, amused. “Well, dear Henry, I suspect Jitka’s… eccentricities might reveal us, if we’re not careful. So she needs help I my dear Henry shall provide it”

Henry sat up, groaning. “Hans, I don’t know the first thing about noblewomen’s… stuff.”

Hans roared with laughter. “Gods, Henry — you, in embroidery circles? Tongue stuck out, trying to thread a needle with those blocks for hands?”

Henry pouted. “You never complain about my hands.”

Hans smirked, eyes glittering. “No, I don’t. I’m grateful for them — in many ways. But they’re not suited for women’s arts.”

He stroked Henry’s cheek, tender now, love and lust blending like aged wine. “Now think, love. Who do we know that could play the perfect maid — keep watch on Jitka, ensure we’re not caught unawares, help her manage people?”

Henry blinked, blank.

“Gods, Henry. You’re a lovable idiot… Katherine. I’ll hire her as Jitka’s maid.”

Hans laughed, triumphant, and pulled Henry into a kiss — slow, lingering, promising more sin, more love, more them.

---

Any artist out there please draw Henry in an embroidery circle threading a needle lol Hans watching on laughing.

[ktdragonborn]

Another Spencer. (Chapter 1)

Carlton Lassiter X Female Reader (Shawn's Sister)

Summary: You finally moved back to California after almost 15 years away. When your mom and dad separated, your dad got Shawn and your mom took you. (Don't ask me why it's just what they agreed on). But now you're back! And you never expected to meet such a dashing Detective that would sweep you off your feet.

Characters: You, Carlton, Shawn and Gus, Juilet, Henry Spencer (dad), Madeleine Spencer (mom), Chief Karan Vick, mention of many other characters.

Warnings: None as of now! There will be smut and other graphic scenes as the story progresses.

~This story follows the show Psych. Plots from episodes are mentioned and some chapters will have you added to them. I do not own any characters from the TV Psych, just a big fan of the show and a bigger fan of our boy Lassie. I couldn't ever find something that hit my craving for Lassiter so here I am. This will also be a very long story. Very long. I'm starting it towards the end of Season 2 and plan on writing it throughout the whole show, skipping some episodes but in the end, it'll be very long.~

Please let me know what you think in the comments! This first chapter is kind of janky ngl, just wanted to try and establish the characters. But Lassie will the in the next chapter!

Chapter 2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

<Chapter 1>

Shawn and Gus were sitting in their office, scrolling through information for a case when Shawn finally remembered vital information he had forgotten to tell his best friend. “Oh, dude!” Shawn exclaimed and Gus looked up at him with a frown. 

“Yeah, Shawn?”

“I forgot to tell you. (Y/n) is moving back to town.”

“Are you serious? When? Does she need help moving? Are you two still all weird?” Gus made a little gesture with his hands and Shawn rolled his eyes.

“No, we’ve been really good for the past year honestly. We call every week or at least try to, and text when we can. I think she’s here right now honestly, I know my dad was gonna help her move in.”

“Is she living with him?”

“No, she got a house near the beach I think.”

“Does she… you know,” Gus trailed off and raised his eyebrows at Shawn. “Yes, yes, she knows Gus of course she does. She’s my sister.”

“I just wanted to make sure,” Gus moved his head and went back to his research. There was a loud ringing that echoed in the office and Shawn grabbed his phone and had a big smile on his face. He answered and Gus tried to remember when he last saw Shawn happy to answer his phone.

“Hey, little sis!” Gus immediately understood and had a smile on his face too. You three had always been tight until you moved away with your mom in the divorce. Gus knew Shawn held some resentment towards you, leaving him alone with Henry, but Gus was happy that you two were friends again. 

“At Dad's house? Why not yours?... Oh you know your cooking is fine…Ah, yeah Dad is better at steaks than you are…Sure tonight works, can Gus come?... Perfect, we'll see you tonight!” Shawn hung up the phone and looked at Gus with his arms stretched out. “Dinner tonight at my dad's with (Y/n)!” Gus pumped his arms in the air and they both celebrated in their office before another phone rang. 

“It's Lassie, we gotta go!”

~I know,  you know~ 

You hopped out of your car and adjusted your shirt before grabbing the desert you bought on your way over. You smiled as you looked at your dad’s house. Not much had changed. You walked up the path to the house and saw that the main door was open, with the screen door closed, letting the cool air from the sea. You heard noises of pots and pans coming from the kitchen as you entered your dad's house. It had been years since you set foot in here and when you did it felt like a blast to the past. There was slight humming coming from the kitchen and your smile got even wider. You hadn’t seen your dad this happy in years, and with catching up with Shawn now and then you know your dad has been the same grumpy man towards your brother. “Hello?” you called out as you walked into the kitchen and your dad spun around with a big smile. 

“(Y/n)!” He exclaimed and walked over to you to hug you. You hugged him back with a laugh. 

“You saw me earlier today Dad and you’re still this excited to see me?”

“I’m excited for a lot of reasons. Shawn and Gus come over all the time but I can’t remember the last time I had all three kids in my house for dinner.” You smiled as he pulled away and took the dessert away from you, putting it in the fridge.

“That’s a good point, it's been so long since I’ve seen Shawn and Gus too, I’m kind of nervous.”

“Nervous for what?” your Dad inquired while he spun around and leaned against the counter. 

“I’m not sure exactly. I mean Shawn and I have been doing so well recently that I don’t want to mess us up again.”

“You know you did nothing to mess up your relationship with him. It was really just your mother and me. Once you and she left, Shawn became such a rebellious kid.”

“Well that and the fact that he had a cop for a dad doesn’t help,” you laughed and your dad laughed too.

“Don’t blame yourself, kid. You didn’t do anything wrong. Unfortunately, you and Shawn got pinned against each other in the divorce and that wasn’t fair to either of you.” You nodded along with what your dad was saying and stayed silent for a second to see if your brother had arrived yet. 

“Dad…is it true that Mom left you?” Your dad looked a little sad at the memory but gave a gruff nod in response. “Shawn thinks you left her. I didn’t say anything because I figured you or Mom should tell him, but why didn’t you tell him?”

“He was already so angry, but I couldn’t let him be any angrier at your mom. In his eyes, she took you from me and him, I’m not sure what reason he thinks that was for but I can’t imagine it's good.”

“Thank you for protecting me and Mom,” you said in a small voice with a tiny smile on your lips. 

“Anything for my girls,” your dad smiled and gave you another hug. “Now, help me set the table!”

~That I’m not tellin’ the Truth~ 

Shawn and Gus arrived right after your dad finished cooking the steaks. “Gus!!!!” you nearly squealed and ran up to him. He let out a high-pitched squeal right back at you and you both embraced in a huge hug. Gus wrapped his arms around you to pick you up and spin you once before putting you back down. 

“I can’t believe you’re back! I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see you again!”

“Well even if I didn’t move back here I would’ve come to visit!”

“Uh huh, almost 15 years and you never came back to visit,” Gus said with a matter-of-fact attitude. 

“Fair point, fair point, however, I was working on my degree so I couldn’t totally afford to travel.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Shawn said while shaking his head. You gave him a big goofy smile and he did the same. You two embraced in a much more tender hug than the one you just shared with Gus. You both held each other tight, before pulling away and smiling at each other. 

“How are you, Shawn?”

“Better now that you’re back in California. Maybe you can help take some of the heat off of me from Dad.”

“I don’t know,” you laughed and started to walk to your seat at the table. “I don’t get into nearly as much shit as you do.”

“Yeah, you’ll see. Santa Barbara has something out for us ‘Spencers’.” You laughed and all sat down at the table while your dad brought the steaks over from the counter. 

“I’m not even gonna let you guys ask about me,” you stated as you filled your plate with the sides of tonight's dinner. “Tell me all about this Psych business.”

“Oh, I’m not sure-” Gus started, taking a big bite of his food. “After all, you’re the one who's been gone.”

“Exactly! And I’m back now so you’ll have plenty of time to hear how my life in Colorado was. After Shawn would tell me about a case you guys had I would try so hard to find somewhere I could read about it but it never really worked.”

“Fine, but we need to hear about you too.”

“I swear, I’ll tell you some stuff, but my life has not been nearly as exciting as your guys.”

“Why do you say that?” Shawn asked. He had known about your accomplishments and was shocked you were downplaying them so much. 

“I mean all I did was graduate high school, graduate college, get my Master’s degree and I started my own practice after receiving my Doctorate.”

“And you’re only 26 right now!” Shawn exclaimed and Gus raised his eyebrows and nodded in agreement. 

“That is pretty impressive.”

“Well when you’re doing the same thing as your mom, she tends to have some pointers about how to get things done quickly.”

“How is Mom?” Shawn asked and you shifted your eyes to your dad, who had been very quiet since dinner started. You assumed he just wanted to watch and listen to all three of his kids talk and get along. You knew the side of Shawn that was showing right now was not something your dad saw often. Your dad’s eye shot to yours and he smiled a little when he saw you looking at him. 

“She’s good!” You continued, taking the smile as a ‘go ahead’. “She’s kicking ass in her own practice. She’s actually started traveling all over, performing psych evals on current and new law enforcement officers. She inspired me to do the same. So, although I have my own practice, once or twice a week, I’ll go around, not just to law enforcement, but to any business that wants to do psych evals on their staff.”

“Look at us! Two siblings who created their own businesses,” Shawn said excitedly and looked around the table. Gus shook his head and swallowed his food. 

“Shawn, I love what we created, but it’s not nearly as impressive as your 26-year-old sister. We’re both 30-year-olds running a made-up business.”

“It is not made up!” Shawn declared and put his hands on the table. “We solve very real cases and earn very real money.”

“Sounds real to me,” you defended as you took a bite of food. “Best cases, go!”

“Solved a murder at the spelling bee.”

“Oh, we helped a guy with multiple personality disorder. If he’s still in town you may wanna talk to him. One of his personalities was trying to get gender reassignment surgery without the main personality knowing. And the other personality didn’t like that and started killing all the psychiatrists they went to,” Gus said as he pointed his fork at you. 

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I wanna hear after you tell me to talk to someone,” you replied sarcastically. 

“We had an alien abduction case where a married couple was drugging and stealing from single men who went to a speed dating thing at a bar.”

“Where did the alien abduction come from?”

“That’s what all the victims said happened to them. They used some powerful drugs,” Gus explained. His eyebrows shot up when he remembered another case. “(Y/n), do you remember Scary Sherry?”

“Yeah, the lady who jumped out of the window of the asylum?”

“We had a case that involved that!”

“Yeah, some sorority girls accidentally scared a girl and she fell out that same window,” Shawn continued. “The dead girl's adopted sister went on a killing spree. Almost killed one of the detectives of the Santa Barbra Police Department because she was undercover.”

“Wow. All over some some prank because of an urban legend?” Your dad finally laughed and spoke up. 

“These two numbskulls weren’t supposed to watch what happened. And technically they didn’t. They saw Sherry in the window and then when they opened their eyes she was gone. I was able to grab her and pull her back into the building before she jumped.” You looked at Shawn and Gus slackjawed. 

“You’re telling me, you two started an urban legend?”

“That’s exactly what we did,” Gus said, very proud of himself. Shawn smirked before going back to their cases. 

“I unearthed a T-Rex skull.”

“We, unearthed a T-Rex skull,” Gus corrected and you laughed. 

“Like an actual full T-Rex skull?”

“Yeah, it's in the museum right now actually. I’ll have to take you to see it someday.”

“Before that, we made it to the finals on American Duos. We were Nigel St. Nigel’s bodyguards. He was the target of multiple assassination attempts.”

“Was he as much of a dick in real life as he is on the show?”

“Yes,” all three men at the table chimed in and you all laughed. 

“I don’t know if I’ve ever seen all three of you agree on something. He must’ve been a real pain.”

“He also scored us poorly on what should have been the winning Duo of the season.” You could tell Gus was definitely still angry about that. 

