#i look at my old works and i'm like “that was me?”

[submattsmxmmy]

roughdom!stepbro!chris x bratty!stepsis!reader

🖤 content warning: smut, stepsibling kink, daddy kink, mentions of porn, posessiveness, praise/degradation, biting, kinda risky, unprotected rough sex

🖤 summary: your stepbrother, chris, gets jealous when he sees you flirting with another man - and not just any man, but one who's nothing like him.

hiiii it's me, @ariestrxsh. if you don't fw the stepcest shit, then idk what to tell you. lmao. don't read this shit. sorry mom, sorry god, and sorry chris sturniolo, if you ever see this deranged, god-forsaken piece of writing.

holdyourbreath

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |

The sun was beginning to descend below the horizon line as Chris turned down his street, indie music playing softly through his speakers.

He didn't think much of the old, beige sedan sitting in the driveway when he got home, except for being slightly annoyed that it was in his spot. He figured you had a girlfriend staying the night who didn't know he always parked there or something.

He let out an agitated sigh as he pulled up beside the curb and cut the engine. He made his way up the driveway with a basketball under his arm and his t-shirt clinging to his sweat-covered chest.

He turned the knob and stepped inside. He cracked a subtle smirk at the sound of your laugh, a noise that once would have made him roll his eyes. He hated that you were secretly growing on him - or maybe he liked it. He wasn't completely sure yet.

The smile on his face faded quickly when he heard a second voice - a man's voice. He quickly made his way into the kitchen, envy already brewing inside of him.

He burst through the door to find you sitting across from a dark-haired boy, batting your lashes and twirling your hair around your finger as you thoughtlessly giggled at every word he said. You jumped as if you were doing something wrong when your eyes flew up and noticed Chris.

You took note of his flushed, pink cheeks, his tired, blue eyes, and his sweaty brown hair sticking to his forehead. You adored the way he looked when he'd just finished up playing basketball or working out, but you didn't let your glance linger for long.

"Hi, Chris," you casually mumbled before turning your attention back to the boy sitting across from you. "Hey. What's up? I'm Josh," the man said, getting up from his chair and extending a hand for Chris to shake.

"You parked in my spot," Chris shot back, peering down at Josh's hand with a look of contempt and silently rejecting his polite gesture.

"Sorry. You'll have to excuse my stepbrother. No one ever taught him manners or how to use the bathroom without getting piss on the toilet seat," you remarked in a snide tone as Chris pushed past him.

"So, uh, what do you think?" Josh asked, redirecting you back to what you two were talking about before Chris interrupted. "I love all your ideas," you giggled, brushing a strand of hair out of your face and licking your lips as you looked at Josh.

The boy across from you may have been oblivious to your flirtatious demeanor, but Chris clocked it right away. "God, could ya be any more fuckin' desperate?" Chris mumbled under his breath as he swung open the door of the fridge.

"What was that?" You wondered, stopping your conversation and turning your attention to your stepbrother who wasn't taking the hint that you wanted to be left alone with Josh, or so you thought.

He actually was getting the hint. He was just blatantly ignoring it.

"I said, what're ya guys workin' on?" Chris asked, but it wasn't so much that he was genuinely curious as much as he was trying to figure out how much longer he was going to have to endure the jealousy of watching you pathetically throw yourself at another man.

"We're working on building our argument for our debate class. We were all paired off, given a controversial topic, and we have to present our arguments next week to the opposing side," you responded, fidgeting with your pencil.

"What's the controversial topic?" Chris asked, a smirk playing in the corner of his mouth. He loved contentious subjects and arguing. "The subject is pornography and whether it's pro or anti-feminist," you replied.

"Oh, yeah?" Chris asked, the topic piquing his interest. "What's your argument, kid?" Chris asked, cracking open a can of Pepsi and leaning against the counter. He was eager to hear your take on the subject.

"Our argument is that it's anti-feminist. It prioritizes male pleasure, gives unhealthy and unrealistic expectations about sex, and it's just overall degrading and exploitative," you casually stated, shrugging your shoulders. Chris scoffed. "Isn't that kinda sexist of you to say?" He shot back, sipping from his Pepsi can.

"What are you talking about?" You huffed back, crossing your arms and glaring in his direction. "Well, isn't it kind of infantalizing to assume that any woman who is in the porn industry is only doin' it because she's bein' exploited? Why can't a woman just become a porn star because she wants to?" Chris asked, sounding rather genuine.

You were at a loss for words, unsure of how to combat Chris' argument. "And what about the girls who like bein' degraded? What about the girls who like watchin' shit like that?" He added.

"What's your point, Chris?" You scoffed. "It's anti-feminist for you to assume that porn only exists for male pleasure when women probably get off to it just as much," Chris stated a valid point before taking a sip of his soda.

"Whatever, Chris. You wouldn't know feminism if it sat on your face," you rolled your eyes, dismissing his comments. "What? You tellin' me you've never gotten off to that shit? Maybe even the rough stuff?" Chris snarked, deviously grinning at you, his eyes scanning you up and down as if he were calculating the exact categories you were into.

Your stare grew wide, and your cheeks grew hot. You couldn't believe Chris was putting you in this position in front of your classmate you were secretly crushing on.

Josh sat quietly, wide-eyed and mouth agape as he listened to the two of you bicker back and forth, astonished that step siblings felt so comfortable talking to each other about hardcore porn.

"Chris! I-," you started to say, but your breath hitched in your throat. "I'm not saying- Look, Chris. We were given a topic and told which side we had to argue for. That's the key to being good at debate, is being able to argue both sides regardless of how you personally feel about the subject. My thoughts on it are completely irrelevant."

"Right, but don't you have to really believe what you're saying to be good at arguing your side? You know my room's right next to yours, right?" Chris shot back, insinuating he knew something. His lips curled into a sadistic smile, knowing he was humiliating you. You huffed and rolled your eyes.

"Chris, can I talk to you in private?" You narrowed your gaze at him. "Yeah, sure. Whatever," he scoffed and rolled his gorgeous, blue eyes.

You excused yourself, and you and Chris headed upstairs. You led him into your bedroom, and you shut the door behind the two of you before you whipped around and glared at him.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" You sternly questioned him. "What the fuck do ya think you're doin'? That guy?" Chris blurted out, surprised that you'd be into such a docile man.

"What? He's a nice guy," you defended Josh. "You don't want a nice guy," Chris chuckled, giving you a dark smirk. "You don't know what I want," you replied. "Sure, I do. I think I know whatcha want better than you do," he cooed, reaching up and softly running his thumb across your bottom lip.

"Chris. I really like him. Please don't embarrass me in front of him," you whispered, giving Chris a somber look. "You'd get bored of him. Bet he could never fuck you as good as I do," Chris purred, stepping closer to you and studying your expression.

"Are you.. jealous?" You wondered, a satisfied grin spreading across your lips. "No," Chris sneered. "Of course I'm not jealous. I just know what ya need better than anyone else." Chris firmly grabbed your jaw and pinned you between the door and his body.

"Chris -" you started to retort, but he cut you off by pressing his lips into yours. You softly moaned into his mouth as his free hand flew to his waistband, pulling his cock free from his shorts.

You immediately felt all your willpower to stop him leave your body, and you relaxed into his kiss. You felt his drooling tip brush against the inside of your thigh as he hiked up your skirt and roughly pulled your panties to the side.

You felt the cool air rush over your exposed heat while Chris ran the head of his cock along your sensitive clit. You shuddered at the sensation. As he slipped it into your entrance, he bit down on the soft flesh of your bottom lip, leaving it swollen and bruised as he slowly pulled away.

"Awh, she's so happy to see me," Chris cooed, smirking up at you as he sunk his length all the way in, feeling the way you stretched around him.

"She thought she was gonna have to settle for that loser downstairs, huh? Don't worry, baby. Daddy's home now," Chris grunted, jerking his hips forward and starting to pump in and out of you at a rough pace as you hooked one leg around his waist.

You threw your head back, and a soft thump sounded as you made contact with the door behind you. A loud moan escaped your lips at the way Chris spoke to you coupled with the way he brutally pounded into you.

He thought about covering your mouth, but a sly smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he imagined the boy downstairs, possibly hearing the two of you. "Can't stay quiet, huh? Is my dick really that good or do ya just really want Josh to know how good I'm fuckin' ya?" Chris chuckled into your ear.

Your eyes rolled back, and a subtle smile crept into your expression. You were too fucked out to even answer him.

"Be a good girl and take it," Chris groaned, leaning in and latching onto your neck. The faint, sweet smell of his natural musk filled your senses, heightening every touch. He began suckling on the soft skin above your collar bone, listening to the pretty sounds that fell from your tender lips.

His fingertips dug into your sides, leaving red prints on your flesh through the fabric of your clothing. You couldn't get enough of the way he manhandled you, the way he touched, licked, and bit at you like it was all that you were good for, marking you up with his perfect teeth while he pounded away.

"You're gonna leave a bruise," you weakly told him, but you said it as more of a lustful observation than a warning or a request for him to let up. You secretly liked the idea of him claiming you as with a hickey in such a visible place, knowing you'd have to hide it from Josh when you got back downstairs.

"That's not the only thing I'm gonna leave bruised," Chris teased you, talking into the crook of your neck. You could already feel the knot forming in the pit of your stomach, a testament to the effect Chris had on you.

Your hands were draped around the back of his neck, clawing at his t-shirt as your legs grew weak. "Daaaddy," your quiet voice trembled like you were talking while driving over a cattleguard due to how mercilessly Chris was fucking you.

"What was that?" Chris inquired through his breathlessness, slowing down his thrusts. "No, no. Please don't stop," you begged through your panting. "Then tell me what you said," Chris murmured, his intense blue eyes locked on yours.

"Nothing," you whispered, feeling your face grow hot from letting that word slip out. You knew you'd never hear the end of it.

"Mhmm. Sure," Chris smirked and narrowed his gaze at you before he went back to his fast, hard movements, bottoming out with every stroke. It didnt take long before you picked up right where you left off, your stomach doing twists and turns as Chris rearranged your guts with his unrelenting cock.

He was going at it so hard that the door was jiggling against the frame and making a sound as if someone was trying to repeatedly open it. Your body started shaking uncontrollably at the whole situation and how Chris didn't care that you had company sitting at the kitchen table. He was going to take you however and whenever he wanted.

"Be a good girl and cum all over daddy's cock," Chris cooed, feeling you begin to rhythmically clench around him. You were fighting for your life, biting back the sensual sounds that desperately wanted to make themselves known as your orgasm tore through you.

The feeling of you finishing onto him caused a ripple effect. His length twitched inside of you, filling you up with his white, sticky cum as he moaned into your ear. He followed it up with a faint chuckle, his breath tickling your neck as he found amusement in how easily you always gave into him.

He pulled himself out of you, leaving his seed leaking onto the inside of your thigh as he did so. "Such a fuckin' slut," Chris teased.

"Okay, don't keep your prude boyfriend waiting too much longer or else he might start suspecting something," Chris winked at you, keeping his voice low. You took a few deep breaths. You tugged down the hem of your skirt, smoothing out the fabric to conceal the mess Chris had made between your legs.

"Chris. Can you please just give me and Josh some privacy while we work on our project?" You asked, considering that was the whole reason you'd asked to talk to him in the first place.

"I'll keep my mouth shut, but I'm not leaving you alone with some other guy. Not a fuckin' chance," Chris answered, his voice thick with jealousy as he bore into your stare with his own.

You spun around, cleared your throat, and popped open the door. Chris delivered a harsh smack on your ass as you stepped out into the hallway. You let out a small squeal and swatted his hand away with your own, but you otherwise ignored his gesture.

The two of you descended the stairs. Chris made his way back over to the fridge to poke around for something to eat. You draped a thick strand of your hair over the red spot on your neck and sucked in your swollen lip as you sat back down across from your classmate.

"Sorry about that. My stepbrother won't be bothering us anymore," you calmly said. "How'd you get him to do that?" Josh asked, furrowing his brow at how quiet Chris was now compared to how loud-mouthed and obnoxious he was being ten minutes ago.

"I have my ways," you replied through a subtle smirk.

(guys don't worry I'll do a part five 💖)

[harrysfolklore]

31st - hs

happy birthday to the one and only love of my life 🥹🥹 31 omg! i hope he has the best day ever <33

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

You woke up early on February 1st, carefully slipping out of bed without disturbing Harry, who was still peacefully sleeping. The morning sun was just beginning to peek through the curtains, reflecting light across his face. At 31, he was somehow even more beautiful than when you'd first met him - a few more laugh lines around his eyes, his curls slightly shorter now, but still undeniably your Harry.

Making your way to the kitchen, you began the birthday breakfast preparations you'd been planning for days. You started brewing his favorite coffee and pulled out the ingredients for the banana pancakes he loved so much.

As you worked, you couldn't help but smile, remembering his 30th birthday last year - the big party, all their friends and family gathered together. This year, though, Harry had asked for something quieter, more intimate. "Just us," he'd said, "maybe dinner with family later."

The sound of footsteps made you look up, and there he was, leaning against the doorframe in his pajama bottoms and that old Rolling Stones t-shirt you loved so much.

"You're supposed to be sleeping," you scolded playfully, whisking the pancake batter.

"Bed was cold without you," he mumbled, voice still rough with sleep. His hair was adorably mussed, and he had pillow creases on his cheek. "Besides, something smells amazing."

"Happy birthday, love," you said softly, abandoning your cooking to wrap your arms around him.

He hummed contentedly, pulling you closer and burying his face in your neck. "Thank you, baby."

"Thirty-one," you mused, running your fingers through his hair. "How does it feel?"

"Honestly?" He pulled back to look at you, his green eyes twinkling. "Pretty much the same as thirty. Though I did find another grey hair yesterday."

You laughed, reaching up to touch the single silver strand at his temple. "I think it makes you look distinguished."

"Distinguished?" He raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress a smile. "Is that what we're calling it?"

"Mhmm," you nodded seriously. "Very sophisticated. Very George Clooney."

"Oi!" He tickled your sides, making you squeal. "I'm not that old yet!"

The pancakes were momentarily forgotten as you both dissolved into laughter, play-fighting in the kitchen like teenagers. Finally, Harry pulled you close again, pressing soft kisses along your jaw.

"You know," he murmured, "this is already my favorite birthday."

"It's barely started!"

"Doesn't matter. I'm here with you, in our kitchen, and you're making me breakfast. What could be better?"

Your heart swelled with love for this man who could find joy in the simplest moments. "Well, it might get even better when you see your presents."

His eyes lit up like a child's. "Presents? But you said we weren't doing big gifts this year!"

"And we're not," you assured him, turning back to the pancakes before they burned. "Just a few small things. Though..." you paused for dramatic effect, "there might be tickets to that vintage guitar show in Nashville you were talking about."

Harry's gasp of delight made you laugh. "Really? The one with the '59 Les Paul?"

"Maybe," you sang, flipping a pancake. "You'll have to wait and see."

He wrapped his arms around you from behind, watching you cook. "Have I told you lately that you're the best wife ever?"

You felt your cheeks flush at the word 'wife,' still not quite used to hearing it spoken aloud. After nearly a year of marriage, it was still your precious secret, shared only with family and closest friends. The ring on your finger was usually hidden away in public, and you'd both become experts at careful wording in interviews.

"Shh," you teased, though your heart fluttered at his words. "The walls might have ears."

Harry chuckled, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. "You know, I've been thinking about that actually."

"About what?" you asked, sliding the last pancake onto the plate.

He turned you around gently, his expression thoughtful. "About keeping it secret. Don't get me wrong, this past year has been incredible, having something that's just ours. But sometimes..." he paused, running a hand through his hair, "sometimes I just want to tell the whole world that I'm married to the most amazing woman."

You set down the spatula, studying his face. "Really? You want to go public?"

"Only if you're ready," he said quickly. "But yeah, I do. It's been almost a year, and honestly, I'm tired of not being able to call you my wife whenever I want to. Of having to take my ring off for appearances. Of watching you do the same."

Your heart raced at the possibility. "It would change things," you said softly. "The privacy we've had..."

"I know," he nodded, taking your hands in his. "But maybe... maybe it's time. And what better day than my birthday? We could post something simple, just us."

You thought about it for a moment. The past year had been magical, your private bubble of newlywed bliss protected from the public eye. But he was right - there was something exhausting about constantly hiding, about choosing your words so carefully, about slipping your rings off before stepping outside.

"Okay," you finally said, a smile spreading across your face. "Let's do it."

Harry's eyes lit up. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," you laughed as he pulled you into a tight hug. "But after breakfast! These pancakes are getting cold."

Later, after breakfast and presents, you both sat on the couch, phones in hand. You'd chosen a simple photo from your wedding day - just your hands intertwined, both wearing your rings, nothing too revealing but unmistakably a wedding photo.

"Ready?" he asked, his thumb hovering over the 'post' button.

You took a deep breath, nodding. "Ready."

With a click, your secret was out in the world. You both turned your phones to silent, knowing they would explode with notifications any second.

"How does it feel?" Harry asked, pulling you close.

You twisted your ring, which for the first time wouldn't have to come off when you left the house later. "Liberating," you decided. "Scary, but good scary."

"No more hiding," he agreed, kissing your temple.

"No more hiding," you repeated, then laughed. "Your mum's going to be thrilled. She's been dying to post those wedding photos."

"Oh God," Harry groaned good-naturedly. "She's probably already sharing them as we speak."

You snuggled closer to him, enjoying this quiet moment before the world would inevitably explode with the news. "Happy birthday, H. Sorry I kind of hijacked it with our announcement."

"Are you kidding?" He grinned down at you. "This is the best gift you could have given me. Now everyone knows I'm the luckiest man alive."

"Charmer," you muttered, but you were smiling.

"Your charmer," he corrected, then added with obvious delight, "Your husband."

"My husband," you agreed, loving how it felt to say it out loud, knowing you wouldn't have to whisper it anymore.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by zayn, yourinstagram and 20,876,449 others

harrystyles Best birthday gift was marrying my soulmate almost a year ago. Thank you for keeping our secret. ❤️

February, 2024

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username1 WHAT THE HELL

username2 IS THIS A JOKE

taylorswift Finally!! 🥂 Keeping this secret was TORTURE. So happy for you both ♥️

gemmastyles Bbout time you two told everyone!! now i can finally post all the cute photos from the wedding 😭💕

lizzo YALL I WAS AT THE WEDDING AND HAD TO PRETEND I WASNT THIS WHOLE TIME 😭 CONGRATS AGAIN BESTIES

niallhoran The most beautiful day! Love you both!

yourinstagram Finally 🤍 Happy birthday to my husband (!!!) who makes every day feel like a love song. Thank you for choosing me, always.

username3 HUSBAND???????? MARRIED????????? IM SHAKING AND CRYING AND THROWING UP

username4 OH MY GOD THE SIGNS WERE THERE ALL ALONG. REMEMBER WHEN HE KEPT TOUCHING HIS RING FINGER IN THAT ONE INTERVIEW??

username5 not me zooming in on every detail of this photo 👀 THE RINGS ARE SO BEAUTIFUL IM SOBBING

username6 the way they kept this secret for a YEAR?? we love a private couple

username7 HARRY STYLES IS A MARRIED MAN. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. I REPEAT. HARRY STYLES IS A MARRIED MAN

username8 im so happy for them but also crying in the club rn 😭

username9 THE WAY YN JUST CALLED HIM HUSBAND IM SCREAMING

username10 not me thinking about how they had a whole secret wedding and we had no idea 😭 they're so powerful

username11 "best birthday gift" STOP IM CRYING THIS IS SO ROMANTIC

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

"This is me trying"

Prologue.

ok yall!! so i'm in a bit of writers block for IBDL and the older AU after tumblr deleted the chpaters I spent days writing. Butttt I did come up with this, reader is still neglected bc she can never be happy, but it's a darker Mafia Au. This also sucks bc it also got deleted but i really wanted to post something and get feeback on this concept. This is the prologue! Hope yall enjoy! Likes, asks, reblogs, and comments make my day and encourage me to write more. Send in aks!!

TW: BRIEF SA, IF IT TRIGGERS YOU, DONT READ!

The Wayne Manor was a sprawling gothic monstrosity perched on the edge of the Gotham skyline, a dark and looming silhouette against the backdrop of a city that never truly slept. It was a place where secrets festered, where power and control were everything, and where the lives of the people within its walls revolved around wealth, influence, and fear. For the people who lived in it, this was home. For you? It was a prison.The Wayne family was Gotham's most powerful mafia family, maybe even in all of North America, an empire built on crime, manipulation, and ruthless control. At the top of it all was Bruce Wayne, the cold and calculating godfather. Your actual father. Beneath him, each of his children had their role to play. But you, his biological daughter, were no more than a ghost within the house. You were a byproduct of a two-night stand with a whore, as your family called her, that had long since faded into shadows, and your presence was barely tolerated by the very people who were supposed to be your family.

At least, that’s how it felt after nearly a decade of living here.

You had arrived at Wayne Manor when you were just seven years old, dragged from the wreckage of your mother’s overdose by a man who was nothing more than a stranger. Bruce Wayne—cold, distant, and unforgiving. A man who ruled over the city with an iron fist and a heart as cold as the marble floors beneath your feet. He wasn’t your father, he never had been. He had simply become the man who was tasked with your care, but that wasn’t much of a care at all. Bruce’s love had always been reserved for the empire he had built, not you. You were merely another complication in his already fractured world. He told you that your mother had left you, that you were his responsibility now, and that you needed to prove you were worthy of the Wayne name. A name that, for the longest time, had been nothing but an empty echo in your mind.

Your mother was your hero, a military hero who realized how fucked up America was and retired. She, like most veterans, got hooked on drugs but that didn't mean she loved you any less. When she died, she took your happiest parts with her.

“Prove you deserve the last name Wayne,” Bruce had said when you were first brought into the manor, his eyes hard, his tone colder than the mansion’s marble floors. He’d looked at you like you were nothing but another part of the vast empire he controlled, a problem to be solved, a name to be earned.

And that’s what you did. You worked. You tried to prove yourself, to be a part of this family—this business. But it didn’t matter. You were invisible to them, a shadow in the background of the Wayne Empire. A ghost that haunted the halls of a mansion that never felt like home.

The moment he had taken you in, he’d told you to keep your head down. "Wayne’s don’t cry. Wayne’s don’t show weakness," he had said, his tone dead and devoid of any warmth. You couldn’t even remember the last time he’d spoken to you unless it was to reprimand or scold you for something minor. You learned quickly that to Bruce, you didn’t exist.

He was the head of the Wayne Mafia and Wayne enterprise, the mastermind who controlled everything from the shadows. He was feared, respected, and never showed weakness. He wasn't your father. He was your boss, distant, cold, and authoritarian. To him, you were nothing. He barely acknowledged you unless you were needed for some mafia-related task, which was almost never. You were neglected in the deepest way possible, emotionally invisible, yet physically present only when it was required.

You learned early on that any attempt to gain his affection was futile. He was too busy running his empire, and any sign of weakness—like wanting to be close to him—was met with disdain. His affection was reserved for his empire and all his other children.

At 15, you had spent eight years in the mansion without a single ounce of affection from him. You were a tool to him, nothing more. And yet, despite his coldness, you still wanted to earn his approval. You knew it was futile, but there was still something inside you that clung to the hope that one day, maybe, he’d look at you like he did the others. You became top of your class, played volleyball, did cheer, ballet, theatre, became student council president, won every award under the sun hoping he’d notice, that one day he’d show up at your award ceremony and bring your siblings. They’d all be grinning at you proudly, they’d make sure everyone knew you were part of the family, they’d let you sit with them at dinner and let you tell them about your most recent tennis match. But that was always a fantasy.

