#some are still there and it's been ~8 months

[chrissieshauntedbones]

I'm glad Tumblr exists so I can scream and cry my emotions out about the Fraser's --- I was NOT OKAY with the way season 7 ended.

By now I am used to the cliff hanger episodes and the "what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck" of Jamie & Claire constantly almost, nearly, dying. That's part of their lives. They are fighting for their love and their lives, I get it.

Because of questions I had since I have only ever closely followed the show, with plans on eventually reading the series (when I am not over run with a never ending TBR---The Outlander series being somewhere in the middle of my TBR) I actually conceded with myself, and purposely, read the "spark notes" (combed several reddit threads) for "Go Tell the Bees that I am Gone" because I needed answers that my anxiety could not have left alone.

*sigh*

I know Starz is ending the show at season 8, and that they are choosing to end the show pacing with "Go Tell the Bees...", with strict direction from DG on how to end it amicably, ultimately I assume it's because DG doesn't believe she will be releasing book 10 for some time, and they need to wrap the show.

I just wish Starz would do a follow up once the final novel is released. Couldn't they pull a Downtown Abby? Couldn't they have done some TV movie or limited release show once the final book came out? (I know it's wishful thinking, don't shame me)

I know once the series is over & there is no more Jamie & Claire to devour visually, I will go to the books, and then once that is read through, I know I'm just going to be "empty" and sad for a while.

I know their love is fictional, and that they, are fictional, but I just love their love so much.

My current TBR is mentally exhausting to me. I know I did this to myself, but:

I am currently forcing myself through SJM's "Crescent City" trilogy (it starts so slowly and I've been struggling for months). Once I finished that, I wanted to move on to her "Throne of Glass" series (8 books). So, we're at 11 books there to finish the Mass verse, unless she releases anything new 🙃

Then I planned to move on to the "Vampire Chronicles" from Anne Rice (13 books).

After that, is the Outlander Series. I placed it in the middle in hopes that book 10 might be released sometime soon, but 🤷🏻‍♀️🙃 Book one of the Outlander series is still 2 dozen books away as of right now.

I get reading burn out FIERCELY due to being a DnD DM for 2 campaigns.

I just 😪😩 ... I wish there was more instant gratification with Outlander because I'm a glutton for it.

Thanks for listening to my self inflicted ted talk.

I’m not as brave as I was before ye ken, not brave enough to live without you anymore.

2.13 | 7.15

[lanf1an]

SEASONS lando norris x fewtrell sister - pt.9

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6 pt.7 pt.8

wordcount: 2926

The sunlight streaming through the blinds was sharp and unforgiving, waking you far earlier than you wanted. You shifted under the covers, the events of the night before flashing through your mind. Your stomach churned—not from the alcohol, but from the weight of what had happened.

You glanced over at Lando, still asleep beside you, his chest rising and falling steadily. He looked peaceful, his hair a mess against the pillow, and for a brief moment, you let yourself feel the warmth of it. But then guilt crept in, tightening around your chest. What the hell had you done? 

Slipping out of bed as quietly as you could, you grabbed some clothes and padded out into the kitchen. Coffee first, then… you’d figure out how to handle this.

“Morning,” Lando’s voice startled you, and you turned to see him leaning against the doorway, hair tousled, wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt. He looked way too good to be feeling even half the hangover you were feeling. 

“Oh, hey,” you said, trying to sound casual. “I was just making coffee. Want some?”

“Sure,” he said, raising his eyebrows, his eyes lingering on you for a beat too long.

The silence stretched as you busied yourself with the coffee machine. He didn’t move closer, didn’t sit down. You knew he was waiting for you to say something.

“Last night…” you began.

“Yeah?” he prompted, quick to reply.

“It was…” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “I’m sorry.”

His brow furrowed slightly. “Sorry?”

“It’s just…” You hesitated, the words tumbling out. “So much alcohol. And the break-up. I wasn’t—I don’t know. I’m just sorry.”

His expression flickered, something guarded settling in his eyes. “Right... Yeah, of course. I’m sorry too”

Before either of you could say more, there was a loud knock on the door.

“Thank God,” you muttered under your breath, heading to open it.

Max stood there, looking like death warmed over, his sunglasses pushed up into his messy hair, more like you were feeling.

“Kill me,” he groaned, brushing past you and collapsing onto the couch.

“Good morning to you too,” Lando said, handing him a bottle of water from the fridge.

“What did we do last night?” Max asked, his voice muffled by the pillow he’d shoved his face into.

Lando smirked. “You challenged a group of strangers to a dance-off. And lost.”

“Tragic,” Max mumbled. He lifted his head slightly, squinting at you both. “Anyway, what are we watching?”

Before you could protest, he was scrolling through the options on your streaming service, settling on an over-the-top action flick.

You exchanged a glance with Lando, who gave you a small, almost imperceptible shrug before sitting down on the couch.

Max patted the cushion beside him. “Come on, both of you. Misery loves company.”

As the movie played, with Max sitting between you and Lando, you occasionally glanced over to Lando, whose eyes were glued to the TV. Max made his usual sarcastic comments, keeping the atmosphere light. On the outside everything looked exactly the same, but even as you laughed along, you couldn’t shake the feeling that things weren’t quite the same.

- The following months were a strange blur—a whirlwind of processing the breakup, diving into work, and navigating race weekends. Of course, you still went to the races. Skipping them would have been unthinkable, far too weird. But it felt different. You had decided to keep some distance from Lando, convinced it was the right thing to do. Maybe for him, maybe for you. You didn’t expect him to do the same. It wasn’t overt enough for anyone else to notice. To the untrained eye, nothing had changed. You were still at every race, still part of the usual group settings. But the small moments—the ones that used to belong to just the two of you—those were gone.

No impromptu meet-ups in random cities. No late-night texts or phone calls that had nothing to do with racing. The unspoken routine you’d fallen into over the years had quietly unraveled, and no one else seemed to notice. Lando was having the season of his life, the world around him growing brighter and louder with every race. Media attention surged, fans swarmed, and with the success came a revolving door of new people. Girls. Even Magui made an appearance again.

It all looked perfectly normal from the outside—like you were just giving him space to focus, like his rising stardom left no room for anything else. But you knew better. You felt the distance that had never been there before, even if no one else could see it.

Max noticed, of course. He was the one person who would. “You and Lando good?” he had asked one evening, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.

You’d brushed it off with a shrug. “Just don’t love this side of F1,” you’d said vaguely, which wasn’t entirely untrue. You didn’t press further, and to your relief, neither did he. He seemed satisfied enough, happy, in fact, to have more of your time to himself.

The awkward radio silence between Lando and you was interrupted by the buzz of your phone. His name flashed on the screen. Surprised you picked up the phone.

“Hey,” 

“Hey…” he replied, his voice a touch uncertain, like he wasn’t quite sure how to start.

There was a pause, and then he dove in. “Listen, I wanted to ask you something. I’m sorry to bother you with this—you can say no—but, um…” He hesitated, and you could almost hear him scratching the back of his neck through the phone.

“You know how I absolutely hated the FIA awards on my own last year?” he continued. “It was boring, long, and just... the worst. Thing is, you’re only allowed to bring a date, and I was wondering if you’d come with me. Reckoned you’d look better in photos than Max.”

A laugh slipped out before you could stop it. “So let me get this straight—this is an invite to a boring, long night that you hated? Wow, what a proposition.”

You heard his laugh on the other end of the line, warm and genuine. “Well, when you say it like that, it sounds terrible. But yeah, basically.”

“You owe me for this.” you agreed.

“Big time,” he said, you could hear his grin through the phone.

— 16 december 2025

The invitation to the FIA awards came with more than just a request for your company. It came with a trip—this year, the gala was being held in Cape Town, South Africa. When Lando explained the logistics over the phone, you weren’t sure what surprised you more: that the event was happening on another continent or that McLaren had arranged for the team’s private jet to take you there.

When you arrived at the airstrip, the sight of the sleek McLaren jet against the orange and purple hues of the evening sky made your chest tighten with nerves.

“Finally,” Lando said, a playful grin spreading across his face as he spotted you. He was already dressed casually, a bag slung over one shoulder. “Thought you were going to ditch me.”

