#i'd love to open my asks to talk with you all but i might be stupid to do in this climate

[snexy-the-snail]

You think you can write a short of Apollo nomming on Percy sometime after the biting incident? I’d really like to see that they’re on good terms and Percy deserves as many comfort spaces as he can get

Love the au you’ve built up, I might take some inspiration for my own writing. Thank you so much!🤗

OO please do take inspiration!! I am living on pure spite atm and would live to revive PJO vore!!! and Of course-)) 

It had been weeks after the biting incident, and even more since A schedule of being eaten or sat with had been put in place. As much as it was embarrassing the sleep was too good to be truly upset. It was still gross, and half the time he felt like kicking Hermes teeth when he made a weird joke or teased him, but things weren't horrible.  

Percy grimaces and stretches, trying to soothe the aches that came with practicing with the newcomers. Some of those wooden swords hurt, and the metal ones even more, thank you. He sighs glancing towards the beach wondering if that would take some of the odd aches away, it usually did, sometimes. Water healing got weird when it came to bodies, sicknesses and colds? Nothing. Cuts? Perfect, which seemed mildly unfair. He groans and leans again on a tree closing his eyes to soak up the warmth of the day. Maybe he should just go kill some monster, blow off some steam and get the adrenaline pumping.  

Perfect day for it after all, it was bright, sunny, and-  

He narrows his eyes cautiously glancing around the wood.  

"I know you're there." He calls out, scowling when nothing happens. So, he brought out Riptide. It had to be Apollo; the warmth was undeniable. He could've stabbed a tree in frustration when he didn't get a response.  

"What do you want to hear that I won't bite you again?" He snaps eyeing the trees like Apollo would morph out of one. That apparently was the issue considering the God appeared, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Serious? You were afraid I'd bite?" he asks with a scowl. Then again Triton had fully held him away like someone would with a naughty cat. Or a lizard- well Annabeth and a lizard at least.  

"Not afraid! Just- well biting usually means big ole' seaweed beard shows up and last time he was not happy about the whole, trying to get you to take a nap thing."  

Percy scoffs and caps his sword, pocketing it. "Well, you deserved it, I said no." He points out crossing his arms. At least Apollo had the decency to look somewhat ashamed.  

"I thought you were...ya know cranky?" The god says with a shrug, Percy very much scowling at the comment. Maybe he had been, but the fact Apollo was calling him out to that wasn't thrilling. "Or at least, Hermes says you're all squirmy and rude at first, so I thought it was just part of the process." Apollo continues not looking Percy in the eye.  

Of course. Percy let an exhausted sigh out a hand running through his hair. 12-year-old him would've flipped if this is what the future looked like. "I've seen you like, 5 times, and we don't have that whole directly related thing going on." He starts off. Sure, he had seen his dad about the same, but the sea god was *his* dad. Apollo might be his cousin or something, but he didn't *know* him like he did Hermes.  

"I've seen Hermes more than my own dad, talked with him too, so he's familiar I guess...I just... You're not."  

That didn't sound too brutal, did it? Oh. Apollo's gaze was hard, serious. It was weird considering he had only seen the god acting goofy half the time. He looked...godly almost. The silence was awkward, and Percy hated it, about to open his mouth to fill the silence but Apollo beat him to it.  

"I'd never hurt you. You know that right?"  

"What?"  

"I said I'd never hurt you. You're the reason half my kids are alive. They pray to me about you, about what you've done for them." Apollo continues with a bittersweet smile on his face. "And it kills me that you're not taking care of yourself. Hero of Olympus, title bearers of heroes of old, it doesn't matter. You're still just a kid under that."  

Percy swallows thickly not moving an inch as the god approached him, much like a stray horse, a warm hand settling on his shoulder. It was a different warmth than his dad's or Triton's. It was pure soul bringing warmth opposed to the gentle cooling his sea families brought.  

"Just a kid huh?" He laughs bitterly, closing his eyes, soaking in the soothing warmth. It washed over his soreness much like the waves did. The air feeling crisp in his lungs as he drew a breath. "Where was that thinking when I was 12."  

The silence that settled over them wasn't comfortable, though Apollo had a sorrowful expression on his face. "Gods don't change, not truly. But you, Percy Jackson, have certainly demanded we try."  

It was an honesty he swore he couldn't get from his father half the time...then again truth fell within Apollos domain. He wasn't sure why the sudden honesty, well partly. He crosses his arms and steps away from the warm weight on his shoulder. "Someone's gotta try for a better future." He grumbles.  

And it was getting better. From what he heard God spent more time with their kids than just eating them. He knew for sure Poseidon was, Nico literally had a room and Apollo dropped by fairly often to see his kids now. Especially Will.  

Apollo chuckles ruffling his hair with a grin. "You're a good kid, and I know Uncle P is proud of you." The god continues a fond look twinkling in his eyes.  

"Yeah, mmhm." He laughs barely trying to tame the wild mess that Apollo had created. He knew exactly what the God was seeking now but...funnily enough it was better, like a slow drawn-out permission. Comforting, like Hermes would do it. A small chat before getting to business.  

He was...feeling a bit drawn out and exhausted. The training took more out of him than he had been expecting. He sighs heavily leaning against a tree looking back to Apollo. The god stood there silently, his gaze watching him intently. Taking in each movement and any expression he made. Clearly waiting to see his response.  

"It's better." He says suddenly, hiding a smile when the god jolted at his voice, like he wasn't expecting it. "What is?"  

"This." He says gesturing vaguely. "Small talk, no taunting. I don't like cat and mouse games."  

"I wasn't- " 

"You are. You guys stand weird when you're thinking about it." Percy points out raising a brow. It was a stance, a slightly arched one, tense like a predator stalking its prey though, it felt...oddly relaxing.  

Apollo seemed stunned, before a rolling laugh poured from him. His eyes twinkle, his lips quirking upwards. "People should give you more credit. You're a rather observant little whirlpool."  

A scoff draws from him, rolling his eyes as he looked the god over. "It's more common sense. Any god I've seen always does that before they snag someone."  

He wasn't being snagged per say, Apollo was working up to it which he'd gladly take. Gave him more time to calm his nerves. "Anyway, get it over with, I've got another lesson in like two hours." he says with a dramatic sigh.  

There was a pause before Apollo approached him cautiously, getting more confident when no teeth sunk into his arm this time. "I'm not gonna bite this time." Percy complains, half tempted to give a small shove.  

"Well forgive me for being cautious, I can't tell if you're just sassy or genuinely feral." The god shoots back before his hand settles on his shoulder, giving it a warm squeeze. Rather than his vision blurring and warm divine energy sinking into him, Apollos form twisted and grew right in front of him, his hand steadily covering his entire body.  

He hums, going limp once massive fingers curl over his body lifting him up in a loose fist. It was a lot warmer than he was expecting. The ocean felt cool, soothing like aloe over a sunburn, Hermes felt breezy almost, a rush under his skin. Apollo was warm. Like incredibly warm. It was..comfortable actually.  

"Still with me Perc?"  

He hadn't even realized he had closed his eyes until the god spoke, jolting out of his thought. "Mm? Yeah. You're just warm." He mumbles. He stifles a yawn, scowling instead. He grumbles under his breath when it's met with a soft chuckle.  

"I can still bite you." He warns, huffing as he'd brought up to the gods face, a cheeky smile spread across the lips. "So can I Mr. Piranha." Apollo teases, clacking his teeth together.  

If it had been 3 months ago the tease probably would've terrified him, but Percy was more than used to the jabs by now. He rolls his eyes instead, half heartily kicking the gods cheek, sticking his tongue out when Apollo took his foot between his lip. The god was having way too much fun with this.  

"Oh no I'm so terrified. Spare me." The monotone voice only seemed to spur more amusement from the god, a chuckle rumbling from him before his lips parted. The slick feeling of saliva soaking into him as he was eased further inside. Huh. It was more goopy sorta thick... Like honey almost. He must've made a face because a vibration of laughter ran through him. "Yeah, laugh it up, you have gross insides."  

He scoffs trying to remain aloof as he slipped further inside the gods tongue safeguarding him from scraping against the bottom teeth. "You know one of these days you should be less gross and just magic me inside. Dad said you guys do that too." He points out closing his eyes as he let the warmth roll over him. It was comforting, soothing his aches and pains in ways water did.  

The motions were familiar, his feet hitting the back of the gods throat, he tenses briefly, surprised when nothing happened. He cracks his eyes open a bit, waiting for a swallow to ripple over his feet but he sorta just laid there. He craned his neck the best he could, but he couldn't exactly see what expression was on the god's face. Fingers brushed against his head, like he was seconds from being pulled back out.  

"Are you...waiting?" he asks slowly, a tad stunned. He hadn't expected that. All because he tensed a bit? Huh...that was oddly thoughtful. "I'm fine, it just gets weird with the sensation of falling." he admits after a second. A hum rolls over him before the familiar grasp of muscles tugs him downwards. The pressure and squeezing are almost comforting at this point. He sighs heavily closing his eyes again, not that it mattered considering the surrounding innards glowed.  

The rippling of the muscles pulling him down was a motion that he had actually gotten used to. Mindlessly he counted the seconds, keeping his breathing as even as possible as he was squeezed and squished. The tight feeling at his feet giving way with the slight pressure.  

Instead of a drop he was expecting it was more of a slide, the thick goopy insides making him scrunch his face up. "Ugh, why are you so goopy?" He grumbles. He shifted upwards, trying to push against the plush muscle, his hands sinking into it like putty. Different for sure.  

"I'm not goopy! Literally none of my kids have ever complained."  

"It's literally like putty in here!"  

He makes face pulling his hand back, the thick mucus clinging to his hand as he did. "Actually at least putty doesn't stick to you." He grumbles, flopping back against the stomach, wall, grimacing when he sunk into the plush muscle.  

"I'm sorry next time I'll tidy up, put some air fresheners inside, maybe add a rug." Apollo scoffed, Percy smirking when he felt a few very pointed pokes targeting his back.  

"I feel like a rug would make this ten times worse." Percy laughs, closing his eyes with a sigh. He had two hours before his next lesson...that gave him some time for a night. "Might turning out the light? Man, you're like the worst to nap with." he teases, stretching out a bit. It was like being on a weird waterbed. He could get used to water, but this was like an oddly firm Jello. 

A dramatic sigh caused the muscles to ripple all around him, the light fading from a bright light to a softer glow. "My kids never complain." the god grumbles, though the fond tone indicated he wasn't truly upset.  

"Your kids sometimes actually glow in the dark, so doesn't surprise me- now shut it." Percy murmurs, not real heat in his voice as he relaxes further into the organ. It really was like sunbathing, a constant warmth enveloping him no matter how he moved or turned. His lips quirk up, more so when a steady pressure rubs against his back.  

So, Apollo wasn't as bad as he first had thought that was good to know. He could live with this.  

"Wake me up in two hours, I'm serious I have classes to teach." He grumbles, not even fighting the wave of exhaustion.  

"Mmhm, we'll see if you're up for it then."  

Percy scowls, letting an annoyed huff out. Well, there went the rest of his day. 

[ineedpaigebuckets]

unspoken truths

pt. 1 (intro)

warnings: none

an: just kinda introducing the series a little. also this is the first fic i've ever written so be nice please. love you all dm me with more requests!!

------------------------------------------------------

azzi pov

the second i walk into the hopkins gym for my first basketball practice with the team my eyes are drawn to this one girl. paige bueckers. of course i knew her, best baller in the country. she was absolutely gorgeous, with long blonde hair piercing blue eyes and just her energy. but she wasn't pretty in a "wow she's so pretty" way she was pretty in a way that it captivated me.

as i got settled in with the team i quickly realized paige had a girlfriend. the idea of her liking girls kinda set off something in me but i didn't know what. i'd never liked a girl before and i certainly didn't right now. we didn't even talk much, i had my friends she had hers, but she was always nice to me.

just as planned i met this guy he asked me out and we started dating and quickly i realized something changed. paige stopped smiling at me and the small nods of approval after a good play faded away. i couldn't help but wonder... why?

paige pov

i hear the doors click open and there she stood. azzi fudd. the new transfer, and my god was she beautiful. her beautiful brown curls cascading down her back in lose braids, her caramel skin glowing in the florescent lights, and her big brown eyes sucking me in. the way i saw her wasn't the way i saw anyone else, even my own girlfriend. my girlfriend was blonde with green eyes her name was emma, she'd never made me feel like this.

azzi and i never became friends, probably because i was too scared to go up to her because of the strange bubbling feeling in my stomach whenever she so much as looked my way.

but then azzi started dating him. jake marshall. he might be the most homophobic man in our school, why would she do that. that's where the tension started between us, we never fought but we both had some sort of unspoken grit between us. and it just made me want her more.

[pensbridge]

This is going to be my only post I ever do THIS. It needs to be said (if even only for me). Be warned. (& I'm totally being a little funny & unserious with my words, but I also mean it). but really I just need to be so silly for a moment..

I've been in some fandoms and every fandom goes through this, but...There's no fandom on earth that quite literally walked in with no changes to the picture of the Community meme like the Bridgerton fandom. yayyy! we made history again We are the exact same picture, because it wasn't that bad! I can nearly guarantee you, people noticed the quality change, but it literally wasn't bad like you say! Some of us truly stumbled in here like wtf, and still haven't gotten the answer. Stumbling into Part 1..was stressful, but Part 2 was actual insanity!

like, I honestly don't think some people watched it all the way (i saw something about ppl finishing in 2 hours)! If they even went back, who knows?! But the takes are just literal fables!

I actually think the blind trolls coming back from the dead & thin air for part 1 have deluded some of you into thinking that part 1 was bad (it wasn't; it was good), and as a result made you think that part 2 was worse than it is. I totally respect your differing opinion, but you're wrong!

There are 2 real "issues" with this season and the other stuff is artificial grass.

#1 The lack of happy couple moments that get replaced by boring side plots (part 1 was actually enjoyable to me, but this one I actually almost fell asleep watching Benedict before I was awoken by his bi awakening). But to be frank, it's always been an ensemble, and I find it funny that people forget: People bitched about polin season 2; they bitched about Penelope since season 1.

The fact that they don't get a full episode 8 of being happy in love was criminal (but i will admit my wrong expectation, because this is Bridgerton (what else is there to expect, lol). However they are cute! Naysayers, deny it all you want, but they are literally perfect! They are literally a cute engaged couple, the moms including Lady Danbury cannot help but squeal over them, and the only thing holding them back is that this conflict is seemingly dragged on, BUT it doesn't even go on long! (perhaps it felt that way because there were only 4 in this batch of eps). And I get you can be upset, but stop the bullshit because "WE WERE ROBBED." You are lyyyyinnnnnggggg.

He finds out in 6! Anthony was with her sister for 6 eps ... Simon....avoided her til she had to make the move at the end. If we're including Queen Charlotte, George got the most cohesive story, but we'll chalk that priviledge up to the fact that he got only 6 eps; and also don't lie, the recycle-rinse-repeat episode was boring(!!!!) minus the last scene & the visitation of his trauma (u can disagree w/this, but I was bored the first time watching and didn't ask for the copy & paste same episode).

#2 is the pacing (really the last 1⅓-ish episodes is the problem)- because I wish they made up by the end of 7, which is really more of the same of what I said about them being happier in the final one. However, (which brings me to my point) if they'd shifted him finding out earlier... (again they only had 1 episode prior to do this in (because there was no way it was happening in part 1 even if the 2 part split never existed), ...it could have fixed most likely all of this: if everything was moved up an episode (+ they switched Cressida's reveal + Colin finding out), they'd be fighting in 7 but united for Cressida's lie, then they'd make up by the end, and they wouldn't still be struggling with differences between them in the first part of episode 8 at all, thus there would be the happy couple moments from my point #1.

And I newly realized how this aspect of polin's season arc compares to the others. The conflicts of the other 2 seasons have been more heavily external obstacles preventing them from really getting together, while visiting some internal demons later after the drama; but this season is pretty much just them with internal conflict between them (if not for all of part 1 then for the entirety of part 2! (i personally think that the Debling stuff is less love-trianglry than what they've done in the past & fr he is in 2 eps really and not even fully courting her for majority of it)! Enemies to lovers does have internal conflict between them in the beginning, but it's not something actually between them that's "preventing" them from riding into the sunset (other than fake fighting like they hate each lol i say w/love 4 the characters & E2L). But since Colin and Pen's conflict is actually her (Whistledown) it maybe feels like they are more at odds than what is truly going on under the surface. Because they are established to love each other already unlike the other couples, who you are seeing the journey and getting to the end. While Part 2, you are seeing the unraveling of an established couple even though the love is there and the only important reason you need to get how they can work it out. We won on complexity and realness harder than the people w/bad takes can fathom, they have to make stuff up!

The other (kind of related for some) stuff:

The sex scenes: I get it! They lied (lol)! I hope we get them! But we know why it's lacking; they're deleted scenes; they exist! But the carriage scene - HOT. The mirror - HOT. The 30 second scene (lol) - HOT. But again: K*nthony got 2 spicy scenes their season! S*phne got a montage but it kind of sucked looking back (i'm not seriously hating but you know that it was too much, literally even then i think ppl knew) but plz don't start the ship discourse again & PLZ DO BE LOUD ABOUT THESE SCENES THO, I NEED THEM (lol)

But the love confession.....sssssssss. There were so many!!! *that book one is not good, i'm sorry (i'm being lighthearted here; you can disagree w/it but I do kind of hatttte it!)

"They didn't include..." don't know if you know but the writers make the story. Their story is not the book. You knew what you jumped into. (you can be sad but..) [i am not touching the conversation on Fran. But if we're really being real that side shouldn't wanna be grouped w/the side of The Departeds who are forever the head of online harrassers....by - now causing official pages to disable their comments (you don't have to tell me it wasn't all of you. I know 😔). it's actually kind of funny how I did not know like 95% of the actual discourse those first couple days (and there's a lot of discourse to see). but, anyway my main concern this whole post are my top 2 mcs. [ps the Departeds I meant traveling; i'm not that mean]

The misinterpretation of Colin: if you hate him, then go away! Thnx 4 the record-breaking views!

The baby? Cheers to 2 years in the future w/baby No Name! *lol* I'm not gonna say you shouldn't be upset about the name. For me, it was fine, because I knew they'd be back for s4. Also, preparation guys, I doubt we will even see the child that much if Daphne is any indication.

This show has never been comparable to your favorite Oscar-worthy film (literally obviously!), but the show is not terrible like some very widely popular of what's out there (and i'm not even talking about bad shows that everyone knows are bad). There is some depth to the characters and some ingrained-trauma to living in a male-dominated society with no autonomy, and traumas to the men as well. Re: the choices and drama every season. It's... a drama show! People need to go re-read the fantasy books if they want happy, lack of conflict all the time (and men yanking their wives by the wrists)... Go read fanfic if you don't like the show and a certain couple. Bridgerton is escapism and in some crazy overtaking of loud voices in the fandom, this fandom has been one of the least escap-ist fandoms ever. Because people will be like "*suspending my disbelief*" every 2 secs, but ...babe that's not doing what you just said. There's embellished "Based on a True Story" documentary fans that do this better than you tbh (i'm being a lil funny here, but honestly)

And I simply need to say this, regardless that it won't change, I need the acknowledgment jokes and the mental cleanse. if u don't want to read × The fandom...bro. I'm not even upset, I actually laughed at some of this - like, there's 3 types of people:

#1 offended people responding to op posts, because they don't like what they said; lol, the hypocrisy! The amount of people in my comments in this past month alone if I said something positive...abt the show, abt the characters...anything (new posts, old post) is more hatred than ever ever. The good polin fans are sensitive, but any and every bad typists in the comments are so easily offended...over positivity. Why.are.you.bitter?

"I'm bitter cause.." I literally don't care

#2 people reblogging things they hate to say what they hate. thnx for the notes??? bro, some comments on other ppl's gifs (rants on what they didn't like, crying abt a character/why they hate a character, and sometimes it has nothing to do with the scene gifed).

#3 "I'm allowed to be upset." why are you fighting for this? You can! Go in peace. Some people had no issues with what you say, but you are fighting this because you are determined to make people agree with your negativity no less. If you cared about the courtesy (i know that you don't) you'd let some ppl bask in what they weren't disappointed in & were excited to end the journey with (*and i expect nothing from the haters, but some of this was coming from inside the house lol). The reason you were wrong for this is because YOU WERE WRONG! There are ppl that liked it. You have no control; I get it. dw i'm sure you'll be fine.

Anyway, if anyone even read this far, you rock 4 that. If you got it, we're healing from this dumpster fire together; and if this even made 1 person laugh or feel better, it's worth it. I'm actually good now but it was rough that first stepping into the chaos and I had so many thoughts at first, so i wrote a lot from the initial shock those moments, [and now i'm in the laughing about this bullshit phase] so if u get it u get it (and can maybe have a chuckle) >>> This is literally just your neighborly (if ur nice here) joke!post *we're laughing thru the pain* / w/e to you (if you're not because i need to & this stuff isn't new & that one goes for all divisions of the fandom not just the main contented one of this post)

[tgcg]

hey guys. this is smth i have been thinking abt doing for a while but tonight i decided 4reel. i'm gonna put the blog on a kinda indefinite hiatus.

things have rlly changed for me & my life, & i need other things to change as well. i dont wanna divulge like... all my shit ere. but i just wanna say thanx to everyone who ever left a reply, kind message, fun ask, even just a like.

the kind of reception this blog got was totally beyond anything i coulda expected. i am still rly floored by it, u guys kindness & generosity. i'm rlly glad i could entertain you all and do right by these 2 guys.

i had so much fun here. making scripts & drawing them out. it's smth i have truly never experienced before & doubt i ever will anywhere else except this here blog. that was truly down to you guys & your enthusiasm and it'll never leave me. like, shit, getting dubs of my comix? fucking insane.

dk has been rly important to me for a rly long time. i became a fan of it over a decade ago. ive talked on da blog before about why i like em so much... so i'll just say here that i also don't rlly think these guys will ever leave me either. i think they were kinda a permanent mark on my development as a person. u can put me so so far away from hs & i'd still express that fondness for em deep down. they're a rlly great duo & i can't say at all that this decision is due to a lack of interest. love u dk <3.

for now i'm just gonna leave the blog as is, but in the future it may become p-word protected, who know... i'm not a fan of creating lost media since archiving obscure shit is a hobby of mine, so... we will "C"...

i'll still be hovering around over at @cgtg. i rlly like doing pwyw requests over there so i can flex my mspaint muscles and give u guys fun stuff. currently those are closed, but yea if ur interested you can drop a follow there & i'll say when they're open. no pressure to run over there tho. i understand that plenty were here for the dk's and i get that.

i might not be leaving this blog alone for good, & i think that's worth stating. who knows what will happen in da future? we're here right now & i'm very glad to have been here *until* now.

pls always have fun, do what you want forever, be kind, & take care. remember above all that youtube is where the poop is.

thanks for hanging out with me. love u all.

-randy tgcg 🙂

[luveline]

Hotch request! Please sir, can I have a Hotch request? I'm trying to follow what you said about comfort but also Hotch being angry. So I get low blood sugars cause of my diabetes and I'd love if you wrote something about them being on a case and BAU!Reader is really busy trying to get stuff done, so she has a bad low blood sugar and sits down but one of the local officers thinks she's slacking off so she tries to keep going and Hotch comes in and defends her, making sure she has everything she needs and doesn't faint. Love you <3

ty for requesting!! hope this is okay <3 fem, 1.3k

“I understand.” You frown, phone pressed to your ear hard. “I totally understand, but it’s really important that I get to talk to her.” 

“She’s on heavy medication,” the nurse replies, unimpressed by your asking, “she wouldn’t be much use anyhow.” 

“I understand, but–”

“Listen, I’m sorry, but we have a lot to do here. I’m sorry we can’t help. Bye.” 

You groan in frustration, bringing your phone from your ear to see the Call Disconnected notification flash across your screen. How are you and the team ever supposed to get answers if nobody wants to help? Your head rushes. You kid yourself into believing it’s annoyance like a hot flash, you’ve been sweaty for ages, but then reality cuts through. What usually makes you sweaty and dizzy?

“Where’s my test kit?” you murmur to yourself. 

The door opens while you’re looking through your bag. 

“Agent,” Officer Debs greets, a stout, sturdy woman with sharp eyes, “any news from Georgetown Psychiatric?” 

You rummage frustratedly through your things. You should know better than to misplace your test kit. Doesn’t matter. You’ll just have to eat something quickly before you get any worse. “Uh, no, nothing they could help me with.” 

“Did you call them?” 

Your eyelids are getting heavier. You sit down on impulse, worried you’re gonna fall if you stay standing. “Yeah, I called them.” You’ve had diabetes for long enough to know what to do, but it’s always harder than it felt the last time when your blood sugar drops. It can be so sudden. 

Realising you might need help, you clear your throat, about to ask Officer Debs if she can get the glucose tablets from your bag. You should’ve grabbed them —your thoughts are starting to thicken like someone’s poured cornflour into your skull. 

“Is now the best time for a break?” Officer Debs asks. 

You focus very hard on bringing your attention into the present. “No, sorry,” you say, standing up. You open your phone and direct to the contacts page, clicking your favourite contact at the very top. 

Don’t know m where test kit is, you text clumsily. Hotch should still be in the precinct. Do u have it ? 

“I hope you’re texting someone about the case,” Officer Debs says sternly. 

You shove your phone into your pocket. “Um,” you say, getting confused now, and not wanting to be shouted at. You grab for the page of phone numbers you’d been making your way through, can’t get your hands to work. “I wasn’t. But I’m getting to it.” 

“We really don’t have time to waste.” 

“I know, but my blood sugar–”

She talks over you. “What’s the point in all our officers working day and night when you FBI agents can’t be bothered to put in the same effort?” Her voice rises. “It’s ridiculous!”

“It’s not ridiculous, we’re trying our best just like you are.”

“Clearly not!” 