“We helped prove Jimmy Nichols's innocence in a murder case too,” Shawn added. 

“You mean he didn’t actually kill someone? That’s out of character for him.”

“Hes a jockey too. Didn’t grow at all after middle school.”

“There was also that ring of thieves with the nanny cover. We found that because the Chief of the SBPD just had a baby and needed a full-time nanny.”

“The Chief hired you for that?”

“Yeah, it was supposed to be easy but Shawn had to read into everything like always.”

“And look what I got us, an organization that would rob people's houses by using their security cameras that come with the nannies.”

“That is pretty intense, I won’t lie,” you said and stood up, taking everyone's plates from them and cleaning up the dishes. Your dad got up to help you while Shawn and Gus kept talking about their cases. 

“Dad was also a part of a creepy secret lodge. He didn’t want us involved but someone was murdered with the slightest venom of a snake from Brazil. The venom was put in the weird masks they had to wear.”

“Dad you were in a secret club?” You questioned and watched him frown as he grabbed the dessert you brought and started plating up the food. 

“Yes, I was, but I wasn’t in it for long. Too many politics.”

“I love that for you. Your own secret club,” you laughed and took the plates of dessert back to the table. 

“Those aren’t all of the cases we’ve solved though. Just the most memorable ones as of now.”

“Well I’m glad Psych is doing so well,” you smiled and ate some dessert. “If you guys ever need help just let me know, I’ll be happy to help. Especially right now, I don’t have as many clients as I did in Colorado just yet.”

“You know the SBPD might be hiring for a head psychiatrist position. We could put in a good word for you if you want,” Shawn offered and smiled at you. 

“I’ll have to think about it for sure. Once you are your own boss, it's hard to go back to regular work.”

Everyone agreed with you and focused on their dessert. You and Shawn started reminiscing on old times and Gus and your dad would chime in every now and again. You were a big family again, and it was almost as if you hadn’t been gone for the past 14 years. And that’s exactly how you wanted it to be.

[siampie]

Risk and Reward||Chapter 9: Like Real People Do

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: Just fluffy moments between you and Matt.

Warnings/tags: lots of fluff and a hint of angst.

A/N: Sorry for the late update, life had been hectic lately. And also been dealing with some face pain due to a wisdom tooth. Commentaries and reblogs are greatly appreciated.     

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Masterlist || join my taglist

Tag list: @marytheweefrenchie; @sunflowersandsapphires; @abbyhaslongshorts; @schneeflocky; @danzer8705;

@ebathory997; @sarraa-26; @cheshirecat484; @rebeccapineapple; @msjb2002

Dividers by @cafekitsune

Song the title is referring to:

I had a thought, dear, however scary

About that night, the bugs and the dirt

Why were you digging? What did you bury

Before those hands pulled me from the earth?

I will not ask you where you came from

I will not ask and neither should you

Honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips

We should just kiss like real people do

The soft music filled your apartment while you hummed, swaying lightly, to the song. Enjoying one of those rare moments where you felt in the mood to cook a full meal for yourself. The pan singing as the freshly cut vegetables were frying in the hot oil. You added the broccoli to the stir-fry you were cooking, your eyes caught sight of the numerous drawings on your fridge. They had been made with love by your nieces and nephews. Your goddaughter, now 6, were also learning how to write now. So, of course, some of drawings were now accompanied with love notes.

“Je t’aime, Marraine.” (I love you, Godmother.)

The words were misspelled, and she still needed to get a grasp on grammar. But every time you read the words; you felt your heart swell with love. And the few times she came to visit you, she was proud to see her pictures on your fridge. And she and her siblings, and her cousin, drew more of those stick figure, knowing their arts would find room on your fridge and walls.

The shrill sound of your ringtone pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Ah, you’ve reached the procrastination hotline. Please hold…indefinitely.” You answered the call.

“How many of those do you have?” Your sister’s voice came from the other end of the line.

“As many as I need.” You shot back. “So, what’s up?”

“I need to vent,” she declared.

“About?”

“Our brother; Henry.” She dramatically sighed.  

“I’m listening,” you puffed out a long breath.

“So, you know how he decided to let mom have access to his kids,” she started. You hummed, “well, now, his in-laws are getting involved and asking me, why don’t I want mom anywhere near my boy?”

“How is that any of their concerns? It’s your kid, you get to decide who’s in his life or not. Why are they getting involved?” You asked quite angrily, you never liked your brother’s in-laws. They were quite nosy people, always wondering when you were going to have kids, while your own father just let you live your life at your own pace.

“Oh, that’s not even the best part,” Ann continued. “They think it would be beneficial for my son to meet his maternal grandmother. Can you believe that?”

“I can believe they haven’t been hit enough in their lives, that I can believe.” You replied, your sister chuckled. “No one cares what they think. Axel is your son, and you are his mother. If you don’t want our mother to meet him, it is your decision. And frankly, bad parents don’t get to be grandparents. So, I’d say don’t let her meet your little boy.”

“Thank you,” she exclaimed. “I thought I was going crazy over here.”

“You’re not, don’t worry,” you reassured her. “And I’m fairly certain, Dee would agree with me.” You killed the fire under the pan, “what did Henry say to that?”

“Nothing. As usual.” Ann scoffed, “Didn’t defend my decision or even tried to explain to them why I wouldn’t want that.”

“It doesn’t need explaining, they know our story. It’s quite understandable why you wouldn’t,” you leaned your elbows on your counter. “Do you want me to give him call?”

“No, it won’t be necessary,” she told you. “I just needed to know I wasn’t alone in this.”

“You’re not,” you assured her. “Just to let you know, if you do decide to let her see little Axel, I won’t be mad. I’ll support you no matter what, you know that right?”

“I know,” she sighed. “Would you?” she questioned you, “would you let her in?”

“No,” your answer was firm. “Never again. Do you want to let her in?”

“No,” Ann was a firm as you in her answer. “She doesn’t deserve it.”

“Exactly,” you nodded. “Don’t let them get into your head. They’re not your in-laws, so, their opinions don’t really matter.”

“You’re right,” she agreed. “So, whatcha doin’?”

“Cooking some stir-fry, and then some netflix and chill—or maybe some video games, haven’t decided yet.”

“Oh, come on!” Ann groaned, “It’s Friday night, you’re single. You should be out there having fun, meeting new people. Do this for me, let me live vicariously through you. Please!”

You huffed out a laugh. She had yet to know about Matthew. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to share him with your family, you did. You wanted them to know about the new man in your life. You wanted them to share in your happiness. However, you were just very protective of your relationship with Matt. You wanted to keep him for yourself a little while longer.

But this was your sister. Your first ever best friend. It didn’t seem fair to hide it from her. Not when she came to you first, after she had said yes to her, then, fiancé.

“Well,” you started, “it’s been a very long week. And I didn’t feel like socializing tonight.”

“Typical,” Ann snorted.

There was a knock on your door. “And who said I was single?” Your feet made no sound as you quietly walked towards your door.

“You have a boyfriend!” She squealed, “tell me everything.”

You shook your head while pulling your door open, revealing Matt on the other side.

His tie was loose and crooked around his neck, his dark and soft locks, a mess on his head. A grin was plastered on his face, your lips tugging up at the corner, mirroring his.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he greeted you. You caught the smell of Josie’s stale beer in his breath as he leaned in to rest a soft kiss on your lips.

“Hey, Matty.”

“He calls you ‘sweetheart,’” your sister’s voice rose from your phone, reminding you that she was still on the line with you. “What’s his name?”

“Matt,” you answered quickly as Matt let himself into your apartment. “I’ll be right with you, okay?” He nodded with a smile, shedding his coat.

“So, that’s you meant by Netflix and chill, uh?” You sister teased,

“No, I genuinely meant Netflix and chill,” you hissed at her as you watched Matt sit down on your couch.

“No one means Netflix and chill when they say Netflix and chill,” Ann told you. “It’s what my husband and I get up to when baby’s with grandma.”

“Nope,” you shook your head. “I don’t need to hear about that. Absolutely not,”

“Alright, sorry,” she chuckled. “I’ll let you join your beau, but first tell me the basics. What’s his name? What does he do in life? And how hot is he? And most importantly, how long have you been dating?”

You looked up, your eyes landing on the back of Matt’s head. “Alright, basics,” you turned around and leaned against your counter. “His name is Matthew Murdock. He’s a lawyer and has his own firm. He is blind and very—very hot. And sweet as honey. And it’s been—almost four months.”

“Almost four months? And you kept it from me?”

“Says the girl who only told us she was pregnant at the six months mark?” You reminded her.

“It’s not my fault, the props I needed to make the big announcement took too long to be delivered.” She defended herself, “when do we get to meet him?” Ann questioned excitedly.

“Not yet, I don’t want you to scare him away.”

“We won’t, I promise,” your sister said, her voice going a little higher.

“We’ll see about that,” you snorted. “Look, I gotta go. My boyfriend’s over.”

“Okay,” she retorted. “Go Netflix and chill, ‘all night long,’” she sang the last part.

“Alright—bye bye.” You said before hanging up.

You put your phone on the counter, heaving out a deep breath. You had not lied to your sister, you didn’t feel like socializing with anyone that night, so, you opted out of your usual hangout at Josie’s. You walked up to the couch where Matt had settled in, waiting for you patiently. Leaning over the back of the couch, you put your arms around his shoulders and laid a kiss on his cheek. His hands came up, his fingers wrapping around your forearms.

“Not that I’m not glad to see you,” you started, “I’m very glad to see you but aren’t you supposed to be at Josie’s with the others?”

“I’ve been looking forward to spend some time with my girlfriend, and she doesn’t show up,” Matt said quietly.

“I did warn you,” you told him, one of your hands raking through his hair.

“I know,” he gave a pleased hum, “I thought I skipped on the hangout and come and find you here,” your lips tugged up at the corner. “I just missed you,” Matt admitted, pulling your arm away from around his shoulders, to rest a kiss on your wrist.

A soft smile made its way onto your face, “I missed you too.” His lips found yours, kissing yours in a weird angle over the back of the couch. You pulled away, “do you want some food? I cook a really mean stir-fry. Or so, I’ve been told.”

You later found yourself lying in bed, with Matt’s nose buried in your neck. His body was draped over yours, not crushing you under his weight. His weight on top of yours felt comforting, you loved feeling the way he was relaxing under your touch. You wanted to ravish him here and there, but you were enjoying this cuddle session too much to put a stop to it, in favor of mind-blowing sex. One of his hands found its way under your shirt,

“Long week?” He asked quietly.

“Yeah,” you replied in the same manner. “My workload has sort of doubled, I also had to go to meetings. Too many if you ask me,” you explained, your hand rubbing up and down his spine. “I just wanted to enjoy a night to myself, without having to socialize with anyone.”

Matt kissed your collarbone, “sorry, I’ve ruined that for you.”

“I’m not complaining,” you smiled softly. “And you haven’t ruined anything. I had a few hours to myself staring at a wall, which was truly relaxing,” your lips found his brows. “And you’re not anyone, you’re Matt. My ruggedly handsome boyfriend,” a small giggled escaped your lips.

He moved off of you slightly, and you whined at the move. He leaned on his elbow, facing you, his sightless eyes staring at your chin. “Stare at a wall?” His brows were scrunched up.

You giggled again, he smiled at the sound, “yeah, stare at a wall. Technically, not for hours and it wasn’t really a wall. But I do stare at nothing at times, and let my mind wander to the confines of the universe.” You finished with a solemn tone.  

“The confines of the universe, uh?” He laughed, “what does that entail exactly?”

“Well,” your hand ran up his arm, “it’s just another way to say daydreaming really.”

His hand slid higher under your shirt, “what were you daydreaming about?”

Your face flushed in embarrassment; the top of your ears heated up. You usually didn’t share the object of your daydreams. It was in your opinion too intimate for anyone to be let in, and also, you didn’t want them to judge you for it. You’d rather tell him something about a really embarrassing experience than to share what they were about.