“I considered it,” you said with a smirk, adjusting the strap of your own bag.

Oscar appeared next, giving you a quick nod and a grin. “Looking forward to this?”

“Not particularly,” you admitted.

“Good. Neither am I.”

When you were all settled in the jet, it felt familiar. Traveling together like always, the years of friendship taking over, diminishing the awkward last few months.

“Let’s play?” Oscar asked, shuffling a deck of cards. “Lando taught me that complicated game you guys always play.”

Your eyes lit up at the mention. “Oh, really? That’s nice—let’s do it.”

Oscar grinned. “I like it, but I always lose when I play with Lando.”

“Of course you do,” you said with a laugh. “He probably cheats. He always does.”

“I don’t” Lando protested, though the smirk on his face wasn’t exactly convincing.

Oscar narrowed his eyes, glancing at the cards, coming to the realization. “Yeah, sure. That’s what someone who cheats would say.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Trust me, we don’t even count his wins anymore. It’s just embarrassing at this point.”

“Unbelievable,” Lando muttered, feigning outrage as he dealt the cards.

-

Arriving at the hotel, it was as luxurious as you’d expected, with marble floors and floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of the city. Your rooms were adjacent, even though McLaren probably did the booking, it was a detail that shouldn’t have meant anything but somehow felt significant, having always shared rooms.

“You’ve got to see the view from my room,” Lando said, leaning against your doorframe with a grin.

“Maybe later, I’m sure it’s exactly the same, we gotta get ready” you replied, pretending not to notice the way his gaze lingered on you. 

-

The sound of a knock on your hotel room door pulled you from the mirror where you were applying the finishing touches to your makeup.

“Coming!” you called, carefully stepping into your heels before opening the door. Lando stood on the other side, already in his tuxedo, the bow tie slightly askew in a way that was annoyingly charming.

He opened his mouth to greet you, but the words caught in his throat as his eyes swept over your dress—a sleek black dress with a low back.

“You look… wow,” he finally managed, his voice lower than usual.

You felt your cheeks heat under his gaze. “Thanks. You look great too” He looked every bit the world champion he’d just become—poised, confident, yet still undeniably him.

“Yeah, but no one’s going to be looking at me tonight,” he said, his lips quirking into that familiar teasing smile. 

You rolled your eyes, trying to shake off the warmth. “Let’s go before you make us late.”

-

The ballroom was breathtaking. Chandeliers sparkled overhead, casting golden light onto the polished marble floor. Tables were adorned with elaborate centerpieces, and waiters weaved through the crowd with trays of champagne. It was a scene straight out of a fairytale, and for a moment, you felt like you didn’t belong.

Lando leaned closer as you both descended the grand staircase. “Forgot how glamorous this all is, didn’t you?”

“A little,” you admitted. “It’s easy to forget this is also your life.”

He grinned. “I’d trade this for a karting track any day.”

You both mingled, exchanging pleasantries with familiar faces. Zak Brown greeted you with a wide smile.

“Wow, look at you two,” Zak said, his tone teasing. “A proper power couple. Took you becoming world champion to finally get her as your date, huh?”

Lando’s cheeks turned pink, but he rolled with it. “Guess I had to up my game, huh?”

‘’Wow,” Max Verstappen said as he passed by, giving you an appraising look. “You look... different.”

“Thanks, Max,” you said dryly.

“No, I mean good,” he added quickly, looking mildly embarrassed. “Not like in the paddock, screaming your lungs out for McLaren.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Lando shot back with a grin. “She’ll still be screaming for McLaren tonight.”

-

The formalities of the evening dragged on, speeches blending into one another as awards were handed out. You tried to keep up, but your attention waned as the night wore on.

Lando leaned closer during one particularly dry speech, whispering, “See how I was dying on my own last year?”

You stifled a laugh. “You poor thing.”

“Don’t worry. I have a plan to make this bearable.”

It didn’t take long for you to discover his plan—a subtle drinking game he’d invented. Whenever the FIA would say how amazing the FIA is, you both took a sip of your drinks.

By the time the speeches ended, you were both giddy, the tension from the past few weeks melting into laughter.

-

As the night wore on, the drinking caught up with Lando. You were heading toward the restrooms when he groaned at the sight of the long men’s line, compared to an empty women’s, illustrative of the crowd at the event.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered, glancing at the empty women’s restroom.

“Don’t even think about it,” you warned.

But before you could stop him, he ducked inside.

“So this is what the women’s bathroom is like,” he said, looking around with mock appreciation. “Fancy.”

“It’s not a sightseeing tour,” you said, exasperated. “Hurry up.” 

He darted into a stall, leaving you to shake your head in disbelief. When he emerged moments later, you were washing your hands at the sink.

Lando leaned against the counter, his playful grin softening as he caught your gaze in the mirror. “Hey,” he said, his voice quieter now.

“What?” you asked, not entirely sure where this was going.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his tone sincere. “I mean, with... everything? Dylan. The break up. Us.”

You paused, drying your hands slowly. “Why do you always wait until we’re in a bathroom to have serious conversations?”

“Maybe I like the acoustics,” he said, his grin returning briefly before fading again. “Seriously, though. Are we okay?”

The question hung in the air, the tension between you almost tangible.

“I...” You hesitated, not entirely sure how to answer. “I think so. Are you?”

His gaze lingered on you, something unspoken passing between you before he nodded. “Yeah. I think so.”

It wasn’t a resolution, but it was enough for now.

-

As the night wore on, the drinks kept flowing. You and Lando drifted back toward the crowd, laughing and joking with Max, Oscar, and a few others.

At one point, Christian Horner walked by, offering a polite nod. As he passed, Lando’s hand casually patted your bum.

“Lando?!” you hissed in shock, your voice low but sharp.

“What?” he replied, feigning innocence.

“We’re in public!”

“So? Is that the only reason I’m not allowed to do that?” he teased, his eyes glinting mischievously.

You gave him a look, fighting the urge to smile.

-

The ride back to the hotel was a blur of laughter and lingering glances. The whole night together had forced some flashbacks from the previous night you spent together. Even though your mind had pushed it away, your body betrayed you, longing for the way it had felt—how good it had been.

You hesitated at your door, fumbling with the key card. Lando stood next to you, his hand resting lightly against the wall as he watched you.

“Goodnight,” you said softly, your voice carrying the weight of everything unsaid.

But instead of moving to his door, Lando took a step closer, his voice low. “You’re just going to leave me alone after a night like that?”

You turned to face him, the air between you charged with tension. “We’ve had a lot of champagne, Lando.”

His lips quirked into a small, playful smile. “Exactly. Perfect excuse for bad decisions.”

You tried to suppress a laugh, but his easy confidence had already disarmed you.

“Come on,” he added, his voice dipping lower. “We’re both thinking it.”

Your heart raced as you opened your door, stepping inside without a word. Lando followed, letting the door click shut behind him.

The room felt warmer, the air heavier with anticipation. You kicked off your heels, the plush carpet soft under your feet as you turned to face him.

“Lando...” you began, but your voice faltered as he stepped closer, his gaze locking onto yours.

“Tell me to go, and I will,” he murmured, his hand brushing lightly against your arm.

But you didn’t.

When he kissed you, it wasn’t rushed like last time. It was slow, deliberate, as though he wanted to savor every moment. His hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheekbones as he deepened the kiss. It was a contrast to the wildness of your last encounter—a quiet intensity that felt both overwhelming and grounding.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, the heat of his body seeping into yours. When his lips left yours, trailing down your jaw to your collarbone, your breath hitched, your fingers threading through his hair.