And maybe that was what broke you the most: knowing that he would never see you as a true part of the family.

Earning the Wayne name felt like a distant dream, like something only the others could ever attain. Bruce made it clear when you arrived at Wayne Manor was that you didn’t belong here yet. His blood ran cold when he looked at you, as though you were a mistake he’d have to clean up. There was no room for kindness, no words of comfort. Just a cold gaze, and then the hollow command to stay out of his way.

As you grew older, the cruelty only deepened, and it wasn’t just Bruce.

When Dick Grayson entered the scene, you were still just a child, struggling to make sense of your place in the mansion. He was everything Bruce wasn’t, charming, always smiling, and the golden boy of the family. The way he spoke to you, with that practiced air of kindness, made your skin crawl.

But the smile he wore to the rest of the world was never the one he gave you. The moment the doors closed behind you two, that smile would disappear, replaced with a smirk that spoke volumes. His jokes about you, his casual jabs, it was like nothing you did would ever be good enough. He was always pushing you, always finding ways to make you feel small.

“You know, if you weren’t so weak, Bruce might actually notice you,” Dick would say as he walked by, his eyes flicking over you like you were nothing more than a nuisance. "But don’t worry. Maybe you’ll prove yourself one day. Maybe.”

His words, though they came with a laugh, always carried the sharp edge of cruelty.

The eldest of the children, the perfect golden boy, the one who could do no wrong in Bruce’s eyes. Dick was no different than the rest. As a leader of a section of the family’s operations, he was a busy man. He had his own goals and ambitions, and when it came to you, he cruel.

To Dick, you were a lost cause, someone who wasn't worth the effort, the butt of the joke. While he didn't mock you as often as Damian or Jason, he certainly didn’t love you, he didn't even like you. He was more likely to ignore you entirely, but if you caught him in a bad mood.........He never tried to be a big brother, and in moments when you needed comfort, he’d either brush you off or simply laugh at you and make you feel worse.

Damian—Bruce’s biological son. Your little brother who seemed to have it all. The heir to the throne, groomed for greatness, your father's love. It wasn’t hard to see the resentment and hatred in his eyes whenever you crossed paths. At 13, Damian was already a lethal force, training under the most dangerous men in the world. But what you hated most about him was that, despite the bitterness, he always seemed to find ways to put you down.

your younger half-brother, was the perfect assassin in training, and he hated you. He hated how you existed in his space, how you took up time and energy that could have been spent on his training. To him, you were a nuisance, a shadow in his way. He didn't care about family bonds or affection. You were just the member of the household that didn’t belong.

Damian's cold demeanor was the product of years of indoctrination into the Wayne family’s brutal world. He was protective of the family, of Bruce’s approval, so any sign of weakness or attachment from you only made him more disgusted. He’d learned to use violence as a way to control people, but when it came to you, he was especially harsh, never lifting a finger to defend you, but constantly mocking, hurting, and ridiculing you, making you feel small and insignificant.

Damian never missed a chance to make cruel remarks about you, as though any attempt at closeness with you would be seen as weakness.

"You're nothing more than a distraction," Damian would sneer as he walked past you, his green eyes glowing with disdain. "Father is wasting time on you. You’ll never be one of us."

His words sliced through you like a blade, and it only made the ache of rejection burn deeper.

Tim was the one who ignored you the most. He had a sharp intellect, a mind for strategy, and an indifference to almost everyone around him, including you. You had tried to talk to him once, hoping for some sort of connection, you were around the same age after all, but he just stared through you as though you weren’t there.

When he did speak, it was never pleasant.

"Could you be quieter for once?" he snapped one evening, his gaze never leaving his laptop screen. "Some of us are trying to work."

It was a pattern, one that left you feeling invisible, like you didn’t even exist in his world. On rare occasions, when he was in a particularly bad mood, he’d throw a cutting remark your way, something meant to remind you that you were just a nuisance in his eyes.

"You think you’re important just because you’re here?" Tim would sneer. "Get over yourself. You’ll never be more than a side character."

The family’s strategist, and tech genius, was the quietest of the bunch. Tim was obsessed with perfection, everything had to be meticulously planned. When it came to you, he was condescending. He believed you were too naïve, too soft for the harsh world they lived in. It was clear that he didn’t consider you part of the family in a meaningful way. To him, you were just another piece in the game, and you were never treated like an equal.

Tim would lecture you about what you should be doing, constantly putting you down in subtle ways that made you question your worth.

Jason was the worst of all, next to Damian of course. Where the others merely ignored you or made snide comments, Jason was outright cruel. He made it clear that he didn’t want you here from the moment you arrived. He’d watch you with a sneer on his face, like you were something he had to tolerate rather than a part of the family.

“Do you ever stop being pathetic?” Jason growled one night, cornering you in the hallway. He was older than you—by eight years—and his presence was always overwhelming, his anger like a shadow that clung to him wherever he went. “You’re nothing but a waste of space. Bruce should’ve left you on the streets where you belong.”

You could never forget that night. The venom in his words, the way he towered over you with that sick, twisted smile that barely concealed the disgust he felt for you—it stayed with you, festering in your mind.

Your older brother, was once a wild and rebellious soul, but after his brutal experience with the Joker, he became even more distant. He had built walls around himself, and those walls excluded you. To him, you were nothing more than a symbol of the dysfunction that ran through the Wayne family. He didn’t care about you, he resented you for simply existing.

Whenever he interacted with you, it was laced with sarcasm and cruelty. He would always mock you in front of the others, tearing down your self-esteem at every opportunity. Your attempts to reach out to him were met with disgust, and sometimes even attacks. If you tried to talk to him about anything personal, he’d brush you off with an eye roll or sarcastic comment.

He was a silent witness to your pain, and he didn't care to acknowledge it.

The girls—Steph, Cass, and Barbara—were no better.

Stephanie would occasionally feign interest in you, only to turn it into a mocking session. "You really think Bruce cares about you?" she’d ask with a smirk. "He just likes having more bodies around to do his bidding. And you? You’re nothing but a backup plan, a mistake."

Cass, though quieter, was no less cruel. She had a way of looking at you as if you were beneath her, like you didn’t even deserve to breathe the same air. Her silence was more suffocating than any words could be.

Barbara, though, was the most calculating. She used her intelligence to manipulate, twisting everything into a game of control. She’d often mock you in front of the others, making it feel like you were a joke.

“Do you really think you’ll ever be anything but Bruce’s charity case?” she asked one day, her voice laced with sarcasm. "You’ll never be one of us. Don’t kid yourself.”

They were mean in every sense of the word, they made fun of your looks, your weight, your height, they gave you insecurities you never would’ve thought of.

Alfred, the Wayne family’s butler, was perhaps the only one who ever showed any genuine care, but even that was limited. Alfred's soft-spoken nature meant he was there for you, but he was more like a caretaker than a father figure. He was more interested in making sure you were fed, safe, and well taken care of, but he never pushed against Bruce or the others to make sure you were emotionally okay. Alfred was loyal to the family and followed Bruce’s commands, no matter how cruel they were.

And then there was Duke.

Duke, the one who never even seemed to acknowledge your existence. He was polite—always saying "hello" when he passed by, but that was the extent of it. He didn’t hate you. He didn’t love you. He just… ignored you. It was almost worse than anything the others did. At least when they made fun of you, you existed to them.

But Duke? He acted as if you weren’t even in the room.

In the end, you were just a shadow in Wayne Manor. There was no love here, no family. Just a constant, searing reminder that you didn’t belong.

You were nothing. You were nobody.

But you’d change that. You had to. You had to prove yourself worthy of the Wayne name. Even if it meant enduring their cruelty.

Because deep down, you knew that in a family built on power and fear, only the strongest survived.

And maybe, just maybe, you could become something more.

At Gotham Academy, you were untouchable.

There was no other way to put it. You were awkward and lonely in middle school but that changed as soon as you hit puberty in high school. Suddenly you were the girl everyone wanted to be or be with. Effortless grace and charm, the kind of girl who seemed to have it all together. You were the captain of the cheer team, the student body president, the girl who could throw a party, lead a project, and still ace every test. The guys chased after you with varying levels of persistence, but none of them knew who you really were. They didn’t know you were a Wayne.

They didn’t know you were just a forgotten child in the massive, shadowed halls of Wayne Manor.

At school, you were alive. Teachers fawned over you, praising your work ethic, your achievements, and your positive attitude. "Your essays are brilliant," Mrs. Summers would say, always raising her eyebrow in surprise when she saw your name at the top of the page. "You never fail to impress, your parents must be proud." You smiled, the words coming easily, just as they always did. The praise felt good, almost like an escape from the emptiness that waited for you when you returned to Wayne Manor.

But the truth was, you were dying for something real, something that made you feel seen at home.

When school let out, you gathered your things, avoiding the usual parade of admirers by slipping through the back doors of the school to your waiting car. Today, there was no stopping the swarm of boys who followed you from class to class. Josh from the football team had been practically suffocating you all day with his relentless compliments, while Lucas, the track star, was constantly finding excuses to "study" with you. Both of them seemed to think your "no" was just another challenge. But despite their attention, you were still the one who didn’t belong.

Because once you left Gotham Academy, once you stepped into Wayne Manor, you were nobody.

Bruce never cared to acknowledge your presence, let alone make you feel like part of the family. He was always wrapped up in his business empire or his “other life,” never bothering to check in on you. The closest thing you had to a father was Alfred, the ever-loyal butler, who was the only one who seemed to care about you. But even his affection was distant, a courtesy reserved for a child who didn’t quite fit.

Damian, Tim, Stephanie, and Duke all attended Gotham Prep, the elite school for Gotham’s privileged. Bruce had never bothered enrolling you there, and you wondered, sometimes, if it was because you weren’t good enough, weren’t worth the effort.

And yet, despite their indifference, you longed to be seen by them. Maybe if you earned their respect, earned Bruce’s approval, they would start noticing you.

But it was always the same: emptiness.

The one place you could truly escape to was Grace's house. Grace was your best friend, your sister in every way that mattered. She was the one who saw the real you, the one who didn’t care about your last name or your family’s wealth. She was the only one who knew you were the unwanted daughter of Gothams most infamous mobster. She accepted you as you were: a girl who was as talented as she was misunderstood.

At Grace’s house, you felt alive. It was a normal, cozy home, filled with laughter and love, the kind of place that had never been offered to you at Wayne Manor. Her parents treated you like their own daughter, and her two older brothers—Isaac and Nathan—had taken to protecting you like you were their little sister. Her youngest brother, James annoyed you as much as he did Grace and somehow, you loved him for it. It was nice being a big sister to someone who was actually normal and didn't try to kill you all the time.

Grace’s oldest brother, Daniel, was another story, he treated you like a sister even though you've had a crush on him since you were 10.

You flirted with him constantly. It wasn’t anything serious, but Daniel had a way of making your heart race in a way that the boys at Gotham Academy never could. He was a older than you, maybe 21, with a confident charm that made him irresistible. Tall, blonde, jacked, he was the perfect All-American boy. You knew he wasn’t ever going to see you as anything more that a little sister but that didn’t stop you from trying. Every time he walked into the room, your heart did a little skip, and you couldn’t help but turn into a blushing mess. Grace teased you endlessly for it. Daniel was your first ever crush and that feeling would never really go away, no matter how much you saw him or how sisterly he treated you.

Most nights, you stayed over at Grace's. It became a regular tradition—weekends spent in her house, sprawled out on her couch for movie marathons, stealing her clothes, gossiping about school, and stealing snacks from her kitchen. You loved it there. You could forget about Wayne Manor, forget about the neglect and the loneliness, and just be a normal teenager. You came over for Thanksgiving, your birthday, and for Christmas they even had a stocking with your name on it.

One night, after a particularly grueling practice, Grace invited you to another sleepover at her house. As usual, you packed a bag with the essentials, pajamas, a change of clothes, and your phone, just in case. You already had most things at her house, you practically lived with her at this point. The moment you arrived, Grace’s dad, Thomas, greeted you with a warm hug, his hearty laugh filling the room. “Here comes trouble!” he said, ruffling your hair in that easy-going way he did every time you showed up.

You felt the pang of longing for a real family, but you pushed it away, embracing the warmth of the moment. You wanted to be part of this family, a normal family.

Grace’s siblings were equally welcoming. Nathan tossed you a snack and winked. “You ready to get your ass kicked at Mario Kart again?” he teased, knowing full well that you were unbeatable.

James groaned "I knew I smelled another loser walk in" You gasped dramatically and put him into a headlock, ruffling his hair till he apologized.

As the night went on, and you all sat around Grace’s kitchen table, laughing and joking, you couldn't shake the feeling that your life at Wayne Manor, and the family that barely looked at you, was a shadow that still loomed over your heart.

But then, as if to prove that life couldn’t just be simple for you, the front door of Grace’s house swung open, and your phone buzzed in your pocket. You glanced at it, your stomach dropping as you saw the name.

Alfred.

You knew what it meant. You couldn't sleep over tonight. Bruce was having people over and you had to be there in case the guests asked about you. Another night where you'd sit at the table in the maids kitchen, listening to your family get along without you. Pretending that Bruce’s absence didn’t eat away at you, didn't make you feel less than. You ignored his message. You didn't want to go home, really the guests never even knew Bruce had a biological daughter, they wouldn't ask about you. This was just Alfred's way of trying to make the family bond with you.

It was always the same. Bruce only ever reached out when he needed you for something, when his empire demanded your presence. But never for the reason you truly needed. Not for affection. Not for love.

You stood up abruptly, suddenly feeling suffocated by the laughter and warmth of Grace’s home. You didn’t want to leave. Didn’t want to go back to the place that always made you feel so… alone. But you had to. You had no choice. You already ignored Alfred's text long enough, you missed dinner so you had to get home or else Bruce might actually kill you, if he even noticed you weren't there.

No matter how far you ran, how many awards you won, or how many boys followed you around at school, the question remained: when would you finally be seen by the ones who mattered most?

That night, your prayers were answered, your bravery caught the entire family's attention just when you had gotten okay with their negligence, began to enjoy doing whatever you wanted from the shadows.

The rain was fucking relentless.

It hammered down from the heavens, soaking you to the bone as you walked through the backstreets of Gotham. The kind of rain that made you feel like you were being baptized in cold, dirty water. You pulled the hood of your jacket up, not that it did a damn thing to keep you dry. The city’s grimy streets were slick with water, reflecting the neon lights like a damn funhouse mirror. You kept your head down, trying to ignore the chill creeping through your clothes.

Grace’s house had been a brief escape from the cold, suffocating grip of Wayne Manor. For a few hours, you’d felt like a person again. Like someone who could actually live, instead of just existing as a piece of forgotten furniture in the mansion. But that was before Alfred had texted. Before you saw his name flash across your screen, making your stomach twist in a knot.

"Shit," you muttered under your breath, shoving the phone back into your pocket. Not today. Not now. You needed more time before you went back to that suffocating place. But you knew it wasn’t a choice. Bruce would be pissed, and when Bruce Wayne was pissed? Everyone knew about it.

Still, you had to push forward. It was Gotham, after all. A rainstorm in this city could mean anything from a mugging to a full-on shootout. Every step felt heavier as you neared the looming silhouette of Wayne Manor. The mansion stood there like some kind of ancient titan, always watching, always waiting, and never giving a damn about who you were.

The door creaked open, and you slipped inside, trying to make as little noise as possible. Maybe you’d get lucky and Bruce would be too busy with whatever the hell was going on to notice you sneaking in.

Fat chance.

The foyer was dark, and the mansion smelled like dust and expensive wood polish. You should have felt comforted by the familiarity, but instead, all you could feel was that gnawing sense of isolation. The Manor had always felt like a prison to you, and not the kind you could escape with a couple of well-timed sprints or clever words. This was a cage built with stone and glass, and you were stuck inside it.

You started down the hallway, the faint sound of voices growing louder as you passed the dining room.

And then you stopped. Something in the air changed. The hairs on your neck stood up. You were too close to the dining hall, and the moment you looked in through the door, your breath hitched in your chest.

There, at the long grand dining table, sat your family—or, well, what was left of them. Every one of them was slumped forward, tied to their chairs with ropes, blood trickling from their ears, noses, and mouths. The first thing you noticed was that no one was moving. No one was breathing. They all looked... dead.

Bruce. Damian. Jason. Dick. Tim. Cass. Duke. Steph. Barbra, even Alfred was slumped over in the corner where he usually kept watch. All of them.

Your stomach dropped to your feet as you backed away slowly. This was not happening.

“No fucking way,” you breathed out, stepping back, trying to backpedal before anyone heard you. But your mind was already working overtime. Who did this? Why?

The answer came quickly. It didn’t take much to put two and two together. The guests, it had to be them. The rich assholes who had “business” with Bruce. Except now, you were figuring out that the business they were conducting didn’t involve any stock markets or deals. It was murder.

And then the realization hit: whoever these people were, they weren’t here for some petty robbery. They’d been in the house long enough to take down the entire family without a sound.

Fuck.

Your mind went blank. For a second, you thought you were dreaming. But no, this was real. And this was not happening.

You were about to turn on your heel and haul ass out of there, but that’s when you heard it. Footsteps. Heavy footsteps. Two of them, moving fast, and definitely not the quiet kind. The air around you felt thicker. The kind of thick that made your skin crawl.

You darted to the side, taking cover behind a marble pillar. From the sound of it, someone was coming this way. Your heart pounded in your chest as you held your breath, praying to God they didn’t notice you.

You needed to leave. Now. Run. Go.

But just as you turned, desperate to bolt before anyone saw you, you froze.

Footsteps. Heavy, deliberate, and moving fast.

There was no time to think, you stayed hidden watching them walk around the room. They were wearing crisp black suits, and all three looked like they shopped in the"Big and tall" section. There was no way you could fight off all three, yeah you had some muscle but nothing like Jason or even Tim. Even Bruce would break a sweat facing these guys. They seemed to be checking Bruce's pockets right now, looking for something.

While they were distracted, you took deep breathes, trying to calm down. Who the fuck were these people? How did they manage to trick the infamous Wayne Family? What did they want? How could you get out of this and save your family?

Did you even want to save your family?

You shook the thought away quickly; of course you wanted to save them, they were cruel and horrible but who were you to decide their fate without trying to help them? Who made you judge, jury, and executioner?

Then you saw it, Bruce's emergency button, hidden on the wall. Only noticeable to someone who's wandered these halls for years. You almost fell to your knees in relief as you sneakily crawled over to it and pressed it.

Help was on the way and the intruders didn't know you were here! You smiled feeling pure relief at your quick thinking.

How's that for useless huh Damian? You wanted to taunt him as you looked at his unconsious form. He was so much better this way, they all were. They were silent.

Then, you heard it, the loud blaring of alarms and sirens. "Emergency." "Emergency." Alfred's voice rang through the whole manor and the sirens alerted the men that you were in the dining room.

You groaned, eyes burning with tears, "Who's the fucking dumbass that made the silent alarm LOUD?"

The men came rushing into the dining room yet it seemed to be your lucky-unlucky day. Only one of them had a gun.

Time seemed to slow as he aimed it at Bruce's soon to be lifeless head. You don't know what came over you as you tackled Bruce's unconscious body out of the bullets way.

You regretted it as soon as you did it, your vision went white with pain as the bullet hit you shoulder.

You pushed through the pain and grabbed a butter knife as one of the unarmed men approached you. You punched and ducked but the pain slowed you down. He hit you hard right in the ribs, so you did him one better and gouged his right eye out with your butter knife. Those boxing classes really did do some good, no wonder your mom insisted on them.

More shots rang out and it was out of pure adreneline that you were able to pull almost each and every member of your family under the table. Damian was the only one left and as you stood to pull him down too, you saw the armed man pull the trigger of his gun. He was going to kill your baby brother, he was aiming at the 14 year old's head. No matter how cruel or vicious Damian was, he's still a child, still your little brother.

You couldn't let him die. Maybe that's why you threw your self on top of his body, protecting him from the two bullets aimed at him.

Fuck.

This hurt. No wonder people hated being shot. This hurt more than cheer warm ups, did you think you were bulletproof?

You decided that you would just allow the next person to be shot. The man's footsteps were coming closer and you were getting more light headed from the pain. You turned to Jason's unconscious body and punched him. "Wake up you fucking loser! I can't fight this guy."

Obviously, Jason didn't wake up, why did you even think anyone in this family would ever try and help you?

As you shook him and panicked even more, you noticed something shining in Bruce's pocket. So much for "No weapons at the dinner table."

A sleek black gun, any other day you would've marveled at the custom design on it and focused on the monograming, but right now all that mattered was getting it before you bled out and the man killed you. You crawled and those five steps felt like eternity and when you finally grabbed the gun out of Bruce's armani suit pocket, the scary man was standing above you with a cruel grin.

Your heart dropped as he knelt next to you and stroked your hair, "Hey, pretty." He breathed out as he knelt next to you, his hands wandering around your body and up your skirt. Bile rose to your mouth and your heart dropped. No. This isn't happening. "If I had know Bruce had such a pretty thing, I would've been come here. You're certainly the looker compared to your sisters." He said as he began smelling your hair.

You don't know how it happened, but suddenly he was laying on the floor with blood coming out his throat. You looked between your hand holding the gun and his now lifeless body in horror. The last thing you heard before passing out was a flurry of boots and gunshots and a man that sounded like your father yelling for a doctor. The last thing you saw was a tall boy lifting you up, his eyes as blue as the sky, and you genuinely believed you died and went to heaven.

The room was cold, sterile, a sharp contrast to the emotional storm raging inside you. The pain in your shoulder and stomach was nothing compared to the weight on your chest, the realization that no matter what, you couldn’t escape this life anymore. You had made your choice, whether you liked it or not.

You woke to the soft beeping of machines and the scent of antiseptic in the air, your vision still blurry. It didn’t take long for the footsteps to reach you—slow, deliberate. The door creaked open, and one by one, they walked in.

Dick entered first, his expression calm but unreadable. His gaze lingered on you for a moment, and instead of his usual mocking smile, there was something more restrained about him now. The newfound respect he had for you was obvious, but there was a subtle weight behind it. He didn’t say much, just gave you a nod.

“You’re still breathing, that's good,” he said softly, his voice low, a simple acknowledgment. “We all owe you for that. For what you did.” The words weren’t a compliment, they were recognition, quiet and heavy. The respect was there, but so was the unspoken truth: You were one of them now.

You expected to feel happier. You imagined this day so many times before, you prayed for it, so why were you sick to your stomach now that it's happened? Why didn't you want it anymore and why hadn't you realized it till now?

Damian was next, stepping in with his usual, stoic expression. His eyes flicked over you briefly, but there was no anger in his gaze, only a quiet understanding, maybe even admiration, hidden beneath the surface. He didn’t bother with pleasantries.

“Your actions saved all of us,” he said, voice flat. “You’ve earned your place here. Just don’t forget it.” His words weren’t harsh, but there was no room for doubt. You had proved yourself. And that meant something far more permanent than any spoken affirmation could express.

Ungrateful brat. You took a bullet for him and he couldn't even thank you. God, you hated him. You were starting to wish you weren't a good person and let them all die. The inheritance would've been insane.

Jason followed suit, and though his rough edges remained, there was a faint softness in his expression as he looked at you.

“Damn, princess,” he muttered, his eyes scanning you with quiet intensity. “You really pulled through. You did what most of us couldn’t.” His gaze softened for just a moment, and then he leaned against the doorframe. “Didn't realize I had such a badass as a little sister. The knife move, the way you ducked and punched? Sick."