You started toying with the short sleeve of his black shirt, “nothing really interesting. It’s just, you know—” you shrugged up one of your shoulders. “—stupid stuff, nothing too important,” you cupped his face, your thumb running across his cheek, rough under your fingers. “And that’s not the point.”

“What’s the point, then?”  Matt smiled at you.

“The point was that daydreaming is really relaxing and resting. It’s like my brain shut off, but not completely. My mind can just wander aimlessly and it’s beneficial—for the health.”

“Ah,” he nodded, “should I try it then?”

“You should,” you replied. “Studies showed that people who ‘practiced’ daydreaming have better control over their emotions, have more empathy and are naturally better problem solvers.”

“You read a study about daydreaming?” His eyebrows went up.

You barked out a laugh, “yeah, I looked it up.” You bit down on your bottom lip, “you think I’m weird, don’t you?”

“Sweetheart, I don’t think you are weird. I know you are,” you slapped his shoulder. Matt burst out a laugh. “It’s part of your charm.”

“Huh, uh,” you nodded.

“Truly, it is. Next to your voice,” he laid a kiss on your throat, “to your laugh,” another kiss on the corner of your lips. Your breath hitched in your throat. “Your weirdness is one my favorite thing,” his lips brushed against your temple. “It’s very entertaining.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

“Very much.”

He dove for your neck, and started peppering kisses, down your collarbone, up your neck, before attacking your face. The action sent you into a fit of giggles. Being spurt on by your laugh, Matt kept on doing it. Conversation about your daydreams, or your weirdness completely forgotten. Especially when the peppered kisses turned into something more passionate and heated.

You were nearing the four months mark in your relationship with Matt. You often wondered how you’d gotten so lucky with this man. Everything seemed so easy with him. You, who needed alone time to recharge your social battery, found that you didn’t really need one with him. It was the complete opposite, spending time with Matt, recharged your social battery even faster.

Spring was slowly fading away, making room for Summer. The rising heat in the streets of Hell’s Kitchen had a way to irritate people. Walking to work with Amelia, had given you a glimpse into how quick and prone were to anger. All because of the rise in temperature. You didn’t truly mind it, although, at night you did leave a fan on, and slowly wore less and less clothes to bed.

“There isn’t even a lick of wind,” you complained to Amelia. “We should have taken a cab.”

“To go to Josie’s? You’re out of your mind,” Amelia snorted. “Don’t be such a wuss, it’s not that bad yet.”

“What do you mean yet?”

“I mean it’s only the beginning, and it’s going to get worse.” Amelia patiently explained. “It’s not for the weak.”

“Thanks that’s really helpful,” you said as she pushed the door open. “The coldest beer you have, Josie, please.” You almost begged the woman, sitting down on the stool.

“You’re so dramatic,” Amelia huffed out a laugh. “So, weren’t you suppose to meet up with lover boy tonight?”

“He cancelled,” you nodded, turning your stool to face Amelia. “He’s still working on his big case. Needed to tie up some loose ends.”

“When’s the court date?” Amelia questioned; Josie pushed your beers towards you.

“Not for another month,” you retorted. “But you know court case takes a lot, and they need to make sure that they covered all their basis. So, they won’t have any surprises when it comes to trial.”

“You did a deep dive on this, didn’t you?” Amelia cocked up of her eyebrows.

“Not exactly deep dive, but I did look it up,” you gave her a sheepish smile. You took a sip of the cold beer, “That feels so good.”

“You are so not surviving the summer,” she joked.

“Oh, I will. Just to spite you, and Summer.”

Your window was cracked opened slightly, in hopes you would feel some breeze to alleviate the heat. You lied down on the cold floorboard, staring at the ceiling. He had cancelled again that night. His latest case was more complex than he had anticipated. It wasn’t that big of a deal, you understood. But adding to the cancellations, his absences on Fridays at Josie’s had also become more frequent. It wasn’t unusual. He had been unavailable on some Fridays, in the beginning of your relationship, working on opening statements. And you had often popped in to visit him, and fell asleep on his couch while he did so.

It wasn’t unusual.

And yet, you couldn’t help but feel that Matt was probably pulling away from you. Maybe that was the moment the other shoe would drop. Maybe you were right, everything with Matt was too good to be true.

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[myteavsricochet]

Favorite firstprince fanfics, an incomplete list:

One shots:

All the Stars We Steal From the Night Sky :

Alex is quiet, and something is wrong.

Or, Alex struggles with emotions and Henry is there to help.

(Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Basically Just Them Being Soft, Alex is struggling, Henry helps)

In His Wildest Dreams

Set in and around the Henry bonus chapter, this is a story about Henry and Alex’s hectic schedules, family appearances etc. Pulling them apart, and about what starts to happen between them, in the quiet of night: their sleeping bodies turning to each other, finding their sweet spots and opening up. And Alex and Henry learning a lot about each other in the process.

(Please, look at the tags carefully, this fic is very soft, very hot and very consensual but may not be for everyone: Consensual somnophilia, Kink exploration, Porn with feelings, Smut)

5 times Alex called Henry baby ‘casually’ and 1 time it was (definitely) because of love

How did “baby” become a thing in the film universe? When did it become a thing in the film universe? Fine, I’ll answer these questions myself.

(Additional Tags: Overuse of the word "baby", Pet Names, Fluff, Angst, 5+1 Things, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Sex, Mild Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort)

Who could ever leave me darling, but who could stay?

Alex has always been too much. Objectively, he knows this. He talks too much, his volume is too much, and the fire under his ass is too much. So, when he’d met Henry, when he hadn’t cared about Henry’s opinion and had been his real, authentic, annoying self, and Henry had liked him anyway? It was something Alex struggled to wrap his head around. It started in kindergarten.

Or: A look at Alex's childhood and how hard it is always being the too-much person in any given room.

(Additional Tags: Pre-Canon, Post-Canon, Childhood, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, So much comfort)

Déjame Ver Cómo Es Que Floreces

Oscar gets in close and bluntly asks, “Earlier. In the bathroom. Did you do it?”

Alex scoffs, “No. Don't be a perv. Why would you wanna know that anyway?”

Oscar rolls his eyes. “Mind out of the gutter, chamaco. Did you propose?”

Ah.

-

Henry is introduced to the extended Diaz side of the family at their matriarch's birthday. Shenanigans (and romance and feelings) ensue.

(This fic is absolutely amazing ❤️

Additional Tags: Humor, Fluff, Family Fluff, Pre-Engagement, Mexican-American Culture, Mexican OC's galore, Drinking, Family Bonding, Karaoke, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Alex Claremont-Diaz Speaks Spanish)

Forty-Four Days

"God, I haven't seen you in forty-four days," Alex suddenly spits, and Henry feels the pain of his words in his own chest, like ice replacing the blood in his veins. Because that's it, isn't it? Forty-four days of separation. Forty-four days of waking up to an empty bed, of making coffee along with his tea only to realize that Alex isn't there to drink it, of long meetings without any of Alex's witty jokes, of cold hands on chilly autumn walks because Alex isn't there to warm them up.

Maybe it's the simple fact of hearing for the first time, or maybe it's the tipping point of the taxing day, but Henry feels something inside of him snap, and —

And all he knows is that he needs to see Alex now.

(Additional Tags: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Separations, Separation Anxiety, Late Night Conversations, Minor Character Death, but it's nothing to worry about I PROMISE, Reunions, Kissing, Literal Sleeping Together, Mild Sexual Content, they love and miss each other, that's the plot, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant)

A Mind That Never Sleeps

Five times Alex stays awake with Henry, and the one time he coaxes him back to sleep.

(Additional Tags: 5+1 Things, Insomnia, Sleepless nights, Piano, Weddings, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, that's really all this is, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant)

talk too much

Alex has his wisdom teeth removed and Henry takes care of him, fluff ensues

(Additional Tags: wisdom teeth removal, not bloody or graphic, just fluff, pure fluff, No Angst, Henry Pov, firstprince, living in the brownstone, FLUFF I TELL YOU, Henry taking care of Alex, and Alex taking care of Henry too hehe, You’ll see)

silk and steel

Thanks to a welcome day off, Henry and Alex spend a lazy morning in bed. Soft, mid-morning cuddles escalate into semi-soft, mid-morning sex.

(Addictional tags: Morning cuddles, Morning sex, Body worship, Light dom/sub, Praise kink, Established relationship, Top Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Bottom Alex Claremont Diaz)

I don't wanna dance, if I'm not dancing with you

"You want me at a ball?"

"I want you with me as often as possible," Henry says, immediately, as if it's obvious. Maybe it is. "But yes, it would be nice to have you there. I'm not necessarily actively trying to anger my grandmother, which you being there might, but... Well, she hasn't exactly extended an invitation but I have just as much right as anyone to bring a date and--"

"Baby." Henry's rambling stops short on what nearly sounds like a gasp, and Alex grins to himself. Sometimes, his boyfriend is too easy. "Do you want me there?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll be there."

----

or, Henry wants Alex at a ball and Alex is anxious about it.

(Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Ballroom Dancing, Alex Claremont-Diaz Has ADHD, Hurt/Comfort)

If You Hold Me Without Hurting Me, You’ll Be the First Who Ever Did

Henry feels himself aching for Alex—this Alex, the one who’s at home in Texas, the one who’s vulnerable and free—and he sees the ache reflected in Alex’s eyes.

The first night they spend at the lake house, before Alex wakes up with Henry's swimsuit tangled around his elbow.

(Additional Tags: Emotions, Anal Sex, Bottom Henry, alex calling henry baby, henry calling alex love, Boys In Love, Porn with Feelings, Henry Pov, so it's a wee bit angsty)

love dares you, to change our way of caring about ourselves

Henry has read it all: fairy-tales of princes and their courters, unsung histories of kings and their secret lovers, and he has read all their happy endings. But he is not a prince in a fairy-tale, and he has always thought his own secret love story was likelier to end in tragedy.

Perhaps it’s time that changed.

(Or, Henry’s POV the morning after The Great Claremont-Diaz Ambush at Kensington Palace)

Let Me Hold Your Head in My Hands

Alex has a migraine.

Henry takes care of him.

(Additional Tags: Sickfic, Sick Character, Boys In Love, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Caretaking, Idiots in Love, Headaches & Migraines, Tooth-Rotting Fluff,Domestic Fluff, Bathtubs)

you would not believe your eyes (if ten million fireflies)

Alex and Henry are staying at Alex’s house in Texas. Henry has never seen fireflies before, and Alex can’t let him get away without the experience of catching one.

Or,

Alex is helplessly in love with Henry.

(Additional Tags: Fluff, Alex Claremont-Diaz Loves Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Loves Alex Claremont-Diaz, Summer, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, firefly catching, Fireflies, Lightning bugs, Texas)

Promises, Promises.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes again.

The corner of Henry’s mouth does the thing it does. His walls are back up.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” he mutters, before turning on his heel and marching down the hall.

——

OR

Alex has never felt so horrible. And 3 days is a long time.

(Additional Tags: Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, Arguing, Fights, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Loves Alex Claremont-Diaz, Alex Claremont-Diaz Loves Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Stressed Alex Claremont-Diaz, Alex Claremont-Diaz Needs a Hug, Panic Attacks, Vomiting, Anxiety, Alex Claremont-Diaz Has Abandonment Issues, Abandonment Issues, Leaving Home)

The Red Side Goes Up

Henry brings home a little something new to try in the bedroom. Or: The One Where Alex Gets Jealous of a Butt Plug.

(Additional Tags: Smut, Rimming, Sex Toys, Anal Sex, Butt Plugs, Post-Canon)

(all of me changed like) midnight rain

“They’re fighting again,” he whispers instead. Henry’s eyes are sad.

“I know, love.”

