#russell crowe smut

[hoppingonjim]

Thinking about a threesome with March and Healy where Healy is the gentler, nicer one. Praising the reader and making sure she feels good and then March is the meaner one. Mocking and teasing and just being a dick. idk man I’m a slut and I want both

TLDR: requesting good cop/bad cop (good detective/bad detective?) threesome with March and Healy content 🙏🙏🙏

INVESTIGATE ! - jackson healy + holland march

note: so sorry for how long this took! kept rewriting it lmaoo. i love this request since i too, am a slut for both. (jackson more but sssshhh) hope this is good!

cw: afab! reader. dom!holland. soft dom!jackson. sub!reader. degrading, impact play, slight throat fucking, creampie, unprotected sex, p in v, oral male receiving, praising, 2/3 holes filled (my dream). reader is cuffed and set a building on fire, so arson i suppose.

“only such a fucking slut would be turned on by fucking cuffs. say it, say you're a fucking slut.”

“ease up there march, don't you think that's a little rude? she's still a lady.”

“she's a fucking slut.”

the mustache man is pounding into you. hard, aggressive. another blow is landed on your ass cheek, the supple skin stinging with every aggressive smack. you've got your hands behind your back, bound by the chilled metal cuffs. another smack on your ass and holland settles his hand onto the gradual vanishing print, his nails digging into the flesh in greed. all the while you were crying out, whimpers filling your tongue and air around you in pleasure as you continued to press your reddened ass against his hand. begging for more.

the bigger man is settled in front of you, his cock hard. his tip engorged, red, leaking with pre cum the more he continues to watch the porno unfolding in front of his own eyes. licking his lips, his eyes stalk your every move. every heave, every wavering motion, every gasp. a hand combs through your hair as a means to settle you, his lips in a mix of stern and pouty, “doing so good for him, princess. bet you're nice and tight- but i can't stop looking at these pretty lips of yours. you mind putting them to use?” for a brief moment his large finger grazes over every imprint, line and dent molded into your bottom lip, coating the tip in your spit for a brief moment. hungry eyes meet your cock drunk ones - you've barely been fucked- and you both realize he should've been in your mouth a while ago.

all he needs from you is a nod, and his tip is suddenly suctioned with your lips. the pressure already forcing a groan from his parted lips, his mouth surrendering to the grunts of pleasure. holland rolls his eyes at his, digging his nails harsher into your bruised ass. the feeling of your tight pussy clenching him is heavenly, even holland can't deny that.

jackson's groans begin to intertwine with your whimpers as praises fall droplet by droplet from his parted lips, “you're already doing so good, take a little more for me baby, c'mon.”

a scoff flees from holland's lips until he spanks you several times in a row, “fuck, you like having a fucking cock in your mouth? i thought sluts like you only existed in pornos- you should feel how fucking soaked she is healy-” his own hand begins to slightly sting as he revels in the way you arch your back, your whimpers vibrating against jackson's cock- pulling harsher groans from the man. thick fingers run through your hair as the enforcers hips begin to introduce a sensation of grinding.

“fuck march, shut up, she's doing so good for me, already doing so perfect, huh baby?” those rough fingers trace gentle patterns onto your cheek. you begin to bob your head along the thickness of his cock, drool slipping off your lips. collecting around your chin, falling onto the girth of his pre cum dressed cock. his lips are surrendering to helpless groans as he encourages your cheeks to grow hollow, his thumb pressing the dent carefully onto the full skin.

the hand on your cheek migrates to your flowing tresses once again. the sweat building up is greeted by his fingers, combing and treating your strands to comfort. pushing the orphaned locks away from your face, “give me those pretty little eyes, c'mon princess,” always obedient, you wear an innocent gaze as your doll eyes gaze up at him, doe-like, “fuck yes, you listen so good princess.” and he's already falling to his pleasure.

the man's tepid grinds morph into desperate bucks. you've barely scarfed his cock down the depth of your throat and he swears he's already seeing stars. to amp up his desperation, he gingerly brought his pelvis closer towards your nose, introducing your throat to the fullness of his cock. immediately you gagged, the soul patch clad man behind you, ruining you, smirking so broadly.

“i know you can take it, you're doing so good for me.. fuck princess, that's it, such a good girl.” all because you're eagerly deepthroating the muscle man, the sound of your choking delighting him twistedly above all.

meanwhile holland's ramming his cock ruthlessly into your soaked cunt.

every time. he's holding your hips, slamming your ass against his pelvis so you can feel him penetrate you deeper. all while displaying a perverted grin at the sound of slapping skin, “fucking whore- mouth full of one man's cock while you let the other fuck you. you gonna let me cum inside you? pump you full of my cum?”

and shockingly enough you nod. all holland needed was the green light. but before he finally gave into those twitching sensations, he tugged on a fistful of your hair, forcing you to just barely look back at him, “you look like such a fucking whore- fucking hell..” and with those words he slapped your cheek before releasing you. minutes before releasing his hot cum into you, biting his bottom lip harshly as he soaked up the wonderous feeling. his high feeling more serendipitous.

jackson doesn't go to your unneeded aid when holland slaps your cheek, mainly because his own cock is twitching relentlessly and he so badly needs to fill your throat with his cum. an uncharacteristic whine slips out from the crevices of his lips. his balls are heavy- god the man needs to cum, you can just see it. and he does after one subtle ram into your mouth, coating your throat in his seed.

“oh god, oh god.. swallow for me baby, swallow all of it. i know you can, you were so good.” his eyes remain soft as his finger slips down to venture the curvature of your jawline. his fingertip kissing every arising goosebump.

your obedience shines once more as you merrily swallow all of his cum, leaving his cock with a pretty pop of your lips. licking your lips afterwards, still yearning for any leftovers.

abruptly holland hugs you off of all fours and onto his lap, the new angle forcing you to cry out his name, “mr march! holy shit!”

a smirk remains on his lips but only seems to broaden as he raises your hips up before plummeting them back onto his cock, delighting in every scream that ran from your tongue.

“you're gonna cum on my cock you whore, c'mon, i know a desperate whore like you is just begging to fucking cum..”

jackson feels an impetus to lean in, his thumb crafting delicate circles onto your clit whilst he leans in, “c'mon darling, cum for him, you know you can do it. i know you can do it,” he whispers, his thumb kissing your sensitive, needy bud, coated in arousal.

words don't leave your lips, only moans and whines. a few screams entangled in the bunch. you can feel yourself clench around holland, your hips and thighs beginning to quiver with anticipation as your high comes knocking on the door of your mind. and you give in, letting the sweet release bombard you. holland can feel the intensity, he's groaning so loudly in pleasure. feeling pleased with your submissiveness towards every single one of his requests. jackson doesn't let up however, he assists you in riding out the high with palming your clit. his rough palm, the aged lines, adding onto the experience. the texture toying with your abused clit.

“oh, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh god- oh mr march- oh mr healy.” everything is chopped however, leaving your mouth at different moments.

holland doesn't feel like sitting up anymore, and the man flops down. jackson meticulously brushes your hair once more, making your stunning face the focal point, “you were amazing darling, so so perfect.”

in all his sinful breathiness, with his cock still inside of you, holland speaks up, panting for anything that can relieve the lack of air in his system, his eyes still sinisterly sensual.

“don't think you'll get this cock though every time you light a building on fire.”

"mr march, can you take the cuffs off now?"

[fawninthesnow]

Could you please do a femme dom reader x emperor commodus fic ? :)

Eeee!! This was so much fun! <3 Thank you!

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧: One shot

𐙚 Emperor Commodus x Fem! Reader 𐙚 18+

Summary: You are the empress of Rome, married to the immature, Commodus. After an outburst, you chose to ignore his horny pleads.

Warnings/contains: fem dom, sub emperor, sub male, smut, oral (fem receiving), degradation, alcohol consumption, obsession, not proof read-- english is not my first language!

Word Count: 1.3k

More on my Master list! + follow & reblog pls

He paced the edge of the balcony, looking down at the distance between him and the stone path. “Bring her in.” The emperor spoke bitterly. The throne room doors were thrown open and a guard walked behind you.

The shackles around your wrists rattled as you walked, a leather gag between your teeth. Your dress flowed naturally with every step. You did not need to speak, the hatred for him cut through your gaze. You did not attempt to talk, that would only make him laugh. You were not here for his entertainment, regardless of his intentions.

“Come closer.” You stood straight, your two feet were planted on the tile. “Come here!” You shifted your eyes away from him and to the tanned guard who led you inside. A rather sly smile on your lips as your disregarded the man. “Bring her here, dammit!” The guard, now with pink blush over his cheeks and nose, pulled you closer to the emperor. Commodus grabbed you by your throat, pulling you close enough for your nose for touch his, “You will respect me in my palace. This is my empire, and I demand respect from every man, woman, and whore! Now, you will love me! You will love me, [Y/n]!” He gripped your neck tighter.

You laughed, a bit a saliva leaving your mouth due to the gag. With a struggle, you pulled off the gag, your wrists felt raw from the strain and weight of the shackles. “Someone undo these.” You turned away from him.

“Look at me!”

You continued to look away from him, “Get these off of me.” You said softly to the guards around the room.

“Yes, my empress!” One guard ran to your assistance and unlocked the shackles.

“I will have you killed.” Commodus angrily spat. “I will have you killed!” He leaped at the man, a hiss sound from his mouth.

You moved the guard from the way, “Commodus, leave the room!”

“You do not tell me what to do.” He said, keeping his gaze on the guard who you so calmly protected.

You ignored him and received a warm woven coverup from a servant. “Ignore his outburst. I am going to turn in for the night. Please be sure my fireplace is ablaze.”

Commodus turned to the sight of you leaving the throne room. You were so unbothered by him, unfazed—beautifully so. He sneered at the loss of attention from you. He huffed; his heart began to thump rapidly in his chest.

He quickly followed you until you reached your corridor. He peeked around the corner of your quarters, looking inside. You warmed yourself by the fire and gently rubbed a soothing cream over your wrists. The windows in your room were covered and every corner had a small pit of wood burning to keep the space warm.  “…May I come inside?”

You looked over your shoulder at the man who faced his feet. “Do not come any closer than the entrance statues.” You said rather dismissively.

“May we talk?”

“Now you are civil? Do not make me laugh, Commodus.” You said with amusement. “You have the temper of a small child, and the patience of a rich man. I guess that is fitting because you are one.”

Commodus clutched his fists before frowning, “You have said.”

“Yet you do not listen.”

“I apologize, [Y/n].” You waved a hand of dismissal and continued to prepare for bed; your attention on anything but him. “I mean it this time! I truly do!” He went to his knees as you rubbed oils into your skin, massaging African shea butter into your palms before spreading it up and down your legs. “[Y/n]? Please. Please?” His laments echoed throughout your chamber; his hand dared up your soft thigh.

“Stop!” You slap him across his cheek, “You whore!” You stood above him, a look of disgust on your face. “I want nothing from you. You are a disrespectful, worthless boy!” He basked in the pain from your slap, soaking in the heat of the moment. “You do not deserve a dammed thing from me.” Your fingers held onto his jaw, a tight grasp that marked his face red. Your nails were long, manicured and your skin was smooth. Your beautiful face so close to his made heat rise from his loins to his cheeks. “You know the only reason I maintain composure is to please your father’s wishes, rest his soul! I do not want to see your face, Commodus.” His manhood grew stiff and sensitive beneath his clothes.

He clenched his jaw in your hand, a deep gulp made his Adams apple shift downward. “But I missed you.”

“That is not the way to bring me back to the palace.”

“You ran away from me!”

“You are paranoid. Get out of my sight.” He remained at your feet; his hand rose to your hips. You slapped his cheek again. The man bit his lip, letting his palms rest on the marble floor. “You lack discipline. Your father could not give it to you. Now that I am here, you seek some sort of sexual relief from me?! I am not your common whore, you bastard!” He looked up at you with his deep blue eyes. The reflection of fire in his full irises.

“I love you, [Y/n]. You are my empress.”

“That is right! I am! So how dare you embarrass me?! Embarrass yourself!” You let go of his face, your nails scratched his face as you left. “Go with your whores, leave me be.”

“Please…please, my love.”

“I am not your love, you dog.” You spat down onto his face. He moved his tongue and fingertips, moving your saliva into his mouth. “You are filthy.”

“I would do anything for you.”

“No, you would do anything *to* me. You are unwell. Sickened with power.” He nodded, rubbing the side of his face against your hip. From his robes, his shaft grinds against his thigh slowly. A pleasurable moan left his lips as he continued. You moved away from him and sat on the plush chair across from the fireplace, your feet rested on an ottoman.

“Please, look at me.” You said nothing, shifting your eyes towards the door. “I do not want to leave, [Y/n].” His voice cracked, leaving him embarrassed. “Please.” He continued to rub himself, however, deriving little to any pleasure from it.

You poured yourself a glass of wine and sipped from it. “You are pathetic.”

“I am.” He continued to stare at your beautiful face as you drank.

