#This fic has been going on for the past 6 years I need to end it!

[monzabee]

run for the hills – lh44 (+18)

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where fate decides to bring you back into Lewis’ life, making him question his belief in fate.  

Pairing: lewis hamilton x rosberg!reader

Word Count: 9.3k 

Warnings: cursing, crying, drinking and mentions of alcohol, mentions of brocedes (rip), kissing, unprotected sex (you shouldn’t be surprised at this point), oral (m receiving), hand kink, praise kink, minors dni!!

Request: “hey, Merry Christmas 🫶🏽 I was hoping I could request a Lewis smut fic where the reader is Nico Rosberg's sister (with a age gap of around 6-8 years with him and Lewis) and before 2016 they were just really close friends who just kissed once but chose to pretend it didn't happen. after years, they run into each other at a club or a party and they're pretty snappy at each other but there's a lot of tension too and they end up having sex where Lewis is really cocky and also the reader has a hand kink and praise kink? I'm so sorry if I made it too long, i love your writing <33” + “oooo please could i request something w lewis?! something gut wrenchingly angsty? sorry i don’t really have a plot in mind hhhh thank you heheh”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! HAPPY NEW YEAR, i started this fic last week and i honestly didn't think I'd finish it this quickly but here we are. don't let my words fool you, i got the request last christmas but if you know me then you know that i am not quick when it comes to working on requests (i'm working on this i promise), not that this fic is even remotely christmassy, but let’s just appreciate that it is supposed to be set during the holiday period lol. this was supposed to be a shorter one but here we are, lol, i'm not even surprised at my inability to keep things short at this point. i posted this fic and realised i forgot to copy and paste a big chunk of it so oh well. as always, feedback is appreciated, and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee 

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Lewis decided he doesn’t like cold a long time ago. That’s why, being the ever-decisive person he is, he chooses to spend his winter vacationing in places like the Maldives or Bali. His decisiveness is an important part of him, given what he does for a living. When he is on the track, in his car, there is no room for hesitation – he needs to be able to make split-second decisions under intense pressure, what’s not to love about that? So, once he decided he’d rather spend his time off basking in the sun rather than freezing to death somewhere else, he never looked back. He enjoys spending his time off in someplace tropical with his family, or without his family; most of the times away from the prying eyes and camera lenses of the media. 

But this time, it’s different – he's alone. 

Or rather, he thought he would be alone. The villa he rented out for the duration of the month is isolated, just how he likes it. He wakes up to the sound of waves crashing against the shore right outside his windows, and the distant chirping of tropical birds to accompany him as he lounges on the large deck, overlooking the infinite expanse of blue. There are no spectators around to gauge his reaction, try to get him to speak out about his plans for the next year when he moves to Ferrari, or what he’s going to do when he eventually retires one day. He hasn’t seen anyone from the racing world for weeks, and it’s been a much-needed break. He’d usually love to spend Christmas with his family, the only time he would ever tolerate the cold being when he is with his family, but this year he just wanted to get away on his own. 

There is no one around that expect anything from him. Just peace. 

He’s not a hermit, of course, but he enjoys spending his time by himself mostly isolated from all the other guests of the touristic area he’s staying in. The chef that works at the villa is on call for when Lewis decides that he wants to stay in for the night, the housekeeping staff come every morning to clean up around the house, then promptly leave, providing Lewis with the privacy he so desperately needs. But other than that, and a few nights spent outside in a restaurant or a club? He is all alone, and he is not complaining about it. Another thing about Lewis Hamilton is that he doesn’t believe in fate. He believes in setting and achieving goals; after all, that’s what he’s done all his life. His success isn’t some cosmic coincidence. It’s years of sacrifice by his parents, relentless effort, and unwavering determination. So, when things happen that feel serendipitous, like running into someone from his past, he doesn’t chalk it up to destiny. He chalks it up to the sheer unpredictability of life. 

And yet, as he steps out of the villa to head to a nearby beach club after dinner, he doesn’t expect to run into you, especially not after how the things ended last time, but there you are. His eyes find you at the bar with some guy next to you – he has to do a double take. Just to make sure, he tells himself. But no matter how many times his attention reverts to you, he knows it’s you. Of course, it’s you. Though he’s not a believer in fate or destiny, or whatever you might want to call it, there you are – dressed in a flowy linen dress. His first instinct is to ask the server to seat him somewhere else so that he wouldn’t have stare at you and your ‘date’ for the night. His grip on the glass in his hand tightens momentarily, and he exhales slowly, forcing himself to look away. This is not the moment, he tells himself. It’s not his business, not anymore. But still, his gaze drifts back to you. You’re laughing at something the guy says, your head tilted slightly as you sip from your drink. He can’t hear your laughter, no – but what a sound that would be to hear, he thinks for a moment. 

He knows he shouldn’t care who you’re with or what you’re doing; it’s been years since the two of you shared anything beyond... well anything, really. But something about seeing you here, in this place he thought was his private retreat from the world, feels like a twist of fate – or the kind of cosmic joke he claims not to believe in. But his eyes watch you as you throw you head back in a laugh and he can practically hear the sound in his head, his mind taking him to years ago when he used to be one of the people who got to hear it first hand; when he joined your family on karting days, or when you celebrated with him when he won a race, or even back to that one time when him and Nico were trying to drive those unicycles and you kept doubling over in laughter when they fell down – something your brother did not appreciate, but Lewis couldn’t help the smile that crept on his face as he watched you from the ground.  

Somethings never change, he thinks, as he notices the smallest of smiles that has crept its way onto his face, quickly disappearing the moment he catches himself. He knows it shouldn’t matter to him – let alone bother him. But old habits die hard, and the sight of your smile, that easy laugh, stirs something in him that feels like both longing and a pang of annoyance. You’ve always had a way of getting under his skin. Back then, it was teasing remarks that somehow felt more genuine than any praise he received elsewhere. He catches himself glancing your way again, his jaw tightening when the guy beside you leans in a little too close. It’s irrational, this surge of jealousy that claws at his chest. He knows he has no right to feel this way, but that doesn’t stop it from burning through him. He looks down at his drink, willing himself to focus on anything but you. But memories have a way of sneaking up on him, unbidden. The days spent at karting tracks, the shared dinners with your family, the quiet moments when it was just the two of you, talking about everything and nothing at all. Back then, it was easy. Natural. Like you were two pieces of a puzzle that fit together perfectly, until you didn’t. 

Just then, you glance over, your eyes scanning the room before they land on him. For a moment, everything stills. The laughter fades from your face, replaced by something unreadable. Surprise, maybe. Or recognition. His breath catches in his throat, and he curses himself for the way his chest tightens under your gaze. He watches as you excuse yourself, heading towards the restrooms, and he swears he has never gotten up so fast and walked so fast in his life. He doesn’t think, he just moves until he spots you in the hallway, queued behind some people waiting for the bathroom line. What kind of a club only has one bathroom? He thinks, but that’s not the point. 

He clears his throat. 

You turn, eyes widening in that familiar, guarded way. “Lewis.” Your lips open in shock as you glance behind him and then focus on him again, “Did- did you follow me here?”  

“Were you on a date with that guy?” The words come out of his mouth before he can stop himself, his voice colder than he expects. 

You blink, taken aback by the question. “Excuse me?” 

He stands there, regretting the words as soon as they leave his mouth, but that doesn’t stop the irritation from creeping up his spine. His gaze flickers to the bar behind him, where the guy you were with is still talking to the bartender, oblivious to what’s going on. “I asked if you were on a date,” he repeats, a little sharper this time as he emphasises the last word. 

You raise an eyebrow, the surprise on your face melting into something more guarded, a mix of disbelief and annoyance. “What if I was?” You cross your arms, your eyes narrowing. “Maybe I’m just out enjoying my night. Ever think of that?” 

He feels a rush of heat in his chest. “It’s not like I care,” he mutters, though it’s clear from the edge in his voice that he does. “Just curious.” 

You scoff, your lips curling into a sarcastic smile. “Sure, Lewis.” 

“So?” He inquires, “Are you? On a date with that guy, I mean.” 

You raise an eyebrow, clearly not amused. “Are you serious right now?” you snap, your arms tightening across your chest. “You’re standing here, in the middle of a hallway, asking me about my love life? What is this, high school?” 

Lewis feels the heat rise in his neck, irritation mixing with a sense of frustration he doesn’t quite understand. “I’m not asking for your life story, just... just an answer. Is it that hard?” His voice is tight, but he doesn’t back down. 

You scoff again, your lips curling into something between a smirk and a sneer. “You really think you can just waltz back in and start demanding answers like we’re still... You know what? Yes, Lewis, I’m on a date.” You throw a glance over your shoulder at the guy still sitting at the bar. “We met on the beach at the hotel I’m staying at, and I thought I’d let him treat me to a dinner and a couple of drinks before I’d let him fuck me six ways to Sunday.” You roll your eyes at someone on the queue gasping at your choice of words. “Not that it’s any of your business. Are you happy now?” 

Lewis’s hand grips your wrist, a little too tight, and without warning, he’s tugging you away from the bar, his jaw clenched. “Come on,” he mutters, his tone low and urgent, as he steers you towards the back exit. You’re caught off guard, stumbling to keep up with his forceful pace, your heart hammering in your chest. 

“What the hell, Lewis? Let go of me!” you snap, yanking your arm free once you're outside in the chill night air. The chill hits you like a slap, the heat of the club’s atmosphere fading behind you as the door slams shut. 

“Seriously?” he spits, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and frustration. “You’re gonna play it like that?” 

You take a step back, crossing your arms over your chest. “I don’t know what game you're playing at, but I’m not interested. What the hell was that back there? Dragging me out like I’m some kind of... of property?” 

He glares at you, his fists clenched at his sides. “You’re unbelievable.” His voice rises, sharp and cutting. “I ask you a simple question, and you throw that crap at me? What the hell did you think I was supposed to do? Just stand there and pretend like I didn’t care?” 

You laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “Pretend like you don’t care? That’s rich coming from you. You don’t get to just waltz in, after all this time, and act like you can demand answers, Lewis. Like you have any right to know what’s going on in my life.” 

“Your brother would be so disappointed in you right now.” His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, the air between you two freezes. The breeze picks up, but the sudden silence makes the world feel too loud.  

“You don’t get to talk about my brother,” you seethe, as Lewis's face hardens, his jaw tensing, but it’s the look in his eyes that hits hardest — it’s a mixture of hurt and fury, both so raw, you almost feel sorry for what you’ve just unleashed. 

“What did you just say?” His voice is low, almost dangerously so, the words slipping through clenched teeth. 

You swallow, but it doesn’t help the sharp edge in your voice. “You heard me. You don’t get to talk about him, you don’t get to fuck up my life and you don’t get to come back here acting like you still have any claim on me or my life.” You’re breathing heavily now, the anger and hurt mixing into a bitter cocktail that you can’t quite swallow – funnily enough, Lewis can smell the cocktail you had earlier. “You left. You made your choice, Lewis. And now you don’t get to barge back in and pretend like I owe you anything.” 

Lewis stands in front of you, his chest rising and falling with each breath. His eyes are dark, his jaw tight as he processes your words. He doesn’t know when the two of you got closer together, he can practically feel the anger radiating off you, “You think I don’t know that?” he spits, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “You think I don’t know what I did?” His voice cracks slightly, the vulnerability slipping out before he can stop it. “I fucked up, alright? I fucked up more than you’ll ever understand. We all did – me, Nico, you.” 

“You don’t get to make me feel guilty about this, Lewis. You don’t get to act like I’m the one who fucked everything up.” Your voice shakes, but you keep going, the words coming faster, more bitter. “You kissed me and called it an ‘accident’, a fluke. You fought with Nico every chance you got. I had to pick up the pieces on my own.” 

Lewis flinches at your words, but his anger doesn’t dissipate—if anything, it only sharpens. His hands remain balled into fists at his sides, but there’s something else behind his eyes now, something raw, something almost desperate. “We wouldn’t have worked out,” he mutters, it’s something that he said to himself time and time again to convince himself of it, “I am– was your brother’s friend, you–” 

“You were my friend, too!” You exclaim, your hands swatting at his arms, chest – anywhere you can reach. “You left me, as if I meant nothing to you! You stole my first kiss and shattered my life to pieces on the same day!” You manage to get in some good hits despite Lewis’ attempts to calm you down, and the lump in your throat makes it harder for you to continue talking, “Do you know how many times I wondered if you kissed me just to piss Nico off? Do you know how that feels?” 

“What?” He asks, his voice low. Each hit, each accusation, it stings. But nothing hits harder than the raw emotion in your eyes – hurt, betrayal, and the weight of everything he left behind. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words catch in his throat. “You think I kissed you to get at Nico?” he says finally, his voice quieter now but no less intense. There’s an edge of disbelief, of hurt, as if the idea itself cuts deeper than your accusations. “Do you really think so little of me?” 

You cross your arms tightly over your chest, holding yourself together in the face of his raw honesty. “I don’t know what to think, Lewis. What was I supposed to think back then? You shut me out. You made me feel like it never happened – like I never happened.” 

“You were twenty-three years old,” he points out, “our age difference–” 

“Oh please,” you scoff, pushing at his chest one last time, “you’ve fucked girls younger than that.” 

Lewis flinches at your words, as if they’ve struck a nerve he didn’t even know was exposed. His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he doesn’t say anything. “You don’t get to throw that in my face,” he finally says, his voice low and clipped, tinged with a kind of frustration that feels different from before. 

“Why?” You ask, head cocked to the side. “I can’t comment on you fucking other people, but you can question my actions because I want to fuck–” 

“Say ‘fuck’ one more time and I swear I’ll–” 

“—what, Lewis?” you snap, cutting him off before he can finish his threat. “You’ll what? Walk away again? Pretend this conversation never happened, just like you did last time?” 

His jaw clenches, the muscles in his face tightening as he tries to rein in his emotions. “Don’t push me,” he warns, his voice low and taut, but there’s no real menace in it—only desperation. 

“Oh, I’m pushing?” You laugh bitterly, throwing your hands up. “I’m the one pushing? You’re the one who showed up here, dredging up every memory I’ve spent years trying to bury. Don’t you dare put this on me, Lewis.” 

“You think this is easy for me?” he shoots back, his voice rising. “You think I don’t hate myself for what I did? For what I didn’t do? I’ve lived with this every single day, and you—” 

“Fuck you!” you shout, stepping closer, your finger jabbing into his chest. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck–” 

His hands shoot up, grabbing your wrists – not harshly, but firmly enough to stop your movements. You don’t even fully register how quickly he pushes you against the wall, “You think I ran off and lived some perfect life?” he hisses, his face inches from yours as he inhales deeply. “You think I didn’t miss you every goddamn day? You think I didn’t lie awake at night, wishing I’d had the guts to ask you to stay?” 

His words hit you like a tidal wave, the rawness in his voice leaving you momentarily speechless. For a moment, the anger in his eyes softens, replaced by something else – something that feels far too close to the hope you’ve been trying to suppress. “Well... yeah.” You inwardly cringe how your voice sounds so weak, but Lewis tilts your chin back to make you look at him.  

“Is that so?” He mumbles, thumb caressing your chin as his eyes hungrily take in how your chest moves with each deep breath your inhale and exhale.  

Your breath hitches as his thumb lingers, his gaze dropping to your lips like he’s fighting every instinct to close the distance between you. “Lewis...” you start, but his name comes out softer than you intend, more of a plea than the warning you meant it to be. 

“What?” he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous, but there’s a softness to it, an undercurrent of vulnerability that sends your heart racing. “What do you want me to do, huh? Walk away again? Because I can’t. Not this time.” 

You shake your head slightly, but his grip on your chin keeps you from fully looking away. “I don’t know what I want,” you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “I don’t even know how to feel about you anymore.” 

His eyes darken, and his jaw tightens, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he leans in, his forehead almost brushing yours. “Then let me remind you,” he says, his voice a low rasp. 

Your pulse quickens, every nerve in your body screaming at you to push him away – or pull him closer and he tension between you is suffocating. “Don’t,” you whisper, but your voice wavers, betraying the battle waging inside you. 

“Don’t what?” he asks, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours. “Don’t do this?” You don’t answer, your throat too tight, your mind too clouded with memories, anger, and something else you’re not ready to name. He waits, his breath mingling with yours, his patience stretching thin. “Say the word,” he whispers, his voice rough with restraint. “Tell me to stop, and I will. I will let you go back and take him back to your room and do whatever you want.” 

But you don’t say it. You can’t. Because as much as you hate him, as much as you want to scream at him, cry, and push him away... you also want this. Want him. 

And Lewis knows it. 

His hand releases your wrist, sliding down to your waist as his other hand stays on your chin, tilting your face toward him. The kiss that follows isn’t soft, isn’t sweet – it’s desperate, raw, and filled with years of unspoken words. It’s anger and longing, heartbreak, and desire, all crashing together in a way that steals your breath and sends your heart into overdrive. A softer kiss might have been what you wanted, but Lewis knows this is what you need. His body presses against yours, and your hands instinctively find his shoulders, clinging to him as if letting go would leave you falling apart. His lips are warm and insistent, the taste of him intoxicating. Every move, every touch, feels like he’s trying to make up for everything he never said, everything he left behind. 

The kiss deepens, each second unravelling more of the carefully constructed armour you’ve built around your heart. His fingers grip your waist tighter, grounding you even as everything else feels like it’s spinning. You can feel the heat radiating off him with every press of his body against yours. Your mind screams at you to stop, to think, to pull away before you lose yourself completely – but your body betrays you. The years of hurt, anger, and confusion dissolve into the fire burning between you, ignited by a kiss that’s as much a battle as it is a surrender. 

Lewis pulls back just enough to let you breathe, his lips still hovering close, his forehead resting against yours. His breath is hot against your skin, his voice low and rough when he finally speaks. “You still want to go back and fuck your little lover boy?”  

“Who?” You mumble, breathless as a result of the kiss as your eyes become heavy with something you can’t quite describe. 

Lewis smirks, a glint of triumph flashing in his dark eyes. "Exactly," he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your waist in slow, deliberate circles. His confidence is maddening, but the heat between you makes it impossible to summon the indignation you’d usually feel. 

You try to muster a response, something sharp and cutting to put him back in his place, but the way his gaze drops to your lips again makes the words dissolve before they even form. “Don’t do that,” you manage, though your voice lacks the conviction you intended. 

“Do what?” he asks innocently, though the rasp in his tone betrays his intent. 

“Act like this changes everything.” 

His smirk falters, replaced by a seriousness that roots you in place. “It doesn’t change everything,” he admits, his voice quieter now, almost tender. “But it changes something. Doesn’t it?” 

Your heart pounds against your ribs as his words sink in. You hate how easily he disarms you, how effortlessly he pulls you back into his orbit no matter how much you’ve tried to escape it. But deep down, you know he’s right. “I hate you,” you whisper, though even you can hear the weakness in your words. 

“I know,” he replies, his hand moving to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing your skin like he’s memorizing every inch of you. “And I hate myself for making you feel that way.” 

The sincerity in his voice cuts through the haze, making your chest tighten. But before you can think about it, you find yourself tugging on the collar of his unbuttoned shirt, pulling him closer to yourself as you mumble, “Kiss me again.” 

Your hands, which moments ago were pushing him away, now find their way into his hair, pulling him closer, as if to anchor yourself in the storm he’s unleashed within you. Lewis doesn’t hold back. His grip tightens on your waist, pulling you flush against him, the wall at your back the only thing keeping you steady. The kiss deepens, his lips moving against yours with an intensity that borders on desperation, as though he’s afraid this moment might slip through his fingers if he doesn’t hold on tight enough. When the need for air becomes undeniable, he pulls back just enough to look at you, his forehead resting against yours. Both of you are breathing heavily, the space between you charged with everything unsaid. “Tell me you didn’t feel that,” he says, his voice hoarse, his thumb brushing against your cheek. 

You can’t answer right away, your heart hammering so loudly in your chest it drowns out any coherent thought. But eventually, you manage to find your voice. “I hate you,” you whisper, but there’s no conviction behind the words. They sound hollow, even to your own ears. 

He lets out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “No, you don’t.” 

“Don’t tell me how I feel,” you snap, but the edge in your voice falters. 

“I’m not,” he murmurs, his gaze unwavering. “I’m telling you what I see. And I see you... still here. Still looking at me like that.” His hand trails down to your hip, his touch light but grounding. “If you hated me, you would’ve walked away by now.” 

You close your eyes, willing yourself to regain some semblance of control, but it’s impossible with him standing this close, his presence overwhelming. “This doesn’t change anything,” you say, though it feels more like you’re trying to convince yourself than him. 

“Maybe not,” he concedes, his voice softer now. “But it’s a start.” You don’t say anything to agree or refute his statement, and after a brief pause, he straightens, fixies your dress and tries to fix your hair as well. “Come on,” he says, “I’ll take you back.” 

“But, my bag,” you mutter, pushing out your lower lip in a pout when you realise your bag is on the floor. Lewis has to restrain himself when he sees your lips all puffed up because of him. Your voice is whiny, and he realises you’re slurring your words a little bit when you tug on his shirt, “I don’t wanna leave my bag here.” 

Lewis looks at you for a moment, his expression softening as he reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing against your skin with the same tenderness he’s shown all night despite all your fighting. With a soft exhale, Lewis bends down to pick up your bag, holding it out to you with the same quiet care. “Don’t make that face,” he murmurs, his voice teasing but laced with something tender. “You really wanna go back to that room, after everything that just happened?” 