Jason, of all people, was praising you. Treating you like his sister rather than dirt at the bottom of his shoe. The nickname, princess, he once used to ridicule you, was said with a quiet revrance; like he actually thought you were a princess now. You couldn't help but feel good, this was all you wanted all these years. And in that moment, you would get shot again without hesitation if it meant you would get that everyday.

Tim entered next, and though his face was stoic, his eyes betrayed the flicker of respect, maybe even admiration. “We all saw it,” he said, his voice steady, but tinged with something quieter. “What you did… It wasn’t just about surviving. It was about protecting us. You earned the right to stand beside us. We all thank you.”

Well, it's not great but at least someone is appreciative. None of them would've done the same for you.

Cass entered, silent as always, but the look she gave you spoke volumes. She didn’t need to say anything—her eyes, sharp and understanding, told you that she saw your sacrifice, saw what you had done for them. She gave you a slight nod, acknowledging your place among them.

Then Duke and Stephanie stepped in.

Duke’s eyes were calm, but you could see the flicker of something more behind his gaze. The weight of what had happened didn’t escape him. His voice was steady as he spoke.

“You did what we couldn’t,” he said, his tone quiet but unshakable. “You kept us alive. All of us. And that means something. You’ve earned your place in this family.” His eyes softened, just the slightest bit. “Just don’t forget... that this family doesn’t leave anyone behind. Not anymore.”

And then there was Stephanie. Her usual energy was gone, replaced with something more somber. She didn’t crack a joke or make a snide remark. Her eyes scanned you with something like respect, but more than that, a quiet understanding that you’d been forced to prove yourself in ways none of them had ever been asked you to.

“Guess you really are one of us now,” she said softly, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, but it wasn’t lighthearted. It was tired. “I don’t know about you, but I’m glad you’re still here.” Her voice wavered slightly, but she pulled herself together quickly. “You’ve got our backs. We’ve got yours.”

Barbra stood next to her in agreement, looking hesitant to say something. She was the only one who noticed how much you resented them even though you were desperate for their love and approval.

What. The. Fuck.

No way this is happening. This is not real. Who knew saving someone's life could have them do a complete 180. Stephanie said she had your back. Duke acknowledged your existence. Jason didn't make you cry. Damian didn't attempt to kill or maim you. It's like the sky turned pink.

Finally, Bruce.

He stepped into the room, his presence overwhelming. The familiar weight of his gaze was on you immediately, but today there was something different—something almost proud in the way he looked at you, as if he finally saw you as more than just a forgotten name in the Wayne family history.

He was quiet for a moment, his hands folded in front of him. And then he spoke, his voice steady, unyielding, but carrying an undertone of something that almost felt like respect. “You did more than survive. You saved our lives. Every single one of us.” His eyes didn’t leave you. “You’re part of this family now. You’ve earned it. You earned the name Wayne.”

The words hit you harder than anything else. Part of the family.

It was like a weight dropping onto your chest—something heavy, something that couldn’t be easily brushed away. There was no turning back. You were one of them now, and that scared you, you hadn’t anticipated that.

Bruce’s eyes softened, just slightly, but his voice remained firm. “From this moment forward, you have a curfew. Midnight. You may have earned your place here, but you’ll follow the rules, just like the rest of us.”

You didn’t say anything. How could you? His words settled into your chest like stone, the finality of them carving out any space for protest. There was no choice in the matter. You were in this life now, whether you wanted to be or not. Midnight was late for a curfew anyway, Grace had to be home by 9.

“We all owe you our lives,” Bruce continued, but there was no gratitude in his tone, only a recognition of the debt. “But that doesn’t mean you’re exempt from the responsibilities we carry. Understand?”

You nodded once, slowly, the words caught in your throat. You wanted to speak, wanted to scream, to tell him that you weren’t sure you could do this, that you didn’t know if you were ready to live this life—the life of a Wayne, the life of this family.

What did a mafia family even do? Did you run around being Bruce's useless henchman, or did you have to go around trying to kill people? Could they be more specific about the pros and cons?

But nothing came out. There was nothing you could say that would change anything now.

Jason gave you a crooked grin,“Guess you’ve got to start following the rules now, huh? Welcome to the real family business.”

Tim’s gaze lingered for a moment, his eyes unreadable. “We’re all in this together,” he said quietly. “Whether you like it or not.”

Damian’s face softened, but only slightly. “I expect you to keep up,” he added, before turning to leave. “No slacking. We all carry our weight in this family.”

Cass’s presence remained, her silent approval almost suffocating in its quiet intensity.

Duke gave you one last nod before he turned, the weight of his gaze a reminder that you couldn’t slip out of this, no matter how much you might want to. He wasn’t angry—just silently resolute in his understanding. “You’re one of us now. That means something.”

And Stephanie? Her eyes lingered on you for a moment longer, before she gave you a small, tired smile. “We’re with you. All the way.”

Bruce? He gave you one last look, his eyes still holding that rare spark of approval—but it wasn’t soft. It wasn’t warm. It was measured, like a general overseeing a soldier. You were part of the mission now.

“We’ll train,” he said, his voice unwavering. “We’ll teach you everything you need to know. But it’s clear you’ve already proven yourself.”

You lay back against the pillows, the silence that followed hanging heavy in the air.

This is so weird. Why are they all being nice? How do you react to it? How do you interact with them? Is it genuine gratitude for saving their lives or is it a cruel joke to make you feel like you're important.

As they left, one by one, you stayed there, immobilized by the weight of it all. You’d earned your place here. But what did that mean now? What did it mean to be part of this family? You weren’t sure you even wanted it. But it was too late to turn back now.

OK YALL HERES THE PROLOGUE!! LMK WHAT YALL THINK AND HOW I SHOULD/ IF I SHOULD CONTINUE THIS FIC!!! HOPE YALL ENJOYED!! SEND IN ASKS! SORRY IF IT SUCKS LEAVE ME ALONE!!

[steddieprompts]

part 2 of this thing

The rest of the night the two sat on the couch, ate icecream and watched shitty comedy movies. Steve finally got Eddie to watch Major League and Eddie had to admit it was his favorite sports movie so far.

Eddie fell asleep on the couch as usual and Steve covered him with a blanket before heading to his room for the night.

They didn't talk about the situation with Tommy after that night. In all honestly Steve was happy to see the back of it as well as Tommy himself. Seeing him again was such a violent flashback to the person he was before... he didn't like thinking about it. He hoped Tommy loved New York so much he never stepped foot in Indiana again.

Of course Steve could never be that lucky.

It was a Monday night and the apartment was sweltering.

"I thought Daryl said he fixed the AC?" Steve said, fiddling with the knobs on the unit.

"Daryl says alot of things" Eddie's voice echoed from where his head was stuck in the freezer.

"Let's just go to the movies. At least their AC works," Steve grumbled.

Eddie pulled his head out of the freezer. "I'm in." He agreed and grabbed his wallet off the counter as he followed Steve out of the apartment... before shoving the handful of icecubes he snuck out of the freezer down the back or Steve's tucked in polo. His screech was so loud old lady Laski stuck her head out of her apartment to yell at them.

"Sorry, Muriel!" Eddie said through his cackling before they shoved their way out of the building.

Inside the theater the air was crisp and cool.

"Genius, Stevie," Eddie said, flipping his hair over the back of the seat and sliding down until his ass was almost off the seat. "I gotta pee," he announced and immediately stood back up. Jesus Christ he heard Steve mutter. "You want popcorn?"

"Nah. I'm good." Steve hummed as he closed his eyes.

After the bathroom, Eddie went to the concession stand and got himself a popcorn (large, because he knew Steve would steal some) and Steve a Sprite with extra ice.

When he turned away from the counter he nearly dropped it though. Across the room, just coming in the door, was Hagan.

Why was he still here? Shouldn't he be back in New York by now?

Eddie decided to ignore him... and the other guy he was with, some jock type Eddie faintly recognized from high school. He headed back towards the theater doors, but he wasn't as inconspicuous as he hoped.

Before he could get into the theater, Tommy sidled in front of the door.

"Well look who it is," Tommy smirked at him. "Out without your little body guard?"

"Body guard? Who, Steve?"

"I know he was lying to protect you. I can't figure out why." Tommy said, taking a threatening step toward Eddie.

He had about enough of this.

Eddie mirrored Tommy, taking a step forward and getting obnoxiously close to his face.

"Tommy, Tommy, Tommy," Eddie said his name like he felt so so bad for him, "Steve, the love of my life, is right in there." He tilted his head towards the door, "And believe me, he wasn't protecting me the other night, he was protecting you."

Eddie stared him down for a second before suddenly sticking out his tongue and making a guttural hiss. Tommy startled and jerked back into his jock friend. "Enjoy your film... and try not to think about what's in the dark." Eddie said sweetly before slipping into the theater, but not without hearing Tommy mutter "Freak" as the door closed.

Eddie hustled back to their seats, nearly spilling half the popcorn on the way.

"Steve!" He whisper yelled as he came down the row. He didn't really need to whisper, though, as the only other people in the theater were a couple teenagers in the back. "Steve!" He said again as he plopped down in his seat.

"What? Is that for me?"

"Yeah, yeah, I got you a Sprite, Tommy is here." Eddie said all in one breath. Steve nearly choked on the sip he took. "And I might have talked to him."

"Eddie..."

"And I might have lead him to believe that I cursed him or something. Hissed in his face."

"Wha... why?"

"He called you my body guard. Oh, and you're the love of my life now."

"Body gu... wait. awww you love me??" Steve said, sickly sweet and batting his eyelashes.

"Madly, darling," Eddie replied in his worst trans-atlantic accent. Steve chuckled.

"He seriously said I was your body guard?"

"Yeah he thinks we're pretending."

"Well fuck him."

"That's what I say," Eddie grumbled. He didn't like being called a liar even when he was one.

At the back of the theater the door opened and Steve peaked behind him through the seats and low and behold... Tommy Hagan.

"It's him," Steve grumbled.

"Huh?" Eddie asked, distracted by the movie previews.

"Tommy." He turned to Eddie. "You haven't suddenly developed boundaries in the last five minutes have you?"

"No, why?"

Steve surged forward, pressing his lips to Eddie's and cupping his jaw. Eddie made a surprised noise before pressing back, his hand finding Steve's waist, fisting his shirt.

After a few seconds Steve pulled back, meaning to look over at Tommy to cement the deal, but he got... distracted, watching Eddie's eyes flutter open, seeing how they danced over Steve's face as he processed.

"I see what the big deal is now," He finally said. Steve let out a soft chuckle, still enraptured by Eddie... and wasn't that a thought.

Eddie looked over Steve's shoulder, picking Tommy out in the dark, the light of the screen highlighting him. Slowly Eddie wiggled his fingers at him in a little wave.

Steve finally looked back at him, just in time for Tommy to storm out of the theater, his new cronie following behind.

"Wow," Eddie mused, "That worked surprisingly well." Eddie looked back at Steve, "You think he's jealous?"

"Dude!" Steve whined before sliding down in his seat.

"Think Tommy wants a little King action?"

"If you don't stop, I'm leaving you here and you can walk home."

Eddie cackled, settling down as the movie started.

But Steve couldn't concentrate. Kissing Eddie was... nice. To be fair, Steve hadn't been with anyone in a while but... that wasn't entirely the reason. He felt something he hadn't felt in a while. As cliche as it sounded... he felt a spark.

Maybe Eddie had felt it too.

The movie went by too fast but when they stepped back outside the sun had set and the heat had dissipated. Tommy was no where to be found.

As they drove home, Eddie was strangely reserved. They talked about the movie, about going to work in the morning, but the conversation didn't take any wild turns like they usually did. Steve didn't even have to scold Eddie for sitting sideways in the seat.

When they got back into the apartment Eddie didn't flop down on the couch or root around in the fridge, just said he was gonna head to bed before going into his room. Steve looked at the clock. It was only 8:30.

He tried to ignore it, but he couldn't. He brushed his teeth, changed his clothes, sat down and turned on the TV, but he couldn't ignore how strange it was. And it wasn't hard to guess why.

He shook out his shoulders before he knocked on Eddie's door.

"Yeah?" Eddie called from inside, Steve could here him quietly picking at his guitar.

"Can we talk? Please?"

The guitar stopped and Eddie opened the door, already in the ratty black Sabath shirt he usually slept in.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry... but I'm not."

"About what?"

"Kissing you like that. I should have... given you more warning."

"It's alright, Steve, I'm not mad."

"Maybe not, but something is wrong."

"It's fine, Steve, don't worry about it."

"No," Steve's hand shot out as Eddie tried to close his door. "I'm sorry, Eddie. I just... Please just talk to me, okay?" His hand dropped from the door, but caught Eddie's fingers on the way. He tangled them together before asking softly, "please?"

Eddie looked at their hands before saying "What is this?" He looked up at Steve taking a steadying breath, but it barely got rid of the tightness, the wobble. "What...?"

"Eddie, I know how this started but I can help but feel maybe... I dont know. I think there's something. Maybe we've been ignoring it."

"Are you fucking with me, Steve? Because I can't..." Eddie hated how his throat was closing up with fear, with hope.

"I'm not, I promise you," Steve stepped forward, tightening his grip on Eddie's hand, "I've never felt so at home with someone, so happy, and kissing you... Eddie. I can't let this go unless you tell me to."

Eddie swallowed, swallowed again, until he got enough courage to lean forward, softly, gently, and pressed his lips to Steve's for the second time that night.

The kiss was soft and gentle until he felt Steve smile against his lips and he couldn't hold back. He felt himself laugh as he pressed forward, Steve pulling him back until they hit the wall across the hall, laughing when it took Steve by surprise. They broke apart, Steve peppering kisses up Eddie's cheek to his temple.

"You uh," Steve said through a smile, "You want to go out sometime?"

Eddie threw his head back as his happiness and relief burst out of him in a laugh. "Yeah, sweetheart," Eddie smiled at him. "Let's go out."

[libraryogre]

My life really started at 30.

I had a fairly predictable Gen X trajectory. High school, college, first career at 23, first marriage at 24. The year I turned 30, I had to admit those both were over... I wasn't getting call-backs for teaching jobs, and my (now) ex and I had grown apart, and were divorcing. I was working in a burger place that was too far from home when a customer suggested I look into library work.

A few months in circulation turned into a few years in reference, which turned into a Master's degree. A busy gaming schedule turned into a partner who turned into a spouse, who then turned out two kids. Articles about D&D turned into books about Hackmaster and Savage Worlds.

If you'd have asked me in 2005 what my life would look like in 2025, I couldn't even picture this. We have a house of our own. I like my job, publish RPGs with my spouse as a hobby, and have two great kids. It's 20 years later, and I'm not the man I was... I am so much better.

There were plenty of rough times. I am where I am partially because my family could do so much to support us; I don't pretend that this was just grit and gumption. Those early years, that half-decade and change of my mid to late 20s, helped shape me, too. I wouldn't be the husband I am now without having been a husband now, and I wouldn't be the librarian I am without having been a teacher.

But they're not where *this* life took off. This life took off in 2007, when a 30 year old man got told "Hey, have you thought about library work?"

For most people, life doesn’t truly begin until they’re 26-30 or older. The way we romanticize and obsess over youth is super harmful. Your life is not over at 21, I promise you. It’s just beginning

[mouthfulloftoothpasterry]

Cracked

Summary: Now that Harry has time off from the fire station, him and Y/n spend (lots) some time doing what they've missed. Kind of a continuation of this! Firefighter!Harry x author!reader

Warnings: loooottsss of smut, some humiliation, all that jazz! Also, plz ignore typos lol

Wc: about 4k!

Now that Harry has hired on more guys at the fire station he and Y/n both have more time for each other and Harry has been loving every second of it.

He just got finished with hiring a new guy, who will be taking a big load off, he will be dealing with more of the little, less urgent calls that Harry has had to tend to during these low staffed months.

“Well, we hope you like it here Bryan. I know we're happy to have you on with us. You'll be saving us- specifically me, a lot of time.” He gives Bryan a polite smile, standing up from his desk to give his new hire a tour. He slips his phone out of his pants, opening iMessages and clicking on his wife's contact.

He walks out of his office, walking past the giant fire trucks and into one of the little rooms all the guys hang out in. “This is the room you'll be in the most, probably. Guys like Jim just hang out here, watching tv. You know, the guys who don't have a wife or anything.” He jokes, making Jim flip him off. He's one of the oldest firefighters, he and Harry have formed a tight bond throughout all the years they've worked together.

“You've got a wife?!” Harry nods, showing his lockscreen off to Bryan which is a photo of him and Y/n on their wedding day. “Yeah, married for eight years.” Bryan's eyes shoot wide, “How old are you?!” Harry laughs, “I'm almost twenty eight. I got married young.”

Harry closes the door, walking up into a fire truck. “Feel free to look around for a second then I'll show you everything.” Harry clicks back into him and his wife's messages, his thumbs covering over his keyboard as he plans out his messages.

Giving a tour to the new hire, I'll be off soon. Be ready for me, baby 😈

He chuckles at his own message before slipping his phone back into his pants, where it should probably stay until he gets home if he's going to continue to send texts like that.

“You know your way around a truck, right? You worked a county over for two years?” Bryan nods, finding everything himself. Harry knew he didn't have to give him much guidance since he's already worked in the field for a couple years.

After a couple more minutes of talking and finishing out the tour, he says his goodbyes, then heads back home.

He walks into their house, finding it silent with no traces of his wife. He creeps up the stairs, walking into his wife's office without any announcment. “Hi, baby.” He smiles, coming up behind her where she sits and writes. “Hi, H. I didn't know you'd be home so soon.” Harry frowns, kissing the side of her head. He slides his hands onto her shoulders, gently massaging at her muscles he knows are sore from sitting at her desk all day.

“I sent you a text. Hired on a new guy, now I'll have more time with my baby.” He smiles, sliding one of his hands into her tank top. His fingers instantly find her nipple, pinching at it. She squeaks, pushing his hand away. “H!” She grumbles, “I'm trying to write.” He shakes his head, yanking her up and into his arms.

She almost gets whiplash from the sudden movement. His arm is wrapped around her waist tight, pinning her to him. “I don't really care.” He admits, leaning down to kiss her. “Babe,” she whines, and Harry cuts her off again. His mouth hovers over her, teasing her as he bumps his nose against hers. “I really need to write, I have to finish this.” He playfully rolls his eyes, pressing a peck to her lips.

“I can just take you right back there really quickly.” He nods back to her reading chair. “Nothing with you is ever quick, and we both know that.” She pulls at his suspenders, pulling them down so she can kiss him before she turns to start writing again. “So you don't care about your husband?” He jokes, pushing her office chair back in for her despite him just asking for her to ignore her work.

“I care about him very much. You don't care about your wife's career?” Harry wraps his arms around her one last time, giving her a good squeeze and a loud kiss on her neck. “I care about it more than my own. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to start dinner for me and my beautiful wife.” He smiles, smoothing his mustache down, shooting her a wink and walking back out of her office.

📜⋆.ೃ🎞࿔*:･🕰-'♡'-

“Good morning, my baby.” Harry mumbles, smiling and wrapping his arms around Y/n. He pulls her closer, kissing over her neck. She giggles sleepily, pushing him away. “Your mustache is tickling me, babe.” He rubs it into her skin, laughing with her.

He sits up, kneeing the mattress as he yanks her legs up. “already?!” She laughs, threading her fingers behind his neck. “I'm trying to make up for lost time! I'm still recovering from those almost two months we went without.” He slides his hand down, quickly sliding his hand up and down his cock to get nice and hard for her before he pushes her little sleep shorts to the side.

“Just be a little gentle, though. We've kinda been going at it.” She softly jokes, whispering as if the bubble around them would pop if she spoke too loud. They're both still enjoying the early morning glow. “Awe, baby.” He pouts, rubbing her cheek with one hand and expertly hovering over her with his other hand in the pillow next to her head. “I don't really care if you're sensitive.” He mumbles, kissing her jaw.

Her mouth opens to respond, but nothing comes out. “Don't open that pretty mouth of yours unless you want me to fill it.” She lets out a shaky breath, closing her eyes to try to calm herself before she cums from his words alone.

He slides in without warning, making her breath get stuck in her throat. “Oh my god!” She clings to him, her nails scratching at his shoulder.

Their headboard slams against the wall as he thrusts in and out of her. Harry grabs onto it, trying to silence it so the neighbors don't complain like they had the week before. That left Y/n embarrassed the rest of the day.

“You're already being so pathetic, baby. C’mon, have a little pride.” He softly laughs in her face, looking at how she's turning into putty beneath him. She turns her head the other way as if it would stop him from hearing her whines. She bites her lip, listening to him and trying to have some pride instead of falling apart the second her husband slides his cock inside of her.

Harry gives up on holding the headboard. He grabs her jaw instead, squishing her cheeks together. “Let me hear you. Haven't been shy for twelve years, baby. Don't start it now.” She lets out a cry, her hips rolling to meet his thrusts. He slips out of her, making her almost choke on air when his leaky tip hits her clit.

“Look what you did. I was fucking you so good until you got too greedy.” She pants, trying to think of any words to say but only gasps for air coming from her lips. “Apologize or I'm not letting you cum.” He slowly, painfully slaps his big, red tip against her clit, smiling as he covers it in precum.

“I'm sorry, H. Fuck, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry.” She repeats it over and over again, sliding her hand up and cupping his cheek. He gives her a big, beautiful smile. “Awe, it's okay, my baby. Just don't do it again or I'll have to cum in you and leave you needy.” She nods, pushing his hair back and keeping eye contact with him him while he speaks to her.

“Did you hear me?”

“Yes” she whispers, frantically nodding her head.

“Then answer. With words.” He slides back into her, finding his rhythm again after she threw him off.

Harry pushes her sleep shirt up, revealing her perky breasts. He slides his hand across one, squeezing it before he slides his fingers over her nipples. He knows he's teasing her, but he takes his time feeling the silky skin, admiring them before he pulls her nipple into his mouth. He suckles at it, closing his eyes before he bites at the bud. She lets out a pained gasps, but obviously likes it because she clenches around him.

Harry's thrusts grow faster, and the headboard slamming against the wall only gets louder- the canopy style bed didn't help their issue either. Harry moans in her ear, groaning at her name.

“Almost there, baby?” He questions, now rubbing her clit. She nods her head frantically then wraps her legs around his waist and pulls him closer to her. “Just-” her voice breaks, clinging to him. Her back arches into him, her head digging into the pillow. “Fuck, just a little more, babe.”

His hips work overtime while he tries to get both of them to their highs, his arm sandwiched between their bodies while he continues to rub her clit.

“Can I cum in you?” He rushes out between breaths, asking her before he busts inside of her. “Yes, please, H. I need your cum in me. I want it leaking out of me for the rest of the day.” He cums the second that dirty talk falls out of his mouth. He doesn't get to hear her that often, the first time he read her dirty scenes in her book he was taken aback. From then on he's been trying to get her more comfortable using that nasty mouth he didn't know she had in the bedroom.

Y/n follows right after, cumming at the feeling of his hot load inside of her.

Harry collapses on top of her, laughing in the post-sex glow. He kisses the top of her head, almost tempted to go back to sleep. “Oh, my baby.” He groans, rolling over and taking her with him so she's now laying on top of him. “You were so good for me. You always are.” His thumb wipes a tear that is rolling down her cheeks.