WN: This was a fun chapter to write!! Long one!! needed after the previous short one. My original story line has 10 chapters :((( But i think im going to continue it a bit longer, I love this story much and dont want to start a new story yet because I like this one too much. Excited to see a new interview of Lando, so cute how excited he talks about Quadrant, but am I the only one who questions his fashion choices sometimes?? The blazer quarter zip combo, I’m not sure. I don’t know why I’m so critical i love him and its not bad but idk hahaha.

tl: @ash88-yep @lewishamiltonismybf @harrysdimple05@lex2205 @il0vereadingstuff @martygraciesversion381 @joannaln4 @obxstiles@chaoswithus@motorsportloverf1 @therovanperaastonmartini@acesofspadess @widow-cevans @irisesinthegarden@ncrsbrg @f1fantasys @norrisainz33 @mayax2o07 @ipushhimback @milkysoop @annimausi

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

You’re like the best writer of smut here ☺️☺️☺️

Please I’m begging 90s James (can be any era) taking reader’s virginity? But he didn’t know she’s innocent and she thinks after all the groupies he fucked he’d be disappointed in her? But he’s actually super turned on, cause no one touched her and now he gets to ruin her??? So I guess corruption kink, purity kink, dirty talk, size kink (he’s big, we all know that)???

A/n: I've had this conversation with a friend a few times, my idea is that -going off of the picture of James on the record, we all know the one- he's roughly 5-7 inches (8 being a generous amount) because he's holding himself in his hand and there's still some poking out, plus he looks flaccid SO by my calculations I've come up with said lengths, let me know if you want to hear more of my thoughts on sixty year old mens dicks🫠

Warnings: Smut, size kink, dirty talk, fingering (f receiving), idk about corruption and purity kinks but I tried lol, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

You straddled his lap, arms around his neck with your fingers laced in his hair. James's arms were around you, holding you close while he attacked your lips with your own, his tongue exploring your mouth.

You'd been dating for two months, getting closer to three, and you still hadn't told him he would be your first. You'd gone on a few dates, some highschool romances but those didn't mean anything really.

You were quiet and kept to yourself, you didn't go out, you didn't get dates, how you managed to get him was beyond you but here you were, in his bed, in his lap, in his arms with his hard on pressed firmly against your ass.

Honestly, you didn't think you'd make it this far with him. James was a rocker, the lead singer of a big band, he'd been with so many women it was hard to believe that he went cold turkey just because he met you.

"Sweetheart," he spoke, getting your attention, "what's wrong?" He asked, bringing a hand up to your face and thumbing your cheek in a soothing motion.

"What's wrong..?" You repeated softly, letting him move your face further away so he could look at you. "Nothing's wrong, why?"

"You were thinking about something." He said with a warm smile. "You stopped kissing me."

You gave a small nod, understanding why he was stopping now. "Right, sorry." You leaned closer to kiss him again but you only got a quick peck before he pushed you away again.

"What were you thinking about, sweetheart?" He asked, eyes flicking down to your red lips.

"Nothing." You assured.

James rolled his eyes. "It's not nothing, tell me." He said sternly, looking you in the eye. You chewed your cheek, he knew just what eyes to give to make your knees weak.

"I'm sorry." You finally said. "I know you're used to a lot of women, you're used to groupies, and I'm not them and I don't think it'll be good enough but I want to try, I just literally don't know how..?" You explained.

James blinked at you, expression blank. "Sweetheart, I mean this politely, what the fuck do you mean?" He couldn't hold back a small chuckle. "Are-are you saying you're scared you're not good enough at sex for me?"

Your mouth opened before the words came out. "Well, yeah but that's not exactly what I meant." You mumbled. "I mean... I-I might be lacking in the, um, sex...ual... intimacy? With, you know... others?"

James inhaled deeply, he gave a nod and rested his forehead on your shoulder. "Sweetheart, are you trying -and failing miserably, might I add- that you're a virgin?" You huffed at his comment but you had to nod.

"Yes." You mumbled, fingers curling in his hair to scratch his scalp. He gave a small hum and pulled away from you again, planting a soft kiss on your cheek as he did.

"Right, and I'd be upset because?" You thought for a while but whatever train of thought you were on was cutoff when you felt him twitching against your ass. "Sweetheart, we can take it slow, you just gotta talk to me."

You inhaled deeply, nodding along as he spoke. "Jamie," you started, "I-I want you to take me... my virginity..." Your voice fell to a mumble, embarrassed at actually saying it out loud, so bluntly as well. Straight to his face.

James smiled up at you. "Alright then." He said, hand going to undo your shorts.

Your face flushed as he did so. "What-what are you doing?" You asked, slight panic slipping into your voice.

"Don't worry, I told you we can take it slow." He assured, closing the gap between you for a moment as he helped you out of your shorts. "But that means I have to get you ready for me, sweetheart, it's not gonna be easy fitting me into you if you're not ready." While it made sense you didn't want to think too much about it.

James continued to pepper your face with kisses as he pushed your panties to the side. He ran a finger through your folds, giving a small hum of approval at how wet you were already. He pushed a finger into you, enjoying the soft gasp that left you when he did.

"Tell me, sweetheart, and be honest." He spoke. "You have touched yourself before, haven't you?" He asked, combing his free hand through your hair.

You hesitated before answering, cheeks already dusted a candy red colour. "Um, I-I have toys..." You mumbled, unable to look him in the eyes as you said it.

James's smile widened. "You do, do you?" He asked. "And when you use them, you think of me don't you?" He questioned further, started to pump his finger in and out of you.

Your breaths grew heavy, eyelids fluttering as his finger moved. "I think of you, Jamie." You said, but it wasn't enough, you were already going this far, you had more to get off your chest. "I-I think of you on top of me, I think of the faces you make and I think of what you sound like... I think of you naked, I think of-of what you'd look like with my-my hand around you... your cock... I think about what it-it looks like when you cum." Once you started you couldn't stop, all the filthy things you'd been thinking about coming out like dirty commandments.

James listened in slight shock, he hadn't known you to be so needy. "Filthy slut." He said with a smile, adding a second digit. "Keep talking." He urged. "I want to hear what else you think of when you're getting yourself off."

The addition of another finger made you whine but he slowed down to let you get used to the stretch. You swallowed thickly and nodded, mentally preparing yourself to continue.

You closed your eyes, letting his fingers resume the same motion, in and out, slow and curling to find what made you tick. "I think ah-about riding you, my-my hands on your chest while you tell me wh-ah- what to do, how-how good I'm doing."

"What kind of toys do you have, sweetheart?" He asked, pulling you from your thoughts. You bit your lip, he wasn't even supposed to know you touched yourself, now he was supposed to know what you're using to do it with? "C'mon, I won't judge." He said, kissing the tip of your nose as his fingers curled in you, making your eyes roll and he knew to hit that spot again.

"They-they're vibrators."

"They?" He repeated. "As in multiple?" Your eyes widened as the realization of what you'd admitted to. "Naughty girl." He curled his fingers again, bringing you closer to your already nearing release.

James added another finger, moving his hand faster now as he scissored your hole in an attempt to prep you for his cock. "When you're alone in bed with your toys, that's how you do it, isn't it?" He asked for confirmation.

You gave it willingly, nodding your head as more moans started falling from your lips.

"You're thinking about me." He continued. "What kind of vibrators?" He asked again. "You've never had anything inside you, sweetheart, right? I'll be the first?" You nodded, his fingers making it hard to focus on anything else. He chuckled as he saw how close you were. "That's it, that's my good girl, cum on my fingers."

Your gut tightened before bursting, your eyes rolled back. Your hands resting on his shoulder clutched his shirt in your fists as you came, a string of curses leaving you.

James groaned lowly at the sight, his fingers still moving in you and letting you ride out your high on them.

As you came down from it, though, he let you melt into him, slowly and carefully shifting you to lay on your back on the mattress. Your head fell back onto his pillow, his scent filling your nose, completely taking you over.

James hovered over you a moment, propping himself between your legs and holding himself up with his hands firmly planted on either side of your head. "Is this what you fantasize about, sweetheart?" You could only nod and let him undress you before following shortly after.

"I'll go slow, so just relax." He said, brushing some of your hair out of your face. "And if, for any reason, you want to stop, tell me. I want to know- I need to know if you're uncomfortable with anything for whatever reason, am I understood?" He asked firmly, cupping your cheek in the palm of his hand.

You nodded, staring right back at him as he used his other hand to line himself up with your cunt before pushing in. He did just what he said he would, moving slowly.

He stopped to pepper kisses all over your face and tell you how good you were doing. "That feels good, doesn't it? Feels good when I stretch you out like this." You nodded, arms wrapped around him, hands splayed out on his back.