“You deserve nothing from me, might I repeat.” You finished off your glass as his head lay on your lap. His fingertips pull at the fabric of your dress, shifting it away. “I was a princess back home. I had more freedoms than I have now as Empress.” You mumbled rather to yourself as he buried his head between your thighs. You paranoid fuck…” A moan slipped from your mouth as his warm tongue circled your clitoris. Your thighs tightened and raised in shock. “W- wh-“

His head hid under your dress as he suckled on your firm clitoris. You could feel your womanhood throb with need upon feeling those sensations. “I- I’m sorry.” You held the back of his head, keeping him still. His tongue was quick and skillful as it flicked against your clitoris. His thumb gently held up the hood of your clitoris; barely moving. Your thighs trembled; an unsure panting left your lips.

Commodus moaned back as your warm walls engulfed his tongue. His nose pressed against your clit; his lower face now wet with your mess. “C- Commodus! I h- hate you!” He could not see your face, not that you wanted to see his, as two of his digits slipped into your slippery cunt. Your fingers tore into the upholstery of your seat. His tongue lapped and sucked on your clitoris as his fingers dug deep inside of you. The pads of his fingers pushed up onto your sensitive spot.

You felt yourself climax over his fingers, however, he continued. Your cunt pulsed with pleasure. “M- my empress.” The man muttered as he suckled softly on the center of your clit.

More on my Master list! + follow & reblog pls

Thx for reading!! Happy new year! <3

Frohes neues Jahr, meine lieben! Ich habe diesen Monat eine neue Serie und kann es kaum erwarten, sie zu teilen! Mwah! <3

[random-imagines-blog]

Celebrity Masterlist (L-Z)

In an attempt to organize the blog and keep everything in order, masterlists are being made to join together into a masterlist of masterlists to make it easier for those on mobile. Thanks for being patient!

smut is indicated with a ⭐

Lee Pace

Oneshots

To Die For

Imagines

Imagine Lee Pace listening along to the bedtime story you’re reading your kids.

Imagine Lee Pace wanting to talk to you but he keeps being called away to set.

Imagine constantly making fun of Lee Pace’s wig on set.

Imagine going to a waterpark with Lee Pace, and his expression when he first sees you in your bathing suit.

Imagine marrying Lee Pace.

Luke Evans

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine helping Luke Evans pick out his outfit of the day.

Imagine Luke Evans surprising you on Valentines Day with chocolate and candy.

Imagine impulsively inviting Luke Evans to go skinny-dipping with you.

Margot Robbie

Oneshots

Run To You

Imagines

Mark Ruffalo

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine showing Mark Ruffalo your more spontaneous side.

Imagine Mark Ruffalo meeting your parents.

Imagine watching the sunset with Mark Ruffalo.

Michael Fassbender

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine watching old movies with Michael Fassbender.

Imagine Michael Fassbender trying to make you blush from across the room.

Miscellaneous

Oneshots

Calling All Heroes (Avengers Cast)

Animal (Avengers Cast)

Imagines

Imagine the rest of the Avengers cast finding out you’re a self-harmer.

Imagine your co-workers on the Avengers films confronting you about your eating disorder.

Imagine the Marvel cast finding out you’re suicidal.

Nathan Fillion

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine constantly being late to events because Nathan always wants you.

Imagine Nathan Fillion forgetting that it’s your anniversary.

Noel Fielding

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine Noel Fielding being captivated at first sight.

Imagine always being able to make Noel Fielding laugh.

Imagine making Noel Fielding’s birthday cake.

Imagine hitting it off with Noel Fielding on The Great British Bake-Off.

Norman Reedus

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine Norman Reedus catching sight of you for the first time after the hard break up.

Imagine domestic life with Norman Reedus.

Imagine helping Norman find a good place to hide from Paparazzi.

Imagine Norman Reedus trying to tell you that he loves you but having difficulty.

Orlando Bloom

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine Orlando Bloom talking about meeting you on the set of LOTR.

Imagine getting stuck in a tree with Orlando Bloom.

Imagine being at a fair with Orlando Bloom.

Owen Wilson

Oneshots

Flight Connection

Imagines

Patrick Dempsey

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine Patrick Dempsey showing up too early for dinner and seeing you in just a towel.

Robert Downey Jr

Oneshots

Ambulances (Teen!Reader!Mentor)

Imagines

Ruby Rose

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine Ruby Rose catching you crying.

Imagine blurting out to Ruby Rose that you love her.

Imagine living with Ruby Rose and sharing a bathroom.

Rupert Grint

Oneshots

In the Nightside of Eden

Imagines

Russell Crowe

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine a midnight drive with Russell Crowe.

Ryan Reynolds

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine the moment Ryan Reynolds realizes he wants to marry you.

Imagine Ryan Reynolds taking you to a fair and taking care of you when you get dizzy.

Imagine Ryan Reynolds running into car trouble while taking you on vacation.

Scarlett Johansson

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine Scarlett Johansson becoming a motherly figure to you.

Sebastian Stan

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine Sebastian Stan taking sign language classes for you.

Imagine Sebastian Stan trying to entice you into joining his photoshoot.

Imagine Sebastian Stan coming to visit you in your small town.

Imagine Sebastian Stan really enjoying spending time with you.

Imagine being sick, and Sebastian Stan constantly checking on you.

Timothee Chalamet

Oneshots

This is the Place

Imagines

Tom Cruise

Oneshots

The Fix

Breathless

Shine

If Ever

Certain Needs

Imagines

Imagine spending Christmas with Tom Cruise.

Imagine Tom Cruise taking care of you when you’re sick.

Imagine your family being formed around Top Gun.

Imagine being comforted by Tom Cruise.

Imagine falling in love with Tom Cruise.

Imagine having a child with Tom Cruise.

Imagine getting pregnant with Tom Cruise’s child.

Imagine Tom Cruise acting as the ‘dancer’ at your Bachelorette Party.

Imagine Tom Cruise taking care of you when you’re scared of getting your heart broken.

Imagine Tom Cruise surprising you with a new bag.

Imagine staying at a winter resort with Tom Cruise.

Imagine spending Valentine’s Day with Tom Cruise.

Imagine being caught with Tom Cruise in public.

Imagine going on a walk with Tom Cruise.

Tom Hiddleston

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine an eccentric director putting you and Tom into a house to test chemistry.

Imagine constantly teasing Tom in interviews.

Imagine working with Tom Hiddleston on a horror film.

Imagine Tom Hiddleston approaching you at a bookstore.

Imagine walking in the rain, and Tom Hiddleston spots you and saves you from the cold with his umbrella.

Tom Holland

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine being silly at a con with your coworker Tom Holland.

Tom Sturridge

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine Tom Sturridge having a crush on you.

Imagine having a late breakfast with Tom Sturridge.

Imagine being Tom Sturridge’s wife and finding out you’re pregnant.

Walton Goggins

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine meeting Walton Goggins on set, and falling in love.

Zachary Quinto

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine hiring a sky-writer for Zachary Quinto’s birthday.

Imagine making Zachary Quinto laugh during an interview.

[mockerycrow]

CROW’S 4K CELEBRATION GUIDELINES

I truly cannot express my gratitude for all of your love and support over the last couple of months. I never imagined I would hit even 1k, and now I’m at 4k?? holy. fuckin. shit. I love you all!!!

NO LONGER ACCEPTING 4K REQUESTS <3

-> GUIDELINES BELOW THE CUT <-

RULES

PROPER REQUEST FORMAT: “character x gender!reader w/ “insert prompt here” + an AU if you would like :-)

One character per request (unless it’s character x reader x character! (i.e ghost x fem!reader w/ “i can’t do it anymore.”)

Specify the gender you would like. plain “character x reader” will result in gender neutral.

AU’s are allowed.

See my general request rules.

please be patient!! i will get these out asap.

not all of these will be full fledged 3k+ word fics!!

characters that I will be writing for this celebration (all call of duty); ghost, gaz, soap, price (including reboot and og), roach, könig, alex keller, farah karim, kate laswell, alejandro vargas, rodolfo parra, russell adler, frank woods, alex mason, jason hudson, david mason, gideon, jack mitchell, keegan russ, logan + hesh walker.

PROMPTS

fluff prompts #1

fluff prompts #2

angst prompts #1

angst prompts #2

smut prompts #1

smut prompts #2

-> 4K Celebration Posts Masterlist

[cosmicwolvie]

I want someone to write a smut with Drover from Australia during a camp out... please .?

@russell-crowe @pedroscurls @briseroyawritingsblog

#Australia

#Drover

[prettylittlels]

🪷 get to know me 🪷

requests are open!!

i was born in argentina, hence english is not my first language

i've loved reading and writing since i was very little: my favourite books are the six of crows duology by leigh bardugo and if we were villains by m.l. rio

i love watching movies/ tv series: currently watching pjo

i also obsess with celebrities and/or fictional characters very quickly

fandoms:

pjo, hpo, six fo crows, the hunger games, lockwood n co, etc...

celebrities i love:

ben barnes, tom blyth, tom holland, oscar isaac, etc

music:

taylor swift, olivia rodrigo, tate mcrae, j. maya, etc

you can ask about me or send requests whenever you like ☕️🕯🎞🍸

who do i write for:

f1 drivers (lando norris, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, daniel ricciardo, max verstappen, oscar piastri, lewis hamilton, fernando alonso, sebastian vettel, alex albon, george russell, kimi raikkonen, yuki tsunoda)

f2 drivers (liam lawson, ollie bearman, arthur leclerc, paul aron, kimi antonelli)

i won't write smut, just suggestive.

gender neutral or fem!reader

masterlist

[itooaminthisepisode]

hiii thanks for the tag!! held off on posting this cause i knew i would be uploading another fic by the end of the year and i wanted to include it lol :3

thank you @spicedrobot for the template! and without further ado, here's my wrapped!

66k words is an absolutely insane number of words that i never dreamed i would be able to write in the span of a year and yet somehow here i am. Holy Shit!!! i'm pretty sure that's more writing (or at least creative writing) in one year than i've done in the rest of my life combined.

without further ado here's an overview of all the fics i've written this year, with a little added commentary because i love yapping!! below a cut cause it got kinda long:

something sweet and safe - after wilson flirts with a nurse at work, house decides to put him in his place.

this one was my first published smut and my first foray into horrible freaknasty old man porn!! dove straight in headfirst and have never looked back since :3 need to do something with this dynamic again at some point... hmmm ;)

sick little feelings in my sick little brain - house makes wilson piss in his mouth. that's it, that's the fic.

piss md!! featuring house and wilson's (absolutely canon) shared piss kink!! i just think house should make wilson do horrible humiliating things alright. also i've had a sequel outlined for like literally MONTHS at this point i just haven't gotten around to it yet... but next year. stay tuned👀 (also maybe a third one as well we'll see how it goes!!)

wiped away my thoughts and cares - wilson sometimes struggles with incontinence. house decides to help in a rather... unorthodox way.

wilson abdl because i cannot resist putting that man in a situation!! spent two hours total writing this one (including editing) which is literally the least time i've spent on a fic Ever and somehow it's my favourite out of all 38(!!) that i wrote this year. this is another one that i am doing more of in 2025 trust🤞 little wilson is so precious to me i cannot resist him🥺

look at those puppy dog eyes - house and wilson try out petplay for the first time, and - to no one's surprise - they like it. a lot.

this is actually the first fic i started writing in 2024! i just got major writers block towards the end and left it sitting half-finished for months. but then i wrote a couple other fics and came back to it with fresh eyes and i'm really proud of how it turned out!! another dynamic that i rotate in my brain a lot. ouppies <3

i wanna throw you to the hounds - house is a werewolf - and sometimes, he can get a little... frisky when he's transformed.

this was the fic i was most nervous to post (yes, even more so than the abdl one), but im so glad ppl seemed to like it cause like. Waow :3 another one where i just put wilson in a situation!! also i love writing him having a moral crisis but doing it anyway purely cause house wants to :3

whumptober 2024 - all the filled prompts from this year's whumptober! some are short, some are longer, all of them are emotionally damaging in some shape or form.

okay look if i listed each individual fic in this series we'd be here all day so i'm just gonna talk abt whumptober as a whole. but it was SO MUCH FUN!!! wrote em in like three weeks, was churning out like 2 or 3 a day by the end, and was delirious with fever for a significant chunk of time but i'm so proud of myself for finishing in time!! if all goes well i'll be participating in 2025, albeit with slightly better planning and pacing this time!! :D

can you catch me when i'm falling down? - wilson's been having a bad day. luckily, house knows just what to do to make him feel better.

my gift for @russell-crowe as part of the 20th anniversary exchange! it was a little different to write to someone else's specifications cause i've never done it before and it's out of my comfort zone, but it was a super fun challenge and i enjoyed it a lot!! will definitely participate in this again if it runs in 2025, cause it's such a good way to feel connected within the fandom!! :D

this year's for me and you - house hangs mistletoe above wilson's doorway in an attempt to fluster him. wilson isn't so easily fooled, however, and he finds a way to beat house at his own game.