“My blood sugar,” you say, more insistently. “Stop shouting at me.” 

The door opens quickly, creaking hard on its hinge. Hotch doesn’t slam it open, he never slams anything, but he doesn’t hesitate either. “I have it, you left it in the car after you tested this morning,” he says, your kit in his hand. He gives Officer Debs a surprised up and down. “Who’s shouting?” he asks, unimpressed. 

You wouldn’t like to be on his bad side. “Hotch, I need a tablet.” 

If he’s shocked at your lethargy, he doesn’t say. He ignores the officer from that point on. “Yes, I think so, too.” 

Hotch is more efficient than you were, grabbing your tube of glucose tablets and shaking one out into his hand. “Can you take it yourself?” 

“You want to chew it for me?” you ask. 

He tips it into your palm. “Very funny.” 

He opens the test kit on the desk and starts to extract the pieces. It’s quite complicated, especially for people unfamiliar with it, but you’re pretty sure Hotch learned how to use it the day he knew you had diabetes. He wipes his hands with an alcohol wipe and presses a test strip into the meter, careful not to touch the end, before wiping your finger with a new wipe, and readying the lancing stick. 

“Gonna stick you, okay?” he asks quietly.

“Mm,” you hum, the glucose tablet like chalk between your teeth. 

He sticks you. Some days it feels more painful than other days, but today it’s like a pinprick in a haze. He squeezes your finger, wipes the first drop of blood with a cotton ball, and dips the test strip into the second bead of blood, careful not to jab your cut. 

In the five seconds it takes for you to get a result on the meter, he kneels down, pressing another cotton ball to your finger to stem the flow of blood. “Good,” he murmurs to you. The meter flashes on the table. “Not so good. Fifty nine, huh? How’d that happen?” 

You shake your head slowly from one side to another. “I’ve no idea.” 

“Okay. Well, that tablet’s not gonna do it, honey. Do you have any gels?” 

“No,” you say apologetically. 

“That’s fine. I’ll get you a drink.” 

Officer Debs clears her throat. You may be foggy, but her awkwardness is palpable. “I’ll get it.”

“It has to be full sugar. Coke, if you can,” Hotch says. She nods in understanding and leaves in record time. Hotch turns back to you, his severity melting away. “She was shouting at you?”

“Tried to tell her about my blood sugar. She told me we’re not here to waste time.” You close your mouth, licking the glucose off of your teeth.

“How did you get so low?” he asks.

“Must have done something wrong this morning. Am I okay?” 

“We’ll see. I think you’ll be alright.” 

“Don’t usually get so dizzy.” 

“When was the last time you were below seventy?” 

“Don’t know,” you mumble. 

Hotch peels the cotton ball from your finger and packs your things away cleanly. “Let’s see how you feel in ten minutes. After your coke. Now… what did the Officer say to you?” 

He’s getting his facts straight. Again, you wouldn’t like to be on his bad side. You relay your conversation, Officer Debs hadn’t even been that bad, just uppity, stuck on her own assumptions rather than willing to listen when you’d needed a hand. Her lack of empathy could’ve really affected you. Low blood sugar is no joke. 

You tell him, savouring in the warmth of his hand on your leg, how uncaring he is to be kneeling in front of you on the precinct floor. He frowns at you long and hard. 

By the time Officer Debs returns, he’s on his feet again. “A word?” he asks her. 

You don’t hear all of what he’s saying through the door as you sip your coke. He doesn’t shout, but he defends you with a heavy gravity. Officer Debs speaks up and he cuts her down, something about understanding, and then a more clear telling off, “I don’t want to hear about Agent L/N’s performance from you again. She’s my agent, and if she needs a break, she’ll take one. It’s none of your concern.” 

“I understand.” 

You feel much peppier when he comes back in, though he appears less so. “You’re nasty,” you say, smiling, happy to be defended, and happier to know you’re not gonna pass out.

He crosses the room. Still frowning, he takes your face into his hands, and he leans down inch by inch, until he’s pressing a soft, soft kiss to your lips. You barely have time to close your eyes before he’s pulling away, thumb pressed into your soft cheek. “Nobody gets to shout at you. Especially over your blood sugar.” 

“It’s usually you telling me off for letting it get low,” you mumble. 

He stands up straight, leaving you wanting for another kiss you won’t get, hands stolen back from your cheeks. “You’re ageing me prematurely. Drink some more coke, please, sweetheart.” 

“What do I get in return?” 

He touches your face briefly, as much of a promise as you’re going to get. 

[lolaandthens0me]

I get asked this all the time, "So, how did you get into this whole diaper thing in the first place?"

I thought I'd take a moment to talk about it!

I am not a "factory-installed" abdl, but rather an "after-market upgrade".  I was first introduced to diapers and the whole abdl scene through my ex. They, being a longtime DL, told me about their diaper fetish pretty early on in our relationship.  I was only 18 or 19 at the time and thus quite innocent and inexperienced in kink and sexuality in general. I was at first a little confused by the thought of being turned on by diapers, but very open-minded to learn about and discover why this fluffy, absorbent plastic-backed thing did it for them, and for so many others I came to find out!

They encouraged me to do a bit of investigating and education on my own into the world of AB/DL to see if I could find something about it that spoke to or resonated with me.  I popped my online-kink cherry on the Tumblr of old. The Tumblr where porn, especially diaper porn, reigned like golden rays of sunshine. You could find it all and see it all on Tumblr back in the day. I quickly stumbled upon lots of ddlg content, and here was this thing that seemed to incorporate my budding, but long held interest in being submissive *and* my ex's interest in diapers. And ~voila!~ MisterAndLola was born.

We focused on building a ddlg dynamic, including the use of some AB stuff like onesies, cute socks, Goodnites, and calling them Daddy. We started our first Tumblr blog, TheDiaperedandtheDamned.  We began to take some cute pictures and post them on Tumblr and Reddit. I bought a few toys and coloring books, decorated our Guest Room with some decals and fairy lights, and started to try to wet in my pull-ups. 

It turns out, it was a lot harder than I thought! I would practice wetting while sitting on the toilet and when home alone. I was extremely nervous about leaking, and was struggling to get my potty-trained brain and body to let go. My ex had the thought -  why not get some adult diapers and try those?  I would surely not leak using those and it might make me feel safer or more comfy in the thought of "unpotty-training" my mind. The crazy thing is, it worked. And there I was, wearing diapers.  I believe the first couple I tried were ABU Lavenders and DC Amors. I felt extremely silly, but also shyly naughty wearing these crinkly, poofy undergarments. And the thought of peeing my pants, wherever I was, started to turn me on.  The taboo factor of willingly peeing in my "underwear" as a thriving, strong adult woman felt delicious.  I loved the feeling of being naughty. 

The first time I finally full-on wet my diaper, I immediately felt burning humiliation. And that also made me feel deliciously naughty. It turns out, I really have a thing for pee. My own, others’, it excites me and always pushes my button.  I don’t have an inherent fetish for diapers, but I think I do for pee, or more generally, liquids.  Even the feel of my own slippery wetness when I’m aroused does it for me.  And being covered in cum…yup…that does it for me too.

After months of growing and exploring and trying on the role of “little girl”, I realized that I really don’t find a lot of joy or fulfillment in age play.  The ddlg dynamic wasn’t really working for me or my partner at the time. But the fondness and growing arousal for being in and peeing in diapers…that was just beginning. Thus, my diaper kink was born.

[purplecoffee13]

Please Please Please - Pt 2* (final)

Summary: “A sudden call from Harry in the middle of the night makes you realize just how little you actually know about your neighbor.”

Wc: 5k

Tropes: good girl x bad boy / neighbors

Warnings: angst, fighting, cursing, SMUT, bit of a degradation kink, multiple orgasms, GUN KINK, corruption kink

A/N: Hey guys! As promised, here is part 2 of Pls Pls Pls. It is quite a sudden 180 from the previous part, so try not to get whiplash. Enjoy!! :)

General Masterlist

Spending your Sunday night at a police station bailing out your neighbor was definitely not on your list of preferred weekend activities. But here you are, sitting on a chair, waiting for the officers to bring Harry outside.

You couldn't believe it at first. Of course, you knew it had to be some kind of emergency when your ringing phone woke you up. After all, it was two in the morning, and random calls at two in the morning usually didn't indicate anything good.

"Hello?" Your croaky voice greeted whoever was calling you this late, or early, depending on your lifestyle.

"Hi love. I need your help." You frowned at the sound of Harry talking through the phone.

"Harry?" You questioned.

"Yes, darling?"

"Wha— are you okay? Where are you?" You leaned over your nightstand to turn on the lamp. Your eyes shut tightly at the sudden harsh light, rubbing your eyes as you stifled a yawn.

"I'm fine, I'm at the police station. Listen, I need you to go into my apartment, get the envelope with cash from under my mattress, and then I need you to get over here. Could you do that for me, darling?"

"Uhm, yes. Yes, of course." You got up from your bed and grabbed the first pants you saw. Your movements got to a halt when you realized it would be impossible to even do that. "But wait, I don't have your—"

"There's an extra key in your top kitchen drawer next to the fridge."

"Wha..." your voice trailed off as you buried over to your kitchen and opened the drawer, indeed finding a key that didn't belong to your apartment. "When did you put this here?"

"I'll explain later, I promise. See you in a bit?"

You sighed. What the absolute fuck was going on? This man might just be even more mysterious than you had already thought.

"See you in a bit."

The muffled voices coming from the other side of the door makes your perk up in your seat. Like you had expected, you spot Harry's face through the windows on the door. He is wearing a frown that makes him look very intimidating, and a wave of intense stress hits you.

Who the fuck even is this neighbor of yours?

You are on your feet very quickly when Harry finally walks through the door. Your eyes widen at the state of him. He is wearing a tank top with a dress shirt thrown over it. The dress shirt is scratched open and his entire outfit is dirty. His face is mostly untouched, except for a cut in his eyebrow that is covered in dried blood. He looks rough.

His lips form into a grin when he spots you, but you are having none of it. Your knitted eyebrows make your glare more intense, and you don't even give Harry the opportunity to greet you when he is close enough, because you are already walking towards the exit.

You push the doors open and storm across the parking lot. You hear the chuckling scoff from behind you after the creaking door signals that Harry is hot on your heels.

"What's wrong sweetheart?" He asks almost cockily, strutting behind you. You've arrived at your car, so you turn around to face him, shaking your head in disbelief.

"Are you serious?!" You groan, to which Harry shrugs lazily. "You called me in the middle of the night, asking me to bail you out with money that you've hid in a duffel bag under your bed, which — by the way — I had access to because you planted a spare house key in my apartment! That's what wrong!"

"I told you I'd explain." Harry says, still nonchalant as ever. You can quite literally feel your blood boiling. Why in God's name is he being so relaxed about this? 

"Yeah, you fucking better." You spit out, clenching your jaw as you turn back towards the car. Harry's spiteful voice stops you in your tracks, though.

"Hey! You didn't have to come here, nobody forced you."

When your eyes meet his again, you don't miss the frustration that radiates from his. It is your turn to scoff as you take a few steps towards Harry until you stand in front of him.

"Oh yeah, that's fucking easy," you are about ready to start a fight, but the sight of his bruised face makes you think twice. Instead, you sigh, throwing your arms over each other. "Get in the car, we'll talk at home."

You are about to get back to the car when you realize that Harry isn't following you. You squint at him and the way he is standing there on the parking lot, a wide stance with his hands behind his back. He doesn't do well with following orders or demands, you've learned that about him in these past weeks. But right now, you couldn't care less.

Rolling your eyes, you march back to Harry and grab a fistful of his shirt before pulling him along to the passenger seat. By how easy it is to get him in the car, you figure that he enjoys your current attitude, otherwise he never would've let you boss him around like this.

You aren't interested in whether he likes it or not right now, all you care about it getting home.

The drive is excruciating. The radio fills the silence that neither of you are willing to break. Every shift in his seat and sigh from his mouth manages to make your blood boil. You can't believe he has the nerve to act as if he has the right to be pissed right now.

It is only when the both of you are at your door, and you silently walk into your own apartment, that Harry breaks the silence.

"Where are you going?" He asks, irritated.

"Bed."

"Thought you wanted to talk." His tone his mocking, but you can tell that he is hiding real confusion behind it.

"I decided I'm not in the mood to hear your bullshit excuses right now, maybe tomorrow." You shrug, keys rattling as you open the door.

"So dramatic..." Harry mutters under his breath, but you hear him just fine. You are quick to turn around.

"What did you say?"

Harry shakes his head, sighing. "You heard me. If you're so fucking mad about this, why the fuck did you even come in the first place?"

"Well, what the fuck did you think, Harry?! Did you expect me to be all cool and casual about this?!" You throw your hands up expressively. You turn around and open the door of your apartment, walking in at a furious pace with Harry hot on your heels.

"I told you I'd fucking explain! Jesus Christ... If I'd known you were gonna whine about this so much, I would've called one of my buddies." He says, and it makes you stifle a laugh. Hands on your hips, you take a few steps towards Harry.

"Fine, explain then, tell me what the fuck you were doing in there." You demand, and you notice how his face softens at your calmer yet stern tone. He sighs, looking to the side. Your heart stops for a second, tension growing on your stomach. He is avoiding your gaze. He never avoids it.

"Just— got caught up in a brawl at the pub. Let my buddies take a run for it, but the police did catch me." He says, eyeing your body. You frown, your eyes searching for his but you absolutely cannot get him to look at you.

"You're lying to me." You say, and even though it is merely a suggestive thought, Harry's reaction makes you realize you are speaking the truth. Harry takes a deep breath, shaking his head as if it should be able to convince you. "You're a fucking liar."

You step forward, making sure it is impossible to avoid eye contact with you. "You told me you were letting me know you. But you don't want me to know you. Telling me simple things to give me the illusion that you trust me. Meanwhile your knuckles are constantly covered in bruises and you have duffel bags of money in your bed. Or that gun, in the drawer of your nightstand?"

A furrow grows between Harry's eyebrows at the mention of the gun. "You went through my things?" He growls. You nod calmly.

"I figured I might as well get to know the guy I'm bailing out." You shrug, watching the anger rise to his face.

"Do you have any idea who the fuck you're talking to right now?" He asks, near the brink of a meltdown. His jaw is clenched and he looks like he might kill you.

"No, apparently I don't!" You shout into his face. Harry laughs bitterly, sending a shiver down your spine. He shakes his head and turns around, heading for the door.

"Should've called one of my buddies..." He mutters as he goes to open the door.

"You keep saying that, but you called me." You call out, and Harry looks back at you.

"Yeah, and it was a big fucking mistake. Don't know what I was thinking." He retorts.

"You called me, because you knew that I'd come. Because I care about you and I was worried sick, and because I would come and get you every single fucking time. No matter the situation, no matter the amount of money filled duffel bags you have under your bed, no matter the gun you sleep next to every night." You're now standing in front of Harry, looking up at him. The confrontation in your sentence is rubbing him the wrong way, you can see it in his face. You continue anyway; he needs to hear it.

"But you're too much of a pussy to admit that someone cares about you, unconditionally, because that would make it all a bit too real, wouldn't it? But I'm not disposable, you can't just cut me out of your life whenever you please. That's not how this works."

That strikes a nerve. Harry steps even closer, leaning down a little bit. "You have no fucking idea how easily I can cut you out of my life."

"Go, then." You cross your arms, waiting for him to walk out that door. Your words are cocky, and you are confident in what you are saying, but a small part of you worries that maybe you've miscalculated your connection with Harry.

Harry doesn't say anything, merely scoffing at your casual words. He wants to turn around, walk out, and never come back. To prove to you just how disposable you are. But he can't, because you aren't.

"For fucks sake..."

The words fall from his lips in a whisper, and before you can figure out what he means, Harry lunges forward and grabs your head to pull it close to him, his lips pressing against yours.

You moan at the feel of his tongue intertwining with yours, and you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer to you. There is so much anger, frustration, sadness, love, and other indescribable things that built the intensity of the kiss. Nothing could've prepared you.

He pushes you against the wall, his hands taking all over your body while yours are tangling themselves in his beautiful curls. With a hand on your lower back, Harry pulls your body closer to his, your bodies almost as close as your tongues are now. You need more of him.

Taking ahold of your thighs, Harry lifts you up and carries you to your bedroom, where he drops you onto the bed. Your back hasn't even entirely hit the mattress before Harry's hands start undressing you. He takes off your shoes and pants in no time, the both of you way too pent up to take your time right now. Then, he slides your underwear down your legs and throwing it into the corner of the room.

Three of his fingers trace over your upper body before he pushes down your lower jaw and stuffs them in your mouth.

"Suck." He orders.

You do as he says, licking and sucking on his fingers like it is the last thing you are ever allowed to do. After a couple seconds, Harry takes back his fingers, and leans down, spitting on your pussy himself. A whimper leaves your mouth the second the liquid comes in contact with your sensitive skin, and you moan loudly when he starts to rub it over your cunt.

"You're so fucking frustrating. Shouting at me, cursing me out..." He mentions. Two of his wet fingers enter your pussy, and you let your head fall back. Refraining yourself from arching into him too much already, you try and focus on something—anything— else. "You're such a brat... and you don't even know who you're dealing with."

Mewling at the feeling of his amazing touch, you manage to croak out. "Show me, then."

"What, sweetheart?" Harry asks with a fake smile. In fact, it seems rather devilish. It shouldn't turn you on even more, but for some fucked up reason it does.

"Show me who I'm dealing with."

A low chuckle escapes his throat. You frown, not amused with the apparent joy he gets from what you're saying. You're being completely serious.

"I don't think you can handle that, sweetheart." He smirks, and it makes you pout.

"Yes, I can." You argue, the frown on your face combined with your big Bambi eyes making you look adorably mad. Harry sighs, clearly entertained by your stubbornness. Without another word, he leans forward and digs his head between your legs. You cry out at the contact of his tongue with your clit, and repeatedly moan his name at the mix of his fingers and tongue driving you properly insane.

Your hips keep shooting upward, and Harry tries to contain your non-stop squirming by pushing down your hips with his free arm. He doesn't restrain you entirely, liking the view of you falling apart for him too much anyway.

When you reach your climax, your hand has found Harry's hair, on which you mercilessly tug while making a mess below him. After riding out your high, Harry grabs your arm and scoops an arm around your waist before picking you up and slinging you over his shoulder.

"What are you doing?!" You shriek, being able to do nothing but hang over him like a ragdoll as he walks out of the bedroom and, towards the front door?

You gasp when he opens the door and you find yourself in the hallway, without any pants on. You hear the sound of keys jingling and a door open, and before you can demand Harry let you go, he waltzes into his own apartment.

His dark walls and furniture are the exact opposite of your apartment. Very manly, very serious.

Harry puts you down, laying you on his couch. He leans forward, his hand sneaking under your shirt to fondle your breast. You bite your lip at the feeling of his firm hands massaging you.

"You wanna know me? You want to know who you're dealing with?" He whispers, and you nod furiously, not being able to go without his touch down there for much longer. "We'll start with a house tour then. This is the living room."

You frown, it's not like his apartment is much different from yours. You look around the room, but your attention is back on Harry the second his mouth is back on your cunt. You mewl, not having expected his mouth on you again so soon.

Harry's skilled tongue along with the sensitivity from your first orgasm gets you closer and closer in an almost embarrassingly short time. Your legs try to control the amount of pleasure that you are getting, but Harry's hands keep spreading them apart, leaving you with no choice but to take everything he gives you.

"I— I'm gonna come!" You groan, that tension in your stomach so close to exploding. He keeps the quick paced tempo with which his tongue is assaulting your clit, and in no time you are twitching as your orgasm washes over you. Harry moans at the way you cry out his name, and licks you clean despite the pleas that tell him to stop because you're too sensitive.

You don't have time to steady your breathing, because Harry is already pulling you up and leading you to the kitchen. He doesn't waste any time, taking off your shirt, leaving you entirely naked. You watch as he takes your body in, your mind too cloudy to feel insecure. But with the way Harry looks at you, you don't think you would've worried about that in the first place.

His eyes rake down your body as he takes off his belt, and walks closer to you. Your hands reach forward, wanting to take off his shirt, but Harry grabs one of your wrists and turns you around. Taking ahold of the other wrist, he ties your hands together with his belt before bending you over his counter.

"My house, my rules." His low voice reminds you, making you shiver in anticipation. You hear some ruffling behind you, and you can only figure that Harry has taken off his pants. His hand rubs over your skin, lowering from your waist to your ass.

"Poor girl, you have no idea what you got yourself into." He taunts, his cock lining up with your pussy, the top of him stroking over your soaking wet cunt. You whine at the minimal contact, needing him to enter you right this second. You flinch forward, moaning loudly when Harry brings his hand down onto your ass. The sting of it almost makes you cry, you want him so bad.

"Please, please... please." you cry, pushing yourself backwards and into him. He pushes you back forward, tutting you.

"So desperate..."

Not being able to hold it any longer, Harry plunges his hard cock into you. A muffled cry escapes your throat, shocked by the size and girth of him. Of course you aren't entirely surprised—he just exceeds that kind of energy—but you hadn't dreamed of it being this big.

"Ah, shit! Harry... oh my god!" The string of words summed up exactly what you were feeling as he thrusted himself into you over and over again: everything.

"You don't know how long I've been wanting to do this..." He says, his hands sliding up and down your back. "Ever since you knocked on my fucking door wearing nothing but that oversized shirt."

"And now here you are, bent over my counter, letting me fuck you in every corner of my apartment." He groans, spanking your ass again. You shoot forward at the impact, moaning at the painful feeling. You didn't know that turned you on so much until now.

"W— What took you so long?" You have the nerve to ask him, but by the laugh that sounded from behind you, it seems that Harry likes your boldness.

"I'm a bad guy, sweetheart. Didn't want to ruin you." He coos, which is extremely contradicting to the harsh thrusts with which he drives himself into you. "But I guess that's too late now."

"I was yours to ruin anyway." You say softly, and it makes Harry still inside of you, followed by a very deep groan. You frown when you feel Harry pulling his cock out of you, confused by the sudden change.

"Fuck, baby. You can't just say shit like that to me, nearly made me come." He is breathing heavily, and tugs on your arms to make you stand up straight. He begins to walk away and grabs your arm, taking you with him. You follow him all the way to a door, which you realize is his bedroom as soon as he opens it.

You are about to ask him about a photograph that his hanging on his wall, when he pushes you onto the bed. Hands still tied behind your back, you let Harry get you a little bit higher on the bed before positioning himself in front of you again.

He spreads your legs as wide as he can, fingers dug into your waistline as he enters you again. You let your head fall back, knitting your eyebrows at how those short seconds without his cock have made his second time entering feel just as tight as the first time. Harry seems to think the same thing, moaning loudly at the tightness of you.

Arching your back, Harry gets an amazing view of your tits bouncing back and forth as he fucks you like you're some sort of ragdoll. He can't help but reach for your breasts again, playing with them and trying not too orgasm too soon upon hearing your loud moans.

You feel like you are on sensory overload. The restraint, the nipple stimulation, and Harry's cock pounding into you, it is bringing you into another galaxy. You never thought it was possible to feel this much pleasure at the same time.

"You are mine to ruin." Harry mumbles, as if reminding himself. You nod at his words, wholeheartedly agreeing with that. If ruining meant him fucking you like this every day, then he could do whatever he wanted.

"Mm, you love that, don't you?" He asks. You open your eyes to look at him, a devilish smile forming on your face. "You love that I'm the monster who you're supposed to be running from. I bet you fantasize about it all the time; the big bad guy corrupting you from your innocence by fucking you into oblivion."

"Yes, yes, yes..." you repeat, too fucked out to say anything else.

"Such a bad girl, getting pounded by her dangerous neighbor." He taunts you, increasing his already quick pace. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, letting the pleasure just wash over you. You feel like you might pass out any minute, but you've also never felt more alive. "You'd let me do it all, won't you?"

"Anything." You pant, struggling to keep your eyes open. You shriek when Harry thrusts into you very deeply and stays there for a couple seconds, leaning over you to grab something. You gasp when you Harry holding his gun. Before you can ask him what the fuck he thinks he's doing, he starts moving again.

It shouldn't be the reason why you're so close to your orgasm all of a sudden, but the sight of Harry holding that gun is quite literally driving you insane. You can't believe it, it is the hottest thing you have ever seen.

To your surprise, he begins to trace lines over your body with the barrel of the gun. You whimper at the cold feeling of the object against your skin, not sure how long you're going to be able to hold in that third orgasm. Then, the gun travels upwards, all the way to your mouth, and your eyes widen when the words leave Harry's pink lips.

"Suck."

You look down at the gun, and back at him, a bit unsure of how safe it is, despite wanting to obey him very badly.

"Safety's on." He adds, calming your nerves a bit. And without a second thought, without considering you are doing a very dangerous thing right now, you take the gun in your mouth. In spite of Harry's vagueness, you trust him very much.

And so you begin sucking on the gun, moaning at the way Harry reacts to it. His thrusts increase in speed and intensity, and the way he massages your breasts are getting you incredibly close.

"Fuck, you're insane. You're fucking perfect." His compliments have you clenching your walls around him, something he doesn't miss. "Are you gonna come for me again, baby? Should've known that danger turns you on so much. Will do anything to keep me close, huh? Even taking my gun in your mouth while you get ruined by my cock."

"Yes, anything—oh fuck! I'm gonna cum!" The words are barely comprehensible with your mouth still filled up with the barrel of his gun, but your body tells Harry enough. Licking the pad of his thumb, he brings it to your clit, rubbing circles until you are a blubbering mess under him. You feel like jelly.

The way you are tightening around him sets off Harry's orgasm. He groans out your name repeatedly as he comes inside of you. The feeling of him coating your walls is a thought you find yourself liking a bit too much for a regular person.

Nothing could've prepared you for this, for him. He takes the gun out of your mouth and puts it back on the nightstand. He keeps his body leaned over you, held up by his own two arms. His hair falls in front of his face, making it a bit more difficult to find your eyes. The both of you are panting heavily, and Harry smiles at your fucked out face.

