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drgnsfly · 2 days ago

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✶ UNTIL SUNRISE

summary: you and charles broke up a year ago ─ it was messy, brutal, but not unexpected. what was unexpected, though, was to see each other at a monaco party thrown by your socialite friend. between champagne, stolen stares and bittersweet regrets, things left unsaid come back to haunt the both of you.

f1 masterlist | part two: until sunset

pairing: charles leclercﾉex!f!reader

wc: 7k

cw: angst, bittersweet, smut (oral f!receiving, p in v, unprotected - mdni!), second chance, exes to lovers, reader is BITTER, accurate french, ocs for plot purpose, english is not my first language

a/n: the weeknd the party & the afterparty on repeat, while there is smut it's entirely skippable! if you just want to read the clean vers beginning and end will be marked by bolded words :) i'll still ask minors not to interact

DRENCHED IN SUNSET, Monaco glistened under waves of gold and orange, highlighting the marble of its buildings and the shine of the coast. The streets bustled with laughter dangerously mixed with the motor of fast cars and the crash of the waves. The air smelled like salt, and the tall buildings of the city centers looked like lazy Saturday afternoons spent losing yourself in the neverending streets. Monaco was a country of fast heartbeats and taken chances, and for a time now long past, it felt like home.

It didn’t anymore. As you stepped out of the car, you couldn’t feel more like a stranger.

You thanked the driver with a small smile and a generous tip before he turned around and drove away. The marble structure in front of you shone as the last ray of the sun caressed it ─ it was the stuff of wonder: tall windows and ancient Italian architecture. Your friend, Bridget, always knew how to go all out, but this time she had every right. It was her engagement party after all. You felt ridiculously small as the butlers opened the massive doors when you entered. Monaco and you had been estranged for more than a year now, you should be used to the feeling, but the bitter taste of heartache and tears was stuck in your throat like glue as you made your way up the stairs to the reception.

Enough of that, you thought, you came to celebrate your friend and her fiancé. You came to have fun, not to dwell on the past. You clutched your purse, plastered on a bright smile, and blended in the crowd.

Bridget didn’t make the guest list with a nimble hand, that was for sure. The room was swarming with people, all dressed to the nines, some you did and didn’t recognize. You fit in amazingly well, your dress sweeping the floor and the warm air hitting your bare back, a delicate necklace dropping between your shoulder blades. Soft jazz echoed against the walls, and conversations and champagne flowed as you took laps around the room searching for Bridget.

You knew she found you first when her hands wrapped around your waist in a bear hug. “You came!” She yelled in your ear.

A surprised screech escaped you while your friend twirled around you in ecstasy, all in silky white and tanned skin. Guests turned around, laughing at her antics, while the first real smile out of your evening broke your stunned expression. “What made you think I wouldn’t?”

“I don’t know!” Bridget stood in front of you, holding you by the forearms as if she were afraid you’d run away. “You just─ We haven’t talked a lot the past year, and you moved out. I thought that maybe you didn’t want to come back here.”

Your chest tightened a little at her self-consciousness. Leaving was necessary, and you had found a semblance of peace by doing so, but you might have neglected a few connections in the meantime. Bridget included. “I know I haven’t been as present as I should have been, but there was no way I would have missed your engagement party,” you reassured her. “It’s just that with everything that happened, I needed some time to think. But I’m here now! We can celebrate properly. Where’s Jaime?” Her fiancé, soon-to-be husband.

The glimmer of happiness your consolation brought to Bridget’s eyes vanished as soon as you mentioned the events that caused your sudden disappearance. It had that effect on people. Nobody had expected it, except maybe you and the other party involved. “About that… the whole thing… there’s something I need to tell you about tonight, Y/N…”

“There you are, Bree! Look who I found trying to sneak his way to the piano.” You and Bridget turned at the sound of Jaime’s voice ─ and the second he came into view, the blood in your veins turned icy.

Because behind him was the reason you moved out of Monaco. Dressed in a sharp black suit with the trademark red tie around the collar of his shirt, his hair an artful mess of brown, the green eyes that promised you so much widening in recognition.

Charles Leclerc, your ex-boyfriend─ no, scratch that, the ex-love of your life, stood before you, champagne in hand, and you were mentally back in the threshold of his apartment a year ago, where your life fell apart in the slamming of a door.

You didn’t miss the way his knuckles tightened around the glass, nor how his pace faltered behind Jaime when he set his eyes upon you. The overwhelming distance between the two of you, whether physical or emotional, still stabbed you in the stomach.

You shouldn't have been surprised he was invited. He was one of Jaime's closest friends, they had known each other for years. There was a small part of you who knew but didn't want to face the possibility of Charles being here. Now, it was way more than a possibility.

The four of you went quiet. Bridget bit her lip, Jaime awkwardly stepped from one foot to the other, aware of what he’s caused, Charles’ eyes were stuck on you, almost transfixed. The air in the room became scarce, almost impossible for you to grasp fully: your world was limited to Charles. Apparently, a year was not near enough to swallow down the hurt and the gaping hole he left in you.

You couldn’t let the silence go on longer or you’d drown. Almost as a reflex, a fabricated smile made its way to your face and the split second of hurt across your face disappeared. “Doesn't surprise me at all!” You glanced at Charles, and the fake sympathy in your voice seemed to startle him out of his trance. “Well, don't let me keep you longer, Bridget. You have guests to attend to. Jaime, it was really nice to see you again. Now if you'll excuse me.”

You didn't stick around for any reactions. The bar at the other end of the room was practically screaming your name and if you were to survive tonight, you needed something stronger than champagne. Fighting to get out of the suffocating sphere around Charles, you almost dropped your whole weight on the red-cushioned stool, startling the bartender. “Can I have an Espresso Martini? Don't go easy on the vodka. Please.”

You barely had time to sip the sugary drink when the cocktail got in your hand before a dark, warm amber perfume you knew all too well grazed your nose and swallowed you whole, heart with it. Shutting your eyelids tight, you took a deep breath.

“I didn't expect to see you here,” Charles said.

He put his back against the bar, sipping from his champagne flute and carefully avoiding the distrusting glance you threw his way as if he wasn’t the one striking up a conversation with you. You couldn’t help the venom in your voice when you answered. “Well, Monaco’s not that big.” You wished it was. It would have been less painful to come back, to feel him so close to you ,and to still react to it.

That made him look your way, at least. Charles almost looked pained but quickly regained his usual composure. You graced him with a half smile, trying to sweeten your words. “And I wouldn’t miss Bridget’s engagement party.”

He chuckled at that, swirling the bubbly liquid in his glass. “We did play a big role in that happening, it would’ve been a shame.”

Yes, you did. After you and Charles got together, it was only a matter of time before both of your friend groups merged ─ friendships were extremely important to the both of you, and there was no way it was going to work if you didn’t get to know them at some point. During a dinner Charles organized for your birthday, you both noticed how Charles’ friend Jaime was making eyes at your friend Bridget, and how Bridget seemed to laugh a little too loud when he was around. Next thing you knew, you two were playing Cupid between muted giggles and stolen kisses. Not even a year later they were engaged.

And you and Charles weren’t anything anymore. The memory erased the sweetness of the sugar in your cocktail and left you with a bitter aftertaste. You didn’t want to remember anymore. It hurt too much.

“Yeah, well, looks like they’re doing much better on their own.”

You threw your head back and downed the end of your drink. If Charles wanted to answer anything, he swallowed it back, preferring to watch you with the same calculation he used on the track. For the second time in your life, you felt like a statistic in his life. The double dose of vodka you ordered was starting to wreak havoc on your empty stomach, and acidic words flew out before you could stop them. “So, still driving like you have something to prove?”

A flash of hurt distorted his delicate traits, but he didn’t miss a beat. “Still running away from your problems?”

Silence stretched between the two of you, letting the words marinate in the air. Music and chatter were getting louder but the only thing you could hear was the sharp sting of his words. You signaled the bartender for another drink ─ bad idea, but again, everything you were doing right now didn’t exactly fit in the good decision category. “That’s rich,” you laughed humorlessly, “coming from the guy who spent months pretending I didn’t exist.”

He exhaled sharply. “Don’t act like you were the only one hurting.”

“Oh, I’m sorry─ did I ruin your life by walking away? Because I remember doing it and you just─” you gestured vaguely, “letting me.”

“And what, you expected me to beg?”

Your fresh drink barely even grazed your lips before you slammed it down on the bar. The room was suddenly too loud, too crowded, too suffocating. “No, Charles, I expected you to care.” You despised how your voice broke at the end of your sentence.

That lands. His facade crumbled ever-so-slightly, enough for you to see the vulnerability you became all too familiar with. The regrets rippling in your stomach did not correlate with the words you spew out. Charles took a step closer, and suddenly his expensive cologne and something so distinctively him overwhelm you. “You think I didn’t?” Barely contained frustration curled around every syllable, his voice an octave lower. “You think it didn’t kill me to watch you go?”

“If it really killed you, you would’ve stopped me.”

His gaze dulled, and the fingers around his glass twitched. “And if you really wanted to stay, you wouldn’t have left.”

The words settled between the two of you like a live wire, buzzing and electrifying. Charles’ eyes scrutinized yours, and as he put his empty flute of champagne on the counter, you couldn’t stand how your pulse stuttered when his fingers grazed yours. The same hand flexed by his side.

Whatever anger you felt when you started spewing venom at him slowly died down, replaced by something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Acerbic regrets, maybe, mixed with the wet outrage of misplaced resentment. Your limits were drawn at the emptiness of your stomach, the hum of the vodka in your veins, and the hollow of Charles' pupils when he looked at you.

You no longer knew what it meant, and you weren’t sure you could handle the uncertainty.

“We shouldn’t be doing this at Bridget’s party,” you murmured. “She deserves to have a good night. Jaime too.”

“You’re right.” He looked at the ground, and you swore his eyes were shining. “Is there even a right time to do this?”

“There’s none for us. Not anymore, at least. You missed your opportunity a year ago.”

You slowly slid a bill toward the waiter, took your cocktail, and carefully avoided looking at Charles as you walked away. You’d have to shorten your time at this party if you wanted to survive it. Bridget would understand ─ she always did. Something cruel in the back of your mind wondered if Charles would do too.

Most of your time was spent mingling with old friends and acquaintances. You answered the same questions with the same smile and tone for each of them: Yes, you needed a fresh start, that’s why you left. No, you were at peace with your current situation, it was a clean slate. Maybe you’d want to join them for dinner, one day. No, you didn’t care Charles was there tonight, not at all.

Yet, you were painfully aware of the Monegasque’s presence. It was a magnetic pull, in the way you wanted to avoid him like the plague but neither of you could stray too far away: you were both orbiting around each other, far enough for your heart to settle but too close for comfort. It wasn’t enough ─ you didn’t know which one you were talking about.

You found Bridget after another good hour of waltzing around the room, and she dropped on you with a flurry of apologies about not telling you sooner, that she learned last minute Charles was coming. You laughed it off to reassure her, but the truth was that you were already ready to leave. A minute spent there was one more minute dipping your toes in a dangerous type of nostalgia. You didn’t feel capable of handling it any longer.

But you did promise Bridget to stay until the slow dance.