my final fic this year!! this one is another gift, this time for @nekomura-chanzu as part of the holiday gift exchange!! had a blast writing this one, it was a nice break from all the whump and smut. nothing like a sweet silly fluff fic to end the year with a bang! :3

and that's it!! what a brilliant year it's been, and here's to 2025 being even greater!

i never know who to tag for these things (social anxiety will do that😅) but to any housefic authors seeing this, feel free to add on!! <3

my ao3 wrapped! tagged by @greghousebignaturals, template by @spicedrobot

2024 was my first year of getting back into writing fanfic since literally 5 years ago - and I only got back into it in the second half of the year (and I'll still be posting more stuff before 2024 is over lbr)

very briefly, these are the House fics I wrote this year, in chronological order:

Kill the Mood: Hilson try doing doctor roleplay during sex (and fail)

Bonk: Wilson gets a concussion :)

Don't Touch Me: Wilson hates physical contact and has a bad time

inappropriate use of hospital technology: House sends Wilson a dickpic and trans!Wilson jerks off about it

acting like a tough guy: House avoids Wilson on Valentine's Day (Wilson is very endeared by this)

sleep(less): Wilson is sleep deprived to the point of hallucinating a week after he started dating House

Slow Blink: Wilson is turned into a kitten. House is confused by cat body language

ow: trans!Wilson has period cramps

oh, and one more thing: Wilson gets hurt, House mother hens him, Wilson is a little shit

Want/Deserve/Receive: Wilson starts dating House and freaks out because he doesn't feel like he's allowed to be happy

the truth I chose to bend myself around: House accidentally takes truth serum. Nobody believes him (wip)

Tie Me Up, Pull My Leash: Wilson bets House to wear a tie and then tugs on it like a leash and they make out about it

I'm tagging @itooaminthisepisode and @oldmanffucker and @coffins-and-marbles and @defibrillism (if you wanna)

template below

[wayward-persephone]

Talking to my lovely friend @purplelupins about this dream I had about being forced to do porn because ✨Money Issues✨ and my costar was Goodnight Robicheaux in all his cowboy glory 🥴

And now I can't stop thinking about all of Ethan Hawke's characters in their respective "roles" as porn actors and you as the new actress getting fucked until you cry 😌

[dogmascutie]

oh my god i actually cannot believe i'm saying this but if boba and fennec fuck he calls her mommy in bed

[hoppingonjim]

I just love how much you love Jackson Healy too! I had a fun little idea if you wanted to explore it for him. On an unexpectedly rainy day in LA, Jackson pulls over to give the reader a ride so she decides to thank him by riding him too 🤭

RIDING DIRTY- healy !

note: he's my fav, ever. i'm so uggggh in love w him. #jacksonarmy . i'm more in love w this idea though omg but so sorry for the wait on this! if it sucks, lmk and i'll rewrite ofc

cw warnings: riding, afab!reader, sex as payment, car sex, dad bods, pet names, unprotected sex (dont be silly, cover your willie), fat cocks, jackson healy and his stupid little rants, p in v, nipple suckling, brief spanking cause jackson loves ass, mentions of aftercare, horny fucks.

the forecast forgot to mention the abundance of moody clouds that doomed the sky. their tears hammering down on your head. you didn't prepare for this, you were overjoyed in the morning with the proposal of a jog. you didn't need your car to get to work, you didn't need your car to get back from work. the day was supposed to bloom with hues of blue and green, bubbling from every surface.

except the meteorologists must've not predicted anything right. read all of the signs wrong. here you were, sidewalk, thumb up, begging in the persistent rain for a stranger's commitment to kindness.

a 66 healy pulls up. the cream color molding in with the rain. you vigorously raise your thumb, bobbing it upwards repeatedly. just to catch his attention. it's a miracle when he pulls over, opening the door for you.

"thank you, thank you-" you're stammering over your own grattiude as you hop into shotgun. then you get a full view of the man. he's tall, you can tell that by his posture- he's bigger, scruffy, looks almost like the danger that follows you home on an empty street, but those eyes are soft. the smile is gentle and almost like grandma's homemade treats. though despite the bigger figure of the man, there's strength in his grip. his knuckles clutching tightly onto the wheel, his triceps peeping through only slightly through the tropical shirt he wore.

a deep laugh bellows from the man once he resumes driving, "no problem, where you headed?" like his laugh, his voice is even low. deep. like his facial hair, his voice is scruffy.

you smile, "home. two rights, then a left.. i didn't expect it to be raining today."

"don't think anyone did honestly, damn meteorologists. y'know- i always wanted that job. can be wrong every damn day and still make a good living. i'm just not good with.. science and that- crap."

his own vernacular slips from his curved lips in a homely fashion and it's clear to you that it embarrasses him. there's a flush on his cheeks, he wants to seem more proper to you. as if you should feel completely fine about being in the car, on a rainy night, with a stranger. a man, for that matter.

though his eyes widened slightly when you laugh, the flushed color on his cheeks wisping away, "my dad used to always say that!"

"dad's a smart fella then." he nods, his wipers squeaking just slightly. clearly the beaut of a ride isn't so creamy wheeling as the colors leads you to believe, "names jackson, jackson healy- and yours?"

you smile as you tell him your name before perking an eyebrow upwards, "healy? is.. that a reason why you bought this car then? an austin-healy?"

a small shrug complements another chuckle, "i guess so, yeah. jimmy-rigged it a bit though, had to for days like today. but i mainly bought it because of the look. it's classic- don't find many classics today, and this new generation wants to keep up with the minimalist colors. i wish people could still appreciate the beauty in color." with passion he drives more cautiously, eyes flickering over towards you. taking in the sight he didn't observe before.

though his rants translates into something more poetic for you. you've known the man, jackson, for nearly five minutes- or was it ten? in such a short time he was sharing concerns with you, leveling a conversation. it was magnetic. sure his outward appearance pulled you in, you liked the dad bod type, but now his words kept you there. this stranger had a force you just couldn't seem to halt.

"i like the classics too, a lot prettier. mustangs, my dad had one.. always my favorite. a green one too, i like that color."

"green is a nice color."

the car ride goes slightly silent. he's concentrated on the slippery road, not wanting to danger either one of you. the directions you provided him repeat in his mind. his turns are graceful, he slows down, he checks every which way, you see it through the stare in his eyes that safety is the most important thing to him. it only fuels your attraction.

it wasn't like the sun was out moments before, the rain dulled it away. though now it only seemed to be a memory, the dark sky implanted with foreign light screeching from posts down the street. flickering in their neglect.

"tell me which one it is, then i'll be on my way." the gentle air of his voice never deserts him, it sweeps you closer.

nodding, you wait till he reaches the small, narrow box you call home. his tires slip just a tad when he pulls into your driveway, he expects you'll be rushing out the door- eager to get away from the stranger.

"well, here's your place i guess."

a chuckle rumbles his body, you undo your seatbelt, but your door hasn't even been opened yet, "you really helped me out jackson.." you begin, voice almost sultry as you shift your body in order to face him better.

the words you hum force the flushed red color to return to his cheeks. there's an incantation in your tone, he's sure of it, "well it's not problem-"

you're biting your lip now, in that sex icon type way. a bombshell needing to show thanks, "still, you didn't have to do it.. i can pay you back-"

"no." he cuts you off instantly, his breath stuck in his own windpipe. his throat choked out by the thick atmosphere suddenly gassing his car, "you're sweet honey, but i don't need money, i like helping people out.."

it's your turn to cut him off, not with words, but just with a laugh, "who said i would pay you back in money?"

a gulp flushes out his entire flustered demeanor. it's a different man now, one in the driver seat for this conversation. a smirk plays out on his lips, the click of his seatbelt whisking away, "what thought have you got going on in that pretty mind of yours then, huh? you really gonna pay a stranger back, in sex? you don't know me, you barely know me." a predatorial gaze falls onto you, he sees you squirming in your seat. his words driving you mad. your breathing fills up the void, until he pats his thigh.

crawling over the armrest, you situate yourself into his lap. those big hands flock to your waist, already beginning to guide you into the rhythm of grinding, ensuring you feel the affects of your words.

"you're so hard," and you're already letting the man slide down your pants, fingers teasing the dampness slowly ruining your panties.

"my words get you all wet?"

only a stiff nod is given before his thumb drags over your bottom lips. when lips part, his thumb drags down the bottom one, all delicate. though his eyes find more amusement in watching the way yours so intently focus on each move of his. the way he then orders you to kiss him, through a migration of his thumb- down to your chin.

his lips are refreshing. they don't taste of casual smoke or a bottle of whisky. there's no pungent taste, only the refreshment of wannabe crooners and style. he's hungry, he's pulling you closer and a hand is already tugging down your panties. the taste of your tongue is leaving gold in his senses and he feels he needs more. gripping and groping every last inch of you. raising and lowering you. slipping a hand downwards just to feel what he's really done to you- index finger swiping your slick.

"you're so beautiful."

into your lips he mutters more compliments about your scent, your sweetness, he way you turn him on. your beauty, never calls you sexy however. never calls you hot.

with extreme reluctance you pull away, needing every breath you can get, "i need you, let me pay you back-" "fuck yeah, okay, okay.. okay princess." he's finding something to do in the means of lifting off your shirt, unhooking your bra. it's impressive, how swift he is with it. meanwhile you're undoing his jeans, unbuttoning that beach kissed shirt. you attempt to slip the shirt completely off of him, though he shakes his head. if there is a later- you'll ask him about that.

his cock is hard, needy. his tip engorged and dripping with precum. ready for you to rock him properly for payment, "c'mon princess." his encouraging words leave you sliding on top of him. letting his thick cock fill you out.

a groan flees from him in shock at how you didn't even ease into it. his hands migrate to your hips, nails digging into the supple skin, "good girl, such a good girl." after he bucks his own hips upwards, you begin to rock on him.

you start off slow, this time you're easing into it. moans already falling from your throat- begging. begging for yourself to go just a little faster, grow more accustomed to this heavenly sensation. groans fill the car, bouncing off of your pretty sounds. the ones he can't get enough of.

"you're already so good, you know that? so good, so good already?"

the encouragement prompts you to pick up the pace. careful rocks quickly turning reckless. you're attempting to feel every inch of him, squeezing his cock with pleasure. a hand lands a blow onto your ass, but it doesn't sting. it only accelerates the thrill. those moans raise in a pitch, stumbling over one another. a new sound emerges in the car, tangoing with the sinful audio from your mouth and his- the sound of skin slapping, hard. it's as if this will never happen again. every rock, the eventual bounces, they're all desperate. your nails dig into his broad shoulders, feeling his strength. adoring his strength. you want to speak to him, the words won't barge through.

similarly he tries speaking to you, but the low grunts and groans barricade any praises. the most he can do is continue to squeeze your ass cheek, sprinkling in a spank when he deems it necessary.

the sound of rain is drowned out by the payment of sex. with your back arched, jackson realizes he has a better view of your nipples. just to throw you increasingly off the edge, he leans in, suckling on one. swirling his tongue around the hardened bud, groaning against the sensitive skin. begging to feel you release your serendipity onto him.

"holy shit- holy shit what're you- what're you-" it's becoming too much. your hands leave his shoulders and find solace in gripping on tightly to his slicked hair. the premediated waves crashing from your unwavering grasp. victims to the way you pull whenever your bouncing forces his cock to hit a special, sweet spot of yours.

he's twitching now, you can feel it. it sends you into a flight, working overtime to feel every inch of him. losing yourself on his lap. it's hectic and he finds it amazing, heavy breathing and gasps bombarding his conscious.

"gonna cum- gonna cum, oh fuck.."

you do. it's heaven. the gates are in front of you when you are embraced by the enchanting kiss of an orgasm. cum coating his cock, remnants of the way you worked so hard.

"me too, princess, gonna- gonna give it to you-"

the severity of his own forces him to pull away from your suckled, swollen nipples. a string of saliva breaking down onto your breast. with force he takes brief, very brief control, and slams you down upon him. the biggest motivator for him to shoot his load inside of you was feeling you cum. that was enough for him. and an extreme turn on.

it feels otherworldly when you feel him unload inside of you. a stranger. filling you up with his hot cum. decorating your insides with arousing moments.

while trying to catch your breath, you two stare at each other. eyes looking for disapproval in each other. you don't find any. just satisfaction, and hints of longing.

amidst the gasps and beckons for air. helpless pants. the rain peeps through the windows, shattering every sense of urgency. tapping along the hood.

fingers trace circles on your back, gingerly grazing, "stay here for a moment."

[heartofwritiing]

Here you will find my fics surrounding earth 616 and the multiverse!