"You-you're so big." You mumbled, looking down at him in hopes of catching a glimpse of where you both connected. Only, what you saw was a few more inches still needing to be pushed in.

James let out hearty laugh when he saw your eyes widen. "Only halfway, sweetheart, you'll know when I'm balls deep, don't worry."

You slowly relaxed back into the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, mind full. "You're gonna tear me in two." You muttered to no one in particular, James was the only one there to hear and it made him laugh.

"Damn right I am." He agreed. "I'm going to ruin you for anyone else, sweetheart, no ones gonna stretch you out like this, no ones gonna make you theirs." His eyes flickered over your face, taking in your expression of wide eyes and the small pout on your lips. "No one else gets to be your first."

In a quick motion he pushed the rest of himself into you, burying his cock deep in your cunt. Your eyes rolled back, hands clawing at his back and making him groan. He looked down, grin only getting bigger as he saw the bulge he made in your stomach.

"No one else gets to do that." He purred, reaching a hand down to press on your stomach. A whine left you as he did, your legs tried to close but he was in the way. "Not so fast, sweetheart, we haven't even gotten started yet."

[queerdeans]

Happy Birthday, Dean Winchester (A Retrospective Fic)

Castiel pulls something from his coat. Dean expects it to be his angel blade, but it isn’t. It’s… “What, you’re some kinda celestial messenger service now?” he asks, taking the envelope that Castiel hands him. The envelope has his name written on it, and he slides it open with a finger. Inside is a card with a cartoon dog on it and the words, typed in comic sans, ‘Have A Dog Gone Good Birthday.’ Or: a series of birthday drabbles from Dean’s 26th to his 45th birthday

January 24, 2005 26 years old

The day Dean turns 26, he nearly cries in front of a stripper like he’s Holden goddamn Caulfield. He doesn’t — that’s the important thing. But it’s been a long fucking week, he’s strung out on exhaustion and energy drinks, his dad keeps calling him with research and lore questions from three states away, and his own hunt is taking too long. It’s nearly 8pm on his birthday before he even remembers that, oh yeah, shit, that’s today.

Dean’s in Texas waiting for the next full moon so he can gank this werewolf he’s been tracking. He might even be able to relax a bit if it weren’t for the research questions John keeps calling him with, acting like he’s Sammy. He’s been stuck in the library all day reading through old-ass books and trying not to fall asleep.

At 8, he calls it quits and finds his tired way to the strip club. No better way to celebrate, right? Only it’s a Monday and the place is sad. It’s nearly empty, and Dean’s few drinks hardly touch his bad mood.

A beautiful woman dances on the stage in front of him, seeming to enjoy herself regardless of whether he’s paying her any attention — or any money, which he isn’t, because he’s dead broke. He’s slurred his apologies to her several times and she is mostly ignoring him, which he thinks is, yeah, pretty fucking fair.

He pulls out his phone and checks once again for missed calls or messages. He has just one, a text from Bobby: happy bday kid

And this is what pulls the tears to the forefront, where they prick at the back of his eyes.

thx , he sends back.

And then he pulls up the string with Sammy, who’s saved as ‘bitch’ in his phone.

Nothing. Maybe Sam’s run out of texts for the month.

He rubs his eyes with his fists, clears his throat, and pulls the last bill from his pocket. He tosses it onto the stage, drains his glass with a gulp, and stalks out.

January 24, 2006 27 years old

When the clock crosses over from 11:59pm on January 23 to midnight on the 24th, Dean is being thrown through a window by a malevolent spirit. Luckily for him, they’re on the first floor, and even luckier, Sam’s out in the backyard digging up bones, which he unearths just at the right moment, pouring down salt and gasoline as Dean yells, “Hurry up, Sammy!” from the rhododendron bushes in front of the house. The spirit has pulled several knives from the knife block on the kitchen counter and is aiming them at Dean through the window, or what was once a window before Dean’s body took out all the glass. Dean’s thinking he’s not going to live to see 27 when the spirit goes up in flames.

Dean laughs. Improbably, he fucking laughs. And Sam rounds the corner of the house with his matchbox in his hand and a frown on his face. Dean’s covered in twigs and leaves but he’s climbing his way out of the bush, checking that everything is still functioning — ten fingers and ten toes, right where he left them. And it’s his birthday; he’s made it to 27. Pretty amazing for an idiot with about ten death wishes and the world’s most dangerous job.

“Next time, dig a little faster,” he tells his brother with a slap on his shoulder, and heads toward the Impala.

January 24, 2007 28 years old

Sam doesn’t have any visions, and Dean spends the day driving. He counts it as a good way to turn 28, mostly just grateful that his standards are low. Still, every time they stop for gas or a bite to eat, Dean can’t help checking his phone. Waiting on a call that hardly came even when John was alive, and certainly won’t come now that he’s dead. And so it goes; beating against the walls of grief that shroud him.

To his credit, around noon Sam steps into a gas ‘n sip and emerges with a jumbo pack of jerky. “Happy birthday, jerk,” he says, dropping it into Dean’s lap. And Dean smiles.

January 24, 2008 29 years old

As far as last birthdays topside go, this one isn’t too bad. They’ve just wrapped up a thing in Pennsylvania with Bobby, and though Sam wants to head down to Broward, Florida to check out some dumb tourist trap, Dean holds him at bay for another day.

Bobby’s splurged on tickets for a horror fest at one of the theaters in downtown Pittsburgh, and Sam distracts the guy behind the snack stand while Dean grabs several handfuls of brightly colored bags of candy.

They post up in the back row of the theater, the three of them; veterans of a war no one knows about, always have to have their backs to the wall, lest someone (or something) creep up behind them.

Dean kicks his feet up on the back of the seat in front of him and eats himself sick with sour patch kids and twizzlers. “Happy 29,” Bobby says.

“We’ll do this again for 30,” Sam adds, and Dean doesn’t even fight it, not this time. If Sam wants to believe he’ll live to 30, that’s fine. Just a couple more months, and then he’ll be dog chow.

Just a couple more months , he tells himself. Only, it would be nice to make it to 30. Wouldn’t it?

Keep reading on AO3

[sirxlla]

Sorry - Halsey (Batboys)

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

Dick: "and never really understood, the way you laid your eyes on me in ways that no one ever could."

To everyone, Dick was always put together. He was a rock, never broken, never sad or angry, just perfect. It was so far from the truth. He felt lonely, angry, and depressed.

This time of year was so taxing on Dick, he had started having nightmares about his parents and that night of the fall. Usually, this time of year, he breezed through it without so many nightmares, but this year was hell. He saw the fall over and over, and his blame for himself came back with a vengeance.

"No. No! No- No- Nononon! No!" Dick woke up with a start, sweat pooled in every crevice having dampened his shirt and pillow. Of course, he woke you up as well, and you went into comfort mode, rubbing his back.

"Hey...I'm right here if you need anything." You said with a soft whispering tone so as not to spike his heart rate more than it already was.

"What if it's my fault? What if it all is? What if everyone's gonna get hurt because of me?" Dick placed his head on your chest and started sobbing as you rubbed circles onto his back.

"Honey, as long as I've known you, I've known that as long as you draw breath, you'll help as many as you can...You'd give someone the shirt off your back and the shoes you were wearing just because they asked. You're an amazing person, and the world is so much better because you're in it. I don't want you to think any differently about it." You rubbed his back as his tears made the silk of your pajama shirt stick to your chest.

"I'm sorry." He wiped his eyes and sniffled. "I shouldn't be crying, everyone sees me like-"

"Hey, I don't give a shit how everyone sees you, and I would never think less of you 'cause you're brave enough to show me how you're feeling. Okay?" You look into those cerulean eyes shining in the dim light of the room.

"I am so proud of you and no one here would ever be disappointed in you, Honey." You hug him as he nuzzles into your chest and calms down a bit until he falls asleep, you rub his back until you fall asleep with him. His drool is now the only thing dampening your sleep shirt.

Jason: "I've missed your calls for months, it seems, I don't realize how mean I can be."

You had been calling him over and over, and he would read it; you could see he did. He was just ignoring it. He had disappeared into what felt like thin air. Had you done something wrong or was he in one of those moods of his where he thinks he's not good enough for anyone?