“Are you okay? I didn't go too hard, did I? You know I get a little wrapped up sometimes.” She shakes her head then rests it onto his chest to relax. “No, it was just a lot… and you're still inside of me.” His chest rumbles with a laugh, choosing not to respond and instead rub her back as she listens to his heartbeat, falling back to sleep.

📜⋆.ೃ🎞࿔*:･🕰-'♡'-

“I'm so happy we get a nice night together, babe. I'm not used to this.” Y/n smiles, walking over to the couch with a large bowl of popcorn in her hands. She sits down on Harry's thick thighs, making herself comfortable as he scrolls through a random streaming service to pick a movie. “I know. I'll take you out next weekend, for an actual date.” He kisses her shoulder, wrapping an arm around her hips and resting his hand onto her exposed thigh.

His fingers absentmindedly trace the lace lining on her shorts. “I don't care what we do. As long as we're together.” Y/n mumbles, holding a piece of buttery popcorn up to Harry's mouth. He grabs it with his tongue, pulling it into his mouth then sucking her finger. She gasps, pulling her finger away from him. “You're so weird! Get a life.” He laughs, wrapping both arms around her and shoving his face into her neck.

“What do you want to watch, baby?” Y/n shrugs, not too focused on finding a movie. She'd rather stay up and talk all night like they used to do when they first got together, and when they had time together more often. “How's work going? Are you relieved you don't have to be on their every beck and call?” Harry nods, pulling her even closer to himself so her back is right against his chest.

“I'm very relieved. How is writing going? Hopefully very well, now that you've found your cure.” He winks with a smile before he reaches into the popcorn bowl. She playfully rolls her eyes, cuddling into him and throwing a blanket across them. “Writing is going well.” She lets out a relaxed sigh, resting her head on top of his. “I'm a little over halfway done, so before I know it it will be out.” Harry smiles, giving her a big squeeze and a tiny shake of excitement.

“I'm so proud of you. I can't believe you've finally made your dreams come true. I remember talking about this when we were teenagers. I'm just so unbelievably proud of you, my baby.” She blushes, looking down. She's completely overwhelmed by his random outburst of pride. “Thank you so much, H. I couldn't have done it without all of your support throughout these past couple years.”

He gives her another squeeze. “Y’know, all of my coworkers' wives have read your book.” Y/n raises her eyebrows. “Good or bad news?” Harry chuckles, rubbing his knuckles against the silky skin of her thigh. “Good. I think it's sweet that the whole world knows our love story.” She lets out a sarcastic laughs. “I wouldn't say the whole wor-” he cuts her off, shaking his head. “No,no. Don't underestimate yourself, my little number one best selling author.”

Y/n blushes again, “thank you, Babe.”

📜⋆.ೃ🎞࿔*:･🕰-'♡'-

Harry is busy getting ready for bed, standing up beside the bed where he lotions his worn hands. He's definitely had a few bad burns through his career, so he tries to take of them now that he's all healed.

Y/n walks out of their closet, tiptoeing over to Harry and standing in front of him, waiting for him to notice. It takes Harry almost a full minute to notice her. He looks her up and down, taking in the sight of his wife dressed in nothing but a light blue teddy. He reaches out, feeling the thin lace material.

He grows a big smirk on his face. “I thought you said you were ‘too sensitive’ because we were ‘going at it’ too often.” He doesn't make eye contact with her at all, just staring at her exposed skin. The lingering doesn't cover up a bit of her with the sheer fabric, especially since she opted out for the matching bra and thong.

Y/n ignores his words, lifting on her tiptoes to kiss him. Harry moans into the kiss, pulling her in and wrapping an arm around her waist. Her hands roam his bare chest before she slides them back, smoothing down his muscled back.

She takes a step away, her eyes rolling down Harry's body. His bulge is nearly busting out of his plaid sleep shorts.

Y/n crawls onto their bed, on her hands and knees as she lowers her chest to the bed and raises her ass into the air, spreading her legs apart for him. Harry smiles, his body buzzing with electricity. He's practically drooling as he reaches out, his hand coming to her ass.

Y/n looks back, “Are you going to take your sweet time?” Harry bites his lip, pinching his eyebrows together. “Speak to me like that again and I'll fuck your mouth till you cant speak.” She smiles, “Put it in, H. Come on.” She wiggles her hips, falling down to her forearms.

Harry slaps her ass, pushing his sleep shorts down so he's in nothing but socks. He knees the bed, yanking her hips and shoving her up the bed so he has more room. “Look at how ready I am for you.” She wiggles her hips yet again, pushing back to try to rub against him. After another beat of silence she huffs. “C’mon, I didn't dress up for you just for you to not fuck me.” He laughs, rolling his eyes.

She flips around, obviously frustrated. “C’mon, H. Don't you want me?” She pulls his hands into hers, placing them on her breasts. “Of course I do. I just want to see how pathetic you can get. You know I love to see my baby beg for me.” He smiles, pushing her back into the bed. He leans down, pulling her into a kiss. She smiles, wrapping her arms around his neck.

His hand snakes down between them, rubbing her pussy. She moans, softly biting at his lip. “You look so pretty, dressing up just for me.” He sits back up, his hands sliding down her body.

“Get back down.” He says, easily flipping her around onto her stomach, yanking her hips up. “Show off that pretty pussy, baby.” She returns to her previous position, back on her knees and forearms.

She wiggles her ass, softly laughing. “I love when you throw me around.” He smirks, kissing her lower back.

Harry savors the sight before he grasps his cock, lining it up with her hole and sliding it. His hand settles on her ass to keep himself somewhat stable. “M’” Harry groans, “I fucking love this pussy.” He slides his hand down her back, grabbing at her hair.

He softly yanks at her hair, making her smile. He pushes it away, giving her scalp a quick scratch with the pads of his fingers.

Her cheek is pressed into the mattress, moaning as he thrusts in and out of her. Harry pushes her hair back starting at her forehead. “My baby looks so pretty when she gets fucked.” She gives him a blissed out smile, fluttering her eyes back open to make eye contact with him.

Her face twists, her brows pulling together as she moans his name, gripping the sheets when he hits her g-spot.

Harry thrusts into her deeper, trying to pull the same noise out of her.

“I'll never get tired of this.” Harry gasps, letting out grunts every time he slams back inside of her that only makes Y/n clench tighter around him.

They hear faint cracking noises, but chose not to say anything as they chalk it up to house settling noises.

“Me either, H. Fuck- I love your cock so much. It feel so good-” she moans, her knuckles turning white as she squeezes onto the sheets. “Good inside of me.” She finally finished her sentence, letting out a big breath of air. Harry's head falls back, his mouth dropped open in pure pleasure.

He lifts a leg up, trying to get deeper inside of her. “Oh, that's good baby. Keep squeezing me.” She listens to him, trying her best to stay clenched around him even though her mind is blank and the only thing she can say is his name over and over again.

Harry pants, “Getting close?” Reaching his hand around to rub her clit.

They hear it before they feel it, a loud crack then they feel the bed completely bust beneath them.

Harry doesn't waste a second, continuing to thrust his hips as if he didn't just break their bed from endless nights of fucking his wife until they were both lulled to sleep.

“Har-” Harry shakes his head, “ignore it baby, I can tell you're almost there.” She obeys him, ignoring their broken bed- that continues to break as he finishes fucking her.

She cums quickly, gasping his name, and Harry soon follows- completely filling her up to the brim with his hot, sticky cum.

They take a second to catch their breath before coming back down to earth.

Harry carefully pulls out of her, placing a kiss on her hip. Y/n turns back, pushing her hair away from her face where stray strands stick to the half dried tears on her cheeks. “You okay?” Harry asks, helping her dry her cheeks.

She nods, letting out a yawn.

They both take in their surroundings, speechless at the state of their once neat bedroom. A lamp from Y/n’s nightstand is knocked over and laying on the floor, while their bed is basically in bits under them.

Harry sighs, sitting up. “Let me assess the damage. I'll see if I can fix it.” He steps down onto the floor, kneeling to see what they did. The slats under the mattress are completely busted and their wooden bed frame is cracked in half. He winces, looking back up at his wife. “Absolutely no saving this, baby. We're going to have to buy a new one.” She softly laughs, preparing to step off.

“No, the lightbulb broke and I don't want you to get splinters.” He pulls her into his arms bridal style. “Off to the guest bedroom.” Y/n laughs, throwing her arms around Harry's neck.

“Yeah, we'll deal with that tomorrow.”

📜⋆.ೃ🎞࿔*:･🕰-'♡'-

“I completely forgot about this.” Y/n sleepily chuckles while standing in the doorframe of her and Harry's bedroom. Harry looks back, holding a dustpan full of chipped wood. “Yeah, we definitely did a number on it.” He tosses the wood bits into a trash can, bending down to sweep the rest.

Y/n watches his back muscles contort while he pulls up the broken pieces of their headboard. She takes a step closer to him, her hand running over the skin. Harry glances up at her, ignoring it and returning to his work. He quickly does a double take. “You can't be serious?! We just broke our bed?!”

A/N: HIIIIII WOW THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL OF YOUR SUPPORT ON A CURE 🥹 I didn't expect this! Feeling so so thankful and excited everyone is still interested in my writing! Any words you have to say about my writing- big or small, funny or serious (specifically the horny ones are honestly hilarious- shout out to the person who was ovulating and "sliding down their couch") mean the WORLD to me ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[hazelira]

bath bubbles

The front door clicked shut, and the familiar sound of Sunghoon’s voice filled the quiet apartment.

"I'm home," he called softly, careful not to startle the little bundle of joy that had recently taken over your world.

"In here," you replied from the kitchen, where you had already started filling the sink with warm water for your baby boy’s bath.

Sunghoon stepped into the room, his eyes immediately softening at the sight of you cradling your five-month-old son, babbling contentedly in your arms. His tiny fists waved excitedly as soon as he saw his dad.

"Hey, little guy," Sunghoon murmured, stepping closer to gently kiss your forehead before rubbing a finger over the baby's chubby cheek. "Did you miss me?"

Your son released a delighted coo in response, his big eyes shining at Sunghoon.

"You ready to help with bath time?" you asked with a small smile, overseeing your husband roll up his sleeves.

"Of course," he grinned. "It's my favourite part of the day."

Together, you settled your little one into his baby bath support seat in the sink. He kicked his legs excitedly, his tiny toes wiggling as he felt the warm water surrounding him. Sunghoon supported his neck and head with one steady hand while his other gently held his son's tiny body.

You dipped your hand into the water and carefully wiped his plump little face, your fingertips trailing softly over his round cheeks. The cool sensation of the water against his warm skin made him shiver slightly, his face scrunching up in the cutest way.

Sunghoon chuckled. "Aww, buddy. That was a big shiver."

You giggled, pressing a soft kiss to your son’s forehead before reaching for the baby shampoo. You poured a tiny amount into your palm and worked a gentle lather before massaging it into his soft baby hair. He blinked at you, watching with wide-eyed fascination as you worked the bubbles through his fine strands.

"He’s so intrigued by everything," Sunghoon mused, a soft smile gracing his lips.

"He likes watching the bubbles," you whispered, amused. Sure enough, your little one cooed at the sight of the foamy lather as you moved on to washing his tiny body. His hands reached out, attempting to grasp the soapy water, but all he managed to do was create more bubbles.

As you rinse the soap away with lukewarm water, your baby lets out a confused little whimper, his lips parting as if he is about to protest.

"Oh, you liked those bubbles, huh?" Sunghoon chuckled, rocking him gently.

"It's okay, baby," you cooed softly, kissing his damp head. "We'll have more bubbles tomorrow."

Once bath time was over, you reached for the fluffy baby towel resting on the counter. Sunghoon carefully lifted your little one from the bath, wrapping him snugly in the soft fabric before carrying him to the nursery.

He laid your baby on the changing table, his movements practiced and careful. You handed him a fresh diaper and onesie while he worked on drying those tiny limbs with utmost gentleness.

"You're so good at this," you murmured, watching as he applied a small amount of baby lotion, rubbing it into those soft baby rolls with delicate hands.

Sunghoon glanced at you with a smile. "Well, I have a great wife."

You blushed slightly as you reached for the baby brush, combing through his damp hair in soft, soothing strokes. Your baby yawned, his tiny mouth forming a perfect little ‘o’ as his eyes drooped sleepily.

Sunghoon scooped him up into his arms, pressing a kiss to his baby-soft forehead. "All fresh and clean," he whispered.

Your little one let out a content sigh, snuggling into Sunghoon’s chest as sleep quickly overtook him.

You exchanged a look with Sunghoon, your heart swelling at the sight. Moments like these—simple, quiet, and full of love—were what you cherished most.

"I love you," you whispered, gently kissing Sunghoon’s cheek.

"I love you more," he replied softly, rocking your son as he drifted off completely.

And in that warm, peaceful moment, you knew there was nowhere else you'd rather be.

Sunghoon swayed gently, his arms cradling your now-sleeping baby boy, whose tiny fingers had found their way to gripping the fabric of his dad’s shirt. You smiled at the sight—Sunghoon looked so at peace, his expression soft and full of love as he stared down at your son.

“Do you want me to put him down?” you whispered, brushing a few strands of damp hair from your baby’s forehead.

Sunghoon hesitated, his hold instinctively tightening for a moment. “Mmm… maybe just a little longer,” he murmured, his voice barely above a breath.

You let out a soft giggle. “You say that every time.”

“I know,” he admitted, flashing you a sheepish smile. “But he’s so small, and warm, and…” He trailed off, looking down at your baby’s peaceful expression. “I still can’t believe he’s ours.”

Your heart swelled at his words. Stepping closer, you rested your head against Sunghoon’s shoulder, wrapping your arms around his waist. He leaned into your touch, kissing the top of your head.

“You’re such a good dad,” you whispered against his shoulder.

Sunghoon let out a soft chuckle. “You think so?”

“I know so,” you reassured him, lifting your head to meet his gaze. “The way you hold him, the way you talk to him, the way you look at him… He already knows how loved he is.”

Sunghoon exhaled softly, his eyes shining with emotion. “I just want to be the best for him. For both of you.”

“You already are.” You cupped his cheek, rubbing your thumb against his smooth skin before pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. He sighed into the kiss, his free hand gently resting against your back as he deepened it slightly, savouring the moment's warmth.

A tiny whimper broke the quiet, and you both froze.

Sunghoon quickly pulled back, eyes wide as he glanced down at your son, who had stirred slightly but was still sound asleep. You both chuckled, relieved that your moment of affection hadn’t woken him.

“Guess we should put him down now,” Sunghoon whispered.

You nodded, stepping back as Sunghoon carefully lowered your baby into his crib. He adjusted the blanket over his slight frame, brushing his knuckles softly against his chubby cheek.

“Sleep well, little guy,” he murmured.

You both lingered momentarily, watching your son breathe softly, his lips slightly parted in sleep. Then, hand in hand, you quietly left the nursery, closing the door just enough to let a sliver of warm light peek through.

As soon as you reached your shared bedroom, Sunghoon turned to you with a grin, stretching his arms above his head. “I think I deserve a reward for being such a great dad,” he teased.

“Oh?” You raised an eyebrow, amused. “And what kind of reward are you thinking?”

Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. “A cuddle session,” he said, his voice dipping playfully. “Just you and me.”

You giggled, melting into his embrace. “You are just as needy as the baby, huh?”

Sunghoon hummed, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Maybe,” he admitted, guiding you towards the bed. “But I don’t hear you complaining.”

You sighed, settling into his warmth as you lay down, his arms securing you against him. “Never,” you whispered.

And as Sunghoon pressed one last lingering kiss to your forehead, you let yourself relax, safe in the warmth of his love—just like your baby was in his crib.

my perm taglist<3 <- request here

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[bunny-jpeg]

sinful sentences (one)

george russell - "oh, is that how you like it?"

tags: smut/pwp, giving & loving!george, established relationship, sundresses, (house)wife kink, body worship, mild dom!george, (slight) dirty talk, missionary, after-care

the sinful sentences catalogue

george was always more focused on giving you the pleasure he thought you deserved. to let it mount higher and higher until you felt the heavens of orgasm.

but after a year of dating, you still yearned to know what made george squirm. what made his toes curl and his cock throb. the thing about george was that if he didn't want you to

and then it all started with a pretty purple sundress.

"listen, i don't get why i am the end-all be all of baking around here!" you chirped into the phone with his nestled between your shoulder and ear, "literally i say that i remember what bluey looks like and now i'm making a cake for a two year old!" you were bent over as you took the first cake out of the over. you wore soft coloured oven mitts and a matching apron. when you were upright once more with the cake in hand. you almost jumped when you became aware of george's presence behind you.

you managed to put the cake down on top of the stove and look over to see your boyfriend of the last three years staring at you with eyes like saucers. you said on the phone, "hey, mum, i'll call you later. george looks like he just saw a ghost." then hung up the phone and put it on the white counter top nearby. you closed the oven and took off the mitts then the apron.

"what's... all this?" he asked as he looked around the kitchen, to take his eyes off of your beautiful body for a moment. he could feel the heat rise in his body, and it wasn't just the heat from the oven.

george didn't know where the hell you got that dress, and who in their right mind sold it to you. but he loved it! it was short sleeves and buttoned up to the neck. it was a lilac colour with a small checkered pattern. it screamed a sense of vintage that went right to his cock. he didn't want you to think less of him, he loved that you held two degrees and worked hard every day. but to see this small slice of domestic bliss, it made him tense up.

"remember my cousin. the cousin with the kid... not that cousin with the kid. the other one." you tried to explain in the least amount of words.

george dumbly nodded.

"i open my mouth and now i'm making a bluey cake for a toddler." you chuckled as you placed your hands on your hips, "and i have to go to the party... i mean you're free to come too, but that means you gotta see my aunt and that never goes well." you shook your head a little.

"is it a costume party and you're going as a housewife?" he asked to dispelled some of the tension in his body. he gestured to you, "the dress and everything."

the pieces started to come together and you knitted your brows for a moment before you made a 'o' shape with your mouth at the realization, "oh, is that how you like it?"

"wait-"

you giggled, "oh, george. you're so cute." you leaned over to turn off the oven and approached your lover. the freshly baked cake was left abandoned- it needed to cool after all. you reached for him and pressed your chest up against his, "does someone have a thing for housewives."

his expression was shocked as he tried to explain away every aspect of it, "i don't want you thinking that i want you to be some submissive housewife, i love that you was passionate and you have goals. i want you more than just some woman chained to the-" and you silenced him with a heated kiss. you held onto him tightly and he melted a little into the kiss. he felt the slight tightness in his chest.

when you pulled away, you laughed a little, "it's alright george, you're allowed to have a little... soft spot, for it. i know your true beliefs, but it's okay to have sexual fantasies about me as your stay-at-home wife." you trailed a hand down the front of his chest, you could feel the hammering heart. you giggled further, "i guess i finally know what gets you going. what makes those gears turn."

he swallowed, "that's not the only thing." and reached to hold you by the small of your back, "but i can't help myself when you're dressed like this. where did you get this dress?"

"i liked the sleeves, wouldn't get sunburnt in austin this year." you smiled at him, "i guess i didn't take into account that my boyfriend would be turned on by it. but i guess i should be calling you my husband."

"say that again."

"husband."

"again."

"my husband, george russell." and you yelped when he picked you up and got you in a position to carry you away from the kitchen and towards the bedroom. you kicked out your legs a little but george patted you on the ass.

"don't squirm too much, afraid i'll drop you." he felt like he was a predator running on instinct. little rational thought was coursing his thoughts. the direction was simple: get you on the bed and get you naked. the dress was beautiful, but your pussy was even better. he dropped you on the bed and pulled away for you to get a full view of him as he tugged at his belt.

you felt the heat in your cheeks, it near stung and it only made your core soaked as you started to undo the front buttons of your dress. you had a hunch that the normally calm, mild mannered george wanted to just rip those buttons out of the seams. so your hands moved fast.

"you're beautiful. my beautiful wife. look at you, you were bent over the stove like a good girl." he licked his lips, he never imagined he could vocalize words like that. talk to you that way. but as he watch you grow more desperate to get out of your clothes, he knew that you loved it. the filth on his tongue.

slowly you two got undressed, the words only furthered the most that george felt the heat rise in his body. you unwrapped yourself perfectly for him. the sight of you as you soon laid nude on your shared bed. you looked perfect, you looked like the ideal wife for him. he couldn't help himself, not when such a wonderful, beautiful woman was laid out for him.

he was on the bed with you and you helped him get his briefs off. both naked, there was a slight tussle in the sheets as you felt him up and he did the same. he said lowly to you, "you're beautiful. look at you, all those curves, every inch of you. you look like a good proper wife." his tone curled in your brain and made your stomach flip, "maybe at the end of the season, i should make you my wife." he kissed at your neck, "lovely in white."

your core felt soaked from his words. you ended up on your back and looked up at him with a throb in your core. you felt hot all over, hot in a way that made you have a slight tremor in your soul. you replied, "i'm glad you find it hot, george. seeing me as your wife, being all domestic for you." you inched up the bed a little until your head was in the pillows. you eyed up at him and smiled a little.

he got on top of you and your legs around his waist. he gazed at you lovingly, "it does something to me, i can't help it. the sight of you, how at ease you looked. it made me want you, all of you." he hiked your hips a little and slowly he sank into you. his cock hard as it pushed inside of you. he tensed up for a moment, lust clouded those beautiful eyes of his. he leaned over you and admired your features as your expression changed as he slotted his cock into you. you felt heavenly, like a dream as he moved against you slowly.

"george."

"i know, my wife." he said, the words came off his tongue so easily even though you were his girlfriend, "you looked amazing in that dress. you, me, and a nice place back home. somewhere quiet, raise a family." his pace picked up in intensity. you felt something curl inside of you at the notion of that, if that was a reality he wanted or not, you weren't too sure. but, it made you feel a flush of hot all over.

you moaned a little and reached for the covers. you held onto it them as he thrusted against you. he moved against your body like he had done it a million times before. you loved the feeling, the shape of him against you. the heaven that bloomed in your soul as the two of you moved together. your legs tightened around his waist. his pace increased and you groaned loudly.

"you like that, honey? do you like the idea of that. away from all of this. i know we both love the rush of racing, but to be tucked away somewhere just the two of us. finally get that dog, maybe have a few kids. quite the life, huh." the words were warm, not painfully erotic. but just enough to leave a further warmth in your core as he moved against you. he admired you, loved you. you were the perfect woman for him. he felt almost honoured to be able to fuck you, to hold you in such an intimate way.

you nodded, "fuck, george." you met his pace and soon his chest was pressed up against yours. the pleasure flowed between you two as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. the two of you moved together, the two of you kissed deeply together. you moaned into his mouth and he held onto your sides tightly. but, not tight enough to harm you.

he'd never hurt you.

"i need to buy you more sundresses." he chuckled lowly, "i'd say you should wear that one to the paddock, but i think you'd catch a few stares." he kissed you on the lips for a brief moment as he moved against you, guided your body up against his cock, "you'd look too good, no one would be taking photos of the race. only photos of you. you'd be far too beautiful."

"so i should be at home then?" you asked, playing into the fantasy of it all.

george pressed his nose against yours for a moment, "make me a few cookies to bring on the road." his breathing was increasing from the movements, "not the same as your sweet skin, but it'll tide me over until i get my hands on your soft hips again and let me have my way with you once more." his voice was low, but not in a scary kind of way. it rather left you feeling aroused.

the movements continued, as did the filthy language. the two of you felt hot towards one another. the kisses were painfully heavy as you combed your fingers through his soft hair. and his hands held onto your soft thighs and used it as leverage to fuck you heavier. he loved the feeling of you, you felt amazing. he panted a little heavier and kissed you once more.

the pleasure continued and you felt the fire in your core. you could feel the climax close. you moaned against him and held onto his shoulders, the two of you moved together. it was passion between two lovers as the two of you kissed one another deeply. you moaned against his lips and he thrusted against you.