☁️= fluff 💋=smut 🥀=angst 💭= headcanon 🌱= short fic 📖: = long fic

Steve Rogers

Nightmares: Following the events of Infinity war, you have a nightmare and wake up next to Steve in the compound and he comforts you. ☁️🥀

Druig (Eternals)

Almost lost you: During the emergence you think you’ve lost druig and your emotions get the better of you. eternal!reader ☁️🥀

mind at ease: reader can’t sleep so druig stays up with her 🌱☁️

Sundress: Druig can’t control himself seeing you in a sundress ☁️💋

And in the crowed, I see you with someone else: y/n is in love with druig and one night during a celebration she sees druig being close with makkari and she’s heartbroken. ☁️🥀

Ill look after you: during a deviant attack, you get hurt protecting druig. 🥀

Breeding/Pregnancy kink w Druig headcanon 💋

Adore you: druig is jealous of everyone having your attention instead of him. ☁️

Don’t you love me anymore?: Druig has been distant lately and you have a breakdown. 💋☁️🥀

Darling if you only knew: reader has a crush on druig but little dose she know he feels the same way. ☁️🌱

Don’t hide: druig is scared to open up to you ☁️🥀

In his hands: a very short smutty piece i wrote 💭💋

Always come for you (part one): after the events of eternals comes the arrival of eros, who has news of the rest of your family being captured by arishem. Determined to get them back you and the four other remaining eternals including a dane whitman set off on a rescue mission. 🥀☁️📖

A moth to the flame series: hades!druig x persephone!reader ☁️🥀

Peter Parker (mcu)

nothing yet!

Peter Parker (tasm)

Nothing yet!

Bucky Barens

nothing yet!

Stephen Strange

nothing yet!

Matt Murdock

Hair cut: reader gets a hair cut and doesn’t like it ☁️

Too Far: you let a very frustrated matt take it all out on you but what happens when he takes things a little too far.💋🥀

Jack Russell (werewolf by night)

Your Scent: Jack’s inner wolf kicks in after smelling your scent, causes him to go into a sniffing fit on you ☁️🌱

Warmth: Jack wants to keep you warm after the events of wbn. ☁️🌱

Full Moon: Jack is scared to tell you he’s a werewolf. ☁️

Protector: Jack protects his best friend, you, from another wolf, and feelings are confessed. ☁️

[speak-softly-love]

Writing/RP Muse List

Maximus from Gladiator

Jack Aubrey from Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World

Robin Longstride from Robin Hood

SID 6.7 from Virtuosity

Inspector Javert from Les Misérables

Jim Braddock from Cinderella Man

John Nash from A Beautiful Mind

Richie Roberts from American Gangster

Bud White from L.A. Confidential 

Jackson Healy from The Nice Guys

Russell Crowe  (respectful asks only, please. No smut)

[demivampirew]

Keep Calm and go to London chapter 18

The story is about Henry, not Geralt (only using this gif because it fits perfectly for this chapter)

Synopsis: This is the story of (y/n), a successful actress,  musician, musical producer and songwriter. After battling depression and  breaking up a long relationship, she seeks for a change of air,  escaping LA for a while going to visit some friends in London and there  she meets Henry. -Disclaimer: some chapters are mostly smut.

Previous Chapters:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5 (smut)

Chapter 6

Chapter 7 (smut)

Chapter 8 (smut/roleplay)

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12 (smut)

Chapter 13

Chapter 14 (smut)

Chapter 15

Chapter 16 (smut/ s&m) Chapter 17

Triggers:   Smut (I know, too much smut chapters 😁 😂 🤣 , but this chapter needed to have smut, you’ll see why 😜 ); mention of rape, sex trafficking and panic attacks (while talking about a movie; only mention those words, not describing anything them in any way)

Tag list:  Here’s the incredible people who showed me support (thank  you    so  much for that) and people who asked me to tag them too  ☺️   (I    think  I will write a few chapters of this story, if you want me to  tag     you, tell me ☺️   ) @cavillanche @mary-ann84 @henry-owns-these-tatas @yespolkadotkitty @dancingwendigo   constip8merm8     penwieldingdreamer iloveyouyen  littlefreya  wondersofdreaming    alyxkbrl solariumss  sweetybuzz25 @thethirstyarchive @agniavateira   @honeyloverogers @hell1129-blog   @lunedelorient​  @michelle-1185​  

During quarantine, Henry spend lots of time cooking delicious meals, bread and desserts for the two of you. He pretended not to be good, but low key you knew that he wanted compliments because his food was freaking fantastic and you were sure he knew that already. He was in the kitchen preparing cookies for you an afternoon snack. Meanwhile, you entertained him dancing around, there were some real dance moves there, but mostly silly things that you did intend to make him laugh. Lizzo's "Juice", Nicky Minaj's "Anaconda", Rihanna's "Bitch better have my money", Bruno Mars's "24K Magic" were some of the songs you choose to perform for him. You closed your little show with N*Sync's "Bye bye bye" which make him laughed so hard that Kal barked at him. He mentioned that in his youth he made a movie with Joey Fatone and you were green with envy because you used to be a N*Sync fangirl when you were little. - What was he like? - you asked - Oh, he's great! Cool guy. If I ever cross paths with him again, I'll invite him to hang out so you can meet him too. - he replied - Oh yeah, baby. That'd be a childhood dream come true. - Have you ever meet one of your idols? - he questioned curiously - Hmm... yeah, I met Slash, he's now a friend of mine. He gave me guitar lessons. - You learned to play the guitar with Slash from Guns n' Roses? - he repeated your words as a question due to the surprise revelation - No. I was already pretty good. He gave me lessons on how to improve my guitar solos. It was A-M-A-Z-I-N-G! I've learnt so much with him and improved drastically my habilities. - you explained - I've also met Duff and he is cool too. I met Nikolaj Coster-Waldau from Game of Thrones, he's one of the sweetest people I've ever met. I met my now friend Annie (Hathaway), which you must already know because we worked together in my first acting role and she is a mentor, she truly helped me a lot to become a good actress. - you paused, thinking and after a few moments continued.- I've met Robert De Niro, he played my dad in the movie that you didn't see - previously you have had a conversation in which he confessed to having seen three on the four movies that you made in your short but successful career as an actress. You advised him not to watch the movie, because you played a woman caught in sex trafficking and there were a lot of rape scenes and you thought he may be affected to see you like that, even you had panic attacks after filming that movie and never watched again after the premiere. You couldn't even see Cillian Murphy anymore, another co-star in that movie, because he was the villain and there was a much graphic scene in which his character raped yours. "Only the twisted mind of Darren Aronofsky could come with a story dark as that one," you told Henry laughing because you liked the director, he was a good man, but with a weird taste for disaster and dark psychology-.  You talked about meeting people that you admire and he mentioned Russell Crowe, Tom Cruise and Guy Ritchie, among others. As you predicted, the cookies were delicious. Your boyfriend was, definitely, the perfect man. Not only he was the sweetest, you two never fought, but he was also an amazing lover - he even made out a rule that you that to tell him if you didn't have an orgasm (or wanted more) so he could take care of that because those moments were made so both of you could have a great time and not just him. And, on top of all of that, he cooked for you amazing dishes and desserts. He was the definition of perfection. - Someday you're going to get tired of cooking for me and that'd be my doom. - you pointed out as you ate the tasteful cookies. - Not at all. I'll never get tired of cooking for the woman I love. - he assured you smiling. You chocked with the cooking you were eating and recover a few seconds later and starred at his face with an expression of full shock in yours. - What did you say? - you demanded him to repeat his words - What? I've said that I love cooking for the woman I love.- he repeated without understanding what was wrong with his words. - "The woman you love"? Do you love me? -you asked astonished - Absolutely.- he admitted with a smile on his face- I've been in love with you practically since the time I asked you to be my girlfriend, I just thought that you were going to think I was crazy and was too soon for saying the L word. - I felt the same way. I wanted you to be the first to say it. -you confessed him. - So, we are in love with eachother.- he confirmed with happiness written on his face; the kind of happiness that a child would experience on Christmas day if he/she received exactly what was expecting. You stood up from the table and run into his arms, as he embraced you for your first kiss after knowing that you were in love. Hours later, Henry was back again in the kitchen. This time he was planning to prepare dinner for him since you told him the cookies made you feel full and you didn't want to eat anything else for the day. He was preparing everything that he needed, when you showed up in the kitchen wearing nothing but translucid bran with pastel green colour and white flowers on it. The bra was delicate and made your breasts look amazing. You also wear a white thong and white stockings and stiletto heels pumps. You left Henry speechless. You got closer to him, put your arms around his neck a started to kiss him. You could feel his hands sliding through your back reaching your ass and grabbing it. That made you laughed and he joined you. You looked at his eyes and suggested him to take things to bed. You indicated that you couldn't wait anymore to properly celebrate the fact that you loved each other. He picked you up, holding you by your thighs and walked to the bedroom. He left you on the bed as he turned to close the door and took his clothes off. He got on the bed and then slowly slid your thong and then throw it away. Grabbing you by your thighs, he began to pleasure you with his mouth. He loved to stroke your clit with his tongue, grabbing it and sucking it as well. He could do that for long periods. You were used to him putting his fingers inside your underwear and make you cum over and over. He'd do that at least three or four times per week -without counting that you had sex every single night and some mornings as well. He always wanted to take you and satisfy his desires but also wanted to make you happy. He couldn't get enough of you, and the feeling was mutual. You could feel him tasting you, after several orgasms, you were dripping wet. He climbed on top of you and kissed you, grabbing your lips with his. He grabbed a condom from the nightstand and after putting it on, he put his member inside of you, making you burned inside. It felt so good. He would go from slow movements to really fast pound. He had both of his hands on the mattress and your's were on his neck. He would separate his mouth from yours from time to time only to be able to kiss your neck and breasts. He knew how much you needed the touch of his sweet lips on yours; to feel his tongue dancing inside your mouth. You put your arms on his back and dug your fingers on his back, followed by your nails scratching his back. That made him insane. He had shaved two days before that moment, but his beard started to grow again. He also left he moustache to grow. It was still on its early stages, but still made you tingle and it felt so amazing, especially when he was with his head between your legs. He made you stood up from the bed and then grabbed you by your thighs once more, as you entwined your arms around his neck and he started to thrust you. Your body was on flames. The fact that he was strong enough to fuck you while holding you amazed you. For moments, you would free one of your hands just to stroke his arm, as his muscles tense. He sat on the edge of the bed and continued to pound you, buried himself inside of you deeper and deeper each time. You pushed his back against the mattress, kissed him with burning passion and then started to ride him, placing your hands on his majestic hairy chest. Then, you enlaced your hands with his while you continue to move up and down his cock. He pulled your hands into his lips, kissing both of them, one at the time. You put your chest against his and whispered on his ear "You're mine, baby. You're mine and I'm yours", he looked into your eyes. Just as he thought he couldn't want you more, you told him everything he wanted to hear, that you were his. He remembered at that moment that if he wasn't for your ex, he'd been the only man you have been with. That thought made him feel both jealous and lucky at the same time. Another man had you before him, but he intended to be the only man you'll be with for the rest of his life. You were his. He wasn't the kind of man that would treat you as an object, as something that could belong to him, but you were his woman, he loved you and would make sure that you'll want him forever over anybody else because he could not stand the idea of losing you. You were his angel and he would love you and protect you and hopefully make you as happy as you made him. Life with you was a paradise. You woke up due to the need to drink some water. You had your head pressed against Henry's chest. You had sex until the sunrise. You felt so tired after that amazing night. You checked your phone to see the time and to your surprise, it was midday. You got up and decided to prepare lunch for the two of you. You starred at him for a moment before leaving the bedroom. Seeing him sleep so peaceful felt like a warm hug. You were so lucky. He was amazing and he loved you as much as you loved him.

[five-miles-over]

Types of People Watching the Film“Gladiator”, as told by “Gladiator” gifs

Disclaimer: As always, this is just a fun listicle, not designed to offend anyone or make anyone feel bad. Please feel free to leave comments and/or constructive criticism below. Also, I do not own any of these images or gifs. Thank you, and without any further ado, please enjoy!

(Warning: spoilers for the movie ‘Gladiator’ are included.)

1. The Masquerader

This person is watching Gladiator because their friends are either ancient history buffs or ardent lovers of this film. Either way, the Masquerader is just watching this film in order to fit in with their peers. Maybe they think the film will help them know more about Ancient Rome- which it won’t, for the most part - or it’ll give them something to contribute when their friends talk about Ridley Scott and his film-making genius.

All I can say to this person is, I hope you’re a better actor than Russell Crowe when you’re trying to have a conversation in public.

2. The Veteran

If you’re this person, you’ve probably seen Gladiator at least twice, and it probably holds a special connection for you. Maybe it reminds you of a loved one you watched the film with, or maybe it was when you had your first crush (fictional or celebrity). 

When you watch this film, you feel like you’re coming back to a familiar world with people you think you know quite well. At this point, you don’t watch Gladiator to be surprised by the special effects or action scenes. You watch Gladiator without the slightest faze and hope for a taste of nostalgia.

3. The History Snob

This person doesn’t necessarily have to have a degree in Ancient History or Classics or Mediterranean Studies, but they will be quick to point out the slightest historical error they find. Whether it’s Marcus Aurelius’s death, Emperor Commodus’s death, or even the portrayal of gladiatorial games, this person will make sure everyone around them knows what really should have been.