Slipping a hand underneath your waist, Harry leans back and takes you with him, making you sit up straight. He unties your wrists, throwing the belt on the floor.

"Let's get you to the bathroom, hmm? Last part of the tour." He says, gently picking you up and carrying you over to his bathroom. When he puts you down, you have to hold yourself upright by holding on to the sink. Harry closes the door, giving you some privacy as you pee and check out your face in the bathroom. You wipe off the excess mascara that rests on your cheeks, smiling at the memory of what just happened.

When you get back to Harry's room, he has his boxers back on. At the sight of you, he grabs a t-shirt from the bed and hands it over to you. You put it on without question, only realizing that it is a Rolling Stones t-shirt when you catch yourself in the mirror.

"Got you some water." He points to the nightstand, and indeed, standing next to the gun there is a glass of water. You walk over to it and take a few sips, your eyes falling back on the gun.

"C'mere." Harry's voice interrupts your thoughts, and when you look up, you see that he has sat down. Crawling onto the bed, you join him.

He takes your chin in your hands, his face moving closer to you. "I want you to know that I'm not the safest guy to be around, and I understand if you want to walk away from this. But if you decide to stay, I promise I will keep you safe."

"So this is not going to be the last time that I'm gonna have to bail you out of jail?" You ask, partly joking, as you climb over him to sit on his lap.

"I'll be more careful." He responds, and his avoidance of your question gives you an answer. You nod, your face getting a bit more serious as you think about this a little bit more.

"Should I be scared?" You pout, not knowing if you would be able to handle constant fear. Harry shakes his head, a small smile on his face.

"Like you said, people are afraid of me, not necessarily the other way around." His fingertips dance around your thighs. "I'll keep it separated. And, unless for pleasure intended purposes, I won't ever use that gun around you."

You sigh. "Don't prove the people in this town right, okay? Don't be someone I have to run from."

Harry pulls you close, bringing your lips to his. It is a short and sweet kiss, one filled with the reassurance of a promise.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

taglist: @mellamolayla @natedelrey

[chris-hallelujah]

Have You Ever Tried This One? pt. 2 | m.s.

Part One Here!

Warnings: foul language, oral (m and f receiving), alcohol usage

Word Count: 1.8k words

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Enter my giveaway!! (closes 11/15)

Divider by: @anitalenia

A/N: Thank you all for the love on part one! I was not expecting it to get the attention it did. Thank you again @delilahsturniolo for the inspo and letting me make your idea my own. I'm sorry if it feels rushed -- I knew you all were waiting for this so I tried to hurry!!

<3 - Billie

The lights in the arena darkened and you disappeared from the view of the crowd's view. "Goodnight Boston, I'll see you soon!" You called into the mic before handing it off to someone on stage crew. Your manager handed you a water bottle which you gladly took. Making your way back to your dressing room, she fussed over your hair and outfit.

"There are a few journalists who want to speak with you and those boys you invited backstage," she said powdering your face. You waved her off.

"I just got done with a concert, they can deal with a little bit of imperfection," you laughed walking out of your dressing room. In the lobby area backstage you saw the triplets with Chris' girlfriend standing against a wall. You waved at them to acknowledge them quickly before you had to deal with the few journalists. After about 10 minutes of interviews and answering questions, you were finally free. You sauntered over to the group with a smile. "Hi! I'm so sorry to keep you all waiting! I'm Billie, it is so nice to meet you all," You exclaimed shaking each of their hands as they introduced themselves. Your hand lingered connected to Matt's for a few seconds longer than the others. He was quiet, shy as you all conversed. Chris and Nick did most of the talking. "I've seen some of your videos. You guys are hilarious," you smiled looking across all of them but then locking eyes with Matt.

"Y-you've seen our videos?" he asked surprised, earning a nod from you.

"I have and I'm really honored you all came tonight. I hope you enjoyed the show." You all chatted for a bit before your manager passed by giving you a look to wrap it up. "It was great to get to meet you all. And, Matt, if you're up for it, I'd love to chat more." You flashed him a confident smile and handed him a paper with your number on it. He took it with a shaky hand, staring at it wide eyed.

"Yea, no, that - yea sounds good," he blurt out earning a laugh from his brothers.

"You might have broke him," Nick teased.

After you all parted ways you made your way back to your hotel room. The hot shower water ran down your body as you felt your muscles relax. The plush bathrobe hugged your body as you climbed out of the shower and, as if on cue, your phone buzzed.

Hey, you put on a great show tonight. Thanks for the handcuffs. Now I just need to put them to use ;)

You're too sweet and a bit more bold when your brothers aren't around to tease you

They're a piece of work lol when can I see you again?

I'm at the four seasons room 311

Matt stared at his phone in shock. He never would have expected you to just give him the information for your hotel room. He quietly snuck out of his bedroom, not wanting to have to deal with telling Nick and Chris that he was going to see you.

You quickly freshened up, enough to look cute but not too much that you looked desperate. About 15 minutes later there was a knock at your hotel room door. Matt's face greeted you as you opened it. He was leaning against the wall with a slight smirk. You could already tell that he was a different Matt than you'd met earlier. "Hey, pretty girl," he spoke smoothly.

A slight blush crept your cheeks as you moved aside to let him in. You took in his all black outfit, noting how nice it looked on him. "Hi Matt," you smiled. Matt looked around, taking in the fancy hotel suite you were in.

"Nice place you got here. All of your tour stops this fancy?" he asked sitting down on the sofa.

You laughed a bit, "I try and make them feel like home a bit. Traveling so much can be exhausting and it's nice to come back to a hotel room that has all that I need in it." Shuffling through the mini fridge, you pulled out some wine. "You want some?" He nodded leading you to pour two glasses. You took a spot next to him on the sofa, not leaving much room between you, but enough for it to not be awkward. "So, tell me about you. What do I need to know about Matt Sturniolo?" you asked.

He took a sip of the wine before turning fully to face you, "Well, as you know I'm a triplet. I'm the middle one. We've been doing YouTube since-"

You cut him off shaking your head. "I don't want to know about your brothers. Tell me about you." This caused Matt's head to spin. He wasn't used to people only wanting to learn about him. People always loved Chris for his looks and Nick for his humor, but sometimes Matt felt swept under the rug. ((I'm crying writing this))

A smile on his face, he took a different approach, "Okay well, I really like nature. I feel so at peace when I'm outside. I also used to be really into reading. Fell outta that for a while, but I'm starting to pick it up again." The two of you chatted getting to know each other and finishing the bottle of wine quicker than either of you had planned.

It had been an hour of just drinking and talking and before you knew it your legs were draped over his lap, hands in his hair. He had his lips attached to yours as he held your hips. You weren't quite sure how you got there, but you weren't complaining. Matt pulled away slightly, earning a whine from you. Both of you breathing heavily, he leaned his forehead against yours. "You sure about this, miss popstar?" he said, teasing you slightly. You giggled and nodded, placing your lips on his neck. He groaned, tilting his head back to give you more access. You trailed down his jawline, then his neck, and to his collarbone leaving bites and kisses in your path. A flash of pink covered your eyes as Matt tugged your shirt off over your head and tossed it to meet his on the floor. He picked you up and tossed you onto the bed. Something caught your eye, peeking out of his back pocket. Something pink. With fur? Oh my god.

A chuckle escaped your lips as you tugged the fuzzy pink handcuffs you had gifted him at the concert out of his back pocket. "I see you wanted to break in your gift," you smirked, twirling them on your finger. He chuckled snatching them from you and tossing them to the side.

"Don't worry, pretty girl, they'll get used soon," he winked. His pants hit the floor and your eyes trailed down his body. Before you knew it, you found yourself on your knees in front of him. "Such a good girl. Didn't even have to tell you," he smirked. You were practically drooling at the sight of him. Your hand wrapped around his length causing him to hiss slightly. As your lips enclosed around his tip, his hand found home in your hair. Your tongue swirled around him slowly before you closed the distance between your lips and his groin. He groaned loudly as you took him in deeper. Impulsively, his hand pushed your head further, causing a choking noise to leave you. "Shhh, you got it, princess. Doin' - ah - doing so well," he moaned as your head bobbed. As you moved your head back and forth, your hand covered what didn't fit in your mouth. It did not take long for Matt's hand to coerce you a bit more forcefully as you noticed his body tense up. "Oh fuck, keep goin," he moaned. A few more pumps later you felt his load shoot into your mouth as he groaned loudly, squeezing his eyes shut. You pulled off of him with a slight 'pop' and sat with a satisfied grin on your face. He let out a deep breath before looking down at you.

Next thing you knew, your back hit the mattress and Matt hovered over you. "Better wipe that smirk off that pretty little face," he chuckled. To your right you heard the sound of metal clinking. Matt's hand gathered your small wrist and cuffed you to the bed. You looked up at the handcuffs and back at him whimpering slightly. Your arms wiggled causing the metal to clank against the headboard. "What? Can't handle what you dish out?" he smirked and trailed kisses down your torso. When he reached your underwear, his eyes met yours again for approval. As you nodded, he discarded your thong onto the floor. Your hips twitched in anticipation as you felt his breath on your core. The wide grin on his face was undeniable as he watched you already writhing beneath him. "So sensitive," he chuckled tracing circles on your thigh, "barely even touched you yet."

"Matty, please," you whined. He ended your suffering licking a stripe up your folds. Your hips lifted at the contact and you gasped loudly. He quickly shoved your hips back down to the bed and held them there with his hands, probably leaving bruises that would show tomorrow. Matt explored you with his tongue, taking note on what made your legs shake. As his tongue circled your clit, he felt your hips try to raise against his hands. "Oh! Matt fuck" you moaned loudly. He smiled against you knowing he figured out your weakness. He continued to work your bundle of nerves until you were a writhing, moaning mess underneath him. The noise of the handcuffs fighting the headboard earned a laugh from Matt's mouth that vibrated against you. Your body tensed as your climax built up. He slipped a finger into you, thrusting quickly as his tongue danced against your clit. You felt pleasure take over your body. "Matt - my god! Don't stop!" you cried out. He continued to ride out your orgasm until your body relaxed and you panted against the bed. He carefully removed his fingers from you and crawled up to meet your eyes. Your lips wrapped around his fingers, tasting yourself as you licked them clean. He removed his fingers from your mouth and unlocked the handcuffs.

A soft kiss landed on your forehead as he pulled his t shirt over your head. You smiled climbing under the covers. Pulling his boxers back on before he climbed into bed with you. The night was spent wrapped in each others' arms.

The morning light showed through the curtains as you woke. After cuddling up to Matt for a few more minutes, you reached for your phone. Your eyes widened as you saw messages from your manager. Attached was an article titled, "YouTube Triplet Seen at Pop Star's Hotel." You knew this was not going to end well with your publicity team but, boy, was it worth it.

[i-cant-sing]

Time Traveller AU part 10

Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here. Part 3 is here. Part 4 is here. Part 5 is here. Part 6 is here. Part 7 is here. Part 8 is here. Part 9 is here. Time Traveller au masterlist is here. Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

Part 11 is here!

You dont know why you're crying.

No.

You do know why you're crying. You dont understand why you're crying for that reason.

You've been sitting out on the balcony after Mehmed confessed to you, crying like a child who'd been yelled at by their favourite teacher- quietly and shamefully.

"Y/n?" You quickly wipe your tears away as you hear him.

Ibrahim tilts his head as he walks in front of you, his concern growing as he sees your teary eyes on your veiled face. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

You sniffle, shaking your head.

"Then?" He notices your mismatched niqaab, the red color reminding him of the torn shirt of Mehmed he saw earlier. "Did something happen with Mehmed?"

You freeze, then nod.

He takes a deep breath before sitting beside you, keeping a respectable distance between you two.

"I know you might be thinking that he's a prince so he wont get in trouble for what he did, but I'm the grand vizir and the sultan's closest friend." He looks at you. "I can help you if you tell me what he did to make you cry."

"I... I am not crying because of Mehmed." You pause. "Mehmed confessed his love for me."

"And you're overwhelmed? Or do you not want his love?" Ibrahim asked cautiously.

"Of course I dont want his love, its just- it reminded me of someone." You close your eyes and immediately those blue orbs flash to your mind. "Someone from... the past."

"Did you love him?" Your eyes snapped open.

"What?"

"This person you talk of... did you love him?" Ibrahim asked.

"I..." Did you? Did you really love him? Even after what he did to you, did you still love him?

"I used to." You sniffled. "You dont love him anymore? Then why are you crying?"

Yeah. Why am I crying if I dont love him anymore?

"I guess... I just miss him. And the memories we made, the way he made me feel." You whisper.

Ibrahim looked ahead at the dark sky, clear and filled with stars. "Go to him then."

You shake your head, frowning. "I cant." You wipe the tears from your eyes. "Pasha, how do I... how do I stop Mehmed? I cant, I cant be with him. In any capacity."

"I'm working on finding a way out for you, Y/n. I promised I'd keep you safe, didnt I?" Ibrahim's determined face put you at ease somewhat.

"Just tell me."

"In due time." He looked back at the sky. "The weather is nice tonight, not humid like yesterday."

You follow his gaze to the sky. "It rained earlier." You take a deep breath, trying to inhale the sweet earthy smell of rain.

There's a word for it. Petrichor.

You looked at the man beside you when you felt movement. Ibrahim had removed his turban and loosened the collar of his kaftan. He ran a hand through his thick hair with his eyes closed as a breeze of air passed, and you saw his shoulders relax.

The wind blew your niqaab as well, lifting it just long enough for you to smell the cool air.

"You should feel air as well." He said with his eyes closed. "It'll relax your mind."

He was referring to your veil and hijab. "You have the privilege to do that. Dont show off." You smiled.

He opened his eyes and stared at you. "I'm all relaxed now. You can enjoy the privilege now." He wore his turban back and fixed his collar. "Go ahead. I'll keep a look out." He stood up before smiling down at you with... warmth. Kindness.

"Enjoy these moments when you can, Y/n. They're rare."

You watched Ibrahim walk away and true to his word, he turned away from you and kept guard while you cautiously removed your niqaab first, and then loosened your headscarf.

You closed your eyes as the cool air hit you gently. You couldnt help the sigh that escaped you when you felt it on your neck, cooling it. And how long had it been since you felt the air breeze in your hair?

Too long.

After a few more moments in silence, you finally stood up after wearing your hijab and veil and turned to him.

Ibrahim turned around when he felt your presence behind him.

"Feeling better?" You nod. "Significantly. Thank you, pasha."

He gave you a courteous smile with a slight bow of his head.

Ibrahim escorted you back to your room and bid you good night before returning to the balcony.

He sat down on the same bench as the cold wind breezed, and he closed his eyes, your face haunting his mind.

When he opened his eyes, he saw the dark clouds in the sky. A few moments later, it began raining again.

Ibrahim raised his hands to make a prayer, after all- it is said in hadith that supplication made during rain is not rejected.

With sincere intention, he made a silent prayer in his heart.

"Oh Allah, make space in Y/n's heart for me.

I would like to reside eternally in my home country.

Amen."

-

The next two weeks went by... not uneventful. You tried your best to avoid the royals, but with Mihirmah bringing in Mehmed everytime you came to teach her, and Mustafa bringing you more broaches (which Mihirmah took from you everytime) because he thought they suited you (you're pretty sure this is his way of staking his claim on you, there's no way he doesnt know Mihirmah is the one taking them when she openly flaunts them in his face.)

Baris has been as annoying as ever, pestering you for gossip and to tell him "which prince you like more so that he can win the bets".

"So what exactly did you say when sehzade Mehmed said "I love you?" Baris asked as he looked through your closet.

You were looking out the window. "Thank you."

"Thank you? You said "thank you?" God, how dumb are you?" He shook his head while you smiled, looking outside but your mind was somewhere else, somewhere behind in time.

"I love you." He repeated, eyes still twinkling at how you continued to become flustered.

You opened your mouth and then closed it like an idiot, not knowing how to reply.

"Thank you." You finally said, looking anywhere but at him. He burst into a fit of laughter. "Oh god- I tell you- I love you and you say "thank you"? You really are something out of this world!" Baldwin teased you, making you huff.

"Y/n!" Your head whipped around the annoyed eunuch. "What?"

"We have to go to the harem." "Harem? Whatever for?"

"To make you learn a sensual dance for the princes- what do you think?! Its Friday! The sultan and sehzade have gone to the mosque for the Friday prayer- they'll be coming back soon and we have to welcome them." You scowled but followed him outside before halting.

"Both of the sehzade are gone?" Baris nodded.

Oh good. "Baris, you go ahead. I'll join you later." You turned around to leave but he grabbed your forearm.

"Absolutely not! Where are you going? What are you upto?" He gave you a pointed look.

You tried to pull your arm away. "Baris please-"

"No." He tightened his grip. "You might as well tell me because I'm not letting you go alone."

Your shoulders slumped.

"I have to find something." He raised a brow. "Do you remember that room where you found me and sehzade Mustafa? The one where his loot from his last conquest was present?" He nodded.

"Well, I need to go there again." "Why, exactly?" You resisted the urge to inhale as you told him your excuse.

"Because... I have to look for a present for Mustafa."

"What?" His grip on your arm loosened.

You shrugged. "You were right. I like Mustafa and if I plan on marrying him one day, I need to find something to impress him. So if I were to look at his loot, perhaps I'd be able to find what he likes."

Baris studied your face for a few moments before grinning. "I knew you were a just keeping this pious woman charade for personal gain." You frowned at his statement. "Fine. But I'm coming along."

"No, you dont need-"

"I wasnt asking." He began walking ahead of you. "Besides, the loot was moved from that room."

You followed behind him. "Moved where?"

The corner of his lips quirked up. "To sehzade Mustafa's room." He turned to look at your drained expression, and waved you off. "Its fine. I'm with you, arent I? The guards will let us pass through and everyone in the family is busy getting ready to welcome the sultan. No one will catch us."

True to his word, none of the guards or servants stopped you two from entering the Mustafa's wing of the palace. They all seemed to either respect Baris a lot to let you two breeze past them, or they feared him. And knowing Baris and his knowing eyes that probably have dirt on everyone, you knew the latter was true.

"Baris." You stopped him from following you inside Mustafa's room. "You stand here and keep watch. I'll go check."

"Keep watch? What are you- trying to steal his undergarments-" You slapped a hand on his mouth. "Do you ever shut up?" You snapped at his amused eyes. "Stand here and keep watch." You ordered before entering the room.

It was true that you did indeed need Baris to keep a look out for anyone walking in on you, as it has happened way too many times now, but you also needed him out of sight when you got rid of the stupid portrait.

Ah yes, your portrait that Baldwin had so lovingly commissioned and had managed to survive over 400 years and you needed to get rid of before it became a part of history permanently.

You looked around his large room, spotting a cloth covered pile in the corner. You marched to it and lifted the pile, recognising the loot. However, you didnt find your portrait in it.

Where is it?

You turned around to leave, only to freeze at the sight of the person standing there.

Mahidevran sultana.

All the other times you'd been caught, by Suleiman, by Mustafa- you always dropped your head into a courtesy. But now, with Mahidevran standing there with no expression on her face yet the daunting aura coming off her in waves- it had you frozen in spot.

You opened your mouth. Then closed it.

What do you say when you're caught red handed in a prince's chambers?

Mahidevran took a deep breath.

"Have you stolen it?"

You blinked.

"S-sultana?" Stolen what?

She raised an eyebrow, clasping her hands as she continued to put you under her sharp gaze.

"Have you stolen what you came for? What exactly were you looking for? Mustafa's gold? His jewels?" She tilted her head. "Dont try to deny that you didnt come here for nothing-"

"I did." Your throat went dry as her eyes narrowed. "I did come here for something. But I'm not stealing anything. I... am trying to earn it."

"And what exactly would be that?"

"Sehzade Mustafa's respect." God, where do I come up with such bull-

It was Mahidevran's turn to blink. Earn Mustafa's respect?

"I... dont know if I love the sehzade, but I do admire him. A lot. He has been very kind to me, very civil to me and... he's gifted me a lot. Not just with his expensive jewels, but also with his company. I just thought- I just wanted to return the favour. And I came here to learn more about him- to find out about his likes and dislikes."

At the end of your explanation, a small smile formed on Mahidevran lips.

"Then you should've just come to me." She walked upto you, her eyes much gentler than the hostility they held just moments ago. "Who would know him better than his own mother?"

You could only offer her a courteous smile and nod in agreement.

"Come now. I will teach you everything there is to know about Mustafa. I know him better than I know myself." She beckoned you to follow her, her heart beaming with pride at you finally making a real effort to pursue her son. Soon everything will fall into place, Mustafa will marry you and you'll give him his heirs and Suleiman will make him the next sultan and then finally, Mustafa will kill his brothers and Hurrem's reign will end.

As you walked out of his chambers, you saw Baris smirking and you knew instantly he didnt alert you about Mahidevran's arrival on purpose. He set you up. Just like Isabella, he will betray you every chance he gets.

But... where did the portrait go?

-

"Would you like to go out today?" Mustafa had decided to take you out of the palace, after Mahidevran told him to spend more time with you. He knew taking you out would make you happy, at least you dont seem to be so tense with him. With his father's permission, who was more than happy to accompany Mustafa to his province- Manisa for a few days. After all, you did deserve a short break from teaching his little sister.

And with Mehmet gone on a conquest, it was hard for Mihirmah alone to stop either of you from leaving and spending time together.

You happily agreed, at least this would give you more freedom to explore escape routes and fix your time machine?

Once again in disguises, Mustafa gave you a small tour of his province and you had to admit, he did a fantastic job managing Manisa all by himself. You definitely saw his administrative skills, how he improved the economy and even prepared the province for any future disasters.

After handling some official matters, Mustafa was surprised to see you waiting for him at the stables.

"Would you like to go hunting?" You asked, brushing the horses's mane.

Hunting? As a woman?

"You know how to hunt?"

"No."

"Then...?"

"I may not know how to hunt, but you do. So... shall we?" You asked patting the horse.

Mustafa helped you up on the horse. "Are you sure? Its not season yet, so it'll be hard to find any animals to hunt."

"Who said anything about animals?" You chuckle before galloping away.

It took him a few moments to shake out of the shock to understand your challenge. And then he mounted his horse and sped off after you.

Mustafa had never chased after anyone, much less a woman, but he had to admit- this was fun. And more than that, he was actually surprised at how good you were at riding. Your head leaned down into a straight line with your back, your calculated decisions when to stand and when to sit, you were far ahead of him. And he understood it wasnt your first time on a horse either.

Fortunately for you, you had both practical knowledge of physics and streamlining, as well as hours- DAYS of horseback riding from your time in Jerusalem. Just about four centuries ago?

However, Mustafa was still more skilled in horse riding and after finally catching upto you, he all but brought you to a halt when he blocked your path.

You both stared at each other, heaving and trying to catch your breath before breaking out into a laughter.

Thats how the two spent most of your time, riding and hunting small animals, Mustafa being in his element when he taught you archery, holding you close yet not uncomfortably, as he helped you aim bullseye. And somehow, you would soon hit the bullseye in his heart.

"And then, Qasim took the blame for me!" Mustafa laughed as you told him about your shenanigans from your childhood. You two were having dinner and after spending so much time together, making conversation had become so much easier.

"He took care of you, didnt he?" You nodded, smiling fondly at the mention of Qasim.

"As all elder brothers do, he was the best." Noticing the sadness in your eyes, Mustafa carefully asked you.

"So, you have no family left?" You shake your head. "No, they were all killed by some bad people. I only narrowly escaped them and found refuge with my grandparents before... before the Janissaries came and took me from them. And... here I am now."

Mustafa's heart wrench slightly. He knows the importance of family.

"I could take you to see them." He offered, but his expression turned puzzled when you turned him down.

"I appreciate that but... no. I cant meet them again, it'll be too much for them. The wound is still fresh, Mustafa. And if they were to see me again only to be taken away from them, accompanied by the Janissaries- they wouldnt recover. I wont hurt them again." You whispered the last part, looking off into the distance as you remembered the old couple who helped you.

"Maybe... maybe when we return home, we can go to the market again. Maybe I'll see them there, just from a distance?" Mustafa nodded at your request. How could he say no to such an innocent ask?

"How do you like Manisa?" Mustafa changed the subject.

You nodded in approval. "I had heard about how well you've done here, but when I saw the city... I must say I am very impressed, sehzade."

"You sound surprised. Did you not think I would be a good governor?" He teased as he poured you some tea. You chuckled.

"I am not surprised. I am proud." He froze. "It definitely takes a lot to run a province properly, especially when you have a lot of pressure on you, not just from the sultan but from the very people you're responsible for. And while you have managed the finances as well as put a stop to all revolts, crushed the rebels- all amazing feats, but what really stands out for me is that you've earned the love."

"Love?" "Mmhm. Its very easy to be in a position of power and make people fear you. But its much harder to have their love. And... I'm very pleased to tell you that I have not heard one word, not a single person who had anything except praises for sehzade Mustafa."

"I am very proud of you, Mustafa." You stated, your eyes smiling from your veil.

Mustafa felt as if time had stopped.

I am very proud of you, Mustafa.

Those words, that praise... isnt that what he's yearned for all his life? Sure, Mahidevran may have said those words to him many times, but she's his mother. She always sings his praises.

I am very proud of you, Mustafa.

His father has never said it to him, but he's heard Suleiman say it to Mehmed.

With his younger brother, Mehmed, Mustafa understands that Suleiman may love him just a bit more than him. Truly, Mustafa loves Mehmed too. Its natural for him to feel affection for his younger brother.

But... doesnt he deserve to be praised by his father too? Doesnt he have the right to get a pat on his shoulder for a job well done? Or is it just "his duty as a prince" everytime he works hard? Or is it that no matter what he does, how well he does it, he'll never earn Suleiman's priority over Mehmed because his father loves Hurrem more than Mahidevran? Because of his mother? Still, she is his first wife. And still, he is Suleiman's first born. Doesnt he ever deserve to even delude himself that he has a chance at being the next sultan? At being chosen?