You look at him, a mix of confusion and desire swirling inside you. “I don’t know what I want,” you admit, the honesty slipping out before you can stop it. The words feel raw, vulnerable, but there’s something about his presence, the way he’s here, still so close, that makes you feel safe enough to say it. 

Lewis doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, his eyes soften, his thumb grazing the strap of your bag as he watches you closely, as though he’s searching for something in your expression. Finally, he steps closer again, the space between you narrowing once more. “I get it,” he says quietly. “But I’m not letting you go home alone tonight.” 

The words send a shiver down your spine. You want to protest, to push him away, but there’s something in his gaze, the way he’s looking at you now, that makes you second-guess everything you thought you wanted. You hesitate for a moment longer, the weight of your thoughts heavy in the air, but the pull between you is undeniable. It’s the kind of pull that’s magnetic, that doesn’t let you escape even when you try to resist. 

Finally, you nod, the decision feeling both like a surrender and a choice you can’t take back. “Okay,” you murmur, your voice barely audible. “Take me back, then.” 

You don’t even remember getting into his car, but you do remember the smug look he shot at your date – Carl, you think – when he helped you through the club with a firm hand on your back. The villa Lewis rented for his little getaway is entirely what you expect it to be – modern, grand, and secluded enough so no one uninvited would know he is there and bother him. The couch in the living room looks way too inviting and you make a mental note to avoid it for now. Sitting on it might make this whole situation feel too real, too comfortable, and you’re not ready for that. You glance around the space instead, taking in the clean lines of the modern furniture, the polished wood floors, and the sprawling windows that offer an unobstructed view of the moonlit ocean. You walk towards the windows, eyes taking in the view from inside the villa. The ocean stretches out endlessly before you, its surface shimmering under the moonlight. The soft sound of the waves crashing against the shore is faintly audible even through the glass, a gentle hum that seems to echo the turmoil in your chest. 

You wrap your arms around yourself, partly to steady your nerves and partly to shield yourself from the vulnerability creeping up on you. The view is breathtaking, but it does little to quiet the storm of emotions swirling inside you. You faintly hear Lewis calling out your name, but as if you are in a trance, you can’t take your eyes off the view in front of you. His voice calls out to you again, softer this time, closer. “Hey,” he says, and you feel the warmth of his presence before you even see him. Lewis’s reflection appears in the glass, his dark eyes fixed on you as he stands just behind you. 

You finally tear your gaze away from the ocean and turn to face him, your arms still wrapped protectively around yourself. “It’s beautiful,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking louder might shatter the fragile moment. 

Lewis nods, his expression unreadable as he follows your gaze back to the window. “It is,” he agrees, but there’s a weight to his tone, as if he’s not just talking about the view. His eyes flicker back to you, searching your face. “But it doesn’t seem like it’s helping much.” 

You let out a shaky laugh, more to fill the silence than anything else. “It’s not that simple, Lewis.” 

“Nothing ever is,” he replies, stepping closer until there’s only a breath of space between you. “But I’m here. You don’t have to deal with whatever this is alone.” 

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten, and for a moment, you let yourself lean into it. “I don’t know what to do with you,” you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “With... us.” 

He exhales deeply, his hand lifting as though he wants to touch you but hesitates. “You don’t have to figure that out right now,” he says, his voice steady. “I just want to make sure you’re okay tonight. That’s all that matters to me.” 

Something about his words, his presence, eases the knot in your chest, if only slightly. “I don’t even know where to start,” you murmur, more to yourself than him. 

“Then don’t,” he says simply, his voice carrying a quiet reassurance. “Just be here. With me.” 

You look up at him, your eyes searching his face for any sign of pretense or ulterior motives, but all you see is the same man who’s managed to undo you with a single glance. “Show me your room.”  

“We don’t have to do that.” His eyebrows furrow as he reaches for your cheek, “That not why I brought you here.” 

“Isn’t it?” You try to joke, but his deep sigh is a sign of his disapproval. “I know that’s not why you brought me here, but it can be one of the reasons you brought me here.” 

“Can it?” He drawls, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.  

“For God’s sake, Lewis.” You sigh, turning your body towards the man standing next to you. “Do I need to beg you for you to fuck me?”  

Lewis’s smirk falters, his expression shifting into something deeper, darker, but undeniably tender. “Don’t,” he murmurs, his voice low and edged with restraint as he steps closer. His hand comes up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “You don’t need to beg me for anything. Not now, not ever.” 

The intensity in his gaze makes your breath catch, and for a moment, the air between you feels electric. “Then fuck me,” you whisper, your voice trembling with equal parts frustration and desire. “If you want me, show me.” 

He closes his eyes briefly, like he’s steadying himself, and when he opens them again, the resolve in his expression takes your breath away. “You think I don’t want you?” he asks, his tone low but firm. “You don’t know how hard it is to hold back, to stop myself from–” He cuts himself off, his jaw tightening as if even admitting it is too much. He reaches for one of your hands, freeing from your hold and places it on his crotch. “See what you do to me?” 

The crude act manages to steal a gasp from you, your eyes widening at how hard he already is. “Lewis,” you mutter, he responds with an affirmative hum, “show me your bedroom.” 

He takes your hand, his grip firm but careful, and leads you down a sleek hallway. The sound of your heels clicking against the polished wood floor echoes softly, a counterpoint to the pounding of your heart. When he pushes open the door to his bedroom, you’re momentarily distracted by how much the space reflects him. The massive bed dominates the room, its crisp white sheets and plush pillows inviting. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in the silver glow of the moon, casting the room in a soft, ethereal light. The massive bed dominates the room, its crisp white sheets and plush pillows inviting. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in the silver glow of the moon, casting the room in a soft light.  

You walk towards the centre of the room, the corner of your lip trapped between your teeth as you glance at Lewis over your shoulder before you run towards the bed and throw yourself onto the soft bedding. Lewis watches you with an amused smirk as you sprawl across the bed, your carefree motion starkly contrasting the simmering tension in the air. “Comfortable, baby?” he asks, his tone teasing, but the heat in his eyes betrays his calm façade. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows, giving him a challenging look. “Very.” Then you narrow your eyes at him, “But don’t call me baby, I am not your baby.” 

He chuckles, low and throaty, as he steps closer, loosening the top button of his shirt with a deliberate slowness that sends a shiver down your spine. “No?” he muses, stopping at the edge of the bed. His eyes roam over you, drinking in every detail as if committing you to memory. 

Your breath hitches when he leans over, placing a hand on either side of your body, effectively caging you in. His face is so close to yours now that you can feel the warmth of his breath. “I like seeing you like this,” he admits, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Relaxed, it suits you.” 

A flush creeps up your neck at his words, but you refuse to let him have the upper hand completely. Your fingers trail up his chest, over the defined planes of his torso, and then slide beneath the open collar of his shirt. “I could say the same about you,” you reply, your voice soft but loaded with meaning. 

His response is immediate. His lips crash against yours with a fervour that steals your breath, his hands gripping your waist as he pulls you flush against him. The kiss is raw and consuming, years of tension and unspoken words pouring into the connection. When he pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing ragged, he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. 

You smile, your hands slipping down to the waistband of his pants. “Why don’t you show me?” 

He doesn’t need to be told twice. In one smooth motion, he lifts you, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist as he carries you to the centre of the bed. He chuckles at the sound of your giggling, as he carefully lays you back down on the soft bed. His fingers work diligently to get you out of your dress, pulling the linen garment over your head as Lewis lets his eyes hungrily take you in. When your dress finally falls away, leaving you in nothing but lace and skin, Lewis takes a slow breath, his eyes scanning over your body with a mixture of awe and hunger. “You’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice thick with admiration. His fingers trace the curve of your waist, his touch sending shivers of desire through your body. 

You arch slightly into his touch, your breath coming faster, and you meet his gaze with a challenge in your eyes. “Are you going to just gawk at me, or are you going to actually do something?” 

He smirks, a flash of cockiness in his eyes. “Patience,” he teases, but there’s no mistaking the hunger in his voice as he lowers himself over you. With one hand bracing himself above you, his other hand slides down between your bodies, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. His touch is slow, almost teasing, and you can’t help the soft moan that escapes your lips as his fingers inch closer to where you need him most. “You like this?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly, his lips just inches from yours. His fingers find the lace of your underwear, his touch deliberate as he pulls it aside and slips a finger inside you, making you gasp. “You’re fucking perfect,” he groans, his lips crashing against yours as he deepens the kiss, his finger working inside you with a slow, steady rhythm. You can feel the heat building between you, the tension in the room thickening with every passing second. 

“Don- don’t say ‘fuck’, Lewis,” you tease him with a small smirk as your breathing becomes deeper, “it’s unbecoming.” 

“You’ll see who will be coming in a few minutes, baby.” He chuckles at the way your expression changes at the mention of the word, his fingers moving in deeper as your let out a disapproving moan, “What? You don’t like it when I call you that?” 

With another dissenting hum and a raise of your hips to meet his hand, you let out a long exhale. “I’m not your baby Lewis, stop calling me that.” With the patience that only he can tolerate, he continues the leisurely movements of his fingers. “I want more, please.” 

Lewis tuts at your words softly, chuckling as he takes in your reactions. “I think you have a very important decision to make here,” he murmurs, his eyes suddenly painted with something more serious, “because once I fuck you, I’m not letting you go.”  

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” The words come out choppy as your breathing gets more erratic, his fingers stubbornly keeping to the slow rhythm he’s set.  

Lewis's gaze sharpens, the challenge in your tone sparking a flame in his dark eyes. “Oh, you’ll see it, alright,” he murmurs, his voice a velvety promise as his hand withdraws briefly, leaving you breathless and aching. Before you can protest, he moves with deliberate precision, tugging his shirt over his head and revealing the expanse of his chest – sculpted, strong, and utterly captivating. “Get on your hands and knees.” 

The command leaves no room for debate, his voice firm but laden with heat. Your heart skips a beat as you meet his gaze, a mixture of defiance and curiosity flickering in your expression. “Bold of you to assume I'll listen,” you quip, though the slight tremor in your voice betrays your anticipation. 

Lewis smirks, leaning down until his lips brush the shell of your ear. “Oh, you'll listen,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “Because you know exactly how patient I can be, but the same can’t be said for you.” 

A shiver runs through you at his words, and before you realize it, you’ve complied, shifting onto your hands and knees in the centre of the bed. You can practically feel his gaze on you, then all of a sudden, you can actually feel him behind you, the bed dipping slightly under his weight as he moves closer. “Good girl,” he says softly, his voice rich with approval, and the way your body reacts to the praise is almost embarrassing. “Oh, my beautiful darling.” His hands skim over your back, tracing the curve of your spine before settling on your hips. The grip is firm, possessive, sending a thrill through you.  

The sounds of him taking himself out of his trousers and pumping cock in his hand is pure debauchery, yet you find yourself pushing your hips back against his thighs. Lewis's low chuckle reverberates through you, a sound full of confidence and desire. His hand tightens on your hips, steadying you as he leans in, his chest brushing against your back. The heat of his skin against yours makes you arch into him instinctively, earning another throaty laugh from him. “You're eager,” he teases, his voice dark and dripping with amusement. “I like you like this.” 

You bite your lip to suppress the needy sound threatening to escape, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “Maybe you're just slow,” you retort breathlessly, glancing back at him over your shoulder, a challenging look in your eyes. 

Lewis growls low in his throat, his hands sliding across your back. “Careful,” he warns, though there's a glint of amusement in his dark eyes. “Push me too far, and I won't be nice.” Your breath catches at his words, but before you can form a response, you feel him guiding himself to your entrance, teasingly dragging against you. The deliberate slowness makes your frustration peak, and you push your hips back, a wordless plea for him to stop teasing. 

“Patience, darling,” he murmurs, his voice a husky promise. But even as he says it, he shifts forward, entering you with a deliberate motion that steals the breath from your lungs. 

The sensation is overwhelming, every nerve in your body alight as he holds still for a moment, letting you adjust. “Lewis,” you breathe, your voice shaky with need.  

His hands gently caress over the skin of your back and hips, soothing over the sharp feeling of Lewis easing himself into you in small movements of his hips. “You’re doing so well,” he shushes your whiny moans, his hands tracing your sides, grounding you. “You feel perfect, we’re almost there, darling.”  

“A-almost?” Your voice cuts his words off, voice shaky with need, “It’s not going to fit, Lewis, I can’t-” 

He leans over you, his lips pressing tender kisses along your spine, each one sending a ripple of warmth through you. His voice is a soothing murmur in your ear. “Relax for me, darling. Let me take care of you.” Your breathing steadies under his touch, the initial sting giving way to a fullness that leaves you breathless as he pushes himself fully into you. You arch your back slightly, pressing into him as his hands continue their gentle exploration of your body. The tenderness in his actions contrasts with the raw desire in his voice, creating a heady mix that leaves you yearning for more. “That's it,” he praises, his tone soft but laced with heat. “You’re incredible. See? We made it fit.” 

“I feel so full.” You manage to let out, voice whiny as the moan is ripped from the back of your throat. “It feels so good, Lewis.” 

He begins to move, a slow, steady rhythm that builds gradually, allowing you to feel every inch of him. The friction ignites a fire within you, and you can’t help the soft moans that escape your lips, each sound spurring him on. His grip on your hips tightens, his pace increasing as he finds the perfect rhythm, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. “You feel so good,” he groans, his voice low and thick with desire. His hand slides up your spine, tangling in your hair as he pulls you back slightly, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’re mine, you know that? Only mine.”  

The moan that comes from you is dissenting, causing Lewis to slide his hand down your throat to use the leverage to pull you up on your knees, pressed against his chest. “No,” you say, hands extending backwards to keep holding onto him in an attempt to keep up with the rhythm in which he is fucking you now. 

His words send a shiver down your spine, the possessiveness in his tone igniting something primal within you. “Say it,” he commands, his voice rough as his movements grow more urgent. “Say you're mine.” 

Your breaths are shallow, punctuated by soft whimpers as you cling to him, trying to keep pace with his movements. The way he pulls you against him, his hand firm on your throat, sends a jolt of heat through your core. His hand is firm around your throat, but not uncomfortable to the point that you can’t breathe. 

“I’m not yours,” you gasp defiantly, your voice trembling with every move he makes.  

Lewis growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your back as his hand tightens slightly around your neck—not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you in place. “We’ll see about that,” he says darkly. 

His hips snap against you harder now, his rhythm relentless as if determined to prove you wrong. The overwhelming sensation leaves you gasping, your fingers clutching at his forearm for balance. His free hand slides down your body, gripping your waist to hold you steady as he drives deeper, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. 

“Still not mine?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. His tone is equal parts teasing and commanding, daring you to resist him. “Still think someone else can fuck you better than I can?” You bite your lip, trying to stifle the moans spilling from you, but the way he moves, the way he claims you, has you crumbling. “Say it,” he repeats, his voice a low growl that echoes through your very core. 

Torn between defiance and surrender, you meet his challenge with a shaky breath. “I’m-” you begin, but he cuts you off with a particularly deep thrust that has you crying out his name instead. 

“Hmm?” Lewis chuckles darkly, clearly enjoying your struggle. His grip on your neck softens slightly as his fingers trace the column of your throat in a soothing gesture. “Come on, baby, just say it.” 

“I’m-” The word catches in your throat as he shifts slightly, the angle of his hips hitting a spot that sends a jolt of pleasure through you. A broken moan escapes your lips instead, and Lewis smirks against your ear, clearly revelling in your unravelling. 

“Say it,” he demands again, his voice low and demanding. His hand slides from your throat to your jaw, turning your face just enough that his lips can brush against the corner of your mouth. The gentleness of the gesture is at odds with the raw intensity of his movements, leaving you breathless. 

“I’m yours,” you finally gasp, the words tumbling out in a mix of desperation and surrender. 

Lewis freezes for a heartbeat, his chest heaving against your back as the admission settles between you. Then, with a triumphant growl, he resumes his pace, his grip on you tightening as if he intends to imprint himself into every fibber of your being. 

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. His lips trail along your shoulder, leaving a path of heat in their wake. “Say it again.” 

“Yours,” you whisper, the word coming easier this time, though the weight of it still sends a shiver through you. 

His rhythm grows more urgent, his body moving with a single-minded purpose as he pushes you both toward the edge. “Never forget it,” he groans, his voice rough and ragged, “now come for me.” You blame the singular cocktail you had three or so hours ago for your compliance to his words, as you feel the wave of pleasure crash over you, obliterating any coherent thought. Your body trembles uncontrollably in his arms, your cries of release echoing in the room as he whispers sweet words of praise in your ear.  

There are a million other things Lewis expects you to say, but you surprise him with a, “I wanna taste you.”  

Lewis's movements still, his breath catching at your unexpected words. He pulls back slightly, his dark eyes locking with yours, filled with surprise and a flicker of intrigue. A slow, mischievous grin spreads across his face. “Oh, is that so?” he murmurs, his voice tinged with amusement and undeniable heat. 

You nod, your cheeks flushing under his intense gaze, but there’s a spark of confidence in your eyes. “I really do,” you say softly, the tremble in your voice betraying both your boldness and your eagerness. 

He studies you for a moment longer, his expression shifting to one of reverence laced with desire. "Well," he says, his voice low and gravelly, "who am I to deny you, darling?" With a gentleness that contrasts the fervour of moments ago, Lewis guides you to sit up, his hands warm and steady as they support you. He shifts to the edge of the bed, leaning back slightly, giving you room and letting you take control. His gaze never leaves you, his dark eyes glinting with anticipation. You settle between his thighs, your hands skimming over his skin, marvelling at the way his muscles tense under your touch. There's a sense of power in the way his body responds to you, in the way his breathing hitches when your lips brush against him. You look up at him, meeting his gaze with a small smile before leaning in. The moment your mouth closes around him, Lewis groans low in his throat, his head falling back as his control begins to slip. His hands find their way to your hair, his touch gentle but firm as he guides you, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. “Just like that,” he praises, his voice rough with pleasure. “You’re perfect, baby.” 

The sound of his voice, the way he says your name like it’s the only thing that matters, spurs you on, and you lose yourself in the moment, intent on unravelling him the way he did you. Your lips move with deliberate intent, your tongue tracing teasing paths that have him groaning your name like a prayer. His fingers tighten in your hair, a gentle tug that makes you glance up at him through your lashes. The sight of him – head tilted back, his lips parted as he struggles for breath, sends a thrill through you. 

“God, you’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice ragged and filled with awe. His eyes find yours, and the intensity of his gaze makes your pulse quicken. “You have no idea what you do to me.” Encouraged by his reaction, you take him deeper, your hands gripping his thighs to steady yourself. The sound he makes is primal, his control slipping further as his hips jerk involuntarily. He tries to hold himself back, but you can tell he’s close to losing himself completely. “Baby,” Lewis rasps, his voice thick with need, “you keep that up, and I won’t last.” You hum around him in response, the vibration pulling another groan from his lips. His hand slips from your hair to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a tender contrast to the raw passion between you. “Look at me,” he whispers, his tone almost pleading. 

You meet his gaze, and the connection between you feels electric. His chest heaves as his breaths come in quick, shallow bursts, his control hanging by a thread. “I’m so close,” he warns, his voice a low growl. “Do you want me to stop?” The shake of your head is all the answer he needs. With a curse under his breath, he lets go, his body shuddering as he gives himself over to the waves of pleasure crashing through him. He holds your gaze the entire time, his grip on you tightening as if anchoring himself to the moment. 

When he calms down, he collapses back against the bed, his chest rising and falling with deep, uneven breaths. You sit back after swallowing, a triumphant smile playing on your lips as you take in the sight of him, utterly undone. “That was fun,” you rasp as you take in the sight in front of you. 

Lewis chuckles softly, the sound low and breathless, as he drapes an arm over his face, trying to regain his composure. “Fun?” he repeats, his voice laced with amusement and lingering satisfaction. He peeks at you from under his arm, his dark eyes glinting with a mixture of adoration and disbelief. “You’ve got no idea what you just did to me.” 

You tilt your head, feigning innocence as you crawl up the bed to lie beside him. “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea,” you tease, your voice light but with a hint of pride. 

He turns toward you, propping himself up on one elbow, his free hand reaching out to trace lazy circles along your arm. “You’re dangerous,” he murmurs, his tone soft yet filled with a reverence that makes your cheeks flush. “And I’m completely at your mercy.” 

You laugh, the sound light and genuine, as you nuzzle into his touch. “I think you like it that way,” you reply, your fingers grazing over his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your touch. 

“More than you know,” he admits, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to your temple. The tender gesture contrasts with the raw intensity you’d just shared, and it sends a warm flutter through your chest. 

For a moment, silence falls between you, the only sound the soft rustling of the sheets and the slowing rhythm of his breathing. Then Lewis shifts, his arm slipping around your waist to pull you closer. “You know,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your hair, “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.” 

The weight of his words settles over you, and you glance up at him, your heart skipping a beat at the sincerity in his gaze. “Good,” you whisper, a small smile tugging at your lips.  

He smiles back, a look of pure contentment spreading across his face as he tightens his hold on you. “That’s all I get?” 

“We’ll see how you feel after we get home,” you mumble as you run a finger along the curve of his jaw, “you might be bored of me by then.” 