He's sitting alone in some hotel room in Central City. Jason left everyone alone; he needed some time to sort himself out. He knew that rule about how you have to love yourself to love anyone else, and right now, he couldn't stand the sight of himself. You didn't deserve his bullshit, you didn't deserve his demons that are drowning him alive.

You have sent his messages daily since he disappeared into the blue.

7:36 A.M. Jan 14th - "Everyone loves you." ~Read by JT❤️‍🔥

3:59 P.M. Jan 16th - "I miss you bunches." ~Read by JT❤️‍🔥

2:12 A.M. Jan 17th - "Just stay safe for me? I'd be in pieces if anything happened to you." ~Read by JT❤️‍🔥

8:36 A.M. Jan 19th - "Sorry forgot to text yesterday, I've been so tired, but I still miss you every moment you aren't here." ~Read by JT❤️‍🔥

5:26 P.M. Jan 20th - "Dinners always ready for whenever you come home. I promise." ~Read by JT❤️‍🔥

1:41 A.M. Jan 22nd - "Tokyo misses you, he meows by the door constantly. Please come home, our family misses you." ~Read by JT❤️‍🔥

10:38 A.M. Jan 23rd - "Jase, please. I can't sleep well without you. I don't know what's going on; please explain." ~Read by JT❤️‍🔥

11:37 P.M. Jan 24th - "Jase, Please come home. I'm sorry for whatever I did." ~Read by JT❤️‍🔥

He read the texts. What you did? You did nothing. He realized how stupid and selfish he was being, such an asshole. His fingers typed before he could fully decide what he wanted to do.

"What did you do? Babygirl, you did nothing wrong. I'm coming home, I'm sorry I've just been so stupid about everything recently. I've been worried I'm not enough but I realize I can spend forever getting closer to my idea of perfect for you until you kick me out or my heart stops beating. I'm sorry and I'll be home soon."

You had cried yourself to sleep that night, and you were so exhausted you hadn't seen the text. Tokyo started meowing, and it woke you; you checked the clock, and it was 3:53. You had only been asleep for a few hours.

"Tokyo, go to bed. He's not here." You cry into your pillow, your face is swollen, and your eyes still red from crying earlier.

"I am, Babygirl. I'm so sorry." Jason saw your face and how sad you were; his heart felt heavy in his chest, and he was angry at himself for hurting you so deeply. You didn't know what to do, so you stared at him as he crawled over to you and hugged you. It had been a hard week without him and him hugging you is what finally broke you. You sobbed into his chest, holding onto him tightly.

"Don't you ever do that again, You Asshole!" You sobbed angrily, hugging him tightly as you breathed in the smell of smoke that lingered on his skin.

"I promise, I never will. God, I'm so sorry. I'll spend forever apologizing for this. I'm so fuckin sorry." Jason heard the sadness in your voice and held you tighter til you both fell asleep.

Bruce: "Sorry I could be so blind, Didn't mean to leave you and all of the things that we had behind."

Being Batman and trying to be a billionaire on top of it just really didn't give him the time to be in a relationship. You knew this, and you tried your hardest to make sure that he never felt bad about it, but it doesn't mean that it didn't feel like shit every single time you wanted to do something with him or you had something planned and he had to change it.

Not only does this include dates and evenings and dinner but it was also sometimes that he was just so exhausted he would fall asleep in the middle of whatever you had planned anyways, it sucks.

You love him so deeply, but he's so busy all the time, and you're trying to give it the benefit of the doubt and just hope that, at some point, you'll come first to a degree. You held out for so long, but after a while, you just couldn't do it; you left.

Alfred noticed the note on the counter; if it had been Bruce, he wouldn't have noticed it for weeks.

"Master Wayne, I believe this is for you." Alfred hands the note to Bruce as Bruce is just about to go back out as Batman.

"Dear Bruce, My Love,

This has to be one of the hardest decisions I've ever made but I know it's the only option that I have where I don't feel guilty for taking up your time."

He started reading and then noticed the marks where tears had damped the paper as he continued to read.

"I would never ask you to put me over the people in Gotham. I know why you do what you do,, but it doesn't make it any less hard when I barely see you, and then when I do, you're covered in bruises, and you can barely get out of bed. I can't do this anymore. I love you, and it pains me so much to do this. I can't live a life where I feel so alone; it feels like I'm dating a ghost. I know that in my heart of hearts, I cannot handle this, and I know a child definitely can't. I'm pregnant and I'd rather do this alone than make you feel guilty for not being there or make myself feel guilty for staying. I love you, and I don't want to try to change you; I know what you do, what you do. I'm sorry, My Love.

Sincerely & Yours Always"

He finished reading the letter, and his heart dropped. You were pregnant? When? When did that happen? He should have known.

"I want you to see about Mr. Fox taking over my role in Wayne Enterprises. I'll still own the company the same, but I'll have more time." He asks Alfred; Bruce knows that this is something he should have done a long time ago. He's been missing you anyway, but now he is about to miss out on you for the rest of his life, and he is about to miss out on his kid.

Not even a few days pass before Bruce finds you, he's drenched in rain in civilian clothes. The rain just enhances the smell of his cologne. He looks even more tired than he usually does. It's clear he hasn't slept.

"I will do anything you ask just please don't leave me." He asks you as you open your door and in his hands held your favorite flowers. Bruce's eyes glanced down at your belly as you pulled him in to get him out of the rain, you were showing. He cursed himself in his mind. How could he even have remotely not noticed, considering how far along you are?

You grabbed towels from your hotel bathroom and began to dry him off.

"I let Lucius take over my job at Wayne Enterprises, so I'll have more time for you,, and I promise I will have more time for you, and I'll have more time for a little one. God, can't believe I didn't notice all the signs were there. How's everything been going?" He asks as his hands hover over your belly, asking for silent permission, which you allow when your hands guide him to your tiny bump.

"It's been okay; sleeping's been a bit rough, this mattress is like concrete, and the morning sickness is a bitch, but overall, I'm okay." You told him as his hands moved themselves under your shirt to feel his hands closer to the growing baby.

"Are you planning on coming home? I- I know we usually sleep during most of the day but I- I really wanna be here through this." You could hear the vulnerability and his voice something that rarely ever slipped to that degree.

"I- Yeah... I really didn't want to do this alone either just left because I didn't want you to feel bad."

"Sweetheart, I will never make you feel like you have to do anything alone again if I can help it." His hands still gently rubbing your belly.

"Well, we're definitely not going to make it home tonight, not in this rain, and I still have the room for the night."

He nodded, and the both of you laid down to watch whatever was on TV; it had been a long time since he had felt anything this domestic or 'normal.' It was so nice and calming, something he now had time for so much more with you.

Tim: "But I still know your birthday and your mother's favorite song."

Breaking up was never something either of you wanted to do, but you wanted to go to school in the U.K. that has always been a dream of yours ever since you were a kid, and Tim would never be the type of person to hold you back from your dreams even if it meant he'd get hurt.

At the start, the two of you texted all the time, and you'd show him things all the time, but slowly, he stopped responding, so you stopped texting. He couldn't bear the thought of not being with you, but he had responsibilities here in Gotham; he couldn't just go.

"Hey, Numb Nuts. I asked you a question." Jason prodded as he finally got Tim's attention after what felt like forever.

"Huh?" Tim was confused; he was so in his head that he didn't even remotely hear what Jason said.

"I said, 'Why are you so doom and gloomy?' You're moping around the place like your puppy died." Jason had noticed how low Tim had been for the last month; he thought it might have to do with you, but you left six months ago.

"You not gettin' any more texts from your girlfriend?" Jason asked a bit cheeky but it was clear that concern laced the tonality of his voice.

"No, I stopped responding. I don't wanna make her feel like she has to respond to me." Tim mumbled.

"I know you're not stupid, so why are you acting like a dumbass?" Jason stated with annoyance in his tone.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're being a dumbass. You know she loves you and you're ignoring her? Why the hell didn't you go with her anyway?"

"I have responsibilities here-"

"No, fuck your responsibilities; there are plenty of people who can take over for whatever you're doing. You get your ass on a flight and go to her before I beat your ass." Jason stated as he grabbed the laptop out of Tim's hands and started booking a flight.

