#madhouse fic

[andthebubbles]

i have four WIPs and at 11.13pm they have all stopped looking appealing:

- the madhouse fic (kathony, 1808, (pretty huge?) canon divergence)

- benedict the artist (a&b, modern AU)

- kathony parliament bill (if shonda can get rid of racism, then i too can make homosexuality legal)

- anthony + francesca + piano (just because i wanted to see anthony playing (or trying to play lol) the piano (and then i discovered that twinkle didn’t exist in the form that we know it yet, and für elise was written in 1810, and this fic is set in 1809... 😂)) (<- i was working on this one today!)

anyway i’m just writing this because for the past few days i was starting new fics whenever i didn’t feel like working on my existing fics, and now... we have a horde. but so far it’s a good horde.

i think i might wanna try have another go at the madhouse fic soon. i think/hope that once i get past this first meeting between kate and anthony, it might go smoother... maaaybe. at least for a little while. i have an urge to like, write some poor little meow meow anthony, so...

[astralnymphh]

madhouse murdercide | masterlist

— a tense saga wrung between two tenderhooks of carnality and carnage ♡

♯┆ enemies to lovers | ellie x reader.ᐟ ★

warning; this novel oversees the elements of bloodshed, paranoia, intent to murder, sense of no escape, gory scenes, disembodied presences, grudge-fed hatred, thick tensions one may choke on, and unearthing how rife with roses the path bridging you and ellie truthfully is. reader discretion is heavily advised. ꪆৎ

MASTERLIST . DAILY CLICK . READ THIS . PALESTINE MP

chapters; to be estimated!

fanart and teasers are being made! (pls lmk who the photographer of the ellie photo is in the header!)

please comment/reblog this post to be a part of the taglist! if you are on my perm taglist you will be tagged anyways! bright blessings ⊹₊⋆

[aotearoa20]

“I do not deserve you.”

Melian turned to her husband, sitting of the new bed of the palace they had been building for the past decade. It is not often he speaks so quiet, nor seems so small.

“I could create the greatest kingdom in all of Elvenesse and would not be worthy you. I can’t give you what you deserve”

She sighs, though her smile is fond. When she wanders to the window he follows her. Outside his people, theirs, she reminds herself with joy in her heart, sit in the great courtyard. They sing and laugh, rejoicing in the twilight of the work their hands had built. The city grows more beautiful each passing day.

But when she turns to her husband there is only discontent on his face.

“You deserve the light of Aman,” she says, studying how his brow furrows ever so slightly, “You deserve Arda as it was unmarred before Melkor. At the very least the safety and joy of the Valinor. And yet that way is closed to you now.”

Because of me. She doesn’t say the words but they linger in air between them. He looks as though he would to protest but she shakes her head. Speaking in the way of her people, without words. When he is satisfied she continues.

“If it was offered to you now? Would you leave these shores?”

He blinks, glancing to the city below. His expression softens as he looks across it.

“No.” He says at last, “This is my home. I- ”

“I am happy here.” She steals his words and makes them her own

His eyes widen as she smiles. He looks upon her in wonder, would that he knew how often she did the same.

“Do you understand, my love?”

“I… I am trying”

She hums softly and the wind sings with her, pulling at the hair of the King so that it flickers in silver waves. Her laughs fills the air about them with unbridled joy as she brushes it out of his, too solemn, face.

“And I am patient,” she replies

“I love you.”

Melian answers in the way of the Firstborn, pressing her lips against his and pulling him into her embrace. Outside the birds sang and the people of Thingol cheered, teasing and joyful as they watched their King on the balcony above.

[silviaflowers]

my cryptid crush hyperfixation is coming back

now i wanna write a fic for it BUT ALSO I HAVE SLAUGHTER DRONE STUFF IN THE WORKS

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[shiocreator]

I name my docs titles very normal things

Fair enough

[keyotos]

i am absolutely in love with ur writing AND with gepard landau,, can i request a first kiss fic for him? i read your kiss the girl fic for dan heng and ITS SO GOOD!! tysm in advance, take care of yourself!

teenage dream

summary ⎯ gepard knows he can't keep these feelings to himself. gepard also knows that he can never tell you about how he feels. so, he goes to the person he tells all his secrets to: serval. serval, who told pela. pela, who is determined to set you two up. and doing so, entails a bookish adventure for you to enjoy.

tana's words ⎯ i too am in love with gepard. i feel u anon. also thank u for the kind words!

tags ⎯ matchmaking (serval and pela). first kiss. pining (this should be expected). bookish!reader. bookstore owner!reader. oblivious idiots.

IT’S EXTREMELY SURPRISING TO HEAR GEPARD frantically knocking on the doors of nevermore workshop, so serval obviously had to open the doors for him.

when he entered, gepard immediately shut the doors as if he was being followed. the expression on his face was dire; he looked as if he was chased by wolves and he was being hunted down.

“gepard?” serval asked, concern dripping in her tone, “what the hell happened?”

“serval,” gepard panted. serval was getting worried; this was all irregular behavior coming from gepard, “i need help.”

gepard never asked for help. he is one of the most self-sufficient and stubborn people serval knows. he would rather stare death in the face instead of asking someone for help.

“what is it?” serval rushed by his side, “whatever you need, i got you.”

“i think i have feelings for,” gepard sighed, palm dragging across his face, “the owner of the bookstore,” he finishes quietly.

serval’s jaw dropped. it wasn’t because of the declaration of gepard’s crush. it was that he made it sound so dramatic. serval thought that he was being tracked down and was about to be sent to the madhouse.

“are you serious!” serval shoved gepard, “i thought you were about to die or something!”

gepard recoiled at serval’s shove; his sister was stronger than most people thought, “it feels like i am! every time i’m around them my heart rate quickens so much that i think i’m about to have a heart attack. i get all nervous on the inside and i can barely think with them beside me.”

aeons, gepard has definitely fallen in love with you.

“wait⎯so, where are you gonna go from here?” serval leaned on the counter, trying to process all the words her brother confessed.

“that’s the thing,” gepard sighed again. he sounded like a lovesick puppy, “i don’t know. that’s why i came here, i thought you’d be able to help.”

“um. you are aware of my past relationship with cocolia, right? i think i’m like the least qualified person you should be asking romance advice from,” serval pointed out.

“i don’t know who else i could tell,” gepard ran a hand through his hair. this was really stressing him out.

“how about you just… tell them?” serval suggested.

“no!!” gepard shook his head distraughtly, “i can’t do that. what if they don’t feel the same?”

“then it’s not meant to be,” serval said, “simple as that.”

“but it’s not,” gepard whined. serval thought he was making this a lot more complicated than it needed to be. when she was his age, she confessed her feelings to cocolia like it was nothing. they were happy until the break up anyway.

but then it donned on serval. gepard had little to no relationship experience. the only “experience” serval remembers him having was when they were children: his friend had a crush on him and tried to confessed, but gepard rejected her.

that’s why gepard was so distressed. he had no idea how to go on with this. these feelings for you? all new. what he missed out as a teenager, he is now getting as an adult.

“tell you what,” serval wrapped her arm around her brother’s shoulder, “i’ll get this sorted out. trust me. yn will never know about this,” she reassured him.

“you just go along with your guardly duties. i’ll help you,” serval grinned. she knew that she had the perfect plan. except, she couldn’t do it alone.

pela already knew about your crush on the silvermane guard captain. every time he greeted the two of you at the book store, pela practically saw the hearts in your eyes. it was sickening and disgusting, but it was cute too.

what pela didn’t know, however, was that gepard has a crush on you as well.

serval came to pela just a few minutes after gepard’s confession. she knew that she probably shouldn’t have told pela right after the conversation happened, but serval didn’t know how else to console gepard.

“so… you’re telling me that they both like each other?!” serval slammed her hands on the counter. “and they’re both too scared to confess!?”

“that’s exactly what i said, yes,” pela monotonously replied.

you knew that there couldn’t be anything between you and gepard. it was highly improbable that you, a bookstore owner, would be able to gain the captain of the silvermane guard’s interest. it seemed like something straight out of a fictional (key word: fictional) romance novel.

so you appreciated his friendship while he was around. sometimes, as a way to become closer to the captain, you’d suggest different books to him every week. despite being on the front lines quite often, he always comes back to see you. well, he comes back for the books anyway.

serval groaned into her hands, “so what do we do? they both like each other but they literally can’t bear to admit it.”

pela smirked. she’s read enough romance novels to figure out what to do next.

“two words, serval,” pela smirked, “grand. gesture.”

gepard took a few deep breaths before approaching your book store. after his chat with serval, he's been distressed the entire day. he had these feelings for you storming all over his body; occasionally, they'd get so strong that it would feel like those feelings would overtake him.

he opened the door, book in hand, and greeted you formally. gepard couldn't help it: he was so nervous, he wasn't able to function straight.

"hello, captain gepard," you turned around. you were on a latter stacking books on top of bookshelves. originally, you thought it would be cool to have towering shelves, however you quickly learned that it was extremely impractical and difficult.

"i told you," gepard stood near the counter, refusing to slouch in your presence, "you can call me gepard."

"and i told you," you grunted, trying to reach a higher spot on a shelf, "to drop the formalities," you grinned to yourself.

gepard noticed your (potentially) perilous situation and quickly got near the end of the latter. in the case that you fall, at least gepard would be there to catch you.

fortunately, you made your way down the tall latter peacefully. as you descended, the sight of gepard holding down the latter for you made you flush. it was the bare minimum, but it still made your heart speed up.

when he reached out his hand to guide you down (it was out of instinct), you gave him a warm smile. it looked easy on the outside, but you were burning up on the inside. similarly, gepard had the same reaction. for you, he'd do anything.

"thank you," you held onto his hand for a little longer. once you realized what you were doing you quickly recoiled your hand away and apologized. gepard wished your hand was still entwined with his; he wanted to hold onto to the feeling of your hand in his. gepard wanted to trace patterns on your hands, wanted to feel every part of them.

as an attempt to dissipate the tension (it was making you nervous), you decided to ask gepard for help. "we had a busy day yesterday. a best seller recently came out; people were storming the shelves. good for my profit but not good for my sanity," you let out an airy laugh, "would you mind helping me clean up?"

realizing what you just did (asking the captain of the silvermane guards for help) you quickly added, "unless you're busy! then i'll be okay. you can leave. i'll be fine," you rambled.

gepard parted his lips, almost as if he was about to say something. how could you ever think he wouldn't make time for you? even so, he'd deploy a few other guards if you needed help. he'd make sure your needs were met as soon as possible.

he reached his arm out; his hands were close to your collarbone. then he reached back, scared of what would happen next. how silly. the captain of the silvermane guards was not scared of no monster, but of rejection of the one he likes.

"i'll stay for anything," gepard blurted. you were taken aback for a second, but then once you realized what he had just said, you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and covertly pinched yourself to make sure that whatever was happening was not a dream.

gepard didn't intend to add, "anything," to his sentence. but his mind was thinking it, and then it just accidentally came out. he meant what he said though. if the bluntness of his voice didn't show his sincerity, the blush that was slowly grazing his face probably did.

"thank you, gepard," you bit the inside of your lip to keep yourself from beaming too hard. you had to turn away from the captain once again, for your smile at his words would be too embarrassing to show. how silly of you to act so giddy and childish at one simple word.

gepard thinks he could hear you say his name a million times, and he would never get bored. he wants to hear his name on your lips as if it were a mantra; you've said his name a few times before, and each time he swears he gets more and more addicted to the sound.

"how about i start on the right and you'll start on the left. that way, we'll both finish in the middle!" you clapped your hands together. you gave gepard a reassuring smile.

you two started on opposite sides, but how gepard wished that you two would be closer. however, there are positives to this situation. gepard can brainstorm ideas for the "grand gesture" pela and serval texted him about.

gepard already had ideas in mind. he just needed to figure out the material for them. he obviously will not tear out papers from a book; that will cause more harm than good (for you and gepard; he cares about books).

while gepard was planning, you were blushing. you still couldn't believe he actually stayed with you. surely, there are more important deeds than helping out a leisurely bookstore owner. and this was the most boring task ever: organizing books. yet, gepard was still here. and he was only a few feet away from you.

you turned back to observe gepard; you wanted to see if you had trapped him in a boring task or not. to your surprise, gepard seemed to be enjoying this. he would flip through pages of various books, spend time reading the summaries; gepard would even go as far to reading the first few pages of some books.

gepard liked to read. at first, he started coming to the bookstore to fetch some books for pela. however, after he met you, he began to adopt a newfound interest in books that he never had before. he read some of pela's books, discovered that he did not like them, and went to browse for more. that's when you came up. you thought you had talked his entire ear off that entire morning; you went on and on and on about what kind of books he would like.

you tried to ignore him afterwards; you even offered the books for free because you were so embarrassed. but gepard kept coming back. your recommendations impressed him: gepard had never met anyone who was so meticulous at their craft. and he loved hearing you talk. he loved your rambles, your rants, your reviews. maybe that was the first sign.

gepard caught your gaze as he turned around. he had the same motivation as you: he wanted to see how you were faring in this task. did you miss the proximity you had before? are you flustered as well? do you like him too?

you two were both staring at each other, thoughts racing, until you shouted, "see something you like?" to break the tension.

gepard thought the question was a taunt at first; similar to asking, "like what you see?"