It was fairytale-like, how the jazz music and the incessant rumbling of conversation turned into soft piano and hushed whispers as Jaime and she stepped onto the dance floor. The color coordination of their clothes, their smiles as they basked into each other’s presence, happy, their graceful yet discreet movements to the music ─ they would have a beautiful wedding, and Bridget would make the most beautiful bride. A single teardrop slipped past your lashes.

You were in the first rank of the circle that formed around them. People were elbowing others to share your spot, so it wasn’t much of a shock when Charles ended up next to you. You still had to repress back a sharp gasp at his sudden proximity. “They look perfect,” he whispered, barely audible.

You didn’t know if he spoke to himself or if he noticed you next to him. You answered nonetheless. “They really do.” Charles didn’t look surprised by your interjection, which made you understand the comment was indeed directed at you.

“Do you…” He hesitated, sneaking a glance that you met by accident. “Do you think we looked like that, at some point?”

Music filled the air between you. “Yes. We did.”

A half-smile stretched your lips, though without any substance to it. Slowly, people and couples all around you joined Bridget and Jaime on the dance floor. Their partners took hold of their waist, intertwined hands, and slowly glided around the marble floor. It was hypnotizing.

Charles’ fingers twitched in the dim light of the room, brushing yours oh so innocently. Shivers ran down your spine at the soft contact. It was only a matter of seconds before you subconsciously sought his touch once more, out of habit or homesickness, you didn’t know. Casually, as if it was the most ordinary thing in the world, your hands intertwined. It was hesitant, and you just kept staring at the slow dance in front of you, but the feeling of his knuckles grazing yours, the back of his hand you’d trace the veins of during long nights…

The weight of memories made you nauseous.

You needed to get out. Now. You barely even muttered an excuse before snapping your hand back and rushing outside.

The night was sharp against your overheated skin, but the three cocktails you inhaled were enough to keep you warm. Breathe in through the nose, out by the mouth ─ again and again, until the palpitations against your ribcage finally ceased. What the hell was that?

Your fingers still tingled from where Charles had touched them ─ so innocent, so casual, like he hadn’t once held your entire world in his hand and let it slip away. You squeezed your eyes shut: you couldn’t handle this party any longer. You stuck until the slow dance, you fulfilled your promise. Except you were supposed to sleep at Bridget’s tonight, sparing you the added expense of a hotel in Monaco, and she wasn’t leaving her own engagement party anytime soon, even for you. You could hitchhike or call an Uber if you knew where her house was.

No hotel booked. No backup plan. No escape.

A familiar voice broke your thoughts. “Running again?”

You turned abruptly to see Charles at the grand entrance of the building. He stood there, hands buried in his pockets, the soft light of the entry hall graciously dancing on his features. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes─ God, his eyes. They held something between concern and something else, something unreachable and unspoken. You swallowed with difficulty.

“Not everything is about you, Charles.”

He hummed. “Didn’t say it was.”

Silence. He took a few steps closer, and the thick fog of the situation tightened around you ─ the past, the present, the fact you had nowhere to go. Charles titled his head, studying you. “You don’t have a place to stay, do you?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, hating how easily he could still see right through you after everything. “I’m sleeping over at Bridget’s.”

“But you don’t want to stay until the party’s over.”

You prayed somebody would make him shut up as you answered through gritted teeth. “I’ll figure something out.”

At this point, the Monegasque was close enough that you could see the muscle ticking in his jaw, like the idea of you wandering through the city alone at this hour physically pained him. A few seconds passed before a sigh escaped him and he spoke up again.

“Come to mine.”

You blinked. “What?”

Charles' gaze softened, almost making your knees buckle under the heaviness of it, but his tone remained steady, if somewhat quieter when he confessed, “I still have some of your things. It makes sense. I know you’re not capable of waiting until the end of the party.”

It makes sense. Like it was logical, like it wasn’t dangerous for your heart to step back into the house that held so many feelings and memories. Your lips parted, forming a protest, but Charles beat you to it. “I’ll sleep on the couch if that’s what you want.” His voice dipped, now lower with insistence and blatant worry. “But don’t be stubborn. Just let me take you home.”

Home.

You exhaled shakily. The word was enough to make you shudder, or maybe it was the hopeful way Charles’ tone curled around it.

Any person in their right mind would have said no. You should say no. You should call a cab to a random hotel and make do like you always did. But your body betrayed you: you nodded, slowly, before your mind could catch up with your actions.

Charles didn’t gloat or smile. Instead, a visible tension seemed to leave his shoulders and he stepped aside as if waiting for you to move first to his car, you could see the familiar shape of it in the distance. He was giving you the opportunity to leave, the one he never gave you back then.

You still sat in the passenger seat.

The city lights blurred past during the short ride. It was quiet, not awkward ─ just heavy. You couldn’t forget the way to his house, your house, even if you tried to. It was a tear in your soul, a reminder. Every streetlight brushed against his features in flickers. You tried your best not to stare, but his sharp jaw, the way his hands gripped the steering wheel a little too tight… Neither of you spoke. Maybe that was safer.

When he pulled into the garage and killed the engine, you finally exhaled.

“Come on,” Charles said softly, as if he was afraid too much noise would break whatever fragile thread held you together.

Walking into his house was like stepping into the remnants of a dream when the morning came.

It smelled the same ─ clean, and the faint trace of his amber cologne clung to the air and your skin like melted plastic. “I’ll get you something to sleep in,” Charles said, disappearing into his bedroom. Once, it was yours.

A few things had changed, you’re pretty sure the lamp in the corner of the living room wasn't there before and he changed the rug ─ you always hated it anyway. But some hadn’t. A red sweater you used to steal regularly hung over the couch. You ran your fingers along the kitchen counter, a ghost tracing the memories of a past life. How many times had you leaned against this exact spot, laughing at some dumb joke he made while he cooked?

When Charles returned, he was changed into a simple white tee shirt and gray sweatpants. He held out something all too familiar ─ white shorts and a tee-shirt of his, brown, soft, and worn. After a while sleeping at his, it became more yours than it was his and he ended up giving it to you. It was your favorite.

You hesitated. “You kept it?”

“I kept most of it.” He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck.

Your fingers brushed his as you took it and for a second, neither of you moved. “Thank you,” you whispered. Charles just nodded and you made your way to the bathroom.

You changed, hands trembling as you slipped the shirt on. It smelled like fresh laundry and something so undeniably him. You hated how much comfort it brought you. How good it felt on your skin. You looked around the bathroom, noticing some of your leftover skincare products aligned next to the mirror of what used to be your side, and you swallowed with difficulty. He kept most of it. Your heart threatened to give out right here and there. When you walked out, Charles was sitting on the couch, staring into the emptiness.

You should go to sleep. You should pretend this is normal and turn away. But there are a lot of things you should have done tonight and didn’t do, so what was one more?

Instead, you walked over and hesitantly settled beside him, a little bit closer than you should be, the pounding in your chest so loud you were afraid he could hear it. The city lights poured through the windows, drenching his face in long shadows and nostalgia. Neither of you said anything for a while, basking in the stillness of what was.

Then, so quietly you barely caught it─ “I missed you.”

The corners of your eyes started burning the second the words left his lips. His head sharply turned toward you, eyes searching for something in your face. “I know… I know I don’t get to say that, but it’s the truth.”

Your breath hitched. If you were a better person, you would have let it go. Let it sit in the air, fade away like all the things he should have said but never did. But the weight of them, the sheer audacity they let transpire after everything ─ it would kill you to just let it be. Your fingers curled against your knees as you forced out a wet, bitter laugh that didn’t even sound like yours.

“That’s your problem, Charles. You always tell the truth when it’s too fucking late.”

His jaw visibly tensed. “That’s not fair. You’re not innocent either.”

“Isn’t it?” This time, you fully turned to face him. You were angry, but underneath all that rage was something fragile hiding in the depths of your facade, something so desperately broken, begging to be fixed. Your voice wavered as you continued. “You missed me? Where was this when I was actually there? When I was waiting for you to show up, to choose me over everything else for once?”

“You think I didn’t want to?”

You scoffed. “I think you didn’t.”

The silence was deafening. Charles leaned back against the couch, and he exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “You don’t understand.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and the feelings you spent a year trying to bury under the pretense of peace rushed to the surface, drowning you with it. “Then help me,” your voice broke, “make me understand, Charles, because all I can remember is feeling like I was never good enough.”

His head snapped toward you. His expression─ Raw. Devastated. Emotions painfully obvious in every trait. “You were enough. More than enough, you were everything. And I─ I just didn’t know how to keep you.” His voice was just as teary as yours, if a little stronger, as if he was mad at himself. Your heart twisted violently in your chest.

“Then why did you let me go?”

Charles ran a hand down his face, looking up at the ceiling like the answer was hidden in the dark lights. His next sentence came out in something next to a whisper. “Because I thought it’d be better for you.”

“You don’t get to decide that.” You let out a wobbly breath.

His lips parted slightly, like he wanted to argue, like he wanted to take back the words and shove them back in his mouth in shame ─ but he didn’t. He let them simmer between you two, like so many other things.

You had spent so long thinking that Charles didn’t love you enough to fight for you. But now, here in the dim glow of his house, the faint sounds of cars and laughter coming from the streets echoing against the walls, you realized the truth was even crueler. He loved you enough to let you go. It didn’t make it hurt any less ─ for all you knew, it wrecked you even more.

Everything was so fragile. The tension between you, the past, the feeble source of city lights shining on you both. And then─ his fingers twitched. Just slightly, resting on the couch beside you, brushing against yours, remnants of what happened in the party hall. It was small, hesitant. A question.

You knew where this would lead. You knew that nothing had changed, that the past still sat uncomfortably between you like an open wound. But, God help you, you turned your hand over almost immediately, allowing your fingers to thread through his. A shaky breath left his lips. Relief, surrender, and his thumb traced soft circles against your skin, old habits reignited like they never left.

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” Charles murmured.

“Then what do you want?”

He swallowed, his grip on your hand tightening as if he was afraid you’d disappear.

“You. Just you.”

Your heart rate picked up, your resolve crumbling like sand through an hourglass. Because you wanted him too. Maybe you always would.

And so, Charles leaned in, imperceptibly, hesitant and almost afraid in his gesture. His eyes darted from your eyes to your lips to your eyes again, and there was no coming back from that. Your lips crashed onto his.

It was different, distinguished from all the other ones you shared before. It wasn’t fueled by anger, desperation, or habit. The way his lips moved against yours in perfect synchronization, the ghost-like touch of his fingers running up your arms, his shaky breath against your skin when you parted for a split second too long. It was soft, lingering. The kind of kiss that felt like home.

And maybe, just for tonight, you’d let yourself believe that was enough.

You threw your arms around his neck, and melted against him when his rough palms found the dip of your waist. It was a rhythm you didn’t forget, no matter how many months passed. Charles lifted you up easily, as if you were nothing, settling you in his lap and his lips never once leaving yours. The kiss, so delicate and gentle, grew more and more erratic and his hands started roaming your sides, lower, right above the curve of your ass.

A quiet sigh escaped you when his head buried in your neck, nibbling against your supple skin, breathing you in like a drug. Your hands tangled in his hair. Charles’ grip on your hips got tighter, pressing you against him. He hissed, and you could feel every centimeter of him through his sweatpants touching your throbbing core. The effect you still had on him would have made you smile if your senses weren’t completely captured by the feeling of his mouth on your body, the delightful friction sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins.