"Go pack, you're leaving in an hour."

"Who's leaving in an hour?" Dick stretched as he walked in.

"Tim is, he's going to see his girlfriend."

"No, I'm not. Guys, I have things to-"

"Yes, you are." Jason and Dick both cut him off. Dick rushed Tim to his room and started helping Tim pack before he could even begin to process what was going on.

Jason texted you, "I have a surprise, go to the airport at 10:30. Don'tt be late."

In your mind you thought 'Aww, Jason's so sweet. My best friend's gonna meet me here.' So you responded.

"Will do. 🫡"

Several hours passed and you arrived at the airport looking around at baggage claim for Jason. He was a bitch bitch, hard to miss. You kept looking around when you spotted Tim and your heart lept in your chest, running over to him and hugging him deeply.

"Oh my god!" You squealed to his suprise. He thought you mightve moved on but hpw you were acting made it clear you hadnt. His arms squeezed you. After the hug you grabbed one of his rolling bags and helped him to your car.

"Oh my god, it took me so long to learn to drive on the other side of the road..." you started rambling and telling him all about your trips and every little detail as you drove him to your flat. His eyes followed every detail on your face, he wasnt even listening just in awe of you. Tim realized just how much he missed you, he broke out of his trance as you lead him inside.

"I bought everybody stuff, I have a box for Jason and Damian and Bruce. I am so exvited for everyone to get their stuff, its gonna be so fun..." Each box had different stuff that interested each of them, you had a box for Tim too. You still remembered everything even though its been six months. His heart swelled at how sweet you are and he just kissed you right there which interrupted your new ramblings. You shoulders fell and your hands found Tim's face as per normal abd the both of you realized home isn't a place, its a person.

Damian: "And so it seems I broke your heart, My ignorance has struck again"

He had another gala to go to for some charity event; besides, this was something his father demanded he do. It wasn't like he had a choice, did he? He's been Wayne Enterprises' new CEO since his father retired; he's been sucked up in events, meetings, and planning.

Although he had a lot on his plate it was no excuse for how distant he was being. Damian knows the date or at least he should. If this relationship is as important to him as it is to you he'll know the date. Your anniversary and this wasn't one of those little petty short ones or some shit. This was five years.

You decorated the apartment, lit candles, wrapped presents, decorated the bed with rose petals, put on music, and even made dinner and his favorite dessert. You were so excited and so proud of yourself, it took you all day while he was at work to do so.

The only reason you weren't at work is that you took it off for this reason. You thought he'd take a day off, too, but it's okay. He didn't cause you had time to surprise him. You paid for everything yourself, you didn't wanna constantly have to borrow money from him, and it was always good to have a rainy day fund.

The front door alarm chirps, letting you know he's home, and your smile grows larger. He remembered! Oh, you were so excited but that excitement faded when he just went to the bedroom? Confusion filled your features. 'What?' You followed him to the room.

Damian was quickly stripping out of his work suit into an expensive one he uses when he has to go to galas.

"Hello?" You asked all dolled up for him.

"Have you seen my blue silk tie anywhere?" He asked, not even remotely noticing the petals or how you looked.

"No, I haven't seen your fuckin tie." Snapping at him but he just rolled his eyes and didn't notice. He quickly got dressed, sprayed himself with cologne, and made his way out the door again.

You felt your heart get crushed in your chest, he might as well have carved it out and stomped all over it. 'He can remember the date for the gala but not our anniversary?' You sat there and sobbed, it's been the same date every year for the last five years. You ate dinner alone, cleaned everything up, blew out the candles, and raked the petals half hazardly into the trash.

A few candles got accidentally left out, having forgotten to drain the bathtub, several petals still lined the floor, and the presents were still left on the table.

You showered yourself and washed off the makeup that felt like it took you hours to get right, the red lipstick staining the washcloth and your lips. You quickly changed and crawled into bed, alone.

Damian showed up at the apartment hours later, he knew you'd be asleep. The galas ran long so why the hell would you need to stay up and wait for him?

He was starving; the galas didn't serve much food. The only thing you could get in abundance at a gala was alcohol, and Damian never wanted to dull his senses like that, so he didn't drink. He went to the fridge, noticing his favorite food; he put some on a plate and heated it in the microwave, making sure to stop it before it beeped so he wouldn't wake you.

He moved over to the dining table that was covered in presents, and as soon as he saw them, his heart fell into his ass. 'The 18th? Shit! I- Fuck. It's our anniversary, God Damn it.' Damian was tempted to run into the room and apologize but what would it do? It would just wake you up and that would be even more rude on top of him being a jackass already.

He ate his food and cleaned up the rest of the apartment. He needed to figure out an apology quickly. 'How could I be so stupid? Wait, that cake in the fridge said 'Marry me?' She- she wants to marry me. God, I feel awful.'

He didn't know what to do to fix this, he could make some sorta big grand gesture, but those always felt like trying to gander sympathy points, and he wasn't gonna do that shit. Damian was gonna be a man and admit how shitty of a person he is. He would just make you breakfast and apologize, take all the blame 'as one should when they're a jackass'

You came out of the room the next day, your hair messy, face puffy, eyes red, lips still stained fromnthe red lipstick, in your robe with your headphones on. You noticed he wasn't beside you and figured he pulled an all-nighter, and you went to wash your face and get coffee.

You pull out the contacts you forgot to take out last night, you rinse your eyes and throw the contacts out, putting your glasses on before going to get coffee.

As soon as your hand reaches for the coffee pot, Damian's hands find your hips.

"Uh uh, you go park yourself right over there. I'm a jackass so I'm doing anything and everything for you today. Okay?"

"Damian, it's just a date on a calendar." You tried to just brush it off.

"It's not just a date on a calendar, it's everything, and I'm so sorry. I'm not going to sit here and make excuses, I forgot because I was so wrapped up in work. I disregarded the only thing that matters in the entire world to me because I got wrapped up in stupid shit that doesn't even remotely matter as much as you do." Gently grabbing your face and looking into your eyes, the redness and puffiness had gone down but lord did his heart skip a beat to see you in those glasses.

"Now, we can't do it over necessarily, but I'm cutting my work hours. They will be designated for five hours, and then the other three or four will be crime-fighting or whatever else I have going on, and the other fourteen will always be yours. Obviously, you'll have more on vacation days or sick days or days; I just don't want to go to work. I promise you my time whenever you need it even if it is during work hours. I would be content with losing everything else but you, okay?" He continued as he kept gazing into your eyes, and you could see the level of anger he had for himself and how sympathetic he was to help you; you could see the pain in his chest that originated from him hurting you.

"Okay." You sniffled and a few tears fell down your face.

"Also, I know it was supposed to be a surprise, but if you want to marry me, I'll do it right now; we can get engaged and plan the most beautiful wedding ever. Whatever you want, it's yours, and if I can't get it, I will find a way." He said as he wiped your tears from your cheeks. You pulled him into a hug and nodded; he wasn't off the hook; hell, you'd let him off the hook before he ever let himself off of it. That was one thing you loved about him when he made a promise; he stuck to it, and there was no one more disappointed in him right now than himself.

Masterlist

[themontess]

Thoughts on Lichdom by Marilys Ingellvar

Bit of a stream of consciousness on behalf of my Rook, prompted by playing through Arrangements a few days ago and wondering what they might actually think. Under the cut for spoilers, cw for death/fear of death, alcohol use and drug use. (Also, tag @redheadsramblings because I was about to post this anyway - might as well tag you in the whole thing rather than just 8 sentences!)

Emmrich wants to become a lich. That was the first revelation on a tour around the Memorial Gardens, which by turns saw them gather flowers and pay their respects to Rupert and Elannora Volkarin - his long-deceased parents - and share their first kiss (and second and third kisses) at the base of some impressive statuary. A single flower, Shrouds Bloom, is still pinned to Rook’s lapel. At the time, they’d said that the proposition was no stranger than anything else their order encountered. That remains true, in aggregate. Specifically - to Rook - the idea is lodged like a bile-stone somewhere in their gut. They don’t head back to the Lighthouse straight away.