"no!" he abruptly shouted, trying to hide the fact that he was just staring at you. and then he realized the real meaning of your question: he was browsing the books with such intensity. the truth was, he was trying to find your favorite books. you've informed him about them before, always on your bookish rants. he was going to use them for his gesture later on.

thinking that he now looks like an idiot, gepard tries to save himself by shouting back, "i mean⎯ yes! i do. these books are nice," he tried to cover up.

you seemed not to register his mistake, as you tell him, "whatever you want, it's on the house. for your work today. it'll be on the house for life!" you put some books on some shelves and move closer to the middle.

gepard shook his head and chuckled, "you've always given books to me for free." he put some books back and continued around the room.

"are you complaining?" you raised an eyebrow, "what if i just kept a tab on you this entire time? and you never knew?" more books get put away.

"then i'd rightfully pay you back," gepard wholeheartedly responded, "or i'd arrest you," he joked.

you mock-gasped, "for what?" you're getting closer to the middle now.

stealing my heart, the intrusive part of gepard's mind thought. he'd been hanging out with serval too much; he would never say that. gepard internally cringed.

"false advertising," he moved closer to the middle, “i don't know," he smiled to himself. gepard doesn't think he would have the heart to arrest you.

you blushed at hearing the captain lost on amendments. the captain wouldn't know how to arrest you. is this flirting? or are you reading too much into it?

you don't know if the heat on the back of your neck is from gepard's words or the sun shining so brightly on the back of your neck. you stack some more books on shelves; you've now reached the middle. you're having trouble reaching one of the shelves, but you're too lost in your thoughts to even think about that.

in fact, you're too lost in your thoughts that you don't even notice the warmth disappear from the back of your neck. your cheeks are still warm, so you are still blushing. your struggles with the tall bookshelf are lost when you feel a hand over yours.

"i'll take that," gepard quietly mumbles. it's so quiet that you didn't hear it at first.

on instinct, you turn towards him. when you looked at the position the both of you were in, you noticed that you were caged against him. you were caged against the captain of the silvermane guards. against a bookshelf.

gepard towered over you. his body was centimeters closer to fully pressing on you. his breath was fanning on your face. you could see every detail of his face from your view from below. your hands were so close to grazing his chest, so you immediately slapped them to your sides. you gulp, you start to breath quicker, and you feel like you're about to combust.

you swallowed, trying not to move. you were frozen in place as you tried not to disturb gepard. you gaped at him as he was working to organize the books, not noticing the position the two of you were in.

when gepard finished, he gave a sigh of relief. he underestimated your job: if you had to do this every day, you were probably stronger than some of his soldiers. when he opened his eyes, he was greeted by your wide eyes staring right into his.

he was breath-taken by your beauty. the look in your eyes as you look into his was captivating. gepard needed it framed. the way your lips parted made him go feral; his heart stuttered with every second he looked at you.

his arm was pinned above your head. your bodies were so close that you kept focusing on the rise and fall of gepard’s chest. the way his expression scanned yours made you want to quiver against him.

you said the first sentence, “hard work?” your tone was breathless. you were still trying to catch your breath.

“yeah,” he sighed, still not noticing the way your bodies curved into each other, “hard work.”

“did i waste your time?” you whispered. it was quiet, like you were ashamed of your actions. you looked down at his chest rather than his face.

“no,” gepard leaned in, trying to hear your voice one more time. he tilted your head up slightly with his fingers so you could look at him, “you’d never.”

silence crippled the room. it was just you and gepard, the two of you leaning oh-so-close together that your lips were nearly about to touch. a part of you wanted to lean into him; you wanted to pull him closer and closer until you were both out of breath.

but that was delusional. that was something straight out of romance novels, and your life was anything but.

gepard leaned in closer on purpose. he gave into temptation and wanted to feel your lips on his. he wanted to grab you by the waist and pull you so tightly into him. he wanted this: he wanted your kiss, he wanted your insight, he wanted you.

but with gepard, want is not something one could have. especially one like him.

“i’m sorry,” he abruptly let go, “i’m⎯i think, i have something i need to do,” he took a few steps back away from you, leaving about three feet in distance. quite the opposite from how you two were positioned a few seconds ago.

“oh,” you let go immediately. “i’m sorry! i didn’t know,” you quickly ran to the other side of the room. you wanted to hide from embarrassment.

“not your fault!” gepard shouted as he headed for the exit, “goodbye mx yn!”

you didn’t bother to say goodbye as you slammed the door shut after he left. what just happened was mortifying. the position you two were in? the way you two gradually leaned closer to each other? no wonder he ran away, you thought, you must’ve scared him off.

oh, if only you knew how wrong you were.

you didn't see gepard for a week after the incident. he hadn't come into the bookstore at all the entire week. however, that also could've been your fault: you've been in and out of the bookstore for the past week. if you faced gepard after the incident (you've dubbed), you'd probably apologize and beg for forgiveness.

but still, wouldn't he come in and leave a note? wouldn't he at least stop by once? did you scare him off that badly? the more you thought about it, the more you thought about becoming a hermit.

you'd thought you terrified him and ruined your friendship (and any future hope of a relationship) until flowers appeared on the counter of the bookstore. your assistant refused to let you know who they were from.

you bent down and eyed the pot of flowers sitting on the counter. they were your favorite color: pink. you had to admit, they were gorgeous. they looked well grown, as if these were from a master gardener. the flowers bloomed perfectly, each petal reaching out for the sun.

the message of the flowers also intrigued you. begonias are the flowers that symbolizes knowledge and deep thoughts. whoever gifted these to you must have been very observant or they wanted to be your intern.

"did someone come by asking to be my intern?" you stood up and put your hands on your hips. your lip twisted in thought. you were a bit preoccupied at the moment; the bookstore was getting exceptionally busy and (with your whole gepard crisis going on) you didn't think you were fit to be a mentor at the moment.

"no," your assistant shook her head. you leaned back on the counter, wondering why (and who) would gift you flowers on such a strange day. you already knew it wasn't gepard, due to the awkward tension surrounding the both of you right now, so you had a big list to narrow down.

"but," your assistant continued, "someone dropped off this letter with the flowers. they told me to give it to you after you saw the flowers," your assistant handed you the letter.

it was very formal, the letter. it's envelope was very extravagant, fit for someone with high standards. the stamp was still warm, meaning that this letter had been written recently. you tore open the envelope to reveal it's contents.

yn,

please do me the honor of accompanying me to everwinter cafe tonight. i would really appreciate seeing you there.

gl

"g.l." you paused, "as in green lantern?!" you asked your assistant, wide eyes and all. "who is trying to cosplay as a superhero to talk to me? this is insane. did i owe someone a book or something? charged them extra?" you panicked.

your assistant frowned at your idiocy. who else could 'gl' entail to besides gepard landau? "what if it's the captain," your assistant urged on, nudging your shoulder.

"it couldn't be the captain," you jolted. does your assistant know? "we barely even talk," you try to reason.

"he comes in here nearly every day," your assistant counters, "if not every day, be it every other day," they sighed.

"he just comes in to look at books," you placed the flowers in a safe space in the shelves. "we don't converse as often as you think."

"you talk every day," you assistant drags on. "you're telling me that the two of you have no relations whatsoever?"

"we⎯it's complicated," you sighed, "long story short, it could never be the captain," you looked down at the plant. even if it was gepard, what was he doing? sending anonymous flowers? cryptic notes? why couldn't he just talk to you?

"you should go," your assistant encouraged, "you never know. it could be the captain or it could be another potential secret admirer."

"you think?" you raised an eyebrow. your assistant nodded in response.

you looked at the flowers one more time. though you wished it was gepard who sent them, you knew it was probably someone else trying to flatter you into taking them in as an intern. but as you stared at the begonias, no other thoughts beside gepard consumed your mind

it was late when you walked to everwinter cafe. tonight was not a particularly chilly night, but belobog's slight chill was ever present.

you walked around aimlessly, trying to walk slowly so you can prolong the sight of your "intern." you tried to focus on other things as you walked past, such as the plants and heaters surrounding the city. it's wondrous how things such as plants are still able to flourish in times like these.

as you viewed your surroundings, you saw a note placed on a lamppost close to the cafe. it read, "'i know you're working. i wanted to be somewhere...' safe? familiar? comfortable? 'near you.'

you automatically knew which book that quote was from. book lovers by emily henry. it was your favorite romance book; you've raved about it many times with gepard.

as you continued, you saw another note, "'if you saw yourself the way other people see you, you'd never doubt again.' 'how do people see me?' 'like you're the most beautiful, most remarkable, thing they've ever seen."

you must admit, you blushed a little bit while internally reading that. the only reason you blushed was that because you discussed that quote with gepard. you were talking about the 'twisted' series and how it had it's pros and cons with gepard, and this quote was one of the pros.

another read, "'who are they? the best part of my day.'"

another, "books she has found, are a way to live a thousand lives."

and the last, "'favorite word?' 'you.'"

you quickly noticed that these were all quotes from your favorite books. these are books you've only discussed and rambled about with one person: gepard. you'd never thought he would've actually read these books. let alone, you'd never thought gepard would also quote them.

with slightly more hope than before, you ran up to everwinter cafe.

"did you get my message?" gepard stood tall in front of you. you couldn't look into his eyes and it was killing him.

"your letter? yes, i did. and your flowers too. they were beautiful," you rocked back and forth on your heels.

"thank you, i grew them myself," he gave you a soft smile. you wanted to talk about how he managed to even grow such beautiful flowers, but how could you talk to him if you couldn't even look at him in the eyes? "but, did you get my message?"

you looked down at the many notes in your hand. it turns out gepard had left notes after all, "oh yes. i did," you blushed at the obvious context of the quotes. "all my favorite books."

"yeah," gepard spoke breathlessly, as if all of his air had run out after he started speaking to you, "but did you get my message?" he looked at your face for any type of indication: whether you liked him back, hated him, or had no strong feelings towards him. his eyes darted throughout your face, and the sight made you slightly flustered. he was leaning over you, and you thought you saw his eyes graze over your lips.

then it donned on you. the flowers. the letter. the sneaking out at night. the romantic context of all the quotes. the way all the quotes were from your favorite books that you've only talked about with him. the way gepard has admired and remembered every single thing about you. your stomach dropped as you realized gepard had been feeling the same things you have felt for him this entire time. your heart pounded in your chest as you finally met his eyes in the pale moonlight.

"yes," you swiftly exhaled. it was like all your hidden feelings for gepard were compacted in your chest, and when you finally breathed, they were all let out. it was like all your troubles were leaving you, "i did."

"and..." gepard trailed off, now failing to meet you in the eyes. he was terrified of your rejection; your opinion was one of the things that mattered most to him. before, he regarded it was his passion for the people, but now he recognizes that he was just passionate for you. "did you like it?"

"i loved it," you smiled; it wasn't just a soft smile this time, like the ones you've always given him. it was a big smile: loud and talkative, much like you. one smile could convey so much.

but you still had thoughts, "i didn't need all of this though," you grabbed his hand for reassurance. you were in range of his lips. you could close the gap right now.

gepard froze; your words and your touch made him tense. he was finally able to look you in the eye, having prepared himself for iminent rejection and was ready to leave. whatever you needed, he would do.

"what do you need?" gepard asked frantically. "whatever you need, i will give it to you. whether it be space or never seeing me again."

what you needed? you needed his thoughts, his opinions, his reassurance. you needed his touch on a cold night, you needed his arm around you when you were cold, you needed to feel him beside you on nights similar to this. you needed everything that he was.