“Home,” Lewis muses quietly, breaking the silence and ignoring your words. His voice is softer now, contemplative. “I like the sound of that.” 

You glance up at him, his face so close that you can see the faintest hint of vulnerability in his expression. It stirs something deep within you – a mix of tenderness and longing that takes you by surprise. 

“Yeah,” you murmur, leaning in to brush your lips against his. “Me too.” 

[a-gay-bloodmage]

Care to Join Us For Some Tea?

(Emmrich Volkarin & Sascha Ingellvar)

Rook is a very strange creature, always keeping to the shadows of the Lighthouse like a timid ghost. It isn't until Emmrich recalls a strange encounter, three decades past and in the depths of the Grand Necropolis, that he begins to understand what made Sascha Ingellvar into the man he is today.

Read Here!

[malachitezmeyka]

Pumped out another 1543 words for AIDIB in the last two hours or so, bringing the total word count of chapter 3 up to 4031 words so far. Baba's couch works wonders for my writing ability, apparently :)

[scalira]

What if I kill myself before finishing the final chapters of galaxies colliding hmm what then!

[misssilversunny]

Ok so I've been on a bit of a Yandere batfam binge tbh. One thing I saw was someone saying that there should be a yandere batfam that's too interested in Reader's life, as opposed to the multitude of neglected Readers.

I would like to build on that and say, a Spoiled!Reader. Maybe around grade school age for some of the story, the rest being them as an adult realizing that their family's "interest" in every aspect of their life was nowhere near healthy. Or it could be a crack fic where Reader is guarded like the president of the world.

For example, as a child, they applied themselves to everything, wanting to be as smart as their older siblings, and followed Alfred around all the time when they found out that he was a spy in his early days.

Every award was put on a shelf, every drawing was fridge worthy, to the point where they got a corkboard to put all their drawings, and whenever they wanted something, they got it. Bullies never got more than a week of fun before an injury befell their parents or some other misfortune. Bruce was almost constantly seen with them.

Timeskip to maybe their 20s, they're trying to hold down a long term relationship after so many ended up with their partners becoming distant before either they broke things off or Reader left them. Every batchild is using their own connections to try and keep possible suitors away.

Reader laments their lack of freedom and privacy to their friends, leading to the common "Tells people about a funny memory. Why are they looking at me like that"

Apparently, while it's normal for a brother to offer if their younger sibling has noone to take to the dance, saying that they should go instead of a proper date is not. Family members should not be dressing you like a doll past age 6 (The girls + Alfred + Dick all love putting outfits together for reader, saying that they're just made to be dressed up.).

Your parents shouldn't be physically intimidating and scaring off every partner, and definitely shouldn't be saying that you shouldn't look for a partner as long as you have them. Your family shouldn't "joke" about how friends are fine since "they're seldom as permanent as family".

Reader slowly realizes that they need to get out, fast. But instead of it being a struggle for the Batfam to find them because they know next to nothing, it's a fight to do something they couldn't predict because they've all been watching them like hawks since they set foot inside the manor.

Most, if not all of their friends outside of the group that convinced them to run are friends with at least one family member, so 60-90% of their social net has been gutted. They can't use their legal name while they live in Gotham, but they need a job to get the money to leave.

I think Damien being the biggest yandere would be really funny, especially if you read it like Lance Crown is with his sister. Bro has multiple lockets with photos of them throughout the years in them, as well as a photo for every single birthday he was present for.

In Damien's eyes, Reader's primary title is "Damien's Little Sibling" and is willing to deal with the shared titles that must come with that (Dick's Little Sibling, Bruce's Child, Alfred's Ward, etc). If you want to have the honor of bestowing Another Title upon Reader, Damien has to give the go ahead first. He will never give the go ahead.

Jason would also be super protective, since he was around when they were still learning to talk and walk. He comes into the living room and Alfred's got Reader on a blanket with some toys and upon seeing him, Reader wobbles to their feet and stumbles over to him, squealing in delight and almost falling over before grabbing onto his leg and smiling up at him.

It was at that moment, the Reader fan club was truly established. Bruce would be the leader since he was the dad, but Damien was second in command and manages the collections of information/photos.

AN: I have no clue about the lore/timeline the Batfamily has. If something mentioned couldn't have happened during a certain point of time, then I'm sorry lol.

[arabellaawrites]

infrunami | cl16

[ drabble ]

by which, she loved him too early, he loved her too late

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

warnings: none

a/n: hello everyone! this is my first fic ever and I'm so happy with how this turned out! I hope it was an enjoyable experience and I hope there wasn't any element that was unpleasant or unenjoyable for yall! I'm aware that it lacks dialogue and everything is past paced and doesn't have much room for detail! I swear I'm working on that and once I've perfected that art, I hope my writing will be more enchanted etc! alright enough yapping. enjoy the fic!

back then, you and arthur hated watching charles kart. the idea that you both needed to sit under the scorching monegasque sun for afew hours was never exciting but at least you get to watch arthur’s older brother, charles, kart. you’ve always fancied charles ever since arthur introduced you to him at the playground.

he was 3 years older then you and was the exact opposite of arthur, he was matured, well mannered and wasn't childish like you both were. that's what you love so much about him.

until he started going around europe to join racing series, when Arthur broke the news to you, you acted like it wasn't a big deal. you'll still get to see him on the television or during family holidays, right?. but that also means you'll be seeing him once a week or every few months, eventually a week turned into a month, a month turned into a year until suddenly you wont be seeing him at all which broke heart.

soon it was arthur who left you to follow in charles footsteps, racing across europe, joining f4 and achieving great things. unlike Charles, Arthur still kept in contact with you, constantly inviting you to his races and you both still enjoyed each others company, f4 soon turned into f3 and nothing has changed you still admired Charles from afar and Arthur would constantly ask "do you still have a crush on Charles?" or the occasional "y/n you have to let go" but you never did, Charles was your first love and you wanted him and only him.

every night you sleep in bed, tossing and turning, with arthurs voice continuously replaying in your head, but he was right you do have to let go.

when Charles first debuted for formula 1 for haas was when he first reached out to you in years with no contact. inviting you to join the paddock, to see him race in the pinnacle of motorsport, you were above and beyond the moon. strutting down the paddock next to Pascale and Arthur towards the hospitaly while also trying not to pay focus on the ever lasting sounds of camera shutters and kept your composure.

it has been years since then now Charles was in his 6 years in formula 1 and you have never been prouder, seeing him through his ups and down, supporting him through out all the hardships that this sport had caused him.

you often found yourself in and out of college trying to balance study with the constant travel to different races to support your best boys, Arthur and Charles. which alway lead you to end up in his, Charles, driver room before a race reassuring that he'll be fine and his team wont let him down again.

"your the best, y/n" he smiles before suiting up, making you stunned in place with a subtle blush spread across your face as you took his compliment.

barcelona 2023, and you just arrived at the Ferrari hospitality per usual, greeting the staff and Ferrari mechanics as your make your way inside until you bumped into someone making you tumble back as the mysterious man reaches for your waist, holding you steady, you smiled at him and apologized which made him smile back and that's where thing took off.

ever since that day you took has been seeing each other non stop and with that it ruined you and Charles relationship, plans were often cancelled, phone calls were usually ignored and text messages were left unopened. this took a toll on Charles, he's new profound feelings for you was too strong and by the time he realized that he has fallen, it was too late.

"mate please!"

Charles begged to Arthur over the phone, trying to figure out what his feelings were and was trying to piece in the clues in himself. he was frustrated, angry and confused he loved you but it was too late.

while you were living your best life, you had a partner in bed, your home always had that comfortable warm presence of your new boyfriend everything felt perfect, he was everything you ever wanted.

he was also everything Charles ever wanted to be, your man.

until one rainy Tuesday afternoon where everything went downhill, you just came home from them store and was welcome home by the repetitive sound of feminine moans that rang threw out the house. your groceries dropped to the floor followed by the sound of glass in your bag smashing which made the moans stop and your boyfriend ran out to where you were standing. "please I can explain this-" he frantically said while holding on to you as you tried to push him away, "I-ive heard enough! just leave and get your stuff while your at it!" tears swell your eyes as you tried to swallow the horrid sensation in your throat and pushed him away before running back into the rain and in your car. you broke down in heavy tears, your heart ache with hurt and sorrow as you try to make way to Charles place.

"y/n- who did this to you..?"

Charles said as he watches you stand in the rain, mascara running down your face and your clothes all soaking wet, without hesitation he pulled you inside and wrapped a towel around you,

" he cheated on me! how could he-"

you sobs onto him, "he was my-" hiccups "he was my everything and he just!"

you weeped into his chest as he held you tight and tried to calm you down. eventually you stopped crying and lifted your head from his chest

"cha.." you called out to him as he stroked your head and then looking down on you.

"know that I've-" you were cut off "yes I've known...I was an idiot, y/n...I realized too late. I really did love you...I was.." he sighed and looked down at her, "give me another chance, y/n.."

[zeawesomebirdie]

Superbat Fake Dating + Identity Porn Rec List

Thanks to @jourquet for asking for this!! I hope you find something here to read!! (And paging @steine-druff as promised!)

These are in no particular order, but generally organised by trope. I tend to read longfic as a general rule, so these recs will reflect that :) the titles contain links to each fic.

Fake Dating

1. A Common Misconception by rotasha; rated T; no archive warnings apply; 91,114 words; 21 chapters; complete

Summary:

When Bruce Wayne comes out, he accidentally becomes the poster child of bisexuality and realizes his lifestyle of sleeping around needs to come to an end. Clark, being the supportive friend that he is, volunteers to pretend to date him for a year.

You know the rest.

This fic has everything that one could want in fake dating: idiots in love, mutual pining, one bed, fake vacations, miscommunication. It also really captures the superbat dynamic of trusting and yes and-ing each other, even when they probably didn't need to be!

(And if you like this fic, any of rotasha's other works are just as good! I've got a few more of them in this list too)

2. over this threshold by orphean; rated T; no archive warnings apply; 59,283 words; 7 chapters; complete

Summary:

'I don't understand how tax evasion relates to you going on a date with, do I need to remind you, Bruce Wayne.'

Clark bit his tongue.

'We're going to get married. It's a tax break, not tax evasion.'

'Are you kidding me.' Lois stared. 'That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard.'

———

Bruce asks Clark to marry him for tax reasons. Clark, against his better judgment, agrees.

Exactly what it says on the tin. Some highlights include Bruce buying Clark ridiculously expensive suits, Clark taking forever to tell his mom what's going on, and of course the wedding itself which was just delightful, with speeches from Lois, Alfred, and Dick that had me crying.

3. A Rich Man's Game by malicegreres; rated T; no archive warnings apply; 63,942 words; 13 chapters; complete

Summary:

The editorial staff of the Daily Planet, currently owned by Bruce Wayne, is trying to organize a labor union. Clark can't explain to his coworkers why he can't participate without jeopardizing the campaign—or tell Batman why he's been so cagey around him lately. When Bruce finds out what's been going on, Clark recruits him to resolve his conflict of interest in the only way Clark can think of: by pretending to date him.

This fic is truly glorius. Of all the ways Clark could have solved this problem, he chose the most convoluted. And surprise surprise, it works!

4. mission parameters by shipyrds; rated E; no archive warnings apply; 33,394 words; 6 chapters; complete

Summary:

"Bruce." Clark turns towards him, leaning back against a bank of consoles. "We're not actually going undercover. We don't need an elaborate backstory– if anything, it'll be harder to keep straight. It doesn't have to be complicated." He spreads his hands. "Here's a story: we're members of the same elite fighting force. After years of saving each other's lives in the field, we fell in love. That's it."

Bruce swallows past the almost-truth of it. In Clark's warm smooth radio voice, it sounds plausible. It sounds like something that could happen.

—

Bruce and Clark pretend to be married for diplomatic reasons. When they return to Earth, things are a little different.

Of all the things that normally Bruce says, Clark is the one to insist on a simple coverstory. And of course, from such simple things spirals out a whole entire adventure that doesn't stop just because the mission is over! This fic features a domesticity that neither of them knew they needed until they had it

5. tell all the truth (but tell it slant) by susiecarter [@susiecarter on tumblr]; rated M; no archive warnings apply; 33,007 words; 1 chapter; complete

Summary:

It takes a while for Batman and Superman to work things out, once Clark comes back from the dead. Pretending to date each other in order to explain why Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent are in the same place so often? Doesn't help as much as you might think.

*slapping this fic like that one meme with the car* this fic can fit so much miscommunication into it, it's truly delightful to read!! Also, yet another fic where Clark fails to mention what's going on to his mother. And of course the constant worrying about each other without actually expressing it, which is truly such a golden trope when it comes to these two!

I'm adding a cut here because this is already very long and we are still only just starting, so click the read more to see the rest ^.^

6. there ain't no star that shines by amosangius [@amosanguis on tumblr]; rated E; no archive warnings apply; 11,713 words; 1 chapter; complete

Summary:

“I'm not the same person I was back in high school,” Clark says, “and I doubt they all are, either. What would be the point?”

“Oh, Clark,” Bruce is suddenly holding Clark's face with both of his hands, “the point is that I'm going to land us in a helicopter somewhere for all your classmates to see.”

Clark sighs and closes his eyes.

“Say 'yes', Clark,” Bruce orders.

Clark doesn't open his eyes, just says, “Yes, Clark.”

If you thought Bruce buying Clark expensive suits just for their fake dates was excessive, you ain't seen nothing yet!! This fic also features casual bed sharing (and so many references to casual intimacy oh my goodness it's lovely), Bruce Wayne being Rich As Fuck, and Bruce casually being overprotective of Clark in social situations

7. my heart is an open wound by yukla [@yuebings on tumblr]; rated T; no archive warnings apply; 13,367 words; 1 chapter; complete

“—I’ll see you kneel again,” Luthor is hissing, eyes hungry, and Clark is swaying back in discomfort—and as Lois checks their surroundings again, she notices that Wayne is still standing across the room, staring uselessly, as though he believes the sheer force of his murderous gaze would be enough to laser-blast Luthor into oblivion.

Jesus Christ, Lois thinks. I have to do everything around here.

5 times a Daily Planet employee protects Clark Kent, and 1 time Clark Kent protects the Daily Planet.

Or: Clark's coworkers watch as he fake-dates his crush with limited success.

It is probably obvious by now that miscommunication and Bruce's emotions getting in the way of everything are two of my favourite things to read. All of Clark's coworkers are the best, and once again Clark is a self-sacrificing idiot (affectionate)

8. flash in the pan by shipyrds; rated E; no archive warnings apply; 15,951 words; 3 chapters; complete

Summary:

Here’s the thing. Clark does understand. Superman and Batman are fucking. Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne are not. Clark can handle this. He keeps parts of his life separate all the time.

It’s possible, Clark thinks, as he glares at a lurid tabloid cover of Bruce’s latest scandalous yacht party in the grocery store checkout aisle, that he can’t handle this.

—

At the Wayne Foundation's annual holiday party, things come to a head.

Okay there is so much I want to say about this fic and yet there are no words that could possibly express just how incredible it is. Bruce coming up with the worst case scenario for literally everything? Check. Clark agreeing to fake date even though he's majorly head over heels and this will likely end in flames? Check. Ma Kent giving the best relationship advice ever? Check. Dick yelling at Bruce when he tries to self sabotage again? Check. Truly one of the best fucking-but-still-pining fics I've ever read!

9. Operation Sponsalia by Brenda [@brendaonao3 on tumblr]; rated E; no archive warnings apply; 13,610 words; 1 chapter; complete

Summary:

"When did you first realize you were in love with me?"

Bruce coughs up his wine.

"I mean, in this...whatever this is," Clark clarifies, blushing to the roots of his hair. "I don't think you're really — I mean, I know this isn't —"

"It's alright." Bruce's voice is raspy, but steady. "I know what you mean."

Clark's glad one of them does.

Or: Bruce and Clark have to fake an engagement for ~reasons — featuring a metric ton of very romantic dates, enough floral arrangements to start a flower shop, SO MANY puns, and Clark finally getting to know the real Bruce. :D

Clark doesn't find out that Bruce said to the press that they had been dating long enough to be teasing enagagements until after it's already been said. Was there a better way to explain why Bruce just happened to help save the Kent family farm? Absolutely. And yet they follow through on it anyway, and I love it for them

10. Sham-pagne by ChrisLeon; rated T; no archive warnings apply; 8,248 words; 1 chapter; complete

Summary:

Superman is spotted visiting Wayne Manor, prompting speculation about how exactly he knows Bruce Wayne. To protect their secret identities, they need a plausible explanation and it seems easy enough to go along with the tabloid theory that they’re sleeping together. All they have to do is pretend to be in a relationship until the speculation dies down and then they can break up move on.

Or: Superman fake-dates Bruce Wayne, we all know how this ends.

This one was fascinating to me because instead of Clark and Bruce dating, it's Superman and Bruce dating, and let me just say I'm so incredibly hinged about it!! I think there is so much potential in that particular version of their dynamic, and this fic was such a beautiful exploration of it!

11. Speaking in Code by Mithen; rated T; no archive warnings apply; 7,459 words; 1 chapter; complete

Summary:

Clark and Bruce must go undercover at a newlywed resort to try and stop an assassination attempt. Hijinks, UST, and reluctant making out ensue.

First of all, Mithen is a superbat master. Pick any fic of theirs and it will be delightful. Second of all, I could write an entire essay about how much I adore the way they go from irritable about this mission to incredibly enthuasiastic over the course of their two days at the resort, but then we'd be here all day so: if you like banter, one bed, and a case fic this is a brilliant read

12. Kind Truths by Mawiiish [@superbattrash on tumblr]; rated G; creator chose not to use archive warnings; 6,478 words; 1 chapter; complete

Summary:

Bruce needs help with an undercover mission. Clark can never say no to him even though he probably should before he does something stupid. Like tell Bruce he's in love with him.

--

“Why me?” Clark can’t help but ask. He tries his very best to keep his voice level, to not sound as desperate as he feels.

“Because I need someone there to watch my back,” Bruce says, a little exasperated. He really shouldn’t have to explain this to Clark of all people, it’s not like they haven’t been on missions together before.

“I get that, but what about Diana? Shayera?” Anyone who doesn’t have a big fat crush on Bruce would do.

Is it obvious I have a thing for Clark agreeing to fake dating despite his big crush on Bruce? This fic is glorious, and features delights such as Bruce metaphorically putting his foot in his mouth, Clark wanting nothing more than to defend Bruce's honor, and one of the most beautiful confession scenes I've ever had the pleasure of reading

13. where i come from by soetry [@soetrys on tumblr]; E; no archive warnings apply; 52,494 words; 11 chapters; complete

Summary:

Bruce doesn’t have a soulmark, and Clark doesn’t have a soulmark, on an Earth where everyone has a soulmark. Somewhere in there is a simple solution. Somewhere to that solution is an overcomplicated journey. Surely two of the world’s leading superheroes will not take the overcomplicated route?

Surely not?

This one is a little bit of both. The identity porn in this was really well done - Dick is a massive Superman fan, Bruce is unimpressed with both Superman and Clark Kent, and it all goes downhill from there (affectionate). Highlights also include Bruce using a dubiously legal site to crossreference soulmarks, him getting the Superman crest tattooed on his wrist using Kyrptonian tech, and Clark being a self-sacrificing idiot. This is also one of the best soulmate AUs I've ever read!!

Identity Porn

1. Get Over It by rotasha; rated T; no archive warnings apply; 32,378 words; 3 chapters; complete

Summary:

Bruce needs to get over his inconvenient feelings for Superman and he meets an attractive reporter who he thinks can help him do just that. Little does he know...

Of all the identity porn I've read, this is one of the best! Bruce dating Clark to get over Superman is one of the best things ever and this fic really does a good job of their dynamic!

2. Lost Time Without You by rotasha; rated T; no archive warnings apply; 68,792 words; 21 chapters; complete

Summary:

In a universe where your soulmate’s injuries show up on your skin, Bruce is convinced he doesn’t have a soulmate, and Clark is seriously concerned for his soulmate’s well-being.

This was my introduction to soulmate!AUs and oh my goodness it was spectacular! The build up to the reveal of their identities was brilliantly done, and the chance encounters that pepper through the lead up to that point were captivating. This fic also features Bruce being a good parent and I really love that for him

3. the cost of being a good dad by Mawiiish [@superbattrash on tumblr]; rated T; creator chose not to use archive warnings; 95,533 words; 10 chapters; complete

Summary:

Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian are all tired of watching Bruce struggle with the stress of trying to handle the newly formed Justice League. He needs an outlet, he needs to relax, he needs to get out of the house, he needs... he needs to start dating. And what he doesn't know won't hurt him, right?

--

“Excuse me, I don’t know who you think I am, but I think there’s been a mistake.”

“Bruce, right?” the guy says, albeit less confidently this time. He looks slightly concerned and if Bruce is not mistaken… a tad embarrassed. “Bruce Wayne? You look just like your pictures.”

“My pictures?” Something finally clicks in Bruce’s mind, and he takes a small step back and plasters a smile on his face as to not rouse suspicion. Stalker. “Ah, of course, I’m sorry but I’m late for an appointment.”

This fic features the batkids catfishing Clark on Bruce's behalf, Bruce being a good parent, and the utter chaos of miscommunication that can only come from these two being idiots! It was a delightful read, and of course the batfam in action is always a joy!