"you feel so good." you panted, "i'll be your wife, i'll be your everything." you clenched around him, held onto his shoulders tightly and then kissed him. you came soon after and felt the crash of pleasure over you. it hit you all over and you moaned into the kiss. you near melted against him and let the feeling take over.

he continued to move against, he rocked against you further. he was near desperate to climax as well. it was something to see the resolve of george russell crack in favour of an intense need of sexual want. you looked at each other for a moment and he smiled at you. and you felt a zap of overstimulation through you.

you held onto him tightly and he rutted heavily against you. george looked gorgeous, those intense eyes on you made you chest melt and your eyes closed a little and your mouth opened a little more.

"my wife." he said before he worked his hips with a couple more thrusts before he finished inside of you. he rode out his orgasm and kissed at your sweaty collarbones. he loved the sound of your noises when he lightly grazed his teeth across your skin.

you really were perfect, the perfect woman for him. his future wife. he eventually slowed to a stop and lifted his head from you to admire you. he pushed his hair back, his pupils were a little dilated. he slowly pulled out and laid out next to you.

you panted as you curled up against one another. your leg over his thigh and his arm over your side, you composed yourself slowly, but felt a slight exhaustion from the intensity of it all. you said to him, "i'm going to have to remake the cake."

he chuckled lightly and kissed your warm cheek, "that's alright. i'll help you. no need to make it all alone. i can provide some help." and watched your eyes close once more.

you nodded, "but for now, a small nap. tired as anything." and snuggled up when george threw the blankets over the both of you. he kissed the tip of your nose and you smiled softly for a moment. you felt content.

as you fell into a light sleep due to the come down from the intense orgasm. he stroked your cheek lovingly and wondered what kind of wedding ring you would like. <3

[felassan]

Thread: Sylvia Feketekuty on the influences of Emmrich and the Mourn Watch

The rest of this post is under a cut due to length and possible spoilers.

Sylvia Feketekuty: "I think I've gotten to most people’s questions, and I promised I'd talk about influences on Emmrich and the Mourn Watch before wrapping this up. So here we go! It took me while to figure out Emmrich's character voice. I'm happy with where I landed, but he was a tough one. A few books helped me out. MR James' Collected Ghost Stories (1890-1930) My favourite ghost stories of all time. James excels at building dread, at writing people finding strange things in books, or around the corner, or in the old lane at night."

"He was also an antiquarian and a scholar at Cambridge. I wanted Emmrich and the Watchers to feel formal, but not like they were from another epoch. James’ language, polished by a rich academic career, was an excellent benchmark for 'older, but not ancient'. E.g.: if using contractions was appropriate for James' time, it was appropriate for Emmrich. It freed me up, mentally speaking, to deploy them whenever they improved cadence or flow. Thomas Ligotti's Songs of a Dead Dreamer Fellow Ligotti fans may already be thinking Emmrich doesn't really share the philosophy underpinning Ligotti's work, and they’re right. However!"

"Songs of a Dead Dreamer is filled with fantastical imagery that’s a bit lusher than that found in Ligotti's later works. It was really good at bringing to mind the kind of moody, expansive dreamscapes I think our necromancer mentally occupies. It’s from a different book (Noctuary), but Ligotti’s “The Spectral Estate” also merits a mention. If you plunked it down in front of Emmrich to read, he’d know exactly what it was on about. The Romantic poets (or any poetry on similar themes: overpowering swells of emotion, the grandeur and awe of nature, love and loss and grief.) Palgrave's Golden Treasury was usually in reach."

"If I was in a jam, or psyching myself up for a scene, sometimes I’d read a few poems to get into the proper head space. Or just for the pleasure of it. Poems are great! Please take a link to Shelley's "A Dream of the Unknown", one of my favourites. [link] I also read a few books by morticians and funerary directors. A friend lent me Smoke Gets in your Eyes and From Here to Eternity by Caitlin Doughty (probably the most famous mortician on the internet?) I also checked out Nine Years Under: Coming of Age in an Inner-city Funeral Home by Sheri Booker."

"These books were full of lessons about how people react to death, how different cultures treat it, how anger and grieving express differently but come from the same wellspring. Very humane looks at how we deal with loss and other people. Moving on to non-books: My First Cadaver, a podcast of stories from medical students and medical professionals."

"I listened to a few episodes My First Cadaver, and there were some incredible tales in there. Gross (I could never be a doctor) but incredible. And I was struck by was how much students working on donated cadavers got attached to them. I can’t remember if it was in MFC or not, but there was one story about a medical student introducing his date to the cadaver he was working on like she was a beloved aunt. It was very sweet! Peter Cushing in Horror of Dracula (1958) and The Curse of Frankenstein (1957) These films are filled with handsome costumes, ominous sets, and the oversized passions I associate with gothic melodrama. Cushing's perfect in them."

"His portrayals of Van Helsing and Baron Frankenstein are brisk, determined, obsessive, and brimming with energy; they’re scholars who are experts in their field, yet still men of action. They felt like natural touchstones for a professor suddenly called to grand adventure. I also ended up reading Cushing's memoirs. In a bit of strange synchronicity, there were similarities between his life and traits I'd already decided to give Emmrich. Cushing came from a working-class family, had an intense phobia (his was of the dark), was vegetarian, and so on. I'd had no idea."

"(Humans tend to pattern-match, but it was a little eerie.) A side note: I've seen people speculate Emmrich was based off of Vincent Price. There’s a bit of the good Mr. Price in there, but Cushing got to play more heroic roles than he did. He felt more right to me. A second side note: did you know Vincent Price was a gourmand who loved to entertain? He and his wife Mary put out a beautiful cooking book, A Treasury of Great Recipes, filled with warm and charming commentary. If you're interested in that kind thing, highly recommended!"

"One influence when I was pitching the Memorial Gardens to the rest of the team was Swan Point cemetery in Rhode Island. It's where Lovecraft was buried, and like many a Weird Tales nerd before me, I was curious and wanted to see it."

"I wasn't prepared for was how lush the plants and flowers were, and how beautifully landscaped everything there is. Swan Point is a historical burial place, and also a carefully tended garden and arboretum. It stunned me. I'd never been in a cemetery like it. Emmrich complains about Hezenkoss making him play complicated wargames when they were students, and that one in particular had three separate rulebooks."

"I've seen people guess whether I was referencing D&D or Warhammer 40K. D&D was formative, and I know a frankly embarrassing amount about WH40K at this point (No regrets. Necrons and Admech 4-ever.*) But the origin is even sillier. *Why yes, Mechanicus 2 IS my most anticipated upcoming game. I used to own the first edition of a board game called Mansions of Madness, and was supposed to learn the rules so I could lead my friends through it. But come the day, I’d procrastinated, and was running short on time."

"Fantasy Flight's previous game in the same vein was Arkham Horror, and AH is not a simple game. But I remember being hopeful, as I peeled the shrinkwrap off, that maybe MoM would be easier to learn than AH. Have streamlined rules, or fewer things to remember. Then the top popped off, and three separate rulebooks fell out and slithered to the floor. (The DAV game’s not meant to be MoM, but the absurdity of that moment stuck with me.) (It's not the game's fault, by any means, that I was unprepared, and the session went as well as it could have with me flipping through the books going "Okay wait...hold on...I think that was here...no, wait.") The Nevarran hazelnut torte recipe is actually a family recipe from my grandmother, on my father's side. I’m beyond delighted people have actually made it. (Our recipe uses metric measurements, but the DA style guide uses imperial, so I was worried about the conversion. Looks like it went okay.)"

"On my mother's side of the family: my grandmother cooked and cleaned for a living, and my grandfather was a butcher. He passed away before I was born, and my grandmother when I was very young. So I gave Emmrich’s parents those professions as a little nod to the grandmother I only knew very little, and the grandfather I never met at all. I would’ve liked time with them both. And to end on a lighter note, "Ever thought of becoming a hat person?" is an extremely oblique reference to a line spoken to one of gaming's greatest characters: Murray, the demon skull from Curse of Monkey Island. (Curse is the first Monkey Island game I ever played, and therefore my favourite.)"

"Small bonus: here’s the music I listened to most while working on Emmrich and the Watchers. Some of it probably only makes sense to me, some of it seems thematically obvious. (I don’t have Spotify so best I can do is an itunes screenshot.)"

"Not on the screenshot because I changed PCs halfway through, but I also listened to a lot of music from Cryo Chamber, a great dark ambient label. [link] And their sister label, Cryo Crypt, which does "Dark Fantasy Dungeon Synth." [link] And also Allicorn IS on the screenshot but I think I've listened to his stuff on every game I've worked on by now. [link]"

[thread source link]

---

Bonus: follow-up comments and exchanges -

User: "I KNEW the torte was somebody’s family recipe!!" // Sylvia: "My only regret is that the icing was originally a stove-boiled icing made with eggs and chocolate and butter emulsified together. I couldn't get it working, however, these past few years. I think we lost some crucial part of the steps when trying to write out a clean copy. So I went with ganache for the game, because I didn't want to print something that didn't work, and I've used ganache myself. It's good! But I'm going to try to replicate the original again one day." [source, two] // User: "I noticed that sometimes, ingredients doesn't react the way they used to and part of that is probably due to some "industrial" changes in the recipe for ingredients like chocolate or butter to cut the cost of making them, imho. It's sad because it means we lost a very specific way to do things..." // Sylvia: "Yeah, that was the first thing a friend who bakes a lot suggested. I wonder if I was a victim of "Buttergate" when Canadian cows were being fed so much palm oil butter was harder to spread as a result. After a long search, I found a local place that makes butter that actually tastes good, which is an incredibly sad sentence to have to type out." [source, two]

Sylvia, re: Vincent Price being a gourmand and his cooking book: "It's extremely cool. My library had a copy and I remember it being pretty big, too." [source]

User: "I was following this thread and I'm delighted about all of these facts and information. Thank you for sharing!" // Sylvia: "Aw thank you! And thanks for reading, it was nice to unpack all the stuff kicking around my mental attic." [source]

User, re: MFC: "Sorry to post again but this one got me- my mom is a doc, and i remember her telling me stories of the cadaver she worked on (evidence of different surgeries she had, the cancer she had, etc), and mom always ended her stories saying how thankful she was to her. It really does stick around." // Sylvia: "No need to apologize, I liked hearing about your mom's reaction! It's exactly what I kept hearing and reading about, a sense of reverence for the gift." [source]

Sylvia: ""The irony that I had to convert the measurements back to metric" Haha. I tried to get as close as I could. Here's the written down metric version of the cake batter. It's an older recipe so I had to try to guess what a "knife tip" ended up as." [source]

A user on the torte being a family recipe: "Oh my gosh 🥹 that makes it all even lovelier!" // Sylvia: "Thanks! I was really excited to share the family recipe, it's a bit of work but it's one of my favorites." [source]

A user under the post about MR James' Collected Ghost Stories: "So you're probably the one behind the mysterious bronze whistle, I take it?" // Sylvia: "Haha, guilty. Cameron Harris, our editor, helped me figure out a phonetic guide to the latin. (If it fails anywhere it's very likely my fault.)" [source]

User: "As an avid Emmrich lover & someone trying to write some Emmrich POVs in my Emrook fanfictions, I can not thank you ENOUGH for this wealth of info / music inspo to go off of" // Sylvia: "Thank you! (Seriously though some of those songs probably only make sense to me, they're not all thematically on point, but some are. Hope you enjoy!)" [source]

User: "As another "needs a million hours of droning ambient music to write" writer I appreciate these greatly" // Sylvia: "We both have good taste! 🎶" [source]

User: "Thank you for writing out this list!! Peter Cushing makes so much sense as an influence. I love the variety of media here, it gives me so much new stuff to check out!" // Sylvia: "Thank you for reading! If you do check out some of this stuff, hope you enjoy!" [source]

Sylvia: "thanks so much, and for reading the thread! It was fun to write." [source]

User: "Thank you for sharing these books!I was looking for a good ghost book" // Sylvia: "Thanks! Hope you enjoy James. "Oh, Whistle, and I'll Come to You, My Lad" was the first story of his I read and I'll never forget that experience." [source] // Sylvia: "I just love the mood James could create, so much." [source]

User: "ELECTRIC SIX MENTION" // Sylvia: "My greatest favorites, now and forever." [source]

Sylvia: "Please archive away, I am intent on deleting the account eventually but it'd be nice to know people could look this stuff up later if they're curious. (Future generations need to know which Atrium Carceri tracks I listened to!)" [source]

User: "Amongst many things, not the least of which is the gratitude and delight of having your fantastic insight into the writing process of Emmrich, my grandmother’s hazelnut torte is fantastically close to the Nevarran version which was a delightful discovery." // Sylvia: "Ah now nice. I assume she was also central/eastern European then? I suspect it was a popular recipe at a certain time." [source]

User: "As an ex-mortician turned game writer, this was a FASCINATING read!" // Sylvia: "Haha, I definitely took inspiration from morticians! (Thank you for checking it out, that thread got long)" [source]

[thread source link]

[pumpkinscustoms]

Year of the Snake LPS custom

Hello, you lovely people of Tumblr. I made another custom. Look at it. January 29th was the Lunar New Year that celebrated the start of the year of the snake! Yippee! It also happened to be my 24th birthday, meaning I'm now old, and I was born in 01, meaning my horoscope is a snake The 29th was triple cool for me because of everything that was happening! And then I got nerfed like Brigitta in 2019 which made me stop playing OW. I had a slight case of iron deficiency haha :sunglasses: I'm better now. I cannot be stopped.

I'm also adding some art commission slots in my shop sometime soon so if you want cool LPS-style art of your OCs, keep an eye out for those. I wanna buy a rice cooker and I need someone to fund that. That someone is you buying art from me >:)

Love you all weird Tumblr people. I still don't know how this site works, but I am learning. This place is weird.

[sharklovingaquarist]

Not surprising this is a one piece fan. Hey buddy, since you think feminists need to coddle you while women in Afghanistan are being told they cant TALK to each other anymore, let me hold your hand and read you some facts about mental health as a DIAGNOSED bipolar woman.

Statistically, while men kill themselves more, women attempt suicide more than men do. This can be attributed to men having more access to firearms and other lethal methods.

PTSD affects women more than men, but when you are introduced to PTSD it's often in the context of veterans

Women are more likely to be misdiagnosed when it comes to mental phenomena like autism, bipolar disorder, and cluster b disorders

And let's not forget post partum depression and psychosis, something men don't even know exists half the time.

I seriously did not get refused bipolar disorder medication due to being female all to hear some dude, who thinks it's an atrocity for males to experience human emotion, say that men have it SOOOO MUCH WORSE because they get sad sometimes and women dont cater to them anymore. I didn't get passed off as crazy while crying at the hospital because one of the staff harassed me all to hear men, who as swaddled like infants, cry about themselves whilst saying WE are selfish.

Men dont understand how much logic and basic critical thinking they lack. When men try to argue or make a point, that becomes so incredibly clear to me. You've only been able to ponder existence and comfort within our own perspective. Meanwhile, women are being refused hysterectomies because we're considered your breeding stock... and you don't think that harms our mental health? No, because the irony of that is, you don't see us as humans. Males are walking contradictions. You scream and shit your diapers about how you can't cry (even though emotional complexity and philosophy has been worded from the eyes of men for as long as it's existed) and how inhuman it is for you, and then turn around and normalize not seeing women within the same context of humanity.

Liberal feminists were the ones that gave you this rhetoric anyways. They took feminisms own wording and twisted it for you. You didn't even do the work, in such male fashion. And then in such male fashion YOU CLAIM ITS WOMEN WHO DONT CARE ABOUT YOU... WHAT!? And that also proves how women have to feed you like fucking 2 year olds. Yall are so braindead from being babied that you can't see how bad you are at lying.

Men are so fucking lazy. You all just regurgitate everything you hear. Listen, bud, society will always cater to your being. Therefore, stats will be worded in order to cater to your emotions. What do men have to be sad about compared to women? You can't get a girlfriend? Imagine your husband of 10 years leaving you after you get cancer. Get off your ass, and do some research on actual stats. Claiming women are these evil selfish creatures is so ironic, so ironic it's hard to wrap my head around. Women are being raped and killed, but you want me to care about one statistic that is worded to victimize you?

When you wake up and see that men act no different than 5 year old children, it's laughable. Laughable yet, it makes you want to rip your hair out. Look at your post I'm replying to. You're filled with emotion. You can state the simplest shit that isn't even true and be believed. But when women are raped 1 in 4 by MEN, it's actually not all men, and we need to believe the good ones... shut the fuck up you spoiled brat. You are so bloated from being spoonfed that you can't even see your misogyny and self-absorption.

All you prove to me is how desperate you pigs are to have your emotional support women back. Have a wife as a toy that strokes your hair and cleans your dishes and cooks your food and carries your child like she's a god damn slave while you turn a blind eye. Remind me who was more likely to get a lobotomy? Remind me who hysteria targeted. Men can ignore basic facts but use one statistic out of context, and suddenly, it's a law of nature. Going into the feminist movement and saying women are selfish because they dont care about a made-up issue without even looking at it, it factual really shows the priorities within male brains to me. You've always portrayed women as more mentally simplistic and animal. You still THINK that subconsciously or not, yet you expect me to care about a fantasy you made up because you can't handle not getting attention?

Women have never been portrayed as complex people you always have, keep it cute, and keep it mute, you hypocrite

men supporters are like it's so unfair that women get to cry and cut themselves and men are only allowed to show their feelings by mass shooting

[writing-nothing-but-spilled-ink]

No cause you know what would be funny as fuck Ras Al ghul randomly showing up to the Wayne Manor and just letting himself in doesn't wait for anyone to let him in and he doesn't even tell Talia he's stopping by Wayne Manor and it's the anniversary of Jason's rebirth and Ras accidentally missed Damian's birthday because he was out of the country so here he is just waltzing into the manor here's how I think it'll go

Ra's: breaks into Wayne Manor and bee-lines to the batcave cause his spies told him Damian and Jason were down there

Bruce:has his back turned to the entrance in the middle of lecturing Jason for being reckless and for rigging his batmobile to shoot fucking glitter bombs whenever he tried to fire any kind of projectile

Jason: come on it was funny and it worked honestly I thought you'd be happy no one's dead they're just covered in glitter

Bruce: eye twitching

Damian: notices Ras just casually waltzing into the bat cave

Damian: hello grandfather

Bruce:spins around to find Ras in his lair bracing himself for a fight or some type of bad news only for ras to by pass him entirely and beeline to Jason and Damian

Ra's: snaps his fingers and assassin's come out of nowhere seemingly appearing from the shadows one is holding a bear cub with a little bow on its head and hands it to damian and steps back meanwhile another assassin appears with a giant stack of first edition leather bound classic literature and some rare ones that are almost unheard of to have

Ra's: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY GRANDSON'S :)

Bruce: is baffled because why is Ras calling Jason his grandson where did he get a bear cub why is he gifting Damian a bear cub, Damian's birthday was a month ago wtf Bruce's eye is twitching

Jason: oooo these are really hard to get, oh all of these are leather bound this is awesome thanks gramps though it's not really my birthday is your memory going old man

Ra's: this is the anniversary of your rebirth

Jason: ...

Damian: I appreciate the gift grandfather I shall name this bear lilly

Bruce: Damian I ... Look okay.. it's nice your .. his eye is twitching and he's trying to not lose his patience because again wtf.. grandfather has put an effort into this uh. Gift but you simply can't keep a bear in the manor much less in Gotham it's a wild animal

Damian: 😐 so isn't Jason and we keep him around and he gets to waltz around Gotham and the manor

Jason: hey listen here ya little shit

Bruce: exasperated first off your brother is not an animal secondly I'm not sure it's legal to keep a bear cub as a pet in Gotham

Damian: like running around Gotham dressed as a bat to beat up bad guys is legal, or that time you purposely broke into Arkham asylum to free Selina Kyle because her input on your suit was just sooooo important

Bruce: looks to Alfred

Alfred: well we do have the land space to build a sanctuary for the cub and the permits it would be quite an easy task to say the Wayne foundation is funding a bear sanctuary

Damian: ☺️ thank you Alfred

Bruce: turns to Ras why would you gift Damian a bear cub

Ra's: it was on his wishlist, and only the best for my grandsons, also you owe me child support

Bruce: ready to throw hands at this point

Alfred: smirks

Jason: trying really hard not to laugh

Ra's: ofcourse I'll let it go if you let the boy keep the bear cub in fact I have another gift but it won't be arriving for about a week 🙂.. he then turns to Damian you should give your mother a call she said something about wanting to plan something I'm really not sure what it is she's on about but regardless I think she'd like your input ... Well actually both your inputs

Bruce: sighs fine they get to keep the bear and we'll build the damn sanctuary but Damian i expect you to have it at least potty trained and do not under any circumstances let it in the kitchen I do not need a repeat of last time you got a new pet

Ra's: happy that he's annoyed the fuck out of Bruce and got his grandsons Great gifts my job here is done he claps his hands and his assassins fade back into the shadows

Jason: already lounging on a couch reading

Damian: holding the bear in his arms and patting it let's go get you some apples covered in honey 😊 walks out the cave with the bear cub

[itzy-bitsy-spidey]

"Old enemies and spilled coffee pt.4"

Or "Something made a hole in my backyard pt 4"

Shadow the hedghog x reader (platonic)

Notes: I know I´m taking my time to actually make Shadow, well, do something, but we are right there, I swear. As always, if you want to be on the taglist leave a comment, and if you just want to leave a comment I don´t mind either.

Btw, idk if this is obvious but I am NOT proofreading anything of what I'm writing. Enjoy!

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

You had already taken your alien-ish friend out of the box and laid it down on your bed so that it would be more comfortable. Once again you had doubted yourself over how comfortable it could possibly be, but as long as it couldn´t act in a way that showed uncomformity then it would have to deal with what it was given.

You had agreed to have lunch at your uncle´s house the next day. But in the meantime you had texted your aunt Maddie to ask her to come over to the house you were staying in under the pretense that you would share some pastries and talk about life for a while.

And so you sat on the couch waiting for time to pass and hoping that Maddie would be there soon. And, just like an angel sent from heaven, the doorbell rang and you sprinted to open the door.

On the other side awaited your lovely aunt with a huge smile on her face which reflected your own excitement. Hugs that lasted a little more than necessary and greetings were exchanged, you invited her inside and prepared tea, all while she talked about how much you had grown, how much she had missed you, etc.

"So how´s life? Any cute work friend I should know about or something?" Of course that would be between the questions, it was an aunt´s classic.

"No, everything has been rather boring actually, I mean, I was working at the salon back at home last month because they were short on staff, but truthfully? The gossip was the only entretaining part" You answered as you stirred your coffee, she had chosen chamomille tea.

"Uhhh, does that mean you can braid my hair now?" She asked with a smile as she sipped her tea and proceded to add more sugar to it.

That was one of the reasons you loved Maddie so much (not the sugar part) but the fact that she never juged your style of working, you were a freelance artist, so all the time you weren´t actively working on a project you would spend doing some minor jobs. Usually people would be all over you telling you to ´get a real job´ or stuff like that, but never Maddie, she was your ride or die, you could tell her that you were gonna climb the Everest and she would cheer you from the bottom.