"i need you," you whispered up on his lips. "right now."

and gepard swore the entirety of everwinter city heard his heart drop to the ground. he was sure that you could feel his heart pounding in his chest after you said those five words. only five words, yet gepard felt like he was going insane. he was going insane for you: your touch, your mind, your words, your entirety.

gepard removed his hand from yours for just one second, using it to tip your chin up so you could be in his view. in the pale moonlight, you were gorgeous. to be fair, you were always gorgeous, but something about tonight extenuated your beauty.

"can i⎯"

"don't even ask," you cut him off, leaning into him.

the kiss was soft and sweet at first. the feeling of your lips pressed onto his was heavenly: gepard felt ten times stronger with you than with anything else. it was gentle and tender.

but when you tugged your arms around his neck, all restraint went out the window.

gepard moved his hand from your chin to your waist, pulling you closer into him. it was bold for his first kiss, but who could blame him when you're holding onto to him so tightly?

you threaded your hands through his hair as he kissed you feverishly. his hands on your waist made you want to combust into him. you were standing on your toes at this point; if you tried to stand any taller, gepard was about to lift you up into the air.

when you finally stopped to breath, all that was left in the air was your love and the light from the sky.

"was i your first kiss?" you asked him coyly, arms still wrapped around his neck.

gepard blushed and you immediately knew his answer to your question. you stood up one more time to give him one more quick kiss.

yes, you were his first kiss. and gepard wished for more to come.

i need a week off after this fic i swear to god

[artemismoorea03]

DP x DC Prompt: I Couldn't Just Let Him Die

So one thing I don't think is touched on enough is the fact that Danny never wanted to be a hero. Like, yeah, we all know he didn't want o be a hero and he makes a joke about it but when we actually think about it this was a life he choose because nobody else was there to help. The main reason?

He didn't want people to get hurt.

Something Batman would relate to.

Now, while I love the idea of Danny absolutely beating the shit out of Joker or any villain who absolutely deserves to have their shit rocked by a kid who is only 5'5" and weighs at most 120 pounds, when we actually think about Danny's character what's more likely? Again, no hate to any of the people who do those fics, keep it up, I love seeing Joker get his just deserts.

But hear me out.

Warnings for fighting, violence, and DC typical weapons.

There was a new meta in Gotham and he was driving Bruce crazy. This kid showed up out of the blue with absolutely no information on him anywhere online or otherwise with tech so outdated not even Oracle could hack it. The only thing Bruce knew about the kid was that he called himself 'Phantom' and that he was a teenager around 14 years old.

Other than that the kid had been a pain in the ass.

Muggings? Phantom took care of it by saving the person then lecturing the person until a Bat or police showed up then literally vanished.

Fires? Phantom would fly in and out of burning buildings repeatedly with no care for his own safety. No mask, no fire protection, nothing but the thin suit he wore.

Kidnappings? Don't worry, Phantom had it handled long before Batman could even get the call to help! EVEN WHEN IT WAS ONE OF HIS OWN KIDS WHO GOT KIDNAPPED!

Granted, Phantom never got in the way of a fight but the amount of evidence that was lost due to what he was doing and how he was doing it was inconvenient. Fingerprints got wiped, evidence of what started fires were covered in an unmeltable ice, kidnappers took off the second their captive was freed and were practically untraceable after that.

It wasn't until a massive Arkham breakout that he actually got to properly meet the kid. Every prisoner had broken out and the city plunged into madness as heroes ran around like chickens with their heads cut off. Villains against heroes, criminals verse vigilantes, villains verses criminals - it was a madhouse.

Batman could hardly keep track of it all but when one of Penguin's men threw a bomb into a crowd and it landed near Joker's feet there was a long silence. It was like the city had fallen silent all around him as Batman tried to get to the bomb.

Joker was a villain.

Joker had hurt his family, killed millions of innocents including his own son, but he was sick. He didn't deserve to die.

Apparently Phantom agreed because he flew faster than Batman could track him shoving Joker away from the bomb before encasing the bomb in ice.

"Hey! What's the big idea shovin' me, bub?!" Joker said, seemingly forgetting about the bomb that was still in the kids hand. Joker walked right up to Phantom, glaring down at the shorter male who just looked at him. "Think you're some kind of hero?!"

Phantom blinked, "I feel like answering that is a trap."

Joker grabbed Phantom by the front of his shirt, "A funny guy, huh? Think you can out joke the Joker?"

"Again. That feels like a trap. I'm not trying to do anything, Clowny. But I wasn't about to let you die."

Joker glared, "Why?"

Phantom slipped out of Joker's hands somehow, much to Joker's confusion. "Because that's not who I am. Criminal or not, I'm not going to let you die if I can protect you."

"Who says I need protection?"

Phantom held up the bomb again with a deadpan look. "Lucky guess." He said, then suddenly noticed something to his right. "Oh, gotta go. Later Clowny."

"IT'S JOKER!" Joker shouted after Phantom as he flew away. "Batman! Teach your baby bats some manners!"

"He's not mine, Joker." Batman said, marching over, grabbing Joker's wrists and cuffing them behind his back.

Not yet anyway. But with a mentality like that... maybe this pain in the ass could learn a thing or two from a Bat.

[thiswaytwoinfinity]

it’s a bad idea, right? - part 1: can’t two people reconnect

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x reader • inspired by sleeping with other people

Warnings: no use of y/n or physical description of reader except they have hair that can be tucked behind their ears, implied smut, this chapter is fine but future installments will be 18+

It’s finally here! Thank you to everyone for being so supportive and patient about this fic; I was dealing with some rough personal stuff and lost all my inspiration but it’s back now and I’m happy to be writing about everyone’s favorite cocky flyboy.

There’s something about a sticky summer night when you’re 22 that makes you feel more alive than you’ve ever been.

It’s the third bar that your new roommates have dragged you to tonight, there’s a cocktail sweating in your hand and the bass from the stereo thudding through your head. You’re not sure if the grin on your face is from the watching all of the wannabe cowboys go flying off the mechanical bull in mere milliseconds or from the possibilities of newfound adulthood laid out in front of you. In this moment, it’s hard to imagine that you were ever scared about moving halfway across the country — away from your family, your hometown and your high school sweetheart who always thought you’d move home after college — to Austin.

In this moment, you feel free. You feel invincible. You feel like this is a night you’ll remember for the rest of your life.

 

“Okay, the bar is a madhouse but I managed to get another round!” Anna shouts as she makes her way back to the table, tossing her long dark hair behind her before plopping the tray of shots down in front of you and your new friends. “And there’s a new rule!”

Everyone groans in unison; Anna loves to make up drinking games, handing out shots and beers with a new rule or bet that is guaranteed to leave someone embarrassed before the night’s over.

“Oh, stop. Shit like this is how we become lifelong best friends, trust me, I read about it online,” she fires back, rolling her eyes and handing shots to you and the three other girls at the table before taking one in hand. “It’s simple. Last one to finish their shot has to ride the mechanical bull.”

“Bitch, are you trying to kill us?” Erin asks, shooting a sideways glance at Katie, who’s eyeing up her shot glass like she’s trying to strategize the best way to drink it. The two of them are sisters — “Irish twins, it’s a whole thing,” Erin explained when you first moved in — are hyper-competitive and curse like sailors. You loved them instantly.

Your tiny hope of not being the one to end up on the bull dies when you look over at Taylor, who managed to throw back her tequila when nobody was watching. “What?!” she asks, curls bobbing in the bun on top of her head as she takes in everyone’s looks of confusion and frustration. “Anna never said we had to start at the same time.”

It’s like a starting pistol went off at the end of her sentence because before you know it, Erin and Katie are both biting into limes while Anna is swallowing down the liquor with a grimace. Shit.

You do your best to catch up but it’s too late. You, the girl who grew up nowhere near Texas and have never actually seen a bull in real life, are going to have to ride one in front of this entire bar.

Years later you won’t remember the details of the bet, how your friends whooped and hollered as you made your way over to the bull with shaky knees or how the operator took pity on you when you immediately slid off and offered you a second try. The song that was playing is lost to time, as is the actual feeling of riding the bull for a whole half second.

What you will remember, though, is sliding across the tarp to rest right by a group of athletic looking guys and the strong, tan hand that reached down to help you stand up.

You’ll remember the backwards Longhorns cap on his head, the way his green eyes flashed with amusement and the blinding white of his smile as he helped you to your feet, hand lingering just a moment too long in yours. You’ll remember the way it felt like someone had set off fireworks inside of you, fingers tingling where they touched his skin and your stomach swooping like you were on a roller coaster.

You’ll remember exactly what he said to you: “Well, that was definitely the most entertaining attempt of the night.”

You giggled, a little dazed by his chiseled features, by the way he seemed to only see you in that moment, by the force of his charisma.

 “I’m Jake. What’s your name, beautiful?”

 

For a Thursday night, the Hard Deck was surprisingly packed.

The Daggers had managed to claim their usual spot by the pool table, but despite their cramped quarters they practically had to shout over the sounds of drunken sailors and the oldies blasting out of the jukebox to be heard. The table next to Bob was crowded with beer bottles, the bespectacled WSO having waved off Penny when she stopped by to clear them, promising the group would clean up after themselves. Natasha and Bradley were in the middle of some kind of dumb darts competition, being heckled by Bob and a tipsy Rueben, who had his arm slung around the former’s shoulders for balance.

Jake took in the scenery, smug grin on his face, before sinking his final pool ball with a flourish.

“And that’s game, gentlemen,” he said, turning to Javy and Mickey, who were shaking their heads with frustration.

“Can’t believe I let you talk me into betting against him,” Mickey sighed, shuffling through his wallet for a $20 bill. Javy just shrugged and threw a playful punch against his friend’s shoulder, before asking for a rematch.

“Let that be a lesson, Fanboy,” Jake chuckled, making a big show of examining the bill before pocketing it. “Never bet against Jake Seresin. They call me a golden boy for a reason.”

“Who’s ‘they?’ Everyone we know just calls you a dick,” Nat called out, making her way back to the table for her drink. Taking a look at the chaos on the table, she rolled her eyes before starting to gather up a handful of empty bottles. “C’mon, Fanboy. Help me clear some of these and I’ll buy you a beer to drown your sorrows in.”

He ran over to help, allowing Javy to slide over to Jake and elbow his buddy in the side.

“10 o’clock, there’s a whole table of pretty ladies. The blonde’s had her eye on you all night and her friend with the locs is crazy hot,” he murmured, as Jake took a subtle look over at the table in question. 5 or 6 women were crammed into a booth, and judging by the tiara on one of their heads, they were out celebrating a birthday. “Wingman?” the younger aviator asked, holding out his fist for Jake to bump it.

For a half second, he contemplated turning his best friend down.

It wasn’t like Jake wasn’t attracted to the blonde, who was, indeed making eyes at him from across the room. She was exactly his type, all bright smiles and smokey bedroom eyes, her curves and long legs poured into tight jeans. She had an air of confidence that made it clear she knew just how hot she was.

He knew that if he strolled over and gave her his best All-American smile and some of that Southern charm, he could probably win her over. They’d flirt and dance a bit and then he’d drive them back to one of their places, have some decent-to-excellent sex and he’d be asleep shortly after midnight.

It seemed fun. It seemed obvious. It seemed, quite honestly, a little boring to him.

Maybe it was because he turned 35 a few months ago and the idea of going home to his own bed after a night out was starting to seem more and more appealing to him. Maybe it was because he spent so much time trying to convince his fellow Daggers that he wasn’t a complete asshole that he didn’t want to risk them changing their minds again.

Or maybe he was just a little jealous.

Jake would see the way Rueben’s face lit up when he talked about his wife, how he would brag about every milestone his 3-year-old daughter was reaching. He felt awkward about his lack of wedding knowledge when a pink-eared Bob would ask the squad for their opinion on something for his upcoming nuptials. He’d try to ignore the weird sinking feeling in his stomach when he’d overhead Nat and Mickey picking out a restaurant for their weekly brunch double date with their respective girlfriends.

And despite the fact that he had spent most of his adult life doing whatever he could to avoid those kinds of situations, now he was starting to wonder if maybe … maybe he’d be a little happier if he had been able to settle down with someone of his own.

Oof. That thought made Jake’s chest tighten uncomfortably. So he pushed it down, smiled as wide as he could and first bumped Javy. “Wingmen for life, Coyote. Lead the way.”

 

If you had to spend one more minute squeezed up against this bar, wedged between a couple aggressively making out and a trio of rowdy Navy men who were trying to sing along to Queen, you were going to scream.