On a bad day, this person might go so far as to criticize the casting choice and costumes, saying that the hairstylist department should’ve bleached Commodus’s hair because historically, this emperor was blonde.

4. The Superfan

A celebrity crush is the reason you’re watching this film, be it Russell Crowe, Connie Nielsen, Joaquin Phoenix, Oliver Reed, or even Ridley Scott. Either way, Gladiator is one of the most famous films of this celebrity’s career and you’re watching it because you admire their work with all your heart.

Especially if you’re a Joaquin Phoenix fan, you get to pride yourself on being able to say you admired him before he became the Joker.

5. The Cinephile

When this person thinks of Gladiator, the first thing they think about is the film that brought back the genre of epic films. Or, maybe they remember this film as the Best Picture Winner of 2001. Or this is the film that Ridley Scott could never, ever replicate no matter how hard he tried (even with Russell Crowe).

This person, depending on how big of a snob they are, will either vocally praise or criticize the film’s production design, cinematography, or tone. Sometimes it’s amazing how much they know about the making of the film, and other times it’s annoying when all you want to do is just watch silently.

Personally, I enjoy having this person around because I enjoy learning about film production, but everyone has their own choice of company.

6. The One Who’s in Love

This person doesn’t just like their favorite character, this person legitimately believes that if their favorite character lived in real life, they would be dating them. And for this person, Gladiator is their way of connecting with their F/O outside of thinking about them in various situations.

To them, their favorite character is the “one”. They laugh with their favorite character, they sympathize with their favorite character, and certainly mourn for their death long after the film ends.

(If you’re me, that is your alibi if anyone asks why you’re crying so much when cutting onions.)

7. The Kink-ster

(Warning: reference to smut)

Honestly, this person could be watching literally any film, but if they find a character attractive or sexy, their brain comes to life immediately. Their mind is so dirty that you need an entire hazmat suit to enter, plus some holy water for afterward. This person is watching Gladiator for the fan service and has probably fantasized about doing unspeakable things to their character of choice. I’m talking swordplay, bloodplay, BDSM, spanking, bondage, exhibitionism, voyeurism, edging, lingerie, dirty talk, role-playing or daddy kinks

In all seriousness though, I actually think this person is super awesome because of their powerful imagination and confidence. (also because sometimes I am this person) So, have fun with your X-rated fantasies all you want to - no one’s judging you.

8. The Snoozer

You honestly don’t find Gladiator that great of a movie. “Why is it two-and-a-half hours long?” is probably your catchphrase and you doze off during the long but pivotal dialogues. The only reason you’re watching is because a) it was the only good thing on television or b)everyone around you is watching it. Most likely, you believe that the time for Hollywood epic films has truly passed since the mid-60s.

Hope you all enjoyed this fun little listicle! Let me know if you’ve ever known these types of people who’ve seen this iconic film.

Stay safe and I hope to bring some more content soon!!

[brooklyn-1918]

Down With the Ship

OK, I have done something along these lines before, but I personally thought it was horrible. So I re worked it and got a little carried away, as it has just over 10k words. Way longer than I normally write. Any-who... I saw @jtargaryen18​ ‘s 30 days of Chris challenge, and I wanted to hop on the train, participate in my first writing challenge.

SO! Without further ado.. 

Characters: Steve Rogers, OFC Sarah Russell, Tony Stark, Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, and a few other real and fictional characters scattered into the mix.

Pairings: Steve RogersxOFC

Words: 10,025

Summary: April 12, 1912, was the night when everything for Sarah Russell would change. But as the cold water loomed nearer, she only had one thought on her mind. Steve.

Warnings: Brief mentions of Smut, but nothing is actually written. Angsty-fluff. Character deaths, as with anything about the Titanic can be expected. 

A/N: Honestly, I had no idea where I was going with this. I tried not to have it be too similar to the 1993 movie, Titanic, but there are some things that are undoubtedly similar. I have major problems with that movie anyway. 

The bow rose high above the crowd, her black paint reflecting sunlight from the choppy waters. Resting on top of the black paint, was a layer of white, concealing the deck just below the railing. Sarah watched as two crew members scrambled up the foremast, climbing into the crows nest, tugging their White Star line caps lower over their eyes. 

She clasped her hands together, giving the bustling port a once over. Passengers of every class waited to board the massive ship, from first class, to the third class passengers in steerage. Small children clutched their mothers’ hands, while fathers and brothers, husbands, hoisted luggage over their shoulders. 

“Sarah.” She flinched as her mother called her name. She turned with a polite smile on her face, taking a small breath to steady herself.

“Yes, mother?”

“Come here, we wouldn’t want you to be anywhere near these--” Her mother wiggled her fingers, then drew her hand in close to her chest with a disgusted look on her face. She quickly waved out to the lower class passengers, like it was too much of a burden to give them any more attention than she already had. She took a breath before she continued.

“Regardless, we must board soon.” She held out the ticket for Sarah to take. With a small smile, she gripped the slip of paper, then turned back outward.

Sarah tilted her nose up, letting the sun light up her face, enjoying the feeling of land under her feet while it lasted. A commotion a few yards away startled her out of her thoughts.

She glanced over to where a trio of young men, men who appeared to be third class, were arguing with the medical attendants. Well, where two of them were trying to hold back the third. 

The one who was arguing, a tall man with dirty blonde hair and a thin shirt, finally gave up with a throw up of his hands. He shrugged the hands of his two traveling companions off his shoulders and moved along the line. He held his hand over the handle of his bag, slung around his shoulder, and glared intently at the floor. 

Sarah watched him curiously, and nearly lept out of her skin when he looked up and made eye contact with her. He narrowed his eyes, the color of the sky, daring her to say something, do something. She sucked in her bottom lip to chew briefly, then looked away quickly. The passenger smirked as he continued on with the line. 

“Sarah!” She jumped as she turned back around, this time to her brother’s call. He faced her, placing both hands on her shoulders and squeezing tightly. His brow was knitted together with a disdainful expression resting on his face. 

“Mother said to stay close.” Sarah looked at her brother with a frown, sighing with relief as their gate was called to board. She let out a huff of air as she rounded to walk to the entrance. 

_____

Walking along the halls of B deck, it felt cold, unwelcoming. Yes, the lush red carpet and beautiful white walls were warm to anyone else’s standards, but not to Sarah. She was ushered into her suite quickly, her brother trying to defend her from the world. It was annoying, really. 

The room was… Nice. 

Oak paneling was accented with gold, leafs carved into the mantle looked strangely realistic. Rich maroon carpet lightened the floor, pussing up to the walls. A velvet sofa sat angled in the corner, an end table next to it. 

Sarah trailed her fingers over the marble of the mantle as her mother and brother bustled around the room, in and out of the bedchambers and the washroom. She opened the door after a knock startled her. One of the stewards stood in the doorway, loaded down with boxes and luggage. Sarah laughed and pulled two off the top of his pile, to which he sighed his thanks. 

“Sarah, what on earth are you doing?” Her mother sounded scandalized as she rushed over, trying to knock the luggage out of her daughter’s hands. 

“Do you want to end up a maid?” Sarah placed the luggage on the sofa and threw an apologetic look at the family server walking behind her, a scowl on her face. Sarah took a breath and looked back to her mother. 

“No. But if I hadn't--” “No, not another word out of you.” Her brother rounded the sofa to clamp a hand on her upper arm. Sarah frowned and nodded, looking away from her mother and overprotective brother. 

_____

Dinner was a bore. They had the pleasure of dining in the company of Mr. Stark, Mr. Andrews, and Captain Smith. Mr. Stark was alright, full of interesting stories and recounts of the adventures he had in Europe, explaining new ideas he had in mind. Mr. Andrews and Captain Smith were only interested in the ship. Explaining how she worked, what it was like building her, gloating over her. 

Sarah tried not to slouch over in boredom, refrain from pushing her food around her plate with one of her many forks. Instead, she placed her utensils back and ate nothing, concentrating on the electric voice of Tony Stark. 

“Are you alright, my dear?” Sarah nodded politely at Tony’s question, folding her hands neatly in her lap. 

“Yes, thank you. Only a little light headed.” Tony frowned, and placed a gentile hand over her own. 

“Perhaps you should excuse yourself and lie down?” He dropped his voice down into a whisper, his brown eyes connecting with her pale blue ones. In all honesty, Sarah knew why she was light headed. It was her god awful corset that had been cinched one too many times. 

“Perhaps.” She smiled and pushed her seat back, turning to speak to her mother and brother.

“If you will excuse me, I am feeling suddenly ill. Gentlemen, it has been a pleasure dining with you.” She stood and smiled at the three guests, mouthing Tony a small thanks. Before she could get any retaliation out of her family, she pushed her chair in and left the first class dining area. 

On her way out, she momentarily stopped where she would be seen by no one. She slipped her fingers between her dress and popped her corset open a little, reveling in the flood of fresh air into her lungs. She fixed her dress and carried on to the deck.

_____

Sarah walked around the deck, unwilling to return to her stuffy room. She wanted to explore it all, find hiding places if ever she needed. Eventually, her wander brought her to the very back of the ship, the stern high above the black water. She ran her fingers lightly over the rail, pressing her front firmly to the cold metal bars.

She leaned forward, not enough that she was in any real danger, but just enough to see the Atlantic water where it churned by the propellers. She laughed lightly, pushing up to her toes.

“Careful, don’t want to fall over the edge, do you?” Sarah dropped back to her feet and whipped around, swallowing as she looked up into his eyes. The man had an oily sneer, his eyes were bloodshot and his breath smelled foully of alcohol. The third class passenger was too close for comfort, Sarah let her eyes widen and pressed back further into the railing.

“Please back up, sir.” She tried to keep her voice even, her nose held high. The black haired man grinned wickedly, taking another step closer. He reached one finger up to caress her jaw, Sarah shivered at the tough, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. 

“Why should I do that?” Sarah let her eyes go wider still, and she tried to duck under his arm, shove past him, do anything to try to get away. 

“Stop!” She tried to sound commanding, but her voice came out as barely more than a quivering cry. She placed her hand on the man’s shoulder, trying to push him away, but he locked his fingers around her wrist.

She yelped as he brought his head down and started kissing her throat, tears springing to her eyes. The man’s head snapped up and he let go, Sarah struggling for breath, confused as to what was happening.

“She said to stop. Maybe you should listen.” A rumbling voice came from behind the man in front of her. Only then did Sarah notice the fingers clamped around her attacker's shoulder. Clamped so tight that his knuckles were turning white, causing the black haired man to buckle under the pressure. 

The man was pulled away, stumbling until he hit the floor, letting out a grunt. Her savior, a tall blonde, had his back facing her with his shoulders squared to try to ward off the man on the floor. It worked. He scrambled up and away from the two of them, headed for the stairwell. 

Her savior finally turned to her, his entire physique softening. Sarah instantly recognized him as the same man that she had seen on the pier earlier that day.

“Are you OK? Did he hurt you?” The man sounded soft, and sincere, so unlike what she had seen earlier on. She managed to nod, placing one hand on her chest to steady her breathing. 

He smiled reassuringly, pointing to one of the benches, hovering his hand near her arm, asking without speaking if she would let him lead her to sit. 

She gave him another small nod, his hand resting lightly on the back of her arm, guiding her to sit down. She sat and crossed her ankles, stiff backed. The stranger sat down next to her, leaning back and pressing himself more to the corner of the bench, casting worried looks to her. 

“Thank you, Sir.” She pushed herself to look at him, an unsure smile forming on her lips. He chuckled softly and sat up, elbows propped on his knees.

“Steve. Steve Rogers.” He held out his hand, and she took it gently. He had strong, warm hands, rough from years of physical work that showed in the muscles in his forearms, and Sarah could only imagine, flowing up under his shirt to his chest. 

“Sarah Russel.”

_____

The next night, she wandered the deck after dinner. She had her gaze fixed over the railing, watching the waves roll against the hull of Titanic, not to where she was going. She yelped as her foot slipped out from under her, the stairs missed. She shut her eyes, waiting to hit the hard deck, but instead fell into something soft and warm. 

She opened her eyes and looked up to the chuckleing Steve Rogers. She pulled herself out of his arms and straightened her dress, then fixed her hair.

“Mr. Rogers, what a pleasant surprise to see you here.” Steve chuckled harder, the hand rolled cigarette clamped between his teeth nearly falling to the deck. 

“I told you, call me Steve. Please.” She nodded and her face softened, a smile crawling up. She leaned her back against the railing as Steve crossed his arms over it, looking out to the cold black ocean. 

He dug in his pocket for a few seconds, then extracted a small tin case to which he popped open and offered to her. She hesitantly took one of the cigarettes, then the matchbook he offered her. 

Although she had never had a hand rolled cigarette before, she found it strangely more appealing than the ones that had been factory rolled. They remained in silence for some time, much like the night before. Steve extracted a little silver pocket watch, clicking it open, the small tic tic tic resonating through the air before he snapped it closed. 