4. ship-to-ship combat by pomeloquat; rated M; no archive warnings apply; 62,737 words; 12/13 chapters; incomplete

Summary:

"Clark. What the hell is this," Lois asks, staring at Clark's Bruceman WIP folder. Clark's first instinct is to fly away, but that would still leave his fic on display for her to see. His second instinct is to blast a hole straight through his laptop screen with his heat vision, which isn't much better.

Clark, in an attempt to make some spare cash, unintentionally stumbles into the world of superhero fanfiction, becomes a prolific writer for Gotham's OTP, and tries his best to fend off rival fans who want him to convert to superbat instead.

Oh my goodness okay. Where to start with this fic. First of all, Clark writing Batman/Bruce Wayne fanfiction is such a brilliant concept. Then add to that the fact that Clark is secretly crushing on Batman at the same time, and the entire comedy of a trainwreck is a delight to witness!

5. I'm Not As Think As You Drunk I Am by Mardiaz173; rated T; no archive warnings apply; 12,920 words; 3 chapters; complete

It was like living in the Twilight Zone. Everyone else believed fervently in Bruce Wayne’s reputation. He was a flirty, stupid, and entitled drunk whose only redeeming quality was his bleeding heart. And yet every time Clark spoke with Wayne, the man was clever, mischievous, and sober with an indecipherable ulterior motive.

And no one believed Clark. Not Lois, not his parents, not even Batman.

Clark insisting upon defending Bruce to everyone much to everyone's dismay is one of my favourite superbat tropes ever, and this fic really does it well! And of course, this fic also features Batman shit talking Bruce, which is always a joy to see!

6. Don't Quote Me by metropolisjournal [@metropolisjournal on tumblr]; rated E; no archive warnings apply; 77,131 words; 20/21 chapters; incomplete

Summary:

Bruce Wayne has weathered scandal before, and Wayne Enterprises can handle another publicity crisis. What Bruce can’t handle is one crashing up against his plans to infiltrate Lex’s estate. Set during Batman v. Superman.

This was the fix-it for Batman vs Superman that I didn't know I needed until I read it. The identity reveal was so incredibly well written, and the whole fic was stupendous from the very first chapter!

And that's all for now! I hope you find something in here to read, may you enjoy!!

[wolfiihoney]

Little Megumi can’t sleep and Toji needs your help. <33

A/N: Hey, honeybuns! Saurr here’s another fic for you guys! I’m excited to start my “Evil Reader x Sukuna” series, I just have to get in the right head space but until then I’ll be giving y’all some fluffy stuff to read. I hope you all like it! Credit goes to the artist of the picture above. I just found it on Pinterest and it didn’t have any details about the artist.

Pairing: Toji x reader x bby megumi

Established relationship

Wc: 1700

Warn: none

a/n unedited srry! <3

���Hey, doll. Were you asleep?" Toji's tired, deep voice crackled through the other end of your phone, sounding slightly sheepish. "I’m sorry to call so late."

You sat up in bed, surprised to hear from him at such a late hour. "I’m awake now, Toji. What’s going on?"

There was a brief pause, and you could hear Toji clear his throat before speaking again.

"It’s... It’s Megumi," he said, his voice growing serious. He’s a little scared of the rain and he won’t settle down until you're here."

You were silent for a moment, your heart slightly touched that Megumi had asked for you. Up until this point, you'd never spent much time alone with the quiet 6-year-old, always respecting his boundaries. But something about hearing that he wanted your presence made your heart skip a beat.

"I know it’s late and the weather’s terrible. But Megumi’s been upset all evening and he hasn’t stopped asking for you."

knowing that you couldn’t refuse after hearing the urgent tone in Toji’s voice. You had always cared for Megumi, but hearing his vulnerability like this was something new.

"Okay," you finally said. "I’ll come over." You said.

“There’s no way in hell I’m letting you drive in this weather, I’m coming to get you. Yuji is here anyway. he can watch Megumi for a while.” He said instantly.

He was right you didn’t need to be driving at this time of night.

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. "Alright, I’ll be ready by then."

You quickly hung up the phone and rushed to get dressed, anticipation and a strange sense of nervousness building up inside you.

About 28 minutes later you peek out from your yellow living room curtains and see the familiar sight of Toji’s black car rounding the corner. It pulled up right in front of your apartment building and the passenger window rolled down, revealing Toji’s handsome face.

“Get in, doll,” he said, his deep voice barely audible through the rain.

rushing outside with an umbrella in hand. You quickly get into the car, and as the door closes behind you. there's silence between the both of you, broken only by the sound of raindrops tapping against the windows. Toji's strong arm reaches over you to put your seatbelt on for you.

Toji’s car smelled like him, a mix of musk, leather, and a hint of his cologne. It was a familiar and comforting scent that you had grown addicted to over the past year.

“Thanks for coming in this weather,” he said, his eyes flicking over to you. “I know you probably weren’t expecting to get out of bed tonight.”

You chuckled softly, trying to ignore the fluttery feeling in your chest.

"No, I wasn’t expecting this," you admitted, leaning back in your seat. "But I couldn’t say no after hearing about Megumi."

Toji nodded, his eyes focused back on the road. The wipers were going double-time to keep up with the heavy rain.

"Yeah, he’s been asking for you," he said quietly. "I’ve never seen him get so worked up over a bad dream before."

You were slightly surprised by this revelation. Megumi had always been a laid-back child, but hearing that he was so shaken by a bad dream was normal for other 6-year olds but unusual for gumi.

"Has he had bad dreams like this before?" you asked, the concern evident in your voice.

Toji’s grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly.

"No," he said, his tone becoming serious. "This is new. He’s never gotten this upset about a dream before. You could sense the tension in Toji’s voice and the way his jaw was clenched. It was clear that he was worried about Megumi.

"Do you think something happened with him at school today?" you asked, trying to figure out what could be causing Megumi to be so upset.

Toji shrugged, his eyes fixated on the rain-soaked road.

"I don’t know," he answered gruffly. "He seemed fine when I picked him up from daycare, but then he started getting upset as we got closer to home."

You sat in silence for a moment, contemplating what could be bothering Megumi. The rain continued to beat down on the car, the sound of the droplets hitting the window creating a soothing rhythm.

Toji suddenly spoke up, breaking the silence.

"You know, doll," he said, his voice softer this time. "Megumi hasn’t asked for anyone else except you. It’s always ‘I want doll’ or ‘Can we call doll?” He said, you smiled lightly at that, knowing Toji never really called you by your real name and Megumi must have picked up on that.

Toji broke your thoughts again.

"I wonder if he’s been feeling lonely or something," he said, his voice laced with a hint of worry. "He’s never been very close with any of the kids at daycare. Maybe he’s lonely and missing his mother."

As Toji mentioned Megumi’s mother, a pang of sympathy shot through your chest. You knew that Megumi’s mother had passed away when he was just an infant, leaving Toji to raise him on his own.

You reached out and placed a hand on Toji’s arm, trying to offer some comfort. It went quiet again and you felt sympathy for both of them

After a few more minutes, Toji finally pulled into the driveway of his house. The rain had lessened slightly, but the night was still pitch black.

As you both stepped out of the car, you could see a faint light through the window of the house, indicating that Megumi was still awake.

Toji led the way up to the front door, quickly unlocking it and gesturing for you to enter first.

As you stepped into the house, you were immediately enveloped by the warmth and comfort of Toji and megumi’s home. The smell of fresh coffee lingered in the air, mixing with the familiar scent of Toji’s cologne.

Toji shut the door behind you and gestured for you to follow him down the hallway.

“Just give me a minute to go check on him and then I’ll bring you in.”

Toji disappeared into the bedroom for a moment, leaving you standing alone in the hallway. You could hear the sound of Toji’s deep voice speaking softly to Megumi, followed by a slightly softer and younger voice replying.

A few minutes later, Toji emerged from the bedroom, a small smile on his face.

"He’s willing to talk now," he said, his eyes meeting yours. "He asked for you specifically."

As you made your way toward Megumi’s bedroom, you caught a glimpse of Yuji stumbling out of the guest room, rubbing his eyes. He was clearly half-asleep and disheveled, his messy hair sticking up in all directions.

Yuji caught sight of you and Toji, and his eyes widened slightly as he suddenly realized there was a guest in the house,

Toji chuckled softly at the sight of Yuji’s sleep-filled expression.

"Going to bed, kid?" he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Yuji nodded, letting out a loud yawn.

"Yeah, I’m tired," he mumbled, still bleary-eyed.

You couldn’t help but smile at Yuji's messy appearance. It was adorable how sleepy he was, barely able to keep his eyes open.

Yuji stumbled back towards the guest room, mumbling something that sounded like a “goodnight” before disappearing back into the room.

Toji turned back to you, a soft smile on his face.

"Ready to see Megumi?" he asked, gesturing towards Megumi’s bedroom door.

Toji knocked softly on Megumi’s door before gently opening it. The room was dimly lit, with a small lamp casting a warm glow over the room.

On the bed, you could see a small lump where Megumi was hiding under the covers. He looked up as you entered, and his face lit up slightly when he saw you.

Megumi sat up in the bed, his eyes still a little puffy from crying.

"You came," he said softly, his voice sounding louder than usual.

You smiled gently, moving over to the bed and sitting down carefully beside him.

"Of course I did," you said, ruffling his hair affectionately. "You asked for me, didn’t you?"

“I didn’t think you’d come," he admitted, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket.

You shook your head, reaching out to place a hand on his small back.

"Why wouldn’t I come?" you asked, looking at him with a caring expression. "You were upset, and you asked for me. I’d always come."

Megumi looked up at you, his eyes filled with a vulnerable expression.

"I had a bad dream," he said quietly, his voice quivering slightly.

You wrapped an arm around him, pulling him closer to you.

"Bad dreams happen," you said gently. "But they’re not real. You’re safe here, Megumi. Nothing can hurt you when You’re daddy is here."

Megumi looked at you with pleading eyes, his bottom lip trembling slightly.

“And You?” He said. “Yes gumi, and me.” He was so sweet you felt like crying.

"Can I... can I sleep in bed with you and daddy tonight?" he asked, his voice small.

Toji, who had been standing nearby, let out a soft chuckle.

"Sure, kid," he said, his voice gentle. "You can sleep with us tonight."

Megumi's eyes lit up at Toji's answer, and he immediately looked up at you with a hopeful expression.

You smiled down at Megumi, feeling a pang of affection for the young boy.

"Of course, Megumi," you said, ruffling his hair gently. "You can sleep in the bed with us tonight.

With Toji's help, you made room for Megumi in the bed, making sure he was comfortable and secure between you and Toji

You were all snuggled up in the bed, with Megumi securely nestled between you and Toji. Toji's arm was thrown loosely over both you and Megumi, keeping you both close.

Toji reached over and placed a gentle kiss on the top of Megumi's head, his voice rumbling deep in his chest as he spoke.

"You're safe now," he said softly. "We've got you. You can have good dreams now.”

Toji's voice softened even more, with a hint of emotion in his tone.

"Sleep now, both of you," he said, his arm tightening slightly around you. "I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere."

You felt a warm feeling in your chest at Toji's words, knowing that he truly meant every one of them.

Megumi let out a soft sigh, his eyes already fluttering closed as he relaxed into the bed.

Toji, seeing Megumi and you starting to drift off, spoke up again in a quiet voice.

"And remember," he said, his fingers gently rubbing your shoulder, "I love you both.”

The words hung in the air, filling the room with an atmosphere of safety and comfort.

[malfoyscoffee]

birthday cakes ౨ৎ draco malfoy

♡ draco malfoy x transfer!slytherin!reader ᝰ fluff, slight angst ☆ reader has neglectful parents, use of y/n

a.n.: this is my first fic for this account, so it's not my best work.

6:02 pm

“Finally, in a few hours, our lovely Y/N will be 16!” Pansy clapped her hands together in delight, excited for your birthday.

“Oh Pansy, it's not that serious.” You shrug while picking at your food.

You were a transfer student from Drumstrang, so this was indeed the first birthday you would spend at Hogwarts.

The moment you were placed into Slytherin, Draco approached you and befriended you into his group of friends. Ever since, you have grown closer with all of them.

Mattheo puts his fork down, “But Y/N, this is your first time celebrating your birthday with us!”

“He’s right,” Theodore started, “we should stay up till midnight since we don't have class tomorrow anyway.”

You looked up at your friends, knowing they wanted to cheer you up.

It was this morning when you received your monthly letter from your parents. They wrote that you should study harder to keep up your—currently perfect—grades, along with how they were going on another business trip to America.

They wrote about everything but your birthday.

This was nothing new, after all, they were always busy during your previous birthdays.

Blaise joined in, “If it makes you feel any better, we all had our gifts bought last month because someone,” he looked over at Pansy, “wanted to start gift shopping early.”

You turned to Pansy who simply grinned, “Oh, come on, you didn't have to spoil the surprise, Blaise!”

Pansy playfully slapped Blaise’s shoulder while you, Mattheo, and Theodore laughed.

The laughter died down and you spoke, “By the way, where's Draco?”

Draco Malfoy, your best friend. You would consider him the closest person to you in all of Hogwarts.

You haven't seen the blond a lot this week, mostly during classes. After classes ended, instead of him hanging out with you, he would leave the common room and not come back all night.

Two days ago, he returned late at night to the common room, passing by your group of friends while his dark robes were covered in some white powder. You asked what was wrong as he bee-lined towards the stairs, but he muttered something with a frustrated face; you haven't had a chance to talk to him since.

All the talk about your birthday made you start to feel excited, but you wanted Draco to be around too. But seeing how he has been the past week, you were starting to doubt he remembered your birthday.

You were too busy in thought to see the four of your friends sending eye signals to each other, each of them caught off-guard to give you an excuse.

Unlike Blaise exposing everyone’s early gift preparation, this was something that needed to be covered up.

Theodore cleared his throat first, “I think he's practicing more Quidditch. You know, since the season is starting soon.”

Mattheo added on, his food long forgotten, “You know how serious he is with beating every house, especially Gryffindor.”

“Oh,” you nodded your head “that reminds me, I'll see my first Hogwarts Quidditch match soon!” Your mood was suddenly lifted, thinking back to your old school’s Quidditch games. You always loved Quidditch and attended every game since you were a first-year at Drumstrang.

The moment you started to ramble to your friends about your favorite sport, you didn't hear the sighs of relief at your table.

11:50 pm

Pansy and Blaise were walking with you back to the common room. You just spent a few hours stargazing with them by the Black Lake.

Mattheo and Theodore said something about having to practice Quidditch with Draco too, which you didn't want to hold them back for. They made sure to tell you that they would meet the three of you back before midnight before they hurried off.

“We’re going to the Three Broomsticks tomorrow?”

“Of course, we’re going to have a birthday dinner. We always celebrate our birthdays there.”

You smiled, grateful to have wonderful friends. “It's not even my birthday yet, but thank you both for preparing so much. You guys know already, but I didn't celebrate my birthday during my childhood.”

Pansy and Blaise look at you with sadness, knowing about your life with your busy parents. It was a post-party hangout at Draco’s dorm when you opened up to all of them, partially because you were drunk, but also because you knew you could trust all five of them.

“Y/N, we’re your family too. We will always celebrate your day with you, so don't think too much about your parents.” You smiled at Blaise, grateful for his words.

The three of you finally reached the Slytherin common room. Although it was late, there were many students sprawled out of the room, hanging out with each other.

“Should we go check up on Draco?” Pansy asked, staring at her watch.

“Wouldn’t he be asleep?” You asked confused.

You assumed that since he was busy with Quidditch, he forgot about your birthday. The thought of him forgetting your birthday made you grow a bit sad, but you didn't want to make it a big deal.

Blaise started walking to the stairs, “He doesn't sleep early, come on.”

Pansy followed quickly behind Blaise, leaving you a little confused.

“Y/N!” Pansy yelled from the top of the stairs, “Let’s go!”

You grew confused but followed after your friends, walking up the stairs to Draco’s room.

“Pansy? Blaise? Where did you guys go?” You reached the top and did not see your friends.

You approached Draco’s dorm, knocking on the door.

“Draco? Are you in here?” You pushed the knob, stepping inside the dark room. You took two steps before there was a loud sound next to you, like something popping.

12:00am

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY Y/N!”

The lights turned on and you looked around, Draco’s dorm decorated for your birthday. Green balloon letters were written ‘HAPPY 16TH BIRTHDAY’ and confetti was thrown all over the floor. There was also a stash of gifts in the corner of his room, definitely the one Pansy made them buy in advance.

You were immediately hugged by Pansy, “It’s midnight! The start of your big day!”

Blaise, Theodore, and Mattheo chuckled before all saying happy birthday to you.

You had never smiled so hard, feeling so grateful for all of your friends.

“What happened to Quidditch practice today?” You ask Theodore and Mattheo, assuming they must have decorated Draco’s room. However, it may have been the messy arrangement of the balloon letters that gave it away. 

Mattheo looked at you with wide eyes, “That was a lie. Sorry, we tried to have you distracted to prepare this.”

You let out a laugh, “It’s okay, wait a minute, then what about Draco’s practices?”

The group felt silent, not before looking behind you at the currently opened door “If your practices were a lie, then was Draco’s-”

“Happy Birthday, Y/N” A voice interrupted your own.

You turned your body to the door, and a smiling Draco entered the room. Looking at his hands, he held a green cake with a single lit candle on top. It spelled out ‘Happy Birthday Y/N’ in frosting.

“Draco? What is this?”

“Well, snake's out of the bag,” Draco said standing in front of you.

Pansy went to stand beside you first, “But before, let’s sing first!”

The others agreed and started to sing you a happy birthday, Mattheo’s off-pitch voice making you laugh the whole time. When they finished you smiled, closing your eyes to make to make a wish before blowing out the candle.

“Yay!” Mattheo screamed excitedly, jumping up and down.

“Let’s go down to the common room to eat!” Theodore suggested, leaving the room to race Mattheo.

The rest of you four laughed, following them quickly.

“So,” you started, “did Draco have practice this week?” You sat down on the couch as your friends surrounded you.

Draco grinned, “You’ve caught me. I made your cake myself.” Your eyes widened in surprise as he put the cake down for Pansy to cut it.

“You thought Pansy reminding us a month in advance to buy gifts was insane? Draco spent the entire week learning how to bake a cake for your birthday.”

Draco took a seat next to you on the couch, hiding behind you as Blaise and Mattheo teased him further.

“Is that true?” You asked Draco, who shrugged his shoulders as if it was nothing.

“Have the first slice, Y/N” Pansy passed you a slice on a plate that she somehow prepared while you were too shocked.

“Come on, tell us if it’s bad!” Mattheo said from the couch across from you, earning a smack in the head from Blaise.

You took a bite and it seemed like the cake was baked by a professional. You savored the taste and smiled, “It's delicious!”

That was all it took for Mattheo and Theodore to beg Pansy for slices, while Blaise was busy helping her cut the cake.

“Thank you, Draco, I didn't know.” He put his arm around your shoulder, leaning closer to you.

“I’m happy you love it, and that the cake didn't taste bad.” You laughed as you kept eating the cake.

“Y/N,” Blaise said, all your friends now settled down with cake slices except Draco, “You don’t understand. Not only did he learn how to bake that cake, he asked all of us to taste test it each time..”

A realization hit your eyes, “Is that why you were all sick a few days ago? It was his previous cakes?”

All your friends laughed as Draco hid his face in your neck embarrassed.

“At least it tastes wonderful now.” Mattheo munched on his cake slice with a smile, “Draco, you need to bake all of us birthday cakes now.”

Draco shook his head, before looking at you.

“Only for Y/N’s birthdays.”

[drarryspecificrecs]

2024.11 ~ Top 8 longest fics posted on AO3

1. Split Soul by write_me227 [M, 267k]

Harry Potter always thought that life following the war would be worth living. However, six months after the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry finds himself overwhelmed with violent grief and an unwanted PTSD diagnosis. [...] In a freak accident, Harry finds himself on Earth's Echo, a seemingly perfect reality that has never been touched by Voldemort. The only problem: Draco Malfoy is unapologetically in love with him. It's a problem that Harry is willing to overlook if it means he never has to go back to the miserable life he was living — until he realizes that there's much more to this so-called perfect reality than it seems, and it sends Harry deeper into the universe than he ever wanted to be.

2. Silver Runes and a Waterlogged Grave I by @whitesturgeon [M, 118k]

What if instead of coming back after Voldemort killed him in the forest, Harry decided to give himself to Death? What if Death had plans for him?

3. For the Time Being by soweer [E, 95k]

Draco and Harry's kids, James and Iris, along with Hugo, wanted a do-over of the day. Truly. That was all it was. So when they found a Time Turner, they had their chance to do that. What they didn't expect was accidentally landing in the middle of The Great Hall, staring at their young dad. Oh, and their parents hate each other.

4. Friendly Competition by @jaysehasnograce [M, 74k]

Harry is going to be the new Hogwarts Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. He needed a change from the way his life had been going. Unfortunately, he finds out Draco Malfoy is also going to be starting as a Hogwarts professor. Their rivalry is, of course, not budging. But since they're teachers now, they're not allowed to fight (well, they tried, but going against Minerva McGonagall's wishes is never advised). They both become fixated on proving they're the best teacher [...]