“Just come for a drink or two. This place is super chill for a Navy bar, I promise,” you muttered darkly under your breath, repeating the words your friend and new coworker had used to convince you to come out tonight.

Between a frantic weekend spent unpacking all of your belongings into your new studio apartment and a very long first week at your new job, all you had wanted to do was bury yourself under a blanket and watch Real Housewives until your brain melted out of your ears.

But you were trying to be more social. You wanted to focus more on your friendships. Do things that were good for you. That was the whole point of this move.

So instead, you were leaning so far over the bar top that you could feel the edge digging into your ribs, shouting a drink order at the (admittedly, very sweet and slightly overwhelmed) bartender. She had just placed the two beers and margarita you had asked for down in front of you when another hand appeared and tried to snatch them up.

“Hey!” you yelled, tossing the bills in your hand onto the bar as you reached up to catch the offender by the wrist before they made off with your hard-won drinks. “Asshole! Drop them, those are my beers! What the fuck?”

You swiped up the cocktail with your free hand, lest it meet the same fate and turned around to see what kind of absolute monster thought they had the right to steal drinks.

Annoyingly, he was beautiful.

Tall and broad, with sun-kissed skin and a blindingly-white smile, which held a hint of sheepishness as he realized that he had been caught red handed. There was something familiar about the way he ducked his head a little, before peering at you from beneath his eyelashes.

“Sorry about that, ma’am. I thought those were mine. Didn’t mean to steal from you,” his low, twangy drawl went right through you, settling warm and comfortingly in your stomach. “I’d offer to buy you a drink to make it up to you, but, well …”

Texas. That’s where that accent is from, you thought, instantly being transported back to your nursing school program in Austin. How many wannabe cowboys had spoken with that same drawl, trying to charm you and your friends during a night out? Not too many of them had succeeded with you, especially not after —

“Jake? Jake Seresin!?”

It had to be him. You’d know that smile anywhere, had seen those green eyes in your dreams for far too long after you both had moved on. He was bigger now, muscles more pronounced and jaw more defined, more of those cheeky smile lines creasing around his eyes. His voice was deeper too, some of his accent smoothed out after years in the military, but it had to be.

He swore under his breath, eyes widening as he made the connection as well. He practically whispered your name, as if it felt a bit rusty on his tongue, but the second you nodded, he repeated it louder, warmer, like he was slipping back into his favorite jacket.

“Shit, how long’s it been?” Jake wondered aloud, looking you up and down as if to make a note of every infinitesimal change that had occurred since you last saw each other. “You look amazing, darling. Beautiful as ever.”

You rolled your eyes but felt your cheeks heating up at his compliment. Jake always had a way of making you feel like the most special person in the room — but then again, he made everyone feel that way, as you later found out. “You look good too, Seresin. Like a proper, respectable Navy man,” you concede, though the words don’t sound nearly as begrudging as you hoped.

You’re rewarded with one of those thousand-watt grins and for a second, you’re back in a Texas dive bar, flirting with the most handsome man you’ve ever seen to the tune of some cheesy country-rap remix.

“I am good,” Jake promises, eyes locked on yours, and you think he might be back there with you, leaning up against the jukebox, the floors sticky under your feet. “I don’t know how respectable I am, but I am definitely good.”

His voice drags out that sentence, low and flirtatious, and butterflies fill your stomach the same way they did all those years ago. You can practically feel the ghost of his big hands on your hips, your lower back, caressing your cheek as the world disappeared around you that night, just the two of you creating your own little world in the corner of that dingy bar. Your lips part — to say what, exactly, you’re not sure — and you see his eyes drop to them for just a moment before —

The woman behind the bar calls out “Hangman!” with a tone of voice that makes it clear that it’s not the first time she’s said it and you both startle and turn to see her holding four bottles of beer out towards Jake, a look of exhaustion on her face. He jumps forward to take them, apologies pouring from his lips and he pointedly shoves several bills into the tip jar in order to earn an eye roll and a small smile from her. Two sweating bottles in each hand, he turns back to you and almost seems a bit relieved that you’re still standing there. (As if you’ve ever been able to walk away from him.)

“I have to drop these off with my friends,” Jake says, nodding to a table somewhere behind you, “And you should probably get those drinks to the people who sent you over here. But do — do you wanna catch up? There’s a deck out back with some tables, it’s usually pretty quiet this time of night.” He waits for you to nod, before pressing a quick kiss to your cheekbone. “I’ll meet you in five minutes.”

With one more charming smile, he’s off into the crowd and — not for the first time in your life — you’re left speechless and a little stunned, staring after Jake Seresin.

 

You’re not sure if the goosebumps on your arms are from the chill of the California evening or the way that Jake hasn’t stopped staring at you since he joined you outside on the deck. You shift slightly against the wooden bench of the picnic table, overwhelmed by the intensity of having all of the blonde’s attention on you again for the first time in a decade.

“So …” you begin, and your voice seems to startle Jake out of his thoughts slightly. “You’re a California boy now? I never thought you’d ever leave Texas.”

He grins and shakes his head slightly. “Well, when Top Gun calls and offers you a permanent station, you’d be a fool not to accept. And not to brag, but they do only offer that to the best of the best.”

“Please, Seresin. You love to brag,” you fire back, watching those green eyes sparkle with mischief.

“Well, it’s not bragging if it’s the truth. And the truth is, darling, that I am one hell of a pilot.” Jake takes a swig from his beer, before leaning a bit closer into you, like he wants to study your reactions. “What about you? What brings you out to sunny San Diego?”

“New job,” you say shortly, shrugging your shoulders as nonchalantly as possible. “Moved from the ICU to the ED, so I figured a change of location would go well with a change of pace.”

Your smile doesn’t quite meet your eyes and you hope he can’t tell. There’s no reason to tell your ex — boyfriend? Fling? — whatever that you followed a guy out here, especially since that whole — relationship? Affair? Complete and utter heartbreaking disaster? — situation crashed and burned almost immediately.

“Mmhmm,” Jake says, as if he can tell that’s not the whole story, and he takes another sip before seemingly deciding to let you off the hook. “And what did you boyfriend have to say about moving halfway across the country? Or did someone manage to finally lock you down after all these years?”

There’s a small, sinking feeling in your stomach as you think about the real reason you moved here for a brief, heartbreaking second.

“No boyfriend. No husband, either,” you say, wiggling your left hand at him in order to illustrate your point, and clock the way his eyes almost look relieved by the sight of your empty finger. “What about you, Seresin? Where’s your sweet, Southern wife?”

He laughs, a little cocky but a little hollow at the same time. “You know I don’t really do commitment, darlin’,” he jokes and, boy, do you, nights of watching him flirt with other girls while you pouted in the corner of the bar flashing in your brain. You take a long swallow of your beer — just like you used to swallow down your pride back then — and roll your eyes at him.

“I swear, you look exactly the same when you roll your eyes like that,” Jake says, his smile softening around the edges. “Nobody ever managed to make it quite as cutting as you.”

“Nobody’s ever been quite as annoying as you,” you fire back, but there’s no real heat behind it. Jake’s eye light up like you just gave him a compliment rather than pointing out that he knew exactly how to press your buttons when you were younger.

“I seem to remember you used to like it when I was able to make your eyes roll. Or, at least, when I could make them roll back into your head …”

You sigh, doing your best not to let on how much that comment made your face heat with decade-old memories of you two tangled up in your sheets. “There it is …” you begin, but he just leans into you a little more, those green eyes traveling all over your face as he speaks.

“I’m just reminiscing, that’s all. Can ya blame me? You’re still so beautiful …” Jake responds, one hand reaching out to gently tuck some of your hair behind your ear. His fingers brush against your cheek as he pulls away and you hope you can explain away the goosebumps that erupt on your skin as a product of the ocean breeze. “And I spent a lot of time trying to get you all worked up back then. Force of habit.”

You could give into it.

Allow the sheer force of Jake’s charisma and good looks to carry you away on a wave of old memories. The chemistry that always fizzled between you is clearly still there, the butterflies that have laid dormant in your stomach all this time just waiting for an excuse to be let free once again. It would be easy.

And it would be good — you two had always been good at the physical stuff. He was so gorgeous in so many ways and surprisingly generous when you were in bed. (Jake always took pride in being the best of the best, after all).

But once you woke up tomorrow morning, after all of the awkward goodbyes and the promises to call, then what? Jake Seresin doesn’t commit; he made that clear.

And you were still bruised from your last mess of a relationship, your heart feeling tender and aching in your chest most days. There’s no way that this doesn’t end the same way it did a decade ago, with you sobbing uncontrollably and Jake moving on to the next beautiful girl who manages to hold his attention.

So, with a self-control you didn’t even know you possessed, you pull yourself out of Jake’s undertow.

“Seresin, I … that’s probably a bad idea,” you say softly, eyes dropping down to the tabletop in between you. “I just got out of a relationship and I’m not in a place —”

He cuts you off by tilting your chin up to look at him and then making a point to pull his hands back and keep them to himself.

“Hey, hey, I get it. No worries. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything, darlin’” Jake explains in a rush. “I’m sorry about that. Like I said, force of habit.”

You huff out a laugh and another eye roll and you can see him fight a grin at your reaction. “Only you would describe flirting with someone as a habit, Jake.”

“Well, I’m one of a kind.”

“Shut up, Seresin,” you giggle, glad to be back on solid, friendly ground with him.

 Two hours later, Jake sent you off with a hug and his phone number as you and your friend climbed into an Uber and set off for home. She had a few questions about the “dreamboat” of a Naval aviator that you had apparently dated back in school, but was a little too excited about recounting her own evening to push you for details. It wasn’t until you arrived back at your apartment and collapsed on your couch that you realized Jake had been texting you the whole time you were in the car.

Unknown: It’s Jake 🫡😜🤠⭐️🍻🏈😉

Unknown: Hope you get home safe, beautiful. It was great to catch up with you.

Unknown: And I would be an embarrassment to the U.S. Navy if I didn’t at least offer to be your tour guide around San Diego

Unknown: I know all the best spots after all

Unknown: So text me if you want to grab lunch or something

Unknown: Or if you finally want to learn how to surf

Unknown: But give me fair warning beforehand, I remember how bad your balance is lol

 

You: lol I forgot you text every single thought in your brain

You: but having a tour guide sounds nice

You: we could get brunch this weekend and you can give me the highlights?

 

You had only just begun to take your shoes off, resigned to finally get off the couch, when your phone pinged.

 

Jake 🤠 🧡: I know just the place

You gave his text a quick thumbs up and got ready for bed smiling the whole time.

-—-—-—-—-—

Comments and reblogs are always appreciated! I don’t know if I’m going to have a regular schedule with this or anything, but I will do my best! Thank you for reading about the absolute menace that is Jake Seresin

Tagging some people who asked:

@tvshowgirl81 @redbarn1995 @stoneyggirl @keepingitlokiii @averyhotchner @dizzybee03 @olliepig @lynnevanss @djs8891 @mamachasesmayhem @mamaskillerqueen @kmc1989 @hookslove1592

[tangerinesgf]

yooo, could you write for Thom Ryder (or whatever his name is ) someee maybe hurt/comfort stuff. Cause I love your writings!!!,💋🙏

Tom Ryder x GN!reader

Summary: Tom Ryder is an addict. But only the person closest to him knows that.

Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Some fluff, Paranoia, mentions of drugs and alcohol.

A/N: Yaaayy my first Tom Ryder fic!! Tysm for your request. I'm having so much fun writing for this man. I hope you like it. Also Tom Ryder is British right? Correct me if I'm wrong here pls, his accent was so confusing to me

It was the night after Tom Ryder’s big movie premiere. Or well one of them. Another big blockbuster on his name, another couple million dollars in the bank and like every big occasion in Ryder’s life it called for a party. As his partner you have been to all the premiere's with him. From London to Paris and even Tokyo, all the way back to L.A. You were by his side through it all. The good and the bad. 

Tonight was all good. He just had a busy press tour behind him and was finally ready to unwind. He invited all of his friends and their friends to his house, or as he called it his ‘kingdom’. 

The first few hours you stuck to each other like glue, laughing dancing, ofcours a bit of flirting and kissing too. After a while you told him you were gonna go to the bathroom for a second and after some serious looks that told him that he couldn’t come with you.

When you came back Tom wasn’t in his usual spot anymore, but you didn’t really think anything of it. He was probably outside smoking weed or hanging around with his friends.

At some point during the evering you started to miss your boyfriend and started looking for him across the dancefloor, expecting to find him grinding with some random person he just met.