Or, 5 times Alex believes his relationship with Henry won't last, and 1 time he knows it will.

Or, 5 times Alex doesn't believe in love because of his parents and 1 time Henry proves him wrong.

(Additional Tags: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Established Relationship, Breaking Up & Making Up, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Divorce, Canonical Divorce, Based on a Taylor Swift Song, Song: Midnight Rain (Taylor Swift), Depression, References to Depression)

We'll Get Together Then

5+1 times Oscar was a good dad to Henry (ft. Abuelo Oscar)

(Additional Tags: Henry and Oscar bonding, 5+1 Things, I have Feelings about their relationship, Arthur's death is mentioned)

The Bet

Looking back at it, it's all Nora's fault.

Or, the time Henry and Alex bet on who can last the longest without sex.

(Additional Tags: Bets & Wagers, No sex bet, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, but it gets resolved eventually, Wet Dream, Eventual Smut, Eventual Sex, Porn With Plot, like it kind of has a plot, Mostly just porn though, Kissing, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Riding, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Switching, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant)

What Kind of Day Has It Been

Even after thirty-odd years of being together (twenty-five of those married) Henry still has to drag Alex away from his desk and up to bed. Even just a few days after routine surgery Alex can't help himself.

(Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Future Fic, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Boys In Love, Kissing, Married Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor)

take a bite, babe

And, well, Henry can no longer lie to himself. He couldn’t be more in love with Alex if he tried.

Or: five moments Henry notices Alex’s eyelashes (and falls a little more in love).

I miss you, i'm sorry

"I—I’m killing myself trying to make this work, trying to make both you and my family happy, living on planes, and it’s still not enough for you? I don’t know what else to do.”

“Well, I’m sorry it’s so hard for you to be with me,” Alex says bitterly, wiping furiously at his eyes and refusing to meet Henry’s.

"Alex—"

“No,” Alex interrupts angrily, “get it off your chest! I can’t wait to hear all about how much work I am to be with. You know what, if you’re just gonna leave me again then you might as well go ahead and do it now. Save us both the hurt.”

Or: the fight.

(Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Fighting, Healthy Relationships, Alex Claremont-Diaz Has Abandonment Issues, Comfort, Healthy Conflict Resolution, Conflict Resolution)

Too Much

Okay, so maybe Alex talked too much for them. It was fine. He could still sit with them at lunch, he just had to make sure not to talk so much. Just listen to them. He could do that.

The next day, and the day after, Alex sat with the same group of kids. Only, he no longer went on rants about movies or books or what he saw on the news that morning or what his parents talked/argued over at dinner.

Alex stayed silent, desperate to not be too much.

***

OR 5 times the people in Alex's life thought that he was too much + one time Henry assured him that he wasn't.

(Additional Tags: 5+1 Things, Hurt/Comfort, Alex Claremont-Diaz Needs a Hug, Alex Claremont-Diaz Has ADHD, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Author Projecting, author's first fic)

the common tongue of you loving me

Where did kissing come from? Henry has always wondered. Why kisses? At the beginning of history, which long forgotten person, which ancestor of all mankind, was the first to press their lips to another’s in a declaration of their love?

Was it a lover, perhaps, so consumed with devotion that they sought to use lips as well as fingertips? All followed the base urge of their bodies — the innate knowledge that the pressing of lips was the highest form of touch. But no one knows why.

Except when Alex quirks his cupid’s bow, licks into Henry’s mouth and lets his bottom lip rest on Henry’s, and oh. Henry knows.

(Additional Tags: Kissing, henry has so many feelings about kissing, Explicit Sexual Content, Grinding, Frottage)

All Your Closets Of Backlogged Dreams

It’s not that the loss of the President’s oldest child is a secret. It’s just that nobody talks much about the death of Catalina June Claremont-Diaz.

It takes Alex years before he talks to Henry about her.

(The painful story no one asked for that ties June into the movie.)

(Additional Tags: Past Character Death, Canon - Book & Movie Combination, Alex Claremont-Diaz Needs a Hug, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Loves Alex Claremont-Diaz, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Alex Claremont-Diaz Has ADHD)

i'm so in love (i might stop breathing)

He looks so fucking gorgeous like this, eyes half-lidded as he looks at Alex. He rests his head on Alex's chest, tightening his arms. Alex can see the tips of his ears turning pink.

"It's ! H G E J F M W C D 2 4 !" he mumbles in embarrassment, hiding his face in the crook of Alex's neck again. A beat of silence.

Then, almost shouting in joy, Alex yells, "Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor- Claremont-Diaz! That's your fucking password?"

"Shut up!" Henry hisses and Alex feels so many butterflies in his stomach that he's going to throw himself off of a cliff. Really, teenage girls with celebrity crushes have nothing on him at this moment.

or,

Henry is drunk and Alex is so in love he could die.

(being with you) makes the flame burn good

“Ah, would you look at that,” Alex says hoarsely, breaking the kiss, “Looks like you got a bit of batter on your neck.”

He lowers his head and licks a stripe up Henry's neck until his tongue reaches the spot below his ear and Henry shudders slightly in his arms.

“Tastes so good, baby,” Alex teases and fits his thigh between Henry's legs, feeling how hard he is and how immediately he grinds against Alex's body, searching for any form of relief.

“Oh, piss off,” Henry breathes and tangles his hands in Alex's curls, fisting his hand lightly and moving his hips a little faster.

(Additional Tags: Married Alex Claremont-Diaz and Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Kitchen Sex, Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Laughter During Sex, Body Worship, Sort Of, Hickeys, Begging, Praise Kink, Nipple Play, surprisingly there's NO food play in this, Dom Alex, Sub Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor)

we thought we ruled the world

Alex stares down at his latest text from Henry. A link to an article he’s seen about ten versions of so far. He’s managed to resist clicking on any of them, but now Henry is sending it, so he supposes he should at least give it a skim.

How Prince Henry’s Relationship With FSOTUS Lost Ellen Claremont The Election

............

Or, what would have happened if Ellen lost.

(Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, mostly happy at least)

pictures of you

Henry has seen photos of Alex before, of Alex’s easy grin and disarming smirk, wild curls awry and lean muscles on casually stretched biceps. He’s seen countless photos of him before.

But.

Alex has never sent him a photo before. Not like this.

---

Five times Alex sends Henry a selfie from bed (+ one time Henry sends him one)

the dresden dilemma

The Crown had expectations when it sent a member of the royal family abroad but after a handful of years navigating said expectations, Alex and Henry had become adept at circumventing them when possible. Like tonight: They were supposed to be in Berlin for the weekend, but after a bit of needling and a lot of promises to behave, Alex had convinced Shaan to arrange for them to spend at least one night outside of the city.

Dresden, Alex had argued, was close enough to Berlin that they weren't really disobeying the Crown and besides, what harm could a single night in Dresden do?

(Additional Tags: Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Loves Alex Claremont-Diaz, Established Relationship, Alex Claremont-Diaz has Trauma, cause he's an american kid and who doesn't, or at least he thought, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Fireworks, School Shootings, implied/referenced anyway, Guns)

the clementine thing

And, really, it doesn’t matter whether or not Alex explains it to Liam and the rest of his friends. They’ve never really discussed it between themselves through the years. Slowly, Alex had gone from asking Would you please peel this for me? to Please? to silently extending the citrus without any comment at all, just a soft smile. It’s one of the things that make them Alex-and-Henry; the silent conversations and the contentment in each other’s company.

Now, as Alex starts to flourish through his position on the lacrosse team, his slew of AP classes, and his role in student government, getting him to slow down at all is a feat. The only way that Henry can do it, guaranteed, is by one of those innocuous little fruits. There’s nothing Alex can’t do—surely, he could peel a fucking orange if he felt so inclined—but Henry delights in being able to do this for him.

-

Five times Henry shares a clementine with Alex, and one time Alex returns the favor

(This is one of my favorites, please read this ❤️)

In the Low Lamp Light, I Was Free

“You wanna go again?” Alex asks, pressing the back of his head into the pillows, offering his throat more fully to Henry’s hungry mouth, and when Henry laughs and retrieves another condom and the little bottle of lube from his toiletry bag, he adds, “I had a thought, though. I thought, maybe… you could be inside me this time.”

(Movieverse; there were two condom wrappers on the floor in Paris.)

he is exactly the poem i wanted to write

There is no Turkey in Alex's room this year, but there is a prince.

AKA, Henry spends thanksgiving with Alex after the election and reflects on all of his dreams coming true.

(Additional Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, Oral Sex, Anal Fingering, so fluffy it borders on worshippy, Porn with Feelings)

we might fall

A little ficlet of Alex and Henry in the hammock. Metaphors about falling.

lifeline of mine

Henry hates hospitals, has hated them since he watched his father wither away in one that smelled just like this one, that had the same unsettling chill in the air. And every time he walked into a hospital after losing Arthur, he would see his father’s ashen face, would feel the ghost of his cold skin prickling his own, would hear the slowing beep of his heart monitor. And now, it’s Henry in a hospital bed, not knowing what’s wrong with his body. And he’s scared, and he’s thinking about Arthur and…

“I saw him,” Henry whispers.

(Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Major Character Injury, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hallucinations, Hospitals, Hospitalization, Hurt Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Worried Alex Claremont-Diaz, Sick Character, Sick Fic, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Needs a Hug, Forehead Kisses, Fever, Angst with a Happy Ending)

please don't ever become a stranger (whose laugh i could recognize anywhere)

Alex’s love language is physical touch.

Henry knows this—has known it from the first moment he’s met Alex, all wild curls and bright eyes and a smile that could breathe life into Henry’s little, fragile hife. He’d stuck out a hand at that first meeting, dejected when Henry didn’t even take it. Found a way to poke and prod Henry every single time they’d met after, sharp jabs hitting his shoulder and rough hits shoving him around.

Now, Alex’s fingers are gentle as they lace around his. His arms hold him tight to his chest. His hair tickles the nape of Henry’s neck, and the couch is entirely too small for the two of them but Henry doesn’t have the heart to kick him out.

Or, 5 times Alex clings tight to Henry and 1 time Henry finds out why.

Bear with me

The first time it happened, Henry was not having it.

“For the last time, I’m not helping you shave your arse.”

—

In which Alex is very hairy, and Henry sort of has a thing for it. Not that he'd admit it, though.

(Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Post-Canon, Canon - Book, But can fit the movie verse too, tzp is a walking thirst trap, this was supposed to be crack but became quite serious real quick, Domestic Fluff, Mentions of Sex, No Smut, Body Hair Appreciation, Healthy Relationships)

i ask you how you’re doing (and i let you lie)

The first time Henry sees it happen, he knows instantly that it is not the first time it has ever happened. They’re sitting in the living room of the brownstone, the two of them surrounded by their favorite people in the world, a night of board games long abandoned in favor of mocking the eighth season of Game of Thrones.

“God, don’t you have an off switch?” June groans, laughing as she chucks a piece of popcorn in Alex’s direction while he rambles passionately about the international legal implications of the Red Wedding. Nora cackles. “Whatever you do to thank Henry for putting up with you, it’s not nearly enough. Jesus, I can’t believe he put a ring on your loud mouth.”

Or: Alex is fine. Really, he’s fine — he just wants Henry to stay, even if Alex is too much. Henry just wants his husband back.

but i'd put you first a million times over

Henry first noticed it shortly after the Waterloo incident. Apparently, it hadn’t been enough to thrust all their private thoughts and emails into the public eye; they had to be thrust into the limelight as well.

Or the 5 times Henry asked the Crown for better security, plus one time he no longer had to.

(Additional Tags: Protective Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Paparazzi, Hurt/Comfort, 5+1 Things, Hurt Alex Claremont-Diaz, Post-Canon)

in every scenario

Henry can practically hear Alex thinking. They’re curled up in bed, Alex’s head resting on his chest, and his mind is so loud. He can hear it in the rustling of the sheets, in Alex’s hand skating up his ribcage; the anxious curl of his toes against Henry’s ankles. He’s nearly vibrating with thought.