“Please, Y/N,” he pleaded, high-pitched and desperate into your neck. He pushed himself up against your shorts, and a moan drew out of you, louder than any of your silent sighs. “Bordel, please, let me…”

There was no hesitation in your voice when you answered. “Yes.”

Charles wasted no time. His hands grabbed your thighs hard enough to leave marks and lifted you up, lips still on yours. You locked your legs around his waist and, carefully, he walked you to the bedroom.

He set you down on the silky sheets as if you were made of porcelain, yet the way he kissed you was anything but gentle. His tongue slipped past your lips, demanding access you offered without a second thought. You could finally taste your shared breath, remnants of champagne, espresso, and tears lingering in the way he angled his mouth. He bruised you with his kiss. How you missed it. Him. The both of you.

Charles’ hands traveled further up, slowly dipping underneath your shirt. It didn’t take long for it to end up on the floor. He leaned back, staring at your body, leaving you panting from the sudden lack of contact. He took you in like a priceless painting, breathless himself like you hung the stars in the sky for him.

“You’re so beautiful,” Charles whispered, and the ache between your legs only intensified. One hand came to knead your naked breast, fingers ghosting over your erect nipple. You whimpered at the sudden contact. “Fuck, I missed seeing you like this. Hearing you. You can’t imagine how many nights I spent thinking about what I’d do to you if you were mine again. Just once.” He pinched your sensitive bud, and this time, his name slipped past your lips.

“Charles…” You gasped, gazing up at him through half-lidded eyes. His gaze darkened at the sound of his name, and you saw how cock twitch through the thin fabric of his pants.

Your hands reached to untie the knot tying his sweatpants. His hands simply grazing you weren’t enough. He wasn’t the only one who spent nights reminiscing and gasping alone at night in an empty room ─ you needed him close. In every way. You needed it to be real.

Gently, he pushed your hand away and you couldn’t stop the whine that came out of your mouth. “Doucement,” Charles whispered.

He leaned down and dragged his lips on the curve of your neck, tasting your skin. He planted a kiss in the middle of your chest, took a nipple in his mouth he swirled around on his tongue and let out with an erotic pop, followed the line of your stomach until he reached the dangerously low hem of your shorts. He would look patient if the iron grip he had on your hips wasn’t betraying him.

Your breathing was uneven, and anticipation stained your underwear and shorts with a wet patch you would be ashamed of if you weren’t so desperate for touch. Charles untied and slipped off your shorts with a timed precision, and when his fingers started playing with the border of your panties, you couldn’t take it anymore. “Please…”

Charles dropped a kiss on your clothed cunt, and you squirmed beneath him. “Tell me you want me.”

His words didn’t register in the fog of want clouding your mind. He repeated, this time with a little more force. “Tell me you want me, Y/N. Please.”

Your chest tightened at the pathetic need in his voice. “I want you. I want you so bad, Char─”

You didn’t notice him push your panties aside. All you knew was the feeling of his tongue, a slow lap along your folds, and any words you wanted to say died on your tongue with a silent cry.

It wasn’t soft or relaxed. Charles ate you out like a starved man as if the air he needed to live was between your legs. It was messy, a newfound fervor found as he circled your clit with his tongue, sucking on it, torturing it. You bucked under his mouth, pushing your hips against him, always craving more, more, more. More of the tightness in your lower stomach, more of him. When he lowered himself further and started exploring your warmth, you could barely breathe through the gasps and whines spilling from your lips.

Charles watched you eagerly from his point of view, hooded eyes glazed over by pure lust and need. His arms were hooked beneath your thighs, smothering himself in your cunt, and with his tongue pushing deeper inside you, the pad of his fingers came pressing down on your clit, making rapid and hard circles. The pace, fast and needy, his drunken look, the familiarity of it all… it was all too overwhelming. You were a writhing mess underneath this man.

After a year, he still knew your body by heart.

Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him as close as you could, eliciting a groan out of him that reverberated straight into your core. The knot in your stomach grew tighter and tighter, your breathing erratic. “Charles, I’m gonna─ Fuck! I’m close, please, I’m─”

And right as you were about to let yourself go, he stopped.

The high slipping through your finger was enough to throw you in deep confusion as you glanced down at him, your hands falling from his hair to the side of his face. Charles’ lips were glistening with your arousal, his gaze dark and hair messy, heaving. He looked downright pornographic.

He spoke up before you could word your protest. “Need to be inside of you, mon amour. Need to feel you coming around me.” His voice was hoarse and possessive, leaving no room for argument. The familiar pet name sent shivers down your entire body and you couldn’t find it in you to oppose him, not when you craved the same.

Charles was a man possessed, fumbling with the waistband of his sweats as you hurriedly helped him out of his shirt. His lean muscles on display, you traced them with your palm, feeling every scattered breath and the hitches of it when your nails grazed his skin. You stopped at the waistband of his boxers. You wished you weren’t as impatient, otherwise you would have savored the begging scrunch of his eyebrows, or the quiet whimpers escaping him. Instead, you released him from torture and helped him take it off.

His cock sprung out and tapped his stomach. At some point in your life, you got used to the size of it ─ now, you weren’t sure if your body knew how to take its length anymore. Slowly, Charles' hands gripped your hips to slide you closer to him, grinding his engorged member against your entrance. The sensation, so little and so much at the same time, had you release a strangled cry.

Charles leaned in closer, upper body above you, palms pressed next to each side of your head. “D’you want it? This? Me?” His tip nudged your hole a little harder, and the small shock had you seeing stars. “Us?”

The question was charged with emotions and tears pricked your eyes. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him as close as you could. “Yes. More than anything.”

Those were all the words he needed. In a slow, agonizing push, he slid inside of you.

Nothing in the world could ever matter after that. It was dizzying, you could get drunk on the feeling: Charles filled you up so completely, reaching every sweet spot inside of you without even trying, and your back arched as if answering to his command. He took the opportunity to capture your back with one arm, bodies flushing against the other. You couldn’t remember the last time something had felt this right.

“Fuck… you feel so good, so tight,” he moaned in your ear. “Made for me. You were made for me.”

You answered between sharp intakes of air. “Yours, Charles.”

You felt his cock twitch inside of you at your words. He bottomed out, sucking in the thin skin of your collarbone. You croaked as he asked, “Mine?”

“All yours. Always have.”

All you could remember from here was the tangled mess of limbs you both became. His thrusts were erratic, slamming his hips upon yours like he was trying to mold your body to fit his. Your nails dug into his back ─ you dragged them down, finding no other outlet for the ache within you. Twisting, biting, moaning and kissing, lips and tongues at war to see who will leave the biggest imprint. Charles’ iron-clad hold on you only intensified the feverish state of the two of you, your skin glistening, panting. You couldn’t think straight anymore. All of you was his and all of his was yours.

“Shit, ‘M getting close,” Charles managed to articulate. “Need you to finish first. Fuck, need you to fall apart so I can see.”

You could only cry out his name in response, an unanswered prayer spilling from your lips. “I’m right there,” his pace picked up, his thrusts uneven between the plush of your thighs. “C’mon, I know you can do it. Let go for me, mon ange.”

The pad of his fingers drew slow circles on your clit, his rhythm relentless. It did it for you: in a flash of white, the knot in your lower stomach snapped. Everything narrowed down to the stuttering of Charles’ hips, spilling soon after you. He coated your insides with his warmth and broken pleas escaped you as he fucked your high and his with languid movements, gradually slowing down, bringing you down in the softest way possible.

The sheets were tangled, the air of the bedroom thick with heat, but neither of you spoke as Charles collapsed next to you. It was the type of silence that only came before something inevitable.

Your chest was still rising and falling unevenly, skin warm, raw from the way you had just taken each other apart. Charles laid on his back, one arm draped over his forehead, taking steady and measured breaths─ like he was trying to regulate something deeper than exhaustion. In the dim glow of his bedroom, reality finally settled in.

What you just did, with the guilt, heartbreak, and relief coming with it.

You sat up until you reached the edge of the bed, gazing emptily in front of you, wrapped in the sheets that smelled like you and him, your fingers playing with the hem of the fabric as you tried to remember how to breathe. You didn’t know what you should do from here and desperately dug in the depths of your mind to find an answer.

Behind you, Charles shifted. The mattress dipped under his weight, and before you could register his sudden closeness, you felt the warmth of his palm grazing up and down your spine, featherlight.

“You’re thinking too much,” he murmured, voice hoarse.

You swallowed hard, staring at the Monaco lights outside his window. “I don’t know how not to.”

Silence. Then, a whisper- “Come back to bed.”

You closed your eyes. The words shouldn’t have made you feel anything. They should have been meaningless, casual, something you could ignore ─ this whole ordeal should have been a one-time thing you could have forgotten when the morning came. But they weren’t.

Because you remembered this.

The way he used to whisper it on nights where you’d get up at ungodly hours, restless. The way he always reached for you, even in sleep. You turned slightly, catching sight of him in the semi-darkness of the room: messy hair, kiss-bruised lips, green eyes heavy with a feeling you knew too well but were too scared to name.

“Charles…”

“I know,” he said, almost frustrated. “I know we─” He cut himself off, dragging a hand through his hair. Softer─ “I know it doesn’t fix anything. I know we’ll wake up tomorrow and we’ll still be…”

Exes. Strangers.

People who still fit together in every way that mattered, except the ones that actually kept them from breaking.

“But… just for tonight, can you stay? With me? We can talk about it tomorrow. Just… stay.”

You hesitated.

Then, gently, you let the sheets slip from your naked shoulders as you turned fully, shifting back onto the mattress beside him. For a second, neither of you moved or even dared to breathe, too afraid to ruin it. Hesitantly, carefully, Charles reached for you. It wasn’t demanding, nor possessive like he was when you were busy unraveling each other ─ it was in the heat of the moment. This was raw, emotional, uncertain. Like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to.

You made the choice for him. Moving closer, you tucked yourself against his side, tangling your legs with his and resting your hands on his chest in an all too familiar fashion, the heat of skin warming you up.

Charles melted and released a slow, shaky exhale as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer. His fingers retraced the same patterns he did earlier along your back. The contact made your chest twist.

You chose to ignore it. You chose to ignore it all ─ tonight, this will be enough. You, him, and the unsaid. Everything else could wait until sunrise.

©DRGNSFLY 2k25 ─ do not copy, steal, post somewhere else or translate my work without my permission.

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towasdandelion · 3 days ago

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Hello! One idea for the little text stories might be to send a "I miss you" text in the middle of the night. It would be fun to see the ghouls' reaction.

Hello hello! This was definitely on my to-do list hehe. The only problem I had was I just wasn't sure how to approach it.. In the end I decided to go with a bit more serious tone and not doing it as a prank thing, I hope that's okay!

Also I think this time you and the ghouls just started dating! You've been close for a long time and now that you're a couple... Sending a text like this feels more natural to you. Let's start with Hotarubi and Frostheim ghouls!

Texting Hotarubi and Frostheim ghouls "I miss you" in the middle of the night

Haku would usually tease the hell out of you. Usually. But realizing how late it is, he gets worried. He will be getting dressed the moment he sees your first message. Any of your protests are useless. He will come over to take you out for a nightly relaxing stroll. He won't leave your side until he sees you start to yawn.