You’ve come to find his behaviour when high or drunk to be quite predictable. Whenever you found him dancing with another girl he’s quite genuinely confused, saying sorry over and over again, because he thought he was dancing with you. Though you couldn’t entirely blame him for it since he was high off his nuts and completely disoriented. Besides that, he was absolutely adorable while begging for your forgiveness.

Inside that asshole he protrayed himself to be was just an insecure little boy who didn’t get enough validation from his parents. 

So here you were searching his entire loft, shoving people aside left and right to find Ryder, which wasn’t nearly as easy as it appeared to be. His loft was huge with multiple bedrooms, bathrooms and just random rooms filled with whatever crazy thing Tom wanted to try this time.

As his girlfriend you were often at his place, which means you were there last week when he turned one of his rooms into a small makeshift jungle for his new Koala. You gave it 2 weeks max before animal protection would show up at his front door. 

His loft felt like an absolute madhouse everytime he held a party there, the music was deafening and the smell of weed and alcohol hung in the air. You were pretty sure Tom didn’t even know half of the people in his house right now. 

To your surprise he wasn’t shagging up with some random girl, in fact he was nowhere to be found at the party. Usually you’d stick by him during parties like this, especially when there were drugs involved. So when you couldn’t find him with his usual group of friends and he hadn’t come to find you, you knew something was wrong. 

You abandoned the party downstairs and went to find the actor upstairs where the guests weren’t allowed. The bedroom was empty, as was his second bedroom and the room he uses to practice his scenes (that particular room had a huge mirror).

“Tom? Love?” You call out in the hallway as you walk past all his movie posters. Then suddenly you stop in your tracks as you hear a voice coming from the bathroom, it sounds like Tom talking to someone, but there’s no other voice talking back. Like he’s all alone in there. 

Silently you walk over to the bathroom, the last thing you wanted to do was scare him right now. The door was open just a bit as you leaned beside it, looking through the little slit in the door. Tom was pacing the room back and forth like madman. You couldn’t exactly hear what he was saying because most of it came out hastily in a mumble. 

You decided to approach him carefully since you had no real perception of the state he was in right now. Ever so softly you knock on the bathroom door to announce your presence. At the sound Ryder’s head immediately snaps up in your direction, he looks like a deer caught in headlights with those wide eyes.

In a split second he grabs his hairbrush from the shelf above the sink and holds it in front of him like you would a knife. Ofcours you knew he wouldn’t get very far with that, but right now you just wanted to make him feel comfortable so you hold your hands up in the air to show him you mean no harm.

“Tom..” You say softly as you take a step closer to him. The beads of sweat on his forehead become apparent to you as do his frantic eyes which are constantly scanning every part of the room for threats. 

His movements are erratic as he holds the brush out in front of him and you wonder if he even reconizes you as his partner at this moment. “Stay back- I know why you’re here… I know it. Where are your friends, hm?” He raises his eyebrow at you, skeptical of your intentions. 

“What on earth are you talking about?” A frown appears on your face as he starts ranting nonsense. You were well aware of Ryder’s drug problem, but you really hated seeing him like this. The poor guy was really in a miserable state.

It had all started quite innocent, just one joint to take the edge off before a press tour or a premiere, you even did it with him sometimes. Then at parties he started to dance on the edge of safe and dangerous. Taking more and more different kinds of drugs with the excuse of ‘just experimenting’. 

In the last couple of weeks you’ve found him throwing up in the bathroom, pale as a ghost more than once. You’ve tried to offer advice but he never wants to hear it. He’s Tom Ryder. He can do whatever he wants. 

“Don’t pretend you don’t know. You came all the way up here to get me alone, right? So there’d be no witnesses when you kill me.” The brush is shaking in his hands and his words are quick, full of distrust towards you.

You can tell it’s bad this time. You’ve never seen him so paranoide before and it’s seriously concerning. Lately one or two hits just aren’t enough for him anymore, it’s like he’s trying to numb himself. From what you wouldn’t know, he’s not exactly open about his flaws and weaknesses. That’s vulnerability and that’s bad. 

“No I’m not-” You step closer, but he cuts you off by throwing the brush in your direction which you just barely manage to dodge. You look at him with wide eyes and before he can grab the bar of soap from the sink to throw that as well you rush over to him to grab his wrists.

“Tom, listen to me- fuck..” You mutter as he struggles against you, trying to push you off him. 

“What do you want from me?!” Ryder shouts desperately. Even after doing all those movies and action scenes he has really no idea how to fight, so most of his attempts to fight you off go nowhere. 

“It’s me, Tom. No one is trying to kill you!” You yell as you finally manage to remove the bar of soap from his hands. You quickly reach your hands up to cup his face. With closed eyes you take some deep breaths to slow down your heart rate. You weren’t exactly sober either, so you took a moment to steady yourself before looking back at him.

It wasn’t that you didn’t understand where the paranoia came from, ofcours you did. Tom Ryder is the most famous actor in the world, everyone who didn’t want to be with him, wanted to be him. Let’s just say that both of you have experienced first hand how far some people are willing to go for celebrities. 

Yet when sober Tom didn’t seem necessarily concerned about it, more annoyed or angry when another fan tried to touch or attack him. And don’t get it wrong, Tom loves the attention and validation, but he doesn’t exactly want those crazies near him.

“Hey, hey look at me, yeah? Look at me.” Your voice is demanding and his eyes immediately snap back towards yours. His sunglasses do a poor job of hiding his wide blown, red eyes. 

“You’re okay.” You gently stroke his cheek with your thumb to try and calm him down like you’ve done countless times before. “You’re okay..” You repeat in a softer tone, a small smile spread across your lips.  

“Baby?” He whispers quietly. His eyes have softened and you can feel the man you love coming back to you. 

“Mhm..” You hum softly. “No one’s going to kill you, I promise.” 

You notice Tom’s eyes starting to water a little as he realizes everything is okay and that you’re with him to keep him safe. He holds his head down in shame.  “I’m sorry..” His voice barely comes out as a whisper as he leans forwards and buries his face in your chest. 

You wrap one arm around him, the other gently stroking his messy blonde hair to comfort him. He’s always had a weak spot for you when you played with his hair. 

“And I’m sorry I tried to hit you with my hairbrush.” He mumbles again.

“I know, love..” You whisper back as you hold him close. Then without warning Tom starts sobbing into your chest, it sounds broken and helpless. Every single thought inside his head just spilt over, unable to keep it in anymore, yet also unable to actually talk about it. 

You pull him into a tight hug, leaning his head on your shoulder as you rub his back. You’ve never seen him this vulnerable before and while it felt a little bit weird, it also felt good that he trusted you enough to let himself be vulnerable with you.

For now you'd just hold him, let him air his heart as long as he needs to. You can both work on your issues later. In this moment being in the comfort of each other's arms is enough.

A/N: I'm a firm believer that Tom Ryder swings both ways, but cannot hold a normal stable relationship to save his life. Anyways I hope you enjoyed this and please if you have any Tom Ryder requests send them in.

I don't have a Taglist for Tom Ryder fanfics yet, so if you wanna be on it lemme know.

[allwaswell16]

A One Direction fic rec of fics where at least one of the main characters has trust issues as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

🌊 Love After the End of the World by @mercurial-madhouse

(E, 162k, dystopian) When staying alive is already a constant battle, the deadliest weakness is to be in love. For Harry and Louis, finding each other sits on top of the endless list of What Else Could Go Wrong.

🌊 Saving Symphony Hall by @helloamhere

(E, 124k, omegaverse) “That’s the attitude,” said Louis, “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Tonight, I need to do some research. Zayn, give me your number. I’m gonna save our symphony.”

🌊 And What If I Were You by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom

(E, 109k, famous/not famous) For Louis, will losing his sight give him the clarity to realise what is right in front of him? For Harry, will losing the love of his life give him the strength to finally open his heart? And can they find their way back, before they lose each other forever?

🌊 Say Something by @kingsofeverything

(E, 105k, age difference) At fifty years old and recently divorced, Omega Harry Styles isn't interested in dating. When his doctor suggests a heat and rut matching service, he signs up out of necessity. It’s the only use he has for an Alpha in his life.

🌊 Emperor's New Clothes by sunsetmog / @magicalrocketships

(E, 92k, famous/not famous) Harry’s a pop star and Louis isn’t, and there’s a non-disclosure agreement where there used to be a relationship.

🌊 One More Taste of Your Lips by @canadianlarrie, MsHydeStylinson / @mizzhydes

(E, 80k, canon) It had been eight years since the hiatus began, and Louis had spent that time writing and recording music, touring and making it safely through the pandemic. When the opportunity arose to go back on tour with One Direction, Louis knew he'd be a fool not to take it. 

🌊 I Walk the Line by Awriterwrites / @a-writerwrites

(E, 55k, uni) Professor Louis Tomlinson is the leading researcher in his field. Harry Styles is Louis’ recently hired grad assistant. Sparks fly between them but something doesn’t add up when it comes to Harry, and Louis is determined to find out what.

🌊 where the lights are beautiful (series) by twoshipsdrifting / @polkadotlou

(E, 48k, omegaverse)  the accidental bonding a/b/o fic.

🌊 To Be Loved and To Be In Love by RealName

(M, 34k, First Dates au) Louis Tomlinson is a thirty-year-old divorcee whose friends have signed him up for the Channel 4 show First Dates. Harry Styles is a twenty-eight-year-old lawyer who has never been in a long-term relationship.

🌊 Compass to my Soul by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(T, 31k, omegaverse) Louis Tomlinson, omega, is 1/5 of world famous boy band One Direction. He spends his time hoping his bandmates don’t notice him.

🌊 A Road To Something Better by @taggiecb

(E, 25k, small town) Louis Tomlinson, famous romance novelist, has just had the rug pulled out from under his feet when his boyfriend leaves him without notice. What's the most appropriate response to this? Move a thousand miles away and seclude himself in a tiny lake town, of course. 

🌊 I Don't Wanna Fall Asleep by therogueskimo / @bravetemptation

(NR, 23k, exes) AU where Harry has trouble sleeping unless he’s wrapped in Louis’ arms. Louis left him 4 years ago.

🌊 let your lights shine by hazkaban

(M, 22k, football) AU where Louis is a faded professional footballer (soccer player) whose career is nearly ruined by an injury. Harry's his physiotherapist.

🌊  Might’ve Took The Long Way by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove

(M, 21k, exes to lovers) Now Harry is back in town, and no matter how many times Louis tells himself they can’t be together, they keep falling right back into each other.

🌊 He Was a Different League (When I Was Nothing Much) by @afangirlfantasy

(NR, 21k, Marcel) an AU where finding that 'someone new' actually leads to finding that 'someone old,' and Marcel is painfully oblivious.

🌊 A Small Matter (A Matter of Trust) by @kingsofeverything

(E, 18k, tiny penis fic) Harry knows he and his Grindr hookup would be perfect together, if only he could convince him to give a relationship a chance.

🌊 Once The Dark Divides by zanni_scaramouche / @zanniscaramouche

(E, 14k, bdsm) Louis finds out his childhood best friend is a Dom and somehow convinces him it's a good idea to learn about the world of kink with a hands on lesson

🌊 A Silver Lining In A Storm (You Were Lightning, I Was Born) by @fallinglikethis

(E, 6k, omegaverse) after the death of his first fiancé, a man who turned out far worse than Harry thought possible, his subsequent marriage to the man's brother leaves Harry finding it difficult to trust that everything will work out.

- Rare Pairs -

🌊 Bloom by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

(T, 28k, Louis/Liam) In early 1970s Oxford, Detective Sergeant Louis Tomlinson has to deal with the dual pressures of a case that hits too close to home, and the arrival of new colleague Liam Payne.

🌊 One by @allwaswell16

(E, 4k, Louis/Tommy Shelby) When omega Louis Tomlinson becomes pregnant after an unexpected encounter, he decides his only option is to flee his pack. But Tommy Shelby, pack alpha of the Peaky Blinders, might not be willing to let him go so easily.

🌊 When We Hold On (To the Past) by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf

(E, 3k, Zayn/Louis) Zayn could drop the subject and keep fucking him, keep the strings from getting attached, pretend that they weren’t getting closer than Louis was comfortable with. Or Zayn could choose the opposite path—which he did.

[andthebubbles]

i hope to not work on this fic tomorrow, i want to cry, i really need to go on a long drive, i want a hug

[solitaire-sol]

Marauders Fandom Vent Post

CW: The following is anti-Regulus, anti-Barty Crouch Jr, anti-Slytherin Skittles, anti-Death Eater whitewashing, and a little general ranting about canon vs non-canon.