Henry’s hand tucks into the base of Alex’s spine. “Love,” he murmurs, ducking his chin to look down at his boyfriend. “What on earth are you thinking about?”

-

Or, Alex has something important on his mind.

Long fics:

all that glitters (is not gold)

Alex Claremont-Diaz has it all. His mom won the election, he’s got the perfect boyfriend. He gets to love Henry out loud. Everything is great. Perfect.

Except for the itch under his skin every time he goes outside, and the tightness in his chest when he goes online, and the fact that he can’t fucking sleep.

But it's fine. He's fine. Really.

—-

Or: after the emails, Alex Claremont-Diaz isn’t fine.

(The masterpiece. The firstprince sequel. The canon sequel.)

But I love him, whether or no.

Henry moves to New York City to help Pez with the opening of his new bar in the East Village. The location—fortunately for business, but unfortunately for Henry’s sanity—is directly across the street from a fire station. The sound of sirens is bad, Alex the gorgeous firefighter is worse. But when Alex helps Henry avoid a near catastrophe the night of the bar’s opening, the two form a tentative friendship that starts to develop into something more.

(Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Firefighters, Firefighter!Alex, Canon typical mental health issues for Henry, Canon typical struggles with grief for Henry, Canon typical child of divorce issues for Alex, Canon typical struggles with sexuality for Alex, Firefighter injuries, Hospitalization, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Angst with a Happy Ending)

the poem you make of me

After being discovered on Instagram as a teenager, Alex Diaz is thriving as a social media influencer and model who just landed a high profile, high fashion contract with Calvin Klein. Alex can get any girl he wants, and he’s loving it. Meanwhile, British poet Henry Fox has just arrived in L.A. to kick off a North American tour promoting his new, steamy book of gay erotic poetry, and he’s attracting a lot of attention.

Bad blood is immediately sparked between them when Henry blows Alex off at their first meeting. Several tabloid rumors and an Instagram tantrum later, Alex and Henry are reluctantly thrust together to make nice, resulting in a grudging friendship and a magnetism between them that Alex can't explain. Why is Henry's poetry making Alex feel like this? And just what is it about Henry Fox that gets to him so much?

God Save the Blessed American President Mom

["June stopped by at lunch; she showed me a delightful channel called Hallmark, which repeats the same story every hour after they swap one round of white, straight, small-town conventionally beautiful actors for another. It was entertaining.”

“June and I used to play a drinking game with those. Take a shot every time someone goes ice skating, sledding, or leaves the big city for their tiny hometown.”

“Good lord, you must’ve been sloshed in the first ten minutes.”]

***

On December 4, 2021, an attempt is made on President Ellen Claremont's life.

Alex gets shot instead.

How wonderful life is (while you're in the world)

The corner of Henry’s mouth. It’s disappeared now, covered by the oxygen mask fixed securely around his head, but if Alex concentrates hard enough, he can see it sprawled out in front of him. Every ridge, every bend and edge and turn of it.

He knows Henry’s heart. And that’ll be enough.

(or: the one where henry gets shot and alex is a goddamn mess.)

[slavicafire]

oh my GOD this chapter was insane!! Hans is so unashamedly horny about Henry. has he got any experience with men in your fic verse? also rubbing my hands with glee, because Black Bartosch is soon to appear (i hope?). and i bet Hans's reaction to him and Henry would be entirely different than to Klara 😏

ah, thank you, thank you! so much

I don't think he has any experience - the concept isn't entirely foreign to him (truly a man prone to boredom and filling his head with fantasies) but I like the idea of henry being the first man to cause him to actually consider it.

and then, of course, spend weeks fantasising about it while also being utterly convinced it's entirely impossible. he'd never ever act on it, would he? not because henry is a man but because henry is henry. there would be absolutely no chance under the sun that he'd reciprocate. ugh. it'd be so embarrassing. unless? well- no. no way. ANYWAY back to the fantasies, these are safe and have no possibility of rejection!

sodomy's all fine and dandy but being vulnerable and risking the careful balance he imagines himself being in with henry? no way. henry doesn't like men, either, so it'd be soooo pointless. no need to worry about acting on it if it's impossible. whatever. let's go hunting! no need to think about it too much.

and, so - yes. the black bartosch conundrum, as natural as anything else in the world for henry at that point (love that for him), breaks hans' brain for a good long while.

[caffinedragon]

The Wyld Ranger of Skalitz

Feral "werewolf" Henry AU

Chapter 1: That Wyld Blood just hits different.

Story Plot: A Wyld Blooded Henry looses everything in Skalitz. Lost and alone, with no way to calm the protect and provide instincts that demand to be appeased, he does the only thing he can think to do. Provide Sir Radzig his sword, one way or the other.

That is...until a bratty young Lord with a penchant for attracting trouble, comes waltzing into his life and brings back the wolf inside him he had thought died with his family.

TL:DR Chapter Plot: Henry, listing from his loss, with no one to protect and provide for, is lost without purpose. Grieving and restless, he meets Young Capon as he trains with Captain Bernard and sparks a rivalry that leaves his blood pumping and able to feel something other then grief and pain for once.

What he doesn't know is how his more feral tendencies and his DGAF attitude towards the Young Lord's rank has left the man flustered in a way he can't quite explain.

And after trying to wipe his memory form his mind through alcohol, he wakes up to realize, well... he might be cooked.

Fuck!

He really was shit with a sword.

But, that was why he was here training. If he was to do his job well and get the sword back from that prick, he would need to be able to fight.

And not just with his trusty bow.

He would also more than likely need to learn how to read, and have time to sneak back to Skalitz again and find that dovecote Kunesh was talking about.

But, that was neither here nor there.

He wouldn't be able to do any of it if he was slaughtered by bandits, so here he was.

"Good! You learn quick." Captain Bernard praised as he swung.

"Always been a hands on leaner sir." Henry admitted as he blocked the blow, the vibration of the strike running up his arm.

"And it shows. We will make a proper swordsman out of you yet!"

"Thank you sir."

"Captain Bernard?" A familiar voice called form the edge of the arena.

It was that Young Lord...Capen? Caper? Clipin?

Eh, he couldn't remember.

He had always been shit with names.

He did recognize his face though, and how irritated it was when Sir Radzig gave him this assignment.

Not that it was any of his business, mind.

He had other matters to attend to.

As Captain Bernard talked with the nobleman a familiar meow caught his attention. When he looked down at the fence he was leaning on, he found his faithful companion Leaf, her fluffy black fur and bright green eyes ever a soothing sight.

"Hey Leaf, come to watch me stumble around like a toddler, huh?"

She meowed and started purring as he gave her her recompense in pets and scratches. He continued to do so until he heard the young lord call him "Blacksmith's boy" and warn him "don't hurt yourself.", before he took off back towards the castle.

A few minutes later, Captain Bernard was walking him down to the Archery range where, sure enough, the same young lord was firing away at a target.

Huh. He hadn't been kidding when he said he was heavy handed lately.

Was his hand okay?

It looked off.

Ah, Oh well. No business of his. Probably get offended even mentioning it, knowing most nobles.

Once he was handed a bow and a quiver, he got to work, tuning out the insistent droning of the captain explaining things he already knew as he lined up to the target.

The training bow wasn't like his normal bow and was a bit awkward. But with Leaf's help he was able to get a handle on it, despite the insulting comments from the peanut gallery next to him.

Once he hit the target in the middle, the young lord spoke up.

"Lucky Shot. I doubt you can repeat it."

"I needed to get used to the bow. However..."Henry chuckled, turned and stared down the young lord with a smirk, before turning and launching off three more arrows in quick succession, each one clustering around the first at center mass. "I think I understand it now."

"Damn. I hate to say it but, that isn't half bad." Captain Bernard praised, surprised.

Out of habit Henry explained, "I used to hunt around Skalitz when i wasn't forging with my father. Came in handy when food was low."

"Hunting? You mean poaching. There is no way a peasant would be allowed to hunt on a whim."

Henry bit back the growl on his tongue and instead reached into his pocket and raised up the symbol of permission to hunt on Sir Radzigs land. "This enough proof for you?"

"How in the world did you get that?" HE scoffed, "You some noble's bastard?"

He snarled, unable to hide the pain in his chest at the thought of his father. In his anger, he let his mouth run away from him.

"At least I grew up with mine."

Henry immediately winced, regretting the words as soon as they came out of his mouth but it did nothing to soothe his anger.

Luckily, Captain Bernard stepped in. "How dare you speak to him like that? Do you want to end up in the Pillory?"

Henry let out a snarl before turning and grabbing the arrows from his target, hoping that he could loose some of his anger through firing a few more arrows and keep himself form running his mouth further.

Of course, the young lord didn't want to take the hint.

"Don't worry about it, Captain Bernard. he may have grown up with his father, but by the way he is acting, his mother was clearly a bitch."

He responded before he could catch himself and fired an arrow at the young lord, sinking it right between his feet.

Once he realized what he did, he hissed at himself and braced for Captain Bernard to drag him off to the Pillory.

But instead, much to his surprise and fascination, the young lord wasn't angry. Instead he looked at him in shock with a confused flush to his face.

He sniffed the air, subtly towards him.

Was that melon he smelled?

Huh. Interesting.

"That is it, boy!" Captain Bernard yelled right before the young lord stepped in.

"Clam yourself, Captain. Perhaps, since he is so keen to show off his archery skills, why don't we solve this with a competition."

His anger cooled as the wolf in him perked his ears up. "Oh?" He smirked as he stalked towards the fence line, the smell of melons getting stronger as he approached. "Interested in seeing if your skill can match to one who hunts for survival instead of sport?"

"You think your self taught skills can compete against classical training?"

Henry walked up into his space, unable to keep his smirk from turning feral. as he saw the young man's face heat further, his hunting instinct woke up for the first time since Skalitz, "We will just have to see won't we? What's the game?"

"S-seven arrows." He stammered out as he stepped back, shaking his head causing the melon scent to fade and Henry's smile to soften. "Highest score wins. My bow versus your coin. Deal?"

Henry nodded, "Deal."

As the young lord began firing, Henry closed his eyes and took a deep calming breath, banishing any remaining anger from his mind and letting his body still. When he opened his eyes, his competitor had already gone through half his arrows and by the time he drew his bow, only had one shot left.

Hans...that was his name...then stood proudly, his hip cocked against the fence after he was done and waited.

10. He had to beat 10.

He was used to shooting rabbits and deer. A still target would be easy.

One slow draw and release after another added points on the board.

With each thunk he saw the pride leak out of his eyes.

With each slow draw the smell of melons around him deepened until it soaked the air.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw as Hans just stared at him, his eyes darkening and dilating with each pull, never once looking at the target.

With one final pull, he loosed an arrow and as it soared through the air, he locked eyes with him until it thunked into the bullseye.

Hans did not look away, his eyes blown wide.

His face was flushed.

He could hear his heart racing.

The melon scent, he realized, was coming from him.

And it had nothing to due with the cologne he was wearing.

"13!" Captain Bernard announced, breaking the spell that had fallen over the two men. "It seems Henry is the winner."

Henry shook his head and rolled his shoulders as the world snapped back into place around him like someone slamming a door.

"Of course he is." The venom in Hans's voice wasn't as thick as it had been before. "But I did tell you Captain, that my hand has been heavy since i fell during my last hunt."

"Perhaps another challenge then?" Henry offered, the wolf in him still desperately wanting to play after so long.

"That's a fine idea! I challenge you to a duel, do you accept?"

"Lead the way."

He knew that the chance of winning this bout was next to none.

Hans was clearly highly trained in the use of a blade.

But, when his blood started pumping and his adrenaline kicked in, it no longer mattered.

The wolf and he were one now, and the world had long since faded away.

All he could see was Hans in front of him, heaving and panting, sweat dripping down a slender neck he wanted to sink his teeth into.