5. In Between by velkalopsia [G, 72k]

Weeks after Draco publishes his memoir, a tell-all on his turbulent life, he vanishes. The wizarding world is sent into a frenzy, even more so when none other than Harry Potter is put in charge of the case. In which Harry travels through Draco’s memories in an attempt to save him and ends up falling in love with him in the process.

6. The Ashes of Phaeton by NNebula [E, 49k]

After the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry Potter had vanished, leaving a trail of mystery and unanswered questions in his wake. Draco Malfoy, now under the Ministry of Magic's watchful eye due to his past as a Death Eater, leads a mundane life filled with paperwork and menial tasks—until he is unexpectedly summoned to investigate a series of robberies targeting former Death Eaters. The moment Draco lays eyes on a blurred photograph of a suspect, he is gripped by a familiar dread. The man in the image bears an uncanny resemblance to Potter, igniting long-buried emotions and unresolved tension. [...]

7. Secret of Malfoy by chrysaetius [T, 49k]

Draco has secrets. Harry is determined to uncover what he's hiding. Just like old days...

8. The Felix Potion Chronicles by Miss_Healthy_OneShot [?, 47k, 3 works]

Having already traveled back in time once to free Draco from a 10-year sentence in Azkaban, Harry is now thrust even further back, landing in his sixth year at Hogwarts. With the stakes higher than ever, can he persuade Draco to turn away from the Dark Lord’s grip before it’s too late? The clock is ticking, and every choice could change their fate forever.

—

※ Word count: 1k ~ 15k

※ Word count: 15k ~ 40k

After Bite by @sadlonelyyogurt [E, 17k]

Bad Men, Good Deeds by @parmejeannecheese [T, 30k]

The Day The Stars Went Out by BelleMort [E, 22k]

Fight Fire with Fiendfyre by @xx-thedarklord-xx [M, 21k]

His Favourite Horcrux by @duchessdulce [T, 38k]

it’s our thing by plumforests [G, 24k]

A Month in the 9th Arrondissment by @professordrarry [T, 19k]

—

Ongoing Fest/Exchange

※ Fics would be listed elsewhere.

2024 H/D Muggle Fair | @hd-fan-fair

HD Tarot Fest | @hd-tarot

HP Fuck You Fest

Frottage Cottage Impromptu Smutsgiving 2024

Wizarding World Reverse Trope Fest | @wwreversetropefest2024

[emsgwenstan]

The letter

FLUFF babes, wholesome happy ending kinda fic, but if u know me there’s always a dash of angst thrown in. LOVE CONFESSION!

Words: 1.5-2k

Warnings: non just anxiety.

———

You had to do it, it was killing you not to. There you were hands trembling smoothing down your hair and picking the invisible lint of your black v-neck’s long sleeves, your vision almost blurring due to the nerves. The piece of paper that lay on the dressers surface crumpled and worn already, every night you would reread your words over and over as if trying to memorise a script, it’s been a week since you had written the letter and the only thing to come of it was nightmares of how wrong this could go.

The plan of attack is to go find Larissa, preferably in her office confined in privacy and confess the two years of emotions to her, what will happen next is beyond you. Standing from the edge of your bed and stimming your hands as if to shake away the impending panic attack you pace to the mirror to straighten your silver necklace and fix any possible discrepancies with your simple make up.

Larissa and yourself had a great relationship, well friendship. You enrolled as an art and outcast history teacher two years ago and since then the dynamic between the two of you has been nothing short of amazing and domestic, you would go shopping in Burlington once a month and occasionally go out for dinner every Friday, as well as the random night caps that prolonged for longer then they should leading into the early hours of the morning on a school night.

Larissa had been adverse to opening up for the first six months or so, never really wanting to rely or put her trust into someone who could possibly hurt or cause harm to her feelings, understandably of course, the first personal conversation she really initiated was about previous experiences with friendships and or relationships, mortica and Marilyn being just examples. You though, seemed to understand her on a different level, having shared the same kind of difficulties, ranging from friends to past lovers and many otherwise distasteful people. She caught onto how understanding and empathetic your were, the fact that you listened and heard what she was trying to say, but not in the way other staff would listen, you didn’t show any kind of frightened emotion because of her authority, instead you saw her for her, you saw her as Larissa not principal Weems.

Finally with enough courage mustered, you snatch the letter and exit your quarters making the nerve wracking trek to her office. It’s about 6:30 when you leave, having had time to get changed and prepare after dinner and settle in the meantime. You shoved your phone in the back pocket of your navy jeans and keys in the tiny front pocket, the only sounds emanating within the stone halls are the steps of your flats and the deep inhale and exhales of breath.

Once you arrive the gold plaque with her name displayed, almost mockingly showed your reflection as if to say don’t do it, don’t fuck this. But you did it, you knocked. Larissa sat hunched over her desk and rested her elbows on the mahogany rubbing her temples to release the never ending headache when her door rang with three prominent knocks. “Come in?” Who the hell would be needing something from her no- oh. “Hey.” You said slipping through the doors and gently shutting it. “Oh y/n, how are you sweetheart?” She asked straightening up and closing her laptop.

“I’m ok…” you said quietly eyes flicking about the room as an awkward silence lingered in the air. Larissa was the first to speak again. “Is there something I can help you with?…Or?” She asked tiling her head to try catch your gaze. “Yes-no, I..I don’t know.” You stuttered. Her tense shoulders relaxed a little and her mouth involuntarily twitched into a hopefully helpful smile, even though she was confused. “Sorry I’m just…” you began with a sigh trailing to one of the seats in front of her desk and slumping into it whilst shaking your head. “It’s ok, take your time I’m all ears, you know that.” She spoke clasping her hands gracefully upon the wooden surface.

In the palm of your hand rested the yet again scrunched piece of paper, your thumbs rubbed at the corner of the page with a tremble. For the first time since entering the threshold you looked at her, properly, meeting her glittering cerulean eyes and sweet expression. She was breathtaking as always dressed in one of her finest matching cream coat and skirt suits and white silk blouse, her jewellery glistening to polished perfection and hair meticulously crafted, and to top it off the signature red lipstick you were oh so fond of.

“You look wonderful, are you off somewhere?” She asked in a smooth voice. “Hmm? Oh no.” You muttered letting the silence fall yet again. “I um…” deep breath. “I want to say something, but…I would like it if you could let me at least attempt to finish before you respond, if that’s ok.” You said gulping half way through your sentence. “That’s ok, if it’s something you’ve done I’m sure we can work through it, but I must admit your making me worried darling, you’re never this formal.” She confessed.

Abruptly standing, you turned you back to let your eyes close for a moment before continuing, putting a healthy distance between you both, you shakily unravel the paper and look to her. “You know better than anyone that I like to say and do things face to face right?” You asked as a prompt to actually stop procrastinating. “I do.” She confirmed. “And no matter the circumstances I try to face every single confronting situation.” You continue. “Of course, I try to encourage you to do so…” she trailed never taking her eyes off of you. “Ok.” You whisper.

One last look before the potential disaster you’re about to cause. “Dearest Larissa.” You began reading from the page pausing every couple of moments. “For the past two years… you have been my companion, confidant, wingwoman and best friend.” You say taking another breath. “You have listened, you have learned and tolerated much of me over this time… for that I will be infinitely grateful, just as I am for all the time we have spent together.” Your eyes flitted to her for a fraction of a second to see if she was following, she was, hanging off every word.

“Your trust and faith in me is my motivation to get up in the morning and try to succeed in the job you have generously handed to me, it also gives me a sense of pride that I am the one you choose to trust with your most inner thoughts and feelings, about people, about values, about whatever you wish to share, another thing I’m greatfull for.” You pause again to collect your bearings and hold it together. “You are kind, intelligent, sweet, beautiful and all round incredible in every sense of the word. You have a talent to command a crowd to your will and a gentleness that is rare to just the average person. I’ve never once been disappointed in who you are, not once, because it’s you and anyone who meets you in their lifetime should thank themselves lucky for having that privilege.”

Larissa sat wide eyed with her lips slightly parted in anticipation of hearing the rest. “I think I should finally own up to being the one who leaves the random flowers, sticky notes and occasional hot chocolate when you haven’t the time to get them yourself, not that you should have to, I apologise if it was too invasive and if you wish for me to stop I will do so, I believe that you deserve to have something to brighten up your day with something as simple as those, because you do.” You say starting to feel the tears prick in the corners of your eyes and hands unsteadily grasp the paper.

Resuming in a breaking voice. “On that note you deserve so much, someone’s hand to hold or shoulder to cry or collapse on, an unasked for embrace and a warm bed filled with tender care. You have no idea-.” You cut yourself of by sniffing and wiping the free falling droplets rolling down your cheeks. “No idea how much it pains me to know that you feel unseen, overlooked and unappreciated by others, but you have to know how much I see what you do, I see the sleepless nights behind your eyes and the insults scared on your heart.” You said holding back sobs.

“I know that you don’t-.” You bit your lip suppressing the pain just for a while longer. “That you don’t feel what I do… that my feelings are unrequited, but at this moment I wouldn’t want to spend my time doing anything else then making sure that you know.” Tilting the paper down and raising your eyes to meet hers you spoke again. “How loved you are, how much you are loved by me, and that you will always have someone who is proud of you for everything, and is interested in all the things you have to say.” You lifted to paper back to you frame of vision and read the last part of you letter.

“Because you Larissa are cherished and held in the most sacred part of my soul and have a home in my heart. I love you with every fibre of my being my sweet girl and I hope you don’t ever forget it… yours, y/n y/l/n.” The second you finished the tightnesses in your throat felt like your breathing constricted to only the most minuscule of air. Gasping for it you dropped to your knees and held onto your chest as if it would help in some way.

Larissa’s own tears fell as you pressed on, the second you fell to the floor she sprung into action by coming to your side, she knelt on the ground and placed a hand on your shoulder to signal her presence. You looked up at her and instantly reached for her face with one hand and the other still holding onto your chest. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry Larissa, please, please, please don’t hate me I’m sorry, I ruined everything, I just- I…” you mumbled almost incoherently between gasps, and just like that when you truly saw her through stinging tears you yourself asked her if she was ok.

“Oh, no don’t cry! Please, no you’re ok, you’re ok.” You squeaked using your other hand to remove the mascara streaks down her porcelain skin. Larissa was stunned by the way you selflessly still even at this point managed to be more concerned about her then you own breakdown. Larissa had never in her life time experienced something like this, not a single person has ever expressed such concern and care towards her and she doesn’t know how to react. She knows that this isn’t the first time you have told someone you like them, but she also knows you have never told someone you love them, let alone that being her.

“I can go, I’ll- I’ll go and I’ll leave you be, ok? You can forget this ever happened alright?” You said sitting back on your thighs to reach the dropped letter, but Larissa stopped you by grasping your wrist and making you look at her. “Stop. Just stop… you’ll stay.” She said in a groggy tone. “But-.” “No.” She cut in. Coming back full force your body wreaked with more uncontrollable sobs. Larissa guided you into her arms and let you be broken just for a moment to release your pent up adrenaline. She held you and rocked you until you calmed and slowed with the pouring apology’s. Gently she tried to coax you out of your state by quietly shushing and running her palm over the crown of your head to the nape of your neck over and over.

Neither of you knew how long it was that you sat wrapped together, but when it felt right Larissa pulled back and cupped your face in her hand and peered into your swollen and puffy eyes. “Thank you.” She breathed. You stared back at her almost emotionless drained of any and all energy, you were confused as to why she chose to thank instead of ask you to leave in disgust. “I’m sorry that I did this.” You started. “But I’m not sorry that I fell in love with you.” You said picking at the skin around your nails. “Nor am I.” She replied. The crease in your brows deepened at her words.

Slowly Larissa lent her forehead against your own and breathed deeply. “What did I do to be graced with you?.” She whispered. “I’m the one who should be proud of you darling, you said it. You said what I’ve wished to say for a long time, and… I know that must have been very difficult to say, but I’m glad you did.” She said. Your eyes fluttered close to just enjoy this small moment. “Look at you comforting others with the words you wish to hear, y/n…” she retracted just a little. “You are the one who is loved by me. I’m just not as brave as you to say it, but I am now and I don’t know what this means, but I see how much love you have to give, I feel it when ever your around… you told me once you believe that you were only meant to give love and not receive it, but if you will let me, I want to give mine to you.” She smiled.

This isn’t how you pictured this to go, not in the slightest, but who could ever complain. You peered into her eyes so intensely to make sure there was no underlying malice or false intention, but you didn’t find an ounce. You took ahold of Larissa’s right hand and opened her fingertips to lay a palm on your chest. “Rissa…” you started, not being able to find the right words. “I know.” She said pulling her hand with yours on top and cupping your cheek, you leaned into her touch just to relish in her warmth. More tears fell down your cheeks burning from following the same tracks as previous ones. “I’m so tired.” You hummed. “I know.”

Larissa removed her heels tossing them aside before shifting herself to a grounding position on her knees. She held the back of your calves and wrapped them around her waist and moved your arms to brace around her neck. You caught on to what she was doing and almost resisted not wanting her to hurt herself by your weight, instead she leaned back putting one arm around your waist and one under your ass holding you to her as she stood. Larissa guided yourselves through to her quarters adjacent of her office and without letting you go she knelt on the bed and laid down without disturbing the position.

That bed, the same luxurious place the two of you shared so many memories in, watching movies, bickering, watching her remove her make up in the vanity’s reflection, the same place she perched her head in your lap to brush out her hair and loosely braid for her to sleep in. This was the place you knew you loved her, you saw Larissa for everything she was and only you have had the privilege of knowing who and what she really is.

Your head moved from the crook of her neck to the same pillow she occupied and breathed her in, you moved one of your arms to the little space between you and used you fingertip to trace over her face, her cheeks, nose, eyes and lips, Larissa felt peace, she felt whole like a missing part of her returned, she always felt that way when you were around, even the times she would walk past your classroom and though she couldn’t see you her stomach would erupt in butterflies knowing you were close.

“I love you y/n.” She whispered. Your gaze turned upward to her eyes and you smiled, a genuine smile that only she could bring to your face. “I love you more.” You replied. “Larissa?” You asked after a moment’s hesitation. “Mmm?” She hummed. “Would it be selfish of me to ask if I could kiss you…” you said hoping for a yes, but if she still has boundaries-. Larissa didn’t even respond, within two seconds of finishing your question she kissed you, gently but passionately, she swallowed every breath of yours and you hers.

After a while your limbs were together intertwined, soft breaths as well as shuddering ones from the after effects of crying and shy strokings from nimble fingers were what made the pain from many prior months seem to wither away. Larissa and yourself had moved off the bed to change into something to sleep in, she wouldn’t let you leave and for that you were happy because you didn’t want to.

You rested in her clothes in her bed under the sheets curled to her side as she rested against the headboard, eyes fluttering from exhaustion. Larissa played with your hair tracing the shell of your ear before reaching to her bedside table pulling out the small notebook from the draw, she rested it in her lap and opened it flipping through the first couple of pages and she began to read aloud.

“Tuesday 11th. Something wonderful happened today, something I didn’t think I was akin to anymore. It seems I have fallen into love with my best friend, I know history repeating itself, but this is far different to a teenage obsession, I love this woman, I love her far greater than anything else in this world, however I’m afraid she will never know. But I’ve waited this long to feel something like this again I’m ok with it staying like this, for now at least.” She said not stopping her ministrations the whole time of reading.

You looked up at her while she read with a twinkle in your eyes and a sleepy smile plastered to your face. Larissa tore out the page and rested it and the notebook on the table and told you to keep it if she can keep yours, she shuffled down and wrapped herself around you and together you both fell into a blissful sleep. This was the first night of many more to come, your last thought was finally, and hers was exactly the same.

[heartstringsduet]

I published around 300k worth of fic this year. Which is…crazy. I also have around 150k that I wrote and haven’t published yet, which is even crazier. I’m so grateful to have had the time to heal and writing and drawing helped a lot with that. As did everyone reading these, leaving a kudo or a comment. I try to write for myself but also who am I kidding, I write for others too, so thanks if you had time to go on one of my journeys with me. I’m so inspired by all of you, honestly! Thank you! 🎉

🚨 First Aid (161 k) - AU / Hurt Comfort /

NYC AU of the both of them meeting shaped by different circumstances, that force them to lie to each other.

⛓️ In this sweet surrender (29 k) - BDSM & Kink Exploration

A vacation is what both of them need to recalibrate after tragedy and as with everything, Carlos is prepared. The bags are packed, his mind filled with every scenario of how to unravel TK completely within three days.

🥄 2AM, Kitchen Floor (23 k) - Angst - 

To TK, the kitchen is a place of joint cooking with his new boyfriend, his friends' laughter, and most of all - dread. - tw: Eating Disorder

🎉 Changed For Good (12 k +) - TK Strand centric short stories

Thirty stories of how TK's life left its marks. Tbc.

⚾ Win or Lose (8 k) - BDSM  PWP 

What if the softball game ended with nothing but TK receiving his rightful reward for winning? What if Carlos ever so slightly tweaked his plans?

👕 It's in the fabric  (2 k) - Fluff

Carlos and TK share a single powder blue sweater. It doesn't go unnoticed.

♥️ You're the cause of celebration (5 k)  - Fluff

Valentine’s Day is cursed for them. Good thing they celebrate February 20th from now on.

⛓ In grief and lamentation (11 k)  - BDSM / Grieving / 3x08

The death of his mother rips the floor out from under TK’s feet. Carlos tries to break his fall, leaning more into their dynamic to guide TK to a safer landing.

🦵🏼 What if he's written 'mine' on my upper thigh? (6 k) - PWP Carlos wears shorts so of course TK needs to sink his teeth into his beautiful thighs and worship every inch of his skin.

🔥 More Than That (4 k) - PWP Carlos and his breeding kink. That’s the story.

📖 In your own words (12 k) - BDSM - Grief and Kink Exploration

Ever since TK's mother died, the fantasies Carlos had allowed to roam free in the past months seem inappropriate. Ever since his mother died, TK struggles to let go and give himself to pleasure. 

🎶 Your shotgun rider 'til the day I die (4 k) - Fluff

Carlos joins his husband for the concert of his life.

🍬 Blink and You'll Miss It (3 k) - 5x01 Coda

A night spent at the station, to try and get closer to finding his father's killer. A night steeped in the compromises and sacrifices a marriage entails.

⚠️ Eyes Wide Shut (3 k) - 5x03 Coda

Carlos always had a sixth sense when it came to TK. But this time, nothing could have happened. Everything was fine.

😎 The Weight of Your Name (2 k) - Undercover AU / Angst

“My real name is Carlos Reyes,” Diego says, voice breathy and wet against TK’s cheekbone. TK stops struggling. “I love you. No matter what, that has never been a lie.”

To Come 2025:

A Few Moons Ago (100 k+) - Werewolf AU

3AM (planned) - Sequel to 2AM 

This Line Of Work - (20 k+) Angsty Canon Alternative Let Me Part 9 & 10

Glee Club AU (4 k+)

Fantasy Soulmate AU (30 k+)

AU Collab I’ll tease you with but won’t share just yet

Tagging some peeps (back): @paperstorm @lemonlyman-dotcom @alrightbuckaroo @ladytessa74

@freneticfloetry @never-blooms @carlos-in-glasses @bonheur-cafe

@welcometololaland @rmd-writes @eclectic-sassycoweyes @liminalmemories21

@emsprovisions @sapphic--kiwi @pameluke @everlastingday @reyesstrand

@strandnreyes @butchreyes @goodways @lightningboltreader @tellmegoodbye

@literateowl @carlossreaders @henrygrass @honeybee-taskforce

@theghostofashton @orchidscript @nisbanisba @irispurpurea

@decafdino

[eridanus-posessed-microwave]

It has been a long couple of days in one of my fandoms. I’m not naming the fandom. I am not naming the authors involved. I am not naming the fics.

Because it doesn’t matter.

In one of my fandoms I came across a fic on AO3. A quite long fic, marked complete.

I thought it would be nice to settle in and read post Christmas festivities.

I think I ruined the Christmas holidays for multiple people by being the bearer of bad news.

You see, straight up, the ‘author’ of the fic mentions that they used parts of other people’s fics and had the fics in the author notes section.

I assumed they meant they had used OC’s and were inspired by them. Strange they hadn’t linked them properly.

I had not even gotten part way through the first chapter and felt sick.

You see those authors? Are all on a discord server with me. I knew well enough they would not have given permission to anyone to copy and paste entire chunks and chapters of their fics.

Four different authors with four different fics.

So I asked politely on the fic if the ‘author’ had asked permission. I also DM’d the authors with a link and a ‘Have you seen this’.

The authors had not.

The ‘author’ proclaimed they ‘tried for a year’ and couldn’t figure out how to contact them.

Me: *slow blink*

Also me: I know at least two of the authors had links to the discord a year ago. I also know that all four authors answer comments regularly.

I have gone back and forth with them- because I was trying to be gentle. It’s the internet- they could be anywhere from 8 to 100 (I do know their age now, since assuming they were younger was insulting.)

I was trying to gently educate that this isn’t ok to do and to offer ways that they could have contacted the authors (and in future can contact authors- mainly leaving a comment in their fics comment section).

One of the authors that I contacted, when she commented, was basically told that ‘I’ll change that one bit’ ignoring all the rest that was copied and used.

The ‘author’ has taken down a couple of chapters and told us we are harassing, belittling and bashing their fic and it’s our fault it’s having parts taken down.