"Mustafa?" Your soft voice breaks him out of his trance.

"Sorry, you were saying?" He tried to smile, his mind still plagued by his previous thoughts.

You point at the box you had place in front of him. "I got you a small present, for all the times I um- lost your brooches." You coughed and he chuckled, shaking his head.

"I know Mihirmah was the one taking them from you. You dont have to lie to me, Y/n." Amusement twinkled in his eyes as he picked up your box.

You smiled sheepishly. Hey, you're glad that he isnt mad at you for that spoilt brat stealing his gifts off you.

Upon opening the box, Mustafa's grin widened as a small chuckle escaped him.

Its a small crocheted rose, a pin dangling for him to attach it to his collar.

"I know its useless next to your precious jewelled brooches and even though your mom was more than happy to give me some jewels, I wanted to give you something different. You dont have to wear it-"

"Will you place it on me?" Mustafa cut you off. You nodded as you moved closer to him and took the rose from him. "Where should I put it? Turban? Collar? Chest?"

"Wherever it'll be the most prominent." He smiled gently. You leaned closer as you carefully pinned the rose to his chest.

Mustafa held his breath as he stared at your focused eyes, and he doesnt remember the last time he was so attentive to studying someones eyes. He never realised how long your lashes were, or the crease in your eyelid, or the different shades in your eye, or the way his heart skipped a beat when you looked up at him, or the way his heart warmed when your pupils dilated and he was ready to give you the world if you asked for it.

"Perfect." He whispered as you finished placing the rose on him, but his eyes never left yours.

He finally broke out of the trance when you moved away, averting your eyes and he figured he must've been too obvious.

"Thank you." He cleared his throat before looking down at his rose. "How did you learn to... embroidery?" He changed the subject once more.

"This isnt embroidery. Its crochet." You explain to him that you learned it from your mother, which is true. Your mother, who despite having a degree in STEM, had to work as a seamstress when she moved back to your hometown to make ends meet. Only thing you left out was that your mother hated crocheting, and she only did it when she was mad, so anytime you spotted a crocheted sweater or scarf or anything, you knew your mom was having a bad day. It was ironic at how something so cute could come out of such a negative emotion, but perhaps thats what she was trying to teach you. She wanted you to channel out your negative energy into something beautiful and to be honest, crocheting did relax you because of how long it took and how repetitive it was. By the time you were done crocheting, you had processed your emotions and kept yourself in check AND now had an adorable, soft product to play with.

(Deep down you knew she was worried from how many times you had decided to use your brain to come up with elaborate pranks to get back at people. So, as mom would say- "crochet your anger away, Y/n.")

Mustafa smiled at your memories.

"I would like to give you something as well, Y/n. Ask for anything." You tried to refuse but upon his insistence, you finally sighed exaggeratively, as if this wasnt exactly what you wanted.

"Do you remember that portrait? The one in your loot when we first met?"

Mustafa nodded. "I do. But unfortunately, I had given it away to a Roman diplomat as goodwill." He watched your shoulders drop.

"Ask me for something else." He offered again but you waved him off, saying you dont want anything else at the moment.

By the time you two left Manisa, Mustafa had decided that he was going to marry you.

He likes you, he doesnt know if you love him but he does know for sure that you respect. And he respects you.

Respect. Isnt it more important than love? Not all relationships, not all marriages are out of love, Mustafa knows that. But any good marriage can only work if both parties respect each other, if they trust each other.

His father loves Mahidevran, some part of him still does love her despite marrying Hurrem. And he's sure that a small part of him loved every concubine his father slept with, but... not everyone had his respect.

No, Suleiman only loved AND respected Hurrem. He loved Mahidevran, but he didnt respect her. If he did, he wouldnt have humiliated her by marrying Hurrem, a slave, He wouldnt have humiliated her by having five kids with the same woman while neglecting his mother. He wouldnt have humiliated Mustafa by favouring Mehmed over him at every chance.

Mustafa doesnt have Suleiman's respect.

But he has yours. And his mother's. And of the people of Manisa. And that is enough for him.

Thumbing the crocheted rose, he could only hope you dont mind that he lied to you about the portrait. Its in his chambers, here in Manisa. For him to stare at, to clear his mind as he peered into those eyes above the paint smudges, that looked eerily similar to yours.

-

On returning to Constantinople (present day known as Istanbul), Mustafa had allowed you two first stop at the market as per your request of buying some souvenirs for the family, but he knew that was just an excuse for you to see your grandfather.

He watched you spot the old man in the market as you stood by the blacksmith, buying a dagger for Mihirmah despite your eyes being trained on the sad man who was busy buying vegetables. You two were still in disguises, with the guards undercover as well, when there was a commotion.

Your grandfather was being harassed by the same merchant who had given him money and Mustafa would like to think that he interfered because it was his duty as a Muslim and as a sehzade to stop evil, but deep down, he knows he only stepped in to impress you.

Mustafa and a couple of the Janissaries, all disguised as civilians, walked upto the merchant and pushed him off the old man. Before the merchant could start heckling, Mustafa threw a pouch of gold coins and told him that the debt is paid. Period.

He didnt have to say out loud the outcome if he bothered your old man again.

By the time Mustafa returned by your side, standing tall as you looked at him gratefully.

I am proud of you, Mustafa.

"Thank you." You tell him, and Mustafa's heart soars at your validation.

You respect him.

Mustafa looked to the side, the tip of his ears turning pink. "Did you get a present for Mihirmah?"

You nodded, showing him the dagger you bought (with the money Suleiman had been paying you for teaching). He approved it, and you two returned to Topkapi palace, not knowing about the shit storm that was about to come.

-

Mehmet watched from the balcony as you returned to the palace with Mustafa beside you, laughing openly as his elder brother looked at you in a way that he never wanted anyone besides him to look at you.

Mustafa would've liked to walked you to your room but after he was called by his mother, you assured him you'll make it to your room just fine.

What you werent expecting was to find Mehmed standing in the hallway, waiting for you to be alone. He wasnt supposed to return so early from his province, but after Mihirmah wrote to him about you fleeing away with Mustafa to Manisa, he wrapped up his work there and came home straight away. He thought he made it clear what his intentions were with you, but it seems like sweet talking didnt make a dent on you.

"Sehzade-" You stopped your greeting when you saw him march towards you, and you involuntarily took a step back. His body language was not friendly at the moment.

"What were you doing with Mustafa?" He seethed, his arms behind his back as if holding himself back from lashing out.

"I- I went out to get a present for Mihirmah-" You began showing him the dagger but he cut you off.

"Why?"

"Why?" You didnt understand his question. "Why what? I was away in Manisa-"

"Why?"

You frowned this time. What was he asking?

"Because sehzade Mustafa invited me-"

"Why?"

You couldnt help but glare at him annoyed. Why what?

"Because I wanted to get out of the palace-"

"Why?"

"What do you want me to say?" You finally asked. Mehmet glare intensified at your question. "You're clearly accusing me of something, so say it."

"Why did you leave the palace?"

"I told you, I went to Manisa on sehzade's invitation." You paused, trying to piece together the reason for his behaviour. Jealousy? "I couldnt have turned sehzade Mustafa's invitation, it wouldve been rude-"

"This isnt about Mustafa!" He snapped. "You shouldnt have left the palace in the first place!"

"And why not? I'm not a slave who is bound to these walls." You reminded him gently, but his patience seemed to have worn thin.

"And neither is my mother, nor Mihirmah but they still stay here, only leaving when the sultan takes them along."

You looked at him in confusion. What was he getting at?

Mehmed seemed to get even more angry at your bewilderment. "There's a reason women stay in their homes. Its not safe for them out there."

"I appreciate your concern, but I doubt anyone would want to hurt me. I am not a princess or a part of royalty. My status is far too low for anyone to even bat an eye my way-"

He laughed humourlessly. "Status? You think I'm talking about protecting you from enemies of the empire?" Mehmed neared you as you took another step back. "You're in danger from the world. You're in danger from those very men that see you everytime you walk out of these palace walls. You're a walking temptation for these men and their disgusting, vile thoughts."

You blinked at him. Is he- did he just say you tempt men?

"How can I tempt men when I'm covered from head to toe?" You point at your niqaab and your chaddar.

"YOU'RE A WOMAN! THAT ALONE IS TEMPTATION ENOUGH FOR LINGERING EYES!" He yelled as an angry vein pops up in his temple. "It doesnt matter that not an inch of your skin is visible, but the moment these men know that you're a woman, you're meat for them. You attract their attention when you leave the palace walls, you attract their eyes when they see your feminine shadow, you attract their ears when they hear your soft voice, you attract their nose when you pass by them with your sweet scent. Even if they cant see your face, your existence alone is enough to plague their minds!" He points at your niqaab. "This veil that you seem so proud of? That you think protects you from male gaze? It only makes men to want to rip it off you more!"

You're staring at him in utter disbelief. Aint no way- no way this man is accusing you of tempting men, all while insulting your niqaab.

"I dont know what men you're talking about, but you're wrong if you think I'm using my veil, my covered body to invite men to stare at me." Your tone barely suppresses your anger. "I am surprised to hear you say such things. How can you pass such comments when your own mother and sister are-"

"I can pass such comments because my mother and sister stay within the damn palace! They dont go around sauntering like you, provoking men!" He yelled, his arms no longer behind his back, hands balled up into fists.

"Do you hear yourself? You're not making any sense-"

"I AM THE NEXT SULTAN! I AM UNDER NO OBLIGATION TO MAKE SENSE TO YOU!" He spat.

"How can I provoke men when my face is covered?!" You snapped back, reaching your wits.

Hearing your voice get loud, Mehmed's fury reached new levels as he backed you upto the wall, your eyes wide as he closed the distance between you. "You think you're safe?" He whispered harshly, his eyes boring holes into you. His hand reached up and grabbed your niqaab, threatening to yank it off you. "You think this piece of cloth can protect you? What can you- what can you possibly do if I were to rip this off you? Do you think you can stop me from making your worst nightmares come to life?"

Mehmed did not relish the fear in your eyes, nor did he enjoy the tear that escaped them. But like a child who needs admonishing to keep them from harms way, he found it necessary to reprimand you.

"Dont leave the palace again, Y/n." He said, his tone softening but still stern. "I dont want anyone, man or woman to see you. I dont trust anyone around you. Understand?" He patted your cheek to make you nod, and he finally backed away and left you alone in the hall.

Well, you're never truly alone in the palace. Especially when you have enemies. And who is your enemy, Y/n?

Everyone who is envious.

-

Word of your heated moment reached Mahidevran through the servants whispers, about how close you and Mehmed were, how he had pushed you upto the wall, a raunchy scene for anyone to walk in on, how Mehmed had lifted up your veil and traced your skin.

And of course, Mahidevran is inclined to believe these spicy rumors. She's experienced first hand what power hungry women can do when they put their mind to it. And her blood boils at how you're playing both princes, as if Mehmed could ever compete with her precious Mustafa!

Mahidevran all but screams at the maids to bring you to her, her hands shaking at the thought of you cheating on Mustafa- that too just moments earlier Mustafa was telling her how much he liked you and was ready to marry you.

You. You're ruining the plan. The plan to have Mustafa become the next sultan. Because- because you've been put to it by Hurrem, havent you? Isnt that why you're trying to make her son go after you while you pursue Mehmed? You want Mustafa to lose- you want Mahidevran to lose!

When you enter her chambers, Mahidevran all but sees red at the sight of you. You'r thrown to the ground and it doesnt register at first the hard smack she delivered to your face. But as soon as you look up at her, she lunges at you and continues to slap you over and over again, hurling curses at you, calling you all sorts of derogatory names, all while you try to save your face from her assaults because even if you could fight back, you couldnt hurt a sultan's wife.

"HOW CAN YOU CHEAT ON MY MUSTAFA?! MY LION! YOU FUCKING WHORE-!" She shrieked as she continued to slap you, her nails embedding into your skin and scratching it. Your face had gone numb from her slaps, and you couldnt verbalise a response even if you tried, her hands cutting you off everytime you tried to speak, leaving you to just cry and scream.

The guards and servants heard both your cries and Mahidevrans screams, but they didnt dare interfere. How could they? The sultana could easily have their heads chopped off for interrupting her punishment.

Mahidevran's own hands had gone numb from her thrashing, but her anger overtook any sense of self preservation as she continued to beat you to a pulp. Neither of you knows how long it had been until she was pulled off you.

"Mahidevran!" You watched bleary eyed as a red head came into the view. "Have you lost your mind?!" She admonished the queen.

Hurrem turned to look at you, grimacing at your bloodied face.

"Baris." She nodded at him to help you.

Baris immediately picked you up in his arms and carried you out of there.

You watched through tired eyes at Baris's concerned face as he looked down at you.

"Shit- sorry for taking so long to save you." He whispered, watching you slip in and out of consciousness.

You dont remember how, but the next moment you opened your eyes, you were in Hurrem's chambers with Baris tending to your wounds and Hurrem sitting on the ottoman watching you with a steady gaze.

You wince as Baris placed ointment on your busted lip.

"Careful, Baris." Hurrem warned, standing up and walking upto you. "She looks worse enough as it is. We dont need her falling unconscious in front of the sultan because you treated her injuries too harshly. He'll have your head chopped off." She joked though neither you nor Baris laughed; after all her words did hold some truth.

Wait- sultan?

"S-sultan?" You croaked, and Baris quickly helped you drink some water. "Why- why is the sultan coming?"

Hurrem looked at you in confusion. "Why? So that Suleiman could see what Mahideravn did to you and finally get rid of her. After all, Suleiman did warn anyone to not harm you. So, we can finally get rid of that thorn for once and for all." She sighed dreamily before looking at you. "All you have to do is cry in front of him and tell him how cruel Mahidevran is-"

"N-no." Baris's hand that was tending to you scratched cheek halted at your interruption.

"Excuse me?" Hurrem's sharp tone sent shivers down your spine.

"No. I wont say Mahidevran did this to me." In actual history, Mahidevran despite being exiled, outlives Suleiman, Hurrem and all their children. If you were to confess to what Mahidevran did, it would run the risk of Suleiman punishing her to the dungeons or worse, either way putting her life at risk and ruining the timeline.

"But she did do this to you." Hurrem stated, frowning at your attempt at denial. Or was it defense? "Ah, is it because you love Mustafa? You dont want to put his mother in trouble?"

"No. Mahidevran may have hurt me, but sehzade Mehmed was the reason. Your son did this and if you force me to confess, then that is what I will say- Mehmed did this to me." You replied, voice unwavering despite your heart beating loudly against your chest.

"Are you threatening me?" Hurrem glared at your audacity. Baris could sense the impending doom, and he feared you were at the receiving end of it this time.

"No." You swallowed. "I am merely stating at how this will play out. I suggest you dont have the sultan come and see me, better yet- throw me out of this palace altogether."

Hurrem stared at your bruised face and then she saw the determination in your eyes. She shot a look to Baris that had him scurrying you out of the room to give you two privacy.

"Even if you dont rat out Mahidevran, I can."

"You could. And then I will tell the sultan that it didnt happen, and you'll end up looking like a jealous second wife pinning the blame on the first wife." You tell her, watching as her face turned red with fury. "You could always let me go."

"Let you go? Why should I help you leave? And dont try to use Mehmed's behaviour with you as an excuse."

"Behaviour? He ordered me that I dont leave the palace walls ever because he thinks that I seem to invite men to leer at me." You tattled on him. "It may seem hard to believe sultana, but I dont wish to marry any of the princes, nor do I wish to stay within this palace. You know that the only reason I'm still here is because I couldnt say no to the sultan. But if you were to help me escape-"

You were silenced as Mahidevran burst through the door, her eyes zeroing in on Hurrem standing next to you.

"You-! You set me up! Both of you!" She shrieked as she stomped over to you two but Baris walked in with Mustafa, Mehmed and Mihirmah, all looking at the state of your injured face. They all stared at you, but it was Mehmed's eyes that pricked you and you quickly grabbed your veil, tying it around your face to cover it.

Mihirmah rushed to your side, grabbing you by the shoulders. "Y/n! Who did this to you?!"

You didnt bother looking at Hurrem or Mahidevran when you replied.

"I dont know."

Mihirmah's brows knitted together. "You... dont know? It was a blind attack? Did you not see who was attacking you? Or did you just not recognise the attacker?"

You took a deep breath.

"I dont know."

Mehmed stepped forward, eyes narrowing at your answer. "What do you mean-"

He stopped talking when the doors opened again and in walked Suleiman and Ibrahim, the sultan's eyes scanning the room before falling on you.

You had stood up to bow to him and you kept your head down for as long as you could to not draw attention.

But Mihirmah had other plans in mind.

"Dad! Y/n was attacked again! So much worse this time!" She cried, clinging onto your shoulder.

Suleiman's concern grew as he looked you up and down, reading your body language: head down, shoulders tense, hands fumbling.

You were afraid.

"Y/n?" He gently called your name as you hesitantly looked up. Its hard enough to lie to sultan, but lying when you look him dead in the eyes is a whole another thing.

"Show me." He commanded, and you had no choice but to comply, as your slowly removed your veil.

Suleiman's eyes widened at the state of your face- bruised, bloodied and swollen. He walked closer, eyes watching you in disbelief. Who could have done this to you, that too in his palace?

"Who did this to you?"

You averted your eyes, lest they betrayed you. "I- I dont know."

"You didnt see them?" Suleiman was as confused as Mihirmah. "Did they attack you from behind? No- they scarred your face, they attacked you from the front. You should've seen them. Did you recognise them?"

You kept your head down. Shit. What are you supposed to say now?

"Y/n?" You looked up at him. Suleiman saw fear. "Dont be scared. Tell me- who did this to you?"

You swallowed thickly. "I dont know."

"Did you see their face?"

"I- yes." There was no point in lying about it when he already presented logic.

"Then? Who was it?"

"I dont know- I dont remember." You whispered.

Mustafa was trying to make sense of your statement when he glanced at his mother. Mahidevran was shifting on her feet nervously, clasping her hands tightly as she glared at you.

No. No, she couldnt have.

Suleiman's gaze hardened at your words. Who were you protecting? Or did you really not recognise who it was?

"Ibrahim." The vizir stepped forward. "Find out who did this to Y/n." Suleiman ordered as he stood up, turning around to leave when his eyes fell on Mahidevran, who was looking at him with a tight lipped smile.

"Are you alright, Mahidevran?" He asked his first wife, who nodded eagerly.

"Y-yes. Of course, my sultan! I'm just- I'm just worried for Y/n." Suleiman studied her for a few more moments before he turned his attention to Hurrem.

"You did right by informing me about this, Hurrem." He praised his second wife, giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze. "I trust you to take care of Y/n, hm?"

Hurrem bowed her head and feigned a smile. "Of course, Suleiman." However, the sultan spotted her smile faltering and for a second, he saw her glancing at Mahidevran before averting her gaze.

Something was wrong. Suleiman's sixth sense was keeping him unsettled.

He looked at Mahidevran again, this time more closely as he studied her from top to bottom and thats when he saw it-

Her hands hiding under her sleeves.

Suleiman walked to Mahidevran and before anyone could react, he grabbed her hands and pulled.

Mahidevran's knuckles were bruised, her nails stained with your blood, her palms red.

"You did this to her?" He asked in disbelief. His Mahidevran? He knew she was a little unhinged at times, lost control of her emotions but... was she really capable of such violence?

"Suleiman I- she-"

"You're not denying." His grip tightened around her hands. "Mahidevran, have you lost your mind?!"

"Suleiman-"

"SILENCE!" He pushed her away, eyes blown wide in rage. Mahidevran trembled at the sight. "Have you completely lost it?! Why would you do this to her?! She's just a child! What is wrong with you?!"

Mahidevran fell to her knees, begging him for forgiveness. "Suleiman, I'm sorry-"

"Sorry? You're sorry?! LOOK AT HER! LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO HER!" He pointed at your face. "Why did you do this? What could she have possibly done to you to deserve this?"

"Suleiman, I only-" She stopped. What reason could she give? She cant tell him about you cheating on Mustafa with Mehmed, nor would it do her any good to pin the blame on Hurrem now. It would only weaken her position and cause Mustafa trouble.

Mustafa. She has to do this for him, to save his throne.

She mustered up all her courage, casting her ego aside as she looked at you.

"I'm sorry, Y/n."

Your heart dropped. No. Mahidevran just admitted to her crime. Suleiman will punish her. She will die- no, no no-

"Its okay, sultana. It was an accident." Everyone was looking at you now.

"An accident?" Mihirmah asked.

You nodded. "I- I entered her chambers while she was asleep. I startled the sultana, she thought I was an intruder- that I came to attack her. The room was dark- she couldnt have recognised me- it was all an accident."

Everyone knew it was big fat lie, but then again, no one was willing to refute your claims. On what grounds? With no proof, they were all inclined to take your word, even if they didnt believe it.

Suleiman looked back at Mahidevran. "You still didnt have any right to beat her that badly. You've truly lost it, Mahidevran. If you werent Mustafa's mother, I would've-" He took a breath to calm himself down. "You cant stay here anymore. I exile you to Manisa." And with that Suleiman walked out of the room.

-

Mustafa had left your room to see off his mother. He came to you after to thank you for trying to cover for Mahidevran, despite his father still banishing her.

Then again, exile was the least painful punishment for what she did to you.

He held his mother's hands as the servants packed her belongings. He wanted to go to Manisa with her, but she refused to let him accompany her.

"You must stay here, Mustafa." She cupped his cheek. "You need to protect Y/n. All this time, I thought she was cheating on you but Hurrem set her and me up. She wanted this to happen, for me to hurt Y/n! You must stay here and protect Y/n from Hurrem and Mehmed. Do you understand?" Mahidevran's habit of blaming everyone but herself for her actions prevailed over logic as usual.

He nodded, kissing the palm of her hand. "The next time we meet, I will bring her to you as my wife."

A bright smile graced her face as she quickly took off her own ring and gave it to him.

"I will pray for you, my lion." She kissed his forehead. Mustafa smiled, pulling her in for a hug.

"Dont worry about Mehmed, hm? He wont be a hurdle." She whispered to him.

Mustafa didnt understand what she meant about Mehmed, his own mind occupied by you. He saw how angry his father was when it came to you, almost as protective as he was of Mihirmah, how quick he was to have his mother- a queen on her knees, for you. He knew his dad never respected Mahidevran, but his actions were also ruled over by his concern for you.

Mustafa now understands how dire the situation is. He now understands why his mother wanted him to marry you. You- you are the key to having the throne, the key to ruling the empire, the key to everything.

-

While Hurrem was busy "calming" Suleiman down, which in fact was really just her getting praised for being a good wife, queen and most importantly now- "a mother figure to Y/n", for how quickly she took action and saved you from Mahidevran, how she tended to your wounds and brought you to her chambers rather than "risking Mahidevran attacking you by leaving you in the infirmary", her eldest was in your room.

Baris had just helped you sit on the sofa and was tending to your wounds when Mehmed, the sehzade who had just moments ago seen Mustafa leave your room, had his blood boiling at the sight of your face uncovered as Baris applied healing balms to your wounds.

"Get out." He ordered Baris, who looked at you before leaving the room.

Mehmed sat down beside you, picking up the healing balm and was about to apply it to your skin when you turned your face away.

"I can do it myself, sehzade-"

"Mehmed." He corrected you before turning your face to him harshly. "If you can do it yourself, then why let Baris do it? Do you enjoy his touch?" His tone was accusatory and full of jealousy, and you were getting real tired of it.

"I'm sorry, I was far too disoriented to notice it was a man who was tending to my wounds." Your sarcasm made his eyes narrow at you, as he continued to apply the ointment.

"Baris is not a man, he's a eunuch." And yet he's jealous of him. "And its not about a man touching you, i dont want anyone touching my wife-to-be."

"I dont remember agreeing to a proposal-"

"Then let me refresh your memory." He cut you off. "When I said "I love you", I meant we were to be married. As for a proposal, there never was one and there never will be one because I am a sehzade, and the next sultan. You dont get to say no to me. Do I make myself clear?"

If you had the means to get out of this era, you would've slapped the egoistical, chauvinistic, toxic man in front of you.

"Yes." You replied.

Mehmed stood up, but before he left, he looked at your veil.

"If you have to remove your veil to let your injuries heal, you better make sure you're alone."

Asshole.

-

A few weeks later, you were once again standing in the harem with the rest of the royals. Today, the sultan had to leave to go on a conquest. Ibrahim was also leaving, which unnerved you because you dont want to stay in a place without the only sane person who had your back.

Sure, Baris saved you but you knew better than to trust that piece of shit because his loyalty could be easily bought. Just like how you knew Hurrem did indeed was paying him to follow you, let you get beat up, and then fetch her to be your "saviour". And you knew that the only reason Baris would help you ever again, was because he had his own agenda on being your personal servant if you were to marry one of the princes.

Suleiman and Ibrahim entered the harem, ready to receive farewell from his family.

Hurrem was the first in line, kissing his hand and then him, before Suleiman pulled her in his embrace.

"I trust you to take care of the palace in my absence." He said to her, patting her cheek affectionately.

"Of course. I pray for your victory, Suleiman. May Allah sharpen your sword and defeat the enemy." She wished him well.

Suleiman then went down the queue, hugging his sons, daughters, favourite women of the harem, and then you.

"You will be safe here, Y/n." He watched you kiss his ring before bringing his hand to your forehead. With your head bowed, he kissed your the top of your head. "When I return, I have something important I'd like to discuss with you."

Your heart dropped. Discuss something important? Like what?

"Your marriage to his son, girl!" You heard Baris's voice in the back of your head.

Ibrahim only hugged Suleiman's sons, the royal women offering him words of support and prayers. When he reached you, you gave him a quick courtesy and a small prayer, but your eyes- they screamed for help.