There was no, Rattay, no Skalitz, no peasants or nobles.

Just the hunt.

And young Hans Capon was his prey.

A wide feral grin warped his face as he used what little bit of swordplay training he had and his superior strength and speed as a wyldblood to even the battlefield.

He had Hans on his back foot, pressuring him up against the fence. His eyes were wide, afraid, but his face was flush again and the smell of melons soaked his skin.

It made him want to tear the clothes from his skin and devour him until he was a quaking and shivering mess in the dirt.

Fuck he smelled delicious and he was starving.

However, the fantasy was broken as soon as his inexperience gave Hans the opening he needed to give back just as good as he got.

When he returned the favor, the young lord's face was as equally feral and grinning, eyes shinning as he beat him back with his superior training.

They went back and forth, two wild souls at play in the middle of the combat ring.

No status.

No world outside.

Nothing but them, and the combat arena around them.

However, despite his long marathon hunts, the stamina used while wielding a bow is much less than that of swinging a sword, and it is that that ultimately fails him.

In a moment of fatigue, Hans got the upper hand, knocking him into his back in the mud.

Before he could even think of getting up on his feet, Hans had straddled him, resting his blade across his neck.

Hans panted once, twice, then removed his blade and begun laughing.

"Ah. Jesus Chirst!" He sighed, "I haven't had a fight like that in...well...ever to be perfectly honest." With a groan he got up and sheathed his blade. "Everyone is so desperate to not anger me that they always coddle me. You are a surprise my good man. Here, take my hand. Let me help you up."

Henry took the help without question. "I honestly didn't think I would last that long. I am shit with a sword."

"If that is you being shit with a sword, i shutter to think what it would be like if you were actually good." he chuckled. "Nevertheless, since you beat me at archery but not with the sword, i get to keep my bow and you your grocen."

"Sounds fair."

"Well, after that, I don't know about you but I am famished." Henry noticed the slight shake in his voice and how strategically his hands and sword were placed and tried not to smile. "I think i will go and grab some lunch. God speed Blacksmith, and don't worry, this will not be the last time we meet. We'll have more fun like this again soon."

"Looking forward to it."

He then walked out of the arena, in a hurry, the scent of melons slowly fading as he walked away.

A part of him was saddened to see him leave but...

The rest was thoroughly enjoying watching him walk away.

"Don't be too beaten up about losing, lad. It was probably for the best. Noble's like him get real testy and are quick to anger. I doubt Lord Capon would have taken the loss well."

The words "noble" and "Lord" dumped a bucket of ice water on his head.

Fuck. Right.

He was a Lord.

Ah well.

Henry shook the thoughts from his mind before answering, "Win or lose, it was fun. I needed that, after everything. Anyway," he turned to face the Captain, "is there anything more for training?"

"Not today. What you need to do is pick up your kit from the guardhouse and report to the Bailiff. He will tell you what to do."

"Got it. On my way then."

Ever onward ever forward.

---

As soon as Hans reached his room and locked the door behind him, he grabbed the nearest pillow and screamed into it.

After his breath ran out, he removed his face from the fabric, took a deep breath, and repeated the process.

After the third scream was muffled with the pillow, he dropped onto the edge of his bed and started hitting his forehead with the edge of it as he groaned to himself.

Once the initial meltdown had passed he dropped the pillow to the floor and began pacing.

"Jesus Christ..." He grumbled to the open air, "What the fuck is wrong with me? He is a peasant! Some Blacksmith's son!" He pulled on his hair as he continued to wear a hole in his boots and the floor. "Besides, He is a man, for fuck's sake!"

His mind filled his head with the memory of him holding his bow, slowly drawing it back with a fluid grace even he couldn't manage. The muscles in his arms rippling, his eyes sharp and focused, right before gently letting loose the bow string.

"A man with...thick arms...nimble fingers...and gorgeous blue-" he grabbed the pillow again and doubled over as he screamed into the soft fabric square for a fourth time.

It did little to stop his mind from betraying him again as it replayed how that Blacksmith's boy had practically stalked over to him before the Archery competition.

It followed the image up with the feral and predatory smile the man had during their bout after. No fear. No holding back.

His blue eyes had been filled with so much untamed hunger and want that it had distracted him, allowing Henry to get the upper hand and backing him up against the fence.

He had never been looked at like that by anyone. Even those who claimed to desire him had not had so much blatant and earnest desire in their eyes.

It had made him feel like a rabbit being bared down on by a ravenous wolf that wanted to be devoured.

He had wanted to bear his neck and let the wolf claim him, tear him apart and then leave nothing left but bones in the middle of the arena.

It was only when Henry had overextended his swing that his training had kicked in and the thoughts had fled his mind in favor of the fight at hand.

"God..." He whined as he sunk into the end of his bed and flopped back onto his back. "I am insane. I must be." He groaned as he rubbed his face with his hands. "He is a nothing. A nobody. A peasant."

A hunter.

A wolf in a man's skin.

A Wyld Blood that did not care that he was staring a noble in the face.

A man who did not see a noble when he looked at him.

As he rested his hands on his chest, his mind betrayed him again, filling his head with the guards he had spied in the stables when he was 16, reminding him of what could be possible between two men and setting his mind to racing.

He thought of the woods, his sanctuary away from all the noise and nonsense of nobility as he brought one hand to his mouth.

As the other began to slowly drift down, he imagined himself running through the green, the moon high and full overhead as he was being chased like a deer through the trees.

Behind him, hot on his heels, was Henry of Skalitz, eyes a blaze with the same fire and hunger he saw in that arena, gaining on him no matter how fast he got his legs to move.

He could hear his voice calling his name, beckoning him to just give up. To let him have him.

Hans, it is of no use. You can't outrun me. Just be a good boy and let me have you.

His hand slid lower to the edge of his breeches as he imagined himself coming to a dead end, trapped with no where to go as familiar boots prowled towards him.

His fingers play with the edge as Henry stalked up to him, licking his lips like had before and staring at him as if he was a slab of the juiciest and most tender meat and he was starving.

There you are. No where to run now, little rabbit. He purrs at him as he steps into the moonlight, blue eyes glowing and hungry, muscles rippling as he pulls himself through the trees.

In his mind He slips and falls onto his back as Henry pounces on him with a growl, clawing at his clothes, shredding them to ribbons as he-

Hans jumped up off the bed, violently interrupting his own thought as he grabbed and screamed into his pillow for a fifth time.

"Fuck!" He hissed as he dragged his free hand across his face, "What am I, a bitch in heat? Jesus fucking Christ. I literally just met the man!" He drops the pillow to the floor as he glances towards his door. "Fuck, I need a drink."

Several drinks, a bar fight and a full nights sleep later, Hans is on the edge of his bed again, lightly hitting himself with the flat side of his trusty hunting bow.

The clarity of a good nights sleep punching him in the gut.

"I am an asshole and a moron." He insulted himself as he stopped hitting himself and leaned on the bow instead, staring into the morning fire.

Not only has he treated Henry dishonorably for something that wasn't his fault, he was an absolute prick to the one person, in probably his entire life, that let him feel just like everybody else for once.

And now, because of a drunken tirade at the man's expense, he has to take him hunting with him.

It was a far sight better than having to sit in on one of his guardian's meetings but now he has to take someone who possibly hates his guts out into the woods alone with him.

Not that he would blamed him after the way he acted.

He had been a right prick.

But now...

"Oh god, i have to take him hunting with me." He sighed as he rested his bow across his lap in the wee hours of the morning. "Hopefully he doesn't hunt ME down and have me for dinner. We will be all alone in the woods, no one would kno-"

Wait...

He sat up straight as the craziest idea invaded his brain, foolishly fed by the fantasy from the day before.

Fuck.

No one would know.

No one would be around.

Just the two of them, sharing the same camp, sharing the same food, sleeping in the same-

"Stop it, me." He berated himself again. "He is more likely wanting to stab you in the back then do...anything close to that. The most you might get him to due is give you hunting tips. If he doesn't just stab you in the back first."

But the thought persisted and would not be denied.

He would see Henry in his element.

The wolf on the hunt, prowling the wilds in search of prey.

A creature of the Wyld, with beautiful blue eyes and a feral hungry grin doing as his nature bid him too do.

Running free and bound by nothing and no one.

Something he desperately wanted to do.

His eyes drifted over to the two most worn books on his shelf as his imagination started to run away with him again.

Of Wyld Blood and The Tale of Two Knights.

He knew what Henry was.

He knew as soon as he saw the strange black cat with piercing green eyes on the fence.

And he felt guilty for fetishizing him the way he clearly was doing because of it but...

With the way he had looked at him...

And how free he had felt in that arena with him...

Lord have mercy, but he couldn't help himself.

He tore his gaze away from the books to look back down at the bow in his hands and bit his lip, knowing what he would be doing in less then an hour.

"Oh God...I have to take him hunting with me... Christ give me strength not to do anything stupid..."

[mentally-unstable-hottie13]

⭐️𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐬⭐️

Henry Bowers x fem! Reader

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

chapter 4

Chapter summery: first day of school jitters

Word count: 2,793

Estimated read time: 13 minutes

A/N: we are ever so slowly getting closer and closer to what y’all came here for!

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Chapter 3

Oh aren’t you just a ray of sunshine

Bam!

You felt the sting of a fist across your face.

Bam!

Another.

Bam!

And then another.

The hits stopped about when you almost passed out.

They never stopped when you cried. Or when you said please.

You watched your mother get off of you.

Glancing at the blood on your knuckles as she stood, you couldn’t tell if it was hers or yours.

You waited until you heard the door to her and your fathers room lock before you crawled to the door and opened it. Using the door handle as leverage to stand. You wobbled to the mirror to look at yourself. You find yourself bloody and bruised with a black eye already swollen shut and blood coming out of every part of your face.

The phone on your bed rang!

You woke up with a jolt! Heavily panting and breathing. As you tried to figure out where the fuck you were. You were home. Killer was asleep at your feet and Kevin was just downstairs. You were home. You jump out of bed and rush to the closest mirror. You examine your face. It’s fine. Perfectly fine. Not a cut, not a bruise, not even a pimple. You sighed.

You look at the clock by the mirror on your desk to find that it’s only 20 minutes before you were planning on waking up. School starts today. Yippie.

Yesterday Kev didn’t take you into town because there was no reason to. The town was dead. Everyone was focused on getting ready. So you and Kevy sat at home and relaxed. You didn’t need new clothes because no one knew these clothes were actually like 2 years old. You didn’t need to go supply shopping because the teachers would tell you what you needed the first few days of school. When it was starting to get late Kevin suggested you sleep in your own bed with killer to get as much rest as possible. Much to your discomfort. You agreed. You open the blinds to your balcony and sit in your robe against the railing. Soon killer woke up and nudged you with his head. You kissed his stupid face and started to get ready.

You showered the night before so you were clean. You quickly did your makeup and got dressed in some Jeans and a baby blue knitted sweater. You put your hair up into a loose clip and stuffed you work clothes (pantyhose, shorts and a loose band tee with cut neckline so it hung off your shoulder. Along with a cardigan sweater in case you got cold.) into your cloth messenger bag and went downstairs with killer. You quickly fed him and got yourself some juice before going to Kev's room.

“Kevy, I gotta go now” you said quietly.

“There's an old bike with a basket in the farm shed so you don’t have to walk. Don’t let killer out” he grumbled and the turned over to face away from you.

The thought of everything, you smiled to yourself. You locked up the house with killer scratching at the door, before wandering to the farm shed. You found a perfect light blue bike with a wicker basket attached to the front. You wheeled it out, Checked the tires, and once you deemed them good you set your bag in the basket and rode off making sure to lock the property gate. As you rode down the main dirt road you noticed that the pigs police cruiser wasn’t there. But that asshole's blue car was. You didn’t stop and continued riding until you got to the main entrance of Derry high school. You rode your way to the farthest most hidden bike rack and locked up your bike. This rack was more hidden because of how far it was from a usable entrance. There was a door here but it looks to have been blocked off for some reason.