Keep in mind- they said they wrote 2/3 of the fic. Going through it I was recognising my friends fics as huge parts of it up to the last six chapters (of a 25 chapter, 300+k fic)

Which lead me to think.

Maybe people don’t realise that there are unspoken of rules to writing fanfic and inspiring your fics off of someone else’s.

So maybe we need rules actually written out.

Fanfic writing is a lawless place, but I’m pretty sure everyone is going to agree with these.

Rules for writing fanfiction

1: Being inspired by fics is great. Always try to link the fics to yours- on AO3 there is a data field for this.

2: If you want to use a scene etc and build off of it/go in a different direction, ask the author first. Especially if you plan on using part of their writing. We can’t stop you from writing it but it’s polite. Accept that you may be told no.

3: Do not take entire chapters and copy it word for word. It’s plagiarism. If you are doing it to multiple fics in one story, you will end up with contradictory scenes.

Changing one or two words out of an entire scene or chapter, or changing a single sentence does not make it yours. It is still plagiarism.

4: If you know a character is an OC, ask permission. Accept that you may be told no.

Remember: No answer is not consent.

5: AO3 has a lovely comment function where you can ask things of authors. If the author you want to ask things of has comments turned off, accept that they do not wish to be contacted and accept that no contact does not mean do what you want. No contact means no permission.

6: Consent is sexy. If you want to do anything with someone else’s work, you ask. This includes using any part of their written words, any of their OC’s. This includes podfics and translations and to a certain point, art.

A: Podfic. It’s always good to ask- again acknowledging you may get a no- or be told it is fine so long as it is not done by ai- or uploaded via any place that came make money off of it.

B: Translations. This one is a tricky one. Some authors will be fine and some will not. The issue stems from translations not being word for word and some concepts being lost in translation. I acknowledge it is great to have fics in multiple languages however I also acknowledge that it is a lot of hard work between the translator and the author to ensure there is nothing lost. Not all authors have the bandwidth to do this, especially on fics that can be a few hundred thousand words.

C: Art. Most fic writers are fine with fan art. It’s only here because someone is going to bring it up. If an author has ‘fan art welcome’ go for it and post using the inspired by thing on ao3. If they don’t- ask. It’s likely a yes but everyone has their comfort levels and it’s still polite.

There are probably more but honestly? It’s fanfiction. It’s a lawless place held together with strings and ideas. It’s made on playing in other peoples sandboxes.

Just please, remember that people’s OC’s aren’t public property unless stated otherwise- and don’t blatantly copy other people’s work.

Someone will realise it feels familiar and we are fandoms. We don’t tend to forgive and forget when it comes to the big things.

And yes, it is an odd feeling to write ‘don’t use other authors OC’s without permission’ while also saying it is fine to write established characters that are from various forms of media. The difference is honestly a respect thing. Think of fandoms as sand boxes with a few toys scattered in. Anyone can play with those toys. If someone brings their own toys to play, you don’t just take them without asking.

I’m going to likely never post another tumblr post. I’m asking please don’t go looking for the author or the work. I don’t want them to continue to pull the harassment/bullying/bashing card. Which honestly led me to asking on two discord servers if my responses were bashing anything (no they weren’t. So at least I don’t feel like a bully on top of being the bearer of bad news).

Now it’s time for Eli to take over for a bit. Everyone needs a half feral, under socialised hellhound teen in their head (you don’t want him. He likes stabbing people and eating hearts).

Just remember.

No means no.

Consent is sexy.

The absence of a response is not a yes.

[bruh-changbin]

sweet tooth

pairing: park jay x waitress!afab reader

genre: smut, minimal fluff (minors dni)

warnings: oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (be safe), public sex, creampie, finger sucking, minimal food play, lots of mentions of food, brief mention of male masturbation, jongseong is kind of a big desperate loser, lmk if i’m missing anything

word count: 6.7k

a/n: writing this killed me idk why it took fucking forever dawg. but hey, i’m finally giving you all an enha fic without a depressing ending!!! here’s a fun drinking game to play while you read this: take a shot every time jay says a variation of ‘uhhh’ (you will die) ALSOOOO this is for my bae’s @k-ingzo @lix-ables thank you guys for hyping me up to write this bc if you didn’t I’m 90% sure I would’ve scrapped it 😻 LOVE YAAAAA

waiting. 

the most painful game one can be subjected to.

seconds stretch into minutes stretch into hours and soon enough the whole concept of time is but a mere social construct that holds no real value. 

surely his coffee’s gone cold by now. 

the view from the window to his right has progressed from one filled with gold, yellow and orange to one filled with blue, black, and indigo. one by one the neon signs of nearby businesses have flickered on to attract the nighttime crowd. 

he tries to ignore the way his heart is sinking in his chest, much like the way he himself is sinking deeper and deeper into the red vinyl cushion of the booth he’s seated in. the overhead speakers have been blaring elvis for the past half hour and he wants to scream and smash a plate on the floor in frustration. if they play hound dog one more time i swear i’m gonna-

jennifer. 20. single. 2.3 km away. her bio read: only swipe right if you like puppies!!!!!

he does like puppies and found her to be quite pretty, so he did as he was instructed. his heart did a small flip in his chest when his phone screen lit up reading ‘it’s a match!’. he got to talking to her and things were going smoothly. well, at least he thought they were. now he’s alone in a booth constantly refreshing their online chat with some sliver of hope that she may still be coming. the same three messages stare back at him:

[5:17 pm] jay : hey! I got here a bit early so i’m just waiting in the car. let me know when you get here and we’ll go in together.

[6:03 pm] jay: it started getting busy so i snagged us a booth, i hope that’s ok… anyways, i’ll see you soon.

[6:49 pm] jay: hello?

whatever, her loss. fuck dating apps.

and fuck jake sim for making him sign up for one.

maybe tinder just isn’t for him. maybe he needs to find love the old fashion way: bumping into someone on the street; locking eyes across a crowded room; both of you reaching for the last bottle of wine at the grocery store and then just insisting that the other takes it. you know, the kind of shit you see in movies.

the only thing is he’s tried the old fashion way for years to no avail, with tinder being his last resort. things like these take time, he tries to remind himself. you can’t rush love, that’s the magic of it!

but now, seated in a booth at an obnoxiously retro themed diner with his head hung low, he has lost all faith in love. he picks up the porcelain mug to his right and downs the dark liquid; cold, just like his heart. 

he should just leave. i mean it’s obvious at this point that he’s been stood up so he should just head home where the teasing and nagging from jake that will bruise his ego even more is iminent. there comes a time in life where one must accept defeat and move on with-

“would you like a top up, sir?”

a sudden interjection from a saccharine voice to his left is what pulls him out of his trance of self pity. woah, hello you. 

it’s been a long time since he’s been rendered speechless, but you do that to him. you, looking like someone who should be on the cover of a magazine as opposed to serving coffee in a diner. a white button down hugs your torso in all the right ways and he’s envious of the red apron that’s tightly wrapped around your waist because that should be him. the blue ballpoint pen tucked behind your ear somehow makes you 10x more attractive and he can feel his throat close up at the sight of you. 

your skin looks smooth and your lips look plump and thank fuck jessica bailed on him because now all he can think about is bending you over this very table and fucking you raw. top up? more like top me, please!

the glint of the gold name tag pinned onto your shirt catches his eye and he reads it: y/n. pretty.

he notices your eyes shifting around anxiously and reality comes crashing down on him. stop drooling over her tits and answer the question you perv. focus!

“i u-uhhh yes, uh yes please that’d be great,” he stutters out embarrassingly, prompting you to bend over and refill his mug with steaming hot coffee from a pot that you hold with a perfectly manicured hand. 

“can i get you anything else while you…” your eyes dart to the empty seat across from where he’s seated, “wait?”

god this is so embarrassing. now the cute waitress thinks he’s a fucking loser who got stood up (that is exactly what happened). could this day get any worse? he was just about to leave, spare himself from more agony when you waltzed into his life and made his brain a complicated, frazzled mess. 

“uhmm no that’s ok,” he’s trying very hard not to trip over the simplest of words, “just the bill would be great.”

you nod, about to turn around and head over to the register when jay speaks up again in an attempt to preserve his image. 

“it was supposed to be a-a work meeting,” he starts while motioning to the still empty spot across from him, “but my uh….. business partner… couldn’t make it, so..”

he’s lying. you know he’s lying. someone waiting for their ‘business partner’ to show up wouldn’t be checking their phone every 1-3 minutes while intermittently wiping their clammy palms on their slacks every time the doorbell jingles and a new customer enters.

but he doesn’t need to know that, so you paint on an understanding smile before heading over to the diner counter, sparing him one final glance over your shoulder.

it’s a sad sight to see; a handsome boy patiently waiting for someone who’s clearly not going to show up. so you bring him a slice of red velvet cake dolled up with cream cheese icing and waive the two cups of coffee that were tacked onto his bill for the evening.

“it’s on the house,” you practically whisper into his ear while placing a comforting hand on his sturdy shoulder.

“oh!” his voice cracks, “t-thank you so much i-” he calls, but you’re already walking away to assist another table.

his hand instinctively reaches to where yours was placed on his shoulder only moments ago. he could sense the warmth radiating from your palm, feel the stray hairs of your bangs tickle his ear, smell the artificial strawberry scent of your lip gloss. 

either someone decided to crank the heat up in the diner or he’s becoming extremely flustered (it’s the second one). he scoffs down the cake you left him with flushed cheeks and tight pants, visions of himself prying your legs open and indulging in something sweeter plaguing his mind. 

with a hefty sigh he throws on his coat before making his way out of the diner and into his car that’s parked right out front. from behind his windshield he watches as you greet a group of other customers before turning his keys in the ignition and peeling out of the parking lot.

he doesn’t even make it home before he’s pulling into an empty parking lot and jerking himself to the thought of you and your work uniform and your glossed lips.

covet. desire. yearn for. crave.

all very real tertiary emotions that park jay would use to describe his current feelings towards you - a server who he spoke to for two minutes max and now can’t seem to move on from.

unsurprisingly, jake teased the fuck out of him for getting stood up in the way that friends do. but he doesn’t know that jay views his failed date as a complete success. 

albeit he is still mildly salty over the fact that he got stood up, all negativity is washed from his brain the moment he pulls into the familiar parking lot in front of the familiar diner and he feels the familiar pitter patter of his heart quickening its pace from behind his ribcage. 

he tried to hold off on returning the literal day after he was just there, he really did, but he simply couldn’t bear it. the urge to see you, to observe you interacting with other patrons to know if you’re nice to everyone or if he got special treatment is too strong to ignore. it’s for science! he assures himself.

the dulcet jingle of the bell as he opens the door to the diner rings in his ears, and he waits to be seated. the hostess that shows him to a booth similar to the one he was in yesterday is pretty, but she’s not you. only then does jay realize that the possibility of you not having been scheduled to work today is very real. this is only worsened by the fact that he decided to come in the late morning today as opposed to the evening like yesterday. stupid, stupid, stupid!!!

while feeling like a complete and utter idiot he decides to get to work, whipping out his journal, writing utensils and laptop for the sake of not looking like a weirdo. what kind of person goes to a diner and just…. sits there. he’s gotta keep up a facade. 

things are starting to look grim for jay as he sits and works and waits for the object of his desire to appear in front of him. while the retro cat clock on the wall continues its relentless ticking he attempts to swallow down his dismay. 

alas, the universe must be on his side after all for soon enough he catches a glimpse of you through his peripherals. yes! you seem to be a little frazzled, gnawing on the inside of your cheek before grabbing a mop to clean up the chocolate milk that a toddler has decided to decorate the floor with; your shift must have just started. 

he keeps his head hung low while intermittently scribbling in his journal or scrolling on his laptop, opting to steal an occasional glance as you assist a plethora of other patrons. the coffee he was served upon his arrival is starting to go tepid, much like yesterday, and he’s practically praying you’ll soon stride over and ask if he needs a top up. 

“more coffee…” you pause briefly, “jay?”

hold up, how’d you learn his name? 

his brow quirks upwards in confusion and with your hand - the one that’s not holding a boiling pot of coffee - you point to his leather bound journal that’s splayed across the table, opened to the first page. property of park jay is scrawled across the top in his sloppy handwriting akin to that of a first graders. he’s surprised you can even distinguish what it says to be completely honest. 

“ahhh,” he remarks in understanding, smiling ever so slightly because hey, now you know each others names. that’s a step in the right direction.

“were you looking to order something? you know, other than black coffee.”

as if on cue his stomach growls (luckily quietly enough for you to not pick up on it) and he fumbles for the plastic covered menu to his right that slips and slides in his sweaty grasp. 

“i would love to but uhh, i’m not sure what i’m in the mood for… what do you recommend?”

you roll his question around in your head for a moment, “were you thinking sweet or savoury? or if you want both, we make a pretty mean monte cristo.”

at this point if you told jay to walk off a cliff he would do it, so he orders your recommendation without hesitation.

“good call,” you purr before waltzing away from his booth and into the kitchen, leaving jay to erupt in a fit of goosebumps on his own. 

while he waits he busies himself with reading an article on his laptop, getting halfway through before realizing he hasn’t actually been taking any information in the entire time. but can you blame him? his brain is… preoccupied with other thoughts. 

soon enough you’re striding back over to where he’s seated, placing a steaming monte cristo with so much confectioner's sugar on top it looks as if there’s been a mini avalanche in front of him. he thanks you and is about to dig in before he realizes you aren’t leaving. 

“is your business partner coming today?”

…what?

“my business partner? i don’t- OH! fuck, uh y-yes my business partner right! uh no, no he’s not coming today. i usually come here to work on my own though.”

for a moment he forgot about the blatant lie he spilled to you the last time he was here to save face, but he thinks he saved himself with that last bit. 

a playful yet triumphant smirk makes its way onto your face, “that’s funny, i’ve never seen you here before yesterday.”

his eyes widen and his palms become impossibly sweaty. caught in a lie, great.

before he can come up with a witty response you just shoot him a knowing look as you walk away from the booth he’s seated in, your strawberry body spray wafting behind you and infiltrating his senses, rendering him immobile. 

ugh how you make his teeth ache! he longs to douse you in syrup and powdered sugar, drag his hot tongue across your skin as you squirm and twist in pleasure underneath him. he’s sure you’d be sweet enough to give him a cavity. he finishes his monte cristo with gusto and attempts to do more work on his laptop but finds his brain to be far too frazzled to do so.

when he decides to call it quits, he leaves you a hefty tip before driving home with the taste of sugar coating his lips and the inside of his mouth.

over the span of a few weeks the two of you become accustomed to a game similar to the likes of cat and mouse.

he shows up to the diner in the late morning/early afternoon and prays that you’re scheduled for a shift; you usually are. through the course of a few hours jay manages to get minimal amounts of work done while you check on him occasionally, offering your opinions on different menu items and then placing a hand on his shoulder with a laugh when he trips over his words. 

he’s sure you can sense the tension as well, but in case you can’t he keeps his thoughts to himself. you could just be doing your job for all he knows. 

nevertheless, it feels as if all aspects of jay’s life now revolve around you. when he falls asleep at night you’re the last thing on his mind and when he wakes up you’re the first. when he gets himself off he has to think of you or else he won’t feel satisfied, and he can only hope and pray that one day he’ll be able to feel your body against his, the warmth radiating from your body making him feel like a cake in an oven. 

sure he’d love to take you out, shower you with gifts and spoil you by taking you to expensive places that would surely break the bank, but he just can’t seem to push away all of the hardly appropriate thoughts and feelings he harbours towards you. it’s becoming quite an issue, honestly.

he thinks of popping the buttons on your blouse open one by one before diving in, scattering bite marks and bruises across your tits and neck and collarbones as you writhe and plead underneath him. i need more jay, please give it to me…

god you would sound so perfect.

his fantasies don’t stop there though; they never do. he can’t help himself from imagining what it'd be like to reach up your skirt and peel your panties down your legs as if they’re strands of red licorice. he’d go so slow, taunting and teasing you before slipping himself inside of you and feeling your cunt suck him in as if you crave him like oxygen. 

you smell of strawberries and he’s sure you taste like them too. the stripper red polish on your nails would pair so well with the scratches he’s sure you’d leave across the expanse of his back and shoulders. he longs to dig his teeth into your plush thighs like they’re mochi, snapping a picture of his bite mark embedded in your perfect skin to save for later use. 

down bad is an understatement when it comes to jay’s desire for you. infatuation is more like it.

today starts off like every other day. the smell of burnt coffee is what pulls him from his slumbers, and the clock on his bedside table tells him he managed to sleep in until one in the afternoon. when he trudges into the kitchen he sees his roommate and friend jake, who likely also just woke up and still doesn’t understand how to properly operate a coffee machine, staring at his phone. 

it’s then that jake reminds him of the plans they made to spend the afternoon at their friends house playing video games before grabbing takeout for dinner. jay curses his past self for agreeing to these dumb plans with his dumb friends since he was planning on heading to the diner today to marvel at his favourite waitress! oh well, he can still head over for an hour and a half at most before he has to return and uphold the prior promise he made. 

he turns down jake’s offer of a cup of coffee and, after a quick shower, he’s flying out the door.

when he finally makes it to the place where he spends most of his days now he doesn’t even wait to be seated, just slips into the same booth as always and waits for you. the little ritual the two of you have fallen into now so ingrained into his brain he can’t imagine straying from it. alas, it’s decently busy today so he busies himself by scrolling through his instagram feed while waiting for you to grace him with your presence.

when you finally appear in front of him you don’t say anything, just shoot him your usual friendly smile while precariously placing a napkin and mug of black coffee in front of him before leaving as quickly as you came. this sends jay into an emotional spiral. oh god, did i do something wrong? he ponders to himself, brows furrowed as he tries to remember everything he said to you during your last interaction that could have potentially been misconstrued.

only then does he notice the blue ink poking out from the napkin tucked underneath his steaming mug of coffee. with shaky hands he pulls it out and reads the short message written in your refined penmanship:

my shift is done at 10:00 pm.

wait for me? :)

y/n

and just below your neat scrawl he can make out a sticky lip gloss print, a faint hint of the fake strawberry scent that plagues his mind day and night still lingering. 

in this moment he should be happy, ecstatic, victorious even! his constant and obsequious devotion to you has not gone unnoticed, and at long last he’ll be alone with you in a place that doesn’t have checkered tile floors and posters of pin ups on every square inch of the teal coloured walls. but no, all he feels is embarrassment.

embarrassment because he was too much of a wiener to actually do something so you felt the need to take matters into your own hands. and embarrassment because your little napkin love letter signed off with your glossy kiss is making him excruciatingly horny. it’s like he’s in highschool all over again - yikes. 

he glances at the face of the silver watch that he scarcely takes off, the leather wrist strap now feeling uncomfortably tight considering his recent spike in blood pressure. with some reluctance he decides to leave early, tucking your napkin note into his pocket before driving home while barely focusing on the road and cars in front of him.

the hangout with jake and the rest of his friends is excruciating as expected. time seems to both fly by and drag on simultaneously, and he watches the hands on his watch tick down the hours, minutes, seconds until he can finally be with you - alone. when jake finally throws the towel in jay all but runs out of the door, speeding down the now far emptier city streets before pulling into the dining parking lot and waiting (he’s 23 minutes early).

with every passing minute his heart rate quickens and, when the time reads 10:06 pm, he thinks he’s going to faint when he sees you exit your place of work and scan the parking lot briefly before making your way over to his car. the sound of his passenger side door opening feels far off as he tries to make sense of the fact that you are about to be in his car, right beside him. what the fuck.

“hi.”

“hi.”

“i like your car.”

“oh, you do?”

“yep. it suits you.”

“really?”

you only nod at this, flashing him a subtle grin before flipping down the sun visor in front of you to tidy up your appearance after a long and tiring shift (he still thinks you look pretty). it feels as if his fingers aren’t his own as he fiddles with the radio while gazing at you through his peripherals, watching as you rub the smudged mascara from underneath your eyes before applying a final coat of the lip gloss that he loves oh so much. how on earth is he going to last longer than 5 minutes without falling at your feet?

“sooo what do you wanna do?” jay questions, unsure if his eagerness to hear your response is because he’s genuinely curious or because he just likes the sound of your voice.

“you choose, take me anywhere,” you offer with a smile, “surprise me!”

“okay!” he responds, narrowly escaping a voice crack as he shifts his car into reverse.. he has just the place in mind. 

the drive is somewhat of a lengthy one, although you don’t seem to mind. it’s warm enough to have the windows down, and jay greedily gulps down deep breaths of the fresh night air. from your spot in the passenger seat you ramble about your day at the diner, complaining about an old man who held the ketchup bottle the wrong way and promptly squirted it all over you when you came to ask how he was doing. despite all, you still manage to have a positive attitude. 

soon enough he’s pulling off of the main road into an opening surrounded by woods, killing the engine and the car lights and opting to bask in the natural glow of the night sky. 

“wow jay, way to be subtle.”

“what!!?”

“what do you mean what? you bring me to the city’s unofficial official makeout spot and expect me to not be skeptical?”

fuck. for the entirety of the drive over he was hoping that you wouldn’t know about the promiscuous reputation this spot has garnered over the years. he can’t give up this quickly though, he must play innocent!