“Do you first class folk go to parties?” Steve angled his head to her, his eyebrows raised in question. Sarah opened her mouth to speak, then closed it and stood up straight.

“How do you mean?” She questioned back. She pulled the smoking paper stick away from her lips, blowing the cloud away from them. Steve turned to face her, one arm still on the rail. 

“You know, music, dancing, drinks?” “Ah, right. Horrible slow dancing to equally horrible music. Disgusting glasses of champagne. Food too small for even a mouse.” Steve laughed louder, his joyous sound making her feel happy inside. He shook his head with a wide grin, waving her off. 

“No, no-- I mean a real party. With loud music, good dancing, and good drinks.” Sarah quirked her brow, then shook her head at him. He had to have a point? Didn’t he? He held out his hand, palm to the dark sky, moving his fingers in a gesture to ask if she would take his hand. 

“Come with me then. I will show you a better time.” Steve promised, patiently waiting with his pal still open. She slowly reached out, hovering over his palm. With a confident intake of breath, she placed her hand down, Steve’s fingers almost automatically curling over the back of her hand. 

He smiled and began walking backwards, pulling her along with him. He only looked back long enough to find and place his foot on the first step down to the lower decks. His cigarette still hung from his lips, sending a wreath of grey smoke curling around his head. 

She giggled lightly as he descended the stairwell backwards, deeper and deeper into the massive ship. 

_____

Once they reached E deck, she could hear the thumping music wafting down the halls. They were halls that looked barely different than her own. Red floors, white walls, dull electric lighting. The only difference was, it was all made of iron, not soft carpeting and plaster and wood. She liked this so much better. 

Steve guided her into the third class dining area, where most of the tables had been pushed to the side, making way to a large space where 50 people danced to the loud, joyful music. Smoke from cigarettes had accumulated in the rafters, making its way to the one popped open window. The entire room smelled like spilled beer, smoke, and warm bodies.

She laughed as she looked around, her mouth broken into a huge grin. Steve stopped them just inside the doorway, dropping her hand so he could grab a couple drinks. A he handed one to her, he spoke, loud so he could be heard  over the music. “I’m going to take it that you are enjoying this?” He handed one of the drinks, as he took a sip of his own, the froth on top bumping against his lip. She accepted the amber liquid with a nod, taking a test drink. She giggled and took another drink, the cool beer tasting so good as it rushed over her tongue and down her throat. 

Steve shook his head and led her over to a table populated by three others. They gave her odd looks as they sat, her dress standing out in the crowd. She recognized two of them as the people that Steve had been traveling with, the other she had no idea. 

“Sarah, this is Bucky and Sam,” He pointed to the two he had been traveling with.

“And this is Clint.” He motioned to the last man at the table. She reached to shake each of their hands, each feeling much like Steve’s. 

“It's very nice to meet you all. I’m Sarah.” Bucky raised his eyebrows and turned to Steve.

“Sarah? As in the gal you rescued on the deck?” Steve nodded and the table erupted into laughter and shouts, babbling on and trading stories. Sarah didn’t once feel unincluded. 

After a little while, Sarah noticed Bucky staring at someone. She followed his gaze to where a red headed woman was dancing with two small children, a girl with reddish orange locks, and a boy with silvery white locks. 

“Are they yours?” Sarah raised her voice over teh roar of the music and people. The table looked to where the two of them were watching the woman. Bucky flushed a scarlet color, Clint effectively lost his arm wrestle with Sam, and Steve nearly choked on his beer as he snickered. 

“You’re funny, but no. That's Natallia Romanova, Russian immigrant. She rescued the two kids on her way to America.” Sarah nodded, then smiled and lightly socked him on the arm. 

“Go ask her to dance.” Bucky looked at her with a mortified expression, and the table erupted back into laughter. Bucky turned to glare at all of them, then back to Sarah who shrugged at him. He squared his shoulders and stood.

“You know what? I will ask her to dance. And pray she doesn't kill me.” He set a determined expression on his face. Sarah laughed as Steve spoke up behind her.

“You laugh, but he isn’t kidding.” Sarah looked back to where he was walking up to her, shock and concern riddled her face. She held her breath as she watched Bucky speak, letting it out as the red headed woman smiled and accepted his hand. 

“He’s right. Just last night I saw her flip someone over her shoulder and put him in a headlock when he touched her without her permission.” Sam took a sip of his drink, brow raised over the rim. Sarah laughed nervously as she turned away from the now dancing Bucky and Natalia. 

“Speaking of dancing, care for a dance?” She looked to Steve, a hopeful look on his face, outstretched hand. She slipped her own in without hesitation, letting him lead her to the dance floor. 

_____

Sarah was laughing so hard, she could barely breathe. Steve held her close as they moved around the dance floor, trying to avoid bumping into anyone else. She was pressed into his chest as they swung around to move to the left.

Steve had a permanent cheeky grin as he gave his partner a twirl, her skirts flowing out to the side as she spun. Their feet moved wildly as they moved right, left, then back again only to repeat it but slightly more to the left. 

When the song stopped, they swung back into their seats. Sarah took a few small sips of her drink, then placed it down. Steve tilted his head back a bit as he chugged his beer down, when he nearly slammed the glass back down with triumph, it had only about an inch left in the bottom of the glass. 

“What? You didn’t think the Irish could drink?” He laughed, and Sarah took it as a challange. She picked up her own glass, and with a small breath through her nose, raised it to her lips and drank, long and hard until she had about an inch and a half left. She slammed it down with a mocking laugh, grinning at Steve’s shocked expression.

“And I can’t?”

Sam laughed and lightly clapped her on the shoulder as she swept sweat slicked hair out of her face. 

_____

The music was dieing down, people were returning to their bunks, glasses were being put away and tables were being shoved back into place. Sarah said her goodbyes to her newfound friends, arguably better friends after just one night than any friends she had in the past. 

She walked up to B deck with her arm twisted through Steve’s, head resting on his shoulder. The cold night air was so refreshing after the stuffy room below deck, and it was hard to believe that only a few hours ago, she had been standing so awkwardly next to Steve, just a few feet away. 

“I’m going to be in so much trouble with my mother.” She groaned, but snapped her head up to look at Steve, a mischievous grin on her face.

“It was worth it though.” He chuckled as they walked on in silence. Steve stopped when they reached the stairs up to the first class deck, Sarah already one step up.

“You’re not coming?” She asked, a small frown on her face. He sighed, and shook his head, untwisting his arm from her, letting his hand slip down so their fingers intertwined. 

“I can’t. I’m only a steerage passenger, remember?” He added the last bit with a dramatic flare, and Sarah chuckled softly. She smiled in contemplation.

“OK.” She whispered softly. She reached out with her free hand, laying it gently on his cheek, her thumb brushing away a bit of imaginary dirt. She leaned forward and placed a kiss to his other cheek, his light stubble scratching her lips softly. 

As she drew back, she felt her belly drop at his shocked expression, anxiety taking root and flushing through her body, making her heart pound. He shook his head quickly and smiled, his eyes bright and reflecting the stars above.

He reached up to her shoulder, bringing her back down to him, pressing his lips to her own, soft and sweet. He could feel her smile into the kiss, gently sucking at his bottom lip as she pulled away. 

“Tomorrow, eight o’clock. Meet me at the very front of the ship.” She smiled sweetly at his proposition, nodding and backing up the stairs. 

“Goodnight, Steve.” 

“Goodnight dalrin’.” 

_____

Sarah tried to sneak into the suite, but failed miserably. The second she opened the door, her mother and brother were on her like a starving dog to a scrap of meat. Gripping her arm as if she would run away again.

“Where have you been?!” Her mother tried so hard to keep her voice to a respectable level. Her brother merely scowled at her. He narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, taking in a subtle whiff.

“Cigarette smoke, and alcohol. I can smell the sweat on you.” He hissed at her, his grip tightening. With a newfound stroke of courage, she tugged her arm out of his and her mother’s grip. She took a step back towards her door. With her nose in the air, she spoke.

“Where I have been is none of your buisness. You are no longer able to dictate my life. Goodnight.” And with that, she opened the door, slipping inside and bolting it. She walked to the bed, sitting with a hand over her mouth, containing the laughter that was bubbling up. 

Outside in the foyer, her family stood shocked, looking at the door where she had dissapeared. 

_____

The morning arrived soon enough, Sarah rising and foregoing breakfast to draw herself a bath. She wanted to stay in her room the entire day, just long enough until she had to leave to meet Steve. But she decided against it when her stomach grumbled from hunger. 

So she rose, got dressed in something simple, something she knew her mother would despise, and left to walk to lunch. As she exited her suite, she collided with someone walking in the same direction she was going. She blinked and apologized quickly, smiling as she recognized who she had bumped into.

“Mr. Stark, headed to lunch?” He smiled and bounced on the balls of his feet.

“I am. Care to join me?” He held out his arm for her to take. She wrapped her own around and placed it over his, smiling as she pulled the door the rest of the way closed. 

They sat at a table together, Tony having the ability to tell that she was not all that thrilled about sitting with her family. They chatted for a while, Tony recounting more adventures and inventions. But as she didn’t say much aside from the occasional comment or question, he sat back in his chair with a small smile.

“Someone has their mind preoccupied elsewhere.” He observed. 

“Hmm, yes. Wait-- oh I’m sorry.” She grinned sheepishly, twisting her fingers in her lap as Tony chuckled. He shook his head and sat up again, narrowing his eyes with a knowing smile.

“I know that look. It’s not me you are looking like that for, and your family certainly couldn’t make you look like that. So, who is it?” She could feel the color rising in her cheeks, and she bit her bottom lip. “You must not tell.” She begged, knitting her brow in concern. Tony shook his head and laughed quietly.

“Oh, I wouldn’t. I have been exactly where you are, my dear.” 

“His name is Steve. He’s-- not first class.” Tony grinned at her, leaning back once more. He nodded, and tapped his finger twice on the table.

“That third class boy? Big, blonde?” Tony asked, puffing his chest up and swinging his arms wider, a smile on his face as he imitated Steve. Sarah forgot all upper class manners as she slumped back in her chair, fingers dangling over the arm rests, mouth agape. Tony laughed harder, drawing the attention of a few other passengers. 

“How did you--? What?” He grinned wider.

“I do enjoy midnight strolls.” He said in a way of an explanation. Sarah’s mind automatically went to the previous night. Mr. Stark must have been walking along the deck and spotted her and Steve at the stairs. 

“Oh.” Was all Sarah could manage as she fixed her posture. Tony patted her hand from across the table, sitting back again. She laughed suddenly, quietly, her features lighting up.

“Was it only you who saw?”

_____

Sarah was back in her room, splashing some water on her face, and taking off some of her excess jewelry. She put on her simplest dress, hoping to not stand out. She exerted her room at 7:40, crossing to the door to exit the suite. 

“Sarah. Where do you think you’re going?” She turned to face her brother, a defiant look on her face. Her mother exited her bedroom, standing beside her oldest child, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“I will once again give you this answer… It is none of your business. Good evening to you.” She opened the door, but before she could exit, her brother gripped her wrist. 

“You will not leave. I forbid it.” She scoffed as she faced him down. 

“I will leave. You have no control over me, you are not father. I choose my own life, and I choose to live it away from you.” She said cooly, yanking her arm out of his grip. She gave him a murderous glare, whipping around and leaving, smacking him in the face with her hair as she did so. 

As she left her family in a perpetual state of confusion, she made her way to the bow of the ship. She smiled as she approached Steve, wrapping her arms around his middle. He bent down to capture her mouth in a kiss, bringing his hands to cup both sides of her jaw.

Once they broke apart, she placed her chin on his chest and looked up. 

“Can I go with you when we get to New York? I can’t take my life anymore.” Tears welled up in her eyes, and her fingers twisted into the back of his shirt. Steve moved his hands down to rub up and down her arms, face twisted into confusion.

“Just up and leave?” Steve asked, eyebrows pulled together. Sarah concentrated on the blue of his eyes, trying to have her own speak something words could not. Steve’s face softened, his heart pounding in his chest. 

He knew that look. It was the same one he had given Bucky when he had left New York to go to Europe. It was the same one that both Bucky and Sam had given him when they thought it was time to go home. It was the look of someone who could truly, absolutely, no longer take the life they were living. If they stayed, they would combust. 

Steve sucked in a breath, God only knew what that look did to him. He leaned his head down to rest his forehead against hers. 

“Sure, darlin’. But I can’t give you what you deserve.” Their noses pressed together as Sarah tilted her head up to encase his lips with her own. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she huffed a laugh and grinned. 

“You honestly think I like living like this?” Steve chuckled with his own wide smile. His blue eyes sparkled in the orange light of the setting sun. 

“Last night was the most fun I have ever had. Your friends have become better friends to me in one night than anyone else I have ever known. Sure, maybe first class looks a little nicer, but trust me, it’s a lot worse.” Steve smiled at her analysis, wrapping his arms around her tighter.

“Then we can get to New York, and we can get you away from the first class life.”

“Good.”

“OK then, come with me, I have to show you something.”