As you are walking back to the main entrance the bell rings.

“Ah fuck” you mumble to yourself before you start jogging to the entrance. You have no fucking idea where your classes are and you don’t know who to ask for help. You get through the front main doors and almost instantly feel eyes on you. You look too old to be a freshman but no one has ever seen you. You stick out. Hell, even the freshmen are looking at you. You are new in town and everyone knows it. You keep your head high and walk around trying to find your first period. You eventually figure out all core classes are coded by hundreds. So your first hour. Chemistry is in the 600 hall. By the time you figure that out, the bell has rung and you are the last person in the halls.

How the fuck is that possible? How do the freshman know where their fucking classes are? You groan and walk to your class. When you go to open the door to room 605 it’s locked. With another groan you knock loudly. You hear the woman’s loud voice inside halt and you hear footsteps stomping over to you. ‘This should be good’ you think to yourself sourly. The door opens and an old large woman greets you.

“Your late” she spits as she gestures you inside, closing the door behind you.

“I know” you reply.

“Why?”

“Excuse me?” You question. What does she mean why? It’s the frist day of school.

“Why were you late?” She repeated bitterly.

“It’s the first day of school” you state and a couple of the kids at the lab benches snort. You are becoming increasingly aware that you and the teacher are standing in front of the class, basically arguing.

“That is no excuse. The class tours were 2 weeks ago. you should have attended” she spits at you once again.

You are getting so frustrated and annoyed with this conversation you want to hit something. You didn’t want to put the spotlight on being the new kid today but it looks like you’ll have to.

“Listen miss. I wasn’t even fully packed to move here 2 weeks ago. I was officially enrolled 5 days ago and just got my schedule 3 days ago. I got lost. May I please sit down?” You snap at her.

She looked surprised at your tone and hurried over to her desk to find a clipboard.

“Ah I’ve found you. It appears the only free seat is with mr Bowers in the back”

All the students tensed. Oh how bad could it be? You walk down the rows to see an empty Seat in the aisle. Shame. You would have loved the window seat to look outside. As you pass the last few students you see the boy sitting in the window seat. He’s really cute. You look at him for a second, scanning him. Brown mullet. Tall. Sleeveless shirt. His arms are crossed and he looks pissed. You sit down before he can notice your staring. Maybe if you get here early next time you can take the window seat. Though he doesn't exactly look nice enough to be beat to a seat. The large woman talks about nothing for about an hour and then the bell rings.

That annoying ass conversation happened with every teacher for the first three periods. You didn’t know where the fuck anything was. This school was weirdly bigger than your last one. Finally it was lunch and all the students were allowed off campus to eat. You hadn’t seen any of those really nice kids from next to the diner yet so you decided to wander around outside. Strangely enough that’s where you saw them. By the bike rack. They saw you too. The girl you remember as Beverly waved you down with a big smile. You jogged over to them and greeted them.

“W-w-we were just ab-b-b-bout to go get some food. Wan-n-n-a come with?” Billy asked.

“Sure!” you replied and they all hopped on their bikes.

Mike was the one to notice you didn’t have one.

“Do you need a ride?” He asked sweetly.

“Oh no I have a bike I just have to go get it. Is that okay with y’all?”

They all nod and you smile and lightly jog away to the hidden bike rack. As you are coming back you hear a commotion. You duck behind a pillar and peek out to look at those kids being picked on. They are being pushed and shoved by a really tall guy, with longish hair, a chubby guy with a hat, a skinny guy with dyed blonde hair, and that cute guy from chem class. You watch as that bowers guy goes up to Bill and licks his palm before smearing it on Bill's face. The boys laugh and get into that blue sports car. Of fucking course. The boys drive off and you run to the others with your bike.

“Are y’all okay? I saw a little of what happened!¿Estás herido?” (Are you hurt?)

Stanley turned to you looking sad. “That was just Bowers and his goons”

Richie chimed in “they fuck with us all the time. Look what they did to Ben here” Richie grabbed the bottom of Ben’s shirt and lifted it up revealing an almost healed cut in the letter H. Ben quickly shoved his shirt back down and glared at Richie. Obviously embarrassed that you saw his stomach less than a day of knowing him.

Eddie pipes up “who cares, they aren’t here anymore and I need to take my meds with food. can we please just fucking leave?”

You wonder if Eddie always seemed this on edge. All of you bike to a nearby food truck and enjoy some bullshit tacos and burgers.

“What class you got next, new kid?” Beverly nudges you with a smile.

“Oh I actually don’t know yet” you pull out your phone to check. “Remedial math 2 in room 108… where the fuck is 108?? I ain’t seen a 100 hall in this fucken school.” You grumble to yourself and Beverly laughs.

“Yeah the map of this place is pretty hard to Learn. I have that class too. So does Richie. We can help you get there.”

“Thank god. All day I’ve had to announce to asshole teachers and their classrooms ‘IM NEW’. Might as well just write on my forehead and call myself the constitution with how I got people lookin’ at me.”you sigh.

“Where are you from? You have an accent.” Stanly asks.

“Oh it pains me that you noticed I have that.” You whine dramatically.

“Don’t worry,” he laughs. “It’s not bad. you can just hear it on certain words”

“I’m from Texas” you answer.

“Oh that totally makes sense” Ben says

“I beg your pardon” you raise your eyebrow at him not sure if you should be offended.

He immediately gets flustered at the thought of making you offended “I don’t mean anything by it I just mean you seem like someone from Texas you know. Kind of intimidating but really really kind…” he trails off.

“He means you have a resting bitch face” Richie proclaimed then took a fat bite of his greasy burger.

Ben immediately tried to defend himself but you started laughing so hard you snorted, making everyone else laugh. you knew you had a resting bitch face. It was just funny to hear how hard Ben tried to dodge saying it.

The group finished their food and you all rode off back to the school. They locked their bikes up then walked you to lock yours. Then Beverly and Richie walked you to class. The teacher gives you an assigned seat in the second to last row all the way to the right. To your displeasure that Bowers guy walked in as you sat down and walked to the seat right behind you with his chubby friend a row ahead and to the left of you and 2 seats to the right of Richie. Thank god Beverly was at the front row and on the complete other side of these assholes. The class continued again with no real topic. The end of class came and as Richie stood to get up the chubby asshole and Bowers made their way to him. grabbing him and pulling him aside. You looked at Beverly and she nodded at you to leave while she took care of it. You felt bad but you did as she said.

The rest of the day flew by and before you knew it school was over. You walked out of school to find some of the group at your secluded little bike rack by the blocked off door. It was Mike , Ben, Beverly and Stanley. you all talked as you waited for the others to meet up there. I guess this was the new spot to dodge the group of dicks running through the school.

Eventually the others come out and give you a quick goodbye as you run back into the school and into a bathroom stall. You take off your jeans and put on your pantyhose then your jeans over them. Just so you aren’t caught naked from the waist down on the way to work. You loved your pantyhose because they had built in shorts. No one would be catching you ass out. You thought to yourself.

You walked out of the bathroom and back to your bike. You rode off the way to work and stopped at the bridge. You had to cross it anyway to get to work and no one was around. why not get changed here? You shed your sweater quickly and get the band tee out of your basket and put it on. Next you took off your shoes and jeans and as fast as you could, slid on your shorts. You slipped on your light black cardigan sweater. Then You threw your shoes in the basket, and rode to the shop without them.

There was one thing you were wrong about. You weren’t alone. There was a blue Trans Am parked just to the side of the bridge in a parking lot you didn’t see.

All the other boys were inside stealing some smokes while Henry Bowers sat in the front seat and watched you.

New girl with a tattoo?

How interesting.

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You hop off your bike and grab your bag. Quickly locking it in the bike rack in front of the store before heading inside.

“Honey I’m home!” You playfully yell. You can almost hear his eye roll from the isle he’s in.

“I’m organizing. Can you manage the front?” He shouts back.

You run to where you hear his voice.

“Only if I can play one of the guitars, I need to relax before I invent my own saw trap out of these vinyls. Make a saw from records and lower myself onto it just to get away from the hick town.” You groan.

“Well aren’t you just a ray of fuckin’ sunshine” He laughs at your dramatics. You always did have a way with words. “Sure, no one is in right now so go crazy.”

You jump with excitement and sprint to the guitars. You find a beautiful pink custom fender electric and take it off the wall. You run over to the front desk, plug it into the amp and begin to play whatever comes to mind.

You missed this.

You know it may seem redundant to think about but you feel so relaxed around Kevin. You feel home. Even if this town sucks and you can’t stand more than a few people. It’s home because he is here. You are playing guitar while he organizes like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like he never left. Like momma is sitting at home waiting for y’all to barge in and distract her from her rewatch of Jersey shore. Like Issac is sitting in his room playing video games. You know they aren’t though. That burns deep in your chest. But you and Kevin have each other. That’s all y’all need for now.

“I love that song” Kevin quips at you from the floor of aisle 2.

You hadn’t realized but you began playing some dumbass dad Rock song. It was the rock version of Smooth Criminal by Alien Ant Hill. You continue to play with a smile. That was before some people came in and immediately started roughhousing around record players. Kevin got up and walked to you with an empty crate in hand.

“You deal with these freaks. You don’t know how to sort yet and I really gotta get this done.”

You nod and continue strumming to the song in your head.

He smiles and walks to the back room where killer is sleeping. You turn down the volume of the amp to see the boys, Who you only now recognize as the Bowers gang, huddled together by the CD’s.

‘Oh fuck’ you internally groan. This is gonna fucking suck.

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Hope you liked it!!

[yourartmatters-itswhatgotmehere]

ah all that RWRB joy / RWRB important links in this LONG post♥

edit above of the fans recording THE moment from: https://twitter.com/galitzinerry/status/1789088497879638130 & https://twitter.com/theartim/status/1789082602751873308

.https://ew.com/taylor-zakhar-perez-honors-nicholas-galitzine-entertainers-of-the-year-2024-8759399 +CAST OF RED WHITE & ROYAL BLUE |FYC Panel - Consider Amazon:https://www.tumblr.com/yourartmatters-itswhatgotmehere/769737016086839297?source=share

.

BTW for everyone interested: Red, White & Royal Blue: Collector's Edition Henry PoV bonus chapter by Casey Mcquiston : https://www.tumblr.com/yourartmatters-itswhatgotmehere/752528941905018880?source=share

+CMQ spotify (characters' playlists!!) https://open.spotify.com/user/p873j0jdmqn5hye7cakdnub7e/playlists

-12 mins cast & crew interview here:

-nearly 30mins Q & A from the screening in GREAT quality:

-ily matthew for saying this:

-my Alex:

-my FIRSTPRINCE:

-FIRSTPRINCE EDITS LINKS (many) :

-Arthur Fox & Henry Fox:

-important RWRB post (lots of links there)

-RWRB deleted scenes:

-RWRB-coming out :

-another IMPORTANT RWRB post:

my RWRB (1) ig highlight: https://www.instagram.com/stories/highlights/18198132073262637/

my RWRB (2) ig highlight: https://www.instagram.com/stories/highlights/18037791823861597/

♥.