That was why it came so handy that she was a vet. She probably wouldn´t even question the fact that you had brought a weirdly shaped animal all the way across the state. She trusted you, and you trusted her.

"Maddie, there´s something you should know, and I need you to remain calm and trust me, okay?"

She looked at you for a few seconds, her expression getting serious, and as she looked you dead into your eyes she asked softly:

"Is it that you are gay?"

"What! No!"

"OH, sorry, I thought this was like you getting out of the closet or..."

"No, I didn´t mean that I´m not gay, that was not what I was going to tell you!"

"Wait, so you are gay then?"

"Does it matter?"

"No, I just thought that was the topic we were discussing"

At some point between the exchange you both had broken into laughter, and somehow half of your coffe laid then spilled onto the table.

"I-I am so confused hahaha" she tried to speak in between laughs, but you could see how she was struggling to breathe, laugh and talk at the same time.

While still in your happy state you cleaned up the coffee puddle with a rag and took in a few breaths to relax. Once there was air in your lungs once more, and she had calmed down as well, you continued.

"I brought an... animal with me from home, and it kind of seems to be in like a coma? I would appreciate it if you took a look at it." You explained.

"You brought an animal in a coma all the way to Green Hill? That could be very dangerous for it" She scolded you slightly as she got up from her seat to follow you to the bedroom.

"I know, but it´s like nothing I had ever seen before, and I only trust you for this"

"Does this have something to do with your mother not letting you keep pets? Because you are an adult, you can have pets if you take care of them"

You stood in front of the door and looked at her a little bit as if she had lost her mind.

"No, that´s not it, but you have to promise that you won´t say a word to nobody"

She answered an "I promise" under her breath and you opened the door slowly, allowing her into the room. Maddie didn´t scream, neither did she look back at you as she entered the room. You stayed a little behind, just waiting for some type of reaction.

Maybe if you had been by her side you would have seen the way she frowned, as every little detail on the creature in front of her fell in place perfectly with the description that Sonic, her son, had given her about the hedghog who tried to kill her husband.

She knew it was a dangerous being, but laying down on that bed among the fluffy pillows he just looked... so calm.

Silence reigned the room for a few moments, and for some reason you felt that as if the air had become thick. She approached Shadow and lifted his limbs one by one, making sure that none of his bones were broken, even squeezing a little harder than necesary. And then, Maddie turned around with a smile, walked up to you, ruffled your hair, told you that it was unlikely that the thing would be asleep for longer than three days and left with the excuse of having to buy groceries.

And so, after the sound of the front door closing, as you were looking the way your aunt had left you were once more on your own.

And, if you hadn´t turned back around, you would have probably missed the sight of red eyes fluttering open.

Taglist: @boogiemansbitch @vxllys @whoisgami @baby-bloos @sapphireravensworld

[grifffins]

🔮 The Fool’s Journey (Into Trouble) 🔮 | Ch. 5

Lilia Calderu x fem!reader

summary: A matchmaking event, a reckless plan, and a game that cuts a little too deep—because playing with fire always has consequences

wc: 8.3k (Chapter 5/?)

a/n: I'm reading all the reviews you're leaving, and it's filling me with so much joy, seriously, thank you so much! I promise I'll eventually get around to replying to them all, but for now, just know that I've seen them, I appreciate every single one, and they are absolutely fuelling me to get these chapters out faster. If I had to stare at this chapter any longer, I was genuinely going to throw myself off a cliff, so here it is before I lose my mind. I don’t know, I hope you like it!

And just a heads-up—ratings have officially gone up 🔥 y'all better handle this with care.

Ch. 4 ch. 6

also on ao3

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The next few weeks flew by in a blur of routine and mild frustration. I’d gotten used to maneuvering on crutches though not without my fair share of near-disasters and before long, I was downgraded to a boot. A clunky, annoying boot, but it was better than nothing. And now, I was almost out of it, counting down the days until I could finally move like a normal person again.

Lilia had been... Lilia. Ever present, always hovering just enough to make sure I wasn’t doing anything too reckless, but never crossing the line into anything that could be considered more. There were lingering touches, soft smiles, and the occasional meaningful glance, but nothing had really progressed.

And, honestly? That was fine.

Mostly.

Between the shop being surprisingly busy and my friends constantly roping me into their latest schemes, fundraisers, work drama, and questionable life choices. I barely had time to dwell on it. I liked keeping busy, helping where I could, and throwing myself into distraction after distraction. It was easier than thinking about how much I wanted Lilia but didn’t know how to move things forward.

Some days, it felt like we were stuck in this comfortable, frustrating limbo. We'd laugh, we’d bicker, we'd work side by side in the shop, but there was always this invisible line neither of us was willing to cross.

Still, things were good.

Lilia was still a mystery I was determined to solve, even if she sometimes acted like an impenetrable fortress. But there were moments, tiny cracks in the walls she put up. The way she’d refill my tea without asking, or how she’d linger at the end of my shift, pretending to read while really just making sure I got home safely. The way she’d watch me when she thought I wasn’t looking, like she was thinking about something.

And those moments? They were enough to keep me going. For now.

One afternoon, as I hobbled around the shop stocking shelves, I sighed dramatically. "Lilia, please, I cannot wait to be out of this boot. I feel like Frankenstein’s monster."

Lilia smirked from behind the counter, flipping through an old grimoire. "You only have to wait till this afternoon."

I shot her a glare. "Rude."

She chuckled, but there was that usual softness behind it, the kind that made my heart skip a little. "You'll be back to your reckless self soon enough. I'm sure I'll regret it."

I grinned. "Oh, you will. First thing I'm doing is dancing barefoot on the counter just to spite you."

Lilia rolled her eyes but didn't argue. Instead, she just said, "I'll keep the first aid kit ready."

I snorted, limping toward the register. "You should always have that thing on standby with me around."

"Trust me," she said dryly. "I do."

The bell above the shop door jingled, and before I could process it, Jen and Agatha waltzed in like they owned the place.

"Y/n!" Jen beamed. "Still hobbling around, I see."

Agatha leaned on the counter, eyeing Lilia with that devilish glint in her eye. "And, you're still under Lilia's watchful eye, huh?"

Lilia arched a brow. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

Jen smirked at me. "Oh, it's not a bad thing at all."

I groaned. "Guys, please."

Agatha ignored me, grinning. "Anyway, y/n, you up for helping me with something later?"

I sighed, already knowing I was about to get roped into something ridiculous. "What is it this time?"

Jen wiggled her brows. "Oh, you know, just a little... matchmaking event."

I blinked. "No."

Lilia, to my absolute horror, looked very interested. "Matchmaking?"

Agatha smirked. "Yeah. You in?"

Lilia, without missing a beat, looked directly at me and said, "I think y/n should go."

My jaw dropped. "What?!"

Lilia’s lips curled into that maddening smirk. "It could be... fun."

I groaned, slamming my head onto the counter. "I hate all of you."

Lilia just sipped her tea, looking far too pleased with herself. "You'll survive, baby."

“What exactly is a matchmaking event?”

Jen leaned against the counter, grinning like the devil she clearly was. "Oh, y/n," she purred, eyes sparkling with mischief. "A matchmaking event is exactly what it sounds like."

I narrowed my eyes at her. "And why, exactly, do you think I need to attend one?"

Agatha smirked, completely ignoring my very valid concern. "It's a charity event, actually. Think of it like speed dating, but fancier, cocktails, music, a little light mingling." She waved a hand dramatically. "People will bid on dates, there'll be matchmaking games, the whole romantic shebang."

I groaned. "You have to be kidding me."

Billy, who had apparently appeared out of thin air (or just snuck in without me noticing), clapped his hands together. "Oh no, she's not kidding, and I am so excited for this."

Lilia, who had been sipping her tea silently this whole time, finally spoke up, eyes fixed on me in that infuriatingly calm way she had. "I think it’s an excellent idea."

I gaped at her. "Et tu, Lilia?!"

She shrugged, setting her cup down with a smirk. "You did say you were bored."

Agatha nodded sagely. "Exactly! And what better way to pass the time than by meeting some... interesting people?"

I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. "Oh my God, no. I am not getting auctioned off to the highest bidder like a damn prize goat."

Jen laughed. "Oh, come on. It’s for charity! Think of it as... networking."

Billy wiggled his brows. "With benefits."

Lilia quirked an eyebrow, but there was something sharp in her eyes now, something that made my stomach flip. "You never know, y/n," she said smoothly, "maybe you'll find someone... intriguing."

I stared at her, heat rising to my cheeks. Was she actually encouraging this?

I pointed an accusing finger at the coven. "You’re all just doing this to watch me suffer, aren’t you?"

Agatha grinned. "Absolutely."

Billy winked. "One hundred percent."

Jen shrugged. "You should be used to it by now."

I sighed, sinking onto the nearest chair. "This is actually my worst nightmare."

Lilia, standing far too composed and far too smug, leaned against the counter. "You'll do fine, baby."

And the way she said it, soft, teasing, but with just enough of an edge, made me wonder if she was enjoying this a little too much.

I stared at Lilia for a long moment, watching the way she casually sipped her tea, completely unbothered by the absolute chaos the coven was throwing at me. Mixed signals? Oh, she was full of them. She’d spent weeks hovering, making sure I didn’t overdo it, looking after me with a quiet protectiveness, and now she was totally fine with me flirting with other people?

Okay, Lilia.

Fine. If she wanted to play it cool, I could play it colder.

With a wicked smirk, I crossed my arms and leaned back into my chair. "Alright," I said, shrugging. "I'll do it."

The coven exploded.

"YES!" Billy practically fist-pumped.

Jen beamed. "Oh, this is going to be so good."

Agatha cackled. "I knew you'd come around."

But I didn’t take my eyes off Lilia, watching for any flicker of emotion behind that carefully composed exterior of hers. She raised a brow, looking mildly impressed but ultimately unfazed. “Good for you,” she said, nodding. “You’ll enjoy yourself.”

I wanted to scream.

Instead, I smiled sweetly. “Yeah, maybe I’ll meet someone intriguing, like you said.”

Lilia’s lips twitched, but she didn’t rise to the bait. “Perhaps.”

Ugh.

I was going to do this. Not because I wanted to, but because if Lilia was going to keep up this whole mysterious and unattainable older woman thing, then I was going to make her watch me flirt with someone else.

By the time I got back from the hospital that evening, boot-free and feeling like I had reclaimed my dignity, I was on a mission.

I went all out.

I pulled out one of my best dresses, the kind that hugged in all the right places, paired it with strappy low heels— I wasn’t about to push my luck after just recovering from a broken leg — and topped it all off with red lipstick. My hair was styled to perfection. 

I looked in the mirror and grinned. Damn, I missed dressing up.

Before I left, I snapped a quick selfie and sent it to the group chat.

Me: Ready to break hearts tonight.

Billy responded instantly.

Billy: BABE. I AM DEAD.

Jen: GIRL, THEY WON'T SURVIVE YOU.

Agatha: Show Lilia. Right now.

I rolled my eyes, typing back.

Me: No way. Let her suffer.

I grabbed my clutch, took one last glance in the mirror, and smirked.

Lilia Calderu had no idea what she was in for.

I arrived at the venue, the heels clicking confidently against the pavement as I made my way inside. The place was fancier than I expected, soft lighting, elegant decor, and the kind of crowd that screamed money meets desperation.

I spotted Agatha immediately, standing near the bar with a drink in hand, watching me approach with an impressed smirk. Her eyes swept over me from head to toe, and she let out a low whistle. “Damn, y/n. If I weren’t rooting for Lilia, I’d bid on you myself.”

I rolled my eyes, planting myself in front of her. “Alright, what do I need to do?” I asked, folding my arms.

Agatha grinned wickedly. “Eager, are we?”

I sighed, eyeing the bustling room. “Let’s just say I’ve been encouraged.”

She chuckled, handing me a glass of champagne like she hadn’t practically dragged me here. “Alright, here’s how it works. There are three... let’s call them options.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Go on.”

Agatha held up a perfectly manicured finger. “Option one—the bidding auction. People bid for a date with you.”

I groaned. “Hard pass.”

Ignoring me, she lifted a second finger. “Option two—the matchmaking questionnaire. You fill it out, they set you up with someone they think is compatible.”

I stared at her. “Do I look like someone who’s here for a deep connection?”

Agatha smirked. “No, you look like someone here to make a certain divination witch jealous as hell.”

I didn’t deny it. “And option three?”

Agatha smirked, holding up the final finger. “And then there’s option three... mingling, flirting, working the room.” She gestured grandly at the crowd. “And, honestly, that’s where you shine.”

I sighed, taking a slow sip of champagne. “And which one exactly do you want me to do?”

Agatha’s grin stretched impossibly wider. “Oh, baby, I didn’t bring you here to find your soulmate.” She winked. “I brought you here to make Lilia Calderu jealous as hell. So, option three it is.”

I arched a brow. “And if she doesn’t show up?”

Agatha shrugged. “Then at least you’ll have some fun and free champagne.”

I sighed, finishing my drink. “Fine. Let’s do this.”

Agatha grinned, looping her arm through mine. “That’s the spirit. Now, go mingle. And remember, eye contact, light touches, and laugh at everything.”

I groaned but let her pull me toward the crowd. This was going to be... interesting.

I took a deep breath, rolling my shoulders back and putting on my most dazzling smile. If I was going to do this, I was going to do it right.

Armed with another glass of champagne and Agatha’s ridiculous advice bouncing around in my head, I stepped into the crowd, letting myself glide from conversation to conversation. I laughed, I touched arms lightly, I made just enough eye contact to keep people interested without giving too much away.

And through it all, one thought lingered in the back of my mind.

Please show up, Lilia.

I scanned the room subtly, pretending to be fully invested in whatever some guy in a ridiculous suit was rambling about, but my heart wasn’t in it. I could feel the absence of her. Could feel the weight of her not being here.

The evening dragged on, and despite the flattering attention I was getting, more than I knew what to do with, there was an ache in my chest that wouldn’t quite go away.

I found myself standing near a group of women, effortlessly charming my way through another conversation, when I caught myself staring toward the entrance for the millionth time.

Nothing.

I sighed internally, feeling my excitement wane just a little.

But just as I turned back to my conversation, I caught a shift in the air. A presence.

And then I saw her.

Lilia Calderu, standing in the doorway like she owned the place, dressed in a simple but devastatingly effective black dress, nothing overly elegant, just effortlessly put together, the fabric skimming her figure in a way that made my mouth go dry. Her dark curls were loosely pinned up, a few strands escaping to frame her face, and those brown eyes of hers scanned the room with sharp intent, missing nothing.

My heart stopped.

She looked... incredible.

Her gaze locked onto me almost instantly, and I saw the way her eyes flickered over my dress, my posture, the easy way I was leaning against the table with a glass of champagne in hand and a smile that may have been a little too smug.

For a second, I thought she might turn around and leave, but instead, she walked in with the kind of calm, deliberate grace that made my stomach twist into knots.

Agatha, appearing by my side out of nowhere, whispered, “And there she is.”

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. “I thought she wasn’t coming.”

Agatha smirked. “She didn’t think she was coming. But then she realised she couldn’t let you have all the fun without her.”

I watched as Lilia made her way through the crowd, her expression unreadable, but her eyes, her eyes, never left me.

I forced myself to smirk, turning back to the group I was talking to, making a show of tossing my hair over my shoulder and laughing lightly at something someone said. But my heart was pounding.

Lilia Calderu was here. And she was watching me.

Game on.

I took a slow sip of my champagne, letting the bubbles fizz on my tongue as I kept my posture relaxed, my smile effortlessly charming. I could feel her gaze burning into me from across the room, sharp and assessing, but I didn’t look her way, not yet.

If she wanted to watch, I’d give her a damn show.

“So, y/n,” the woman beside me purred, leaning in just a little too close. “You never told me what you do for a living.”

I smiled, tilting my head coyly. “Oh, you know... a little bit of everything,” I said smoothly, trailing a finger along the rim of my glass. “Keeps life interesting.”

I swore I could hear Lilia’s scoff from across the room, and it took everything in me not to grin.

Agatha, who was lingering nearby, nudged me under the table with her foot. “Subtle,” she whispered, her tone practically dripping with glee. “She’s watching you like a hawk.”

I shrugged, pretending to be unaffected. “Let her.”

I felt her familiar presence before I even saw her. Lilia’s energy was intense, heavy and magnetic, drawing people in without her even trying. And then, just as I was laughing at something unremarkable, I saw her appear at the edge of my vision, standing beside the group with her arms crossed, a neutral expression on her face.

But her eyes? Her eyes told an entirely different story.

They flicked from the woman leaning too close to me, to my lips, and then, finally, locked onto mine.

I arched an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Lilia,” I greeted, taking another slow sip. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

She tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into that maddeningly subtle smirk. “Neither did I.”

Agatha, not missing a beat, grinned and chimed in. “Lilia! Finally decided to join the fun?”

Lilia’s gaze didn’t leave mine as she responded, “I suppose someone had to keep an eye on y/n.”

“Oh, I think I’m doing just fine on my own,” I shot back, playful but pointed.

Lilia’s lips twitched. “So I see.” Her gaze dragged over me, slowly, taking in every inch of my dress, my posture, the way I was standing just close enough to the woman next to me to imply interest.

I held her gaze, my heart racing. “You know, you could’ve just stayed home,” I teased, my voice dropping just a bit. “No need to check up on me.”

Lilia stepped closer, leaning in just enough that I could catch the faint scent of her perfume. “Maybe I just wanted to watch?”

I swallowed, my bravado slipping just slightly.

Agatha, watching the exchange like it was the best thing to ever happen to her, nudged me again and whispered, just for me to hear, “You’re losing, babe.”

I straightened up, regaining my composure, and smirked at Lilia. “Well, since you’re here... maybe I should introduce you to some people.” I gestured to the woman beside me, who looked suddenly very interested in this new development. “This is—”

But before I could finish, Lilia reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear, her fingers lingering a second too long. The touch sent a shiver down my spine.

“Enjoy yourself, baby,” she murmured, her voice low and full of something I couldn’t quite place. “Don’t let me stop you.”

And with that, she stepped back, leaving me absolutely reeling.

Agatha burst into laughter. “Oh my God, she is so playing you.”

I clenched my jaw, staring at Lilia’s retreating figure as she casually wandered toward the bar, looking as cool and composed as ever.

Oh, hell no.

I was not about to let Lilia Calderu waltz in here, throw me off my game with a well-timed smirk and a touch that lingered just enough to make my brain short-circuit. If she thought she could walk away with the upper hand, she had another thing coming.

I plastered on my best grin and turned back to the woman next to me, who was still watching the whole exchange with keen interest. “Sorry about that,” I said smoothly, letting my fingers graze lightly over the rim of my glass. “Old friend.”

Lilia, who had just reached the bar, tilted her head slightly at my words, clearly listening in.

The woman smiled, intrigued. “Old friends who stare at you like they’d rather eat you alive?”

I laughed, but it wasn’t entirely fake. “She’s... complicated.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lilia's shoulders tense slightly. Gotcha.

Agatha, still lingering with a devilish glint in her eye, whispered in my ear, “Atta girl. Make her work for it.”

With renewed confidence, I turned my full attention to my current company, leaning in just enough to make it seem like I was entirely absorbed in our conversation. I laughed at all the right moments, let my hand casually brush against hers, and even threw in a little coy lip bite for good measure.

And Lilia saw every second of it.

I could practically feel her eyes on me, dark and heavy, her carefully composed façade slipping by degrees.

When I dared a glance her way, I caught her watching with that unreadable expression, cool, detached, but with a flicker of something darker beneath. Jealousy? Annoyance? I wasn’t sure, but I liked it.

Still, she didn’t approach.

Fine. If she wanted to play it that way, I’d push a little harder.

I tilted my head back, laughing at something the woman said, making sure my posture screamed confidence, my neck arched just enough to be noticeable. And then, as casually as I could manage, I said loudly enough for Lilia to hear, “You know, I was a little nervous about coming tonight, but... I think I’m really enjoying myself.”

From across the room, I saw Lilia’s grip tighten around her glass.

Agatha, ever the enabler, had appeared at the bar, bit back a grin and leaned against the bar near Lilia. “So, Lilia,” she said innocently, “what brings you here tonight? Surely not jealousy?”

Lilia’s eyes flickered with something sharp, but she simply took a sip of her drink, her voice smooth as silk. “Just making sure y/n doesn’t get herself into too much trouble.”

“Oh, I think she’s handling herself just fine,” Agatha teased, shooting me a wink.

I smirked, running a hand down my hip and throwing Lilia a pointed glance before turning back to my conversation.

But before I could say another word, Lilia appeared at my side, moving silently and suddenly. Her presence was commanding, and I felt it in every nerve of my body.

“Y/n,” she said smoothly, her voice velvety and low. “A word?”

The woman next to me raised an eyebrow. “Oh,” she said, clearly amused. “I think I’ll leave you to it.”

I swallowed, my heart pounding, but I kept my smirk firmly in place. “Of course, Lilia.”

She led me away from the crowd, her hand resting lightly on my lower back, just enough to own the situation, just enough to remind me exactly who I was dealing with.

Once we were in a quieter corner, she turned to face me, crossing her arms and raising a brow. “Having fun?”

I shrugged, playing it cool. “I was.”

Lilia’s lips twitched, but her gaze sharpened, laced with something I couldn’t quite place. “You’re walking a fine line, baby.”

I tilted my head, stepping closer, pushing just enough. “Maybe I like the edge.”

Her eyes darkened, and for the first time all night, I wondered if I’d pushed too far. But instead of pulling away, she leaned in, her breath warm against my ear, sending shivers straight down my spine.

“Careful,” she murmured, voice low and dangerously smooth. “You might find yourself wanting something you can’t have.”

I swallowed hard, fighting to keep my cool. “Maybe I’m tired of waiting.”

Lilia’s expression remained unreadable, her head tilting just slightly.  “Getting ahead of yourself, baby.”

I exhaled sharply, biting back the urge to roll my eyes. “And you love dragging this out, don’t you?”

She made a soft, thoughtful sound, her gaze sweeping over me like she was deciding just how much she wanted to let me have. “Mmm. Maybe. Or maybe you’re seeing something that isn’t there.”

Heat curled in my stomach, frustration and want tangled together, her eyes flicked down to my lips for half a second, just long enough for me to notice, but before I could say anything, she let out a slow, almost teasing sigh and stepped back, putting space between us. “Go on, baby. Enjoy your night.”

And with that, she turned and walked away, leaving me reeling.

Agatha appeared at my side almost immediately. “So... that looked intense.”

I took a deep breath, my heart racing. “I think I might be losing.”

And honestly? I didn’t want to play this game anymore.

Agatha grinned. “No, babe. You’re both losing.”

I groaned. “Great.”

I huffed, crossing my arms tightly over my chest as I watched Lilia disappear back into the crowd with that same frustrating grace she always carried. I turned to Agatha, my lips pursed in irritation. “You know what? I don’t want to do this matchmaking thing.”

Agatha, ever perceptive, didn’t even argue. She just sipped her drink and gave me a knowing nod. “Of course, no problem.”

I blinked. “Wait, seriously?”

She smirked, leaning against the bar. “I know when you’ve had enough, y/n. And right now, you look like you're two seconds away from murdering someone.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair, suddenly feeling the weight of the evening pressing down on me. “Yeah, I think I just... I need to go home.”

Agatha nodded, patting my arm. “Good call. Go home, take a bubble bath, and—”

“Eat my feelings?”

Agatha grinned. “Exactly.”

I gave her a small smile, grateful she wasn’t pushing. “Thanks, Aggie.”