Subaru will tread very carefully. He's not feeling very confident in the relationship yet. That's why he's very scared of upsetting you in any way. Deep down he is very happy you decided to text him though. He really likes feeling needed. Definitely will offer his company, if that's what you need.

Zenji will be very gentle with you. He knows everyone has moments of sadness. And he will do his best to reassure and comfort you. He can't help but to smile fondly though. The thought of you seeking his presence warms his heart. He feels like it's his duty to make you smile every chance he gets.

He will question you first. Why aren't you sleeping? But then Jin recognizes the tone. Something is amiss. He softens considerably, even if it's not easy to see at first glance. He has to make sure you're okay no matter what. And what's a better way than coming over and wrapping his arms around you?

Tohma will try to tease you a little bit. That's just his way of subtly investigating he matter. When he sees it's not having the usual effect, he will change his approach. He wishes you were a bit more open about your wishes sometimes. But since he's very good at reading between the lines, he won't deny you what you want. He will be there for you when you need him.

He's very sweet to you, always been. Luca will be by your side in a heartbeat. You only need to say a word. He will bring you some of your favorite snacks too, knowing they usually help with improving your mood. If you don't really want to talk, that's fine. He will just quietly hold you in his arms until you're feeling better.

Kaito enters his panic mode as usual. All sorts of thoughts cross his mind. Maybe he didn't spend enough time with you lately? Maybe there's something wrong between you two? You'll have to step up and calm him down at first, I'm afraid. Once he's finally aware you just wish to see him, he will be at your door in seconds. Literally.

#tokyo debunker #haku kusanagi #subaru kagami #zenji kotodama #jin kamurai #tohma ishibashi #lucas errant #kaito fuji #tokyo debunder fics

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shadowsviper · 2 days ago

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Thanos and Nam-Gyu as Cats Part 4

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Sorry this took so long! It's finals week for me so I've been focusing on school.

This may or may not be the last part of this series. Thanos and Nam-gyu taking care of cat reader and Gyeong-su fic are currently in the works! Sorry for making you guys wait but it's coming!

I got one of the ideas from someone who commented on one of the parts, lol I thought it would be fun

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Zoomies were chaotic, I mean they always are but when it comes to Thanos, it's cranked up to 1000%

He's running all over the apartment, and he will make a mess everywhere

He climbs the walls

He gets zoomies mostly at night when you're asleep, and it'll probably wake you up

7/10 times he knocks something over

8/10 times he runs over the other cats

10/10 times he runs over you

Once he's done, he'll snuggle up to you in bed acting as if nothing happened

Thankfully, all the other cats aren't as bad

Nam-gyu will run around, sometimes Thanos' zoomies triggers his so they're both running around in the middle of the night

If they're both doing it, lock them out of the bedroom. Otherwise, you'll never sleep

Usually gets them early in the morning, around the time you wake up. He does that thing where he'll stare at you and then run off, run back, stare, and run off again

He's usually preoccupied with his box so he won't really make a mess unless it's with Thanos

He has chased Se-mi around before

Gyeong-su and Se-mi are at the same level. They aren't as chaotic and messy as Thanos and Nam-gyu, but they definitely make a lot of noise running around

Gyeong-su chooses to run under things like tables, chairs, the couch, whatever he can fit under, occasionally knocks things over because he moved the table while scurrying under it

He will attack your feet

Se-mi prefers the counters. She'll hop from one place to the next, occasionally knocking something over

If she gets spooked, she's knocking everything over trying to get away (Nam-gyu most likely scared her on purpose)

Min-su is probably the chillest out of all of them. Due to him being a munchkin cat, he's small and short. He doesn't do a lot of damage to the apartment

However, you do have to watch out for him. He's small and he moves fast and will run across your path out of nowhere

Look where you're going so you don't step on him

If all of them get zoomies at the same time?

Yeah no, that's their apartment now. You're never getting it back, it's going to be destroyed

When it comes to affection, this is the list: Thanos, Min-su, Se-mi, Gyeong-su, and Nam-gyu

Thanos is definitely the most affectionate cat that's ever existed. Your space is his space. It's pretty rare to find him alone. If he's not with you, he's probably with Nam-gyu

He purrs very loud

If you give him any type of attention he'll start purring. He'll also squeeze in wherever you are for cuddles

Sometimes it does get a bit too much and you have to tell him to stop, but that never works

Min-su likes attention, but if you give him too much, he gets overwhelmed and will leave

He likes to sit by you whenever you're doing something to keep you company. He understands personal space unlike Thanos

It depends on Se-mi's mood if she's going to like the attention. A lot of times she's fine with pets, but not so much with cuddles. She'll allow it for a bit but will eventually squeeze out and go somewhere else

Like Min-su, she'll keep you company from a small distance

Gyeong-su isn't that affectionate. He'll ask for pets here and there, but isn't crazy about it, but he also doesn't hate it

He usually finds joy in following Thanos around anyway

Nam-gyu doesn’t like being touched. He tolerates it from you and Thanos but anyone else he’s hissing and swatting at them

If he feels like it, he’ll come to you for pets and cuddles. If he doesn’t find you himself, he just wants to be alone

Sometimes his affection is just headbutting your leg and walking away

Now, if you were to bring home a partner, whether it’s a long term relationship, or situationship, one night stand, whatever, all the cats will have a reaction to it

Thanos and Nam-gyu are the worst when it comes to this because how dare you give someone else so much affection

You know that side eye Nam-gyu does in the show? Yeah he’s doing that in cat form

They both refused to be pet by the person. They don’t care what they are to you, they will bite them

It’s actually concerning to see Thanos like that since he usually loves the attention

They will try to break up any type of interaction. Holding hands? Sorry, you have to pet Thanos right now

Hugging? Oh, that’s crazy, suddenly they want cuddles and will squeeze in between you two

Sex? Yeah forget it, they’re screaming and scratching at the door

The second your partner leaves, they’re back to normal. They’ll act like nothing happened and they didn’t try to drive the person away

The others are more chill about it

Gyeong-su doesn’t really care. He’s just following Thanos and does whatever he does. You technically have three cats fighting for you

Se-mi also doesn’t care. She will watch from a distance and if they seem like a good person, she’ll like them

However, if she thinks they’re not good for you, she’ll also try to drive them away

Thankfully, she doesn’t drive everyone away, she actually takes the time to get to know them a bit before deciding

Min-su is already timid. Adding a new person to the place kind of scares him. He’s like Se-mi where he wants the best person for you but if he thinks they’re not good, he won’t do anything, he leaves that up to Se-mi

Overall, they don't mean any harm. They just really like and appreciate you

Except for Thanos and Nam-gyu, they meant all the harm

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Taglist: @ilikedrinkingsoda @nxttaru

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msmargaretmurry · 2 days ago

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hello tumblr i have finished reading s.hoot your s.hot and so this is a post about all my thoughts about it for @moregraceful and also anyone else who is interested i suppose!

first off let me say that i have nothing against l.exi b.rown, i am neutral-to-positive toward her as a person/public figure in the hockey world. like, i do think that sometimes she lets the line between space for fans/space for the hockey enterprise we are fans of get a little uncomfortably blurred, and sometimes she loses sight her own privilege a little bit, and sometimes she's a little bit cringe, but whomst among us isn't a little bit cringe? being a little bit cringe is an essential part of the human experience. but overall i think it's good to have a loud voice in a place of privilege within the hockey community who is willing to adamantly say trans rights and black lives matter and homophobia is dumb and bad, you know? i feel the need to say this because i AM going to be a little mean about this book but i have seen reactions to it here on the world wide web that feel like the people behind them are just getting off on the chance to be mean to a woman who is popular on the internet.

anyway becky just review the book.

SHORT VERSION: when i first posted that i was reading this, a very nice anon messaged to be like, i read it and while i thought it wasn't great on a craft level, i thought she delivered on the things she said she would deliver on — accuracy in the hockey parts, queer rep, and poc rep. and i agree, and i think those are worthwhile things! on a craft level the book was pretty clunky and in some specific ways Not For Me, but on a story level it was fine, and in other ways it was good actually. it was far from the worst hockey romance i have ever read and not worse than other clunkily written romance novels i've read and judged but that other people seem to love. anyone acting like it's the worst book ever written needs to take a breath. it was fine! there are some things i liked about it! the sex scenes were really bad though!

TL;DR VERSION:

so i went into this book with low expectations, largely because in the leadup to it lexi did not really make herself out to be a person who, like, particularly enjoys or respects romance as a genre. the built her audience in the hockey romance world by poking fun at other hockey romances and making fun of "sexy" hockey tropes and while i didn't necessarily disagree with her takes on those things (i felt very vindicated that she disliked my beloathed HIM, for example) i think that being a normal nobody who is critical of those things online is different from being a person with a pretty big platform who does it and then turns around and says, and now i'm going to write a book in this genre that does things RIGHT! while at the same time talking about how the books you actually enjoy reading are like, edgy literary fiction or whatever. (not derogatory; i also love edgy literary fiction)

so in addition to that setting my own expectations low i think that right off the bat it set her up for some unsympathetic responses — by selling herself as the person who could "fix" hockey romance, she possibly drew in people who wouldn't read hockey romance otherwise, or who have tried it and didn't like it, which could be a good thing if the book is like, genre-trancendingly good, but when it inevitably is not, all those people just wind up reading a mid hockey romance set against way too high expectations. also some people just REALLY like an excuse to mock women on the internet/romance as a genre.

(which isn't to say everyone has been a hater about it; it seems like her book launch events have gone great and plenty of people have genuinely enjoyed the book, so, good! i'm glad people are having fun!)

so, i am going to list the good parts and the bad parts, in my opinion.

BAD PARTS:

alternating first person present tense povs. my actual least favorite tense+pov combination in all of literature. i know some people like it but it is actively a turn-off for me.

needed an aggressive line-edit so bad. on a sentence level the prose was clunky in a lot of places. too many words. girlie needed to ctrl+f certain abverbs so badly, and then delete delete delete.

the pacing was not horrible but not great at times, especially with time jumps between chapters that were sometimes a little confusing. honestly a lot of my gripes about the craft stuff in this book are big baby's first novel problems, and romance novels are notoriously poorly edited, so.

the show/tell ratio was wayyyyy off. girl stop telling us stuff and show us instead. related gripe so it goes in this bullet point as well, you can tell when an author doesn't trust their readers to make connections or come to conclusions themselves so they feel like they have to spell out every little think they want you to think and i find that very tiring.

oh lord the sex scenes. lexi said at some point that she's uncomfortable writing them (but felt like she had to include them due to genre expectations) and you can really tell. the prose was at its clunkiest in these scenes and it seemed like she was trying to get through them as quickly as possible. imo the book would have been just fine, possibly better, without them. also girl no one forced you to write in this genre.

i said to jess and maggie early on in reading this book that it has a kind of wattpad self-insert fanfiction vibe and now having finished it i do think that on a story level it's a step up from wattpadesque, it cannot escape the self-insert fanfic vibe of a bisexual woman married to a black hockey man writing a book about a bisexual woman and a black hockey man who seem to have personalities fairly close to the real people. this may have been helped if she didn't name the characters LUCY AND JJ but who knows. this made reading it a little weird sometimes! there were points in reading where i wondered if she would have been better off from a craft/genre-appreciation level writing a straight up memoir or like, purposely thinly veiled literary autofiction, but of course those things don't have the market power of hockey romance. idk. despite this i also liked the diversity, so, big shrugs from me here.

this book is billed specifically as a ROM-COM and not a ROMANCE, which to me feels like lexi trying to distance herself a little from traditional romance, because she's not a big fan of traditional romance, which gets a huge sigh from me. also while there are some genuinely funny moments, a lot of it reads like the scenes of a movie being described, which is a pet peeve of mine. it is REALLY hard to write a funny story; i think that romcoms thrive on screen because they benefit from physical comedy, chemistry, and timing in a way that's really really difficult to capture in writing.

some people don't mind a lot of pop culture references in their contemporary fiction but unfortunately i am a person who often finds them pretty awkward and therefore the fact that many characters' personalities hinge on the pop culture references they make and the brands they use was tiring to me. relatedly, while i mostly didn't have gripes about factual accuracy in this book, at one point lucy mentions that they're been dating for a month and gotten halfway through watching naruto and i'm like girl do know know how many episodes of naruto there are. how did they have time to fuck

my one big accuracy gripe is that at a certain point lucy (an artist) starts selling her art online to make ends meet and is super successful at it, with no explanation of how this happened. selling art online is really hard! is she working social media hard to bring in customers? did she somehow tap into an existing market for her style of art? we just don't know!