[pxnsneverland]

Ruthless Grace | Austin Butler x OC (part 2)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

plot summary: Amidst the grime and squalor of Victorian England's winding cobblestone alleys, a young woman's life hangs precariously in the balance. Violet, a poor peasant girl with long raven locks and piercing gray eyes, possesses a haunting beauty that belies the harsh realities of her existence. Tragedy struck two years prior when Violet's mother succumbed to illness, leaving her to fend for herself and her father – a cruel, selfish man consumed by vices of alcohol and gambling. On one fateful night, Violet's father drags her unwillingly to that very den of iniquity, and there she learns a horrifying truth from the club's greedy, perverted owner: to repay his mounting gambling debts, her father has sold her into sexual servitude. Violet's vehement protests fall on deaf ears, until an unlikely savior emerges from the shadows. Lord Austin Butler intervenes with a bargain of his own. This dangerous man offers to pay off Violet's father's debts in exchange for her accompaniment, and Violet is torn from the only life she has known. While Austin's demeanor remains shrouded in mystery and detachment at first, Violet gradually glimpses his softer, even playful side as time passes within the manor's walls and an unexpected connection blossoms between the unlikely pair.

pairings: austin butler x oc

word count: 3,025

warnings/notes: Still kind of an introductory/background chapter. But Austin does get introduced in this one :)

Chapter 2: An Unwelcome Visitor

One particularly bleak morning brought more than typical London drizzle; it brought Mr. Henry Cartwright—or 'Rat,' as he was aptly nicknamed—slinking through the narrow, cobbled streets towards their humble abode. His arrival was never without dread; his shadow seemed to cast a pall over whatever it touched, and today, its reach felt more chilling than usual. Violet watched from behind the partially closed door as this man who held her fate in his greasy palms approached. She could see the false smile plastered on his face, a grimace disguised as a greeting.

“Miss Everly,” Henry Cartwright began, his voice smooth like oil, but with an edge that hinted at the impatience beneath. “Your father has failed to meet his obligations again. And here I find myself, contemplating what measures to take to assure his... cooperation.”

Violet’s heart sank. She knew too well what this meant: further debts, more threats, or worse—actualization of those threats. The room felt colder as he stepped inside, the door closing behind him with a definitive thud.

“I have no money to give you, Mr. Cartwright,” Violet said quietly, her gaze steady despite the fear gnawing at her insides. Her voice carried a defiance born not of hope but of resignation to whatever might come next.

Cartwright chuckled darkly, pacing slowly around the sparse room as if appraising it for valuables that did not exist. "Ah, but my dear," he sneered, eyes glinting with a cruel amusement as he stopped to face her, "it's not your money I'm after. You must understand, the debts of your father have grown too substantial to be ignored any longer."

Violet felt the walls close in, the weight of her impending doom pressing down on her shoulders. The silence that followed was suffocating, broken only by the distant sound of a horse-drawn cart rattling over cobblestones outside. Henry Cartwright's gaze was like a vise, tightening with every second she remained silent.

"You see, Miss Everly," Rat continued, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper as he leaned closer, "your father's ineptitude has forced my hand. There's a certain... clientele at my club who would pay handsomely for the company of someone as rare and beautiful as you. It would certainly settle his accounts... and maybe even leave some over for your own keep."

Violet recoiled as if struck. The very air around her seemed to thicken with revulsion. Her mind raced, desperate for an escape from this nightmare, but her body felt frozen, ensnared by the horrifying reality of Rat's proposition. Rat's smirk widened as he observed her horror, taking perverse pleasure in the power he wielded over her. Violet's heart pounded mercilessly against her ribcage, each beat a drum of panic. Yet, amidst the terror, a spark of her indomitable spirit flickered to life.

"No," she whispered, the word barely audible yet loaded with all the conviction she could muster. Rat paused, his expression shifting to one of surprise and then quickly to anger.

"What did you say?" he hissed, stepping closer.

Violet straightened up, her gray eyes hardening like flint. "I said no." Her voice gained strength from somewhere deep within her, a place untouched by fear or despair. "I am not a coin to be traded at your whim."

Rat laughed, a cold, humorless sound. "You might think you have a choice in this matter, Miss Everly, but let me assure you — you do not. This is not just your fate but also a solution to your father’s incompetence."

"I would rather die than live at the mercy of your vile desires," Violet retorted, her defiance lighting up her gaunt features.

The amusement on Rat’s face vanished, replaced by a menacing scowl. "Be careful, young lady. You are in no position to issue threats. Remember, I can make your life exceedingly difficult."

Violet's resolve did not falter, though her heart trembled within her chest. She knew the danger of antagonizing a man like Rat, but the thought of subjugation under his control was more terrifying than any threat he could utter.

"Then you shall have to do what you must," Violet said, her voice steady, though inside she felt like a fragile bird in a storm.

Rat's eyes narrowed, his lips twisting into a cruel sneer. "Very well, Miss Everly. Since you choose defiance, expect no mercy from me." With those chilling words, he turned on his heel and strode towards the door, each step heavy with menace.

As the door slammed shut behind him, Violet slumped against the wall, her legs weak with relief and fear. Tears threatened to spill over — not merely from fright but also from a deep-seated rage against the injustice of her plight and the depravity of men like Rat. In the silence that followed Rat's departure, the small, dimly lit room felt both sanctuary and prison. Violet's breaths came in ragged gasps, each one a battle against the despair that threatened to engulf her. Her father, who had been silent during the entire confrontation, now looked at her with a mix of bewilderment and indifference. His gaze was glazed, numbed by alcohol and years of moral decay.

"Violet, you shouldn't have spoken to him like that," he slurred, his voice barely rising above a whisper. "You've just made things worse for us."

Violet turned to face her father, her expression wrought with a mixture of pain and defiance. "Made things worse? How, Father? By refusing to be sold like property?" Her voice trembled from the intense emotion that churned within her, but her stance was resolute. "No, Father, it is you who have made things worse with your recklessness."

Edward Everly shuffled uncomfortably, his bloodshot eyes avoiding her piercing gaze. "You don't understand, Violet.”

"That does not excuse you from your vices!" Violet's words cut through the dim room like a blade. The very air seemed charged with her fury, an electric tension that made even Edward shift uneasily on his feet.

Edward's gaze shifted again, landing on the grimy window pane as if seeking an escape from Violet’s searing condemnation. “You think it’s easy? Surviving in this godforsaken place?” His voice cracked, an unusual display of emotion from a man she knew more as a figure of stubborn indifference and cruelty.

“Survival does not necessitate the selling of one’s soul,” Violet retorted sharply, her eyes never leaving his face despite the sting of tears that blurred her vision.

A shadow passed over Edward’s face—a flicker of guilt, perhaps, or merely resentment at being challenged. “You don’t know the burdens I carry,” he muttered, turning away from her piercing eyes.

Violet felt a momentary pang of pity for the man who had once been her protector, before quickly steeling her heart against it. "And you, Father, have never understood the burden of your actions on others," she replied softly, yet with a steeliness that surprised even her.

The tension between them stretched taut as a bowstring. Edward stood, his jaw clenched, the veins in his neck bulging with suppressed rage. The flickering candlelight cast eerie shadows on his face, making him look more monster than man. Abruptly, he grabbed his coat from the hook by the door and yanked it on with jerky movements.

"Where are you going?" Violet asked, her voice steady despite the fear that gripped her heart.

"To settle things with Rat," Edward growled, his words slurring together as he struggled to maintain control over his enflamed emotions.

Without waiting for a response, Edward stumbled out of the room, his heavy boots echoing against the wooden floorboards. Violet watched him go, a whirlwind of emotions churning within her. Fear for what her father might do in his drunken state mixed with fury at his betrayal and sadness for the broken shell of a man he had become.

Left alone, Violet’s thoughts raced as she pondered her next move. The walls of the dank room felt like they were closing in on her, each shadow playing tricks on her eyes as if mocking her plight. She knew that standing up to Rat had probably only bought her a brief reprieve. Men like him did not take defiance lightly, and she had no illusions about the lengths to which he would go to assert his control.

The sound of raucous laughter and clinking glasses from down below reminded her of where she was — in the bowels of a club. Rising to her feet, she wiped the tears from her cheeks, refusing to allow them any further claim on her spirit. With quiet steps, she went down the stairs and approached the door that led into the club.

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

The dimly lit back room of the club was thick with the smell of stale beer and tobacco smoke, a miasma that clung to every surface as obstinately as the patrons clung to their vices. Violet's heart hammered in her chest, each beat a loud echo in her ears that seemed to drown out the low murmur of conversation around her. She stood stiffly beside her father, her fingers clenched tightly around the fabric of her worn skirt. Rat sat behind a cluttered desk covered in papers and empty glasses, his beady eyes appraising Violet like a merchant assessing a piece of merchandise. Edward shifted uncomfortably beside her, his gaze avoiding hers.

"Ah, the gem of the night," Rat exclaimed with a greasy smile, his voice dripping with feigned delight.

Violet felt a shiver course through her spine at his words, her skin crawling under the weight of his gaze. She remained silent, her lips pressed into a thin line, as Rat stood and circled around the desk with the predatory grace of a vulture swooping down on its prey. He stopped inches from her, his fetid breath brushing against her face as he leaned in close.

"You'll do nicely," he murmured, his eyes gleaming with unwholesome anticipation. Violet recoiled instinctively, but Rat's hand shot out, gripping her chin with a firmness that made escape impossible.

“Get your hands off of me,” Violet spat struggling to keep her eyes locked on his. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her weak.

Rat snickered roughly letting go of her chin. “You’ve got fire. I’ll be sure to do something about that quickly.”

“What are you talking about?” Violet raised a brow.

Edward's laugh, a hollow sound devoid of any paternal warmth, grated on her nerves. "Now, now, Violet, be good," he chided, his words slurred slightly as he took another swig from the bottle he had managed to procure upon their arrival.

Rat's chuckle was low and menacing as he turned his attention back to Violet's father. "Edward, you've truly outdone yourself this time," he sneered, eyeing Violet like a hawk regarding its next meal. His voice lowered into a conspiratorial whisper, though loud enough for Violet to overhear. "Remember our agreement. She's mine until the debts are squared away."

Violet felt her blood run cold at his words, the finality of her situation crashing down around her like the walls of a decrepit house succumbing to its own decay. A surge of panic threatened to overwhelm her, but she quashed it quickly, her instinct for survival sharpening her focus. She needed to think, to plan, not simply react.

"Never," she breathed, her voice trembling not from fear, but from a fierce resolve that took even her by surprise. Violet turned sharply to face her father, stepping forward so that they were eye-to-eye, forcing him to confront the reality of what he had done. "How could you?" The accusation was more than a question; it was a denouncement of every moment of neglect and abuse she had suffered under his care.

Edward, his face a mixture of inebriated confusion and dim irritation, tried to formulate a response, a pathetic attempt at justification hanging limply between them. "It's all for the best," he stuttered, his eyes not meeting hers. "You'll have food and—a roof."

Violet's laugh was bitter, laced with incredulity and contempt. "A roof? A cage, more like," she retorted sharply, her anger giving her voice a steely edge. "You barter away your flesh and blood for a few coins to squander on your vices. You are less than a man."

Edward's face reddened, his eyes briefly flashing with something that might have been shame, but it was quickly drowned out by a resurgence of his habitual defiance. "You don't understand the pressures I'm under!" he shouted back, his voice rising over the din of the club.

"I understand perfectly," Violet countered coldly. "I understand that you are a coward, Father. A coward who would sell his daughter to shield himself from his own failures."

The room seemed to hold its breath, the usual cacophony momentarily subdued as patrons turned to witness the spectacle unfolding. Rat, sensing the shift in atmosphere, clapped his hands with mock cheerfulness. "Enough of this family drama," he interjected smoothly, his tone brooking no argument. "Violet, you are now under my care. Edward, you know the terms. Don't make this uglier than it needs to be."

With a disdainful glance at her father, Violet pulled her arm free from his grasp and took a step back, distancing herself both physically and emotionally. Her heart pounded fiercely against her ribcage, each thud resonating with the resolve that hardened in her eyes. She wouldn't let despair consume her; she would fight, somehow.

“Now, Now, Cartwright,” came a voice that belonged to a hooded figure seated near them at the opposite table. “You should know better than to do your dastardly deeds in the open.” The figure removed his hood revealing a young man with blue eyes and blonde hair that flickered in the candlelight.

Rat sneered. “Lord Butler. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Stay tuned for part 3!! Click HERE to view!