Rook needs to buy reagents, a task for which they don’t need company. They reassure Emmrich with a fourth, tender, kiss that the distinction is between need and want. He is wanted. But they need some time alone. They neglect to tell him that their destination is a seedy bar on the wrong side of Nevarra City, a purveyor of illicit and inscrutable substances for merriment and mortal ill. If the professor had ever had cause to visit such an establishment, it would not be proper now. Even Rook raises their hood, their blonde bow braids and bright eyeshadow becoming a little too recognisable. They hand their shopping list to the clerk and sit with a glass of amber spirits and a line of something questionable. They won’t go home until the effects have worn off, and they will bring a gift. Gifts. Waiting out the high will buy them time to think.

Emmrich has a fear of dying. This, Rook knows. They have witnessed it first hand at Weisshaupt, where his increasingly measured and cheery responses to the destruction around them barely masked the simmering panic beneath. It had been hard not to grab him by the shoulders and slap it out of him, not that there had been time for it. Then again, near Lavendel, about to face down the blighted dragon. It was more acute then. The necromancer standing straight, but gripping his staff until his knuckles turned bone white; his voice silent, but his breaths gasping like a man drowned or buried six feet under. He got over it. He always has. But this is a fear which haunts him worse than any malign spirit: not the certainty of death but the uncertainty. When and how it would happen. What might be left behind. Lichdom offers that certainty. Emmrich will die, and then he will remain. Free of that fear. Unless he doesn't. Unless the ritual fails to come to pass. Then he will just… die. And what might be left behind, then? Rook takes a top up of their drink as their first provisions are brought back from storage. It burns on the tongue, like the funeral pyres their culture loathes, but they down it anyway.

What will happen to Marilys once Emmrich is gone? Rook finds it hard not to think of themselves by that name, their given name, in relation to the professor. Not since they let it slip some few weeks before. They have only known one another perhaps a month more than that. Marilys has always had a healthy attitude towards death - or at least as much as one can have, having been found in a crypt as an infant. Death is the boundary which defines life. You live, you love, you cry, you fight. And then you die. Emmrich worries - they know he worries - about the age gap between them. He has remarked that he has grey hairs older than Marilys themselves. What can he offer them? As if he is some invalid at the end of his ninth decade, not a man fit into his fifties. He has his hair, his teeth, his eyesight. No noticeable afflictions of the spine, the joints. He has years left to give, years Marilys would share willingly. Time they would cherish were it to only last a day - which seems like all any of them can ask for at the minute. But if they succeed - if Marilys, Rook, and the Veilguard save Thedas, then all the years he has left will be theirs. Lichdom would rob them of that.

Not the time: they would still have Rook’s lifespan. Not the companionship, nor this frilly, spark-hot passion which oscillates between them like an errant wisp. Emmrich's soul will still be his own. The Lich Lords can't have existed for as long as they have without exploring acts of physical intimacy; they do not cast all partnerships asunder with their flesh. But to Rook, to Marilys… the thought of one day losing Emmrich is part of what makes this new romance all the sweeter. Their time together is an empty vessel into which it can all be poured. He will be loved. He will be mourned. How do you have a legacy if you leave no-one behind? In quiet moments. Emmrich has stated precisely what he craves. Rook saw his eyes light up in the Gardens, when they promised his parents they would never leave him lonely. He expressed concern about what will happen to Manfred, when he one day passes (it is a stupid question, Manfred will be treasured by Rook all the same). But what will happen to Emmrich when everyone else is gone instead? Is witnessing death after death after death of those you care about worth avoiding the finality of your own? It is, Marilys thinks, a perversion - as within the bounds of Mourn Watch normality it might be. They don't have the words to tell him that.

“Here you go, love,” the proprietor says, setting down the last of the supplies. “Running low on the flasks you like, but ask the apothecary down by the wet market. If you don't mind what's been in ‘em, they might have a few to spare. Anything else for the road?”Rook takes another line, and they'll take a long walk. Gathering gifts that say I care for you, please kiss me again, stay with me. Cookies. Good beeswax candles. A small bead to add to the chain that runs from his left wrist to his thumb, a partner to the one they've had installed as a ball capture on a helix piercing. It's selfish, but they hope it works. Hope one day they can find the words to have this discussion for real. Because Emmrich Volkarin may fear death, but Marilys Ingellvar would and will fight gods to convince him to live with them first.

[reggieblackposts]

more roleplays with me and my friends!

50 First Dates Jegulus - regulus as a playboy who meets amnesiac james in a cafe. finds out james can’t make new memories as of a year ago.

Royalty (1200s) Rosekiller + Jegulus - prince evan meets an assassin (barty) who is sent to kill his entire family. they meet and end up falling for each other. barty still kills evan’s parents. two years prior, knight (and duke) james potter runs into prince regulus in the market. regulus has had a crush on james since they first met as little kids (6 and 8 years old). slowburn romance.

Drug Dealer Barty x Regulus who is trying to piss off his family and ruin their reputation. features some cheating, pandalily, and barty’s cactus named prick.

Academic Rival Moonwater - both are selected for a magical creatures internship. remus is sure regulus is only there because of his name. regulus is trying to keep to himself.

Band Rival Sunkiller - barty and james are in rival bands that are on tour around the usa together. barty decides he wants to have fun with james and starts flirting with him because regulus told him not to come to him anymore. james and barty end up in a hate-fuck relationship until james finds out he has a son with his ex-girlfriend from three years ago. barty is there to comfort him, anr that moment changes their relationship forever.

Vampire AU Rosekiller, Jegulus, Wolfstar - evan, regulus, and sirius are vampires. remus is a werewolf and is aware of the vampires in the group. moonwater friendship. rosekiller have been together for six months and evan was just informed that they’re boyfriends. jegulus is blooming after regulus made out with the group (shotgunning smoke). wolfstar kissed and reg stormed off.

[clarisse0o]

The Mayor - Chapter 8

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternate Universe: Mayor and Architect

Words: 1000

Masterlist

———————————————————————

I was now walking down a dark street toward my apartment, thinking about Lucy. For a few moments, the power dynamic between us had shifted. She’d asked me to stay. She  wanted  me to stay, saying I was doing "rather good work" (giving me a compliment must have been like pulling teeth for her), and because she didn’t want to change contractors now that the project was well underway. She’d even apologized, in her own way—this woman of authority, lowering her guard and acknowledging she’d been in the wrong. She’d had a rough day after that disastrous evening and hadn’t been fair to me. Those were her words.

I’d seen the worry in her eyes when she thought I might leave. And I’d stayed. I wanted to see where this would lead. She irritated me, got under my skin, even exasperated me. Yet I was drawn to her, irresistibly. In those moments when our eyes had met, we’d challenged each other. I was going to stay, to test her limits, to finally play the game my way—and, of course, to finish this major project, crucial for our young firm. I’d come close to walking away minutes before, but I’d managed to reach Lucy. I smiled to myself.

---

 Hello, Lucy, 

 Is tonight’s meeting still on? I have three rugs to show you. 

 Best, Ona 

---

A month had passed since the incident. I’d seen Lucy briefly at the project site once or twice a week. She was buried in preparing the annual municipal budget and had a mountain of work. Our meetings had gone smoothly, though she kept a certain professional distance. One change, however: she’d asked me to call her Lucy, no more "Madame Bronze." 

I was in my office working on a new project when Alexia called out from her desk, munching on a cookie.

"It's terrible being pregnant. My new obsession is white chocolate chip cookies! I’ll end up weighing 100 kilos!”

Indeed, approaching her fifth month, she had a noticeable bump.

"And knowing you, it could’ve been worse—like Cuba Libres," I teased.

"Or Mojitos!" We laughed heartily.

Speaking of mojitos—the dragon herself had just emailed me. I refocused on my screen.

---

 Hello, Ona, 

 Yes, tonight’s meeting is still on. The municipal council session is over, so I’ll have more time. See you tonight. 

 Lucy 

---

When I arrived at the site, the workers helped me bring the rugs into the living room. I still favored the gorgeous Persian one. Two months into the project, significant progress had been made. Most of the flooring was installed, including redoing some in the infamous office. The walls were largely finished, and the workers were now focused on the grand Italian-style bathroom. This house truly had charm.