GOOD PARTS:

the hockey details did indeed feel very accurate! it is worth acknowleding imo that she has a certain privilege in this area — she can literally just ask her nhler husband how things work if she doesn't already know from her years around the league — but the accuracy level in other hockey romances i've read have been so abysmally low that simply being accurate to the basics of how nhl/north american hockey works was pretty refreshing.

even though the writing was clunky, some of my favorite parts were when lucy was hanging out with her queer friends and the work that did to keep this book from feeling aggressively heterosexual in a weird patriarchal gender roles way that so many hockey romances do. and not even just het hockey romances. HIM (beloathed) was so wildly misogynistic it boggled my mind. it was nice to read a hockey romance that didn't feel like it hates women!

(please imagine every bullet point on this list beginning with, "even though the writing was clunky—")

similarly it was nice that jaylen felt like a real person with real problems and not a weird hockey man archetype of masculinity. i liked that the text acknowledged how his blackness affected his hockey experience. i enjoyed how he was written as a straight man who is genuinely cool with queer people. one of my favorite scenes was when lucy's friend clocks how much he likes her because he quietly gave a huge donation to the seattle pride fundraiser she'd dragged him to. i too would love for an attractive man to express his feelings for me by donating a ton of money to my gay friends!

both lucy and jaylen had genuinely strong character arcs that made sense for real people in their circumstances in the real world, but i especially liked jaylen's in how it was built out of real issues within the hockey world — the extreme pressure players (especially black players and high draft picks) are under to perform and put hockey before everything, the way that can fuck with your head, etc. once again just refreshing to have realistic hockey details!

not every character or relationship beat hit for me, but there were some genuinely cute and funny ones, especially later in the book. i thought one of the things lexi did a good job showing more than telling was the growing level of comfort/intimacy that lucy and jaylen had with each other, and while the third-act breakup did not come as a surprise, it did feel like a realistic problem for them to run into, as opposed to a contrived miscommunication like so many romance novels seem to like to have.

overall i'm like, yeah, it was fine! it wasn't awful, it wasn't great, i wish the writing had been better and there were parts i thought were especially poorly written but also parts i genuinely liked or appreciated! mainly my feelings here are that people are going to keep writing mid to bad hockey romances and i would rather those books have people of color in them, and queer people in them, and know how hockey works, and have a genuine love for the game and the community around it than not have those things, so i'm not mad at this book for existing even if i have some issues with it. obviously lexi has a big, built-in platform and access to the nhl that other authors don't have and hopefully she'll use that for good to inspire and support more diversity in hockey romance!

#ms.post #hockey for ts

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shegatsby · 1 day ago

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Love Thy Enemy

Summary; Y/N Atreides had always been a stranger to the entire galaxy, her bed wasn’t her bed, her home wasn’t her home due to the fact that she was sent to accompany and be sisters with Irulan. She had limited access to her actual family and over the years they grew distant. She thought she would be like Reverend Mother, alone, yet powerful, and soon she would realize that there was no need of being alone when a wild creature had his eyes on her for a long time.

A/N: Hello little doves! Here with another chapter. I am having fun writing this! Thank you so much for supporting me and liking, leaving commnets. Means alot. Love u all.

Warnings: Slight mention of SA. Our babies yearning for each other especially Feyd!

Words: 2.081K

TAG LIST IS OPEN! (Let me know if i forgot to tag your or if you changed your username pls)

Chapter Twelve

Y/N woke up with a strange scent hitting her brain through her nostrils, the scent was strong, she opened her eyes but didn’t move because she didn’t know where she was and if they noticed that she was awake they might do something to her. She was on the ground, laid on a thin orange rug, it was made of spice fibers, that was the cause of the smell. She was in Arrakis and the entire planet filled with spice, and it had a strong scent. Someone must have changed her clothes because she was wearing a long dress, the color beige, it was baggy and comfortable. The inside was lit by the dim glowglobes, the color dark yellow, she noticed the coolness of the inside, she was in a Sietch.

‘’Morning Sayyadina.’’ A woman’s voice was heard, without looking Y/N already deduced that it was the same woman who captured her. Thanks to her Bene Gesserit tricks she might walk out alive because the sisterhood had spread their prophecies and religious believes throughout the entire planet.

Y/N slowly moved her body to sat, the ground under her was carved and rough, this Sietch must be thousands of years old and still changing its shape every year, maybe another thousand years it will disappear.

The woman was standing by the open space, the room didn’t have a door just a hole that was covered with a thin sheet of spice curtain, clearly handmade. She entered the room and sat opposite of Y/N. ‘’If I had known you were with child I wouldn’t have hit you so hard.’’ She was sincere, looking at Y/N with dark blue eyes, due to spice consumption the Fremens’ eyes turn to blue. How did they know that she was pregnant? Maybe their Reverend Mother dressed her and found out. Her hand went to her head, a piece of dry blood rubbed itself on her fingers, it hurt but she didn’t make a sound, she couldn’t show any weaknesses. ‘’Here.’’ The woman came with a tray of cold water and piece of bread, Y/N came up with a conclusion that if they wanted her dead she would be dead already so she took the tray and drank the water, it tasted strange but she knew it wasn’t poisoned. ‘’Thank you.’’ She said, keeping her voice calm and neutral. Y/N looked at the woman, she was one of the warriors and she had some designs on her suit that distinguished her from other warriors, her rank must be high. ‘’Why do you call me Sayyadina?’’ she asked, curious. The woman stood up, ‘’Because you are a witch, but you haven’t completed your journey yet. Finish your bread and come with me.’’

It dawned on her, her mind immediately went to a book she had read before coming here, there was a section about Reverend Mothers of Arrakis that said; Sayyadina- Among the Fremen the Syyadina, (Friend of God in Chakobsa) is a priestess who has not yet passed within to become a Reverend Mother. When a Sayyadina undergoes the spice agony, another is then consecrated into the Sayyadina to continue the line of succession.

Did they want her to be the new Reverend Mother? For the Sisterhood, especially Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam it would be a great victory, having Y/N as Helen’s little spy and shaping the future in Arrakis. However, her main reason to be here was to be with her husband, Feyd-Rautha. She was aware of the obvious fact that Fremens hated Harkonnens and if they found out that Y/N was married to one and carrying his child… she didn’t want to think of that. She had to get out of here but she knew that alone in the desert, she didn’t stand a chance.

Y/N got up as she finished her bread and left the small room, she didn’t have any footwear but the coldness of the ground calmed her senses. Outside of the room she was kept, there was a larger space, there were holes on the walls for Fremens’ rooms to sleep, it must have been daylight because they were all inside and working. Some were training, some were sewing the warrior clothes that were damaged. They all looked at her up and down, their blue eyes screamed ‘’Stranger!’’

They were a society where their eyes talked more than their mouths. The entire Sietch was lit by glowglobs, there were few holes on the tops so sunlight coming through but thanks to the design the inside was perfectly colder than the hell outside. ‘’During the day we don’t go out, not just because of the heat, we don’t want to be seen by the enemy.’’ The woman was explaining as she walked and Y/N was following her like a toddler. She immediately knew who the enemy was, her husband and his family. ‘’At night we go out, we hunt, we attack.’’ She stopped and turned to her, ‘’I’ll teach you how to sandwalk.’’

Y/N watched some videos on it, in order to be safe and not being detected by the giant worms one must learn how to sandwalk, it was like a dance, a dance to Shai-Hulud one might argue. ‘’We learn when we’re only a child.’’ She continued explaining few stuff about her culture and the way of life here. ‘’I am taking you to our Naib. Stilgar.’’ Naib ment ‘’leader of sietch’’ she had to be cunning and manipulative as her sisters. Y/N’s hand went to her stomach and she started to pray silently; Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration…

Feyd-Rautha Harkonenn unlike his older brother Glossu ‘’Beast’’ Rabban he hadalready figured it out that the best time to explore and attack was at night. During the day the desert was a killing machine, because of Rabban they had lost so many useful men. During the day Feyd and his men had made plans on the map of the desert, his first plan was to go to the abandoned cargo ship and deduce himself, maybe he could see something that his men couldn’t and try to find the nearby Sietches, the problem was that these Sietches were hidden so carefully that one couldn’t see but had to know the secret ways to enter. The ones they had found were empty and the rumors had reached his ears, all of the Fremen tribes were getting together to attack him. He had to stop them before it happened and also he had to find his wife. His priorities were shifting and the hologram message he got from his uncle earlier today wasn’t to his liking. Baron Vladimir Harkonnen was furious, he was demanding Y/N’s head. Of course he didn’t say to Feyd that she was pregnant, if Feyd knew he wouldn’t touch her but Baron wanted her dead. He figured they could find another highborn wench for his dear nephew and they could have as many male offspring as they wished. His words ringing in Feyd’s ears; ‘’She put our family name in disgrace. If you don’t take care of her your brother will.’’

Feyd’s blood boiled as soon as he heard that sentence, his throat went dry. He remembered the night of Rabban’s disrespect towards her, Feyd knew what kind of a monster his brother was. Rabban was going to rape her first and then torture her and then kill her. Feyd punched the bathroom mirror, he would burn his entire household to the ground before he let that happen. He looked at his reflection through the broken glass, distorted just like him, she was the opposite of him. She was kind, gentle and he would kill every man on this galaxy to see her and hold her in his strong arms one last time.

As the night came with shiny starts with the moons visible on the night sky, Feyd and his soldiers mounted the ships and left the palace. Their first stop was the cargo ship which was raided by the Fremen and left to rot. ‘’Na- Baron, we have searched the entire ship and only found Lady Na-Baroness’ headscarf as you know. There is nothing here.’’ His old advisor said in a neutral tone, standing behind Feyd who had entered the ship through broken metal lids, as soon as he entered his strong animalistic senses could pick up her pheromones, just like he did with the headscarf his men brought to him but he noticed something strange. Her pheromones were more sweeter than usual, more lively.. He wondered why he was picking that scent but didn’t dwell on it. The ship was just an empty metal box, the Fremen had taken every cable every electrical device they could.