Ibrahim! Dont leave me!

And Ibrahim got your message, but with everyone watching, he could do nothing but nod and move on.

As soon Suleiman left with his troops, you quickly made your way to return to your chambers to hide away until they returned. After your incident with Mahidevran, you had taken some precautions from being mauled again because really- who can you trust around here?

Mihirmah would come to your room to get her lessons, which now with her father gone, you doubt she will come to get them. Fine by you really, she's still a brat who finds glee in flipping you over your back.

Mehmed was much harder to avoid, he insisted on having lunch with you (because Hurrem wanted all her kids together with her at dinner). And these lunches were quiet stiff, because Mehmed may not be threatening you or showing off his jealousy, you still havent forgotten his remarks and you didnt really talk besides giving him curt replies, which he doesnt notice because his head is so far up his-

Mustafa was the normal one among them, and while he did offer you to take you out to the market or even the gardens, you didnt. Not because you were scared of Mehmed finding out, no. It was because- well, what happened to Mahidevran. Mustafa may have come to you and thanked you for trying to cover up for her, but no matter what way you see it- his mother was thrown out of the palace because of you.

And he has to hold some grudge against you for it. No matter how much he smiles, how many gifts he gives you, you just cannot risk him taking you the gardens or the market where there are no witnesses when "someone" ambushes you.

You've used most of your time holed up in your room with your time machine because the last time you went out with Mustafa to the market, you were able to get some tools and metals from the blacksmith while Mustafa was busy saving your "grandfather".

-

Its been 2 weeks since Suleiman left. Two weeks since you've been on high alert around this mad house, two weeks since you started losing sleep from all the stress and tension of being around Mehmed and Mustafa. Sure, Ibrahim gave you a entourage of maids and guards to keep you safe before he left, but how could that put you at ease when your entourage could fall with the flick of the wrist from these royals.

You've been able to repair your time machine as much as you could, but it still hasnt worked. You dont understand what you need to do, you've even tried smashing it against the ground like the last time you transported, but no. It didnt help.

You sat on the bench on the balcony, the same one when Ibrahim was here with you. You came here to get some fresh air, and you hoped Baris doesnt run into you because you just have it in you to hear him make a comment about the bags under your eyes.

The sky was filled with dark clouds again, the wind chilly and you smiled under your veil.

It was going to rain today.

Your mind flashed back to the last time you were here with Ibrahim. Just like now, you were worried and tense then. But he was there to calm you down, to put your mind to ease.

"You should feel air as well." He said with his eyes closed. "It'll relax your mind."

You closed your eyes as his voice came to mind.

"Enjoy these moments when you can, Y/n. They're rare."

You glanced behind you, at your entourage. The guards had their back to you, looking away from you and the maids. The maids all stood behind you, giving you space. They could see your stress.

A gentle breeze hit your face, and it was enough to push you.

You quietly removed your veil, setting it beside you before loosening up your headscarf.

A sigh escaped your lips as the gentle breeze cooled your neck, your tense shoulders dropping at the earthy scent of rain. You closed your eyes, trying to imagine yourself back in your time, back when you were a child, carefree and stress-free.

Home. I want to go home.

"Y/N!" Your respite was cut short by Mehmed's angry scream, who looked at you like he'd just witnessed the greatest crime you could ever commit: sitting unveiled, with part of your hair exposed along with your neck.

"What the hell are you doing?!" You quickly grabbed your niqaab and tied it around your head as you saw storm towards you, his guards following behind him.

"Mehmed- I-"

"You what?! You were sitting here EXPOSED! With the servants to watch!" He yelled at you, grabbing your arm painfully as he yanked you from your seat. "Didnt I explicitly tell you to fucking stay covered! Do you like putting on a show for-"

"ENOUGH!" Something in you snapped. "I wont have you accuse me over and over again! I was not putting on a show, Mehmed! I was just getting some air! Do I not deserve it?! As for putting on a show- the guards had their backs turned, they werent staring at me! Only the maids were behind me, and they too werent able to see my face! Now, let go!"

Mehmed's grip on your arm only tightened, and you almost yelped in pain if you werent so busy glaring at him. "Just because you think they didnt see you face, doesnt mean its alright for you to sit naked!" He yanked you closer as he bared his teeth at you. "I told you not to to ever remove your niqaab in front of others. You disobeyed me- my command! And now you will pay the price! As will they!" He yelled at his guards to arrest you entire entourage and throw them to the dungeons.

"Mehmed, stop-" "Shut up!" He yelled as he began dragging you away and towards his own room, throwing you inside.

He stalked towards you. "Since you seem to have no sense of preservation for your modesty, I suppose I will have to help you out as your husband-to-be. You will stay here until I return and if you try to escape, I swear to God, Y/n! I will fucking break your legs!"

You watched in horror as he left the room, locking it from outside and you dont doubt he had guards outside not to let anyone in or out.

I cant stay here any longer- I cant rely on Ibrahim any longer. Mehmed has fucking lost it, and I need to get out of here right now.

You fumble out your time machine, trying to turn it on to any time period really- you cant stay here anymore.

"Fuck!" You throw it against the wall, crying into your hands out of frustration. Why the fuck wont it work? A few moments later, you finally pick it up, pocketing it back in your clothes.

Hours passes by as you sat on the floor, crying at your demise, waiting for Mehmed to return and do whatever his insane self pleases.

The room had darkened, and you suspected it was night now. You look down and find the bracelet on your hand, the one Suleiman gave you and an idea popped in your head.

Bribery.

You knocked at the door.

"Hello? Whoever is out there- please- just open the door! I'll give you my jewels! Anything you need, I'm willing to pay!" You plead for a few minutes before slamming your hands against the wood, falling to your knees as you sobbed. "Please! I'm begging you! Help me-!" You stumbled back as the doors swung open.

"Well, if this is how quickly you resort to going on your knees, I have failed as a teacher." Baris grinned at you from above.

"B-baris?" You sniffled as he helped you stand up. "What are you-"

"I'm saving your ass. Duh." He pulled you out of the room, looking out both ways before taking the path on the left. You spot two guards lying on the ground.

"How did you-" You point at the them but he drags you along.

"I'm not just a pretty face, Y/n. You seriously underestimate me." He comments, his eyes scanning for anymore people. "Now we must make haste. Otherwise, your lover boy may take a break from the dungeons to torture us instead-" He stopped talking when he looked at you.

"Torture? Baris, what did Mehmed do to them?" Your entourage was thrown into the dungeons. Baris avoided your eyes. "Baris." You insisted.

"He's having their eyes stitched up for staring at you."

You face paled. Mehmed is insane. He's fucking insane. Baris took your hand and dragged your shellshocked body.

The two of you soon made it out of the palace undetected. 4 horses and 5 women waited for you two there. You recognised them- they were from the harem.

"Baris, what are you- why are they here?" You whispered harshly. If the palace finds out there are concubines missing, it'll only cause more trouble for you and him.

"Relax, they're here to help us." He waves at them, making them giggle before he looks back at you. "We will all get on the horses and take different paths to throw the Janissaries off long enough for you to escape."

"Escape to where?"

"Wherever you want to go. I would suggest going West and leaving the empire altogether, maybe go to the Romans. Keep a low profile and try not to seduce any more unhinged men." He pokes fun at you, despite the situation you're in.

You chuckle, tears of gratefulness in your eyes. "Thank you, Baris." You sniffle, taking off your bracelet. "Here. You can have this. Its the least I can do-"

"Girl, you need it more than I do." Baris pushes the bracelet back to you. "Besides, I've already been compensated generously."

"By who?" You ask and he gives you a knowing look. "Ibrahim?" He nods.

"He had been paying me since the moment you set foot in the palace to keep you safe. You think I just stuck around you because I like you so much?" You slapped his shoulder, making him laugh. "Okay, you werent all that bad. But wherever you go, I'm sure Ibrahim pasha will find you."

"And why is that?"

"Well, he was going to marry you." "What?" Baris looked at you confused. "You dont know? Ibrahim pasha talked to Sultan Suleiman about this. The sultan gave his blessing, but he wanted to ask for your consent as well. But then they went to war-"

So thats what Suleiman wanted to discuss with you.

"Anyways, Ibrahim pasha had given me permission to do whatever is necessary to keep you safe, even if it meant taking you out of the palace- or- well staging your kidnapping. When the time comes, Ibrahim pasha will find you and I will be long gone by then." Baris explained.

"You're willing to leave the palace behind? For me? I thought you liked it here." You were touched at his willingness to help you, even if he was taking money.

Baris shrugged, looking at Topkapi palace longingly. "I've had my fun here. Its time for me to go somewhere else. Have a fresh start, where I'm no longer a slave."

You smiled, nodding understandingly. "And them? Are they willing to risk it all for me as well?"

"Oh no. They're in love with me. And when they heard I was leaving, they decided to come along. Just cant get enough of me." You shot him a look. "We might start a brothel. You should come visit with Ibrahim pasha someday."

"Why the fuck would I go to a brothel-" He broke into laughter at your reaction.

"I'm just joking! But do visit me, hm?" He took your hand and pressed a kiss to it. He helped you up on the horse before mounting his with a girl behind him, the others mounting the other horses.

"Thank you, Baris. For everything." Baris gave you a nod. You suddenly heard yells from behind you.

"Time to go!" Baris yelled.

-

You were galloping through the woods, the same forrest where you had first landed here. It was raining dogs and cats, making it hard for you to see ahead of you and even harder for the horse to run through the wet ground.

Your mind wandered back to Ibrahim. All this time, you thought he'd abandoned you and yet he was the one who had your back.

Was he really going to marry you?

You doubt he would've. Or even if he did, the question was- would you have said yes?

Maybe. He is the sane one of the ottomans, and apparently the only one who is willing to help you. You're sure he wouldnt have done anything unbecoming of a man even if you married him. And why would you not marry him? It buys you time to work on your machine and get out of this era, AND it protects you from the royals, especially Mehmed.

Mehmed. Your heart wrenched at the thought of him punishing those poor servants. Did he really have their eyes stitched up? What would he have done to you on returning? More importantly, what would he have done if he caught you escaping.

"I'll break your fucking legs!"

You shuddered at his threat, leaning down to speed through the woods.

Maybe God finally cut you a break- how else could you explain all this? Baris being the one to break you out, despite you being sure he'd betray you the first chance he gets. Ibrahim pasha having your back all this time. You escaping the palace without the Janissaries or anyone hot on your tail. Maybe your time machine will finally work too. Maybe you'll finally make it out of here. Maybe you just lucked out-

You heard the clouds above you roar loudly and in the next moment, you heard yourself scream as you were blinded by a white flash, throwing you off your horse.

You laid on the ground, pain radiating throughout your body, vision blurry, palpitations in your ear as you tried to make sense of what had happened.

A lightening strike.

You were struck by lightening.

If you werent in so much pain, rapidly losing consciousness, you wouldve laughed at your fortune.

Lucked out?

More like out of luck.

-

Mustafa had walked in on Mehmed screaming and threatening to kill every servant, his sword bloody. Looking behind his younger brother, he spotted two headless guards.

"Mehmed?" He asked cautiously.

"She escaped! She fucking ran!" Mehmed yelled before he could ask what was wrong. He raised his sword to cut off yet another head, but Mustafa stopped him.

"Tell me what happened." Mustafa's strong voice had Mehmed reeling some of his anger back, explaining what had happened.

After listening to him, Mustafa sighed. "We'll find her, Mehmed. Calm down." He looked at his Janissaries and ordered them to close off the city, and the docks. No one leaves.

"She could've already left the city-"

"Its unlikely for her to have managed to do that, that too when its pouring heavily." Mustafa, the cool headed prince, began to think logically.

"Then where is she? The city is still too big! It'd be like finding needle in a haystack." Mehmed sneered, glaring at the servants.

Mustafa closed his eyes, trying to think of where you could possibly ran off to.

He snapped his eyes open. Of course, you'd be there.

"I know where she is." He stood up, Mehmed following behind him.

-

You woke up to someone wiping your cheek. It took a few moments for your vision to clear, your eyes looking around what seemed to be a cottage before landing on the person beside you.

Old lady.

It was the old lady. The one who saved you when you dropped at her doorstep when you entered this era.

"Oh dear, you're finally awake!" She smiled gently, continuing to wipe the mud off your cheek. "You're lucky my husband was out when he spotted you unconscious. You could've drowned in that rain, you know?" She said in a chiding town, as if you chose to lie down in the pouring rain.

The old man walked out of the kitchen with a cup of hot tea in his hands.

"Here you go, hun. Drink this." He handed you the cup before sitting beside his wife.

"Now, where've you been all this time?"

By the time you were finished telling them everything that happened to you, from being kidnapped by the Janissaries to be sold as a slave, to almost dying a few times in the palace, to being set up to marry one of the two princes, to being struck with lightening, the old lady was in tears as she pulled you into her embrace while the old man continued to yell a stream of curses at the Ottomans.

When you tried to leave, they stopped you- telling you its absolutely unsafe for you to go anywhere in this bad weather. And well, hearing the heavy rain and the fact that you were indeed struck by lightening, you couldnt really argue.

"Okay, just for tonight."

While you were having dinner, you were taken back to your memories- memories of your own family. Sure, you were surrounded by family at the palace as well, but they didnt feel like home. They didnt really care for you, not like this cute old couple does. And to be honest, you missed this feeling. From your time in Jerusalem, to your time in the palace, this is the first moment of normalcy you've had in a while.

You looked at them, smiling as they made silly jokes and ate food. They included you in their conversations, they fed you, they made sure you were comfortable when you slept in the guest room- or what you assumed was their daughter's room.

You didnt tell them, you couldnt but you did try finding out what happened to her. Baris told you what did.

Naima. That was their daughter's name.

Naima was brought to the palace by the Janissaries as a concubine, and only a few weeks in- she was chosen to sleep with the sultan.

She killed herself the next day. She had jumped off the roof, but she didnt die instantly. She died as Hurrem watched from her balcony, and she refused to alert anyone to help the poor woman.

You didnt want to take this last bit of hope from the couple- the hope that Naima may still be alive and will come home one day.

-

You were woken up to someone banging on the door.

"BY THE ORDER OF SEHZADE MUSTAFA! OPEN THE DOOR!" Someone yelled from outside. The old man sprung to his feet as he peered through the window.

Janissaries. A whole troop of them and in the very front, sitting on top of their horses were Mustafa and Mehmed.

"Get her out of here." The old man told his wife, who hurried you out of bed and was about to leave through the back door when she saw the Janissaries out there as well.

"Come on." She dragged you up the stairs to the roof, just as you heard the door being broken down and yelling.

Reaching the roof, you looked down only to see the cottage was surrounded by the guards.

"We're surrounded." You whispered. "There is no escape."

"There is." The old lady whispered back to you, ushering you towards the edge of the roof. "Jump."

You looked at her. "What?"

"I wont let them take you back there. Jump, Y/n." She pushed you towards the edge.

"No- I'm not jumping!" You tried to back away but she gripped your arm.

"You have to, Y/n! I wont let them- I wont let any man take advantage of you! I wont let them do to you what they did to my Naima!" She cried, pushing you towards the ledge again, but you resisted against her, causing you to fall onto the ground.

"I'm doing this to save you!" She cried again, straddling you as she wrapped her hands around your throat. "Why wont you understand-"

"STOP!" A voice yelled. You both looked to the side to find Mustafa and Mehmed, the latter holding the old man.

Mustafa raised a hand in surrender. "Let her go. And we wont hurt your husband."

The old lady looked conflicted, as she looked at Mustafa and then at Mehmed who held a sword at the old man's neck, ready to slice it.

"I- I-" She continued to hold your throat as you struggled to breathe.

For a brief moment, the couple made eye contact and the old man smiled at her reassuringly.

"Do it. Save Y/n." He told her, but before anyone could react, Mehmed sliced off the man's head, Mustafa looking at his younger brother in shock as the woman shrieked before she began choking you hard.

With lightening speed, Mustafa pulled her off you and pushed her to the side.

"Y/n? Are you okay?" He crouched beside you, checking on you as you took huge gulps of air before nodding. Mustafa sighed in relief as he helped you stand up, only to turn around to find Mehmed holding the woman over the edge.

"Mehmed, dont!" He yelled, but it was too late. Mehmed kicked her in the back and the old lady fell to the ground. Mustafa left your side to look over the edge, eyes wide as he saw the woman hadnt died. Blood sputtered out of her mouth as she stared up with eyes blown wide.

And then, a sword fell on her neck straight down, finally killing her.

He looked to his side only to find Mehmed looking down disinterested, as if he hadnt just brutally murdered an old woman.

His younger brother.

A monster.

He watched Mehmed whisper threats to you as he dragged you back outside, practically throwing you over his horse. Mustafa let him take you- he wasnt going to fight who gets to ride with you when they were all going home.

Except... not.

Mustafa's brows furrowed in confusion as he watched Mehmed and his Janissaries take a turn and go a completely different path then the one to the Topkapi palace.

Where was he taking you?

Mustafa sped after Mehmed, his troops following behind as he yelled at Mehmed to stop.

But he didnt, not until an abandoned palace came to view.

Mehmed got off his horse, pulling you down before nodding at his men to take you inside.

"What the hell are you doing?" Mustafa asked as he got off his own horse, marching towards you but Mehmed blocked his path.

"What I should've done in the first place- duel."

Mustafa looked at him in disbelief. Duel? "You want to fight me? Have you truly lost it?!"

Mehmed got up in his face. "I've seen the way you look at her. I am not going to stand for it any longer."

"Mehmed-"

"Only one of us can have her, Mustafa. This ends today." Mehmed pushed him as he drew his sword.

Mustafa lips settled into a thin line.

"Fine." He pulled out his sword. "May the better prince win."

-

"Let go of me!" You try pulling yourself free from the guards grasps, but they continue to haul you inside the abandoned castle.

"I said- let go-!"

"Oh good, you're finally here!"

Mihirmah stood in front of you with a grin.

"Mihirmah? What are you doing here?"

She raised a brow. "What am I doing here? I'm here to prepare you!"

"Prepare me?"

"Mmhm! For your wedding to Mehmed!"

"What?"

She shrugged, taking you by the arm as she pulled you inside a room. "Well, when I found out you had run away, I suggested to Mehmed that the only way to make sure you stay by his side is for him to marry you. And I knew my mom would've stopped him from doing that, so I suggested he bring you here! By the time dad returns, you'd already be married to Mehmed and dad will definitely choose him to be the next sultan! Its only a cherry on top that Mustafa came here as well, and when Mehmed kills him- dad will have no choice but to choose Mehmed as his heir!"

You watched in disbelief before trying to make a run for it, but she anticipated it, snapping her fingers for the guards to lock the doors.

"Now, I will send the maids inside to get you ready. I need to go check on the sheikh who has to marry you two off." She smiled before leaving you alone.

She could care less about the sheikh, right now- she wanted a seat upfront to the showdown! Mehmed was going to win and she needed to be there to witness it.

-

Mustafa dodged Mehmed's attack again. Despite agreeing to the duel earlier, Mustafa had been taking on the defensive. Mehmed was his younger brother, he was still family even if he incredibly insane.

He cant bring himself to hurt him-

"Why arent you fighting?" Mehmed growled as he swiped at him again. "Are you that afraid of dying? Fight me like a man!"

"I dont want to fight you at all." Mustafa jumped back as he striked again. "You're my brother-"

"Like hell we are! One way or another, I'm killing you Mustafa! Be it today, or tomorrow when I'm finally sultan, because you know your mother screwed up any chance you had to be chosen! She fucked up and now you will pay for it!" Mehmed yelled, finally hitting a nerve with Mustafa.

My mother. They dont respect her.

Mustafa raised his sword as he struck over and over again, Mehmed barely able to escape the blade as it sliced his skin many times.

My own brother wants to kill me. And if I die, then so will my mother,

Mehmed groaned as Mustafa suddenly sliced the skin on his arm, the younger prince rolling onto the ground to avoid getting his arm cut off clean. But Mustafa was faster, kicking him in the stomach as Mehmed dropped onto the ground in pain.

"I am the better son." Mustafa said with a kick to his stomach.

"I am the better ruler." Another kick.

"I am the better choice." Another kick.

"I am better than you. In every way." Mustafa raised his sword to drop it on Mehmed's neck, just as cruelly he had done to that old woman.

Mehmed raised his hand in surrender as he coughed up blood.

"Please, Mustafa- d-dont. I'm your brother!" Mehmed begged for his life.

And in that moment, Mustafa saw his younger brother, the small child he promised to always protect.

Mustafa closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before stepping away.

"I. Win." He stated, turning around to leave. He was the bigger man. Once again, his mercy overtook his- no his love for his brother overtook his logic. He knows Mehmed wont back down, he will fight with him again. But that will be for another day-

"M-Mustafa." He looked back at him, his heart dropping at the sight.

Mehmed was coughing up blood, his face looked pale- and then he puked.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

And the moment his mouth started foaming, Mustafa remembered his mother's words.

"Dont worry about Mehmed, hm? He wont be a hurdle."

Mahidevran may have been exiled, but she still had a few people loyal to her. People who wanted Mustafa as the next sultan, not any of Hurrem's sons. People who more than willingly began microdosing Mehmed with poison.

-

You were trying to break a window to escape when the doors swung open. Mihirmah had returned, tears running down her cheeks.

"Mihirmah-" She hugged you before you could beg her to let you go.

"You look beautiful." She whispered as she pulled back, admiring the maid's work. "Mehmed always did adore the color red on you." She said in a trance.

"Mihirmah, please let me go." You plead and she gives you a broken smile.

"Thats what I came here to do." She whisperd, cupping your cheek. "I'm letting you go, Y/n. Mehmed's dead."

Oh. Thats why she's crying. But with Mehmed dead, you get to leave.

"I'm sorry to hear that." You said, watching her stumble back towards the door.

"I'm going to miss you, Y/n." She nodded, grabbing the fire torch off the wall. "Tell Mehmed I love him."

What?

Mihirmah dropped the torch onto the ground, setting the wooden floor ablaze instantly.

"Mihirmah-!" She left the room, closing the doors before you could make your escape.

"Mihirmah! Open the door!" You slammed your fists as the room began catching on fire.

Mihirmah locked the door from outside, wiping her tears away as she walked away.

You are Mehmed's bride. You belong to him, in life and now... in death.

Goodbye Mehmed. She closed her eyes. You wont be alone now.

She watched from the balcony as the Janissaries- her and Mehmed's troops, cornered Mustafa and pushed him to the ground like an animal for slaughter.

The guard looked at her.

She gave a nod.

The next moment, Mustafa's head was chopped off.

-

Fucking Mihirmah!

You slammed your fists against the door one last time before falling down to the ground, fire spreading around the room.

Fire. Why the fuck does it always have to be fire? Why is everyone so hell bent upon burning you to crisp? First in the desert with Salauddin, then those concubines in the harem, now this. If you didnt have a phobia before, you sure do have one now!

You pulled out your time machine hopelessly. Piece of crap wont even turn on-

Its on.

Your eyes widened at the screen illuminating.

Its working.

But how-

The lightning strike! It mustve charged it! That or maybe it could sense every single time you're near death and decides to fucking work.

"Oh fuck!" You curse as flames begin to close in on you. Now is not the time.

With trembling hands you try to change the date and location, but the screen is still broken and it wont budge.

You groan in frustration as you slam the button, your surrounding blurring as you begin to travel. Whatever time you land in, it'll be better than the one where you almost burn to death.

Right?

So, thoughts?? How did you like this chapter? What will happen next?

I also sorta blacked out a few times while editing this chapter, so ignore any mistakes.

PART 11 is here!

[inkskinned]

the car broke down by the denny's where you used to work and therefore could never return to. i am trying to pick out the satisfying parts of my life, one-by-one, like i am 12 and in a frog dissection. everything in my life all viscera and formaldehyde. if i can sort the good things from the bad things, i will have a nice clean pile.

i call you and make it sound like i am happy and hangin' in there! when really i am kicking a rock and i am outside without a jacket and i am so in love with you it makes the little bones in my ear shake. someone called my tinnitus an angel choir. i like that it means i carry the echo of every concert.

this isn't the right setting for love. this is a roadside, and a denny's, and i am nauseous and ashamed i never escaped the town where i grew up. the clouds here are this strange yellow, like spilled sour milk. "someone once told me that the orange coating on the teeth of a beaver is due to the particularly high rate of iron in their enamel," i tell you. "the beaver is the largest rodent native to north america."

your voice is crackly on the other end. i'm going into a garage soon, i might lose you.

what i should be doing is calling the tow truck and explaining that my brother's car (that i'm borrowing) (that i broke now, i guess) needs to be lifted by another, bigger, stronger car (which is love too, i guess).

i shouldn't say so much. i should wait, and let you ask about my mom, and ask if i ever got over that cold, or how it's going at work. i should let you lead the conversation, for once, so the love doesn't leak out of me into the gravel. i open my mouth anyway. "if you had to choose between being a beaver with very few trees or being a tree around a bunch of beavers, which would it be?"

i don't know. your voice always has this warm cast to it when you talk to me, but maybe i am just imagining that - i am a poet, though, so i imagine things sort of chronically. through the static, you sound like you're laughing. are you the beaver?

i know, like, logically, not to fall in love with a girl-that-is-your-best-friend. like, who would i even call if we broke up? you're my best friend, you're the person i'd want to speak to. so what if these last few months we keep sleeping over at each other's houses, calling each other for hours, sending each other poems. so what if you keep wrapping your fingers into mine. no best friends. that is the first rule. what you are supposed to do in that situation is leave the situation.

but my car broke down, so. where exactly am i going to go? the car is a very-old chevvy and also where i almost-but-not-quite kissed you after you'd raised one shoulder and looked up at me and said i don't know, i think i'm straight, but for the right person - i'd try anything. the music had been good and it had been raining and your thick eyelashes had made me feel god crawling up my throat like a spider. and i didn't kiss you, because i am a coward.

anyway on the chevy the whole exhaust pipe fell out, and is now scraping on the ground like one silver finger stroking the back of the highway. recently we were watching netflix in my bed and you pushed my hair back from my face like you were making the slowest, most desperate prayer, and then your boyfriend called. i remember us both jumping. i couldn't look at you in the eyes for like a week after. i kept feeling the heat of your fingerprint; computer science, you'd unlocked something dark in me.

google says the closest tow (joe's pick up) is 50 minutes away and also closed permanently. so that's not great. you live in another state and i should be calling my insurance company. i should be calling anybody else. this is not helping. i need an uber. i need to get moving. instead i say: "i need three words for a poem."

yesterday i said love you, goodnight after our 2 hour call like always and then you just, like. paused. all i could hear was your breathing. and then you'd said what a pretty three-word poem. i love you too, sweet thing. the words made my tinnitus act up again, and i must have some kind of synesthesia, because the sound travelled into my mind until it became the shape wedding rings.

orange, you say. the static is now chewing through most of your words and i only catch - borrowing the chevy -

the call dies. i have 12% battery. i never get the 3rd word, but i know you're still going to get a poem from me. actually this rest stop is kind of pretty, and so is the exhaust pipe, and so is joe's pick up, and so are the clouds. the light here is the color of a glue trap. before you worked at the denny's, we used to get milkshakes every wednesday and called it a friend date. you said you'd wanted to work there because it reminded you of me.

the sign's gone dim. the letters now spell out deny. and isn't that something.