I should be finishing my Moonchaser Week fics but I made the mistake of browsing around and wow wow wow there are some truly terrible takes and I kind of really hate it.

"Regulus was abused and--" Really? Was he? Because all the info we get on him in canon is that he was Orion and Walburga's 'golden boy,' probably after Sirius started getting rebellious, definitely not reason enough to be Voldy's No. 1 Cheerleader until he was personally offended by the pursuit of immortality/mistreatment of Reg's house-elf. Just because ten billion fics follow-the-leader'd a handful of Big Fics where Sirius and Regulus were regularly Crucio'd on the daily from early childhood (and were still somehow functional when it landed Neville's parents, two adult and experienced Aurors, in the madhouse) does not make it canon. REGULUS WAS NOT A POOR ABUSED KITTEN AGAHGAHGAH

Oh, and speaking of the Longbottoms: "There's no proof Barty Jr really tortured anyone and he probably didn't even do anything at school so we don't know--"

Yeah, I guess that's fair. I mean, he was a dyed-in-the-wool Deatheater and was sent with two known murder-y/torture-y Deatheaters specifically to "take care" of the Longbottoms, who were as mentioned tortured into madness, but maybe Barty Jr was just sent along to take minutes or serve tea or something! No-one desperate to avoid Hell Prison might try to avoid it by saying they were innocent of the thing they did! We should believe the fascist fanboy who hangs out with other murderous and torturous fascist fanpeople.

"But Barty Jr was under the Imperious by his father! He was abused so--"

Yes, because his father stupidly broke his son out of Hell Prison as his wife's dying wish, tried to hide said son and couldn't control him because Barty Jr was a Voldy fanboy who kept trying to rejoin/restart their little Dark Magic gang! I'm not defending Barty Sr, he made a lot of very poor decisions throughout, but he Imperious'd Barty Jr to keep him from wandering off and doing Death Eater things like, oh, torturing and murdering Muggles and Muggleborns! There's no indication that Barty Jr was Imperius'd or cursed or abused or anything worse than having an emotionally distant workaholic father before he went into Azkaban, and there are lots of kids with emotionally distant parents who don't join hate armies and try to resume said activities after, again, his dying mother sacrificed herself for his freedom. Shockingly, Barty Jr is actually terrible!

I know, I know, it's fandom, do whatever you want, but I just don't understand this bizarre dual-vision myopia. Either canon doesn't matter, you can do what you want and ignore whatever's in the books, in which case why bother citing canon events at all? Or canon does matter, in which case your wildly speculative and sometimes outright incorrect 'facts' should at least be acknowledged as exactly that, rather than stretching the intended meaning of the phrase 'it could happen' so far that it snaps! Why are people so desperate to whitewash these murderous fanatics, they aren't even actually hot, their fans have decided they're hot and therefore should be whitewashed and I don't understanddddddd

[elizabethwydevilles]

Star Wars fic recs

So I've actually had a fic rec page for... a while ahem but I never actually got round to actually telling anyone. So... here's 8 fics from my faves. The crème de la crème, so to speak.

Antediluvian by @space-asparagus

A Padmé-centric look at the strain and worries of a secret marriage during war time, explored through civic infrastructure. A truly delicious Padmé.

Madhouse Promenade by @husborth

No one does gothic Darth Vader like husborth, and this is some of husborth's best. In progress, but the 2 chapters that are up are amazing.

Playing the Lyre by @husborth

Good Mace and Anakin fics aren't the easiest to find, but this one knocks it out of the park. I really don't want to spoil but the conversation they have starting from Mace saying he is not calm? Makes me want scream in the best way.

now i want my letters white again by @ozvezdja

Love isn't a magical fix but it matters that it's there, is how I'd describe the Anakin/Padmé relationship in this fic. Tonally it hits perfectly - it doesn't shy away from how mixed up Anakin's mental state is, but it always feels like there is hope; hope you can truly believe.

Every Moment Points Toward the Aftermath by @hinerdsitscat

Anakin and Obi-Wan are a disaster, but in a way that ends reasonably well for once. Humourous fic tends to be very hit or miss for me; this one is a definite hit.

hold you with my left hand by crucifixion

The atmosphere of this fic is spot on; you can feel the stillness and humidity of Naboo in the late summer. A really lovely look at Anakin/Padmé just after their marriage.

masterpiece, not mistake by lettuce_mouth

Actually an AU of an AU, but I don't think you need to read the original AU to grasp this one shot. If you're a sucker for the Leia and Anakin dynamic, this grasps their complexities so well.

Proposed Legislation by Anonymous

Padmé and Palpatine do politics not long before RotS, and, as you can imagine, what isn't said is just as important as what is.

The rest of my fic recs can be found here.

[strawberrysmootji]

Chapter 1 | Memento Mori

“Remember you must die”

18+ fic, minors do not interact!

Fic summary: The Red Keep stood tall on Aegon’s hill. It used to house the nobles of the realm in the old histories of Westeros but now it was home to the Targaryen family, tainting its red color with their dark and gloom. The Targaryens were a family plagued with rumors, drama and perhaps even the supernatural. It doesn’t help that King’s Landing has been plagued with murders ever since their arrival. Once a month on the morning of the first full moon a body turns up in the Blackwater Bay and everyone suspects it is the mysterious family living in isolation, safe from the horrors that plague the city.

Your father, a well-known businessman and a lover of mysteries, had received a letter from Lady Alicent Hightower that contained a marriage proposal. She wished to marry you to one of her sons who had both recently come of age like you. Your father itched at the opportunity to unravel the mysteries of the Targaryen family and immediately sent you on your way as a future bride and with a mission: uncover the secrets of the most prestigious family in the kingdom.

Chapter summary: You arrive at the Red Keep. You meet the strange family and try to get along with your distant and secretive fiancé. Meanwhile another body is found in Blackwater bay. (edited) Chapter warnings/tags: Mentions of death, gore, corpses, organs, profanities, canon typical incest, the supernatural, betrothal, family drama, family secrets if any of these things are not to your liking/ are triggering i recommend not to read it! Word count: 5.2k Rigor Mortis Masterlist | Main Masterlist

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

“They say the castle is haunted, my dear sister.” Your older brother teased with a large, shit-eating grin. The two of you were being escorted to King’s Landing, the capital of Westeros, in a cramped black carriage pulled by two large black horses. The inside of the carriage was small and you had been practically squeezed up against your brother the whole ride. The cushions were covered in a dark purple velvet while the rest of the inside was painted black. 

Heavy rain splattered against the roof and the window of the carriage and you pitied the coachman that drove it. It had been raining all day long. Your mother used to say rain was a bad omen, that monsters were able to lurk amongst the normal people due to the lack of sunlight and the gloomy atmosphere. However, your mother had also been sent to an asylum a few years ago. As much as you wanted to, you never visited, terrified of finding out what they did to her there. It started off with a doctor’s recommendation to visit the seaside to clear your mother’s mind but that coastal visit had quickly turned into a one way journey to the ‘madhouse’ on the Arbor. Despite all of this you were certain of one thing. Your mother wasn’t a lunatic. 

It bothered you and your father more than it did your brother. Your brother and you never truly got along. Your older brother was blinded by greed, he was the heir to your father’s company and would inherit everything once your father passed. If anything, it was your brother that was the black sheep of the family. He always preferred the company of his lousy, rich friends over that of you and your parents. You and your father, however, had always gotten along well. He would tell you stories of great mysteries and detectives or sometimes about the world outside of Westeros. You liked stories, whether they were fake or not. Despite all the stories your father and mother had told you, you never believed in the supernatural. You knew the human mind worked in peculiar ways and would often fill in the blanks if someone didn’t understand what they were seeing. Human creativity was both a blessing and a curse.

“I doubt the castle is haunted, dearest brother. They are just ghost stories to keep unwanted visitors away.” 

You didn’t even know why your brother had insisted on travelling with you. Perhaps he got a sick kick out of giving you away to a bunch of rich and royal strangers, never to be seen again. 

“You’re no fun. I can’t even scare you properly-” 

He was cut off by the carriage shaking for a moment and you could feel the left back wheel get stuck in a pot hole. The carriage was slanted and you felt yourself lean towards the lower point. You cursed under your breath and stared at your brother for a few seconds as if to urge him to go check it out but he didn’t move. You crawled over him and opened the door of the carriage and hopped out yourself. You immediately cringed when you felt the mud stain your new proper black boots and the bottom of the skirt of your deep blue dress. You held it up as best as you could and walked around to the back of the carriage to find the coach man inspecting the wheel. The old man was soaked to the bone due to the heavy rain and the pity you felt for him only worsened. “Can’t the horses pull it out?” You asked him as you turned your gaze to the wheel as well. The pothole was rather deep, not to mention slippery because of the dirt turning into a muddy puddle. The old coachman shook his head and took off his black top hat to run his hand through his thin grey hair. “No Lady, someone must push the carriage from behind as well. It is too slippery for the wheel to roll out properly.” 

You let out a frustrated groan and stomped back to the carriage door and peeked your head back through the door. Your brother’s gaze fell upon you and he grinned.

“Benjamen, I need you to push the carriage out of the pothole.”

“Why do I have to do that?”

“Because you are a man and you are stronger than me.” 

Benjamen rolled his eyes and glanced up and down, scanning your already soaked and dirty attire. His lips curled back up into a shit eating grin and crossed his arms over his chest.

“You’re already soaked and dirty, you do it.” 

You groaned at his childish attitude and slammed the small door of the carriage shut. Once you were behind the carriage again you glanced at the wheel and sighed. The pothole was filled with a watery muddy puddle and you grimaced. The coachman’s brows furrowed when he saw you outside again. 

‘He pities you’ You cringed at the thought.

“We should move the carriage now. I shall push it.” You replied, trying to seem as calm and confident as you could. You wore your best dress today but it didn’t matter anymore. The bottom of the long blue dress was soiled with mud while the rest of your dress was starting to get soaked. If only you had invested in a waxed cloak. 

The coachman reluctantly nodded and walked back around the carriage to sit down at the front and spur the two horses in. Once you noticed the horses trying to pull the carriage you placed your hands flat against the back of the carriage and pushed with all your might. It was tedious and heavy but once you felt the carriage move forward you let out a sigh in relief and kept pushing until the wheel was fully out of the pothole and it came to a halt so you could re enter. 

As you stepped back into the carriage you could hear your brother Benjamen snicker at the state you were in. You sat back down and ignored him for the rest of the bumpy ride to the Red Keep. You only listened when he said the city of King’s Landing came into view. The city was old and incredibly large. It had a harbour on the south side of the city where the narrow sea turned into a river and the city was built on three hills. Rhaenys’ hill, where a large abandoned structure stood that once had the name ‘The Dragonpit’. You had read the old rulers of the city used to hold gladiator fights or host trials by combat in it. Now, people believed it was now haunted. You had heard that sometimes disgruntled screams came from the ruin and people avoided it at all cost. The second hill of the city was Visenya’s hill, a tall hill that housed the great sept of Baelor. It was a tall gothic structure with seven crystal towers to represent the seven gods. It was an old building covered in details of the seven pointed star, the main symbol of the religion. Then, finally, there was Aegon’s hill. Aegon’s hill housed the large castle that was called ‘The Red Keep’, your future home. It was a grand structure located on the south east of the city. It had many tall towers that overlooked the beautiful, yet treacherous narrow sea. It was said that ever since the Targaryens took residency in the Keep, the sea had become more wild and stormy as if it was protesting against them.

The carriage entered the city through the north western gate that was famously dubbed the Dragon’s gate. You had hoped the ride would be less bumpy now that you had finally left the King’s Road but you were wrong. It was clear the city structures and the cobblestone roads were neglected, to say it nicely. As you peeked through the window of the small carriage you could see the people living in poverty, especially once the carriage rode onto the street of the sisters and past the city district that was named ‘Flea bottom’, or so your brother had told you. The more uphill the carriage got, the wealthier the city folk became. The streets were deserted due to the rain but you could still peek through the windows of some of the houses and gawk at the interiors or occasionally the people themselves. 

They wore dresses like yours, well, the women did. Their lavish dresses that reached the floor were in various colours. Most of them are darker colours but if the fabric was lighter the colours were more  muted and desaturated. 