“i- woahh, is that what this place is? i genuinely had no idea i just-”

“shut it jay, the first thing i noticed about you was that you’re a terrible liar.”

you’ve got him there, deception is not his strong suit. he’s about to explain himself when he notices you unbuckling your seatbelt and stepping out of his car, prompting him to do the same.

“i just thought it would be a nice, secluded space where we could talk and hang out… nothing more.”

silence settles over the two of you and, upon noting jay’s queasy expression, you decide to indulge yourself and tease him (just a little bit).

“what are you trying to say?” you bat your eyelashes and fake being in thought, “that you don’t wanna fuck me on the hood of your car?”

he chokes on his saliva. 

“w-what i’m trying to say is that i’m a uhhhh gentleman. i’m a gentleman.”

yeah right, you think to yourself. a gentleman and a major fucking hypocrite. 

“okay jay, if you’re such a gentleman then why do you have a raging hard-on from literally just talking to me?”

in the pale moonlight you see his eyes widen before he scrambles to cover his crotch, not doing much to conceal his erection that’s straining against his slacks. 

“oh god i’m so sorry i can explain uhh-”

“i’m just fucking with you,” you taunt before petting his hair affectionately, attempting to quieten your giggles while jay plasters on a fake smile even though he looks like he’s about to puke. in an attempt to garner the little composure he has left he turns away from you, the cool night air soothing his heated cheeks. 

from where he’s standing he’s granted an overarching view of the city he calls home. against the nighttime sky he can decipher the suburbs, the downtown area, the cafe district. upon each building there’s a small rectangle filled with yellow or white light, windows in which individual people are carrying out their individual lives; it makes everything seem so… miniscule. i mean, aside from you, nobody even knows he’s up here - and he’s still trying to decipher if that’s a good thing or not, seeing as tonight all he’s done is embarrass himself. 

when he looks back you’re leaning against the hood of his car, your arms folded across your chest which sequentially shoves your tits together in a way that makes him wanna plunge his face in between them and give you a good old fashioned motorboat. 

his thoughts are cut off when you speak up.

 “i brought you something,” you announce before turning and opening the passenger side door of jay’s car, trifling around in your before before pulling something out and heading back to where you were standing before, leaning against the hood of his car. in your hands is a toppled over piece of red velvet cake protected by a clear plastic takeout container coupled with two disposable forks. 

“sorry it’s kinda smushed…. i forgot about it.”

“no, that’s ok!” jay thinks you shouldn’t have to apologize for anything ever, “thank you.”

with a crisp pop you open up the container, moving it to sit in between the two of you before passing jay one of the flimsy plastic forks. he lets you take the first bite, stating that after a long shift you need to get your blood sugar back up. you laugh before complying, watching as jay takes a bite right after you do, his eyes rolling back as all of the sweet, rich flavours dance across his taste buds. despite the piece of cake not being in the best condition, it still tastes like heaven.

jay’s caught off guard when your hand suddenly swoops in just as he’s about to spear another piece of cake with his fork, collecting a dollop of icing on one of your nails. he should’ve seen it coming when you reach up and wipe it on the tip of his nose with a playful laugh.

“wow y/n, so original,” he sneers while wiping the cream cheese icing on his nose onto the back of his hand. 

he attempts to do the same to you, dipping his finger in the thick frosting before moving to wipe it on the tip of your nose, but you suddenly latch onto his wrist. he watches with hungry eyes and an erratic pulse as your tongue comes in contact with his knuckle, licking all the way up to his icing-coated fingertip before taking his digit inside your mouth. the thick muscle of your tongue wraps around his finger, sucking away the sweetness before you pull yourself off of him. a faint pink ring of lip gloss on the base of his knuckle now present. 

fuck me.

not a single word is exchanged before jay pushes himself onto you, prompting you to lean back against the hood of his car that’s still slightly warm. with your body weight resting on your elbows and your legs spreading to accommodate jay’s torso, you finally let him taste you. 

your lips are soft and warm like a pastry fresh out of the oven, and when he pulls away he heaves a heavenly sigh filled with pleasure and contentment and thank fuck this is finally happening. it’s not long before you’re pressing your lips to jay’s again, one of your hands moving up to caress the shell of his ear before resting against his face.

you can feel his jaw move against your palm when he opens his mouth and drags his tongue across your sugar coated lips, inducing you to do the same. when his tongue pushes past your teeth and brushes against yours you groan in pleasure, the fingers previously gracing his face dipping down to undo several buttons of your work shirt. with his lips against yours and his tongue down your throat you can feel him giving into you, as if you’re a delectable piece of his favourite candy and he has a raging sweet tooth. 

when jay pulls himself off of you you think you might just cry. luckily you don’t go without his touch for long, for when you open your eyes you watch him dip two fingers into the frosting on top of the forgotten slice of cake before smearing it across the exposed flesh of your tits and down your sternum. he promptly shoves the two frosting coating fingers into your gaping mouth, gazing at you with heart eyes as you suck them clean. 

only then does he dip his head down, the tip of his tongue teasing the sensitive skin of your right breast before licking the stripe of icing off with one broad swipe of his tongue. he gives your other breast the same treatment before giving it teasing nips and kisses, using his tongue to soothe the pinch of his canines. 

once he licks the rest of the frosting from your sternum he continues his descent, not stopping until the insides of your thighs are brushing against his pierced ears. in one swift movement he flips your skirt upwards, your pretty panties with a subtle wet patch now on display for him and only him.

not being able to resist seeing your bare cunt in all of its glory, jay eagerly digs two fingers into the waistband before dragging the fabric down your legs. your lacy pink thong gets all twisted and tangled around your ankles as jay struggles to pull it off, eventually managing to get it around your sneakers before tucking it into his pocket for safe keeping. 

he feels his pants grow impossibly tights as he stares at you on the hood of your car with your legs spread, quite literally something that could’ve been torn right out of a playboy. without missing a beat jay dives into you, flattening his thick tongue and licking you like he would a dripping ice cream cone. it catches you by surprise and you instinctively tangle your fingers in his ebony tresses, a needy moan making its way past your lips and into the air. jay uses the tip of his tongue to explore your needy pussy, lapping up your juices and revelling in the taste on his tongue. i could die like this he thinks, and he digs his blunt nails into your thighs while shoving his head impossibly deeper. 

it’s somewhat sloppy, but what he lacks in technique he makes up for in enthusiasm. it feels like he’s practically making out with your cunt and you can’t help yourself from tugging on his hair in approval. the groans he emits in response have you shuddering, the vibrations causing your legs to shake and tremble as you struggle to keep them pried open. in your lower abdomen you can feel the pressure of an impending orgasm begin to brew.

this sensation only doubles when jay shifts his focus to your clit, sucking on and toying with it like it’s a sugar-covered gumdrop. his actions have you arching your back off of the hood of his car, eyes squeezing shut as you cry and plead, “p-please don’t stop jay… never stop.”

your pleas boost jay’s ego to the max and he eats you out with unrestrained passion, alternating between sucking your clit and tonguing your hole until you finish all over his mouth with a canorous cry that reverberates between his ears. he hopes to never forget that sound.

with reluctance he pulls himself off of your sweet pussy, having to push your legs apart slightly to free himself from the way they were clenching around his head. he stares at you in awe as you bask in the post-orgasm sensation, mouth agape and chest heaving faintly. your eyes, when you finally pry them open, are slightly glassy and it looks like it takes you a second to come back to earth. 

your grip on jay’s hair loosened but you never fully let go, and soon enough he feels you tugging at his roots in an attempt to get him to hover over you once again. without hesitation you press your lips to his once again, tasting yourself in and on his mouth as you kiss him until you can’t breathe. 

his curious hands never stay resting in one spot on your body for longer than a second before he’s exploring somewhere else, his mouth making a path from your lips down to your jaw and neck. the tips of his fingers finally stop when they reach your hips, gripping onto your and flipping you over so your chest is against jay’s car and your ass is up in the air. 

he can’t help himself from ogling at your perfect form all splayed out for him. the curve of your ass is to die for and jay starts subconsciously unbuckling his belt, easing the strain of his pants against his painfully hard dick. 

from your spot on top of the car you begin to grow impatient. your tits are smushed and your neck is craned and even though you just came you’re already ready for another one if it means you get to feel jay filling you up like a cream puff. luckily, you soon feel the tip of jay’s cock dragging through your folds, your still-sensitive clit throbbing slightly when he bumps into it. the sound of jay spitting into his palm joins that of the crickets and your erratic breathing, soon replaced by his sighs of delight as he strokes his cock with his spit covered hand to help lube it up. 

you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in when you finally feel him prod your entrance with his tip, although you can sense some hesitancy. it’s not surprising when the silence is broken by jay asking: “...are you ready?”

he feels his chest tighten when you make a noise of approval followed by a meek nod, your starry eyes glancing back at him as much as you can in this particular position. with a hefty exhale he nods back before slowly starting to sink into you, a low groan making its way out of his chest as he pushes deeper and deeper until his hips are flush with your ass. 

once fully inside of you he remains stagnant for a moment, needing to adjust to how incredibly warm and tight you feel if he wants to last longer than three seconds. soon enough he feels he’s garnered enough collectedness to start moving, so he does. 

his movements are small, almost timid at first. like he’s testing the waters, garnering enough confidence to go harder, faster. your hushed whimpers of pleasure ring in his ears and he teasingly rolls his hips in an attempt to have you feel him impossibly deeper inside of you. 

“j-jay!” you cry when he seemingly bumps your g-spot with the tip of his cock, the muscles of your waist tensing up when he does. wanting to provide you as much pleasure as possible he continues his ministrations, not altering them in any way out of fear of doing something wrong. 

jay feels his stomach start to seize up as a pleasurable burn takes hold in his lower stomach, his vision blurring slightly at the edges as he shifts between groaning aloud and biting his lip so hard he’s worried he’ll break the skin and draw blood. with exercised caution he picks up the pace, ensuring that in this moment you’re still feeling as good as he is. 

his cock slips in and out of your desperate, dripping hole with ease, your hips banging against the unyielding metal hood of his car with each and every thrust. it’s hardly comfortable, but at this moment in time you think you’d rather die than have jay stop - so you persevere. 

“god you’re so good jay, so fucking big,” you praise as you feel your second orgasm of the night approaching steadily. most of your limbs have started to go numb from the position you’re in yet you can feel each and every nerve end slowly begin to burn up, to bring you closer and closer to release. when jay reaches down to toy with your aching clit, you’re done for. 

the slight ache from the way your cunt is stretched around his cock adds to the jolting sensations that come every time he bumps your clit has you so close, so close you can taste the sweet promise of an orgasm dancing on the tip of your tongue. jay feels it too, for he throws all inhibitions to the wind and fucks you from behind with no restraint. 

he can feel his release creep up his spine and spread through all of his limbs until it’s all he can see, taste, and feel. groans continue to spill past his lips as white hot light floods his senses and a blinding orgasm washes over him, which is only strengthened by the sensation of your pussy clenching around his cock as you finish underneath him. he cums inside of your wanting cunt, filling it up to the brim before collapsing on top of you with a grunt. 

seconds turn into minutes and the two of you remain in place, breaths and pulses struggling to return to normal as you come down from an intense high. jay can feel his shirt clinging to his sweaty back, and he scrambles off of you when he realizes he was quite literally resting all of his weight on you.

with a helping hand he helps you sit up, chuckling slightly when your knees turn to jello when you try to stand up. so, you opt to stay seated on the hood of jay’s car for just a few more moments, patting the spot beside you to get him to sit down. you’re sure you look like a mess, but jay gazes at you with something that can only be described as awe.

smitten. captivated. enraptured. allured. 

the pale light of the moon casts a heavenly glow across your face, and he kisses your lips like they’re covered in strawberry syrup. 

a/n: tumblr’s editing system is the biggest piece of garbage i am so sorry if there are any weird glitches or anything but i am literally seconds away from whipping my laptop at the wall out of frustration as i edit this so pls lmk if anything looks weird when this posts lawl thank you

[sineala]

Are there ANY stony/Star Trek AUs?

Okay. Um. I'm just going to assume this is a legitimate question and not actually a way to express frustration about my progress on the sequel I am writing (I stared at this ask for a while), so I will just conclude that you must have missed the Steve/Tony Star Trek AU I wrote, um, back in 2016:

Straight on till Morning (109848 words) by Sineala Chapters: 6/6 Fandom: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Avengers (Comics) Rating: Explicit  Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply  Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark  Characters: Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Carol Danvers, Janet Van Dyne, Hank Pym, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Clint Barton, Donald Blake (Marvel), Jocasta (Marvel)  Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, Action/Adventure, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pining, Angst, Secret Identity, Identity Porn, Sex Pollen, Fuck Or Die, Caves, Sex In A Cave, Technobabble, Happy Ending, Cap_Ironman Big Bang 2016, Community: cap_ironman, Podfic Available  Summary: 

Tony Stark resigned his commission in Starfleet five years ago, after a disastrous away mission, and he swore he'd never go back. He just wants to be left alone to build warp engines in peace. But the universe has more in store for him than that, as he discovers when Admiral Fury comes to him with an offer he could never have expected and cannot possibly refuse: first officer and chief engineer aboard the all-new USS Avenger, a starship of Tony's own design. What's more, the Avenger's captain is Steve Rogers, hero of the Earth-Romulan War. Believed dead for over a century, Steve is miraculously alive... and very, very attractive. 

But nothing is ever easy for Tony. As he wrestles with his secret desire for his new captain and his not-so-dormant fears, another mission starts to go wrong, and Tony becomes aware that Steve has secrets of his own -- and the truth could change everything.

So, yeah, if you actually haven't read that one, that'll keep you busy for a while. It's a Trek fusion with comics Steve/Tony, set in the era of the later TOS movies. (This is important so that you can picture the correct uniforms, and also because it actually matters that the events of Star Trek II, III, and IV have happened.) It was a Big Bang fic, so it's got some great art by Ran and Phoenix -- embedded in the story -- and also M_Samro made a really amazing podfic of it, if you like podfics.

For a charity auction in 2017, I promised I would write a sequel, and I plotted the whole thing out and started writing this extremely epic sequel, which was unfortunately, about a plague threatening the galaxy, and I got about 120,000 words in and then 2020 happened and I decided I needed to not be writing it right now. So it went on an extended hiatus.

But the good news is that I've actually gotten back to it! I picked it up again last month and I've put 40,000 more words in it since then and at this exact moment I am currently working on the last scene of Chapter 4 (out of six total)! I swear it is happening! I've been putting in about a thousand words a day for the past month! It is really happening this time! The sequel is coming! I promise! I know it has been years but it's happening!

See? It's happening! (I would include a screencap of the part that is happening, but all of Chapter 4 is pretty spoilery.)

So that will exist! Someday! I mean that!

And if you're asking about Steve/Tony Star Trek AUs by people other than me, there are some! If you filter the AU - Star Trek Fusion tag by Steve/Tony, there are 25 matches. Several of them are related to my fic (remixes, art) but there is some stuff that isn't my fault! I haven't read a lot of them because I was trying not to read things that seemed like they might be similar to mine while I was plotting my series here, and also I have never finished watching DS9, so I skipped the DS9 ones.

Under Stars by vulcanscully: A fun fusion that I thought was interesting because Steve is an ensign and that's not how this usually goes.

Discovery of the Century by DepressingGreenie: More 616 in flavor than a lot of the Trek AUs, this is basically Finding Steve In The Ice but Make It Star Trek. As far as I am concerned, Finding Steve In The Ice is great every time.

and so we rebuild by raeldaza: I'm probably biased because this one was inspired by my fic, but I also really enjoyed this one for not being how these things usually go. A lot of Trek AUs in many fandoms are written through a TOS/AOS kind of lens and will often do a Kirk/Spock thing and make one of them a Vulcan or half-Vulcan. In this one that's Tony, but also he's a terrible Vulcan! He's found a new way to disappoint his father!

Stellar Love Affairs by AvengersNewB: I honestly had never imagined a Star Trek fusion that was also A/B/O but I think it really works here! It's like bringing pon farr full circle.

Xenophilia by Captain_Panda: Captain_Panda has several Trek AUs but I am reccing this one because it's the longest. And also the whumpiest. Everyone loves some good away-mission whump!

So there you go! Live long and prosper! I promise I am still writing this Star Trek AU sequel!

[inevitably-johnlocked]

A-Z Sherlock Fan Fiction Tropes Bingo

Ahhh, so I saw this Fanfiction Bingo Card by @swissmissing going around, and even though I wasn't ever tagged, I wanted to do some recs of my own because, like, that's my whole brand LOL. I hope no one minds...🙃 I needed to have a list ready for this Sunday, and this was perfect, LOL.

And because I'm always trying to overachieve on these challenges, I'm going to do full black out, BOTH tropes in each square.

This will be a Combination of my read fics and "to read" fics [to fill in spaces I don't have tags for], which I will append the latter with (MFL) just like so, for those of you who only want fics I've personally read. And apologies, I had to remove some of my standard links to fit them all within Tumblr's link limits, so author names aren't clickable AND I've removed all series' links, so be sure to check out other stories by the authors!!

AND FINALLY, this is a rare list that I DON'T have in word-count order, just so y'all know! I hope you guys like the fics I've pick for y'all. Literally random picks from my lists, based on tag searches, LOL.

AU: A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada & ShinySherlock (E, 125,492 w., 23 Ch. || Historical Pirates AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Doctor John / Pirate Captain Sherlock, Sailing, UST / RST, Masturbation, Action / Adventure, Mild Angst & Peril, Romance, Shaving, Molly/Janine, Bottomlock, Hand / Blow Jobs, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Mild Violence, Facial Shaving, Happy Ending) – Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship's surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there's more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin' the eye, he has to choose... is it a pirate's life for him?

Amnesia: I Need You To See Me by Mssmithlove (E, 12,625 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, Amnesia, Soldier!John) – After going back to war, John is yet again invalided home, this time with a broken ankle and a chunk of his memory missing, unable to recall the last five years he's spent being Sherlock Holmes' partner and husband. Part 9 of Happiness Awaits

BDSM: Lock and Key Series by 221b_hound (E, 59,509+ w. across 14 works || Series WiP || Post-HLV, Tattoos, First Kiss/Time, Anal, Hand Jobs, Captain John, Cuddling, Sherlock's Scars, Possessive Johnlock, Exhibitionism / Voyeurism, Frottage, Blow Jobs, Masturbation, Sherlock in Panties, PWP, Dirty Talk, Sexual Fantasies, Restraints, Photographs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Light BDSM, Assorted Kinks, Sherlock in a Sheet, Sex on Furniture, Domestic Fluff) – John has been back at Baker Street for a year, following the debacle that ended in Mary's death. Things are good. Back almost to what they used to be. Sherlock might wish they were something else, now, but he only has himself to blame, he thinks. It's too late, now, for the things he first denied before he'd ruined any chances he might have had. Sherlock also thinks that people who get tattoos are idiots. But perhaps he's about to learn a thing or two, not least of which might be it's not as late as he thinks it is.

Bodyswap: Inexplicable by emmagrant01 (E, 34,664 w., 6 Ch. || Body Swap, TSo3, Magical Realism / Artifacts, Infidelity, Angst) – So what was in that matchbox, anyway? John and Sherlock find out, the hard way.

Crossover: Perdition's Flames by i_ship_an_armada (E, 63,435 w., 21 Ch. || Star Trek Fusion || Established Relationship, Genetic Engineering, Angst & Fluff, BAMF!John) – Sherlock would do anything to save him. Risk anything. Give anything. His money, his life. His soul. What he does, though, is change both of their destinies forever. Genetic re-engineering is the only option left. It turns out researchers underestimated the life expectancy and potential abilities of genetically re-engineered subjects. The British government and what would eventually become the United Federation of Planets, however, had not. Part 1 of PF Universe

Crack: Fucking Cake by Random_Nexus (E, 12,965 w., 1 Ch. || Pre-Slash, Humour/Crack, Inanimate Object Smut, Frottage, “For a Case” / “Experiment”, PWP / Kinky, Mutual Pining, Fluff) – Sherlock brings home a chocolate cake, John finds him about to have sex with said cake, then exceedingly weird hijinx ensue. Part 1 of "Fucking Baked Goods" - Sherlock BBC

Domestic: Back to the Start by slashscribe (M, 14,088 w., 1 Ch. || Sherlock’s Violin, Pining Idiots, Fluff, Domestics) – Sherlock hasn't played the violin since John's wedding (which is long since over), and when John returns to 221B, Sherlock relearns the violin as he and John relearn each other. Post S3 fic with an obscene amount of pining, idiocy, and attempts to pawn off tea duties.

Disability: Breakable by MissDavis (E, 117,627 w., 34 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Established Relationship, Major Character Injury, Fluff/Angst, Depression, Paralysis/Disabilities, Hurt/Comfort, POV Sherlock, Mental Health Issues, Drug Use, Happy-ish Ending) – After John is seriously injured, Sherlock struggles to figure out how to help him, keep himself sane, and maybe, just maybe, get their life back to the way it's supposed to be. Part 1 of Breakable Not Broken

Established Relationship: Caught In The Act Series by ShirleyCarlton (E, 9,217 w. across 7 works || Established Relationship, Unintentional Voyeurism, Alternate POVs, Humour, Blow Jobs, Walking in on Someone, Switching, Public Sex) – This is a series of six scenarios written from the points of view of six different people as they accidentally walk in on Sherlock and John having sex.