_____

Steve led her through hallways, down lower and lower, dodging crew members, ducking around other passengers. He eventually came to a door that he pushed open to reveal a large storage area, full of boxes, and trunks, cars and other assorted pieces of furniture. The whole area was dimly lit, only a few electric bulbs lining the walls. 

Steve pulled her to a lavish couch, red velvet over polished oak. Steve gave one gentle tug and they both collapsed to the soft surface with a laugh. 

“How did you find this?” Sarah asked with a large grin, resting her head on his shoulder. Steve slung his arm around her, tugging her close to his side, letting her take in his heat. 

“A magician never reveals his secrets.” Steve chuckled, an air of mock superiority to his voice. Sarah squawked, flicking his side as she playfully frowned. Steve snorted out a laugh, toothy grin on his face.

“I did a lot of exploring when I got on the ship. And I may have followed one of the crew.” 

“You sneaky cat.” She reached out a finger to poke his nose playfully, to which he captured in his free hand and pressed to his lips. He then tilted his head down to capture her lips, then shifted to use his free hand to pull her closer. 

Sarah briefly fought with her constricting dress, just enough to get her leg up and over, so that she was straddling him. He reached his hands around to rest on her lower back, fingers playing at one of the buttons.

“May I?” He asked, a flirty grin on his face. She retaliated by placing her own hands on his stomach, thumbs tapping against his belt buckle. 

“Only if I can as well.” Steve grinned and popped the buttons, leading up her back. Sarah quickly undid his belt buckle, sliding it out one loop at a time. Steve slid the dress off her shoulders as she hooked her fingers under his shirt, pulling it up.

“Well, this isn’t fair.” She laughed. Steve made a shocked face at her corset, and she remarked on his ability to only wear a shirt. 

“How do you breathe in this thing?” He tried to wiggle a finger under it, but was unable to make it past the tight fabric. Sarah cuckold.

“Oh, it’s funny that you think I can breath.” She quickly showed him how to undo the strings as she ran her fingers against his chest, absolutely rippling with muscles. They both had smiles on their faces, heating the air around them with their growing passion. 

_____

Tony Stark watched as Sarah and her partner, Steve, she had called him, disappeared below deck. He leaned against the railing, playing with his watch, the red and gold metal glinting in the dying sunlight. 

He chuckled, looking straight out at the smooth water. He was happy for them. Truely. He turned to watch as two crew members went to the crows nest, relieving the two members already on duty. “Mr.Stark.” The call of his name dragged the attention away from the crew, and he gave his watch face a slight twist, showing him the time, instead of the temperature he had previously been looking at. 

“Ah, Mr.Russell, what can I do for you?” Sarah’s brother came up to him, standing directly in front of him, hands shoved in his pockets and a fowl look on his face. Tony leaned his backside against the wood of the railing, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Where is my sister?” His tone was accusatory, and Tony put one eyebrow up.

“No idea.” He bluffed.

“I saw you eating with her at lunch.” Tony chuckled again.

“And? How should I know where she is now?” 

“Let me make this clear, I saw you, just the two of you. At lunch.” Now it was really hard for Tony to resist laughing. So he did. His laugh was loud, boisterous. It drew the attention of a few other passerbys. 

“I have a wife back in the states, Mr.Russell. Pepper. You should meet her sometime. Sarah and I bumped into each other in the hall, that's all.” Tony stood up straight, coming eye to eye with the younger man. He faltered, and backed off, hands pulled from his pockets.

“My apologies.” He muttered. Tony started walking past him, patting him on the shoulder as he made his way to his suite. 

_____

Sarah slumped against the wall, breathless and laughing, hair going in every direction, clutching her dress around her shoulders, unable to button it back up. Steve crouched by the intersection, hiding from the crew members as he tucked his shirt back in. His grin was blinding, 

They turned to race down the hall, Steve fumbling with Sarah’s buttons with each bouncing footstep. They swung onto the nearest staircase, climbing higher and higher. They stopped at the very top of one of the stairwells, right behind a door that would lead to the dark deck. 

Sarah wrapped her fingers in his thin shirt, pushing him against the wall as she kissed him silly. She planted her lips over every square inch of his face, while he pulled her as close as possible, hands rubbing up and down her back. 

They both knew it was late, but neither of them were tired. They were just a couple with not a care in the world. They didn’t care what was going on on around them. Nothing but smooth sailing.

Until it wasn’t.

The entire ship groaned, it shuddered, the floorboards vibrating and the metal emitting a low hum. The pair broke apart, Steve gripping onto her arm as she nearly toppled down the stairs. Frowns had stitched themselves onto their faces, concern etching lines on their foreheads. 

Steve pushed the door open, and they both stepped outside. Sarah looked to the deck.

Ice chunks littered the floor, blue and silver and white in the moonlight. Some people, second and third class, were kicking around the ice, laughing as if they hadn’t just experienced that feeling.

Next, Sarah looked to where Steve was looking. She took in a sharp gasp as she watched the massive iceberg make its way to the stern of the ship. The pair walked up to the rail, leaning over to watch the massive tower of ice float away. 

“Mr.Andrews said this ship was unsinkable, right?” Sarah asked, dread settling into her stomach.

“Right.” Steve had let all traces of joy leave his shoulders, his eyes. His voice was low, and serious. 

“So what do we have to worry about?” She could hear the wobble in her own voice. She took a breath to steady herself, and turned to find something else other than the ice. 

Her gaze landed first on the two people in the crows nest. They were standing still, hands gripping the edge of their platform’s railing. Their faces were pale against their dark White Star uniforms. 

Sarah was quick to look at something else, dread settling deeper into her bones. She found a few bridge members running around. She spotted Mr.Andrews, charts tucked under his arms, trotting up to a man with snow white hair, trotting up to the captain, 

This was not good. And it was about to get worse. 

_____

Steve and Sarah stood at the railing, watching the iceberg float away for quite some time. Maybe half an hour they stood there. The engines had stopped, and the only noise came from the tiny waves lapping against the hull, and the murmur of voices on the deck. 

“Sarah!” She jumped at the sound of her brother’s voice. She turned around to see her mother and brother walking up to her, matching angry looks, looks that could kill. Steve looked over his shoulder, then to Sarah, who desperately tried to fix her hair. 

“Where have you been?” Her brother flailed his arms into the air, coming to stand right in front of her. Meanwhile, her mother busied herself with making sure all of the other passengers went away. Steve merely moved back to the door where they had come up earlier. Her mother seemed satisfied.

“You have been gone for hours!” Her brother nearly shouted, then ran his hands over his face and up through his hair. She side eyed her mother, who was standing rim rod straight, fury in her eyes. She chanced a glance at Steve, who was pulling out a cigarette to clamp between his teeth. 

“Like I said before, it’s none of your business, now get that through your thick skull.” She laughed at him, standing straight. Her brother was shocked for the briefest of moments, then his shock turned to white hot fury. 

He lashed out, gripping one of her wrists and then using his other hand to strike her across the cheek. Her whole field of vision went white, then faded back with a few dark spots before she could see properly again. She whimpered and bumped back to the rail. 

A hand clamped on her brother’s shoulder, fingers digging into his skin. 

“I wouldn’t think about doing that again.” Steve growled. Her brother let go of her wrists, turning to face his challenger. All kindness had gone from Steve’s eyes, his jaw was clenched tight, the muscle giving a little twitch. 

“I’m her brother.” 

“I don’t care who you are. Don’t touch her again.” Sarah watched the fear flicker through her brother’s eyes, shrinking down to a smaller size against Steve’s enormity. Steve’s face softened as he looked to her, giving her a small smile. Steve let go of his shoulder and took a step back, hands going into his pockets. 

Sarah’s mother looked from both his to her daughter and back, the gears in her head almost audible as she was struck with realization. 

“Oh.” Was all she said. Her face fell to a disgusted look. Her brother caught on a moment later. He had a bit more to say.

“You, you filthy animal!” He proceeded to advance towards Steve, giving him a hard poke in the shoulder. His anger radiated off of him, and he shoved both Steve’s broad shoulders. With a sigh, Steve stripped his jacket off and tossed it to the deck, handing the unlit cigarette to Sarah, who put it between her own teeth. Steve knew where this was going, Sarah knew where it was going, so did her mother and brother. 

Sarah dug through Steve’s coat to find the matches, watching the incoming brawl with interest, ignoring the protests from her mother. 

“Did you think it was OK to even think about someone of her status? Is that it?” Her brother asked, disbelief in his tone. He put his fists up in a boxers stance, and Steve rolled out the kinks in his shoulders, choosing to stay silent. 

“You belong with the rats. You belong in the mud, just like everyone else from steerage.” He spat out the words. Steve rolled his eyes and clenched his fists. 

“No one did ever teach you how to fight? Did they?” Steve flashed a cocky grin as he easily dodged the first swing. He dodged two more, one aimed at his gut, the other to his jaw, before he looked to Sarah. He was asking silent permission.

“Go ahead. Teach him a lesson.” She shrugged, puffing smoke into her mother’s face with a sly grin. Steve nodded.

With the next swing, Steve caught his fist, swinging him around so he went crashing to the deck. Steve pressed his knee down so he was pinned, and kept his arm raised in the air. Her brother let out a whimper, and Steve let him up. 

“That’s dirty.” He tried to defend himself, putting his fists back up.

“No one ever said we were boxing.” Steve pushed back, putting his own fists up. It was laughable how much bigger than her brother Steve was. Another jab from her brother was blocked by Steve’s arms, and instead of jabbing with his fists, Steve brought his knee up and into his opponent’s gut. 

Her brother doubled over, coughing his guts up. He regained his composure, and started blindly swinging at the blond, in a rage. Steve managed to either block or avoid most of them, but he still was hit twice. Once to the stomach, and once to the shoulder. Steve shoved his opponent sideways, knocking his elbow into his nose. 

Her brother pulled back, hands on his nose, trying as he might to stop the flow of blood streaming out. Her mother yelped and went to her son. Sarah gripped Steve’s hand, interlacing their fingers. 

“Goodbye, mother.” And she ran, taking Steve along with her. 

_____

People were emerging onto the deck all around them, life belts in hand with confused looks on their faces. Some were telling their servers to go back to their rooms and turn on the heat, others were standing around and drinking. Crew members were loading some onto the lifeboats, shouting for only women and children. 

“OK, time for you to get on a boat.” Steve said as he pulled her to one. She dug her heels into the deck, placing one hand over his wrist.

“No. I’m not leaving yet. I’m not leaving you.” 

“This isn’t an argument. Get on the boat.”

Sarah set her face to a stubborn scowl, twisting her arm so her hand popped out of Steve’s. He shook his head in disbelief, and walked forward, placing his hands over her shoulders. 

“Sarah, I may be poor, but I am smart. I can do math. There aren't enough boats.” Steve gave her shoulders a squeeze, trying to mask his panic, but he feared his racing heart would give him away. Sarah reached her hands up to rest on his jaw, smoothing her thumbs over his cheekbones. 

“Exactly my point. I’m not leaving until we can both get into a boat.” He smiled, almost shyly. Then he nodded, pulling her into a tight hug. 

White light erupted above them, followed shortly by a loud bang. They both looked up in time to see another rocket being fired off, illuminating the world around them in a brilliant light. Things were getting serious. But no one seemed to get that. 

That was the problem with boarding an unsinkable ship. People tend to believe what they hear, and hearing the ship that you were on was unsinkable, people tended to believe that. But it doesn't matter if the ship has a reinforced hull, or watertight doors. It doesn't matter if it has some of the best technology of the era. If it’s made of iron, it can sink. 

_____

Sarah pulled Steve along the corridors of B deck, passing through the residential area, then to the restaurant and lounge areas. Finally they made their way to the grand staircase. The entire stairwell was full of people. Arrogant people, who even with the floor slanting under them, were directing crew members to go get them more drinks. 

She frantically looked around, searching for the one person from her own class who showed her kindness. Steve was getting odd looks thrown his way, but paid them no mind as he looked up and around, at the ornate glass roof and polished oak and gold fixtures. 

Finally, Sarah spotted who she was looking for, and darted forward, her partner in tow. 

“Mr.Stark!” She was able to grab the millionaire’s attention through the haggle of people she was forcing her way through unapologetically. The dark haired man trotted up to meet her, moving away from the other man he was talking to. 

“Sarah, where is your life belt?” He placed a hand on her shoulder. His hair was a wild mess, his suit looked like it was thrown on on his way out the door, buttons misaligned. His face was pale, and he was trying hard to keep his breathing under control. 

“I don’t have one. I haven’t been to my room at all.” 

“I noticed.” He nodded to Steve, still clutching Sarah’s hand, but standing behind her. Tony turned to grab a spare life belt that was hanging over the bannister of the staircase, handing it to her. 

“No, you need one too. We can find our own.” Sarah tried to push the white floaty back, but Steve grabbed her arm from behind.

“Sarah, put it on.” Steve commanded softly, holding her hand closed over the life belt. His hand rested on the small of her back, giving him leverage to push her arm towards herself. 