She winked. “Don’t worry, babe. We’ll gossip later.”

I nodded, weaving my way through the crowd, ignoring the curious glances and the lingering presence of Lilia somewhere in the room.

By the time I stepped outside, the cool night air hit my skin, and I let out a long breath. The tension that had been building inside me all evening eased slightly, but the frustration was still simmering beneath the surface.

Because despite everything, the flirting, the teasing, the stupid mixed signals, Lilia still managed to keep me at arm's length. And I was tired of playing the waiting game.

As I made my way home, heels clicking against the pavement, I couldn't help but feel like I had just walked away from a fight I wasn't even sure I wanted to win anymore.

I made it home, kicking off my heels the second I stepped through the door. The silence of my apartment felt jarring after the noise and chaos of the event, but it was exactly what I needed. No prying eyes, no teasing coven, and most importantly, no Lilia.

I sighed, rubbing my temples as I walked into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water and downing it in one go. The adrenaline from earlier was fading, leaving me feeling tired, annoyed, and... a little disappointed.

The evening had started off fun, with the whole “make Lilia jealous” plan in full swing. But somewhere along the way, it had stopped being about teasing her and started feeling like something else. Something heavier.

I wanted her to chase me. I wanted her to want me.

But instead, she just kept pulling back, staying in that frustrating space of almost.

I flopped onto the couch, staring up at the ceiling, letting my thoughts spiral.

Maybe she really doesn’t feel the same way.

Maybe the age gap is too much for her.

Maybe I’m just a fun distraction to her.

I groaned, tossing a pillow over my face. “Ugh, stupid.”

Just as I was debating whether to text Agatha and unload my feelings, my phone buzzed against my thigh.

I grabbed it, half expecting it to be one of my friends checking in, but my breath caught when I saw the name on the screen.

Lilia.

I stared at it for a beat, my thumb hovering over the screen.

Was she going to scold me for leaving early? Check on me? Or just... toy with me some more?

Taking a deep breath, I swiped to answer. “Hello?”

There was a pause, then Lilia’s voice, soft and measured. “You left.”

I blinked, sitting up straighter. “Yeah, I did. I wasn’t feeling it anymore.”

Another pause. “I see.”

I rolled my eyes. “Did you call just to state the obvious, Lilia?”

She hummed, and I could practically hear the smirk in her voice. “Maybe.”

I rubbed my forehead. “Lilia.”

She sighed, and for a moment, I thought she might actually say something real. But then—

“I wanted to make sure you got home safely.”

My heart did that stupid little flutter thing, but I pushed it down, forcing a casual tone. “I’m fine. I always am.”

There was silence on the other end, and for a second, I thought maybe she’d hung up. But then—

“I shouldn’t have encouraged you to go,” she admitted quietly.

I swallowed, surprised by the sudden shift in her tone. “Why did you?”

She didn’t answer right away, and when she did, it was softer than I expected. “Because I wanted to see what you’d do.”

I clenched my jaw, feeling frustration bubble up again. “And? Did you enjoy the show?”

Lilia exhaled, something close to a chuckle, but there was an edge to it. “More than I should have.”

My grip tightened on the phone. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

Another pause. “So I’ve been told.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Go to bed, Lilia.”

“You too, baby,” she murmured, and before I could come up with a snarky response, the call ended.

My heart pounding, frustration and something else, something deeper, swirling in my chest.

I stared at my phone for all of ten seconds before I muttered, "No, fuck this." Without thinking any further, I tapped Lilia’s number and called her back.

She answered almost immediately, her voice a little softer, maybe a little surprised. “y/n?”

“You’re confusing,” I blurted out, pacing back and forth in my living room, frustration bubbling over. “You are so confusing, Lilia.”

Silence.

I didn’t care, I was on a roll now. “You flirt with me, you pull away, you get all soft and caring, and then you act like none of it happened. And I keep trying to play it cool, keep waiting for you to make up your damn mind, but you never do.”

She didn’t say a word, and I wasn’t stopping.

“And fuck you and this whole age gap excuse, because that’s what it is now, Lilia. It’s an excuse. You keep telling yourself that’s the problem, but it’s not. You flirt with me, you want me, and then you shut me out like it never happened. I’m tired, Lilia. I’m so tired.”

I paused, breathing hard, and then it hit me. My eyes widened as I blurted, “And you never even gave me my underwear back!”

I was hysterical. 

I could hear Lilia inhale sharply on the other end, and for a second, I thought she might say something, anything. But all I got was silence.

And that silence was worse than if she’d yelled at me.

I swallowed hard, my anger deflating into something... heavier. More raw. My voice softened, and I rubbed a hand over my face. “I’m sorry,” I muttered, feeling the weight of it settle in my chest. “I shouldn’t be yelling at you.”

Still, she said nothing, and it was starting to hurt more than I thought it could.

I took a shaky breath. “I’m done, Lilia. I can’t take any more.” My throat tightened, and I blinked back the sting in my eyes. “It hurts too much.”

For a long moment, there was only the sound of my breathing and the faint static of the line. Then, finally, Lilia’s voice came through, so quiet I almost didn’t hear it.

“Y/n...”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “Don’t.”

Another pause. Then she sighed, long and slow, like she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. “I never meant to hurt you.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, well... you did.”

Silence again, and I could almost imagine her, standing in her shop, looking down at the floor with that troubled frown she always wore when she was thinking too hard.

After another beat, she said, “I—” but she cut herself off, like she couldn’t finish the sentence.

I shook my head, wiping at my eyes. “Lilia, I can’t do this anymore. Not unless you actually want me. Not unless you’re willing to admit it.”

There was a pause. Then, finally, so quietly it nearly shattered me, she said, “I do.”

I froze, my heart slamming in my chest. “What?”

“I do,” Lilia repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just... I didn’t know how to.”

I swallowed hard, my chest tightening. “Then why are you pushing me away?”

There was a long silence before she finally admitted, “Because I’m scared.”

I felt something shift inside me, my anger melting into something softer. “Scared of what?”

Lilia sighed again, and this time, she sounded... tired. Vulnerable. “Of how much I want you.”

My lips parted, my throat suddenly dry. “Then stop running,” I said softly. “Please, Lilia. Just... stop.”

She was quiet for another long moment, and then— “Come over.”

My breath hitched. “What?”

“Come over,” she said again, a little stronger this time. “Now.”

I hesitated, my heart pounding. “Lilia, are you sure—”

“Yes,” she interrupted. “Please.”

And just like that, I didn’t even hesitate. I grabbed my coat, shoved my feet into my shoes, and bolted out the door, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. The night air was cool against my skin, but I barely registered it, I was too focused on getting to Lilia.

The drive to her shop felt endless, every red light an eternity, every turn slower than I wanted. My fingers tapped anxiously against the wheel, my thoughts racing.

She admitted it.

She finally admitted it.

But what did that mean? What was waiting for me when I got there?

By the time I pulled up outside her shop, I was a mess of nerves, my stomach churning with anticipation and something I couldn’t quite name. I parked and sat there for a moment, gripping the steering wheel, trying to collect myself.

Come over, she’d said. Not “we need to talk,” not “I need to explain.” Just... come over.

I swallowed, took a deep breath, and stepped out of the car. The street was quiet this time of night, the shop windows dark except for the faint glow of a single light inside.

I knocked, and almost immediately, the door creaked open.

Lilia stood there, looking... different. Her usual confidence wasn’t as sharp around the edges tonight. Her hair was loose, curling naturally around her face, and she had changed into casual wear, soft sweater and leggings, barefoot.

Her dark eyes searched mine, and for a moment, neither of us said anything.

I exhaled shakily. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she replied softly, stepping aside to let me in.

The familiar scent of her shop, incense, old books, and something distinctly her washed over me as I walked inside. She closed the door behind me, and the quiet settled around us like a heavy weight.

I turned to face her, my heart still racing. “I meant what I said, Lilia. I can’t do this anymore if you don’t—”

“I know,” she interrupted, her voice thick with something I couldn’t quite place. “I know, baby.”

The sound of her calling me that made my knees weak.

I swallowed. “Then why—”

Lilia took a slow step forward, her eyes locked onto mine. “Because I’ve spent a long time being careful, y/n. Too careful.”

I didn’t move, didn’t speak. I just let her talk.

“I told myself I couldn’t do this,” she continued, her voice quiet but sure. “That you deserved someone... younger. Someone with fewer complications. Someone who wouldn’t keep you waiting.”

I blinked, my throat tightening. “Lilia...”

She stepped closer, and this time, she reached out, brushing her fingers lightly over my wrist. “But you’re right. The age gap, the excuses... they’re just that. Excuses.”

I felt something break inside me, my breath hitching. “Then stop making them.”

Lilia looked at me, really looked at me, and I could see the struggle in her eyes, the hesitation, the longing, the fear. But then, with a slow, deliberate movement, she cupped my face in her hands, her thumb grazing lightly over my cheek.

“I’m done,” she whispered. “No more excuses.”

I barely had time to react before she kissed me.

Soft at first, hesitant, but then I melted into it, my hands gripping her waist as I kissed her back with everything I’d been holding in for weeks, months.

Lilia pressed closer, her body warm against mine, and I felt her exhale shakily into my mouth, like she was finally letting go of all the barriers she’d built between us. Like she wanted this just as badly as I did.

I pulled back just enough to catch my breath, my forehead resting against hers. “Took you long enough,” I whispered, my lips curling into a smile.

Lilia chuckled, her fingers still ghosting over my jaw, thumb tracing my lower lip. “I know, baby. I know.”

And for the first time in weeks, I felt like I could finally breathe.

But Lilia barely gives me a second to recover before she’s grabbing my hand and pulling me through the shop, her grip firm, her steps hurried, almost reckless. I can barely keep up, my heart racing, my body already aching for her before we even make it to her bedroom.

And then I’m there, being pushed back onto the bed, the mattress bouncing beneath me as I look up at her, chest rising and falling rapidly.

She’s standing over me, eyes dark and burning with something dangerous, something I’ve been craving for so long. 

I moan, unabashedly, because fuck, she’s so hot.  The way she looks at me like she’s about to devour me whole, like she’s going to ruin me, like I’m something she’s been starving for.

And then she starts stripping, slowly, painfully slow, slowly, deliberately, eyes locked onto mine the entire time. Teasing me with every inch of skin she reveals. She peels her sweater over her head, her curls tumbling loose, and I watch, breathless, as she undoes the clasp of her bra with deliberate precision, letting it fall to the floor, her smirk growing the longer I stare. Her hands move lower, hooking into the waistband of her leggings, sliding them down her hips with an agonising pace. She steps out of them with ease. My pulse pounds in my ears as she takes her time, dragging it out, knowing exactly what she’s doing to me, letting the last of her clothes slip from her body until she’s completely bare, standing before me in nothing but those dark eyes and the wicked smirk playing on her lips, and I’m left staring, aching.  

I can’t take it.

I stand up, lurch forward, hands reaching for her, closing the space between us, my hands immediately on her body, kissing every inch of skin I can reach her collarbone, her shoulders, the curve of her neck. My hands roam over her bare back, pressing her closer, needing to feel her. My teeth scrape over the pulse hammering at her throat, and I hear her breath hitch.

Lilia moans, her fingers tangling in my hair, tugging me even closer, and I can feel the heat radiating off her. I trail kisses down, across her chest, down her stomach, dragging my nails lightly, down her ribs just to make her gasp, desperate to taste her, to make up for all the time we’ve wasted.

I want her. I want to wreck her, hear her fall apart beneath me.

But Lilia has other plans.

With a low growl, she shoves me back onto the bed, straddling me before I can even react. Her body pins mine against the mattress, a delicious weight that has me gasping. She tugs my dress up, her hands rough and impatient as she drags it over my head and tosses it aside. A shiver runs through me as her fingers hook into the waistband of my panties, and without thinking, my hips lift to help her slip them off.

And then she does the same to me. Lilia’s lips are everywhere, hot, demanding, claiming me in a way that’s anything but soft. It’s hard, it’s raw, it’s pent up tension that’s been building for weeks, and it’s so damn good, and I can feel it in every press of her teeth, every bite of her nails against my thighs.

She kisses me like she’s making up for lost time, her hands gripping my hips tightly, grinding down against me, slow and deliberate, teasing me with the friction, with enough force to leave bruises in the morning. My nails rake down her back, desperate, needy, and she loves it, moaning into my mouth as she deepens the kiss.

We don’t stop.

There’s no hesitation, no second guessing, just heat and need and the overwhelming feeling of finally having what we both wanted.

I gasp as Lilia's hands roam lower, her touch possessive, her mouth following her hands, unrelenting, claiming every inch of me. She grips my thighs, spreading me open, pressing teasing kisses along my inner thigh, slow, deliberate, making me squirm.

She pauses just above where I need her, her breath warm against me, teasing, torturous. And when she finally looks up at me, her lips just barely brushing my skin, her eyes are dark, lips slick, pupils blown wide with hunger. She smirks.

“Took me long enough, huh?” she murmurs against my skin.

I can’t even answer, just nod breathlessly.

Lilia’s mouth is on me before I can even process it, her hands pressing my thighs apart with a hunger that makes my head spin. She doesn’t tease. She doesn’t drag it out. She takes. 

She devours me like she’s starving, like she’s been holding back for too long and refuses to do it a second longer. Her tongue moves with precision, slow at first, savoring, before she licks deeper, pressing her mouth against me with a hunger that has my head spinning. She flicks her tongue, dragging it over me just right, and I sob, my body jerking beneath her. 

Her fingers slide through slick heat, teasing, testing, until—

I gasp, my back arching off the bed as she pushes in, stretching me, filling me in a way that has me gasping for air.

She’s ruthless, curling her fingers just right, stroking deep, pushing, pulling, setting a pace that leaves no room for mercy.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve been doing to me, baby?” she moans against me, the vibrations sending a shiver up my spine. Her fingers don’t slow, thrusting into me hard, fast, each stroke deliberate and punishing. “The things I’ve thought about... every time you walked into the shop in those little skirts, every time you teased me?”

I whimper, my hands clutching the sheets, head thrown back in pure bliss.

She bites the inside of my thigh, and I cry out. “Those panties you left behind,” she breathes, her voice thick with lust, “I couldn’t stop thinking about them. About you. About what it’d feel like to have you.”

A desperate moan rips from my throat, my body trembling under her touch. “Lilia... please.” My hips lifting, chasing her, needing more. She hums, low and indulgent, before finally sliding another finger inside me, stretching me open, pushing deeper, pressing her palm against me just enough to make me whine. My hands clutch at the sheets, my body burning, every nerve ending sparking.

“I should’ve done this sooner,” her tongue circling me in slow, teasing strokes, drawing me apart piece by piece. “Had you like this ages ago. Been wanting to hear these sounds from you for weeks”

Her fingers press against that perfect spot inside me, and I choke out a sob.

She licks deeper, pressing her tongue flat against me before sucking lightly, and I jerk, crying out.

“Want to hear you cum for me,” Lilia purrs, her voice dark and commanding,  before she sucks harder, her fingers thrusting into me faster, curling deep, coaxing me higher. “Come on, baby. Let me hear it.”

And I do.

The pleasure crashes through me like a tidal wave, my body shaking, moaning her name over and over as I fall apart beneath her touch. Lilia doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up until I’m completely wrecked, panting, and twitching from the aftershocks.

She finally pulls back, pressing a final, lingering kiss against me, her breath warm and heavy.

“Good girl,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to my stomach, her voice full of praise that makes me shiver all over again. “You did so well for me.”

I can barely respond, my limbs boneless, my mind hazy. But I know one thing for sure, I want more.

It takes me a moment to come back down, my body still trembling, my breaths ragged and uneven. Lilia watches me with dark, satisfied eyes, her smirk smug and dripping with confidence. Her fingers still teasing lazy circles on my thigh like she’s enjoying the way I twitch under her touch.

But I’m not done with her, not by a long shot.

Before she can even process it, I flip us over, pressing her into the mattress with a wicked grin. Her eyes widen, but there’s no surprise, just anticipation, hunger.

“Fuck.” The word comes out in a breath, barely a sound, but enough for her to hear.

She hums, amused, her nails skimming over my arms as if daring me to continue.

My fingers trail lower, slipping between her thighs, and I pause, my breath catching as I feel how absolutely soaked she is. The realisation sends a shiver through me, and I can’t help the smirk that tugs at my lips.

I pull back slightly, looking at her properly now, taking in the way her lips are parted, her pupils blown wide, her body already straining toward me.

“Oh,” I breathe, teasing my fingers against her, dragging them slowly to feel every bit of her need. “You don’t need any help, do you?”

Lilia’s breath hitches, her hips twitching beneath my touch, but she doesn’t answer, just watches me with dark, half-lidded eyes, her lips parted in anticipation. Fixes me with a look that makes my stomach flip.

It’s daring. A challenge. Like she’s waiting to see what I’ll do next.

“Fuck,” I say again, letting out another slow breath, pressing a little firmer, feeling how she responds so easily. “You really have been waiting for this,” I murmur, my voice dark, satisfied. “Haven’t you?”

She parts her lips to respond, but I don’t give her the chance.

I sink my fingers into her, slow at first, teasing, stretching her open, feeling the way her body clenches around me. 

And then I push in deeper, hard, and she gasps, her back arching, her fingers digging into my shoulders..

I don’t go slow. I don’t tease. I take her hard and rough, my fingers moving with purpose, curling inside her in a way that has her moaning instantly.

Lilia’s hands grasp at my shoulders, her nails scratching, dragging down my back, and I lower my mouth to her breasts, sucking one of her nipples between my lips. I swirl my tongue around it, biting down just enough to make her cry out, and it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.

“Fuck, y/n,” she moans, her hips bucking up against my hand, her thighs trembling around me.

I smirk against her skin, flicking my tongue over the hardened peak before moving to the other, lavishing it with the same rough attention while my fingers pump into her relentlessly.

She’s so wet, so tight around my fingers, and it doesn’t take much before I feel her start to tighten around me, her walls fluttering, her breath coming out in broken gasps.

“So, you’ve been thinking about this for a while, huh?” I murmur against her chest, my voice dripping with satisfaction. “Thinking about how I’d feel inside you?”

She groans, her back arching as she gasps, “Yes... yes... fuck.”

I grin wickedly, increasing the pace, curling my fingers just right until she’s on the edge, her breath coming in short, desperate pants. “Come on, Lilia,” I whisper against her skin, sucking hard on her nipple as I thrust into her with delicious precision. 

“Let me hear you.”

And she does.

Lilia spasms around me, her moan breaking apart into something raw and desperate, her entire body trembling beneath me as she comes undone, gasping my name like it’s the only thing she knows.

I watch her fall apart, mesmerised, drinking in every twitch, every gasp, every sharp intake of breath, and it’s the most intoxicating thing I’ve ever seen. 

My fingers slow, riding out her high as I press soft kisses along her collarbone.

Her breathing is ragged, a deep flush crawling up her chest, sweat slicking her skin, and she lets out a soft, breathy laugh, pulling me against her, her fingers tangling in my hair. “I should hate how smug you look right now,” she murmurs, voice thick and shaky.

I smirk, kissing along her jaw. “You love it.”

She hums, her lips ghosting over my temple as her breath steadies, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on my back. 

After the intensity of it all, after the heat, the moans, and the desperate need finally sated, we collapse into the sheets, bodies still humming with the aftershocks.

Lilia sighs softly against my hair,  her arm draped lazily over my waist, her chest rising and falling steadily beneath me, and I feel her hand lazily tracing circles on my back. 

I shift slightly, my leg sliding between hers, my fingers still ghosting over her skin, unable to stop touching her even in the aftermath.

Her skin is warm, still damp from sweat, her breathing slow and steady.

“Comfortable?” she murmurs, voice low and raspy, and I can hear the lingering amusement in it.

I nuzzle against her neck, pressing a lazy kiss to her collarbone. “Very.” My voice is heavy with sleep, and I can feel the exhaustion creeping in, but I don’t want to move. “You?”

She hums, her lips pressing against my temple in a slow, lingering kiss. “Mm. I could get used to this.”

My heart stutters at that, but I don’t say anything, just smile against her skin, letting myself bask in the warmth of her.

Minutes pass, maybe hours, time feels irrelevant when I’m wrapped around her like this. Lilia strokes her fingers through my hair absentmindedly, and I can feel her breathing slowing, the tension that always seems to cling to her finally easing away.

I sigh, letting my eyes flutter shut, my body melting against hers. “Don’t retreat in the morning,” I mumble sleepily, barely coherent, but needing to say it.

She chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through me. “I won’t, baby.”

And that’s enough for me. With her promise lingering in the air between us, I drift off, feeling safe, sated, and completely tangled in her. Tangled in her warmth, in her scent, in the quiet hum of her presence.

[threebea]

Tiny Obi-Wan and Yoda just sat down somewhere having extremely Old Man conversations.

Mace: ....

Obi-Wan: you cannot imagine the things I can eat. No problem. No stomach upset. The fact Dex hasn't opened his diner yet is a travisty.

Yoda: Decades in exile subsisting on frogs I have been.

Obi-Wan: Yes, but those are good for you.

Yoda: Desire cake I do. One hundred years too late for it we are. Rubbing it in you are.

Obi-Wan: Well there must be some silver linings. The knees are nice too, but I can't reach anything.

Yoda: hmph, perspective you have gained perhaps?

Obi-Wan: not at this height.

Yoda: (laughs and gives him gentle whack with his cane) lost your cheek you have not, Master Kenobi

⭐

Obi-Wan: (notices Mace) oh, Master, please join us.

Mace: ... (Sits down)

Obi-Wan: (Sighs like an old man) I must say I'm glad not to be on the council at the moment. Have you read my proposal on Hutt investments portfolios? I know you're busy with Xanatos' nonsense, but if we move soon we could prevent Jabba from gaining ground in thirty years.

Mace: you should be learning how to mix colours with paint, not sending me paperwork in the middle of the night, Master Kenobi.

Obi-Wan: (gestures to neat paint pallet with colours mixed) I already know how to do that.

Yoda: doubt that I do. Knowing is not understanding.

Obi-Wan: that doesn't even mean anything. You can't tease me just because I'm small now.

Yoda: size matters not. Tease you I always will.

Obi-Wan: well that's true (eye roll)

Mace: I have enough paperwork Kenobi. Stop sending me paperwork.

Obi-Wan: well I would send it to another Master, but you're the only one that knows of my predicament and you won't let me use your name, and Master Yoda has always been awful with written proposals, no one would believe it.

Yoda (has brought out the paints Obi-Wan had with him and has started mixing colours)

Mace: Master you can't just mix paint on the tile!

Yoda: fear the mess it will make, hmm?

Obi-Wan: you're impossible. (Starts doing it as well) I never enjoyed making a mess, even at this age.

Yoda: fear of the future that is.

Obi-Wan: here he goes.

Yoda: to live in the moment, without fear of the mess of the future, that is the way of a Jedi.

Mace: (watches the two of them paint pictures on the ground. It's a complete mess)

Obi-Wan: I don't fear the future.

Yoda: hah!

Obi-Wan: I'm stressed! Stressed isn't the same thing as fear.

Yoda: come from fear stress does. Anxiety. Make a cloud you should.

Obi-Wan: (examines his tile of art work, adds a cloud)

Yoda: stress Master Mace has trouble with too. (Pointedly looking at Mace who is just watching the mess unfold)

Mace: (sighs, takes the hint, sits on the floor and dips his finger in the purple Obi-Wan mixed) I have many things to do.

Yoda: but right now you are painting.

Mace: I can't tell if you're both being serious or messing with me.