[neil-gaiman]

This is the longest shot in the world but if I don't ask....

I met you a few years ago when you spoke at the Ace Theater in Downtown Los Angeles. I'm an employee of the bookstore that supplied the books and I helped you sign seven hundred of them. It was such a pleasure to meet you and I'm very grateful that I was given the opportunity.

The point of this message: After working for other people for years, I'm going to open my own bookstore in Los Angeles. You're my favorite living author and so kind when we talked about Robert McGinnis, my favorite illustrator, so I'm hoping it's not disrespectful or pushy if I ask you for help on choosing a name for the store? I love books, I'm terrible at naming things. If you don't have any plans to open your own store and happen to have an idea or two rattling around... I don't even know. Grateful isn't enough for how I'd be. It would be magical. I'd probably cry. But in a good way.

Thank you for all the stories you've given us and I hope you have a wonderful day.

Best,

Ana

I always love the idea of naming a bookshop after short story collections or stories -- stores like The Golden Notebook, Dangerous Visions, Dark Carnival, for example. I always thought I'd like to call a bookshop "Fancies and Goodnights" after the John Collier collection.

What about looking at some of your favourite writers and seeing if any of them have stories, collections or novels that might make good store names?

I'll get you started -- here's a link to Ursula K Le Guin's page of books:

[jobean12-blog]

At First Sight

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (maybe he's a Mafia/Mob boss, maybe CEO- either way he's too delicious to ignore)

Word Count: 2,248

Summary: You're out to celebrate with friends when something unexpected happens.

Author's Note: We all know I love Mob/CEO Bucky and skirting that mystery line so you can use your imagination here! Honestly, if he approached me like this I'd just be putty in his hands haha 😏thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: flirting, Bucky is pretty forward, fun, drinking and mentions of alcohol but everyone is coherent and able to make clear choices, fingering, semi-public sex, curses

“I’m not sure…?”

You look between your two friends, Sadie, and Nia, and blink several times. “Too much?”

They look at each other then back at you.

“Definitely not!” Sadie squeals.

“And besides,” Nia adds, “the limo’s here. Too late to change!”

The space is dark, loud, and filled with moving bodies. You shove your way up to the bar and shout, “excuse me!” hoping to get the bartender’s attention.

With the music so turned up and so many other people slamming the bar, the bartender doesn’t even look in your direction.

“Heyyyy!” you shout with a slap on the bar.

“I’m not sure he heard you.”

At the sound of the unfamiliar voice, you look up at the man pressed close to you at the crowded bar.

He’s tall. And sexy. And gorgeous. And wearing a smirk that screams trouble…in the best way.

“Yelling won’t work doll,” the man says, motioning to the bartender. “It’s just too damn loud.”

You purse your lips as you try to think of a witty comeback but before you can he continues.

“But lucky for you, he’s my friend so I’ll help you order another round of those shots you seem to love.”

“How do you know what I love to drink?” you start, batting your lashes. “Maybe it’s a Whiskey neat.”

You lift your chin and smile sweetly, waiting for his reply.

“You’ve been ordering the same blue shots all night beautiful.”

Your mouth falls open to respond but nothing comes out.

Has he been watching you all night? Creepy or…amazing?

Instead, you stare and take in his features. Perfection.

The bartender comes over and looks at the man beside you expectantly.

“Three fingers of Whiskey, Steve and whatever the beautiful woman is having. She’s been waiting a bit.”

He turns to you, wearing a lopsided smile. “Will you be having Whiskey too?”

“I think I just might,” you tell your new friend.

“And how many fingers would you like doll?”

He watches you with an innocent expression as he spreads his long fingers out on the bar.

“Did you just…?” you stammer.

“Maybe just start with two,” he says.

A playful smile teases his lips, and you can’t help but stare at them.

“Fine, two fingers,” you say the bartender, “of whiskey…,” and then you give the man beside you a demure smile, “and more shots please.”  

“First time here?” the man asks, his gaze sweeping over you.

“How did you know?”

“I’d remember seeing you angel.”  

Even with his flirty forwardness you can’t seem to find anything that makes you uncomfortable. His eyes are friendly, and he’s standing close but not too close, just enough so you know he wants to be there to talk to you and only you.

You glance back to search for your friends but can’t find them anywhere.

“What are you celebrating tonight?” he asks when your eyes find his again.

“What makes you think I’m here celebrating anything?”

You raise an eyebrow and hold his stare.

“Do you ever just answer a question?” he counters.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth to stop your smile and fire back with, “do you ever stop asking questions?”

He laughs, the action lighting up his face and making his eyes crinkle flawlessly at the corners. It makes your stomach flutter.

You hold each other’s gaze for a beat before he continues.

“All the dancing and drinks…seems like a good time…a celebration.”

“Well, you’re right. My friend just got an amazing promotion at work.”

He smiles triumphantly and you smile back.

“So, there’s no chance you’ll be leaving here with me tonight.”

The bartender sets your drinks down in front of you just as your new eye candy finishes the sentence and you grab for your glass, downing as much as you can before you start to choke.

With a laugh the man takes a long and slow sip of his Whiskey, watching you. You put your half empty glass down on the bar with a dramatic bang and exhale.

“I…what? No!”

“That’s too bad,” he replies.

“You just met me,” you argue.

“And since the moment you walked in you’ve had my full attention,” he admits.

The shots seem to hit you all at once and you sway on your feet. He steadies you with a gentle but strong hand on your arm.

“Easy doll.”

“Ok…stop being so charming. The smiling and the touching… I like it way too much. It makes me want things…and we’ve only just met.”

“What kinds of things?” he asks, voice smooth like silk and deep.

You swallow hard and he tracks the movement of your throat before his eyes linger on your lips.

You gather up the shots for the girls. “We’re going to do these.”

He nods, slowly, his smile growing.

“So…um. I’ll see you later…?”

You wait, hoping he’ll give you his name.

“James, but you can call me Bucky.”

“Ok then, see you later Bucky.”

“I sure hope so angel.”

You find your friends at a table, catching their breath, and set down the shots.

“I met the hottest guy.”

Both friends pause with the drinks halfway to their mouths.

“What the hell are you doing here then?” Sadie asks.

“Girl’s night, we’re celebrating,” you say. “Duh.”

“Fuck that, go dance with the hot guy!” Nia shouts.

You lift your glass to your lips and shake your head. “No way, I’m here to dance with you all! Let’s go!”

You polish off the shot, wait for them to do the same then hold out your hands to pull them onto the dance floor.

The beat of the music surrounds you and you let go, forgetting routine and responsibility and just enjoying the moment.

Sadie yells something to you about the song that just started but you don’t quite catch it. Just behind her, set in the shadows off the side of the bar stands Bucky.

Your eyes meet and neither of you look away.

He doesn’t seem the least bit surprised to be caught staring at you. Every inch of your skin heats and when he lifts his glass, takes a sip, and smiles, you smile back…and start to move…just for him.

The hem of your dress inches higher as you lift your arms above your head, swaying your body to the rhythm of the music and getting lost in it. Your friends move closer and lean in.

“You’ve attracted an audience,” Sadie chuckles.

She whips her head to the side to point out the group of guys moving closer. You ignore the group and search the shadows for Bucky but he’s nowhere to be seen.

With unexpected disappointment you grab Sadie and tell her you need to use the ladies room, weaving your way though the crowd and off the dance floor. You follow the signs to the second floor, which is essentially a balcony overlooking the rest of the space.

After freshening up you walk out of the door and right into something hard. Bucky grips your biceps lightly, holding you close.

“You ok?” he asks.

You were standing close to him at the bar, but not this close, not close enough to smell his skin and feel the rise and fall of his chest. It makes you heady, but you manage a nod.

“Hi angel,” he smiles.

“Hi.”

“I was enjoying watching you dance.”

“I noticed.”

You hold his gaze, unable to look away. Down at the bar it was hard to tell the color of his eyes, but here, hidden away, even in the low light you can see they’re beautiful. The blue is like the ocean on a sparkling sunny day. Mesmerizing.

“Do you know what watching you does to me?”

You blink, trying your hardest to keep up with his directness.

He reaches down to take your hand, his grip loose and his movements tentative, waiting for you to tell him to stop.

When you don’t he presses it firmly to where he’s hard and aching.

“All this?” you ask in a breathy whisper. “Just from watching me?”

“Come home with me.”

You let out a little giggle.

“No. I can’t.”

“Come to my car then.”

“I’m not leaving this club with you.”

Even as you hear yourself say the words you know they aren’t holding the force you want them to.

He bends and presses a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“But I’m dying to touch you.”

It’s impossible to pretend you don’t want the same thing and you place your palms on his chest and push him backward into the darkness.

“Is that a yes?” he asks as he runs a long finger over the curve of your shoulder.

“You aren’t some psycho are you?”

With a chuckle he moves closer, brushing his lips along your cheek. “You make me feel a bit crazy doll, but no, I’m not.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and tilt your head, whispering against his lips, “something tells me I can trust you.”

He moves willingly, and meets you with a smile, pressing his lips to yours.

“You taste as good as you look angel. What’s your name?”

“My name?” you whisper, so caught up in the feel of him you almost forgot.

“You know my name, so you’ll know what to call me when you’re about to come. It’s only fair I do the same.”

You let out a little gasp and hold onto his shoulders more tightly.

“I…,”

You feel his smile against your mouth before he turns you and presses your front to the edge of the balcony overlooking everything below.

He takes your chin between his fingers to turn your head and steal another kiss, lingering until you whisper your name against his lips.

With a satisfied smile his fingers tease the edge of your dress and then he lifts it, sliding his hands down between your legs to rub along your panties.

“You’re so wet. And all for me angel.”

You moan loudly when he slides a long finger inside you and presses a kiss to the back of your neck.

“You’re so soft,” he murmurs into your ear as he presses the pad of his thumb to your clit.

You turn and look at him. His eyes are wide open and clear. He teases you more, watching your every reaction then turns you to face him and drags you against the wall, bending to kiss you, hard and hungry.

“Someone could come down here,” he reminds you, meeting your eyes, giving you one last out.

You don’t care. He’s too perfect. He feels too good.

When you don’t protest he kneels at your feet and carefully pushes up your dress, hooking his thumbs into your panties to slowly drag them down.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, standing and lifting your leg to spread you open.

Reaching between your bodies, you open his jeans and push them down along with his boxers. You grab for him, rubbing him through your arousal.

“Fuck doll, wait. I need to put this on.”

He reaches behind him and fumbles for the back pocket of his jeans, pulling a condom free.

“You’re big,” you whisper, loving the feel of his warm, silky skin.

His grin is wolfish. “That’s the best thing you could say to me.”

You run your closed hand along the length of him again, letting the tip just bump your clit.

“Fuck, keep that up and I’ll be coming all over your hand.”

His fingers are unsteady as he works to slip the condom on.

“Have you done this before?” you ask, unable to keep your eyes off his cock.

“Have sex with a beautiful woman in a public space?”

He starts to push into you, achingly slowly. “No angel, I’ve never done this before…but with you, I’ll take what I can get.”

His words die away when he’s fully inside you, rubbing against your clit with each stroke and filling you so completely. You grip his shoulders as his thrusts grow faster.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

He leans back and looks down between your bodies, his eyes squeezing shut for a brief second before he starts to move faster.

When he leans down to kiss you he slows his movements, pulling out almost all the way before sinking back in. The slow pace doesn’t last long, and he hitches your leg higher to go deeper.

You feel your release building in your stomach and it’s only a few seconds more before a cry falls from your parted lips.

“Oh fuck,” he gasps, his hips moving jaggedly and rough before he comes with a deep groan.

He leans heavily against you, pressing his lips to your neck. “You’ve wrecked me angel.”

His hand is gentle when it smooths along your leg, and he pulls out. You straighten your dress as he rolls off the condom.

“That was perfect Bucky,” you hum, meeting him for a kiss.

He nods, dazed. “You’re ok?”

“Better than ok,” you answer. “And I think I’m ready for another dance.”

His lips twitch with a surprised grin and you turn away before he can respond, leaving him standing with his pants still unbuttoned.

A few minutes later you find Sadie and Nia, both ready to head home. And it isn’t until you’re sitting in the quiet of the limo, reliving every second of what happened with Bucky, that you realize you’d left your panties on the floor at his feet.

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

Best Friends Brother pt. 2 | C.W. ⋆✮⋆˙

> Part One

feat. Charlie Weasley x fem!reader

SUMMARY: Months have passed since you met (ie shagged and definitely didn't fall in love with) Charlie Weasley. And when Molly invites you to the Burrow for Christmas, your best friends Fred and George assure you that Charlie will not be in attendance. Spoiler alert: They are wrong.

CW: MDNI 18+, lots of christmas fluff and smut, Charlie being a shameless flirt, pining, brat tamer and primal!charlie if you squint, dirty talk, p in v, oral (f receiving), this is so tooth-rotting I cannot

AN: Charlie might be my favorite weasley to write for. and the implications of brat taming and primal play have my mind reeeeeeling

“So what are you doing for Christmas, deary?” Mrs. Weasley asked, stirring a sugar lump into her tea. You were squeezed beside Fred into a booth at tea shop in Diagon Alley, having run into your best friends and their mother while Christmas shopping. Molly insisted you join them for a rejuvenating cuppa, and you weren't one to refuse an earl grey.

“Oh, nothing really. Probably watch some corny films and get take away,” you replied, nibbling on the edge of a croissant.

“What?!” She gasped, so loud the neighboring tables turned to see what the fuss what about.

Fred and George pulled an identical grimace.

“Unacceptable!” She cried, dropping her spoon with a clatter. “Why on earth didn't you tell me she was spending Christmas alone?!” She whacked George on the arm and kicked Fred in the shin under the table.

“We didn't know!” They whined in unison, rubbing their injuries.

“Oh, Mrs. Weasley, it really isn't a big deal—”

“Not a big deal! Dear, it's Christmas!” She reached across the table and took your hands, squeezing hard and holding your eye. “You will spend it with us at the Burrow, alright?”

You blanched, your tongue going thick. “Oh, I-uh—”

“Charlie will be in Romania,” Fred hissed to you from the corner of his mouth. “Just say yes, or she’ll skin us.”

Charlie. Best friends brother, dragon wrangler, and the best lay you'd ever had in your life. It had been three months since your tryst in the storage room, and the hours of effortless conversation that came after, and you'd thought of him every day since.

You'd exchanged a few letters over the months, pleasantries and some light flirting on Charlie's part. He'd even sent you a few shed scales from your favorite dragon species, the Welsh Green, but beyond that, nothing had transpired.

He lived on Romania, after all. And his work was his life. You just had a bit of fun together, a few hours of fantasy, nothing more. But no matter how many times you repeated that like mantra, you still found yourself unable to move on.

“I hope you know, love, I will not accept 'no' as an answer,” Molly said, pining you with a stern glare.

“Well, thank you, Mrs. Weasley. I’m very grateful for the invitation, and I'd love to spend the holidays with your family,” you said, offering as genuine a smile you could muster despite your trepidation, and Molly beamed at you, already running through her plans for you all.

Fred slung an arm around your shoulders, jostling you with his excitement. “Yes! You're gonna love it.”

You were grateful, and you were eager to have a real Christmas with a family you adored, but it still felt…odd. You'd be spending the holidays with Charlie's family, but not Charlie.

You weren't sure if you were relieved or disappointed but…either way you were spending Christmas at the Weasley’s.

The Burrow and it's residents welcomed you with open arms. The sprawling home was decorated floor to rafter in homemade garland and candles, with decorated trees in every room, branches heavy with ornaments and paper chains.

Harry, Hermione, and Fleur were also staying over the holidays, and Ginny was beside herself with excitement that you were joining as well, pulling you in for a crushing hug that squeezed the last of bits of anxiety from your heart. Percy and Bill helped with your things, and the twins were quick to get a drink in your hand while everyone chatted excitedly over one another.

It was warm and merry, and you couldn't believe you almost missed this because of a stupid, little crush.

After about an hour of conversation, you noticed Ginny start to fidget under Harry’s arm, glancing at the location clock by the stairs every few minutes. The hand with Charlie's name remained firmly at ‘work’, while the rest piled into ‘home’.

You exhaled, fighting the nerves reknitting themselves in your stomach.

“Oi, twitchy,” Fred bumped your shoulder, drawing your attention back to the conversation. “What's on your mind—”

The floo station suddenly flared to life, verdant green light blasting through the room as the flames roared. Everyone yelped and scurried back, well, besides Ginny, and when the flames died the next instant, you realized why.

Charlie Weasley stood at the center of the fireplace, a bag over his shoulder and a smug smile on his face.

Your stomach turned inside out.

Merlin, how had he gotten even more handsome? His hair was a slightly longer, his beard thicker to ward off the biting, Romanian cold. He wore a heavy coat and cargo pants, leather boots still packed with melting snow.

“Charles!” Molly shrieked, throwing herself at her second oldest son and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug.

“Charlie!” Everyone cried, rushing to greet him while you tiptoed the opposite way, meaning to escape into the hall so you could collect yourself.

“Ah, ah,” George said, catching your wrist, grinning. “You don't want to do that,” he teased.

“And why not?” You huffed.

“Better to play it cool,” he winked, and you stuck your tongue out at him.

He was right, though. You would only survive this if you played it cool. Pretended everything was normal, that you hadn't been pining for this man for weeks on end, that the thought of spending Christmas with Charlie didn't make your heart flutter with excitement.

“But the clock!” Arthur laughed, finally wrangling Molly away so he could hug his son.

“Asked Ginevra to enchant it,” Charlie said, hugging his father with one arm and bundling his little sister into his opposite side, dropping a kiss on top of her head. “Seems she did well.”

“It is not to be tampered with!” Molly crowed, wiping tears from her cheeks.

“Alright, alright. I'll fix it,” Charlie chuckled, withdrawing his wand from his belt and muttering a reversal spell. The clock hand whirred around the face, confused, before it finally settled on ‘home’ with everyone else.

Charlie made his way around the room, hugging everyone and chatting until finally, he reached George, who you were attempting to hide behind.

Charlie pulled him into a bear hug, clapping him on the back. “She knows I can see her, right?” He murmured to George, just loud enough to be sure you also heard him.

Your cheeks flamed, your stomach falling through the floor.

George scoffed. “Stop checkin’ out my girlfriend, mate.”

Charlie grinned, shoving George to the side, perhaps a little harder than necessary. “Dream on, Georgie,” he chuckled, eyes shining with amusement. He finally turned to you, his expression softening. “Happy Christmas, y/n,” he said, approaching slowly, the heavy plod of his boots matching the jump of your heart.

“Happy Christmas, Charlie,” you replied, playing coy and reaching up to brush some snow from his wide shoulder. “How's my Welsh Green?” you asked.

Charlie smirked, his eyes sweeping over your face, down your neck, before flicking back to your eyes. “She nearly took my head off this morning when I tried to give her breakfast.”

“My kind of girl.” You felt your skin heat under his attention, but you held your composure.

“Mine too,” he purred, lowering his voice. Heat curled low in your stomach, remembering the way his voice pitched and deepened while you—good god, you were losing your mind.

“Time for supper!” Molly called over the dull roar of conversation, and you slipped away from Charlie to follow the twins into the dining room, desperate for a breath that wasn’t sweetened by his cologne.

Dinner went by in a blur of food and activity, Charlie sat by Arthur at the head while you were sequestered to the other side with the twins. After eating, Charlie slipped away to shower, and you joined everyone else back in the living room for board games and music.

You were wrapped up in a game of Scrabble with Hermoine and Ginny when Charlie re-emerged, his hair damp and slicked back, dressed in flannel pajama pants and a black t-shirt. Your mouth dried, your pussy fluttering at the mental image of him in the shower moments before.

His eyes found you across the room, his tongue darting out to wet his lips while they swept over you, taking in the House crewneck and pj shorts you’d changed into. You turned back the game to hide your face, swallowing the lump in your throat.

A moment passed, then Charlie turned to join Bill, Percy, and Arthur in the study, casting you another glance over his shoulder before disappearing.

A few more hours rolled by, and one by one, everyone went to bed besides the older men in the study. Molly set you up on the couch, apologizing profusely for the lack of space, but you waved her off, happy to curl up by the fire and read the book Percy lent you.

You settled in with a blanket over your lap, a book in one hand, cup of tea in the other. Soon though, exhaustion began to tug at you, and your eyes started to flutter closed, the warmth of the room and the chaos of the day taking its toll as you slipped into unconsciousness.

Distantly, you felt someone take the book from your hand, the empty tea cup from your lap, and you swam back to wakefulness, lifting your head.

“Just me, love,” a voice said, soft and male, and you immediately recognized it as Charlie’s.

You blinked open your eyes, finding him sticking a playing card in your book to hold your page. “Oh, what are you doin’?” you mumbled, rubbing a knuckle in your eye.

“Are you sleeping down here?” he asked, crouching in front of you, brow lightly creased. He smelled like woodsmoke and cinnamon, and you had to remind your sleep-addled mind that you could not just melt into his arms like softened candle wax.

You nodded. “Guest beds are full. But it’s okay, m’comfy.” You snuggled back down on to the couch, pulling the blanket up to your chin.

“I don’t think so. C’mon, you can take my bed.”

You shook your head, grumbling an unintelligible protest into the pillow as sleep crept back in on you.

Suddenly, you were moving, the couch falling away.

“I’m not letting you sleep on the sodding couch,” Charlie grumbled, curling you into his chest. You gave half a thought to try and free yourself, to put up some sort of fight, but his heartbeat was right against your ear, reverberating in the barrel of his chest, and you just couldn’t bring yourself to move away.

He carried you up a few flights of stairs and down a hallway, nudging open a bedroom door with his foot, careful to walk you through without bumping against anything. He set you down on his bed and tucked you under the thick duvet. The smell of him wrapped around you, clean and warm and Charlie, and you moaned in contentment, too tired to stop yourself.

Every one of your cells had missed him.

He smoothed your hair from your forehead, pressing a light-as-air kiss to your temple before pulling away. You reached out to catch his hand, surprising him.

“Where are you gonna sleep?” You asked, voice muffled by his pillow.

“I’ll find somewhere,” he murmured, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. “Used to sleeping in strange places.”

You must have pulled some kind of face, your filter nonexistent in your sleepy state, because he leaned back down to you, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Better stop with that pout, sweetheart. You’ve got me strung out on the gallows,” he warned, a teasing lilt to his voice.

“M’not doing anything,” you teased back, peeking open your eyes to look at him.

“I’m trying to behave this time,” he chuckled, crossing his heart. “You deserve to be properly courted.”

A yawn stole the snarky quip from your tongue. “If you insist,” you sigh, eyes fluttering closed again.

“I do. Now, get some sleep,” he whispered, but you were already gone.

The following morning, you trudged down the stairs at an egregious hour, the incessant, jovial chatter of the Weasley's impossible to sleep through.

You found them all in the kitchen, steam from the kettle floating through the air, chased by the scent of cinnamon and syrup.

“There she is! The dead walks the earth! Now go bloody change!” Arthur shouted, shoving a rumpled but bright-eyed looking Charlie out from the crowd around the kitchen island.

“Huh?” You looked between the twins and Arthur, but Charlie slung an arm over your shoulder, tugging you into his side.

“I've been summoned to the Ministry for an update on a particularly nasty Horntail,” he said, then leaned in a little closer. “And Happy Christmas Eve, darling,” he whispered.

“Happy Christmas Eve—sorry, what does that have to do with me?” You asked, your brain catching up to the situation.

“The sap refused to risk waking you up to change into his suit,” George supplied. "So they're running late."

“Why would you—”

“Ignore them, you can sleep as long as you like,” he murmured to you.

“Charlie!” You hissed. “You should have woken me up!”

“Over my dead body, love.”

“Charles! Now!” Molly shouted, rattling the rafters.

“Fine, fine.” He reluctantly pulled away from you and bound up the stairs.

“Good morning,” Fred said, beaming at your scowl.

“Morning people, are we?” You asked, accepting a cup of coffee from George.

“No,” Ron argued, his head pillowed by his arms on the table.

Fifteen minutes later, the clop of heavy boots coming down the stairs drew everyone's attention away from their breakfast.

Charlie came around the bend, dressed in a simple, espresso colored suit with a black wool coat, a leather bag slung over his shoulder. His hair was pushed back, brushed and tidy, and silver jewelry shined from his pierced ears and ringed hands.

You nearly choked on your eggs, and Fred clapped a hand on your back.