“Thank you, Mr.Stark.” Steve addressed the inventor, nodding his head sincerely. 

“If we make it off this death trap, you can call me Tony.” Steve shook his outstretched hand with a small smile.

“Steve Rogers.” Tony returned his polite nod, and they let go of each other's hands. Steve focused on helping Sarah into her vest, tying the cords tightly. Once she was all settled in, they said goodbye to Tony so they could make their way back to deck.

“Be safe, Tony.” Sarah gave him a quick hug, then let him go so they could both leave.

_____

One hour, and 22 minutes after the Titanic hit the iceberg:

The deck was turning into pandemonium. The ship was tilting, the bow almost completely underwater, the stern rising up into the air. 

“Time to go.” Steve said, leading her up the deck and closing into the back of the ship. They passed empty lifeboat hook, after empty lifeboat hook. 

“Steve, there is nowhere to go!” Sarah shouted over the noise rising up from the deck. Another white rocket burst overhead as Steve looked at her. It illuminated the fear on her face, her eyes sparkling with tears. 

Steve faltered momentarily, then shook his head to pop up to look over the crowd running around the deck. He pointed, then led her away.

“I see one up there.” He began pulling her away, just as a door burst open and a group of third class passengers came racing onto the deck, knocking Sarah and Steve apart. Steve looked around frantically as the crowd dissipated, calling out her name. He looked back to the door, and sucked in a breath. 

Sarah had slumped against the wall, eyes closed and knocked out. She must have been thrown into the wall as the group had passed. Steve knelt beside her, quickly scooping her up bridal style. 

Pushing his way further to the back of the ship, he stopped in front of the lifeboat.

“Do you have room for one more?” He asked, nodding down to the unconscious Sarah in his arms. The crew member looked a little hesitant, taking a quick glance to the nearly full boat. He nodded and flicked his fingers forward.

Steve gently loaded her into the boat, two other women helping to keep her from tipping over.

“Thank you.” Steve said to them, and they nodded. Steve backed away from the boat so more people could get in, catching a sympathetic look from one of the ladies. 

_____

One hour, and 47 minutes after the Titanic hit the iceberg:

Sarah woke up just as the Titanic started to lose power, the lights flickering wildly before they shut off, plunging the entire area into darkness, the only light was that from the moon. The ship had most of its stern suspended in the air, the propellers standing still. 

She looked around, unsure of how she had gotten in a boat, but she was certain that Steve wasn’t with her. A hand rested on her shoulder, causing her to jump. She turned to face a woman, who introduced herself as Molly Brown. 

“Where is Steve?” She asked in a panic. The woman, Molly, placed a gloved hand on her shoulder.

“Big, blond? Looked like he was third class?” Sarah nodded, tears welling in her eyes. 

“He dropped you in her and then made sure a few others got in. Then he left.” Another woman sitting next to her spoke up. Sarah turned back to the ship, hand covering her mouth. She wanted to jump out of the boat and swim back. She would never make it. 

_____

One hour, and 52 minutes after the Titanic hit the iceberg:

Steve pushed his way along the deck, all the boats were gone, the ship was almost vertical. Still, hundreds of people remained on the ship or in the water around it. By the end of the night, all but seven of them would be dead. 

Steve gripped the rail by the Union Jack flag, at the furthest point he could go. His feet were slipping out from under him, the ship groaning under the stress of holding itself up. Steve wove his arms and legs around the bars, hoping wherever Sarah, and Sam, and Bucky, wherever everyone on this ship that he cared about, he hoped that they were safe. But for the time being, he was alone. 

An unearthly scream ripped through the air. It sounded like a thousand people all at once, but higher pitched and with more of a groaning undertone. Sparks flew and metal twisted, wood splintered and glass shattered. 

Steve looked down just long enough to see the ship break in half, then shut his eyes tight as the stern came crashing down into the water again. Huge waves spread out, shoving the people that were in the water. Steve slipped from the rail, crashing down into the deck.

He scrambled back to the rail, helping up another man who had fallen. He climbed up and over, gripping the flagpole as the ship was beginning to pull itself back down again, the deck slanting rapidly.

People slid down the deck, screaming like it was some sort of deadly slide. Which it was. A slide that led to the dark waters and broken metal. 

Steve pulled himself to stand straight up as the stern went completely vertical. He looked around, his mind blocking out all the noise as the ship bobbed there. He found the lifeboats, some barely half full. There was no way to tell which one Sarah was on, but he tried to pick her out anyway. 

He would survive this. He had to. He had to make it back to her. 

The ship began to progress towards the water, the black sheet bubbling up around the sinking metal. He took a few steadying breaths. Twenty feet, ten, five, he sucked in as much air as his lungs would hold as he was enveloped in the water.

He kicked his legs furiously, following the air bubbles to the surface, all the while being dragged down by the current of the sinking hull. His head broke above the water, and he desperately gulped in air. The water around him was shockingly cold, like nails digging into his skin. It was so cold, it burned. 

He looked around, and found his best bet was to swim out towards the lifeboats, try to keep his body warm and make it to safety. But it was getting harder to move, both the people dragging him back, and the cold stiffening his muscles. 

He spotted a portion of the deck, bobbing gently in the waves created by the swimming mass. He clambered on top, teeth chattering and lips blue. He rolled to his back, listening to the chaos around him. Screams. That was all the night was filled with. Screams for help, screams for loved ones, people trying to find someone. Screams to no one, just shouted into the night, one long wail of hopelessness and despair. 

Steve had to cover his ears, trying desperately not to believe that any one of those voices could be Bucky, or Sam, Clint, Natasha, or god forbid, Sarah. 

_____

Seven minutes after Titanic sank:

Steve still had his hands clamped over his ears, even though the screams had stopped. It was eerily quiet, the only sound was the low wind and the lapping of waves against bodies. 

He rolled to his back, trying desperately to keep whatever warmth he had left. The stars above him were bright, beautiful. They twinkled in the cloudless sky, like pinpricks in a sheet of black. 

A new sound rose in the silence. It started out quiet, and disembodied. Then a light passed over him. 

“Is-- out--” Steve could barely make out the words. But he forced himself to sit up. Through blurry eyes, he spotted an empty boat paddling around the corpse field. 

“Is anyone-- there?” Through a fuzzy brain, it slowly registered to him that rescue had come. Too late for hundreds, but maybe not for him. 

“Yes!” His voice cracked, the sound not traveling far. 

“Is anyone alive out there?” The boat seemed to call out again, unable to hear him. Steve coughed, clearing his throat.

“Yes!” he tried again, this time throwing his arm up, waving it around. By some stroke of luck, the flashlight passed back over him. With a small, frozen smile, he collapsed back to the decking, too tired to move any further. 

_____

Three hours and 28 minutes after Titanic sank:

The brigade of lifeboats rowed their way to the Carpathia, their savior. She was a smaller version of the Titanic. One smoke stack instead of four, barely a third of the length. 

Steve gazed up from his spot on the bench, swaddled in a blanket. His mind was foggy, and blank. It didn’t register as he was able to make his way up to the deck.

Nothing registered until he saw all the people up there. Crying, pleading, praying. Some with blank expressions, others were angry, or sobbing. 

His heart dropped as a crew member walked up to him. 

“Can I have your name please?” He asked, his entire physique tired. He held a clipboard and a pencil, writing down a list of survivors. 

“Steve Rogers.” The crew member wrote his name down, then turned to leave.

“Wait! Can you look to see if there is a Sarah Russell on your list?” The man scanned down his paper, and shook his head.

“Not that I can see, but we still haven’t gotten everyone yet.” The crew member turned away again, walking to the next group. Steve scanned around the deck, and began walking, conducting his own search. 

As he was looking behind him, he collided with someone. Turning around to apologize, he stopped.

“Sam.” The two men nearly collapsed into each other, shaking with relief. As they broke apart, they gripped each other's shoulders. 

“Do you know where Buck went? Clint? Any of them?” Steve asked, finding himself dreading the answers. Sam shook his head.

“We made it up on deck, but I got separated. I don't know where they went.” Steve didn’t know what to say. He could feel his chest constricting, grief flooding over him. He raked his fingers through his hair, trying to steady the shake in his hands. 

“Steve!” He twisted around to the voice of a man, hoping that it would be one of his missing friends. No, it was Tony Stark. 

The first class man approached the two cautiously, hoping that he would be recognized. He knew that Steve had been high on adrenaline earlier that morning, possibly didn’t fully take in the situation at hand. To his relief, the blond recognized him straight away.

“Tony. Are you OK?” Steve seemed worried, even for someone he met only in passing. He even reached out a hand to give a gentle squeeze to the millionaire’s shoulder. Steve Rogers, ever the mother hen. 

“Shaken, but I’m ok. I came to tell you, I saw her. Sarah.” Tony watched as his entire face lit up, then fell into a state of relief, then finally settled on concern, all in a timespan of .12 seconds. Steve looked to Sam, who nodded for him to go. He then looked to Tony, who pointed towards the bow of the Carpathia.

Steve was off faster than either man could comprehend, racing along the wooden deck with his blanket still draped over his shoulder like a cape. 

_____

Steve nearly vaulted down the staircase, startling a few passerbys. He landed heavily on his feet, then frantically looked around. The ship wasn’t all that big, so it should have been easy to see her, right? Wrong. He had to look for 15 minutes before he found her. 

She was shrouded in her own blanket, huddled into a small ball. She stared down at the floor, eyes red from tears. She was pale, her dark hair plastered to her head from the light spattering of rain that had begun to fall. 

“Sarah.” He sighed with relief, dropping down to one knee in front of her. She looked over, looked his face over once or twice, like she was trying to figure out who this was next to her. Realization hit her like a train, and she gasped, covering her mouth.

She flung her arms around his neck, sobbing into the crook of his shoulder. One hand on her back, the other on the back of her head, they stayed locked in their embrace for a long time. Long enough that the sun had come up. 

“Can I take your names?” 

The couple broke apart, looking up at the tired face of the crew member. A different one than before. He was poised to write their names, looking at them expectantly.

“My name was already taken down.” Steve said, sliding his hand down to interlace his fingers with Sarah. She was quiet for a moment, you could almost see the wheels turning in her head. She looked away, then back up at the crew. 

“Sarah.” She answered. He jotted it down, but slowed to pause with an expectant look to her.

“Do you have a last name, miss?” Sarah looked to Steve for the briefest of moments.

“Rogers.” She spewed out. Steve raised his brow, but otherwise stayed silent. The crew, too tired to question or argue any further, nodded and wrote it down as he walked away. 

“What was that?” he asked, trailing his thumb over her knuckles. 

“Like I said, I don’t want to live my life the same way anymore. I don’t want to be Sarah Russell anymore.” 

“You still want to come with me?” Steve asked, planting a gentle kiss to her nose. She nodded, returning his with one of her own, straight on his lips. 

“Of course.”

_____

The Carpathia docked in New York only a few days later. Only a third of the passengers that had left from Europe barely a week before made it to their final destination. Many drowned, many died of hypothermia. Hundreds of bodies were never returned to their families. 

Wives, husbands, sisters, brothers, sons, daughters, all torn away from their families. Human arrogance was a major factor in the ship even encountering the ice in the first place. Arrogance and pride. 

To this day, the sinking of the Titanic is one of the biggest man-made disasters in history. Over 1500 people lost their lives, 700 more lost, in many cases, everything they owned, and then some. 

Just something to think about.

[solar-born]

munday bandwagon

Knowing your partner well makes writing together a lot easier. Tag this

with the people you enjoy roleplaying with but want to get to know better.

→ tagged by none. (I steal from @sunspawned who is very neat)

→ I tag ALL

( REPOST ; DO NOT REBLOG. )

BASICS. name || Mecha/Sol (my real name is reserved for close friends) age || 21 sexuality || Pan with like a heavy preference for women? zodiac sign || cancer! taken or single || taken! @rezragnarok is my very beautiful girlfriend! She is amazing so look at her things.  three facts || I can sing all the top hits from the last 6-7 years. I use to work at a daycare (the stories i could tellllll). My favorite colors are grays and blues. 

EXPERIENCE. platforms you’ve used || lmaoooo all of them? Or a lot at least. Chatrooms, MMOs, DeviantArt, Discord, etc best experience || RPing with my girlfriend and close friends over discord. I love tumblr rp, but I like...being able to rp canon characters I want without judgement? I just like the calmness of it too. 

MUSE PREFERENCES. female or male || Male. I’m pretty bad with female muses, I just lack inspiration with them.  favourite face || Mmm that 2009 Gladiator Russell Crowe  least favourite face || None. Everyone is beautiful!

WRITING PREFERENCES. fluff, angst or smut || All. I tend write more fluff/smut because I’m good at that? I love angst so much though.  plots or memes || both? Memes are good for moments of a character’s life or as icebreakers. plots are nice and meaty though. long or short replies || Replies aren’t a big thing to me, but i try to keep it around a medium length, sometimes long tho.  best time to write || evening are you like your muse(s) || hahahahaahah //sweats