Obi-Wan: it can be both, Master. (Makes a face) I'm going to have blue hands for a week.

Mace: have you always been anxious, Master Kenobi? You always seem very confident and composed. It was eerie when we first met, seeing a child so poised.

Obi-Wan: yes, well I don't want anyone to know I'm anxious. Too many people rely on me.

Yoda: like someone else that is.

Mace: well... Right now you're at an age you don't need to be so independent.

Obi-Wan: I'm older than you are, Master. My crude matter doesn't reflect who I am inside. I can't just turn off my worries. It was easier in the end. In the desert... But it's hard to grasp now. I found my balance and peace, but in the here and now I find myself at odds with my knowledge. Every stray thought and memory of something that could be changed for the better.

Mace: changing the future is dangerous.

Obi-Wan: not changing it is more dangerous.

Mace: if you become obsessed you risk losing yourself. You need an anchor.

Obi-Wan: I know. (Focuses back on his painting) The future is always in motion. I am not changing anything. I am simply existing in the now. The ripples for good or ill can rarely be controlled or focused. However is it not my duty to follow where the Force has led me and do good?

Mace: ... (I feel very young suddenly)

Yoda: talk too much you do, Master Kenobi.

Obi-Wan: well it's been awhile since anyone has been kind enough to listen, Master Yoda. Force knows you don't have the attention for it.

Yoda: accuse me of senility do you? Focused I am on the present (gestures at his paint mess). Rambling on the old days you are.

Obi-Wan: who is the more senile? The old man or the old man that tries to talk to him?

Mace: (looking at the five year old who just said that. He has a splotch of blue paint on his cheek) no more proposals in the middle of the night, Kenobi. You'll get an ulcer at six.

Obi-Wan: (prim and proper) and when exactly did you get your first stress ulcer Master Windu?

Yoda: (laughs) twenty-two he was.

Mace: just paint.

Terrible Fic Ideas #3: Re-Entry, but make it Obi-Wan and Yoda

If you've not noticed by now, I'm the biggest sucker for Time Travel Fix-Its that ever existed, and one of my absolute favorites is the Re-Entry series by the ever-wonderful flamethrower. In that series, post-RotJ Obi-Wan and Anakin are sent back to 4 years before TPM to save the Republic, and it's an absolutely wonderful ride. But one thing I've always wanted is Yoda to be thrown back in time in one of these fix-its.

Imagine it:

Yoda is the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order. He has the ability to make lasting changes to the order in a way that young Padawan or newly knighted Obi-Wan alone couldn't. He's also had ~25 years alone in a swamp without even the passing human contact Obi-Wan got on Tatooine to reflect on all the things that went wrong, and stuck around as a Force Ghost at least until TLJ.

Not that I imagine TLJ happening in this AU - to kick it off I imagine Luke not managing to make it off the second Death Star after Anakin dies, and Anakin and Leia's anguish in the Force managing to hurl the watching Force ghosts into the pasts, where they can keep Luke's death from ever happening.

And so you have Yoda and Obi-Wan being thrown back to, say, 52 BBY. Obi-Wan, now only five years old, wakes his crechemate's up with a "vision", and for decades afterwards the younglings swear that on certain nights you can year an echo of absolute and complete anguish in the Force.

But the end result is the same: 5 year old Obi-Want has his memories of the next 52 years alive and 4 additional years of being a Force ghost. The transition is somewhat less abrupt for Yoda, who is 800+ at this time.

Unlike Re-Entry, the only one Yoda and Obi-Wan tell (at least at first) that they've traveled through time is Mace - and only then because Obi-Wan is very obviously not a normal 5 year old anymore. (And even then it's more of an accident Mace finds out. Instead Yoda just sort of pushes Mace at Obi-Wan "to help him get a handle on his visions and train him in the ways of the Force", and in the end Mace finally puts two and two together after sort of assuming he's just going crazy or being punked.)

Actually, confused!babysitter Mace is half the drive for this plot bunny. He's so confused and Yoda is being even more of a troll than usual, and he's not prepared at all to deal with such a small child, but honestly half the time it feels like Obi-Wan is the one taking care of him, and just so much confusion.

Together, between Yoda being the Grandmaster and Obi-Wan's weaponized cuteness as a youngling, they are able to prevent some things that contribute to the fall of the Republic. (Galidraan et al).

Obi-Wan is taken as Mace's Padawan fairly young, and no one really considers it too be too odd how good he is so young given that Mace was his Master and Yoda's been his mentor since the creche, but he's definitely considered to be an odd child. As one might expect of a ~60 year old being suddenly stuffed into his 5 year old body. When it eventually comes out that he's a time traveler, it answers a lot things people didn't realize they were questioning.

But mostly confused!babysitter Mace, troll!Yoda, and baby!Obi-Wan.

As always, feel free to adopt the bunny. Just link if you end up doing anything with it.

More Terrible Fic Ideas

[druidwolf21]

Part of first impression

JUST ADDING

This is not proofread, Tumblr uploaded it before it was finished so I had a mad panic to try to get this out!

Lion El'Johnson x f! Reader

Thank you all so much for your unlimited patience! Finally the next part to first impressions!

Honestly I have so many drafts for this, I want through like 4 primarch's lol

As always, 2 endings one fluffy one angsty and a separate smut waaaaaayy below

ANYWAY ENJOY

CW:smut with a warning, swearing. Q

Just lion El'Johnson being a grump

Tags: @beckyninja @lemon-russ @moodymisty @thisuserislilsilly @jaghatai-khock @echo-of-damnation @laura-naruto-fan1998 @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @astrohymn @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

Let me know if you wanna be tagged or removed, I'm just going off my old tags lol!

K THANKS ENJOY

Twisting the soft snowy satin of your dress between your fingers, you edged your way through the crowd towards the burnished doors. Slipping through the huddles of gossiping bodies, you managed to reach the exit with suspicious ease. A giddy smile crept along your face as you reached out, The silvered handle feels cool under your touch as you grip and pull.

And then pull again

Crap

The locked rattled in its setting with each tug, refusing to give any leeway.

"bloody typical" you mutter, spinning on your heels and scouring the room again. "When is it ever that easy"

Your eyes fell to a small door. Carved out to blend in with the wall, it would be unnoticeable if it weren't for the trickling flow of serfs filtering through, shoulders bowed under the ladened trays they handled. Taking one last look around the gilded hall, you gathered your dress back up and swept towards it. Avoiding the lengthy shadows cast by towering men of war and following the ebb and flow of dancers, you edged ever closer, blending in seamlessly with the crowd. You became just another face before slipping silently through the cracks and easing yourself away from the gathering.

You puffed out a breath you didn't realize you'd been holding and let out a snort as you began running down the thin corridor. Laughter bubbled in your chest as you slipped further away until the raucous chatter was but a muted haze. Finally slowing your pace, you stepped into a small kitchen, your laughter calming to a content smile as you breathed in the scent of warm foods and hot wine. A few serfs smiled and greeted you by name, chuckling as you told them of your botched escape through the main doors.

The serfs quarters had always been a second home to you and, despite your station, they'd always welcomed you with open arms. An elderly woman slapped your hand halfheartedly, scolding you as you snatched hot rolls, tender meats and fruits from a platter, rolling them up in a small cloth as you perched yourself on a counter. Content, you watched them work, joking with them as they passed around you. The black iron counter felt hard beneath you, but the crackling of the fire and idle chatter made you feel warm and content as you settled in.

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"MISS MISS"

a voice carved through the bustle of the kitchen as a young girl tumbled out of another side door. You slid from your perch and caught her as she fell, propping her back upright. She looked up at you, eyes wide as she gasped for breath. "Miss it's th'lord, your brother, he's come lookin' for ya miss"

The kitchen halted, an uncomfortable silence stretched thin, before the elderly woman grasped your hand and pulled you towards her.

"everyone! back to work! And not a *WORD* that the young miss was here" she barked, ushering you towards the fireplace. With weathered fingers she slid her hands along a groove in the wall, earning a soft click as a door opened up.

"that'll take you to the gardens miss, hurry up now, or your brother will be dragging you back" she pressed your bundle of food into your hands. "Go"

You gripped the linen parcel and grinned "thanks I owe you guys"

"remember that the next time you're in trouble and stay out of my hair" she grumbled, "thought you would've grown out of this by now" offering you a tired toothless smile, she chuckled to herself before pushing you through and sealing the cold brick behind you.

Rolling your eyes, you turned and lumbered down yet another corridor.

I swear if I have to go down one more blood tunnel..

You trailed your fingers down the walls, scrunching your nose up at the damp moss that saturated it's surface. The temperature dropping with each step you took and it felt like a decade had passed in the dark echoing chill before fresh, cool air began filtering towards you. Soft silver light hit your skin as you ducked under a crumbling arch and stepped into soft grass, the smell of petrichor and dew hung sweetly in the air.

It was later than you'd thought. The sky was painted dark and splattered with twinkling stars and the faint flash of engine ignition flashed and dissipated into the distance. Dropping your gaze, you trailed your sight over the swathes of blossoming trees that stretched beneath the endless sky. Their boughs swayed gently, shuddering their leaves and tousling petals loose to dance across the breeze and into the night.

Stepping from the tunnel, you wandered towards the dappled shadows of the orchard sprawling before you, moonlight filtering through thick blankets of leaves and blossoms as you slipped amongst the trunks. The air felt calm and quiet around you as you pressed a hand against an aged peach tree, it's twisted bark marking your palms as you leant against it to pull off your heels.

Dropping your shoes into the grass you stretched and turned back towards the glittering lights of the manor. Flickering shadows as people passed the giant glass filtered down towards the grounds, but the music was distant, drowned by the gentle singing of cicadas.

" I am so dead when this is over"

Rolling your arms back, you cracked the joint, attempting to ease some tension from your limbs. 10 minutes of peace had turned into an unplanned daring escape and your brother was NOT going to be happy. But that was a problem for tomorrow, at least for now you had a chance to enjoy some alone ti-

Crack

A sharp noise cracked the silence and you jolt upright as you peered through the dark to find its source. Ears straining for any sound you stepped backwards, twisting your head as you scan around. From the corner of your eye you see it. A shadow. Heart in your throat you grasp your shoe in your fist, the pointed heel raised as you step out from the cover if the tree.

"Whoever you are, I'm warning you, I'm armed"

"Armed? Is that what you call it"

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A yell rips from your throat as you spin, lashing out at the voice. Aim true, your heel swings towards center mass until a hand finds your wrist and twists. With a cry, you drop your improvised weapon. Panic rising in your throat, you pull backwards. The bruising grip on your arm released and you stumble, before quickly finding your feet and hissing through your teeth. Fists raised in defense, you bristled as you faced the intruder.

Eyes widened as you faced a mountain of verdant green. Bone ivory silk lined the edges of rich emerald that rippled like dappled shadows in the forest around you. You cast your gaze higher, regarding the tabard, fabric whispering with each movement, heavy yet fluid as it lay draped over broad shoulders.

A grumble dragged your thoughts back as your eyes met with a silent glare. blonde locks fell about his face and a thick beard framed his strong jaw, but it was his eyes that held your attention. They were almost as vibrant as his garb; Vivid, primal, with an intensity that had every inch of your body pickling with goosebumps.

"watch it, girl" he growled, brows creased as he looked down at you.

Lion El'jonson, the emperor's first, primarch of the dark angels, towering over you with a scowl etched on his face.

You continued to stare, mouth slightly agape as your brain turns over itself.

I just tried to stab a primarch

With my shoe

Blood rushed to your cheeks and your hands flew to your mouth.

"my lord, I am so sorry I didn't realise-"

He cut you off with a large hand,brushing your apology off as he turned away.

"I don't need your apology, just keep your eyes open"

You bristled at his tone.

"excuse me?"

He paused, looking down at you over his shoulder as you clenched your hands into fists.

"I should watch where I'm going? You were out here skulking about, prowling around like something for a horror story, but IM the one who needs to keep my eyes open?"

His pupils narrowed as you pointed a small finger up at him, jabbing the air as you stepped towards him.

"you owe ME an apology for scaring me half to death"

A rumble vibrated through the air, silencing you. Your hand dropped and you huffed, refusing to pail under the growl of the primarch as he slowly turned back.

"well?"

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Lion watched as the woman stared up at him, defiance in her face as she refused to bow under his presence, her small hand jabbing the air, inches from him. Pride and curiosity battled within him as he turned back towards her. Who were you to dare talk back to him? Impudent little thing. Brave little thing.

Curiosity won out and he turned back to face you. A grumbled hammered through his ribs, his third lung pushing air through his chest.

You WILL conceed.

But still you refused to bend.

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"who do you think you are" he snarled, stepping towards you, dwarfing you beneath his shadow. His eyes glowing with moonlight and rage as he glowered at your small form. "First you strike me, then you speak back to me?"

You returned his look with one just as fiery.

"and I'll keep doing it, until you apologize back to me'

The tension stretched to breaking point, neither of you moving as the breeze trickled past you.

Finally you sighed, flicking your hair back behind your shoulder.

"fine, I'll agree to watch where I'm going IF you agree not to freak me out again"

Viridian eyes continued to bore into you, trailing from your face, down your figure before returning upwards, lingering on your lips for a moment.

He snorted and you decided that was probably all the agreement you were going to get.

Bending, you picked up your food parcel from where it had fallen, forgotten in the grass. You lowered yourself down, resting you back against a tree and tapped the soft soil next you.

"join me?"

Lion held fast refusing to move until you huffed again.

"I thought knights of Caliban were supposed to protect the weak?" you tapped the ground again. "Besides, if I didn't see you out here, what hope do I have of spotting anything else?"

Begrudgingly, he finally stepped forward and dropped to your side, grumbling as he stretched a leg out whilst bringing the other to his chest, resting his bulky forearm against his knee.

"you are a menace, woman"

You flashed a fake, shocked look across your face.

"you hardly know me!"

"and even then, I still know you too much"

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Lion blinked as you started to laugh. Not a false laugh like he heard so often from the courts, a genuine laugh, a belly laugh that had you rolling your head back.

By now, he had scared most people off, he knew he was intimidating, knew the effect he had of baselines, but you were just... sat there.

Laughing?

"wow you really know how to make a girl feel special" you gasped. He angled his head slightly, watching as you wiped your eyes and gulped for breath. Throwing a genuine smile at him, he felt a brief palpitation in his chest.

Your chest heaved and tears pricked your eyes, as he trailed his sight down, lingering on the curves of your body beneath the pale dress that clung to you as you stretched your legs out.

"you are very odd" he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers

"you have no idea"

"enlighten me then"

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You didn't know if lion was actually listening, or if he really cared, but he didn't move as you opened up your little bundle and began picking at the food, happily chatting away about the the house, the party and the events that led you to meeting him. He grunted every now and then, barely moving as you continued for what felt like hours.

And soon, he began to open up to you. slowly, at first, offering short replies as you questioned him about Caliban, the dark angels and, eventually, himself.

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Lion coughed back a smile as you stared up at him, eyes wide and glittering with starlight as you listened to his stories. not just battles and victories, Stories of sparring matches whilst he was training, eating with friends, travelling and seeing worlds, each tale had your face shining with delight, entranced. He felt...seen, by you, not at a primarch, or as a knight. As a man.

He found himself losing himself in the melody of your voice as you chirped so sweetly, asking for more.

And when you gently placed your hand on his arm, leaning in to hear his coarse voice, he knew he was gone

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"so what about you?"

"hmm?"

"obviously I know why you're here, but why are you HERE" you gestured around you.

He remained silent, eyes locked on you, stock still not even blinking. You cocked a brow at him, popping a cherry in your mouth.

"I did not like the company"

You nodded slowly.

"I get that, sometimes it's a bit much"

The moon had risen high overhead now, silvering the soft blonde of lions hair until it shone almost white. Chewing the cherry slowly, you brought the little package up, offering it up to him. He shuffled slightly, raising his hand before returning it to his knee.

"not hungry?" You queried, popping another cherry between your lips.

"most baseline foods are not prepared with primarchs in mind" he sighed, twitching his hand.

Pursing your lips, you picked up a strawberry, rolling it between your fingers. "I guess that makes sense, you'd probably squash it"

he grunted in response, watching you as you hummed, still twisting the ripe berry between your index and thumb.

"here"

You clambered to your feet, leaning over his arm as you brought the strawberry towards his lips.

"try it, it's good"

He glanced between the fruit and your face, his face unreadable. Blush started crawling up your neck and across your cheeks as you realised how you stood. your chest pressed to his forearm, leaning against him, your face so close you could see the crowsfeet near his eyes and the tired lines by his mouth.

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You were so close

The faint smell of your soft perfume and the cherry syrup linger on your lips filled his nose. Lion could feel the warmth of your body against his skin and hear how your heart thrummed in your chest, pounding like a jackhammer against your ribs as you leant in close.

Closing his eyes, the strawberry was sweet and ripe on his tongue, the juice swimming in his mouth as he swallowed, his tongue reached forward to like the syrup from his lip, instead finding the soft skin of your fingertip. Both of his hearts jolted and adrenaline flooded him.

He heard your breath hitch, felt you tense at the touch, before a soft sigh left you.

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You hummed as you felt Lions lips meet your skin, a gentle kiss pressed to your finger tip. His eyes fluttered open as you slowly drew your hand back. You blinked up at him, a soft smile gracing you.

"see? It's good right?" You whispered.

Without warning, he lowered his face, glittering eyes catching yours just for a single second before his warmth enveloping you as his lips softly brush against your own. The kiss was surprisingly gentle, almost hesitant at first, as if testing the moment, before it deepened, the softness of the touch contrasting with his mass of twisted muscle and calloused skin. You felt yourself melt, giving into his touch as his leg dropped and his hands reached to your waist, pulling you flush against him. The taste of strawberry was sweet on your tongue as you gave in to him.

Sighing as his lips finally left yours, he took your hand and raised it to his mouth. You chest almost flush with his chest as you perched in his lap.

"my lady, it would please me, to take you to Caliban, to see it for yourself"

Go with lion

Your breath hitched in your throat at his words.

"what?"

You felt a soft rumble in his chest as he continued to hold your hand, pressing it to his lips again before replying, The rough hair on his face prickling your skin.

"I have not had company such as yours for a long time, I would loathe to give it up here, allow me to bring you with me"

Your mouth fell open as you continued to blink up at him, your jaw working furiously to try to coax words into being. Finally you swallowed dryly and nodded.

A frown snuck its way across his features at your silence, slowly releasing your hand, he trailed his palm along your waist, resting at your hip.

"your words, woman"

His tone snapped you out of your reverie and you huffed, gently hitting his firm chest.

"you can't just ask me that, then call me woman, I have a name" leaning forward, you rested your head against his chest, listening to the strong thump of his hearts through the soft sea of green silk.

"but yes."

"yes?"

"yes I will go with you, IF you promise to stop calling me woman"

A large hand grasped your shoulder and pulled you back, the other finding your chin and bringing your head up. He searched your face looking for any doubt, his pupils thin as he scoured you, peeling you back later by layer. After a moment, he nodded, relaxing as he pulled you back to his chest.

Looking back at the manor, you see the last of the light flicker and die through the windows as the first peppering of dawn filters through the black expanse of the sky. You felt Fingers tangle in your hair finding your aquilla pin, deftly tugging it out and throwing it to the side.

Lion would find something more appropriate, now that you were his

"I can do that."

Refuse Lion

"you want- to take me to Caliban?"

He nodded, the firm grip on your waist squeezing slightly as he slowly dropped your hand.

"you spent the entire night out here, just to avoid that scene" he tilted his chin towards the now quieted manor, the lights fading to a muted flicker, before expiring, leaving the building cold and quiet in the early morning light.

"you wouldn't need to hide, if you came with me"

Pushing off his chest you clambered off his lap, instantly missing the heat he radiated. You stepped into the chilled grass and wrung your hands before dragging them through your hair, ripping the golden pendant from your locks. You stare at the pin, the creeping red hues of the sky glinting from its wings.

"I can't"

"what?"

You refuse to turn as you hear the primarch rise to his feet, instead glaring down at the elongated shadow he casts over you.

"what do you mean you can't"

Annoyance prickles his voice now as he steps closer to you. Finally turning you smile up at him sadly. Reaching for his hand, you place the eagle in his palm.

"I'm sorry"

You brush past him, breaking into a sprint as you head back towards the tunnel you came from, tears flowing freely down your face. He doesn't call for you, did not chase you and when you finally turned around, he was gone.

"I'm sorry, Lion"

Smut warning below

Alternate ending to going with Lion

"To Caliban?"

He responded with a low hum, allowing his lips to trail up your arm.

"Caliban, Terra, anywhere"

His lips found your throat, peppering your skin with soft kisses, his fingers found the soft plush of your hips, as he nuzzled into you, breathing in your scent.

You tilted your chin, encouraging him on as you threw your arms around his neck.

"say yes" he huffed, nipping and sucking at your pulse point, pulling a soft pink bruise across your skin. "Say you'll come with me"

"y-yes"

"good girl" he captured your lips in another kiss, heated and hungry, the tenderness gone as he devoured the taste of you. His tongue slipped between your lips and you groaned, grinding yourself down into his groin, smirking as his grip on your hips tightened and a growl ruptured from him.

Pulling away, he tore into the knot around your neck, working the bow loose and tugging the fabric over your head, leaving your body exposed to the chill air. Tossing it aside, his mouth found your breast. rolling the nipple on his tongue, he nipped and sucked. His beard coarse against your skin. Your back arched, pressing yourself further into him as your own hands found his hair, rough between your fingers, you tugged and toyed as he left his mark on your flesh.

You jerked as his calloused thumb found your clit and you felt him smirk against your skin. His free hand found your hair and pulled your head back slightly, holding you in place as he stroked circles on your sensitive nub. His tongue traced a line between your breasts and up your throat , pausing at your jaw.

"where has that attitude gone, my lady?"

You try to respond, only a fractured cry leaving you mouth as the knot in your gut tightens and cracks, ripping through in waves of pleasure as you cum. You twitch as his thumb keeps flicking over you, overstimulated, you whine and squirm beneath his touch.

Through blurry eyes, you see his hand move to his trousers, pulling them down enough to free himself. He slowly pulls you forward, his member trailing up and down your slit, teasing, coating him before he slowly slides in.

You cry out at the stretch, inch by inch filling you in a way you couldn't imagine. Lion kissed tears from your eyes as he slowly slid in, words of praise whispered from his lip you never dreamed would come from him, alongside words that made you cunt clench around him.

"good girl"

"you like fucking your lord in the woods?"

"wanted this the whole time? To please your primarch"

"so perfect"

His hips thrust upwards, the tip of his dick pressing into the sweet spot in your center as your mind turned to mush. His hands were on you, grounding your hips as he rutted into you, your own hand bunched into his tabard, clinging to him as you bounced against him.

"l-lion, m'gonna"

He snarled as he fucked into you, his eyes feral and glinting in the light as his bit into your shoulder.

You threw your head back, crying out in pain and pleasure as you came, feeling him twitch inside you as he finished, his teeth marring your tender muscle. His chest heaved beneath you as you collapsed forward, gasping. You could hear the below of his lungs as he sucked in oxygen, coming down from his own high. Thick fingers found your spine, dancing up towards your neck before a soft kiss was placed against your head.

"I'm glad you're coming"

You looked up at him, a cheeky smirk dancing across your mouth and he rolled his eyes, his own smile partially hidden beneath his beard.

"Stop it"

"I didn't say anything, lion!"

"you didn't have to"

You returned your head to his chest, still grinning as you heart finally slowed down.

I could get used to this