Their next stop nearby rocks and mountains, the search continued till the first light, Feyd was growing restless, he was determined to bring her back but the first day of rescue failed miserably and his rage had met three of his servants, he put their heads on spikes for everyone to see, he announced before he entered the through the palace’s gigantic stone doors, ‘’The person who finds Lady Na-Baroness will earn enough spice to make him the emperor of this galaxy!’’ he yelled to his army who were standing immobile in the sand garden of the palace, there were only few palm trees and just orange sand. His arm saluted in the Harkonen way and screamed his name;

‘’Feyd-Rautha!’’

It had been few weeks since she arrived, the woman who captured her became her friend, Sama was a fierce warrior and also a caring person. She was giving Y/N extra food since she was pregnant. Sama had told her that the reason why she wasn’t was because that Stilgar knew she would be helpful and he was right, Y/N was healing the warriors, helping the old Reverend Mother, making healing potions and teaching it to the young Sayyadinas. She had quickly figured it out that there were no such thing as useless Fremen, the useless ones were killed, they grew up in this hard conditions and trained themselves to be selfless and be at service all the time. When she was free she was wandering in this enormous Sietch and try to eavesdrop. She was quick to learn a new language so she started to understand their daily conversations and yesterday her heart filled with hope because she heard Sama and Stilgar talking about the ‘’Harkonnens’’

Stilgar had said ‘’That boy is looking for someone, do you think it is a coincidence that we found her in the middle of the desert? Wake up Sama!’’ Stilgar had put the pieces together but apparently Sama was in denial, maybe she didn’t want to believe that her new friend was a Harkonnen’s wife…

Every night she was praying to meet him again, see him and melt into his arms. Y/N felt the ring on her finger, it was the wedding ring Feyd had given her, it belonged to her mother.. she had so many questions. Did he really killed his own mother? If he did then what was she suppose to do? She knew that nothing will be answered till she sees him in flesh and blood.

‘’Sayyadina?!’’ someone called her name, she turned to face the owner of the voice, ‘’Reverend Mother has asked your presence in her private chambers.’’ She bowed her head and followed the man, Fremen men were mostly dark skinned and dark haired, they were very muscular and always alert. The curtain was drawn, she cleared her throat and entered, the dim lights gave the room a mysterious look, there were books at every corner, potions and religious artifacts. ‘’Reverend Mother.’’ She bowed, the old woman was sitting on the ground, her entire body covered, only her face could be seen, she motioned with her hand for Y/N to come closer and she did, she sat in front of the old woman.

She was in spice trance, it was evident in her blown eyes and the smell of the spice, she held Y/N’s hand, the grip tenacious. ‘’I see you, all the time..’’ she began, her voice hoarse, ‘’he is looking for his wife… a treachery on his part.’’

Y/N was aware of the fact that too much spice consumption gave one prophecies, ‘’Soon, soon..’’ the old woman started to scream, ‘’Soon! Soon!’’ other Sayaddinas marched in and helped Y/N, the old woman’s grip left a red mark on her wrist.

TAG LIST:

@superchatnoir07 @mamawiggers1980 @landlockedmermaid77 @moonsoulk @crystalskiesandcherrywine @palomavz @beebeechaos @jeong-uwu @tian-monique @avidreader73 @aleemendoza2425-blog @taleah @oneandonlybbygrl @flower-frog @or-was-it-just-a-dream @howibecameabadassbitch @monstresshorn @keanuispunk @lunerose0 @purplepeach333 @torossosebs @austinbutlerslovers @athanasialove @darlingisntit @aoi-targaryen @alexa4040 @wo-ming-bai @rosegardenpatsu @affabletimelady @mydearbabydoll @sabrinaselina55 @lothiriel9 @missbingu @vikingsbifrost @lechat-rouge

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tathrin · 2 days ago

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So this thing is amazing, and I love the whole premise of it. However, my own focus in the fandom is very much on The Lord of the Rings books more than anything else, which leaves me in something of a pickle when I spin the wheel and get a movie-centric character whom I really don't know, and also has me lamenting the lack of chances to land on any pairs including my book-only blorbos.

So, with permission from @frodosrings, I have made an alternate version of the wheel that focuses primarily on the characters of The Lord of the Rings books. Check it out below!

Third & Fourth Age LotR Book-verse Randomized Character Pair Wheel

These are pairs mostly focused on people who were living and dying at the end of the Third Age/beginning of the Fourth Age... with a few folks from the Silmarillion sprinkled in for DramaTM and Fun TimesTM (and because several of said characters are likely to be alive again in Valinor eventually, where they'll be able to meet those of our heroes who get to/have to Sail).

There are more than 500 different character pairings available, so spin away and see what you get!

For the non-Third-Age-centric additions, I picked Silm-characters whom I thought would create interesting narratives/emotional journeys for our LotR heroes, because the focus of this wheel is on them—but I thought it was more fun if we got people like Celebrían and Celebrimbor and so-on to play with, too!

(There are also a few Silm-Silm character pairs, whom I admittedly was mostly thinking about in a Fourth Age/re-embodiment situation, but you certainly don't have to write them that way!)

As in the original list, not all of these randomized pairs feature characters who have an easy way to interact in canon—but who says you have to write strictly canon-verse? Go wild and make yourself an AU if you want! Or have somebody stray into a dream, or a liminal space where time folds in on itself, or maybe they meet in the Halls of Mandos, or drift off into a song that may or may not be really happening, or reflect on someone they know from history books/poems/songs, etc etc...

No limits, no holds barred. Take it seriously, make it crack, whatever suits! Write it, draw it, cross-stitch it if you want! This is all about stretching your creative muscles, so don't let me get in your way.

Your Quest, should you choose to accept it:

Write (or draw, etc) something the features the pair of characters you get when you spin the wheel. This can be anything, from a one-shot drabble to a 10k multi-chapter epic, a bullet-list of headcanons, an "incorrect quotes" post, a doodle, a painting...anything! Just make sure you're primarily highlighting the pair you spun, in whatever way you choose to do that.

Use the hashtag #tolkienrandompairs so that everybody can keep track of and enjoy seeing everything! If you prefer to post on AO3, please tag there as well, so we can all find your stuff.

nsfw fics/etc are allowed, but please mark those clearly to make this a safe event for everyone to participate in (and avoid awkward moments on public transport/work/etc!).

If your piece includes commonly-triggering material, again please tag or otherwise indicate that. (Do not c*nsor your trigger warnings and tags! That defeats the purpose of tagging in the first place, and prevents things like block-lists and filters from functioning!)

While you don't have to treat these pairs as ships, you certainly can; but let's have NO ship-wars or kink-shaming, etc! "Don't like, don't read" shall be the law of the land, and everyone shall live happily-ever-after whether on this side of the Sundering Sea or the other, thank you.

If you like something you read or see, please comment and tell the writer/artist/etc! Fandom should be a community, but if we don't communicate with each other, we're all just screaming alone in the dark. (Nobody wants to be Gollum! Please talk to your fellow fans so they know they aren't alone!)

There is no limit to how many times you can spin the wheel, and no cut-off-point for the event: keep spinning, and writing, and posting, and tagging, for as long as you wish!

Any questions about anything (or suggestions for other characters/pairs to add to the wheel), please don't be shy! You can reach out to @frodosrings as well, and many thanks to them for both coming up with this brilliant idea, and for being so willing to let me stick my fingers into the pie as well.

Now get spinning, and have fun!

#tolkienrandompairs #lotr fanfiction #writing prompt #fanfic prompt #lotr #lotr fic #lord of the rings #lotr headcanons #tolkien #shipping #platonic relationships

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factual-fantasy · 3 days ago

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25 Asks! Thanks y'all :}}🦍

I haven't gone into detail about what I've been battling for anonymity reasons, but there's not much to be said anyways.

Its basically "You don't have anything on this huge list so we're feeling like its probably this. Here's some stuff for you to do and see if it works."

So far I have not been cured. 💀

After reading through these, Cybertron and Beastwars peaked my interest :00 But I just don't think I could stomach the others. Especially not animated 😅

Thank you very much for these reviews tho! It was greatly appreciated!! :))

@mothpendragon

SCREMASS THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :DDDDD

And YEAHHHH LES GOO!!! Another Ratchet fan! :DDD I love Ratchet he's so grumpy and so full of love and care but he wont admit that��🧡🧡

@misscherrypie

(Spanish to English translation: I'd like another 45 tangerines)

XDD Yup! That's me for sure. I've wolfed down like 4 bags in the last few weeks! XDD 💞💀

(Referencing this post)

Thank you so much!!! :DDD And I do kind'a wish we saw more of a reaction from Optimus when he saw for himself that Raf was ok at least..

When Ratchet called to Optimus during his battle "Optimus.. we did it." (Referencing that they cured Raf) it didn't look like Optimus heard him.. which made me think that Optimus was going to be noticeably more tense/angry/panicked once he got his memory back. Because as far as he knew Raf was still dying, and that caused him to freak out earlier sooo...

I expected him to look distressed until he walked into the base and saw Raf and realized that he had been cured. Oh well 😔 I can say tho that Optimus immediately addressing Raf by name to make it clear he remembers him was a sweet touch 😌❤️

@gas-station-chip-dip

AAAAAAA THANK YOU!! :DD THAT MEAN A LOT!! :}}}💞💞💞

@1nksp1ll

:DDD THANK YOU!! :}}}}

@badlyblurry (Image is from this post)

HDJHBHBF THANKYIUUUU XDDD IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE HOW I DRAW HIM!!! :}}}}}}

@minnesotamedic186

I just made it up! :0

(Referencing this post)

Ooooo that's a good question. And I kiiind'a think I have an idea for it..?

I imagine that synthetic energon- (when fully completed and when not) is a green/turquoise color. I pictured that the process of making it artificially is what makes it off color. So what if any fluids that their body makes with synthetic energon is ALSO off color? Maybe instead of red tears they would be orange? Or yellow? Probably orange..

Now with dark energon.. I kind of imagined that all the fluids in a transformers body are replaced with dark energon due to its mythical/endlessly powerful nature. Instead of crying lubricant, Megatron just leaks dark energon.. 💀

ALSO SEHFSHEF THANUYOUU XDD

Ah sorry, but I have privated my TFP OC ref sheets. 😥

@imafrealinrainbow478484

Not doing so great today, hoping I feel better tomorrow 😔 Thank you tho! <:) I hope you're feeling better than I am! <XDD

@kaiserdarken

There would be chaos 💀

@artistiemi

HAPPY (late) MARIO DAY!! :DDD

What does this mean 💞💞

@neo-metalscottic

AAAA THANYUU SO MUCH!!! 😭😭💞💞💞

Now for the vehicons.. are they not actually clones? I always assumed they were.. If the canon suggests they aren't clones there's a loooot of rethinking I need to do 💀

(Link in ask)

I thought Tailgate was a bit chaotic I didn't know he was straight up unhinged-

(Takes notes for my tfp Tailgate👀)

(Link in ask)

Breakdown is/was a nurse? Is this canon.? I don't remember that.. I always thought he was just a generic soldier meant to counter the wrecker class :0

Its easy for me to draw through all the sickness and aching, because its my favorite thing to do and cheers me up a lot! :)

@candyglumboy

I've always kind'a liked Sonic. But I'm not sure how I'd dive into making comics for it.. There seems to be a lot of lore I need to catch up on.. 😞

Also I watched the 1st sonic movie and thought it was alright. I've played some odd sonic games here and there too! :)

@doodleclownbunny

AAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :DDD

And ooooo! :000 That's a fun Wally design! :)))

YES SIR MR.ANON SIR🫡🫡

@beryl-shade

Well... yes, I suppose it has! 😅

I will keep my eyes peeled for this 👁️👁️

@webbdiverr

Its like they always say, great minds think alike! XDDD

#my response #transformers prime

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crystalslucky · 3 days ago

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Crystal listened to his story, nodding along and making sure he knew she was paying close attention. She would have loved to pry deeper but she wasn't going to overstep and lose any opportunity she might have here. So rather than ask more questions that he might shrug off or refuse to answer anyway, she just absorbed the information of what he remembered last before coming here.