Enemies to Lovers: Synchronicity by Calais_Reno (T, 46,424 w., 10 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Case Fic, POV John, Bullying, Coming Out, Forgiveness, Drinking/Bars, Boarding School, Drunk John) – John and Sherlock meet again, years after they were school boys together. John hasn't forgotten why he still hates Sherlock Holmes. (MFL)

Future: Uncharted Territory by J_Baillier (T, 19,603 w., 4 Ch. || Dystopian Future / Black Mirror AU || Alternate First Meeting, Angst, Drama, Homophobia, Bisexuality, Technology, Humour, Romance, Near Future, Happy Ending) – The System puts people through a series of assigned relationships in order to determine who their Perfect Match is. John believes that it works; Sherlock really, really doesn't. One of them is probably going to be wrong.

Fluff: A Lifetime Together by LondonGypsy (M, 8,886 w., 1 Ch. || Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Falling in Love, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Pining Idiots, Alternating POVs, Domestics, Retirement) – John and Sherlock falling in love.

Gen: Octopus by glass_rose_paperweight (G, 705 w., 1 Ch. || Established Relationship, Fluff, Bed Sharing, Limpet Sherlock) – A week after Sherlock and John finally get together, and John is finding sharing a bed with Sherlock Holmes to be ... difficult, sometimes. If not downright suffocating.

Genderswap: Cockscomb by birdie7272 (E, 115,302 w., 32 Ch. || Femlock / Gender Swap || Light Dom / Sub, Sensual Play, Cocks, Lace, Safe Words, Pining Sherlock, Case Fic, Truth or Dare, Slow Burn, Feminism, Relationships, Sexuality Crisis, Cheating, Power Play, Manipulation, Control) – Lace, whiskey, and a case full of cocks leads to a brand new kind of adventure. AKA The One With All The Cocks… When There Are No Cocks (MFL)

Historical: Enigma by khorazir (M, 289,667 w., 23 Ch. || Codebreaker / WWII / Imitation Game-Inspired AU || Case Fic, Espionage, Period-Typical Homophobia / Sexism, Pining Sherlock, Inexperienced / Virgin Sherlock, Implied / Referenced Drug Use, Non-Graphic Violence) – It’s the autumn of 1941, war is raging in Europe, German U-boats are raiding Allied convoys in the Atlantic, the Luftwaffe is bombing English cities, and the cryptographers at Bletchley Park are working feverishly to decode their enemies' encrypted communications. One should consider this challenge and distraction enough for capricious codebreaker Sherlock Holmes. But the true enigmas are yet waiting to be deciphered: an unbreakable code, a strange murder, and the arrival of Surgeon Captain John H. Watson of the Royal Navy. (MFL)

Humour: Equine Arse Anonymity by Kayjaykayme (E, 3,834 w., 1 Ch. || Established Relationship, Public Sex, Coming in Pants, Humour, Halloween, Hand Jobs) – Sherlock needs to speak with suspects at a fancy dress ball. He chooses a couple's costume for himself and John. It is logical, practical and well thought out. John doesn't agree and exacts sweet revenge.

Illness: Only To Be With You by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (M, 40,768 w., 4 Ch. || Black Mirror / Future AU || Character Death, Future Technology, Sickness/Cancer/Illness, Heavy Angst with Happy Ending, First Person POV John, Pining John, Heart-Wrenching Angst, Promise of Forever) – I tell myself that next time I’ll come near this same place again. Wait around for the mysterious stranger in his coat to dash past me, hot on the heels of a new criminal in black. I think this all the way back to my Exit, planning where I’ll wait and what I’ll say when I see him. Scheming on how to get his name. It’s only once I reach the Exit Point door that I realize two hours and forty-five minutes have passed, and I realize that this won’t be the last time I Visit. It won’t be the last time at all.

Imprisonment: THERE BUT FOR THE GRACE OF JOHN WATSON by skyefullofstars (T, 110,758 w., 24 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Angst, Violence, Whump, Nightmares, Murder, Drug Addiction, Torture) – While Sherlock grapples with his new-found feelings for John Watson, he faces a very real threat: John's kidnapping and shooting at the hands of James Moriarty. And the knowledge that the love of his life is being used to test an addictive drug - at the risk of John's sanity and life. Prequel to THE BOYS OF BAKER STREET. Part 1 of THERE BUT FOR THE GRACE OF JOHN WATSON

Jealousy: The High Tide Series by stardust_made (E, 15,269 w. across 3 works || OMC, Angst, Jealousy, Developing Relationship, First Time, Romance) – A little favour Sherlock stupidly agrees to do for Mycroft leads to John meeting a handsome, afluent man, who is going out of his way to woo him. Sherlock struggles with the situation and with his own reactions to it.

Jilted: Love Is Series by SilentAuror (E, 36,903 w. across 2 works || Post S3, Alternating POV Each Story, Angst, Unrequited Love, Rejection then Reconciliation, Romance, Mary Divorce, Eventual Happy Ending) – At Mrs Hudson's urging, Sherlock finally decides to tell John how he feels about him.

Kids: The Baker Street Nativity by SwissMiss (E, 99,662 w., 23 Ch. || Nativity! AU || Teacher Sherlock / TA John, Pining, Sherlock POV, UST, Angst, Christmas, Music/Song Fic, Anal / BJ’s, First Kiss / Time) –Fusion between Sherlock (BBC) and Nativity! (2009 movie starring Martin Freeman). Sherlock is a primary school teacher and John is assigned to be his classroom assistant. Together, they are charged with putting on the school's Nativity play. What could possibly go wrong? Part 1 of The Baker Street Nativity Verse

Kink: John and Sherlock's Kinky First Times Series by wendymarlowe (E, 247,051+ w. across 45 works || Series WiP || Short Stories, Assorted Tags with Assorted Genres, PWP) – A collection of short imaginings of how Sherlock and John might finally allow their relationship to become physical. Don't be afraid of the giant cloud of tags - each fic stands alone and you can read them in any order.

Long: Free Falling by twistedthicket1 (M, 203,574 w., 38 Ch. || Guardian Angels AU || Guardian Angel John, Fluff and Angst, Humour, Kidlock / Teenlock, Light Mystrade, Passage of Time, Possessive John, Drug Use / Overdose, Victor Trevor, Graphic Bullying, Big Brother Mycroft, Hard Drug Use, Depression, Possessive Sherlock, Possessive John, Panic Attacks, Nightmares/PTSD, Pining, Healing Abilities, Kidnapping, Violence, Torture, Blow Jobs, Virgin John, Emotional Development / Attachment, Mortality, Happy Ending) – All Guardian angels are born with a Chosen human. When this child is born, the angel comes into being to protect and care for them during their life on Earth. For John Watson, all he cares about in the world revolves around his Chosen, Sherlock Holmes. Watching him grow up though, the angel soon learns that God must have had a sense of humour the day he decided to make Sherlock, as trouble seems to follow him like a magnet wherever he goes. John can't decide what's worse, the idea of losing his Chosen one, or the fact that he may be breaking the most taboo law of heaven as he disguises himself as a human to better protect and befriend the beloved detective he's always watched from afar. He was meant to care for him. But what happens when caring evolves into something more? What happens when an emotion an angel is supposed to be incapable of possessing comes to life suddenly and viciously inside John's chest? 

Love Triangle: Isosceles by SilentAuror (E, 56,609 w., 7 Ch. || Post-S4, POV John, Original Male Character / Sherlock Dates Another Man, Love Triangle, Jealous John, Virgin Sherlock, Sexual Coaching, Angst, Romance, Domesticity, Unrequited Feelings, Miscommunication, First Kiss/Time, For a Case, Friends With Benefits, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Spooning) – After solving a case for a major celebrity, Sherlock gets himself asked out. When John asks, he discovers that Sherlock has no intention of going, at least not until John agrees to coach him through whatever he might need to know for his date...

Magical Realism: The Frost Child by twistedthicket1 (M, 9,994 w., 2 Ch. || Frozen-ish AU || Magical Realism, Christmas, Angst, Fluff, Powerful John) – In a world where people are born with a Gift of varying levels, simple John Watson is the last person one might look at when thinking of any strong Magick capabilities. Hiding comfortably in the shadow of Sherlock's brilliant deducing abilities, John is content to keep it that way...

Major Character Death: I Think I've Come A Long Long Way To Sit Before You Here Today by ArwenKenobi (T, 18,251 w., 3 Ch. || Grief/Mourning, Passage of Time, Major Character Death, Alternating POV, Sherlock Whump, Pining Sherlock, Hospitalization, Coma, Revenge Murders, Hallucinations, Love Confessions, Brutal Accident, Mystrade, Ghost John) – One year after John is killed Sherlock starts to wonder whether John has actually gone anywhere.

NSFW: Caves in the Mountains Are Seldom Unoccupied by starrysummernights & TheMadKatter13 (E, 7,925 w., 1 Ch. || Were-Creatures ||  Werebear John, Pseudo Bestiality, Rimming, Dub Con, Rough Sex, Come Inflation / Eating, Size Kink, PWP, Bratty Sherlock, Rutting) – “This isn’t something to play at, Sherlock,” he snapped. “If it doesn’t work out- what you’re asking of me- we can’t shrug and say 'oh well, at least we tried'. If we do this… I could seriously hurt you. Do you understand? I could lose control. I could… I could kill you.” 

Next Gen.: If Equal Affection Cannot Be by blueink3 (E, 31,156 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Family, Retirement, Grown Up Rosie, Angst, Reunion, Loneliness, Sussex, Fluff, Sexy Times, Happy Ending) – Sherlock fled London a couple of years after John left him in hospital with nothing but an old walking stick and a half-hearted goodbye. Rosie grew up thinking that Sherlock died when he committed suicide in front of her father by jumping from Barts' roof. So it's somewhat awkward when they run into each other in a Sussex general store between the loaves of bread and the Mars bars... (MFL)

Omegaverse: A Fold in the Universe by darkest_bird (E, 152,869 w., 26 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Omegaverse / Prime Universe Crossover || OmegaJohn / AlphaSherlock, First Kiss / Time, Friends to Lovers, Established Relationship, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Dubious Consent, Humour) – Alpha Sherlock and Omega John are in a relationship. Prime Sherlock and Prime John are not. So what happens when a freak fold in the universe switches one John for the other?

Only One Bed: The Cure for Snoring by Goddess_of_the_Night (G, 1,278 w., 1 Ch. || Sleepy Conversations, Bed Sharing, Cuddling, Fluff, Domestic, Platonic / Sleepy Cuddles) – Sherlock and John spend the night in Scotland after finishing a case. The sole Inn in town only has one room left...one bed. This would be fine - if not a bit awkward - if Sherlock hadn't developed a habit of snoring loudly. John suffers through many hours of sleeplessness before he discovers that skin-to-skin contact stops the noise. Part 1 of Dreamscapes

Parenthood: Iris by slashscribe (E, 11,948 w., 1 Ch. || Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Post-S3) – Sherlock does his best to make John happy when John comes back to 221B with his new baby after the events of Season 3, but Sherlock has a track record of getting things wrong in this area. This story is an exploration of their gradual shift from friends to lovers, told from Sherlock's perspective, full of a lot of pining and lack of emotional awareness.

Platonic: The Green Blade by verityburns (T, 72,929 w., 15 Ch. || Case Fic, Bromance) – As a serial killer hits the headlines, the police are out of their depth and the next victim is out of time. With faith in Sherlock Holmes at an all time low, this is a case which will push loyalties to the limit...

Queer: Rupert Street by WritingOutLoud (M, 27,262 w., 9 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting || Case Fic, Sexuality, Demisexual Sherlock, Drugging, Smart John, Sherlock Has Internalized Biphobia, Fluff, Angst with Happy Ending, Gay Bar, Flirting, John Manipulates Sherlock to Eat, John Deduces, Arguments, Kidnapping/Torture, Hospitalization, John Whump) – Discharged from the war with nothing but the clothes on his back and a realisation of his bisexuality, John Watson has to learn who he’s become. He can’t afford London on an army pension, but the city is the only friend he has. In an effort to understand his newfound queer identity, he heads to a bar one night, where he stumbles across a mysterious stranger who turns his life upside down. ‘I dug around inside myself, and I'm not quite sure what I found, but it was beautiful and terrifying all at the same time.’

Quest: Licence to Kiss by fellshish (T, 13,739 w., 4 Ch. || Post-ASIB, Sort-Of Bondlock, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Angst and Humour, Bed Sharing) – Sherlock loves John, and John loves... James Bond. He only made Sherlock watch every single film. Tedious. And now John's birthday is coming up. Sherlock can't tell him how he feels, but he can organise an amazing gift: John's very own spy adventure. Sherlock begs Mycroft for a real case with some extra gadgets. And perhaps some actors pretending to be criminals. What could possibly go wrong?

Retirement: Through the Clouds by Mazarin221b (E, 20,004 w., 6 Ch. || Retirement, Sussex, Bees, Home Improvement, First Time, Romance) – Sherlock takes a remarkably early retirement at 47, and convinces John that a change of pace would do them both good. They buy an old cottage on the South Downs, and exchange their nonstop life in Baker Street for quiet contemplation, bee studies, and book writing. They might go completely insane, but sometimes it takes stepping outside of the life you're living to find the life you want. Part 1 of Through The Clouds

Road Trip: Hitting the Water at Sixty Miles an Hour by what_alchemy (E, 30,568 w., 5 Ch. || Fake Rel., Road Trips, Slow Burn, Mummy Holmes) – “You love your mother, Sherlock?” John watched the muscles in Sherlock’s jaw jump. He nodded in one sharp jerk. “Then we’re going to her party and making her happy.” John let out a resigned sigh. “As a ruddy couple, you bastard.”

Soulmates: The Heart On Your Sleeve by flawedamythyst (T, 5,441 w., 1 Ch. || Soulmate AU || Sherlock POV, Heartmarks, Pining, Fluff and Angst, Semi-S1 / S2 Canon Compliant, Reunion) – Sherlock stared at the imperfect circle on his left wrist in horror, then sat down on his bed with a bit of a thump. After over thirty years, his heartmark was finally showing activity. This was not good.

Slow Burn: Tomorrow's Song by agirlsname (M, 24,645 w., 5 Ch. || Post-TRF, POV Sherlock, Angst with a Happy Ending, Virgin / Repressed Sherlock, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Pining, Jealous Sherlock) – How can he think a relationship with me would be a good idea? I am the sort of person to take a break from my life and when I come back after two years, I expect to find it exactly as I left it. In reality I find it shattered to pieces. (I actually equate you with my life. When did I start doing that?)

Teen AU: The Sky is Full of Fiddles by agirlsname (T, 25,659 w., 6 Ch. || 1895 Teenlock || Romantic Fluff, Bed Sharing, Swedish Folk Music, Dancing, Sherlock’s Violin, Poetry, Skinny Dipping, Summer Love, First Kiss, Proposals, POV John, Gay Surprise) – It's 1895 in the heart of Swedish folk music and dance. During certain weekends, boys are allowed to visit girls at night, wooing them with fantastical poems. If a girl lets a boy into her room they can share a bed all night, fully clothed, to talk and eat caramels together. John is seventeen and looking for a girl to marry like everyone else. He's very surprised when another boy suddenly stands outside his door, wanting to share his bed… (MFL)

Time Travel: The Engine by stitchy (T, 8,294 w., 1 Ch. || First Kiss, Post-HLV, ASiP Do-Over, Sci-Fi, Time Travel) – Shortly after the events of His Last Vow, Sherlock has an opportunity to revisit the night of A Study in Pink and get some perspective on the destiny of he and John's relationship.

Undercover: The Skin Over My Heart by standbygo (E, 8,849 w., 1 Ch. || Post-Hiatus, Fake Relationship, Case Fic, Dog Tags, Military, Homophobia, Gay Bashing, POV First Person Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Declarations of Love, Undercover, Haircuts, Flashbacks, Touching, Pining Sherlock, Hospitalization, Metaphors, Introspection, Hand Jobs, On the Couch, John’s Past, Angst with Happy Ending) – Sherlock and John are still trying to adjust to Sherlock's return from his hiatus when John's friend Bill Murray brings them a case. Someone is targeting the LGBTQA+ members of Bill's unit. John and Sherlock go undercover at the unit, but when they end up having to flirt to flush out the suspect, Sherlock realizes he's in over his head.

Unrequited: Love Is Series by SilentAuror (E, 36,903 w. across 2 works || Post S3, Alternating POV Each Story, Angst, Unrequited Love, Rejection then Reconciliation, Romance, Mary Divorce, Eventual Happy Ending) – At Mrs Hudson's urging, Sherlock finally decides to tell John how he feels about him.

Vampires: Bleed Me Out by antietamfalls (E, 87,987 w., 14 Ch. || Vampire AU || Bonding, Vampire Sherlock, Fluff & Angst, Hurt/Comfort, John Whump, Magical Realism) – John isn’t exactly surprised to discover that Sherlock isn't human. His vampirism doesn't pose a problem, even when their relationship gradually grows into something more. That is, until a deadly revelation about John’s blood sends their lives spinning dangerously out of control.

Villain POV: Genesis by pasiphile (M, 19,521 w., 1 Ch. || Graphic Violence, Moriarty’s Past) – Before he was Jim Moriarty, he was just Jimmy, a street kid with more pain in his past and more ambition in his head than he could handle, and only one other person he could bring himself to trust. Part 6 of This Life Is A Trip (When You're Psycho In Love) (MFL)

Whump: Trapped and Upside Down on the M6 by BootsnBlossoms (E, 4,256 w., 1 Ch. || Whump, Car Accident, Hurt / Comfort) – Everything felt wrong. His hair was going the wrong way. His arms were bent in ways he wouldn’t choose to bend them. His neck hurt and he couldn’t really feel his toes. Something was dripping on his face – and rolling up. A car crash. He had been in a car crash.

Werewolves: John Watson’s Moon by patternofdefiance (E, 11,314 w., 1 Ch. || Supernatural Creatures || Werewolf John, First Time, BAMF John, First Time, Anal, Fleeting Depictions of Violence) – Sherlock finds out John is a werewolf and wants to see the transformation. It, uh, gets really kinky.

Xenomorphism: Forest King by Elphen (E, 141,856 w., 27 Ch. || Magical Realism / Omegaverse AU || Mythical Creatures, Group Sex, Body Worship, Drinking / Impairment, Dubious Consent, Anal Fingering/Sex, Transformations / Shapeshifting, Mpreg, BAMF John, Possessive Sherlock, Celtic Mythology, Paganism, Sherlock’s Violin, Frottage, Illnesses, Caring Sherlock, Netherworld/Underworld, Coping Mechanisms, Paternal Lestrade, Defensive John, Big Brother Mycroft, Insecurity, Self-Esteem Issues, Misunderstandings, Mild Jealousy, Pregnant Sex, Male Lactation, Birthing, Emotional Support, Parenthood, Family History) – After falling out with his sister, John ends up in a Cornwall Midsummer’s Eve celebration in the middle of a forest that’s rather…different. After the hazy night of magic and passion with a pale-eyed man, he goes home to London. He’s in for a surprise when his stomach starts growing and buds appears on his head. Not one to just accept things, he returns to Cornwall to demand an explanation. When he meets the forest king, Sherlock, again, he has to come to terms with not only what’s happened to him but what kind of magical world he’s been thrust into. Plus, there’s the questions of whether he trusts the antlered man and how he'll survive being apparently pregnant. Sherlock isn’t much help. That doesn’t mean he isn’t trying to somehow make John understand his feelings, however, even if he’s greatly hampered by being Sherlock. They slowly move forward but problems beyond their control may arise from an act done with the best of intentions. How will they cope, separately and together? (MFL)

Xmas: Our Enthusiasms Which Cannot Always Be Explained by withoutawish (M, 32,961 w., 1 Ch. || Christmas, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Case Fic, Mild Gore, Sherlock Whump) – The list that is tacked haphazardly on the refrigerator of 221B reads, ‘Kidney(s), and/or a full cadaver (preferably male, late 30s, under six feet tall), bag of fresh toes, sixteen cow’s eyes (corneas retained), dual exhaust hand –held flame thrower, an unopened first edition copy of Joseph Conrad’s 'Heart of Darkness', and no less than ten abhorrently gruesome murders in the upcoming month.” The one neatly hanging next to it simply reads, “Sex.” One of these lists is not John Watson’s. If John Watson were to put what he really wanted in list form, to live in a land somewhere beyond ‘almosts' now that Sherlock Holmes has indeed returned to him, he would never be able to look his flatmate in the eye ever again.

Zombies: The Hollow Ones by antietamfalls (M, 100,244 w., 23 Ch. || Walking Dead Fusion || Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Slow Build, Emotional Constipation, Protective John, Hurt/Comfort) – The dead walk. Mangled corpses of the deceased rise and mindlessly feast upon the flesh of the living. John wakes up, alone and confused, into the remnants of a city gone mad. He will search for answers. He will find Sherlock at any cost. And he will learn that the living are far more dangerous than the dead. (MFL)

Zoomorphism: How to Build a Heart out of Ashes by Teumessian (E, 144,931 w., 31 Ch. || Changeling AU || Slow Burn, Drug Use, Mentions of Child Abuse / Bullying, Mentions of Student/Teacher Relations, Uni-Age) – In an AU where a small number of the population become Changelings at a young age, at 17 John Watson believes he's destined for Normal life but then the Change takes him and he is sent to the Baker Institute. There he meets Sherlock Holmes.