The castle gates of King’s Landing came into view and the structure seemed even larger when you stood close to it. The carriage came to a halt and you saw the coachman open the door to let you and your brother out. You saw the family standing in a part of the courtyard that was roofed over, safe from the heavy rain and looking at the carriage in anticipation. As you glanced down at your dirty cloak and dress you could feel your cheeks heating up, your hair most likely looked like a mess as well due to the rain, though it did have time to dry in the carriage. If it couldn’t get any worse you saw a bright flash in the sky followed by a loud rumbling boom a few seconds later.

Benjamen urged you to leave the carriage so you did, finally released from the cramped space. You took in the sight of the family again. A woman, clearly the mother, though still young, stood in the middle of the group. She had beautiful auburn hair braided into a delicate hairstyle. It looked complex yet elegant and if it weren’t for the horrible weather you assumed it would usually be worn with a garden hat or a bonnet. Her dress was large and ruffled. It was black and dark green, which you found quite bold. After all, your nanny had always taught you black dresses should only be worn with light colours and white dresses should be worn with darker colours.

To her right stood an older man who had the same hazel coloured eyes as her. He was a tall man and wore a high black top hat. His entire outfit was dark, from his long frock coat to his shoes. The only white piece of clothing he wore was his shirt which could barely be seen due to his many layers of clothing. Resting under the man’s was a cane with beautiful golden details. You had quickly figured out the two standing in the middle were Otto- and  queen Alicent Hightower, your future grandfather- and mother-in-law. It made sense why Alicent felt comfortable making such bold fashion choices. In fact, the rules of fashion might change as soon as one of the richer commoners got a look at her current attire. 

The other members of the family all had beautiful silver blonde coloured hair. Next to Otto stood a beautiful girl in a pale purple dress. The dress had many frilly details and ruffles. It complimented her violet eyes well. She was a little plump and her long silver hair was curled and up in a bun that was less complicated than her mother’s bun. You still thought she looked extremely elegant, especially with the white and purple flowers in her hair that served as accessories. Her sweet smile and extravagant dress revealed her to be princess Helaena. You hadn’t heard a single bad thing about her during your travels. Everyone claimed she was a polite woman and saw the good in everything, even the non living things like rocks and dirt. 

On the left of princess Helaena stood a tired looking man. His silver blonde hair was unkempt and grew a little past his jawline. His eyes were plagued by dark circles and the mustard coloured double breasted vest he wore made him look ill. The vest had a darked mustard colour stripes and fitted his figure quite well, unlike his jacket. It was too large and boxy, something that would be worn 30 years ago maybe. The mustard yellow colour made his violet eyes look darker and less noticeable compared to the people you assumed were the man’s siblings. Prince Aegon, you guessed. You had heard of his rather… hedonistic ways to pass the time. He would spend his free time with whores and liquor. 

On the far right of the group, the opposite side of the tired looking man stood a guard in uniform. The man’s skin was tan and he had dark hair that was combed back. He sported a moustache and a beard, though both were quite short and were only noticeable due to the dark colour of the hairs. His uniform coat was white with silver details and his pants a greyish colour. The man’s arms were large and you assumed he must be close to the family if they allowed him to stand beside him like that.

Finally, the man between Alicent and the guard stood out the most to you. He was taller than most of his family members and had a sharp jawline. He had long straight silver blonde hair like the rest of his siblings and his outfit was dark with hints of green, like his mother’s. Unlike the tired looking man his coat fitted him perfectly. It accentuated his waist and shoulders well and made him look elegant. The thing that stood out the most though was the ‘subtle’ scarring on the left side of his face. It was a thin shaky line that went from his cheek, over his eye and then stopped at his forehead. In the place where his eye was supposed to be was a glass eye but instead of it having an iris and a pupil it was completely white. His left eyelid twitched occasionally, as if it wasn’t used to the glass eye yet. He was beautiful, yet his intense gaze sent shivers down your spine. He was studying your every move, you could feel it. Prince Aemond Targaryen, your future husband. 

He seemed rather uptight and strict, the complete opposite of his older brother. Not that you wanted to marry Aegon instead, that seemed like the worse option. 

While you took in the scenery of the old castle and the family with their strange features there was no denying that there was something eerie about them.

You could hear your brother behind you step out of the carriage and he followed you as you walked towards the family. As you were to introduce yourself, Benjamen beat you to it. 

“It is an honour to meet you all. My name is Benjamin Manderly and I would be delighted to introduce my dearest sister.” 

Benjamen politely bowed with an arm tucked over his stomach and you bowed as well. You told them your name and Alicent pulled you under the roofed area in a gentle manner.

“You poor thing, you’re completely soaked.” She cupped your face in her hands and inspected it with a large, proud smile. “You’re truly as beautiful as your father claimed in his letters.”

Alicent turned to look at the guard and nodded at him. “Ser Criston, please tell the maids to prepare a nice warm bath for the poor girl. We wouldn’t want her to fall ill because of this nasty weather.” 

The guard sternly nodded his head, turned around and entered the castle. You turned to look back at your brother who was eagerly (too eagerly, in your opinion) helping the coachman unload your wooden trunks from the carriage. You had taken most of your belongings with you, for starters, you didn’t own a lot of large lavish dresses and Alicent had assured in her letter that your future husband would order some for you as soon as you arrived. 

Benjamen returned and roughly patted your shoulder as if you were one of his male companions. You winched and shot him a quick glare which he returned with a taunting grin.

“I shall miss you dearly, sister. Make sure you write home so father won’t miss you too much.” Benjamen said and roughly patted your shoulder again. 

‘Dickhead…’

“She will be in good hands, Lord Benjamen. We take good care of our ladies.” Aemond replied, the tone of his voice was icy and you could hear the passive aggressiveness in it. He was belittling your older brother and you had to stifle a laugh. It was a clear jab at Benjamen’s rude behaviour towards you. While you tried not to laugh, the tired looking brother let out a snort that he quickly tried to hide with a cough. Both Otto and Alicent sent the two men a warning gaze before looking back at Benjamin who’s cocky grin had been replaced with a scowl. 

“Do not fret brother, I will be in good hands and I shall write plenty.” 

You, reluctantly, hugged your brother goodbye and watched as he stepped into the small carriage. The coachman sat on his seat in front of the carriage and took off his tophat to wave at you. He spurred the horses on and you watched as the carriage walked through the gates and a loud boom of thunder could be heard again. The gates closed behind them and only now it had dawned on you that you were all alone in a castle with mysterious strangers. 

You felt Alicent’s hand gently rest on your shoulder.

“Don’t worry dear, prince Aemond shall take good care of you.”

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

The room they had given you was spacious. It had a dark wood king size bed with pale blue silk covers. The furniture was in the same dark wood and detailed style as the bed. There were many items in the room. In the corner near the fireplace there was a large white porcelain vase with blue-green details painted on it. Instead of flowers the vase held many beautiful and neat peacock feathers. The vase might’ve lacked flowers but the rest of the room did not. The table had a centrepiece with the Bay Rose Rhododendron as its main flower. It made you frown. You walked up to the flower and inspected the pale pink petals. You were no expert in the language of flowers but you knew what this one meant. 

Danger. Beware

The other flowers in the piece did nothing to ease your worries. The person that had put together the flowers had made it very clear they wanted to warn you for something.  

You opened one of your wooden trunks and rummaged through it until you had found what you were looking for. An empty leather notebook, the dip pen your mother had given you and a regular pot of ink. You sat down at the table where the centrepiece stood and scribbled down the flowers that were in it with the different meanings. 

- Afternoon, the fifth day of the first month of the year 1871 -

Bay Rose Rhododendron - Danger. Beware.

Cypress - Death. Mourning.

White Catchfly - Betrayal.

Creeping Cereus - Horror.

You softly blew on the ink in your notebook to make it dry quicker and hid the notebook back into the wooden trunk. Your father had gifted the notebook to you before you left. He was enthusiastic when he had gotten the proposal of queen Alicent to marry you to one of her sons. Not only would this strengthen his business’ reputation but it also meant insight into the mysterious Targaryen family. He wanted you to log your findings in a notebook like the detectives in the stories he told you about when you were younger.

No one knew where they came from centuries ago. It was almost as if they had appeared out of thin air. Your father was rich but compared to him they were filthy rich. Their ancestors had bought the Red Keep and had resided there ever since. It wasn’t until Aegon the Conqueror that their family ruled over the seven kingdoms. The foreign family had taken over the realm with ease and had turned it into a flourishing country with a stable economy…if we’re talking about the rich.  There were many rumours about the family. Some believed they were vampires, stalking through the dead of night and looking for their victims in the city of King’s Landing. 

Others believed them to be shape-shifting beasts, ghouls, werewolves or even the undead . You had met them only a few hours ago and you could say with certainty that they were neither undead, beasts or ghouls. Not that you believed the other supernatural rumours. All you knew was that their origins lay in a far away country that people here in Westeros weren’t too familiar with.  

There were plenty of non-supernatural rumours about them that were equally distasteful. Some said ‘they liked to keep the family pure’. Inbreeding was one of the main things they were accused of but they never confirmed nor denied it. You didn’t believe the rumours and you knew that the people of Westeros liked to ostracise people that were different from them. It would be no surprise to you if the rumour was a product of that. 

The most well-known rumour about the Targaryens had to be the one relating to the cases of dead bodies found in the Blackwater bay. No one knew exactly when it started but one thing they knew for sure was that it didn’t happen before the Targaryens appeared in King’s Landing. Well, it didn’t happen before in a pattern.

Every morning after the first full moon of the month a body would be found dead in Blackwater bay. It had been happening for a century at this point and every time it was the same. The body would be found with no eyes and no one could find anything on the body that pointed towards murder. No stab wounds, no bruises, no nothing. Even the empty eye sockets showed no signs of violence. As if someone surgically removed them without a trace. 

People didn’t go out on full moons, no one did. Even the animals like house cats or even stray cats found shelter somewhere inside. There weren't a lot of things the people knew about the mysterious deaths, only that they knew the Targaryen family had something to do with it.

“Do you like the flowers, dear?”

Alicent’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. You hadn’t even noticed you were staring at the flowers that contained the concerning  message.You sheepishly nodded and forced yourself to smile.

“I do, my queen.”  

“Please, call me Alicent, dear. I hope you are eventually able to call me mother as well.” Alicent chuckled and walked further into the room and motioned at the centrepiece. “Helaena arranged them for you. She is a wonderful girl, so incredibly creative.” Alicent beamed as she spoke of her daughter.

Helaena seemed so  sweet, did she really mean to combine these flowers together to send such a horrifying  message or did she genuinely not know? No, it was too much of a coincidence not to know. 

“I see you have changed your clothes as well, you look absolutely beautiful. Aemond is lucky to have you as his bride.” 

Alicent complimented you with a kind smile. The lady next to you had changed into her evening gown. A fully green velvet dress with many ruffles and layers. Her hair had also been braided into a much simpler style than earlier that day.

“Thank you my queen- I mean Alicent. You look wonderful as well.”

Alicent beamed at your compliment, perhaps she didn’t get them often. 

“We shall have dinner in half an hour and afterwards Aemond shall give you a tour of the castle. Take that time to get to know each other.” Alicent spoke and turned around to leave your room again.

When the door closed behind her the only noise in your room was the crackling of the burning wood in the fireplace. You rummaged through your trunk to find your notebook again. You needed a more well hidden spot for it, especially since the first findings you had made about the family weren’t particularly positive. You’d hate for them to find it. 

You eventually settled on hiding it beneath your mattress. The notebook wasn’t too thick and if it was uncomfortable to sleep on it was a small price to pay. Before hiding it in its designated spot you added a small note underneath the list of flowers. 

Princess Helaena arranged it.

Once the notebook was hidden in its spot you sat down on a sea green velvet couch and tried to devise a plan. You knew Aemond’s tour of the castle wouldn’t be enough to explore it to your liking but you didn’t want to make it too obvious you were snooping around. 

You had mulled over it during the duration of dinner. Absentmindedly answering the questions the family asked you. Well, it was mostly Alicent and Otto that asked you questions. After a few cups of wine Aegon joined in too but Alicent quickly shut him up once the questions got too perverse. 

You were now walking with Aemond through the castle and you had quickly figured out he was a stern man. His long straight hair was braided down his back and tied off with a black ribbon. He didn’t wear his coat inside the castle, only wearing his white shirt with puffy sleeves and a black double breasted vest with silver buttons. 