"Honestly. Aliens is starting to sound more and more likely." she claimed in a sing song voice hoping that might lighten the mood as she respected his privacy with the more deeper details he implied but didn't say outright.

She was sure that they could go on and on about theories but the prospect of alone time on the beach with a guy like Tej was more enticing. It reminded her of sneaking out during summer nights with whatever beautiful person caught her interest that week, finding a secluded spot just for them and returning back with all kinds of marks they tenderly scattered across their bodies. Even reminiscing made Crystal feel delighted at the thought that her first night on a beautiful island that looked straight out of a promotional cruise ad, could end with her hooking up on the beach with an absolute hottie.

"A guitar too? You gonna tell me now that along with your art career, you also played in a band on the side? Did someone slip you a list of all the qualities I find irresistible before I showed up here?"

Crystal liked to exaggerate the truth when she could. To her, it made things more interesting, even if she stretched the truth so thin that it was impossible to tell which part of her tall tales was based in reality. So when he asked about chosen family as a supplement to her lack of real family she sighed. "Everyone is always focused on themselves nowadays. It's hard to connect with people and choose your family when everyone has moved on from that ride or die mentality. Now everyone is too busy protecting their peace. So it's just been me, myself and I."

Tej seemed to be on board with a little revenge plot which was perfect to her. Sometimes making people jealous was one of the most fun someone could have. Being in control of someone else's emotions was a treat. "I can tell him more than that if you really want to drive him crazy." she offered with playful smirk, letting her fingers gently glide along his collarbone as she fiddled with the collar of his shirt. "A gorgeous guy like you, it wouldn't be unbelievable to think you could be getting some laid and moving on. Especially here. There's no way people haven't been finding themselves hooking up with strangers for a little bit of comfort since arriving."

"Mm, a little morbid speculation never hurt anyone. I mean, they've got those cameras on us 24/7." Omnipresent electric eyes focused unblinkingly. The bungalows, the warehouse-- all constant reminders some presiding structure took the utmost interest to bring them there. Watch them, keep them. "Maybe we'll never know the whole story of why we're here and who's behind the cameras, but it's still hard not to wonder." Last summer felt so unbearable close, as near as the water they sat by. "Nothing specific makes me think it, it's just another idea. But. I was packing up my flat, moving out." Moving on. Moving away.

Or really, running away. To a familiar old city where the dream versions of Zaid and Tej lived.

"I was supposed to be meeting with an art dealer, to wrap up some business." (Something else he'd never tell Zaid, that Tej finally listened to a piece of advice.) "I found something that belonged to my niece, I thought it was lost. A toy." A bittersweet smile signaled this was as far as he'd go on that point.

"And then I opened the front door and was blinded by light. Next thing I knew, I was waking up on that boat out there." Lost time, but fairly frictionless. Nothing major, and he only retold it in case a new aspect might appear.

Amused, he nodded. "It's a good observation. A little suss, coming from you," he joked. "But yeah, very weird." Crystal seemed keen on the bonfire. Tej stood up in time to follow a pointed finger to the volcano. "Mhm, there's firewood. We're separateed from the volcano by water but we can get as close as we can to build the fire. Yeah, guess it'll make a nice backdrop. Better than a half-sunken cruise ship, hm?" He scratched at the back of his head. "A few bottles, a guitar, some marshmallows. What else do we need?"

Tej feigned offense with a click of his tongue as he played along. "And you claim to be from New York, don't know her most famous up and coming artist." The fun was brief. "My grandfather raised us, me and my siblings, after our parents passed on." For the last decade or so, dealings with Dada had been wrought with tension. Disappointment, anger. He shook it off. "What about chosen family, got any of that back home?"

The seeds she planted quickly took root. He stood silently toiling over make you jealous... fucking hell. Zaid would totally want to flaunt whoever he so easily moved on with in Tej's face. The prick. (Forget the fact Tej employed jealousy any time he didn't get his way.) After a distant moment, his jaw set tighter and his gaze went back to Crystal. "Hm? Oh, ah. We split about a year ago." Plenty of time let go (for fuck's sake, let it go). "Sorry, yeah. Sounds about right for Zaid. Sorry you're getting dragged into it." The curve of his smile brought on by vindictive thoughts. He swiped away a long stray lock of hair that the wind swept into her face. "We could have a bit of fun with it. You can tell him I invited you to a bonfire?"

#[ tej virani ]#[ tej01 ]#[ interlude 02 ]

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shhh-secret-time · 1 year ago

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Fuck it, OC brain rot won. Get ready for the Secret Ask List

1) Does your OC have a voice claim, if so who?

2) Who's your OCs best friend? How did they become best friends?

3) What song describes your OC?

4) What song describes your OC and their partner/love interest?

5) Do you ship your OC with a Canon character? If so who?

6) If your OC is in a fantasy setting, what profession would they be in the modern day?

7) Vice-Versa! If your OC is in the modern day, what fantasy class would they be? Would they be a different race?

8) What hobbies does your OC have? What do they do to unwind?

9) How does your OC handle their physical health? Do they take care of themselves?

10) How does your OC handle their mental health? Do they take care of themselves?

11) What was your inspiration for your OC?

12) Does your OC interact with other people's OC? If so, who's their best OC friend?

13) Does your OC have a rival? How did it start?

14) Who's a character your OC cannot stand! It's on sight when they see them!

15) Will your OC ever retire? Do you see them making it?

16) How's their relationship with their parents? Are they alive?

17) If your OC has kids, are they a good parent? Do they ever feel guilty if they have to leave them?

18) What are their pronouns? What would they like to be called?

19) What's their sexuality? What's their love language both giving and receiving?

20) If they fight, what's their weapon of choice?

21) What song best describes their relationship with their enemy?

22) Fight or Flight? Are they a lover or a fighter?

23) Is your OC reliable? Can I call them up at two in the morning if I have a flat tire?

24) Can they play any instruments? If so, what do they play?

25) Are they the kind of person who can't resist a good song? Can I catch your OC singing to themselves while they do the dishes?

26) What flower do you associate your OC with?

27) What's their spirit tamagotchi? Or an animal you associate them with?

28) What clique would they be in? (Draw them in the clothes of said group!)

29) Imagine a mood board for your OC! What's on it? (Make it if you want!)

30) My OC and your OC are friends. This isn't a question. I'm not asking. (How do they respond?)

#oc questions #question list #ask game #oc #my oc #thought it would be fun to make my own!#feel free to steal and add questions #send asks #I just love talking about people's characters #d&d characters #anime ocs #South Park Ocs #I don't care just talk to me about it #my ask box is open for a reason #30 questions #shhh its a secret

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guardian-angle22 · 7 months ago

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This or That: Tarlos Edition -> AUs or canon compliant fics? ↳ Love Game by @welcometololaland ↳ Rescue Me by @littlemissmarianna ↳ summer slipped us underneath her tongue by @alrightbuckaroo ↳ Magnetic North by @paperstorm ↳ no rules in breakable heaven by @strandnreyes

#911 lone star #911lsedit #911 lone star fic rec #tarlos #tarlos fics #fic rec list #my gifs #tk strand #carlos reyes #ok so i'm kinda lying with my answer here cause i love aus and canon compliant fics EQUALLY!#BUT I thought it would be fun to try and make some gifs to go with some awesome AUs out there #hope y'all like these!!#a disclaimer I always put when I link people's fics: if you don't want to be tagged just let me know!#(here i am late night posting again lol)#this or that tarlos edition

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myokk · 7 months ago

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before it felt like a sin, ch. 1

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

word count: 3000

summary: Eloise never wanted to be different.

And yet, her differences are what have defined her life up until this point: growing up as a squib in one of the most prominent wizarding families, being exiled to muggle society, and then attending Hogwarts at the age of sixteen.

She finds herself thrust into the life she should have been prepared for from birth but was denied. As she navigates this new life and her new precarious position in her family, she must come to terms with the fact that maybe what she dreamed of her whole life isn't turning out how she ever expected it would.

a/n: Hi everyone!! I decided to post this here too...I'm slowly going through everything I've written so far, and I want to post each chapter here as I edit them. I'm hoping that this can be a way to a) get back in to writing more, and b) get better at my art as I make full illustrations for each chapter. Let me know what you think!! :)

There is nothing quite as horrible as being a muggle, Eloise thought savagely as she ripped out yet another stitch in the landscape she was embroidering. At least, it was supposed to be a landscape. Maybe with her head tilted to the left and with her eyes almost closed so everything blurred together, it might resemble one. She did just that, trying her hardest to make out some recognizable shape and blast the stupid practice of manually pushing colored thread through a fabric in some sort of -

“And what is this, Miss Babbit?”

Eloise jumped at the sound and looked up at the scowling face of her teacher, and then quickly back down at the tangled thread in her lap. Behind her, she could hear the hushed giggles of the other girls in her class.

“Oh! Er…it’s -”

“How long have you been here?” the woman interrupted.

“One hour…I just -”

“Don’t be smart with me. I mean, at this institute.”

“Five years.” Eloise glared down at her embroidery as if it had personally offended her. It wasn’t like she was actively trying to be bad at everything, but she had the distinct disadvantage - how had it ever come to be that she would be at a disadvantage to muggles? - of not having spent a lifetime being prepared for muggle society and all that it entailed. The last five years had been a monotonous, endless cycle of lessons designed to turn her into the perfect lady: French (a waste of time as Eloise was already fluent), embroidery (a waste of time as the things she embroidered weren’t actually useful), dancing (a waste of time as she was already engaged to be married - why would she bother trying to woo another silly man?), and her most dreaded class of all: etiquette. No matter how many years had been spent trying to assimilate into muggle culture, her thoughts still got muddled when she tried to remember the steps to a dance, or how to properly address the son of a duke.

Did it really matter, anyways, what the other girls thought? She had pretended her whole life to be the daughter she thought her parents had wanted - now she was simply pretending that she hadn’t been thrown into the muggle world without a second thought. What was a bit more pretending - that she didn’t care? That she hadn’t been tossed aside without a second thought?

“Exactly. Five years. And yet, you have shown no progress whatsoever. This -” a finger jabbed accusingly at the embroidery - “is absolutely horrendous. If your parents hadn’t continued to make such a sizeable donation every year, I would have deemed you a lost cause and sent you packing when you first arrived. How your family ever managed your betrothal to the son of an earl is beyond me.”