Everyone wolf whistled and jeered, not used to seeing their rakish brother dressed to the nines. Charlie waved them off with a soft smile, leaning over you to grab a cinnamon roll. His freshly applied cologne wafted over you, spicy and warm, and all other thoughts vacated your head.

Arthur grabbed him by the arm. “Yes, yes. You're very handsome, you are my son after all. Let's go.”

“Wish us luck!” Charlie called, allowing an impatient Arthur to drag him towards the floo station. In a burst of green, they were gone.

“Are all mornings this chaotic?” You asked no one in particular.

“Yes,” they all replied in a unison, and you grinned.

You could get used to a little chaos.

The day passed in a whirlwind of preparation, with you spending most of it with Molly in the kitchen or decorating with the twins.

Once that was finished, you'd gotten ready in Charlie's room, dressing in a white sweater dress and black stockings, your hair loose down your back and makeup rosy.

You couldn't help but wonder what Charlie would think of it as you evaluated yourself in the mirror. You felt his absence like an ache in your side, and found your gaze wandering back to the floo station all day.

About an hour before dinner, green flames finally erupted in the fireplace. Everyone dropped what they were doing and rushed over, eager to hear about how it went at the Ministry.

You'd gathered from the twins that the fate of the Horntail hung in the balance after it destroyed a flock of sheep in Western Scotland. Charlie, along with several other Dragonologists, had been fighting for it’s life for months.

The flames extinguished, revealing Arthur and Charlie. Arthur was beaming, an arm around his son, while Charlie looked exhausted.

“Oh, thank goodness. Just in time!” Molly cried, throwing her arms around her husband.

“How'd it go?” Everyone asked at once, following Charlie as he stalked into the living room and dropped heavily onto the couch.

Charlie pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes shut against the racket.

“Our son was incredible, Molly. You should have seen him. Every question, he beat away like a bludger. It was masterful,” Arthur gushed, still grinning.

You watched Charlie warily. He certainly wasn't acting like it had gone well.

Bill, seeming as concerned as you, poured a glass of whiskey and passed it to his younger brother. Charlie swallowed the amber drink in one go, not even bothering to open his eyes.

“So, is the Horntail safe?” Ginny asked, sitting tentatively beside her brother on the couch.

“For now,” Charlie muttered, finally picking his head up and opening his eyes. “They want to reevaluate in six months.”

“But that's good, isn't it?” Harry asked.

Charlie nodded. “I suppose.”

You could feel the hurt and anger radiating off of him despite his efforts at composure. The resolution clearly wasn't good enough for him, and you understood why.

You resisted the urge to sit by him, to fuss over him like his family was doing. It seemed to only drive him deeper into himself. He didn't need to hear that it was a good thing, a victory, because it wasn't. It shouldn't be a debate in the first place.

Christmas Eve dinner passed with the expected chaos, and Charlie seemed to cheer a bit after a good meal, a few laughs, and another whiskey. But you could still detect a heaviness around his shoulders. You felt it as keenly as if it was your own burden.

After dinner, everyone moved back into the living room, but you followed Charlie into the now abandoned kitchen, the wreckage of the meal evident on every surface.

You leaned against the entry way, watching as he fiddled with random things, looking for a way to distract himself. “Hey,” you murmured, drawing his attention from the mugs he was straightening.

He gave you a tired smile. “Hi, love. How was your day?” He asked, moving towards you. He'd ditched his blazer and dress shirt before dinner, leaving him in his dark trousers and a white t-shirt, his muscles straining against the fabric.

“It was good. Made some cookies, strung some lights. We missed you, though.”

He braced a hand on the wall beside your head, leaning closer. “We?” He asked, raising a brow.

Merlin, his bicep was the size of your head.

You shrugged, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Me, mostly.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, freckles crinkling around his eyes. “I missed you too. Would have much rather been here to help out. I make a mean gingerbread.”

“I bet you do," you replied sincerely, watching the way his shoulders start to ease down. “I’m sorry about the Horntail,” you said, a little quieter. “But I'm glad you bought it a little more time.”

Charlie sighed, picking at a flake of paint on the wall. “I am too. Just wish I didn't have to do it at all. He doesn't deserve to be executed just for feeding himself.”

“I know. But I'm glad he has you to speak for him.”

Charlie searched your face, his eyes melting with blatant affection. Your heart tripped over itself, drumming hard under your skin.

He glanced up and you followed his gaze, finding a sprig of mistletoe hanging just above your heads. You hadn't noticed it before, but you supposed that was the beauty of mistletoe: it was always where you least expected it.

His eyes flicked back down to you, molten chocolate, and your thoughts turned to static. He reached up to cup your face, far more timid than you've come to expect from him, and tilted your head up towards his.

“Can't believe I haven't told you how beautiful you look yet,” he said, his other hand sliding around your waist to draw you closer. “A Christmas wish come true.”

You smiled, feeling like marshmallow over an open flame. “A Christmas wish?” You prodded, batting your lashes at him as heat spilled through you.

“Too cheesy?” He asked, bumping his nose against yours, your faces so close you could almost feel his smirk.

“The perfect amount,” you murmured, your lips grazing his.

Charlie closed the final millimeter, pressing your bodies together in a slow, sipping kiss. Every neuron in your body lit up, reaching towards him as you curled your fingers into his shirt, deepening the kiss. His tongue caressed the seam of your mouth and you parted for him, letting him delve further and taste you.

He loosed a low groan, his grip tightening as he backed you against the wall. He licked into your mouth, stoking the fire simmering under your skin.

“Hey, y/n—merlin, in the middle of the kitchen? Really?”

You and Charlie sprang apart, finding Fred with a hand clapped over his eyes, a cheeky grin on his face.

“So sorry for interrupting. Though, lucky it was me and not mum,” he teased, dropping his hand. But his smile quickly fell too when Charlie advanced on him, swinging an arm out in an attempt to grab him. Fred ducked to the left and bolted back into the living room, leaving Charlie laughing and shaking his head.

“Well, that's fantastic,” you huffed, pressing a hand to your sternum to quell your pounding heart.

“I can't say they'll be all that surprised.” Charlie cupped your face again, drawing you up for a quick peck. “I haven't shut up about you since we met.”

You're soul lifted out of your body. “You—r-really?”

He smiled, pulling you in for a hug, his big arms wrapped around your head and shoulders. “Really, love. You've got me wrapped around your little finger,” he said, his voice muffled by your hair.

“I thought I was going mad, I…I couldn't stop thinking about you,” you admitted, exhaling in relief. You hugged him around the waist, sliding your hands under his shirt just to feel his skin against yours.

You felt him stiffen at your admission, before the tension dissolved from his muscles completely. “Maybe we're both a little mad, then,” he chuckled.

“We should get back to the party before they start to miss us,” you said after a few moments of quiet, though all you wanted to do was drag him up to his room and show him just how mad you were for him. But you were a guest, and you needed a moment to get your thoughts in order.

It seemed Charlie had made up his mind about what he wanted, but you hadn't even begun to let yourself consider something real with Charlie Weasley. It seemed like too lofty a hope, an impossibility.

Your heart screamed ‘yes’ but your mind demanded a rationalization, a plan. Whatever you felt for him was intense, but you would hate to rush into something and ruin what you knew could be amazing.

Well, rush into something any more than your already had.

You realized he was studying you like your thoughts were written across your skin. “Baby, look at me,” he said, turning your face back up to his. “I know we started off on an…unorthodox foot. But that wasn't just a hook up and you and I both know it.” He leaned his forehead against yours. “There’s something more between us.”

“I feel it too,” you admitted. “But I've never…” you trailed off, unable to articulate the tumbling thoughts in your mind.

“Me neither, to be honest. I feel like I've been struck by lightning,” he said, breathless, a slight nervous tremble in his voice.

You nodded, reassured that he was feeling the same, vaguely crazed way you were.

“Trust yourself, y/n,” he said, releasing you from the hug and offering you his hand. “Overthinking is the thief of joy.”

“Get out of my brain,” you huffed in mock annoyance, smiling as you twined your fingers with his.

The rest of the evening passed in a rose colored blur, with cookies and games and storytelling. Charlie never strayed far from your side, though you kept any physical affection to a minimum. But based on the knowing looks from Arthur and Molly, and the teasing smirks and jabs from his siblings, they were definitely on to you two.

After the clock struck midnight, Molly demanded everyone go off to bed so Father Christmas would have no interruptions. You were all plenty old enough to know there was no such thing, but it still made you feel a giddy thrill of excitement. That glimmer of Christmas magic you never grow out of.

Charlie offered you his hand at the base of the stairs, a mischievous sort of smile on his face, and you accepted with a raised eyebrow. He led you up the stairs and opened the door to his room with a flourish.

You nearly toppled over when you walked in. It was completely transformed from this morning. Gone were the normal decorations and his dark duvet, replaced instead with a winter forest wonderland.

His bedspread was a deep forest green, with white throw pillows and silver trim, and a stuffed reindeer waited patiently for you on the pillow, floppy and velveteen. In the corner stood a flocked tree, decorated with pine cones and strung cranberries, and little animal ornaments carved from wood. The fire roared merrily in the fireplace, the mantle above it strewn with wild garland and rosemary. Two stockings hung above the flame, each of your names embroidered on them in silver and gold.

You whirled around to look at Charlie, who was smiling down at you, a slight flush to his freckled cheeks.

“When the hell did you have time to do this?” You asked, breathless and overwhelmed. No one has ever done something so special for you before.

“While you were wrapped up in Wizards Chess with Ron.” He snaked his arms around you, dropping a kiss to your furrowed brow.

“Charlie, this is—” emotion clogged your throat. “T-this is the m-most amazing thing—”

“Oh, baby,” he cooed, shushing you with a peck to your lips. “Spoiling you on Christmas feels like the least I can do to show you how much you mean to me. How badly I want this.”

“This?” You ask, sliding your hands up his broad chest. You expected to feel butterflies, but instead a warm blanket of peace settled over you, an understanding that this is exactly how it was meant to go. That here, with him, in the earliest hours of Christmas morning, was exactly where you belonged.

“Us,” he murmured, glancing at the stockings over the mantle, then back down to you, his dark eyes practically glowing with affection. “If that's what you want too.”

“Even with me here in London?” You asked, fiddling with his collar to hide the shaking in your fingers.

“We'll figure it out. You can come visit me as often as you like. And I can come back here a few times a month.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your cheek, moving down your neck like he just couldn't hold himself back anymore. “I have a cabin.” Kiss. “In the forest.” Kiss. “With a big fireplace.” Kiss. “And a soaking tub.” Kiss. “And I can cook.” Kiss. “And have a giant bed—”

“Charlie!” You giggled, tugging on his hair so he lifted his head and you could kiss him properly, melting under the eagerness of his mouth, the joy in his kiss.

He scooped you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He crossed the room without breaking the kiss, sinking down onto the edge of the bed with you straddling him. The heat of your bodies pressed together was enough to have your pussy tingling, your breath labored.

“I wanna go where you go,” you breathed, breaking the kiss to appease your burning lungs. “I want to be with you.”

He responded with another fervid kiss, open-mouthed and hungry, and you let yourself get swept away in the riptide that was Charlie Weasley. Wild, impulsive, but so sincere, so lion-hearted and good. You weren't sure you'd ever get enough of him.

He seemed just as desperate for you, tugging his shirt over his head and letting your hands finally wander the full expanse of his body without barriers. You pushed him back onto the bed so you could really take him in, his big hands resting heavily on your thighs. He was broad and sturdy, his chest and arms corded with hard earned muscle, the tanned skin littered with freckles and silvery scars.

You nearly started drooling.

In a fluid motion, you tugged your sweater dress over your head, leaving you in nothing but your Christmas underwear set and black stockings. The set was black mesh, decorated with mistletoe and holly berries. You had bought in Hogsmeade on the off chance Charlie made an appearance, and it was worth the steep price to see his soul ascend as he took you in.

“Merlin’s fucking—” he didn't even finish the sentence, instead pulling you down onto his chest for another scalding kiss, his calloused hands wandering up your thighs and over your hips, smoothing over the curve of your rib cage and around the plane of your back. His tongue slid into your mouth, twining with yours. You could taste the whiskey he'd been drinking, tinged with cigar smoke and gingerbread, and you moaned at the decadence of him.

One of his hands slid into your hair, the other bracketing across your lower back to press your hips flush to his. You ground down onto him, unable to ignore the thrumming between your legs any longer. You both groaned at the new friction, his hips lifting to press more firmly against you.

“Just so you know,” he gruffed as you kissed down his neck, licking a long stripe over his Adam’s apple, feeling his stubble under your tongue. “I put a silencing charm on the room.”

“Very presumptuous of you,” you teased, sucking at his pulse just hard enough to leave a faint bruise, but nothing too obvious.

His hips rolled against yours, coaxing a breathy moan from your lips. “Part of my training includes being prepared for any situation,” he countered, his voice strained with desire as you rocked against him.

“Uh-huh. And what else were you trained to do?” You asked, freezing in place to watch him squirm.

A wicked smirk crossed his face and suddenly you were moving, flipped beneath his body faster than you could blink. “How to tame brats,” he growled against your ear, and a shiver rolled down your spine.

He shifted down your body, kissing and licking along the swell of your breasts before unlatching your bra and tossing in across the room. He took both your tits in his hands, nuzzling the soft flesh before laving his tongue across both nipples, making you lift off the bed with a gasp of pleasure.

“It's not fair that you get to walk around with these all the time. Too fucking perfect,” he said, his voice muffled by your skin.

You almost said that they were his. That the only thing that wasn't fair was how quickly he'd stolen your heart. But you bit your tongue, moaning under his ministrations instead.

He sucked a pearled nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue over it before grazing his teeth against it, his fingers pinching and rolling the other until your eyes crossed, desire pooling between your legs.

“Can take my time with you now,” he hummed, pulling back to pepper kisses across your chest. “Take care of my girl properly.”

My girl. Your head spun, your heart swelling with elation. You never thought this would happen for you, the perpetually single girl who never found someone you genuinely connected with. But Charlie was like a comet tearing through your life, turning every one of your assumptions about love upside down.

He drew you back from your thoughts with a bite under your left breast. “Come back to me, baby. No more overthinking.”

“It’s good thoughts this time,” you said, running your fingers through his ginger hair and scratching along his scalp as he soothed the mark with his tongue.

He looked up at you, a pleased smirk on his face. “Thinking about that soaking tub, huh?”

You pulled his hair, giggling at his antics while he moved further down your body. “Among other things—shit, Charlie,” you whined when his tongue dragged over the soaked gusset of your panties, scalding hot and firm.

He pulled them to the side, gliding his tongue through your slick folds and wrapping his lips around your clit, lashing it with the tip of his tongue. Pleasure coursed through you, your eyes rolling back in your skull as you cried out.

He hummed against you, moving back down to lap at your entrance with long, messy strokes. He was practically grinding his face against you, savoring you like you were the finest meal he'd ever had. He was so enraptured in pleasuring you that he was moaning right along with you, making your clit vibrate and walls flutter.

“Saints, I missed you,” he said, giving your clit and open mouthed kiss before sucking the sensitive bud between his teeth.

You couldn't even begin to formulate words, completely lost in his feasting, your body fizzing with delight and pleasure. It felt like you were high, your muscles languid, bones rubbery.

“Not thinking anymore, are we?” He teased, nipping at the soft skin of your inner thigh.

You whimpered and shook your head, raising your hips to chase after his mouth.

“Good girl.” he purred, rewarding you by latching back onto your clit, his middle finger easing inside your greedy channel.

You cried out, clenching around his finger as he pushed you closer to the edge, your listless haze making way for bright, desperate pleasure. You bucked your hips against his mouth, his tongue flattening against your clit as his inserted a second finger, stretching you. The sounds were damn near sinful, lewd and sloppy as he worked your pussy into submission, molding you like a sculptor with wet clay.

“Fuck, Charlie. M’gonna come,” you whined, tangling your fingers in his hair to keep him in that perfect spot.

He curled his fingers inside of you and your vision whited out, your orgasm ripping through you, body and soul. You screamed, spine arching off the bed as wave after wave of burning ecstasy rolled through you, his tongue and fingers not letting up for a second as you convulsed.

“That's it, honey. Just like that, let it all go,” he cooed, kitten-licking your clit as you started to come down, his fingers continuing to gently massage your spasming walls. “Try to relax, love. I know it's a lot, but just relax f’me. You're doing so well.”

You sank back into the mattress, breathing labored as he soothed your quivering pussy with gentle touches. “Charlie,” you moaned, your body finally settling and cycling from overstimulation to rebuilding pleasure. “Feels s’good.”

He nuzzled your clit, kissing over your slit, the top of your mound, your inner thighs. “I live to serve,” he said, withdrawing his fingers and sucking them clean. “And if I have to live my life in service to this perfect little cunt, so be it.” As if to punctuate his point, he laved his tongue through you again and you keened, nearly jumping away at the intensity.

You shook you head, tugging him up by the hair. “Need you to fuck me, Charlie. Please?”

He grinned, kissing his way back up your body until he caught your lips once more, the taste of you mixing with him in a way that pleased some possessive part of your brain. You deepened the kiss, licking into his mouth for more.

He pressed his body against yours, the weight of him warm and comforting as you savored one another. You trailed your hands over his back, feeling some of the ridges and scars stretched across the ropes of muscle. He guided one of your legs up over his hip, angling your bodies together like a puzzle piece.

You basked in the simmering kiss for a moment longer before need began to claw at your insides, your hips pressing up against his once more.

“Charlie, please,” you sighed into his mouth, dragging your nails down his back. “Don't make me beg.”

“But you sound so sweet, all breathy and desperate,” he cooed, pecking your lips a final time before moving off the bed. He slid your panties down your legs, tossing them aside with your other clothes, then removed his trousers and boxers, that gorgeous, rosy cock slapping up against his stomach.

He climbed back onto the bed and spread your thighs, kneading the flesh at your hip while he ran the rigid head of his cock through your drooling pussy.

“My sweet girl wants to get fucked, hm?” he said, his voice rough as he used his cock to massage your puffy clit. “Let me hear you ask one more time, honey. Sounds so pretty.”

“Please fuck me, baby. Please,” you whimpered, fisting the sheets on either side of you.

He notched his cock at your entrance, hissing through his teeth as your pussy opened effortlessly for him. “That's it, lovey. Fuck, your little pussy is so tight f’me,” he groaned as your walls clenched around him, coaxing him deeper. You could tell he was fighting the urge to bottom out in one thrust, the muscles in his arms and shoulders taught and trembling, chest heaving and jaw a little slack.

You reached for him, the feeling so intense you needed an anchor. He leaned forward, knowing what you craved, and let you wrap your arms around him and bury your face into his neck.

He rubbed soothing circles on your thigh, his other hand sliding around your back to hold you against him. “Too much, baby?” He asked, pausing his slow penetration.

“Too good,” you whimpered, digging your nails into his shoulders.

He nodded, loosing a breath as you clenched around him. “Feel like your squeezing my heart,” he groaned, and you could feel it racing just beneath his skin, frantic as yours.

“Keep going, Charlie. Please,” you begged, tilting your pelvis so he sank a little deeper.

He eased you back onto the bed, still holding you close. “Good girl, takin’ me so well. Just relax, honey. Just feel me,” he soothed as he pushed the rest of the way in, his cockhead nudging your cervix and stretching your walls just enough. Not sensing any discomfort from you, he started rolling his hips back and forth in fluid strokes, kissing your skin wherever he could reach.

Pleasure spread through your body like ink through water, coloring every sensation, every thought. You loosened your grip on him, opening yourself up to his unhurried affection as he fucked you slowly, letting you adjust to the onslaught of sensation.

“You're so pretty like this, so fucking perfect.” He mouthed at your throat, your head tilting back with a cry as he increased his pace, ecstasy dancing along your skin. “All mine to love on, yeah? You all mine, baby?”

You bobbed your head, already cockdrunk and blissed out, your body submitting completely to him. “Yes, fuck, yes. All yours,” you whimpered, that knot in your lower stomach starting to tighten.

“Fuck yes, my good girl.” He leaned down and caught your lips in a searing kiss, a growl rumbling through his chest as he fucked you harder, driving his cock in and out of your sopping cunt with powerful strokes. “And I'm yours, baby. All fucking yours.” He murmured against your mouth and you grinned, feeling your heart give a discordant thump of elation.

He leaned back to fuck you deeper, one hand tangling with both of yours and pining your arms over your head, the other sliding down to rub tight circles over your clit. You stretched out for him, arching your breasts up to his hungry gaze as he railed you, merciless and claiming.

“Saints, you look so fucking sexy. Gonna come for me, love? Mark this cock as yours?”

You let out a scream as a second orgasm was wrenched from your body, the tension unraveling all at once in a torrent of bliss. You clamped hard around him, feeling his cock swell, then buck as his own release crashed over him, your name coming out like roar.

You clung to one another, his hips still rolling into yours as your walls milked him dry, wringing every drop of pleasure from one another until you crashed back to earth as one.

After catching your breath for a moment, he lifted off of you, hands skimming over your face, your body. “Merlin, I’m sorry, baby. I really didn't mean to be that rough, are you okay? Did I hurt—”

You silenced him with a kiss, pulling his body back down onto yours. “Was perfect,” you mumbled against his lips and he smiled.

“You were perfect,” he corrected, pecking kisses all over your cheeks and forehead. “Can’t get enough of you.”

You giggled, squirming as his hands tickled along your sensitive skin.

“Can I take you for a real date tomorrow? I don't know if anything will be open, but I refuse to go another day without—”

“Charlie,” you shushed, cupping his bearded cheek. “You can take me to the kitchen and call it a first date. I don't care about some made-up fucking rules. I just want to be with you.”

He grinned, giving you a quick, toothy kiss. “Then how about I clean you up, make some mulled wine with this expensive shit I brought back from Romania, and we cuddle by the fire? Call that our first date, and next year we can celebrate our one year anniversary on Christmas.”

You pushed against his chest, laughing at his dramatics, but secretly hoping that would be the case. “It better be a hell of mulled wine then,” you teased.

“Oh, it will be. Romanians don't fuck around when it comes to their booze. Now, open those gorgeous legs for me.”

“Charles Septimus Weasley! Get up!” Ginny shouted through the door, banging her fist on the wood. “You cannot sleep in on Christmas!”

“Septimus?” You groaned, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

Charlie had his head buried in your neck, heavy limbs thrown over your body. He was warm as a furnace, and the still crackling fire didn't help matters.

“Sod off!” he barked back, nuzzling closer and tightening his hold around you. You glanced at the clock, and after your prolonged first date, you'd only gotten a few scant hours of sleep.

“Fine! Then I'll throw whatever's in this fancy little box in the fire!”

Charlie was up in a flash, tugging on pants and wrenching open the door, but Ginny was already gone.

He sighed, grabbed something from the hall, then swung the door shut. He looked ready to dive back into bed, but you were already up, pulling on a pair of his boxers.

He froze in place, a feral sort of glint in his eye, forgetting entirely about the package in his hands. When you went to grab it, he lifted it high above his head, well out of your reach.

“Charlie!” You pouted, trying in vain to pull his arm down. He still hadn't taken his eyes off of your body. “You really want me to make a bad impression on your parents for our first Christmas?” You snapped, fighting the smile rising on your face.

“Just do a little spin for me,” he said, twirling a finger around.

“Charlie!”

“Fine, fine. Here,” he chuckled, handing you a pair of pajamas with your name embroidered on them. They were red and green, with white stripes and gold thread, the material thick and warm.

You loved them already.

The two of you quickly got dressed and hurried downstairs, finding everyone else already piled into the living room, also dressed in matching pj's.

“Ah, the lovebirds finally make their appearance!” Bill teased from the big arm chair, Fleur cuddled into his side.

Charlie flipped him off, ignoring the squawk of disapproval form his mother.

“Come, come!” Molly grabbed you and plunked you down on the last free space on the couch, and George passed you a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

George leaned in and muttered, “It's no mulled wine, but—”

Charlie whacked the back of his head. “Quiet, you,” he warned.

“Charles, if I have to speak to you again!” Molly shouted.

“Alright, alright! Let's get this show on the road,” Arthur said, shooing his son away so they could distribute the clumsily wrapped boxes under the tree.

Charlie plopped onto the floor between your knees, his hands coming up to absently massage your right foot. Your whole body tingled at the contact, your heart still tight with joy.

Could this really be your life?

Arthur passed out gifts, and you ended up with a pile of three at your feet. A flat, rectangular box, a heavy, square box, and one small enough to fit in your hand, wrapped in green and gold ribbon.

They went around one by one, opening gifts. Charlie received a new pair of steel-toed boots, enchanted to prevent the Romanian cold from creeping in, and an expensive looking bottle of gin, courtesy of his big brother.

After him, it was finally your turn. Your heart thudded from the attention, and you started unwrapping the larger present with trembling fingers. You tore off the paper and opened the white box underneath it, finding a navy blue, knitted sweater with your initial on the front. Your throat pinched shut, tears burning behind your eyes as you traced your fingers over it.

“You're part of the family now, love,” Molly said, smiling warmly at you as you wiped away a tear with the back of your hand.

“Thank you,” you sniffled, laughing at yourself, and Charlie gave your ankle a reassuring squeeze, pressing a kiss to your knee.

The next present was from Fred and George, a stack of books you'd been eyeballing the last time the three of you went to Flourish and Blotts, and you pulled them in for a group hug.

Finally, it came down to the last present. The tension pulled taut as a bowstring when Charlie turned towards you, propped up on one knee, presenting the small box.

“I know how this looks,” he murmured, glancing down at himself. “But I promise I'm not that insane.”

You giggled nervously, taking the present from his hand and trying to ignore that his entire family was watching you. You tried to focus on Charlie, the rise and fall of his shoulders, the lock of copper hair hanging over his brow, and blocked the others out.

Carefully, you undid the ribbon and tore off the paper, revealing a black, dragon-leather box. Charlie gave you an encouraging nod, noticing the way you hesitated, and you cracked open the lid.