“Hello, Ona!” Lucy’s voice surprised me.

“Hello, Lucy!”

She looked tired, her features drawn. I showed her the three rugs, awaiting her verdict.

“I really like this one,” she said, pointing to the ochre rug.

“This one, no,” she added, indicating the gray one. “As for this last one… I’m not sure what to think. I can’t decide if it’s completely outdated or stunning.”

I smiled. She must like it but found it hard to admit I’d been right.

“You know what I think…”

“Tell me what you think, Ona…” She looked at me with those piercing blue eyes. We were finally reconnecting.

“Well, the Persian contrasts with the room’s tone, which is why, in my humble opinion, it’s stunning.”

“Can I keep them here for a short while? I’m going antique hunting in Brittany next week—maybe I’ll have an epiphany!” she said, smiling.

“Who knows? That works for these two rugs. As for the coffee table, I have some ideas in this booklet…”

She interrupted me.

“Let’s discuss this over a coffee. I owe you a drink for last time!”

Unexpected… and intriguing. We headed to the café from before.

By the time we were on our second drink, after discussing coffee tables, sideboards, and chairs, she sighed.

“All right, let’s stop talking about the project. I finished council meetings at 3 a.m. yesterday—I’m exhausted!”

So that explained the tired look that did nothing to diminish her beauty.

“All right, you’re the boss!” I said with a smile. Then, “So, going to Brittany on holiday?”

“Yes, for a week at my vacation home, to recharge after these intense weeks. I hope you won’t miss me too much,” she teased.

“Or, maybe, the opposite—a week of peace. Relieved?” I teased back, meeting her gaze.

“I’ll let you know next week when I send you daily updates on how much I miss you.” I could see my words had unsettled her. Ona: 1, Lucy: 0. She smiled, slightly flustered, then changed the subject.

“And you, any vacation plans?”

“No, not this year—way too much work,” I said, making a mock disappointed face that amused Lucy.

With the third drink, the usual barriers, her cool demeanor, were slowly crumbling. We laughed, and for the first time since the night of the incident, there was a genuine camaraderie. Her warmth surprised me; she could be witty, even charming. I found out she was quite well-traveled, like me, so we shared stories.

My phone pulled me from our conversation. It was Alessia, waiting impatiently for me, now for almost an hour. I checked the time—10:30 p.m. We’d been at the café for two hours, though it felt like ten minutes. Lucy noticed my distraction.

“Your girlfriend waiting?” she asked.

“Something like that. I lost track of time.”

“Me too…”

Our eyes lingered, brightened by a little too much alcohol. There was a spark between us. Reluctantly, I got up to leave. As I was about to shake her hand, she took it, pulled me closer, and gave me a kiss on each cheek. I felt warmth spread through me; my cheeks flushed.

“Ona, let’s skip the handshakes, all right? And don’t forget those emails next week.”

She winked. Now, it was my turn to be thrown off. Ona 1, Lucy 

[polyamorousmood]

Hey! I’m so sorry if you don’t respond to asks like this but I was wondering if I could get a little advice?

I’ve been with my boyfriend for nearly 8 months now and I went into it making it clear that I was poly and he knew that (hes monogamous) and we’ve been talking about compromises around being a poly relationship. He keeps on sort of swinging between being okay with it and then getting sort of self conscious. The way he sees it is that if he was to date someone outside of me then I’d need to date someone else so it’s fair but if I was to date someone outside of him that we both weren’t dating then he’d be anxious about me leaving him.

I’m not trying to invalidate how he feels because I understand how terrifying something like this can be and I get that a lot of this stems from being cheated on in a previous relationship and that he is quite an anxious/ self conscious person. I just don’t know how to help him see that I love him and even if Ryan Reynolds himself stared dating me I wouldn’t leave him because he feels like my forever partner you know? God this turned into a rant I’m sorry

This is a late response, and I've answered similar questions before, so I recommend checking those out for further reading📚 (especially this one), but there are a few key🔑 points I want to emphasize for you specifically

Start taking time apart now. Regular time ⌚where you are unavailable (and out of the house). This will be common if you get another partner, and it is only one more thing for your boyfriend's brain to go "this is different than usual, they're pulling away, this is a problem, AAAAAAA" if its not normal. Its made much easier if you being unavailable sometimes is normal. Take a cooking class or become a regular at the library or something.

You will never be able to completely assure him you won't leave. This is one of those things that's a bitch to hear, but its true. And would be true even if you were monogamous. Your boyfriend probably needs to do some independent work on that (I really like this worksheet📃✍️, done slowly). That doesn't mean you shouldn't reassure him you're in this for the long haul! That doesn't mean you shouldn't still help! Just that you cannot 100% solve the problem, no matter how committed you are.

Don't let him waffle forever. This is so much easier said than done. And you should allow him some space to sort this out, because it is a lot for most people! But you made this clear from the beginning, and if you wake up one day and suddenly you've been dating him exclusively for 4 years and he's still not sure... something went wrong. Express to him that - while you understand his concerns - it does still hurt to be in limbo, or that he'd doubt your love so much, or whatever else about it is hard for you. Its a tricky balance⚖️ to strike, but you can and should be able to express your feelings while respecting his.

"The way he sees it is that if he was to date someone outside of me then I’d need to date someone else so it’s fair" do you feel this way?? If not, tell him to cut it out with putting extra restrictions on it lol

Best of luck, my friend. 🍀 You can do this!! And so can your boyfriend!

[putting-kinger-in-places]

Can you put him here, over this man?

the rainbow winged man

Spamton Fight, Deltarune

[onlyancunin]

Temptations Part 2: Accolades

[egophiliac]

I have a question about the jp server pickups, since I really want knight Sebek, but I’m trying to save gems for bloom malleus + the 3rd tsum event that’s gonna show up sooner or later. Iirc, after knight Sebek, the next story update’s pickup had all of the previous story cards (ie cerberus Ortho, general Lilia, and knight Sebek). Is this true, and if it is, did it include a token system like the dorm pickups where you can just do 100 pulls and then buy the specific card you want directly? Because if that is how it works, then I can wait until then and be sure I won’t have to go to 200 for him.

we did indeed get a second chance at those three when 7-7 came out! I'm pretty sure there was not a token system -- though admittedly I don't 100% remember, sorry! 🙇 I took a quick search through some past posts/videos from people who tend to include the gacha and news stuff, but I didn't see any mention of it, so I'm inclined to think there really wasn't one. :( they were all separate pickups with their own pull counts rather than a combined one, if that info helps at all.

speaking as a strict f2p who hoards keys/gems like the lovechild of a dragon and a magpie, given the choice between saving for a story card and a birthday card, I'd go for story -- it does require a lot of patience, but there are way more opportunities to get past birthday cards, both from the anniversary events and the rerun pickups! tsums is a bit harder to say anything on because Eng doesn't follow the same event schedule, but it's a longish event and those pickups let you have a free 10-roll, so I think they're also a bit easier to save up for.

(ALSO speaking of free rolls, starting with the fifth round of birthdays -- the kutsurogi my room ones -- the birthday boy/union jacket/bloom cards have had a separate pickup that you can get two free 10-pulls at by doing missions! I got a bloom Jade from it a couple weeks ago. :D meanwhile general Lilia is the only story card I've ever managed to pull, so...I'm probably kinda biased. whoops.)

[ataleofcrowns]

I'm going to unofficially name CH10 the "X Filter". It really seems to be the chapter where a certain percentage of X romancers get filtered out because of That One Scene lmao

[littlespoonevan]

.

[coollyinterferes]

The unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching begins to fill the air. Whoever is coming seems to have brought some company along…

They are getting closer… and closer… and closer…

…and closer…

……until..................

"Goooooood evenin'!!" Comes the loud greeting from a certain blond man. A big smile on his face and all.

"We beg your pardon for our prolonged absence. It was completely beyond our control..." Then adds the gentleman standing by his side, apologizing on behalf of both, offering a genuine smile along with the apology.

"...BUT! We're back!" And hopefully for good this time…

[icewindandboringhorror]

Recent-ish things ~