Eloise grimaced at the mention of her fiance as her teacher clapped her hands together to get the attention of the class - a wholly unnecessary action due to the fact that it was already being given. “Class is dismissed. Please collect your belongings and put them in the correct place. Remember, as future wives and mothers, you must be organized in all aspects of your life. Many of you will be managing important households and the slightest misstep -“ a slight glance to Eloise out of the corner of her eye - “can cause the biggest of scandals.”

Eloise raced to gather her things and leave the classroom before everyone else. No matter how many years had been spent at the school, she couldn’t help but hate sitting through the classes amongst the judgmental stares and snide remarks. Although things had started out shaky at the finishing school - to be expected, really, when you’ve grown up in wizarding society and then are then forced to live as a muggle - it still stung that after all these years, she still hadn’t found a friendly face. She was treated as if she were a pariah: it was as if the other girls just knew that something was different about her. But…wasn’t that the great irony of it all? She wasn’t different than them. She was a filthy squib.

When she first arrived at the school, she was an anomaly. A twelve-year-old girl who didn’t know how to play the piano or who the queen was. It was clear to everyone that Eloise wasn’t the charity case of the school - her parents were obviously quite wealthy - and yet they seemingly wanted nothing to do with her. Whereas the others got regular letters and visits from their family, it was as if Eloise were an orphan. Nothing new to her of course, but to her peers this otherness aided them in her ostracization.

Upon entering her room, she was abruptly pulled out of her thoughts. Something wasn’t right. Everything seemed the same: a twin bed perfectly made opposite a small wardrobe, a plain wooden desk placed between them. The weak afternoon sunlight shone through the window, illuminating her desk. But…there.

That…

Placed on her bed, resting on the pillow, was a letter.

She never received letters.

Eloise shoved her embroidery under her bed and hungrily grabbed at it, pausing when she saw the address. Miss E. Babbit. The Third Bedroom on the Left… It seemed vaguely familiar to her in a way she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

As she read the letter, though, it became apparent to her exactly why this was. Although not exactly the same as the one her brother had received six years earlier, it quickly became apparent that this was a Hogwarts letter. For her. For Miss E. Babbit.

Hands shaking, she set the letter down on her desk and sat on the edge of her bed. She smoothed her hands over her skirt over and over, taking comfort in the familiar softness as she tried to even her breathing.

How was this possible? She had all but accepted the fact that she was a squib. The shame of her family, a dirty secret to be hidden away and never talked about or mentioned again. Her parents had suspected as much by the time she had turned seven without any signs of magic whatsoever manifesting around her - not even a basic transformation of brussel sprouts to sweets during dinner. It was ultimately confirmed, however, when her own Hogwarts acceptance letter never arrived. She had spent the whole year before her banishment daydreaming about her life at Hogwarts, still optimistic that there could be something magical inside of her. Her brother, Leo, came home every holiday with wonderful stories of his new friends and teachers, and the subjects he was learning at school. Even back then, at twelve years old, Eloise hadn’t been sure if he was actually hopeful she wasn’t a squib, or if he had been trying to prolong the fantasy for her before it all came crashing down.

Although she had had five years to come to terms with her new life, there was still a small part of her that hoped. A small “what if…”. She had tried time and time again to squash that tiny ray of optimism that would escape every so often, tried so very hard to cultivate a hard exterior that wouldn’t let any sort of vulnerability shine through. And that optimism was a vulnerability, after all. It was that vulnerability that had made it absolutely impossible for her to fit in the muggle world, and made it so that she didn’t really want to try.

Five years to come to terms with the fact that she needed a new purpose for her life and…

…not anymore?

Eloise grabbed the letter and greedily read through it again, drinking in all of the words. She paused at the end, thinking. Was this a forgery? Some sort of awful joke orchestrated by her brother? Leo had never been cruel to her in the past; in fact, he was the one who always encouraged her and was the most probable source of the small optimism that remained within her. However, she had no way of knowing how he had changed since she had last seen him. It had been, after all, five very long years. And not once had she heard from him, even though he had promised her through huge sobbing gulps that he would never abandon her. Maybe their parents had slowly poisoned him against her. It would be right on the nose for them, after all.

Looking at the envelope again, however…Third Bedroom on the Left…no. It was too specific. Nobody in her previous life had any reason to even want to contact her again, and nobody in her current life even knew what Hogwarts was, let alone have the ability to convincingly forge a letter just to have some fun at her expense.

A light, bubbly feeling began to spread throughout her body as it sunk in that this was real. She was going to Hogwarts. Soon, a - squinting at the letter again - a Professor Fig would be contacting her and giving her things to study. A huge grin slowly spread across her face and she hugged the letter to her chest as she fell back on her bed. She read through it again. Was it the fifth time already? It felt as though no amount of times rereading the letter would ever be enough.

Eloise got up and walked over to look at the calendar on her desk. She was surprised to see that September 1st was in only two days. The days at the finishing school moved in such a strange, sluggish way. They all felt the same. Monotonous. French and Latin and embroidery and household management and Merlin even knows what else all blending into each other in an endless parade of dusty classrooms and gossip and boredom.

The light feeling left her in an instant as, after years of practice, the optimism was squashed back down. But how will you even get to London? And, her brain added sneakily, you haven’t even shown any signs of magic. Maybe you’ll just be returned back here after they realize their mistake.

No, she thought fiercely, gripping the letter. Until -

A tapping came from the window. A tentative smile returned at the sight of a tawny brown owl with another envelope in its beak. She ripped it open as soon as it was in her hands (again addressed to Miss E. Babbit) and along with the letter a small, purple pouch fell out of the envelope and onto her bed.

Miss Eloise Babbit,

I am pleased to be the wizard charged with such an important task as escorting you to Hogwarts in two days’ time. It is something extraordinary to be accepted in your fifth-year, and as such, I expect extraordinary things from you. I have enclosed a small pouch along with this envelope, and in it are some items that will be vital to you in the upcoming days. I have included books for you to study at your leisure, and a small gobstone that will bring you to our rendezvous point in London. All you have to do is touch it at noon on the 1st and you will be transported instantly.

Your family has not been informed of your acceptance. I am sure you understand why - at this, Eloise scoffed quietly to herself - which is why I will personally be your escort.

I am looking forward to meeting you and bringing you to the sorting ceremony in two days’ time.

Yours,

Eleazar Fig

The handwriting was tiny and spidery and cramped, but it didn’t stop Eloise from reading it with the same vigor as the previous letter and as many times. Finally, she turned to the small pouch that had fallen onto her bed when she opened the second envelope. It must have had an invisible extension charm, because it was filled to the brim with books on basic spellwork and general wizarding history. Professor Fig had no way of knowing, but Eloise had already read many of these books and many more during the year her brother had started Hogwarts, as she had needed to know absolutely everything about what would be awaiting her. A few years may have passed since she had stepped foot in her family’s library, but she couldn’t get the books or their contents out of her brain even if she had wanted to. She had really wanted to forget everything she knew about the magical world when it was confirmed she was a squib but it was a futile effort. As she zoned out during her piano lessons, she would find herself mentally going through the movements to cast different charms.

It was painful to be thinking about things from the life that had been ripped away from her, to know that what she was thinking about would never come to pass, that she would never be able to wield magic - and yet she couldn’t find herself able to stop.

As Eloise picked out one of the books and settled into her armchair, a steely resolve overcame her.

She would prove that she deserved to be there, and was just as capable as any of they were. She would make her parents regret ever discarding her like she was nothing.

She was worthy. She was capable. And she would prove it.

The morning of September 1st dawned cold and rainy. Absolutely perfect.

Eloise had pretended to be sick the night before, and no one had suspected a thing when she stayed in bed long after all of the other girls had gotten ready and headed to breakfast. As the last of the chattering faded away down the hallway, Eloise finally got out of bed and prepared herself for the day. It was difficult to sit still long enough to braid her hair. Her fingers wouldn’t stop trembling and she had to restart countless times. Finally, she tied the black ribbon at the end into a neat bow and turned to the drawer of her desk to retrieve the small purple pouch she had hidden away.

Everything she deemed important enough to come along with her had already been placed inside: the books from Professor Fig, the hair ribbons gifted to her by her brother many years ago, and some clothing. Nothing else was coming with. She needed the fresh start. Besides, anything else she might need would be supplied, as her acceptance letter had specifically stated that any school supplies would be provided to her.

Waiting the hours before noon came along proved to be more difficult than Eloise had imagined. Time seemed to be moving slower than the molasses that had come with the breakfast sent up to her, the steady patter of the rain becoming a sort of metronome keeping time as she paced back and forth. Wasn’t there anything that could distract her, even for a bit? She glanced at the clock. Only five minutes had passed since the last time. 10.35.

The second hand ticking away in tandem with the sound of rain splashing against her window.

What if this was all a trick? What if she arrived at Hogwarts, and they turned her away because they realized they had made a mistake? After all, why would they admit a sixteen-year-old? Surely she was too old; every other student had started Hogwarts at the age of twelve and had shown signs of magic much earlier than that. She still hadn’t shown any signs of magical capability whatsoever, and didn’t feel any different than she had before receiving the letter. It had to be a fluke.

As her thoughts started veering into the melancholy she was prone to, she shook her head. No. Today was a happy, exciting day. She wasn’t going to squash the optimism down today, not when she needed it most. All of these thoughts she was having were simply that: thoughts. Not reality. Hogwarts never made a mistake, and in all of the history books she had read, she couldn’t recall an instance of someone being turned away at the door. Granted, she had also never heard of someone being admitted so late. But, better to focus on what she did know, which was that she had gotten the letter. It must be right in its assumption that she had magic.

Trying to pass the time was easier said than done. She ended up quizzing herself on all of the charms she had memorized in the books sent by Professor Fig, moving an imaginary wand in the precise movements needed to successfully cast and focusing on her pronunciation. She had studied all of these forms late into both nights she had had the books, and when she would eventually close her eyes to sleep, the wand movements were all she saw.

Eloise was determined that she would receive pity from nobody. Nobody was going to look at her like she was lacking. She had gotten enough of that to last a lifetime, and now that she was given this opportunity she wasn’t about to waste it.

When noon finally struck, Eloise was ready and waiting. She eagerly grabbed the gobstone that was sitting on her desk and felt the familiar tugging sensation in her navel as she was whisked away to London and the beginning of her new life.

next chapter

#im just writing this fic for fun & since I’m editing it a bit #I thought it would be fun to challenge myself to do full illustrations for each chapter #(the reason I started these fanarts in the first place was for this🧍‍♀️)#if you actually read this I would love to know what you think!!#I keep going back & forth between wanting to make a master list and also explain my tag system on this tumblr #but at the same time I like the chaos…🤔#well let me know!! or if you have any suggestions!!💓😙#it starts off a bit slow but this story is VERY canon-divergent #and will have a lot of mythology/magical theory/pureblood society etc etc #i dont expect these to really get much traction bahahahahahaha #but im going to have a lot of fun rereading my fic & making these illustrations🥹💓#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanart #hphl #hogwarts legacy oc #hogwarts legacy mc #eloise babbit #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fic #oh also???? how do you format these things??????????????? anyways the chapter is up on ao3 and honestly the whole fic up to chapter 22😆😆#but if you have any suggestions lmk!!!!#like do I put the warnings for the whole fic on each chapter?? put only the chapter warnings??? literally this is me: 🧍‍♀️#a poor confused technology grandma

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