Inside was a golden necklace with a Welsh Green dragon scale pendant sitting on a velvet cushion. It was the most stunning shade of emerald you'd ever seen, reflecting beautifully in the candlelight, shifting blue, then pearlescent, and back to green. It was breathtaking, and you fought back the tears gathering on your lower lashes so you could continue to gaze at it.

“Charlie, this is—” emotion stole your words, and all you could do was throw your arms around him and bury your face into his shoulder.

“I hope you love it, darling. Had it made just for you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your hair. “Here, let me put it on you.”

You nodded, sitting up and trying to wipe your tears before his family could see what a mess you were, but when you looked around, you saw half of them crying too.

Molly blew you a kiss, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief, and you nearly lost it again.

Charlie gently took the box from your hands and walked around behind the couch. His cool fingers grazed the sides of your throat as he lifted your hair, and the weight of the pendant settled against your clavicle. A moment later, your heard the clasp click, and felt the warm brush of his lips on the back on your neck.

You fondled the pendant with your fingers, the metal already warming against your heated skin, the scale heavy and smooth. Charlie came back around to the front, eyes lighting up at the sight of your smile.

“Merry Christmas, my love,” he hummed, wiping a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

You grabbed his collar and pulled him in for a kiss. “Merry Christmas, Charlie.”

Thank you so much for reading!! (and if you have anything you'd like to read for Charlie, my asks are open!)

[grandline-fics]

Can I just say I LOVE your writting? 'cause I do! And I'm so happy requests are open! 🥹 Here I am wondering if you can indulge little old me with a request. I went through your prompts and picked two! If you can combine them, I'd be delighted! If not, it's okay!

Here:

Jealousy fuelled kiss with the sentence:

"Do you have any idea how much I want to kiss you right now?"

My request is a Fem reader and I would love to read Ace, Zoro and Law, if you don't mind! Throw in more if you'd like, I always love me some feral Kid, for instance... But whatever tickles your fancy! I just like some jealous boys! 🤭😋

Thank you again for sharing your gift! 🫶🏻❤️

DESCRIPTION: Prompt: Jealousy fuelled kiss w/ “Do you have any idea how much I want to kiss you right now?”

WARNINGS: jealousy! but nothing else apart from that

CHARACTERS: Ace, Zoro, Law, Kid, Rob Lucci

WORDS: 3,531

A/N: Thank you for this request! I added Kid for you and also did one for Lucci because why not haha. I tried to make each scenario different and interesting and I hope you like what I came up with.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

———————

ACE

“Do you have any idea how much I want to kiss you right now?” You looked over in the mirror in front of you to see Ace appear in the doorway, arms folded and pout heavy on his lips. You let out a satisfied laugh and finished getting ready for a night out on the island the Moby Dick had just docked at. As you adjusted your outfit-the one Ace loved you in the most- you noticed how his hands twitched. You could tell he wanted nothing more than to close the distance and do exactly what he’d just confessed and ordinarily you would have let him. However tonight was different and Ace only had himself to blame. Earlier in the evening just before you’d gone to get ready you made a comment about hoping Ace wouldn’t be as flirtatious with the locals this time. He in turn responded with an idle wave of his hand and a comment that. “It’s just harmless babe, you know you’re the only one I want.”

While you knew that was true, the fact that Ace hadn’t even taken a second to consider how you felt was what annoyed you. You weren’t even asking him to stop flirting with others since it sometimes worked in the crew’s favour, you just wanted him to tone it down a little. So after that comment you’d told Ace that from now until you both returned to the ship you were both to pretend you weren’t a couple and you could also flirt with the locals too. Ace had initially grinned and shrugged, happy to play along since it was only flirting and you’d be his again when you both returned to the ship at the end of the night. His grin dropped though when you reminded him that this meant he wasn’t allowed to kiss or touch you at all.

The harsh reality of the situation hit him hard when it was less than hour had passed in the bar and he could barely concentrate on those he was talking to. Try as he might to be laid back as normal he couldn’t help but have his gaze pulled towards you every time the smallest movement occurred in your direction. You’d drawn plenty attention when you’d arrived and he’d expected it. Ace had always counted himself the luckiest man alive you have been the one you chose and jealousy was a foreign feeling to him so to feel it now was unsettling. Over and over he’d reminded himself that it didn’t mean anything. 

Then he heard you laugh and watched when the person talking to you stepped just a little closer. At the same time, the glass in his hand exploded and he looked at his hand engulfed in fire and slight scorch marks on the table. Ace rose and handed money to the barman to cover the cost of the minor damages before stepping out into the cool air to clear his head. He got as far as the fountain in the town-square and sat down, closing his eyes. “Not as easy to be on the watcher’s side is it?”

Ace turned his head sharply to see you sitting down beside him. Immediately he wasted no time in leaning forward. With his fingers pinching your chin and free hand sliding into your hair he claimed your lips, pulling you dizzyingly into one of the most intense and fiery kisses he’d ever given you. Surprised, you managed to recover and return the kiss with equal fervour while letting your boyfriend dictate the pace until you felt you couldn’t breathe. Finally you reluctantly pulled back just enough to catch your breath while Ace pressed more kisses against your jaw and throat. “Lesson learned.” He rasped against your skin, lifting his head to smirk at you. “Jealousy sucks.”

“I dunno…” you laughed, securing your hands on his shoulder and chest. “Has its uses if I get more kisses like that.”

ZORO

Zoro normally has no problem voicing his own thoughts. Someone’s being a moron? He’ll tell them to shut up and get out of his way. Someone fought fiercely and strong enough to earn his praise? He’ll do so and even make it a point to name something specific he witnessed to ensure them he is being genuine. Zoro prided himself in being upfront and unfortunately he had to call himself a fucking coward. Because he just couldn’t bring himself to tell you how he felt and anytime he considered it, he backed out just as fast. Instead he had to subject himself to the self-inflicted torture of being close with you but not in the way he fully wanted while also trying to convince himself that he only sees you as a friend because at the moment that’s all he can see you being with him.

“That drink say something to piss you off or something?” Zoro glanced out of the corner of his good eye to see Nami appear and lean against the railing he was also using to brace himself against. “You’ve been glaring at it instead of drinking it and I got concerned.”

“Nothin’ to bother yourself about.” He answered gruffly, forcing his gaze to look out at the lower section of the deck and sipped his drink as if to prove her worry wrong. Though now he had to look at the one thing he’d been trying to avoid; you talking and laughing with the others.

“You should just tell them how you feel already.” Nami hummed, her knowing smirk hidden by the rim of her glass. “Better do it soon too before your chance disappears.”

“Dunno what you’re talking about.” Zoro tried to sound casual but her second remark had made him tense. “Definitely don’t know what you mean about my chance either.”

“Oh please, most of us know you have a feelings for them, we’re just shocked you never made a move yet.” Nami kept her gaze steady on the swordsman, trying to get him to finally see sense. “But now Sanji’s patience has run out. Says if you’re going to be such a coward about it all he’ll finally do what he’s wanted to for ages.”

“Hah!?” Zoro shouted a little too loudly, even drawing the attention of the group below. You looked up at Zoro curiously, watching as he abruptly looked away from the collective stare to focus on Nami with a harsh stare, turning his body slightly to face her. “What’s that shit cook think he’s planning? When the fuck did he call me a coward? I’m gonna slice his smug face off.”

“Wow…for a second there I’d think you were jealous at the thought of them actually falling for Sanji’s charm.” Zoro scoffed and rolled his eyes. The only charm the cook had in his opinion would barely fill a thimble. There was no way you’d fall for that over the top, dramatic, overused nonsense that he threw at anyone with a pulse. Would you? 

Cautiously Zoro looked down at the scene again and his face contorted in disgust to see Sanji’s arm loosely over your shoulder as the two of you laughed at something Usopp was telling the group. Feeling his stare, Sanji glanced up and smirked at Zoro, lightly squeezing your shoulder in affection to you but in also brazen challenge to Zoro. Sharply Zoro turned on his heel and walked down the small staircase, approaching you silently. You looked up at Zoro with a smile, excited that he was finally going to join you all but your smile lessened and became a look of concern to see how serious he was. You were about to ask if he was okay but he spoke first. “I need to talk to you in private.”

Immediately you got to your feet. You knew Zoro well enough to understand he was a man of few words and if he needed to speak to you in private then it was serious. Silently you followed him below deck, only stopping when he felt he was a safe enough distance away from the nosy crewmates left above. You let the seconds tick by, allowing Zoro take his time in voicing his thoughts but seeing him so tense made you worry. Gently you lay your hand on his arm in a way to reassure him that you were there. A gasp left you as Zoro turned suddenly and pulled you against him. His hand fell to your waist as he stared at your parted lips with growing hunger.

“Do you have any idea how much I want to kiss you right now?” The words dropped from his mouth barely a whisper but he was so close each syllable lightly grazed your skin. Unable to speak you could only nod in consent and sank headlong into the kiss Zoro secured on your lips.

LAW

When Law was captivated by his research, medical procedures, and all over Captain duties, you had to take it upon yourself to keep yourself busy. Normally that was no issue when you were on the Polar Tang and had your own duties and routine to occupy your mind with. This time was different. After running into the Strawhat crew on Punk Hazard you could only sit back and watch as Law proposed an alliance with the rival crew in order to take down one of the four Emperors. You’d been taken by surprise seeing as your Captain and boyfriend didn’t tend to play well with others who weren’t on his crew. Quickly you saw him begin to regret his offer when events began to unfold and Law found himself being dragged along by Strawhat’s whims rather than his planned course of action. 

Everything had worked out in the end though and now you and Law were on the Thousand Sunny, set for Dressrosa. Even though Law wasn’t on his own ship, he quickly made himself at home in the ship’s library and began to indulge in the large collection of books now at his disposal. Knowing you wouldn’t see him anytime soon you had to explore the ship for something to catch your attention since according to the allied crew you were a guest on board and didn’t need to do chores. It went against your nature. You wanted to help and be useful so you still offered each day you were on board. “Aren’t you tired wearing that all the time?”

You turned at the sound of Nami’s voice and immediately you looked down at your boiler suit. It was your normal clothing for the Polar Tang so you really hadn’t considered wearing anything else. Plus being on another crew’s ship it made you feel more at home, unable to stop yourself from missing the others that you knew you would reunite with at some stage. Casually you shrugged and smiled at the red-haired woman. “It’s comfy.”

Apparently that wasn’t a good enough answer because the next thing you knew, Nami had you dragged to her room and was throwing clothes at you to try on while telling you that you were far too good looking to hide everything under so much fabric. Mostly you went along with her whims because it would be a way of taking up your unending free time on the ship. Another part of you also got drawn into how nice some of the clothes felt and looked and it was harmless fun.

Law finally dragged himself from his spot in the library and stretched out his stiff limbs. Despite his medical knowledge, he still ended up sitting in the most unwise positions that would leave his back aching and neck tensed. With a groan he made his way out onto the deck only to stagger to a halt when he saw you wearing something completely different to what he was used to you wearing but he was in no way complaining. He loved how you looked regardless but you were breathtaking. His adoration for you was suddenly soured when he saw the others fawning over you. The cook he had no issue with, but to see the sniper blushing and even the swordsman openly talking to you made him glare. Then Strawhat had to push his luck too. “You’re so great! You know you should stay on my crew!”

Law’s room activated and you were promptly swapped to now be pressed close against Law’s side. Before you could reprimand your boyfriend for being rude you were pulled below deck to the library once more and pushed against the door as it closed. You looked up at Law with widened eyes and quickened heart rate, the look in his eyes making your mouth dry and skin warm.

“It’s bad enough that I see you looking so good. I mean do you have any idea how much I want to kiss you right now?” He began lowly and you shuddered slightly. “But then I have to see them trying to get too close to you and Strawhat thinking he’s worthy of having you? Ridiculous.”

Law quickly closed the distance, using his frustration and jealousy to spur him on, kissing you passionately.

KID

Kid had no problem with people looking at you appreciatively. I mean, why wouldn’t they? Look at you. It was clear to anyone with any sense in their skulls that you were one of the hottest people about. For him to see the looks you deserved filled him with a smug sense of pride because you only had eyes for him. He was the lucky bastard that got you all to himself in the ways that it mattered. So they could take their pathetic glimpses and live with the fantasy of picturing what it was like to be with you because he got the real thing. However what he didn’t like was to watch anyone to touch you in a way that wasn’t friendly. 

On this occasion he sat in the darkened corner of a bar having to watch as you were being talked to by some drunken lech. You’d gone to the bar to collect the next round of drinks for the crew when someone approached. At first Kid had shook his head and smirked at the poor fool’s attempt to flirt but then he drew too close to you that Kid disliked. Still he knew you could handle yourself so he just had to grind his teeth and wait for you to expertly disengage yourself like you normally did. However you seemed drawn into the conversation with this man and Kid’s eyes narrowed. 

Immediately he stood with the intent on breaking things up but stopped when you quickly met his gaze. When the drunk turned his head to order another drink you had time to mouth ‘Marine’ to your boyfriend. Kid remained standing and glanced at the man warily, now seeing why you were being careful with him. Slowly he drew closer, making sure his movements were careful and silent while you kept the Marine’s attention effortlessly. Kid knew it was an act but seeing you indulge the man more made his anger grow. Just as Kid stepped behind the Marine, he drunk set his hand on your thigh and squeezed it while leaning closer to your face. “Do you have any idea how much I want to kiss you right now?”

Kid had planned to just give the bastard one quick hit to knock him out but seeing that and hearing the words spill from his mouth, he snapped. Reeling his metal arm back, he tapped the Marine on the shoulder. When he turned, his hulking fist connected with the man’s face sending him launching off his feet and slamming painfully against the bar’s wall with the impact smashing the glasses and bottles. Seeing the Marine slumped on the floor helped Kid’s pent up rage but it wasn’t enough. Quickly he grinned at you and pulled you into his arms so he could throw you over his shoulder and leave the bar, no longer in the mood to drink. You stayed happily on Kid’s broad shoulder with a growing smirk as you listened to his jealous mutterings the closer you drew to the ship. 

When you were finally set on your feet on the ship you turned in Kid’s hold that he refused to let you out of and smiled up at him expectantly. When Kid got like this you could practically time the sequence of events and this was your favourite part. Kid stooped down and with a low groan kissed you, devouring your taste and consuming your thoughts with only him while letting your magnetic presence and intoxicating touch leave him wanting more. You were the only one for him and by the morning should anyone look your way in appreciation again they’d spot some pretty marks on your neck to admire too.

LUCCI

Lucci was a master of his emotions for the most part. He could adopt a personality and live it perfectly for the purposes of a mission and then discard it when it was finished. He could keep his true nature at bay should he need it but in the freedom of Cipher Pol’s base he can just be himself. With powerful strides he walks down the corridors only to stop outside one of the training rooms in time to see you land a kick against Jabra’s stomach. Quickly he recovered and sent an attack your way. You managed to dodge it in time but Jabra caught you by surprise by sending a followup attack and knocked you to the ground, his hand at your throat to keep you pinned down.

For a moment you let your body go slack in a sign of surrender and the second you felt Jabra’s grip loosen you acted, disentangling out of his hold and attacked, taking advantage of his moment of surprise. Just as you were getting into the rhythm of the fight another agent appeared beside Lucci. “Jabra! We have a mission! Did you forget or something?”

You and Jabra paused your fight and you scowled at your sparring partner. You wouldn't have asked him to train with you had you known he would have to cut it short for a mission that he apparently knew about. Jabra briefly glanced at Lucci and quickly threw his arm around your waist before answering his mission partner. “Nah, didn’t forget. I just got a much better offer.” his wolfish grin spreading when he spotted Lucci’s eyes narrow at the comment. You however rolled your eyes and stepped out of the older agent’s hold. “We’ll pick this up when I get back, right?”

“We’ll see.” You told him dismissively which only earned you a quick wink before he left, leaving you alone in the training room with Lucci who remained leaning against the door, looking at his shoulder in disgust when Jabra had the nerve to brush past him on his exit.

“Didn’t know your standards were so low when picking a sparring partner.” He noted, watching you critically. You tilted your head at him curiously and slowly smirked. 

“I’ll be fighting degenerates and unsavoury people out in the field, I wanted someone as close to that as possible for authentic training purproses.” You explained with a light shrug. “Jabra fits that closely, don't you think?”

Lucci allowed himself a low chuckle and pushed away from the doorframe, while pulling the door closed behind him to grant you both a moment of privacy. Your relationship with Lucci was one ou both didn’t feel like putting a real label on. For now you merely enjoyed the physical and social benefits it brought. You remained still as you watched him approach, your eyes alight with interest and mischief that not even he could find himself immune to. “I can see the logic but I can smell that filthy mutt all over you.”

“Jealous?"

“I don't get jealous.” Lucci growled, his hand setting on your waist, merely a coincidence that his hand covered the precise spot Jabra had touched. Your lips twitched into a disbelieving smile and you playfully nodded, pretending to accept his claim. Lucci’s free hand reached up to skim along your throat, again pure coincidence at the placement before he curled his fingers under your jaw to coax you to tilt your head up. “Do you have any idea how much I want to kiss you right now to get rid of that mutt’s stench?”

“Then do it, Chief.” You said stepping a tiny bit closer. “Let Jabra come back and know for sure that I’m a cat person.” 

With a growl Lucci kissed you possessively, hungrily with purpose of doing just as you suggested. His main goal was to wipe any lingering trace of Jabra from your skin and wipe the other man’s name from your mind. He was very aware that you didn’t see the wolf man that way but still it brought out that animalistic conflict in him, the need to be better than him and from your reactions to his kiss he knew for sure that Lucci was the clear winner.

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[ericshoney]

Quen's Sister ~ Chris Sturniolo

Summary: When Quen does her video with the Sturniolo triplets, you always appear as a special guest. Chris finds you funny and asks for your number.

Warnings: swearing, flirting, rizz chat 😅, chaos, fluff

a/n: never thought i'd put rizz chat in my stories 😂

Based off these requests

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Today Quen was recording another video about feeding starving influencers. You loved the idea and often appeared as a special guest in each video. You were two years younger than your sister and were well known amongst her fandom, as you appeared in her videos, TikToks and occasionally did your own.

You sat on the sofa, waiting for whoever was turning up. Yeah, Quen hadn't told you who she was collabing with today. But she did say you knew them. You originally thought maybe Larray was coming over again, but she said it wasn't him.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Quen shouted for you to open it as she set up some cameras. You laughed and went to the door, opening it to see the Sturniolo triplets.

"Hey!" You called, making the three smile.

"Hey Y/n, right?" Nick called.

"Yeah. Quen's in the kitchen." You replied, opening the door so they could walk in.

The three smiled as they came in and went to greet Quen. She said her hellos and then looked to you.

"Surprise." She said, making you laugh.

"What's a surprise?" Matt asked.

"Y/n's watched your videos for years, it was her idea for you to come today." Quen answered.

"Oh cool! Chris watches your TikTok's." Nick replied.

"Nick!" Chris shouted, slapping his brother on the shoulder.

You smiled and laughed softly. Quen smiled but didn't say anything.

"Shall we start?" Quen suggested.

They guys nodded as they started recording an intro. You then joined in as the regular special guest. You jumped in and cheered loudly making the group laugh. Quen then started to talk about what you were cooking, which you learned was Matt's suggestion.

When you all started cooking, you asked the guys various questions. That being your main part in the video.

"So what's the hardest part in working together?" You asked.

"Mainly just all being together for ideas, like merch drops. Like I'll get a message I need to share with Nick and Matt, but Nick might be in the shower or Matt is out." Chris answered.

"That makes sense, but even with all the silly arguments you have, it either over french toast, pancakes or waffles, it must be fun filming with your brothers." You replied.

The guys laughed, Nick groaning slightly, as Quen looked a bit confused. You said you would show her the video later.

"Can I ask you a question?" Chris asked.

"You just did, but go ahead." You replied.

"Kid throwing the bad jokes in there." Matt said with a laugh.

"When did you start watching our videos?" Chris asked.

"Well as Quen said earlier. Years. Probably just after you started posting on YouTube." You answered.

"Damn okay! OG fan!" Chris exclaimed.

You smiled as they continued cooking. You watched a bit and couldn't help but laugh as Matt screamed at Miso who walked in to see what was going on.

"Hi Miso." You cooed to the cat, she purred as she brushed up against her leg before wandering off again.

"Where is the rest of your body!" Nick shouted.

You then helped Matt with the pancakes, seeing it had turned out like a dough and not a batter. He was trying to read the box for any help.

"Dude it's not going to work, the damage is done." You said.

He laughed as Nick came over to help. You stepped back and saw Miso now on the counter and Chris fussing her.

"Miso doesn't like anyone." Quen mentioned.

"Really, she came up to me like this." He replied, mimicking what the cat did.

"It's probably because you didn't insult her body and haircut." You said, making him laugh loudly.

"I'm sorry your sister has a demogorgon as a fucking cat!" Nick shouted.

"Hey I just asked if the grooming was free." Matt said, putting his hands up.

You laughed as Miso ran off again. Chris smiled down at you, which sent butterflies to your stomach. You smiled back as he went to help Nick.

Quen then asked the guys some questions as you helped cut some of the potatoes. Quen started talking about fan edits and Matt's answer made you laugh loudly at how simple but honest it was.

"I get where he's coming from and I don't even fucking have as many fans as you all do." You said.

"You have a good following!" Chris cheered.

"Yeah I guess so. But I love just scrolling through TikTok and finding funny videos." You responded.

"Some of them are fucking weird." Quen said.

You laughed and pulled out your phone and showed the guys one of your favourite TikTok's. The three laughed as Quen shook her head.

"Can I get your number?" Chris then blurted out.

Quen, Matt and Nick fell quiet as they shared a look. You smiled and took Chris' phone and put your number in it before saving his in yours.

"Was that rizz chat?" He asked, before bursting out laughing.

You all laughed too the kitchen becoming even more chaotic. All of you joked about rizz and how kids these days were brain rot.

A while later, with many more jokes, teasing and some decent cooking, you all had a plate full of food. You dug in, happily eating and praised the guys cooking skills before finally wrapping up the video.

"That was a fun video." Matt said.

"Yeah the fans are going to have so much fun." Nick added.

"Especially over your flirting." Quen added, pointing between you and Chris.

Neither of you said anything but shared a look, smiling wide at each other. The guys then said their goodbyes, Nick and Matt giving you a friendly hug.

"Do you um maybe wanna hang out sometime?" Chris then asked you.

"I'd love too." You said, smiling.

"Awesome. I'll text you." He replied, also smiling.

You said bye, hugging him as well, Nick and Matt dragging him out the door, which made you laugh. He waved as they got in the car and drove off. Quen gave you a knowing smile.

"You like Chris and he likes you." She said.

"Maybe." You said, sitting on the sofa and scrolling through your phone.

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Tags:

@lgbtq-girl @mattsfavbigtitties @onelesslonelygirlbieber6 @riowritesitall @sturniolo-fann

[heartfullofleeches]

Reader has a small child and they need to step out for a while so they ask Blacksmith to babysit??

(It's Reader's niece, but that's close enough to a child of their own)

Dressing yourself for work, a car pulls up outside your house as you slip on your shoes, heading for the front door. That's funny- You didn't ask anyone for a ride...

"Oh, crap!"

Lights flicker and walls quake as thunderous footsteps channel through your living room. You scramble to catch a snow globe gifted to you by your boss as a shadow appears in the doorway.

"My lord? I ask of your forgiveness for disobeying your direct order to stay inside your bedroom- You sound troubled which left me no choice but to disobey. Shall I take care of the threat for you?"

You fling yourself in front of the front door as the Blacksmith marches towards it, hand firmly latched to the dagger strapped to their belt.

"NO!..." Sucking air through your teeth, you reiterate. "No, it's nothing like that. I forgot I'm supposed to babysit my niece today... Do you think you can watch her? I can't miss another day of work...

"Since the child needs supervision I assume they are a little one, correct?" The Blacksmith runs the tips of its fingers down the length of his iron mask. "I would move mountains for you, My Lord, however I must express my concerns with my...appearance. I would hate to frighten a child. Especially one close to you."

Unlocking the front door, you wave off their insecurities. "Nah, she'll love you! That girl's braver than me sometimes. You should've seen her on her first Halloween. Just wait here and I'll go grab her."

Stepping outside, the high pitched squeals of your niece are the first sounds to greet you as you walk over to your siblings car. She squirms in her car seat, making grabs for you as you chat with your siblings before turning your attention to her - unbuckling the straps of her seat.

"There's somebody I'd like you to meet today. Keep this a secret between us, okay?"

Your niece giggles as you pick her up, waving goodbye to her parent as you carry her back inside your house.

"Blacksmith, this is my niece. She already has breakfast so she shouldn't get hungry before I get back, but if she does there's some snacks in the pantry."

The instance your niece lays eyes on your housemate you're suddenly no longer her favorite person. The Blacksmith looks to you, eyes glimmering with unease through the slits of his mask as the child reaches out for them.

"Go on. She's harmless."

The Blacksmith, is not, yet they approach the child with the same delicate nature one might have when aiding a small kitten. The combination of the innocence of youth and this child being a member of your bloodline sanctifies her place as royalty in his eyes.

The two gaze at each other for what feels like eons, the jiggle of your house keys breaking the unusual moment of silence.

"See? You guys are getting along already! I'll be back before you know it- Oh, and Blacksmith? Keep my niece away from all the medieval torture devices and weapons you have shoved in my closet."

The Blacksmith feigns ignorance as he takes one of your niece's tiny hands in theirs. "I haven't the slightest idea what they are talking about. Since I am forbidden from giving you a dagger of your own, what say we get you some of those "snacks" your relative spoke of?"

Your niece seems to agree with that idea greatly- clapping along as the Blacksmith turns towards the kitchen.

"Well... Aren't you just a ray of sunshine? It would be a blessing to have a little one like you around permanently. I wonder if my lord would be open to the thought of us having a few."