“These are my quarters.” He said with a monotone voice and pointed at the room on the left, not even bothering to show you the inside. You continued to follow him through the hallway. He pointed at the rooms in the hallway that belonged to his siblings Aegon and Helaena. Their names were engraved on a small golden plate attached to the door in swirly letters. He skipped over one room, not even bothering to look at it. You, however, noticed it still contained a golden plate with a name engraved on it. From the corner of your eye you could only barely make out the name.

Daeron Targaryen.

‘Weird.’ You thought. You weren’t aware of a Daeron living in the castle with them. Perhaps he was a cousin or an uncle? You had learned at dinner that Aemond’s half-sister Rhaenyra lived in a different castle with her husband, five sons and two step-daughters, perhaps it was one of them? 

You had also learned Aemond’s father, the king, had been very ill for a long time and that he had sent his apologies to you for not being able to meet you this afternoon. He explained that they kept it from the realm so as to not worry the people of the realm.

“You mustn’t enter this hallway.”

You snapped out of your thoughts and looked at Aemond. You had exited the stairwell and were a floor above his chambers now. The hallway didn’t have any servants walking through and many of the white candles that lit it were almost fully burnt up.

“Why is that?” Your voice was laced with curiosity as you stared into the creepy hallway. It was long and quite dusty. The silence and darkness sent a shiver through your body but your body ached to find out what was located there.

“These are father’s chambers. He doesn’t like visitors. No one comes here except mother and the doctors.” Aemond replied sternly and gazed at you. You had made sure to walk on his right side so he could see you easily without having to turn his head too much.

“What? Really? Not even you or your siblings?”

“Yes.”

An awkward silence hung between the two of you but he eventually motioned at you to follow him to the next floor. You had only now realised you hadn’t asked him any questions about himself yet and you mentally cursed at yourself for not doing so.

“What is it that you do?” You asked him as you followed him through the hallways of the next floor. 

“I plan on opening a doctor’s practice and a morgue in King’s Landing.”

You were unsure on how to reply to that. Being a mortician was a rather dark profession, especially for a prince, but you knew many places in Westeros lacked one. Usually the septs handled all the burials of the deceased. 

“I studied medicine and anatomy in Old Town, I have only returned half a year ago.” He must’ve sensed your hesitancy to reply so he continued to speak but didn’t bother to look back at you. His body language screamed dominance and authority. He walked with his arms behind his back in a stiff manner. You simply nodded and picked up pace to catch up with him.

“Do you like it?”

“No.”

‘By the gods at least give me something to work with.’ You internally groaned.

“Why didn’t you like it?” 

“I prefer history and philosophy.” 

Now that was something you could work with. You loved history and a small smile tugged at your lips when you learned he did as well. At least there was something you and your betrothed had in common. 

“What kind of history do you enjoy the most? I enjoy learning about the Old North and The Children of the Forest.” 

His eyebrows raised a little in surprise and for the first time he actually turned his head to look at you instead of glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“I enjoy learning about my family history and the cultures of Essos and Sothoryos.”

He paused for a moment before speaking again.

“I didn’t expect you to like history, my lady.” 

A grin tugged at the corner of your lips, your hands were now behind your back as well, only your stature was a lot more relaxed than his. It was always easier to converse when the topic was something you enjoyed.

“Well, perhaps I am full of surprises.” 

You knew you had to win him over if you wanted a chance at a decent life with a husband that tolerated you. Of course, you couldn’t forget your father’s wishes as well. Investigating this family would be a lot easier with a husband that trusted you. 

The rest of the tour of the castle was a lot more pleasant than the first half. He showed you his workstation with medical supplies, located on the base level of the castle. The interior creeped you out a little. In his room were bottled up organs in a mixture you did not know the name of. His supplies were neatly stored in various cabinets and he showed you the books he had to use in his studies, promising you that you were always allowed to borrow one whenever you wanted. 

He had also promised to take you on a walk on the castle grounds the next day if the weather would allow it, after all, the storm was still raging outside. 

He had dropped you off back at your room after the tour. Wishing you a good night whilst he pressed a soft kiss against the back of your hand. You knew he was only being a gentleman but it still made your stomach flutter. The men in the North weren’t as chivalrous as men in the south. 

“Sleepwell my lady.” He said before turning around and walking away, his braid swaying a little from side to side and his footsteps echoing through the empty hall of the castle. 

A few maids helped you change into your nightgown and you dismissed them before they could help you into bed. You wanted a little more time writing in your notebook about the first day in the castle. You didn’t want to write much, after all, it would be a shame if you filled it too quickly.

- Night, the fifth day,  first month of the year 1871 -

I ate dinner with the family, most of them (Targaryen side) were quiet even after initiating conversation. I met my future husband and he seems like an intelligent man. All of them are quite secretive. The father of the family is ill, no one could tell me about his ailment and no one is allowed to go near his chambers. 

Who is Daeron Targaryen? 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Aaaa thank you all so much for reading the first chapter. I had a lot of fun writing and researching for it. I’m still not sure at how many chapters it will have but I'll keep you all updated.

If you want to be added to the taglist let me know! 🫶

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Taglist:

[cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme]

Can you write NSFW a/o SFW of elphet with a !Male S/O, that has a dragon gear

This basically turned into its own mini fic...

Also, why is pink so hard to make?

Now! Your wish is my command!

Warnings: Smut written by an Asexual at the end, impregnation kink, breeding kink

The two of you met for the first time when Elphelt was leaving the castle and you were turning in a bounty.

The two of you were both heading in the same direction, that direction being nowhere in particular.

So, the two of you just started walking.

Eventually, Elphelt introduced herself.

You did the same.

After a few days, the two of you had struck up a friendship and had officially become traveling companions.

Slowly, Elphelt found the direction she wanted to go.

And seeing as you had nothing better to be doing at the time, you followed her.

It was around this time that Elphelt noticed the Gear Suppressors you wore.

It was also around this time that Elphelt saw what happened when you took them off.

All it took was for a wild gear to wake up, and nearly kill the both of you.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Elphelt groaned as she regained consciousness, the last few minutes being a blank aside from the Gear sending her flying far, far away.

Though not so far away as to where she couldn’t see what was happening.

The massive hulking brute of a Gear roared as the white fire shot skywards as your hair grew five times its length, your nails sharpened into claws, your blood red eyes and the twin Gear brands on the back of your hands glowing as the inferno roared around you.

After that, the flames completely engulfed you, making it impossible for Elphelt to see you.

“I dislike using this too much. It’s all kinds of… nasty.” your distorted voice cut through the roaring flames, and then a Gear’s Brand appeared before you and a thunderous boom rang out.

In an instant, the entire upper right half of the massive gear was burned away.

“Madhouse Shot.” you declared as the inferno around you ceased.

In the place you stood was a creature that walked a fine line between machine, man, and monster.

A body of gunmetal gray, hair like fire that was held back by the spiked ridges of your now mask like face, metal and flesh merging into one across your entire body, razor sharp claws, your Brand now made of metal and five times as large and forming a sort of gauntlet.

Elphelt didn’t have time to admire you for long though, as the gear began to rapidly regenerate.

“Hmm… you're a tough one.” your distorted voice muttered as you grabbed your right wrist, closing your fist tight and opening it a few times before speaking once more with a sigh “Then it looks like I’ll have to be a little meaner.”

You raised your closed fist pointing directly at the Gear before speaking.

“Carnot Cycle Subjugator.”

In an instant the heat radiating off of you increased a thousand fold, the ground below you melting and bubbling, trees around you drying out and beginning to burn.

Then you opened a finger, and in turn, the heat multiplied several times over.

The ground then began to actually melt into slag, trees ignited, and all moisture in the air vanished.

You raised a second finger, and even Elphelt, despite how far away she had been flung, was struggling against the heat while the massive gear was pushed back by wave after wave of heat burning away his flesh.

“That should be more than enough. Now, stay very, very still. I don’t want to have to vaporize more of this place than I have to.” you declared before exhaling.

Then you said two words.

“Incinerators Anthem.”

In an instant, a wave of fire shot out from between your fingers.

Though, calling it merely “Fire” was doing it a great disservice.

It was more akin to a laser, completely vaporizing the Gear.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

After that, Elphelt was practically attached to you at the hip.

She was extremely curious about how there was a humanoid gear like you.

Though, she was a lot more excited about your firepower.

As soon as she was able to, she called Ramlethal and told her all about it.

To say that Ramlethal nearly blew a gasket upon hearing the story was an understatement.

You were quite surprised she didn’t fly over here herself to throttle Elphelt herself.

However, she was apparently dealing with a “Sassy Lost Child” that was trying to “Kill Evil Twink Jesus”.

She then had to hang up.

You were deeply concerned by this information.

To Elphelt, it was just another tuesday.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

A while after this, Elphelt started looking at you… oddly.

Like you were a piece of meat.

She also kept mentioning how “Hot” you were.

You didn’t understand this.

If she wanted to stay cool, she should stop booking rooms with only one bed.

This woman was an enigma to you.

Though.

Eventually.

With a great deal of obvious hints, especially in the lyrics of Elphelt’s songs.

You figured out what the answer to the Enigma of Elphelt Valentine was.

And not once had you ever felt so hot.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Elphelt was very public about the whole thing between you two.

She wanted EVERYONE to know exactly who she was with.

She wanted no doubt that you and her were official.

She even got the marriage papers framed.

The whole shebang really.

The wedding was a private affair.

Despite that, Slayer and his wife, Sharon, still managed to slip in since they both liked Elphelt’s songs.

Especially the ones about her falling in love with you.

No one questioned them.

They knew better.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The honeymoon was perhaps the single most physically straining month of your entire life.

If you weren’t a Gear you are completely sure that you would have come within a hair's breadth of death multiple times.

A fair few times was due to Elphelt just being so excited that she crushed you in a hug.

The rest of the times were due to you and her fucking like rabbits.

How such a small woman could have so much energy for sexual deviancy terrified you.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“AHH~!” Elphelt screamed in ecstasy as you slammed her into the side of the cliff with enough force to crater it, fucking her pussy like a wild animal and lighting her nerves on fire with every thrust.

“Oh~! Fu- Harder! Harder damn it! Show me how strong a Gear REALLY is!” Elphelt shouted to the heavens without care, knowing that there was not a single soul within two thousand miles of the island the two of you were on.

And you were not one to disappoint your beautiful wife.

So, you let loose a little more, your hair growing longer, nails sharpening, and magic infusing your body with power.

You didn’t transform all the way, you didn’t need your flames for anything here after all, but you transformed enough to get all the strength you had to spare.

This was more than enough for El to know she wasn’t going to be doing anything you didn’t want her to.

You had all the power you needed to turn her into a mess, just like she wanted.

So, you did just that.

You fucked her until the crater you made when you slamned her into the side of the cliff became a cave.

You fucked her until her mind was mush.

Until her throat had gone hoarse from screaming.

Until she instinctively wrapped her legs around you so tight that you could barely move.

Until the only thing coming out of her mouth was moans of pleasure and her incoherently mumbling about how this wasn’t a safe day for her.

Neither of you cared about that though.

The only thing you cared about was making sure that everyone knew exactly who Elphelt belonged to.

The only thing Elphelt cared about right now, with the last few shreds of sentient thought in her mind, was making sure everyone knew who you belonged to.

And so, she made sure you plowed her until her cunt was raw.

She egged you on, she made sure that every time you filled her pussy until it overflowed she had her legs locked tight around you, and she made sure to let you know exactly what was going to happen to her after the honeymoon, when the inevitable pregnancy began.

Every.

Exquisite.

Detail.

[cricketnationrise]

some sentence sunday 24.8

once again, it has been over a month, but in my defense, the beginning of the season at work is always a madhouse. anyway @shygryf i promise i am still working on your fic and it WILL get done! for all my check please girlies, pls enjoy some chaotic Tater with despairing Jack and reluctantly amused Bitty:

“See Zimmboni? Knocking worked. Tiny baker comes.”  The other man looks to the heavens in apparent despair.  “I mean I guess, but it’s still—" “Just a little rude?” Bitty asks as he opens the top half of the Dutch door. “A bit presumptuous even?” “Yes. You wouldn’t bang on anyone else’s door this early.” This close, without the glass muffling the sound, Bitty can hear the reasonable man’s accent. “Would.” “No, you wouldn’t.” “Snowy. Also Poots. Is character building for rookie.” “Well, alright but—" “Fascinating as this chin wag is so far,” Bitty drawls, “what are y'all actually here for?” “Pastry!” The taller man booms. His friend smacks him on the arm. “Please. If not too much trouble,” he adds, slightly chagrined.

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